I watch with interest as the door to the reception hall opens and two beings are ushered in by a squad of my troops:

A human and a blue-skinned Ch'iss.

Behind the T-shaped lens of my visor, my brows arch. However, I am careful not to betray whatever emotion I might be feeling at the time; I merely lift my head a little but other than that remain absolutely motionless.

The guards bring the two men to the shining table at whose end I am seated; a flick downward of my eyes, and I see their reflection there upon the tabletop. My lip flickers, once, in the briefest flash of a smile:

That is always such an impressive sight.

Silence rolls by, broken at length by the creak of my armor as I settle more comfortably into the chair in which I am seated. I say nothing, the guards remain as statues with their weapons available but not threatening; all would appear to the casual eye as nothing more than a stalemate...

...or the last move before checkmate.

I have learned many things in my long experience as a bounty hunter, but the first and foremost of them is patience. That and the stark truth that one should never, ever, assume anything about anyone.

Actions so many times speak louder than words, after all....

Interesting, I thought, still holding myself stone still. Throughout the room, however, my troops felt no such compunction; armored hands flew to their weapons, readying them to fire at the slightest mis-move either of these two should make.

I raised one finger, settling them down, like a rider settles a wild and unruly mount. The only error in that analogy, however, was that my troops were far, far from unruly. Simply highly trained, and itching to do their jobs.

To the best of their ability.

Which was considerable, I might add.

I leaned back against my seat, to all outward appearances relaxing; this was not the case, though, as even then my own coiled muscles were quite capable of sending me off on whatever trajectory I desired, to fulfill whatever task I wished.

Too long a time being a hunter, Tarnus, the thought came unbidden to me.

Never trust anybody... anybody.

The image of a short female, eyes mink brown, hair the color of a Tattooine sunset, rose on the heels of that, taunting me once again in the most inappropriate of circumstances. That Galen's image would indeed choose such times to tear into my heart was in itself so entirely representative of her.

This time it laughed in my face the fact of the little matter that I did indeed once trust someone....

I remained stoic, hard as steel, ignoring that thought, focusing instead on the pair before me. Another wave of a gloved hand, and an aide appeared as if by magick, his hands full of a tray which bore the best of what the galaxy had to offer in the way of foodstuffs and wines.

"Refreshment, gentlemen?" I asked, the tone of my voice pleasant enough.

"Let it never be said that Lt. General Sorben Tarnus was remiss in his duties as a host."

I reached for a goblet of Darosian elder-wine, but did not partake of it. Instead I set it down on the table in front of me, and looked over its rim to the two men.

"May I ask what it is that sends you with such urgency to seek out the assistance of someone you do not even know?"

I lifted that goblet in a silent toast to them, and waited.

I turn them into his own pair.

"The misuse of energy, of one's powers, one's abilities, is a transgression you must learn to overcome, my lad."

I nod meaningfully toward the remainder of the food of which he has partaken, which now lays in vanquished crumbs upon his plate.

"I know of your strengths, son; such a display was not necessary for my benefit, nor for the simple act of eating one's dinner."

He fidgets; I let my smile thaw out a bit more, and lay a fatherly hand upon his shoulder.

"While there is much I can deduce about you from your actions, and much I know in general about the Cult Assassins--"

Here I cannot help but wrinkle my nostrils in distaste.

"--indeed, there is much in particular that I do not know of concerning you.

"Tell me of yourself, of how you came to be as and who you are."

He took a long, quiet breath, then began to speak of his story, and the past of which he had only recently recovered.

"As my marking indicate, I am of the blood of the cult of assassins. I was raised and trained in the typical arts, of which once again anyone with your knowledge could have asumed without effort."

"After my training, my parents then shortly disappeared without a noted cause, though I suspect my brothers involvement. Then we ventured the galaxy, "taking in the sights", but even I became restless in time, and in concequence, my brother took me to another of your worlds and cursed my appearence and memories from me."

He took a short breath, and drank from the glass before him, then continued.

"Then, for several years, I wandered the world I had been left on, but then suddenly, seeming in but a few seconds, a society was there. I avoided it, for by that time in my confusion, I was afraid of them....

Then I came upon my previous master, Ragorian. At first, I was afraid that it would only cause me pain and punishment, a foolish thought looking back upon that moment, but then I slowly came to know him well, and in a mutual agreement, I served him, binding a part of his spirit to me, the material connection the shard of his blade."

Rykounagin took another short pause, then once again, continued.

"I ventured to another place under his command, where I encountered Graysith. I ventured back to another place, a ship, with her and her companions, under the guise of being sent by another master, a truth as it was. I swore a false oath to her, then returned with her back to her temple upon the world I had been trapped upon before."

He took a drink, and closed his eyes. Along his journey, this had been what he felt, to be a most important, yet bitter time.

"My master was impatient for my task to be completed, to steal an item of power from Graysith's possession, and he sent out an attack of force upon them, and commanded me to take it. I then fled under a magical guise he had granted upon me, but as my pursuers drew nearer, I made an agreement with the spirit of this item, and allowed myself to be captured."

He continued his recollection slowly, as he began to close upon its end. "I returned to her under a guard, and was removed of my possessions, save the shard fortunantly. The bargain I had made, deemed that I should name you as my master, instead of revealing my own, though I did not know who you were at the time father."

His voice became embittered as he continued his recollection, his voice beginning to quicken.

"Then that witch, one I dispise though it pains me to speak with such hate, cast me into that realm of Elseness, where I was taken from all ability to communicate with any being, where I lay in memories that I now see to be those I would have prefered to leave behind. But then I encountered a sort of anomally in the elseness, a strange thing that reminded me of love in tangible form, though the mere face any such emotion could exist in that place is beyond my comprehension."

He slowed again. "Then I came to your healers, taken by the sith in the area I had come too, and I do believe you know of the rest, my attempt at freedom and my disrespect, that I do regret deeply."

Quietly then, without preamble, I lifted my drink to the bottom of my helmet, the drinking straw allowing me to join this enigmatic person in something that did not quite approach a true toast. I let the moment stretch out a bit, breaking the stillness only once, to lift my finger from my goblet and then set it there again.

A trooper behind the pair nodded his head, turned, and quietly departed.

Gently then, I set my goblet down on the shining table, leaned back, and placed my gloved hands upon the superlative greel wood of which that table was made. Before I said anything, I cast a quick glance to them; from the depths of shimmering darkness a mirrored pair seemed to touch them in turn.

Interesting how reality can be so easily twisted, falsified....

"My friend, I am afraid that it is you who assume too much."

The pair didn't really move, but the sensors in my suit easily picked up the tiny intake of breath each one gulped, the acceleration of their hearts. Likewise they picked up a sudden rush of electrical activity they were putting out; this of course was a simple biological response, their nerves sending messages to their muscles, which I knew sure as Khaandon made little green worrts were now coiling, tensing, readying them to burst into activity.

Which of course would have been extremely foolish, not to mention fatal, on their parts.

So I decided to ease their minds, if only a touch. I lifted my hand from my goblet and raised it a fraction, palm toward them, telling them by that one movement that they were quite safe, and would remain that way if they had the sense not to do anything stupid.

Their electrical activity did not drop, but neither did they move in their seats.

I nodded briefly, then clasped my hands and leaned over them.

"I am extremely curious, my friends, how it is that you have come to know not only of the situation upon the planets below, but your belief that I in turn am in any need of learning anything more about it."

The other...

"There is anger in you, son, much anger. Anger and fear, although you have blocked that fear deep within you.

"Anger is usually self-directed, my boy, but this is a difficult thing to understand. Not understanding this leads one to hate; I see you have much hatred toward this Graysith.

"Why?"

In the short time he had come to hate graysith, it had truely seemed extremely self explainitory.

But now as he sat there, faced with his fathers wisdom, he was suprised, unexpectant of such a returning comment.

"I now see my flaw, my error in judgement. I had worked under a foolish ideal that it made perfect sense, but now, even I must see the true reason behind my hate."

He took a long time before speaking again, the faint sounds of his fathers devouring of his own meal comming to him faintly as he thought.

Finally, he found his voice again, and spoke. "I hate her, dispise her you could say, for hate is a strong emotion that is often to lightly used, because of what she did."

"For several years, I was stuck in solitude, barely alive, barely human. But then I found my master, and I regained that humanity, and was connected."

He was speaking slowly, as though he was still puzzling over his answer. "I was afraid, afraid of loosing the connection I possessed with this humanity, but now that i had lost it, I was terrified."

He paused now, his voice returning to its common neutrality. "I did not know how long I would wait, how long I would exist, or if that connection would ever return."

His voice began to gain power now, growing in his next words. "But now I realize, that though solitude by oneself is comparable to death, a minor fate, an inevitablility. I now see that my hate has no true basis. Though Graysith did not realize it, she taught me a well needed lesson."

He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them, the magick that had coated them reemerging in their pure red color.

"Death is inevitable, to fear it, is foolish. Being separated is inevitable, for it will come and pass. But now, with this newfound realization, I can make my best attempt to remove that emotion of fear, and hate, for I do owe her a great debt."

But--

"Punished you?"

I let the words hang delicately upon the air, as delicately as I now reach out and nibble upon a juicy haunch. One would indeed believe that I, a powerful Sith and Dark Lord, the possessor of such magicks and skills that very few can hope to touch, let alone experience, I who bear upon my head such frightful horns, in my mouth such brutal fangs...

...could ever nibble with so light a touch that not a drop of juice escapes, that not a tendril of the rare meat is wolfed but carefully chewed.

Again, such are the assumptions others make; this is something which I have found to be, in the end, the most useful attribute of all:

For it is by the assumptions of others that true power is really gained.

I lay the haunch upon my plate, take an even more delicate sip of wine. From the corner of my eye I see growing astonishment filling Rykounagin's face; undoubtedly he too has made the error of linking delicacy with weakness.

I smile.

"I do not believe she was attempting to punish you, son. At least not directly."

He pondered his fathers most recent words, and considered them. If one would not consider it punishment, then what would one consider it to be? Disipline, torture, storage? What mere words could you voice to define it then?

He then laughed at himself inwardly, the foolishness of his own assumption. "Perhaps it was a gift, and opportunity she wished to give? Perhaps she knew I could escape that realm, and in that way come to find you in this sense?"

I let the words float from my lips whisper-soft, incongruent to the expression harbored in my eyes, an expression now boring into Rykounagin's pair bringing with it a secret he shall come to need far sooner than he expected.

If one can indeed consider something totally unexpected to be something one expects.

I quietly rise to my feet, take great care to adjust my robes properly, for such respect does this lad deserve. Whether he continues to hold that respect, the future will tell.

"How easy it is to see through one eye, with vision carefully tunneled. False answers come to one with such flawed insight, answers good only for a particular moment, and then useful to one no longer."

I wave a hand; a roiling splotch of non-ness appears next to Rykounagin. He rears back in mingled astonishment and fear and anger; ah yes, I see it coming so well. I wave toward that portal I have made, then tuck my hands into my sleeves and continue.

"Little beings scurry about their little lives in this universe, all concentration on their own peculiar little moments in time. All scurrying along side by side, but not connected, not understanding; all living in one fear or another with themselves, and even more fearful to break out from that muffling miasma which coats their eyes and hearts to truly understand that there is a Bigger Picture, a Grander Scheme, to all that is. Those with wisdom understand that this schism exists, and in striving to understand their place within it can only grow stronger for that struggle.

"But the first step is in truly understanding oneself. Then one can toss the coin and easily guide it to land, not heads or tails, but in delicate balance upon its edge."

I wave meaningfully once more toward that Portal into the Elseness.

"This is not a place from which to escape, my son. It is one through which to travel upon journeys toward oneself, and is departed from when the soul is ready."

One final time I pull my hand from my sleeve and indicate the Portal. Then I place both hands upon the table, carefully retake my seat, and reach for my goblet.

Next to Rykounagin, the Portal into nothingness writhes and beckons.

He let all expression fall from his face, as he reached out a hand slowly, a touched the surface, his fingertip just brushing the endless void.

"Nothing.... and everything... all in one moment." He whispered. He reached his hand in further, then withdrew it, new comprehension in his mind, new knowledge to be explored and exploited.

He turned towards his father. "You are right of course. No matter what I do, I have small impact. Though I might consider flipping this table of some significance, leaving you now the same, it truely means little. We as small beings in the universe make no ripple, though massed together we can create one upon the surface."

He sat down slowly, and slowly poured out some of the liquid from his drink onto the now bare plate. He watched as the liquid moved, rippling, then ceased. "The creation of the universe."

He smiled, then touched the surface lightly, as it rippled. "The events, they bounce off of each other slowly." He touched the surface in several places, watching the water tremble as the small ripples collided.

"In the end though, they fade, and once again join the stream of time. But there is no such thing as time, time doesn't pass, but we do. Here, there is the only power we possess, to try to add to the universe, to change it, to make our pathetic attempt to sculpt it in our way, but to no avail."

As as he spoke, he took small berries, crushing them and watching as their ripples quickly disappeared, the juice becomming a part of the liquid already present. "In the end, we all be come a part of it, and can only hope to have a major effect."

My goblet is replaced with a light and musical ring, as the exquisite Sith metal comes to a purposeful rest upon the table. I reach to Rykounagin, grasp his chin between my clawed fingers, the touch neither light nor vicious, but one meant to imply the urgency my next words will carry.

"Understand this, Rykounagin. It is not we, the pitiful little beings who race hither and yon through the Great Chasm as some bacteria infecting a herd of dewbacks; not we who impact That Which Is.

"That Which Is... is; those with wisdom see this, understand this. The Universe, the All Which Exists, does so to its own rhythms, to its own music; it follows its own course, one laid out before it when it first awakened from the Non-ness from which it sprang."

I pause, drawing in a deep breath and let my hand drop. The boy's eyes remained pinned to mine.

This is good.

"Those with wisdom, who know of themselves, who know who they are and their true place within this All That Is.... only those as such will gain what the others within the Universe see as having great powers, but which those who have learned the correct answer find to be something they have had within them all along.

"It is the life'sblood of existence, my lad. And one must know of oneself, truly know, to taste of it.

"This place..."

I wave toward the writhing portal once more.

He finally managed to wrench his attention away from it, and turned to reguard his father again. "Now I do see." He reached out again, his hand penetrating the nothingness that made the portal.

He went around the other side, and smiled as he could not see his hand. "Would you have me venture into this place, in some form of philosophical training? Or is this yet another test?" He asked, leaving his arm in the portal as he watched his father.

"No, it is not. The weight of your words is to great, for it to be such a simple thing, such a task." He withdrew his arm, and turned to completely face his father.

"What is your next lesson?"

I rise to my feet.

"You are too full of yourself, of your puny abilities, Rykounagin. Until you see both for what they truly are, they will blind you to the reality of All That Is.

"I cannot teach you... not now. And thus, instead of teaching, I set upon you a task.

"How you will deal with it will determine whether or not I have chosen wisely in taking you as my son."

Nodding to him, I wipe my lips delicately, and as I stride from the Dining Hall I let that Portal close with a sizzling snap. Behind me there ensues a short silence; this is followed by the scrape of a chair against stone and then the softest of footfalls as he follows me.

I lead him back to my Inner Sanctum, and go directly to the Great Octahedron. There I stop, wait until he has come up beside me, and place my hand against its cool, crystalline surface.

"Show me the threat to the Sith," I state, fully expecting to see the dangerous image of the Imperial blockade that I know circles our worlds like vultures waiting for their victim to die.

But I am not awarded thus.

To my surprise something unexpected appears, a tiny place which after much thoughtful perusing I finally recognise as being a small village on K'eel Doba. There is one there who I see standing in the middle of their small village centre, one arm upraised as he speaks to the Sith. While I cannot hear what they speak of, I can imagine, if this is what my device chooses to show to me instead of what I had assumed.

My lip curls with amusement at myself.

Never assume, Dark Lord; is this not what you teach?

I point toward the Octahedron.

"Take a Sith fighter, and go to K'eel Doba," I command Rykounagin.

"Seek out this one, dispel what it is he foments, and bring him to me alive, his condition matters not. Just...

"Alive."

He looked up at his father, and dropped his guises in all ways. "I will complete this task, and as you have said, I am to full of myself. Though this may sound as a foolish act of pride, I shall use none of my abilities. I must learn to become independent in that state, though as you have said, I must come to face the small fact that I am only but a small factor."

He breathed, then spoke again. "This task of which you give me, I shall complete." He turned from his father, his shame etched deeply into his thoughts. "If I am to fail in this, for one failure to my own name I have commited, then I cannot return, knowing that my pride has held me too enthralled. But until I pass that doorway, I can only hope I can return."

He walked from the room, and as though some outward force guided him, strode directly to the docking areas, boarded a ship, and began to plot his course, lifting it from its berth to go to his destination.

It has come upon me from nowhere, this strangely out-of-sorts feeling.

At first I do not understand its meaning, for it is unfathomable to me. It is something I have not experienced in my rather unique life; but wait...

There was a time, once, several years in the past, when I felt something close to this, the time She was stricken a near-fatal blow by the beast, the tuk'ata, her Blood-Hunt companion...

And I thought she would die.

There was another time, but death was foiled as well, attacked by the pair she had taken unto her.

This strange feeling is somewhat close to what I felt at those times; it takes me a moment or two longer to recognize it for what it is:

Terror... but not unfounded.

Something has removed the tether, the restraint, the Watchdog I placed within Her being upon that day so long ago when alongside it I placed that kernel of budding All-strength, that she might be guided in its use, that she might find insight in the handling of it.

And that I might watch over her from afar... and provide both praise and punishment where necessary.

But the Beast is suddenly within my own being, back to the loins from which it has sprung.

Now blind anger surges through my being, and I rush to my Inner Sanctum, there to approach the Octahedron, to demand of it, to command that it reveal the one who possesses power greater than mine.

There is no response. Nothing roils within its greeny-golden depths... nothing moves.

I look and I stare and in a strangely disjointed manner I realize that this can mean but one thing, that Time has stopped, that all has come to a halt, yet I move, I think I can see I do not understand there is nothing there, there is no one anywhere yet this is indeed my Inner Sanctum and what is that bite deep within my being, my essence, I can feel it snarling and ripping there.

It is the Beast, and it strikes out in cold, cold fear...

"It's not really important. I've been ah, stuck, down there for a while, and just recently was able to make it off the planet through 'unorthodox means'. But I'm sure you'd have some interest in what goes on down there."

Sa'kal'ishaalas smiled, and took a small drink, hardly a taste, more for effect than thirst. "There are many things, many secrets I'm sure you could benefit from these people, these "sith" who would horde their knowledge and secrets for themselves, depriving all of the others such as us, of what we deserve."

I watched him. "But look at this fleet you possess, with a single stroke, you could take a reward worthy of your efforts here, claim a greater prize than logistical records, and letting your suplies dwindle in this forgotten sector!"

Thoran dropped into a very complex and dark mind. His panic slowed, but turned instead into a deep dread.

Oh no… he thought.

Aelvedaar, he called out in his most groveling voice. Forgive me! This is Thoran, remember me? I was with the Master when you, uh, yeah, never mind. I was trying to protect Shay- I mean, Jharmeen, and I really had no idea that I was jumping into you. Look, this is really just a crazy mix-up, I’m sure, and I’ll happily just jump right out again. But that beast is a nasty thing, and maybe we can have a quick chat first? So, um, got a minute?

