M A N D A L O R E
CHOIR OF ONE
“When the old songs fail, we write new ones in fire.”
SERENNO, OUTER RIM TERRITORIES
There were no stars in sight, not from the underbelly of the cruiser that loomed like a phantom above Serenno’s cloudline. Only the planet below, draped in gold and shadow, bathed in the decadent hush of nobles who had forgotten how close their ancestors once lived to fire and ash. The world was beautiful. Untouched in the ways that made it dangerous. Its spires sang of old power, of ancestral privilege carved in marble and lined in silk, and the nobility within them played their games as though war could not reach so high. As though the tides of empire did not rise to drown the proud.
But war was already here. It moved quiet through the stars. It listened in every transmission. It dressed itself in armor and silence, and spoke only when the time came to act. For the Mandalorians, the time was now.
They had crossed fire on Roon. They had weathered the storm on Onderon. The cry of Khar Zuun had echoed from the mouths of warriors and children alike, the name carried like a storm through the veins of the clans. But in light of recent tragedy, what began as an honored tradition became a reckoning. The Black Summer, as the Mand'alor decreed, had no limit. It had no border. It had only purpose. It was the Mandalorian answer to silence, to cowardice, to a galaxy content to look away until it, too, was burning. Now, the cause evolved after Vexis Station. The Empire had ceased to wait for justice to be gifted by those who feigned kinship. Now, they had taken it by the throat and dragged it from the stars.
Why? For the child. For their fallen. Mandalore's loss had stripped away any pretense of neutrality. The Diarchy had crossed a line written in blood, and the Mandalorian Empire would answer, not in the language of diplomacy, but in the tongue of fire. Thus, the Mandalorian Empire arrived within orbit, welcomed by a cadre native to the world.
The Chorus of Serenno had made their offer with silk-gloved fingers and serpent’s smiles, promising loyalty if left to rule their gilded cage unshackled. They were not a single voice, but a collection of them, an alliance of noble houses long discontent with the sole regency of the Count of Serenno. They saw no future in one throne, one crown, or one family dictating the course of an entire world, and sought instead to share governance between their midst. In their eyes, the Count’s allegiance leaned toward the Diarchy, and they feared that without intervention, the planet would slip irrevocably into its orbit. They spoke of bias within the current regime, of Great Houses that bent the knee to the Diarchy’s vision, and of a world that would soon become hostile ground if action was not taken. In that, the Mand'alor saw the value. Not in their politics, but in the precedent. A noble house seeking the Caburian Creed, asking not to be spared judgment, but to become Mandalorian in spirit, if not in blood. As their blades were turned against a common enemy, the Creed would become reality.
Thus, two objectives had been named.
First, the destruction of the planetary ordnance depot, buried deep within a fortified mountain keep. A crusader’s work. Second, the pursuit of well-placed bounties on the heads of House Serenno and its co-conspirator, House Malvern. Their summer gala would mark the beginning, a stage set with music and wine, but destined to end in blood. A mercenary’s work. The kind of contract that would pay for generations, yet the coin mattered far less than the message. Those who bound themselves to the Diarchy would find no sanctuary behind polished stone or velvet veils.
This was the path ahead. Not conquest for its own sake, nor vengeance unanchored, but justice shaped by flame and carried by those who remembered. For the sake of the fallen. For the future being forged. The Mandalorian Empire would descend upon Serenno as both shield and sword, as hammer and standard, as the voice of all who had been silenced.
And in the wake of their arrival, only one choir would remain.
But war was already here. It moved quiet through the stars. It listened in every transmission. It dressed itself in armor and silence, and spoke only when the time came to act. For the Mandalorians, the time was now.
They had crossed fire on Roon. They had weathered the storm on Onderon. The cry of Khar Zuun had echoed from the mouths of warriors and children alike, the name carried like a storm through the veins of the clans. But in light of recent tragedy, what began as an honored tradition became a reckoning. The Black Summer, as the Mand'alor decreed, had no limit. It had no border. It had only purpose. It was the Mandalorian answer to silence, to cowardice, to a galaxy content to look away until it, too, was burning. Now, the cause evolved after Vexis Station. The Empire had ceased to wait for justice to be gifted by those who feigned kinship. Now, they had taken it by the throat and dragged it from the stars.
Why? For the child. For their fallen. Mandalore's loss had stripped away any pretense of neutrality. The Diarchy had crossed a line written in blood, and the Mandalorian Empire would answer, not in the language of diplomacy, but in the tongue of fire. Thus, the Mandalorian Empire arrived within orbit, welcomed by a cadre native to the world.
