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Star Wars CLOSED Star Wars: Episode V: Twilight of the Force II: A Father’s Fate

Discussion in 'Role Playing Forum' started by Sinrebirth , Nov 5, 2019.

  1. darthbernael

    darthbernael EU Community Mod, House was on fire, didn't do it star 4 Staff Member Moderator

    Registered:
    Apr 15, 2019
    OOC: Want a finale from the 'bad guys' get a finale from the 'bad guys', with @HanSolo29 and @Sinrebirth

    IC Aryan Graul, Bernael, the Saarai-Kaar, Gaeriel, and Jalynn
    Bakura to Nubia


    The reports filtered in, the victories all but assured at both Nubia and Naboo. Certain of Aryan’s feelings about Nubia and desiring to hand him the planet on a silver platter, as it were, Bernael ordered the GEMINI craft to maintain the orbitals, firing when fired upon but otherwise policing the craft that remained of their foes. All damaged units were to move to the stardock facilities they had to effect repairs and return to service.

    He had a plan, an idea, that he would refine as the ‘Court’ was moved to the flagship. Before he left the conference room, he turned to Aryan, ”I believe we should both attend to Nubia. I will feed and leave you a pristine world otherwise, that you may repopulate and set as you desire. I know you wish them punished and this is the best way. I will take the Saarai-Kaar ahead to the flagship and you and your family may join us, your throne can join mine there. We will see you aboard.”

    Aryan canted his head, though he did not immediately respond. He was too enthralled by this moment; he wanted to savor their victory and to reflect on everything they were able to accomplish:

    Naboo and Nubia burned, the Council had pledged their fealty, and several other systems—including Bothawui, Thyferra, the Hutts, and the Tapani Lords—had requested a mutual-aid treaty to maintain favorable relations. In time, he was certain that they would yield to the new order and fully commit their support.

    The Eternal Empire had passed the test today. They had risen above the ashes to establish themselves as a galactic power.

    Inclining his chin, Aryan finally pivoted on his heel to regard Bernael and the Saarai-Kaar. "Much as my homeworld has served as a public demonstration of our capacity and strength, it will now become a beacon of rebirth. We will wipe the slate clean and start anew to build an ideal society in our image."

    He exhaled softly and nodded his head in approval. "Congratulations, my brother," he beamed as he flashed a triumphant grin, thumping the end of the scepter against the floor to salute their success. "I shall be along shortly."

    Bernael nodded to his brother, let his arm slip around Marana, and they returned to the elaborate shuttle they had arrived on, the Knights that had led them to the Palace falling in around them as their guard once more. The flight up was quiet, Bernael considering what he’d decided was what he would do at Nubia.

    When they arrived, he dismissed the Knights, suggesting that they study recent history, learn all they could of the leaders of the various factions, their habits, their typical movement patterns, and so forth. They would develop plans to deal with any or all of them when or as needed. Marana, however, he tucked under his arm and walked with her to their quarters.

    When they arrived, he let the door shut behind her before pressing her against it, removing her helmet, and kissing her before stepping back. ”Marana, we have a little time before the others join us. Your Knights I will train as promised but you will get as much of my training as possible.”

    He stepped back, sitting on the bed, looking up at her. ”When we arrive at Nubia, I am going to have the Eternal cruisers there attempt a variant of something that was done around 4400 years ago. I am already as close to immortal as possible but you and Graul are not, yet. I have a billion and a half souls to be able to consume so there will be enough to enact my plan.”

    * * *

    In the silence that followed, Aryan slipped out into the adjoining corridor to attend to more personal matters. While there were still a few loose ends to address prior to their departure, he found that he could no longer ignore the restive stirring in the Force. He had first noticed it during the Council meeting, a subtle pulse at the back of his mind that had only grown more vibrant as time elapsed.

    It hadn’t taken him long to identify the source as Jalynn’s restless energy. The girl had become fearful and nervous, a warranted response after being thrust into such an awkward situation. However, it had the potential to develop into something more precarious without any mitigating measures. It was Aryan’s responsibility to rein her in and assume control.

    In addition, this also provided him an opportunity to bond with her; to understand her on a more intimate level. Despite the time they had spent apart, it was something he now desperately craved. He wanted to ensure that he stepped off on the right foot.

    Tapping on the edge of the doorframe to announce his presence, Aryan stepped partway into the small office space Jalynn had chosen as her current refuge. "Hey," he drawled evenly, a broad smile instantly spreading over his countenance as his eyes took in the delicate features of the young woman sitting casually at the desk. Gaeriel sat beside her with her legs crossed in her usual way, and while Aryan afforded her a small nod in acknowledgment, he was here solely for his daughter. "I wanted to check-in and see how you were holding up."

    Without waiting for a reply, he rested the scepter against the wall and approached her slowly. "I understand that this is a lot to take in, and it will take some time to adjust to all the changes, but I’m here to help." He then knelt down, taking her hand in his. "We’ll be departing for Nubia shortly. I was hoping that you would accompany me? I would love to show you where I grew up."

