Private The Room Where It Happens

[Domaric Mordane]

Tags: Marlon Sularen | Selrik Lorcas | Her
Location: Low Orbit, Anzat

​

The cavernous central hangar of the INV Executrix thrummed with restrained purpose, its void-dark hull concealed from Anzat's sky below. Allegiant General Domaric Mordane stood alone beneath the towering blast doors, his greatcoat brushing the polished durasteel, watching the layers of Imperial labor unfold before him. Though the battle ship ran dark, activity within the vessel pulsed with methodical energy. The Executrix was no longer merely a ship of war; she had become a crucible in orbit, a forge of doctrine and discipline suspended above a neutral world. And Mordane, architect of its order, waited with hands clasped behind his back as the children of his machine prepared to greet history.

To his left, a platoon of raw Crucible cadets—boys and girls not long removed from the storm of Cademimu and other reclamation worlds—suffered in the front leaning rest, faces thankfully averted under the heat of a Drill Instructor's withering glare. "You're not soldiers," the sergeant barked, striding between them like a wolf among lambs. "You're oxygen thieves in plastoid costumes! But we'll chisel something Imperial from your meat." The older cadets, between fifteen and nineteen, responded with instinctive flinches and barely stifled shame. Remarkably, they all kept their form. Mordane observed without interruption; correction, after all, was the core of reform.

Farther down the hangar, synchronized thunder echoed as a company of Crucible stormtrooper cadets launched themselves through magnetic drop tunnels—orbital deployment drills timed to the millisecond. Their bodies, clad in black-plated vacuum gear, vanished through blast doors one after another like ordinance fired with intent. In the viewing gantries above, Crucible instructors analyzed vector telemetry, voice command latency, and zero-G stabilization metrics. Every soldier would be forged by fire—if not in atmosphere, then in vacuum, where breath and precision mattered more than instinct. For Mordane, it was the rhythm of renewal, not war: discipline before destruction.

Beyond them, near the rear of the hangar, engineers clustered around disassembled TIE chassis. Sparks arced from fusion cutters while diagnostic drones scanned repulsor arrays. Nearby, a squad of pilot cadets engaged a simulated sortie inside open-canopy cockpits, their heads twitching beneath neuro-visor helms as they flew through a virtual combat net projected from the hangar's ceiling. Rounds of virtual fire lit up the surrounding haze, dogfighting drills against legacy X-wings, atmospheric skimmers, and pirate cutters. The air buzzed with layered audio: instructors' sharp corrections, AI feedback loops, and the low churn of hangar servos cycling readiness protocols.

Amid it all, Mordane remained still. The Executrix was alive beneath his boots—steel, sweat, and software bending to imperial will. Here, Imperialism was not a political theory but a lived machine, regenerating itself in orbit, above a neutral world too old and too dangerous to be tamed by force. Yet today would not be about strength of arms. It would be about control—of memory, hierarchy, and purpose.

Anakae's voice ghosted into the space beside him, a flicker of blue light forming into the AI's wraithlike visage. "Allegiant General," she intoned with smooth solemnity, "The emissaries from the Imperial Confederation have entered the system." Mordane's jaw tightened slightly—just a fractional tick of the muscle—as he turned away from the roaring drills and walked toward the reception corridor. History was arriving through his gates, and this time, it would find a fortress, not a fleet.

 

[Her]

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Anzat, Bryx sector, The Slice, Mid Rim;
INV Executrix.
Tags: Domaric Mordane | Marlon Sularen | Selrik Lorcas

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The familiar hydraulic hissss and the whirring of pistons exposed the interior of the transport vessel. Stood upon the threshold was a woman garbed in cladded white with the designation of COMECI emblazoned somewhere near the heart. As Her waited for the landing ramp to lower she observed an officer on approach with a compliment of security forces, a protocol droid and a astromech unit to greet the emissaries sent from Confederation space. With a gesture of her hand she quietly delegated to the on board crew to meet with Mordane's men and run through the routine inspection protocols and verification processes while she walked down the ramp and into the hangar bay.

