Dark Jedi Brotherhood
Clan Vizsla
Lt. COL. Hector Von Ricmore
Unknown Space and Time

Exiting the portal he chased Su Well and her men through was a disorienting experience. Hector Von Ricmore was overcome with a sickening dread, a sense of perpetual wrongness that clawed at his mind and body. The Zeltron had done many abominable things in the name of science and discovery. But even he was loath to pursue the path Su Well walked.

There was a natural order to the galaxy, a degree of fate that all were bound to. One could fight against their fate and the outcome that awaited them. Yet the Force fated situations to bring out emotion. Conflict especially. Was the Force evil? Such a thing was difficult to say. It empowered those who sought conflict, many Sith were traditionally stronger than their peace loving Jedi foes. But an argument could be made that the Force simply sought balance. Even at the height of their Empire the Sith were dwarfed by the many Jedi who populated the galaxy.

Despite this it was tempting to call the Force evil. It always pushed the galaxy to conflict. It was a cruel and fickle master, awarding its favor at times which seemed seemingly random. It reveled in chaos and destruction as much as it did peace and love.

This situation was absurd. Traveling through mystical portals to a place and time unknown. It was nothing Hector had ever wanted to do. Su Well could not be allowed to get away with her plans; Hector feared the wrath of the Force all the same. It may not come for him today or tomorrow, but the energy source produced by Midichrolorians would always win in the end. It played the long game and sustained itself with the emotions of the galaxy as it waited.

The time for philosophy and critical thought had passed. The bizarre nature of the situation and alien feelings made it easy for one to mentally spiral out of control. Hector had a mission and it was time to get back to it.

Forcing his musing to come to an end through a burst of willpower the Zeltron began making his way forward. The land he found himself on looked strangely familiar. But he couldn’t shake the sense of foreboding wrongness which enveloped him.

The landmarks seemed similar to Zsoldos, but where the ground should have been a frigid and arctic tundra sat obsidian and other volcanic rock. The heat was almost oppressive; Hector had begun to sweat beneath his armor.

His yellow eyes soon widened in recognition as he caught sight of Su Well who appeared…to be having a breakdown?

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this…it wasn’t supposed to be like this! I am Su Well and I am chosen! I found the portal to the past, outwitted those Vizsla simpletons, only to find an alternative reality unconnected from the present!” The Miraluka raged against the injustice, the lack of fruit produced by all her labors and machinations.

Hector couldn’t help himself. He laughed. What started as a chuckle soon turned into a huge belly laugh. The absurdity of the situation was too much for him to handle. The Force itself was not keen on allowing people to meddle with fate. And it had delivered a rather appropriate response to those who sought the past.

Su Well turned to the sound of the laughs. “You! This must be your doing! I’ll make you suffer for this. You will known unending agony and suffering. You will beg me for death and weep for your end. Then and only then will I allow you to die.”

“Are you sure about that?” Hector responded

Su Well snapped out of her tirade, noticing the Zeltron standing next to the portal. His Jetpack and several blaster power packs had been propped alongside the archway.

“This reality will serve well enough as your prison. Goodbye Su Well.” The Zeltron fired several blaster bolts into the power packs as he dove into the portal. He heard a scream of rage echo behind him as he warped back to the World Between Worlds. He reappeared in the temple, the archway housing the portal collapsing behind him.

Having returned to the temple Hector decided to destroy the rest of the portals. Time was not something Mortal man was meant to control and he could do with earning some good will from the Force.

Hector Von Ricmore
Clan Vizsla
Unknown Space

Reality rippled and whirled around the Zeltron known as Hector Von Ricmore. Distorted portals, doorways to various space and time surrounded him.

But why was he here? This was more than the result of a ritual gone awry. His last ritual had stripped the former quaestor of the majority of his connection to the Force, all that remained was the smallest of tethers, enough to utilize alchemy and rituals but none of the conventional Force abilities.

He hadn’t intended or chosen any materials which would allow for the manipulation or time or space in such a regard. He would be disgusted with himself if he did. The timeline was one of the few sacred and unchangeable things about the wider galaxy, or at least that is how it should be.

Whoever was messing with time and space to such an extent needed to be punished.

Hector made his way across the darkened stone, passing black monolithic structures. The monuments evoked feelings similar to that of Sith structures. An uneasy dread filled him. A sense of wrongness. Wrong Space. Wrong Time. Wrong. Wrong Wrong WRONG!

