Nubia

[Haphaestus]

"Focus too greatly on the power rather than your target and it will punish you," Haphaestus explained. "You have studied well the laws of nature that enact their will upon this power. Though this ability is unseen outside of those with our gifts, as electricity it is barely exceptional.

 

"Take note as these properties I demonstrate," he instructed. Again he gathered up the darkness of the room until it circled about him as though it were a storm and he was its eye. Few Sith understood as he did the manipulation of the atoms of the air, the transference of electrons as they were torn suddenly away from their erstwhile hosts. In his mechanical mind, which could look upon the stars in the heavens and know each by name even as between worlds he traveled, such was his understanding, the creation of Sith lightning was in a way a formula. And yet this knowledge by itself would not the power manifest. In duality he existed, and from his biological mind there sprung his hate which had for many years festered; he hated the Jedi for their pious self-righteousness, surely, but so too did he hate the Sith that had under his brief rule balked and rebelled, knowing not the greatness they might have achieved and lacking the constitution to outlast the journey that to victory would lead.

 

These two halves commingled, the admixture of knowledge and the power to put it to use in his dark work, he projected outward his hate and let forth another volley of lightning, but its stream and form he varied. First it arced cleanly as a blazing line, singular and narrow, before grounding itself upon a weapons stand. Then he forged it into short bursts of ball lightning in a similar way as he had when Kirlocca had against his staff persisted too long. His sorcery shifted again, and a tendril of brilliance struck a target mannequin before jumping to a second and splitting unto a third and fourth. Then finally into a great chaotic stream, broad and bright, forking as it pleased as electrons competed to find paths most efficient to the earth, unshackled by the Force.

 

"These phenomena you understand," he spoke again as his display ceased. "But though the knowledge does you credit, many who lack it may yet harness this ability. It is their focus that empowers them, and not focus upon the electricity gathering within their own limbs or digits, but upon their envisioned result and upon the destruction of their enemies."

[HannibalWasBetrayed]

Tallin sent a slow look around the room, then, prefacing his statement with a noncommittal grunt, “Stuck me with the band of misfits eh? None of you really seem to fit the imperial model, except maybe our effusive sergeant there. Well, I suppose I am as much a misfit as any of you. Names Abraxas, formerly a slave known as ZM1939NS. If you need any information, or wish me to participate in training, let me know. Otherwise, when the time comes, point me where to go, and,” his face took on a grim smile, “show me who to kill.”

[Ubiqtorate]

"Misfits?" chuckled Reasve. "We have a jokester here!" he said as he slapped his meaty hand on his knee. "Sarge here is offended at your insinuation that he is a nice and proper Imperial."

 

Sergeant Blugraz shot Reasve a look then, calmly explained, "We are all exemplary members of the Remnant forces, so have no fear, Abraxas. These three are simply 'in character' for our new mission. You see, a bunch of stiff backed, proper old Imperials strutting around Nar Shaddaa would quickly get us all dead and our mission a failure. We aren't stormtroopers or infantry: we are the ISB and more specifically, the Bureau of Operations. Infiltration is our key and we are well groomed and trained to fit into our specialty fields. This squad would never pass in refined culture so infiltration missions to places like government or high business wouldn't work for us, but we are excellent at blending in the lowlifes that inhabit the smuggling and criminal elements that run the Smuggler's Moon.

 

"You have been sent here because you know the slaving side of things even better than us and I imagine you would very much like to kill some of that scum. We have a very specific role assigned to us and our superiors seem to think you can help. Stick with us and follow orders and I can personally guarantee you will get to do your part in bringing the whole lot of them down."

 

Gortash, without dividing his attention from what looked like a small motor, said, "What is it that you are best at? What can you tell us or do to help us finish our mission?"

 

With a sparkle of her cold eyes, Yyesh leaned forward and said, "More importantly, how far are you willing to go to crush these slavers?"

 

* * * * *

 

Ubiqtorate, now alone and sitting in his stateroom office, started going over reports. He was simply not too pleased with how Governor Quaylle was handling things. Despite his very clear warnings, the man was too mired in the old Imperial ways of self elevation and corruption. ISB spies were already closing in on several illegally corrupt business dealings (nothing but bribes) that would be quite against what he had been sent here to accomplish. The goal was to end the corruption and inefficiency of the failed GA democracy and bring about a fair, lawful, and orderly system that didn't have to rely on constant pandering for votes and influence. A politician who had no need to campaign or gain votes was one that, if held to high enough standards from up top, was far harder for special interest groups to bribe and influence.

 

It was growing more and more clear to him that a change of leadership was needed. With a few short messages, he put some of his resources towards vetting a replacement for the governor. He needed someone who was a native Nubian, someone who was above reproach, and above all someone who was not out for personal gain. It wouldn't be an easy task, but he had to try.

[HannibalWasBetrayed]

Tallin laughed quietly, “Some of you seem to have gotten deeply in character. As for what I’m know best?” He paused for a moment, brushing his hand distractedly over the horns on the left side of his head, “Unfortunately, I do not know much about conditions on the surface, or the general practices of slavers and Hutts. I was forced to spend my time on the ship. What I do know, is the patterns of the pirates and smugglers. I know their callsigns, habits and strategies. My former masters were not exactly friendly with the Hutts, and knew many of the those who also had problems with those slimy sithspawn. Some of those pirates would be more then happy for a chance to take Hutts. Many of them are very mercenary, if the winning side looks like the Imperials, that is who they will fight for, or at least not fight against. I know how to act as a pirate, and could definitely get us in with a pirate-looking ship. I can pilot, and fight, as well.”

 

“As for your question, Yyesh…” Tallin turned to look at the female, all humor leaving his expression, replaced by a frozen expressions almost as harsh as hers, “I will do anything. I will Kill, anyone. I wish for vengeance. Freeing slaves is…. Secondary for me. I will act as commanded, and save those that can be saved, but that is not my cause. I will sacrifice anything I can, break any codes of honor. I have nothing left but hate. Point me to the enemy, then get the hell out of the way.”

[Exodus]

An encrypted communication fetched itself onto the Lemnos' Industries database for reception.

 

 

 

"Deimos Class X-20, ID-III Reporting from Korriban Envoy. Package has been couriered to initial destination. Intended target was not present. New objective. Cleared authority re-routed delegation to planet Onderon. Intended target was located. Korriban Envoy conscripted to the objective and has ordered that contact be made. Target it is en-route. Please be advised."

 

[Kitaara Shiri]

"So in this way, the target is more important than the technique?" Darth Angelia cocked her head at her teacher, head-tail dropping lazily to one side in the pull of Nubia's gravity.