    The GEMINI droids held fire as instructed at Nubia, but continued their devastation of Naboo without issue.

    Marana for her part was putty in the hands of Bernael, and she sought to mould her body to his as they kissed, drinking of and being drank of. The Saarai-Kaar was besotted with him, warped by the darkness of his essence...

    ***

    Conversely, Gaeriel was relatively silent to Aryan's mind, but she did smile, warmly, at that. "We would very much like that," she took his hand, the one proffered to Jalynn, and placed it on her stomach. "It's a boy, by the way." She hesitated. "I was hoping to call him Arek."

    Jalynn's eyes widened. "This is amazing, Dad - we can be a true family - a new one, and we can be amazing." She admonished him. "I'm fine, I promise. I just spent a few years on Sarafur - I'll get back into things, I promise." His daughter kissed him on the cheek.

    ***

    Bernael returned Marana’s kisses. An almost smirk appeared. ”Should my plan come to fruition I do expect that my brother will be asking for the same treatment that I will extend to you.” he said as he came up for air, his lips breaking from hers.

    ”Should it work, I will no longer stand alone for eons, you will be by my side.” he told her. The thought of having a devoted companion that he was as close to certain as possible would not turn to dust long before he did was a comforting thought.

    ”All we need now is Aryan and his family to join us here and we can begin the journey to Nubia and enact my plan.” he said before returning her attentions once more.

    ***

    Aryan’s lips parted in surprise when Gaeriel announced that she was with child. The news ignited every nerve-ending in his body and caused his flesh to practically ripple with excitement. It was the Force responding to his sudden euphoria, a galvanizing effect that heightened his senses to the point of physical pain.

    It was so potent that when Jalynn leaned close to kiss his cheek, her gentle touch left him reeling. Nevertheless, he still reciprocated her affections, pulling her close to envelop her in a tight embrace. This was a joyous occasion, a celebration of new life. That more than compensated for the temporary discomfort.

    "I know you will, sweetheart," he murmured quietly, drawing on his daughter’s elation and projecting that as strength to ease her lingering concerns. "And we’ll work through it together. That’s what true families do, right?"

    He flashed a warm smile before turning his attention back to Gaeriel. He noted that her thoughts were oddly quiet to his perceptions, though he did not confront her about it. It was likely the result of her delicate state, and he would respect her sensibilities during this special time.

    Instead, Aryan nestled close to her side and lightly massaged her stomach, reaching out with the Force to touch the developing mind of the child within. It was still very early in her pregnancy, but he could already perceive the baby’s life force. He was innocent and pure, almost as if he was a gift from the gods.

    "Arek," he whispered into Gaeriel’s ear, his smile widening to emphasize his joy. "It’s perfect." Reclining back, his blue-gray eyes then shifted to meet her gaze. "Absolutely perfect."

    Without waiting for her to reply, he pressed his lips to hers to consummate their love through a passionate kiss. It was difficult to say how long they remained in this position, but when they finally parted, Aryan felt contented in both body and mind. This was truly a new beginning; the pinnacle of their success.

    "We should probably go," he uttered after a moment, his voice rife with emotion. "Bernael awaits our arrival on board the flagship."

    Gaeriel smiled at Aryan; all the fear of the past days melted away, and she accepted that this was the man she fell in love with. Not a monster, no, just unchained, as she had always encouraged. She kissed him deeply, and Jalynn waited a moment before hugging them. Her father and mother; they slid into her heart in that place forever more, as if the existence of this new child turned the key in her definition of family.

    After Aryan spoke up, Gaeriel nodded. “Well off we go!” In short order they were in orbit and the flagship was on deployment; they were en route to Nubia; to enact their revenge.

    The Eternal Fleet had shattered the New Republic force rushed to save the world from the Bakuran fleet, smashed the planetary defences, and then crippled the capital with pinpoint fire before ceasing their bombardment. Now they were applying a truly horrific amount of firepower to clipping the wings of fleeing civilian ships, as they spread over the surface. On the far side of the planet ships were still escaping into hyperspace, but the Eternal Fleet was reinforced now; they could spread and turn the blockade into a complete one.

    Their forward base; their bridgehead; their spear, stabbing into the heart of the New Republic...

    ... of course the civilian population was in uproar, hating on Aryan with every fibre of its being...

    ... unaware of who they should fear.

    Bernael walked onto the bridge, a dark smile under his mask as he saw that the second Throne had been placed near his. Through the viewscreen, he observed a world in flames, a world filled with hate. The smile curled up more as he sensed against who the anger was directed. They hated their own but they didn’t realize their own was not alone.

    He nodded to his brother, gathered the Saarai-Kaar closely, and moved closer to the viewscreen. He glanced around, noting who was here. Turning to the holo AI’s of Lana and Theron, “Set eighteen of the cruisers around Nubia, three rows of six, in geosynchronous orbits. And then, GEMINI, connect me directly to each GEMINI droid that commands the ships.”