Is he aware I’m here? Of course he is, don’t be stupid. So why is he silent? Why hasn’t he splatted my spirit into cerebral dust? Maybe he is contemplating the most satisfying way of ending my existence? Maybe I shocked him into silence? Naw, that can’t be it. I should probably take the silence as a signal that I should speak my peace and get the hell out of his mind.

Thoran stirred his bravery and sallied forth.

“Right, so, first allow me to apologize for this rude interruption. I really didn’t know that the beast in Jharmeen’s head belongs to you. I mean, the others have been hinting at that but I figured ‘what do they know’, but I guess they were right.

“Anyway, I have some news for you, and a proposition. I’ve been travelling a bit with Phalomir and his gang, not really by my choosing, but I figured I could use them to my advantage. I’ve been without substance for a while, you know, since you disposed of the Master, and I would really like to go home. Anyway, we, um, did something, and met with someone who changed my perspective around a bit.

“Look, I know you have this plan for ruling the Sith all by your lonesome, and from what I’ve been learning about Phalomir, I don’t think he would have objected too hard. But something happened back there, and I think he is determined to talk to you. All he keeps saying is that we need to see Aelvedaar.

Dreams are such funny things. Rykounagin's unconcious mind thought. They continue to speak to me, offer me worship and poison me with lies at the same time. What strange entities within them as well. He rolled over in his bunk as a klaxon warned him of the ships arrival.

He was sore, and did not wish to awake as the Klaxon persisted. "Be quiet...." He murmured. "I'm tired... so tired...." He kept his eyes closed, no longer truely asleep, though he wished with all his might he could pretend so.

"I am weak, and I have no comand over it what-so-ever." He sighed, then got up slowly, his eyes still closed. Focus.

He kept his eyes closed, and treid to remember the room, focusing on his memories of it as he did so.

There's a table in the wall to my left, a refresher entrance to my right, and the exist before me. He opened his eyes, only to find he had mixed the table and fresher. It doens't matter. He thought in response to his discovery, slightly angry as he stood up and went to the fresher, quickly splashing water over his face.

He turned afterwards from the fresher, and went down the hallway towards the cockpit, and entered it, looking through the viewport to see dozens and dozens of star destroyers surrrounding his fathers home. His home.

We'll get rid of them someday father and I. He thought angrily. But they have not prohibited us from comming or going yet, perhaps they might prove as a defensive buffer if Sha Rhylla does come to attack. But such thoughts are self centered and foolish for now, I must focus on the present.

These types are all alike, I couldn't help but muse.

So self-assured, full of themselves and the abilities they purportedly have... yet here is yet another of such who has come running to greater strength for assistance.

I had dealt with these types many times in my wild career, a natural consequence of my former lifestyle. I mean, the hits bounty hunters are paid to make are rarely the small, non-assuming types now, are they?

I moved slightly in my seat, aiming the T-shaped lens of my visor directly at the sneering human and his overly-silent buddy.

"Interesting," I continued at length, picking up my drink. I turn to scrutinize it a bit, as though the answers to the mysteries of the Universe were revealed in the rich depths of the liquid held therein.

"Interesting that you believe I would need any help discovering these, ahh-- treasures and technologies...

"Not to mention the fact that you would just happen to be aware of just what those tidbits are and where they would be located."

I slammed the glass down on the table and turned a stony glare on the pair.

"I think there is something else you can offer me... such as answers to the two questions inherent in what I have just said to you."

With that I slap a hidden control with a gloved hand. Immediately a squad of goons materialize behind the pair.

"Take these two to detention, and spare no effort in persuading them in telling you just how it is that they would know things no one in this entire Galaxy should be privy to!"

They slap fisted hands across their chests before snagging the startled pair and after performing a quick strip tease and thorough--

Oh yes. That kind of thorough...

--body check during which various and sundry interesting weapons and devices are revealed, the leader of the squad hauls from his belt pouch a couple crinkly white detention gowns and mishandles them onto my erstwhile "guests."

They are then hustled from my sight; it isn't too long before an intra-ship communique confirms they have been handily incarcerated.

I think a moment, then lean forward.

"See that a Force Cage is implemented about the pair, and please treat them as Level 6 security risks. There has to be something they possess that would justify their waltzing in as they did; somehow I don't think nerves of steel is it."

I hit send, then lean back in my seat for a moment. Getting to my feet I go to a nearby viewscreen; a single verbal command and it obligingly springs to life, revealing the beautiful image of the myriad warships I have intricately laced together in this, the second largest of the blockades I have put into effect.

I don't need assistance with what's going on down there, I think to myself.

There's not strength enough in the entire Galaxy to withstand what could be coming. The blockade is here only because someone is allowing it to remain here, that's a fact.

A brief shudder ripples through me; well do I remember the weirdness I have gone through with Galen over the past years.

No, this is going to take more than brute strength. This is going to take cunning.

And that's where Sorben Tarnus, Lt. General of the "New Empire" schisms with Sorben Tarnus, bounty hunter....

Time recedes to the inconsequential then, and I continue to stare into the viewscreen, watching as yet another bright blip easily slips through our interlaced tractor beams and heads down to land on the planet below.

He sighed as he punctured the upper layers of the atmosphere. "This is almost pathetic, that I failed in something that I vowed.... THAT I VOWED!" He slammed his fist against the bulkhead.

"Don't worry. I'm used to this. But one thing. What did he mean by only we, or I should say you, knows what has happened when no one else does? Does no one really know what is going o out here?" I asked him.

Would his "all knowing" father have a dispatch of sith waiting for him to return in shame, to clasp his wrists in cast steel, to imprison him for his failure? Or mayhaps his father would take pity upon him, to only show him that his failure was another lesson he would learn.

“Ah, right,” he began. “That’s a fair question. Well, as you know, part of my usefulness to you was my ability to, um, jump into other bodies. Even take them over… which I would never even dream of with you, even if I could! No, this was actually a fortuitous mistake. You see, I was under the impression… well, you see, I was helping Shayla… she was healing Gray… I didn’t know that thing inside of Graysith would attack her, and I still needed her… and, well, it turned and came after me after I jumped into Gray, and I had nowhere to run, so I took the shortest escape path, which led me here. I really didn’t believe Phal, that it was you in there. But wow, I guess he was right.”

"Or something at the least..." He paced silently. "I should at least contact my father." He tried to reach out to his father, but knew his father couldn't respond to him in this fashion. At least that's what he suspected as he withdrew his mental hand.

"You were going to K'eel Doba, I believe--?" I prompt, then fall silent, still smiling like the rancor who has just finished lunch.

“As far as I can tell, Phalomir’s only real intention is to take the Dark Lady as his wife and settle down somewhere with a view. I’ve never seen such a change in someone, he used to be so much more decisive, so much more… well, mean. I remember him in the Darker Realms, blowing up imps and shouting obscenities at Roan, heh. He doesn’t even hate you, it’s really strange. From what I can tell, there are two things he loves – the Sith and that little lady, and he’d do anything to protect them. If it were me, I’d talk to him. But it’s you, so you’ll probably be better off killing him.”

Thoran took a deep metaphysical breath.

He had rested, waitied, patiently, yet still his destination seemed to grow no closer. He growled, and grasped the controls, wrenching them to the side to pull him away from his fathers home, dragging it down towards the plains below. "If I am to return home, I must have some worth." He growled, seeing that in his change of course, the ground had begun to rush up towards him.

"How? I could try and burn myself into an oblivion trying to fight myself to death. What is it that these sith prize just next to their skill prowess and honor?" He wondered, thinking back to the warriors and the sorcerers he had seen, moving through the streets of their cities and across the plains with... the tuk'ata!

He smiled. "But how do I harness one? Do I just tame it? I shall see...." He murmured, touching the ship down a dozen kilometers from his fathers home.

The Force Cage burst back into life, and the door opened just enough to allow the pair of Interrogator droids to glide into the cell on their twin magnetic cushions.

Inside, they faced the human and the C'hiss, raising defensive shields as they descended upon them, following a preprogrammed routine intended to weaken both the body and the mind of the pair.

Just beyond physical reach of the longest pair of organic arms the droids paused, chittering as two hypodermics suddenly popped up on each of them. Then they bore down upon Sa'akalishaalas and Dash, disrupting their bodily functions with bolts of electricity which then gave the droids time to inject the pair with an intense, all-species truth serum.

A couple seconds ticked by before a mechanical voice droned out.

Sensors whirred and clacked, taking body readings of the pair. Then a bolt of energy shot out, reducing the unconscious Dash to a state teetering dangerously on Death's door, while yet more serum was pumped into him at the flash of a needle.

Meanwhile, Sa'ak was not being dismissed arbitrarily; now that he had made a bona fide attack upon the droids, his status as prisoner plummeted to something lower than the slime on a space-slug's belly. The droid, preprogrammed for any event, acted accordingly, responding like with like.

No mere torture; that was useless. Instead, twin appendages shot out, each one affixed with a pair of whirling, razor-sharp blades. Before the groggy magician could raise any defense, the droid neatly incapacitated him: one blade slicing through his right upper arm, severing the lower part as if it was butter being sliced by a hot knife.

The other blade, aiming for his face, found a resting spot instead in the wrist of his left arm, which had raised instinctively in protection; a hideous fountain of blood heralded the sickening sound of yet another body part striking the deck.

If the droid had any feelings, it would have been irritated that his second strike had missed its intended mark. To compensate, it let loose another streak of incandescent lightning, a bolt which did hit right where the whirring blade had been aiming:

Smack in the eyes of the prisoner.

The terrible heat caused the aqueous humor in his eyeballs to flash to steam, which in seeking release promptly burst the eyes like a pair of sodden balloons. Another nano-second passed, and the that same awful, searing heat charred the remnants into tiny bits of charcoal and ash... followed by another, downward burst which utterly incinerated the blood-spewing arm and hand along with the pool of blood in which they lay.

Unconcerned, the droid then watched as the mutilated man paled to ghostly white, the burnt sockets in his face giving off a terrible stench as he fell limply to the deck of his cell.

Then the droid sent out a signal, and backed from the cell as the door opened up behind it. Once through, it waited until the door closed and locked securely.

The Force Cage opened long enough to allow it to continue on its way, closing once again in silent security about the unfortunate pair, while the droid went on its way to the brig, to report what had happened in the cell block.

Droids don't knock.

"Come," I said, putting down my data padd and laying my gauntleted hands atop my desk. I had barely the time to settle into command-mode when Landarian burst into the room.

"What are you doing with my ship now, Lt. General?" he said as he approached me, a hint of disapproval sliding through his otherwise respectfully spoken words. He came to attention in front of my desk, looked down at me for a flash of a moment, then seated himself in a nearby chair.

"I understand we have a couple of visitors."

I smiled behind my visor, then removed the helmet altogether so Landarian and I could speak eye-to-eye.

"Your ship is quite safe, Captain," I stated, leaning back and waving a hand to the sideboard hunkered against one bulkhead.

"Just a couple of unexpected guests..."

Landarian acknowledged the offer with a nod of his head, but chose not to indulge at the moment. Instead, he continued on.

"Thank you, Sorben; I am aware of our guests... as I am aware of the fact that one of my most highly technological interrogation droids has been vaporized by one of the prisoners."

Now that little statement erased my smile like mist before sunlight. I frowned, leaning forward, and was beginning to speak when Landarian held up a hand.

"Forgive my intruding into this, Sir, but Relentless is, after all, my ship; I would not be a captain worthy of serving you if I didn't know exactly what occurred when and where aboard her."

He stopped for a respectful moment; I acquiesed to his unspoken request, and settled back in my seat, this time with a goblet in my hand.

"Go on," I said, a touch annoyed about the destruction of the droid, not to mention the fact that Landarian was the one to apprise me of it.

Landarian caught the look; he wasn't captain of a super-star-destroyer flagship strictly due to his good looks, after all.

"A bo'sun was approached by the surviving droid, Sir," he went on to explain. "He contacted me with the details, hence my coming to you asap."

I nodded, taking a sip of my drink. Landarian needed no further urging on my part to continue, however. He went on, fueled by a somewhat volatile mixture of concern, curiosity, and anger, and quickly filled me in on the events that had occurred in the cell block.

Now I frowned in earnest, and set down my drink.

"Interesting that the previously unknown powers of the prisoner were used in so stupid a manner," I commented when he had finished.

"Nothing was attempted in my presence, or at any other time aboard this ship; one would think that with such abilities he might have used another means to evade our interrogation droid..."

I stopped to think a moment, bringing to mind all the nasty canastas I had ever run across in my lengthy -- not to mention highly lucrative -- career as Hunter. All those with dark powers had made no bones about possessing such, and had been quick to use them to boot. In the end, it seemed stealth had been the greatest asset to evade such flamboyancy -- not to mention the abilities of a particular red-head of my acquaintance --; why this user was acting in an atypical manner was something to make me pause.

I shook my head then, and replied to the Captain. He sat there, an irked look upon his stern face.

"It would appear we have our guests under control at this time," I said smoothly. "Your droids are most efficient, after all."

I thought a moment more, inwardly wishing this display of horrific force would cow the prisoner into stating who he was, and why in fact he was here...

Not to mention why in Hell's Seven Circles he knew of the Sith.

Why was he so adamant to keep that knowledge secret? What was happening down on those mysterious worlds?

Landarian cleared his throat, cocking his head and bringing my attention back to the fact that I had stopped in mid-speech. I smiled a brief apology, then reached out and snapped open communications with the detention center.

"Take full Priority Level Red-17 precautions in doing this, but go to Cell Q-297 and remove the Ch'iss prisoner to a cell of his own. Then open a direct link into the cell itself; I wish to send a message to our guest."

A few moments passed before word finally came that my order had been carried out. I sighed a touch in relief, then spoke into the 'phone.

Inside Cell Q-297, a hidden set of speakers suddenly boomed out, repeating a msg over and over and over....

"An interrogation droid is standing by. Our medical staff would be most happy to make repairs upon your body... we have the best the galaxy has to offer aboard our ship; in effect, you can be totally restored.

"Once more, what do you know of the Sith?"

I flipped the link closed, then turned back to the Captain of Relentless.

"What would you suggest, Captain?" I asked, taking another sip of my drink.

He didn't reply but merely smiled; then reached out to finally accept my offer of libation. He raised his goblet in a toast, but I merely nodded my head, not returning that symbolic gesture of success.

At the moment, there really hadn't been any.

I speak softly, as the pain keeps me from speaking to him normally. "Alright, you want knowledge of the sith. My question is, if I tell you what I know, what's going to stop you from throwing me into the trash compactors after you're finished with me? You didn't want to negotiate with me before, so what's going to stop you from betraying me again? And even if you do restore me, how am I not to expect you to keep me here? I'm thinking you better give me some good answers and help before I start telling you my knowledge of the Sith. That's a fair agreement, now isn't it?"

Even as those wickedly whirring, razor-sharp appendages extended, a new command came in, over-riding its programming. The appendages promptly withdrew, and the droid quieted, waiting to accept any more information the prisoner might offer.

Meanwhile, from the myriad, tiny air vents placed around the walls, up near the ceiling, a noxious gas began to flow:

Hydrogen cyanide.

Heavier than the air into which it was flowing, the gas rolled down the walls to the floor, and gradually began filling the chamber in which the mutilated man lay.

The droid finally spoke again, its voice a flat monotone:

"Yours is not to question. Your life is in jeopardy; answer the query immediately."

It quieted again, while in Dash's cell farther down the cell block, another loudspeaker boomed into life.

"State what you know of the Sith, or your companion will die," came the words as instead of being approached by another droid, a communications link between Dash's cell block and Tarnus's ready room was opened, where the Lt. General and Landarian sat awaiting any reply they might receive.

Leave them to me, my friend....

After a moment's pause I flicked a switch, cutting into the comm-link the droid had established. A sharp retort of feedback rushed into the cell; I couldn't help but smile at this newest annoyance being dealt unto the prisoner.

Then I sobered.

"You have had more than enough opportunities to come clean with me, my friend," I purred smoothly into the mike. Static was my only answer; I pressed on.

"Tell me, how is it that you happen to know so much of these worlds, which are nothing more than myth, if that, to others in this galaxy?"

I sat back with that, waiting for an answer. If our little guest had a brain cell operating in his head, he would by now realize that negotiations were completely out of the question.

Meanwhile, along with the static, there came the ominous sound of gas being released into the cell....

You'd better hurry, my friend, and Khaandon help you if you do not choose wisely.

"I know so much about these sith because I was a servant to them. I am part of an ancient cult that, by the tatto's on our body's, are able to access and use the power's that the sith use. While they do control the force, they typically use their inherit magicks, which as you've found out, are not affected by force cages. The thing that you should be worried about however, is their leader, Aelvedaar. He was once my master, and right now is the most powerful sith alive. Four thousand years ago, the Dark Jedi, or the Sith, as you might know them, were beaten back into this sector of space. Aelvedaar, along with the other great leaders, were discovering the useage of a power referred to as the All." I say, realizing that I wouldn't last much longer if the gas wasn't shut off.

Flipping the communications relay again, I leaned into the 'phone.

"There now, that wasn't so difficult now, was it?" I purred, now reaching to disengage another opened switch.

Within cell Q-297 the hydrogen cyanide ceased to flow, although what had already entered into the squalid little room filled it to a depth of nearly three-quarters of a meter.

I could imagine the prisoner as he struggled within, having only his ears and nose to rely upon, trying to keep from falling supine into the deadly gas without use of his arms.

I certainly hoped he was still listening.

"The gas has been shut off-- for now," I went on smoothly before abruptly ending with an crisply barked "request."

"Continue, please, and you shall not be disappointed that you have."

Flipping the comm-link to receive, I settled back to await his reply, casting a short glance as I did so to yet another set of speakers:

Those linked between my ready room and the cell housing the Ch'iss, which remained obstinately silent, patiently waiting to pass along anything his associate might deign to oblige us with.

He then left the room and keyed the control pannels at the exit hatch, leaving the ship without much thought for it's security. After all, it was hard to imagine a sith "thief" taking off with it.

I let the words slip from my lips as I inadvertently muse to myself.

My dear, dear Thoran. It is a far larger picture than you would ever dream....

The realization that I have indeed spoken aloud strikes me, and I let a quick, rueful smile lighten my face. Then I once more gain iron control of myself, even though the memory of that strange period of non-time still whispers irksomely in the corners of my mind.

I turn my attention to the unwilling partner I now carry in my being; going to the Great Crystal Octahedron, I pause before it, contemplating.

Greeny-goldenness roils withing its crystalline depths, beckoning, begging that A Question be given to it.

I lay a clawed hand against the cold crystal.

"Perhaps your use to me is not at an end, Thoran," I whisper to him.

"What you have revealed to me is, while not completely unexpected, of some use. And I have yet more use for you, my friend."

Still smiling, I bid the Octahedron show me the image of my Chosen Daugher, that I may then open a Portal to her and with my strengths allow my puppet to slip into her being. There, along with my watchdog, he shall oversee the ensuing actions -- and intentions -- of them both.

My smile of amusement segues into a frown, one born first of perplexity but then becoming infused with anger.

For the Octahedron has failed. It shows me an image of...

Nothing.

I rear back as new realization strikes. There are, after all, only two places to my knowledge where the powers of this device might not reach; both are not of the dimensions which give the universe its self-concept of being real.

Time ticks on for a space as I ponder this new angle, then a smile begins to soften my frown.

Ahh-- Roan. Or perhaps, one Other. My old, dear friends; what have you been up to...

This brings another thought to mind. Ignoring the respectful, mental clearing of Thoran's throat, I bid my device to show me yet another:

His son.

This time the Octahedron is able to obey. Motes of living realities swirl in a mix of eye-dazzling gold and green, until all at last coalesces and an image forms.

