BLACK1

His Majesty, Emperor Black Real Name: Ki Ordo Nickname: Black Age: 29 Species: Human Height: 6' 2" Weight: 240 lb Hair: Black Eyes: Dark Green Sex: Male Homeworld: Kuar Alignment: Chaotic Neutral Clothing: Loose, Black pants. Black shirt. Black Trench Coat (see below), Round Oval Black Hat, Black tinted rimless glasses. Weapons: 2x 8 shot custom revolvers (see below) 2x Model MSD-32 Disruptor Pistols 2x Mandalorian Heavy Blasters 1x wrist mounted Dart Launcher (tranq darts) 1x Modified Flechette Shotgun (see below) 1x Chainaxe (see below) Misc. Extra Ammunition Non-Force User Inventory: Comlink (ear piece), credstick, Small pack of Synth-Skin, Rebreather, Wrist mounted grapple. 4 pairs of stun cuffs. 1x Lighter, 1x Pack of Cigarettes. Possessions: Ship-Trushot, 22-b Nightfalcon Speeder Bike ******************************************* Black's Trench Coat - Sleeves of the coat hang two inches lower than usual, hiding half of Ki's hands. The diameter of the cuffs of the sleeves extend two inches out farther than they should, and the sleeve telescopes to his elbow where it is a normal fit. There are several small pockets in the lining of the coat to fit ammunition in. Armor wise it equated to Spider silk armor for it's several layers of spider silk on the interior. The spider silk made it resist and sometimes reflect blaster bolts. Spider silk was also often know to resist vibroblades to some extent. It also had a flak lining that gave slight protection from shrapnel and small solid high velocity objects. ******************************************* Custom Revolvers - Black understands the mechanics behind slugthrowers and has created these himself. The guns are in 14" in length. In contrast to most slugthrowers, Ki has modified these guns to make more sound. Instead of the barely audible sound of the electromagnets in the gun being activated, these make a thunderous "bang". Ki has also increased the power to the electromagnets in the revolvers, increasing the speed of the projectiles exponentially. The guns have been named Heaven and Hell. Hell is black and looks rather worn while Heaven is highly polished silver and appears new. Modified Flechette Shotgun - The shotgun's barrel has been cut down severely. It is now short enough to be held with one hand. This also expands the area of spray. Happy The Chain Axe - Rather self explainatory, it's a massive axe with a chainsaw instead of the normal blade. Made of phrik.

Real Name: Ki Ordo Nickname: Black Age: 28 Species: Human; Pariah Height: 6' 2" Weight: 185 lb Hair: Black Eyes: Dark Green Sex: Male Homeworld: Kuar Alignment: Chaotic Neutral Clothing: Loose, Black pants. Black shirt. Black Trench Coat (see below), Black Wide Brimmed Fedora, Sunglasses (x2). Weapons: 2x 8 shot custom revolvers (see below) 2x Model MSD-32 Disruptor Pistols 2x Mandalorian Heavy Blasters 1x wrist mounted Dart Launcher (tranq darts) 1x Modified Flechette Shotgun (see below) 1x Chainaxe (see below) 1x Thermal Detonator 3x Plasma Grenades 1x Ion Grenade 1x Sonic Grenade Misc. Extra Ammunition Non-Force User Inventory: Comlink (ear piece), credstick, 12x small bacta patches, Rebreather, Wrist mounted grapple, Neural Implant. 4 pairs of stun cuffs. 1x Lighter, 1x Pack of Cigarettes. Possessions: Ship-Trushot, 22-b Nightfalcon Speeder Bike ******************************************* Black's Trench Coat - Sleeves of the coat hang three inches lower than usual, hiding half of Ki's hands. The cuffs fan out farther to let his guns move freely through the sleeves.. There are several small pockets in the lining of the coat to fit ammunition in. Armor wise it equated to Spider silk armor for it's several layers of spider silk on the interior. The spider silk made it resist and sometimes reflect blaster bolts. Spider silk was also often know to resist vibroblades to some extent. It also had a flak lining that gave slight protection from shrapnel and small solid high velocity objects. ******************************************* Custom Revolvers Heaven and Hell - Family Heirloom. Refurbished by Black. The guns are in 14" in length. In contrast to most slugthrowers, Ki has modified these guns to make more sound. Instead of the barely audible sound of the electromagnets in the gun being activated, these make a thunderous "bang" created by the unique design of the muzzle. Black has also increased the power to the electromagnets in the revolvers, increasing the speed of the projectiles exponentially, with dials above the thumbs to designate speed. Hell is a dull black and looks rather worn, with a grip made of charred wood, lacquered to hold its dismal state. Conversely, Heaven is polished to a mirror finish, with a grip of polished white Krayt Dragon pearl. The guns have a dueling grip, as Black has always preferred them. Both are made of Bes'kar. Modified Flechette Shotgun - The shotgun's barrel has been cut down severely, and the stock has be swapped to have a pistol grip. It is now short enough to be held with one hand, though inadvisable to anyone else without the wrist strength. Happy The Chain Axe - Rather self explainatory, it's a massive axe with a chainsaw instead of the normal blade. Made of phrik.