It felt like every month a new Imperial remnant revealed themselves. Scattered throughout the galaxy survived the notions and ideals of Imperalism that had been fractured by the consequences of campaigns and political disagreements which left only three united by the sensibilities of the Imperial Confederation. As Her admired the scenery around them she eyed her cohorts who had travelled from the reaches of newly annexed Imperial space into the luxurious rich realms of the Mid Rim. The negotiations and subsequent agreements had seen these three representatives of the confederate states-- the ISA, ER and RE-- come together through a new alliance cemented under the reign of LIRAETH DESCHART and here they were set to meet with an expat of the dreaded DARK EMPIRE but as they continued to fight the turmoil of the galaxy to restore ORDER likened minds ironically served to pierce and disrupt the initiatives that were meant to serve the ideas and tenants of THE EMPIRE.

They would have to be dealt with accordingly.

The feed of intelligence which was dripping in-- stemming from the attack on Cademimu V-- was troublesome to the undercover Dark Lord. Mere days ago, as she stood upon the ramparts of ICD HQ to overlook the plains of New Aldera, she had felt secure within the designs and works of her machinations. Mounting pressure among the Imperial elite on New Alderaan seemed to be pointing towards imminent conflict with the dark realms of THE THANDON STAR CLUSTER for her associates could not sit idly by with the knowledge that the SITH had engaged into acts of war against the confederation only for the revelation that an Imperial remnant were the likely culprits of an attack upon a world that had been occupied by the Dark-Imperials only a few months ago.

It felt like a step backwards. Instead of gearing up for a new campaign to destroy the greatest threat to the new Imperial occupation of the Outer Rim Territories they were out here several parsecs away to learn more about the catastrophe in the Cademimu sector so as to ascertain who were the culprits responsible for that ruin. Whoever they were they could not be ignored either. All of them-- the remnants which had yet to join the confederation-- would have to dealt with and in particular if they were responsible for something like this. Curiously it would appear that the expat they were set to meet with could shed light on the situation at hand.

The hem of her white cloak fluttered in the breeze as Her stood in the maelstrom of General Mudane's well oiled and drilled war machine. As her cohorts disembarked and readied themselves for the meeting the Warden Primus-- head of the newly formed Imperial Corrections Directorate-- waited patiently for this meeting to begin...

---

 

[Selrik Lorcas]

OBJECTIVE: Discover
LOCATION: Anzat System
​

The Risen-class Star Destroyer Requiem cut an imposing figure as it exited hyperspace on the fringes of the Anzat system. The occupant of the vessel, Grand Moff Selrik Lorcas, had received an invitation to a meeting with a former member of the Dark Empire, someone he knew little about save for having heard the name before. He didn't know what they wanted, and he didn't know why he was one of the people that had been requested for a meeting, but he was aware that Admiral Sularen had been summoned as well. That made sense given the Admiral's history with the Dark Empire, though. Selrik had no such history.

They took a shuttle from the ship, escorted by Confederation fighter craft, and approached the Executrix from a far enough distance to be respectful, but a close enough distance that should they dare try and fire on the craft, they would be met by the full force of the newer, larger Requiem. There was a full contingent within the craft from the confederation, including the leader of the newly formed ICD. A specialized group for corrections did seem to have its uses, but he was still wary of its formation and leadership. It was too new not to be.

The shuttle landed without incident. Good. Selrik didn't move immediately, nor did his Sentinels. Instead, he allowed the others to disembark, a show of parade, typical Imperial pomp. In fact, he waited until everyone else had left the shuttle that was going to before he stood and walked towards the ramp, stepping down it to look around the hangar that greeted him. His eyes searched everything, studying the elements of the troopers in training all the way to the TIE's that were being worked on. This ship appeared more of a battle station, a platform above the world, than a moving fortress in space. Perhaps they had decided to call Anzat home.

His eyes settled on Mordane, and he turned, approaching him, Sentinels in tow. He ignored everyone else at this point, singular focused, intent. He was there for a reason and he intended to get to the point of it.

"General Mordane," he said as he neared. "An impressive ship, but she appears more a platform than a vessel of war these days."

OUTFIT: Moff Standard | GEAR: Blaster Pistol | COMPANIONS: Imperial Sentinels x4
TAGS: Domaric Mordane | Her | Marlon Sularen ​

 

[Marlon Sularen]

T H E_R O O M_W H E R E_I T_H A P P E N S

IMPERIAL CONFEDERATION
ANZAT, MID RIM

​

The INV Sularen's Revenge emerged from hyperspace, soon joining the Executrix and the Requiem as the three imposing Imperial Battlecruiser lay in orbit of the Mid Rim world of Anzat. Onboard Supreme Commander Marlon Sularen watched from the bridge as his flagship came to a complete halt in proximity to the two other Battlecruiser as it remained parked in orbit of the Mid Rim world. He along with Grand Moff Lorcas and the Warden Primus of the ICD had been invited to meet with Allegiant-General Domaric Mordane, an old subordinate of Sularen whom had served with him back during the days of the Dark Empire.

