He was a freak, a big dumb red thing with horns on his head like some vile demon. Maybe he belonged here, in this horrible dark hell, belonged here with all the other freaks and demons. What could the real world offer him now? What could he offer it? Who could love a disgusting red ogre, anyway? Oh, damn that Thoran! Just to wrap his hands around that scrawny little neck and squeeze until he--

He stumbled on a rock and caught his foot between two larger stones. His hand went instinctively to brace himself, slamming down hard on a nearby stone. The action prevented his ankle from twisting, but sent massive shocks of pain up from his hand. He winced, then allowed the rush of knowledge that he had done something incredibly stupid wash over him. He slowly picked his hand up from the rock and watched the fresh flow of violet blood spill from the bandages.

He used his good hand to rip off another piece of his tattered robe, wrapped it tightly around the bandages, and tied it with his teeth. He carefully removed his foot from its position and followed the others.

“How—“ he started, stopping with a rush of pain. He caught his breath and looked to Jasyn, who had caught up. “How far is it, do you know? And what exactly is it that we're looking for?”

[ 10-19-2005 09:41 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Panthar Dantares ]

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Panthar stumbled again.

“Oh, these damn big red feet!” he cursed quietly. He looked to Jasyn. “I just can’t get used to them, I want my old feet back.”

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Although from the looks of him, he didn't seem as though he could draw another breath, let alone upon his magicks.

The Dark Lord turned to the Master.

"And what of the boy?" he growled, snarling a little beneath his breath.

"I have done as you requested: he has been given the Tattoo of Entitlement, and with your magicks worked upon me believes himself to be son of Lord Aelvedaar, and thus Lord Apparent to the Sorcerers. While not Sith, being raised as a cult assassin has endowed him with certain... abilities, and although he is not as powerful in these as a sorcerer he does show certain promise.

"There is such a lovely dark streak in him; I'm certain we can utilize him in the plan as well... as in wedding him to my daughter.

"That union would certainly provide more fuel to the fire we wish to spread, ey?"

Roan turned a syrupy smile upon the Master, his fangs gleaming in the dim light, his turquoise eyes shining as those of a feral beast.

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“Yes,” he replied. “What interesting offspring they would spawn… But you realize, my friend, he would not survive the wedding night, if even the courtship.”

A small chuckle escaped from the Master, his eyes dancing.

“But there is something greater still in this lad’s future. Once we have our heir, this one”, he said, indicating Phalomir, “is of no use, as shall be He Who Walks Among Us in my son’s body. We shall need a puppet to remove both from our path. The boy shall win a trial by combat, take the titles of all three houses and adopt our heir. He shall marry your daughter and raise the heir under our guidance. And when the child is old enough, he shall take the titles himself.”

The Master looked down at Phalomir once again.

"There is one flaw in your plan, my friend," he finally growled. "And that is the union you propose in order to obtain the heir. She is not stupid: she is well aware of what... ministrations have already been performed upon her past get, she knows that we hold this one--"

Another vicious kick to Phalomir sent the Dark Lord groaning.

"--and could not possibly believe that we would not be having plans for any future get she might bear. Believe me, I know her."

He paused a moment, then cast a thoughtful look toward the Master.

"Why this round-about ballyhoo? We have one who in time will become more powerful than her, and that is my lovely ShaRhylla. That one has the All inherent to her, which is more than I can say for her mother, as skilled in its use as she might be.

"Use her to create the heir, then destroy this pitiful... thing and wed her to the lad. With his insanity and her bloodlust the child would grow into such a magnificent ruler.

"Which reminds me..."

He trailed, now turning away from the diabolic scene, striding to the perimeter of the surrounding gloom.

"We have held my dear brother long enough. He is of no further use to us; his job--"

He now cocked his head, slitting his eyes as he reached out with his All abilities along a link established so very, very long ago. It whickered through the deathly realms of the dark beings, into the mind of the Chosen One, slyly entering therein where it probed about until a vision rose up before the Dark Lord:

That of what She was seeing. Which at the moment was a particular bend in a particular Valley, one against whose stone walls there glowed the reflection of the only speck of light in this entire reality.