The Trushot tore out of hyperspace high above Corellia. Immediately he was hailed by security. "We have this ship to be registered to former Emperor Black, is that correct?" Black couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. I'm sorry? He said somewhat bemused. Had the Empire already put the word out for his hide? "Sir, when you were previously Emperor of the Galactic Empire, your personal ship was registered at every major spaceport for security purposes. Your staff did this without your knowledge for your security. We apologize for any inconvenience but I must ask again, is this the ship Trushot, registered to Ki-" Yes. He cut in, trying to catch her before saying his full name. He hated when anyone said his name. Anyone but few. "In that case, its a conflicted honor to have you, sir. I'm tempted to take you in and extradite you to Republic jurisdiction, but as there is no such standing order for you, you are clear to land. May I ask what your business is on Corellia?" Well now its to get a new gor'ram ship. One not registered on a galactic scale. Shopping. I'm looking for a particular quality metal. "Alright, sir. We thank you for your cooperation. And as always, Welcome to Corellia. Your business is always appreciated." I bet it is, you hairy schutta. He took her in for a landing, scouting any landing pad he could as soon as he broke atmo.

He dropped hyperspace mid jump and just....sat there. The ship floated out of the hyperspace lane and then simply cut engines and drifted like flotsam on an otherwise empty ocean. What the hell was he even doing with his life? Empire, then not, then try to help, repent, and now what? What did he have to show for it all? The same shitty ship as always, the same god damned nothing, no friends, not even a soul to his name. What now, work for the Republic, or CorSec? Laughable. As if they'd even consider taking him in. He was a pariah, a blight upon the galaxy. No one wanted anything to do with him, didn't even want him to be around them. He'd just screw everything up. A snap click bright fire to the long, slender cigarette hung limp in his lips. He had sparked it absently, staring off into the vast nothingness of space as his hands had simply reacted on their own to some internal urge for nicotine. As the cigarette took alight, the smell of the sweet spiced tobacco filled his senses and brought him back from his trance like stupor in a deep inhale of cobalt blue smoke. Frak'em all. He didn't need them to survive. He didn't need his hand in galactic maters to change the things that mattered to him, to live the life he wanted to live. But then what was left for him? He had only known war. Sure, he had some skill repairing ships, building weapons and armor for clansmen way back when, but to what end? Spend the rest of his life as a mechanic or gunsmith, living quietly in a home of his own, a wife and little scampering whelps of his own? It would just be hollow. Everything else is. Except war. War was always clear, always had a purpose. The Mandalorian had always known his place in battle. Yet there was none any longer. The Sun and the Hutts would be warring soon, surely. Crime always flourished during times of peace. But that war didn't seem to appeal to him. They had their own agendas, their own game to play. They'd only seek to use him to their own design. The Jedi and Sith were likely to spark anytime as well. The Sith wouldn't sit on their hands forever, and anything the Jedi did publicly would only further taunt the Sith to strike. And Black was good at killing their kind. But again, to what end? There was no way he could exterminate them all for the sake of cleansing the galaxy of religious fanaticism. Plus you could never get rid of the bastards. Cut twenty down and forty rise from the ashes. I don't need their wars. I can hold my own just fine. Just then his ship's on board communication board beeped alive, a single pulsing red light to show a message was waiting. Curious, Black flicked the switch to let the message through. For a moment, nothing happened. Lights didn't flicker, no sound was made. The system simply froze. The hell? His eyes skimmed over the panel for a moment until spotting the one place the computer for communication should have rested. One swift kick to the metal plate covering the lower panel and lights started blinking again. Static buzzed through the speakers from all sides, and an error message displayed on the monitor. ::Decrypting. This may take a moment.:: Two and a half hours, three pots of coffee, and four packs of smokes later, the message was finally reconstructed. Well I'll be god damned. His heart began thundering in his chest, his mind spun as it raced in a thousand directions at once, and a wide, sinister smile spread across the Mandalorian's face. With this I can... His fingers flew across his controls, and hyperspace couldn't grab him fast enough.

((Hehe, rest assured Hartel, if you had truly been a guest of my interrogation rooms, you would not have left with alive. But no worries. Sorry I didn't get to you, but I've been rather sick, and much has been going on both OOC and IC for me to deal with.)) The garrison saw the Rebel fleet come out of hyperspace, and all swore in unison. It wasn't that they were afraid, just tired of fighting. Christ, doesn't anyone get a break? ”œImperials, this is General Aesop of the Rancor. Surrender or face destruction.”

