Why DO you still call her Graysith, Shayla? While Graysith she is, truly she is Jharmeen Q'utaro, your friend and chosen sister...

...so why do you call one you are so close to by a name that is not representative of her true self?

Shayla refocused her gaze on Jharu. "You're right," she said aloud. "I should be calling her by the name that is true to her, rather than by the name that only denotes her station. For the Universe may come to know Graysith; but I have had the pleasure of coming to know Jharmeen Qu'taro, a true friend...

...and a true sister."

With that she fell silent for a long moment, her eyes soft with unspoken dedication and love. Then she turned her attentions to Jharu's other statements. "And you should know that while the Sith are now 4,000 years into the future that does not change the fact that Roan is Dark Lord of the Warrior clan...at least for now."

Then she turned to Aeylmaar, who seemed to be taking all of this in with great interest. Shayla wondered...

"Do you know anything of the Qu'taro line and of their claim to the Warrior clan?" she queried, falling silent once more and awaiting an answer with keen interest.

--------------------

If the truth were to be told, however, his heart seemed to have leapt into his throat... taking off from its accustomary place behind his sternum to lodge itself there the moment the young Sith had fired back at him in that flash of brief anger.

The lad is a... Q'utaro?

He turned his amber eyes back to Jharu, who was sitting nursing his wounded hand, a somewhat contrite look upon his face for his quick outburst. For a long moment he just stared at him, as though never seeing him before. Then he turned back to Shayla.

"The Q'utaro lineage was a long and respected one, which led our clan through many generations," he said smoothly. "That is, up until the last of the Q'utaros, who was Dark Lord Kel'ren Q'utaro. He was the wisest and the strongest Warrior our peoples had ever seen; he died leaving no heirs, and the inheritence flowed into another lineage, the family Roan. I believe they were cousins."

He turned his head back to the young Jharu, and merely stared at him in silence.

If this boy is a Q'utaro... then who is this Recinis, the one he claims to be his father? Where did he come from... and more importantly, in all those years past, years which flowed by before he himself had been born, or even his father's father....

Where had he been, so obviously hiding from his heritage... and why?

He pulled his musings away from the dark road down which they had been wandering, and focused once again on Jharu's question.

"And as far as why your mother is referred to as Graysith," he stated, reaching for another sip of his wine. He held the glass then, turning it round and round between his long and sensual fingers, as though seeking the answer within the depths of the emerald liquid held within it.

"This is unknown to me," he finished at length. He set his glass down upon the table with a little snick.

"Perhaps it is something only known to your mother... and indeed, possibly to your father as well. For to all the knowledge I have gleaned from my Lord and father, she has only been referred to as the Chosen Daughter of the Sith."

[ 01-11-2003 11:54 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Aeylmaar ]

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SerKe wandred into the back club, sitting quietly at their table, a nod to them all.
He decided that lurking in the room given to him was not prudent...no need to sit there and sulk. He had things he needed to know, so why not know them now? Pouring himself a cup of the brandy, he took along drought, licking his lionine lips lightly at the warmth it provided.

"I am sorry about my behavior before...It was uncalled for...but I have traveled a great distance to find this place...and find my answers."

--------------------

This one says he has come from a far place.... he mused, the knowledge of just where he was at the moment a living entity in his eyes. Then he calmed himself, reining in that brief flame, for his father had not yet deigned to reveal to his peoples yet of the enormity of what had occurred to them.

He bowed his head in apology to SerKe, rising briefly to his feet as he did.

"I am pleased you joined us, good sir," he said, smoothly regaining his seat, but never letting his eyes stray from those gleaming feline ones before him. He waved a hand toward the bartender, and waited as he once more sent another round of drinks to their table.

He then lifted his wine goblet to his lips, letting it pause there while he inhaled the heady bouquet coming from the sultry liquid within it.

"Kri'faxx?" he said at length. "Hmmm... while I am not certain in particular, the name does ring a bell. I believe this name is connected to the Weaponry Clan, who lived on Koris'ian up until... ahhh... recent times.

"But Kri'faxx, Kri'faxx..." he mused, tapping one clawed finger lightly against a fang. "Ahhh... I believe they are linked by marriage to that of the Rean lineage... who currently hold title of Dark Lord of the Weaponry clan."

He fell silent then and took another sip of wine, wondering to himself how on earth this most un-Sithlike personage would have stumbled across that name...

...four thousand years after that line had died and crumbled into dust.

[ 01-12-2003 12:08 AM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Aeylmaar ]

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The sword seemed to call out to the blood of the man joining them, as if in utter recognission...
"He is... As was the creator... Vaguely..."

he heard the voice and was almost shocked from his skin... he'd heard that voice before... did it come from the blade?

