HoloNet News EMPEROR DEAD: Imperial Moffs Council Assumes Control.

[Voren Dhur]

EMPEROR DEAD: Imperial Moffs Council Assumes Control.​

Emperor Drast had died following a 'period of illness' the Imperial Security Beaureu has announced, in a statement released this afternoon. The Emperor, who was the first non-force-sensitive to assume the post, oversaw a period of economic expansion, expelled various leading figures in the Sith Order, and led efforts to secure the Imperial border.

The news was accompanied with the dual announcements that the Imperial 'Moffs Council' had been convened to lead the Empire, alongside news that the Imperial Councillor, Altair Din, had 'retired', and left the Imperial Leadership. It is understood that the former Sith resigned ahead of the news breaking that the Emperor had passed away.

Consisting of Sector 'Governors' known as 'Moffs' within the Imperial Leadership, the Moffs Council will assume operational command of the Imperial Armed Forces and ISB, as well as taking ownership of the Imperial Legislature and Executive. Speaking to the Herald today, Moff Tharsa welcomed the news saying -

 

[Nor'baal Desilijic]

For the many billions watching the broadcast, or reading it on their holoescreens, the monitor went black. For a few moments a simple logo dominated the video screens of billions.

The sigil of the Hutt Cartel.

Then, a being flickered into the shot. A protocol droid tapped into view, and bowed to a figure off screen.

"Pray silence." it began, opening a datapad from which it proceeded to read "For his Grand Emminence, the Supreme Mogul, Nor'baal Desilijic Fa'athra, Mighty and Everlasting Leader of the Clans, Soveriegn of All that he Surveys."

The camera panned out, revealing a vast army of Gamorreans bedecked in armour, vast droids, tanks and ships hanging in the air, as if poised to strike. Above it all, standing on the balcony of the Hutt Supreme Moguls Palace, could be seen Nor'baal, who spread his arms wide, and bellowed his announcement.

"Behold! The Majesty of the Clans!" a tumultuous roar rose from the crowd below "All Glory be to the Hutts, who have outlasted a pitiful Empire, and its weak and febrile Emperor." he boomed a deep laugh before continuing "There is only one master of the Galaxy, and his name is Nor'baal! Therefore, let is be said that this, is a declaration of Supremacy, and of War! All 'Imperial' Space shall submit to the might of the Clans."

"To your Moffs I say only this, to each of you shall be a wealth beyond counting, if you submit to my rulership. To those who resist - DEATH" a triumphant roar rose from the crowd.

"I have mercernaries, legions of them. Apex, the Syndicates, the Night Wind, to them all I promise credits enough to drown in - all shall fall before the might of Nal Hutta, all shall pay homage to only one" he spread his arms wide, raising his voice to the exhultant cheeering of his audience as he shouted "Emperor Nor'baal the First!"

The vast horde of mercenaries and soilders screamed his name back, as weapons discharged into the air, and the contract to Apex, and other mercenary companies, was issued. Credits, in larger amounts than they would ever have seen, was offered in return for their service - to the Moffs, Generals, Commanders, ISB Leaders and Adminals in the Navy, millions upon millions would be offered in return for their service.

To those who declined - only death.

The broadcast ended.

The offer had been made, the Empire would submit piece by piece, those who refused, would face war.

 

[Dusty Daytonus]

Dusty Daytonus, king of the Ploo system sat back on his far-too-large throne sipping a Dantooine ice twist while watching his monitor droid. It was nighttime on Ploo IV and Dusty was indulging himself after a long day of shirking responsibilities by watching his favorite action thriller on the HoloNet - Rodian Rampage 4. Personally he thought the third installment had been a bit of a departure but 4 was a welcome return to form for the gorey franchise.

However, right before the scene with the Nexu King battle, the broadcast was interrupted with a very familiar face to the corrupt Glymphid. Nor'baal, his old benefactor and the man whose bribes, political support and AT-RT walkers had helped win Dusty the throne in the first place. Of course, such favors hadn't come free, as Dusty had opened up the oil reserves of Ploo II to the Cartel, had given them free reign to establish a base of operations on his home planet, and paid a regular tithe to them every month.

