[getting some light voicetesting in between TDMs.]
Arrival
Palpatine is not a stranger to places like this diner; out of the way, run-down ruins can make for useful meeting places where one is not likely to be disturbed or seen by unwanted eyes. But the locations are chosen well in advance and scouted by those he can count upon to be loyal and not ask questions (or quietly disposed of when no longer needed; oh, how the massed armies of clones have been such a boon in that regard). And Palpatine comes of his own will to them.
He is not summoned.
Centuries of planning, decades of his own careful work, the Great Plan at long last on the verge of completion...and the universe spits in his face, and wrenches him away to this...this backwater. There is something else at play, but what it is he cannot yet sense. It's been a long time since he was caught so off-guard; even his recent "kidnapping" by the Separatists was a carefully-constructed pantomime that achieved its necessary goal of removing the late and unlamented Darth Tyranus from the board. Not like this. Not to be so completely upended and himself removed like a common game piece or pazaak card.
It enrages him to have been rendered so powerless.
But he is still Sidious, Dark Lord of the Sith, and he will not allow his anger to control him. Give him strength, yes. Focus him, yes. But not its slave. So none of the fury boiling under the surface shows on the placid expression of the elderly man in the fine red robes staring out the shattered window of this wretched dinner, watching the storm approaching. As the light flickers, his eyes go to the ceiling, then back to the stormclouds. He waits for the distant lightning to flash, and then looks up and sees what he was expecting to see.
"How odd." He says to no one in particular, anyone at all who happens to be listening. "Look, watch the clouds. See?" He points upwards as the lights flash again. "The lights are malfunctioning in sequence with the lightning, aren't they?"
Whatever it signifies is frankly less interesting to Palpatine than who engages him on it. He wishes to take stock of his available game pieces.
Storm Warning/Downpour
Eventually, he ventures outside, but the storm comes on faster than he expected, and he is caught in the rain. The force of it bowls him over in a most undignified way. As he hits the ground, Palpatine feels a sudden, sharp pain in his jaw and his vision suddenly shifts.
Lying on the soaking ground, Palpatine raises a hand to his mouth, feels blood along his gums, and understands why...his teeth have sharpened to fangs. Then he watches his hand glow within his vision. Thermal vision...how interesting. And it makes the approaching beasts easier to see.
They would not pose a threat to him normally; his lightsabers are safely tucked away in his robes, and of course, there is always the power of the Dark Side that is his to command, but that would raise questions, and he cannot be certain that there is no one else he here it is important to keep that information from.
So helplessness it is.
As the birds swoop down upon him, Palpatine raises his arms to guard himself in an apparent panic. "No, please! Don't hurt me!" And with the smallest, most minute of touches with the Force, the harpies are prevented from doing any real damage; a talon does tear his sleeve, but the cut is light. It wouldn't do to be completely unharmed, of course.
He manages to scramble into an abandoned vehicle and crouches in the backseat, an old man (albeit one with fangs and slitted eyes thanks to the downpour) while harpies swoop and scratch at the rusted hulk.
"I think I may be in need of some assistance!" He calls to anyone nearby in the chaos, clutching his wounded arm. "Please? Anyone?"
Storm Shot Once things have calmed down and the danger has (apparently) passed, Palpatine is able to get his arm bandaged. As he steps out of the diner once again, his gaze is drawn upwards as feathers slowly begin to fall from the sky. Reaching up, he carefully takes hold of one as it descends. "Strange. These don't look much like the feathers of those creatures from before, do they?"
Sheev Palpatine | Star Wars: Episode III: Revenge of the Sith
Arrival
Palpatine is not a stranger to places like this diner; out of the way, run-down ruins can make for useful meeting places where one is not likely to be disturbed or seen by unwanted eyes. But the locations are chosen well in advance and scouted by those he can count upon to be loyal and not ask questions (or quietly disposed of when no longer needed; oh, how the massed armies of clones have been such a boon in that regard). And Palpatine comes of his own will to them.
He is not summoned.
Centuries of planning, decades of his own careful work, the Great Plan at long last on the verge of completion...and the universe spits in his face, and wrenches him away to this...this backwater. There is something else at play, but what it is he cannot yet sense. It's been a long time since he was caught so off-guard; even his recent "kidnapping" by the Separatists was a carefully-constructed pantomime that achieved its necessary goal of removing the late and unlamented Darth Tyranus from the board. Not like this. Not to be so completely upended and himself removed like a common game piece or pazaak card.
It enrages him to have been rendered so powerless.
But he is still Sidious, Dark Lord of the Sith, and he will not allow his anger to control him. Give him strength, yes. Focus him, yes. But not its slave. So none of the fury boiling under the surface shows on the placid expression of the elderly man in the fine red robes staring out the shattered window of this wretched dinner, watching the storm approaching. As the light flickers, his eyes go to the ceiling, then back to the stormclouds. He waits for the distant lightning to flash, and then looks up and sees what he was expecting to see.
"How odd." He says to no one in particular, anyone at all who happens to be listening. "Look, watch the clouds. See?" He points upwards as the lights flash again. "The lights are malfunctioning in sequence with the lightning, aren't they?"
Whatever it signifies is frankly less interesting to Palpatine than who engages him on it. He wishes to take stock of his available game pieces.
Storm Warning/Downpour
Eventually, he ventures outside, but the storm comes on faster than he expected, and he is caught in the rain. The force of it bowls him over in a most undignified way. As he hits the ground, Palpatine feels a sudden, sharp pain in his jaw and his vision suddenly shifts.
Lying on the soaking ground, Palpatine raises a hand to his mouth, feels blood along his gums, and understands why...his teeth have sharpened to fangs. Then he watches his hand glow within his vision. Thermal vision...how interesting. And it makes the approaching beasts easier to see.
They would not pose a threat to him normally; his lightsabers are safely tucked away in his robes, and of course, there is always the power of the Dark Side that is his to command, but that would raise questions, and he cannot be certain that there is no one else he here it is important to keep that information from.
So helplessness it is.
As the birds swoop down upon him, Palpatine raises his arms to guard himself in an apparent panic. "No, please! Don't hurt me!" And with the smallest, most minute of touches with the Force, the harpies are prevented from doing any real damage; a talon does tear his sleeve, but the cut is light. It wouldn't do to be completely unharmed, of course.
He manages to scramble into an abandoned vehicle and crouches in the backseat, an old man (albeit one with fangs and slitted eyes thanks to the downpour) while harpies swoop and scratch at the rusted hulk.
"I think I may be in need of some assistance!" He calls to anyone nearby in the chaos, clutching his wounded arm. "Please? Anyone?"
Storm Shot
Once things have calmed down and the danger has (apparently) passed, Palpatine is able to get his arm bandaged. As he steps out of the diner once again, his gaze is drawn upwards as feathers slowly begin to fall from the sky. Reaching up, he carefully takes hold of one as it descends. "Strange. These don't look much like the feathers of those creatures from before, do they?"