Bridge of the Reign Class Star Destroyer Indelible Corruption, unknown point in space.

Twitch...

...

...

...

...

...

...

..twitch...

...

...

shudder.

His eyes snapped open, the thick skin around his eyes ceasing to twitch. He had achieved 84.234 basic hours of meditation straight and his body seemed out of control on anything but the mental level which was stimulated beyond belief. Slowly, hazily Lupercus' eyes drifted back into focus, allowing the Sith to take in the sights before him. Men of various statures and styles were before him, some lounging comfortably, others engaging in their own rituals. To Lupercus' eyes they lacked drive. A unifying goal in which their many talents could be brought to bear. The Sith had passed as a force in the galaxy to the eyes of many, the public ridicule of 'Sith Lord' Xilen and the Coalitions exploitation of their victory quickly banishing the pains of Naboo from the minds of many. But there were a few standouts of the bunch who sat in similar positions to Lupercus, men whose powers were honed to deadly perfection. Chikami and Perrin had been meditating as Lupercus had, trying to ascertain why these Sith had all been drawn to this one place.

Banishing the thoughts from his immediate mind, Lupercus looked around the converted recreation room aboard his New Order Flagship. Something had to be done, the Sith had been too long haunting the shadows. Suddenly Lupercus' eyes stopped, his attention diverted by the glint of silver armour. Lupercus' spine tingled.

Janggar, my sweetest kill.

Lupercus rose, fixing his full attention to the now self styled Darth Xion, Shredder of men.

"It would appear Ren, or would you rather i call you Xion, that we have both been drawn here by some darker purpose, some guiding light of impure darkness.

I wax philosophical senselessly, so i will cut to the chase. Will you join in what should be the most unholiest of crusades?"

-/|Reign Class Star Destroyer Indelible Corruption|\-

Chikami sat motionless on the cold steel floor, lost in meditation. He was yet again searching for something, something old yet somehow different. The object, of his search, evaded him as it had so many other times. Chikami was losing his patience for this game of cat and mouse he was playing. Pushing the game aside Chikami's meditation begins to 'feel' different. It is less subdued and calm to more of a fight for survival.

The other Sith in the room could feel the darkside energies begin amassing about the motionless Knight.

Chikami's mind blanked and for a brief moment it would almost seem he had lost to whatever he was fighting. The force was building up inside the Sith Knight.

The force began to form around the meditating form of Chikami. Inky black threads of darkness began to twist and spin about the motionless body. Chikami inhaled deeply taking the inky threads into his body.

The once motionless body began to lift itself off the floor. Hovering two feet above the cold steel Chikami slowly began to leave his meditative state, and by the time he was fully awake he was once again sitting on the floor. He felt rejuvenated, vitalized.

Cracking his neck and knuckles Chikami stands and peers about the room.

At long last, after much waiting, Xion now stood face to face with his Killer . . .the man who brutally murdered him in the heat of battle.

The pair exchanged an icey gaze, each momentarily summing up the other, before Xion responded, his husky voice slithering from behind his breathing apparatus.

"The sith, wherever they are, will allways be drawn to the one constant in this universe, and that my friend is death. If anything, it is what binds and penetrates us and flows from the force. Where death goes, I will be there, wielding its blade.

My men and I will be at the disposal of the dark side for what will be a battle for the ages, I forseen that much.

Timeline: -2 Weeks
Despayre

They shook hands and sat down without saying a word; there were no pleasantries exchanged, no Imperial salutes or discussion of trivial things. Both parties knew what it was they were here to do.

“I trust you’ve reviewed my offer,” Theren began.

“Indeed I have, Mister Gevel, and I must say that I am very pleased by the specifics of it.” The other man nodded gravely, slowly, as if he were even now contemplating his answer. “As you know, every absence of the Jutraalian Empire has given rise to the clan wars. When the prison facilities that once dominated this planet gave way to the rule of the old Rogue Empire, many of my colleagues were dethroned. Many of the prisoners broke into the clans which now war whenever Jutraal recedes from this world.” The man’s name was Tiarn Maal, and he had been a high-ranking governmental official when Despayre had been an Imperial prison world. The fall of the old Empire and the rise of the Rogue Empire on the world had resulted in Maal’s flight underground, out of easy sight of the invaders. He would have both the money and connections with clan leaders that the Empire required.