Shaking his head to clear the feeling which nearly overcame him the armored Mandalorian made his way further into the world between worlds.

The shapes formed on the portals began to grow familiar. He saw the Millennial Falcon, a younger version of himself and Appius Wight laughing aboard.

He saw his first apprentice, Dakor Terrok, the only one to make it to Knighthood. There was still hope for his new apprentice Kasmar, but the galaxy was a dangerous place. Who was to say what fate awaited them?

Images of his consul Korvis, glorious warrior astride his War Droid.

Kanal flying various ships, obliterating his enemies in space.

And then he saw things unfamiliar to him.

Strange rituals, plots by the Children Of Mortis.

Various Mandalorian Clans, garbed in new colors and embracing new ideologies. Among those stood a traditionalist armored in white and gold. Ursula Taabir; was the name the portal supplied to him.

But this was no time for hesitation. He made his way forward, seeing Su Well and a number of mandalorian acolytes.

Pulling his blaster rifle he exchanged shots with them. Downing member after member as he made his way forward.

He activated his Jetpack and took to the skies, weaving around bolts and returning fire.

In the chaos Su Well fled towards one of the portals.

Hector continued his pursuit, slaying Mandalorians left and right and jet packing towards the portal.

He was tackled by one of Su’S men and brought down from the sky. The man tried to grasp Hector’s throat by he defended himself by smashing a knife hand into the being’s adam’s apple.

Getting to his feet once again, Hector rocketed forward into the portal, following Su Well into parts unknown.

As he emerged from the portal light and darkness assaulted his features. He was once again overwhelmed with a sense of wrongness. But he had to push through to find his target.

House Deathwatch Capital Ship Ravager
Hector Von Ricmore
Space near the Mimic Station

‘The Force was truly a terrifying power.’ Hector Von Ricmore mused to himself. The Kiffar had received a series of fragmented visions ever since Juda Graves had feuded with the member of Mandalorian Clan Fero. He didn’t need the visions to predict a coming conflict with the Clan. Vizsla was not a group that would allow disrespect from rivals. And with the growing ambition to establish themselves as an influential power group it was inevitable that they would come to blows with Fero.

On the subject of visions; Hector had foreseen images of a great battle. Crusader Class Corvettes and Nebulon Capital Ships Surrounded a Space Station. The Clan Fleets of Houses Deathwatch and Wren drifted through space, shattered and burning from a failed invasion. The debris was enough of a giveaway that a frontal assault was doomed to fail. Or, at the very least, would cost Vizsla lives and their house fleets before the Saxon fleet arrived.

This was unacceptable. It was a fate that would be avoided. If Vizsla would have difficulty in a frontal assault they simply had to weaken the enemy through trickery.

Hector took advantage of his security clearance within the Collegium. Few books and sources of information were unavailable to him. He had spent days reading about Sith artifacts and holocrons, finally devising a way to construct alchemical objects that would allow him to influence the user.

He then worked himself into a fervor. Creating modified weapons as well as alchemical jewelry and treasure. Broches of Sapphire and Ruby encrusted with gold. Beautifully engraved blades of durasteel. A sword of Beskar adorned with mandalorian crusaders and ancient runes served as the masterpiece to complete the trove.

These creations were packed onto a transport freighter crewed entirely by memory wiped droids. The transport was intercepted by Clan Fero, who eagerly took the spoils for themselves. The Beskar blade was given as a gift to Admiral Sunda Shrike to curry favor with him. But in doing so the Fero member had unintentionally brought about the doom of the Mimic Space Station.

Shrike and his commanders had been corrupted by the Force alchemy artifacts over several weeks. They were filled with a paranoia of the members of Clan Fero not on their ships. It drew on the suspicion already present, many had questioned their leaders about the shadowy Miraluka who came and left as she pleased. Shrike had no answers for them. Vizsla intelligence agents anonymously forwarded propaganda information identifying the Miraluka as Su Well and claiming that she was merely using Clan Fero as tools until they are discarded. This paranoia grew into outright hostility. Shrike’s fleet turned their weapons on Mimic station right as Clan Vizsla arrived to conduct their invasion.

The Ravager exited hyperspace alongside its complement of fighters and transports. The bridge was a flurry of activity as they received a transmission. The holographic image of an Aqualish, Admiral Shrike, appeared onscreen.

“Admiral Shrike, I take it you have received our intelligence. Clan Vizsla would be happy to welcome you as allies. All we ask is that you aid us in taking this station and hunting down Su Well.”