It had been a while since Sularen had spoke to Mordane with both men having been separated from each other after the collapse of the Dark Empire. Sularen had received an ISS Report concerning Mordane's rescue by Imperius in the Deep Core although surprisingly the Allegiant-General had done little to link up with the Imperial Confederation not even trying to reach out to Sularen upon being rescued from his isolation. Regardless Sularen remained eager to catch up with the Allegiant-General and hear what he had in mind as Sularen expected something serious given the fact that he had summoned both him and the Grand Moff.

Before long, a single Gunship left the ventral hangars of the Sularen's Revenge and made it's way towards the Executrix, escorted by a pair of TIE Fighters. Once the Gunship came to rest in the hangar, the side doors opened up, allowing the Supreme Commander and his usual protection detail of SpecNav Commandos stepping out, where Sularen already finding the Allegiant-General, the Warden Primus and the Grand Moff already gathered together apparently waiting for Sularen to make his own entrance to join them.

Upon exiting the Gunship, Sularen proceeded to walk up towards Allegiant-General Mordane and offered him a salute in respect. "Allegiant-General Mordane. It's nice to see you once more, after all this time." Sularen began. "I must say this is quite the impressive vessel. I do look forward to seeing it's performance on the battlefield when we march into war against the enemies of the Empire." Sularen added with a soft smile.

Tags | Domaric Mordane | Her | Selrik Lorcas ​

 

[Domaric Mordane]

Tags: Marlon Sularen | Selrik Lorcas | Her
Location: Low Orbit, Anzat

Mordane's boots struck the polished deck in calm, deliberate steps as the blast doors retracted, revealing the trio stepping into the threshold of the Executrix's central corridor. The hangar noise fell away into a colder silence here, pressure-sealed and climate-controlled, designed for reception and retreat. Sularen, Lorcas, and...the other. The woman Intel had only ever called Her. Pretentious? Perhaps. Intriguing? Absolutely.

Mordane inclined his chin toward Lorcas but offered no bow or deference. "Grand Moff Lorcas," he said evenly, his tone laced with cool precision, "I should remind you that in the Empire, first greetings are made with full titles—not from allegiance to ceremony, but as a matter of courtesy. Especially aboard another officer's flagship." His words carried no malice, only a sharp edge of disciplined correction. "The Executrix is many things," he continued as he pivoted, gesturing for them to follow, "but above all, she remains a vessel of war—one designed not only to destroy but to instruct. You'll see that clearly enough before your visit is through."

He turned on his heel and began walking, hands behind his back in a posture neither submissive nor dismissive, but sovereign. Sularen's voice followed soon after, measured and familiar. Mordane did not slow his pace. "I appreciate your optimism," he replied over his shoulder, not bothering to look back. "But let us not be so eager for war that we forget how easily it consumes the unprepared. The Executrix will perform, I assure you—but performance is only valuable when paired with purpose." He offered no elaboration on that point. Let them wonder what he meant, and why he had kept the ship running dark above a world like Anzat.

They passed beneath vaulted black durasteel arches into a broad inner corridor, subtly lit by indigo strips running along the floor. Above, battle banners hung in respectful silence: stormtrooper cohorts, naval campaign honors, the sigil of the Crucible, and—conspicuously absent—no mark of the Imperial Confederation. They passed under them like relic-seekers in a shrine, the quiet interrupted only by the distant rhythm of marching boots.

Ahead, a platoon of freshly minted Crucible stormtroopers advanced in perfect formation through a wide junction corridor—black pauldrons, white plating, precision-drilled into silent cohesion. Their eyes tracked the senior officers with clinical awareness, yet their march did not falter. As they crossed paths, the unit commander—a newly promoted lieutenant, judging by his insignia—broke from regulation. He turned sharply, heels snapping together, and offered Mordane a full parade-ground salute, arm extended, fist to chest in the old manner.

