iAmJimmyHoffa
Servant of Morgoth
- Location
- New York
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Star Wars -- ASHES OF THE EMPIRE
- Thread starter iAmJimmyHoffa
- Start date
- IC Sci-Fi
-
- Tags
- everybody dies
iAmJimmyHoffa
Servant of Morgoth
- Location
- New York
TABLE of CONTENTS
UPDATES
Mini: A Message from the Emperor
Mini: A Question of Loyalty
Mini: A House Divided
Early 4 ABY
Mini: A Change of Scenery
Mini: A Fatal Drive
STATS
Early 4 ABY
Late 4 ABY
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STATS: Early 4 ABY
iAmJimmyHoffa
Servant of Morgoth
- Location
- New York
The Galaxy in early 4 ABY
Galactic Empire
Grand Vizier Sate Pestage
Government
Government type: Imperial regency
Capital: Imperial Center (Coruscant)
Systems: 320
Internal stability: 4
Fleet
Executor SSDs: 5
Imperial SDs: 361
Victory SDs: 245
Venator SDs: 20
you may now IC.
PLEASE KEEP IN MIND that "warlordposting" is forbidden until the mini goes up. Until then, everyone is to assume that the Emperor and Vader are still alive and the Rebellion is about to be destroyed at Endor. Warlordposting before the mini will result in an immediate k&b
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- Location
- New York
Venis
Warlord of the Empire, High Admiral of the Northern Command, and Grand Moff of the Outer Rim (Obtrexta Sector)
Commanding Officer of the Gloriana (Executor-class Super Star Destroyer)
Lady Valeria Venis
Admiral of the Imperial Navy
Commanding Officer of the Pale Rider (Imperial-class Star Destroyer)
Commanding Officer of the Reign of Terror (Imperial-class Star Destroyer)
Deceased
Deceased
Killed-in-Action
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- Location
- the Republic
- Pronouns
- He/They
Ciutric Sector Headquarters, Ciutric IV
Office of the Moff
Moff's Personal Schedule - PRIVATE
Office of the Moff
Moff's Personal Schedule - PRIVATE
500 - Moff's wake-up call
630 - Moff arrives in office
700 - Private briefing with Sector Chief of Intelligence
830 - Daily agenda with Chief of Staff
930 - Executive briefing with department heads
1030 - Private briefing with Sector Chief of Naval Construction
1100 - Lunch
1200 - Yearly executive inspection of Ciutric shipyards
1500 - Ribbon-cutting ceremony at new COMPNOR intake center
1630 - Q&A session with local COMPNOR committee
1800 - Final briefing with Chief of Staff
1900 - End of day
2100 - Moff leaves office
(MINI) A Message from the Emperor
iAmJimmyHoffa
Servant of Morgoth
- Location
- New York
As you tend to your duties in your study, you receive a message of great importance. You accept it and the holotransceiver thrums to life. Before you is the visage of His Imperial Majesty the Emperor. You would be lying to yourself if you did not feel a hint of love, of contempt, of respect, and of fear.
"My most loyal moffs and admirals, I contact you now as the greatest hour in the history of our Empire approaches. My plan has unfolded exactly as I have foreseen, and the final destruction of the Alliance is but moments away. All that remains is the proper execution of the plan by the finest armada the galaxy as ever known.
"The power of the Empire cannot fail us now. We have secured a great many victories in the name of peace, justice, and order. We have achieved wonders and have done immense good in the name of galactic prosperity. The pitiful band of naysayers arrayed against us -- this 'Rebel Alliance,'" he spat the words in mocking tone, "will be totally crushed beneath our feet. A new era of history is before us.
"As I await the destruction of our enemies with Lord Vader over Endor, my previous orders remain. Though I have not left Imperial Center for some time, I expect nothing to change. The laws are to be upheld as they always have been. Our New Order shall remain the greatest and only guarantor of peace and stability. I have entrusted you with the tools by which this Empire may be maintained, and I know that these tools are being wielded wisely and as I have hoped.
"The day we have long awaited is at hand. Long live the New Order!"
His form fades into nothingness. You find that you had been holding your breath for the entire duration of his speaking; you finally take a breath, ruminating on his words and the importance of what would be happening over Endor very soon.
You cannot quite explain it, but there is a sinking feeling in your stomach: as if the scales have finally tipped, and that nothing will ever again be as it was.
"My most loyal moffs and admirals, I contact you now as the greatest hour in the history of our Empire approaches. My plan has unfolded exactly as I have foreseen, and the final destruction of the Alliance is but moments away. All that remains is the proper execution of the plan by the finest armada the galaxy as ever known.
"The power of the Empire cannot fail us now. We have secured a great many victories in the name of peace, justice, and order. We have achieved wonders and have done immense good in the name of galactic prosperity. The pitiful band of naysayers arrayed against us -- this 'Rebel Alliance,'" he spat the words in mocking tone, "will be totally crushed beneath our feet. A new era of history is before us.
"As I await the destruction of our enemies with Lord Vader over Endor, my previous orders remain. Though I have not left Imperial Center for some time, I expect nothing to change. The laws are to be upheld as they always have been. Our New Order shall remain the greatest and only guarantor of peace and stability. I have entrusted you with the tools by which this Empire may be maintained, and I know that these tools are being wielded wisely and as I have hoped.
"The day we have long awaited is at hand. Long live the New Order!"
His form fades into nothingness. You find that you had been holding your breath for the entire duration of his speaking; you finally take a breath, ruminating on his words and the importance of what would be happening over Endor very soon.
You cannot quite explain it, but there is a sinking feeling in your stomach: as if the scales have finally tipped, and that nothing will ever again be as it was.
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Hyvelic
Slightly Insane Tactical Genius
- Location
- Off in a Library Somewhere
Avere Grayingr, Commodore of Defense Fleet over Ord Mantell
Aboard his Flagship, An Iron Fist, An Imperial II-class Star Destroyer
The Ord Mantell system was by no means important outside of its position. It did not have any shipyards for production of more ships for the Empire. It had no unique resources that would help it stand out in the vast galaxy. It would be more of a demerit if it were not for one simple fact. It is the point where the Celanon Spur and the Entralla Route meet, these two things were the sole reason the Empire felt the need to position a fleet here in our moment of glory. Of course, it wasn't supposed to be known what was currently ongoing, at least to the majority of the population. The normal force at Ord Mantell was diminished slightly, and while I may not be able to go on the offensive against the malcontents and pirates I loathed so much, I could stand guard and do my duty.
I will obey the orders I am given like a good officer, for in our moment of glory, even if there is no glory handed out to me for my thankless task, it is worth it. To see true order finally descend around the galaxy was worth gaining nothing. After so long of violence, war, oppression, and a great deal of tragedy, a new era will finally come to the loyal and deserving. Perhaps after this Rebellion is crushed I will be given orders to crush the Hutts, a wonderful daydream to be sure, I anticipate the glorious removal of their cancer from our sides. The great Emperor Palpatine truly deserves his Empire for everything he has done.
The Greatest leader the galaxy has seen, his plans are beyond my position to question, but I eagerly wait to carry them out, for when the Emperor finally reaches the end of his plan, everything will be clear, we will stand united, strong, and unchallenged for the next hundred years. I fear for what may happen after he ages and falls under the cruel entity that dictates when we all will die known as time. He will grow old and wither away leaving behind so many grateful officers, civilians, and an unmatched legacy.
As I celebrate I feel a dark cloud take over my mind. I wonder if others would attempt the foolish deeds of going against the Empire like the current imbeciles are. Why don't they understand that the Empire is the entity we need. I cannot understand how or why they would, the Empire is for everyone, even if they don't deserve it and want to cause only pain and suffering to everyone around them. Is life without the Empire so good? I want to shout at them, I want to point out the last few decades of corruption, villainy, war, bloodshed, and agony to them, I want to ask if that is what they want to return to. With the Empire comes Order, Peace, Security. Without it there is only pain, the Hutts would march around unchallenged as they corrupt the chosen leaders of what the failure of a rebellion would have ruled them.