"--has been completed. They are here, and are at this moment entering into the Valley of the Dark Lords."

He turned a death's-head grin upon the Master, raking him up and down before he raised his hand and ripped into the very spacetime fabric of which the Darker Realms was made. That smile planted upon his dark visage, he stepped through--

--but it was not there when he returned seconds later. It was replaced instead by sneer of white-lipped anger.

"He is gone!" he said in a low voice as he raised a clawed fist to the Master.

[ 10-31-2005 12:24 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Dark Lord Roan ]

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Of course he is gone, you unspeakable oaf. he thought. You are so close, yet so far from the true concept. Graysith would indeed detect treachery if rescuing my son were easy. No, you pitiful fool, it shall be difficult, yet it shall be done, and I shall honor the memory of your soul after it is destroyed in the process. Then when the heir is born it shall be your daughter who not only raises him, but bears his son as well.

He sneered, comforted by the fact that he was already dead...

...as Aelomir was most assuredly not.

He glared at the Master.

"No," he said.

"I will not stand by and watch everything you so dearly strive for find fruition in the union of Sith blood to that human.

"It has already been done-- more than once.

"But not again!"

With that he whirled, ripping open a Portal and with no further words stormed away from his supposed ally. Dark plans of his own whirled in his head.

I shall be victorious, he thought as he popped into view upon the lip of the Valley. Staring down from the darkness, he beheld the little group who struggled toward the Flame.

Only those with the dark within them can utilize this to the fullest, he smiled; then reaching out from the lip he held out his hand, palm up, his claws raking the dark air of the realm.

"No," he whispered then as he twisted his hand just so, grasping hold of the icy flame even though he was far removed from its presence, causing it to gutter and jerk for a brief moment before flaring up, reaching out, encircling the Chosen One and her Adept, plucking them like rich fruits that were ripe for the taking, yanking them from beneath the noses of the others...

...to send them far and away, farther than anywhere in the known galaxy, beyond it in fact...

...to a dark and dismal ship of yorik coral which howled through the vast impossibility of hyperdriven space.

Not this time, my sweets, he smiled to himself as he turned his thoughts to his brother, Aelvedaar. His hand raised yet again, but paused. The snide words of the Master roiled in his brain.

He is right, this one is old and wasted, he thought to himself.

He can most certainly be used in another manner, oh yes.

The smile darkening upon his features, he turned and departed, going back to his demon horde and the even more demonic disciplines he was teaching them, assured with the knowledge that the others were nothing but motes, less than motes, the merest of dust-specks easily dismissed at his merest whim.

Now to set my own plans into action...

((OOC: Follow Graysith and Shayla into Standing on the Edge of Forever in the "CSWU" forums, thank you.))

[ 10-31-2005 02:12 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Dark Lord Roan ]

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That accomplished, I now find the time to pause a moment longer, sending a molten look into the horrified eyes of the others.

"We are safe, for the moment," I then state flatly before falling silent, thus granting the others the time to complete their assimilation of what had just happened to us all. Bit by bit then, the expressions of those surrounding me altered, running the gamut from surprise to horror to finally end at the most debilitating emotion of all: fear.

I raise a hand to those looks, striving now to bring comfort where there has been loss of hope.

"Fear not, for wherever they have been sent is but a thought away from us. Recall now, if you will, just where it is that we are."

I pause again, cocking my head a bit to one side to send a look into the amber eyes of my Son. A wan smile manages to worm its way onto his face; I smile in turn.

"The Darker Realms are but side-slipped from our own reality, if you recall. By this act we have, rather than being debilitated, learned something most valuable about our enemy. Something that I believe we should consider before I drop this shield to allow our two loved ones access back to us.

"Unless, of course, for the sake of safety you prefer this action is completed back in the universe which we call our home..."

[ 10-31-2005 02:44 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Aelvedaar ]

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He fell silent a few moments then, his brown eyes clouded with worry and not just a bit of fear. "And what have we lerned exactly, other than it is very likely the Master, Roan, or both have Graysith and my wife...?"

