Apparently Kelvendar had been a busy little bee of a Sith in his compliance to ShaRhylla's orders, for none of the warrior units under Graysith's Second, Salandaar, were anywhere close to the frozen spaceport.

Much less swarming about a peculiar ship in particular....

Most warriors remained at the ready, their spears and swords drawn and bristling, but a chosen few approached the strange ship in one tightly bound body. At a nod from the highest ranking Sith, they lay their weapons down upon the tarmac, quickly making a mystical symbol upon the cold ground out of their swords and spears, making certain that every point was aimed directly toward what they perceived to be the hatch of the mysterious ship. Then they drew back even further, joined hands and, closing their eyes began to chant.

The eerie sounds of mysticism clashed abruptly with the technologically advanced hull of the ship, but Sith weaponry always blended with its magicks...

Even when there were those who were not even aware that they were dealing with things of Sith nature.

The hatch slid obligingly open; the warriors carefully picked up their weapons, taking care to do so in the direct opposite order in which they had been laid down.

Then they turned to the others and nodded, receiving a nod of affirmation from the captains. Soon about fifty warriors were swarming the ship, gaining entry via their magickally opened hatchway, while the others tightened their positions as well as their grips upon their weapons.

Within the ship, the leading warrior came upon a sight so unexpected it made him pause in mid-march:

There, standing quietly together as if there wasn't a thing wrong in all the universe, stood a blond-haired young woman and a Sith.

A Sith.... and a warrior to boot, judging by the tattooes embellishing his features.

Behind them they could make out a shadowy cylindrical shape, something that was strange in its unfamiliarity.

The warrior tightened his grip on his weapon, and glared at Shayla and Panthar. He had his orders....

"Place your hands where we can see them, and come with me!"

Waiting for a reply, he motioned to the others, who quickly ran past the little party and headed into the bowels of the ship, seeking to find anyone they could, to imprison them per the command of the young Dark Lady pro temp. Their footsteps pounded into the shadows, preceding their arrival, warning anyone who might be hiding that their masters were soon to be there.

Perhaps the warriors did not recognize them. After all, there were alot of warriors...

...and not so many of them. Still, something didn't seem quite right about all this...

Not that the latter was really of any great concern of hers; she was, after all, her father's daughter. Thus she tried to mimic the strength she perceived he had exuded with every breath, the dark wisdom and knowledge he had held, adhering to her memories of Dark Lord Roan like a granite slug adheres to the buildings of the Lower Levels of Coruscant.

Deep within her soul, however, twin entities were at war with one another: her own self-perceptions, based upon how she thought she should be viewed in the eyes of Roan, rising in battle with the flailing, whimpering child that she really was.

She shook her head, roughly dismissing her reveries, and looked to Mask.

"I am impressed with your shape-shifting abilities, my friend," she said silkily, setting her goblet down and looking directly at him from beneath her lashes.

"Perhaps we can use the arrival of this ship to our advantage:

"Is it within your abilities to board her without being seen by my warriors, and take on the appearance of my mother...

"My dead mother?"

She stopped before it, relishing the heat of the dancing flames against her face, and looked up to the glistening sword she had hung there.

"My dear Ragorian," she breathed along the link she maintained with him.

Concentrating for a few moments his horns bent forwards and he gouged a hole into the venting and slipped in quietly, shrinking his body as he crept to the aft of the ship, and the bridge. He looked about, then went to the main sigil pannel and shifted into Graysith, making sure once again no one was watching.

It did not take one long to discover the horrific scene spilled out over the bridge... nor did his widening eyes miss the quiet form of the unconscious Dark Lord.

He paused only long enough to make certain that the latter was not as dead as his Mistress before he turned and ran pell-mell back to the warriors confronting Shayla and Panthar.

"The Dark Lady, she is dead!" he cried as he came to a halt long enough to salute; then whirling, he added his own pike to those focused upon the unlikely pair.

"Murdered in most foul a manner, more than likely by the actions of these two, although why a Sith would stoop to such degradation is beyond my understanding!"

Having spent much of his anger and dismay in this outburst, he then continued on, quickly describing the details of how he had found the body.

"And, there is more... there is a Lord.. a Dark Lord, unconscious nearby..."

No more needed to be said. The ranking Sith glared at Shayla and Panthar, then barked an order. Two of the warriors accompanying him bowed briefly, then moved off with the other; it was not long before they returned with the apparent body of their Dark Lady draped between them.

It would have taken a particularly discerning eye to see the touch of offhandedness with which they handled the body....

"Take them away, and imprison them!" the ranking Sith ordered, watching as his men scooped up Shayla and Panthar in a network of spikes and prodded them forth from the ship. Moments later, the rest of the searching warriors came to report: nothing else was found of any import, other than that a few had likewise found the unconscious Phalomir. They came along, carrying his massive body between them, grunting a bit with its weight.

The ranking Sith watched with narrowed eyes as all departed the ship before him; then, casting a final glance about, he too left, leaving the hatch opened haphazardly in his wake. It mattered not; a contingency of his men would remain behind, guarding the ship like hawks.

"If it appears to be anything of value, bring it to the Lady ShaRhylla," he called back.

"She might find it of some amusement; the girl shall be needing some lightness in her life, now that both her parents are dead...

"...and her burdens as our new Dark Lady have only begun..."

“What?!” he exclaimed as he was brutally manhandled. He barely noticed the warriors binding his hands behind his back as he tried to look to Shayla. “But she was gone! I didn’t see her there!”

He was spun around and pushed forward. He stumbled but caught his footing.

“Oh dear gods,” he moaned. “What happened on that ship?”

He turned to the nearest Sith warrior.

"Silence!" he growled, then continued on his way, now shoving the blunt non-bladed end of his pike into the middle of Panthar's back. He pushed with all his force, grinning to see his prisoner stumble, arms flailing, face bleeding all over the cobbled stones of the capitol city of the Sith.

Soon they reached the Temple, where they mounted the outer series of steps. Gaining the apex, the prisoners were forced across the courtyard there, bypassing stone benches and softly-flowered trees in their short march to the opening into the Temple proper.

Through a surprisingly small doorway, they entered into a large room that looked to be part corridor, part foyer. The hulking shadows of great stone pillars stood about like so many stone giants, holding up their portion of the immense Temple of the Warriors of the Sith.

Through those stone columns they passed, but did not enter into the ornately carved double doors at the far end of the foyer. Instead, about one hundred yards shy of it, they were brusquely shoved to one side, toward a smaller wooden door. It lay there against the stone walls, oily and dark, seeming to grin to itself about all the secrets it had seen in the mysterious depths it held behind its back.

The warriors merely opened the door, and pushed Shayla and Panthar through. On and on they went, down corridors now growing dank and damp, fuzzed with writhing vines and hideous mosses, down stairs slick with condensation and worn by the passage of many feet.

At last they came to a particularly odious-looking door. One of the warriors opened it creakily...

...and Shayla and Panthar were shoved roughly therein.

"Rot in hell, murderers!" he spat.

Then slamming the door closed, he shot the bolt, locked the chain, turned and left them to their fate, alone in the dark, dismal dungeon deep in the bowels of the temple.

Meanwhile, it was the unconscious Dark Lord who had been taken to the brand-new Dark Lady, where he was dumped with a gesture just shy of pure uncaring roughness upon the couch.

"M'lady," the Sith bowed to the somewhat startled halfling, who was scarcely expecting this.

Then, saluting respectfully, the warriors backed from the room altogether and left her alone with her quarry.

"Indeed, my dear mistress," he replied in a silky purr. "So it has. The wheels are now moving. Soon your ambitions will be realized, milady. Soon the trials will surely begin. And when they do, know, my dear Lady ShaRhylla, that I shall be at your side, ready to give whatever aid I may."

"Now, milady, tell me please, what aid can Ragorian now offer you? What would you have me do now that your ambitions are set in motion? For eager indeed am I to begin, dear Mistress ShaRhylla."

First the sounds of steadily marching feet came to our ears, sounds I really had been expecting all along. I mean, weren't we being boarded? And didn't pirates -- ok, whatever you want to call whoever it was that came along without so much as a by your leave and ran rampant throughout your ship!-- search those ships as they boarded?

What did come as a total surprise, however, were the shouts and yells that rapidly ensued, followed quickly by the change in cadence of those pounding feet.

Suddenly the light in the doorway of our storage chamber was blocked, and limned therein were the forms of two or three Sith warriors. Although I knew we were invisible, I held my breath anyway.

Oh Khaandon, I hope their magicks aren't what they're supposedly cracked up to be! Maybe that's why they respected my sister so much--

My idly blathering thoughts were abruptly severed as one of the warriors stepped into the room. The wicked looking pike he held seemed to be about four hundred feet long, armed with teeth that snapped and bit viciously in my direction.

It shrank to normal proportions then, as his second step was truncated by further shouts in the distance. He paused only to take another quick glance about himself before turning back to his fellows with a nod.

"This room is clear; let us go determine what the commotion is all about."

The pounding of feet muted with distance, and soon all that could be heard was the ever-present sounds of cricket noises.

I dared to breathe again.

"I-- I think it's safe," I whispered. "Stick with me; I'm leaving the belt activated."

With that we seemed to come to some sort of ungainly agreement, and began moving along together as though tied by short strings of fear. It didn't take us long to reach the last corridor... the one which ended in the open hatch.

That hatch stood deceptively open, a sliver of light coming in from the outside to partially illuminate the gloom.

I jumped as a pair of Sith brushed by, carrying some sort of object between them...

The bacta tank! Maybe our plan was working, Khaandon be with us...?

A full five minutes passed before I dared motion the others forward, taking hold of Terrin's hand in the meanwhile in silent apology for my take-charge actions.

We crept to the open hatch... and stared down at the horde of Sith who ringed the ship. Some were standing at battle ready, others lounged like sandcats after a full meal.

I shot a look to the others.

"I don't think they can see us; do you want to case out the ship, or leave?" I asked, every muscle tense as a piano string, just asking for the release of running for my life.

But behind those eyes Phalomir’s spirit was alive.

Phalomir sat, legs crossed under him, on a velvet cushion. The room around him was draped in red curtains, and as he looked around he noticed no doors or windows. When his eyes returned to the spot in front of him, sitting on a cushion before him was an elderly Sith in worn robes.

“Am I dead?” asked Phalomir.

“Only as dead as you would wish,” came the reply.

“Then where am I?” Phalomir asked, an eyebrow rising.

“Your mind contains many secrets, and many answers. You will someday discover these truths. But now you are faced with decisions most foul, and dangers that bear no equal. For now, you are recovering from the attack. Do you know who I am?”

Phalomir thought a moment, then recognition crept into him.

“The Eye?” he asked. The old Sith smiled.

“I live within her, I shall protect her as best I can. But he will take her to his home, to the heart of all that is dark. The Dark Hall awaits you, and you cannot face him alone. You know what you must do, look inside your heart and face your destiny.”

“My—what, what am I to do?” stumbled Phalomir. The old Sith smiled and pointed to his left to the figure of Jharmeen, silently trying to mouth words.

Phalomir gasped, drawing in a long breath. He sat upright in a flurry.

“My lady!” he cried out, reality slowly edging its way into his mind. The vision of Jharmeen cleared, leaving the smiling figure of a female in its wake. He blinked several times, then cleared his throat.

“Where am I?” he asked.

She was letting a particularly close tendril of herself coil seductively into Ragorian when she was rudely interrupted by the appearance of several warriors. Murmuring apologies, they entered into the Dining Hall, and therein dumped the limp body of a Sith.

A Dark Lord.

Nearly upon their heels came Kelvendar with another warrior, bearing a bacta tank between them. They manhandled it into the Dining Hall, where they placed it against a far wall before bowing and taking a place in the shadows.

The halfling moved to the bacta tank, stared into it's depths, her eerily two-toned eyes narrowing to see the dim outline of... something floating there in its depths.

Returning to Ragorian, she poured herself out to him.

"What is this strangeness?" she queried.

"Do you know of it?"

Her questions were interrupted by movements on the couch; moaning, the Dark Lord was coming awake. Moving like a lithe and hungry carnivore, she was soon by the couch, but not without first going to the fireplace and taking the Sword into her deceptively delicate hand.

"My consort, your assistance. How do I stand against a Dark Lord? This is unexpected...."

But to Phalomir, she showed no such weakness. With all her might she swung the Blade, slapping the flat of it against his broad chest.

"Enough senseless blather!" she cried imperiously, shifting it in her hand to attack mode.

"You are in the presence of the Dark-- of the acting Dark Lady of the Warriors of the Sith; have you no manners to guide your actions in her presence?"

Holding the blade to his side and towering high above the halfling, he slowly realized he was in the dining hall. His confusion mingled with the growing alertness and sensation of dread.

He quickly sent his own reply the ShaRhylla's query.

"So this is the Dark Lord of the Armorers; this is Phalomir. This one i have met before, though briefly."

"I would advise you not to underestimate him, dear Lady, but also not to fear him overmuch. True, he may be a Dark Lord of the Sith, but he is one warrior, wheras you, milady, command your own might of both Sith Magick and the powerful All. In addition, you also ahve at your side all the magick power of Ragorian, every bit I can muster, and, I would assume ,the powers of T'elion and the Finger of R'lous as well."

"Therefore, I would think that with our combined strength we could indeed hope to stand against this Dark Lord. Indeed, would he truly be able to stand against us?"

Pausing a moment, he observed that the flat of his blade was resting against the palm of this powerful Sith.

"Now, milady, he continued to ShaRhylla, "As the Dark Lord is now in physical contact with my blade, I could enter within him, walk within his mind. While I would more than likely not have the strength to control him, I do not doubt I could learn more behind the powers, ambitions, and thoughts of this Dark Lord. If you would but give the command, I shall go."

Within himself, Ragorian felt the dark excitement within him began to rise and spread like a slow-kindling flame. This would, it seemed, be the first real test of his abilities against another in some time, and Ragorian was surprised to find that he looked forward to it. Indeed, he relished to opportunity. Chuckling darkly, he spoke to ShaRhylla yet again.

"And know that I stand ready to face this Dark Lord with you, my dear Lady ShaRhylla."

"Go, my dear consort," she sent silkily into the mind of He Whom She Had Chosen, impressed by his quick assessment and the calm assurance of his reply.

"Seek the truth..."

Her hand tightened, as if to draw strength from the Blade. But it was not within her grasp; knowing that he went with her full blessing and desire, she then turned her mind to the threat of the Dark Lord...

A threat which burst like a balloon in the wake of the words of her own Chosen One.

"Jharmeen?" she queried innocently, cocking her head in perplexion and going so far as to stick a finger in her mouth in mockery.

"Oh... you mean Mother.

"She is long gone, who knows where, gadding about while I am left to deal with threats to our people, is this, I ask you, such a manner in which a true Dark Lady must behave?

"To think--"

Whatever comment she was to make was suddenly nipped in the proverbial bud as the ranking Sith Captain she had sent forth to the spaceport appeared in the suddenly opened door to the Dining Hall. Noting the Dark Lord, who stood incongruously enough before the flaming ShaRhylla, the flat of a sword held between his hands, he rushed in to both defend and inform.

Coming between the pair, he drew his sword and spoke...

...but his words were meant for the Lady.

"My Lady, I bear terrible news.

"Your mother is dead, murdered in a manner most foul, her throat cut; the occupants of the ship which bore her body here languish in our dungeons even as I speak.

"Your command, my Lady?"

He turned his head to ShaRhylla and bowed to her, if not in actuality then by the manner in which his words were spoken.

Carefully feigned shock flooded her face.

For a moment she stood, weaving a bit from side to side. Then--

"Mother-rr-rrr!" she yowled in her own brand of mockery, even as that seductive tendril of her being reached out in triumph to Ragorian.

...Pausing, as he did, to take note of the words the Sith guard were speaking. He chuckled amusedly to himself as his mistress' delightful use of the shapeshifter was put into play, and the chuckle turned into an outright laugh at ShaRhylla's well-acted burst of despair, so opposed to the tendril of her triumph that coursed through Ragorian. He had a moment to send through her a tendril of his own satisfaction and delight at this development, then his attention was drawn away as part of his spirit entered the Dark Lord's mind.

Of course, he had been cautious about choosing an arrival point. he had not been doing this for over two centuries to be now caught unawares. He alighted silently in a dark, unused corner of the Dark Lord's mind, one to which his attention towards his own mind did not reach. Pausing a moment, he wound tendrils of his own self back to the part of him left in his blade, strengthening the connection between them so that he would have a quick escape route if danger arose.

After all, he was dealing with a Dark Lord.

As soon as his escape route was secure, Ragorian turned his attention to the mind he had now silently invaded.This Dark Lord's mind is a strong one, he thought to himself. And even more vast and mysterious than I expected. Control would be far too difficult to assert, if it even were to be possible. As such, my aim shall be to avoid detection. I shall simply learn as much as possible about this Dark Lord, this Phalomir.

His plan of action was firmly set in his mind, Ragorian set off moving slowly and cautiously, begining to venture into the vast halls the mind of Phalomir, Dark Lord of the Armorers.

"How dare you!" she gulped, letting fire and fury and rage and betrayal flood into her voice, carrying her words to him.

"How dare you come here, land here, carrying aboard your ship the remains of my poor mother--"

She choked to a halt, knowing her theatrics were allowed full vent, knowing she was perfectly safe. For after all, warriors loyal to her stood nearby, and hadn't she had the powers to command of which Ragorian had spoken?

