Phalomir stepped into the chamber of Aelvedaar, following Jharmeen and Rykounagin, and turned to look for the Dark Lord of the Sorcerers…

…only to find a deep, lush forest that surrounded them. Jharmeen was also looking about, her face growing pale. Phalomir heard the buzz of a fly pass by, and his gaze followed it upwards. A flock of large birds flew overhead, visible only for a moment as they passed over the small opening in the tall treetops. Smaller birds chirped overhead and the rustle of a startled animal echoed from a crop of dry leaves to the left.

Phalomir stepped close to Jharmeen and gently touched her shoulder. He could sense the nearby energy of Rykounagin as well.

“What has happened?” he asked.

Before an answer could come, a strange, mournful sound flowed from the distance, as if a feudal horn called out the arrival of royal visitors -- or perhaps signaled the advancing charge of an unseen army.

“Jharmeen?” Phalomir said, unknowingly surveying the heavy forest of Endor.

"However did we get here?" she closely restated Phalomir's question, now turning her wide stare in his direction. "I did nothing to alter the portal, it was open and awaiting our return to it. But, no matter," she continued. "I can easily..."

She paused, her hand likewise halting in mid-rise.

"Dare I create another portal?" she wondered aloud, the wide-eyed look segueing into one that was a little bit uneasy around the edges.

I step out from the rapidly closing Portal literally onto thin air. My questing foot flails instinctively; I reach out with both hands, seeking purchase on anything I might find, that I should not tumble ignominiously to the ground.

Which, shockingly enough, I see peeping up at me through the leafy green canopy into which I have stepped.

Luckily, there are all about me branches aplenty; as the Portal schlppts into obscurity I find myself holding onto a particularly sturdy one, some twenty meters from the forest floor. For it is within a forest that I find myself; cursing now at the inattention I paid in my youth to survival classes brought to Khar Delba by the warriors, I kick my feet, trying to swing my body onto the branch I am holding. It is a difficult feat for one who has passed through the years and experiences such as I have; with another loud curse I let my feet fall back under me, dangling now from the branch like a hornet's nest.

The thought flashes into my head that I can use the All to relieve myself of the unexpected predicament I am in. Common sense, however, rears its calming head, reminding me that the Portal I had opened had been done so with that wonderful power.

And it had led me astray; there was no guarantee that any of my All-powers were now such as they were. And at this dangling moment, along with this uneasy realization came the further one that I did not know if it ever would again.

A faint, not quite felt image of a pair of immense eyes niggles subliminally in my mind, even while my conscious mind, all too aware of my predicament, persuades me once again in the attempt to gain a foothold upon the branch.

Swinging back and forth, I grunt and curse, and in my opinion make entirely too much noise.

“I do not know,” he said. “I assume nothing like this has happened before? Could something have interfered with the portal – intercepted and redirected it somehow? Or could -- could the All be failing? I just do not know. Although opening another portal to test, perhaps, may not be a bad idea. But then again…”

Phalomir looked around once more.

"I cannot see the sky well enough to see how many suns there are," she said simply. "That would help in determining which planet -- if planet this is -- that we have landed upon. Assuming, of course, that if it has multiple suns all are presently up. For at least it is daylight."

She waved a slim hand about, indicating the light level around them. Dim it was, but light nevertheless.

"Further, I have no idea how late in the day it is. I only know that it promises to become very dark when night does fall here, to judge by the size and density of the forest we have found ourselves in. And who knows what else might be creeping about in these woods along with the dark when the sun finally sets.

"I heard a noise as I stepped through the Portal, something unnatural, not produced by wildlife. It almost sounded like trumpeting; did either of you hear it? If trumpet it was, if we can determine from which direction it came from, perhaps we will find something in the way of intelligent life. Then we might find out where we are, and perhaps stand a greater chance of leaving this place and continuing on our journey, or returning to Khar Delba at the very least."

She paused again, casting about herself, seeking the tiniest of non-natural noises. But if there had been such when they first set foot upon the rich, loamy soil it was now remaining stubbornly mute. She sighed, and lowered her head.

"I fear to use the All in any manner until I know it is safe to do so," she finally said. "Perhaps either of you have something more helpful to our current cause?

I sniffed the air, then spit on my fingertip, and held it up to the air for a few moments, before bringing it back to my lips and tasting it, and letting a hint of magic flow through it.

“The horn sounded as if it were coming from--” Phalomir’s sentence was cut short by another blast of the horn, sounding from the woods in front of the group.

“That did not seem very far away,” he said, scanning the trees. Another horn sounded from the left, as if in answer. The blast was two notes, the second drawn out. The first horn sounded again, this time even closer.

“Rykounagin,” he said softly, “do you see anything? I thought for a second I saw something in the trees before us, a movement in the canopy.”

Phalomir’s keen ears caught a rustling in the treetops above them, and his eyes jerked upwards as he stepped back closer to Jharmeen. His hand went instinctively back to find her shoulder, and he crouched slightly into a defensive posture as he called forth his magick to be ready.

A shrill call sounded from above, from several directions, as if a flock of large birds had been startled into flight and called their anger to the world. But it was not birds that screeched, for in the blink of an eye Phalomir could see a blur of movement as many small furry animals came bounding from the treetops, swinging on vines, and descended upon the group.

Phalomir watched one dark furry shape as it launched itself from directly in front and above and came flying feet first at the Dark Lord. The small animal screamed as if calling out a war cry, and crashed feet first into Phalomir. It bounced back several feet and thudded onto the ground, stunned for a second. It shook its head vigorously back and forth and sat up, looking at the wide-eyed Phalomir.

“Bee-ja wawa!” it exclaimed. Many more of the small furry creatures now encircled the three. Some of them carried small sticks with sharp points, others swung slings loaded with rocks. All of them took a threatening posture.

Phalomir glanced to Rykounagin, who was encircled by a group of the furry Ewoks, each threatening with their spears. Rykounagin was giving the brave little warriors a bemused smirk, and Phalomir turned his attention back to the task at hand. The Ewok had stubbornly entangled itself in Jharmeen’s hair and would not let go.

“Enough of this!” bellowed Phalomir. “Who is charge here?”

The Ewoks stopped and looked about at each other. Small voices muttered quietly as some of the warriors leaned close to each other and spoke. Finally one Ewok, slightly larger than the others, stepped forward and planted his spear, point up, into the ground before him. He pointed at Phalomir and Jharmeen, then to Rykounagin, then grunted and pointed into the forest. He repeated the gestures, and the grunt, then folded his arms together and waited.

“It could be he wants us to go into the forest with them,” said Phalomir. “Or we are being sent away. Either way, I do not think they understand the language common to the spacefaring races.”

Another Ewok, small and dark, uttered a harsh word to the larger one and stamped his foot. The larger Ewok turned and grunted, causing the smaller to growl in disdain. Then, unexpectedly, the smaller Ewok drew his spear up and charged at Phalomir. The Ewok was fast, and Phalomir was still trying to disentangle Jharmeen from the Ewok in her hair, and he did not have the time or stability to evade the rush of the little warrior. The spear drove into his leg, causing Phalomir to yelp in pain. He quickly bent down and yanked the stick from his leg.

The larger Ewok ran to the smaller one and knocked it to the ground, uttering a harsh stream of strange words at it. It looked up at Phalomir and again pointed to the woods. Phalomir took the small spear in his hand and snapped it in half, dropping the splintered wood and looking sullenly at the Ewok.

"Indeed," she said to further cement her agreement. "Although the odds of whether or not we can actually depart from this moon by conventional means are fairly low. Rykounagin is correct, they do not have a great degree of technology here."

She paused, her brow furrowing as she thought further.

"However," she went on, brightening somewhat, "as I recall my history I believe there used to be an old rebel base here. Perhaps we might find something useful there, if we can find where it is."

She turned to the closest Ewok and gave it her most brilliant smile; the little being merely rolled its head from side to side and chattered back at her. It held out the short spear it was carrying, and shook it.

"Perhaps that is the gesture to go, as you suggest, my Lord," she smiled, then stepped forth. As the others followed, however, their progress was stopped short as two of the creatures ran up and held twin spears parallel to the ground, separating Phalomir from Rykounagin and the Dark Lady. The odd, muttering language coming from them intensified, and as it finally ceased they each gave their spears one great shake.

Graysith looked to him, her violet eyes wide with concern.

"It would appear they do not desire that you come with us," she observed, her voice low with repressed dismay.

“My patience grows thin with these Ewoks,” he said, his eyes narrowing. “But my physical appearance has indeed been the cause of concern for more than one of the primitive races. The stretch of influence of the Sith race throughout the ages has touched many such peoples, and our abilities have been thought of nothing less than magic. For good reason, of course. But in effort to keep the primitives in the dark, our ancestors would spread stories of gods and demons. Throughout the primitive races, it seems the image of the Sith – red skin and horns – has become associated with one or the other.”

Phalomir looked about the lines of Ewoks, noticing now the trepidation and concern from the masses. Smaller Ewoks huddled together, some holding each other with short stubby arms and looking at him with huge eyes.

“I would guess by their reaction,” he continued, “I am taken for a demon, and you are my prisoners, in which case they are rescuing you. They seem to show some familiarity to humans, which follows if there was a rebel base here.”

A wry smile crossed Phalomir’s lips as his eyes met with Jharmeen’s.

"He is with us," she said, now indicating Phalomir with a graceful wave of one hand all the while keeping a calm and obviously not fear-induced smile planted upon her features. "He means you no harm."

The creatures only stared, muttering and growling amongst themselves. At length the one Phalomir had taken to be a leader stepped forward, at first a touch hesitant but then growing bolder with each step he took. For the great and fierce-looking entity was still held in thrall to his magicians powerful poking spears.

He came to a halt in front of the massive Sith, and tilted his head back until his beady little black eyes came into firm contact with Phalomir's green ones. Once eye contact was established he let loose with a torrent of words, finishing with an odd clicking sound and a gesture to the spear bearers.

The spears were shaken, but remained as they were. The little leader came over to Graysith and grabbed her hand, tugging upon it briefly before letting it go. He looked to the quiet Rykounagin, eyed him for a moment or two, and then chattered something at him, underscoring his words by nodding his head in a particular direction.

The massed Ewoks moved aside, revealing a well camoflagued yet equally well-worn path leading off into the dense forest. The leader whirled about, chattered again, raised his own stubby spear, and then turned back about and marched off down the path, followed by his retinue of upper echelon Ewoks, a few of which encircled Graysith and in this manner gently entreated her to follow.

I grunt, gain my feet. Then with nowhere in particular to go, I begin heading off through the heavily canopied dimness around me.

Phalomir paused, a wash of nausea coming over him. He looked forward to see Jharmeen also pausing, as if something was suddenly not quite right.

He began to speak, but before any sound escaped his throat a searing pain raced through his head. His hands flew upwards to clench his skull and, letting out an instinctive shout of pain, he fell to his knees. His head fell to his knees as he held it tightly, squeezing as if to keep it from bursting apart

Indeed, something inside Phalomir’s psyche had burst apart. A small ball of energy, held firmly intact by the power of his magick and his will, now with no such magick to secure it, suddenly burst. He fought to remain conscious, and strove to keep his own thoughts separated from the strange insanity that had been held in check for so long.

This energy given life by all of the pain, suffering, and insanity that Jharmeen had once endured when she first became Lord Aelvedaar’s adept, killed her father, and assumed the role she now lived. It was held in check inside of her by Aelvedaar’s magick until Phalomir inadvertently freed it, and to save her life he took it into himself.

Another scream pierced the forest air, and Phalomir now stood. The Ewoks looked at him, and to each other, in fear and confusion. Phalomir’s face was a twist of pain and anguish, and his green eyes seemed to glow with a violet hue as blood filled them. He threw his hands down and hunched, turning quickly in a circle to see each of the Ewoks around him.

But it would have made no difference if they were Ewoks, Jedi Knights, or a herd of banthas. He saw only distorted images, wavering back and forth, and all threatening. A small bit of his mind knew what was happening, but the attack had come so suddenly, with no warning, it now cowered in the dark recesses of the Dark Lord’s thoughts.

But was in turn flung back as one massive arm whipped around, catching her low across the torso, sending her crashing to the ground where, whatever pain she felt being ignored, she scrambled sideways, propping herself on her arms, staring at him now with mouth agape.

"He- he has gone insane!" The words came out quietly enough, but pierced her heart as surely as if each was composed of an entire regiment of the Darker Realm's demons.

"He- he doesn't know me..."

“You made me KILL him!” the words shouted from his lips. “To save your own selfish race you MADE ME KILL HIM!”

He whirled around and around, watching the distorted figures run away from him. Red, so red, all of them. Those selfish, selfish animals! Users, nothing but users of the innocent, corruptors! They would corrupt no more, would never destroy the life of another for their own gain!

Phalomir stepped forward to pursue the retreating figures, pausing to let loose an animalistic scream, then ran two steps before falling to the ground.

That bit of sanity, now recovering, took steps to stop the mind from being totally lost. It was difficult, and Phalomir struggled with a losing battle to keep a semblance of sanity. But for the moment he lay on one arm, not moving, his face set in an intense stare at the ground.

Deep down, something very angry began to scream back, in self defense.

"Not my fault," she whispered, her eyes wide with pain and tears. "Not my fault!"

And with that she scrambled to her feet, looking about herself, her breath catching for the deep ache she felt in the area of her diaphragm. Clutching her side, she took a hesitant step backwards, then another, and yet another.

She had to do something, find someone. There had to be SOMETHING on this moon to help.

But she instinctively knew that to stay with him, filled as he was with her own hate and insanity, would not only risk bodily injury to herself... but might be risking her very life.

But how? A demon was not flesh, and could not succumb to the spear and the sling. It would take more than this to free the tribe from the menace that now threatened them.

But now the screams from the clearing stopped, replaced by the crunch of leaves and stifled sobbing that drew near the tree.

The female! She had escaped! If any would know how to defeat this demon, it would be her!

Wakti waited until the female was near enough, then jumped from the tree and landed on the path in front of her. He rolled to his shoulder and then popped up to face her. He held his spear to his side, but pointed a short furry finger at her.

And the next said path was suddenly blocked by... something she entirely leaped over, coming to an astounded halt several feet behind where it had popped unexpectedly into being. There she once again fell, the pain in her side doubled now for how much she was gasping for air; for a moment all she could do was close her eyes and lay there, spent.

When she had regained some of her breath, she opened her eyes... only to have her view of the canopy blocked by something beady eyed and fuzzy.

"Nub nub, eee AWAH!" it scolded her, shaking its tiny spear in her face.

“Dee na-go hoosy etow chakta,” he said, pointing into the clearing. The blank look on the female’s face was not encouraging. He then had an idea, and held his hands over his head like horns and stomped in place, growling. He then stopped and pointed back into the clearing.

He then motioned with his spear like he was stabbing at something, then pointed back into the clearing again.

“Grrrrr!” he mimicked, then stabbed at the air again, then closed his eyes and stuck out his tongue, mimicking the look of something dead. He then open an eye to see if the female understood.

He was aware that Jharmeen had backed away and vanished. He was actually glad of this, for his control was precarious and her safety was in jeopardy. As he fought for control, he tried to fathom what had happened. His magick was gone, he felt this. The pure, physical strength that had long been overshadowed by his energies now coursed freely, though.

He felt control returning slowly, and he stood. His fist clenched, he scanned the area with wild eyes, trying hard to focus on the shapes of the trees. His control loosened, and waves of grief and guilt battered at him. His eyes filled with water as he realized the hopelessness of his situation, and a rage was mixed with the knowledge that his actions were done of his own free will.

These are not my thoughts… came a tiny voice in his head, but it echoed hollowly in Phalomir’s scattered mind.

Gods, it hurts! I felt cold and alone, yet my body was on fire.

I felt that I was on my knees, face being brushed by the earth below it, eyes watering in pain.

“Wermo!” he exclaimed. He looked up, rolling his small eyes, and sighed. Then he looked back to the female.

“Acha,” he said. “Kosh E s’sheesht graks?”

Again, silence.

“Kosh?!”

Wakti folded his arms and tapped his hairy foot. He then held his fingers up to his head, pointing outward to look like horns sticking from his forehead. He then growled loudly and stomped around in a circle. He then pointed into the clearing where Phalomir had been kneeling, not noticing the giant Sith had moved away.

“Graks”, he said, then growled again. “Graks!”

He then lifted his spear and pointed into the air. He stabbed the empty air several times, then looked at the female.

“E s’sheesht!” he said, then repeated it as he stabbed the air again.

Sitting up, she cocked her head and pinned the little fuzzball with a stare that was still partly fearful, but mostly curious.

"Graks?" she repeated, making a question out of the word.

"GRAKS" he growled, making a deep gutteral sound. He stopped, seeing if she understood, then sighed. He walked over to the prone Lady and plopped down on his behind next to her.

He folded his arms and stared at the flamed-haired lady. His attention was caught by her, and his wish to hunt the demon took a side for the moment. He had never actually seen a creature like this, but something he recalled from the stories of the old ones made him think...

"Yes, human," she replied in a quiet voice, for the little Ewok did seem somewhat on the flighty side, and she had no wish to startle it any further than the graks apparently had.

"I am a human. You--"

Now she lifted a finger and pointed it at the little being.

"You are Ewok. I am Jharmeen."

She pointed to herself, then back to the Ewok.

"You are--? And, Gr--"

She bit off the remainder of the word, even though she desperately wished to discover how Phalomir fared. For the pantomime of the Ewok was efficiently presented; she had no doubt as to who it was that went by the Ewok term "graks."

Whatever that in itself meant, which could be anything from monster to god to dead...

She gulped, then pulled her mind away from the latter thought, and repeated her own little pantomime, hoping that since the Ewok knew -- albeit loosely -- the term human, it might know other words in Basic. Perhaps a working conversation could eventually begin, the first step in establishing any sort of relationship with another being.

Much less the little fact that it would make seeking assistance from said being much, much easier.

