Impenitence

[Tanomas Graf]

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Oh, how the mighty had fallen indeed.

For the third time in the past decade, he had to give up everything and flee while the power that he had constructed around him toppled to the ground. During the first two incidents, he had been left a bitter old man with an insurmountable grudge, but this time was different. He was beyond human, a dealer in thunder and death, and this time he was prepared for the inevitable. Every ranking Imperial that served in his Empire, every contact that he had made in those three years, he called upon to join him once more in a dark crusade against the scum that had inhabited the galaxy. Lannis Morcus, Gromm Cardan, Butch Mahan, Reginald Kardal, Jastor Husk, Travis Caalgen, Desmond C'artyom, and many, many more.

This time there would be no mistakes, no power-hungry moffs, and no traitorous knights. He had refined his political methods in his pseudo-retirement, his ideological philosophies only bolstered by his restored mental faculties. He had the charisma, he had the wisdom, and now he had the strength to ensure that this time around the Empire would become powerful and remain powerful. Isolationism had failed them previously, so now it was their mission to forge an alliance with those they deemed acceptable to their goals, such as the Sith Empire and the Chiss Ascendancy.

He rallied them under his banner at Byss, a near-mythical world that he had learned of from corrupted data files, only accessible through artificial hyperlanes that were somehow still open to this day. All Imperial assets would meet there for the official reformation of the Galactic Empire, and then they would subjugate that world and make it their own. The foundries of war would be lit, the cloning vats reactivated, and the academies opened.

All in the name of the Empire.

Ad Imperii Gloria.

 

[Desmond C'artyom]

[SIZE=12pt]Desmond surveyed the area with great interest from within his TIE. It was time. The banners had been raised and the soldiers of her once great Empire called upon again. Desmond and Inferno were to secure the area for the Imperials who were sure soon to arrive. An ancient temple had been decided upon as the meeting location. The Chiss had command of both Inferno and the Storm Commandos. They quickly went about clearing the landing platforms and setting up defensive emplacements, though it was doubtful any would be needed. Desmond had long awaited this day. Long awaited the return of the mighty Empire, and now, now it was here. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt]They would re take control of this once great galaxy and finally there would be peace. Desmond and Inferno patrolled the skies in there TIE fighters. It was a lovely day with the sun's rays shining down upon the world. Desmond could sense the Emperor here, even after almost a millennia of his passing. It wracked his bones with a sense of purpose. He was happy for once. Reunited with his old squadron. It felt good to be in the seat of a TIE. Desmond smiled as the first of the Imperial ships began to descend to the temple below. There would be no fireworks, no grandiose music, nothing but the sound of peace and tranquility.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt]AT-AT's patrolled the fauna below while a whole garrison stood at attention. So many had rallied to the call. IT was truly a heart warming moment for Desmond. He was going to have a purpose again. A purpose for good. He was ready to combat the Empire's enemies wherever they might be. He was ready for this once great power to rise again. Make it's place known among the galaxy. First Byss, then the Core, then the galaxy. It would mean a reckoning for those who would dare oppose them. It would mean peace for those who needed it. Finally it would mean unity for those who had never experienced it. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt]Ad Imperii Gloria![/SIZE]

 

[IC-104]

[SIZE=12pt]Chief stared out over the Garrison standing at attention. Over a thousand Fett clones who had been waiting, hopping and praying for the return of this great regime. Without it they had no purpose. No reason for existing. Chierf had kept track of the masses and over time he realized, they had been gathering on Byss. Pleading to the Emperor and defending the last of his legacy. Now the time had come to not only defend it, but to once again spread it throughout the stars. The mass gathering of these clones had made Byss the idea place to rendezvous. Chief knew they were all still very loyal to the Empire and the man who led it. [member="Tanomas Graf"] would find no small amount of troopers waiting for him at the temple. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt]Already it had become a formidable fortress and bastion for true Imperials everywhere. It was an awe inspiring idea. A galaxy united, and Graf was the man to do it. Chief stalked away from the balcony over looking the waiting garrison and headed back into Tanomas's personal shuttle bay. The storm commando and his squad were tasked personally to protect the leader of the Imperial cause. IC-104 stared at his brothers as they went about menial task. Cleaning weapons, moving crates, and the like. None of them had ever met their leader before, but each and everyone of them would gladly die for him. They were proud to serve and as such happy to die in service of the greater cause.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt]This was their purpose, what they had been trained to do. They thought not of themselves, but only of the Empire. Such is was what they had been created for. They held nothing in higher regard then their service. It was an honor and pleasure. They received no greater joy then when killing in the name of the Empire. It was the same for every clone created under this regime. They had been flash trained and conditioned to believe not in one, but the many, and the many needed the Empire. So they did duty without question, they killed without question, they served without question. This was the might of the Empire, this was it's glory, and this would be their reckoning![/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt]Ad Imperii Gloria![/SIZE]

 

[Kier Grey]

Kyle Weir
Byss Surface, The Grand Temple
Nearby: [member="Tanomas Graf"], [member="IC-104"]