“Indeed,” Theren said in a measured tone. Of course, he knew all of this already; he had deeply reviewed the history of Despayre. “Since the return of Fearsons and his ‘empire’, I have no doubt that many of the clan leaders have been most disappointed at their own fall from power.”

“Yes.”

“And you have ways of contacting most of them?”

“Yes.”

“Good. As you know, the Empire has a great interest in Despayre. Fearsons is a counterfeit emperor and his government is likewise illegitimate. The Regent will no longer tolerate his presence on what should be a sovereign Imperial world.” Theren sat back, looking around the dark, dingy office. “Mr. Maal, I’m not held in the… highest respect, within the Empire. That’s why I’m here. I don’t give a shit about associating with the clans, or about using subversion over force. I don’t have any honor to protect. Chadd Fearsons is a rebel sympathizer and a fucking traitor, and he will be dealt with – by any means necessary.”

Tiarn Maal smiled. “Yes, I quite agree with you, Mr. Gevel.”

“Now, then,” Theren continued. “To business. You will use your remaining monetary assets to gather together the surviving leaders of at least two prominent clans. I don’t give a damn how much they hate each other – pay them until they love one another. The Empire will compensate your losses.”

“Why not just pay me up front?”

“The Empire can’t divert credits into banks on this world – it’s impossible. And against policy to fund a foreign national, which you now are.” Theren smirked. “But, my recent conquests have made fairly wealthy. A number of corporations in the Senex sector have been nationalized by the Senex Confederacy, which is technically a subsidiary of the Empire and won’t raise any red flags with Jutraalian banks. I think you’ll find that whenever you have need of capital, it will be there, transferred from businesses you may or may not have ever heard of. Your wealth should keep suspicions about why you seem to be finding yourself in such endless supply of money.”

“Excellent.”

“The money should trickle down through the remnants of these old clans, most of which have gone underground and become crime agencies or the like, all for the price of loyalty when the time is right. Distribute it to your fellow former Imperials, and ensure that they use their resources to do the same. Inform them of the deal if you have to, I don’t really give a shit how you do it.”

Tiarn nodded. “Agreed.”



Timeline: Present
RSD Zenith

Tornel shifted uneasily. “I don’t like working with these Sith. They’re not trustworthy, and they’re not Imperial. Their only fealty is to themselves.”

“Be that as it may,” Theren replied, “they’re here to stay, and they’re useful for the moment. You’ve been in contact with Maal?”

“Yes. He says he’s as ready as ever. They’ve distributed propaganda to the lowlifes and former clan members of the world, paying the leaders off as needed, having their thugs force others into servitude of this movement – relatively unknown to the Jutraalians. Mostly the same operation as Karfeddion, spread over a wider time period.”

“Yeah,” Theren agreed. “Hopefully, this will work just as well.”

Lupercus nodded solemnly, glad to be paid due reverence by someone who could have easily contended Lupercus' leadership of the party. Turning, he made his way slowly towards where he had been meditating, his position slightly raised above that of the others.

From there he spoke, his words resounding through the hallways through some forcebound parlour trick, inciting the Sith around him into an orgy of feverous hatred towards anything and everything. The speech was royally elloquent, and yet primally emotive, awakening desires in the Sith that had been dormant for far too long. 11 minutes later the speech was drawn to an abrupt and fiery conclusion, Lupercus' words focusing on the disgusting rebirth of the Shadow Jedi culture, and that it was their perogative to act now, and strike down the entity before it could grow any further. Already the Sith were chaffing at the bit, their fervour rising above Lupercus' control as curses were rained down on the Shadows client empire, the Jutraalians, and its Shadow Jedi leader.

Smiling to himself, Lupercus could feel the dark energy flowing through the room. He paused, breathing deeply and seeming to absorb the electricity that was in the air. With great relish, Lupercus removed a comlink from his belt and activated it, hailing the Captain.

"Prepare my personal ship for launch with a crew of around 10. The New Order of Naboo Sith has formed, and its time the galaxy remembered that even in the shadows, noone can hide from us.

Signal the Fleet, we are ready to begin."