“Ewok,” he said, slapping his chest. “Wakti,” he said slowly, again patting his chest. “Wakti!”

The Ewok then leaned in and touched one of the flamed colored knots of hair that tangled over Jharmeen’s shoulder. He let out a breath of wonder, then looked her in the eyes.

“Jar mee?,” he asked. Then he noticed a bright red scratch on her neck, apparently from a stray branch or bush. He pointed to it and made a moaning sound, and gently added “Seefo Jar mee.”

His eyes then grew sharp, as if something occurred to him. He rolled away and grabbed his spear, and sat shaking it in the air above his head.

“Graks! Graks seefo Jar mee!” Finishing with a growl, he puffed his chest and patted it proudly.

He paused, seeing that she did not quite understand. He put his spear down and scooted closer to her again.

“Wakti,” he said, pointing to himself. “Jar mee,” he said, pointing to Jharmeen. “Graks,” he said, pointing into the woods from where they had come.

"No, Wakti," she replied, letting her hand drop to lay quietly in her lap. "Graks-, ahh, Phalomir would not hurt me; umm, Graks no seefo Jarmee."

She shook her head, but stopped. Under normal circumstances she knew Phalomir would die for her, would do so before he would allow so much as a gleeberfly to light upon her face. But now--

Her shoulders slumped a little, and her eyes grew dark with worry and frustration. How would she be able to get across so difficult a concept to the little Ewok? And even if she could, what could they do?

Why was Phalomir acting as he was?

She shook her head, rocked back on her heels.

"Jarmee no seefo Wakti, Graks no seefo Jarmee," she finally said, giving one emphatic nod in Wakti's direction.

“Graks-- Graks Thallomeer?” he asked at length. “No seefo Thallomeer?”

Another moan escaped Wakti’s mouth as he sat back, pondering. Some of the words this human spoke were known to him, for the old ones told tales of the tall ones who fought with the tribes to cast out the White Monsters – the GohGraks – who invaded their sacred forest three generations hence. But the tall ones had not come to Endor for ages, and only the oldest of the elders spoke the strange language. The line of Wicket.

And not one of the ancients was alive now…

…except for Eensha!

“Wermo!” exclaimed Wakti, slapping his forehead with his furry hand. He then stood, excited, and wrapped his arm around Jharmeen’s shoulder. “Eensha! Chak chak! Treekthin Eensha, dobra Eensha! Jar mee, Wakti treekthin EENSHA!”

He pulled lightly on her arm, trying to make her stand. When she resisted, he paused and put his hand to his mouth and pointed at his lips. Working his jaw up and down, he made a few nonsense noises, then pointed back at her.

"Eensha?" she finally repeated, giving her head a quick little shake. The movement sent a flaming wave rippling through the tangle of her hair.

"Eensha? I'm afraid I don't understand; but--"

She smiled and reached out to Wakti.

"You certainly seem extremely adamant about this 'eensha,' whatever that is."

Or possibly whoever, for that matter.

Now she reached up and placed her fingers lightly atop Wakti's lips, then quickly moved them to her own.

"If you mean 'speaking' when you do this, then yes, let us go to, ahh-- wherever or whoever 'eensha' is and speak."

She only hoped that whatever would be spoken, if indeed that was what Wakti was going on about, would be something along the line of a true conversation, and not just another exchange of inexplicable gibberish. Nevertheless, she rose gracefully to her feet, and taking Wakti's stubby hand in her own allowed the Ewok to lead her away.

Finally Wakti stopped, and looked out into a clearing. He pointed with a grand wave of his arm at a huge, ancient looking tree in the center of the clearing. The tree was enormous, the trunk easily 6 or 7 meters in diameter at the base. The branches reached for the heavens, and spread in a canopy that shaded the entire clearing.

“Kna Naa,” whispered Wakti, falling to one knee. He bowed his head for a moment, then stood and turned back to Jharmeen. “Kna Naa, Jar Mee.”

He then turned back to the clearing and pointed to a thatched hut on the edge of the clearing. Smoke curled up from a cook fire in the front of the hut, and a small Ewok sat stirring something in a stone pot.

Wakti took Jharmeen’s hand once more and led her to the hut. The small Ewok was very young looking, and was very surprised to see the odd pair. After speaking a few words in a reverent voice, Wakti pointed to Jharmeen.

“Eensha,” he said. The young Ewok shook her head in protest, but Wakti repeated himself more sternly. Again the younger Ewok protested, this time spouting off a few words of her own.

A raspy voice called out from inside the hut, and the young Ewok sighed and bowed her head to Wakti. Wakti huffed, then led Jharmeen to the door.

Inside the hut, lying on a bed of soft furs, was a very gray, very old-looking Ewok. He was covered with an old red cloth that resembled silk, and wore a necklace of teeth and bones. The bed was supported by a short pole in each corner, and set on top of each was a battered white helmet similar to those of the Empire’s stormtroopers.

The old Ewok gave a wide-eyed look of astonishment, then settled into a more regal posture.

“Wakti,” he said. “Goot.”

Wakti bowed his head and went into a long explanation to the older Ewok. When he was finished, the elder looked into Jharmeen’s eyes and smiled.

"Eensha," she said in a reverent tone, now coming forward and settling down on her knees in front of the tiny beings strangely-postered bed. For a moment she remained quietly there, her head bowed respectfully. Then she raised it, and looked Eensha steadily in the eye.

"I come here," she began, placing her hand atop her breast.

"I know not why. I make Door to Other Place, but Door brings me here.

"Why, I know not..."

But either way, it would be one step closer toward seeking assistance. At least she fervently hoped so.

Raising her head, she nodded politely at Eensha.

But that man was relentless in his taunts, showing his face here and there and disappearing, only to reappear a hundred meters further into the woods from where he just stood. Frustration had crept in on Phalomir, and every sighting of this old man brought the rage closer to the surface.

The man said nothing, but only stared with a quiet sadness that was maddening. Phalomir felt the sting of pain and betrayal in that stare, and wished he could catch the man and ask why this torment was taking place. And to ask for help in understanding where he was and what he was doing here…

Then the man appeared clearly before him. He stood down a row of tall trees, no more than 20 meters away, facing Phalomir and standing very still.

“You!” cried Phalomir. “Who are you? What do you want from me?!”

The man cocked his head and regarded Phalomir, but remained silent. His features were clear, and Phalomir felt that he knew this man. The line of the jaw, the curve of the nose, it all seemed to be so close to his memory, yet…

Galen! Yes, the brow reminded him of Galen, and the chin, that delicate chin…

Jharmeen.

“You are Jharmeen’s father,” Phalomir stated. The man lowered his head slightly, casting his eyes to the ground. “But you are dead,” Phalomir continued. “She told me you were dead…”

The man raised his head and stared with steely, accusing eyes.

“No,” said Phalomir. “Not just dead. Murdered… murdered by her own hands… but she was…” The man’s eyes turned darker still, and a bony finger raised from the cloak he wore and lifted to point at Phalomir. “… she was told to do this… no, she was given a choice. She saved our race!”

The man’s lips curled into a sneer as his finger bent inward, joining the others to form a tight clawed fist.

“Blood is blood!” called out Phalomir. “Sacrifices! Life is about sacrifices! What is done is done, and her sacrifice was not in vain! She shall live, she shall carry on your legacy, do you not see this? She is the savior of an entire people through the deed done to you!”

The man threw his head back and screamed a long, guttural, wail that shook the trees around Phalomir. He could almost feel the hot breath of the man, even from this distance, and he braced his face to the rage-filled wind before him.

“And I will sacrifice all for her!” he called out. “She will have only wholesome memories of the love you shared, and not this torment! Be gone, vile shade, and never return, for if you raise one shadow of doubt within her for what she did then I shall tear you asunder and scatter your memory to the foul winds!”

The man growled savagely at this. He balled his fists and fell to all fours, spitting apart his cloak as his body seemed to grow in size. His face contorted, extending outward and growing gray and wrinkled. He charged, taking off in a violent flurry that brought him quickly upon a course to meet Phalomir head on. Every step brought another change to the man, until with the very last leap towards Phalomir the man resembled nothing but a huge boar-wolf.

Phalomir, enraged, ducked aside as the creature leaped and brought a powerful kick into the hind quarter that faced him. The boar-wolf crashed into a tree, and before it could rise and turn Phalomir dove at its side with claws extended and fangs bared.

Ripping and tearing, and shouting Jharmeen’s name, Phalomir fought with the beast. He did not feel the rake of claws on his back, nor did he listen to the creature’s mournful howl as he cut a deep slit in its belly and plunged his clawed hand deep into the boar-wolf’s chest.

When Phalomir regained his senses, he found himself standing in the woods holding up a dark warm object in his extended hand, as if offering it to the sky. His hand, arm, and in fact whole body was covered in a sticky red ooze. His back hurt with a sharp pain that overshadowed other such pains seemingly everywhere on his body.

But he knew who he was.

"Because he would not harm me, not truly," she finally said. Then that smile faded, for even though she knew Phalomir would die before a hair on her head or that of her friends and/or acquaintances came to any harm, the madness now consuming him presented an entirely different story. Uttering a little sigh, she went on.

"That is, he no harm me or friends." A couple quick and graceful hand gestures hopefully brought that point home.

"But-- he now--" She paused, chewing her lip as she struggled with ideas which for all she knew would prove either too abstract for the little Ewok to comprehend, or were simply to difficult to present.

"He now-- seefo Graks." She pointed first to her head, then to her heart; then waved them in an X-pattern in front of her chest before moving both hands out to either side of her body. One pointed to a dark shadow, a tiny corner in the tent where the dim lighting could not completely reach.

"Darkness fills him," she whispered, then placing both hands on the sides of her head and weaving back and forth. She let them drop, fisting them as they fell, then raised them waist high.

"Phalomir," she said, opening her right fist.

"Graks," she stated, opening the other one. Then she brought them together, allowing the fingers to interlace, gripping each other tightly before pulling them apart as two fists once more.

The left fist pounded the right, which dropped to her side. It then flew to hide behind her back, while the right hand slowly came up to cover her heart.

It is a great roar, rising from the deepest of rumbles, bass vibrations carried more through the ground to conduct up via my body into my ears than by air; this deep grumbling rapidly escalates and ends with...

"Jharmeen!"

I blink in surprise at hearing the name of my Chosen One spit out of a throat inescapably set upon by-- fear? Anguish? Raw fury? Then a smile comes to my lips; there is no one but one who would speak thus, and upon such a subject.

Quickly, lest the waning sounds disappear entirely, I hasten in their direction, oblivious now to the efforts of the undergrowth to hinder my path. At length I come out upon a clearing, in whose middle there stands a familiar form. His head is raised to the sky, his outstretched hand holds... absolutely nothing.

I freeze, deeply aware of the unsettling disappearance of my powers, and for a moment hope I can back away into the dark woods, to contemplate him further and thus determine Phalomir's true intentions.

To no avail. His head lowers, his blazing emerald eyes lock with my own, which turn volcanic in turn. I raise my chin, letting my hands come out to either side of me, lower my face, then once more plant an unfearing look directly into his eyes.

“It was for you, Shade,” he called hoarsely. “It was for you she killed him, for you she bore the guilt and shame of her deed. All for the sake of a defeated race, so it could cheat death and reclaim its honor in a time long past its own.”

He cleaned his hand on his tattered tunic, then wiped away the animal blood that dripped into his eye and took a staggering step in Aelvedaar’s direction. Phalomir noticed his own blood staining the back of his hand and held it up towards Aelvedaar.

“All of that guilt, all of that – that burden. It was wrapped into a little ball and guarded by some beast within her. I killed it, Aelvedaar, slew it to keep her alive in a moment of fury. But I thought it was killing her, this beast, keeping her from her life force. It was the other you, the bad one, who allowed me to do this. I took it in me, all of that, and kept it tight with my own magick, my own love. But the magick is gone, Aelvedaar. My magick is gone, and the guilt and fear and shame run rampant within me.”

Phalomir took another step and paused, bringing himself upright as best he could with the fearsome gouges in his back from the boar-wolf’s claws.

“And now you are here, whole, and powerful. I see the power around you, my Lord. If you have come to claim her, or force the guilt and shame back upon her once more, I will be forced to protest most violently. Her father tried, he became a beast himself and meant to overpower me with the claws and teeth of guilt.”

Phalomir pointed back to the heap of flesh and blood sprawled on the ground behind him.

Where would the Galaxy be now without the Sith? Did we truly belong here after all?

"But... they committed genocide," I whisper into the dirt at my feet, the words borne upon the barest breath of air. Whether Phalomir in his apparent madness can discern them I cannot tell, indeed I do not care one way or another.

“If you mean to parlay your guilt upon me in some devious nature,” he said, “I warn you that I am prepared for you.”

Phalomir stared, wary, at the shape of Aelvedaar. The glow around him dimmed, and Phalomir stepped closer. The fury within him subsided slightly, and his heart loosened a bit. He stepped closer still, and was now standing before the great Dark Lord, looking down upon him.

Phalomir leaned forward and landed on both knees, stiffly facing Aelvedaar. Confusion swam though his mind, but a shimmer of intelligence fought for its very existence.

The words slip from my stricken heart before I can stop them. For a moment I remain thus, staring yet at the dirt at our feet; then I raise my face and rock back upon my heels. That perhaps I had erred, and erred greatly, may or may not yet prove to be true; what was true was the fact that, at least for the moment, my magicks had fled me and Phalomir and I were stranded upon a world unknown to me.

"It is good to see you, my Brother," I then rise to my feet, making the formal gestures one Dark Lord of the Sith does to another when greeting him.

"Perhaps you can inform me of this place I so suddenly find myself in. It appears my magicks have become defunct; I fear that should any adversaries arise, we shall have to rely upon your great strength.

"I do have some cunning, though."

“You are as real as I can make you,” he said, “and that will have to do. My Brother, I fear my sanity is in question. I know it is the guilt and fear and shame that Jharmeen harbored, and it is loose within me. I can feel it haunting my thoughts, swirling in my head…”

Phalomir wiped his brow, and realized that his hand was clean. He dare not look behind him, and instead closed his eyes and rubbed them.

“I cannot even trust what I see,” he sighed.

“But you will help me,” he said, his eyes flinging open and staring wildly at Aelvedaar. “Yes, that is what brothers do! You will be my guide, and tell me what is real and what is not, for you are as real as I make you! And I make you real! Yes, yes, there is hope!”

Phalomir clasped his hands together and looked upwards.

“Thank Slaa’an!” he cried.

He returned his gaze to Aelvedaar, and settled his breathing. “We are on Dagobah, we think. But not Dagobah, no, Endor she said. Furry little things that Jharmeen called Ewoks came for us, I remember this. The boy, Rykounagin, was with us. Something happened, I felt the magick slip away… I saw Jharmeen running from me… I must have done something terrible, Aelvedaar, for she only runs away from me when I am terrible, or when something possesses her, or when she dies. Surely she would not be possessed again so soon? It must have been me, doing something terrible. I have to find her, tell her I am sorry. I cannot die with her thinking I am not sorry.”

Strange swirls of light played behind Phalomir’s eyelids. They reminded him of the gases of a nebula that swirled around a ship that he once rode in, but he could not recall the exact time of that experience. The images were soothing, however, and he felt the turmoil in his mind settle down. His thoughts drifted to younger days: playing on the rocks of the sea cliffs with his tuk’ata; running though the large hallways of his father’s home; practicing martial arts with his best friend Thoran –

Thoran…?

A sound of a throat clearing brought Phalomir back to the moment. His eyes opened to see Aelvedaar’s quizzical expression. Phalomir’s mind remained clear, a much welcome feeling, and a broad smile passed over his face.

“I believe…” he began, “I believe I may be myself again.”

Phalomir’s elation carried his eyes to the sky above him, then he turned about and took in the horizon. His bright eyes greeted every tree, every bird, every cloud, until he completed his turn and looked once again at Aelvedaar. His expression grew even more joyous as he realized his best friend from childhood, Thoran, was standing beside the Dark Lord.

Thoran’s finger went to his lips before Phalomir could speak.

“Shhhh,” Thoran whispered, pointing with his other finger at Aelvedaar. “He doesn’t know I’m here. And if you don’t want to be hauled off to the loony bin then I think we should keep it that way.”

Phalomir’s eyebrows rose, unsure.

“I’m here to help you, buddy,” continued Thoran. “Sure, maybe some psycho doctor somewhere might say your mind is compensating for the oppressive guilt-induced dementia brought on by the collapse of the coping mechanism you cemented around the emotional epicenter extracted from Jharmeen, but hell, who cares about that? Let’s just say that I’m here to help you, and leave it that. Oh, and that nobody else can see me.”

Phalomir’s smile turned into a concerned frown, and his eyes flicked to Aelvedaar.

“Well,” he said, “I am mostly myself again.”

I felt naked, not as if standing naked before strangers, but as a body without flesh upon it in a museum. I could distantly hear voices, and words, but none of them made sense.

It vaguely registered in my mind that I should move, that I could do something, but it just didn't seem possible. I felt that, to move, would be to try to walk across broken glass in bare feet.

No matter. Now is not the time to stand about delving into mystery. Now is the time to determine a means by which we might flee this jungled moon, and return to Khar Delba, where I might discern the reason why my magicks have disappeared. But--

"Jharmeen?" I state carefully, the image of the recently raving Phalomir still dancing upon my vision. I cannot help but frown.

"She is here? Then, we must find her, and-- wait."

Once again I pause, as the enormous yet simple incongruity of standing amidst the flora of Endor's moon chatting amicably with this fellow Dark Lord abruptly strikes home. I peer deeply into Phalomir's face.

"How did you come to be here?" Which, in truth, is nothing more than a restatement of the deeper question of how I have come to be here!

"How did you come to find me? Where did you last see my Chosen Daughter? And Panthar Dantares, and Galen Danner; have you seen them as well? They were following behind me..."