So she allowed herself a bit of of display, to cover up her questing into Ragorian's dark mind.

"Tell me, my consort: have you discovered anything of importance in the mind of this one?" she questioned, all the while keeping up her carefully and skillfully maintained facade.

...and by something she thought to be a mere...

Thing.

But this thing was apparently alive, or at least sentient. Being carried to her as it had been from the mystery ship only made her even more wary of it, now that it was actually speaking.

It is only a droid, a portion of her mind tried to soothe her with, but she would have none of it. Such a quickly determined assumption could easily ruin her carefully growing plans; without waiting any further her hand shot out toward the bacta tank as she called upon the All to assist her.

Immediately the molecules of air above the tank vacated to either side of it, creating a veritable sliver of a vaccuum which outlined its length and reached upward perhaps ten meters.

Physics promptly obeyed... at least a directionally nudged form of it. The bacta tank began to rise quickly upward, pushed by the denser air which lay beneath it.

It stopped ten meters from the floor and hovered there like some kind of odd balloon.

Jharmeen was dead.

Everything he had lived for, his very existence, everything… It all centered around her. And now she was gone. It must have been the Master, Phalomir’s very father… He had attacked with some sort of draining energy, leaving Phalomir powerless to react. But then the bastard had killed her. Who knows what he done with Shayla, Panthar, Galen, and the others.

He vaguely remember the Eye, as if in a dream, telling him something of a Dark Hall. What could that be? Jharmeen seemed to be there, imprisoned. If she were dead, then perhaps her spirit was trapped there, somewhere in the Darker Realms, with the Master, and…

Roan.

‘Mother?’

The girl had said ‘Mother’…

Phalomir looked down at the girl, noticing for the first time her halfling features. She had the face of Jharmeen, interspersed with something else, something recognizable…
HIM.

Anger swelled within him. Phalomir felt something niggling in the back of his mind, as if some alien force was rooting around in his mind. He felt his powers rise, and as his eyes flashed a brilliant red he noticed also the device hanging from the girl’s belt, and his anger grew even more.

With a furious growl, he threw the sword across the hall, embedding it into the wall. His other arm swung out, catching the warrior off guard and knocking him to the floor. The arm that swung the sword flung out towards the girl’s throat, stopping just short of its mark and trembling in the air. One more jerk of his wrist and the girl's neck would be snapped. Hot red eyes bore into Sharylla’s very soul.

"Lord Roan is my father, and the one you call Jharmeen is my mother; they are the Dark Lord and Lady of this House, and as they belonged to each other in life, now in death they join together for all eternity."

She paused a moment, feeling the Finger beginning to warm against her thigh; one hand reached down to grasp it protectively, but she did not draw the weapon. Instead, although she was perfectly able to unleash the furies of the All against Phalomir, she merely continued on as before, her every aspect the epitome of mildness and sincerity.

Blinking, she widened her eyes and lifted her chin, trying to meet Phalomir's eyes with her own. All she could see was the underside of his jaw.

"But my dear Lord, there is no need for such theatrics! There has truly been foulness afoot within the ship that bore you here; clearly you were victim as well, for my warriors found you unconscious near my mother's cold, still body."

She stopped artfully, letting that image sink into Phalomir's heated brain.

"But if there is some means that you might retrieve my mother from her eternal rest, and if there is some small way in which I might help, why... I would be happy to do so.

"I would do anything to have my dear, dear Mother back--"

“Child, there is much you do not know of Lord Roan, but for now we will not speak of such things. For now, let us speak of you mother.”

He took his hand away from the girl and stepped back, his eyes briefly flicking to the Finger of R’lous.

“If she was indeed slain,” he said, choking on the last word, “then it must have been at the hands of a foul beast known as the Master. I have reason to believe that he wants me to follow him into the Darker Realms to save her soul, and for her I shall surely do it. There is a way, although it is very improbable now, to bring her back. I must try, don’t you understand?”

Phalomir closed his eyes, hardly believing the surreal quality of it all. He reopened them and stared at the girl.

"Perhaps if we wait, can follow some of these Sith back into the Temple, where we can look for the others or find Aeylmaar. I get the feeling that party who boarded the ship had no idea who the people aboard were...

...I mean, why the hell would those who know and are loyal to Graysith react to her comrades...and her own student...

I let the words escape on the barest of breaths, afraid to be overheard by the assumably keen ears of the Sith warriors.

"It doesn't make any sense to me; but yeah."

I cocked my head up to Terrin.

"I'm with you, sweets. There is something about all this that doesn't quite ring true; I think we need to find Aeylmaar as quickly as we can."

Wherever he might be in this whole, entire planet, came the naturally following thought.

Assuming he got here safely at all....

My dark thoughts were interrupted as a couple of the lounging warriors stood up with a yawn and blue comment or two in response to being approached by another pair. The four exchanged a few words in High Sith, then the first two casually picked up their weapons and began walking across the tarmac.

...and perhaps she was, for a moment. But in that same moment she stretched out to the Force, her very lifeline, and assessed all which had occurred.

Graysith had been taken, by the Master, from under their noses. They had landed here: a place they had left with Graysith, who had in turn left Salandaar in charge of all the goings-on. But with their return, they were welcomed with guards...guards who had found Jharmeen dead aboard the ship...

...somehow. But the Master had told them that Phalomir and Aelvedaar should meet him in the Dark Hall...

...so what was the sense in Jharmeen's sudden murder? And furthermore, why were she, Erik, and Panthar alive and imprisoned if these Sith believed that they had murdered their Dark Lady...

...and WHERE WAS SALANDAAR??? Why weren't they all in the scrutiny of the Sith right now? And finally, WHY HADN'T SHE FELT THE LOSS OF A FORCE CONNECTION IF JHARMEEN HAD BEEN KILLED, TRULY?

She would know it, deep down in her heart, she knew she would...

...so...

"She's still alive; we have to get out of here," Shayla suddenly whispered into the dank chamber she, her husband, and Panthar had been thrown into. Then, without any further explanation, Shayla stood, and began walking the perimeter of their dark and dank cell, running her hand along the mossy, moist walls.

"I am ShaRhylla," she said, her eyes flashing, just once.

"JhinDarra is my-- s-sister."

Then she sagged, her royal bearing fleeing to the wind. One hand came up and touched a pearly horn that peeped out from her wavy, fiery tresses.

"My father is-- was teaching me the Ways of the Warrior; Mother had told me that my Sith blood endowed me with their magicks. She was teaching me some of its use, but I do not recall that I have had that many lessons."

Now her frown grew quite sincere, for indeed she had no real childhood from which to recall lessons and play and love and joy. Only sudden memories of her strong and wildly loved father, scattered throughout with images of her mother.

That something else came at her beck and call, something she did not need to learn to use, something inherent to her very being, part and parcel of every atom of her body... of this, she made no mention.

"I-- I don't know how I might help; I know only a few paltry tricks."

Now she waved to the suspended Pod, shadowed with the outline of its mysterious occupant. Then she shrugged.

"I am really quite good with a sword," she finished before falling silent, letting her eyes grow wide and soft while, carefully hidden within her very soul, a dark and noisome portion of herself raised its head and howled with gleeful laughter.

Phalomir’s thoughts shot to Galen, and the reason for her fear and hatred of Roan. He could feel the anger rise inside of him, and quickly squelched it as best he could.

But then this one was being taught by Roan, which makes her dangerous indeed. The thoughts he would have placed in her head… But Jharmeen would not have known of Sith magick, not so much as to teach this one. If she were to learn any such magicks from Jharmeen, it would have been the use of the All. She told me that the All is passed on to her offspring, and if this girl is truly the product of both Jharmeen and Roan, then she has been telling me half-truths. And the way she speaks of Roan, she seems proud to be his daughter… which makes me not trust her.

“I believe you may help indeed,” Phalomir said calmly. “But I need to speak with someone first, it is vitally important. Please, can you take me to Salandaar?”

Rykounagin felt myself pass through fully, and felt a small breeze. "So he sent me to a room?" He chuckled. "Father, you have such a sense of humor that I will never understand." He calmed and took stock of his situation.

By experience, he knew direct assault would not work again, and it would most definately work to his advantage to remain unnoticed. He went too the door and put his ear to it, keeping his cloak close to his body, it's edges stiring slightly from the breeze.

He heard nothing in the corridor beyond, and pushed the door open slightly. "THe best place to remove it from her possession would be to take it from her in her slumbers, so to her chambers I shall go..." He crept along the passage with unnatural silence, and felt himself rise upwards along the passage slowly.

Panthar stepped up to the odious-looking wooden door and felt along the edged with his good hand. The small hole in the upper center allowed him just enough angle to see the chain draped across the door, and the bolt that was slid on the side.

“Well, there’s a chain and bolt out there. The door itself is thick, but I bet the hinges are old enough to break if I hit it hard enough. It will be more difficult with only one hand, though. If I could get the leverage, I might be able to push it with my whole body and do some damage. If only we had a way to slide that bolt out first…”

Panthar looked to Shayla thoughtfully.

"Why would you wish to speak to an underling?" she questioned, cocking her head innocently to one side.

"For now that both my father and mother are dead, I am Dark Lady of the Warriors. This is my Entitlement to Inheritance."

She held out her hand, clearly displaying the cross-hatched tattooes combining the Houses of Roan and Recinis embellished upon her wrist.

“Very well, milady,” Phalomir bowed his head to the girl, then raised it. “Please forgive my ignorance of your true identity. Allow me to formally introduce myself, then. I am Phalomir, newly anointed Dark Lord of the Armorer Clan. Your mother is – was – very close to me, and I hope the bonds of friendship carry forth between our houses. At the time of my last visit, Salandaar was charged with a task while your mother and I were away, and I wish to speak with him regarding that task. With your leave, of course.”

Phalomir’s eyes again went to the object hanging from ShaRylla’s belt.

That she herself really had no idea as to what it was, that in turn was beside the point.

"The Dark Lord of Armorers," she said, lowering her lashes then and tilting her head respectfully. Raising her chin, she looked up into Phalomir's eyes.

"Are you of the House of Rean, then?"

He looked about the chamber, it's large bed and such around the room, and quickly decided to hide out upon the balcony for her to return and go to her slumbers. He went to the balcony and cloaked himself carefully against the wall to the side of the entryway onto the balcony, looking out across the city.

"Curious, they seem to have built or acquired a large vessel...." He murmured, looking at the massive ship. "It does seem familiar somehow...." He shrugged it off, for such distractions could only hinder him in his task to steal the axis.

Phalomir paused.

What house indeed? Phalomir was taken aback by the lack of anything to say. As far back as he could remember, which in truth was not that far, he had always been simply “Phalomir”. He could not recall even his father’s full name, as little as it meant now. A dark shadow crept over his thoughts, making the second seem as long as the day.

Finally, in the back of Phalomir’s mind came the whispered word “Jhin’Dar”. He blinked away the confusion and continued.

“—of no importance. I am the first of my line, bearing the entitlement through ritual of combat.”

He looked once again to the item on the girl’s belt.

“Tell me, what of the others who traveled with me? There were several humans, and two Sith. One of the Sith is the treacherous villain who committed the cowardly act of murder, while the other is my loyal companion, Panthar. I would assume the former would not be found, being well versed in the ways of the All, while Panthar would be causing a major scene.”

Phalomir hesitated once more.

“And may I make a request… an appeal from a tortured soul, if you will. I would wish to see Jharmeen.”

He cut off the startled look from ShaRhylla with a raise of his hands.

“Please, allow me this. The Master is most treacherous, I need— I need to be… sure. By saving her soul, I am very likely not returning, please…”

It was the magickal checks that had been most difficult, I had nearly died immitating death at those times, letting all air hiss out of my body, stopping my own heart, and putting myself into a near commatose state, but in my service I had not failed.

Still, once a suitable "replacement" has been created or placed to take my position, then I can leave and resume my duties to the dark lady. I let out a mental sigh, still unmoving upon the slab of stone, waiting to be "retrieved". How tedious....

She was aware that the three clans arose at a point far in the smoky past of the Sith, the segregation thereof being a natural result, over time, of the inborn magickal abilites of each individual Sith. Some, genetically speaking, were stronger than others in the use of their inherent powers, while others were more adept in things involving physical prowess. Thus it was that those, having had been determined by the ancient, pre-Triumvirate Council of Elders to possess tendencies toward a particular trait, in those early days were apprenticed into separate guilds. This process gradually changed over the course of history in that the guilds slowly developed into the three clans; gradually the appointments ceased and the Sith began to rely upon lineage to ascertain the clan membership of their young.

Thus it was that the Sorcerer's clan arose from segregating the Sith who were naturally adept in the wielding of their magicks, while the Warrior's arose from those who were physically strong, with more of a natural military bent in both their mind and spirit.

The Armorers, however... here the lines of obvious separation grew blurred. They too needed the mindset of the warriors, thus to more clearly understand what weapons would be of best use in the protection of the clans and the general populace. On the other hand, they needed strong magickal abilities, that such weaponry could indeed be created and empowered.

The question here was... how strong in magicks was this newcomer? Would he be able to see through the deception the halfling was carefully fomenting? Would Mask be able to hold his end of the deception?

But... what excuse could be given to deny him the privilege of going to the body?

ShaRhylla scoured her mind, seeking an answer to this dilemma, trying to find a speck of information hidden within the crevices of past instruction which might now come to her aid. None was forthcoming; apparently this particular pearl of wisdom had never been presented to her.

Then a new thought caused her to straighten up in pride.

What did it matter to her? She had others yet imprisoned within her dungeons upon whom she could call for answers; if this Phalomir proved a threat to her for any reason, didn't she have the All, and the Finger of R'lous, and T'elion, and Ragorian to assist her?

She smiled, and bowed her head.

"Of course," she said simply, then clapped her hands together in a manner far too imperious for a young halfling of her age. A Captain of the Warriors materialized before her.

"Take this... guest to the receiving room in which my poor mother lies in state, that he might pay his respects to her.

"For such I will not deny any Sith."

The latter words, though apparently spoken to the respectful Captain, were clearly meant for other ears.

She bowed her head, and watched as the Captain rose from where he had knelt, to turn to Phalomir. ShaRhylla pointed.

"M'lord, if you will accompany him...."

He could not understand why ShaRhylla allowed the slayer of her father to walk "free" within the halls where he had ones commanded those within. How she could even stand his very breath tainting the sanctity. She must have a reason, it is just that I cannot see it in my blind service.

Kalvendar inwardly sighed and continued to stand attentively, wondering how someone who had been so intimate with the previous dark lady could not hope to be able to find the truth about the late dark lady.

Sorta like old times, came a random thought.

But Terrin had little time for such thoughts. He remained focused on the Sith ahead and where they were going. In little time they could see the grand Temple of Kee'l Doba in view, and now fully alive...

...something which, the last time Terrin had been here, had yet to come about. He shot a sidelong glance Galen's way, one which clearly read a simple, Whoa baby. Then he directed his eyes forward again.

"Should we follow them all the way in, and see what they are up to...

...and who's in charge...

This place is huge!

But then... the thought of inadvertently stumbling into the heart of these guys' barracks didn't exactly warm the cockles of my heart either.

So I just held up that warning hand and shook my head, and continued to shadow the pair, every so often reaching down to make certain my belt was still activated which, thank Khaandon, it was...

The temple hulked over us, looming like a thunderhead as we approached. I trembled once, then took hold of Terrin's hand even more tightly as we followed the warriors up the stepped sides to the apex where the familiarity of the courtyard welcomed us. I didn't have time to do more than glance around, memories rising even more strongly within me, but hurried on after the pair, who had picked up the pace a bit. We crossed the courtyard and entered into a small, stone door on the far side of it.

The shadows of the Grand Foyer swept down upon us like hawks, gliding and playing about the myriad stone pillars that held this place in mystery. I gulped, gluing my baby browns to the ornate, carved doors in the distance, willing that we pass through them. For not far on the other side, as I recalled, was the Dining Hall; perhaps we could find somewhere to slip away and hide there until night fell and we would be more free to creep about the Temple of the Warriors.

However... so much for luck and angels who watch out over fools such as ourselves. The warriors had only proceeded about a fourth of the immense distance separating us from those doors when they made an abrupt turn to starboard.

I had a fraction of a second to react; gripping Terrin's hand so tight I whitened his knuckles I jerked to a halt, slamming us against the nearest stone pillar, hunkering there in the gloomy shadow it made.

Quiet thumps informed me that the others had done likewise; in the distance, the cadence of the warriors' booted footsteps gradually faded into obscurity.

I waited a moment longer, then dared to breathe.

"Ok, everyone all right?" I asked, glancing around, counting noses.

All accounted for; I took in a deeper breath.

"Okay," I repeated in a soft whisper, for the acoustics of this place were truly tremendous. Not wanting to press our luck, I merely raised a hand and pointed to those double doors.

There was only one way he could think of they might get in them without being noticed. What they needed was for someone to come in or out those doors so they could slip inside...

And he was just about to open his mouth and communicate this thought when, as if on cue, the grand double doors began to open, slowly yet with definite purpose.

...perhaps replacements?...

...began to march out, spears in hand. Terrin couldn't help but wonder exactly where they were going, and what they were doing...

