Aeylmaar listened gravely to the words Thoran whispered to him, watched with a growing sense of impending doom as the Sith then turned and with the others followed his Father into the Elseness, let forth a heavy sigh as the rip in the fabric between realities then disappeared with an implosive little pop.

Then, not quite knowing what else to do, he simply turned and retreated into his Father's Inner Sanctum, there to lend himself with a vengeance to the lessons already given to him, to then extrapolate from them what he could in order to apply his growing knowledge to any unknown, and dangerous, situations.

The Master, leveling his gaze at Shawn, was interrupted before he could speak by the faint words spoken by Aelvedaar. His eyes widened, and he dismissed the words he had conjured for the Jedi and moved his eyes back to Aelvedaar.
“My Lord,” he said, leaning close. “I shall take us there now, for well do I know the Temple.”

Indeed, though in a future timeline now lost to the shifting sands, the Master was Aelomir, Dark Lord himself. He long ago abandoned that title, giving his allegiance to the Darkness in trade for powers that would save his people. But even that partnership was dissolved.

But now he could return, and that filled him with hope.

The Master focused on the inner lounge of the Dark Lord, where he had spent many hours in study in future days. He waved his hand, now steady with the resurgence of strength, and a portal shimmered before him. The Master looked to Panthar, his eyes sharp and keen, then stepped through the portal.

Almost immediately came an urgent shout echoing from within the portal, as the Master ordered a shocked servant to fetch Aeylmaar.

Panthar raised his eyebrows in understanding and hurried to Aelvedaar. He gently scooped the Dark Lord into his powerful arms and followed the Master through the portal.

On the other side he was greeted by two servants, one standing dumbfounded with a partially folded blanket in his hand, the other rushing off towards a door. Panthar glanced about, and saw a long ornate sofa. He walked to it and gently lay Aelvedaar down upon it.

With nothing further, Terrin carried Galen through the portal to the Temple of the Sorcerors on Khar Delba, hoping for all kriffing hell that he never spent another moment on the dustball of a rock they had just left behind as everyone else followed in his wake. As he entered and moved so that everyone else could step through as well, Terrin was met with the sight of Panthar laying the Dark Lord on a couch...

...and the Master ordering Sith servants around.

Terrin arched an eyebrow at Galen as if to say, He sure is getting used to that awful quickly.

"Hey, while you're there ordering everyone around," he then spoke up to the Master, "You might also let them know everyone here could use some water...

...or I'm going to take care of that myself."

Off to one side there suddenly appeared a hint of rock, with a more than substantial waterfall tinkling merrily along its face. He smiled briefly to himself--

I am learning!

--but that smile flattened the moment his eyes found Panthar and the burden he had just laid down. In a rush of robes, Aeylmaar was there, down on his knees, his hands roving over Lord Aelvedaar's body as he gently began probing. A hurried command to the hand-wringing servant and the latter was off to fetch the Senior Healer.

Still on his knees, Aelymaar lifted his eyes. They darkened upon seeing who it was that was standing there.

Quickly he sent the strongest protective shield about the others that his limited knowledge could create, hoping it would be enough should the Master decide to attack. Then--

"What is the meaning of this?" he asked, his voice trembling and laced with a touch of darkness.

"What have you done with my Father?"

“I am Aelomir,” he said. “I-- I mean no harm, the Dark Lord needs assistance. He was swarmed by small white spiders, I managed to remove the venom but his wounds go much deeper.”

The Master indicated the others in the room, sweeping his hand outwards.

“These people have been without supplies in the Tattooine desert for far too long,” he continued. “I was injured, and until very recently was incapable of providing assistance. Not only water, but food and medical attention is required, especially for the woman Galen.”

He returned his stare to Aeylmaar, unable to help himself. The coldness within him seemed to gradually depart, and a strange sensation of longing crept over him. He struggled with this, and finally backed away as to not distract from the attention required to aid Aelvedaar.

....but Jasyn quite literally took a nose dive into the cool waters. Matt, as per always, kept restrain while tending to his need for drink even as others continued to join in to enjoy the wonderful water.

He drank deeply from the fountain, his body tissues screaming their relief. His vision, which he just now realized had been dimming, seemed to brighten. He finally shook his head back, the water which had been gathering on his head and hair splashing backwards to the floor. He looked around, saw he was not alone in his replenishment at the fountain. He was especially glad to see Galen seeming to gain strength, and everyone else had now gathered to cool and drink.

All except the Master, who was standing before Aeylmaar. Panthar blinked, then rubbed his eyes, and blinked again. He elbowed Jasyn, who was next to him.

"Wha--?" he began, but then, blinking, realized what Panthar was referring to. "Funny, I've never seen two Sith with quite the same shape of horns...

...and quite quickly and easily remembering just who was not with him...

...and who was.

He jerked into motion, moving away from the waters and over to where the three sith were, his eyes clouded with worry, concern...

...and with not just a bit of sheer determination.

He looked at the prone Lord Aelvedaar, opened his mouth to say something, and worked it a bit. Suddenly every cell of his body was screaming that he should move, but one single thing was holding him back.

He hadn't the first clue where she was.

He couldn't sense her.

Khar Delba. All over again.

Again.

"If the Dark Lord was injured so badly...what of Shayla..."

He paused, "And Jharmeen?"

His thoughts were reeling. Someone had to know some way to find them. "I have to find Shayla, she may be in danger...

...and considering that Jharmeen's spirit was in her mind, I think you know just how damaging danger to Shayla could be for her as well."

He paused again. "Someone must have some way to find her...

...and perhaps he has an answer as well," Erik observed, pointing now to Lord Aelvedaar. "This is important. I have to find her..."

Trailing, his deep browns shifted from one pair of Sith eyes to the other, waiting for acknowledgement, for assistance...

“He is correct, in a brutish sort of way. I feel Lord Aelvedaar may know where Phalomir has gone. In the meantime, I am sure your healers will have much success in their duties, but we have our own duties we must attend to. The first of which is to know what happened to Aelvedaar. I shall open a portal there, trusting that you, Panthar, will allow me access to your memories to ascertain the location.”

The Master, after receiving a now from Panthar, felt for the opened mind of the man. He found it, and scanned the surface for the thoughts that should have been foremost. A jungle, a swamp, a grove of trees… Memories of the white spiders, of the protection placed upon her body by both Phalomir and the eyes… Eyes? How familiar they were, yet so different…

He placed the extraneous thoughts aside and waved his hand, a portal shimmering to life before him. He let go of Panthar’s mind and focused on what lay on the other side of the doorway through existence. He saw the grove, the swamp, but saw no spiders. He slowly put his head into the portal and glanced around. There were many trees that he could now see with small white spiders climbing up and down, but nothing looked out of the ordinary for a Dagobah swamp.

“It appears to be somewhat safe,” he said, pulling his head back in. “I shall go through. If any of you wish to follow, be aware of the dangers and know that I will soon close this portal to avoid infestation into this temple.”

The Master stepped through the portal, followed quickly by a shrugging Panthar.

(((OOC -- Follow the Master and Panthar into Within The Web of Life in the "Complete Star Wars Unverse" forum, thank you!)))

...but both Panthar and the Master seemed to be talking over his head, as though he really wasn't there. And Aeylmaar...

...well, at the moment at least, he wasn't doing much.

So much for patience.

"We already know what happened to Lord Aelvedaar," Erik growled, eyeing the yawning portal. "What we don't know is where my wife is: you know, the one who is carrying Jharmeen's spirit."

He paused, an urgency filling his heart and soul, his mind spinnign with thoughts. One particular thought grabbed his immediate attention.

You could at least follow them in, to see if Jharmeen's body is still on Degobah, in tact. After all, Shayla sure didn't seem to think she needed anyone else's help to help her mentor at the time of her leaving the group on Tatooine...

So much for patience.

Stepping through the portal then, Erik nearly knocked over the Master as his anxiousness took the upper hand...

(((OCC: Erik moves to Within the Web of Life in the CSWU, thank you.)))

So quickly had they come, bearing their awful burden--

He cast a heavy glance toward the couch upon which Lord Aelvedaar lay, tossing and thrashing every so often as the summoned Healer strove to remove the remaining toxins from his body. Indeed, unbeknownst to all present, although the Dark Lord appeared to be mending, the fact was that he was hovering entirely too close to death. The poison had been eradicated easily enough from his bloodstream, but not before it had spread out into the cells of his body. The Healer had his work cut out for him, and ignored everyone and everything as he focused intently on the task of saving Aelvedaar's life.

This had left Aeylmaar hanging back a little, feeling more than a touch useless.

But now I can do something--

Without saying anything to the others he moved quietly into the shadows, coming to a halt in front of the Crystal Octahedron his father had employed so often. In a low voice he let out a single query; the Octahedron responded, it's greeny-golden waves of essence roiling and churning and melting and melding...

He blinked. Turned toward the others.

"They-- they are both on Dagobah, and appear alive," he said, indicating the Octahedron with a wave of one clawed hand.

If only someone had asked me; I wonder if there is danger present for those who will now follow to fetch the pair?

...and was even more troubled by Aeylmaar's observations.

"Strange that they are both on Degobah, and remain there," he observed simply. "Even stranger that they remain there when the Dark Lord departed, injured."

Shawn's greeny-blues defocused, and he recalled Shayla's sudden departure from Tatooine. Then his eyes snapped alert. "Erik is thinking with his heart, not his head," Shawn observed, standing and glancing at the portal, closing his eyes as a momentary glimpse of his emotional struggle surfaced and immediately disappeared. "We are all in danger, I fear," he said. "We must continue to see to the Dark Lord's injuries, and determine what it is they are doing...

...and what it is that they perhaps plan. Meanwhile..."

Again Shawn paused, pondering. "We should somehow let the others on Degobah know of Jharmeen and Shayla's safety...

...and get them back here, as soon as possible. If necessary, I will go myself and bring them back."

"The plan is sound, human," he said simply as, the motion smooth and effortless, he fell to his knees and laid his hand atop Aelvedaar's forehead. It was cold and clammy beneath his touch.

"Go quickly, before the Portal closes. I can send you to the planet, but I do not know the exact location."

Thoran’s eyes widened, and he rushed to the portal, stopping to peer within it. He saw the Master, Panthar, and the jedi sprawled on the ground, and blinked when he saw the floating body of Erik flying through the air away from the site. Giving an inquisitive look, he turned his head to the nearest person.

“Um,” he said, searching for words. “Something happened…”

He darted through the portal and into the Dagobah swamp beyond it.

...Thoran wasn't returning either. That was plenty of evidence to trigger his suspicions.

"Do you think we should take a look through that thing," he said, nodding towards the Octahedron and hoping Aeylmaar was listening, "And see what's going on? I can't believe they've all been gone this long, just so Petrolu could go and bring everyone back. Maybe they've run into Jharmeen or Shayla...

...but this is too strange."

He stood at that, helping Galen get to a plush chair and seated before turning back to Aeylmaar. "If not, maybe some more of us should go in and have a look...

He sat back on his haunches, frowning now to see that the Portal yet remained open. It shimmered strangely, an impossible rip in the very fabric of space and time.

Blinking, his gaze cut from the Portal to Terrin. For a moment he lowered that gaze, staring to the stone floor of Aelvedaar's great Inner Sanctum as if the answers to all their questions were engraved into the stones upon which he knelt. Certainty eluded him; he frowned more deeply, then looked back to Terrin.

"Take a care in your investigation," he said simply, letting him know by that simple statement that he himself was yet unwilling to move from Lord Aelvedaar's side.

"For if this Portal should close, I would not be able..." He paused, chewing his lip, suddenly aghast at his own stupidity.

What nonsense do I speak? Of course I can recreate this Portal, and in the exact same spot! For the creation of this, so simple a thing, has already been taught to me by my Father.

Saying nothing further, he swiftly rose to his feet, and in three smooth steps reached the Portal. He stepped within... took a mental bearing... stepped back and quickly returned to his Father's side.

Kneeling again, he looked up to Terrin.

"It would do you well to hurry; I now have the location and can recreate this doorway should the one in existence suddenly close itself. But again, take a care, Terrin Danner. For it appears there has indeed been trouble..."

Saying nothing further, feeling he had done all he could do in preparation should anything else go wrong, he turned his attentions back to the occasionally thrashing Lord Aelvedaar and once more lent his aid to that of the Sith Healer's.

He trailed, frowning. "Of course, Petrolu had a lightsaber, and Kartan had a blaster..."

Trailing again, his eyes defocused. Weapons must not have done them a kriffing lot of good.

Turning towards Galen for a bare moment, his look clearly reflected growing concerns. Coming upon a plan, however, Terrin looked Matt and Jasyn's way. "Everyone seems to be going in one at a time then disappearing," he observed. "So here's what I'm thinking. I'm going to go in, take a look, and I want you two to follow in right behind me, taking a minute or two to listen for any sounds of trouble before you enter completely through the portal. I trust you can come up with a...

...creative form of defense if need be."

Pausing at that, Terrin arched an eyebrow Jasyn's way. He was, after all, supposed to be a techie through and through, and a weapons specialist at that. That's why he'd been one of Terrin's chosen men to take to the Sith worlds to begin with, way back in the day.

Jasyn nodded, standing and appearing very eager to take some action, a hint of the typical EE suspicion creeping into his eyes. "Gotcha boss," was all he said as Matt quietly joined them.

Satisfied that both employees were ready to go, Terrin headed for the portal, took a glance into it, took a few steps inside...

...and almost immediately froze in his tracks. "Oh, kriffing hell..." he muttered, turning back towards the two EE employees not far behind here. "Get in here, we have people who are down..."

(((OCC: Follow Terrin into Within the Web of Life in the CSWU.)))

Well, hopefully the Dark Lord will forgive me for this later, came an errant thought. Then, without a word, Jasyn followed Matt and Terrin into the portal, gripping the small lamp's base tightly in one hand, as if preparing to use it to strike at something or someone if necessary.

As Terrin stepped back through the portal, he found both Jasyn and Matt still attending to Panthar, Shawn, and the Master. He scowled a bit to himself at this, recalling how the Master hadn't been all that helpful in assisting Galen when she needed it...

...then dismissed the thought altogether as being something to worry about in another place and time. But for now...

HE turned to the others still within the Sanctum Sanctorum. "Panthar, Petrolu and the Master appear to have good vitals, but seem to be unconcious. Thoran and Kartan...

That could never be forgiven.

His eyes flashed open, and he sat upright in one smooth motion.

“Barbarian,” he said, shaking off the sleep. “So uncivilized, those who rely on blasters to do what they themselves cannot. It was Erik, the fool. I could sense his wife, her force is strong but her other powers are stronger. He could not feel her, and he apparently wanted to find her alone. I take it from his absence here that he has gone missing?”

He stood, looking at Panthar and Shawn.

“I believe she violated out sleep centers,” he continued. “These two will need some gentle coaxing to awaken.”

He stood before Shawn, holding his hand to the side of the Jedi’s face. He then moved his hand slowly outward, mumbled something incomprehensible, and swiftly brought his hand back to slap Shawn hard in the cheek. The Jedi stirred, and the Master turned to Panthar.

“Shayla is there,” he said, looking up to Terrin as he began the same motion with Panthar. “And I could feel another presence, and though I am not completely sure, I feel it was Graysith.” He slapped Panthar, then again for good measure, and moved away to face Terrin.

“I thank you for coming. How is everyone here? Has Aelvedaar or Galen shown any progress?”

Hey, since when the kriffing hell does Galen let anyone answer for her? he noted to himself. In fact, she hasn't so much as spoken a word since you got away from Tatooine.

That observation was quite enough to raise an alarm. Terrin glanced her way, noting that she was getting some color back and seemed to be breathing easy...

...but the lack of any conversation whatsoever...?

...very un-Galen-like.

Terrin hurried over where she was, kneeling down, casting a blue-eyed look full of concern into her deep browns. "Galen?" he queried softly, worry clouding his thoughts once again. He took her by the shoulders, shaking her slightly. "Galen?" he queried again.

Damn you for not picking up on this sooner, Terrin Danner.

He glanced back the Master's way. "Judging by how he's doing," he observed, nodding slightly towards Lord Aelvedaar, "And by the fact she isn't talking, I'd say she needs some more attention."

They do not answer that... and I am suddenly chilled...

...time did not at the moment permit this. For Erik had made his decision and was more than capable of defending himself.

Others here were not so capable, and had made no such choice of their own. Perhaps some would not understand this: but Shawn knew his place was here.

The Force had brought him here, after all.

Getting to his feet, Shawn headed towards Galen to assist her, pausing only momentarily to look JhinDarra's way. "She is not out of the woods yet," he commented unnecessarily. "But you did find a connection back there, on Tatooine, did you not?" he queried simply, non-threateningly. "Your strength and familarity with your mother is very valuable."

Shawn motioned to Galen then, offering her assistance once more as he began to move in her direction. He paused one final moment to glance the Master's way. "Your aid and guidance, my Lord?" he asked, the look in his greeny-blue eyes humble and non-assuming.

Sensing the urgency, however, Shawn did not wait to see if either would come along, but instead headed to Galen's side, once more opening a Force-link with Galen, probing into the very cells which made her, promoting the healing process by channeling the strength of the Force into them. And yet a small portion of him remained alert to sense the approach of much needed assistance of others nearby...

“I don’t understand,” he said. “I can feel her body, there is no sign of the toxin, and the bites are not severe enough to cause…”

His eyes widened.

“Wait…”

He reached further, diving into her mind, seeking out the force that gave her life. There something there, something pulling at him as well. He listened to its sweet voice, its soft music, and for an brief instant felt compelled to follow it.

But the cold balance of the Master came forward, preventing the sounds from having meaning. But he had felt and heard enough, and he now pulled back from Galen’s mind.

"It wants the All back?" he whispered, his blue eyes locking on Galen, his mind racing. "So what about Galen?!" he then asked, his eyes shifting to the Master.

"You said you could help her, that she doesn't know how to deny it...

...so help her."

He looked back to Galen then, wondering if she was even hearing him or sensing him there at all. "Come on Galen, fight it!" Fight for your right to live..."

He trailed at this, shaking her once more, feeling for all the worlds completely at odds with all of the dynamic aspects of what was happening. After all, something Galen had not-so-affectionately named Google Eyes was now fighting to take a portion of itself back, her life now hanging in the balance. But, despite what he did or didn't know or understand about the All and That Which Is or Was or Ever Would be...

...one thing he was certain of. He was not giving up on her, and on her right to live and thrive and have the things that she wanted.

Not ever.

Pausing at that, Shawn's greeny-blues defocused slightly as he considered the problem at hand. And granted, while he did know little of the All, he did know something.

“Come to your mother, child,” he said. “Reach out to her with your heart, with your mind. Connect with that part of her that is you, and allow her to feel the same within you. She needs an anchor, a life force made from her own spirit. Keep her here with us, let her cling to you, and I shall—“

The Master hesitated only the slightest, but a twinge of emotion tried to prevent from completing his sentence.

She blinked, torn.

"I-- I believe Ter- my stepfather has the strongest link in that regard," she said simply, taking another backward step.

Indeed was JhinDarra highly empathic, and had been since birth. She was well aware of a subtle change in the atmosphere of Lord Aelvedaar's Inner Sanctum, and it was the very subtlety of it that gave her sudden and instinctive cause for alarm.

“That link will not do,” he said. “It is a blood link that will save her. Don’t you understand, child? This force feels the strength of the All within your mother, and wishes it. There is no other way to say it, for if it succeeds, your mother will die. She needs your life force to give her the strength to resist, and your own innate power of the All to cling to. Fear not, I shall prevent harm to come to you.”

The Master continued to stare, kneeling before Galen with his hand on her head. Darra still did not come forth, and his expression hardened.

Every cell in her being cried out in pain, every molecule screamed for her to step forward, to kneel beside the fallen Galen, to open herself up to her mother and with the Master's aid bring her back from the strange realms into which she had apparently been dragged.

But yet she balked.

She couldn't define it. She hadn't yet the power, the ability to use what came innately to her to their fullest. All she could rely upon was her uncanny inborn sense of empathy, a sense that even now in before the very real threat of her mother's impending death was screaming for her to stay, to halt, to hold back.

She felt Terrin's incredulous look beat against her, the emotions that washed off of him ranging a gamut from disbelief to outright anger. That emotion was joined by Shawn's, calmer, cooler, but nevertheless very real: a deep concern for her apparent disregard for her mother's life.

Yet she balked.

"I-- I felt..." she began, floundering, her eyes filling with tears at her own futility.

"You-- you paused, there was a pause--"

She fell silent then, staring directly into the Masters stern and angry gaze as a lamb would try to stare down a lion...

...but a lamb which held the innate bravery of a young ram.

“They will not leave without it,” he said. “They must have the power, and she does not have the ability to resist.”

He stood, smoothly, and walked gently to Darra. He reached his hands to her shoulders and held them over her, his eyes now very soft.