In a few minutes, the door of the hut opened and a short, fat, gray Ewok entered. He was adorned with bone necklaces, long wooden hoops earrings, and carried a gourd that rattled as he walked. The females backed away and let him approach.

“Eee-too!” the male proclaimed, throwing his hands into the air. Then he looked down at the human and shook the gourd loudly. He then stepped closer and held the gourd over Rykounagin, and stared into his eyes.

I jerked up and scowled. "Get away from me." I glared at it, before my expression was broken by a wracking cough. I could taste copper, not the best of signs, but did my best to ignore it.

The fat Ewok then strolled around to the side of the bed and plopped down on his well-padded behind. He chirped away a series of long sentences, then pointed to Rykounagin. Getting no response, he pointed to the door, growled dramatically and held his hands up to his head, one finger on each pointing upwards. He growled again.

“I was with Jharmeen,” he said, shakily. “Yes, Jharmeen. We were trying to find someone, perhaps it was you. It seems so long ago now, forgive me. She opened a portal… yes, that was it. We went to Dagobah to find you and Galen and some others, who needed your help, which is why you went there.”

Phalomir stopped and bit his lower lip. His mind was definitely clearer than it had been, but his mastery of the common language had seemed to recess to a dark corner of his abused mind.

“My Lord,” he continued, this time in the high language of the Sith. “I need your help. I… I remember arriving here, with Jharmeen and the boy… yes, Rykounagin, I remember him. He had vowed to help us, to make amends. There is much going on, Lord Aelvedaar, much, and we must find Jharmeen. She will know what to say, it is a struggle for me to keep my wits, I do not remember everything. It involves the Vong, I know this. And the Sith.”

Phalomir looked upwards, as if the sky inspired his mind.

Finally he spoke up.

“Hoo-man,” he croaked in his tiny guttural voice. “Jed-die,” he continued. That was a great percentage of his human vocabulary, and he suddenly wished he had spent more time with the old masters. A thought dawned on him, and he realized suddenly why the human was here amongst them. Of course! It had been so long since a human had come to them, there was only one explanation.

“Eee tooo!” cried the fat Ewok, and the line of a half dozen of the little furry warriors began marching in a line towards the trees.

The forests of Endor's moon flashed by in a carpet of green, blurred into streaks by the approach velocity of the Verpine's little craft. He paid the blur no heed, knowing that somewhere within that indistinct mass was the Sorcerer lord he sought, and that the best approach to finding him was to ignore what his senses were bringing to him, and rely on those of the ship's. Thus he reached out with sensors, scanning the verdant little moon as it rolled beneath him, seeking signs of Sith.

He sat back in surprise when an area flashed by filled not only with expected Ewok lifesigns, but with a human's as well.

He chewed his mandibles in thought. Then, marking the location with his GPS unit, he continued on, using the elevated position of the ship to his advantage, seeking out with his sensors from local horizon to local horizon, plotting a spiralling course as he did so as to discover the whereabouts of the Sith Lord with as much expediency as possible.

I shall state as much to him.

"It would appear, my Brother, that at the very least our Portals seem to be operating at the whimsy of the ghods of the Universe. I too followed a Portal, seeking to assist others, and found myself upon this world which up until this moment I did not know to be Endor."

Indeed I find a bit of satisfaction in gleaning my whereabouts. For although this moon is in a farther, wilder portion of the Galaxy, it at least is in a place which has held intelligent life other than the little Ewoks who rule its woodlands. Imperial forces once placed their bases here, the old Rebel Alliance followed suit.

Thus it comes to my mind that if we cannot use our Sith magicks to gain egress from this place, we at least have other options at our fingertips. We have only to find them.

"But, study has shown this little moon to be riddled with the remnants of old military bases," I continue, repeating my very thoughts aloud. "Surely once we find one such a place, we will be able to call out to K'eel Doba and seek assistance. For the Warrior world, while at times indeed using inherent Sith magicks, uses instead for the most part brute strength and weaponry and other such devices. Communication systems have been developed on Kori'sian such as is used throughout the Galaxy in general; if we call out, they will hear us and come here forthwith.

"It is a good thing, Brother, that you have placed us within this vast Galaxy by your assertion that it is Ewoks who met you and my Chosen One; tell me, how fares she? We need find her, and the youth Rykounagin, ere we seek to find a means of contacting those outside and beseeching them come to our aide."

I pause a moment, staring off into the shadowy trees as if seeking answer there as other words spoken by Phalomir now remind me of their presence. The frown returns to crease my features more adamantly.

"You speak of the Vong, Brother; tell me, what do you know of them. Think you that they have developed the means by which to interfere with our Portals--

"Which as you know would mean that they have in turn found the means to utilize the All, as do we."

"Endor..." he repeated. "I know of this place, yet I have never been here before. But yes, bases abound..."

Phalomir's eyes turned to concern, almost panic.

"We must find Jharmeen, I fear of what I might have done to her when my mind... well, when it burst. If there are bases, then yes, perhaps we can send a signal, but we must find Jharmeen, we cannot leave her here on this world. Rykounagin, perhaps... but no, we must find them both. If he has truly changed, then he is owed support and--" Phalomir trailed, looking off into the blanket of forest covering the hills.

"The Vong," he said calmly, "are not users of magic or the Force, it seems unlikely they could master the All. Balance is needed, is it not?"

"Not mere balance, as some might believe," I reply. It is strange, having this discussion of the intricacies of the All, pacing through the jungle of Endor's moon, while all about us I feel the galaxy is in rising turmoil.

"It is beyond balance. It is complete understanding of All That Is at a visceral, instinctive level. The realization that the greater good is dependent not upon this small race or that, but a function instead of All That Is, and to maintain that greater good one must at time act in a manner one would otherwise think to be, at that moment, either good or evil."

I pause, considering my own words, a tiny wonder beginning to grow within me. No time to study this now; it is put aside, tucked away for meditation at a later date.

"There is really no good or evil, you see. There is only...

"What simply Is."

I move on through the lush understory, carefully pushing aside this or that shrub or vine, trying to move with as much grace and smoothness as I can. There is within me a deep understanding which connects my very soul with the cat-like whisper of my physical movement, one similar to what I believe the Jedi feel with their Force: a respect for that which is living.

But here is where they understand but a part, while I strive to grasp onto the whole: I have not so much respect as to exlude the necessity of taking away the life of that which lives, should it be warranted.

A frown crosses my features, and I ponder further upon things as we move along, for surrounded here by the jungle of Endor, having naught at hand to extricate myself save my own two feet, it indeed does appear I have more than enough time to devote to such things. I think of my Chosen Daughter, whom my Brother Lord seems to be so smitten with. I think of Aeylmaar, my own Adoptive Heir, and of my lost brother Roan. I think of the Darkness we have faced, whether together or alone. And I think of that strange time when Time itself ground to a halt.

To me the clarity of All-use shines brightly. I understand how and why those who use it, can.

And I fear my Brother Phalomir just may not be among that elite group; I do not believe he would have it within him to take the life of Jharmeen, for example, should it become a necessity. As much as I do love her myself, I know that I could.

And would.

Phalomir felt his head swim again, but paused a moment and struggled it back down.

“I, for example, can feel the madness within me – grief, guilt, and overpowering urges to crawl into a hole and die – but although it is there I can use my own will to isolate it and block its effects upon me. Albeit a struggle, I feel I shall become better and better at this as time progresses. Such is the All, you cannot take it away, for it is everything, if what I understand from you and Jharmeen is correct. But blocking your connection to Everything… surely that is above the Vong? That seems more along the lines of the All itself, to block, as you say, All That Is--”

Phalomir stopped again, the weight of that statement slamming into him.

"Somewhat," I state briefly.

"I have been told something of what has occurred to my Chosen Daughter and her companions, in the not too distant past. If you refer to an incident other than the one resulting in Kori'sian being placed into the Elseness, I would enjoin you to divulge it to me."

“Shayla and Jharmeen were under the influence of the Darkness, which was somehow linked to the Master. During that time, Jharmeen sent us all into the Elseness, even after it had been ‘closed’ by That Which Is. How could she do this? Then there were the clones…”

Phalomir paused, holding his head as a pain seared through it. He regained himself and walked again, shaking his head.

"K'kihl, this is Matt Stanza. We are on Khar Delba with Aeylmaar after coming here to see if Graysith and Phalomir had returned from a search of their own. Please let us know how things are progressing with you and how you are faring."

"K'kihl this is," he answered with a click of his mandibles. "Lifesigns more have I found, than expect did I. Life plenty, this moon has, but--"

He rattled an articulatory appendage upon his control board, then returned to communications.

"Sith signs, yes, but two--. Human two, in addition. Unexpected is this; elaborate, can you? As well-- Lord Phalomir, Lady Graysith: with you are they?

"Transmission sending now--"

He gave the send control a definitive punch with one delicate claw before turning back to the puzzle of information before him. For during his time with Sorben Tarnus, if there was one thing he had positively learned it was to gather as much information that he could on a subject before acting upon it. He had no intention of leaving the safety of the skies until he had enough under his belt that he could make a satisfactory, viable, and logical decision as to whether or not he should do so.

"K'kihl, this is Lord Aeylmaar. It is our concensus that the lifesigns you are reading are indeed those of the Dark Lords Aelvedaar and Phalomir, the Dark Lady Graysith, and the.. lad, Rykounagin.

However, if you feel uncertain yet and do not wish to... inconvenience yourself and the craft you are in, perhaps you can find a means to communicate with those on the ground, to request they come out of hiding into an open area, that you might make visual contact and thus confirm their identity--?

"Toward that end, will I now apply myself," he replied quickly, ending with a hasty, "K'kihl, out."

His response was out of his mind before the words finished leaving his mandibles, for the young Sith Lord's simple idea provoked myriad ones of his own to pop into his head. He cast a faceted eye over the interior of the little TIE, taking in this system and that, rummaged about until he found the emergency tool kit, and then, putting the little ship on auto-pilot he set about doing what Verpines did best.

A dish receiving, into one transmitting can be made...

True, the amplification wasn't the greatest to come down the interstellar pike, but it should be good enough to suit his purposes. After fiddling about for another half hour or so, tweaking this and that, he finally sat back with a clack of mandibles to scrutinize his work. It looked somewhat on the Frankensteinian side, but it should work...

Now reaching to the navigation board, he brought the craft into an orbit so low it really couldn't be said to be an orbit at all, but was rather a skimming of the lush, Endorian treetops. The TIE bucked and rolled like a young ronto, displaying its general displeasure at having to feel an actual atmosphere upon its skin, but K'kihl somehow managed to keep the craft airborne.

"Sith and human lifesigns, into open can you proceed for indentification..." he began sending, repeating over and over as he flew one careful grid pattern after another, taking pains to remain in the general vicinity of where he had picked up the lifesigns to begin with.

Such was the case when he finished his odd conjectures to Aelvedaar. He finally regained his composure, and was about to put forth another theory, when his keen Sith hearing caught an oddly metallic voice booming from the heavens.

His eyes slowly tracked upwards, then blinked several times.

I am about to speak of such things when his aspect changes: indeed, he almost seems to cringe into himself, as though trying to avoid confrontation with some sort of terrible, personal demon. Only this demon is not one within his own mind.

"No, my brother," I reply, forcing to keep my voice calm so as not to possibly agitate him further. "You are not speaking to ghosts or gods; indeed, I too hear the voice from the sky, but to my ears it sounds quite mortal in origin."

I pause a moment more, cocking my head to one side to listen to the distant words coming down from the sky. They repeat themselves, over and over, and finally fade in the distance. A moment of silence ensues, then they return: softly at first, then gaining strength until beginning to fade once more.

A little shiver of excitement races through me.

"Come, my Brother, let us do as this strange voice requests. For unless I miss my guess, I believe it to be one who has been sent to our rescue. I can only deduce that my son the Lord Aeylmaar has found our location, and has sent someone to our aid. In fact--"

Once again I quiet, straining my ears to listen before then allowing a smile to lighten my features.

"I do believe this someone to be the Verpine, K'kihl. At least it sounds like the insect; come. Let us do as he requests, although why he asks such a strange boon of us is beyond my understanding."

“Eensha tell Wakti take hooman to hooman door. Ewoks much happy when no hoomans. Hoomans live one time here, bad hoomans. Good hoomans come, kills bad hoomans. But that long time gone, now no hoomans come. No good, no bad. Now you come, bring graks – demon. But you say not graks? Not bad?”

Eensha tilted his ancient head towards Wakti, who bowed to listen. After conveying a few words in the Ewok language, Eensha gave a sign with his hand and Wakti nodded and left quickly.

“Eensha send Wakti to find Graks. Find Phay-lo-mir. Ewoks know land well, have posts everywhere. We watch, we know. Will know soon where Phay-lo-mir go. Will bring him here.”

Eensha’s ears perked, the old, gray tips comically rising to catch the drift of something on the wind. After a moment, he looked again to Jharmeen.

Voice in the sky--??

"Ahh, no," she garbled, momentarily flustered. Then she reacted purely out of instinct, reaching into herself to then reach out with--

The stark emptiness inside her filled her head with shock and dismay, and her eyes with the glint of tears. For up until this very moment she had been so wrapped up in the affairs of others, first Phalomir's descent into madness, and then in conversation with this apparent leader of the Ewoks, that she had taken no time to investigate further that which she had barely discovered when she first arrived at Endor.

The All had left her. Her marvelous glyph was nothing but a cinder on her brow, a mockery of the cinder her heart was rapidly becoming...

She shuddered back a gulping sob, crunched her fingers together in semblance of lacing them, and fought to regain her former decorum. At length she succeeded in this, if only enough to fool Eensha.

"No, it is not Phalomir who calls from the sky." Still on her knees, she bowed her head.

"Phalomir is-- is-- has gone quite mad; I fear for the well-being of my friend Wakti if he runs into the forest to retrieve him. Perhaps it would be of better use to discover just what this mysterious voice is of which you speak?"

She bowed her head again, then shot a sidelongs glance toward the door through which the Ewok in question had just disappeared. Perhaps it would not be too late to fetch him back...

“Hooman no hearing?” he inquired. “Maybe Jar Mee go quite mad, not Phay-lo-mir. Wakti know how hunt graks, Wakti gather hunters, hunt Phay-lo-mir, but no hurt.”

Eensha again paused to listen to the strange metallic voice in the sky, this time quite louder as the unseen source passed closed to this part of the forest.

"If you will excuse me," she murmured with a polite bow before rising gracefully to her feet. Moments later she was outside the hut, listening. Sure enough, there seemed to be something coming in as though from a great distance, like thunder over the horizon. But as it grew louder she knew it could not possibly be thus.

"Sith and human lifesigns, into open can you proceed for indentification..."

She jerked in surprise at being so neatly singled out by-- by--

"K'kihl? K'kihl!"

With sudden recognition came a great rush of dawning joy. She bolted-- only to halt in place, casing a guilty look over her shoulder. There a few paces behind her stood a fat little Ewok, no doubt having trailed her from the Hut of Eensha.

"I go to voice in sky," she said, pantomiming with her hands and hoping with all her heart that the little creature understood.

"Tell Eensha... thank you."

“K’khil?” he asked. “Here? But, how would he know…?”

Phalomir’s question was cut short by the squawk of the tinny speaker again. The ship had circled around from the distance and was apparently on the approach again.

"The Verpine, while being somewhat quiet, is quite intelligent," I replied, eyes still trained upward. "I can only deduce that something strange occurred as I stepped through the Portal, something untoward. I do recall a sudden flare of unusual light; perhaps this showed itself in my Inner Chambers as well, provoking Lord Aeylmaar into finding my whereabouts before our abilities had gone from us.

"Assuming, that is, that he too is now bereft of his powers, as I suspect. I will not know for certain until we are safely from this place. Which I believe to be in the very near future."

I could not help but shake my head at this, for the timing had been exquisitely incredible.

"The darth who once called my temple his own kept a secreted hangar of craft on the temple grounds; I can only further speculate that K'kihl has been sent here in one such craft to retrieve me."

I pause, eyes straining, ears on the alert. Soon it comes... "Sith and human lifesigns, into open can you proceed for indentification..." The smile on my face broadens exponentially, and I shoot a clawed finger skyward.

"Look, he is there!" I exclaim with excitement entirely unbefitting of a Dark Lord of the Sith, as from nowhere a small, dark object bullets from the nearby treetops, blaring the message over and over. An inarticulate noise escapes me then, and pacing forward a few steps, I raise my arms aloft and begin waving them in greeting.

Unwilling to venture any further into the shadowed forest of Endor, for fear she would not find another clearing before the Verpine left for another part of the moon, she moved into the exact center and stood still, face craned upward. There she stood, her heart pounding from her run, thinking over the words the message was saying now that she had time to actually devote to such a thing.

Human and Sith lifesigns... K'kihl was sending.

Lifesigns. Plural.

This only led her to believe that he had somehow been sent here specifically to find her, and Lord Phalomir, and the lad...

Her thoughts derailed in an instant, and a hand flew to her lips.

Rykounagin! Where was he? What had happened to him?

A shadow of concern loomed over her, laced with not just a touch of annoyance. For now it appeared that after she was actually discovered by the Verpine, yet more time would have to be spent hunting the whereabouts of the lad. She frowned, hoping the scope of this challenge would not be too large. For while sensors could pinpoint a set of life signatures down to the exact point of ground one stood upon, just where that point of ground was determined how long it would take before rescuers could arrive there. The lad might be hidden far away from the nearest place a craft could land, promising nothing but yet more lengthy treks into the forest, following what could indeed be a moving target.

She frowned slightly, wishing Ryknounagin hadn't left her when he had, and then sighed.

Nothing for it now, she thought as she peered upward, allowing her thoughts to then turn to those about Lord Phalomir.
Oh my Lord, how fare you? she wondered, a tear beginning to tremble at the corner of her eye. Are you still taken with the madness? Can you be safely taken off this moon, without harming others?

Can your sanity be restored by the magicks of our people?

A stab of sorrow raced through her with the knowledge that she had absolutely nothing to assist him with. Without the All she was a helpless as a newborn babe.

