Invasion The Clash of Ideals // NEO invasion of DE owned Ithor and Selnesh

[Van Trask]

INV Sularen's Revenge, Ithor

Van Trasks eyes remained fixed on the TIE/DT, it was the meanest fighter he'd ever seen. This was the reason he signed on with the Empire, to fly ships capable of great and terrible things. Of course this time he wasn't doing the flying, the Destroyer needed a crew of two and this time he was along for the ride.

His attention turned back to Electra who was summarising the briefing. She was at least a foot shorter than Trask and if the rumours were to be believed she was one of those Chiss clones that the bad karma experimented on back in their heyday. If that were true then it meant she'd been in more battles than Trask could fathom.

He stood by the ladder and listened as she laid out his taskings.

"Don't worry blue, I've crewed airspeeder to superfreighters." he said with a wry smile and arrogant tone. "It'll be the smoothest flying you've ever done."

He placed his white helmet on his head and it hissed as the seals shut, his face adorned with scars and pirate tattoos was now hidden from the galaxy. He followed her up the ladder before falling into his seat which sat backwards facing the rear viewport of the fighter. As the engines began to hum Trask busied himself with checking the dozen advance systems he was charged with. As he made a final check on the sensors he replied to Electra.

"Weapons hot, sensors nominal, comms check good. We're green back here blue."

With that Trask extended an arm out to grab onto a handle in anticipation for a launch. He wondered if this thing was as fast as it was in the sims. He grinned under his helmet, with a good pilot it was probably faster.

Allies: Electra-12 Marlon Sularen
Enemies: Nelliel Kryze Vreegan Fett Kalah Redra ​

 

[Onrai]

Objective 1
Tag: Saverok

There to meet the Mandalorians offloaded from their shuttles were the energy-shielded forms of Oppressor-16 Dark Troopers, battle-scarred and still bearing the barest flakes of their Sith-Imperial paint schemes as they opened up on the invaders. Some of the units even appeared to be a mishmash, having been damaged by the Galactic Alliance's attack on the Tython temple so severely that entire limbs, torso sections, or even heads of the droids had been replaced. The Dark Troopers felt no fear as blaster fire from the attackers was harmlessly absorbed and they stood their ground, unloading on the Mandalorians with their rotary blaster cannons.

There in particular to meet the Mandalorian whose gunship had just bombarded a number of anti-air batteries was the shadowed form of a woman, a female-shaped hole in the fabric of reality. She appeared to be unarmed.

"Get back in your craft and go back to where you came. Please. This is the only time I'll make you this offer."

 

[Tarrak]

Marlon Sularen Electra-12 Kalah Redra Nelliel Kryze The Lord of Hunger

Spoiler: Mandalorian Warfleet |

F L A G // : Sworn Vengeance | Shatual Class Heavy Battleship III | 5,000m | BATTLECRUISERS //: Ancestor's Spirit | Shatual Class Heavy Battleship III | 5,000m Wrath of Worlds | Shatual Class Heavy Battleship III | 5,000m DESTROYERS //: Barbarian | Pellaeon IV-class Star Destroyer | 2,000m Saxon | Pellaeon IV-class Star Destroyer | 2,000m Onslaught | Pellaeon IV-class Star Destroyer | 2,000m UNNAMED CRAFT //: Mandalorian Carriers | 10 within Formation | Unknown Meters Bes'drahr-class Heavy Cruiser | 3 within Formation | 860m Kyr'am-class Strike Frigate | 5 within Formation | 355m STARFIGHTERS DEPLOYED //: Imperial Phlac-Arphocc Vulture Droid Starfighter Imperial Phlac-Arphocc Hyena Tactical Bomber Imperial Phlac-Arphocc 23 Model Droid Tri-Fighter Trade Federation TIE/ads Advanced Droid Seeker MNV-52 Beviin-class Space Superiority Starfighter Umbaran Long-Range Attack Starfighter

Fleetmaster Tarak surveyed the Mandalorian Warfleet as it came out of hyperspace with a keen gaze. The Sworn Vengeance | Shatual Class Heavy Battleship III moved with calculated precision, moving away from the Orbital Boundary of the planet Ithor.

As they prepared to engage the Neo-Imperial forces, the lush landscapes of Ithor came into view, a world once celebrated for its vibrant gardens and sprawling flora, now marred and scarred by the relentless advance of the Imperial war machine.

"Fleetmaster, all ships report readiness," came the voice of Lieutenant Kira, one of the more skilled navigators on board. The tactical display came into view showing the Lord Regent's Fleet spearheaded by the INV Sularen's Revenge, with their escort fleet maintaining position, despite being significantly outnumbered by the Mandalorians, who held a ten-to-one advantage and the unexpected arrival of one Kalah Redra .

"All weapon systems are primed and prepared to execute an assault at your command," she added, her tone reflecting the gravity of the situation, as this represented the most substantial Mandalorian Warfleet ever gathered in recent history, surpassing even the capabilities of the Mandalorian Enclave when they waged total war with the Galactic Alliance.

While the Enclave had previously achieved victory in similar conflicts, it was evident that sheer numbers did not guarantee success, for even a complete fool could triumph in warfare without any semblance of strategic thinking.

"Good, Battle Formation Alpha 3 and launch Starfighter Screens" Tarak replied, watching the numbers go up and down on the tactical screen as more and more of the fleet arrived from hyperspace behind him.

"Begin to centrate firepower on the INV Sularen's Revenge, use TXA Starbreaker-class SMD Cannon and HVC-369 "Covenant" Class HV Cannon from our Shatual Class Heavy Battleship III to break the vessel's shielding. We will move into brawling range in just a few clicks." Achieving a decisive victory would necessitate careful strategizing and a willingness to consider various perspectives, although their primary objective was merely to delay long enough for the Mandalorian Crusaders to take control of the biochemical facilities below.

As the crew moved with purpose, Tarak's gaze shifted to the viewscreen near the command chair noting the presence of a smaller fleet under The Lord of Hunger though regarding them as a minor threat for the moment compared to the Imperial's Foremost Commander.

