nitemare shape

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 3- Shattered Dimensions

Icon swooped down on one of the troop carriers, clutching it with one hand at what he assumed was the landing bay door and then took off skyward with it in tow. When he reached several thousand feet, well below the typical cruising altitude of a commercial airliner, he spun himself around several times, building up momentum and then let go of his grip, sending the troop carrier flying away from the city, where it landed harmlessly in the harbor.

Immediately, Icon turned his attention to a group of citizens that were attempting to fight off several alien aggressors. While their attempts to keep the aliens at bay had been valiant, they had also been much for naught. The aliens had little difficulty in cutting down the over-matched humans with their advanced weaponry.

“I don't think so.” Icon said aloud as he rocketed toward the alien attackers. He touched down on the ground in front of the group of people, putting himself between them and the aliens. The one of the aliens fired some sort of laser weapon at him. The bolt struck him firmly in the chest, and he had no doubt that if it had hit one of the civilians, it would have incinerated them instantly. He looked down at his chest, and saw the smoke coming from the spot where the energy blast had struck him, then to the alien who had fired the shot. Icon noted that the weapon was not a gun, which one may have imagined after watching countless science fiction films dating back to the pulp movies of the Forties and Fifties. Instead, the energy blast had come from a staff that the alien was wielding. A staff that while different, held a striking resemblance to something that he had seen before.

“That stings.” Icon said with a grin as his gaze fell upon the alien that had attacked him, his eyes glowing a pale blue. Then the hero fired an optic blast that struck the staff wielding alien in the chest, knocking him off balance. Icon then charged the alien, snatching the staff from its hands and snapping it in half all in a single motion. “A cheap knock-off.” Icon said as he examined the broken staff that he held in his hands, discarding it like garbage, and then shoving the alien lightly in the chest, which still sent the murderous creature slamming hard into the side of a building on the other side of the street.

Then, Icon went to work on the remaining three aliens. In a silver and cobalt blur, he flew between them, first disarming them and then rounding them up, binding them together with a single piece of re- bar from a nearby construction site, then depositing them with the unconscious alien that he had sent into the side of the building.

“Now might be a good time to run.-” Icon said to the band of citizens he had just kept from being slaughtered. [b] “-Find someplace safe and stay there.” He finished before taking to the skies again.

It wasn't long before he saw his next move. Several of the invaders had attacked more civilians, or so he thought at first. However, there was something different about these “victims.' They or more specifically “he” was having much more success fighting back. The man, who appeared to be tall and lanky and dressed in what looked to be a custom designer outfit had had been handling the aliens with apparent ease.

"Mmmhmm! Candy is the cure! Yo! Icon! Pretty neat of you to save the city and all that! But this whole alien thing above us really is spoiling my sweet dreams so be a good boy and get that technological horror away! I make sure to prepare a gift bag with your name on it!" The strange red and white clad man said to him gleefully almost in a sing-song like voice as he went about taking down any near by aliens. Icon didn't know who this man was, or if he was friend or foe, but something told him that it really didn't matter right now. Now, all that mattered was the survival of the human race, so he was willing to take help anywhere he could get it.

“If you can fight, which it looks like you can-" Icon said as he regarded the peculiar man. “-Now is the time.” Icon said as he again took to the skies, leaving the strange man standing in the street.

***

High above Earth, The Autocrat watched the events unfolding below him from the view port of his private chambers aboard the mothership of the Arlaaekan fleet. Though he had seen similar scenes play out time after time across countless worlds, he never grew tired of it. The death, the destruction, and ultimately, the thrill of victory. However, this time, something was different. These humans were unlike the others that had been conquered by the Arlaaekan machine. They had a certain something, a fighting spirit quite unlike anything that he had ever seen before. While it was true that many of the worlds that he had conquered had fought back, or at least attempted to, they hadn't had the same ferocity that these humans had. Though their bodies were frail and weak, and their weapons of war were primitive at best, they held a resolve within them that he almost admired.

Almost.

The truth was, it mattered little how hard the Earthlings fought. Their fate had been sealed the moment that they had accepted the Great Concord. The day that the staff-wielder had accepted the beacon, the Earth had also unknowingly accepted its fate. There was little use in fighting back, though many had tried, they all eventually fell under the heel of the forces of Arlaaek.

It was inevitable: another world would die so that Arlaaek and her children would live.

