Quite literally.

Frantic, I whirled around, seeking any weapon that I could use against this thing. For well I knew that a blaster was about as good against it as a cream puff.

"K'kihl, get yer hiney UP HERE!" I roared, and was soon rewarded by the questioning scrabble of hastening feet. The Verpine stopped in what I could only interpret as being shock; I didn't have time to discuss proceedings in a committee, however.

"Gimme this!"

With no further ado I snatched the hydro-spanner that was dangling limply from one of his pincers; whirling then, I rushed to Aaron's aid and began trying to beat the Devil to death.

A hard enough task, for the damned little thing kept going translucent on me, only to pop back into corporeality once more and take another slice out of Aaron.

"THORAN!!! YOU'RE A SITH, DO SOMETHING!!" I screamed as I continued with my futile battle with the demon, dodging his lashing tail and trying like hell to push aside the rising images of what he had done to friends of mine in the past.

[ 01-02-2007 11:38 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Yaoksi Joao ]

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Not sure of what else to do, Thoran raised the tail above his head, bloody end to the side, and shouted like a mad rancor and standing between the imps and the portal.

“Yaoksi, go now or never!” he shouted. “3…2…”

Hoping Yaoksi understood, and hearing the struggles of Aaron behind him, he threw the tail into the imps and turned to the others. The imps, now behind him, screamed and gibbered and cursed, struggling to regain their footing on the blood-slickened metal of the deck.

“GO NOW!”, he cried, diving for the demon on Aaron. Catching it a solid state, he knocked it to the side and began pummeling, for what little good it would do.

[ 01-02-2007 11:44 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Thoran ]

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With that I dropped the hydrospanner, snatched up the entirely too pale Aaron, slung him over my shoulders with a strength inspired by pure terror, and shot to the Portal.

"K'kihl!!" I roared en route, and then everything went black and greeny-gold and suddenly there was--

((OOC: Follow Yaoksi and Aaron into Destiny Uncertain in the "Jedi/Sith forums, thank you.))

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Thoran dove for the portal himself, and in mid-air was stunned by a sudden and ferociously painful stab in his leg. Without hesitation he closed the portal, the angry cries of the other imp swallowed in the muffling schlick of space and time returning together.

The cold stones felt welcoming, more so than the pain he felt in his leg.

((OOC: Follow Thoran, Cel, and K’khil into Destiny Uncertain in the "Jedi/Sith forums, thank you.))

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She stood in ominous silence, deep within the underbelly of the towering spire of black non-stone, staring with oiled eyes upon the pitiable form hanging suspended before her.

His shredded body was held in place by myriad iron hooks that pierced his flesh, making great rents in his skin that constantly bled and wept. Heavy iron chains were attached to the hooks, pulled tautly to hold him flush against the moist, non-stone of the noisome wall at his back. His head dangled upon his chest, blood and bodily fluids leaking from his de-fanged mouth, seeping from where his proud horns had been pulled out by their roots, his skin hanging in tattered shreds, exposing raw nerve endings to the shrieking cold, thanks to the tender auspices of the demonic imps of this dark and dismal realm.

She coughed slightly, then took a step forward and with her talents sent a brilliant bolt of Sith lightning directly into the deepest of his many wounds. A broad and eager smile came to her face then, as the figure groaned, unable to die, unable to seek surcease of his pain, and lifted turquoise eyes bright with agony and madness, blinking out against this new torment.

"And you would have called yourself King!" she spat in derision, reaching even deeper into the wound to find a vital organ, into which she thrust her nails. Her reward was yet another groan; however, even the most demonic of beings can grow bored when their prey has become too apathetic, too helpless.

No chase, no hunt, no fun.

She removed her hand, gave it a fling to send bits of gore and ichor upon his trembling body. Then after raking his form with her eyes for a final time, she turned and quietly departed from the former Lord Ankrist Roan, seeking out his doppleganger whom she knew held fast his part of control over this place, the Darker Realms of which she was ever becoming more and more a part.

Somewhere deep within her, a flame-haired, violet-eyed image reached out a trembling hand, and momentarily ignored by the encompassing oiliness in which she had become ensnared, snatched up a small kernel. This she raised swiftly to her breast, cupping it with both hands, huddling over it, sobbing in despair, rocking back and forth, back and forth, back and forth...