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Swiftly I drop the shield, wait a heartbeat, raise it. I give him a piercing look.

"Did you sense your wife in that moment?" I query, staring meaningfully into his eyes.

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This is not the way it was meant to end, he thought. The memories are there, I have seen them. Pulled from the brink of death before, sent here for… what? To die at the feet of the madman who was once my father? This cannot be…

Phalomir’s thoughts trailed as the strangely familiar sound of the fabric of space ripping trickled to his throbbing ears. An eerie helplessness wound its way from the pit of his stomach and pressed into his mind. The grip on his midsection loosened slightly as Phalomir’s breathing slowed.

The darkness behind his eyelids was broken by slow swirls of white spots, flying in circles until they focused into a single bright dot. The dot widened, spires of white pointing outwards. He felt a warmth from the white, a calming, and felt compelled to move towards it.

And so he did.

As he approached the light, he saw a figure standing in the shadows cast by its brilliance. Long white robes flew in a breeze, masking the face, but the long red strands of hair waving in the wind told him. He relaxed, calm with the knowledge that his last thoughts would be of Jharmeen. He smiled as he passed the figure in white, now seeing her face. She smiled back, sadly, blew a kiss, and pursed her lips to speak.

“You stupid love-struck dumb-head fool!” came the voice. Phalomir stopped his journey, reeling as the figure of Jharmeen transformed itself into the body of a Sith – a familiar, yet forgotten Sith.

“You didn’t think I’d leave you with all the fun, did you?” grinned Thoran. “Now pull yourself together—literally—and let’s figure out what the heck to do!”

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The epitaph burst out with a viciousness which surprised even me. But not unwarranted, no, not by a long shot.

I had had it. I mean, I had really had it. This was the straw that broke the ronto's back, and to tell the truth I was just getting sick and tired of it all.

Every time. Every blessed, single, last time... No matter what, or where, hope had always been just within reach, just at my fingertips when...

WHAMMY.

In steps the archangel of Murphy to send me backsliding a couple light-years or so once again.

Well... not this time!

"Hell!" I reiterated, turning to the others.

No time to go into petty details; those tiny geeses were marching up and down my spine with a cadence that suggested we not sit around twiddling our collective thumbs.

"C'mon!"

I motioned to the others, who were still standing about in varying stances of surprise.

Now was not the time to discuss this as a committee. In fact, now was not the time to even approach said committee with ideas.

Now was the time to act.

"C'mon!" I repeated with even greater urgency.

"We can do this; she said it responds to the dark in us... well, boy howdy but I think I might have a tiny speck of brightness somewhere down deep, if I search for it hard enough..."

I paused, breathless, gripping Terrin's hand, realizing I probably sounded like all kinds of fool but knowing there was simply not the time to go into details.

As I said, now was the time to act.

I gave Terrin's hand a tug, and took an urgent step toward that flickering, devilish flame.

[ 11-01-2005 10:26 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Galen ]

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...and motioning them along with his free hand. "She's right. The tactics in this scream a diversion. So...

...let's not allow it to divert us."

And with nothing further, Terrin fell in stride with Galen, heading towards the Flame.

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It is such spirit which is our greatest ally, when all is said and done.

"You are both correct."

I take a quick step forward as I speak.

"It is obvious to me that Roan has done this foul deed merely as a diversionary tactic, for with her knowledge of the All my Chosen Daughter can easily find her way back to us. By this action, he shows the degree of his desperation...

...and while a desperate foe is a dangerous foe, oftentimes it is an unthinking one as well."

I pause a moment, waving toward Aeylmaar. He quickly comes to stand at my side.

"Go unto the Light, and seek that which we must know. My Son and I shall act as mainstays, that you not totally lose yourselves to the darkness you must now invoke."

[ 11-01-2005 10:34 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Aelvedaar ]

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So saying, she completed the portal...

Grasping Shayla's hand in hers she stepped bravely forth, coming to a halt in the shadows which gibbered in the perimeter of the chamber, in the middle of which lay the Dark Lord Phalomir.

