Imperial Calendar - Founding Year (Excerpt from the Archives of the Emperor's Throneworld)
The Founding Year, etched forever into galactic history, marked the end of the Republic's decay and the birth of the Galactic Empire. So corrupted had the Republic become, so infested with greed and ambition, that even its protectors—the revered Jedi Order—could not resist the lure of treachery. The peacekeepers of the galaxy turned against their sworn duty, conspiring in shadow to overthrow the Republic they had sworn to protect.
Their betrayal came to light on the eve of the Clone Wars' conclusion, a revelation that shocked even the staunchest defenders of the Jedi Order. Records would later show the depth of their plot—an attempt to assassinate the Supreme Chancellor, seize control of the Grand Army of the Republic, and replace lawful governance with their self-righteous tyranny. Yet, this treason would not succeed, at least not to its complete fruition, for the Republic, fractured as it was, still possessed a core of unyielding strength.
It began with the march upon the Jedi Temple. The 501st Legion, led by General Anakin Skywalker, ascended the temple steps, their boots echoing like the drums of war. Flanked by Temple Guards—those sworn to the Order yet loyal to the Republic—the clones moved with mechanical precision, their blasters primed, their helmets gleaming under Coruscant's twilight. At their head, Anakin walked with a purpose that none dared question, his shadow long against the fading light.
And as light gave way to the darkness of the night, the Temple itself became a battlefield.
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Before the Jedi Masters could even respond, explosions erupted across the temple grounds. The deafening blasts shook the air, smoke and flame erupting from pre-planned charges set around the perimeter. The temple facade trembled under the assault, ancient stones crumbling under the onslaught. The 501st Legion surged forward with mechanical precision, blasters raised, their boots thundering against the stone stairs in perfect synchronization.
Windu, his face carved in grim determination, ignited his violet lightsaber. Beside him, the three Masters who had stood by him—Kit Fisto, Saesee Tiin, and Agen Kolar—did the same. Their sabers sprang to life with the hum of defiance, their bright blades forming a defensive arc against the advancing clones. Windu's sharp gaze flicked toward Anakin and Ki-Adi-Mundi, standing behind the ranks of clones. Both were unnervingly calm, their postures poised, watching as chaos unfurled. It was clear: neither had any intention of joining the fight.
The Jedi were being pressed backward, step by step. The clones had formed a perimeter, spreading out with precision past the massive pillars lining the temple's grand stairway. They were everywhere, an unrelenting tide of white and blue armor, and the continuous torrent of blaster fire was forcing the Jedi further into the open. There was no cover, no respite. Every deflected bolt took its toll on the Masters, their movements sharp but increasingly fatigued.
"Perimeter secured! Advancing fire lines!" barked a clone commander through his helmet comms.
"Heavy unit inbound!" called a sergeant.
With a groan of heavy servos, a walker emerged at the top of the stairway, climbing into position. The temple's grand entrance loomed ahead of it, an ancient testament to Jedi heritage, and soon to become the last stand of the treasonous Jedi.
"Walker is inbound."
A voice came from the comms.
"Target the temple gates, do not let them retreat inside."
It's cannon swiveled into position. The gunner caught sight of the 4 Jedi masters being forced to retreat at a slow pace in front of his target.
"Mass Driver Cannon Online. Target Acquired. Firing in three… two… one!"
The shot screamed through the air, a burst of blinding energy that slammed into the temple's entrance. The explosion shook the ground beneath their feet, sending debris cascading down in a roaring avalanche of stone and dust. The doorway collapsed, sealing their only retreat route.
"They're cutting us off!" Agen Kolar shouted, sweat streaming down his face as his green blade deflected a shot aimed for his chest.
"Hold the line!" Windu barked. His saber was a blur of motion, reflecting blaster bolts with practiced precision, but his gaze remained locked on the growing threat before him.
They could not hold out, with the temple guard's betrayal, defeat was certain... but they had to break out, at the very least secure and extract the younglings... and the only way for that to happen was to take down the head, Skywalker and Ki Adi Mundi.
"We can't retreat, charge them, focus on Skywalker and Mundi."
Without a word the Jedi Masters rushed forwards, the sudden burst of speed throwing off the Clone's aim.
The speed made them harder targets for the moment, and as the distance between them was not long, they had no time to adjust.
As Windu approached the 10 meter mark a sudden feeling of danger assaulted his senses.
"RETREAT!!!"
As he said it, the front lines of the clones dropped and a row of flame troopers revelead themselves.
The BT X-42 flamers in their hands released streams of fire as the Jedi were forced to retreat, once again into a comfortable range for the clones.
High above, in the shadows of the temple's upper levels, a lone sniper adjusted the sights of his DC-15x rifle. Through his scope, he locked onto his target—Kit Fisto, her blue blade weaving ashedeflected a barrage of fire. The sniper steadied his breathing. The position was high above, the target was moving at snails pace, with its back turned towards him... it was a nigh excellent shot.
