Duel Chaff from the Wheat

[Lord Creuat]

E X E C U T O R
ECLIPSE​

A new age had arrived. Opportunity was more now than ever. One, however, had to seize it in order to meld the future to their own whims. Atrisia remained intact, yet it was a pyrrhic victory for the Jedi and their Alliance. Like glass they shattered with no hope to undo the damage. The Empire like clockwork hurried with strategies to consume what was now a monument to history.

The Emperor was dormant with his occult practices, thus trusting leadership to his subordinates during his absence. For the Nautolan, however, it meant a new stepping stone for his quest for power.

And here he would begin awaiting for his subjects, the Dark Side Elite, at the head chambers of the citadel constructed for the Elite as a means to mock the Jedi.

 

[Imperius Indomitus]

LORD INDOMITUS
Through Fire and Blood.
Through Justice and Strength.
On the Anvil of War, We forge our Destiny.

Lord Creuat | Open

INFERO​

Eclipse | Citadel | Head Chambers

The call was made. They answered the summon.

With a hiss the doors slided open, Imperius just lowering His right arm from the console that opened the way into the chambers and stepped in. Sabatons clanking, deliberately slow and measured were the steps. A helmet with tall wings was in His left hand, neatly tucked into His armpit. The red tabard brushed against the floor, ever so slightly, its lower end showing the dirt it had collected, soiling the deep red and gold it had embroiled. Beneath was an armor of matte black, its edges with gilded highlights, a dragon head as the left pauldron.

"Executor." Came the calm voice of the tall Sith Pureblood accompanied by a brief and stiff bow of His chest, the black eyes remaining on the alien.

Imperius did not know the man in front of Him very well, but it was obvious that both passion and strength ran through his veins. One step below the Emperor, the Executor was the individual that upon His return, the Zakuulan sought to get to know. The only member of the Council that might have been worthwhile at this very moment.

 

[Casi Braste]

Lord Creuat Imperius Indomitus​

Casi strode into the room with the stern look on her face. It appeared she was early, compared to the rest of the Elites. She hoped that meant extra points with the Lord-Executor, but really she knew it meant nothing. Lord Crueat was the hard-ass of all hard-asses, and it was no secret she didn't like him. It was no secret that she didn't like any of the other Elites, she practically wore it on her face, a constant look of cold disdain. There was little emotion in her otherwise, the void of loss all consuming. She had chuckled after escaping the Death Star, watching it explode from the viewport of the Sepulcher, but that was the extent of what she had felt lately. Any hatred towards the Empire in that moment had subsided with the realization of what the Death Star's destruction had actually meant. She wasn't too eager to be arrive to the call from the Lord-Executor, given that the Elites had utterly failed in their mission at Atrisia.

She didn't say a word, only stepping up to the other man, one whom she had never seen before. The only clue she had of the man as she sized him up was that he was extravagant. Gilded, decorated armor made him look imposing, even without his tall stature playing as a factor, but compared to her austere black robes, it looked almost comically flamboyant. She wondered if he was from the Church, or even a Sith Lord, and she wondered what had brought him here. What had brought any of them to the Dark Side Elite, but fear of the overwhelming power of the Dark Side, and a yearning for greater power at their fingertips...

 

[Krasskorr the Maw]

FOOD: Lord Creuat Casi Braste Imperius Indomitus

​

To have lived through the Imperial defeat over Atrisia, he mused bitterly, only to face the humiliation of the Executor, Lord Creuat .

Perhaps the Dark Side Elite should have perished alongside the weapon. They had been summoned to the Eclipse for this specific, brutal purpose: to confront the glaring weakness within their ranks and determine, through trial, who was truly the strongest.

The Nautolan held the coveted position of second-in-command, a prize Krasskorr perceived as ripe for the taking. Unworthiness was a death sentence in this organization; anyone who could not safeguard the Emperor in his own throne room was certainly unfit to lead.

The door snapped open, the sound echoing sharply in the chamber and announcing his presence with a massive, hulking silhouette that stretched down the corridor floor. Krasskorr's twin-jaws snapped and closed with a predatory cadence as his unsettling, golden eyes settled on both Imperius Indomitus and Casi Braste .