Spoiler: Fleet Movements

The Mandalorian Warfleet arrives over Ithor

Launched a Starfighter Screen around the Fleet to protect against Enemy Squadrons

Concentrating Firepower on INV Sularen's Revenge, use TXA Starbreaker-class Seismic Mass Driver Cannon and HVC-369 "Covenant" Class Hyper Velocity Cannon from the Shatual Class Heavy Battleship III within the Attack Formation.

 

[Tibera Jessen]

Objective II: Prison Break
Location: Imperial Detention Center, Selnesh
Tag: Careena Fett
Ashes to Ashes

A soldier like Tibera wasn't usually sent to the home front of the Empire, she was usually ended up being sent on secret missions deep behind enemy lines. Such was the case with her last contract, the Battle of Tython with the Alliance. It was a complete shock when Sularen had sent her to secure HVTs at the detention center. He had to know something was coming, something big. Her shuttle had only landed half an hour ago when the klaxons began to blare at full blast.

"The Hell?! We got a riot or something?!"

"Corporal Jessen! We need all hands to the maximum security block Mandalorian transports inbound!"

Her wrist-mounted communicator was screaming and screeching with the sounds of overwhelmed troopers. Men shouted for backup, or for support they would never get. There had to be Mandalorians already in the facility, how in blazes did they get past the defenses?! It didn't matter, all that mattered now was survival, and making sure none of those high value prisoners made it out of here. She'd been giving authorization to execute those she couldn't extract, hopefully it didn't come to that.

As Tibera sprinted through the halls of the prison, she was jumped on by a Mandalorian, a tall man in grey-green armor that had ambushed her. She broke his hold before getting struck in the face by a beskar fist. She was rocked by the strike, her helmet taking most of the brunt. A hail of other blows struck her about the face and chest, the kinetic resistance of her armor being put to test now.

After blocking another strike, Tibera grabbed the man's arm and drove him to the floor in an armbar. She then switched the grapple to remove the man's helmet, where she would then rain blows down upon his face, the older twilek tried to protect his face, but did a poor job. A bloody scream filled the air as Tibera beat the Mandalorian down, eventually she stood over him, blood dripping from her knuckles.

"Better luck next life Killer," The hulking woman said before putting a Verpine shatter round through the red skinned alien's forehead. She wasn't going to take any chances with enemies this tough. "And don't worry about getting lonely, your kin will be following on your heels."

 

[Crane Baxa]

Equipment: Lightsabers of Greed
Tags: Darth Veyriss Ninurta Slaabur'r​

"Thank you for the workout."

All that could be said as the Chadra-Fan had just made his way into the armory section, pulling on his old jacket. Sometimes, he needed some practice breaking out of prison...or exploiting the worst flaws imaginable. He was very good at what he did, stealing but he did at times always wound up in a prison somewhere. This time around, he may or may not have annoyed someone bad enough to be thrown into a prison. The worst part? The Rodent was not even supposed to be here today, it was all just fate that ended up thrown in here, burned a few times quite literally and now having gathered the gear and his precious, he had to start moving to leave.

That was until fate itself, made another left turn. The blaring alarm of a riot ringed in the Chadra-Fans ear. It blared a few times as blaster sounds echoed throughout the entire facility, causing the small rodent to hit a button to open the armory doors, something he never did without consideration but curiosity got to the small creature. Opening up, he would notice the place going into full pandemonium, entire firefights were erupting around the facility and when one, he deduced hopefully to NOT be a Mandalorian turned to fire upon the Chadra-Fan, all he could do was screech and strike the controls with his lightsabers, breaking them. The door would slam downward, causing the rodent to back up and glance around before taking a few steps back and leaping upwards into a vent he had gone through earlier.

As the sounds of his footsteps and crawling through tight spaces be heard, blaster fire would erupt into the vents. Scrambling, the greedy rodent would squirm in a frantic pace to get through the ventilation area before popping out on the other side, going into a large maintenance area as the blaster fire ceased, breaking completely through as he tumbled onto the ground. With a loud groan, the Chadra-Fan would slowly raise up, trying to get up from the ground as he knew it was time to leave...but why was the Mandalorians attacking?

 

[Ninurta Slaabur'r]

Darth Veyriss Crane Baxa
​

The corridors of the Imperial detention center echoed with the shrill wail of alarms, red warning lights strobing along durasteel walls, casting fleeting shadows across the bodies of fallen stormtroopers. The air was thick with the acrid scent of scorched armor and blaster residue, the chaos of battle now an unrestrained symphony that sang through the halls.

Ninurta moved with a fluid, almost effortless grace, weaving between foes as though he were conducting an intricate dance. In one hand, his Kashyyykian Stalker pistol barked with suppressed fury, each shot striking with deadly precision, sending Imperials collapsing mid-turn. In the other, his amphistaff coiled and lashed with serpentine lethality, the living weapon slithering through the air before snapping tight around a trooper's neck, yanking him off his feet and sending him crashing into the cold, unyielding floor.

The beastmaster moved like a razorcat in its element—his Falleen biology lending him a poise few could match, his Mandalorian training refining every motion into lethal efficiency. He did not charge through the halls with reckless abandon, nor did he pause needlessly. Instead, he flowed—each step deliberate, each movement measured, as if he were an artist painting death upon a canvas of war. Around him, his vode executed their roles with disciplined precision. He directed them with sharp gestures and brief, clipped commands. "Pry the control logs from that terminal. Find out where they're keeping priority prisoners. You—flank west and cut off reinforcements before they bottleneck us. The rest—hold this position. We press forward once the eastern block is clear." His awareness stretched to just adjacent of him and briefly motioned a pat but it seemed as if it only touch a shadowed silhouette near him.