“That is…acceptable.” The Aqualish replied.

The combined fleet opened fire on the station, rapidly destroying its turret protections. The station defenders were unprepared for their own allies to turn on them; allies who were close enough to target the turrets with pinpoint accuracy.

And just like that the Space Battle for Mimic Station was won, without a single casualty.

Corusca Conference Center
Canto Casino
Cantonica System — Corporate Sector
40 ABY
Hector Von Ricmore

A frown adorned the face of Hector Von Ricmore. He had much to be irritated about. Peace talks between the Consuls had been interrupted by an unexpected arrival of ships bearing Plagueian IFF tags. The last transmission from the Concordia listed the ships as "Two Victory-class destroyers, six Aquitens cruisers, and a pair each of Strike cruisers, Nebulon-C frigates, and Corellian corvettes.”

Truth be told, the human wasn’t worried about the situation in space. Their own representative ship, The Concordia, was arguably the greatest non Superweapon ship ever designed. It was easily the equal of an ISD 2, but its triple shielding and immense weaponry made it far greater in Von’s eyes. Plagueis may have the advantage of numbers but no single ship they deployed was equal to Vizsla’s flagship.

But something was wrong. Plagueis could be aggressive but these tactics were sloppy even for them. It would have been far easier to take out the consuls and their aides through an explosive or ambush.

They wouldn’t have bothered with the facade of peace talks. Why go through the trouble of limiting the delegations weaponry and armor only to begin a space battle and not slay them in the conference room?

No, this was something else. The situation reminded the mandalorian of a recent event, a false flag attack aimed to discredit. It slipped his mind of who was impersonating who, but such a scenario occurring once again was not impossible.

“Korvis. There is a chance that this isn’t Plagueis. You recall the false flag attack from a year or two ago? I can’t recall who impersonated who, but we shouldn’t rule out the possibility of it occurring once again.”

The Consul paused in thought. “It is not an impossibility. The Brotherhood as a whole, not to mention a Clan of slavers would have many enemies. Regardless, we should evacuate to the hangar.”

Hector nodded in agreement. “I suppose the clans will all move separately, hard to trust each other after this fiasco. Just give me a few minutes to rig some weapons together, Plagueis didn’t allow me to carry much.”

As part of the negotiations Korvis was allowed to keep his armor and weapons. In return He forfeited bodyguards. Hector was allowed in the room as an advisor but his armaments where limited. No armor, a striker slugthrower pistol they knew he was unproficient with (to provide the appearance of a weapon), a fiber cord whip, blinding dust and jet boots for an escape, a glass bottle of Corellian whisky, a nerf towel, a spotlight glow rod, and a hydrospanner for his amusement.

Hydrospanner in hand, the Junker disassembled the glow rod and slugthrower. He then reassembled the items together in the form of a makeshift blaster. While he lacked Tibanna gas the blinding dust could work as a substitute.

Entering the Casino’s kitchen the human heated the dust into a gas before trapping it in a nearby container. The gas was then placed in the makeshift blaster.

Hector then realized he needed a suitable melee weapon. He took several swigs from his whiskey before smashing the bottle on the counter. He then broke off one of the chair legs and fastened the bottle to the leg using the wire from the fiber cord whip.

With a set of weapons fashioned the pair left the room. Hector moved behind Korvis; the lack of armor ensured he had to be careful.

The pair moved through the Casino taking down dozens of sentients in Plagueis garb.

The duo arrived at the hangar and moved to one of the LAAT/I transports used to transport Plagueis troops. Korvis provided cover fire with his Westar pistol, sending blaster bolts at the Plagueis forces.

Hector made use of his Hydrospanner and mechanical expertise to Hotwire the vehicle. While he couldn’t slice the software he was able to manually gain access through the hardware of the vehicle.

The duo settled into the pilot and copilot seat before lifting off into the air. Once they cleared the atmosphere the communications jamming stopped, they had left the range of the blackout. Korvis flew the ship towards the Concordia, while Hector transmitted their IFF to the flagship so they would not be shot down by friendly forces.

Mandalorian painted X wings clashed with various Tie craft in Plagueis colors. 2 squadrons of Mandalorian Star Vipers emerged from hyperspace. One reinforced the X wings while the other escorted the LAAT/I back to the Concordia.

The duo exited their ship in the hangar.

“Allow me to reclaim my armor, then we have a battle to win.” Hector proclaimed.

Cuddling with fur
Man’s best friend ever with me
Home among my pack