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The Helvault -- Nespis VIII


handofthrawn
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This is the new CoreSec prison being built over Nespis VIII. As a member of CoreSec, I shall post the description myself instead of making it part of the first post.

 

In the upper atmosphere of Nespis VIII, the highest-tech prison ever to be created was built using CoreSec funding. It was essentially a large space station the size of a small city, designed by the finest engineers in the known galaxy for the explicit purpose of keeping the Galactic Alliance's most dangerous criminals and terrorists safely contained for the rest of their lives. Far away from the core worlds, it constituted a tiny bubble of CoreSec jurisdiction, tucked away in a place where it would be completely unknown to the galaxy at large. Despite this, it represented billions of taxpayer credits.

 

The station was constructed of only the densest and strongest materials. In the tradition of the infamous Corporate Sector Authority prison, Stars' End, it was plated with molecularly bonded armor, making it all but impervious to turbolaser bombardment.

 

There was no shortage of additional security measures. No vessels were kept in the station's vacant hangars. The hangars existed for the transport of prisoners and supplies to the Helvault, but these delivery vessels did not remain any longer than necessary. The station had no escape pods. It was run primarily by droids, which could not be forcibly hacked, with a few organic overseers. Among the droids were various security models more than capable of suppressing any prisoner uprising, configured for rapid response and primarily armed with stun weapons to keep prisoners contained.

 

The station's security systems were state-of-the-art, a virtually impossible challenge for even the sum of the galaxy's greatest slicers. The doors were lined with cortosis ore to protect against invasion by lightsaber-wielding opponents. As additional security for holding Sith and other dangerous Force-users, the entire station was contained in an ysalamiri bubble, although with proper authorization the lizards could be relocated to allow temporary access to the Force in designated areas.

 

Externally, the station was armed with several banks of defensive weapons with a focus on ion cannons. The entire station was well-shielded and EMP-hardened. Even were it to be disabled, of course, the impact with the planet below would kill any on board, making rescue all but implausible.

 

Much of the defenses, the onboard AI, and emergency protocols were run by a master droid brain called NAMU (Nanometronic Automated Master Unit), who answered only to the CoreSec commissioners and her own extensive programming. If she became hacked by any external source, she would put all station defenses on alert and then shut down rather than be controlled. She can deploy ray shields and internal suppression turrets throughout the station. If somehow a prisoner insurrection were to get out of hand, she is authorized to trigger a self-destruct sequence.

 

Additional internal defenses for particularly dangerous prisoners are as complex and nefarious as the combined brilliant minds of the galaxy's greatest criminologists and security specialists could devise.

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The cold dark of internal paralysis was comforting, Jaina reflected, as she wandered through the station silently. No tormenting half-memories, no distracting sensations of life and movement from distant planets brought her away from the present. It was these moments of quiet that she cherished, the ysalamiri-induced inner peace that felt like a splash of cold water on the skin, awakening and silencing the soul.

 

The CoreSec Cell Block B overseer, reaching her destination, brushed her fingers over the activation pad on the door. "Welcome, administrator," the mechanical voice intoned as her fingerprints were recognized. Stepping inside, she surveyed the bank of cells before her, the narrowing of her eyes suggesting both disgust and pity.

 

"NAMU," Jaina said sharply, snapping herself out of her reverie, "status report."

 

"All systems functioning normally, administrator. Documents for inbound prisoner transfer received and require your attention," the droid brain responded.

 

"Proceed," Jaina said, turning to the viewscreen on the wall adjacent.

 

Geki, Furion, Ar-Pharazon...

 

She read on in disbelief and wonder, thinking smugly, CoreSec's really stepped it up a couple notches. I wonder if these guys will even be allowed their one phone call.

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...why are the pretty ones always the most hazardous to your health?

May the Forth therve you well...

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  • 2 weeks later...

With a staccato multi-flicker of pseudomotion, a group of ships arrived out of hyperspace from the core worlds, having taken one or two precautionary jumps along the way to ensure that this new location would remain a secret. Aboard the transports were dozens of captured Sith acolytes and lords, as well as Master Ar-Pharazon, the lot of them being kept in ysalamiri bubbles and bound by various restraints of more-than-sufficient security. CoreSec had growing experience with dar'jetiise, ShadowFett noted, and his own experience was helping to equip them for the job.

