Dat utters a particularly vile curse and checks the connection between the energy cells and the console. The connections are fine; the energy cells are simply exhausted. Murmuring to himself, Dat searches his pack for more of the appropriate energy cells, but comes up empty-handed.

Shrugging to himself, he opens a field ration pack and begins to eat. Even in this, he keeps one hand on the blaster...

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

Long had passed the day when the mysterious young Jharu had come into this place, seeking answers to question he could at that time barely form, questions which had triggered such an eruption of replies from the Guardian of Knowledge that it had finally sparked itself to sleep in a chromatic burst of light and noise and Sith magicks. Well he remembered the ensuing arrival of the Dark Lady, coming to him with the equally cryptic request that he take his sweet time in repairing the Library. Of course he obeyed her rather strange request; how could he not?

He straightened and stretched, trying to get the kinks out, for muscles stiffen and tendons creak after one his age had sat still for so long. But at long last his painstaking detail to minutia had paid off; the Revealer was at last repaired, better than ever; a quick check of the calendar informed him that he had managed to drag the task out well over a year.

Perhaps it was two, he thought to himself with a smile, for after stretching his hands naturally lowered to lay quietly on the tabletop in front of him, like twin red birds. His smile lengthened; the Lady had no reason to restore the hands Roan had taken from him.

But she had.

Kindness, pure kindness was all it was. Something their former Dark Lady of the Warriors would have nothing of, may S'slan have mercy on her soul. An ancient memory wafted up from some place dark and vile within him, causing him to shudder and close his eyes against it. But that only made things worse; the image of the platinum haired wild Kreesha danced a tarantelle on his inner lids, taunting him as she so loved to do to all those she considered her minions.

Which, as he recalled, were the Sith in general.

Thus it was that he flung his eyes open again, turning them this way and that as he sought to erase the image of the hellcat from his eyes. And thus it was that he finally noticed a singular event:

The Revealer was trying to reach out to him.

Now his colorful, baby blue eyes widened in surprise.

The Revealer was trying to tell him something, to actively reach out and tell him something!

His modification actually worked--!

Rising to his feet with a groan he tottered to that wonderful device, stood before its wonder in something akin to awe.

How the Sorcerers managed to invent this beautiful thing--

Shaking his sadly crooked horns, he focused upon the Revealer, watching as the series of graduating silvery balls floated and whirled, each one lighting up to deep and brilliant purple before muting back to its original color.

"Yes?" he ventured at length. "Show me, please."

Now the shadows of the Library segued into greener ones, as the Revealer obediently created about him a living image of forested mountain flank. Snow and rock and tree whirled about then, speeding past as he felt himself zooming closer and closer, to what he didn't know, until at last revealed to his old and tired eyes were two tiny, unobtrusive ships. A distinctly brilliant golden spike shot from one of the ships, aimed up toward the heavens at a 68 degree angle.

The image faded and the Library itself popped into view about him.

"Oh dear," he murmured to himself after a moment or two of shocked silence had ensued. Then he got to his feet and departed from the Library, locking it securely behind him, turning away then and heading off in the direction of the Great Temple of the Warriors as fast as his aged legs could carry him.

All right. Blatherpuff it might have been, but a good leader never lightly dismissed such. The truth of the matter was, my troops were becoming quickly bored out of their collective minds; holding a blockade in stealth mode for the length of time we had did not bring dashing adventure and romance into the lives of those whose reasons for joining the Imperial Troops were quite probably just that.

I had to shake my head at myself; I was probably just as bored as the men were, maybe more so. Thus it was that I didn't quite know how I should react to the news the Deck Officer had just brought to me. Luckily my mixed emotions were handily hidden from him by the enigmatic T-visor of my Mandalorian helm.

"That's correct, Sir. An emergency locator beacon. It lasted, oh, approximately fourteen minutes before ceasing; Sir, it was the YT-2400 you had given permission to land, Sir."