    As he felt his orders being relayed, the ships moving into position, he turned to the little family group of Aryan, Gaeriel, and Jalynn standing there. An eyebrow rose behind the mask, sensing the fourth spark that was part of the family. He stepped closer, coming to a halt before Jalynn first. “You should not witness Nubia’s punishment, Jalynn. Please make yourself comfortable in your family’s suite and not watch,” he said quietly.

    As she moved away, doing as he’d asked, he turned to Aryan, “Brother, it is time for Nubia to understand the true wrath of the Empire. To know that death awaits those who are traitors, who betray those they gave their allegiance to. And while the galaxy will not know how it occurs, the ripples in the Force, the end of those who fought against us will be felt and seen.”

    He nodded to his brother, looked at Gaeriel. “You will be witness…” he began, then his head cocked to the side as he studied her further. A low chuckle came from behind the mask. “Interesting indeed…”

    Stepping back for a moment he gave her a short bow, “So he is still around. Good. Next you see the Black Coat, tell him that Zas’tel, that Nevet, has returned and has chosen to complete his work. Tell him that he can either work with me and accept it or stay out of the way, but his plan will come to fruition.”

    He was unsure that Aryan would fully understand so he turned back to his brother. “Aryan, or should I say Joren, or perhaps Sistros, my brother, our Master never truly died. He has been pulling strings behind the scenes for millennia. For eons, before the Change, I fought him, attempted to stop the End. But now, now we stand in his place.”

    Aryan canted his head as he regarded Gaeriel under a suspicious gaze. He found it troubling that she had seemingly conversed with the elusive Black Coat in private, especially after he had clearly absorbed the man’s essence into the Scepter of Ragnos.

    Was it possible that he still existed in some form? Had the ritual been another artful deception?

    An artful deception.

    Those words resonated with his very soul, along with the knowledge that his brother had only just shared with him. There was a connection there, a tangible line that linked his history to the names and instances inherent in Bernael’s explanation.

    The Master.

    Joren.


    He recognized them both, though he could not quite place the context. It was like gazing upon a distant memory, hazy and corroded by the inevitable passage of time. And yet, he was still able to extract three prominent emotions that easily pervaded his thoughts:

    Betrayal.

    Guilt.

    Obsession.


    All fundamentally his, and yet…not.

    The ambiguous meaning led to frustration, prompting Aryan to scowl as he thrust his hands into his pockets and turned toward the main viewport. He would continue to ponder it, of course—perhaps even consult the Holocrons or Bernael himself for answers—but for now, he had to concentrate on Nubia.

    Bernael’s hand reached up and the mask came free. As it dropped away from his face it revealed his Anzati features. Darkness dripped from his eyes and the Dark Side rose around him, tendrils of energy weaving in complex patterns. “It is time.” he stated, a harsh, guttural tone echoing from his lips.

    As he stepped up next to Marana, he placed a hand on her shoulder, “Be prepared, this will be painful.” The tendrils of darkness shot out from him, lancing through the flagship as though the construction was nothing. Eighteen of them reached out, touching the GEMINI droids that commanded the cruisers he’d had positioned. Many more began their descent to the surface of Nubia.

    His mind reached out, touching every mind on the surface, his power flowing deeply. ‘You have made a choice and choices have consequences. Today the consequence has come for you. Rejoice though, you feed a greater power with your choice.’

    The space around Nubia, as the citizens looked up, disappeared, the sun dimmed from their view, as darkness surrounded the planet. It slowly descended, the closer to the planet it was the more it seemed insubstantial, until it began to touch each Nubian. To feed the fear, the terror, to knowledge that all would die, he let an epicenter form, directly below the flagship.

    The dark tendrils that touched the GEMINI droids reached out, down into the darkness that swathed the planet, at first all lancing to the same point, the epicenter. The first Nubians affected began to scream, to wail, to writhe in pain and horror. To those far enough away, for now, they could see their bodies lift from the floor, from the ground, and twist in unnatural positions. Eyes rolled back in heads, limbs contorted.

    And then it was that even smaller tendrils of darkness seemed to touch their heads. The shrieks and cries grew in volume, even as their bodies seemed to dry out, to desiccate, to sink into themselves. As they did, the tendrils grew, pulsing, energy pouring from the Nubians up into the larger tendrils, from them into the cruisers, and then finally into Bernael.

    As the tendrils from the cruiser spread, the waves of death spread with them, similar to the ripples on a smooth surface of water when a stone is dropped into it. From that one point death followed, not just the death of the body but the death of the mind, of the spirit. Nubia, the sentient portion of it, at least, withered and fed the creature in orbit.

    Energy poured into Bernael, he seemed surrounded by a cocoon of Darkness. Inside he fed and fed, more than he had even on Metellos, three times as much as he had there, four times. He had grown in power and hunger since that mass feeding and this began to satiate that hunger.

