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Divergence; Imperial Confederation Invasion of Kiros

- - - - - CIC Imperial Confederation Imperial Confederated Systems Core Imperial Confederation Clans of Mandalore UCM Kiros

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Tanomas Graf

Tanomas Graf

    ᴇɪsᴇʀɴᴇʀ ᴋᴀɴᴢʟᴇʀ

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It was always the same, and now all this.


The bloodlust that had encapsulated the high chancellor was far from over. They had tried to kill his daughter, the only person worth a damn in his pitiful excuse of an existence, the anchor of his mortal coil. They had attacked his very being, and now they would lose everything. He was not ready to stop at Bogden and Obroa-skai, and his officers all knew this - they themselves seeing the war as a prime opportunity to distinguish themselves from their peers.


It went off without a hitch, starting with a fake sensor trip near Myrkr, outlining a massive fleet of Imperial warships; then, a hyperspace beacon conveniently placed by the Umbaran cartel on Kiros; and finally, a captain of a Venator crazy enough to disengage hyperspace right above the atmosphere.


Was it insane? Absolutely; after all, warfare was about doing what your enemy would least expect. The shields were likely to protect the star destroyer in the event of ships being scrambled to intercept it before it made landfall, but even in the event that that happened, it would still be able to let off a swarm of landing craft to act as a vanguard. Captain Varn Kurn of His Majesty's 9th Iron Gladius Fleet was prepared to make any and all sacrifices to ensure his passengers made it to the surface, he was nothing if not dedicated.


Before the engagement would begin, he broadcasted a message over a planet-wide frequency: "Inhabitants of the Kiros colony, this planet has been designated for invasion by the Core Imperial Confederation. Non-combatants have one hour to evacuate and find suitable shelter before combat operations are to target the city itself; those who stay behind or otherwise inhibit our forces will be declared combatants and dealt with under Executive Order #2173. To ensure quality, this conflict will be monitored for training purposes. Thank you."


Even professionals had standards.



  1. Apocalypse - A barrage of defoliants will be fired upon the surface to generate a proper landing zone for Captain Kurn's star destroyer, followed by Banshee carrier-gunships being deployed to secure the area so the vessel can set down and begin deployment of the army within its hull.
  2. Shock & Awe - Covering the Wyvern's descent will be a squadron of warships coming out of hyperspace shortly to deal with the space station in orbit of the planet. The station can either be vaporized or boarded.
  3. Bring Your Own Objective



Khonsu Amon

Khonsu Amon

    =] IMPETU ☼ SOLIS [=

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Location: Expansion Region; Ehosiq Sector; Kiros System; Kiros - High Orbit.

Objective: Draw out the Mandalorian Garrison; Slaughter them all.

Allies: The Golden Company, The Core Imperial Federation.

Enemies: The United Clans of Mandalore.

Equipment: See Signature.

Ground Force Complement: 43rd Legion "The Argonauts" with Dedicated, Mechanized Support.




Bathed in the false-firelight of his visor, the Supreme Sun Guardian found himself running an oiled cloth along the length of the plasmatic vibrosword betwixt his gauntleted fingers. It wasn’t the sword gifted to him by his secretive master, for that blade had outlived its usefulness and rested atop a mantle within his armoury. The man was unlikely ever to wield that blade again, especially after it’s hidden secrets were divined. His Sith master was cunning, but sadly not as cunning as he believed himself to be. Thus, the Sun Guard elected to wield the blade of his Legions. Something that wasn’t gifted to him, nor held the intention of corrupting what was left of his soul through an insatiable lust for blood and power. 
The sweeping edge of the Thyrsian-forged steel was lifeless but glimmered with lethal potential as the despoiled rag danced across the weapon’s metallic flesh. Khonsu couldn’t help but smile as he recalled all of the faces of the slain that were felled by this magnificent blade. Hundreds of souls - Human and Alien alike - flashed before his very eyes. Each of them cried out in agony or cursed the Thyrsian Warrior as he spilled their life’s essence onto the ground. Many populated the stars who would be perturbed by such recollections. Those souls would be considered as sound of mind and body, for taking life solely for the thrill of it was considered an aberration of the natural order.
However, to the Master of the Sun Guard? Those flashes of the past were merely amusing memories of how he struggled against worthy foes and proved himself to be superior. He wouldn’t forget them, as others would because they were apart of him now. Through his actions of cutting them down where they stood, they forged the very foundations of his strength and would push the man towards the ever-unattainable goal of perfection. Their deaths would pave his path of personal glory, and that was what brought a smile to the man’s lips. If they could hear his gratitude, should he give it voice, then the Sun Guard would’ve thanked them for their sacrifice. They, quite literally, made him into the man he is today.
When the blade shimmered with cleanliness and care, the Supreme Sun Guardian roused himself from the arming crate he utilized as his seat and slid the oiled weapon back into its sheath. The timing was almost impeccable, for as soon as the blade clicked into place, warning klaxons began to erupt throughout the cavernous dorsal hangar bay. 
It seemed that the time had come once again; to add more and more faces to his ever-growing tally. This time, unlike the Battle of Bogden, Khonsu himself would take to the battlefield. He had grown restless in that one-sided orbital skirmish and wished to see the faces of his foes before they died. Remembering ships as their internal systems ignited was one thing, but it lacked the emotional resonance that occurred when he watched the life fade from someone’s eyes. Thus, he needed to get into the thick of it; whatever dregs that the Mandalorians could muster would suffice. If none were found? Well, the Thyrsian Warlord would put the planet to the sword simply out of sheer spite.
Once it’s populace and myriad settlements were burning, the man would possibly garner the attention of the Scions of Mandalore. Maybe then, they would sally forth from their crumbling fortresses; seeking to defy the cards Fate had dealt. Or, perhaps, their Ancestors and the Dead would wake from their restful slumber and take to the stars - seeking to teach their descendants how it was done. Regardless of what eventuality came to pass, all that mattered to Khonsu was that there would be a fight; be it one-sided yet again, or a conflict worthy of remembrance.
To that glorious end, be it in triumph or perceived failure, the Supreme Sun Guardian ordered his aureate warships to return to Thyrsus. He wouldn’t need their martial might for this battle, and their newly reconquered homeworld required the manpower to restore that world to its former glory. Instead, the Thyrsian Warlord drew the strength of a single Legion of his gilded kindred to his banner. They would be his Argonauts. His band of heroes that would venture forth into the darkness of the void, and seek to carry out their people’s vengeance against a most-hated foe. There was no other loftier goal to strive for. The Mandalorians insulted his people and left the corpses of the innocent and enslaved to rot in the streets as they made nice with the people that enslaved them. 
So, it was only fair that such a travesty was returned in kind.


