Faction The Price Of Empire [NIO]

[IMPCOM]

// LOCATION // Nirauan // Hand Of Thrawn // TIMELINE // Following the Congregation // THEMATIC // Thrawn

Treading in the wake of ancient history, a New Order would form. Few places without the grip of Galactic power about them were a more fitting venue to bare host to this assembly. Arriving and communing as one, the two distinct yet bound arms of the 'Apostate' rebellion which had erupted beneath the banner of the crimson saber split from their Congregation at Xo with an alliance formed between them, a vow to unseat the Darth Carnifex and undo the injustice to which the Sith-Empire had inflicted upon the two identities that the House Zambrano sought to unify in a perverted union.

While the Qotsisajakaar ventured to unknown space to their Temple Fortress World to consolidate themselves, the Imperial elements of the insurrection were summoned to the seat of the Empire Of The Hand. Within the ruins of a fortress masterminded by Admiral Thrawn himself, a New Order would emerge from the fires of insurrection.

As thousands of New Imperial Order troopers, droids and support staff were shuttled down to the surface from the newly Epitaph II and its supporting fleet to fully seize the planet and establish the apparatuses of the seat of the Order; the more instrumental figures in the Order's machination as well as satellite observers and allies to the conspiratorial uprising were summoned to the ruined fortress. Passing Imperial personnel as they went about restoring and surpassing the glory established by the fortress during its peak as the seat of an Imperial Remnant. Within what was once the throne room of the Emperor of The Hand, they gathered.

Spoiler: Tag List (PM to join)

Irveric Tavlar
Vaulkhar
Darth Bellum
Tyrell Paxxus
Imperial Warlord Zovesa
Dresden Odesza
Remus Kelbor
Tithon Antilles
Khyron Zharost
Zhani Amadine
Vella Forte
Beatrice Govan
Hans Vaiden
Marlon Sularen
Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt

 

[Vaulkhar]

A grinning mask, unmoving in its statuesque design, obscured the features of the Bastard of Panatha. It stood in silence, baleful orbs of burning crimson glaring down at the world of Nirauan as the shuttle descended to the planet's surface. Promises spoken behind closed doors echoed through his thoughts. The actions taken against the Sith Empire and its Dark Lord were irreversible, marking the poorly named Apostates as dissidents and traitors to a crumbling throne. Some would likely consider this the first step in their new order's grand design, but it was far from the beginning. Already, their forces made their presence known to whatever government laid claim to the planet. With the joint power of Irveric Tavlar and Kor Vexen's armies, and the provided war machines of Gat Tambor, there was little choice beyond surrendering to the budding military power. No more would the New Imperial Order lurk about in the dark. With the conquering of Nirauan, the final step in securing the basis of their power would finally be complete.

"My Lord," a gruff voice spoke out from behind the wound. It turned to face the waiting officer. "We shall arrive at the landing site, momentarily. Would you like me to notify the Sovereign we are en route to arrive?"

"Yes," a hollowed voice rumbled out from within the creature's unnatural body. Vaulkhar pivoted on a heel and strode towards the ship's ramp. While the presence of individuals like Ensign Davis kept things moving smoothly aboard the vessel, the undead beast found the noise following their arrival obtrusive. It was just another change the fallen Jedi would come to accept for the sake of bringing the Sith Empire to its knees. No one man could take on such a monumental task, no matter how powerful they were. The Zambrano Dynasty ensured with the fall of the craven Kaine Zambrano; another could rise and continue the flawed cycle. If Vaulkhar and its allies were to overcome the monolithic Sith Empire, it would be side by side, as more than pawns on the board. They would have to take over the game and dismantle their forces one piece at a time.

The lone body shifted as the ship settled, maintaining balance while awaiting the ramp to descend. When it finally lowered, the Executor strode down and turned to the towering fortress that once belonged to the great Thrawn. Imperial history had not been a favored subject of the enforcer, but the chiss was a legendary name even the unwashed masses of the galaxy would recognize. Thoughts of an era not unlike their own filled the mind of the living atrocity as it strode through the structure's threshold. Each man, woman, and creature in-between moved through the confines of the bastion with a precision more akin to clockwork than the movements of the living. It always impressed Vaulkhar to see the efficiency instilled into it's greatest ally. There likely wasn't another mortal man within the galaxy who commanded the respect of the common man as Irveric Tavlar did.

Each step brought Vaulkhar closer to the waiting Sovereign and gathered allies. Each step brought the beast closer to a destiny long-awaited.

Vaulkhar strode out from the corridor leading to the decided upon meeting place; it's form, wreathed in a ruinous cloak, appeared to glide across the chamber to Irveric Tavlar's side. The former Lord General stood stalwart as he peered out at those gathering before him. And as always, his Executor took up its place beside him, spite filled eyes watching every corner and shadow with the precision of a patient beast.

Irveric Tavlar​

 

[Marlon Sularen]

The New Imperial Order. What was formerly known as a small simple movement headed by the Legendary General Talvar had evolved into a rising power , the Apostate Rebellion had not only attracted Sith-Imperial Officers seeking to undo the Sith Regime of Darth Carnifex but Imperial Warlords lurking in the Core Worlds such as Marlon Sularen whom had refused to join up with the Sith Empire in the wake of the collapse of the Core Imperial Confederation disgusted at it's hierarchical structure and it's corrupt bureaucracy. When they had failed to stop the advance of the Republic and the Core Alliance along with the Resurrection of the Galactic Alliance they choose to join up with the nascent New Imperial Order.

Though not having met with the various figures of the New Imperial Order , Marlon was familiar to many leaders of the nascent New Imperial Order : Irveric Talvar the Legendary General of the Sith Empire , Kor Vexen the Supreme Commander of the Sith-Imperial Military and Gat Tambor a rising figure in the Capitalist Domain and one of the main Corporate Supporters of the New Imperial Order. Having assembled a mighty force , the Leaders of the New Imperial Order converged on Nirauan , home to the ancient Empire of the Hand and the Hand of Thrawn Fortress with their armies and armadas quickly converging on the planet and quickly taking over the planet establishing a firm grasp over Nirauan , the new Headquarters of the New Imperial Order.

Onboard his personal ship , the Vengeance Marlon Sularen sat in his Personal Quarters reflected on his past as Maracel Yorkell II and how he went from the would-be Duke of the Corellian Sector to a Rogue Warlord now moving to the New Imperial Order to start over. For what he knew there was only one factor to explain his failure , one factor only and that was the Jedi and the Sith. The Jedi Master Cedric Grayson had promised the Corellian Sector to Marlon only to betray him over an alliance with the nascent Republic , and the Jedi Alyson Halle had turned on him at Kuat when he tried to regain the support of Cedric by aiding the Grasyon Imperium. Marlon had then formed the Directorate only once more to having one of his early allies the Rogue Sith Lord Mythos abandon him and suddenly disappear and the Eriaduian Sith Lord Credius Nargath betraying him and causing a Schism in which led to the collapse of Marlon's movement.

