Diplomacy Hidden Hands | Shadows of the Empire Pt. 1

[Sora Mohc]

Velzari Tharn | Shannic Wulf | Janus Vipsanius | @Others​

Nar Shaddaa, The Smuggler's Moon
Undercity Dockyards, Level 47-E



Once a promising world of technological innovation, Nar Shaddaa had long since decayed into a cesspool of desperation and wealth. It's neon lit canyons were home to the filth of the galaxy, the brokers of flesh and spice, and the decaying monuments of the Hutts. But now it bore witness to something altogether different, the silent return of Imperial order cloaked in the shrouded precision of Operation: Cinder. High above, the clouds churned with the polluted breath of smog vents and atmospheric engines from the depths beneath the high rises. Then, with an almost reverent silence, a low-rumbling shadow slipped between the towers. An Ommin-class Sith Infiltration Shuttle descended, its engines whispering as it approached it's target. Black as the void, its angled hull bore no insignia, only subtle ridges of armor and sensor disruptors betraying its military nature.

The shuttle came down slow, ominously lowering itself upon the exterior landing platform with it's struts hissing out, locking into the ferrocrete pad. A small tremor was sent through the rust-ridden deck of the landing platform below. Holo-cameras shorted, street rats fled, and ambient power flickered across several junctions as the Ommin's electromagnetic field pulsed once,.

An intentional disturbance.

Steam hissed outward from the underbelly craft, within moments it's ramp lowered, hydraulics groaning. From its descending ramp, a lone figure emerged. Sora Mohc , a towering figure clad in red carmine armor, his cloak dragging across the grit and grime of Nar Shaddaa's underbelly like blood in water. His helmet, shaped from the style of the Imperial Knights, had been reshaped to match his new allegiance: no longer a servant of the New Imperial Order, but a shield of the Grand Vizier of the Dark Empire. His expression remained hidden, his posture unyielding. Once, he had sworn his life to the late Rurik Fel , a man of unshakeable will and noble doctrine. In the fires of the Core Wars, Mohc had burned away his old vows, what remained was steel. Loyalty. Obedience. Not to light or dark, but to order.... Ignacious Korvan had offered him that, at least before he too met his demise at the hands of the Galactic Alliance. He stepped to the side of the ramp, flanked by two fellow Royal Guards, each descending with mirrored precision. At the base of the ramp, they turned to face one another, ceremonial, practiced, forming the path for their superior.

Then came Mohc again, pivoting into formation as his cloak swirled around his armored legs. The city stank of filth, but Mohc stood unmoved. He found the place repugnant, a rusting carcass of civilization, where the Black Sun wore crowns of rotted gold. He stood tall, unmoved as Janus Vipsanius , robed and crowned in his ridiculous ecclesiastical regalia, descended the ramp behind him. The Minister was smiling, always smiling, that unsettling twitch of zealotry behind his aged eyes. A creature of darkness if he had ever seen one up close.

And then the storm's eye emerged.

Grand Vizier Shannic Wulf , cold, regal, and absolute in her bearing. She had come to meet with Prince Velzari Tharn of the Black Sun and strike a new accord. Blood for credits, fear for power, infinite opportunity. And Sora Mohc, once a protector of the Iron Sun, would ensure no harm befell the Grand Vizier.

 

[Shannic Wulf]

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Velzari Tharn | Janus Vipsanius | Sora Mohc

She stepped into the light.

The wind stirred the hem of her cloak as she emerged onto the landing platform, descending with the silence of finality. Steam curled about her feet, dispersing at her advance. Her presence required no announcement; even the guttering lights above flickered once, as if in reflex.

Her attire was sovereign and unyielding. Black robes flowed from her shoulders in structured layers, matte and voluminous, designed not for elegance but for dominion. Beneath the cloak gleamed a carapace of glossy armour, lacquer-dark and mirror-smooth, shaped to a precise feminine form without softness. Chains of ceremonial metal crossed her chest in a draped sigil of rank, interwoven with medallions bearing the insignia of the Dark Empire. A broad belt, heavy with a gold clasp, cinched the robes with imperial finality. The entire ensemble was without compromise. Every detail pronounced command.
Her hood was drawn, framing hair of iron grey swept back in severe precision. Her face, pale and sharp beneath the cowl, was carved in calm judgement. There was no warmth, but neither cruelty. Simply inevitability.

