Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Private Exhumation

Machines Making Machines
Teeth Feel Cold - The Great Vorelli



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TAIGA WILDERNESS - JAEMUS

The taiga was supposedly beautiful to the eyes of organics. Antipater found little to be excited about. It was the blackened bunker in the heart of this forest that caught his photoreceptors. Worn and pock-marked with time, scorched here and there from the recent firefight.

Dead cultists were slumped here and there. His droids were still in the process of collecting the corpses for disposal in a pile that would later be ignited. Snowtroopers milled about nervously. The cold air was harsh, hovering well below the freezing point for water, but it was the structure that made them nervous. Something was off about it, they told themselves.

But these were the misplaced feelings of lower-form sentients. The fact that they could be made squeamish was one of the many reasons Antipater considered himself much superior to them.

Lieutenant Startop hovered near Antipater. "It's not one of ours. No records of it from the old regime. These extremists," The old cyborg gestured half-heartedly at the bodies, breathing apparatus clicking away, "Definitely didn't build it."

"How peculiar."

"It's pre-Gulag, based on the scans. They were trying to open it."

"Trying? The structure is only composed of treated durasteel. It's hardly impregnable."

"It seems they believed that a sensitive approach was necessary…" Startop breathed uneasily, and the apparatus that masked half his face clicked and whirred.

"Sensitive. Of course," Antipater repeated absently. The droid clasped his hands behind his back. "Blow it open."

---​

It only took a few minutes to clear the area and position their accompanying tank correctly. The gunners lined up the shot and fired the main battery. The report of a turbolaser shook the surrounding forest, and a bright green bolt smashed into the bunker's doors.

When the dust settled, the dark heart of the bunker was laid bare for them to see. The blast doors had been disintegrated, and chunks of the doorway had been blown within and without.

"I will inspect the structure's interior personally. Please maintain the perimeter in my absence."

Startop stared wordlessly after Antipater with his lonely yellow eye. The moff was quickly joined by a pair of his own battle droids, marching in as easily as if they had been invited.

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The bunker was both his tomb as well as his prison.

It was not supposed to be like this.

After the fall of his regime some of his loyalists had managed to penetrate the prison they had kept him in. The bunker was supposed to be his sanctum, a place where his body would be safe while it healed from the trauma of the torture his enemies had put him through. Instead it had become his grave when almost overnight the Gulag Plague swept across the Galaxy.

All communication was cut. The organic servitors, bio-alchemized by his own hand, fell first. To sickness or strife. The automated synthetic caretakers went next as rust and decay got to them.

If it wasn't for the zero-point energy drawing energy right into the facility his healing chamber would have failed too and Cambyses along with it. Instead he was kept in a state of stasis. Suspended between real-time and the chemical wonders of cryo-sleep. His body recovered, albeit slowly, but there was nobody there to send an all-clear signal and wake him from his slumber.

Until Antipater Antipater 's tank destroyed the front door. It caused a surge through the systems of the bunker, causing it to fall into emergency protocols. The lights dimmed and began to flashing with red warning signs. Automated defense systems attempted to engage but they had failed centuries ago. That caused a negative feedback loop, more and more systems trying to engage and defend the pod within and failing. Until the system saw no choice but to violently throw Cambyses out of his cryo-slumber as a last measure of defense.

Eyes snapped open as reality flickered into existence for the Sith Lord.

"Where... what..." His voice cracking in disuse. He tried to stand up and barely managed to avoid falling on his face. While the pod had preserved his physique, his mind was in a state of disuse. The room around him was in ruins, but he barely saw it. His focus was on the sensation of danger... somewhere there but coming closer.

He got up.

His weapons were gone, his suit of armor too. Just a medical outfit to keep him comfortable in stasis. But Cambyses faced steeper odds in the past, this would be but a blip... a small obstacle before he figured out what had happened.
 
Machines Making Machines

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Antipater was dimly aware of the bunker's defenses attempting to activate and failing harmlessly. It was to be expected. Five hundred years was quite some time. Circuits frayed. Batteries ran dry. Rust reached deep.

By his standards, it was a leisurely meander through the facility. There was not much worth inspecting. Jaemus already possessed the necessary technology to replicate turrets, alarms, and bunkers. There must have been some manner of treasure stored here, elsewise the Sith Awakening movement would not have shown up here.

The doors to the final room were jammed. His droids pulled them apart and jammed them open. Antipater was momentarily surprised to find a ruined medical bay, and a not-so ruined arkanian rolling about in the filth. He scanned the room. Nothing of value. Not even a functioning terminal.

Just the arkanian.

All this excitement and the great treasure of this place was yet another mouth to feed. Antipater would have sighed if he had the requisite anatomy. This had been a waste of time.

"Collect him," Antipater gestured to the arkanian.

The droids wordlessly marched in and went to roughly seize Cambyses by his arms, hauling him to his feet to be dragged out.

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Antipater Antipater

Suddenly there were droids or rather droids and one Droid.

He rose up to meet them in battle and then their metallic limbs were around his shoulders and arms. "What? Unhand me. How dare you touch me." He hissed or would have if his voice was not cracked in disuse. It still came out but remarkably less impressive. "You fools, do you know who it is you are manhandling?"

The Arkanian tried to raise himself to his full height but the droids just continued to drag him.

"It is I, Cambyses.You should tremble if you knew what is good for you."

They did not seem to know what was good for them.

He closed his eyes to gather the Force necessary to crush these cretins. Right as he was about to smash them apart, it seemed to slip through his fingers instead, leaving him shuddering in cold and indignity. Oh, oh, the indignity. He'd pay them all two-fold, nay, three-fold. He would build a cairn for these droids.

A whole planet as their tomb.

This he swore.

Cambyses coughed. "Can I have a blanket at least? It is really cold."
 

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