Dominion Core Summit - Ep1 [GE Dominion of Fenris]

[Reiner Ghadi]

Tags: Shannic Wulf , Okono Dukkha , Domaric Mordane , Aggadeen Myi , Darth Keres , Ellayina L'lerim , St. Thomas Barran , Imperius Indomitus

Politics... they never change. Reiner held back a long-winded sigh while the others bickered. Practitioners of the Dark Side had to chime in as well, of course. They couldn't keep their mouth shut if even their own survival relied on it. Thankfully, there were other level heads among those present. Minister Dukkha had already proven to be a reliable ally in Reiner's efforts thus far, and it seemed that he intended to keep it that way. It seemed that Reiner had made the right call in working with him.

Myi, on the other hand... the man was treading on thin ice. They all were. The loss of the Death Star (whether or not they wished to admit it) was an incredible frustration for anyone that had even breathed in its general direction. Unlike Aggadeen, however, the rest of them weren't about to overplay their hand. If Myi wasn't careful, he may find himself in front of a firing squad, or worse...

Say what you will about Mordane, sniveling snake of a sycophant as he was... the man knew how to keep his head from rolling off of his shoulders.

"I believe that we all, at the end of the day, wish for this Empire's continued success."

His words were filled with a subtle tinge of annoyance, like a parent trying to validate a group of arguing children.

"Minister Dukkha has raised a valid point. Our reserves are running dry, and steps must be taken in order to remedy that. The bolstering of the Fenris System would certainly help in that endeavor."

His hand motioned toward Mordane as he continued.

"The further siezure of assets from Alliance collaborators would also be both a statement to the populace and a boon to our efforts to strengthen our military. There are many rogue corporate entities and bureaucrats of questionable loyalty that would better serve the Empire while under our direct control."

His gaze shifted to Myi next.

"Surely COMFEAR would be pleased to have some of its losses recovered, and would not object to weeding out those that harbor ill will toward the Empire."

 

[Da'Razel]

CORUSCANT - COUNCIL CHAMBER

Tag Direct: Vireth | Darth Vinaze | Okono Dukkha | Darth Keres | Imperius Indomitus

Tag Indirect: Shannic Wulf | Domaric Mordane

Equipment: The Furnance | Korrûg Kuûr
​

​

His blood boiled at their sight.

He despised them so thoroughly that language struggled to contain the wrath kindled in his gut.

Filthy bureaucrats, fat from power, perched on scarlet-cushioned thrones stacked atop the bent backs of honest labor.

The gigantic, opulent frame, clad in aureate full-body armor, entered the chamber in the midst of debate.

He found no seat; he had no interest, nor the clearance, to sit among these petty officials.

But he found refuge in those eyes, golden orbs devoid of soul, empty sockets were it not for their gilded gleam. Eyes wielded like blades. A gaze capable of slicing through whatever it settled upon.

The humming of internal servos whirred as he came to stand beside Vireth of Kuat, his towering silhouette in stark contrast to the petite form he guarded.

The golden crown of his helm dipped low in a deep bow, a wordless exchange between allies.

From Coruscant, across Ord Lithone, to the belly of the Death Star, the two zealots had fought and bled for the Church. Yet here, they found themselves on its fringes.

The faces of the Imperial bureaucrats and officials blurred together into a mush of featureless visages. Their spun lies found no purchase with him.

There had been no Death Star?

The memory resurfaced, the tragedy that had befallen them upon that world-ship.

He still remembered the echoing chant, Vireth's and Vianze's screams, drowning out the choir of voices that had prayed as one. A vision of a galaxy eclipsed.

There had been no Death Star?

But he held his mouth.

He held even his thoughts.

It was not his place to form an opinion on the trivial doctrines of mortals.

Whatever would be decided here today, the Church would remain sovereign.

He would preach to his congregations among the stars.

None of this, none of them, besides the Grand Vizier Wulf herself, could alter that.

Moments after he found his place, the equally massive form of Imperius Indomitus rose to speak.

A deep, vox-scrambled chuckle rumbled from within Da'Razel's featureless helm.

He had grown familiar with the heretic during their recent joint expedition. Imperius was a pragmatist, a strange brew of Imperial doctrine mixed with something older, zealous, almost tribal. A hidden culture forged over decades of war and leadership among nomadic conquerors.

Da'Razel felt the urge to reprimand him…

But then, from the shadows where the dim lights failed to reach, Prophet Darth Vinaze emerged.

The sight eased the weight of their recent defeat on his shoulders.

His master was ever-present, ever-listening. A figure who existed in every corner of every Core World.

And what comforted the Saint most was how Vianze struck.

He made no attempt to respect the petty decorum of these pencil-pushing parasites who leeched off empires built by Sith blood and sacrifice.

His words, like poison-tipped blades, burrowed into the man's side, pinning Imperius down upon the stratagem table.

Da'Razel tilted his golden gaze toward his Prophet. He would seek him later, if the opportunity arose. There was much to tell.

Meanwhile, disputes erupted.

Blame shifted like a tide.

Like a pack of rabid dogs, orders were barked back and forth.

Da'Razel chuckled again, plates of his gauntlet shifting as his hand drifted toward Korrûg Kuûr, the cursed revolver strapped at his hip.

He rarely carried the relic.

He had fired it only once.

But he could feel its pestering cries, its sobbing hunger, begging to unleash its catastrophic payload upon any of the infidels polluting the chamber.

This was the difference between them.

There were those who struck down the Empire's foes with their bare hands, true believers dragging themselves to the edge of their own life as they pushed the heathens over the brink and into their demise.

And there were those who merely spoke of power.

A sorrow overcame him. His visor lowered to the floor as he murmured a silent prayer for the courageous souls lost upon the Death Star.

His thoughts lingered on Deonis Laythar

Watch over him, my Lord, for he was a dutiful servant.

He raised his gaze.

Plump, arrogant mortals lecturing incarnations of divinity, proclaimed as such by none other than the will of the God-Emperor himself.

But amid the squabbling, a chilling, almost whispered remark from someone he had not yet encountered became the victim of his attention.

A short-statured wraith of a being, draped in uneven slabs of black cloth.

Shabby. Defiant. Out of place.

Her ignorant words hurled at his Prophet tore the Saint of Flames from his brief mirth and rekindled his wrath.

The temperature around him rose, his armor straining to contain the inferno blooming at his core.

"Excuse me, Sister…" he uttered, bowing beneath her gilded gaze.

Massive war-greaves clanged against durasteel as he moved around the table with deliberate menace.

He ignored the ongoing bickering.

He ignored the arguments.

He was stirred by the calm voice of the Togruta senator, who attempted to quell the conflict by redirecting attention to Ferris itself.

For a fleeting moment, Da'Razel considered a sermon to a congregation among the working populace of that resolute world…

But the thought alone could not quench the blaze ignited by this hag's insult toward his master.

He stopped at the woman's seat.

The resplendent giant bowed again, not as deeply as before, and spoke, loud enough to be heard, but not enough to disrupt the proceedings.

The Togruta was right, this was a matter between Sith.

His voice boomed with warped vox, stern, resonant, thick with hatred.

"Repent, witch. You may speak your truth, but hold your foul tongue before our Prophet. I do not know who you are… but I am certain you do not know to whom you speak."

The Sith-killer relic at his waist screamed, begged, battered against its holster.

One slug.

One life.

One eternal silence.

His next words were more resolute, bore more wrath, were more threatening.

"You must be a fresh-hatched chick among the flock. So I forgive your ignorant outburst. But do not stoke the flame that warms you, for it will burn you just the same."

He rose back to his full height and stood beside the woman, not as a sentinel, but as her looming, menacing oversight.

 

[Vireth]

---

---

Imperial Centre, Corusca sector.
Tags: St. Thomas Barran | Domaric Mordane | Darth Keres | Okono Dukkha | Darth Ayra | Aggadeen Myi | Imperius Indomitus | Shannic Wulf | Reiner Ghadi | Darth Vinaze | Ellayina L'lerim | Da'Razel |

---

A shadow emerged from the recesses of the dark. It was a comforting presence to her. A man... No. Perhaps it was more accurate to describe him as divine being, no less a Saint, who had watched over her first at Ord Lithone, and then later at Atrisia. He may have been human once, like her, if it were not for the power of the dark-side which had taken them both into new heights which dwarfed all common men and their ilk.