Her thoughts segued now along that path.

What strange event had occurred to make her lose her powers? Did the All disappear entirely... no. That was inconceivable; it was part and parcel of reality, and as far as she knew she and her immediate surroundings were entirely so. Ergo, something was blocking her from using her knowledge. There were few who had the power to do that, only Lords Roan and Aelvedaar had in fact ever actively done so.

Her eyes widened as another idea blasted her straight in the face. Not really an idea, but an image: one of a huge pair of eyes, gleaming violet and silver, staring down upon she and others with her while a booming voice played wordgames with them.

That Which Is... could it possibly be? But what would have offended it?

She didn't know, couldn't know, didn't even know if this was correct or if her loss represented something like the beginning of the breakdown of Reality itself. Which would of course mean the end of everything, existant or otherwise.

Highly improbable.

Sighing, she put all further speculation from her mind and concentrated on the tiny circle of sky over her head. Such questions and fears would have to wait, until she was back with Lord Aelvedaar who she hoped would be able to answer them.

The Verpine would have smiled if he could as, homing in on the ever-increasing intensity of a pair of lifesign readings, he at length approached and then soared over a tiny clearing. The sensors immediately set up a ratchetting clatter, announcing that he had indeed come upon, for one nanosecond had been exactly upon, and now was flying away from the exact point of ground where the origin of one set of signs was located. This ratchet was joined almost simultaneously by another; with deft hands K'kihl then turned the little TIE fighter about and headed earthward, this time buzzing the clearing mere meters above the towering canopy that surrounded it. Flicking on external vids, he took a close look, and clattered his mandible with satisfaction.

A flick of a single digit silenced the blaring message, and he leaned into the mike.

"K'kihl this is, in rescue have I come. Clearing some two and one half kilometers presents for landing. Coordinates set as..."

He fiddled a bit with the computer, sighting from the moon's north and equator for bearings. Not knowing where the longitudinal origin was exactly, he could only go by their actual location.

"A line follow due north by northeast, bearing 52 degrees," he sent down, then adding the following, which was not quite as precise as he would have liked.

"This bearing follow, three-quarters kilometer; bear then due east until clearing is met. Circle I for visual reference, but thick is the forest of Endor.

"K'kihl, out."

With that he began flying in tight, looping circles, his flightpath being somewhat like that of a stretched out spring, that those on the ground below might have something more solid to follow than the what he considered to be weak information he had given them.

“If this is really K’khil, then praise be to that which guides him. But a bearing of 52 degrees… I am afraid I do not have a navigation device with me. But if my basic survival instincts are still functioning, then I believe 52 degrees is roughly… in…. THAT direction.”

Phalomir pointed with his extended finger bearing into the woods.

“Give or take a degree,” he frowned. “But at only 750 meters, I do not think we are likely to miss the clearing if it is large enough to land his ship.”

Phalomir began walking, his long legs carrying him quickly to the trees. Aelvedaar followed, somewhat surprised with Phalomir’s sudden burst of decisiveness. When Phalomir reached the thickly grown grove of trees, he grabbed a large branch and pulled hard, tearing the limb from the trunk and clearing a way into the woods.

The fat Ewok looked around cautiously, trying to pinpoint the source of the sounds. He finally turned his head slowly to Rykounagin.

The force sent Phalomir sprawling backwards onto the leaf-carpeted forest floor. He lie motionless for a second, then he forced his hand to his head. A trickle of violet blood flowed from the wound, and he held the spot tightly. With his other hand he pushed himself up to sit on his side.

A wash of pain ran through his head, and with it came a chiming of high pitched bells. Wincing, Phalomir sat upright and crossed his legs. The blood dripped from his hand and onto his lap, and he realized that he was possibly more hurt than he had first thought.

He tried to stand, and although the world still swam around him, the ringing of the ceaseless chimes brought with them a certain clarity that had recently eluded him. A genuine smile arched across his face, giving way to another wince as the pain again surged, but it was soon replaced by a look of tentative relief.

As Phalomir watched Lord Aelvedaar approach, he grabbed the bottom of his already ragged shirt and pulled a long strip from it. This he wrapped around his head like a black bandana and tied it tightly. Aelvedaar eyed him curiously, and Panthar bowed his head to the elder Sith and said nothing for a moment.

“I believe East is this way,” he said at length. “Unless my sense of direction has failed me.”

I shake these uneasy thoughts away, and merely nod toward Phalomir.

"Indeed, that is my belief as well, brother," I reply. For although I am bereft of my magicks and to the touch of the All, I still retain my hearing. I find my hearing always having proven to be excellent; it does not fail me now. With careful attention applied in the focusing my ears, I can clearly discern the general direction in which the Verpine's ship is heading.

"K'kihl is indeed going that way; let us follow him."

With that I pick up the hem of my shredded robes, and set off in the direction we both have come to agree upon, following the simple sounds of a ship's engines first waning, then strengthening, then waning more, strengthening more but less than prior; on and on this goes, giving us indication of the looping flight pattern it is following along a general directional trend. I do not believe it will be long before we will break into the clearing, one which, as Phalomir has already pointed out, should be large enough as to forgive us any error we might unwittingly be committing in our direction of travel.

Only it didn't go away, but instead grew louder and more insistent, buzzing more strongly and then somewhat weaker, as though it were flying toward her and away, toward her and away... until with a start she realized it wasn't an insect at all but the distant sound of a ship's engines.

It is K'kihl! she thought as joy burst throughout her. I haven't gone in the wrong direction after all! But--

She eyed the clearing in which she stood, suddenly not extremely happy with its dimensions. For although this was indeed a clearing, an opening in the canopy, into one of which the Verpine had directed the castaways enter, it was after all only three meters in diameter. That, she now realized, was entirely too small, and while she now knew there was no possible way the Verpine could land in it, she couldn't help but wonder if he'd be able to see her at all.

He will probably need to be directly over me for his sensors to pick me up, she reasoned, that logical portion of herself inherited from her father coming suddenly into play.

He will need direct line of sight... and it doesn't sound as if he's coming any closer to where I am!

Worry clouded her clear violet eyes. She thrust that as far from herself as she possibly could, refusing to fall into the pit of "what ifs" but instead let her mind whirl, trying to come up with something, anything, any means probable to communicate her location to that distant ship.

Do I dare go off in the forest again, trying to follow it?

She wavered, thinking. The forest was dense, shadowed and gloomy inside where the thick canopy blocked the sun. Would that canopy and those giant trunks play tricks with her hearing, with sound itself? That she didn't know, and to tell the truth was afraid to even try and discover. There was a very real possibility that if she set out into that forest she would only become more lost, with absolutely no way to find anyone, let alone having anyone find her.

No. It was best to follow the old advice which stood so well across the test of Time: when lost, remain put until help arrives.

If that help is aware of your being lost at all, that is... sneered a little devil who after popping atop her shoulder to smirk into her ear, promptly disappeared.

Very well then, I shall act.

She looked about the clearing: nothing but forest giants, too big for her to climb. A quick crane of the neck, and a simple question was answered: the closest branches are about ten meters over my head...

Then inspiration struck. Nodding, she left the clearing, and struck out for a short distance into the forest. It didn't take long to find what she was hunting for: a younger tree, one which was large enough to support her weight but small enough to provide her access to it's branches. Before she could talk herself out of it she removed her boots, then grasping the rough bark with fingers and toes managed to grunt and sweat her way up to the closest branch. From there she climbed upward as high as she could go, slenderer branches and leaves slapping her face, impingeing myriad nicks and cuts upon her bare skin. She paid them no heed but continued, and when she could go no further she paused to assess her situation.

The canopy still stretched far over her head, taunting her with its silent, green grin. That didn't deter her; casting a look about, she found she was now well up into the height above ground dominated by the larger trees' branches, and as luck would have it one seemed to be within jumping distance from her. If one could consider a jump as being one two and a half meters at approximately twenty meters above the forest floor onto what looked suddenly to be a millimeter-thin branch...

She closed her eyes for a moment, forcing fear away, forcing herself to concentrate. Then she opened them and before she could consciously think about what she was doing, she maneuvered to a better position, crouched, and sprang with all the strength she could muster.

And of course missed entirely.

Pain sliced into her with a thousand wooden blades as her leap carried her to slam against the trunk of that forest giant. From there it segued into seeming millions as, fingers and hands and arms scrabbling for purchase, legs trying frantically to wrap about the trunk, she half-slid, half-fell to the ground. There she crashed onto her back with a solid whump, and into immediate unconsciousness.

The sounds of the giant insect continued to thrum in the distance, but his mission did not concern that sound. Eensha had sent them to hunt the demon, and to bring it back to the human female. He was not sure how they were to do this, for the last time Wakti saw the demon it was wild and dangerous, and it would take a sure shot from the sling to knock the demon in unconsciousness.

But they would remain on task. And now a series of careless footsteps in the distance, in the direction of the insect, gave away the location of the demon. But the last sound, a crash, that was different. He sniffed the air again, catching not only the smell of the demon, but of something else… the human?

He brought his hand down and pointed forward. The Ewoks immediately broke into two groups, one set taking to the trees and the other running along with Wakti deeper into the woods.

Soon Wakti and his band came to the area of the crash. Wakti sighed deeply as he saw the crumpled human female. He looked in all directions, then nervously crept out of his cover and up to the woman.

“Jhar-mee?” he said, placing a furry paw on her forehead. Her face had several scratches, and a trickle of blood coated his finger as he pulled it away. He sighed again, letting out a soft moan of concern. Then his face set in a determined frown, and he turned to his band in their hiding spots. He barked out a series of orders to care for the human until his return, then turned abruptly to the other direction.

As the sound of the ship again approached, Phalomir and Aelvedaar stepped out of the woods and into a large clearing. The sunlight beat down upon them, blinding them momentarily. Phalomir could help but smile, and he held his hand up to shade his eyes from the sun. He could now clearly see the outline of the ship high in the sky.

He looked to Aelvedaar, who was also looking into the sky. Elated though he was, Phalomir turned his head to look behind, hoping to see Jharmeen following their trail.

Disappointed, he exhaled slowly and turned around again.

“We still need to find Jharmeen,” he said to Aelvedaar. “She could be a--”

A sound came from above, and before Phalomir could pinpoint its source, a pair of furry, yet surprisingly hard, feet came crashing down upon the back of his neck. The impact sent Phalomir to his knees, and as he rolled over to a sitting position he suddenly found himself staring at a primitive, yet dangerous, spear tip.

The Ewok that held the spear stared hard at Phalomir, then its eyes darted back and forth between him and Aelvedaar.

“Graks!” it said, shaking the spear. “Wermo! Shetai Wakti!”

Phalomir looked at Aelvedaar, not sure of what to think of this.

“Aelvedaar,” he began. The spear moved closer and pressed into his neck.

“T’hesh!” the Ewok shouted. Then it growled. “Veek, arandee. Jar-mee seefo.”

He drew in a breath to try once more to get across to this… thing. Wakti thought then that the other demon, which stood away and also did nothing, might understand. As he flicked his eyes to the other demon, the one on the ground brought up a fist in a lightning quick movement. It connected with the side of Wakti’s head and sent him reeling several feet away from the red beings.

“Seefo! Jar Mee seefo!” the furry warrior cried. “Jhar Mee!”

Phalomir paused, then looked to Aelvedaar.

From that interior there popped the logic-filled head of the Verpine. He immediately spotted the others, and waved a manipulatory appendage at them, a maneuver which slowed exponentially until that appendage came to an upright standstill.

He hadn't expected to find others with those he sought, especially when those others were of the furry and vertically challenged variety.

"Here, am I," he finally called as he leapt lightly to the ground and approached the place where the two Sith Lords stood. One of them held a handful of Ewok in a tight grip.

The Verpine cocked his head.

"Trouble, is there?" he inquired politely.

"K'kihl!" The words tumble from my lips in wholeheartedly joy, for ghods alone know how tired I have grown of traipsing about this overgrown moon.

"Indeed, it is good to see you at last; this one--"

I wave one hand toward the dangling furball

"--appears to have been saying something about the Dark Lady Jharmeen, but appears to have been startled into silence by your arrival.

"Perhaps this little one would be more inclined to speak with us if you removed your grip from his neck, my brother."

“I will not hurt you,” he said. “But tell me of Jharmeen.”

He then lowered the Ewok to the ground and let go. It immediately rolled several feet away and came up in a defensive stance. It scanned each of the three strange beings, eyes darting from one to another, then back again. Finally, after it had calmed a bit, it stamped it’s foot on the ground.

“Jhar-mee!” it said emphatically. It then pointed into the woods and made motions with its arms and legs that made it look like it was running in place. “Jhar-mee!” it repeated, then took several steps into the direction it had pointed, then turned and paused.

“I believe,” said Phalomir, “that it wants us to follow? But how could it know Jharmeen?”

The Ewok muttered something in its language, then took off running into the woods. Panthar frowned once more, looked at Aelvedaar and K'khil, then sighed.

"I will follow," he said. "If you stay here, give me one standard hour. Otherwise, if you follow, you may want to secure the ship from others of his kind."

With that, Phalomir began to follow the Ewok. His long strides easily brought him within short range of the creature, but the furry thing seemed to move through the tangles of forest much easier than the hulking Sith.

His hunters were bravely standing guard, and gave a quiet cheer as he cleared the immediate woods. All eyes turned wide when the hulking demon appeared close behind Watki, however, and the small band of brave Ewoks scattered up into the trees. Watki sighed and stopped, then pointed to the prone female.

The demon paused, made a small sound, then placed a huge hand on top of Watki’s head before rushing off to the fallen human. It began administering some type of aid to the human, and Watki shrugged.

He looked upwards into the canopy and shouted chastising words to his troops. A sound of footsteps coming from behind caught his attention, and the Ewok turned to see the other demon approaching. He held his spear forward and waited.

My heart sinks further.

"I-- I cannot discern if there are any internal injuries," I state, ignoring the obvious external ones her small frame bears. One wrist appears to be broken, judging by the position of the hand; the nails upon that hand, as well as those on the other, are ragged and split, some nearly torn from their beds as if she had been fighting a losing battle against some great force.

I take a look around, and then upward. Judging by the broken branches, as well as the myriad ones scattered about her body, I know precisely that gravity was that force, one against which she fought so obviously a losing battle.

What would she have been doing up there? I wonder briefly to myself, then put aside the question. At the moment it is quite irrelevant; what is of greatest importance is getting her to aid.

I send a worried look to Phalomir.

"We must get to her aid, and quickly, brother. Perhaps the healers..."

This sentence trails off with the sudden certainty that the glorious Healers of Khar Delba would find themselves at a loss to mend what might be wrong inside her. For it strikes me now that certainly she would not be in this predicament had she the ability to prevent it.

“No,” he said. “Not the healers. The Sith worlds are too far, and if they too have been affected by this strange cloud that blocks our power then their arts will be no more effective than that of the Ewoks. Our hope, I believe, lies in the skills of those with technology. If K’kihl knows of a reasonably close world where we could take her, then that is where we should go.”

Phalomir looked at Aelvedaar, pausing in his thoughts.

“Jharmeen had said that an old Empire -- or was it a Republic -- had used this world as a base. If we could find remnants then perhaps they may have left equipment that would be useful. But that is too much of a risk, we must fetch K’khil. Stay here with her, I will go. I hesitate to carry her in my arms for risk of further injuring her, but perhaps there is something on board that can serve as a stretcher. Keep her safe, my brother.”

Phalomir placed a hand on Aelvedaar’s shoulder and stood, and in a flash his long legs were carrying him quickly through the woods once more. This time, however, he had purpose and determination, and it did not take long to reach the ship.

"Something is it, you need?" he asked, then letting his mandibles chatter like jackhammers. For although logic told him with certainty that there was absolutely no reason to take alarm by the Sith's actions - perhaps he needed a tool or something - the fact that Phalomir was alone somehow led him to feel that there was something rotten in Dantooine.

"Hoth, the closest is," he called as he waved the map in one manipulatory appendage.

"But abandoned ice-world it is, with only wampa ice creatures and some taun-taun found to be."

He paused fractionally to cast another look upon the map, aware of the Sith Lord's mounting fear-laced impatience. Waving the map again, he spoke up.

"Bespin. Nearest system is, Cloud City there is, medical facilities have they," he said then leaped to the ground. Going to Phalomir's side he handed him the map.

"Small is fighter, but fit tightly can two," he said, nodding his head toward the ship.

"Carry you there it can; return for the rest later can you do.

"Now... help need you further?"

“You will fly her to this cloud city then,” he said. “I fear my appearance there may elicit the same reaction as it did from these Ewoks, and Jharmeen can ill afford that. Leave us a com link, and return for us when she is stable. Hopefully, with a larger ship, there are three of us who need rescue.”

Phalomir poked his head inside the ship and looked about. K’khil was correct, it would be a tight fit but two could ride inside. There were no obvious compartments for medical equipment such as a stretcher, but a first aid kit presented itself, attached to the bottom of a seat. Phalomir took this and left the small ship.

“I will carry her here,” he said. “I was hoping for a stretcher, but there is none. Please, try to arrange a place for her to ride comfortably. I do not know the extent of her injuries, but they are great.”

Phalomir placed a massive hand on the Verpine, approximating where a shoulder would be.

“I place great confidence in you, my friend,” he said. “I know you will take care of her.”

With that, Phalomir began the short run back to where Lord Aelvedaar kept watch over Jharmeen. On the way he thought of the best way to carry her without creating more injuries, and of what he and Lord Aelvedaar would do while waiting for the K’khil’s return. He did not relish the thought of staying with these Ewoks, but they had no friends here. And Rykounagin was lost, and must be located.

When Phalomir reached the spot where Jharmeen lay, he greeted Aelvedaar and nodded to the Ewok. He then knelt beside Jharmeen and placed a hand gently on her forehead.

“K’kihl will take her to a cloud city, in the Bespin system. He will return for us when he is able, hopefully he will find a com link to leave with us.”

