--------------------

Beside her, Erik shrugged, but Shayla couldn't help but wonder if deep down he was thinking this might have been done to prevent them from returning. Shoving that thought aside then, Shayla closed her eyes, questing out with her Force-talents to access the situation for herself...

...and to determine if Graysith's familiar Force-entity could be found. After some length of seeking, Shayla found precisely what she was looking for.

I'm on my way back...again, she thought out across the Force-link she had with Graysith. Then, opening her eyes, she looked to Erik once more. "Can you find coordinates for Prinn'chatka?" she queried then. "It'll be the largest city on the planet, I believe...and right next to that blank spot that would be Ch'arlingua."

He nodded once, then turned to the navboard and went to work. In a matter of a couple of minutes, he looked over to Shayla once more. "Found it...

...I think."

Shayla frowned a bit. "Well, we should at least be able to tell once we get closer...

...I'm sure Graysith is still in the city. Fly into atmosphere and see if there's anywhere we can land."

"Might take some time," Erik observed then, "K'eel Doba is rather populated; there seem to be alot of cities."

"Well, if all else fails, we'll get to Prinn'chatka the traditional way," Shayla responded. "We'll walk."

[ 06-01-2003 08:51 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Shayla Stargazer Petrolu ]

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I took a large gulp of the dark liquid in the ornate goblet that I held in my hand. It burned my throat all the way down, leaving a tickling sensation. I had to clear my throat with a subtle "Ahem".

"I'm not sure that we have all been properly introduced. I am Dash Kelderon, Jedi Knight in training. This beautiful woman to my left is Alexis. And her brother Jebbua Dahutt my teacher." I pointed in his general direction. "For some reason or another I feel you already know Matt, Jasyn, and Galen. But the identity of this man." I pointed to Romanus. "Has me completely baffled. He is definatly not with us!"

"Now that the introductions are done, I was wondering if you could tell me a bit about your beautiful planet? And perhaps some insight into why everything I've been taught about the Sith seems to be a lie. You certainly don't seem like an evil race of beings. If anything you seem a proud and honorable people."

I once heard that Flattery will get you what you want. I hoped this was working!!!

I looked to my companions for a sign to stop or keep going. Jasyn downed his goblet of Sith Brandy. I wondered if he was even paying attention to me.

I had decided to continue with my flattery, when a young looking sith woman arrived with exotic smelling dinners. Everything smelled soo good. There were several types of "greens" and a nicely cut portion of... well, I wasn't sure what kind of meat that was. But I wasn't going to be the first one to try it. I decided to wait for a better time to continue speaking. Perhaps I'd continue after the meal was finished.

[ 06-02-2003 09:51 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Dash Kelderon ]

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...thoughts of her son, thoughts of her husband, thoughts of chosen sister...

...and thoughts of what might lay ahead. Also her mind revolved around recent events; and suddenly something became quite obvious to her even as they continued towards the Temple.

Aeylmaar. It was always Aeylmaar that she and Erik encountered. So then where was...?

Before she could finish that thought, Shayla's attentions were focused to the approaching Temple doors...

...and to the great Sith warriors who guarded them. Respectfully she bowed to them, a sense of de ja vu sweeping over her as Erik did the same.

"We wish to see Graysith," she said calmly, evenly.

Again the great horned Sith nodded, sending her a meaningful look before leading she and Erik inside to the Dining Hall where...

...much to her surprise...

...several people sat with Dark Lord Roan and Graysith. She scanned the table briefly, recongizing some and yet not recognizing others; with great aplomb Shayla merely cast meaningful looks in all their directions...

...even in the direction of Galen Danner despite the way their last meeting had progressed. At that thought, Shayla couldn't help but frown, if only momentarily.

Where was Loban?

Deciding not to press that one at the moment, the Chosen Sister finally approached Graysith, once again nodding to her in the utmost respect. Then she leaned in close, speaking softly to fill her in on what had happened on Khar Delba...

...and to give voice to her suddenly rising concerns.

"My premature son lies hanging to life in an incubator on Khar Delba, perhaps only as human bait to the elusive Master Tyberius...

...and perhaps not," she started, a pain running deep before Shayla let it fade. "As I understand it, I will not be allowed to return to see my son; the rift between humans and the Sith there appears to be great.