I shake my head clear of that thought and return to making sure the system is secure of all influences. I am somewhat grateful that Grand Moff Vanko is currently away from the system at the orders of the Emperor himself. I hope one day be in his position and to obey the Emperor's orders personally, but that day is far from now. For now, I must defend this system, I will be the head of defense for the immediate region for a few days more as the mop-up of the dead commences. I must be ready to act in a moments notice to destroy, crush, and obliterate the corrupted Hutt-Pawns that seek to get rich from the suffering of the people.
If they dare show their faces here I will show them their place. I learned young that power is mostly a matter of making the right corpses at the right time. and what better time than when the sector is at it's lowest, at least until our armies return to their stations in preparation to enforce our rule. Doubt is the mother of failure, and I do not doubt that we will win in the coming years, the Imperial banner will be flying high and proud on every planet, in every city by the end of the next decade. I relish the thought and feel joy flow through me. I smile a smile I have never smiled before. Is this what it is like to be truly happy? To be content? The allure of success after so many years of hard work and the reward of a job well done? I could stand to feel this more, perhaps I should reward my crew with leave once the good news comes in. Emperor knows they deserve a chance to celebrate the victory before the hard part comes, killing the Hutts, destroying everything they stand for, and watch with glee as their little bubble of the galaxy is destroyed so utterly that not even dust remains.
I will stand amidst their burnt carcasses and smile at the retribution they suffer for everything they have done. After a moment I think that perhaps I should find a hobby for when I retire from the Empire. Maybe Pazaak or training the next wave of loyal Imperial officers? Yes, that could work wonderfully. Sitting back I relax and wait. I wait for the good news, the Rebellion is crushed, the Emperor has attained victory over the fools who stand against the bulwark against terror. Any moment now, I just need to wait and celebrate with everyone else for our glorious defeat of the failure of an entity that sought to overthrow everything the galaxy should dream of becoming. Any Moment the Empire will forget the existence of these terrorists, the beginning of the end for the Hutts, and my joyous retirement years down the line for my service to the Empire.
I will obey the orders I am given like a good officer, for in our moment of glory, even if there is no glory handed out to me for my thankless task, it is worth it. To see true order finally descend around the galaxy was worth gaining nothing. After so long of violence, war, oppression, and a great deal of tragedy, a new era will finally come to the loyal and deserving. Perhaps after this Rebellion is crushed I will be given orders to crush the Hutts, a wonderful daydream to be sure, I anticipate the glorious removal of their cancer from our sides. The great Emperor Palpatine truly deserves his Empire for everything he has done.
The Greatest leader the galaxy has seen, his plans are beyond my position to question, but I eagerly wait to carry them out, for when the Emperor finally reaches the end of his plan, everything will be clear, we will stand united, strong, and unchallenged for the next hundred years. I fear for what may happen after he ages and falls under the cruel entity that dictates when we all will die known as time. He will grow old and wither away leaving behind so many grateful officers, civilians, and an unmatched legacy.
As I celebrate I feel a dark cloud take over my mind. I wonder if others would attempt the foolish deeds of going against the Empire like the current imbeciles are. Why don't they understand that the Empire is the entity we need. I cannot understand how or why they would, the Empire is for everyone, even if they don't deserve it and want to cause only pain and suffering to everyone around them. Is life without the Empire so good? I want to shout at them, I want to point out the last few decades of corruption, villainy, war, bloodshed, and agony to them, I want to ask if that is what they want to return to. With the Empire comes Order, Peace, Security. Without it there is only pain, the Hutts would march around unchallenged as they corrupt the chosen leaders of what the failure of a rebellion would have ruled them.
I shake my head clear of that thought and return to making sure the system is secure of all influences. I am somewhat grateful that Grand Moff Vanko is currently away from the system at the orders of the Emperor himself. I hope one day be in his position and to obey the Emperor's orders personally, but that day is far from now. For now, I must defend this system, I will be the head of defense for the immediate region for a few days more as the mop-up of the dead commences. I must be ready to act in a moments notice to destroy, crush, and obliterate the corrupted Hutt-Pawns that seek to get rich from the suffering of the people.
If they dare show their faces here I will show them their place. I learned young that power is mostly a matter of making the right corpses at the right time. and what better time than when the sector is at it's lowest, at least until our armies return to their stations in preparation to enforce our rule. Doubt is the mother of failure, and I do not doubt that we will win in the coming years, the Imperial banner will be flying high and proud on every planet, in every city by the end of the next decade. I relish the thought and feel joy flow through me. I smile a smile I have never smiled before. Is this what it is like to be truly happy? To be content? The allure of success after so many years of hard work and the reward of a job well done? I could stand to feel this more, perhaps I should reward my crew with leave once the good news comes in. Emperor knows they deserve a chance to celebrate the victory before the hard part comes, killing the Hutts, destroying everything they stand for, and watch with glee as their little bubble of the galaxy is destroyed so utterly that not even dust remains.
I will stand amidst their burnt carcasses and smile at the retribution they suffer for everything they have done. After a moment I think that perhaps I should find a hobby for when I retire from the Empire. Maybe Pazaak or training the next wave of loyal Imperial officers? Yes, that could work wonderfully. Sitting back I relax and wait. I wait for the good news, the Rebellion is crushed, the Emperor has attained victory over the fools who stand against the bulwark against terror. Any moment now, I just need to wait and celebrate with everyone else for our glorious defeat of the failure of an entity that sought to overthrow everything the galaxy should dream of becoming. Any Moment the Empire will forget the existence of these terrorists, the beginning of the end for the Hutts, and my joyous retirement years down the line for my service to the Empire.
PringleDingle
The best a chip can be.
- Location
- California, US
Holo-screens all over the city flickered to life as the Planetary Governor's annual address drew nearer, the sounds of holo-dramas, and popular talk shows suddenly replaced by the recognizably Imperial Denon News Network theme. Undoubtedly this interruption of regularly scheduled broadcasts elicited a multitude of sighs from the Denonian audiences, but nonetheless they watched on, albeit without much choice in the matter. The screen displayed live video footage of the Denonian skyline, brightly lit buildings decorated with massive banners of red and black, bearing the symbol of the Empire, towering high into the cloudy night sky. A black and blue chyron displayed the message: "Planetary Governor Tratum Addresses Denon", an Imperial crest dominating the middle of the screen, flanked by the letters, "DNN" on either side.
After a few moments the music was cut, and the video feed switched to a new locale, this time outside the headquarters of the planetary government. Standing behind a podium, dressed in his standard issue olive drab uniform, was Cevius Tratum, Planetary Governor of Denon. Over the past twenty-three years he has delivered countless speeches, but despite his experience, his heart still thumped in his chest when he stood before the masses of people, and swarms of camera droids. Today, however, his usual anxiety was tinged with pride, today he announced that his fifteen year-long project to ensure the safety of Denon was finally coming to a close; and as an added bonus, he had just received word that the detestable rebel scum that had caused the Galactic Empire so much trouble over the past two decades was on the verge of utter defeat. Today would be a good day.
"Men and women of Denon, proud citizens of the Galactic Empire," He began, the speakers from which his voice boomed lending his words a tinny ring. "Fifteen years ago I began a project to fortify this glorious planet, to ensure that it would never fall into rebel hands. Today I'm proud to announce that the Planetary Defense Initiative is nearing its final stages, soon Denon will be impenetrable to any form of assault." The crowd erupted into violent applause, the cheering, clapping, and shouts of approval lasting for quite a while before finally being silenced by a wave of the Governor's hand. "I am also pleased to inform you that I have received word from the Emperor, that he, and our grand imperial military, are mere hours from finally cleansing the galaxy of the blighted Rebel Alliance." This provoked even louder, bloodthirsty shouts of approval, the ground and buildings around them shuddered at the roar. Cevius beamed with pride, "Today marks a new age, not just for our planet, but for the entire galaxy; a new golden age, one which our glorious Emperor has toiled to provide to us, and which I am glad to be able to lead you into." The roar began again, and this time he knew he could do nothing to stop it, instead, finishing his short, but effective speech by throwing his voice into the tumult: "Glory to the Emperor! Glory to the Galactic Empire!" With that he turned from the podium, and marched off stage, an escort of stormtroopers following close behind him, the raucous sounds of the crowd ever present as he departs, the galaxy teetering on the edge of change.
