Ask Invasion The Subjugation of Lothal

[Fenyang]

Walk On Music​

The rule of the Mand'Alor was founded upon conquest. And for his first act of conquest, he could have started anywhere. He could have raided Coruscant, the original homeworld of their people. He could have raised the fleet to conquer the space immediately around . Hell, he could have flown it to Dromuund Kaas, destroying it in a suicide mission.

He chose Lothal. This would be a fine demonstration of the capacity of his new fleet. As quickly as he could, he readied the fleet under his command, and called upon the clans of Mandalore to join him on the front. The Crusade began anew.

Lothal had angered him countless times. It was the home to an ancient Jedi temple, which had been recently reactivated. Existing as a Jedi was enough warrant the wrath of the Crusade Crusade. Senator Starros was practically obsessed with the warriors. Fenyang counted on it, he hoped that they would meet the Mandos in battle.

The planet was also reportedly bolstering its defenses against Sith invasion with their neighbors. A defense that was recently weakened, after the disaster on Mon Calamari. War with them would be a real test. Not a steamroll. They were, arguably, the strongest military within the FWA. If they fell, Mandalore could seize entire systems with ease. Strike two.

Strike three was the planet's pristine environment and economy. While the well-known Senator Starros launched into his public crusades about the 'evils' of Sith, Mandalore sat barren. With a stroke of their pen, they could have sent aid, relief, any kind of help to the dirt ball now known as Mandalore. They had left Mandalore to fend for itself, same as the rest of the galaxy. The Free Worlds Alliance had choked their world, never offering it the aid that the other parties of the galaxy so easily attracted. Well, Lothal? This is the result of an independent Mandalore. A hungry Mandalore.

We are the wolf, the badger, the mudhorn, the hunters. And we will soon see who is the prey.

The Mand'Alor's new fleet dropped into Lothal's gravity well first. Two Pugioo-class frigates, three Fremen-class frigates, eight Raider-III Corvettes, and each of their complements of fighters began to pour out across the system's territory, destroying defensive structures and mobilizing to meet Lothal's fleet head on. While the combined strength of the new Mandalorian fleet would occupy the planet's defensive navy, those with courage would join him on the surface itself.

Flanked by his old Deathwatch comrades and a new crop of Imperial soldiers sworn to the Mand'Alor, Fenyang Ordo made it to a grassy plain overlooking the Capital City of Lothal. Here. The perfect site for the beginning of a new Order.

One of his Deathwatch comrades began to film him, going lower so as to accentuate his height. The setting sun captured the glow of the of his Beskar as troops began to charge towards the front. His helmed face was broadcast across the entire world, and, as large news cables began to pick up word of the attack, the entire galaxy. Something new began.

"Citizens of Lothal," He started, his voice carrying a natural, booming command to it. "I am Fenyang Ordo, Mand'Alor."

Wind swept across the plains as he stood. Something to consider. He signaled for two of his subjects with capes on their armor to stand behind him, to that the galaxy could see the dramatic beauty of the wind rippling through their capes.

"The undisputed, uncontested, sole lord of the Mandalorians. For too long, we have let you sit by, as our world rots and festers. We suffer countless indignities from your peoples, reduced to common bounty hunters and mercenaries. You use us as toys. It is our fault for letting you."

It was time. A pair of the soldiers had fetched what he needed - sympathetic-looking victims. A young farmer and her son, sobbing and pounding on the Beskar chest plates of their captors as they were dragged before the Mand'Alor. He grabbed the woman's face, shoving it into the camera's screen. Her tears filled the display.

"I warn you now, Lothal. I am not like these weak-willed, honor-obsessed Mandalorians you hired. I stand solely for Mandalore. And I will do anything for my world." He threw the woman to the ground and fired two shots from his blaster pistol into her. The weeping stopped. The Death Watch commandos dragged the boy away as he pleaded and mewled for his mother.

"A new era has begun. Surrender the Jedi of this world now, and you may yet live to see it. Oya! Take the world, brothers. Leave them nothing!"

His first move as Mand'Alor. His rule was borne atop a smoldering corpse. Now, he would add the ashes of Lothal to the pile. His only hope was his subjects, his new Brothers and Sisters, would follow.

 

[Zerath Eblon]

Darkness had come to Lothal.

Zerath sensed the danger a few moments before the sky filled with enemies; Mandalorian and Sith ships swarming around the planet of Lothal where he happened to be visiting. Alarms sounded as the defenders scrambled to defend their world, their families, their home, from the invaders. Fear and grief hung heavy in the Force; the citizens had begun to realize that the war had found them; a war that had already claimed the lives of millions and would add to that grim toll today.