Phalomir pulled out the first aid kit, finding in it a hypo of painkiller. He was well versed in such field medicine, though he could not exactly recall from where he learned it. Perhaps in the days after his father had left? He then stood and bent down, preparing to scoop up Jharmeen.

“Can you assist me, my Brother? I do not wish to cause her more injury while I lift.”

A small cough from behind caused Phalomir to pause and look. The Ewok stood next to a makeshift stretcher fashioned from sticks and vines. Phalomir could see more Ewoks standing behind the trees and peering out, and stood and bowed to them.

I shake my head, not in negation of my Brother's request but at what I might have done to this female, this one who has throughout the years come to mean more to me than merely the rejuvenator of the Sith. Then I quickly move into action, and assist Lord Phalomir in placing her atop the litter.

"I am ready, Brother," I then reply to him, straightening fully as he mirrors my action. Then holding tightly to the feather-light burden I follow where he leads us, and together we trudge into the forests of this verdant moon, accompanied by a silent but extremely watchful little group of its people.

Sounds of astonishment and hushed whispers came from the group of furry warriors, but Phalomir paid them little heed. He, like Aelvedaar, was focused on delivering Jharmeen safely to the ship.

When she was safely aboard in a makeshift bed that K’khil had managed to construct in that short time, Phalomir placed a hand on the verpine’s shoulder area.

But even could not help but let out a distinctive “ooooooo” at the sight of the sleek, black metal beast sitting behind the insect. Whispers came from around and behind him, and his warriors were all held in as much astonishment as Watki himself.

He marveled for a few moments as the demons loaded the female onto the black shiny thing. What had the legends called this… stir-chip? Not quite, but it was came to mind. The legend of Cindel the human child had been told for many generations, how the golden-furred human had came to the Ewok world with her brother, lost in the forest. Her family had been killed in a stir-chip crash, and the story tells of how she and her brother lived with Wicket, the greatest of the chiefs, when he was but a pup. Further legends tell of her involvement with the triumph over the evil ones, but what Watki remembered most clearly was the tale of the stir-chip.

"No," he finally stated. "Such a device, cannot I manufacture. Cannibalize ship's communications did I, you to seek out. Repair, easy this is.

"But personal--?"

He merely let the words stretch out into a self-answered query before turning about and entering the ship. Halfway in he paused, turning about to face the pair of Sith and their furry companions.

"Hasten shall I, to broadcast upon return."

Giving a definitive nod he disappeared into the TIE fighter, letting the hatch close behind him. The roar of launching thrusters soon forced those on the ground to seek safer footing, and once they were outside the perimeter of the tiny craft's powerful engines the Verpine took to the sky.

In moments the ship was but a tiny speck, which then disappeared altogether.

I let my hand drop with a small sigh.

It was not a feeling he enjoyed, nor did he welcome it.

“Now we find our own way off of this moon,” he said, turning to Aelvedaar. “If the apparent loss of powers we experienced has also somehow effected the Sith worlds, they will need us there. From there we can send our human friends to find K’kihl and Jharmeen.”

Phalomir turned his head to regard the band of Ewoks still staring from the forest’s edge.

“These Ewoks have a great deal of intelligence. If we can somehow communicate with them without provoking them into attacking, perhaps they know something that could lead us to the old base that Jharmeen spoke of. This world was apparently used by two different powers in the past, and it could be that there is a communication link still in existence. The brave dark one is apparently their leader, and it seems to like you much more than it likes me. Perhaps you could use your Dark Lord charm and make us a new friend?”

"Thank you for your assistance," I grate out in rusty Basic, hoping the Ewok will understand. It did have a manner of speech, after all; perhaps it will recognize what I am trying to say and assist us.

"We need to speak--" I place two clawed fingers against my lips, then finish the sentence by speaking around them, "--with our people."

With this I point first to Phalomir, then to myself, and finally up to the break in the canopy overhead, letting my eyes follow the gesture, making it one of trying to reach out to something, or to someone.

"Perhaps you can help us?"

Signals? Wait… was it trying to say something? It seemed to be making sounds, like the other demon. It seemed to be using the same grunts and moans, very similar to the hooman female.

Well, there was only one Ewok in the whole seven tribes who could understand this loony speech…

Wakti belted out orders to his warriors and they lined up in formation around the two demons and within an hour they were all standing before the grand and glorious Eensha, who was now regarding the red demons that Wakti had brought before her.

She looked to the smaller, stag-horned demon, who looked more inviting.

I know very little of these furry denizens. I wish I could determine whether this one is male or female.

"Yes," I reply at length, clasping my hands together in the folds of my ragged sleeves and, placing them against my midriff, bowing respectively to it.

"I know Jharmeen. My Brother and I have sent her off-world to be healed, for she has been grievously injured. Now we too are seeking a means of leaving your planet.

"Can you assist us?"

I quiet, ignoring the slight snort I fancy I hear coming from Phalomir's lips. Undoubtedly that great warrior feels I am speaking over the heads of these diminutive beings, but there is something about the demeanor of this one, this one who is held in obviously high regard by the others, which leads me to believe it understands far more than many beings might expect.

“She left with our friend, in a ship that was not large enough for us all,” he said, his deep voice resonating. The Ewoks looked to each other in surprise and caution. Phalomir looked at them, scanning their small furry faces. He came to a stop on Watki.

Except for Eensha, who sat there calmly.

"Yes," I say simply, raising my face to regard the little one carefully.

"It would please us greatly if you would take us to this tar- er, rather, this star-ship. We need to follow after our friend, Jharmeen, up into the sky."

“I tell Watki,” said the elderly Eensha, “I give him… orders. No Ewok see place of Cyndil for many many years, not since Cyndil die. She come back to Ewoks to live as Ewok. I know only of legend, stories of where Cyndil have tar-chip. But I tell Watki, he take you there. You must find.”

Eensha could see the cautious look of hope on the faces of the Dark Lords.

“But you go to place of big danger. Ancient land of warlords, long dead, but warlord beasts still live there. Gone wild, savage. May need fight, demons use spear, Watki give. Watki go, and warriors. Wakti help demons.”

A smile crossed the Ewok’s lips as she spoke the words.

"We are of the race of the Sith," I reply simply, convinced that an open and honest reply is in order. Then raising my head, I place one hand first on my chest, then extend it toward Lord Phalomir.

"I am Lord Aelvedaar, Dark Lord of the Sorceror clan; my companion here, Lord Phalomir, is Dark Lord of the Armorers, and has claim to that of the Warriors as well. We are extremely grateful for the assistance you are lending us, and wish to repay your kindness. Once we have returned safely to our home worlds and temples, we can easily do so.

"Do your people have any needs, or is there anything we might in turn assist you with once we have regained our places of power within our society?"

It was a tale told from the days of the great chief Wicket, of the great battle that asserted the strength of the warriors against the might of an invading force – a force led by the mysterious Sith.

Eensha knew this story well, and she felt the tension in the air among her fellow Ewoks. But as elder, it was her duty to remain composed and ask the questions that needed to be asked.

“Sith?” she asked purposefully. “We have stories, tellings from great chiefs of war fought in forests. Ewoks fight invaders, name of…”

Eensha paused, searching her aged mind for the word.

“Eempire? Yes yes, Eempire. But it was Sith who led, they told.”

"No, they were not Sith," I state evenly. I stare directly into her inquisitive eyes.

"They were what we call the Dark Jedi; they came to our worlds and destroyed our race, learning some of our magicks which they then, over the years, used to create a foothold in the Galaxy along with the misuse of our noble name."

I pause a moment, hoping she believes me.

"They are as much my enemy as yours; I remember when they killed--"

Again I pause, debating with myself how much detail this little one needs to know. While I do adhere to the diplomatic policy of open honesty between peoples, in this case I cannot help but wonder if what my people and I went through would be something at all fathomable to the ewoks.

“You and Ewoks hurt from Dark Jedi. We know stories of Jedi, but not dark. Great hero – Skywalker. Solo. Great names of legend.”

The Ewok returned with two white objects. These it dropped to the ground between Eensha and the Sith.

“These heads—helments. From Sith. From long days ago, days of Wickett. We use as drums for ceremonies. Wakti know where more hel-ments stay. Wakti take you there. You find great treasures Ewoks not understand, maybe you do.”

Eensha nodded to Watki, who stood to attention, his warriors falling in behind him. He looked to the red giants and held his arm in the air.

“When in the dark,” he said as he passed Aelvedaar, “follow the nearest light.”

And on they walked, led by the brave and proud Wakti, into the vast forests of the moon of Endor. Many minutes went by as the trudged through the shaded groves, and although the sun shown brightly overhead it seemed as if twilight had descended at times. Minutes turned to an hour, and after some time it became difficult to track the passage of time.

Large birds flew from branch to branch, and occasionally Phalomir could hear the call of some wild beast as it moved through the woods. Perhaps it was searching for a mate, or perhaps it was calling its brethren to join in a hunt. All that was certain is that the Ewoks were showing no signs of stopping.

Phalomir turned his head to check on Aelvedaar. The Dark Lord was wet with sweat and looking quite worse for wear. Phalomir then realized he himself was feeling the burn of the hike and called out “Water!”

The Ewoks stopped and turned, regarding the Sith with inquisitive stares.

“Water, we both need to rest, and to drink.” Phalomir made a motion with cupped hands to simulate drinking, and one of the Ewoks gasped and ran to them, swinging the bladder of water from its back and handing it to Phalomir. He in turn handed it to Alevedaar and helped the Dark Lord sit gently to the ground. He lowered himself next to Aelvedaar and leaned against a tree.

After a few minutes Phalomir turned his head to Aelvedaar. He wanted to say something, anything, but Phalomir’s thoughts were with Jharmeen.

“So,” he eventually began. “I have not yet felt my powers returning. I do wonder what has blocked them from us. Perhaps if Jharmeen has regained her abilities by moving away from this planet, the she has surely healed herself…. but what if this goes beyond us? Beyond here?”

Phalomir shook his head.

“I am sorry, my brother. My thoughts are often clouded by what I feel. I was much scolded as a boy for this. In fact, I was told many times by my fath--”

He paused, recalling a vivid memory of his father standing over him, lecturing him on how emotions had no place in the heart of a ruler, that a true Dark Lord was a stone. He also recalled arguing back to this man, now the being known as The Master, how a lack of emotion meant the lack of a soul.

Any further discussion 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.

"Can you figure out who is Sith, and who is not?" she queried, squinting as if that alone might induce the scrolling figures into revealing something of sense to her.

"Separate mother from the others, and shoot them. Why risk facing them outright; we can safely dispatch them from the air, and then retieve mother with-- with--"

She paused a moment, chewing on her lip.

And it wasn't.

Shayla's frown darkened further. "The ship won't recognize the Sith lifesigns as anything other than humanoid, but it should pick up on any human lifeforms specifically."

She paused, her frown growing even darker. "We're only picking up two humanoid lifeforms." Shayla trailed a moment. "If the sensors are correct, your mother isn't down there; at least, she isn't with them."

"Or we could simply have a minor ship malfunction," she then commented. "It'll give us an excuse to fire, give us a reason for the delay in coming to...

...assist, and there really won't be any way for anyone to verify our claims that anything malfunctioned at all. That aside, it'll certainly give us a reason to land, act suspicious, and poke around a bit."

"Well... make sure you don't miss!" she snorted as, grudgingly, she moved to follow Shayla's orders to strap herself in.

"Then we won't have any excuse to give anybody; HMMPH!!"

From her seat her disdain swelled, filling the ship, overwhelming the others with the sheer audacity of it.

She paused, crocking a brow. "... incapacitate him and his comrade. But in either case..."

"If we just show up there, he's going to think we have something to do with why Mother isn't there with him," she pointed out, feeling very wise about this.

"After all, chances are really good she wouldn't leave his side for anything; if he and Lord Aelvedaar are on that moon, why, she should be as well. And we can pretty much believe that she is not. So, chances are also pretty good that he's not going to believe us one bit; how do you plan on beguiling him into telling us all he knows about this hidden lab anyway?

"I think there's somebody else who might be more disposed to seeing things our way. I say shoot now, and find Mother later."

Her eyes darkened, for truly all she wanted was to rid herself of those whom she just knew would cause them no end of trouble in the long run. Lord Phalomir was, in her eyes, not only a great threat, but also someone she itched to take revenge upon for how he had treated her in the past.

To Hell with what he might or might not know; which also just happens to be somewhere I know I can find out at least some of the answers that we seek...

"And besides, if we end up having to get physical, just who do you think is going to be able to get the upper hand on him?" she finished with, then casting something meant to be close to an apologetic look at Panthar.

“I thought I had made it clear what the best approach would be,” he said. “That toady is big and strong, sure, but he is also a trusting idiot who thinks I am the best friend he has. Now look down there at that pathetic site… Two Sith, and a bunch of Ewoks. Obviously something really strange has happened here, Phal wouldn’t willingly let Jharmeen out of his sight on a hostile world. And believe me, those Ewoks may look cute and cuddly but they are really nasty vicious savages who have evolved on a world filled with even nastier more vicious creatures. I’m sure Phal is in deep trouble and coping the best he can, and here we are, suddenly, to rescue them.”

Panthar sat back with his hands behind his head.

“So, really, there’s no need for frontal assaults, toe to toe combat, or even wild potshots with the big scary cannons. Just land, show open arms, and then stab them in the back like the slimy slugs we are. After all, in the end, who really cares how it happens? Just as long as they get their just desserts.”

Panthar cast a glance over to ShaRhylla, his eyebrow cocking just the slightest.

...personal manner."

For a moment, Shayla trailed, knowing what she had just stated was in fact what she meant. "I am surprised that you do not feel the same," she continued, eyeing ShaRhylla. "There is also the possibility that he has done something with Jharmeen, or perhaps Lord Aelvedaar," Shayla stated flatly, also fully believing that but going no further to validate the proposition.

"But still, ShaRhylla is right," Shayla then continued. "If we wait til he realizes we are up to something, even as much as Phalomir may trust you, we're going to have to meet his physical strength, which is significant. We can find out what has happened to Graysith in other ways."

Dirt flew up around him, blinding one eye. The sound of the blast followed immediately and Phalomir rolled to his side and wiped at his face with the sleeve of his shirt. He realized that Aelvedaar was lying next to him, and they were both exposed. More shots rang out in various directions.

“Quickly, my lord, for those trees!”

Without waiting for a reply, Phalomir rose and unceremoniously grabbed Aelvedaar and lifted. The two ran together for the cover of a fallen giant tree, the sounds of blasts still coming from behind.

Something is very wrong thought Phalomir, but that was all he had time to think before the searing heat caught him in the side. He felt his left leg give under him and his balance left him. He pushed hard against Aelvedaar’s back as he fell and send the Dark Lord sailing over the tree, while Phalomir himself crumpled to the dirt.
I am hit! he cursed silently. Pain coursed through his left side as he tried to regain his footing. His leg complained violently but he managed to make it obey. This told him that the leg was still there, and he may have caught more of the peripheral heat rather than a full blast. Still, the pain was intense as he hauled himself up and over the tree.

For it is far from being that.

"Wha--?"

The words drag from my lips like thick cement. Groggily, I attempt to raise an arm to my head, only to find its progress blocked by something furry, and silent, and sickeningly cool. I shake my head; my vision swims into focus, and I discover myself laying pinned between the bodies of two very much silent ewoks. Something rough scrapes against my tattered back; grunting, I gently extricate myself enough to turn my head a bit.

Behind me the trunk of a fallen forest giant obscures my view. I place both hands upon the loamy soil, and push up gingerly. That effort is momentarily truncated as a rush of fire sears through my entire left side; I cannot keep a grimace from erupting on my face but continue the movement, and at last gain somewhat wobbling footing.

Lord Phalomir is off to one side, obviously in pain. Small furry and burned bodies lay strewn about; small moans and wails issue forth from too few of them. And there--

"It is a ship, brother," I croak, my vocal cords seared from the heat of its great engines. I hobble to where Lord Phalomir has managed to take himself, and collapse in an untidy heap beside him. Unconsciously, I find myself hunkering lower, trying to hide beneath the futile protection of the fallen tree.

"It would seem to be an attack, Brother," I state, unwittingly answering his question which indeed never really made it into my ears. "Or else it is a terribly misfortunate malfunction of some sort; many of our group have just died."

A twinge of pain for the ewoks exacerbates the other pains coursing through my body, and I wince once again.

"I cannot determine a thing without my powers; perhaps we should attempt to find further shelter in the thick trees nearby, until we can gain more facts, and thus make a more informed decision as what it is we should do."

“The ship has landed, and from the awkward angle it sits I would hazard a guess that they did not do it willingly. I would like to believe it was a malfunction, to be sure, for if it were not then I fear this tree will not provide us protection for long. If you can move, then I agree that the denser woods may be a safer place to wait.”

Phalomir moved to his feet and, crouching, held his hand out to Lord Aelvedaar. Before the Dark Lord could respond, however, a shrill cry came from somewhere on the other side of the tree. It was a savage cry, a heart-wrenching mix of grief and anger. Phalomir glanced once again over the tree in time to see a lone Ewok – Wakti, perhaps – charging the ship. In a heartbeat he had flung his spear with deadly precision at the nearest portal, where it smashed into splinters. Wakti continued running at the ship and threw himself against the hull. He pounded his tiny arms into it over and over.

Anger descended in a rush as, composing herself as best she could, she started to rise. Shooting pains announced rather insistently that this particular muscle had been wrenched, or that certain one bruised; as a true Warrior, she utterly ignored the negative aspects of these pains and instead used them to give her the impetus she needed to finally gain her feet.

She blinked, giving her head a haughty toss, and shot Shayla an even haughtier look.

"So," she finally huffed, although a little out of breath. "We are down. I do hope you know what you are doing!"

Tottering over to where Shayla was doing something at the controls, she peered over the woman's shoulder. Things blinked and worbled at her; she hadn't a clue as to the meaning of most, nor did she care about learning. All she was interested in at the moment was one thing.

