Public The Toothless Fortress [Open Recruitment.]

[LT-137]

Centax II.

For nearly a decade, this formerly insignificant moon of Coruscant found itself steadily rising in popularity. It was first chosen by the executives of the Republic Engineering Corporation for their primary base of operations, as there was an abandoned military installation there that had everything they could ever ask for.

Soon, the moon’s surface became ever-more crowded. Either because of the shadows cast by the proverbial armada holding station above the celestial satellite, or by the expansions made to the Corporation’s headquarters. With such factors beneath her belt, the Second Centax moon became one of the most popular fixtures in the heavens above Coruscant, almost becoming a stellar nation unto itself.

Some warships swore allegiance to the Security Forces of the Republic Engineering Corporation. In addition to this, there was a small flotilla of Thyrsian Starships that sailed alongside them. And, although the Command Hierarchy of the Core Imperial Confederation had splintered, scattering themselves to the solar tides, several of their cruisers found themselves joining the growing armada.

However, it was the toothless fortress that drew the most attention.

A gilded Skyhook was tethered high above the Second Centax moon and became the central Base of Operations for the Sun Guard within the sector. It was one of their primary centres of recruitment, and upon this day - it was packed to the brim with souls that sought to enlist with the Scions of Thyrsus. Their reasons were vast and varied. Some wished for the wealth such a profession would bring, while others sought after the glory that came from the battlefield.

Others craved a good measure of both.​

Thus, it was here that the newest faces to the Organization would find themselves; surrounded by painted murals of one victory after another and gilded statues of long-dead heroes. They would be forced to prove themselves. That they had the drive to not only better themselves, but those around them. These faceless hopefuls, should they earn the right, would become the next generation of capable men and women to bear the mantle of the Sun Guard.

Therefore, the Thyrsians had to be sure they were worthy of such an honour.

 

[Krek Libera]

The Golden Company is quite big. We will fit in well.​

​

Tag: [member="Khonsu Amon"]​

​

Coruscant was not Krek's favorite place to be. Even at the centre of the galaxy, the war machine could still feel out of place. So many little humanoids. The most populous and diverse planet in the galaxy, but still they stared as if he was some sort of nightmarish monster. Krek knew he was not the smartest, but he firmly believed that even if he were more intelligent this would continue to confound him.

Thus, being on Coruscant's moon was a breath of fresh air for the Twon Ketee, both literally and figuratively. The golden-armored soldiers still stared, of course, but not for as long and not with the same disdain or terror. There were warriors here; and thus he felt more at home on Centax II than among the flimsy organics on the planet he orbited.

The ride up the skyhook's Force Cylinder was a quiet one. The giant simply stared at the light above as he was beamed up to the station; his built-in scanners routinely confirming that the cylinder was stable. Space was quiet, as usual. The robotic chatter that normally filled his head quieted for just long enough such that he could enjoy the moment, enjoy the view. And then...

The station, too, felt rather muted as he first set his feet down on the Corinthian, but as he exited the 'landing' area there was a light buzz of conversation. The giant walked slowly down the main hall, following the directions to the recruitment office. The images and murals of the Golden Company's great victories were of no interest to him; there were greater goals to be achieved, and the first step would be enlisting in this hierarchy's great military.

Krek finally arrived, bending over such that he could be seen by the small human in the first booth. The Twon Ketee slowly reached into one of his pouches and produced a datacard, slipping it into the Thyrsian's reach.

"I am here to enlist," the robotic-voiced creature stated.

 

[Simon Meinrad]

There was nothing more desperate to see a soldier having no banner to fight for. They had no identity, they felt lost in trying to find a place to call home and swear their lives to defend it. An outcast of society. That’s how Choruk felt, but he shed no tears of any emotion. He was only angry and frustrated at the recent events the Galaxy would record. The Clone heard no news of the Chancellor, many in the Imperial government close to him couldn’t trace the Chancellor. There were rumors and predictions of what happened. One which was the most unoriginal, yet believable concept was that he was murdered by a senator that grew envious of the man’s power and wished to seize it. The only thing they’d ever have was a state in turmoil, many fighting for central command of the Confederation. Another plausible concept was an enemy of the Confederation managed to have an assailant successfully take away Tanomas Graf’s last breath, the guards failing to do their duty.

There were all kinds of assumptions as to who did the crime, but that was the least of their worries. All that mattered was to who would be the head of state and continue the legacy of the Emperor. Sadly the Confederation had a schism of those that could be taken as rebel scum with beliefs of the Chancellor having less control of the military and other powers with the excuse that it could evolve into another authoritarian figure. Others held the same mindset as Graf, except their egos and pride to be their downfall each boasting themselves to be an excellent heir to Tanomas Graf; none could find the virtue of being humble and acknowledge those with the will to take the responsibility of the Confederation. And so another internal conflict sparked within the Confederation, systems either deciding their allegiance or be conquered if being indecisive.

