Death To The False Emperor (Coup of the Dark Lord, Open to all One Sith)

[Placeholder 04]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O6ffmunRjjI​

...Darth Arcis fell with a quiet thud. The Fleetmaster and former Sith emperor had died well. The Kaggath was an honor resurrected by Arcis' acceptance of the challenge. Mephirium would make sure acolytes from thereon out would learn of Darth Arcis' exploits, and his hand in turning the winds of fate.

The deck officers stared at him in silence. Darth Mephirium leaned down and picked up the elder Sith Lord's warblade. One could hear a pen drop.

"My father, Grand Moff Rade, once led good men and women such as yourselves to victory in the Empire's name," Mephirium rose to his full height, "I will do the same!" His gaze fell to the Sith Pureblood's corpse. "Arcis was an honorable man and a Sith Lord to be remembered throughout the ages, but he could not have achieved all that he did without your support."

The blade was stained with his own blood. Mephirium ignored the gruesome gash that ran down his inner forearm for now. There would be time to mend his wounds later.

"Your service is to me," Mephirium announced," by honor of the Kaggath!"

The silence broke. An older officer stood up from her chair and bowed. Mephirium acknowledged her with a nod. Soon, the entirety of the bridge joined her. The 501st and its fleet of Star Destroyers, as the rest of the galaxy soon would, waited with bated breath for Darth Mephirium's orders.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Four hours had passed since Arcis had fallen. Mephirium had taken the time to know his deck officers' names and the speak with the admiral aboard. The rest of that time had been spent hailing his allies in from across the galaxy. Coruscant did not know what danger it was truly in, but those below would soon learn of Darth Arcis' death.

There were already whispers of Mephirium's treason. It would be civil war without end.

The six Star Destroyers' sole job was to make sure things were open for the rest of Mephirium's fleet to arrive. A conglomeration of Star Destroyers, old Acclamators, X-wings mothballed by the Galactic Alliance, and a myriad of other vessels would be arriving in system shortly.

Kentarch's mercenaries, a contingent of the Saeva Corporation's naval might, and the transport ships housing the mutants Grudge had crafted for this particular assault would be joining them. Others had pledged themselves to Mephirium's cause as well, though whether they would show was another matter entirely.

Mephirium's current retinue aboard Arcis' capital ship consisted of Captain [member="Aelius Varangian"], head of the Imperial Royal Guard, Colonel [member="Bethany Haverford"], and Mister [member="Gulliver Foyle"]. The Captain and Colonel would be joining him on the direct assault of the Dark Lord's palace. Mister Foyle would be leading the combined efforts of the 501st and their mutant support in destroying whatever loyalist resistance might pop up.

Primary targets were general security stations and airbases.

Saeva's mercenaries would be joining a contingent of the 501st and the Graug Warboys in the assault on the Dark Lord's sanctuary. Mephirium trusted they would succeed in surrounding the structure and preventing any possibility of the Dark Lord's escape.

Bounty Hunters had been assigned to Foyle for tactical disarmament of any particularly troublesome Sith loyalists. That would include any rivals that d̲͇͍̬̳̫͇́a̗͖̻re̶̙d̰̪͈̝͖ to stand in the way of Mephirium's assault.

"It's time Captain. Assemble the men. Have them listen to my words." Mephirium chimed to Aelius. The 501st was to be assembled in the hangers and made ready for battle. The rest of the fleet would arrive shortly after they departed.

The Sith Lord strode to the helm of the ship. Arcis' blood stained the console. "Your sacrifice will not be in vain." Mephirium ran a gloved hand across the crimson stain.

The comm system clicked as it came to life. This signal was one for all to hear. From the soldiers of the 501st, to the general chatter of the One Sith military across their territories. In some areas, thanks to jammers set in place by servants loyal to his cause, their holovisions would be flooded with the message.

If only he had the resources to hijack every signal in the galaxy. Oh, if only.

He drew in a deep breath. The Dark Side thundered through his veins. The power that [member="Soeht"] had granted him made his body feel new - he was still learning how to use it again. With trembling hands, Mephirium tiled his head back.

He spoke, "Lords of the One Sith, soldiers, citizens - I've an urgent message for every one of you." His voice thrummed with power. There was no doubt in his mind now. This was the right decision. "For years, we have followed the Dark Lord. For years, we have spilled blood, conquered, and died for this mysterious being."

A pause.

"He would have you believe that he is a god. I am here to tell you that he is far from that - the Dark Lord is wholly mortal. He is a man; a man that has been happy to sacrifice our lives for his 'grand plan'. A plan that even his closest advisers know nothing about."

Another pause.

"Soldiers, would you serve an absent lord? Would you watch your comrades die for the sake of a lone man's ego? He has failed to bring order to the core. He does not care for your lives. His only desire is to fulfill his own sick urges. I plan to restore our Empire - to give you something that you might serve proudly! To bring order and safety to our holdings!"

Mephirium trembled. Never before had he felt so moved.