Darkness had come to Lothal.

Zerath could feel the eyes of those who knew him to be a Jedi boring into him, and while none suggested handing over the Knight, their thoughts were not far from the idea as each saw their own mother, sister, wife, or daughter in the pleading eyes of the woman murdered. The invading ships threatened to block out the very sun, casting their shadows over the planet.

Darkness had come to Lothal.

But.

Zerath Eblon was determined not to let darkness have the final say; not today, not any day. The Mirulakan/Zabrak strode calmly through the streets, guiding refugees back towards the defensive lines that were already springing up. The invaders would find Lothal a tough nut to crack. Already, fierce resistance had broken out across the planet, with some of the fiercest fighting happening in an open city square near a local armory. That was where Zerath headed, approaching from the southern side of the square, and as he arrived he ignited his green blade in defiance of the invaders pressing the attack from the north.

Darkness had come to Lothal, and Light rose to meet it.



@Fine Dining Set

 

[Gett'se Vizsla]

Fury and faith.

These were what Gett'se brought with him to Lothal. Alongside his assorted blasters and blades and 'nades that always accompanied the Mandalorian. Fury at the Sith for their desecration of Mandalore, fury at his brethren for their choice to follow a Mand'alor propped up by that foul sorcerer Darth Raze. And the greatest, fury at himself for letting his faith override the righteous anger that burned within him as he marched into battle alongside the Mand'alor. Mand'alor the Puppet. Mand'alor the Disgraceful.

Still.

The drumbeats of war called, the Mand'alor had called, and Gett'se Vizsla was oathsworn by clan and by beskar to follow on the damned path that his people now walked. Servants... No, allies of the wretched Sith. The red blade that had shattered his youth and led to the events that brought Gett'se into his true family burned across his mind before he pushed the though away as the Mand'alor began his speech.

He almost flinched when the Mand'alor shot the woman. Almost. A single tear shed behind his buyce for the innocent dead before his eyes glazed over. Not the only tear that he would shed this day no doubt. Harden your heart. He told himself as he steeled himself for the death and destruction that was to come, be it his own, or any fool aruetiise that stood in his path.

 

[Vaselsk Thawn]

Vaselsk had been tending to affairs in the Outer Rim, gathering information and helping those he could. The reports and things he had begun to learn had brought him great discomfort. Dark motivations and hidden agendas were moving about, but by whom and what, the Knight had not yet managed to discover. He found himself on Lothal, meditating upon his next move. He had chosen to find peace among the people, to feel the fullness in life, but what he felt was something different.

Fear, uncertainty, panic, and then came the physical screams. His eyes would open slowly as he peered out towards the sky to see the ships of war coming upon them. He heard their Alor's words, and the callousness that came with them. It seemed something had awoken the old decaying beasts of the Mandalorians, only instilling the fears that something had been brewing beneath the Jedi's noses.

"Begun has the Mandalorian and Jedi Wars..." He'd explain in a quiet and contemplative state, a frown forming across his pale skin. But, he would not back down, and it seemed that there would be others to stand there. He ignited his blade, the turquois blade came into view, where the citizens ran from, that it where the Jedi Knight ventured towards. It was where he found Zerath.

"We must do what we swore to do," he'd say with a neutral and distant tone. "We have no other choice, together we'll stand."

tag: @SlagathorTheUnknown

 

[Gabriel Morales]

Gabriel wasn't actually in the temple when the ships appeared overhead, but damn if he wasn't moving his ass when shit got real. All the spiritual stuff aside, he'd signed up to change the path of his life to help others instead of just killing them for money. The mother, struck dead, hit Gabriel in a place he didn't like. This was exactly why he'd become a Jedi.

As he gathered his things and rushed into the city, words only he heard were muttered into the air.

"Though I walk through the shadow of death, I shall not fear, for you are with us. Be our protection. Direct our minds by your presence. Watch over our paths and guide us. Fix our hearts in iron, steel our souls from sin and hatred. Guide the fallen to their peaceful rest. May the Force be with us all."

MUSIC​

He came out from from an alley somewhere between the other Jedi and slowed down, dressed in his Jedi robes, lightsaber and knife still on his belt. His Seyugi gauntlets covered his arms, powered and ready. By the time he showed up, little emotion showed on his face aside from a brow furrowed with worry and focus and tightened muscles. Behind the other Jedi he hurried a couple of civilians into leaving the square through the same alley he'd come from, getting them away from danger.

Gabriel didn't know how well he'd handle an active battlefield compared to a one-on-one in an alley, but he would try his best. He tried to swallow how nervous and jittery he felt. Focus on the present, be mindful, ignore distractions. Pick your target, find a weakness, take it down.