"Therefore it greatly troubles me that Lord Aelvedaar shows not his face; both times either I or my husband have encountered the Sorcerors it has always been Aeylmaar, never Aelvedaar...

...and it is always been with aloofness on Aeylmaar's part, as though he is hiding something or does not trust us with something. I just know Aelvedaar is plotting something...

...and for a Sith who always appears to manipulate humankind to attain his goals, I personally am very concerned as to what his next move may be..."

--------------------

"Thank you for the report," she said smoothly, her voice low, her tone unruffled, her eyes cutting to pin upon Lord Roan. "But you speak of things which have no place here among our... guests."

Now she slid her gaze from Roan's thunderous look, pausing once to give Erik a particularly lowering look of her own. Finally she placed both hands on the table's edge, pushed back her chair, rose to her feet. Whatever conversation that had been in progress between the others ground to a complete halt.

"You have accomplished that which I have sent you to do, to the extent of your abilities. Your obligation to me and to the Sith are with that now complete. You are free to go, and to find the life which awaits you without."

Nodding once to Shayla, she then turned from her and regained her seat. One pale hand took up her fork, stabbed at a choice bit of meat, carried it to her mouth. From the shadows behind her, Salandaar came forth to stand with quiet meaning behind Erik and Shayla, one hand lightly upon the hilt of his battle-sword, waiting.

Now the Chosen Daughter laid her fork down once again. After wiping her lips with delicate little stabs of her napkin, she raised her face to the others, capturing the attention of all with an even more delicate cough. When all murmurs had quieted, she spoke, her eyes once boring holes into Lord Roan's but her words clearly intended as reply to Dash.

"Strange I find this arrival of the lot of you, you who have pretense of innocence in being here. You claim connection with the sister of my blood, yet with that connection you claim ignorance of us as well. And you have the sheer effrontery to attempt flattery with such sickeningly sweet words."

Her chair made an awful, hollow clatter against the stones as she rose suddenly to her feet again, knocking it down as she did. One hand reached out and took up her wine goblet.

"You are not here to gain a lesson in Sith history, that much is certain!" she suddenly flared, now fire igniting in her eyes as she swept a regal look from one to the other around the table. "You are here for purposes of which you have yet to speak, and you skulk behind your honeyed speech like a dianoga in the swamps of Dagobah.

"This will cease!"

With that she threw her goblet, and stood in trembling anger as it dashed to pieces at her feet. The splintery crash echoed like a thousand laughing voices as she stood there, the Glyph now igniting into ultraviolet brilliance, the wine she had been drinking pooling like spilled blood at her feet.

But she wasn't yet finished.

A slow, cruel grin crept across her face, exposing something of the whites of her teeth. Though she was not born of the Sith, by some strange trick of the firelight they appeared as suddenly sharp as the fangs now peeping out from the equally curling lips of Dark Lord Roan. Her eyes darkened to oxblood in her face, and the hand once holding the goblet now loosened, the arm straightened, and in one inexorable motion she indicated the people ringing the table before her. But although her eyes never left them, the words she spoke were clearly intended for Shayla.

"As sister I chose on that day long past, I now give you one final caveat. You shall serve the Sith or not; in doing so you serve me.

"Kill them. Kill them all.

"All who are not Sith who are in this room other than you and I; all non-Sith!

"Now."

Now that pale and slender hand lowered to hide itself within her cloak beneath which lay the hidden form of the Tooth of S'slan. She fingered it lovingly, and waited.

[ 06-03-2003 01:36 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Graysith ]

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Romanus made an look-what-you-got-us-into glare at the blue guy, before standing straight up out of his chair holding his arms up.

"Whoa whoa! Let's not get too rash here!" He pointed a finger at Galen. "I came here in search of her. She stole something of mine and her mates here thought it best to give me a few bruises in return."

He stared back at the Sith woman at the end of the table...the one who's obviously in charge here. "Hey, it's a payback thing. You do stupid things when your mad...like landing on this planet for one." Romanus smiled...for about two seconds.

I'm so dead.

"Okay, okay. Before we pass judgment here let me make this clear: I am not Sith, but I am more and less than human." There was a serious, yet desperate, look in his eyes as Romanus continued. His arrogant stance was long gone. "I'm sure you sense it. I'm a hell of a lot different than any other being you've met before, and can be very useful to you..."