...but he dismissed the thought, keeping his attention on the still-open door. He was keenly aware of Galen's momentary hesitation...

...as well as her brief glance to her boots before she began to move. Her thoughts read loud and clear...

...and he couldn't agree more. Just as they approached the door he rose his free hand, motioning for them to stop, as his back went against the wall of the Temple, right next to the still-yawning doors.

If they didn't want to blow their cover right away, everyone's boots were going to have to come off...

He pointed downward to his own boots, reaching and slipping one off, knowing that everyone would get the idea and follow suit...

...hopefully quickly enough that they could get inside those doors before they began to close...

They rounded several corners, taking a strange route to the receiving room. As Phalomir’s suspicions grew, they were quickly acquiesced as the captain opened a small side door that led to the correct hallway. A shortcut, or a path that would allow the fewest eyes to view the Dark Lord, Phalomir was not sure which he been led through. He followed the captain into the receiving room.

Phalomir paused at the entrance, momentarily overcome by the scene within the room. Servants were busy lining rows of flowers along the floors, forming a circular pathway through the room. The path would lead visitors around a large dais in the center of the room, illuminated by spotlights in the ceiling and focusing on the still body of the Dark Lady. An ornate gown had replaced her black form-fitting clothing, and her throat had been covered with a silky scarf. Phalomir swallowed hard and walked to the platform.

He stood staring for a full minute, not thinking. He took in her features, her beauty, his mind emptying of thought. His lungs involuntary gulped in air, bringing his mind back to the present. By all appearances, this was indeed Jharmeen. The weight of the worlds seemed to lower down upon his mind, and his body seemed suddenly too heavy to move.

But he managed to move his hand to hers, taking her small fingers in his own. He caressed the dull glyph on her forehead, and in a final gesture bent to kiss her cold wrist. A tear trickled from his face as he neared her arm, landing upon the mark of entitlement on her wrist that showed her heritage and right to hold the title of Dark Lady.

The mark of Q’utaro…

But Jharmeen had divorced Recinis, Phalomir himself had witnessed the change in the mark of entitlement.

Phalomir wiped his face and gently lowered the limp arm back the body. His mind raced, fueled by hope. He reached out into the body with a tendril of magick, probing, searching. Soon he had his answer, and as another tear flowed from his eye – albeit this one born of hope – he backed away and turned to the captain.

“Thank you for allowing me a moment,” he said, wiping his face with a finger. “The new Dark Lady will need much guidance, and I wish to assist her in bringing the killer to justice. This must not go unpunished. I must visit with Salandaar, please.”

Did I err in my visage? Did I.... Suddenly I knew how I must have erred. The mark, somehow there must be something near it! I inwardly moaned, knowing that he must know what had happened to some degree, that tingle of magick that even I had been unable to escape.

...but I don't know about going upward like we did in the Temple at Khar Delba. There we had a shot at that because the ceiling was already cracked, but this one..."

Here she trailed, looking up and surveying the prospects, "...it looks very solid," she finished. "I"m going to give the bolt a try..."

Quieting then, Shayla closed her eyes and reached out, feeling for the bolt with nothing more than her Force senses. For several minutes she stood silent and unmoving, til she found it...

...and with quite a bit of effort, tried to wiggle the bolt free.

No luck.

Finally, with a great sigh, she opened her eyes. "It's been jammed or something," she said, taking a deep breath, "I can't get it. But..."

Here she trailed, eyeing first Panthar then her husband as the wheels in her head began to churn. "Maybe if I put some pressure on the bolt, and you and Erik put some force on the door...

Nodding then to Erik, he placed his good hand upon the right side of the door and leaned heavily into it. Erik took a similar stance on the other side, and paused to look at Panthar. Panthar nodded, then threw his weight against the door, dropping his hand and bearing his shoulder full force into the heavy wood.

Panthar felt the ancient door creak from the pressure, but the bolt on the outside remained in place, providing just enough support to keep the door from moving. Panthar strained his head around to look at Shayla, who was preparing to work on the bolt itself. He turned back to concentrate on the door, hoping Shayla had enough power to move the bolt.

"The Dark Lady did not give me leeway to grant you any such request--" he began, just a bit on edge to be caught between his loyalty to ShaRhylla and respect for a Dark Lord, when his dilemma was suddenly resolved.

"That will be enough; you are dismissed."

The voice ringing out from the shadows was riven with authority of its own making, a calm assurance that carried its owner out to face the startled Phalomir.

The aquamarine-eyed Sith approached the captain and Phalomir, his clawed hand raised both to dismiss the former and greet the latter. His silken robes of state whispered about his tall, lean frame as he came to a halt in front of them, but he didn't speak another word until the captain had bowed and departed.

"I am Salandaar," he said simply, letting his gaze cut to the closing door and then back to Phalomir.

He cocked his head to one side, studying him admittedly with not a little curiosity. His questioning facade disappeared behind a frown then, as if he was trying to recall something from some time ago.

He straightened up even further.

"What is it of which we must speak?"

“I am Phalomir, newly arisen Lord of the Armorers… and dear friend to Jhar—to Dark Lady Graysith.”

His stare lingered a bit longer, then Phalomir glanced at the unmoving body. His eyes returned to Salandaar.

“We have never been properly introduced, though I have seen you upon many occasion. Please, walk with me a short way. Although it is an unbecoming trait, I find it difficult to speak without a tremble so near to my departed friend.”

Phalomir walked to the doorway, side by side with the acquiescing Salandaar. Phalomir lowered his voice and leaned to Salandaar.

Then he blinked.

Once.

"Indeed, the sight of my beloved Lady is painful for me as well," he said in a carefully measured tone of voice.

"I have been standing in vigilance beside her since she was brought here; perhaps it would be best if I go to partake of some air."

He nodded his head imperceptibly, then let an expression of utter repose flash quickly across his face. It was quickly masked by one of carefully contrived grief.

"I find the courtyard a refreshing place to be in time of sorrow; the lights of the city below shine out in promise of new beginnings..."

Continuing on in this idle manner he began walking, not deigning to see if Phalomir was coming along or not, knowing in his heart that the giant Sith most certainly was. Head held high, chin trembling ever so slightly, his aquamarine eyes tear-filled pools of moisture, he continued on, out of the Reception area, down the corridor, past the Dining Hall, through the Grand Foyer, until at last he exited the temple and came out onto the courtyard.

He didn't hesitate but headed straight toward the immense stone balustrade that ran the courtyard's perimeter. There he stopped, laying his hand on the cold stone to lean out into the night.

A soft breeze riffled his hair, ruffled his robes of state. He leaned out farther into it, closing his eyes, sensing the presence of the Dark Lord behind him.

"That is not my Lady," he said softly, abruptly, then turned his head to face Phalomir.

"There is indeed treachery afoot, my friend; may the gods help you if you are a part of it."

He assumed it was the mark, something was wrong, but knowing not what it was, he couldn't change it to adapt... there had to be some way to make it impossible to identify. He sighed inwardly, it was going to hurt.

He let one of his nails sharpen and harden, and drove it to a corner of the mark, and began running his "blade" of a finger through the mark over and over, until the mark was a blob of torn flesh, mangled. So tempting to leave a message, but it's suspicious enough....

Phalomir glanced at the sword in Salandaar’s hand, then looked back to his face.

“Much has happened since we last left this place. There is a conspiracy against her, but for lack of physical proof I shall not make accusations against any other Dark Lord. I fear Jharmeen has been taken by a creature of the Darker Realms, perhaps in league with someone in the very ranks of the Sith. I believe this is an attempt to lure me back into that land, and I shall go.

His eyes narrowed just the tiniest bit.

"They have been escorted to the dungeons; I can take us there but it must appear to be a visit worthy of those who are held in suspicion of murder," he said in a low voice.

Nodding meaningfully to Phalomir, he stared deeply from beneath his brows into the green eyes before him.

"Only to this end can I authorize a visit..."

He turned his face back into the quickening breeze and the night, closing his eyes once again, but not in the least bit dismissing the giant Sith lord from his awareness.

"The very walls have ears..." he breathed, then fell silent once again.

Hunkered against the wall, I had just silently removed one long boot -- no mean feat, that -- and was sticking it under my armpit so as to have both hands free to remove the other when one of the warriors barked out something in High Sith to his fellows.

They immediately formed parallel ranks, two lines as straight as my grandmother's morals, and with a snappy move turned to face each other. The closing doors flew open once again, but this time only two Sith came through.

One was tall, dressed in heady robes of state; the other was--

Phalomir?!

I almost spit his name aloud, but bit my tongue just in time. Which wasn't easy, let me tell you, since my jaw was laying somewhere in the vicinity of my feet.

I turned wide eyes to Terrin, to see him looking just as surprised as I was. Not daring to even whisper anything, I jerked my head toward the pair's receding backs, and gave my shoulders an imperceptible shrug.

Then I just stood there, one boot on, one boot off, holding my breath for--

Ahh. There they go now....

It was all I could do to keep from letting the breath I was holding out in a gigantic whooshhh of relief as, Phalomir and his companion having passed, the warriors broke rank and headed on their way.

Presumably going off to follow the others, I thought, and smiled to see my hunch once again proven -- apparently -- correct as they turned off in the direction in which the other warriors had travelled and soon disappeared into the gloom.

Behind us, the cadence of booted feet grew quieter and quieter, the echoes produced less ringing, less echoing as Phalomir and pal approached, opened, and then moved on through the door leading out into the courtyard we had traveled through just moments before.

Now I did sigh in relief.

"Well?" I asked the others, still keeping my voice low, arching my brows.

"Shall go dog Phalomir's trail, or do you really want to go traipsing about Khaandon alone knows where in this monster of a temple looking for the others?

"From what I can recall of it, it's really easy to get lost here. Remember, Terrin?"

My smile dimmed just a tad wee as memories of the last time we had been here came flooding back, empty city, Aelvedaar and all.

“Then I request an audience with the accused, I would certainly wish to ascertain the truth of what transpired, since I was apparently unconscious when— when my lady was murdered.”

Even though in his heart Phalomir knew that it was not Jharmeen that lay motionless in the receiving room, the words still caught in his throat.

Then, quickly getting his boots back on--and making certain that everyone else got theirs back on as well--Terrin stepped out closely behind Phalomir and the Sith, knowing that Galen, Matt, and Jasyn were falling in as well. They got near the courtyard where Phalomir and Salandaar stood talking just in time to hear:

"That is not my Lady," he said softly, abruptly, then turned his head to face Phalomir.

"There is indeed treachery afoot, my friend; may the gods help you if you are a part of it."

Standing in silence then, Terrin stood listening to the conversation which followed, wondering just what Phalomir and this other Sith were talking about...

...along the push both Erik and Panthar were placing upon it as well...

...would be enough. The moments seemed to turn into seemingly endless minutes...

...and at last, an audible snap

Shayla's eyes flew open just as the door began to give way. She nodded towards the door as her two companions realized what was happening as well.

...embedded quite deeply, he noticed. This Phalomir was truly not to be underestimated.

Pulling himself together despite his sudden weariness, he watched the events unfold around him; Phalomir threatening ShaRhylla, her reply, Sith coming and going with much discussion, until one he recognized, one called Salandaar finally came forth, and Phalomir followed him from the room.

For what reason, Ragorian knew not. And he did not like not knowing.

Reaching out, he again touched ShaRhylla's mind and spoke to it.

"My apologies for my silence, my mistress," he purred. "In his sudden fury, the Dark Lord repelled me from his mind so forcefully that I was...stunned momentarily."

"I seem to remember him threatening you," he continued. "Are you all right, milady? Whither does this Phalomir go with Salandaar?"

The hallway was indeed empty. Panthar moved quietly down the wall, keeping his back close to it as he sidled. He came to a corner and paused, quietly taking in a deep breath and ducking his head quickly around and back again.

Panthar recalled the scene he saw. In the hallway around the corner was a Sith warrior holding a spear. There was only one, and the warrior was facing the other direction, as if to stop anyone from entering the cellblock. Panthar took in anther deep breath, closed his fists tightly, and hoped he could reach the warrior before he knew what hit him.

Panthar moved quickly, springing from around the corner and bringing his fist up into a strike to the warrior’s head. In the brief second before impact Panthar noticed the warrior had not moved at all, and as Panthar’s powerful fist connected with the back of the helmeted head, the Sith warrior flew forward and sprawled to the floor. Panthar stood quietly over the warrior, then bent to make sure that he had only been knocked out.

Panthar felt a slick wetness when he touched the warrior’s neck. When he pulled back his hand, it was covered in blood. Panthar then noticed the floor was also covered in blood, and cringing, rolled the warrior over.

He recoiled, wiped his hand on the damp wall, and turned back to where Shayla and Erik stood waiting behind him. He held up his hand to them.

--the fact remained that she was young and untried. Indeed, considering her past, she hadn't been in the universe long at all; a young one of her age would have more innate ability to manage matters, simply because of having had the advantage of living through the years he or she had.

ShaRhylla had not. Born scarce years ago, artificially aged, she had not the maturity nor wisdom, however sparing, that comes with the passage of time.

To tell the truth, having set into motion something she could only see at a moment's notice, she now hadn't the slightest idea of how to continue with it.

Strategist she most definitely was not.

She frowned, then drew in a breath of air, trying to draw with it some semblance of a thought as to what she should do. Then an idea struck her.

"Ragorian, my pet," she purred into his mind. "Your concern for me warms my heart. But...

"I find I am needing a bit of... assistance. I need your help, help that no one can give me but you.

"I need eyes to watch over this Dark Lord... as well as over Salandaar to whom he keeps wishing to speak; let this one--"

She pointed a dainty claw toward Kelvendar.

"--take your essence back into his presence, and when you come upon Salandaar enter into him. Find out what the Dark Lord knows; is the deception complete? Are there others loyal to mother?

"Follow in the pathway of the strategist that you are; in this regard I, however, find myself somewhat lacking.

"I need the assistance of my father; the Dark Lord spoke words leaving me to believe he yet exists. Find the answers for me, my friend, that I may go to him myself and seek his counsel and wisdom."

With that she took up the sword and moving quickly, went to Kelvendar and placed it in his hands.

"Keep your link with me, my consort; or enter into my being as well if you desire. We must not become separate from each other; this is of the direst importance."

Now she reached out and placed a hand on Kelvendar's shoulder.

"Now you are to prove by actions how true your loyalties are to me, my warrior," she said simply, squeezing until her claws pierced his armor and flesh, and drops of bright Sith blood welled up to soak into his robes.

"Carry this sword and go to our-- guest. Tell him I grant him permission to speak with Salandaar, and seek him out.

"Show Salandaar this blade, let him touch it.

"Then return here to me."

He took the blade, looking for it, and wondered to what cause her objective was for Salaandar to touch it, but it was not his place. He held it delicately. "I shall carry out the task immediately." He bowed, and turned to leave the chamber, and go to find Salaandar, asking some of the guards of his whereabouts.

He chuckled. "Foolish me, it's never out of reach, just a little bit harder this time." He began sensing for his blade, and smiled, feeling that it was still embedded in the hearth. "So easy to reach." He slowly called it, and felt it returning to him, his faith in it calling it's immaterial form to his hand.

“Someone nearby is using a Sith device,” he whispered. “I can sense it.”

He turned his head from Salandaar, reaching out with his feelings, letting this strange new sensation guide his eyes. Finally he paused on the space from where the sensation seemed to emanate, and stared coldly into the seemingly empty air. Not caring for stealth, he simply lifted a finger and pointed at the spot.

“There,” he said. His hand began to glow, steadily and quickly increasing in intensity, as he prepared to incinerate the area.

But every red flag and warning bell was flying and waving and clanging frantically within me.

I didn't wait to discuss this in committee.

"Wait!"

The word scrabbled from my mouth even as my fingers scrabbled at the device on my belt. I hit a hidden switch, and we popped into view like a space slug popping out of an asteroid.

“We appear to located Galen and the others… most of the others.”

He took a few steps towards Galen.

“It is good to see you,” he said quietly. “Come this way, all of you, and keep your voices down.”

Phalomir walked back to the shadows where Salandaar still stood.

Listen without reacting; who in Hell's Seven Circles does he think he is...?

Then the words he had followed that supercilious statement with crashed into my head; I clenched the fist I had made until my knuckles whitened.

Along with my face.

"Jh-Jharmeen--? D-dead?"

My mouth dropped uselessly open then as an image formed in my head, one of her laying supine, silent, pale and still, her hair flaming about her, that weird thing on her forehead forever stilled.

I should have been bursting into tears. I tried to cry, really I did.

Only I couldn't.

My eyes widened further, and I searched inward to find the truth behind that remarkable reaction, or rather, lack thereof.

But sure as Khaandon made lil green worrts, the grief and agony and despair and pain which should be flooding through me at the revelation simply wasn't there.

Not one speck of it.

I shook my head again.

"I- I don't believe it," I managed to stammer at last, shooting a glance to Terrin before returning my gaze to the Dark Lord. Something I read in his face made me straighten up.

"I thought your dear ol daddy yanked her off to the Darker Realms; why on earth would he go through all that bother only to kill her and leave her on the ship?"

I shook my head, more slowly now.

“That concurs,” he said, blowing out a breath. “I regained consciousness in the presence of ShaRhylla, who has assumed the position of Dark Lady. Whatever body is down there is not Jharmeen. I do not accuse ShaRhylla of anything, but I certainly have my suspicions, as does Salandaar here.”

