Dark Empire RPG (Game Thread) - SW: Galactic Battlegrounds Heaven Forum

Topic Subject: Dark Empire RPG (Game Thread)

Gorog
Clone Trooper
(id: Bando_Gora1138)

posted 02-02-13 12:57 PM EDT (US)

Star Wars

Six years have passed since the Battle of Endor decisively turned the war in the Rebellion's favor. A New Republic has been reborn on the galactic capital.

It appears that the end of the war is near. Grand Admiral Thrawn, the last of the Imperial Grand Admirals, is dead. The warlords of the Empire fight to maintain their hold on the galactic rim. The heroes of the Republic begin looking to rebuild the galaxy from decades of civil war.

But the Empire still fights on. Criminals and terrorists seek to capitalize on the galaxy's fragile state. A resurgent Black Sun boldly seeks to stake its claim in the underworld. And, unbeknownst to all but a handful, the true threat awaits, manipulating affairs and nearly ready to strike back from the dark heart of the galaxy...

RULES:

*No godmodding.
*Obey the CoC.
*No Galaxy Gun or Force wormholes.
*Moff and Bando are the admins.
*Have fun.

FORM:

Name: (Name of Character)
User: (Name of User)
Species: (Species of Character)
Faction: (New Republic, Galactic Empire, Dark Empire, Black Sun, Other)
Bio: (Biography of Character)
Other:
Post Color:

New Republic

Name: Luke Skywalker
User: Gorog
Species: He's a Human, duh.
Faction: New Republic
Bio: Really? You're in a Star Wars forum and you really don't know who he is? For shame.
Other: He never did pick up those power converters.
Post Color: Bando Blue

Name: Leia Organa Solo
User: Gorog
Species: Human
Faction: New Republic
Bio: Princess-turned-Rebel-turned-diplomat.
Other: Has a thing against nerf-herders.
Post Color: Bando Blue

Name: Mon Mothma
User: Admiral Fyyar
Species: Human
Faction: New Republic
Bio: You know her!
Other: Is always morally right.
Post Color: Tan.

Name: Lee Haman
User: jssf1992
Species: Human
Faction: New Republic
Bio: Lee is a former Imperial Navy officer who defected a couple of years after the battle of Endor. He did so simply because he thought that the Alliance would win (not that he will tell anyone that). He currently serves as Captain on a corvette of the New Republic fleet (I don't know enough to be any more specific). Despite being a Navel officer, Lee would take any excuse to fight planetside, and takes any oppurtunity to spar with another soldier.
Other: He is a competent naval officer, but is barely capable of leading ground forces.
Post Color: I'm thinking orange

Name: Dr. Anna Durham
User: Zaarin
Species: Human
Faction: New Republic
Bio: Anna Durham is an extremely talented young archaeologist and historian from Empress Teta. She had just graduated with highest honors from the University of Sanbra with her first doctorate at the age of 20 when the Empire was destroyed. Dr. Durham is well-meaning but misguided, and she considers the Rebels--and their New Republic successors--a "ragtag gang of riffraff and miscreants" (to use her exact words). Durham now has three doctorates, one in archaeology, one in ancient history with a focus on Jedi studies, and one in xenoanthropology. Durham now serves as professor emeritus of Jedi history at the University of Sanbra, spending her free time in the field. Durham has worked on dig sites across the galaxy and is an expert on numerous historical subjects, but the ancient Jedi are her speciality. Indeed, the one piece of Imperial propaganda she has not thoroughly swallowed is that the Jedi were evil--though she only insists that the *ancient* Jedi were not evil. (She also is not particularly xenophobic or humanocentric.) Anna is not incredibly shy but she can be awkward when not talking about her fields of expertise. In the classroom, or on topics where she is an expert, she speaks with great authority. She has recently been doing excavations on Ossus and has come across a most exquisite find: the holocron of Ooroo and the lightsaber of Arka Jeth. She is currently seeking a Force sensitive individual to help her access the holocron so that she may study its contents.
Other: As a professor at the University of Sanbra, Anna is technically a New Republic citizen, but her allegiances are decidedly Imperial.
Post Color: Persian Green

Name: Lushros Dofine
User: Viceroy Billy
Species: Neimoidian
Faction: New Republic
Bio: Viceroy of the four Neimoidias, Senator of the New Republic (I don't know if those two positions are compatible, so if Senator doesn't work perhaps some other kind of high official). Former fleet commander. One of the few officials of the CIS still alive and active, Lushros Dofine is getting older and is starting to feel like a relic of a bygone era. A fierce opponent of the Empire, Lushros was quick to declare Neimoidian support for the Rebellion after the Mon Calamari did so, but only managed to free his people in the aftermath of the Battle of Endor Instrumental in bringing former CIS nations into the New Republic.
Other: Giving him a proper sendoff in a final RPG appearance
Post Color: Green

Galactic Empire

Name: Palpatine
User: Moff
Species: Cloned Human
Faction: Dark Empire/Galactic Empire
Bio: Looks like I might lightsaber Maul and Opress to death in TCW... other than that: http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Palpatine
Other: ...It's Palpy. And he's not going to be quite as crazy as he was in the comics.

Post Color: Blood Red

Name: Ams Jendob
User: Moff
Species: Human
Faction: Galactic Empire (de jure), Dark Empire (de facto)
Bio:

Born on Coruscant three years before the start of the Clone Wars, Ams Jendob was orphaned at six when his parents were killed by a starship crash during the Battle of Coruscant at the war's end. He was transferred to an upper-class COMPNOR-run orphanage the same day the Republic was dissolved. There, Jendob was indoctrinated with the tenets of the New Order, and by his teenaged years, was fast-tracked on a career as an Imperial Security Bureau plant for the Imperial Navy.

However, at the Imperial Academy at Prefsbelt, agents of Armand Isard's Imperial Intelligence--arch-rival to the ISB--noted Jendob's skills in information retention, marksmanship, and his decidedly unauthorized jaunts with high-performance speeders and the few female cadets (and a female instructor). When facing academic expulsion, Intelligence made Jendob an offer he could not turn down: join Isard's unit and the charges would be quietly dismissed... as well as an immediate bump in rank upon graduation.

Junior Lieutenant Jendob officially joined the Imperial Navy the same year the Declaration of Rebellion began the Galactic Civil War as a relief navigator aboard a Nebulon-B frigate. Agent Ams Jendob of Adjustments was posted to ferret out suspected Rebel sympathizers. Jendob discovered a small group of officers and noncoms planned to take the bridge to deliver the ship to the newly founded Alliance. He assassinated the leaders of the group and threw the conspirators into disarray and internecine conflict.

Jendob was promoted steadily through the naval ranks, as much for the sake of cover as for accomplishment. While assigned as Executive Officer of the Victory-class Star Destroyer Firestorm just before the Battle of Hoth, the bridge was strafed by Alliance bombers. The captain and half of the bridge crew were killed, with Jendob sustaining moderate injuries. Taking control of the weapons station, Lieutenant Commander Jendob lured the Alliance fighters in for another pass, then fired a broadside of assault concussion missiles. Several missiles contained experimental electronic warfare warheads that crippled the enemy sensors and targeting systems, while the remainder were loaded with cluster warheads. A storm of low-powered but numerous concussion missiles annihilated the Alliance fighters and allowed an opening for the Firestorm's bombers to damage an MC80 providing fire support while the ship's guns destroyed two Corellian gunships and a corvette. Jendob received a commendation and a formal promotion to Commander.

When Palpatine returned to Byss shortly after the death of his original body, Jendob was still serving in Ysanne Isard's Imperial Intelligence, mostly performing surveillance and sabotage of defiant Imperial warlords. He was involved in few direct assassinations. When Isard's vendetta against Rogue Squadron resulted in the deaths of her and her clone, Jendob heard rumors of some officers going to the Deep Core. Suspecting warlords consolidating their power, the now-leaderless commander decided to investigate, in hopes of bringing down more traitors.

Instead, Jendob discovered Palpatine's Dark Empire. With no need for non-Force Sensitive spies and assassins, the commander was given a Vindicator-class heavy cruiser to command and patrol the terminus of the Byss Run at Empress Teta.
Other: This one's a little closer to the original, with some ideas for the new one folded in. <_<
Post Color: Air Superiority Blue

Name: Lucian Horton
User: Admiral Fyyar
Species: Human
Faction: Galactic Empire/Dark Empire
Bio:

Lucian Horton was born nearly two decades before the Clone Wars on Commenor. Even though he spent his early years studying to become a scientist, the great battles of the Clone Wars fascinated him, and he signed up for the navy. He quickly showed promise and was transferred to the Anaxes Naval Academy and proved himself a capable, occasionally brilliant and very loyal naval commander during the Empire's infancy.