He smiled to himself for a moment before turning to Serke and speaking, "as strange as this may sound, and you will probably think im crazy, but... My... Sword say's your related to the one that created it... Ah... The, weapons master?"

his head shook slowly before he spoke, "Im not sure why... But if my sword,err... Elresar say's that your releated... I, Well, From what ive read, its not ordinary for a sword to make claims like this... So i would believe it..."

He then looked to the door suddenly as he felt somethign twinge at his awarness, and no sooner had he looked up, then Ghrr came in from her hunt, taking a side by him, he looked about at all the faces that had just gone white and merly shrugged, "im sorry...ah... She worries..."

he reached down and gave her an approving scratch speaking to her as he knew she could understand his words.
"Thanks for being with me Ghrr, just remember to stay calm though, these people are not used to you... But its ok"

He then looked up, only pausing wierdly as he felt one of Ghrr's face tendrils wrap about his leg, a feeling he had still yet to become accustome to...

he smiled to himself once more, unable to keep his naturaly cheerful way's from spreading to his lips. "I was wondering... Does anyone by anychance want to play a game? im bored... Maybe we can talk while we play?"

he looked about, slowly shaking his head, "Ok, maybe latter..."
While outward he was still happy, and even managed to hold on to that innocent childness that he had become fond of, inwardly he couldnt help but frown to himself...

Cousins? So IM actauly related to him... Oh well... Only by a single strand in a web of many... its ok, Im not like him, I've already discovered, in the end, I have a choice for every different encounter, every different moment in time... Good or evil...

--------------------

First they come forward, four thousand years, saved from the cruel death otherwise imparted to them by the dark jedi. A pause-- what happened to those dark ones? Were they still about? He would have to inquire....

Then the appearance of Her... and Sith, coming to them from the time in which they had ended; would wonders never cease? Kh'lldraan himself must be playing a hand in the state of affairs, for this certainly was an unexpected thing to have occurred, and right on the heels of their great victory.

Now these Sith bring up old lineages, and ties to them. Kri'faxx... and Q'utaro; to think. The son of the Chosen One was a Q'utaro... and he thought his sword was telling him that this stranger was related to Master Rean...

He froze at the creation of his own thought.

The... son of the...

Chosen One?

The table around which they were all seated nearly toppled as he scrambled to his feet, his eyes wide with shock and shame. For a moment he simply stared at Jharu, horrified with how condescendingly he had been treating him. Ghrr growled through her whiskers, hunkering down, a tendril tightening about Jharu's waist now as she tensed, ready to spring into action at a moment's provocation.

Aeylmaar literally trembled, all those seated at the table completely forgotten. He went down on one knee, his hands fisting and laying across his chest to rest on the opposite shoulders. In this stance, he bowed deeply, until his horns scraped the floor.

"My Lord..." he breathed to Jharu, then fell silent, still on one knee, his arms crossed in homage, his horns against the floor, the very picture of subjugation.

[ 01-12-2003 02:04 AM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Aeylmaar ]

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He stood slowly and kneeled down, tapping the sorcerer on his head, "Ah... why did you call me lord? Im just Jharu..."

His head shook slowly and he sat down again, Was this what mom and dad had implied about holding great respect among the people as a dark lord? but... Im not even a dark lord, heck, im not even a warrior yet... oh well...

he looked as the man continued to stay bowing he finaly just stood, and took hold of him, dragging him to his feet, and then forcing him to sit down on a chair, "I dont know why you would want to bow to me... but dont..."

he smiled happily and looked down to sooth Ghrr, assuring her that all was well...

--------------------

He finally straightened and slowly regained his seat. His fangs gnashed the slightest bit as he became uncomfortably aware of the somewhat surprised glances the others were sending his way.

Ignore this, Adept... no, heir to title! he silently admonished himself. How could they all truly understand the depth of the honors being laid out before you this evening?

He started to reach for his wine, but halted when he saw how much his hand was shaking. For a moment he sat there, regaining self control; at length he was able to take up his drink and partake of it. He then set the glass down and turned downcast eyes toward Jharu.

"Very well, if this be thy bidding... I shall treat you in the former manner, my Lo- er, that is, Jharu," he said softly, nodding his horns to the lad in respect. Then he took up his glass once more and finished it in one gigantic gulp, then raised his finger to the bartender for another round.

But he couldn't help slide his eyes to Jharu in utter respect just one last time.

This one bears the right to titlement on his wrist... he is the son of the Chosen One... ahh, how lucky am I, to live in this time, to actually meet this one. For indeed is he bound for greatness, perhaps not just among the Sith, but throughout the entire galaxy as well....