Phalomir looked off into the distance.

“But now we have a mystery to solve here, while at the same time the Master holds my lady in the Darker Realms.”

He turned back to Galen, and looked from her to Salandaar and back as he spoke.

My fist unwound even as the arm upon which it had been perched reached toward Phalomir, the fingers reaching in turn out to him. Whether the gesture was meant to be pleading or a warning, I really couldn't say.

All I knew was that my friends, the flock of geese who were wont to tromp up and down my spine when the going got rough, had flown in with several gaggles of their buddies; feeling only mildly ridiculous I waggled my fingers at Phalomir.

"You can't be serious; c'mon now, you remember that place, that horrible, awful place. You know what is there--"

Not to mention who.

"You can't possibly be serious about going there by yourself! Phal, there are demons there, they like to rip and chew people; R-Roan is there; what are we supposed to do here alone without you? Terrin--"

I jerked back to my husband, my one hand still hanging out beseechingly -- if not stupidly -- toward the Dark Lord.

"Talk some sense into this guy, will ya? He can't go, not alone, not now; he just cant!"

How was I to persuade him to stay? What words would make him listen?

For rising up from the army of goose bumps that squawked and rambled and rampaged up and down my back there came one of my oh-so-familiar feelings; not so much a feeling, this time, but a certainty.

If he went into that hideous place, he just wasn't going to come back.

And then we'd lose them both.

Sure as there's Treasure on Roon.

...well, it's rather like you serving yourself on a silver platter to Roan and the Master. The Master has taken the Dark Lady to the Darker Realms with the clear intent to pull you there is well; if you go there alone he'll have you for certain...

...and well then not only will we lose Jharmeen, but you will be lost as well. The group needs to stick together...

The portal hissed shut as Skarwael pulled his tail into the realm of light behind him, and chuckled quietly, seeing the flowers beneath his feet rot and decay as soon as he touched them. "Yessss, so good!" He chuckled a bit more, then looked around, hunched slightly, as saw the same woman he'd left behind lying upon an alter.

"Hah, faker!" He chuckled before skittering over to stand on the small alter, crouching over "graysith". "Faker." He chuckled, then proded the corpse with a finger before remembering his duty, looking up towards the exit to quickly and glance about the hall.

"Phalymir! Where are yousss?" He whispered excitedly, loving the scent of fresh warm and innocent blood in the air.

And the scent of corrupt blood as well.

Then before I really thought about what I was saying, I continued quickly.

"Or we stick with you. We're in this all together, buddy, and if you recall there is another one here -- somewhere -- who is willing to help us."

I paused a moment, wondering how in Hell's Seven Circles we were ever going to find Ayelmaar; then with a little sigh I let my arms drop.

Sometimes you can only say so much, letting the real impetus in the decision-making process spring forth from an obliging silence, just waiting to be filled.

And he suddenly felt helpless.

He opened his eyes again, the lights focusing back into crystal clarity. Yes, there were those who could help. He had already found Salandaar, and now he had rejoined with Galen and the others. Once they freed Panthar and Shayla and Erick, the search for Ayelmaar could begin. The treachery here could be directly related to Jharmeen’s capture, or perhaps it was a separate thread in a complicated story. Either way, the key to nearly everything was Jharmeen herself, and Galen was correct. He could not rescue her alone.

But he had not planned on a rescue. He had planned on a trade. But the Master had deceived them already, and what guarantee could he possibly give for Jharmeen’s safety?

None.

“I hate it very much when you right, Galen,” he sighed. “I will not go alone, not at this time.”

He turned back to Galen,

“Ayelmaar said he would meet us in the courtyard of the temple.”

He then faced Salandaar, who had remained standing in the same spot the whole time.

“Which is here. Do you know him? He is someone I trust, and has information for us.”

He paused, then turned once more to Galen.

“And we shall require use of the library as well. There is information there for Galen.”

“So, what, this is the start of a civil war of some kind? Someone wanting to overthrow Jharmeen? Who would even want that job? Plus, who the heck would be strong enough to take it from her? We saw her obliterate a whole demon army with that channeller thing of hers and… hey, where is that anyway?”

He gently laid the warrior onto the stone floor and looked back up the hallway.

“Maybe now is not the time to be talking it, you think? Looks like there’s only one way out of here, and if this is a some kind of setup then we’ll know pretty darn quick.”

Panthar picked up the spear and held it in his hands.

A door through which there was now creeping a living horror.

The Sith warrior spoke no further. He merely leapt toward the creature and before the vile little imp could flash away from him had plunged his sword directly into its chest, piercing deeply into armored skin and rippling muscle and into the flesh of its corporeal heart.

Green ichor spewed about him like a fountain, burning like acid when droplets of it struck against his flesh. He didn't even flinch but pressed his attack further, pushing all his weight against his sword, driving it deeper and deeper into the heart of the demon until the tip of it emerged from the other side and was driven deeply into the stone.

The thing writhed and flailed as Salandaar gave his wrist a final twist, screwing the razor-sharp blade half its length into the stone.

Then he staggered backward, panting with exertion, and only then discovered the grievous wounds he had received where the poisonous blood of the demon had struck him.

He swayed, then crumpled to the stones of the courtyard, the last thing he heard being the frantic yowls of the demon as it fought vainly to extricate itself from where it was pinned to the wall of the Temple like a bug.

I folded my arms, shaking my own.

"I know faint heart ne'er won fair maid, but Fates, Phal, faint brain never won anything! Y'know, it would do you good to--"

What I thought would be a great personal goal for the giant Sith to aim toward would never be heard, for suddenly Salandaar whirled like a dervish and took off toward the Temple.

All Hell literally broke loose there as one of those horrible creatures crawled out of nowhere... only to face the lightning reflexes of the Sith warrior.

Who staggered back, leaving said creature skewered to the wall, only to sink to the courtyard while next to the yowling demon the door to the Temple opened yet again.

A single Sith stood framed in the darkness there, looking just as startled as I'm sure we did.

Only our gaping stares were laced with more than enough fright to fill a story-teller's scariest tales.

"Oh kriffing hell, this can't be good...!" I muttered as I shrank back against Terrin and Phalomir, wanting to rush to Salandaar's aid but not wanting the Sith in the doorway to think that those wounds were caused, in any way, shape or form, by me or anyone else in our little party.

Then logic rose through rising trepidation and I slapped the enabling switch to the light-bending device I wore, plunging us into invisibility while I waited for someone to come up with a reasonably working emergency escape plan.

He wailed for a moment, completely ignoring everything but himself and the sword burried in his abdomen. He smiled then, opening his eyes through the pain to look at the bleeding sith below him.

Blood.

The word echoed through the chambers of his mind as he stared down at the slowly growing pool on the body of the sith below him, the wounds caused by his own blood. A double dish so to say.

Immediately, he grasped the blade and began excruciatingly hauling himself along it towards the hilt, the pain even greater for the fact that his normally highly resilient body was trying to heal over the wound, unable to do so for the blade.

"What in nine hells..." Kalvendar murmured, watching as Salandaar fell to the ground from wounds recieved by the acidic blood of the demonic creature, as even with the mortal wound it had recieved it pulled itself along the blade, hissing incorently, a chilling sound.

Kalvendar recovered from the shock mildly, and looked to where Salandaar had run from, where almost conspiratorily in a group stood a red haired woman who resembled so much the "late" graysith and ShaRhylla, with her red hair, and Phalomir, and a few others who Kalvendar did not seem to have any reconization from, when suddenly they were gone.

What in the nine hells was going on?

Kalvendar shook himself from the reverie he had watched it all in for a moment, remembering his task as he took a step forewards, giving himself the appearance of being stunned, and let the blade "sink" into Salandaars arm as though an innocent swing as he walked, holding it there for a moment before hoping his task was complete as he brought it away.

"Phalomir..." he murmured, looking to Salandaar and the demon before looking to where Phalomir had been only moments before. "Commiting to an assassin are we? But it's not dead yet... tough."

The surprised Sith warrior who emerged from the inner chambers was the very guard who had led Phalomir to the receiving hall. The warrior had apparently never faced such a foe, for he was standing much too close. He appeared to be giving some assistance to Salandaar, but not enough.

“You! Pull Salandaar away and stay out of range of that tail!”

The warriors wide eyes met with Phalomir’s, and then dropped to Salandaar. The warrior moved from Phalomir’s direct view, hopefully to assist the fallen captain. Phalomir raised his hands in front of him, his palms beginning to glow fiercely as the Sith magick coursed its way into his hands.

“Move again and I will scorch you into oblivion,” he said coldly to the demon. “And send you back to that horrid land that gave you birth.”

Phalomir stopped at a distance he hoped was out of range of the tail, his hands still raised.

He let out another wail, and saw with great happiness that it was Phalomir, threatening to banish him. Lower the happiness a notch.

Occisor let out a cough looking down at the sword before looking up to Phalomir, a most convincing and pleading (pitiable on most faces though with the right mood hysterical upon his) look upon his face.

As Kalvendar dragged him deeper into the shadows of the temple, the light of day replaced by the light of torches, his eyes widened, hearing the echoing screatches and testifications of of the imp, and he had to smile. So it isn't her, graysith, the body. But who is it then?

He shrugged it off, dragging Salandaar into the hall, to look to some of the horrified sith within. "Phalomir has allies, demonic ones and mortal. They've struck down Salandaar, just past this portal, and now some hide within a cloak of invisibility! Swiftly, gather up a party of warriors, we cannot let this atrocity go unavenged! Someone alert the lady ShaRhylla of what has occured, also inform her that the blade has touched his hand!"

He paused, watching as the sith absorbed his words and called commands. "Be swift, and bring medical aid for Salandaar! He is greviously wounded!"

“LIAR!” he shouted. “I should rip the tongue from your putrid mouth for daring to despoil her name! Jharmeen lies dead within the temple, killed by the Master. If he wishes to speak, then let him do it through his own lips. It will be the last thing he speaks!”

Phalomir’s eyes narrowed, the hate and anger washing over him, held in check only by the knowledge that this demon was his only potential link to where Jharmeen actually was located. But it was extremely difficult to not let loose with his magick.

He spoke through clenched teeth.

He must have moved Salandaar inside, or within range of Galen’s device, he thought.

“How can you expect me to believe this is true,” he said. “I have seen Jharmeen’s body, it is her. How could someone have faked such a thing? Why would someone do this?”

Indeed, that is the real question, Phalomir questioned himself. Who would stand to gain from the apparent death of Jharmeen? Certainly not the Master, and this is too mundane to be the work of Aelvedaar. No, there is a more conventional conspiracy afoot here. Something much more… political. Could there be a rift in the warriors? Perhaps between those faithful to Graysith and those who follow – who? Who could have had such a hold on the warriors?

Phalomir’s eyes narrowed, no longer searching for the warrior. He turned his gaze back onto the imp, his focus seeming to burn into the back of its head.

Roan. That is the answer.

“Speak, imp. What do you know of this?”

"Occisor doesn't knows much abouts the fakes one, just that it's fakes! Jharmeen dropped Occisor in that room, though Occisor isn't sure if she saw what was in its... it's trues though! Occisors touch killed the flowers in the room, and he could smell a different scent on that fakes one! Occisor knows nothing of why anyones would make a fakes one, perhaps to drives people into dispair without there beloved Jharmeens!"

He saw the unbelieving glare of a lover come from Phalomir and he couldn't help but shrink back slightly along the blade, his legs curling up underneath him in obvious fear.

"On second thought, maybe we shouldn't go anywhere...

..at least not unless we can get Phalomir to come along...

...and now." He paused, looking around the courtyard. "A weapon of any sort might be helpful too..."

She paused then, pursing her lips. "And as to just who would think they could overthrow Jharmeen...

...any idiot should know it would take nothing short of the All itself to do that..."

She trailed, frowning, not liking the implications of her words. "Let's get out of here..."

A group of Sith warriors muscled Kelvendar aside and picked up the wounded Second between them. Soon the shadows in the Great Foyer were joined with the sounds of their booted footsteps as they ran off to take their burden to the nearest Healer.

The Lieutenant watched them disappear into the gloom, his royal blue eyes darkening with the implications of what he had seen. Then he barked out another order; immediately a small squadron stiffened into marching ranks, weapons bristling.

He raised a hand, turned, and led them out into the courtyard, nearly stumbling in surprise to find a writhing Thing pinned to the wall practically next to the doorway, a glowering Phalomir seeming in conversation with it.

For a split second he paused, pausing his men along with him, torn, for here was a Dark Lord. But the evidence spoke volumes in his mind; after a quick and respectful bow of his head, he pointed his spear at Phalomir. His men left their position behind him to spread out, encircling the Sith Lord in a spear-toothed embrace.

"Halt, traitor!" the Lieutenant boomed, his courage returning once his men were in place.

"You are under arrest for the slaying of our beloved Dark Lady!"

He raised a hand to order his men to capture the Lord, but once again paused. This was a Dark Lord, after all, and should be given the chance to speak for himself before he was dragged off into the dungeons.

Phalomir’s anger burned once again, searing into the eyes of the demon at which he continued to stare. He let all of that emotion stay in his gaze, leveling his voice as he spoke.

“The Dark Lady is not dead,” he said, still staring at the imp. The words that formed in his mind seemed suddenly unbelievable, but he determined to speak them anyway. “She has been taken by creatures of the Darker Realms, such as this one. Salandaar captured it, and I am interrogating it.”

He held his gaze a moment longer, then turned to the lieutenant.

“Get moving, you!” he barked.

Scowling, Erick and Shayla obliged, moving down the empty hallway. Panthar followed, holding the spear up at an angle. They reached the door without incident, and Panthar moved up to inspect it.

The door was heavy, set upon ancient but well-oiled hinges. It was not bolted, and even stood slightly ajar. Panthar shoved it lightly, and door opened outward the rest of the way, creaking only slightly. He ducked his head out of the door and looked both ways, then ducked back in. His face paling, he turned to Shayla.

The Lieutenant spoke no further but simply waited to see if there was any truth to Phalomir's words. Next to him, the imp remained curled into a ball upon the spear, it's dangerous tail twining across its shoulders to lay against the cold flagstones of the ground beneath their feet.

It did not take the warrior long to return. He moved quickly into their midst and came up to his superior. Falling to one knee, his spear pointed toward the heavens as though to substantiate his words with those of the deities above, he lowered his face to the ground and spoke.

"The Lady lies yet in state... but the Tattoo of Entitlement has been scoured from her wrist!"

Not being allowed the pleasure of offering his personal thoughts as to what this might mean, he then rose to his feet and joined his fellow warriors, once again lowering his spear to point threateningly at Phalomir.

The Lieutenant frowned, watching him go; then he turned back to the Sith Lord.

“When I last saw the fake Dark Lady in that room, her wrist was intact,” he said flatly.

“I wish you no harm,” he continued, his voice softened a little. “Every minute we waste here is one more minute the real Dark Lady is in danger. I can offer proof, as can Salan—where is Salandaar?”

Phalomir for the first time noticed that Salandaar was no longer present.

...and after all, if he did, wouldn't he have come to get us?"

She trailed, her look for the most part totally unreadable...

...but not entirely. The traces of something momentarily flashed in their greeny-blue depths.

He sped down the corridor the doors opened onto, and soon gained the even more grandly decorated portal into the Grand Dining Hall. Bursting through, he shot a quick but encompassing glance about himself, and soon found the slim form of the acting Dark Lady of the Warriors.

Going up to her, he fell to one knee, a fisted hand across his chest. Speaking shortly and succinctly then, he told her of all that had recently befallen: how the troops to which he had been assigned had been abruptly approached by Kelvendar, who had informed them of the betrayal of Salandaar; how the troops had gone to apprehend the Dark Lord for this newest attack against their clan.

More importantly, how those under his auspices seemed to have managed to get their hands upon a Sith invisibility device, more than likely as a desperate means of protecting themselves from the strange demon who had come into their midst so unexpectedly.

"The Dark Lord seems to have accomplices within realms even more dark, m'lady," he went on, bowing his head more deeply as in closing he told her of the apparently odd little fact that her sword had been laid carefully against the flesh of the fallen Salandaar.

______________________________________

The Lieutenant's glare remained fixed upon Phalomir.

"It would appear that your presence here with the very demon that struck down the Second-to-the-Lady is most unfortunate... for your sake," he finally stated, the tone of his voice flat and unforgiving.

His forehead furrowed as his scowl deepened. His warriors, sensing this subtle turn-of-tide, pressed more closely, waiting orders to either skewer Phalomir, be he Dark Lord or no, or to prod him into the dungeons to wait until the acting Dark Lady decided what to do with him.

The Lieutenant's royal blue eyes cut quickly to the impaled imp; the creature remained quiet, non-combative, its hideous be-stingered tail laying as limp and forlorn as an old rag tossed into a garbage chute. It didn't move so much as a muscle in any attempt to extricate itself but simply hung there, every so often raising a pitiable face to seemingly stare directly into the face of the Dark Lord.

The Lieutenant pointed his spear at the thing.

"It seeks to attack you not, but hangs defeated, knowing you are such as well," he said ominously.

"Such as sometimes do warriors when their Commander has been killed in battle--"

He fell silent then, stone-still, wanting on one hand to take this Lord to the dungeons and be rid of him, but yet on the other unsure as to the practicality of doing so. After all, it was only at the suggestion of the lower-ranked Kelvandar that he capture the Dark Lord at all, not that of a Captain or any other official of higher rank.