Shannic Wulf did not look at Mohc as she passed him, but she felt the weight of his stance, the calm in his bearing. He had been reforged in fire. Once a knight of faltering empires, now a shield to something enduring. She trusted him. That was rare.

The tower ahead loomed tall and silent, blank-faced behind the shimmer of rain. No greeting party. No gestures of diplomacy. Velzari Tharn remained unseen. Predictable. The Black Sun dealt in spectacle, but never offered the first move.

She did not need to see him. She knew the type. Cloaked in rot and wealth, surrounded by thieves and sycophants. But influence was not the same as power. That belonged elsewhere.

Janus Vipsanius followed, his robes brushing the ferrocrete, eyes glinting with ritual delight. He murmured some fragment of verse behind her. She ignored it. Faith was useful. Obsession was tolerated. For now.

Above them, the clouds churned. Operation: Cinder had already begun. Cities folded, atmospheres burned, databanks turned to cinders. There was no artifice to it, no illusion. Only clarity. The Empire did not demand loyalty. It enforced consequence.

She paused at the threshold. The entry doors remained closed, sealed beneath a thin shimmer of shielding. Velzari would make them wait. A ploy for control, or a test of resolve. She met it with stillness.


"Let them watch," she thought. "Let them wonder whether I wait, or weigh."

Her voice dropped to the commline, quiet, exact.

"Lord Mohc. Maintain the perimeter. Stand fast until I give word."

Then, to herself, barely spoken:

"Order does not knock."

And she waited.

 

[Velzari Tharn]

B L A C K - S U N - S Y N D I C A T E
H I D D E N - H A N D S​

Outside the nondescript building on Level 47-E, a haze of steam lazily drifted through the air, the result of a light rain sprinkling against metal surfaces warmed by Nar Shaddaa's improper management of thermal exhaust. It filled the air with the sticky scent of wet rust and grime. Where the Imperials might only see a backwater world neglected by its leadership and left to decay under the weight of greed, Velzari saw something far more promising.

Black Sun's takeover was quiet, but comprehensive. By the time it was all said and done, there was no question who governed Nar Shaddaa. It may not be broadcasted in the ruling council's chambers or signed on the letterhead, but everyone knew that the Underlord held the Smuggler's Moon in a vice grip.

The rise of the Dark Empire was nearly parallel to Black Sun's. Perhaps that was why the Grand Vizier sought the Prince of Crime on his home turf. Shannic Wulf must have appreciated the duality of their respective nations. Black Sun may be a narco state, but there are many facets that fit perfectly with the Empire; if it was the boulder, the syndicate was the sediment that filled in the gaps.

Prince Velzari was notified of their arrival. A gatekeeper droid emerged from a small panel near the entrance, examining Grand Vizier Wulf and her bodyguard with gruff interest. It spoke, mostly to itself, in Huttese as it ascertained the identities of the Underlord's guests. It did not take long, and evidently the droid was satisfied; only a moment after retracting into its receptacle, the sound of maglocks could be heard. They hissed as the door slid open and from within, a young Twi'lek woman flanked by a pair of Black Sun Guard emerged.

It was immediately clear that the days of Hutt Cartel scum were long gone. These armed Falleen were veritable soldiers.

"Grand Vizier Wulf," the woman said. Her accent suggested she hadn't lived far from Ryloth for very long. "We are pleased that you have come all the way to Nar Shaddaa. The esteemed Prince Velzari is just inside. Please, allow me to escort you to his chambers."

The corridor was narrow, but not so much that the woman's guards follow shoulder-to-shoulder behind the group. Dim lights flickered every so often, usually following the distant rumble of an industrial fan or the release of a pressure valve. Were Velzari more familiar with the Imperial leadership, he'd have invited them to his palace high above this destitute level. Perhaps next time, once he knew what to expect of the Grand Vizier and the Empire.

When they neared the double-doors that stood at the end of the hall, the Twi'lek stood to the side with her back against the wall. "Whenever you are ready," she said, and with a small nod, she left the Imperials.

Inside awaited Prince Velzari Tharn, Underlord of the Black Sun syndicate. He sat behind a large wroshyr wood desk with his fingers steepled, patient but sharp. His dark eyes were fixed on the door, knowing that his company would soon step through them.