They traversed the galaxy among the Gods now, and called victors friend, colleague, or associate-- elevated by the power of the Church of the Dark Side.

A fitting reward for all their work, and toil. The Church provides their devout, and takes away from the weak.

Vireth followed Da'Razel with her eyes. Her neck craned itself around to look up at him from her seat as the Saint stood behind her, and as he gave his quiet gesture with a nod, the woman beneath him reached out for a moment to rest her hand on his. The moment came and went quickly. There was only so much time that could be afforded to the niceties when the rest of the galaxy beckoned before them. As she turned her attention back to the summit, Vireth was met with debate and rhetoric. She smiled to herself. It was only through strength that they would gain power, and so she welcomed these strong words, and the confrontation at hand, even still from the Zakuulan in their midst.

Aggadeen, a delegate from COMFEAR, had made it known that the destruction of the Death Star was consequentially being felt within the markets which had produced a considerable strain to the economy of their burgeoning Galactic Empire, in spite of the fact that it's existence was set to be obfuscated by their propaganda machine, therefore creating a ghost in the shell amid the numbers and numerous archives that his department oversaw.

Vireth had no doubts in the man's expertise. He had surely taken into account that Project Stardust had been a clandestine operation which had stretched across the decades and was not a recent development of the Great Core Wars. That it was not just this government, but it's several predecessors, who had each been a willing (or sometimes unwilling) contributor to their cause? Such was the extent of the original obfuscation into the very existence of such a project that not even Vireth, who had been brought into stardust towards it's end, could not fathom the amount of resources and wealth spent on the construction of the Emperor's weapon that had been built in the dark out of the prying eyes of the Jedi rebellion.

Despite the taking and subsequent produce of credits, supplies or manpower taken across numerous campaigns, regimes and conquests-- all in the name of ridding the galaxy of the decadent Galactic Alliance (stretching back to the Second Great Hyperspace Wars)-- Myi Aggadeen still made the assertion, backed by observations from Minister Dukkha, that for all their rhetoric and propaganda, it would not fill the sizeable hole left behind by the Battle of Atrisia in spite of their pyrrhic victory over the Jedi rebellion. This problem required solutions, and quickly, before the likes of COMFEAR and it's ministers (like Aggadeen) began to lose faith in the regime all the while as the Emperor concealed himself after Atrisia.

Spite was lingering in the air amid the politics and disagreements at play in this theatre of confrontation masquerading behind the sensibilities instilled by the likes of Shannic Wulf as she sat at the head of the this galactic powerhouse resting upon Imperial Centre. No, Vireth, of course, disagreed with Lord Indomitus' desire to dissolve the Church of the Dark Side, with the implication that it was no longer service to function. The Architect desired to correct the Zakuulan. Not with words, but with her contributions to the cause, which had seen Vireth sacrifice her eyes to the pursuit of science, and to recent campaigns that had seen the purse world of Cato Neimodia, the rich farmlands of Chandrila, or the annexation of the Fenris system (with it's Tibana gas reserves) that were all absorbed into their territories during the heights and aftermath of the Great Core Wars.

"As for speaking with one voice that can be accomplished but I make one thing very clear, COMFEAR will not indulge in a false narrative when we have a vast amount of credit to recover."

"Ladies and gentlemen of the council, practicality and clarity..."

"Could taxation be the answer?" Vireth spoke into her intercom as she interjected herself into the debate. "I am no economist, but I am familiar with the Neimoidians. Was it not a point of our campaign strategy against the Jedi that Cato Neimodia should be taken early in order to utilize this purse world in pursuit of our objectives? Has this purse worlds currency reserves dried up so drastically? Have we also not taken other star systems, such as Chandrila, whose economies could be taxed and levied to solve the problem that Minister Aggadeen has brought up?"

As the question of taxation was raised by a self-confessed novice, Vireth moved the conversation into a realm that she did understand. No, she was not a military woman (despite her enlistment in Imperial service via the Raithal Military Academy), but she did understand scope and strategy. Indeed, with the fall of the Galactic Alliance, they were now the dominant power in the galaxy, and with that came the ability to impose themselves on the star sectors that were currently out of their territorial reach, and yet quaked in fear at the prospect of their Imperial march forcibly taking them into the domain of their resplendent Galactic Empire.

"The criminal cartels and organisations grouped together under the Black Sun Syndicate, with their agents and saboteurs, were useful contributors to our cause to end the Jedi rebellion," Vireth asserted as she began to blend truth and lies together until one or the other could not be seen clearly. "Now that we have ended the rebellion isn't it now time for the Empire to impose itself upon the other entities outside of the Core?"

Vireth turned her gaze to Shannic Wulf. As the two women locked their eyes, the Kuati felt the weight of her superiors stare, and so mustered every announce of politeness that she could in order to appease the Grand Vizier with her suggestion. "Taxation of our own territories needn't be where we start and stop, Grand Vizier. In exchange of our leniency, could we not impose taxes upon the Black Sun? Could the same not be achieved with the Mandalorians, or the High Republic?"

As this interesting idea was considered by her peers, Vireth expanded upon it. "Under the disguise of leniency, diplomacy, or military pacts, couldn't this regime impose sanctions, levies, taxation, or demand payment from the Mid rim, or even the Outer rim systems? The idea of, 'We will not attack you, in exchange for...' so and so has merit, no? Would this not be a practical solution to the points Minister Aggadeen has made today?"

Turning her gaze away from the Grand Vizier to the rest of the summit, Vireth declared boldly: "This is not beyond the scope of the Church. We have accomplished things far more difficult than this. If it has been lost in this room, due to Atrisia, or the point has also been lost to the rest of the galaxy, then let us remind them all: we have our boots on your neck, and it is only our mercy which prevents us from stomping down. Comply with our demands, and laws, or we will crush you just like we did to the Jedi rebellion."

---

 

[Darth Keres]

​

[]

​

Objective: Secondary Priority - Education / Internal Affairs
Tag: Vireth / Okono Dukkha / Darth Ayra

Darth Keres pivoted from the Education Department representative with a slow, deliberate grace, as though every motion were calculated to remind the air itself that it served at her sufferance. The hall's pallid hanging lights flickered as she passed, their dim halos recoiling from the shadow that clung to her like a living shroud. Her boots made no sound on the cold marble floor, yet each step seemed to echo in the bones of those nearby, an unspoken promise that knowledge, in her hands, was as much a blade as any forged in iron. She did not look back; she rarely needed to. People followed her intentions whether they understood them or not.

As she neared her seat, the Assembly Hall erupted with numerous voices attempting to speak over the next. The wooden and marble chair, worn smooth by generations of anxious occupants, seemed to stiffen at her approach, its age-old creaks swallowed before they could betray her presence. She lowered herself with the stillness of a tomb door settling into place, an austere presence returning to its rightful throne.

Around her, voices fluttered like frantic moths beating themselves against lantern glass, some half-whispers, some nervous theories, some brittle laughter, and some accusations. She drank it in with an almost reverent poise, enthralled not by their words but by the tremors of hope and potential solutions braided within them. Her eyes, dark as shuttered crypts, moved from speaker to speaker with unhurried precision, cataloging every twitch, every hesitation, every lie politely dressed as discourse. The chatter swelled, yet none dared to meet her gaze for long, as if prolonged eye contact might strip something essential from them; or attract her unwanted attention.

She remained motionless amid the storm of voices, a single blackened pillar around which the living swirled in their noisy, desperate dance. Patience radiated from her like the slow pulse of some buried, ancient thing; immense, inexorable, and utterly indifferent to the anxieties of mortals. She watched them with the quiet fascination of a predator observing prey that does not yet realize it has strayed too close. And though she neither spoke nor moved, the realization crept through the assembly like a cold draft under a locked door: Darth Keres was listening with intent, and the night itself seemed to lean in beside her, eager for what she might decide next.