If anything Marlon hated both Sith and Jedi and the New Imperial Order not only offered him a chance to start again but to also enact his own personal vengeance against those who had deceived him for the past 3 years , those who used him as a pawn in a chess board , those who had simply abandoned him as if he were nobody. Marlon had left everything behind for the New Imperial Order and as his ship traveled through Hyperspace on route for Nirauan , the Imperial Warlord hoped that he would be able to finally correct his errors of the past and finally get the proper Justice he deserved.

Soon the Vengeance would jump out of hyperspace arriving in orbit of Nirauan , soon an officer arrived to inform the Warlord of their arrival and Marlon left his Quarters officially beginning a new chapter in his life. Repeating the same routine he did as the former Chairman of the Directorate , Marlon entered his personal T-4b shuttle flanked by his Crimson Guards and was on his way towards his final destination , the Hand of Thrawn the ancient fortress known to be the bastion of the Ancient Chiss Grand Admiral Thrawn's Empire of the Hand and now the new headquarters of the New Imperial Order.

Soon his shuttle would land on a platform and the Rogue Warlord would step out flanked by his Crimson Guard , 8 in total. As he walked down the ramp of his shuttle Marlon gazed in amazement at the Hand of Thrawn , home to perhaps one of the greatest figures of ancient Imperial history , surprised that the structure was still standing after nearly a millennia untouched by outside powers despite it's proximity to the Sith Empire. As he entered Marlon and his Guards past through Imperial Personal who worked tirelessly to restore the ancient fortress while the Imperial Warlord made his way towards to throne room ready to met the Sovereign of this new Imperial Nation.

Tags : Irveric Tavlar | Vaulkhar |

 

[Hans Vaiden]

Truly, times were a-changin'.

Though not really. The cycle of Empires and their splintered warlords ever continued. From the age-old Sith Empires, the Galactic Empire, to the remnant and warlord factions that followed it. It was happening once again as it always did. Where those that were fed up with the rule of Force users banded together in one last bid for freedom of their oppression. It would be fine and dandy in their nascent, infant days - until they met a challenge that they could not handle, not even together.

"I don't even know why I return to these things," an exasperated chuckle at himself. "Answer me, Jar'varkh. Why do you think I do these things?"

The Noghri beside him remained unfazed, peering out at the motionless void of space. "Because you don't change. You rarely do."

"Is that so?"

"Yes, admiral." A cool, knife-edge voice responded. "Too stubborn."

Hans snorted.

-------
​

The Imperial-II class Star Destroyer Pestilence smoothly glided through the void, expunging a shuttle towards Niruaun. A relic from the past, though fitted with all of the latest and greatest that modern technology had to offer. What it lacked in offense and defense, it made up for it all in spades with its crew. Experienced and loyal crewmen and soldiers that had deserted the One Sith many years ago. Granted, the number of them had dwindled over the years from sedition and random departures, but the tight-knit crew had remained steadfast for the most part.

Men, women, and even some aliens. Wandering through the galaxy, resupplying wherever they could, and taking whatever they needed by force. The Noghri on Honoghr were quite impressed with them, especially when Hans had managed to convince them of all the good things that could come from helping them. Pay in some cases, whereas others simply wanted the chance to leave their husk of a homeworld and explore the stars.

Now they all convened here, to see what this New Imperial Order had in store. Only time would tell.

Vaulkhar | Marlon Sularen | Irveric Tavlar

 

[Remus Kelbor]

The meeting with the Lord General was still fresh in Remus' mind but for now he had been summoned to the world of Nirauan for a meeting with the leadership of the New Imperial Order; or at least that is what he assumed. Remus had continued on his projects and he had secured facilities that would be integral to the success of the New Dark Trooper project; but that was a project that would come in due time. The first generation of "Phase Zero" Dark Troopers had finally been handled and created. In due time the project would be revealed to the wider New Order and eventually, the New Order would come to utilize the project for a wide variety of roles. Remus smirked as he ascended to his shuttle. The progress on Phase II had begun and there was something he relished about the proposed goals of the project, the purpose of creating and building a lasting legacy within the New Imperial Order. An assembled array of pilots, officers and officials had met Remus in the hangar bay prior to his departure. They saluted him and he strode down the man made isle towards his shuttle.

Task Force Vengeance dropped out of hyperspace into realspace and after a series of checks and questions, the Major General's shuttle departed the Tyrant and ferried to the Epitaph II and finally down to the surface. Remus was informed by his cadre of staff that the world once belonged to the Empire of the Hand and the meeting spot had been the fortress of the legendary Grand Admiral Thrawn. It was fitting, the New Order had found its way again. It was no longer bastardized by the Sith Empire and corrupted by those who would display wanton destruction in the face of Imperial citizens. Remus had his uniform pressed and prepared for the meeting, he had a cadre of officers with him and his traditional squad of Novatroopers. Their black armor and golden-yellow stripes were a simple but remarkable standout among the white, the red and others who would be assembled.

Remus entered into the main assembly area but not before passing through checkpoints and having to display documents proving who he was. As Remus waited for assistant and adjutants to provide necessary documentations he slipped off his black leather gloves, his overcoat and handed it to awaiting service droids. Remus kept his own mind quiet to the machinations that would eventually play out within the New Imperial Order. Remus could scheme and plot, he had done it before but he preferred that his work be done differently and that would further revealed when he found his place within the New Imperial Order; whatever place that was. Make no mistake, Remus was loyal and respected the Lord General, but he was also interested to see where he landed himself.

No man can be without ambition, no man can be without a drive and desire to serve his Empire, but no man mistake when to follow and when to lead. Remus stood with his cadre of officers and his Novatroopers had found themselves at attention along a wall. As Remus found himself a position in the assembly area, he stood off-center from the dias in which the Sovereign and his surely appointed deputy, the man he knew as Vaulkhar, stood. Remus made eye contact with the Lord General and Remus nodded at him.

Irveric Tavlar

 

[Thaelius]

Didn't they ever learn? Thaelius Ordo ppondered the thought as his shuttpecraft reached the ground. The Admiral's weary eyes laid solely on the massive fortress which laid before him. Thrawn was a legend, more importantly to Thaelius he had been a mentor and a revered object of which his authority was dirived.

The New Imperial Order, how blatant? The idea of a new Empire, free of the influence of the current Sith hegemony. It was quite odd to imagine these men and women giving up their lives to abondon the clinicaly inclined.

Ha

Thaelius couldn't help but smirk as his shuttle hovered over the massive Imperial fotress. His blood red eyes seemed to pierce inside the artistic design. It was effective and yet, breathtaking.

"<This is High Admiral Thaelius requesting permission to land. General Tavlor should be expecting me>" he transmitted to the fortress's air control. He watched patiently as dozens, perhaps thousands of Imperial Soilders and officer mustered in and our of the palace. Interesting.

"<Permission Granted, High Admiral. Proceed to Dock 11 and enter along with our other guests>" the Air Control responded. With a swift dive, the shuttle landed and moments later, Thaelius himself and two of his signature Dark Troopers clad in Crimson Black Armor exited the craft and joined the congregation entering the building.

"Marcell?" His voice called out his entered the building. From that point he could see what vaguely appeared as the Chairman of the former Imperial Directorate. Times changed, as if seemed.

