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 Wrath of the Empir
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| Author | Topic: Wrath of the Empir |
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Spartacus Citizen Posts: 189
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posted June 03, 2000 10:44 PM
  
[COMMENTS: I may be adding actual sound files of Vast Empire members saying their lines soon. If you are using Internet Explorer, press the F11 key before scrolling down.]    It has been over a year and a half since the tragic events which transpired at the Battle of Endor, in which our beloved Emperor Palpatine was slain at the hands of the treacherous Darth Vader, have taken place. While rumors still persist of rogue Imperial fleets regrouping in the outer rim under the command of a mysterious Grand Admiral Thrawn, the scattered Imperial remnants from the unknown regions have been gladly united under the valiant banner of the New Imperium who have elected Diktat Sauron, the successor of Diktat Dogger, as their new leader. The Vast Empire, one of the most deadly fleets in the New Imperium, have conquered the systems of Lorn, Rilke, Rodin, Erewhon, and Gracchus due to the astounding strategic skills of Field Marshal Caramon Majere, the revered leader of the Vast Empire. The civil war between the Empire and the New Republic for the galaxy, however, is far from over. Field Marshal Majere realizes the key to success is to establish a Dark Jedi Order to combat the ever encrouching forces of the greedy New Republic led by the tiring President Mon Mothma. The Dark Jedi Order created by Caramon Majere is located on the remote world of Lorn IV, the seat of the Vast Empire. Under the watchful eye of Grand Master Kadann and Deputy Grand Master Atrus, a new generation of beings skilled in the ways of the Dark Jedi are trained as merciless warriors whose efforts in the upcoming battles may turn the tide of the war against the rebel insurgents. Luke Skywalker, instructed by one of the last Jedi Knights of the Old Republic, has dispatched several pupils, proficient in the manipulation of the Force, to the planet of Lorn IV to spy upon the Vast Empire. It is on the latter world that our story begins . . . [This message has been edited by Spartacus (edited 04 June 2000).] IP: 24.237.58.18 |
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Spartacus Citizen Posts: 189
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posted June 03, 2000 11:27 PM
Caramon Majere, regally clad in his crimson red uniform, surveyed the sprawling heavens of Lorn IV from the expansive viewport of his lavish office in the Government Complex which lay in the center of Rytor City. The weight of numerous bloody conflicts against the undaunted forces of the New Republic rested heavily upon the shoulders of the Field Marshal as he attempted to predict the future. A grim future. A future devoid of all hope or rest for a dying Coruscantian Empire which had once seemingly ruled the known galaxy and now had crumbled to the point of barely controlling a few thousand worlds. The Empire is not dead yet, Majere reminded himself as he tore his gaze from the panorama of flickering stars. With the rebirth of the Dark Jedi in recent years there seemed to be a lingering hope which his soul could endeavor to cling to. The new breed of Imperial warriors would devastate their renowned adversaries in virtually any confrontation against the Rebel Alliance. Could the Dark Jedi be trusted? The ostensibly unreciprocated question lurked in the back of Majere's mind. The significant apprehension of the troubled Field Marshal concerning the new division had been quite evident to Grand Master Kadann who had repeatedly assured Majere that the loyalty of the dark warriors was unquestionable. Still, countless tales of Dark Jedis destroying each other, principally in times of need, loomed throughout the sands of time. Nearly any planetary historian could recite at least one of those tales being the problem was so conspicuously palpable. Selfishness. The primary motivation of all Dark Jedis in the methods of the Force seemed to always be their dire undoing. The abundant legends of Satal Keto, Aleema Keto, Exar Kun, and Ulic Qel-Droma incessantly quarreling perfectly displayed the verity that Dark Jedis could never exist in an ideal camaraderie. Then again, perhaps the Vast Empire Dark Jedi Order would defy history for the first time. Perhaps just this once, history would fail to repeat itself. Perhaps ultimately the depraved forces of iniquity would be victorious against the forces of the ethical light. The wandering gaze of the Field Marshal was once again drawn to the stars, "Perhaps." [This message has been edited by Spartacus (edited 03 June 2000).] IP: 24.237.58.18 |
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Spartacus Citizen Posts: 189
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posted June 04, 2000 05:46 AM
Ample globules of sweltering prespiration gradually trickled down the alvoid forehead of a deeply resting Rarc Spartacus, a retired Dark Jedi master, as his perturbed countenance altered recurringly in grotesque visages consumed with fervent emotions. It was said that extrasensory visions which befall from the clairvoyant temples of the obscure mind fundamentally comprise more of a symbiotic correlation to the omnipotent midichlorians themselves than any other animated part of the human body. Many eminent scientists of the contemporary galaxy cyclically state that dreams are wholly cerebral mirages which occur in the brain only and nothing more. Conversely, those whose telekinetic souls have been progressively attuned themselves to the Force comprehend that apparitions which exist in visions are not entirely superficial and should not be patently discarded as merely tricks of the mind, but are to be severely heeded. Accordingly, one can easily grasp why the dormant Jedi, who had once steadfastly served in the Dark Jedi Order of the Vast Empire, was so intensely involved in his seemingly pragmatic dream. For in it came the formidable airstream of a terrible wind which swept violently about him, mingled with wan soil, reminiscent to being in the tranquil eye of a vast cyclone