At first, the Jedi didn't seem to notice the dozen or so stun bolts rocket against his armor and shutter throughout his body. His mind seemed incapable of accepting it. Instead he blindly rushed forward toward the CO, picking him out from the crowd of masked faces for unknown reasons. Maybe it was the pistol in his hands, maybe it was blind luck that his focus fell upon the enemy commander, perhaps event he force was guiding his action, but just before reaching his destination, the Jedi fell face first into the unforgiving durasteel floor. In the very same instance, all of the illusions forced upon the defenseless troopers faded away, a moment of clarity passing over the base in one calm second. "Strip him of of his possessions and get him in stripes. The Emperor will want to deal with this one personally." The unconscious Jedi was processed like any other individual, save for the fact that he was put on heavy neural restrainers and doped up ridiculously heavily for transport. His arms and legs were bound in reinforced durasteel manacles, and then his body was completely wrapped in a similar steel chain. No room to move, no room to think, no room for error. The ride to the spire would be direct, the fate of the Jedi known to only one.

His troops assembled, the CO stood to the side of his troops as they watched the intruders rush in through the garrison's camera feeds. One particular camera was pointed directly at the door the intruders were at. The moment a lightsaber blade pierced through both sets of doors, the commander cursed under his lips. There was no doubting it now, the Jedi were here. Everyone stood silent as they watched the glowing blade turn the thick steel to molten metal like butter, its slow motion around the door all the more ominous. Only after half of the makeshift entryway had been cut had it donned upon the commander. even if they cut through the door, it would be nearly impossible to move the massive chunk of steel still blocking their way, unless... "Move to the side of the door, at an angle. Back here." "Sir?" The commander spoke with no anger in his voice. It was natural for the men to question this particular order, especially since it would cut down on their ability to fire at the invaders. "Listen, once they finish cutting through, the Jedi will have to use his witchcraft to either push or pull the massive block of metal out of the door frame so they can get in. That's fifty fifty odds of you getting hit with several tons of metal with whatever force he can muster, now I said MOVE!" Seeing his logic, the men moved without question. Now they were forty-five degrees from their previous position. Even if the Jedi felt this shift in position, the cuts on the door would only allow the block of metal to move in only one linear path, parallel to the cuts of the lightsaber blade. With a door that thick, moving it at all would have to be either straight forward or backward, unless the cuts were done at a severe angle, and even then they could adjust accordingly. Twenty men stood in two rows of ten, half kneeling up front, the other half standing behind the first. As previously ordered, all of their blasters were set to stun, though admittedly a high level of stun. As expected the door was thrown into the room with ungodly force, yet the troopers held their ground, their intense training so ingrained they knew there would be no reason to fire until the enemy had been spotted. But the enemy did not rush in. Instead, smoke grenades of some sort were tossed in. "Watch your eyes." As one, the troopers quickly switched the vision in their helmets to thermal vision, now seeing purely by the heat signature all things gave off. Still they held, no reason to fire until there was a reason to. The CO picked up his hand held comm, with his disruptor pistol in the other hand, and whispered very lowly. "Come up through the main hall and cut off their escape. They're attacking the command center now. Make haste." One of the sergents outside the command center would get the message and spread the word throughout all the soldiers throughout the base. Soon troopers quickly began to spread out through the base, some headed directly to the main hall, while the rest covered all the other exits, manning all of the garrison's built in defenses. As previously ordered, all combatant personnel had switched their blaster rifles to stun. "Gentlemen," the Commander spoke to the twenty men with him. "It's just a jump to the left." In perfect unison the twenty men made a quick leap to the left, now back in the line of fire with whoever stood on the other side of the makeshift entryway. Their stun volley flew in furious synchronization, almost like an angry ballad, through the hole cut by the lightsaber. Whoever was on the other side of that door, they would not be pleased. The shots flew in volleys, men taking turns to switch themselves out of line of fire to conserve ammunition, and keeping all of the men from being subjected to one brutal attack at once. <>

((Krote, you're here for a mandatory three days, as per me three daying you at MC. You can post at any time, but after the three days you are able to make an attempt to escape. PM me with how long you'd like to stay here, and all your cares of concerns. But do not think I will simply let you go. Gotta work hard on an escape post. My suggestion is to do some research.)) A small shuttle comes in and drops off what little unwounded prisoners remained from the recent offensive at Mon Calamari. They were quickly dropped off, processed, and shown to their cells.