"Lords, acolytes, all who would call yourself Sith. The Dark Lord would have us forget what it means to be Sith. Cooperation is commendable, and we can only hope to bring order through our alliances, but it is a Sith's place to seek more. The Dark Lord would have you worship him - would have you follow his dictations rather than your own. Our people are warriors. The strong should rule, but only so long as they serve a purpose! There must come a time when even our greatest leaders need to put down the scepter. In cases such as this, it needs to be forced!"

The trembling ceased. The subtle rumblings of the Bogan's power flowing through his body was ever-present, but he could place a handle on it for now. He let the fire simmer for now. There would be time enough to let it burn in due time.

"My fleet encircles Coruscant. My armies will descend upon the planet shortly. Lay down your weapons. Hide away in your homes. So long as you do not stand in our way, you will survive - you will thrive!"

Mephirium's lips pulled back in a pleasant smile. "Those of you with the strength to stand with us...do so, and the rewards will be boundless. Those of you foolish enough to defend the false Emperor will meet with the same fate your would-be-god shall."

Silence rang for a moment. The message cut out. The warning had been delivered.

Mephirium turned to his retinue. "Is my shuttle prepared?"

 

[Disciple]

The clockwork shuffle of a hunchbacked man was interrupted, the mechanical joints in his arm and leg stopping as nearby towers were activated - or, hijacked, it so seemed. He was 'One Sith,' which was a wholly absurd notion outside of saying "There is only One Sith; I'm it." But that didn't quite seem to be how things worked around here. Having served Vrag briefly as a sideshow attraction, he'd hobbled around the galaxy.

Losing an arm and a stomach had a way of sobering up the voices in your head.

Well, unless they were a Trandoshan Sith Lord. It was only a matter of time.

The vocalized response, echoed within the confines of the mask, left no doubts to the others passing by and around him that he was speaking to himself. Not that any were paying attention. 'Join me or die' broadcasts tended to enrapture an audience, after all. Ultimatums were fun like that. "Everything is a matter of time if you wait long enough." He chuckled, though he knew it was Lusk doing the laughing.

So what do you plan to do? Who will you side with?

"There is only one option, Lusk."

He craned his head towards the sky, crimson orbs unable to see anything through the cloud cover. "Sow further seeds of doubt into a field fertile with distrust."

 

[Subject 37]

The Dark Lords Palace - Courtyard
[member="Grozkalla"] | [member="Thrukk Gulpdar"] | [member="Laguz Vald"]

Rigor fell.

There was no drop pod. No ship. No outer hull. There was simply Rigor. A soft glowing bubble erupted around it, a soft ray shield that burned a glowing red. It scorched through the skies, a fiery red contrail following directly behind him. There was a stillness to the Droid, it did not move, it did not budge, it simply remained passive as it fell. Behind it were hundreds, perhaps thousands of similar red streaks, dozens upon dozens of small black and gray pods that burned hot as they cut through the Atmosphere of Coruscant. They fell, no thrusters assisting them and no engines drawing them forward. The gravity of Coruscant itself had ensnared them, pulling them from orbit and dragging them down.

Tumbling they went.

Falling.

Until they began to slice through Coruscant itself. One by one, Rigor at their head they came crashing into Coruscant. Through traffic, through buildings, through the people of the great city itself. The drop pods fell, the droid with them. Dozens, hundreds of them were destroyed, erupting in fiery explosions as they crashed at odd angles or ran into the wrong vehicle at the wrong time. Yet for every two that were destroyed, one landed. With a thud that shook the earth, with a quake that broke the ground itself, the drop pods landed. One by one they smashed into the metal earth of Coruscant, digging deep and locking into place as great pillars carrying naught but death.

Rigor. Rigor himself came crashing down. The shield around it seemed to disappear, the droids body shifting as the air began to whiz around it. The howling gales pushed at it, pressing at the droids body. It's feet turned, it's eyes settling on the courtyard that sat below it. The droid made a single shift, and then suddenly the loud whirring of Repulsor engines began to bloom around it. Half bright blue slashes erupted from it, the repulsor pack upon it's back springing into life and slowing it enough to survive impact.

With a heavy, metal denting thud Rigor impacted against the ground. The earth beneath it buckled and broke, cutting and slashing into the air as the solid ground was simply broken beneath it. The droid slowly looked up, it's scanners folding forward and searching out.

[Secure positions] The robotic droning would erupt over the communications band.

Saeva Incorporated had arrived.

 

[Sal Katarn]

The drop pod shrieked through Coruscant's atmosphere, one rock in a meteor shower as the mercenaries of Saeva descended upon the Dark Lord's palace. Grozkalla quailed against the crash webbing, his one eye glaring at the flames around the glowing drop pod as it passed through high atmosphere with a distillation of pure hate and terror. Flames. Flames had burned Kashyyyk. Flames had taken away his eye, licked at his fur. He remembered that hungry burning, just as he remembered the screams of his wife and children. The way she'd cried as the Blackblades peeled away her skin was seared deep into his memory, deeper than the burns across his body.

Paws quivering with rage tightened around his Kashyyyk Long Gun. There would be no mercy for them today.

The pod cratered into the ground and blew open. Grozkalla sprang forth, a terrible light in his eye. The madness of the wild.

