A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…
The Light was fading.
The galaxy was mired in civil war, locked in bloody conflict. The Republic teetered on the brink of collapse. Hundreds of systems of planets had formed a alliance known as the Separatists. The Trade Federation, the Banking Clan, The Commerce Guild, the Corporate Alliance, the InterGalactic Banking Clan and so many, many others turned from the Republic that birthed and built them and signed a treaty rooted in greed and lust for power. Of course these worlds would be strong, influential, and above all, wealthy. And using this power, the Separatists created a vast, ruthless droid army. Their leader? Count Dooku, fallen Jedi. Their goal? Total and utter annihilation of the life all loyalists to the Republic, servants and members and states people alike, held dear.
Nightfall was approaching.
For generation upon generation, the Order of the Jedi had defended the Republic. Wielders of the mysterious Force, the Jedi remained unmatched in their power to serve and protect. Whenever a crisis arose, whether it was delicate negotiations, natural disasters, or worlds on the brink of war, the Senate dispatched the Jedi to work their seemingly ceaseless wonders. Upon the joining of the Separatists leaders and the treachery of Count Dooku, however, the peacekeepers transformed into warriors and generals. The Jedi courageously fought on the frontlines, leading the Republic's Clone army into battle after battle.
Shadows were forming.
Of course, in truth, the opposing sides of the iron bar of warfare, the Separatists and the Republic, droid army verses Clones, the good guys and the bad guys- this was all merely a shadow. Symbols, reflecting where the true battle lay.
Darkness was descending.
After a thousand years of watching and waiting, of planning and prowling, of murder and manipulation- the Sith were finally ready to move. To abandon self-imposed exile and seize self-proclaimed power. To take back a bloody, divided galaxy once again. The blood and division were the tools. Separatists and Loyalists, droids and Clones, Jedi and Sith, the pawns. For the Darkness was not just descending.
The Darkness was Here.
For no Separatist nor Loyalist, nor Clone- and especially no Jedi- could ever imagine the iron bar of warfare bound them together, but did not conclude with them. Rather, both end bases drew upward through ranks and regimes, loyalties and commands… until two joined together as one. Sitting at the top of this pyramid of horror lounged the Supreme Chancellor Palpatine, gentle man, humble politician, dedicated servant of the Republic, and friend to all …lesser well known as Dark Lord of the Sith, Darth Sidious.
The Shroud of the Dark Side truly and completely obscured the Light. The countless deaths, the blood, the pain, the sacrifice so many had given for their beloved Republic counted for naught: for the trusted leader of the Republic also lead their enemy. The Jedi fought and bleed and died not for peace and justice: but so their sworn enemy could slowly and steadily gain the power and control to destroy them.
The Sith had all but won. Palpatine had only to wait and watch as the Jedi and the Republic alike slowly destroy themselves defending what they had already lost.
This truly was the Hour of Darkness.
So, what truly sane, sentient being would ever have guessed that the turning point in defeating the malevolent, increasingly oppressive shroud of the Dark Side, the key to the final downfall of the Order of the Sith Lords, the shatterpoint in ending over a thousand years of struggle between Dark and Light…was a cup of jama juice?