 

The Helvault loomed in the transports' viewscreens, and Fett marveled at the prison's size. He had authorized and overseen its design and creation, but in person he was impressed by how large it was and how quickly it had come together. The Mando'ad thought it suitable to the task it had before it. The Sith had many allies, either from within their Order or outside it among old Imperial sympathizers or terrorists and criminals who had found the Sith to be kindred spirits. Dangerous folk, the lot of them. If the Helvault were ever discovered, it would be faced with the task of opposing even these allied forces and remaining secure or at least taking the prisoners with it.

 

Soon the transports were docking, and ShadowFett armed himself with his assault rifle, then headed into the holding area and started directing mirci'te down the boarding ramps, remaining quiet and making gestures with his weapon. While there would be little honor in the act, he would not hesitate to shoot one of them down on the spot if they attempted to make an escape attempt.

 

Not that they would have anywhere to run. In orbit over Nespis VIII as it was, only the instant freeze of space or a two thousand kilometer drop to the planet's surface against the world's atmospheric friction the entire way would await them.

 

There were dozens of beskar'ade waiting for the prisoners, and the droids soon started breaking them up into groups and herding them off to their cells. Most of the cells were fairly standard galactic fare, but the Sith would find themselves reduced to ordinary inmates with the Force having no place in this structure. Ar-Pharazon, of course, was not to be herded into one of these ordinary cells. No, there was something special for him.

 

ShadowFett stayed with Ar-Pharazon, whom he'd incapacitated twice in order to get him here. As most of the other dar'jetiise filtered out, Fett began walking the man to his cell. He was allowed to be conscious for the walk, but his bindings were extra tight and numerous after the debacle in Headquarters.

 

((Ben, you have a better talent than I for describing some sort of over-the-top prison arrangement for Ar-Pharazon. I left room for your description in the last paragraph of the opening post of this thread. The more epic, the better. Feel free to post describing it and Fett taking Ar-Pharazon there.))

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(OOC: I will do what I can as we continue this story to add some description. I’m on the tail end of my spring break and have to go back to a front-loaded week of classes, so my posting until Wednesday will be somewhat less-detailed. Sorry.)

 

IC: Ar-Pharazon flew like a winged god through red skies, answering prayers, summoning wraiths, wrecking harvests, cursing his enemies, calling up storms, and creating more and more out of nothing. He soared over cities, where entire populations perished in his wake. His mere thoughts were creative brushstrokes on the canvas of existence. His war-obsessed armies never ceased their racist crusades against the innocent. Goodness was in short order. Ar-Pharazon’s rule over the unlucky planet was becoming solidified. Then, suddenly, his power of flight cut out. Screaming in panic, he fell, like lightning, to the surface. As he was about to collide with the rocky terrain, his consciousness faded out.

 

He woke up, again imprisoned, but now somewhere entirely new. Sandy Sarna’s ridiculous demise was recent in his thoughts, but he remained entirely disoriented, still under the effects of whatever drugs CoreSec has forced into his system.

 

Immediately, he found himself unable to move, bound like a chained deity in some mythological prison of yore.

 

“Oh my” he exclaimed quietly. “Where the hell am I now?”

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[Associate of the Illinois Mafia since November 2002.]

Member of the Four Horsemen

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ShadowFett had ordered Ar-Pharazon to be awakened before he left. Maybe it was for a bit of personal satisfaction at finally having the dar'jetii locked up for good. The two didn't have a lot of history, but that which they shared was full of bad blood. It was true that the Mando'ade had long memories. In some ways, he would have preferred just to execute the man and be done with it, but he knew that it would be letting him off easy. No, he was content to let Ar-Pharazon stew in his multitude of sins for the rest of his long years, unable to leave even to attempt to make them right. Not that Fett particularly thought Ar-Pharazon capable of repenting. At the same time, here, without the Force and only his thoughts to keep him company, a man like that could change.

 

Frankly, Mand'alor didn't care. "You're in your final resting place," he answered Ar-Pharazon's question, stepping into the man's view. "You will never be found here and you will never escape." With that, Fett was satisfied. Ar-Pharazon knew that he had been bested, and that it had been Fett that took him down both times. He turned on his heel and started to depart. "Good day, sir." Soon he was walking through the ridiculous numbers of super-secured doors, traps requiring various forms of identification to bypass, ridiculous obstacles that took time to traverse all the while being under fire from a dozen weapons emplacements, and other nefarious means of ensuring the permanency of Ar-Pharazon's interment. The walk took over ten minutes to complete, even bypassing all the security measures, but he wouldn't have it any other way. It might not be absolutely necessary, but it would be all but infallible. P for Plenty, ShadowFett thought, reciting the old warrior's creed.