A roar tore from his lips as he sprinted to secure the landing zone. "MUAWA MUAARGA KOURASAA!"

[member="Rigor"]

 

[Darth Ferus]

And so it begins.​

​

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VNpy2K27PKU​

​

Everyone could hear it. The call of [member="Darth Mephirium"] sounded off over the whole planet, including the small cafe Darth Ferus sat in. There was a bonus to being dead to most, and having a new face. Especially the new face. Dressed in a simple suit the Sith looked like another simple Epicanthix business man, with no hint or reason to be assumed a Sith. Ever since his fight with this usurper back on the Graug homeworld Ferus had been waiting and watching, keeping note on Coruscants defenses and such. As one could guess, there was a lot. The capital of the One Sith should be expected to be a tough nut to crack.

Not that Ferus doubted Mephirium's resolve to be able to. 501st and the Graug hordes? It was like the New Order coming back to destroy their long time rival. Heh, wouldn't that be the icing on the cake? The One Sith falls to the old army of the New Order in the end. Not that this Sith was going to participate in the larger battles. Time had taught him to stick to the sidelines, in the darkness. There he was the most lethal, even if it meant no one would know who he was. It was armor at least. Let the masses chant Mephirium's name, he'll be the target.

The television in the small cafe began to show live camera feeds to the star destroyers hovering just outside the atmosphere. A cut away followed by a panicked newscasters voice cut to the scene of [member="Rigor"] and it's droids dropping down. Most seemed to be destroyed, but the amount that landed would be more than enough. So droppods were finally integrated huh? If only the One Sith had taken that up sooner. Too late now. A cup of tea was brought to the lips of the Sith as the other patrons began to panic. As he sipped the hot liquid, a familiar joy welled up inside him.

War had come, and he couldn't be happier.

 

[Bethany Haverford]

It had been months in the making but it had borne fruit so readily, so easily, that it made it all worth it. The ease should have worried her, but this was the gateway to the real battle. There would be more fighting to come which should prove to be a challenge at the least.

If it didn't, Annie would start to worry.

Armored and armed, she had waited for her lord to achieve victory over Arcis. Though there had been a few moments of doubt, Mephirium had ultimately succeeded, and the confidence born of his victory spurred his following speech to new levels of inspiration. It may not have better prepared her for the battle to come, but it was worded to deliver ignominy to those who opposed them and fire loyalty in those who had already chosen their cause. A glorious dawn-- and all that jazz. Even she felt some additional stirrings of passion in her. She'd have to congratulate him on a speech well given later, if there was time around world domination and what not. There would be plenty to do before they had another opportunity to speak privately. Behind the safety of her visor, she observed Mephirium's face; it was changed, though she wasn't entirely certain how. If there would be an opportunity to speak semi-plainly with him again after today.

The niggling thought was pushed aside in favor of the work at hand. She glanced at Captain Varangian when Mephirium asked after his ship, but took point in the conversation. She would be the one descending to the surface with him, after all.

"The shuttle is prepared and my men await the order to strike, my lord." She paused as new information came to her; the droids were on the surface. "Our first forces have landed on Coruscant's surface in advance of our arrival. They are beginning to fortify the capital."

[member="Gulliver Foyle"] [member="Darth Mephirium"] [member="Aelius Varangian"]

 

[Soeht]

Soeht walked through a corridor on Coruscant. Both the Imperial Palace and Sith Temple were quite a distance away from him - even by speeder, it would take some time to reach either.

Next to him was his reliable partner in crime, Sonolka. Both were covered from head to toe in armor.

"Make sure the Vong are informed of everything that happens," Soeht told Sonolka.

For years, the Vong have worshiped the Dark Lord of the One Sith as a god. When he died to Darth Junra, that brought a tremendous amount of doubt in his divinity. Were he to die again - for good this time - Vong support for the One Sith might dissipate.

With her order, Sonolka gave a bow and departed.

Eventually, Soeht made his way to a balcony overlooking the Imperial Center. The massive palace was in sight in the distance along with the Sith Temple.

 

[Darth Kentarch]

Location: Dark Temple

A storm was coming. Through the force Kentarch could sense it. It rolled across the sky and stretched into the heavens, shaking worlds to their very core. To those who were gifted in the force, they would feel the disturbance too. However this was not a warning, it was not a message of a final end, it was the completion of cycle, but the anointment of the events, and announcement of a new epoch in galactic history. In the center of the galaxy a 'The Great Conspiracy' led by a Sith Lord named [member="Darth Mephirium"] stood poised to make the boldest political power play in over decade.

The Blood Dusk, A single Dark Blade Class Dreadnought cut through space as it made its voyage to Coruscant. Along with the capital ship several transports followed as the ship came into real-space above the Galactic Capital. As he arrived, the revolution was already in motion. The moment Kentarch had waited for. Descending into the lower atmosphere, the ship made an almost unhindered approach to the dark temple. It's crew devoted as they were diligent, everything had been planned and rehearsed down to every last detail. Quickly several transport ships slipped around the Blood Dusk rushed towards their intended destination. Filled with a division of mercenaries and Dolos Defense Agency contractors, it was the most Kentarch could bring from the remnant space of the former Sith Empire.