((Three day rule. Sorry, but I have many other stops beyond this one.)) "Sir, we have four missiles inbound. We can't trace the source, somewhere beyond our sensors" I know. The officer sat reluctant in his chair for a moment, silent for fear of questioning the Emperor Himself before finally letting both his curiosity and sense of survivability get the best of him. "Would you like me to take evasive maneuvers, sir?" Hold. "But, sir. Their signature denotes a delivery system most commonly used with barad-" You should look to your own tongue rather than four simple missiles, lieutenant. Its gone wondering. "Yes, sir." ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 3....2....1.... The very moment time ran out for the Rebel commanders of Mon Calamari, a great and terrible barrage erupted from the holds of each surrounding Imperial ship. Each firing vector shared one very special mark, the head Rebel command center, the location of which known from cross referencing the location of the previous comms exchanged between the commander and the Emperor, as well as previous intelligence gifted to them by the mole previously in place among Onderin's very own staff. Each bolt and blast touched the planetary instillation with an unforgivable and unforgettable level of devastation, sundering both brick and body without care or concern. As simply as the Rebel commanders had refused to answer, the building had been transformed into a blazing inferno, the flames of which rising so high into the Mon Calamari sky it could be seen for miles around. Find the best suitable place to put a garrison. After it is deployed, waste no time rounding up the Rebel personnel (Krote). They'll be taken to Oovoo IV with the others. "Yes, sir." Within the hour the garrison was up, POW's rounded up and contained in the next. Without the call for evacuation, or any other forms of precautionary orders, a vast majority of the Rebel men and women had died in the initial barrage, several more in the resulting conflagration. Of the initial Rebel personnel, only a handful remained to be considered prisoners. Though, as a short concession to the Survivor's Foundation, the wounded were left to the care of the Foundation's workers elsewhere on the planet surface. There was no need to spend any more credits fixing them up, especially after he had just spent so much to injure them in the first place. Let the Rebels pay for their wounded and dying.

((Good defense post, James. Honestly the only thing you could have done. Everyone else would have wrote out a long, convoluted post trying to dodge the entire barrage.)) "Sir, we clipped it once or twice, but not enough to do any real damage to it. We didn't anticipate he'd turn around." Yet another sigh escaped him, one of many that day, and surely not to be the last. So much disappointment. Even the Republic ship that now sat idle in space, explosions skittering across its surface like lightning strikes, gave him no satisfaction. Get me on a comm to Mon Calamari again. A quick flick of a switch and he was on. You have ten minutes left to surrender. After that, expect a lot of people do die.

It was strange at first. A casual descent into disorder, a madness soldiers with such superb training would never experience under any other normal conditions. The Colonel's eyes narrowed as the chaos spread throughout the command center of the prefab base, knowing full and well what was soon to come. He had served many tours in his youth, now content to take a desk job on Sullust after the fire of youth had left him. But what replaced that valuable spark was something cold and hard, the product of of pain, death, and absolute loyalty to the Emperor. As the madness rolled on, a single word parted from his lips. "...Jedi..." For only a brief second he allowed himself a short sigh of annoyance before collecting himself. "LOOK ALIVE TROOPS! We have invaders, I want a technical layout. Night vision, thermal, infrared, I want everything." The booming voice of their CO cut through whatever madness that had touched them, reaching down to the very core of their mind, down to where their training had been so skillfully ingrained into them so long ago. As one, they all stood up and saluted, dropping back to their seats without wasting much more time. "Sir, we have several invaders coming from the east gates." "Where were the sentries?! "Sir, they were momentarily assisting with the Sullustans. We were paying special attention to the sensors on the east side to make up for it, but the invaders somehow slipped past them." "On screen." The invaders' came up on screen, apparently interrogating one of the troopers. "Audio." "Where is your Commanding Officer" The man on the screen had classic mandalorian armor, yet...where did the madness come from? Surely the mando wasn't... "Comm command and inform them of the situation. Seal this door and drop the blast doors. I want twenty of you to form up on the sides of the door, the rest of you stay at your stations. Get me on the speakers." As the men fell into place, the Colonel moved to one of the several communication computers in the room. Pressing the small, black little button, he was suddenly on all the speakers throughout the base. Ten hut! Like the troops in the command center, speaking to the ingrained training of his men would be the only way to save them from the madness. Purely on instinct, troops throughout the base snapped to attention, unable to deny the military training within them. This base is under attack. Visuals denote mandalorians, but as you have all likely felt, there may be a Jedi present. Turn your blasters to stun and fall back to the command center as far as you can. Group up, and mass fire. Fire well beyond incapacitation. And to you invaders, I assure you, no matter your skills, you will not walk away from this place today. Drink in the Imperial grey and white, because this will be your grave. Dismissed. The base sprang alive with those who had managed to break away from the descent into madness, which after falling back to the outer halls of the command center turned out to be about half of the base. A quarter of the troops were still outside rounding up the Sullustans, but they too had gotten the comm from the Colonel. "Sir, we're reporting green on all areas. The troops have fallen back, and the message has been sent to command." "Very good, soldier. Now, see to your rifle and fall in place." "Yes, sir." This was going to be a good day.

