Remaining silent, Ballen-Ist would simply stand still, waiting for Prince [member="Vogjon"] to finish speaking. Harnessing the force's power, the young Sith Knight would begin to send telepathic images to his soldiers who had been present the entire time, for they had disguised themselves as royal guards long ago. The prince's betrayal was a set back, for the boy truly believed he could have recovered the situation. Though, it seemed it was far too late for that. Standin beside the king, Ballen-Ist would take advantage of his position, his hand slowly reaching downwards to the inside of his cloak. The pictures that appeared in the minds of his troopers detailed the execution of opposition, mainly the royal guards that had just arrived.
Lifting their blasters, the storm troopers in disguise would begin to open fire across the throne room, quickly lining up horizontally to create a wave of bolts that would hopefully decimate the opposing forces. Vogjon would not be caught in this attack, for he had made it clear that no harm would come to the man. Yet. Grasping the dark, metallic handle of his saber, Ballen-Ist would pull the weapon from his belt, igniting it as he placed his hand behind the throne. The red beam of plasma would surge forward, stabbing through the throne and into the king's chest. "Long live the king." The pureblood would sneer, before violently pulling his blade from Ebjon's torso. Snatching the crown from the deceased's head, Ballen-Ist would look it over, admiring the shining jewels. The ten soldiers he had present would split into to groups, one exiting the throne room while the others began to scavenge. They would begin collecting the valuables in the room, be it fancy tapestry, paintings, even the jewels that had decorated the golden throne. The young boy would snicker in delight, surely he would get a few hundred thousand credits.
Blaster fire would echo through the corridors as the group of five that had departed from the throne room met resistance, consisting of several palace guards that had noticed the commotion. The five soldiers that remained in the throne room would begin to leave, quickly sprinting towards the exit and going the opposite way, towards the palace hangars. A few explosions would sound out, as the storm troopers utilized thermal detonators, blasting away the Tof resistance. Though, more would surely come. The Imperials were heavily out numbered, they needed to leave. Now. Marching towards the exit with a grin on his face, Ballen-Ist would turn to glance at Vogjon, shaking his head in disappointment. "You would've made a great Imperial, too." The young Knight would say, lifting his hand up to aim at the yellow skinned man. Reaching out with the force, the pureblood would bend it to his will, harnessing the dark side as it attempted to form a powerful grip around Vogjon's throat. The telekinesis would continue to squeeze down on the man's neck, resulting in no air flow to his brain or lungs. "Goodbye." He would say, as his open palm closed, fingers clenching tightly into a fist, attempting to crush the man's neck entirely.
If this was done, the boy would turn, his black cloak billowing in his wake as he exited the throne room. His arm would raise as he turned into the hallway, swatting away a few blaster bolts as his soldiers came rushing towards him, obviously a bad sign. Turning as well, Ballen-Ist would begin to sprint, leading his team towards the private hangars of the palace. From there, they would fight against any opposition that stood in there way, eventually hoping to board a Tof shuttle, or perhaps Ballen-Ist's own Lambda class Imperial shuttle. Either way, they would take off, swerving through the air in order to avoid turret fire. They would break through the atmosphere, watching as the massive star destroyer did the same. "That was fun."