--------------------

He planned it to be a monumental one... and there were certain orders to be implemented.

Which he did.

Now turning away from the trusted aide who had come running to his beck and call, he felt the arms of his Lady coming up from behind to twine about his torso and lay teasingly upon his chest, begging him to return to the blankets they had departed from. He took a hand in one of his, raised it to his lips, and kissed it tenderly.

"All in due time, my dearest love," he murmured, turning to gaze into her eyes once again. "All in good time."

Sometime later....

He stood at the apex of the Temple, gazing down upon the courtyard and streets below. Those pavements thronged with the populace of Phrinnchatka, which spilled over onto side lawns and streets, so great was the number. He had called them here before him, to make his grand announcement; to be sure, not all would actually hear his words. But runners stood ready to carry that news out beyond the perimeter within sight and hearing of him; indeed, into all of K'eel Doba as well.

He let a long moment pass, thrilling in the excited and expectant milling of the crowd below. And when he felt the tension was at its peak, he stepped forward, raised his arms, and began.

"My people," he began in his deep bass thunder. "A great woe has befallen us, a happening of dire proportions that can scarcely be dreamed of... yet from this calamity I have brought forth victory!"

He turned his head, nodding to more aides, who staggered up beside him carrying the Learning Orb taken from the Great Library there. They set it on a hastily erected pedestal; that is, they tried to; it immediately rose a foot in the air and hummed there, quietly awaiting a question.

Ankrist turned to the Globe, a smile darkening upon his fearsome visage. He knew that once the chronotic shield had fallen, the mysteries of the Sith magick had immediately reached out into the universe as this Globe proceeded to follow its own programming, its own destiny within that universe, and that being the sole capture of information for future display. By now, what with the various times that shield had indeed dropped, he knew the Orb was up to date, and now held the additional data of four thousand years of time.

In a low and persuasive voice, Roan began speaking of the Dark Jedi. Of those horrid end times; this was not new to the warrior clan, for in that time they had known a terrible enemy threatened them. Had not they opened their borders to the refugees from Koris'ian? -- although the majority of Sith from that world had chosen the more rural countryside of Khar Delba in which to flee.

Roan continued, and by careful questioning of the Orb showed the terrible End Times of the Sith: of the rampaging Dark Jedi, who came down and slaughtered each and every Sith they encountered, whether man, woman or child. The men had fought valiantly, the warriors beyond even their own estimable honor and abilty... but to no avail. They had not the technology at the time to defend against the Jedi's eerie use of the Force, their swords were slashed and melted by the lightsabers, and fierce energies had blasted down upon the planets like energy bolts from the gods.

Bit by bit the rising toll of bodies told the tale... Roan turned to his audience, a doleful expression on his face, and once more by careful manipulation of his questions told them the rest.

"You know by the scenes shown here that this event has happened... that it is in the past. Indeed, my dear people, in the past it was. For it did happen; you all did die on that faraway day so long ago."

A horrified murmur rippled through the attendant Sith, then the crowd began scrabbling about, questions searing the air. Roan merely smiled, waiting for them to calm, waiting for the moment in which he could continue, relishing every tiny, individual moment in which, one by one, face by face, they turned now to him -- to him -- for answers.

[ 01-12-2003 01:05 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Dark Lord Roan ]

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He continued, adhering to as much truth as he could. He was not so stupid as to try to display blatant falsehoods, which would be easily seen through and dismissed. Indeed, he knew there would be more than one Sith fascinated by his recitation, and who would later seek the Orb for continued answers. So he adhered to the truth... merely omitting parts of it, and by slick and oily persuasion using it to prove the Great Lie which he was subtly weaving into those truths.

He showed himself with Aelvedaar, discussing, planning... then approaching the Crystal Octahedron. The pair stood before it... then the image of Roan disappeared.

"I approached my Brother with the idea that perhaps a way to wring victory from defeat would be found in the future, my people," he explained, then continued. He showed Aelvedaar reaching out through that Octahedron, a cowering Aeylmaar at his side, reaching, seeking... and finally finding.

There in the crystalline depths, a visage swam into view: a woman, pale of face, red of hair. An eerie Glyph flashed into life on her forehead as the Sorcerer's hand reached out to her through the wonder of space and time, and simply touched her. Then that image faded away, to reveal in its place one of the Jedi who finally breached the Inner Sanctum on Phrinnchatka, swarming inexorably in....

First Aeylmaar fell beneath their mysterious, shining blades of light. Then the powerful form of Aelvedaar, who bore an even more mysterious smile on his face.

