Invasion System Shock: Coveted Authority | TSC Invasion of GE-held Coruscant Superhex Objective Four

[Arris Windrun]

INSIDE THE IMPERIAL PALACE - HEADING TO THE THRONE ROOM
Indirect:
(Allies) Mercy | Quinn Varanin | Srina Talon | Darth Carnifex | Aelissandre | Vesper Thrace
(Opps) St. Thomas Barran | Da'Razel | Krasskorr the Maw | Remowa
Direct: Hasuras Na-Amoun | Eurydice

"Wha…you…." she gaped, unable to get over how Arris's feminine cadence had shifted into Solipsis' grizzled drawl. Between this, and the flickering visage in her head…

She paid little mind to the girl's shock, though she admittedly felt small pleasure at provoking a reaction, as there was little else in the room to extract joy from.

Arris had been arrogant to any intrusions from Gerra; either he didn't call to her, or she wasn't receptive to it. She raised a brow when Amoun grabbed his head, and was even more confused by Eurydice's reaction, turning to watch the frightened girl wail at seemingly nothing. A wiser Arris might've suspected the trickery of battle meditation at play, but that too was beyond the scope of her imagination.

"What are you on about?" Arris called down from a raised platform, stern but not loud.

Amoun tilted his head at Eurydice before looking back to Arris. "Is this random hysteric supposed to offer you a tactical advantage or som-"

She turned back to Amoun, about to explain who the girl was (as far as Arris understood her, which was little), but it seemed their moments of interruption were not over.

"Yes," she spoke impatiently, "To the Throne Room." Every idle second ticked a thought to kill them both, and it was so hard to hold that bloodlust in check while the Dark Side ate at her resolve.

It wasn't entirely her fault - See, Windrun's brain had a droid computer lodged in it that spoiled itself rotten on the raw power of the Force, transforming her and it both into something akin to a technobeast. That was to say, it was less Arris Windrun who wanted to kill them, and more a perversion of synthetic nature that knew nothing better than to kill people.

The cyborg made sure Eurydice followed with another wave before walking step-by-step in stride with Amoun. When they arrived at the command room, Arris paused to inhale the massacre. Her face, as often, was flat. Her eyes drifted to the visage of an older woman who looked oddly defiant in death. Arris drew a sluground from her belt and dropped it beside the corpse. Her idea of respect.

She walked across the other bodies without care on their way to the Throne Room. She regarded Amoun's dry witticism and grating laugh only with a thought: He was exactly the kind of person Mercy would rope into this.

Enough of that - she returned to practicing that speech in her head.

 

[Mercy]

OBJECTIVE: 4

CORUSCANT
THE IMPERIAL PALACE

ALLIES: Arris Windrun | Srina Talon | Quinn Varanin | Vesper Thrace | Aelissandre | Darth Carnifex | Eurydice
ENEMIES: Hasuras Na-Amoun | Shannic Wulf | Da'Razel | Colm Noda | Krasskorr the Maw | Remowa | Darth Ayra

Her flesh burned, her meat lacerated, armor dented and torn, but Mercy remained in top form.

That was the issue with fighting her.

She was having fun.

At all times, even while in agony, or while succumbing to the effects of Hatred, Mercy fought with a smile. These moments of battle mixed together into a fine cocktail. Even as she smashed her skull right back into Da'Razel's, Mercy grinned with sharp and bloody teeth. But few things could keep her, if she didn’t wish to be kept, the Fire Prophet was not one of them. She ripped herself free, which may have caused even more damage inside of him, even as it caused more burns across her arm.

The next moment Krasskorr’s jaw crunched under her fist before he flew back, and Mercy sensed Srina at her back.

“…If I didn’t know better… I would say…You worry for me.”

Mercy gasped before she had time to say anything, jerking suddenly as power coursed back into her body like a live-wire. Every sinew burned again as the power of the Phobis entered her. She'd have to remind herself to thank Quinn Varanin for unleashing that monstrosity into the area.

She loved the way it made her feel. Even if she was unaware how that same damned thing was trying to get her killed by influencing Arris.