"I've got your back," he said to the other two, on guard against the invaders in the square.

 

[Bak-Ru Shooska]

Bak-Ru hustled off of the transport and made his way towards one of the Lothal defense lines. The young Weequay didn’t hesitate a moment when the call went out for aid. He, just like most had seen the video. The complete disregard for innocent life, yet another snuffed out for the sake of power and conquest. It filled him with rage. Not one that would send him into a frenzy, but one that was would set ablaze his sense of duty. The oath he swore ran through his mind as his legs carried him to the front line. Protect those that others would abandon.

Soon enough Bak-Ru would find himself entering an open city square. The lines in the sand had been drawn. As he lined up with the others to defend the city on the southern side he would do his best to remain calm. He was not battle tested. He was just barely an adult, but as the Jedi lit their sabers it would fill him with sense of clarity. Today he would be tested. Today he might perish, but one way or another he would lay it all on the line to defend the peoples of Lothal.

“Sector Ranger reporting for duty!” Bak-Ru called out to the Jedi. “On your command!”

 

[Laeonas Tannaras]

​

He wasn’t a stranger to violence. To muggings, robberies, bar fights and beatings. He’d made his living by breaking bones, be they thumbs, knees or backs. That was who the bastard was; the petty gangster that hurt people. But those were times that he’d moved past— or at least, he’d told himself that he’d moved past them. There’d always be a Laeonas that enjoyed the rush of adrenaline, the thrill of a genuine fight.

Violence had manifested itself in a number of forms, but never before had it appeared like this. Not the kind where ships blotted out the sun, where dozens, hundreds, thousands fought for their lives. War was a foreign concept to the gangster-turned padawan, a new form of violence he’d never practiced. As he stood in the square, having rushed out of the temple, alongside a number of comrades who he didn’t know the names of, that fact would become all the more clear as he got a good, long look up at the sky.

He’d met Mandalorians before. Never more than one at a time, even one seemed like a relatively intimidating challenge. But it wasn’t like he had a choice in the matter— he never had. Violence came to him, and the people who brought it broke, or he did. That was how it was, how it always would be, whether he was Laeonas Tannaras, two bit gangster, or padawan of the Jedi order. These people had come to hurt him, hurt the people around him, and hurt the people of this world. There was no room for compromise, diplomacy, or even escape.

He idly wondered how much he’d be able to pawn off a set of Beskar armor for before he heard the distinct shouting of a Weequay. “Fuck, don’t know that one.” He thought to himself. “He’s not shooting at us, so prolly a friendly.” He noted, unclipping his saber from his belt. The white glow and familiar hum of the blade met his sense, and he let out a long, deep breathe. He briefly glanced at the nameless comrades around him, carrying sabers or blasters.

He didn’t want to think about how many of them would be dead by the end of this.

 

[Nox Solus]

Nox heeded the call of his Mandalore and readied for war as did all the other Clans rallied by his new push. As a Solus, he begrudgingly accepted the help of the Sith when it was presented, a pill that was hard to swallow but one he did nonetheless out of loyalty for his Clan. It was necessary for his people, an injection of life into a dying breed of warriors that once more needed purpose but more importantly, a guarantee that their generations would live on with prosperity. It was the primary motivation that replayed in his head as he marched on to battle.

It had been years since a crusade had been summoned and Nox equipped himself properly for it with the assistance of their new Sith allies. His armor, once rugged and worn, gleamed with a new shine and care as he stepped out onto the field. With the influx of the Sith's supplies and credits, he acquired himself a jetpack and other traditional and expensive features that were known for his people but out of reach for them. That didn't even account for the trove of weapons he carried on him as well, creating a terrifying sight of metal to behold. With the new equipment, it rejuvenated a fire within to see himself properly donned once more like a true Mandalorian.

But as he watched his Mandalore lay his claim to the planet, he was swiftly reminded of the price it cost. Nox's tall and imposing figure stood to the side as the Mand'alor made his display of will and watched him shoot down an innocent woman. The Solus practically detested the sight as she had been no warrior and proved no threat to any of them but still made no move to intervene, his only reaction being the crinkling of his gloves as his grip tightened around the hilt of one of his weapons. Nox had expected some bleed over from the Sith but he hadn't expected it this quickly as he still held to a code of honor within. Just like the Mand'alor said, a new era had begun and one Nox was still accumulating with, albeit roughly.