[ 07-19-2007 03:31 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Graysith ]

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The Master sighed and grabbed Phalomir by the robe. He then stepped through the portal, visualizing the Tower in his mind. This did not thrill him, as the last time he saw the Tower it lay in ruins.

The sound of gibbering and maniacal laughter came floating over the strange air. He turned to see Shayla step delicately through the portal, then he waved his hand to close it.

A group of imps were approaching from the left, viscous drool flying from their mouths as they clamored towards the three intruders. There were six of the vile creatures, all spitting hatred and death at the Sith and the human. The leader of the group screeched a horrible howl as it sprang forward, claws and fangs bared and tail poised to strike into the Master’s heart. As it flew through the air, the Master raised his free hand and sent forth a hot blast of energy that incinerated the creature’s chest. The legs flew to either side of the Master, barely missing Phalomir’s still form, and the head rolled to a stop at the Master’s feet. It bore a very surprised look, and the mouth moved as if trying to spit words of pure hatred, but without the aid of lungs to push the air no sound came out.

The Master looked at the pitiful head at his feet and stomped down upon it, crushing it. He then looked at the group of remaining imps and waited. They stopped, looked at each other, then turned to run in the direction from which they had come. The Master dropped the unconscious Phalomir and raised both hands towards the imps. He let loose with a barrage of energy blasts that left only a smoldering heap of dissolving goo where the imps had been.

He then turned to Shayla, gathered up Phalomir once again, and scowled a look of disgust.

She poaused then, her lips curling into a most unpleasant little smile. "I'd hate for you to linger here and find that you do not hold as much power here as you seem to think."

Her eyes locked with his. "They are but small, demonic imps."

Falling silent then, Shayla, or rather, the Not-Shayla reached out and locked onto the pull of the tower, drawing also upon its stregth to shield her from any attack of the demonic horde as she would be recognized as one with them.

"She motioned once more for the Master to begin moving in the direction she had indicated, remaining beside him as she did so.

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

"There is no Light without Darkness," she responded cryptically.

Then she began to move on, once more sensing the Tower as she did so...

...and sensing someone familiar as well. At first the part of her that was still herself...

...a very small part...

...reached out, sensing something very distant and very small in the connection. But then the darkness within took over, and oiled out in connection.

My sister, I have brought a gift, she thought through that Link.

Then she turned once more to the Master. "We have a ways yet before we reach the Tower," she stated. Then, before the Master could have predicted it, the Not-Shayla connected fully with the Darkness of the Darker Realms, and with the Tower, sending its message that what they had been waiting for had arrived. Once that message was delivered, something of the Darkness locked onto both her and Phalomir, sending forth a blast of Darkness as demons began to gibber and drool in anticipation. And for a moment, the darkness of the Darker Realms turned pitch black, and not one could see even their own hand in front of their face. A blast rocked the entire area, sending all, evne the demons, off their feet.

And when the darkness finally disappated, both Shayla and Phalomir were gone.

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

Before her the imps yowled and cavorted, ripping and tearing into each other, chewing bits and pieces of whatever or whoever happened to come in contact with them; she smiled, her eyes like stagnant pools, watching them work at their play. Then behind her the very fabric of this interdimension ripped, exploded, and spewed out a lusciously familiar form.

What fun will be had with that one, later...

The Darkness oiled and writhed, panting with an anticipation no more painful than that of the demons. For the bodies it now inhabited were simply that: bodies, to do with what It pleased when It had achieved It's goal.

She turned, a black smile showing blacker teeth, oily eyes gleaming to see one goal at least was fulfilled.

"Very good, my Ssisster.." she hissed as she let her dead eyes fall on the silent form at Shayla's feet.

Somewhere deep within, that part of herself still relatively aware raised dull eyes and peeped fearfully through the oil. A familiar form; she gasped... then withdrew all emotion, all feeling, letting the Dark know only that she had seen, and she had gasped.

Nothing else to let It know what she realized about the false Phalomir's black tattoos...

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Phalomir opened groggy eyes and rolled slowly into a sitting position. He glanced from side to side, awareness thundering its way into his head, and his eyes filled with horror at the steady realization of where he was and what was happening.

He stood quickly, nearly stumbling backwards.

“Jharmeen!” he called out, his voice frantic and crackled. “My love, I have come for you, into the heart of Hell, as I promised!” He paused then, waiting, falling victim to a powerful fear that washed over him and permeated his very soul.