“But I do,” he said quietly, almost in a whisper. “I need only for you to be her anchor, and I shall free her of their pull. I will offer them more, and they will leave your mother. But we must hurry.”

He let his hands slide down to take one of hers within them.

She looked to the Master's hand, holding hers so gently as he urged her quietly forward.

Trust. Do I trust him? But if I do not, what will become of Mother?

Her mind raced, seeking answers, not knowing if the words he spoke to them were truth or deception. Felt the continued waves of anger flowing from Terrin, felt the cool concern likewise emanating from Shawn, sensed the confusion wafting from the remainder of their group.

Let her innate skills reach out to Galen... and felt her beginning to withdraw.

"N-no-!" she choked then, shaking her head, but now stepping forward in step with the elder Sith who led her.

"I-- I cannot let her die..."

Please, oh please, I pray to the god of the Sith, lead me down the correct path, that I might assist in saving the life of my mother. And should this prove to be a false path--

Then I pray strength be given to the others, that they might avenge me my fate.

Shuddering, she allowed herself to be led to Galen, knelt at the urging of the Master's hands on her shoulders. Gulping, she paused only a moment or two to compose herself before she laid a tentative hand alongside Galen's cheek.

The voices grew in intensity, sensing a new source beyond the link that had come into being. The Master could feel their desire begin to extend to JhinDarra, and that was when he acted.

He forced a link to open between himself and Galen, and fed a massive amount of energy into it. The force behind the voices diverted their path from JhinDarra and followed the much stronger force. As he had hoped, but in truth was not certain, the link between mother and daughter remained solid, and Galen rooted her spirit within that.

Soon all of the remaining power that had been left by the spiders had flowed from Galen and into the Master. It was more than he had to contend with when he himself was attacked on Tattooine, but still not so much that he could not resist the pull. He detached his link from Galen, allowing her spirit to be soothed and healed by her daughter.

The Master stood and quickly walked away, his mind filled with voices and soft whispers. How sweetly they beckoned, how lovely and pure the promise of their lullaby. He reached the wall, staggering the last two steps, and propped himself with a hand against it as he sank to one knee. He clasped his other hand upon his forehead and concentrated on what he knew to be his purpose for continuing in this world.

Life is a circle, an endless voyage from birth to death to rebirth from the pool. It is not my time to re-enter the pool, the Vong are coming and I must save my race. I must. I needed to live, to stay in this realm, to find my son and unite the Sith under one rule. I – must – I – must – I… I cannot go with you…. Begone!

The voices quieted, and a small echo of dust seemed to steam from the Master’s pores and vanish into the air. He sat quietly for a moment, holding his head, then turned to see if Galen and JhinDarra were all right.

He then turned bleary eyes to Aelvedaar, knowing what his next task had to be, but knowing also that the Dark Lord was under a much more severe attack.

Then it too skitters away, leaving me distraught and disheveled and shocked and filled with the most stupendous joy I have ever felt in my life--

I sat up with a jerk, my eyes wide open. Blinking, I took in the sight of the others, noted the ring of solemn faces which even as I watched were beginning to alter into expressions of relief and happiness.

"What in Hell's Seven Circles is going on?!?" I hollered, sneezing a couple times before bringing my glance round to Terrin. Off to one side was an anxiously hovering Darra, tears standing in her eyes. I reached one arm to her even as the other snaked in Terrin's direction, my own eyes now flooding as the aftermath of whatever it was I just went through struck me with supernova force.

Mother would have died. She would have died, and I stood by letting her suffer.

Her tear-filled eyes glanced to the Master, who was straightening up somewhat shakily, one hand still propping his weight against the wall.

I hadn't trusted. I did not listen with my heart, only my ears and my eyes and my knowledge.

When does that change? When will I know how to use that which I have, to not bring further risk to those I love and am beginning to love?

Sniffling a little she turned away from Galen entirely and glided instead to the Master's side. He was breathing heavily, glancing every so often at the grim form of Lord Aelvedaar, who yet moaned and thrashed upon the couch where he lay.

Darra swiped the tears from her eyes with a movement both angry and swift, then reached out and took one of the Master's great hands between her two small ones.

"I have much to learn," she said softly, peering up into his face, hanging on even as by the touch an empathic bond leaped into being, disclosing to her his trepidation at the task he had yet to perform.

"I shall help you again, if I can, if you will only teach me..."

Okay. So maybe this Master character wasn't so bad.

"Thank you," Terrin said then in the Master's direction. "And Darra..."

He trailed, not knowing how to say what he was thinking, but feeling that he must. "Trust in what's inside you. It's a hard thing to do but..."

He paused, not certain if he was speaking them to Darra or to himself. "Sometimes you have to simply trust."

Holding on a moment longer to Galen, he then spoke to her. "It's so good to have you back," he said softly.

...I'm certain he is in trouble as well, but his circumstances are quite different. He was wanting to go blazing after Shayla, and he really needed to just calm down and think first...

"Shawn," Terrin spoke up, "You all were more than stunned by Erik. The Master said that your sleep centers had been violated, and that Shayla had been close by." He paused a moment. "I think you can do the math," he said a touch darkly.

Then, he turned his attentions back to Galen. "Is there anything you need?" he asked her, clearly still concerned. "Maybe some water...

...or some food?"

“I don’t drink,” he said flatly. He then popped the top off the bottle and drank deeply. He stopped and leaned against the wall, sinking slowly to the ground and letting the bottle rest on the floor beside him.

He looked around the room, his eyes focusing a bit more. He counted heads and shook his own in confusion.

“Erik is an idiot,” he said. “Now we are missing Gray, Phal, Shayla, Erik, and Thoran. And I bet they’re not all having a wild party together in the jungle, either. So, what the heck do we do now?”

"Oh wonderful," I muttered, struggling against the cushions; dang, but the Sith made deep sofas! Straining, I managed to get totally upright, my back against the back of the sofa, my feet dangling over the edge like a little kid's. Terrin shifted, hanging on to me like he would never let go.

"Does someone want to fill me in on what in Hell's Seven Circles happened? To me and what's with Erik shooting people?"

My brow furrowed, then my stomach reminded me that Terrin's earlier words held great merit. I cast a look up into his eyes.

The Master stood, forcing his bearings to slide into place.

“For the time being,” he croaked, coughing to clear his throat. “I suggest we concentrate on the here and now. I know you all care for those who are missing, but if try to wrangle too many neks at once we shall fail with all of them. Our immediate situation is grave, for although Galen and those who came back from Dagobah should recover quickly, I will be frank and tell you that Lord Aelvedaar may die if we do not do something quickly. I now know what ails him.”

The Master walked to the couch where Aelvedaar lay, the healer still attending but glancing up to see the Master stagger once before reaching the couch.

“The spiders that attacked him are more than mere animals,” he continued, resting his hand on the arm of the grand couch. “They are part of the cycle, an embodiment of that which – well, that which is. The life that thrives in that jungle is part of it as well, and the bit that is the living All has touched Aelvedaar deeply. This in itself is good, but it tastes the All within him, the essence of it that is attached to his life force. It wants to bring that back to the center of everything, to feed upon it. He struggles, resisting, but he needs help.”

The Master smiled to JhinDarra.

“Galen suffered the same way, but not as severely. I managed to coax the essence out of her, by offering my power to them instead. Your daughter held you firmly through her own powers, Galen, anchoring herself to you so that you would remain grounded while the strange voices emptied from you. I must do the same for Aelvedaar. But although powerful you are, my dear JhinDarra, you cannot do this alone. There is more than simple power that is needed to keep Aelvedaar’s spirit from giving in and following the voices as they depart.”

The Master turned his head to Aeylmaar.

Then he turned to Galen, sighing. "Erik is thinking with his heart and with testosterone," he replied to her question regarding his brother-in-law's actions rather bluntly. "The situation is not good. While I don't know what is going on with Jharmeen or Shayla...

...I do know that if Shayla had wanted Erik to find her, she wouldn't be blocking her Force-signature from him. I have a bad feeling about this. In the meantime, I fear Lord Aelvedaar's recovery will take quite some time, and in that time, Thoran and Erik will remain missing."

He paused, pursing his lips, considering. "It may be advisable that we go back to Degobah and look for both of them now, for perhaps they too have only been left unconscious somewhere. If we discover this is not the case, we should wait, I think. Our team can only be at its best when every member can contribute...

...and we will need all."

The younger Sith blinked in surprise, for to tell the truth he had never considered himself in this light when it came to his adopted father. Apprentice of long standing, eager student, and yes even Adept he had been to Lord Aelvedaar, but he had always supposed it was for those reasons he had been taken as the Dark Lord's adopted Heir.

Loved?

He blinked again, cutting his eyes to Shawn, who looked as though he wanted to do something, just didn't really know quite what.

"I-- I--" he stammered, still taken somewhat aback; then he firmed with an audible swallow.

"Shawn, I will keep this portal open for you if you wish to return to Dagobah. Please, whoever would remain behind, make use of the Crystal Octahedron; it will show the path your comrades will take, although you will not be able to hear the words that they speak."

Casting another look around himself, he drew in a deep breath. Then he hastened to Lord Aelvedaar's side, where he stood waiting for the Master to join him.

"I am ready," he said simply, and fell silent.

...I will follow the path."

Stating nothing further, asking no one to follow, Shawn moved to take a few steps into the portal, and then into the Degobah swamps. He sensed outward with the Force then, the thronging life of the forest reverberating through his senses til at length he found one of the two essences he searched for...

...but not the other. Although Shawn's look, which usually remained serene, darkened slightly. He stretched out to the one essence he did sense, sent a force-niggle across a the link he had created to it, and came up with not a response, not even so much as a recognition of the call he sent.

He stepped back through the Portal to fill the others in. "Erik is somewhere on the planet, some distance from the portal...

...but he does not seem to recognize or respond to any Force-link I send his way. It's almost as though he is sleeping...

...or unconcscious." He frowned once more. "As for Thoran...

...I don't sense him at all. I will continue sensing for him, however, and will go to find Erik. He doesn't seem to be a long distance away, but some distance away at that. I do not sense either Graysith or Shayla, which has not changed from my last brief visit there. My concern is that one or both of them discovered them, unwelcomed, in the swamps. I will return as soon as possible..."

He paused, looking back towards Aeylmaar and the Master, "And if there is something you need me for, I trust you will be able to find me quickly."

Stating nothing futher, Shawn stepped back into the portal and into the swamps of Degobah.

“Come down here,” he said. “Kneel before your adoptive father. See him as that, for your father he is. For you, he is no mere Dark Lord, for his love for you surpasses all that could be attained through power. Focus on this, and search inside yourself for what you feel for him. Find the great love you are capable of knowing, of showing, and let it guide you to his spirit.”

The Master clasped his other hand around Aelymaar’s, to envelope it. His eyes widened and an urgent expression came to his face.

“You must find his spirit,” he said distinctly. “He is in great pain, and his spirit is under attack. I shall link with you, and then you will enter his mind with me. Do not contact him right away, hang back while I send a very powerful wave of my own energies into the Dark Lord’s mind. I shall them attempt to draw the force within him to me, to convince it that there is more here. While I have their attention, you must then contact his spirit and anchor it, do not allow it to follow the voices to my call. Use all of your love for him, for if his spirit follows the voices then he shall be lost.”

The Master patted the hand between his own.

He paused, his green eyes intense and thoughtful. "I will go with him; if everyone else can watch from back here, that should give us a good counter-strike."

He paused at that, letting Terrin consider. Although Matt could tell he wasn't entirely thrilled with the idea of letting anyone trudge off into Degobah without good back up, slowly Terrin nodded.

"If there's the least bit of trouble..." Terrin started.

Matt simply nodded. "I know. And this way, you will know for certain as well, through the Octahedron."

Another pause, and Matt stepped towards the portal. "We'll be back shortly." And with nothing other than that, Matt Stanza stepped into the portal, not far behind Shawn Petrolu.

(((OCC: Follow Matt into Within the Web of Life in the CSWU.)))

Sure would be nice to bend my legs, and not look like some little toddler sitting in Daddy's chair...

"Hey," I said suddenly as I struggled, now trying to gain some leverage by putting my hands on the cushions behind me and pushing down. That didn't work either, they only sank up to the wrist in softness.

"Umm-- hey," I tried again, blinking with alarm as the second of our party disappeared into the oddly shimmering doorway between places and times.

"Maybe I'm still woozy from all the spider-dancing I was engaged in, but am I the only one to think we're going about this the hard way?"

Terrin grunted, gave me a questioning look, soon followed by Jasyn's own. Aeylmaar and the Master didn't say so much as boo, wrapped up in their weird healing whatsis they were currently engaged in. Which was all right by me; I didn't want to risk inadvertantly breaking any Sithly rules of etiquette but since they weren't looking, what the hey--

I waved a hand at Aeylmaar.

"Didn't he just say we could use the Crystal thingy to see what our comrades are doing?" I asked innocently.

"Well... why can't we use it to find out where Thoran and Erik are? And Sissypoops and Shayla too, for that matter."

Blank looks stared back at me.

"And hey, while we're using the thing, can someone take a gander and find out where in Hell's Seven Circles they've got food around here?"

Standing at that, Terrin helped Galen to her feet, not unaware of just how uncomfortable she seemed on the couch. He didn't let her go, however, remaining close by, knowing that after what she'd been through she wouldn't be so graceful on her feet. He took a couple of steps towards the Octahederon...

...and paused, hesitating. "Ahhh...the guys always just sorta... show us what we want to see, or what they want us to see on this thing...

...so how do you get what you want?" he queried, arching an eyebrow.

"How the kriffing hell are we going to find Jharmeen or Shayla, or Shawn, Matt, Erik, or Thoran with this thing?"

As if hearing his words...

...and maybe it was at that...

...the Octahedron began to swirl into a clearer greeny-goldness as an image began to emerge...

"A bar?!?" I sputtered, staring at the image of Thoran perched big as you please on what was unquestionably a barstool, someone who was obviously a bartender leaning on the bar's counter wiping a glass in front of him. The bartender's mouth was working, as if he was asking Thoran something; from what I could tell in the strangely colored image, that worthy sat there, the unmistakable ruby red of WalknFall filling the glass he held and no doubt his stomach as well, a self-pleased sort of grin plastered across his face.

"What the--!" I repeated with another indignant sputter.

"How in Hell's Seven Circles did he get in a bar?!"

((OOC: Readers, to find out how Thoran got into a bar, and just which bar he wound up in, heh, follow his trail from Within the Web of Life in the "CSWU" forums across into The Dream of Those Who Wake in the "Empire/New Republic" forums, approximately this date, thank you.))

He trailed, sighing disgustedly. "At any rate, there doesn't seem to be any reason to worry about his immediate circumstances. He seems to be faring quiet well. Although, it's rather strange..."

Again, he paused, frowning now in thought. "That bar somehow seems familar to me...

...but then one bar would look like another, I suppose."

He shrugged, still not totally convinced with his own explanation of the familarity. "At any rate, it seems the Octahedron focuses on one subject at a time, and at that the last one that you ask about. So," he finished, looking back towards the Octahedron, "Where is Jharmeen and Shayla?"

Terrin had barely finished the words as the Octahedron's greeny-goldness began to shift and roil again until a new image appeared, one of Shayla, dressed in full black, ascending a staircase of sorts as one who looked like nothing other than a Sith warrior approached her, stopped, and mouthed something in her direction.

A Sith warrior? was all Terrin could think.

"K'eel Doba?" he asked in somewhat stunned, quiet observation, falling silent.

"What in Hell's Seven Circles is going on here?!" I erupted, gawping right alongside Terrin to see Shayla standing in all places but the city streets of Phrinnchatka. For that city was unmistakable; all Sith cities bore their own unique architectural signatures, and the strange devices I could see apparently muttering to themselves in the background clearly denoted the fact that yes, this was Phrinnchatka.

Who the Sith was that was speaking with Shayla was never resolved, for all of a sudden the Octahedron went completely blank, as if somewhere within its roiling greeny-goldness a camera shutter had been forced to close rapidly down in the face of--

Something.

Then the image returned, an awful image, one of chaos and confusion and destruction, with Sith moving like shadows amidst what looked to be smoke and flame.

"What in Hell's Seven Circles--!" I repeated, a hand going to my lips as if to stifle those now whispered words. Then before my disbelieving eyes the Octahedron showed the familiarity of an opening Portal, through which stepped who else but dear ol' Sissypoops. She took a gander about herself, raised a hand -- presumably to utilize that damnable power she had, for suddenly it began raining hard enough to put out the flames -- and then turned to two figures who lay writhing on the ground.

"Oh... no!"

Even though they were both antagonistic to us, deep in my heart of hearts I really didn't wish harm on anyone, even to the one now revealed by the cold and impersonal eye of the Crystal Octahedron.

"It's-- it's Shayla. She's been hurt--!"

Before anyone could comment, Sissypoops went to Shayla's side, knelt briefly, scooped her up, and in regaining her feet raised the other body from the ground. Another portal shimmered into life next to them; the wonder of where the hell that one led to didn't even form in my head, for simultaneously I could hear the unmistakable thrummm-shhlpptk as one in turned formed...

"She's standing right behind us, isn't she Terrin?" I commented, closing my eyes with a sigh for a brief moment as her gaze, dagger-sharp, raked my back in its progress around the chamber in which we all remained.

((OOC: Readers, to discover just what Galen and Terrin were observing in the Crystal Octahedron, please go to The Saving of a Soul in the "Jedi/Sith" forums, this date, thank you.))

Struggling with the effort to maintain an aura of power and control in the face of the terrible pain she was sharing with her Adept, Graysith stepped shakily into the Inner Sanctum of Lord Aelvedaar. Beside her there floated the horribly burned body of the still-living Kelvendar, his face a blackened lump, his chest and shoulders and legs charred from the blast into which he had so recently faced.

In her arms she bore the now-moaning form of Shayla, cushioned on a carefully maintained pad of atmosphere that she would not experience any further pain caused by being carried, what remained of her golden locks falling to hang limp and wet against Graysith's torso.

Expecting an empty chamber, or perhaps one occupied only by her mentor, she stopped in place. A quick glance about told her who was there, the same glance taking in the notable exceptions.

As well as it took in the form of the Dark Lord, who thrashed and moaned upon the couch on which he lay. Kneeling there beside him, Aeylmaar and the Master turned partially, surprise now widening their eyes which then narrowed into four, determined slits.

Graysith stiffened, her momentary disheartenment at Lord Aelvedaar's predicament disappearing as another plan revealed itself.

"Aid me to heal her, to heal them," she commanded as she took another dripping step toward the Master, the eerily floating Kelvendar following along like an obedient nek, her posture stiff with the growing effort it took to conceal the depths of weariness and despair into which she was rapidly sinking.

...and the next, fires raged within Prinn'chatka, within her body...

...and within her mind.

Oh the burning, the burning...

She groaned, trying to keep from thrashing...

...for she knew who was with her.

Could he...? was all the coherent thought she could put together, not even coherent enough to stretch to her own powers to comfort herself, for even a healer needs a healer when she is racked by such searing, burning, pain. Stretch out for healing she might, but she was unable to complete the task for the loss of a steady stream of thought to finish the attempt.

Her body, heart, and soul was simply on fire.

Still, there was yet a bit of defiance lurking deeply rooted within, a strand that kept her from falling completely to the pain. So, while she shuddered in effort to still the muscle spasms of great and soul-encompassing pain, moaning in agony every few moments...

...she yet remained alert.

"Healing will soon begin, and in force."

Knowing that her own powers were not enough to heal her Adept instantaneously, and perhaps would not be able to ward off death on their own accord, she nevertheless sent a tendril of healing All into Shayla's body, lending her her own strength even as she willingly took up some of Shayla's pain that she could then cycle it away and be done with it. She gasped as that tendril reached deeply into Shayla's nerve endings, first initiating the start of actual cellular healing before starting the regeneration of those nerves whose endings had been burnt off, then calming those which were unhindered but firing in so wild a reaction due to the trauma they had been subjected to.

In her arms, Shayla moaned again, her head lolling as the battle was joined; Graysith grunted, her own arms trembling now with the sustained effort of holding her Adept, but nothing short of death would induce her into laying the young woman down.

She stared more intently into the eyes of the Master, for the moment utterly ignoring the Chosen Son of Lord Aelvedaar.

"Please," she said simply, her eyes burning dark hollows into her face, her hair hanging in curling wet tendrils about her shoulders.

...who carried the spirit of Jharmeen herself. He remembered what had happened. And it wasn't that he wanted anyone in pain either. It was just the fact that Galen had just been healed, and her strength most definitely wasn't up just yet...

...and Terrin didn't want her hurt again. He was well aware of the power Jharmeen held and could use if her plea was refused. On instinct, his grip her tightened, as if the motion itself would protect. "Yes," he answered Galen's question softly, knowing she already knew the answer anyway.