 

If the form was thus unimportant, and it mattered more how the machinations of the mind and spirit were oriented, then her error was obvious. Releasing the tension of striving that she had conjured in her desire to make her teacher proud, her arm lanced forward once more. A trio of their Enyo-class droids stood stationary at one end of the room, intended for target practice and refinement against the pair of Sith themselves, such that their product might improve its combat capabilities. It was at these that she aimed, superimposing onto them the dark movements and figures of the Lothja mines, the stupid and weak faces of those would-be rescuers that Haphaestus had slaughtered so easily within the unforgiving blackness of under-Ryloth. Her captors, her abusers, those who had committed unspeakable atrocities against her and those with whom she had endlessly toiled: as she had promised herself she might become, as she had promised Haphaestus when he accepted her into his tutelage, she was now strong enough to defeat them with one hand behind her back.

 

From the relaxed posture of her arm, volatile hate flowed effortlessly, evanescent in its sudden appearance as it arced across the room from her fingertips, the deep blue mirroring her very flesh, as though her hatred were but an extension of herself. The pain from before was still present, but its jarring effect was dampened in the fire of her exquisite loathing.

 

Splintering and crackling, the droids' servomotors sizzled into conflagrant obsolescence.

 

"Yes," she said quietly, seeming neither contented nor dissatisfied in her performance. "I see."

 

A tremor from her comlink diverted Angelia's attention, and the Lady of the Sith procured her mask once more, melting into the demure and professional Kitaara Shiri. Expectation had not risen in vain: if the notice from her secretary was accurate, their gift had warranted the exact response for which they had hoped.

 

Displaying no reaction but the quiver of a fey smile, she regarded Haphaestus once more. "It appears, my friend...

 

"We are expecting company."

[Ubiqtorate]

Sergeant Blugraz nodded thoughtfully at his new teammate's words. "So, you would advise not heading to the Smuggler's Moon, but rather trying to contact one of these pirate or smuggling groups directly from space? We have been given the use of an old modified freighter and two hyperspace enabled Z-95 Headhunters to serve our purposes. If you know a few ways to get in touch with some of these scum, we can attempt to make contact as freelancers desiring to join up with them. From there, we can spread out our network, try to figure out who might be more willing to join us and who may simply flee or fight us. It would be best to either recruit and subdue or wipe them all out while they are clustered around Nal Hutta instead of letting them scatter to the winds and continue to menace the Galaxy."

 

Yyesh spent the time glaring at Abraxas, clearly evaluating him and measuring his worth. "Killing is good," she said. "Killing when the time is right is even better. There is a time for everything and if you choose to blow our cover or screw up, you may get a dozen kills but our mission will be blown. Kill when the time is right and you can bring the entire lot of them down and kill hundreds or thousands of the scum. It is good you are not restrained by honor because those we fight have none. Control yourself at the start and you will get a far greater prize in the long run."

 

Blugraz shot the woman a look, then turned back to Abraxas. "You may be recognized as a slave from any who might have seen you recently. Therefore, it would be best to keep you in that role when under cover. We can't have any mistakes or breakdowns during this mission. I need to know now and without any bravado: can you continue to play the role of slave until the time is right to strike?"

[Haphaestus]

"Meditate and rehearse, and this technique too will you soon find comes easily," Haphaestus said, and with a hand outstretched retrieved from her possession his lightsaber. "For now it seems we have other preparations to make. Let us not appear to the Dark Lord ill-prepared to receive him. Whoever he may be and whether we align our fates with that of his Order, he is at least a potential client that is of our greatest hospitality worthy."

 

The Sith Master swiftly departed to see to his business. The Lemnos Headquarters would be made even more pristine than they had hitherto been kept. He selected from among their most impressive models the finest droids to line their hallways that they might the Dark Lord's eye capture. Some among these were of designs not yet revealed publicly, prototypes of Haphaestus' ceaseless design cycles as he endlessly created even knowing that many would not reach full scale production. He could evoke from raw metals servants and warriors of any imaginable shape as a painter might give life to a vision conceived by no other mind; this unfettered creativity had become his chief pursuit and he found no other activity as satisfying.

 

The staff was briefed on the importance of the visitor to come and informed that the Dark Lord was upon his arrival to be conducted to the presence of Haphaestus and Angelia themselves within the meeting hall largest and most ornate. They were then to be given utmost privacy for the meeting to follow unless otherwise instructed.

 

Haphaestus, for one, would not disguise himself. He wore the trappings of his station as Sith Master. His layered black robe draped over his mantled shoulders vast and dark. His mask and gauntlets were darkmetal, etched in a fashion similar to the chassis of his droids. He had for many years associated closely with the Sith, and it was likely that the Dark Lord would be one with whom he was already acquainted; few deceptions would thus avail him.

[HannibalWasBetrayed]

“Yes, Sergeant,” Tallin replied. “There are haunts, dives that these type congregate in… Certain phrases, on certain transponders, on certain planets, for certain, individuals. Some will prove…. unreasonable, though most can be bought, if the Remnant is interested in that option. Perhaps third party contracts could work as an introduction. It may also provide opportunities for easy elimination of a few particularly obnoxious pirates. Fights between rival groups are fairly common and not well investigated, it would be easy to disguise a “hit” as a fight.”

 

He turned a measured look across the group. “My hate is not such that I cannot see reason. I will not blow our cover, nor betray the remnant, save if some major insult is offered to me first.

I…… do not think it is wise, to pose as a slave. Escaped slaves are not uncommon, and joining another group would seem natural, while instantly returning to slavehood without a new number might prove suspicious. If I am recognized, I will either be congratulated or shot at, while if I am acting as a slave, I may simply be shot at or beaten, and attract unwanted attention to the group. I would not be able to go places as a slave, or be left alone with a slave collar around me. In addition, if I am recognized, and mine enemies offer a price beyond that which you can reasonably deny, for the purpose of slaying me, what then?”

 

His eyes took on a glassy stare, his gaze seeming to pierce the walls of reality into that place where memories rest. “To have that collar about my neck…… to be in shackles again……. to be like an animal, chained and feral…….. to be pierced and beaten, the whip upon me…….. to be known once more by these numbers upon my throat…… to have my life held at the whim of another, to be without hope, to die meaninglessly by a single mistake, to be slaughtered if the attack fails, and the slave collars are triggered………… to be called only as ‘Tallin Shag’ again……” his eyes returned to their normal state, though the emotion of his words had vanished from his face, a face like a black hole, not only without feeling, but as if all the memories and feelings which created emotions had been sucked in and destroyed, “No, I would not appreciate that.”

[Raven Nasra]

The construction of the Imperial forward Ubiqtorate base onboard a Golan II began after the protests had settled. The Imperials would not give up this world easily.

