Junction Rumble within Dee’ja Peak | Plasma Wars [NEO/RNR Junction of Farstine and Nimban]

[Cali Ziiva]

About to be expected, really. All the thuds and bangs and being bounced bottom-to-top within the tube from the explosive shockwaves that shook Naboo. It was really being treated like a toy wrapped in a box shaken by a Zeltron child on Life Day that had begun to exhaust the pink woman confined in the maintenance shaft. As if pushing her pack of goodies through such a confining space wasn't bad enough.

No one liked maintenance tunnels. They were never built for comfort. They were there in the "unlikely" event something went wrong with the buried power conduits or transmission lines for some poor soul to wiggle on down to fix the problem. It was so unlikely some people even thought not to build such things! They'd just dig it up. 'course that took a great deal of time, and you'd have to damage your pretty condo or whatever... so on a rich world like Naboo you could usually get politicians to see sense. A little sense. Like, one or two; not a whole credit, let's not get crazy.

Good thing Cali used to live on Naboo. She knew these tunnels like the back of her hand! Okay, not that well. She'd been in them before, which is how she knew this whole 'thing' was possible. Not enjoyable, mind, just possible.

So why not tell the boys and girls above to have their super soldiers use these to get behind enemy lines? Oh, well, that was simple. See, she was a slim cutey not worried about being ambushed and more concerned with staying alive, and special forces types were usually wearing lots of gear and banging that gear against every surface as they played inch-worm. Stealth was the only thing that kept someone from thinking about popping a maintenance hatch and tossing in a grenade or something. That'd end the whole counter-insurgency thing right quick.

She stifled the desire to sigh loudly at just how much work it took to crawl through the shaft with her toys when an echo of trouble tickled her ear. Cali paused and looked ahead and then off down a junction. That sounded awfully exciting. Now, the strategic thing to do would be to leave whomever to whatever fate. Cali was not a military mastermind, however. It wasn't that it didn't occur to her to keep going without looking, but she was also a Zeltron. People being happy was kind of their 'thing.' And despite what the Sith might say, dead people couldn't be happy people.

Believe her, she'd seen spooky scary things from the Netherworld. They were all green and scary and stuff. Didn't scream 'happy' to her, no matter how much the Witches tried claiming they were just besides their undead selves with glee.

After a few moments, the hidden observer peeked down through a grate at some commandos below that'd taken up a defensive position. Some of the fire from the hostiles sounded... Cali blinked. Sound, that sounded bad. Like... what was that? Mmm, Basilisk? Oh, those Mandos. How'd they get it to fit?! Questions for another time.

Holo vids would have her pop out and open fire with some kind of mega death ray that'd wipe out the baddies and save the good guys. Cali didn't have a mega death ray today though, and she wasn't exactly Chewbacca. Oh! But FN-999 (restored) 's people looked like they were having trouble with the door. Going to be kind of hard to cute it open with a Basilisk down there.

Now that, Cali could handle. Her pink hand dove into the pack and pulled out her tablet. With a panel pushed aside, she jacked in to the control circuitry in the area. Bright eyes watched the screen light up with some security protocols screaming to stay out. The Zeltron silently giggled to herself. Any time someone told her to stay out was basically demanding she let herself in. Everyone that knew her knew that. Not this security system though! They must have upgraded it since the last time she'd been there... the old one would have known to just give up the moment she connected.

If it weren't for the fact people below might all die if she failed, Cali would find this an enjoyable challenge. Well, like the gals and guys downstairs would say: slow is fast, and fast is slow -- you were better at a task if you didn't rush. Good thing for them, however, Cali liked playing chess with astromech droids -- and those little giggles kept you on your toes.

Vreegan Fett | Jas Katis​

 

[Seva Beroya]

GALAAR
DEE'JA PEAK | NABOO
ALLIES: Careena Fett | Vreegan Fett | Kreezan Greel | Makar Clyne | Carduul Akahl | Ukvax the Gilded | NEO
ENEMIES: Niki Priddy | Lysander von Ascania | FN-999 (restored) | Jas Katis | Kellen Mynn | Cerys Dyn | Cali Ziiva | Is'ekapi Rex | RNR
ENGAGING: Kellen Mynn | Jas Katis
GEAR: Everything in bio​

Spoiler: Strill'sevitar Force

• Company of Narglatch-riders
• 3 squadrons of Howler Basilisk riders
• 3 squadrons of riderless Howlers
• Platoon of Clansmen with jetpacks - each geared as Seva without a Narglatch or Basilisk

PNEUMA​

Shabuir.

Seva's energy shield deployed from her vambrace just in time to prevent the bolts from finding exposed points, few as there were. Dark-grey eyes narrowed behind her shield while she clipped the shotgun to her back with the other hand and drew her pistol, all while he spoke about...diplomacy. The Jedi didn't show diplomacy when they cut down Kel Awaud and left the Clan without an Alor.

When Kellen Mynn launched himself into the air, a wicked smile curved Seva's lips behind her helm.
"Dumb move, Jedi." she whispered as she shot forward with her jetpack at wicked speed, the ions of it howling ominously.

The Mirialan didn't bother with shooting. Instead she slammed into the Jedi with high velocity just as he tried to swing his lightsaber mid-air, her armoured elbow coming up in the same movement to connect with his unarmoured head. She let the momentum carry her forward as her jetpack fired again to carry her past.

Reorienting herself, she fired some particle bolts at him for good measure, her shield still deployed on her other vambrace.

"You are jaro to try and attack a Mando'ade with a jetpack in the air, Jetii!" her voice rang from the vocabulator.

Meanwhile, the basilisks had a bit of a harder time as they swerved to avoid some shots from the AA-craft. Some weren't so lucky as they went down, their large bodies spiraling like enormous fireballs towards buildings, other Naboo and Mandalorian forces or toward weapon emplacements.

It didn't take long, however, for the droids and their pilots to reorient themselves and do fly-by's to drop thermal bombs on some of the craft while their particle turrets and lasers kept pinning the foot soldiers. Mandalorians in jetpacks also zipped to and fro, picking off those unlucky enough not to take cover in time. Yet, for every soldier mowed down, a Mando'ade fell as well with well placed shots or a Jedi using the Force against them.