Marlon Sularen | @Irveric Tavlor | Vaulkhar | Hans Vaiden |

| Those Whom I missed |
​

 

[Imperial Warlord Zovesa]

---

// LOCATION // En Route To Nirauan // Hand Of Thrawn
// TIMELINE // Following the Congregation
// THEMATIC // LINK

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Aboard the Imperial Force Corps HQ Command Ship The Nobilissimus

---

Sat crossed-legged and stripped down to body hugging tank top and trousers made from the same reinforced fabrics as a stormtrooper’s black armorweave body suit, the Chiss commander of the New Imperial Order’s Force Corps, hung her head down and panted heavy sighs. The exhales that fell from her dark blue lips were slow, methodically delayed, and purposely elongated to drag the strain and stress out of her body. Her long black hair dangled over her face in a thick curtain.

Beads of perspiration wept from her brow and trickle down to her chin before plummeting onto dark durasteel tiles, leaving a pattern of speckled botches in gap between her folded legs. The Chiss took in a long final breath and held it for a moment. Her eyes still closed, she suppressed the air in her lungs, denying them egress. The pressure made her body tense and she used it to steel her body, brutalizing it into a disciplined calm. Centered, she pursed her lips and let the compressed breath slither out in a silent expulsion.

She opened her eyes, and crimson surrounding bright red irises beamed from between the gaps of her dark locks. The panting subsided into silent breathing and she raised her head, straightening her back and rolling back her shoulders to loom erect over the space around her. Head high she took in one last inspection of the carnage she had created around her. The short-circuited mechanical corpses of five combat training droids lay strewn about the training chamber’s floor.

Their chest chassis crushed with a singular precise saber wound accompanying the cavity created. Their deaths were atypical compared to the other lightsaber force forms present in the galaxy, not as merciful as the Jedi, nor violently unwieldy like the Sith. It was clean, devoid of emotion, and tactically motivated. The Chiss made note of the minute details of self-criticism in her brutal work and quietly chastised herself with her thoughts.

Pressing her palms against her unfolding knees, she stood up onto her feet. While she did so, a Prowler Droid hovered to her side and bleated a series of digitized audio notes. She turned her head and shook it slowly at the reconnaissance and subterfuge droid companion.

“No,” she said, “I will review the recording later Screech.”

“You may power down and rest.”

The droid bobbed in the air, mimicking a nod, and floated off to dock with its charging station tucked inside a cubicle at the far wall of the training chamber. Looking away, the Chiss walked to a cubicle beside the droid’s slumbering nook and retrieved her uniform. Folding it beneath her arm she exited the training chamber and made her way to the Xenodochium Ward, a hospice and recovery center. There she partook in a Bacta Tank bath.

In the Bacta bath, she removed her bronzium gilded cyberarm and detached the gold plating around the cybernetic gorget prosthetic that had replaced her organic throat and neck. Removed her cybernetic and bio-plant attachments, she once again returned the form of the mutilated remnant that she once was after her rebellion against the Sith Master that had enslaved her as his apprentice. Floating in the healing solution she felt the stumps of her missing arm and the concave unnatural bend of her throat. Permanent lamentations for her to meditate and reconcile with, lest she allowed them to brood hatred and infect her with the temptation of falling.

After the bath, she returned the armor that made her whole and donned her uniform. The broken Chiss rebel, transformed into High Knight Marshal Zovesa of the New Imperial Order’s Imperial Force Corps. Her tunic was adorned with golden accents and dark blue patterns. While a heavy coat draped over her shoulders. Exiting the hospice ward, Zovesa travelled to a repulsorlift elevator that carried higher into the upper bridges that straddled terraced central structure aboard the Imperial Force Corps headquarters command battlecruiser The Nobilissimus. The elevator delivered her to a tertiary bridge, below the combat-information-center bridge under the main astrogation and command bridge.

The tertiary bridge was a wide empty space, with a panoramic display wall that could be fed any video link feed from the cameras that kept their vigil on the open space around the battlecruiser. Stepping into the bridge, Zovesa’s presence activated the motion sensing light controls. The subroutines built into the bridge’s functions turned on the rows of lights in the ceiling, suddenly drenching the bridge in white lights and illuminating its grey and white durasteel walls and floors.

Crossing her arms against her chest, Zovesa spoke to the automated computer assistance personality that controlled the bridge.

“Astrogation telemetry,” Zovesa said, continuing, “Main Monitor, display.”

The central, of the three sections of the panoramic monitor, blinked from darkness and projected the image of a stylized map showing the progress of the battlecruiser on its hyperspace jump to Nirauan. Zovesa’s red eyes narrowed as the focused on the astrogation data projecting estimated time of arrival and sublight exit location. During her internal calculations, the actuators of the bridge’s doors hissed the announcement of a new person entering. Zovesa turned around to find a Miraluka dressed in a white robe and veil over a white Imperial tunic. His dress was a contradicting combination of Imperial austere uniform and the religious garb of someone from the ancient remnants of the Guardian of the Whills. The Miraluka approached Zovesa with a soft smile.

“You’ve been training again I see,” he said.

Zovesa replied, “Do not Empathomance me, Arch Asklepior. What is it?”

The Force Scientist and Chief Doctor, or Arch Asklepior of the Imperial Force Corps, tapped the metallic visor that covered his eyeless sockets.

“I can never turn it off High Knight Marshal, such is the nature of my species,” Dr. Saav Kalassa apologized.

Zovesa blinked her gaze away. Dr. Kalassa was a powerful empath and healer, he could see the minute and intricate vibrations of the Force in a person. None could hide their nature from him. An ounce of darkness, a solace of deviation from balanced discipline in the Force, and he could see it. Such was the reason why he was the Arch Asklepior. Sometimes known as the Judex, as it was his judgement that condemned a Force User as Crestfallen – irredeemable from the Darkside, or A Hopeful – one that could be rehabilitated to balance. It was he who helped bring Zovesa back from the brink of ruin after she rebelled against her Sith overlord, brought her mind and body back from that abyssal depths of uncontrolled chaos.

“I came here because the Head Nurse Healer spoke to me about your time in the Bacta,” Dr. Kalassa began again.

“And?” said Zovesa.

“She informed me you have been pushing yourself too hard again,” said Dr. Kalassa.

Zovesa slowly turned her head to the side to flash a red shot of her eyes.

“You’re still overcompensating for your past, High Knight Marshal,” said Dr. Kalassa, going on, “There is a such a thing as over treating. Fixate on this Darkness that once gripped you and you will plunge right back into it.”

Zovesa scoffed, “I thank you for your concern, Kalassa.”

A claxon shrieked, interrupting the tense silence that stat between the Arch Asklepior and the High Knight Marshal. Zovesa commanded the monitor to shut down and spun on her heel to march past Dr. Kalassa. She did not stop or pause to acknowledge him, showing her irritation at his begrudgingly astute analysis.

“We are exiting hyperspace; I suggest your return to the Xenodochium. Doctor,” Zovesa threatened.

“Aye, High Knight Marshal,” replied Dr. Kalassa.

