RhoHalla blinked furiously as she hurried down the dimly lit corridors in the underbelly of the Great Temple of the Warriors, struggling to keep angry tears from erupting and coursing down her face. So intent was she on trying to keep this aspect of her psyche under control that she wasn't aware of her hastening pace; before she knew it she was practically running, her footfalls echoing hollowly against the uncaring stone.

That had been altogether too close! she fumed to herself. And where was Freedon? Hadn't he vowed to remain with her, to watch over her, to take her with him?

She reached out vainly.

Freedon, are you there?

Nothing. Only the stir of her own memories came in reply.

Without knowing where her budding mentor had gotten himself off to -- for all she knew this sudden absence of communication could very well mean he was dead! -- and not knowing how to follow in his footsteps, all she could do was go back to her mundane little position at the bottom of the totem pole.

She didn't like it one bit.

I'll do this myself, then, she vowed to herself, slowing now so as to think more logically.

Somehow, someway, I'll find those people he was referring to. I'll join them, somehow.

But for the moment, all she could do was try to figure out how that event was going to occur, exactly. It was enough to slow her pell-mell pace; with a sigh, she lowered her head and continued on at a mere walk, now allowing hot tears to finally escape from the imprisonment she had imposed upon them.

The daugher of the Dark Lady of the Sith, the Lady ShaRhylla...

Nevermind that it was only by pure happenstance that she, and she alone, was the sole person said populace could turn to... at least for the moment.

When her ego had filled to where it could hold nothing more, she raised her arms dramatically to the sky, the sleeves of her robes falling down to expose her pale and slender arms.

"For you!" she cried out, knowing full and well her powers would come to her at her merest whim, and by said whim would restore whatever in S'slan's Name they were down there moaning and complaining about. As for herself, she hadn't the slightest clue, nor, if anyone would ask, did she really care.

She made a gesture... and nothing happened. The mysterious devices running the great city remained silent; a fast running messenger departed, only to return with the shocking knowledge that the Great Library was yet dark and unresponsive.

The halfling frowned, forcing down a rising chill, and tried again, this time harder. Nothing. She blinked, waved a hand to create a portal into the Library...

Yet nothing.

The cries of the people took on an ominous overtone then, as with no further ado she ran back into her suites, locking herself in before further attempting anything with her innate talents.

She couldn't so much as create a sugarplum for her dessert.

Wafting out over the rising cries of the populace of Phrinnchatka, there now came a ululating howl, one born from the depths of anger and frustration...

And not laced without more than a little fear.

Panthar shrugged and stood, almost, in the small cockpit. A short crawl brought him to the passenger area of the converted bomber. The seats were empty, yet kept clean by the minimal maintenance offered by the Sith.

Panthar scratched his head and walked to the back panel across from him. Touching a button, he caused the panel to slide open, revealing a stack of three sleek black boxes sitting atop a larger flat box.

Intrigued, he removed the top box and opened it. Inside was white blaster, set in a cushioned niche that seemed to be made just for it. Below the barrel, also set in its own niche, was a com-link. Panthar smiled and checked the next box. Finding rations in this box, he removed the other identical box and set both aside.

Truly curious now, he took out the larger box and peeked inside. His face lit with delight and he whirled to return to the cockpit.

“You will never guess what I found!” he exclaimed as he sat. Matt returned a curious look to Panthar’s beaming face. Unable to control his excitement further, Panthar lifted the top off of the large box.

“Holo-chess!” he shouted.

Four standard hours later, Panthar finished a last game of solitaire chess and placed the lid on the box. Matt had been dozing for some time, and Panthar cleared his throat loudly to wake Matt.

"Ahhhh, I think I'll pass," he commented lightly. "After years of playing sabaac with Jasyn, I've become a bit competitive myself. And at the moment I'm short the credits to bid. Besides, I wanna give systems a good look over and make sure we're all set for reversion."

Saying nothing further, Matt did precisely that, looking over everything on the navboard with a fine-tooth comb. As he was finishing up, the hyperspace counter began winding its way down to zero, a red light blinking rhythmically on the navboard. And although Matt wasn't as good of a pilot as some others, he still managed to bring the modified TIE from hyperspace into realspace with a touch of grace.

He established orbit and then ran a planetary scan, frowning a bit as he did so.

"Ahhh, Panthar?" he queried,shooting a look over to the man in a Sith's body, "We might have a problem here. Although I've been here several times, I've never been the one piloting...

...and I don't know the coordinates for the spaceport or the capital city. Still, this ship was on Khar Delba, so the coordinates might be here..."

He trailed, pulling up the navigational logs as he did so. "But if not...

...we are going to have to find the port. And all things considered, we just might not want to sit down right in the port anyway...

...just to keep a low profile, you know."

And to keep a means of getting out of here if we need to, he thought to himself.

“Point taken,” he said. “Hopefully she won’t somehow blame us for this.”

Panthar paused, his eyes flicking to Matt.

“You, um… you don’t think she would do that, do you?”

A beeping sound interrupted Matt’s reply, and both men looked down at the navboard. I small light blinked next to a readout, and Panthar leaned in to read it.

“It looks like we better figure out where the spaceport is pretty soon,” he said. “This is saying that the fuel is low. I’ll check the log to see if we have any coordinate…”

Panthar reached for the navboard buttons, then stopped as another readout scurried across the screen.

He paused, keying something in on the navboard. "It'll have to do."

With nothing other than, Matt brought the modified fighter out of orbit and honed her in on the coordinates the log gave them, heading for atmosphere. As he did so, he kept his eyes peeled on both the navboard and the view screen...

...and became increasingly aware that the spaceport the logs were telling them was there wasn't there at all. Instead they were coming in on dense jungle...

...with no immediate signs of any good clearing to land the ship. Unfortunately, it was too late in the landing cycle to return to atmosphere and doing so would burn far too much fuel. Matt didn't have any other choice but to crash-land.

"Hang on!" he yelled, not even sparing a moment to look at Panthar. "We don't have the fuel to go back to atmosphere!"

Slowing the ship as much as he could, Matt continued to descend, finding the closest approximation to a clearing as he could, thankful that the ship they were in was at least fairly small. As they proceeded downward and the ship continued to slow, various and sundry unidentifiable scratches, bumps, gratings, and thumps could be heard as they half-landed, half-crashed, to the surface. The final few moments of landing consisted of nearly rolling to a standstill.

Only then did Matt take his eyes from the navboard to assess any personal injuries. Aside from a minor scratch or pain here or there, he was mostly unscathed. As he looked over to Panthar, Matt was thankful to find that the other man seemed fairly hale and whole, circumstances considered.

"Nice spaceport..." he muttered then, waiting for Panthar to recover and wondering just where on the planet they truly were.

The Preon exited hyperspace and smoothly glided to realspace as Shayla established orbit around the planet of K'eel Doba. In short order she then programmed in coordinates to Ch'arlingua into the navcomputer, letting her ship do the work of determining the appropriate time window to begin its descent. For a few moments, her greeny-blue eyes defocused then as she centered on something newly-developing within her psyche, something borne not unnatrally but instead of a growing understanding. Meditating upon that for some time, Shayla was only jarred from these thoughts as the Preon's navboard began to chirp insistently at her, indicating that it was leaving orbit and heading for atmosphere to begin the landing cycle.

Refocusing her attentions on the ship then, Shayla monitored the navboard as she headed into the bustling spaceport, still managing to land with an air of grace that no one other than a true pilot could manage. As the ship settled itself on the tarmac, Shayla cooled the engines and put them to sleep, fully expecting to be met upon exiting as she then got to her feet and brushed off her violet and silver flightsught. Surveying the controls of the Preon a final time, she left the cabin of the yacht and moved purposefully to the hatch of the ship. Keying in a series of numbers on the nearby control, she extended the hatch, pausing only a moment to remove a violet cloak from a wardrobe closet and wrap it about herself.

Departing the Preon entirely, she closed and secured the hatch even as she was approached by a pair of Sith warriors. She lowered her head respectfully, remaining motionless for a moment before looking up once more.

"I am Shayla Stargazer, Chosen Sister of Lady Graysith," she said simply, "I wish to speak with her or Lady ShaRhylla, with news of the utmost importance," she explained briefly, lowering her face once more in deference and waiting to see what the two warriors would do.

“Are you all right? Dang, what happened? I was hoping that the spaceport on the screen was the main one in the city, since this ship belonged to Darth What-his-name and he was probably using this ship before the Sith returned. But I didn’t expect jungle.”

Panthar rose and crawled back into the cargo area. He located the boxes in various places and gathered them up. He threw one of the rations boxes to Matt and tucked the other inside his shirt, then opened the blaster case and took out both the weapon and the communicator.

“All right, at least we have some food, water, and weapons. Now let’s see if we can find this old spaceport and figure out where we are.”

He touched the controls for the doorway, and even though a light blipped the door remained shut. He tried again, and again there was no response. Growling, he brought down his massive fist hard against the bulkhead next to the controls. The panel blipped, then lit up, and the door groaned open.

“You sure you’re all right?” he asked again. Matt nodded, and Panthar lingered for a moment and then stepped out into the jungle air. His head popped back, eyes and forehead set in a quizzical look.

He paused with that, scanning the area with his alert green eyes. "At least there looks like there is a clearing back that way," he indicated then, nodding in a particular direction. "Maybe that's our spaceport. Although wouldn't want to assume as much. This whole planet was completely different before the Sith's return. It's logical to assume the logs coordinates might not be so accurate now."

He shrugged then, beginning to walk as they headed towards the previously indicated clearing. In the clearing, nestled within a mountainous region, was a small, one story heavy-stone edifice. On its doors were multiple runes and symbols.

Matt frowned, never having seen this before. "I have no idea where we are," he indicated, pursing his lips. "I'd say we should pull up the ship's logs again, but they've already been proven faulty so I don't know were that would get us. Now might be a good time to see if one of our comm links can raise somebody to steer us in the right direction, since our ship is for the moment stuck were it is and low on fuel."

Matt sighed. "Unless, of course, you have a better idea."

“Hang on,” he said. “I can read Sith, maybe I can make this out.”

He walked closed to the stone and gazed upon the symbols. He was confused, expecting to see a recognizable pattern, instead was greeted with a series of strange images he could not immediately recognize.

“Whoa, this is really unusual. This is not Sith writing, per se… not letters… wait, wait a minute… These are symbols, and I’ve seen things like this before. On a planet, where I discovered the crystal that held Phalo-- wait a minute, this place seems really familiar. I think maybe I’ve been here before.”

Panthar looked around, trying to remember why these surroundings seemed familiar. He ran his hand along the stone and then onto the ancient door, tracing the images engraved upon it. He placed his finger into the groove that outlined a particular symbol, one he recognized but at the moment had trouble naming. It was a combination of sharp angles and smooth curves, bringing together the ferocity of conflict and the harmony of order…

“S’slan…”

Panthar’s eyes opened wide and shot to Matt.

“This is the Temple of S’slan!” he exclaimed.

Pausing then, he took a few steps about to take a further look at the area surrounding them. "There's jungle back that way," he said, pointing back towards the ship, "And mountains back that way," he said in the other direction.

“Go in?” he half shouted. “We’re not going in there! The last time we barely made it out, and I don’t want to even think about going in there again. It does things to you… really bad…. things.”

Panthar stared at the door, his finger still pressed against the smooth track of the symbol of S’slan.

“Graysith said that the warriors used this place to prepare for battle. I don’t even remember why we were here, I think to just get away from everyone for a while. I think we almost died, but that memory is buried. I could feel it in my mind, wanting me to think like it does, to go out and do harm to all…”

Panthar moved his hand along the door and felt the ancient cold of the metal handle that held the door shut. It too was lined with symbols, and he ran a finger along their unknown meanings. His finger then paused, coaxing its brothers to join it as it wrapped around the handle.

Panthar gasped as he realized what he was doing. He forced himself to step back, then shook his head and turned to Matt.

“Graysith opened a portal to bring us here, I don’t know the way to the city. But… but there are mountains near the city, right? Not jungle so much, but mountains.”

As he spoke, his head turned slowly back to the door. A deeply rooted desire to pull it open and enter the temple crept its way into his heart, and he saw his hand reaching outward for the handle once again.

A bead of sweat trickled its way down his forehead and dripped into his eye.

He trailed a walking over to the large sith and turning him away from the door, physically unable to wrap an arm about his shoulder in comraderie. Only after he'd gotten Panthar to step away a few paces did he motion towards the mountains, his words clesrly intended to draw his companion's attention away from the Temple.

Panthar looked back towards the mountains, his frown deepening.

“Looks like a long way to the mountains,” he said. “Might take a couple of days. So yeah, I’m with ya, let’s get started.”

One which most certainly confirmed to her that Graysith had been right all along, about a great many things.

The only thing that drew her from her thoughts was the transport slowing to a graceful stop. Again the warrior motioned her to follow, and again she complied, knowing where they were going but allowing him to take the lead out of nothing other than sheer respect. At length they finally came to the Temple and she was escorted inside into the Grand Foyer, where the warrior indicated that she stop. He then proceeded to have a conversation in High Sith with another, who nodded and turned, heading out of the Foyer and back towards an area Shayla knew held the living suites.

She merely waited, hoping that Graysith was at the Temple, more than willing to take whatever steps might be necessary to find her if she was not.

"A thousand pardons, Lady, but the Dark Lady is currently not within the Temple walls," he announced smoothly, his eyes pinned on a point approximately seventeen centimeters above her left shoulder.

"The Lady ShaRhylla is in, but has been... indisposed for some time now.."

“So,” he broke into the silence. “How do you think the others are faring? You think Shayla has come back yet? I can’t imagine what Eric and her are going through. Oh, man, and I know I must have seemed cold back there… Everything is just so strange now.”

"The Dark Lady's life is in danger," Shayla said in a voice low and full of portent. "Finding her is of the greatest importance, and I need Lady ShaRhylla's help."

Shayla paused then, considering. "I know of the loss of powers and magicks...

... as well as how it happened and what we must do to possibly regain them."

She fell silent a moment, letting those words speak for themselves. "I am willing to deal with Lady ShaRhylla's wrath myself, for the sake of Graysith's the Dark Lady, if you can tell me where I might find her."

But if what this young human was saying now was indeed true...

Surely the Lady will forgive me bringing her into her presence, and if angered just might take it out on her instead of me.

He closed his eyes, and bowed fractionally.

"If you will follow me then," he said without missing a beat before turning and leading Shayla from their current position and into the warren of corridors which lead into the very heart of the great temple. After several turns, and after going down a particularly noisome set of moss-ridden stairs, they came upon an immense, blackened door. A dim reddish light showed at the base of it.

The Major Domo stopped and bowed.

"These are the rooms the Lady has taken to of late," he said, the closest apology Shayla would receive for being led so far away from the inhabited part of the magnificent temple.

"You will find her within those doors."

"ShaRylla?" she called, not daring to enter further for the moment out of a remaining respect for the younger woman's privacy despite her audacity to actually enter therein. "It's Shayla. The Sith need you, powers or not. Your mother's life is in danger...

...we both know that, we both saw it. And right now she is with him."

Shayla paused a moment, pursing her lips. "There may be a way we can get back the powers that have been lost."

No, this was a place of bloodshed, of madness and murder. It was an adjunct to the temple to S'slan, the Sith god of war. And it was to him that ShaRhylla had alternately prayed and railed, praised and reviled, all in the hopes of regaining that which had once been as natural to her as blinking an eye.

To no avail. Her god remained aloof, no matter how many servants' appendages she truncated, no matter how many throats she slit, no matter how many bodies she sent via tongueless slaves to quietly disappear into the even deeper bowels of the temple.

From the shadows then she came, her interest piqued, her arm lowering from its prepatory throwing position, her jeweled dagger hotly clenched.

"It is good I remember you," the words hissed out from between her fangs. "Or you would not now be standing."

She came fully into the open, perhaps bereft of the All but not of the fighting abilities taught to her by Dark Lord Roan... or at least that which at the time she had believed to be her then-beloved father. Her slim body was barely covered by a short fighting tunic, cut both low and high, and bearing no sleeves to entangle her. Golden armlets encrusted with jewels of scarlet and turquoise and impossible black, such as those worn by Darth Wicked, encircled her upper arms and ankles; her bared toes gripped the floor as would those of a hunting rancor. She crossed completely out of the shadows then and came up to Shayla, and as if the sudden appearance of the Chosen Sister was the most everyday occurence in her world came to a halt before her.

"You may speak," she said haughtily, well recalling how the last time they were with each other Shayla had seemed to be taking a bit of the upper hand. This she would simply not tolerate, though this woman was special to her mother. She was, after all, merely chosen by her; wasn't she, ShaRhylla, blood of her blood and thus kin of her line?

Not that she had anything personal against Shayla; at least not anything more than she would against anyone else. A dark flicker in the greenish-blue eyes before her helped remind her of this. But she was In Line, and by blood destined to rule, halfling though she was.

And if her powers returned, she would be certain of it; thus she condescended to listen to what Shayla had to say.

She paused, pursing her lips thoughtfully. "This happened, as I have come to understand, because we have been using our powers for minor, insignificant things rather than for the Greater Good. People have been using talents to protect the ones they love..."

Trailing, her eyes defocused a bit. "...and to achieve personal goals, on a widespread scale." Her eyes snapped alert then, and she refocused on ShaRhylla's eerie, bicolored eyes. "Beings known as the Yuuzhan Vong, who originate from another galaxy, are coming to conquer this galaxy. They have been here before, but were defeated. Now they return with another one, one who is powerful, one whom both your mother and I have encountered..."

She hesitated then, recalling what had happened to her when she had been taken by the Darkness, her greeny-blue eyes darkening impossibly. "I believe that one is in league with Powers within the Darker Realms," she then explained, relating how she had found and spoken to the him via the Vong villip she had found within the Temple of the Armorers. "The Master has been in league with the Darkness, and would exchange his son for its power...

...although I believe he is not aware of the Link between the Realms and the Vong. If he gives his Son, as he has been planning, what you and I saw in the Revealer regarding your mother's death will come to pass, I am certain of it. She is with him now, and things are already taking place which may bring the Revealer's image to reality."

Again she paused, her eyes growing impossibly darker. "Power, not love. Recall our discussion of the Female Triad, of three ladies strong in power to rule rather than the current Triumvirate? As it stands the Sith triad, led by the Lords, is riddled with those who are held powerless in Love, and with one who is being used as a Grand Pawn by the Master."

"We must regain your mother, and seek the Power the Female Triad will bring, one not manipulated by matters of the heart, in order to save the Galaxy. In striving for this I believe the Power which has been blocked from us all will be restored...

...at least to those who would use said power only for the Greater Good of All. That Which Is has implied this...

...and regardless, I feel true power comes from within, and not merely via Force and LAll abilities."

Shayla cocked her head slightly. "Consider yourself. You are the daughter of the Dark Lady, and by blood the Heiress. Your natural-borne All abilities are but part of the reason you are Powerful. I see it within you even now."

Personally, ShaRhylla didn't give a womprat's hind end for the good of anybody but herself... but something Shayla mentioned rang true.

Power. The power she had within her, loss of her abilities or no.

She fought back her rising bloodlust and immaturity a moment -- quite a dangerous combination, that -- and allowed herself to think. Really think.

Power... yes, that she most assuredly possessed. For, even without having any abilities left to her, not a drop, wasn't she yet viewed with trembling eye and even more trembling heart by those within this temple's walls? Didn't she already show this, by the recent sacrifices she had made to S'slan, sacrifices which came to her, fearful to die but even more fearful to stand up to her?

Yes. Power she did have. Strength, just like her Father.

But her mother...

"You say Mother is yet with... him," she opened smoothly, curling her fingers to study her pearly claws. Her bi-colored eyes flicked to Shayla.

"Is this of her own will, or his? How can Mother be one of the Triad, if she is yet committing herself to-- to--"

She could scarcely bring herself to say the word, for she couldn't really think of any reason the Dark Lady would otherwise remain with him. S'slan alone knew how she had worked and worked to remove herself from this terrible temptation since her abandonment by Rykounagin.

"To love!" she finally spat, clenching her fist now and raising it up before herself. She shot dagger eyes at Shayla then, before continuing.

"And what of you in this regard?" she whispered blackly, the hiss inherent to that simple question sending shadows to skirling back and away in terror of their portent.

Shayla met ShaRhylla's firey eyes with her darkening greeny-blues. "I have only recently come to understand her teaching, truly. She has simply forgotten and does not know what Lord Phalomir will do to her, whether he will intentionally or as a mere pawn...

"I agree," she said succinctly, her entire aspect suddenly changing from an ambushing dianoga to that of a hungry rancor. Hiding the darkness that flashed up in her soul, she let forth an artificial yawn, and went to the back of the dangerous room.

There stood a violet-besmeared altar to an even more dangerous god. She reached out a finger, wiped it in the coagulating Sith blood, and held it up for contemplation.

"The Warriors already have pulled away from the Triumvirate," she said, suddenly shrewd. "This I know from what Mother had told me. I do not think they wish to return to that either, they do not need them. It is an old way, an ancient way, a way leading to nothing but stagnant tradition."

She whirled, twining the bloody finger through her hair now.

"How to convince them that in the case of One, Three would lead. Surely they are growing used to the guidance of One Lady, don't you think?"

Her brows lowered, covering her flashing eyes like thunderheads.

"How can we trust Mother now, she who has remained with-- Him for so lengthy a time?"

She stared at Shayla, not really seeing her, seeing only a blustering Dark Lord who once treated her like a disobedient child. That was something she never could tolerate, hadn't at the time, and certainly didn't come close to doing now. Push come to shove, she simply didn't like Phalomir, and trusted no one who associated with him.

...and then turned from it to become stronger."

Shayla paused. "She will do the same. Aside from that, That Which Is allowed me to be a vessel rejoin her spirit to her body...

"Are you certain of this?" she breathed darkly. Then she pulled back, donning her cloak of aloof hauteur once more.

"How do you propose we save Mother?" she asked, the tone of her voice implying that she didn't care if they did or not.

"Where is she, and what are is it you wish for me to do?"

That alone was a rare enough thing, that ShaRhylla would suffer herself to be willing subject of someone else's desire.

He paused, continuing to walk. "As for whetehr or not Stargazer has returned, I can't say. You forget--or perhaps simply aren't aware--that back when Terrin and Galen first met and we got involved in all of this, Shayla and Graysith were the "bad guys." We were looking for some weapon called the Nar Khelba and trying to protect Galen and her baby, the Jedi were trying to find Shayla who had been kidnapped from the Praxeum...

..and Kartan was looking for her along with the Jedi. It took her some time before she let him in to her defenses, based on what I observed. She seemed quite at home being with Graysith, and keeping him mostly at bay."

Quieting for a moment, Shayla pursed her lips slightly, then continued. "Lord Phalomir is on Endor as well, and they intend to try and make a truce with the Empire. Is this what you think is best for your people?" Shayla queried, cocking a brow.

"You have a chance to stop them, now, before this happens."

Shayla's greeny-blues met Rhylla's bicolored eyes. "Besides, as it stands you are in the Blood Line to lead the Warriors. Yet there are other clans as well."

Shayla quirked a brow. "Unless a change is brought about those clans will continue to be lead by weaker vessels...

...and Lord Phalomir yet bears the marks of all three. You the only one who stands in a rightful Blood Line to deal with this."

Shayla paused. "The Bloodline of your Mother, who became Dark Lady in a rightful challenge."

"How he has come to carry the marks of all three clans is beyond me; certainly not by blood!" she spat, then gave another sniff. For the Sith honored bloodline above all else; well was she aware of her position in the heirarchy of political structure.

Even though my father wasn't the true Dark Lord Roan, she gulped to herself, but firmed quickly. No matter; a stronger father one could never find. Truly I am the perfect one for the warrior clan!

She cocked her head, considering all Shayla had said.

"To make a true change is to erase the clanships, and unite the Sith as one people," she said, surprising herself for her objectivity.

"People who will once again lead the galaxy."

And I will lead them, and be Queen; no, Empress...

The word had a nice ring to it, bringing a snarly little smile to her lips. The smile deepened at the further thought of her Mother approaching the Imperials.

Perhaps she will then be destroyed for what she did to them, she thought to herself. If I am lucky, both shall. And I will be left... with that doddering old spell-weaver Aelvedaar.

No matter. He too must have lost his abilities; he will be as easy to squash as a gleeberfly...

Her eyes narrowed with cunning, and she pierced Shayla with them.

"What would you do?" she asked, and fell silent.

Panthar walked a few steps, contemplating.

“But it’s always a matter of perspective, right?” he mused. “I suppose some people might think other people, like Phal or Erik, are bad guys somehow. Heck, for all I know, someone thinks I’m a bad guy. Like maybe the people who have my briefcase.”

Panthar trailed off at that, but shook his and continued. “It’s a little strange, you know? Seems like everything we do these days involves more than just saving the galaxy. I mean, that’s like a bug huge thing that we’ll probably mess up anyway, so in a way it doesn’t count. But everything else we do is about running around trying to help out a friend. Like the effort of saving Shawn and Erik, and trying to help Gray when she was zapped out of her body by the Master, or trying to find Shayla… I dunno, it’s just hard to think that after all we’ve been through together, some of us would just turn like that. I wonder if Shayla still feels the Darkness in her?”

"I would do whatever needs to be done so that the Greater Good is served," she said evenly. "The Sith should have the powers that are innate to them restored, and I am willing to do what has been requested to achieve this. The clans should be abolished, and brought under a singular rule, one that in turn should be brought to rule the entire galaxy. Only then does this galaxy stand a chance against the return of the Yuuzhan Vong."

Shayla trailed then, her eyes growing a bit dark. "What will you do when the Vong arrive, with their Dark Ally? They will give you the Power...

...but then they will use you to place themselves in control. I know this, for the Darkness used your Mother as well as I for purposes of its own...

...and then left us both when it was done. If you want to be in power, truly, and not be a pawn to the Vong and the Darker Realms, you will need your humanness too, ShaRhylla."

He trailed a moment, moving a stray branch out of his way as they began to walk through forest. "But that's not really what your asking, I suppose. If whatever possessed her is still there, then what are we really going to do about it? I mean, she has managed to seem at least fairly "normal" for quite some time. Where is the line between possession and the choice to allow the darkness to creep in?"

Panthar shook his head again, clearing his mind from the hideous memories.

An hour later the woods gave way further to more open areas, and finally opened up onto a wide road. Panthar looked apprehensively at Matt, who returned the exact same expression, then shrugged and stepped out onto the road. Panthar looked towards the city, or at least where they hoped the city lay, and saw nothing but open road. He then glanced the other direction, doing a double take.

Approaching them was a long line of Sith. Judging from the garments they wore, Panthar guessed them to be farmers and tradesmen from the outlying villages. The first in line was quite near, and Panthar could see that he carried a small pack on his back. As he passed by it was clear that the pack contained loaves of bread, a water skin, and was bulging at the bottom with something heavy.