The Autocrat watched the destruction below intently even as the doors to his private chambers slid open behind him. Towering despot did not have to turn to face the intruder, as he know that only one would enter his private chambers unannounced.

“What is it, Admiral?” The Autocrat said to his visitor.

“The siege goes well, my lord. The initial strike took them by surprise and left much of their planetary defenses in shambles.-” Keelan said as he pulled a small device from the breast pocket of his jet black admiral's uniform. The device was metallic gray and about the size of an 8x10 note card. When he activated the device, 3-D map of the Earth appeared in just above the palm of his hand. “-though there are pockets of resistance, as we expected, the heaviest fighting is here.” He said, pointing to Lost Haven.

“As expected, Admiral.” The Autocrat said as he looked away from the map and back out of the viewport. “Is this not the location of the Beacon?” The Autocrat asked, already knowing the answer.

“It is.” Keelan confirmed.

“Is it also not the area most populated with the so-called 'meta humans?” The Autocrat asked, again not really expecting an answer. The Autocrat had, along with the Admiral as well as his other advisors, learned everything they could have about their current target. The Earthlings had a strange habit of announcing themselves to the rest of the universe, almost as if they had an innate need to know that they were not alone in the universe. They sent messages into the stars, telling whoever may happen across them, everything that they needed to know about the pathetic backwater world. It told of their dreams and ambitions. However, it also told of their weaknesses, and their strengths. It told of their heroes, the ones who wield great power in the protection of the planet.

The meta humans.

The Autocrat knew that to take this planet and her resources, they would first have to eliminate the heroes that protected it. He had been surprised to learn that one of his asteroids had failed to reach its target, yet was undisturbed by that particular turn of events. He had ordered an assault on the city, and expected it and those protecting it to fall at any time.

“It appears that we may have...underestimated the resolve of the meta humans that occupy that city. They have thus far beaten back our forces.” Keelan said reluctantly.

“Hrmph” The Autocrat grunted in annoyance.

“It seems that thus far, they have been more than a match for our forces.” Keelan told him.

“Very well.” The Autocrat said as he clenched his fists at his side. “Bring me the Outsider. Perhaps it is time to finally unleash him upon his home.”

Greetings! Candy Cane Service!

Thank you for the Candy Cane to whoever it was that sent me one.

Star Wars: Legacies (Always Open)

Luke Skywalker. The man's name resonated through Joren's entire being. He had heard tales of the great Jedi Knight, Luke Skywalker, the hero of the Rebellion. He had been the young pilot who had destroyed the first Death Star, the hero who had slain both Darth Vader and the Emperor himself. Truth be told, Joren hadn't really believed the stories. He suspected that this Luke Skywalker had been a fraud, a creation of the Rebellion intended to conjure images of the Jedi of old as a way of bringing legitimacy to its fight against the Empire.

However, now, standing in this man's presence...he knew that it was not true. This man, this...Luke Skywalker was radiating with the Force. Joren had never been in the presence of someone who had ever been as strong in the Force as this man, not even his father's presence could compare to the man who stood before him. No, something told them that all the stories about this man were indeed true.

“The Force is with you.” Luke finally said, breaking the silence at the table. The Jedi master had been surprised to find someone who appeared to be so strong in the Force.

“It is.” Joren admitted after a slight hesitation. He had spent his entire life hiding his true nature from everyone around him, including his best friends, yet for some reason he knew that he could be honest with Skywalker, which was oddly freeing. “I guess you can say it runs in my family.”

“I know what you mean.” Luke says as he averted his eyes to the floor for a split second, before a smile crossed his face. Luke stayed silent for a moment before he returned his gaze to the younger man and his Mandalorian companion.

“So tell me about yourself.” Luke said at last.

“What do you want to know?” Joren asked.

“Well, your name's a good start. Where you came from.”

“There's really not much to tell. My name is Joren Kel, I was born on Nar Shaddaa. After I lost my parents, I had to grow up fast.” Joren began.

It was a story Luke had heard before. But he could tell that the younger man was holding back. And Luke understood. He had only just met him, and the Jedi master hadn't yet earned the younger man's trust. And that was alright, Luke had hoped that there would be plenty of time for that.

“What is it that you do?” Luke asked, trying to redirect the conversation.

“A little of this, a little of that.-” Joren said. “Nothing much n particular.”

“He's a space bum.-” Dono cut into the conversation.”He's a decent hustler. And he's damn good in a fight. He's actually saved my neck more times than I'd like to admit.”