Mordane returned it with a nod—not a flourish, but enough to acknowledge the gesture. "Discipline," he said to no one in particular, but loud enough for his guests to hear, "is the only empire that survives its architects." Then he resumed walking.

As they neared the entrance to the conference chamber—its doors guarded by two Executioner-clad sentinels and watched by the cold blue gaze of Anakae's wall-mounted sensor—he spoke once more, turning his head slightly toward the group. "This meeting is informal, of course. But you are aboard a vessel built for order, not negotiation. I trust you'll find the environment... clarifying."

The doors parted. Inside, the chamber was cold, sleek, and unmistakably Imperial. And it was his.

Let them step inside and wonder just what kind of Empire Mordane intended to build.

 

[Selrik Lorcas]

​

Selrik completely ignored the attempt at chastisement. As far as he was concerned, Mordane had no rank to refer to as he was not a member of the Confederation, yet, and therefore UNWORTHY of such a reference. Sularen referring to him by title didn't matter. It was a personal choice the Supreme Commander made to do so. Perhaps due to their history with one another. Selrik had no such history.

"Titles are reserved for Imperial officers within the Empire, or those held in esteem, and I don't believe you have joined the Confederation," Selrik said, letting the implication of his words linger.

He wasn't shutting the door on Mordane joining the confederation. On the contrary, he was trying to indicate that if he wanted to be Imperial, he SHOULD join it. Still, he followed. Certainly, Mordane wished to give the appearance of adherence to the ideals of the Empire, but there was, rather conspicuously, a lack of Imperial regalia present within the ship. Only a strange symbol which he could not identify. It looked slightly familiar, a variation of another one, but he hadn't seen this exact one before. Perhaps it was something that lingered from the days of the Dark Empire, he didn't know.

The presence of another group of Sentinels wasn't unnoticed, though Selrik was positive that his would match up, if not perform better. Not that it would be needed at the moment.

They entered a chamber that was befitting of a meeting such as this. He found it in good taste even if he didn't care for the way that Mordane had spoken to him prior. This was an informal meeting. An informal meeting to which he still did not know the purpose. Did Mordane wish to join the Confederation? If that was the case, then by all means. And even still, Selrik would rank above him as a member of the Ruling Council. The way the man had spoken to him was, well, insubordinate.

"You've called us here for a reason, so why don't we get to it? I don't like wasting time. Efficiency is just as important as Order and Discipline within the Empire."

OUTFIT: Moff Standard | GEAR: Blaster Pistol | COMPANIONS: Imperial Sentinels x4
TAGS: Domaric Mordane | Marlon Sularen | Her ​

 

[Marlon Sularen]

T H E_R O O M_W H E R E_I T_H A P P E N S

IMPERIAL CONFEDERATION
ANZAT, MID RIM

​

Sularen remained silent as the Allegiant-General and the Grand Moff engaged in a little back-and-forth in front of him. It was clear that there was a degree of hostility between both men and while normally Sularen would have preferred to step-in and try to calm things down, the Supreme Commander was more curious to know why Mordane had summoned them here in the first place.

As Grand Moff Lorcas has pointed out, Mordane had made little effort to link up with the Confederation after being stranded in the Deep Core, despite his affiliation with the Empire Reborn, which was a member faction of the Confederation. Now that Sularen had thought about that fact, it was a bit weird to see Mordane pull up near Imperial space with a brand new flagship despite his supposed isolation in the Deep Core. It left Sularen pondering about what he had truly been up to all this time and maybe he would find the answer to that question soon enough.

"I must agree with the Grand Moff, Allegiant-General." Sularen said as he spoke up. "Why have you summoned us here?"

Tags | Domaric Mordane | Selrik Lorcas | Her ​

 

[Her]

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Anzat, Bryx sector, The Slice, Mid Rim;
INV Executrix.
Tags: Marlon Sularen | Domaric Mordane | Selrik Lorcas

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As Her walked in tow with the three men-- neigh, among the three most powerful men in the Imperial remnants-- she considered them in concert with her own machinations. What Empire did she want these three to build along the Outer Rim Territories? One that would bring an end to the Sith hegemony at the THANDON STAR CLUSTER. Crimson eyes concealed beneath veneer of a pair of shades was in stark contrast to the crisp white uniform of the ICD and so too did she concealed her intentions for there was a time and place to make herself known.