On Jas Katis side, things were growing dangerous for both forces.

The Warpig altogether mowed down a squadron of basilisks with its immense firepower, while Jet Beroya joined up with Buruk with reinforcements, the droids taking out some more artillery craft to even the playing field.

While Jet and some reinforcements tried to figure out how to remove the great tanks from the equation, Buruk kept the pressure on Jas, golden bolts flying back and forth between the two warriors.

Clan Beroya knew this group very well. It didn't matter who they fought for, they were formidable. The continuous clashes between the Hellions and the Mandalorians had caused a mutual feeling of hate.

After tanking a shot with the vambrace shield, Buruk sneered as he quickly reached for a thermal detonator and hurling it at the Pureblood. Instinct, however, told him that the warrior wouldn't be fool enough to stand planted for the thermal to take him out. So he kept zipping around, following up with a few more golden bolts in that direction.

Meanwhile, some Narglatches fell to pistol shots or bayonet strikes. But the predators didn't stop. Trained exceptionally well as war beasts, they worked in tandem with their Mando'ade masters and their basilisks. While they struck high, drawing most of the attention, the predators struck low. Roars, growls and hisses added to the cacophony of cannon shots, explosions and shouting warriors.

Buruk was just about to engage Jas fully again, when another Hellion that had been flanking the Mandalorian fell to the ground dead. Buruk smirked - someone, probably a Fett like Careena Fett , was watching out from on high.

Things were getting more interesting - in favour of the Mandalorians.​

 

[Jas Katis]

NABOO | DEE’JA PEAK
THE CONFEDERACY | HELLION PRIVATE MILITARY GROUP
ALLIES: TF | RNR |
ENEMIES: NEO | Careena Fett | Seva Beroya | Ukvax the Gilded
ENGAGING: Seva Beroya | Careena Fett
GEAR: In bio | unit equipment

CALIFORNIA DREAMIN’​

The dwindling company was outgunned in the condensed streets of the city, limiting their ability to utilize their normally impressive firepower. And the bodies on the ground reflected that reality in the minds of the soldiers fighting off the continuous onslaught.

Jas had his hands full with the Mandalorian commander, who never gave the chance to let the Pureblood breathe in the chaos. What drew Jas to a momentary halt was the sudden drop of a trooper assisting him in the fight. A brief glance at his wound alerted the commander that something was off. The pause was long enough for the Mandalorian to try and capitalize on the Pureblood’s hesitation with a thermal detonator.

Jas’ golden eyes snapped back at the explosive as a hand shot out. The detonator slowed down with the help of the Force until he hurled it back at the rear of the Mandalorian. Their armour could handle an explosive such as that, he knew that much. But their jetpacks were a different story. Finally he dropped his rifle and allowed his lightsaber to snap into his grasp.

With a droning ‘snap-hiss’ the crimson blade erupted and the Pureblood charged forth to deflect blaster bolts back at the Mandalorian harassing him.

”We need backup!” A nearby soldier called out. Jas spared a moment to analyze their situation. The objective was ahead, if quite a distance away. But they would never reach it at this rate. With a snarl he mustered the Force into a powerful blast to hurl his opponent into a nearby building, before charging ahead to cut through a Narglatch pinning a soldier down. They were losing too many troops.

:: All units, get to the tank. Pile up. :: He ordered over the comms, deflecting and avoiding as many bolts as he could. Slowly the two dozen remaining troops that were still alive retreated to the tank, either climbing on or huddling against it inside of its deflector shield.

Confident that his troops were safe, he glanced at the tank. :: Warpig, clear the zone. :: He ordered with a growl.

:: Copy, commander. :: Came the order.

Not even a second later, grenades shot from the tank’s launchers to spew white smoke all across the immediate area. Normally it would simply be used to conceal the tank, but in such close proximity it had an incredibly deadly secondary use. The chemicals clung to any surface as it burned, while the smoke choked anything without a rebreather. Jas was last into the safety of the tank as the deadly smoke grenades littered the area, quickly scraping off a splash of chemicals from his arm before it could chew through the Duraplast.

While smoke covered their position, the top of the turret lit up as its missile pods spewed a stream of deadly ordnance. Its targeting was complete, everything flying overhead in their proximity was marked for impact. In the wake of the momentary “defoliation”, Jas turned to one of his officers.

”Contact base camp, we need reinforcements. And get a firing order on the rest of the street.” He ordered the soldier. Even through his helmet, Jas could see the unease in his comrade’s face. ”Um… sir? Don’t we have orders against that?” He asked him.

”If there’s any civilians still left in this area, they’re either suicidal or working for the enemy.” He remarked. ”I want this strip flattened.”

”He wants to what?” The gunnery officer shouted into his commlink in the midst of another Basilisk strafing run. Their defenses were good, but they were throwing everything they had at the enemy attacks to keep their arsenal safe. Normally the Meteors made sure that something like this never happened, but the surprise appearance of Geonosian fighters kept them busier than they anticipated. Which meant that the artillery battalion had to get creative with their methods to fight off the attacks.

None of which made the gunnery captain's work easier. The Duros glanced at the communications team with a look of visible confusion. Covering his commlink, he leaned closer to the team. ”Don’t we have orders against that?” He muttered. All they could do was shrug their shoulders and shake their heads in the shared confusion. Whether he liked it or not, it was an order and troops were in danger.

:: Copy that, leftenant. Keep your heads down. :: He finally responded and cut the line before turning to face the assembled line of launcher trucks and howitzers. ”Okay, moof milkers! Firing order incoming.” He called out.

The troops looked at their captain with a mixture of relief and gratitude. Finally they could do what they did best.

Crews set their weapons aside and scrambled back to their respective rigs as they prepared to let hell rain down on the city. The captain picked up his commlink and opened a line to the crews as he studied the tactical map. ”Rockets, high explosive. Guns, smoke, airburst. Sector six through seven. Fire for effect!” He called out, taking cover with other units away from the guns.

The base shook as the assembled vehicles let loose with their respective ordnance. Rockets screamed through the air and shells were sent forth with a thunderous crack from the mass driver cannons. In mere moments the strip ahead of Jas’ company lit up with explosions, only to be covered by more deadly smoke in the air above them. All the remaining troops could do was sit tight around the tank and pray that they didn’t get hit in the wake of the devastating barrage.

