In the cold darkness of open space, a ship floats, silently, waiting. Its hull old and missing paint, its guns functioning at minimal. Previously a ship of war, a flagship of the Empire it server, now converted to a generational ship, housing the few remainers of a once mighty empire. In its bridge, the grand daughter of the commander of the ship proudly sits on the chair. This is the last jump they will be able to perform, their fuel is at an all time low, their scout ships never returned and their communications are broken. This is the time. The massive ship jumps to hyperspace, and with its little fuel, makes to their old, desolate home: Thrawns Empire. The ship leaves FTL in orbit of a planet shrouded in mist amd death. The once thriving world consumed by chaos and madness by the Psionic storm of the Hegemony, now waited to be reclaimed. The flew closer to the atmosphere, and closer, and closer. The ship made a rough landing on a large plain on the southern continent. The people make their way out. Its time to recolonize this world, and soon... all others.