"Phalomir!" she shrieked in a silent whisper, a hand going to her mouth to mask even that tiny noise. Forcing herself to remain where she was, she then reached out with her abilities, trying to determine the exact degree of foulness which had been perpetrated upon his body.

The damage was horrendous. She knew she would be able to heal him, but it would take time.

She needed time....

Master and all the demons from Hell be damned.

"Shayla, come!"

Even as the Master was turning toward her, an evil grin of even more evil welcome spreading across his features, she launched herself across the intervening space, Shayla in tow. With the other hand she called upon a simple tool used by the Jedi, a mere part of the Living Force, in turn a tinier part of the magnificent All, but effective nevertheless.

She grunted as with a simple Force push she shoved the Master approximately twelve feet from where Phalomir lay.

Even as he flew backward, she and Shayla had gained Phalomir's side. Now she let the Glyph on her forehead blast into full force, driving the gibbering shadows away as ultraviolet radiance filled the chamber.

In the middle of it was a black blotch, one which grew until it devoured every lick of light. It sat in the middle of the chamber, taunting any who would then approach, daring any to bring it harm, knowing none could.

None but the One who had raised it to begin with.

"Phalomir..."

Letting out a sigh of relief that he at least still lived, protected by the chronotic shield she had raised about the three of them, Graysith knelt at Phalomir's side and laid a cool hand upon his face. Her other hand moved coolly down to lay directly upon the wound, trying to bank the fires which raged there that with her talents she could begin the lengthy process of knitting flesh together once again.

"Shayla, your aid," she murmured, then fell silent, putting all of her energies and concentration into healing her love.

[ 11-01-2005 11:20 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Graysith ]

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Roan had certainly set his own selfish plans in motion by this time, breaking their thin alliance and succumbing to the natural tendencies that ruled him, even in death.

And most importantly, the spirit of the Tower now rested inside of Phalomir, inserting itself right at the moment of his spirit’s death.

Everything was proceeding as planned.

The Master was almost giddy as he turned to the chronotic shield. He prepared a spell to send a burst of energy into the center of the room when the shield was dropped, nothing fatal, but enough to make the woman believe she was under attack. There was no reason to harm anyone further this day, the seed was planted.

As the Master waved his hands, he caught the whisper of a shadow moving across the wall. He paused and looked in that direction, but saw nothing. He slowly turned his gaze back to the shield, then out of his peripheral vision caught movement once again.

“No,” he said quietly. “This cannot be. He spirit was dying, I felt it…”

The Master stopped his spell casting and turned to the wall. A darkness was spreading across it, growing like a mold. The Master stepped backwards, away from the wall, but the darkness gathered itself and spread to the ceiling. The Master snapped his hand forward to rip open a portal, but the darkness dropped with lightning speed and enveloped him. He staggered, completely covered in black, the darkness melting onto him. For a moment his head showed through the dark substance, a mix of terror and anger on his face, but it was enveloped once again. He struggled, falling to the floor and thrashing. His body shivered and arched, then fall flat.

“We shall speak soon, my friend. You still have a long road ahead, and when you are well I shall come to you.”

Phalomir felt severe pain flow back into his mind. He was suddenly keenly aware of every cut, bruise, puncture, and broken bone. His body convulsed and he fought to regain control of his muscles. Through it all, although he shivered in the cold air, he felt a warmth next to him and swore he felt hands pressing on his own. Then the sweetest sound he had ever heard came to his ears, drifting through the clots of blood and sweat and filling him with something he had so recently abandoned, hope.

Phalomir…

It was the voice of Jharmeen. He struggled to open his eyes, and managed to bring one lid up enough to make out the shape of someone beside him. Two someones.

“Jharmeen,” was the word that tried to form in his dry throat, but a quiet whisper was what left his lips. He smiled regardless, and let his eye close. The pain was still intense, but suddenly the thought of living another day brought him joy.

[ 11-02-2005 09:29 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Phalomir ]

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...yet sensing his life-force as well. Kneeling then, Shayla reached out and laid a hand on one of his arms, stretching out then to the healing energies of the Force, a gift she knew now would be very needed. Channeling that healing energy, Shayla reached for Phalomir's life force, and began sending the energy directly to him.