Then, still continuing to give Galen the support of his frame behind hers, his arms on her, Terrin turned just enough to see Jharmeen, arms trembling, hair dripping wet, fire and determination deep in her eyes as she held a burned, listless Shayla and carried an injured, burned Sith with her powers. He wasn't even really aware his hold on Galen tightened just a bit more.

Oh hell, who and what had caused this sort of injury?

The gods forbid that the Master didn't figure out some way to comply with Jharmeen's request. Terrin didn't like being totally out of control in regards to all of this, either. But perhaps there was something he could see to being done.

"Jasyn," he said, looking towards the brown-eyed man whose usual complaints and groaning had totally disappeared. "Help get her to the couch." As he said this, Terrin nodded in the direction of Graysith and Shayla. Then he nodded towards Kalvendar, "And find a place for him too."

Terrin was willing to help. But he wasn't willing to move an milimeter just yet until he knew there was no possible threat to Galen in all this.

Kriffing hell.

Then, giving Terrin a single nod, Jasyn approached Jharmeen and actually rather gently took Shayla from Graysith's trembling grip. Nevertheless, Shayla groaned and shuddered, although not quite so much as she had when she and Jharmeen had first appeared. He took Shayla to the aformentioned soft ocuch where Terrin had only a little while before place Galen, laying her out on it as carefully as he could although she remained hovering as though suspended in space by some unforseen force. Then, finding another available couch in the Inner Sanctum, he nodded towards the couch, knowing he could not carry the Sith on his own. With a little assistance, Klavendar ws placed on the couch in the same manner that Shayla was, also hovering...

...and then they all waited to see just what the Master would do or say.

“Shay-“ he started. Before he knew it, he went to a knee involuntarily. By the time he got back to his feet, Shayla was no longer in Jharmeen’s arms.

He scanned the room and saw her sort of hovering over a couch. He began walking carefully to her, but was interrupted by Jasyn, who needed help with the large Sith.

After struggling with moving the Sith to another couch, Panthar returned to Shayla's side. After realizing the extent of her injuries, he turned his concerned eyes to Jharmeen. Words could not come, and he could only offer an open-mouthed look of “how?” before he also turned to look at the Master.

“I will,” he said, nodding slightly. He looked at Aelymaar, his eyes showing confidence.

“Concentrate your feelings for him, prepare yourself and I shall return in a moment.”

The Master stood, holding his hand to his side to prevent it from shaking. He walked to Shayla, putting his hand on Panthar’s shoulder. He surveyed the burns, chewed slightly on his lower lip, then turned to face Graysith.

“There is much cell restoration that must be performed,” he said. “It will take some time to aid in her complete recovery, but we must first aid her body with the shock. I am capable of fusing oxygen into her system, and can give you much assistance in the healing process. There is much that Sith magick can do for her, as well.”

He raised his eyebrows slightly.

“If only we had the Finger of R’lous,” he mused. He shook his head a little, and looked Graysith directly in the eyes. “I can stabilize them both very quickly, but Lord Aelvedaar suffers greatly and is also in great need of assistance. I suggest that after I do this for them, you place them within a k’kleck-tha…”

Graysith’s blank stare made the Master realize that the word was not understood.

“A loop – a suspension – an eternal now. You have the ability, and it shall prevent further problems to develop while I and Aeylmaar heal Aelvedaar. Then with his added assistance, the health of these two will be assured.”

The Master’s eyes narrowed slightly in thought. “And the return of Phalomir depends upon the recovery of Aelvedaar as well.”

He paused, then smiled slightly.

"This is unacceptable," she said succinctly, now letting her displeasure flash forth in both her bearing and her expression. A stray tendril of hair fell into her face; with a little toss of her head she moved it out of her way, clenching her hands at her sides all the while.

"I could have placed Shayla into the eternal now that you speak of long ago, for I am well familiar with the practice, having utilized it before in the past. But this is an anathema to me, as well as to the health of my Chosen Sister."

A quick cut of her eyes to Galen, whose face seemed to fall a little upon hearing that. They cut back into the Master's just as swiftly.

She straightened even further.

"You have stated your ability to heal Lord Aelvedaar--" Here she nodded to the Dark Lord, who let out a deep, bass moan, one hand flopping over the side of the couch. "The tattoos you carry bespeak of the powers that you hold within you.

"Those powers will now be used to assist in the healing of my Sister and Adept, or else I shall be very, very...

“I will aid them,” he said. “But not because I am commanded to do so. There are people in this room, and elsewhere, who have risked their lives to ensure your safety. There is no need to command them as subjects, Dark Lady.”

The Master then turned to Shayla, once again surveying the superficial damage the fire had caused. He then held out his hands over Shayla, and called upon his magick. He felt the air around her, then upon her, and used that sense to find the worse damage. Having done that, he reached out further using his All senses and reached within those areas of damaged cells. He then concentrated on each cell as he encountered it, manipulating the molecules and forcing each cell to stitch itself back to health. At the same time he force oxygen from the air into Shayla’s blood cells, hoping to relieve the symptoms of shock.

In what to the Master seemed like an eternity, but in reality took only a minute, he had repaired the most damaged areas on Shayla’s body and re-oxygenated her bloodstream. He took a step back and turned weary eyes to Graysith.

“She will live,” he said. “We can deal with her other injuries after the lives of your warrior and Lord Aelvedaar are saved.”

He glanced at the couch where Aelvedaar lay. Aeylmaar was staring intently at Aelvedaar, and the Master could feel the concentration the younger was emanating.

He is focusing on the feelings he senses from the Dark Lord. I will have enough time to deal with her warrior.

The Master turned again to Graysith.

“In the meantime, I suggest you sit and rest. I can sense you are weary.”

Graysith reached out a hand and laid it on Shayla's chest. Closing her eyes, she sensed deeply within her Adept: the Master was true to his word, and had done a magnificent job in eradicating most of the critical damage to her system. Now all she needed was time to recuperate from the mental and emotional trauma she had gone through, and allow her skin, newly growing, to thicken and strengthen.

With a little sigh of relief Graysith released the protective pad of air she had been maintaining about her, watched as Shayla slowly settled to the cushions. One eye cocked toward the couch upon which her Mentor lay; something fluttered deep within her to see him there, moaning and occasionally thrashing beneath Aeylmaar's careful scrutiny.

The other eye shot a sideways glance toward the Master, who was now occupied in the healing of the unknown Sith. Another quick glance about; the only other person nearby was Panthar, who stood like a gandy-rak in headlights as if wondering just what it was he was supposed to be doing.

Graysith smiled darkly, debating with herself as to what course of action she should follow. The hand on Shayla's body moved to her cheek.

"The injury done to you shall be avenged, my dear," she thought, letting that vow enter into the sleeping Shayla like a bit of a dream.

Then she bent, scooped her up in her arms again and before any could stop her returned to K'eel Doba through the still-open portal she had created...

((OOC: Graysith returns Shayla to the Temple of the Warriors in The Saving of a Soul in the "Jedi/Sith" forums, thank you.))

...only to reappear moments later, empty-handed, assured her Adept was safely in the hands of her warriors, who would now watch over her progress.

She stood silent a moment, watching the Master, before finally speaking up.

"I am curious," she said smoothly.

“You have known me only as the Master,” he said, looking first to Graysith, then to everyone else in the room. “During that time I was under the influence of the Darkness of the Realm I had come to inhabit. My association with that realm was begat by my desperation to save my people, a mission I still persist upon, albeit in a different way. There is a force approaching our galaxy, and I had set upon a course to use the power of the Darker Realms to defeat that force. I was wrong, and see now that only through unity of the Sith can this be accomplished, for under our rule the galaxy will be unconquerable.”

The Master straightened, his strength returning in small amounts.

“Clues to your fire?” he asked, reaching out with his magicks again, this time to wrap around one of the white hairs. While not able to see the unknown, the magick was able to trace the known. A sudden image flashed into the Master’s mind, a time when we has thoroughly influenced by the darkness, but he still was conscience and aware of his actions. In this image he saw himself speaking with ShaRhylla, and suddenly dealing with the intrusion of a strange looking Sith. But a Sith he truly was not, for deep within there was something else. It was the one the small impish spawn called “idiot boy”.

Graysith paused a moment, then turned and walked a few paces to where the Crystal Octahedron stood. Tall, elegant, it stood in greeny-golden splendor, it's essences moving fluidly within it's transparent crystalline walls. She laid a cool hand upon its smooth surface, immediately flashing back to the day she had first discovered the device deep in Darth Wicked's lair, and how she had used it and other, long-silent devices to snatch Lord Aelvedaar from the hands of death four thousand years in the past, and bring him into the here and now.

She forced the thought from her mind with a grunt, then lifted her chin.

"Show me the origin of the most recent explosion in the Ch'arlingua transport system in Phrinnchatka," she commanded, then watched as the device instantly obeyed, revealing to all present what she had already known.

She turned round to face the Master again, one hand gesturing toward the scene depicted in the eerily roiling stuff which was the warp and weft of the Octahedron.

"He bears many Tattoos, and is of the Ancient Clan of the Assassins. For some reason, he has taken it upon himself to hate me..."

She paused a moment, allowing a corner of her lip to curl.

"...and I believe he has gone out of his way in the attempt to woo my daughter, ShaRhylla. It has come to my ears that he has taken her as his bride."

She spat out the word as if it was something foul. Then she approached the Master once again, stopped a few paces from him, noting from the corner of her eye the positions where Terrin stood, Galen in his arms, as well as where JhinDarra stood in equal and somewhat awed silence.

"This shall never do," she commented lightly and fell silent, once more staring directly into the Master's eyes, her own darkening to pools of ebony in her face.

The portal finally came into view. Matt headed for it, increasing his hurried speed, and skidding into it much to the surprise of the others and to the suprise of one of the last individuals in the universe he would have expected to see in that room:

Jharmeen Jhin'Dar Qu'taro, Dark Lady of the Warrior Clan.

Matt paused for only a brief moment, managing his surprise fairly well. After he took a deep breath, he cast worried and intense green eyes on each of the others in the room. "Shawn has been taken by some snake-like bog creature," he explained. "I just couldn't help him on my own; we have to hurry, the thing is mad...

...after all, it only got to Shawn after he rescued me from its grasp."

Slowly she turned, gave the agitated man a glance that was both intent and cool.

“Gather those capable of helping – guards, sorcerers, and a healer – and follow this human. The one lost is of some importance to us.”

He then faced Graysith again.

“I shall aid you, but after I finish my duties with Lord Aelvedaar. If… anything should happen, find Phalomir, please.”

The servant that shuffled from the room was returning, and by this the Master was deep in silent thought and kneeling next to Aeylmaar. Being the only other Sith in the room not presently occupied, the servant turned to Panthar and bowed slightly. Behind him, walking through the doorway, were two uniformed guards and a robed Sith. The servant looked at Panthar expectantly.

Panthar sighed.

He walked quickly to the table of food, grabbed a piece of fruit for the trip, and as a quick thought he grabbed a yellow flower that served as a garnish. He trimmed the stem and ran the flower into his belt, and giving a satisfied nod he turned to Matt.

“Well then,” he said. “We’d better be off.”

Panthar tossed the fruit up and caught it again, taking a bite out of it as he did so. He walked through the portal and turned, waiting for the others to follow.

(((OCC: Panthar heads back to the swamps in Within the Web of Life in CSWU.)))

I blinked, a little startled by events, as Panthar and his little Sith entourage disappeared through the Portal back to Dagobah once again. Matt stood a little ways back, staring at both the Master and Sissypoops as though he wanted to wring both their necks.

I wouldn't even think about going there, pal, I thought, trying to send that warning to Matt by the intensity of the look I was now sending him. Whether he got the message or not remained to be seen; sighing a little, I stepped away from Terrin.

"Go on now, go help them. It sounds like they might need all the brawn they can get."

I gave him a little push in the direction of the Portal, but didn't release him. Chewing my lip, I thought things over a bit more.

"On second thought, let me go help too. Can't say as there's much I can do to assist anybody here; Darra, you come along too, ok kiddo?"

Then with no further ado I marched to the Portal, now dragging Terrin unceremoniously along. Truth be known, I didn't want to be hanging around here in this musty old Temple with Sissy and the Master being the only Sith still on their feet. Well, except for Aeylmaar, but he was so wrapped up with his dear ol' daddy I didn't know if I could really count on him if anything untoward happened to happen.

Better the dragonsnakes on Dagobah than that! I thought with a shudder, recalling the absolutely reptilian look Jharmeen had cast Matt's way. Then I stepped through the Portal and into the web of life...

((OOC: Follow Galen back into Within the Web of Life in the "CSWU" forums, thank you.))

Anchor him, do not let his spirit stray.

The Master then paused, gathering his own strength and will, then sent out a tendril of his own to touch the spirit of Aelvedaar, then along that link a surge of All power. The voices did not alter. He sent out another, slightly stronger, then another. Finally he let loose a pulse of All power, a strong signal to any who could sense it. The voices paused, then a whispered hush began to flow along that link, a whisper that grew in intensity as it came closer.

The Master braced himself, focusing on the things that made him strong. The will of his spirit, the love for his son, and determination that would indeed save the galaxy and place the Sith back atop the rule of the many worlds. The voices came to a crescendo all around him, calling to him.

Life begets life, it is all in the cycle

It was so simple. The voices, they knew their purpose in the grand cycle, and was good. Life is itself its own reason, and the perpetuating circle of life and death were the natural order of all in the fabric of existence. Mortality of one ensuring immortality of all.

Join us, be one with the cycle

Yes, we are all one with the cycle, one within the great and glorious scheme of existence. The voices are telling me this, they do not lie, they do not dilute the truth. They are giving to me the freedom that is eternal, the freedom that is my right…

The master pulled away from Aelvedaar, cutting the link. His body shivered and he slumped forward, falling to his side and rolling his legs up to his chin. He then trembled on the floor.

But to exist until my time is also my right, and by leaving this body before that time breaks that pact.

The voices remained strong, and the Master struggled hard to maintain his concentration. He managed to open his eyes, and saw Aeylmaar staring back at him, holding the hand of a calm Aelvedaar.

And perhaps Shawn's situation wasn't totally out of his control. Maybe, anyway.

As Galen pulled him along through the portal, Terrin turned to look over his shoulder to confirm what he already knew...

...Matt and Jasyn were both right behind him...

...so off they all went into the portal.

What was that one phrase Galen sometimes used? Ahhhh, yes. Same song, second verse...

(((OCC: Follow Terrin, Matt, and Jasyn into Within the Web of Life in the CSWU.)))

I nod, then speak.

"What has been occurring during my foray into near-madness... and where is the remainder of our party?"

Something moves in the shadows of what I now recognize as being my Sanctum Sanctorum; something with hair that glints a burnished copper red...

“My thanks to you,” he said. “Much has occurred, indeed. But the time for tales is short, for the Lady is restored and has pressing matters which require our assistance. Shayla is in her care, and the others are on Dagobah, via this portal, searching for the Jedi and Thoran.”

The Master’s eyes shot to Graysith, then back to Aelvedaar.

I grunt, turn back to Aelomir, peer deeply into his eyes, studying them intently.

"Yes, I hold the key to Lord Phalomir's retrieval," I state in a matter of fact voice. Then, my voice no less matter of fact, I continue.

"But I will not."

Events began to click, and a feeling of stone cold dread niggled its way into his mind. He stiffened slightly, then turned his attention back to Aelvedaar.

My eyes narrow a touch, darken to molten amber beneath partly slitted lids.

“He is my son,” he said. “As any father would, I wish him safely returned."

The Master looked down slightly.

“Under the influence of the darkness, I was responsible for many – terrible – things that were done to him. I need to see him, to ask for his forgiveness.”

The Master turned his head to the wall briefly, then faced Aelvedaar once again.

I counter Aelomir's eyes with my own.

"There is more to the Dark than what we have seen, my-- friend."

Another quick glance at the Dark Lady; she has turned away, seeming nonchalant. A slight frown creases my features, a small tremble thrills through me.

It is as if the very air is utterly alive, electrified.

"I can send you to him, to make your amends," I offer then, truly at a momentary loss as to who to completely trust, who to not. For the blackness was encapsulated...

...at least a part of it was. Lord Roan, by the use of the Nar Kelba had seen to that.

But no. A Nar Kelba.

And there was yet the matter of the dopplegangers, brought here by who, to disappear into where--?

I rear back, look upon Aelomir with great intent.

"I can send you to him, to make your amends," I repeat, staring deeply into his eyes, waiting to see if the understanding behind the words that I now speak will ever truly dawn in his own.

“Well do I know the Dark, my Lord,” he said. “It was part of my being for a long time indeed, and it’s presence I can feel in the shadows of our world. It touched many, as it still touches some, but it is not present here with us today. Only those who have held the darkness in the past are among us here.”

The Master looked to Graysith, then back to Aelvedaar. He lowered his head and turned, looking at the designs on the wall as he stepped forward. He paused, standing near the humming portal, and turned back to Aelvedaar.

“Your judgment must indeed be based upon great wisdom, but I must offer my concern that one Dark Lord has done such a thing to another without explanation. I am sure the Dark Lady Graysith shares my concern, having crossed into the Darker Realms to save Phalomir, as he himself had done for her. I also regret that my personal grief over my past actions ways too heavily upon my mind, and my assistance to the Dark Lady Graysith is impossible without my son.”

The Master looked to Graysith, eyes deep.

She stared boldly down her nose at the Master, ignoring Lord Aelvedaar and his rising unease, letting her lip join her nostril in a curl of disdain.

"Your pitiful goal of Sith unity will never come about!" she finally spat, now stepping daintily back as if away from something dark that crawled on the floor.

"For my dear Master, you seem to forget. This tragic plan of yours depends not only upon your son, Lord Phalomir--"

A quick pause, a frisson of a shudder even more tenuous.

"--but upon me as well. And that is something you -- or he -- shall never obtain!"

With that, and before anyone could so much as blink, she quickly rent a tear in the fabric of reality and stepped through it back to her Adept's side on K'eel Doba.

It closed in her wake with an abrupt and peculiar finality...

((OOC: Follow Graysith back into The Saving of a Soul in the "Jedi/Sith" forums, thank you.))

“She has been touched by the Darkness, my Lord,” he said. “But she is not possessed by it, not under it’s control.”

He stepped away from the portal to Dagobah, and towards the Octahedron.

“I know your hesitance in returning my son to me,” he continued. “But you must ask yourself why, for I sense another motive beyond suspicion of the darkness that you fear is within him. It is not, I assure you. Not by my hand, at the least.”

The Master stopped and turned back to Aelvedaar.

"Enough!" I roar into the miasma which strives to fill my vision, the moment come and gone, now striving to reduce the volcano which has erupted so swiftly within me.

"Aelomir, you go too far!"

A timeless moment passes, one that I fill by turning away and striding heatedly away. For another moment I stand quiet, keenly aware of the shock radiating from Aeylmaar; then, my senses a bit more under control I turn back to the fallen Lord.

"You think yourself the Vessel of Knowledge when it comes to things of the Dark," I begin, my voice low and quiet but shaking with barely controlled rage. At whom--? That has yet to be resolved.

I swallow, strive for more self-control, and continue.

"I know more than you are aware of, my dear Aelomir. Enough to know that she indeed is held within the thrall of dark, perhaps at the control of another, perhaps not. Perhaps she has merely remembered who she is--"

I pause, snap my mouth shut, turn away even as the remainder of that sentence floats silently upon the crowded air:

--as I remember no one can take from me that which I have truly never had...

“I know the Darkness has touched you, my Lord,” he said. “I admire you for your power of control, and for what you have done for the Sith. I apologize for my methods, but the truth must be known between us all.”

Aelomir walked to the center of the room once more, waving his bloodied hand over the Crystal Octahedron.

“The Lady was touched by the Darkness, it flowed within her spirit even as the Tower crumbled about us. I did not realize it at the time, I was coming to terms with my own freedom and knew not what I felt. But I had the thing within me, in control of me, and seared into my very spirit. It gave me abilities, powers beyond any which we have known. And with that came knowledge of things around me, things which I now share with you.”

“Roan,” Aelomir frowned, “or more the point, that which pretends to be Roan, has a Nar Kelba. He also has the only thing which could be used to combat it, that which he used in conjunction with the Nar Kelba to bring down the Tower.”

He looked directly into the eyes of Aelvedaar.

“But nothing eternal can truly die, it shall be reborn in a most foul way.”

He returned his eyes to the device before him.

“That is but one of our problems. Timelines are a thing of wonder, my Lord. I feel you know my lineage, and thus know that of Phalomir. I ask you one small favor, Lord Aelvedaar. You have before you the Crystal Octahedron, a device which I myself, in another time, have possessed. It is what led me to my studies, and to my successful understanding of time.