Darth Keres shifted at last, the movement subtle yet sharp enough to cut through the droning conversation like a blade sliding free of its sheath. She turned her head toward the person seated beside her, her smile a thin, glacial crescent that held no warmth, only implication. "I cannot decide which is the greater horror," she murmured, her voice a low whisper that seemed to dim the light around them, "the labyrinth of politics…or the trembling fools who don masks of statesmanship and believe the costume makes them sovereign." Her words drifted across the space like a chill, settling into the listener's spine with the intimacy of a ghost's breath.

Spoiler: Gear Loadout

• Melee Weapons​
  • XIII​
• Armor​
  • Black Caskan Wolf-Snake Armor​
• Accessories​
  • k​
• Ship​
  • Taciturnitas​
• Personal Guards​
  • Silencers​

 

[St. Thomas Barran]

TAGS
Shannic Wulf
Imperius Indomitus Okono Dukkha Domaric Mordane Vireth Reiner Ghadi Darth Keres Da'Razel

CORE SUMMIT (1)
II​

City Gatehouse, Caryn,
Fenris, Core Colonies (903 ABY)

'Hawl, Birdwatcher.... Unmute us.'
'Trying to win the bet, or trying to piss me off?'
'Hopefully the former.'
​

Bringing two plastic coffee-cups to their seats, both filled with that liquid energy they knew they would be needing for the rest of the proceedings, the Khan would briefly pause on his intended proceedings, holding out a blocking-hand gesture between themselves and the red Holoplinth. It seemed that Barran would need to be alert for this one, and in that process of trying to stay seated whilst receiving his cup, he was quickly given that gut-punch from the mind to inform him this move would likely double his risk of execution; even feeling that tentative approach to the chopping-block as he took his first sips, the one-eyed Woad was gambling like never before, and his OIT-affiliated handler was quite aware of that fact.

The coffee tasted good, though.

For the next few moments, watching on as Da'Razel took the Dais, the unlikely duo drank in silence; finishing their cigarras before eventually casting mutual, sidelong glances at each other, marking intent to get started, though they were quite willing to listen on as Vireth took the Dais next. Picking their moment to commence, and all without a word spoken between them, the Khan would follow his handler's lead in actively drinking through the remainder of their coffee servings, preparing his larynx as much as his mind for the impending gamble, just as the Grand-Vizier's gaze briefly tracked toward Barran's red, holographic silhouette.

'We good?'
'Shoot.'

'Alright! Here's the thing, I may yet have your solution to the tax-problem, a natural means of averting the need for heightened Church tithes, indulgences an' such, though I may yet need to double back on this matter as an aside.... First off, those matters of ideological an' spiritual concern needn't become an issue either, an' just as my peer in Sainthood mentioned, we're aiming higher already, an' far too high for our Epicanthix counterparts to reach. So, we can afford to pump the air-brakes on that problem, it takes time to stretch our reach higher - we ascend well enough on current trajectories, so be patient.'

​

Taking a moment to light his half-finished cigarra once more, taking one quick draw as he framed his second segment in silence, the Khan would calmly gaze off leftward in a thoughtful meditation, though only for a moment or so. Barran could feel eyes burning into his skull by then, thus affording himself only another drag, as the reason why would become apparent soon enough, that is, if the OIT handler's presence was not indication enough on it's own. Made all the more apparent when the Heathen Saint met the Grand-Vizier's gaze, as even in that quiet, though supremely-dangerous moment, St. Thomas could see for himself that Lady Shannic was fully aware of the direction he was trying to take with his input.

​

'Secondly, an' drawing back to this concern of resources, funds an' the like, we can address that issue, but bear in mind that this very same solution is the reason I am in hot water now.... For resources, you can all jump to the wonders beheld in the Fenris system, minerals an' all sorts, an' all of it at the realm's disposal, if you so choose it. I bequeath it all to the Grand-Vizier as a gesture of remorseful, sincere good will. Plenty more where that came from, that is, if the Council permits it - an' all it would ever require is an Imperial Letter of Marque.'

 

[Shannic Wulf]

Imperial Ruling Council​

Shannic had learned long ago that councils were living things. They breathed, shifted, recoiled and advanced according to the temperament of the men and women seated within them. Governance was never simple. It required a steady hand, a careful mind, and a willingness to guide even the most ambitious voices back toward the good of the Empire. Power could not rely on strength alone. It needed shape. It needed order. It needed those who understood that unity did not come naturally, but through deliberate and patient leadership.

With that thought held firmly in place, she addressed the chamber.

"The Emperor recognises that this moment calls for pragmatic and confident economic measures. The consolidation of our young Empire now stands as the first duty of this Council. He affirms that every debt owed by the government will be honoured in full. Prepare your reports and proceed with assurance. We will ensure that our coffers remain secure and abundant.
"Our citizens will rest easily, knowing that this august body acts with their welfare in mind.
"Regarding the matter raised a moment ago by Saint Thomas, the Council has heard his proposal. His offer concerning the resources of the Fenris system is noted, along with the intention behind it. The Council will consider the matter carefully, since the interests of the Empire must guide every decision made within this chamber. I acknowledge the gesture and thank him for placing it before us.
"Finally, I have received confirmation this morning from Director Noda of the Imperial Security Bureau. Several former Alliance traitors are now in custody, including individuals of senior rank. One of them is a Senator. His arrest and forthcoming execution will serve as a clear reminder of the cost of standing against the progress of the Empire."

Shannic allowed herself a single inward breath. Councils thrived when they believed themselves decisive, but they endured only when guided by someone who understood the delicate balance between command and consent. She knew that truth better than any of them.


Domaric Mordane | Aggadeen Myi | Okono Dukkha | St. Thomas Barran | Darth Keres | Vireth

 

[Okono Dukkha]

Shannic Wulf | St. Thomas Barran | Domaric Mordane | Vireth | Reiner Ghadi | Darth Keres | Imperius Indomitus | Aggadeen Myi | Ellayina L'lerim
​

"Inspired words, esteemed Grand-Vizier," Dukkha clapped his hands together once, "traitorous voices ought to be silenced." he looked around the room at the present Sith, gauging a reaction. Their strength was respected, they were worshipped by the citizens of the Empire, but they needed to learn when to let things rest. The tomfoolery present in this council said as much. Darth Vinaze was already huffing out of the room. The Prophet may have been the left-hand of the Emperor, but the Imperial Ruling Council knew him well enough already to know how he disdained politics. One less Sith Lord in the room would certainly smooth things along.

"Fenris is indeed just a start. A good one, at that. I have no qualms with the Saint's request, though such things are far from my purview, Grand-Vizier. As for pragmatic and confident economic measures, these I can deliver for you." his fingers fidgeted with some buttons on the desk in front of him, until the room's central holo-projector emitted the image of a planet.

"The planet Tython, comrades. The holy world of the Jedi. Fools as they are, the planet is perhaps the only one of its kind in the Core Worlds... untouched. My exploration geologists have made excellent discoveries in their cursory expeditions. Less than half a percent of the planet's surface area has ever been urbanized or industrialized. We have in our hands a veritable treasure trove. While the IMRE will of course focus on intensifying Tibanna production in the Fenris system, it is my intention to also begin a rapid and exhaustive mining program on Tython. All of the raw minerals needed to alloy Durasteel are present in abundance, among many other exploitable resources. I am confident... no, certain... that this initiative will reverse the supply line issues we've been discussing. Tython can be our crucible to forge a Galactic Army, and my people can begin this process within a standard month from today."

 

[Doctor Afic Otker]

Shannic Wulf | Okono Dukkha | St. Thomas Barran | Reiner Ghadi | Domaric Mordane | Vireth | Darth Keres | Imperius Indomitus | Aggadeen Myi | Ellayina L'lerim
​

"If I may add to the Minister's proposal."