The Darkness bubbled more intensely, and Jharmeen’s head lowered to stare blankly into Phalomir’s eyes. Her hands extended upwards, driven by the power within her, and she stepped forward with short jerks. Her hands trembled – vibrated – as they reached upwards towards the now fear-frozen Phalomir. Her mouth opened, her eyes shut, and a sudden stream of blackness shot forth simultaneously from the mouths of Graysith and Shayla and into that of the terror-stricken Phalomir.

The Darkness, now void of the female bodies, allowed them to crumple to the black ground. Heedless of the faint signs of life within them, it now had what it had longed for.

Phalomir stood straight, the last dots of black sinking into his skin. The robe he wore fell away as if eaten by an acid bath, leaving nothing to cover him. His skin now pulsed and throbbed with a darkness beyond night, highlighted here and there by tiny rivulets of red, giving him the appearance of a walking volcano.

He threw back his head and laughed, a deep bellow that echoed through the stillness of the Darker Realms. Indeed, it was a moment to celebrate, to throw back the shroud of deception, and take pride in a job well done.

Time, such a simple dimension for some to conquer, was untouchable to the Darkness. It was forbidden to tamper with the lines of time. But there were others who could abuse the lines of time, others who could be easily convinced to deliver the ultimate vessel, once properly prepared. Yes, this indeed was that vessel. This was the convergence of the Sith, plucked away at the moment of death, and given the ability to wield all that mortal beings could.

Now the balance of existence would tip, now the never-ending game could be won. Now, at last, could there be and end to all things.

Her eyes cut briefly to the gloating mimic of the one she loved, then shuddered quickly away, squinching momentarily shut against the mere sight of the horrific being. When they opened again, it was to rest upon the now-stirring Shayla, who was making feeble attempts to raise herself, pale fingers clawing at the non-ground upon which the two of them lay.

"No--" she whispered, scarcely louder than a puff of air, scarcely daring to move, to release the air from her lungs to voice the word. Then memory returned in a rush, and she recalled all she had seen and done, and what had gone before. Her eyes closed in pain at her treatment of Dark Lord Roan, whom although he knew her not, was worthy of respect simply for the title he once carried proudly, yet evinced by the ragged bits of tattoo-work she remembered seeing peeping out from the open wounds on his face. They closed even more tightly against the raucous laughter booming from the Dark Phalomir as recollection of what her own daughter had gone through by another aspect of that very foulness now ran through her mind.

Beside her, Shayla whimpered... and she then remembered who she was.

"No-!" she said, her voice stronger now as she raised her head again and opened her eyes, staring now with grim determination out upon the sea of ravening imps who gibbered and yowled around them. Summoning the last fading remnants of strength, grasping courage which threatened to flee, she rose to her feet and moved to stand close beside Shayla even as that foulness, ignoring the pair of them as if they were bugs, thankfully disappeared.

"No," she said, this time with quiet determination, drawing in a deep breath even as she reached down deeply into herself, drawing upon the once suppressed but now strengthening All, touching it and feeling the comfort of it alive and pulsing in her very soul.

Not yet recovered enough to escape the dismal realm, standing guard over her dear, adopted sister, she turned to the demon horde and waited for the onslaught.

[ 08-18-2007 12:39 AM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Graysith ]

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The All. That wonderful power, that which bound everything, the glue that held the very universe together...

Even as the slavering demons grew nearer she could feel its strength growing within her; at length she cast a look down at Shayla, who was valiantly trying to regain her own strength and composure.

"Come, my dear Sister," she said softly, for the moment disregarding the darkness and dreariness and danger all about her.

"We need consultation with others far wiser than us."

With that, even as the first demon leaped toward them, fangs and claws extended, she ripped open a portal through the All, and reaching down with both hands grasped Shayla by the arm and physically dragged her through the doorway she had opened to the Great Temple of the Sorcerers on Khar Delba. The doorway closed with a peculiar schlippt even as she did so.

((OOC: Follow Graysith and Shayla into the thread Silence of the Lambs in the "Jedi/Sith" forums, thank you.))

[ 08-19-2007 05:07 AM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Graysith ]

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Without waiting for questions, and without waiting for his courage to give way, Thoran turned away from RhoHalla and slit the air with his finger. A small crack in existence formed before him, shimmering along the edges and then opening like an elongated tear in a wind-blown sheet. He took a deep breath and stepped quickly through.

