OOC: Being as the RP has all but ended, this is probably irrelevant, but I’d like Ithron to have some part in the proceedings, since he was clearly on the ship and I doubt he sat reading back issues of the “Beano” while the takeover occurred…
IC:
Ithron knew what to do. As soon as Necros indicated that the coast was clear, Ithron walked off the ship. When everyone was discussing plans and setting up base camp, he slipped into the nearby trees and set off – away from the capital city.
The imperials will probably give Master Jas resources, Ithron thought, referring to the Sith Master by his rank even in his mind. What does that mean? Ships? Soldiers? If I know the imperials, they’ll give us less than they think we need.
Just by the conversations on the ship, Ithron knew the intentions of the other Sith – at least in general terms. But as he saw it, they had all missed one important thing. Any Sith, especially the more experienced Knights could easily influence the crowd to install a puppet government in just a few days….
But rebellions aren’t caused by the public, thought Ithron. They’re caused by rich, powerful men in comfortable chairs discussing things calmly. The mob is side-effect, a consequence. The real rebellion happens over a tumbler of whiskey in an entrepreneur’s sitting room…
This was the task that Ithron had appointed himself to do – to find the industrialists who really ran things on Rodia – and ensure their unwavering loyalty to the Sith, and the Empire for now.
Some time later…
Minutes after arriving in a suburb, Ithron was able to find out (mainly through Basic-language news items) that the commerce center on the planet seemed to be a building called the Rodia Trade Facility on another continent. As he stood considering this, he didn’t notice the people scuttle past him and shoot furtive looks at his robes and wondering why he was so calm in the middle of a warzone. He could sense fear everywhere like a haze over the planet.
The transport system was in bad shape and some places, including the capital, were inaccessible. With the help of the Force, though, he managed to find someone willing to fly him there. So far, he had barely used the Force and might just have been a tourist – albeit one in black robes.
Outside the Rodia Trade Facility
The buildings were even more impressive than promised. Built similar in shape to a pyramid, the building was supposed to represent how society worked. The bankers were on the lower floors. As one went up, the average earnings of the population of that floor increased until, eventually, one found oneself on the top floor amount the elite: The richest, most powerful men on Rodia.
Opening the door to the lobby, Ithron was surrounded by activity. There were people running, people scattering papers, and general chaos. Ithron got the impression that everyone knew something – that the imperials had landed, he guessed – but that noone knew enough to be able to think calmly.
Well, he thought. At least it’s mostly happening two feet below my head height….
Using a trick he had seem Master Jas do many times and that he had practiced in private, Ithron gently altered perception in the room so that he, even as the tallest person in the room, remained unnoticed and unmarked. Everyone just assumed he was meant to be there.
Walking up to the elevator, he spotted a guard by the entrance.
“Open this door, and take me right to the top.”
The guard gawped.
“Now!” Ithron continued.
Recovering, the guard grinned. “Very funny, Sir! You had me there for a moment! Top floor indeed!”
The look on Ithron’s face didn’t change and slowly the guard became aware that he wasn’t joking.
“But I can’t ju---“
“Listen. I’m guessing you’ve heard that the Imperials have landed? To put a stop to this little rebellion of yours. I’m a Sith.” He paused to let the word take its full effect. Probably the guard was wondering why he was still alive if the gentleman he had laughed at was a Sith. “My sole aim here is to make sure the rebellion is ended as efficiently as possible, and you can help me by taking me to speak to them.” Ithron pointed to the ceiling. “Of course, if that’s not possible, I’ll have this building cracked open like an oyster.”
Turning to walk away, Ithron slipped a communicator out of his robe and started to tune it to an Imperial frequency. He could feel the guard’s fear. Pathetic.
“3…2….1…” Ithron counted under his breath. Behind him came the sound of the solid elevator door opening.
“Thank you.”
As the doors slid closed and the floor number changed above it, Ithron readied himself for the challenge ahead. He hadn’t even needed the Force to get this far. Ordinary common sense and confidence in a difficult situation had done that, but the men he was going to see hadn’t got where they were today though being easily scared.
On the top floor
Sending the lift and guard away, Ithron found himself stood at one end of an elaborately decorated corridor. The royal blue carpet oozed expense, and the paintings on the wall of past Rodian Industrialists oozed arrogance.