He stands in apparent conversation with Roan's daughter. Behind, a sword is imbedded into the stone of the room they inhabit.

An apparent altercation...

My eyes flash molten as myriad possibilites and truncated plans begin to likewise coalesce. But before I am able to cement them, I am interrupted as an underling bows into my chambers.

"One who claims to be your son waits without the gates, bidding audience, M'lord."

I nod, putting all other thought aside for the moment, letting it gel of its own. For quite often is that the means by which a troublesome problem comes to solution.

"Let him enter, and freely," I state, then wave the apprentice off to attend to his duty.

I turn back to the scene being acted out in the Temple of the Warriors, watchng from afar as the son of my old friend confronts the daughter of my Chosen One.

The Sith? That was a question even I pondered about.

I cleared my throat and answered slowly.

"I Do not know much about the Sith in general. I do know that I was spared by the sith after I was..." I pasued before continued. "Seperated from some friends. The sith nursed me back to health and then I came to be with the guy you saw me with. And now I'm here. Everything else is either a blur or I do not know."

I was silent for a moment before I finished:

"Will you please let us go. We...Or at least I mean you no harm."

All too soon he stepped through the doorway and saw once again the sith who he was comming to trust as one DID trust their own blood. For what else could he call the only one of his family?

I frown to myself, finding this strange. For he has not had time enough to gain the control and maturity which would explain such an attitude.

"You have someting to report."

The words are no mere question, but a strong suggestion that he reply to them. I quiet, waiting to hear of the events he has passed through, to warrant such a perceived change in his appearance.

He still did not look up, keeping his shame in the form it belonged. "I made contact with the acting lady of the warriors, ShaRhylla, Graysith's daughter, and through a course of events I shall keep upon my own blame, I went astray from your goal and waged a private battle against her...."

"...I then was sent to Sullust by her abilities at the All, and commandeered a ship there, to journey here." He paused, letting the short telling of the story go to his father, letting him form his opinions before he continued.

"However, I have learned a few things that I do not believe I would be whole without learning, the lesson that you tried to teach, and that I failed as a student to understand, has become clear to me now. We all have purpose, in the greater picture." He let his head remain bowed, his hair pooling below his head.

Thoran, still perplexed from the lack of orders, or splatting, or anything from Aelvedaar, was even more surprised by this event.

After a carefully carved moment passes, I finally speak.

"Very well, son. You have failed. But--"

I pause, cocking my head and then stepping forth to lay a clawed hand upon his shoulder. I feel a brief tremble race beneath my touch.

"There is a way for you to make amends."

I back away now, and turn to the Octahedron, which yet shows the image of my old friend's son in conversation with the daughter of my Chosen One. I point to the halfling, sensing Rykounagin's quiet approach as he comes to stand next to me in order to see.

"There, upon her belt, do you see? It is the Finger of R'lous; it has come to my attention that you once absconded with this device, taken from the one known as Graysith. Now it hangs at the side of her child."

I turn to Rykounagin, pin him with a carefully studied look. That molten gaze strikes into him, touching a chord deep within him, this I know.

"Return to K'eel Doba, to the Temple of the Warriors. Walk in shadow and with stealth, ignore when anger and rashness rise within you.

"Bring me the Finger of R'lous, and all shall be forgiven, my son."

He looked at the octahedron for a moment. "I also request a mode of faster transportation, that either you can send me there and "retrieve me" or that there is another way to do so without the all. I do not wish to make such a tedious journey by craft again."

I raise my head in a stately manner, then shake it once in negation.

"No, my boy," I reply, folding my hands into the sleeves of my robes.

"I am sorry, but I can only fulfill one of your requests. Sending you directly into the Temple via a Portal through the warp and weft of spacetime, that I can -- and shall -- do. But, the tuk'ata--"

I let my words drift away, recalling the day when I had taken Her out to face her first challenge: to seek and bond as BloodHunt Companion with a wild Korris'ian tuk'ata. That she had done so, and so quickly at that, had truly surprised me at the time.

Now I brush aside those reveries, and continue.

"I cannot assign a tuk'ata to you, for they are not the mere beasts they appear to be. Sentient beings, loyal to the Sith, they choose who it is they shall be bonded with; and do so then for life.

"There are no wild tuk'ata on these world's; for this I shall take you to Korris'ian, where they are plentiful."

Once again I pause, letting my frown steepen. The molten look I pour into his eyes burns.

"I shall not augment or in any manner alter your physicality. I shall instead repair the wounds you bear--"

A quick wave of my hand, and the wonderful power of the All responds, moving atoms, molecules, stitching proteins together to mend his torn flesh. In but a moment, he is whole and hale before me.

I say no more, letting the action finish the sentence I had truncated. Quickly then, that same hand moves again, grasping, wrenching, and in thus a manner takes hold of the very fabric of all that is and rips it asunder.

A Portal pops into view, roiling and whirling like autumn leaves in a brisk wind.

I point to the Portal.

"There is your transportation to K'eel Doba, my lad. How you return when you succeed... well.

"That I shall leave up to your own devices."

Never alone, for I'm a part of the picture, and in that, I'm always supported. For my escape... well the ship that i left behind will do well.

Arcanemel hobbled down the hallway, his legs having given up full function a decade before, they were both braced and laced with duraflex materials to keep him able to support himself.

He was presently watching the interrogation of the human male through his right eye, conveniently linked to the recording units, before he switched to observe the chiss male, noting his physical state, and by the sensors, his slightly offbalance mental state.

Good. He thought as he entered the interrogation control chamber, a single tecnician there. "Leave, and report to general Tarnus that I've arrived to take care of the chiss." The technician stood and left, and Arcanemel took his seat, reflexively keying a few essential tools to interrogation, increasing the degree of lighting in the room by a few units, then lowering the temprature in the cell by a few dozen degrees.

"Uh. Lets see. I was searching for some friends that had gone off to search for somethihng. I don't know what they were searching for. I got separated and Some Sith helped me and Then I ended up here. As for the Sith, I don't really know anything."

I opened my eyes to see no one in the room, but still everything was a blur, though it seemed to be less blurry.

He observed as the droids slid a needle into his left arms vien, patching synthflesh over the place where it entered, a small tube running to the wall, where several injectors could be used to send various syrums to the prisoner. He sent in a small trickle of a painful one, and asked his next question.

"I honestly don't know. They never said of such things to me. They just helped me get of planet cause they wanted me gone probably."

I opened my eyes and was releived to see the room was almost non-blurry. Thats when I realized I wasn't with the other guy anymore. Shkal or whatever his name was. And I also could feel the force around me. I wasn't in the force cage anymore. But the thing was I didn't think that they knew about my force powers, only the other guys powers. I called upon the force and slowly started to ease some of the pain. Little by little to make it look like it was natural.

"One thing I do know, something that you might have guessed, is that the sith do possess extraordinary powers. Aelvedaar is the most powerful of all. Not only does he possess power a hundred fold greater than mine, he also has learned to access the All. I do not know much about the All, but I do know that it allows him to manipulate anyone and everything around him. That means he is capable right now of causing part of you bridge to disolve at almost any time, and killing most of you command crew.

From my observations, the Sith do not know that they are in a new time however, but their technology possess many secrets. The starfighter I came in for instance, has weapons on it that are far more powerful that what the rest of the galaxy uses. I would be glad to help you access this technology, as I orginally hoped, but in my current state I cannot. Is there anything else you specifically want to know? I might not have a full answer however. But I do wish to make an agreement with you, if you are willing."

He turned and went down the small cooridor to report to general Tarnus. Arcanemel entered, and for a second time in his service survayed the general who had been given such an enormous task, and in Arcarnemels' opinion, was flailing at such.

Minutes before, my sith vessel had made the extremely short hyperspace jump between the two sith worlds, and had yet again, passed through the blockade unhindered. Another time... I reminded myself as the self questioning spurred my thoughts again.

"For once I have completed a task correctly..." I murmured, laying back in the seat of the sith vessel as it carved its way through the atmosphere and towards the equator and hence my fathers home. That I share. I reminded myself.

"I intend to stay for a while..." I murmured, realizing for perhaps the past four days I had been on my feet in a state of constant travel. "But I am learning from a great master, and truely cannot complain..." I sighed and looked as the glyphs signalled that the ship was to land soon.

"But why did he want it?" I asked myself as the ship slowed on it's approach to the city. "It's powerful yes, but he's obviously more so...." But then again, who was I to judge my fathers infinite wisdom? I slowly and exhaustedly rose from the seat, realizing how much damage, even with my fathers healing I had endured recently to my own sanity and overall mental fitness.

With a bit of agonizing slowness for my age, for I could only be roughly twenty standard years, I walked down the ramp of the vessel after keying the glyph that opened the ramp, and began to make my way towards my fathers chambers.

Then I saw who it was.

That explains it, I thought to myself, frowning behind the terrifyingly blank visor of my helmet. I set the papers down, laid my palms flat on the table in front of me.

"Yes?" I said, my voice distorted by the vocalizer in the Mandalorian helmet.

"That is all they revealed?" I threw back at him.

"Nothing in regard to why we found them in this space at all? They just seemed to up and appear--

"Blast it! And you call yourself an interrogator!"

I rose to my feet slowly, threateningly, leaned across the table and stared him straight in the face.

"It would behoove you greatly to return to your task, and get me the information I require. These people simply could not have appeared here by pure happenstance; this system is too far out from normal travel or trade routes.

"Get back to work, and do not return to me until you have something more substantial to report!"

Arcanemel moved towards the door. "And I never claimed to be an interrogator. Excruciator is the title. You may ask them all the questions you wish, but it is my job to make sure their only vision is that of pain."

Where did that though come from? He wondered a few moments after the thought passed. I truely must be tired. He walked through the halls, and stopped near his fathers sanctums to examine himself in a bowl of water that served as a minor decoration to a table in one of the long hallways.

He was tired, and the signs showed. After his few days of inattentiveness to his own appearance a line of grizzle had found its way onto his face, dark circles nested under his eyes and his eyelids slouched slightly.

A wraith stepped forth from the shadows and approached Rykounagin.

"Halt, if you would, sir."

The words were respectful, the tone of voice in which they were delivered soft. The shadow seemed then to physically gain form and substance, and came to a halt directly in front of the boy.

"I am sent by your Father; he is aware of your arrival. He bids you follow me to chambers of your own, that you might first rest and later partake of food, so as to refresh and rejuvenate yourself.

"Only then will he speak with you; come, it is this way."

"I have no problems telling you what you need to know, but if something isn't done about this gas in here, I'm going to die, and any information I have will be gone as well...and there is no need for the pain injections either. I'll tell you anything you need to know, with no need for torturing me. Now all I wish is for me to be repaired and continue on my way. All I ask is that I be repaired and I keep the ship I came in so I may continue on my way after I am done giving you whatever it is you want. I can offer you my services as an assassin if you wish, or I can possibly serve you in some other way. Can we reach an agreement before we go farther?"

As a child he had lived in a small dura-steel cell upon his parents ship, as luxury was a sign of weakness and corruption. After that he'd merely lived in caves and upon beds of grass and granite alike. He'd lived in a cell again aboard the ships he'd used in his fathers service, but this was the first time, in his life, he would have a true chamber.

"Amazing..." He murmured, removing the layers of what remained of his armour and such and went to the bath, which was of the same unidentifyable stone the rest of the palace was constructed of.

Rykounagin rose from the bath, the hot water becoming cool as it touched the air, causing his body to sparkle in the odd arteficial light.

He stepped from the bath, removing a small linen towel from a shelf and drying himself slowly and deliberately before folding it and setting it back to dry.

He left the small alcove of the bathchamber and explored the chambers, loving the soft and comfortable feel of the rugs and furs beneath his bare feet, yet another luxury he had never experienced.

He stood there for a moment, then decided to give himself one last moment and fell back upon the rugs, ignoring the minor pain from the stone under it, and rolled lightly upon the pelts, feeling the soft fur run over his bare body for a moment before rising to move to a dresser.

He removed a set of sith apprentice robes from it and donned them, as they were the only clothing within the wardrobe, and noted that they were slightly oversized, he would have to see a tailor.

Rykounagin walked through the halls comfortably, not bothering to wear any form of footwear as he felt the cool stone beneath his feet, ocassionally trodding upon the edge of the robe that dragged slightly, overlarge as it was for him.

He came yet again to his fathers sanctum, and as faced with the entryway made a small bow in thanks to this place, a place that he found could almost be considered holy to him as it was the place that he had truely found someone who loved him as family, who respected him as such.

With those thoughts upon his mind, he stepped forewards, and rapped three times upon the hard surface of the door, hearing the sound echo back towards him and into the chamber beyond.

He glanced around, wondering where it was his father had gone, and for that matter, why he would have done so without informing him.

It gave him greater wonder to the simple question of where he would go. As far as Rykounagin knew, there was no reason for him to have suddenly left with all his worldly possessions.

Perhaps the better question was why.

Could it be that his father had discovered something of great import that requried his immediate attentions? But then why would he have taken everything, and have sent a messanger to lie for him and say he would speak after Rykounagin had rested?

Perhaps what had caught his attention had occured while Rykounagin lay relaxed in his chambers, or perhaps it had merely been a stalling tactic?

But yet again, why would he lie to him, his chosen son?

I strode forewards and spoke commandingly. "Apprentice Sorcerer, you informed me that my father would speak with me after I had rested and the likes. Yet I find when I return that he is not present within his chambers or the likes."

I fixed the with with a glare that hardly contained his inner fury. "An explanation, if you please."

But then I hesitated a moment. "It is unimportant. It is my fathers will that he does things as he must, and hence should not be questioned..."

I mused over my own thoughts, my eyes sliding into a calmer state. "We should do our best to maintain a state of integrity while we stay here in his absense, but we should not lie dormant and hence fall into a downwards slope of...."

Yet again I let my words trail off for a moment. "Have the highest and greatest, second of course to our dark lord, of the sorcerers sent to my chambers."

With that I returned to my chambers, and waited.

It was quite soon that I heard the telltale booms of knocking upon the door. "Enter." I spoke calmly as I lay upon the most comfortable bed;

I watched as the tall and scarlett-fleshed sith entered, his horns like a rams, small but thick with the telltale curve. "Thankyou for comming so quickly."

I paused, observing this sith, then spoke. "I am about to inform you of a great thing. In orbit above, there is a fleet of warships that has effectively blockaded our planet. However, they thus-far have not attempted to meddle in our afairs. Realize also of course that you are forbidden to inform any others of this fact, at penalty of.... well I think you understand."

I let this information sink in before speaking again.

"The blockade in orbit... I wish you too take a craft and extend an invitation to a dining for the commander, extend all courtesy... this evening, at the standard hour of seven."

I rose to almost dreamily walk away towards a mirror upon the wall. "Obviously... have the meal prepared and also-" I let out a small smirk; "-have some properly tailored robes sewn up for me, I'm afraid my proportions do not fit the sith standard."

With that, I left him to acomplish my commanded tasks as I moved back to my bed and merely sat, silent and thoughtful upon the barren floors.

A blockade in orbit? Indeed...!

He straightened, his lips curling and nostrils flaring, clawed hands holding his robes about himself. Then he turned and departed, going down the corridors and back to the task he was in the middle of doing when called upon by the...

Human.

He thought of his Dark Lord, and the young adept, Ayelmaar. Indeed, it was to the latter that this particular Sith owed his alliegance to.

He shook his head and hurried on, utterly dismissing the supercilious young Rykounagin and the wild words he had spoken.

He introduced himself to the sith present, letting them recognize his position before asking calmly where the Sith Sorcerer he had spoken with earlier, having informed him and given him the task.

Ragorian had fallen silent, paying quiet attention as the others spoke and Graysith rested. He found Panthar's information most enlightening. It certainly revealed much, but raised many others for Ragorian to consider and muse over.
One particular tidbit of information, however, had caught Ragorian's attention and held it fast.

The Eye of R'lous. Panthar had said it had transferred he and Phalomir from Panthar's human body (The Sith was, apparently, human as well) and into their Sith ones.

It certainly seemed likely that it could do the very same for Ragorian. That it could provide the power he so desperately coveted to escape his prison.

Ragorian's mind had begun to spark with possibilities, which were somewhat quencehd when Panthar mentioned he had no idea where the Eye was.

Dissappointing, yes, but that little tidbit would certainly be stored away and remembered. Just in case.

As Graysith awoke and took up his blade again, Ragorian again had fallen silent, listening and considering.

Now, after Graysith had spoken to Shayla, had established their link, and had gone through a portal alone, and closed it on the rest of the group, leaving she and he in what he recognized as Aelvedaar's Temple of Sorcerers, he felt a need to speak. To remind her of his presence, if nothing else.

"I admire your trust in Lord Aelvedaar, milady. You two must share a special connection indeed to have forged such an infallible bond."

"However, there is something I must ask. If what you believe is true, and Lord Aelvedaar is being impersonated by some sort of other being, it would seem logical to me that this being would need to be extrmely powerful, enough so to impersonate Lord Aelvedaar's own might. Are we two to face that being alone, if it comes down to a confrontation?"

"Of course, I have no doubt in your great power with the All, milady. And my own abilities with magick are, if I may say so, considerable. And I am prepared to lend all my might to you and fight by your side if need be."

"But our...ah...backup is more than somewhat distant from us. Should we not keep them at a more accessible distance if we require rescue?"

Ragorian paused a moment to gather his thoughts, then continued.

"Nevertheless, I am curious as to our next course. Are we to proceed directly to Aelvedaar's chambers and request an audience? Or shall we attempt to discover the reason behind Aelvedaar's apparent personality change? Such as who..."

"Or, perhaps, what..."

"...Is impersonating him?"

Again Ragorian fell silent, then spoke up a third time as that strange feeling of compassion filled him.

"Regardless of our course of action, milady, know that I am more than ready to offer you my aid in whatever way I can. I promised to aid you in your cause, and I mean to live up to that promise."

At this rate, he commented amusedly to himself, My "insidiously nasty dark sorcerer" reputation shall be completely tarnished before we are through with this adventure.

Considering this possibility, Ragorian realized that it did not seem at all undesireable to him.

She blinked and stared quickly about herself as she tried to remember the time she had spent in this temple with Wicked, seeking to orient her position within it, trying to remember...

She found herself in a rather narrow and quite dismal hallway, low ceilinged and dank-walled. Upon the noisomely chipped and cracked stones of the walls there writhed and moaned a kind of hideous black moss, in some places to a depth of perhaps eight centimeters or so. It rippled and flowed upon its dark roots, seeming to stretch out tendrils here and there as though through senses unknown to her it knew she was present, and was trying to stop her.

Her nose wrinkled in distaste, and her hand flew to the hilt of the Blade at her hip.

"Ragorian, do you recognize this passage?" she asked, for no matter how hard she tried she just couln't bring it to mind. True, before the Sith had returned, during her short tenure here with Darth Wicked, it seemed every wall and door bore this strange moss; that had disappeared when the Sith had returned to their worlds.

But not so here.

Now she coughed, for the moss seemed to be releasing a sort of pollen or spore. Before she could respond to the possible threat, indeed before she even knew it could perhaps even be a threat, the passage had filled with a thick layer of what looked like dust.

It filled her nose, her mouth, making her eyes water, making her cough.

"Ragorian!" she called out again, the inner cry followed by a sneeze as she tried to rid her respiratory passages of the insidious and microscopic invaders.

Black. Not golden.

Good.

He drew himself up, then lowered his gaze in a gesture just shy of true respect.