Grand Admiral Logan tugged at his uncomfortable solid black uniform, trying to get it into place. It was early morning on Despayre and Logan was just about to head up to the bridge. He looked up from the mirror as the comm sounded.

"Sir" A voice said from the speaker, the captain, "Perhaps you should come to the bridge. We have received several...disturbing reports of activity from the planet"

"On my way" Logan said, straightening his uniform for a final time before heading out of his quarters to the turbolift.

Despayre had been an unimportant Imperial prison colony before the Battle of Yavin. As the plans for the first Death Star moved out of the developmental stage and into the construction stage, the Empire needed a place to build the battlemoon, a place where it could be safely hidden away from the the up-and-coming Rebel Alliance. The Imperial prisoners who were incarcerated at the Despayre Penal Colony were forced into constructing the superweapon. After it had been completed the prisoners were returned to the surface to live out the remainder of their lives, rotting away in prison. More recently it had served as the capital of the Rouge Empire. Logan smiled as he remembered that he had once commanded a fleet with the intention of levelling the world.

Now he was commanding a fleet with the intention of protecting the world. Ironic.


He arrived on the bridge and stepped out of the turbolift. The captain of the Unholy Trinity, Xychu Marx, turned from the console he had been looking at and to Logan.

"Grand Admiral on the bridge!" He shouted and the entire bridge crew snapped to rigid attention.

The irony of the situation was never lossed on Logan.

He had spent millions of credits years ago to ensure the downfall of the Rogue Empire.

The very same empire he was serving now.

"As you were" Logan said so all could hear him and walked down the steps to the lower portion of the bridge and joined Captain Marx, who saluted him.

Logan retured the salute, "What do you have, captain?"

"Just a few sketchy reports of certain...groups of people arming themselves" Marx told him.

"What 'groups of people'?" Logan asked.

"We are not completely sure. But it appears like large groups of people are arming themselves"

"Humans?"

"We do not know" Marx replied.

"How did you get this information?" Logan asked.

"We have been investigating rumors of groups of people or tribes that have been hiding on Despayre, possibly leftovers from the Imperial Penal colony. They are secretive and mysterious. Emperor Fearsons ordered units to search for these people and send the aid. We have had speeder bike and airspeeder units looking for them ever since we reclaimed Despayre but so far have received sketchy reports at best" Marx replied.

"Well if you have been having trouble finding them then how do you know that they are arming themselves?" Logan asked.

"An airspeeder was doing a flyby of the northern continent, and reported seeing a large group of people with what appeared to be weapons making their way to a chain of mountains. He reported being fired upon and then we lost contact with the airspeeder.
We have been receiving similar reports from different areas across Despayre."


"That doesn't sound right" Logan mused, rubbing his jaw.

"Shall I order a hightened state of security?" Marx asked.

"Not yet. Inform all military installations of possible attack. They are to increase security around sensitive areas. This could simply be falsified information, or ghosts. Nevertheless increase air activity, I want to know just what is going on" Logan said.

He continued to rub his jaw as he turned to look out at the stars.

Somthing doesn't feel right.

His eyes were hazy but snapped quickly back into focus as voices chirped distantly and insistantly. The cords on his neck tightened slightly as he cocked his head to the side, peering out at the door which lay slightly ajar. As Lupercus grew more in focus, the noise rose slowly but steadily until a cacophany assaulted the Prince with such force that he was compelled to move.

Sliding off the bed, his feet quickly slipped into shoes as he reached for a white shirt. Passing a mirror as the shirt was buttoned, Lupercus paused for a second, making small adjustments. He wanted everything to be perfect for his big day!

Smirking in self satisfaction, Lupercus strode purposefully out the nearby door and stepped into the main living area of the luxury yacht. The other sith lounged around, but wore looks of determination that seemed etched in their living souls, as if they were living out the lives of warriors long gone.

Only these warriors would leaving nothing for anyone to return to...

"We have reversion in 3...

2...

1..." the flash stars reverting to realspace remained an exilerating experience for Lupercus, despite the jaded response from the Sith, "Your Majesty? Maintaining course behind a Jutraalian Commerce Ship and we have maintained our anonimity. They look set to clear customs soon and judging by their cargo manifest, they have to unload on planet. Which means we have our opening..."

