Faction Imperial Reclamation Authority | The Long Retreat Ends

[Jekkath Raxus]

◆ Objective ◆

Observe

◆ Location ◆

Lothal · Resolute

◆ Equipment ◆

Double-Bladed Spinning Lightsaber Inquisitorial Armor

The response he'd been formulating for the First Sister died before it materialized, wrenched away the second he felt the Sixth Sister's words brush through his mind. All at once it came like flipping a switch in the mind of the Second Brother, all at once activating his inner prey drive honed when Rattatak had once been his playground. The hunt was always made sweeter the greater defiance the prey showed, but inevitably it turned. It was the most satisfying portion when the prey realized they were about to die, when he could see the panic form in their faces, the urgency form in every hastened act they took to save their miserable lives. All before they fell to the harvest. If it weren't for the helmet crowning his form one might've seen the vile grin on his face as he looked to Zara. It was a cycle so deeply engrained into his nature: Hunt, Kill. Hunt, Kill. Hunt, Kill.

The thought of hunting the Sixth Sister sent an exciting chill flowing down his spine, it only grew the longer his head remained twisted in her direction. Every word of the assembly flowed through him, he drew in every speech carefully, but it was all carefully packed away. Another time he would've started the hunt right now, but the Hangman was far removed from the days when Rattatak was his hunting ground, and everything that moved was prey to be taken. But he'd been taken in by the Dark Side Elite, by Ibaris Varanin the woman was the only form of family he'd ever actually had, and she forged him into the weapon he stood as now, the entire reason he'd come to the Imperial Reclamation Authority was because of her. She taught him to control the beast, to rein it in and channel hunger with direction, a foundation of discipline rose like a cage to keep the monster from destroying itself. In her direction ambition formed, he wanted for more than the kill.

When the response came from Jekkath it came with all the speed of a glacier, and as cold as winter snow "Dearest sister, you best not miss, If you do? Then it'll be my turn." Jekkath let the implication of it hang between them as he hammered the telepathic message like a blade thrust into her skull. The Second Brother shifted his focus back towards the First Sister and the assembly in full then. The woman was right you had to respect what the General had been willing to accomplish so far. The ideological divide between Imperials had grown, and they stood in a room with many leaders who'd grown accustomed to leading on their own, many with different ideals and ideas on how they should proceed. Every turn saw the General challenged on his choices, on direction, and he was dispatching such concerns quite well, he was holding his own really. "Very well. He's come this far. Lothal will be his first test, we will see if he can rise to the occasion."

The Second Brothers gaze briefly passed over the Tenth Sister, she'd remained nearly motionless with the slightest turn of the helmet as the only signs of movement, he could feel her presence slowly passing through the room, touching on mind after mind with great care. After the words of the last Imperial finished and silence briefly claimed the room, the Second Brother took the opportunity to claim the silence. "Have any of you ever observed how a pack of Tuk'ata hunt? They are incredibly intelligent creatures, patient hunters. You can learn a lot by watching how a pack moves when it prepares to bring down larger prey, every pack member has a job to do, a ceaseless machine of moving parts that doesn't relent until they have what they are looking for. Lothal will first be a test of this Imperial experiment of ours. If we move as scattered parts to pacify the local resistance and seize the world, our chances drop." The Second Brother closed a fist tightly then: "If we move as one singular fist of imperial order. One message, one direction. Our chances improve." Jekkath finished. The Inquisitor's focus returned to the crowds scanning each face, each reaction, cataloguing everything carefully.

✶ Transmission Directed To ✶

Alexandra Delaine | Zara Saga | Cerein Aron | Evander Thule | Abaddon Thol | Aldric Vael | Augustus Tassar | Aki Nagaoka

Order · Compliance · Reclamation

 

[Alexandra Delaine]

"To restore what was forgotten." | Tags - Arturion of Kalidan | Zara Saga | Cerria Desyk | Cassius Dorne | Tenth Sister | Jekkath Raxus

The tension in the Force weighed heavily upon the meeting. It was perfectly clear that the Second Brother and Sixth Sister would have issues regarding future cooperation—nothing, however, that the First Sister believed she could not handle.

The Ninth Brother remained calm and collected, much to Alexandra's pleasant surprise. It was almost amusing that someone from outside their Order was behaving more in line with her expectations than some within it. Though, to be fair, the Second Brother was merely attempting to enforce order.

