The Parliament
Wearing: Cultist Catsuit (White)
Armed With: Cultist Lightsaber
Taking Place aboard: Colossus of Shadows
The giant stealth city in space was abuzz with activity as it prepared to receive delegates. The Parliament herself had been sending out feelers, and today those feelers were paying off.
The Empire of the Lost was interested in talking. House Io was interested in talking back.
House Io had spent years building their numbers back up after Tython. They were finally back to what they were before that battle.
The Parliament knew the time to come out was now. War was coming back on all fronts. The Cult would have much to harvest from her enemies, provided this went according to plan.
After all, House Io was a proven Force Multiplier for anyone they allied with. Just ask the Eternal Empire.
The Parliament walked through the "streets" of her gigantic city ship, based off a Mega Class SSD frame. The frame itself had been discovered at a lost First Order shipyard, seized by her House. It had proven a most excellent basis for team building. Many of the people living here had a personal hand in it's construction, it's populace a mix of Citizen-Soldiers, Deadly Droids, and Sadistic Abominations in the form of Catsuit wearing Witches. The Citizens were terrified of the Witches, and partly the droids but they got along with the Droids at least, simply by the virtue of them being emotional, rather than logic driven, held by feelings of patriotism and love for the one who created them as much as a nearly uncrackable loyalty compulsion that could only be voluntarily disabled by her.
The Parliament had decided to ease the burden of her children. Each Nuetralizer "born" had a minimum service of seven years before being offered their freedom. If they refused it, their minimum service was reset by another seven years. It seemed fair.
With the Galaxy at war, no way House Io could sit on the side lines.
The organic refugees who had first become Citizens, who once looked at her in curiosity and awe, now stared at her in total fear. She would never harm a law abiding citizen, but they were no longer certain of that on their end. They were in too deep to back out.
It was as it should be.
She had agreed to a meeting mainly because she knew the Empire of The Lost would go up against and clash with the Jedi Order. Imperial types had to.
And when they did, the Jedi were gonna run into some ol' buddies just dying to make up for lost time.
She found the turbolift to the deck where her quarters were located. A solid quarter of that deck was essentially her entire "home" on the Colossus, in addition to the quarters, which were quite expansive. Insisting on honesty, her part of that deck was actually listed as Dangerous place where creepy/weird stuff occurs on this vessel in all the ship's directories. (It was second only to "Janitorial Services" in terms of danger, but third in comparison to the section listed as "Re-Gifting!")
She stopped as the ship A.I. ran an old Holographic recording of
The Amalgam
on a nearby projector.
"This is your handy dandy Amy, reminding you all of the following: Do not pass pens to a Brain Demon Cultist. Do not pass pencils to a Brain Demon Cultist. No scissors OR paperclips. If one of us offers you something, refuse it in a timely and polite manner."
(Cutaway of Hannibal Lecter in his cell doing that weird "FFFFFFFFfffffff" Sound)
The Parliament watched the image of the woman she had once been so obsessed with she couldn't even admit it to herself for a long time flicker out of existence before heading into the lift, which deposited her right in front of her quarters.
She entered the entirely white colored suite, found
The Battalion
wearing a stark white dress with a plunging neckline, wearing silvery stilettos and a necklace depicting a faceted bled Kyber glowing with Dark Side energy.
"Not that I'm objecting, Elaine...but you really think dressing to the nines is necessary?" The Parliament asked, striding up to the Battalion just as she finished arranging her hair in a delicate coif.
"Impressions are important. These people are definitely less insane than us by a kilometer. We don't want a set back like we had with Empyrean."
"Empyrean is a poser. He just wants the same fethin' crap his predecessors did. Or he wants to kill the Force probably for his ego. One of those two things. Or both of them. I was perfectly in my right to feth up his little party. He'll die like all the others before him have. I want renewable, sustainable darkness and cruelty against the Jedi Order."
"And you'll get it..." The Battalion assured, putting on ruby filled earrings. "But no murder puppetry tonight. Not like at the yacht."