"Pardon me, my young--"

Human.

"--Lord," he said quietly, keeping his gaze averted from Rykounagin's.

"Matters were pressing, and I was not fully aware of who you are."

Chastising himself for the lie he then straightened, and stared Rykounagin straight in the eye.

"I hoped you would deliver an invitation to a dinner this evening with the lord of the blockade. Now, I am quite sure this will sound.... below you. However, I ask that you pause to consider." He glanced about casually.

"I would normally prefer to delegate this task to a normal servant, however, the information reguarding a certain number of alien ships in orbit causes me to give pause to that idea. I wanted to give this information to someone who I knew could keep this silent, and could keep this in mind. I do trust you will keep this silent, just as my father wishes."

"The.. blockade. In orbit."

The words were stated succinctly, each enunciated clearly and concisely, as though the sorcerer was spitting out a mouthful of watermelon seeds, one at a time.

Clearly he didn't believe one word that Rykounagin was speaking.

"Ahh-- what blockade? My-- lord, there is no blockade in orbit around Khar Delba. Indeed, there are none the galaxy has to offer with the might to withstand us or our rule; seeing as you are next in line to the Lordship--"

Again he paused to cast a quick glance down his nose at the tattoo the young man wore.

He was about to communicate this to Graysith, but stopped when he suddenly realized that the lady was preoccupied by more pressing matters.

The entire passage they were in had suddenly filled with a thick layer of particles that seemed to originate fro mthe moss covering the room. These particles were quickly and efficiently attacking Graysith's respiratory passages, clogging them with startling speed.

It became immediately clear to ragorian that if he did not do something soon, Graysith would suffocate.

And he had no desire to allow that to happen.

Swiftly calling upon his magickal abilities, Ragorian first created an intangible "aura" around Graysith, a sort of filter, with openings large enough to allow oxygen molecules and other essential particles through, but too small for these respiratory invaders.

When the filter was complete, Ragorian swiftly expanded its shape, transforming it from a nearly form-fitting field to a globe that expanded around Graysith nearly five feet in every direction. As an afterthought, he gave the bubble a faint blue tinge, so Graysith would know how much of the air around her was clean.

This protective bubble completed, Ragorian quickly focused his attention on Graysith, or, more specifically, on the particles aleady inside her. With swift, pinpointed strikes of magick, he struck at the largest groups of them, eliminating the biggest groupings. What particles were left inside of Graysith he scattered, so that they no longer formed groups large enough to block any of her respiratory passages, and her body could clean them out as normal.

The danger seemingly averted, Ragorian relaxed his grip on his magick, but did not let it go completely in case it was still needed.

Reaching out to Graysith, he spoke.

"Are you all right, Graysith?" he asked, his voice betraying both his surprise and his concern.

Ragorian's own connction with Graysith answered should have allowed him to moniter her breathing, check for the answer to that question without asking it. But his concern for her had caused him to blurt it out.

He spoke again, calming his voice.

"Milady, I would suggest finding a way out of this room. I can keep up this protection, but it would not seem advisable to stay in this deadly "dust" any longer than necessary."

Ragorian made a quick check of the protective sphere he had put in place, making sure that the filter opening s were indeed the right size. His mind also began considering the emotions he had been feeling as he had constructed it.

There had been surprise at the sudden threat of the dust, concern for Graysith's wellbeing, and fear. Fear of her dying.

Like he had with the boy Rykounagin, Ragorian was forming an attatchment of concern with Lady Graysith, his latest weilder. Concern for her wishes and wellbeing, her hopes and dreams. Gone, it seemed, were the days when he would just leap into a perosn's mind, take them over, and use them how he saw fit to achieve his own ends.

It was, Ragorian decided, a change for the better.

It would be easy to tell him that they were "outmatched", but somehow it seemed that it would be... awkward. Knowledge was power after all, and this knowledge, perhaps a bit too much of. It would be easy to just leave him in the dark, but that could raise discent and could possibly undermine other things. For that matter, those in orbit might tell this sith things that he needed not too know.

"Perhaps it is better that you see it with your own eyes. Suffice to say that there is a faction that has, crept up on us, and now has made an attempt to "ensnare us". It is a foolish attempt, but convenient, as it keeps any others from attempting to bother us, you see? Recently there have been offworld masses of beings who do not respect us as they should, who are even now, trying to carve their own empires."

He paused. "The faction above us at this moment, calls themselves "The Imperials", and are predominantly a military organisation. They, as I have told you, wish to ensnare us. However, if possible, it would be favorable to bring them back under our sway, rather then be forced to destroy them, and waste time and resources you see?"

A corridor now bathed with a soft aura of blue light. A light which melded with the equally soft violet glow of her Glyph, making the air about her turn into a dusky shade of cornflower.

"Th-thank you, my friend," she wheezed, letting out a final sneeze as she climbed somewhat shakily to her feet. A stab of worry shot through her to think how close she had come to suffocation.

Indeed, that eerie moss had infiltrated her respiratory tract before she could use the All in defense... before she even thought to use it.

How could that be? The Sith of 4,000 years in the past knew not of how to use the All. How could this have happened to her?

She forced a rising shudder down and gripped the Blade even more tightly, stared about herself before finally answering him.

"I do not recognize this corridor, although I know we are somewhere inside the Temple of the Sorcerers. Somewhere deep within the bowels of this place lies Lord Aelvedaar's Inner Sanctum; I cannot place my bearings now, however, for comparison.

"We shall simply have to walk."

With that she moved on down the otherwise featureless corridor, taking great care to avoid brushing against the noxious moss which yet seemed to stretch tendrils out as though trying to grasp her. At length she came to a tiny corridor, which branched off to the left, winding away into the gloom.

Shrugging to herself she turned that way and continued on. Time passed with her footsteps, during which the passage grew even more narrow and -- blessedly enough -- dry. At times it curved to one side or another, at others it ended in steps going up or down. On and on she went, following that passage, while deep within her bones a strange sense of familiarity began to grow.

The Beast within seemed to whine in expectation.

At length the corridor came to a halt. It ended at a large, ornately carved and bejeweled door. Names and ranks in High Sith were emblazoned upon it; down at the bottom, in simple defiance against wanton waste was the single name, "Wicked."

A thrill raced through her as memories crashed down upon her head, the hand she reached out with shook as it came in contact with the smooth, oily wood.

The door creaked open with surprising ease, considering its age.

It was just as she remembered: the great bed, the furs, the silks and satins, the heavy draperies, on the nightstand his jeweled wristlets.

It was as if the clock had turned back, and she was again at his door beside Nikk...

She gasped, yanked herself out of the room, whirled and placed her back against the door which grinned at her back.

"Ragorian," she gasped at length, struggling to keep her mind clear.

"Do you know of this chamber? Can you guide me now to the Inner Sanctum of this Temple? For it is there that I shall find Lord Aelvedaar; I cannot recall the way..."

Straightening, he entered the ready room and approached the gleaming greel-wood desk which commanded center stage, even though it was positioned against the far bulkhead. It's shining immensity was only enhanced by the sight of the starfield behind it, which announced its presence through the extravagantly large ports hunkering there on the bulkhead. The light from the distant stars reflected from the highly polished wood, limning a single figure who commanded as much presence as did the entire image of desk-and-viewports-and-universe.

In many ways, more so.

The courier stiffened, saluted, and stuck out his hand. A missive fluttered there like a banner calling to war.

"Sir, the Interrogator sends information," he said sharply, snapping off each word with the Empire's usual military precision.

"And more-- long range scanners show activity from this system's sister world. It would appear that a ship is departing; if it follows its current trajectory, it will come into our space in approximately 38 hours."

It seemed impossible to do so, but he managed to stiffen to an even rockier attention, one hand holding the paper out to Tarnus, the other holding a salute at the bill of his cap.

Before him, an enigmatic T-lens seemed to eye him balefully, before a gloved hand reached out and retrieved the missive. The other gloved hand returned the salute, almost desultorily, the attention of the Mandalorian armor-clad general now focused on the information he had just received.

The lens found its way to him again.

Release the prisoner from the cell, and remove him to the nearest medical bay. There full repairs are to be put into effect. See to his well-being and comfort; he is to know that while we are not to be taken lightly, we are not complete monsters.

Inform me when he has healed.

~Lt. General Sorben Tarnus

I cast a quick glance over the command missive before folding and sealing it. Rising to my feet, I placed it in the already outstretched hand of the courier, who saluted smartly, turned, and left. I turned then as well, moving to stand in front of the viewports which where behind my desk.

The stars didn't seem to be telling me much today. Just like most; try as hard as I might, I could never find the answer to the one question which, if the truth were known, governed more and more of my personal views concerning this blockade we had placed here.

Yes-- it was crucial for the growing order to know what was happening upon those mysterious worlds. It was crucial that when the time came for the untold trillions of beings in this galaxy to be informed of the most momentous occasion to interfere in their lives to date, that they were not being left in the shallow end of the pool. That the Empire was and would still be in control, that order would be mantained.

That peace would reign.

But of greater importance to me was the fact that I knew, down to the nucleus of every cell in my body, down to the very heart of each atom...

I knew that my baby girl was down there.

Somewhere.

I was going to find her, and Khaandon help whoever or whatever tried to get in my way.

It was delightful.

I nodded toward him, was about to give him leave to speak when my eyes widened behind the black enigma of my helmet's lens. Behind the Interrogator stood the familiar figure of Landarian, who had an extremely dark look upon his face.

"One moment if you will, good sir," I said to the Interrogator, pushing him from my ready room with a wave of my hand. A look something like startlement crossed his face, but he backed off, allowing the Captain of Relentless to enter in his stead.

The hatchway whooshed shut, enclosing us to the view of the stellar field behind me. The good captain, as usual, wasted no time.

"You know of the ship that had come from the sister planet's surface--"

The words were not a question, merely a statement of fact. Nevertheless, I nodded.

"It has disappeared. Right under our noses. Sensors can't find anything."

I froze at that.

Why, the little vixen! So she's managed to find another fighter--!

Of course I knew full well what was going on. Hadn't I been with Galen, time and time again, aboard that fantastic little ship? Wasn't I with her in the dismal lair of Gravin Dark, when she found the Sith belt bearing the invisibility device? Hadn't she and I used it together more than once in our adventures together?

I shook myself from the brief reverie.

"Fear not, my friend. The situation, believe it or not, is well in hand."

I paused a moment, one gloved hand rising to my chin while I thought.

"We are going to appear to be undergoing a sudden, partial systems failure," I announced, quite out of the blue.

"A certain few strategically placed tractor beams are going to blink out of commission, say for about... 15 seconds."

Fifteen seconds. An eternity. If they couldn't sneak through in that time, then they deserved to be captured.

A promise, no matter by what it is driven, is a promise, after all....

Landarian stiffened, acquiesing to shock at this unusual order.

"Let them go," I whispered, nodding to punctuate the words.

"They'll be back..."

Landarian's momentary gaffe dissolved before a fresh wave of military professionalism. He straightened, nodded, saluted, and departed.

I slapped the control that guided the door, preventing it from closing fully in his wake. There, framed in the outline, stood the Interrogator, undoubtedly wondering what in Hell's Seven Circles was going on.

"Come in," I said simply, then turned back to study the starfield once again.

Father, where have you gone? He wondered, looking at the still open door of the chambers, and stepping inside. It was as though everything had vanished, with no sudden explanation. No footsteps in the thin dust to suggest it had been carried, no appearance of damage at all, aside from the fact that it was indeed, simply gone.

"Why would you abandon us all?" He queried to the open air. "No you wouldn't... this is merely a mechanation of your plan, to bring balance, order, the thing that the galaxy truely needs for the greater picture..."

He paused, observing the general, that ceaseless question in his mind asking what the man looked like. "I would like to note that the-" There was a blink upon the Generals desk from one of the data-pads there, the quick code dotted out was quite obvious, even from my distance.

"So it would appear," I agreed as I calmly reached out to disengage the signal. The little blip immediately faded from view as I turned to the Interrogator.

"I'm certain the Captain has things well in hand; now, as you were saying?"

He snorted as the little ship fled from Choyapenthe, zooming effortless along an impossibly steep trajectory which in the case of more "normal" ships would have sent them, gasping and choking, back to the ground from which they came. But Sith ships are far from those of a mundane ilk; built more like a plane, it behaved like a rocket. Even then it scoffed at the more sane approach of letting the planet's rotational spin assist in its departure; it simply flew up.

The sorcerer didn't have long to fume before the slight bumps and jiggles produced by the steadily thinning atmosphere lessened and finally ceased, announcing his release into clear space.

He sighed, pursed his lips in thought. Every instinct told him the boy was crazy: there was no blockade, goodness no, for who had the might to oppose the Sith? Hadn't they ruled the galaxy for hundreds of years, bringing peace and prosperity to its inhabitants? What crazed individual or individuals would even harbor a notion of trying to stand up to them?

Why look a gift horse in the mouth?

He thought some more, thinking along the lines of orbiting the planet a time or two before returning to the rash young Rykounagin, there to reveal that his "generous offer" had been "graciously denied."

But something made him reach out to open a viewport instead....

He gasped, shrinking involuntarily back against his seat.

What was this? Where had this massive number of ships come from... and the ships themselves! Oh, the ships were immense, sleek and deathly, held together by an intricate weavery of energy beams.

Who were these people? Where had they come from?

Another thought struck him: was he but a fly against such apparent power and strength? A fly most easily swatted?

Do giants eat with flies?

His hand trembled with indecision.

How dared he approach those ships...? But then, how dare he not. For the youth, albeit human as he was, did bear the Tattoo of Entitlement upon his wrist. That did afford him respect for his wishes, even though in the case of this particular sorcerer it was an insincere one.

He sat in a quiet dither, wondering as to his best move in what appeared to be a suddenly dire predicament. Then it came to him; his fingers danced a tarantelle upon the boards in front of him, sending out communication in all directions, almost willy-nilly, at all frequencies for he hadn't a clue as to which one the giant ships might capture.

"Your Lordship is invited to dine..." the words blatted out for all the galaxy to hear, repeated twice, thrice, then shut off.

Then, appearances be damned, the Sith grasped the controls and turned the little ship head-over-hiney, heading now toward another continent where his family's summer home was.

He quirked his brows, looked toward the Interrogator, then handed me a missive. I frowned at the weird look on his face...

...and the frown only became deeper when I read this latest bulletin he had brought.

His Lordship? Invited to dine?

With the Sith?!

Curiouser and curiouser...

I looked up at Landarian, whose face bore an expression somewhere between amusement and consternation.

"Anything more specific than that?" I asked, knowing the Interrogator was probably all ears by this time, but knowing as well that he couldn't gain anything from the words I spoke. I know my Captain; his reply was equally tacit.

"It would appear a place befitting your station, Sir," he said, working his mouth to keep the grin which wanted to burst forth from doing so.

I shook my head slightly, eyeballed the missive again.

His Lordship?

He cleared his thoughts. "Is it that the prisoner should be further treated as a guest under guard or as a common prisoner reguardless?" However, his mind was quickly distracted.

But then another thought struck me, one which rolled that budding mirth into a tiny little wad and flicked it away with a snap of its fingers.

I frowned behind my mask, lifted a hand to stay Landarian, and turned to the Interrogator.

"The former prisoner is to be afforded every facility and amenity this ship has to offer, other than those open to authorized personnel only. He is to be healed, catered to, wined and dined if you will. He is not, and I repeat not to be treated in any way, shape or form as a prisoner under guard.

"He will be given a true honor guard--"

Indeed, if he knew the answers to some of the questions that were beginning to float about in my head, that guard might end up being more than honorary, as far as he was concerned.

"--and treated with every respect. And when he is able to receive visitors, let me know."

I waited for the Interrogator to bow and depart before I turned back to Landarian.

"Doesn't it strike you as strange that the people of a world who have only just returned to this time know we are here?" I asked him, even as I moved to once more stare out the viewport at the immensity of eternity, my hands clasped behind my back. I remained thus for a moment or two longer, then turned back.

"Let the invitation go unanswered," I ordered, moving to my desk where I took a seat.

Before me, Landarian nodded, saluted and left, the door whooshing closed behind him to leave me alone with my thoughts.

It was not long before he realized that he did not. His knowledge of the temple was extremely limited.

He was about to relay this to Graysith when something else, something within his own mind, caught his attention. Focusing upon it, he realized his mind was telling him it had sensed something. A familiar presence.

It was Rykounagin. The boy was in this temple, and not very far away.

Apparently, the powerful bond they had formed was still intact. Even though they had not had contact for some time, Ragorian could still sense where Rykounagin was.

And it stood to reason that since Rykouangin was now Aelvedaar's "Chosen Son," or whatever it was he had said, he would probably be with the Dark Lord in his inner sanctum.

Again, Ragorian was about to tell Graysith
of this, but he stopped himself suddenly, thinking hard.

If I tell her I can sense Rykounagin's presence...would she not ask how that is? After all, she does not know we were once allies...

And if she were to ask how we came ot have this bond, that could lead down a potentially nasty road of questioning...

...That could end with her finding out that it was I who attacked her and forced Rykounagin to steal the Axis.

And that would most certainly not be good for building trust between us.

Ragorian felt a certain amount of disquiet at deciding to lie to Graysith, but attempted to quash it. When that did not work, he spoke reassuringly to himself.

I will, of course, tell her eventually, he reasoned. But we are in them iddle of a potentially dangerous situation. Now is not the time.

He had a hard time believing his own words, though.

Finally, he spoke to Graysith.

"I...I believe I do know the way, at least vaguely, milady," he said, shame rising in him as he spoke.
"I believe it is this way..."

And he focused on the link with Rykounagin, leading her down the passageways towards the young lad's presence.

He sincerely hoped they would reach areas he, or Graysith, truly recognized before they met the lad...or the truth would come out anyways.

I did the right thing in not telling her! he insisted forcefully to his own conscience. Now is not the time!

His conscience, however, was having none of it. It chuckled amusedly.

Thus she felt Ragorian's brief stab of shame... but did not recognize it for what it was.

Holding the Sword, she retreated on cat's feet back the way she had come, until she came to where the tiny corridor had split off from the larger, moss-ridden one. She hesitated at the confluence the barest of moments; then, following another incorporeal urge she went off in the other direction, away from the dimness and the writhing parasitic plants.

A sense of foreboding seemed to shadow her as she moved along, swiftly but silently. Bit by bit the corridor darkened, tha wall sconces which yet held feebly flickering candles growing fewer and farther in between.

She came to an intersection, turned left.

Now, without having any real reason as to why she should believe it to be so, she knew she was descending. The corridor yet remained straight and flat, there were no stairs. Yet some strange, inner sense told her that they were steadily moving down.

"I believe you may be correct, Ragorian," she dared to breathe quietly into the increasing gloom.

"We are descending deeper... I believe Lord Aelvedaar's Inner Sanctum is indeed in this direction."

Suddenly the possibility of being correct loomed at them in the form of a great wooden door. Unlike the one she had just left, this one bore no words in High Sith. No names were emblazoned boldly upon it, no jewels of any kind decorated it's oily blackness.

Only runes too strange and noisome for her to interpret ran over the wood; she shivered, wondering why she had never noticed them before.

Taking a breath, her knuckles white for the death's grip she had on the Sword, she slowly pushed the door open and entered into a room that was utterly dark.

The tiny hairs on the back of her neck prickled as that strange sense told her this chamber was immense...

My eyes flashed open, the read pupils easily adjusted to the darkness as they had been closed for some time now as I rose quickly and silently, survivalist and assassination instincts mixing almost violently as I felt the Blade of the Black Lotus come to my hand, rolling silently to a side before the light from the open doorway could reveal me, making a final dampening of my link to Ragorian.