Reaching the main command bridge, Zovesa entered just as the blue maelstrom of hyperspace snapped away for the oncoming black void of realspace and the blooming ochre and blue sphere of Nirauan. An astrogation officer greeted her and reported their arrival. Zovesa relayed commands to contact Irveric Tavlar and the planetary command at refurbished fortress, Hand of Thrawn. Leaving them to their tasks, she took a final elevator ride down into the bowels of the Nobilissimus and one of her hangars. A protocol droid accommodated her approach to one of the shuttles.

“Call the other Knights,” she said, “We are touching down to meet with the Sovereign Imperator.”



[ Khyron Zharost ]

 

[Irveric Tavlar]

Kintan...
Some Time Ago...
Thematic

"They're calling a retreat...we took the city, pounded it into dust and they're calling a retreat..." The gruff Sith Imperial officer sounded out, ripping the helmet draped in 'Enigma' pattern camouflage from his head in disbelief, throwing it into the mud below before he suddenly snapped to attention as the repulsor lifts of a Claymore II hissed down infront of the entrenched position. The stench of death and the sight of bodies littered the landscape. Camouflaged bodies of 'Deathshead' Squadron blended into the earth as the stark red armor of the slain legionnaires belonging to Darth Voyance laid slain at their flanks all with Jedi knights and Silver Jedi militia among the corpses.

Thousands of lives brimming with potential all ended on a single, fateful day. From this it seemed nothing would occur. Climbing from the commander's hatch of the repulsor tank, the Major General crawled out from the hatch, donning a panoply of war no different than his subordinates save for his stone grey officer grey beneath the armor plates showing his station in higher command in contrast to the camouflaged armor weave donning his army beneath. Leaning the freshly bandaged stub of his left arm over the cupola as he gave a brief appraisal of what was left of his artillery line. The batteries had long stopped to make way for a cold and deafening silence broken only by a growing ashy downpour and the occasional crack of blaster and flechette. Peering over their commander in disbelief the soldiers left in the trench offered a nod or stand at attention toward the armored, visored visage of their General.

Nodding once in return to put them at ease he sucked in a deep breath as he peered over the shattered remnants of his force. A gruesome sight in isolation only tugged between the years of experience Tavlar had commanding troops and the attachment he had to the men and women under his command. It was his responsibility to get them through this, alive if it was nothing else. They'd fought hard and driven the Silver Jedi back and yet even still the Sith fronts crumbled everywhere else, leaving Tavlar's army with no option but to retreat.

"I can't tell you any reassurances- I can't look you in the eye and tell you what we did here means anything...all I can say is- I'm proud of all of you...you fought hard. Look to the men and women at your flanks, you kept them alive and that's all I can ask of you. We might've lost the day but...we're all the more closer to getting you all home. Pack up whatever ordinance and munitions you can - we're overextended we may need it to cover our retreat but above all get the wounded and get to the evac point. Move." In spite of a brush with death at the hands of the Jedi Knight Lanik Dawnstar , Tavlar kept his composure through the rage of battle.

Seeing it through. Unknowingly to any of them, it was Kintan which served the true catalyst for this revolt. The trust in the Emperor and his Dark Council all but eroded as their combined presence still meant wasted time and wasted lives in defeat, the retreating Sith Imperial legions of Tavlar and Darth Bellum leaving nothing but misery in their wake.

---

Present Day...

Irveric had never asked for this. Born to farmers on Dantooine only to jump ship to work a simple life as a technician on Ord Thoden before the One Sith conscripted him did not make way for his true fate. Though in this Galaxy the weavers of destiny rarely emerged from suspecting backgrounds. Such was as much the case for the man of agrarian origins forced to take up arms and transform into one of the Sith Empire's most stalwart battleminds it was intune with a great many of this Order's origins.

Few among them were ever regarded in high esteem in their prior station. Each and every of them clawed and climbed their way from the pits of anguish into self determination. It was this very nature that bound them all into this cause. Between them they had accepted the risk and scope of this undertaking, this great defiance. It was as much a crusade of morality as it was a crusade of identity, to free the Galaxy from the butchers host of Zambrano and restore the very Imperial itself from its state clouded and malformed by Sith machination.

Tavlar had been a leader of men for the near entirety of his adult life and even so, he never expected to be at the very tip of the spear in defiance of the Sith Empire. Even so, he would not back down from this chance at swaying destiny, altering fate. Even if it mean't the death of him he would not go quietly.

Many faces were familiar among the ranks who coalesced and even still more had flocked to the call beyond his contact. Only ever having to lead in the face of battle, he now had to face the music of not soldiers under his command nor the Sith in their entirety with near suicidal brazenness. He now had to sow the bonds of defiance between them all. Standing before the lot of them, with only his closest retinue at his side, Tavlar donned the rainment of his newly re-formed Legion. Inoculating what little remnants of nerves his being could muster he spoke before the Order.

"I should figure well enough by now that all of you know the consequences of your being here. They shouldn't matter in the face of what we seek to do...the Sith Empire is a rotten and evil machination of manipulation under the Eye of Soloman. Beneath it our identity...has been destroyed. The Imperial, the very vessel to which the Galaxy has ever sustained peace and order and it has been wasted away. Today- I ask of you all as brothers and sisters all, to declare your defiance against the Sith Empire and vow to not only create but preserve a New Imperial Order. We can not merely carry out our will by means of insurrection. Here, a new government must be established from which we can reclaim our identity from the Sith. At the head of this New Imperial Order - I shall serve as its Sovereign Imperator until Kaine Zambrano is usurped from his throne and his Empire destroyed." Irveric declares with forthright conviction. Not only did he will himself ruler of the government he immediately established but in the same breath vowed the death of the very Dark Lord Of The Sith.

"All the same, I declare Vaulkhar Zambrano my Executor - the vessel by which the will of the Order itself be executed and the Admiral Tyrell Paxxus the Grand Vizier and legislate of our New Order. This will be the vessel from which we reclaim our birthright which has been despoiled. By your being here we bind our selves to a greater purpose. We shall be the instrument of order and security to this galaxy all the same we shall purge the evil brought upon by the Sith. In the same breath this New Imperial Order be forged, we declare war on the Sith Empire with our sole aim of breaking this horrid machine outright." Tavlar declares.

---

Vaulkhar | Darth Bellum | Tyrell Paxxus | Imperial Warlord Zovesa | Kenth Tavlar | Remus Kelbor | Tithon Antilles | Hans Vaiden | Marlon Sularen | Thaelius

 

[Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt]

Keeping track of the collective orders and the revision of access codes over the month long course had grown into a tedious process. They had received their mission and escort tasks and all cockiness had vanished from her command. There was no man unwilling present, but when it was a red saber tossed between the hands of your executioner, the reality of the dissension made for a difficult rally point amongst the crew.

In the beginning Lyra had approached Genesis first, her men alone in their lonely hangar; face washed white. She had considered giving them a choice, but reason outweighed sentiment and her hand itched for her fletchette as the confusion took hold. When she had finished reciting the orders left to her, by some grace there had been no hesitation in the ranks.

“How are we going to pull this off?” her Captain had pulled her aside after, protocol be damned.

She had lied to the woman’s face with the utmost confidence dripping from her words. After that it had been an easier transition amongst the throes of work, it was idle minds one had to worry about. Grab what you can and run for the hills had been the common mentality.