He worked his way up through the ranks to Fleet Admiral and was assigned to head the defense forces of Tallaan a few months before the Battle of Endor. In the ensuing chaos his superior, the commander of the Tapani sector fleet, perished and Horton soon found himself rallying the sector fleet in defense of the sector. He remained nominally loyal to the central Imperial government but found them lacking in strategic prowess, preferring instead to use Tallaan's shipyards to reinforce his fleet and to continue defending the Tapani sector from continuous New Republic attacks. He managed to score a number of significant victories against invading New Republic fleets that cost them dearly in terms of heavy warships, turning the Tapani sector into something of a headache for the New Republic High Command.

When Thrawn emerged Horton quickly pledged the Tallaan shipyards and a number of Star Destroyers to the Grand Admiral. After Thrawn's failure Horton once again sees his sector under siege, with seemingly no hope of a new strong Imperial leader in sight.

Other: Commands the Tapani sector forces from the battlecruiser Allegiance.
Post Color: Red.

Name: Gilad Pellaeon
User: jssf1992
Species: Human
Faction: Galactic Empire
Bio: the easy way
Other: I am not completely sure where he was after The Last Command . . .
I see him as being very loyal to the Emperor, but not blindly, considering that Thrawn mention having refused to obey orders.
Post Color: gray would be fitting I suppose, but I don't think it's good for reading . . .

Other

Name: Vana Lang
User: Gorog
Species: Zeltron (can be changed for Zeltron/Human hybrid if people take issue)
Faction: Other
Bio: Her name appears in no Imperial records. The idea of an exotic seductress-assassin serving the late Emperor's whims is one many would scoff at, the stuff cheap pulp fiction thrives on. And yet Vana was just that, a faithful servant of the Emperor Palpatine known by hushed whispers in his inner court as an "Emperor's Hand." Lacking in the wild and happy-go-lucky disposition characterizing her species, Vana makes up for it with an equally depraved enthusiasm in inflicting pain and misery. The shock of losing her Master at Endor left her deaf to the Force, but still she lives to fulfill Palpatine's last wishes. Rumored to have fled underground during Isard's reign, some reports indicated a sadistic female Zeltron serving with Zsinj's Raptors. After the warlord's death, her whereabouts are known to none.
Other: She kinda has the whole Exile thing going on right now as far as her connection to the Force goes. We'll see if she gets it back.
Post Color: Bando Blue

Name: Mara Jade
User: Zaarin
Species: Human
Faction: Talon Karrde's Smuggler Alliance (New Republic affiliated)
Bio: Eeeeee-yep
Other: An ambiguously atoned former Emperor's Hand turned smuggler lieutenant turned quasi-Jedi apprentice.
Post Color: Fandango

Name: Talon Karrde
User: Zaarin
Species: Human
Faction: Talon Karrde's Smuggler Alliance
Bio: Eeeeee-yep
Other: A smuggling kingpin with a shrewd tactical mind.
Post Color: Beaver

Name: Darth Korris
User: Viceroy Billy
Species: Arkanian
Faction: Other (Korris' nascent Sith Empire, centered on Ziost and Thule)
Bio: A former Jedi, Korris was a young Knight when Order 66 hit. He and his master were on special assignment with a squad of Clone Commandos. When the order was given, both the squad of Commandos and his master were killed in the ensuing combat, while Korris was badly wounded. He went into hiding, going so far as to destroy lightsaber. Korris settled on Dantooine and began to study galactic history. When he learned that the Jedi Order was totally wiped out (he had no knowledge of any other survivors) and that the leaders of the new Empire were Sith Lords, Korris then undertook a study of the history of both the Jedi and the Sith. The feud between both sides, the constant strife, and the various defections and redemptions intrigued him greatly. Soon, this study transformed into a pilgrimage to various planets important to both the Jedi and Sith, Korriban foremost among them. After a long stay at Korriban, Korris fell thoroughly to the Dark Side and built a new lightsaber. The fall came from his consultation of a Sith holocron. His fascination with the division between Jedi and Sith continued, however. In time, he began to realize that the Jedi, somehow, always manage to overcome the Sith, even when on the brink of total annihilation, and restore the status quo. The Sith, on the other hand, rise to power through deception and corruption. Later on, this opinion would further be reinforced with the outcome of the Battle of Endor. The only option, then, for the Sith to truly strive and prosper, was to give up the dream of Galactic Empire and make peace with the Jedi, as well as the Republic.

Korris relocated to Ziost and began to gather followers to his cause. He styled himself as a Sith Lord of ancient times, like Revan, Pall and Ragnos. He desired an end to the Order of Two and a return to the old system. Due to his desire to remain hidden from both the Empire and the Rebellion, Korris' faction grew slowly. His first recruits came from bands of mercenaries and the inhabitants of Thule, especially Arkanians. After the Battle of Endor, former Imperials began to defect to his cause. By present day, Korris has built up sizable holdings in the Esstran Sector, with his capital at Ziost. His influence has spilled out (in varying degrees) to surrounding sectors. Because of the Empire's interest in the planet, Korriban is out of his reach. Although the rest of the galaxy has taken little notice of Korris, due to the various conflicts of the past ten years, several planets and systems outside these sectors have been converted to his cause. Foremost among these is Arkania, as the Arkanian species has been barred from joining the New Republic. With the Empire in disarray and the Republic growing more powerful, Korris has decided that the time is ripe to end his isolation. The first of his objectives is to open a dialogue with the Jedi and, by extension, the Republic, and the second is to win over as many Imperial leaders as he can and bring about a new Sith Empire.
Other: Because I am still disappointed that KOTOR died, I've decided to bring a similar incarnation into the fold of this RPG.
Post Color: Dark Red

Name: Presk Durr
User: Viceroy Billy
Species: Dashade
Faction: Other (Korris' Sith Empire)
Bio: An oddity among his people, Presk Durr was one of the few Dashade that possessed both a connection to the Force and his species' natural resistance to it. Presk grew up on a small Dashade colony on the outskirts of the Unknown Regions, its environment not unlike Tatooine. In the aftermath of the Jedi Purge, the Dashade became desired as assassins and agents of the Empire and, soon enough, Imperial ships began forcibly recruiting from Presk's colony. Presk's people, fearful that they would be perceived as a threat to the Empire due to his connection to the Force, exiled him. Presk survived in the desert, alone, for most of his early life. In time, however, the Empire found him. In order to avoid capture, he stole a shuttle and began travelling from planet to planet in the Outer Rim, never completely safe from being discovered. After the Battle of Endor, Presk settled on Thule, believing that the Empire would be too busy to look for him any longer. This is where Korris found him. The Dashade's connection to the Force was weak, but Korris sensed his potential nonetheless. Korris offered him power and, as Presk had nothing to look forward to besides quiet life as an exile, took him up on the offer.

As there are few with a connection to the force in Korris' Empire, Presk became a dedicated apprentice and subordinate. Due to the inherent weakness in his connection to the Force, he is only on par with the average Jedi's level of skill in the Force, an amateur compared to Masters and skilled Jedi Knights. Due to Korris' desire to see peace between the Jedi and Sith, Presk has been trained in an unconventional manner, incorporating elements of training from both styles, although he is most definitely a Sith in attitude. He has been trained by Korris not only to be an apprentice, but also to be an agent and assassin. Because of this, Presk has emphasized the abilities most useful to him in these roles and has discarded others as weak or without purpose. Despite these faults, he is deadly with a double-bladed lightsaber, and combined with his Force resistance and Korris' training, is a powerful operative. Soon enough, Presk will be tasked with one of Korris' most critical missions.
Other: Revived from KOTOR to be Korris' agent in the galaxy. Also, I stole sections of his bio from that RPG.
Post Color: Dim Gray

Proud Bearer of the Imperial Legion of SWU's Distinguished Newbie Award
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Someone needs to get a hold of Ocelot and put the NJO Mod Project back on the road.
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Replies:

Kongou Dess
Moff
(id: Moff Yittreas)

posted 02-02-13 03:53 PM EDT (US) 1 / 15

Night on Byss was a technicality, a concept born on other worlds where stars were segregated into near and far. Buried in the heart of the Deep Core, countless suns blazed in the blue-green sky regardless of the local hour. Only a dip in overall luminosity marked dawn from dusk, height of day from dead of night.