    His hand reached out once more, following the tendril that touched the Saarai-Kaar and she groaned as Power flowed into her. Bernael touched every cell of her being at once, changing them, adapting them, modifying them, until cell death became something written in the span of eons rather than the lifetime of a human. Even her pain fed him and she became bonded to him, her essence, her mind, to his as no other being in this reality was. Sistros came close but that was due to their souls millennia of brotherhood as well as the GEMINI bond. This was...personal.

    A smile crossed his face as his plan began to work in this regard. He was using an adaptation of what Vitiate had done at Naethema so long ago. That Sith had 9000 Sith Lords’ worth of energy to drain to accomplish his immortality but 1.5 billion normal souls would do the same trick, or at least a portion of them would.

    His gaze turned to Aryan, “Nubia is being cleansed,” he growled out, somehow the dark depths of his eyes still visible through the cocoon. Returning his gaze to Nubia a predatory smile crossed his face as the wave of death filled a hemisphere of the planet. And then a curious realization came to him, even as he fed his hunger expanded. It was something he would have to keep a rein on as he could not eat every planet they had, yet.

    The display kept pace with the wave of death, a counter in the upper corner of it ticking ever downward as it registered the loss of life on Nubia. A chilling chuckle emanated from where Bernael stood, as the wave swept down toward the endpoint. There was no emotion in the laugh. His hand raised, pointing to a spot on the planet, “Your mansion brother, the terminator of this wave.”

    The wave collapsed onto that point and the mental anguish of a billion and a half lives ceased to be heard, there wasn’t even a wave to pulse into the Force from the planet of their deaths, they simply ceased to exist at all, body and spirit alike. And then a pulse of energy flew from his finger, just as the wave rebounded, “A gift, my brother, the planet truly cleansed.” As the wave raced back, everybody of every Nubian turned to ash and then finer particles before disappearing completely, leaving a living world devoid of sentient life.

    “More for Jalynn than anything else, she does not need to see that,”
    he told Aryan as he called the Darkness back into himself, pulled all the energy into himself, and slipped the mask back into place. Pulling his Consort closely, feeling her through their bond, he smiled, “It is done, Nubia has received its punishment,” he said, nodding to Aryan.

    A single ship escaped it all.

    The GEMINI provided data on it, that it was a souped-up shuttle bearing New Republic colours. It was the only one though - scans confirmed that the entire planet was now bereft of life.

    Billions of souls filtered through Bernael, and he catalogued their mundanity; not a single one bore any information he did not know. The Saarai-Kaar wept at the brilliance of her God; so touched she was by his incredible strength and power.

    The power was incredible as wave after wave of pure darkness washed over Aryan from his position beside Bernael. It crackled the air with a constant stream of electricity, a vibrant lightning storm that formed scintillating patterns among the dancing tendrils of energy.

    In fact, he felt as if he could reach out and physically touch this strange phenomenon, though he quickly decided against it. Despite his expanding abilities, he was uncertain whether he could contain such power. It pained him to recognize his limitations, particularly when he was so close to fulfilling his destiny, but he had not yet ascended to the apex of his rule.

    His brother’s efforts further compounded those sentiments when the Anzati assimilated with the raging storm, augmenting his powers and transferring some of that energy over to the Saarai-Kaar. As a result, both became virtually timeless. That notion carved out a hollow spot within Aryan’s chest, a deep longing that he recognized as envy. He wanted to achieve the same level of greatness as his brother; to rule perpetually until the End of Time ultimately revealed itself.

    Immortality.

    A wolfish grin spread over his features at that thought, his gaze lecherous as he stared at the couple. At this point, the effects of the ritual were likely impacting his faculties, causing him to behave in a way that was unbecoming for someone of his stature. He almost felt intoxicated, wavering on the edge of insanity…

    And then it was all over.

    The activity around them ceased, and Nubia was no more.

    Aryan exhaled slowly to regain his composure as he stared down at the green orb below; it was serene, beautiful. From now on, his homeworld will only exist to reflect his own image. He will build a new society from the ashes of the old, one that showed promise and contributed solely to the posterity of the Eternal Empire. No longer will they endure hardship or pain. This was his sanctuary.

    Of course, in the midst of his glory, he was also aware of GEMINI’s update about a single ship that had apparently escaped the desolation. It was tempting to have the Eternal cruisers pursue the fugitives to complete Nubia’s cleansing, however, Graul refrained from giving the order. He decided that they would better serve his plan as messengers. They had witnessed the full might of the Empire here today; let them pass the word along to the rest of the galaxy to heed their warning.

    With a satisfied grin, Aryan turned to acknowledge Bernael. "Well done, my brother," he drawled in a deep baritone, his chin lifting marginally to show his admiration. "A perfect display of our capability and strength. Very impressive, indeed."

    He stepped back to the viewport and spread his hands wide. "And now we usher in a new era under our jurisdiction; let the recovery process begin."

    TAGS: @Sinrebirth, @HanSolo29, The rest of the Galaxy
     
    Last edited: May 3, 2021
  2. galactic-vagabond422

    galactic-vagabond422 Force Ghost star 4

    Registered:
    Jul 11, 2009
    (OOC: A combo post between @Sinrebirth and myself.)