"Emperor Black, this is Admiral Vandro of the Survivor's Foundation. I sincerely hope that this demand does not include the Survivor's Foundation, otherwise you will be in breach of treaty." A soft smile set itself into his features as it commonly did when he was forced to do...political things. "Of course not, Admiral. I wholly appreciate the efforts of the Survivor's Foundation and wouldn't dare to think of hindering their valiant efforts in any way." His smile grew steadily as he spoke, beautifully covering the growing bile in his throat, rising with every passing second he was forced to placate those he considered below him. "However, I am in the middle of an engagement and cannot be dissuaded. So long as the Republic - " "Sir!" Behind his tinted glasses the Emperor's eyes closed in exasperation. "Pardon me for a moment, Admiral." Black flipped the switch on his chair to cut the audio and visual from the comms without directly cutting the connection itself. "Can't you see I'm talking!?" As one the bridge's crew wretched back at the verbal lashing, unsure what to expect as this was their first tour with the Emperor. "Yes, sir, but there is a ship trying to leave the planet." "Oh, there is? Are the Interdictor Fields in place?" "Yes, sir." "Excellent. Shoot it down." Without hesitation or question a neat little barrage left the ships closes to the fleeing ship, ending the pilot's trek before it could ever really begin. Flicking the audio and video back on to the comm to the Foundation Admiral. "Terribly sorry for your wait. As I was saying, I intend no harm on you or your own, so long as they do not try to get in the way of my acquisition of Mon Calamari. You see, they've been using their shipyards to fuel the Rebel war machine, something I cannot allow. If you have personnel on the planet, they have my permission to leave and board your ships. However, until this situation is resolved, I must ask that you remain in orbit with me. Can't have Rebel informants sneaking aboard your ships in hopes to escape my communications blocks. I do not want to have to kill today, but without the unconditional surrender of Mon Calamari and its inhabitants, and by extension its businesses and everything else it owns, I cannot say that an orbital strike is out of the question. You understand, I'm sure. If you truly do care about the lives of these people, you will talk to the planet's leaders and convince them to do the right thing." He cut the comms abruptly, knowing the Foundation would not risk losing all Imperial funding to give warning to the Rebel leaders. Not only would this obscure their firm stance of neutrality, they would lose more than funding in the future. The Republic could not protect the Survivor's Foundation while they are working tooth and nail to save their own skins. <>

"Emperor Black, I know you would make good on threat but I have to do what I believe is best and I cannot surrender. If you attack you will be shot and that will be unpleasant so just turn around and leave." For a moment, he sat with his mouth agape, unable to really process what happened. How could anyone in any position of authority make such a childish threat? Did they just not care about their lives, or was it some sort of ploy to buy them more time? Regardless, the clock was ticking, and Black would not waste any more time negotiating with someone who threatened to use their single ship against the bulk of Section One. Without returning a comm, the Emperor turned to the Captain. "Fire a full barrage from all ships present directly into their bridge. Ion emplacements first, then the lasers, and finally three quarters of our available missile bays. Direct all ships' shields forward for whatever return fire they might be able to return in the short time that is left in their lives. And bring me a bottle of whiskey. Looks like this is going to be yet another slow day." A cigarette found its way to his mouth, the thin trail of cobalt smoke streaming steadily upward as he took a long, hard drag. Word spread throughout the fleet like wildfire, and in but a few minutes, everyone had reported the situation green. Without warning Black's answer raged toward the lone Republic vessel in waves, the furious red of ionized plasma first to strike, soon followed by the malevolent green of Imperial turbolasers. But that was not all. When the energy based weapons had each in turn done their damage, hundreds of concussion and proton missiles erupted from their mechanical berths, their deafening cry silenced only be the void of space. There would be no mercy shown this day. Mercy was for those who proved to fight valiantly in battle, not for cowards hiding behind the protective blanket of the faux Republic. <> Back on the comm to the officials planet side, the Emperor had but one thing to say to those who had failed to give him the battle he so desired. "Forty minutes"

As the Jedi made their way to the Imperial Garrison with as much stealth their training and Master Darkfire's skills benefited, they would come across a long train of Sullustans being filed into the garrison. Most of them were just the most outspoken of the political officials, each feeling the need to stick to their principles rather than be satisfied with their survivability, but a great deal of the Sullustans were the families of the other political officials. They were to be kept in the garrison to ensure that the officials would keep public peace, and speak in favor of their new Imperial master. Every twenty meters stood a group of five troopers, each sporting their classic E-11's. "Yes, sir. We expect to finish gathering the prisoners within the hour. Processing should take another two, and then they'll all be secure. Yes. Yes. Understood. Thank you, sir. Over and out."