Buildings collapsed or completely exploded with the impacts. For a few minutes, constant shelling made any approach all but impossible for the Hellions. Warpig even warned the troops before backing up a little bit. Once the ‘all clear’ was given, the troops dismounted and cycled through their vision modes to search through the smoke and debris for any survivors, enemy or friendly.

Jas found himself standing over a wounded Mandalorian trying to grasp for his weapon with an arm no longer there. With no remorse or hesitation, he sunk his blade in between the plates of his armour to end his life. Occasionally a blaster screamed as the troops advanced, carefully moving to clear the now obliterated road.

 

[Ala Quin]

​

"Well, I'll be a wampa's grandma...you do learn something every day," Ala said. Before darting to the left, and ducking away from the whip.

Her boots slid across the ground, and she pushed off into a jump over the next strike of the whip. Her instincts flared to life, the Force pushing her into a supine position to let the next strike pass over her. She scrambled to her feet and pushed towards the him. The whip was annoying, she needed to get in closer.

Or, she could get further away.

"So..."

She jumped backwards, out of the range of the whip, and fell into a crouch.

"It does occur to me that I am now on the side of you that I wished to get to...and I think I am probably faster than you..."

She offered a small wave with a wriggle of her fingers to add to the act.

"And you are not my mission..."

She turned and bounded off around some rocks, heading in a direction that took her and hopefully her foe away from Lorn Reingard .

Tarrak Sharratt​

 

[Kellen Mynn]

OBJECTIVE 1: Backyard Brawl
Location: Dee'ja Peak
Weapons: Lightsaber & Blaster
Outfit: Jedi Armor
Tag: Seva Beroya Lorn Reingard Jas Katis Sibylla Abrantes Cerys Dyn Allyson Locke Lysander von Ascania FN-999 (restored) Carduul Akahl

The hit damn near took the breath from his lungs as the beskar clad warrior struck into him like a rocket. As they both went flying in through the air, Kellen took a armored elbow to the face as he grunted when it connected. He could feel the blood flow from his nose and quickly pushed the pain down and out of thought. There was too much to do and focus on to worry about that for now.

Besides, his mastery of Force Body techniques had seen him through worse before. Hopefully, this young Mando didn't have more tricks up her sleeve but Kellen knew that was hoping for too much. As she shot pass him, the Jedi found himself free falling through the air as he quickly deflected a couple of plasma bolts sent his way as his enemy continued her verbal attacks.

She was right though. Why engage a Mando in the air when he could level the playing field. Kellen found focus through years of experience as he fell, increasing the density of the air to aid his fall to allow him to land without further injury. Beside his bloody know and who knows what else internally. Quickly holstering his saber in favor of his sidearm, Kellen sent some powerful blaster shots of his own at the Mando, hoping to distract her long enough to focus his freehand at her.

Kellen exhaled as he manipulated the air again, this time sapping it entirely from around the Mandalorian and causing her to plummet as he assisted her fall by using her own Force energy against her. Rushing forward with a quick dash, Kellen continued to fire his blaster hoping to ping some shots or at least otherwise keep the Mando suppressed and distracted at he charged forward with his lightsaber. And just as he went to bring the blade down at one of her exposed gaps in her armor-BOOM.

The sound of heavy artillery hitting their targets shook the ground even here, causing Kellen to momentarily turned to see what the hell was happening. Despite the reprieve this was giving his enemy, he was still a Jedi. And lives mattered to him.

"We have artillery firing on the city! I say again, artillery is impacting within the city limits. Who the hell authorized that!?" Kellen shouted into his vambrace on allied comms, frustration and anger getting to him as his forces continued to engage the Mandalorians. Though they were eager to dislodge the enemy forces, strict orders were placed on allied forces. This was still a civilian inhabited area and they didn't know how many of the residents, if any, were able to escape the sudden Crusader attack. Meanwhile, more dropships were braving touching down to let out more waves of men as the Basilisk did their work of keeping them hunkered down and engaging their armored support, even as the AA and tanks took down a number of the war machines.

But the RNR came prepared for these Mandalorians, even on such short notice they did what they could. Waiting for breaks in the buzzing of Basilisk guns, Royal Commandos stood and fired off net guns at every Mandalorian they could target. Hoping to capture some and keep them from utilizing their jetpacks so the ground forces could target them more easily. Following suit, the Jedi Knights with Kellen focused their energy on bringing the Mandos down with the Force, using the weight of their beskar'gam against them. Anything to give them an advantage against these deadly warriors. Or at least keep them distracted on the northern part of the city, for while the Basilisk numbers dwindled, more RNR troopers were putting blaster fire down range.

Soon they would push through.
​

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Brent Warnel
Kellen Mynn | Ala Quin | Tasia Palpatine

​

Lorn barely had time to savor the small victory of knocking the Mandalorian onto his back when the threat of fire erupted in front of him. Brent, quick to react even from his prone position, unleashed a burst from his flamethrower. Flames roared forth hungrily, licking at Lorn's armored robes. The fire was an all-consuming beast, spreading rapidly across the fabric, casting wild shadows and filling the air with acrid smoke.

Instincts honed from endless battles kicked in. Lorn drew on the faint light of the Force that was coming back to him slowly, using it to augment his agility as he rolled to the side, out of the primary path of the blaze. But the fire had found purchase, and soon Lorn was slapping at the flames with urgency, trying to extinguish them before they could claim him entirely. His fingers worked quickly, smothering the heat and smoke until he had finally put it out, the charred remnants of his robes a testament to the close call.

In the interim, Brent had scrambled to his feet, moving with the swift precision expected of a seasoned Mandalorian warrior. Lorn could see the readiness in Brent's posture, the way he poised himself for another round. Respect and recognition flickered briefly in Lorn's mind, acknowledging the formidable foe before him.

Deciding on a different approach, Lorn clipped his golden lightsaber to his belt, allowing the hilt to rest there, a silent promise of the battle still lingering in the air. He raised his hands, assuming a fighting stance that would test his own agility and intuition against the brute strength and technique of the Mandalorian. It was a challenge, both to himself and to the Mandalorian, a test of resolve and martial prowess that transcended the deadly symphony of technology and the Force.

