Gathering of the Guard: Return to Yinchorr..

[Guardsman Kylx Mirran]

[c]<font color=darkred size=2>[i]*** Amidst the Core Worlds, Coruscant -- Once named Imperial Center in the wake of Palpatine's New Order -- was bathed in crimson by a massive rising sun, lifting elegantly above a seemingly endless horizon. A trillion lights, laid upon Imperial-Center's landscape like a magnificant carpet, stretched without end as far as the eye could see, and long trails of traffic illuminated the skies as if a constant flowing rivers of stars streamed in all directions. Dawn had fallen. ***

[Guardsman Kir Kanos]

There he sat, motionless, at the helm of a finely-tuned Skipray Blastboat. A battle helmet hid Kir Kanos' identity beneath its walls, allowing no sound escape and no sight penetrate. An unrevealing scarlet overcloak had a similar effect, shielding a muscular physique encased in battle armor of the finest crafting. The resulting appearance was both cryptic and lethal.

A brief -- but by no means inexplicit -- transmission coursed repetitively from the vessel, relayed on an ultra-secure frequency designated by use of no one save Palpatine Himself and his circle of Royal Guards...

<font color=red>Congregation. Yinchorr. Squall. Standard day(s): one. For the glory of the Empire.</font>

... Loyalty never dies...

<img src=http://images.dhorse.com/images/features/swce.gif>

[Captain Joachim Fena]

"Admiral Fena"

The voice broke Joachim's concentration. Putting down the stylus and pad, Joachim Fena stood from his desk, nodding at the ensign. Admiral...what a foreboding title. Most officers would do nearly anything for it to adorn their names. For Fena, it was much the opposite. Now, he stood vigil behind a desk, overseeing deployments of the Empire's Coruscant Defense Force. Half a year ago, he was commanding his own Victory Star Destroyer. What a terrible prize that valor had bestowed upon him. A hero of the Empire, Fena was quickly plucked from the combat front, and decorated with the title of Vice Admiral, and charged with overseeing Imperial Center's defense. In reality...it felt more like a prison sentence than a commission. Fena sighed. Every day, he longed for his captain's chair again.

"Yes, Ensign." Fena replied.

"Sir...reports from District 3045. Prince Vryn has been killed."

Fena nodded.

"Good news, I hear. Have a report sent out, commending our offic-"

"No sir...our forces were not behind the attack."

Fena paused.

"They weren't?"

The ensign shook his head.

"An outside attack, from all the evidence."

Fena straightened the hem of his officer's jacket.

"This is most unprecedented. Double the patrols in that sector, and have the fleet intensify orbital patrols. If this is a changing of the guard in the crime empires....I want to know the people behind it. Immediately."

[Guardsman Kylx Mirran]

[c]<font color=white size=2>[i]*** His Force-Glaive, twin-bladed means of delivering swift justice -- twin-bladed means of survival, felt ice-cold, as he ran a bare hand along it's razor-sharp tip. His gaze, striking and intense, slowly took in the desolate land-scape of Yinchorr as he stepped out on to the platform to face his friend and training-partner, for whom his survival had depended for so long. The order came, and the two warriors advanced. Two men; Kylx Mirran and his closest friend, attacked each other. Their training took over, and in the end, after a contest most fierce, Kylx Mirran's blade swept past, severing his year long companion at the waist.***

[Guardsman Donavin Styx]

[c]<font color=red>Amidst the smoking ash and rubble lie the bodies of those who would betray the Empire. The Guardsman known as Styx, moves from the smoking debris, his crimson cloak flowing around him once again. The fabric moves side to side and resembles a river of blood. His weapon once again concealed, his task completed.

[Guardsman Kir Kanos]

Lifeforms. Detected on Yinchorr.

Kanos' initial response was that his brethren had reached the Hellish world before he. He dismissed the thought almost as readily as it came.

Having set his Blastboat down half a kilometer from the Squall -- the very Squall he, like so many others, had slain his very closest friend and brother in a climactic test of worth, their memory forgotten after being consumed into the seemingly endless chasm that welcomed the inferior counterpart.

Smugglers. He had assumed as much.

After brief survelliance, the guardsman concluded there were five.

Easily done.