And now Nor'baal wanted even more?

If Dusty wasn't also trying to expand his own empire, he would have begrudged the Hutt but game respected game. Still though, how would this affect Dusty's plans to conquer the entire Ploo sector? No doubt the Hutt would expect support from his Glymphid ally but would that mean wasting Dusty's valuable army on hunting down Imperial targets on some backwards Imperial planet in the Outer Rim? That didn't appeal to the tiny king at all - there were planets in the Ploo sector that maybe there was a way for both of them to get what they wanted.

"Droid! Send a message to Nor'baal. Tell him his trusted and loyal friend, King Daytonus, welcomes his wise and righteous dominion over the galaxy. Inform him that I will immediately begin making plans to bring the rest of my sector to heel and that every planet in the Ploo sector shall pay him the tribute he deserves." Dusty ordered a courier droid.

Better to nip this in the bud now before Nor'baal ordered him and his troops to Hoth. Dusty hated the cold.

@Nor'baal

 

[Guinevere Delevigne]

The shocking news of the emperor's passing would have made a lot more impact had the ISB not already been keeping it under wraps. What they couldn't account for was the sudden and surprising move by the Hutt Cartel to leap in and attempt to wrestle control of the empire.

What the Hutt's failed to grasp was that wrestling control of the empire was the ISB's speciality. Overseer Guinevere was hot on the case, working overtime and all through the night to ensure the safety of those under her and those closest. If she succeeded it was a moot point, but failure would be the end of her, and thus she had to prepare accordingly.

Writing an encrypted message, the Overseer would attempt to have the Cartel's message blocked on Imperial devices and instead displaying patrotic images of the heroics of General Dram (@Alhon) Lord Commander Varyn (@Phoenix) and former Grand Marshal Altair Din (@Sreeya) alongside the text - "They support the Empire, so should you!"

Sending another encrypted message, this time to a close friend of hers, the time for action was nigh. Kali, the ISB director is in danger and I need your help, meet me at our spot. (@LadyRen)

Creating a programme to scour the Imperial records to delete mentions, records and images of her friend's homestead, her own families locations and the like, the woman fought through tears doing so. But in the event of a Hutt takeover, she wouldn't allow them to be targeted so easily.

@empire

 

[Altair Din]

Altair was back on Bandomeer, his daughter with him for the next two weeks. Since his retirement from the military, he was afforded far more time to just wander around like he used to when he was younger. His time was entirely his own and he considered returning to full time farming. Altair was going to stay on the farm for a few weeks to pick up the work again and set up trade with some of the local farmers.

The Holonet was on and he was seated on the floor with his daughter who was slamming her hand repeatedly on a toy piano, “Come on’ baby girl I can’t get your hair done if you keep wigglin’ like that,” Altair said with a chuckle, in the middle of braiding her hair. She only gave a giggle and vigorously shook her head to purposely make it more difficult. The tiefling laughed some more, “And we gotta polish these horns up,” He said, reaching up to run his fingers along his own that were not as polished as they should be.

The Holonet switched to breaking news, and he looked up when his own name was mentioned about his retirement. He watched idly, his fingers rapidly threading together his daughter’s hair into a braid. However, that was when the feed was interrupted to announce Nor’baal’s bid to move against the Empire. Altair’s head jerked up, amethyst eyes fixed on the screen.

He knew how fractured the Empire was when he left. He knew it was going to struggle to pool together its resources and assets. Altair’s throat went dry. He stared at the screen, thinking of his career with the Empire. He thought of when he led the defense to protect Korriban from the Killik for the Empire, when he took on a Jedi Councilor to secure Mustafar for the Empire, when he established the loyalties of Imperials for the Empire, when he formally left the Sith to become fully Imperial for the Empire, when he led the invasion against one of the most powerful Force users in the galaxy - former Empress Renfry - and defeated her for the Empire, when he obliterated the Empress and her top Councilwoman in a coup for the Empire, When he ousted his own friends from Imperial territory for the Empire, when he saved the Empire from certain collapse for the Empire. He thought all the times he bled and almost died for the Empire. He thought of how many brothers and sisters he saw die. He thought of all the times he had but to take the mantle of Emperor and how for years others had called him that informally.