I could now see the figure, a silhouette yes, but one that had haunted my small dreams and my fears for days now as I looked upon the doorway from my small cubbyhole in the side of the room.

"Graysith..." I murmured, a flash of memory comming over me, the claw upon my flesh as I had vowed falsely to the witch for the bastard now clung in her hand who had abandoned me for her now. The feel of that Axis in my hand as I had stolen it, the grip of the sith who had caught me, and the even harsher and colder grip of that hell she had put me into.

"So they've come for me, come for me at last..." I felt a wave of coldness wash over me as the grip of something with more will, more power, more fury came over my mind.

HATRED

I shrugged off the weak bonds of the boys mind as the key to my existance stood before me, fearfully clutching that foolish blade in her hand. That blade was just as pathetic, as foolish to have betrayed me, just as she had. It was his fault after all that she had.

He was as guilty as her I thought as I silently moved along the side of the room, another well hidden shield of "invisibility" clinging over me like the musty air I breathed, feeling the black blade in my hand. However, even as I moved, I felt a strange "otherness" stealing over me... this would have to go quick, or it might get out of hand.

But on them.

"Ragorian, take heed!" she hissed as within a heartbeat she had flashed from Jharmeen Qu'taro into Dark Lady of the--

Warriors.

She had not been given that title merely upon her good looks, after all...

The Glyph on her forehead blazed forth it's ultraviolet splendor, sending radiance into the gloom, beating back the shadows.

"I know you are there, come out from hiding, be you friend or foe, ally or assassin!" she cried, gripping the Blade and casting an alert glance all about herself, ready to attack or defend, or to simply remain still, as need be.

He had been following Rykounagin's presence through their bond, leading Graysith throughout the corridors of the temple, until at last they had come to the huge doors.

Behind them, Ragorian knew, Rykounagin awaited.

As they had entered the room, Ragorian had felt a rush of the boy's familiar presence, and then...

Nothing. The bond had vanished. It had gone out like a candle in strong wind.

Now, as Graysith sensed the unseen entity in the room, Ragorian knew what had happened. Rykounagin must have quashed their link.

And there could be no doubt that this was now he.

Remembering how they had last parted, at the cold fury Ragorian had shown towards him, Ragorian felt a wave of sadness crash over him.

And Ragorian clearly remembered the hate Rykounagin had felt for Graysith after she imprisioned him in the Elseness.

The two being Rykounagin hates most, together, in the same room as he? Ragorian sighed.This could get dangerous very quickly.

Reluctantly, Ragorian reached out, allowing his magickal power to fill him. He prepared himself, stretching out with his senses, ready to launch any sort of offensive or defensive spell as they were needed.

His power quickly climbling, Ragorian spoke to Graysith, to warn her.

"Milady...this unseen being...it is Rykounagin."

And Ragorian waited, warily, silently, and with an ever-heavier heart, for the boy to do something.

What a pathetic attempt to lure me out... I thought as I called upon another silent magic, the sound of running foot steps in the distance echoing through the chamber, just as some seemed to come behind the door, around in a circle, step after step echoing in dozens of directions, circling and crashing together as suddenly a piercing scream of a dying person came from elsewhere, another yell, a cry of distress, voices shouting, yelling, screaming for a great cresendo of sound.

Then the shadows of the chamber began to take form, shadows dancing about, walking across the walls as though firelight flickered and danced within the room, adding to the babble of voices steps, sounds, adding to the chaos and confusion, all as I took step by slow and gentle step forwards, now slightly behind and too the left of the hated duo.

Again I projected illusions, many a "me" walking slowly forwards, a handful of expressions from hate, to terror, laughter and all the like stalking forwards. Not the "new me", but the old one, the one those two knew so well.

"There are magicks here, the boy knows more than I thought!" she called mentally to Ragorian.

"This is your arena, my ally; I shall do what I can to aid you in your assistance of me. For I know you, Ragorian; you may have thought I had forgotten, but I remember you well--

"--as do I remember the attitude you used to bear!"

Knowing the wily sorcerer was with her, she raised her free hand, directed it toward the ceiling overhead, and sent out a mighty blast of the All.

Immediately the molecules within the stone began to vibrate, adding their own brand of chaos into the mix, shaking and jiggling with ever more energy, until they created enough friction to heat themselves to incandescence.

The harsh white light glared throughout the entirety of the immense chamber, clearly revealing to her a shadow hiding amidst trickery.

"Rykounagin, are you so afraid that you strike like a nek, lurking in the shadows, creeping about, placing your ill-gained magicks about yourself like a cloak against the inevitable?

"Fear me that much, do you?"

Even as she tossed the taunt his way, she sent another message into the sword.

"Be prepared, my ally..."

And before either one could say or do anything else, she ripped a mental link between herself and Ragorian, one as strong as the one she had open with her Adept. Indeed, now the three of them were totally interconnected.

As Graysith spoke to him, as comprehended her words and what she was asking of him, she released with a blast of that fascinating, awe-inspiring power of hers, the All.

The entire structure of the room began to vibrate, so intensely that they began to glow, and the room was bathed in hot white light, revealing a shadow of their foe. Of Rykounagin.

As Graysith taunter Rykounagin, Ragorian released his amazement at her power, and begna gathering every mite of power he could, preparing himself for the task he saw ahead.

Then, suddenly, his mind was reeling ,as Graysith tore open a powerful link between her and his mind. Quickly, as she bade him be ready, he righted himself and waited.

But not for long.

His Blade flew from Graysith's hands, soaring across the floor towards Rykounagin. Ragorian saw the moment coming, waited for it, turned all his focus upon it.There.

The blade clipped Rykounagin's ankle as he dodged. A small touch, nothing noteworthy.

But it was all Ragorian needed.

With a burst of mental energy, Ragorian leaped across the momentary bridge between his vessel and the lad, alighting in Rykounagin's mind...

...Only to find it was not Rykounagin at all that he faced.

Instead, he was immediatly assailed by a roiling, burning infero of emotion, so strong that he gasped in shock at both the purity and the intensity of it.

It was raw, seething, furious hatred. And it was directed at him.

This intense flame of hate was emanating from a huge, preadatorial beast. Slaver dripped from its long, curved, serrated fangs. Its huge, gleaming claws tore at the air in its rage. And its eyes...

Its eyes burned red with the pure, savage emotion that was now assailing Ragorian.

This Thing, this Beast of hatred, Ragorian realized, was in control of Rykounagin's body. Where the actual lad was, he did not know. This beast had apparently swept him aside and taken command.

The initial shock at this unexpected Creature's appearance fading, Ragorian felt a cold anger rising in him. This Thing was the reason Rykounagin was attacking them so furiously. This Thing stood between Graysith and her goals.

This Thing stood between him and the boy who had once been his closest friend.

This, Ragorian would not allow.

He would oust this Creature from its control of Rykounagin.

His magick rising to a crescendo within him, Ragorian stepped forward calmly, towards the beast.

It turned to regard him, baring its teeth viciously, but still he walked steadily towards it.

He would break this beast and drive it away with its tail between its legs, yes.

But he would let it make the first move.

I glowered malevolently at the foolish sorcerer who DARED too step foot into our collective mind. I would rend his mental flesh with my fangs, tear him assunder with my claws, devour him easily.

I charged forwards, the manifestation of my claws sweeping from the side to take him in the throat and leave him dead, but no, his hand almost easily blocked me! Perhaps it would require stronger powers.

Before her Rykounagin had frozen stock-still himself, his form popping out of the magick he had enshrouded himself with like a womprat popping out of its burrow. Off to one side of him, the Blade lay, somehow defiant still, in shining quietude on the cold, stony floor.

She blinked... for clearly there was something happening.

Not wishing to disturb the process, knowing through the link that Ragorian was involved in a terrible heated battle, one she could not join, she sidled to where the blade lay forlornly and retrieved it from the flagstones.

Raising a hand, he caught the Creature's first claw swipe, stopping it cold. This seemed to surprise the Creature.

But then, after all, it was acting on pure hatred. It made some sense that it would charge in, unwary of its opponent.

It had underestimated him, and it would pay dearly for that.

The Creature reared back, and let loose a burst of flame that raced towards Ragorian.

He calmly raised both his hands, concentrating ,and a glowing blue aura appeared around him that quickly expanded into a bubble. It looked similair to the filter he had made for Graysith...

...but it was far more effective. The flames crashed against its surface, roasring furiously, but they merely flowed around Ragorian's protective shield. He felt some of their intense heat, but was otherwise unscathed as the flames ceased and Ragorian calmly dropped the bubble back to an aura.

The Creature stared at him, now seeming both alarmed and still more furious. It let out a howl of unfiltered rage.

In response, Ragorian merely smiled.

He felt confident as his old talent at this rose back to him. This was a battle of minds. This was his territory, his arena.

He had not been taking over minds for nearly five centuries to be beaten back by this slobbering, mangy cur.

My turn, he called out to the Creature.

How very nearly so...

Her eyes narrowed then, flashing from beneath lowered brows.

"Come, my ally," she whispered to him, carefully so as not to provide him with any kind of distraction.

"Let this thing loose from the boy, that I might assist in turn..."