They were strong, yes, but to the ever-hungry cannibal, they were also dangerously appetizing. His massive claw was already resting upon the cold hilt of his Lightclub. It would take only the subtlest provocation to unleash him, for the survival of the fittest was the only true law of the Dark Side of the Force.

 

[Meliant]

Location: Deep Core - Eclipse - Nameless Citadel
Objective: Participate

Attn: Lord Creuat Imperius Indomitus Casi Braste Krasskorr the Maw

Meliant's landed crouched in the center of the Dark Side Elite, coming down from high above. He might have been lounging in the rafters like an indolent cat. He certainly landed like one: his impact was muted, and he rose slowly, languidly, shrugging his cloak back over one shoulder.​

​

"Oh my, is that Casi Braste?" The words came out of the armor in a scornful hiss, slipping through the slits in his visor. "What a surprise. I guess daycare let out early."​

​

He snickered, evidently pleased with himself, and went slinking to an open spot on the outskirts of the little ring they were forming. Imperius Indomitus looked about ten thousand years out of fashion in that heavy armor, and Krasskorr, that beast, seemed only a moment away from drooling all over the floor.​

​

Well, with a Dark Side Elite like this, it was small wonder the Emperor thought he needed a Death Star.​

 

[Prowler II]

There was a soft tap that emitted down from the hall and corridor before any other sound could be heard. Rhythmically, it drew closer and closer, and still finally, footsteps also followed. They were not sturdy, not as they used to be, no. Instead, they were almost abrupt. A pattern and a gait that suggested steady, unsteady, and then steady again. There was nothing rushed in his stroll, which was a hint at what he thought about this summoning.

As the Elder approached the chamber, he seemed to lean on the staff that he clutched in one hand. A stave of unique design at that. Adorned its head was two horn like structures and it oozed a cold aura. Black and red robes adorned his tall but gaunt form, and a thick white beard and head of hair draped over his shoulders and down the front of his chest. A amulet or sometype of amulet hung from around his neck, covered partly by his long facial hair. Pale eyes gazed about the room, briefly overlooking the more fresh faces among the Elite, while the Elder knew very little of each one of them, There was something about his expression that suggested he was inspecting a menu.

Ripe pickings for what face to wear next.

Finally his staff sounded one last time and the pale eyes snapped toward Lord Creuat and where Prowler was sure the rest of the elite addressed their perceived authority with respect, he would do no such thing here.

" Creuat." The elder spat. Somehow bringing heavy emphasis on the last letter of the name. A greeting that was void of life itself.

Tags: Meliant Krasskorr the Maw Casi Braste Imperius Indomitus

 

[Cesare Demici]

Tags: Lord Creuat , Prowler II , Casi Braste , Meliant , Krasskorr the Maw , Imperius Indomitus

Citadel of Secrets

Cesare quietly entered the room with a rather monotone look upon his face. Each step was measured, calm, yet landed with resounding purpose. The fall of the Galactic Alliance was meant to be his opportunity... his golden hour... his opportunity to get into the good graces of the Emperor. He was meant to be the hero of the Empire, the champion of Solipsis. He was destined to approach the throne, look the Sith'ari in the eyes...

and promptly run him through.

Cesare's parentage was no secret among the Elite, nor among those within the greater reaches of the Imperial ranks. His father had been one of Solipsis' most renowned enemies, all the way to his final breath. Cesare hadn't cared for the man's sermons, nor for his misguided crusade, but Pietro was still his father... his blood... his family. His murder was a crime against the very Demici name, and Cesare would not sleep until his vengeance was satiated in full.

But now, with the implosion of the Empire's enemy, the heir to the Demici name had now found himself stuck, locked into the weaving machinations of the Emperor and his ilk with no clear end in sight. But the man was nothing if not resourceful, and despite the frustrations welling up within him, he would keep a cool head, awaiting his next opportunity to seek out his justice.

He stopped abruptly, standing next to the others as his jaw clenched almost instinctively. He didn't care much for the others among the Elite. He hated most of them. The majority were little better than ravenous beasts. Some were sychophants, while others were merely self-serving backstabbers. In the end, however, they were little more than stepping stones on his path to vengeance. A vengeance he would have this day, the next, or in a hundred more after that. Even in the next lifetime, if need be.

For now, he had all the time in the world...