[ 06-03-2003 03:57 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Romanus ]

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So easily dismissed...

...and now this? What use was there for killing these people, she didn't even know some of them...

...why her? Why had they not already been destroyed if in fact that was what Graysith or Roan had intended all along? Instead, they sat eating with the Lord and Lady...

...as guests? Was Graysith somehow trying to make a point? This didn't seem at all like something she would request to be done.

Well, point or no, Shayla simply couldn't do it. Perhaps this would be her final destiny; she'd already lost her son, had already all but forgotten her brother, and had seemingly lost her place as Sister and Adept.

All she had left was...

Shayla's mind centered on that one thing she did have left per the moment.

Erik... all non-Sith...

...did that mean...?

No way.

Firming then, ready to meet whatever destiny awaited her, Shayla simply spoke one word, softly, utterly ignoring Romanus's ramblings to save his own skin.

"No."

[ 06-04-2003 06:44 AM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Shayla Stargazer Petrolu ]

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She pinned her with a dark gaze like an entomologist pins a particularly fascinating speciman. A tendril of her essence wormed into Shayla's mind, bringing with it a single word:

"Failed--"

Then she withdrew that tendril, snipping off the force link established between them with a decisive snik. She took a step back and finally spoke aloud.

"You will leave this place... all of you and never come back if you wish to live. All of you, that is, with a few... exceptions."

Smiling like the krayt dragon with the biggest pearl she motioned to Salandaar, who yet hovered behind Erik and Shayla. He nodded back, raised a hand in command, and was promptly obeyed as some strapping warriors broke off from the group hidden in the shadows of the Great Dining Hall. A couple went immediately to Romanus, surrounded him, prompting him to his feet with short meaningful jabs of their weapons. Then they turned and disappeared with him through a quietly lavish doorway in the back of the chamber. The others surrounded Galen, yanked her from her seat, and dragged her away as well.

The remainder of the Sith drew their swords in unison and took a step toward the remainder of the group. They stood in rigid expectation, waiting, the blades of their swords glittering in the subdued light with something other than the mere scintillation of tempered durasteel.

At the other end of the dining table, Dark Lord Roan sat smirking. Finally he raised a napkin to his lips, dabbed them delicately, and rose to his full towering height. He nodded to the others as if they were merely departing for caf in the study.

"If you will excuse me," he rumbled with a courtly bow, then departed in the direction the warriors had taken Galen.

Graysith only smiled more broadly as she watched him go. That smile remained on her face then as she turned back to those remaining behind. Either the events which had occurred had done so with such swiftness that none other had a chance to move or say anything...

...or each entity present knew that to move or speak would only usher death and were wisely remaining still as stone.

Another succinct nod from the Dark Lady of the Warriors, and the Sith had the group on its collective feet. Behind Shayla and Erik, Salandaar finally drew his own sword and with it requested they join the others. This was accomplished without fuss or remonstration; soon all who had come into the Khar Delban system were huddled together as dewbacks on Tatooine are herded by Imperial troopers.

"And to assure that you do not return... at least not in the very near future...."

Before anyone had the time to so much as blink, the lighting in the Dining Hall was shattered by the suddenly ravening Glyph, which at lightspeed escalated up the electromagnetic scale into gamma and beyond. Graysith closed her eyes and threw back her head, her hair floating about her head in the field generated by that sigil, looking like flaming seaweed in an ultraviolet sea. With all her energies she sent forth questing tendrils into the minds of those before her, easily penetrating their feeble mental defenses, probing, seeking... and at last finding. Using the incredible strengths of the All, she erected barriers within the minds of each of those present: Jasyn, Matt, Dash, Jebbua, Alexis, Erik and Shayla, and blocked from their conscious thought any and all memories having to do with the Sith.

Every lick of them.

The strain of being invaded in this manner was too great. One by one they dropped, unconscious, the final flickerings of exotic cities and strange technologies and tall and stately horned beings dimming from them to fade into the dark. One by one they were picked up by a Sith warrior, who bowed to the unseeing Daughter of the Sith, turned, and quickly carried off to where Supernova sat waiting for the return of her owners. One by one they were trucked aboard, dumped into seats; as Shayla and Erik arrived, the former being carried by Salandaar, that Sith watched as his warriors departed. With quick and sure fingers he dialed a departure vector to Sullust, set it to initiate in ten minutes and then to scramble the origin of the ship's point of departure. Then he quickly left the ship to return to the Temple.