Signature made by Bambi 

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Cynthia Alucard

Cynthia Alucard

    Sin's Child

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Cynthia Alucard, Pixie Wing Commander
Location: Hanger Bay of The Tuatha De Danann
Starcraft: TIE/IN Mark IV Interceptor (Wing Compliment of Seventy-Two) The Tuatha De Danann (HQ- Located far Edge of Kiros Space)
Attire: Flight Suit


Engaging: Herself

Another battle, another mission. 
Cyn drummed her fingers on her forearm as she held them crossed over her chest, her silent brooding though had not gone unnoticed. Her Second in Command stood rather unenthusiastic of his current position, especially as the only other Officer lower in rank than his Commander he would take the brunt of Pixie Wing Commander Alucard’s slightly cantankerous remarks of their current situation and with how unfair or unjust the Galaxy was being to them all. 
Truthfully he never understood how much anger his short in stature commander could contain within her person. But she’ll calm when she gets inside her TIE Interceptor. The man turned his attention to his Commander and wondered if he should suggest they head to the Hanger a tad earlier than expected. He couldn’t simply let his Commander brood for more than just minutes at a time, else other ears than his own might catch a whiff of dissatisfaction from Alucard. 
“Perhaps it is time we head down to the Hanger Commander,” He offered, his hand gesturing to the turbo-lift down the hall from them, Cyn for her own part slowly arched her head and raised an eyebrow at her Second. 
“Go. I’ll be there in a bit. . .” Cyn ordered, her tongue clicked against the roof of her mouth and she returned her focus against the viewport. The many stars and eerie darkness of space that surrounded them all, and the largest celestial body was the planet of Kiros. 
The Second paused, his eyes filled with uncertainty with leaving his Commander to brood alone, but he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to escape the dark clouds that seemed to permanently hang over her head. “-As you wish Commander, see you at the Hanger.” 
Cyn listened to the footsteps of her second before the Turbo-lift doors hissed open and then closed to take him down to the rest of the Wing waiting for them in the Hanger. Her fingers continued to drum along a rhythm that resembled not of any beat of any song but from her increasingly growing heart-rate. 
The hanger of their Star Destroyer was massive, and holding so many Imperial TIE craft always gave the pilots within an edge of calm and assurance. When the might of the Core was on open display for even those fighting within the War Machine proper, it was after all good for moral. Cyn quickened her pace over to the rest of her pilots, all stood at attention with her Second in lead and all brimming with an eagerness that even Cyn admired greatly. 
Her own darkening cloud, it would emerge as a storm, and with her Pilots they would strike at her enemies as lighting. “-We are tasked once more to remove the Core’s enemies from this existence and should it be necessary and you give the ultimate sacrifice today, you are duty bound to continue fighting the enemies we send to the after-life as well.” Cyn had her smile drag along her face as a knife and carve a devilish and wicked smile.  




    Eliminate Enemy Runtimes

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The droid was being delivered to the CIC as it had in the previous missions against the Mandalorian Empire. What the droid was used for was really up to the CIC, but the CIS was sending the unit, fully repaired, and teamed with another dozen HYDRA war droids for the Prime to be able to network into. The droid had a specific set of programs but they worked best on the frontal assault, shock trooper passage. The team of bots was delivered and were being kept aboard the Wyvern.


With the battle ahead, and defoliants were planning to be fired, and as a result, sending droids to the planet was a decision to be made. Prime’s programming was updated, providing the CIC and CIS as friendlies, with droids earning priority. But anything that was scanned to include beskar became a foe. What the droid was going to be handling?


Murder. Mayhem.


OBJECTIVE: Seek and Destroy Mandalorian Run Times, Link up with Golden Company.




Adenn Kyramud

Adenn Kyramud

    Buy'ce olar, kar'ta ogir

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Location: Kiros homestead bunker
Gear: Under "Things always with Adenn" in BIO and armor in sig

Tags: Mig Gred, Valdus Bral, Taru Cadera, Azure Djitred, Nicair Claden

Links: VinesWasps



Kiros, it was a planet that belonged to around 50k Togrutas and was under the protection of the UCM against slavers and the like. They had gladly accepted Mandalorian protection, after all it meant they'd be free, unlike under some other regimes. Adenn wasn't here to protect the Togrutas though, nor was he here for war. He was here to enjoy himself and grow closer to those he called his vode. Deep below the surface, in a bunker at least 15km away from where the CIC would be landing, Adenn was playing a board game.


Adenn wasn't a man prone to games, nor really relaxing in general, but he made an exception today. The people in this little bunker of theirs were many and varied, there were people from his clan, people from other clans, ones he knew and others he didn't. Currently he sat at a rather large table, a miniature of himself sat on the table before himself, and beyond that a board that showed a play area. They were playing a game called "Dungeons and Mythosaurs", though Adenn had yet to see either. Then again, they'd only recently started and hadn't gone anywhere yet. The game had been made by one Nicair Claden, someone Adenn only knew in passing. However, if this little game became a success, then everyone would know Nicair by the end of it all. Grinning to himself, Adenn motioned for someone to go. He still didn't fully know how to play the game after all.



The signal from Graf went out across the city/planet and the Togrutans heard it. They had no real Mandalorians on the planet to protect them for now, only some call centers to call for help. When they heard the call from the CIC, they merely sighed and prepared themselves. The majority of the populations of these cities vacated their cities, heading towards pre planned shelters meant for similar occasions. Silently they hoped that these CIC people would leave, as not many Mandalorians were on the planet. Said Mandos had also heard the call, but if there was no defense and no resistance, what would the CIC do, slaughter innocents? It seemed unlikely, so the Mandos made themselves scarce and simply observed any CIC movements on the planet.


The planet itself was displeased with the CIC, or more specifically the vines and wasps were displeased, along with some other deadly animals. Their bombardment merely stirred the hornets nest and the natural wildlife around the landing zone would snap and bite at anything that moved into the tree line. These vines and wasps, they were everywhere like a plague, but a good one. The planet would fight back, even if the inhabitants wouldn't as much. With the natural animals riled up, the forests became death traps and no one who moved through them would be safe, not even the locals. Thankfully they had their bunkers close to their cities, while the Mandalorians had their armor and weapons to protect themselves, or they were in the bunker with Adenn and co.