"Oh... darling, come now. I promised to get you back home by midnight, you can't blame me for doing just that."

Krasskorr was starting to recover from his daze after he flattened the stormtroopers send by Hasuras Na-Amoun . Rather rude, if you asked Mercy. Then Srina whirled around, her back pressing into Mercy's, because Da'Razel had returned to the fold. Mercy's attention was squarely on the reptile as the Empress and the Warlord swapped opponents.

The heat had returned though, that much was clear.

“Worry less for me…Fight with me. Don’t stop.”

"I never stop, Srina, you should know that." Then the lizard threw a pillar. She stepped in, feeling the Empress follow along, so not an inch of room was between them.

Mercy's hands caught the stone, and the force of it vibrated through her arms, down to her spine, and she felt her bones crack and split, even as it drove her back. Feeling the vibrations through her thick arms, causing her spine to almost creak with how she forced herself to stabilize in that moment.

She shifted the momentum, traveled with it rather than against it, and threw it off to the side. Then again with the second pillar, only now with a hungry pained growl.

Its stonework was cutting into her arms, shards rending her face.

The third pillar Mercy couldn’t grab fast enough. Too fast, but luckily Mercy didn’t need to, as she instead stepped into it. Powering through as the heavy duracrete smashed into her, making her step back, but Mercy remained rooted and did not falter.

“My turn.” She hissed and then exploded back into movement. Reaching the reptile took no time at all, between one and two breaths, she was already upon him.

Sudden darkness reigned and the only lights that tore through the night were caused by the storm or tools of war: sabers, blaster bolts, fell Force energies screaming through the sky, and so on. The opposition had failed to find the rat in their machine and now she, along with her helpers, were enforcing a horror motif upon them all. All systems were down, save for those entirely unconnected to the grid.

Then the lights went out.

Now only the flames from Da'Razel kept things relatively lit. Nice, but unnecessary.

They wouldn't escape. Not now, not ever.

Mercy had given them the option to flee, but now she was running out of patience. She had the taste of blood in her now. Already something ancient was stirring inside of her, desperate to rip them to shreds.

Even as shadows and flames cloaked them, Mercy felt Krasskorr the Maw , and slammed into him. Eagerly, full of murderous intent, as her fists tried to pound into him. These were the arms that shredded metal like paper and now they were attempting to tear into flesh.

To rip the reptile apart, to skin him alive if possible.

 

[Darth Carnifex]

"Vengeance is all I have, and in its fires I will consume you."

Plasmatic blades, the sheen of freshly spilled blood, scorched the air as it cut through wall and floor, leaving behind molten rivulets of liquefied metal. A blade that shined like brilliant sun-gold flashed to meet it wherever it swung, orange sparks splattering off when they connected. Small fires burst into being as tapestries and banners caught alight amidst their struggle.

Daella Apparine twirled backwards, soaring through the air right as the Sith Lord's carved through where she had just been a moment prior. Ruthlessly, he pressed her back, always advancing and attacking. The Dark Side swelled tumultuously around him, like a roaring tsunami that threatened to drag everything down into the dark depths of an endless abyss.

Yet, he was no berserker, he'd not lost himself to rage. To his own surprise, he was marvelously calm. Certainty and clarity of thought unburdened his mind of blinding anger, and he fought with the surety of a well-honed machine. Even so, Daella Apparine was not to be out-matched, and she met him blow-for-blow without fail. There was a reason she was a Master of the Jedi Order, yet even in the midst of battle there was something beneath the surface that tugged at Vornskr's curiosity.

Their blades met, sparkling and crackling. Daella smiled, lips curling to reveal the faintest shine of her white teeth. "It seems so small-minded and self-centered to go all this way to fight me." Her expression darkened, brow knit in determination. "This is my territory, though."

Vornskr's expression was stricken with confusion, though obscured by his horned mask. What did she mean by that? There was more to this than he understood, and the hair on the back of his neck straightened as the whisper of the truth began to dawn on him.

"And I have a duty to fulfill," she snapped with another grin, "I do not take kindly to obstacles."