The conversation continued amongst those gathered, though the finer details were largely trite to Alexandra. If the Order was tasked with seizing Lothal, then they would seize Lothal. They were the Empire's finest instruments, and they would not—could not—fail in their mission. The galaxy desperately needed a change in temperament among those who wielded the Force, and the Inquisitorius would be there to enforce it.

Finally, the Tenth Sister spoke.

The purring delight in her voice amused the First Sister. For a moment, Alexandra imagined a world where everyone responded to her commands with such enthusiasm and eagerness. The Tenth Sister then relayed her assessments of each individual she had observed.

Two stood out.

The first was the towering, strange figure who, from what Alexandra could decipher, existed partially beyond the touch of the Force. Such things greatly displeased her. Those who existed outside the Force's grasp were naturally more difficult to control and, by extension, more likely to resist the authority of the Inquisition.

Then came the truly disturbing discovery. The Tenth Sister had located the rogue Force-sensitive. A young officer, not one of their own. Weak, untrained, and entirely unaware of her potential, yet the culprit nonetheless.

The First Sister's eyes immediately shifted toward the Tenth Sister as she transmitted a single word through their connection.

"Silent."

She would understand, this information was not to be shared with anyone. Alexandra already had several ideas regarding how it might be used to her advantage.

A second message followed shortly after.

"Thank you, Tenth Sister. It greatly pleases me when you obey my commands with such passion."

The discussion continued as General Aron held his own against the many questions and challenges presented by the assembled Imperials. For a brief moment, Alexandra thought that would be the end of the disruptions to order that the Inquisition seemed oddly predisposed toward.

Then the Second Brother spoke again. Jekkath was correct, his words were sensible and served as a necessary reminder that division would lead them nowhere. It was not his statement that concerned her, it was the response she anticipated from the Sixth Sister.

Alexandra quickly interjected.

"Wise words, Second Brother. General Aron, please excuse us while the Inquisition returns to our transport. I believe there is much that needs to be discussed."

Her gaze swept briefly across the room before she raised a hand and motioned for the Inquisitors to follow. They would return to their assigned vessel and certain matters would be discussed. Preferably before someone found themselves no longer in possession of an attached neck.

 

[Tenth Sister]

Location: Hangar - Resolute
Thread Objective: Future of the Empire
Tag: Cerein Aron Alexandra Delaine Arturion of Kalidan Evander Thule Zara Saga Cerria Desyk Isabelle Zythor Shan Pellian Cassius Dorne Abaddon Thol James Raddock Augustus Tassar Azen Thanas Killian Rath Jekkath Raxus Galen Corvain Aldric Vael
Attire: Light Inquisitorial Weave
Equipment: Double-Bladed Spinning Lightsaber - Hilt

Tenth Sister continued with her tasking, her empathic aura gliding from one speaker to another as the meeting progressed. The Zabrak spoke next, and the emotional resonance in the hangar abruptly shifted as the assembled Imperials collectively processed the fact that the speaker was an alien. She registered the metaphysical imprints of disgust, contempt, and indignation, punctuated by a few outward sighs and pointed eyerolls. A soft, inaudible hiss slipped from her lips, her mouth forming in a tight line beneath the mask of her helmet. Although the Zabrak was a Near-Human rather than a true alien, his presence attracted visceral reactions. She knew that were she to remove her helmet, she might attract similar responses when the Imperials saw her long, whisker-like eyebrows, pointed ears, and glowing eyes. As of now, those features were safely concealed, her ears tucked in apertures to prevent them from being uncomfortably scrunched inside her helmet.

In spite of her trepidation, she transmitted the sensations of the Zabrak’s suppressed fear, contemplative disposition, and bravery to First Sister, before shifting her attention elsewhere.

A white-clad ISB officer with dark hair and peach-toned skin spoke next, opening with a calculated percentage regarding the Imperials’ chances of successfully taking Lothal in one movement. Tenth Sister concentrated on his emotional impressions, taking in his skepticism, discipline, and pragmatic mentality. All those, she conveyed to First Sister without embellishment, each colored with what she perceived to be his underlying self-assurance.

From there, General Aron took the floor again. Tenth Sister’s eyes widened slightly when he openly refrained from speaking more on the Inquisitorius. That in her mind was a wise, respectable choice, even knowing that his plan was intended to work against her.