Joren was somewhat surprised by Dono's sudden praise. The Mandalorian had barely said two words to him since that night on Tatooine. He found himself wondering exactly what his friend was up to.

“Yeah, I guess when I'm not out there 'hustling and being an all around scoundrel,' I'm mostly just trying to avoid trouble.-” Joren said to the Jedi. “-So, what's your story?”

Luke looked around the crowded cantina, and though he wanted to be honest with the younger man, he wasn't sure exactly how much he could say without being eavesdropped on by someone in the bar.

“I want to talk to you about that, but not here. Why don't you come with me, I think I might have a job offer for you.” Luke said much to Joren's surprise. “Come with me.” Luke said as he motioned for them to follow him to the exit.

“Why us?” Joren said as they stepped through the doors of the cantina leading into the street. Luke just turned his head to face the younger man and smiled.

“If there's one thing I've learned over the years, it's that scoundrels usually aren't that bad.”

“So, what is this job offer?” Dono asked as they started walking down the street. Luke looked around, surveying the area to make sure that there wasn't anyone listening in. When he was satisfied that no one was, in fact, paying any attention to them, he began to speak.

“Listen, what I'm about to tell you is a...sensitive issue. However, something tells me I can trust you to keep this to yourselves for now.” Luke told them. When the men nodded in agreement, he continued. “Shortly after our victory at Endor, I had set out to rebuild the Jedi Order. I have a small number of students, however, I am looking to identify more potential students. However, with the continuing war against the remnants of the Empire, the New Republic is limited in what they can provide for support of this mission.”

“They've told you that you're on your own.” Dono said with a hint of understanding in his voice. Luke just nodded.

“I need a ship. Transportation to different worlds as I look for students. Preferably a ship that can hold its own when things get rough, yet provide enough room for training. This would be a long term mission. If you're willing to do this, the New Republic will pay you handsomely. Ten Thousand credits up front, plus expenses to get you started. The final price is negotiable, of course.” Luke paused for a moment, almost as if internally debating his next words. “And I'd be willing to train you as well.”

Joren just stands in silence for a moment after listening to Luke's proposal unsure of what to say. This was the very thing that his father had been preparing him for since he was a very young child. Since before he could walk, Joren's father had instilled in him the values of a Jedi. All the “games” that Van Kel had played with his son, which unknown to the small boy had been Jedi training exercises, to more formal training as he got older. Joren knew that this is exactly what his father would have wanted for him. Yet, Joren had seen what his father's devotion to the Jedi Order had done to him. It had left him a broken man, desperate to reignite a flame that had been extinguished in the universe or years.

After his father's death, Joren had decided to live his own life. He had no desire to follow in his father's footsteps. He didn't want his father's obsession to become his own. However, that was before he found out that there were more out there like him. That he wouldn't be doing this alone. The prospect of being with others who understood the things that he felt, the things that he experienced was very tempting.

As was the pay for the job. Ten thousand credits up front was a lot of money, and would go a long way in helping he and his friends establish their new lives.

“He's in.” Dono said suddenly, before Joren could answer for himself. Joren turned to his friend, his eyes wide in astonishment. “Vod'ika, we've known each other for a long time. You were born for this.”

Joren split his gave between his friend and the Jedi, and then nodded in agreement.

“I'm in.” Joren said finally.

“We're in.” Dono corrected as Joren turned to look at his friend and smiled in relief.

“I think we have a ship that's perfect for this job. And I already have a crew that I trust.” Joren said to Luke.

The older Jedi smiled at the pair and clapped Joren on the shoulder.

“That's good, Joren. You're about to take your first steps into a larger world.” Luke said, recalling the very words that Ben had once said to him when he had began his own journey, in what had seemed like a lifetime ago.

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 3- Shattered Dimensions

The wind whipped against his suit as he raced through the streets of Lost Haven on his motorcycle. The bike was fast, having topped out at over two hundred miles per hour between Crown Ridge and Lost Haven, however, he just couldn't move fast enough as the images of the destruction that had been wrought across the globe raced through his mind. These invaders knew what they were doing, they had wiped out or crippled numerous cities which were strategic military strongholds, and now they targeted Lost Haven, which was home to a very large metahuman population.

If Lost Haven were to fall, the rest of the world would soon follow.