Section One of the Imperial fleet exited hyperspace in a broad formation, with most of the bigger ships spread out far from each other. The formation would maximize coverage of Mon Calamari's air space, however would prove to be somewhat sketchy should the Republic send forces. But it didn't really matter anymore. It was a testament to the Emperor's bravado, in this instance ignoring the possible forthcoming dangers in favor for an immediate advantage. As always, a portion of the fleet held back. There was no need to present the entire strength of Section One right off the bat, and you never know when you'll get jumped from the rear. The Rebellion had a habit of coming at you from behind, never really attacking head on. A common joke amongst Imperial soldiers was to imply the need for addition armor for their buttocks when a Rebel counter-attack was likely. Standard for all Imperial planetary siege operations, all long range communications were cut the second the fleet entered the system, the Interdictors not far behind to impose their hold on space. Sitting on his throne aboard the Solemn Harbinger, with all the expected excitement of battle completely absent in his features, the Emperor casually hit the comm and put it on broad range for the entire planet to hear. "This is Emperor Black. I don't have time for pleasantries and formalities this evening. Just surrender, or I'll blow you up, blah blah blah. You have one hour." Putting the comm on broad range would ensure that every citizen on the planet would hear it. For those citizens that didn't hold a position of power, and as such would not know how to keep a cool head under such situations, many would hit the streets in panic. Calls would flood in to government buildings, many would even try to use their own private ships to try to escape a doom filled future of missiles, though they would fail. TIES were now being deployed to intercept the smaller fleeing vessels, while the larger ones would be well within the range of the Star Destroyers. In the confusion, the Mon Calamari government would have a much harder time denying Black of his demands. Chaos was his weapon this day, and it served him well.

Once the ships had been scanned and all possible tracking devices the Republic may have had in place had been removed, the Republic fleet that was captured above the skies of Sullust found their way to what would be their dry dock for a long, long time. After the crew had been shuttled off, the shipyard crew immediately went to work on the ships, slowly but surely taking away the ship's offensive capabilities in light of a more commercial use. The Imperial war machine was a hungry one, and even more so than blood, it hungered for credits.

The newly acquired Republic ships exited hyperspace above Oovo IV, a comm ahead of time warning of their arrival all that was needed to halt what would have been a crippling barrage from the planets orbital defenses. With practiced military proficiency the Republic soldiers, numbering easily over a hundred thousand, were filed off their previous posts with a short shuttle ride planet side before being dropped off for processing. With the ships now emptied, the skeleton crew of Imperial soldiers lead the ships to space.

:Comm to the Republic Flagship: "Most excellent. Please have all your men line up in the hangers for transportation. Have a roster ready for each ship, from which we will make sure everyone is present and accounted for. If every ship complies, no one will be harmed, and you will all get to go home to your families very soon. However, if anyone tries to resist, I will slaughter your entire fleet, and whatever sector of Sullust I'm over. How many die is up to you, gentlemen." The comm was cut without chance for negotiation or protest, not that either would have mattered. They had already seen his diplomacy skills once. He rose from his throne, stretching his legs after what turned out to be a lack luster evening. Cursing the Republic Admiral under his breath as he strode to the frontal view point on the bridge, Black let his hands find themselves behind his back, clasping idly as ever with his almost unnerving capacity to remain calm. Damn that Starlisk for denying me a simple day's glory. He waited patiently before the massive bridge window, allowing the Republic time to get to the hangers. As sour as he was for having avoided a major battle, Black couldn't help but let a devilish grin stretch across his face now that he was away from the prying eyes of his flagship's crew. It almost seemed to be too good. Before starting the offensive, Black had known the locations of Republic bases, personnel, even fleet movements, all thanks to the very same man on the other end of that comm. Who could have imagined he would have been assigned to the very same unit sent to meet Black's own at Sullust? As unlikely as the odds were, there was no doubting the reality of it. Even as he stared out the bridge window he could begin to see boarding shuttles heading toward the Republic ships. Soon, all of the enemy crew would be bound and put under guard as a skeleton crew escorted the ships elsewhere. Now it was time to wrap everything up and move on. "Captain, tell the team boarding that Defender to get me the man who issued the command to surrender. He'll be taken to Coruscant, instead of going with the rest. Also, deploy a prefab garrison on the planet surface. We'll pry some shield generators off of one of those MC90's to use for the garrison. After that, leave the standard compliment and inform me when the fleet is reassembled to move out." With nothing else to do, bored out of his mind, and the thirst of battle left poorly quenched yet again, Black turned from the expansive view and momentarily retired to his private room not far from the bridge. Throwing his hat to the bed, the Emperor slumped down into an armchair. In just a short time, the comfort of the chair had lulled him into sleep. When the speakers throughout his room chimed softly to stir him from his nap, informing him that all his orders had been carried out and the ship was prepared to depart, Black mumbled only one name before shifting himself in the chair to once again find a comfortable position and fell promptly back to sleep. The next on a long list of planets to be met by the Imperial war machine would be Mon Calamari. Without hesitation the fleet departed, eager to play their part in the machine.