Suddenly his right hand opened and the brilliance of light that only a sun could produce seemed to fill the sight of both entities until the vision of the chamber at hand returned to them both showing the blade to now rested within Graysith's firm grip, a slight edge of blood upon it, the Lady Graysith watching as though unsure, the events played out.

~~~

Rykounagin grinned and held up the Lotus in his right hand, his eyes gleaming with a great.... something;

"Missed me? Or do you only remember me by name? After all, Rykounagin was just a little boy who played with grownups. But now he is one, and he wants to show them what he's worth." He expression went from a strange smile to a coldness as he held up his right hand, flame gleaming from it.

"Come then."

Then she softened, straightened, lowered her arm.

"We do not always play at war, Rykounagin, although some may erroneously believe that to be true."

With that she just cocked her head, letting a steady, calm gaze wash over the blustering youth, the light from her Glyph bathing him in violet splendor.

Rykounagin paused. "For every minute of that hell you left me in, I plotted killing you. Do you know why? Because being left alone is something that NO ONE should EVER have to endure, NO ONE, should EVER, have to wonder who they are and WHY they were left to rot by someone else." He felt his fury rise.

"Do you know WHY in the name of the nine HELLS I even gave a damn about that piece of sentient crap called the axis? Because OTHERS want it. Don't you get it? It's the bloody pandora's box of the universe. It offers you everything, then screws you over royally. It did it to me, it did it to your daughter, and had I no faith in my father, I'd almost guarentee it would do the EXACT same thing."

Rykounagin let the Lotus go, almost no longer seeming to have no care for any of it any more, the flame gone from his hand. "Do you know why I ever got involved with you or that thing before? Do you care? Well like it or not, the reason is because that shiney bastard in your hand told me to get it for him. And I trusted him like a fool because of one thing. I wasn't alone."

Rykounagin closed his eyes and shook his head, looking at the floor, almost amused now. "There is no greater tapestry when it comes too that object of power, for that matter, any object of power. They just lure you in and use you. The higher you are, the further there is to fall."

Rykounagin chuckled. "Now with all this in my head I doubt I could fight you well, for that matter I doubt I could break that sword if you gave me a welding torch. Why? Because I just realized it's not worth it, such a thing couldn't possibly be worth it. So I leave that thing in your hands for now. Break it, keep it, whatever you like. Maybe some day I'll end up killing you, or you killing me, who knows? In the end, no one can see the greater picture accept for him."

Rykounagin sighed, and looked up.

A ripple of unease washed through Graysith as for the first time she took note of the lad's wrist.

Saw what was emblazoned there, in shining, promising black.

She closed her eyes against it, then opened them.

"Your-- father," she began carefully, now knowing to the very core of her being that what Aeylmaar had said was right. Lord Aelvedaar already had an adoptive son, would not take on another, especially one who was not Sith.

Rykounagin was right.

They were being used, and terribly.

To what end...

She couldn't help sending Rykounagin a look that was almost pitying. If he saw it, perhaps he would inquire. If not--

"I would be honored to dine with you, and to-- speak more of these things," she replied softly.

"The topic is certainly a fascinating one, is it not?"

Oh my lad, how I see the fear lurking there, deep in your being,hiding behind your transparent bluster. The fear of being alone, unneeded. Of being useless.

And now this final betrayal, of which you have no idea...

She by-passed the heavily laden table, went to the wall behind which she knew Darth Wicked had kept his command center. Pausing there, she laid a cool hand upon the stone, shivering again as memories assailed her, then letting it drop as she turned toward the open balcony with its great stone balustrade. There she stood, leaning out into the freshening breeze, closing her eyes to breath in the piney scent of the nearby treeline.

She opened her eyes, turned back to the table. Even as she reached for some choice cuts of meat she couldn't help but search for a particular little marsupial, similar to the one who had been breaking its own fast upon the bounty Darth Wicked had then provided.

None showed so much as a whisker.

Smiling softly at the memory, she took her plate and joined Rykounagin.

"I have come to speak to my--"

A brief pause to flick a glance at the boy's wrist.

"To Dark Lord Aelvedaar," she went on smoothly.

"I thank you for your hospitality in the meantime."

Saying no more, she lifted a piece of meat to her mouth and began to gnaw delicately upon it.

"Or was it perhaps more of a "pleasure visit", to visit as a friend or the like?" He smirked, the way that he had spoken of her was more... with contempt, but it had seemed repressed.

And then compared that with all she had endured since that day long ago when he had first stolen the Finger of R'lous from her, leading to where she had flung him into the Elseness.

How inconsequential all that seems now, she thought, surprised at how quickly that brief flash of annoyance had evaporated.

"What I wish to speak of is for a Dark Lord's ears only," she finally said.

"No disrespect intended, of course."

Shooting another meaningful glance at the still black tattoo he bore, she quietly took up her meal once again. But contrary to her outward appearance, one in which she appeared to be focused entirely on her meal, she roiled with sudden and growing despair.

For while eating, she had sent forth a tendril of the All, seeking the essence of her Sire...

...and had come up missing.

"However, it could be considered that my father is... indisposed." He finished the fruit and washed it down with yet another small sip of brandy.

"If you wish, you may have in confidence that I will do my best to convey my fathers interests in this matter. He did not inform me when he would be returning." He chuckled.

Aelvedaar was missing. That was a certainty. And Rykounagin--?

"As I said, what news I bear is for the ears of a Dark Lord only," she said, working her jaw a bit to keep her growing alarm at bay.

"You are too young and-- inexperienced so be so burdened; I do not wish to inconvenience you, as I did once upon a day so long ago."

She shot him a direct look.

"For that you must forgive me, I was wrong to do what I did."

The words were softly spoken, genuine.

She picked up her fork, held it before her mouth a moment.

"Perhaps if you would be so kind as to tell me where he has taken himself, I might go to him directly. He does know me, after all--"

A brief pause, in which she could not help but send forth a stab of ultraviolet radiance from her Glyph.

"Besides, the information of where he is is for the ears of the chosen son only." The lie was easily passed, no thought upon it as the small jab at her own wording came to him.

"As for inexperienced? I'd love to say hardly, but I can compromise. It's a very simple condition." He smiled openly, a small plan forming in his mind.

"I can tell you all I know. In return? You allow me to accompany you for the time being until I rejoin my father. After all, even I could not deny his chosen daughter permission to visit him." He smiled.

"Then I thank you for your hospitality, boy. You have done well in your duties as host--

"--but you are not a Dark Lord.

"Yet."

With that she held out a hand toward the lad, creating a briefly physical link to join them together.

"Come, Ragorian," she whispered to her ally.

"Return with me now."

She felt his presence smoothly flow along that bridge, into her hand, through her arm, to pass through her body and re-enter the sword which yet hung upon her thrimm.

"Until we meet again," she finished aloud, giving Rykounagin a slight bow.

Then she ripped open a Portal through the All, and returned with the Blade to the yacht and her friends.

After all ,what they had to say was quite interesting.

So Lord Aelvedaar is missing? he mused to himself. Then our goal of recovering the Finger of R'lous is likely unattainable now.

Then, as Graysith touched hands with Rykounagin and called out to him to come with her, he...

...hesitated. Thinking fast, he began slowly moving along the link back to Graysith.

If what the embodiment of Peace said is true, than it is far too early for me to part with Rykounagin.

After all, he thought, guilt beginning to well up in him, Rykounagin views me as only a betrayer, the catalyst through which he might find fulfilment after he has exacted vengeance.

To him, I stand in the way of all his hopes for accomplishment and fulfillment.

No, it is not yet time for us to be parted.

His mind made up, Ragorian worked quickly. Finding a dark, hidden, unused corner of Rykounagin's mind, he quickly imparted a bit of his conciousness there, to stay and watch the boy, and when the time was right, speak to him again.

The lad and I have much to discuss, he thought grimly.
Perhaps, with time, I can right the wrongs I have committed upon him.

His task completed, Ragorian swiftly moved back along the physical link to return to Graysith.

"I am here, milady, he whispered to her. "Let us depart this place."

Almost immediatly, Graysith opened a portal back onto the ship with the rest of their companions, and stepped through it, leaving Rykounagin behind.

Well, not entirely behind.

"Nothing but words." He said, scowling as he viciously tore a haunch of meat from one of the many pieces of food. "To delay her fall." He finished too himself.

"Father is missing sure enough, why and where are still mysteries, but they too shall soon become evident I am sure." Rykounagin thought of how he would look through that device his father possessed, the Octahedron and looked up to where he assumed it would watch him from.

"Father, I may seem questionable, but... I'm trying, so hard..." He sighed, looking down as he rose and moved from the room to consider what next to do with himself. "If only I had a guide, a tutor, not necessarily father.... at least I could be constructive in some way."

Rykounagin considered commandeering another sith to teach him directly, but seeing how the other sith had reacted?

It seemed unwise.

Rykounagin stirred, the silence and blankness of his dreams slowly swirling to take form, faint whispers and shapes seeming to speak and dance at the corners of his conciousness, his vision.

"You're a lie." came a sudden voice behind Rykounagin.

He spun quickly and merely saw a shadowed figure, long hair obscuring its face.

"What do you mean? Who are you?" Rykounagin demanded, defensive.

"You're just a stupid lie." Came a different, almost familiar voice from another side. He spun and saw yet another figure, shadowed as well.

"We hate you, didn't you know?" Came a softer voice from behind, another shadowed figure.

"Who are you all? What do you want?" Rykounagin said, panicked as they all seemed to step closer, ever closer until, though they were a short distance away, they seemed claustrophobicly near.

"Liars are just idiots, fools who confuse themselves into thinking they're something when all they'll ever be is nothing." Came the voice of the first.

"Look what your lies have done too me." Came the voice of the second, stepping forwards too reveal himself as Rykounagin's brother, his hands gone, blood their only represenation as it spilt from his arms and from where his eyes once were.

"You did it to yourself! You-" Rykounagin tried to attack him, to destroy him, to finish him, but felt the iron grip of someone's hand upon his shoulder.

Rykounagin glanced back, and saw to his horror his own father, Aelvedaar's hand grasping him like death itself. "What is it father, what-"

Aelvedaar only grinned, then suddenly his face seemed to contort and wither, rotting away before Rykounagin's eyes those teeth and eyes watching him to the bitter end, a final whisper saying.

"All you are is a lie."

Suddenly, two minor personas came together, and he suddenly had murmured words, the power ofhis mind calling his dark blade to himself, the Black Lotus, and he held it to the palm of his hand, his dark blood pooling at the base of the tub into a tiny place before he took the blade away and released its presence in reality.

He moved away, crouched like some strange two legged spider, and dipped two bare fingers, index and middle of his right hand, into the pool of blood.

He held up the hand, and examined it for a moment, then slowly began coating the wall in the same paterns the covered his body, slowly working around from that central pool that would always stain the stone, outwards, slowly working his legs up and out of the tub upon they were forming a straight bar across the tub, his hand finishing the pattern.

Suddenly he felt his will to work upon the creation leave him, and his legs crumpled out under him, sending him to crumple into the pattern, the center dry and invulnerable to his weight, but the outsides smearing down across the stone.

"Did you merely leave? Was there such a thing of great importance that you would leave without warning and leave no notice for your return?" He asked the small swirls of dust that moved up about him as he took his pacing steps in the chamber.

Suddenly as he watched the dust, he saw that familiar swirl of the one he dispised face, though not distinct, the shape was enough to remind him, and with a furiour roar he clawed through it, removing the horrible visage from his sight.

But rank does have its privileges.

Tarnus let a sigh escape him; while not a creature who normally chased after life's hedonistic desires, he did privately cherish this one small aspect of it. For it was here, in the soothing warmth of the tiny spa, that his mind was absolutely freed from all physical restraint. The more his body relaxed, the more his mind was able to assess and analyze and collate.

But even the mind deserves a rest.

The Lieutenant General was doing just that, giving his mind and body a rare moment of absolute relaxation, when a wall-comm chirrupped apologetically.

He grunted again, sitting up, water dripping off of his honed body, to slap a fist against the receiving button.

"Yes?"

The syllable was neither angry or disgusted, instead being carried upon the inflections of neutrality.

The reply he received made his brows rise. After a moment--

"They have been taken to the surface? And the crew--?"

More chatter. His brows began settling to their normal resting place, when there was an ominous pause.

The speaker blurted out a quick chatter.

He blinked, shooting to his feet, water dripping.

"You're certain of this? Sullust--?"

The speaker confirmed.

He was moving from the bath even as he answered, now reaching to wrap a soft towel about himself.

"Inform Ahem I wish to speak with him."

The speaker squawked obedience. There was a moment or two of silence before the Captain's voice came on. Sorben quickly directed him to his private frequency, and when after a moment's further silence the speaker squawked again, he finally spoke.

"I applaud your spies, and am delighted to know that Ms. Manth was among them. Please direct her to this ship, which she will have free clearance to approach and board. I would like to speak with her in person. But as to the information she and the others have provided--

"I direct Sormontato to proceed to Sullust with all due haste. Use your own judgment, but...

"The Body shall die when we cut off its head. This organization represents a great threat to the New Federation and its citizens, and will not be tolerated."

He paused a moment longer, then added, "After all, the Mandate Actar laid down was one of Order, which I shall follow to the letter."

The speaker squawked a final time, and went quiet. Tarnus quickly dressed and returned to his quarters, there to mull over what he had just learned as he stood before the giant viewport, staring down upon the glacial body of Khar Delba which hung beneath his ship.

((OOC: Readers, this post and probably other ST ones to come are in reference to happenings in the following threads: Expecting the Unexpected, Dark Star, Black Sun, and Even Smuggler's Get the Blues, all in the "CSWU" forums, all of approximately the same date, thank you.))

He stood there for a great length of time, there in the shadows. His lips curled with pleasure as he thought to himself of the plans he had carefully nurtured for so long.

Plans he had begun to form long ago, before the Sith had even returned, before, in fact, they had even died as a race. He had known then, of his intended fate; had learned how to avoid dying at the hands of the Dark Jedi who stole their name unto themselves, holding it like a banner to hide their foul paleness for millennia...

He snorted quietly, jerking his wandering thoughts back into alignment again. Smiled, thinking of his old partner, Entaris.

That one paved the way so nicely with my child, he thought.

Dark and blustery, he did so like to please... primarily when it came to himself.

The grin broadened as memories flooded into his mind, rememberances of those unutterable times in the Darker Realms between Entaris and ShaRhylla; indeed, unbeknownst to her, at times between himself and her as well.

For thus is the way to greatness often paved, with suffering and pain and careful thought.

To think they all believe me the non-strategist, he gloated as from the shadows he watched the angry form of Rykounagin.

I, who have commanded nations... and who will command them again.

In the guise of Lord Aelvedaar, a nice little trick he had learned from his time with Entaris, he stepped forward.

"My son," he said in his deep bass voice, coming up behind the lad and laying a clawed hand gently upon his shoulder.

"You must forgive me, I had reason to depart for a time, and dared not inform a soul as to where or why."

Giving the lad's shoulder a squeeze, he urged him to his feet, guided him to a dark-shadowed corner in the private sanctum sanctorum, there coming to a halt in front of the Great Octahedron.

He made a wave of one hand before it. It responded immediately, coiling together the heavy greeny-golden tendrils of itself, which then parted to show an image:

A slight figure, curled on her side, flaming hair tumbling about, reddened streaks marring her pale flesh.

"Your soon to be bride, my Son."

The grip on Rykounagin's shoulder tightened.

He nearly choked when he saw the figure and learned of who she was to be to him soon enough.

"Father you cannot-" He could not bring himself to voice the words, to show he had doubt in his father even as he had come to return. "-You cannot be serious... you know of what our past is! How could any greater good be served by wedding me to such a crea-"

He stopped, realizing for once at what sort of fault he was at. "You alone truely know the greater good for what it is... you must see what I do not..." he looked into his fathers eyes.

"My Son," he intoned, now moving his arn to lay about his shoulders. He turned to the Octahedron then, watching as the image revealed the sudden appearance of two more Sith, who picked ShaRhylla up and laid her on her bed. One moved to lay his hands upon her face.

"The Triumvirate is old, outdated; it is missing a third which cannot be replaced. The Houses of the Sorcerers and Warriors are both strong, and with the realization that the House of Armorers lies vacant would quickly be at each other's throats.

"In this manner we may join the two Houses, and the ways of the Sith can continue in peace."

As much as he loathed the halfling he saw before him, he knew it would be selfish too let the sith crumble for his own petty opinions and beliefs. "I will do it." He said, almost at a murmur.

"Continue here in my stead," he replied.

"Use the little knowledge I have tried to teach you, act in honor, uphold the clan, and be wary of all, my Son," he replied.

"I go back to deal with... what I must, but I shall soon return.

"I trust you shall make me proud, Rykounagin."

With that the Deceiver gave Rykounagin a final, fatherly squeeze, moved back a pace, opened a portal with the All, and stepped through.

The portal closed with a moist little pop, leaving Rykounagin alone with his thoughts and the image of his unconscious, if unbeknownst to her, fiancee to keep him company.

((OOC: Follow Dark Lord Roan back into Into the Out Of in the "Jedi/Sith" forums, thank you.))

"I wish not to see that creature any further." He said, watching as the vision of her faded.

"Show me my most dispised kin." He voiced, watching as it again shifted to reveal his brother, sweating heavily as blood marred his face while machines seemed to be fitting altercations into his eyes.

What remained of them at least.

And of his arms there was little left save the cybernetics that were being placed there. "Dear brother... what hell have you visited?" Rykounagin asked with a chuckle.

He watched his brothers agony for a moment longer before voicing a final command. "Show me my greatest threat."

The octahedron seemed passive, undecisive for a long moment.

Slowly it's mists parted to show....

Aelvedaar?

Rykounagin's father? Who had taken him in? Who had sheltered him and given him love? What threat was that?

Question upon question bombarded Rykounagin's mind as he looked for a moment upon him. Then with a cry he pushed the octahedron away -not moving it- but pushing himself from it. "There must be some err, perhaps it is damaged... perhaps I have overtasked it. But mayhaps it answers falsely."

He considered, his heartrate causing his head to ache. "Perhaps his wedding me to that beast is percieved as a danger..." he murmured. "That must be it, it sees this action as a threat to my being, of course..."

He stumbled, light headed, away from the device, leaving it to its own activities as he began to make his way back to his room.

Quickly consulting with a trusted sorcerer (that many time helpful healer), he began to study customs, traditions, and the general history, determined not to err in his attempts to reign in a new era of joint efforts betwixt the clans.

I stand in front of my personal viewport, my stance wide, my back rigid, gloved hands clasped behind my armored back, but it isn't the majestic scene of the blockade we have in this mysterious system that I am seeing.

Far from it.

It is the image of a Falleen of regal bearing, nose aquiline and supercilious, sensuous lips smiling, his green skin just beginning to tinge tantalizingly to red about the edges of his jaws, his fingers, down the sides of his neck.

It is an image of one Prince Xizor, deceased, straight from holobank data storage.

Black Sun. Wonderful.

I thought it had died along with him...

Apparently I had been wrong in this assumption, as had been my old mentor Seus. He knew of Xizor, had in fact dealt with him once in his early days as a hunter, before he rose to run the Tavlorian Guild which had trained me and raised me as one of their own.

"This is bad business, Sorben, never you forget that."

How well I remember that day of Seus's reminiscing...

"Black Sun makes us look like Boonta scouts out selling cookies. They have their fingers into everything -- everything! and thus have more power prescribed to their organization than the old Empire had. Well, all right... perhaps I exaggerate.

"But Black Sun is-- was a powerful entity in its day; under Xizor there was no stopping it. It had spread like oil through the galaxy; it's a good thing Vader killed the ol' Prince, because really I think that's all that ever kept it from rising up and taking over when the Empire fell.

"I met Xizor once, when I was young, when Palpatine and Vader were still alive-- and no one has ever put the fear of the gods into me like that man did..."

I sighed again, rising up on my tiptoes and then settling back on my heels to consider further.

I thought they were gone. Apparently, now they were back... if they had indeed ever truly vanished at all.

I frowned behind the T-lens of my Mandalorian helmet. This was a dilemma indeed, an issue far more difficult to deal with than the simple spice-running of the Hutts. For while the Hutts dealt with one illegal form of trafficking, and basically from one world, the Black Sun was more universally spread.

As Seus said, they had their fingers into everything...

But we at least had their flagship, their headquarters, which was something. That thought brightened my day considerably, and I returned to the data Sormontato had sent, to study it a bit further. There was plenty to be seen, and at some point in the near future I expected to see more as Imperial men scoured the taken treasure, seeking to find where the missing data had been hidden.

I do not plan on waiting for all the data to be in before acting, I thought to myself as I took my seat once again. Opening up my comm, I prepared a reply to General Ahem.

"This is Lt. General Sorben Tarnus aboard Relentless," I began."After careful analysis of the information provided, I am putting an official APB out for Aelly Ssyn, CEO of Dark Star Industries -- and probable head of Black Sun.

"All care is to be taken to apprehend her and bring her to me alive for questioning. As far as her accomplices or underlings go, kill only in return fire; I do not wish this to escalate into some kind of war between empires.

"I only wish to shut hers down, and the first step is to cut off the head of the snake.

"This is Lt. General Sorben Tarnus, out."

It seemed hours had passed before I had finally thought up a plan of attack. At that point I called in my immediate command staff, those next in rank to me. Together we represented a group which lived, by the most part, in whispers and shadows and near-myth.

Tersely, I presented them with everything I had obtained so far, following that with my thoughts as to what I proposed to do. In general eyebrows were raised, but no one ran screaming into the corridors of the ship. Some counter-ideas were offered; we spent several more hours and went through many pots of tea and caf as we toiled to come up with a possible solution, only to pick it apart and devise another.

At length we all agreed on something that just might work.

I rose to my feet, sending them each on their own private errands, each to their own scribes who in turn wrote up the proposals we had come up with--

--proposals to offer systems and/or organizations or corporations listed in the Black Nebula data not only amnesty from dealing with pirates, but thrice whatever Black Sun was paying or providing them. In exchange for this, their strict loyalty to the Federation was requested. Said loyalty, of course, meaning they would have no further dealings with Black Sun whatsoever and would pass along to key Imperial personnel any and all information they might have or would obtain that pertained to the pirate corporation.

Oh yes; we would offer them full protection from possible Black Sun retaliation as well.

It wasn't long before the ether of space was alive with communications sent out to the systems we had found, followed by more slowly moving transports as our representatives took off to follow-up the comms with personal visits.

The door to my ready room slid closed, releasing me to plop into my command chair. I checked my chrono--

This just might work, I thought to myself.

What other choice had these systems but to comply? After all, they themselves were now implicated in dealing with pirates; logic precluded that they run with the highest bidder...

I smiled a little, thinking of my private spa.

Time to relax a bit.

He considered not for the first time, his fate. To bring unity to the sith... such a great... great accomplishment. A thing that any sith would be proud of.