- Location
- the Republic
- Pronouns
- He/They
Imperial Navy, Office of Personnel
Personnel Record - Sett Varian
Birth - [63 BBY]*Personnel Record - Sett Varian
Commissioned, Cadet, Anaxes War College - [46 BBY]
Graduated (Honors), Anaxes War College - [42 BBY]
Commissioned, Midshipman, Corulag Planetary Defense Force - [41 BBY]
Assigned, Carrack-class light cruiser Strident - [41 BBY]
Commissioned, Ensign, Corulag Planetary Defense Force - [40 BBY]
Assigned, Deputy Tactical Officer, Dreadnaught-class heavy cruiser Leviathan - [40 BBY]
Commissioned, Lieutenant, Corulag Planetary Defense Force - [39 BBY]
Assigned, Tactical Officer, Dreadnaught-class heavy cruiser Leviathan - [39 BBY]
Assigned, Executive Officer, Carrack-class light cruiser Gallant - [37 BBY]
Served, Conflict at Brentaal IV - [33 BBY]
Assigned, Executive Officer, Carrack-class light cruiser Gallant - [37 BBY]
Served, Conflict at Brentaal IV - [33 BBY]
Commissioned, Commander, Republic Judicial Forces - [32 BBY]
Assigned, Commanding Officer, Carrack-class light cruiser Adamant - [32 BBY]
Served, Outer Rim Peacekeeping - [31 BBY]
Served, Outer Rim Peacekeeping - [31 BBY]
Commissioned, Captain, Corulag Planetary Defense Force - [24 BBY]
Assigned, Commanding Officer, Dreadnaught-class heavy cruiser Behemoth - [24 BBY]
Served, Blockade of Cato Neimoidia - [22 BBY]
Served, Blockade of Cato Neimoidia - [22 BBY]
Commissioned, Line Captain, Republic Navy - [22 BBY]
Assigned, Commanding Officer, Acclamator-class assault ship Equalizer - [22 BBY]
Served, Battle of Merson - [22 BBY]
Served, Battle of Zaadja - [22 BBY]
Assigned, Flag Captain, Venator-class Star Destroyer Resolute - [22 BBY]
Served, Battle of Bothawui - [22 BBY]
Served, Battle of Ryloth - [22 BBY]
Served, Second Battle of Geonosis - [22 BBY]
Served, Battle of Sullust - [22 BBY]
Served, Battle of Merson - [22 BBY]
Served, Battle of Zaadja - [22 BBY]
Assigned, Flag Captain, Venator-class Star Destroyer Resolute - [22 BBY]
Served, Battle of Bothawui - [22 BBY]
Served, Battle of Ryloth - [22 BBY]
Served, Second Battle of Geonosis - [22 BBY]
Served, Battle of Sullust - [22 BBY]
Commissioned, Rear Admiral, Republic Navy - [21 BBY]
Assigned, 44th Destroyer Squadron, Open Circle Fleet - [21 BBY]
Assigned, Flag Officer, Venator-class Star Destroyer Impetuous - [21 BBY]
Served, Battle of Mon Calamari - [21 BBY]
Served, Battle of Umbara - [21 BBY]
Served, Battle of Kiros - [21 BBY]
Served, Battle of Rendili - [20 BBY]
Served, Battle of Cato Neimoidia - [20 BBY]
Served, Battle of Coruscant - [19 BBY]
Assigned, Flag Officer, Venator-class Star Destroyer Impetuous - [21 BBY]
Served, Battle of Mon Calamari - [21 BBY]
Served, Battle of Umbara - [21 BBY]
Served, Battle of Kiros - [21 BBY]
Served, Battle of Rendili - [20 BBY]
Served, Battle of Cato Neimoidia - [20 BBY]
Served, Battle of Coruscant - [19 BBY]
Commissioned, Vice Admiral, Imperial Navy - [19 BBY]
Assigned, 21st Destroyer Squadron, Outer Rim Fleet - [19 BBY]
Assigned, Flag Officer, Victory-class Star Destroyer Predator - [19 BBY]
Served, Reconquest of the Rim - [19 BBY]
Served, Pacification of Kashyyyk - [19 BBY]
Served, Ciutric Offensive - [19 BBY]
Served, Noolian Crisis - [18 BBY]
Served, Western Reaches Operation - [17 BBY]
Assigned, Flag Officer, Victory-class Star Destroyer Predator - [19 BBY]
Served, Reconquest of the Rim - [19 BBY]
Served, Pacification of Kashyyyk - [19 BBY]
Served, Ciutric Offensive - [19 BBY]
Served, Noolian Crisis - [18 BBY]
Served, Western Reaches Operation - [17 BBY]
Commissioned, Admiral, Imperial Navy - [15 BBY]
Assigned, Head of Tactical Department, Anaxes Imperial War College - [15 BBY]
Assigned, Vice-Commandant, Anaxes Imperial War College - [11 BBY]
Assigned, Commandant, Anaxes Imperial War College - [9 BBY]
Assigned, Vice-Commandant, Anaxes Imperial War College - [11 BBY]
Assigned, Commandant, Anaxes Imperial War College - [9 BBY]
Assigned, Moff, Ciutric Sector - [5 BBY]
Assigned, Flag Officer, Assertor-class Star Destroyer Reaper - [5 BBY]
* - Dates in brackets are converted from the Imperial Calendar
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Karen
Contemplating a blank canvas.
- Location
- Ireland
Constancia - A Dossier
A quiet off the road colony with a population less than a million for its native species - this was a perfect getaway for any Grand Admiral wishing to keep the gaze of the galaxy from him - a lone star facing the dark end of the Deep Core. A temperate, oceanic planet with a large orbital ring, Constancia is for lack of a better word, unexceptional in the scheme of the Deep Core. It lacks the bountiful natural resources and vast shipyards that tend to busy some of the more relevant planets, however this is what places its value for high ranking Imperial officials so high. Pleasure palaces, skiffs and the vast wealth of dozens of moffs, including several Grand Admirals and Grand Moffs are located here in the form of relics, art and private weapons. These palaces were protected by both a planetary shield and the natural effects of native Constancians.
The native species, simply known as the Constancians, are short, mammalian humanoids who possess adolescent features and white hair pretty much on a species wide scale, with very large eyes and culturally dress in simple red for the most part. The special part of them is their minds, for the entire species has a latent telepathic aura which pacifices and renders docile even the most bloodthirsty of spirits which does lend explanation as to why the species wasn't wiped out when Imperial colonists first settled here. They do have their own warrior caste however it is almost entirely based off long-living dynasties of warrior families that utilize specialist battle armour forged hundreds of years ago, and notably their own warriors are not affected by the pacifying aura, nor are outsiders once they are sufficiently far from the population centers - large, crystalline hive spires nestled in the mountains which decorate the sparse landscape.
This is generally where the Imperial Navy makes its headquarters, as while the high ranking officials enjoy the luxuries of life in protection of the Constancians their subordinates tend to remain on duty, drilling or performing maintenance on the limited listening posts. One of the most notable landmarks of the Imperial presence is a large sensor array known as the Vonas Gaze, which acts as both a station and command center for Imperial operations in the Deep Core for fleets under Grand Admiral Alegad Matoon.
