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Fandom Star Wars: Broken Balance Offical Real RP Thread

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Darth Vader's first mistake was allowing the Grand Inquisitor to lead the interrogation over Mustafar.

At first glance, it had been nothing short of the usual master strategy that the Dark Lord came up with. Use the captive as lure, bait the others in, eliminate them all in one fell swoop. But, he'd underestimated the Rebels; they had proven to be more capable than expected, and he put too much faith in the Grand Inquisitor's capacity to take care of them, not to mention the Rebels had the apprentice of Anakin Skywalker as an ally. Caleb Dume and his excuse of a Padawan would not be an issue, but Ahsoka? That was something else altogether. Her power far exceeded those of the two Jedi she aided. It would be an exceptional opportunity if she were captured—secrets could be pried from her mind, the dissidents would be further eradicated, and in the end, perhaps he would finally discover the location of Obi-Wan Kenobi.

But above all else, she needed to die. Ahsoka Tano was a threat to the Empire, as much as the Sith Lord did not want to mention it; if given the opportunity, there was no doubt she would stage a full-scale rebellion, perhaps even backed by Jedi. The thought had crept through Vader's mind since he sensed her presence. It was why he dispatched his secret apprentice, Starkiller, to become one of them. The apprentice would monitor their every move, while an Inquisitor hunted them, and the Sith Lord himself attended to other business. It was an efficient way to keep things under control. A weight lifted from the Dark Lord's shoulders knowing that everything was being done to find them.

Now, he had to clean up the mess that the Grand Inquisitor had left behind. It was a stupid idea to leave him in charge—somehow, the strongest of the bunch had managed to fall at the hands of two untrained Jedi, and if Vader did not find a replacement soon, his following of Darksiders would be consumed by madness. They would murder each other, give in to petty rivalries. Vader had foreseen it.

It was why he stood on the overseer's balcony of Fortress Inquisitorius, alongside the black-robed Sith standing to his left. Even with the hood draped over his Master's head, the Dark Lord spotted a scowled look of disdain. Darth Sidious was not pleased to be here, and rightfully so; had Vader been a little bit more competent in his job, the Emperor would not have had to travel 50,000 lightyears from his throne in the Galactic Center to oversee a pitiful drawn-out sports event. Maintaining a strict, controlled stance with anything relating to the Dark Side or the Force in general came with its advantages, such as having access to these Inquisitors, but it also meant that his direct supervision was required for many of their operations.

Palpatine ambled forwards, tapping his spindly black cane on the ground until he reached the railing. Below stood a dojo, plated in sleek dark-grey durasteel, and decorated with red Imperial banners down its walls, each of which sloped inwards at a seventy degree angle. At the far end of the room were two trapezoidal blast doors, both of which led to the detention level. The Sith Lord's eyes narrowed as he glanced from the doors to the group of Inquisitors amassed below, each standing on top of the grate that could connect or separate two halves of the room. Below them, bubbling in the crevice underneath the grate, was a pool of lava. One wrong move and it was all over. It served its purpose during the gruesome training of Inquisitors and special forces alike; not only did it act as an excellent fear device, it was also an effective hazard that could be employed and controlled.

The gathering consisted of High Inquisitors only—having normal Inquisitors here would be a waste of time and resources, and would ultimately end foully. The High Inquisitors had experience, power, training, and most of all, were less likely to kill each other over trivial differences. In many ways, they had matured away from their successors, and it was evident in the way they stood, presenting themselves to their Sith overlords; each High Inquisitor's back was straight, arms behind their back, and not one showed any discomfort nor fear over being close to the hot liquid mocking them from below, or having been summoned before the two Sith.

Vader's helmet lowered slightly. He remembered the lava, its hot bubbling thickness, the pain that both betrayal and baptism of fire brought, and what came after. He would have his revenge.
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"Tell me Old Friend," Palpatine's hair-raising voice spoke, "What is it that you have planned for these Inquisitors?" He looked up at Vader with disdain, hood covered his glowing yellow eyes.

His apprentice's job was to train the Inquisitors to be competent at the very least. The deceased Grand Inquisitor had died at the hands of someone who's training never went past the Jedi's pathetic idea of apprenticeship. Darth Sidious was enraged at Vader's lack of insight. How could he have chosen someone who was clearly so weak?

"How do you plan for this next Grand Inquisitor to be stronger than the last?" He asked.

Palpatine's terrifying presence was projected outwards to all those in the building. His main target was Darth Vader. One of the things he had over his apprentice was not only his ability to kill him on a whim with force-lightning, but also his ability to intimidate the seemingly indomitable Darth Vader. Sheev Palpatine prided himself on the power he held, and the death of the Grand Inquisitor began to display the cracks in his power he knew could be exploited. Having a strong Grand Inquisitor was key to his facade of invincibility.