According to a photometer, it was never truly dark on Byss. One could always read a flimsi outside. And yet, Byss was cloaked another kind of darkness altogether. It could not be measured by machines or read upon metered dials and gauges. But it could felt by all twenty billion inhabitants of the secret Imperial capital. It surrounded and penetrated the planet itself, permeating and defiling everything upon, within, and around the striped planet. Its mines, factories, banks, and government centers thrummed around the 31-hour clock every day for six standard years, fed by the never-ending light to feed the even more eternal darkness.

If the instrument existed to gauge and track the darkness, to follow it to the center, it would be drawn to a sleek, mushroom-capped structure atop a slender stalk. The metallic surface glinted a dim, bloody red where the light struck it correctly. It was not the largest building in the capital; the colossal freight complex that bridged the surface and the heavens won that title. But it immediately invoked a feeling of dread and awe in those who dared cast their eyes upon it.

It wasn't the armament that bristled on and around the mighty citadel. It wasn't the legions of men, some in familiar white armor, some in foreboding crimson robes, or the silent giants of men who stalked about the grounds with a trail of palpable darkness in their wake. It wasn't even the whispers that circulated even in this loyalist stronghold, tales of magic and machine twisting creatures--and men--into unnatural abominations. It was the man that directed the creation of the abominations, the man that seemed to control the legions as an extension of his very will.

The man at the center of the darkness.

Palpatine--once born of a noble house on a distant backwater called Naboo, having forsaken the name his parents had given him, cast into a pit of raging hellfire, and then reborn in a transparisteel tank--drank in the fear, the dread, the terror, and the darkest emotions of his subjects. His spirit had recovered well since Vader's treachery over the Sanctuary Moon.

However, his reflection in the silvered densecris mirror showed that his body--much like the last few--was incapable of keeping up. He ran a hand across his face, noting with minor amusement that he now wore the face that had begun the process of casting down the corrupt Republic and the hated Jedi. His hair had silvered and thinned through the night, though a few tufts of his youthful red remained. His face, boyish and young all too recently, had become deeply lined.

The face of the last Chancellor of the Old Republic looked back at Emperor Palpatine. Well, almost. The grandfatherly visage in so many educational and history texts was marred by burning irises of crimson and gold. Palpatine could not help that; he remained steeped in the Dark Side at all times. And he had no need to mask himself behind a kind face any longer.

Palpatine strode out of his private chambers--noting with familiar irritation that his legs, knees, and ankles lacked the power and flexibility that they'd possessed just a week earlier--and into the private lift that serviced his living quarters. A red-robed guard stood within. Palpatine sensed his thoughts, his presence in the Force. "Operations level, Jax."

Guardsman Carnor Jax silently entered the code for operations, the doors hissed shut, and Palpatine smiled at the thought that he was now one day closer to casting down the Rebel scum and their pathetic "new" Republic.

Purveyor of the Poi | Deliverer of Desu | Weeaboo Brony Conserative - The Ultimate Foe to the Internet
Lord Sipia: "THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN SIPPY IS EXCLUDED! EVERYBODY LOSES THEIR SANITY" | Also Lord Sipia: "...Of course. Prepare the butter."
Hi, I'm Kongou! Are you my admiral?

[This message has been edited by Moff (edited 03-17-2013 @ 03:36 PM).]

Gorog
Clone Trooper
(id: Bando_Gora1138)

posted 02-03-13 00:43 AM EDT (US) 2 / 15

CORUSCANT
LUKE SKYWALKER

Twilight cascaded through the horizon of durasteel and permacrete skyscrapers like a reddish sap seeping through an insect honeycomb. The collective hum of thousands of airspeeders, ships, generators and machines at work reverberated through the air, the cacophony of an artificial wilderness. Like a gargantuan, nocturnal creature slowly waking from its slumber, the countless lights of various buildings, holo-displays and streets began to activate, drowning out whatever natural light from the stars penetrated the atmosphere's pollutants.

From eclipsed surface to towering monolith to suborbital platform, the world teemed with life. The myriad throngs of sentient beings going about their routine in tandem, like worker drones in a hive, together with the untold beasts of the underworld, gave the impression of a river gushing forth constantly in the Force. Despite nearly all native flora being wiped out eons ago, the Force was as strong here as the any verdant forest of Kashyyyk or sea of Mon Calamari. It was within this reverie that Jedi acolyte Luke Skywalker submersed himself, meditating from a balcony of the old Imperial Palace in an effort to discern the will of the galaxy's beating heart.

Six years after Endor and the Empire was on retreat. The galactic capital lay firmly in the hands of the freedom fighters, and a New Republic had been born to establish justice and liberty in the wake of the old order's oppression. Yet still, the wounds of decades of civil war and dark powers at work echoed in the Force, not-quite-scars that could open again at any moment. Balance was a precarious thing.

As he let the Force expand his mind and his senses, Luke allowed himself to dwell on a few of the sensations he felt. The hunger that drove an orphan of the underworld to steal to have a mere morsel to eat that day. The anxiety of the everyday citizen mulling about in the Temple Precinct, wondering how long the stability would last before the planet-city knew another battle. The ecstatic pleasure of a streetwalker in the lower levels, getting her high in between clients. The freedom of a hawk-bat, ignorant to the plight of the sentients below. The tension that permeated from the Palace itself.

Interrupting these visions came a cold shiver down Luke's spine, and the impression of a darkness reaching out, quickly eclipsing all light and warmth around him. For a moment, Luke felt sick to his stomach, and a cackle echoed in his mind. A pair of sickly yellow eyes watched him.

A hand on his shoulder drew him back to the present. Behind him, Leia Organa Solo, Republic Councillor and Minister of State, eyed her brother with a look of concern.

"It's fine," Luke muttered with a reassuring smile. "Startled me, is all."

"Doesn't seem very Jedi-like to be caught unawares," Leia responded, raising an eyebrow with a look that suggested Luke might have just told her that humans were descended from Kowakian monkey-lizards.

"How was the council meeting?" asked Luke, eager to change the subject and take his mind off the disturbing vision.

"About as productive as usual," Leia replied exasperatedly in a tone that said she might as well have taken a personal day on the slopes of the Manarai Mountains. "Admiral Harrsk's forces have been spotted near Ord Mantell. It seems like Black Sun is buying slaves out of old prisons that the Empire doesn't have the time or creds to support. All another day in the life of a public servant." Leia again placed her hand on her brother's shoulder. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"Nothing a good meal won't solve," smiled Luke again, walking in an embrace with his sister.

"Good, Winter was wondering if she should prepare an extra seat at the table..."

Admiral Fyyar
Clone Trooper

posted 02-03-13 06:30 AM EDT (US) 3 / 15

OOC: Hope it's okay I use Palps shortly!

Fondor system, Tapani sector

The Allegiance, flagship of Fleet Admiral Horton, came out of Hyperspace accompanied by the hulking dreadnought Panthac and four smaller Star Destroyers. The bridge of the Allegiance, silent just a moment ago, became a hotbed of activity as the sensors quickly reported the numbers and positions of the Rebel forces arrayed around Fondor.
Horton leaned forward in his command chair to study the scans, and before the sensor officer could say anything, he smiled. �Rebel forces as expected.� And the Rebel force was quite large. Coupled with the trio of formidable Golan III defense platforms protecting the shipyards the Rebels were more than strong enough to fight off a direct assault on the planet by Horton�s fleet. Fortunately, that was in no way Horton�s plan.

�We have visual confirmation of the Radiant, sir.�
�Excellent. You have your orders.� Horton replied. The Mon Cal Cruiser Radiant was the flagship of Rebel Admiral Kre�fey, an ag�ng Bothan commander that Horton had battled on several occasions during his defense of the Tapani sector. And bested.
Horton had long ago learned that Kre�fey was a competent but conservative tactician. He would always play it safe rather than risk his ships in creative maneuvers. And that was a fundamental part of Horton�s plan. Horton was taking a considerable risk here, but it was looking promising.
They were still quite far out of range of the guns of Fondor�s defense forces and the Star Destroyers took up positions around the Allegiance and the Panthac. Kre�fey was maneuvering his many capital ships in line with the Golan platforms, presenting a daunting, unified front for any attacker.
�All guns ready, Admiral,� reported Captain Ellion from the Panthac.
�Fire!�
The massive guns of the two battleships opened up and sent their first wave of heavy Turbolaser bolts against the enemy forces. More precisely the leftmost Golan platform. The bolts were absorbed by the powerful shields of the defense platforms. Undeterred, the warships fired the second volley.