I nodded vaguely, for well did I remember who had piloted that vessel down to the seethingly mysterious surface below.

I wonder if he ever found Darra...

Blinking to myself in disgust for wandering offtrack like that, I brought my attention back to the Bridge Officer.

"And you say there has been no reply to our responding hails?"

Another negative shake of his head only heightened my suspicions. Not many knew what was on the two worlds in this far-flung system; indeed, the majority of the troops in this entire blockade hadn't the foggiest notion where they were, let alone why.

If they only knew...

I frowned behind my visor, wondering.

Is this a portent? Is the time fast approaching for a head to head confrontation?

Are we ready for this yet?

I didn't let a hint of this out.

"I want an infiltrator and attendant fighter sent to the position of that distress beacon. Have the pilots sent here to be briefed before they depart."

"Yessir," came the immediate reply, as the Deck Officer saluted snappily and departed.

Not long after....

The two pilots left the General's ready room, wide eyed at what they were about to do, awed in spite of themselves, and busting with the effort to keep the expressions on their faces from showing the fact. Their mission was to be completed in the utmost secrecy: go to the location on the Sith world--

The Sith world...

--and seek out the one who had sent the signal. If friend, return to Relentless with the achieved personnel. If foe...

The two pilots wasted no time. It did not take them long to find their ships, run through a quick but thorough preflight routine, and then leave the immense super star destroyer, slipping easily through the blockade which in turn opened a pathway for them to follow through.

Soon they were in atmosphere, heading down....

[ 06-25-2006 11:42 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Sorben Tarnus ]

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

His visor darkens slightly, reacting to the sudden light as he moves down the ramp. The ships aren't quite visible yet, so he moves into a more tactically sound position to better monitor the landing zone.

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

Which was at the moment doing what a troposphere does best.

Bolts of lightning sizzled about the cell they were, grumbling, passing through on their direct heading to the origin of the distress signal. They cast an eerie blue glow over the interior of the ships, making the pilots' snowy armor turn the color of dawn before fading once again to white. Only a remnant tendril or two of St. Elmo's flame danced about their airfoils as they continued planetward, grumbling to themselves once more about how quickly the weather had fouled.

Grumbles aside, it takes more than lightning to knock a good Imperial ship from the sky; it wasn't long before they came upon the correct geographic gridzone, homing in on the spot the Relentless's computers had informed them harbored the source of the signal they were seeking.

They landed in a puff of snow and a blast of sleet, settling on either side of the freighter approximately twenty meters on each side.

For a long moment there was no sound but the wail of the wind, the crash of occasional thunder, and the hiss of sleet and ice against the ships' hot engines. Then those crackling ambient noises were augmented by the hiss of hatches opening, and the sounds of armored footfalls as the pilots each left their respective ships and came to an uneasy halt beside them.

Sshtk "Do you see anything yet?" one asked the other.

His companion merely shook his head; gripping their blasters grimly, they set out in a search pattern, closing their ships up tightly in their wake.

[ 06-26-2006 12:16 AM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by The Empire ]

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

A few careful steps bring him close to the two pilots, carbine pointed at the ground, pike end resting on the ground, the shaft held loosely in one hand, looking as nonthreatening as he can in the imposing crimson armor and billowing robes...

[ 06-26-2006 12:22 AM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Dat Cyprios ]

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

This is for those far younger than I, but this information needs to be brought to the Dark Lady.

Huffing and puffing, he at last gained the top, whereupon he moved directly across the great stone courtyard toward a small doorway in the back. This he entered, soon finding himself lost in the whispering, pillared coolness of the Grand Foyer, through which the occasional creak as a warrior armored himself or distant echo of some footstep or other reverberated. He paid these noises scant heed but hurried on, coming at last to the richly carved doors at the rear of the Foyer, the main and yet somehow surprisingly unassuming entrance into the Temple proper.

He stopped at the doors, making certain he was presentable and that his breathing was courteously back to normal. Then he entered, heading down the corridor within, past the Dining hall and several T-intersections until he came to a door of shining, ancient wood, one laid with precious metals and jewels and carved with stories of the past.