Thoran glanced around quickly at the desolate black landscape. There were no demons in the immediate vicinity, but he could hear the sickening chattering and howling in the not-to-distant distance. Dark shadows moved across the horizon, and he turned his eyes away to close the portal. He wished he could keep two portals open at once, but it was beyond his ability. In fact, just opening one took a great deal of energy. His ability to move in and out of the Darker Realms was granted to him by the virtue of his servitude to the Master, and now that the bond had been severed he could feel that power fading. But there was still something within that connected him to this land, and this also concerned him.

He turned his body and raised his hand to open the portal back to Sorben’s cell. He hesitated, seeing the Black Tower in all of its ominous glory. He had guessed correctly that there would be very few demons in this locale, but the sight of this monstrous construction made him shiver. He followed the dark skull shaped walls upwards and inhaled the rank air deeply. A figure moved in the shadows behind one of the huge empty eye sockets. Thoran let his hand fall to slice the air once more. A shimmering tear appeared before him, leading into Tarnus’s cell. As it widened he could see the human standing on the other side, eyes wide.

“Hurry!” he hissed.

[ 09-30-2007 02:27 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Thoran ]

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I blinked, then blinked again.

I never knew Hell truly did exist.

"Where are we?" I whispered to the tense form of a rather large Sith I had come out beside, one whom I could only assume to be my fellow and, up until now, unseen prisoner.

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“We’re in the Darker Realms,” he said, more calmly than he expected. “You’re standing near the Black Tower, a place I never want to set foot anywhere near again. That up there,” said Thoran, turning to point at the top of the skull-shaped construct, “is where bad dreams are born. Basically, we’re in Hell.”

Thoran turned back to face Sorben, his eyes shining nervously in the dark light.

“And I’m ready to get the hell out of it,” he said. He raked the air with his hand, making a light whooshing sound. He paused, an eyebrow instinctively raising in curiosity. He bit his lower lip and repeated the motion. A small sprinkling of light danced a thin line in the air before dissipating.

“Uh, yeah,” whispered Thoran. “I think I might need a moment or two to collect my energy again. We should hide.” Thoran looked around, even more nervously now, at the surrounding landscape. His eyes came back around to the Tower, and again he scanned upwards to the empty eye socket.

Thoran’s eyes grew wide as he saw a very tall figure move to the end of the high balcony, and his jaw dropped as recognition swept across him.

“Phalomir…?” he said.

[ 09-30-2007 02:29 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Thoran ]

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I never felt so vulnerable in my life, and for a guy with a history like mine, that's saying a lot.

Then my eyes hit upon the image of the shadowy Sith, but not one too shadowed that I didn't recognize him. It was the one who had promised to help me find Darra.

"What's he doing here?" I growled to Thoran as I sidled closer, trying to ignore the suddenly sinking sensation that struggled to make itself known in my heart.

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Thoran’s ears caught the gibbering of imps coming from every direction. This drew him out of his trance and he looked around to see the surrounding hills covered in the bobbing and slavering beasts, streaming down the horizon as if the lands were flooding with the evil creatures. A tremor of fear sprang from Thoran’s heart, quickly expanding to an icy explosion of terror that set his hands into motion. He struck at the air in front of him repeatedly, trying to rend a tear in the fabric of space and time as he had so often done before. But each stroke brought only a small glimmer of blue essence, growing fainter with every attempt, until his hand only whooshed through the still air.

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“You, Thoran, are afflicted with an ailment caused by one of these creatures, no? Surely the pain must be unbearable, as even now you perspire with the intense sting of the wound. You must feel at times it would be better to lose the leg than face such agony day after day, minute upon minute.

“And you, General Sorben Tarnus of the new galactic Empire, surely you must feel crippled and naked without the might of your fleet and the rigid armor that conceals your fears. And what of the woman whose powers decimated your vast blockade with but a thought. Surely that must make you feel powerless and vulnerable? Well, as it stands, I can help you both.

The last glimmer of fright immediately evaporated with the realization that, well...

I was nothing if a logical man, and while I didn't like to think about it, was fully capable of facing my own existence in what someone I knew entirely too well of was wont to term The Grand Scheme of Things.