Despite his reservations, his faith and his loyalty remained strong and the atmosphere of battle drew him in, the drums of war sounding. His heart pounded loudly in his chest, adrenaline pushed through his veins and when the Mand'alor gave the word, Nox was the first to step forward as he shouted out, "Warriors!" Without adding anything else, his jetpack would ignite as he took into the air, one by one fellow Mandalorians doing the same, the amount turning into a massive tide of tempered steel that was aimed straight for the heart of the city.

Nox would fly in formation with the rest of the Badgers, each filing in as they prepared themselves for what lay ahead. With one more glance at the sight of warriors around him, the Solus withdrew his beskad and held it within the air, the traditional weapon of their people, his fervent voice echoing through the comms of the front line, "Show them a true Mandalorian!" As they neared toward the city, the Solus would let out one more rallying chant, "OYA! OYA!"

The residents and defenders would see a massive cloud approach in the distance, a lethal storm filled with warriors of different colors as they moved in unison and honed in on them. Even from where they stood, they would hear the chant that had struck fear into the hearts of empires and civilizations for generations, one that led to the deaths of thousands and could shatter the will of anyone once they fully heard it. The sound shook the ground itself from the sheer ferocity as it rolled over the city, fueled by a primal lust for battle.

"OYA! OYA! OYA!"​

@Mr. Teatime @Tom @Howie Boy @SlagathorTheUnknown @TWD26 @Fine Dining Set @Arclight @Altaris

​

 

[Arthos Vizsla]

Arthos flew aboard Sith ships with his vod and he felt like this was something that had happened a thousand times before in different eras. It felt both right and wrong in equal measure but he didn’t pay it much mind because it didn’t matter in the face of his Mand’alor giving him the command. A Mandalorian had been able to step forward and claim the title and they marched under his command.

As it should be.

Still, armed with his typical armaments alongside a new vibrosword, Arthos was probably not what most people thought of when they thought of Mandalorian crusaders but he didn’t care. That would be their mistake and their last one at that. He stood to the side of someone from his own clan, someone he had been told by his adoptive mother he was not worthy of meeting.

“Gett’se.” he spoke to the other Vizsla quietly as the announcement rang out with a shot, “… I’ll see you in the Jedi Temple Hall, vod.”

Did he agree with the display?

No.

Did it matter?

Not unless he was willing to kill the Mand’alor and assume the title for himself and plunge his people into yet more chaos. So the question was less about if he approved of killing non-combatants and more about if he cared more about those innocents than he did about Mandalore. The answer wouldn’t exactly be moral to most people but he didn’t care.

Let every other world burn if Mandalore lived and breathed once again.

“Stand fast, Jetii. Act the part of our preferred enemies and die well – but die all the same.”

Stepping out the door, Arthos activated the new jetpack that he had been fitted for and rocketed out into the skies with the rest of the Mandalorians as they flew through the air towards their target like a nest of angry metal hornets. The jetpack might be new but he had practiced with his clan in preparation for earning one. Today he got to experience what it felt like to be part of a Mandalorian crusade charge and it had his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

"OYA! OYA!"

 

[Cal Starros]

He had always feared that this day would come. If not the Sith then someone - it was the way of the galaxy, war, conflict, death and destruction seemed to come in cycles. When it did, Lothal and her people always suffered. But this time, this time there were prepared. They had learned from their history, they have taken actions to mitigate the storm that was coming.

Cal Starros knew that as he looked out from his office window over Loth City, safe as it could be behind a vast dome-shield, anti-air cannons and more besides, installed with the help and support of his Jedi compatriots. Far above, the Lothal fleet had sprung into action as the warnings had sounded, meeting their invaders head-on, locked in a deadly embrace above the world that could soon burn.

On the streets of Loth City, and across Lothal herself, members of the Lothal Defence Force could be seen scrabbling to and fro, lanced of brilliant white-hot energy firing back ay the invaders.

Stalemate.

He knew what had to be done. Starros knew that this battle would be decided by individual acts of bravery, individuals taking the fight to the Mandalorian leaders, and ending this themselves. Cal Starros counted himself amongst those people - he would see this through. Indeed, he had been preparing for this day for so long, some had said he was paranoid, the duelling lessons as a boy, the practice as an adult, building up the navy, the fiery speeches that rallied the deep-seated passions of his people to fight for their home - all had seemed wasteful, but no now.

With a click, he fastened the clasp of his belt, a vibro-rapier hanging from his hip, a short dagger on the other side. His pistol was in its usual holster on his right leg, whilst a fetching half-cape and duelling gloves finished the ensemble. He was ready.

With a nod, he instructed the communicator to be activated, and broadcast himself to the planet and their invaders.

