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Message: <blockquote data-quote="DralonXitz" data-source="post: 3257340" data-attributes="member: 20083">It is a dark night upon the gleaming metropolis known as Coruscant.  Glistening the night sky with countless tens of thousands of skyscrapers, cars, and beacons, the entire surface is bathed in a maelstrom of colors, hues of white, gold, and pink, all interlaced to create a veritable mist of optical imagery, and sensory stimulation.  Miles above the surface is the impenetrable net of defenses, ships, and checkpoints guarding Imperial Center.  Thousands of spaceships fly in and out, bringing goods, weapons, drugs, and every kind of creation imaginable, legal and not.  The absolute fist of the Empire reigns supreme over the capital of the Empire, the definitive archetype of Imperial strength.    Deep within the sectors of the Administrative District, a few thousand feet below the summits of the official command centers and headquarters of government and capitalism, exists an area known as Sector XI-A.  Quite far from the unknown, and unseen wastes of the forgotten depths of Coruscant, and much better than the ghettoes a few hundred feet below, is a dark, lesser known area, where people visit and pass through, but not on day to day, or openly admitted basis.  Amidst the old shops, apartment buildings, and quaint abandoned building, stretches a long, black marble bridge, gleaming like a diamond amongst the roughest rough.  Stretching to a building only partially viewable, it leads to a very nondescript, black door, very enforced, with no handle or way to open it.  It is here that resides the headquarters of one of the Empire’s most secret organizations, the Veritas Imperius.    Past the necrotic gate and archway, is pure black, unseen foyer.  Clad in onyx floor and ebony staircases, ancient architecture, unseen in many thousands of years adorns the Cathedral, accredited to the design of an ancient Nobleman.  Through the barely lit void, down the cramped hallways, lies a massive wooden door, adorned with an ivory gothic Cross, laid on top of the Imperial Sun, beneath it the motto of the Order, “Pro Verum nostril Imperium”    Finally, as the soul stretches past this door of silent legend, lies the central hall of the Order.  A massive, very anciently adorned chamber, glistened with gold and black ebony walls and a solid onyx floor.  A few massive wooden tables are arranged around the hall, with about 20 individuals in total residing inside.  Clad in pure black robes and cloaks, the symbol of the Order emblazoned upon their chests, burning like a star in the obsidian night.  An air of silence and age permeates the area, as the most devoted and zealous of the Empire study and prepare for their eternal service to their savior, the Emperor.    As the classic scent of knowledge, tradition, and age wallows throughout the massive hall, a mysterious, tall man emerges from a small oak door in the back left corner.  Clad in the same pure black robes, he wears a golden mask over his face, his eyes glowing a deep crimson from the unknown abyss beneath the plate.  With a cold, dreadful hiss, his deep requiem emitted, “Brothers Nostra, Fortinate, Ginoybe and Kran, his eminence the Truthful commands your immediate audience within his chambers.”  Motioning his hand toward the open door he emerged from, he steps aside casually, waiting for the soldiers to enter.</blockquote>

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