The Parliament sighed. "I know, Elaine...but I really like murder puppetry."
"So do I, but there's a time and a place, and putting on a gorefest in front of likely nervous, stuffy imp types is not either." The Battalion reminded her. "We have to play nice. Like the old days."
"I'm so glad I have you to keep me grounded..." The Parliament replied slyly, pulling The Battalion close by the waist, to which the Witch gently brushed a hand against the Parliament's snow white face.
"What would I do without you?"
"Take out giant space stations above inhabited worlds and kill thousands of people?" The Battalion offered.
The Parliament rolled her eyes, which were colored a rotten sulfur yellow with no visible pupils.
"That was one time..."
Her thoughts were interrupted by the Battalion planting her lips on hers.
The Parliament returned the kiss, embracing her...and just off to the side was a pile of skinned corpses. Batty must have needed a quick fix of another's suffering to fight the anxiety.
The blood was everywhere in that section, and the pair pulled away just as the door chimed and the organic citizen Janitor, an older fellow named Rufus, walked in, using his pass, and moving a repulsor cart full of high grade cleaning supplies.
"Why Rufus! How prompt of you. The corpses are just over there. Take those down to the local temple, would you?" The Battalion asked the Janitor politely.
Rufus scowled, grumbled, and went to examine the horrifying sight, sniffing a bit at the copper scent.
"Agh, it's always, ALWAYS, arterial spray with you two all over the walls." Rufus grumbled, grabbing his spray bottle filled with bleach and spraying the polished Durasteel walls before rubbing it with a used, bloody rag.
"At least Arena has the good sense to kill people in the bathtub. Just gotta drain the blood at that point. Ten minutes tops. You? Gonna be at this crap the next forty minutes..."
"Oh! I'm so sorry but, you see that? Up there?" The Parliament interrupted, pointing Rufus to the ceiling.
Rufus looked up, saw a Jedi Master she had mutilated somehow smeared in chunky paste across the ceiling. Sticking.
"We kinda need that off. I'm sorry, it's my fault, I forgot about that." The Parliament apologized sincerely.
Rufus sighed. "Gonna need the de-greaser for that...The Conjoined pulled this chit last week..."
He scowled at them both. "I gotta get the ladder. I'd move anything delicate beneath, cause that crap is not coming down gently."
The Parliament teleported all relevant furniture out of the way, while the Battalion produced an Aurodium Coin, went over and slipped it in his pocket.
"You do good work Rufus, you're a real sport. Thanks." she assured, before leading her wife by the hand out of the suite.
Rufus coughed, scratched his butt, and immediately went to cleaning the arterial spray off the walls for about thirty seconds before the Battalion ran back in.
"Oh, Rufus, I almost forgot, the bedroom is a murder scene, but I don't want that cleaned, I'm gonna re-use that one, 'kay?"
"Yeah yeah, I heard you..." Rufus muttered.
The Battalion blew him a kiss. "You're a life saver!" she exclaimed happily before running back to rejoin her wife.
Rufus glanced up at the ceiling.
"More like Life Scraper..." he mumbled as he resumed cleaning.
One hour later.
The Hangar had been assembled for one purpose, to reflect the burgeoning "majesty" of her house and it's potential.
Rows of Model 3's painted golden with the triangle symbol of House Io on their foreheads awaited behind the diplomatic shuttle, acting as an honor guard.
Large rows of House Stormtroopers in their white armor, distinct from other stormtrooper armor designs waited behind the Matriarch. The Imperials would see at least one thing familiar, even if House Io was coming ultimately from a very different place politically. But House Io was ultimately a martial society. It valued order where it counted, especially if it meant controlling an actual territory.
As for The Matriarch herself, she awaited the shuttle in front of the Stormtroopers, hands clasped behind her back, her white catsuit eerily skintight, looking less like fabric and more like a body that had been painted white next to the ironically far more natural looking Battalion. Her Lightsaber dangled from a belt as the great ship de cloaked at the pre arranged meeting point just outside their territorial borders, awaiting whoever they would send.