She deactivated her blade and rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding the Sith's blade as it suddenly swept down. Vornskr, unbalanced, righted himself with the Force before he could fully tumble face-forward. When he whirled back towards Daella, she was already full-sprinting away from him, back towards the main atrium of the Temple. Before she was out of ear-shot, she looked back and called out to him.

"Pity, Vornskr, that vengeance is all that you are. If you seek something higher, then hold your tongue and watch."

Then she was gone, disappearing further down the corridor.

Vornskr had no choice but to pursue.

Down the road to destiny.

​

Carnifex walked through the gaping wound in the Palace's side, His shadow stretching far into the ruined interior as alarm klaxons screamed in all directions. The betrayal which had transpired mere moments ago cut deep through all levels, the signs were everywhere. Loyalists and traitors lay side by side, entwined in mutual destruction.

Fighting still occurred sporadically, the two sides of the Faithless killing one another amidst the ongoing siege. The Dark Lord made no effort to avoid their fighting, but neither did He actively seek it. Had the Faithless kept their suicidal bloodletting to themselves, then He paid them no mind. When their weapons, loyalist or traitor, turned against Him, then there was little recourse other than to destroy them.

Long gone was the needless and performative cruelty of His youth. Vornskr might have made it into a demonstration, but Carnifex only cared for results. He killed them quickly; crushed, diced, electrified. The weakened forces within the Palace would prove little challenge, not when they were so busy purging themselves.

As always, Darth Isolda followed behind the Dark Lord. She'd forgone the protective bubble during the initial assault, having viewed it as unnecessary now that they were inside. From what her visions detailed, those who could even pose a threat, as meager as it was, had already been moved outside of the Palace to fight the Covenant. Undoubtedly, whoever had orchestrated the betrayal had seen to the quiet dismantling of the Palace's most robust defenses.

The Dark Lord suspected that whoever it was hadn't anticipated Him arriving alongside the Covenant, but then again He'd never made His intentions known to anyone but the Sith Empress. He believed there was a connection to be found between the traitor Faithless and the Covenant, but Isolda's prophecies had nothing to do with the intricacies of such things; they'd only focused on the general course of the battle. Had they known what to look for, then it'd be a different matter.

Nonetheless, despite the ongoing Faithless schism, Carnifex and Isolda had but one destination in mind.

The Throne Room.

Seat of the Faithless.

A den of idolatry.

Several destinies converged there, fewer than initially anticipated. One had been cut short, visions of an older woman standing defiantly before the empty throne swam at the forefront of the Dark Lord's mind. That future no longer existed. Instead, her lightless eyes stared up into nothingness, snuffed out by a traitor's edict.

What would come next was unknown even to Isolda. Prophecies only revealed so much, and the future was always in motion.

Nothing was ever certain.

Srina Talon | Mercy | Arris Windrun
Quinn Varanin | Vesper Thrace | Aelissandre
Eurydice | Krasskorr the Maw | Remowa
Da'Razel | Hasuras Na-Amoun | Thorn
@St. Thomas Barran| Shannic Wulf ​

 

[Srina Talon]

OBJECTIVE: 4
LOCATION: Coruscant [Imperial Palace]
APPEARANCE: XoXo
SC ALLIES: Arris Windrun | Mercy | Quinn Varanin | Vesper Thrace | Aelissandre | Darth Carnifex | Eurydice | Tavi Corvask | Hasuras Na-Amoun
GE ENEMY (Close By): Krasskorr the Maw | Da'Razel
GE ENEMY (Distant): Colm Noda | Remowa | St. Thomas Barran [____________________________________________________

"Oh... darling, come now. I promised to get you back home by midnight, you can't blame me for doing just that."

“Oh, how thoughtful of you.”

The dry response was lifted by the wintry sarcasm the Empress exuded through teeth that ground so tightly together they might crack. She kept the focus of the Fire Giant while they moved in tandem, as if they had fought together for years, rather than a singular mishap over a tobacco pipe in another galaxy. Srina maintained, deadpan, that the offending object had simply leapt out of Mercy’s hand and into the waiting valley below…But that was neither here nor there.