The unassuming man spoke up, his neutral tone ringing out in the broad chamber. His hand was lazily raised before it clasped the other palm on the desk in front of him. Had the man not spoken, he could have genuinely disappeared into the crowd of countless bureaucrats and attendants with their silent faces. The man wore a simple Imperial tunic and had rank tabs that revealed him to be a notable member within the Office of Imperial Sciences. Unsurprisingly, he had entered alongside Director Ghadi as part of his entourage before they had taken their seats. The scientist-politician was seated to the right of his superior, silently supporting him until, finally, the doctor spoke up on his own accord.

"Our current deficits and shortages arising from the significant loss of our capital assets during the Atrisia campaign cannot truly be overstated."

The Deputy Senior Science Officer looked around the room to briefly gauge the reaction to his statement. A silent compromise on the censored matter: everyone could easily deduce what "capital assets" could mean and include in the context of a grandiose battle that was Atrisia. The scientist found it absurd that such high-ranking officials had to pretend to ignore reality, but he elected to simply use plausibly deniable terms when referring to the pertinent matter of losing a great number of capital-class ships and the Death Star itself in an effort to not rock the boat.

"Not only are we using more tibanna than the empire can currently extract, but we also have notably reduced numbers of trained personnel and military hardware that we will need significant resources to replace after our losses in recent campaigns. Hence, my view is that we must be smart in our new doctrine of how we train our military, streamline our logistics, and patent more effective military technology. Waves and zealotry may have won us the Core, but overwhelming our remaining enemies with sheer numbers is no longer viable unless we wish to break our backs alongside the former plutocrats of the deceased Galactic Alliance."

Doctor Otker paused, allowing everyone time to digest his words and time for him to drink from his cup to hydrate himself. He quietly sets the cup back down, clasping his hands together and leaning forward in his seat while his eyes dart around the room.

"I am not exactly an admiral, so this may not be my place, but it seems rather obvious that we should seize as many sectors as we can once the Empire is in a position to do so, before the rebellious factions decide to drop all pretence and seize upon the corpse of their former ally by taking the holdings for themselves. The acquisition of Fenris would be an excellent start, owing to its mining deposits and large reserves of tibanna gas, not to mention its rather sizable manufacturing base."

Doctor Afic Otker pauses, fixing the spectacles on his face. The doctor suddenly becomes more animated, his head turning more often to look at the numerous faces in the chamber. He felt as if he was finally about to add something new to the discussion rather than rehashing the old and obvious.

"It will take time for Tython's resources to be fully surveyed and then for mining operations to begin. Fenris is only but one sector, so it may be a while before we see any stabilisation of current demands for tibanna gas. That's why I believe we need to employ some short-term measures before such things take place. To reduce current tibanna costs, our lower priority ships can start using Sodium, Baradium Nitrate, Megonite, Deuterium, Nergon-14, Rhydonium and other cheap fuel sources to help ration our current tibanna gas reserves. Furthermore, my department can use current funds to expedite development on various slugthrower prototypes and start producing these weapons for our garrison and low-priority troops. It may take time to start up the munition plants, but this will allow our frontline soldiers to be fully equipped with modern hardware while maintaining sufficient garrisoning of our territories. Creating a parallel stockpile of slugthrower weaponry would also become a viable stopgap should we experience tibanna shortages again in the future."

Doctor Otker leans back in his seat, his hands unclasping and resting gently on the desk in front of him. He briefly turns the chair around to look at the crowd behind him to gauge their reaction before facing the centre of the chamber once more. His finger starts tapping the desk as he speaks.

"This is merely a fraction of what I wish to implement through my HALLAM initiative, but I think we should focus our discussion on the most immediate measures in mind before overwhelming ourselves in the abstract while we are still drowning in the present."​

 

[St. Thomas Barran]

TAGS
Shannic Wulf
Imperius Indomitus Okono Dukkha Domaric Mordane Vireth
Reiner Ghadi Darth Keres Da'Razel Doctor Afic Otker

CORE SUMMIT (1)
IV​

City Gatehouse, Caryn,
Fenris, Core Colonies (903 ABY)

[MUTE]

'Not bad, eh?'
'Hah! I think you might actually get that Letter of - whatever.'
'You're smiling..... You still,"Good for it.", as you said before?'
​

Snarling as St. Thomas bared his forearm-transfer window, his OIT handler then bared his own and swiped in Barran's general direction, reacting in two sudden switches of expression, such that almost gave the Khan a bout of perceptional whiplash. St. Thomas could see a great violence residing in the agent's cold-eyed glare, but unlike others in the Saint's position at the time, the one-eyed Woad had found something there to appreciate, representing the very first showing of aide-de-camp potential in the OIT's clandestine ranks. This was a man capable of inciting fear and hatred alike, but in that mind hid something else, and it was that which the Khan could see for himself - and see it in an entirely-curious light.

​

'Before today, you were expecting reassignment, my death an' a kark-ton more money than you had jus' there.... An' all o' that... You were denied - in the blink of an eye-AAAAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!

It was then that Barran's handler exhibited one last sudden switch of expression, seemingly exhibiting that of dismay, perhaps even so far as defeat; and to compound this change even further, against every urge to do so, the OIT handler would almost immediately bury his head in his hands. Scoring even higher in the Khan's estimation when his handler then punched him in the gut, showing the agent's bravery under the testing conditions of a renowned trickster, but much to the handler's annoyance, this only intensified the Khan's wheezing mirth. Following up to his point with that which he was really trying to make, the one-eyed Woad made sure to settle his laugher enough to conclude,'YOU'RE STUCK WITH ME NOW, YA CORUSCANTINE FETH-WIT!!!! AN' YOU'RE GONNA LOVE EVERY - LAST - SECOND!!!!', leaving no illusion of escape from the cost of patrician hubris.

'I hate you, and so fething much that I'm not even sure I've felt this kind of loathing before.'
'Yeah, yeah, yeah, heard it all before.... Want another coffee?'
'Feth off, man.'
'AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!'

​

Beyond that point, the summit on the screen would not be half as tense as it was for the Khan when it started, and with all weight of impending death finally thrown off, St. Thomas knew he was right to relax for once. The only tasks that remained were to wait out the proceedings, to wait for adjournment then await further instructions; and after that, the Mawsworn horde could celebrate their survival whilst awaiting the Imperial Letter of Marque, introducing the OIT handler to culture and drinking-games of his people, along with the plan drawn out by the Khan and his highest-ranked officials.

Made all the more important when St. Thomas overheard talk of the Council's intentions for Tython, as it represented the need for more planets to maintain Imperial retention of the initiative in this war, and with a grand, near-encompassing void of territorial responsibility at the Khan's disposal, the possibilities were also near-endless. Barran could articulate this potential more-easily than most within Coruscantine spheres of influence, and the OIT-handler needed to shown the true extent of that fact, especially if he wanted the Imperial attache to consider their uncontested access to the Unknown Region, as this was a hidden tool of conquest for the future.

A proverbial sleeping-giant, forces seemingly sleeping dormant - for almost twenty years.

 

[Darth Ayra]

---

---

Imperial Centre, Corusca sector.
Tags: St. Thomas Barran | Domaric Mordane | Darth Keres | Okono Dukkha | Vireth | Aggadeen Myi | Imperius Indomitus | Shannic Wulf | Reiner Ghadi | Darth Vinaze | Ellayina L'lerim | Da'Razel | Doctor Afic Otker |

---

Quiet. It is an underrated state-of-being that some should practise more often than not. To be in a place of silence is to gain perspective and objectivity which awards a vast array of tools for a cunning mind to use to advance their own position. Previously, at a tribunal held on Ord Cantrell, the strand-cast (sent in her place) had been loud and forthcoming with a man who had once been nominated to fill the same position now held by Shannic Wulf. But imitations of the real thing pale in comparison to the truth, and it was true that Darth Ayra has been a quiet observer of these proceedings since she had taken her seat at this summit to watch, listen and hear what these villains would do next.

History is another underrated thing. You can learn a lot from the past. The men and women engulfed in these debates regarding state matters or economics were from a long lineage which stretched back to the Imperial remnants that had once ruled the Sartinaynian system during the heights of the hyperspace wars. Back then those heroes had risen up against the Sith Lords who had sought to use them to advance their sick, twisted religious ideologies and subsequently formed the type of movement that would lead the likes of Ignacious Korvan to build what would later become this fledgling Galactic Empire.