Not much changed after the arrival of the CIC, but people were warned and prepared. Adenn and those in the bunker were cut away from communication, but a few members of the guards learned through the grapevine about the CIC. They slowly made their way towards the group playing the board game, but were still some ways away. Aside from the guards, the bunker itself secured itself, a triple blast shield door lowered into place, turrets inside were awakened, natural cover went over and completely covered the bunker. Not only that, but the wild life around the bunker were aroused because of the distant CIC bombardment. All in all, this bunker was very secure, though so were all the other bunkers for the Togruta. They had similar levels of security, all to protect them.

Valdus Bral

Valdus Bral

    Clan Bral Alor | Muscle Craftsman

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Location: Kiros Bunker

Allies: Mig Gred , Adenn Kyramud , Taru Cadera , Azure Djitred , Nicair Claden





Seated upon a great durasteel chair, flanked by two of his clansmen, and with arms crossed over his broad metal breastplate the Alor of clan Bral looked down towards the table. Upon the table rested a large board with several miniatures, one miniature was that of Valdus Bral himself. However, there were some liberties taken with the posing. His miniature likeness was dramatically posed in an imperious fashion upon a much more ornate throne than the one he sat upon. Among all the miniature one of the more distinguished features was that of a large bestial one that looked much like a massive Hoth Snow Bear - this represented Valdus’ beast companion and patriarch of the Orar’uram: Cin’cerar.


Valdus’ head turned and his eyes wandered over the others present, the golden accents on his armor glinting in the moderately lit bunker. Perhaps the lights were dimmed for atmosphere, he had no idea, but it must’ve made him look dramatic and that’s all that mattered. “My battlefield expertise is expansive and my victories innumerable, but I have never come across such a game as this. This page alone-" nodding towards a packet of papers with numerous boxes and lines, “ -was akin to unraveling the secrets to hyperspace travel from scratch.” His tone was as gruff as always but it was warmer, this was Valdus making a joke.

It was then that the left flanking clansmen spoke silently into his helmet commlink to Valdus. "Kiros is being prepared to be assaulted, Alor. What’re your orders?


Valdus continued to look towards the board on the table as he communicated in kind, “ Let the Torgruta defend themselves, I grow weary of throwing away the lives of Vod for the insufferable and ungrateful masses of this forsaken sector. Today I engage in a task worthy of my prowess….this simulation called Mythosaurs and Bunkers.


He then ended the transmission and rerouted his voice to his output speaker on the front of his helmet, “ What quest are we to embark on? A crusade? Perhaps a war for the purification of heretical philosophy?” 




Edited by Valdus Bral, 06 August 2019 - 11:16 PM.



Lannik Hayes

Lannik Hayes

    ѕυp-p-per тroop-p-per

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Lieutenant Lannik Hayes, Imperial Stormtrooper Corps

Equipment: Primary: Armour, Vishnu Military Shield, Cambiador Blaster Rifle, Lava Cannon, 3x Fragmentation Grenades, 4x Adhesive Grenades, 3x Bacta Bomb | Secondary: Dissuader KD-30 (with Xenoboric Slugs), AKraB Vibrodagger | Others: A platoon of stormtroopers (24 troopers, including PC) escorted by an Equaliser Tank

Location: Hangar Bay, Onboard the Wyvern, Kiros
Objective: Draw out the Mandalorians. Search & destroy

Allies: The Core Imperial Confederation, The Golden Company, The Confederacy of Independent Systems

Enemies: The United Clans of Mandalore & Allies




In the sea of scarred bone white, he stood quietly attentive at the front line of his platoon, right in the middle of the first row with his 2IC on his right, flanked by two other of his men. And while he remained calm and primed, his armoured frame the very model of perfection when it came to military sharp, Lieutenant Lannik Hayes wore his new rank with ill grace.


For it has barely even been a week since Kuat.


A week of what, Lannik?


A week since he felt helpless and small as he watched his men burning amongst the sea of flames.


A week since he found himself unable to bring himself to put them out of their misery with a bolt through their heads even as they howled for release, their screams shrill and desperate until they were consumed.


It was seared into his memory.


Hah! Get it?! Seared.


Extra crispy even.


Even in the privacy of his mind, the pun fell flatter than a batch of Bespin cloud souffles whose oven doors were opened on them a moment too soon. Though the brunette was usually all up for a bout of gallows humour… but it lost its allure when all he wanted to do was to dry heave whenever he even thought of it. And Lannik did think about it often, his treacherous memory throwing him flashes and glimpses at the most inopportune of times.


Like kriffing NOW.


Just when the klaxons were beginning to blare.


With his gauntleted fingers curling tightly around the rifle, the brunet indulged in a deep breath to calm himself. Despite his newfound distress, the ARC-certified trooper did not allow it to affect his demeanour, for more than a third of the men in his platoon were untried. And now that he was in an unwanted and unenvied position of leadership, Lannik needed them to have faith in him… and his decisions… if he were to bring them home alive.


Oh Maker, what was CentComm thinking when they made the decision to promote my sorry arse?!


So even while the images of melting flesh and muscles being licked by the unforgiving flames played and their screams echoed through his mind and he struggled to hold himself together, his vitals continued to stay within an acceptable reading. Any spikes can easily be waved away as pre-battle jitters or adrenaline.


In. One.


Out. Two.


In. Three.


Out. Four.


Please don’t let them die.


Unknown to Lannik, they were about to encounter the many unpleasant denizens that Kiros had to offer…


Final checks, ducklings. Get ready to head out.




Tanomas Graf | Cynthia Alucard | Khonsu Amon | Prime


Adenn Kyramud | Valdus Bral



Azure Djitred

Azure Djitred

    Turjilyi'r be Vanquo, Lost Lsu

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Objective: Have... fun?

Allies: UCM

Enemies: CIC+friends

Tags: Adenn Kyramud Valdus Bral Mig Gred Nicair Claden


It had not been long since Azure had left the planet Azure with Lailya, and she watched the child run around the bunker greeting the other Mandalorians. She had the most... unorthodox greeting a four year old could have. The Clan Mortui members seemed amused by it though.... Azure couldn't tell if that was a good thing, or a bad thing. Wait, did that one offer to give her a lightsaber? Oh goodness...