    IC: Ka'rta
    Mandalore

    "I'll be right there." She said stalking her way out of the café. Her meeting with that man had put her on edge. There was a threat to the Mandalorians out there and they would need to be ready for it. Then she gets a call from Arthur a man not know for his panicked nature, breathless. This was not boding well.

    Within the hour she arrived in the Osik weapons still at the ready, prepared for just about anything.

    There was already somebody else there; Jir Yomaget, who Ka’rta would know as the head of MandalMotors. Arthur waved down the Osik, running to the ramp.

    “The tectonic activity - from the ritual that Zorn did, it revealed something - something on unclaimed land -“

    Jir stepped over, taciturn as ever. “Mand’alor.”

    Arthur pulled a face at that, but pressed on. “It a lode - a big one. Not even a small vein. We’re talking a sizeable deposit. We would never have found it without what Zorn did -“

    Ka'rta furrowed her brow, they couldn't be taking about what she thought they were. They thought they had found every last drop of it on the planet. There might be a few small veins that brought in some, but nothing on the level they were talking about, but she had to confirm.

    "Beskar?" she asked expectantly.

    Arthur gripped her forearm. “Beskar.”

    “Enough to power a new golden age,” the leader of MandalMotors said. “And I already have a ship which I reckon could benefit from a beskar skin.” Jir’s eyes sparkled with the potential. “Shall I call it in?”

    "Get, every, miner, we, have, out here." Ka'rta said her heart racing. This was what they needed, an injection of beskar to kick start their anemic military. "This will make our ships the envy of the galaxy, our armor will be a bulwark against the galaxy. This is the start of a new era, an age of Beskar..."

    Jir was on the comms, and Arthur grinned. “This is it, Ka’rta. With more beskar, we can make ourselves into a true power. No need for auretiise wars to pay for our imports - for our food. I can feel a resurgence coming.”

    The head of MandalMotors chimed in. “I’ve rallied the old miners and blacksmiths to get a team out here right away,” he grinned. “And my surprise is on its way.”

    There was a sonic boom - the noise of a ship approaching. It was a sleek, black wedge, and as it landed it inverted, landing much like a Firespray, but with a smaller footprint. Jir began to do a sales pitch. “After the Battle of Mandalore, it took us most of the last decade to get our production line up and running, let alone look at anything else. All of our research ended up in this prototype.”

    He gestured vaguely as a Mandalorian popped the canopy and jumped down. Jir continued. “15 meters long and 8 meters width, with depth of 4 meters; class 0.4 hyperdrive; four blaster cannons and two additional weapons mounts. Needs one pilot, but we have ideas to make a two person trainer.”

    He continued on.

    The hull was a plain, clean-lined "V"-shape with a squared-off tail and a dark gray finish with high-tech baffled exhausts to enhance its stealth capabilities. The four blasters and two additional weapons mountings were all located on the underside of the fuselage. The cockpit hatch hinged at the top for entry and the bottom edges for ejection, but there were also side hatches, and on the prototype, these bore the mythosaur logo stenciled in a lighter gray colour.

    Late in the design process, the design was modified to add a protective layer of beskar armor. The designers considered applying this as either as an outer skin or part of a laminated composite spaceframe. The initial prototype was completed with an ultra-thin beskar outer skin - basically all that MandalMotors could scrounge up - but there was also some discussion of a heavier layer of solid hull armor.

    “Kyr'galaar - "death-hawk" - is what we called it at prototype stage, but I personally preferred the old names - from a simpler time.” Jir shrugged. “If we’re going with this, complete with beskar... I’d want to call it the Bes'uliik - "iron beast" - in honor of those ancient Basilisk war droids of our warrior past.”

    Arthur’s eyes were basically saucers, they were so round. Jir for his part grinned at Ka’rta. “Want to take it for a spin?”

    Ka'rta smiled under her helmet. It was quite the sight, fully mandalorian, and laidened with beskar. Beskar that would come from this lode. It was a new era of Mandalorian independence. They would claim it with their own iron covered hands. Nothing would stop them this time.

    "Yes..." she said walking up to the fighter.

    It was an incredible ship. It was so light, with the micronized beskar skin. So that meant it was faster than an X-wing - a lot faster. The two spare hardpoints could fit missiles or more blasters, making it well armed as well. Jir reckoned they could get production lines up and running pretty quickly.

    By the time the test run was done, crews were already arriving. They were milling around, the various clans chatting excitedly before they regarded the Bes'uliik - already affectionately nicknamed the Bessie - landing in its beautifully small zone. There was a loud noise of appreciation from them - "Kandosii!"

    Ka'rta could feel the power in the ship, the speed, the power, it would cut through the skies. She wondered if they could put some torpedoes into it, give it some teeth, made them a threat to capital ships. It would save their battleships from having to go broadside for broadside with their enemies. This would turn the tide in any war. Their best pilots in these ships it would make everyone think twice about encroaching on Mandalorian airspace. And possibly with this show of strength others might see it and join them. Expanding the protectorate, giving them a buffer between Mandalore and this threat coming from outside.