 

[Mother Askani]

ITHOR | OBJ 1. JUNGLE FEVER | FOUNDATION
Set to engage: Darth Moskvin
Equipment: Psimitar | Bryar Pistol | Kimoyo Beads | Guardian Mantle | Lightsaber
(These are listed in the bio but wanted to list them here)

She gave a slow nod, her hooded form barely moving as she absorbed Admiral Kalah's words. Ithor was a world of peace--a world of harmony that should never have to see war. And yet, the drums of conquest beat on its doorstep. The Foundation had one chance to intervene before everything was lost.

"I will see to the civilians," she said, her voice calm despite the chaos ahead. "Keep me in the know."

Askani spun on her heel and moved toward the lift, her dark earthly toned robes trailing behind her as she descended toward the hangar bay.

The moment the doors slid open, the hangar was alive with movement. Pilots hurried into their cockpits, engineers made last-minute checks, and Foundation soldiers gathered in formations, their armor lacking the rigid uniformity of the Galactic Alliance or the Empire. These were warriors bound not by orders, but by conviction. They were fighters who believed in something greater than conquest.

A young officer--approached Askani, helmet tucked under her arm. "Mother Askani, the shuttles are prepped. We have five full transports ready to move with medical supplies and personnel. The Ithorian herd-ships are still in orbit, but we need to get to the surface before they decide to flee. The Council of Herds is reluctant to abandon their people."

Askani nodded, her expression warm but firm. "Then let's move."

With that, she strode toward the nearest transport, climbing aboard as the other Foundation operatives followed suit. The shuttle's doors sealed with a hiss, and within moments, the ship lurched as it lifted from the hangar floor, joining the formation of humanitarian vessels descending upon the green, mist-laden world of Ithor. She had suggested these transports have their logo painted on them.

The descent was turbulent. Even through the reinforced hull of the shuttle, Askani could feel the distant tremors of battle. The Mandalorian fleet was emerging from hyperspace--soon, the skies of Ithor would be thick with warships and fire. But for now, the Foundation had a window. A chance. Albeit very very brief.

The comms crackled to life as the pilot's voice cut through the static. "We've got Imperial patrol ships in the sector, but they're not engaging just yet. They're holding position. Either they're waiting for reinforcements or they don't want to get caught between us and the Mandos."

"Stay on course," Askani instructed. "The longer they hesitate, the more work we can do before the fighting gets heavier."

The viewport revealed Ithor's breathtaking surface. Towering jungle canopies, vast winding rivers, and the floating herd-cities drifting lazily above it all. But fear gripped the planet. On the horizon, massive clouds of smoke signaled the first strikes—fires set by Mandalorian shock troops hitting planetary defenses. The invasion had begun.

The shuttle rocked as they entered the atmosphere, piercing through thick clouds before leveling out over one of the larger herd-cities. Below, Ithorians rushed through the streets, some desperately boarding small transports, others attempting to gather what little they could carry. The panic was spreading.

"Brace for landing!" the pilot called out.

The shuttle's repulsors kicked in, slowing its descent as it settled onto the platform of the city's central plaza. Before the ramp had fully extended, Askani was already moving, stepping onto the ground with a sense of purpose. Foundation operatives spilled out behind her, immediately directing civilians toward the safety of their transports.

An Ithorian elder approached, his eyes filled with worry but also recognition. He had noticed the Foundation insignia "The Foundation… you came."

She took his hands in hers, squeezing gently. "We abandon no one." She nodded, but it was a silent motion for him to get onboard.

Explosions thundered in the distance. The sky above them darkened as Mandalorian drop-pods streaked through the clouds. The mobilization of imperials couldn't felt through the ripples in the ground, their fighters screeching through the air. The storm was coming.

But the Foundation was here.

And they would hold the line.

-----

"What have I sacrificed? Everything..."
​

 

[Saverok]

His helmet's visor flickered as it scanned the battlefield—Oppressor-16 Dark Troopers, their armored forms unyieldingly clean to the polish, opened fire with rotary cannons, sending red-hot blaster bolts screaming toward the Neo-Crusade warriors. The shields on the hulking warriors shimmered, swallowing incoming blaster fire like a void. The Neo-Crusaders weren't unprepared, but they were met with sheer brutality the moment they landed.

Figures.

Then there was her ( Onrai ). A void in the Force. A silhouette of nothing. The woman stood calm, unarmed, her presence an unsettling black hole in reality itself.

"Get back in your craft and go back to where you came. Please. This is the only time I'll make you this offer."

Saverok chuckled, a low, distorted gravel in his throat. His armor, already charred from war, reflected the ambient light of the blaster fire around him as he took a step forward.

"You sound like someone who thinks they have a choice. Whatever you are..." Then, the chaos ensued. The Neo-Crusaders reacted with precision. Squads split apart, some activating their jetpacks and launching into the air, taking to the high ground to rain fire from above. Others dug in, securing firing lines and setting up overlapping suppression zones to keep the Dark Troopers engaged. But it wasn't enough—their shields absorbed the damage, the Mandalorian blaster fire fizzling on contact. Saverok's senses flared, every part of his Gen'dai biology alive with raw sensory input. He could feel the vibrations in the air, the hum of the Dark Troopers' shields, the rhythmic thumping of their heavy mechanical footfalls. His mind calculated the timing of their firing patterns, the shifts in their formation, the way the enemy moved.

They weren't invincible.
<<"RIPPERS! Use your karking rippers!">>

The single command barked through his comms, and like a switch flipped, the Neo-Crusaders adapted. Blaster rifles were holstered in an instant, replaced by Mandalorian Rippers—slugthrowers designed to tear through energy shielding with brute kinetic force. The effect was immediate. The first Dark Trooper staggered, its shield crackling as a hail of slugs punched through. Another took a burst to the torso, its plating denting inward as its shield collapsed under the sheer impact force. The rest of the Darktroopers elluded the barrage by taking cover. But just for safe measure....