His head turned to the side to look at a shelf, upon which his helmet rested. It was just as shiny as ever, the impressive four pronged horns standing proud. He hadn't behind that visor in a long time. But then something caught his attention - it was a sticker. A little porg sticker stamped onto his beloved helmet - a sneaky move courtesy of his daughter who had no clue what her father had been. Altair stared at that little sticker for a moment, the fire that was burning in his eyes slowly melting away into the soft, purple hues. He smiled to himself, turning back towards the Holo to change the channel to an animated children's movie.

"Come on, darlin', we're gonna go out for ice cream later," He said as he kissed the top of Zara's head.

The helmet remained untouched.

 

[Spurius Livius Gaetulicus]

Walking through the streets on Raxus, Spurius was first saddened by the news of the Emperor's death. He was then quickly shocked and appalled to see such a blatant power grab from an outside force. In a time of tumultuous change, it made sense the slimy hutt would rear his head.

Looking up to the nearest screen as the broadcast continued. Spurius was among the civilian populace going about their lives. Pull up his comm unit he would begin to send encrypted messages to his Imperial counterparts This is bad, meet me at the palace or as close to it as your clearances will allow... We need answers and a plan.

He quickly typed out sending the message and then typing another The Empire shall stand or I shall die defending it. He concluded the second message and hit send.

Spurius would then turn to a few of the other Knights he had ventured out with saying "On my honor, my life and my blade. I will defend our way of life and I hope you will as well." He then made his way towards the palace.

 

[Kellan Solari]

Twenty-seven thousand plus souls. That was the standard complement of crewmen on a Oneger-Class Star Destroyer such as The Detente. A city’s worth of humanity piloting a floating metropolis through the expanse of space. And every single face in twenty-seven thousand wore shock and dismay as though it were simply another insignia accompanying their uniform.

In the ship’s hangar, Captain Solari circled his Interceptor’s port solar panel for the umpteenth time, eyes tracing and retracing every rivet and panel with marked attention. But while his body sought comfort in the familiarity of routine, his thoughts were a maelstrom of conjecture and hypotheticals. Emperor Drast was dead. This in and of itself was no great rarity. Emperors had died before. Ambitious and influential Moffs or Admirals typically stepped into the ensuing vacuum, shaping and concentrating the winds of change to their own designs.

This time felt decidedly more perilous.

The hangar’s comms issued a series of trills and all sound and movement abruptly fell away. The customary tones that indicated an address from Admiral Vakar himself demanded the unquestioned attention of all aboard.

“Men and women of Seraph Fleet, this is Admiral Vakar speaking.”

The old man’s baritone resonated throughout the hangar’s interior but Kellan detected what he thought was an undercurrent of fatigue.

“As all of you are aware, the Empire once more finds itself at a critical juncture. Emperor Drast is gone. Such a blow could not have come at a worse time with so many of the IAFs best and brightest extinguished at the action on Ossus.”

“The reins of power have fallen to a Council of Moffs. Until a new Emperor can be selected, it is their stewardship that will guide us through this tumultuous time. Our loyalty passes onto them and we will be called upon to see their collective vision through in the days to come.”

The admiral paused a moment. No one moved. Kellan knew full well that Vakar’s message was being transmitted across the whole of Seraph Fleet. The thought of so many Imperial hearts hanging on the same words snaked a shiver down his spine.

“A Hutt warlord, in a brazen act of audacity, demands the very throne of the Empire for himself, threatening war should he be refused. He has at his command, a motley assemblage of mercenaries and brigands. The Moffs, in their unwavering allegiance to the Empire’s core principles, have refused such a preposterous ultimatum.”

“As such, we have been notified to make preparations for potential hostilities. The Empire must remain resolute in the face of those that would try and intimidate us in our hour of mourning. I ask each of you to remain steadfast in your duties. Seraph Fleet is the bulwark of Imperial Defenses and shall never shirk from its given duty.”

