Darth Viscera
Apr 26th, 2001, 11:56:43 AM
OOC: For those who did not read the previous thread by this name (I suppose some complete and utter idiot decided to delete it, which makes it hard on all of us), an Imperial SSD has arrived at Bastion, where the people are very bad off and poor after Imperial defeats. The SSD dropped supplies to the planet, and an Imperial diplomatic party met with Pellaeon.
IC:
Viscera stared through Admiral Pellaeon, and in the process, his question went unheard.
"I said, will the plebiscite be held in the morning, or in the evening?" the Admiral repeated.
Composing himself, Viscera responded, "The rallies will be held at 4pm, the plebiscite at 6."
Pellaeon's eyes narrowed somewhat, "There's going to be a rally? Excuse me, rallies?"
Viscera responded in a dulled voice. He was preoccupied tonight. "Yes, Admiral Pellaeon. My officers have taken the liberty of renting several large lots of land for tomorrow. They are busy setting up comm-equipment and holopads as we speak."
Viscera's eyes settled on the withered face of Pellaeon. Had he not had sixty years in first the Republic Navy, then its Imperial successor, to fall back on, he supposed he would have shouted something lightly obscene right then and there. Luckily for the Admiral, he would not have to endure the death that would have followed, for he kept his anger in check.
"Good day, Admiral. You are dismissed," Viscera said after a few moments' silence.
Pellaeon bowed slightly, "Your excellency," he said softly, then walked out of the room.
Sleep did not come easily for Darth Viscera that night. His thoughts dwelled on his master, how proud he would have been to observe his progress, had he not been long dead.
****
Imperial guards clad in crimson flanked him as the turbolift ascended to the uppermost level of the Imperial Palace. A small chiming noise sounded, and the turbolift halted, its doors swinging open to reveal the Emperor's inner sanctum in all its glory.
A small holodisplay was tuned to one of the security cameras hidden in Manarai Hall. Viscera briefly wondered who it was that the Emperor had been watching. Viscera's eyes darted across the room quickly, taking in and analyzing all he saw. Vader loomed above and to the right of Emperor Palpatine, appearing statuesque; the epitomy of a sentinel.
"Are you well, my master?" Viscera asked, noticing the appearance of Palpatine. If anything, he looked more decrepit now than ever.
"I am alive, my young apprentice, but I have lost a great deal." Palpatine paused, regathering his breath.
"The future is no longer...open to me."
Viscera nodded, taking that in. His gaze turned to Lord Vader, who did not appear to be breathing. Viscera remembered the mechanical breaths his iron lung had produced.
"And Lord Vader?"
Palpatine paused for a moment, then stuck a bony figure in the general direction of Vader. The Dark Lord was thrown off the catwalk, and began his rapid descent. Armor separated and clanged against the walls as this occured, but Viscera could see no body.
"Lord Vader is...no longer with us, my friend. He has been lost to us for quite some time."
Viscera nodded. He did not know how Vader had died, only that he had. Further probing yielded no results, and only angered his master.
"You have done well. Continue to do so," Palpatine croaked, and Viscera's surroundings seemed to wither away.
****
Darth Viscera looked out at the thousands of humans massed below. He spoke the words he had memorized with a similarly learned passion.
"I can give you food, I can give you care, I can give you wealth, and most of all, I can give you Victory!" Viscera roared to the crowd below, as holocams recorded his image and transmitted it to the rest of the holodisplays set up throughout the planet.
The people cheered, many because their stomachs were full for the first time in years. The Empire had paid the best cooks from Imperial Center to accompany them to Bastion, in an effort to assist in swaying the populace the best way they knew how. Noncomissioned officers from the orbiting command ship had set up makeshift naval recruitment posts, which lined the rally stations strategically.
It was a struggle to continue the speech with any sort of enthusiasm, but he managed. It was a practiced talent. As the crowd roared, Viscera dipped his head sligthly to the people, then departed. A shuttle deposited him back on the command ship, where he awaited the results of the plebiscite.
IC:
Viscera stared through Admiral Pellaeon, and in the process, his question went unheard.
"I said, will the plebiscite be held in the morning, or in the evening?" the Admiral repeated.
Composing himself, Viscera responded, "The rallies will be held at 4pm, the plebiscite at 6."
Pellaeon's eyes narrowed somewhat, "There's going to be a rally? Excuse me, rallies?"
Viscera responded in a dulled voice. He was preoccupied tonight. "Yes, Admiral Pellaeon. My officers have taken the liberty of renting several large lots of land for tomorrow. They are busy setting up comm-equipment and holopads as we speak."
Viscera's eyes settled on the withered face of Pellaeon. Had he not had sixty years in first the Republic Navy, then its Imperial successor, to fall back on, he supposed he would have shouted something lightly obscene right then and there. Luckily for the Admiral, he would not have to endure the death that would have followed, for he kept his anger in check.
"Good day, Admiral. You are dismissed," Viscera said after a few moments' silence.
Pellaeon bowed slightly, "Your excellency," he said softly, then walked out of the room.
Sleep did not come easily for Darth Viscera that night. His thoughts dwelled on his master, how proud he would have been to observe his progress, had he not been long dead.
****
Imperial guards clad in crimson flanked him as the turbolift ascended to the uppermost level of the Imperial Palace. A small chiming noise sounded, and the turbolift halted, its doors swinging open to reveal the Emperor's inner sanctum in all its glory.
A small holodisplay was tuned to one of the security cameras hidden in Manarai Hall. Viscera briefly wondered who it was that the Emperor had been watching. Viscera's eyes darted across the room quickly, taking in and analyzing all he saw. Vader loomed above and to the right of Emperor Palpatine, appearing statuesque; the epitomy of a sentinel.
"Are you well, my master?" Viscera asked, noticing the appearance of Palpatine. If anything, he looked more decrepit now than ever.
"I am alive, my young apprentice, but I have lost a great deal." Palpatine paused, regathering his breath.
"The future is no longer...open to me."
Viscera nodded, taking that in. His gaze turned to Lord Vader, who did not appear to be breathing. Viscera remembered the mechanical breaths his iron lung had produced.
"And Lord Vader?"
Palpatine paused for a moment, then stuck a bony figure in the general direction of Vader. The Dark Lord was thrown off the catwalk, and began his rapid descent. Armor separated and clanged against the walls as this occured, but Viscera could see no body.
"Lord Vader is...no longer with us, my friend. He has been lost to us for quite some time."
Viscera nodded. He did not know how Vader had died, only that he had. Further probing yielded no results, and only angered his master.
"You have done well. Continue to do so," Palpatine croaked, and Viscera's surroundings seemed to wither away.
****
Darth Viscera looked out at the thousands of humans massed below. He spoke the words he had memorized with a similarly learned passion.
"I can give you food, I can give you care, I can give you wealth, and most of all, I can give you Victory!" Viscera roared to the crowd below, as holocams recorded his image and transmitted it to the rest of the holodisplays set up throughout the planet.
The people cheered, many because their stomachs were full for the first time in years. The Empire had paid the best cooks from Imperial Center to accompany them to Bastion, in an effort to assist in swaying the populace the best way they knew how. Noncomissioned officers from the orbiting command ship had set up makeshift naval recruitment posts, which lined the rally stations strategically.
It was a struggle to continue the speech with any sort of enthusiasm, but he managed. It was a practiced talent. As the crowd roared, Viscera dipped his head sligthly to the people, then departed. A shuttle deposited him back on the command ship, where he awaited the results of the plebiscite.