Things were moving quickly now…From the defection to an explosion that was a little too close for comfort, she could no longer distinguish individual deaths from the masses that perished in waves. Srina shifted smoothly to adjust when the Warlord was driven back by a renewed assault from the crocodile, the line of her form covered, always, so that she could keep drinking down the power the living fire offered without interruption.

The sheer heat should have driven her to her knees…But she refused to break, palm out, pointed toward the towering, shambling entity that Da'Razel had dragged into being. Metaphysical fingers crawled along the surface of the creature while she wove herself into its structure, searching for seams, threads, to pull on and exploit. It was a slow process…

But she didn’t have time for slow.

Her fingers curved, turning, and her chin raised while her hand formed a fist and she peeled away even more tendrils of cosmic fire. It streamed toward her, stronger now, and it was about then that Krasskorr the Maw recovered from a bone-shattering punch to the face, plus a sudden assault by his own stormtroopers. The crocodile was very likely…Not having a very good day. Unfortunately, it was about to get worse.

When Mercy started to throw the first pillar to the side, Srina reacted swiftly, as if they had communicated, but no words were spoken. Her free hand twisted, not to form flame, but to use the energy that she was collecting in spades. The longer it remained on the field, the more she could take in…But she could already feel it clanging around in her body, violent, trying to find a way out. So…The pale woman would let it free.

A ring of ember-bright sigils snapped into existence, hissing like a furnace, with an edge of rotating molten-gold lines. Another ring ignited a breath later, offset—Paired.

The nearest pillar rose and shot itself through a portal that was just large enough to accommodate it. The second had opened high in the sky, partially obscured by the storm, and she returned the duracrete Imperial property to its most religious supporter. Not directly… But from a space high overhead…One, then the other, one-way portals opening and closing to jettison objects that would fall like kinetic bombardment.

Directly above Da'Razel

It was the same as their entry to the courtyard.

Everything was ammunition in the right hands.

When she heard Mercy shout from the weight of the stone tearing her muscles apart, she thought the behemoth might have finally taken it too far…But alas, no. There was a displacement of air from behind her, and she instinctively knew that the Warlord would go after the lizard which left her the loud, loud, very loud priest.

Sudden darkness reigned and the only lights that tore through the night were caused by the storm or tools of war: sabers, blaster bolts, fell Force energies screaming through the sky, and so on. The opposition had failed to find the rat in their machine and now she, along with her helpers, were enforcing a horror motif upon them all. All systems were down, save for those entirely unconnected to the grid.

Srina did not slow when darkness fell, even though it did leave her at a distinct disadvantage. Part of her strength lay in Echani eyes that were keener than most, seeing what no one else could. She could need to be careful of her blind spots, but the Dark Side did not require illumination to be effective. Her gaze found the Firedancer by the pressure of his faith. He was flashy, exhausting, but incandescent. He obviously wanted to be seen.

Who was she to deny his wish?

Once more…The ring on her finger began to vibrate, but this time, she wouldn’t have to rely on her own reserves. Between the amplification by the Phobis Core and the might she was stripping from the Fire Giant, there was no need. Stolen fire did not remain fire. She inverted it, and the temperature around her collapsed in a violent shockwave. Frost raced across the broken floor, climbing slag and broken stone, before snapping outward in a sub-zero surge.

It wasn’t the wave she sent before.

This was new.

Jagged spears of ice tore into existence, but they weren’t thrown blindly. They tracked—Drawn to the Firedancer’s heat signature. The attack howled through the dark, shrieking, while they sought to impale the priest, and Srina’s gaze never left him. Her head tilted, and another volley appeared, then another. Sronias flared…

Still…It was not enough.

More spears arrived in rapid succession, each emergence marked by a concussive crack, hammering the space Da'Razel occupied. Where he stood, where he might move, where escape would tempt him. She used the darkness like a weapon, driving the assault down without pause to breathe. The Empress advanced with every summon, relentless, while the Fire Giant shuddered as more of its essence was ripped away.

She spent the power the instant it touched her skin, striking again, and again, and again—Without mercy, without hesitation, without end.

Her voice slipped through the air, a low, ominous growl.

“Die.”