As Lyger entered Lost Haven, he realized that things were worse than he had feared. The burnt out vehicles that lined the roads, flaming ruins of what had once been thriving businesses and bustling apartment buildings. The panicked residents running through the streets trying to find shelter from the marauding invaders. From the reports that Whisper had been feeding to his comm in his mask, Icon and the others seemed to be making a stand in Sherman Square, which meant that he needed to get there, and fast.

Some things never change. Lyger thought to himself as memories of the various assaults on the city over the years always seemed to culminate with an all out attack on Sherman Square. D-Day, the Hounds of Humanity, and now, invaders from another world.

He rounded a corner which would bring him to the final straightaway to Sherman Square, Lyger saw one of the many alien drop ships, which had touched down throughout the city. A mixture of fear and relief filled his being as he saw a small group of civilians cornered by a single alien soldier, who was pointing some sort of weapon at them.

However, the thing that he found most startling was the vaguely familiar appearance of the alien. The dark blue/black hair, the teal skin. He had seen a being that appeared to be from the same species, and he had learned to trust her during the war with the Hounds of Humanity. However, now he had to wonder...had Flux been playing them all along?

He pushed the thought out of his mind as he leapt from the bike and met the alien soldier with a boot in the chest, knocking the armed alien back. Surprised by the sudden attack, the alien hesitated, which allowed Lyger to follow up with a hard right hand to the jaw, followed by a stiff jab, and a bone crunching kick to the knee, which caused the alien soldier to cry out in pain as he fell to the ground.

“Get out of here, find cover and don't come out until this is over!” Lyger snarled at the huddled people who had been the target of the murderous alien. However, they just stood there, either too horrified to move, or in such a state of shock that his words hadn't registered. “Go!” he exclaimed, his modulated voice amplified over the sudden silence. It was enough to snap the civilians out of their stupor and send them scurrying away, just as several other alien warriors arrived on the scene, seemingly responding to their fallen comrade's pained cries.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

He's done it again. Richard Midas thought as he watched Icon redirect a large space rock away from the city from the large bay window in his office which overlooked Lost Haven. The scene reminded him of the first time he, or anyone for that matter, had seen Icon. The day that he had prevented the Gold Dawn from crashing down in the middle of the city, doing untold damage and killing countless people. That singular event had ushered in the modern age of heroes, and that one act had captured the imaginations of people all around the world.

This was different.

An advanced alien race had declared war on the people of Earth, and in multiple, coordinated attacks the death toll had been unimaginable. Even now, despite Lost Haven's “savior,” his city burned.

As Midas watched the attack unfold before him, he found himself wondering if this was what it was like for the ancient denizens of Rome, who could only watch as the barbarians stormed the gates, and the Visigoths finally sacked what had once been the hub of civilization.

Fortunately Lost Haven had something that the Romans didn't...Heroes.

Heroes with an annoying habit of coming out on top even when the odds seemed insurmountable. Whether it be fanatics who had somehow taken control of orbital weapons, lunatics trying to turn every man, woman, and child in the world into mutated freaks, or beating back the hordes of Hell itself. Somehow, the heroes manage to always come together and save the day.

And for what may be the first time, Midas prayed that they are able to keep their improbable win streak alive, as the very fate of the world depended on it. However, Midas was not a man who left things to chance. He turned away from the window and looked to the “extra security” that his business partners in the Eye of Osiris had sent over.

“Go down to the sub levels and move the twins to the underground labs. Stay with them there, if anyone other than myself or Ms Sparks tries to get it, kill them.” Midas instructed them before turning to Alison Sparks, who had been watching the events unfolding outside of Midas Tower with horror.

“Ms Sparks, I'm not going to rely on people I can't control to keep us safe. I want you to go to Ms Desdemona and bring her here. She's sat on the sidelines long enough, it's time that she earns her keep.”

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 3- Shattered Dimensions

Posts coming. I've started on one and I have some thoughts for another

Star Wars: Legacies (Always Open)

Posts coming. I've had some unexpected challenges this week, but I'm still planning to work on some stuff throughout the week and get something up soon

Star Wars: Legacies (Always Open)

The crew of the Twilight Dreams had only been on the New Republic capital of Chandrila for several hours, but those hours had been productive. In that time, they had taken in in some of the sights in Hanna City. They had traveled through the city circle and visited the art display that had been installed shortly after the battle of Endor, which was made up of Imperial stormtrooper helmets which had been painted in vibrant colors, star bursts and Rebel Alliance sigils.