Grand Admiral Matoon
The planet was otherwise too off the beaten path, with no hyperspace lane connecting it was effectively just a private getaway for many of the brass in the Galactic Empire, and a small nest for star destroyers to keep a close watch over the as of yet unexplored orbital ring, most likely the only location for any sort of war material to be extracted, though the tight grasp the High Command held on any contract for exploiting said resources has prevented such operations from being taken.
Whispers of the Forgotten
Lesanni of Knylenn, Moff of the Chommell sector
As the holographic image of the Emperor dissipated, there was a noticeable silence inside the Shambhala. Or, to be more specific, the at-space cabin of the Venator-class Star Destroyer and its singular occupant: Moff Lesanni. And the silence was not one of shock, or awe, but anger. 'How dare he,' she thought for to speak it would be treasonous. 'Show such arrogance at the sight of near glory... while I tend his corn-fed home.' It was a reminder of her irrelevance, eclipsed, long ago, by the dual sons of the Rim. One, a monster, who had died with his terrible creation; the other, a snake, who she still served with bent knees.
Lesanni felt her age. The grey in her hair, replacing all but the tiniest shred of black, became intolerable. As did the wrinkles, and darkened skin, and weakened muscles, and eyes that looked upon useless medals. But her body was a prison she was unable to escape from. She had denied herself the use of any anti-aging cosmetics, widely popular in the Core. She was too proud to besmirch her skin with them, and too knowledgeable to understand the snide remarks that it would cause. A veteran of the conflict of yore with many failures and triumphs to prove it. And like the Clones and Jedi she once fought with, she was forgotten. A footnote of a footnote. What would Tiin have said?
Lesanni felt her age. The grey in her hair, replacing all but the tiniest shred of black, became intolerable. As did the wrinkles, and darkened skin, and weakened muscles, and eyes that looked upon useless medals. But her body was a prison she was unable to escape from. She had denied herself the use of any anti-aging cosmetics, widely popular in the Core. She was too proud to besmirch her skin with them, and too knowledgeable to understand the snide remarks that it would cause. A veteran of the conflict of yore with many failures and triumphs to prove it. And like the Clones and Jedi she once fought with, she was forgotten. A footnote of a footnote. What would Tiin have said?
"Be at ease with yourself, admiral. Our legacy shall be those we've saved from the war's horrors. Nothing can be greater than that."
The fool died for it. A stupid dream for a stupid Republic, replaced by a New Order that called him a traitor. Lesanni did not miss the irony. But she did miss him, her dearest friend, and the fleet that was their family. Now, nothing more than faint whispers and silent tears.
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- Pronouns
- She/Her
Voda leaned back in her chair as the transmission concluded. How very corporate of his imperial majesty to talk about great accomplishments before the close of business. It wasn't meaningless, far from it, but meant less than nothing in predictive terms. She snuggled deeper in to her talz-hair coat, stroking the feathery little lizard curled up in her lap. Wilhuff peeped as she thought, the eternal question, the unending conundrum, the thing that got her out of bed each morning and drove her forward like a goad upon her command.
Was this good for Rothana?
Of course it was. Almost everything was good for Rothana. How good though? If they won, there'd be orders for more ships. If they lost, even more-more ships. It was the sort of math she enjoyed, numbers getting larger and larger in her favor, so far from the bean-counters of Central. Her chair spun with well oiled silence as she turned to look out the windows of her office over the frozen wastes, the slag heaps, the gantries and domes where the clever little minds of the technologists fizzled away. Life was cold, but so very profitable out here on the darkest edge of the Outer Rim.
This would be good for Rothana.
And what was good for Rothana was good for Voda Felswoop-Tarkin.
Was this good for Rothana?
Of course it was. Almost everything was good for Rothana. How good though? If they won, there'd be orders for more ships. If they lost, even more-more ships. It was the sort of math she enjoyed, numbers getting larger and larger in her favor, so far from the bean-counters of Central. Her chair spun with well oiled silence as she turned to look out the windows of her office over the frozen wastes, the slag heaps, the gantries and domes where the clever little minds of the technologists fizzled away. Life was cold, but so very profitable out here on the darkest edge of the Outer Rim.
This would be good for Rothana.
And what was good for Rothana was good for Voda Felswoop-Tarkin.
- Location
- the Republic
- Pronouns
- He/They
Imperial Navy, Office of Shipbuilding
Final Progress Report, Assertor-class Star Dreadnought Reaper
[2 BBY]
Private briefing for the Imperial Adviser for Naval Affairs - MOST SECRET
Report #85-SSD-3542
Final Progress Report, Assertor-class Star Dreadnought Reaper
[2 BBY]
Private briefing for the Imperial Adviser for Naval Affairs - MOST SECRET
Report #85-SSD-3542
My Lord,
We have completed the alterations required by Lord Vader on the Assertor-class most recently produced by Kuat Drive Yards. Given the other priority construction underway at KDY, alterations were completed at a secondary shipyard at Fondor, under a similar program to that used with Executor. Cost overruns have been limited to no more than twenty-five percent over initial budget projections. Given the imperative nature of Lord Vader's order, unlimited overtime was authorized on the project.
Reaper's command center, characteristically substantial for an Assertor-class, has been further modified and expanded in accordance with the Dark Lord's will. Space allotted to flag quarters has been increased by nearly five-hundred percent and power relays to flag quarters have been triply reinforced and augmented. Additional executive support has been added throughout the ship, including service personnel and guard quarters. Reaper is now capable of hosting the Imperial Presence without incident, should the need arise.
In addition to the Imperial Quarters, the flag officer's personal quarters have been expanded to include a private tactical suite, a personal hypercomm reception area, and a meditation chamber, as per Lord Vader's specifications. These alterations have been carried out in anticipation of the preferences of the intended flag officer, Moff Varian. Cybernetics support has been redoubled throughout the vessel, given the Moff's personal needs.
Finally, Lord Vader's firmly required cosmetic alterations have been completed, accounting for much of the cost overrun. Securing a sufficient supply of spaceworthy dark gray paint was no easy task, but we at the Office of Shipbuilding strive to please in all respects. We managed to keep costs to a minimum through discovering a small unlisted cache of black paint in storage, apparently left over from some other project. Mixing it with Star Destroyer White produced the appropriate effect. As such, Reaper now sports the requested dark gray trim, reminiscent of the old Venator-class, and the open-circle Imperial icon.
On a personal note, I must say that I am puzzled by the nature of the requests. Surely the Imperial Presence would be better hosted aboard Executor. An Assertor-class seems insufficient to meet the Emperor's needs. One of my men ran the numbers on the flag-quarter power augmentation and noted that it would quite handily support an extensive life-support suite, as well. Is there something I should know before I give final approval on the design?
Sincerely,
Christophe Tannenbaum
Assistant Chief Designer, Fondor Shipyards
---
To: Fondor Section Chief, Imperial Intelligence
From: Adviser, Naval Affairs
BY IMPERIAL ORDER
Enclosed you will find a copy of private correspondence. The undersigned should be subjected to full chemical and physical interrogation regarding the information within. Liquidate the undersigned and any who have been made aware of his concerns. Destroy this order and all associated documentation upon mission completion.
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- Location
- United States
Fondor, a ecumenopolis world covered entirely by industry and mining operations that exploit the planet's resources which are then sent into the orbit of the planet for ship construction or to other systems, being home to the famous Fondor Shipyards. While not as infamous as the Kuat Drive Yards or the shipyards of Corellia Engineering Corporation based on Corellia it is still a titan of shipbuilding in the galaxy. Fondor was the place of final construction of the Executor-Class Super Star Destroyer (first of the class) Executor, flagship of Lord Vader and a symbol of the Empire's immense power and ability to create the most massive of capital ships ever seen in history. The planet is unique to other worlds known for their shipbuilding, as most would be highly populated worlds using a majority organic workforce to construct vessels of all sizes. Fondor in comparison has a small population for a planet of it's importance, numbering around 5 billion, while a majority of the planet is 'run' by a massive army of droids that regulate the industry on the surface and the maintenance of the shipyards in orbit.
