Deep within the reaches of the unknown regions, and isolated from the rest of the galaxy. A small, hollowed out rouge planetoid drifted aimlessly through space, Najra-Va. In orbit around the sunless world a civilization had been germinating since the Second Great Hyperspace War. Once a small fiefdom of the greater war machine belonging to the Brotherhood of The Maw remained situated in its carved out asteroid.
The clones of The Dark Jedi, Romund Sro, continued their existence. Left on their own to find meaning without their creator. Already generations have been crafted and born, creating a niche society of once subservient clones to fend for themselves. In this time they have made great progress in their efforts for self sufficiency. Even forging for themselves new leadership off old plans formed by their old master. One made in the hopes of having more longevity and necessary leadership qualities. Something that the rapidly aged clones desperately needed. An elder to guide and look after them as the baton of their civilization was passed down between each new fresh batch of clones.
Now for them, situations and threats that once spelled calamity deep in the dark reaches of space could be overcome with much greater success. No longer needing to live in fear of the next time they may encounter a lost or migrating Summa-Verminoth that crept out from the cosmic void.
. . .
In the current year, where they have made great strides as a civilization. They would celebrate. Many clones gathered to witness the unveiling of a great project. A monument to a legendary hero that they all owed much to. Finally they had the time and luxury to focus on a more artistic endeavor to enrich their culture and spirituality. No longer required to pool all their resources and energy into merely surviving another week in the treacherous void of space.
Clones from all casts gathered in the large hall. Standing attentively before their large, concealed monument. Some awestruck from its size alone, others already in deep, reverent prayer. Walking through the organized crowd was their leader. Crafted most in the likeness of their creator. Made with power and leadership in mind rather than service. Who’s durable body was made of metal rather than the disposable flesh of their brethren. He walked to the base of the giant cloaked statue before turning to the crowd of eager clones that awaited the for the revelation of their new monument.
“Brothers…” He called out loudly, his voice a commanding yet reassuring tune for the clones. “Let this collective project of ours not just serve as a symbol to our faith and respect to a great hero, and to the sacrifice of our creator to see us free and thriving. But as a mark of our journey. The beginning of a new age for us.” This voice echoed through the large hall as he spoke. Sensing the potent eagerness from the clones within it.