 

Soon he had left the area and was boarding the shuttle with the rest of the crew for departure. The rest of the dar'jetiise captured on Coruscant had been put in their respective Force-isolated cells, and Fett's work here was done. Every last transport disembarked from the station, ensuring that no one aboard could leave until more shuttles arrived, a process that required special authority. Soon, he had jumped into hyperspace, making precautionary diversionary jumps to make sure that no one could track their vector back to Nespis VIII.

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  • 2 months later...

Imprisoned in a maximum security, full-scale penal facility genuinely frustrated Ar-Pharazon, who was still under the very potent influence of incapacitating drugs. His wrists were bound. His feet were bound. His head was locked into a large helmet-like shell, hindering the basic luxury of even being able to move His evil neck. Chains were connected from His bindings to countless pillars which circled around Him. This was no way to live out the eternal life He had given Himself. Much to His dismay, The Force-negating implementations limited His ability to merely remake the structures around Him in an obnoxious and instantaneous manner befitting a god such as Himself. Still, no man or demon could ever take away His right to pray. It was the last refuge of sinners, and He was most certainly a man of transgressions. On the day of His Unholy Birth, He lucidly commanded a cadre of dedicated demons to angrily poison one thousand clerics. There was no shortage of sinful offenses. EVIL DEEDS!

 

In that instant, Ar-Pharazon began His prayer, directed to no poet-god-king, or human vicar on behalf of a lame text-based religion, or any Force-affiliated wizardly revenant that lorded over the undead, or some sort of winged reaper of the mortal life. This was the highest prayer to the highest deity – Himself. Only He was evil and divine enough to hold court over His own prayers. “Unholy Master of all that is evil, I both humbly and greedily command, and ask, You, to imbue Me with even greater strength, so that I may wrathfully destroy and desecrate this Force-damned place, in the name of Myself.”

 

Ar-Pharazon could feel the bindings on his wrists. Carefully, he uttered another silent and highly rubric-based prayer to Himself. In that moment, the bindings became consubstantial with Himself, taking on the matter AND form of both Ar-Pharazon and the durasteel. Since the bindings were Him, He would attempt to move Himself. It was as good a plan as any.

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[Associate of the Illinois Mafia since November 2002.]

Member of the Four Horsemen

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  • 6 months later...

Abruptly a MandalMotors vessel that looked more like a tank than a personal ship materialized out of hyperspace. This vessel hadn't been here before, but its pilot was the individual who had authorized and overseen the construction of the prison, then immediately stepped down from his Commissioner position. It hadn't been his purpose in stepping down to help mitigate any ill-will toward CoreSec concerning the enormous number of tax-payer credits that had been spent to make this place operational, but that purpose had been served as well. The prison was enormous and ultra-secure, something unlike anything the galaxy had seen before, even making the infamous Stars' End look like it had the security of a public sporting event. ShadowFett wouldn't have had it any other way, given the veritable crowd of dar'jetiise that had been locked away here. He would have liked to see Stars' End hold someone as adept with the Force as these prisoners.

 

So far, though, the Helvault had worked perfectly, the Mando'ad reflected as he landed. There had not been even one report of prisoner uprising that had made it out of a single cell block. Either the Sith had been completely oppressed, or they were biding their time and hoping for rescue. Such an attempt would be unlikely to succeed even with the Order strong, but Fett had made it his goal to see them wiped out entirely. Rescue became completely infeasible if he had the entire remnant of the Sith Order here. It was this very purpose that had brought him back to this place.

 

Stopping only to check in with security and let them know that he was on-site, he began the walk to Ar-Pharazon's individual prison. It required several turbolift rides in various directions, an almost labyrinthine path using transportation methods that could be remotely shut down to prevent misuse. After the last ride, he had to pass through a series of airlock-like bulkheads with multiple beskar'ad-staffed checkpoints. The doors were cortosis-reinforced and there were ysalamiri on long-term nutrient frames stationed safely in well-protected compartments at each door, making sure that neither lightsaber, blaster, nor Force use could penetrate those portals. Even once he had been through the doors, he had to bypass several nefarious devices and traps, dozens of weapons pointed at corridors, their entire purpose to ensure the continued captivity of a single man.

 

Finally, he arrived, finding the Sith Master bound like a chained god in the middle of a huge space. He was told that Ar-Pharazon had not met another living soul since Fett had left him here, having only interacted with droids. Ar-Pharazon had not had the pleasure of conversation, music, or even many of the simple things that lesser prisoners had been afforded. As the weeks and months had passed, Moon Knight could only imagine the tremendous boredom of the powerful dar'jetii, his own thoughts clawing away at his depraved mind as he slowly descended into madness. It was a terrible fate--the only one befitting of a man who had committed such terrible crimes.