Hate has a way of being passed on by one generation to the next, Ayra felt. This was partially why she was quiet. Instead of trying to dominate these proceedings, Ayra was a quiet participant because she fundamentally understood that amid the politics and rhetoric at play was the underlying movement that had led their predecessors towards the purge that had taken place on Bastion all that time ago. That these men and women, who their enemies referred to as the so-called Dark Imperials, were eager to exterminate the Sith rot out there in the Outer Rim systems just like their predecessors had tried during the Second Great Hyperspace War.

So it would not be hard for her so-called associates (from the new Imperial Centre) to turn their guns onto the likes of Darth Ayra or the others from the New Sith Order. It was partially why Ayra was a silent observer to their politics and statesmanship unlike Keres and Vinaze. Ayra felt that this hatred of the Sith were one of the many reasons why the Emperor had brought Korvan and his ilk into his armies on Carlac in the prelude before the Great Core Wars. Insight into the mind of a man, who was worshipped as a deity by the Church, was a difficult thing to comprehend, but Ayra managed it a little. Building ideas takes time and effort, and the Dark Lord of the Sith persists to toil in creation, as the likes of Ayra, and the others at this summit, were woven into the tapestry of Darth Bane.

Solipsis hated the sycophants out there in the Thandon nebulae, and the same was true for the others on Jutrand as well, just as much as he hates the New Jedi Order and their fallen alliance who they had served for over half-a-century. Darth Ayra felt this. Traces of the New Imperial Order and their movement had survived alongside the Mawites to join the Emperor as they were blended and intermixed together to form a new paradigm that had defeated the Galactic Alliance, and her enemies in the Outer Rim systems were on the chopping block as well. So, Ayra was quiet, and remained patient with these Dark-Imperials. The hatred that had seen them topple the Jedi dynasty (after Atrisia) lingered beneath the watchful, stern gaze of Shannic Wulf, and she would keep them in check-- for now-- on the behest of her Sith Master. In time, they would march upon the Sith warlords as well, and Darth Ayra would be there to support them in their march upon the stars when the time came.

Self-preservation amid this zealotry was a disguise that Darth Ayra would continue to wear (for now) as she continued to follow the paradigms of the Grand Plan. While the debate at play moved to consider the Fenris system, Ayra feigned interest but offered no word, or opinion, as her chin rested upon her manicured hand while the other playfully worked a small, grey, metallic cylinder (no bigger than her little finger) between her fingers with an air of nonchalance.

The cylinder was a datachip containing the access codes for the INV Sularen's Revenge. Others, less cunning than herself, would have offered it to these villains in her midst almost immediately. Ulterior motives, disguised as contribution, appeasement, or service to the cause-- as she gave them the potential to dish a cold reckoning upon Marlon Sularen-- were mistakes made by the uninitiated, but Darth Ayra knew better than them.

No. Now was not the time to manoeuvre these Imperials, religious zealots, or the Mawite Saint to suit her agenda. Instead this was a time to watch, and observe the summit as the quiet partner that she was. Wulf's hand shepherded and guided them accordingly, while the Galactic Empire replaced the Jedi-Alliance as the newest, most powerful superpower in the galaxy, and Ayra dared not intercede with the Grand Vizier's work. But when the time was right, as some of them felt the fingers of the Shannic's lift, Ayra would press into their backs and push them out there, to somewhere near or around the Ash Worlds, to bring a reckoning to a man who could have once been the Grand Vizier himself.

Indeed, there was no Death Star. There never had been one, and when Ayra was done with Sularen, he would think the same too.

---

 

[Darth Keres]

​

[]

​

Objective: Secondary Priority - Education / Internal Affairs
Tag: Vireth / Okono Dukkha / Darth Ayra

Darth Keres' slender fingers met in a muted, deliberate clap, the faint echo absorbed by the shadowed corners of the Hall like a secret whispered to the darkness. A thin, cruel smile traced her lips as she let the sound linger, savoring the taste of cunning in the still, cold air.

Her applause was not for joy, but for the silent promise of power, a prelude to the manipulations she would unleash upon the unsuspecting.

The flickering lights painted her features with a ghastly elegance, and in that quiet, measured gesture, she resolved to entwine herself within the serpentine coils of politics; an arena as perilous and treacherous as the abyssal corridors of her own soul.

Darth Keres rose with the silent authority of a shadow uncoiling from the depths of night, her movement almost spectral as she left the black velvet chair that had cradled her in measured repose. Each step across the cold marble floor of the Assembly Hall seemed to draw the darkness closer, bending the flickering lights to her will, casting long, wavering silhouettes that danced like tortured spirits along the walls.

At the speaker's podium, she leaned forward, her long fingers tapping the cold metal of the microphone with a rhythm both precise and unsettling. The faint clack resonated through the hall, echoing like a soft tolling bell, commanding attention without the need for a raised voice.

Darth Keres' gaze swept the room, a predator calculating, savoring the silence she had wrought, a moment before her voice slithered through the hushed Assembly Hall, low and deliberate, each syllable carrying the weight of inevitability, the chill of unseen shadows pressing against the skin of every listener.

"I shall conduct an experiment on the world of Champala," she began, her tone smooth and inexorably compelling, "an endeavor to reshape the very foundations of its society."

Her dark eyes gleamed with a predatory intelligence as she outlined the first of her initiatives, Education Reform, emphasizing not the promise of enlightenment, but the meticulous orchestration of thought itself, molding minds as a sculptor bends clay, unseen hands guiding the future through the silent corridors of learning.

"Internal Affairs shall be bound by rules and regulations stricter than ever before," Darth Keres declared, each word a precise incision into the hall's collective consciousness.

The implication was clear: order would be absolute, dissent extinguished before it could flicker to life, and the machinery of governance sharpened to a blade of perfect efficiency. In her presence, structure became a form of ritual, obedience a silent, inexorable devotion, and even the faintest tremor of resistance seemed to curl into itself, subdued by the oppressive gravity of her will.

Then, with a voice almost tender in its venom, she spoke of the citizens themselves, of the broader, healthier living conditions that would cloak her experiment in the guise of benevolence. "The people of Champala shall breathe freer air, drink purer water, and dwell within spaces crafted for their well-being," she intoned, yet the shadow behind her words hinted at manipulation and control, a careful weaving of care and dominion into a tapestry none could resist.

Every reform, every law, every act of nurture would be a strand in the lattice of her power, a quiet assertion that life itself, under her direction, would bend toward her vision.

Darth Keres' voice, now laced with a rare, sardonic warmth, cut through the lingering tension of the Assembly Hall like a blade through fog. "And so," she declared, her dark eyes glinting with imperious amusement, "I shall proclaim myself Governor of Champala."

A delicate, almost mocking bow accompanied her words, as if she were humoring the assembly for indulging an old woman's ramblings. "Thank you for your patience, for lending your ears to one who has spoken far too long," she added, her tone curling with playful menace.

"Do remember to tip the droids on your way out," she murmured, the faintest shadow of a smile touching her lips, before she turned with the grace of a descending shadow and glided back to her seat, leaving the hall suspended in a peculiar blend of reverence, unease, and reluctant amusement.

Spoiler: Gear Loadout

• Melee Weapons​
  • XIII​
• Armor​
  • Black Caskan Wolf-Snake Armor​
• Accessories​
  • k​
• Ship​
  • Taciturnitas​
• Personal Guards​
  • Silencers​

 

[St. Thomas Barran]

TAGS
Shannic Wulf
Imperius Indomitus Okono Dukkha Domaric Mordane Vireth
Reiner Ghadi Darth Keres Da'Razel Doctor Afic Otker

CORE SUMMIT (1)
V​

City Gatehouse, Caryn,
Fenris, Core Colonies (903 ABY)

'So, what to do from here, Birdwatcher-'
'-I think, from here, you can refer to me as Agent Frost.... And you can afford to wait a while.'
'Noted.... An' noted.'
​

Stepping out from the Gatehouse entrance, the unlikely pairing would make their way to the planet's surface, seeking the closest thing resembling natural light as their conversation continued, intending to travel to the zoning-areas for the first of many expected Frontier HQs. Fortunately for legs and heels alike, there were several belt-line escalators that could take Barran and Frost alike to the surface, and when they eventually planted their feet for the ascent, Frost would finally elaborate,'I trust you'll do well in the near-future, Barran. But lets not be hasty right out the gate, alright? Good things come to those who wait, and you've grown proficient in this art over the years - it makes no sense to ruin a good run twice in the same week.', trailing off as the mechanism finally set their lift into motion.