The Chorus of Serenno had made their offer with silk-gloved fingers and serpent’s smiles, promising loyalty if left to rule their gilded cage unshackled. They were not a single voice, but a collection of them, an alliance of noble houses long discontent with the sole regency of the Count of Serenno. They saw no future in one throne, one crown, or one family dictating the course of an entire world, and sought instead to share governance between their midst. In their eyes, the Count’s allegiance leaned toward the Diarchy, and they feared that without intervention, the planet would slip irrevocably into its orbit. They spoke of bias within the current regime, of Great Houses that bent the knee to the Diarchy’s vision, and of a world that would soon become hostile ground if action was not taken. In that, the Mand'alor saw the value. Not in their politics, but in the precedent. A noble house seeking the Caburian Creed, asking not to be spared judgment, but to become Mandalorian in spirit, if not in blood. As their blades were turned against a common enemy, the Creed would become reality.
Thus, two objectives had been named.
First, the destruction of the planetary ordnance depot, buried deep within a fortified mountain keep. A crusader’s work. Second, the pursuit of well-placed bounties on the heads of House Serenno and its co-conspirator, House Malvern. Their summer gala would mark the beginning, a stage set with music and wine, but destined to end in blood. A mercenary’s work. The kind of contract that would pay for generations, yet the coin mattered far less than the message. Those who bound themselves to the Diarchy would find no sanctuary behind polished stone or velvet veils.
This was the path ahead. Not conquest for its own sake, nor vengeance unanchored, but justice shaped by flame and carried by those who remembered. For the sake of the fallen. For the future being forged. The Mandalorian Empire would descend upon Serenno as both shield and sword, as hammer and standard, as the voice of all who had been silenced.
And in the wake of their arrival, only one choir would remain.
OBJECTIVE I: THE ANCESTORS REMEMBER
Location: Camp Drystan, Mountain Fortress Complex
Hidden within the jagged peaks of Serenno’s northern range lies Camp Drystan, a fortress hewn into the bones of the mountain itself. A relic of planetary war doctrine, the complex houses Serenno’s principal ordnance depot, a cache of high-powered artillery, anti-air systems, and munitions capable of supplying the entire planetary militia in the event of rebellion. Its exterior bristles with automated defense turrets, artillery nests, and sensor towers, while its interior sprawls through narrow tunnels and reinforced bunkers designed to funnel invaders into kill zones.
This is where crusaders walk. The ancestors who forged empires with flame and iron watch this path with pride. It is a proving ground not just of strength, but of will. The warriors of the Empire descend upon the Crown to ensure that when the regime falls, it does so without the means to rise again.
Your mission? Breach the fortress. Detonate the cache. Carve your legend into the stone.
This is where crusaders walk. The ancestors who forged empires with flame and iron watch this path with pride. It is a proving ground not just of strength, but of will. The warriors of the Empire descend upon the Crown to ensure that when the regime falls, it does so without the means to rise again.
Your mission? Breach the fortress. Detonate the cache. Carve your legend into the stone.
PvE | Combat-Focused. Expect entrenched defenders, tunnel warfare, mounted artillery, and a desperate militia! For seasoned warriors eager to test their mettle, this is the forge!
OBJECTIVE II: SONGS OF GOLD AND BLOOD
Location: Mirador Aréte, Palace of House Serenno
Mirador Aréte rises like a dream from the green cliffs of southern Serenno, an opulent estate surrounded by manicured gardens and crystalline lakes. Its marble towers catch the light like ivory spears, while golden banners flutter from its ramparts in defiance of the storm to come. Tonight, its grand ballroom pulses with the sounds of string quartets and whispered schemes, as the summer gala draws the elite from across the planet. Diplomats, heirs, and military advisors drink under a painted sky, oblivious to the knives moving through the dark.
The bounties are clear. The heads of House Serenno and House Malvern are marked for death or capture, their loyalty to the Diarchy sealed in coin and blood. But the writ leaves room for choice. The Chorus will not mourn if entire lineages vanish into the soil. Nor will they flinch if the guilty are dragged, breathing, before their throne. This is where the mercenaries walk. Honorable killers who understand that sometimes a knife in the right place does more than an army in the field.
Your mission? Infiltrate the gala. Complete the bounty. Decide what justice looks like when the masks fall.