Pushing the doors open, he entered into the Receiving Room of the Dark Lord and Lady.

It was empty.

He sighed, fidgeting somewhat, wondering what he should do when a Sith attendant appeared from the unguessable shadows beyond.

"May I help you?" he inquired with a polite bow.

The Librarian bowed in turn, then quickly stated his reason for being here. The Attendant merely smiled coolly, indicated he remain where he was, and with no further ado left to inform the Dark Lady of this recent and seemingly innocuous event.

"Now what," she huffed, exasperated, before moving to the door and flinging it open with a touch of the All. Before her imperious glare was the form of the Receiving Room Attendant, who fell immediately to one knee, his fisted hand over his heart.

"Milady, my Lord, forgive the intrusion, but the Librarian is here with what he proclaims to be news of importance," he said quickly and succinctly, knowing that each unnecessary second he wasted of the Dark Lady's time would be one less second he had to live. For although the young halfling was new to her position, her reputation preceded her.

How I miss the Dark Lady Q'utaro, S'slan rest her soul...

His head snapped up at Rhylla's offhanded reply.

"Go tell him that I'll be along in a moment," she said, then truncated the conversation by turning on her heel and slamming the door in his face. Assured her order would be carried out, she went over to her wardrobe, withdrawing robes of state from its richly scented depths, robes of spidersilk and satin and rich green velvets, shot through with spun gold embroidery and krayt dragon pearl.

Finishing with an elaborately bejeweled headdress, she turned to Rykounagin with a shrug.

"It's something to do, at least," she said offhandedly before heading to the door and out into the corridor, miffed that her morning greeting to him went apparently ignored, hastening to take what revenge for the perceived slight in whatever way that might be next presented to her.

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

Ice chilled his heart.

The Lady Graysith. Oh no--

Determined to discover what had happened to the kind Dark Lady who had restored his hand, the Librarian now let protocol take over. Falling to his knees, he glued his eyes to the stone floor, listening to the rich rustle of cloth as the new Dark lady climbed the dias and settled herself in the smaller of the two thrones which crouched atop it.

"Yes, you may now speak."

The haughty words crashed in his ears like boulders in an avalanche; wincing a little at their harshness, he nodded briefly in a subservient manner and then quickly told her what he had observed.

Silence ensued... then.

"Return to the Library and keep a watch out for any further developments," came an even more imperious command.

Grovelling, he waited prone on the floor until at last he was released by a blessed, "You may go now."

Keeping his eyes riveted to the floor, his entire demeanor one of abject slavery, he backed from the Receiving Room and out into the corridor beyond. Only then did he straightened, a sad look in his tired old eyes, and hurried on his way back to his place, the Library of the Sith...

I'm a Dark Lady, not a scholar! she huffed to herself as she watched the doors come to a silent close in his wake. Only then did she lift one slender finger, motioning to the hovering Attendant who once again materialized from the shadows in the back behind the twin thrones.

"Contact the Captain of the Warriors," she ordered. "See to it that Ch'arlingua is closed. Then--"

She trailed, at a loss.

Then what? She knew there was more, much more than what the majority of her people thought about their current place in Life. How to balance this against the necessity of opening up new avenues.

For opening up new avenues always entailed the expansion of paradigms, and if her people suddenly found themselve thrust into a modern day and time, would they still wish to follow her leadership over them as a whole? Indeed, the warriors had withdrawn from the Triad already at her Father's request; would they adhere to this vow, to then attend to matters against the sorcerers and armorers, if they suddenly discovered they were not the End-All Supreme Power in the Universe, with the time and liberty to expend on such matters?

Or would this discovery make them automatically adhere to the old ways, so as to better hold off against an unknown and possibly hostile future?

ShaRhylla frowned, her head aching from the sudden, unexpected bout of logic and consideration. Indeed, this was not her forte; finally she snorted in exasperation and continued.