Lorn advanced with caution, yet determination. He feinted to the right, attempting to draw Brent's attention, before pivoting sharply and launching a swift jab aimed at the Mandalorian's midsection. The maneuver was fluid, his muscles moving almost instinctively, driven by a blend of muscle memory and the flickering guidance of the Force.

 

[Vreegan Fett]

FN-999 (restored)

The 18 Storm Commandos lead by FN-999 (restored) , were swiftly approaching the titanium doors that safeguarded the power generators. The noise of the cutting tool slicing through the metal was clearly audible through his helmet, prompting the Field Marshal to spring into action to intercept them.

He signaled with two fingers towards the left flank, prompting one of the Supercommandos to rush ahead to secure the corner, while the remaining members sought to spread out and restrict any enemy movement. "Cover fire!" Vreegan's commanded in a firm tone.

The Mythosaur Supercommandos responded in quick unison, firing controlled bursts of blaster fire from their Mandalorian Heavy Repeater toward the storm commandos.

Their shots were precise, aimed at critical points mainly the the joints of their armor, the places where they could do the most damage. The Basilisk War Droid stood as a formidable barrier of metal, providing both physical protection and fire support against the adversary.

Nevertheless, the Imperials appeared undeterred, redirecting their fire towards the droid's exposed mechanical joints. Designed for battle, the droid was not easily compromised, yet Vreegan realized that action was necessary.

"Advance!" he commanded, having the Mandalorians press their attack in order to bog down the Imperials in a kill zone of their own making.

The team advanced in a synchronized manner, using the Basilisk as their shield while Vreegan kept an eye out for any trickery. Unbeknownst to him, a significant threat loomed overhead in the shape of Hacker Cali Ziiva , as artillery fire from Jas Katis echoed above, causing the structure to tremble.

It seemed that the Royal Naboo were becoming increasingly restless, willing to endanger their own populace, a sense of urgency that the Crusade could exploit to their advantage.

 

[Brent Warnel]

Brent shot to his feet, weapon drawn and pointed at the warrior in front of him, ready to unleash death. But, something stilled his hand, his trigger finger relaxing as he watched the Jedi in front of him size him up before placing his lightsaber onto his belt, readying himself for...hand-to-hand?

Brent holstered his weapons and nodded slowly at the Jedi before him, "Ash'amur pirusti, jetiise."

The thought crossed Brent's mind to unleash his full arsenal on this foe, but his honor would not allow him. Sighing inwardly, honor, honor, honor; it'll be the death of me.

The Jedi, with a killer's grace, stalked forward, watching Brent with the same intensity that Brent watched him. The eyes gave the knowledge of what maneuver would come next. The eyes never lied, and Brent watched the Jedi's eyes with deadly precision as he made his next move.

He moved quickly, feinting and attempting to draw Brent in, but Brent was no amateur, and as the Jedi pivoted and launched a jab at Brent's midsection, he was ready and willing to accept it. The blow landed heavily and quickly, crunching into Brent's midsection with more Force than any human had the right to deliver, pushing the air out of Brent's lungs again and turning his insides to what felt like mush. The Force was flowing back into this Jedi quicker than Brent expected.

As the blow was delivered to Brent's midsection, Brent stepped in close to the Jedi quickly and shooting for the Jedi's forward leg and trying to wrap both arms around the leg at the upper thigh. If he could lock his hands behind the Jedi's leg, he would pull with his arms, using the leg closest to the Jedi as his pivot point and his rear leg to spin and throw the Jedi to the ground to get on top of him to deliver Mandalorian ground and pound.

If this Jedi saw the ploy and slipped away, Brent would try to counter with an uppercut as the Jedi stepped back from the leg grapple.

FOE: Lorn Reingard
NEARBY: Tasia Palpatine | Tarrak Sharratt | Serina Calis

 

[Cerys Dyn]

The stimpack clattered onto the ground before her. Oddly, it was the only sound she could hear. She couldn't hear the rubble from the nearby buildings tumbling to the ground. She couldn't hear her Jedi comrades calling her name for help. She didn't even hear the challenge from the Mandalorian. No. She knew what the stimpack meant.

It was in her hand in a moment, pulled by the Force, and she jammed it into her thigh without hesitation. She was on her feet moments later.

Her hearing slowly returned, and with it a cacophony of sound. She had the discipline to focus on the main matter at hand. Her Jedi partners for this mission would not survive if she did not. She took a step forward, there was pain, but nothing substantial. Whatever it was, she would need to attend to it before the day was out. If she survived.

"You are not welcome here, Mandalorian," she said calmly, eyes scanning the area for advantages she might find.

Hesitantly, she rubbed her thumbs on the on switch for each of her sabers. "The full might of the Republic will soon be upon you. You should consider withdrawing."

Everyone in earshot knew that was never going to happen. Which meant she still had a mission to accomplish. She searched her mind for a path forward, something that could save her remaining squad-mates, accomplish the mission and get rid of the Mandalorians.

"Well. There is only one path forward," Cerys muttered to herself before igniting her blades, "through him."

She stepped forward, slow steps at first. She shook her shoulders to loosen the tension. She muttered a Force related mantra, focusing on the mission ahead.

She broke into a sprint, leaning in towards the Mandalorian. Her mission was ahead of her. Long before she was in striking range of any melee weapon, Cerys jumped once. Just a small jump, but then again, much large and to the left. Her trajectory went away from the Mandalorian, onto a balcony roof, and then another jump to the roof of the two story building.

"You are not my mission!" She called out, before turning towards the capital building off in the distance..

| TAG: Carduul Akahl |

​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

// Objective One //

​

Dee'ja Peak Capitol
Underground Drainage Pipes
Interacting with Lysander von Ascania | Eventually Kreezan Greel
Gear x x x x x x

Sibylla's eyes flickered from Lysander's face to the crimson blade humming in his grip. The color was unmistakable. She wasn't exactly well-versed in the intricacies of the Shiraya Jedi Order or their peculiar traditions, but even she knew that a red saber was… significant.

She caught the look he shot her, subtle yet searching. An unspoken challenge, perhaps. A silent test of how she would react. No, a plea. Sibylla, of course, did what she did best; she filed the observation away, lifted a perfectly poised brow, and then offered him a smirk laced with something far too knowing.