Normally Horton never risked the Panthac, a massive Mandator III-class Star Dreadnought, in direct attacks on Rebel worlds and forces. It was usually stationed above Tallaan as the cornerstone of the Tallaani shipyards� defense and Horton preferred the much smaller and nimbler battlecruiser Allegiance, an oversized Star Destroyer with a very advanced set of communications and targeting systems, as his command ship when he engaged the Rebels. This time, however, Horton had decided to employ the Panthac because of its massive firepower, unrivaled in the entire region. In return for using the Star Dreadnought Horton had left a complement of his Star Destroyers amongst the Dreadnaught cruisers that made up the bulk of Tallaan�s defense forces under the command of his right hand man, Commodore Cryax.
The Panthac as well as the Allegiance had guns larger than any found in the Rebel forces defending Fondor, and this was a central part of Horton�s plan.

Even though Horton had been successful defending the Tapani from Rebel incursions for five years while most other Imperial holdings in the Galaxy were in disarray, he was now worried what would happen. Grand Admiral Thrawn�s counteroffensive had pushed back the Rebels, but now Thrawn was dead and Horton had even lost some Star Destroyers in the process. The Rebels had already begun a new wave of assaults against Imperial worlds, and Horton feared he would soon be overwhelmed. So he had decided to keep the Rebel forces in the region off-balance by attacking Fondor�s defenses, which Horton hoped would make the Rebels divert a larger share of their forces to defending the planet and its shipyards, which were invaluable to the Rebel war effort.
The loss of the Fondor shipyards would be a massive victory to Horton, but he knew he did not have sufficient forces for that, unless he wanted to sacrifice most of his fleet. What Horton was aiming for was smaller: the destruction of the three Golan III platforms. And he had just what he needed to make it happen. Since his two battleships� range of fire surpassed any other in the region, he could just lean back as the furious batteries of the Panthac and Allegiance rained death on the platforms, with the Rebel ships powerless to resist unless they decided to engage Horton�s fleet head on.

Horton kept his eye on the Rebel fleet, still holding the line behind the defense platforms while the platforms were pounded by heavy Turbolaser fire. Golan III platforms had impressive shields, but even those would not last against a prolonged, concentrated barrage. Horton�s Star Destroyers were just standing by idly; ready to deploy fighter screens if the Rebels began charging them. But he really did not think Kre�fey would do it. The Bothan had parked his cruisers in conventional shield-sharing formations. As defensive as ever. However, if Kre�fey decided to do it, the battle would develop into a massive brawl. One in which Horton�s fleet had a decisive advantage because of the range and the sheer amount of firepower of the Star Dreadnought, but it could prove costly. If he lost just a pair of Star Destroyers his strategic mobility would be greatly reduced and he�d be forced to wait out Rebel assaults, which would probably just grow in intensity over time.

But that was irrelevant for now. The Rebel fleet held its position behind the Golans, the leftmost of which was beginning to lose its shields. A moment later they collapsed and the Turbolaser bolts began to impact against various points on the armor, blowing up portions in massive fireballs. Against the combined firepower of the Panthac and the Allegiance even the strong armor of a Golan platform offered no resistance, and the platform began falling apart.

As the Golan platform exploded the fireball engulfed a pair of smaller Rebel warships, and a portion of the Rebel line was thrown into disarray. Horton could only imagine the chaos on the Rebel bridges, especially on the Radiant. Admiral Kre�fey was probably under great pressure to do something. With the Rebels� lack of respect for the chain of command, there were probably screaming in the Bothan�s face. Meanwhile the two battleships shifted their fire to the central Golan platform, and not a single Rebel shot had hit Horton�s fleet yet. It was almost too easy.

Two minutes later the second Golan began to crack, but then something happened. �We�ve got major Cronau behind us!� yelled the sensor officer, �twelve ships!� Horton�s face whitened, but then the sensor officer said, �one Mon Cal, four corvettes and seven bulk freighters.�
A convoy! How fortunate.
Horton held up his hand, �time to wrap this up. Turn around and get us to the exit point.� Horton would not risk getting caught in-system if more forces were on their way, so he decided it was better to exterminate the convoy instead. Besides, they�d already blown up a Golan III and heavily damaged another one.

The fleet began to turn and the aft batteries of the Panthac were already pounding on the incoming force. Obviously the incoming convoy had not been warned of the attack, which was a good sign. That meant Horton would probably not be pinned down by any more Rebel reinforcements.
As fire began raining down on the convoy the Mon Cal Cruiser moved in to shield the bulk freighters. �They have heart, one must give them that�, Horton muttered to himself. But it would not save them. Even though it was one of the newest models with greatly reinforced shielding, that Mon Cal Cruiser would not last long.

Within six minutes the Mon Cal Cruiser, the corvettes and six of the seven bulk freighters had been destroyed and Horton�s fleet was making ready for Hyperspace. The main Rebel fleet under Kre�fey was preoccupied with picking up the pieces of the broken Golan platforms and had not initiated any form of attack. It was then Horton began considering whether Kre�fey was that conservative or that the old Bothan was simply scared of Horton. Granted, he had managed to outfight several Rebel commanders and taken down approximately nineteen major Rebel capital ships while only losing three himself over the last five years, so maybe they really feared him.

The Allegiance jumped into Hyperspace along with the rest of the fleet, leaving behind a pair of large holes in Fondor�s defense and a ruined convoy full of assumingly critical supplies without the loss of any Imperial ships. Horton was greatly satisfied, although this would probably mean the Rebels would find another admiral for the area, given how Kre�fey had been totally paralyzed.

This ought to give Horton�s forces some breathing space.

Tallaan

Horton�s fleet had just returned to Tallaan. The Panthac was moving into its usual position in the defense of the shipyards and the five Star Destroyers normally attached to Horton�s personal fleet were moving to rendezvous with the Allegiance and the four other Star Destroyers parked in orbit of Tallaan�s moon. With a considerable hole punched in Fondor�s defenses the Rebels would probably concentrate on fortifying Fondor for the foreseeable future. Horton�s gamble had worked.

But this was just buying time. For years the Rebels had gained ground in the galaxy and were now by far the strongest unified force. With most of the Core under their control and thereby in possession of a massive industrial advantage, it would really only be a matter of time before they conquered the entire galaxy. Especially since the Empire�s forces were so fragmented. And few. Horton wondered where many of the Empire�s ships and good men had gone. Had they really all perished in battle with the Rebels or the damned infighting between warlords?

Horton was pondering the questions in his personal quarters while studying strategic information on his holoprojector. Suddenly the face of the comm officer appeared above the projector. �Incoming message, sir. The� encryption is Royal Red Standard, sir.� The officer didn�t seem to believe himself.
�What?!� Horton didn�t believe it either.
�Royal Red Standard, sir. Absolutely certain.�
No messages with the Royal Red Standard encryption had been sent out for years, ever since the fateful day at Endor. For the very simple reason that the Royal Red Standard was the Emperor�s personal code that only he could operate. No had ever managed or perhaps intended to replicate it, not even Pestage, Isard or Thrawn.
Well, only one thing to do. When you got a Royal Red Standard message, you answered it immediately. Even if its only operator had been dead for almost six years.

The holoprojector shifted to an image that caused Horton�s eyes to widen. An unmistakable hooded figure. Horton instinctively fell to his knees.
�Admiral Horton,� the figure said.
�Yes, Your Highness.�
�Your loyal service even in my absence has been noted. I have great use for men like you. Go to Byss in the Deep Core with your flagship at once. All authorities have been notified of your arrival.�
�As you wish, Your Highness.�
The image disappeared, but Horton remained in kneeling position. The Emperor� could it be?

Shaking, he pressed the comm button: �Captain Frej, take the Allegiance to Byss in the Deep Core immediately. Inform Commodre Cryax that he is in full command until we return. That was all.�

ADMIRAL FYYAR
The RPG & Election Ruiner
Lord Fooby & Lord Fyyarby '09 - The Superior Choice

[This message has been edited by Admiral Fyyar (edited 02-06-2013 @ 05:27 PM).]

Kongou Dess
Moff
(id: Moff Yittreas)

posted 02-11-13 06:34 PM EDT (US) 4 / 15

Blue smoke drifted directly into the grilled exhaust intake from pursed lips. Then the nearly-spent cigarette took its place between them. One final drag made the tip glow orange, then the coffin nail was snuffed out in an ashtray. The final puff went into the air recycling system, then Commander Ams Jendob turned away.