 

Construction will finish 10/13/2017

[Kitaara Shiri]

Until word of the Dark Lord's arrival would make its way to the Lemnos Industries headquarters, Kitaara Shiri would pace relentlessly in the waiting. Usually reserved for VIPs arriving to receive demonstrations of their product, the private landing pad and its adjacent lobby were kept pristine, outfitted with every amenity in the most tasteful and elegant application. In this case, all of the usual staff had been given the day off, and the only other bodies in the room beside Kitaara's were the deadly shells of their militant creations. Like a gauntleted hallway adorned with suits of armor absent life, they stood resolute, flanking the path that led to the meeting hall in which Haphaestus lay in wait.

 

While he had not opted to disguise his true nature to this Dark Lord, Kitaara herself had compressed her presence into the diminutive and copacetic Twi'lek brand ambassador, the public face of the company who was expected to be effervescent and sweet, excitable and emphatic. Her business attire was crisp, and she remained unarmed, opting to conceal her lightsaber within the meeting hall through the adjacent door. Her presence in the Force was hushed to a whisper, drawing herself in as small as she possibly could, employing every trick in her arsenal to appear as ordinary as a secretary.

 

No test for the Dark Lord, it was instead simply a matter of protection. Kitaara's identity as Darth Angelia was one of the most precious secrets guarded amidst the halls of Lemnos Industries, and it would not do to reveal it to the wrong parties.

 

Still she paced the length of the gilded lobby, a feral jungle animal electric with anticipation.

[Ubiqtorate]

Ubiqtorate looked out into orbit to watch the progress being made on the new defense platform orbiting Nubia. Contracts to build the station had gone a long way to showing both the working class and the military establishment that the Remnant was serious about providing both employment and protection. The station wasn't invincible, but it was more than the Galactic Alliance had stationed here, and the fact that it would be commanded and mostly crewed by native Nubians was a major propaganda boon. That last part was implemented by his personal command at the suggestion of the ISB PR analysts over the objections of some of the Remnant officers. Having Nubians in command helped squash the naysayers' lies that the Remnant was conquering and subduing Nubia. No, the Remnant was welcoming the Nubians into a new partnership, one where they would be valued and allowed to defend themselves. There would always be those who opposed progress, but those voices were growing quieter and quieter every passing days. Protests now consisted of a few dozen pathetic individuals with nothing better to do with their lives but whine about everything. Most everyone else was back to work and enjoying the large number of contracts the Remnant was providing.

 

"There is nothing that can be done," he said in answer to the question posed to him moments before. "The Remnant under Head of State Zinthos doesn't tolerate corruption, even from its 'favored sons' as you put it."

 

"But, surely there is some way this can be overlooked," said an increasingly desperate Governor Quaylle from behind the ISB officer. "I am the one who brought Nubia into the Remnant, surely that calls for some sort of reward."

 

Ubiqtorate frowned under his helmet. "Your reward is knowing you brought your people into a more efficient and productive society that values hard, honest work and not corruption and waste. You are improving the lives of your people and helping them know safety. That is your reward."

 

"It is only a few small business contracts I helped get passed. These are old friends who helped in the installation of the Remnant, they needed to be repaid."

 

"No, it is corruption and bribery, both of which are not acceptable in the Remnant. It is such actions that made the Galactic Alliance so worthless and that made the old Empire so feared and hated. I warned you, governor, that the days of profiteering off of the backs of your people were gone. You choose to ignore that warning, so now you pay the consequences." He rotated his chair back around to view the doomed man flanked by grey armored stormtroopers. He slid a datapad over to the man as he continued, "The Head of State appreciates your actions in bringing Nubia into the Remnant. That is the only reason why you are not on your way to a very dark cell. Instead, you will live out the rest of your days on the Villa de Cazparte. You will be given a small stipend and two groundskeepers. You can communicate and receive guests, but they will be monitored. If you ever try to get back into power or conduct any sort of business again or if you leave the Villa without Remnant permission, you will be put up against the nearest wall and shot. Is that most abundantly clear?"

 

Before the former governor could respond, Ubiqtorate waved his hand in dismissal and the stormtroopers lifted the man up by his arms and dragged him away. He had no more time to deal with such stupid corruption. Instead, he looked over the profile of the most recommended replacement candidate: a Member of Parliament from an old Imperial family that had proven herself to be quite able, seemingly clean of corruption (at least, as much as any politician could be), and had been educated for a time at the Imperial Academy on Carida when she was younger. Katerina Sforza seemed the best current candidate for the position, so he sent a summons for her to come meet with him down on his planetside office. He would go there shortly, as soon as the initial expeditions as part of Operation Whitehelm were away.

 

((Edits were to add portions for Tallis. Thought I had time, but I did not, so removing those parts and posting later))

Edited October 3, 2017 by Guest

[Sheog the Mad]

The Hutt’s heavily lidded eyes blinked as The Demented Madness came out of hyperspace above the planet of Nubia. From the scanning from his highly upgraded Luxury Yacht, The Imperial Remnant had full control of the planet. A Golan II platform was in construction, and in sweeping arcs flew two squadrons of Scimitar Assault Bombers and four squadrons of Tie Defenders. Amongst their center a Mark III Assault Cruiser slowly cruised along, a heavy hitter from the time of the Galactic Civil War. The Eventuality of Justice was its name, according to the transponder tag, and even with his stealth drives, The Mad Hutt was sure he was being scanned.

 

He flipped a few switches to seem busy, and looked across his squad through the cameras in the storage bay. The Storage bay was now mainly a bathhouse for Hutt families, and the saunalike temperatures would help Hutt pores release their caustic slime in heaps. For now, it was the holding bay of his Sith troops, Two Krath Lords, Masters Vindalo and Karema, Human twins from Serreno who wore their crimson cloaks and bore single-bladed lightsabers. Assassins Vae and Vosh lay in one of the reclining pools, the water lapping at their deep black cloaks which concealed synthweave armour. The pair of Sith Warriors, both taken from the Greyjoy ranks before being trained as Warriors, wore heavy battlearmour and carried double-bladed lightsabers. Four Sith troopers in ebony armour lounged best they could with their heavy weapons and grenades. Four Tuk’ata with coats of deep crimson fur, rippling with musculature beneath snythweave armour played fetch with bath bombs. Rampage and Greywolf squads, the best of the Krath.

 

Sheog drew his eyes from the console and looked at his own transponder signal, observing his current alias. He placed the webcam on his dripping and oily face, his deformed face trying to manage a smile as he opened his comlink

 

<>

 

Sheog made a particularly despondent sniffle and a large oozing blob of snot ran from a misshapen nostril

 

<>

 

He brushed away a tear from his eye with a chubby finger

 

<>

[HannibalWasBetrayed]

After a moment, Tallin looked about the room, his expression returning to its normal impassive state, judging the lack of verbal reaction from the people in the room. Most of the members of the squad stared at him with a wary expression, as if he was a strille whose chain was close to breaking, hands creeping close to concealed weapons, only Gortash seeming unaffected by the nervous energy filling the room.