The former Colonel had haunted the bridge of the commandeered ‘Talon’ leading communications, unwavering as they collected the mismanage of forces fleeing. Hiding under the cover of asteroid fields, enduring the resounding silence aboard the galleon. The rangers had little difficulty with the task but melding crews caused fissures that needed swift answering. There were no impassioned speeches to offer them to produce results. Imminent death was motivation in itself. Her wrath maintained order, her hand a cold thing now, patient and wielding one truth; if they tore themselves apart now were they any better then their former sire?

She had been busily teetering the edge of the knife when the hand dropped and they were sent scrambling. Lyra may have even considered celebrating the coming change under different circumstances. The internal turmoil the crew suffered was the very same she had but Lyra did not offer them any sign of it. The woman was simply too tired to be angry anymore, to wither in fear. Even in the face of the whispers, what were they doing? It was the most loathed of questions she was forced to answer again and again.

In the end the bridge team had weathered the influx of crew and deployment well enough but Lyra had seen the bruising grow under each officer’s eyes; could sniff out their doubts.

From the helm to the lowest bowels of the ship, the galleon had been beginning to reek of fear before they were recalled. When her comms had lit up, the diversion to Nirauan was the beacon they had needed and it wasn’t long before they dropped out of hyperspace above the planet. Temperate and inviting, the ship released a collective sigh as they prepared for descent. Describing it as friendly airspace might still yet be a stretch, this new order and their upcoming command aside from the respected General Tavlar was a better mystery. She had heard about the infamous history attached to the planet and Lyra wondered yet if it was too bold a statement.

Aftering skimming along the fringes of space into the convoluted planetside traffic, the woman considered the timing of the summons. The nature of the missive direct and Lyra had to accept it at face value; orders were orders. Even if she didn't want to weigh in, or at the very least witness in on the future. Her ambition had gone crawling back to it’s little hole. Calling for her personal ship for a faster bypass, the ‘Talon’ wasn’t her’s in truth to command in the long term and she left it to the bridge after the drop.

It was time for the hodge podge of a crew to meld back into the fold and recycle. Rebellion was no cause for lack of punctuality and she boarded the star sloop with six troopers at her back. They were a grey storm detailed with a single white eye on their pauldrons. These men were some of what was left of her finest shots left in the Rangers.

The flight was quick and and the trek from the landing strip a better part blurr, flanked by the members of Genesis they entered the ruined fortress with a perfected cadence of boot fall. The task force set upon the ruins were out in droves, and it was a reassuring sight; almost echoing a normalcy she associated with the 12th. She had referenced her time piece and doubled her pace, arriving before the great hall. Lyra had considered the numbers of the gathering forthright and favored a spot aside toward the back of the assembly. Her arms crossed a certain grimness settling upon her features; listening-waiting. It was rather difficult to overlook Tavlar, atop the dais. The hall quiet if only for a beat until he commanded the room, dour and resolute his vision daunting.

---

Irveric Tavlar

 

[Thaelius]

"Yes. This New Imperial Order may be the only way to openly defy Carnifex and his Sith Empire. The defats of the Sith Lord's echo throughout history. The collapse of the One Sith was marked by infighting and according to my intelligence, divisions are beginning to form within the current Sith dynasty. 10,000,000,000 lives are at stake. Soon, a bastion of order embodied by conquering will be the embodiment of anarchy."

When Thaelius said that, his eyes drifted to the new Sovereign Imperator. "As you know, I am the last surviving Lord Admiral of the One Sith. As such, I still retain my fleet and have amassed a small army of stormtroopers. Per my understanding, if we all consolidate our forces we will be able to wage war on the Empire, effectively obliterating them while they obliterate themselves."

Marlon Sularen | Vaulkhar | Irveric Tavlar | Those Whom I Missed

 

[Darth Bellum]

'' Chaos is the law of nature, while order is the dream of man ''

[ Theme ]
​

K O R _ V E X E N

| Location | Nirauan​

| Purpose | Instigate Conflict​

​

The time for peace and inaction was at an end. The Sith Empire had betrayed their identities in the eyes of the former Dark Councilor, and thus betrayed his very purpose for fighting for them. With the Empire having seen fit to attempt to replace his authority within the military, it was the final nail in the coffin; they had made a grave error in making Vexen their enemy. Now he would fight them, tear them apart as he had helped to build them up, until no two bricks would be left together. On this day, Vexen declared to the Galaxy that he would break from the Empire.​

​

A shuttle would arrive on the surface of Nirauan, once more another meeting called amongst those who dared defy the will of the Sith Empire. Many among them were Imperials, discontent with how the Sith Empire treated them as if they were mere cannon fodder under their god complexes , while those among the Sith, like Vexen defied the Empire simply on principle. Regardless of why they were here, the end result was the same; the Sith Empire failed and a new power must rise to combat its erroneous ways.​

​

As the shuttle touched down onto a landing pad, the ramp would lower, a hiss heard and a blanket of steam flooding out, followed by the sound of heavy metallic footsteps. The armored visage of Vexen would appear, flanked by a quartet of his Dragoons - his loyal soldiers that had accompanied him to every major battle he had participated in at the forefront of the Sith Empire's wars. While Vexen no longer commanded the authority of one of the largest armies in the Galaxy, his command over those loyal to him would suffice.​

​

Vexen would arrive at the gathering hall as Tavlar gave his speech, standing in silence as the man spoke of taking the first official seat of power for the gathered dissidents. He had no issue with such a declaration; Tavlar was competent and was favored amongst the Imperials so he was the ideal candidate for such a position. He also had no need to speak up about his agreement with the formation of a new order; his support as the former military commander of all the Sith Empire's armies was already a vote of confidence for many. Vexen held no desire for such a position, merely the opportunity to stoke the flames of conflict with those who would go to hell and back fighting beside him.​

 

[Tithon Antilles]

Tithon sat quietly among the group, legs crossed as they spoke of a Zambrano to become the Executor against a throne his father sat upon. To Antilles, it reeked of manipulation, a vessel to tear his father from the throne to implant himself - or to see it burn solely on a touch of childhood neglect. His jaw clenched as he watched the twice-born sith, likely to be one of Irveric’s greatest mistakes; but who was he to call it now?​

​

Not in front of everyone, at the very least. Even with guards about, calling a Sith out in front of them rarely ended in more than a lightsaber to the stomach - he had seen enough of that in the Empire already.​

​

Tyrell’s appointment was less taxing on Tithon, a reasonable choice - even if Tithon didn’t know much about the man. He had heard enough to know him level headed; relatively so in comparison to the Sith at least. Still, while others may have clapped, Tithon did not - he simply let his hands rest on the dark gray pants of his uniform - and his eyes glance between those present.​

​

The only one that truly vexed him in the moment was the 'Last Remaining One Sith Admiral'. A bold claim to make, considering who was present - but he wouldn't burn him to the ground himself. The man's words were poorly made, a lackluster suckle at the Sovregeins tit - and only cracked what fragile confidence Antilles had in this rebellion.​

​

Vaulkhar | Darth Bellum | Tyrell Paxxus | Imperial Warlord Zovesa | Kenth Tavlar | Remus Kelbor | Irveric Tavlar | Hans Vaiden | Marlon Sularen | Thaelius​

 

[Hans Vaiden]

His arrival was perfectly on time. Smooth steps sent he and Sigmund silently gliding into the room, filling one of the last remaining seats before the Sovereign's voice rose. From that reverberating voice came promises of freedom and glory, all of it stemming from the death of one man: Kaine Zambrano. Hans sat quietly, reminiscing on old times. They were far simpler and easier back in the day, far from the moral ambiguities and questionable Sith actions that occurred these days.