Roan turned to his people, his face solemn. He waved a clawed hand to the Orb. "Even our mighty warriors, and our wonderful magicks, were to no avail," he moaned quietly. About him the crowd hushed, suddenly realizing the oxymoron of their obvious deaths... as well as the even more obvious fact that they were alive. The turned their faces up to him in expectation, waiting.

The atmosphere was silent as a tomb. Roan continued.

Now he showed the image of the One... explaining her creation, carefully avoiding mention of the All in particular, stating it was a combination of Sith magick and her unique being, reacting to another in her own time, which would begin leading them all down the long road to life once again. The Orb revealed her brief affair with Wicked... how the quiet Glyph now flared into a brilliance to mock the suns in the sky. An image of her bringing Aelvedaar forward...

"Even he did not have the power to save himself," he stated simply, then went on. That image was swiftly followed by one of Wicked dying, being viciously quartered by another enigmatic being, who had seemed to disappear into the shadows after returning to undertake this dire assassination.

"The Strength was ignited, yet the Lock needed a Key..." he intoned.

He shot a series of commanding questions to the Orb; now it showed his initial meeting with Graysith, the Chosen One... the time spent upon the shores of the Corellian sea, their wonderful union there, the one time he had nearly slipped from the grip Kreesha had on his heart... it then sequed smoothly into the Triad, two girls and a boy, standing tall and strong, their obvious Sith blood shown by their horns and claws and fangs, ready to undertake their duty.

"They knew it was at their very own sacrifice, my children..." He broke off with a sob, crying crocodile tears. The Orb then showed a final scene: Graysith confronting him in fury in the Valley of the Dark Lords, all mention and imagery of those with her carefully omitted from the scene.

"Alas, she turned against me, no doubt to seek power over you all if I was successful," he mourned... and followed that terrible scene with one more damning.

The image of Aelvedaar raising that last chronotic shield about his Inner Sanctum, to place himself in self-imposed exile, turning away from his own city even as it was over-run by demons.

"He, who was also in the time I had been sent... he gave up.

"He gave up on you, my people. On the Sith. On his very heritage!

"While it was I..." he waved a clawed hand, now showing the Triad standing before the Eternal Flame. For although the Orb could not normally show anything of the dimensions surrounding reality, with the use of the All he had cunningly opened a tiny link, one to just that Valley and flame, that his children, children born by him of Graysith, were shown as they implemented the magick necessary to bring the Sith back to life.

The Orb quieted down into humming greeny-golden splendor. He nodded to his aides, then turned to face his people.

He raised his arms.

"I have brought you back," his whisper cut the air like a knife. "You have come forth into a new and glorious life, four millennia into the future, all by the deeds I enacted out of love for you, my people."

He quieted momentarily, then asked a final question of the warrior clan and those of the weaponry clan who were here as well in the city of Phrinnchatka. Even as he did, the bejeweled splendor of Coruscant sprang into life in the depths of the Orb, and spreading all about them in eerie holographic dimensionality, that they would know without a doubt his words were true. For no such city-planet had existed in their time, and the Learning Orb did not lie.

"The Weaponry clan did naught; the Sorcerer's clan was weak and abandoned you. Need you any other than the Dark Lord of the Warriors to lead you, my people?"

There was an instant of complete and utter silence, and a slight rush of a collectively indrawn breath. Then the air rang with the roar of the crowd, as the people of Phrinnchatka unanimously chose Ankrist Roan as the true Dark Lord, Leader and Head of State over the Warrior Clan of the Sith, and by proxy in that acceptance, over all the Sith.

For the Warriors were the strongest clan, and they would fight to make certain their Dark Lord would be King.

[ 01-12-2003 01:38 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Dark Lord Roan ]

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At first she had been angered he had children not of her blood... That he had actauly come to seek a human as his mate... but one quiet little fact reminded her, that she had been dead... He had done it all for her to live once more, and had come back to her immidiatly...

She stepped forward then, taking her place by his side, and bringing herself near, placing her head on his shoulder, allowing one of her horns to slide teasingly along his spine...
She looked over at him for a moment, a small smile growing on her features, before she spoke quietly, so none but he would hear her over the assembly of chearing and screaming sith, "A human woman my love? i now see why you held such hunger, having to deal with such a low and worthless creature so you could again hold me... I an pained by your sacrifice my love, i swear i will make you forget this pain that must be within your heart..."

She again smiled sweetly, once more allowing the side of a horn to run along his back affectionatly...
"Tonight will be like no other my love... For you have concieved children not of my blood, and i am second to know human...a true hier must be born, and no other save myself is worthly of baring that child...
mmmmm...no my lord, two children, One girl, and one boy..."