 

Tallin sighed and ran a hand over his eyes, a momentary pause above his scar breaking the smooth motion, “I apologize for my outburst. It has been a… trying day. I seem to have lost both my ship and my shipmate. I will return to my room for the moment, we should reconvene when, if possible, a different plan is developed in which I may be useful to the Remnant. It has been an honor to meet you all. Good day.”

 

With a slight bow, Tallin retired from the room. Remembering the fairly direct path back to his assigned room, he slowly returned through the long corridors he had earlier walked, a crushing feeling of his lonely position falling upon him. In his room, Tallin grabbed his datapad, sitting down on the perfectly uniform regulation bed, and brought up the current status of the tracker he had hidden in his former Preybird.

 

The hard mattress barely depressed as he lay down, murmuring up at the grey ceiling, “Where are you taking my Preybird, Celora? What adventures will you go on?”

[Ubiqtorate]

The squad wasn't hostile to their new member and understood the trying times. After a little while, Reasve stopped by Abraxas' room and let him know the squad was meeting for dinner in the mess. While he was clearly an outsider, the team recognized his potential usefulness and were not put off by any of the social deficiencies being a slave brought about. After all, they were all experts at infiltration and all had some pretty strange quirks and habits that made them generally less than fit for actual integration into society. They respected skill, efficiency, and usefulness and Abraxas showed promise.

 

For the next two weeks, the group ran through training and simulations for various situations. There were many sessions where ISB Intel questioned Abraxas and gathered whatever information he could provide. Other times, he was with the squad practicing infiltration, assault, and teaching him what sorts of targets were vulnerable and the basics of how to dismantle organizations, installations, cities, and even planets from the inside. It wasn't enough to make him an expert by any means: that would take years. It was, though, enough to help him gain some confidence and for the team to get to know and build some trust with him.

 

Finally, they were summoned by one of the generically bland human males that the ISB so loved due to their unremarkable appearance and ability to blend in anywhere. The squad found themselves in a small briefing room complete with various maps and holos of Nal Hutta. With little preamble, the man said, "Your squad has been designated Fastbend Squad for the duration of this mission. Your target is to make contact with and either co-opt, subvert, or otherwise neutralize the pirate group Stonehound Raiders. The Raiders operate with around three converted freighters, a scout fighter, and perhaps three old Y-wing bombers. They typically operate along the spice routes between Nal Hutta and Kessel.

 

"Despite working with the Hutts on occasion, the Stonehounds seem to be just as likely to attack spice smugglers as passenger liners. This sometimes puts them at odds with the Hutts, though it appears they manage to stay ahead by playing off various crime syndicates against each other, raiding one while offering tribute to its rival. We do not believe they have direct contacts with the Kalimore Ascendancy, but the fact that they work with the Hutts should allow you to get your foot into the door on Nal Hutta.

 

"You are to make contact with them, offer your services, and get yourself down onto Nal Hutta by whatever means possible. Offer the Stonehounds the Remnant amnesty if you think they will take it. If not, offer to simply bribe them. Fear not, the Remnant doesn't pay off criminals so if they refuse the amnesty, they will be dealt with as the pirates they are. Bribes may not work, so you are authorized to simply neutralize them, assume their identity, and make your way to Nal Hutta.

 

"Once on Nal Hutta, you are to locate and neutralize the power grid in Bilbousa. We have several possible locations that may be vulnerable, but ultimately, it is up to your prerogative to decide how to proceed. Once the power is down and the main attack is launched, you will locate targets of opportunity and neutralize them. Assist the civilians and especially the slaves if possible, but the best way to help them in general is to end the fighting as quickly as possible by eliminating pirate hostiles. You will honor any Hutt Clan forces who agree to be neutral in this conflict, we don't need any more enemies and will need their support in maintaining order on the planet afterwards. All Hutts will be required to follow Remnant laws, but as long as they do, they are to be left alone.

 

"To do this, you will be given the converted freighter Ghost's Chance, an old YT-2000 we have outfitted with an extra two forward heavy laser cannons, and two proton missile launchers with 20 missiles each. The shields have also been upgraded, though all work has been below Remnant standards, they should be as good or better than what normal pirates can do. Overall, the ship is an excellent addition to any small pirate band, so we hope the Stonehounds will be glad to have you. If not, your weaponry should be able to destroy them."

 

The officer handed out datacards with additional information then asked, "Any questions?"

[Exodus]

Dark Lord Exodus could feel the soft escape of hyperspace as his personal vessel diminished speeds. His head leaned forward before his eyes shifted open, his dreams were becoming more cryptic. There were voices in the dark that called out to him, but the words fell on ears that could not decipher the meaning. His eyes burned loudly, and the wrinkles above the bone of his nose tightened in vexation. The world of Nubia drew in front of his view, and the nuances of the dream faded from his mind. The Lightbreaker brain-system handled the entry protocols, and surprisingly, Exodus had slumbered through it all. "Lord Exodus, shall I run your vitals?" the voice was sharp and intuitively concerned, perhaps because in their short time together, Exodus was always consciously present for any exchange of words. "I am fine. Look around us, adversaries everywhere. Get me to the destination." The voice of the Spider was daring, just as it was on Carida. The odds were an interesting measure for him, and they said that this was more than likely a trap, but Exodus had a card up his sleeve just in case. The Lightbreaker moved past the chaos of construction, understanding that the Remnant had their sickly hands all over this airspace.

 

 

• The final coordinates were set, and the Dark Lord would was moments from re-aligning with The Mad Hutt, and confronting the mystery of Lemnos.

[HannibalWasBetrayed]

Tallin brushed his hand thoughtfully over his facial scar, an odd habit he had developed. "Only a couple. Am I to use a separate set of Identification, something other than my current status as possibly wanted escaped slave? Do we have any backup, either during the infiltration of the Stonehound Raiders, or during our mission on the planet? And how shall I identify myself to Imperial agents or Imperial troopers while undercover?"

[Raphanel]

The ISB agent at the subspace traffic control point on the Eventuality of Justice laughed into his muted mic.

 

Though hutts were slimy and mostly disgusting creatures, they were good for a laugh every so often. Even if his brethren across the galaxy would be about to receive the long arm of the Empire up their collective rear ends soon enough. He received the docking codes sent up from Lemnos, and matched them to the hutt's craft and a separate unknown craft, a few finger strokes later, the hutts vessel and the other was given clearance to land on system, with a minimal guard of 12 TIE defenders watching from their usual patrol points along the orbit. He re-toggled his mic,

 

"Safe travels, if anything Ewoks need a bit of a rejuvenation after their homeworld got nuked, best of luck."