Spoiler: Equpiment

Armour Saber Ring Ring Terentatek Body Gloves HG-54 "The Vora" Class Hand Cannon Holding Aces

 

[Krasskorr the Maw]

FOOD: Mercy

​

As he dragged his enormous body over the twisted remnants of the 551st traitors, he glimpsed through the smog the Empress Srina Talon starting to weave the very essence of the battlefield itself. The pillars he had thrown, powerful as they were and intended to bury her, were being consumed by molten-gold rifts and ejected as kinetic meteors targeting the Saint.

Then, the last flickers of light in the palace extinguished, engulfed by a void that would have unsettled a weaker being. However, Krasskorr was a hunter, accustomed to navigating murky swamps with poor visibility on the fringes of the Galactic Empire. With scent taking the place of direct vision, he could detect her presence in the shift of air before he even heard her footsteps. Mercy was heading straight for him, a freight train of golden malice and torn armor.

He waited for her to land the first blow, as the Warlord exploded into his space her fists aiming to tear him apart. Instead of backing away, he absorbed a vicious hit to the shoulder that made him reel, forcing him down into the ground.

However, he leveraged that downward force to stabilize himself. He coiled his powerful, muscular tail, its hefty thagomizer at the tip shimmering with a subtle dark-side energy. "Fool.." His mangled jaw hissed, with a guttural roar that sprayed blood across the floor, Krasskorr pivoted his entire three-ton weight.

Channeling the destructive energies swirling around them into his core, swinging his tail in a devastating horizontal arc. It wasn't just a physical strike but a localized earthquake. The spiked tip of his tail, reinforced by the surge of the Dark Side ensured that Mercy could not potentially avoid it without being shredded by the spikes crossing motion.

Krasskorr didn't look to see if it worked, immediately thrashing with his claws in wide arcs to make the hunter into the prey.

 

[Hasuras Na-Amoun]

​

Location: Federal District - Imperial Palace - Throne Room
Attn: Arris Windrun Eurydice Darth Carnifex St. Thomas Barran
CC: Mercy Srina Talon Quinn Varanin Remowa

Planetary Shield Generator: Online | Imperial Palace: LOYALIST PURGE ONGOING | Hypervelocity Cannons: Online - RETARGETING​

The rest of the trip was nothing special. A few more checkpoints, a few more remarks from Hasuras Na-Amoun followed by his peeling laughter. Eventually they came to the audience chamber, which was strewn with the corpses of sovereign protectors and stormtroopers. The embellished reliefs were pock-marked, scorched, and torn in the same confrontation that killed them all. There was nothing left alive here.

So it was only Arris and Eurydice who witnessed Amoun throwing open the heavy doors to the throne room, exposing a stark, imposing circular chamber. A great vaulted ceiling vanished into darkness. Great banners sat dusty and undisturbed. A sinister metal chair dominated the center.

"Behold, the Imperial seat!" Amoun declared, spreading his hands wide as the doors opened. "Empty, as per usual. They could've installed a wax figure at least."

Simple consoles lined the walls. These were tied to a vast array of communications equipment. enabling the Emperor to transmit his pronouncements directly to the whole of the Empire. Just what Windrun required.

Amoun strolled in, pausing just after passing the threshold to incline his head one way - as if listening to something. He heard the voices of his Tribunes, reporting on the unfolding battle and the approach of Darth Carnifex. They, in turn, heard his orders. Amoun shortly returned his attention to the present moment.

"Make whatever it is you're doing quick. Carnifex is walking here and I'm not planning on waving my lightsabers at him."

Carnifex wasn't part of the deal at all. He was far above Amoun's paygrade and would probably remain that way for a decade or so. So the up-and-coming Emperor Amoun posted himself up against a nearby console, arms folded, and waited impatiently for Arris to execute her routine.