"Yes, meeting in person is ideal. I'm going to get aboard a shuttle by myself and fly into the middle of the divide between our fleets. You do the same, and we'll dock and meet in neutral conditions." The screen faded to black. Nothing left to say, so nothing left to discuss, apparently. His hands cradled in front of him, the Emperor sat with his head lowered as he sat in contemplation of what just happened. Turning to his aide, Black spoke in a hushed voice. "Spread word throughout the fleet. On my mark." The young officer only nodded before firing off the first round of orders to the communication's officers. In a few moments, Black ordered that a message be sent directly to the Admiral's shuttle. Once accepted, the Admiral would see a small holographic version of the Emperor, sitting expectantly serene. "Admiral Starlisk, before I begin negotiations, I wanted to clear something up with you, if you don't mind. When someone humbly offers another the option of making a decision on the behalf of both parties, there are two ways to answer the courtesy. You may either accept it, and make the decision, or regretfully decline. Not create a third option, and settle on it without asking my opinion." The hologram shifted in its seat momentarily before continuing on. "For negotiations, I must warn you that the dialect I will be using this evening is missiles." As one, eight hundred missiles flew from the nests aboard ships throughout the Imperial fleet. Even ships that had not yet been present jumped from hyperspace and surrounded the Republic fleet from many different and obscure angles, their target feed to them and programmed into their targeting arrays just before getting in range. From all over the battle field, the missiles raged toward the Admiral's shuttle like seeds of destruction, each vying for the promise of purpose. <> "Put me through to the Republic Flagship....De facto Republic Admiral, now both you and the Sullustians have fourteen minutes to agree to a complete and utter surrender, or I will destroy you with both the ships infront of you, and the ones surrounding you from behind, below, and above. See you in....thirteen minutes." "Emperor, we have an unidentified ship along the parameter of the Republic Fleet." "Put it through the database." After a few minutes of inquiry, the computer returned with results. "Seems to be the Ghost Breath, last seen in Imperial space docked at the Spire for the peace conference a few months back. Registered to Armiena Draygo Darkfire." "Patch me through." Again, a small holographic image of the Emperor sat on his holographic throne on the projector aboard the Grandmaster's ship. "Unexpected to see you here, Master Darkfire. I expected you to stay at your temple on Gala. You must see me as a bigger threat than I thought." The hologram sat silent for a moment, almost studying those present to hear the message. "I suppose it'll be a tad overkill now that you're not there." ((OOC: Armiena, since you arrived seperately from the Republic fleet, I don't believe you can take command of the fleet in the event that Onderin dies (not that he necessarily has quite yet), but rather you would act as a peripherial combatant. I think command would fall to the only other Republic PC present, which from reading back on the Gala-Alliance Base thread, was Kalphehn Drakiel in this post.))

Black sat quietly in his chair as Onderin rattled off one excuse after another, even going so far as to claim he too had been the victim of the Sith. That may have been true, but it completely missed the point he was trying to make. "That's all well and good, Admiral, but when I said I wanted to talk, I meant in private. We can meet on your ship or mine, it doesn't matter. I don't think think you would jeopardize peace just to take me out aboard your ship."

The enemy had shown up en mass as Black had predicted. At a glance, the Emperor reasoned that the Republic ships currently visible were about the maximum ships anyone would send to one possible attack. The attack at Selvaris would have also drawn attention by now, leaving the Republic two separate engagements to handle at once. Figuring in patrol patterns, and standing formations before the Imperial assault, all the numbers in the reports Black had received from his turncoat had proved correct. What they saw there was roughly the most Onderin could spare at the moment. Any more and his fleet would be stretched too thin. The Republic fleet had come out of hyperspace in one ugly lump, feebly attempting to form some semblance of a formation by spreading his ships out in a wide, single line. It certainly covered more area, but it would create pockets in any normal battle. While ships maneuvered through the tide of battle, dodging and weaving through volleys while delivering their own, their fleet would eventually get far to spread out from one another, creating large gaps between fighter screens from one capital to another. The formation would serve to turn a short, bloody battle into a long, drawn out one. Their fighter screen began to spread out from their hives, a most impressive sight compared to the few ships Black had brought thus far. Launching an offensive now would cause a heavy tole on the few Imperial ships already present, taking a heavy blow while waiting for reinforcements farther outside the planet's orbit to get into position. No. For now, the wisest option was to wait, and see how things went. A sigh escaped him as he leaned back in his command chair, curious as to how Onderin had amassed his fleet so quickly. Perhaps they too had been running drills, but reports didn't mention anything of the sort. Waiting, always more waiting. Despite his wiser side's advice, his finger found it's way to the small console of buttons next to him. "Admiral Starlisk, you're rather prompt this evening. Good. I had sent a boy to request a meeting with Master Darkfire and yourself a month or so back, but I never got any word from either of you. So, I figured this would be the quickest way to get your attention. Are you ready to talk now, Admiral, or would you like a little more time? Your Sullustians have....thirty-eight minutes to spare, is that enough?"