The Inquisitorius maintained a large array of secrets. It stood to reason then that the Imperials would hold secrets of their own, as well.

She imparted her impressions of the General’s emotions to First Sister just as the red-clad Moff spoke up, his words emphasizing the importance of building Imperial institutions and government after Lothal. It seemed that he was less concerned with taking Lothal than what would come after. In particular, the structures and systems which would be established for the Emperor to inherit. Again, something of his nature blocked her from reading his emotional impressions directly through the Force. However, it did not stop Tenth Sister from enhancing her senses, sharpening her eyes so that she could better perceive any possible micro-expressions or physiological responses which might subtly shift his features.

She transmitted any potential observations to First Sister, presenting them as exaggerated impressions of a shifting face within her awareness.

Second Brother claimed the silence that followed in the wake of the giant’s words, analogizing the tuk’ata hunt to the concentrated fist of Imperial order. The Inquisitor, she knew, was a hunter. A single-minded warrior-predator skilled in the practice of the hunt. He explained the concept simply, but Tenth Sister recognized the truth in it. If they moved with singular violence and celerity of action, their chances of taking Lothal would be almost assured.

For the Rattataki Inquisitor, she transmitted the predatory aggression and calculation that she knew defined him.

It was then that First Sister’s thanks arrived as a soft, telepathic warmth that melted through the tension. Her forehead relaxed as a rosy glow bloomed across her cheeks. A thin film of sweat dewed her features. Fortunately, her role in the meeting was over. She turned then, before moving to follow the First Sister towards the shuttle.

It was time for the Inquisitorius to leave.

 

[Zara Saga]

Location: The Resolute
Tags: Everyone
​

A heavy mental weight lingered after the Second Brother's telepathic response sliced through her awareness. Jekkath's dark, predatory promises would have unnerved a lesser person, but the threat only fueled Zara's inner defiance. Her mind remained entirely occupied by a simmering annoyance toward the Rattataki, effectively tuning out the remainder of General Aron's operational brief.

Words regarding logistics, regional deployment vectors, and planetary pacification faded into background white noise. The strategic destination was Lothal, and the overall objective was clear enough. She would act as a tool for this newly consolidated remnant and execute her duties without complaint, provided they simply pointed her toward the local mystics and let her dismantle them.

First Sister's sudden interjection cut through the stagnant air of the hangar bay, officially excusing the Inquisitorius from the table. A swift command to return to the transport signaled that the time for political theater had ended. Relieved to escape the stuffy high command, Zara turned on her heel and began pushing her way back through the dense crowd of naval officers and stormtroopers.

 

[Azen Thanas]

Location: The Resolute
Tags: Every Single One Of You
​

Debates dragged on while the higher-ups parsed the ethics of governance and administrative philosophy. Moving his hand to rest casually on the grip of his holstered blaster, Azen kept his eyes locked on the command table, tuning out the theoretical noise. Had the command been his, the deployment orders would have already been issued, the transports prepped, and the vanguard halfway to the surface of Lothal. Bureaucracy and administrative hand-wringing could wait until the territory was secured under Imperial boots.

A silent promise kept him grounded at parade rest. Since he lacked the rank to cut through the chatter, silence remained his best weapon. The endless cycle of drifting between the stars, rationing fuel, and living out of battered hulls had worn thin. Two weeks of brutal fighting on Quintus had proven the Ninth could still strike with precision, but they needed a permanent anchor, a solid piece of ground to call a staging area.

General Aron's refusal to coddle the dissenters brought a cold, satisfied smirk to Azen's face. The tactical readiness of the infantry was primed and waiting for the word to drop. With the assembly drawing to a close and the Inquisitors finally slinking back to their transports, the real work was about to begin. The galaxy was still broken, but the campaign for Lothal offered a definitive starting point to fix it.