”People of Lothal, do not fear these invaders. With the strength of our arm and the iron will of Lothal, we shall prevail.” he opened his announcement with the usual bombast people had come to expect from him before moving to a far more pressing matter. Starros knew his intergalactic history, he was an exceptionally well-educated man, and he knew exactly what to do. ”Mandalor, you are not welcome here on Lothal - but I know the way of your people, and I respect your traditions. And that is why I say this.” he took a deep breath, and with practised ease spoke thusly ”
Tion'tuur gar alorir trattok'or, solus meg ganar kuryida kaysh hiibir kaysh naritir. Ibac cuyir tion'jor Ni juha gar dayn, Mandalor, at i'eumte cayata- o'r cunak be Ruym Oriya, ja'hailir de an Ruym bal Mando tisite. Ni at gar at i'eumte cayata, at kyr'am. Vorer ibic at, ra cuyir kar'taylir de an asas naas ori'shya a katcuryad, a srayahlya, bal a hut'uun.”

OOC - Mentions @Darasuum Jedi, and @Fine Dining Set Mandalor.

 

[Raya Kryze]

Rayyan heard the rallying call of his Mand’alor, and the Kryze did not hesitate for even a moment to ready himself for the wars to come. As he flew aboard the Sith transports with the rest of his clan, the Kryze couldn’t deny the way his heart pounded in his chest and the adrenaline that pumped through his veins. After over a century of being leaderless and suffering through stagnation, today was a day that Rayyan did not believe he would ever see. It was a day that resembled the Mandalorian crusades of old, and for the first time in his life Rayyan could see his a new path forward for his people, under the leadership of their Manda’lor.

He stepped out of the transport shuttle, striding down the ramp and onto the grassy fields of Lothal. The Kryze was equip in his traditional Beskar’gam which had been passed down his line for generations, retrofitted with new armaments courtesy of the supplies of their new ‘allies.’ While their alliance with the Sith wasn’t something Rayyan would stomach easily, it was the new reality and something he would adapt to. As he walked, Rayyan reached up to planted a fist against the armored plate of his chest - closing his eyes as he muttered out a quick, silent prayer for his brother Beau, wherever he was in the Galaxy at that moment.

His attention was rapidly drawn to the man they had all chosen at their leader, watching as the Mand'alor spoke. His visor tilted to the side slightly, and Rayyan was deathly silent when his Mand’alor made his gruesome display. He felt a distinct spike of bitterness coursing through his veins for a moment, manifesting in an exhale through his nostrils and the tightening of his grip around his weapon. The woman was no warrior and her death was a rapid reminder of who his people had allied themselves with.

Even still, the Kryze made no moves to intervene. Do to so would be to challenge their leader, and plunge his people back into chaos when they only now could see a path forward.

So long as Mandalore and his people thrived, the rest of the Galaxy could be damned.

Rayyan glanced towards his leader when the Mand’alor spoke, and gave a curt nod in response. Without another word, the Kryze ignited his jetpack and pushed off the ground - taking to the air alongside the rest of his brothers and sisters. He angled his body forward and joined in the swarm of metal that barreled towards the city.

Rayyan slide his blaster pistols from their holsters, pointing them forward as he neared the city. He heard the fervent voices of his brothers and sisters in arms, and the Kryze boomed out to join them in their battle chant. “OYA! OYA! OYA!

@Tom @Arcangel @Orbit @Fine Dining Set @Mr. Teatime @Nefieslab @Howie Boy @SlagathorTheUnknown

 

[Fenyang]

The battle had begun. Mando and Mando-aligned troopers met the Jedi and Lothalian resistance, fanning out across the expansive plains and into the heart of Lothal City. He received word that his soldiers had made it as far as the Jedi temple. Good. The rule of the new Mand'Alor was beginning without incident.

He checked his armor before he moved. In truth, it was barely worthy of the name 'Beskar.' As Mand'Alor, he likely could have taken a full set of pristine Beskar for himself. He knew he had to earn it, though. Earn it through combat in the eyes of his people. His rank made him the guide and protector of the Mandalorian people - if he gave in to base instincts of greed, began to plunder and steal without conquest, he would set his people back rather than push them forward. It was bad enough that the Sith had given them an army. Everything else, from here on out, they would take or make for themselves.

He reloaded the Galaar-15 Blaster Carbine he had just fired upon the innocent woman, and began to fit his rifle together. He still looked the part of an assassin, a terrorist. He would have to rectify that soon. Perhaps he could add a lightsaber to his belt. With his weapons assembled and loaded, he boarded the first troop transport headed for the city itself, accompanied by a guard composed exclusively of those Death Watch warriors who had joined him during his coronation on Mandalore. If the Clans would lead the air assault, he would lead the troops in the ground assault. His Beskar did not yet have a jetpack, anyways.