The One Sith were, all in all, one of the greatest institutions he'd ever served with. Though it was primarily due to the Dark Lord's machinations. The mysterious man was someone not even he had laid eyes upon. This new, resurgent Empire paled in comparison in both military achievements and hardiness of the state itself. Yet toppling this government would be even harder.

A single voice stuck out to him. The last so-called 'Lord Admiral' of the One Sith. A man that Hans had never met, nor even heard of.

His deep, rumbling laughter filled the room. "You are far from the last though your name has never touched my ears. But perhaps you've heard of me?

"You know, the young Commodore in Black Sword Command that already tried to coup a government once? I am Hans Vaiden, formerly a captain though now I've taken a liking to being called admiral. I have only but my mind and the some thirty thousand souls that crew the Pestilence to offer. I do hope that you all will accept my fealty."

Tithon Antilles | Darth Bellum | Marlon Sularen | Thaelius | Irveric Tavlar | Remus Kelbor | Tyrell Paxxus | Imperial Warlord Zovesa

 

[Thaelius]

"Perhaps I should correct myself. I am High Admiral Thaelius, former Lord Admiral of the One Sith Core Fleet. I am, to my knowledge, the last Admiral to have survived the Core Imperial Confederation and the High Republic. Lord Admiral Nox and his so trusted Sith Knights are dead. His once mighty fleet and advanced Battlecruiser lay in ruin over Byss. Admiral Vaiden, I do know you"

He paused. He did know the young Commodore. He was arrogant, and brutal. The perfect commander, if groomed correctly. "I would be correct in calling you a Rear Admiral, yes? Well, Admiral Vaiden, I remember you attempted to seize control of Byss. That planet, is truly a curse to Imperial powers. The Core Imperial Confederation couldn't control it. The One Sith couldn't control it and now, the so called High Republic control it."

"Sovereign Imperator, I can offer a fleet of Imperial II Class Star Destoyer's, 5 Resrugent Class Battlecruisers and accompanying escorts and support ships. My army however, is less than adequate but quite brutal might I add. I have a total of 25,450 soilders available."

He turned slightly. The tall High Admiral red eyes stared directly at Hans Vaiden . "Admiral Vaiden, it would be an honor if you agreed to join my fleet as it's executive officer. I've lacked one for so long and your charisma may inspire my captains. It would give you a chance to...legitimize your rank"

Direct Tags: Hans Vaiden | Irveric Tavlar I
Indirect Tags: Darth Bellum | Imperial Warlord Zovesa | Vaulkhar | Marlon Sularen | Those Other Imperials, per usual

 

[Tithon Antilles]

Tithon had heard plenty enough already, and rose his voice just enough to startle those that heard it -​

​

"Enough!", he challenged Ordo as he glanced to him, then his voice fell to a low growl once again.​

​

"Nobody here knows who you or Admiral Nox are. Nobody needs your supercilious attitude, Admiral, nor undermining Hans asking him to serve under you. Earn some respect, and we will consider it.", he offered once more before turning away.​

​

"Now, before Admiral Ordo threatens to make me his Vice Admiral, lets keep this moving."​

​

Thaelius │ Hans Vaiden │ Irveric Tavlar │ Darth Bellum │ Imperial Warlord Zovesa │ Vaulkhar │ Marlon Sularen​

 

[Ravraa Vyshraal]

Location: Nirauan
Task: Guard Duty
Faction: New Imperial Order
---

He would be there at the beginning, and rightfully so.

The sight of the old Imperial Hand capital was one to behold, however derelict and abandoned it was. The world bore the scars of conflict and industry, of war and growth, you could see the barren and forgotten factories and fortresses as you shuttled down. TIEs, ancient models, long forgotten were scattered across the planet like a random throw of dice. The Second Imperial Civil War still hung onto the world like a ghost, one that was not intent to leave it's haunt anytime soon. However, the world had proved to have a purpose, one that the people of the Galaxy came back to time and time again. Rebuilding. When the bonds that held together the previous Imperial state would falter, Nirauan, time and time again, became the place where the citizens of the galaxy would sign their name their name to treason and make oaths of insurrection. It was no different this time, and it shall be no different the next. He wondered if those gathered in the Throne Room realized this, if they were fully understanding that they were engaging in the cyclical pattern that would see the grandest of realms fall. The Old Sith Empire was a force untouched by the spirit of liberty, or should that fail to be the correct word, simple rebellion. They had their fair share of uprisings, of course, any totalitarian state would, but they were claimants of an unbroken bond. The New Sith Empire liked to forget that they may claim that legacy, but the blood dried some time ago. The ink had run stale and now the quill simply dragged against the paper to spite the ears of the author. The Galactic Empire changed the Galaxy and how the concepts of statecraft and nationalism were handled, and just as it was held accountable by the spirit of Thrawn and the Hand, so would the Sith Empire. The masquerade was failing, and now with the rising of the Grey and White, there was a chance to collapse the entire damned theater.

The arrival to the grand fortress was simple, Ravraa was brought down with the rest of the plethora of troopers via gunships and shuttles and disembarked at roughly every entrance that the fortress had available. They expected some form of resistance from whatever residents had taken up shop during the abandonment, however, instead of swoop gangs or some criminal syndicate, the worst that they came across was a pack of squatters without proper homes. Blaster bolts fired into the air and shouts of Basic would send them on their way, scrambling away before the people that mattered would show up. The New Imperial Order was still in it's infancy, in comparison to the other factions that ruled the Galaxy, and that stood out most of all inside of it's military. For a private such as Ravraa, the sight of a kama or any form of rank marking drew curiosity. Either the individual gave outstanding service for the Sovereign Imperator or they held some service in a foreign army, sometimes both. This wasn't anything that Ravraa had grounding to properly judge, this was hardly his fight to begin with. He was a volunteer from Kiros, he fought simply to fight, he fought to have the right to level an Imperial Sith in his blaster sights, he fought to break Theocratic Imperialism, however round about he had to go in his service to a dictator.

Once the fortress was properly secured, the brass arrived, and people in outfits that were more expensive than his entire paycheck began to waltz in, Ravraa was given a simple task with another trooper. They were to stand outside of the throne room, plain and simple, and assure that no-one enter that shouldn't. This was a boring task, of course, and the stormtrooper captain that gave them the quest seemed to be more interested in handing out busy work to the concerning amount of men that they had brought with instead of finding purposeful things for them to do. So, with a trooper he didn't know, Ravraa stood at attention next to the entrance to the throne room, his partner on the otherside of the door.

Moments passed before a voice broke the silence through the helmet's vocoder.

"What's your name?" The other trooper would say, trying to make convseration.

"Ravraa. You?"

"Gorbar! Nice to meet you. You one of those Togrutas, aren't you?"