'I'm invested in your progress now, Cyclops.'
'Heh! Walloper.'
'Yeah, thanks for roping me into your whimsy, by the way. I really appreciate it.'

For this, the Khan would surely allow himself a hearty laugh at his handler's expense, letting go of all restraints on his laddish inner-voice, that which accounted for most of his charm over an entire collective of tribal factions. As fighting prowess, mystical power and inherited Will could only account for that which all the Marauders could see already, it left just enough room for that social magnetism he inherited from his ancestry, the one thing that solidified his reputation as a true leaer, earning boasts like,"Our Khan is one of us.", and,"Our Khan fights for us.", along the way. This, and more on the matter, would need to be considered by the OIT, the Ruling Council and all who looked down on the Maw, especially if any among had plans of removing a leader they had grown to revere, saved by waves of frequent tribal integrations into the Mawsworn culture.

Scourge though the Heathen Saint was, his passions burned strong for the tribes who embraced him, but if that passion had not burned in reciprocation - the Mawsworn likely would have been at Coruscant's mercy by then.

Unity of the sort, especially that which the Maw had attained since the Second Hyperspace, was difficult to find among the forces of the Dark Side, and with it, that same unity was enough to keep them from attacking everything within reach, including the other tribes of the Khanate. Few in the Galactic Empire existed to admit knowing the truth of the Mawsworn tightrope the realm had been walking, fewer still who could articulate events that could have given credence to this issue, but despite the great risks involved in taking on such an ally, the Ruling Council would soon understand that the Dark Voice had been wise to call upon such a man for the wars of the next century.

'In time, you'll learn that this is a good thing, an' with that - in time, you'll also learn it would have been a mistake t'follow through on an execution-order. But don't judge your supervisors too harshly.... As - uh - like you, an' like me an'aw, they're just trying t'survive out here.'

 

[Okono Dukkha]

Shannic Wulf | St. Thomas Barran | Domaric Mordane | Vireth | Reiner Ghadi | Darth Keres | Imperius Indomitus | Aggadeen Myi | Ellayina L'lerim
​

Though it had been a rocky start, things were moving, agreements were being made. Okono was quite intrigued by the standing of the Education Minister. She was a Sith Lord, and one he was not too familiar with. Though he fancied himself above fearing the Sith, it was easier in the face of the aloofness of Indomitus, or in the face of the Prophet, who despite his stature within the establishment was known to be leashed by the Emperor. The Mistress of Silence was something of a wild card, and he did not have the wherewithal to challenge her. She was one of many Sith the Emperor had placed in charge of cultural administrations, bent on changing the very thought patterns of the Imperial populace. He supposed there was something to be said for their success, as even he had found himself going to church and thinking of it not as a chore or a mandate, but rather something he found value in. The philosophy of the Sith, distilled as it was for the common man, had come to inspire Dukkha. Strength and cunning of the individual, each a pillar of the community, of the state... it was a profound and powerful cultural force that was coming to shape the Empire for the better.

"Champala. A decadent world, one of many still cultural beholden to democracy and the vices of capital." he spoke with scorn in reply to Darth Keres. The Chagrian people were much like his own Togruta, and to him they were a warning of what Shili might become if the culture of the Alliance was allowed to fester there any further.

"It could be a promising start for experimenting with a new state curriculum. The Emperor has decreed total domination of the people, after all. I expect that such an initiative, Darth, will be inexpensive in regards to our resource situation."

Dukkha turned his attention to Dr. Otker,

"the Office of Imperial Science is forward thinking, as ever. Please have these recommendations sent to my office in writing for further analysis. I am quite interesting in this initiative of yours."

His eyes scanned the room, seeking the consensus once again. He had to press the advantage of unity among the council while it still existed.

"I wish to reinforce the notion that these supply issues are not a setback. They are purely a temporary case brought about by our military's stellar victories over the Galactic Alliance, and will be treated in due time. In the meanwhile, if some of our soldiers must learn to wield slightly different weaponry, it is okay. Likewise, if for a time we must give greater privileges to the Khan and the Foederati, I am in support of it. We have achieved something incredible, comrades, and we are on the cusp of something even greater. Please, let us continue to work in agreement." his pleas might well go unanswered, he figured. Tensions boiled among the Sith, they always would. The Emperor's Elite would need to keep them in line, but that was far from within Okono's power to oversee. For now, he had to content himself with an alliance to the OIS for when the real backroom political maneuvers began. At the least, a united front in public would create a level playing field, or so he believed...

 

[Da'Razel]

CORUSCANT - COUNCIL CHAMBER
Tag Direct: Vireth | Darth Vinaze | Okono Dukkha | Darth Keres | Imperius Indomitus
Tag Indirect: Shannic Wulf | Domaric Mordane
Equipment: The Furnance | Korrûg Kuûr​

The spinning hum of the gyro spat out a coarse mechanical snarl accompanied by a huffy release of steam from the nostrils of his breathing tubes. The vents puffed defiant, like the sulking stomp of a tantrum-throwing child.

The Saint's gilded gleam beamed with contempt upon the assembly in the midst of their heated debate.

He would have preferred the cowering amidst trench pits on New Plympto to this lot.

He still remembered it, mud-slicked trails punctured with dirt wet puddles of blood churned by the boots of sweating soldiers.

How days later, AT-AT Walkers finally broke the enemy line, and they were able to counterattack.

He remembered his hand gripping the war-bow's frame, how sparks of plasma tore across him as his clawed digits pulled back the massive string.

And when he released,

the forest burned,

New Plympto burned,

his men burned,

he burned.

He had set the world on fire that day.

He remembered how he prayed alongside the surviving men in his trench, kneeling before the metal foot of the gigantic Walker, praising glory to their God-Emperor for unleashing that behemoth of death upon the battlefield to aid them.

Another heavy puff of steam whirred.

And his gore-colored gaze swept across the room, once more.

Imperius's foul tongue had, at last, fallen silent. The outburst was smothered. Da'Razel would not loosen his embrace around the soul of the dogmatic warlord. He wished to enlighten the warrior to gain one more chance to guide the man into the fold of the Church, to number him among the flock, to let him receive the blessings of their Lord.

His Master had withdrawn from the discussion, the Prophet already hurrying onward,

toward another shadow,

another world,

another thread that needed tugging, correcting, keeping the uncontrollable strands of the galactic loom spinning, weaving, forming exactly as their God-Emperor had ordained them.

His marked target, the Sith hag, had left as well, declaring herself Governor of Champala.

At the utterance of that planet's name, a splash of sorrow overcame the golden Saint. He prayed for the man, Salafir, that boy who had been sold to them, offered as a gift of treaty, the Force-sensitive child full of hatred and promise, he who had committed the ultimate sacrifice upon the Death Star.

There was no Death Star. Tss.

Another puff, more a hiss than breath.

At least their dear Vireth fought in their stead, right at the helm of the Church, charting a path through this treacherous bloodbath of political inquiry and deceit.

A crusade of one against bone-grinding bureaucracy and endlessly looping hierarchies.

Even the Grand Vizier herself would not find herself spared of that free fall through her aureate gaze, into a golden abyss.

It was foolish to think she needed him stand sentinel at here side here.

It was the others who required protection.

The Saint's gyros spun sharply as he prepared to depart but to his surprise the Grand Vizier spoke.

And when she spoke, she spoke words spoken to her by his Holiness, spoken by a god, so that she might speak them to His congregation.

Da'Razel froze mid-step, rooted, as he regarded the words of his God.