Final Judgment, a Bellator-Class Star Destroyer currently casts it shadow upon Fondor, being the flagship of Grand Admiral Mattalo Musscros being screened by numerous Imperial Star Destroyers and other small escorts that constantly patrol the system for any potential rebel incursion. The Grand Admiral holds the system with an iron grip, any and all opposition is removed in quick time so that not only is Imperial control maintained, but the production of Imperial Star Destroyers which are sent to the various sectors under rebel attack may continue without delay. The Grand Admiral has become one of the most feared men known to the Rebel Alliance for his tactics and methods of suppression against those who oppose his authority, as attempts to organize rebel cells or insurrections within the Tapani Oversector have been utter failures. The Imperial Navy and that of the Emperor view Musscros has a valuable asset against the rebellion, and he in return sees the opportunity to advance his career and grow his powerbase within the Navy and whatever sector of the Galaxy he resides, bringing his cold and emotionless will upon those most unfortunate to be on the wrong end of his intentions.
An officer onboard Final Judgment had called for the Grand Admiral's attention to his quarters, an urgent and highly classified message was being sent to him from what was described as 'of the upmost importance'. When Musscros reached his quarters he was witness to the hologram image of the Emperor himself, with the message of the impending defeat of the rebellion over Endor. Full of confidence of his plan to destroy the rebels in one swift stroke and speaking of complete victory. But this brought reminders of the words used by former Grand Moff Tarkin, with the deployment of the Death Star and destruction of Alderaan were similar things said. This great 'victory' was swiftly negated moments after the Battle of Yavin, leading to the death of Tarkin, numerous high-ranking Imperials and the Death Star becoming a massive pile of smoldering scrap metal by it's conclusion. And it was not done by some massive armada or superweapon, but by a small detachment of X-Wing fighters. Once the hologram and that of the Emperor's image vanished, Musscros had a moment to reflect on what he had heard, and what he assumed would come going forward.
"Hope... it is what the rebels feed off of, it is a dangerous thing which can either destroy you or overcome insurmountable odds. The Emperor is bold in this action he undertakes, but he seems to underestimate the resolve of the rebels and their dependence on hope. I tried numerous times to show him this without hesitation, as unlike other Grand Admirals fear in the Emperor's presence is a disservice to him and the Empire when trying to destroy the threat known as the rebellion. He would always state that his plans were not possible to fail and any revisions that I suggested where flaws were seen were rejected outright. I vanquished hope from the rebels throughout my time in service to the Emperor in whatever backwater or important sector I was commanded to, it is effective, it will win this war and bring total Imperial control to the galaxy. But if the Emperor wishes to test his own theory of granting them hope in a pitched battle, I will not object and await the results of the impending fate that is to come, for he is Emperor for a reason and I shall obey."
"Hope... it is what the rebels feed off of, it is a dangerous thing which can either destroy you or overcome insurmountable odds. The Emperor is bold in this action he undertakes, but he seems to underestimate the resolve of the rebels and their dependence on hope. I tried numerous times to show him this without hesitation, as unlike other Grand Admirals fear in the Emperor's presence is a disservice to him and the Empire when trying to destroy the threat known as the rebellion. He would always state that his plans were not possible to fail and any revisions that I suggested where flaws were seen were rejected outright. I vanquished hope from the rebels throughout my time in service to the Emperor in whatever backwater or important sector I was commanded to, it is effective, it will win this war and bring total Imperial control to the galaxy. But if the Emperor wishes to test his own theory of granting them hope in a pitched battle, I will not object and await the results of the impending fate that is to come, for he is Emperor for a reason and I shall obey."
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The bridge of the undaunted still smelt faintly of blaster discharge and burnt flesh. But that was what helmets were for. Crinas Knort never expected to find himself commanding a fleet but a life time of discipline helped him to maintain calm and poise despite the situation. "It won't be that hard he said quietly to himself, the emperor will shatter the rebel fleet and leadership at endor. It won't take a genius to lead a counteroffensive against demoralized leaderless, rebels. This is not an ideal situation, but it is an opportunity to show what i can do. Promotions may yet be in my future"
Komrade Kermit
Local Green-Anarchist
- Location
- The Motherland
- Pronouns
- He/Him
The bridge of the ISD Blade of Justice
Tenord flicked off the hologram. Arrogance had been the downfall of countless superiors and peers. Arrogance could be turned into a tool, but far too often it served as a handicap. He had already calculated the possibilities, and arrogance was just one more variable to confirm his hypothesis. There would be no final victory, no final celebration. It didn't matter how many Rebels where killed, how many ships destroyed, or how many leaders the Emperor captured. He had fought the Rebels for two decades, two decades of victory after victory, and still the rebels persisted. It would be an endless war, for all the Empire's might, the galaxy had quadrillions upon quadrillions, and the galaxy was far from conquered.
But Tenord was a soldier. He had swore an oath to the Empire, and oaths are not taken lightly. He would keep fighting, since that was all he really knew. Amongst a navy of obedient fools, Tenord was truly a soldier. He did not believe in the New Order, a more pervasive and corrupt creature even than the decayed Galactic Republic. If only he had realized that sooner. But here he stood. Tenord had done his part, issued his warnings, expressed his concerns, hid his frustration, and if the Empire had listened perhaps this war would have been already won But let the Moffs squabble. He had his mission, however he detested it. And the Empire always needed soldiers.
Tenord had done it again, worked himself into a state of depression. Some said staring out into space long enough could drive a man insane, and Tenord was loath to disagree with that superstition. He nodded to the void, and decided to make someone's day. He hit his comlink.
"Lieutenant Kers, has Lieutenant Ecces of the cruiser Nista arrived yet? Good, please send him to the bridge". Before too long, and while watching the reflection of the window, he noticed a young officer entering the bridge, who summarily cleared his throat and approached him.
"Admiral Tenord, sir, you wanted to see me?" He must have been a recent graduate, judging by his voice.
"Why yes Lieutenant Kers" Tenord replied, turning as he said it, "May I just call you Kers? Thank you. I wanted to ask your opinion on the engagement at Dolla. That was your first engagement, if I recall correctly". The lad was sharp, that could not be denied. He knew right away what this conversation was about.
"Well sir, it was my first in command. There where several pirate skirmishes when I was Second Lieutenant, aboard the Thunder Wasp, but nothing on the scale of this. I'm sorry sir, I was unprepared for that engagement, I got impatient" he stopped for a moment, and nodded "and I guess insubordinate".
Tenord had his left hand griping his chin, with his right behind his back. He swung his right around and placed it on the young officer's shoulder. "Kers, what you did could have been absolutely catastrophic both for the fleet, and your ship. You were exposed! An Arquitens-class cruiser isn't meant to go slug it out with a couple of CR90s, they can fly circles around you and rip you apart with their turbolasers. No, we use our cruisers to protect our Star Destroyers. When a corvette commits to a run, that's when you engage, and only to protect the blind spots". Kers was starting to shake a little. Tenord knew he was scaring him, and that was good. A little fear doesn't hurt for a young, headstrong officer.
The distraught Lieutenant responded in such a choked voice Tenord thought he might have overstepped a little. "What will you do with me sir?".
Tenord took his hand back and only said "Nothing". When Kers looked confused, he continued. "You did a great deal to your ship, as well as the Firm Hand, but you acquitted yourself well. And, more importantly" taking a pause to make contact with Kers's eyes "I think you already knew what you did wrong. Acknowledging the failure of one's own actions is the best way to prevent such mistakes from repeating. I've had the sons of Moffs come swaggering in after an engagement, and you wouldn't believe the tales they can come up with, but you did not run from the truth, you accepted it. The fact you show concern over your career also tells me you have ambition, which has it's place in the Armada, but you need to channel it. We are professionals here; glory does not interest us, alright? Good. So I will do nothing with you, Lieutenant Kers, because there is nothing I need to do. You made a mistake, and you learned from it. I've been making mistakes for 30 years, so few have learned more than me". He ended patting Kers's shoulder again.