or a perilous dervish yet somehow protected from its lethal might. It was in this inexplicable storm that he beheld the slender yet curvacious figure of a youthful woman, adorned in a pastel zeyd-cloth garment, who appeared to materialize from thin air, evocative to a celestial divinity, as she entered the passive eye of the storm with her hands moderately outstretched. Her mystifying face was oval and exquisitely beautiful in the extreme as if every feature had been tediously chiseled by the Creator himself. Her enchanting eyes were alluring and lustrous, while her head was surmounted by a captivating mass of waving, dark hair. Her beguiling face was nearly pallid except for the ruddy glow of her cheeks and aesthetically molded lips which caused a strangely enhancing effect. Upon fully entering the serene eye of the storm, the monsterous cyclone seemed to dissipate instantaneously as if her means of transportation was no longer de rigueur. "I am Aleema Keto, originator of the Krath", she softly aritculated in an entrancing voice. The Jedi master bowed self-effacingly before her, "Your servant, priestess. I am Rarc - - - ". "I know," she rejoined mellifluously, subtly disrupting him in an affable tone, "You are Rarc Spartacus who was born to one of the illustrious socialites of the Roonian aristocracy. Upon being dispatched to Coruscant by your prudent uncle, you greatly excelled in the Imperial Academy to a point in which you were promptly granted a favorable commission. Several years later you soon became a foremost figure amongst the Dark Jedi Order wrought by the prominent Field Marshal Caramon Majere. Moreover, you are a principal atavism of the Force." A few moments of haunting silence passed until she ploddingly continued in an allaying manner, "Though born with relatively diminutive level of midichlorians , you have effectively managed to attune yourself with them to an extent far greater than is conventionally expected. I fairly extol you for this and wish to inform that I have decided on you as my key adherent in the upcoming events which will transpire shortly." The retired Jedi master cocked a suspicious eyebrow, "Your futile attempts at blatant sycophancy will have little consequence upon my judgement, Aleema, nor do I have any attention to become a decadent member of your dissolute entourage." "Do not endeavor to astutely mask your unambiguous emotions," the spirit replied acquiescently, yet vaguely curt, "Your materialistic aspirations towards my femininity, as well as the deplorable fortitude of your will, are as clear as the enthralling stars over Korriban on a lucid night. Do you dare presuppose that I am utterly blind to your passionate sentiments? I perceive full well the myriad of countless months, nay incalcuable years, you have piningly depleted perusing my contemptible deeds from the ancient Krath holocrons, and have broodingly pondered over charming canvases of myself so that thy corporeal cravings could be comparatively satiated in some reasonably visual sense. Nonetheless, your individual aims are not the pressing quandary. The predicament is the distasteful future of the Coruscantian Empire." "Why are you so interested in the future of the Empire?" the Jedi master probingly inquired. "Because if your cherished New Imperium dies, the last prospect for the Dark Side ruling once again dies with it. For almost an entire decade the malevolent spirit of Marka Ragnos, the first Dark Lord of the Sith, had quietly been manifesting itself within the sanctified womb of a Byssian female who is in the populated systems controlled of the Vast Empire. The Byssian female had at length born a child who is now at the age of ten. Luke Skywalker is fully aware of this through various canards of Jedi prophecies concerning the Dark Side and has dispatched several disciples to the Lorn system. They will do whatever is possible to either capture or destroy the child." " . . . and you want me to prevent this? Either eliminate the disciples or acquire the child?" Spartacus asked inquisitively. Aleema elegantly nodded with poise, "Correct. If the child falls into the hands of Skywalker, the fate of the Empire is lost. It would be best to approach either Grand Master Kadann or Deputy Grand Master Atrus and ask for the assistance of the Dark Jedi in finding the child. Reveal nothing to them of me, for I shall be visiting you in the future. Farewell . . . " As her last words resounded with a slight unsettling echo, the graceful spirit of Aleema Keto faded slowly as the horrid force of wind once again whirled about the Jedi master in his mind. Within a few disquieting moments he was fully awake and breathing heavily. IP: 24.237.58.18 |
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Atrus Citizen Posts: 192
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posted June 04, 2000 11:46 AM
Master Spartacus walked down the corridor leading to Deputy Grand Master Atrus' chambers. He stopped infront of a set of large double doors. "Yes, Master Spartacus?" a voice rang through from the other side of the doors before Rarc had a chance to knock. I hate it when he does that. . . Spartacus thought to himself, as he walked through the doors. Spartacus bowed before the jedi within. "Master, I came here to request the Dark Jedi Order's assisstance in recovering a child that was manifested in a Byssian female. It is at the age of ten now, and is referred to in many of the prophecies of the dark side. This child may very well lead us to victory!" Spartacus explained. "Luke Skywalker and his disciples are searching for the child as we speak. . . They seek to either capture or destroy the child." "Yes, and we are to destroy the disciples or obtain the child, correct? Or how about even better... Let's do both" Atrus said with an evil smile. He stood up, strapped his two swords to his back. "I will lead Griffen Sect in this opertaion, since it is of such high importance. You will assist me since you know so much." "Excellent. . ." responded, very pleased. "Come we must inform Master Kadann at once." Atrus said as he walked briskly past Spartacus. [This message has been edited by Atrus (edited 04 June 2000).] IP: 199.174.105.4 |
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