They had once stood as Comrades Kyle and Tanomas, within the First Imperial Conventional Warfare Division and the former mused upon this while escorting the older man along the smooth stone path. And yet, Kyle was not the soldier that Tanomas might have recalled no longer content to simply follow orders and be used as a weapon such a thing they now viewed as a gross exploitation of loyal soldiers. Especially when it was demanded of them that honour be forfeited in the name of 'The Greater Good' too often had such justification been used by the First Imperials to commit atrocities and violations of sentient rights that Kyle could no longer just ignore, it had broken their world-view and awakened a powerful albeit buried morality and idealism. Turing their helmet's pair of lenses towards Tanomas, Kyle spoke. "It appears you may not require my protection after all." Their outward musing rolls through the vocal distorter built into helmet, Hazel spheres sweep over the Commandos assembled with impressive disciplined precision outside the former temple.

The pair of former Death Troopers were more than two professionals, theirs had been a bond forged in the fires of combat with overwhelming odds stacked against them. A stiff breeze howled across the parade ground laid out before them, lined with ranks of white-armoured Stormtroopers and boltgun grey walkers a handful of Victory-Class Star Destroyers looming above in low-orbit the TIE fighters roaring loudly. Not even Kyle could help but feel a small hint of Imperial Pride. "You'll always have my gratitude for getting me out of that hell...." Only Tanomas would know what this 'hell' was in the form of a First Imperial Psychiatric hospital where he had found Kyle bound to a chair and limbs locked tightly into straight-jacket. Kyle had sworn their former teammate to secrecy and would likewise keep Tanomas' trust for the trials and torture they had endured together shoulder-to-shoulder. "I'm not sure I can be apart of this though, with the things I've done." Kyle's usual stoicism gave way to sadness, they had been traumatised and amongst the Death Troopers they had once been widely considered the strongest emotionally, unbending as Durasteel but they had indeed been broken. One did not find themselves detained for treatment in a Psychiatric Hospital without giving somebody cause to doubt their sanity hat yet now the deeds which led Kyle into those halls haunt every waking moment.

Kyle yet sought redemption and doubted they might find it as part of a ruthless regime. "All I've ever done is serve, but I feel....." They paused for a moment, the sight of Imperial Commandos and Stormtroopers weighs their heart down through chest, turning their eyes away. "Guilt, regret." Tanomas was one of the few people in the galaxy who Kyle would disclose this depth of feeling, discarding their usual stoicism and giving access to thoughts that perhaps outside of First Imperial Space truly only Tanomas Graf now possessed, for Kyle had sacrificed and left their entire life back on Dosuun.

 

[Taa Nul]

Location: Byss
Post: 1

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AzbkQzPy8h4​

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Out of all who had arrived to answer the call of Tanomas Graf, none had arrived so gloriously to Byss, once the secret seat of power of Emperor Palpatine himself, destroyed at a point after his rebirth and later reformed by unknown means. The current Emperor of the Pentastar Alignment, and a close ally of the Chiss Ascendancy, had arrived to Byss aboard his Conqueror-class Star Destroyer "Annihilator", at the head of his vast armada. When the old Galactic Empire had collapsed, Morcus had managed to secure the loyalty of and escape with a significant portion of it's naval and military might, forming the remnant group known as the Empire Reborn. This remnant later merged with other elements to form a reformed Pentastar Alignment, located in Chiss space, where it'd acquired a close relationship and alliance with the growing Chiss Ascendancy after the Jen'ari Empire's collapse at the hands of the Sith.

Hundreds of Imperial vessels now waited in orbit above Byss, while their troop compliments had secured the surface below for such an important meeting. As the Emperor's Lambda-class Shuttle, escorted by a pair of crimson hulled Royal Guard TIE Interceptors, emerged from the hangar bay of the Annihilator and made it's way to the surface below, Morcus was deep in thought. It had seemed like an eternity since he'd last encountered his dear friend, and he was looking forward to reestablishing their former partnership, though he'd hoped his old friend would not judge him harshly for claiming the Imperial throne in the wake of his master, Emperor Kardal's sudden disappearance.

The shuttle made it's landing in the primary hangar of a large prefabricated Imperial base built to house the meeting. It was welcomed by a full regiment of the Imperial 501st in parade formation, Fett Clone Stormtroopers and the best of the best, who had served under their new Emperor's command faithfully and with distinction since the collapse of the Empire. As the boarding ramp of the Lambda-class descended, eight of the Emperor's Royal Guardsmen, clad in their combat armour and wielding their lightsaber pikes stepped down it, forming two separate lines of four, one at each side of the bottom of the ramp. They were followed by the Emperor himself, walking with an elegant cane concealing his lightsaber, and escorted by a pair of his elite Shadow Guardsmen. He'd be garbed in an Imperial Officer-style uniform, wearing a long grey cloak over it, clasped with the sigils of the Empire and House Morcus merged as one. As he emerged into view, the troops on parade raised their fists in an Imperial salute out of respect. Morcus took the time to politely greet and speak with their commanding officers, before making his way, tailed by his retinue of guardsmen, to the other hangar bay to await Graf's arrival.