The Sith looked long at Panthar as he walked past, a mix of sorrow and vain hope in his eyes. He was followed by a younger Sith male, dressed in the same simple clothing and carrying a pack as well. Curious and brazen, Panthar stepped forward.

“Greetings!” he said as he walked alongside the younger Sith. His hand waved towards Matt, urging him to follow. “What brings you… and these other forty or fifty folks out?”

The younger Sith turned wearily to Panthar, his face expressionless.

“Offerings to S’slaan,” he said simply, turning to face forward once more. “To atone.”

Panthar slowed, then stepped aside and watched the line move past him. He looked to Matt, an eyebrow raised.

"I am Sith!" she hissed, bristling, as with one look and the innate threat that her body stance carried she silently suggested to Shayla that she had best watch her step. For a long moment nothing was exchanged between the two of them save for the sounds of their heartbeats; then the Heir Apparent let her breath escape from her and straightened. On gliding feet she went to a far corner, and simply stared into the shadows inhabiting it. Shadows that roiled like noxious oil, carrying with them a hint of red-sparked eyes, which stared out at her with insolent mockery upon them.

"It seems to me that we have no fear of the Dark Ones," she finally retorted, whirling about to face Shayla. "For they cannot come here now into our realm..."

This she knew down to the heart of every cell in her body. Being once not merely a creature of the Dark but with it as well, she knew how quick the denizens of that realm would be to take any advantage that they could of the lighter planes, an advantage they would have of a certainty since powers seemed to have vanished from every place. At least ShaRhylla assumed this to be so; her eyes narrowed and she studied Shayla a bit longer.

"What powers have you at the moment, and if none, what exactly did you have?" she suddenly asked, putting to the back of her mind any question she had been about to ask about the "Greater Good."

"And how are you so certain that our magicks are to be restored?"

By which, of course, she really referred to her own abilities, abilites rather unique among the Sith...

“No,” he said, “I don’t think they came from the temple. I think they came from the nearby towns and villages. I wonder if some of the basic devices in the city – lights, trains, that sort of thing – are powered somehow through the Sith magick. They get their power from somewhere, and I don’t recall seeing much room to put battery packs in some of that stuff. But it would seem odd that people out in the country would be affected by that.”

Panthar thought for a moment, then a light smile crossed his lips. It was a smile that often appeared when he was heading deeply into his archeological mind.

“The people of this world are pretty much all warriors, when it comes down to it. But not everyone is going to make a living being a soldier, right? To have a functioning society, you need tradesmen, farmers, skilled laborers, and all. The triad was made up of warriors, armorers, and sorcerers, right? The armorers made all of the cool tools and devices, using the knowledge of the sorcerers. Of course, all three clans would share the same technology. Now, the Warriors drew away from the triad, so I’ve been told, but I wonder if that was really more political than practical, and the people in the country are not quite as separated as those in the capital city.”

Panthar glanced at Matt, who was staring back.

“What I’m getting at is if the basic tools stopped working out in the country, then some of that was probably powered by Sith magick somehow. If that’s the case, then surely there are similar problems in the city, but maybe on a larger scale. In fact, I’m willing to bet that--”

Panthar walked closer to one of the Sith travelers, sidling up to a younger looking adult.

“So, going to offer your possessions to S’slaan in hopes that he gives back the magick?”

"This is a strange question you ask," he finally said, blinking now to alleviate the sudden, if subtle, tension that was mounting.

"What other is there to do? Something has offended the Dark One; we go to seek his forgiveness and beg the restoration of all that was."

He turned away to hurry along and catch up with his fellows, but paused. Again, something akin to tension floated in the bright sunlight as he turned once more to Panthar, this time openly eyeing the apparent Sith's strange travelling companion.

"Do you take this as blood sacrifice?" he asked. His gaze darted to Matt once more, but this time the look he raked him with was a bit more appraising.

"Surely the Great Dark One will restore all that is lost when the blood of this one is shed for him. Ho!"

Now he raised his arm, and began waving it enthusiastically. The bag he carried dropped unnoticed to the ground, opening from the impact to allow the escape of a small, furry farm animal. It lost no time making itself scarce even as the other Sith came back and encircled the two, turning hollowed, hungry eyes from one to the other before settling back upon the one who had hailed them back. That fine worthy wasted no time, but pointed toward the human.

"Here is blood worthy enough for the honor of being sacrificed!" he announced jubilantly, albeit in a tone of voice that was tinged somewhat with hysteria. For to tell the truth, there wasn't a Sith in this group who could begin to fathom any other reason than the anger of their god as being why they had been left bereft of their former strengths. And a warrior without total strength, ability and power did not consider himself Sith, let alone worthy of walking the soil of K'eel Doba.

Tightening their clawed hands as if about the shafts of invisible weapons, they closed ranks about Panthar and Matt, and one by one began dropping the bags and bundles they had been carrying as offerings to their god.

“Well,” he started, under his breath. “Not exactly what I had in mind…”

The group of warriors was growing more and more frenzied, and Panthar decided he had better act before Matt became a kabob.

“Better than that!” he shouted over the Sith. “This one is not a lowly sacrifice, this one is special! He has witnessed the taking of what was lost, and brings a message to the Dark Lady!”

Panthar stepped closely to the closest warrior and tilted his head to speak softly.

“I don’t want to say this too loudly, but I cannot help but wonder at the marvelous wisdom of the... the Great Dark One. Sending a human to deliver his message? Is it because the Dark Lady is in human form? Praise to the wonders of his wisdom!”

Panthar stepped back and raised his voice once more.

“I was at first wary of this human, to be sure, but I have come to believe he speaks the truth. I am escorting him to the Dark Lady, for surely only one with a true message would have the courage to do what he is now doing. Will you aid me in this quest, my brothers? For surely the rewards would be many for those on a righteous journey.”

Panthar lowered his voice again, addressing the closest Sith warrior.

"My friends!" he cried, turning to the vaguely hostile little throng. "Praise be to S'slan, who in his wisdom is letting us know that it was not by His hand that troubles have descended upon us, but by that of Another! Praise be to S'slan, who in his glory has sent unto us a benefactor, one who will restore our powers to us!

"But you heard this one--" He pointed quickly at Panthar before taking the grandstand once again. "This human must be delivered unto the Dark Lady! Let us lend them every assistance, for I too wish to hear the words of S'slan which are destined to come from this one's mouth!"

All thought of sacrifice now being tossed to the wind, they transformed their threatening ring into a protective one, and to a warrior whirled and proceeded down the dusty road, enveloping Panthar and Matt in a circle of unyielding, red flesh which hastened along at a such a pace as to force the two of them to trot.

She paused, falling silent for the barest of moments. "I have just begun to learn of the All, and my powers in that are minimal."

Again she fell silent, pursing her lips in thought, for the first time perhaps considering what she could, in light of the loss of powers, do to aid the Greater Good solely on what she had. "I am however an excellent pilot...

...and I have links to an information smuggling agency which may be of use. If the Sith are going to come to lead the galaxy as I believe they should, and stand to fight and win against the incoming Yuuzhan Vong...

It isn't really there, she thought to herself. It-- it cannot be. There is no way for anyone there to now break through to here; powers are gone, there is not another means of making a portal, and my dearest Dark One, one who could easily flow from one realm unto the other is gone...

She stopped in her tracks, her eyes widening as a forgotten improbability suddenly turned possible.

Could it be--?

The strange little point immediately vanished, making ShaRhylla wonder if she had simply imagined the thing being there at all. Perhaps it hadn't; perhaps it simply was a manifestation of her own musings, her own memories, her own frustrated desires and yearnings momentarily brought to life.

But whatever it was, real or not, it was enough to remind her once again of her own rather unique background. Not to mention how far above the mundane she truly considered herself. She drew herself up haughtily with a little sniff.

"I have no need of such... things," she spat, twirling a lock of hair between her fingers.

"Information; pah! Of what use is this to a warrior? What do I care for this? Not a bit; your powers are useless, as is what you have to offer. I do not fear the Darker Realms, or anyone therein, even if they could pop into our place at this very moment! Further, I have no proof of what you say; you are wasting my time! Begone!

"Or else give me reason to believe you about this invasion, as well as your claim of lost powers being restored."

Narrowing her eyes, she fell into a foreboding silence, flaming lock still a-twirl.

"I have nothing further to offer you in regards to the return of powers other than what That Which Is has said," she indicated, pausing for a brief moment then.

"As to proof of a coming Vong invasion, there is a villip on Kori'san which connects the chrome-eyed one on board their ship which is enroute to our galaxy. I wonder if Kori'san, which was once shielded in Elseness, is thus any longer?" she then mused in seeming non sequiter.

"At any rate, I know of this ship, for both your mother and I spent time captive aboard it...

...as you did as well, as an infant."

The chrome-eyed one...

Her own eyes grew muzzy themselves as once again she fixed them upon a point somewhere over Shayla's left shoulder. Once again, something almost there seemed to shimmer, to whisper without sound, to taunt without corporeality.

As did something else she seemed to remember... something...

Other.

Into her muzzy state strange sensations began lazily swimming, dipping and pirhouetting, swooping up very close, oh so very close, to consciousness only to sink back into shadowy depths and disappear. But the attempt was enough; it sparked something, bringing forth something she had once felt with every cell of her body:

Extreme, unrelenting annoyance with something... or someone, something that simply wasn't her, wasn't as she...

And over it all came an even more distant echo of gibbering laughter, of discordant notes, of black satisfaction of the kind purported to be near-love inherent in that-which-knows-none.

Did she remember? No... not quite. But deep within herself, something basic, something primal...

Felt.

She blinked suddenly, erupting from her fugue, and pinned her bi-colored eyes on Shayla's sea-green ones.

"Only the weak allow themselves to become captives," she whispered, the words chilling the air as much as they chilled her. For quite suddenly she knew what had happened to her at practically the moment of her birth, came close to recalling on something more than a subliminal level a great, hulking Darkness which took her elsewhere...

And then there was she. Herself. Now. Being trained in those ways of the warrior which are embodied in such monochromatic statements as that one.

Pausing then, Shayla's greeny-blue eyes deepened to that of an incoming storm. "The Chrome-eyed one captured your mother, with help from a demonic imp, and I allowed myself to be exchanged to protect her. And he had you there as well, ShaRhylla. When the darkness from the Darker Realms that was in me activated the villip on Kor'isan, He spoke of the Nexus being infiltrated and of the moves that were being made to defeat us..."

She trailed, her eyes growing impossibly darker. "...and for a time both your mother and I were controlled by something other than ourselves...

...and he even went so far as to have you taken as a child. "He has singled us out as a threat to his mission; why else would he speak of the such things and have us captive aboard his ship?"

Pausing again, Shayla pursed her lips thoughtfully. "I wonder if it was truly our innate abilities he found to be a threat...

...or if perhaps it is the very essence of who and what we are?"

Had to hear it. If only to make it real.

If proven, that is...

Father--

A great swell of dark, bloodied love rushed through her, as overwhelming as a tsunami, then subsided.

Did he order her taken to the Vong ship? Did he order the same be done to her Mother and Shayla?

On one hand she lauded him. On the other, back-peddled feverishly away from rising fear and disbelief.

...I was exchanged to take her place aboard that same ship by Lord Aelvedaar. And how he came to know the whereabouts of a ship outside our galaxy..."

Eventually, when Panthar and Matt were nearly breathless and ready to collapse, they cleared the country and began to enter more civilized areas. Still the warriors pushed on, until Panthar could take no more. Lungs afire, he held up his hand and tried to wheeze “Stop!”

But he did not have to say it, for the band did stop. Panthar stopped, hands on his knees, and tried to catch his breath. He heard the lead warrior shout something out, then raised his head to see another band of Sith approaching.

She knew.

--before subsiding as quickly as it had come. Her usual haughty demeanor flowed in to fill the emptied niche; lifting her chin now, she peered down her nose at Shayla.

For a moment he considered merely commanding the ragtag bunch to move aside, that he and his men might go on about the mission they had been sent out upon. But then he reconsidered.

They might have seen something, or heard something, or they might know of something...

"Ho, you!" he shouted, his cry sending his tuk'ata into a momentary fit of anticipation. After he had calmed it, he continued.

"You... there are prisoners gone from the Temple. Someone must have assisted them, for no one escapes the dungeons of the Temple of the Warriors.

"Have you seen anything suspicious, anyone fitting this description?"

Quickly he described Sorben Tarnus- which in a nutshell was merely stated as "human" -and Thoran; indeed, he really had no qualms about letting this out. For all who were made privy to such knowledge were automatically obliged to remain silent about it, upon pain of a tortured death. Likewise, if they knew of any information but chose to stupidly withold it, great woe would betide them once this little bit of treachery was uncovered. Indeed, it eventually would be.

The Captain glared down at the suddenly quieted group, satisfied with their respectful silence, and was about to bid the one who appeared to be heading the group to speak when the rasping sound of someone trying to catch his breath caught his attention. No proper Sith on this particular world would dare allow himself to get into such poor physical shape, as was evidenced by the fact that none of the others were making so much as a peep.

"You!" he commanded in a deep bass voice, his blue-tinged salmon eyes piercing into Panthar's own even as his pointing spear most assuredly promised to do.

"What do you know of this?"

It was then that the little group shuffled silently en mass away from Panthar... and in the process revealed the presence of Matt, who had been hidden by their larger bodies. The Captain's eyes darkened to mahogany.

"It is the pair!" he cried, turning halfway round toward his men.

"Arrest them, and take them to the Temple. And take these worthless excuses for Sith with them, for having the stupidity to run with escaped criminals! By this act are they such as well!"

Before the group could say or do anything they found themselves ringed by tuk'ata, one look at whose gnashing fangs and razored claw was all they needed to bend in submission and allow themselves to be herded off into the city of Phrinnchatka.

"Because your Mother would not allow the Sorceror Lord to retrieve her via the All," Shayla commented. "An exchange was the only other way to take her from that ship...

...and I was the only one who could take her place."

She cocked her head, giving Shayla a calculating look.

As Shayla considered, she remembered something else as well that happened on that day. "When Lord Aelvedaar came and told us that he could not retrieve her, and could only replace her, I misunderstood his meaning initially. He became angry and blocked my abilities and memories."

Shayla paused, frowning to herself. "I would have taken her place without his rash act, for the Greater Good. She is the one single individual that I do trust. Still, he knew I would offer myself, and implied as much...

...and he was correct."

So why the quick act of blockng all of your abilities? Why did he not realize the misunderstanding...?

...Or was it to him a convenient reason to remove you from the place Graysith had given you despite his initial...

...and perhaps continuing...

...disapproval?

Something niggled, whether within or without ShaRhylla couldn't be certain, but that it niggled she was most certainly aware.

What cared she of these things.

Her eyes slitted; then her demeanor flipped in an instant, and she glided to a nearby sideboard. There she helped herself to a dainty goblet of Sith brandy, offerring none to Shayla. Turning to face the young woman, she lifted the goblet to her lips and took a sip.

Shayla paused. "It will matter not to them who landed the fatal blow to their blockade...

...only that you are one of them. And, at the moment, you are here...

"You seem so certain," she finally purred as she swirled the greeny-gold liquid in the goblet she held.

"How do you know that the Empire will not care who has struck this blow to them? Are you an envoy here from their midst? No, I think not.

"I think that if the one responsible is offerred up to them, why... perhaps they will be so grateful as to ally themselves with us against these invaders, which--"

She set her goblet down on the sideboard, then cut her eyes directly into Shayla's.

"Which I really have no proof are coming at all, other than your mere statement of this," she said smoothly, even as that cutting gaze was dragged abruptly away.

Off in the corner, there seemed to be a vague movement, as if a shadow had become briefly wrinkled before straightening out once more. But then... perhaps it was some trick of the flames, which crackled and popped in the fireplace...

Matt didn't dare move to answer it and risk unwanted attention...

He didn't have to say anything, just nodded his head in a meaningful manner. Indeed, the alert of an incoming message wasn't anything new to these soldiers; it didn't take long for one of them to investigate more thoroughly, discover the source, and divest Matt of it cleanly, if a bit roughly. The unit was brought up to the Captain, who took it into his clawed hand and stared at it for a bit.

Then his hand closed upon the comm-link, crushing it and quite effectively truncating whatever message it was attempting to transmit.

"You have more than my word, unless what you remember of the Vong ship you are dismissing as nothing more than your imagination," she said evenly, pausing then to simply fall silent and watch for a moment.

The image faded... and the halfling shrugged.

"Memories of the Vong I may retain, yes," she said, raising a hand to her lips to pat back a rising if totally false yawn. "But where is the proof of their destination? I may have been aboard their ship, as had you--"

Her eyes flashed open to then dagger into Shayla's.

"But where that particular ship actually was, and what it's purpose was, is something that is anybody's guess. You still offer me no proof.

"As for any worries pertaining to the Empire when they too supposedly will attack us, why..."

Her eyes narrowed to cat's slits, and she smiled evilly.

Well, at least we’re making good time, he thought. In actually, they were making excellent time, and he marveled at how well his Sith legs carried him. He did feel sorry for Matt, however, for his human lungs had to be about at the breaking point. He thought about saying something to this effect when the commander halted the group once again.

The group of warriors spread out in the tiniest of distance, but just enough to allow Panthar to poke his head around a shoulder and see that they had arrived at a watch post of some kind. The city lay behind the station.

He hoped that he would be at least be asked who he was and what he was doing, but he had spent enough time around warriors now to not assume that would be the case. So he took a chance and shouted out quickly to the warriors before him.

"No, I do not," Shayla then replied evenly. "And yet I am one of only two who have connected with the All by means other than inherent ability. And I truly believe the Sith are the ones who should be leading this galaxy, Vong incoming or not. You may believe that the Sith are an entity within themselves, and that they will never face a foe they cannot defeat."

And she was here, more than likely, to get a piece of this for herself...

ShaRhylla didn't say anything, just slitted her eyes in contemplation at such miniscule concerns.

And her worry was whether the halfling would inadvertently lead her people into Darkness...

A mysterious little smile curled about ShaRhylla's lips at this, floating there for a moment or two before fading away.

"What is that, truly..." she sighed, almost to herself but definitely loud enough that the words would slide into Shayla's ears. A flicker of that smile appeared again, this time remaining to frame the tips of her suddenly exposed fangs.

She cocked her head a bit to one side, her eerie eyes now the color of night.

"You have not told me yet why this is of such a concern to you," she whispered, the inherent query in that statement filling the air with oil-black silken filaments even as from somewhere other vague sibilants that promised to be words seem to waft into her being.

"Not in entirety, that is."

She stopped abruptly, her eyes growing distant, reading something in the shadows only she could see. Then--

"Tell me, Shayla. What is this Greater Good that you spoke of before?"

The darkness in her demeanor, in her eyes, carried almost completely unheard upon her words, now vanished. She cocked her head further to one side, and sent Shayla a genuinely curious look.

"As prisoners, you have a right to air your defense before the Dark Lady," he growled.

"There you may try your best to convince her that the dungeons of Phrinnchatka are not the best destination for you and your--"

He cut his eyes to Matt, and covered the man with an even more intense glare.

"Human friend! As well as those who would journey with you."

With that he dismissed the lot entirely, concentrating now on holding everyone at this watch station while he awaited further orders. For sometimes the audience he had mentioned wasn't necessarily granted the moment a prisoner was brought within the walls of the great Temple.

Stretching outward, defying, feeling for the fleeting connection that yet holds between the Darker Realms and it’s child, he reaches for her…

Time and again, flickering notions of pure blackness filter and fade into the room, only to blink out of existence just as quickly as they came…

But it does not halt. A brief spot in the corner of her eye, a small tingle in the small of her back… she feels its presence, its attempts to tell her…

But it yet cannot speak clearly to her…

Only the whispered echoes of words, and only in her mind….

‘Speak to me…’

She had no idea her mother had blocked her past with the Darker Realms from not only her conscious but unconscious mind. She could never have guessed that the recent block against all paranormal abilities was now not only the bane she had railed against, but boon to her as well:

With the barrier against unthinkable memories now gone, they were allowed freedom to be. To niggle. To whisper. To flower.

To remind her who she was.

Not one lick of this did she reveal as she waited for Shayla to answer her. But a part of her being turned from that which was real, opening itself up with a little rush of viciousness to greet that which had come back to her again.

And overlooking who she was, she let herself dwell upon the what.

Even as her violet-ringed eyes peered steadily into Shayla's, a tiny portion of them focused inward.

"Where have you been?" she more than thought, less than spoke, relishing the shiver of anticipation that rippled through her body at the words.

“I have been waiting for you,” came the reply. “In our most fondest and deadliest of places, with a heart of blackness and a driving need. But speak not, rend the flesh of space and come to me now.”

...and then an answer easily flowed into her psyhe, as though it had been with her all along. And perhaps it had been at that.

"The Greater Good is the survival of the Natural Order of Life and Death and all that is."

Though her answer appeared simple and short, it was anything but that...

No.

She was at last truly recognizing herself as being part and parcel of it, through the two simple facts of what she was upon her birth...

And what upon her death.

An overwhelming sensation of selfness popped into place, and strangely enough, although it was truly the beating heart of darkness, in that simple discovery she found her individuality was lost. Gone, long corrupted, devoured, eaten away, to be replaced by that which never dies.

Which, unlike frail flesh, can never die, so long as there is nourishment to feed it.

What inhabited the body of ShaRhylla, or personified itself by it, closed her eyes, chuckling to itself for the great foolie it was perpetrating, and focused inward once more.

"Yes-ss-sss..." she thought back, reaching beyond the necessity of something so mundane as a Portal through the dimensions and into the rest of herself.

"Here is the window by which the truth can be revealed."

With that she opened her eyes again and gave Shayla a studied look.

"Oh, how terribly boring," she whispered, chewing her lip with a delicate bite. For a moment she simply stood there, her brows bunching just the tiniest as she peered more deeply at Shayla, as if into her very soul.

What she saw there seemed to be standing carefully on one foot, the other lifted in preparation of taking a step. But toward what, in what direction? This appeared to be unknown at the moment, especially considering the growing steadiness by which the young woman replied to her.

The corner of ShaRhylla's lip lifted higher, exposing more of her dainty, ivory fang.

"And you find this acceptable?" she asked, letting her eyes go bright and turquoise again, cleared of all hints of any other emotion but simple curiosity.

It was as if a dark, barely acknowledged memory hung over them, one promising a destiny darker yet, one sliced by electric blade and frighteningly silent intent.

Soon the runner came to the Great Temple itself. Mounting the steps leading up from street level, he bounded up them by threes, coming to the truncated top where a protected doorway awaited him. He nodded to the pair of guards which flanked this door, barking a particular code to them as he approached. They nodded in turn, moving aside, and allowed him entry.

Through the pillared foyer he went, past the comforting side corridor leading to his barracks, and on through yet another set of doors that opened into the temple proper. There he went to the Great Dining Hall, where after a wait of but little time he made contact with the acting Major Domo. That worthy bowed upon hearing the news he carried, bid him partake of small refreshment while he waited, and went on personally to find the Lady ShaRhylla.

He knew where she'd be; he'd allowed one other visitor to rupture the brooding and aloof silence the halfling had maintained since their powers had so mysteriously vanished.

Arriving at the door to the place where she had sequestered herself, he made so bold as to knock. In for a credit... opening the door, he entered quickly and quietly, letting that door oil closed behind him.

The pair before him jerked their attention to him. He shot a meaningful glance toward Shayla before falling to his face before ShaRhylla. From that humble position he informed her of those who awaited her order, the fact that he so boldly opened up with such information in front of Shayla revealing his belief of her importance in the eyes of the Dark Lady pro temp...

Or perhaps quite the opposite.

"Yes-sss..." she hissed inwardly, her bi-colored eyes remaining clear and curious and pinned upon Shayla's sea-green pair.

"Perhaps there will be gain from hearing what feeble words they spout; there might even be krayt dragon pearls to be found among bantha poodoo.

"I shall attend to them accordingly."

With that she pulled her focus entirely back to the room, and cut the groveling Major Domo with it.

"Bring them," she snapped curtly, watching then as he gained his knees and scrabbled backward from her immediate presence. Coming to the door, he reached a hand behind himself blindly; the not-quite-halfling watched with dark amusement as it flailed about for a moment or two before finally coming in contact with the handle.

Moments later, he scrabbled backward through the slightly opened door, letting it close silently in his wake, prompting ShaRhylla to pin Shayla with the full force of her attention once again.

This time something old blood-dark slithered in the depths of her eyes.

"Well?" she asked abruptly, going back to their original line of conversation as though the Major Domo's interruption hadn't even happened at all. Gliding to the sideboard, she helped herself to another goblet of Sith brandy, once again not bothering to offer Shayla so much as a drop.

Once out of the city proper he put his long legs into their intended use, galloping away at a speed exceeding that of a tauntaun at full bore, pelting down the path until he came to the outskirts. At that far station, he finally halted, panting out his Mistress's orders to the Captain of the retaining group.

Momentarily lifted brows revealed the Captains surprise at the order he received, for he had been smugly certain that his men were to proceed straight to the dungeons. But his was not to wonder why; snapping to square-shouldered attention he returned to his men, leaping atop his tuk'ata even as he barked out the order to move.

Moments later the group was heading double-time toward the city, the crenallated top of the Great Temple looming in the distance ahead of them, giving each and every Sith fresh impetus to get to it as soon as physically possible.

"Yes," she then replied flatly, finally cocking a brow. "What other choice is there?"

“We have touched this one,” he sent. “There is fire, and a spirit free yet leadable. You are us in the realm of light, my dear. Give her reason to remember us, and who she is. Give her cause to doubt her own conviction, this greater good. Give her back unto the darkness.”

The ShaRhylla before her now was not the ShaRhylla who had been there moments before, at least, not exactly. In place of one who had been pleading with the gods of the Sith to return to her powers was now one who seemed certain. And it was almost as if...

"And yet life and death and survival of the fittest is yet the crux of it all," Shayla responded. "All that is seeks to survive, whether this fact is acknowledged or not."

"The All--" she breathed, letting her tongue linger a moment on the lip of her goblet before slowly lowering it. She shrugged again.

"It is of no concern to me who is blocked and who is not, and who may or may not find a means to regain its use."

She knew that whatever had happened more than likely went deeper than most thought, for if the current issue was a mere blockage of All use it would not have affected her as well. This wonderful power was inherent to her, born into her very cells, her being; she did not need to learn the balance others sought to maintain the pitiable touch they had with it. It came to her as naturally as breathing; thus she was quite confidant that when and if it returned to any other user, it would as a matter of course return to her.

She refrained from letting Shayla in on this little tidbit, however, and merely let her demeanor soften a shade.

"This natural state of being that you speak of, why--" She paused, thinking back to what small teachings she had gleaned from her mother when she was first brought here to the Great Temple of Warriors.

"Why, that is but one part of a greater whole. Greater things than you can dream of are... available to those brave enough, and determined enough, to embrace their source in its entirety."