[Kitaara Shiri]

Frowning at the display on her tightly clutched datapad, the Twi'lek, her presence still stifled through the Force, opened the intercom that connected her to Haphaestus.

 

"We have two ships incoming, not only one. What do you make of this?"

 

Alarm seemed as of yet unnecessary, but Angelia had long since learned that anything out of the ordinary was worth attention. Coincidence did not exist. If the Dark Lord saw fit to bring an accompanying retinue, they may yet find themselves needing to be on their guard.

[Sheog the Mad]

Vindalo’s purring voice whispered into the Mad Hutt’s ear as the Demented Madness made its descent towards Lemnos Industries. For some reason the name made the Lord of the Krath crave the crisp and refreshing flavour of Mackerson’s Hard Tea, which sent a wave of nostalgia through his rolls of fat. The days of his youth, sipping Hardened Tea from a pint glass, the ice tinkling against the glass, the other hand cradling half a white-cake, watching the cottonfields in full bloom being worked by underpaid immigrants. The crack of the whip. A scream of agony. Delicious Mackerson’s Hard Tea, now with a twist of lemon, the drink of the upper class.

 

...Oh Lemon Industries. Whoever named this must love citrus to name this thing after them… Maybe it's a reference to the sourness of the life of the plebeians...

“Master, scans indicate the Dark Lord has not yet arrived… Should we proceed as scheduled?”

 

The Hutt let the overly large craft settle on the landing platform, dangerously close to the edge. The ship shuddered as the landing gear attempted to find purchase, and in response Sheog selected a repulsor setting to keep them hovering. Despite his attempt, a flap of hanging flab from his underarm raked across the control board, cutting power from the engines. The Demented Madness slammed to the decking with a large bang that reverberated through the hull. Vindalo and his brother caught their footing with ease and made their way to the landing ramp, smirks of mirth on their faces. They were joined on the decking by the assembled team of Sheog’s retinue, while they awaited the Mad Hutt’s arrival.

 

They were greeted by the massively overlarge Hutt momentarily, who wore only his simple utility pouch, slung on a bandolier across his quivering chest. The leather strapping dripped with oily sweat, and squeaked softly with each exertion of his breath. He had forgone his typical eccentric outfits, and they could feel a roiling hunger within the force that spoke volumes to his mindset. Sheog nodded to each of his team in turn, every member of Greywolf and Rampage squads returning it with a laugh or a joyful salute that hailed back to ancient dictatorships that had made genocide the fashionable trend. The Hutt’s voice was interrupted as he began with a belch

 

<>

 

The Sith squad nodded, straightening their uniforms, but keeping to their relaxed stance. They were the Hutt’s trusted men and women (Sheog was an equal opportunity employer of killers) and reflected the lazy nature that was exuded within the veil of the Force. They were bound to him eternally, and each of their minds were his, a reflection of his vices and demons. The landing ramp lowered, sunbeams passing like blades through the spiced pipesmoke, revealing the lopsided view of Lemnos Industries. Sheog passed first down the crooked ramp and caught sight of the datapad bearing Twi’lek. Her skin sparkled like sapphires, the shade of the Kaminoan sea past the Yarrin Rift.

 

The Mad Hutt, flanked by his casually walking troops, scooted across the landing pad, leaving a trail of slime behind him with each push of his muscular tail. His staff clicked on the plated decking, sending small sparks about his heaving belly. Sheog’s voice boomed across the bay, carrying with it the translation in the Force, and an uncommon kindness.

 

<

[Exodus]

The svelte curvature of the Lightbreaker machine now haunted the private landing bay from above, materialising from out of the blue. The Nubian irradiation kissed the black warcraft as it descended onto the platform, while beams of the nearest sun shattered upon the cold steel. Inside sat none other than the Dark Lord of the Sith himself, Darth Exodus. His flesh and bones was tailored in black leather with dull moss-colored armorweave and a brassard of obsidian armor that was trimmed with trace amounts of lustrous gold. All of these carnal items were impeccably set against a long length of cloak that was painted in all the aforementioned colors, and royally so. The locks of his hair was bound back in a tight ponytail, leaving most of his face bare but still married to the metal of his half-mask. His eyes were the only true reveal, lusters of olivine curiosity closely following the rest of the activity before him as he landed. The company of the Hutt and his escort were readily identifiable, but there was a single Twi'lek who stood in the distance.

 

The hatch of the hull opened and pressurized air vented forth, bathing the rest of the ship in a thin layer of steam. Exodus stood up from the belly of the cockpit, his eyes searching all around, searching further than what conventional vision would ever allow any sentient creature. His mind dissected the information faster than one could perceive them; colors, creatures, shapes and any form of irregularity were just a sample of his plate. He could feel out this environment as the winds brushed passed him and he searched the motions of it all, or the lack thereof. His face showed no tell, expressing indifference at most and killer instinct at best. The cloak fastened to the shoulder straps of his brassed now unfolded, and unveiled a rather large family crest. The name Syn was buried in the mysterious hieroglyphs of the insignia. The Dark Lord marched from the cusp of his ship and continued towards the Twi'lek from the opposite angle that the Hutt pushed forward in, both of their dark energies reconciling once more by mere proximity.

 

 

 

• "The travel has been far, Twi'lek. I hope you do not aim to disappoint me." The dark voice carried across the landing bay, dauntingly echoing against the roar of the Lightbreaker.

[ReignOfKarth]

"Um, Hello!" Eyes turned to see a small human girl standing near the side of the landing bay, a slightly confused expression on her face as she surveyed the assembled personages, before she focused her attention on the large Hutt. "I was just hoping to get my ship repaired. I heard that you guys might do it, not sure if I'm even in the right place though, the directions were pretty scetchy... Is this Lemnar, no, uh Lemona, ugh whatever it's called. You guys seem to fit the whole motif going on. I landed nearby, there weren't any people around, just some weird droids and stuff. If this is a bad time, I can totally come back later, not entirely sure where to go though. So are you the person to talk to, or...?"

[Ubiqtorate]

The intel officer looked at Abraxas and smiled mirthlessly, "You are in the Bureau, you don't get backup, you don't know who is coming after you, and you don't know who may or may not be your friends. Rule of thumb: if they are getting in your way, they aren't friends. All Imperials would have the same goals, so anyone straying too far out of their goals is doing something wrong and thus forfeit their safety. There is nobody assigned to work on the Stonehounds, and if you see people protecting your assigned target on Nal Hutta, they aren't helping the Remnant. It is a high risk job, but it also yields high rewards. If you want safe and simple, join the infantry."

 

Blugraz slapped Abraxas on the shoulder, "Don't worry, he is messing with you...mostly." He pulled out one of the small spinning Sidget Finners™ from his vest pocket. "You don't think we keep these things around simply because we have no way to control our nervous tics, do you? They are biometrically linked identification units. Spin them up while holding them between your thumb and forefinger while within a meter of your body and it will send out a confirmation and identification signal to all Remnant forces within a kilometer. These are the basic units, the higher ups get special ones that do more. Thing is, we need to chip you so nobody can use these without you. Things don't work unless you are alive, too."