Her noted the absence of the Imperial Confederation among the collection of banners which adorned the hallways as they all followed Mordane through the bowels of his flagship. In her quiet attitude she could learn more about her associates in the new burgeoning alliance consolidated under Liraeth Deschart. The remnants of the Empire of the Lost whom survived the machinations of the Fifth Wing to form the Imperial Sector Authority were well known to her. Two years of work in the old territories of the Tion Hegemony had taught her how to deal with the ISA-Imperials which now operated under the umbrella of the confederation.

This was not true for the Dark-Imperials of the defunct Dark Empire and it's splinter faction in the Empire Reborn nor was it for the Risen-Imperial epitomized in the form of GRAND MOFF LORCAS. The Imperial identity and philosophy had brought these people together under the idea that consolidation and unity would serve their purpose of restoring THE EMPIRE but Her knew that in shared solidarity there were often divergences in opinion or status quo. She was more intrigued in the differences among these men rather than what they shared in commonality for it was in those dark recesses of the mind where they thought in truth and solidarity that would reveal just who they were.

Was LORCAS a leader that would bring order and stability to the new Imperial occupation in the Outer Rim? Did SULAREN still possesses the strength to destroy the enemies of IMPERIALISM? What was MORDANE after in this meeting?

Beneath strobing artificial lights and air Her followed quietly, contemplating, observing...

---

 

[Domaric Mordane]

Tags: Marlon Sularen | Selrik Lorcas | Her
Location: Low Orbit, Anzat

"The confederation." Mordane spat out the word like venom, his tone as cold as the polished steel beneath their boots. He didn't raise his voice—he didn't need to. The acoustics of the Executrix's primary strategy chamber were engineered to amplify precision over volume, much like the ship itself. He stood at the far end of the long obsidian table, hands resting on its edge, his gaze fixed not on Lorcas but past him—through him—as if to reject the premise of the man's very presence.

"You dress it up in banners, paste 'Imperial' on the letterhead, and parade an Empress who claims inheritance with no blood, no battle, no blessing. And you expect me to believe this is the continuation of the Galactic Empire?" He straightened slowly, letting the silence stretch, letting them feel the gravity of the insult he had yet to fully speak aloud. "Your Confederation is an alliance of client-states with nostalgic uniforms and fractured loyalties. It is a convenience. A costume stitched together from the leftovers of men who watched the real Empire fall and thought themselves worthy to play sovereign in its shadow."

He began to pace, deliberately slow, letting the echo of his boots punctuate each word like artillery shells. "The Galactic Empire was born in fire. Not by vote. Not by council. It was forged by decree, tempered in rebellion, and carried forward by men and women who sacrificed their names, their futures, their humanity, for the promise of order. That is what you do not understand. You claim legitimacy through consensus. But consensus is the death of vision."

He paused beside one of the tall armored viewports where the swirl of Anzat's storm-wracked clouds churned faintly beneath. His voice lowered, sharpening into something more intimate—and far more dangerous. "Your Empress has no throne. She has a chair—warmed by flatterers, propped up by compromise. There is no bloodline, no mantle. Just ambition. That is not succession. That is theater."

Turning back to face them, he leveled his gaze across the table with a calm, brutal finality. "But I have not summoned you here to complain about your make-believe Empire." His eyes briefly flicked toward Sularen and Her, carefully neutral. "I assume your intellegence apparatus has been tracking recent galactic events, yes?"

 

[Selrik Lorcas]

​

"Continuation? Oh, you fundamentally misunderstand what you've stumbled into, Mordane," Selrik said.

No smirk, no glee at putting another in their place, just cool and calm from a man who had been through much in his short, compared to some, lifetime. While there was certainly a part of him that relished the chance to give upstarts a lesson in what the Empire was, he didn't allow it to control him. There was a place for all, mostly, within the confines of the Empire, even those who had, so far, refused to join it. But the strict attachment to a name, to an Emperor who cared for nothing but his own power to the point of sending his prized pupils often to their deaths, was folly, and Selrik had seen it far too often.

"Continuation of failure has no place in the Empire and everything that the Palpatine bloodline stood for was, and is, failure. A quick study of historical documents, the ones that remain, will indicate as much. The man was plagued by hubris and hatred for non-humans to the point one of the most brilliant minds in the galaxy told him how to control it and he refused, opting for gigantic displays of power instead of order through strength. He violated everything the Empire stands for and you cling to his coattails like a starving child.

