The Master stood at the doorway to the Dark Hall. The huge, daunting black doors were shut tightly against all intruders, and the Hall itself bore down like the culmination of every nightmare ever dreamed. The Master grinned at its majestic malevolence. His eyes followed the doors down to the ground, where a being in bright white armor stood guard over the doorway.

The Master looked down to the figure of Graysith, asleep in his arms. She lay curled next to him, a dark reflection of the loving way she was held by Phalomir only moments before. The smile broadened, and the Master stepped forward.

He was stopped short by the creaking of ancient metal, and the brightly armored figure brought down an enormous pike to bear upon the Master’s head. A gravelly voice creaked out a question, the Master growled a response, and the figure raised its pike and stepped aside. The doors opened, and the Master stepped inside.

“You are very privileged, my dear,” said the Master tenderly. “It is not often we receive foreign dignitaries. I am sure you shall be well received.”

A shadow moved in the darkness, and the Master froze it with a flick of his hand.

“Fetch the former Dark Lord,” the Master quipped. “Tonight he is to dine with his true masters.”

The shadow slithered along the wall, then flew through the doors, already closing.

"A dignitary?" He whispered, his voice slightly high as he looked down towards the master. "Such curious behaviour from the master there is!" His s' hissed and were extended as he spoke them, staring down to the sith below, cradingly the seemingly fragile body of the female in his arms.

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“Ah,” he said to the shadows. “Skarwael. Awaiting my return, or hoping upon all odds against it?”

The smirk turned into a more genuine smile.

“It matters not, for this day not even your insolence can wear thin. I have returned, and, once again, I have succeeded where Roan has failed. I bring to the Black Tower the Lady, the ‘chosen one’. He wants only vengeance, but I shall offer him something of much greater importance.”

The Master walked further into the hallway, the dark shape on the ceiling following. He could hear the sharp claws digging into the flesh of the stone, and the slither of the tail as it brushed along the surface. The Master came to a room, the door opening for him as he paused before it.

He stepped inside and lay Jharmeen down upon a soft, black bed. It resembled thick tar, but supported her and formed around her back side. The Master knelt beside her, brushed the hair from her face with his clawed hand, and bent to kiss her forehead. When he pulled back, a dark smoldering stain covered the silent glyph, evaporating into the air. He stroked his fingers over the glyph and tilted his head slightly.

“My son has an affinity with this one,” he said apparently to no-one. “She will not be harmed until I command it.” The walls and floor shook slightly, as if in acquiescence.

"Hmmmm, perhaps a gift to the lord, or bait for other mortals yes?" He inspected the dark lady, and as for most demons, was tempted to leap forwards and feast upon her easily hearable heart, but he resisted. "It matters not to Skarwael, he doens't care, the masters business and plans are his. Skarwael is just here to helps him."

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It paused at the bottom, hiding behind a black boulder. Demons marched by in neat rows, no small feat for such wild, salivating beasts. But these were the new demons, guided since their creation by the Dark Lord. His wane in powers was more than recompensed by his ability to train soldiers, and soldiers these were.

The small demon waited for a clear moment, then darted across the plain in a mad dash for the huge Sith-like figure at the center of the hordes. The movement caught the attention of one of the soldiers, and it instinctively lunged for the target. The messenger leaped to avoid the snapping teeth, only to be caught in mid-air by the massive hand of Roan.

“Masssster…” croaked the demon, wind barely escaping its mouth. “returnsssss… tonight… you dine…..”

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He squeezed, not as a reminder that it would take but a touch to kill the demon, for indeed ths beast was practically immortal. But he could make the thing very uncomfortable indeed.

"Am I a galley wench to come running at His beck and call?" Roan growled, pressing his fingers into the non-flesh of the demon's throat. The little thing gargled as it hung there, front claws raking Roan's arm, its tail lashing from side to side sending a spray of its poisons flying in a wide arc about it.

Roan ignored it. After a moment longer he snarled in disgust, and flung the demon from him.

"Your Master would do well to remember just who it was that granted his miserable existence a reprieve from death!" he growled, wiping ichor from his claws.

Then, the movement lightning fast, he pointed at the demon, using his abilities to raise it about two and a half meters from the non-ground of this terrible place.

"Tell your Master that he is not mine; I deny his offer!"

With that he rent open a Portal, and flung the demon through it to land at the feet of the one who had sent him.

Roan howled his outrage, letting the Master know quite clearly his feelings in the matter before he twisted his wrist in a peculiar manner and snapped closed the Portal he had opened.

[ 05-14-2005 02:10 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Dark Lord Roan ]

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“I am surprised,” he mused. “I expected no less than three pieces be sent back, not a whole. Perhaps I should have sent you instead?”

The Master stroked Jharmeen’s forehead once again.