The scent of tabac wasn't totally whisked away by the air circulation. Jendob didn't particularly care. He fastened up his Navy green tunic, then wrapped the broad, black belt around his waist. He returned to the refresher a moment, sea green eyes examining the reflection in the silvered denscris. The commander straightened his gig line, then covered his dark hair with the standard-issue cap. He walked past the sleeping quarters and into his small, personal office. Snatching the black gloves from his desk, he spared himself a moment to gaze out of the viewport while he finished dressing to regulation.

The world Empress Teta hung below, its capital Cinnabar straddling the terminator. On the dark side, city lights twinkled up through the atmosphere. The leading edge of the light vanished into glare. Looking off to the side, Jendob could make out the thin crescent of one of the Tetan moons, its surface faintly illuminated by its glowing rings.

Gloves on, Jendob turned on his heel and exited his quarters. On a Star Destroyer, his room would've been fit for the flight control officer or chief engineer. But space was tight aboard the six-hundred meter, six hundred thousand tonne Paladin, a Vindicator class heavy cruiser. With a wing of Sienar Fleet Systems' TIE-series fighter docked aboard and nearly three thousand officers, crew, and ground troops, Jendob and the Paladin were charged with holding down the Byss Run while Palpatine planned his offensive. The small, nimble, and unassuming cruiser was ideal for guarding a secret entrance to the secret hyperspace route to Byss. It had the fighter complement to deal with any normal Rebel scouting party, and could even hold off a recon in force. The on-board guns let it take down frigates and smaller cruisers with ease, and it could run away from just about anything it couldn't kill.

The last part was a sentiment Jendob could relate to quite well. For six years, he did the Empire's wetwork as an operative of the Adjustment Bureau. Most of what he did was internal policing, much to the chagrin and annoyance of ISB plants. He'd done a few infiltrations of the Rebellion directly, though never much past the local resistance group. At most, he'd topple a general with delusions of grandeur. In reflective moments, he'd occasionally wondered if he'd done the terrorists as much of a service as the Empire with some of his work. But his had not been to question why.

Then Endor happened. The Empire that Jendob had tried to defend was undone by a pack of animate plush toys supporting Rebel terrorists. Flint knives and stone spears impossibly overwhelmed ceramic armor, lightspeed communications, and energy rifles. And then what became of the troopers killed and captured by the hellish little beasts... of course, the cannibalistic tendencies of the Ewoks after the battle tended to be neglected from Rebel propaganda.

Acknowledging a salute from a passing crewman, Jendob entered the nearest lift. The motors rumbled and carried the car towards the command deck. Part of him resented the assignment, being out of the field. How he'd dreamed of sighting down a rifle, peering through a high-power telescopic sight and setting the crosshairs squarely between the eyes of Mon Mothma, Organa Solo, Ackbar, or Madine. A squeeze of the trigger, the kick of the stock into his shoulder, and watching what remained of the target's head snap back as a fine mist of blood, brain, and ash settled on their shoulders. Even if he'd never make it out, it would at least be a good way to die.

The lift doors hissed aside, and the commander stepped onto the cramped bridge of his cruiser. The ship was Sienar-built, unlike her larger Kuati cousins. That at least affording Jendob a chair at the center of the room. Around were control consoles, staffed by officers and noncoms. Computers hummed, buttons beeped and there was the soft chatter of intraship communications.

�Commander on deck!�

Jendob didn't spare a glance at the black-clad sentry in the broad helmet that announced him. He simply strode past, meeting the night-watch officer that had snapped upright with the naval guard's herald. �Anything to report?�

�No, sir,� the lieutenant replied crisply, handing Jendob a datapad. �Recon probes recorded no hyperspace ingress. Com-Scan is clear. CAP also reports no unusual activity.�

The commander nodded. �Very well.� He keyed through a display screens before looking up. The lieutenant still stood there, back ramrod straight. �You're relieved, Lieutenant.�

The junior officer bowed stiffly at the neck before departing the bridge. Jendob walked toward the chair, flipping through the overnight status reports. He was at the maintenance section when he took his seat, cast a glance out over the bridge, then turned back to the pad.

He had a feeling it was going to be a very long, very routine day.

Admiral Fyyar
Clone Trooper

posted 02-11-13 06:50 PM EDT (US) 5 / 15

Coruscant

Mon Mothma felt better than she had for years. With Thrawn dead and the Imperials on the run, things were starting to brighten for the New Republic. Krennel and Isard had been dealt with and full scale rebuilding of the Core and parts of the rest of the Galaxy could finally commence. There were warlords and Imperial holdouts lurking out there, but they all looked minor compared to what the New Republic had already faced. They had surely come a long way from those early days of scattered resistance to Palpatine�s iron grip. She had personally come an even longer way from her days as Senator of the Old Republic to Chief of State of the New Republic

She folded a few pieces of flimsiplast and put them on top of her datapad and looked out at the Coruscanti twilight. She would never learn to care for all that urban sprawl, she preferred Chandrilla�s calm and serenity, but she had learned to live with it long ago. It bothered her more that the huge building in which she sat continued to be called Imperial Palace. Apparently that could simply not be changed no matter what the New Republic did.

As she was getting up from her chair at the council table the holoprojector kicked into action again. An image of Admiral Ackbar, the Supreme Commander of the New Republic Defense Force, filled out the air above the center of the council table. The Mon Cal�s expression was solemn, she could clearly see that.
�Gial, my friend, what has happened?�
�We have just received reports from Fondor. That damned Admiral Horton struck our positions there, destroying a Golan III and critically damaging another as well as taking down an entire incoming convoy with escort. Also, Admiral Kre�fey has suffered a nervous breakdown.�
Mothma shook her head, thinking of all those lives lost.
�And worse yet, Horton used the Star Dreadnought he had previously kept at Tallaan for the attack. A bold move, even for him. We have nothing in the region that can match that ship. Fondor�s defenses have been significantly weakened, and without the convoy all major shipbuilding activities will be somewhat delayed. �
�So you are diverting some ships there?� Ackbar didn�t need the approval of the Chief of State to make strategic decisions, but he always made a point of informing Mon Mothma of his major dispositions.
�I deem it necessary to take the Champion of Liberty from her station at Kuat and deploy her at Fondor along with a pair of Bulwarks from Ralltiir and Duro,� the Champion was a dreadnought handed over to the New Republic by Kuat after the planet�s surrender, �and I intend to replace Admiral Kre�fey with Admiral Nammo.�
�That seems as a sensible disposition. When things have settled a bit more, I suppose you will be organizing an effort to finally drive him out of the Tapani sector?�
Ackbar just nodded, stood there silently for a few seconds, and then said, �I must return to my duties now.�
�And I to mine. May the Force be with you, my friend.�

Despite all their successes, it was a long road ahead. At least they were now facing threats of only local and regional kinds, not the galactic ones they had fought with all the strength they could muster for two decades.

ADMIRAL FYYAR
The RPG & Election Ruiner
Lord Fooby & Lord Fyyarby '09 - The Superior Choice

Emissary of the Prophets
Clone Trooper
(id: Admiral Zaarin)

posted 02-11-13 07:20 PM EDT (US) 6 / 15

University of Sanbra
Dr. Anna Durham strode briskly into her office. She was young, beautiful, and probably the best expert on the ancient Jedi to be found. It might strike one then as ironic that she was a devoted supporter of the Empire, even though she lived on a New Republic world and begrudgingly held New Republic citizenship. To her mind, the ancient Jedi would surely have supported Palpatine and the orderly government he had created.

Anna had just returned from doing field work on Ossus, for in addition to her degrees in history and xenoanthropology she was also a noted archaeologist. She had just made two very important finds: a lightsaber, amazingly still functional, that she had tentatively identified as having belonged to Jedi Master Arca Jeth and, what was far more valuable, an intact Jedi holocron! Anna looked wistfully at the crystalline cube sitting on her desk--unfortunately, holocrons would only activate for the Force-sensitive.

Anna sat down at her desk and brought up the HoloNet. She opened a new message and wrote:

To the attention of self-proclaimed "Jedi Master" Luke Skywalker:
Allow me to introduce myself. I am Dr. Anna Durham, archaeologist and historian specializing in the Jedi. I have recently come into possession of a Jedi holocron from the planet Ossus, an ancient library-world of the Jedi. While I am highly skeptical of the validity of your claim to be a Jedi master, I am well-convinced of your aptitude with the Force. With my academic expertise and your Force-sensitivity, we both stand to profit if you would arrange to visit my office at the University of Sanbra.
Sincerely,
Dr. Anna Durham, PhD
University of Sanbra, Sanbra

Anna leaned back. The thought of handing over knowledge like this to one of the most prominent of the Rebel riffraff was appalling, but she considered it a sacrifice for the greater good. She unfortunately was unfamiliar with any Force-capable Imperials, nor even any neutral ones. Dealing with this Rebel was the lesser evil compared to not finding out what information the holocron might carry.