"No, our Empress doesn't derive from his bloodline, but she still comes from a strong Imperial line. The Deschart's helped found the Imperial Remnant after the darkness ended. They ran it smoothly, albeit like you they clung to a name in their Empress, a Pallopides, and like the Galactic Empire of old, the Sith destroyed them as well, albeit with fire rather than ineptitude. So why would we cling to a line of people who have failed, repeatedly, to bring the Empire to fruition? I do not enjoy failure and will not wallow in it like a sycophant."

He seated himself in a chair, not even bothering to remain standing as Mordane paced. No, those who did not join the Empire but played at it didn't deserve the luxury of him remaining at attention.

"You play at empire while we build the Empire. The Confederation is a new beginning that will stamp out a new future, one with the true Empire at its helm."

He let those words linger and took a deep breath.

"As for present matters, I assume you refer to the demolitions of former Dark Empire worlds. Yes, we are aware of it and our intelligence community is thoroughly investigating it."

OUTFIT: Moff Standard | GEAR: Blaster Pistol | COMPANIONS: Imperial Sentinels x4
TAGS: Domaric Mordane | Her | Marlon Sularen ​

 

[Marlon Sularen]

T H E_R O O M_W H E R E_I T_H A P P E N S

IMPERIAL CONFEDERATION
ANZAT, MID RIM

​

Sularen sighed as the Allegiant-General ranted about the legitimacy of the Imperial Confederation which was followed by the Grand Moff harshly rebuked him. He was far too familiar with these charades, Imperials arguing over whose version of the Empire was more legitimate instead of trying to find common ground and forge one powerful Empire that could restore Imperial prestige and authority across the galaxy. It was this mentality that plagued the vast majority of Imperials after the collapse of the Old Empire and prevented the proper unification of Imperialism in the galaxy on the level that Talvar had accomplished through his Declaration of Defiance.

"I won't add to the pointless debate of whose version of Imperialism is more legitimate." Sularen chimed in, addressing both the Allegiant-General and the Grand Moff. "Such childish antics are the reason why we haven't seen an Imperial power on the level of the New Imperial Order since it's collapse. While groups like the Jedi, Sith and Mandalorians enjoy relative unity, we divide ourselves and forget what made the New Imperial Order so strong in the first place." the Supreme Commander added.

"As for our knowledge of recent galactic events, i think the Grand Moff has given a sufficient explanation on that matter." Sularen further responded. "What's more important however is the reasoning behind this meeting as you have yet to answer my previous question as to why you called us here."

Tags | Domaric Mordane | Selrik Lorcas | Her ​

 

[Domaric Mordane]

Tags: Marlon Sularen | Selrik Lorcas | Her
Location: Low Orbit, Anzat

Mordane stood in silence for a time, not out of shock or hesitation, but calculation. Selrik Lorcas' monologue—measured, confident, utterly flawed—deserved no interruption. Yet when the final words faded into the hum of the Executrix's systems, the Allegiant General's voice filled the chamber with a chill that carried the weight of doctrine, history, and contempt.

"You mistake historical literacy for insight, Lorcas," Mordane said, voice ironclad, utterly still. "You speak of failure, but fail to understand that the Galactic Empire was both born of victory and necessity. That its ideals endured centuries of galactic collapse, its remnants bickering and bartering over scraps. You recite the sins of the Emperor as though you stand above him. Yet he forged unity from chaos, and for a generation, peace was law. If that is failure, then your Confederation is still in its infancy—built on ash, presuming to lecture the fire that forged you."

He took a single step forward, his boots clicking with purpose on the polished deck.

"You denounce lineage while invoking your own. A Deschart? A Pallopides? Blood matters only when the Empire is weak. But you sit here trying to frame your Empress's claim on the back of names you admit were extinguished by Sith fire. So I ask you: if that line ended in flames, then what legitimacy survives it? You do not reject dynasties. You simply resent the one that still casts a shadow."

Mordane's eyes cut briefly to Sularen, then back to Lorcas. "You posture behind a new beginning, but speak of old wars. You wear uniforms stitched in familiar colors, command fleets designed for the same domination, and speak of stamping out futures as if that is peace. You are not builders. You are revisionists. And like all revisionists, you fear what you cannot overwrite."

At that, he turned from them, facing the vast holomap at the chamber's center. The lights dimmed. A projection flickered to life—Cademimu V. Ruined. Scarred. Silent.