The look of relief on Kers's face might be worth more than a promotion. "Yes sir, anything else?" Tenord smilied. "Yes, one more thing, I would like you to try and get some sort of symbol painted on your ship. I find it brings luck" "But sir, isn't that against regulation?" Tenord's smile deepened. "That hasn't stopped me, has it?".
- Location
- the Republic
- Pronouns
- He/They
Flag Quarters
Assertor-class Super Star Destroyer Reaper
Above Ciutric IV
The meditation chamber had been a gift unlooked-for. When he had placed his flag aboard Reaper, he had been fully briefed as to its special executive accommodations, but with no explanation given as to why. Lord Vader had been particularly cryptic upon his assumption of command, even by the Dark Lord's standards.
"You may find it of use. Do not fail me."
Moff Varian thought he understood the purpose of the Imperial Quarters. Should the need arise, if by some circumstance Executor was unavailable, damaged, or, ludicrous thought, destroyed, Lord Vader would have suitable accommodations aboard Reaper until such time as a new Dreadnought could be built for him. Some might consider Lord Vader's requisition of chambers suitable for the Imperial Presence to be arrogance, but for Varian, who generally found it better to accept the wisdom of the Dark Lord of the Sith, they seemed entirely appropriate. Not only was such a course safer, but Lord Vader usually turned out right in the end.
As for the meditation chamber... well, it was a gift. From Lord Vader himself. An unspoken suggestion that it was something he might need. Moreover, unthinkably rude not to use a gift from one's superior.
And so Varian meditated. He sought instruction from experts on breath control, on expanding one's consciousness. Nothing too mystical for a man of hard-headed reason, of course, but Lord Vader did have his mystic bent, after all. It couldn't hurt.
To his surprise, he found himself needing the chamber. Not because he thought himself a man of unbalanced emotion, generally, though it had been said before. No, his need for the chamber had everything to do with the nature of his assignment.
Nine years. I've been in this sector for nine years now.
He had been quite comfortable at Anaxes. Molding the bright young minds of the Imperial Navy was a true privilege, and it had come with quite a lot of prestige for someone who had no expectation of ever reaching the Grand Admiralty. "Commandant of the Imperial War College" had a certain ring to it. He had intended to hold the position for some time.
But, of course, he could not demur when called upon by the Dark Lord. Ciutric was a crucial position, he had been told, with deep political implications. He understood well enough the maneuverings between Lord Vader and the Grand Vizier, and he hadn't expected much more advancement as a Clone Wars veteran -- the Emperor preferred his New Order men, generally -- but Ciutric Sector was tiny. Ciutric itself wasn't anything to sneeze at, of course, but the other system in the sector was so unremarkable that some paranoid idiot had replaced its complete history in the governor's mansion library with a concealed holdout blaster.
He hadn't expected loyalty to require quite so much patience. He hadn't expected to need so much patience. And so he meditated, and he breathed through it, and he waited. Maybe something would change with the destruction of the main Rebel fleet. Maybe they'd scatter, like the Confederates had, and they'd need an experienced Outer Rim hand. Maybe.
Something had better happen. Soon.
Assertor-class Super Star Destroyer Reaper
Above Ciutric IV
The meditation chamber had been a gift unlooked-for. When he had placed his flag aboard Reaper, he had been fully briefed as to its special executive accommodations, but with no explanation given as to why. Lord Vader had been particularly cryptic upon his assumption of command, even by the Dark Lord's standards.
"You may find it of use. Do not fail me."
Moff Varian thought he understood the purpose of the Imperial Quarters. Should the need arise, if by some circumstance Executor was unavailable, damaged, or, ludicrous thought, destroyed, Lord Vader would have suitable accommodations aboard Reaper until such time as a new Dreadnought could be built for him. Some might consider Lord Vader's requisition of chambers suitable for the Imperial Presence to be arrogance, but for Varian, who generally found it better to accept the wisdom of the Dark Lord of the Sith, they seemed entirely appropriate. Not only was such a course safer, but Lord Vader usually turned out right in the end.
As for the meditation chamber... well, it was a gift. From Lord Vader himself. An unspoken suggestion that it was something he might need. Moreover, unthinkably rude not to use a gift from one's superior.
And so Varian meditated. He sought instruction from experts on breath control, on expanding one's consciousness. Nothing too mystical for a man of hard-headed reason, of course, but Lord Vader did have his mystic bent, after all. It couldn't hurt.
To his surprise, he found himself needing the chamber. Not because he thought himself a man of unbalanced emotion, generally, though it had been said before. No, his need for the chamber had everything to do with the nature of his assignment.
Nine years. I've been in this sector for nine years now.
He had been quite comfortable at Anaxes. Molding the bright young minds of the Imperial Navy was a true privilege, and it had come with quite a lot of prestige for someone who had no expectation of ever reaching the Grand Admiralty. "Commandant of the Imperial War College" had a certain ring to it. He had intended to hold the position for some time.
But, of course, he could not demur when called upon by the Dark Lord. Ciutric was a crucial position, he had been told, with deep political implications. He understood well enough the maneuverings between Lord Vader and the Grand Vizier, and he hadn't expected much more advancement as a Clone Wars veteran -- the Emperor preferred his New Order men, generally -- but Ciutric Sector was tiny. Ciutric itself wasn't anything to sneeze at, of course, but the other system in the sector was so unremarkable that some paranoid idiot had replaced its complete history in the governor's mansion library with a concealed holdout blaster.
He hadn't expected loyalty to require quite so much patience. He hadn't expected to need so much patience. And so he meditated, and he breathed through it, and he waited. Maybe something would change with the destruction of the main Rebel fleet. Maybe they'd scatter, like the Confederates had, and they'd need an experienced Outer Rim hand. Maybe.
Something had better happen. Soon.
- Location
- United States
Aboard the Imperial Star Destroyer Retribution
Cato Neimodia Sector
Admiral's Quarters
Admiral Gwendoline Tark had sat motionless for a few moments after watching her Emperor speaking about the coming victory against the rebels. The war would finally be over and peace would finally be returned to the galaxy. Though there were always threats against the glory of the empire they could not present a united front and crush those threats once and for all. Maybe then she would finally see some actual action.
She had been placed in command of the Cato Neimodia Sector because some pigs above her were worried she would show them up. These worlds were boring and disgusting. The Neimodians were a crafty and greedy lot, aliens, it was hardly unexpected. It was the main reason she preferred the confines of her Star Destroyer. There were only humans who spoke basic here, even if some of them sounded like they had just learned it yesterday. She had drilled her crew endlessly. There was no excuse to be caught flat footed. The others ships under her command were often sub par but they didn't stay that way for long. It was also for that reason she thought she never received any visits from higher ranking officers. It would show them they were wrong about her and they couldn't have that.
She loathed every last one of them but she would have the opportunity to show them at some point and she would relish in it. For now though it was time for another drill. She stood and examined herself in the mirror to ensure that her uniform was crisp and clean and her boots properly shined. After verifying that they were she marched out of the cabin and toward the bridge.
Cato Neimodia Sector
Admiral's Quarters
Admiral Gwendoline Tark had sat motionless for a few moments after watching her Emperor speaking about the coming victory against the rebels. The war would finally be over and peace would finally be returned to the galaxy. Though there were always threats against the glory of the empire they could not present a united front and crush those threats once and for all. Maybe then she would finally see some actual action.
She had been placed in command of the Cato Neimodia Sector because some pigs above her were worried she would show them up. These worlds were boring and disgusting. The Neimodians were a crafty and greedy lot, aliens, it was hardly unexpected. It was the main reason she preferred the confines of her Star Destroyer. There were only humans who spoke basic here, even if some of them sounded like they had just learned it yesterday. She had drilled her crew endlessly. There was no excuse to be caught flat footed. The others ships under her command were often sub par but they didn't stay that way for long. It was also for that reason she thought she never received any visits from higher ranking officers. It would show them they were wrong about her and they couldn't have that.