"That obvious?" Ravraa joked as he reached up and tapped the section of his helmet forged around his montrals.

"Only entirely. Didn't expect many aliens to sign up for the corps. Respect it though."

"Ever been to Shili?"

"Once, on business, wonderful food you have there!"

Ravraa laughed in response before silence overtook the two again.

 

[Vaulkhar]

Vaulkhar listened to Tavlar speak, never taking his eyes off of those gathered. The fallen Jedi could not recognize those gathered for the life of him, though it was not by their own merits. His position within the Sith Empire's hierarchy was not one of fame or fortune, nor did it provide him an opportunity to walk among the masses. The title of Emperor's Wrath earned him a life of solitude. Information fed to him by the Dark Lord came only when necessary, providing him with a target, habits, and frequented locations. It made keeping up with the state of the galaxy and its many players nigh-impossible. Up until his death, anyway. Once Vaulkhar's soul escaped primal chaos, torn out and forced back into a broken body, his oath to the throne came to an end. No longer could he be trusted, given his assassination attempt on Kaine Zambrano.

Ignorance provided an excuse for his lack of knowledge, but it did not shield him from the grating discussion at hand. The Sovereign's words carried more than a voice of dissent. It brought to light a goal long hidden in the shadows of the Sith regime. Yet, name and rank rose to prominence in the place of something far more critical. Rage burned within him, not by choice, but instead by the design of his father. The bastard fought each day to quell his anger and strive to build on what he once was, an honorable man who looked to do better by the galaxy. While those days were long behind him, a far more attainable purpose sat just beyond his grasp.

"Indeed," Vaulkhar's hollowed tone echoed out from behind his mask, following Tithon's assessment. The Sovereign's Executor stepped forward. "We stand at the precipice of something far greater than what a single name can accomplish. Titles and names are meaningless when you conceptualize the truth of our actions. By coming here, each of us has made our stance against the Sith Empire known. They are a weak and dying bunch, ravenous in their lust for power, fat, lazy, and inept at establishing a proper rule—choosing genocide to quell the masses in favor of a more pragmatic solution. Those who fall back on a permanent solution to a temporary problem are not sound of mind or capable leaders," his tone bordered on apathetic, his form mirroring the manner in which he spoke.

"Those of you who can muster common sense know those who rule through their control over the force, rather than wit or wisdom are not fit to rule. The Sith Brotherhood and Jedi Order alike would have you all convinced they are all-powerful when that is far from the truth. The number of force users are outnumbered by those who are not. Each Sith Lord and Jedi Master need you more than any of you need them. And it is time we show them that simple truth," Vaulkhar turned on his heel and stepped up before Irveric Tavlar. The fallen Jedi's gauntleted hand retrieved the lightsaber hilt hanging from his belt and held it out to the Sovereign.

"Upon my blade, I swear you, the Sovereign-Imperator, and you all, the people of our Empire, an oath," Vaulkhar Zambrano began, turning to face the crowd before dropping to a knee. "An oath of loyalty, not to the force, nor myself. I swear an oath that will see me standing beside every single one of you in service to the New Imperial Order. I will take up my blade to bring a swift and merciful death to our foes in hopes of establishing law to an anarchic galaxy. Those who are fit to rule will establish themselves. Peace will be created, not through the practice of a Sith or Jedi, but the cunning of the Imperial mind."

Slowly, Vaulhar lowered his head, allowing it to hang.

"I welcome any of you who question my word to step forward and put an end to my life. If I am not trusted by the people I seek to serve, I am unfit to stand beside Irveric Tavlar in leading our people."

Irveric Tavlar | Tyrell Paxxus | Imperial Warlord Zovesa | Remus Kelbor
Marlon Sularen | Tithon Antilles | Hans Vaiden | Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt | Thaelius ​

 

[Tyrell Paxxus]

Space, hours earlier.

Nirauan.

From the glasteel viewport of the command bridge, the former capital of the Empire of the Hand looked almost serene beneath the vermillion light cast over it by its sun. Admiral Paxxus stood with both of his hands clasped behind his back, unassisted by the aid of his cane that rested against the wall beneath the viewport. It had been far too long since he stood in command of anything, let alone a ship. He now stood as an admiral once again, gray uniform with hoth-white detailing visually reinforcing his reclaimed status among his fellow imperials. Externally Tyrell appeared just as somber as ever, but internally his heart was aflame with new purpose.

This was no longer about serving a despotic emperor and his cruel machinations. This was about the imperial identity, and razing the oppressive power that denied that identity its merit for so long. Living in fear was no way to live, nor was serving the Sith. The Sith had taken everything from Tyrell, his position, his livelihood, even his family, but Tyrell was far too disciplined to be motivated by revenge. Personal revenge was a poor motivation for a man in his position. This wasn't just some rag-tag insurrection, this was a new order. A desire for revenge would only get in the way.

Nirauan grew larger as the ship approached at sublight speeds. It was odd to think that this arboreal rock would be the heart of this new order. It was not a visual marvel the likes of Coruscant or Bastion, but Tyrell trusted Tavlar's judgment. The Grand Admiral of many centuries ago who originally founded the Empire of the Hand on this very rock, Thrawn, was still spoken of to this day. Repurposing the dilapidated capital for the New Order wasn't just a statement of the New Order's intentions, but a bold move of power. Everyone in The New Imperial Order knew that above all else The Sith Empire was their primary enemy, and there was no better way to show them how unafraid the order was than to occupy space so close to their own.

---

Present time

The throne room of the Empire of the Hand was a place Tyrell had heard and read about many times, but he'd never expected to set foot in it himself. Tyell could almost feel the history here, it was an odd and heavy sensation that weighed upon that peculiar, extraordinary sense he had grown to despise so much. He'd never been one to put any stake in things that weren't tangible, but his own burden was the same from which the Sith oppressed his fellow imperials. 'The Force' was little more to Tyrell than a stain on existence that he was unfortunate enough to have a connection to. He walked calmly, his cane tapping upon the metallic floor with every other step he took towards the center of the throne room to position himself with the rest of those that had gathered.

Before Tavlar began to speak, he could feel what was coming. He knew he was in the running for some kind of position, but that sense once again crept forward and spoiled the reveal in the back of his mind. Tyrell took a quiet deep breath as the Sovereign-Imperator began to speak. Grand Vizier was beyond what he had expected, but it was a position he felt honored to be granted. The fire within him grew even stronger as the importance of this new purpose he felt was even further reinforced by a title that solidified his role.

Tyrell rested his cane against a dilapidated piece of interior architecture and stood up straight, clasping his hands together in front of himself, all to stand in a far more dignified and powerful manner. The cane was an indignity he had long despised, and he would stomach the pain and cast it aside for this moment, and not allow the walking-aid to spoil it. He took a step forward, unassisted, stomaching the sharp pain in his leg and hip with no outward or otherwise visible sign of discomfort. "Thank you, Antilles." He spoke shortly after Tithon had made an effort to cease the 'bickering' of the others.