[member="Tanomas Graf"]
[member="Desmond C'artyom"]
[member="IC-104"]
[member="Artarion Valentho"]

 

[Har'xa Escala]

It was curiousity that drew him to Byss.

Perhaps one would question if mere curiousity was enough for a Grand Margrave to leave his dominion and brave the journey through the maze of anomalies that riddled the Deep Core.

But one did not serve for as long as he did only to ignore his instincts. Even on the soil of his beloved homeworld, he had felt the subtle change rippling across the space that the First Order claimed for their own. Out of respect, Har’xa has maintained his silence and observed as changes were wrought. As the passage of time continue its advance, what were once concerns slowly grew and morphed into discontent. And while it was still tolerable, it also meant that the retired Fleet Admiral was more amenable to accepting an invitation from an old acquaintance despite the risks it entailed.

Though it has been a long time since he donned the colours of the Empire, his uniform still fitted his form like he had last worn it yesterday. Standing in a discreet area away from most of his colleagues, the Epicanthix watched the pomp and procession with a half-lidded gaze as they all awaited the arrival of the Imperator.

 

[DT-4747]

Death Trooper​

DT-4747 "Glacier"​

Byss​

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A statue. A formidable statue, a statue of war. A statue to the testament of the glory of the imperial way of life, the testament and atoning example to the inextinguishable flame which wrought the reins of the imperial war machine. That was what he was, that was what the Deathtrooper was, a statue of imperial might and authority. DT-4747 knew what he was, he knew who he was, he knew what his purpose was. What was he? He was a machine of war for the Empire. Who was he? He was DT-4747, imperial Death Trooper of the renewed Galactic Empire. What was his purpose? His purpose was to fight for the Empire and make any opposition suffer the most necessary and brutal of deaths if necessary. The Deathtrooper did it for the Empire like he did all things for the Empire. If the glory of the imperial way of life was to prosper, opposition had to be killed. It wasn't a fancy fabricated political opinion made up by politicians. It wasn't a preconceived lie to make the citizens of the reclaimed Empire feel contempt with the deaths of thousands, upon thousands, upon millions. It was a fact, it was an absolute truth. A truth that DT-4747 followed like gospel.

DT-4747..."Glacier" as called by fellow deathtroopers, stood off to the side in a uniform fashion with his fellow deathtroopers. They were awaiting the arrival of someone. It wasn't some god-forsaken no-name bastard that nobody cared for. It wasn't that of a faceless politician whose heads were full of lies. Politicians were untrustworthy and deceitful, one could never know if they were lying or telling the truth. A matter from which the deathtrooper heavily disliked and even hated some political figures. It wasn't a religious priest, men who DT-4747 actually had respect for. What the deathtroopers were awaiting, was the arrival of one Tanomas Graf, previous emperor of the Galactic Empire. And now, there had been a call to action a call to mobilize. A call to war. All that was needed was the faithful and speedy return of their most esteemed Emperor to tell of them his wishes and his commands. Glacier didn't wait for the return of Tanomas Graf. He didn't jump up and down in eager anticipation of the return of Tanomas Graf. He wasn't a child. He could control his emotions. DT-4747 stood as a statue to the testament of imperial glory, standing guard for the eventual and most anticipated arrival of one Tanomas Graf.

 

[Arahael]

It seemed an eon since he had first stepped into the rain of Kamino, swearing his allegiance to the Empire. But now it was to be more than just an Empire, squabbling among the outer rim. Max was pleased to hear of the diplomatic ambitions that were to become integral to this newly formed Empire. Still, it was a bitter sweet choice to make anew from the crumbling First Order. It had become a home to him, then a banished land just as easily.

Max leaned on the bridge railing, chuckling at the sight of the planet ahead. Happy memories flooded him, reminding him of the lasting relations he had made. The people all came across his mind, making him wonder how they fared. Did they achieve their hopes and dreams? Settle down far away? Or were they destroyed, only to be forgotten to time?

He turned to an officer at his station with a warm smile "Inform them of our arrival, if you would."

As the officer dutifully relayed his order, Max sat down in the command chair with a heavy breath of relief. The true journey, however, he knew was only about to begin. Glancing down at his terminal he transferred an abundance of files to a datastick. Many had not been seen since they had all last been gathered.

Standing up, Max moved briskly to the turbolift "Take us in, and inform the shuttle pilot that I am on my way."

 

[Cynthia Alucard]

Feel like putting on an old suit. Though rather accurate to say it was a completely new uniform, for the Colonel at least had never attained such a rank in her previous duty to the Empire. Her steps echoed down the hall, the surface hanger on Byss was a marvel of engineering and a nice home for her TIE's and Pilots. The reunification of her old squadron would have brought a smile to their long dead Squadron Captained, the man perished during the fall of the Empire and Cyn hoped that at least today the man's ghost would smile to see his Pixies wear the Imperial Insignia once again.

