Emperor My Emperor

[Hawke]

@[member="Dranok Lussk"]

A cold wind blew from the northern sky. Hawke's cheeks were reddened by this unnatural anomaly. Dromund Kaas was warm and wet, typically. Perhaps there was a storm moving in. One to be as turbulent as the day before. The girl simply snugged her greatcoat tighter and marched forward like a good soldier should. The citadel rose above her as testate to this nations past glory; and hopefully spoke of that to come. Now what was a navel Captain doing at the Emperor's Palace you may ask? That was a question she didn't entirely know; paying her respects in one way of another was the best answer I can give.

Hawke pressed forth. The stairs were conquered by her jackboots. The doorway was guarded of course. The large royal guards all lined up in a row like it was a ceremony. She had a trump card for getting in though. A tribute to the new Emperor; most likely the first of his reign. A Sith Holocron from the Umbaran Shadow Academy. Recovered by her and the apprentices a few days ago. They knew what it was. Ancient, laced with the Dark Side of the force. Those in tune with the force probably felt it slowly making its was closer to them. No longer protected in its old halls, safe from disturbing anyone but the Umbaran Shadow Assassins who held it. Hawke stuffed the relic back in her pocket. "Take me to the throne room".

Escorted she was, to the broken throne of @[member="Tyrin Ardik"]. She nearly wept at the sight of this hall. Shattered. The guards who brought her here were left to wait despite their barking objections to her advancing steppes. They soon fell silent. Hawke stepped between the twisted gates. Shards of the obsidian throne littered the floor. Blood, ash, scars. Captain Hawke's jackboots stepped through this horrid mess. She stopped but a step before the throne, removing her cap to place across her heart. Softly and quietly she sung a short poem "Emperor my Emperor I have lost you. Shall I take flight to the night. Or rally my strength, and take up my blade. Keep your spirit alive". Tears fell from her for a short time kept in silence. Hawke placed a hand upon the right arm of this broken throne. A jagged stone shard cut through her glove, narrowly missing her fingers. The Sith cycle had sadly continued.

 

[Judas of Vahl]

Adorned with a brand new uniform bearing the insignia of the Empire, his entire mental state in a buzz of activity as cogs and gears shifted into place to create long links of plots, operations, and desires. A pair of Imperial Guards flanked him, their attention focused outwards as their new superior strolled forth into his mess of a throne room. Debris, blood, scorch marks, all of this peppered the floors and walls of the not-so extravagant room. Guards and other personnel milled about the room, cleaning up the wreckage of a recent coup. Though it happened hours prior to this moment, it felt as if it'd been a year ago. Dranok had immediately began indoctrinating his beliefs, reforming authority, and pushing for progress.

This was his Empire now.

Throughout the aftermath of the battle, he felt a darkness growing from near the centre of the room. His golden eyes scoured the area in search for the dark tendrils, not easily spotting them midst the surrounding death and destruction. A grin spread across his lips as he caught a young woman standing near the throne, an abnormal looking object in her hands. The newly christened Emperor changed his destination and closed the distance.

"Young woman, what might you be carrying?"
@[member="Hawke Katamirth"]

 

[Hawke]

@[member="Dranok Lussk"]

Hawke paused as a voice from behind called out in a questioning tone. Inquiring to the object that gained her entrance to the most secure area of the entire Imperium. She hadn't turned to face her inquisitor yet. She removed her hand of the thrones destroyed remnants to bring both arms up and place her cap back atop her head. "I carry on my shoulders the sorrow of this nation. And its want to say goodbye to Emperor Tyrin Ardik". Hawke wiped the remaining tears from her cheeks as she brought her arms back to side. "I have completed that task now". She turned to face this now Emperor from upon the thrones perch. And down cast was her gaze piercing as a lightsaber. "You see just the power in my pocket though. An old holocron from the Shadow Academy of Umbara. I'm sure it holds many ancient secrets you'd love to know. In fact I hold the entirety of the Academies archives and treasures. Saved from the Republic on orders from yon high". The reliquary was brought from the darkness of her greatcoat to the view of the Emperor. Swung out in front of the throne to tell him who ordered to retrieve it. Most defiantly he saw the darkness it radiated, for he questioned her on it. Now he knew. "Dranok Lussk. Emperor of the Sith. I'm sure you've heard it already but; unexpected. And congratulations. News is already know to me on what transpired. Shorne is the fellow to hate. And I may not be plotting to murder Emperors as he did, but my ambitions are great. Tyrin's removal of the throne left me with a great deal of 'influence' I can use. So if you're willing to negotiate for my treasure. We can do so... Emperor". Tough as Beskar in the face of someone who could rip her asunder with his mind. And probably had half a mind to so. Hawke didn't lay cards down that wouldn't be a surefire win. Lussk could do that mind to body tear her in two thingy, but that'd only net him a single holocron and the loss of everything else. They outa call her Hawke 'Outmaneuvered Ya' Katamith. She held that holocron closer to her, a pleasant smile across her face.

 

[Gorba the Hutt]

A too-good looking man who stank of nobility with the refinement of his carriage and dress strode through the rubble. Bright green eyes took everything in with a sort of lackadaisical calm not so common among Sith. His right hand was covered in a glove. Tycho did not enjoy flashing around the fact that his sword hand was actually cybernetic. He wore a sword at his belt, another uncommon sight among not just Sith, but the entire galaxy. The sword was in fact a Sith Tremor sword and Tycho was a Bladeborn. One of the last of that noble order.

The Tapani nobleman strode through the shredded room, boots crunching on obsidian shards.

"I see I've just missed my brother," Tycho said, more to himself than anyone else. "How..." green eyes fell on the shattered throne. "Tragic."

He stood patiently behind Hawke, a disarmingly cheerful smile on his features.