"Send up some fighters, to see to whom the signal was sent. If indeed it is possible to discover," she ended, then sending the Attendant off with a wave of one hand.

Then she settled against her throne, glowering into the shadows as she waited to see if Rykounagin would announce his presence there in the Receiving Room or not.

[ 06-26-2006 03:07 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by ShaRhylla ]

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

But where had the time gone?

I shook my head and got up from the bed, leaving the chamber to find her, soon finding her sitting, the expression of a cat who was basking in the sun, only to have it stolen away by a small child playing over her face. Oh my... how long have I been lapsed?

"Forgive me love... I... seem to have lost my self for a moment. What did I miss?" For I had caught the end-tail of her command, and now had to question what it was that I had missed. I did not think it to long, however, perhaps time makes fools of us all.

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

What had he missed...

The simple question roiled like thunder in her mind, heightening her anger to something close to fury. She blinked, icily cold, furious that his query should so elegantly footnote her own thoughts of the same situation applied to a far different circumstance.

"A ship has sent a distress signal outward from Phrinnchatka, a ship not berthed in Ch'arlinqua," she said tersely, her teeth gritted, her lip curled slightly to reveal her pearly fangs.

"Danger plays about our doorstep, I can feel it; I think we should postpone the Blood-Hunt until we discover what this threat reveals."

Not moving from her throne, she merely continued to stare down upon him instead, while the fingers of one hand lifted and fell, lifted and fell, as they rat-a-tatted impatiently against the carved arm of the Chair of State in which she sat.

[ 06-26-2006 03:15 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by ShaRhylla ]

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

"May I ask exactly what danger you feel? I am not attuned to all that is as you are of course... it is a talent reserved for the fairer of the two royals." I bowed my head slightly towards her, a small mark of respect.

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

The ranking officer at length replied, his voice tinny and mechanical sounding.

Sshkt. "Imperial Troopers 2378 and 5398, sent from flagship Relentless on rescue mission this position." Sshkt. The words were terse, slicing the air like knives, battle ready. The half of his viewscreen showing his partner's face now blinked to show the surrounding area, as via his link to his fighter a panoramic view of the mountains and forests in approximately a two-kilometer radius was now displayed. As nothing threatening appeared or in any other manner made itself known, the viewscreen darkened briefly before coming back online, this time focused solely on the Imperial robes the stranger in front of him was wearing.

Sshkt. "We are under orders to return you to Relentless, to debrief with General Tarnus himself."

Falling silent, the troopers turned inward toward each other but angled, efficiently bracketing Dat, their blasters loose in their hands in deference to his seemingly innocent demeanor, but ready to raise and fire at a nanosecond's notice.

Sshkt. "If you will accompany us, Sir--"

The words were not so much of a request as they were an order. Silent then, they waited.

[ 06-26-2006 03:35 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by The Empire ]

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

His voice and manner show no evidence of his faint ire at taking orders from these troopers, his helmet concealing the touch of distaste that crosses his features. Still, their attitude aside, they /were/ taking him away from this alien planet to somewhere where he can (hopefully) finally rest. Besides, he imagines that, in their place, he would act the same way.

One hand touches the hull of the Infiltrator when a sound from above stops him. Tilting his head to the sky, he's startled to see a flight of fighter craft he doesn't recognize streaking across the horizon. He quickens his pace slightly, clambering into the craft and taking a seat as the pilot climbs into the cockpit as well. The hatch closes with a hiss which fades as the cabin pressurizes. Relaxing slightly, he rests his pike against the bulkhead and closes his eyes.

Random images flit across the backs of his eyelids as he succumbs to fatigue, slipping into a light sleep...

[ 06-26-2006 04:00 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Dat Cyprios ]

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

If there was one thing in the entire universe she hated more than anything, it was weakness, and it was precisely that she perceived coming forth from her husband in wave upon wave. Leaning forward a bit, she gripped the arms of her throne.

