[@Honesty Crow]


				[b]Pestage's Folly[/b]


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Miryia Farlina of House Janus, Jedi Master and architect of atrocity, engineer of conflict and what one Sith termed a "mistress of false flags", had long suspected a truth that was almost too terrible to put to words a truth that had dismayed her almost as much as the realization that her long sleep had denied her the chance to guide the dark age, to push the fall to where the slate would be wiped clean. Punishment, she once thought for her greatest sin, her greatest gamble. But she'd awoken to a Galaxy that was born in the culmination of the first stage of her plan and then, to see a Sith carry it out, only to implement what should have been the second act at the end of the first millennia of the war, for his own personal vanity and not out of a broken souls nihilistic rampage when he realized the truth.  That those who valued their individuality, their vast personal might beyond any other treasure save their freedom was merely, the last in a long line of puppets for the will not of the force, but a single sentient who held both they and their mortal enemies in Judgment. No, she thought, he engineered the New Order, to sound as appealing as possible, the great pipe dream of so many, so much of the galaxy only for it to be governed by the most unstable, ignorant, degenerate, imbecilic batch of inferiors in the known universe! It wasn't designed to endure long without him, not the sith, but him...The Sith were dead, their legacy would have lived on solely in his malformed and atrophied soul, not his apprentice, but him and he'd intended to endure ten thousand years!

And if he couldn't achieve that, then the Galaxy could burn around his ashes, a magnificent pyre to sate the vanity of the universe's biggest fool! Orchested by the pathetic clowns, thugs, vermin and upjumped slaves she saw before her. Slowly, the room began to grow cold. Slowly, the walls began strain until finally plasmarble cracked and lights began to flicker. Miryia bowed her head and one of the Royal guardsmen stammered backwards, he might have been force sensitive, not enough to merit even a spot on the Inquisitors but enough that he perceived what was truly before him and he gave a yelp "My Lord! This thi-" he went silent, as a laughter, that might have been beautiful when it was filled with joy but was filled with a madness that froze his blood! Oh, he was no stranger to laughter of monsters, for he'd served The Emperor, his dark lord well but where Sidious had the frenzied laugh of a malevolent being high on his own darkness, this, this was a corruption of light, a burning insanity that terrified him. Her laughter rose, a chorus above the bickering and the posturing. Miryia's shoulders briefly became lopsided, her posture contorted, her hands clenched into fists, bone white hair fell about shoulders that were ordinarily statuesque and yet not looked like the costume of something, not at all humanoid and more akin to a eldrichian serpent. For the briefest of seconds, before she straightened again and the world saw only the gallant, noble image she intended the world to see.


Until she spoke, her voice was powerful, commanding, in it was the authority of a Master of the Jedi Order, a woman bred to rule, a noble, a war hero, a complete and utter lunatic. "How did the fool mean to achieve it?! Via clones? Life theft? Alchemically created golems?" she asked in a contemptuous hiss, Pestage who'd been wheezing out a kill order, went silent in horrified recognition at her question...But he remained silent. Others in the room paused at the seeming absurdity of the question. "You! Stunted Hoodrat! Ghetto born swine! Bastard son of a whore, drug spawned degenerate, disappointment in the eyes of your father" How she knew these things about a man whose entire life was obscured to all save Palpatine witnesses would later speculate on. "Your better has addressed you! Oh? You won't speak! Are you fearful? Or have the decades of spice use and venereal diseases accumulated from Twi'lik leavings of your sodomous paramours addled your brain beyond all memory?" The last part might have been a total calumny for all she knew, all she knew was that it was what people of his level were, diseased and she didn't care if he was the exception. Pitta was about to speak and Miryia turned, the sheer fury in her eyes, the icy contempt, the revealing glare that recognized silent him 

"And you, filthy, fraud! Do you think your blustering venom can conceal your true nature from my powers? Or my senses? Fool! I'm Arkanian, engineered to be superior, I can smell the stench of non human DNA all of your body! And you, who are so mongrelized that you can't even name the species who had sex with your foremothers to yield you, who no doubt crawled, bawling from the rancid pit between your mystery meat mothers legs! You dare slander a Bothan whose blood is pure? Whose lineage higher than any in  this soom save Grand Admiral Grant and myself? You detestable spawn of immiserated slave! Freedman trash! Your vehence betrays your coward's hypocrisy!"  Some other imbecile Grand Admiral appeared as though he were about to say something, perhaps in her defense. It was the one who used narcotics to expand his mind, she sent a simple thought to him -When I want the opinion of someone who might be found in an alley with a stim shooter in his arm next to Pitta's mother I'll ask for yours, stay silent for now-


"Do none of you know?! Hah! You pathetic creatures, of course you wouldn't know! How could you? You who recite the pledge to establish a new and peaceful order upon a galaxy, the loyal, the brave and the true fighting for the justice of the wise, dispensed from on high to the teaming masses of a Galaxy inundated by corruption! Do you truly lack the self awareness to see it? Or are you so afraid of the truth? You reprobate fools champion order?! The Emperor's peace! YOUR EMPIRE IS A LIE! DESIGNED BY A FOOL CHASING IMMORTALITY OF THE FLESH!" Her voice cracked like a thunderous scream and she whipped around and flashed Raveem a look that suggested he should pay close attention to the reactions of many, for some began to see what she was saying and their eyes filled with fury at the betrayal from the very roots of their cause and were reinvigorated by a desire to restore the New Order free of its chains while others despaired and most gawked like fools who thought her mad.


"This Galaxy had a chance to start again! The force! Had a chance to be understood for what it was truly and you braying carrion eating jesters fight amongst yourself Squandering it?! You speak of treason while you maneuver yourselves to gorge on the leavings!" A new order of Force users, true Knights dedicated to order and justice, warrior priests and scholars with blades, fighting side by sight with the elite of the Storm Troopers. For that alone, they were all damned. "And now, you brawl like thugs? Traitors I name you!" her voice grew less mad but the held in it a prelates intensity, a ferver of religion, she wasn't merely insulting them but judging with the certitude of one given a mandate from what many considered the will of the force (even though she scoffed at such notions). "lower your weapons..no? You won't?"

She flicked her left hand forward with an alarming suddenness and golden lightning roared from her palm and impacted against one of the guards flanking Pestage with enough force to blow his torso wide open, blood sprayed about the room, armor splintered and one of his ribs rebounded off the head of Grand Moff Hissa who roared with delight and pulled a blaster.

The room went dark as walls cracked and lights failed leaving only the glow of blaster fire, vibroblades


And a pair of serpents eyes.