She smiled again, letting the tips of her fangs peep slyly upon the fullness of her lips.

The double wooden doors leading into the Grand Foyer flew open beneath his touch; the vast chamber then echoed with the sounds of their marching feet as without stopping for a moment they continued on. Through the next set of doors, down the ensuing corridor, then down another, and yet another. Up and down stairways they marched, the group now jostling along shoulder to shoulder, hemmed in by the tight confines of the stone walls on either side of them. In the middle of the mass of Sith, Matt and Panthar were just as scrunched, mashed smack dab against the muscular flesh of their captors. In this uncomfortable manner they were force-marched into the very bowels of the temple, until at last the Captain flung up a fisted hand, bringing them to a halt.

He barked a few words; immediately all but his most trusted warriors then performed a rather impeded salute before turning in situ and heading back the way they had come from. The remainder boxed in their prisoners yet more tightly, and all proceeded even deeper into the belly of the Great Temple of the Warriors.

At length they came upon a door, somewhat non-prepossesing for its size, but gilt with precious metals, stones and fancy wooded inlays. Strange sigils bloomed amidst the otherwise blatant splendor of the doorway, sigils somehow dark and deep and foreboding.

The Captain barked to his men, who shoved Panthar and Matt rudely to their knees before gaining their own. Strong hands reached out to grasp the mens' necks, forcing their faces down toward the cold stones at their feet. When the Captain was assured that his men and their captives were arrayed in a properly humble disposition, he knocked upon the door.

ShaRhylla slitted her eyes, sent a brief spurt of thought into her other self--

This one is dallying about, playing games, is not deigning to speak with me. Perhaps you can offer a suggestion as how best I can persuade her into continuing the conversation...

--before flaring her nostrils with a dainty sniff.

"I have state affairs to attend to," she announced in her most haughty manner. "You-- I am finished with you now, at least for the moment."

Dismissing Shayla then, she went to the door and flung it open, much to the surprise of the kneeling warriors.

"Bring them in," she sniffed as she then whirled about and went back into her chambers. Chambers which weren't private ones per se, but ones, deeply hidden as they were, which best suited her for those times when she wished to...

Keep things private.

A dark smile coming nowhere near lightening her countenance, she settled herself gracefully upon a tapestried divan, and waited to see what the warriors had brought.

...and a portion of herself that perhaps she wasn't even aware of at that moment snorted in utter disgust.

She would not be used. Not again, not by anyone or anything, regardless of what it at least appeared was being offered. If the deal sounds to sweet, after all...

...it probably is.

She was about to say as much to ShaRhylla's departing back when the Sith gaurds entered, pulling along with them two captives, ones that Shayla immediately recognized as they were uncerimoniously herded into the chambers. Shayla's eyes slitted, and she quietly took a few steps closer to where they were being brought, trying not to bring to much attention to herself just yet...

He raised his cloudy eyes to the figure seated across the room from him and Matt. He blinked and tried to focus, then felt a strangely familiar sensation that emanated from that unfocused vision before him. It was definitely a female, dressed in fine robes. She was reclining gracefully upon a divan, and Panthar’s mind filled in the unfocused corners and saw what it wanted to see. In an instant, the blurred image became the form of Jharmeen.

“Dark Lady!” he exclaimed. “Oh, how I happy I am to see you! I had feared the worse when I heard of the current crisis, and came here with Matt as soon as we could to offer whatever aid we can.”

Panther wanted to say more, but was not sure if he should continue until Jharmeen had informed the guards that he and Matt were not wanted criminals. But for good measure, he thought it wise to make sure the guards knew that he was trusted individual to the Dark Lady.

“I had hoped you would be here, and, as always, pledge to help you and defend you from those who would do you harm.”

Like that nasty witch ShaRhylla,, thought Panther. But hey, if Jharmeen is here, then they must have dealt with ShaRhylla already. Oh, Phalomir would most likely be here as well. We have a lot to talk about and need to get underway.

“These guards seem to think we are someone else, however, and intercepted us on our way to the city. If you please, Dark Lady, could you straighten them out and allow us to serve you?”

And that was yet more of itself. Perhaps not yet accepted, not recognized for the power it could bring, for the self-satisfaction that was so terribly inherent in its being...

But there, nevertheless.

For in the otherness that was the Elseness, on a hidden Sith world called Korri'sian, when it had departed from the body of this man it had left a tendril of itself lurking behind.

How... lovely.

Eerie bi-colored eyes flicked to the hovering Shayla, a dark tendril whispered from her being as it sought to confirm what indeed it already knew.

That part of itself, so carefully planted within the body of this one, as well as in that of the one the yammering prisoner thought she actually was, had been completely eradicated.

Anger welled, burning in flash-fire intensity, back-drafting throughout her being until it was all she could do to keep her seat, to remain laying in gracefully sanguine deception upon her divan, to keep from ordering the instant execution of these frail pieces of flesh.

But, as being mere flesh, they could die but once. She herself knew better, knew the agonizing addiction of death in repetitive application... and so she refrained, narrowed her focus down to the simple reality before her and, turning back from the still-silent Shayla spoke to the misdirected man before her.

"Yess-ss-ss..." she purred as she settled herself more comfortable, indulging in another sip of brandy as with that motion she quite simply but ever-so-clearly displayed the wonders of hedonism that she and she alone would be absolutely more than willing to provide.

"This is acceptable, my friend."

A sly smile revealed gleaming, saliva-slicked fangs before they were hidden once more by the rim of her goblet. Let the others wonder in shock why she had appeared to comply so quickly and without any reason other than the man appeared to think she was her mother. That little tidbit bothered her not.

What was of importance was the fact that she/it/they still lurked in the depths of this man's being, and that was something that could indeed prove to be extremely useful.

Only acquiesed to and welcomed, before simply being experienced.

Eternity danced a fraction longer in that dark look, before her eyes flickered back to normal. She shrugged.

"They're not here," she said offhandedly, giving a little sniff.

"I don't know where they went, or if they're even going to bother coming back. Until they do--"

She leaned forward, letting her tongue grace the fullness of her bottom lip.

"He's lying," she said flatly, pointing in Matt's direction. "They know where your Mother and Phalomir are."

Falling silent for a moment, she then turned, her eyes falling coolly into the pain-filled ones of Panthar. "And he would do anything for the latter."

Perhaps... she thought toward her other part, that oily selfness which existed in the unguessable dimension that was termed Darker Realms, alerting it to pay attention even as she then turned her own back to Matt and Panthar, her features now appearing as nothing more than an utterly expressionless mask.

Drawing from these mental images into the moment, Shayla pinned Panthar with a steady and unreadable look. "Why do you trust him when it was you who was first used by him?" she queried softly, curiosly.

"Take a care," she hissed as she shot an ivory-clawed finger Shayla's way.

"You overstep your bounds!"

Her eyes remained riveted on the human female's pair for a few moments longer before she cut them back to Panthar and Matt.

"Well?" she asked coolly, settling herself once again, the very epitome of languid repose... save for the heat in her eyes, which were beginning to glower like twin volcanoes under imminent eruption.

Panthar rubbed his eyes, then focused. He had hoped, assumed, and thought he was speaking to Graysith, but it was in fact ShaRhylla. And Shayla…?

“I…” he began, not exactly knowing how to continue. But something within him wiggled a bit, as if reacting to that first morning light when sleep is broken and something – something – stretched.

“Phalomir and Jhar-- Graysith,” he blurted, “they were, um, supposed to…”

He grimaced as his insides turned, and he was sure something serious was suddenly wrong. Perhaps the injuries he had suffered were worse than he thought – but no…

Panthar’s vision went dark around the edges, but everything came into crystal clear focus. His head stirred deep inside, and a strong feeling of… power… washed over him. It was a familiar feeling, and one that was not totally unwelcome. Even though alarms flashed everywhere within him, he stood taller and felt – good.

“Phalomir and Graysith are irrelevant,” he said. “Now that I know you are here, and in command, what they have to say matters not.”

Said look she then quietly turned upon the human male being held captive before her. But from deep inside herself, something other reached out an icy black tendril, slithered between the ticking seconds which comprise the endless now, and touched its like/otherness that she so easily sensed coming to life within Panthar.

Welcome...

“If I may be so bold,” he said. “It is most refreshing to see such beauty in the royal house.”

Panthar took a step forward, suddenly uncaring of any guards that may be nearby, ready to spear him through for doing just what he did. The power rushing through him was incredible, and at this moment he felt nothing could harm him.

And a voice deep within him, roiling up and permeating his mind, sounded silently back,

Oh to be back in the Darker Realms, there to explore every nuance of vibrant life through the shuddery ecstasy of repeated death...

But that, for the time being, was impossible. So she merely blinked, masking the darkness, letting it seep back into hiding even as she leaned forward to address Panthar.

"You speak such pretty, pretty words," she purred.

"Perhaps you will answer my question of what it is you wish to say to my..."

She paused fractionally, her delicate nose wrinkling.

"Mother."

She let her eyes cut back for a moment to Matt who, still panting for breath, seemed to be trying to get himself back into some semblance of control once again.

"So far this simple question has gone without answer; you will never know what you might receive in reply until you speak," she prodded with surprising diplomacy for her.

“I came to see if they had returned from their travels,” said Panthar. “And to escort them back to meet with a representative of the Empire. But suspecting they would not be here, I rather had hoped to offer assistance to you.”

What did I just say?

Panthar shot a glance to Shayla.

“But I see you already have counsel,” he added curtly. “It is…

Good? Wonderful?

Interesting... to see you again, Shayla.”

ShaRhylla coughed delicately behind an even more delicately raised hand. But that hand hid only her smiling lips, and not her eyes...

...which cast a suddenly hard look upon Shayla.

"I have no counsel," she continued to speak to Panthar, her granite-like gaze never leaving Shayla, raking her up and down.

"And who are you, that I should accept this assistance?" she finally asked, settling back upon her divan once more, appearing to utterly ignore Shayla while in fact keeping her intuitive abilities trained upon the young woman with quivering accuracy.

He frowned, his green eyes clear and curious. He would have liked to think that maybe Panthar was somehow playing a part with Rhylla to keep them on her good side...

...and yet what does it offer one in return, truly?"

What AM I doing? he thought. I’m saying things without thinking, it’s as if someone else is planting things – or a little like that time I was…

Panthar’s face tightened with realization as he recalled the recent past when he had been infected with the black tar. At that time he was forced to do things he did not wish to do, to say things he would never had said. He was forced to take a back seat in his own mind, forced into blackness while something else controlled his actions.

But this was different. He felt that he did not have control, but yet he was fully aware of everything going on around him. It was really more remindful of the time he first came to these worlds, when he was still in his own body, still human… yet possessed by the spirit of Phalomir.

Yes, Phalomir. The strange ghost from another time – or so he said. That free-floating spirit who jumped out of a crystal and just helped himself to a body that wasn’t his. Then he got it destroyed! Oh, and let’s not forget his buddy Thoran, that other mysterious freak who hid inside me and caused me to end up in this monstrous body! What in the world was I thinking? Why am I so awfully fond of that Phalomir, and why in the bloody blue blazes do I keep sticking my neck out for him time and time and time again? WHAT HAS HE EVER DONE FOR ME?

Panthar, agitated and panting, but without saying a word, turned his head to Matt and nodded. He wasn’t sure if the thoughts were his own or induced by whatever it was inside of him, but he could not fight the rage that suddenly coursed through him.

"And just what is it you seem to think we need to save the galaxy from?" she asked, toying idly with a strand of her hair and looking for all the world like such matters concerned her not.

“Some people think the Vong are returning,” he said, respectfully. “But we have another threat, and that is the ever-expanding human Empire. If you believe the Vong theorists, then we should seek out the friendship of the humans. But if not, then they are the biggest threat to the galaxy.”

Panthar paused, collecting his thoughts and trying to organize them into something he could understand.

“Wait, no…” he started. “The Vong are…”

He shook his head, again trying to clear it. He finally grunted in frustration.

“Your mother,” he said, “and her man-dude-Sith-thing Phalomir, they believe the Vong are coming. You must know he claims to be from the future, and has been sent back to stop some horrible event involving the Vong. Well, being a historian, I can tell you with some certainty that he is a few years too late to stop the Vong, and as it turned out, we didn’t need him anyway. So why is he here? And how did he win over your mother so easily?”

Something told Panthar that ShaRhylla didn’t really care about any of this, but he wanted to hear her speak nonetheless.

To be reborn... to then truly live.

Thus it was no surprise that she had utterly dismissed the young woman's earlier query as being something not worthy of a reply. She twisted the strand of hair she had been toying with, then abruptly dropped it and made an imperious gesture toward Shayla, indicating that she go stand beside the strange Sith before her. When the young human female had obeyed, she settled against her cushions once more.

"This one also spoke of such things," she suddenly blurted, shooting a pearly claw toward Shayla. She held it there, an arrow of seeming accusation, then slowly let it drop.

"Perhaps there is some truth to this ridiculous suggestion. Perhaps they really are coming back."

As if she really, truly cared. For she knew fully well that they were as lethal a threat to the galaxy as was seemingly alluded by these two, deadliness which could only serve to further strengthen that Darkness within. That Darkness temporarily locked away, but never really gone.

That waiting Darkness, which lurked within the body of the Sith in front of her, but which currently could not do much more than whisper sweetly into her psyche.

She leaned forward.

"Who are you, both of you, that you come here with such offers of assistance? What or who do you know that would be helpful in any way?

"What is it that you can actually do to help? Take a care with how you answer, my patience is wearing thin."

Never one to enjoy diplomacy or the bandying about of mere words, she waited expectantly to hear how the pair would then reply...

Especially the female.

...and she knew exactly why. "Sounds like you feel you have this all figurd out," Shayla began, raising her eyebrows a bit, "But I know that the Master is stuck in the Darker Realms, and that he thinks he has Phalomir with him..."

She trailed, considering just what the Master was trying to do by taking Phalomir to the Darker Realms...

...and why the Darkness would want him in turn. Furthermore, she also realized what the Darkness was probably doing by taking over ShaRhylla, unaware as to the possible extent of that. "...now why would you want to share the Darkness with Lord Phalomir, for that is what the Master truly intends to do...

...and what he intends to do and in fact he has already done with a mere clone. You could destroy the true Phalomir before the Master realizes his error...

She seeks personal gain as one of the Three Ladies, and references that which she does not understand. Her ambition is admirable, but her information is false.

"What do you mean, clones?" she asked, forcing back the dark to let the sham of her former being emerge, making every effort to appear haughtily curious, wondering but demanding, as if the statement the young woman had just let fall was merely something to pique an interest in something extraordinary enough to yank her momentarily from her self-centeredness.

"What do you know of clones? And of... Lord Phalomir? Oh dear, this is dreadful, don't you think?"

She put her goblet down and clasped her hands, straightening against the cushions of the divan upon which she had been reclining, putting on a show of concern if only in response to hearing the title of the one whom Shayla had just named in her unexpected statement.

And what of you Shayla? You came here thinking that Rhylla would perhaps be convinced into helping you find Graysith. Now that this is unlikely, just what are you doing?

Shayla let her greeny-blue eyes fall unflinchingly into ShaRhylla's eerie bi-colored pair, reminded for a moment that she was Graysith's child...

How she longed to see her little Zackary become a young person as Rhylla now was, though unnaturally so...

But these thoughts brought with them a seemingly damning one as well. And here too, a child who perhaps had been lost...

Shayla let none of these thoughts show in her face, however. Instead her eyes grew implossibly darker. "You toy with me," she said under her breath. "Of Phalomir's clones I know quite a bit, for I have seen them. Who or what created them, I do not know, although I suspect the Master in that."

She paused then, suddenly smiling rather sweetly. "But then, with the blockage of powers, none of this matters...

...which is, perhaps, precisely the point."

Shayla quieted a final moment, recalling her encounter with the Vong villip, another piece falling into place into her mind. "Perhaps you had a valid point earlier. I do not believe there is anything further I can do here."

But it sat there on the fringes, and it led to other thoughts… memories… of why he was here? Of one of the things he sought…

“Shayla…” he blurted. “You were gone, weren’t you? Yes, yes, hou vanished, and took a ship, and we didn’t know where you went. Why -- ”

But that thought was halted in progress as a darker train of thought crept into his mind.

“Why would the Master create clones of his son? Phalomir told us that his father had made a deal with the Darker Realms. If his very soul depended on fulfilling his bargain, it makes little sense that he would try to betray his master.”

Panthar did indeed wonder this, but it seemed that his interest in the subject was a bit deeper than he at first realized. Certainly, Phalomir was his friend, but there were bigger things at hand than solving this mystery.

Yet somehow, for some unapparent reason, nothing else was as important as knowing the answer to this question.

"But, as daughter to the one you are seeking, where these clones are does matter to me," she said at length as she let herself settle back against the cushions of the divan once again.

"And, if I might ask, what is it that.. troubles you, that only Mother can understand?"

She bowed her head, reached out, dug a claw into the cloying blood, and annointed her forehead with it. Then she whirled about, wearing the sacrifice in awful parody of her Mother's glyph, reached out her arms to either side, and smiled.

"Clones, no clones," she began quietly. "Vong, no Vong. These things, at the moment, truly matter not, as they are but words spoken by the two of you."

She paused, cocking her head to one side in contemplation, pushing back the rising anger of her other selfness as it infused her being in an uprush of black oil.

"But-- Shayla has spoken of things which do concern me."

She pinned Shayla with a piercing look, her eyes digging deep into the sea-green pair before her.

"She has spoken of things which I know to be true."

By this, of course, she refeerred to the loss of her powers. A loss which was an abomination to her, for it was far more than a mere loss of power.

It was a part of herself that had simply been wrenched away... and she wanted it back.

Her bare arm flashed foward, the amulet upon it glittering darkly in promise of a future that Shayla, though striving to believe she understood, never really could.

Not yet.

ShaRhylla fisted her hand, a clawed finger pointing at Shayla, right between the clarity of her eyes.

"What you referred to earlier is acceptable," she said, now going back to something Shayla had said practically the moment she came into her presence. Something dark and noisome flickered about Panthar; she cut it away with a sharp motion of her other hand.

"Two may yet become Three.. if the third one can be saved from herself. In this, I will lend such assistance that I can, and in exchange for the assistance you offer me..."

She paused for a breath, her eyes flashing like lightning coming over a mountain.

"I can offer you the life of your son."

She knew what ShaRhylla offered could be done, she had seen it happen before. And what would a mother not do to save the life of her child?

And perhaps ShaRhylla had also tapped into something that Shayla wasn't even quite yet aware of herself, something lurking deep within her being. For, although she wasn't fully concious of it, she longed for the days when she was yet an Adept and Graysith was her teacher...

...and she was a Chosen sister. Never before in her life, despite how anyone else viewed it, had she really ever felt so complete. And at the moment, with her Force and meager All abilities blocked, she did feel incomplete.

At length, Shayla's greeny blue eyes cleared and she again met ShaRhylla's eerie bicolored eyes with her own, completely ignoring all others present, her eyes deepening in determination.

"In exchange for what you offer, and for the chance to reunite with your Mother...

Her glittering blade flashed in the dimness, slicing into that palm, releasing an upwelling gout of deep violet blood which oiled up from the wound. Before the blood could ooze over it to drip upon the stone, she reached over and grabbed Shayla's wrist again, now dragging her own hand over the stone and holding it there palm facing up.

The blade flashed yet again, slicing deeply but painlessly for the exquisite sharpness to which it had been honed.

ShaRhylla replace the dagger at her waist, now switching the bloodied hand by which she grasped Shayla's for the one that held the dagger. She gripped her tightly, turning Shayla's hand to an angle perpendicular to the plane of the stone top, and pressed her own wounded palm flat against that of the young woman's.

Rich blood, ruby red and the deep violet of garnets, mingled together, a minute bit of Shayla's entering into ShaRhylla's body...

...and a portion of ShaRhylla's likewise entering into Shayla's. The remainder at last oozed from the surface of their joined palms, to finally drip thickly down upon the altar.

It sizzled...

ShaRhylla bound her eyes to Shayla's as tightly as she held their palms together.

"By this blood covenant are we bound," she whispered, the words sliding out between her fangs like the miasma from hell. "To dishonor or break this holy vow we now hold together--"

Something darker than the shadows glittered in the depths of her eyes.

"--is upon pain of death."

She held Shayla's attention a moment longer, letting an entire universe of both possibilities and assurances pass between them. Then she let her hand drop, and stepped back a pace.

"And so it begins," she said smoothly as she wiped her bloodied hands casually upon her tunic. Turning then from the altar she regained her divan, this time standing beside it while she took up her goblet once again. Heading back to the sideboard she quickly refilled it, this time filling another which she held out to Shayla.

"So," she said lightly, her eyes dark.

When he accompanied his father on the long travels to distant planets, when the hours seemed like they stretched into days, he spent most of time curled up on blanket watching the good holo-vids. These were put out by people with an imaginative look on life, an artistic view of everything around them. Somewhat simplistic by his adult standards, but the stories and their elements seemed to always come into play in his real-life adult world. There was always a good guy and his struggle to start up or maintain something that was – well, good. There was the love interest, be it a person or a thing, that was in danger somehow. Then there was the bad guy, the one who wanted to possess or ruin what the good guy had. Sometime it turned around, where the bad guy had something and the good guy had to take it away to make it better for everyone

Simplistic, yes. But as he watched this vid play out before him, he realized that it was life imitating art once more. But it gave him pause to think about which kind of scenario this was. Was it the good guys who currently had something, and the bad guys were now conspiring to take it away? Or did the bad guys currently have something that the good guys were going to put an end to?

And which side was he on?

His thoughts seemed to be clearer now, suddenly. He knew he had been on the side of Phalomir, Graysith, and Aelvedaar. There was no question that they were the good guys, sitting in power and trying to make things better. Trying to save the Sith from attacks on all fronts. And here these two ladies – one of which he thought was a good guy – now conspired to remove them and take it all for themselves. Well, sort of. It seemed that Graysith was all right either way, but it in their way she denounces Phal and joins them.

Hmm.

Or were they right?

Once more the dark thoughts spread over his mind like a storm cloud on a sunny day. What if they were right? What if all this time, while he was helping Phalomir, he had been helping out the bad guys? What if Gray really had been coerced and brainwashed? After all, remember, Phal had a proven track record of hijacking minds.

He needed to know.

And there was something else within him, something strange and alien, yet familiar, that needed to know as well. By now Panthar had realized that something else was with him, perhaps the darkness that had possessed him before, perhaps something even more dreadful. With the things he had experienced as of late, who could be sure? But it was simply coexisting at this point, and that seemed to be all right. But it, too, needed to know exactly what was happening.

He stepped forward from the shadowed area that the ladies had left him in, and in a moment had lurked forward to the altar. His eyes were dark and set in a stare directly into ShaRhylla’s as she flicked hers to his approach. He realized he had no fear of her at this moment, and that the something within him was fueling this. He then turned his dark, roiling eyes to Shayla, who had remained silent after ShaRhylla’s question. Perhaps she was lost in sudden regret, or contemplation, but her silence would not answer his burning question.

“You have entered a dangerous pact,” he said calmly. “But you must now carry through.”

His concern for her still lived, and the dark other touted him, and amplified this.

“But as I have in the past, I will continue to be with you.”

“But,” he said, directing his statement to Shayla but flicking his eyes to ShaRhylla, “None of what you seek will come easily. There will be many more sacrifices.”

And I will not be one of them.

"The clones, excepting the one, are all on Kor'isan."

“Do you know, really?” he asked. “Do you truly understand what you have done?”

He did not let the question linger, however, for the something inside of him wanted more information. It was impatient, and very persuasive.

“No matter, what is done is done. What matters now is to move forward. And for that, you will have to be more open. I already knew where the clones were discovered, but that does us no good. Korris’ian is in the Elseness…”

A glint of reflected light flashed from the darkened eyes of ShaRhylla as she looked at him sharply. Panthar caught notice of this and turned his head to face her.

“Your mother, with the aid of Phalomir, Shayla, and Galen moved the planet into the Elseness to acquiesce That Which Is. That event seemed to trigger many other interesting things. That is where we first met the Master, and is when Phalomir became Dark Lord of the Armorers. It is also when Terrin, Galen’s husband, was brought back to life, which is of course the reason we had to move the whole damn planet into the Elseness to begin with.”

“Regardless,” he continued, turning once again to face Shayla. “It is impossible to now visit this location. Even if we could, the clones were destroyed by Phalomir. All save the one, of course. What we wish to know, Shayla, is where these clones came from, and who made them.”

Is that what he wanted to know? He didn’t think so, but that was the question that came forward. No, what he really wanted to know was what the hell was she thinking? And what she thought was going to happen to her and people that she once cared for.

And there was something else… something that made his skin crawl…

Abruptly she stopped, considering the words he was speaking to Shayla, knowing that what spoke to her wasn't quite all her other selfness, but was yet a far cry from Panthar's uniqueness. That sniveling kernel was hidden deeply within his body, encompassed by ribbons of oily black, and only enough of himself was allowed to leak out to make him yet appear, to others, to be Panthar Dantares.

Now it seemed there was something of a problem in the co-mingling of the two. Too much of Panthar appeared to be surfacing. She was about to open her self to him/it/herself in chatisement when she stopped. That was when the flick of a smile crossed her features, prompting her to raise a slim hand to hide it.

It will not matter what she knows, she thought to herself only. Nor his reaction to that which I love... and can therefore use. All will be as intended, and this woman will act as the Key... or the Pawn.

Either way, it has already begun.

She let her hand drop, her eyes cutting briefly to the wound which marred it, her face wearing its usual expression of haughty grandeur. All the while something within her dark soul, which indeed was her dark soul, giggled and chortled at the Great Foolie it was yet managing to perpetuate.

"I thought what we wanted to know is how we could help the people here with the loss of powers. I thought what we were doing was that and that alone, to then return to Khar Delba. You remember these things, Panthar?" he queried, turning to the man-turned-Sith with an arched eyebrow and letting the question linger for a long, strangely eerie moment.

Then, surprisingly, he turned to Shayla. "And I realize you just lost your kid, but Panthar is right about one thing, what you are doing is dangerous to us all. Aren't you at least a little alarmed at how quickly your word was taken to a Blood Oath?"

Her bi-colored eyes flashed to his form, outstanding amongst them despite his relatively diminutive height, and flashed further in a dark and extremely dangerous manner.

What to do with him, indeed? As well as these others...

She remained silent, letting her gaze pan across the group in its entirety, then letting it rush back to the bloodstained alter looming in the shadows. The purity of their blood would go a long way toward the hopeful appeasement of S'slan, who for whatever reason had deemed to deprive her of her dark strengths. But this human was another matter.

Quite another matter.

She blinked, returning her focus forward again, letting it fall upon him from beneath her lowering brows. Then she cocked her head, delicately chewing upon her lower lip, clearly exposing her equally delicate fangs as she did so. She leaned forward.

"I could bestow upon you a most marvelous gift," she whispered, the words falling like pearls of oil from her lips.