Reaching down Kentarch activated his Communicator. Opening a secret communication line he connected to a close associate of his, [member="Darth Ferus"]. "Ferus, this is Kentarch. The time has come. Dark Temple splashdown." The two had stormed the last bastion of the Imperial Remnant on Crina almost single handily, against almost insurmountable numerical odds. Darth Ferus knew the procedure, and they would have more men this time.


On the bridge of the dreadnought the communication console came to life, with demands of authorization codes and identity verification from the Dark Temple, and the New Valley of the Dark Lords. Through the force he could feel the nervous anticipation. Not just from the crew of the ship, but from the people at the temple below. Staring out across the horizon Kentarch listened as the reports came flooding in. The dark cloaked figured did not turn away from view port. After a few tense moments, the Sith Lord spoke. "Disrupt Communications." Darth Kentarch had no emotion in his voice when he spoke, no remorse, it was only ominous. "Turn the ship port. Fire torpedoes in bays four and five at HoloNet receivers." He ordered. The last breath before the deep plunge. Kentarch knew what he was doing. He watched as the photon torpedoes streaked out from their missile pods and struck the all communication hubs around the dark temple. The explosions could be seen from the bridge of the Blood Dusk, the missiles reached their targets.


"Remain in low orbit. Keep the ship above temple." Kentarch ordered, if someone shot it down. It would crash into the Dark Temple. "I want address the situation planet-side myself."


The Black Mercury made a rapid decent to the Dark Temple, catching up to the transports. There was flood of confusion at first from the New Valley and Temple defenders. Darth Kentarch looked at the handful of men who helped command his mercenary force. They stood around the holo-net table. "I told you the job before we came here. This is going to be a one way trip. We agreed to die no matter whats happens, if we lose we die. If we win and if you survive you will become a Legend." Kentarch issued the warning. One of the Sith who had joined him faced him to speak. "The Army around the temple is defended by countless men. An army, the temple's guards, the Sith, and the overseers. We have one mercenary division." Kentarch's gaze shift to him."The fewer the survivors, the greater the glory." He replied. The transports had begun landing and fire had broken out between forces, although the defending force was clearly confused on the situation. Blasters raised and sabers drawn. Anti-Air turrets tired picking off ships as they landed. Although unlike other forces, Kentarch's men did not announce their allegiance as they arrived. When gave the Temple's men little time to guess who was a friend and who was a foe.


"Wipe them all out!" Kentarch shouted as he exited his ship swiftly, Lightsaber drawn and ready.

 

[Darth Carnifex]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m3MUCZH1R-Q​

​

Even as [member="Darth Mephirium"]'s message spread through the stars corralled within the Empire's vast domain another fleet dropped in at the very perimeter of the Coruscant star system, a small flotilla of Wyyrlok-class Star Destroyers led by a single Primeval-class Tactical Star Destroyer, the Ruination. They anchored themselves against the backdrop of a nearby star, holding their position as they allowed Mephirium's forces to start their own assault against the Imperial capital. The individual who's figure cut an imposing image prowled back and forth across the Ruination's bridge as a steady stream of technical readouts and constantly updated developments happening at the capital. Most of the men and women who operated on the Star Destroyer's bridge were Epicanthix like the the towering individual himself, all of whom were deeply loyal to the Sith Lord not only because of his strength both physically and in the Force, but because of the shroud of reverence and worship that had surrounded him ever since he transcended the barriers between the living and the dead.

Deep in the cavernous hold of the Star Destroyer mingled an assembled host of dark-plated Blackblade Guardsmen, Fornow Graug warriors and smiths, Vanr warlocks and sky-centurions, Fanalis berserkers, and companies of Imperial soldiers loyal to the Epicanthix Sith Lord. However; while they were prepping for the onset of a battle, the Sith Lord had no intention at this moment to deploy them onto the capital to fight either the Dark Lord loyalists or these new insurgents. For now he was content to wait and asses the situation, gathering all the necessary data before embroiling his forces in what could be a prolonged skirmish in the labyrinthine ecumenopolis that made up the planet's surface. The fleet that idled listlessly in the emptiness of space was merely a fraction of the military might he was capable of deploying against such perceived traitors, but he was not yet willing.

For he himself also believed that the Dark Lord no longer held the interests of the Sith, and the Empire by extension, as his own. Much like Darth Wyyrlok the III before both Vornskr and Mephirium they believed that the Dark Lord needed to be permanently disposed of so that the Sith could grow, could evolve, and could adapt to an every changing galaxy. They had grown fat on total, unopposed victory for the last several years, and now they stood precariously upon the precipice above the looming pit of destruction yet again. Vornskr had been at the forefront of the Sith's destruction once before in his lifetime, and he was not about to let all that he had worked for be thrown away by fools who were too unwilling to accept change. Yet he knew that his own goals and ambitions could collide with this Mephirium's, and that would eventually lead to confrontation.

But if they could work together to bring down the Dark Lord, whom Vornskr knew of his power personally and was hesitant to fight him alone, then he was willing to let him have his way with the loyalist forces before revealing himself. An Imperial officer decorated as a Major patiently waited at a good distance away from the stalking Sith Lord until his presence had been acknowledged, and when it finally was he was only allowed to stand a minimum of two meters away.