 

Approaching the man, Fett intoned the first words he had heard since his captivity had begun. "Ar-Pharazon. I trust you have been well kept?" He wasn't going to cut straight to the chase just yet. Normally, that was how Fett did business, but he needed to check on Ar-Pharazon's sanity before he got down to it.

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  • 2 months later...

Ar-Pharazon had broken down unexpectedly quickly, ShadowFett realized. For a moment he considered the implications of the man's long silence and unresponsiveness. It meant that the powerful dar'jetii was no longer a resource to him, and that the man was becoming unstable. Normally an unstable being as strong as Ar-Pharazon would concern Fett, but in such a place as this, cut off from the Force and bound with such chains that he could never break them by strength alone, there was virtually no chance of that instability leading to the demagol breaking loose into the galaxy again.

 

And so Mand'alor turned away and left. It was unfortunate that he had made this trip seemingly for nothing, but he couldn't allow a bad turn to paralyze him. There were still Sith out in the galaxy, although they had been quiet since the destruction of temple on Coruscant. He would continue to do his part in making sure the galaxy would be free of their destructive tendencies and thus more or less at peace. To do that, he would have to keep his edge, and spending time in such places as this did not help.

 

Just when he began to wonder what lead would surface next, he got a ping from the Kuat system. It was a highly encrypted CoreSec comm on discrete channels, which means that KDY was taking extra care to make sure the signal wasn't intercepted by the wrong people. It was addressed to him as the head of the team looking for Sith... and as he read it, the Mando'ad raised an eyebrow. This was quite an interesting development.

 

Returning to his ship, Fett soon had departed from the Helvault.

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  • 8 months later...

Gathering all evil to him, Ar-Pharazon projected his consciousness back in time.

 

Instantly, the Sith Master’s all-powerful mind loomed over himself at a seemingly innocuous, prenatal moment. Only an infinite being was capable of dealing with another infinite being. Transcending all levels of authority, Ar-Pharazon struck.

 

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Ar-Pharazon, truly the most important being in all real and theoretical history, time, and space, ceased to exist. The galaxy, now populated with an almost infinite number of non-victims, exploded, ironically killing everyone and wrecking everything.

 

(OOC: Obviously the game needs to continue. This really won't change much for you. Don't worry! However, for your reference, this is what the everyone is experiencing now.

 

http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/DyingDream

 

This is now the RP.)

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[Associate of the Illinois Mafia since November 2002.]

Member of the Four Horsemen

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  • 3 years later...

Nulled. See below post. Post left for archival reasons. - Aryian

 

 

Chief Warden Ankermas was at his desk overseeing the ultra high security CoreSec prison known as the Helvault when, suddenly, alarms began blaring throughout the facility. Seconds later, a message came over his comms. "Warden, there is a breach in the Detention Level 3!"

 

Slapping the comm system to send a reply, the black furred Bothan yelled, "Get riot teams to Detention Level 3, I am on my way!" Without waiting for a response, he grabbed his stun batons and stun blaster and began rushing through the facility towards where the prisoners were trying to escape. There were several other members of CoreSec also rushing around, but for now, most didn't seem to be going to arms. The part of his mind not already racing with all the possibilities of how to deal with the prisoners was already making mental notes to reprimand the section leaders for their lack of preparedness. True, nobody had ever escaped the Helvault, but that was no excuse for complacency.

 

As he reached Detention Level 3, he was met by two dozen CoreSec officers outfitted in riot gear. A lieutenant, Hobison it might be, saluted and addressed him, "Sir, we had a catastrophic failure of the security fields in Cell Block Aurek, right now, all that is holding them back are the security doors."

 

"What about NAMU? What does she have to say about this?" He peered through the transparisteel security door and saw a couple dozen of the Galaxy's worst criminals running wild in their cell block. A couple seemed to already be down--not that that was much of a loss for society.

 

The lieutenant shrugged (actually shrugged!) and responded, "She says it is a mechanical issue, not one of her doing or in her power to fix."

 

"Have you attempted to breach to restore order?" Ankermas demanded.

 

"No, we are waiting for you and your orders," said Lieutenant Hobison.

