Derisive Umbaran
DROMUND VATSU
VATSU CITY ART MUSEUM
Jen'ari, as Adekos had read, was the Old Sith word for "Dark Lord." Once upon a time, a middling One Sith dropout with delusions of grandeur ran away to the farthest reaches of the Unknown Regions to start an organization that affectionately referred to itself as the Jen'ari Empire. Which translated loosely into "Dark Lord Empire," which would mean the Empire was composed entirely of Dark Lords. Which was stupid. Unless it was supposed to be the possessive, in which case it would be the Dark Lord's Empire. Which was also stupid, because there was only one Dark Lord and he already had an empire that occupied the Core Worlds and then some.
So who in the Corellian hells were these people supposed to be?
Well, it didn't matter. Darth Adekos wasn't here to launch an in-depth cultural analysis of the Jen'ari Empire or investigate the grammar and logic behind their name. He was here because so far the only focal point for any prestige these muckrakers had was in their capitol city- a museum. A cultural center. When the people of this world weren't stumbling about from casino to casino, they apparently found the time to visit the museum and ogle the various pieces of priceless artwork. That is, when they weren't worshiping someone calling themselves Vyrassu as a god. An absentee, insolent, incontinent god. Theocracies like this were disgusting. Adekos would enjoy robbing them blind.
Night had fallen on Vatsu City by the time Darth Adekos made his way up the steps of the museum. The last tourists had just exited the building and an attendant was standing by the open door, bidding everyone farewell. The attendant seemed a little alarmed at Adekos' approach. No one ever showed up outside a museum in a mask in the middle of the night with good intentions. "Ah, apologies, sir. The museum is closed."
"No, it isn't."
The attendant paused to think for a moment as the Force worked its magic. When theocracies worked properly, everyone in them believed the same nonsensical story. If they believed in nonsensical stories, they were a whole lot easier to trick and manipulate with the Force. "Oh. My mistake." The attendant held the door open for Adekos to enter, which the Umbaran kindly did.
"No problem." Adekos gave the stupefied attendant a pat on the back as he moved into the building. "Just lock those doors behind us."
"Uh, us?"
There was an unmistakable roar as a dropship, burdened with battle droids and a few of Adekos' colleagues, landed mere meters away from the entrance.
VATSU CITY ART MUSEUM
Jen'ari, as Adekos had read, was the Old Sith word for "Dark Lord." Once upon a time, a middling One Sith dropout with delusions of grandeur ran away to the farthest reaches of the Unknown Regions to start an organization that affectionately referred to itself as the Jen'ari Empire. Which translated loosely into "Dark Lord Empire," which would mean the Empire was composed entirely of Dark Lords. Which was stupid. Unless it was supposed to be the possessive, in which case it would be the Dark Lord's Empire. Which was also stupid, because there was only one Dark Lord and he already had an empire that occupied the Core Worlds and then some.
So who in the Corellian hells were these people supposed to be?
Well, it didn't matter. Darth Adekos wasn't here to launch an in-depth cultural analysis of the Jen'ari Empire or investigate the grammar and logic behind their name. He was here because so far the only focal point for any prestige these muckrakers had was in their capitol city- a museum. A cultural center. When the people of this world weren't stumbling about from casino to casino, they apparently found the time to visit the museum and ogle the various pieces of priceless artwork. That is, when they weren't worshiping someone calling themselves Vyrassu as a god. An absentee, insolent, incontinent god. Theocracies like this were disgusting. Adekos would enjoy robbing them blind.
Night had fallen on Vatsu City by the time Darth Adekos made his way up the steps of the museum. The last tourists had just exited the building and an attendant was standing by the open door, bidding everyone farewell. The attendant seemed a little alarmed at Adekos' approach. No one ever showed up outside a museum in a mask in the middle of the night with good intentions. "Ah, apologies, sir. The museum is closed."
"No, it isn't."
The attendant paused to think for a moment as the Force worked its magic. When theocracies worked properly, everyone in them believed the same nonsensical story. If they believed in nonsensical stories, they were a whole lot easier to trick and manipulate with the Force. "Oh. My mistake." The attendant held the door open for Adekos to enter, which the Umbaran kindly did.
"No problem." Adekos gave the stupefied attendant a pat on the back as he moved into the building. "Just lock those doors behind us."
"Uh, us?"
There was an unmistakable roar as a dropship, burdened with battle droids and a few of Adekos' colleagues, landed mere meters away from the entrance.