Saverok turned back to his M22-T Krayt gunship, his vambrace controls flashing as he punched in a code sequence. The ship's engines roared to life, repulsors whining as it pivoted into position. The twin laser cannons swiveled, locking onto incoming enemy reinforcements, while the ion cannons adjusted to neutralize shielded threats. A storm of firepower erupted from the Krayt, its laser and ion cannons threatening to tear through enemy combatants and even the mysterious shadowy woman as well. <<"DANGER CLOSE!">>

 

[Kei Amadis]

Goal: END THEM ALL.
Location: Entering the Facility.
NPCs (Background Only) Dark Jedi Strike Team: Dral'Haran, vengeance that burns like fire | Various Bloodclaw Wookiees.
Enemies: Ninurta Slaabur'r | Carduul Akahl | Careena Fett | Ryorgak Saor'daw
Allies: Antipater | Saltare Dothon | Sid Berik | Tibera Jessen | Crane Baxa
Direct opponent: Open

Screaming toward the earth in drop ships, they were death incarnate for every Mandalorian in their path. Sons, daughters, fathers, mothers—friends of the civilians and non-combatants butchered at Kashyyyk—came to exact bloody vengeance on every Dar'manda husk that walked this world.

The dropships landed with crushing force, slamming down on Mandalorians entering the facility, metal fists pounding bodies into the ground to a paste. From the shadows, Jedi sabers flashed to life. They struck with neither restraint or mercy, cutting down the stunned Dar'manda from behind. Not a single Imperial was touched; some were even rescued, but behind his dark blue armor Kei strode forward like a man possessed.

"Will you face me now?! OR DO YOU NEED YOUR SHIPS!?"

Beside the Dark Jedi strike team, Wookiee Bloodclaws roared in challenge, their bodies and armor painted blood red in remembrance of their slaughtered kin. Haran had come for the Mandalorians. A widowed husband's right. A father's wrath. With weapons of war both new and old.

Kei seized one Mandalorian in a force chokehold and slammed his head against the entrance way, again and again, until his neck snapped. He cast the corpse aside and marched into the facility, set on killing every last Mandalorian coward from here to Mandalore. It would be abundantly clear whose side they were fighting on in seconds.

His HUD flickered to life tracking his prey, he didn't need it, he could feel his vengeance, their lifesigns within his blood and bones. Bracing his bolter into his shoulder, a weapon of past wars, fitting for a man who lived in the past. The Mandalorians had killed the father, the protector, the man. Now they faced only fury, blood and fire in the present.

The halls echoed with the sounds of bolter fire, charred flesh, roars, and screams. The bolter's call of vengeance had returned to the galaxy, and the facility shuddered, naming the Mandalorian dead in its wake.

Gear/OOC:

Spoiler

OOC: All the love OOC, he's deep in his revenge arc IC, Tag him if you want a brutal fight.

Armor:

Triple Warden AFU
Bossy-Rbos1 Rebreather
Beskar Gauntlets and Wristblades: Haran's Grasp | Poison Charon Venom

Gear:

Hands: MK6 Prototype Regular Sized Bolter: Elara's Fire.
Back: Jet Black Beskar Two-handed Doubleaxe: Haran's Executioner
Hips: MK2-Jackknife x1 | Revolving Door Magnum x1 | Saber
Belt: Coated Incendiary Gel tipped Daggers x 4/4 Widow's Fangs | Harris Grace Personal Medkit | 7/7 Grenades Mixed

 

[Althenea | Atticus]

Objective Three
Location: In the Jungles (Near you hero!)
Goals: Sacrifices to the Maw. Darkside Rituals.
Open: To one or more heroes or ritualists.

Two Kethenites, bound by a blood oath to the Maw, stood as Keth's offerings to the Dark Empire. Their faces bore his mark, their helmets set aside, exposing the ritualists deep in ceremony.

Althenea chanted around a pyre, flames consuming a slain Mandalorian. A few helmets on spikes decorated the clearing, totems of their dark devotion. Beside a grisly alter, Atticus remained silent, sharpening his alchemized red axe, letting the blood of his enemy sear into the blade. Althenea did the same with her earned black alchemized weapon. This was no hunt for sport, it was tribute. A sacrifice to Keth and the Maw, gods in their eyes, their oaths across their shields absolute.

Dark armor clung to them, painted in runic markings and ritual symbols of the Maw, shields strapped to their backs, dug in like unshakable reminders. Glade 's daughter and Siobhan Kerrigan 's granddaughter faced a different fate than the noble, caring guiding hand her siblings had received.

"Mes doz'van kraujas kia tave Maw, Keth's aukotis kia appease tave qy's alkis."
(We offer blood to Maw, Keth's sacrifice to appease Force's hunger.)

Althenea raised her hands, voice rising in High ur-Kittât, the Sith tongue, accenting every word of blood and sacrifice with reverence; her dialect was broken, the words tribal in nature but she spoke with such emotion the atmosphere stirred. A novice yet but one day.... Atticus remained silent as the graves they would lay, his focus absolute as the weapon drank deep, the burning blood merging into the metal's alchemized core.

Two Mandalorian prisoners, one male, one female, knelt in chains, stripped of their armor. More would come. The Gravekeepers would carve a new tomb here, for all who defied their master's will or tred upon his grand designs.

Gear:

Spoiler

Althenea:
Dark Red Durastreet Armor
Runic Oath Shield | Valarith Coins
A black alchemized blade made by Darth Reficite.
SCJ-Deadline-B 3/3

Atticus:
KCA-AI Kethenite Codex Armor
Runic Oath Shield | Valarith Coins
A glowing red axe of embers made by Darth Reficite.
SCJ-Deadline-B 3/3

 

[Detritus Ren]

Location: Ithor, Imperial Compound
Enemies: Neo-Crusaders, Brent Warnel
Allies: Dark Imperials
Equipment: The Ren Lightsaber, Detritus Orbalisk Armor


Detritus had stood within the secret confines of the facility built deep within the Jungle. He had been given a special request to oversee the work of both Ithorian and Imperial scientists. All of the work had been carried out under the mysterious orders of experimental weapons Director Valek Zuraxin, whom had helped established a network of compounds and facilities to study the effects of Bio-Weapons. Much of Ithor plant life was suitable to be turned into nightmarish creations by the work of the Imperial Science Division. For months the scientists have worked day and night, experimenting with the different flora in hopes of creating terrifying works that would fuel the war machine.