"Milord, the field reports have returned. Shall we ready our ground troops for deployment and flank the Insurgents?"

The Sith Lord's reply was instant, "Not yet, Major. Prepare my shuttle for departure, I shall be going down there alone for now."

The officer was quite taken aback by this order, his face visibly draining of color yet he found that his tongue did not have the capability to argue that traveling practically alone into what could be considered a warzone littered with potentially hostile forces was suicide, so instead he merely swallowed hard and gave a curt salute before scampering away to do his duty. Vornskr didn't even watch the man retreat from his presence, his eyes already transfixed on a distant speck where the true show was still unfolding.

And so it begins, he thought, the future of the Empire now hangs in the balance.

 

[Catalys Maijora]

“Your loyalty is in question,” surrounding Catalys was an ominous, monotone voice.

The sunlight reflected off of Courscant’s atmosphere, glinting across the surface of the agent’s flagship. For the first time in his life, Catalys’ heart raced, it didn’t do so in any predictable manner. Beats jumped here and there, forcing him to pick up his breath which was only amplified by the helmet’s respirator. His eyelids barely remained open…

How many days?

He couldn’t remember the last time he slept. Yet the force that surrounded him was crushing, his mind on the verge of shattering. He wanted to speak, but only his heavy breaths escaped when his lips parted. They were dry, pale, and chapped. His face flushed, and droplets of sweat secreted from the pores along his visage.

The presence swept around him, and even his Umbaran eyes saw no light through the darkness. “Serve me. Prove your loyalty; or die.” Familiar words...

Join us or die.

That was once the voice of Anja when she spoke to the Gulandi. Once more he had to prove he was loyal, and already forces were working against the One Sith and their Dark Lord. Offering a bow from his waist, Catalys took three steps back; nearly stumbling.

“Yes.” Only in his compliance could he speak. The invisible hand that held him relinquished its grip, and the presence faded from the room almost instantly. Turning around with a stern notion floating through his thoughts, Catalys marched up towards the viewdeck. A fleet of Star Destroyers — disloyal to the cause — dropped out of Hyperspace and faced the ecumenopolis with resentment.

The deck officer approached Catalys from behind. “They’re here,” the aged man spoke in a coarse tone.

Let them come.

[member="Darth Mephirium"]

 

[Eldaah Aderyn]

[member="Darth Mephirium"]

At the Lord's side, she had not expected the coup to take place so soon. The Kaggath had been a smart move to gain a rapid infusion of hulls and forces for the assault, and now bedlam and chaos would be unleashed on the One Sith capital. Too many forces had been shifted to deal with the Galactic Alliance, but the defenses of Coruscant were extensive.

One of her small probe droids was perched on her shoulder, the other two had been deployed to the surface to stream information to her visor at real time. She was garbed in her armor, the lightsaber at her belt, but she suspected it would be Lord Mephirium who would be revealing his power here. She would accompany him to the surface, and observe and fight if necessary. The time for change had come to the Sith, evolution required sacrifices after all.

"Others will be coming, both in support of us and the Dark Lord's forces," she said quietly, her voice modulated as always. "The Voices are unknown quantities in which way they will go. We would do well not to commit everything we have into the attack if enemies might still arrive, my Lord."

 

[Caulder Dune]

THE DARK LORD'S PALACE
INTERIOR

Darth Adekos moved the curtain away from the window so that he could peer outside of it. He could see the fire in the sky, the drop pods smashing into the courtyard. Was that Saeva Incorporated? "Oh dear." Shuttles were touching down, dispatching traitorous soldiers to secure the courtyard. They wouldn't be assaulting the palace from just one position. This was all happening far too quickly and in too great a force. To think he'd almost laughed in Mephirium's face when he dropped that line about hundreds of thousands of soldiers. Even if this assault was somehow repelled, it was going to be incredibly messy. A Pyrrhic victory. Best case scenario.

He had never been one to entertain best case scenarios.

The Umbaran harshly yanked the curtain back into place and stalked away from the window. Outnumbered or not, he had a responsibility here. The unified rule provided by the current Dark Lord was as good as it got. A coup like this would be nothing more than an invitation for anarchy and infighting, the first signal of the decline of something that had yet to destroy the Republic. Or Chazwan Rump State as it was more accurately called these days. It still existed, which couldn't be permitted. Only when the One Sith held total sway over the rest of the Republic's former territory would he finally be satisfied. With the resources of the Coreward worlds, subjugation of the Outer Rims could begin more effectively...

A vision that was becoming more and more jeopardized every moment. His commlink cackled to life in his ear, reaching out to anyone stationed within the palace. "Someone tell me I'm not the only loyalist in here." Darth Adekos paused for a moment as a nearby explosion wracked the building. He almost stumbled down the stairs. "Quickly, before I defect."