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The sleek, armored forms of the High Inquisitors were lined in orderly fashion, shoulder to shoulder, still and disciplined. Their polished, obsidian helmets ominously reflected the glow of the lava bubbling below them, and yet they did not flinch nor display any sign of fear. They were the hunting hounds of the emperor - the most agile, strongest, and intelligent of their breed. Like dogs, they had no delusion of freedom, either: they were kept in tight leash, snapping and barking at anything that passed, yet cowering appropriately at the strike of their master's hand.

The Third Brother was only one of this rare breed. Like his compatriots, he stood tall and stout, unwavering and silent. But his form was not stiff - rather, he was poised to fight at any moment. The failure of the former Grand Inquisitor had left an open position. He knew what this was about, and he did not put it past Darth Vader or the Emperor to be so unusually cruel as to make them fight to the death. He had learned to prepare for the worst over his years as an Inquisitor. It was better to be one step ahead than dead, a lesson he learned well once he began seeing the mistakes of his fellow Inquisitors.

There was scarcely any camaraderie between the members of the Inquisitorius. Camaraderie lead to friendship, friendship lead to love, and love was weakness. It dimmed the fire of one's soul; the anger, hate, and will to survive. It resulted in the mediocrity and taming of the savage hunting dog, once proud but reduced to a passive, pleasant acceptance of inertia. He despised the sight of his "comrades" in love. Perhaps he was jealous, or the thought of such disgrace disgusted him. The reasons behind his hate did not matter, they only further fuelled his power.

And powerful he was, but so were the others. Here, scrutinized under the gaze of their masters, they were all the same. Only minute differences would separate them. Which hound was most intelligent, vicious, and quick, most suitable to lead the others? The answer was known only by the men standing above them. But the Third Brother cared little; he fought to survive. It was life or death to him. He possessed nothing but his body and life, and freedom, as he found, was given to a dog only in death.


The eyes of the Sith fell heavy upon Darth Vader. Every bit of anger and disdain, every scornful glance that his master casted towards him, pierced his metal shell, slithered down his back and he hated it. Vader once more cursed himself for fooling himself to think the Grand Inquisitor and his folly were capable of carrying out his will. He should have seen to it personally, and now the Dark Lord was paying for another's foolish mistake.

"They are eager to prove themselves," echoed Vader. "We will allow them to do so. Amidst the survivors will be our victor." It wasn't an order, nor was the Apprentice trying to tell his Master what would happen—it was merely a suggestion asking for its own approval.

In reality, it was little more than what these Inquisitors had to endure fifteen years ago, when each had been corrupted and turned to the Dark Side. Vader had personally overseen and participated in their learning process, often not holding back when it came to survival of the fittest, carving out pieces of light called Hope that they'd each clung onto, until their Sith overlords and their Empire were all they knew. Now, here he stood fifteen years later, and it did not feel any different. The location had changed, perhaps—that old warehouse in the industrial district of Coruscant had become cramped, unfit for service, and His Majesty the Emperor commissioned a fortress be constructed for the further training and corruption of Jedi and Force Sensitives alike. Vader chose Mustafar as the location for his personal fortress to be constructed, so the nearby moon of Nur was only natural to house his allies.

But still, the location didn't matter. The Inquisitors knew that their leader had died, and were aware what atrocities Vader was capable of; it was why each avoided upsetting the man out of utter fear. Now here they stood, all lined up for the chopping block. What was next? What feat of strength were they going to have to perform to survive, much less become Grand Inquisitor? These thoughts shot through many a Darksider the longer the silence droned on.
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Palpatine turned away from his apprentice, gazing upon the High Inquisitors. He could sense Vader's shame, which was satisfying, but the response only further angered him. Darth Vader avoided answering questions in a straightforward way to avoid punishment. Pondering upon this, Palpatine saw that it showed a glimmer of intelligence that proved how dangerous Vader can be. An intelligent apprentice is a danger for the master. He would speak with Vader about this transparency issue once his loyal dogs were done proving themselves to him.

The suggestion Vader gave to his master was straightforward. Sidious acknowledged it with a singular nod, but it needed modification. Having all the High Inquisitors die just to become the new Grand Inquisitor would only create a deficit of talent. The current Inquisitors were too inexperienced. They were loyal, but they were unrefined. The High Inquisitors are the refined talent that his Empire needs. Perhaps his most powerful servant, the one standing next to him, could be of use in this situation. After a few moments tense of silence, Palpatine gazed upon Vader once again.