    "You think we can give this thing some teeth, something to go up against Cap ships?" She asked the designer.

    Jir tapped his chin. “If we sell a lower spec version of this, say, one only slightly better than an X-Wing, rather than the much higher spec you have here... we could probably afford baradium again?”

    Arthur looked surprised. “That’s big booms.”

    “Big booms,” Jir nodded. He glanced at the miners, who began to get to work. “But we’d need to float this on the market. We might get some visitors.”

    “Not if we use the prototype to make a point somewhere,” said a voice. It was Venku. “Hit a world hard and people won’t think about visiting us.”

    “What world?” Arthur challenged the new speaker.

    “Big one, there are a lot of unaligned worlds now.” He shrugged. “Or she can pick.” He indicated Ka’rta.

    "Taris," Ka'rta said, "Taris will make a good demonstration of our power. Make it clear that the Mandalorians are back. And that we are willing to fight, and expand. A show of force, then a light hand in ruling...well, as light as beskar can be..." She gave a dark chuckle, "A silk glove behind an iron gauntlet..."

    The clans bundled in, eager to get back into the pilots seat of Mandalorian destiny. No auretiise would decide anything for them ever again. Warriors offered their beskar to the cause while the blacksmiths and oresmelters got to work; in short order eleven prototype Bessie’s had that armour spread across the hull - a full squadron. They launched, equipped with concussion ordnance until baradium could be procured.

    Venku corralled as much support in the clans as either Madelyn or Ka’rta could’ve, but it was all focused on the coming attack. He had identified the perfect target; the ancient Jedi Temple on Taris, restored by the Old Republic in memory of what Malak had done to the world. He held out a comlink. “It’s a public museum nowadays. Very popular this season. We can either give them fair warning, or blow it up. Taris doesn’t have much in the way of defences even with notice. But you don’t strike me as the kind of woman who blows up civilians if she doesn’t have to.”

    The lead Bessie was also unclaimed at present. Venku was looking at it on the landing field, unhelmeted and immune to hushed comments that he looked almost exactly like Jango Fett.

    This was their big moment; when they’d put Mandalore back on the map. They’d show off their new fighters, and their new beskar, and the galaxy would know that they had the teeth to defend it - as would the Yuuzhan Vong.

    "We'll give them a heads up." Ka'rta said moving towards the unclaimed fighter. "I want a show of force not a terrorist attack." She let out a breath seeing a full squadron of their new pride and joy. She would lead from the front, she would do what she had always done, lead from the front. "Mount up and be ready to go..." she called out.

    The Mandalorians shouted back that they were ready. They were all ready. For four millennia the clans had struggled to find their place. The Crusades had been lost, and they’d spent years poked between the Jedi Republic and Sith Empire. The Yuuzhan Vong, by all accounts, would be a fresh change.

    They didn’t even debate the attack on Taris.

    They just prepared.

    Built.

    Armed.

    It was time to show their teeth.

    Ka'rta jumped into the lead fighter running through her preflight checks. Madelyn might have issues with what they were going to do. But it was necessary, there was a threat coming and they needed to make a statement, and if they just let this past them by, the other Clans wouldn't follow Madelyn. She had to protect the power they had consolidated a fragile coalition that was held together by Madelyn's diplomacy and Ka'rta's power. Mandalore needed to know that there was someone in charge, someone was leading them. The rebuild would go faster if they were united behind a strong leader. It was time to make the galaxy know there was a new power in the galaxy.

    TAG: @Sinrebirth
     
  3. Sinrebirth

    Sinrebirth Mod-Emperor of the EUC, Lit, RPF and SWC star 9 Staff Member Manager

    Registered:
    Nov 15, 2004
    IC: The Narrator
    When all was said and done

    The comms of the galaxy crackled alive.

    At the after party of the Feyna-Isolder wedding -

    In a quiet space on Bakura -

    Throughout the Eternal Fleet -

    In the emptied streets of Nubia -

    Aboard the Corellian and Imperial ships above Centerpoint Station -

    From scattered repeaters in the Unknowns -

    Across the length and breadth of the New Republic -

    Even on Kesh, previously inactive comlinks chimed from the most powerful signal in galactic history -

    —-

    Resistance. Rebellion. Defiance. These are concepts that cannot be allowed to persist.

    His words were as if dragged across the skin; reptilian, loathing, dripping with malice.

    At last the work of generations is complete. The great error is corrected.

    His face was different, but his image was unmistakable. It was a voice that had lied to them, spoke platitudes and puppeted them all.

    The Sith flame will burn. All worlds... surrender or die.

    The camera panned out.

    In his hand was an oversized snake-staff, the kind of weapon that Feyna and Del and Nola and Isolder and Winter would recognise -

    An amphistaff.