The Parliament knew the next few hours would be delicate, so for a change, she decided to handle it personally...
The Voice of the Lost
Percival Io
Alessandra Io
Lady Venge
(Special invitation to explore the ship!)
Akemi Io
Armed With: Cultist Lightsaber
Taking Place aboard: Colossus of Shadows
The giant stealth city in space was abuzz with activity as it prepared to receive delegates. The Parliament herself had been sending out feelers, and today those feelers were paying off.
The Empire of the Lost was interested in talking. House Io was interested in talking back.
House Io had spent years building their numbers back up after Tython. They were finally back to what they were before that battle.
The Parliament knew the time to come out was now. War was coming back on all fronts. The Cult would have much to harvest from her enemies, provided this went according to plan.
After all, House Io was a proven Force Multiplier for anyone they allied with. Just ask the Eternal Empire.
The Parliament walked through the "streets" of her gigantic city ship, based off a Mega Class SSD frame. The frame itself had been discovered at a lost First Order shipyard, seized by her House. It had proven a most excellent basis for team building. Many of the people living here had a personal hand in it's construction, it's populace a mix of Citizen-Soldiers, Deadly Droids, and Sadistic Abominations in the form of Catsuit wearing Witches. The Citizens were terrified of the Witches, and partly the droids but they got along with the Droids at least, simply by the virtue of them being emotional, rather than logic driven, held by feelings of patriotism and love for the one who created them as much as a nearly uncrackable loyalty compulsion that could only be voluntarily disabled by her.
The Parliament had decided to ease the burden of her children. Each Nuetralizer "born" had a minimum service of seven years before being offered their freedom. If they refused it, their minimum service was reset by another seven years. It seemed fair.
With the Galaxy at war, no way House Io could sit on the side lines.
The organic refugees who had first become Citizens, who once looked at her in curiosity and awe, now stared at her in total fear. She would never harm a law abiding citizen, but they were no longer certain of that on their end. They were in too deep to back out.
It was as it should be.
She had agreed to a meeting mainly because she knew the Empire of The Lost would go up against and clash with the Jedi Order. Imperial types had to.
And when they did, the Jedi were gonna run into some ol' buddies just dying to make up for lost time.
She found the turbolift to the deck where her quarters were located. A solid quarter of that deck was essentially her entire "home" on the Colossus, in addition to the quarters, which were quite expansive. Insisting on honesty, her part of that deck was actually listed as Dangerous place where creepy/weird stuff occurs on this vessel in all the ship's directories. (It was second only to "Janitorial Services" in terms of danger, but third in comparison to the section listed as "Re-Gifting!")
She stopped as the ship A.I. ran an old Holographic recording of

"This is your handy dandy Amy, reminding you all of the following: Do not pass pens to a Brain Demon Cultist. Do not pass pencils to a Brain Demon Cultist. No scissors OR paperclips. If one of us offers you something, refuse it in a timely and polite manner."
(Cutaway of Hannibal Lecter in his cell doing that weird "FFFFFFFFfffffff" Sound)
The Parliament watched the image of the woman she had once been so obsessed with she couldn't even admit it to herself for a long time flicker out of existence before heading into the lift, which deposited her right in front of her quarters.
She entered the entirely white colored suite, found

"Not that I'm objecting, Elaine...but you really think dressing to the nines is necessary?" The Parliament asked, striding up to the Battalion just as she finished arranging her hair in a delicate coif.
"Impressions are important. These people are definitely less insane than us by a kilometer. We don't want a set back like we had with Empyrean."
"Empyrean is a poser. He just wants the same fethin' crap his predecessors did. Or he wants to kill the Force probably for his ego. One of those two things. Or both of them. I was perfectly in my right to feth up his little party. He'll die like all the others before him have. I want renewable, sustainable darkness and cruelty against the Jedi Order."
"And you'll get it..." The Battalion assured, putting on ruby filled earrings. "But no murder puppetry tonight. Not like at the yacht."
The Parliament sighed. "I know, Elaine...but I really like murder puppetry."