 

"Foolish human, the longer you wait, the more likely the prisoners are to organize!" The angered Bothan grabbed and quickly put on a set of riot gear. As he was doing so, he growled, "It seems I will have to do this myself then." At least it was action. He was so tired of all the paperwork that came with running a facility like this. Of all the prisons he had run, this was by far the most peaceful and uneventful. It was so full of high security, nobody ever escaped and after the first two riots were brutally quelled, the prisoners didn't even try anything. At last, he would get to do something worth doing around here.

 

"Follow me," the chief warden said as he activated his stun batons, "we will sort things out right away before they get out of hand."

 

"Yes sir!" one of the officers said as he stood by to open the security door.

 

The dozen officers got into position with riot shields, helmets, and both stun batons and blasters. Despite their initial inaction, they were some of the best trained men around. They would quickly put these prisoners down and secure the cell block, of that Ankermas had no doubt. "On my mark.... mark!" he cried and the doors opened. Pounding his stun baton against his riot shield, the chief warden stormed in ready to take down whatever stood in his way.

 

His pointed ears, however, were quick to register something wasn't right. He expected to hear the cries and shouts of the prisoners and he did. What he didn't hear was the sound of his fellow officers behind him pounding on their riot shields and moving into position to take down the prisoners. Instead, what he heard was the very quiet sound of the security door closing moments after he went through it. Turning, he realized that he was alone and the rest of his men were staring at him through the door.

 

It was at that point, his heart began to race with something more than joyful anticipation. Now, the first traces of fear began to seep in as he realized the predicament he was in. Immediately, he turned back and slapped the door control which, logically, was not working in lockdown. "Open up, we had a door failure!" he cried, then realizing they couldn't hear him behind the soundproofed door, he grabbed his comms and repeated himself.

 

To his growing horror, the men on the other side didn't seem to be trying to open the door at all, but were simply staring at him with grim, somewhat satisfied faces. Realization hit the Bothan as fear was joined by the sickly sensation of betrayal. He pounded the door while screaming expletives at the men who had betrayed him.

 

A sudden silence in the cell block grew deafening enough to get his attention. He turned to see dozens of prisoners with manic smiles and makeshift weapons in their hands slowly approaching him. With a growl, Ankermas bared his fangs, lifted his weapons and shield, and vowed to take as many of the scum with him as possible.

 

* * * * *

 

Acting Chief Warden Yuuil, a ghastly looking Givin, sat in Ankermas' old desk and filed a report to the CoreSec Headquarters on Kuat.

 

"Deputy Commissioner Nantez, it is with great regret that I must report the tragic death of Chief Warden Ankermas. Earlier today, local time, there was a catastrophic failure in the security fields in Detention Level 3, Cell Block Aurek. The Chief Warden valiantly attempted to lead a team to restore order, but was cut off when the security door malfunctioned and closed seconds after opening. Cut off from support and left alone against over forty armed and supremely lethal inmates, he was unable to hold them off for long and was brutally beaten to death. If it is any consolation, NAMU managed to restore control of the door and the resulting riot control team permanently pacified the entire Cell Block. Before he died, it was reported the Chief Warden Ankermas took eleven inmates down with him and the rest were terminated by the riot control team.

 

"I know that the Chief Warden was an ardent supporter of the Galactic Alliance and had his qualms with Commissioner Mazzari's new direction, but he was still a member of CoreSec and his loss will be felt. I ask for special dispensation and a budget line item to cover the expenses for a shuttle to personally return his body to his family on Bothawui. For the moment, I have taken command of the Helvault and await further orders from Kuat.

 

"PS, it is of some curious note that, when our investigators went back and looked into the malfunction that caused the security door to tragically close, NAMU replied only with one word: Ubiquitous. I am not completely sure what that means, please advise. Does NAMU have a flaw that puts the rest of the facility at risk?"

 

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Lord Commander Raphenel Karlovci Contispex- Imperial Warden

 

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So, the Mods have actually been discussing this one on and off for a few days. It seems rather unprecedented for a grab like this, and while IC it is fine for you to make an attempt to do so, using Coresec NPCs tactically with a now Remnant faction alias is not kosher. By this time, you can assume many outposts have gotten wind of the takeovers, and options to take advantages of traitors, especially in a fortified location such as this, are limited. If anything, I'll recognize the AI going psycho, as it seems from one of your other posts that was planned and set up, but traitor NPCs at this point should be seriously limited, if not used at all. Take the Helvault forcibly with Remnant NPCs. I have left the post mostly intact above (quote it) so you can use any of it that you'd like, but as it stands, the above post violates the tactical NPC rules.