---

"I did it last time! You do it!" the largest of the group bellowed over a writhing fire, set deep within the intricate caverns seving as sanctuary to the elite Imperial Royal Guards.

The fools hadn't even found the entrance to the main chambers. This would be easier than he had thought.

"I ain't doin' it... hey, what was tha-aaaggghhh!"

The nasal, high-pitched voice was silenced with a clean stroke, pitching his head from his shoulders to thunk uselessly against a deceivingly fabricated rock wall. The entire complex was constructed to appear naturally formed.

The cavern was lit with blaster fire, scattered and unfocused, the four remaining smuggler's firing randomly.

The only indication of an attack was a bleary, crimson haze. One instant it was there, the next, gone. Their fallen comrade served as the only proof the surreal attack had taken place.

And then it was hopelessly clear.

Kanos landed with feline-like grace in the midst of their pow-wow, his blade licking out to cancel two of their own with a single maneuver, sister blades carrying through their chests on parallel courses.

The remaining two took off at a clumsy sprint, headed for their vessel, an outdated freighter of an unknown make. Kanos had already disabled it.

The stock of a heavy blaster rifle came to Kanos' shoulder, the sleek barrel singing a pair of high-pitched, deadly notes.

They took the two fleeing smugglers between their shoulder blades, dropping them to the cold cavern floor in a sprawling heap.

Now he had only to wait for his compatriots.

[c]<img src=http://www16.brinkster.com/MadMAximus/KANOS8.jpg>

[Guardsman Donavin Styx]

[c] <font color=red>The Guardsmans Skipray moves through space swiftly.


As the Guardsman travels to meet his brothers upon the unforgiving surface of Yincorr, his sensors indicate an older model Imperial Vessel ahead. He scans the ships surface, identifying it as the scout vessel 'Venati" known to be in the possetion of the Imperial Traitor -Commander Peter Tong-. With a few simple commands, the Skipray is on an intercept course as the smaller vessel heads for a nearby planet.

[Guardsman Aryn Relkin]

Aryn advanced down the sidewalk, his face illuminated by regularly-placed street lights. It's placid expression betrayed the fact that ten men had lost their lives to him in the past few hours. He passed an inviting Twi'lek prostitute, giving her the cold shoulder on the way to his modest apartment.

Aryn Relkin had once been a nameless, soul-less being, killing for a living for the glory of the late Emperor Palpatine. Protecting the most powerful man in the galaxy, his life had had purpose. Now, he was a nameless, soul-less being, killing for money. He was the Champion of the underground gladitorial circuit on Remrerra IV, having been undefeated the last five years. Bringing death to other men kept him alive. If they could be called men. His opponents were weak,nothing but cocky boys who dreamed of making it big in the galaxy. Such aspirations made them worthless. Thus, their lives were taken by Aryn Relkin without remorse.

He entered his apartment, the blinking light on his comm unit catching his eye immediately amidst the cloak of darkness. Probably another message from his landlord. He had the credits. He had more than enough credits... The towering Relkin sat down on the edge of his bed, flicking a switch on the comm unit. He read the message. This had to be a hoax. No. The former Guardsman recognized the frequency. His cold, blue eyes trailed towards his closet where his battle-worn armor lay....His life had purpose again. For the glory of the Empire. He would join his Brothers shortly.

[Guardsman Sifer Creed]

<font face=Helvetica><font color=silver>Sifer Creed tosses the smuggler, ‘Lo Feena, small brown bag. </font> “Hey, what tha...We agreed to three times this amount,” <font color=silver>Feena stares at Sifer, </font> “I want the rest of it, and I want it now!” <font color=silver>Creed swings a backhand at Feena’s face which Feena easly ducks under. Creed then follows with a sweep to Feena’s legs, which again Feena easily leaps over. </font> “Ha!..You fool, do you know who your are dealing with!” <font color=silver>Feena mockingly yells toward Creed. Swiftly, the black leather gloved hand comes from Creed’s waist holding a standard E-11 Blaster, Imperial Issued, to Feena’s head. </font> “...Dodge this...” <font color=silver>With a pull of the trigger, ‘Lo Feena’s life is no more, as his brains are spread across the wall from the crimson projectile ejected from the barrel of the E-11.