Lailya, unaware of Azure's growing concerns, ran up to a Clan Bral member she hadn't spoken to yet.


"Hi! My name's Lailya! Miss Azure adopted me after the Jetii attacked Azure and caused my Daddy's death! He's with Mommy now though!"


Azure smiled nervously, watching the little four year old interact with all the, quite frankly, comparatively ginormous men in the bunker. She prayed all of them were watching their feet, before turning her eyes to the board. Her figure was honestly the plainest of the bunch, all black and white, but truly modeled after her. The figure's dress even had the frayed edges, and the ribbons closing up the back. Even the blade at her waist was remarkably detailed, right down to the faint crane carving above the hilt. She was posed as though she were praying, or singing.


"I think there was something about a diplomat?" Azure looked down at the small holopad she was given, to keep track of her character's "stats" and items. What were these chance cubes for though?

Weapons: The Lsu Legacy Blade II Pets: Cuddles the Rancor II Equipment: Medicinal salves and drinks II Armor: Oyacyir Ta'hyapr


Reyn Australis

Reyn Australis

    Son of Manda'yaim

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Objective : 3 (Do Mandalorian things)

Allies : Azure Djitred Valdus Bral Adenn Kyramud 

Enemies : Lannik Hayes @Prime @Cynthia Alucard Khonsu Amon Tanomas Graf

Post : 1 
Location : Kiros - Landing




After Azure, it had been very difficult for Reyn to get out from under the observation of one or both of his parents. Following his Verd'goten, however, the lad was an adult in Mandalorian society, and they couldn't say a word. They did anyway, but Reyn was far more able to evade their attempts to waylay his adventures before they began. With both his parents busy elsewhere, securing passage to Kiros to join the fight had been simple enough. Several freighters had set out from Mandalore to deliver warriors to the fight, and encased in his armour, no one recognized the lad, which suited him just fine.

The Australis household allowed for a diligent and careful young adult to access all the military equipment he could ever desire. Preferring simplicity and bladed weapons to the technical circus his father preferred, or the overwhelming force his mother could bring to bear, his own style mimicked neither parent's, suited better to his own way than either of their paths.


Carrying several dozen commandos and a few hundred militia warriors, the group of freighters had exited hyperspace well clear of Kiros itself, and made a direct course for the soon to be besieged world. They were going to be the first wave, the eager volunteers, the first to sign on. The veterans knew what they were getting into. The others, they were in it for pay, or glory, or both. Reyn just wanted to forge his own path, and kill a few of the enemies of Mandalore. Soon enough, he'd get the chance. The enemy were coming, and they'd announced their intentions. It didn't get any clearer than that.


Simulators and training were all well and good, and Mandalorian training, especially the Verd'goten itself was no joke; but none of that was a substitute for combat experience. Reyn Australis's counter was about to tick up from zero, far from home, with no family or friends, no safety net, and no backup. His parents would have been incensed, had they known what he was up to. He hoped they would understand in time. They didn't have to like it. But this was his time now, he was an adult, and it was time he stood alone in the galaxy to see what he could make of it.


Reyn wasn't a young man given to nervousness or trepidation, but this was a special occasion. The very first calm before his first battle as a real warrior. Like his father before him, at times of great stress, he was grateful for the buy'ce and the anonymity it provided. The freighter rattled. He knew that meant atmosphere. Almost time now. The ship dropped through the sky, and left his stomach somewhere well above. Soon now. Very soon. Reyn huddled with the rest, awaiting the crunch of landing that couldn't come soon enough, and at the same time, promised to come all too soon.




Nicair Claden

Nicair Claden

    The Iron Heart

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Objective: Introduce Dungeons and Mythosaurs to the wider galaxy

Allies: UCM

Enemies: Anything with an AC over 15

Tags: Azure DjitredValdus BralAdenn Kyramud | Reyn Australis


He didn't often allow himself the luxury of fun. His still short reign as Qer'ak has already been rife with conflict. As of now there hadn't been another outright civil war, nothing more than large skirmishes and revolting cities. The Sociph weren't used to having a strong ruler, they would adjust, given time.


The concept for the game he had created came to him in a sort of fever dream. The entirety of his training in the force had been nothing but resisting mind reading, manipulation, and torture techniques by Antisoch's resident force users. There weren't many on the planet, the Sociph aren't often born with the abilities; as such the ones that are find use in psychological torture and manipulation of masses. Their abilities were quite honed as the Sociph had no small amount of resistance to mind altering mediums. To push forward enough concentrated willpower to inspire fear in an individual physiologically unable to experience the emotion is extreme.


It was during a particularly strenuous session that Claden hatched the idea, borrowing from different games that Sociph agents played with each other in order to better prepare themselves for operation in the outer galaxy. They would pick a persona; craft it, background and all; and assume it for an indeterminate amount of time until the mask they wore felt as real to them as their own identity. While strapped to the torture table he began playing the game with himself in his own head as he bordered on consciousness. Years of mental training using imagery, hypnosis, and meditation certainly aided in his ability to create and explore.


More than a few observing him, his brother in particular, viewed his discussions to himself as a sign of madness and mental shattering only to be disappointed upon his snap back to clarity on their entering the room. It took him back to times when he'd need to enter deep cover for infiltration and sabotage of larger crime syndicates during his vigilante days.


Nicair wasn't entirely sure how well this particular attempt would turn out, but it was a pleasant experience being able to relax more in an underground bunker than he'd been able to for close to a year. Such rest was earned after what happened on Azure.


His adoptive son, Kheir had also earned his own reprieve after having been cooped up on Antisoch since Nicair's half-rescue half-kidnapping of the Vong child. The Sociph weren't the most natural of parents, it was an unfortunate thing but abuse was common on their planet. Nicair's own childhood had largely been training and emotional detachment. Though he hadn't been raised on Antisoch, his own adoptive father was Mandalorian and raised him as such. He always saw a parallel to himself in Kheir. How different they both could have turned out if left to their birth relations.


The child would often grab hold of Nicair's split kama rather than hold his hand or finger. The Qer'ak was fine with this arrangement as it allowed him to keep his hands free and take advantage of a possible leash on his armor should he need to tie it around the Vong.