The ruling council member found himself overlooking a platform, a nervous scientist who was augmented with machinery to help speed up the process watched the work. “As you can see.. we’re right on schedule and should have something to present to both the Lord Regent and the Imperial Ruling Council.” The nervous scientist would say, fingers pushing his visor up as he sounded so matter of factly. Detritus grumbled, his arms crossed together. All the scientist could see under Detritus’s helmet was two glowing eyes with a yellow glare. Below they watched as both Imperial and Ithorian scientists were sharing datapads, test tubes of various compounds mixed and synthesized from the numerous specimens gathered from the jungle floor. “That’s what I’ve heard before Doctor Zavara… Director Zuraxin expects results… The Lord-Regent expects results. Bring me a weapon that will gain favor within the Empire.” Detritus turned on his heel towards Doctor Zavara as the smaller human would step back slightly, his hands clutching the datapad to his chest. “Y-Yes I understand Lord Ren… I will double my efforts.” Zavara tried to reason with the Brutish council member. “I hope so… If a weapon cannot be delivered to the regent… I will shut this operation down personally.” Detritus implied, he felt his fingers slowly trail along the hilt of his lightsaber as if he was implying a greater price to pay for failure.

Then before Zavara could answer what looked to be a lad assistant would approach the calculating scientist whispering in his ear. The doctor’s look changed from one of nervous anticipation to slight worry. “What is it?” Detritus had demanded of the scientist as Zavara finally spoke. “T-There seems to be a slight issue.. Sensors have picked up an unusual amount of movement… It’s probably the wildlife.” The bald human would try to shrug it off. His eyes focused on the data being fed through the pad. Detritus didn’t respond immediately, but reached out with the Force. He couldn’t tell who or what, but something was coming towards the compound.

“Stay here… Finish the work. Prepare a copy of the data and all viral research to be sent towards Director Zuraxin.” He emphasized by digging his pointer finger right into the short bald man’s chest. Zavara would only nod. “Of course… Right away Lord Ren.” Zavara would focus back onto the rest of his team, both imperial and Ithorian scrambling to continue the great and deadly work of a bio-weapons division. Detritus turned to head out of the deepest level of the compound towards the security terminal.

Inside the security room was various holograms. Currently no one was inside but Detritus. “What is going on?” He asked himself as he watched the Jungle floor from the outside. All day there was silence, but his senses were going haywire. What was the Force telling him that his eyes didn’t? His eyes narrowed upon the security holograms, hard to see through the thick jungle brush or the animals that wandered in and out. Then he had seen it, blurry movement at first but as he enhanced the security camera his eyes widened.

Mandalorians and not one or two, but an entire force was being sent through the jungle brush. Detritus questioned why the Mandalorians? Why here in Imperial space? He growled, one hand clenched into a fist, the other finding its way to the Ren Lightsaber. “It appears we have company…” He said in a mixture of growing bloodlust and irritation. The Neo-Crusaders had boots on the ground on Ithor of all places, but he had been waiting for this day. Excitement flooded through his veins as the parasitic Orbalisks commanded him to seek them out. The Mandalorians would stop at nothing from getting inside the research facility.

“Ready or not.. Here I come.” He said as he moved to activate the facility defenses and give the Mandalorian Crusaders a proper welcome.

 

[Stevru Klamat]

Alias⠀ Prodo Vasilias, Pro Imperial Mercenary, Veteran of the Mygeeto Raid
Uniform⠀ Beta-Plast Snow Trooper Armor (With Significant Modifications/Concealing Beskar)
Equipment⠀Rifle (With Underslung Shotgun) Side Arms (Matched Set)
​

---

⠀

Location⠀ Bridge, INV Sularen's Revenge, Ithor, Mid Rim
Objective 1⠀ Defend the Lord Regent

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Beskar under Beta-plast, a mask for a mask. He'd felt, for a short time, what it might be like to be a hero. On Naboo, Enarc, Vassek. And now he stood shoulder to shoulder with some of the very forces he had fought on the latter two worlds. It was a sobering reminder of what he really was. An operative of balance. A nameless background player in the events that shaped the galaxy. A tool. A weapon. A killer. This is Our Way.

Nothing Sacred. Nothing Pure.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀He'd come in with the other mercs, smoking and joking with the best of the worst the Outer Rim could offer. When he'd been pulled from their ranks at the rendezvous, he'd been curious. When he'd been met with an escort of DE regulars he was alarmed. When he'd arrived aboard the Sularen's Revenge, he'd been coldly certain that his cover was blown, that he was to be tortured, interrogated, and jailed. So it was with a sense of bemused relief that he stood at the Lord Regent's side, one beta-plast plated gauntlet gripping the top of Sularen's command chair as they slid from hyperspace.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Matte white armor stood out on the bridge. He shifted slightly, releasing his grip on the chair and stepping slightly forward, eyes turning down to the tactical display. They were ahead of the main force. They were launching fighters to screen them, but with little else between them and the enemy, the intent of the move was clear. It was a dare. A challenge. A rebuke of the idea of weakness that the Mandalorian assault implied. The commando approved, begrudgingly. To the Neo-Crusaders, power was the only thing that's real. To meet aggression with aggression was to speak the language of their foe.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀The strange, quasi-Storm Trooper glanced at the newcomer as they entered the bridge. The tension, already palpable, grew with his presence. A murmur amid the officers. Tightening of jaws. Furtive glances. The lone commando eyed Tristan Evore , absolutely nothing given away by his body language, features hidden beneath cowl and concealed beskar. He stood, still and solid amid the brewing chaos of battle, one hand resting on the fore-end of his rifle. A veiled threat? No. Merely the single manifestation of his urge to be out there instead of in here. His eyes slid from Tristan and back to the tactical display.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀He knew why he was here. While the Lord Regent was aboard, the enemy wouldn't dare destroy the vessel, lest they lose their prize to vacuum or an escape pod to the surface. Which meant one thing and one thing only.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀The enemy would attempt to board them. And he would be there to make them wish that they had not.