Two of Feena’s cohorts quickly into the room after hearing the fire of the E-11. </font> “He’s dead!..Get that mother!” <font color=silver>yells the first cohort. Creed quickly spins about tossing his E-11 into the hands of the man. As the man catches it, to his own surprise, Creed sends his right foot into his gut then slams his palm into the man’s face crushing his nose. The second man comes up behind Creed and swings into his back. Creed spins catching his arm and swings the man into the wall, he then follows with a knee into the man’s spine sending the now paralyzed body to the floor. </font>

“...Filth...” <font color=silver>Creed bends down lifting his E-11 up and placing it back on his waist. He then spins about leaving the men and entering the main room of the casino. Creed walks among the masses making way to the exit and heading toward the hanger. He remembers during his years as a Royal Guard, how these low lives lived in fear under the Empire. He gets to the exit, pushing everyone out of his way.

He walks up the ramp of his ship...and minutes later, he is out in the darkness of space. As his ship cuts through the stars, answer the call of his com-link, Creed sits back in the command chair thinking. Slowly he stands and walks toward the back of his ship toward a long metal door. </font>"...Yinchorr..." <font color=silver>he says quietly to himself as he opens the door. Behold the crimson cloth he wore so long ago with his brethren, the cloth of the elite. He reaches in removing a long metallic cylinder from the side and holds the cold instrument of death in his hands.</font>

“...Glory to the Empire...”

[Pierce Tondry]

On a ship in the middle of space, Pierce Tondry was planning his next move. His grandfather had eluded him several times, once at Fondor, and again at Ithor. He'd lost time on Arcan IV during Operation Mudcrawler, and now had to make it up by learning what his grandfather had done during that period. Or by setting a noose to catch the man. Whatever else he was, Ivan Tondry was slippery as hell.

' Old habits die hard. Just like the Tondry name.'

Abruptly, a light started blinking on his comm unit. His signal array was multi-keyed, with a number of specific frequencies to watch programmed into it. Being in the direct line-of-transmission to the Chandrilan hypercomm relay from the one at Coruscant was helpful for intercepting things.

Pierce did a quick check of the frequency that had been caught and frowned. It was the old holonet relay frequency for the Imperial Royal Guard, a frequency he had been aware of for a long time.

Congregation. Yinchorr. Squall. Standard day(s): one. For the glory of the Empire.

Well, well, well. Apparently some old Red-Armors were still alive and kicking.

Which begged several questions. Questions such as "Where the hell had they been while loyal Imperials had fought and bled and died trying to keep the Empire alive?" Such as "What self-important tasks had they been up to while the Empire had floundered without support?"

Damned egocentric bastards.

Filing the notice away under something that demanded his attention later, the Vice-Director of Imperial Intelligence continued his work on finding his grandfather.

[Guardsman Kylx Mirran]

[c]<font color=white size=2>[i]*** It is said; if an Imperial Royal Guard listens, he can hear the war cries valiantly hailed from the blazing ashes of war, before the noble gathering of Guardsman had finally succumb to vastly overwhelming numbers. An aged and weathered, twin-bladed Force-Glaive, impaled within the soil of Yinchorr, marked a historic battle ground -- The betrayal of Carnor Jax. Next to it; enshrouded in the most lavish of Imperial Sovereign Protector armor, stood Kylx Mirran, listening.***

[Guardsman Kir Kanos]

The Royal Guardsmen stood together, a surviving troope of five, out of a corps of a number considerably higher. The survivors were undoubtedly only the fiercest of warriors.

They gathered in the Grand Chamber, Palpatine's throne standing like a brazen tower at the far end of the illutrious hall.

At one point in his life, Kir Kanos' would have been proud to call Palpatine his Emperor. Now he spat on the foul name.

In a lustful quest of blood, the Royal Guardsman had slain the Interim Council, a travesty to the Galactic Imperium. This he had done in the name of his Palpatine. His Emperor. His father. His trusted friend. Or so he had thought.

It wasn't widely known that the Imperial Royal Guardsmen were often chosen for their latent Force abilities. These abilities were honed and tempered with training, although not widely utilized within sight of prying eyes. The Imperial Royal Guard was very secretive and obscure. Not many knew of it inner-workings. Those who did had known too much had been touched by death... in most cases, very mysterious and unexpected tragedies or disappearances.