Ahead was a wooden door with an engraved pattern on it. Ithron knocked. A guard wearing a similar uniform to the one in the lobby opened it. This one looked tougher – and had a bigger blaster.
Slicing with his saber, he took the guard’s head off and then ran through the door. Here he dispatched another guard who was in the process of pressing an alarm. Stepping over the guard’s body, he deactivated the lock on the Board-Room door. As an afterthought, he also dimmed the lights. Pushing it open he stepped into the center.
He saw twelve exquisitely dressed men. All in tailored suits, all rich. What surprised him was that several were not Rodian. At least one appeared Human. Apart from their status symbol suits, what they all had in common now was a confused expression. It wouldn’t last long before that turned to anger.
“Gentlemen, Hello!”
Ithron was pleasantly surprised to see none of them had asked “How did you get past the guards?”. They had obviously realised that the answer would be no use to them. Nor did they ask who he was – they assumed, correctly, that he would tell them when he felt like it. They just stood and looked at him.
“Please, take a seat. Pour yourselves a drink. I hope you’ll excuse me turning down the lights. We prefer the dark.”
Always keep them guessing, he thought.
“So,” said one of the Rodians, taking a seat with the others with a bemused expression. “What can we do for you? It appears that whoever you are, we are effectively at your mercy, so please. Go on.”
There was a general amused murmur of consensus. Working on the assumption that more guards had been summoned, Ithron continued.
“Gentlemen. Firstly, allow me to introduce myself. I speak for his Imperial Majesty, Daemon Hyfe. I am one of the Sith.” Well, an apprentice anyway. And technically the Sith are the Emperor’s representatives here.
Ithron was glad to see the amused expression vanished from their faces. Some leaned forwards.
“The current state of affairs can no longer be allowed to continue. My colleagues are dealing with the rebellion in the capital.”
Ithron waved his hand expansively, as if to suggest that the capital, for all its use in political rhetoric, wasn’t the issue at hand.
“What has that got to do with us?” A suit spoke out. Others murmured agreement.
That’s how these people speak…..they murmur, Ithron thought. Pathetic.
“Indeed….” Ithron spoke slowly, looking each man in the room in the eyes. Some held his gaze, but others, unnerved by the word ‘Sith’ looked down. “What has It to do with you? Well. Rebellions cost money, and they require resourced. Between the twelve of you, you control the lion’s share of the wealth and resources of the planet Rodia.”
A suit opened its mouth to speak.
“Interrupt me now, and you’ll never speak again.” Ithron said evenly. “You knew about this rebellion. What’s more, you backed both sides here in an attempt to make your corporations the most powerful entities on the planet. Now that’s just my theory. I have no evidence. But guess what? I don’t NEED any…”
He looked around the room. Noone held his gaze. For the effect, he took out his lightsaber and held it, deactivated, in his right hand. Now the hard bit. Using the Force to send waves of dark energy from him, he reached into the consciousness of the suits. He found childhood fears – a child’s fear of the dark that no parental word can allay. He found rich man's fears – fear of losing their vast business empires. He stimulated these fears and spoke again, forcing their minds to where he wanted them. It was like bending metal - starting to change their shape was difficult, but once started it becomes a lot easier.
“The Sith, on behalf of the Empire, are taking over management of Rodia. Your government will answer to us.”
They took the news impassively; each man wrestling with his own inner demons.
“And we will be keeping a very close eye on you. If there are any more ‘incidents’ then my next visit will not be so cordial. You will all die.”
They were broken men. Ithron could sense it in the Force and see it in their eyes. The Dark Side isn’t always about killing. Those men belonged to him now. They would serve the Empire through fear of not doing. And what’s more, they would ensure that everyone they controlled and had influence over fell into line as well.
“Good day to you all.”
Ithron left the building and made his way back to the ship.
“Where did you go? Hiding in the woods as soon as the fighting started?” said an older Knight.
Ithron ignored him. He knew that what he had done, while not visible, would keep Rodia in line longer than the puppet government would.
As the ship lifted off, Ithron couldn’t help feeling envious of the apprentices who had been in the capital. He really hadn’t had to use many Force powers.