Tags [DE] | Marlon Sularen | The Lord of Hunger | Tristan Evore
Tags [NEO/Foundation] | Kalah Redra | Yuri Maji | Tarrak

 

[Darth Veyriss]

BREAKOUT

Tag: Ninurta Slaabur'r Crane Baxa
"Subject 14 has begun experiencing complete auditory hallucinations. The isolation period lasted twenty-nine standard days—five fewer than projected before psychotic deterioration set in. Initial fear responses were mild, but by day seventeen, the subject exhibited self-inflicted wounds, desperate for any sensory input beyond the void of silence. A promising reaction. I will adjust the next trial accordingly."

Darth Veyriss spoke methodically, her gloved hands moving over the control panel as she observed the trembling prisoner through the reinforced transparisteel window. The flickering red emergency lights cast deep shadows in the sterile chamber, but her eyes remained fixed on the subject's ragged breathing, the erratic rise and fall of his chest.

Then—a disturbance.

The tremor rippled through the facility, rattling the lights overhead. Distant alarms howled to life, and the status display flickered, signaling a breach.

Veyriss exhaled sharply, irritation breaking through her usual detached demeanor. She tapped the console to access the security feeds, bringing up grainy footage of Mandalorian Neo-Crusaders sweeping through the lower levels, blasters carving through stormtroopers and guards alike. Their movements were methodical, their tactics efficient—far more than the rabble of local resistance fighters who had attempted to free prisoners before.

She pressed a finger to her temple, rubbing the bridge of her nose. This is an inconvenience.

Her research—weeks of carefully applied stimuli, chemical inducements, and forced isolation—could be undone in a matter of hours. She had no patience for this disruption. If the Mandalorians wanted the prisoners, they would find only husks of broken minds waiting for them.

Veyriss keyed in a command. The lights in her section of the prison flickered, then died, leaving only the emergency glow of crimson illumination. The ventilation systems hissed as they dispersed her latest formula—a neural stimulant designed to amplify fear responses while inducing hallucinations.

The prisoners began to stir. Some screamed, slamming themselves against the walls of their cells. Others whispered feverishly, their voices overlapping in a discordant hum of paranoia. One clawed at his own skin, trying to rid himself of the unseen things he believed crawled beneath it.

Veyriss watched the frantic displays work their way across the displays. So much work to study in the aftermath. Messy yes, but mass hysteria was so very difficult to obtain accurate data from.

Not a total waste, after all.

She turned her gaze back to the security feeds. The Mandalorians would push forward, finding themselves in a battlefield where their greatest enemy was not blaster fire or the Sith, but their own minds unraveling, and the frenzy of the terrified prisoners.

And when they finally reached her—if they reached her—she would be waiting.

Well, that was the idea really. She sighed and pushed away from the console, and began her walk down to oversee the newly worked up escapees. She clasped her mask back over her Chiss features, and inhaled.

She could always blame their deaths on the Mandalorians after all.

 

[Trent Perris]

Protective Utility Clothing | Heavy Rifleman Gear
Concealed Blaster | Blaster Pistol | Assault Rifle | Blackout Batons
Lodestone Devices | Explosive Charges
Wristcomp | Wristband
Mammoth​

Trenton was checking his gear. Checking the gear of the shuttle staff. Checking the landing gears of the Mammoth. Busying his hands while his mind ran nearly as fast as the hyperdrive aboard the The Harpy. This had to go smoothly. Things had to be kept to a tight schedule. Lives depended on it. And this time he had the room to take more than a handful of prisoners out.

He could feel the ship lurch back to realspace despite the buffers in place.

A deep sigh of preparation as his mind began to finally settle. Focus. To give him the clarity he needed to execute this mission. To set aside his own morals for the time being as he examined his hands. Staring at the armored glove. Seeing the blood still there from the last mission. Thoughts of who those beings might have gone home to, despite where their allegiances obviously sat them on the fence. It made his stomach knot and twist as he continued to think about it.

"<Sir, we are awaiting clearance.>"

"<Copy that. Closing the hatch.>" Standing on the loading ramp of the ship for a moment longer before entering to tap the panel to shut the ramp.

Having looked over the other ships in the contingent, it was the last sentimental moment he allowed himself before stowing his glasses in a protective case. Watching the world around him blur before he produced the tiny container for his contact lenses.

Taking the few moments needed to secure them in place and blinking to get them aligned before storing them away and pulling the synthmesh mask over his face once more. Another deep breath as he allowed himself to let go. To center himself for the mission ahead. The chaos of battle always had some mysterious energy behind it that seemed to draw out the best and worst in a person. Deep down he wondered just how many times he could engage that energy before it changed him.

Before it twisted him into someone his loved ones wouldn't recognize anymore.

The thought falling away when he remembered that he wasn't doing this because it was easy. Wasn't doing this because it was appeasing some darker aspect of himself. He was doing this because no one else would step up to handle the task. To tackle the difficult mission that required not only patience, but perseverance. That required them all to remain steadfast against the slow creep of complacency and corruption. To give hope to those that had long put it aside.

"<Green light. Operation is go. Hold onto your butts.>"

The shuttle rumbled as the engines roared to life and carried him and those tasked with this particular mission down to the surface. There were no viewports to watch from that weren't on the bridge. The surprise no doubt a nasty one that waited for them on the surface. Adjusting his assault rifle until he only needed to raise it to his cheek to begin sorting out enemy from friend. Waiting on the ramp until the light would alert him to when he needed to begin doing the thing he had strong reservations about.

But needed to do in order to clear a path for those that needed him. That needed him to secure their safety.

The shuttle eventually settling before the light shone a bright green. Ramp hissing at it opened to reveal a bulwark against entry. A smirk hidden beneath the mask as he moved towards one of the outer walls and began planting some of his explosive charges. The process a short one before a section of the wall was torn down. Wide enough for a body to pass through with speed. Assault rifle resting against his cheek as he entered the breach. Blaster fire from higher up nearly ending him before he'd properly got knee deep in the poodoo.