They walked along the bustling streets which led into the Senate Plaza taking in the sights as the plotted their next move. It was while they were in the Plaza that they found their first lead on an apartment, which was located on the city's famed Embassy Row. Though Joren and the others had been skeptical that they could afford an apartment at that address, Kelsa assured them that they could, at least for a couple of months, however, they would have to find work somewhere, and fast.

The quartet soon decided to split up in order to get more accomplished. Nyna and Kelsa went to Embassy Row to follow up on the apartment, while Joren and Dono went off to look to see if they could find work of some kind, which eventually led them to the Hannatown Cantina, which was located just a few streets over from the Old Hannatown Market.

When they entered the cantina they were genuinely impressed by the establishment, which was much more like a nightclub than a cantina, with patrons enjoying their drinks and dancing under the bright lights that flashed throughout the building like a laser show. Indeed, the cantina was a far cry from the dingy dives that the pair had grown accustomed to on the Smuggler's Moon, and Dono was even more impressed when he found that they served Ne'tra gal, or black ale, which was a favorite drink among the Mandalorians.

They had taken a seat at the back of the cantina and almost out of habit, Joren began scanning the establishment for potential threats. Fortunately, for what seemed like the first time in a lifetime, there was no sign of trouble. Nobody was hunting them, there were no Kath Hounds after them. There were no Imperials hunting them, and nobody was trying to kill them, at least not yet.

***

Bekk Ranik made his way through the busy streets of Hanna City with his ID9 Seeker droid hovering just over his left shoulder. At one time, as a member of the Inquisitorius, Ranik had hunted down fugitive Jedi and other Force Sensitives, and either recruited them into the ranks of the Inquisitors, or eliminated them. However, times had changed. Having left the service of the Empire as soon as the Empire had decided that the service of the Inquisitors was no longer required, Ranik had lived in relative anonymity as a smuggler and a pirate.

However, that is all in the past. Bekk Ranik had found a new purpose. After a slight “misunderstanding” with the man who was trying to rebuild the Jedi Order in the wake of the Emperor and Vader's deaths, Ranik had found himself working side by side with the young Jedi, first as a student, then as a friend and fellow Jedi Master.

Now, Ranik had is own mission for Skywalker's Jedi Order, and it was one that he was all too familiar with. Although the purpose of the mission had changed, the mission itself was very much the same-

After all these years, Bekk Ranik was still hunting Jedi.

Suddenly, Ranik's droid began rattling off a series of excited chirps and whistles as its glowing red photoreceptor rotated around, looking in every direction.

“Easy Scrapper, easy. I feel it too.” Bekk told his droid, who rattled off another series of chirps and beeps.

“Oh, I don't know.-” Ranik said with a grin as he pulled his hood up over his long gray hair and looked his droid directly in the photoreceptor. “-But I think it's time we went for a drink.”

As Bekk approached the Hannatown Cantina, he saw many of the same patrons going in and out that he had seen each day in the weeks that he had been in Hanna City. However, as the doors slid open and he and Scrapper made their way inside, he noticed some new faces as well. A pair of men specifically drew his attention, a young man who looked to be in his early to mid twenties, and his Mandalorian companion. As he studied the pair from across the cantina, there was something about the young man, something that seemed familiar, although he had never laid eyes on the man before this moment. He made eye contact with the bartender, who having served Bekk a number of times in the preceeding weeks, already knew his drink of choice.

It was a feeling. The same feeling that Bekk Ranik had felt the first time he had crossed paths with Luke Skywalker.

This young man radiated the Force. Though it was not as overwhelmingly powerful as the Jedi Master's presence, it was still surprisingly strong.

The bartender had finished filling his mug with Corellian Ale and handed it to Bekk, who accepted the mug and took a drink from the beverage as he decided on what would be the best course of action to take. However, Scrapper let off a long series of beeps and whistles before taking off in a direct line toward the young man and his Mandalorian friend.

“Blast it Scrapper!” Bekk cursed aloud as he left the stool at the bar and went after the droid. Bekk watched as the droid hovered over the floor as it made its way to the pair's table, then lowered itself to the height of the table, before slamming into it, jarring the table and knocking over their drinks.

Ranik picked up his pace and made his way to the table. He first noticed the Mandalorian, who looked more than displeased as he wiped the liquor from his armor.