She nodded her head again.
I will not be second to any woman... let alone a human wench, undeserving of even a slap from My lord, let alone the honor of giving birth to his children...

her anger was calmed then though, as her lord placed a hand about her, once more claiming her from all other's to be his and only his...

She smiled and fell into that grasp, actauly wrapping into his flowing robes, to use them to cloth her scarcly covered body...

"We come here as friends and comrades. There is no need for such formalities, unless it is I myself who gives them, for I am but an Adept," she said softly, letting her hand then slip back to its resting place upon her lap, the nodding respectfully to him. Then she fell silent but for a moment, glancing at the ever-faithful Ghrr. She had to wonder if Al'iya was yet roaming in Prinn'chatka somewhere...

...and what of Leev?

Jerking herself back from that momentary drift in thought, a name which Aeylmaar had spoken finally struck a memory; a memory of a day seemingly eons ago on Sullust...

...the day Lord Roan had snatched her, all but killed her, then laid her at the very feet of her Sister, demanding that she be killed.

She'd never understood what had prompted Roan to act this way; she'd just assumed it was simply because she had spoken too much to the one who was questioning her that day...

but now...

Her frown deepened a bit further, but then she let all traces of it vanish. "I have spoken in the past with a...Jedi Master Rean..."

She trailed again, somehow simply knowing that Jedi Master Rean was no Jedi Master at all.

It was no coincidence he was on that planet with Terrin and Galen, with JhinDarra yet unborn...

...and how very well she recalled that he had taken the Claw from her, telling her that she knew not what it was. He WAS the Dark Lord of the Weaponry Clan, Shayla just KNEW it...

...but whatever happened to him?

Something within Shayla niggled as if to prompt concern. "This Rean was the Dark Lord of the Weaponry Clan," she spoke aloud suddenly. "I know because of his knowledge of the Claw of S'slan; not even a Jedi Master would have that kind of knowledge. Has he been brought into this time as well?"

[ 01-12-2003 03:15 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Shayla Stargazer Petrolu ]

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"Even though it was solely to hold you once again in my arms, indeed I pain that your love had to be sullied by the feel of this... this human there instead. I plead apology to you, my love and my Light, for besmirching in so base a manner that great love you have given me, no matter how direly those actions I undertook were necessary."

He turned away from the crowd a moment, and took her in his arms in the full view of all present. The crowd responded by screeching at the top of their lungs, "Our Queen! Our Queen!"

"They pay homage to you, Kreesha," he breathed quietly, basking in the feel of her strong body in his embrace. "As would I now do, in repayment for the blight I have placed upon the honor of our love."

He nodded to his aides, who had been pre-instructed for when this moment would come. The scurried away, quickly to return with the limp bodies of Master Rean and the Kri'faxx family.

Roan turned to the throng, and indicated the last of the Kri'faxx. "Here are those who would assist in our leadership, so easily do they die in the night. Perhaps their strength was not enough to resist being brought forth to this time, so distant from when they were born."

The crowd roared in agreement, spitting and cat-calling. Roan nodded to the aides, who dragged the family to the edge of the Temple's apex, and tossed them over the side like so much garbage. The crowd fell upon them in a slavering heap, and soon nothing was left of their remains save a dark and ichorous splotch on the courtyard below.

Roan now indicated the limp form of Master Rean. "Who is this one to us?" he breathed, inciting the growing blood-thirst of the warriors.

"Naught! He is nothing, a mere speck of dirt to be trodden upon!" they shrieked in return, and with those word falling away from any acceptance or respect toward an entire clan and its Dark Lord.

Roan smiled like a rancor, then nodded again to his aides. They now stepped forward, unsheathing their swords, and in moments the dead Dark Lord was dishonorably de-horned, his sharply elongated canines yanked from his mouth. Roan nodded once more... and the dead Sith was quickly dismembered and flayed, until little remained that was recognizable. The aides then rose from their gory task, holding the skeleton of the once Master Rean in their bloodied arms.

Roan nodded meaningfully to them, then turned a darkly loving gaze to his Warrior Lady. "You shall wear your armlets as we beget our children this Night," he promised her seductively, holding back the kiss he saw she now so greatly desired from him, public be damned.

Instead he drew back from her, and guided her to a stone bench. "And now, my Lady, the piece d' resistance, all for your love and the fact that I had to give mimickry of it to another...."

A final nod, and yet other assistants came forward, this time dragging the struggling Errizal in their grasp. They came to a halt before Lord Roan, who only smiled and turned to the throng. He nodded a horn to the cocky young warrior, who even now was striving not to show how deeply he was frightened.

"This one came up to my Lady in the Night, and had the audacity to... interfere with her in a manner most arrogant. What is the judgment of the Sith?"