Stepping back into cover and switching shoulders to lean out from the breach. Taking a breath before sending two carefully aimed shots into the guard that had tried to stop him.

"Fething idjit. Could have waited for a better shot." He hissed, watching the body slump before moving on.

Making his way inside through doors that were already open. Following someone else's path as he kept his eyes peeled. The barrel of his weapon kept from announcing his presence around corners as he slowly pied them out. Switching shoulders as corners demanded and keeping his radio chatter to a minimum as he headed towards where he guessed the first set of cells were.

Altan | Kalah Redra | Reluctantly NEO
Saltare Dothon | Sid Berik​

 

[Yuri Maji]

HAKASSI | PRISON
ALLIES: TF | NEO | Kalah Redra
ENEMIES: DE | Marlon Sularen | Stevru Klamat
ENGAGING: Stevru Klamat
GEAR: In bio

MOTHER​

Yuri was in the hangar bay, checking and rechecking all of his equipment. Weapons, armour, attachments, the whole nine yards. He couldn’t deny that he was a little nervous about this deployment. Taking a break from his checks, he massaged his mechanical shoulder for a moment. The last few attempts at playing soldier left him with more than just a new arm, luckily checking his equipment helped to calm his mildly traumatized nerves.

He was no soldier. He knew how to operate alongside them and coordinate like one, he didn’t have a say in that with his childhood, but he made a very strict point of not becoming one.

Somehow he kept defying that point.

The Hound was yanked out of his thoughts when his commlink beeped with a summon to the bridge. It left him a bit confused, but he didn’t argue as he equipped all his effects and made his way to the bridge with a steady pace.

When he reached the bridge, the armada dropped out of hyperspace and revealed the opposing fleet ahead. Yuri took a moment to stare at it as he removed his helmet. ”Yuri Maji… reportin’ to the bridge.” He spoke up to announce his presence, still watching the imposing sight ahead of them.

His arm began to cramp up some more.

He finally turned his attention to who looked like the commanding officer. ”Ma’am, you summoned me?” He greeted the woman. A Zygerrian. He stifled the urge to scrounge his nose. He had dealt with them multiple times… he also sabotaged them on just as many occasions. Anyone who traded with people’s lives was an easy entity to double cross.

”Decent target practice for today, from the look of it.” He quipped with a smirk, attempting to break the ice, even if only for his own sake.

 

[Crane Baxa]

Equipment: Lightsabers of Greed
Tags: Darth Veyriss Ninurta Slaabur'r

​

The battles were already frantic in a facility far fuller in regard than he cared to admit. Being shot at was one thing, being chased around the facility with small legs was another thing. The effects of...whatever drugs they had given him had passed hours ago though he still felt in his mind, a distinct ticking noise that was screwing up some of his coordination. Possibly a form of withdrawal that would weaken his abilities in the Force but so far, he seemed competent enough to keep doing what he was best at, running away and stealing anything not bolted down. The second part was a work in progress.

Then a hiss had occurred....the vents dispersed some strange gas as the Chadra-Fan tried to wrap part of his jacket over his face. There was an unusual feeling that was washing over him...shadows that seemed to be creeping closer at every moment. Unaware that a particular person, by the name of Darth Veyriss , had conducted a fear toxin over the area, he started to kneel over and cough heavily, feeling the effects of the toxin mix in with the corruption that was of the Seed of Rage.

Battling the Seed of Rage in his body was a challenge, his mind had to overcome his Greed as the closer he was to one, aside from the unfortunate shard that has imbedded into him, the worse the mind becomes. Coughing a bit harder, he felt his eyes turn a more golden color as the mind was thinking frantically. I must guard precious, yes I must guard the treasure, all belongs to the Rat! Fear the treasure gone, not the body! I replace the body, I become the electrum, I become the credits! The mad rodent thought to himself, succumbing once again to the Greed that holds in the heart and mind of the Chadra-Fan.

With almost next to no hesitation, a loud screech would erupt from the deep end of the gassed part of the facility. The hallucinations were strong, showing those that were holding things of value the Chadra-Fan would claim to be his and his alone! As each couple of seconds passed, the lightsabers of red hummed true, it almost speaking to him of the Greed but it would soon attempt to steer him towards the exit. The Greed knew what was not real, it knew that it must find true value, not value among chopped prisoners, parts of their body and cybernetics hauled from their corpses!

After a bit longer, there was a clang that some of the Mandalorians would hear, behind a large blast door that would connect back into the prisoner holding area, more notably towards Ninurta Slaabur'r Mandalorians. The sounds of slamming behind the door would echo into the facility as the blast door would give a small dent outwards for a brief moment, pulling part of mechanisms inward. On the other side, the Chadra-Fan was shoving the blast door with the Force, denting it further outward as it creaked violently as it was stretching but holding to not let the rodent out! Pushing a bit more, he would finally stop as the greedy creature would jump onto the top left corner of the wall, impaling his lightsabers into it.

On the other side, the red blades violently broke through as it would start to slide to the right, the right lightsaber moving before the left one, as if it was like rock climbing. Slowly one of them should realize that the shoving the blast door apart was not the goal. Rather, it was the foundation and weakening the wall was the overall goal to cut itself out! Moving faster to the side, the lightsabers would drop down onto the other corner as the blast door would soon be cut open! Unless of course...someone ruined it in some...unique fashion.

 

[Koda Fett]

It seemed as if that brief encounter on Hapes was a sign of larger things to come. Once content to disappear into the underworld as the stars raged on without him, coming across one meant stumbling on into others. This time, with the promise of payment for retrieving a certain someone from the Imperial detention centre. An easy enough job.

The Mandalorians were ever eager to allow him his chance to set upon their battlefield.

Fett was an army of one. He sowed chaos with each hail of blaster fire, salvo of wrist-mounted missiles, or roaring plume of flames. But, a detention centre held their most favoured clientele in the depths of the facility. It would take more than the initiating assault to reach him. A Chadra-Fan that the Hutts paid highly to retrieve certain information, caught and captured, though it was wise enough not decrease his value by informing anyone else where the information was hidden prior to that.