Then, the situation took a turn for the strange. He heard the Senator of Lothal issue a command, a single duel to the death for the fate of the world. Fenyang and his band of Death Watch warriors laughed within his transport as he listened to the prattle. Did the Senator of Lothal forget that he was aruteyc, a foreigner to them, and had no cultural basis to challenge the Mand'Alor? Or, perhaps he had missed his speech, where he said he cared nothing for 'honorable' combat? It would have been simple enough to target and shoot the Senator from outside the range of his blaster pistol or rapier, but he supposed the galaxy could use another example of the kind of leadership Fenyang would impose.

The timing of The Mandalorian advance could not have been better. As his own transport arrived outside to the city, just outside the square, the flying Mandalorian warriors were burning a trail directly towards them. Good. The defenders had built a barricade inside the city - wonderful. The transport picked up speed, nearing its top speed as it blasted through the defending line into the city itself.

He disembarked from his transport alongside a throng of his Death Watch comrades, who fanned out to form a battle line themselves. They had done it - penetrated into the front. From a distance, he spotted the gaggle of Jedi defenders within the city square. He approached wordlessly, Galaar in hand. Starros wanted a fight?

Fenyang would make him fight for his life. The Death Watch vanguard began to charge forward, as his followers opened fire into the defenders on the outskirts of the square. He scanned - Starros had not come to the front himself, it seemed. In his stead, he supposed one of the Jedi would do. He spotted a white lightsaber in the distance. Good. That would be his. From his Galeer-15, he fired two shots in the direction of the white-bladed Jedi. It was up to the aerial assault troopers, now, to met him at the battle line.

@Tom

 

[Arthos Vizsla]

Mand'alor and his vanguard were coming in hot so how could they do anything else but the same? With his vod coming in hot surrounding him, Arthos pulled back on the throttle as it were with his jetpack, his pistol drawn in his right hand. Coming up on the battle-lines of the Jedi, he would fire a single shot towards the chest of a Sector Ranger standing alongside the Jedi.

As the bolt would fly towards the Weequay, Arthos would come in for a landing. The bolt probably wouldn't actually land well from the distance of almost 40 meters but it would work as a distraction, suppression, while he landed. Boots now firmly on the ground, he would advance upon the Ranger with his blaster still firmly raised in his direction.

Firing another shot towards his opponent's chest from closer to 30 meters, Arthos' left hand would hover between his chest and the blade sheathed at his waist. If it came down to it, he was more than happy to throw down in close quarters with the Weequay. He had almost a full foot of height on the alien Ranger - he had the reach.

He'd never wrestled a Weequay to the death (or anyone species aside from droid actually) but he figured reach could come in handy in such a fight.

@Howie Boy

 

[Raya Kryze]

Rayyan could practically hear his own heartbeat thumping in his chest as he cut a path through the skies of Lothal, adrenaline coursing through his veins. Amidst the metal swarm of Mandalorian warriors, their battlechant’s boomed and echoed across the horizon - and it served to banish any doubts or reservations that the Kryze might’ve had before.

As Rayyan closed in on the city square, his eyes were immediately drawn to assembled defenders - picking out a number of Jedi amongst them. The Kryze pulled back on the thrusters of his jetpack to slow himself slightly as they neared the front lines, rapidly flicking his eyes between each potential opponent before eventually settling onto Gabriel and fixating.

As he continued his aerial approach, Rayyan pointed his blaster pistol towards the Padawan - firing a single bolt of yellow plasma towards his center mass from roughly 30 meters. As soon as the trigger was pulled and the bolt zipped through the air, Rayyan angled his body towards the ground and came in for a landing - the thrusters of his jetpack cutting off the moment his boots touched the ground, bending at the knees slightly.

As soon as he was on the ground, Rayyan began to advance towards the Padawan he had fired upon before - rapidly closing the distance to roughly 20 meters with both pistols pointed forward. Another bolt of plasma was fired from his blaster at closer range, aimed for Gabriel’s stomach.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Gett'se Vizsla]

Following the rallying call of the Solus warrior, Gett'se nothing other than pleased to activate his jetpack and put as much distance between himself and the new Mand'alor as possible. His heart heavy but growing lighter as he flew, Gett'se knew now was the time, now was the moment for action. Not the time for the weakness of empathy or the crushing weight of despair. Surrounded by his brothers and sisters in formation, there was almost even a flutter of joy and pride as Mandalorian battle cries rang through the air.