"Can you find out what is happening outside?" she asked as she drew back a bit to indicate the forward viewscreen.

"Did we kill them, or did they manage to somehow avoid being crushed or incinerated?"

Something dark flashed in the depths of her eyes, albeit with a touch of disappointment. While it was true that she had wanted to dispatch the Lords in as expedient a manner as possible, that Darkness which resided within her relished the more personal feel that actual physical contact brought with the act. And while she knew that in the Darker Realms she would have no problem with such physical contact with a being more than twice her size, getting him there would be another matter.

As much as she wanted to flail out against the two, she realized that by comparison she was likely to be no more than a gleeberfly to them; the thought that, at least until her powers returned, she would undoubtedly be no more than some minor annoyance was more than she could bear.

"And what do you mean, 'in other ways'?" she ended with, rearing back and crossing her arms in front of herself.

Shayla trailed, chewing her lip a bit. "--then that means she either flew off planet herself or was taken by another. In either circumstance, i can think of only a handful of places she would go to. Unless of course they have already killed her," Shayla then stated darkly.

"As to whether they have been destroyed or not," Shayla said, changing the subject somewhat abruptly and beginning to key something on the navboard once more, "It would seem---"

Shayla's words were cut off suddenly as something she couldn't identify impacted the ship with a thud. The initial impact was followed by a rhythmic, somehow angry poundings.

Shayla got to her feet, her greeny-blue eyes flashing in irritation. "Someone is beating on the hull of the ship, and doing gods know what else to it. This is our only mode out of here; I'll not have it destroyed."

Unconciously, her hand wandered to brush the hilt of the blade she was given on K'eel Doba.

"Either your ship has a terribly thin skin, or whatever is out there beating upon it is very big," she observed. Once again she raised a hand to indicate the forward view screen.

"Perhaps you might want to see what the outside danger is, before we simply parade out into it?"

Although she was no coward when it came down to a fight -- indeed, her Mother's short sword was already grasped in her hand -- she was no fool. She knew that her own prowess depended much upon her powers, and without them there was a very good chance she might go out there and lose in one-on-one combat. Death and the Darker Realms held no terrors for her, but she had a task to finish in this dimension; it would do no good to have her body slain.

Again...

For it simply took too long a time to prepare it for re-entry into the human plane. If she even could; for the first time she wondered why those she had given herself to had not spilled forth into the Galaxy, eager to rend and tear and destroy. Powers appeared to have vanished, and they had spoken to her; certainly they would find the mewling beings here an easy enough target? The fact that not so much as one imp had made an appearance unsettled her, gave her pause to wonder that perhaps the mysterious loss of powers extended into that dimension as well.

No need to go parading off inot an unknown situation. Especially considering they still had the ships sensors about them...

Shayla whirlded and returned to the navboard, her eyes gazing first through the viewscreen to the land beyond. For the most part all she could see were tree branches...

...which didn't go very far in helping them determine just what might be out there pounding on the ship. So she reached to activate her sensor array...

...and then paused, thinking better of it.

"I would activate the sensor array, but doing so will cause our antannae to come up, which may in turn draw the attention of whatever is pounding on the ship," she pointed out. "If we want to see just who or what is out there without risking our own skins, the sensor array needs to stay intact."

Quieting for a moment then, Shayla seemed to be bracing herself for Rhylla's caustic reply for the barest of moments, but then she pressed on with a newly forming idea.

"I'm going to activate the hull's ray shield. Whatever is out there pounding won't be doing so for much longer unless it likes the feel of electricity shooting through it...

...and then we can just wait it out a few minutes and see if anything wanders its way into our viewscreen to see just who or what might be inside." Shayla paused, keying in a few condes on the navboard to activate the ship's small but effective particle shield.

"Whatever is out there may sound angry, but I doubt whomever or whatever will be anticipating this."

No sooner had Shayla said as much when their ears were pierced by an audible screech, followed by the sound of something razor-sharp sliding down the hull of the ship like rancor claws on a tarmac. Then the obnoxious thudding on the ship's hull went dead silent.

“No!” shouted Phalomir. He motioned for the Ewok to follow then headed for the trees to the right. But Watki’s lack of motion forced Phalomir to pause.

“Very well, my brave friend,” said Phalomir. He glanced around at the splintered trees and smoldering vegetation – and the occasional charred Ewok. His heart raged at this and he ducked down to a large thick branch that had been severed from its tree. “But we are no match for this beast unarmed. There are people inside, and perhaps we should level the playing field.”

Phalomir lifted the branch with a grunt and steadied it in his powerful arms. He then leaned forward and charged at the ship, pointing the heavy log like a lance at the starboard cannon. At the last second he pushed the log forward and dove to the side, the log smashing into the cannon at the turret connection, bending it inward and rendering it immovable. The angle was enough so that if the cannon was undamaged enough to fire, it would possibly graze the hull.

‘I doubt either of you will need weapons,” he said casually. “If they buy the malfunction story then a display of arms will merely cause them to disbelieve it. And if anyone should be the first to exit this ship it should be me. Not to say the radiant beauty of the Dark Lady would not knock them off their feet, nor would they be any match for the witty charm of Shayla… but if you recall, neither of you were on the best of terms with Phalomir or any of the gang recently. If I emerge first and explain the situation then we have a better chance of catching them off guard. If they survived, that is. Did they? Or was that an Ewok pounding on the ship?”

She cast her face toward the deck, letting her hair fall down to hide her features, and quickly stepped away, as if those outside could see her as well as they in turn could see them. A shiver ran through her, making her hug herself as if to contain it; indeed, there were enough arms without the ship to rend them all into tiny bits should the Dark Lord not believe their story.

"Panthar is right," she admitted grudgingly, inwardly seething for the fact that she no longer had the capability of simply wishing those standing on the jungle floor into obscurity. "We must keep to our plan; let them think the stroke with which you smote them happened because our ship was damaged in the crash. Send Panthar out to them; let us see how well he can mislead them. I-- I need a moment to prepare for doing thus myself."

Fresh air poured into the depressurized cabin, along with sunlight and the smells of the forest. Panthar waited for the steps to descend then stepped out. He grasped the light railing and staggered a bit, shielding his eyes from the sun and peering into the space in front of the ship.

“Panthar?” he called out. “If that is truly you, I am awash in mixed emotions.”

Panthar continued to step down from the ship and hit the ground.

“I am so sorry, my friend!” he cried out. “We were tracking life signs from orbit and found something that didn’t look quite right, and hoped it was you. But something happened; Shayla is still trying to figure it out. Maybe we hit something, I don’t know, but it took some pretty fancy flying to get off as easy as we did there. Everything was going off on its own! Shields, sensors, flares, and unfortunately, guns. This is just terrible; I don’t know what to say. But are you hurt? And Jharmeen?”

Phalomir relaxed slightly. Something was niggling in the back of his mind, but he could not identify it and passed it off as empathy for his Ewok companion at the senseless loss of so many.

“Jharmeen is not with me, she was seriously injured and I sent her off for help. I am not hurt badly, mere scrapes. I was fortunate, unlike these Ewoks. Shayla is with you, then?”

“Of course she is!” said Panthar, stepping forward. “We’ve been looking for you! Ever since things went haywire everywhere, we’ve been trying to get the old gang back together so we can figure out what to do. Is Jharmeen far? We have medical supplies on board.”

That feeling intensified. Phalomir paused, recalling the last time he had he seen Shayla. So much had happened since then, but he still remembered nearly sacrificing himself to remove the darkness within her and Jharmeen. Much as he had nearly killed Panthar to remove the darkness from him on Korris’ian. He struggled to recall when he last parted ways with either of them, and remembered at least that it was on Khar Delba.

Why was he struggling with his thoughts? Something was not right.

His leg was suddenly enveloped by a warm numbness, and a distinct wetness seemed to trickle down his calf. Watki glanced down at the Sith’s leg and looked up sharply at his face. This drew Phalomir to look down where he could see the ground around his foot turning a liquid violet color. He stepped back carefully and propped himself against the huge fallen tree.

Her eyes slitted.

Quieting then, Shayla took a few moments to gather herself and to determine just what sort of persona she needed to portray in order to make their supposed crash convincing to Phalomir. Not to mention how she could best elicit the information from him that she wanted. Setting herself to that task, Shayla then began to follow in Panthar's footsteps to exit the ship. About midway to the hatch, however, she paused, a thought occuring to her. If the ship had truly crashed under her control, she would be back in the engines trying to find out exactly what had happened, and should look like she had been investigating the reason for the crash when she did leave the Preon. She took a few extra minutes to do what would appear to be exactly that, and made sure to ruffle her hair and get engine fluid smudges here and there on her hands and face and even on her clothes.

Satisfied with her appearance and feeling like sufficient time had passed for her to truly be looking at a possible manulfunction, Shayla headed to the hatch and began departing the Preon, her pace rushed as though she were concerned about who or what she may have hit in their dangerous entry and landing on the planet.

"Panthar, is anyone or anything hurt?" she called out, concern in her words. About half-way down the ramp of the ship, as she continued to scan the area with worry in her eyes, she saw Panthar and Phalomir...

...and immediately noticed the pool of blood at the latter's feet. His red skin seemed somewhat pale as well. Shayla gasped in alarm, and ran back into the ship, getting the emergency medical kit. In a few brief moments she descended the ramp again, medkit in hand, and rushed to Phalomir.

"I am so sorry!" she said to him, worry in her eyes and voice as she took a moment to scan the area. Shayla surveyed the fallen Ewok bodies, and tears actually formed in her eyes. She then turned to look at Phalomir once more. "You need some serious medical attention, now," she commented firmly. "And you need to get off your feet."

She paused to place the medkit on the ground and open it, retrieving a large bandage and some other supplies. Then she turned to Panthar. "I need your help," she said, knowing that Phalomir would not be standing much longer at the rate he was loosing blood. Then, the concern in her voice not at all an act, she finished with, "Has he said where Jharmeen is?"

“He has not,” he said, his voice steady despite the shake in his hand. “Jharmeen was injured and needed medical attention. I sent her away for help, hoping that I could find help off this planet.”

He neglected to mention certain details, to be sure. But that was in response to his niggling feeling, and more recent memories of Shayla’s behavior. But still, he had helped to drive the Darkness from her and Jharmeen both, had he not? Surely that was the reason for her actions back then.

Shayla trailed, lowering her face and tending to Phalomir's major wound. She did not look back up or speak for several moments.

"...and then followed the trail here," she finished, not deigning to mention anything regarding loss of powers. That had happened after everyone had been seperated, and she did not know what Phalomir may or may not know regarding it. Until she did, she chose instead not to speak of it. Securing the bandage around Phalomir's leg, Shayla looked up once more, a frown on her face.

"We could help those Ewoks who are injured...

...but I fear they may be afraid of us after all that has occurred. Coming out of orbit and into atmosphere, the navboard short circuited and systems went haywire. I need to get the ship somewhere to have it looked at. Systems are currently down and seem stable, but I do not know if or when this may happen again."

“K’khil? Yes, it was him. We had used a portal to travel, but something went wrong and we ended up here. This is a dangerous place, and…”

Strange, half memories flashed before Phalomir’s eyes. Turbulent, vague memories of a temporary madness. Violent images, and despite his regaining of his senses, contrary to his best efforts...

“…Jharmeen was hurt. Badly. I don't know how exactly, a fall I think. K’khil found us, but his ship was small and could only carry one. So he took Jharmeen.”

Phalomir’s eyes had cast back to the ground. Grief and guilt fought to consume him once more, using his blood loss as a convenient route past his better judgment. He shook his head and looked back up to Shayla. Suddenly that feeling was back, screaming from a dark pit in his mind that something was not right.

Some time ago, but really not that long, Shayla and Jharmeen had both fallen victim to that strange force they called the Darkness. It fled from them in the Darker Realms when the Master had brought forth a mysterious clone of Phalomir, mistaken for the original. He had felt that feeling before then, when Shayla had attacked everyone with her powers. He had felt it also when Panthar was briefly infected by this parasite. He felt it constantly in the Darker Realms.

“I do not know where he took her,” he said. “Back to the Sith worlds, perhaps,” he lied. “But you? Are you well? Have you rescued Shawn and found Erik?”

Why did he still feel this… feeling? Why now? There was no Darkness, nothing to be alarmed about. It was gone from Shayla, gone from Panthar. It only existed in that clone, and perhaps…

“And did anyone come with you?” he asked.

Shayla paused, "She is with us."

The words fell into silence for a long moment, and Shayla let her greeny-blues lock on Phalomir's eyes as she read someting dark creeping deeply within. For the moment, she shifted the subject, intentionally...

...but the emotion she was speaking with was utterly raw and real.

"When magicks started popping in and out on Khar Delba, devices operated by them began to fail."

She quieted another moment, standing and turning away as her eyes darkened and grew vague. "The incubator holding my son stopped working. He is dead."

Shayla's voice dropped off, and she hung her head slightly. For several eternal moments, all that could be heard were the sounds of the Endor forest. But at length, she continued.

"Shawn is safe, and Erik..."

She trailed another moment, as if trying to find the words. "He is gone. With the loss of the baby it was just...

“I am sorry for your losses,” he said, his voice low and sincere. “It is a terrible, terrible thing to lose a child. It is a pain that never heals.”

A strange feeling of knowing crept within him, as if he had first hand experience of these feelings. He sighed and leaned forward, reaching out with his long arm and placing his hand on Shayla’s shoulder.

“But other pains do heal,” he continued. “Mistakes are made, hearts are broken, and people forgive each other. In the end, if it is meant to be, Erik will heal and return.”

Phalomir stood gingerly, still light-headed, and supported his weight on his uninjured leg.

“You found me here, against all odds, and that goes beyond coincidence. Yes, there is a greater meaning to what we do here, and a grander scale to it all. I am glad to have you all back. And we must find Jharmeen, she was taken to--”

“You were wonderful, my dear,” he said. “A born actress. I will inform our lady and allow her to deal the final blow.”

Panthar blew Shayla a kiss and laughed. He stepped to the side and turned towards the damaged ship.

But then he looked up.

The other red being had just attacked Phalomir, then called to the death-dealing ship.

Wakti stood, his hand instinctively wishing to reach for the spear that lay on the ground before him, once belonging to his fallen friend. But something told him to wait, that attacking the red being would be fruitless in this case. He glanced at the ship, remembering how his own spear had splintered against it.

No, not attack... retreat, find help.

Wakti stepped backwards, his small frame moving silently. He then ducked low and sprinted for the close protection of the trees. Once there he moved quickly but quietly from tree to tree, circling the clearing under the cover of the forest, making his way to the other side of the clearing where he knew the other giant red being was hiding. He had seen Phalomir practically throw that one away from the carnage caused by the ship, and his instinct screamed to find this being.

He glanced through the trees at the ship, and was surprised to see both the human female and the cowardly red being still where they had been. This distracted him enough that he did not see the prone Aelvedaar on the ground before him until red hand grabbed Wakti by the fur and pulled him to the ground.

"Shush now, shush!"

The voice in which I scold him is low, scarcely above a whisper, for I have no idea of what is transpiring -- or in fact has transpired -- since my Dark Brother left to determine the status of the situation now facing us. The fact that a frantically running ewok was the one to return, one whose movement through the trees was not only crackling with urgency but performed in a silence so profound as to be unheard by any ears other than a Sith's, is enough to raise more than mere suspicions as to my Brother's possible fate; it would do us no good to advertise our hidden presence to whoever captained that mysterious ship.

I frown, tightening my grip until his struggles cease and he gains control over his vocal chords. Only then do I remove my hand, now placing a warning finger across my own lips.

"What is it, little one, that sends you back in such a state? Has something happened to Lord Phalomir?"

I cannot help but wince slightly as the questions depart me, for upon their backs is carried yet another stab of pain from my side. A stealthy investigation of fingers reveals the presence of a hot, wet liquid; they gleam reddish-violet when I raise them to my eyes. I sigh then, aware that not only may I be injured a bit more seriously than I would like, but I do not have so much as a bandage, let alone my normal healing prowess, which to apply to myself. Clearly a case of "physician, heal thyself" gone seriously wrong.

Apparently Shayla is proving her worth, she thought to herself, not even bothering to consider the fact that yes, while the young blonde woman had indeed been engaged in conversation with Lord Phalomir, she herself had been unable to hear exactly what had been said.

Much less see her face, to thus read any emotion that might have flicked across it. All she had was a view of her backside, about which she had seen the movement of Panthar as he stealthily and quite efficiently dispatched her enemy.

Perhaps he was too successful!

The dark thought creased her features in an even darker scowl, sent shivering ripples of sweet, savory anger and hatred rushing through her body.

I want that delight; if he has killed him, he will pay with his own soul!

Nevermind the disquieting thoughts that had formerly danced throughout her; nevermind the possibility that perhaps all powers were nullified, even in the Darker Realms. All she had was that which was left in her, that which was indeed part of her being, and that darkness yowled and slavered for revenge and death and blood.

She didn't let one whit of this touch her features, but straightened her head and marched regally toward the hatch. An impatient slap or two about its frame finally met with the controls, and it slid upward, revealing a satisfying tableau spread out before her:

Lord Phalomir crumpled silent on the ground. Shayla's back still facing her, but now in motion as she began to turn in her direction. Panthar standing, victorious, on the other side of the fallen Dark Lord, his raised hand now landing cockily upon his hip. All this framed by myriad tiny, furry bodies, all splayed out in unnatural positions of death.

She smiled, and tossed her head, tightening her grip on her short sword as she strode to meet them. She came up beside Shayla, cast a triumphant look into the woman's eyes, utterly oblivious to any emotion that might be raging beneath the waters of the greeny-blue sea within them.

"First strike is to us!" she exclaimed in a savage whisper as she raised the sword, aiming its tip directly toward a killing spot between Phalomir's eyes.

"Yes," she said darkly. "I suggest he be destroyed, slowly, painfully...