Behind him, precisely ten minutes later, there came a rush and a roar as Supernova lifted from K'eel Doban soil, seeking the purity of space, and then the even cleaner lines of hyperspace beyond. Within her comforting confines, the little group snored on.

Left behind, alone in the Grand Dining Hall, Graysith uttered a little grunt as the Glyph gradually quieted down. Her shoulders sagged from the effort she had just put forth, her eyes feeling as heavy as stones. For a moment she stood gathering her strength, one hand reaching out to a chairback for support. Then she drew herself up into her former regal demeanor and glided to the small door in the back of the room.

The lounge she entered was lit by wall sconces, heavy with rich carvings and lush fabrics. Romanus was seated at a small table, a goblet of glittering green liquid before him, a somewhat surprised aura radiating from him although to his credit he showed nothing of this.

Another smile flicked about Graysith's lips as she approached where he sat. Joined him. Raised a hand to a suddenly appearing young Sith lass, and ordered a goblet of her own. Turned her violet gaze directly into his dark eyes.

"You seek power, I sense it within you," she began a bit offhandedly. For a moment she held him with her gaze, then turned it upon the goblet she held in one hand. She turned that goblet about, watching the light reflecting off of its contents for a moment before quietly setting it down.

One hand made a waving motion, as if to indicate not merely the richness of the Sith lounge but all that existed beyond its walls. Her casual look became suddenly filled with nuance and unspoken meaning; laying her hands gently upon the table she leaned forward. Her breath came out sweet and warm with the words she now spoke, and as soft.

"And now you will be so kind as to tell me how you may be of use to me," she purred, and fell silent.

[ 06-04-2003 02:57 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Graysith ]

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"Outgoing from the Khar Delban system, one ship, course vector seems to be... Sullust; Engineering! Get a tractor beam on that ship... ARRGH!!!"

The lieutenant went so far as to fist his hands and smash them down upon his computer boards, as heedless to the pain produced by that action as those boards were to his ability to damage them, as the ship referred to popped into hyperspace with a small burst of laughter.

The conning tower of Relentless grew ominously quiet then. The lieutenant stiffened at his station, gained control of himself, then keyed a frequency to Engineering.

"I presume what was just viewed was not a cached glitch?" he queried, stiffening further at the returning, "Negative, Sir."

He sighed, waiting for the footfalls he knew were forthcoming. His track record certainly hadn't been impeccable as of late, and with the loss of this latest ship....

The door to the conning tower whooshed open, right on target. Booted feet crossed the glistening deck, came up behind him. The aura of something ominous clouded over him.

"Lieutenant...."

[ 06-04-2003 11:41 AM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by The Empire ]

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--------------------

After a few moments, he opened his eyes and looked at his host. "Alright, I'm ready. Now where do I start off at...oh yeah."

Romanus coughed to clear his throat, then straightened up in his seat. "Okay, as I said before I'm not exactly human. I'm a clone, you see? Developed by the Empire."

"After Palpatine bit the dust, the Imperials went nuts hunting for the remnants of his cloning facilities. The Jedi were coming back, and they sure as hell wanted to be ready for 'em. Around this time, a bunch of...uh...I guess Dark Jedi were sniffing 'round for something called 'The Valley of the Jedi.'"

"Now, an Imperial ship discovered a planet where Palpatine shipped some of his facilities to. The Empire dropped some buildings and a group of scientists there and took off."

"That's where I," he pointed at himself,"was made. Along with 18 of my bros. Most of which I killed during the test runs. And...oh...oh wait, I forgot to mention! We were clones of Anakin Skywalker, genetically modified and conditioned so we were superior to the Jedi."

"Anyways, after the testing I was considered to be the alpha copy for the next wave of clone Dark Jedi. Unfortunately, some idiot named Desaan persuaded the Empire to drop the project, and move on to makin' Reborn soldiers with the Valley thing."

"The project was canceled, but the docs refused. They sent me away just after the Empire landed troops down there to teach 'em a lesson. And now here I am..."

