Eternal Father
A thousand ships moved as one, careening through the incandescent tumult of hyperspace. All aboard waited with anxious trepidation, their mouths tightly shut as they focused about their duties. None smiled, few talked, and what words were spoken were clipped and concise. All knew that they were on the precipice, they had just taken the deep breath and were awaiting the plunge.
Rationally, their minds thought, that they should not be as on edge as they were, for they had trained for this exact moment for near-on three decades. A great number of them had known nothing but preparation for this coming day, but those among the leadership could recall a time before; when the galaxy trembled at their passing, and all was right in the universe. Humiliation, shame, anger; these were the hallmarks of a people defeated yet hungry for revenge. It was the younger generations that knew not of the before-age, except what had been passed down to them through myth and legend.
The bridge chrono ticked down another notch, the sharp mechanical click almost as loud as an exploding grenade as it cut through the near total silence. Sweat gathered on furrowed brows, but they dared not swipe it away. Their minds were fixed upon their tasks, even if by now they had become menial and redundant. Anything to keep their thoughts preoccupied for the moment, to distract them and keep them blissfully ignorant.
After they'd passed the threshold, there would be no going back.
"Converging on hyperspace egress, prepare for real-space transition."
All on the bridge froze in place, time appearing to stand still. But a moment is all it lasted before they were again active, minds turning from anticipation to action as their hands and arms moved in perfect motion; muscle memory firing in overdrive. Outside the viewport, the swirling cerulean chaos began to subside, the streaking lights of stars dissolving as space again took on solid form. Ahead was a trio of celestial objects, a planet and two moons, framed against the bright yellow glow of a distant star.
"Dromund System identified, maneuvering towards Dromund Kaas. Prepare for launch."
Pilots, sequestered within the cockpit of their fighters and bombers, flipped switches and adjusted dials as their craft purred to life beneath their touch. They'd been waiting inside their ships since departure, spending the hours it took to pass from their mustering point to the Dromund System in isolated contemplation. Some passed the time in silence, others repeated litanies and other prayers with the same fervor as a preaching crier. Now they could finally be put into action, to fulfill the purpose that beat deep within their bones.
At a signal, all fighters launched from the larger crafts. The bombers followed shortly thereafter, much slower and less maneuverable than their nimble cousins. They'd run the simulation over a hundred times, knew the exact layout of the system, and had their flight patterns drilled into memory. They needed no correction, they ran like oiled clockwork, and their minds were all as one.
The centerpiece of the fleet was the Eternal Rule, a massive flagship of onyx black armor plating. It trudged forward, slightly ahead of the rest of the fleet. It would be the spear which thrust through the heart of their foes, the vanguard of glorious reclamation. A God stood upon it's bridge, wreathed in an invisible power. His armor clanged as He walked forward, like the tolling of great bells signaling doom. He watched the fleet unfold through bright copper eyes, seeing far further than the instruments of His vessel and it's lowly crew. He could see His coveted prize before Him, and His mouth split open in a feral grin.
With a gesture, He spoke through the ears of all within His mighty fleet. "Steel yourselves, my faithful, for the day of reckoning has at last come. Our day of vengeance, our day of justice. We have returned."
And thus the Sith returned to Dromund Kaas.
I. The Watchers in the Sky
In the wake of the Sith Empire's collapse, vultures swarmed over its carcass. Among them were the Ashlan Crusade, Light-blinded zealots that fervently worshiped the Light Side of the Force and completely shunned the Dark Side. Fate would have it that these cultists would plant their flag upon our holiest of worlds, defiling them beyond all conceptions of sacrilege. They tore down our monuments, eradicated all edifices dedicated to our glory; to the memory of our forebears.
To control Dromund Kaas, once the heart of our great Empire, they constructed military observation platforms in the upper atmosphere. These monoliths of steel and wire were built for two purposes -- to monitor those left behind, and to retaliate against them when they stepped out of line. Long has Dromund Kaas suffered under the yoke of these tyrants, but that time has come to an end.
Destroy them.
Ensure nothing remains.
II. Blinded by the Light
As the Ashlans commanded the skies, so too did they master the land. New Kaas City has been enthralled by the foreign invaders, almost unrecognizable. When they destroyed our monuments and tore down our temples, they replaced them with their own. Icons venerating the holy saints of the Ashla can be found adorning every avenue, banners fluttering from the tallest parapets.
It is an aberration.
As the Ashlans are driven from the air, so too must they be driven from New Kaas City. Scour this world clean, ensure that no trace of their heresy remains. Kill all those who do not recant, capture all who do. We shall spare those who profess loyalty to their true rulers from the blade, but they are not to be trusted. What perfidious lies the Ashlans have woven we do not know, but we will cleanse all minds, ensure the purity of all hearts.
When our labors are done, and our swords are sheathed, Dromund Kaas shall again be free.
III. BYOO