Choruk was able to retain much of his Marines from the Imperial Galactic Marine Corps he served and able to recruit more soldiers, whether from within the Marines or outside, into his legion. A majority of the members were clones from the Fett genome as it could be noticed his prejudice towards those that didn’t share his blood. With the personnel and assets he acquired the Clone commander would himself on one of Coruscant’s moon as news reached to him of a group of mercenary warriors extending their arms for those in the Confederation wishing to find a new banner to serve. He never considered himself a mercenary as he had objectives ingrained in his mind, but that mission might as well be a failure considering the broken structures of the Confederation. It might just cease to exist tomorrow.

The Clone with a platoon of his men, the others kept in the vessels of their possession, was aboard the Toothless Fortress finding the traffic of business to be insufferable. Many faces belonged to the now defunct Confederation military, and others were probably civilians enamored with the idea of glory to their name, wishing to have the Galaxy remember them for eternity.

Personal glory wasn’t something his personality approved or the promise of treasure beyond their riches.

He was more interested if the Suns of Thyrsus was something he’d be content fighting for.

[member="Khonsu Amon"]

 

[LT-137]

It was just another day at the Toothless Fortress, thought Cyrus Wren. The man was stationed aboard the Skyhook ever since it came online, and saw the ever-shifting press of bodies that sought to enlist within the ranks of the Golden Company. Their reasons for signing up were as vast and varied as the stars themselves, and Wren almost knew them all.

He saw people wanting to escape the supposed curse that afflicted the Core Region, and flee from the dangers of living on the most desired, and wartorn planet in the Galaxy. The notions of poverty, despair, and hopelessness were rife among the Coruscanti people, and opportunities for growth were rare. Even with the Core-Imperials setting up shop on the planet below, there was little that could be done to restore the Queen of the Core to her former majesty. However, that's where the Golden Company came in.

Ever since they set-up shop above Centax II - they've become a beacon of purpose to those without a cause. The mercenary outfit gave everyone an equal chance to make something of themselves and even promised to facilitate their festering notions of revenge. Such emotion was a powerful motivator to the downtrodden, especially those greatly affected by the rule of the One Sith and the savage atrocities of their successors.

The man also saw countless souls step forth, seeking to find their own fortunes and glory by employing themselves with the Company. They were prideful creatures, and many fell on the battlefield trying to grasp such lofty goals. They were met with a terrible fate, but it wasn't like those sentient beings didn't know what they were walking into. War was a bloody, and profitable business, after all. The Golden Company did their best to ensure that those enlisting within their ranks were well-prepared for the variable battlefields across the Galaxy, but that training could only carry a Soldier of Fortune so far. Their decisions and skill would have to take them the rest of the way, and that was something that the organization couldn't teach from the get-go.

Cyrus thought he saw it all, and almost every species that populated the stars. However, there was a looming figure that filled his ragged mind with traces of surprise. It was a creature, unlike anything he saw before. It towered over the people that shuffled alongside it or scampered out of its way. He couldn't believe that a creature that tall existed. He even saw how tall the creatures who sought to despoil the surface of Eshan, and they paled in comparison to this towering beast. Whatever this figure was, not only were they tall, but a majority of their body was outfitted with armoured plates and strange cybernetics.

When the figure arrived at Cyrus' booth, the man was forced to crane his neck upwards to see the creature's 'face.' He didn't feel threatened in the slightest by the towering and intimidating presence of the beast, but there were signs of discomfort - since he never had to raise his head so high, and his ageing muscles ached. His gaze didn't falter, even when the beast spoke through an integrated speaker, and held out a dataslate with all the creature's relevant information stored within. Cyrus took the offered the datacard and perused its data with a careful eye.

"Welcome to the Toothless Fortress," the Enlistment Officer said after he was finished scanning the datacard. "Krek Libera."

"Before we begin, could you tell me more about your species? You're the first Twon Ketee we've encountered, and we need to know if there are any specifications that you may require."

| [member="Krek Libera"] |​

 

[Shattered_Mirror]

In the long years of my life, I’ve borne witness to the many faces of Coruscant. I saw the world when it was malformed and despoiled by the One Sith, and then again during the reign of the Galactic Alliance. It was a cursed world, as the rumours said, in many respects. Every warring Faction and Intergalactic Government that laid claim to this misbegotten world found itself cracking underneath their respective mantles of responsibility. The world was ravaged by decades of conflict, and barely managed to recover before it was assailed yet again.