Lupercus nodded moving quickly through the living quarters of the modified luxury yacht to the bridge where the two Hapan Acolytes were.

"We continue as planned, maintain cloak and land on planet."

He looked out the veiwport at the massive destroyer that floated above them, also revealing that where they would land would be night, as the sun began to disappear behind the prison planets crust. Focusing, Lupercus also took in the fleet positionings to the best of his reckoning, happy to notice that the fleet would be getting a good scrap in today.

And hopefully i might finds somones scraps to play with.

Lupercus turned and walked back into the living area, immediately calling everyones attention.

"We are about to enter the planetary sheild. Wreak havoc and let the blood of the Shadow Jedi be spilt tonight!"



Bridge of the Reign Class Star Destroyer Indelible Corruption, in hyperspace.

"Commodore Zukhovsky, we have begun reversion..."

The ensign hadn't needed to have informed the flag officer of the situation, the twisting starbursts returning to realspace shapes was proof enough to the savy Coruscanti naval officer of what was happening. Before him lay Despayre, former capital of the Rogue Empire.

"Shields up, launching fighters, weapons charged. Wolfpack advanced to skirmish screen positions. Its about time we gave some back to those wannabe Imperials!"

The line was scripted but well received, pilots scrambling to reach their craft in time.

(OOC:Fleet Manifest

1 Reign Class Star Destroyer - Indelible Hatred
3 Carrack-Class Light Cruisers
1 Fire-Class Light Frigate
12 Shroud-Class Attack Cruisers
2 Constrainer-Class Interdiction Pickets

36 TIE Defenders
12 TIE Phantoms
12 TIE Interceptors
36 Scimitar Assault Bombers

"Admiral Logan" A junior officer said from the starboard crewpit. Logan turned to the officer.

"Yes?"

"Sir, Search Team Eight reports finding several armed groups of people announcing anti-Jutraalian propaganda. They have captured several insugents" The junior officer said.

"Interesting. Have the insurgents interrogated. I want results" Logan told the junior officer, who instantly saluted and spun around to relay that order to the ground.

Logan slowly walked to the front of the bridge, deep in thought.
Fact 1. Several groups of people, suddenly rise up out of hiding places, begin spouting propaganda and begins arming themselves for...what?

Fact 2. The insurgents make absolutely no demands, as normal terrorists would do.

So they must have been provoked...but by whom?

"Sir, team eight has reported already interrogating the captives, they did so as soon as the insurgents were in custody."

"Good" Logan said, walking down the short flight of stairs to the crew pit to stand next to the junior officer.

"Sir, the preliminary report is coming through now. It is labeled as 'for your eyes only'"

"Relay it to my datapad" Logan ordered and the officer leaned over to tap a few keys.

Instantly the text began to scroll across Logan's datapad screen. He read the short report, and frowned. The captives were threatened with life in a Jutraal prison camp if they did not talk. They cracked, easily.

Somone from offworld had payed of several warlords, ex-convicts from the old Imperial prison camps, used in the construction of the first Death Star. The captives did not know who payed off the warlords, but they did know what they were payed to do. Someone wanted the Jutraal Empire's attention focused on the rebellions on Despayre...but for what?

"Sir! There are several contacts entering the system! They are giving off Imperial signalls!"

Logan spun around and ran up the stairs to the main deck to look out the forward viewports. There was indeed. Lots of them.

"Damn Imperials! Logan spat, then whilred back to the junior officer.

"I want all forces to prepare for a rebel uprising on Despayre. I want those warlords captured and if any of them attackes, they are to be crushed, am I understood?" He said.

"Y-yes sir. I can do it" The officer said, spinning back to his console and begining to shout orders in the commlink.

Logan turned to his battle coordinator.

"Order the fleet to into position, Twilight Gunships in a screen formation. All other ships are to pick a target and engage whn in range. I want the fleet to move out and engage the Empire halfway, I want them as far away as possible from Despayre. Also, scramble our fighters. They are to form up along with the Twilights in a screen formation"

The fleet began to move after a few moments. They had been well trained. Logan turned the the bridge crew of his own ship, the Unholy Trinity. "Come about, on a heading of three-two-eight mark one-one-five. All ships are to form up in a standard formation with the Twilight gunships running interference. Also, jamm all of the Empire's long-distance transmissions. They are to get nothing out of the system." Logan said, turning to watch as the two fleets headed towards each other.