On walking into the small chamber for their session he could feel some of the tension lift. Was this time well spent for a Qer'ak and Alor? Probably not, but they all needed the break.


"Ah good, you're already looking things over."


He didn't have his helmet on, Kheir had it over his head, the edges almost coming over his shoulders, the neck protection reaching the small of the child's back. Claden's voice was tired, yet had an air of cheer about it. About as much as the Sociph was able to project.

"What have you become when even nightmares fear you?"


"Hullcracker"| Qer'ak Ironskin | "A'den"


Koda Fett

Koda Fett


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It was quiet. It was always quiet outside of the consistent, but low murmuring of the engine itself, occasionally accompanied by the sounds that stemmed from the control panels themselves - electronic alerts that came in one second and then disappeared in the next. And everything looked awfully bleak in the interior; shades of the same neutral grey that were only disturbed by the sections in which the paint had been torn away for one reason or another... It might've been a scratch, a scuff, or even a scorch. It'd seen its fair share of unsatisfied visitors, be sure of that.


"It doesn't make much sense to me." It was spoken in a half-assed manner, both mumbled and slurred as any word that could be shortened was. "You can't take seventy-five percent of the payment; it's a two person task, split fifty-fifty." He even sounded a little exasperated, as if they were being treated unfairly.


The T-Visor had turned towards the figure beside him, looking upwards from their seated position as the red tinted holographic display shone cast it's colour lightly over the armour - his brow lofted beneath. "I can." He merely replied before averting his gaze back through the cockpit that had shown the planet directly ahead, zooming towards it. "And I will."


It was met with a scoff, but that was expected. Olan looked offended now, even through their heavily scarred features. "You're serious?" It came after a few tense seconds of silence, but they still continued after receiving nothing other than an unimpressed shrug of the shoulders - or something that resembled as much after being buried beneath the thick Mandalorian armour. "You're really going to take that much, and expect nothing to come of it?"


Fett sighed, then. "Yes." It was short and without much thought involved.


"You care to explain the logic behind that?" Olan retorted, leaning inwards as if it was going to change anything. "You've lost all realisation of what it means to be a 'team'. It isn't exactly fair."


"No, it's not." The Bounty Hunter replied. His tone was unwavering, cold. "Reputation, Olan."


And then they lofted a brow. "Go on?"


"I am known. You are not." Koda said, continuing to look ahead.


"Pffft." Olan spat back, both rolling their eyes and rearing backwards in their own amusement as an evidently irritated grin stretched across their features. "If I wasn't known, then how am I here?"


"I let you be." The Mandalorian claimed. "You'd be back with Gorba if not for me."


"And you let me be here because I can do the job, because I have that reputation. I am known." Olan sounded rather satisfied with themselves just then.


"Not to the same degree. You're not among the highest on the leaderboard."


"You hit that head of yours? There's no lea-"


"It's a metaphor."


"Metaphor for what?"


Fett groaned, "Forget it."

Edited by Koda Fett, 07 August 2019 - 11:46 AM.


Scherezade deWinter

Scherezade deWinter

    The Blood Hound

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Objective: The Wyvern, waiting deployment

Commanding: Seven (7) Battalions of B1's

Wearing: Armor | Pathfinder Boots | The Forgemaster's Ring | Ring of Stasis | Sofitor
Wielding: 8 Nozhi Blades | 2 Czerka knives | 2 Nastirci Combat Knives  | Copero's Wail | Fire and Smoke (lightsabers) | Combat Gauntlets | Knight Obsidian Sword | 2 TOTT-001 Arc Light Blaster | 2 Dissuader K-30 Pistols with Glitter Bullets

Allies: CIC & Friends | Prime Lannik Hayes Koda Fett

Enemies: UCM

Post: One


It was another war. Again, forces gathered to come together and attack the United Clans of Mandalore. While her own mission on Obroa-skai had been a partial success, that war was eventually won. The Mandalorians were cast back another step. Today, joining the Core's Confederation, Scherezade was prepared to help them push those who followed Mandalore the Chicken yet another step backwards. Just as she had fought for the Confederacy itself, just as she had fought alongside the Silvers in a battle that had taken her longer than she cared to admit for in order to heal from the wounds inflicted by that damned Australis.


But by the Force, was she tired now. Her body, she knew, would sing once the actual combat started. Her blood could not remain silent in the face of a fight, and fight she will, with all the passion and power that came with it when it was her doing. But in these minutes before… She no longer knew what she wanted.


Things were supposed to have been better this time around. She had her new job with the Ministry of Secrets, she had her sister, she even had a few friends. And still there was an emptiness inside her stomach that she could not fill. Not with blood, not with death, not with working herself almost to death, not with taking time off. She operated, it often felt, on automatic mode. Come in, do the job, go home. Before getting home, go do another job. It kept her busy. It kept the bad thoughts from forming. It kept her from that piece of fabric she still had, that shard of Darkness that she kept close to it, and from other things.


Lost. That was what it felt like.


Looking up, Scherezade inspected the droids that she could see, the ones who were closest up. They were all clean. They were all ready. They were all going to destroy Mandalorian equipment, and with seven battalions which came out at 3,500 droids, there was a chance that one of their shots would even hit an actual Mandalorian. Pride of the Confederacy and all of that.


But there would be no game of cards today, prior to launching. She simply did not have it in her.


Instead, she just leaned against a wall, arms folded across her chest, and waited. Soon enough, they'd be doing the drop pod thing. And then the fight would commence.





    Gun a Day, Keep the Devil at Bay

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D E A T H - T R O O P E R

DT-4747 "Glacier"

Equipment: Katarn Armour (Matte Black), Cambiador Rifle (Focusing Barrel), Slug Shotgun, Lava Cannon, 2x Thermal Detonators, 1x Plasma Grenade, 1x Cold Grenade

Other: Stormtrooper Platoon (24) | 2x AT-ST

Allies: Scherezade deWinter | Lannik Hayes | Koda Fett | Khonsu Amon | Prime

Enemies: UCM



A man covered head-to-toe in matte black armor sat atop of a box. An intricate black helm covered his head, self-made modifications givings it a deathly visage as that of a skull carved from the blackest of volcanic glass. Glacier's left hand reached towards the shoulder of his right arm, pulling free a metal bead necklace of some make and fashion. Dozens of scratches covered the beads, leading into the centerpiece of the necklace. A silver cross now sat within the man's hand, the beads which wove the cross together to act as a necklace falling through spread fingers and hanging loosely from the metal digits. DT-4746's blue eyes looked over the cross solemnly. He was no stormtrooper. He was no modified warrior meant. He wasn't any sort of Imperial dog meant to wreck havoc and let slip the dogs of war. He was none of that. For none of that, was his true divine purpose. Glacier was a warrior of god, a divine-sent holy crusader meant to bring the bright fury of the marble heavens from above.