High enough in rank himself to understand the oftentimes dark and convoluted twists and turns of Temple politics, and to know that circumstances in many cases might not be what they appear to be, he continued to keep Phalomir trapped within the ring of his warriors' spears.

I shall wait until the courier returns, he thought to himself, then strengthened the grip upon his spear and moved no more.

...yet those bi-colored orbs filled with a certain dark delight at the mention of the imp, a heinous pleasure whose origins she couldn't quite remember.

A compromise then: she frowned, considering next what to do.

My consort, your input is desired! she thought into the silence, reaching out for advice from Ragorian. But that worthy remained atypically silent, perhaps applying himself to the task of creeping within the mind and soul of Salandaar. Whatever the reason for his taciturnity, she received no reply.

Her eyes flashed again with the realization that the next move was hers alone to make.

But the last thing she needed was to alienate the Dark Lord; he would be far more useful to her if he continued to fall for the deception she was laying at his feet.

She raised her head, looked imperiously down her nose at the kneeling courier.

"Let the Dark Lord return here -- with careful honor -- to explain to me what has occurred to fell the Second," she stated, relishing the fact that Salandaar might have succumbed to his wounds by this time.

"And bring Kelvandar as well, should you find him!"

I frowned, hunkering against Terrin and trying to remain quieter than a shadow at twilight. Meanwhile my eyes were roving frantically for anything we could use as a weapon, my brain running circles for any inspiration as to how we could extricate ourselves from this rather sticky wicket of a situation and continue on to find the rest of our friends.

The dilemma was truncated as the door leading back into the Temple opened and spit out a single Sith. He moved quickly to the one who had been speaking with Phalomir, bowed, and spoke in a soft voice, but not soft enough that his words escaped our ears.

"This one is to be brought to the acting Dark Lady, to explain the events enacted here," he said. These words were followed by a quick salute before he melted back into the ranks of the ringed warriors.

The one in charge tilted his horned head to one side, seeming to contemplate matters. Then he raised a hand, barking out some orders; immediately the warriors raised their spears and backed off, to then move into a weird three-sided boxlike formation.

The open end was obviously an invitation as to which direction they wished Phalomir to move. I gripped Terrin's arm in a viselike grip.

"Now's our chance to get him out of there," I breathed into his ear, every muscle held in trembling red-flag alert, ready for instant action.

"We can whip in there, get him under our shield, and whip out and through before they know what hit them...."

Now was the time.

"It's risky," Terrin mouthed. Then, But it's about all we've got."

He paused, his gaze sweeping over both of his employees as well as Galen. Then he pointed Phalomir's way. "Jasyn and I will drag Phal out of there," he started, his mind spinning with the logistics. "Galen and Matt..."

He trailed a moment, a lopsided grin forming on his face to match his next words before it disappeared entirely to be replaced by a look of determination. "Once we get in and get to Phalomir...raise Hell...and keep an eye out should we need help getting our buddy to move."

Pausing for a final moment then, Terrin let his words absorb in everyone's head. Then he nodded towards the opening, as both Matt and Jasyn stepped in closer, almost reading his thoughts. "Now," he mouthed...

...and with a purposeful and quick and long-strided step, he got moving, the others on his heels. In no time they were in the center of the ring, still seemingly unknown to the guards who were surrounding Phalomir...

...who, as they moved in, disappeared from their sights. Terrin grabbed Phalomir's arm even as the shocked Sith guards started to move in. "Get moving!" he said, jerking his head as if to indicate the narrowing path out of the now-closing ring.

Thrilling to be able to be in action once again, I wasted no more energy in extraneous motion but channeled it all into succinct and fairly expertly applied blows. The Sith warrior to my immediate left, closing in on what looked to be empty air, simply had to be removed from the fray if we were to get out without actually physically ping-ponging off of one warrior or another; with a silent grunt I leapt up and applied a flying roundhouse kick to his face.

Well... let's say I tried to apply a flying roundhouse kick to his face; these guys are tall! Instead of impacting with the side of his head, as planned, the kick I delivered landed instead on his upper arm.

An arm he was raising in the middle of switching the spear from a one-handed grasp to a more threatening two-handed one.

Which he never managed to complete, due to said kick against his well-muscled upper arm.

Oww-ww-www--!!

I bit my lip to keep from crying out in pain, but through watering eyes saw that the impact did manage to wreak a modicum of havoc among the ranks. The Sith warrior staggered, his spear momentarily out of control, its deadly tip flailing about as he sought to gain control before it whapped directly into the face of his in-charging neighbor.

Who put on the brakes to keep his eyes in his head, literally; shouting in alarm, he planted both feet and ducked to avoid the razor-sharp tip of his fellow's weapon.

Next to him, another Sith yowled in rage as a horn-tip struck him... well, I couldn't see exactly where, but from the sound of his cry it couldn't have been in a happy spot.

I smiled grimly, ducked, stuck out a stiff leg and whirled, all in one motion. On my other side, the in-closing Sith let forth a grunt of surprise as, quite unexpectedly, an invisible something slashed into his ankle and felled him like a dewback. En route, he fortuitously took his neighbor along for the ride.

I couldn't help it; the exhilaration was too much.

"Enough havoc and hell-raising, Terrin?" I puffed as I reached out and lent my two hands to the task of hauling the utterly surprised Sith Lord along like so much flotsam caught in the wake of a ship.

In the ruckus and general brouhaha the door into the Temple suddenly loomed.

Oh what the hell....

Uncaring as to who might see what, I left Phalomir and, slipping by the now-writhing demon, ducked his tail and yanked open the door.

"C'mon, guys; let's try this one again!"

Fiddling with the device on my belt, I then extended the range so the light-bending field stretched out a mere five meters on either side of us.

"We're gonna have to switch into stealth mode again, and pronto, if we want to make this attack work--"

I said no more, for behind us the Sith warriors had regained not only their lost composure but their anger.

They were absolutely silent as they raged toward us....

...that Terrin didn't even dare look at...

...and hurried inside and immediately into the immense Foyer.

Terrin's baby blues widened as they took in the huge pillars, and his recollection of the place began to aid his plans for their stealth. Again he jerked his head in direction, this time towards one of the looming pillars nearby...not too close to the entrance, but not too far away from it either. After all, why go far, letting their booted footsteps tell the guards where they were?

Even as the group clustered behind the pillar for protection, however...another sound grabbed Terrin's attention, and not that of booted footsteps...

...but instead that of a door in the far corner and to the left creaking open.

Those senses were immediately bolstered as recognition registered, as well as did a pervading sense of anger.

"Panthar, Erik..." she said, coming to a sudden halt, "I sense the others, and they are very close by..."

Immediately as the squad of sith turned in their own pursuit, Skarwael brought his tail down upon the hilt of the sword, snapping it off, and hauled himself further along the blade until he was off of the painful length of metal.

He took a moment to let his abdomen heal and turned towards the scent of Phalomir's blood, which in his minds eye, was so heavy that even before his eyes the trail seemed to hang in the air.

He paused, drew in a deep breath, then held his hands up before him.

“No matter, the deed is done. The acting Dark Lady wishes to see me, I would like to oblige her. But on our terms, not hers. I am very suspicious of her, she claims that Jharmeen was murdered by me on board our ship, and her body is now on display in the receiving hall. But this body is not Jharmeen’s, the tattoo of entitlement was wrong.”

A shout from across the foyer caught Phalomir’s attention. Two Sith guards had broken from the larger group and were barking orders at another Sith who disappeared through an open door.

“ShaRhylla is Roan’s daughter… I have difficulty accepting this, but I have seen it. That alone brings great mistrust, and there is one other thing I wish to see her about. She has something that belongs to me—to Jharmeen, and I must retrieve it.”

A long growl from the opened door across the foyer once again brought Phalomir’s – along with the rest of the group’s – attention to that area. Phalomir’s eyebrow raised at the first sight of the two tuk’ata, and as fear tried to creep in he saw that the two were pulling along a warrior who was desperately clutching long leashes.

“Our options are quickly running out,” he said flatly.

Now, that's gratitude for you, I couldn't help but grumble to myself as Phalomir raised his hands up in front of him.

Here we go through seven kinds of hell to rescue him from being sent to the brig -- and don't tell me that's not where he would have ended up, no way in Hell's Seven Circles do I believe that -- but now he wants to go marching off into a veritable den of iniquity while our comrades pine away waiting for us to find them!

I opened my mouth to snap something right back at the big red lug, when the scrabble of something that could only be claws the size of my grandmother's cheesecake came wafting roughly into my ears. I whirled and peered around the pillar we were hiding behind, then pulled quickly back.

Tuk'ata! I mouthed with a silent moan.

Those suckers hunt by scent... and us without so much as a single bantha dropping to besmear ourselves with....

I shuddered, forcing back shudders even larger and quietly lowered myself onto my haunches.

"Well, what then?" I mouthed to Phalomir, knowing his keen hearing would pick up my words.

Without really thinking about it she placed a protective force field about it, one combining her inherent Sith magicks along with the All, that any matter coming close to it would be repelled as would be the like ends of a magnet, and any energy would simply be funneled off and away from it. Thus secure in the knowledge that Ragorian's "home" was safe, she turned back to the waiting Sith.

"I have been apprised of matters concerning the Dark Lord, Phalomir," she stated abruptly, both unwilling as well as incapable of leading into the subject with anything remotely suggestive of diplomacy.

"He was to be escorted here to me; but, I grow fatigued of all this hither and yon. I would retire for the night now; in my stead, I give you leave to greet the Lord when he is brought here and to keep him here and entertained in a manner befitting his station.

"I shall return in the morning."

With that she flounced from the room and departed to her chambers, to sink into slumber...

He swallowed hard and stared intently at the beast. The tuk’ata was sniffing the air, trying to catch the scent of the group.

“The larger one seems to be one of Jharmeen’s tuk’ata…” The tuk’ata’s long growl interrupted Phalomir’s words as it caught the scent and pointed its massive head in the group’s direction. Even from across the foyer, the beast sent chills down Phalomir's spine.

An idea struck him with the force of lightning. Not taking time to analyze the thought, he shook off the arms holding him and grabbed the shoulders of the men who had just seconds before been struggling to pull him along.

“To the receiving room, quickly!”

He pulled the two men closer, pushing them along in front of him as he then grabbed for Galen and Terrin.

“Invisibility be damned, move!”

Phalomir ran for the double doors that led to the other parts of the temple. Even as he ran, his magick was building to readiness to somehow slow down the tuk'ata who were probably already in pursuit.

Without a word, or undecided action, he took up the Axis, ignoring what he was sure to be a swift comming telepathic protest, and sealed it in a section of his armor, out of his physical touch, but well protected. He sealed a few magics to dampen it's "reach" around the prized object, and then took ShaRhylla and laid her upon her chambers bed.

He stood for a moment, silent and sentinal-like over her for a moment, contemplating how easy it would be to end one of Graysith's line forever at this very moment, but knew he could not afford the delay. He went to her doorway and lined the edges with a bit of swiftly hardening "glue-like-puddy" to delay the discovery of ShaRhylla and his theft, and then went to the balcony, making sure his "cloaking magic" was firmly placed.

"Of course the all knowing axis knew I would come. But then again, if you're so masterful in knowing such things, wouldn't you know who I was taking you too? But I'm nice, I'll give you a hint. I'm giving you to my father, one who you once tricked me into surrendering under the name of."

Take me not to your father, young one. Be true to yourself, keep me with you.

T’elion breathed deeply of the magick flowing from the very heart of the boy. Inherent magick was rare in one not of the Sith, and not since the days of the old world had he tasted Sith magick born of human. Yet Sith magick it was, and Sith magick was exactly what the Finger of R’lous craved. T’elion felt the Finger feed, siphoning the energies from the boy and storing them. T’elion felt the magickal energies the boy was holding in place begin to falter.

"You enjoy your game don't you?" He chuckled. "Seduce those with things you want into doing what you like, then when you're done with them, or will get what you truely want from someone else, you place your blade in their back and go to another, and play the same tune."

He held his breath for a moment as a sith warrior passed within a few mere meters of him, but breathed again after a moment.

"Like hellfire I'll betray my-" Then suddenly as though in a faint motion, his magic flared as Rykounagin seemed to faint, slumping back against the shadows of the wall. For a moment all was silent then...

The warrior holding the heavily studded leash that encircled M'wonBo'o's massive head dug in his heels and pulled. The quasi-intelligent beast on the end of the lead came -- at last -- to an obedient halt...

...but not before savoring the hot blood of the prey he had managed to catch.

The warrior ducked, cursing as the imp the tuk'ata had latched onto yowled and writhed, it's tail whipping dangerously back and forth. The tuk'ata crouched over it, the ten-inch claws of one forefoot pinning that flailing tail to the stone in such a manner that, while it did manage to whip about like reeds in a high wind, it could not whip or bend far enough to strike the animal that imprisoned it.

The warrior scowled, disgusted that his true prey was fast disappearing amidst the ghostly shadows of the pillars.

"Here, beast!" He yanked M'wonBo'o's tether.

"Back off; this is not worthy to be even a tidbit for a tuk'ata!"

Snorting his disgust, he wrapped the lead about his hand, once, twice, thrice; each wrap "walking" his hand up the lead until the tuk'ata was firmly held by a mere meter or so of strong leather. Now close to the writhing demon, the warrior took the only action he could think of.

His sword flashed once, coming to his hand.

It flashed again, this time neatly removing the threat of the poisonous tail neatly from the imps nasty little body.

The thing's howls rose in crescendo, joining with the still snarling tuk'ata, whom the warrior managed only by utilizing every bit of strength he possessed to pull off of his prey.

"There, beast; there is blood less foul for you; onward!"

The companion tuk'ata, erstwhile standing fastidiously by, now leapt forth, joining with M'wonBo'o in dragging their attendant Sith Warrior, as the threesome took off running once again in the direction the Dark Lord was heading.

He felt the stub slowly healing, but knew it would be a few hours at least before the stinger would be no more than a pointed stump. He growled, and scampered down the hall after the sith, and within a few moments leapt upon the siths back.

Unlike most beings, Occisor didn't settle for "an eye for an eye". He wrapped his vicious claws around the sith's throat, and bit onto the creatures horn, prying for a moment before tearing it off. "HOWS DO YOU LIKE PAIN?" He shrieked gleefully as he bit his own arm, spattering the hissing green blood upon the face of the sith.

Little spirit?

An insult! Yes, that is what that was. How refreshing…

A nanosecond later and the world exploded in the warrior's face as starstreaks and red curtains announced the not-so-neat removal of a horn from his head. Fresh agony then sprouted, lightning fast and seemingly simultaneously: in his sword arm, his muscled thigh, the small of his back, the back of his head...

...and finally in his throat.

His eyes glazed, rolling back in his head as he fell to his knees, the hand holding the tuk'ata loosening as death came in from all angles to claim him.

M'wonBo'o didn't even glance at the demon, but with his companion shot off with a speed to rival it, now freed from the tension of the restraint that had been placed upon them, bounding forward in ever increasing leaps, closing the distance quite effortlessly as they quickly came up upon the fleeing Phalomir.

Behind them, ten strapping warriors came running to the body of their fallen comrade, closing in from all sides, their swords and spears slicing and stabbing, as they fought to destroy the little demon from hell.

That and about a thousand more expletives rushed unrepentant through my head as I rushed onward, hanging on to Terrin for all I was worth. For if he pulled out of the narrow radius I had our invisibility shield adjusted to, not only would he be instantly seen by our pursuers but I would not be able to get him back under the shield without compromising my own position. There were enough Sith present to easily "triangulate" our whereabouts; our best defense was to remain underneath the shield and as quiet as possible.

Something that was not an easy feat to accomplish when one is trying to run full bore, persued by tuk'ata ready to rend and rip and tear and chew...

I shuddered, recalling the absolute terror I had felt all those months and months ago when I had come upon Terrin laying at the feat of Roan (*shudder*) with a tuk'ata holding him prisoner. Just the mere thought lent wings to my feet; seeing that Phalomir was further ahead of us, thanks to his lengthy stride, and possibly beyond the influence of the shield, I now groaned softly.

"Oh, hell!" I whispered quietly, gagging out the words between pants and gulps of air, hauling Terrin to a skidding halt as I watched the Dark Lord likewise -- and inexplicably -- come to a stop himself, his demeanor intimating that he was deep in conversation with someone.

???

"What's the deal with him?" I breathed, wondering if we should just say hell with it all, dash forward, grab the big goof, open the blasted doors into the temple, and continue on our mad-dash way.

And dreamed.

...literally, came the unspoken addendum. Then, Terrin spared only the briefest of moments to look back at Matt and Jasyn. "Get him," he mouthed...

...then pressed onward towards the double doors Phalomir had indicated, knowing the boys would follow his suggestion. Trying his best not to drag Galen along with his longer stride, Terrin barrelled through the double doors, taking one final look behind him to see the boys dragging along a once-more shocked Sith Lord. As the doors slammed closed, Terrin knew time was ticking, for it would be obvious where they went.

So he kept on the move. As they moved through the receiving hall, they progressed on directly into the dining hall...

...and the words Jasyn now spoke made Terrin slow just a bit.

"How about we take a roll through the buffet?" he heard. "The tuk'ata track by scent...and that just might throw them."