As I step through the portal and into the blessed comfort of my Inner Sanctum, I cannot help but stumble. It is a wonder indeed that I manage to keep to my feet at all, for now as I find myself safe and secure once again the facade of strength I have been maintaining evaporates. Much I have been through for far too great a period of time; I stare down at the stone floor of my great Sanctuary, balancing on one knee, the other foot flat on the floor, one arm holding most of my weight while the other lays limply over the raised knee.

I hear a slight gasp, and the quick rustle of Sith material. Then two hands grasp me firmly, and assist me to my feet. I smile, turning to see my young Chosen Heir, who rakes me with a worried glance before letting his amber eyes stop and rest in my own.

"Thank you, Aeylmaar," I say as I regain my balance and regality. I will not dishonor him by shrugging off such obvious concern, and thus I let his hands remain upon my shoulders, as if yet steadying me.

Indeed, perhaps they are.

For a moment I close my eyes, letting images of the pain and tortures I have been through dance before them. Then as each image rising, gibbering as if to haunt me, I simply reach out and embrace it, taking it into be. Accepting it for what it has been.

And thus do I find the strength to begin healing myself.

Aeylmaar's grip tightens imperceptibly; I let a crooked smile escape me, and turn round to him. He remains standing, close in my space, his hands yet gripping my shoulders. But, seeing my smile, he lets them drop carefully to his sides.

"I have been through much, and I thank you, and the others in absentia, for releasing me from my tribulation. But from pain and anguish there comes a bright spot of light; I have gleaned something of what my brother-- that is, my ex-brother Roan would do."

Aeylmaar's eyes widen in expectation, and he folds his hands afront him. I merely let that ensuing silence spread out a bit, and then break it softly.

"There is much to prepare for; he would yet rule the Sith as One, and has some plan afoot which involves the child of his loins, ShaRhylla. What that plan is exactly, I do not know. I do know that my magicks need to be at their strongest, that I need my devices to ascertain his plans...

"...and that before I can do anything at all I-- I must rest."

The look in Aeylmaar's eye had been starting to relax; now it flashes into worry and concern once again. I wave it away.

"I have been through much, and I am tired, son," I say simply.

"I would go to my private chambers to rest and refresh myself before putting myself fully to the task which faces us."

I see understanding in his gaze as he then lowers it respectfully to the floor. Then he turns and leaves me to gain my bed, from which I have been absent far, far too long.

It is a long while before I manage to fall into slumber, and then one not quite as restful as I had hoped it would be.

He wasn't sure why, but for the first time he had tossed and turned so violently that he had flung himself out of the bed.

Two meters.

He slowly picked himself up, shaking his head to clear his slightly waterey eyes, and leaned against the wall, feeling a trickle of liquid dripping down his forehead.

"Hit it a bit hard I suppose." he said as he whiped the small spot of blood from his forehead, and slowly picked himself up.

He went to a basin in the corner -full of water- and washed his face, before going to pick up his discarded robes from the previous evening.

I closed my eyes.

Now what-- I couldn't help but sigh as my fist raised from my private bath to slam against the comm.

"Yes?" I asked, trying not to sound overly impatient. Apparently I failed miserably, for a moment of silence followed, one clearly laced with trepidation so thick I could cut it with a vibroblade.

"Sir... there is a ship approaching. That is, we think it is a ship, sensors are having a rather difficult time latching onto it, sir; it's almost like a--"

I didn't let him linger in misery any longer.

"It's a Sith ship, Ensign," I interrupted him.

"What's the trajectory, as near as you can tell?"

More silence, silence finally broken by yet more undeclared apology.

"It seems to be heading toward the planet below, sir, and seems to have come in from the sister world. In fact--"

I slammed my fist against the comm, interrupting him again.

"Yes, I have already received word of this; has the ship tried to make contact with us?"

More silence, then:

"No, sir. There has been no attempt at communication."

I nodded to myself at this, for it was not the least bit unexpected. For a moment I merely remained quiet, rubbing my hands over my eyes and up through my hair, then back down the planes of my face again, letting one finger lightly trace the scar that ran from my brow to my chin. That finger moved to lay alongside my nose as I pondered further.

There had certainly been activity between these two worlds lately, much more than I would have expected considering what few facts I had gleaned about these people through my brief connection to them via my dear ex-wife. That thought brought a gaggle of its friends along with it, ones reminding me of the strange powers held by those beings now occupying the twin worlds of this remote and unsuspected system. In fact, it was only the knowledge of those powers that had kept me from making a formal Imperial presence upon K'eel Doba and Khar Delba to begin with; the fact that we ourselves certainly had to be known to the people below added impetus to my remaining in watchdog mode only.

We haven't done anything to them... and they have made no move against us.

Yet.

Thus existed an uneasy truce, unbeknownst to practically everyone involved.

I let my hands pull down my face before fisting one and slamming it against the comm again.

"Try to ascertain where in particular that ship is going, and tighten tractor beams."

Not that THAT was going to do any good...!

"Remain at station, and send out a yellow alert to all ships.

"Tarnus out."

Yet, now something was different. But the door was not ajar, there were no voices nor the light of a torch to show the way to such suspected intruders.

What could it be?

He observed closely, then as he looked at his own feet, he realized.

More than just his set of footprints sat in the heavily laid dust. At least two now marred and dared to tempt his wrath in the ancient particles.

The sith fighter let him slide through the nets of the imperials as if he were dust trying to be caught by a rake.

Which I now recognize for what it truly is.

He quickly scrambled up and backed from the chamber, torso and head still bowed as he shut the doors.

I smile to myself and lay down, soon returning to my slumbers.

His lip curling with disdain, he then opened up a portal into the world of the living, one linking his shadowy existence with that of the Temple of Sorcerers on Khar Delba. Through a long tunnel, darkly, he could see the glint of fire dancing in a hearth, could hear a distant murmur of a voice, could smell the fresh, clean scent of life.

"Rykounagin, my son," he called seductively across the boundless perimeter separating them.

"It is your Father; you must trust me now, my Son, and come to me now.

"Come, Rykounagin, enter into the Portal I have opened up...

His father was extravagant in his own ways, but this seemed like overkill for a journey that would only take a hundred paces too his chambers. "Of course father-" He said, walking quickly through the portal.

"Father, why would you not merely-" He looked upon the strange sith who stood before him, for all appearances having been the conjurer of the portal.

In a flash the lotus in hand, Rykounagin stood ready for battle with any fiend who would dare imitate his father. "Who are you? How dare you summon me under the guise of my father!"

(((OOC: Rykounagin steps into "Into the Out of" in this forum, thankyou.)))

He had been there for nearly six hours, having had too wait for two merely too leave the ship before he was even permitted too go and request an audience with one of the healers or sith available.

Now my musings are interrupted by a discreet knock on my door.

"Enter," I say succinctly, and the door opens to reveal my adopted son and heir.

I am quickly told of the arrival of a warrior from K'eel Doba, who is frantically seeking aid for their Dark Lady.

I frown, a stab of pain rushing to fill my chest as I quickly turn back to the Octahedron, seeking answers there. An image rapidly forms within its swirling greeny-golden depths, that of the one I made Graysith laying asleep with Lord Phalomir.

I wave away the image, turning to Aeylmaar with a frown.

"Return to this carrier, and inform him that he must bring the Lady here. I want to have every device we possess at our disposal, for this diagnosis should not be made quickly or haphazardly.

"Then give him free leave to depart to K'eel Doba."

Aeylmaar responds with a respectful bowing of his head, and departs to do my bidding. I turn and make another request of the Octahedron, which quickly obeys.

Another image forms: that of the sleeping ShaRhylla. My eyes darken to see how she sleeps in apparent peace, no retinue of servants surrounding her.

These corridors were solid stone, spotted with candle-bearing wall sconces, so characteristic of the Sith, the floors being made of stone as well. Age-darkened wooden doors passed by in a blur as he hastened back to where Kelvendar had been left to wait.

He entered the waiting room, coming up to the warrior and lowering his head in respectful greeting.

"A thousand pardons for the seeming delay, but the Healers have decreed that you return to K'eel Doba and fetch the Lady here. Being as it is the Dark Lady herself who is ill, we wish to have every healing device at our disposal in the attempt to cure her, not to mention the abilities of each and every Healer we have."

With that he turned sideways and lifted a clawed hand to one side, indicating that the warrior was free to return to his ship, and then to K'eel Doba.

It comes from nowhere, slamming into me, crippling me, sending my muscles into shocked rictus, my eyes unfocused, the increased beating of my heart an almost deathly thing.

For the Link, that one magnificent Link, is severed with a finality I know to my very soul to be complete.

I double over, the pain flowing, beating at me, striving to trample me to the floor. But gradually thoughts of what has happened segue into thoughts of its inescapable why, in turn followed by thoughts of those remaining, and what it is we all have yet to face.

Tears fill my eyes, unable to evaporate even in the fires of them. I stumble to the Octahedron, stand before it, one clawed hand upon its cool surface, the words forming like dread in my head.

"Show me--"

It obeys, my eyes are not deceived. I close them against the sight, a sight I knew was coming, but not now, not this soon, oh gods why did it have to be so soon...

Even as denial rears its head logic follows on its heels. I know she is human, was human, as did I know this that day I chose her from the myriad who make up the portion of the Universe termed humanity. I know such frail minds cannot handle Sith magicks without rupturing, splitting, in the end going mad.

How could I expect her to handle that which I bestowed upon her for the remainder of a human's natural life?

A sage once intoned that the good of the many far outweighs the good of the one, but such pronouncements do not make this moment any less painful to bear.

The young Adopted Heir nodded to himself in satisfaction, knowing that he had performed the small duty presented to him to the best of his ability. He had seen the Sith warrior Kelvendar back to his ship, and had watched as it blasted off, to return to K'eel Doba with the intent of fetching the ailing young Lady. After making certain the departure was uneventful, Aeylmaar had then returned to the Temple proper, going to partake in a small dinner before seeking his rooms to study a bit more and rest.

A day or so passed in this manner, and all seemed quiet. His father had not contacted him, apparently being busy with the task ahead of them all, and he had not even attempted to intrude upon the Dark Lord's self-imposed hermitage.

Until, that is, the unexpected happened.

It slammed into him from nowhere, doubling him over, gasping in pain and anguish.

Wave after wave of sorrow, of anger and denial, then acceptance of a grief almost too terrible to bear...

It seared directly into his soul... and it was coming from the Link established between himself and his Father. It was so overwhelming that it completely washed over a mirrored reflection, coming in from another source.

He fell to the floor, shaking his head, supporting his body with knees and one stiffened arm. The other one moved to press a clawed hand over his heart.

Father, what has happened? he thought out via his link, but received no reply. There was only that tsunami of grief, followed by a drear and frightening blankness. Not as if the Dark Lord had been removed forcibly or terribly from his mind.

But that he had simply withdrawn, if momentarily, from it.

He hurried to his Father's chambers, stopped at the ornate door, knocked upon it.

"F-father, are you all right?" he queried, speaking both verbally and mentally into the great wash of despair that emanated from within.

No answer.

He tried the door; it would not open. It was as if Lord Aelvedaar had experienced something dreadful, something terrible, and had simply withdrawn as if in the attempt to escape a pain too terrible to bear.

And wasn't letting anything in to the protective barrier he had created.

Panic began an insidious rise within the young Sith sorcerer. He knocked again, increased the tempo until he was pounding. Again, no answer; just that awful, empty, despairing silence.

Then into that black sea there came a niggle, a whisper; someone trying to contact him, someone with whom he had made a link with long ago.

"Phalomir, is that you?" he sent back a tentative reply, a deeper rush of dread now filling him.

For his Father's withdrawal combined with the serendipitous contact by the K'eel Doban Sith Lord could certainly bode no good.

Receiving a reply to his somewhat surprised query, the young sorcerer lifted a clawed hand, and tested whether he had managed to conquer this, the newest task set before him by the Dark Sorcerer Lord.

Apparently, he had. A great, shimmering splotch suddenly formed in front of the grand, stone fireplace in Jharmeen's rooms, and through it stepped forth a somewhat nervous Aeylmaar...

Phalomir raised an eyebrow at the condensation around the portal, but strode forward and through.

The thin garments Phalomir wore were not suited for the sudden change in climate, and his eyes widened at both the sight of the snow flying around him and the sudden chill that blasted his body. He turned to see the others following through, each with the same surprised look.

“I had thought we might have entered inside the temple”, shouted Phalomir over the wind. “But any portal in a storm.”

He looked around, and through the flying snow made out what appeared to be a wall. He followed the wall with his eyes until he saw a familiar set of large double doors, barely visible in the flying snow. He smiled, memories of the Temple of Sorcerers coming back to him. It was in this temple he remembered serving as Dark Lord, however true those memories may be.

“Well, you were not too far off the mark,” he said. “Come, let us make our way inside before we freeze.”

Terrin conciously made himself focus his thoughts elsewhere, and took Galen by the hand, motioning for Matt and Jasyn to follow along. Matt came along agreeably, and Jasyn fell in step, grumbling about something or other. And though Terrin couldn't feel it himself--this Sith flightsuits really were wonderful--he could have sworn he heard Jasyn complaining about the cold.

Cold? It hadn't been that cold on Khar Delba near to the Temple since...

...well, since before the Sith were brought back he supposed.

Stating as much to Galen, Terrin stepped through the portal cautiously and followed Lord Phalomir and the others already approaching what at least appeared to be the Temple doors.

Nodding, Shayla took a few steps back, and felt Erik step away from her, beginning to step through the portal himself.

Pausing a moment longer, Shayla spoke, to no apparent physical source, but to something none the less. "Take care of her," she whispered. "And if this is indeed a card played that is beyond the game, as I believe it is...

...please help us know what to do to right the wrong and restore Life."

"You must forgive me," he shouted back over the howl of the wind. "I have only yet begun to learn how to use the All with any finesse, and it took much in combination with my Sith magicks to create the tree to protect the Lady."

A shrill of snow shot against his face from seeming nowhere, slamming into his eyes. He grunted, shaking his head and hunching against the cold even as he swiped at his eyes to clear them.

"Come, you are correct, my Lord. Let us hurry before we are all in dire need of the tender mercies of the Healers!"

With that he turned, leaning backwards against the wind that threatened to physically blow him up against the stone wall not more than six meters distant from them. Bracing, he slogged through the drifting snow, his rich robes becoming wet and sodden with great, weighty clogs of growing ice. By the time he reached the door he looked more wampa than Sith there was so much snow adhering to him. But at length he reached the double doors, and flung them open with one great push.

The wind pushed them into the Great Hallway, along with whispering trails of skirling snow. As the last of the party stumbled in, Aeylmaar waved his hand.

Behind them the doors slammed shut, closing out the storm, closing them in.

"I don't know," he finally admitted.

"There is some merit in what you say; I will say that I too find this storm a strange one. Our world is fairly arctic overall, but storms of this strength, and judging by the amount of snow without this temple, duration, are indeed few and far between for the equatorial region of Khar Delba."

He paused a moment to turn and cast a worried look toward Phalomir.

"I could not even see the other buildings of Choyapenthe, let alone any of our citizens. They must have been forced indoors by the storm's ferocity."

Biting his lip as he speculated further, he then turned back and continued leading the party along the huge foyer until, passing through a set of richly appointed doors, they came into the Great Receiving Hall. There ahead of them stood the Seat of Office, the grand and bejeweled throne of the Dark Lord. Next to it, a smaller one meant for the clan's Dark Lady stood in dust-covered silence; it had been long since a Lord had taken a Lady for his clan.

Aeylmaar's eyes dropped to the floor as they quietly passed by the looming embodiment of the Sorcerer clan's leadership. Soon they came to the double set of doors set in the wall off in the distance behind the paired thrones; he brought the little band to a clustered halt in front of it.

"Beyond lies the Temple proper," he said simply, as a refresher for those who had already visited this place, as well as a reminder to all to tread softly. Nodding to see the sober expressions planted on everyone's face, he opened the doors and led the party through.

Murmers and the sounds of footsteps came to their ears as they entered into the temple proper. A little bit of the burden Aeylmaar carried seemed to lift as the noises of life brushed against him. Smiling a little, he continued ahead for a bit, finally stopping at nearby door. He gestured briefly at it.

"Therein is our Dining Hall. Should any of you wish to refresh yourselves, you are most welcome.

"But my Father's chambers are this way; come."

He livened up again when led through the doors to the dining hall. He smiled at Aeylmaar upon his offer to freshen up, but shook his head.

“I think the snow and cold has made me as fresh as I dare be today,” he said, following Aeylmaar to his father’s chambers.

I couldn't help the occasional ripple of unease that shot through me as we moved along, my feet treading as softly as they could, my eyes everywhere. For wasn't it here where I had last been imprisoned?

But yet, it had been Aeylmaar who had released me.

Now, one part of me was saying, hey, that's kosher. He's one of us, isn't he?

But yet... now the majority of our party, less Sis, was conveniently gathered together in the same spot. And all of us at the mercy of beings with a power at their command I found rather, well...

Incomprehensible.

I let a little sigh escape me as I continued along the flame-lit corridor, not willing to share my half-formed suspicions with anyone just yet, deciding that it would for the moment be a better thing to just continue on and keep my eyes and ears open.

And hope like all the gods in the universe that if push ever came to shove, that weirdness everyone kept saying I had--

Ok. So I had helped move an entire kriffing solar system!!

Somehow-- or had I?

Somewhere behind him, Terrin heard Jasyn mutter something about the Dining Hall and brandy, so he paused suddenly to shoot a quick disapproving look Jasyn's way, no doubt drawing the attention of others in the group.

"Just like old times," Jasyn quipped, obliviously happy with himself. "No brandy allowances, no Sith to stop us from enjoying the spoils..."

Jasyn paused at that, as if just realizing something very peculiar in his last words.

So it wasn't just him who felt somehow out of place. Maybe the news regarding Jharmeen's death had just travelled rather quickly, though Terrin doubted Lord Aelvedaar would be sharing that information with anyone just yet...

They were continuing on. Jasyn was kriffing right when he said there would be no brandy. Terrin cleared his throat as they followed Aeylmaar deeper into the Temple, and at last he interjected a simple question, wondering at the same time if Jasyn's random comment had sparked concerns with anyone else.

"I'm afraid I'm not very knowledgeable about the Temple on this planet since I haven't been here since...

...well, before the Sith were brought into this time. Is Khar Delba not as populated as K'eel Doba, or might everyone be staying elsewhere due to the storm?"

Something was not right here. And what in the fates was wrong with him? Jharmeen was dead, apparently taken without the will of All that Is...

She stopped in her tracks. "Wait a minute. Maybe we should be going back to Kori'san, and not here. We are beyond the game. If Jharmeen's death is beyond the game...

...taking her soul and her body back there should be allowable. And..."

Shayla trailed, her greeny-blue eyes defocusing, a thousand thoughts and memories suddenly streaming through her mind.

Of her initial meeting with Jharmeen. Of helping Recinis bring Jharmeen back from death. Of all the lessons Jharmeen had taught her and of her finally grasping the concept of the All. Of their trials with Roan and with the Master, and fighting for Jharmeen's life from one whom they had thought was Aelvedaar. Of her escape from the Master's captivity, and of those rather life-like bodies of Phalomir and Jharmeen they had seen on Kori'san...

Shayla's mind spun, trying to find answers, still not willing to accept any of this as truth. Your true potential, Shayla Stargazer...

She needs you...

Shayla blinked, the image of that Sith in her vision swimming into focus, his tatoo of entitlement plain as day.

A Sorceror. This was no chance meeting, no random event. Somehow it just had to be true. Somehow, she had to help Jharmeen...

...and she wondered if perhaps she did know how to do so after all.

Blinking the fog from her eyes, Shayla turned to the others. "All That Is stopped time so that we could protect the force on Kori'san from misuse. And yet All That Is did not remove our memories of that place...

...was it indeed for such a time as this? And might All That Is stop time once more, for an act that is beyond the game? We need more than Its help to bring Jharmeen back. Perhaps we need it to regain her soul as well...

...and to deal the Master the hand he deserves at the same time. After all, we've managed to bring her back in times past and perhaps we are not the only ones to have done so at that."

And in that moment, Shayla related all of her memories to the others, from her vision to her capture by Graysith to the frozen bodies and the many times she had been saved from harm in the past.

“That place does hold power, and I am sure it is no coincidence the ancient Armorers chose that site to build their Temple. I have assumed all along that we would need to bring Jharmeen back to that site, and my suspicions were confirmed with the message from That Which Is. What we must do, and Thoran will correct me if my presumptions are incorrect, is retrieve her spirit and unite it with her body in that Place of Places, allowing Thoran to use the power of that place to make her whole once again.”

Thoran winked at Phalomir and gave a “thumbs-up” sign. Phalomir nodded.

“And he knows his fate if he deceives us,” Phalomir said to Thoran. His eyes narrowed. “Or fails…” he added. Thoran’s eyes widened, and his mouth opened in protest, but Phalomir turned back to Shayla and continued.

...but also to get to her spirit to begin with. That Which Is does not like the cycle of the game to be broken, and has stopped the very hand of time to "fix" the game in the past. The fact that Jharmeen's death was not a part of the game has been clearly stated; That Which Is appeared to us... on Degobah. It wants us to fix the cycle, and apparently That Which Is also wants to help. Any ally we would have against the Master could not be nearly as powerful.

And as for being here to speak with Lord Aelvedaar..."

Shayla trailed as they approached two richly carved and bejeweled doors, "Let's stop talking about it, and do it."

And with a step of utter boldness and utter resolve, her mind on nothing other than restoring Jharmeen to the life so wrongfully taken from her, Shayla reached an arm to open one of the doors. They oiled open smoothly as she likewise entered therein, just inside the door.

"Jharmeen's death is not the will of the All, we have all been told this. Therefore there has to be a way to bring her back to us...and to herself. Lord Aelvedaar, please...

...we need your help."

A bit of my misery lessens at the sight of them, only to expand to where I am nearly driven to my knees. For it is quite obvious they have come bringing news I already know, seeking help with a ronto too large for even my powers to wrestle with. I let out a sigh, wave my crystal into roiling silence, and turn toward the outer rooms.

...and truthfully, her heart felt that despair as well. But she was determined and not easily swayed, as she always had been. And perhaps there were things she knew that could help them, things that all of those who had come with her knew as well.

"We encountered That Which Is on Degobah where we have..."

She trailed, a momentarily glint of her deep feelings of grief surfacing. "Where she lays in protection."

Another moment of quiet. "That Which Is has stated that this is 'beyond the game.' I believe that there is a way to change this, to stop time, or to do whatever is necessary to get her back. Gods, but we have That Which Is on our side..."

“Lord Aelvedaar,” he said. “I judged from your son’s concern for you that you must have known what had happened. But what Shayla says is true, and we have a way to right the wrong that has been done to her. My lov — Jharmeen was assassinated through unnatural means, her spirit disengaged from her body. This was at the order of the Master, who very recently tried to sacrifice me to the dark gods of the Darker Realms, but was himself seemingly possessed. Thoran, an old acquaintance, has the power to restore her spirit, but we must first take it from the Master.