The metal cross gleamed in the artificial light given off by the interior lights of the Venator, giving it an eerie blue glow, as though it were possessed. A gloved metal finger ran across the scratched surface of the shiny cross, wiping grime from a previous encounter away from the surface of the cross. It was clean, just like his spirit was. Just like it should be, clean, perfect...holy.


"Oh lord of the heavens above, grant onto me your strength this day in the crusade against the Mandalorian people I find myself in. Give unto me your strength and your wisdom to remain a saint of your religion. I ask of you, this holy request, ei'men."


Glacier held the cross tightly in both hands before looping the beaded necklace onto his shoulder again, magnetically locking it into place. The silver cross fell against the man's chest, adding light to his black color scheme. The Deathtrooper stood up slowly, grabbing the Cambiador rifle which he had laid against the box he had sat down upon.


Mig Gred

Mig Gred

    Alor of Clan Gred, Mando'ad'jetii

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  • 515 posts

Objective: Um......

Allies: UCM

Enemy: CIC and allies

Tags: @DT-4747 @Scherezade deWinter Koda Fett Nicair Claden Reyn Australis Azure Djitred Valdus Bral Lannik Hayes Adenn Kyramud Tanomas Graf


Mig was confused at this point. What the Osik was this game?! He had been looking at the rules for an hour now and was just confused. He looked up, glaring a bit at Nicair Claden when he noted people were already looking the game over. 


"Yeah.... Some of us are more confused than a Troig that can't agree with its other half." Mig had clearly started to get annoyed with this game already, but at least someone was having fun. He had brought Leddie, Ilik's Zabrak daughter. The young girl was only six, but she was full of life, that was for sure. She tilted her head curiously at Azure Djitred 's daughter, Lailya. What she said just sounded, weird, but the former slave walked up looking at her. 


"Hi. I'm Leddie."


"You can't ignore your emotions, but you also can't let them control you."

Isobel Mattis

Isobel Mattis

    Coruscant First

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  • 8 posts
Location: The Wyvern [Media Correspondent Quarters]
Allies: Core Imperial Confederation, The Confederacy, The Golden Company
Enemies: The United Clans of Mandalore
Objective: Chronicle the Battle for the Citizens of the Core


One hour.




The speech that played through a planet-wide frequency was short and to the point. She couldn’t find fault in it, however, she did feel that there was an element of something personal involved. Isobel once again found herself running media coverage for this excursion. She was less shaken this time. Perhaps it was experience. Perhaps, it was because she had not come alone. Her twin brother Grayson Mattis had insisted on following her through the void to this invasion. He was younger, by several minutes, but it only seemed to make him more protective.


Isobel wore a basic set of armor but Grayson seemed to be ready for war. Her small quarters on the Wyvern had felt even smaller still when they appeared from hyperspace. The move that she had previously been unaware of left her stomach churning. The battle plan seemed to be rather poignant. Arrive with a bang. Then—Make landfall.


With defoliators.


She had thoughtfully strapped herself in while waiting for things to settle. It was better than the alternative. A camera-droid buzzed about her head, recording every expression, every breath, every time her eyes closed when turbulence made it feel like crash-webbing was choking her over helping keep her alive. The High Chancellor [Tanomas Graf] had given leave for his mouth-piece to inform, or the imperial had taken it upon himself to warn, that the conflict would be monitored and recorded for training purposes.


It was good to know, though, her own recordings were more for the Citizens of the Core. Specifically, Coruscant.  


They all wanted to know what the Core Imperial Confederation was doing this far away from home. They people wanted to know their chances of loss, success, and the potential for retaliation. No one would ever forget when the Sith came to raze much of the Core to the ground. No one wanted that again. No one wanted to be the victim, to be punished, and burned at the stake for reasons unknown. The Clans of Mandalore had attacked. As much of a failure as it had been—An attack was an attack.


The CIC—If they valued the support of their people—Had no choice but to respond.


Bogden and Obroa-skai had been won. Now, Kiros? No one really knew the reasoning. Was it because the Core thought that the Clans hadn’t learned their lesson yet? Was it to keep them from the possibility of a counter attack? No one really seemed to know for certain but speculation was wild. The Omni Prime Group had come to shed light on the rumors. They intended to show the truth, the Strength of the Core, and perhaps—A warning to those that held notions of invading their sovereignty.


Nothing played better at home than the loss or success of dedicated and loyal soldiers. Nothing played better abroad than victory. She tapped her comm and paged her brother. “Are we there yet?”


Humor. It was all she could manage at the moment.


Just like before she had a point of contact. Theodore Royce-Clarke. He’d been kind enough not let her get shot in the head on Kuat. She could only hope that the gentlemanly consideration would remain.


Pumpkin Spice Equipment List



Edited by Isobel Mattis, 08 August 2019 - 01:40 PM.



Grayson Mattis

Grayson Mattis


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  • 4 posts
Location: The Wyvern [Media Correspondent Quarters]
Allies: Core Imperial Confederation, The Confederacy, The Golden Company
Enemies: The United Clans of Mandalore
Objective:  Keep Isobel from getting killed




Coruscant First. 


The two words were not simply a motto or a mantra, they were a way of life and a worldview for many. Anything and everything would be done for the sake of the long standing icon of the Core. The planet had suffered at the hands of many, and prospered under other as well. For Grayson Mattis, Coruscant First was about seeing the planet once again shine. Some might call him a zealot, a crusader for a cause that was long defeated, but as long as he drew breath and Coruscant existed, Grayson would always hope there was a future that would benefit the Coruscanti peoples.


His opinion of the Core Imperial Confederation was still largely unformed. They seemed to be beneficial so far, but was that only because they sought the expansion of their ideology and doctrine. Would a day come when their agenda and his would be put at odds? For Grayson the answer to any dilemma would be simple, Coruscant First. It was not just a motto or Mantra. It was a way of life.