"If I knew what it was then I wouldn't be so worried now, would I?" she said, biting off each word into an audible chunk. For a moment she remained as she was, then with a sudden sigh she loosened her demeanor and descended from the dias.

"Frankly, I'm surprised at your response, my Lord," she said, putting much emphasis on the final word.

"In fact, I'm surprised to the point of being somewhat disturbed by your reaction; strange, is it not, that you do not seem to care in particular that a ship we are not aware of has sent a call out from K'eel Doba? Is there something you know of that I do not in regards to this matter?

"For a ship in distress should send out a call for help to our people rather than outward, don't you think so? Wouldn't it be more logical, unless of course the ship is not one wishing to be discovered by us, that is.

"And who--" she drew herself up, coming to a halt in front of him.

"Just who do you suppose it is that signal was sent to?

"Remember the time, Rykounagin; this bodes no good for us, no good at all. Mark my words."

Frowning, she turned away from him then and began to pace back and forth in front of the dias. Truly, she had no idea what to do if her suspicions were correct; what if a stronger foe had discovered their presence? What if the Dark Jedi had returned?

What if--

She shook her head, biting her lip, and finally allowed herself to consider the smallest impossibility of it all: the conjecture that even though she brimmed with the All, she still had not learned the full magnitude of her powers.

What if she couldn't stop whatever it was that was going to happen? If indeed anything was.

What would Father do...?

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

Then he went directly to the Revealer.

It hovered in mid-air in front of him, orbs of graduated size, platinum silver with a strange greeny-gold sheen upon their surfaces which made them somewhat difficult to gaze upon. For a long moment he stood before them, afraid to speak the words. For the golden Tattoo on the young girl's wrist told the tale; he didn't know if he really wanted to see the path she had traveled to get where she was.

He stared down at his shaking hands, shook his head at himself.

He had to know; he owed it to Her.

"Show me what has happened to the Dark Lady Q'utaro, and all events preceding this up to two standard years ago."

The magick of the Sith is indeed a wonderful thing. Born inherent to them and honed over centuries of use and development, it elevated them in many ways to the status others would consider to be godlike. When in their heyday they ruled the Universe, they did indeed hold it all in their grip.

Literally.

And those with no knowledge of the intricacies could not hope to understand; thus it was that all the Dark Jedi ever managed to take away with them was their Sith lightning and their name.

The Revealer deepened to ebon, flared into ultraviolet brilliance, then steadied into shades of the sea as a three-dimensional image began to form about the Librarian. Day after day whirled into months and then years, and the story of Jharmeen Q'utaro, the Dark Lady of the Warriors was presented to him in a simple and highly accelerated manner.

He stood agog, unbelieving, quaking to his very soul at the sight of That Which Was, yearning to cry out in warning as she was betrayed, taken by the Master, fuming in unfettered fury as her very daughter sent the Masque to confound her people, crying to see her at last truly die...

The images faded. The Library returned.

The Librarian fell to the floor, unconscious, the weight of what he had seen too much for him to bear all at once. Only in the quietude of slumber would he finally be able to assimilate it all.

His last thought was of one strange to him.

Phalomir.

"Alright then. Well, if you're going to get into a mood this morning, vent it on someone else. I seem to recall, while you were busy sleeping in the dark realms, that we were given an important task, which didn't involve Dark Ladies snapping at their Lords, especially when the former forgets their own place."

Before she could retort or snap back, I continued on, now an enraged Aklay tearing through the small bushes and brambles between it and its prey.

"So, in keeping with your place, once this small, if worrying matter involving the ship is done, you will be accompanying me on a little trip involving a ship of our own. Now if you are done scorning at me, then I shall gladly get on with the business of being what I am, your husband, your lord, and the chosen son of our Father." Without a further word, leaving only the imperius remainder of his words in his wake, hiding that he had actually been hurt slightly be her own scorn, he stole from the chamber and out of the temple.

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

He does not care. He wishes not one whit for the Sith.