“He is stronger than ever now, and we have it on authority from Thoran, who was a slave to the Master – and whose life depends on his honesty to me – that the best way to defeat him is by using the Finger of R’lous, which is most likely in Roan’s spiritual hands. Not completely trusting that opinion, we came to you to both inform you of what Shayla has spoken, and to ask for your wisdom.

“I feel that if That Which Is had decided to interfere directly, he would have done so already. I believe It is leaving us to our own devices to bring Jharmeen back – to return her piece to the game, if you will. It scolded us for restoring Terrin, but let us keep him, and left it to us to ensure that restoration such as that could happen no longer. But as Shayla said, It sees Jharmeen’s assassination as something outside of the game, and is granting us permission to restore her.”

Like there was some kind of wall plunked right there between us, segregating us from each other as surely as if we were on opposite sides of the universe.

And that made me just mad.

"Look," I ventured, not moving from Terrin's side.

"It's like there's something she's still got to do, and unless restored she won't be able to do it. Or else something that all of us, with her included, have to do. Hell, I don't know, but what I am sure of is that what Phal is saying is Khaandon's own truth.

"The Game Master of the Universe is giving us a second chance here. We need your help, dammit; I thought you loved her, anyway? What's with all the gloom n' doom when we've practically got our own private god in our hip pocket, helping us help ourselves?

"Who in Hell's Seven Circles do you think you are, to rebuff that?"

I fell into a quick and uncomfortable silence, hoping I'd offended the Sith Lord just enough to kick him out of his funk. For sure as Khaandon made li'l green worrts, we were gonna need his power in order to get back to where we had all stashed Koris'ian.

They disappear into the mists of the passed.

"You have my attention, and acquiescence; what is it that you propose to do? For there is more in the Darker Realms than your misguided father, Phalomir."

I pause fractionally, sweeping them all with a glance, letting a softened one linger on the fiery Galen.

"There is the Black Tower... and what it embodies..."

She quieted once more, lost in her thoughts, trying to find a way to make her thoughts result in anything that could aid them in restoring Jharmeen.

A thought crossed her mind. "That Which Is destroyed the Claw because it had a power that superceded the natural order of All, of life. The Finger likewise supercedes the natural order...

...perhaps the Game Master wants the Finger taken out of the hands of those who would use it for evil and wants the
Finger brought to it. Perhaps its destruction--much like the relocation of Kori'san to the Elseness--will in turn "fix" the game so that Jharmeen can then be restored?"

Quieting at that, Shayla frowned, uncertain of her thoughts that she had spoken out loud...

He most certainly knew what, or rather [i]who the Dark Tower embodied other than the Master. And that was something he'd had altogether too much experience in dealing with...[/i]

Squeezing Galen's shoulder slightly, Terrin spoke up. "We know exactly who resides in the Black Tower as well, if it is Roan you refer to. But either we face him with the best kriffing plan we can muster...

“Um, hey! Your Dark Lordship… Lordships, that is. I do happen to have a little information on this.”

He pushed his way past Matt and Jasyn, and then stepped around Erik, backing into Galen.

“Oh, sorry,” he said, turning to face her. He sidled off a bit to make room.

“I have been to the Tower, or as the locals call it, the Dark Hall. You can’t get in unless it wants you to, which sort of puzzles me as to how you got Phal out of there, but maybe the All has powers it can’t handle. Anyway, there’s more to it than you think. Roan may have the Finger, but he doesn’t know what he has. I’m not even sure the Master really knows what that thing is… but I do.”

Thoran closed his eyes, finding it suddenly difficult to speak.

“The thing is a tool, yes, but there is something else. Something inside of it. It reaches out, it speaks to you. It shows you things, great things that you will become as you use its power. I can only imagine what it has told Roan, or the Master. Yes, the Master once had it. He had in until it called to me, and in my haste to attain greatness I stole it and ran away.”

Thoran leaned against the wall and folded his arms.

“So it was handed down all the way to Rean,” he said, shaking his head. “Either the string of Dark Lords were weak, or they were very strong to keep that thing in check for so long. I know some of you have a thing about religion, either for or against, but I know this for sure. Telion is a spirit, the crap-job expert of the Sith gods, if you will. When they need a toilet scrubbed, he is given the brush. When they need a zit popped, he gets the tweezers. You get the idea? Well, that’s what the library told me, anyway. Whether or not it really gets it orders from some supreme set of Sith gods who may or may not be out there, that doesn’t really matter. What does matter is that the thing is only around when there is a crap job to do, and it will stick around until it is done. The Finger has nothing to do with Telion, it has its abilities and always will, it was made by the Armorers so long ago that even I don’t know when. There’s no record of it, but it is clearly a product of Sith technology and magick, probably made by the same nut who made the Eye of R’lous – and I distinctly remember spending quite some time inside of that thing. “

Thoran shook his head again.

"You're not the only one who wants that, buddy," I affirmed with a definite nod of my head.

"I'll be the happiest spacer this side of the Rift if you can figure out a way to eliminate those two slime-oes from the galaxy, assuming you know how to kill a dead guy."

It still gave me the heebie-jeebies to even state his name; I knew they knew who I referred to, though. That was confirmed by the instantaneous fire lighting in everyone's eyes.

I heaved a little sigh and leaned into Terrin, feeling his warmth, the beating of his heart.

"Kind of makes you wonder if there's any other handy-dandy devices out there like these two, doesn't it?" I tossed out before sending a meaningful look to Thoran. Even though leaning into Terrin, I somehow managed to convey an attitude of almost military attention.

"I sure hope you don't send that one lil ol matter we want to set right out the window in your attempt to settle your own bets, pal," I said, my eyes darkening. For after all, I still didn't know if we could completely trust this guy.

"Whatever those might be..."

He trailed for a moment, his brown eyes momentarily looking Terrin and Galen's way, "I could say that's not me either. Unfortunately, with or without the booze, it is. Because it's still a choice. And you made a choice, slave or not. We'll see what happens now."

"Umm... ah, no," I stammered, letting an embarrassed sort of smile cross my face.

"I, er, kinda eliminated it when I sent it into a sun, courtesy of Yaoksi's TIE, Bee.

...and we have the very hand of All That Is already backing us up. We need to go to Korisan and speak with That Which Is before we proceed further. In the time when we dealt with It in the past, It left us clues to know what to do next. I have no doubt It will do the same for us again. If the destruction of the Finger is what is needed...

I turn to the Adept of my Chosen One.

"What has this entity said to you, that you feel it is willing to assist us in this matter?" I ask, raking her with a flaming and intent stare while my clawed hand raises in the direction of Thoran, bidding he keep his flippant mouth shut.

...white spiders. It was as if something was reaching out to...

...to protect her...

...her body."

Shayla paused a moment, the look in her eyes deepening. "I could literally feel the Force of the Life there, on Degobah. And that was when That Which Is appeared. We have encountered It in the past, back when we brought Terrin back to life..."

She trailed another moment, knowing how strange that sounded to anyone who might not know the entire story. "It told us that the "Game had been broken" at that time, and we had to do something to "fix" the game and place it "back in order." But on Degobah, That Which Is appeared again, after the white spiders covered the bed which Jharmeen laid upon for protection. It said "You are beyond the Game now, you know." And with nothing futher than that, it simply disappeared...

“I agree with you Shayla,” he said, “that the game master has ‘called a foul’, if you will, but I do not believe it intends to take direct action beyond what it did there on Dabogah. By its words and actions it has given us permission to bring Jharmeen back to us, but I do not think it will help us further. Otherwise, do you not think it would have done or said more on Dabogah?”

Phalomir’s expression turned grim as his head lowered.

She quieted then, her nerves wearing. "Jharmeen has been taken from us unnaturally, and has fought for all of us at some point in her lifetime...

...and yet we sit here and talk while her soul is in the hands of the Master?"

She trailed, her greeny-blues piercing Phalomir's eyes. "We cannot assume that the appearance of That Which Is the sole intervention it will take. We will not know this until we explore the option...

...or determine a better one. Relying on our own wits will be important...

...but what does your wit tell you Phalomir? Would not the best place to go for any assistance be the World of the Armorers, That Which Is aside? And the ideas of any others would be helpful...

...but bear in mind we need to come to a decision. For as we speak, Jharmeen's soul remains in the hands of the Master...

“I’m not shooting down every idea, Shayla,” he said. “Nor are we standing here doing nothing. That Which Is has revealed itself to have vast powers, with control over time itself. It appeared to us on Dagobah, it protected Jharmeen’s body more than I could, it gave us a message, then it left. If it wanted to do more, I think it would have.”

Phalomir inhaled and let his breath out slowly.

"You know, there is merit in what you both are saying, and a visit to Kor'isan seems like a good place to start for more than one reason. Totally dismissing the possibility of That Which Is intervening again is probably not a good idea. After all, when we were dealing with It before, It seemed to pop in and out, and seeing if going to the very place where we had the most interaction with It might lead It to give us more clues.

"Still..." He trailed a moment, trying to figure out how to word his next thoughts. He proceeded on. "...I'm speaking from experiences in dealing with the Big and the Bad. We are going to have to rely on our wit, perhaps more than ever. I simply think that the best way to beat the Master will be to take him totally off guard. He's going to expect us to come at him with a weapon or a stronger ally. What he may not necessarily expect is for us to come at him with nothing more than what we already have. And maybe that is what That Which Is meant by us being "beyond the game." The Armorers, it seems, dealt with more than just weaponry. They dealt in items that controlled and manipulated both Sith magick and the All...

...and forgive me if what I'm about to suggest is total nonsense."

He paused, eyeing Thoran a moment before continuing, looking at the entire group. "One of us here may have an answer to my thoughts," he observed, looking at Thoran once more. "The frozen bodies that Shayla has referred to...

...remember what Thoran told us they were? Just bodies, possibly taken from the future right around a time when Phalomir and Jharmeen were killed. 'Just bodies' implies no soul within them...

...only the Master has been trying his damnedest to get Phalomir's soul...

...and now he has Jharmeen's soul. Maybe we should check on those bodies on Kori'san while we go there, cause I'm assuming we are all pretty much in agreement that's where we'll go. We know that's where we saw them last, and I for one would like to know if either of them are still there.

And furthermore, I'd love to know just what the Master intended to do with them to begin with."

Pausing at that, he turned intense green eyes to Thoran. "Any thoughts on that?"

I raise my own, interrupting.

"I agree; we must go to Koris'ian and see as to these bodies. Much has come from meddling with the Life's Blood of what is; there are stranger paradoxes that have already occurred within our current time path while in reality not actually having happened as yet."

I pause a moment, frowning at my own inadequacy, striving to expose that mind-rattling conundrum I can only feel, that they might begin taking their first baby-steps away from dependency into self-sufficiency. For in my soul of souls I realize that is what it will take to defeat the dark entity who calls himself Master, and yet who is not.

I shake my head, sighing. Perhaps later I might find a better means of communicating that which they must know; for now I return to the realm of the comfortable and ask a simple question.

"Does any one present have the means to return us to the system, now safely hidden within the Elseness? For travelling in the realms other than what we term real is no simple matter; while I was able to create a portal from there back to my temple, I'm afraid the reverse is quite impossible. I have not established a Link, and it was my Chosen One -- and you -- who placed the system where it is and yes, who travelled there to eventually rescue me from my plight."

Frustrated, I shake my head. Now is not the time to teach of the vagaries of those side-slipped places within the spacetime continuum. Difficult enough to sideslip our own space, it takes great power to enter into the Elseness if not via an already established rift.

But this had been done, albeit with the powers of Jharmeen. The question now was whether we could yet return there without the connection she had established there.

...and unless I'm mistaken, that may be where the ship has remained. I don't remember us ever taking the ship out of the Elseness, at least...

...and perhaps with our current noteriety on K'eel Doba, it was better that we left the ship there, should we need it."

His mouth twisted as he thought.

“I do not possess the use of the All,” he said. “But as Dark Lord of the Armorers I feel a strong connection to the temple itself. Could we use that in conjunction with your abilities, Lord Aelvedaar? It is almost as if I feel the Temple’s presence ever within me, as real and thriving as my love for Jharmeen…”

Phalomir paused, eying Aelvedaar with a gentle sadness. “As I suspect mirrors your own feelings.”

Phalomir frowned and lowered his eyes.

“As for the strange bodies… when we were last there, the containment units that held them were breached, and both were empty.”

"I find this disturbing," I state as I stare into his intense green eyes.

"That such dopplegangers were at first found within the Temple on Koris'ian, only to then disappear leads me to believe the Master is behind it. For only one with All abilities would have the power to bring the pair to hiding, as had been done, only to remove them. Unless I am mistaken, they had to have been brought there from some time in the future, for reasons I do not wish to speculate upon."

Now I cast a molten look about the remainder of the group, assessing their individual strengths and weaknesses as I capture one set of eyes after another. There is truth in the statement that the eyes are the window to the soul... A small smile flickers at the edges of my lips, for the souls before me are nothing if not determined.

As determined as I.

"The Master uses the All; I have taught my Chosen Daughter something more than the bare minimum of its wonders. Perhaps I should not have held back from her its true beauty, for she had not the power to prevent such as what happened to her from ocurring.

"I, however, know something more... and am beginning to teach my next in line of this. There is something more, a paradox if you will."

I pause a moment, gathering myself together, pursing my lips as I think for a bit of what I am about to reveal.

My eyes return to Phalomir's, and I lay a clawed hand upon his shoulder.

"Knowing of the All and using its power are two things, my friend," I begin carefully.

"From the time when we first began to understand it, only the most elite of my clan were privy to its knowledge. At that time I was only beginning to show my then adept, Aeylmaar, of its powers, its magnificent possibilities. With our Great Victory, I raised his lessons to the next step.

"That he is an apt pupil and takes his lessons seriously is rather obvious; he will in fact become, perhaps, a greater adept in the All than ever I could be."

Aeylmaar gives a start at this; I lift one hand from Phalomir's shoulder to wave off his modest protests.

"Hear me out," I make a command out of the request.

"Only the most elite of our clan may learn the intricacies of this power," I repeat, turning from one to the other to see if any glimmerings of understanding have surfaced yet.

I believe there are some; Phalomir's eyes widen with something approaching the onset of shock, while the young Adept of my Chosen One, she who once touched the beauty of the All as well, frowns in concentration.

I tighten my grip on Phalomir's shoulder.

"I believe you are my descendent, my friend. For your father has great ability when it comes to the All, an ability which can only be taught, handed down through the generations one Dark Lord to another.

"But he misuses the power terribly; we must tread carefully. For some reason he has come to this moment in time, has taken Jharmeen from us, has taken you as well.

"I believe he has orchestrated your deaths; hers at this moment, yours is yet to come. The bodies had been placed in the Temple, thought to be safe, removed when discovered.

"Removing the living soul is a feat not easily mastered, and when accomplished places the one achieving such a miracle in mastery over the individual into whom the soul is then placed."

I pause again, my breath coming hot with anger now.

"Curse this power, the fact I had not the strength to remove it from us once our Return was made!"

Again I return to Phalomir, sink my claws into his shoulder.

"In our venture into the Darker Realms we will be facing one extremely adept in the All, one who has had all the time of his upbringing to learn from his father, who has had more time allotted to its study than even I, and who has taken the soul of your beloved.

"Who has a future body of your beloved, into which he may be planning on placing the soul he has taken, and who may have plotted this all along to entice us into those hideous realms that he might then kidnap your own soul."

I sigh, shake my head, knowing how fantastic this sounds, how surreal. But in my heart of hearts I know this is in fact what is happening, although to what end, for what purpose I can only speculate.

I raise my head again.

"Phalomir, if what I have suggested has indeed already happened, you, or any of us, may have to kill the doppleganger... which will of course be none other than Jharmeen. I can only hope that I have the power to regain her soul at the moment of death, that it might be placed back into the correct, protected, vessel."

I stop at this. Now is not the time to investigate the very real possibilities of this recurring, over and over. Until the Master is stopped, the two will live in danger.

And this is only on the surface of it. I have not yet begun to consider the ramifications of the Master's continued misuse of Time, not to mention the additional conundrum of what might happen if he has advanced to the highest level.

The level giving one mastery not only over the fabric of space and time... but finally over the infinity of universes which indeed exist in a beautiful and delicately balanced multiplex.

“I have long suspected,” he said, “though various discoveries, that I am descended from your line. I do not know what memories are real and which are lies, but in my time I was Lord of the Sorcerer clan. But I refused to know the All, even though the council demanded it.”

Phalomir looked Aelvedaar in the eyes.

“The bodies were gone before we moved the system into the Elseness. And it is was on that very same trip that we discovered the Master had been banished to the storeroom of the strange ship we used. He led us to believe that it was you who did it to him, but obviously that was false. But he would have had the bodies released by then… and I was captured and – tortured – in the Darker Realms after this. He was trying to bond my spirit with something very dark and sinister, some black force that ended up possessing him when Jharmeen and Shayla thwarted him.”

Phalomir shook his head.

“I makes no sense, if he planned one thing all this time, to have these bodies.”

Phalomir looked around the room and locked eyes with another.

Impatient to get back into attack mode, I interrupted before Thoran could lead us farther down the primrose lane the Dark Lords seemed intent upon traversing.

"Of course it makes sense, you big lug!" I burst out, taking a step away from Terrin's protection to place myself between the two towering Sith. That my head scarcely came to their chest level didn't deter me in the least; heaving a sigh, I placed my hands on my hips and stared up at Phalomir.

"Didn't Lord Aelvedaar just say that whoever yanked a soul away to place it into another vessel, or body, or whatever--"

I paused for a momentary grimace of distaste.

"--then has control over said vessel? Or weren't you listening?"

Catching a somewhat incredible look from Terrin I sidled back against his side.

"He seems to have missed that somewhere, although to tell the truth I don't know what in Hell's Seven Circles we're going to do if Phal's dear ol' Daddy has already stuck Jharmeen into her body... er, her future body, that is."

I then fell silent, waiting for everyone to assimilate what I had just said, in particular the unspoken conclusion that if the Master held sway over both the Dark Lord and Lady, life on K'eel Doba might just take a sudden turn for the worst.

Ol' Googly-Eyes notwithstanding.

...but is it possible for us to discuss all of this enroute to Kor'isan? I mean, I'm sure all these thoughts will be important to consider, but kriffing hell, time is still ticking. Or at least it was the last time I checked. So don't we need to get on a ship a get the hell on our way? We have a couple of connections to Kor'isan...

...Phal's connection and Panthar's connection. And hell, if we can't appropriate a ship here...

I wait until I have captured the attention of all, and explain my thoughts.

"Phalomir, Panthar: you both have a strong connection to Koris'ian. One via a link with the essence of Life there, the other with the very Temple that we seek. Unless any other of you has a stronger connection, I would use both of you as a guide to where I place the Portal that I open."

“Hell, yeah, I’m game!” he said. Phalomir gave a single nod to Panthar and stood quietly, waiting for Aelvedaar’s orders.

Panthar raised his eyebrows and leaned in to the closest person, which happened to be Shayla.

“Hey,” he whispered, cupping his mouth with his hands. “Maybe this is nothing, but you know, Phal was alone with the Master for a long time before you guys rescued him. If the Master already could have swapped him out…”

Panthar swallowed his thought and bit his lower lip. He raised his head and smiled at Aelvedaar.

I recall his seemingly offhanded response to the disclosure of the paired bodies, and their disappearance.

"Not you," I state abruptly, reaching out with a clawed had too swiftly for him to react. He blinks, surprise accompanied with perhaps a touch of anger beginning to march along his face before he disappears along the Mobius time-loop I have placed him upon.

The others stare at me, dumbstruck. I merely turn back to Panthar, my hands hidden within my robes, and nod to him once.

"He shall be safe, caught between one nanosecond and the next. An eternity of now, if you will. But the words you have spoken have merit. Considering what he himself has gone through, we simply cannot trust him now."

Now I reach out with one hand and lay it against Panthar's temple, spreading my fingers out to splay about his head, seeking pressure points and nerve nexii.

"The connection with the Life Force is always stronger than one to a place, however magickal; concentrate upon your tuk'ata friend."

He bows his head, closing his eyes to follow my instruction, sweat beading upon his face and chest with his effort. It is not a fruitless one, for after a bit the haunting wail of a tuk'ata in full song wafts into my ears as if from a very great distance, the smell of greenery tickles in my nostrils.

I grunt with the effort of pointing my other hand to Aeylmaar.

"Your destiny is secured, my Son," I whisper hoarsely, knowing this to be true. For safe he had to be, and remain, to find a consort and begin the lineage leading to our descendent foe.

"But the powers of the All do not compound; remain here, continue your lessons, and attend to affairs of the Temple. But--"

I pause, concentrating fiercely as the connection clarifies before me. The finger pointing to Aeylmaar crooks upward, beckoning him to me. I sense the motion of air as he comes up to my side in respectful silence; even as he does, I clamp my free hand about his face in mimickry of the grip by which I hold Panthar, once again seeking out nerve ganglia and sensitive points within his psyche.

"I open this Link between us, my Son, and further establish one to the Place of the Armorers. Should we be in need of each other, we now have a means of communication, and you have a means of reaching Koris'ian on your own."

He jerks away in startled surprise; even though concentrating with all my effort I manage a little smile.

"Continue your lessons, my Son. You have more within you than you know."

Then removing my hand from his features I stretch it out toward that middle space ahead. Closing it into a fist, I twist it just so, wrenching not only the fabric of space and time but that even more tenuous material existing between.

A portal tears open in front of us. A blast of wind rushes past as the cooler air of the temple seeks that of Koris'ian; the increasingly excited howl of a tuk'ata is heard.

I open my eyes; the Portal remains steady.

"Shall we go."

Without waiting to see who follows, or in what order, I step forth into the Elseness, away from that which men term real.

((OOC: Follow Aelvedaar et al into Middlespace, Thirdspace in the "Jedi/Sith" forums, thank you.))

Panthar wiped the sweat from his brow and looked around at the few remaining people. When he came to Thoran’s stern gaze, Panthar at first lowered his gaze, but then a small smile formed on his lips and he quickly followed through the portal.

Thoran exhaled slowly, then turned to Aeylmaar.

“Take care,” he said. “The Master is very good at creating a paradox. And with his new dark powers, who knows what else he can do. There’s something going on here that’s giving me chills.”

Then, not quite knowing what else to do, he simply turned and retreated into his Father's Inner Sanctum, there to lend himself with a vengeance to the lessons already given to him, to then extrapolate from them what he could in order to apply his growing knowledge to any unknown, and dangerous, situations.

((OOC: Follow Aeylmaar and any leftover characters -- Impys, Sorben Tarnus, etc. -- into the new thread, Silence of the Lambs in the "Jedi/Sith" forums. This one is too, too long!))