Here it comes Logan thought to himself.


OOC: Fleet Manifest

Allegiance-Class Super Star Destroyer- Unholy Trinity
1 Defender-class Star Destroyer
1 Victory-class Star Destroyer
2 Carrack-class Cruisers
1 Nebulan-C class Frigate
2 Lancer-class Frigates
1 Interdictor Cruiser
1 Grappler-Class Interdictor Battlecruiser
1 Warrior-class Gunship
16 Twilight-class Gunships

Fighters

72 Chiss Clawcraft
120 Tie Interceptors
12 Skipray Blastboats
36 Scimtar Assault Bombers

Ground Forces (On Despayre)

15 million Soldiers
85 Clonetrooper Gunships
100 AT-ATs
10 AT-XTs

Perrin's eyes held no emotion, the member of the Naboo Sith Order remaining very quiet.

He felt it ... like a rush of tiny pin-prick stabs along the back of his neck.

Something was taking place without him... something of importance.

Something not having to do with what was going on now. His mind began to focus on the task at hand.

Not a terribly important task but one that their leader felt needed doing. It happened every time some Jedi (no matter whether they considered themselves true, rogue or shadow) felt themselves more important than they actually were. It happened every time one of them felt that the galaxy actually pivoted on the ineffective actions of those dying few.

Ever since the assault on Naboo, Perrin used his newfound respect for the ancient sith knowledge to his benefit by taking in everything he could get his hands on.

The abandonment of Xa'Fel was a blow to TNSO as an organization but held little consequence to the members in general.

Scattering among the population of Coruscant, now Imperial Center, was a liberating experience for it was the second time Perrin had visited the decaying planet.

Speaking of decaying planets, the Sith looked out over this world called Despayre and felt.... nothing.

This world was meaningless to him. The people.. meaningless.

Their hopes and dreams would be play things to the Sith.


His eyes looked faraway as he felt something distant.. something dark.. and his mind held curiosity for a moment.

..and then anger began to form.. a dark anger.

The dark side of the force was no longer whispering to him.. it was sceaming... shouting..


The future was hanging in the balance and here we are hunting cattle.

Perrin's eyes drifted to his lightsaber.

Well, there was always time for a little slaughter.

OOC: Hey Logan, here's a novel idea; actually read my posts. And let me add: you capture half a dozen idiots, and suddenly you mobilize the entire planet for a rebel uprising? Interesting.

Theren Gevel silently inspected the report, tossing it aside after a moment. "Who gives a fuck?"

Tornel shrugged.

"I don't remember ordering anyone to distribute propaganda," Theren said. "Just who is it that the Jutraalians think they have? The head of the organization? Idiots."

Tornel shrugged again. "The prisoners they captured were right-wing extremists, only loosely affiliated with Tiarn Maal's organization. Apparently, they were part of a conservative group known as the 'DLF', or Despayrian Liberation Front. Whatever they may know about our plans or Maal's actions would have been either little to nothing, or highly distorted. In all likelihood, they're under the impression that former convicts or clan warlords are in charge of this operation."

Theren shook his head. The underground bunker had been hastily constructed by Tiarn Maal's men, below one of the more moderately-sized cities of Despayre; the room the two Imperial officers inhabited was little more than four duracrete walls. But outside the door, throughout the honeycombing facilities of the bunker, scurried thousands of men like rats.

These men, Theren reflected, really held no loyalty to their 'clans'. While at one point, they'd been willing to fight and die for them, now the resided (and prepared to battle) with friend and foe alike with little hesitation. They lived only to fight, and whoever that fight may have been with was irrelevant.

"Send out the order to prepare to mobilize," Theren said. "Encrypted, through holonet backchannels, as we rehearsed." Even with the encryption, the message would be innocent in appearance; something about a blue milk run. It was one of a million flowing through a planetary system of datalinks.

Tornel nodded, hitting a button on his datapad. All over the planet, men would be getting in position, preparing to strike on the order of Theren Gevel.