The bounties are clear. The heads of House Serenno and House Malvern are marked for death or capture, their loyalty to the Diarchy sealed in coin and blood. But the writ leaves room for choice. The Chorus will not mourn if entire lineages vanish into the soil. Nor will they flinch if the guilty are dragged, breathing, before their throne. This is where the mercenaries walk. Honorable killers who understand that sometimes a knife in the right place does more than an army in the field.
Your mission? Infiltrate the gala. Complete the bounty. Decide what justice looks like when the masks fall.
PvE | Infiltration and Assassination. Expect elite guards, noble defenses, and shifting opportunities. Blend in or go loud. For warriors new and old, this is the work that sharpens the knife! You choose who lives. You choose how the Empire is remembered.
OBJECTIVE III: BRING YOUR OWN VERSE
Location: Serenno, as the stars see fit
Not all battles are fought for the sake of conquest. Some are waged for family. For pride. For debts long overdue.
Serenno is a world steeped in old blood and older secrets. Its vaults whisper of artifacts stolen during the Clone Wars. Its forests hide holdouts from a dozen failed uprisings. Its noble archives house names that some Mandalorians may not have expected to see again. And now, with the planet on the verge of upheaval, the lines between opportunity and obligation blur.
Perhaps you are here to settle a blood feud your clan could never touch until now.
Perhaps you infiltrate the gala not for bounty, but to extract someone you once loved.
Perhaps you seek rare minerals buried in the northern peaks, or ancestral treasures traded away generations ago.
Perhaps the Manda pulls you toward something deeper, a forgotten shrine or an echo waiting in the dark.
Serenno is a world steeped in old blood and older secrets. Its vaults whisper of artifacts stolen during the Clone Wars. Its forests hide holdouts from a dozen failed uprisings. Its noble archives house names that some Mandalorians may not have expected to see again. And now, with the planet on the verge of upheaval, the lines between opportunity and obligation blur.
Perhaps you are here to settle a blood feud your clan could never touch until now.
Perhaps you infiltrate the gala not for bounty, but to extract someone you once loved.
Perhaps you seek rare minerals buried in the northern peaks, or ancestral treasures traded away generations ago.
Perhaps the Manda pulls you toward something deeper, a forgotten shrine or an echo waiting in the dark.
The mission is what you make it. The legend is yours to write!
Shot Sutaz
Drystan Creed
Kyor "Mute" Jaeirr
Brent Warnel
Vahlika Velhaari
Hilal Vizsla
Sibylla Abrantes
Alyvia Toss
Vanadium
Platinum
Electrum
Elira Verd
@Viera
Nando
Tin
Serra Toss
Ranna Sejast
Aiden Wolf
Palladium
Songsteel
Alara Ordo
Minerva Fhirdiad
Aadihr Lidos
Azurine Varek
Kayte Toss
Lynn Caromed
Fabula Caromed
Is'ekapi Rex
Dreidi Xeraic
Grym Lok
Skye Mertaal
Zee Caromed
Rheyla Tann
Haken Ralo Bolt
Ginjako Brorai
Maiz Tor'val
Xasin Dyst
Sanguina Krev
Svidur Galaar
Vaux Gred
Mig Gred
Edrick Aethelred
Tarre Priest
Cerar Vizsla
Kassandra Beskar'ad
Kad'irk'Ra
Janous Ryss
Liorra
Tyr Mereel
Conrad
Aren D'Shade
Zel Sharratt
Korra Kast
Whottoomuzz Chantin
Reshim
Red Mobius
Emilia Locke
Athena Faar
Thalira Kiing
Vulcan Krayt
Delsin Shaw
Montello Deshra
Adonis Angelis IV
Siv Kryze
Jaikell Wyrvhor
Itzhal Volkihar
Valah Hagen
Vytal Noctura
Suleiman Lok
Kyrida Verd
Jiriad Galaar
Kandosii Ka'rta
Manti Wyrvhor
Mia Monroe
Ladante Mamba
Raef Malstadt
Ciri Jade
Lunara Azure
Kirae Orade
Ro'talius Emanti
Alora Vizsla
Zhulghua
Kalðr Ísbjørn
Cordelia Malkavian
Drego Ruus
"Templar"
CT-312
Tomaj Eldar
Rhys Swynol
Lysara Rynn
Nephthys Nardithi-Verd
Hanna
Siae Andronike
Zlova Rue
Runi Kuryida
Ren Ashbridge
Aliza Vale
Thram Drokor
Sagan Verd
Ze'bast Verd
Vyse de Valorous
@Varuun Rekaal
Kuben Woods
Valeria de la Vallée
Lyra Scarlet
Talohn Atar
Incitrix
Klavatora Verd
Aselia Verd