“No matter,” he said. “It is only jealousy, bitterness that the Dark Lord of Buffoonery is forbidden entry into this tower without my leave. I would almost think he would jump at the chance to enter, but no, he of course would decline out of pride. He must be called here, but on his own terms. Allow him to believe he has not been granted permission, that is what we must do, my dearest.”

The Master turned to the little demon, and ripped his own portal open in the air between the two. In an instant, the Dark Lord was in view.

“Roan!” he called out. “I have returned home, and I brought something-- a small memento from my travels. I would dearly love to show it to you, perhaps even share.”

He picked up Jharmeen easily in his arms and turned to face the portal once more. He stroked her hair with his clawed hand, and stared into the portal as an unearthly grin spread across his face.

“What a pity it is that you cannot join us,” he smirked.

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"The old fool," he muttered in a raspy growl as his dark merriment was brought under control.

"And he purports to be so powerful!"

Shaking his head at the blindness of the other, he turned from the spot where the Portal had hovered, and went on to further oversee the military training of his demonic hordes.

[ 05-18-2005 01:45 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Dark Lord Roan ]

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“She will be remain here,” he said, turning to the two demons that occupied the room with him. “The powers of the tower shall prevent her from leaving, or being… taken.”

“Watch her,” he spoke to the smaller demon. “But speak not with her should she wake. She is of living flesh from the Realms of Light, and as such will fill your head with lies and deceit. Remain here until called for.”

He then turned his attention to the demon he called Skarwael.

He was cackling madly, in pure ecstasy of the moment.

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“Save you cackles for the babbling hordes,” the Master hissed. “I pulled you out of those ranks because you showed intelligence, if you wish to roil with the mindless masses then I shall gladly send you back. Lord Roan would surely find a use for you in the army.”

The Master’s demeanor changed swiftly once more. His face became a sea of devious delight as he flicked his hand upward, and the demon rose into the air. With a twitch of his finger, the Master brought Skarwael floating closer. He left the demon hovering and walked a slow circle around it.

“But if you indeed possess the intelligence you purport,” he cooed, “then calm yourself and mark well my instructions. My son, Lord Phalomir of the Sith, rightful heir to the Three Clans--”

A small orb of fire burst into being to the right of the Master. It cleared, showing the face of Phalomir.

“Remember him well,” he continued. “Revere him for the sacrifice he shall make, for the life he shall give to our empire, and to its master. The Realm of Light has failed us, and it is time to take the hand of our own destinies. Bring him to me, Skarwael, that is your task.”

He released the demon and it fell gently to the ground. The image of Phalomir continued to float.

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“The method is completely up to you, my friend. Once you travel to the Light, by means of a portal, then do what you can to coax Phalomir here, to the Tower. You, as a being of this Realm, may open your own portal back to the doorway. Of course, having no experience in this, I expect your portal to open somewhere in the Caves of Chaos instead of the Tower doors, but control will come with practice.”

Seeing the eagerness once again rising in the demon, the Master threatened a backhand. Still holding his hand poised, he merely continued.

He looked at the master intently, his insideous mind already thinking of ways to lure the foolhearted boy into returning to his masters home, and his.

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The Master grinned, then swatted the demon with his boot to send him through the portal. Watching Skarwael disappear into the shadows along the wall, the Master closed the portal.

“I wonder how many Sith warriors it takes to slay a demon?” he mused. “That is last I shall see of that one.”

He turned to the smaller demon, who was fidgeting in the corner.

“As for you, should anyone approach our prize, be it even Lord Roan, come to me immediately. The Tower shall protect her, but I wish to know who would deign to view our Lady. I shall be in the Resurrection Chamber.”

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She gasped, instinctively screwing her eyes shut tight-tight-tight against that awful Light, and when she opened them...

...it was to the blessed, cool relief of red-tinged darkness. She smiled into that darkness, laying for the moment just enjoying the feel of it, until from nowhere memories came barreling down upon her all in a rush.

Her eyes widened; she sat quickly up, looking around her into the unfamiliar darkness.

This must be... a medical bay on the Sith ship? she thought to herself as she slipped from the bed. She tottered slowly about the room, gaining her equilibrium, just being as other memories came flooding along with her growing strength, her growing confidence.

A hand flew unconsciously to the Glyph on her forehead; with a little grunt she realized it was there as normal, lighting her hand in a soft violet glow, reflecting about her in a tiny pool of light. She stretched out with it a bit, letting the light from it extend further to brighten the dimness...

...and gasped to find she was surrounded by something that looked like cold stone but which in her very soul she knew was not.

A small rectangle against the dimness beckoned; she went to it, finding it to be a tiny slit of a window high on the wall of the mysterious chamber. Her powers responded to her by now naturally occuring and unthinking call; quickly she rose from the floor until she was level with that tiny window and able to see out of it.

She gasped at what she found on the other side....