    Standing besides him, unmasked, was a man with an eyepatch, holding the Scepter of Sistros, the Chancellor’s Staff, a man that would be recognised by Qwi and Beaumont and Aryan and Ka’rta -

    Arb.

    Standing to the other side, a blonde with a malicious grin, adorned in the crimson armour of Death Watch. A man that would be recognised by Renn and Vhardia and Tor - an armour that would be recognised by Madelyn and even Leia -

    Ike.

    A monstrous Darkness that would resonate with Bernael -

    [​IMG]

    Darth Sidious grinned, restored and resurrected. With them in the shot stood Yuuzhan Vong; names they did not yet know but would learn to fear. Tsavong Lah; Nas Choka; Shedao Shai.

    At his feet, a misshapen Yuuzhan Vong, adorned in rags and with a bulging forehead; Onimi.

    Had your Chancellor taken the villip call of the late-Supreme Overlord, she would have been informed of my return sooner; had the Anzati rummaged more within the guilty clone master he consumed he would have found the truth; but it is my pleasure to elucidate.

    He rasped a grin.

    Did you not think that I would know of the Change? Of the End of Time? Of my pending defeat? That I would not learn of it? Did you believe I would simply accept it?

    He spat his words.

    No.

    It was I who allowed my death at the hands of Anakin Skywalker and Mace Windu. It was I who founded the Sith Eternal to consolidate what was left of my Empire and the GEMINI droids under one rule. It was I who divided the galaxy between the Light and the Dark, who created duality in Zorn’s efforts to usurp me. It was I who leveraged the risk of discovery with the completion of my cloning experiments - to seize the ultimate prize.


    He leered.

    I discovered the Truth of things; that the Yuuzhan Vong were coming, and they brought with them the True Way. His lips curled. The True Sith Way.

    As he spoke, the warriors present slammed their fists into their opposite shoulders.

    The Yuuzhan Vong Gods were the Gods of the Eternal - the Gods of the Sith! I showed them the Truth, that the Gods had been reincarnated! That the Trickster Goddess was here as Feyna Organa; that the Pardoner was here Mace Windu; that the Slayer had returned as Darth Zorn; that the Modeler was returned as Qwi Xux; that the Lovers had returned as Bernael and Abeloth; that Fear had been reborn as Aryan Graul...

    His voice rose as if was a preacher, his hands raised to the sky, as if a religious sacrament, as if he foretold doom.

    Which he did, after a fashion.

    Palpatine had led a wave of religious reform that placed him at the head of the Yuuzhan Vong pantheon - which meant -

    So of course I was the reincarnation of the Creator. The Dark Overlord of the Sith, and thus of the Yuuzhan Vong.

    This show was as much for the Yuuzhan Vong as the galaxy, clearly. He was whipping them into a frenzy that would solidify his control of them.

    In fifteen years, on Empire Day, I shall return the galaxy to its Truth; that it should be ruled by me, that all the droids and sacrileges of the galaxy will be burned away; that all the peoples in the galaxy will convert - that you will all become Yuuzhan Vong, become Sith...

    His smile became a slash upon his face.

    Or die.

    He cut the line.

    It was over.

    Which, of course, meant it had already began.

    Everyone had things to do now.

    Palpatine had told them that their end was coming.

    The Feyna-Isolder wedding was over; the drama over Nubia came to an end; the Mandalorians dug deep; Thrawn grimaced aboard the Chimaera; an exhausted Beaumont would look at Qwi in horror; the Senate would have to reconvene; the Council recalled the Twin Emperors in panic; the plight of Nubia and Naboo and even Taris would be lost in the tumult; the galaxy would have to get ready.

    Their victories and defeats meant nothing now.

    Nothing but a prelude to the finale; to the End of Time itself.

    The Epitaph of Twilight was nearly written.

    TAG: @Jerjerrod-Lennox, @darthbernael, @HanSolo29, @darthhelinith, @JediMasterAnne, @galactic-vagabond422 (all replies to the OOC thread)
     
    Last edited: May 4, 2021
  4. Sinrebirth

    Sinrebirth Mod-Emperor of the EUC, Lit, RPF and SWC star 9 Staff Member Manager

    Registered:
    Nov 15, 2004
    The Last Word

    The Hope of the galaxy was marred by the Dark.

    The dark of the galaxy was marred by the Hope.

    It was a dark, dark time, but nobody could take from the Heroes of the Galaxy that they had defeated Darth Zorn, triumphed over the destruction of the Hope.

    That in the midst of all this chaos, love had won the day, and life continued.

    The Eternal Empire; the Lost Tribe of the Sith; the Yuuzhan Vong - they were symptoms of the galaxies desire for peace, and for safety, and for freedom.

    In those contractions, fear arose, and the Dark found its way into the hearts of people.

    But love, that banished the fear, and fear was driven to the shadows.

    The cycle perpetuated itself because life was a series of beginnings and ending, and so, too, was love, and fear.

    In the galaxy as it was, there wasn’t space for the two to co-exist. The galaxy was at once too Light and too Dark.

    For now.

