It comes as a feeling, a sense of impending dread, just a second before space itself bends and sleek, angular ships emerge from the void. Comms fall silent as the officers on deck clutch their heads, whimpering like children. Those few crew members who have navigated the Far Outer Rim’s meanderous hyperlanes for years pray to their gods or prepare their weapons, remembering the stories about the Dominion’s dull-grey ships. Survivors broken and babbling, left on silent decks. Their quivering forms, the only moving things in a sea of distorted faces and twisted bodies grotesquely affixed to their seats. And the officers alone are left unbound, clawing at their eyes and ears, pawing at the Imperial crest branded into their foreheads.
This is the way of Nightfall. The Imperial doctrine of self-sufficiency and terror that animates the Dominion. A brutal colonization of vital worlds on the galaxy’s edge, engineered by a cadre of Sith warlords in the twilight years of the Eternal Empire’s tyranny, as a way to escape its vigilant grasp. An unconventional way of logistical warfare. Names like Darth Nadir and Darth Kinsa have used this doctrine to carve out a small Sith foothold, reclaiming the Sast system from corrupt Empire-aligned bureaucrats and conquering the prosperous moon of Crassus to guarantee fuel lines that allow it to cast a long shadow on nearby worlds. Tatooine, Hypori, Geonosis and Ryloth all bask in the growing Sith presence, and fear the unnatural predators that stalks the Corellian Run.
But even as the Empire’s monstrous child gorges itself on stolen riches and colonized resources, it faces new challenges. Rebellions, agents of the Republic and megacorporations who all compete for dominance over the resources of the Ferra sub-sector, and its vulnerable neighbours. Its name shall be scorched into the very stars by the time those fools realize that the Empire… cannot be stopped.