Her hands gently smoothed out the crease on her half cape that slung over her right shoulder, a rather ceremonial uniform, but Cyn hoped that perhaps such display would show her ready for retirement and sent to the Academy to remain as an Instructor. Such a wonderful place to train the next batch of Aces. Truthfully the growing steady of chaos and wars had crept the idea of her own mortality, that even inside a Star Destroyer, death could be gift bestowed to anyone.

Cyn approached the gathering and such dark thoughts were quickly shaken from her mind and instead her smile turned smirk. The rest of her Pixies remained at attention further away and for a moment Cyn wondered on the rest of her pilots under her wing. One they're given a mission it'll be sorted out. She figured with their blood lust that as long as they were given a TIE and orders to engage they worried not for the flag they fought under. Of course the pay helps as well.

Gloved hands lined her cap once again, and Cyn stood ready to witness the rise of the Empire once again. Ave, Ad Imperii Gloria.

 

[Tanomas Graf]

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Tanomas smiled weakly when his comrade divulged his feelings, his hand twitching as if he thought of clasping the younger man's shoulder but thought better of it at the last second.

"In my past...I have done things I am not proud of today," Graf lamented, staring down at his gloved hands as he collected his thoughts, "I have destroyed cities and sent millions to their doom, I have caused war and famine in my time, but against the enemies of the Empire, my Empire." He paused when he felt the shuttlecraft touched down before the grand temple itself, dark brown eyes meeting the visor of the man in front of him.

"The Empire will have need of people like you, it always will," He moved to stand near the landing ramp, straightening his signature onyx trench coat, something he had to retrieve before he made an appearance on Byss, "but you are your own man, and I cannot make that decision for you."

The ramp descended with the hiss of hydraulics, Graf's heavy footfalls clanging against the metal as he appeared for all his supporters to see, the excited murmur once present before now replaced with silent respect, each and every clone and man present snapping to attention when they spotted their imperator. Graf was physically younger this time around, and he definitely looked it, but there was still an air of authority and gravitas that he commanded with his mere presence alone, something that other leaders, even those with the power of the Force at their side, struggled with.

His gaze trailed over the assembled masses until it locked onto one of his greatest allies, Morcus, a twinge of disapproval, unfortunately, rearing its ugly head as he realized the older gentleman had claimed the throne for himself. He wasn't angry, they were embroiled in a civil war after all, but he couldn't help but tell himself that the ambitions of his new council needed to be reigned in to ensure stability.

"Morcus, my mystical friend, you haven't aged a day. The Unknown Regions treating you well, I presume?"

[member="Desmond C'artyom"] | [member="Artarion Valentho"] | [member="Lannis Morcus"] | [member="Har'xa Escala"] | [member="DT-4747"] | [member="Max Fel"] | [member="Cynthia Alucard"] | [member="Lucan Sirrad"]​

 

[IC-104]

Chief and squad stood at attention whilst Tanomas's shuttle touched ground. With a great billow of steam the hydraulic pistons released their pressure and the shuttle ramp descended with a snap hiss. Tanomas emerged from the billowing clouds accompanied by another. Chief was unsure what exactly he should do. Here he was faced with the leader of The Empire and yet, he could say nothing, do nothing, but watch in amazement as [member="Tanomas Graf"] , Destroyer of Hapes, Conqueror of Dagobah, and Defender of Kamino marched past the troopers. They saluted him smartly, but were careful to keep an ever vigilant eye. Should anything happen to this man, it would mean not only their heads, but quite possibly the death of the Empire in it's infancy.

Something that simply wasn't in Chief's programming. So, as Tanomas meandered through the temple surveying the gathered troops, IC-104 and squad stood by his side. They were careful not to get in his way, careful to not to be noticed, but always prepared to leap into action at a moments notice. They were the best of the best Storm Commando's and with the platoon of elite trained Death troopers backing them up, nothing would kill this man. At least not while one of them still lived. Tanomas looked different then he did from the old holos Chief had seen of him. During his training on Kamino there were many a time they were sat down to watch the glorious leader's speeches. Always they were awe inspiring and proud.

But, this Graf seemed different. Not only did he look younger, stronger, better, but he also even seemed to act it. As though a burden had been lifted from his shoulders and the gift of clarity provided. He seemed the type of leader who would lead through example rather than sit behind a desk. Chief was struck by an image of Graf leading the Storm Commando's personally. Blaster pistol in one hand, banner in the other, together they climbed over a mountain of the Empire's enemies and when they reached the top, Graf planted the banner and all below bowed to the new regime. Chief shook his head as his brother Arson looked to him. They wore helmets, but Chief knew Arson held a look of worry beneath the armored helmet.

"You okay, sir?" He asked through encrypted comms channel

"Yeah, I think I saw our future boys,"

"How's it look," Rev spoke up this time

"It looks like an Empire of corpses..."