That’s what you get with a weak-willed species. He thought. Next time….
IC:
Ithron knew what to do. As soon as Necros indicated that the coast was clear, Ithron walked off the ship. When everyone was discussing plans and setting up base camp, he slipped into the nearby trees and set off – away from the capital city.
The imperials will probably give Master Jas resources, Ithron thought, referring to the Sith Master by his rank even in his mind. What does that mean? Ships? Soldiers? If I know the imperials, they’ll give us less than they think we need.
Just by the conversations on the ship, Ithron knew the intentions of the other Sith – at least in general terms. But as he saw it, they had all missed one important thing. Any Sith, especially the more experienced Knights could easily influence the crowd to install a puppet government in just a few days….
But rebellions aren’t caused by the public, thought Ithron. They’re caused by rich, powerful men in comfortable chairs discussing things calmly. The mob is side-effect, a consequence. The real rebellion happens over a tumbler of whiskey in an entrepreneur’s sitting room…
This was the task that Ithron had appointed himself to do – to find the industrialists who really ran things on Rodia – and ensure their unwavering loyalty to the Sith, and the Empire for now.
Some time later…
Minutes after arriving in a suburb, Ithron was able to find out (mainly through Basic-language news items) that the commerce center on the planet seemed to be a building called the Rodia Trade Facility on another continent. As he stood considering this, he didn’t notice the people scuttle past him and shoot furtive looks at his robes and wondering why he was so calm in the middle of a warzone. He could sense fear everywhere like a haze over the planet.
The transport system was in bad shape and some places, including the capital, were inaccessible. With the help of the Force, though, he managed to find someone willing to fly him there. So far, he had barely used the Force and might just have been a tourist – albeit one in black robes.
Outside the Rodia Trade Facility
The buildings were even more impressive than promised. Built similar in shape to a pyramid, the building was supposed to represent how society worked. The bankers were on the lower floors. As one went up, the average earnings of the population of that floor increased until, eventually, one found oneself on the top floor amount the elite: The richest, most powerful men on Rodia.
Opening the door to the lobby, Ithron was surrounded by activity. There were people running, people scattering papers, and general chaos. Ithron got the impression that everyone knew something – that the imperials had landed, he guessed – but that noone knew enough to be able to think calmly.
Well, he thought. At least it’s mostly happening two feet below my head height….
Using a trick he had seem Master Jas do many times and that he had practiced in private, Ithron gently altered perception in the room so that he, even as the tallest person in the room, remained unnoticed and unmarked. Everyone just assumed he was meant to be there.
Walking up to the elevator, he spotted a guard by the entrance.
“Open this door, and take me right to the top.”
The guard gawped.
“Now!” Ithron continued.
Recovering, the guard grinned. “Very funny, Sir! You had me there for a moment! Top floor indeed!”
The look on Ithron’s face didn’t change and slowly the guard became aware that he wasn’t joking.
“But I can’t ju---“
“Listen. I’m guessing you’ve heard that the Imperials have landed? To put a stop to this little rebellion of yours. I’m a Sith.” He paused to let the word take its full effect. Probably the guard was wondering why he was still alive if the gentleman he had laughed at was a Sith. “My sole aim here is to make sure the rebellion is ended as efficiently as possible, and you can help me by taking me to speak to them.” Ithron pointed to the ceiling. “Of course, if that’s not possible, I’ll have this building cracked open like an oyster.”
Turning to walk away, Ithron slipped a communicator out of his robe and started to tune it to an Imperial frequency. He could feel the guard’s fear. Pathetic.
“3…2….1…” Ithron counted under his breath. Behind him came the sound of the solid elevator door opening.
“Thank you.”
As the doors slid closed and the floor number changed above it, Ithron readied himself for the challenge ahead. He hadn’t even needed the Force to get this far. Ordinary common sense and confidence in a difficult situation had done that, but the men he was going to see hadn’t got where they were today though being easily scared.
On the top floor
Sending the lift and guard away, Ithron found himself stood at one end of an elaborately decorated corridor. The royal blue carpet oozed expense, and the paintings on the wall of past Rodian Industrialists oozed arrogance.