"My apprentice, I do not want the High Inquisitors to kill each other at the moment. I want them to try and kill you," Palpatine said coolly. The burning gaze of Palpatine returned to it's full fury. The tone of their brief conversation shifted into something much more sinister. A disgusting grin spread onto the Master of the Sith's face.

He continued, "If they can survive against you for an extended time, they have enough ability to remain in my service. I do not want them dead unless I deem it fit. When I cease the duel, you will cease fighting. This is not only a test for them. Your failures have given me reason to consider potential replacements for you. If these mere High Inquisitors can kill you, it means that they were worthy of the place at my side you currently stand in," After a pause to relish in Vader's reaction, he dismissed him, "I will allow you to pick your first opponent."


Potential replacements. No.

He couldn't be replaced. The Sith refused to allow his Master to choose one of these High Inquisitors for that task. They were lesser than the both of them, unfit sometimes to even stand by Vader's side in battle; he was disgusted by the fact that Palpatine even considered it, if he had—this, of course, could have been one of his many sadistic tests meant to discourage or enrage his apprentice. There had been many similar ploys in the last fifteen years. Each time, Vader had come out alive and stronger than before.

But that was besides the point. Holding individual sparring matches against the Inquisitors lined up below would be easy. Vader had trained most of them himself, albeit quite some time ago, and a large power gap lay between each of them and him. They stood no chance.

"It is as you command, my master."

The Sith Lord bounded forwards, his blackened robes and cape flowing through the air as gravity brought him down to the dojo below. Vader landed on the thick metal ground with a loud THUD that caused a number of High Inquisitors to flinch. He knew exactly who to choose first—one who would make a great example for the rest.

"Second Brother, you will step forth." Vader rose. The red tint of his transparisteel lenses was made apparent, striking into their hearts due to the the light produced by flowing magma several meters away. "All others will observe from a distance."

◈ ◈ ◈​

At the sound of Vader's summons, the Nagai's ears perked up, his sleek, black-and-red-armored helmet tilting to a different angle. Was this his chance to finally prove himself? To raise higher than the rest of his "comrades"? Perhaps. Time would tell.

Iraddiaa strode forwards, breaking away from the line of High Inquisitors. His feet rang distinctively against the floor of the Imperial Dojo, until he halted in front of the figure of the Sith Lord. Darth Vader towered over him, watched him in complete silence aside from the constant cold breathing. Yes. This was his chance.


"This is a test," echoed the Dark Lord, unclasping the lightsaber from the black leather strip circling his waist. "You will prove your worth by surviving against me. Fail, and you die." It was, obviously, not the entire truth; killing even one of their Inquisitors would rouse the anger of his master even more than he already had. It wouldn't end well if he continued down the path he treaded oh-so dangerously.

A long, crimson blade, stained with blood and anger and rage, slowly emerged from the metal hilt and pointed towards the ground at an angle, emitting a snap-hiss. Vader gazed at the pale, snow-skinned Nagai Inquisitor as he took out his own circular lightsaber, spun it around, and ignited both ends, the same red appearing.

Arrogant, noted Darth Vader. Arrogant, and stupid. This would be a short fight. The mechanical reaper strode forwards, lifting his arms to the left and striking to the right.

◈ ◈ ◈

Four years before the Battle of Yavin

Infernum by JJasso on Deviantart.jpg Even though its walls and rocky, stalactite-ridden ceiling were miles away from anything Ezra Bridger would ever be able to reach, the city of Byllurun instilled in him a sense of claustrophobia that living on Lothal didn't. It was a lingering uneasiness that he couldn't escape from; like the constant nightmares of the Grand Inquisitor that used to plague him, except without the Dark Side's involvement. It wasn't anything like the open fields and prairies of his home planet, or the vastness of space he traveled with the Spectres or the other rebels, but despite this, it was beautiful. The young Padawan had never seen anything like this before.

Their fight against the Empire was one without an end in sight. It had brought the Spectres here—moreso due to the fact Ahsoka grew worried about the ever present Inquisitor threat than anything—and so she'd assigned them a low-profile monitoring operation on Sullust. It was nothing, really; they acted out of the back of a small cantina and monitored Imperial activity in the city.

With recent advances in technology and the flourishing relationship between SoroSuub Corporation and the Empire, it was important that they planted the seeds of Rebellion early. Soon SoroSuub would take control of the planetary government, and then that would spell doom for the Sullustans. Or worse.

Byllurun.jpgAt least that's what Ahsoka had told them. Ezra trusted her; she was nice and friendly, yet disciplined enough to handle herself. He looked up to her in a way he didn't look up to Kanan, and he knew his master felt similar. Either way Ezra didn't much enjoy living in this sort of subterranean environment, even with as much good as it did. Jedi training and fighting the Empire kept him going though. His friends helped too.
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