    Because a single candle could hold back the overwhelming Darkness of the Twilight Reality; the realm created by the Change that Palpatine purposely wrought to avoid his foretold defeat.

    Love is more than a candle.

    Love is at the heart of Balance; forgiveness, acceptance, and Hope.

    As you will see.


    TAG: @BobaMatt - the final TAG of the game
     
  5. BobaMatt

    BobaMatt TFN EU Staff star 7 VIP

    Registered:
    Aug 19, 2002
    Combined with @Sinrebirth. It's been a pleasure!

    IC: Anakin Skywalker and Mace Windu

    Exegol, the arena.

    The galaxy left.

    It took a while, but hundreds of capitals ships plunged into the surface of Exegol, flaming, burning.

    The Sith fleet was destroyed, and the Galactic Alliance fleet, it's job done, with other concerns, left to fight the next battle.

    The New Republic didn't have time to send down anyone to check that the Sith Eternal were done; they just assumed that nobody could survive in that hellscape, that any survivor had been killed by crashing debris, by the planet becoming a true graveyard for the One Sith, for the Sith Eternal, for Darth Zorn.

    They were right.

    Mostly.

    Anakin breathed in, and out, pained, dying, his life leaking away, his hands clawed in the dirt.

    He was fading, and he would soon be gone.

    With his wife.

    With his daughter.

    With his son, who he had killed.

    In this moment, he did not reach out to his friends, to his grandson, no, he just wanted to know if his brother-in-arms had survived.

    "... Mace?" He croaked.

    "Save your strength for now," Mace said, and added the Force to his insistence when he saw Anakin struggle, "You'll need it."

    There was so much jubilation, and now so much fear. As if the Sith Lord sought revenge, a wave of destruction crashed across the planet, imperiling the victors. Surely, the Jedi would not make it. No, Windu corrected himself. I will not make it.

    Wearily, he lowered himself to his knees beside Anakin, and placed his hands on the Jedi's wounds. He would finish what he started. Anakin stirred, and began to stammer a protest, but Mace silenced him with a click of the tongue like he might a youngling. "I doubted once, Skywalker - you, myself, the prophecy - but now I am full of a terrible certainty: you are the Chosen One. You are meant to bring balance to the Force. As a Jedi, you were my brother, but now...we've finished what we started all that time ago. You have lost everything, but there is so much in your future. I wish you could see it now, as I see it, stretching forward into infinity." He could feel himself weakening as he emptied his life into his old friend, but the other Jedi had not left. They lifted him. Master Yoda's spirit extended a clawed hand, an impish grin on his face. Mace had nearly expired when Anakin's body was wracked by a gasp, an enormous intake of air that filled him totally. He was alive. But Windu would die.

    With the last of himself, Windu settled into a concentration, using a technique he learned from the Aiing-Tii to bridge two spaces across an impossible distance. This time Mace did not step across the gap himself, but instead sent Skywalker ahead. Mortis had use for him. And now Skywalker, too, was gone.

    Windu shone in the Force, so much of him already one with the universe. With the dregs of himself he clung to dignity, his last attachment. He lowered himself to the ground and assumed a pose of meditation. He let himself calm. He let go of his fear. He let go of his burdens. He let go of the crude matter of his very existence. He was Mace Windu. And then, suddenly, he was not. The cloth that made up his robes fluttered away like butterflies as the planet gave way.

    Anakin Skywalker awoke with tears in his eyes. He knew that Mace had given his life to save him, to let him live. As he acclimated his vision to where he was, he realised that the Korunnai had also given him the chance to fulfil his true destiny.

    The prophecy of the Chosen One.

    As he looked around and saw the tower of the Father - the God of Balance, he knew.

    He now knew what he must do.

    Fifty years ago the Father had begged Anakin to replace him, to ensure his children - the Son and Daughter - did not devastate the galaxy. Anakin refused - and the three of them died, leaving the Force without its Celestial caretakers.

    Without them, Darth Sidious had been able to push the Force to the darkness, and, eventually, discover that he could Change his own destiny. The future - or futures - where he lost, and was defeated, withdrawing to the Sith world of Exegol rather than his throneworld of Byss. He even prepared for the coming of Chaos, poisoning Abeloth, and reached out to subvert the coming of the Yuuzhan Vong.

    All because of what had happened at Mortis.

    Anakin knew he could bring what he should have all those years ago.

    Balance.

    He took the Throne, and dedicated himself to becoming what he should have all along.

    The True Chosen One.

    As he did, he grew solemn - he grew sure, and he whispered to his Master, Mace.

    “May the Force be with you.”

    Those words, Mace would hear them, but also the phrase from Depa’s lips, in the tones of Qui-Gon, from a smile by Obi-Wan, in the pattern of Yoda.

    They were waiting for him.

    TAG: ALL
     
    Last edited: May 4, 2021
  6. Sinrebirth

    Sinrebirth Mod-Emperor of the EUC, Lit, RPF and SWC star 9 Staff Member Manager

    Registered:
    Nov 15, 2004