"So do I, but there's a time and a place, and putting on a gorefest in front of likely nervous, stuffy imp types is not either." The Battalion reminded her. "We have to play nice. Like the old days."
"I'm so glad I have you to keep me grounded..." The Parliament replied slyly, pulling The Battalion close by the waist, to which the Witch gently brushed a hand against the Parliament's snow white face.
"What would I do without you?"
"Take out giant space stations above inhabited worlds and kill thousands of people?" The Battalion offered.
The Parliament rolled her eyes, which were colored a rotten sulfur yellow with no visible pupils.
"That was one time..."
Her thoughts were interrupted by the Battalion planting her lips on hers.
The Parliament returned the kiss, embracing her...and just off to the side was a pile of skinned corpses. Batty must have needed a quick fix of another's suffering to fight the anxiety.
The blood was everywhere in that section, and the pair pulled away just as the door chimed and the organic citizen Janitor, an older fellow named Rufus, walked in, using his pass, and moving a repulsor cart full of high grade cleaning supplies.
"Why Rufus! How prompt of you. The corpses are just over there. Take those down to the local temple, would you?" The Battalion asked the Janitor politely.
Rufus scowled, grumbled, and went to examine the horrifying sight, sniffing a bit at the copper scent.
"Agh, it's always, ALWAYS, arterial spray with you two all over the walls." Rufus grumbled, grabbing his spray bottle filled with bleach and spraying the polished Durasteel walls before rubbing it with a used, bloody rag.
"At least Arena has the good sense to kill people in the bathtub. Just gotta drain the blood at that point. Ten minutes tops. You? Gonna be at this crap the next forty minutes..."
"Oh! I'm so sorry but, you see that? Up there?" The Parliament interrupted, pointing Rufus to the ceiling.
Rufus looked up, saw a Jedi Master she had mutilated somehow smeared in chunky paste across the ceiling. Sticking.
"We kinda need that off. I'm sorry, it's my fault, I forgot about that." The Parliament apologized sincerely.
Rufus sighed. "Gonna need the de-greaser for that...The Conjoined pulled this chit last week..."
He scowled at them both. "I gotta get the ladder. I'd move anything delicate beneath, cause that crap is not coming down gently."
The Parliament teleported all relevant furniture out of the way, while the Battalion produced an Aurodium Coin, went over and slipped it in his pocket.
"You do good work Rufus, you're a real sport. Thanks." she assured, before leading her wife by the hand out of the suite.
Rufus coughed, scratched his butt, and immediately went to cleaning the arterial spray off the walls for about thirty seconds before the Battalion ran back in.
"Oh, Rufus, I almost forgot, the bedroom is a murder scene, but I don't want that cleaned, I'm gonna re-use that one, 'kay?"
"Yeah yeah, I heard you..." Rufus muttered.
The Battalion blew him a kiss. "You're a life saver!" she exclaimed happily before running back to rejoin her wife.
Rufus glanced up at the ceiling.
"More like Life Scraper..." he mumbled as he resumed cleaning.
One hour later.
The Hangar had been assembled for one purpose, to reflect the burgeoning "majesty" of her house and it's potential.
Rows of Model 3's painted golden with the triangle symbol of House Io on their foreheads awaited behind the diplomatic shuttle, acting as an honor guard.
Large rows of House Stormtroopers in their white armor, distinct from other stormtrooper armor designs waited behind the Matriarch. The Imperials would see at least one thing familiar, even if House Io was coming ultimately from a very different place politically. But House Io was ultimately a martial society. It valued order where it counted, especially if it meant controlling an actual territory.
As for The Matriarch herself, she awaited the shuttle in front of the Stormtroopers, hands clasped behind her back, her white catsuit eerily skintight, looking less like fabric and more like a body that had been painted white next to the ironically far more natural looking Battalion. Her Lightsaber dangled from a belt as the great ship de cloaked at the pre arranged meeting point just outside their territorial borders, awaiting whoever they would send.
The Parliament knew the next few hours would be delicate, so for a change, she decided to handle it personally...





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