On one of the many walkways, Koda strode with an easy saunter and blaster in hand. With his boot, he rolled a corpse over and stashed the access card from an Imperial pocket beside the searing hole left in their chest. You won't be needing that, he thought.

Anguis Dux

 

[Careena Fett]

C a r e e n a .F e t t

| Location | Selnesh, Prison​

| Objective | Prison Break​

​

Careena remained out of sight as the prison began to slowly devolve into a madhouse of tight, close-quarter hell.​

​

Riot Guards and stormtroopers scattering to try and repel the incoming Neo Crusaders. A firefight had broken out not too far as she pressed up against a wall, her gaze shifting as blaster bolts crossed in front of her. She glanced left and right, assessing the situation as stormtroopers began to go down, a hand lightly resting on the holster at her side.​

​

Her eyes narrowed as the smoke cleared, the firefight being short spotting a familiar figure alone. The briefest moments of hesitation stayed her hand as she gripped the pistol, still cloaked and hidden from detection as the figure passed by her on his way to retrieve an item from a corpse. That hesitation passed as she silently unholstered the pistol and came up behind Koda Fett .​

"The last time I saw that armor was years ago." Careena's cloak dissolved as they passed by, revealing the Mandalorian as her finger hovered over the trigger. "Now you're either the man I once knew or someone who killed him and took his armor, and if that's the case..." A soft click was heard as the barrel of a blaster could be felt pressing from underneath the back of Koda's helmet, the muzzle easily positioned in such a way that all it would take was a single blaster bolt to kill the man, "...I am obligated to avenge his death."​

​

 

[Anguis Dux]

"Interesting," came a voice from behind the Fetts, cold but not robotic, followed by the sucking sound of a blade leaving flesh.

Turning around, there emerged a figure from the rising smoke created by the blazing inferno below the walkway. Cloaked in deep blue, the long coat swayed with each stride, its edges barely disturbed by the searing updraft. The polished silver helmet entirely concealed his face, a smooth, impassive mask with no eyes or mouth. A crimson insignia was pinned across his right breast: a serpent's fanged maw.

It held a gleaming saber, the hilt gilded and the blade slick with blood. Gripped in his fist was the throat of a dark-haired man gasping a death rattle from the sucking stab wound in his stomach. He was wearing a tattered prisoner's uniform and looked like he had been beaten badly.

"Dux," his cracked lips muttered, "Viper Group will never be yours-"

But the figure was no longer interested in what he had to say. It had a new focus. Like a child throwing away a toy, it pitched his body over the railing and into the fires below.

Something exploded. Maybe one of the vehicle's fuel cells in the depot underneath going critical. Supersonic chunks of shrapnel embedded themselves all around them. A shard the size of a truck's wheel came whizzing in, barely an inch from the thing's face. It didn't flinch.

"By my calculations and by the arrangements I made, it should be impossible for any of your kind to be this deep into the facility this soon. You're four minutes too early," it advanced towards them. "I even left myself an adjustable window of thirty seconds in case I missed a factor or two. Yet, here the both of you are. Even in my heyday in special operations, I could never have hoped to make your current progress this quickly. Most impressive."

The faces of both Koda and Careena now reflected off its helm. It's voice was now like that of poisoned wine. "Be it far from me to interrupt what appears to be a pleasant reunion. However, given the current chaos throughout this facility, I have limited time. It is clear to me that you are both warriors without peer. But your skills are wasted by the mad ravings of a warlord clad in beskar. You search for a worthy battle. I am sorry to disappoint you by telling you that you will find no such battle with the Dark Empire. Alas, it is now a spasming corpse kept aloft by trapped rodents with nowhere to run, albeit one that pays well."

"Unlike my and your employers, I will not disappoint. I offer you battles beyond imagining against every great galactic power. Esoteric weapons capable of tearing apart a man at the molecular level I can put in your hands. Mountains of credits to do whatever you wish with. Be it to rebuild Mandalore or gamble away in the dens of Canto Blight, I care not what you do with your wealth. Squads of the most elite men and women in Galaxy could be at your beck and call to take vengeance on those that have wronged you. All you merely have to do is pledge fealty to Viper Group, and it shall all be yours."

Careena Fett Koda Fett

 

[Brent Warnel]

The Vod around him swarmed the facility, approaching from multiple sides to cover all angles. They could see defensive turrets and security guards walking around the facility's perimeter, but the thick vegetation had kept his men concealed so far.

"All squads engage," Brent said over their comms.

Around the facility, his Mandalorians opened fire. Blaster bolts, kinetic rounds, rockets, and explosives lit the jungle. The defensive turrets were among the first targets to be destroyed, as their fire could rip through his men and bog them down. The security personnel along the perimeter returned fire, but they had not been expecting a large force of heavily armed Mandalorians, and they were slowly retreating into the facility.

"Push up, get me a squad on the roof with overwatch," Brent commanded.

As the command left his mouth, a jetpack squad launched from the ground and arced deep into the facility, dodging blaster fire to land on the roof and engage the guards from a new angle. Blaster fire rained down from above, driving the guards into further retreat.

At the same time as the initial confrontation, an infiltration squad was making their way to an entrance on a less engaged zone, hoping to breach the facility. Their mission was simple: while Brent kept the main force of enemy personnel focused on him, they would seek out the research inside the facility and extract it.

"Keep up the fire," Brent barked into his comms. "Bring the last turrets down; keep those guards pinned. Squads Aaray and Stone flank to the right and give me cover on Squad Aay'han."

Brent kept up his own fire but watched his tactical display, showing the soldiers beneath his command fan out and overwhelm the defenders. This was going to be too easy, not even a challenge. This cemented just how inept and weak the Dark Empire had become. They hadn’t even stationed a competent commander at such an important research facility. How the mighty had fallen.

"Push up, overlap fields of fire, and breach the entrances. Let's get this done."

Detritus Ren