[member="Cynthia Alucard"] I [member="Max Fel"] I [member="DT-4747"] I [member="Har'xa Escala"] I [member="Lannis Morcus"] I [member="Artarion Valentho"]

 

[Desmond C'artyom]

Desmond flew low with Inferno as Graf's Shuttle zoomed in. It's current escort peeled off and Inferno took up flanking positions around the shuttle. TIE's and Lambda landed in the hangar and Desmond carefully began to dismount his ship. He and Inferno made up the right hand of Graf. Together this squadron of intelligence agents and fighter pilots kept all who would oppose Graf, internally and externally, in check. They were often tasked with answering Moff's whose presumptions had overstepped their boundaries. Should Desmond come it meant only one thing usually, the Grand Moff was displeased. Very rarely did any survive such displeasure. Desmond would usually find himself hunting rebels the inept planetary governors were too foolish to find themselves, or putting down rogue Moffs who thought mayhaps they might have enough political sway to seize the Grand Moff's position.

Whatever the case it usually meant someone else was in line for a promotion... Desmond and Inferno were Graf's loyal hounds, bitter Imperials who had been with him since his days all the way back to the Galactic Alliance. Since his time before he even formed the first Empire. When he was still lording over the Avenger among the ranks of the First Order. Desmond had helped Graf think of the capitol ship killer weapon which now every Empire copies. It was Desmond and Graf who had stood against a galaxy and held the Empire on their own. At least, that's how Desmond saw it. He trusted no one, cared for, no one. He was as heartless as he was conniving. No one knew why this Chiss served Graf with such obedience. Only that he did.

Desmond had performed countless undercover terrorist acts by the order of Graf. Desmond had commanded fleets and annihilated the Empire's enemies with ruthless efficiency. He had commanded battalions and over saw the massacre of hundreds. It was not truly clear what title Desmond held within the Empire, only that he answered to none but Graf himself. He had earned the title Baron, warlord and a cadre of medals, but none of it seemed to point at any solid rank. The only given was that Desmond was the leader of a squadron of Inferno agents... Desmond approached Graff with hands clasped behind the small of his back. The Storm Commando's guarding him moved diligently out of Desmond's way and Des smiled at Graf.

"Greetings old friend, and master," He said in his rich Imperial accent, lowly so that only Graf may hear it.

[member="Tanomas Graf"] I [member="Cynthia Alucard"] I [member="Max Fel"] I [member="DT-4747"] I [member="Har'xa Escala"] I [member="Lannis Morcus"] I [member="Artarion Valentho"]

 

[Taa Nul]

Location: Byss Surface
Post: 2

"Not as good, admittedly. as those chemical treatments have done for you, my old friend.", Morcus said with a soft chuckle, though he sensed Graf's slight disapproval. "My allies in both Commenor and the Chiss Ascendancy have been most helpful since the Empire's collapse. I've been keeping busy ensuring our forces remained supplied and battle-honed for the inevitable resurgence of the Empire, though, even I had doubts such would occur. After the civil war, Emperor Kardal disappeared without word or trace, leaving the remnants of the Empire without leadership, save my own. My efforts to attempt to locate him have proven utterly unfruitful. He covers his tracks incredibly well, and it seems he does not wish to be found. Why, I cannot say. I held back from claiming his throne for so long, but what remained of the Empire required a leader, a figurehead to rally behind, like they were used to before. I, however, did not factor in your sudden exile and return from the Supreme Leader's rabble. You've been sorely missed..."

Morcus and Graf were soon approached by a small group of Morcus's current Moff Council, most were loyalist Moffs who had remained loyal to the cause during the Civil War, while a few were brand new. There were even a few Chiss amongst their number. "I'd like to introduce you to what currently serves as the Moff Council amongst my standing forces. Most faces you'll recognise, save the new additions. They are ready to pledge themselves once more to your cause, as am I. They and I are at your full disposal."

[member="Tanomas Graf"]
[member="Desmond C'artyom"]
[member="IC-104"]
[member="Cynthia Alucard"]
[member="Max Fel"]
[member="DT-4747"]
[member="Har'xa Escala"]

 

[Kier Grey]

Kyle Weir
Byss Surface, The Grand Temple
Nearby: [member="Tanomas Graf"], [member="IC-104"], [member="Lannis Morcus"], [member="Desmond C'artyom"], [member="Max Fel"]

Kyle listening to Graf behind the metallic helmet covering their head in silence pulled an unseen soft scowl as Tanomas explained the depth of his own depraved violence in the past before realising that perhaps both of them had sins to atone in the eyes of the Galaxy although Kyle had resolved their redemption to be away from Imperial Culture and chains of command. It seemed that as they entered the Grand Temple after descending from their shuttle officers and soldiers who were completely unknown to Kyle surrounded the pair of men. Tanomas' comment about the Empire requiring individuals like them, Kyle felt endeared even flattered but this rapidly subsided as unpleasant thoughts about how the First Order had exploited Kyle's extraordinary abilities in an attempt to usher in Galactic Dominance all under the thin veneer of restoring the order to a Galaxy gone mad. "Thanks just hope I make the right decisions this time..."