"Phalomir! Shayla!" she couldn't help but cry as she descended far too quickly to the stone floor once again. Then logic overtook her; grimacing, she then reached out with her powers along the Links she had created with them, seeking to reassure them in their undoubted prisons that she was conscious, aware of their situation, and coming to their assistance...

Only the call stopped cold, slamming into a block placed between them.

Angered, feeling strength born of fear for the safety of the others rushing through her, she decided upon a more direct action. There were other ways of contacting her comrades; a hand stretched out, twisted just so, ripping a Portal in the fabric of otherness that existed, even in this horrible place. A look of determination darkening her features, she marched toward the Portal...

...only to rebound from it as if she and it were the same polar ends of a huge and invisible magnet. She shook her head, and tried again.

Again she rebounded from the opening she had created, quite unable to pass through.

It was only then that cold, uncaring logic descended upon her, informing her that (one) opening a Portal as she just had was really, really fruitless since she obviously had no idea what lay on the opposite side now, did she? - and (two)...

Her powers were strangely truncated, leaving her less than half-defenseless against the horrors of the Darker Realms.

But not totally defenseless.

Determination flooded her, chasing away momentary despair. She would find a means of escape, of that she was certain. Ideas were already coming to her; mixed with them was her fervent hope that Phalomir and the others wouldn't discover where she had been taken and try to come after her.

Unless, of course, they were already here, imprisoned as she was.

She returned to the black bed, sat down upon it, quietly reserving what strength she had as she lent every brain cell to the task of reuniting herself with her loved ones.

[ 06-07-2005 12:33 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Graysith ]

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But here was the lady, now resting again on the bed. His job was to watch her, to alert the Master if anyone should approach her. This was easily done, but his curiosity was growing every moment, as was his boldness. After a short while he scampered slowly down the wall and landed on the soft ground.

“Is-- Is the lady comfortable?” he croaked out the best he could. His voice seemed almost demur, hesitant. “Does it wish for something warmer?”

[ 06-14-2005 11:08 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by patternghost ]

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She hadn't expected it would actually speak to her, however. Not to mention the surprisingly civil words that it had uttered.

She blinked her violet eyes, slowly, and forced herself to remain as calm as possible.

"Yes, I desire a particular warmth," she finally said.

"But it is something you cannot offer me."

With that she folded her hands in her lap, and fell silent.

[ 06-15-2005 12:33 AM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Graysith ]

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“You seeks not warmth of heat, but warmth of other?” it asked. “Master has telled me of such things, but understanding I am not. Warm to me is nothing, but to warm my outside when chills creep. Master tells of heart feelings, things that play on strings.”

The demon stared at Jharmeen a moment, it’s dark eyes pondering.

“Is it Phallymeer?” the little imp asked. “He will warm you? Master has sent for Phallymeer, will your heart strings play when he comes?”

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"No," she replied slowly. "It is not that. The warmth I seek is of the sun; it has been too long since I have felt it against my face."

She blinked, mildly surprised with herself to find the truth in the words she had just uttered. Then she closed her eyes, raising her head up as a sunflower would, seeking to follow a blazing star that simply wasn't there.

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Keeping her breathing soft and easy, she spoke softly to the little imp.

"The Master has sent for Phalomir?" she asked him, radiating innocence with every aspect of her being.

"Who is this Master, and why is he so weak as to seek out a mere Dark Lord of the Sith, when there is greater power to be had--"

Or battled against....

"And who is this other, this... Him of which you speak?" she finished with before falling into silence, letting her gaze dwell upon the scorpion-tailed little being, but now letting a flash of darkness creep into her own visage.

Indeed, although being constrained by what she assumed to be the magickal arts of the future Sith, she knew from the lessons she had received from Aelvedaar that every spell had its counterpart.

She now devoted herself to more serious contemplation of her predicament, lending every ounce of brain-power to the task of finding a way out of it, all the while keeping up a simple facade of helplessness and innocence in the hopes that the little creature before her would continue to be deceived.

After all, others of its kind were dealt with easily enough; she had no doubts that this one would follow suit.

[ 07-04-2005 03:50 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Graysith ]

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“Him is the one! He was, then was not, but will be again, he will! And to be the one that is who was and will be again will make HIM the one who is and will be! Simple, it is! Master knows, Master knew. When Master found the secret of time, he makes a deal, he did. Time-tripping son, blown around like fly in the wind, back and forth, forth and back, always landing and not knowing why. Not knowing who he is sometimes. But the son is not stupid, just lucky. But now Master knows the secret, knows why they make the deal, and knows it is time to bring time-tripping son home to finish deal.”

The imp dropped his back slightly and stepped in a bit, and lowered his voice.

“Master was mortal, his secret big-big and only me knows it,” he whispered. “Me knows more, me does. More abouts you lady, but me not telling. Yet.”

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