Executor-class Star Dreadnaught - Solemn Harbinger 54 Missile Boats 90 TIE/D Defender 10 Pellaeon-class Star Destroyer 38 TIE/D Defender (each) 10 Missile Boats (each) 2 Venator-class Star Destroyer 145 Missile Boats (each) 275 TIE/D Defender (each) 2 Interdictor-class Cruisers 7 Lancer-class frigate My fleet as it stands now, though, since the new fleet rules have yet to be fully implemented or play tested, I doubt that we will be using this system quite yet. For now, we'll have to revert to the old style of PC deaths to sum up fleet battles, but I will show no mercy to those who express absolutely no effort in commanding their ships. Just because the ships don't technically matter right now doesn't mean they are completely disregarded in the story. Let's keep this real, gentlemen (and ladies). Or at least as real as we can be in Star Wars. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Black out. They could be the only two words passing through the minds of those working the shipyard in high orbit above Sullust, and equally to those on the planet below. The Imperial fleet swarmed in out of the infinite of space and immediately cut communications. The Interdictors were first to activate, pulling tight the web of communication free security over the unsuspecting tongues and ears of the Republic personnel that happened to be unlucky enough to be caught in the first wave. Several of the Capital ships, too, moved forward into a more imposing positions, wasting no time to deploy the bulk of their fighters the moment they exited hyperspace. The fighters ran defensive paths around the ships of their berth while awaiting for a target to present itself. The rest of Section One went unnoticed, holding back until they were needed. Aboard the Solemn Harbinger, it took only a slight wave of his hand for the Emperor to command a communicator to his hand. Long range communication had been cut with the black out, but short range worked well enough to issue demands. "To both the citizens of Sullust, and any Republic dogs that happened to be present. The Empire is taking command of this planet and its peripheral organizations and businesses. You have one hour to comply, or I will lay the planet to waste." There was no malice, no hint of contempt in his voice, only calm ruthlessness that set in at the dawn of battle. Maybe there wouldn't even be fighting today, but that was something his mind was incapable of believing. "Oh, and my fighters are patroling your air space above orbit, so don't try to escape, or send out a distress signal in some crude fashion. It will cause more deaths than necessary."

(Nagi, until you show you're active, I'm giving your battlegroup over to Haphaestus. Once you come back, you can regain control of your position.) "Inquisitor, assist Captain Nagi with his fleet in the assault of Selvaris. You are to leave immediately. Dismissed." He spoke without turning to speak with them face to face, instead enjoying his scenic view from aboard his prestigious flag ship. Like loyal soldiers, the pair behind him turned and left, no room for questions. When they were off of the ship and reunited with their own ships, Black pulled his personal fleet out of hyperspace and recalculated their destination.

Aboard the Imperial Executor-class star destroyer Solemn Harbinger, the Emperor stood gazing as the brilliant hues of blue fly past the bridge view port. There was no going back now, not with the fleet battle ready and in transit. He had waited so long for the Rebels to screw up, and screw up they did. This would be their own fault, really. All they had to do was keep their religious in line. The self proclaimed peacekeepers of the galaxy had twice now brought the war to his Empire, and the same would be visited upon them in turn. Not once, but twice. "Captain Nagi, Inquisitor Haphaestus. Report for your orders."

"Sir....I think they've broken through the field." The sensor operator said with an unsettled tint in his voice. Comms hand been out for a while now, an unexpected effect of water pressure on a hull built only to survive the vacuum of space. Though the hull remained uncompromised, the delicate satellite dishes making communication possible had been fried. Life support and power was still full and well, but sensors were spotty, only a few of them working well enough to properly monitor what was going on outside the ship, now station. The officer only returned a stern, contemplative glare as his mind wondered about the possible outs they might have. "Scuttle the nightcloaks. Set the concussion missiles off inside the bays. They should be completely destroyed once the explosion reaches their cores. After that..." He trailed off, lost in the endless possibilities. Regulation said to call for support, or inform someone, anyone of the situation, but that was not an option. "Getry." "Yes, sir!" "Go the the upper outer hull. I want you to send out this message through code against the bulkhead. This is the crew of the His Majesties Ascendancy. We are without communication, and our supplies are running low. We have an estimated two weeks left on food, and even less in recycled air. If you are friendly, we seek assistance." The trooper offered only a nod in acknowledgment before heading out. Some time later he returned, his message sent. The officer looked around the bridge. All told, there were maybe thirty troops left, as well as one other junior officer. "Gather the rest of our supplies and bring it here to the bridge. After that, lock down the blast doors and set charges. I'm not sure who's up there, but they're not getting in here unless we let them. That right!?" A loud 'Huah' was their only response, but it was the only one he needed to hear.