Indeed, this she could do. She could present him with the Ultimate Answer, the Pinnacle of Delight, that which no man believes he could ever desire, but which upon presentation chases away such foolish fears by the sheer wonder of its touch. And in that one tiny moment brings with it utter clarity, understanding, and arm-beckoning acceptance.

She should know. She'd felt its kiss many, many times...

"In exchange for your silence, this wondrous gift might be given..."

Her eyes flicked from Panthar to Shayla, and she nodded minutely in her direction. Within the blond woman's veins, that bit of cloying blood that originated from the halfling warmed, turned fiery, sending cascades of molten ice throughout her very being, bringing with it an odd memory of the exquisite delight that only the touch of death could bring.

After all, she had died once as well. Unlike ShaRhylla's rebirth at the hands of the Darkness, however, Shayla had been rebirthed--at Graysith's request--by That Which Is.

After a long moment of silence, Shayla cocked her head and regarded Matt with the most annoyingly inscrutable look on her face. The words she spoke then were anything but, however.

"He'll never be silent," she said darkly, "And perhaps he should not, at least not yet. After all, he was there on Degobah when That Which Is appeared and all powers were blocked."

She paused then, turning to ShaRhylla. "He may be of some use...

...but from deep within something dark and dismal reached out into that otherness which was herself, stretching out to the Dark Heart which beat in an awful parody of death within the graces of the Darker Realms.

"This will take time..."

Then she let her goblet fall unheeded to the floor, rising from the cushions to approach a bell-pull hanging back amidst the shadows. She reached out a delicate hand, and tugged upon it. Once.

Immediately the chamber was filled with warriors, who surrounded the entire group, some keeping their weapons aimed at their erstwhile guests, while their squad leader came to a respectful kneel before the halfling.

"Bury them all, deeply," she commanded, pointing to Matt and his Sith companions.

"But save those two; they are young and fresh."

Two hapless Sith were immediately quarantined off to one side, there to await their fate atop the blood-stained altar to their even bloodier god, S'slan, while the others were brusquely led away into the bowels of the Great Temple.

ShaRhylla watched their departure through slitted eyes, before turning back upon Shayla once again. She said not a word, but the look she bore down upon the young woman was somehow...

Disappointed.

Then, before Shayla could even begin to react to her, she pulled her dagger from her tunic. For a moment she merely held it in her hand, it's blade gleaming with quiet promise, before turning it about in one deft motion and offerring it to Shayla.

A part which yet sought to bring to light the darkness lurking within.

The look in Shayla's eyes deepened, and she reached out one hand, with an eerie sort of steadiness and calmness, to accept the blade from ShaRhylla. But as she turned to the young Sith, it was not them she was truly seeing. Her mind's eye shifted to a day on Degobah, in a grove of gnarltrees. In the center of the scene were those who had left her, denied her, and betrayed her...

...and quite suddenly she was finding herself having more than enough of it.

Her eyes snapping alert then, Shayla nodded ot one of the two young Sith, directing him to the altar. He complied although his eyes widened in fear. Shayla gripped the dagger in her hand, at first hesitating. But then her mind drifted back to the gnarltrees once more...

...and finally to the memory which had prompted her to come back here to begin with. For when she had been requested to perform much the same task by Graysith, she had failed.

Because she harbored love for one who would hold her back time and time again. And because she actually had cared about what everyone else had thought.

Enough. Enough.

As the daggar fell, one couldn't be certain if it was the helpless young Sith on the altar that Shayla was seeing...

...or something else entirely.

He stared at the blade, following it with his eyes, until it plunged deeply into the young Sith on the slab. He expected a scream, was ready to relish in it, but the Sith was true his god to the end. Shayla’s hands were sprayed by the violet blood, her sleeves becoming soaked. This made the darkness smile, but even this was not enough. There was no sound. No satisfaction.

Panthar was moved to action with this. He slipped behind Shayla and grabbed her bloodied hand. He then snapped his hand to the side, causing hers to move with it, twisting the blade. The Sith’s eyes widened, his devoted concentration on his own death broken, and he exhaled a painful scream with his dying breath. S’slan be damned, the darkness was appeased.

A dark smile spread across her features as she indicated the remaining Sith with a wave of one delicate hand.

As he laid himself on the altar obendiently, there was no hesitation as there was before, however. This time Shayla drove the dagger in directly to his heart, before he had even a moment to brace himself, twisting the sharp blade in mercilessly and somehow symbolically. The Sith cried in agonizing pain, all attempts to not do so totally eradicated.

Amazingly enough, the young Sith seemed to linger much longer than one might have thought, even as Shayla continued to read and tear and twist. At last, however, the Sith still and the screams ceased...

...and Shayla rounded on Panthar, her greeny blue eyes darkening to that of a sea in the midst of a hurricane.

I’m being used again, he thought. This hurts – I mean, not this, what’s another wound when I have so many anyway – but to have this happen, to have Shayla do this, this hurts. Dammit, what am I going to do?

Panthar looked at the hilt of the dagger protruding from his shoulder.

Well, the first thing is to get this dirty thing out of me and find some antibiotics.

He grabbed the dagger and yanked it out, doing it quickly to minimize the pain. Fresh violet blood poured from the wound and he steadied himself. He looked to Shayla, whose skin still burned red with anger. Then he realized that he did not fully understand what had just happened – something had made him grab the dagger in her hand, but that something was suddenly quiet. Appeased?

He took a shaky step towards Shayla, then another. She made no move, and soon he was standing before her. There was something different about her, this was obvious. But there was something different about him as well, and he was not entirely sure he liked it. But he remembered now that he had come here not only to find Gray and Phalomir, but in hope that Shayla was also here. And here she was.

He had to know what was happening. He had to know for certain if the darkness was still within him. There was one way to know for sure.

She took the blade from Panthar in a slow yet smooth motion, and stood unmoving for another moment.

"You want this?" asked in a dark, foreboding whisper, her question more of an observation than a anything else as she then took to blade and removed the blade from Panthar's abdomen to instead slash the sharp edge cleanly across the wrist of the hand which he had dared interrupt her first killing with.

Not moving any further then, she curiously awaited his reply...

“No matter what I do to please you,” he blurted, “you hurt me.”

He didn’t know why he said that – but it seemed right. Something – that dark thing – was inside of him, he knew it now. It only made sense. It was inside him, it knew his thoughts, it knew his feelings. Perhaps it knew them better than he did. He wanted to help Shayla, to make her happy.

No, you want her. Isn’t it that simple?

No, it isn’t that simple! Shut up in there!

You want her, you have always wanted her.

Leave her out of this. Maybe you’re in me and there’s nothing I can do about it, but I’ll fight you every step of the way and do whatever it takes to get you out of me –

I’ll make her hate you.

What?

She’ll hate you forever. I’ll do things, make you do things that she will hate you for. Like killing the idiot just now, she hates you for this already. You’ll be too strong for her to kill, but she will hate you.

Panthar hated being possessed. It seemed to happen so often now, it seemed he should be getting used to it. But there it was again, and he still hated it. So now the thing had made its presence known for sure, and it was already making threats. All right, sure, he could play along for now.

Smiling, she raised a new goblet to her lips and took a drink, watching to see how events played out with dark and glittering eyes.

Panthar hesitated, his eyes flicking to ShaRhylla, then back to Shayla.

Come on, what are you waiting for?

“I,” he began, then stopped. What did he want to help her with? He had come here for a reason, yes. To find someone… but who was it? No, not to find someone, but to help the Sith. Yes, that was it, he had come here to help the Sith. And there was someone with him… Matt? Yes, Matt! But Matt was gone, wasn’t he? Yes, of course, he had gone off to help in his own way. And now he, Panthar, was here to help in his own way. Finally, he could help. In his way, without weird powers or the mark of death or darkness, but just in his own, simple way.

“I want to help you obtain that which you most desire, and deserve,” he said calmly. “I want to help you reach that pinnacle of power. I want to help you restore life to this Sith race, this cold dismal part of space… to that hardening heart within you.”

How sweet, I think I’m going to vomit

But Panthar did not hear this last thought as it raced through the back of his mind. All seemed sound now, all seemed focused. He did not really feel like he had given in, for indeed it seemed so right.

But he did not feel soft, not like that bleeding heart Sith that once took control of his body. No, not like Phalomir. That lily-livered lover-boy was going to meet his doom following his heart’s desire. This was something different entirely.

“And to your son,” he added. “That is what I want to do.”

"Why?" she whispered, casting a quick glance Shayla's way before returning her eyes to Panthar. All the while, that within her which was part and parcel of that yet within Panthar chortled and chuckled, knowing the reply and damned well knowing where this all would lead.

She reached inward, that strange duality which characterized her being now splitting, as that which was herself before reached over to that which was herself now:

"Let me be me..."

((OOC: The latter being sent over to The Siege of a Soul in the "Jedi/Sith" forums, thank you.))

Yes, came the reply. Our link is dim, and until I can complete it you must act upon your own accord. You know what we are, you know what is imperative.

You feel the tendrils of darkness spreading within the being before you. But take care, it is prone to rebellion. You shall work mastery over it, I have no doubt. He shall be an agent unto us. I must concentrate on our link, do what you will.

Then a moment’s hesitation, followed by:
But find this clone -- and destroy it.

"This shall I most certainly do..." she crooned. Then she did move, not much, just the timiest of motions to betray a universal change: she blinked her eyes but once as that connection seemed to split, one part of it coiling away into otherness while the other merely wrapped itself about her soul and squeezed.

When her eyes opened after that single blink it was to reveal a new yet extremely familiar aura of haughtiness dancing in their liquid depths.

Oh right, ‘why?’

Well, hmm, that was a good question. He knew the answer, but what was the right thing t answer?

Tell her you want to live happily ever after, or you want to marry into royalty.

She thought of all that Panthar had said.

She thought of Shayla, her change, her first tentative steps taken down a road from which there was no turning back.

She thought of her meeting, seeming eons ago, with Phalomir, and the hackle-raising words he had the effrontery to speak to her.

She thought of her Mother, what she had done and how she had acted toward her during their time together in the Temple... which of course was all ShaRhylla truly had to go by in assessment of her.

And she thought of her time with Rykounagin.

She blinked; the warriors had rejected the Triad, but perhaps it wasn't just the fact of having one, but that triad in particular...

A slow smile crept across her face.

"And so you shall," she whispered, now taking a step forward to first run one finger gently down the plane of Panthar's left cheek before suddenly digging in with one claw, ripping into his flesh, twisting and turning until upon his face she had inscribed the Sith rune meaning her name.

"But betray me not, or you shall die," she finished, stepping back and scowling at the inner images of Rykounagin which yet lingered in her mind's eye.

She then considered the pair before her.

"There are those who will impede our progress, those who must be eliminated," she then said in quite the matter-of-fact voice. "These we must find off-world to properly take care of them; it would not benefit us to hasten their departure from this earthly realm in the presence of my people."

She stopped a moment.

"Of our people," she amended, then continued.

"We shall leave this place; I'm bored here at any rate, and that silly sot of a Major Domo can attend to the people while I am gone. You--"

She pointed at Shayla.

"--shall pilot us in the ship by which you have come here; and you--"

Now she thrust a finger in Panthar's face.

"--shall be our physical strength, until those of our own return. But they shall return, for you have said you know how to do this; isn't that correct, Shayla?"

She turned an ominous look upon the young human before going to a bell-pull and summoning a servant. This groveling worthy was directed to attend to the provisioning of their needs, from food to clothing to personal weaponry.

She squinted her eyes, thinking hard. Then--

"And my mother's short dagger, the Tooth of S'slan; wait, that I shall take myself. But from the armory make certain the Edge of S'slan is among my personal effects, as well as the sword--"

She paused, thinking of the sword hanging over the thrones in the Great Reception Hall. It had remained quiet for another seeming eternity; she frowned a moment, debating whether it would be boon or bane, should it decide to finally speak. She finally decided upon the latter, and waved the servant on to his duties, sans order to take down that mysterious weapon.

She then turned to the others.

"My directions shall be carried out swiftly; Shayla, you shall now lead us to your ship. I shall claim the Tooth on our way out of this place."

"My ship is berthed in the spaceport," she indicated as they began to depart the room where they had been. As they did so, ShaRhylla took the lead, no doubt headed to the place where she could get the Tooth of S'slan. Moving along, Shayla remained silent, her mind still lingering on the growing darkness within as she considered Panthar's explanation for why he was there.

After a short while, she turned to a nearby wardrobe to find attire fitting for the journey ahead. After some searching, she found and put on a black, sleeveless tunic with close-fitting, black pants with satiny purple stripes on each side, clearly meant for exercise. Seeking further, she also found a flowing, hoaded black cloak. The inside lining, however, was made of a satiny deep purple fabric much like that on the sides of the pants. She finished clothing by affixing a belt-meant to hold weapons-to the pants and putting on some soft, black boots. After combing through her now shoulder-length dark blonde hair, she took a brief glance at herself in the mirror...

...and turned to three objects of keen interest to her in the center of the room, objects which had lead to her donning the belt she had chosen: A blaster,no doubt confiscated at one time or another from one person or another by the Sith; A short dagger, and a cleanly-polished sword with a blade just the appropriate length to match Shayla's smaller size. The blaster, she affixed to one side of the belt, and the dagger she placed in one boot against her ankle, in the case that she might need a hidden weapon.

The blade, however, she rose to further inspect for a moment, her eyes going a bit dark as she made a few practice moves with it, getting the feel of such a weapon back easily, for she had, after all, been trained in the use of a lightsaber.

In time you will have no need of such...toys, came reminder of Graysith's dark yet deeply meaningful words.

Indeed, Shayla thought, her eyes darkening further, That is how it should be.

Finally placing the blade in her belt on the opposite side of the blaster, Shayla rejoined ShaRhylla and Panthar. In no time they took the Sith transport back to Char'lingua where she had birthed the Preon. Leading them inside and indicating that they should get seated and strapped in, Shayla began attending the task of warming the ship and pulling up navigational information for their trip to Endor while the ship was loaded with the final provisions ShaRhylla had requested.

Remaining upon her feet, she sniffed.

"It shall do, although a Sith fighter can be acquired. But that ship would be smaller; I desire room enough for my own personal use."

With those words and a haughty toss of her head, she proceeded by demeanor alone to make Shayla's ship into one entirely her own. And the look in her eye consciously dared anyone to say her nay.

But that did not matter. Now he was going prove himself worthy of respect, and take control of this strange life into which he had been dropped.

He watched Shayla as she took the pilot seat and expertly worked the controls in preparation for departure. She looked truly beautiful and in charge, and he could not pull his eyes away. He continued to watch even as his gaze became a physical weight on he shoulder and she paused and glanced back at him. Their eyes locked for a moment, then he widened his grin and walked back to take a seat.

The rune on his cheek throbbed, but the other wounds he had suffered over the past few long days seemed to be healing quickly. In fact, he never had felt stronger since entering this particular body. He ran his hand across his chest and felt the powerful muscles there, then flexed his biceps. These arms had crushed stone, pounded away at castle walls, and had snapped imps in half. Now Panthar looked forward to doing this again, but to Phalomir.

He shot a glance at ShaRhylla, also beautiful but in a much more sinister way. Something about her took his imagination and he could not help but let the corner of his mouth creep upward.

“I am not fully aware of the meaning of this mark,” he said, calling forward to Shayla. He then stood and moved to the seat next to her. “Do you know the meaning? The true meaning of it?”

"I do not know the meaning of the rune," she said flatly. "And as for the meaning behind my words..."

She trailed, her eyes darkening as shadows of a memory not all that long past danced in her mind's eye, "It is merely an observation of something you would not understand."

But this time the images were second in his mind, for things did somehow not feel right. Perhaps it was only that annoying voice that tried to be heard, demanding that he stop this nonsense and run screaming as far away from ShaRhylla as he possibly could… But that voice was easily squelched and the task at hand remained clear.

But what Shayla had said still concerned him.

Trailing, Shayla realized something, suddenly understanding that it was perhaps far more than just that. Her eyes darkened and defocused. "Two already have."

Falling silent once more, a long moment of heavy silence followed. "Nothing can stop what must be done, nothing and no one. Are you really prepared to do anything you must...

... anything, to accomplish what lies ahead?"

Her eyes locked with Panthar's once more, something very dark swimming in their depths. "If indeed you truly understand what that really is."

But instead his hand reached out under her chin and grasped it gently. He wasn't sure where that command came from, but before he could withdraw it, or bring it down to her throat, he found himself saying words.

"I understand more than you know," he said, stroking the soft skin of Shayla's cheek with his long thumb. "Long have I wished to be close to you, Shayla, and betrayal is not something I could ever..."

Wait, what? What was that?

Panthar blinked, and he was back in control of his voice. He cast a menacing thought down at the strange little thing in his mind and then turned his attention back to Shayla.

Wait, what? That’s not what I meant to say…

“But you sit there in silence? Is there nothing you wish to know of me? Nothing at all? Do you think so little of me to ignore my reaching out, the bearing of my soul?”

Panthar stood and turned towards the rear of the ship. He was angry, and he wasn’t sure why. But he was also hurt.

“Bah,” he muttered. He spun around again and stepped forward, close to Shayla. He presed his face close to hers, his eyes wide with anger.

"There is something inside me, small and weak and leftover from a time before my enlightenment. I hate it, it causes me nothing but headaches and distraction. But it is in love with you, and there is nothing I can do about that. There, it is on the table, now let us work together and move things along. No secrets!"

...so Shayla softened, if only ever-so-slightly. "Secrets?" she queried softly, her voice deepening. "I keep no secrets. My only desires are to be reunited with Graysith and assist the Sith in their rise to power."

And become a part of it, came an instinctual and now unsurprising addendum.

Leaning back, the smile on Panthar’s face grew wider as he folded his arms together and regarded Shayla.

“Very well,” he said, returning to his business-like demeanor. “Phalomir is confused, unsure of his past and fearful of his future. He is weak. He spends all of his energy in his love for the Sith, and for the love of Graysith. Oh yes, that’s real, I am sure of it. But it is a folly. He will be easy to control, and easier still to destroy.”

Phalomir let another smile rise as he thought of the many ways he could lure Phalomir to his doom. Soon.

As is everybody else, a little voice whispered. And as are you, it continued.

Panthar smiled a bit, reflecting. Then he turned his smile back to Shayla.

But it did concern him just how easily that leftover remnant worked its way to the top a few moments before. What if he lost concentration… no, this was not even a possibility. It was buried.

He glanced at Shayla once again, wondering what thoughts were running through her mind as she sat silently. Surely the controls were now set, the ship on auto pilot, but she hovered her hand over buttons as if she were intent upon steering a complex course. Indeed, what possible course of dreams, visions, or schemes were playing out inside of her?

Indeed, what about her past? Her future? Hell, what about her present? What had happened to Erik? Actually, did he really care?

He shrugged his shoulders ever so slightly and turned his attention to the view port. The stars streaked by in their strange way as the ship hurtled through hyperspace –

When had they entered hyperspace? He shrugged again and sat back. Panthar was not sure just how much time had passed as he sat staring at Shayla, but now his eyes were caught again by the streaking stars.

After more moments had passed, he turned again to Shayla.

“So, was that enough, or do you have more questions?”

...and was drawn to consider the lie concerning Phalomir's heritage. How was it exactly that they had come to information concerning this Trelanicius that appeared to not to exist at all? And how did the Master play into all of this?

Shayla's greeny blues deepened in thought for a moment, then snapped alert as she then turned away from the controls entirely, finally leaving the navboard to do its own work as she then stood.

"We are enroute and have no further need to linger here," she then said, at first seeming to ignore Panthar's question entirely. "I am headed for the galley."

Pausing then, she let her greeny-blue eyes rest in those of Panthar's as she considered him...

...and considered something he might know that she yet did not.

"I would like to know more of this Trelanicius...

...and of the Master."

She quieted one final time, allowing her distate in speaking that name to show clearly.

Master? Master of just what or who exactly...? Pffft. "He is a great threat to us," she said darkly.

Shayla then allowed her features to soften as she then motioned aft towards the galley. "Come, tell me of what you know."

“The Master is an odd one,” he said. “He made a deal, long long ago, sort of, with the Great One himself. He was given the opportunity to become greater, to be a ruler of this realm. He even bargained with his own son, it was so important. He lost his sense of his mortality that day, and saw himself as the rightful ruler of all. He called himself The Master from then on, and nobody has ever contradicted him.”

They neared the door tot the galley and Panthar paused for a moment. He caught a scent in the air, the fresh aroma of ShaRhylla as she finished her cleansing. His senses were growing stronger, he could tell. This would be useful when he found Phalomir.

“But the joke was on him,” he continued. “It was Phalomir they wanted, not the Master. If only he could have seen that coming. By now the Master is dead and will trouble us no more.”

Panthar sat one of the small chairs, made smaller by his large size.

“Trelanicus, though, that is a real mystery. I was indeed investigating a small, desolate world. There were clues of its existence in some extremely old text I had discovered. With those clues, I located the planet and I found a cave that held treasures beyond imagination.”

Panthar smiled slightly, his eyes defocusing.

"When I first began to understand use of the All, Graysith took me to this place to learn of it in solitude, and I always assumed it was somewhere on the Sith worlds. But this place was full of machines and such that responded to All use."

She quieted a moment, pursing her lips, completely leaving out the reasons Graysith had taken her there. "I wonder if this is the same place you are talking about...

...because if it is, Graysith knows the location."

Panthar heard the shuffle of feet somewhere in the ship, and he knew ShaRhylla was moving. He lowered his voice.

“But do you really think Graysith will stand in the way? Has she become so weakened by Phalomir that she can not be saved?”

"Graysith is not the one to be worried about," she said evenly. "But consider this: if the All can be controlled by the machines in this place, who is to say that someone is not already there manipulating them, blocking us from using the All?"

She quieted, her eyes defocusing as she considered her theory in silence.

"And what is it you two are scheming in my absence?"

“Plotting your death and destruction, of course,” he said flatly. “Isn’t that what you would expect?”

He sat and placed his hands on the table in front of him, leaning forward slightly.

“Actually, aside from marveling in your beauty,” he continued, “we were discussing the need for Phalomir to die, and the potential problems that may arise if his powers were restored. And, also, the possible disposition of your mother.”

"The former statements serve no useful purpose," she asserted as she moved on to where Shayla was sitting, still sipping on her caf. "And the latter-- consists of words spoken merely to fill empty space."

For a brief moment she quieted, her eyes slitting like those of a great cat assessing potential prey. In that brief moment, something within her which had allowed herself to be yet again, reached out to gain the tiniest fraction of control. The motion almost a blur, her hand whipped out and knocked the cup of caf flying.

"Such frivolities are unwelcomed, for they allow one to sink into temporary relaxation.

"And relaxation is weakness personified."

She stood a moment longer, hands on her hips, then spoke up again. While her words were clearly meant for both, she yet kept her focus on the seated young woman.

"Phalomir? In the absence of his powers he is but a warrior; my Father trained me well in their tactics. I don't think he will offer us much of a problem..."

Now her head cocked Panthar's way, her eyes slitting further as she considered him.

"I could teach you some of the Warrior Ways; you are certainly large enough to utilize them to their fullest capabilities."

She let time flow briefly between them all, letting her words be fully assimilated before continuing on, now pacing the confines of the galley, snorting at this appliance here, that bit of color there. Coming to the edge of the counter upon which the caf-maker sat, she whirled about to face them both, her hands gripping the edge now jutting into her back.

"As for my mother, why...

"We kill her, of course. Or rather, one of you will accomplish this, to further cement your loyalty to me.

"I will let you know which of you shall carry this assignment, when the time is right."

The look she bestowed upon them both dared either one to so much as peep a word in defiance of this harsh demand.

Or at least, she didn't address it directly. "We were discussing a place your mother called "the Heart of the All," a place which appears to have machines and mechanisms which control it."

Pausing then, Shayla brushed off her lap. "As far as I know only two are aware of its location: Lord Phalomir and your Mother. I was taken there, but do not know the location myself. And, having seen with my own eyes that the machines there respond to one's use of the All, I believe ti may be at the center of our mysterious loss of powers."

"I don't think so," she retorted, giving her head another toss as she turned around to the coffee-maker, still sitting innocuously on the counter. One slender, clawed finger reached out delicately to toy with it as she considered further what to say. Having been born to the All as she was, she knew that the means of its disappearance was more than something merely mechanical. That might block those who had to struggle to use it, but not someone to whom its strength came naturally.

Whether the two understood this small but important difference, she couldn't say. And at the moment, she really didn't know if she wanted them privy to this knowledge.

However, the fact of this unknown city's existence intrigued her, peaked her interest in an entirely selfish way.

Once the All returned to her, it would mean that others could use it again as well. But if its use did indeed depend on the mysterious devices spoken of by Shayla, then there was a means to prevent anybody from using its wonderful strength ever again.

Except for anyone born into it, of course... which as far as she knew meant only herself.

A sly little smile crept over her features, only to be hushed into silence by that inner darkness within. When she turned round to face the others again there wasn't even the tiniest trace to indicate it had ever been there at all.

Take a care!

She paused fractionally, then smiled.

"And how do you propose we do this thing?" she replied in a deathly purr. "While those we detest do not have their powers, they are physically more powerful then we. At least I believe them to be thus."

The eye she adhered to Panthar's frame now roved up and down it appraisingly.

"You may have the strength to handily dispatch Lord Aelvedaar, if we can somehow catch him alone and away from his minions. But Lord Phalomir is powerful; he may be more than a match for us. And as for mother..."

Another pause while something drear flashed behind her eyes.

"Don't you think she will hate us for killing her namby-pamby love? Do you truly think it wise to destroy Lord Phalomir, without likewise destroying her? I believe this would be an easy thing to accomplish; without the All, she is merely a human female, and one not raised in the ways of the warrior."

She flicked her gaze to Shayla, who sat glowering amidst her spilled coffee.

“I believe Graysith may be worth saving,” he said simply. “Lord Aelvedaar is as good as gone, as far as I am concerned. And it is true that Phalomir is fairly handy with the warrior arts – he was raised in the traditions of all three clans, so he says – but I know his greatest weakness. It brought him to his knees before, and it will most certainly do it again. And the irony of it is most amusing, for it is Graysith herself – or rather, Jharmeen – that can send him off his guard. He cares too much for her, I have first-hand accounting of that. He would give himself to save her, or fall into despair over losing her. I can’t even count how many times he actually did lose her, and he still goes through the same fit each time.”

Panthar then drew his hands up and held them behind his head, while in the same motion his feet propped themselves onto the edge of the table and he leaned back in his seat. He allowed his arms to tighten and the muscles adorning his massive arms contracted into a most impressive display. His smile broadened.

"That Lord Phalomir trusts you, I mean; this can be used to our advantage. It will make it all the easier for you to dispatch him."