He stepped forward, his hands out to either side, feigning democracy, knowing their bloodthirst was fanned by the anger of the seeming betrayal they had just been shown. They didn't let him down."Death!" they screamed, taking it up as a mantra until the air echoed with its ringing cry.

Roan held up a hand; they calmed their cacophany to a duller roar. "The wish of my people shall be obeyed," he said simply... then rounded on the shuddering Errizal. That young warrior cast a pleading look to Kreesha... then firmed, to meet his death like a warrior.

It did not come easy. His own blade lost to the Darker Realms, given that his son could hold off the demonic hordes there long enough that the Twain could implement their magicks, Roan now reached out with the All. From thin air the molecules condensed, rearranging themselves, until in his grasp there materialized a deadly and elegant blade. Its metal was an oily, irridescent black, mirror-bright, and enscribed upon it were runes and glyphs in electric blue and silver. He held it up before the eyes of Errizal that he should behold the instrument of his death; that younger Sith gave forth a final shudder as a single electric current ran up and down the blade, dancing in the St. Elmo's fire of a tesla coil.

Roan's lips curled in a hideous smile. "Our people seek blood, and they desire a show," he whispered to the warrior. "I shall not deny them their desire."

With that he nodded to the aides, who backed the warrior up against a stone wall. With one immaculately placed blow, Roan drove that darkling blade into his throat, the width of the blade perpendicular to the floor, that it entered the flesh in the narrowest possible angle, missing entirely anything so vital as jugular or carotid or trachea or spinal cord. The Sith's eyes widened and he gurgled, as that powerful driving blow pierced through him and pinned him solidly to the wall... painfully wounded, but far from lethally.

Roan smirked, and held his hand out to his Lady. She came to his side, her hand on her own blade.

"He looked upon your bared magnificence, my love," he breathed, then turned and repeated it to the crowd. "He looked upon her!"

They howled... and he responded once again for their sake. Now he nodded to Kreesha, who stepped forward, her blade unsheathing in a silky movement. As did her love, she approached the warrior, and held it up before his eyes. Then, slowly, taking her time, she place the tip of that blade into his sockets, one by one, and gouged out the eyes which had offended her.

She looked down where they lay upon the stones at her feet, the frenzied roar of the crowd in her ears. Then she raised a foot, and stamped upon them. They burst beneath that blow, leaving little splotches there upon the stone.

Bowing to Roan, she returned to her seat. But he was not finished.

"He dared interrupt us with the crass impertinence of foolish words," he mentioned, again cocking an ear to the will of the crowd. Then, his smile growing more hideous, knowing the warrior knew what was coming but could not see his approach, he bided his time. Then he leapt forward, and forced the Sith's jaws apart. Reaching in, he pinioned the tongue between two of his claws, and yanked. The warrior gave an awful moaning gurgle as in a spurt of blood his tongue was torn from his mouth. Roan followed that by yanking out his canines, one at a time, slowly, that it took a bit for them to loosen from the bone which held them in his jaws. These he spit on, and tossed to the floor at his feet.

Finally he reached up... and with his bare hands broke off the warriors horns, one at a time. These were thick and spiralled ones, and gave great resistance to his strength. But he was inspired by the love for his Lady and his own glory; at length they shattered in his grasp, to likewise be discarded upon the stones.

Roan took a step back, his eyes blazing upon the dishonored warrior, who was still alive, still pinned to the wall. "I should let you live like this," he growled. "But I am merciful. You shall die now."

With that he reached out, taking hold of the hilt of his sword, and slowly, bit by bit, he turned the blade. It made a grinding noise as it pivoted in the stone in which it was imbedded; the noise it made inside the warrior's flesh was more of a sickening slurp. His sockets opened reflexively, his bloodied and torn mouth opened in a mumbling groan of pain and terror.

Then, the plane of the width of the blade now parallel to the floor, Roan gave a sideways yank... and halfway cut the warrior's head from his neck. A great spurt of blood burst forth from one severed carotid, from one severed jugular, as the strangling Errizal finally was able to fall to the stones, there to writhe and gasp out his last moments of life.

When he was finally still, Roan went to his body, and gave it a resounding kick. Then he turned to his aides.

"Toss him to my wolves," he whispered, watching then as they picked up the bloodied form and threw him as well over the side into the hungry hands of the Sith.

Roan then strode back to his Lady, covered in gore and blood, and took her roughly in one strong arm, crushing her to him in a passionate embrace, kissing her long and fully, relishing the taste of her before all who were present. Then, still holding her in one arm, he raised the other, holding his dark blade aloft, and listened to the roaring accolades coming into his ears.