"Oya! Oya Mandalore!" His own shouting joined the chorus as the formation roared towards the square. Despite the guilt. Despite the sorrow. There was pride. Only in his most vivid dreams had the Mandalorian dared hope he may one day march into battle alongside his brethren after so many years alone, scratching and clawing a meager existence. To fight and to die and join his brothers and sisters in the Manda. Today, tommorow, or whenever that moment came he would be ready. He would face his death head on, a weapon in hand, fighting the enemies of Mandalore to his very last breath.

The time for sentimentality had passed as the square came into view. Soldiers filled the square, but Gett'se was a hunter and they were not his quarry. A flash of Jedi robes drew his attention as he flew and Gett'se did not hesitate, until he viewed a youthful face (@Mr. Teatime ) through the scope of his rifle. After a moments hesitation, his thumb flicked the blaster rifle to stun as he slowed his approach. At 40 meters he pulled the trigger. Once. Twice. Two flickering blue stun bolts streaked across the battlefield towards the young Jedi, aimed at his chest, coming in as his fellow Kryze also fired at the jedi. Dropping rapidly in altitude after firing, Gett'se's jetpack flared as he came to a stop, feet once more on the ground, rifle still aimed at the young Jedi who stood around 35 meters in front of him.

 

[Nox Solus]

Within the span of a few moments, the once peaceful capital of Lothal-City would be harshly transformed into a frenzied and bloodied battlefield. With the Mand'alor at the lead of the charge on the ground and the Clans assaulting from the sky, each level of the city committed to the battle by the nature of it. Fights and skirmishes would take place on the roofs and streets, the main battle lines crashing in the square as cries from each side merged into a cacophony of screams, grunts, and groans of pain.

As his fellow Mandalorians descended into the chaos, each of them seeking their target through the clash, Nox would remain above for a moment with the fellow Solus as his gaze went to the southern end of the square. His attention had been caught by the green blade that stood out like a beacon and easily split through the crowd. More importantly, the Nox was able to see exactly where the Jedi was angling toward, a nearby makeshift armory that had been set up for the defensive line.

With a quick glance to the Solus in his formation, he gave them a nod as his voice went through the comm's of only his clan, "Give nothing." The claws of the Badgers would be rediscovered tonight. In unison, the formation of Badgers would turn and aim straight towards the armory as they swarmed it to intercept any opposition attempting to claim it. Within a matter of moments, the crimson wing would descend onto the building, Solus warriors screaming with fury as they assaulted the guards with steel and blasters, attempting to form a perimeter around it and prevent any access.

Instead of flying at the armory, Nox would break off and tilt towards the Jedi Knight (@SlagathorTheUnknown ) as he lowered himself to the ground more but still remained in the air with speed. When the distance between the two was about 25 meters, the Mandalorian would aim his right hand smoothly at the Jedi before firing his wrist-rocket with a quick button press. The missile was aimed at the ground, specifically near the Jedi's feet to make it difficult to deflect, and with it being propelled, would close the distance quickly and provide a short reaction window. If the rocket struck true, the blast would most likely cripple both of the Jedi's legs. If he managed to avoid the worst of it, it was more possible for the blast to knock the Jedi back and off course from his goal.

whatever the result, Nox would fly onward toward the Jedi, his beskad in his right hand as he readied himself for any attacks. There would still be enough space between himself and the Mirulakan, despite it closing, that he would be able to react to a counter with the help of his jetpack.

@Mr. Teatime @Howie Boy @Tom @Nor'baal

 

[Zerath Eblon]