Darth Carnifex

Inconsequential though it may have been, the soldiers of the 551st and the auxiliaries they commanded troubled Darth Carnifex no further. They absented themselves from the hallways he traversed, returning only once he had well and truly passed. No hope in stopping him, no point in making the attempt.​

​

Outside, the artillery strikes against the Blackblades finally ceased. The palace courtyard - save for the uppermost steps and breaches where the 551st were conducting their savage purge - was now absent of Imperial forces, either dead or fled.​

St. Thomas Barran

The same could not be said of the surrounding city blocks. Amoun still held command of the battalions embedded within the rest of the Federal District. Rattled and tested by skirmishes with Covenant soldiers, but still in fighting shape. Their officers were enthralled to Amoun, just as the Tribunes of the 551st were.​

​

Transmissions went out quickly: Barran was attempting a coup against the Empire. He had rallied the citizenry of Coruscant to his mad cause, armed them against standing policy, and was now leading an insurrectionist mob towards the palace.​

​

Barran and his units were to be destroyed.​

​

The Maw-Khan and his forces would be subjected to the same onslaught of artillery that had been previously directed against the Blackblade Legion. Every centimeter they advanced towards the palace was contested by stormtrooper checkpoints, marksmen nests, minefields, and wire. Not to mention the armored units that blockaded the avenues.​

​

A flight of gunships - surplus left over from the days of the Dark Empire - suddenly peeled out from the palace hangars under escort of atmospheric strike craft. These would doggedly strafe the more lightly armed elements of Barran's cohort whenever they happened to rear their heads.​

​

The soldiers of the Empire had been drilled into unthinking obedience. They did not question orders from the palace. Amoun delighted in wielding this blind loyalty against its architects. They would fight on, even as the Federal District was consumed by darkness, storm, and bombardment. It was a war fought in hell.​

​

Untold numbers of Imperial soldiery now died for the sake of an empty throne, either to keep it that way or to see it filled by a rank and despicable traitor.​

PREVIOUS POST | NEXT POST​

 

[Hasuras Na-Gerra]

If you had not sinned so greatly,
Vahl would not have set a scourge like me upon you.

Continued from Here.

ABOARD THE STAR DESTROYER "HYSTEN"

Srina Talon | Krasskorr the Maw | Da'Razel | Mercy | Hasuras Na-Amoun | Arris Windrun | Eurydice
​

The skies above the imperial palace were black as pitch. Gerra could see nothing through the forward viewport as the Hysten churned through the Force Storm save when crimson threads of lightning flashed, threading between the grim clouds.

Gerra seethed with a hatred and a fury. He loathed cowards, given honors and position without merit. Now he could come to judge them, and Vahl would revel in the destruction he wrought.

Lightning from the Force Storm struck the Hysten and Gerra held up a hand against the blinding light. The shields failed, cleaved dry by the raw power of the Storm. In that instant, lightning struck again, forking in a half-dozen arcs as if it despised the presence of this vessel which dared to tread through it. It blasted the hull, frying electronics and melting durasteel to slag. The Hysten groaned ominously and tilted, engines sputtering.

"Great Qhan, we should turn back," cried the helmsman.

"No, no. I can sense him. He's just below us."

More tendrils of lightning rained down and smote the Star Destroyer. Two of the massive ion engines failed entirely.

"We are losing thrust, Qhan!"

Alarms blared inside the bridge. Then the anti-gravity repulsors failed and the Star Destroyer tilted toward the ground.

"Fire consecrate us," whispered the helmsman, "We are falling."

Gerra snarled, staring out the viewport. He could still sense the presence of St. Thomas Barran just below.

"Bring us down on top of him."

"Qhan?"

Shoving aside the helmsman, Gerra seized the controls and guided the mighty Star Destroyer in its implacable descent toward the ground. He strained at the controls and the active repulsors flared.

KRAKA-DOOOOM

KRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEECH​

With an almighty crunch of durasteel, the thousand meters of Star Destroyer came down upon the surface of Coruscant, crushing everything in its path as it ground through the High Flats and toward the steps of the Imperial Palace. Whatever lay beneath it would surely be obliterated instantly.

The impact flung Gerra against the bridge's viewport and he toppled out the shattered front, flying free and landing against the hull of the Star Destroyer far below. His armor bit into him and he felt a rib snap within him.

The Star Destroyer's wreckage came to a grinding halt.