Kyle's tone sounded almost sad, blaming themselves for a being used as a weapon for so long. Graf's words forced a moment of reflection upon Kyle that perhaps in time their former teammate might actually build up a worthwhile government. Centralisation was necessary for effective and honest public service and interplanetary governance in hindsight they could not overlook in hindsight the ruthlessness and mercilessness of the First Order. Coming to the core Kyle had finally realised all their wars had been insignificant and worth nothing, good government and order did already exist just not in the Outer Rim which they had quietly capitulated to the idea that wild space would forever remain just that 'wild'. Surrounded by Imperial Commandos and Death Troopers, Kyle's eyes study them for a moment behind the two gold-coloured tandem lenses set into helmet's face in eerie silence. Kyle's ears hear Desmond's greeting despite the man's obvious attempt to conceal it which struck Weir as somewhat suspicious.

Watching closely Tanomas greet a man of advanced age he deduced with accuracy that the two men had a history even before the words flowed just from the way Morcus' face lit up with an unconcealed warm smile, the same could not be said for Graf who initially sounded cold. "Loyalists to a cause that by admission were involved in genocide and wanton destruction? No doubt such dutiful officers must be very proud of themselves, I'm certain." Kyle's voice reaches forth from their annunciator and the vocal distorter contained within with characteristic hollow metallic din could not conceal the doubtless sarcasm with which the mysterious soldier uses to mock those officers Morcus presented and indirectly the Emperor-in-name himself, the lenses set within helmet glances around their Imperial Escort attempting to examine their reaction through the armour. Thrusting left index finger towards the old officer Kyle angrily snarls a stern warning. "Do not think of Sieger's warriors as undisciplined, they'll bury you and everybody here if you want to test them for yourself. You are not ready for that fight, do not let the vanity of your grand parade deceive you into believing you are even close to being the order's equal."

The characteristic gruff boldness Tanomas had no doubt observed in the past rears its' head, Kyle was nothing if not a brave soldier and unlike everybody else present intimately familiar with the capabilities of First Imperial soldiers, they had been one for years after all and Graf would no doubt be able to conclude quite readily that even though their former comrade claimed to put the First Order behind them they are no doubt insulted by Morcus' characterisation of Sieger's servants as "Rabble" receiving the innocuous comment as a sort of insult. In a way, the power driving Kyle's visible anger was their own self-loathing for actions committed in service to the First Imperial Realm directed outward.

 

[Har'xa Escala]

While his keen eyes continued to sweep through the area, pausing and alighting on a familiar form every once in awhile, Har’xa allowed his mind to meander. His thoughts went first and foremost to his dominion on Bunduki, where his clan and family members resided. He knew that they would follow his lead if he decided to shed the mantle of Grand Margrave and retake his position as Fleet Admiral, even if it meant leaving behind their home and abandoning their world.

His true worry, however, rested on his youngest.

Despite his disapproval, he had allowed Kou’ha to carve his own path. But perhaps, he has indulged his son for far too long. For while he remained proud of him for his achievements, Har’xa felt that his son has been given far too much responsibilities given his inexperience and was thrown into a battle he was not prepared for. Despite his stoic silence, he noticed the stark difference in his scion when he had returned to Bunduki for a visit. Even with him standing here on the soil of Byss, his wife and his remaining sons were probably trying to talk sense into his youngest. No longer will Clan Escala allow one of theirs to be so neglected.

The hushed whispers that has been drifting even to the inconspicuous corner he was secreted in fell into revered silence. Taking his cue, the Epicanthix stepped out into the area, a mere face in the sea of people. Standing taller than most people, it made it even easier for his dark eyes to alight on the charismatic figure that stood before them. He inclined his head out of curiousity, as it did not escape his notice that the man he once served looked much younger and filled with vitality. It was clear that something has happened, but whether the Imperator would be willing to satisfy their unvoiced queries… Now, that was another matter.

Har’xa remained a distance away, but still close enough to listen to the condensed report that was being delivered by Morcus, mentally taking notes and filling in the gaps in his own understanding. He merely contented himself by greeting the Imperator with a nod and the faintest twitch of a smile, deciding to withhold his own well-wishes until the furor has subsided.

[member="Tanomas Graf"] | [member="Desmond C'artyom"] | [member="IC-104"] | [member="Kyle Whir"] | [member="Lannis Morcus"] | [member="DT-4747"] | [member="Max Fel"] | [member="Cynthia Alucard"]
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[DT-4747]

Death Trooper
DT-4747 "Glacier"
Byss

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Tanomas[SIZE=11pt] Graf had arrived. It had been a slow, drawn-out arrival for the arrival of the last Emperor of the Galactic Empire, and yet, no thought of others distaste or annoyance at such a notion, at such a [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]miniscule[/SIZE] thing, was given to the delayed coming of the Imperator. The Imperator, the Emperor, Tanomas Graf had arrived precisely when he had meant to do so. Even if such an arrival had been “of late” as spoken by politicians and the skepticism of former Galactic Empire loyalists, there was no denial as to the gravitas that the man brought with him when he entered into a room. That was what DT-4747 firmly believed. Nothing happened without reason. There were no consequences, there we're no matter-of-chance encounters. There was no “...it's just luck…”, no, there was not. Not whatsoever. The Deathtrooper knew there was a reason for everything to happen, there was some lesson about it, or some biblical teaching, or some symbolism in every action.