[ 01-12-2003 04:21 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Dark Lord Roan ]

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She pulled back whispering, "My lord... that was... Spectacular... Thank you for his life..."

then she quieted, mouthing to him silently, "i night like no other..."

Then suddenly she broke away, walking over so those pressent below could hear her words, "My Lord has returned us from the past... I decree a statue of monolithic proportions shall be raised within the center of this city, something so great, that S'slan himself shall feel honored to have one such as lord Ankrist roan sharing his blood!"

She smiled to herself as the crowd again came to a frenzy, she returned to her lord and returned into his arms, whispering for his ears alone a small explanation, "subjugate the wills of those who serve you, and never can they think for themselves, raise yourself above the status of mortalality, and all will fear your power... This is a gift from me to you... One that will hold our rule steadfast to this land, and its people..."

She then pulled into his lips once more, losing herself in the strength he possessed...

He then took a sip of his drink and turned to erik, "hi... I dont think ive ever met you, Just shayla... My names jharu"

He smiled politly and took another sip of his drink.

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"Well, of course Master Rean has been brought forth with us!" he suddenly said, shaking his head a little bit in amusement. "He and Lord Aelvedaar have just completed a meeting with Lord Roan; my father has only just returned to us from the Warrior's Temple in Phrinnchatka."

He fell silent then, not wishing to state anything further, for he knew it was not yet his place to do so. Instead he just took up his glass, and swallowed a bit more of the wine.

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Then, rummaging in his pilotsuit pocket for something, he at length pulled from it a small stone, its color green with streaks of lighter green and cream throughout as typical of marble. He handed it to Jharu. "Shayla and I picked this up on Azterri," he explained. "It's a marble that came from my home planet of Corellia; it's very expensive to buy so we just picked up a bit of since I was feeling sort of nostalgic at the time.

"I know you haven't gotten to see alot of planets in your young life so far," Erik continued, "And goodness knows I spent many a day on Corellia, looking at buildings constructed of that very marble. If you'd like...

...you can keep it...and maybe someday you'll get to see those marbles for yourself," he finished, leaning back in the comfortable couches upon which they were situated and taking a good, long drink. Then he asked Jharu, "What did you think of the city when you went out to explore? I wouldn't mind seeing some of it myself..."

Beside him, Shayla sat forward a bit, those greeny-blue eyes of hers dancing with interest of their own.

[ 01-12-2003 10:04 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Erik Kartan ]

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"I'm baaack."

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"Aelymaar...have you even bothered to ask my name?"

An almost twisted smile formed upon his lips, his lionine deatures looking ever so pleased. There were few simple pleasures in life, and this was one of them.

"My name, Aelymaar...is SerKe. I took the name of Da'San as it was the name of the only man I knew of as a father figure. But when I was "born", my name was, and still is..."

He almost wanted to burst into a gleeful laughter at this, because it was rare he could bring looks of disbelief in times such as these.

"SerKe Krif'axx."

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"You must excuse me, please, and forgive my abruptness in this," he stated in a low but clear voice. He turned to Jharu, Shayla and Erik, bowing neatly to them.

"Jharu, my Lady, good sir," he said politely, then straightened and turned to the leonine newcomer. For a moment he just pinned his eyes to SerKe's. Then he bowed, briefly, stiffly.

"SerKe," he said laconically, straightening up before the word had finished dropping from his lips. Then he turned on his heel, and exited the club, hurrying through the Dining Hall and into the corridor beyond, and there to make his way as quickly as possible to the chambers of his father in the heart of this great Temple of Khar Delba.

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It was such a simple act of kindness... So simple a gift, yet to the boy who had been forced to view so much hate, so much death, that small stone acted as a tiny pinprick of light, which even as small as it was, could keep him from drowning away with the thoughts that perhaps love did not exist outside of the sheltered family life he had once existed in.

His wide eyed, gaze turned upwards to erik and he couldnt help it as his smile slowly, but surly took in his ears. "thank you so much... I really like it..."

He then nodded in reply to his questions "This place has so much to see, its really great!"

looking down at himself he stood, smiling at Shayla and erik, "im gonna go find somethign to do..."

Then he exited, and found his way to the ship they had arrived in.

reaching his room, he found the robes he had changed from to put on the flightsuit he now wore, and quickly changed into them.

he was again dressed within the extravogent robe it was a white so pure it was as if all darkness simply did not exist in its pressence... Yet at the same time it did... Sketched upon the edges of the sleeves were black, depthless runes, and about his waist was wrapped the most pure form of midnight one could ever hope to encounter.

he gazed at his appearance in the mirror for a moment, seeing his mirror image give him a nod of approval he turned to leave... For he truly did like these cloths better then the flightsuit.
As he exited the ship, he looked down at the stone that was still in his hand.
Such a simple stone, such a simple gift... Yet, even the smallest bit of kindness feels so wonderful after everything i have been forced to see... So much death, its getting to be more then i can bare...