"Oh, I always make good points," she quipped, stepping lightly over a particularly questionable puddle. "And by now, Lysander, you should know-- life around me is never boring."

She turned her attention back to the holomap in her hand, the cool blue glow illuminating the delicate angles of her face. The drainage tunnels stretched out before them, winding and labyrinthine, but she had studied their layout well enough to know where they needed to go. Unfortunately, no amount of preparation could have steeled her against the rancid stench curling through the air like a living thing.

Sibylla's nose wrinkled, and she let out a dignified shudder -- because she was a noble of House Abrantes, and nobles did not retch in public. Not even in the sewers. Especially not in the sewers.

If she lost the contents of her stomach here, Lysander would never let her live it down.

She exhaled through her mouth and pressed forward. "Are you sure you can afford to burn the pair?" she asked, nodding at his boots as she deftly sidestepped another ominously dark puddle. "Or does your Order provide a per diem?"

Ahead, the echoes of rockets and blaster fire still rumbled from the surface, underscoring the severity of the situation. Lysander's complaints about Mandalorians weren't unfounded, though she suspected his grievances were more personal than political.

"Certainly, they've become emboldened… likely due to the transition period we're in." Her voice carried the measured tone of someone accustomed to weighing consequences, seeing not just the battle before them but the war that would follow. Having an influx of systems and worlds join the Royal Republic in the last year had been a hover coaster of different perspectives and ideologies to try and serve the greater goal of a united Republic. The Daughters of the Scar assisted in some levels, advising not only in policy but also in faith for those worlds that requested such assistance. While others, like Enarc, choose a more political discourse with Ambassadors.

Every day, Sibylla was exposed to and learned more.

She turned left, following the sound of rushing water. The capital lay in that direction. The deeper they went, the closer they came to the heart of the city...and to whatever fate awaited them there.

Sibylla didn't slow her pace, but there was a gravity to her next words. "It makes me wonder what the aftereffects of this will be. The Assembly may push for a more aggressive stance against the Mandalorians…" A pause. "And how will that play with the Foundation? With the Confederacy?"

Her gaze flicked to Lysander, sharp and assessing. "I'm not sure if the Royal Republic is ready for that."

It was the truth, and the weight of it settled between them, heavier than the damp air, heavier than the blood-red glow that had briefly illuminated these tunnels. They had both nearly died today. Again. Because of the Mandalorians. Because of whatever greater forces were at play, pulling the strings from the shadows.

War had a way of making choices for people.

Sibylla just wasn't sure yet if she would let it make hers.

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Brent Warnel
Kellen Mynn | Ala Quin | Tasia Palpatine

​

Lorn felt the impact of his jab land solidly against Brent's midsection, but before he could celebrate the small victory, he sensed the Mandalorian's movement. With the precision of a coiled spring, the Mandalorian surged forward, catching Lorn off guard. He swiftly wrapped his arms around Lorn's upper thigh, locking his hands together in a vice-like grip.

In that split second, Lorn's instincts screamed a warning, but it was too late. He leveraged his strength and threw Lorn off balance, sending him crashing to the ground. The world tilted as Lorn landed hard on his back, the wind driven from his lungs. The moment of shock barely passed before he was on him, a flurry of fists raining down with relentless fury.

Lorn instinctively raised his arms to shield his face, feeling the force of each punch vibrate through his bones. He focused on deflecting the strikes, absorbing the blows as best he could, but the Mandalorian's relentless barrage tested the limits of his endurance. Each hit sent jolts of pain through his body, but he steeled himself, refusing to let Brent see him falter.

Through the haze of battle, Lorn caught sight of Alfie. His second-in-command had just dispatched his own opponent and was surveying the chaos. Their eyes met for a fleeting moment, and Alfie gestured toward the Vanguards concealed in the trees, signaling that they had located the entrance to the listening post, locking in an air strike on the mountain side to relieve them of this listening post. Relief washed over Lorn momentarily, but it was cut short as more Mandalorians began to converge on Alfie's position.

With renewed urgency, Lorn turned his attention back to the Mandalorian, who had shifted his weight to land a particularly brutal strike to Lorn's ribs. Gritting his teeth against the pain, Lorn summoned the Force within him, focusing on the connection that was slowly coming back. As another fist descended for another blow, Lorn executed a desperate maneuver.

Lorn rolled his body to the side, attempting to gain leverage beneath the Mandalorian's weight. He planted one foot firmly against Brent's abdomen, using it as a fulcrum to push the armored warrior away while simultaneously drawing on the Force to enhance his strength. If it worked, the Mandalorian would be thrust off him, giving Lorn the opportunity to regain his footing and reclaim the battle. He envisioned the Mandalorian toppling backward, perhaps even stunned long enough for Lorn to scramble upright and re-establish a tactical advantage.

However, if this Crusader anticipated the move and countered, Lorn would be left vulnerable, allowing the Mandalorian to adjust and bring the fight back into a more dominant position.

 

[Is'ekapi Rex]

The feinted blow. Makar's steel rent the air. Switching to a piercing attack. Rex intended to deflect the attack outright with her left hand. The change up slowed his strike. Giving her a new opportunity. Songsteel sung as her knuckles dragged over the metal. Pushing the blade away slightly. Then the smooth gem to the hand guard, folding round onto the gilded grip. Tightening around to strangle the halberd in her vice grip. In all it must have been a second or two. In their entire fight neither had landed a blow. Yet her fist was still loaded. Perhaps it was not needed.

"Ya know. You speak like ya know me. My loyalty ain't to Naboo. I'm not even from here. Just here on business. Which you and your pals ruined. And those Mando's..." Rex stood up tall. Staring down Makar in more than one way. "I don't work for Pirates either. I'll cut you a deal though, Makar. Turncoat on the Mando's. I'll let you live. And when we crush their attack you can loot whatever's left of them. Ships, weapons, Beskar. Worth more than the Naboo Credits in that vault you couldn't spend anyways. A much more profitable venture."

Rex wasn't fond of either Pirates or Mandalorian's. Though for different reasons. She hated the Mando's a lot more. And she'd much rather truly cut loose and be breaking Beskar under her fist than fighting Pirate bank robbers.