No wonder people sought to leave the world in droves. They were desperate for a release from the torment of their own respective, personal hells.

The Golden Company, in a way, offered these people a measure of release. The organization was more than willing to take on any and all that sought to make something of themselves, and did all they could to facilitate their needs. It was one of the reasons why the mercenary outfit grew so quickly and became the best in the business. Our meteoric rise left the outfit starving for bodies to fill various positions, both in administrative and frontline positions. Therefore, there were plenty of opportunities for almost everyone, from every walk of life, to remake their lives under the Banner of the Sword and Sun.

This stance, as one could imagine, drew in entire legions of lost souls or defectors from the various failed states across the galaxy. I couldn’t count how many warriors from the First Order, the Galactic Alliance, and even the Mandalorian Empire were amongst our ranks now. There were even some I have, and have had the most profound pleasure of calling my Brothers, or Sisters-in-Arms. If they proved themselves worthy of wearing the Golden Armour, much like I did after I was cast aside - then what they did in life beforehand mattered little.

They made their choice, and were expected to live with it; irregardless of the fame and fortune their new lives would bring. This was the way.

When news began to spread of the Core-Imperials and their Confederation collapsing, I felt drawn back to the world of Coruscant - simply so I could bear witness to the influx of fresh blood that sought to enlist within the Golden Company. There was also another, more insidious reason that spurred me into action, but, those justifications were mine and mine alone. Nevertheless, upon seeing an entire platoon of soldiers find their way onto the oversized Skyhook, I found myself drawn to their presence. Someone could say, their polished armour caught my eye, while others would say… less than enticing words regarding my attraction towards their battle dress.

My only concern was that they weren’t being greeted with the same hospitality that many of the other large groups were receiving. It seems that there was quite the influx of soldiers from various branches of the Core-Imperial regime, and that our organization’s staff were… taxed with directing and informing so many souls at once. I supposed it was only right that a man of my status as the Supreme Sun Guardian’s Herald and physical stature would, and could act as their welcoming party. Who knows? Whoever these Soldiers were might even relish the idea of being welcomed by someone ranked highly within the Golden Company!

My eyes darted from armoured face, to armoured face, when I came to stand before the Imperialized Coterie. I sought to discern the faces that lay beneath those characteristically white battle helms, and see who I’d be dealing with. But, as their visors were polarized, it kept their facial features shrouded. Undaunted, however, I wore my brightest smile - and even flashed some teeth.

“Welcome, kindred souls, to the Toothless Fortress.”

“I am Lucius Varad, Emissary of the Supreme Sun Guardian and a dozen other paltry honourifics which matter little.” My words were spoken to all of the assembled soldiers, but as soon as they were spoken my span of attention narrowed to a single person who stood out from the rest.

“I take it you’re looking to inquire about a worthy cause?”

| [member="CC-239"] |​

 

[Krek Libera]

Thoughtful.​

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Tag: [member="Khonsu Amon"]​

​

Krek was far from without a cause -- it simply happened that the Sun Guard could offer him what he needed. A relatively safe and stable workplace; enough money and resources to acquire what was required for his goals. Nothing as complex as conquering planets or managing galactic wars. He had something to protect, and while he believed in no gods he knew he would be damned for eternity if he failed this task.

"Is your armor strong? If it is there will be no problems." The Twon Ketee had his own gear, but he was hoping to acquire something more modern and fitting of a Golden Company soldier. Despite his size and physical nature he hoped to fit in among these warriors -- and he'd heard their equipment was the most advanced in the galaxy. Still, the small enlistment officer's craning neck reminded Krek once more that he was still by far the largest creature on this station. He'd never ask to become human, but causing them less discomfort due to his size and appearance may benefit many.

The thought came a little late, but once it did he voiced it immediately. Hopefully his new potential employers wouldn't mind his extra request. "I am in need of a containment unit, for a small object." He paused, then realized their definitions of small may differ. "An object that is round, fragile, and about a foot and a half across," the giant said, estimating the size with two of his hands. "It must be very durable. Could this be provided as part of my enlistment? It would ensure my best work in the field."

 

[Simon Meinrad]

Maybe it was a bit of an exaggeration to bring a whole platoon of Marines with him to the fortress when surrounded and mixed in with this traffic of sentients finding ways to join the Sun Guards. There was some glances from the patrons, looks of confusion and unsettling to see a uniformed, militant group on board the Toothless. No one bothered with Choruk and his men, or found security to declare themselves as potential hostiles to the calm, yet crowded environment.