“You see, through actions of myself, and of others, we have been brought together in a splinter of our time. Timelines, though they may splinter and diverge, all struggle to steer back to the original plan. Sometimes they succeed, often times more they fail, and twist about in a frolicking rope of possibilities. Ours, however, is trying desperately. Gaze now into the device, see what I see. See how this timeline has steered itself, the fruit of passion already planted within one so bold as to deny the love she freely gave. See the beginnings of the Unity which she so vehemently denies is possible. See the true miracle that but one night of true love can produce, and why we must know her intentions.”

The foggy vision in the device cleared, revealing a dark liquid realm. Beyond the coursing rivers of blood, the myriad of bones and body tissues, sat a single tiny collection of cells. Connected by a single thread, it pursued its course of dividing cell after cell, growing eventually into something greater.

“It shall be male,” said Aelomir. “It shall be Sith.”

My hand, a fist tightly clenching my robes, leads me to Aelomir's side where I join him in gazing deeply into the Octahedron which is my creation. The briefest tremble courses through my body; then--

"You do not know her as I do, Aelomir," I open darkly, turning away from the tiny halfling embryo which even as I watch shudders into another division of itself. My hand unclenches, waves ambiguously, as if trying to push the image of the tiny babe away from me.

"You know her only from what this device has shown you, as indeed through a glass but darkly; I know her from years of studying, from reaching out and actively seeking, that you might now be here speaking to me as you do!"

I fall into a brief and embarrassed silence as images of love after love flow against suddenly unseeing eyes:

Wicked. Roan. Recinis.

Now Phalomir.

All come... and now, all gone. And with the exception of one, all Sith...

"In being Light, to love the Dark one cannot help but take it within oneself," I murmur in strange non sequiteur.

"And she would never accept my own as atonement for the path I had placed her upon."

Yet more silence fills my Sanctum Sanctorum, silence lightly punctuated by the soft sounds of footfalls. The awareness of a presence close by swells within me even as Aeylmaar drops a quiet and obviously sympathetic hand atop my shoulder. A garbled laugh bubbles forth from my lips; choking it back, I merely place my own hand atop his and turn back to Aelomir.

"You must understand; surely you already do--"

I peer into his eyes, searching deeply, running afoul only of this insane plan of unity which he carries so vehemently within. That sparks a touch of anger, neatly clipping me from my own rising self-pity; with a small snort I straighten, now once more fully in control of myself.

"She is what she is because I created her. She holds what she holds due to that. Don't you understand, Aelomir?

"She is Light... and she is Dark. Somehow both, separate yet united, one and one making one more powerful, more strong, like wavelengths amplifying. Not merely happiness exchanging momentary places with despair, or love with anger; no. it is more, it had to be more.

"Else she could not have that within her necessary to return our people to life."

I flounder; it is a strange sensation, this new inability to express myself. How to make him see? How to make him understand? Her pulling away; indeed, she has intentions of her own. But intentions not born out of hatred or anger or any other lesser human emotion.

Only pure and unadulterated Dark.

I shake my head, exasperated.

"Your plan for unity, this insane need to unite us under one Rule... it cannot be now, Aelomir. This--"

I wave my hand toward the image yet floating innocuously within the Octahedron.

"--will never allow that to be. She will never allow it to be. And--"

A pause now, for a fortifying inhalation of breath, the sounds of my own sorcerer clan comingling strongly with those of the armorers who share Khar Delba with me.

"The Sith will never allow it to be. I advise you to put such nonsense from you, to attend instead to this new threat, along with the approach of an enemy so terrible it will take the unification of the Galaxy to stop them.

“No,” he muttered. “No, it has to be…”

He closed his eyes, shaking more. His hand went to his head as if he were in pain.

“From the main timeline,” he mumbled, barely heard by the others, “my timeline, there was unity – there was Phalomir, and Graysith, and their son. The hopes of all rested upon that – the triad within one – but, how? How could the timeline break so radically from that which had to be – unless…”

The Master’s eyes snapped open, showing clarity. He stared at Aelvedaar intently.

“You created her,” he said simply. “You reached forward, through time, and found her. You, from the past, and I, from her future… she has been touched by time in both directions – by the Greater Gods, Aelvedaar, she is more than what you say.”

The Master turned away, staring into the now blank Octahedron. His face relaxed as he thought deeply, a new resolve and acceptance entering into him.

“We both know the dangers approaching us,” he said. “I have seen it first-hand, which is why I am here now. I shall defer to your advice, and seek an answer to the invasion.”

He looked back to Aelvedaar, face hollow.

“It has been my task, my vision. Perhaps my tactics were flawed, but my resolve remains. I love my race, and I do not wish to see it end. Too much time has been lost already. Let us return to the basics which made us great, my Lord. Please, bring back my son, let there be a council of the Triad.”

I cut my eyes to Aelomir, but speak nothing of these trepidations.

"And who is to speak for the House of the Warriors?" I ask him, point-blank.

Chewing my lip, I wave the image into obscurity and turn back to Aelomir.

"It would appear your one request will be fulfilled, and now," I state, bowing to the need of the Sith for True Leadership, leadership truly and direly needed now that we are in the timeline that we are, with what we know is soon to come.

With no further ado, I curl my middle and ring fingers against my thumb, extend the forefinger and pinky, mutter an incantation, and promptly release Lord Phalomir from the Mobius time-loop upon which I have placed him.

The group seemed to be lagging behind, and every second wasted was one more that Jharmeen’s spirit stayed in danger, and this infuriated Phalomir. The instant he decided to turn and speak was the instant the view of the distant temple turned into a view of a dimly lighted room.

He paused, momentarily confused. He jerked himself around, moving into a defensive stance. His eyes met the Master’s, who was staring happily. A maddening hatred filled him, and before he knew it he had launched himself at the Master. Phalomir plowed into the Master, wrapping his large hands around the smaller Sith’s throat. In an instant, he on top, and reared back his fist to strike. Then suddenly the Master was gone, leaving Phalomir alone on the floor.

Phalomir looked around frantically, and a donning realization as to where he was gave him pause. He stood, breathing heavily, meeting the surprised face of Aeylmaar with his own. He then realized it was Aelvedaar who stood with his back turned, and the Master now stood beyond, next to the wall.

“Heavy words are difficult to bear,” said the Master, slicing through the thickening silence. “More so when one tries to explain actions that were wrong. You have been trapped by circumstance, my son, and have just been released from a prison you had no knowledge of. Do not blame Aelvedaar, blame only the Darkness which has beguiled and wounded us all.”

He stepped forward, closer to Aelvedaar.

“Hate me now, my son, but as you grasp what has happened you must come to know that we are all family, and we must be united in a cause. Think beyond what you feel for her, beyond your self needs, and listen without prejudice for a moment.”

The Master bowed to Aelvedaar.

“He will not believe me, my Lord, he must hear it from you.”

I bow my head, my grip tightening upon the shoulder of my Chosen Son, who adept that he is reaches up a hand to lay in comfort atop mine. But the realization that this cannot postpone any longer the words which need saying strikes a hard and chiming chord within me; I sigh and at last turn to face Lord Phalomir.

"The words of your father are true ones, Lord Phalomir. And now you must pay great heed to that which you might not wish to hear."

With no more introduction than that, I quickly and concisely inform him of all that has happened to us in his unwilling exile from reality, sparing no word or nuance...

But the tale ended with the greatest horror of all for Phalomir. The Darkness had invaded Jharmeen, and had awoken that which Phalomir thought was gone from her. Now, according to Aelvedaar, she was beyond the struggle which Phalomir had witnessed within her mind, beyond the balance of dark and light, for she herself was that balance. And as Phalomir tried to understand what Aelvedaar had explained, he came to realize that this time his love could be truly lost.

He closed his eyes, his head dropping involuntarily. A tear formed in his eye and trickled slowly down his cheek.

Weak.

Always weak. Always knowing what is best for everyone, always putting yourself on the line for whatever little cause has come up today. Oh certainly, Mr. Big Magick can fry a few demons and make big whoopee light shows, but he is never strong enough to hold onto the one thing he cherished above everything else. That first step off the pedestal is a big one, but once it’s taken then that big marble post is pretty barren, isn’t it?

Pathetic. Just pathetic.

Think of reality, old boy. What you had with her is in the past – well, the future – but it’s past now. Your future ends in this lifetime, before you are even born – put that in your pipe and smoke it. So think about other things for a change, like maybe this little problem of the Vong, Or maybe the Empire hanging out around the Sith worlds. Yeah, the Sith. Remember them? Maybe they could use a little help, eh? Maybe you could be Dark Lord of a clan that has more than one member. Take up a hobby, whatever! It doesn’t matter! Just stop being WEAK!

Phalomir lifted his head, the tear drying in a salty line on his face.

“You say the Master helped her discover the identity of Shayla’s attacker,” he said. “I presume she would begin with his disposal.”

Phalomir shuddered inside at this thought. To him, it was only the night before when he had held Jharmeen closely through the night, had shared with her the most tender and intimate of moments, and had thought that the bond they made would last forever.

But now, once again, fate had conspired against them. But he would not fall into despair, not again. He was Lord of the Armorers, and was ready to accept fate’s will.

But he still felt the connection, still wanted her… still felt hope…

He shook his head slightly, clearing it.

“And her last comments to you trouble me,” he said. “Why would the mention of me as Dark Lord set her off into a tirade? This concerns me as well, mixed with her sudden – dark balance, if you will. I do know that I do not envy this Rykounagin, and I fear what a reunion with her daughter may bring about. In fact…”

Phalomir turned, the tattoo upon his face glowing. He walked a quick stride to the crystal octahedron, and waved his hand over it.

“Show me ShaRhylla,” he said.

The image formed before him, the halfling woman with flaming red hair throwing her head back and apparently howling in rage. Though no sound came from the crystal, Phalomir could easily sense the furious power of her shout.

“We are too late,” he said. “She mourns the loss of Rykounagin and shouts in rage, alone. Graysith has perhaps banished her or left her imprisoned.”

"Let us not be so hasty in our assumptions," I state as I move to stand before the magickal device. From beside me comes the quiet whisper of robes as Aeylmaar proceeds there as well.

I come to a halt before the Great Octahedron, and raise before it A Command.

"Show me the lad Rykounagin."

Again the mysterious stuff within the crystalline device whirls and moils as if having a life of its own, as in coalescing and adhering to itself it lets clumps and dark shadows begin to emerge. Soon those vague outlines sharpen, focus, and at length reveal an image that indeed I half expected to see:

It is the lad, apparently ensconced within the confines of a Sith fighter, hands at the eerie controls, a look of sheer determination lighting in his eerie eyes.

"You see..."

I wave a hand at the device as I send Phalomir a studied look.

"We cannot afford to assume anything."

I turn back to the device, request the position of the lad. His image flattens, distorts, subducted into yet more swirling currents of otherness which then reforms into something both strange yet eerily familiar:

It is the Octahedron's attempt to display a position within the strangeness that is hyperspace, overlaid with stellar coordinates. I lean forward, study those stars, then rear back with an indrawn breath.

"It appears that not only is the boy alive, but he is heading toward our system," I state the obvious, aware that perhaps not all present are adept in interpreting the images the Octahedron can show. After a moment's pause, I continue with an even more obvious conclusion.

"This can certainly bode no good."

“Can you bring him here, out of hyperspace?” he asked. “As you did with Jharmeen’s ship…” Phalomir choked slightly on her name, then resumed. “When you brought our ship out of hyperspace prematurely near a sun, then brought it to nova… wait, no, forgive me. That was before we knew you were imprisoned by a doppelganger.”

Phalomir raised his eyebrow.

“That is a story indeed, whoever imprisoned you was powerful enough to explode a star. In an inhabited system, by the way, killing thousands of colonists. That was horrible.”

Phalomir shook his head, then looked to the other Sith standing with him.

"Yes," I finally state, then hold up a hand to amend the affirmation.

"That is to say, perhaps to some degree. While I feel it a bit dangerous to attempt an actual physical link with a vessel ensconced in hyperspace, I believe with the aid of the Octahedron I can at least reach out to the boy and send him a mental call. This device does a bit more than merely show images; it assisted my Chosen One in bringing me forward to this time."

I stop abruptly having spoken those words, her very name enough to bring stabbing pain into my heart. Aeylmaar, yet standing beside me, clearly senses my brief distress for I suddenly feel the warmth of a compassionate hand upon my shoulder.

All but shrugging it off, I raise my head. Now is not the time to indulge in self-pity. Firming my shoulders, I approach the image still floating in the otherness that is at the Octahedron's most secret heart, lean toward it, reaching out to place an open hand against the cold, crystalline surface. This is followed by my forehead, then lips, which murmur a quiet incantation of awakening. The words conduct through the surface, impact the roiling greeny-goldness, taking an almost physical shape which then seems to arrow straight to the image of the Sith fighter.

It is pierced as if by a warrior's spear.

"Rykounagin. It is the desire of the Lords Aelvedaar and Phalomir that you come to Khar Delba. Your assistance is necessary.

"Come"

I pull away from the Octahedron, turn to the silently waiting Phalomir.

“It appears your message has found its way to our lad’s ears,” he said.

The image showed a map of the system, with a small blip on a course for Khar Delba.

“I only hope that the insight we may gain from him is worth the risk we are taking. I have seen him at work, he is an assassin. He is also in great pain within his mind, I feel, and who is to know what recent events have confused his path.”

Phalomir returned his gaze to Aelvedaar.

"Yes," I agree with my fellow Dark Lord. "It appears the boy has come out of hyperspace; now I might be able to open a portal to his ship."

I turn a moment to Phalomir, study him closely. Then I reach out toward the image with my hand, bringing my claws together in a particular manner and twisting my wrist, just so. The image roils, wavers, and there appears an arrow of greeny-gold, which seems to come from nowhere to pierce it.

At the same time a familiar humming schtppt announces the presence of a portal's mouth behind us. My eyes slit as I tilt my head, now indicating the open portal with a wave of clawed hand.

(Rykounagin) looked to the portal and called through it. "Why don't you tag along, eh Aelvedaar?"

I sigh wearily as the words come echoing about my Sanctum Sanctorum. Clearly, this lad appears either to be a dangerous one to ally ourselves with...

...or a frightened, and very confused youngster, one who has found his world turned topsy-turvy and in striking out against the Fates which dealt him the blow, one I know who goes by the name of Lord Roan, strikes out at anyone and anything that crosses his path.

I close my eyes a moment, seeking inner peace. Then, the movement quick and tuk'ata-like, I twist my hand just so...

The Portal closes, this time making no sound as it vanishes.

My lips thin to a determined line and I move to the Octahedron, there willing it show me the position of Lord Phalomir, that should anything untoward happen I might assist him in his endeavor to evade or otherwise reconcile himself from it.

I shake my head in dismay, watching as the erstwhile Dark Lord slyly moves his fingers, obviously jarring the hatch of the sith fighter open a mere millimeter or so as judged by Lord Phalomir's reaction. I make a furtive movement as I watch his slide toward the hatch, reach a hand out to the image in the Octahedron, prepared to quickly yank my fellow lord from the jaws of death which snap so closely on his heels.

But there I pause, for he yet remains aboard the ship. The fact tht the lad is highly agitated is obvious by the wild look in his feral eyes, by the veins which jump out upon his throat, by the framing of his mouth, which is opened in a near rictus as he shouts. Or so I assume; either that or his little ploy is backfiring, and he too is gasping for air.

I see Lord Phalomir struggle, his mouth now opening as well. Whether he gasps for air as apparently does the lad or attepmts to speak with him I cannot say, for the Octahedron can only reveal the image. To obtain any accompanying sound, I must travel to Phrinnchatka and seek out the Revealer in the Great Library of the Sith.

I do not think this a necessary tactic at this time, but keep my other arm raised in preparation of creating another portal, should events transpire where such a drastic measure is needed. In the meantime, I can only reach out to Lord Phalomir, contacting him in the only manner available to me.

"It is useless, my fellow Lord. Can you not see? He responds with threats, with hatred, with the passion of an animal trapped and seeing no escape. You made no move toward him which threatened, yet he responds in the manner in which he does.

"I am not fearful of you being sucked into the void, although should that happen I am here to bring you back home. Remember your early schooling, my friend: as more air departs the ship, less is available to carry you out. Your hold is yet strong; now the threat is one of simple oxygen deprivation.

"Shall I retrieve you now, before the poor lad manages to remove every last bit of air from the ship?"

I purse my lips into a grim line as I continue to watch as events play themselves out. Lord Phalomir's heart was in the correct place, but as any Sith would realize by what history has to reveal to us, there is simply no room in one's heart for the assassin. They are but a simple if deadly tool, developed by those without the honor to openly confront their enemies; I can see why Lord Phalomir believed this one would be pressed to assist us, bound as he was by ancient accord to the Sith.

The moment the boy made the furtive movement which opened the hatch was that when I myself knew differently, knew that this one was more than a mere tool as he somehow manages to act on his own device, without direction. And when one who is meant to be directed is instead placed in the position where he must tackle the chilling Void of autonomy, there can be only one outcome.

Insanity...

...which is very apparent this one suffers from.

Therefore it is with mute approval that I nod my head, watching as Lord Phalomir deals with the rogue assassin as easily as one quashes an annoying gleeberfly. Moments later, after a brief visit to the navigation board of the sith fighter:

((OOC: Coming from Phalomir's post in Saving of a Soul in this forum:

Phalomir waved his hand before him and looked up, signaling Aelvedaar.

Thank you.))

Still watching the image in the Octahedron, I re-open the Portal, experiencing the eerie sense of being in two places at the same time as I see it form in the cabin of the fighter in complete synchrony to it's awakening behind me. Moments later, the sound of rustling robes announces the presence of my fellow Dark Lord; I make a motion with one hand and the Octahedron obliges by panning out to a wider view.

I stand in silence as I observe the trajectory of the fighter, watch as it aims directly at an outermost moonlet, draw in a deep breath as it tries nothing whatsoever to avoid the obstruction but comes to a rocky landing on its surface instead. Zooming in once more, I sigh with relief to see the hull is secure.

But the engines are not so fortunate. One has sheared off entirely and lies in a twisted and crumpled mass accompanied by a thousand bits and pieces which lie scattered over several square miles of moonlet. Nodding that the boy is in no immediate danger of death, I close the Portal I have opened between the ship and my position in my Inner Sanctum. A quick sweep of my magicks assures no automated tricks of any kind had somehow been emplaced here during the time an opening existed between the two.

Now I turn to Lord Phalomir, and nod with approval.

"Excellent navigation, my friend."

The Octahedron once more captures my attention, now revealing the image of the inside of the fighter's cabin and focusing on the unconscious assassin. I hold my hand out to it, turn cock my head towards Phalomir.

"This one must be watched with the greatest of wariness and scrutiny, for after observing his actions, albeit from afar, I truly believe him to be mad."

Briefly then I outline the reasoning leading to my belief in the matter. Then raising my face away from Lord Phalomir for a moment, I gesture toward my Chosen Son.

"Aeylmaar, come."

In a moment he is beside me, face tilted respectfully down. I smile a little, reach out and with the placement of my hands about his face, clawed fingertips touching certain neural ganglial nexi, I create an unbreakable mental Link between us with the assistance of the All. I let my hand drop then, bidding Aeylmaar lift his face to follow it as it gestures toward the image within the Octahedron.

"I charge you with the task of watching this one, every moment, and to report to me anything unusual happening as far as this one is concerned."

My Chosen Son acquiesces with a half-bow, and then takes up a stance in front of the magickal device. I give his shoulder a brief squeeze of approval and love, and then turn back to Phalomir once again.

"And now, my fellow Lord; your thoughts on where and how we should next proceed?"

“We know no more than we did before visiting the boy,” he said from across the room as he turned to make his way back. “Time is drawing short, the Vong still approach and the Sith are not united to lead the galaxy.”

He stopped in front of Aelvedaar.

"Perhaps you are correct in this, Lord Phalomir. Perhaps the direct approach is the best one. You must forgive my momentary hesitation, for I am no politician but a simple sorcerer of the clan.

"But this I do know--"

A somewhat rueful smile curls my lips and I motion for Phalomir to follow. Not waiting for him to do so, I turn and head toward a darkened nook in the extreme recesses of my Inner Sanctum, where I come to a halt.

Something tall and reflective stands hulking there, shining with magicks and nutrients to keep the life within it so, but in stasis.

I wave a clawed hand toward the Incubator.

"Remember this, for it may be the final card we have to play, my friend."

I back away so Phalomir can approach and take a closer look at the device, in which there floats, asleep, not growing but strangely alive, a fetus.

...or perhaps simply for someone...

“Who--”, he began. The rest of his words did not come. He swallowed hard and tried once more.

"No, my friend," I state, now letting the hand fall to my side where it enters into the sleeve of it's fellow and disappears within the silken folde. Now I merely nod, indicating with my horns the incubator and that which floats suspended within it.