DT-4747 had learned of such things through his experiences as a man of religion. He was, after all, a man of religion, as he always would remain to be till his day that his spirit would be taken up. A religious cross of metal hung from the male's right shoulder, closely kept to his body. Scratches and marks of all sort dotted the metal cross, and yet, its metal was shiny, clean, polished. Like his devotions to a God far above. A God who knew of the “divine destinies” of all the men, all the women, and all of the children of not just the noble Galactic Empire, but the Galaxy as well. [SIZE=11pt]Tanomas[/SIZE] Graf wasn't a saint, none of them were. Glacier respected the man, though he knew he had faults...as did all of them under the faithful gaze of God from the pearl heavens above...

When Imperator Tanomas Graf had come onto and entered into the place of gathering, the indistinct chatter ended. All sound ceased in a held breath. The only sounds that were present were those sounds of the movement of the contingent of Deathtroopers in salute to him. As he passed each Deathtrooper, one to his right, one to his left, a half a second interval, the pair would fall in line behind [SIZE=11pt]Tanomas[/SIZE] with weapons drawn...a security detail. DT-4747 had attended such events beforehand, and he knew the rundown. He knew all of the simulations and all of the scenarios about what could and what will happen. It wasn't through the use of some abstract force that he was able to predict the silence of the gathered crowd of the Imperator, it wasn't through the use of the force that the Deathtrooper was able to predict that the gathered crowd would...gather around the arrived Imperator. He had seen it all before. Perfect opportunity for assassination as well, of course. Which is why Glacier kept his guard up as the other eleven Deathtroopers, excluding himself, flanked the Imperator. A personal cohort of supersoldiers if you will.

Dt-4747 took the front guard to Tanomas Graf. As he did so, he noticed a peculiar change to the once Emperor. He was -- younger, much younger, brown hair, few wrinkles, and creases, muscular form. It didn't take a genius to figure out that Graf had changed somehow, whether it be from medical processes or some experimental program, he was younger and stronger. He looked it, the way he carried himself. He didn't look like an old man, he walked confidently now, not feebly as though his bones creaked.

[member="Har'[/FONT][FONT='courier new']xa[/FONT][FONT='courier new'] Escala"] | [member="Kyle Whir"] | [member="Lannis [/FONT][FONT='courier new']Morcus"] | [member="Desmond C'artyom"] | [member="IC-104"] | [member="Tanomas Graf"] | [member="Cynthia Alucard"] | [member="Cynthia Alucard"]​

 

[Arahael]

Max proceeded up the waiting shuttle's ramp with a hurried clanking, moving towards the cockpit "When you're ready. They will probably be congregated in a small area."

With a nod, the pilot departed and began a steady descent to the surface. Through the viewports, countless ships filled the space around Max, a sight he seldom saw except for the largest of battles. Whoever had turned up, they were certainly either fanatically in favor, or in opposition to the ambitions of this meeting.

He broke the mesmerizing stare and turned back to the pilot "Have you received any further important information?"

"No, my Lord. The coordinates were the only vital transmission."

Green continents became more defined, giving way to sprawling cities, then giving way to a rapidly approaching collection of soaring buildings. Soon enough, the unmistakable sight of a gathering of some importance was viewable.

A soft touchdown later, Max departed the Sith shuttle, though at a more leisurely pace than back on the ship. He wished to get as long a glimpse as possible as he approached the group. No doubt there would be old allies, but potentially also old enemies.

"Any room for an old friend?"

[member="Tanomas Graf"] | [member="Desmond C'artyom"] | [member="IC-104"] | [member="Kyle Whir"] | [member="Lannis Morcus"] | [member="Har'xa Escala"] | [member="DT-4747"] | [member="Cynthia Alucard"] |

 

[Tanomas Graf]

Apparently, his own loyalists were not above attempting to seize power for themselves, so many carefully crafted mechanisms of both centralization and decentralization erased from practice in what appeared to be a matter of days. Emperor Kardal, despite his reportedly 'grand' power, fled from his responsibility as the de jure leader of the former Empire; Most of the high moffs that he had appointed for specific reasons were missing or dead, the 'Moff council' standing before him a collection of backwater-world governors. Graf supposed this was what he deserved for putting military officers in a politician's job and politicians in a military officer's job.