"I summoned you here not to be lectured, but to offer clarity," Mordane said, voice quieter now, more lethal in its calm. "At Cademimu V, the sky was torn open. The planet was not occupied—it was judged. You may believe Him dead, lost, or buried. But I stood upon that world and watched as He returned. Darth Solipsis lives."

The Executrix rumbled faintly, as if the very vessel stirred with the name.

"The Empire was never dead. Merely sleeping. And now it has awakened in truth—not as a cult, or a cabal, or a pale imitation—but as the Empire proper. The Executrix, this ship, this fleet—no longer serves any Warlord, Regent, or memory. It flies the banner of the Galactic Empire. Not your Confederation. Not your Parliament."

He turned to face them again. His tone was final, resolute. "You will return to your Empress and inform her that a reckoning is upon us. The Sovereign of the Empire has returned. There will be no coexistence. There will be no unity with pretenders. There is only the continuation of what should have been—what was meant to be. And you—if you are wise—will decide which side of history you wish to be buried under."

He paused.

"I summoned you here to give you what He will not. A Choice. You may kneel, or you may burn."

And then, silence—total, suffocating silence.

The meeting was over.

 

[Her]

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Anzat, Bryx sector, The Slice, Mid Rim;
INV Executrix.
Tags: Marlon Sularen | Selrik Lorcas | Domaric Mordane

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"At Cademimu V, the sky was torn open. The planet was not occupied—it was judged. You may believe Him dead, lost, or buried. But I stood upon that world and watched as He returned. Darth Solipsis lives."

Behind the rimmed glasses a pair of crimson eyes lowered themselves to gaze upon the devastation of Cademimu V.

Her knew of the planet, of course. Two years ago it was the host planet to an organisation within the destroyed Dark Empire colloquially known as "THE TRIBUNAL" who had elected to given full military honours to the late Ignacious Korvan who had been killed-in-action during the annexation of Tython at the beginning of the Core Wars. A military funeral had been held as the remnants of the New Imperial Order (who had joined the Dark-Imperial junta on Carlac) to pay their respects to their fallen leader who had consolidated and led them through Wild Space following the conclusion to the legendary SECOND GREAT HYPERSPACE WAR.

They had also debated (according to the details provided by Alicia Drey from the late Director's encrypted message) about who and how Korvan would be succeeded in their position as the so-called IMPERIAL DESPOT. Her eyed Sularen while Mordane spoke to them about the return of Darth Solipsis remembering how close the man had been in becoming the Grand Vizier who was now represented by Shannic Wulf in the reconsecrated GALACTIC EMPIRE!

Her pouted her lips thoughtfully as she turned back to listen to Mordane.

"I summoned you here to give you what He will not. A Choice. You may kneel, or you may burn."

It was not am empty threat to Her's summarization. Although it had only been a relatively short time since she had begun influencing events along the Outer Rim Territories (as part of their plot to destroy and eliminate the Sith state located in the THANDON STAR CLUSTER) Her had heard pieces here or there from the last great Star War that had been waged over thirty years ago. Tales of destroyed worlds, such as Csilla, came to mind and was consequentially refined into intense focus in the off-drop of the holographic images of destruction wrought upon Cademimu V by the will and order of one man.

Solipsis.

Such was the warped mind of the undercover Dark Lord that there was a pang of frustration to the revelation that not only were these attacks by Imperial forces true (which had been picked up by the Confederation in the weeks before this meeting upon the Executrix) but were the work of the so-called Dark-Imperial bloc who had not joined the Imperial remnant that had called itself the Empire Reborn (and later merged into the ranks of the Imperial Confederation ruled by Liraeth Deschart).

Survivors of the Core Wars who had disappeared unknowingly with their master after the Battle of Coruscant only to now return under a resurgent, reconsecrated GALACTIC EMPIRE to finish what they had started two years ago, and perhaps in someway, to complete the work that they had undertaken thirty years ago under the banners of the Brotherhood of Maw and NIO. This revelation of a new old adversary was in antitheist to her own plans and the work towards eliminating the Sith Order located along the borders near the Tion Cluster-- a distraction and threat that would make it more difficult to move the Confederation forward in their bid to own the Outer Rim Territories as the sole proprietors of IMPERIALISM!