Until finally a single man in what seemed to be power armor approached the platoon of clones. He stood out from the rest of the others colors that stirred in from what Choruk could see. Bright and shiny gold, and just by that small deduction this man was part of the famed mercenaries from Thyrsus. Respected warriors, though he did question the color code they all wore. Then again others weren’t a big fan of the color white from the generations of clone troopers and stormtroopers from Imperial governments in the past. A symbol of oppression and dictatorship some would take it by.

”My name is Choruk and these are my men, though there are more with me just not present,” the clone said giving an emotionless stare back at Lucius with his helmet, ditching his birth number and opting to use the nickname he was given to him during that time of extreme training he and his kin endured from the laboratories and training grounds they were temporarily confined to until they graduated. Though he did received more advanced training as he was chosen to be a commanding officer for the Imperial Marines and as a commando for the Confederation.

”Yes, we come from the now defunct Confederation that you now see Coruscant about to be besieged in some time to come. Many generals and politicians are at each other’s throats and I don’t have the want to fight for those with a lust for power or having no vision at all. We have no banner to stand for and decided to see what doors the Sun Guards can present to us.”

[member="Lucius Varad"]

 

[LT-137]

There was a moment, fleeting as it was, that Cyrus found himself immensely regretful that this towering creature chose his booth instead of someone else’s. The Golden Company, in all their intergalactic travels, never encounter a Twon Ketee - and they wanted to know more about them. Not only to tailor their armour to their impressively massive bulk but to learn of their strengths and weaknesses on the battlefield.

The Thyrsians would doubtlessly relish knowing who, and what exactly they were fighting beside. To better adapt their tactics and strategies beforehand, rather than on the fly.

However, instead of filling in all that necessary and ultimately critical information, the creature asked if the Golden Company’s armour was strong. Of course, it was strong, Cyrus thought to himself. No creature in the Galaxy was capable of breaking the Sun Guard’s indomitable aegis - let alone the gilded armour that lay beneath. They were the immortal crusaders of Thyrsus; Warriors from another time that have come to the present to ensure the continuance of those desert people, and their martial culture.

At least, that’s what the propaganda films said. Cyrus had little experience or interactions with the Sun Guard, as their transient deployments kept them rotating from one battlefield to the next across the Galaxy.

“Their armour is the strongest in the Galaxy, I’m told,” Cyrus replied, placing the crystalline dataslate down on his desk. “So far none of the Species, Factions, or Empires across the stars have been capable of breaking it. Many have tried, however.”

“But there’s still-”

Before he could even finish, Krek made the demand for a containment unit for... something. The Twon Ketee never got around to mentioning what it was that they wanted to contain, only that it was small and fragile - along with the dimensions.

Was it a pet? He couldn’t say.

“Yes,” Cyrus nodded, “We can easily fabricate a containment unit for you after the enlistment process is complete. Our Nano-constructors are some of the most advanced and sophisticated pieces of technology in the Galaxy, after all.”

“Were you wanting the containment unit reinforced at all, should whatever it is that you’re trying to contain, or protect, come endangered by any fieldwork?”

Krek Libera ​

 

[Shattered_Mirror]

I stood in silence, as the soldier who was placed at the head of the pack came forth to identify himself and tell the story of what brought him to the Golden Company’s doors. Like me, the man grew tired of the games of their supposed betters. The constant bickering of old weaklings who lorded over their supposedly nameless lessers, sending them to die whenever irreconcilable disputes.

No wonder they sought out our Mercenary group. At least every Sun Guard that fought beneath the Sword and Suns did so for their own reasons and weren’t demanded to die for reasons they didn’t believe in. Perhaps these Clones would find new purpose within the Gilded Confraternity. Maybe they’d finally be able to live and die for themselves - rather than for the capricious whims of someone else who wouldn’t fight alongside them.

The bonds of comrades forged in the heat of battle were stronger than those formed within the opulent halls of palaces.

“There is much the Sun Guard can offer you,” I said, letting my lips curl into a smile. “But it wouldn’t do our Organization justice to converse without refreshment.”

To greet one’s guests and offer them food and drink was an ancient Thyrsian custom, one that dated back thousands of years to a time long-forgotten by recorded history. It was one of the many traditions I was taught when I was chosen to ascend from the ranks of my aureate brethren. While it wasn’t a planned encounter, there was a chance that I could entice the entire band of Clones to join me elsewhere - where there’d be less of an opportunity for others to overhear our conversation.

Even though the Vigil Oculi were active and highly-skilled, they weren’t entirely perfect.

“If you and your men would care to join me, we can talk plainly and enjoy some of the finer things in life - taken from some Noble’s manse in the Outer Rim.”

Simon Meinrad​