Before he could speak, Vaulkhar Zambrano did so ahead of him. Tyrell had been ignoring the feelings that emanated off of the Zambrano since he got here. The masked mans 'presence' was unlike the many Sith that Tyrell had the displeasure of meeting during his career. It was a foreign, indescribable void that pulled on every negative emotion Tyrell had as if attempting to bring them to the surface. It had been taking a great deal of effort to ignore it, and an even greater deal of effort not to telegraph his struggle through body language. Despite Vaulkhar's unsettling nature, Tyrell found his words and subsequent oath to be admirable. It was odd to feel any air of respect for a Zambrano, at least conceptually, but it was clear that Vaulkhar was far different from those who shared his family name.

"Yes," he added, taking another step forward. "The tyranny of the Sith and all those who use their unnatural cosmic advantages to seize power is reaching an end. Every empire, every republic, every nation has been built on upon foundations comprised of the actions of people like us. Without us, the Sith are nothing. The Jedi are nothing. In their lust for power, they have taken something from all of us, whether it be by denying us our merits and treating us like mere cogs in the machine, or by striking us somewhere much more personal. With our combined efforts, we will bring their repugnant lechery of vices and depraved power-lust to and end."

Tyrell looked down at Vaulkhar Zambrano as he took a knee before everyone. "I too, swear to serve you all loyalty as your appointed Grand Vizier. I will not treat you all like subservient slime as our former malevolent overseers once did. Titles and authority aside we are all in this together as a New Order. I will not fail you by falling victim to the hubris and power-facilitated decadence that led The Sith Empire and its leaders to become stagnant barbarous fools. The future of the Imperial identity, our future, the future of our children and our children's children begins now." The Grand Vizier maintained the same calm and collected attitude and diction even as he spoke of things he felt so strongly about. The urge to yell, scream his declaration and send it reverberating off the walls of this once pristine throne room was ever clawing that the back of his mind, but it found no quarter.

"Unlike the Executor, I will not be so bold as to offer my life as forfeit to those who disagree with my appointment. However, should I ever fail our movement, should I ever lose sight of our goal, or should another with my passion for this order and the means to surpass my performance arises, if I do not step down..." The Grand Vizier paused for a moment and looked around at everyone in the throne room. "In that instance, I implore you to show no hesitation in deposing me. Long gone are the days of fraternizing and playing arbitrary political games to claim your position. The leadership of this New Order will be based on merit, achievement, and suitability. It is only inevitable that one day my time in this position will be up and someone will depose me. It may very well happen to all of us, but it ensures our success and our victory."

Irveric Tavlar | Vaulkhar | Darth Bellum | Imperial Warlord Zovesa | Ravraa Vyshraal | Thaelius | Tithon Antilles | Hans Vaiden | Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt | Remus Kelbor | Marlon Sularen ​

 

[Remus Kelbor]

Remus listened with open ears to the conversations taking place from the dais as well as those that were playing out around him. The cadre of officers and officials within the room had doubled, some of them he knew, others he did not. Remus had formed his own cadre around him, mostly officers from the 23rd and Task Force Vengeance which had been assigned to him. He admired Irveric Tavlar and his place as the Sovereign was rightly gained. The SIth Empire had overstepped, they even failed to follow their own teachings, from what Remus did know about the Sith and the Sith Code. The New Imperial Order had also gained a valuable military leader in Darth Bellum with whom Remus was not personally familiar with but knew of his exploits as the head of the Sith Military Pyramid and understood that one did not rise to such a post without some significant something. In due time Remus would become familiar with all within the Empire, be it for good reasons or traitorous reasons, Remus would come to know them all. He observed the others, the one that was named Executor Vaulkhar he, like Kor Vexen, was unknown to Remus except for the information that Remus had carried over from his service to the Sith Empire.

Remus had his own issues with the Sith, he had his own qualms with how it was managed and run but the New Imperial Order promised so much more for him. It was a partial ambitious, selfish grab at power but it was mostly in service to the Empire and its citizens. He learned a few things being a soldier, politicians and and the Sith didn't give a shit about him. You know who cared? The men and women across the battlefields of the Empire that he saved. The men and women across countless worlds that never knew war or famine because he stood steadfast on the front lines facing enemies of different species and philosophies. That is where he found his merits, his metals and his desire to serve. Remus made no mistake that self righteous zealotry only got you so far, the rest had to be drive and ambition to achieve what your self-righteous zealotry had ordained.

The newcomers to the faction, the so called "Last Admiral" and his merry band of men had obviously invoked some tense feelings that only soured lovers could feel. Remus nodded his head to several officers within the room and Imperial officers who were standing nearby and they closed the gap to overhear what was being said; they belonged to Remus' Security units and he used them effectively. His nod was subtle but his men were prepared to look for his motion. Remus had really embraced his role as whatever he was or whatever he would become. It was clear that they had issues between them, the One Sith, the Imperial Confederation they all suffered from one thing: ineptitude. Remus slowly moved his hands from behind his back to his left arm across his mid-torso and brought his right hand across his face. The New Imperial Order and their new Sovereign had an array of leadership that have and could accomplish many things. Remus leaned over to his cadre of officers and assistants and smirked as covered his mouth ever so subtly as if he was thinking at least that is what he wished to appear. "Add them to the list."

 

[Marlon Sularen]

Marlon listed as the Sovereign Imperator spoke , ignoring the arguments between Admiral Ordo and other officials. The so-called "Lord Admiral of the One Sith" could be a nuisance in the future provided at how stubborn and arrogant he was , something that could not be tolerated in the New Imperial Order in the eyes of Marlon Sularen. As the Sovereign Imperator spoke Marlon nodded in agreement , the Sith tainted ideology of the Sith Empire was the reason for why many Core Imperial officers stayed in the Core Worlds as warlords rather then move to the Sith Empire , the CIC was similar to the NIO a secular government free from the influence of the Sith. The Imperial identity had been destroyed by the Sith and the Ideology itself tainted with the Sith's own ambitions. The Sith Empire had to fall for the greater good of all Imperials.

Sularen watched as the Executor and the Grand Vizier declared their defiance against the Sith , both denouncing the corrupt ways of the Sith and Jedi and vowing to secure the future of all Imperials and to put an end to the disruptive ways of the Jedi and Sith. In addition to the forces of Irveric Tavlar , Kor Vexen , Remus Kelbor and other officials , Sularen had at his disposal a strong fleet comprised of various 2 Dictator-Class Battlecruisers [Annihilator and Vengeance] , 3 Princps-Class Heavy Battlecruisers , 1 Antigone Prototype Battlecruiser along with various Star Destroyers [Pellaeon-III's , Imperius-I's and Allegiance-Class] and Cruisers [Subjugator-Class , Donnager-Class and Tyrant-IIs] in which would soon reinforce the growing Armada of the New Imperial Order and aid the NIO in it's quest to defeat the Sith Empire and restore peace and order to the Galaxy.

With this Sularen hoped that he could find the new purpose he seeked in this New Imperial Order in aiding Irveric Talvar and his followers bring down the Sith , crush the Jedi and restore Peace , Order and Stability to the Galaxy once and for all.

Tags : Irveric Tavlar | Thaelius | Hans Vaiden | Vaulkhar | Remus Kelbor | Tithon Antilles | Darth Bellum | Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt | Imperial Warlord Zovesa | Tyrell Paxxus | Ravraa Vyshraal