She loathed every last one of them but she would have the opportunity to show them at some point and she would relish in it. For now though it was time for another drill. She stood and examined herself in the mirror to ensure that her uniform was crisp and clean and her boots properly shined. After verifying that they were she marched out of the cabin and toward the bridge.
- Location
- USA
A Gathering of Notables
Plaza Dushein, Talcene
"And he said: Sir, that's no pig-lizard, that's my wife!"
Laughs came about in waves, eyes flicking back and forth in subtle appraisal on the general mood. Should I laugh once more, should I slap my knee? The more experienced socialites needed no such visual cues, relying on sound, pulling well-practiced guffaws out as was courtesy. The joke, of course, was pure dosh, and in a way everyone was aware. Well, most.
"Are you sure I've not told that one then? It truly was hilarious, quite so. Very hilarious, yes?"
Pundok Skreed was a portly gentleman, but the only glut his onlookers cared for was his fat pockets, the product less of commercial acumen and moreso of his father's inheritance. All the credits in the galaxy could not afford him a brain, but it could buy him friends. And the greatest of them all, at this moment was Moff Kril Xalasar, who sat at the man's side and laughed with the practice of decades. One would almost think it was legitimate.
"Oh Pundok, really we need to go outing more often; you're a riot!" said Xalasar.
At that, the others heartily agreed. They were a hodgepodge of the planet's elite, a cross-section of Imperial bureaucrats, wealthy merchants, and a handful of officers. All had come at the insistence of the Moff himself, who had been so gracious as to garner reservations for Plaza Dushein, one of the premier restaurants on Talcene. The food was bland and exceedingly expensive, but the price of entry was well worth sitting beside men of great importance. It was precisely for that reason that Xalasar had come, to flaunt his power, to entertain some notables, and grease up Pundok as a ripe investment of time.
Rosied up with all his newfound friends, Pundok slapped the Moff on the back. Within his mind, Xalasar cursed.
"Tell me, your excellency," began Pundok. "What's in the future? I've heard of quiet a ruckus with those rebels, eh?"
The military men in attendance all darkened at this shift in conversation, their eyes now hawkish and looking to Xalasar. With all due seriousness he spoke.
"Terrorists."
"Hmmm?"
"Terrorists is what we name them. Rebel is far too kind a word."
At this, the officers relaxed a bit, for which Xalasar was ever grateful. To lighten the mood, he continued.
"And have no fear of them. When that business is done with in that blasted backwater moon-"
"Ebor, was it?"
"Endor. And it's the moon, not the planet. But when that is finished with, I anticipate a swift crumbling of their little militancy. I have full confidence in the Emperor and his governance. Don't you?"
Pundok choked a little on his drink, on the uncomfortable back-pedal.
"O-oh. Of course! Yes, full confidence!"
Xalasar smiled, a gentle one of assurance.
"Naturally, you are a proud Imperial. It's no doubt you've already been thinking of your contribution to the redistricting proposal that I've been spearheading."
"Yes, of course I...redistricting proposal?"
"There are several offices still vacant, once staffed with the remnants of those fools who aligned with Separatism. With their Imperialization, I've been working on utilizing the space for better purposes."
Pundok nodded, ignorant of the whole affair but terribly afraid of stating as much. With each nod came the further realization that he had committed himself now firmly to a sizable donation. And with each nod came the self-justifications, that he truly was a patriot, that the Moff would use the credits well, and that he was quite pleased with his joke. It had earned him good friends!
The night continued much the same, the polite exchange of high society followed with promises of reconnection soon. Moff Xalasar departed last, speaking briefly with Chef Dushein himself, before returning to his offices. It had been a productive night and he busied himself with notions of embezzlement before he slipped off into sweet sleep.
(MINI) A Question of Loyalty
iAmJimmyHoffa
Servant of Morgoth
- Location
- New York
A QUESTION of LOYALTY
While busying yourself with matters of which your subordinates would struggle to gain the most simple understanding, an aide interrupts your work. "Sir, there is an urgent communication for you from Endor."
Withholding your frustration at having been distracted, you order him to bring it up, and he leaves as he does so. Immediately before you flashes a hologram; the figure of a familiar man, but not who you expected. The transmission is garbled at first, but steadily clears up.
"This is Admiral Terek Corliss of the destroyer Bayonet. This message is urgent and to all officers grade two and above: the Emperor and Lord Vader are dead. Our fleet over Endor has been devastated." As if to prove the point -- or perhaps to avoid accusations of treason or attempting a coup, as had happened not many months ago over Coruscant -- his image flicks to that of burning hulks of Star Destroyers and Imperial cruisers over Endor. The Death Star is nowhere to be seen, its remnants scattered about. His figure returns.
"Moff Jerjerrod and Admirals Declann and Piett are dead. I have assumed provisional command of the remnants of the fleet at Endor, and after I send this message we will jump to Kuat for repairs.
"I urge all commanders and governors to increase their alert levels in anticipation of Rebel attacks. The Ruling Council, who are included as a recipient of this message, will know what to do in the wake of this unfortunate disaster.
"Long live the New Order."
With that his image flashed off; a curt ending to a message devoid of emotion (except perhaps fear) and yet filled with consequence. You sit, contemplating the message: is it indeed a trick, an attempted coup against the Emperor? Is it a Rebel deception?
Or perhaps the Emperor really has been killed?
After several moments you receive another message labeled URGENT. It is the visage of Sate Pestage, the shadowy ranking member of the Imperial Ruling Council.
"To those who can hear me," he croaks, "I am Sate Pestage of the Ruling Council. The impossible has indeed happened: our glorious Emperor is dead. Our fleet over Endor has been beaten by the forces of sub-civilization, chaos, and deceit. If this New Order is to be maintained in its most trying hours, we must steel ourselves for the coming struggle. Double your patrols and increase alert levels; ensure that those beneath you are as loyal as you are to the Emperor.
"I will confer with the Ruling Council about the policies we will pursue to ensure the continued survival of the New Order. Until then, I shall expect that every man of the Empire will do his duty."
His form too fades, leaving nothing.
Now before you is a great decision that can alter the fate of the Galaxy.
Do you SIDE WITH THE LOYALISTS or CARVE OUT YOUR OWN EMPIRE?
The game is officially on. Have fun, and try not to die too soon!
- Location
- United States
Admiral Gwendoline Tark SIDE WITH THE LOYALISTS
- Location
- New York
Venis and his inner council sat together in his command room, the Warlord at the head of the long conference table, of course. The message delivered by Grand Vizier Sate Pestage had just faded out from the holoprojector. Admirals Doggus, Arriere, and Gunn all waited for their Warlords command. He began to rise, his towering presence already felt as he sat before them, but his great mass doubled as he rose, a man with stature well above those with normal genetics. His hand rose up to motion for them to rise, and a thought crossed his mind, and then another, finally the last, bringing a stern but determined look across his face.
"The Emperor is dead." he began.
"Long live the Emperor." they continued, the three of them bending their knees before him.
Emperor Venis, Long may he Reign
"The Emperor is dead." he began.
"Long live the Emperor." they continued, the three of them bending their knees before him.
Emperor Venis, Long may he Reign
- Location
- Brazil
Admiral Kolren, ISD Imperial Mercy, Bilbringi
Today was supposed to be a day of triumph. The Rebellion would finally crumble beneath the irresitible might of the Empire, the Galaxy would finally be brought under the undisputable rule of Man by Emperor Palpatine. Admiral Donnel Kolren had already set out his men to prepare the victory party. Booze, whatever the cooks could pass as party treats with their stores and even prostitutes, if his officers had been able to find any in the Station.