Ahead was a wooden door with an engraved pattern on it. Ithron knocked. A guard wearing a similar uniform to the one in the lobby opened it. This one looked tougher – and had a bigger blaster.
Slicing with his saber, he took the guard’s head off and then ran through the door. Here he dispatched another guard who was in the process of pressing an alarm. Stepping over the guard’s body, he deactivated the lock on the Board-Room door. As an afterthought, he also dimmed the lights. Pushing it open he stepped into the center.
He saw twelve exquisitely dressed men. All in tailored suits, all rich. What surprised him was that several were not Rodian. At least one appeared Human. Apart from their status symbol suits, what they all had in common now was a confused expression. It wouldn’t last long before that turned to anger.
“Gentlemen, Hello!”
Ithron was pleasantly surprised to see none of them had asked “How did you get past the guards?”. They had obviously realised that the answer would be no use to them. Nor did they ask who he was – they assumed, correctly, that he would tell them when he felt like it. They just stood and looked at him.
“Please, take a seat. Pour yourselves a drink. I hope you’ll excuse me turning down the lights. We prefer the dark.”
Always keep them guessing, he thought.
“So,” said one of the Rodians, taking a seat with the others with a bemused expression. “What can we do for you? It appears that whoever you are, we are effectively at your mercy, so please. Go on.”
There was a general amused murmur of consensus. Working on the assumption that more guards had been summoned, Ithron continued.
“Gentlemen. Firstly, allow me to introduce myself. I speak for his Imperial Majesty, Daemon Hyfe. I am one of the Sith.” Well, an apprentice anyway. And technically the Sith are the Emperor’s representatives here.
Ithron was glad to see the amused expression vanished from their faces. Some leaned forwards.
“The current state of affairs can no longer be allowed to continue. My colleagues are dealing with the rebellion in the capital.”
Ithron waved his hand expansively, as if to suggest that the capital, for all its use in political rhetoric, wasn’t the issue at hand.
“What has that got to do with us?” A suit spoke out. Others murmured agreement.
That’s how these people speak…..they murmur, Ithron thought. Pathetic.
“Indeed….” Ithron spoke slowly, looking each man in the room in the eyes. Some held his gaze, but others, unnerved by the word ‘Sith’ looked down. “What has It to do with you? Well. Rebellions cost money, and they require resourced. Between the twelve of you, you control the lion’s share of the wealth and resources of the planet Rodia.”
A suit opened its mouth to speak.
“Interrupt me now, and you’ll never speak again.” Ithron said evenly. “You knew about this rebellion. What’s more, you backed both sides here in an attempt to make your corporations the most powerful entities on the planet. Now that’s just my theory. I have no evidence. But guess what? I don’t NEED any…”
He looked around the room. Noone held his gaze. For the effect, he took out his lightsaber and held it, deactivated, in his right hand. Now the hard bit. Using the Force to send waves of dark energy from him, he reached into the consciousness of the suits. He found childhood fears – a child’s fear of the dark that no parental word can allay. He found rich man's fears – fear of losing their vast business empires. He stimulated these fears and spoke again, forcing their minds to where he wanted them. It was like bending metal - starting to change their shape was difficult, but once started it becomes a lot easier.
“The Sith, on behalf of the Empire, are taking over management of Rodia. Your government will answer to us.”
They took the news impassively; each man wrestling with his own inner demons.
“And we will be keeping a very close eye on you. If there are any more ‘incidents’ then my next visit will not be so cordial. You will all die.”
They were broken men. Ithron could sense it in the Force and see it in their eyes. The Dark Side isn’t always about killing. Those men belonged to him now. They would serve the Empire through fear of not doing. And what’s more, they would ensure that everyone they controlled and had influence over fell into line as well.
“Good day to you all.”
Ithron left the building and made his way back to the ship.
“Where did you go? Hiding in the woods as soon as the fighting started?” said an older Knight.
Ithron ignored him. He knew that what he had done, while not visible, would keep Rodia in line longer than the puppet government would.
As the ship lifted off, Ithron couldn’t help feeling envious of the apprentices who had been in the capital. He really hadn’t had to use many Force powers.
That’s what you get with a weak-willed species. He thought. Next time….