The impressive, barricade-busting approach by the transport threw chaos into the initial defending line, with dozens hurt or killed by the unorthodox use of the ship. The (NPC) invaders would find, however, that their effective but narrow penetration of the first barricade would place them in the unenviable position of being surrounded with (NPC) defenders surrounding them, and pitched firefights quickly broke out. "May the Force be with you" the Jedi Knight would say in response to the Padawan (@Mr. Teatime ), before the latter got too far away.

~~~

“Watch those wrist rockets!” Zerath reminded nearby defenders as the aerial assault commenced, his Force Sight piercing through the haze of the city square-turned-battlefield. Mandalorians loved enhancing their armor with deadly gizmos and gadgets, and Zerath quickly picked out a warrior banking towards him. As if on cue, a Mandalorian (@Orbit) banked towards him and raised their arm to aim, their other hand moving to press a button; a wrist rocket, if Zerath had to guess.

Good thing he'd been waiting for a Mandalorian to make an attack run. At the same time the Mandalorian aimed their rocket, Zerath was also aiming his left hand. A short burst of green lightning- Electrokinesis- leapt from his fingers and streaked through the air towards his attacker, encountering the wrist rocket about halfway between the combatants and detonating it with an impressive explosion. But where the rocket stopped, the lightning would continue- and in its ongoing path was the Mandalorian who just so happened to be wearing metal armor. There was no malice behind this application of the Force, simply a desire to subdue the attackers who had shown themselves willing to kill innocents. Such a burst wouldn't be enough to incapacitate the Mandalorian, but it would hurt and might even mess with the sensitive electronics controlling their complex armor functions.

 

[Laeonas Tannaras]

​

The Jedi stood, saber humming as the sounds of battle began to approach. The roaring of engines, the firing of jetpacks. The battle cry of the enemy, a yell coherent enough to distinguish itself from a blind scream, but distinct enough to belong to men rather than beasts. He could see the first few flying overhead, descending upon the small small group. His eyes darted behind him, watching as a few Mandalorians descended on the Weequay and a blindfolded Jedi he'd ran out with. The man would turn, immediately shifting into a position as he'd lunge back, intent on carving through the two that had landed.

That was when a blaster shot whizzed just past his forehead. Pivoting, he had barely an instant to change his lightsaber's angle, but the bolt that would've otherwise burned right through his neck was batted into the ground. Laeonas' eyes widened, before darting in the direction that the shots had been fired from. His eyes would settle on a smoking blaster carbine, sitting in the hands of a mandalorian (@Fine Dining Set )standing at the edge of the square. The Jedi regarded him for an instant, regarded the surroundings-- the tree, the stalls, the carts, the buildings. All of it fell into place before him.

Than, he rolled.

The man's blade would flick off as he shifted to his side, rolling to the left before he sprang up, the white blade humming back to life as the man's free arm shot out. At his new angle, directly in front of him would be a cart of assorted goods, which upon being gripped by the force would be flung to it's left-- right at the Mandalorian. It would've taken several seconds of concentration to grab the cart and it's contents, seconds that Laeonas didn't intend to waste. Only the cart's contents-- half a dozen crates of fruit-- would be grabbed, violently tossed out over a wide area. Every movement the man had taken so far was taken as quickly as it could be, the force enhancing his speed and reflexes beyond the capabilities of a normal sentient.

The crates would fly, but even still, Laeonas was of no illusion that the attack would bring the mandalorian down. It was little more than a distraction as Laeonas lunged forward, feet carrying him towards the man. The lightsaber would be kept forward as he advanced, prepared to bat away any blaster bolts that could come flying his way. Should he not be stopped, the man wouldn't hesitate in trying to lop the Mandalorian's head clean off.

Laeonas Tannaras knew violence, and until today, he had never known war.

Today would decide if he was just as good at it as he was the rest.

 

[Bak-Ru Shooska]

Bak-Ru stood with the Jedi, blaster pistol in one hand, stun baton in the other. The ornate marble tiles that surrounded the fountain in the city square were ironically beautiful. A shining symbol of what the species of this Galaxy could create when they came together. Now, only to be tarnished with blood as they brought war upon each other. The young Weequay would breath deeply as the panic threatened to overwhelm him. Horrible sounds of battle would fill his ears as the Mandalorians descended from the sky. Screams, explosions, cries for help. His hands began to shake. Bak-Ru was just a teenager. Almost a boy still, but as the blaster bolt screamed past his head he would be catapulted into manhood.

The leathery skin on his hands would tighten around weapons as he found his grip again. Dark brown eyes would lock on the Mandalorian that had fired on him just in time to see the flash of the barrel erupt again. Bak-Ru turned to his side, but his reflexes weren't fast enough. The bolt hit the exposed flesh of his shoulder. Although the Weequay people's skin could resist blasters to a degree it still burned and split his flesh. A scream of pain would escape his lips, but it only served to focus Bak-Ru's mind. In a mad dash he would sprint forward, directly at his enemy. As he ran he would fire two shots from his blaster at the approaching Mandalorian. Wildly inaccurate, but hopefully enough to buy him enough time to close some of the distance. Bak-Ru knew he would never outgun his opponent, but if he could force hand to hand combat the Weequay just might stand a chance.

@Nefieslab

 

[Cal Starros]

Starros wasted little time in getting to the 'agreed' position for the challenge, moving swiftly down to the city square, the sounds of incoming jet-pack born Mandalorians clear to hear. He was not a fool, not a headstrong youngster keen to wet his blade in combat for the first time - and so he held back as he heard that the Mandalor was on the approach.

There was no need to run directly into the fray.

Arriving downstairs, he headed for the hallway, and made progress to the square.