She nodded in a satisfied manner, letting the tips of her fangs peep out as the thought of a dying Dark Lord Phalomir rose up in front of her. Truth be known, it wasn't so much that she felt him a powerful adversary who needed to be gotten out of the way...

It just stung yet for the manner in which he had treated her. And for that, and that alone, she would have his head on a plate.

"But as for Mother... I think you're wrong. You said we should destroy everyone who could conceivably use the All against us--"

Here she shot an almost imperceptible sidelongs glance Shayla's way, appraising her yet again. True, the young woman did make sacrifice to S'slan, but it had been Sith blood she had spilled. Even ShaRhylla recognized the call of like blood to like blood; would Shayla's arm have been as unerring if that sacrifice had been human?

Time would certainly tell, oh yes indeedy. She had plans...

She let her gaze slide back to Panthar again.

"Remember, Mother was adept in its use," she went on. "She killed my father's true mate, the Lady Kreesha, who was Sith, and that is not an easy feat. I doubt she could have done it without the All; she will never join with us if we slay Lord Phalomir, you know, but would probably use the All against us.

"I say we rid ourselves of her as well, before it is restored to her, and seek out this place of great machines to possibly prevent it ever being used by anyone."

Something dark flashed deep within her dilating pupils.

"Even me; I have means enough to take care of myself without it, if need be," she purred, knowing that once whatever had halted the All in its tracks was eliminated, she would have it back again, machines or no machines. And even if she didn't, something lurking within every fiber of her being promised that what she so offhandedly threw out was, indeed, very much true.

"If the place has not been destroyed already,' she said instead in response to ShaRhylla's final statements. "That Which Is has been known to destroy machines which manipulate the All before."

She paused then, something flashing briefly in the depths of her eyes as another thought surfaced. "At any rate, something or someone is able to block more than just something controlled by a machine, but also our inborn abilities...

...which is anything but the natural order of things That Which Is speaks so boldly about."

“A good point!” he exclaimed. “However, in one case she was killed only in spirit – literally. Thoran had stolen her spirit away and ferried her to the Master. It was good ol’ Phally that led the charge, with you I might add, in getting her put back together. I’m not sure about the other time you speak of, but I’m sure it had something to do with a band of faithful friends going to the Darker Realms. Well, that certainly won’t be happening again, and Phal will most certainly be out of the picture. So, the odds of a third resurrection are very very slim.”

Panthar chuckled once more and then drew a more serious breath.

“But That Which Is will most certainly always remain a concern. It just makes no sense to me that the All, the Force, Sith magic, all of it is just… gone. I think something is simply blocking it, not allowing the connections between the forces and those who are sensitive to them to fire.”

"That which you call the Darker Realms," she began in a darkly lethal purr. "It-- it is with me, is always with me."

She didn't bother trying to explain herself; knowing that since what dwelt within Panthar was part and parcel to herself, it truly wasn't necessary. As for her newest comrade...

One day, I promise you Shayla, you too shall feel the sweet sting of death, the dark joy it brings, the pain of renewed life, the continuous cycle, over and over and over.

Her jaws clenched, rippling the muscles on the side of her face. Quickly, she looked down, letting her curls hide her face for a moment before looking up at the others again.

"As for the other, well... I cannot touch it now," she admitted sullenly, fisting her hands as she fought to push down a sudden flood of anger so dense, so overwhelming that it made her want to rush at either of the other two, it mattered not who, claws raised, fangs bared, wanting to rip the life from either of them in recompense for what she deemed to be the grievous act dealt to her by... she knew not what.

“I too feel the Realms,” he said. “But I sense that the connection to it with you is stronger. I long for that, and yearn to again open the doors to the home lands. But my feelings stand firm, that the connection to such things as the Realm, and the All, is merely blocked. Thus, when Phalomir is dead, and Graysith is in our possession, we will use her to find the secrets of…”

Panthar paused, something else popping into his mind.

"I would not trust Phalomir, regardless of whether he could be tricked or not," Shayla said flatly, realizing that her reasons for not trusting him stemmed from the same ones that were disturbing her now.

"This place you speak of, and this Trelanicus, there must be a record of it and him somewhere within the Sith libraries whether the Revealer is working or not. No one is even sure if Trelanicus exists at all, and no one has researched it either," she observed. "Because of all of these discrepancies and because of who and what he is, we should be trusting Phalomir even less than we could trust Graysith, who has placed the Sith race above all else. And as for Graysith..."

She paused, looking at ShaRhylla directly and not flinching, "Certainly we could kill her on the spot and protect ourselves from the potential of her using the All against us...

"... or we could use her knowledge of the place I spoke of and enlighten her to the danger of trusting Phalomir before the All is restored to anyone, as we discussed back on K'eel Doba. If she does not come to realize this, well...

...then that will be the time to kill her. But until then, why destroy the one person who may be able to lead us somewhere that we could control use of the All by others...

...and may be come a powerful ally as well?"

Shayla paused, casting a dark look ShaRhylla's way. "Unless of course you are afraid you are not strong enough to defeat her yourself should that time come."

Either way, Shayla was right and even ShaRhylla could not deny it. Not really.

“Graysith would indeed be a powerful ally,” he said. “Of course, that reduces me to the fourth wheel on a three wheeled cart, but I suppose a life of serving the three most enchanting beings in the galaxy would not be all that bad. I’m more than just good looks and muscle.”

His eyes danced in the dim ship light as his eyebrows waggled once with a life of their own.

“Much more.”

His smile quickly faded, though, as the business at hand came back around.

“But if we do wish to visit this ancient lab, it should be somewhat easy to find. We have both been there, Shayla, and if I remember correctly we flew back in a ship that was stored there. It should have the coordinates, even if we do not remember where exactly we were. I do know it was colder than a sorceror’s teat, being on the northern band of that damn planet.”

Another smile crossed his lips as paused and viewed the still tense air between the two women.

“But not nearly as cold as the air in this room,” he quipped. “What say you then, should we have a group hug and go kill a big red imposter?”

They both wish her to remain alive... I do not, the dark thought slunk through her head as she eyeballed the two. An even darker niggle belly-crept stealthily within, cautioning her to be wary as she considered further what she should do.

Take a care... was all it whispered.

Her eyes narrowed slightly as from somewhere precautionary wisdom reared its head, bidding her to wonder if that same darkness was paralleling itself in Panthar, making his words but a sham for Shayla's sake. After all, the erstwhile Chosen Sister had yet to truly prove herself to them, to her.

Her eyes slid back to Shayla and rested there.

"Oh, very well," she humphed again, giving her head another toss.

"If this is the concensus between you two, then I can scarcely stand against it."

At least, not yet.

"Mother's death can wait until we have gotten from her that which we need. But as for Lord Phalomir, who so cockily presumes to ordain himself a Dark Lord to the people, well--"

Her lips curled in a grin of genuine delight.

"We can practice with him what we shall later deal to mother. Then we three will teach our people how to live in a manner more enlightening to them, don't you think?"

Again, of this she really cared not one whit. All that concerned her was the retrieval of her powers, and the elimination of those standing in her way. And somewhere deep inside, that silky darkness within smiled to see this...

All the better to send millions of souls to those who would feed upon them, those who would then grow stronger for the feeding, and allow the Game to take a great leap in an entirely new direction.

ShaRhylla smiled sweetly, and let her fangs show.

"So, where do we go to find this so-called imposter?" she asked as she draped herself back against the counter again, one slender finger reaching up to toy with a tendril of her fiery hair.

...finding the one with the coordinates could take quite some time."

She paused then, remembering that trip to the hidden lair in suddenly esquisite detail...

...and remembering just how Phalomir had acted. He had somehow blocked her from acting on Tarnus's ship, had managed to get himself, Thoran, and Panthar out of one body into three, and had gone galavanting off after Thoran despite other pressing concerns...

...ones that, in Shayla's estimation, were far more important.

She shook herself from these thoughts. "But then, maybe there is a way we can extract the coordinates from Phalomir, who took us there to begin with. Of course," she then added, her eyes locking onto Panthar, "You were in the same body with him at the time. Perhaps you know the coordinates without us having to trouble ourselves with the likes of Phalomir."

Panthar paused, his eyes defocusing for a moment

“It is quite the horrible experience to see from your own eyes and not be in charge of your actions.”

Panthar snapped back to attention. He wasn’t quite sure why he said that, except perhaps to add to the dramatic effect. It was the sort of thing the whimpering real personality of Panthar would say, and sweetly ironic it was.

"I don't recall him having a commlink," Shayla responded honestly, "but if he did we should be able use that. "But if he did have a commlink and has been stranded on Endor, don't you think he would have used it by now?"

She shook her head. "I think you are mistaken. And just how precisely do you think you will be able to get him to tell you those coordinates? Unless, of course, you are proposing that we come in playing the role of friend and rescuer," she ended, scowling darkly at the thought...

"This is agreeable to me," she stated simply, turning then to Shayla.

"Continue on to Endor then, and let us hope that the Imposter Dark Lord is there, as you believe him to be."

A sweet smile curled falsely about her lips.

"I cannot imagine where else he might be, actually, and since he has not returned with Mother to K'eel Doba, why, he must certainly yet be somewhere searching for her, somewhere familiar to you. You state it is Endor; I shall take you at your word."

She paused a moment then, her eyes flashing a promise of what might conceivably happen to Shayla should the young woman be wrong. Then the sinister smile on her face faded.

"Will we be able to find him there?" she asked, curiously at a loss. "Inhabited or not, it is a large planet after all."

"This is the Eagle requesting information regarding the whereabouts of Lt. General Sorben Tarnus, whose last known destination is your world, where some believe he may have become captive. Is he being held as speculated?"

Shayla paused, sighing. "The ship should be able to give us a descent readout of the kinds of lifesigns in range of our scopes when we arrive. I do not believe Phalomir has a comm as Panthar suggests, though," she said, her eyes darkening once more. "If only I had connection to the Force, I could at least sense there proximity to us."

The halfling gave her head an imperious toss.

"If the sensors of this craft can pick up various lifesigns within it's range, and if it can figure out what is what, why..."

She blinked and smiled again.

"Why, then we must travel round and round and round Endor, until the sensors pick up the lifesigns of those we are seeking."

That the celery-eyed Major-Domo left brusquely in charge was not a happy camper was something of an understatement. Not that he minded being left in charge; oh no. True to the dictates of the Warrior Caste in general, he viewed this as a means to an end, a most glorious end indeed. Visions of a happier future floated in his head, visions of he and his family risen in status and perhaps even allowed to live in the Great Temple of the Warriors -- all of them, of course, as he did have his own tiny quarters.

But those visions were abruptly squashed when the news came to his ears that not one, but two -- TWO! -- of the several prisoners held in captivity had somehow managed to escape from the previously believed to be inescapeable dungeons.

And of COURSE one was the human to whom this unexpected request referred.

He dithered, drumming his elegant fingers along one crossed arm while he waited for results of the latest of myriad sweeps of the Temple. So far nothing had turned up, nothing at all, not so much as a peep of anything.

They had to have had assistance! he fumed to himself as yet another warrior, stiffly at attention, reported the umpteenth failure in turning up the missing prisoners.

It is impossible to escape our dungeons; not even our magicks can give a prisoner the ability to do so!

If they had their magicks, that is. The fact that they had disappeared as well, and remained gone for so lengthy a time bothered him no end.

Perhaps there was a connection?

His drumming fingers picked up their pace.

Perhaps there is a connection! Perhaps those who are calling now are doing so to see if their own magicks worked, and if the release of their companion had been successful! That power of some sort was in play was evident by the simple fact that they had sent a broadcast capable of being picked up by Sith receivers. Immediate scans of immediate space showed no untoward vessels anywhere near K'eel Doba.

If this latter was indeed the case--

He sighed, dithering further, truly stuck between a rock and a hard place. On the one hand, if his suspicions were correct, denying that Tarnus had ever been a prisoner was certain to bring down the wrath of the strangers. Strangers who obviously did possess magick, and were more than likely more powerful than his own race. He assumed the caller to be human, and wondered where in all of S'slan's creation they ever managed get such magick. Then he bit his own mental tongue; did he dare allow himself the luxury of assuming the caller to even be human? He might be lying. He might not even be a he!

But if he admitted that yes, Tarnus was here-- er, that is, he had been, why, wouldn't that bring down judgment upon K'eel Doba in a manner too harsh to even conceive?

He dithered, while underlings manning communications waited patiently for his order.

Much as he wanted to, he didn't dare ignore this. Who knew where it might lead; the Lady ShaRhylla would be even more unhappy than he if she returned to find their world taken from them! The only solution, therefore, at least as far as he could determine, was to admit to the absolute truth as he knew it, and pass the buck of Tarnus' disappearance into the slavering hands of person or persons unknown.

Gulping, he barked a reply, which the communications underling sent back in response.

"Unknown being or beings who go by the name of Eagle: this is Phrinnchatka in reply. Much to our regret, the human you seek was indeed held in inadvertent captivity, for his own protection against those among us who would do him harm.

That much was at least true, if one looked at things in a particular way.

"Unfortunately, within the past day or so he was mysteriously removed from his, ahh-- cubicle, by a method and person or persons unknown to us. At this moment we believe that he is not within the walls of our Great Temple, where he was, erm-- protected, and may not even be within the city."

He paused a fraction longer.

"Or our world," the underling finished, shooting an uncomfortable look into the icy green eyes of the Major-Domo even as his finger touched the sigil to transmit, sending the message winging upon its way.

Shayla paused then, her eyes darkening at the very thought of such happening. Any further discussion on this note, however, was truncated by the chirping of the ship's proximity indicator.

"We're reverting in Endor space," Shayla then said, turning without any further explanation and heading for the cabin to then take control of the Preon's navboard. She piloted them gracefully out of hyperspace and established orbit around the planet easily, as though she and the ship were almost one. As soon as she was certain they were securely in orbit, she programmed the sensors to scan for humanoid lifesigns and sat back for a few moments, knowing the ship would do its work effectively without her manual control. Even so, her curiosity regarding the nature of the teeming life below won out, and she sat forward once again as lifesign data scrolled across the central monitor on the ship's navboard.

Unsurprisingly, the readings were mostly of semi-sentient, primitive species. Shayla's eyes and senses remained glued to the navboard,the readout, and the ship's sensors then. An indeterminate amount of time passed, but she was uncaring as to its passage or to the potential impatience developing in her companions.

For the moment, there was nothing but herself and the ship. And finally, as the readout began registering lifeforms that were recognized as Ewok in npecies by the ship's databases, and anomaly finally surfaced...

...and humanoid life forms registered in the Preon's scopes.

"There," Shayla then said, pointing to the monitor where a map splayed out, a single red blip indicating the area where the humanoid life forms had registered. And, needing no instruction to do so, Shayla began landing procedures, setting herself to the task of finding a viable spot to land the Preon safely before they went on their way.

(((OCC: Follow Shayla, ShaRhylla, and Panthar to If You Go Out in the Woods Today in the CSWU, thank you.)))

Time passed, as it always did. To tell the truth, it had been perhaps but one standard year since her brief but heart-inspiring connection with the sorcerer Freedon Naad, but to the young serving girl it seemed as if eons had dragged by. Her life had neither improved nor degraded; she was still a simple serving girl, ferrying water to those wielding greater power and position within the Temple, and from all indications destined to remain as such for the remainder of her days. Most in her position would have just let themselves grow dull, acquiescing to the drudgery of their position by refusing to consider anything better, and in the doing find a semblance of happiness in the meager crumbs life threw at them.

Not RhoHalla.

She adhered to the vow she had made to herself, to make something better of herself, and knew that in order to do so she would have to leave the Temple. But a young female without the wing of a family to hide beneath was less than the dirt upon which all others trod; better for her that she remain where she was, secure in the dubious honor of working in the Great Temple of the Warriors. And so to compensate, she continued to keep herself sharp in the best way that she knew how: by doing her duties to the best of her ability, and afterwards using much of her short, free hours to learn.

About anything.

She scoured the Temple, finding shortcuts to places others had no idea existed. She found a crumbling door deep in the Temple belly, one which when creakingly opened revealed a noisome corridor. The following day she had come better prepared; armed then with a small torch and a bit of food she had set out along that corridor, coming at last to a chamber which out of nowhere blasted her mind and heart, sending chills of sheer terror washing through her, beating her down and back and back... until she had at length awakened, back in that dark little corridor, wondering just what in S'slaan's name had happened to her. Shaking, she had found her way back to the Temple, only to discover she had been absent for the period of two entire days; it took all the wiles and acting abilities she could muster to convince her superiors that she had taken ill, and hadn't been able to contact anyone. Which in a way hadn't been too far from the truth, after all.

That particular close escape haunted her every day thereafter, and she worked hard to develop skills of stealth and deception. But always with the goal in mind of learning everything she could about this great stone edifice, along with all the information she could glean about its inhabitants.

Thus she knew that the Dark Lady had gone missing. Knew that the headstrong Daughter had likewise done so. Knew the fool of a Major Domo tried his best to run everything, but couldn't manage as much as he thought he could. Knew that yet another human languished in the Temple's dreary, buried dungeons, perhaps in the very one that had once held the strange being called Thoran, whose escape she had aided and abetted.

And for which complicity she had been forgiven, by none other than the Dark Lady herself.

She really had nothing against the Dark Lady Graysith, and actually believed she owed her respect and loyalty. But she still held firmly to her own personal belief: that she was a living entity, who deserved to be treated for who she was, not what she was. And she continued to keep her eyes and ears open, and to poke about, and to learn.

Thus it was that one day she had accidentally stumbled upon The Magick. She had no idea what to really call it, actually, nor had she the slightest clue as to who was behind it.

Perhaps Freedon--?

All she knew was that one day she had been creeping through a sparsely used portion of the Temple when one hand accidentally brushed against the dank moss growing upon the stone walls. To her surprise they writhed beneath her touch... and then drew back to configure themselves into words.

I am here, they had spelled out in shaggy, green fronds. Speak to me now that you have found me.

From that day on she returned to The Magick as often as she could, more than once going without sleep, giving up all her free time, coming here again and again to "speak" with the stranger behind the wall, who bit by bit was beginning to teach her touches of magick.

Now she stood in silence before the words written in noisome greenery:

I have much to tell you.

The mosses writhed then, and returned to their normal mass. She nodded, her heart beating a bit faster with anticipation of what was to be revealed to her soon.

But not this night.

A little smile on her face she fled The Magick, hurrying the long distance she had to cover in order to reach her simple chamber before daybreak...

((OOC: For cross-reference please see Ancient Sith post this date, page 2 in A Rose So Sweet in the "Sith/Jedi" forums, thank you.))

Deep within the bowels of the Great Warrior Temple of K'eel Doba, in a dark and dank cell covered with moss, Matt Stanza sat in a painfully awkward position, chained to the walls by both his hands and feet, stripped of most of his clothing as though his captors feared he might use something on him to free himself. Occassionally, someone would shove a meager piece of something that he thought was once bread through a very small slot in the door of his cell. Matt ate this with great effort, having to twist his arms strangely to get it to his lips. The first time he had partaken the pathetic morsel, his stomach had rejected it...

...but at this point he was so hungry the taste or its potential quality mattered little. After he finished eating, a tray with something wet was shoved through the slot as well. This he was forced to lean over and lap up like an animal.

Matt really had no idea how long he had been in this dismal place, for he frequently fell in and out of conciousness due to overwhelming fatique and pain due to his precarious positioning. He wondered why he was being kept alive at all, and was beginning to believe that someone was gaining a great deal of delight from the manner in which he was being treated. At first, he had worried about the fates of the Sith who had been with him, and had called out to see if anyone was surrounding him. He attempted this several times, and was rewarded with lashes delivered by one strapping Sith warrior or another, all who semed to take great glee in having the opportunity to beat their prisoner. He cursed himself mentally for not backing out of the situation when he could have for quite a while as well.

But at length he was in such agony that, even as alert as he was, he could not think clearly, at least not for any great amount of time. He had just regained some modicum of alertness long enough to eat and drink what was provided via the slot, ignoring the lurch of disgust in his stomach at the sour taste of both, and was beginning to drift once more when something of his normal alertness kept him awake. He once more considered calling out again, but quickly remembered the end result, wincing as a minimally healed beating wound seemed to throb in reminder. His muscles ached, every last one of them, and he yearned for relief from the strange way in which he'd been chained to the wall. He shifted as if doing so would somehow give him some release, and instead felt an uprush of pain. He involuntarily cried out in agony despite his determination to not draw the attention of guards that had to be lingering nearby...

...and the chains that held him remained secure.

But...

Things that by all logic he should have been killed for knowing.

So he wondered again why the kriffing hell he was still alive. His muscles ached at the very thought, and he shifted as much as he could in his restricted position, stabs of sharp pain shooting up and down his legs, spine, and arms. Matt gritted his teeth and forced down an unvoluntary groan as much as he could, cursing the chains that held him. He had been trying for quite some time--and pretty much in vain--to twist and turn them until something snapped free from the wall. He hadn't been successful yet, but he wasn't ready to give up either. At the very least, his action did remind the Sith guards that he was there, for every once in a while his work had created enough of a stir that they had come in to remind him that they were there as well via quick but painful lashings. Something about it all reminded Matt of the Embrace of Pain the Vong were so notorious for...a biological something-or-other that held a person in place so that they were in just enough pain to not fight back but still be cognizant of the agony. Matt had even read of how some people were hung upside down to make the experience even more disorienting.

The very thought made him thankful his situation wasn't any worse. After all, the Sith were down the magicks that the usually relied upon, as was everyone else. Matt took a few shuddery deep breaths then to prepare himself for the effort he was about to make. Then, putting all his strength into moving his arms and legs and torso while striving to do so as quietly as possible, Matt began to twist and turn the chains that bond him in his cell once more.

It was as though these Sith knew he and his commrades had worked their way out of many impossible situations in the past...

...but then again, they had been lead to believe he was someone else.

Reality dawned then on Matt, who was thinking more clearly than was currently usual.

...and on multiple occasions, he quite nearly had come to that point. He remained chained to the mossy wall by both his arms and legs, hanging there awkwardly. While this once had been a painful position, Matt's senses had grown so numb he barely felt anything at all.

Which quite frankly frustrated the Sith guards who did occassionally attend to him. As if to torture him further, they would seemingly forget about him completely, the hunger and thirst almost drove him to death...

...only to then come in and forcibly feed him and make him drink some pathetic scraps of food. Every so often they would speak to one another as they did, and although they spoke in the Sith tongue, he could make out the disgust in their voices.

"I am not Tarnus," he rasped a couple of times, realizing that the guards did not understand him...

...or perhaps that they simply did not care.

While initially such statements would result in a sound beating, the last couple of times he had spoken the others merely laughed and snorted in derision. From their position where one had been holding him up and the other had grasped his jaw to open his mouth and force in some sort of stale bread and water, the "feeder" turned to the other, stated something, laughed...

..and the other threw Matt back to the ground, laughing sardonically as well and kicking him in the stomach. As Matt groaned in pain, one of them stated something in Sith, and both departed.

And that had been the last time he had been tended to. Matt wondered if perhaps they had finally decided to let him pass to the next life, as in a moment of clarity pain shot up his spine. The universe had gone peacefully black then, and remained thus for quite some time...

...until again the door to his prison creaked open. Matt coudn't stop himself.

"Noooooo..." he moaned achingly. And then he fell into silence, knowing there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop whatever would befall him next.

If they only knew...

Each night she'd returned to the mossy place, put her ear to the soft greens, and took in the lessons it told her. Or rather those lessons patiently explained by her mysterious benefactor, over and over until at length with great effort and much practice each had been learned. And in that learning lent her greater strength in herself, which was after all the greatest power one may possess.

Every day she grew more and more adept, even if that which she was mastering was something which might have been but nothing in comparison to what her unknown Teacher knew. But for a young Sith female of the warrior clan, one who would never have even a shred of hope of possessing even the small bits of Sith magicks the warriors themselves owned in their weaponry and in the bonds with their tuk'ata, it was enough.

She delighted in practicing beneath the very haughty noses of her betters one of her very favorite things she had learned. She had no idea what it was called, and so dubbed it the Art of Subtle Being, for lack of a better name. Time and again she would head toward the Grand Dining Hall, her head bowed, staring down at the flagstones over which her naked feet trod, waiting until she knew for a fact that she was being absolutely ignored by any and all who passed her by.

And then in a moment, was indeed beyond their notice completely. In this manner she would then go into the dining hall, walk about between the lesser lords and their ladies, thumb her nose or show her fangs at them, and then flounce away with head held high. Such was the power of the Art of Subtle Being, ever so much more powerful for the fact that she was a being not to be seen very much by others to begin with.

Now she was heading back to her lonely little room, there to snatch perhaps an hour's rest before her day's labors began when she heard it. A groan, coming from... where?

With a start she realized she had strayed from her path, so intent on studying that which her Teacher had just divulged to her. This magick was one that was of a more ominous nature, for with it she would be able to defend herself from attack by stopping her would-be attacker from breathing. Now her own breath stopped, caught in her throat with the realization that she was in the area of the dungeons.

She blinked in the murky light, swallowed as that dismal, distant groan came to her ears again. All her smug self-satisfaction fled her then with the realization that there was someone else down there, someone upon whom she should take pity if only for the fact that they had something common with one another:

Whoever the unknown person was, he wasn't noticed by the Sith very much either.

Her heart leapt into her throat, and led her feet through the noisome corridors, down dank and slippery stone steps, into dimmer and dimmer light, between narrowing walls and over a floor which became less and less flagstone and more and more an admixture of dirt and broken rock.

And she reached a sorry, wooden door. And heard a heart-rending, "No-o-ooo..."

And realized with a start that whoever was behind that door wasn't in there alone.

So she did the only thing she could think of under the circumstances. Stepping quietly a little further down the corridor, she flattened herself against the cold, mossy wall. Then she put the Art of Subtle Being into practice...

...and gods only knew what else. He had been just about able to at least turn himself towards his new "guests" when a red-skinned arm jerked out and grabbed him by an arm. Matt bit his lip, trying to hold back a wince of pain, but was not successful. Another powerful hand then gripped his other arm to stablize him while yet another pair of hands went to work.

Matt knew what was coming. A hand uncaringly grabbed his jaw, forcing it open and putting in a bite of some sort of bread. Matt involuntarily gagged on it, for it was stale and the bite was much to large...

...but a finger reached in and shoved it back in his mouth and down his throat. Matt swallowed painfully, coughing as he did so. His caretakers, seemingly amused by this, chuckled and administered a few more bites. When they were finished a small cateen of water was jammed to Matt's mouth and turned upwards, delivering a rather small amount of drink to his dry mouth, and not nearly enough to parch his thirst.

But it was enough to keep him alive. Matt couldn't stand it. "I'm not who you have been told," he groaned, the words barely coming out and probably not intelligible even if the Sith did understand basic.

One of them snorted, and the one still holding him upright shook him vigorously, stating something in Sith. Then, with no warning whatsoever, that particular worthy simply let go, allowing Matt to drop to the ground with a thud as something in his side snapped. Matt groaned once more as a new pain introduced itself, hoping that was the end of whatever the Sith was going to do...