“We shall maintain order, protect our territories, and bring the fight to our foes, whoever they may be. We will not yield to threats of war. We will persevere, unified in our cause and prepared to defend our ideals. Trust in the Empire, trust in your fellow crewmembers and trust in our cause. Together, we shall show the collective will of the Empire is as great a power as the galaxy has ever seen.”

“Admiral Vakar, out.”

The transmission squealed into silence and Solari read the faces of his fellow Imperials. The Empire was in a state of transition and change. Fear was as natural a response as any to such upheaval. Kellan turned from his Interceptor and strode across the hangar’s interior. There was comfort in the familiar. And what was more familiar than war?

 

[Khalid Din]

Somewhere in one of the more expensive apartments that a bounty hunter could afford on Nar Shaddaa, a Tiefling stared at the screen with his jaw open. Never in a million years had he seen this coming. The good thing about his job, about working for the various syndicates in the Outer Rim, was that it was a quick way to gain credits outside of his home. He never had been one to do "honest work", so at least his dirty work didn't need to stain the name of his family, nor would they be influenced by the horrible things he had done.

But now? Now he started to receive offers from one of his main employers, the Hutts, to work against the Empire, jobs that would pay better than any bounty he had ever done, money that definitely tempted him, for Khalid had never felt Imperial, he did not care for them, their emperors, their military, their strict laws and everything else. But he cared about his home, the little farm he had grown up on.

He cared about the incredible palace that his brother had gained from turning them into a royal family...And he cared about his family, residents of an Empire that had many flaws, but had treated them right. While Altair had retired, his little sister, the princess, the pink little devil, was an imperial knight in training...And He knew the kind of scum she would face off against. After all, her big brother was part of them. Why did everything have to be so complicated?

"Ugh, I need another line."

 

[Nathan Braxon]

Senator Nathan Braxon was enduring a layover in a particularly poor executive lounge when the news broke. The headlines caught his attention immediately, with far too many buzzwords that should never be said together. The Empire. The Hutts. Invasion.

Nathan was on his feet, stepping closer towards the small holodisplay, his hands grappling with one another. No, no, this was all too soon.

The Senator had intended to connect with the Hutts in time, to weave what support he could extract from them into the plans he had already set in motion. They would likely have backed his fledgling alliance, supported his efforts to create a power bloc to rival others in the galaxy. The Empire would have been undermined, hemmed in, and the resultant friction would have served them both.

But this was unexpected. The Hutts were powerful, but they were moving against a dragon asleep after its great battle with Raze. No one could predict whether it would be too fatigued to fight back, or whether it might rise with a renewed fury. It was the move of gamblers and gangsters and Nathan did not like it one bit.

The Senator motioned to Stamper to get them on the first ship out of here. Events would move quickly.

 

[Perla the Hutt]

Spoiler: Music

It was a warm morning on the beach. The sea was like a lullaby; a melody to the sky’s majesty so high, but quite like a mirror. Above and below were just as blue, where the welkin drifted with marbled clouds of seasalt; a marvel for the water.

Kymmm, yes, must write that down. Perla the Hutt was no poet but hoped to be within the next eleventy years, maybe. An Ugnaught of hidden depths was doing his best to teach her. He had spoken. She had listened.

For now it was all Perla could do to lounge on her chair on a private beach bereft of anybody else. Except for her servants, of course.

“Hey, Shit For Brains. This drink is kriffing EMPTY.”
She held up an empty packet of Saki-Star as a dimwit stared back at her which earned him a smack in the face with said packet.

“Bring me ANOTHER ONE!” She had spoken.

“Right away…YOUR MOST EXQUISITE UBIQUITOUS MAJESTIC POETICALLY PLATYHELMINTHIC—”

-WHACK!- With a wet fish.

“WAGGGHHHH!!”

Finally she was given a Saki-Star of lemon liquid and her lips kissed a straw.
“Kyaaaaaaahhhh now to sit back and relax on my fat ass listenin' to the ocean KYAHAHAHAHA—”
-RING!-RING!- Went her smarphone.

“KARK A KARKIN’ KARKARODON— Hi this is Perla how may I help you?”

“Perla, are you watching the news!?” Spoke some dumb Hutt.