Athletic, intelligent, and living with distant relatives, Kanos was a prime target for the Imperial Stormtrooper Legions. He excelled rapidly, the deaths of two Instructor's on his hands. It was no matter. When his Force abilities were taken notice to, he was snatched from the Legions and sent to the mysterious Yinchorr. There he learned what it truly was to suffer.

Many had thought the secretive Guardsmen had faded away, cowering in face of the defeat at Endor. Carnor Jax, the treacherous acting Emperor, had the Guard corps massacred. Kanos, and a very few others, scattered about the Galaxy, had survived.

Kanos became nothing more than a shadow, picking off the Interim Council members one by one, and eventually claiming victory over Jax himself. Not many knew of this excerpt in Galactic lore, and had thought the elite Royal Guards to be all but extinct. Later texts and writings in history would shed light on these events, marking Kir Kanos a hero.

Only in the following years had Kanos learned of the Imperial doctrine and fidelity-ensuring techniques. Through psychological manipulation, and in some cases, brain-altercations, the Empire had duped its soldiers and adherants into mindless followers of Palpatine and his twisted ideals.

Only when Kanos found his grandmother, a Jedi Knight, was slain by Palpatine and his lapdog, Darth Vader, did the name taste bitter on his lips.

Lining the walls of the cold Grand Chamber walls hung the Imperial insignia, the cold, lifeless symbol marked on standards, spaced with miltaristic precision.

Sha-ink!

Equally lethal blades rasped free of entombment, a razor-tip glinting briefly in face of the artificial light.

The Force-Glaive, only wielded after years of the harshest training, split the air.

A banner, hung from chamber walls, swam to the floor, the Imperial crest split down the middle.

"Brothers. I have much to explain..."

<img src=http://www16.brinkster.com/madmaximus/KANOS8.jpg>

[Guardsman Donavin Styx]

[c]<font color=silver size=5>Yinchorr

[Guardsman Kylx Mirran]

[c]<font color=white size=2>[i]*** Awaiting just that, Kylx Mirran abruptly shifted aside atop the balls of his feet, hurling a Force-Pike through the Main-chamber. Having learned of Guardsman Donavin Styx' treachory, the Sovereign Protector planned to slay him on sight, and did just that. His aim; flawless, sending a lethal blade sailing across the room like a vertical propeller, to cleave straight through the unsuspecting `Guardsman's` heart, killing him instantly. ***

[Guardsman Donavin Styx]

[c]<font color=red>Never having expected this of those he called brothers, sinks to his knees, his face expressing his utter shock. He lifts his hands slowly, removing the crimson helm in which he has hidden so many years. His hand lifts to the scar upon his face, his final words ring out with a sense of clarity or purpose....

[Director Ysanne Isard]

<blockquote>
Travelling through hyperspace aboard the Super Star Destroyer Isard's Revenge, Ysanne had time to reflect upon the recent past. The Emperor's death brought about drastic changes many weren't prepared for. With Lord Vader gone, Isard had assumed control over what remained of the Empire while the other Sith Lord's were busy quarrelling over who would assume command.

[Guardsman Sifer Creed]

<font style=Helvetica><font color=silver>Clouds of smoke swirl around the ship as it lets out exhaust from its travels. Slowly the metal ramp lowers and a bright light shines down upon the floor, like that of a dragon breathing fire on its prey. The Guardsman slowly walks down, his boots clicking against the ramp. At every step, his face seems to stay hidden among the shadows, and as if about to be seen by light, it is quickly covered again. He reaches the bottom of the ramp slightly digging his feet into the dirt. He then lowers himself into a crouching position picking up a hand full of dirt. He smells the dirt, </font>“...Yinchorr...” <font color=silver>He rubs the dirt within his hands letting it bleed through his fingers. He then stands placing his helmet on finishing his assumable.</font>”...I’m home...” </font>

[Guardsman Kir Kanos]

After elucidating upon the mistreatment of Imperial soldiers, the 'corrective' brain surgery being a chief point, and the twisted infrastructure of Palpatine's New Order, Kanos was alerted to the presence of two collosal warships orbiting the world.

She has arrived...

"I must go. You know how to contact me, brothers."