“I'm sorry about that. Hes been a little...off today. Please, let me get you another round.” Bekk said to the men as he smacked Scrapper on the back of the head, who responded with another long string of beeps, which almost sounded as if the droid was cursing.
“Thanks. And don't worry about it, droids can be a bit...quirky at times.” Joren said as Dono continued cleaning the Black Ale from his armor.

“Yeah, they say the best way to deal with that is a memory wipe.” Dono said evenly without looking up. Knowing that Dono was at least half kidding, Joren chuckled at the comment. However, the droid beeped at him, which gave Joren the distinct impression that it wasn't thrilled with the suggestion.

“I'm Bekk Ranik, and this-” He said, motioning to the droid, “-is Scrapper.”

“Joren Kel, and my friend here is Dono Kil'ar.” Joren said as he motioned for the man to join them at the table.

Bekk was surprised by the cordial nature of the pair. Typically, such an incident could lead to hard feelings and more times than not, a bar fight which would more than likely clear the cantina and draw the attention of the local authorities.

Moments later, the serving droid made its way to the table and began to finish cleaning up the mess, before standing back upright to await another order.

“Corellian Ale and a Black Ale.” Bekk said to the droid as it hurried off to get their order.

Several minutes after the serving droid returned to the table with Joren and Dono's new drinks, Bekk finished his Ale and not wanting to wait for the serving droid to return, went back to the bar to order another drink. As Bekk made his way back to the bar, he was still surprised to find this kid who was so strong in the Force, and he knew those he answered to would be very interesting with meeting the young man. As he reached the bar, he reached into one of the compartments on his belt and pulled out a comlink.

“It's Ranik. I think I found one you'll want to meet.” He said, then cut the communication before there could be a reply. He then took his drink and returned to the table where he engaged the two men in conversation. He had asked them about where they came from ad where they were going, and he could tell that while they weren't lying to him, there were things that they were not being completely honest, which he respected in a way.

Eventually, the cantina doors slid open and another figure entered the establishment. Joren immediately took notice of this person, though at first he didn't see the man, but much to his surprise, he felt him. In fact, it took a few moments for him to hone in on the person in the crowded cantina. The person was a relatively unassuming individual in a dark hooded cloak, who, much to Joren's surprise was making his way toward them. The man came to a stop at their table and nodded to the older man.

“Bekk.” He said as he lowered the hood on his cloak, revealing himself to be a young blond man who looked to be just a few years older than Joren himself.

“Hello, my name is Luke Skywalker. I think we have much to discuss.” The man said as he pulled up a chair and joined them at the table.
​

Star Wars: Legacies (Always Open)

trying to finish this post tonight

Star Wars: Legacies (Always Open)

Posts coming soon

Star Wars: Legacies (Always Open)

Grand Admiral Jadal Thrax
Lord Imperium Koren Ozzel

Within the bowels of Daplona, in the lower levels of Jadal Thrax’ personal fortress, dug deep into the ground, was a communications room. Customized and built with state of the art equipment. The Grand Admiral often used it to communicate with his underlings, attend briefings when he couldn’t make it in person and transmit the occasional speech. It had never, however, been used to communicate with the Imperial Center or the Core in general. By the time construction had finished, Jadal Thrax had grown too apart from the Coruscant regime to bother with. And though C-CNO never officially declared its opposition to the Grand Imperium, it was an unspoken fact that the COMPNOR-state had long cut its ties with its once overlords at Coruscant.

That is, until now. Garbled, hushed messages from the few remaining loyalists within the capital had brought news that the Grand Admiral simply couldn’t ignore. And with the Rebels crawling ever closer to the heart of the Galaxy, Jadal Thrax finally found himself forced swallow his considerable distaste and distrust towards Ozzel’s regime and tear down the unofficial walls both had erected between themselves.

And so Grand Admiral Jadal Thrax stood atop a special platform, in pristine grey-black COMPNOR uniform as aides and technicians worked in the pits around him to patch him through to his target.

Several days had passed since Admiral Kava and her considerable fleet had appeared in orbit above Coruscant, the sudden intrusion had left a bad taste in Koren Ozzel’s mouth. Kava and her fleet had caught the Imperium completely off guard, which Ozzel himself believed had been intentional. Kava had never been one for subtlety, and she had indeed made her point. Coruscant either was, or was perceived to be vulnerable. Be it from threats from the New Republic, or the fledgeling New Confederacy, or even from rogue elements from within the shattered remnants of the Empire itself. There were numerous factions that wanted what the Imperium had: A foothold in the galactic capital.