Only himself--

The thought surprised her as much as did Rykounagin's insouciance. Blinking again, she tossed her head at it, trying to beat it down and away.

It would not settle, refused to give in and disappear.

You do care, don't you, ShaRhylla. For it is in your blood to do so, isn't it? You are the daughter of Roan, are you not, the true blood-heir to the throne.

That one, the one you took upon yourself; what is he? What is he to the Sith?

Imposter, a pale shadow.

Human...

That thought erupted her fury into volcanic proportions, the heat rising up and bursting from her, sending signals to her feet, sending her flying from the Receiving Room, down the corridor, sensing with the All, following Rykounagin's transparent trail like a hunting Noghri, until she came at last to the great courtyard and stopped at the stone balustrade.

Gripping the stone with both hands, her pearly claws scoring marks in the limestone, she peered down at his receding back as he descended pompously toward the street below. A bit away, growing throngs of people showed the time of day; Sith were leaving their homes and going about their business, and here and there eyes turned upward to watch the white-haired apparent stranger descending the steps toward them.

The movement swift and catlike, ShaRhylla leapt atop the balustrade, stood there leaning into the freshening morning breeze which wafted from the cooler streets below, her hair lifting and tendriling about her face as she pointed imperiously down toward Rykounagin.

"You are no Lord!" she cried out, wanting nothing more than to strike him down as he stood, yes, directly into his back. But as long as he bore the Tattoo of Entitlement she dared not murder her Lord.

Instead, she did the next best thing she could think of.

"I denounce you, and this farce of a marriage!" she cried out, raising her voice that all below could hear her and bear witness to the fact.

"Dark Lord you might be by a Tattoo given to you, but I remain Dark Lady by blood.

"And blood now exists between us, Rykounagin. I am Dark Lady for my people, not a dead Lord... nor the pale shadow of one!"

Saying no more she just stood there, an enraged Valkyrie, wishing she could send Rykounagin to his personal Valhalla to face whatever demons he might find there.

[ 06-26-2006 06:02 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by ShaRhylla ]

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

Slowly I ascended the steps, a breeze that currently tossed through the city turning my robes about my form, footfall after footfall landing on the steps until I finally stood level with her (Save for the difference given by the baulstrode).

"Get down." I said, moving into the courtyard past her. I knew she would follow, for in her fury she was not likely to let me wander away from her so easily. As soon as she was out of sight of those below, I whirled and grasped her by the front of her own robes, pulling her to me.

"Now you listen. And you listen well. Denounce me all you want, hate me if you will, but I am not going to sit back and watch as you spitefully trample over our people. Your own personal pride, is destroying anything you have ever tried to create. Your narcisistic attitude, merely makes you a fool. If you are willing to cast me aside after I have saved you, and helped you get to where you are, then again, you make yourself all the more a fool."

As I spoke, my voice was firm, not threatening, but blade-sharp. "Now get a hold of yourself. I still love you, and if even one snap is all it takes to crush your own love for me, then, as the sith people say, it is a personal problem. But it will not help your station, nor mine, nor our people, nor our father's dreams be accomplished, if all you can think to do is war against me."

My eyes narrowed, faces inches apart. "Now think about how you answer that very, very carefully. Because it's not your pride up for stakes here. It's the fate of our people; and if you hurt them with your choice, it will not be their fury that comes for you in the very end."

I looked into her eyes, the silence stretching, chaos of thoughts raging in our minds. I knew what had created this was indeed my fault on all counts. Just this morning, and the night before we had been close. But now there was a rift, and though she had created it, it was only one persons fault.

Mine.

"And you're right my love... Without you I am no lord of the sith... I am just a Bastard Lord... Now, help me make our people as great as they once were, and forever now should be."

I merely hoped that she would look past herself for just once.

Then truely see things how they were.

And how they were meant to be.

[ 06-26-2006 06:09 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Rykounagin ]

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

Bastard Lord indeed...