“Kyehhhh I’m takin’ a much needed vacation. Got more cracks on mah back than Kylo Ren’s kriffin' helmet.”

“Who?”

“News. K. Got it.” -Click- Newsflash on phone screen. “...” Moments pass.

N-Nor’baal… Blank expression. Staring off into the horizon. Speechless.
“You…You did it…my…beautiful…wonderful…Hutt who has no idea how badly I want to have as my husband and be his queen and he’d be my king and I'd butter his buns morning and evening and I CAN’T KRIFFIN' BREEEEAAAAATHE”

Up on her figurative feet, Perla rushes toward the sea. Hutts were natural sprinters. Very dangerous over short distances! Mama Perla’s comin’ with her Nunion and her Chariot, hubs! Can’t contain her excitement.

“MOISTURIZE MEEEEEEEEEEEEE”

“PERLA DOOOON'T”
“YOU CAN’T SWIM”
“MY QUEEEEEEEEN”
“OH NOOOOOOO”

“Wait shouldn’t we be cheering?”
“If she drowns then we’re free...”
“My nipples do melt in the sun.”
"..?"
“FREEEEEEEEDOOOOOOOOM”

“K I'm back. Ready my SHIIIIIIIIIIIIP"
"..."

 

[Alistair Blagden]

Alistair watched the screen long after it went black, the Hutt's ultimatum hanging in the air. A wry half-grin settled on his face - his observations had been correct. A power vacuum so strong that even those outside the Empire wished to fulfill. A Hutt Mogul on the Imperial throne, however, was something that could not be allowed to happen.

Beginning to make preparations, Alistair opened up a line to a friend. "Senator Tyr (@TheDudeMike ), I know it is poor manners to ask favours of a new friend...but dire situations call for dire measures. You are experienced with combatting Hutt influence in your system," he stated grimly, gazing out the window of his Columex office upon his peaceful homeworld. Perhaps not for much longer. "I now find myself in need of said experience."

 

[Cornelius Aurelius Grey]

I walked through bustling squad bay and into my little office, peeling the soaked physical training uniform off my body and hopping into the way-too-small shower unit inside the suite. My tense muscles began relaxing as the scalding water washed over me, relieving the tension and salty sweat from my form. Unfortunately running was necessary, but I was at least able to break up the monotony by leading my section through a simple four mile run through a pretty sweet trail. With my body rinsed of sweat and salt, I palmed the cutoff button for the water and grabbed a towel.

I sat down on my small bunk and grabbed the remote, turning on the tv. I landed on a DIY Home channel for woodworking after spending a few minutes mindlessly flipping through the channels, watching as the middle aged man in a blue button up shirt and manicured black beard showcased different wooden handrails for staircases. Woodworking wasn't really my forte, I was just in it to look at the houses that were sometimes shown on the programme. I reached towards the nightstand, grabbing my lighter off the table and plucking a half smoked cigar out of the ceramic ash tray. I had about an hour and a half to get ready for the day, so I wasn't really pressed for time thankfully. Lighting up the cigar, I took a deep long drag off of it and savoured the maple scent it gave off as I exhaled. I eventually got bored with the current programme and began flipping through some more channels until a news headline caught my eye.

The news broadcast and it's following interruption by the Slug Hutt had just ended, and I sat there in my bunk in a sort of malaise. I quickly snatched my commlink and called my squad leaders. "Everyone be ready in the squad bay time now, we got shit to do." Hanging up the call, a dropped my commlink on the bunk and hurriedly pulled on my uniform. Things were about to be incredibly busy, so naturally before stepping out of my office/room I snatched a beer from the mini fridge under my desk and slammed it down my throat and walked out.

 

[John Tyr]

John's hard, emerald glare bore into the communicator as it buzzed to life. Senator Blagden had called. A surprise, and a welcome one until the words spilled from the small speaker. A low growl of contempt rumbled in John's throat. "Ord Mantell," he said in response, his gruff voice hiding nothing but a job needing to be done. If the Imperial Senator needed a taste of what battling the Hutts was like, John was more than happy to oblige.

@Shalken