The fact was, in the days since Kava’s appearance on Coruscant, there had been talk about the Imperium’s ability to defend the Imperial capital from outside threats. Of course, the talk was just that, talk. Quieted whispers in the dark intended to make the Imperium, and by extension, Ozzel himself appear weak. Despite the fact that such talk was unfounded, and completely untrue, it was something that had to be dealt with.

Ozzel had personally ordered an increased Imperial presence on the streets. He had increased both the volume and frequency of stormtrooper patrols.There had also been an increase in the number of checkpoints throughout the city, and anyone who was so much as suspected of spreading the false narrative that the Imperium was somehow weak was to be placed under immediate arrest and held for questioning.

Ozzel had also ordered that the monitoring of Coruscant’s orbit be expanded to not only Coruscant’s immediate vicinity, but deep into the star system as well. Though such an endeavor was taxing on the Imperium’s resources, it was something that had to be done in order to ensure the safety of the Imperium.

Ozzel sat behind his desk in his office, which had served as the Emperor’s Throne Room before his death, with a glass of vintage wine at hand as he looked over the information that had been uploaded to his datapad regarding his efforts to lock down the planet.

Suddenly, the holoprojector in the office snapped to life, and standing before him was the image of a man that he had not seen in quite some time. The man’s crisp uniform looked sharp even in the dull blue light of the hologram. The man himself had changed quite a bit since he had last seen him, the cybernetic enhancements were a startling sight, and when coupled with the distinct unifor of the Committee for the Continuation of the New Order, was an indicator of the man’s fanaticism.

“Hail Palpatine!” The salute was loud, stiff and mechanical. “Grand Moff Ozzel.” Thrax finished his greeting, face morphing into a slight frown. “I will not insult your intelligence, nor do I have the time to play games with you. I have heard of the ongoing Rebel advance on the Core and the arrival, or maybe return, of a certain strike group, and I come to you with an offer.”

Ozzel got out of his chair and stiffly returned the Grand Admiral’s salute and then stepped closer to the holoprojector. He studied the man’s image as he approached, coming to a stop just before it.

“Greetings to you, Grand Admiral Thrax. It has been a long time my friend. Too long.-” Ozzel said as he returned his arm to his side. Ozzel was somewhat skeptical that the other man’s offer was not a ploy to get a foothold into the Imperium. The fact was that ever since the fall of Palpatine and the rise of the Imperium, relations between the two men had been tepid at best. However, Ozzel was not a fool, and he knew that if word of Kava’s arrival had reached
even the Grand Admiral, that he could not afford to turn away potential alliances. l“-What is it exactly that you are offering?”

“You do your duty, Grand Moff.” Thrax stressed the title. “And I shall do mine. Stop cowering behind the walls of the Palace and waiting for the Rebels to come and kill you in your bedchambers. You have squandered the resources of the Center with your apathetic and hesitant policies.” The Grand Admiral scoffed. “Now fate has delivered unto you a second chance. As we speak, I am about to bring a fiery reconing to all those who defy the Empire in the Northern Rim. But all of it will be for naught if you continue to let the Rebels advance upon the heart of the Empire. Strike back and for once prove you are the man worthy of the duty our beloved Emperor bestowed upon you. Use the might you command to safeguard the New Order.” Thrax paused for a beat. “Do that and I shall extend my hand to you as a brother in arms once I reach the Core. And make no mistake, Lord Ozzel, I will soon arrive. Either to embrace you as an ally or to avenge your death.”

Ozzel stood in a silent fury for a moment as the Grand Admiral’s words registered. It had been a long time since anyone had dared to speak to him in such a manner, and Ozzel wanted nothing more than to see him suffer for his slight. However, Ozzel could not argue with the man’s reasoning. Perhaps he had been foolish to believe that he could win the war through diplomacy. It had become clear that the New Republic was not interested in anything less than the total destruction of the Imperium and everything that it stood for. And he would certainly not allow that to happen. Perhaps it was time for him, and by extension the entire Imperium itself, to mobilize the forces of the Grand Imperium and stamp out the flame of the rebellion once and for all.

“That’s Lord Imperium, Grand Admiral. I will do what must be done. Just be sure that you and your forces are ready.”

“They are more than ready, Grand Moff. They are already on the way.” Thrax replied, smugness seeping into his tone.