 

"Usually," Gortash chipped in, "if you kinda run around waving your hands saying 'don't shoot, I'm on your side!' it works really well."

 

Yyesh slapped him in the back of the head and said, "Ignore him. If you ever have to make contact with Remnant forces in the field, simply surrender and don't try to do anything stupid. Let them know you are with the ISB and they can verify the rest from your biometrics. It may take time and you may be in a cell for a bit, but it beats being shot. Of course, if you have to surrender to Remnant forces, it means your mission failed. Otherwise, we will return as a team and identify ourselves via an assortment of passcodes and phrases picked up by our observers."

 

"Everyone has a specialty, a job to do," said the nameless Intel officer. "You will now be known as 'Schrond Equast' until otherwise informed and a better identity can be created, co-opted, or found. Your mission is simply to guide your team in, help them navigate the world of these pirates, and, if things fall apart, fight your way out with them. Once you land on Nal Hutta, you will use whatever knowledge you can to survive and complete your objective of taking out the power stations. You will have plenty of supplies and explosives on your ship: we even gave you a portable proton torpedo launcher so you can even use the torpedoes from your ship."

 

"Try not to stress over it too much," said Blugraz. "Remember the training you have received these last few weeks and you should be fine. Reasve is pretty good in a fight, that is, if Yyesh lets anything through for him to play with. Between the two of them and me, we shouldn't face anything we can't handle and will all come back and share a strong drink or five after the mission.

 

Gortash laughed and added, "Either that or we will all be captured, horribly tortured, paraded in front of jeering crowds, and eventually executed through excruciatingly slow methods. Good times, either way."

 

Reasve folded his massive arms across his even larger chest and said in his deep voice, "Welcome to Squad 247, kid."

[Haphaestus]

Within the meeting hall awash in reds and blacks, Haphaestus remained still and looked upon their guests as they landed and disembarked. The first to arrive was of all creatures a Hutt, a race of which the Sith Master was not fond. Yet he knew this being as Sheog, and that beneath a facade corpulent and a manner uncivilized there existed a keen mind within which resided secrets of Krath sorcery known to none other. This, too, was a Sith Master. Though Haphaestus had before encountered him but once, he had a considerable reputation.

 

But Sheog was not the Dark Lord, and Haphaestus was glad of it, for he would not treat with an Order that by the Hutt was led. It was his perception that though Sheog had gifts uncommon among his species, he had not distinguished himself from them in his gluttony for splendor and excess. Only in the absence of such things could a leader build a lasting reign.

 

Soon the true Dark Lord did reveal himself, and Haphaestus knew it the moment that from his vessel he did depart. It was Lord Exodus. One that had once been attached to Nurgle, and whose trials to Masterhood Haphaestus himself had once overseen. This was favorable news for the Sith Order that one such as he would now the dark mantle bear.

 

Answering Angelia view the intercom, he bade her invite Exodus inside and accommodate those of his entourage which might by his request accompany him.

[Sheog the Mad]

The massive Hutt propelled himself towards the Dark Lord of the Sith, he himself staying silent as the leader of the Sith Order addressed the Twi’lek as he had. Sheog himself was offput by the number of droids he could detect through The Force. Their metallic taste within the Force was unmistakable, reminded him of a more organized Kain. Fleeting flows of energy crackling across circuit boards, twisting in processors, driving a hivemind that rivaled the one he shared with his own forces. He let a small sigh escape his blubbery lips, coated with slime and bits of half-digested food. His own gluttony had accomplished far more in the galaxy then things like these droids. Sentient in name only, hollow souls without purpose, bound to the will of masters. The Hutt was unbound by even the shackles of sanity.

 

The tinkling voice of a girl caught his attention from the shadows. His crimson eyes fell upon a teenager with a mane of shaggy hair and a scowl that was unrivaled in ferocity. She looked to him as cute as a Shevestian Kit freshly weaned from mother’s milk, fancying its first taste of bloodied meat. The Hutt let out a small gasp as his mind washed over her with the attention of a worrying mother. The girl had a signature within the Force, unbound by training. She felt like an unsharpened dagger, as likely to hurt the wielder as the target. He responded to her with the beckoning of a hand and a kind word

 

<>

 

He waved to Exodus to hold up a second as he heaved his girth to follow the fast steps of the man. His retinue were bewildered by their unlikely addition. Vindalo, unsure how to address a teenaged girl other than Hayley, handed the girl an E-11 Blaster Rifle.

 

<>

[Kitaara Shiri]

Before she felt him within the Force, she smelled him. What had amounted to a thousand years of torment in the wake of Hutt-slime stench left behind in eternal tunnels below the ground, stagnant air festering and strangling the optimistic glimmer of youth that may have remained, was not easily scrubbed from the slate of Kitaara's memory. The last time the stench had dared trouble her nostrils, she had achieved victory via the exsanguinated carcass of her first slave master, though he was not a Hutt himself, having made his abode on their burnished and worthless "Glorious Jewel".

 

Nevertheless, there was an unmistakable aura of power that surrounded this particular Hutt, though focusing most of her efforts on dampening her own presence through the Force, she was unable to truly discern the nature of the beast that arrived before her. Haphaestus' message through the intercom served to confirm her suspicions: if this Hutt was a member of the Sith retinue, he would be admitted to such an audience as their guest of honor deemed fit. Then he spoke, invoking the title of the Dark Lord, lending additional credence to his arrival. The second pilot that landed, however, was obviously a spare who had no business at this meeting, and had been severely misdirected. Resolving that heads would roll downstairs after the meeting, she flashed a set of teeth brighter than starlight at the Hutt, demurely bowing her head in acquiescence.

 

"Yes, of course. I am Kitaara Shiri, the head of public relations here at Lemnos Industries," she began, in the routinely rehearsed and utterly seamless presentation of her public persona. Owing to the effort she invested in dampening her signature in the Force, deeming it prudent to conceal her abilities for the time being, there was virtually no chance that the Hutt or any of his staffers would discern the truth of her identity as Darth Angelia.

 

Turning to the tousle-headed human, a girl several years her junior, however, there was a wary glint in her eyes present in the most practiced of customer service personnel. A polite firmness entered her voice, and it became apparent that the presence of this extra, no matter how quickly she was adopted into the Hutt's rearguard--a strange turn of events, and awfully trusting for an unknown quantity--would no longer be tolerated. "I'm sorry, you were misled. If you would like, I can have one of the secretaries assist you with a list of referrals for companies better able to meet your needs. I would suggest starting with Nubian Star Drives in Nuba City," she offered, but as a third ship touched down, an exhilarating chill tickled her very bones. Utterly distracting in the form of exquisite darkness, it rendered the child she spoke to irrelevant in her entirety, and despite herself, Angelia gravitated toward its source. The newcomer, he who could have only been the Dark Lord by his gait and his tangible aura of power, did not address the Hutt, and yet seemed unperturbed by his presence.