The Empire remains strong, and true to its word. Bountiful. Abundant.

He clenched his sharpened claws into a fist the size of a mortal man's head.

The Empire's rise under the benevolent hold of their God was nothing short of miraculous.

He had accomplished what no Sith in recent history had:

To seize the Core and topple its rulers.

To collapse an Alliance so ancient and mighty.

To lead billions upon billions into a new era of freedom and prosperity.

No Sith Lord alive could claim the same.

Da'Razel thanked the stars he lived to witness it and silently renewed an oath:

He would wage whatever war was required,

burn every world as he had burned New Plympto,

to preserve the dream of his God-Emperor,

to protect even at the cost of his own life and all those he cherished

the tapestry their God had envisioned.

 

[St. Thomas Barran]

TAGS
Shannic Wulf
Imperius Indomitus Okono Dukkha Domaric Mordane Vireth
Reiner Ghadi Darth Keres Da'Razel Doctor Afic Otker

CORE SUMMIT (1)
VI​

Landing Paddock 6, Caryn Spaceport,
Fenris, Core Colonies (903 ABY)

'See you in two weeks, Birdwatcher.'
'Likewise, Cyclops.... Don't leave Fenris until I do.'
'Works for me - mobilisation's gonna take about a month anyways. Now feth off, already!'
​

With that, the Khan parted ways with his handler, though both retained enough good sense to get their affairs in order during their time apart, removing all tedium before resuming their efforts to coordinate regularly. Strolling apart with enough satisfaction to last, and enough that they were given safer means of blocking out the shame, there would be enough consolation to go around when they returned to their respective contemporaries; but just as many a merchant was willing to remind the Galaxy, the best deals always left a sour taste in the mouths of both bartering parties, doubly so for the greatest of embitteringly-balanced examples.

Concessions and assurances of which had translated well to politics since ancient times.

Happy enough, at least, that the Khanate would endure a little longer, Barran would have neither complaints nor protestations to offer his latest predicament, as there was another deal he struck that held much greater value, just minutes before his Fenrisian encounter was concluded. The only remaining duty to be fulfilled was to inform the Darkhans of the outcome, news that would permit everyone to exhale with all the relief they could handle, and when the one-eyed Woad graced the downward escalators, he began to consider the next planet. Thinking of Alderaan, Corellia, Metellos and even Anaxes before he reached the mouth of the mining tunnel, making it seem as though the options were endless, but then the Khan began to dwell on the Ghost Nebula, especially on it's latest, planet-shifted addition.

The Legion's 1st Auxilia were still embedded on Ord Mantell at the time, and for as long as Rook Darkhan remained within reach, brethren of the Trilunar Clique, fellow Scar Hounds would always need to be considered, but that particular offensive push would prove treacherous enough that not even St. Thomas could deny the dangers they faced. The road to Cademimu V would not be easy, not by any strech of Barran's imagination, and even with the Letter of Marque he would need to improve his chances, there was no way he could mount such an operation without oversight and assistance from the Galactic Empire.

'Hiya, Dad.'
'Arriochus! I hear you did well on Atrisia, but I am curious.... You fixed up that giant walker yet?'
'Well.... We need more metal.'

Wheezing when the young Sharptooth took more than a short moment to realise where they were, the mirth was enough for the lad to roll his eyes with distaste, though it was clear he was learning when he insistently continued his line of questioning, and when he inquired,'But where, though?! This mine has nothing of what we need, I need to travel farther afield if I want to find enough durasteel for that. Any tips on where I might find such a place?', the soul of the doting father would take over the mind of the Khan. The genuine desire to help his son's new pet-project, as unlikely as it was to be seen in someone like St. Thomas, would take precedence, hoping above all that it would give Arriochus enough warm memories to carry into adulthood.

The usual fare for unusual nomads.

'Better get on them Holonet terminals, Son.... There's homework to be done, an' only a few weeks to sort it all out.'
'Fiiiiine!'

 

[Ellayina L'lerim]

Information

Minister of Intelligence, Director of SHADES, Torture & Interrogation Officer​

"Galactic Common" | <"High Nelvaanian"> | ["Essonian"] | ~ telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >> ​

Objective: Monitoring the situation
Location: Imperial Ruling Council
Equipment: White uniform | Viper Mk. I Skinsuit || Empyrean gland || OPBC-01m

Tags
St. Thomas Barran | Domaric Mordane | Darth Keres | Vireth | Okono Dukkha | Darth Ayra | Aggadeen Myi | Imperius Indomitus | Shannic Wulf | Darth Vinaze | Reiner Ghadi | Open​

Ella continued to watch and listen from her hiding spot, observing what the others who had gathered were discussing… or arguing about. Meanwhile, she was thinking; stability required fear and terror as well. The woman would have rather brought up topics such as which planet should have prisons established on it, or perhaps which should be completely isolated and turned into a prison world. Something like Kessel once was. Where the prisoners would work for the Empire; mining, or doing similar labour. It would also have been important to determine in which states spies should be sent.

The idea of a prison world and everything connected to it would have even given a boost to the economy, and prisoners were always easy to find. The previous Galactic Empire had shown an excellent example of this, one could always find some minor excuse to arrest anyone. From that moment on, you no longer had to pay them, only provide daily rations while they worked for free. And everyone else would live in fear and would not dare to resist. And if they did… their rebellion could be crushed harshly. The Imperial war machine functioned perfectly under any circumstances.

Tython… an ironic holy world of the Jedi, when once they had tried to maintain balance and neutrality there, as far as the woman knew from her studies; in the time of the Je'daii, when they fought against the Infinite Empire and the Rakata. Of course, later they became the Jedi, but still, they were neutral as far as she knew. Returning to the point, the woman would have handed Tython over to the Dark Side Elite and the New Sith Order, as a direct insult against the former New Jedi Order and every other Lightsider group. But Ella still said nothing, simply listening silently from her hidden place.

Her intention here was to observe, listen to the others, then write a detailed report and hand it to her superior and mentor, Shannic Wulf . There were advantages to her high-ranking position… though naturally it came with many disadvantages as well. Yet the woman did not dwell on those now. Since childhood she had received Imperial upbringing, a different kind than usual, yes, but still Imperial. And above all, she was a L’lerim; it was in her blood. Ella did not push the thought any further.

She had heard enough for today; now all that remained was to write her report. The woman left the room just as quietly and unnoticed as she had arrived. She would still listen to the continuation through the recorded audio and video later, but for now she had other matters to attend to. Her own ideas and proposals would be presented personally to her mentor, to the Grand Vizier. Until then, there was still much work to do, as such a position demanded a great deal from her.

Last post.​

 

[Reiner Ghadi]

Tags: Shannic Wulf , Okono Dukkha , Domaric Mordane , Aggadeen Myi , Darth Keres , Ellayina L'lerim , St. Thomas Barran , Imperius Indomitus

The most he could do was look upon those that had greater power, whether through the Force or through the Empire. Yet, despite whatever perceived control they had, it all had to be filtered through the same lens...

His lens...

A scientific lens...

"The points made by Okono Dukkha and Doctor Afic Otker are incredibly sound. As for the points the Church makes..."

His cold gaze ventured around the room. He was too smart to let any of the Force users that he was an oppositional force, but he wasn't going to damage the status of the Empire because of their zealotry.

"Even the Church must understand that conquest... and furthermore, victory via said conquest... can only happen if we explore all opportunities..."

He let the words linger in the air for a moment before looking to Shannic Wulf

"Our Grand Vizier clearly has a clear vision forward in regards to the Emperor's vision, but I simply as for the OIS to have the ability to do what we are meant to do..."

A deep breath followed...

"To let us serve the Empire."

 

[Okono Dukkha]

Shannic Wulf | St. Thomas Barran | Domaric Mordane | Vireth | Reiner Ghadi | Darth Keres | Imperius Indomitus | Aggadeen Myi | Ellayina L'lerim
​

"Amen. Let us serve the Empire, any means necessary. Now is the time of utmost importance to prove the to galaxy that we are forward-thinkers, not reactionaries. We are innovative, in both science," he looked to Ghadi, "and security." then his eyes shot to Wulf.