Instead, there is panic and confusion. Admiral Kolren wasn't exactly alone when he had received the message. Too many aides, Captains and lesser officers in his office dealing with party preparations. He hadn't thought necessary to dismiss them. After all, why deprive them of the chance to hear of the ultimate triumph firsthand?
Donnel wastes no time, old and well worn training and instincts taking over as he springs into action. Doubt takes a backseat and is quickly forgotten, an Admiral must always be an example to his men and this time is no different. Donnel is decisive and direct. There's much to be done and little time to act before the situation descends into total chaos. The fleet must be made ready and the shipyards secured. And so much more
ADMIRAL DONNEL KOLREN SIDES WITH THE LOYALISTS
Today was supposed to be a day of triumph. The Rebellion would finally crumble beneath the irresitible might of the Empire, the Galaxy would finally be brought under the undisputable rule of Man by Emperor Palpatine. Admiral Donnel Kolren had already set out his men to prepare the victory party. Booze, whatever the cooks could pass as party treats with their stores and even prostitutes, if his officers had been able to find any in the Station.
Instead, there is panic and confusion. Admiral Kolren wasn't exactly alone when he had received the message. Too many aides, Captains and lesser officers in his office dealing with party preparations. He hadn't thought necessary to dismiss them. After all, why deprive them of the chance to hear of the ultimate triumph firsthand?
Donnel wastes no time, old and well worn training and instincts taking over as he springs into action. Doubt takes a backseat and is quickly forgotten, an Admiral must always be an example to his men and this time is no different. Donnel is decisive and direct. There's much to be done and little time to act before the situation descends into total chaos. The fleet must be made ready and the shipyards secured. And so much more
ADMIRAL DONNEL KOLREN SIDES WITH THE LOYALISTS
Lord_Asmodeus
Here is your magical cryptic riddle-tumour:
- Location
- I AM A TIME MACHINE
ISD Orchestrator in orbit over Druckenwell
Cartha Uvennos Detat rewatched the holo-message play in former Admiral Mc'Clennor's office - now her own - with her feet propped up on his immaculate Wroshyr-wood desk. As she adjusted her feet to reverse their position she wondered idly how the admiral had gotten ahold of such a valuable piece of furniture. Perhaps it was a holdover from when he had still shown promise as an admiral and had real connections. Or maybe he'd just been rich. She gave as a subconscious shrug as her attention returned to the message, no doubt intended for the late Admiral and not her (a suspicion all but confirmed by the reference to "Moffs and Admirals", no mention of Generals she thought sourly) the message which, despite her ruminations and utterly casual posture had retained her full if not totally undivided attention. As the message ended with the Emperor's "The day we have long awaited is at hand. Long live the New Order!" she dropped her feet back down behind the desk and frowned. The greatest battle of the age, the pivotal moment in the Empire's war against the Rebellion and here she was garrisoning some backwater industrial world in the mid-rim surrounded by brazen Rebel holdings though that might change soon she reflected with a twinge of something that might have at least mitigated her frown if not reversed it, before further consideration brought the frown to a scowl. No doubt whatever plan was going to plan the glory would belong to 'the finest armada the galaxy has ever known'. She doubted the Imperial ground forces would be involved in more than a token aspect of the fight, mopping up some broken Rebel base or somesuch. And any glory that did accrue would not have accrued to her. No doubt she would have been relegated to some minor staff position, or logistical command. She was, she sneered mildly, a woman after all.
That thought brought her increasingly stormy mood to a head and she stood upright abruptly. Perhaps the Rebellion would be shattered at Endor, but there would be much of that 'mopping up' to around the galaxy, and she was out here on the bleeding edge, no doubt that would-
Her thoughts were immediately interrupted by aide barging into the office almost unnanounced. Noticing Cartha's already stormy demeanor as she turned her baleful gaze on the interruption the junior officer stammered out his message and quickly fled her office after she dismissed him with a curt nod. She sat down and keyed up the newest holo-message. Her anger and mild consternation rapidly turning into shock, disbelief, even denial. But as the follow-up message from Pestage played all doubt was put to rest. She sat in contemplative silence, mentally chewing over the implications. Perhaps... more than the side-show of glory awaited her now. Perhaps all the glory and honors she had ever wished... perhaps more chances for glory than she could handle. Suddenly her position far out in the midst of Rebel held territory, far from Imperial Center and its concentrations of power and industry did not seem like a mere career castoff. It suddenly became much more sharply meaningful. She had wondered how long it would take those in Imperial Center to notice that her two nominal co-commanders, who had acted and carried authority more like her superiors, had died. Perhaps now they might never notice. She suddenly couldn't decide if that thought made her joyous. Or terrified. Both, she decided after a moment.
What to do now was unclear. She had always been loyal the Emperor, the Empire, to its ideals and culture. But she could not deny she had not loved all aspects of its culture. She could not, would not go groveling to the rabble of the Rebel Alliance for clemency. Even if she had thought it might be given to her, she was no coward. She would not cast aside all she had worked for so easily. But.. what would she do? All was in flux, and while she was loyal to the Empire, her own personal loyalty to the bureaucrats and paper pushers in the Ruling Council, that snake Pestage, was not nearly so firm. And what of the Empire? Would it hold firm? Would it shatter under the Emperor's loss? She could not guess and she dared not make assumptions. Her position was too precarious, too suddenly deadly precarious, for her to jump too far too fast in any direction. The message had some sound advice however, and she knew in the coming days and weeks she and her people, Her People now, would need to be vigilant and prepared for anything. She would redouble her patrols, work with her the Captains of her fleet on increased drills, and step up the training regimens for her own soldiers and stormtroopers. Standing once again, she solemnly reached over to her holo-recorder to prepare a dispatch to all her command elements.
That thought brought her increasingly stormy mood to a head and she stood upright abruptly. Perhaps the Rebellion would be shattered at Endor, but there would be much of that 'mopping up' to around the galaxy, and she was out here on the bleeding edge, no doubt that would-
Her thoughts were immediately interrupted by aide barging into the office almost unnanounced. Noticing Cartha's already stormy demeanor as she turned her baleful gaze on the interruption the junior officer stammered out his message and quickly fled her office after she dismissed him with a curt nod. She sat down and keyed up the newest holo-message. Her anger and mild consternation rapidly turning into shock, disbelief, even denial. But as the follow-up message from Pestage played all doubt was put to rest. She sat in contemplative silence, mentally chewing over the implications. Perhaps... more than the side-show of glory awaited her now. Perhaps all the glory and honors she had ever wished... perhaps more chances for glory than she could handle. Suddenly her position far out in the midst of Rebel held territory, far from Imperial Center and its concentrations of power and industry did not seem like a mere career castoff. It suddenly became much more sharply meaningful. She had wondered how long it would take those in Imperial Center to notice that her two nominal co-commanders, who had acted and carried authority more like her superiors, had died. Perhaps now they might never notice. She suddenly couldn't decide if that thought made her joyous. Or terrified. Both, she decided after a moment.
What to do now was unclear. She had always been loyal the Emperor, the Empire, to its ideals and culture. But she could not deny she had not loved all aspects of its culture. She could not, would not go groveling to the rabble of the Rebel Alliance for clemency. Even if she had thought it might be given to her, she was no coward. She would not cast aside all she had worked for so easily. But.. what would she do? All was in flux, and while she was loyal to the Empire, her own personal loyalty to the bureaucrats and paper pushers in the Ruling Council, that snake Pestage, was not nearly so firm. And what of the Empire? Would it hold firm? Would it shatter under the Emperor's loss? She could not guess and she dared not make assumptions. Her position was too precarious, too suddenly deadly precarious, for her to jump too far too fast in any direction. The message had some sound advice however, and she knew in the coming days and weeks she and her people, Her People now, would need to be vigilant and prepared for anything. She would redouble her patrols, work with her the Captains of her fleet on increased drills, and step up the training regimens for her own soldiers and stormtroopers. Standing once again, she solemnly reached over to her holo-recorder to prepare a dispatch to all her command elements.