He didn't know whether this revelation would even chink their undying loyalty to a fallen and sinister Emperor.

---

Minutes later Kanos' Skipray Blastboat found its way into the underbelly of the Super-Class Star Destroyer Eviscerator, flanked by a pair of TIE-Interceptors.

Exiting the deadly Blastboat, Kanos found himself directed to the bridge. A Hologram of Ysanne Isard, ex-Director of Imperial Intelligence, awaited the Royal Guardsman.

A microscopic nod and the removal of his helmet -- an act unthinkable when he was under Palpatine's thumb -- sufficed for greeting.

"Isard."

[Director Ysanne Isard]

<blockquote>
Isard returned the nod, subtly, with the same respect once returned long ago. Never one for pleasantries, Isard kept the transmission brief.

[Guardsman Kir Kanos]

Scarlet cloak thrown over his right shoulder, brandishing flawless, untarnished armor, Kir Kanos watched, unmasked, as Isard's Revenge slung into hyperspeed, her destination unknown.

It was one thing to live a life as an unnamed Imperial Royal Guard... it was completely another to take command of a Super-class Star Destroyer, fully manned, thousands of crewmen and women subject to your every command.

Eviscerator. Such a cruel, gruesome title.

"As my first act as commander of this warship," Kanos spoke to the bridge-crew, the handful of Imperial-bred personnel paling, unmoving and attentive, having heard tales of the Guard Legions, rarely leaving out the brutal details, "I shall rechristen her the Infliction (already in use?)."

"Now. I demand each and every man and woman's loyalty and respect. Give it to me, and it shall be returned."

"Navigations."

"... yes sir?"

"We will be heading for Dayark, in the Kathol Sector. I trust you can get us there in one piece."

"Yes, sir."

"See to it."

A curt nod, and the Royal Guard, well-versed in military logistics, saw to it he took a personally guided tour of his newly acquired war-machine.

[Vost Tyne]

The Super Star Destroyer "Vengeance" travels through the slipstream of hyperspace. It's commander, one Vost Tyne, stands silent upon it's main command deck. The "Vengeance", recently departed from Yavin 4 by way of Korriban, remains unmoving from it's course to Yinchorr. With Lord Tyne's previous experience, that of a Naval Admiral within the Galactic Empire, he was no stranger to space travel nor to the operation of a Star Destroyer. His mind, however, was not upon that nor was it directly upon what was ahead....

Upon the openly traversed planet of Yavin 4 the Sith Lord had found his quarry. An ancient channeling structure, built with the express purpose of channeling Darkside energies. The time passed slowly, once within the stone confines of the channel. Soon a voice called to the Sith Lord...."Korriban"...is all he heard, but that was enough. Before the hour was out, his ship had begun it's journey to Korriban...

The terrain seemed restless as he moved into the valley, the feeling he was not alone was one he could not shake. His eyes constantly scanned the area, watching for a threat though somehow he did not sense when. He felt as if this, this valley of death, was a place in which he belonged. Moving to his right, his silence still unbroken, he entered the structure. His life about to change, though he could not possibly for see it. His eyes turned to the tall statues, the Dark Lords upon their stone thrones. The sight somehow made the feeling increase, that he was about to meet his destiny. A voice rang out through the shadows...."Lord Tyne, at last we meet."...Tyne snapped around quickly...."It appears so"...he replied..."And who are you?"....the shimmering figure appeared before him..."Lord Bane, I bring you what you seek."...Tyne looked upon the figure, having heard of Lord Bane in the tales passed down to him by his teacher...."And what is that?"...Tyne asked, though somehow already knew...."Your future...."....Tyne turned full, removing his hood slowly...."Then we shall indeed speak......"

Sharply Tyne's attention was returned to reality, his bridge officer announcing..."Ships leaving the Yinchorr system Lord Tyne."...just as he expected, the delay upon Korriban had caused him to reach the system to late....."Alter your course, commander."...Tyne barked...his was in no mood to be bothered..."Take command of this vessel. I will be in my quarters, see that I am not disturbed."...he turns in silence, striding to the metallic chambers which had become his sanctuary...."Now it becomes more interesting."...he thought to himself from within the walled prison of his quarters..."Finally, my time has come.".....