Tags: Janus Vipsanius | Shannic Wulf | Sora Mohc
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[Shannic Wulf]

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Velzari Tharn | Janus Vipsanius | Sora Mohc

As Shannic Wulf moved through the corridor, her pace was measured, unhurried. The air was close, thick with the scent of metal and moisture, but she paid it no mind. The guards were worth noting; each silent, each alert, each well-drilled. Whatever else Velzari was, he knew how to command loyalty that resembled discipline.

The Twi’lek escort spoke with care, her tone shaped by someone still growing into the gravity of her station. Shannic caught the trace of uncertainty in her use of titles, the formality worn like a borrowed coat. Still, she followed protocol, and that mattered more than tone.

The passage was functional, industrial, and old. No attempt had been made to disguise that. Shannic observed the lack of ornament not as a slight, but as a choice. If this was meant to impress, it did so not through wealth, but through control.

At the door, she paused. Not out of hesitation, but to mark the transition. One world ended behind her, another waited ahead. She did not knock. She stepped through.

She entered, eyes steady and locked on the Prince. He was seated, poised. The impression struck her at once; she was walking into the nest of some coiled arachnid.

“Esteemed Prince. I thank you for hosting our delegation at such a time. Galactic Emperor Solipsis extends his hand of friendship to you. We are keen to foster new relationships with the preeminent organisations in the galactic arena.”

She dipped into a small curtsy, showing deference. She may have stood as head of the Imperial Government, the singular deputy to the Emperor himself, but she was not above offering respect, whether earned or not.

 

[Velzari Tharn]

B L A C K - S U N - S Y N D I C A T E
H I D D E N - H A N D S​

"The pleasure is mine," Velzari purred. Though he was Falleen, his accent resembled High Imperial more than his own native speech. He returned Shannic's bow with one of his own before gesturing for her to sit in the chair opposite him.

His office was far more comfortable than the rest of the structure, that much was obvious. Despite his predatory aura, Velzari's choice of décor was quite hospitable. The chairs were upholstered in expensive fabric, cushioned with exotic down; his desk was carved from wroshyr wood, undoubtedly a trophy from Black Sun's recent power play on Kashyyyk; even the light fixtures were elegant, glowing a soft amber hue within golden glass bulbs. Whether all this was done for Velzari's own pleasure or to impress his Imperial guests was uncertain. All one could say for sure was that the Underlord valued a fair balance of comfort and practicality.

"I must say, I am quite pleased with the results of our mutual interest in the Wookiee homeworld. Kashyyyk has already begun to turn a profit with the Shadowlands tribe at the head of the ruling council. I trust the slaves you received had been an adequate addition to the Imperial workforce?" Velzari hated small talk, so this was a matter of interest to him. If Black Sun were to rise as the galaxy's foremost trader of slaves and sentient beasts of burden, they would have to peddle the best stock.

If the Grand Vizier was pleased with their initial shipment of specimens, Velzari would smile and remind her that there are plenty more where they came from. With additional breeds available as well. Soon, the Ubrikkian Slave Route would be fully charted, connecting Black Sun's slaving market as far as the Sith Blackwall - the largest the Outer Rim has seen in centuries.

Tags: Janus Vipsanius | Shannic Wulf | Sora Mohc
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[Shannic Wulf]

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Velzari Tharn | Janus Vipsanius | Sora Mohc

Shannic inclined her head, voice composed and precise.

"I have found the Wookiees remarkably responsive to structure. The labour units transferred to Balmorra have already outperformed projections. When their strength is guided rather than wasted, the returns speak for themselves. As for the Shadowlands tribe, placing them at the head of the council was a suitable arrangement. They have been given the appearance of authority, which suits their pride, while the true mechanisms remain firmly in our hands."

She adjusted a datapad on the table, almost idly.

"Of course, vigilance remains essential. Their customs persist, and the forests remember what the Empire does not yet record. If their loyalties drift, we will correct the course quietly, and with the necessary firmness. There is no need for disruption when clarity will suffice."

Her eyes met the prince's with quiet steadiness.

"But with this latest assignment secure, it is time we moved forward. Preparations are in place in the Core, and there are ongoing interests on Kuat that require subtle encouragement. A transfer of one million credits, clean and without delay, will initiate the proper channels. I am certain you understand the value of being seen as the one who moved first."

She allowed a moment's pause, then added with calm finality, "We are well positioned. I suggest, your Highness, we remain that way."