 

Dripping with lethality, poised like the most elegant of predatory felines, his approaching footsteps induced a phantasmagoria of dreadful ambition. Here, at last, she may have stumbled upon that which would offer her sufficient power to free her brethren from the shackles that bound them, to break the gates of unjust prisons with a fist made of darkmetal, to shatter the imbalances of the galaxy on her words alone. A new dimension, ethereal and enigmatic, taunted her, merely past her proverbial fingertips. The hazy peridot veil of the Dark Lord's eyes promised such knowledge. His words were filled with blackened puissance, a challenge mired in their depths that Kitaara would not dismiss unanswered. He called her by the name of her kindred, a fettered and oppressed people, and tucked within such careful application of language, she found a veiled insult, an insinuation that she, too, must then be fettered and oppressed.

 

However, she would answer it in her own way, with the dignity afforded her by her teacher's instruction, not in some showy and juvenile display that mewled for attention like a Sullustan's hungry whelp.

 

His name, that which had been whispered in holonet broadcasts, sprang immediately to mind, but there was no reason to trifle with formalities of which she already possessed knowledge. Her name would be the only one required here.

 

"My Lord, would you truly have come all this way if our gift was disappointing?" she said enigmatically, with all the crisp professionalism of her carefully erected facade. "I do not wish to keep such an esteemed guest--and his friends--waiting. Please, follow me."

 

Bowing her long-tailed head in respect, she gestured with an open palm toward the door behind her. Lithe footsteps so controlled as to be silent--even though the Twi'lek was wearing a terribly impractical pair of business shoes, the haute couture befitting someone of her position--evaporated in the vaulted ceilings of the ornate atrium. "I am Kitaara Shiri, public relations," she said as she arrived at the opposite end of the hallway and her palm depressed the security panel for the door, which acquiesced to the suggestion of her touch, "and this is our Head Designer, Vulkas. You may know him by a different name."

 

As the panel gave way to the carefully crafted interior, walls etched with the same runes the Lord Exodus would have seen on his metallic Demons, the figure of Haphaestus came plainly into view.

[HannibalWasBetrayed]

"Do. Not. Touch. Me... Please." Tallin ground out between gritted teeth, stepping away slightly from his squadmates. "Only my friends may touch me, and though we have shared training together, and soon may be war-brothers, we are not yet friends. Only with a very long time, or other such circumstances, can I trust one and call them 'friend'."

 

Turning his attention to the ISB agent. "Schrond Equast, eh? It's almost as if you didn't like me, officer of the ISB. Nevertheless, I thank you, and am ready to begin our section of this struggle. What is the last known location of the Stonehounds?"

[Dashel Illioni]

Heart of Darkness maintained a modern up to date I.F.F transponder, so when the Golan III class combat platform interrogated his ship, Uriel new he’d pass as a freighter. A smile graced his face at the thought of what kind of freighter captain needed his armaments, but then a detailed background check would explain the heavy on board armaments.

 

His ship’s purpose, and the legitimate company it was owned by specialized in delivering V.I.P’s and secure cargos. If one needed to hide, why not do so in plain sight? Especially since he’d yet to secure the systems to allow planetary incursion’s with stealth.

 

A dozen low, fast orbits later he located the faint transponder signal from the Madness. He circled twice more twice more to assure his instruments that Master Sheog had indeed landed there and to allow himself time to pick a nearby landing sight that gave his ship the high ground over his lordship. All to fresh in Uriel’s mind was the Mad Ones betrayal on Hoth.

 

With a whisper of protesting hydraulics, Uriel set his ship down with weapon’s and a brief walk’s distance from his Master. He ran down the hill with Maire beside him. The young girl kept up easily, flowing over the ground as much or more as running until both found themselves stopping and then bowing before Sheog and quietly falling into place within his entourage as Uriel's Master and another Dark Lord met.

[Ubiqtorate]

Blugraz merely smiled at Abraxas' reaction, but he did withdraw and put his hands up in mock surrender. "Okay, kid. Though I hope you don't get all prickly like that if we go through security. Sure, you went through some rough stuff I am sure, but you are going to have to learn to live with things."

 

The officer stared at the Zabrak and said in complete indifference, "Your name is what came up. Your like or dislike of it is irrelevant."

 

"Yea, do you really think we choose or like our names?" said Blugraz. "I mean, really 'Blugraz'? It sounds like some sort of horrible genre of music from a pathetically primitive backwater planet."

 

"Or a new type of greenery that purportedly has hugely health benefits," added Reasve. "Heck, even the Stonehound Raiders sound like they came up with their name while drunk or otherwise inebriated."

 

The ISB officer cleared his throat, "Latest intel places the Stonehounds outside of Kessel marking spice smugglers to hit. We have loaded the drive signatures of at least two of their ships to your own. See if you can get lucky and hit the target they were eyeing and make an offering of the cargo to them. Smugglers are scum and work for the enemy, so you may consider them fair game. You will need to depart immediately."

 

"Well, squad," said Blugraz, "it seems like our little vacation is over. Say goodbye to the pleasant greens and blues of Nubia and hello to the sickly green and browns of Kessel."

 

The rest of the squad got up and began collecting whatever extra gear they wanted from the armory connected to the briefing room. As this room was for the ISB and not normal infantry, there was a small selection of various exotic, non-standard, and modified weaponry and gear that would fit in well among the dredges of society (and in truth, much was confiscated from pirates and smugglers).

 

"Go ahead, Abraxas," said Blugraz, "load up with what you feel comfortable using. See you in the main hangar bay when you are ready."

 

* * * * *

 

A small blue light began blinking on Ubiqtorate's desk. He waved his hand over the light and activated a small holo text message that hovered over the right side of his desk. Beneath his helmet, he smiled and pressed a red button under his desk to deactivate his office's security systems and allow for the entry of two of the more interesting people on the planet. Imperial Knight Halan and his partner, Knight Nessa, entered and offered a simple nod in lieu of a salute. Ubiqtorate returned the nod and gestured for them to take two of the three seats in the office. As expected, they declined and remained standing.

 

He appreciated that about the two. They had been sent here shortly after his arrival and he still wasn't quite sure what to make of them. They were not normal members of the Remnant armed forces, but with the Imperial Knights which answered ultimately, like him, through a different chain of command that went straight to the Head of State. As far as he could make, while they were to follow his or perhaps the planetary Governor's recommendations, they didn't directly answer to either, just as he didn't answer to any of the Grand Admirals or even Grand Moffs. It was a grey area that he found both perplexing and highly curious.