"This is the child of Shayla Stargazer Petrolu, the Adept and so dear a companion to my Chosen Daughter. Or so Aelymaar has informed me; how it has come to be here is something we are both not quite understanding. I believe it has something to do with an injury Shayla obtained while pregnant, and was brought here to seek assistance. Her child was placed here to protect its life, albeit in a state of suspension as it has been here for some length of time and has not aged since it has come to us."

I pause a moment, then turn and stare into the milky waters of the incubator.

"It may prove useful to us at some time in the future, having this child here and safe only within the confines of this device."

Phalomir turned away from the incubator and took a step back towards the center of the room. He then paused, looking at the floor.

“I will never stop loving her,” he said slowly. “Jharmeen is what she is, and I know I play a fool’s game with my hopes. But it is not a weakness, and I shall never give that part of myself away.”

He turned his head back to Aelvedaar.

“As I know you shall never either.”

He turned away once more, looking upwards at nothing in particular. “I can learn much from you, my lord, of putting oneself behind the needs of his people.”

He turned to face Aelvedaar fully, his movement slow and graceful.

“I will be of little use in speaking with the Dark Lady,” he said. “Although I saved the life of her adept, she holds nothing but contempt for me. Agreeably so, after what I put both her and you though, my son. I believe my talents could be put to better use in speaking with our lad. Perhaps he would be more apt to listen than make war, at least for a short time.”

The Master stepped closer to Phalomir.

“I do not know if she loves you, or is capable of it any more. The darkness touched her deeply, and she is changed. When she was here, she spoke of how my plans of a united Sith would never by realized. But they were, in a future now past, through you. All impossible things are only so until they are done. If you truly have the feelings you radiate for her, never give that up.”

The Master then narrowed his eyes, and let his voice deepen.

Phalomir looked to Aelvedaar.

I turn my hand palm up, indicate the rift.

"If you will, Lord Phalomir," I state simply before turning back to Aelomir.

"I believe I can create a portal to the moon where Lord Phalomir has stranded the assassin," I state flatly, and then do so, opening one up to the airless surface of the moonlet, then pausing before I join with Phalomir that I might re-close this portal before the assassin should discover it and attempt to escape here to Khar Delba.

Smiling, he recalled the interior of the fighter and opened his own portal into it.

Closing the Portal then, I turn to him, my hands concealed within the voluminous sleeves of my robes.

"What plans have you from here, Lord Phalomir?" I ask him, simply and succinctly.

"Lord Aelvedaar? Lord Phalomir? We have run into trouble and need your assistance..."

It didn't take him long to recognize that voice as belonging to JhinDarra, who had gone with others to rescue those companions lost on Dagobah. Frowning but without letting his eyes stray from the image in the Great Revealing Device, he sidled over to the Portal and called back through.

"My Father... that is, Lords Aelvedaar and Phalomir have returned to K'eel Doba to discuss matters with the Dark Lady; I'm afraid they have closed the Portal they used to travel there so I cannot go to them in person to relay your request."

Sensing Darra's rising chagrin, he smiled ever so gently.

"I have contact with my Father; I will send him warning of your distress. Do not fear; I am certain at least one if not both of the Lords will come to your aid..."

He trailed a bit, his smile growing a bit unsteady now, for he of all people knew how stringently the Sith Lords tended to adhere to a course of action if they deemed that action to be their top priority. But that did not prevent him from turning away from the shimmering Portal, so as to contact the Dark Lords in as clear and direct a manner as possible, without distraction or impediment.

((OOC: The following message is sent to Destiny Uncertain in the "Jedi/Sith" forums, thank you.)):

"Father, those on Dagobah have apparently fallen into some sort of distress. While I do not know of the particulars, it was requested that I contact you and pass this message along..."

"How good it is to see you all--" he began when his expectations were dashed by the sight of his adoptive Father stepping forth from the Portal, quite alone.

Save for the ominously silent body of Panthar that he carried in his strong arms.

Aeylmaar hurried from his post to the couch where Lord Aelvedaar was now placing the still form. Laying a hand atop Panthar's chest, he heaved a sigh of relief that he could sense him yet breathing. His amber eyes shot up to meet the molten ones of Lord Aelvedaar.

"I shall call for the Healers, Father; fear not, he shall be well kept."

He received a silent nod in reply, and immediately moved to summon servants. Doing so, did not see but heard the other-worldly schllpptt of a closing Portal, as the Dark Lord returned from whence he had come.

He stared at the walls ahead of him, the blue light throbbing slowly, almost melodically. The lights were dim, and came at odd intervals. Each one of the lights was a tiny animal, or perhaps colony of tiny animals, and each one seemed to have its own rhythm and timing. As he stared, the blue lights began to beat slightly faster here and there, some of them beginning to pick up on the beat of others around them. Soon the wall seemed alive with blue dots of light, like a wall sized neon sign flashing to patrons. “Come inside the Blue Cavern!”

That thought struck Panthar as completely sensible. As he mused over that, the lights changed, and now the dots were forming a pattern. A circle. It began large at first, with the dots around the edges stopping their pulsing. The circle grew smaller with each pulse, until at length only a small number of dots pulsed in a tight circle directly across from where he sat.

He watched the circle pulse steadily, becoming very aware of Galen next to him. Her body had grown warmer, and her grip tighter. He looked down, and was caught by total surprise to see her face glowing reddish orange like she was burning from the inside out. Her face turned to meet his, her eyes intense.

“Life for life,” she whispered.

His attention was drawn back to the wall by a sudden flash of light. The blue circle had widened, and the wall within it was crumbling away. From the center of the hole came flying a bat, dragging in its feet a long piece of cloth.

He looked back to Galen, but instead of her he now found himself holding a huge white spider, it’s furry body pulsing in tune with the blue circle.

He screamed, waking himself and sending the nearby healer into a start.

"Shush, shush; be thou still," he said soothingly in the manner of his kind. "For thou hast been grievously wounded, and hath lost much blood."

Panthar relaxed, the healing energies flowing back through him. His thoughts turned to warm walks on the beach, of soft fuzzy animals dancing in circles around him, of lying on a luxurious blanket made of rich flaming red fur… red… flaming red…

His eyes darted open again. He tried to flail but his body was too relaxed.

He shook his horned and hoary head.

"Thee hath been hallucinating, a by-product of blood loss; return now to thy dreams, and may they be ones more pleasant..."

On he went, striving to send Panthar into slumber, that his body might find the rest it needed to heal. As he worked, his skilled eyes could not but help catch sight of the myriad scars and old wounds Panthar's body bore. Shaking his head in bemusement, he made an instant decision.

"It will not do for thee to heal, only to come near to death again, as apparently it has been thy wont," he observed in a low and wry voice. "Therefore I shall place this ward of protection upon thee, that in the future thee shall not be oppressed so."

A wave of one hand, a sprinkling of an unknown herb, and a light tracing of a new sigil upon Panthar's left cheek, and the deed was done.

For when he at last would awaken it would not be to merely find himself fully healed, but with one of the strongest wards against further injury the magicks of the Sith could provide.

The Healer smiled at his prowess, and continued with his ministrations.

Panthar relaxed, his eyes beyond the capacity to open. As the depth of slumber washed over him, he let his head fall to one side and a rush of air came sighing from his lungs in total relaxation.

Perhaps there was something to that which he keeps insisting so, he thought as he sent an even stronger sleeping spell upon him. As Panthar's beleaguered body finally gave itself in to the pressing (and pressed upon) need for slumber, the Healer rose. Swiftly and silently he moved from the couch and over to the shadows, where Aeylmaar yet stood watching over happenings in the Octahedron.

"Pardons, m'Lord," the Healer bowed. "But the injured one is most concerned about an individual named 'Shawn'. He insists that if a wall is not broken, this 'Shawn' will die.

"Although I do not know anything further about which wall it is that he speaks of."

Bowing again, he backed away, and soon returned to Panthar's side. Smiling, he settled to his knees in a meditative position, and soon was lulled into a trance-like state by the gentle sounds of that worthy's snores.

...and then once more, this time in genuine consternation. Turning quickly, he hastened to the place where Lord Aelvedaar had opened the Portal to Dagobah, only to come to a skidding halt.

It was no longer there. The Dark Lord had closed it.

Aeylmaar raised a clawed hand, as if trying to reach out physically to them, his mouth open slightly as if trying to speak to them. But then from the midst of his growing puzzlement there arose a possible solution.

There had been a time when he had assisted Galen and Shayla and Erik and Panthar in escaping from the dungeons of this very temple. At that time he had implemented a link with Galen, so as to contact them at a later time and in a far safer place than the circumstances had then allowed.

Smiling, he closed his eyes, allowing his hand to drift down to his side as he concentrated with all his might on opening up that old, yet not dissolved, Link.

Galen, Galen, hear me. There is danger; you must break down the wall or Shawn will die...

Over and over he sent that message, hoping but having no way of knowing if it would work. But on the off chance that it had, he followed up with images of what the Master had just done against Lord Phalomir, before quietly closing the connection and returning to his vigil.

((OOC: Go to Into the Undiscovered Deeps in the "CSWU" forums to see the effects of Aeylmaar's mental call, thank you.))

The young Sorcerer Heir Apparent nearly jumped out of his skin, as scant moments after he had sent that warning into Galen's mind there came a response...

From his father.

"My son, this is your Father speaking to you now. Go to the Octahedron, my boy; ask it to show the wall which must be broken, the wall behind which Shawn undoubtedly waits for us.

"Find his whereabouts, my son, that through this link you may send the information into the mind of the pilot of this ship."

Gathering his momentarily startled wits into a modicum of coolness, he nodded, turning back to the Octahedron which was now showing him the Master and Rykounagin, once more deep into an unknown conversation. He wavered, chewing upon his lip... then cleared his throat.

"Show me the whereabouts of the one named Shawn, the one who is known to the Dark Lord Aelvedaar," he commanded, then stood in silence as the device obeyed. The mysterious greeny-goldness swimming in its depths whirled and collided, melding and molding and roiling until the image of the dark pair was lost entirely, replaced instead by that of a towering scarp face. As he watched, a bat flew forth from a tiny crack, about 1800 feet up the sheer face.

Not knowing what else to do, he simply stared at the picture, knowing instinctively that his adoptive Father was receiving the same image as well.

((OOC: Incoming again from Into the Undiscovered Deeps in the "CSWU" forums, thank you.))

"The nightbat, my Son; follow the nightbat..!"

No sooner had the words formed in his head than he let them slip forth from his lips. Soon the Octahedron was showing them an image of the nightbat in flight, with the Dagoban landscape rolling away beneath it...

Panthar awoke again, the healing powers of the Sith magick not enough to keep him asleep through the bedlam that rocked the halls. He heard voices shouting in confusion and the sounds of breaking glass.

Still in great pain, but much better off than he had been before coming to this chamber, he arose. His mattress had shifted from the frame, and he wondered how he possibly could have managed to not fall to the floor and crack his skull open.

But he did not dwell on this, for something big had just happened, and he needed to find out what was going on and what he could do. And how he could get back to help with the search for Erik.

“Hey!” he called out. “Aelvedaar? Galen? Anybody?! Where are you?”

He paused a moment, trying to remember what had happened after he went through the portal. Then he lifted his head and shouted “Where am I?!”

With a start he realized he was upon the floor, propped halfway against the Crystal Octahedron.

With an even greater start, he realized the roiling greeny-goldness within it was dark, as if it too had been momentarily stunned.

He raised a hand to his forehead, winced.

"Wha- what has happened?" he murmured, to no one in particular... but it was enough. The Octahedron, yet beneath his head, immediately obliged, gradually brightening within until at length it was again filled with greeny-golden splendor.

A splendor which immediately segued into utter darkness, a darkness in turn bit by bit becoming sparkled with stars.

He blinked again and raised himself up on his elbows, staring in shock and wonder as with cool, crystalline impassivity the Octahedron showed him the sudden production of the enormous chronotic shield, it's rapid expansion, and gradual dissipation into nothing. It then returned to its normal state, the subdued green light it shed casting a sickly shadow across his face.

"No-oo..." he began, when a distant shout caught his attention. Hurriedly, yet somewhat dazed, he rose to his feet and staggered into the antechamber, blinking again.

He frowned with annoyance to discover that this sudden predeliction to fluttering his eyelids was due to a trickle of blood now creeping into his right eye, then put aside that brief and selfish thought. For there was an apparently panicking Panthar, half rising from his sick-couch, an unconscious Healer sprawled on the floor nearby.

Aeylmaar hastened to him, collapsed on his knees next to the couch.

"Something terrible has happened; you are with me," he stammered, somewhat confused and utterly naive to the fact that he'd received a concussion when the universe seemed to explode.

He lifted his head and looked around, seeing the small healing ward in which he had spent the past – well, he wasn’t sure how long he’d been here. But he remembered a strange dream he had, one which involved the caves and Shawn and thousands of those damn white spiders.

Holy crap! he thought. Shawn! And Erik!

Panthar swung his feet around to touch the floor, sitting up as he did so. He steadied himself and rose to his feet, holding his chest tightly with his arm. He waited a few seconds, and when satisfied that he was not going to fall apart he stepped forward.

He made his way to the door of the room, and pushed it open. He stepped into the hallway, looking both ways for signs of life. There seemed to be nobody stirring here…

Wait, where was here? He remembered being in the cave, in deep serious pain. And he remembered Galen. Ah, Galen, pressed up against him. Sure, it hurt, but she was warm. And she felt really nice.

All right, Panthar, don’t go down that line of thought. Nothing but trouble thinking like that!

But he did need to remember…

Aelvedaar! He came! And opened a portal out of the cave! And then… and then…

Then the dream. All right, he was somewhere in the Sith worlds, this much was clear. And there weren’t gabs of burly red dudes walking the halls with spears, so it probably wasn’t the Temple of the Warriors. And unless Phal had managed to build a new temple for his clan already, then this was probably the Temple of Sorcerers…

Cool! He’d never been here before!

He turned into the hallway and began walking. Sooner or later he would find Aelvedaar or his son, hmm…. Alymire? Aelvimeyer? Hmmm… Well, eventually he would find someone who could lead him to someone!

A peace broken by the startled yelp of a robed Sith that barely noticed Panthar in time to step aside. Panthar, still groggy, paused and stared.

“Oh,” he said. “Excuse me. I was just, um, you know, from the sickbay, and… well, I need to see someone like… um…”

Panthar waited for the word to come to him, then it finally did.

A moment later the door opened again, this time wide. Another Sith, this one in bright gold robes, smiled at Panthar and motioned his arm in a broad sweep, indicating Panthar should enter. The other robed Sith, eyes wide, hesitated and then bowed to the golden robed Sith, then turned and departed quickly.

Panthar shrugged and walked through the doorway. The golden robed Sith closed the heavy door with a loud bang and then scurried to lead Panthar down a hallway. They soon came to yet another door, which opened easily as the Sith pushed against it.

Behind the door lay a room, walls lined with books, tan furs covering the floors, and a large desk with many objects on it. Behind the desk sat Aeylmaar.

What could have caused that shield? he wondered to himself as he hastened along. Perhaps Father might know...

The thought of his adoptive father brought on its heels a reminder of what he was supposed to be attending to; injury or not, he had been remiss in his duties. He winced again, this time in guilt, and hastened his step back to Lord Aelvedaar's great Sanctum Sanctorum.

A distant commotion caught his ears as he neared the ornate double doors leading into his father's chambers, one that grew louder with every step he took. His frown deepened when, arriving at the doors at last, he realized the racket was coming from within.

He sighed, pushed into the echoing room... and stood in something of momentary surprise at the sight of a golden-robed Healer being reduced to actually fighting with a patient. The Sith grunted and half-turned his head in recognition of Aeylmaar's entrance; fangs exposed, he gritted his teeth.

"This one seems to be fighting the wards I have placed upon him," he said as the immense Sith he was trying to heal flailed out wildly with his hands. Ducking, the Healer reached out yet again in the attempt to grasp a horn, that he might bring him to submission, if only for his own sake. But the Sith patient, one Panthar Dantares, would have nothing of it. He kept flailing and yelling out, making wild comments about Erik and Galen and a nightbat and a cave but mostly about Shawn.

Aeylmaar grimaced in pain, then hurried to his side.

"Let me assist you," he said as he reached out and grasped Panthar by both wrists. A tiny push of his blossoming All-talents, and Panthar's hands seemed suddenly to increase in density until even as powerful as was his body, he could no longer hold them up. They crashed to the cushions upon which he yet lay, sinking deeply into them and effectively pinning his arms there.

"Now," Aeylmaar said, nodding to the Healer. The medico needed no further instructions, but quickly grasped one of Panthar's horns and applied pressure, both gently and effectively.

Panthar stiffened on the couch, his eyes wide open.

Aeylmaar waved the Healer away and relaxed in a kneeling position beside the befuddled Panthar.

"Hush, it is I, Aeylmaar," he whispered, nearly crooning, hoping to gentle the man's mind as between them he and the Healer had managed to gentle his body.

"You are safe; you have been quite ill, but all that is now behind you. You are healing, there is no need to fight, you have nothing to be afraid of, my friend.

"Hush."

"White spiders?" he repeated, wincing for how the comment made him seem the dullard. He raised up, settled back on his heels. Stared Panthar straight in the eye.

"I do not know the current condition of the others, for they have not yet returned from Dagobah," he went on.

“When we put Gray’s body in storage on Dagobah,” he began, “Phal made a shield around her to protect her, but then this massive bunch of white spiders came rolling in and completely covered the area where she was. Then later, when we rescued her spirit from the Master and Thoran stuck her inside of Shayla—“

Panthar paused a moment, thinking of Shayla. He felt a sense of urgency, wanting to jump up and demand a ship take him to… to… to somewhere! With effort he beat it down and continued.

“We were all on Tattooine, it’s where Aelvedaar thought we would be safe while he went back to Dagobah to get Gray’s body. Well, he was gone a long time, then Shayla took off on her own after blasting everyone with her Jedi superpowers. Then Aelvy came—I mean, Aelvedaar came back through a portal but he was all covered with these white spiders, like they were sucking the life out of him. A bunch got on Galen, and I think they got on me too, but I don’t really remember. Anyway, we got them off, and then we got out of there. Those things are probably still somewhere on Tattooine for I know. But that’s what I know about the spiders.”

Panthar closed his eyes.

“Well, that, and this vision. It’s all like life for life. Don’t ask me why, or how this is in my head, but I felt weird being down in that cave, all broken and all. All I could think about as people were trying to get to us was how it would be OK if I died, because I stayed alive long enough to help them get to us, and now Galen would be saved. Then I began to have weird dreams, flashes, I think I lost a lot of blood there. But it was all about white spiders, and balance, and all that, and that I lived. But Shawn was still there.”

Panthar’s eyes flew open again, staring at Aeylmaar.

"No," he underscored the motion. "That is not so, my friend. For if the spiders had wanted you, well--" He trailed, gave Panthar a meaningful look before continuing.

"It is not your life they wish, Panthar," he said, his voice growing soft with concern.

"Whose life it is, this I do not know. But if your visions hold true, they indeed shall be seeking one. Life begets life in death."

He nodded, blinked slowly, then rose to his feet.

Panthar propped himself up on the bed with his elbows, wincing.

"You are not rested enough, not yet healed enough to be anything but potential detriment to the party there, I am sorry to say. Wrapped up as they are in their own trials, they do not need to have to worry about your welfare as well.

"I am sorry; what I now do, I do for your benefit."

With that the young sorcerer waved a hand and uttered a short spell, dropping Panthar back against the cushions like a butchered dewback. The chamber echoed with the sound of his snores; Aeylmaar couldn't help but allow himself the privilege of a small grin.

"Rest a few hours, and heal completely, my friend," he said quietly, laying a brief hand on Panthar's shoulder before he moved off to take his former position in front of the Crystal Octahedron. A few crisply uttered words and the greeny-goldness roiling within churned and twined, then coalesced to show an image of two piles of vines.

Several figures stood about, gesturing as if arguing about something.

Aeylmaar cocked his head, repeated his command to return to the assassin Rykounagin. The image faded, was replaced by greeny-golden convolutions, then segued back into the same image once again.

Now he raised a brow.

"How very interesting," he said to no one in particular, then fell quiet, debating just what he should do with what he had discovered.

Panthar stirred in his sleep, beads of sweat trickling down his face.

The ship… you know which one.

The voice was strong within his mind, and the shadowed figure which loomed just out his vision scared him senseless. But he was compelled to listen to the voice, he had no choice.

I have not left you, my love. That shall be our secret, yours and mine. I shall grant you my strength, and I shall guide you with my wisdom. They believe I left you, that I was cast out upon the cold ground of Khar Delba, but even they should have known better. There is always a little left, and a little is all it takes. Now wake!