Even as Jasyn spoke the words, Terrin could hear the clawing on the double doors they'd just burst through themselves.

He shot a look at Galen, eyebrow cocked.

Jasyn's idea was fairly crazy, but was it crazy enough to actually work...?

"It just might work," I whispered, remembering how Sorben and I had eluded Gravin Dark and his nasty Noghri by covering ourselves in fresh poo-doo to eliminate our scent.

"If we can manage to get to the food, and more importantly, get it off wherever it is without anyone seeing food just up and disappear."

I cocked an eyebrow Jasyn's way as if to ask him if he had figured out that part of the plan yet. But then there was no more time for any further speculation.

The double doors in our wake burst open again, releasing a flood of warriors led by the two biggest tuk'ata I'd ever seen.

Or, Khaandon be with me, ever wanted to see again....

Pursing my lips tightly together I headed toward another set of double doors, conveniently opened for us, as if someone had left in a big hurry.

Hastening through, the others all in a jumble right along with me, I crept into the Dining Hall, doing my best to avoid brushing against anyone or anything.

It was just as I remembered it: there at the back, directly ahead of us, was the large buffet, everlastingly laden with foodstuffs. Off to one side of it was the smaller door leading into... well, what exactly I didn't know, maybe a private meeting room or a lounge of some kind, as low voices emanated from it. To the right, however, was something that made me pause right where I stood:

There was the great stone fireplace, above it which hung a beautiful sword that I didn't recall. All about in front of that fireplace were couches and chairs and tables and furs...

...right along with a lone Sith who cocked his head as though seeming to know we were there....

Fates, but Panthar was sure taking his time...!

And at last they arrived. Panthar paused, hesitating as if he were about to say something, his hand reaching for the door but not touching...

...and Shayla couldn't take any more.

"Open the door already!" she gorwled. Panthar's brow shot up in momentary suprise, and he finally complied, opening the creaky wooden door and stepping out, continuing on as if leading she and Erik along, appearing impressively convincing, at least in Shayla's opinion...

...at least,he was appearing convincing until he stopped in his tracks. Shayla was about to open her mouth to make a caustic remark about him getting a move on when whatever had already grabbed his attention grabbed hers...

...as well as did about four other somethings. For there, sitting at a couch in the dining area was a apparently waiting Sith...

...whose head was cocked as if he was looking at something invisible directly in front of him. And Shayla immediately realized that perhaps he was at that...

...for she easily could sense the other four, very familar presences.

The Sith obviously somehow sensed their cloak. This would never do...

So, immediately stretching out with the Force, simultaneously stretching her hand out towards the buffet, Shayla locked onto the massive piece of furniture with the Force...

...and quite effortlessly lifted it, totally unbeknwonst to the Sith who sat in front of it, so smooth was the motion. As the buffet moved in mid-air, however food began to splatter willy-nilly everywhere. The Sith turned, and began to stand in surprise...

...but barely began doing so when Shayla let the buffet fall, keeping a controlled grip on it as it hit the couch and sent the Sith still half-way sitting on it sailing through the air. As he hit the wall where the buffet used to sit, his eyes momentarily widened, and then he slid down it, his body suddenly growing limp as his widened eyes closed. His body at last came to a resting position on the floor, motionless, as he was down for the count, hopefully buying the her stealthing commrades some extra time.

And all the while, Shayla couldn't help but think, Man, what a way to make an entrance...

Yeah, that's right. Me, knocked absolutely speechless.

Will wonders ever cease....

Immediately following said blink came my hand, rising instinctively to wipe some kind of hot and spicy something or other from my eyes, which blinked again... and again, and yet again, watering now for all they were worth.

"Damn!" I couldn't help but mutter as whatever sauce those Sith used in whatever particular dish had slopped all over me now continued to slop into my eyes, and then to seep into the pores of my skin.

Hell's Seven Circles, but that stuff was hot--!

After what seemed all-too lengthy minutes but what in reality was probably mere seconds my eyes started functioning again. I turned them immediately upon a wholly welcomed sight:

That being the completely unexpected arrival of Shayla, Erik and the lumbering Panthar, who popped into the Dining Hall through a door--

Through a door?!?

Yes, through a blessed, blessed door!

--that up until said seconds ago I hadn't the faintest clue existed. Actually, that naggingly persistent logical portion of my psyche now rose up to lecture, this isn't all that farfetched. It's a big temple, full of mystery and intrigue. Of course there would be hidden doors and corridors and whatnot....

Whatever. The fact remained that the door did exist, they had come through it, had wreaked all kinds of havoc of their own, had managed to knock the lone Sith out in all the fray, had managed to complete the little mission, suggested by Jasyn, which up until nanoseconds ago we were wondering exactly how to accomplish ourselves...

...and all without making the voices in the other room lose a beat.

Remarkable.

It must be a lounge, I thought in non sequiteur as I hurried up to Shayla and the others so as to swiftly engulf them under the confines of our invisibility shield.

And they must be used to all kinds of ruckus going on in this room!

Whatever the reason, no one so much as peeped a horn out to investigate what had happened to cause such thunder right next door.

Lucky us.

I rushed up to Shayla, threw my arms around her in an impulsive hug, still speechless. Then I pulled back, nodded first toward the unconscious Sith and then the double doorway leading back out into the corridor.

...and fast. She pulled away from Galen a bit, the look in her eyes urgent as she nodded back towards the door from which she, Panthar, and Erik had come. "Let's get out of here," she breathed, turning and looking to Panthar. "Lead the way, Panthar. You're the Sith...

...and you should probbly step out of the invisibility shield to make this look totally convincing."

She trailed a moment, realizing how much she was coming to think of the guy as a Sith...

Kriffing hell, but it had been a long time since they had eaten...

...and as he could recall, Sith food wasn't all that bad...

Not really thinking about it, Jasyn licked his lips, his stomach suddenly rumbling. A particularly familar and blessed flavor took over his taste buds...

...and he licked his lips again, slower this time, savoring it.

Yeeeeeeeeees indeedy...

"Mmmmmmm...." he said under his breath, licking his lips yet again, oblivious to the turned heads and cocked brows around him as he continued with, "Sith brandy...

...what a fine girl you are..."

It didn't matter how horrendous the circumstances; a touch of the green always put things right with him....

Still smiling, I spoke to the group at large.

"Now that we're all together, what is it we're planning on doing again? I mean, does anyone have any idea what to do to find Ayelmaar; and where the heck does this passage go to anyway?"

...but I also know that the way we just came out from the dungeons is not the way we were lead in."

She pursed her lips a bit, turning then to look more at the others. "Might just be my hopes getting too high, but I don't see how a passageway from the dungeons to the dining hall could be that useful...

"You just might be on to something there," I acknowledged Shayla's speculations.

"This is a big ol temple; stands to reason that it would be just chock full of hidden passageways and so on. I mean, so many cultures did incorporate such things into their megastructures; Khaandon knows Dad found enough of them on his non-Sith digs--"

I came to a verbal halt with that, winding down into unexpected sadness, surprised yet not at the emotion the thought of Dad sparked within me. The others seemed to sense this, for they too remained quiet for a moment as well, and all that sounded was the soft beat of our footfalls as we sneaked deeper and deeper into the temple.

It suddenly struck me that we were in total darkness, the utter kind of non-light one would expect to find deep within the bowels of the earth. I paused, feeling someone bump into me, my hands reaching out and coming into contact with... well, with somebody.

"Anybody have a light?" I commented, sudden chills prickling up and down the back of my neck as the depths of the temple seemed suddenly less beneficient than moments ago.

Terrin paused a bit, his brow shooting up in surprise as he reached out to feel for Galen, knowing she was close by and suddenly wondering if someone or something else was out there. His hand made blessed contact with a familiar hand.

"It's ok, it's me," he spoke out reassuringly as he took her hand. "Calm down, Jas...

...and a light would be nice about now..." He said, restating his earlier thoughts aloud.

"Umm, yeah... light," I repeated, trying to keep my voice innocent, happy as a clam in sauce for that complete darkness of the passageway we were now feeling our way through.

While running, a portal from the Master had opened, and an invitation to join him in the Darker Realms was extended.

“I will come now,” he had said, hate filling his face. “And will leave nothing of your realm in my wake.” And he had meant it. For far too long happiness had evaded him, for far too long all he had ever desired had been jerked back and forth from his grasp. His life was shrouded in secrets, and never had he felt to be the master of his own destiny. But that would now cease.

But someone had pulled him away from the portal, away from Jharmeen. Whoever it had been, he now hated them for that.

Phalomir raised his palm to his chin, a soft red light bursting into existence and hovering just over his turned hand. The glow spread outwards, illuminating the hallway and the damp mossy walls. The hatred and anger poured from his face, making the red light all the more fiery.

“Light,” he said coldly.

The light-hearted camaraderie, camaraderie sprung from a brush with the insane, with the dangerous, with the warriors of the Sith, now evaporated like mist in hot sunlight. In its place there remained a growing discomfort, sprinkled not without a bit of fear.

Not to mention rising anger; this I knew sure as there's treasure on Roon because it was coming from me.

I knew my face was as hot as the red light that poured from the Dark Lord as, without really thinking, acting more on instinct I suppose, I dropped Terrin's hand and stomped to the Sith.

I positioned myself right smack in front of him, putting my fists on my hips and trying to look as intimidating as possible.

Which, just as a suggestion from those who know me, was pretty damn intimidating, my diminutive height be damned.

"Look buster!" I seethed, aware of the concerned looks being shot my way, of the mediating fix on Erik's face, of the determination to prevent a fight from brewing shining out from Shayla's, from a determination equally tough on Terrin's that nothing would happen to me, no matter how loud-mouthed or ornery I got.

"I have had about enough of you!"

Now my hand, errant beastie that it was, flew from my hip, fisting en route to Phalomir's chest where my index finger shot out and entrenched itself.

"Look buddy, we went through all kinds of hell and gone to keep you from following in the footsteps of your pal back there; we've risked our own lives following you because you are the only link we have to Aeylmaar and a possible solution to the mess we're all in; I am sick and tired of your wah-wah attitude; would you get with the program and work with us for Khaandon's sake?!"

With that I seethed to a trembling halt, shaking off the hands now trying to stop me, utterly tired of this big guy's constant flip-flops in attitude.

“I have offered a solution,” he said. “A simple solution. One thing we share is a love for Jharmeen, and I have a way to return her to you. The Master has offered a trade, me for her. I find that fair, do you not?”

He sighed, his face softening somewhat. The rush of anger abated slightly, leaving a strange trace feeling in his head.

It was merely purposely overlooked.

"Oh, that would be just peachy!" I retorted, now crossing my arms on my chest and letting every cell in my body radiate disdain at the suggestion he proffered.

"She would just love that, now, wouldn't she? I mean, sheesh, to have you so selflessly fling yourself into Khaandon knows where and what, the least terrible probably being certain death, all for her sake, leaving her behind and us to then deal with her--

"Hell no, buster!"

My arms uncrossed to fist at my side as, don't ask how, I found room enough to take yet another step into Phalomir. I glared up at him, feeling the heat of his body striking me while, oddly enough the coldness of something he was holding back washed over me like waves upon the shore.

I strove to ignore it; taking a breath, I hurried on.

"No way, there is no way in Hell's Seven Circles that I'm going to let you do that. Look, I know my sister, I've lived with her, fought with her; Khaandon knows we've been at each other's throats for the past four years--

"I'd say I have a pretty fair handle on her and her behaviorisms, and I know for a fact that she most definitely would NOT want you to act all big and bad and jedi-knight-in-shining-armor-run-to-the-rescue...

"Not if it meant that you'd be separated.

"I refuse to live with what that would turn her into; nope! We are all in this together; believe me, she's strong, she can take care of herself, and if you really love her like you say you'd quit thinking with your heart and start thinking with your head.

"We can outwit this Master -- but we need Ayelmaar's help!

"And we need you to help us find Ayelmaar!"

...but you've gotta think of what she would want as well...

...as well as what would be best for her, and not necessarily just for your own conscience. So let's use our collective brain to find Aeylmaar and figure out a way to get to Jharmeen...

And as much as he wanted to shout back at Galen, tell her to take a long flying leap off of a short docking bay, and shut up the flow of hard boiled cynicism bucketing from her jaws, he could not. He could not even justify turning Terrin, who blurted his own opinion, into a bubbling pile of goo, even as good as it would feel right now.

She was right.

Of course she was right.

Jharmeen would be furious at him for trading himself.

But he had no intention of going along with the Master’s plans, he would make the trade and then proceed to – to –

To get himself killed, more than likely.

Again, the anger poured from his eyes, but it was short lived. The glow of the light in his palm dimmed slightly, and he closed his eyes.

“I hate you,” he said quietly. “But I would trade you for nothing.”

Eyes still closed, he reached out, feeling the faint but still present link with Aeylmaar tingle in the back of his mind. He tugged on it, making it tremble, and felt for a response. He cocked his head, wincing, focusing on the thread.

Aeylmaar, are you there? Are you safe?

He hated me, did he now?

WELL!

But that reaction was squelched a-borning; the words he spoke oh-so quietly to me might have hurt, but standing where I was I clearly saw the look in his green eyes, just before he closed them.

"Ahh... yeah," I mumbled, turning from him now to go back to Terrin. Once against my husband I snuggled backwards against him, relishing in his returning instinctive reaction of placing his arms around me, as if to protect me from any more of the Sith Lord's ire.

Truth hurts, doesn't it? I wanted to say, but didn't. Something told me to remain still, so still I remained, just waiting to see where things went next.

There came a small mental chuckle before the form of Rykounagin stood, seeming to not to care wether he was seen. He drew and florished the Lotus and then looked up the wall towards the level at the top of the wall where the many guards roamed.

Us…

The strange lifeform they picked up in space! Heavens, Phalomir had forgotten about that poor soul… or souls.

Something trickled into his brain along a link once established, then sent to the back of his mind to hunker there amidst the neurons and motor memories, waiting until needed.

He blinked, sitting up in the darkness, his hands reaching out instinctively even as his own thoughts rushed back in joyous acknowledgment of that supple whisper in his mind.

"I hear you; I am here, here in the Temple of S'slan!" he sent back, swiftly, succinctly, knowing on an instinctive level that there were others upon this world with the ability he held, others with greater skill in it, others who could eavesdrop and interfere with him as easily as one might squash a bug.

Not wishing to risk further exposure, he wasted no more time in speculation or explanation. Instead, hoping his own message had gotten back to the Sith Lord, he severed the link altogether save for the merest of tendrils.

Then, using techniques taught to him by his Father, he settled once again into the velvet darkness, closing off the world about him and putting himself into a state of suspension until those who sought him would find and awaken him.

He did not dare leave his conscious mind open, not on this planet, no.

Then the smallest of replies came to him, and Phalomir jerked his head up. As quickly as the reply came, the link was dropped and Phalomir understood the urgency and secretive nature of the reply.

“Aeylmaar is in the Temple of S’slaan,” said Phalomir, opening his eyes. “He offered no other information, I take that to mean that he is in hiding or in trouble. Either way, we now know where he is.”

He turned to face Galen.

Yet his words did not reach my ears. They were too full of three little words he had spoken to heed what might have afterward fallen from his lips:

Temple of S'slan.

I took an instinctive step backward, bumping into Terrin now, rounding about him and sliding past, backing up further and further as my arms flew to wrap about myself, my eyes as wide and silent as my mouth.

Temple of S'slan. Dear Khaandon, no.

Not that place, not again. I don't know if I can go back there again, even to save my sister.

How could I? How could I go to the place He called his own, that hideous link between here and not-here where I had been flung, battered and broken, leaving Flac in my wake, followed by Terrin who at the time was Terrin no longer....

I shivered, and darted a quick glance his way. He in turn stood unmoving, apparently taken somewhat aback by either by my unexpected reaction...

...or else reduced to that state by the fuzziest of memories coming now, perhaps, to haunt him like all kinds of bad dreams.

What did he remember? Did he recall our misadventure in that horrible Dark place? Did he remember facing off with that flame-headed witch and her vampiric companion? Did he remember being twisted, taken, played with with the ease of a toddler playing with a toy, only to be flung back and out and into a death I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy?

Did he remember travelling those dark hallways, going into those darker shadows, leaving the light...?

I shivered again, my fingers clenched about myself in a death-grip, my eyes growing wider and wider and seeing less and less, only black, only dark, a dark suddenly occupied by blazing turquoise eyes.

Which laughed.

Step by step I backed until I was beyond the light emitted by the towering Sith Lord and stepping into shadows myself. Striking against the cold stones of the wall, I shivered, slipped, and crumpled to the floor, staring into something darker than night.

"I--I know of this place," I blurted out, the words spoken in a tone that was soft as a zephyr, cold as the black depths of space.

"I-- I cannot go back there."

The words whispered from my lips, flowed out and around, going into the ears of all present, in turn striking the cold stones of the walls and rebounding back into my own senses. There they rejuvenated me a little; I jerked, recognition coming back to me.

"It leads to Hell, you know."

I fell silent then, nevermind the fact that I had indeed entered into that particular hell upon one occasion or another after that fateful day, nevermind that by now, really, I should be getting a tinier bit used to it.

Should have.

But the Hell I was referring to was most definitely not that place we called the Darker Realms, not the place occupied by whip-tailed demons, foul anti-life, and the creature who went by the name of Roan.