 

[Grudge The Grutt]

PLANET: CORUSCANT
MISSION: PROVIDE REINFORCEMENTS

An eye for an eye, a revolution for a revolution. The day of reckoning had arrived, and Grudge found himself working restlessly, straining his entire staff beyond their limits to crank out a certain earth-shattering force that would surge Darth Mephirium to victory. Calls had been made, contacts gained, tools of war acquired all for the sake of this very day. Grudge's centuries worth of research, intel gathering, trial and error with experimentation had permitted his new ally, [member="Darth Mephirium"], with a certain token of appreciation none of the planet would soon come to forget. Respectively, from the coast of the planet, two Lancer class freighters found themselves leering just above the gravitational pull the planet possessed. Grudge, receiving the sight from a feed back in his base of operations on Ession, also granted by Mephirium, would bash a trembling tendril onto his grand-sized table, barking out the single command:

"BEGIN!"

From the two colossal sized freighters, a few shards of purple were launched. They posed no thread, at least until a mere second passed, the twenty shards of purple growing into two hundred. The two would grow into one thousand, one thousand into ten thousands. The skies were suddenly filled with an amassing shadow, thousands upon thousands of shards of spiraling and descending purple aimed to pierce directly into downward and into the planet's surface. Come the time anything with average sight could spot these massive shards of purple, they had amassed to total estimation of twenty thousand escape pods. Yes, Escape pods. The skies were, in literal terms, swallowed by purple, appearing as a collective swarm of ..*cough* Purple Rain! They pierced through sky, air and the sense of realism for anyone who'd witness such a sight.

Denying any delay, the escape-pods riddled the very planet with small craters due to the immense speed by which they struck the earth, paving way for the new age in evolution and the NEW Dark Lord that would lead them. Suddenly, thousands upon thousands purple escape-pods were stuck in the ground, a brief moment of silence appearing upon the soon to be battlefield of Coruscant. One pod would crack open, the entire number of escape pods simultaneously following its action, cracking open to reveal an army for the ages. Mutants, adorned in heavy armor and 2.4 meter tall structures armed with blaster rifles and heavy armor. The collection of their similarly colored armors cloaked view of the very earth itself. Their numbers were scattered about the outskirts of the Dark Temple. "This is the day..." Grudge would bark from his office.

"A NEW LORD WILL RISE TO POWER. GEHA..HAHA..GEHAHAHAHHAAA! Enjoy, Mephirium!"

A collective roar from the armies of mutants broke loose, ear deafening and symbolic for the ensuing change to come. They had previously been wired to act upon Mephirium's command. However, until his arrival, they would take arms with their provided blaster rifles, aiming to rain hell upon the Dark Temple as they advanced in armies. Despite their numbers, armor and weapons, a crippling portion had been blown out of the sky before they landed, others struck down after they commenced battle. Their numbers were dwindling, and stuff at that. Oddly enough, however, a certain instrumental was heard across the designated location this entire battle would be occurring. The Dark Temple. It rang needlessly in the ears of anything that possessed hearing, becoming increasingly louder as the source pierced directly through the clouds, revealing itself to be a colossally sized Lancer class Freighter.

The very air seemed to buckle, bend and thicken around the heating freighter piercing itself into the atmosphere. If the purple rain from earlier didn't provide enough of a shadow for folks, this would certainly do the trick. With no means of hesitation, the enormous freighter came descending upon the Dark Palace, aiming to crash NOT directly on, but nearby it and ensue destruction upon catastrophic proportions. To make matters worse, the majority of the Freighter's power was draining itself into project a certain singer's voice, Grudge's Professional Singing Assistant: Eleda, across a massively wide distance. What was this song, you might ask? You'd wish you didn't. Because---

The young, the famous, the beautiful and talented Eleda had been singing her top hit single. And No man, child or Dark Lord would be spared of hearing her last performance as the massive freighter descended into the Dark Palace.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YQHsXMglC9A​

"HEEELLLOOOO...."

"ITT'S MEEE~"

From the opposite angle, another Lancer class Freighter had made its way into the atmosphere, aiming to descend NEARBY the Palace as well. Seems Destruction was going to know a new meaning on this day. And that meaning was Grudge-----'s lack of karks given! THIS WAS WAR! THIIIIS WASSS SPAARRTAA!

"J-..Hey Johanne. Have my special 'get karked' mug made. Think we'll be shipping it to the Old Dark Lord's funeral." He requested of his assistant while leaning back on his chair, taking a hefty puff of three cigars stucked in his mouth and lit simultaneously. Ahhhh~ The good stuff.

 

[Jairus Starvald]

THE DARK LORD'S PALACE
INTERIOR
[member="Darth Adekos"]

The mindless and senseless thought that it was blood that made the warmachine run, that it was somehow the true substitute for good old fashion oil to keep everything smooth, efficient and above all effective. The truth was different though. The truth was more boring and tedious. The truth was that a proper warmachine was mostly run on paperwork, mounts of it, hordes, whole mountains of the stuff. Logistics kept everything and everyone supplied, but there was always a gatekeeper at the end of it - a sentient being who needed to sign off on things to ensure everything kept on trudging along.

Carach was this man for the eastern front. And that was what he was doing in his own personal office within the Dark Lord's palace. The Emperor had secluded himself from his loyalists, his Voices hadn't seen him in many months... even the Eye was denied access.