Panthar’s eyes snapped open and he shot up in his bed, sitting straight and panting. His bedclothes were soaked with sweat, and his heart was racing. The healer sitting in the corner of the room was startled, as if he himself was woken by Panthar’s sudden outburst. Panthar looked at the healer, then began to clamber out of the bed. Bandages unwound, causing fresh blood to soak his nightshirt.

“I need to get to K’eel Doba,” he said. “I need to do it now. There are lives in danger, thousands of lives! And so help me if you try to make me go back to sleep, I’ll… I’ll…”

A sudden rush of adrenaline came over Panthar, and he looked menacingly at the bed. His face set in a sneer, he let loose with his unbroken hand and sent a fist flying into the headboard. The rich wood splintered into pieces, and Panthar turned back to the groggy healer.

How had he been roused from the Sleep of Healing? He himself had not instigated such, nor had the nearby Healer, as judged by the look of groggy amazement he wore.

Very gently, so as not to aggravate further the already highly aggravated Sith, he let his hand loosen, flow gracefully back to his side.

"Welcome," he said softly, nodding once to Panthar.

"You appear... whole?"

The light query inherent in that comment was not stressed, for fear that the Sith might become even more agitated. Instead, he let it carry as an observation, to assuage the emotional state Panthar seemed embroiled in, that perhaps he might begin to calm down.

"Your words are most grievous, my friend," he continued, now letting a small frown crease his brow. Off to one side the rising form of the Healer caught his eye; nodding once, he waved him away, letting him know by those slight motions that he did not want the Healer to place himself in undue danger by attempting to knock Panthar unconscious once again. Only when the Healer had nodded back, turned, and quietly departed altogether from the sanctum sanctorum did Aeylmaar turn back to Panthar.

He smiled easily, indicated the Crystal Octahedron that he had been studying.

"Let us see if your words are the result of a vision, or of the fever from which you have suffered," he said, motioning that Panthar should come up beside him.

"I will let you ask the device one question, and hopefully by what it shows you will your fears be put to rest."

“Thank you,” he said, calming as he walked to the device, to stand next to Aeylmaar.

“You must think I am crazy,” he said to the heir. “But you have to believe me, there is something going on. Dark and sinister, behind the scenes, I just don’t know. I don’t think these visions have been all from fever, you know. I mean, yeah, white spiders and darkness and all, sure, they could be my mind sorting things out – but it’s more than that.”

Many questions rushed through Panthar’s mind, but the one he wanted to ask the most was fresh in his thoughts.

Am I still possessed by that awful stuff that came out of the Darker Realms? That tar stuff that I got rid of at the Temple of Armorers… came the thought. But the words would not make their way to his mouth. No, there were other, more pressing things to know. Yes, of course, he couldn’t still be possessed or he would be flailing about like he did then, trying to kill everyone.

No, there was something else eating away in his subconscious. Something important, he knew it. He had seen it before, filed it away for processing later, but the events that unfolded since then pushed it back.

“I’m sure that I can’t ask it silly things like ‘What is that is bothering me?’ I mean, I’m sure I have to be specific, right? Well, it’s difficult to think about that, because I feel that something is dreadfully wrong on K’eel Doba, and it’s something I should know about. Like there is a link somewhere within me and something is calling out over it. Calling for help, or something.”

He batted his forehead with the palm of his hand over and over.

“Think, think!” he said. “Wait… there was a ship… a ship we all came back on once, the weird one from Khar Delba. There was something about it. Something strange. It had been left untouched with all the brouhaha about Jharmeen’s daughter killing her and stuff, and I was supposed to do something… with Phal?”

A proverbial light bulb clicked on over Panthar’s head.

Ever my strong and strongly growing ally, the All reaches out and manipulates some of That Which Is, tearing open a Portal through which I now step, returning after what suddenly seems to be years to the haven of my sanctum sanctorum. The fact that once, too long ago, this chamber ceased to provide me with complete haven crosses my mind; I close my eyes briefly, letting the thought come, study it as I step forth, for by such things, by facing one's dilemmas, can one at last seek a means by which they might be overcome, a means perhaps once overlooked.

Nothing catches my mental eye at the moment, and I open my eyes to find my Son, startled, standing before the Crystal Octahedron with an apparently recovered Panthar Dantares. A quick glance into the roiling greeny-goldness reveals to me what it has revealed to them; I straighten and finish stepping forth, coming regally now before the two.

"My son," I acknowledge his loyalty, dip my head to him, a quick yet smooth motion which he then mimics. When he raises his face again to mine I clearly see his concern and curiosity; the concern over whatever dire event he has been monitoring is somewhat assuaged now by a modicum of curiosity as to why I have returned alone.

Now is not the time to bandy words; I merely send him a single glance now, the same glance I sent into his amber eyes lo many years ago, just as the Dark Jedi breached my Sanctum Sanctorum, just as they rushed us, terrible weapons of light raised high.

A look which spoke of great danger, perhaps danger lethal to us, but danger which in the long run might prove to be not entirely insurmountable.

I then turn a fiery gaze to the other, rake his form but once with my eyes, and dip my head respectfully to him.

"My son." The words I speak are intended for Aeylmaar even though my eyes remain affixed to the Panthar.

"I must speak with thee; perhaps this one might be shown the hospitality of our Temple whilst you and I engage in small but private conversation."

I straighten a touch, indicating by the motion that the next words are not intended for the ears of my Heir Apparent.

"It is good to see you have recovered from your miseries, Panthar Dantares. However, now is not the time to inquire further of your well-being; you must pardon my seeming rudeness, but there is something of concern of which I need speak to my son."

...and with whom she was. Taking a shuddery breath, at last being able to at least wrap enough strength about herself to peer outward through unclouded eyes, she managed to steady herself on her feet and look about herself more clearly.

But with such clarity also comes reality. Her crystal clear greeny-blue eyes fell upon the form of Graysith.

"W--what have I done?" she finally said in a whisper. Then her eyes widened, further terror filling them. "The Darkness...

...is working with the chrome-eyed one..."

But the pain in the once again violet eyes gives me pause.

"My Daughter?" I deign to ask, sensing she is once more the One I Have Chosen, sensing as well the same in the golden haired woman at her side. I step toward them, growing more troubled by the minute, for now that the pair seem to realize they are safely within my Sanctum sanctorum the pain emanating from them evolves rapidly into sheer agony. Well do I recall such feelings I once harbored; my hands go out to the two and I hurry toward them.

"Come, you are safe, I know what has happened; that which has come and gone has come and gone, now we need face that which is yet to be.

"Have you learned anything during your entrapment by the foulness?"

She drew in a deep, shuddery breath, and replied, telling him everything she had learned, everything she knew of, including how the blockade in Khar Delban space had been destroyed, and where Lt. General Sorben Tarnus was.

"I must release him; it does not bode well for our people that I have done what I have done, but perhaps this can be kept from him until he can be made to realize exactly what forces there are at play at the moment."

She then went on, explaining how the Dark, through its machinations, had managed to procure that which the Master had promised it years and years ago, but had never managed to deliver.

"Phalomir, it has taken over Phalomir," she stated, calming now enough that she could say the words without breaking down. "But my Sire, it is not the Phalomir of the Three Houses; it is a clone, or doppleganger; the Dark is very clever indeed, in the ways it had managed to manipulate others in our own dimension; this I know for Lord Roan, even the Lord Roan I thought myself at one time wed to, was nothing more than a copy. The true Dark Lord of the Warriors hangs in madness and misery in the Black Tower, over which the Darkness holds sway. With--"

Now she turned to Shayla, surprise in her eyes, for this was something absolutely new to her.

"That Which Is? Did you see the two conspiring? This is something of which I am not aware."

“Whoa!” he cried out, stepping forward. “You can’t mean ol’ Googly Eyes has something to do with all this!? No way, not when all he cares about is balance and keeping people out of his ‘place of places’ and all! Never mind that’s basically where you dumped Phal and everyone. I assume they’re still there? Like Erik is still back on Dagobah somewhere after being left there by his wife? I got my ass kicked there trying to find him, and now I don’t even know if Galen is safe! Uh, and the others, I mean.”

He coughed a little before continuing.

“But if you are really sure the Darkness is gone from you, really, totally, then I think we need to go get the others all together. I don’t know about Googly Eyes being involved, but I do know that I was possessed by this darkness before any of you, and I remember that being a hellish time. And I hear things—like echoes of it still in my head somehow. Maybe we can use that?”

"Indeed, much ill has been done to many, and many have been placed in positions undeserving of them," I speak briefly into the silence following this excitable Sith's words, holding up one clawed hand that he please calm himself.

"It will be but a matter of seconds to set right much of the wrong that has been done, but not until we fully understand exactly who and what we are dealing with.

"And why."

I silence, as do the others, and wait to hear what Shayla has to say.

She had left her husband to die on Degobah in dire straights, and had left others on K'eel Doba...

She forced herself to keep from these thoughts for the moment in order to respond to the questions at hand. "That Which Is is not what I saw," she clarified at length, her look still distant. "It was...

...was him. The Vong, the one who once held captive both Jharmeen and myself."

She paused then, remembering more of her time on K'eel Doba. She related how the Darkness had used her to greatly damage the Temple there, how she had found a room with a globe that knew her by the name Stargazer, how she had been identified as part of the "Nexus" and that words had been spoken of its infiltration.

And of what sounded very much to her like a rendezvous of sorts between this particular Vong and the Darkness.

"All the time we thought that Dark Lord Roan had taken Graysith to the Yuuzhan Vong ship, it must have been the Darkness."

"We shall begin by setting right that which we can, and by gathering together our own forces in readiness against the growing Dark, which--"

I allow a smile to flick upon my lips as I raise a hand to them all.

"--may not be quite the omnipotent power it believes itself to be. For it did by embracing my Chosen One embrace the All, which it now has given up, possibly in the belief that what it thinks to be the future Phalomir holds it still. Likewise, while it has seemed to take over my dear Brother Roan, replacing him with a copy, it apparently does not recognize that the Phalomir it holds is one as well.

"Remember this, and take heart. It has tipped its dark hand to us, and if this was done purposely then it yet has a weakness we can exploit: arrogance. But nothing will be gained without all of us working together; tell me now where the others are that we might go forth and bring them all here, to then begin planning out our own strategy."

She pause, pursing her lips. "Phalomir, along with some others including an Eagle Enterprises Captain, a man by the name of Captain Yaoksi Joao, a Ryn, a human child, the Master, and Verpine, are somewhere near the Temple on Kori'san."

She frowned deeply, her eyes growing vague. "I hope that the destruction to the Temple did not harm them in any way."

"But-- he did not give Phalomir to the Darkness," she commented, then turning to cast a sympathetic glance at Shayla.

“Then maybe we oughta put her in charge!” he said.

"Of greater importance," I intone, my voice deep and imperative, "is the fact that Aeylomir has yet, in his eye, to achieve his goal. It is of some importance, then, that we stop him in his tracks, before he manages somehow with the true Phalomir."

I turn my hand sideways, and make a small bit of intrigue in the air. There is an immediate popping noise, and a dark funnel begins to roil, becoming larger and larger until at last it reveals itself as the Portal through the All which I intended it to be.

With a start, Shayla looked up, her eyes widening as she recalled something that seemed almost to be buried within her, as if hidden.

"Wait," she spoke up then, her greeny-blue eyes intense. "The Master is not on Kori'san. He was...

"Then there he shall stay," I state as I turn away from her. Waiting no longer, for every moment spent by our hapless friends upon the planet supposedly removed from our reality is a moment risking further wrath from That Which Is, I step through the Portal I have created...

((OOC: Aelvedaar departs into The Path to Endgame in the "Jedi/Sith" forums, thank you.))

“Well,” he said, “I’m not staying here!”

He walked towards the portal, shaking his head.

“I just hope Phal hasn’t been eaten by a tuk’ata,” he said, more or less towards Jharmeen, then stepped through.

((OOC: Panthar jumps into The Path to Endgame in the "Jedi/Sith" forums, thank you.))

"I sent a tuk'ata after Phalomir," she then said Jharmeen's way, a new wave of shame at her actions washing over her. "I hope we are going to get there before it succeeds, and I can try to call off the attack. It was a wild tuk'ata, after all."

She paused for a moment then, recalling the damage that a wild tuk'ata could do to a person...

...and then making herself focus once more n the task at hand as she stepped through the portal.

"As if I started the aggression." I commented, flicking my wrist, letting the Lotus fall, the magical blade disappearing before it had hit the ground. "Well then, let's go."

Phalomir turned as he walked into the room beyond the portal. He stopped when he saw the face of the woman he loved more than anything else in his life, his heart leaping out to her but his mind still wary of the darkness within her, for that was what he last knew.

Yet something was different, very different. He gazed into her eyes, and could see clearly what that difference was. They were her eyes….

Aaron stepped through the Portal and came to an abrupt halt behind Phalomir, who was speaking to, of all people, Graysith.

His hand slipped unthinkingly to his blaste, and he didn't move a milimeter further.

Then she spied the hovering Aaron, obviously waiting to enter. Off to one side there lurked the very assassin who had attacked her Adept.

Shayla stepped through the Portal behind Aaron Barnes, moving past him a bit and completely avoiding eye contact with Rykounagin and nearing Jharmeen, becoming increasingly aware of the varying ranges of emotions floating about the room.

“I know,” he said to Panthar. “I can feel it.”

He stepped forward and glanced to both Aaron and Panthar. “Watch this one while the others enter through the portal,” he said, indicating Rykounagin. “We have much to do, much to discuss, and we cannot afford distractions.”

He turned his attention to the flame-haired woman standing by the strange device in the center of the room. He walked to her and paused, holding out his hands.

"I'd really hate to have another unprovoked attack upon myself and other persons in the area. I'm not fond of being caccooned. Makes me feel claustrophobic, and just a bit hot around the ears." I winked at Shayla, not pressing further on the reference to "split" hairs.

"But what's with the mistrust? All this talk of 'watching me'. I'd almost think you couldn't trust your son-in-law. Or second-son-in-law. Whatever my marriage makes me."

I did not bother to mention our "divorce", still considering ShaRhylla to be mine, and only mine.

Far more was at stake here...

"Far more is at stake here than such small, petty details," she half-spoke, half-growled. Then she pinned Rykounagin with a cold look. "And you above all should be speaking of unprovoked attacks."

Her eyes remained remarkably inscrutable as she then fell silent, stepping back a bit.

“Your marriage was dissolved,” he announced. “ShaRhylla herself announced this to both Shayla and me, in the same instance admitting it was you who arranged the staged death of the Dark Lady and indeed proclaimed you would kill her for real when given the chance.”

His body turned to face the assassin, but his steps carried him backwards towards Jharmeen until he stood beside her.

“This is a chance you shall never have, Rykounagin. She would turn you inside out before you could blink, and in that same moment you tried to harm her I would be holding your still beating heart in my hands. You hold no station here, lad, choose your words carefully.”

Phalomir glanced at Aelvedaar quickly.

“I suggest he placed under arrest,” he said. Phalomir then turned back to Jharmeen and stepped closer to her.

She trembled slightly, feeling his proximity... but trembled more when his suggestion to place Rykounagin under arrest came into her ears.

Arrest... he would be placed in the dungeons of Phrinnchatka...

She gasped, one slender hand flying to her lips.

The dungeons! There was one there who deserved not the fate she had dealt him.

As his great fleet deserved not its own.

Tears welled up in her eyes, and she ducked her head, allowing her long flaming hair to flow down and cover her face, that none present would see her grief.

For what she had done, she could never, ever make amends. She refused to let that oily Darkness that had resided for so long within her take all the blame...

...for had she not, indeed, willingly allowed it placement there?

As the knowledge of her destruction of General Tarnus' blockade segued at last into visceral reality, her understanding of the Greater Good shivered, slipped millimeters from her understanding.

And deep within her, that shining entity of All wavered in response.

"What have I done in the past? I have been locked away, tortured, and beaten by you all for following the beckoning of lesser beings."

I sighed. "I am no innocent man, that is true enough. I am no longer a lord, and though my marriage is disolved, I still deny it. I may not deserve what I take claim to, but I will fight for it all the same." I paused, knowing that there was a distinct chance that this would backfire.

"So, I will attempt to put this away." I conjured the Lotus, and flicked it up into the air, holding it between fingers at the very tip, and extending it forward to no one inparticular.

Not Phalomir, but towards the place between Graysith and Shayla. "Honor is a strong point in Sith society, particularly those who are actually sith. Though this means nothing from one who is born of dishonor, I will give you a choice." I kept the blade level, handle extended forward.

"You have a choice. As you are not actual sith, this choice will hold little weight upon you. I offer you the chance to exact your 'pound of flesh', or you can chose to let this lie and let the past settle. I am not here to fight you, I am here to earn that which I claim."

The sheer intensity of the anger coming from Shayla was almost frightening.

Let the past lie...

...and let the one who is perfect cast the first stone.

With effort, Shayla began to calm and realize that she no longer was at the center of her own little world, as she had been when the Darkness had taken her. Came to the realization that, while she was angry, more important things needed to be dealt with. And there were others out there with far greater concerns than her own veangance.

Her greeny blue eyes met Rykounagin's, clear and calm. "Small petty details plague not only you, I'm afraid," she began with a sigh. "I cannot honestly forgive you for what you have done...

...but there is more at stake here."

She paused then, looking to Graysith. "There are still others to retrieve, others left in their current predicament at my own...

...devices."

Her greeny-blue eyes clouded in shame, and then she drew some strength from the fact that she indeed was not alone. Not anymore. Feeling Graysith's own pain through their connection, Shayla's anger with Rykounagin faded into the background, and her concern grew steadily. And with a start Shayla realized that, for the first time in quite a while, she could actually...

"Alright then. Then let's leave our differences behind until this is settled." I looked to Phalomir.

The word, more of a command really, slipped from her lips, pierced the air, daggered into what was beginning to be a more comfortable atmosphere and electrified it back to its former intensity. She let the word dangle, drawing the attention of everyone but most especially the cult assassin, toward whom after all the command had been directed.

Slowly she raised her head, pinned Rykounagin's eyes with her own.

"I have not yet, as you say, exacted my pound of flesh from this moment."

Pausing to shoot Shayla a somewhat incredulous look, she then approached Rykounagin and came to a halt in front of him. Mere inches from him, she continued to look him straight in the eye, daring him to so much as move one muscle. Obligingly, he remained where he was, his hands yet emptied of any of his weapons, and hopefully as empty of his magicks as well.

"One can put in the past words spoken out of anger, for they are unthinking, being created from a solitary instance. But--"

Here she shot another quick sidelong glance toward Shayla.

"But one cannot as easily dismiss offenses of a more serious nature, such as attempted murder, or bringing actual physical harm to another."

Although her voice was steady, her own anger was slowly beginning to rise, bit by bit filling her eyes with fire, causing her to breathe a bit heavily as she continued.

"What is or was or ever possibly will be between you and my daughter is the affair of you and her; I cannot make up ShaRhylla's mind for her, nor would you ever wish me to do that. But you tried to kill me, you vowed you would, and you almost killed her!"

Her hand shot out, pointing to Shayla.

"This is not a simple bygone, to let settle into the dust of the past, Rykounagin! This is a serious offense, one which not only goes against the mores of our society but against its laws as well. How can you expect me to simply forgive and forget? How can such things go unpunished?

"And how do you expect me to trust what you say now, considering all this? You are, after all, in straits not of your own choosing, are you not? Would you not say anything to protect yourself?"

I pulled my deeper wishes into check before replying, letting none of my murderous wishes show upon my visage.

"I just offered you a chance to set this down for now, but if you wish to bring up old past actions, let us look-"

"You have had your minions beat me, you have locked me in that endless hellhole. Phalomir has attempted to have me crushed by my own vessel, and each of my old masters, save one, has attempted to end me in one way or another. Also, take into account that I saved your daughter's life, you have very little to hold against me personally."

I looked at Shayla. "As for my... attack, upon your minion, you cannot deny that it was provoked. And, it seems that your talents have returned her to a healthy and whole state, with little lingering effect."

I sighed. "I am a terrible, mass murdering, psychopath who hates you. Point and case. I'm also a terrible, mass murdering psychopath who is willing to put his hate aside, and who is willing to attempt to attone for his actions, guided by greater evils or not."

"I am weary of consistantly being pressed up against every faction, and, free-will pending, all I want is one thing." I frowned. "So, are you going to exact the pound of flesh in physical form? Or will you take into account my offer as settling some of my..." I rolled the final word around in my mouth. "-debt?"

I now did something I thought I would likely never do, and raised my hand towards her, though unable to extend the full length as Graysith was in the way. "Now, you can shake my hand and we can put this away for now, or this can become an avoidably ugly situation."

"But hey... you don't have to take my word for it. After all, I am the only coniving, corrupted, and evil person at fault for any wrongs here." I laid weight on those specific words with a mild pleasure.