..but of course it wasn't. One of the Sith, whose gleaming armor caught Matt's eye as he drew was appeared to be a sword, squatted to the ground beside him. The Warrior placed the point of his sword at Matt's throat.

"Silence, human!" he growled, pinning Matt with his sea green eyes for a few moments before gracefully getting back to his feet and reholstering his weapon. He turned to go then, along with his counterpart...

...but then paused once more, turning to then hover over Matt for another moment, regarding him once more as if taking in his features. Shaking his head then, the Sith delivered a strong kick in Matt's side, a smile exposing his fangs as once more Matt fought in vain not to scream in agony.

And at last, the two retreated, letting the door slam closed behind them, and leaving Matt to pray for death...

...for surely his friends had long since decided he was already gone by now.

No, she immediately contradicted that thought. They are not allowed. They too can only do that which is in the scope of their station, just as I can do practically nothing within these walls but carry trays and cower to nearly everyone else who lives within them.

The realization flamed her anger to new heights, heights from which she saw more than ever before... the least image being that of self-preservation. Or the greatest image being exactly that, depending upon how one viewed it...

Thus it was that for no other reason that she was angry with her own lot in life here, she made up her mind as to what she was going to do. Emboldened by her learnings, she came up with a plan of action, and without thinking acted upon it.

The door to the cell was opening... and as it did she crept forward, still hidden by the Art of Subtle Being. The two muscular Sith warriors who emerged through the door were carried thus by their great brawn, certainly not their brains. They laughed and joked crudely with each other over Matt's fate, planning yet more degradations to inflict upon him at their next visit.

Not if RhoHalla could help it.

She was so close to them she could feel the hairs upon the bare skin of their arms as they brushed past her. She dared to let go a puff of breath; it skirled about them like a cold miasma, just about at their chest level. The sea-green eyed one snarled something about living conditions, and went to fling his fur about his shoulders more tightly.

As his arms moved, they displayed the key that was stuck into the leather belt about his waist.

An invisible arm reached. Invisible fingers grasped.

And the pair of burly guardians, secure in their own brand of stupidity, hastened away down the corridor, heading to their barracks where raucous laughter and good Sith brandy awaited them.

Moments later, RhoHalla found herself alone in the murky little hallway, the key to Matt's cell dangling from her fingers. Before she could change her mind she whirled, set the key to the lock, and opened the door a crack.

She paused a moment, teetering between finding her rooms and finding herself.

The latter won. Letting the heavy door creak open a little bit more, she poked her head into the dismal darkness beyond.

"Hello?" she whispered before then falling silent, save for the thumping of her heart she was certain the inhabitant of this dungeon would clearly hear.

Oh no, not again... came the errant thought.

What he heard next lead him to believe that perhaps he finally was mentally breaking from it all. The voice, calling a hello, was soft and warm and inviting.

No bloody kriffing way, as Jasyn was so wont to say.

The thought, for a brief moment, elicited a brief but painful smile from Matt and he chuckled...

...but only once, for that stab of pain shot up his spine once more, and he groaned. As he did, Matt swore he heard a rustle of material, and maybe a softly booted footstep.

What fresh hell was this?

Only couldn't.

Now her heart was in full-blown empathy with the unseen captive. For all she knew it was a serial killer most foul, but even one who made a habit of taking the lives of others didn't deserve to be treated as less than an animal. Slipping inside, she let the door close nearly shut, effectively shutting out the great majority of what light had managed to filter in from the corridor without.

She took a careful step to her direct right, reaching out with her hands, seeking the wall that was nearest to her. For although she herself had never had the dubious pleasure of being held within, she knew those who were would be chained to one of the walls, more than likely in the most uncomfortable position that could possibly be managed. She knew she had to tread lightly, slowly.

"Are you here?" she whispered again as she felt her way along the wall. Eventually her patting hands came to a corner; drawing in a breath, she simply turned left and continued patting her way along the dripping, noisome walls.

Suddenly her searching hand bumped into something hard and round and very, very cold. It was an iron ring, hammered into the stone of the walls. Feeling about it, she came to what she knew to be a thick chain, and following along that came upon...

Something which felt very much like matted, dirty, wet hair. Beneath that, skin which had the breath of winter upon it. She patted softly now but with greater surety, falling to her knees beside the contorted form, not doing anything for the moment but letting her hands run across his face -- which felt to be pleasing to look upon, for an alien -- and chest and arms, wincing at each rough or torn or bloodied place her questing fingers came upon, there in the darkness of the cell.

She felt like crying, for what could she do? She had only really learned small magick: lifting a ball, cooling or warming her breath, and of course her favorite, the Art of Subtle Being. Of what good was that? How could she aid this poor man with what little she had?

She did have a key...

Feeling about, she found his face, and placing a warm hand on either cheek leaned in close.

"Have you strength to walk?" she whispered softly.

...he wasn't going to dare to turn away potential help either. The glimmering of hope gave him an edge of strength. Swallowing to wet his parched mouth, he then opened it to respond to the question posed by assistance he couldn't make out in the dimness.

Still the hands now rested on his face, unlike those he had become so accustomed to, were carefully placed, and gentle.

This was one of those situations. After all, what would the guards think if their little plaything suddenly started to get stronger? RhoHalla didn't disregard for one minute the possibility that, no matter how hard he might try to feign weakness, anger against his captors might overwhelm him before she finally managed to free him. He might make an inadvertent move, a gesture, might say something in a tone of voice different from the haggard one now issuing from his throat.

Any little difference, and his gaolers would notice. They were trained for such things, after all. She only hoped her simple plan would be one they had never been trained for, or not only would Matt be recaptured...

This time he would be summarily executed. As would she, for aiding him.

"Come, then." Deft fingers found the locks, slipped the key therein, released the bonds which had held the man for a length of time so long it all blurred into one horrific Now. He immediately slumped into a ball, his weakened muscles cramping from the movement, unable to gain his feet.

A small, stifled cry squeezed from his lips, wafted into her ears. She cursed silently, knowing time was growing short.

"Here," she said as finding his battered body, she leaned down over him, and using the ability to warm her breath let it flow out upon his cramping, cringing flesh. It was the closest thing to trying to heal him that she could do, that and carefully knead the muscles in his legs in an attempt to awaken them.

It had to hurt. She knew it hurt. But S'slaan help them all, he never uttered a single sound after that initial stifled gasp.

For about five minutes or so she continued to minister to him, then stopped.

"We must go now; draw your strength from me."

Though short for a Sith, at 5'9" she was close to Matt's height, and being Sith, although female, was blessed with a muscular stature, one that had been toned and hardened by her near-slavery in the temple. She winced at how easily she lifted the man, how frail and slight he felt against her. She almost wanted to carry him, but innately knew that would demean him almost as much as the torture he had received from the two gaolers.

So instead she placed a strong arm about him, hugged him to her body, leaned a little away so that more of his weight fell on her than what fell upon his own feet, and stepped out from the cell and onto the broken floor of the corridor without. Quietly then, she closed the door... and dropped the key carefully on the ground where she knew the gaolers would see it.

Let them think it fell from the one's belt, should they return early, was the plan... a plan she fervently hoped would work in their favor and allow her the time to take Matt to the safest and yet most dangerous hiding place she could think of:

...but how the heck they were without any notice, however, he wasn't sure.

The time he had been on his feet was really not as long as it seemed. He gritted his teeth, ignoring any pain as best as he could and refusing to make a sound. Inwardly, he winced with the knowledge that his savior was carrying much more of his weight than he was. He had no idea where she was taking him...

...but all he could do was trust, in his current condition. After a time, they came to a stop. Matt's eyes still had not completely adjusted to the light, and his senses had been so very trained on keeping himself upright and moving that he really hadn't been able to assess his surroundings. He finally took a moment to do so.

Matt's attendant gently prodded him to begin oving again...and as they did, a sensation he had not felt in quite some time invaded his senses. As they stepped out of the transport, Matt felt the rush of cold, fresh air.

Outdoors.

Unconsciously, he took a deep breath, which in turn brought on shooting pain he simply ignored although he did shudder sightly.

Freedom. At last.

For some time more they moved along...again, for a time Matt was uncertain of...but finally they approached a large, Temple-like building. Matt thought it looked vaguely familiar...but his mind was so concentrated on keeping his body upright and moving that he really couldn't analyze this possibility any further. Exhaustion was threatening to take completely over, and he was uncertain how much longer he could remain on his feet. At length, they entered the building, and Matt's attendant began to slow down, perhaps sensing his fatigue, and perhaps indicating they were almost to their destination.

Finally, she stopped, and gently lowered him down, off his feet. At this point he was so exhausted, he was literally fighting to just stay concious...

...but he forced himself to state two simple words. Or at least, he thought he did. "Thank you."

Not so much, though...

RhoHalla remained still until the feeble human's words and completely atonic slump forced her into sudden action. As he slumped heavily beside her, his words of simple thanks rang hotly in her ears.

What have I done?

Those simple words filled her thoughts with equal and growing heat as she quickly caught the failing human and scooped him up in her arms. The motion, combined with the intrusion of those words, interrupted the hold she had upon the Spell of Subtle Being which had miraculously gotten them through the nighttime streets of Phrinn'chatka, deposited by transport at the "end of the line" at the great city's edge, and then all the way to this place, hidden in the dismal hills to the south where nothing green ever seemed to take foothold. They both stood, rimned by moonlight, able to be seen by any and all who might be passing by...

...and yet still she didn't move.

Now is the last time, she thought to herself as she gently lowered the man to the ground. She looked down at his frail, beaten form.

I could kill him... I could say I found him escaped, and killed him as such. No one would say me nay, I would in fact be rewarded to a higher position within the Temple...

Her eyes darkened immediately, and she cast a fast look at the Temple's lowering walls. They widened then with the flood of sudden knowledge.

It is this place... it is He Himself; it is S'laan who brings these drear thoughts into my head.

For a moment she even considered them, but cast them aside like chaff on the wind. Yes she more than likely would be deemed a heroine for her courageous acts... but only for a day. That slightly elevated stature would only fall once more before the patriarchy of Temple life; even if promoted all she had to look forward to the remainder of her life was merely...

More of the same.

Most importantly, though, was her sudden realization at this point in time of who indeed she really was. What she believed in. She thought back, remembering the few words taught to her by Freedon Naad, thought too of her mysterious benefactor hidden away on Khar Delba.

I must get us there, somehow, she thought before lowering herself beside the limp form and nestling her body against his. The night air was chill, she didn't want him to die of exposure now that safety was so close she could almost reach out and grasp it. But...

But.

That would depend on S'slaan... and the resiliency of this man. All she could do was provide him a secure resting place to hide in, and bring him food and other necessities until he was strong enough to travel to Khar Delba.

I will bring him there! she vowed as, feeling him beginning to stir a bit beneath her small ministrations she got to her feet again, his limp form dangling in her arms.

My Teacher will help us, I know it!

Thinking of nothing else then, she took in a breath and strode fearlessly into the noisome temple, steeling herself both mentally and emotionally for the horrific turmoil she knew she would have to face in even that brief exposure.

S'laan: help this one, be not fierce in your defense of this, Your Place, she prayed as, once inside, she followed a dark corridor which coiled back into the shadows. It branched in places, creating a labryinth of tunnels intended to frighten and confuse invaders of this sacred place so that they would lose themselves to it, and eventually to the ferocity of their god as well.

But there was something familiar about one particular spot...

There. This was deep into the Temple, hidden from both the entrance proper... and from the little corridor by which she herself had first entered herein. Gently depositing the human on the stone floor, she breathed warmth upon him, then rose.

"I shall return quickly, with food, water, and bedding," she whispered. Then before the weight of S'slaan's power could take over her being she fled, hastening back the way she had trod those many days ago, to make her way back to the Temple of Warriors and gather up what she could to aid in the recovery of Matt Stanza.

While in her wake something horrific seemed to snarl and roar, and with magicks unknown to any souls but that of the Sith reached forth with something not quite a hand and grasped Time by the throat.

Because at last someone had heard his pleas, and acted on them. And he was safe because of her, and her alone.

For a long time, however, Matt had fallen so deep into the recesses of fatigued slumber that he had no awareness of her departure, nor of where he was. Hours could have passed...or for that matter, days, and Matt Stanza would not have known. But at long last, a sleep of sheer fatigue begain to recede into simple slumber...

...and slowly thought and awareness began to return. The first senses that registered in Matt's mind were nothing more than mere reflex...a shiver registering the sense of cold, a shuddery breath in response to remaining pains, an ache in his dry throat as he took in a breath indicating dehydration.

But Matt's keen mind did not stop there, even in his rest. He still was quite unable to move of his own accord, but logical thought was returning. He began to wonder just how long he had been imprisoned...

...and what had happened to his commrades and friends? What of Panthar Dantares, who had betrayed him...? And Stargazer and Sha'Rhylla...?

These were the damning thoughts that at length brought Matt back to conciousness enough to realize that he was surrounded by the dark, and that he was alone...

...and where are your friends, Matt Stanza? And where is she who was your kind benefactor...? They left you here alone, to die...

...and she has left you here as well.

Perhaps it was the foreboding darkness of S'slan and His Temple that was driving such thoughts. And for some time, Matt entertained such notions...

...but logic once more took hold.

You know not what happened to your friends and colleagues, and now is not the time to analyze that without any data. But you do know that your benefactor had every moment and every opportunity to do whatever she might have wanted to you...

...yet she did nothing other than to bring you here, to safety. Take that for what it is worth, if there is nothing else to come.

Still, Matt Stanza wondered where she had gone, if she would return...

...and if she was safe. For she had taken a mighty risk for him...

Jasyn Lancaster really wanted a drink.

Really bad.

But the problem was, he was having to for once, much to his dismay, be the "responsible one" this go around. He had barely been able to help Cazun Farr aboard the Sith fighter, the other man was so kriffing drunk. Now, Cazun snoozed blissfully on, draped ungracefully in one of the passenger's seats aboard the Sith fighter, snoring loudly every so often. The Sith pilot which had been assigned to escort them to K'eel Doba...

...hadn't said a word. Jasyn wasn't even sure he spoke basic. It had been around three hours since they had left Khar Deblan space, and Jasyn knew it would be at least a couple more before they arrived on K'eel Doba. He also knew that they were too close to utilize hyperspace, not without some piloting skill and precision, so he was not alarmed that standard drive was chosen for their journey.

Not to say that he wasn't in some form alarmed for other reasons. As each minute passed, Jasyn felt more awkward sitting behind the silent Sith pilot, who kept an intense gaze on the controls of the fighter. Mentally, he cursed Cazun for having gotten so damn schnokered...

...although the gods knew he couldn't blame him. Intermittently, a little shoulder devil popped up on his shoulder, snickering.

What if the Sith pilot ISN'T taking you to K'eel Doba? What if what's happening isn't at all what you've been told? He is flying a Sith fighter after all, and you don't know how to fly it or how to read or speak the language he is using to fly the thing...

Unconsciously, Jasyn sighed disgustedly. How he wished Terrin and Galen were here. And Matt...

He frowned, sadly, feeling like the worst friend ever. At length, Jasyn just couldn't take the silence any longer.

"How long til arrival at K'eel Doba?" he inquired, not really expecting a reply, but suddenly wishing for anything to distract him from his guilt-ridden thoughts of the friend who had been left behind for far too long.

...and although he could have most certainly have been dreaming it, his senses told him that he was now both covered by something to keep him warm and had at some point been given drink to parch his dried lips and mouth. And now, when he moved slightly to stretch yet cramped muscles, pain seemed to have lessened.

Had his benefactor returned, to care for him, and he was in turn so out of the loop that he hadn't even realized it?

Still half-asleep, Matt groaned slightly, more to clear his throat and to use a voice that had been silent to anything other than sounds of agony for so long. He swore he had heard something...but maybe his ears were playing tricks on him in this dark place.

She had indeed returned to the dark temple, armed with a set of velvet Sith robes, some soft bedding, and a boxed luncheon which at the moment lay unobtrusively in the dark shadows of Matt's hiding place. She herself had been in the process of again doing what little she could to aid in his healing, and that was to breathe warmth upon his battered form. She had done this over a period of time which seemed to Matt to be over a week or so, coming with food which she had forced down his throat, water to soothe his parched lips and fevered brow, and bedding to replace that which he had soiled while doing battle to regain his former strength and vitality.

Which seemed to be coming back.

She couldn't help but notice that his voice sounded stronger, his eye more clear than she'd seen it during the entirety of her secret ministrations.

And he is lucid.

"I- I am- it is I," she stammered, regaining her composure as she found her feet only to take a courteous few steps backward and away from him.

No need to frighten him by finding a Sith hovering closely as he comes to his senses, she thought to herself.

Turning quickly then, she stepped into the shadows and leaning over retrieved a bundle. Coming back then, she stopped at what she determined to be a distance balancing discretion with concern and held the bundle out.

"Clothing for... for- y-you..."

Now she gritted her teeth and blinked her rusty eyes three times, quite rapidly. Dark shadows suddenly seemed to be pressing in from where the bundle had been laid, seeking with steely fingers of arrogance and blood to wriggle within their folds, to coil up her arms, to enter into her mind...

She shook her head, her horn-chimes tinkling delicately.

Great S'slaan, hold your hand. Lend us your Fierce Strength, for your people have been turning aside from you. We come to your Presence seeking protection and wisdom.

Harm us not, my Lord S'slaan, but lend us Thy strength and magicks in healing this innocent being.

Perhaps it had been something Freedon had once told her that provoked her odd prayer. But into his darkness did it project; she could only hope the Great God would not become angry with her for turning his Temple into a place of mercy and care, and reach out a mighty hand against them.

Nothing happened but the drear thoughts which had been subliminally battering against her seemed to lessen a bit. Taking in a deep breath, she held out the bundle to Matt once again.

"For you," she repeated, her voice strong now yet soft and feminine. She tilted her face down, afraid to look him in the eye. For she knew he more than likely had no love for her race, and the last thing she wanted was that he would perceive her as a threat of any kind to him.

..but little did she know he had known enough Sith to realize that they, like all mortals, were not all the same. And he sensed with certainty that she meant him no harm.

At length he reached out, and took the bundle from her hand, pausing for a moment as he first grasped it and her rusty eyes for a moment met his.

"Thank you," he stated softly. "I am Matt Stanza," he then said, taking the bundle then out of her hands completely...

Encouraged, she raised her eyes a little and peeped at him from beneath her long lashes.

"Those are very good robes, made from the finest g'Narian velvet," she remarked, now lifting her face to fully meet his own frank gaze. "They should keep you warm, and-"

She stopped abruptly, nipping off the remaining "hidden from the eyes of others" as the portent of that comment slammed into her. For in order that the robes indeed hide the human from others of her own kind he of course would be out among them. Would they be enough to deceive the brawny Warriors? And what of herself? So far she had managed to keep her surrepticious actions beneath the notice of her superiors, but it would only be a matter of time before the small but steady stream of supplies she had filched would be missed. Surely suspicions would be raised in her direction; hadn't she already been warned once for being tardy in showing up for one miserable chore, and another time for being sluggish in responding to a lesser lord's demands?

"Comfortable."

She let out a little sigh at her inner questions, then deciding that worry would gain her nothing decided to follow the examples set by both Freedon Naad and her unknown Teacher.

Squaring her jaw, she firmed.

"Where are you from, Matt Stanza, and what offense did you commit to warrant being imprisoned?"

Matt's green eyes defocused, as for a moment he really couldn't remember exactly why he and Panthar Dantares had come here in the first place. But then he did remember.

To offer assistance, as all powers had been blocked.

"I came here to lend assistance, with anther, and I was betrayed." He paused, his look darkening for a moment.

[i]He had to wonder whatever had happened to Panthar, who left him behind and happily went along with ShaRhylla and Stargazer.

"And who are these others of which you speak?" she asked then. "The one with whom you came, who betrayed you. The one you were mistaken to be.

"Who are these unknown personages?"

She let an inner smile come to her as these questions fell from her lips. For there was once a time in her not too very distant past when asking questions of such forthrightness and intimacy of another being, especially of a male - Sith or no - would have been an anathema to her. She couldn't help but be pleased with her quietly growing bravado.I will take this one from K'eel Doba altogether... together we shall travel to Khar Delba, and then...

Her thoughts suddenly derailed as she quite suddenly realized that she had been more than demanding of this man. While gaining his name, and asking for those of beings who might very well have been his accomplices, she had let fall her adherence to standard etiquette and had refrained from telling him her own.

"My name is RhoHalla," she said in sudden non sequiteur, before dropping her eyes and falling silent once again.

"I am honored to meet you, RhoHalla," he said earnestly, and quite honestly, for she had most certainly saved his life. He hoped she didn't take the statement as too forward or inappropriate...for it was quite simply that of earnest appreciation. To reflect that appreciation further, he at last unfolded the robes she had given him, wrapping them about himself...

...and finally realizing with a sudden start that he had been out of it long enough to not even realize his lack of clothing. His face reddened slightly...

...and then he regained his composure, quite quickly. "I came here with one named Panthar Dantares," he answered simply. "I do not know what happened to him once I was imprisoned..."

He trailed, his green eyes defocusing as he thought for a moment before they snapped alert once more, "But he had been part of a deception to lead your people to believe I was a leader of the Empire...one named Sorben Tarnus."

Here Matt paused, wondering for just a brief moment if perhaps he was stating too much. But that moment was ever so brief...

...for his senses, though not those of a Jedi, were quite keen. He read no sense of deception from RhoHalla in the slightest. And those senses had made him one of Terrin's sole trusted employees, his second in command, no less, and a close friend..

Oh kriffing hell. Terrin. Jasyn. Galen. What had happened to them...???

What would my Teacher think of me?

The thought made her nose wrinkle even more, and she shot a look through half-lidded eyes to meet the earnest green pair before her. With a start, she recognized the utter honesty with which he was honoring her; blinking, she sat back and let her features smooth.

"I'm afraid I don't know of this- this 'Panthar Dan-Dan-tar-es," she finally said, her silky voice stumbling over the unfamiliarity of the name. "But if you need assistance in finding him, I believe we may find that--"

Suddenly she broke off, biting her lip, as a sudden memory kicked open a door in her mind.

Panthar Dantares! Of course she knew of this name! Did not her Teacher tell her of a Writ of Abeyance, decreed by the Great Dark Lord Aelvedaar himself, that all Sith should cease and desist in all they do in the effort to find him? And a companion who was with him--

"YOU are Matt Stanza!" she suddenly blurted, raising her hands to her mouth then as though to stifle any further outburst from coming.

What was going on here?

"Y-yes," he stammered a bit, acting quickly to regain his composure. And while he wasn't sure it was the best idea for him to ask, he needed to know, if she would in fact tell him. "How do you know of my name?"

After all, while most outside of the Sith worlds could know his name in relation to Eagle Enterprises, the Sith would not necessarily...

Freedon Naad has gone the ways of the wilderness, but I may be able to entice leave of my wretched life here in the Temple by going instead with this one. Perhap even to Khar Delba!

Blinking, she reached her hands out to Matt in entreaty.

"Oh, no no no!" she burst out with. "Please, do not fear. There is no evil within me toward you, no hidden agenda.

"It is only that I have been so concerned with assisting you in regaining your health that I have forgotten something I have learned."

Casting her eyes furtively about, she leaned in closer to breathe the words into Matt's ear. For the moment she thought it prudent not to reveal her source.

"Let all of K'eel Doba cease and desist in all efforts but that of finding the whereabouts of the two missing men, Panthar Dantares and Matt Stanza, and furthermore give to the bearers of this Writ all assistance and due respect they would award unto me, Dark Lord Aelvedaar..."

She sat back, looking into his widening eyes, taking in the expression on his face in which a battle between hope and distrust was being heavily waged.

"It is an Official Writ of Abeyance," she concluded, letting her hands fall into her lap.

"They are coming for you and Panthar."

...for last he knew, it was ShaRhylla...

...they may or may not pay the slightest head to the Writ.

"I trust you, RhoHalla, he then stated aloud, purposefully using her name, sensing that, in all her apologizes, she was quite used to having to grovel when things went wrong.

Unconsciously, he scowled a bit at this, never having believed in such treatment of others. Then, realizing he was scowling based on her reaction to him, he let his face soften, and he directed his green eyes into hers.

"I understand you are a stranger here amongst us, and have been treated badly. Thus you probably don't trust us; I don't blame you for that."

She hung her head momentarily, aching for how he had been treated. But then, even as she empathized so deeply with Matt and his terrible experiences within the temple, she couldn't help but wonder if perhaps there had been a reason for his imprisonment. All she had to go on, after all, was what he'd told her; honestly she hadn't managed to scrounge up the why of his being kept in the dungeons of the Great Temple of the Warriors, only that he had been.

She pondered further, wondering what it exactly was that was behind the Great Dark Lord's command to seek this man.

Was the intent good or bad? Was he to be rescued from one world... or merely to be transferred into imprisonment upon another?

But that didn't make any sense. Why would the population be placed on alert to find him? Had his escape from the dungeons been discovered? That couldn't be correct; she'd gotten information concerning the Writ of Abeyance before she'd helped him escape from the dungeons. There had to be another reason as to why Dark Lord Aelvedaar was involved...

Much as she'd like to believe this concerned a rescue of sorts, she truly couldn't say. All she knew was that the Dark Lord Aelvedaar had commanded the entire populace to be on the lookout for him, and that someone was coming to retrieve him.

She looked up at him quickly.

"I- I don't know who it is who is coming for you," she began, even as a plan began forming in her mind as to how she might ferret out this information. Still keeping mum about her mysterious benefactor, she continued:

"I only know that the Dark Lord Aelvedaar has commanded it, and that when Dark Lords speak, nations bow and obey."

She reached for him, touched his arm with light fingers.

"Perhaps it is a rescue. I can find out... at least I think I can."

...please."

He paused, considering further, his mind wandering a bit to darker thoughts.

What had suddenly triggered the Dark Lord to put out this Writ of Abeyance? Although he knew he'd really lost true track of time...

...it seemed he'd been gone far long enough for someone to have already noticed his and Panthar's disappearance.
[i]How long had it been? And in that time, what had happened?

Matt knew he was completely out of the loop. Then, suddenly, something slammed home.

Was RhoHalla wondering why, all the sudden, a Dark Lord put out a Writ of Abeyance for him and Panthar?

"It could be a rescue. I left Khar Delba with Panthar Dantares to come and offer assistance, and in our leaving we left behind some of my best friends on the Sorcerer's world."

Oh Fates, what had happened to everyone?

"That must be it," she announced brightly. "It must be that your friends are being given permission to come fetch you. If they were on the Sorcerer World, it was not without the Great Dark Lord's knowledge. The Writ stated that all should seek your whereabouts; thus it would make no sense that they would come here to take you from one dungeon to another, for there would be no reason in seeking you, would there?"

She paused a moment to let Matt assimilate her somewhat naïve logic, and then went on.