Closing her eyes once establishing a firm link, Shayla continued healing the Dark Lord, her mind focused upon that task alone.

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Panthar walked towards the bend, the flickering glow of the flame pounding shadows against the stones. In the shadows he saw the shapes of giant Sith, set in the stone. He swallowed hard, hoping someone was following him. He rounded the corner, eyes closed, then opened them slowly. Before him was a strange flame, burning from an ornate urn. Around it stood the stone images of more Sith, standing regally in their eternal vigil.

It seemed harmless enough, just a fire. Panthar shrugged and stared into it, and as he did it seemed to shrink. He frowned, then stepped closer. In an instant the flames suddenly stretched out to him, sending tendrils of light flickering to him. His vision seemed to tunnel, a kaleidoscope of yellow and orange swirling its way into his mind.

He blinked, then again, clearing his vision. His head still swam, and he tried to grasp the thoughts that spun there. He was here to ask something, to gain knowledge. What was it? What was the thing that weighed most heavily upon his mind?

Yes, that was it. The true feelings held in his heart now leaped forward into his mind. Dark thoughts of loss and longing, of wanting, now permeated him. Yes, this was truly what he wanted, it was suddenly so clear to him. Now, this knowledge firmly in place, he set his thoughts to forming the correct question.

“Where is Shayla?” he said through his teeth.

A sound of feet shifting the ground behind him made Panthar instinctively reach into his pocket for the laser knife he held there. He lowered his brows and found himself hoping the sound was Erik.

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There it was, writhing and winding, coiling about itself, breaking into myriad tendrils which combined with the liquid sinuosity of a den of snakes.

Something in it seemed to beckon to me, reaching out to me, reminding me...

Yeah. I remember.

The Sith.

This is a Sith place... and they're the ones who took Darra and... made her what she's not supposed to be.

It's thanks to them that Terrin had to suffer the atrocities he had: the loss of an arm, the pain of death itself.

Daddy is dead because of them.

Why in Hell's Seven Circles am I here?

I cast a suddenly dark look upon Terrin, tugging at him, my mouth opening to state something to that effect when from behind me came a testosterone-laden voice.

Shayla? What's the deal with that?

It was enough to make me whirl on the spot. Dropping Terrin's hand I took a step toward Panthar, then another. My eyes flicked to the little knife he carried, then back up into his eyes.

"Fine time to get all hot and bothered, buddy," I snarled out of the blue, for equally out of the blue was the conviction that we certainly did not need him in our party any longer, not if this was all he really had on his mind all the time anyway...

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Here they were, using Sith magicks, surrounded by Sith...

...the Sith who had taken Galen and used her. Who had taken Darra and used her as well. Well, perhaps not all the Sith. But Roan sure as hell had. And yeah, Galen's sister had done more than her fair share too. How he would love to call some of the scores even just now...

Only Panthar's words broke these thoughts, along with Galen's reaction to him. Turning himself, Terrin's brow shot up in surprise, then lowered. "I thought you were here to help your friend Phalomir, buddy. That sure as hell won't do it," he finished, nodding towards the knife in Panthar's hand.

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...when Panthar took over and did it for him. Erik froze in his tracks, his eyes widening in sudden surprise at the implications flying around.

"What in all the Fates..?!?" he queried, still standing frozen, still partially in disbelef.

[ 11-02-2005 10:28 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Erik Kartan ]

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“What the heck are you talking about?” Panthar asked, truly confused. “I’m trying to figure out what we’re supposed to do here.”

He noticed the knife in his hand and stared at it, then looked up sharply at Galen with a worried face.

“What the—?” he asked. He shook his head and backed up several steps.

“No,” he muttered. “This is not right, not right at all. I don’t know what’s going on, but I—“ He stumbled against the stone body of a giant Sith and tumbled to his rear. He sat on the ground shaking his head and dropped the knife to the dirt beside him.

“Let’s do whatever the hell you guys wanted to come here for and get the hell out.”

Yet the thought of picking up the knife crept into his mind...

[ 11-02-2005 10:31 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Panthar Dantares ]

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