“Enough of this, Rykounagin, your snide defense bears little meaning but to damn yourself,” he said coldly. “You have committed crimes beyond which I had knowledge, and regardless of how you feel you have been treated what you have done is treason and worse. By all rights you should be bound and sent to the executioner, and you should not consider yourself free of this matter in any way.”

Phalomir gave a sidelong glance to Jharmeen, knowing she was fully capable of fighting her own battles but wishing nothing more than to grab this assassin by the throat and rip his head away. It took a great restraint to keep his hands at his side, and the trembling fingers pressed hard into his side gave this away.

“You have been given chance upon chance to show yourself worthy of trust, and every time you have strayed from those who cared enough to give you that chance. If you have any notion at all to delay your execution, you will stay silent and still, unmoving from this spot. Your arrogance and pride will do nothing but harm, put them away and do not move. Discussions must take place of greater import than your past.”

Phalomir backed away a step, eyes still searing down at Rykounagin.

"Yes, discussions of import must take place," she agreed, completely recovered to all outward appearances but still achingly aware of the enormity of her own crimes against others, be it through her own intentions or not.

"But not at the expense of justice, Lord Phalomir. To dismiss this case -- even for the moment! -- with an admonition that Rykounagin simply remain still, to put off his accountability even as he stands here before us, only lessens our leadership in the eyes of others. Yes, there are matters of most dire importance to discuss, namely the approach of those who once before tried to command this Galaxy and with whom they might now be in league, as well as the subject of how the Sith people are not only to be ruled, but by whom.

"Not to mention that for the most part the People yet believe themselves to be living in what we understand to be four thousand years in the past; the shock that they will face when being presented with the proof that they have been transplanted into their future will undoubtedly be an enormous one."

She paused a moment, letting her eyes drop to study the tips of her toes. Then she stiffened, raised her face, straightened.

"There is one who must be allowed into our confidence: Lt. General Sorben Tarnus. I- I have him unfairly imprisoned within the dungeons of Phrinnchatka; Lord Phalomir, before I can partake of any discussions of so important a meaning as we know lies ahead of us, I must free my heart by freeing this man, allow him knowledge of that which we are made privy to...

"And then release myself to him for the horrendous act I have undertaken against his fleet. It is not up to us to decide my innocence in this matter, just as it is not up to us to decide Rykounagin's."

She fell silent with that, letting her violet eyes flick back to the form of the assassin, just as another Portal whickered into existence and spit Lord Aelvedaar into the echoing expanse of his Sanctum Sanctorum.

Phalomir shifted slightly, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“And though I am not aware of what you did to his fleet, I have an idea. Do not place this upon yourself, what you did was under the direct influence of the darkness, and if he is a reasonable man then this will aid in his decision to work with us.”

Release herself to Tarnus? Would he not certainly exact a heavy dose of revenge?

She swallowed a bit then, her thoughts straying to her own destruction of the Tempole of the Armorers. And of her actions in the sick chambers here.

She closed her eyes in pain. She remained thus for a few moments before opening them once more and regarding Rykounagin, her Force senses easily reading his dark thoughts regarding them all, no matter how he tried to put them aside.

What was it he thought he would accomplish by remaining here now?

She stepped up to him, her greeny-blue eyes slitting. "And what was it I did to provoke you to do what you did? What physical harm was it I did to you?"

She paused a moment. "You ask for forgiveness for now." You say one thing yet mean another."

"I- I destroyed his fleet, in its entirety," she whispered in in a low voice, her eyes vague for they were no longer reading the lines of his face but seeing the absolute destruction of myriad ships and the thousands upon thousands of souls aboard them.

"While it is true I was under the influence of another, it is still not ours to determine my fate. That right belongs to the aggrieved, just as it should be our people --"

She paused momentarily, wondering if she could ever truly consider herself of the Sith peoples again after what she had done, even though they did at the moment accept her as the Dark Lady of the Warriors. For surely her destruction of Tarnus' fleet would be taken as an open act of aggression, bringing those worlds left of the Sith into direct conflict with the very Galaxy they had only just been "born" into.

She couldn't bear it.

"Just as the right of what to do with Rykounagin belongs to the Sith, for it was by his assassin's tactics and machinations that the transport system was destroyed, and that many people in the city above were hurt or some perhaps killed. And we know what happened to my dear Adept."

Now her eyes flicked to Shayla. The young woman looked a touch discomfited, as if secretly heavy of heart about something. But if what Graysith was reading in the depths of her eyes was factual or not, she didn't say or do anything other than continue to look threateningly at the assassin.

Graysith let a small sigh whisper from her, then straightened further, now aware of the newly arrived presence of Lord Aelvedaar. The Dark Lord of the Sorcerers said nothing, but obviously had arrived in time to overhear much of what was being discussed, for now he proceeded directly to her other side where he placed a comforting, clawed hand upon her small shoulder.

"We must still release the Lt. General, my Lords, and allow him the right to do with me as he feels the situation truly directs."

Phalomir squeezed Jharmeen’s shoulder gently, his expression softening. He flicked his eyes to Aelvedaar, then back to Jharmeen, and smiled softly.

“But now is the time to stop the aggression and make peace with the Empire. Our galaxy must be united, for not only are we fighting the invading Vong but it seems we fight the darkness of another realm as well. Surely Tarnus will see the real issues. In any instance, you will not be alone in this.”

He stepped back then, looking at all present.

I cannot help but stretch out with the talents my magicks afford me, keenly feeling the turmoil of emotions in play between one comrade and the next. From my brother Dark Lord, an overwhelming sense of outrage emanates, one cleverly masked by him but clearly felt by those with the ability nevertheless. From my Chosen One there flows unending grief; I squeeze her shoulder once again, understanding the truth of what she speaks even as I accept the wisdom in that of Lord Phalomir's words. From the slim form of the Cult assassin there comes a certain smugness, a deep and fiery anger, and a particular pain and emptiness I deem important enough to certainly remember and investigate at some future date. And from the human and Verpine--

"I agree, Lord Phalomir," I state, now letting my arm drop as I then move to the side of my chamber, there to take up an ornate bell-pull which I give a single tug. Servants immediately materialize from the shadows, servants standing always at the ready, servants who are loyal unto death and whose ears and tongues none of us present need ever worry. I turn briefly to them, directing them to make quarters ready, and to bring food and drink here that all present might refresh themselves. For indeed they have gone through the gates of Hell and back; simple physical fortification is direly necessary before we continue any further.

I then move to the Crystal Octahedron, and laying a clawed hand against its octahedral surface present it with a command.

The splendid greeny-goldness within it roils and tumbles, whirls in patterns reminiscent of convection yet somehow not. And then from those roiling billows there forms an image: that of an auburn-haired man stretched upon the ground in the shadow of what looks to be a Sith fighter. At his one side is a furry white form; off a bit to his other is a figure clad in Mandalorian armor.

I frown, recalling what I know of Sorben Tarnus.

"Here is your Captain Joao," I state simply, now tapping the crystalline face with one claw. That claw moves to the armored one, where it stops a moment, then begins to tap significantly.

"Is this man Sorben Tarnus?" I ask aloud; nevermind the obvious question of how he became partnered with Joao and the youngster, as odd as that might appear. For this is what is, the Crystal does not lie.

I peer at the image a moment, then lean a bit closer and peer again. A wave of my hand, and the image zooms out, revealing a nondescript planet against a vivid field of stars.

"Who knows this system?" I then ask. "For this is unfamiliar to me; in order to retrieve Captain Joao we must travel there by ship. Does anyone here recognize the starfield we are looking upon?"

Panthar stared at the stars in the crystal, tracing a line with his eyes from one to another. It was an off pattern, a constellation of strange shape that vaguely reminded him of a skyline he once saw on a planet long ago. But he knew he that had seen that pattern before elsewhere, but where?

She paused, frowning. "This doesn't look like any pattern I've ever seen before." She shook her head. "IThis planet may be in the far reaches of our galaxy...

...or not in it at all."

"It is a very large Galaxy," I state, nodding to acknowledge her efforts in assisting us.

"Simply because you have not been to this star system does not mean that it is not here. We too used to operate under that misconception, until our ships got better and better and carried us farther and farther into the unknown corners about us. Each time we found wonders at which to marvel anew; each time we placed more and more star configurations in our maps..."

I suddenly trail, an idea niggling across the back of my mind.

"If Mr. Dantares cannot recall the location of his notebook, perhaps there is a means of finding this system after all. If we as a people have traveled there, it will be in our navigation logs. These are aboard every Sith ship, every one; just because I do not recognize these stars does not necessarily mean that there are not others of our people who do, simply for the fact that they have visited them at some point in the past."

I smile at Shayla for this small commonality we now find ourselves sharing, although it trembles a bit at the edges. There is yet something coming from her which I find disquieting, to say the least.

“Yes,” he said, that was a strange time indeed, for both of us. I think Thoran may have had taken control of you, for I recall watching as we boarded a ship and took off from a dusty ground. There was equipment lying on the ground, that is all I remember of that. I went black as well, and the next thing I remember was waking up on Sullust.”

Phalomir glanced back at the others, and was comforted to see Aaron still attentively holding his blaster to Rykounagin. He then turned back to the others.

"Yes," I agree, now turning to Phalomir. "As Mr. Dantares has pointed out, since the Sith ship is on the planet then one could reasonably assume its location is now within the navigational logs. That is, if we are assured of the fact that its pilot was indeed Sith."

A pregnant silence follows this, for there are some of us who recognize the fact that indeed, some of our ships have been piloted by beings non-Sith.

"However," I press on. "This possibility is indeed a small one. For the ship we see on the mystery planet appears to be half-buried; obviously it has sat where it now is a very long time, long enough for this planet's life forces to alter it's geomorphology to put the ship in the quandary it now finds itself in. I can only assume it has been there since the Days Before, and since at that time, to my knowledge at least, we kept very good track of our own expanding fleet, it stands to reason the pilot was in fact Sith. Therefore the coordinates of this planet should be in our logs--

"Unless, of course, something happened then, to place the ship in jeopardy, and it in itself went offcourse and crashed upon what was to its pilot an unknown planet within an unknown system."

"These coordinates, in the ships' logs?" he queried, cocking his insectioid head to one side. His shining multi-faceted eyes contemplated the others as he then stated what was to him the rather obvious.

"How to exactly determine this, which coordinate is this place, can this anyone easily do? Numbers know I, and numbers there are many; if not unknown to ancestors was this place, know you its name, to then attach correct coordinate so find it we may?"

Panthar smiled slightly as he thought of Galen. He felt terrible for having to leave her there, but at the time he had little say in the matter.

“But if were able to get Galen back here, maybe her and Shayla can work with your people to figure this out? Where are the Sith ships or logs or whatever? And can we set people to task and then continue on with other things as well?”

He frowned, for even his simple magicks revealed her slumber as stemming from something other than a natural need for rest. Still bent, he turned his head to his Dark Lord, waited patiently until he had caught his volcanic eyes, raised his brows in a questioning yet meaningful manner.

When Lord Aelvedaar replied with the slightest of returning nods, he then returned to the small form, dipping his head respectfully as he did so. Then after scooping her into his arms he straightened, turned, and swiftly departed from Lord Aelvedaar's inner sanctum, taking the human girl to a Healing Chamber where by their magickal arts the spell she was placed under might be broken.

How could the servant have known the difficulty of this task, for the spell Thea was under was indeed not of the Universe of which she was a part...

((OOC: Until the return of Thea's author, this character is to remain asleep in a Healing Chamber in the Temple of Sorcerers on Khar Delba, thank you.))

She paused then, chewing her lip in thought. "What we need is to map out this starfield so that we can then connect it to any of the said navigation logs, first of all. The problem is, as K'khil has pointed out, that the starfield alone won't help us much as it will take a very long time to figure out its location in the vastness of space."

"I am afraid that while I am very good at what I do," I say with a return of my smile, albeit now a rueful one, "I do not deal much with matters of ships and navigation. If you understand such things, and if Galen Danner does as well, then it would indeed behoove us to find her that she might assist us in finding our lost Captain Joao."

I wave a hand back toward the Octahedron, which patiently yet displays the brilliant and mysterious starfield the intrepid Captain would undoubtedly be viewing from his alpine location.

"This task is a major one indeed; if Mr. Dantares' notebook might be of assistance, then this should be located as well. I also find merit in his suggestion that we allot tasks amongst ourselves, that we might lessen the time we have to take away from the other matters we most direly need attend to.

"Lord Phalomir, your thoughts on said assignments?"

“If they have worked on this before, then perhaps Shayla and Panthar should work with Galen. From what I understand, however, retrieving Galen may be an issue – Thoran had told me that they were trying to locate Shawn Petrolu. That, and…”

Phalomir looked solidly at Shayla.

“I understand the darkness influenced you to do some very bad things, as a receiver of some of those I want you to understand that I know it was not you who perpetuated these incidents. However, Thoran told me also that you had done something to Erik, and those on Dagobah may not understand what has happened to you. Assuming Erik is -- well, perhaps you should not be with those who contact Galen, but allow for someone such as Panthar to first explain.”

And once again his skills were seeming to be ignored. Perhaps those present were not aware of what he could do? Certainly he could do more than the hulking Sith Panthar; after all, navigation logs and star map assessment manuals inherently bore iron-clad logic within them. Indeed, they represented logic in physical form, for it was from logic they were essentially created. In that regard they were very much the same, in theory at least, as not only the engineering manuals and blueprints K'kihl lived and breathed by, but were by their very nature quite similar to the natural working of his mind.

And Panthar--?

The Verpine clacked his mandibles more loudly, unwilling to bring attention to himself in a manner any more aggressive than that. A quantitative whizkid he might be, but when it came to any sort of a confrontation, he was the biggest pansy of them all.

Yes. She had attacked all now on Degobah with the Force and had left Erik for dead in a natural trap in order to reanimate Jharmeen, whose spirit she hosted, herself.

And what else she had hosted in that moment that she would only later realize...

She shuddered slightly at the thought, her greeny-blue eyes growing vague and moist. "I cannot say that all which was done by me was done by the Darkness alone," she said softly. "When I left all on the desert world to go to Degobah, it was my heart and not the Darkness within that had a mission, a mission that, at the time, it seemed everyone else was dragging along to complete."

She paused then, looking to Jharmeen, knowing she if any understood. "As to my other wrong-doings..."

Trailing, her heart grew even heavier. "I too should be answering the justice of the Sith, for it was through my workings that the Temple of the Armorers was damaged. I do not know if the others will ever be able to trust me again...

"Look," Aaron finally spoke up to the surprise of eveyrone. "This guy," here he nodded to Rykounagin, "Seems to be the variety that shows his face just to cause problems. Now I don't know who did what to whom, but the last time I saw her," he continued, nodding then towards Shayla, "She tried to whammy Phal and then did something to little Thea, I'm sure of it."

His blaster pointed at her for a moment for emphasis. "If you need someone who is good with numbers and is a good pilot, Galen Danner is the best. And if you want someone else who is good with numbers and can actually be trusted...."

He paused a final time, nodding towards the apparently miffed Verpine. "K'khil's your...

Bug? Insect..?

“But I think our Verpine friend here might be useful in many ways, if you are willing. If we can locate my old campsite, find my notebook if it’s intact, and have you look at my equipment and maybe salvage some of the data, then it might be useful.”

Clutched within its grasp is a worn leather-bound notebook.

"Gentlemen and ladies--" I interject quietly, the words arrowing into their discussion and snipping it into sudden silence.

"I believe I have found the whereabouts of Mr. Dantares' notebook..."

((OOC: To discover what Lord Aelvedaar is referring to, please see the thread Dark Destiny in the "CSWU" forums, and follow through into Back Into the Fire in the "Empire/New Republic" forum, thank you.))

...and his jaw immediately dropped to his chest. "It's the Blue Fuzzball," he said, nearly growling. "This critter was on Sullust, talking left and right aboutImperial opression, artifacts, strange ships and missions to some coordinates he found in some book..."

Aaron trailed, realizing that what he was saying sounded like the book Dantares had been referring to. "Hell, last time I saw that Spitball, he was in some hidden base on Sullust. And his Boss was some evil witch, whose computer files we all have decrypted back on the Hornett."

He frowned. "She's planning to take over the galaxy, or something...

...with the ships that Furball said were drawn in what I'm assuming is Panthar's book."

He shook his head. "She's crazy, and the blue critter is too. She took Thea and drugged her right under our noses, and the medics on the Hornett said she had coordinates to some Dark Valley or something that could control Force users, according to our sources."

He eyed the blue guy with his book...

A bunch of hipocrites, one and all. It seems that being attatched to the big and sparkley darkness is something that gets you off the hook. Wait a minute...

Hadn't I killed the darkness with ShaRhylla in the tower? Had the master not been inhabited by it? Slave to its wonton ways? So how did it keep returning?

I opened my mind again, letting the faint veil of magic fall. "Do you mind if I sit while I'm excluded?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I mean, I'm sure my lifetime of training on how to track and capture or kill people will be worthless wherever you end up going, since my offer of help isn't accepted. After all, what's flesh and blood to the power of gods in the hands of mortals?"

I then glanced over at Aaron. "Speaking of which, you could probably save your arm some strain and put the gun away. I'm surrounded by people who can move worlds, so I don't think 'covering me' is a big issue."

"Well do I recall our encounters, lad," she began, her voice as neutral as she could make it. "And well do I recall your attitude and bearing at those times. You are no different now than you were then; however, I agree with Lord Phalomir.

"You apparently feel you have some grievances against me; pray tell, divulge them to us. Then, if you have anything of merit to add to the issues of which we speak, I give you leave to speak what you think. We shall weigh your words, perhaps with a bit more care than you apparently have weighed ours."

She paused a moment, giving Rykounagin time to assimilate what she had just stated. Then she pressed on.

"You do not have to respond now, if this brings you discomfort. But it would do you good to remember exactly what it is which causes us to mistrust you; do not play the buffoon, you know what you must do to come close to winning a spark of trust from us.

"Bear in mind as well, there is justice you must face, as must I. It is the particular path you choose to follow now that will decide what position you shall be in when facing that justice: alone, a despised and traitorous assassin, or a budding useful member of this party.

"The choice is yours."

She gave him a final, heavy look; then fell silent, waiting to see who would be assigned to what task, and to see where she herself might be put to best work in the matters at hand which faced them.

I narrowed my eyes. "When I did not know who I was, I was 'kindly' taken in by a supposedly benevolent spirit. That spirit asked me to take something that it said belonged to it, from someone that it told me was an evil dictator. Now, let's put this into context. A sword holding the spirit of Ragorian, told me to take the Axis from you, after telling me you were 'the bad guy'."

I sighed. "Now, in response to this theft, you cursed me into Elseness with no intent of ever retrieving me, not to mention sticking some man's spirit in my head before doing so, and in my attempt to escape it, I nearly died. That's my grievance against you."

"You had no qualms about "justice" then. No, it was judge, jury, and imprisoner in the space of a minute. No who, why, or how behind it."

I looked at Shayla. "As for your question from earlier, you provoked me in two ways. One, simply by being associated with one who I hated, and two, openly stalking me. If I threatened to follow you as you were to me, would you not seek a way of avoiding the stalker, especially when you know that the stalker can track you with the force? I knew that no juke or run would shake you, so I thought to keep you down for a while."

I chuckled quietly at the memory now, remembering my own surprise at the power of the trap that I had set. "Yes, you were harmed apparently. In a way, I was. I'm sure you didn't think short hair was a fashion statement. Regardless of split hairs, that was your "provokation". As for you Phalomir..."

I looked over at him, considering. "To be honest, I had no logical reason to attack you, save for fear that you were in allegiance with Graysith at the time, and that you were there to stop me. Which, you did quite easily, reason for it or not."

My expression turned sour. "As for 'opportunities to be useful' that is a downright lie. Comming to me in my craft and giving me an ultimatum isn't an opportunity. Regardless of the past-" I continued, cutting off any retort.

She paused then. "You seem keen on placing the blame squarely on those who have used you, those who have wronged you. What blame do you take on yourself?"

Letting the question fall into silence for the moment, her eyes turned a bit vague. Then they snapped alert once more. "As for the conversation in question, it should also be of note that the Master backed away from it because he was discovered. As for his desire for the Finger..."

She trailed, her look darkning. "Rykounagin is correct,he thinks he can save the Galaxy from the Vong with it...

“But he believes he did deliver me to the Darkness, correct? And we have heard from neither the Master nor the dark ‘me’ since.”

Phalomir paced a little, thoughts roiling.

“I suggest we break into teams,” said Phalomir.

“First, with the help of a translator, Shayla and K’khil can begin working on locating the coordinates of the planet where Yaoksi and Link are trapped. In the meantime, Panthar and Aarron can travel to Dagobah to deliver the message that Shayla and Jharmeen are free from the darkness, and we must regroup to battle it further. Also, provide assistance if needed in retrieving Shawn and Erik, and when you return take Galen to assist Shayla and K’khil.”