 

[Galen Tagge]

Location: The Titus
Objective 1: Arrival
Cerein Aron

"All units, prepare to drop out of lightspeed." The speaker rang out across the cruiser as the Titus was making its final approach on Lothal. Galen had just finished picking a freighter dry after it fell into the gravity well of the Titus. A few blasters there, a crate of spice here, he let the crew live, spread fear. But Galen felt empty he missed the days of sitting in his destroyer hovering over Tepasi watching the stock for Tagge CO rise through the roof. But there is time to mope later. As he saw Lothal materialize in front of him, he had the crew prepare his shuttle. "Lieutenant, notify General Aron of my arrival." He twisted around, his brand new white cape following suit down to the hanger. By the time Galen got there, the thrusters were on and ready for take off. "To the Resolute gentlemen, we don't want to be later than we already are."​

 

[Cerein Aron]

"To rebuild what was lost." | Tags - Evander Thule | Augustus Tassar | Aldric Vael | Abaddon Thol | Aki Nagaoka

The questions could wait. Aron knew when the troops were restless and the men didn't want to sit around for more speeches. Directly turning to the inquisitive man who had asked, there was only one response.

"In time, giant."

Every challenge, every criticism, every concern raised throughout the gathering had come from individuals who still possessed the capacity to think. Men and women who questioned, calculated, analyzed, and sought solutions rather than comforting lies. That was a far more valuable resource than any fleet, regiment, or treasury.

For a moment Aron allowed the silence to settle, allowing his eyes moved across the assembly one final time. He saw a strange collection of individuals bound together by little more than a shared refusal to surrender. Many would not have trusted one another six months ago, some likely still did not, yet they stood beneath the same banner, for that alone was a victory.

The First Sister formally withdrew the Inquisitorius from the gathering and Aron offered a respectful nod in return.

"Your presence is appreciated, First Sister."

His gaze followed the departing members of the Order for only a moment before returning to those who remained. Swiftly looking around, he mustered his final words.

"When I first gathered what remained of the Ninth Mechanized Corps, there were those who said we should become warlords."

His voice was calm, almost incredibly so.

"There were those who said survival was enough."

His eyes drifted briefly toward the viewport where the stars stretched endlessly beyond the hull.

"There were those who said the Empire was dead."

A pause, he knew it was no time for a speech, so the General straightened.

"Take Lothal and take it professionally. Take it efficiently. Take it together."

His eyes narrowed slightly.

"And when it is done, we will begin building the future that so many have spent years merely talking about."

For the first time during the entire assembly, a faint smile touched his features.

"Unless there are any final matters requiring immediate attention, this meeting is concluded."

His gaze shifted toward the nearest officer.

"Notify all commands."

Then to another.

"Prepare operational briefings."

Then finally toward the room itself.

"Return to your stations."

The smile vanished, for the General of the Ninth Mechanized Corps stood once more as he always had, as a soldier, for he was nothing more, nothing less.

"Long live the Empire."

-EXIT-​

 

[Galen Corvain]

James Raddock | Isabelle Zythor
​

Galen offered the Admiral a slight nod of acknowledgement. The gathering had already suffered one disruption, it did not need another. Whatever his personal opinion of the exchange, discipline and decorum remained the responsibility of every officer present.

The target of the admiral's request was not someone Galen was familiar with, but by all accounts she was navy. Not the 3rd, certainly, and judging by her accent, she wasn't from anywhere he'd heard of. The admiral's interest in her was clear. They were hosting all sorts of people today, but when it came to the navy, this was his house. If she was to play a part, a higher standard would be expected.

That the admiral had given the order as a whisper already told him they did not need a public scene. The debate was to continune, while he ensured the navy was no source of embarrassment.

Galen withdrew into the crowd, and made his way around the back. Stepping closer to Captain Zythor, he lowered his voice so that the conversation remained between them.

"Captain, a word of advice." he chose to lead with her rank, in part because he did not know her name. She did outrank him, yet as she was not a part of their operation, he felt the matter to be of little relevance. "I believe everyone present understood your objection. There was no need to make a demonstration of it. We are all representatives of something larger than ourselves. The Admiral expects Imperial officers to conduct themselves accordingly. I would advise remembering that."

She had already seen the order be given. While she heard the voice of Galen, she knew who the words belonged to. In the end, Galen didn't truly matter in this equation, he was merely a vessel.

"It would be unfortunate if they remembered your accent more clearly than your service record."

With that, Galen inclined his head politely. The matter was not one up for argument, nor was it his place to demand agreement. The Admiral had issued an instruction, and Galen had carried it out. Whether the Captain accepted the advice or took offense to it was entirely her own concern.

He would wait to allow little more than brief acknowledgement, before stepping away and return his attention to the proceedings.