"I believe help is coming your way, whether in the form of these friends of which you speak, or Sith sorcerers who come to bring you back to them. Either way, I feel your troubles will soon be over, and I hope-"

She cut herself off in mid-sentence then, and cast her eyes downward. No matter that her self-esteem was growing in leaps and bounds with each passing day; no matter that she had risked her life in rescuing Matt and bringing him to the somewhat dubious safety of the Temple to S'slaan...

She still couldn't find the courage to ask him outright to take her away from K'eel Doba with him.

She cleared her throat, as if in compensation for truncating her last statement.

"Morning draws nigh; I must return to the Temple. I will go to... my... friend, who has knowledge of such things, and will ask who it is who comes here seeking you, hopefully to take you away from here to where you truly belong."

And hopefully taking me along with you.

Before he could respond, she rose gracefully to her feet.

"I will return as quickly as I can slip away, and will bring you more food and drink, and bedding. The rock here is hard; you need more to cushion you from the floor of this Temple.

"Try not to think of drear thoughts; be aware that it is the Great S'slaan who would take light in all and twist it into dark. I have prayed much to Him, and have even sent him a burnt offering, that he might not just overlook our intrusion into this, his Place of Places, but assist in your healing. For His power is great."

She stopped a moment, reverently closing her eyes before opening them quickly and looking Matt square in the face.

"But he may yet come and bring Darkness with him."

Daringly then, she reached out a small hand and placed it on Matt's arm.

"Stay strong, stay wary, and stay self aware. I suggest you try to sleep; the Great S'slaan cannot harm you in your slumbers, although he may send night demons to haunt your dreams. The dreams may stretch long, if He deigns to assist... as will the days within, days in which you will be healed.

"I will return as soon as I am able, and hopefully will have more news for you, Matt Stanza."

With that she turned on her heel and melted into the shadows, seeking the route she knew that would take her back via underground tunnels to a particular unobtrusive passageway deep in the bowels of the Great Temple of The Warriors. There she planned on trying to make contact with her mysterious benefactor, in the hopes of gaining the information she promised she would bring back to Matt upon her return.

And how long had it been? Weeks? Months? ...a Year or more???

Matt closed his eyes and shook his head, trying to physically push away these thoughts, recalling RhoHalla's warning.

The fact remained that, while they hadn't ocme for him in the past, that his friends now were coming after him. Or at least, someone was...

Jasyn, Terrin here. I don't have the time to explain all of it, but I am shortly on my way to go to Galen, who has gone back to Degobah to do some...

He paused, searching for the right word. Investigation.

He paused again, wincing at his last words...at the understatement in them. He knew Jasyn would be able to figure out what wasn't being said. He'd been on Degobah too, after all.

There is still some possibility she could also be headed to the Sith worlds, so keep an eye out for her...

He trailed again, wishing he had the time to explain further. There's a lot going on, and I can't get into it all. But be vigilant. You are safe where you are...

A pause. Or at least, he thought so.

...and hopefully we'll be able to reunite soon and catch up...

Kriffing hell, how long had it been...???

Let me know how things are progressing where you are and if you've had any luck finding Matt.

Cazun was still dead to the world on a bench across from him in the small lounging area on the Sith ship they were taking in transit to K'eel Doba to hopefully find Matt. He knew they would soon arrive, or at least he hoped, for it seemed like they had been in transit for an eternity.

"Yeah buddy, you could perk up any time now," he growled under his breath, knowing Terrin and the gang would be laughing their asses off at him having handle a drunk.

As if on cue to that thought, Jasyn's comm went off. He pressed it, and listened to the incoming message, his brown eyes darkening at the import of what was being said.

Degobah? As in the place where they had run into That Which Is? Oh bloody hell. And she was alone...

Jasyn knew without being told Terrin was probably losing his mind.

But at least Terrin's message did give him something to do.

He pressed the reply button.

We should arrive at K'eel Doba soon. Hopefully we'll be recieved well and can find Matt.

He sent the message off the encrypted channel, scowling, not liking any of it one bit.

Then he reached over and put a hand on Cazun's shoulder, shaking him a bit. "Hey, pal, you might want to get it together. I think we'll be arriving shortly."

Jasyn Lancaster scowled at the half-empty mug of Sith brandy he'd been nursing, his brown eyes darkening.

K'khil had said their ETA to K'eel Doba was 6.48 standard hours. How the bloody hell did hours feel like a couple of years?!?

On the bench nearby, Cazun muttered sleeply, still resting off his intoxicated stupor. Jasyn scowled, taking a drink of brandy, realizing he'd been holding the mug for a seeming eternity while he was lost in introspection. After all, Terrin had communicated with him that Galen had gone off, most likely to Degobah, on her own and he was headed after her, worried sick as to what could possibly happen.

Dammit, he wished he was there to help...

His scowl blackening further, Jasyn realized just how much he missed the companionship of his comrades: Terrin, Matt...

...and Galen. Although he hadn't known Terrin that well prior to her entry into his life, Jasyn knew that she had been the best thing that had ever happened to his Boss. And now they were all separated, and Fates knew if Matt was alive or not. It had been too long...

Cazun muttered once more, jarring Jasyn from his dark thoughts as he glanced over in his direction.

Maybe here was another ally and friend? After all, he's not that different from you. And clearly, he appreciates a good mug of brandy...

Despite himself, Jasyn snorted a bit in bemusement, knowing that he was usually the sleeping drunk, and not the responsible caretaker. If the others knew, he'd never hear the end of it. Maybe soon, they'd be together again, if and when he found out what happened to Matt.

I must help Matt from this place!

The single thought stood as a guiding flame in the forefront of her mind, offering focus and surcease from the daily routines which would beat her into a dull little mote, yet throughout said routines the passage of time seemed to be that of years, so anxious was she to be finished. That beacon egged on another promise she had made the human...

Names. He needs the names of who comes for him. But why--

The addendum triggered another one, one which coming quite out of the blue now blossomed into horrific proportions.

Does it really matter?

Rising up from her bent position polishing a table in one of the warrior's private quarters she paused, and considered her reflection in the gleaming greelwood surface. It presented her face to her, now one creased with sudden worry, eyes opening wide in trepidation.

How exactly is he to be rescued? He is not where he should be! He should be in his cell, near death; the Major Domo left in charge should know of this, and when his friends come with their Writ they will discover his absence, and... and...

Her hand flew to her mouth, polishing rag and all. Delicate, pearly claws pressed deeply enough to release small droplets of her blood upon them.

Oh Great S'slaan, what am I to do?

She could only think of one thing, and that was to do precisely what she had been doing: slaving away at her work, counting the minutes to herself until she was finally released...

...so she could go to her special hidden place and seek further wisdom from her mysterious benefactor on Khar Delba.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Her shift came to an end at last, and that could not have been soon enough. It was a good thing that her supervisor had been busy elsewhere in the depths of the Great Temple, for certainly she would have had her dragged from her work and publicly flogged more than once throughout the day. Concern over her predicament had grown by leaps and bounds, slowing her nimble fingers, tripping her light footsteps, and otherwise creating the kind of chaos in her personal work space that only something of monstrous proportions could bring. By the time her day ended, it was to discover she had only finished half of her allotted chores.

Well, it matters not! she told herself stoically as she tossed her cleaning implements willy-nilly into their little closet, calling to S'slaan that he might take pity on her and somehow cause them to be cleaned and dried properly. For now she had no time for such things.

Within a day, I will either be freed from this place...

...or dead.

Indeed, in counting back the hours to when she had been told of the Writ's creation, she calculated that the human male's rescuers were not only on their way, but due to arrive on her world at some point early the following day. How events would transpire from there was something she didn't really want to think about.

I only wanted to help! she thought to herself as, gulping a bit in an attempt to bring descending calm upon her being she invoked the Spell of Subtle Being. It's warm caress blanketed her, bolstering her with courage.

Worse case scenario, I can just lead him someplace, and remain with him until his friends approach. I can then release him from Subtle Being, so he could go greet them with whatever story he can devise concerning how he was freed from his cell.

This thought segued into another, bringing forth memories of a week ago when she herself proved the means of that very act. These in turn led to another small, remembered act, which caused her to brighten.

The keys. I did drop them outside his cell. Who is to say that the guards, in their beating of the prisoner, were inflicting this with such vehemence that the keys fell inside the cell? That he thus somehow managed to free himself?

After all, we know so little about these people, they might very well have hidden strengths of their own, strengths worthy of the Warrior Caste itself, and strengths which would carry him away to hide, and seek sustenance, and otherwise keep him safe from harm...

...all of his own doing.

But of course this would utterly remove her from having contacted him at all. In this scenario, he would have no reason to plead for her freedom.

But he would be free.

She sighed, consigning to further years of drudgery.

There is still my benefactor, she mused as, drawing her spell about her more tightly she hastened off to the Secret Place, there to ask the unknown personage on Khar Delba who it was who was coming in rescue...

As well as if there was any advice they could offer regarding her own predicament.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Her footsteps weren't nearly as light now as she headed off to the drear Temple of her god. This final trip found her hands free but her heart heavy. For the benefactor wasn't able to offer much in the way of assistance.

All that mysterious personage was able to offer was a general description of those coming to seek the man imprisoned so long on the Sister World. One a biped, black in color with an armored surface, much like many beetles which crawled about the equatorial regions of the Magicians World, and two more likewise biped, but softer and with tufts of hair atop their heads. These two were thought to be something once overheard in reference as "human."

No other information was gleaned. The mosses at that time had grown silent, still and brown.

Soon she reached the Temple of S'slaan, and hastened inside. There she quickly retraced her steps to the patiently waiting Matt.

From what she could ascertain in the dimness of the Temple, he looked to be much stronger. His cheeks were ruddier, his eyes clear, and for the first time neither the robes she had brought him nor the bedding were soiled. If ever he was ready to step forth on his own device, unaided by her comparatively great strength, it was this day.

Quickly she told him everything: not only what she had gleaned from her mysterious teacher, but her thoughts and fears for both herself and him during the final implementation of his release.

"The only thing I can think of is that I allow you to be discovered, but only by your friends. This can be arranged, even if they are accompanied by warriors... which they will most likely be. Strangers are not allowed free run of Phrinnchatka; they will be under surveillance in seeking you out."

She paused a moment, then repeated herself.

"I can manage to present you to them, alone from me. It will be up to you to then explain how you came to be free. I imagine you can say whatever you like, for a Dark Lord's Formal Writ supersedes all else. Regarding you and your friends, that is."

She sighed heavily before finishing.

"But if I am discovered as the one who freed you to begin with, I will be killed."

She cast her rusty eyes downward then to hide the great disappointment which was now welling up in them. And although she yearned with all her heart and soul and very being to be off of this world and away...

Somewhere! Khar Delba; ANYWHERE!

...she breathed thanks to S'slaan that she hadn't mentioned this to him at any point during their brief association together.

No need for him to worry about me...

Undoubtedly the Sith form of clearing one's throat.

"We are approaching K'eel Doba, and shall be landing soon," he announced in a polite yet somehow sneering voice.

"It is early morning in Phrinnchatka; the bells will be bringing the Awakening. Be prepared for something of a wait upon your arrival."

With no further word he turned back to the controls, satisfied that the emphasis he placed on the word "your" was enough to get it's meaning across. He was, after all, there to pilot these strange peoples, both to and from the Warrior World of the Sith.

Other than that, he had absolutely no obligation, nor did he intend to assume any. All he wanted was to have his ship attended while he visited the Great Dining Hall of the Temple.

An elbow found purchase, and he forced his body to a semi-supine position, even as his free hand reached upward in the attempt of wiping matter from his bleary eyes and remnants of drool from his chin.

"Wh-whazzat?" He mumbled, following this muffled inquiry with a mighty, throat-clearing coughing hack. A short period of eye-blinking brought him into a semblance of wakefulness. Licking his dry lips, he tried again.

"Di- did somebody say something? Are we there yet?"

Groaning now, he placed his free hand on his head and allowed himself to fall backward once again.

Never touching that stuff again! he vowed to himself, wishing for nothing more than a big glass of water and an even bigger pain pill, to if not assuage then to at least lessen the Death Star intensity of the headache that was suddenly pounding behind his eyes.

...and perhaps something other than that too.

She had risked her life to save him when there had been no other. He wasn't about to do nothing to prevent harm...or worse!...from coming to her.

His eyes defocused as he turned his thoughts to this, considering what she had said and how could play things to both get to those who atleast sounded like his commrades...

Terrin and Jasyn maybe? And that Verpine, what was his name?

.... and keep her safe. Certainly, even if he'd stated he somehow managed to get free on his own and she had found him and helped him, unaware that he'd been a prisoner, she'd still be in danger.

Or would they see her as a benefactor, having helped one who had a Formal Writ for his release, and leave her be?

Matt frowned to himself. He wasn't sure of that. He then relayed what he had just been thinking to RhoHolla, wondering if after this she would ever be safe again at all here...

...and another idea crossed his mind. "My friends and I hae worked along with Dark Lord Aelvedaar many times, and it is quite possible that I could say I gained my freedom by means I am not even certain of...

...of magicks and more than that. After all, I was chained and quite incapacitated. I'm not sure at all they would believe I was able to escape all on my own."

He paused, again sensing something from RhoHolla, but then continuing on with his thughts. "I could say that you found me and assisted me....

...or we could simply go with your plan for you to stay out of it entirely."

Matt quieted again, looking RhoHolla's way. Even though it was dim in the Temple of S'slan, he could have sworn a tear nearly glinted her eye. He hadn't forgotten how he'd sensed that perhaps she was not of the highest order within the ranks of the Warriors, and he hated to leave her to it when there was another option.

Hoping he wasn't being too forward, Matt stood, walking more closely to her.

"You have saved my life," he stated, pausing a moment. "I don't know what you have here on K'eel Doba in terms of family or otherwise...

...but you could come with us."

And it was a good probability that they Sith escort wasn't too interested in conversation either.

Jasyn scowled, then lightened up as he looked over to Cazun, who was holding his head. "Well good morning there, sunshine."

As he spoke he stood, finding what he assumed was the Sith equivalent of caf and pouring it into a mug. He then carried it over to Cazun, who really looked like he needed it.

"Our escort said we're almost to Khar Delba," Jasyn then indicated as the other took the mug from him. "Maybe you should drink up and get a bite to eat so that you're ready to go. We've probably got a long day ahead of us."

Yes!

"Yes!" she voiced the affirmation aloud, now leaning forward with a bit more excitement, her horn-charms chiming musically with the small movement.

"The Dark Lord of the Sorcerers, Lord Aelvedaar..."

RhoHalla paused the merest moment, closing her eyes and dipping her head in quick but reverent respect...

"Most certainly could implement your release from your imprisonment. In fact, he even could have gone so far as to heal you from afar; I do not know the exact strength of his magicks, but if there is yet another on that world who reaches out to me here..."

Another momentary pause while the question of whether or not that mysterious person was the Dark Lord himself, quickly squashed...

"It most certainly stands to reason that he himself could reach out to you, once he knew you were here."

Once he knew you were here. Was there a way he could have determined this, and more importantly, would he have bothered to do so? He had, after all, sent the human's own companions out to seek him, and more than likely would have done nothing more than wash his great, clawed hands of the affair after that.

For he was the Dark Lord of his world, and more than likely had things of greater importance to attend to.

Then why the Writ of Abeyance, in which he directed all Sith to cease and desist in their regular activities, and be on immediate lookout for this man? This too was squashed... but only partially, as she strove to find a reasonable explanation for it.

Falling silent, she chewed her lip, now daring to look straight into Matts warm eyes, seeking guidance within them.

And just perhaps, a bit of something more.

He took a sip, relishing the sheer mass of it as the hot liquid streamed down his throat to bounce around in his stomach.

Which gurgles ignominiously at the onslaught.

Ignoring that, he nodded to Jasyn over the rim of his cup.

"Thanks pal," he managed between gulps. He allowed those gulps to come in quicker and quicker succession, as with each draught his headache seemed to pound just a bit less. At length it felt like a normal headache, similar to what one might feel after not getting enough sleep.

"So we're coming in for a landing," he said simply, trying to nod and finish the dregs of his cup all at the same time. By the miracle of whatever heavenly beings watch over Tibanna miners, he managed the feat. Smiling he put the cup down on the nearest surface.

"Where's the Insect?" he asked then, his bloodshot eyes taking a quick glance about the area around him.

The chittering clack of mandibles gave further credence to the words which the Verpine suddenly spoke, seemingly from nowhere...

...but which of course originated from his position sitting directly behind the seat upon which the miner had slouched into brandy induced slumber.

Those mandibles clattered a bit more, though whether in laughter as the Verpine observed the human's over-reaction to the simplicity of his words was something only he himself knew, or would be willing to relay to them all.

His shining, unblinking eyes clearly reflected the image of Cazun who, with a most unmannerly "GAKK!" involuntarily jumped about half a meter to land in the heap on the deck of the little Sith ship.

His mandibles chittered yet again...

Ok, so the Dark Lord had issued a Writ of Abeyance to find him and Panthar, after which RhoHolla had released him from his captors, not realizing his connection with the Writ, or perhaps not knowing of the Writ at all then.

Anyone who would have secured his release via magick or something other would have logically taken it a step further and gotten him the hell off K'eel Doba...

...after all, similar things had happened before. So what was a logical explantion for him having been rescued but then left, to be found by RhoHolla later...?

...unless...

"Perhaps there is a logical explanation for why the Dark Lord may have helped release me, only to then leave me here. Much darkness has been afoot..."

He paused, for this was in fact no lie.

"Something could have come about to halt his ability to release me and notify others that the Writ was no longer needed."

Matt trailed, frowning, not certain this was the best explanation but not being able to think of anything better. Then something that he hadn't thought of, something that he realized with a start he might should have recognized sooner, registered in his mind.

He directed his green eyes in RhoHolla's direction, arching an eyebrow. "How did you get me out of the dungeons, out of the Temple, and here without being noticed? I was in absolutely no shape to help you, so you did the majority of the work."

He paused one final time, something else registering. "You said someone from the Sorcerer's World reaches out to you here...?"

He wasn't sure, but if this was true...

"Yes," she admitted freely. "There is one there who has been... well, teaching me magicks. I do not know who this one is, or why they do as they do. I don't know if I was chosen to be the recipient of their teachings, or if this was due to the sheer happenstance of my accidentally finding the Mosses."

She paused a moment, now lifting her face to look directly into Matt's own. Her features creased with earnestness.

"I found The Place by accident one day," she repeated. "I was wandering about the Temple and brushed up against them. They are in a... a hidden spot not much frequented by others."

She paused yet again, choosing what words with which to continue, and quickly did so, not willing to let Matt wonder what made her wander about has she had been doing. She did not want to bring up her brief acquaintanceship with Freedon Naad, for his very name did nothing but provoke a feeling of failure in her.

SHE had failed HIM somehow; that had to be why he fell out of contact, it just had to be...

And she quite simply did not wish even the tiniest mention of this to somehow, well... curse the relationship she was now developing with this human.

Whatever that happened to be.

She continued quickly. "I brushed against The Mosses, and words formed. I was told that they could teach me things that could... could help me, and they did.

"It was by implementing these few magicks that I learned that I managed to free you from your prison. I used the Magick of Life-breathing to bring warmth to your body, and used the Art of Subtle Being to mask us both from prying eyes. I was able to free you altogether due to the stupidity of your gaolers, who did not even know I was there as I plucked the keys from the belt of one of them.

"And then I took you here, to the Temple of S'slaan. That was the only safe place I could think of to hide you, where I could then come throughout the day with food and drink and clothing."

For yet a third time she paused briefly, before continuing with, "I apologize if S'slaan brought you discomfort or ailments of your sleep while you were under the auspices of his Place of Places. He does tend to bring nightmares and dark thoughts, and has been known to drive men quite mad."

Leaning forward, she dared to reach out one delicate finger, which traced a light line down the planes of Matt's rugged features. She stared deeply into his eyes, as if seeking something there.

At length she sat back, let her arm drop.

"I do not think he brought madness upon you," she finally said. "For although he is a Great and Demanding and Selfish god, he also has been known to harbor something akin to kindness. I do believe he recognized the fact you had already been through enough madness, and through that of his own helped me to hide you from the rest of our people."

He paused for a moment then, his green eyes meeting hers and perhaps a moment of something not quite tangible passing between them. Then he let his hand move back to his side, furrowing his brow and cocking his head as he once more thought of the best and safest course of action.

"My friends and I have been intertwined with the Sith for quite some time, which is the simplest and most logical explanation for the Writ of Abeyance. When I first arrived here, I had come with Panthar Dantares because all magicks and powers had disappeared.

Thanks to 'Ole Googly, came a dark thought. Haven't thought about that in a while, have you budddy?

"I can only assume based on your ability to use magick that said powers are accessible once more. There is logically enough going on that the Warriors would be aware of that would in turn interrupt Aelvedaar--or others surrounding him who might do it--from fully rescuing me.

Occum's Razor, eh?

"I'm not certain it would be a good thing for others to know that you found the Mosses you speak of, if they were hidden in the way it sounds...

...but it definitely sounds as though you should come to the Sorcerer's World with us. But I will not put you at risk, and like you said my rescuers will most likely have an escort not only here, but have one who has broght them here and will return them. We need a reasonable explanation for your being with us...

...and the most logical one is that you found me later and took me in, only to later hear of the Writ."

And it frightened her down to her very soul of souls. For now all words, all wishes, all thoughts and vows of some day and one day all fell by the wayside, trampled beneath the great rolling wheel of action.

It was happening. It was really happening!

She shivered a little, just once, as with the greatest of efforts she pushed away the rising fear, shoved it down and away; closing her eyes, she brought upon her own self the Ritual of Life-Breathing, in this case bringing warmth to that descended upon her in a velvet cloud, to cover and extinguish the coldness of that rising and irrational fear.

It shall be all right. He will be with me. For I sense a great kindness in his spirit; I aided him, now he aids me in turn.

A little smile washed across her lips.

"I believe that might work," she at length said softly. "I had no idea you had as much power with out people as you do. I thank you for the kindness you are now extending to me, and place my life with yours."

"Please, Matt."

There, she finally dared speak his name!

"Take me with you. Take me from this world, to Khar Delba or-"

Seriously, laughing!

At his surprise and following actions.

Jasyn's lips slipped into a bemused lopsided grin as something internally was thankful for the comic relief, at some level just beyond his conscious awareness.

He was gonna like the Verpine.

"Well there's your answer," Jasyn then said in Cazun's general direction, his lopsided grin growing impossibly more lopsided as he then sat back down, mug still in hand before turning a ittle more serious. "And really, maybe you should get something to eat. You've never been on a Sith world before, at least not for any length of time while you've been sober."

Jasyn paused, the smirk returning slightly before fading once more. "It can be kinda intense."

"I believe you," she said simply. Then drawing a breath she rose gracefully to her feet. Her horn charms made the motion into one of sheer musical charm. For a moment she paused, wondering if she should extend her hand to him.

Deciding that might seem a bit too forward, she contented herself with bestowing upon him her most entrancing smile.

"Come," she said as she extended her hand now in the direction that would lead them from this dark Temple and back to Phrinnchatka proper. Not waiting to see his reaction, for in fact she was rather embarrassed by the smile she had just given him, she quickly turned and headed off into the shadows, one sharp ear cocked to ascertain that he was indeed following her and keeping up with the rapidity of the pace she set.

...instead of having rescued him from the depths of the Temple then hidden him until he was well, knowing all along that he was being sought out. Matt wondered if his plan would work, for certainly this could all go an entirely different way despite how he and RhoHolla had thought things out.

After all, he wasn't entirely sure who was calling the shots for the Warriors. If it was still ShaRhylla...

Matt frowned, troubled by the thought. Would she head the Writ of Abeyance? And what of whoever was incoming for him, especially if it was some of his own friends?

Maybe this was a bad idea after all...

The Dark Lady ShaRhylla was certainly not known for her compassion for others, after all. And she had the quickest temper RhoHalla had ever seen in a Lord or Lady, even quicker to flare than her own supervisor whom in the privacy of her own tiny room she referred to as "d'kane ri-bf'ye," or "one with the flaming tongue..."

She shot Matt a little smile, one meant to reassure him that their chances of this ruse working were greater than they would have been, had Dark Lady ShaRhylla been running the show.

"I believe the Dark Lord Aelvedaar is in power on Khar Delba, while here The Dark Lady has gone off on a personal errand," she said simply.

"The Major Domo, He Who Is Not Named, is sitting for the Dark Lady at the moment."

There really wasn't anything mysterious in that this Sith's title bore no name. According to Sith tradition when the Major Domo, or in fact any other, took temporary command, none would call him by his own name. In fact, he himself was encouraged to try to forget he even had a name to call his own. This subtle degradation served as reminder that he was not Dark Lord, but merely a stand-in. Not having a name helped assure he would not develop a following, which could end in one of two possible ways:

Either he would be elevated to the Dark Lordship, or elevated even further by his martyrdom.

In either case, transpiring events would be messy due to the discord creating them, and if there was one thing the Sith civilization disliked, it was discord.

He couldn't quite remember or maybe never even knew why she'd done that???

--and leaving him to rot while she, Panther, and Shayla Stargazer to do Fates knew what.

Let alone what she might have done to RhoHolla, Matt thought, surpressing a shudder at the thought. Still, Matt found it quite strange that ShaRhylla was gone, and that a Maor Domo was instead in control.

He was pretty sure the whole lot of them that had left him to imprisonment had been going off somewhere, but had they never returned...?

Realizing he'd lost himself in his thoughts, Matt's eyes snapped alert, looking to RhoHolla, who was probably wondering if he was in fact backing out on the plan they'd made.

No, it was still the most logical approach, as far as he could figure anyway...

"The...Dark Lady is in fact the one who imprisoned me to begin with, telling everyone I was Lieutenant General Sorben Tarnus," he then stated. "Her reaction to the Writ of Abeyance, let alone my escape, could have been uncertain," he then said simply, something of his concern for RhoHolla's well being floating in the depths of his clear green eyes. "You said the Dark Lady has been away on a personal errand. How long has she been away?"

That air wasn't giving them the welcome the pilot had hoped it would. The troposphere is known as the "layer of weather" on many a world, and was proving itself to be just that in this one small spot on this particular planet. The fighter bumped and bounced, jouncing it's passengers back and forth, up and down, as without brilliant streaks of lightning leapt between demonic clouds as if in the attempt of plucking them from the very air to dash against the hard ground below.

The pilot merely yawned, while rather distressed noises floated into his ears from the aft. He smiled then, letting his lip curl juuuuuust a touch as he wiggled the controls just so. The ship, reading his mind, smirked in reply and side-slipped even as the electric roar of thunder provided it with music to dance by.

A thud came from the rear. The pilot's lip curled further.

Then steadying his grip upon the controls, mind-to-mind with the biomechanics of the fighter, the two of them held an intimate conversation between themselves until the ship at last came down to an ice-smooth landing on the tarmac of the Phrinnchatka spaceport Ch'arlingua.