Makar Clyne

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Tags: Sibylla Abrantes
Kreezan Greel (eventually)
Gear: The Honorblade | Theed Sharpshooter Rifle | Royal Standard (RS-29) | 2x Thermal detonator | Lightsaber

​

Lysander cast a sideways glance at Sibylla once more; her discomfort was palpable, and he was questing whether she’d even find enough air in her lungs before reaching their destination. Inwardly, he was also questioning why she hadn’t anticipated the unwelcoming odor, for she didn’t seem like the type to make rookie mistakes such as this.

Every few steps he could feel the ground beneath them vibrate, reminders of the chaos unfolding above on Dee’ka Peak. If anything, it did keep him grounded in the reality they were facing, but it still wasn’t enough to suppress the faint smile as he considered her comment.

"Are you suggesting operational constraints, Sib?" he started, the amusement in his tone clear, "If I actually played by those rules, I would never know the luxury of breaking in a new pair of boots every now and then."

A small smirk then played at the corner of the boy’s mouth; the scrutiny behind Sibylla’s question wasn’t lost on him. “But, even if I came from a different family, I still have a knack for getting what I want, exactly when I want it."

As he continued listening to her speak, his mind drifted slightly, back to the time before their current transition period. In truth, the unrest had been sown earlier, long before the current political shift. But Lysander was forced to remind himself, with a very rare pang of self awareness, that he also wasn't’ entirely part of the solution either; this was a path he was only beginning to finally understand better under the tutelage of Master Brandyn.

As Sibylla's gaze turned to him, he met her eyes; yet, rather than feeling anchored, it may have been like looking into the heart of a storm under the green face rap. Rather than be tethered to reason, some of the frustration only became brighter. "It's clear the Republic isn't prepared for this," he stated, the words laced with authority. "Perhaps we should push for a strategic pause, gather intelligence, and then consult with the Foundation and Confederacy before taking action. The Assembly wants results, as do I, but they may not understand the full weight of the risks. Any missteps could weaken the Republic’s position both internally and externally.”

There was a steady hum in the passages that enveloped them, and as they continued traversing the dimly lit drainage tunnels, the acolyte could feel his understanding of the surroundings deepen as well; soon, they would find their way to the maintenance shafts and utility corridors. They were like veins beneath the capitol’s infrastructure. While he was walking beside Sibylla, he was also following her lead, since she was the one with a map in hand.

A sudden shift in air pressure then became unmistakable; a stab of guilt cut through his conscience, for he realized he should have given her his face mask much earlier. Beneath the veil of Force Concealment, his emotions churned with intensity; it threatened to break through the fragile control he already struggled to maintain. When the tunnels finally began to widen and open, he drew in a deep breath to calm his heart.

The following questions left his lips before he even realized it, his curiosity piqued. As he focused his attention on her once more, he now found himself more interested in her own personal perspective, rather than the Assembly’s stance. Despite the current unpleasant aura that seemed to cling to him, Lysander still yearned to ease her burden, rather than add to it. “What's your take on the Assembly's endgame?" he asked in a lighter tone. "Do you believe the Royal Republic stands a chance of remaining intact if tensions continue to rise?"

Averting his gaze, the acolyte now looked ahead. "We should reach the power generators soon."

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

// Objective One //

​

Dee'ja Peak Capitol
Underground refuse tunnels near the generators
Interacting with Lysander von Ascania | Eventually Kreezan Greel and I blame you Jas Katis
Gear x x x x x x

Sibylla exhaled through her mouth because inhaling through her nose was no longer an option if she valued her dignity...and her stomach lining. The stench of the drainage tunnels was a special kind of rancid, the kind that made one question one's life choices. Lysander, of course, seemed entirely unbothered, which was infuriating.

She shot him a withering glance. "Oh, forgive me, I must have left my comprehensive guide to 'Sewer Warfare and You' in my other travel bag. A tragic oversight."

"I'm suggesting a universal truth," she said airily, stepping over yet another ominous puddle. "A good pair of boots is hard to come by."
She let out a mild chuckle at his self-assured remark about always getting exactly what he wanted, then tilted her head with mock curiosity.

The holomap in her hand flickered, guiding them forward. Beneath the Capitol lay the network of power generators that were key to the city's infrastructure... and now key to the Mandalorians' occupation. Without them, Dee'ja Peak would be plunged into darkness. More importantly, it would give the people a chance to fight back.

As Lysander spoke, she listened, her expression doing its best to be schooled into that perfect mask of political neutrality, on that the longer Lysander remained by Sibylla's side, he'd be able to pick up on, as beneath it, her mind worked quickly. His suggestion of a strategic pause made sense, on filmsi. She might have even entertained it, had they the luxury of time. But they didn't.

The Mandalorians were relentless. And while Sibylla had the utmost respect for Naboo's defensive forces, she knew the odds. They weren't in their favor. That was why they were here.

"Pausing may not be an option," she said, voice measured but firm. She turned a corner, the air growing heavier, thick with the scent of damp metal and old power conduits. They were getting close.

"As for the Assembly's endgame…" She hesitated, but only for a fraction of a second. "The Royal Republic is in its infancy with this expansion, Lysander. We hold to tradition, to the ideals of those who came before us, but ideals alone don't win wars. Certainly not when other systems have had their own priorities and ideals before joining the Republic. The Assembly wants to believe diplomacy is still an option. Maybe it is... But not with Mandalorians occupying our cities."

Her grip on the holomap tightened slightly. "If the Republic wants to survive, it has to evolve. And quickly."

Before she could even think to respond, a deep, menacing rumble vibrated through the air -- distant at first, but growing louder by the second. The tunnels beneath them trembled, the very walls threatening to give way. Then, the sound of deafening explosions erupted overhead, followed by the brutal impact of artillery strikes on the buildings and ground above the Capitol.

Sibylla's heart lurched. Her eyes widened in disbelief as dust and debris rained down, the tunnel groaning in protest.

"Run!" she shouted, her voice sharp with urgency as she grabbed Lysander's hand, yanking him forward. They didn't have time to question what was happening. All that mattered now was getting to the heart of the city's infrastructure, to the generators. The fate of the city depended on it.

What in Shiraya's light is going on up there? she thought, her pulse hammering in her chest. The acrid stench of the drainage tunnels filled her senses as the splashing of refuse echoed beneath their feet.