Zaarin | Creator of Coruscant Life SE
deviantArt | New Campaign Coming ~~Soon~~
"But if of ships I now should sing, what ship would come to me,
What ship would bear me ever back across so wide a Sea?�
"And now the moon, earth's friend, that cared so much/for us, and cared so little, comes again�/always a stranger!"--Robert Lowell, "The Public Garden"

Kongou Dess
Moff
(id: Moff Yittreas)

posted 02-12-13 12:42 PM EDT (US) 7 / 15

Clear liquid sloshed in the peculiar, wide-mouthed glass as Jendob brought it to his lips. The astringency of the Shesharilian vodka pricked at his nose while its frigidity penetrated the glass and had numbed his fingertips in the short journey from tabletop to the edge of his lip.

The commander sipped, noting the punch of the vodka was ever-so-slightly mediated by the absolute sparest quantity of vermouth needed to render it "medium-dry." He just began to tilt the stem of the glass, allowing the freezing concoction to seep past his lips and onto his tongue when the intercom buzzed. Jendob quickly removed the martini glass to his desk, swallowed the small quantity of frigid alcohol--which burned its way down in revenge for being gulped like a fraternity punch--and pressed the acknowledgement button.

"What is it?" He was off-duty, damn it. What couldn't the XO handle?

"Captain, we've intercepted some kind of transmission. Low-grade hyperwave signal, unknown encryption."

The commander was on his feet as soon as the executive officer finished saying "intercept." His jacket was refastened and he was in the hatchway when the officer completed his second sentence. "On my way."

Just as well. Too much vermouth.

[This message has been edited by Moff (edited 02-12-2013 @ 12:42 PM).]

Admiral Fyyar
Clone Trooper

posted 03-07-13 11:23 AM EDT (US) 8 / 15

Allegiance, Byss

Horton could hardly believe his eyes. They had left Hyperspace close to a world located far into the Deep Core, a world with a name every Imperial knew, but a name shrouded in mystery. Byss. And here it was. No matter what it had been in the greatest days of the Empire, it was now a fortress world without any fathomable equal.

Hundreds, maybe thousands, of warships orbited the planet. There were ships of all kinds. Horton turned around and looked at his equally stunned sensor officer, "any ships in the databank?"
"Nothing but, sir," he projected the ID codes to the main screen, "there's the Javelin, Vengeance-class. Malignant, Bellator-class. At least fifty different ISD's we know, many VSD's... and right there," he zoomed in, "is our own sister ship, the Gauntlet. Looks like she's directing inbound traffic, sir."
Horton shook his head.
"We've also got a pair of huge dreadnoughts we don't know, and there's the Whelm, sir!"
"So that's what happened to her," Horton muttered.

The Whelm was a sister ship of the Executor that had disappeared for its station above Anaxes before Thrawn's campaign and prompted the planet's surrender to the Rebels. So it had been called here. Then Admiral Kiez, the last known commander of the vessel and Horton's old mentor, was probably here too.

It was a completely overwhelming sight. And it gave Horton hope. With this force coupled with the loyal elements in the Rim, the Rebels would soon be crushed!
"You are called to the planet, sir."

Byss - two hours later

The magnificent citadel's massive rooms were such a sight to see. This really looked like the new heart of the Empire. A dark, powerful heart.
He had been informed to go to see the Grand Vizier directly, and he was wondering who the Emperor had found to replace Sate Pestage, who had showed himself disloyal after his Emperor's death.

A massive pair of doors opened, and Horton was staring into a huge office. In the center of the room sat a man in ornate robes, his head slightly tilted.
Horton made a deep bow, "Your Excellency."
The man rose and a familiar voice said, "ah, Fleet Admiral Horton." Was it?

As he ended his bow, Horton could look the Grand Vizier in the face, and it really was Pestage! But he had met his end in the Rim!
Pestage chuckled darkly, "surely, you did not expect me to be alive. You are a well informed one, but rest assured that I am fully alive and well to serve the Emperor. Are you?"
"I live to serve the Emperor, Your Excellency."
He chuckled again, "yes, yes you do indeed. And you have fought for him. We know all about your exploits. Especially your efforts at the Battle of the Whistling Buoys and over Deep Ullem greatly impressed His Majesty. You make Rebel commanders cower in fear and exploit their weakness."
"Thank you, Your Excellency."
"He is waiting for you, Fleet Admiral, to tell you himself."
"The... The Emperor?!" Horton had never met the Emperor before.
The dark chuckle returned, "indeed. Just walk right that way."

With the stiffest steps he had ever made, Horton walked through a set of doors and found himself standing in front of the most impressive gate he had ever seen. As the gate to the Imperial Throne Room started to move, Horton swallowed one last time before meeting his Majesty.

ADMIRAL FYYAR
The RPG & Election Ruiner
Lord Fooby & Lord Fyyarby '09 - The Superior Choice

Scholomancer
Clone Trooper
(id: Solomon)

posted 03-14-13 07:18 PM EDT (US) 9 / 15

Coruscant

The meeting room held an amphitheatre raised above the meeting room for a small audience of aides and members who were cleared for listening in to the discussion. Among the aides, advisors and military officers sat Han, Chewbacc, and Lando. Despite the conversation still sputtering below, Han knew that Mon Mothma's Inner Council had already made their decision. Beside him were his life long friends, Chewbacca and Lando Calrissian. Among the members of the Council below was Leia, his wife.

From here, Han examined her profile and her spirit. The mother of the kids he once thought he'd never had. Now that beautiful woman was about to sent to some far corner of the galaxy, again. Lando had already jokingly asked if they were his, as the needs of the Alliance -no, the Republic, he corrected himself- spread them across the galaxy.

"Who is the Bothan?" Lando pointed out a smaller feline figure. Han squinted as he fought for recognition.

"That's.. Borsk Fey'la." Han looked at Lando. "I thought you were up on these things."

Lando shrugged uneasily. "I've been out on Nkklon longer than I thought. There's been a lot of changes in the Republic since I went out there."

"Too many," Han agreed. Below, the voices rose and fell over some point. Han could listen in avidly for nuances like some of the other audience members, but Leia would fill him in later. He settled in to wait, and to look around.

Han examined his friend, and rival on more than one romantic and business escapade. There were more lines on that carefree face, and probably more grey than Lando would care to admit, and while the eyes were harder, more mature, that wild freebooter spirit was still in those eyes. Those eyes had been harder recently though; Lando had just recently gotten over the loss of his Nkklon operations and while he did not care to admit it, and Han would never ask, Lando still felt responsible for the loss of his employees on during the raids.

And Chewbacca.. was Chewbacca. The Wookie, his friend, and the being who had more than paid back his life-debt. Chewbacca and followed him around the galaxy, far from his own home and family, and despite the love and affection he felt -but would never admit to anyone- for the Wookie, there was always a deepdown feeling of guilt for keeping him from Kashyyyk. But there was always something, some crisis or some Imperial that rose up and prevented the trip.

The discussion had ended below and was breaking up. Many of the faces looked sad, some strained, and in Admiral Ackbar's case, a look that Han had come to know as anger.

"Looks like we're giving up Coruscant," Han decided.

"Huurrn", Chewbacca said sadly.

Remember to Breathe - Dashboard Confessional
-Here I Am, and here I remain! - Leto Atreides, Dune

Emissary of the Prophets
Clone Trooper
(id: Admiral Zaarin)

posted 03-15-13 07:36 PM EDT (US) 10 / 15

Coruscant

Talon Karrde, fashionably late as usual, sauntered into the Republic meeting room, noting the anxiety that permeated the place. He saw his sometimes ally Han wave at him, but he merely nodded and took a seat in a more aloof corner of the room. Karrde didn't belong here--he was a smuggler kingpin, not a politician. If it weren't for Thrawn--Well, if it weren't for Thrawn he might not be the most powerful man in the galactic underworld--but he also wouldn't be sitting in a room full of politicians debating galactic security.

Why didn't I send Mara in for this? he thought bitterly. Of course, it had something to do with the fact that he'd practically handed over all the day-to-day operations to her, leaving himself inconveniently "available" for diplomatic meetings like this. Semi-retirement wasn't exactly paying off.