Some wondered, plotted, but this particular Voice of the Dark Lord had his duty.

How the mighty have fallen that it was Carach who was the loyal one.

"They want... better boots?" he uttered in disbelief as he read one of the reports. One of the aides looked up from her datapad, a frown passed her brows before looking back down, but that curiousity was still there.

"M'lord?"

Carach grunted. "It seems that some of the soldiers have been complaining about muddy surfaces during their campaigns. They want better boots."

Ah... the times that they could have just send a horde of Yuuzhan Vong at their problem until it went away. It was better this way, of course. Those mindless beasts were a menace to everything they had built - Selvaris had shown that, but it was still a logistic nightmare most of the time. Now that they had to actually pay attention to their soldiers on a greater scale in the war.

The Voice signed, before shaking his head. "Boots. As I live and breathe. Get this to-" as he extended the memo his table rocked.

"What the hel-"

Another explosion sounded in the courtyard. Amber filled his eyes as he grasped for the Darkside of the Force. Power flowed through every inch of his body. His senses increased tenfold as he was suddenly aware of conflict brewing all around them. The aide gasped, looking at her Liege, before looking back at her table with the neatly-stacked paperwork.

"Leave it." Carach cut right through her throught process. "Get out of here. You have a brief window of opportunity to slip away in the chaos."

His attention was already focused on other things. Namely the comm link that went off with the haughty and currently anxious voice of his friend, Adekos.

"Adekos, take a breather. Now there are two loyalists in this place. Where are you?"

 

[Darth Prazutis]

When [member="Darth Mephirium"]'s message went through the vast holdings of the mighty Empire, unbeknownst to the man a darkness exited hyperspace over the capital. The Black Iron War Fleet made its mighty presence known to all in orbit, the many Wyyrlok-Class Star Destroyers surrounding the large and infamous Primeval Tactical-Class Star Destroyer Ruination. For any other planet, any other situation other than this one the full might of this fleet would already be bearing down upon the unfortunate victims planetside. However this time the fleet sat idle in perfect formation just outside the range of defensive weaponry while the fleet of Darth Mephirium moved to engage in combat.

Ever since his return from the vastness of the chaos that was the Netherworld, his master [member="Darth Vornskr"] had talked about the terrible state the Empire had continually spiraled down towards. The Empire had become bloated, gluttonous over the many unstoppable victories they had achieved. But once more the Sith were on the verge of a level of destruction on par with what tore apart the old Sith Empire in the north. The long and uncontested reign of the Dark Lord was what was best at the time, it was a step in the right direction after the many civil wars fought for the Imperial Crown in the old Empire. But they could only come to the conclusion that the Dark Lord no longer had the Sith's best interests as his own. The Dark Lord has become the only thing standing between annihilation, and evolution towards a new future.

Braxus was no stranger to armed rebellion, years prior he fought alongside his master in the Panathan Civil War, and after his masters victory they had shaped a new society. The Panathan Empire was destroyed and a new modernized and less archaic nation formed in its place: The Kainate Authority. The Sith would survive, they would not lose everything they fought so hard for, and both Master and Apprentice agreed that it didn't matter how many people had to die for this to happen. Braxus wore a long flowing black cloak and pulled up hood over a set of black alchemically strengthened durasteel armor. The Sith was a shadow moving unopposed through the halls of the star destroyer, until he had arrived at his destination.

The Unholy Ghost, as they so often called him flashed the decorated major a maddening grin that clearly unnerved the exiting individual and quickened his pace. Braxus knelt before his master, waiting patiently for his hand gesture to rise before peacefully walking up to Kaine's side. "You said this day would come, and that you would be called upon to bring peace to all this chaos once more, everything that you prophesied has come true." Braxus said as he turned to his master, clearly his thought were on the coming hours "All of your plans are in motion and I have done as you requested. I am ready to stand by your side down there, my lord in the fight to come." Braxus said strongly.

 

[Azula Tindara]

Courtyard

[member="Rigor"] [member="Grozkalla"]

Thou bonnie wood of Craigielee,
Thou bonnie wood of Craigielee,
Near thee I've spent life's early day,
And won my Mary's heart in thee.

“Ack ‘at one was close!” Thrukk shouted to himself as the tiny metal coffin shuddered. The massive Houk so despised small spaces. Once it had resumed its smooth flight he returned to singing. Not much scared the veteran pit fighter, but this did. And he'd fought an Acklay with his bare hands.

The broom, the brier, the birken bush,
Bloom bonnie on thy flow'ry lea;
And a' the sweets that ane can wish,
Frae Natur's hand are strew'd on thee.

Finally he was interrupted by the pod crashing down to the surface and the air was knocked from his lungs. If he'd been singing on the open channel, Laguz would have been quite pleased. They were now at the business end of the trip. The door launched itself free.

“Naethin' loch a bit ay fresh air when there's mudder tae be done!” the ogre exclaimed as he stepped out in a cloud of smoke, his cigarra already glowing. Hearing the order over Saeva's battle network, he turned to remove his gear from the pod.