The pilot did not waste any time. He merely stood, directed instructions. The ship responded, powering down amid the hissing of gasses and the ticking of metals impacted by so sudden a temperature change. Another sound came into his ears, one silent to the ears of a human:

The hatch opened.

Reaching under his seat, the pilot grabbed his small kit.

"I will be in the Dining Hall of the Great Temple," he said succinctly. "The Receiving Room is there as well. A transportation system will take you to Phrinnchatka.

"Enjoy your stay."

He didn't so much as look at the little group which was displayed in varying positions on the seats and deck in the aft of the fighter. His long legs carried him swiftly the short distance from the pilot's seat, through the open hatch, down the gangway, and onto the tarmac when he soon disappeared into the myriad Sith who were milling about there.

Jasyn Lancaster was still partially seeing stars from his position, having been thrown from the galley seat that he'd been perched upon to the deck of the ship, the mug that he'd been holding having flown out of his hand and cracked in half on impact on the ther side of the deck.

Still, he managed to level a pretty clear glare in the direction of the departing Sith pilot's back,

"Bloody Kriffing Hell," he growled, ungracefully getting to his feet and shaking his head, trying to clear the residual fog. "This is panning out to be such fun."

Falling silent for a moment, Jasyn brushed perhaps invisible crumbs from his person, and turned to K'kihl and Cazun, who were likewise trying to collect themselves, one much more loudly than the other.

"So unfortunately we don't need a guide for this part, I am absolutely way too kriffing familiar with where we are going," he then said.

"Let's go see what we can do to get my buddy Matt out of this Hellhole...

...so we can get out of here too."

"I believe she departed some time before I discovered you in the dungeons," she finally replied. "It was just around that time that I... came upon the magicks of my, um... Teacher on Khar Delba. I remember that I had just been given a new lesson, one I was giving all my attention to, and wandered off in the wrong direction from my rooms."

She paused again, daring to look Matt directly in the face.

"It was then I heard your cries and moans, and took it upon myself to do something about it."

"But as for the Dark Lady...I don't know where she has gone, only that she has yet to return. Our Dark Mistress does not deign to inform the general populace of her actions, nor her reasoning behind them."

...and Lord Aelvedaar...or any other well known Sith, to begin with. After all, it wasn't the norm for a human to be on a Sith world. At least, not to his knowledge. After all, the Sith had only been back in existence for a few years which seemed to stretch out into eternity. Truthfully he had absolutely no idea how the Sith of the past interacted with the rest of the Galaxy. And as far as what the history books said, most thought that the Sith were a bunch of dark beings a la Darth Vader...

...not a race with their own worlds, with both their good and their bad and everything in between...

...just like every other race in the galaxy and beyond. After all, here was someone of the aforementioned race who had literally risked her own life to save him, a complete stranger.

Keeping her face averted, she kept up the pace and after a bit of time had passed finally answered.

"No, I have never been to Khar Delba," she said simply, even as the mere mention of the planet conjured up images of wonder and freedom before her eyes. For that indeed what the world had come to mean to her.

Freedom.

More so than the promises Freedon Naad had extended to her. His brand of freedom involved battles, and resistance, and standing against those he and his ilk deemed to be the epitome of what was wrong in the galaxy. RhoHalla, on the other hand, had no such grandiose ideas or goals.

I just want to be...

Free.

For if there was but a single thing her up until now short tenure within the walls of the Great Temple had taught her, it was that categorizing one another solely by bloodline or wealth was, well...

Wrong.

A person's worth should be measured by his heart, by how he treats another. Beings are beings, not things to be owned by another who by sheer luck of the draw was born in the right place at the right time!

She didn't mention any of this, for to be honest she had no idea of the philosophies held by the human. While he did seem kind, and kindness toward relative strangers tended to be a core personality characteristic, she still didn't know if his kindness toward her was simply because she had managed to free him.

I hope he will return that favor; oh, how I hope! she thought to herself, even as a smaller portion of her thoughts now attended to the matter of what she could do if she was indeed wrong about the man.

There is still my Teacher, those thoughts went on.

That one is most certainly kind...

...after all, she had never told him anything of herself other than that she worked in the Temple, and that she very much wanted to go to Khar Delba. And that she'd been receiving lessons from an unknown Sith, who was on Khar Delba.

At that thought he frowned. Who...???

Not wanting to alarm her with his concern regarding exactly who might be teaching her, he kept the question to himself. "Khar Delba is less populated and quieter than K'eel Doba," he said. "I've been there several times, with my friends and coworkers." Here he paused, realizing that, while he had noticed that RhoHolla had yet to tell him anything of herself beyond what she did in the Temple, that he hadn't her anything of himself either.

And considering she was relying on him to stick to his promise to get her off K'eel Doba and she really knew nothing of him, then perhaps he should.

"I'm from a world called Ando Prime in the Mid Rim," Matt then said, frowning a once more as he remembered his youth on the world known for Pod Races despite the cold and snow...and for the Hutts that controlled them. "I left there because there to get away from the crime and oppression of a species known as the Hutts," he then said. "They were cruel and they used sports as cover for criminal activities." Matt paused, shaking his head. "I've never been back there since I left."

Falling silent then he kept walking along behind RhoHolla, hoping that maybe something in what he'd said would help her feel more at ease knowing something of his less than stellar past.

Everyone wants to climb to a better lot in life, all at the expense of another she thought briefly before turning to Matt. Her rusty eyes were open, guileless, letting him seek the truth within their depths to which she was now giving voice.

"I- I feel the same as you," she finally stammered, then dropping her gaze to the ground. She pondered her toes for a moment before deciding that perhaps she could be just a bit more forthright with him.

"What I mean to say is that here, on this world, in the Temple where I..."

Where I what? Am employed? Where I work? Where I am enslaved?

"...live," she went smoothly on, "...there are those of higher caste who direct the life course of those who are of lesser position."

She paused fractionally before rushing on with,

"Such as I."

Now she raised her head, shot a clear yet somehow defensive look into Matt's eyes, and then turned away.

"Come, we must hasten. It is %) j'Ukin W'rwea to the Temple; we have some distance to travel if we are to arrive there before the Bells sound the Awakening."

And aside from all that, what she had said about the distance they had to travel yet was not what primarily caught his attention. Instead it was the fact that she was pretty much telling him she was treated as nothing more than an underling.

He frowned to himself. "You should have the right to make your own choices regarding how you lead your life, no matter what," Matt said in seeming non sequiter. "You are wise and you are kind..."

A protest escaped his lips in an involuntary chuff of air, and his arms flailed about more so than before. Gradually though, came the realization that the regiment had marched off on another mission, leaving him sore but at least able to breathe comfortably again.

He groaned, rolled over and propped himself up on one arm. His mouth tasted like old carpet, while in front of his squinting eyes three chair-backs strove valiantly to focus into one. He blinked, shook his head, and only by grabbing the back of said chair was able to haul himself into a sitting position.

Only then did he realize he was sitting quite unceremoniously upon the deck. Around him was silence, save for ticking and hissing as the now stationary Sith ship sat motionless, the thrum of movement removed from her being.

He strained to peer ahead; no sign of their pilot.

Again vowing to never touch that green stuff again, he hauled his carcass upright, and finally stood.

"OK, so we're here," he croaked through dry lips and an even drier throat.

But maybe in pieces... came a black thought. Seems every time you come to one of these damn Sith Worlds, it all starts with a bang. Kriffing hell.

"We need to head to the Temple and see if this Writ of Abeyance we have does what it's supposed to and helps us get my buddy back," he answered.

Or if it gets us imprisoned too.

Jasyn's brown eyes grew a shade darker, and he scowled a bit more before makinng a concerted effort to shake himself from his darkening thoughts.

"As for water, I'm sure there's some here, and we should all get some before we head out. This could take a while."

He paused, cocking his head towards K'kihl, suddenly wondering if the Insect indeed needed water at all...

...or what he ate, for that matter.

"At any rate, we should get going. I could be wrong, but I think it's early morning here, and who knows how long it'll take before we're seen..."

By whoever the Bloody Hell is in control here, Yikes...

"...once we get where we're going."

Be that as it may, K'kihl was certain water would solve his temporary woes, so he dismissed the first human and called out to Jasyn as he disappeared further to the aft of the craft.

"Seek the city, this must we do," he repeated, giving his mandibles another clatter as if to add emphasis to his lilting speech.

"How this is to be done..."

He paused fractionally, cocking his head to one side as eidetic memory reared up to serve him.

"A transport system there is, to the city us will take?" he queried. Other memories rose behind his chitinous eyes, memories of Dark Lords and portals and young human girls and others with whom he had thrown his lot since leaving Boss Sorben so long ago and so very far away.

"Here have I been, to this Great Temple. But traveled there did I by means not city transport.

"Find this where do we?"

Memories of this world before it had come to life again, full of Sith warriors and their ilk. Memories of a past seemingly ages ago, of Dark Lord Roan and Desolist and that Gravin Dark guy...

...and of what they intended to do to Galen, and how Terrin had taken steps to ensure her safety from them, including a very bold Alliance with the Sith. Of everything that followed...including Terrin's untimely death only to be later resurrected, of a seeming turn in the tides where the Sith revoked said Alliance...

...and of their continual entanglements with the Sith despite everyone's best efforts to get away. Of incoming Yuuzhan Vong and the Darker Realms...

Bloody Kriffing Hell.

"I actually lived here for some time," Jasyn admitted then, ignoring any oogling looks that might now be directed his way. He sighed. "It was a different time then," he said with no further explanation. For while K'kihl might have been aware that the Sith weren't always, well, here in this time, there was no real way to explain it to Cazun.

"It's really not too long of a trek," he then stated, "And pretty much gets us right to the Great Temple of the Warriors."

Teachings set aside, by dint of great effort she stepped emotionally back another step, and one more after that.

While Freedon and her Teacher strove to educate, to offer knowledge by which she could improve upon her life which indeed differed from what this human was doing...

All three treated her as a peer. As worthy of being educated, as worthy of being spoken to, not due to her elevation in life, or her position in her caste, or even due to whom she might know.

But simply because she was a living, breathing individual. A person.

Suddenly she yearned even more to be off of her home world, and swept far away. Perhaps to K'eel Doba, perhaps even farther.

Anywhere I can grow, as Freedon's words spoke of, for which my mentor's teachings prepare me, and what this human, this man...

She dropped her eyes, then cut Matt a suddenly shy look through her lashes.

May be promising...

She nipped that thought off in the bud, unwilling to set herself up for possible disappointment. The real probability that she might be able to finally step foot on the soil of Khar Delba was enough, there to seek her Teacher and continue her lessons in person.

She dared not hope for more.

"Thank you for your kind words," she finally replied, following that with, "Come. We have far to go. It is..."

She paused, realizing he probably couldn't translate the distance she had given him in her native tongue. Then she brightened. Working as minion in the Great Temple of the Warrior Clan every now and again introduced serving girls to beings from off-world, or at least to the knowledge of them. Her occasional contact with the other serving girls who had more contact with these strangers had taught her another lesson:

When these beings were directed to wait for those with whom they had come to speak, they were given the information in time.

Standard hours of time.

Or minutes, as the case may be. Or...

"We have at least 3-1/2 standard hours of fast travel ahead," she finally finished, mentally broadening said episode from her own travel-time of just over 2 standard hours. For this human wasn't Sith, and she doubted that even in the best physical condition he would be able to keep up with the pace she normally would have set.

"This is Captain Terrin Danner, requesting all fleet ships to engage in the immediate search and find of a unique crippled Mandalorian vessel- a class unknown but most likely assault - emitting an SOS. All should report back immediately with location of any SOS find within the area which is designated to this owner encrypted frequency."

Jasyn's frown deepened as he also received the attached map and wondered exactly what was going on. The last he'd heard from Terrin, Galen had gone off to Degobah or somewhere like that on her own, and Terrin and whomever was with him were going after her. There weren't a lot of logical reasons that Terrin would send a message of this variety across to EE, but Jasyn knew that one of those reasons could very likely be that Galen was in trouble. After all, they had been on Mandalore, and Jasyn could see her taking some sort of Mandalorian ship on her quest. She could fly anything, after all.

Jasyn keyed in Terrin's personal comm frequency. "Terrin, I just received the priority message, and I'm guessing this had to do with Galen. We've arrived on K'eel Doba and are en route to the Temple with a Writ of Abeyance from Lord Aelvedaar to hopefully get Matt. I don't know how much I can help from here, especialy without ship of my own, but if and when I think I am with someone who could help, I'll let you know. Keep me posted."

Sending the message on its way, Jasyn frowned once more, annoyed that he wasn't present to help the way he wanted, annoyed that he didn't have a ship (although, shucky darn, there were plenty of available ships in that spaceport back there...), and upset with himself and life in general that they still hadn't gotten to Matt.

((OCC: Terrin's message was incoming from Tales of Strength and Honor, posted on 1/15/19 in the CSWU.)))

Terrin pushed a button on his wristcomm to send a response.

"Galen left us on a Mandalorian assault vessel, and for reasons I'm not certain of it's been damaged and she's currently stranded with emergency power only, emitting a distress beacon. The map attached to my priority message indicates where we've narrowed down her location to be."

He paused, frowning, knowing how large that area was, in fact.

He was even able to pick up on the subtle undertones of worry and concern laced liberally through them both. Cocking his head a bit, he clattered his mandibles in the Verpine equivalent of "Excuse me," and coming up to him placed a manipulatory appendage on Jason's shoulder.

"The Boss--Terrin--has alerted the fleet of EE to look out for a Mandalorian ship emitting an SOS in a portion of the galaxy that is still extremely broad, to determine its location. Apparently Galen went off on her own on said ship and now it's damaged, operating on emergency power only. Terrin's trying to locate and get to her before it's too late."

Jasyn quieted at that for a few moments, his look darkening further. "If we could get in contact with them some way I know the Sith...Graysith, or Lord Aelvedaar, or even Aeylmaar....might be able to help us. But we're stuck here with no way that I'm aware of to get in contact with any of them, especially since our Sith escort has gone on his way to eat, drink, and be merry while we do what we're here to do."

Dammitall, lucky bastard. I'd like some Sith Brandy about now with tidings such as these...

Shaking himself from these thoughts, a possible idea niggled at the corners of Jasyn's mind. He didn't know if it was plausible, but he wondeered if there was any way they could contact Khar Delba from the Sith ship they'd just left behind. Of course, everything on its navboard and on the ship in general was written in Sith, but if anyone could figure it out, a Verpine sure could.

"Able to do, this perhaps I can," he stated almost to himself. Then he straightened, focusing on the human male.

"In ship like this, came to aid of Boss Sorben and I." His mandibles chattered as he waved a chitinous claw broadly behind them. "Did Galen."

He let his arm drop again, collected his thoughts before going on.

"Galen flew, but observant am I," he chattered. "Comm system, know placing, using of do I.

Would be fabulous to have a good linguist just lurking around. Or anyone who might know these ships well enough to translate the language. He'd only seen four humans he could think of who could fly those Sith fighters anyway: Graysith, Stargazer, Galen, and Erik Kartan. And at least couple of this group also probably knew how to contact Lord Aelvedaar anyway...

...and could probably help locate Galen themselves.

He scowled. "And who the kriffing Hell knows what comm frequency to use to get in contact with Lord Aelvedaar or Aeylmaar on Khar Delba anyway? After all, that's not how any of them communicate, having other ways of staying in contact."

He paused, chewing at his bottom lip again, trying to come up with anything. "I don't know. Many of the Sith I've encountered do speak basic, and maybe there's a reply button on that comm unit that may have some frequently used frequencies on it. I kinda doubt there are many other than ones here in system, although I suppose I could be very wrong.

"Other than maybe finding someone who knows both languages and knows how to contact a Dark Lord, or can figure out some other way to get in contact with him or Aeylmaar, I have no idea how we're going to be of any help until we get back to Khar Delba. Unless...."

He trailed, a crazy idea popping in his head. "There are other ships in the spaceport, and I'm certain some of them have basic as their primary language. And based on the fact they are here, clearly indicating their owners had contact with the Sith, we may be able to use what's in their comm systems to get a message off to the Dark Lord, perhaps. After all, he was here 4,000 years ago just like whoever flew those ships here obviously were."

It was a crazy idea, Jasyn knew. Maybe too crazy. But at least it was something.

"Know not I Sith, subtleties of request then to state. But Basic know they...

"It would seem.

Jasyn felt stupid just saying it. After all, the Dark Lord had sent them with a Writ of Abeyance for Matt, which probably should...or at least, hopefully should... deem them worthy enough to request to make contact with said Dark Lord upon their arrival at the Temple.

With that the somewhat taciturn Verpine turned now sending his curious gaze out over the tarmac which spread like a concrete apron all around the little Sith ship they had traveled in. Filled with ships of every make, some fairly new, some so old as to be new to him, they all captured his inquisitive attention like a t'plykk fruit captures that of a blarnworm.

He clattered his mandibles again, now waving one manipulatory appendage about, encompassing the entirety of the spaceport with that one simple motion.

"Besides," he went on. "To which ship go we? Odd attentions, thus present we there. Abeyance Writ then, perhaps overlooked would be by...

"Authorities."

He waggled the claws on the end of that appendage, now indicating by that subtle movement the obviously authoritarian Sith Warriors who strode purposefully about, gleaming weaponry in hand, looking more than capable of keeping everyone in line should the necessity arise.

Jedi, perhaps even...

He didn't voice that thought, but gave his claws another emphatic wiggle.

"To them, perhaps, should we go," he announced, letting that appendage now drop lightly to his side. "To them, Writ must be revealed. They perhaps, then directive and assistance can give. For..."

He shot a shining look Jasyn's way, all the more inscrutable for the fact that his chitinous eye coverings simply were incapable of revealing emotion.

Only reflecting it.

"For," he continued smoothly, "Simple travel to transport, non-Sith we, more queries raise perhaps would be. To authority go, to greater authority gain. By this."

He pointed to the Writ clutched tightly in Jasyn's hand.

"Then by all authority protected, can we request in honor a bit more help giving...

"Perhaps."

He fell silent then, now looking about himself to make certain their new companion had departed the ship with him and Jasyn, and hadn't fallen back into his brandy-induced hangover. To his amused relief, Cazun indeed stood nearby, although still looking a bit worse for wear.

Jasyn frowned but nodded, turning his attentions to the Sith Warriors here and there that he had up until this point been trying his best to ignore. One way or another, said Warriors were the first logical point of contact they had to hopefully get to Matt and to potentially get a message to Lord Aelvedaar.

But that didn't mean he liked it. But what was that thing that Galen was always saying? In for a credit...

Jasyn worked up his nerve, arching an eyebrow K'kihl and Cazun's way, then cocking his head in the general direction of the closest Warrior. Steeling himself then, he turned, knowing the others would follow, and approached the Warrior, praying to all the Fates and any gods that would listen that the Writ he had clutched in his hand would do what it was supposed to do.

As he approached, the Warrior stopped, gleaming spear in hand. Jasyn did his best not to think about the spear...and the other weapons the guy had...and looked at him directly, trying to radiate as much open honesty as he could.

Dammitall, this stuff was Terrin and Matt's fortes, not his. But he had to do his best. For Matt, and quite possibly for Galen.

"I am Jasyn Lancaster of Eagle Enterprises, he opened with. "My friends and I have come from Khar Delba under the auspices of Dark Lord Aelvedaar, to retrieve a friend that is here," he explained, stretching out his hand that yet held the Writ of Abeyance and offering it up for the Warrior's inspection, and then falling silent, waiting.

Displacement.

No, having something of a brain within his horned and armored head, at least more of a brain than those of his brawny brothers, he had risen to his place by his ability to think.

This made him a valuable asset within the entirety of the Clan, one valuable enough to have others keeping shadowy, watchful eyes pinned upon him and his career with a vow that he kept along the path he had chosen.

Thus it was that his attention was, albeit somewhat idly, captured by the emergence of the pilot of one newly arrived Sith ship, one whose origin was clearly known to him. His attention was peaked, however, as three beings never been seen before by him followed at length upon the disappearing heels of that pilot.

Critical thinking skills demanded a bit more incoming information; thus he merely stood quietly, now turning in place to scan the immediate surroundings for any other possible surprises, only to find none. He kept slitted eyes focused sideways upon the little group, however, waiting to see if they would present any... furtiveness in their actions.

A few moment's time assured him that did not appear to be the case. There was nothing remiss elsewhere that he could see visually; a quick thought out to those warriors dispersed throughout the great vastness that was Ch'arlingua assured him even more when quick reply after quick reply merely barked the Sith equivalent that all was status quo.

A movement from the group at last. Now he turned, one clawed hand holding his battle spear ready, it's butt against the tarmac, its gleaming, razored point rising a full meter above his already imposing 2-1/2 meter frame. His head tilted down as the threesome drew near, horns on his head casting the shadow of a buck in rut upon the approaching beings, his smoked eyes now glinting sternly down as they came to a halt in front of him.

Eventually one spoke to him, held out a paper in his direction. His eyes moved from encompassing the entirety of the group to falling deeply into those of the speaker, reading so easily through the facade of bravery he presented into the core of his being where something rather small shivered and gulped and quivered.

Yet he spoke.

Something equivalent to a smile curled the corner of the Warrior's lip, and his clawed hand took up the Writ. For long moments he stared over the top the paper in his hand, still pinning Jasyn's eyes with his own, before letting that gaze drop to quickly scan the words upon it. A quick tendril of Sith magick reached out, touched it, verifying its authenticity.

He straightened further, still looking down at the group, now turning his head to take its occupant's in one by one.

A Verpine. In the company of two humans...

He nodded once, slowly, as if all the data coming into his warrior's brain assimilated into one whole which said...

"In that direction, you will find a concourse."

The voice with which he deigned to speak was deep, rasping, and oozing with military might and power. He continued.

"Follow it to it's end, where it meets at the junction of a cross-concourse. Turn to your right. It will take you to the transports. Simply input your destination, it will take you there.

"All transports go to Phrinnchatka," he finished almost as an afterthought as a tiny bit of his imposing mein loosened enough to let them know he knew they were strangers there. But that mein didn't loosen to the extent that the more overwhelming sense of Prove the Dark Lord's trust in you correct which filled the rest of it, all rippled muscle and now fired eyes, wasn't allowed free rein.

He handed the Writ back to Jasyn, made a quarter turn, pointed with his spear, and fell silent, his eyes never leaving the group, his body loose yet ready to leap should the necessity suddenly arise.

He paused then, considering the idea of entering the Temple on their own...

especially since he easily recalled who was in charge last he knew.

Fat chance there would be any wisdom in approaching the Temple willy-nilly, non-Sith as they were. Especially not on this Warrior World of the Sith.

"I would not wish to go to the Temple or seek audience with your leader unannounced."

Which quickly ratcheted down into mere annoyance.

One hand shot out, appropriating the paper from Jasyn's suddenly nerveless fingers only to literally shove it beneath the human's very nose. He held it there a moment, where it rustled with the quick exhalation shot upon it by the human.

"Have you not a Writ?" he almost snarled, then pulling it back from literally beneath the man's nose he held it to him with the merest speck of something approaching civility.

"All transports go to Phrinnchatka. Input your destination! Have you no ears, nor wit to understand a simple directive?"

Letting his spear now slide gracefully back to come to rest against his shoulder, he reached out with that hand and grasped Jasyn's. He followed that motion by shoving the Writ back into the hand he held, following it by a squeeze of his own long, clawed fingers which crumpled the Writ somewhat by the fingers he forced to take another hold of it.

He then regained his original military stance, the acute movement of standing rigidly upright serving to send the spear into the readiness of his grip once again. Then deigning to say no more, he simply turned in utter dismissal of the group and went off to continue his watchful guard over Ch'arlingua.

When the Sith strode away all muscle and horn and claw and weapon, exuding confidence and annoyance which left an almost palpable trail in his wake, he leaned in closer to the other human.

"I thought you said you'd been here before," he said in a low voice, the words sliding sideways from his lips even as his eyes looked in the direction toward which the warrior had pointed, to see if the concourse he spoke of was actually there or not.

Hell. Kriffing Hell.

Then he heard Cazun's statement. "Yeah, I have," he commented a bit flatly. "I just thought..."

He trailed, shaking his head, not being one to be really good at making the best decisions about how to approach things as it would clearly appear. "...oh, nevermind," he said, sighing.

Shrugging a fraction then turning, he lead the way to move along the concourse as the Warrior had indicated, turning also as indicated. With effort he wiped the scowl off his face before they made the final approach to the transport.

How the Hell had he forgotten how the Sith could be so touchy? He could really use a drink...

Still, Jasyn did know the transport system in Char'lingua well. He'd been on it before several times, and had used it to access the Temple. So, in short, he knew where the transport went, and which buttons to push.

He was just trying to be sure to maintain the balance between what he knew and giving the Sith the control he thought they'd want.

Dammit, all that time he'd been sitting back, a happy drunk, while Terrin, Matt, Galen, and whoever else took care of everything. Maybe if he'd paid a little more attention...

He stepped into the transport, followed by K'kihl and Cazun. After pressing the keys that he knew in turn would take them to the Temple, Jasyn sat back in a seat as the transport began on its merry way towards the Great Temple. It shouldn't takee all that long for them to arrive, and Jasyn needed to collect himself before their next necessary Sith encounter.

On Khar Delba, when they had gone after the Nar Kelba, and later when Terrin had brought them back to find Galen. And here, when they had lived in the capital city of Princhatka, before its civilization had been awoken.

Matt wondered if RhoHolla had any idea of the fact that, until not that long ago, her species hadn’t lived for 4,000 years. Considering what she had said…or at least implied…about her station he doubted very much that she had been deemed worthy enough to know anything about it, unless her unknown teacher had said something of it to her.

He frowned at that. It wasn’t fair. If the Sith wanted to come back as the benevolent rulers they once were, they needed treat those of their own better than this. Eventually, they would find out one way or another, unless they were left sequestered on the Sith Worlds forever. And with some things that Matt was at least once aware of that were coming down the spacelanes, that wasn’t a very reasonable idea. They would never be prepared for what was incoming if they didn’t know what time they were in…

He pursed his lips then, turning fractionally to look at her as he continued to move. “I’ve been told your peoples were great rulers of the galaxy once,” he said then. “My comrades and I have been working alongside Lord Aelvedaar and Graysith for some time. When I left from Khar Delba, something had blocked all magicks from being used. I know this is not hte case now...”

Here he trailed a moment, recalling how RhoHolla had been able to shield them from prying eyes and ears as she took him from the dungeons, "...but it's strange that it has taken this long for anyone to come after me. I'm hoping nothing ill has befallen them."

((OCC: Follow Matt, RhoHolla, Jasyn, Cazun, K'kihl, the Ancient Sith Warriors, and Freedon Naad to The Days of Future Past in this same forum. This thread is gettng looooong!!!)))