No. Not that.

It was the hell in which I had started to lose Terrin... and after being given the chance to have him again, I simply refused to have anything to do with anything that might take him away from me again.

He furrowed a confused brow. "The Temple of S'slan?" he queried then, trying to place the name in order to understand Galen's reaction. Then, looking to Galen, concern in his eyes. "We've been there?"

He paused a moment, frowning. "I didn't know there was another Temple on this..."

Suddenly, his words dropped off, and realization registered...

...and along with far too much memory than he would have liked to have accompany it. For a moment his eyes grew vague as images locked far away in his psyche flashed by his mind's eye. When the images faded, his blue eyes snapped alert and intense.

"If the place you are referring to is the place I think, it is a very dangerous one, laced with traps for those who would dare intrude. Some of us may not be fully equipped to deal with these threats; what happened the last time we were there will not happen again, even if it means we must find another way to get to Aelymaar, somehow..."

He trailed again, this time approaching Galen, and helping her back to her feet. All the while his blue gaze never left hers, something haunted playing deeply in their depths. "I'm so very sorry for what I did that day...

“I know not of this temple,” he said flatly. “But if it is what you say then I fear for Aeylmaar. His message to me was short, perhaps under duress. If he is held there against his will, then that is all the more reason to find him quickly.”

He stepped in, allowing the light to fall once more on Galen. The look on her face echoed her words, there was no way she could help with this task.

“I do not ask anyone to accompany me or to relive a horrid past,” he said. “But I must go.”

Panthar jerked his head to Phalomir, giving a stern look. Phalomir smiled at him.

But gradually that vision began to soften and blur. I became aware that I was on my feet and there were supportive arms around me. I became aware of the low murmur of voices coming from that someone--

Terrin.

--followed quickly by someone else's voice.

Phalomir.

And finally the words spoken by the two wormed through the terrible scene I was looking at, shouldered past the emotions laced so tightly to that scene, and stomped into my psyche, waving banners of sanity and hope.

I jerked. My eyes cleared. My head cleared. Terrin's words made sense.

"You-- you weren't yourself that day," I finally managed, raising a surprisingly firm hand to caress his jawline; then Phalomir's reply came through to me. I twisted in Terrin's grasp, saw the Sith Lord standing there, an admixture of concern and impatience crawling all over his countenance.

Just beyond stood Big Red, looking the most solemn and stoic and ready-for-action that I had ever seen him.

My brain finally pushed aside the reaction that had held it in thrall, and formulated words, word of surprising embarrassment, words that were suddenly falling from my lips as though having little lives of their own.

"I- I'm sorry," they began softly. Then my voice deepened back to normal, got stronger, a touch louder. I straightened in Terrin's hands, firming.

Becoming myself once again.

"I-- I couldn't help it, that place--"

I balked momentarily; then with a frown of annoyance, went on.

"The Temple of S'slan is a smaller temple in the outskirts of-- well, I can't exactly recall the outskirts of where, exactly. At the time we were there, the Sith hadn't been brought back yet, but I found the coordinates to it in the Sith navigational logs I had aboard my ship that-- He had taken. I do know the temple was just somewhere, away from Phrinnchatka, out there."

I waved an arm, nevermind how ridiculous that looked.

"It's small, hidden; at the time, half buried. Dark, dismal, and filled with-- I don't know, something darker, something dangerous, something you can't see or physically touch, but can simply feel.

"R-roan had a Kaminoan lab there, a small one, true, but in its entirety. When we found the temple that lab had been destroyed; I'm not completely certain, but I think Roan was using that lab to advance someone -- or possibly someones -- in age."

I cast a look around, drawing yet more strength by the looks I was seeing all around me. My courage thus bolstered, and rapidly returning to my own senses, I went on.

"The last time I was there, I was hunting for my daughter--"

Eternally, it seemed. Would I ever find her, hold her, be given the simple joys allotted to most sentients, that being a loving home and family life?

"Anyway, He had been there, I think: Roan; something there, something dark and evil grabbed me, and took me into that terrible place we call the Darker Realms; I remember I had been travelling with a friend, Flac; then when we traced Roan's steps and I found Jester II again we separated, and he went off in his own ship; inside Jester I found the coordinates and we found the temple and then got taken away--"

I paused again, embarrassed for actions past, and turning shot an apologetic look Terrin's way.

"I-- I didn't see Roan, but there was this awful, awful Dark entity, some Thing, and it looked like Darth Wicked--"

I stopped again, wondering if I should elucidate on who Darth Wicked was. Giving a mental shrug -- irrelevant! -- I went on along my original track.

"Dear Khaandon, ShaRhylla was there, too--! The next thing I really remember, Terrin and I were shoved back into the portal and landed in the middle of a busted up lab inside that temple, Flac was nowhere around... and-- and Terrin wasn't himself.

"It wasn't long after that he-- he was--"

Again I paused, stumbling now, feeling the rise of despair again, a debilitating despair, one that sought to overwhelm me completely and lay me low.

It was then that a little red flag proudly raised itself and began squawking for all it was worth. Surprised, I turned a nanosecond's worth of attention to it.

Ok, so Terrin had been weird and out of his head, and had run off and gotten himself killed. Due to the actions of the Sith, indirectly if not directly.

But he was back, hale and whole. Again due to the actions of the Sith. Thank Khaandon.

So why the instinctive terror? Why this overwhelming fear, this reaction that makes you knee-jerk reflexively, without thought?

Yeah, Terrin had died, but he was alive now.

Why so terrified, ol girl? You've certainly faced worse: Desolist, Gravin Dark, those nasty Noghri by whose slimy paws you almost died yourself, that demon from hell...

I stopped in mid-explanation, my mouth hanging open. My eyes widened, looking off into the dark again, but this time seeing logic's brilliant light at the end of the tunnel.

Part of the horror of that place was that it intensifies fears, terror... and keeps it with you, portals into Hell laying low in vicious ambush nonetheless.

My hand flew to my mouth. Abruptly, the disproportional shadows of pain and anguish and terror just...

Receded.

I straightened further, seeking inward, surprised to find my old self standing there, arms crossed, a sensation of self-disgust filling my every pore.

Told you so, a long time ago, but you wouldn't listen ol' girl--!

I then let out the last of the fear in a big ol discharge of air, and took a step away from Terrin's support. Quickly I went on with my speculations concerning the Temple of S'slan, although deep in my gut I knew I was right.

Rykounagin's body ascended the stairs, ignoring the first cries of the sith guards who had spotted his progress. He took his gentle steps with a slight swing of his arms, the Lotus gently swaying back and forth as he came to the top of the stairs.

“Sounds lovely,” he said dryly. “Glad I volunteered. Does every place that you people travel have to be dark and sinister? Can’t we just once go rescue someone from the happy friendly floppy bunny people of soft cuddly land?”

He shook his head and brought his hand to the back of his nape to pop a kink in his neck.

“You know,” he continued. “If this place is some kind of doorway to the Darker Realms, it might be part of the trap that the Master is probably setting. We know he is pissed at Aelvedaar, and maybe he thinks it’s funny to use Aeylmaar as bait as well as Gray?”

A thought stuck him and he dropped his hand to his side.

“You said ShyRhylla was there? So she could maybe take us to the Temple? Phal, you said she was leading some sort of plot to overthrow Gray, right? Does anyone know her well enough to think that she might be tricked into helping us?”

"No," he said calmly, keeping his voice level as he dropped the axe from the casual two-handed grip by which he had been carrying it to an even more casual one handed one. It swung a bit at his side, brushing against the short robe that he wore.

"I am going to the yards, to slaughter a beast for the lady's breakfast," he explained further, now nodding to the intruder with something approaching curiosity. However, he had no business with anything other than his own position within the Great Temple of the Warriors; perhaps this one was a guest, lost and wandering.

"Do you need assistance finding something?" he asked politely before falling silent, waiting, while the early morning breeze caressed his face and below him the lights of Phrinnchatka began, one by one, to expire.

"I'd appriciate your aid..." Rykounagin's lips spoke.

"However, the lady will not be dinning tomorrow, nor the next day, she is quite preoccupied." He smiled faintly. "But if you could point out the slaughteryards below? I'm a bit slow..."

A wicked thought had formed in the mind of cruelty, though it did chuckle at the Axis' comment. "Then please my dear artifact, why is it that you are so determined to keep away from Aelvedaar? What chaos could such a senile philosopher cause?"

"Of what interest a common slaughteryard would be to a newcomer -- for indeed, newcomer you must be to Phrinnchatka as Sith you clearly are not! -- is beyond my understanding. But if such things are what drives you, then so be it."

He paused a moment, then turned round and continued his trudge down the steep, stepped side of the Temple, the early morning breeze freshening in his face.

He chuckled quietly. "Oh, well woe be to me for being noticed as not being a sith..." He chuckled, looking down the steps.

He took a step, and paused, suddenly his vision blurred. "Curses..." He groaned for a moment, then blinked and looked around confused.

Rykounagin

Rykounagin looked around, seeing a retreating sith, he immediately froze, grasping the lotus. He cursed inwardly and hurled his mental disgust and frustration at the axis.

The Finger fits perfectly within my hand as I draw it from him.

"Thank you, my Son."

Even as I touched him he whirls, his eyes wide in surprise and yes, in anger as well. My own lips crook to see that look.

"Continue your mission, my son."

I bow. Then before he can so much as blink, I withdraw back to my own places, the Finger of R'lous a tight treasure in my grasp, the Portal sighing closed ere I fully depart from the steps of the Great Temple of the Warriors of the Sith.

The complications of the Axis are gone, now to make the trip back easily. Without a word to the butcher, he cloaked himself again in his protective hypnotism's of invisibility and skirted around the butcher, climbing down the stairs to the yard, and taking it upon himself to begin skirting through the city, keeping to back alleys and such.

The cloak of invisibility was good, but strenuous to use against many beings at a time.

It did confuse him however, how he had suddenly found himself standing on those steps. He did not know the Axis possessed such power to possess him, even for a short time, such as Ragorian could do extendedly. However, unlike when possessed by that blade, he did not feel exhausted by the effort of containing the spirit, in fact there felt a lingering tingle of annoyance, of frustration.

He quickly quelled it, and put the thoughts aside as he focused upon his task, ducking under a low hanging archway between two small stone houses as he made his way towards the outside of the city.

A trailed for a moment, then continued with "As to the possibility of the Temple of S'slan having something about it which amplifies fear..."

He trailed, once more, this time his look thoughtful as he matched his actions that day with the idea, "...I agree. Jharmeen's son, Jharu...

...what happened to that kid...?

"...told me he sensed something dangerous in that Temple that day. Of course I was hellbent and didn't listen to him...

...but my worries and concerns did seem to escalate once I got into the Temple."

Pausing with that, he pursed his lips, his mind again turning. "So how can we use this as we search for Aeylmaar? Might this weirdness help us pinpoint his location, if either Shayla, Erik, or Phalomir...or you, Galen, can sense it?

He had then turned his mind towards his new wielder, Kelvandar, as he was called. Knowing that he would need to be prepared for his latest task, he had silently reached into Kelvandar's mind, searching for anything and everything the warrior knew of this Salandaar. Ragorian's knowledge of him was, after all, extremely limited.

He spent a time carefully analyzing Kelvandar's Salandaar-related thoughts, but the warrior's own feelings of surprise had drawn his attention back to the present, in time to witness his target, the mighty Salandaar, being assailed by a...creature. Some sort of monster that, he had realized, he was completely unfamiliar with. As Salandaar pinned the creature with his weapon, then seemingly succumbed to his wounds, Ragorian's chance had been suddenly presented to him. Kelvandaar, without warning, had nonchalantly pierced Salandaar's unconcious form with his blade, and Ragorian had swiftly gathered a part of himself and launched it across to Salandaar's mind.

As he alighted, he realized that if the warrior did not get treatment quickly, he would have little point in being here; there was no use in his remaining in a corpse. Kelvandar, however, had acted quickly, removing Salandaar's body and getting him carted off to the Healer's with surprising speed.

Knowing that he had, perhaps, limited time, Ragorian had wholly focused himself on the part of his being within Salandaar. He established a firm hold in the deepest, darkest corners of the powerful warrior's mind, so as to make sure he could not be expelled upon Salandaar's reawakening...

...assuming that he did, in fact, reawaken.

As he finished this, he loosened his intense focus upon this small part of his being, allowing his perception to reinclude the other parts of him...

...including the one now within ShaRhylla's mind, which informed him that she had called for his aid while he was wholly focused on Salandaar.

Making one last check that he could not be expelled from Salandaar's mind without a fight, he brought his attention back to the greatest part of his being, that within his blade, which was now replaced upon its grand home on ShaRhylla's mantle.

A quick assessment of his surroundings assured him that he should have been paying more attention to this aspect of his being. Things were not as they should be in the dining room.

He had arrived in time to witness the buffet table, somehow floating in the air, accelerate swiftly and slam into Kelvandaar, who had been standing, staring at the table, and send him sailing across the room to crumple in an unconcious heap.

This was followed by several quiet muttered curses from the midst of the room...which, like the rest of the Hall, was supposedly empty...

...and a Sith warrior with two humans, a man and a woman, entering through a previously-unnoticed door in the wall.

As these new arrivals approached the center of the room, they suddenly disappeared just as though they had been enveloped by a great invisible bubble.

Incredulously, Ragorian focused harder, and his senses picked up traces of a whispered conversation being held in the area the humans and Sith had just dissappeared into. His focused harder in time to barely detect a woman's voice saying "...out of the invisibility shield to make this look totally convincing."

Then, suddenly, the Sith who had been with the two humans appeared again, crossing the hall and opening a door, waiting a moment-presumably for those under the...invisibility shield...to enter- then entering himself and closing the door.

For a moment, Ragorian sat in bemused silence, as surprised as he had ever been in his long existence. That had all been so...unexpected...and it had happened so fast that he barely knew how to react. His mind spinning with unanswered questions about these...people, whoever they were, he was nevertheless distracted by yet another unexpected occurence, in the form of another disembodied voice.
"We ask that you take us down from this vantage position and release us."

However, it was only a moment before he remebered the voice and found the source of it: the odd pod object that Lady ShaRhylla had suspended near the ceiling some time ago. His curiosity about this creature, this whatever-it-was in the pod, rose again. Reaching out with his mind and using his magicks, he sent out a questioning pulse of mental and magickal energy directed at the creature, testing to see if it could intercept and interpret the pulse and if it would respond.

He was about to attempt to examine the pod further when his mind reminded him of a question it had been working on and could not answer, one of far greater importance than this pod-creature.

Lady ShaRhylla. Where is she?

Reaching out with his perceptions, he quickly found his mistress in her bedchambers, collapsed on the floor, apparently sleeping. A note of alarm rising in his mind, he examined the room, searching for some sort of explanation to his mistress' condition. It took little time before something attracted his attention. It hung in the air of ShaRhylla's room, this something, and was fast disappearing. Quickly he reached out to examine it, and even more quickly he recognized it for what it was.

Magick. A spell, recently woven and more recently dispelled, its traces quickly evaporating.

This magick must be the reason that ShaRhylla slept so suddenly, he told himself. It would explain why she is collapsed on the floor. But now that it is dispelled, she should be awakening at any time...

He again let his conciousness shift, this time letting focus reside with the part of him that now resided in ShaRhylla's mind. He could tell that his Lady still slept, and that she was dreaming. Curiosity rose in him about what his mistress would dream of, but he squelched it, refusing to wander in her mind unbidden. Instead, he gently called out to her, attempting to reach her in her sleep, and awaken her.

He blinked several times, shook his head slowly, and turned back to the group as if nothing had happened.

“I believe we should assume that Aeylmaar is held against his will, and hope that he is only hiding. I will not ask anyone else to go but myself and Panthar. I intend to only investigate Aeylmaar’s disposition, then report back to you.”

Phalomir bit his lower lip and thought.

I quickly bent down, readjusting my limbs to keep him fully out of sight before I narrowed my fingertips and increased the muscle mass in my arms, "tip-toeing" on my fingers through the petals as not to disturb them, to the secret pathway that I knew lurked behind this wall.

I crushed myself flat and slid through, then alighted a bit more comfortably upon my feet inside the passage, and began to steal upwards to the passage that would show the dinning room. What trouble what trouble... she'll be so disappointed! I thought, knowing I'd changed her script by doing this, now fully having shifted to my "halfling form".

I peeked through the small crack, but beheld not our new "leading lady". I hesitated a moment, considering that she could be out of sight, then alighted back down the passage to see if she was in her chambers.

All this casual talk about sending spirits hither and yon was enough to make even a rancor nervous.

But I didn't say anything. Truth be told, there really wasn't much for me to say. I mean, no one died and made me squad leader, right? And this temple was Phalomir's turf after all.

So I just smiled and nodded, casting a glance to Terrin as I did so.

"Whatever works, Big Guy," I said. "We're not getting anywhere just standing here flapping our jaws, you know."

I then fell into my own further speculations, silent.

Ahead he could see the ship where he had left it, along the side of a small valley. "I'm going to get home, and I'm going to settle this..." He muttered. "This errand boy work grows most old."

“I do not fear the Darker Realms,” he said. “Should I be become trapped there once again, I shall still do all within my power to free Jharmeen. But this is merely reconnaissance, I do not intend to enter any portals.”