“Secure positions he says? Nae e'en time fur a reek efter th' ride in th' coffin ay insanity! Pah!” His organic hand manipulated the catches as he released his gear and started double checking his weapons. The more agile members of the mercenary company formed the perimeter.

"That's th' spirit big man ye lit it aw out!" Thrukk shouted encouragingly to the raging wookie. He turned to a human merc on the opposite side, keeping the back of his head towards Grozkalla flashing a grin of pure amusement.

Thrukk turned back away from the pod. He was carrying an arsenal fit for an infantry company and was in exceptional spirits. Today was going to be a good day.

 

[Caulder Dune]

THE DARK LORD'S PALACE
INTERIOR

[member="Darth Carach"]

A monotonous baritone was the only response Adekos got on his commlink. Darth Carach. Well, as far as two-man last stands went, he could have done far worse. The last thing Darth Adekos wanted was to be felled in heated battle, buried under no-name acolytes he had never met before. Well, dying in general was the last thing Adekos wanted, really. Suffice to say he would do his token amount of fighting and then flee as fast as his legs could carry him. Responsibility and some misplaced sense of respect would bound him to stick around for at least that long. But the minute the Dark Lord expired, this Umbaran had no intentions of sticking around to be menaced by a hostile regime.

Adekos continued to hurry down the stairs, eventually reaching the bottom and continuing through the corridors of the palace. "I'm on the ground floor, heading for the entrance to his grace's chambers."

He was on the fence as to whether or not he should try to force the Dark Lord to make an appearance. This was, after all, his legitimacy on the line here. Not Adekos'. When Shorn and his band of not-so-merry anarchists had blown down the doors to the throne room and demanded Tyrin Ardik's head, that pompous emperor at least made an effort to fight alongside his followers. Surely the Dark Lord, in all his splendorous wisdom and power, would give his followers the same courtesy.

Right?

"What's the status on the palace's garrison? More importantly, is anyone coming to help us?"

 

[Disciple]

Approaching DARK LORD'S PALACE
[member="Darth Carach"] [member="Darth Adekos"]

Whirr-click went his joints. His shawl was blown about by winds created by the massive displacement of atmosphere that often accompanied a planetary assault. Up the stairs, into the Palace. No one was stopping him because he didn't want them to. That's how this worked. So by the magic of plot armor he finds his way into the loyalist's Space Alamo and looks about. Two Lords.

Two Lords and an ant.

"Thank you Lussk."

Not a problem, ant.

"Just try and root for the underdog. It's not a civil war when it's not an even contest."

 

[Jairus Starvald]

THE DARK LORD'S PALACE
INTERIOR
---
[member="Darth Adekos"] | [member="Drana'stair'eno"]

Some would have quickened their pace in the face of their possible demise. Not Carach. He listened patiently to Adekos, his answer, his questioning and most importantly the distinct direction his mind was taking right now. Concerned, prone to try and do something... unwise. Trying to force the Dark Lord to do anything would probably not end all that well for anyone involved.

"Please wait there and don't do anything... hasty."

Standing up from his chair Carach surveyed the office room. It was surprisingly light in terms of keepsakes; a few floating datacrons, a single painting of a mountain and a cane leaning against opposite wall. Polished, deep red, humming.

The only thing that was worth having in this entire room frankly.

"And I have no idea." the Sith responded belatedly while walking out the door, grabbing the cane and maneuvering towards Adekos' location. "His Lordship deemed it vital to exclude the current chain of command from his personal guard."

"I am nearly there. Feel free to contact them at your leisure, maybe the threat of invasion will rouse them."

 

[Vilaz Munin]

Location: [member="Darth Vornskr"]'s flagship
Gear:

Spoiler

-Beskar'gam w/ poncho and jetpack
-Orar'bev
-Two dual WESTAR 34 pistols
-Four anti force user flashbangs
-Fett-Kal knife

Civil War with the ranks of the Sith? Who would've thought of that on this day? Surely, with the machinery of the One Sith defeating the Republic at every single battle, no such thing could ever occur to the Dark Lord and his subordinates. Well, quite frankly, Vilaz was wrong on his hypothesis. He could care less if the One Sith were destroying themselves from the inside which would give the Galactic Republic the hopes of blindsiding their mortal enemies and seize their first victory since the battle of Carida; however, he was employed as Darth Vornskr's personal Bounty Hunter which obligated him to help the Sith Lord in overthrowing the current reigning Dark Lord. He already had a civil war to mediate on Mandalore, and now here was looking down at the industrial city-planet of Corusant awaiting direct orders from the Epicanthix Sith Lord. At least he was getting paid good credits to come and invest his time and skills on this Sith Civil War.

Upon the bridge of the Ruination the Warrior fully clad in his personal armor, that made him unique from the other men and women operating and maneuvering the Star Destroyer, and heavily armed with his personal weapons. No one interacted him and no one dared to provoke the Mandalorian. Of course, some would think in their minds that they didn't need bounty hunting scum aboard their vessel and help Lord Vornskr and his associates in overthrowing the Dark Lord and his loyalists. As if they were mighty and superior than the Field Marshal.

He scoffed and stood where he was until Darth Vornskr gave him something to do.