Anger flashed in her eyes, eyes which then narrowed like a predator's whose prey had given it the slip. She glared at Shayla.

"I do not waste my time with such things!" she spat, her sword gripped yet more tightly in her hand. But the dark look returned to her was enough to prevent her from physically attacking the young woman; with a great, shuddery indrawn breath, the halfling lifted her lips in a snarl.

...and a rather logical, cold, and calculated reply came to mind almost immediately.

"This one is not worthy of the gift of dying quickly," Shayla clarified.

If truly ever at all, came an eerie mental addendum.

"He has used love and compassion to ensnare us all, has treated you with disdain and disrespect...

...and has withheld many secrets from us as well, secrets regarding the future that should be..." She paused for a moment, "... extracted from him. He deserves physical torment, and to die painfully and so very, very slowly. But he also deserves to know in horrible clarity all that he has lost, and how he has utterly failed. After all, the one thing that can hurt him more than death and physical pain is for your mother to realize what he truly is, turn on him....

ShaRhylla spat again, trembling with rage. Against who exactly that rage was directed didn't matter; at the moment she happened to be finding fault with the entire Galaxy along with everyone in it. But this...

"How can we get her to change her mind? You know she is pitifully in love with this, this..." She gave Phalomir's wound a vicious kick.

"Thing."

He groaned beneath her treatment, prompting her to poke the tip of her toe more delicately, more deliciously intentionally, deeper into his torn flesh. Pausing to watch his unconscious attempt to move away from what was tormenting him, she then shot another look Shayla's way.

"Look how easily he might be destroyed now," she hissed. "He is as nothing to us, nothing to me. And even if he was truly nothing to mother, what should we do with him until we get the pair of them together, so Mother can destroy him as you suggest? Should she even be persuaded to do so, that is, which is something I really doubt."

She gave the young woman a strangely scrutinizing look.

"It is almost as if you do not wish to see this one dead."

Her foot lifted in unconscious preparation of delivering another blow, but was abruptly set down with the knowledge that his body was a bit beyond its reach. ShaRhylla snorted, covering her embarrassment with herself, then let her anger flare up again.

"But we must gain the knowledge this one holds!" That is to say, she herself wanted it, wanted it badly, so as to hopefully regain her missing powers and make short shrift of those she felt were an impediment to her and her plans to rule the Sith.

And through them, the Galaxy.

Which included just about everyone in said galaxy.

She snorted again, segued that snort into a black snarl.

"What do you suggest we do now?" she finally asked, sheathing her sword even as she sent a longing glance Phalomir's way. It would be so easy, too easy; would such an opportunity ever come again? The sword paused a fraction in its sheathing, before continuing on its way, finally finding a resting place along the halfling's back.

"He knows you were speaking to him, he does not know that it was Panthar who struck him, and I do not think he knows I am even here at all. Perhaps my presence can be something to surprise him with at some later date; I leave it to you to explain to him just why he was placed in the position he now finds himself."

Giving the others a final glare, she turned in preparation of going back into hiding aboard Preon.

I had no real perception of how long I had walked in a daze through the forest. Hours, perhaps days had passed, for my eyes simply did not follow day and night. My entire life, as long as I could recall, the world had been tinted in so many various spectrum that the simple coursing of light through the canopy was dimly blinding.

But even my disorientation would come to pass. I wandered, circling in a spiral outwards from the Ewok settlement, perhaps a mile or two distant now, though it could have been ten, for all I kept track. My reverie was broken by the sudden roar of weapons-fire, the sudden stench of burning coming quickly thereafter.

I paused, staring into the trees the separated me from the settlement, and things began to come back to me. I had not come here alone. What our purpose was I could not recall, but Graysith, Phalomir... they were still out there.

She paused, her eyes shifting down upon Phalomir's listless form. Her look actually turned into one of disgust. "As for him," she growled, actually stepping near to him and squatting. At first one might think that she was about to once more play the role of a nurse maid,, but as she turned to the bandage she had tightened about his wound, Shayla ripped it from where it had been placed. "We only need him alive for the moment, to tell us what he knows, but most certainly not in the greatest health."

She stood, holding the bloodied bandage almost like a banner. "He believes what I have told him, or at least he did." she ammended. "For all he knows he was attacked by an animal, or something else. I think he most certainly needs to thus suffer even more damage to render him in need of our most tender care.

She shot the obstinately silent Panthar another glower, and was about to reply when a distant noise came into her attuned half-Sith ears.

"Someone comes," she said tersely, meanwhile bending her knees slightly, ready to move quickly in any direction should quick action be required of her.

"This might be the other humanoid your sensors picked up."

She quieted then, focusing her hearing upon the surrounding forest, through which something or someone was quickly approaching.

I wound my way through the woods, for despite the sudden loss of my powers, I was still in incredible shape. There was a small rise ahead, from which smoke rose. My pace slowed to a trot and I slowly clambered up the slope on fingertips and feet, keeping the lowest profile while still moving at a decent pace.

I came atop the rise, and froze as my eyes fell upon those who my eyes had not lain upon in so long.

Shayla, whom I had long presumed either dead or injured by my ambush when she had so fool-heartily attempted to follow me from the palace.

A Sith, whom I could not recall the identity of, though his bulk made for an intimidating enough figure in this setting.

But the figure who held my gaze in the strongest way...

"ShaRhylla..." I whispered. Though we had last parted with scorn between us, she still held my heart with a fist made of nails.

Rykounagin!

Of all the people in the entire galaxy, in the entire multiplex of universes that existed in the Great Out There, he was the last one she ever expected to see again.

He left her... abandoned her, left her behind in that base on that moon, or asteroid, what was it? She couldn't remember although the memory should be seared into her brain, emblazoned within the cytoplasm of every cell in her body... but simple shock flung the memory beyond her recall. So all she could do was remain stone still, aware now more than ever of her lack of powers, wondering fleetingly if he yet possessed his own, wondering if she should attack him, or if he would attack her.

So many quandaries, accusations; too many questions seeking answers... and she suddenly found herself completely without the ability to even begin voicing them. Let alone move. And deep within her, that darkling evil yet entwined around every iota of that which she was yowled in pain, aware that a possible glimmer of light might be readying itself against it. Scrabbling, it reached out, finding her heart, and there fought mightily to squash a tiny bit of warmth which seemed to be taking seed therein.

...and something dark glimmered in them. "Stay where you are!" she hissed softly, something occurring to her even as adreline coursed through her system. "Or have you come to finish the job?" she ended, keenly aware of her dark blond hair bairly brushing her shoulders, having grown back mostly after her near-death experience at his very own hands.

My eyes broke from her only for a moment as the other woman shifted, gaze flickering over the hand that had gone to meet steel, though it remained shrouded for now.

My tongue parted my lips for a moment, flicking over to bring some moisture to the sudden dryness, and slowly raised a hand to the level of my stomach, palm facing downward, fingers open.

I-- I should be joining her in this! The thought finally burst into her consciousness, tearing its way through the shock and lending movement to her muscles. She straightened, her own hand at first flickering towards her back...

...only to settle quietly at her side. Shocked, she found the figure of Rykounagin to be turning blurry, strangely wavery around the edges, until with even more shock she found the distortion to be caused by the tears suddenly forming in her eyes. Unwilling to show any admittance that they were there she refused to wipe them away, but instead shook her head angrily.

Angry at him for first taking her heart then seemingly casting it beneath his boot.

But angry at herself for finding that it really did not matter. Inside, the Darkness yowled, scrabbled, sought to harden her heart, to fill her mind with blackened soot and the morass of deception. She struggled, her body swaying just the tiniest in the only indication that there was indeed a battle raging within her.

Struggling, she found voice at last. The word forced itself up a dry throat, through equally dry lips.

"Rykounagin..."

One hand left her side to momentarily lift toward him, wafted toward the fallen Phalomir, and then dropped to settle back where it had formerly lain. In close proximity to it, the Tooth of S'slan glittered with promise.

"Nothing good can come of love, only pain..."

She trailed, her eyes falling on Phalomir for a moment then growing dark. At length, however, she looked up once more, her eyes piercing the frame of Rykonagin and for the moment remaining thus.

The words flashed like lightning through ShaRhylla, bringing back another torrent of memories, those of an earlier experience concerning her first introduction to "love..." which, of course, simply wasn't. But those memories served something of a useful purpose, for in coming to her mind they brushed through her inner Darkness, reminding it of the truth in the statement, and strangely enough, satiating it.

She was used to pain, relished it, in fact.

My gaze slowly shifted between the two women, their words having greater meaning than perhaps a passive observer could have known. In this moment, perhaps, would lie the foundations of more than just the next shared meal.

Slowly I took another step forward, my other hand raising with the other, one slowly pointing out to my left, towards Shayla, the other, before me as I slowly walked towards her.

And him.

"R-rykounagin..." she breathed, all air then escaping from her body in a quick little chuff, a sound which broke the locks upon her body and set her free from frozen shock. It did not take long to run those short steps to where he stood upon the small rise, but though she came afront him with startling rapidity, something held her from throwing herself against him.

Rather, she came to a sudden halt mere inches in front of him, looking up into his face, now held higher above her for his position on the slope.

...although she perhaps soon would be. Her eyes froze on the pair who stood so closely for a long moment, that something screaming deeply within once more.

She didn't ignore it quite as much as she had in the past. But she could only spare a moment to attend to it, and her attentions focused on ShaRhylla and Rykounagin once more.

And she would fault her mother for feelings such as these, feelings she too has but has just managed to bury inside...

With effort, Shayla loosened her grip on the hilt of her sword, but only slightly. She spared one more brief moment to shift her eyes to Panthar, who stood there in bewilderment. Something of distrust glimmered deeply in her eyes, in his direction yet not directed at him, and she once more locked eyes on the pair before her. Something deep within practically expected him to suddenly strike out...

"There is no excuse." I finally breathe out, reaching out, fingers barely brushing her cheek, seeking the physical proof that she is there, and that all of this is not some brutal manifestation of a malevolent imagination.

Her eyes, lidded from sheer ecstasy, flew open and she clung for a moment to him, staring off into a blind spot behind his back, taking momentary reassurance from the sound of his beating heart.

Phalomir.

"Phalomir," she whispered in apparent non sequiteur. She drew back a bit so as to gaze up into his face again.

"Are-- are you with him?" she breathed in the quietest of voices, that breath then catching in her throat out of anxiety over how he might respond.

The words flew like molten rock from her lips, heated with joy at all the possibilities his binding words to her now promised. For indeed, she could yet be the true Dark Lady of the Sith, with Shayla ever at her side...

And he, Rykounagin... he she would formally make Dark Lord of the Diamond, over all. Together they would create the New Triad.

And we will all live happily ever after.

She melted hungrily into his embrace, letting it wash away all the uncertainties she held yammering within herself, for in spite of all her bluster she was yet very much naive. But despite that naivete, she was very much in love; she had never before truly experienced it, and having not only found it but to her mind having it now pledged once more to her, she found she did not want to give it up, ever again.

But that did not mean the Darkness was foiled within her; it did not mean she would renig on all she had promised to herself, to Shayla, and yes, to that Darkness that yet lurked inside her being.

Anything, just so I can have him...

She pulled away, the dark roiling with newfound light in her eyes, battling, intertwining with it even as she laughed and drew him by one hand back toward the ship.

"Here is our Dark Lord of the Sith, not this namby-pamby... thing!" she exulted, giving Phalomir's still-quiet yet another vicious kick. Then she paused, and looked about at her companions, melting back into Rykoungain's arms even as she did so.

"So now what do we do with him?" she asked, nodding toward the apparently still unconscious Dark Lord who lay so quiet at their collective feet.

...and for the moment, that was of great importance to her, for Shayla trusted Phalomir perhaps even less. The thought of that particular individual caused her to look downward to his pathetically unmoving form once more, and her eyes darkened again.

"He still knows things we need to know," she reminded ShaRhylla. "And since he did believe what I said until Panthar chose to knock him out..."

She trailed, somethinng perhaps even darker flickering in her eyes, "...we could simply tellhim the truth regarding what happened, especially since Rykounagin did come here with him...

...he doesn't have to suspect a thing regarding what we are going to do until we know what we need to know. And after all, the truth is the only thing better than a really good scapegoat."

Quieting at that, she cast a sticky sweet smile Panthar's way...

...and then turned back to meet ShaRhylla's eyes with her own.

For it knew that what it scrabbled after would yet see fruition, and quite easily. The fact that its hostess was floating on a cloud of emotion didn't dissuade or anger it; instead, it found these new, softer feelings to have an extremely useful purpose. That being that under their influence, ShaRhylla would be far more apt to be softer toward Phalomir.

All the better to fool him by, until the time would come for him to meet those who awaited him with such deep hunger in the Darker Realms.

So ShaRhylla just nodded, and turned to Panthar.

"Carry him aboard our ship," she commanded, nevermind that it still wasn't "her" ship.

"Put him somewhere that he can, well... get better."

She watched while the apparently dumbfounded Panthar meekly obeyed, disappearing within the dark hatch of the ship with the hulking form of Phalomir in his arms. Then she whirled to Rykounagin, threw her arms about his neck and, raising up on her tiptoes, gave him a joyous kiss.

"Shall we leave, then, my love?" she asked, but suddenly paused. Well she knew of the man's background; for a moment she took her eyes away and looked down to the ground, embarrassed.

"Unless you have a better strategy?" she asked in a voice so uncharacteristically quiet for her.

"Being what my knowledge is of your intent, for now we shall abide by it." I mean not to use the word in a chastising manner, but it may come off that way regardless. "Let us get out of this forest. It wearies me, as I'm sure it does for us all."

"Get over it already!" she growled at the hulking Sith, not quite certain why she said what she did or even if she was really talking to Panthar at all. And then she turned and headed into the ship, ready to be off this miserably green world.

Aelvedaar was potentially still out there, and gods knew who and what else. After all, Rykounagin had appeared from literally no where...

Shayla didn't entertain that little morsel, but went about the business of warming the ship, her mind trained on what she was doing but still keenly aware of the movements behind her. "The place with the devices that Phalomir took me to is somewhere on Khar Delba," Shayla indicated. "At any rate, I assume we will be heading back towards the Sith worlds?"

She let the final fall as a question of sorts, and she suddenly found herself hoping that a decision of sorts would be made quickly. How she longed to know what secrets may lie in that place...

...and how she longed to know every secret Phalomir might know, while he yet lived...

"Yes, let us go to the Diamond, to Khar Delba, if that is where these devices are hidden. I have no knowledge if they are on K'eel Doba, so I cannot say you nay in this, even though I would rather return home..."

She let her sentence trail off into an expectant silence, giving Rykounagin a suddenly intent look. For having now found him, she didn't want to lose him again. She could scarcely bear to harbor the mere thought of it.

"Perhaps there we-- we might be wed...?"

Catching her bottom lip between delicate fangs, she glanced to the deck beneath her feet, aware that certain others were undoubtedly agog at the turn-around in her behavior.

That is something now, however, that does whisper in the corner of my mind. What of Shayla? Surely the reunion with my love will not deter her hatred for me, nor quell any potential mutual animosity.

But that is not the question for the present.

I turn my thoughts back to the abattoir nymph who still holds close, her demeanor more that of a kitten, eager for the consented joy its master could bring; not to say I had such sway over her.

The Preon, although damaged, managed to spread her wings and waft into space beyond fairly gracefully, with only a slight shudder here and there.

"She should be able to hit hyperspace, even with the damages to her systems," Shayla observed, to no one in particular. Then she keyed the coordinates to Khar Delba into the navboard. The navboard hummed an electrical little purr, processing the data.

And then the indicator that their hyperspace route was calculated and locked in glowed red. Shayla punched the button, and the space before them all turned into starlines. Shayla kept her eyes on the navboard for a few minutes, still paying little mind to what was going on with her companions. Then, satisfied that they were safely in hyperspace, she turned.

"Unless of course you intend to reserve the private quarters for our guest." The idea is annoying to contemplate, admittedly, but perhaps securing him would be a prudent choice.

Her eyes somehow set to the new task of watching over Phalomir and Panthar, she stood. "Our ETA is approximately 12 standard hours, and the ship is set on course. All should be taken care of here," she then continued, indicating the navboard, "Until it is time for reversion."

Saying nothing further, Shayla stepped out of the cabin of the Preon, motioning Panthar to folow her aft and then directing him to lay Phalomir's unmoving form on the medcot. She redressed his wound, but not quite as neatly as she had done so before...

He wasn’t sure still of what was happening, but ever since that boy – Rykounagin, yes that was his name – showed up, there was a strange conflict within him that he was having difficulty understanding. The power within him, that strange bubbling blackness that was so confident and mean, it had paused at that moment. Feelings had rushed through him in that instant, although he knew those feelings were not his. Anger, betrayal, and what, jealousy? Why was he feeling this?

Then he realized two things.

First, those feelings were not his at all, but were coming directly from the sickly black thing that had controlled him. It was thoroughly enraged, badly hurt, and roiling in its own anguish.

But that led to the second realization. Panthar was no longer in its direct control. Sure, it still was there and not letting go completely, but Panthar was able to think for himself. But he felt it unwise to let this gem of knowledge escape and merely nodded when he was instructed to move.

The darkness within had wanted to move to the pair as they stood in the clearing… and bash their heads together. But it had not moved, it couldn’t.

Then once aboard the ship it wanted to drop Phalomir and take off, leaving all to their own fate in the wild forest. But it did not.

So now here Panthar stood, aboard the ship, Phalomir safe for the moment and the strangest of things taking place. In fact, he was amazed to feel his own control growing stronger with each passing moment.

But the words that passed his lips were shared nonetheless, both he and the darkness within speaking them.

“We cannot return to the Sith worlds,” he said quietly. His voice cracked slightly, the darkness within was losing its grip more and more. “You know as well as I that no good can come from this.”

He then glanced down at Phalomir, wondering for a moment how much damage he had done to the Dark Lord.