Still, it's not like Karrde had sold his soul to the New Republic. Being invited to a private meeting like this would have perks--like picking up a few relatively safe secrets worth selling. If Borsk Fey'lya didn't beat him to them. Again.

Kongou Dess
Moff
(id: Moff Yittreas)

posted 03-17-13 05:22 PM EDT (US) 11 / 15

BYSS
A dark storm whirled in Palpatine's mind as he meditated. As his first strike against the Rebel slime grew nearer, he found himself prone to grave premonitions and reflections. He supposed he could have soldiered on, pushing ahead. Part of him was restless, impatient, yearning for his revenge against the terrorists and their Jedi runt. At times, the drive to heedlessly charge ahead made it seem right, as though he were meant to dash into the fray.

But he had not thrown down the Jedi Order and the Republic they protected by acting carelessly. Despite the nearly irresistible urge to rush his plans, he took the time to meditate. He'd certainly never felt this way before. He'd considered if it was a defect in the cloning process, but the urge went beyond the mind and body. Some inexorable force, apart even from the Dark Side, was trying to pull him into rash action.

And Palpatine would know why before he suffered the indignity of another Endor.

So, he meditated. He immersed his true self deep in the Dark Side, exploring the twists and bends of time, fate, and destiny. He experienced the glorious return of the Empire. He watched, horrified, as he was undone by fate and misfortune. Shot in the back with a mere blaster, indeed.

He saw planets burn, first under Leth's new toys, then under bizarre alien ships. He saw a man in chitinous armor on a throne. He saw the death of the universe, the last proton decaying from existence.

The end of all things did not bother him. But the visions of paths where he failed, where his plans were undone by moronicly simple mistakes and twists of fate... he recognized those reckless urges being the foundation. His mind turned to Leth's so-called �Galaxy Gun.� Nearly complete, the great structure had the destructive potential of a Death Star... without ever exposing itself to attack. If he could not rule a world, he would possess its ashes. But there was a feeling of dread about the machine, of lurking danger. In some possible future, it could be his undoing. Mutinous officers? Sabotage? Or something hideously stupid, like a thermal exhaust port that just happened to attract a proton torpedo? Or perhaps a slippery floor, for all it mattered. He would be cautious with the weapon, but whipping himself into a frenzy over a loose bolt popping off and striking him would simply drive him mad. Besides, he sensed no immediate danger from the thing.

But Palpatine was still troubled. Even as his forces mustered, he sensed undercurrents of arrogance and disloyalty. Meditating on the issue only made his senses seem more attuned to the problem. Perhaps the issue was too far gone for repair. If so, Palpatine would need a contingency. Fortunately, he had a bit of experience with such matters.

The Emperor drew in a deep breath, rising from the depths of the dark maelstrom. His eyes opened, luminous yellow and briefly pained by the ambient light of datascreens. He tapped a control, bringing up the main lights in his quarters slowly, then looked toward the full-length mirror.

He was dismayed at the price his introspection had taken. He looked frailer than before, with his forehead already deeply etched. He'd taken a sallow complexion, and the flesh began to hang loose from his face. The time to transfer would be upon him soon. The body was not quite as corrupted and deformed as at the time of his first death (he mentally cursed Vader for the umpteenth time), but that day would arrive more quickly than originally planned.

Fortunately, he had an ample store of bodies, and more manufactured and reaching maturity each day. When the stars and planets died as entropy took its toll, he had every intention of watching the grand display in person. He might not have gained physical immortality, as the Sith of old may have dreamed, but his victory over death would be an acceptable compromise. After all, being bound to some artifact to chant hexes and proclamations of doom was rather useless when the first bloody half-trained Jedi apprentice with a lightsaber in hand could finish the job. And far too many great and powerful Dark Lords had met their end in just such a fashion. A small part of Palpatine was even embarrassed by the whole thing. But then, had they been true masters of the Dark Side, true Lords of the Sith... such a fate could not have befallen them. The brief flash of pity was replaced by rightful contempt and scorn. The weak perished. The strong survived. And a true Dark Lord of the Sith could not die.

The communcations terminal buzzed for attention. Palpatine mused that while true Sith could not die, they did have an unpleasant amount of busywork where they had to interface with lesser mortals. Standing, with a small amount of unsteadiness, the Emperor called his cane to his hand and messaged Pestage. Admiral Horton had just arrived in-system.

Silently banishing his earlier misgivings, Palpatine made his way to the throne room. Soon, the vast fleet of warships that practically choked the space over Byss would be sent on its way. And Coruscant would burn for its betrayal.

PALADIN
The executive officer strode confidently across the hangar catwalk and saluted crisply. Commander Jendob returned the gesture. �Report.�

�The source of the signal is a small, one-man alien craft. It appears damaged and was adrift when we located it, sir. One life sign aboard, weak. I dispatched a transport to bring the ship aboard.�

Jendob folded his arms. �I see. Any indications that it could be a Rebel ploy?�

The executive officer shook his head. �No, sir. In fact, the craft corresponds to no known Rebel craft from any part of the Galaxy. Additionally, it appears extraordinarily primitive.�

The commander's stance relaxed, slightly. Lieutenant Commander Hems would never make Grand Admiral. His competence was average, and he knew it. Taking the unknown ship aboard was not part of the formal protocol and procedure that a lackluster type like Hems had to adhere to, but the brief spark of initiative was the right call. Whatever the pilot of that craft was, Jendob had to find to out what he was doing only a few lightyears from the Tetan system. And if the pilot was aware of the massive buildup in the Deep Core, or worse, what the buildup was for, that information had to be contained.

But clearly, this pilot was injured. Possibly critically. Jendob supposed the medics had patched up some of his interrogatees so they could make it through a round of questioning in the past; this would be no different. And this apparently primitive craft could be a cover for a spy ship... or suggest the Rebellion was willing to cut some corners to thicken their numbers. Either way, new information was available that could potentially break the Imperial offensive before it began.

�Time till they're aboard?� Jendob asked.

�They were on final approach when you arrived, sir.�

As if on cue, the hangar deck loudspeakers crackled with announcements. Standard operating procedures: security detail, scan team, decon crew. Not so standard were the calls for a quarantine and medical team.

Well, let's go meet our new passenger. Jendob made his way down the steep steps, Hems close behind. The clatter of Stormtrooper armor echoed off the walls of the hangar, and as the commander turned to his left, he saw a quartet of white-armored troopers take up ready positions. Jendob gestured to the fireteam leader and made a quick hand signal. The trooper nodded and though his speech was muffled by distance, four near-simultaneous clicks of charging levers confirmed that their rifles were now set for stun.

An old Stormtrooper transport, from the Dx-9 series, settled on the deck. A deck officer and his crew rushed over, but the attention of all other hands was fixed on the battered blue and gold craft suspended in the tractor beam. The viewports were white with spiderweb cracks, and dents and gouges marred the finish. An engine pod protruded from the left side, carbon scoring on the right quickly explained why there wasn't an identical starboard pod. A fin had a hole the size of a man's head punched through it, with ragged ends of wire and piping protruding into the gap.

The quarantine team charged forward, waving their scanners about and entering data on the wristcomps of their sealed hazard suits. After a moment, the team lead waved an all-clear to the gantry office, and the mauled little ship settled to the deck. Salvage engineers from the transport rushed over, brandishing their fusion cutters. They swarmed the ship like locusts, sending sparks flying as they set about opening the canopy.

The medical team arrived with a hovergurney as the last bit of cockpit was cut free. The engineers grabbed the scarred viewport, the Stormtroopers readied their blasters. With effort, they stripped away the opaque window, leaving the rest of the deck party to gaze inside. Two figures were within, wearing armored suits and stylized helmets. For a moment, Jendob became irritated: the report had listed one life sign and, accordingly, sickbay had sent one stretcher. But then he realized that the splash of crimson on the larger alien's helmet was not a design flourish. He raised a mental eyebrow at the good fortune: the corpse would allow for more invasive medical study, enhancing their ability to repair the damaged specimen. Jendob suppressed a smirk at the thought that this might even get him his captain's bars... perhaps even a Star Destroyer command?

The medics waved their sensors over the two bodies. There was a moment of hesitation, and Jendob's gut clenched. Don't tell me the other one died...

Then the medics carefully extracted the smaller passenger and laid it upon the gurney. The basic form was humanoid, though certainly not entirely. Curiosity drove the commander to stand beside the supine form. As the scanning hookups were attached, he noted that there was something decidedly feminine about the alien's build. Strange.