He then found his way back into the temple, and just threw himself onto one of the couches provided there, closing his eyes, but not truly finding rest...

It was strange for the boy, just lieing there... His whole life, as much as he had lived anyway, had been filled with purpose, everyday held a task: training for the mission his parants would give him, seeking out the end of that mission... seeing the death of his uncle, and then of his cousin... Seeing the darkness of his sister... accepting what was to be, yes he had had time to play in between, time to enjoy life. But still there had been a purpose to return to... But now

Now.

Now there was only time, time to do whatever he wanted, time to enjoy life to its fullest. It was then that he clearly realized he did not know what to do, did not know how to live as a child of his age, did not know what he wanted to do...

But then, he was not truly sad with his life either, it was filled with joy, dispite the death's he had seen... But still, it was fine... He simply didnt know what to do now that he had the time...

Little did he realize that it was this that WAS typical of his age... Not knowing, never knowing... Time was of plenty, and there was so little to do...

But he was sure something would come to him soon...

He smiled to himself before standing and finding his way out of the temple, and into a small field outside, drawing his sword, much to his surprise that it did not remain in its sheath, and began practicing, running through things his father had taught him...

At the same time though he thought, allowing his mind to sharpen as much as his sword...

Deep within he examined his inward side, attempting to feel the balance within him... He had found it to a degree yes, but his mother had said the balance was important, and he would learn from her anythign she wished to teach...

And so his blade spun, and his mind twirled, allowing thoughts to come through him, examining and testing the strength of his body, and the strength of his mind all at once, probing now and again into the shadowy realm of his spirit that contained that mysterious power, seeking understanding but doing his best not to overstep his boundries without true need...

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"I think now is a good time to... retire for the evening," she said to him.

Erik merely smiled and nodded in response, standing and taking her up with him. She nodded once to Serke. "Goodnight, Serke," she said politely. Then she turned her greeny-blue eyes up into Erik's, something unspoken passing between them. Erik responded to that something by taking her by the hand and drawing her off with him down the corridors of this now amazingly alive Khar Delba, off to share the evening with each other.

For who knew what might lie ahead when morning arrived.

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while he again brushed his lips against hers, giving himself over to her love, while always pouring his own heart and soul into hers.

as time passed they found themselves just cuddling together in the beautiful clearity that
Jharmeen had brought them... Recinis had his arms wrapped about her, as if to ward away the cold that should be attacking them right now, dispite the air bubble that souronded them.
As he held her tightly, he allowed himself to take in the fragrance of her soft hair, enjoying another one of the simple pleasures that came together to form the woman he loved...
Then slowly, he stood within that icey prism, Drawing her up with him, and pulling her into a warm kiss which threatened to melt away the glimmering ice... And while he held her lips, pouring into her with all his love, he opened a little doorway of his mind, letting free the music held within, the music he had stored for all this time, from the night they had danced upon the sky together, music she had created...
As he pulled away to look at her, using there link to allow her to hear that music once more, he began to dance, losing himself in her pressence all over again.

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"Why...why me? Why was I brought into the universe like this?"

And as his head drifted toward his crossed arms, he silently passed into slumber, that lone tear still shining on ever present upon the table...

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What was once a barren wasteland had been completely transformed. None of the craters that were common on the surface of K'eel Dolba could be seen. Instead, they were replaced by lush vegetation, teeming with wildlife...but it wasn't the fact that K'eel Dolba was no longer a dead planet that disturbed him.

A few days into his meditations, Taehun noticed that he had not been contacted by his master, Lord Roan. Strangely enough, he had felt almost disconnected from one of the only survivors of the Sith race...

But now, there were hundreds, thousands...maybe even millions of Roan's kind wandering about K'eel Dolba.

They had returned.

All of Taehun's rage was set aside for now. The Dark Jedi, in their first great conquest, had killed off the foolish Sith that had given them refuge. To his knowledge, there were very few survivors, if any. Now...there were millions of Sith.

They would want revenge. Were he a Sith, his whole mission in life would've been to avenge the deaths of his friends and family.

Despite his fears...ahh yes, fear. It was an emotion Taehun had not felt in a long time. It was what had eventualy led him to the path of the darkside...That emotion had returned now...and, well, it frightened him.

Despite his fears however, Taehun couldn't help but secretly watch the comings and goings of the Sith. After countless hours of observation, reason finally got the better of him. Taehun silently climbed down form the tree he had been watching from, and tried to sneak around the area. He would have to find a way of this planet...preferably alive.

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