I crossed my arms upon my chest, widened my stance, and stared the tarbag straight in his bleary, beady little eyes.

"You may presume all you like, but the Empire does not find itself in the market for bargaining with those who--"

My arms uncrossed to let one hand wave in a nonchalant manner.

"--who live secreted away from reality in places like this."

For that was the truth. I knew deep in my heart that this place was indeed separate, at least for the most part, from the reality in which I lived. And I was damned positive how to make it remain that way.

All I had to do was get out of it...

I paused a moment longer, contemplating, then continued.

"I might ask why you are here, who and whatever you are--" For certainly this was not the Sith I had spoken with who had promised to assist me in the search for my daughter.

"--and why you imply such a desire to 'make a deal' with the Empire? For if you are here of your own volition, certainly your power is greater than ours; why you have not utilized it against us is a question I must ask myself.

"Yet on the other hand, if not here on your own volition then one must presume you to be dead; in either case, I do question why you needed to bargain with those forces that I represent."

It was the most diplomatic speech I'd ever given anybody in my life. Damn if I could find a reason why I was doing it now.

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The dark being then gave a broad smile and backed away a step. The gibbering in the surrounding countryside grew louder and more frenzied. The dark Phalomir paused and called over his shoulder.

Why in all the known universe was this...thing so direly wishing to negotiate with me?

What Thoran might have to offer it was seriously beyond me, for by this time I had mentally delegated him into the category of failure. To me, it made no sense whatsoever that this tarbag would want to deal with him, and thus was more than likely using him in a ploy to "share the spotlight," so to speak. ie: Misdirection.

That it wanted to deal with me, however, and the Empire which I led -- presumably, that is, since Actar and Swatzi seemed to have backed out of the picture of late -- was obvious.

That it had to deal with me told me that, no matter how horrible it might appear, it most certainly needed some kind of assistance getting into our reality. It could not do it on its own.

Which in turn told me something of its powers. I peered more closely at it, then cut a quick glance to the quivering Thoran.

"Hey pal, a little assist would be nice. I want to know, and I want to know now why that thing out there looks like Phalomir." For now I had indeed recalled the name of the Sith with whom I had once made arrangements to find Darra.

A dangerous thought was beginning to creep into the corners of my mind, one I didn't like in the least. And so, to stave off what might quickly spiral into impending doom, I called back to the Sticky Goober:

"What kind of proposition are you talking about?" I asked, then gritted my teeth while I waited impatiently for Thoran to answer me.

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Thoran looked around at the hills surrounding them. The ground itself seemed to move, a bobbing up and down of hideous forms that brought the memory of recent events and a sharp stabbing pain to his leg. He gritted his teeth and looked back a Sorben.

“This isn’t good at all,” he whispered.

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Not to mention how close they were to being actually substantiated.

Cocking my head to one side, I contemplated the war going on between what my senses were telling me... and what my gut was. At length I lifted my head and, uncrossing my arms shot a pointing finger out toward the dark being, jabbing the weird stuff passing as breathable air as if to poke it in its chest.

"No need for all the orchestrations, my friend," I sent him a smile I knew it knew was false.

"I didn't come here because I wanted to; suffice it to say that this was the only means to start my own little war against those you seem so anxious to have me battle. Believe me, I hold them no great love, nor does the Empire; I don't need you to tell me to fight against them."

I stopped, remembering what Galen had told me of history, and let my smile become genuine.

"I think the Empire can handle things on its own, thank you for the offer. So if you'd be so kind as to send me back, I'll get started eradicating the damned Sith from the universe. We'll all live happily ever after then, won't we?"

I paused to let that sink in, then nodded sideways to Thoran, never letting my eyes leave the obnoxious form ahead.

"As for this guy-- no thanks. As I said, the Empire didn't rise to where it is due to forming and maintaining alliances of any kind; we got where we are on our own two feet, and I see no reason why we can't continue along in the same manner to which we dedicate ourselves. Believe me, there's no surprises the Sith can pop off at me any more, nossir; I know what they are capable of, and I know what I am capable of as well.

"We'll go it alone, thanks. Without him."

My pointing finger shot to Thoran, and out of the corner of my mouth I murmured, "Hope you're ready, pal."

I didn't get to where I was without following the mantra of the gambler: in this life, ya gotta know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em, and know when to leap out into and entirely different game altogether...

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