Grayson was ready for war. The thought was an understatement as he was decked out in enough armor and weapons to seem like a small army in himself. Yet, where his twin sister, Isobel Mattis was concerned, there would never be enough. Was Grayson overprotective, likely, but for the longest time it had been them. When their parents were killed, Grayson became the man of the house, or so their caretaker kept telling them. That was why Grayson spent his share of their fortune on armor, weapons, and becoming a lethal killer. If Isobel was going to be put in harms way for the cause, then Grayson would be there to ensure she did not meet the same fate as their parents.


One hour. The clock was counting down to air time, and Grayson knew exactly where his sister would be. Once he had been outfitted in his armor, the young man walked down the corridor to the Media Correspondent’s Quarters. She insisted on looking good for the holorecorders despite the fact it was going to be a literal warzone, a warzone which seemed to have little to no action at the moment. The thought disappointed Grayson slightly as he wanted to shoot at least one bucket head between the t-visor.


Her page had prompted his walk, and rather than answer over the system, Grayson knocked on the door before walking in. “This isn’t some fundraising gala for Omni Prime, love. You don’t need to look fancy,” he said as he walked through the door of her room. “And yeah… we are close. Pretty sure you felt us drop out of hyperspace a bit ago. We are getting ready to board the drop ships and land.”


Were they headed to the front lines of the conflict, if the fighting wasn’t too intense. For now they would simply go wherever their contact sent them. Apparently Grayson owed this, Theodore Royce-Clarke. His sister was alive because of him, and well, that put Grayson in his debt. Even though his opinion of the CIC was not formed yet, Grayson at least would do his duty to his bond. There was only one thing which he would put above Coruscant First, and that was Family.


Family First. 


The two words were not simply a motto or a mantra, they were a way of life.


Edited by Grayson Mattis, 08 August 2019 - 05:13 AM.

Careena Fett

Careena Fett


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    • Character Bio
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C a r e e n a _ F e t t


Location | Aboard Captain Kurn's ship

Objective  Awaiting Deployment to Planet Surface / Show them how a true Fett warrior fights 

Allies | Ves Fett / CIC and Company

Enemies | UCM and those who aid the Pretender


Long has Careena yearned for this moment, a chance to strike at those who shamed and slaughtered her clan when the one she referred to as the Pretender took the title of Mand'alor, and subsequently made a mockery of both its history and the treaded upon the honor of all the clans that refused to bend their knee in submission to her. It was a moment of anticipation to say the least that she had been offered this opportunity to return her clan's wrath in full to those who believed the Pretender as worthy. But she would approach it like she would approach anything, with a cold and calculated manner, rather than blind rage. She would pick them apart where they were most vulnerable, with surgical precision and deadly force. She stood by brave warriors; her brothers and sisters in arms, rallied together once more under Clan Fett's banner


For the past few years since that bloody coronation, Careena had scoured the galaxy, rallying her scattered clan members, breaking bread withthose thought to be dead , stoking the dying embers in the hearts of her clan back to a raging inferno. Though they were not the largest of Mandalorian clans, they certainly were among the fiercest given their numbers.And they were ready, they yearned to reclaim their honor and glory in battle. They would not suffer another defeat at the hands of inferior warriors and even if they did, they refused to do so accepting it. They would defy the Pretender and those who stood with her to their dying breaths. Better to die on one's feet with dignity than on their knees with heads bowed in defeat; such was the way of a warrior, though Careena would see to it that for every Fett that fell in battle, a dozen of the enemy would fall with them. 


The alor of Clan Fett pushed herself off a crate she had been sitting on in the hangar of the Star Destroyer they were aboard, having spent the last hour or so taking apart her personal rifle, cleaning each individual piece and reassembling. The Defender as she named it was her prized possession, and an extension of her own very self, just like how beskar'gam was an extension of a Mandalorian. She would give it a final polish before slinging it over her back, the weapon locking itself to a magnetic strip to keep it secure as she reached down and grabbed her helmet off the crate. She turned it over in her hands, the T-visor staring at her with her reflection in it as a lengthy moment of silence passed. Was she nervous? Excited? Hopeful? No one could be sure as she wore a stoic expression on her face. It was one of sheer determination and commitment to a cause she believed in.


Without a word she would lift it up, turning it around as she slipped it over her head, now fully dressed in her full armor as she turned around to face dozens of Mandalorian warriors in the hangar with her. Though they were initially far fewer in number, a chance encounter and meeting on Hoylin had seen to it that their numbers were bolstered by another sub branch of Clan Fett that had broken off some decades ago in the past, now reunited with the chance to reclaim their heritage and honor as warriors. Though they had left in the past out of fear of destruction and would have been seen as cowards, Careena overlooked it. They were given an opportunity to make up for their past to seize the future with their own hands; together as one.


Careena's vocoded voice would ring out, loud and clear, speaking in confidence to those who chose to follow her into battle. " My brothers and sisters. We stand here today with the opportunity to strike at the Pretender and the blind dogs that call themselves followers. We suffered humility and defeat in the past, but we will not suffer it again. Let us remind her and her followers that we Mandalorians are to be feared and respected, not humiliated at the feet of their Sith masters who they so eagerly kneel down to. Let them choose to die on their knees as cowards and traitors or on their feet like true warriors. We may be a small clan, but remember that we are still proud of our ways! Show them how a true Fett warrior fights! "


Her speech would be met with an uproar of approval from her clan, many of them raising their weapons and arms in the air as they cheered. They were all prepared to die in glorious combat, the question remained whether the same could be said for their enemy. 

Edited by Careena Fett, 08 August 2019 - 07:04 AM.




    c н r y ѕ a l ι ѕ

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Vindicta; Artificial Intelligence

Location: Landing Zone of the Wyvern, Kiros Surface

Objective: Surveillance. Secure the area.

Allies: The Golden Company, Core Imperial Confederation

Enemies: The United Clans of Mandalore

Ground Force Complement: Detachment & Equipment List



Vindicta」 observed from the high orbit as the defoliants dyed the surface of Kiros in a sea of amber and crimson, as torrent after torrent of flames rippled across the verdant foliage, leaving only burnt earth in its path. Ever since 「Imperial Vessel: Wyvern」 has reverted close to the atmosphere, the artificial intelligence casted <her> surveillance web, scattering the reconnaissance droids throughout the system even as the message were being delivered to the denizens of the world below.