At his wits end by the gravity of the situation, he was further put off by his newest comrade's outburst. Graf placed a hand on the man's shoulder and leaned forward, his mouth hovering near the other's ear, "I would suggest you calm yourself, Whir, as now is most certainly not the time to play the ideological variant of 'who has the pointier stick'." The older man whispered harshly, any tone of familiarity present before now replaced with cold authority. "Enough petty squabbles and power projection, we are all going to have a wonderful discussion about individual ambition and the Civil War before I declare this Empire restored." He growled, glaring at the offenders in question, "Back in the day we'd slit you up the middle like a Caridan pasty and hang your steaming entrails all across the planet of Coruscant."

He would greet the others soon enough, but for now, he set off in the direction of the temple, not bothering to wait for his colleagues, now demoted to lackeys in his mind, to trail behind. Tanomas Graf had a government to fix, and Maker help him he would do it right this time.

[member="Kyle Whir"] | [member="Lannis Morcus"] | [member="Max Fel"] | [member="DT-4747"] | [member="Har'xa Escala"] | [member="IC-104"] | [member="Desmond C'artyom"] | [member="Cynthia Alucard"]​

 

[Zesiro]

It had taken Zesiro some amount of time to make a decision on returning to the Empire when the call came to her. Her time in their arms had been the best of her life, but then her life had changed and she moved away. A chance reunion on Tatooine had brought her back to them for a short period of time, but she had been taken captive of the Confederacy then.

They had allowed her time to recover from her injuries and then released her. She had returned to the home she had made on Kesh and she was there when this call had come. Not entirely sure she wanted to give up the life she had there, in the end, she decided to return to the Empire.

Now, she came in on her small personal ship and was surrounded by an escort as soon as she came out of hyperspace. She had been invited here and they guided her to the ship she needed to be on.

Exiting her ship, a changed woman emerged and moved to join with the others present. Familiar faces and new ones greeted her, but she did not do or say anything to interrupt the conversation that was going on. Giving proper respect, bows or nods needed to certain people, Zesiro was here to support the family she once had here. She just hoped her spot remained for her.

[member="Tanomas Graf"] [member="Max Fel"] @DT-4747 @Har'xa Escala [member="Kyle Whir"] [member="Lannis Morcus"] [member="Desmond C'artyom"] @IC-104 @Cynthia Alucard

 

[Desmond C'artyom]

Desmond could sense Tanomas's displeasure. It was a palpable sign that his work as Tanomas's enforcer was soon to begin again. He relished in the idea of toppling those who assumed themselves to be so high and mighty that they thought they were untouchable. But, truth was Graf had a right to be angry. Between Whir's praise of the enemy and Morcus's obvious power grab it was a wonder he did not have half of them executed on the spot. Of course Morcus could be forgiven and Whir's words left unabated, but this would only further weaken the Imperator in the eyes of the more manipulative. But, that was why Desmond was here. To ensure that when Graf was merciful it would not be taken as weakness and that when he was harsh, it would be understood why he was so. In truth Desmond had not a care for those gathered before the Imperator. They were but tools to be used. Cast aside once they had outlived their potential...

So, Desmond would idly bide his time. Waiting for the order to vanquish, praise, or subjugate Graf's followers to whatever he deemed necessary. Right now though... Right now it seemed the lot of them would be cast aside. Desmond had heard of the bickering among warlords in the wake of Tanomas's leaving. How the Empire had fallen into a state of subterfuge and the Moffs had begun to fight among themselves for an empty throne. Desmond Could scarcely believe it when he found the rumors were true. But, he had been and always would be an agent of Graf's Empire. So, when the reformation was sounded sleeper agents were activated and Desmond was once more called to duty. His flash training would not let him do anything else. He had gone into hiding when Graf had left, but now. Now, he was back. Which meant Desmond was called upon to serve once again.

He and his team of clones had been scattered among the stars, each one of them assuming a different identity, but ironically all of them keeping the moniker of Desmond C'artyom, in thought if not in public. They all shared the same memories, training, and even love. He was one of five. Always five Desmonds. Each with admitably their own small quirks, but in the end flash trained to believe and uphold the same ideas and values. So, it was in this sense that should even one Desmond defect or die, their would always be another. Not that any of them ever would, their programming simply left no room for it. Desmond thought nothing of his past life as a street urchin, through the Empire he had obtained a sense of duty, honor, and thus he felt no need to think on such things. This was it for him. This was as far up the galactic chain as he got, and it was pretty damn far...

Desmond followed Tanomas up the stairs to the temple with the gaggle of guards and retinue. But, he was lost in thought. Already he had compiled a detailed list of those likely to betray Graf. Some would attempt to do so covertly, others overtly. Chief among them was this Kyle Whir character. His loyalties to the Empire were of course not questioned aloud by Desmond, but it was entirely possible for the First Order to have flashed a set of orders in his mind. Made him a sleeper agent or some such. But, Desmond would voice his worries to the Imperator later, in private. Then their was Morcus. It seemed the old man was to eager for Graf's return, to eager to relinquish his power. But, perhaps Morcus knew that not even he could lead the Empire to such extents as Graf... Then again perhaps he had something else in the works. Either way Desmond was going to make sure to voice his opinions on the matter, for all to hear...