And then -- thump -- a deeper, ominous rumble sounded. Water. One of the city's water cisterns had burst. And it was coming straight for them.

Her mind raced as she tugged Lysander faster, the path ahead narrowing, the rush of water not far behind. They needed to make it to the generators -- now.

 

[Brent Warnel]

Brent's arm connected behind the Jedi's leg, and he pulled, sweeping the Jedi off his feet and getting in a mount on top. Brent wasted no time, raining blow after blow onto the Jedi and intending to finish this fight quickly. For the Jedi, he did what he could from his disadvantageous position, blocking his face and body with his arms and doing his utmost to stem the flow of damage.

Brent alternated, striking the body and face, attempting to get through the Jedi's defenses and deal serious injury to end the fight. After a particularly devastating blow to the Jedi's ribs, he felt the momentum shift, and the Jedi was able to swing his leg under Brent's sternum and push with all of his force embued might.

Brent attempted to shift his weight and let the leg slip past. Still, the Jedi was quick, and he found himself launched backward, landing harshly on his back and turning the tumble into a backward roll before coming back to his feet quickly, using a quick burst from his jetpack to guide him to a standing position.

A voice broke through his comms from the listening post as he righted himself, ready to engage the Golden-Bladed Jedi. "Sir! Incoming comms from the enemy, air strike en route! ETA imminent!"

Brent's arms snapped out, a salvo of whistling birds launched from his left wrist, arcing up and toward the Jedi. From his right wrist, a large net jettisoned, opening up and attempting to enclose the Jedi for an easy kill. The time for play was over; the Jedi had used his momentary distraction of an honorable fight to call in an airstrike to end the combat, and Brent had fallen for the trap. Honor may have just gotten his men killed. As Brent responded with his weapons, he communicated with the listening post, "Do we have AA up? Or reinforcements from the City?"

"Negative on both, sir; we're on our own. This position will be untenable momentarily; I suggest we begin our retreat to the City or die here."

Brent launched backward, blaster coming out to track the Jedi's movements as he responded to the whistling birds and net. "Regroup on Rally Point gra'tua! Move! Move! Move!" Brent yelled as he heard the whine of engines in the distance. His men begin an organized fall back, knowing to stay on the mountain during the air strike was to be annihilated. It was not a hasty withdrawal however, and the enemy still felt the Mandalorian's wrath as they begin to move away from the listening post, putting accurate covering fire onto the enemy as they withdrew. But as the whines of the enemy engines got closer and closer, the Mandalorians picked up their pace, attempting to get out of the target area.

Lorn Reingard

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Tags: Sibylla Abrantes
Kreezan Greel (eventually)
Sith sympathizer: Jas Katis
Gear: The Honorblade | Theed Sharpshooter Rifle | Royal Standard (RS-29) | 2x Thermal detonator | Lightsaber

​

Her words lingered in the air, an exchange of ideals suddenly turning into survival. Lysander’s next breath caught in his throat as the ground beneath him trembled; the explosions above were much more than vibrations; they were disturbances in the very fabric of the Force. Like glass being shattered, it disrupted any balance he sought to maintain. His training as an acolyte had taught him to steady his mind, to perceive the dark currents of the Force without drowning in them; but now, it felt chaotic, like Dee’ja Peak itself were crying out in pain.

Then, Sibylla's grip on his wrist yanked him back to the present.

Not being given the luxury of more dialogue, instead only being able to act, his mind began calculating from heightened perception, scanning ahead at the tunnels more further structure flaws or anything else that could offer them an escape. Slinging the precision rifle back over his shoulder, he found no difficulty in maintaining her pace.

Soon, off to the right, he caught sight of another maintenance corridor, one that would've been easy to overlook amid the concrete that was ever crumbling. It promised to lift them above the waters, even if only momentarily, which would hopefully allow a chance to press onward towards their destination: the power generators.

It was the Jr representative who clasped his wrist earlier, but with a simple twist, their roles instantly changed; now, it was his turn to take hers in a secure grip, hoping to offer both strength and encouragement. The waters behind them were like a predator, ready to swallow them whole. Lysander darted a glance over to her. “Trust me.”

It wasn’t a request; it was a promise.

Tapping into his abilities, he pushed them both into a faster rhythm, a subtle surge that made footsteps quicken. The acolyte knew the increased pace would prove a small challenge for Sibylla; however, he would never allow it to be overwhelming.

“Right!” he shouted, a rarity from his typical demeanor, then tugging her toward the opening. It nearly cost him his balance, but they barely escaped its grasp in time; now, it continued to creep higher with each second that passed, still very much a relentless foe.

The entrance was partially blocked by debris from the earlier explosions. Lysander didn’t hesitate. Extending his other hand, he reached out, focusing to clear the barrier. Shattered pieces of concrete and metal parted, allowing for a small opening.

It wasn’t perfect.. but it was enough.

The maintenance corridor was dark, and narrow. Emergency lights flickered in the distance. The sound of rushing water hadn’t disappeared, but he at least felt better in their current position.

Soon, they could hit the Mandalorians where it hurt; not with weapons, but with something that ignited.. hope? The notion of such was foreign to Lysander, who created a life evolving around discipline that generally allowed him to be in control of situations. Whatever it was, he began feeling its weight in his mind.

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Brent Warnel
Kellen Mynn | Ala Quin | Tasia Palpatine

​

Lorn's heart raced as he barely rolled to the side, adrenaline surging through his veins. The explosive whistling birds whistled ominously overhead, their destructive purpose clear. He could feel the rush of air as they detonated behind him, sending shockwaves that knocked him slightly off balance, his instincts honed from years of combat driving him to stay on his feet.

In that split second, his gaze darted back to the Mandalorian who had just unleashed a brutal barrage of punches. The sight of the armored figure launching a massive net toward him sparked a primal urgency within Lorn, using the force to jump out of its path. He ignited his lightsaber, the familiar hum echoing in his ears as the blade illuminated the darkening woods. The golden light glinted off his bruised skin, a stark contrast to the red welts forming on his ribs from the previous assault.