It was through the lenses of V-F2-#003 that 「The Black Swallowtail」 followed the exodus of the Togruta with a sense of detached curiousity even as they began to make their way towards various shelters. Sentients were sentients, and without logical subroutines and the efficiency of a hivemind to guide them, their mass migration was… slow.


But even when the shard of consciousness was taken by these beings of flesh and blood, <she> was ever aware of <her> tasks. And while there was an echo of reluctance when V-F2-#008 sent a stream of data back with mentions of an unknown ship entering the system, 「Vindicta」 conveyed the information to the Supreme Sun Guardian even as the freighter crossed into the atmosphere. For now, <she> was content to merely observe its progress through the eyes of her reconnaissance droids.


After all, <she> was about to attempt a new task.


As the final lick of flames of the defoliant began to flicker in the air and the Imperial gunships began to leave its hangar for the surface, the three Vakahn dropships that flanked its Argonaut brethren began its own descend. Within their hull, the Ares I units that was assigned to <her> began to rouse, their photoreceptors glowing as they cycled through the data and instructions that <she> relayed.


With a precision that was eerie, the combat platforms began to move towards the doors in sequences, their mechanical forms freefalling through the air for a fleeting moment until they activated their HDG belts. With the plumes of gas shrouding their frames, the droids landed on their feet, their primary weapons held at ready as they immediately moved outward in a defensive wave to secure the vicinity even as their sensors scanned the horizon for any signs of aggression.



Khonsu Amon |
Tanomas Graf | Cynthia Alucard
DT-4747 | Scherezade deWinter | Prime
Isobel Mattis | Grayson Mattis


Adenn Kyramud | Valdus Bral | Mig Gred
Reyn Australis | Nicair Claden
| Azure Djitred


Illyria Syresh

Illyria Syresh

    Princess turned Soldier

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ArmorAuxila Combat Suit

WeaponsHelius BR | Xiphos Vibroblade

Status: Confused

Allies: Vindicta | Khonsu Amon | Tanomas Graf | Prime | Grayson Mattis | Isobel Mattis | Koda Fett | Scherezade deWinter

Enemies: UCM



Ever since Bogden, Illyria has been feeling...different. She hadn't talked to Khonsu since then. To be specific, she hadn't talked to him much since the training session the pair had. He had made her...kill somebody. She hadn't shot somebody, she had not injured somebody. No. She...killed somebody. Even now, all of these weeks later, the blue-skinned woman still felt guilt over what she had done. She never wanted to kill people. She didn't feel as though it was anyone's right to take another's life, and yet, she had been forced to take another's life. Though, forced wasn't the right word. She had been coerced into taking another individual's life by Khonsu Amon. He had played on her fears and her anxieties, he had manipulated her, he had used her...all to take another's life. It was despicable and it was disgusting. She had trusted him, he had been one of the few people she had grown to trust immediately after what happened to her family and her home had happened. And yet he had used her like she was nothing to achieve his own ends.


Yet, she couldn't dwell on such things. She shouldn't, she had to be better. Or at least,she had to tell herself that she was better that all of those people her papa would always speak ill of. She didn’t want to be one of those people, yet she was becoming more and more like them each and every day. Especially since Khonsu had her kill someone.






Illyria's golden eyes watched the raging fires of the surrounding landscape as her gilded and gold metal boots carried her out of the hanger of the Venator Star-destroyer. She found the sight of the landscape strange and unlike of anything she had previously seen. Everything was gone, only bare soil and exposed rock was exposed now. All vegetation and sign of life was extinguished. What little remained of the surrounding area was either burned to a crisp, or was currently being burned by leftover munitions from the defoliator guns. Large hives of wasps dotted the ground, hives that were now actively being burned by both flamethrowers and the munitions discharge of the defoliators. It hurt the blue-skinned woman to see the landscape being destroyed like this, though she could do nothing to stop it. Nothing at all.


The female zabrak clenched the rifle tightly in her hands. She didn't want to kill anybody, she had never wanted such a thing. Illyria hated holding this gun, yet...it helped comfort her. Since being attacked in that alleyway during the Ison Corridor raid against what remained of the First Order, she had been closed off and afraid. She had wanted to tell someone about it, though she would just be looked at as a fool and a coward. She had thought Khonsu would have understood, yet she had not said anything to him. He knew she needed training, and telling him would only prevent her from doing anything. It would only make her useless.

Arash Garshasp

Arash Garshasp

    Spring Time of Youth

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Brief with the standard greeting, Arash quickly approached the rest of his comrades that all eagerly awaited once again a decent below to combat and face against the great myth of Mandalorian Warriors. The aura that glistened outwards no doubt came from their blades and weapons and yearned for their blood-thirst to be sated once more, the urge to prove their strength. 
The chance to break a myth and forge our own legends 
Arash though kept a steady straight line across his lips, despite with the other Legionnaires’ eager and hungriness did not but make the young Thyrsian anxious. His armored hand curled into a fist to steady the sudden quiver of his fingers. His free hand grasped the hilt of his saber and small amounts of solace radiated through his body but most importantly his mind. There was a strangeness that had come upon him suddenly after the last engagement against the Mandalorians. 
Doesn’t matter, not now at least. 
The transport continued to descend down to the surface, they had not expected much in the way of enemy air superiority, which only mean close ground support from the air for their own side. Thus the idea of being able to put their Anhur bikes to proper use against foot soldiers and other infantry types would finally be realized, as any enemy armor would be dealt with their own ground support or better yet, the Golden Company’s own anti-armor weaponry. 
Their shuttle continued their decent, with only the shakes of atmospheric pressure. Arash while inside continued to clutch the hilts of his weapons, the usual smile and cheerfulness before battle had evaporated, the growing urge to hunt and fight did not simply feel missing, but instead Arash felt such emotions as foreign to his own head. Arash checked his HUD and quickly scanned signs for abnormalities to his own health. 
Arash knew that it would be saved in his data-banks for requesting another medical check and Surya could easily see the reports when she would usually check his armor and make sure Arash wasn’t hurt or feigning a tough guy look. But for the moment Arash felt something was wrong and yet nothing was coming up as out of the ordinary and thus he bit his lip and resigned himself to his own thoughts until they landed. 
In hearts of war, under the Thyrsian sun.

Edited by Arash Garshasp, 08 August 2019 - 03:14 PM.