 

"How may I assist you, Knight Halan?" he asked pleasantly. He greatly respected the Imperial Knights and was pleased that there were some Force users out there willing to do what was needed and fight the evil of the Sith and Black Sun. Since he didn't command them, he preferred to treat them as, if not equals, at least as diplomatic guests or allied commanders from a foreign nation in joint operations.

 

"We have felt a disturbance in the Force," the middle aged human said. "Both Nessa and I have felt it, but we are not quite sure where it is from."

 

Ubiqtorate nodded. He didn't understand the Force, but he respected it. "Very well, what do you recommend? Should I put the planet on high alert? Is there about to be an attack on Nubia?"

 

Nessa shook her head, "No, it isn't anything urgent or directly threatening, just a change in the pattern of the Force. The dark side is growing."

 

"Could this be due to the impending operations in Hutt Space?"

 

"Not likely, this feels much closer," Halan answered.

 

While he preferred more specific, black and white actionable intel, only a fool would ignore the Force. "I will place our forces on alert, but refrain from high alert. I will also double patrols and scans of the area and tighten security for incoming ships. I will also recall all units currently on shore leave. It is probably best we do that anyway with Operation Whitehelm beginning soon. It is best to prepare for any repercussions or retaliations, even from the Galactic Alliance."

 

"We will continue to open ourselves to the Force and read what it says," said Halan. "We will tell you immediately if anything changes."

 

"Thank you both, and never fear to send a message or inform me of anything. Some in the Remnant may not like your kind, but I definitely appreciate the assistance."

[Exodus]

The spider could feel the unease of the small human woman as she stumbled onto the scene, uncertain of the company she had now found herself in, outlandishly unseasoned for the danger before her. An innocent fly, soaring blindly into a vicious web. Publicly, the rumors were that the Hutt was infamously the Mad one, unnervingly dangerous to the bitter core. There was a thing to be said about the quiet ones however, and the explicit thoughts running through the mind of Lord Exodus were beyond frightening. He only truly deferred his impulses to see if anyone here would correct the confusion first. The temptation of violence that curdled inside of him was not unwarranted or driven from some benign bloodlust. He was a character of tact and lethal precision, but this human woman represented an element unaccounted for, an invariable threat to the importance of this meet alone. He would gnaw a jagged rupture into her neck with the sharp of his canines and chew into her with the wildness of a carnivorous beast until her windpipe collapsed into pieces, ensuring her voice spoke nothing of what she saw here or who she now laid her eyes on. The real question was why hadn’t his own kin and the ones who served, seized this unknown variable and thought in the same likeness? The question swam deeply in muddy waters, puzzling beyond comprehension.

 

His predatory snare waned, and the vexation across the skin of his nose flattened to an ease. The Hutt surprisingly took the passive route, addressing the woman with comfort and even stranger than that, equipping her with a weapon. Exodus stood still, watching while he could feel his own body multiply in tensile strength. His face showed no change from his prior indifference, yet the power of the dark inside of him could feel the uncanny fluctuations of the force, yielding peculiar strains of information that seemed to whisper to him by the Other Side. This pairing of Sith was enough to conquer the known galaxy, and the danger the two represented even on their own was severely incalculable. A darker thought surfaced in his mind as he searched the rest of the creatures that had accompanied the Master Krath here. “If this was a ruse, was the Hutt he chose a part of it?” The idea pressed his strategy more than he could anticipate, and Exodus smiled at the irony of it all, savoring the challenge that this would present if true. Betrayal was an expected element within the Brotherhood of Darkness, an old and tiring concept that had brought them to ruin for decades, but an element that Exodus felt he was more than qualified to handle.

 

 

• This would be a powerful Empire, and he was the one true Dark Lord, King of all Sith. He would rule with an iron fist.

 

He continued forward now, ignoring the arrival of what seemed to be yet another vessel. The power of the ship flattened across the landing bay like a heavy storm, pushing his ceremonial raiment into a dance against the winds. Exodus carried forward into a small enclosure, leisurely recounting the number of droids that were immediately visible, lining the elegant walls that were washed in red and black hue. Their shapes and sizes varied in subtle differences, but an important consistency trailed through them all. The similarities of excellent craftsmanship in these droids were identical to the ones that had arrived on Onderon; one of the reason he would chance such an anonymous invitation was the unequivocal quality invested in each of these and the suspicion he acquired over the process of their creation.

 

“Master Sheog. It is quite alarming the way in which these strange beings continue to rear their heads in my private affairs,” Exodus suspended his forward momentum and nearly pivoted to face the growing company that trailed behind him. “Whether it is because this place requires a dire lesson in the importance of their security measures,” Exodus shot a threatening glance towards the Twi’lek. “... Or those that follow you, are foolishly unaware of the enemies that surround us.” He let the reality of the situation sink in for just a moment before he continued, realizing the defenses and armies of their enemy were mobile right before their very eyes. “I will have no more of it.” The sound of his command echoed hard, seemingly ricocheting through the mounds of metal that the droids were composed of, hammering through the halls and crashing into the hearts of all present on the landing bay. “Remain here, and destroy any further hindrances. If I do not return, bleed this wretched world dry.”

 

Despite the adverse circumstances, Exodus placed a great deal of faith into the Hutt Master. Truly one of a kind, and the fiercest creature he had ever known. His intention was to draw the uncouth beast into matters of cutthroat diplomacy, eager to witness if he could wield himself appropriately before the unknown. It would remain a mystery for now, due in part to the disarray of their audacious guests. It would be severely unwise to leave the cattle unchecked, but the surplus of amenities were of course a matter in which the Hutt would happily divulge. He gestured for the Twi'lek to continue and shadowed her walk along the pathway they had set out beforehand, until he at last came to stand before Lady Kitaari herself and the door that would passage them into the next room. The Dark Lord bowed his head by a tilt in respect to her amiable patience, but he could taste the sour of something far more sinister beneath her veil. ".. Public relations, you say." His voice was calm and curious but still carried the dark power and authority he was known for, his eyes glowed with an exotic wrath that was never truly directed to anyone in particular. Behind him the Sith took up position at the opposite end of the hall, their hidden eyes scanning for anything out of the ordinary.

 

 

The door opened wide. Exodus stepped fearlessly inside the chambers as the Twi'lek spoke her introductions. The fever of the darkness moved with hysteria now. Blackened runes covering the walls thrashed with an energy as emphatic as war drums. The distractions of the world drowned out to the power of the Force, carrying an unstable gathering of the dark alongside it. This reconciliation was one of decades, a lost paradigm of perfection between two demons of the Sith.

 

 

• "..Lord Haphaestus."