Yes, the Dark Lord… that is indeed what he was. He pondered briefly what fate lay in store for Phalomir, Graysith, and indeed the Sith.

“These two cannot be allowed to rule the Sith,” he whispered, his voice soft against the hum of the ship.

"We're in a small ship that is moving through hyperspace at remarkable speeds," Shayla then said, a somewhat dark look in the depths of her greeny-blues. "What do you plan to do? Open the hatch and push them out?"

She let the statement fall for a moment, an unpleasant sort of amusement pulling at the corners of her lips. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you might be a little jealous. After all, you were practically spouting sonnets in ShaRhylla's general direction before Rykounagin showed up. Interesting, how that suddenly ahas changed."

Shayla paused then, keenly interested in Panthar's sudden shift in thinking...

...and having suspicions regarding its true origin. She spoke nothing of that, however, her look shifting to something that was unreadable.

But it must have been good, judging by the words she retorted to him.

Indeed, my love is an assassin, and not just of the run-of-the-mill variety! Her former hauteur puffed up within her once again, bolstered with the knowledge that her love and betrothed was stronger perhaps than either of the pair truly understood. She leaned more heavily against him, then spoke up, not to subtly reminding them of her presence.

"You will..." She paused fractionally, grimaced, than went on. "...please announce when we have arrived at Khar Delba. I wish to be with you all when we land; indeed, the Home of the Sorcerers has no spaceport, so you will undoubtedly need some assistance in finding a place to set down. My presence will be helpful when you are contacted by those on the ground."

I glance back out the door before keying it shut, and again smile to my betrothed.

"Hmmm..." she pondered aloud, a delicate fang peeping slyly from her lips as she even more delicately chewed upon them.

"Well... Mother supposedly had gone to Endor's moon, there to seek our Dark Lord Phalomir." Her nose wrinkled in disgust at the mere mention of the title. "But I don't know if she is yet there or not. Things have become very...

"Strange."

She lifted a slender hand, waved it around in a somewhat ineffectual manner before letting it drop back to support her position on the edge of the bed. Wriggling now, she crossed her legs, planted her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands.

"I don't think Mother deserves to be Dark Lady any longer," she observed candidly, even though she was more than aware that her prior reference to Rykounagin as being Dark Lord himself undoubtedly had already given him light on this subject. "And Phalomir, well... He just deserves to die."

She paused a moment as the Darkness within her perked its ears at this, raising its figurative head in anticipation of the potential demise of yet another sentient being. A tiny thread of drool silvered its way from the corner of her mouth; unconsciously, she licked at it, cleaning herself like a cat.

"It still talks to me, you know."

She didn't specify. Somehow she knew Rykounagin knew very well exactly what it was to which she so succinctly referred.

"Shayla feels it, too," she finished, moving her hands behind her now and leaning out against them.

Perhaps it had always been.

Or perhaps, it was a minor justification for wickedness in the minds of those who needed it. If that was the case though, it was likely that I'd hear it.

"Tell me of yourself, Rykounagin," she began in turn. "What has transpired with you? Where did you go when you-- when we..."

She faltered a moment, pinning her eyes on the ceiling overhead.

"I was out for blood. This I do recall." I chuckle quietly. "But it seems if I cannot recall the who, then I shall not have it." I smile and let myself fall upon my side as well, letting fingertips tease the side of her stomach for a moment.

"You have somehow... changed, Rykounagin," she said even more softly, even as the formerly erupting Darkness yowled in protest at such syrupy sweetness coming from her.

"I-- I like this."

She paused, suddenly shy, yet another emotion being a complete oxymoron to what most beings thought of as her natural behavior. The idea of that popped unbidden into her head, propelled there by the flaming eyes of her beloved warrior father.

What would Lord Roan think of this?

"ShaRhylla is too young," he said. "And she does not know what it is she does nor who it is that she angers."

This he knew, there was no need for the darkness to prompt him for this, even if it could. He was unsure as to just how he was able to keep his mind clear, but the thing within him was not even trying to take control again. But he was fully aware of the horrors of the Darker Realms, and the power that he had felt when the darkness had taken him. He was aware of the feelings towards ShaRhylla that this thing harbored, powerful feelings of love and ownership.

"She is stepping beyond her authority, making unwise decisions that threaten the..."

The what? Although privy to much, Panthar was not really aware of what it all meant. What was the...

"Perhaps for the better, then."

...Whose plan?"

She quieted a moment, regarding Panthar with something that at least appeared to be idle curiosity. In all honesty, she was really tired of the very idea of a Mystical Game that was being played...

...although she far from dismissed the idea that there very well might be one.

Within ShaRhylla's mind came a hissed voice, weak and crackly.
Tell him nothing. He must be sacrificed.

Weak.

And weakness was something that she, as a warrioress, despised. She lifted her chin in defiance, spoke up in an even, if somewhat overly-loud, voice.

"The Dark Lord pretender once took Shayla to a hidden place on the world of the Sorcerers, a place which held secreted devices. It is believed that these devices might be beyond the reach of whatever foul thing it is that is blocking me from my powers, and that when we use them they might be restored to me again."

She paused again, shot a sideways glance away from Rykounagin, as if seeking someone... or something.

"Or to anybody else, for that matter," she finished defiantly, letting something of herself turn inward in expectation of what she felt might be suddenly erupting within her again, bracing herself for what might come.

"Pursuit of such technology is, I think, of the greatest importance. I would of course, second that only to our wedding." I smile and lean forward, planting a gentle kiss upon her lips.

Again the voice crackled.

He paused, realizing that his voice had changed from the controlled deep drone that his uninvited guest had forced upon him back to his own human-like cadence. He cleared his throat.

“I am a pawn to no-one,” he said, trying to resume the deep voice. “You know what plan I speak of. To kill the Dark Lords and Lady and take the Sith in a new direction, but under the guidance of those who know best, not a pair of young, snot-nosed kids.”

If she rebelled, did she have enough of what Entaris had filled her with to stand up to this Dark, this strange yet somehow familiar voice which remained so obstinately silent within her for so long, letting her bewail her languished loss of powers all by herself, locked in her chambers of her own accord, letting her follow her own footsteps...

...only now to suddenly begin writhing within, seeking control? What was this, anyway?

"You are not Entaris," she whispered, unaware that she had spoken the words aloud. A very great part of her trembled at her own affrontery... then stiffened.

I am the daughter of Roan! she snarled. NO ONE COMMANDS ME!

Especially something so suddenly and so pitifully... weak.

"Our wedding day shall be cause for celebration!" she said, still speaking in a somewhat defiant tone but turning now to Rykounagin. She reached out, grasped him, stared up into his eyes.

If you leave me again, what then shall happen to me? I will be no longer of the Dark; I will be alone, and--

She snipped the thought in half, refusing to follow it to its logical conclusion. It was the first time such a thought had ever crossed her mind, the first time she had ever come remotely close to admitting in her own mortality. Despite the fact that it had been already taken from her...

Only to be given to her again.

By her Mother.

She blinked, shuddered away from that final admittance like a frightened colt, and suddenly threw herself against Rykounagin.

...she has the right to choose who she will to be with. Let the Sith decide for themselves who they want to rule them and lead them into glory."

She paused, her eyes slitting slightly as she was mentally reminded of something. "I think you've been in that Sith body so long you've forgotten that you--like myself--are not Sith at all. You were chosen to be a part of all this, as was I."

At least, for the time being... came a mental rejoinder.

Inwardly, I shake the notion that something else could be at work here, and hold her close, her final words bringing to my senses something I would not have ever expected to hear from her. Fear.

From her I had seen fury, defiance, and perhaps once even doubt. Love, naturally, but fear? This was not something I would have ever expected of her.

But the name. That is what came back to bother me, even as I embraced her closely, laying there in the dim light of another passenger's chamber, the name echoing through my mind. Entaris? Who was this? And for that matter, what sort of person were they to my love? So many questions brought of such a small number of words.

"Of course..." I murmur, even as my fingers tangle through her fiery hair, pulling her close to my chest, breathing in that spiced yet somehow darker musk of her scent.

Then silence.

"I-- I... " she began, nipping herself off before she could actually stoop so low as to apologize. But, would wonders never cease, she did recognize the need Rykounagin held for--

For what?

For explanation concerning her rather strange behavior, most certainly.

Long she peered up into his face, taking strength from him, finding her own self and putting it back into place.

"You have questions, my love."

The statement carried the unspoken desire that he speak them; drawing in another breath, she readied herself to reply. And only then did she realize that one hold over her had vanished.

Only to be replaced by another.

“Shayla,” he said, quietly. “Of course I'm not Sith. But I am really attached to some people who are. Tell me, honestly, do you want to see Graysith dead? And Phalomir, too? Do you really? Because that's exactly what will happen if ShaRhylla becomes Dark Lady. That's what the Darkness wants, though.”

He then paused, his face turning very serious.

"Our love is one of a curious union. Our histories are somewhat shadowed by silence, and perhaps a... desire, not to dirty the course of the fairytale." I smile faintly, looking 'down' at her, though it's sideways in terms of reality (minus that there is no 'up' in space).

"But I respect that we've all secrets to keep, not only for ourselves, but for each others happiness." I run my fingers through her hair again. "So the questions that I have, I will not ask. The only one that I ask, I should hope to already know the answer."

I take a moment to breathe, then ask:

"Over all other things, will you faithfully love me as I shall you, beyond all other contestants for the affections of such a beautiful woman?"

"Yes, yes," she breathed, twining her arms about his neck. "I pledge myself to you, and take you to me, for the rest of my-- for the rest of our lives."

With that she simply let herself fall, quite willingly fall away from the shackles of one particular imprisonment into that of another nature, one of silken bonds and golden restraints, one which filled her with an emotion she had never, ever felt before.

"I don't have to explain myself to you!" she hissed. "I am what I am, and nothing other than that," she continued a bit cryptically. For a long moment she let that fall into silence...

...and allowed her initial anger to abate somewhat. Only then, when she had regained full control and inscrutability, did she continue. "My feelings regarding Jharmeen should be clear," she stated then, intentionally using Graysith's true name. "But as for him," Shayla paused, pointing a long slender finger in Phalomir's direction. "You don't have any idea what he is going to do."

And that aside, some little voice whispered, Why would he stay behind and not have gone with his dearest love if she was as badly injured as he says she was...?

(((OOC: ShaRhylla, Rykounagin, Phalomir, Shayla, and Panthar, all slip into Sweet Dreams are Made of This in the Jedi/Sith Forum, thank you.)))

But then all fades into black. Perhaps it is my injuries, perhaps something else. I am helpless to discern the reason behind this quandary, but not helpless to act upon it now.

"My little friend, what has happened? You-- you were..." My brows come together in a bunch as I frown to remember, try to recall the last thing before... well, before now. I remember this one, coming all in a rush, in concern, trying to tell me something...

"What is wrong, my friend? What has happened?"

“Wakti say you awake,” came the voice of the elder Ewok from the left of the bed that held Aelvedaar. “You hurt, not move. Ewoks bring you to Eensha, tell of battle. Thing from sky make fire, kill many Ewoks. Him say Graks—no not Graks. Red man, Phally Meer, him taken by other red man and two hooman female. And hooman man. Red man hit Phally Meer, thing go back to sky.”

Wakti growled and made a cupped fist above his head with both hands together, then brought it down upon on an imaginary victim. He then spouted off a long string of guttural noises that made Eensha turn away.

A slight trickle of warmth assails my back, and I shift to relieve pressure. It would appear the injury I have is bleeding again; wincing in spite of myself, I prop an elbow on the plantstuff and hold my head upright.

"Yes, my friend, I will go with you to the place of the sky things. I will find the red man, for he is not evil but friend to us. I fear he was taken against his will, for otherwise he would certainly have returned to retrieve me."

The effort to speak drains my strength and I straighten my arm against the bed. Cradling my cheek upon that outstretched limb I blink with effort to remain conscious, urgency to go after Phalomir now fighting against the equal urgency of healing myself, that when I do finally locate him and his possible captors I might be in better physical shape to do something to truly assist him.

Wakti made a few grunts, then pointed to the hut. Eensha shook her head and clicked again. Wakti again pointed to the hut and made very assertive words. Eensha sighed and Wakti ran into the hut.

“Watki bring thing,” she said. “Thing he bring from sky people. I tell Wakti long ago things from sky people all bad, no good for Ewoks. But Wakti bring to you, think you know how it not be bad. Would show to Phally Meer when lady fall but Watki no chance. Eensha think but not know, maybe can use for heal?”

With that, Watki came bounding out of the hut clutching a silver box in his furry hands. It was large enough to be awkward for him, but light enough so he did not struggle. He reached the Dark Lord and placed it on the ground before him.

It lay upside down, but in small stenciled print affixed to what would be near the top of the box was a label. It read “Bacta Kit Mark III – EXPERIMENTAL”.

That which some have come to think of as Which Was reared its wonderful one-ness back into the omnipotent non-ness of what it was/wasn't; cradled its quite unique non-ness into the accepting arms of the all-encompassing one-ness and let go a little, virtual smile. It took a look about its non-self, taking in the grandeur of ALL there was, the ALL of which some little portions of it were now being allowed to awaken to the fact that their gradually progressing perceptions of it were on the right track.

There was a time Man thought HE was the center of it all. In response to that silliness time was given; Man then thought his little celestial body was. Then his little stellar; oh, such wonderful beings those stellars. Perhaps one day their language would finally be deciphered by the other pieces at play.

He/she/it shook a figurative head, smiled more smugly at the Progression Of Things, which albeit slow was at least on an accurate track.

One day those little motes awoke to the fact that there was more, oh indeed quite more; their tunneled little view expanded its paradigms and took a leap of faith.

Stellars existed, vast quantities of them in wonderful pin-wheeling units. At first only each individual one was recognized by the motes inhabiting it, but slowly, bit by bit, in a manner yet evolving, each little bit grew cognizant of the fact that there were more, there were hundreds, millions, billions of those units, each in turn encompassing billions of stellar brothers.

That the stellars were the true Life of the Universe was not yet understood by the little motes dwelling in the All-ness; it was enough that they now looked out toward a universe with tiny eyes that were gradually opening in recognition of the fact that perhaps the better term was in fact Universes...

"Hey, unfair move! That's partiality!" The cry from him/her/itself came from behind him/her/itself.

That-Which-Was took up some stuff of what is, coalesed it into the brilliant ultraviolet-and-chrome Eyes of which he/she/it had become quite fond, and cast them behind his/her/itself.

A figurative sigh was heaved.

"We hoped we wouldn't have noticed..." it non-said, then muttered in further rejoinder, "But a fair move had been made."

Nothing back but a snort; he/she/it sighed, and then waved a figurative hand.

The fabric of Stuff which wove together existence of both forms, be it living or non, rippled, gathered into an immensely tiny little bunch, and exploded outward in the virtual equivalent of a Big Bang.

Here and there certain motes began waking up, some in surprise, some with regret, but one by one those certain few began to wake up as if from a deep slumber.

The Other still wasn't satisfied. "We're not just giving it away!" it protested, the non-words loud and born in total effrontery.

That-Which-Was merely snorted.

"Of course not. Balance must be maintained; it must always be maintained. We know that, and some of us still know it at different degrees, at different levels than others.

"We'll see now..."

The Other muttered beneath its non-breath. "We still think you're making up the Rules as you go along! But we'll wait.

I blink, thoroughly suprised and utterly overjoyed. To test, I cast a look toward the box, smile as at my quiet command the molecules of air against one side cluster, growing denser and denser until the touch of their concerted grouping pushes the box up on one end. Now it is perfectly aligned to my vision, laying on my side as I am; quickly I lift a calming hand to the little ones who scramble hurriedly backward at this unexpected happening.

"Have no fear, my friends. You are quite safe."

Another thought strikes me; this little time can be put to good use. Thus I now allow a grunt to escape my lips as apparently straining I reach out to the box. A nearby Ewok overcomes his trepidation and tiptoes forward, to nudge it more closely to me.

Inside, I find vials of a neon blue liquid. This, I presume, is the test bacta of which the label on the box proclaims; fighting the curl which comes to my lips, for clearly I am in no need of such artificialities, I grasp up a vial in one clawed hand, and pop it open. I am no fool, however; by using that which has miraculously returned to me I eliminate the liquid even as it apparently pours into my open mouth, even as those few droplets I apply to my side seem to dribble down to cover my wound. Another slight grunt for effect, a scrinching of my eyes, and I allow them to fly open. The relief I let fly from them is not feigned.

I sit upright, suddenly and wholly healed. Rising from the sickbed, I tower over the Ewoks, even stooped as I must for the dimensions of the dwelling into which I have been placed.

"I thank you, my friends. You have this day made a friend of my people. You need not be in fear of us; should you need us to assist you in turn, all you need do is merely think of it."

Now I allow the scope of my powers to present itself as, reaching out with one clawed hand to the tiny leader, I place it against the side of her face. At that touch an instant Link is created; indeed, she may not realize all I have just done, or what it is that she should do in the event such realization ever does come upon her. It matters not; should she be in straits too dire for her people to handle, I shall know of it, and shall hasten here to return that favor.

Nodding, I exit the hut, straighten and stretch. It is good to stand upright, to view the canopy over my head. The warmth of the air tickles my face; for a moment I wallow in this, aware of the small rustlings coming from behind as the Ewoks follow me outside. I remain silent but for a moment longer, then turn to the one going by the name Eensha.

"I must take your leave now, and seek my Brother," I explain with a wave toward the sky. "This is something I am quite able to accomplish now, thanks to you and the care you have given to me."

With that I bow my head to her, hold it there for a short while in respect to her and her people. Then with no further ado I straighten once more, and with that wonderful ability I have come to accept as True Strength in All That Is, I open a Portal to my Temple on Khar Delba, step inside, and in my wake let it snip back into the spacetime from whence it was created. For indeed, there is no better place from which to seek my fellow Dark Lord than from the well-stocked haven of my own Sanctum Sanctorum.