The Qhan of the Vahla groaned, then let out a bellow as he drew upon the Dark Side for strength. I am the Flame of Vahl. He rose to his feet and with great bounding leaps aided by the Force jumped from the prow of the Star Destroyer to the ground far below, where waited his hated foe.

The Khan of the Maw, whose assembled forces were surely obliterated beneath the weight of the falling Star Destroyer.

"BARRAN. FACE ME NOW, YOU GORMLESS OAF."

St. Thomas Barran
​

No more would the Khanate contingent elude their enemies, and with air-to-ground bombardments lessening to noticeable extreme, Barran, Katis and Kryze had a freedom of movement they initially lacked at the start of the assault; and with that same amplification of mobility, the newly-grown agglomeration could strike all the more quickly at their desired targets, especially with hindrances between objectives diminishing to a new, and still-descending low. Much worse for those who remained to slow their advance, as there would be more than scions of Yesteryear's Trinity to face by then, and with the local Coruscanti element still rallying to their defenders, more yet still would step forth to fire upon the planet's assailants.

​

​

 

[Arris Windrun]

INSIDE THE IMPERIAL THRONE ROOM
Direct: Hasuras Na-Amoun | Eurydice
Attention: Mercy Acier Moonbound Delvin jeth Jordi Massad Kesh Hevro Hasuras Na-Gerra Mercy Srina Talon Quinn Varanin Darth Carnifex Varin Mortifer Lysander von Ascania Ansisa Xan Atropus Darth Amaymon St. Thomas Barran Yuri Maji Kirie Lina Ovmar Makko Dres Neriah Calven Da'Razel Krasskorr the Maw Remowa Vesper Thrace Aelissandre Sid Berik Reiner Ghadi Naniti

Along the way, the lights briefly flickered as power fluctuated throughout the city. It seemed Riffraff managed to turn out the lights after all, good for her, but the Imperial Palace - as expected - had its own power source, and thus the lights within remained on.

Amoun threw the Throne Room doors open and proclaimed upon an empty seat. Lack of use was evident from the amount of dust that accumulated. When the traitor mentioned the approach of Carnifex, Arris only paused to look at him for a moment's consideration. Was that another of the Dark Side Elite come to stop them? Mercy, naturally, failed to mention him by name. Of course, it wasn't to the Dark Lord's discredit that Windrun was unfamiliar. She was just truly ignorant of Sith Order politics and spent most of her life living in the gutters of Talus or Narsh. Not the places where Dark Lords were discussed.

She looked back at Eurydice, which was becoming something of a recurring activity at this point as the girl followed along. "Find something to do."

Realizing how that might be taken out of context, she recorrected. "Meditate."

Then, Arris approached the communications consoles and inserted her cyberjack and got to work...

ELSEWHERE. Across the ecumenopolis, it was lights out under a dark crimson sky. Flashes of lightning and turbolaser illuminated a capital under siege. Whole skyscrapers collapsed, burning like a great forest against the dusk. Among the sound of thunder and battle, PA systems had been repeating a single phrase one second after the other.

"RISE UP! RESIST!"​

With a few commands, the noise ceased. First a crackle, then silence, until...

"Prattle…"​

Arris spoke - emulating the Emperor's voice just as she practiced. Already, the vision of him was burned into the minds of thousands or more. Perhaps some smelled the ruse, but would the soldiers under the duress of battle? Would the ordinary people in their panic? A personality cult was a difficult thing to shake, and in all likelihood, hearing his voice radiate from the Emperor's own channels was enough for even officers to believe.

She continued, letting her Hatred seethe coldly into each word.

"You thought you could imprison me."

A pause.

"You thought I wouldn't reclaim control of my empire. You should have killed me while you had the chance. I don't care that you tried. I care that you failed."

All across the ecumenopolis, in the streets, along official imperial challenges, his voice was heard.

"You know what I do with traitors."

And finally, an order followed, going out across all imperial channels. With the Palace under Amoun's control, this meant the jammers would not stop the transmissions from going out all across the Deep Core, to imperial stations, garrisons, fleets, and beyond.

"Purge... Everything..."

The transmission cut after that, and Arris stepped away from the console. She turned back to Amoun.

"Now - I guess we wait for Mercy?"