Immediately reachable by  charlesjhall@gmail.com

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  • 3 years later...

A lone MC-24a shuttle blasted in the Nespis VIII system carrying a very valuable prisoner. It landed in the small hangar bay of the Helvault, where it was greeted by a total of seven LV8 guard droids. The main droid stepped forward as the officers carried off the Sith known as Krath Apothos. "We will take prisoner 747. You may return to your shuttle and depart." The main officer dropping the Sith off hesitated for a moment. "Shouldn't we escort him to his cell or something?" "Unnecessary. You do not have clearance, nor does the facility require such actions." The droid didn't give much of any other warning. He simply turned around and began to walk towards the door as two other of the droids took possession of the cart carrying the prisoner and began to follow the other droids, all now of which were leaving the main hangar. As the droids fully left the hangar and shut the door, another droids voice came over the intercom. "Depart the facility now. Two minutes before your ship is destroyed." Understanding that this prison clearly had things under control, the main officer directed his men to reboard the shuttle, and they quickly took off to avoid being destroyed. 

 

The seven security droids moved prisoner 747 into his cell exactly two minutes and forty three seconds after taking custody of him. Putting him in his cell, the prisoner began to wake up, having the droids lock and seal the cell. After everything was sealed up, LV8-78 stood at the door to address the prisoner. "You are now under the custody of Helvault prison. Meals will be delivered every eight hours. You will have exactly fifteen minutes to eat said meal. You are free to spend your eight hours in between however you wish. We will not disturb you up except for inspections which take place every thirty two hours. You will be forced to comply and gassed asleep. You will notice that the walls damped your ability to use what you call the Force. This is for your own protection. No visitors are allowed. Only level five clearance or higher is allowed to enter the facility. When they come, they most likely will take you to trial or to be exterminated permanently. If you have questions, hit the one single button you have access to in your cell to bring one of my fellow LV8 droids to your service. Good day Prisoner 747." After he was done, the droid turned around and left the cell's view and walked back towards his station to await the next duty or assignment. 

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  • 1 year later...

Darth Mavanger's shuttle touched down at the coordinates he was given. It was odd, to be in the fight even after his departure from the Sith Empire, but he had unfinished business. He wasn't one to leave a faithful ally to rot in a cell, especially when the plan was concocted by other allies of his campaign. He was alone- his shuttle was piloted by a simple droid. None save those who would be present would know his location. The isolation of the Empress's soul was priority right now. Even now, it remained hidden aboard his shuttle. It was programmed to self destruct should someone try to board it without his permission, and if he fell on the Helvault and death truly claimed him, the crystal would fade into the wilderness of Nepsis VIII. He sealed his shuttle behind him, looking to the sky awaiting his compatriots. He was still the Warmaster of the Sith, even in hiding as the Empress had bid, and he knew they would arrive soon.

 

 

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  • 2 weeks later...

The journey to the Nespis system passed without incident, more so, it passed in silence. The frozen interior of the ship surpassed even the temperatures of the void of space that hung about the Eternus. The coordinates were easy enough to find, even as Inmortos had to take control of the lifeless body that had ferried his chariot thus far. There was only so much a dead man could do without any spark of eternity. Flying in low over the treetops, the yacht had hopefully avoided any unwanted attentions.

 

Landing, Inmortos was surprised to see another craft setting amongst the trees. As the landing ramp silently lowered, Inmortos was struck by the warmth, the life, of the planet. Even without a living and thriving civilization the place stank of life. Wrinkling his elongated scales face in disgust, the necromancer slowly descended the ramp. Plumes of frigid air rolled out from beneath the charred and tattered Jedi robes that hung over Inmortos’ Vurk body, the body of the Jedi who had fallen Calypso thousands of years ago and had been gifted to the god-king by the reawakened Sith Lord.

 

At the bottom of the ramp, they started again. The whispers of the dead; millennia old ensnared in the lost histories of this world. The necromancer grimaced. This newfound doorway into death’s deepest reservoirs torn open to never be shut again. It was not the face he intended as @Mavanger came into view.

 

Pushing the frustrations of the damned from the forefront of his mind even as they whispered to him, Inmortos regarded the Sith Warmaster with his burning red reptilian eyes. “Well met Lord Mavanger,” he called aloud, his voice deep, rhaspy and booming, a byproduct of still coming to grips with the new body that he possessed. “The spirits spoke of your presence and I will admit I am pleased to see you. It is my hope that Lord Akheron and his apprentice will be joining us. Together, we will free my wayward apprentice.”

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