Romanus leaned forward slightly and smiled. "...hopefully to be in your service. I'm sure you could use a guy like me as a personal guard, or hell maybe even a general! I mean, I'm the replication of the greatest Jedi in history! How could you decline such a thing?"

--------------------

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Still unspeaking, she considered all Romanus was saying, engulfing him with a look that on one hand was sweet as nectar, on the other could devour worlds. Then her lips crooked in a little smile, and her hands dropped to lay on the table, one sliding across so that the very finger that had been tapping against her teeth now brushed lightly across the knuckle of one of Romanus's hands as it lay casually on the table, holding his goblet by its stem. And with that bare contact allowed a small tendril of her talents to flow into him, to bring a modicum of soothing warmth into his strained and affronted muscles.

"Tell me of these Reborn," she whispered softly, that none other would hear but the dark entity sitting across from her.

[ 06-08-2003 07:02 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Graysith ]

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You came off too ambitious, you moron.

Romanus sat back before he responded, moving his hand away...along with the goblet. "Ah...the Reborn? Basically it's just some poor trooper they throw in this machine that turns 'em into a Jedi. Gives them the ability to use the Force and wield the lightsaber. Fortunately, they're not real Jedi like me! But there's so damn many of them...the Empire can field whole armies in months." He took a sip from the cup as he waited for a reply.

--------------------

Other than that, she didn't move a millimeter.

Jedi. Reborn. A-- machine???

The more her thoughts whirled in her head, the more statue-like she herself became until at length it seemed she was not a living being but something crafted by a master artisan. Yet more time ticked past, in which the buxom Sith lass arrived with another set of goblets; the whispering sounds of her setting them down before the two and removing the others was as soft as the sussuration of a Belkin's wings, yet echoed alarmingly in the sudden silence of the lounge.

Graysith blinked, letting the tiniest of smiles curl upon her lips. Once again she leaned forward toward Romanus, but this time did not reach out to touch him further.

"And how would you, a mere one, be of assistance against entire armies of these Reborn?" she asked at length, ending with an almost offhanded comment: "Either they are not the threat some might perceive them to be, or you are indeed a powerful man."

She silenced with that, a sweet smile on her lips, her eyes as suddenly black and deadly as a shark's.

--------------------

Romanus's temper showed briefly on his face; his neck turned red as he tried to control himself from making an outburst. He completely missed that last bit about him being 'a powerful man', but his anger started to die down anyways. He knew his 'host' could sense it and, in a way, Romanus feared what she might do about it.

"Understand this, whoever you are." he said sharply, directing his emotions to his speech, but also hiding the fear in his voice. "Reborn are not Jedi. They never were, and never will be. They're an abomination to their species, and to those who use the Force. The very sight of them sickens me, and its worse when I see the people who fear them."

Romanus abruptly stood up from his seat, leaned forward, and pressed his knuckles on the table. "I've killed dozens of them, on remote planets all over the Outer Rim. They're no match for what I'm capable of. If it was up to me, I'd purge this galaxy of every single one."

He stood there for a few moments, before again sitting down. Romanus leaned back slightly before he continued. "Ah, and on top of that, I'm also on good terms with an Imperial General." He followed that with a half-smile.

--------------------

Graysith let her full lips curl in a bit of a smile; with yet another broadening of that grin she placed her goblet carefully upon the table and looked up at Romanus. Noted to herself his own actions, the fluid movements of his body: his strong hands knuckling upon the table, his leaning forward, then seating himself as though not having a care in the world about the fact that he was currently sitting in a lounge of a temple full of beings thought to be extinct from the galaxy for four millennia.

She got quickly and gracefully to her feet, and came round the table to stand behind the trenchcoated clone. Her slim hands found purchase upon each of his shoulders; without further ado she began kneading them, letting her fingers work into the tense and thick muscles there, finding and eradicating knots. She didn't say anything, just let her hands work into his flesh, until at length his shoulders became loose and supple beneath her touch.

It was then that she leaned down to whisper into his ear. Her breath came as soft as a spring breeze.

"From your words I can only believe that you are indeed a fierce fighter, my friend," she murmured, her hands not leaving his shoulders but keeping firm hold upon them. "One who has what some have come to call the Dark Force at his beck and call. I can sense this in you, not only the clear ability but the yearning to use it, to destroy without second thought, to kill without qualm.

"But...."