The medics rolled the strange creature onto its side, noting several small puncture wounds on one side of its armor. As they did, the bizarre, fabric-encased appendages attached to its upper torso swung out. The commander pondered them. Additional arms? But there were no manipulators. Legs? Possible, but very strange from an anatomical perspective, and they were unarmored. The limbs that Jendob would have certainly called legs on the alien were armored and booted. But not these other limbs. And they showed a good deal of flexibility, too much to have extensive bone structure.

What are you? Jendob wondered, then harshly castigated himself for personalizing the creature.

The medics finished prying off a few sections of armor for the sensors, then whisked the captive off to surgery and the bacta tank. The engineers set about dismantling the craft for study. The commander climbed onto the nose of the craft, looking into the mirrored visor of the deceased alien. A few Stormtroopers looked in his direction, their expressions hidden by their masks. The engineers' eyes were covered, but few had their mouths screwed up into expressions of dubious curiosity with their captain's actions.

But Jendob wasn't out to make friends. And these were strange circumstances, they could forgive him a little curiosity as he reached out to the perforated helmet. Gingerly, he tugged at its seals until he heard the soft hiss of equalization. He lifted the helmet off of the dead alien, and nearly dropped it to the deck in shock. There were gasps from the salvage crew and a Stormtrooper.

The face staring back, with dead, white eyes, could have easily belonged to a human.

[This message has been edited by Moff (edited 04-07-2013 @ 08:57 PM).]

Kongou Dess
Moff
(id: Moff Yittreas)

posted 03-31-13 09:01 PM EDT (US) 12 / 15

Sulfurous eyes fell upon the kneeling Admiral Lucian Horton. The aged Emperor pushed himself from his throne. �Rise, Admiral.�

Horton rose and stood at attention. Palpatine took a step toward him. �The time has come, Admiral Horton. The Rebellion will be driven out of their nest and back into the void.�

The Sith Lord didn't need the Dark Side to feel the anticipation surge in Horton, nor was it needed to notice the gleam in the other man's eyes. The Imperial fleet had been seething for months as the final steps of the opening strike were put into place. Palpatine also knew that, amid the buildup, some thought they could make their own plans. In the past few months, the number of COMPNOR plants aboard naval warships had tripled, while ground forces were buttressed by the fanatically-loyal COMPForce troops. Nobody would stop him from regaining his capital. Not the Rebels, and certainly not by those who had sworn their fealty to him.

And Horton was another key to the plan. Capable, respected, and loyal... �You will lead our forces against the Rebel forces over Imperial Center,� Palpatine continued, making sure to use the preferred designation for the galactic capital. Stoking patriotic fervor in the admiral would only improve his performance. And it made dashing any hopes of independent command a softer blow. �Alongside Grand Moff Kaine and Admirals Harrsk, Holt, Kursk... and Kiez. Destroy every Rebel vessel and installation you come across. Lay waste to any sections of the planet that resist. The six of you will break the Rebellion's back and bleed them dry.

�I trust you will be able to perform your functions?�

Horton nodded stiffly. His rivalry was Kiez was not unknown to the Emperor (as few things in the Empire were), though the intensity may have been underestimated. Fortunately, Kiez was one of the questionable admirals; Palpatine had been unable to replace him for the task force due to the assets and men at his disposal. But if he attempted to move against the true Empire, Horton would be there to end any foolish enterprises. And competition and rivalry between the fleet commanders over who could spill the most Rebel blood (and thus gain the most favor with the Emperor) would only increase the savagery and destruction. �It shall be done, Your Majesty.�

�Excellent. Return to your command ship; you will depart at local dawn tomorrow.�

The admiral bowed at the neck. �As you will, Your Majesty.�

He then turned on his heel and marched out of the throne room. Palpatine returned to his throne, turning toward the holographic window. It currently showed a view from a camera on the south side of the Citadel. The city gleamed in the light of the setting sun. Soon the sun would set upon the Rebellion, as well.

And when they fell, so too would Skywalker.

[This message has been edited by Moff (edited 03-31-2013 @ 09:17 PM).]

Shifter
Clone Trooper

posted 04-09-13 10:21 PM EDT (US) 13 / 15

Juvenile parody deleted.

-Terikel

[This message has been edited by Terikel Grayhair (edited 04-10-2013 @ 01:30 PM).]

Shifter
Clone Trooper

posted 04-10-13 06:24 AM EDT (US) 14 / 15

Nonsense deleted.

-Terikel

[This message has been edited by Terikel Grayhair (edited 04-10-2013 @ 01:48 PM).]

Kongou Dess
Moff
(id: Moff Yittreas)

posted 04-28-13 03:45 PM EDT (US) 15 / 15

Well, I'll just keep pressing on with my plot... save the gaping and wonderment for the next post.

PALADIN MEDICAL BAY

The smell of bacta and antiseptic assailed Jendob's sense of smell as soon as the sickbay hatch opened. The soft, continuous hum of medical equipment and air circulators was punctuated by the beeps of vital monitors, control consoles, and a few medical assistant droids. A gentle but persistent burbling came from the intensive care section.

A moment passed before the commander cleared his throat and called out simply, �Doctor?�

A man in a green surgical uniform�which, judging from the rust-colored streaks and stains across the front, had not been changed since the previous operation�stepped out from behind the partition to the ICS. �Ah, Commander. Here to check on our patient?� Jendob nodded. �She'll survive. She'll need some time in the bacta tank, but��

The commander cocked an eyebrow. �'She'?� He had noted the rough build of the creature, but...

The chief surgeon nodded. �Ah, yes sir. I apologize; I didn't realize you hadn't seen the specimen outside of her hardsuit. The patient is definitely female, humanoid. Ferromagnetic debris recovered from puncture wounds; the computer finds it consistent with common nickel-iron asteroid material. Penetration on lower abdomen, but nothing we couldn't handle. I estimate she'll make a full recovery within a few days.�

Jendob nodded. Excellent news indeed; then he could interrogate the creature. He could almost feel the weight of a gleaming, new captain's insignia on his tunic. �Good. What of the alien's compatriot?�

�Dead on arrival, though I imagine you knew that much,� the surgeon noted. Jendob detected a faint note of admonition, a rebuke for a mere line officer contaminating one of his specimens. Well, too bloody bad. �Same species, minor puncture wounds to thoracic region, as well as one catastrophic penetrative injury to the cranium and brain.�

�And did the male provide any useful data in recovering the female?�

The doctor shrugged. �Not particularly, sir. The injuries were well away from regions of abnormality; the droids could've handled it with their optics disabled.�

�What do you mean?�

�Come over here, Commander,� the doctor walked over to a display projector. A few keystrokes generated a half-scale hologram of the live captive's med scans. Due to his previous line of work, Jendob knew a fair bit more about anatomy (and, though work-related but decidedly out of the standard training regimen, an especially in-depth familiarity with the human female anatomical features) than the average line officer. He knew pressure points to strike, nerve clusters to disable, which bones to break and which ones might have presented an unacceptable risk of secondary damage. He'd never perform invasive surgery�at least, not where survival of the patient was a goal�but his eye searched the hologram for deviations from the human norm. And aside from the strange appendages he noted earlier�and still had issues deciphering what the hologram was saying with regard to them�he could not find an appreciable difference between the creature in the bacta tank and a normal human female.

�It looks very human,� he stated.

�Oh, more than very. There are some differences, of course. The obvious, you can note at the scapulae. But then there's the not-so-obvious...� The surgeon pressed a few buttons. Flashing icons appeared over sections of muscle and bone before inset projections appeared showing the microscopic structures of the regions. However, Jendob's training was in the macroscopic body. He gave a subtle shake of his head, and the surgeon shrugged. �Deep-level manipulation of bone and muscle tissues, down to the genetic and even molecular levels.�

Red flags flashed through the commander's mind. �Is it some kind of clone?�

The surgeon emphatically shook his head. �No. But definitely genetic modification, including the scapular appendages. They are not naturally evolved. This being, and her deceased fellow, are the product of extensive genetic and environmental manipulation. Muscle density alone suggests at least fifty percent higher gravity, even without the genetic tampering. Her metabolism for certain compounds is also increased; we used three times as much anesthetic to keep her under.�

�But, how did an alien species�even with modification�come out so... human,� the commander wondered aloud.

�One didn't.�

�Then?�

�Genetic analysis suggests that, before the modifications, these people were absolute baseline humans. In fact, some markers hint they could've been the early settled worlds of humanity. Maybe even Coruscant itself.�

Jendob took a step back from the hologram. If that were true�and his mind struggled just to leap that hurdle�then this was no alien. It was some kind of abomination; a warping of human essence. But to what end?

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