Now, if you'll excuse me. I am due to meet with leading Tibanna barons on Fenris. I expect to be sending positive reports to all of you in the coming days. All Hail the Emperor!" Okono stood and saluted the Imperial flag hung over the Grand-Vizier's chair, then picked up his datapad and scurried off from the meeting.

As he walked through the halls of the governmental complex, he had his head down in his datapad, pouring over the numbers once again, simultaneously managing his secretaries and assistants to ensure they in turn managed his transportation, quickly. There was no time to waste in dealing with the Fenrisian billionaires. The Khan's men had done an excellent job of scaring them into openness to working with the Empire, but Dukkha wondered how long that would last unless it was capitalized upon now. This was an opportunity to break corporate strength in the Empire and he was going to take it.

As he approached the shuttle bay, his commlink buzzed. A message came through on his datapad, from the ISB agent he had employed for corporate espionage on the planet Kril'dor:

VIGILANT: Synthetic Tibanna research procured, but cover blown. Chiss aware of Imperial interference.

Okono cracked a smile. He didn't care if the Chiss knew about the theft. He now held a bargaining chip that gave him power over an industry. Whether or not Director Ghadi would even find a use for the stolen research data and make something useful of it remained to be seen. Yet it was the mere threat to the Tibanna corporations that such a possibility proposed that would see them bending to the will of the Empire...

 

[St. Thomas Barran]

TAGS
Shannic Wulf
Imperius Indomitus Okono Dukkha Domaric Mordane Vireth
Reiner Ghadi Darth Keres Da'Razel Doctor Afic Otker

CORE SUMMIT (1)
VII​

Corporate Sector Kiosks, Caryn City,
Fenris, Core Colonies (903 ABY)

TWO DAYS LATER...

'Ah, Brother Ghoul! How's it going?'
'Its going well, Shriven.... I'm just thinking about Rook is all.'
'Oddly enough, I'll admit - I've been giving thought to our old friend as well.'
​

Embracing as the brothers they had become, the one-eyed Woad greeted the Horse Lord Atrisian with the warmth he was due, being an Ulusar of his own people as much as he was in the eyes of the Mawsworn, and for being there with blood and fervour for the cause the Khan inherited. Ghoul, among the other Darkhans, was more than meritous, and welcomed enough to stand with Barran, thus his voice would be heard, and respected without reservation. A good thing it was then that St. Thomas understood what his friend was driving at, resting a reassuring hand on Ghoul's shoulder as he promised,'Worry not, Brother Ghoul. Its time to call Brother Rook home, time to return the 1st Auxilia to the fold.', smiling peacefully with further assurance that this was what he wanted.

'Yes! Good choice, Brother Shriven! Good choice indeed!'
'Long overdue.... We already got all the intel we needed, an' months ago.'
'True, though now I can't help but ponder on what it is you're seeing in the near future.'

'Well, here's the thing.', the Khan started, trailing off in thought of the reports he had been receiving over the previous weeks, of the threats these reports had posed to his status as the Galaxy's chief-most Marauder. It was not until the Darkhan shunted his leader that Barran realised he was dristracted in the first place, snapping out almost as quickly as he had dropped into the latest bout of pensivity, thus continued,'My apologies, but yeah.... We've got competition out there, another front building up somewhere beyond Fondor, an' we need every last mind on task if that front opens up.', almost wishing he knew more at the time.

'How soon?'
'There's time, enough to prepare.... Enough to return to Mar'Zambul, an' perhaps with just enough time for mobiliza-'

[Bleep]
[Whuuurrrrrrrr]
​

'The feth's that? Is it yours?'

​

Shaking his head, Ghoul's wordless reply would put that to rest, and when he pointed to Barran's arm, the Khan would then look to his wrist-pilot display to find that a document was downloading at the time, sent over from none other than the Grand-Vizier's office. The official seal was difficult to mistake for anything else, even at a distance, thus no time would be wasted to speculative guesswork, only tense, giddy anticipation would remain to take it's rightful place. Not even daring to jinx their hopes, not after the Khan just barely kept their overlords from lopping their heads of, the two old raiders remained silent in the hopes it really was that which they believed it to be.

Then after just a few, tense minutes of waiting, the one-eyed Woad clenched his teeth, closed his remaining eyelids, and whispered prayers to the Avatars, finishing his chosen passages just in time for his wrist-pilot to bleep it's,"Download Complete", notification. More deployment orders, as much as the duo felt they deserved it, (especially after being stationed on the surface of their latest overstepped boundary) was the outcome of which they hoped was the least likely to befall them, and so, all their hopes and prayers would be devoted to pleading for an outcome far more favourable than another frontier-defence deployment.

'Shriven, open your eye. You're not gonna believe this.'
'Hm? Oh.... Rebirth be praised, we did it - WE ACTUALLY DID IT!!!!'

​

Both great Marauders would then (and quite instinctively so) inhale great, luxurious gulps of air with great reason in mind, taking it all in so they could unleash their voices on their skies above, roars so exhilarating that they peaked at howling, shrill height from where the growls would drag them down to rumbling, breathy conclusions. They might have been Mawites in these moments, but for the dynasty that ruled the other tribes, nothing would stop the old raiders from remembering they were Scar Hounds above all things allegiance; living and dying by the ways of the Galaxy's greatest adrenaline-junkies, and for all the dangers, hazards and threats Marauders would face throughout their lifespans, it seemed that nothing else could ever come close to that chemical rush, that synaptic surge of joyous abandon.

To the tribes of the Khanate, that abandon was a reflection of life itself, and with the Grand-Vizier's very own Letter of Marque - that need in their veins could finally be sated without worry of angering their overlords.

'MAR'ZAMBUL AWAITS!!!! RHIGAR STILL BECKONS US HOME!!!! TIANTANG IS CALLING OUR NAMES!!!!'
'HAIL NOKHOI KHAN - THE SAINT OF ROGUES AND OUTLAWS!!!!'

[EXIT THREAD]

 

[Raymond J. Senée]

CORE SUMMIT (I)
I

OVERLOOK HOTEL, PALACE DISTRICT,
CORUSCANT, DEEP CORE TERRITORIES (903 ABY)

<"-Now, if you'll excuse me. I am due to meet with leading Tibanna barons on Fenris. I expect to be sending positive reports to all of you in the coming days. All Hail the Emperor!">
​

'Pfffff.... This jus' gets worse by the day.'
'Ray, please come to bed. I can hear those comm-link screeches through the wall.'
'Its alright, Lara. They're finally adjourning, but I'll need to go see the young Lion now.... Won't be long, though.'

​

While the patient, though-irritated lady waited, Agent Serval put on his plundered OIT uniform, preparing to meet his friends at the young Shaman's house, though sadly this visit would only be a passing, shortlived drop-in. There was work to be done, and for as long as he was stationed in deep cover on Coruscant, there would be plenty of the sort to contend with there; such was life with Les Chacals, especially since they were appointed on joint-operations to work alongside the Highland Brotherhood and the Order of the Chanting Mask, bringing them firmly within the Protectorate's doctrinal-umbrella for surveillance.

And on that same matter, it seemed there was much to report to his Yinchorri commander - but that would need to wait for as long as it would take to earn his next debrief.

I wonder how Martin might feel about all this, an' its all boiling to overflow.​

The long overcoat would be placed over Serval's shoulders before he kissed Lara's head, tucking her into the quilt a little better before he left for the safehouse, given her fair, lover's due before setting out for a report-meeting he was anticipating already. Locking the front door, though habitually with shifting posture left and right so he could see down both ends of the open-air walkway, the young Tuath could not help but notice the great significance of it's rationale, and it's relation to the safety of a lady with whom he was quickly beginning to fall in love. An understanding so brutal, and so devastating that it would gradually crush Raymond's soul, bearing down on his heart of hearts as he walked through the surface-level streets toward his destination, roughly thirty minutes of strolling as he searched his mind for a solution - but ultimately coming up short by the time he reached the safehouse.

​

'Senée!'
'Karidim, ya sly dog! Fire up the Hookah!'