She paused for a moment, drawing in a breath, the intake ruffling against the smooth flesh on the top of his skull. Then she leaned in even closer so that her lips were scant millimeters from his ear, and continued in a whisper scarcely louder than the sound of falling thistledown.

"Can you love in equal measure? Have it within you to find compassion, and pity, and willingness to act for the good of a cause, for those who would gain by it in turn?"

She fell silent then and waited, letting her hands close in even tighter against the strength of his shoulders in their grasp.

--------------------

Graysith and Romanus saw the bodies of the guards that had been at her door lying dead in the entryway. This guard, whoever he was, was unnaturally strong. They both scanned his face, and noticed one important thing: the man's eyes were blank expressionless. He did not have the fiery glow of Sith eyes. He looked like a toy or a doll almost. He just stood there, staring at both of them. Suddenly, he spoke in a flat, monotone voice

"Must capture Graysith. Must capture Graysith."

The man sounded like a zombie, a talking doll. He chanted this as though it were the only thing that mattered in the world. Odd indeed, for a Sith. Without warning, though, the guard drew his Sith sword and lunged, directly at Graysith, still chanting wildly

"Must capture Graysith!"

((OOC: After this, I won't have contact with a computer for a week, so keep going and keep the topic alive. Cya, all.))

[ 06-14-2003 09:52 AM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Graysith ]

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In many regards, circumstances warranting it, a mere second can encompass an eternity. And in others, create one in its entirety. This was of the former variety.

One second... in which the other patrons of the lounge began to react. The dim lighting cast even dimmer shadows, revealing the beginnings of movement as here and there the Sith began to respond each to his or her own way: heads began to turn, mouths to open, bodies to begin taking themselves upright.

One second... in which the warrior who was coming at Graysith and Romanus -- one of her most loyal -- covered another ten feet, blade lifted high with gleaming, deadly intent.

One second... in which Graysith felt Romanus begin to stiffen beneath her touch, whether in surprise or readiness to attack he hadn't yet the time to reveal to her.

One second... time enough to make a decision. And she did.

She stayed her hand, and waited.

[ 06-14-2003 02:30 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Graysith ]

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The question of whether or not she actually wanted Romanus to interfere on her behalf was lost as he summoned one of the swords of the guards at the entryway to him. The blade flew past the assailant and into Romanus's hands, who was already on his feet and charging at his opponent. He deflected the man's sword, stopping his charge at Graysith and forcing him into a fight.

Romanus stared at the guard's face; this guy's cheese fell off his cracker a looong time ago! There was NOTHING there, a blank expression.

The Sith guard launched a series of fast, reckless attacks on him. Each blow was incredibly hard, and Romanus always found himself on the brink of letting go. But each swing also left him open, and as the guard slashed straight downward, Romanus spun to the side, dropped to the ground, and performed a leg sweep.

The guard hit the ground hard as Romanus brought his sword forward...

Man, I hope all her guards aren't like this...

--------------------

A slight smile of satisfaction curled upon her lips as she raised one slim finger, almost as an afterthought...

...and summoning that wonderful power given to her by Aelvedaar so many long months ago, reached out unto the very molecules of the air. Their vibrations began to slow, and they began to crystallize even as the Glyph on her forehead flared into life to light them in a surreal ultraviolet glow. The smile faded somewhat with her effort then, as she swayed in the aftermath of forming a wall of solid air between Romanus and the fallen warrior. She blinked then, jerking herself from that secret place she travelled to when using her powers, and focused on the pair in front of her.

Romanus stood over the Sith warrior, blade halted in its downward slice. Beneath him, separated by that invisible yet very much tangible wall, lay the Sith warrior, his eyes huge and empty hollows in his head. Graysith had not merely erected a barrier between the two combatants, but had allowed it to thicken, actually pinning the Sith to the polished stone floor of the lounge. He lay there, still struggling, trying to wield his blade against his attacker, the blank look upon his face the sole indication of how aware he really was of his surroundings.

Graysith waited... and waited a bit longer. To all outward appearances she seemed to be contemplating the scenario; in actuality she was regaining her strength. A frown now marred her features as, allowing a tendril of her essence to penetrate into the warrior's being, she sensed the absolute blankness within.

Her eyes flicked up to Romanus, and she nodded slightly in approval of his actions.