One shot.
The bolt whizzed through the chaos, striking true. Kit Fisto gasped, her saber falling from her hand as the shot burned through her chest.hecollapsed to her knees, her eyes wide with pain and disbelief beforehecrumpled to the ground, lifeless.
"Fisto!" Saesee Tiin shouted, his voice raw with fury. His saber lashed out with renewed vigor, deflecting bolts with ferocity. But the clones responded in kind.
"Bring up the rotary cannons!" barked another officer.
Two troopers, clad in heavy armor and lugging Z-6 rotary blasters, stepped forward. The barrels began to spin, the whining hum crescendoing into a deadly roar as the cannons unleashed a devastating spray of fire. The sheer volume of bolts was overwhelming, a crimson storm that even a Jedi couldn't hold back for long.
Agen Kolar faltered, his defenses slipping under the relentless assault. A bolt struck his shoulder, spinning him around, and before he could recover, another slammed into his chest. He staggered, his saber falling from his grasp, before collapsing onto the bloodied stone steps.
Saesee Tiin was the last to fall. His horns gleamed under the firelight as he fought with unyielding determination, his yellow blade a beacon against the darkness. But even he couldn't withstand the combined might of the 501st. A concentrated volley of fire struck him down, his body crumpling beside his fallen comrades.
Windu stood alone now, his expression unreadable but his violet blade unwavering. The barrage of bolts had fallen to a quiet standstill as Anakin smirked at the Jedi Master.
Mace Windu glanced at Anakin, and for a moment he was frozen in place, what had once been a glaring shatterpoint was now gone. Did this mean it could not be stopped anymore... No, how long had it been since the shatterpoint on Skywalker had been absent?
This momentary lapse of surprise and bewilderment diverted his attention, and as he felt hsi death looming, his hands acted faster than his eyes, his lightsaber rising to intercept.
A single shot flew, and it flew screaming, now in front of him, the single shot from the Mass Driver Cannon of the walker and he met it.
The world seemed to hold its breath for a moment, then the impact came, a thunderous explosion that sent a small shockwave rippling outward. Smoke and debris swirled, obscuring the scene for an instant before the haze cleared. Windu was still standing, but barely.
The Jedi Master's right arm was gone, severed at the shoulder in a grotesque display of cauterized flesh. The right side of his face was unrecognizable, marred by the brutal heat and force of the blast. Blood and burnt tissue mixed with the acrid stench of destruction. His once-pristine robes were scorched and tattered.
His lightsaber, the legendary blade that had defended the Republic countless times, lay far behind him, discarded by the force of the explosion. Its familiar hum was silent now, its light extinguished.
Windu fell to his knees, the mighty warrior brought low. Around him, the 501st Legion moved with clinical precision, encircling him like predators closing in on their prey. Their weapons were raised, each clone's stance steady, unwavering, a testament to their relentless training.
"I thi... wha you beome, Sywaer? (Is this what you've become, Skywalker?)" The words were garbled, distorted by the injuries that mangled his jaw and throat. Yet, even through the disfiguration, the weight of his accusation was clear. His tone carried not just sorrow but a deep, aching disappointment—a reflection of betrayal too great to articulate.
Anakin said nothing, his expression unchanging.
As he approached, a flicker of defiance flashed into Windu's eyes.
Anakin smiled, "Echo, procceed."
Windu pulled on the force with all his might, his left arm limp, his hand open as the cylinder of his lightsaber rushed into it from the distance.
Just as it made contact an explosion sounded as Windu's one remaining eyes widened and looked towards the Jedi Council Chamber. It was where the younglings were to be taken in case of an attack.
"You lack conviction." Skywalker's voice interrupted.
With that sentence, he felt his last remaining arm fall to the ground.
"I'll leave you with this. You won't have to worry about the younglings. Their future is secured, brighter and grander than any they could achieve within these walls as hermits."
Windu merely looked up at the night sky, and as the blade approached his neck he saw something, a shatterpoint, so grand in scale it could encompass everything, like a black hole. It was far, but also close, to Coruscant, hiding into the night sky.
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Echo Squad moved with cold precision, their boots making soft, deliberate taps on the stone floor as they reached the sealed doors of the Jedi Council chambers. The thick durasteel-reinforced doors stood as the last barrier between them and the hidden younglings. The squad leader, a grizzled veteran with a jagged scar running across his helmet, raised his hand in a sharp signal.
"Charges set. Breach in ten seconds," came the clipped report from the demolitions expert.
The squad fanned out, taking positions along the walls, weapons trained on the door. The timer ticked down, each second dragging like an eternity before—
BOOM!
The explosion rocked the corridor, sending a shockwave through the surrounding halls. Shrapnel and smoke filled the air as the doors and the roof were torn apart, twisted metal flying inward. The squad stormed in, their blasters raised, sweeping the room in practiced formation. First Squad repelled down from a circling LAAT/i, their black-plated armor glinting in the firelight of the burning temple. They landed with a thud.