Pressing both hands down upon the arm rests of the seat she had briefly taken to listen to Domaric Mordane , Her approached the holographic projector, leaned over and wordlessly turned the device off. She locked eyes with Mordane and with a hateful glare Her quietly exited the meeting room set to return to the transport that had taken her to Anzat enamoured with the threat that had been provided by the General.

[END POST]​

 

[Selrik Lorcas]

​

Selrik clucked his tongue.

"No, the Emperor created chaos to make it appear that he was the one who quelled it in order to legitimize his position and gain the support of simpletons."

He stood once more, finding this whole thing tiresome. Had he known the man was just a pawn of some pathetic attempt at Imperialism, that resorted to paltry tactics like burning worlds in a tantrum, he wouldn't have come to this meeting. The man, Mordane, and the people he served were unfit to hold the title of Imperial. They were not Empire, just empire. Another Sith playing at controlling the galaxy. Same old shtick and it would fail as it always did. Especially considering it was being lead by someone who had failed before. Why did people flock to failure? What kind of fools were these that continued to worship at the shrine of the Sith?

Clasping his hands behind his back, he allowed a smirk to dawn upon his face.

"While you belittle the Empress for her name, which had no factor in her selection as Empress, you follow a Sith who is a proven failure. Only a fool would see a failure and allow them to lead again. We are not fools, Mordane, we are Imperials, and idle threats from one who wallows in failure mean little to us. The Sith have no place in the Empire because they cannot, by virtue of their own depravity, embrace Imperialism."

He turned to follow Her towards the door, but stopped briefly to look back.

"You would do well to consider your place in this galaxy, Domaric. Despite what you might think, I don't want those like you to die in the petty machinations of an egomaniac. Open your eyes to the reality of your situation, as right now it is you who kneel, not I, to someone who doesn't care about you or the Empire, but a petty quest for galactic conquest and power for himself. If you choose to continue the path you are on, you will find only the same ruin that was experienced with the failures of past organizations. Empire is not about petty tactics, it's about dominion for the sake of order in a chaotic galaxy. Sith are Chaos, same as the Jedi. Kneel to them or embrace Empire.

"Think on that."

With that, he would leave and head back to his transport. A small part of him wanted to call in additional forces and wipe out the vessel that they had met upon, but he was honorable and would not do such a thing after being called to a honorable meeting. Domaric had given them quarter and he offered the same in return.

It may not be so when next they met.

OUTFIT: Moff Standard | GEAR: Blaster Pistol | COMPANIONS: Imperial Sentinels x4
TAGS: Domaric Mordane | Marlon Sularen ​

 

[Marlon Sularen]

T H E_R O O M_W H E R E_I T_H A P P E N S

IMPERIAL CONFEDERATION
ANZAT, MID RIM

​

Sularen rolled his eyes as Domaric Mordane went on another tirade, revealing that Darth Solipsis had returned and was responsible for the destruction of Cademimu V before threatening Sularen, Lorcas and those who served under the Imperial Confederation. He had seen this type of rhetoric plenty of times before especially among Imperials and it was starting to get annoying. The inability to tolerate and compromise with other brands of Imperialism for the sake of Imperial unification was a characteristic that Sularen had a great distaste in and it was extremely disappointing to see more and more Imperials adopt this intolerance.

Once Grand Moff Lorcas left the hangar after belittling the Allegiant-General, Sularen turned to address Mordane. "To think that i saw potential in you, Mordane. I had always thought you would be at our side as we brought forth a true resurgence of Imperialism in the galaxy." Sularen said, shaking his head in disappointment. "But alas i already know you've made up your mind on this matter. You will serve Solipsis no matter what and will be willing to die for him and his cause, no matter how misguided it may be." the Supreme Commander added.

Sularen then turned around to head back to his gunship before looking back at Mordane one last time. "Just a word of advice, do not lose your head in your arrogant sense of superiority." he said. "Those who are so convinced that they are far superior then their foes tend to fall the hardest. You aren't the first person to threaten me with hellfire, and you certainly won't be the last" and with that Sularen boarded his Gunship followed by his cohort of bodyguards.

As the Gunship exited the Executrix and made it's way back to the Sularen's Revenge, Sularen knew one thing would be apparent : the next time he and Mordane would meet there would be a reckoning and he wouldn't be the one that would get buried.

Tags | Domaric Mordane | Selrik Lorcas | Her ​