"A pity," she said then and allowed the barrier to drop. Rejuvenated, the Sith warrior slashed upward with his blade, his actions not so much in the attempt of attacking that dark being who straddled him as much as to go through him to get to the Chosen Daughter. His eyes as empty as a shark's, he snarled, sliced upward, slashing, kicking out with his long legs....

Graysith absolutely ignored him, and only nodded once more to Romanus.

--------------------

I blinked, suddenly aware of a chill that seeped into my skin, that crept into my very essence like the cool onset of Death... a chill which brought with it a vague memory of sitting at a table, then being unceremoniously dragged off to....

To where?

To this place... where turquoise eyes came bearing down, the fires of Hell's laughter gleaming in their depths.

A shudder yanked me upright, and I blinked again. The ghostly afterimage of those eyes disappeared into the shadows, leaving the lingering sensation of laughter that was almost palpable. I shivered, leaping to my feet before I really understood where I was, or how I had gotten there, or why. All I could think to do was to inspect myself, frantic, seeking to find the deep wounds I knew I would surely find, for wasn't that what happened to me the last time I had been in this place?

There were none. At least nothing visible.

I blinked again, wrapping my arms about myself, and finally looked around. Immediately wished I hadn't. For as peripheral vision and the haunting echo of near consciousness had already informed me, I was in a dank, dark cell so very similar to the one I had been dragged into so very long ago by those nasty Noghri, whose slashing claws and clutching hands had performed superbly to make me forget anything but utter, complete, and total agony.

Not this time. I appeared hale and whole... and quite imprisoned.

I cut my eyes to the foul-looking door. It was covered with something that almost seemed to writhe upon it, it's wood worm-ridden and blackened by age. It was quite solid, bolstered by huge bolts and heavy hinges and large, round nailheads; it's aloof solidity broken only by a small slit about four feet from the floor. An upwelling sense of disbelief drew me to that slit, half expecting to see the baleful eyes of Noghri guards peering in at me through it. But no.

I was quite alone.

I was very much, too terribly much alone....

I reached out to the door with both hands, and laid my palms against the moss-befuzzed wood. Then a burst of despair struck me, and I slid down to my knees.

If I was in here... what in Hell's Seven Circles had happened to everybody else???

[ 06-16-2003 10:20 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Galen ]

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JhinDarra shivered, placing her arms about herself, and struggled mightily to keep from simply bursting into tears. There was no warning, no clear understanding; for some inexplicable reason, however, she was suddenly filled with a sense of despair so deep, so overwhelming that she leapt up like a startled gazelle and fled her room, letting her feet take her blindly through the passages and corridors of flame-lit stone as though the very hounds of Hell were snapping at her heels. Now tears did come, filling her eyes, blurring the view before her; she gulped a little and closed them, letting something other reach out and see for her, allowing it to take her to the One she was certain could lend her comfort.

Her footfalls scarcely sounded in the hollow halls as she moved rapidly along, red hair tumbling along in her wake. And at length she arrived where that unfelt sense led her: the Grand Dining Hall. With no thought but to seek her mother, she hurried inside, homing in on the link with the Chosen Daughter; passing patrons enjoying a late dinner, she continued on through to the door at the back.

There upon its threshold she came to a screeching halt, the tears drying in her eyes for the flames of outrage now erupting therein. For before her was a totally unexpected tableau: the sight of Graysith, coolly aloof, with one of her own warriors on the offense, his blade gleaming sharp and deadly in the sconce-spotted dark.

Between the two, a dark-coated stranger. His bald pate gleamed like a death's skull, and he too wielded a sword of the Sith.

Something began rushing upward then, overtaking her earlier sense of despair, filling her with heat and outrage and a different type of fear, one so deeply seated she was not clearly aware of it. She paused, then began to lunge forward, to do exactly what she hadn't a clue...

...but was once again stopped as her mother's eyes cut to her. The look in them was like a solid wall of durasteel, halting her just as assuredly as if she had slammed into it. Tottering a bit then, combating the fiery anger and the cold despair which now returned with a vengeance, she stood there, her eyes wide, chewing on her lip, knowing she could do something yet not knowing what.

And wondering, indeed, why she had the persistent urge to even want to try.

[ 06-18-2003 10:15 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Graysith ]

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[ 06-19-2003 09:30 AM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Graysith ]

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