"Alfie! To the treeline!" Lorn shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos around him. "We need to get as far from this mountain as we can!" His Vanguards had already begun to fall back, but Lorn's command galvanized them, pulling their focus from the fray as the sound of engines roared ominously above.

The airstrike was imminent, the rumble of engines a constant reminder that their time was running out.The ground beneath him trembled, and he felt the dread of impending destruction. The airstrike was coming in hot, and he had to get his team to safety.

As they dashed toward the trees, Lorn could hear the ground shake, the sky erupting with fire as the bombs struck the listening post. Rocks and debris rained down like deadly hail, the sound of destruction echoing in his ears. Lorn could feel the heat radiating from the explosion, singeing the air around him, and he pushed himself harder, urging his men forward, refusing to look back at the chaos they were leaving behind.

His body ached from Brent's assault, but the pain ignited a burning determination within him. He would not forget that armor, the way Brent had fought with ferocity. One day, he would face that Mandalorian again and finish what they started.

As they reached the safety of the trees, Lorn stumbled slightly, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He turned to one of his men, blood trickling from his brow, and asked, "Do you still have the force breaker grenade?" They needed to get that crucial piece of intel back to Theed for analysis, and he was desperate to ensure that they wouldn't lose it amidst the chaos.

His team was battered but alive, and as they regrouped, Lorn knew this was only the beginning. The fight wasn't over, and he would see to it that they would come back stronger.

 

[FN-999 (restored)]

​

Infiltration Team: FN-999 | 18 10 Storm Commandos | All equipped a rifle, 4 ion grenades, and a vibroblade

Allies: Foundation | Cali Ziiva | etc.
Enemies: Mandalorians | Vreegan Fett | etc.

Just as the commandos began to rally against the Basilisk, the Mandalorians themselves arrived.
​

[BACKLINE ON THE MANDOS!] ordered Nines, hoping to at least get a few shots off before the Mandalorians returned fire. However, the Mandalorian soldiers were faster, using the thick hide of the Basilisk to cover their advance while sending a withering barrage of gunfire directly at the commandos. Caught in the open and subjected to the skilled marksmanship of the Mandalorian Supercommandos, the Imperial commandos went down one by one as superheated plasma tore through their joints, with the backline taking the most casualties.

Yet against all odds, the survivors kept up their fight, firing relentlessly into the approaching maw of the Basilisk and the Mandalorians advancing behind. Behind them, the welder continued his slow but steady cutting, nearly halfway through the frame of the door. Still, Nines’ stomach dropped in a familiar feeling of dread. If they were lucky, him and the welder would be the only ones to survive the battle, their lives bought by the sacrifice of their comrades. If luck was not on their side, the Baron expected nothing less than a total massacre. Perhaps that was why the commandos kept fighting with near fanatical determination, understanding that death was both imminent and unavoidable but that there remained a mission at hand.

It was as the old saying goes: a cornered beast is more dangerous than a beast left to roam free.
​

 

[Cali Ziiva]

Way Down We Go... To The Generator Room!
Or Above It Anyway!​

"Huh, they really did a number on this," Cali said to herself, pad in her left hand with a spanner in her right stuck inside the control box. A few taps with her thumb cycled through a few displays as she probed components that were out of sight. Wasn't time to dismantle the entire thing to see the proper side of the control board. And this was after she'd figured out the software. Who could have guessed they'd actually installed a hardware module that validated issued commands? It was almost like someone was trying to protect something.

Oh, yeah, they were.

Bright eyes blinked when the readouts on her pad suddenly changed. "Hey, that's the one!" She'd finally found the right circuit pathway. Now all a cutey had to do was intercept the signal, pass it through a few filters, manipulate the data, record the whole interaction and then play it back with the right timing... Fudge, these people could have made this easier for those poor shooty-types down below.

With a big grin, Cali leaned forward to boop a control with her nose on the pad. It was just faster than awkwardly shifting the pad about in one hand to touch the control. They'd thank her later if the door snapped open so they could find a better defensive vantage point.

The Zeltron blinked afterward. Wait, they weren't going to keep firing their weapons and throwing explosives inside the generator room were they? Now Cali was worried. Those generators weren't cheap. Sure, she could build replacements and make big-party-bucks for her work, but that was beside the point! Think of all the festivities delayed or reduced because of a lack of proper power production!

She wiggled her hand out from the panel and tried tapping into the local channel of the commandos below. "Uh, this is... Cali." Well, she didn't exactly have a rank, but they wouldn't know who she was either-- oh, burnt brownies. "Be advised things in the generator room do not respond well to weapons fire. Scorched Naboo tactics are not advised!" Or... something. It'd been a while since she'd been in a war zone. Not that she had tried to end up in war zones it just kind of happened. Still, how did war people talk again? Usually very seriously and to the point. Often with a lot of swearing, but that just wasn't her style.

FN-999 (restored) | Vreegan Fett​

 

[Makar Clyne]

Is'ekapi Rex

Makar cackled as the offer began to mull in his mind, he could respect the tenacity and intellect of this catfolk. She was actually making a lot of sense, he had no true loyalty to the Mandalorians or their so called "Crusade". Why should he be risking his life to plunder in their name? Besides, there would be much greater glory in defeating the Crusaders than in adding to the pile of Nabooian bodies that already lay on the ground.

In one swift motion he twisted and jerked the halberd's head from Rex's hand, slamming it into the ground next to him, the songsteel reverberating like a tuning fork.

"I do you a disservice Togorian! I thought you were merely a brute looking for a scrap, now I can see there is much more behind those eyes than wild fury," Makar said, before turning to his crew, what was left of them after the fierce battle with the Naboo reinforcements. "Enough of this! We turn our blades on our masters! Take what you can carry in your pockets and be ready for a real fight!"

At Makar's command the remaining pirates seemed to stand there looking at one another. They were unsure if the captain had gone mad, well in truth they probably weren't entirely wrong, but they found it easier to just fall in line. The promise of credits and beskar was quite the allure, one the crew would find hard to pass up.

After lining their pockets with what they could carry, Makar and his pirates walked out of the bank, ready to turn on the Mandos. The captain looked over to Rex with a grin, a glint in his eyes like he'd found treasure in the carnage of the battlefield.

"Would you like to join us in routing these beskar-plated bastards madame? Or have we overstayed our usefulness to you?"