Phalomir turned his attention to Terrin.

“Since none of you know exactly where this temple lies, it will take some time to locate it. However, while in spirit I may be able to lock onto some sort of signal from Aelymaar.”

Unlikely, however, if he intends to hide in this strange place.

“My body will be alive, but I expect my breathing and general life signs may be quite low. If you fear I have been gone too long, over 30 minutes perhaps, then hide me somewhere and do what you must. When I am able, I shall return.”

Phalomir turned to Galen.

He put a hand to his skull and found the source of pain, a large lump upon his head along with a good sized slash in the flesh. That would explain it... I stand in a room waiting for guests, guests arrive, and act like they've already had a half gallon of- he winced, touching another sore spot as he started to get up, groping for his spear to his side as he did so.

But... words were words, and both were softly spoken. The young halfling had been heading off for slumber, a natural slumber suddenly intensified by the magickal spell Rykounagin had placed upon her chambers. Though the spell had been lifted once the Finger of R'lous had been appropriated by Dark Lord Aelvedaar, her body still needed its sleep.

Thus, despite the soft words with which both her companions were trying to awaken her, she merely moaned lightly, curled into a tighter little ball, and slept on.

It would take more than words to awaken her at this point.

I moved over to her bed and spoke aloud yet again. "Milady ShaRhylla, there is an urgent matter to be attended too." I watched her for another moment, and saw that his words would not awake her.

He plotted the lift and the ship touched off from the ground, slowly ascending up into the air before beginning to ascend faster through the atmosphere. As he sat there, he felt a strange sensation of nostalgia (ooc: great song btw.))) and disappointment.

He had completed the mission in essence, in every way instructed, but felt he was still disappointing his father. The look he had held before sending him off to do this task as not nearly as affectionate and heartwarming as one would hope. Thus far he had failed two tasks of three for his father, and even this one though technically successful seemed oddly incomplete.

He then though, had to think back to when his father had given him what he had always wanted purpose and love from another, as family should be, a weakness he did suppose. But then he also thought to these errands, and felt a stab of arrogance.

Had not his father told him that he could have what he wanted, for he was a prince, the son of the greatest sith their was? Then why was it that his greatest wish, which was to remain with his father and learn, was being denied?

He then felt furious stab of frustration and smashed his fist home to the side of the co-pilots chair, and for a moment, watched it spin slowly where it was, revolving gently from the force of his blow. He then remembered the first lesson, of which he had now finished, though he was sure he'd recieved a failed mark upon it.

"Look, buddy," he finally piped up irritably. "Isn't that what you are supposed to be using your Sithy powers for? To find that temple and Aeylmaar? If we stand here all the damn day talking this over, someone will eventually figure out where we went. I don't want to be standing here discussing the damn logistics when they do, either."

"Yeah," I said, crossing my arms across my chest.

"You're the one with all the froo-froo heebity-jeebity stuff; seems kinda strange that you don't know where this temple is. Hell's Seven Circles, I don't really know where it is--!"

I stopped, drew in a breath, let it out between puffed cheeks.

"I mean, I kinda remember the location: it's out in the boonies, near some mountains someplace. Seems like there was a ridge or something overlooking it; I can't really recall, I was in a bit of a daze at the time--

"Oh, hell! If we could only get to a Sith ship, the coordinates are right there in the navigation logs! Now wait a minute... lemme think here...."

Backing immediately down from the outburst mode with which I had initially begun to speak, I now closed my eyes and concentrated.

C'mon, Galen ol' spot, you can remember. Remember how Dad was always so proud of you, that you could never forget a coordinate? How proud you were too, to be a walking nav-log; you always thought that doing this was important, just in case the real nav-logs got lost and you had to get somewhere in a hurry.

Remember? When you were with Sorben, I think it was, and you were trying to get... where was it? Oh yes, you were heading back to Khar Delba to rescue him from Wicked, remember? You didn't forget those coordinates now, did you? So surely you can remember--

"I've got it!"

Quickly, before I could lose the information stored in a singular few of my brain synapses, I rattled off a series of numbers.

"There," I said with a definite nod of my head. "That's the location of the Temple of S'slan.

"Now, lemme think again..."

Another pause, in which the concept of freeflow of thought was greatly appreciated....

My head popped upright, and before I realized it another series of numbers dropped from my lips.

"There," I said again, nodding in conclusion. "Those are the coordinates of Phrinnchatka. Now, if we can estimate how many klicks there are per degree, we have a heading and should be able to find the Temple."

As the crow flies. Which was in a straight bee-line.

Nevermind the terrain beneath its wings....

I didn't mention that, though. One knotty problem at a time; let someone else come up with the fill-in stuff.

And quite angry about it.

"Who dares awaken me in so coarse a manner!" she snarled, hands held like claws at shoulder height. Then she saw the Masque, and let those hands fall a bit, although her stance remained loose and ready to pounce.

Strange, even in that position she looked no less noble than if she were putting on her most haughty of airs...

...only infinitely more dangerous.

A moment ticked past. Then another, and another, until she got her anger under control enough to speak in a manner mere shades more civil than before.

"What do you want, to come into a Lady's bedchamber in the dark of night, and awaken her thus? What is this that has sent you to me?"

Only then did she feel the whisper of her consort niggling in the corners of her mind.

"I am here," she replied silently, never removing her gaze from Masque.

"My dear consort, I am awake. Is there something of importance you are trying to tell me as well? For there is one standing now afront me in my chambers, who has had the affrontery to awaken me from my slumbers..."

"That'd be easy enough to plot out, especially if we've got someone good at working numbers..."

She trailed a moment, eyeing both Matt and Terrin. After all, as business people, they both should be very familiar with playing the numbers.

"Still, we'll have to consider the terrain of the planet. We already know from what Galen said the Temple is probably in a mountain range...

...therefore our coordinates are going to be a straight shot from a pilot's perspective, and not from that of a person on foot.

"The ploy has failed, they have noticed a flaw, and as all words go, it sounds as if your "guests" have disappeared. And-" He looked at her closely and at the room surrounding.

...which he hadn't had for oh, a good year or so. How easily it came back to him. Not long after Shayla finished speaking with her query to Phalomir, Terrin rattled off the estimation of klicks they were from the Temple of S'slan, per Galen's coordinates.

...provided we had a ship. And perhaps that is not such a bad idea. Assessing Aeylmaar's status is one thing, but it will not get us all to him, as I believe was one of our objectives...

...and it will not get us off this world either. As Terrin has already suggested, we are going to have to get on the move again, and soon. Currently we are in an apparent maze of sorts, and we don't know all that much about our surroundings...

...but my logic tells me that a hidden maze is no good unless it gets you somewhere special. Where do these pathways go...

...and might some of these paths get us the hell out of here?"

He paused, then continued with, "Is there any way to assess such things through the Force while Phalomir does his job, so we can get moviing? If we could get out of here and head towards Char'lingua, that'd be a step in a major direction...

...because when I'm talking about getting out of here and to Aeylmaar or off this planet all together...

...I'd love to do so with some Sith fighter class and protection...

...but I'd also entertain the notion that perhaps our best bet is to turn around and haul our rear ends out the way we came if the Sith guards are distracted enough trying to find us to miss our return and departure altogether. This might give us a chance to visit the Sith Library, which was another objective of ours. And it might be more effective in getting us where we need to go. Of course, if Phalomir is available and can give us some idea of where we are in this passageway and where it might go, or if we can even figure this out ourselves...

...staying right where we are might be more effective too. Just some food for thought..."

He began to turn at this, then paused a moment, remembering something he hadn't had to think of in quite some time.

"Uhhh... Boss?" he queried.

The corner of Terrin's lip quirked into a bemused smile. "I'm game," he then said.

That was all the encouragement Jasyn needed, and Jasyn knew with Terrin's reply that he wasn't the only one wanting to move, and that at least some of the others, if not all of them, would be at his back.

So he began trudging down the dark pathways, frowning as the darkness came pressingly to his attention.

"Hey, I think someone might have asked this before, but does anybody have a light?"

...or a blaster, the errant thought came worming into his brain. Now that would come in really handy about now...

But hey. All in a day's work, right?

I patted myself quickly as we moved along, and of course came up empty.

"Sorry, I don't seem to have any light on me," I whispered. "All I can do is keep light from hitting us, sorry."

I patted the control to the Sith invisibility device I still wore, even though no one could see the movement.

A bit of time then passed which was filled with the small noises we made in our journey. I couldn't even begin to tell you if we continued in a straight line or if we had moved off into side passages; when one relies solely on the sense of hearing to guide one, direction can easily be lost.

I sure as hell hoped that we hadn't gotten ourselves into a similar predicament.

At length I couldn't stand this creeping about any longer.

"Hey, does anyone remember anything about the layout of this place?" I tossed out with a hint of desperation in my voice.

"I mean, who's got a good spatial memory? I have something of an idea of the direction in which we're travelling--"

Assuming, of course, that we were continuing in a straight line, of which there was no absolute guarantee....

"Can anyone think where inside this temple we might be heading? I think that 90 degrees to our right would be the corridor that goes off to the suites and so on; has anyone here taken a gander of the outside of this temple at any time, and might have an idea of how far we have to go until we--"

My words were halted by the simple fact of their being crushed back into my mouth, for suddenly I found my face mashed up against the back of whoever it was that had been walking ahead of me. That unseen worthy seemed for some reason to have stopped cold in his or her tracks; suddenly I realized why.

He blinked.

"Who has escaped?" he finally asked.

"And of more importance, who was attacked? The only unfortunate I am aware of is our poor Dark Lady of the Warriors--"

He paused a moment to bow his head in grief and respect.

"--but news of no other altercation has since come to my ears.

"What is this you speak of?"

Falling silent then he merely waited for his fellow warrior to explain himself. While he did not wish to cause any undue delay in the reappropriation of possible escapees, he also was wise enough to not go running to his superiors at every little whisper and hint of danger that might be spoken. Indeed, he knew what happened to Sith who cried rancor too often; it wasn't pleasant.

...and that he wasn't headed into one wall or another...

...and been disturbing enough. But when his face made contact with a solid wall, now that was quite enough.

After the intial Ooomph!!! which exploded from his lips, a curse was quick to follow. Knowing he had absolutely nothing else to rely on, he felt the wall with his hands, edging to one side...

...which seem to head off somewhere. Curious then, he edged off to the other side, and felt that way...

...and the side of his hand, and thankfully not his head came smack against anther wall. A little more feeling around and he found the corner to the adjoining walls, the one he found with his face and the other which he'd found with his exploring hands.

"Ahhh..." he spoke up, "..seeing as there is a wall connectijng with the one I've just run smack into, I think we'd better head to our left. The passageway seems to continue on there.

And with no further ado than this, he turned his body in that direction, and began to walk. "Follow my footsteps, and hang on to someone. I have a feeling we may be getting somewhere since there is no pathway in the other direction."

Quieting at that, there was no sound for the longest time other than the sound of echoing footsteps. Until, of course, his face made contact with another wall, sending him back. He had to fight with his balance to not fall backwards upon whoever was following him.

He somehow managed, however.

Another kriffing wall, he thought blackly.

But then reality dawned...and he reached out to feel what he'd just ran into with his hands, not moving the slightest. Whatever was in front of him wasn't made of the hard substance the Temple walls were made of. It was...

...or at least felt like...

...solid wood. And upon further inspection, Jasyn could feel the straight up and down crack between what now appeared to be something that could either be their salvation or their doom.

"Everyone grab onto someone," I said. "I'm gonna hit the invisibility device again. No sense being seen by whoever might be on the other side of this door."

My words were followed by soft sussurrations and rustlings, tiny noises that indicated my fellows were seeking out each others' hands. My supposition proved to be correct when my free hand was grasped by a large and warm one.

"Here goes," I said then, and hit the device. Immediately a sliver of paling darkness appeared to my right; I turned on the spot and faced that sliver, which was widening while I looked at it. Soon it was approximately the size and shape of a doorway; abruptly, I found myself heading toward it, being pulled along by whoever had my hand. Whoever was behind me had managed to grab my belt; I smiled then, knowing we were soon going to be out of this temple.

And we were, just as I thought.

We exited into the first light of waning night. Everything was just a shade above dark, just light enough to hint that we were no longer in a confining corridor but rather out in the open.

The smile waned pretty quick, however, when I moved aside to get a good look around us, and to my horror found that there was nothing around but free air and a drop to the city streets below of about 200 feet.

"Damn!" I hollered, whirling about.

"Don't close the--"

Too late. A wooden sort of sounding snick informed me that the last man was out, and had closed the door behind him.

A door now flush against the stone of the temple, sans a door handle of any kind.

I whirled around, and took another good look at the oddball stone we were standing upon. It was a weirdly shaped balcony of sorts, the low stone railing providing nothing but a mockery of protection against the heart-thumping drop that stretched below.

What in Hell's Seven Circles was this for? Who the hell puts a balcony outside a door, with no means of returning to where one came from, and in so precarious and dangerous a place?

I hadn't a clue.

I only knew that we had just leapt from the frying pan right into the fire...

...and without Phalomir, who had gone strangely missing.

I had forgotten the layout of this temple... forgotten that to even get to what was the "ground floor" of the temple proper, one had to climb up that damned smaller, stepped front. Had to then cross the courtyard, and enter into that place with all the pillars, behind which lay the doors into the temple on the level where the dining room was...

...from which we had just beat a hasty retreat.

Apparently we hadn't gone down any in our flight. Dammitall anyway, I hate forgetting things more than I hate helmet hair...!

Well, perhaps not completely unconciously. They had entirely too nice a view of K'eel Doba right now.

"Oh... Hell...!!!" was the only thing that Terrin could think of to say at the moment, however. In fact, the words came out of his mouth instinctively.

He glanced around him then, his blue eyes further inspecting the strange balcony upon which they stood. His ears, in the meantime, picked up on Jasyn's chain of curses. He furrowed his brow, and frowned. Then something came to mind.

"Shut up already, will you Jas?" he growled at Jasyn, "That's not going to help us out here. We've got a few options, I think. First off, we could explore where we are...

...and try to find our way back in. Or we could start figuring a way back in that door, perhaps Shayla or Erik might be able to work the door from the inside with Jedi powers and get us back inside?"

He paused then, pursing his lips once more. "And speaking of Jedi powers, we know that Shayla could get us down, perhaps, but I don't much care for that option, seeing as we are so high up."

Quieting once more, his thoughts began to trail. "Think this is a lookout balcony, or something?" he then queried. "Cause the view is sure good from..."

His words now dropped off, entirely. "Hey wait a minute...

...does anybody remember how close the Library is to here? Hell, does any of us even know its location? Cause if we wanted to get a bearing on where it might be, now is a really good opportunity..."

“I thought that Phal was right behind me,” he said. “That’s why I let the door…”

His words trailed off as he tried to push the door open again. It did not budge.

“Umm,” he said. “Why won’t this open?”

He tried again, to no avail. With his good hand he began to pound on the door, but he made no impression upon the solid stone.

Propelled by the claw of the imp, Graysith burst through the portal it had opened. The movement was so unexpected she at first paid no heed whatsoever to her surroundings but rather let herself fill with the utter joy and relief that she was no longer in that terrible and dark dimension.

She fell forward onto her hands and knees with a loud "Oof!" -- yet more sheer joy and relief filling her senses as she felt the roughness of stone beneath her palms, the grit of dirt against her knees, the softly freshening breeze of early morning against her face....

Only then did she let herself stop and think about what had happened. Only then did she dare to actually look about herself.

Directly into the shocked faces of--

"Shayla! Dear, dear sister!"

Rising now to her feet she rushed forward, wrapping her startled young adept in the Chosen Daughter equivalent of a bear hug. She took a step back, letting her gaze sweep round herself, taking in the equally shocked visages of the others.

Then she noticed where they were.

She blinked, her turn to be startled. The imp had a modicum of integrity within it after all....

"Why are you on the Edge of Noble Death?" she asked, too heady with joy to be really bewildered about it in truth. When gawks and stares were her only answer, she raised her dirty palm.

"Time to speak of this later; now, we shall go where we can fill each other in of all that has happened. I have-- have much to reveal."

An image of Phalomir's dear face swam before her violet eyes, which suddenly grew moist. Then, briefly angered at herself for her weakness in a time when such an emotion could not be spared, she tossed her head.

"Come, to the Dining Hall."

Even as she spoke the words the Glyph on her forehead burst into radiant life. Her joy was now but one step closer to final completion; raising a hand, she rent a tear in the fabric of space and time and opened a portal into the very room those around her had just fled from.

"Shall we?" she said, stepping daintily aside, and so ushered all present back into the Dining Hall, closing the Portal behind her when all were through.

It was only then that she stopped in her tracks, and allowed those with her the opportunity to speak whatever was in their minds...

...before she would hurry on to that which was firmly implanted in her heart.

As everyone moved to safety, a collective sigh of relief seemed to escape the group. Yet Panthar remained dour, looking squarely at Jharmeen. Her eyes met his for a brief moment, his thoughts not spoken yet unmistakable within his stare.

He’s gone, isn’t he?

(((Follow Panthar, Graysith, Galen, Terrin, Shayla, Jasyn, Matt, Erick, ShaRhylla, Ragorian, Oni, Masque, anyone else we've missed, and a cast of thousands to All That We See in this forum. Thank you!)))