Phalomir glanced at Aelvedaar.

“I realize it causes stress upon you to open a portal, but time is short for us. Would you be willing to send Panthar and Aaron there? Jharmeen and I can return to Khar Delba to deal with Sorben Tarnus and arrange a peace with the Empire. You are more than welcome to join us, of course, and your wisdom would be much appreciated.”

Phalomir then stopped, his eyes resting upon Rykounagin.

But surprisingly, he had, much to her astonishment... and now Phalomir seemed willing to utterly ignore the crimes he had committed... to put them aside and welcome him as a member of their party, instead of remembering him as the assassin he was created to be, to overlook the trials he had caused them all, to put that aside with a seeming, "oh well, he's come over to our side now..."

Well.

It was simply unbearable.

She yanked away from the Dark Lords, stared at Rykounagin and then at Phalomir.

"We shall most certainly not go and "make peace" with the Lt. General; are you naive enough to believe he will actually accept that? This is not of your concern, but of mine, and mine alone.

"And as for this one--"

She pointed a trembling finger at Rykounagin, he who had done more than she herself could ever forgive.

Consider words he might have to offer, perhaps. But forgive... never. Never, ever would she trust this one. And to tell the truth she really didn't care if the entire universe knew this.

She could not continue for the moment, but stood rigid in a silent and growing anger, her pointing finger trembling all the more. Then--

"You would add ammunition to his fire, my Lord; I hardly find your choice in his task the wisest one you could make! Send this one into the Darker Realms, to that evil which is there, that evil which this one so nearly already welcomes into his own soul--?"

Now she truly could go no further, and fell into silence.

"Actually, you're right. But not for the reason you mentioned. How would Thoran and I get back? Once we found out, we'd be bait. Let's split this up then shall we?"

The Realms will not reliquish to him what it already holds. And as for this one so easily 'joining the team,' I too am surprised at the swiftness in which this was granted."

“But Jharmeen,” he said, “you offered him a choice, and he has taken it. I dare not send him to Dagobah, nor leave him in either Temple. It seems that he does not embrace the Master, nor the Finger of R’lous, nor would the darkness accept him. If you had no intention of taking his service, then it should not have been offered. He is correct, we will always be ‘glancing at his hands for the dagger’. So the question is to you and to Shayla, do you give him a chance or not?

“As for Sorben Tarnus, I do not speak of making peace with the general, I speak of making peace with the Empire. What you did goes far beyond a personal action, it was an interstellar incident. I know this was done under the influence of the Darkness, but you tell me that your own will was part of this action as well? It does not matter, the action was against the Empire, and done by the Sith. It is not between you and Sorben Tarnus, it is between the Sith and the Empire. Do you see the difference? I am aware of the inner turmoil you feel, my lady, but this is not yours to face alone.”

The single word erupts from lips with the explosive force of a volcano, causing all to stop in mid-word and turn to me, obvious surprise shining upon every visage. When I have the attention of all, even that of the Verpine who, up to this point, seemed interested only in things mathematical; when all are looking upon me I calm myself and continue.

"It appears to me the immediate issue is whether or not we can trust the one called Rykounagin, who according to one did thus and so, and according to another did something else; and who with simple and apparent honesty on his part seems by the Lord Phalomir to be welcomed into our small midst. But there are those who yet oppose this act; thus, and quite obviously, the matter of whether or not he is to be trusted is therefore at stake and apparently needs be addressed before we can continue on with other matters."

I pause, but now turn to the Crystal Octahedron, reaching out once again and placing a hand against its shining surface.

"Now we shall see whether that mistrust is indeed warranted, or springs from the personal grievance of the individual, for whatever reason; Octahedron, show us now the history of Rykounagin since he first came into play with the Dark Lady of the Warriors."

He saw Jharmeen grow tense as the lad abandoned ShaRhylla in the star base of the assassins, and Phalomir found himself growing cold and distant from the boy once again.

As he watched his own scene with Rykounagin aboard his crippled ship, when he came to speak but was attacked, he realized that he had given the assassin this chance before. In every case, Rykounagin’s own pride or love of chaos interfered with his chance to act like a decent being.

Through the rest of the scenes, Phalomir could only shake his head and wonder why, even in the case of the Master’s offer, Rykounagin could not deal with trust. Apparently he could not even trust himself.

Some dark voice within me was given voice: Lies... they simply wish to make no one trust you, they only-

Shut up. I thought, growling on the inside at that darker side. Just shut up.

I opened my eyes as the Octahedron slowed and came down to the point that we were at. "Well then." I looked up from the floor to Graysith and Phalomir.

...but her head filling with but one memory, that being the time when Rykounagin had first come to her, offering himself as adept in her service or to that of the Sith, the day they had shared blood to bond the oath for all eternity.

The day she had reached into his mind, and there found a now-startlingly familiar oily blackness...

Who had been the Master of the lad, who he had so easily glossed over that day when he had first bound himself to her? What was that blackness she had found? Was it part and parcel of him, or had he in turn somehow, wildly enough, been under the influence of the very evil that had taken her and Shayla from those whom they cared the most for?

She leaned instinctively close, her eyes wide.

However, even as I spoke, I felt a faint trace of my conciousness slip away from me, reaching out to Graysith, as a quiet, calm voice spoke to her thoughts.

Now under control, she straightened, stared the lad straight in the eye and asked, "Why must you always respond in so typically and sarcastic a manner? Can you never be honest with anyone, if even with yourself?"

But to that which reached out silently to her, she merely said, Why do you lurk within this young man, and speak to me in so secretive a manner? Are you something to be feared by us, an enemy within this lad, that you cannot present yourself openly?

<<I am a piece of Rykounagin's conciousness. I have spoken to others before. I am the piece of Rykounagin's sanity that has been fragmented but kept intact. I am that which keeps him from true Ferality. Though it may not seem like it, it would be much worse if I did not exist in his mind to keep him in check.>>

I furrowed my brows, feeling a migraine of sorts building within me, though I did not complain verbally.

<<I am a minority faction within this mind. The parts of him ruled by cruelty, survival, and hate hold more sway, though at this moment they are not in dominance. A thing that must be realized, is that though Rykounagin no longer shows it outwardly, he is split into different parts; different emotions hold control over him at different times, and it is those that dominate his actions. For now, I hold sway, and it is... pacificisms hope to keep it that way for the time being.>>

I closed my eyes, feeling pressure build on the back of my head now, as though something was roiling my brain back and forth and in circles.

<<This connection is being weakened now. The aggrivation you place upon him with the memories placed before him is giving strength to his more primal instincts. If you have any wish to save this man from his darker sides, pacificsm would suggest that you do not continue to anger him, lest he regresses.>>

How can we speak to him, then? she pressed on. For everything we say to him, no matter what it is, no matter what chance it is that he is given, is taken as something to scorn, and thus angers him further. Truly, if the rest of his mind is as fragile as you would present it to be, I am at a loss as how to deal with him.

She paused fractionally, debating whether to continue or not. Deciding then that honesty was the best policy, even with multiple personalities, she went on.

I truly do not wish to imprison this one for the safety of everyone else, for if there is anything inside of him -- "yourself," primarily -- that can be strengthened, to perhaps overcome his wild personalities, I would do whatever I could to achieve this. By your very existence you prove there is saving grace within this lad, albeit I do not know how to bring it permanently into dominance.

Anything you can continue to offer would be of help, but bear in mind we cannot promise a constant pacifism toward him. He has done much while under control of his wilder personalities, and we are currently involved in a situation that is anything but peace loving...

<<Give him something to trust to or hold onto, lie if you must; if only to preserve his present wish to assist you.>>

This time really seeing him.

"No, there is nothing on your face," she replied vaguely before straightening her posture and then dipping her head to him. To everyone else the gesture might have appeared a bit odd, but she was much satisfied with what she had come to terms with.

"I apologize if I spoke in haste," she suddenly said, the words ringing out both honest and clear.

"While you do have crimes to account for, as do I, while we cannot overlook them we can decide how to view you, and how to respond to you, when you are called up for what you did. Perhaps Lord Phalomir is correct, as were the words I thought I had spoken... just to fill the air."

Once again she nodded to him, half in apology, half as if trying to coax something into life inside of him. Then she continued.

"I believe it is time to truly give you a chance to prove your mettle; perhaps we have not started out on the best foot with one another. Once we locate Thoran, you must go with him into the Darker Realms, find the Master, and follow through with Lord Phalomir's wishes."

“Ah—“ he began. “I left Thoran in the Temple of Warriors, I am sure he is still there, he would have no recourse to leave yet, since he is probably in a holding cell.”

Still unsure as to why Jharmeen changed her mind, Phalomir recovered his composure.

“This will be a mission of stealth,” he said. “Both you and Thoran should be well suited for it, but you must already know the danger. We simply need to know if the Master is in the Darker Realms, and has with him the Finger of R’lous, It is too dangerous to confront him if he does have it, so do not try. For now, perhaps you should accompany us to K’eel Doba and leave from there with Thoran.”

How could they trust him, ever? How?

Keeping this to herself, however, she continued to stand quietly by, her look darkening ever so slightly.

“We should begin,” he said plainly, turning his head to Aelvedaar. “Can you send Panthar and Aaron to Dagobah? And should they return in the same manner, or arrange a ship back here? With the blockade gone, it would be easier to enter but we do not know what the Empire will do in the immediate future, until we talk to Sorben Tarnus.”

Phalomir then paused and cast a soft voice to Shayla.

Panthar shook his head slightly and looked up at Phalomir.

“And if my opinion counts for anything, I’ll throw in my two credits worth about Dagobah. If the people there are having a tough time, then they could probably use all the help they can get. I say send the cricket and Shayla with me and Aaron.”

He paused and cast a long look towards Shayla, catching her eye.

"My presence would jepordize the mission to bring the others back safely," she finally stated, shaking her head, her greeny-blue eyes dark and distant. "Their safety should play first and foremost into all of this; all else can wait until later, at a more appropriate time."

...that was, not until Panthar and Stargazer started up about whether she should go to Degobah or not.

"Stargazer is right," he then spoke up, drawing the attention of the others. "I mean, the EE bunch that is there, Terrin included, are all very catious, to say the least. If she pops up there for a rescue, regardless of who is with her to confirm or deny her story, they aren't necessarily going to believe it. It's not worth the extra time it may take...

...and how much extra time do we really have with all this?"

He paused, frowning a bit to himself. "In fact, with all that has occurred all the way around, maybe it would be better if we went to Degobah the usual way, via a ship. Because, if they are going to be suspicious of her," he explained, pointing to Shayla, "They are going to be suspicious of you too," he ended, pointing at Graysith.

And understandably so... came the errant thought.

"What you suggest has merit," I state simply, dipping my head courteously to him to let him know he might believe in what I say. "But as for ships..."

My thoughts flash to the time, seeming lifetimes in the past, when I fled a then cold and deserted Khar Delba, my Chosen One curled against me, the pain in her heart a thousandfold times greater than the one inflicted upon her by Atma's cruel branding of her. At that time we had used one of Darth Wicked's ships, a small one scarcely big enough for the pair of us to fit into that I had "borrowed" from several ferreted within his secreted hangar.

I could only suppose the remainder were still there.

"We on Khar Delba have never used much in the way of ships, going by shuttle to Ch'arlingua on K'eel Doba if we found a reason to travel among the stars. There are perhaps private ships here and there; I personally have none of my own.

"But Darth Wicked, who called this Temple his own before our Great Return, had a small collection of ships. I believe they are called TIE fighters, or perhaps interceptors.

"I do not know if one will accommodate all of whoever will be going to Dagobah, though. We were rather pinched for space when we departed from this world to travel to the next."

I pause, casting a soft look upon my Chosen One, who appears to look all the more stricken as obvious memories my words have triggered flash into her conscious thought.

The events which transpired during that time stampeded across her inner eye, making her tremble; then with great effort she forced them away, forced her features to smooth. Once she was under control again, she turned to Aaron.

"Indeed," she replied softly. "There is much I have done while--" She stumbled. "-- not myself for which I must try to make amends. I do not know if I ever can, but on a far lighter scale I do agree with you in that those on Dagobah more than likely will not trust me.

"Which is why I will return to K'eel Doba with Lord Phalomir, to begin the attempt in making amends by releasing Lt. General Tarnus from his unwarranted imprisonment and seeing if any kind of negotiations might be opened between us. I know he has been seeking his daughter, perhaps by introducing her to him a door might be opened."

She paused, sniffing in a little breath.

"I also agree: time is being wasted while we stand here delegating who does what. Since the ships left in Darth Wicked's wake appear to be too small to accommodate those who will go to Dagobah, I suggest we all return to K'eel Doba. There are more than Sith ships alone at Ch'arlingua; perhaps there will be something our friends will be able to fly. And as current Dark Lady, I can assure them safe and free passage from the planet, too."

She let forth a tiny smile, then raised a hand in preparation of opening up a Portal back to the Temple of the Warriors.

"For the sake of expediency, I suggest those who deign not to join us simply remain behind; I see no need to debate the merits of who travels to Phrinnchatka with Lord Phalomir and who does not, other than those who need to come along."

She paused again, this time to turn to Phalomir.

"I suggest stealth, my lord, in the release of Thoran. The warriors will most certainly not welcome Rykounagin back after all he has done; shall I open a portal to the dungeons that, unseen by the eyes of others, we might at least finalize what is necessary to send the pair along the path we have chosen for them to follow?

"We can then return here, and then back again into the Temple proper, from whence all our remaining plans might be implemented."

“Yes,” he said. “They should be released immediately and quietly. The General will hopefully be amenable to reason, and we must send Thoran immediately to aid Rykounagin. The rest of the plan feels sound. Also, there is a ship in Ch’arlingua that could possibly be used, but I first want it searched and emptied. I speak of the ship we used to place Korris’ian into the Elseness. But, yes, it all begins with a trip to the dungeon, my lady.”

"A most sensible plan," she agreed. Then without waiting any further she opened a portal through the All, directly into the maze of corridors and passageways which held the dank and noisome dungeons of the Great Temple of the Warriors. Nodding to herself, she stepped through...

"Have we not heard those words before, my Father?" he asked innocuously, directing the comment toward Dark Lord Aelvedaar. He was only shushed, and directed to doing what he was capable of to assist the others in obtaining their goal; after a moment's thought he turned back to the Great Crystal Octahedron and presented it with a command.

The greeny-goldness which roiled and writhed within its crystalline depths churned, then coalesced into the image of what appeared to be a wide and sterile-looking corridor. Terrin, Galen, Matt Stanza and a couple humans he did not recognize were moving along its unguessable length, passed every so often by other humans hastening in the opposite -- and sometimes the same, for some at times appeared to be in quite a hurry -- direction.

Aeylmaar blinked, and stepped back in surprise.

"My Father," he interrupted as he nodded toward the magickal device.

"I thought if I could pinpoint exactly the location of those left behind on Dagobah, it would assist us in their rescue. But look."

He said nothing further, merely pointed at the unexpected image the crystal device was patiently presenting to them.

I now approach the Octahedron, passing Aeylmaar who steps politely aside. Coming up to its cool, shining surface, I lay a clawed hand against it and demand it reveal the presence of all who had been with the party on Dagobah.

Immediately the mysterious material swimming in its depths seems to separate, dividing in twain. One image appears from the cloudy swirls, showing the image of the jedi Shawn Petrolu who appears to be within a stone chamber or cave of some sorts. The other image, the first one shown to us, remains the same.

I back away, wave a hand as if to reveal the answer to a Great Mystery.

"There is your answer; decipher it as you will. But it would appear that the Jedi yet remains inside the cave system where he has been trapped for so long, while the others have managed to somehow find rescue from the swamp world."

...or perhaps had been after her. This little thought gave her pause to her earlier conclusions regarding how she would assist in all of these matters.

"If he is still trapped..."

She trailed, her eyes clouding a bit. "Erik may be as well."

She quieted at that, wavering a bit on her feet, heartache at what she had done momentarily driving her thoughts...

...and realization of something coming to her.

It didn't matter what everyone else thought of what she had done. What mattered was what she could do now to fix it, regardless of their suspicion. And she had the blood connections to find her brother unlike any others had.

And the emotional ones to find her husband as well, whether he was going to forgive her for what she had done or not.

Her eyes clearing at that, she looked to Lord Aelvedaar. "I believe my abilities and Force connections with my Brother may be a key in finding him, and my husband if he is..."

She paused, swallowng. "Still trapped. I suggest you send Panthar and Aaron to the Hornett to make connections with those who are there and get a ship, and send me to Degobah to begin looking for my Brother. Perhaps then my presence will not be immediately troubling to those who will surely be hesitant, and I can begin assisting with the skills that I have."

I turn to her, watching her closely as she surveys this scene.

"I agree with your assessment," I continue, now stepping a bit to one side away from the Octahedron.

"If you have what you jedi call a 'force connection' with your brother, you will indeed be of the greatest use in actually pinpointing his location within the caves of Dagobah.

"Once pinpointed, it will be a simple thing for me to remove him from the dire straits he has labored within for so long a time."

As was her brother.

"Will you send Panthar and Captain Barnes via a Portal to the Hornett, or shall we wait until Jharmeen and Lord Phalomir return and go via a ship we find on K'eel Doba as planned? I would go ahead in the meantime, if that is what we stick to, via a TIE interceptor or otherwise. I fear time is precious if he has been in that cave for any length of time as it appears."

"Perhaps there will be no need to travel by such a slow method as a ship," I state as once again I turn to the Octahedron. This time I bid it show me the position of the Hornett; the resulting image justifies by suspicions.

For quite suddenly revealed is the planet Dagobah, around which is orbiting a large SSD. I wave a hand toward the device.

"Perhaps it would expedite matters if you are given a communications device from one of those here, and are then sent directly to the planet's surface. From there we might contact this great ship, do what is necessary to regain your brother, and return here to my Temple.

He paused then, checking his hip holster for a blaster and reminding himself that Terrin would jump into the fray immediately for any of the EE crew, and that Shawn had done so as well.

So it was time for him to do so as well.

I say no more but reach out a clawed hand, and with my talents quickly open a rip in the continuum we call spacetime. It roils and writhes off to the side of the Crystal Octahedron, but from its mysterious depths there comes the occasional cry of some animal, a waft of moisture, the scent of things green and living.

"Shall we go, then," I state, now taking a small step back while the hand which has opened the rip turns upward, beckoning the others to enter therein that we might go on about the task we have set upon ourselves.

Falling silent at that, Shayla stepped into through the portal, the others following behind her as she did so.

(((OCC: Follow Shayla, Aaron and Panthar into Out of the Unknown in the CSWU.)))

"The Sith logs, in sith ship they are," he reminded the young woman even as she disappeared through the portal the Dark Lord had opened.

"Not paying attention, was she?"

He was stopped before he could say anything further by a quick but meaningful look Lord Aelvedaar shot his way. But he held his ground, now nodding toward the Sith sorcerer as that magickal being followed the young woman through the portal.

"Wait here will I, until logs I have to decipher."

The unexpected flippancy coming from the Verpine provokes me to sending a stern glance his way.

"You shall have logs to decipher, once we have safely returned with the Jedi," I tell him, now turning to the Portal myself. "When we return we shall go to Ch'arlingua; there we will find Sith ships plenty from which logs might be obtained."

The Verpine backs away into the shadows as I step forth into the surreal one I have ripped into the essence of all that is. But-- there is something unfamiliar, something not quite of the ordinary; colors that should not exist swirl and writhe about me, colors that appear from nowhere and integrate themselves into the non-color of the Portal.

It is too late to turn back. Forced by the suddenly closing Portal I can only hasten quickly forward, feeling deep my my gut that something, somewhere, is terribly, terribly wrong.

((OOC: Please follow Lord Aelvedaar into If You Go Out in the Woods Today in the "CSWU" forums, thank you.))

The spacetime rip, rather than remaining black and writhing, suddenly seemed to freeze. This strange state of affairs was immediately followed by a burst of color which flared forth, casting a weird, chromatic shadow on the floor of Aelvedaar's sanctum sanctorum. The colors had scarcely faded, when the Portal simply disappeared.

The insectoid engineer cocked his head, and chattered his mandibles for a moment. Then he turned to Aeylmaar, who was off studying images in the Crystal Octahedron.

"Usual, is this?" he asked, his manner nonchalant due to the tough carapace which prevented him from any emotional displays. Giving another clack of his mouth-parts, he approached the young Heir Apparent, who had turned round in surprise to face him.

"Strange colors, from the Portal came," K'kihl elaborated, pointing to the ominously empty spot formerly occupied by the rip. "After the sorcerer, departed he had."

He allowed his mandibles to clatter a final time as he let his arm drop, then fell silent.

((OOC: This thread continues in Another Shade of All in the "Jedi/Sith" forums, thank you.))