Inside, the younglings were huddled together, their wide, fearful eyes reflecting the eerie blue glow of the stun charges on the clones' weapons. Some clutched small training sabers, others merely pressed themselves into the walls, trembling.
The squad leader stepped forward, his voice modulated but firm. "Stand down. We're here to extract you. Comply, and no harm will come to you."
At first, there was silence, broken only by the soft hum of the clones' weapons. But then, a brave youngling—no more than ten years old—stepped forward, his tiny training saber igniting with a snap-hiss.
"You're not here to help us!" he shouted, his voice quivering with both fear and defiance.
Another youngling joined him, then another, their courage swelling as the tension mounted. But courage, in this moment, could only lead to tragedy.
"Stun them," the squad leader ordered, his tone devoid of emotion.
The room erupted into chaos as the younglings charged, their small blades swinging wildly. Blue rings of stun bolts flew through the air, striking the children one by one. Some fell immediately, their bodies convulsing before going limp. Others fought back, managing to shove or strike a few clones. One clone was hurled into a wall with a Force push, his armor cracking on impact, while another was disarmed by a particularly skilled youngling.
The resistance was short-lived. The clones overpowered them, their stun weapons leaving no room for negotiation. Soon, the younglings lay unconscious, their small bodies scattered across the chamber floor.
"Secure the package," the squad leader barked. "Move them to extraction."
Meanwhile, outside the Council chambers, the temple was a warzone.
The main hall was a battleground of unparalleled ferocity. Jedi and Padawans fought with a desperate fervor, their lightsabers flashing like beacons of hope against the relentless tide of clones, and the temple guards. The 501st moved in coordinated squads, their blaster bolts creating a deadly web of crossfire that cut down anyone who stepped into its path.
The temple guards, once the stalwart protectors of the Jedi Temple, now stood against their former allies. Clad in their ceremonial armor, their double-sided electrostaffs crackled with energy as they advanced alongside the clones.
A temple guard swung his staff in a brutal arc, catching a Padawan mid-strike and sending him crashing into a pillar. The guard moved without hesitation, his movements precise and efficient as he plunged the electrified end into the fallen Padawan's chest. Beside him, a clone trooper barked out orders.
"Left flank, clear that alcove! Cover the guard squad!"
Another guard stood shoulder-to-shoulder with a clone trooper, deflecting blaster bolts aimed at their formation. It surprised only for a moment before realizing they were deflected bolts from the Jedi's. With a twirl of his staff, he took down a distracted Jedi Knight, his blow landing with enough force to shatter bone.
"Advance! Push them back!" came the call over the comms as another wave of clones moved in, their boots crunching on the debris-strewn floor.
At the center of the hall, a duel raged. A Jedi Master with a brilliant blue saber faced off against a squad of clones and a temple guard. The Master's movements were a blur, cutting down several troopers with expert precision. But as he leapt to evade a barrage of fire, the guard intercepted him mid-air with a sweeping strike. The Jedi landed hard, disoriented, before a sniper's bolt pierced his chest.
Flame troopers advanced behind the main line, their weapons belching streams of liquid fire. The flames licked across the walls, scorching ancient tapestries and sacred carvings. A Jedi Master attempted to shield a group of Padawans with the Force, creating a shimmering barrier that held for a moment before the overwhelming heat shattered it. The fire engulfed them, their cries of agony echoing through the hall.
Grenades were tossed into alcoves where Jedi attempted to regroup, the explosions sending shockwaves through the temple. Shattered stone and dismembered limbs littered the floor, the once-pristine halls now painted with blood and ash.
The fighting continued, the Jedi's numbers dwindling with each passing minute. Padawans who tried to flee were cut down by well-placed shots. Knights who stood their ground were overwhelmed by the sheer volume of firepower. The temple guards fought with ruthless efficiency, their loyalty to the Empire unshakable. Together with the clones, they turned the tide against even the most skilled Jedi.
The last Jedi fell in the main hall, her violet blade extinguishing as she crumpled to the floor. The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the crackling of flames and the distant hum of LAAT/i transports.
"Clear the hall," came the final order. "Ensure no survivors."
The 501st moved methodically, their helmets hiding any hint of emotion as they stepped over the bodies of the fallen. The temple, once a bastion of hope and peace, now lay in ruins—a testament to the Empire's unyielding might.
And above it all, Anakin Skywalker stood at the top of the grand staircase, his cold eyes surveying the carnage below. At his side, Ki Adi Mundi and two temple guard stood silently, their staffs still sparking with the remnants of battle. They marked the end of a Jedi order that had stood the test of time for nearly 25'000 years.
A.N: Damn, that number surprised me, Apparently the Jedi order has never been properly destroyed like this since its founding, attacked-hell yes, nearly crippled-sure, but this kind of annihilation, never (at least from what i could find). Well, this was long and i hope you all enjoyed it :)