"How swiftly you change your tune-- again, Rykounagin!" she hissed, remaining stiff in his grasp, her bi-colored eyes boring holes into his as though by that act she could delve directly through his eyes and into his brain and therein wreak as much havoc as only she could dream of.

"First my concern for the possibility of what could be a real danger is so lightly dismissed as-- as a small worry, and now that worry so suddenly seems to have changed hands, and I am now nothing but a selfish, prideful one--"

She bit off anything else that followed, for indeed ire was rising like magma within her, slithering throughout her speech, tripping up the remainder of what she wished to say before it ever managed to reach her tongue. She trembled all the more fiercely until finally, unable to contain her fury any longer, she raised her hand and with a mere touch of the All pushed Rykounagin away from her. His grip on her bodice was strong enough to rip it a bit, but not strong enough to withstand that push; suddenly he found himself slamming into the stone wall of the Temple, unseen by any other than the halfling.

"And oh so suddenly it is your people, human?" she spat, every word now dripping with spite. For of course pride would not let her back down from her course; she did carry the blood of Dark Lord Roan in her veins, after all.

"Do not touch me ever again, and do not for one minute consider yourself Sith--"

She paused a moment, casting a venomous glance at his glowing wrist.

"Tattoo of Entitlement or not!"

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

I scowled out at the city. Again, she did not look at the bigger picture, a thing I thought she would have known well, as her father was a great believer in such things. "As I was walking away, I was going to deal with that which you called a threat, which you feared. So let me make my terrible ignorance and stupidity from blood up to you. Tell me your concerns. Forgive me, but having gone betwixt our worlds a dozen times without incident, I do not fear a single transmission, as I myself have made them."

I continued to scowl, now glancing back to her. "The reason I consider it a smaller matter, is because of larger importance is the overall goal. To unite the sith, under us, which, I do hope you will still attend me with, when I do go visit the other lords. Now, make your concerns heard to me, and I shall listen."

I gave a mock bow now, trying to keep my annoyance with the one I was starting to lessen in love for. "And then, being as I am your ever-faithful, shall attend to them with all good haste."

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

We shall see who attends to whose needs, my Lord, she thought to herself as she remained utterly silent, now considering him a strange admixture of something beneath her notice but yet too dangerous to overlook. He merely remained before her, as though what she had spoken had no meaning, as if she somehow was going to change her mind.

A General, once having chosen a course, sticks with it, right or wrong...

Thus had her father once spoken to her.

"For the want of a nail, an entire war can be lost, Rykounagin," she hissed enigmatically before falling silent, not desiring to fill the air with any further empty words, but yet not wishing to turn her back on him.

Her eyes then fell on their mingled Tattoo she had left him with. It glowed quietly, as though trying to reach through to her in a silent attempt to let her save face. But, daughter of Roan that she was, she simply could not.

Swiftly, she pointed at the tattoo, let forth a blaze of the All, and in a manner that Roan had denounced his own inherent Sith magicks and connection to them, now erased their conjoined tatto, first from his wrist, then from her own. Once more both stood with nothing other than the Tattoo of Roan emblazoned upon them, both still glowing gold.

"Go do what you feel is best for our people then, Dark Lord," she said quietly, fiercely.

"I stated I will not suffer the will of a dead Lord or a pale one; I would find my place among my people on my own, not through the vagaries of ghosts and shadows. And that place will be to discover how best to lead them against that--"

She pointed upward, outward, toward the heavens.

"-- which you know as well as I do exists, and hangs over our heads like the Axe of Doom. My people do not need leadership which cannot coincide; better you go groveling back to Father--"

A slight pause, a brief gulp. A straightening, firming, determination now filling her violet-rimmed turquoise eyes.

"--and inform him that whatever it is he planned, I will not stand for it.

"I will block your every attempt in whatever foul thing he has planned, that he is trying to engage by using you, by using me;

"I live, and by S'slan I will rule my people and lead them to peace in this benighted future that they have been dragged into!

"One which you apparently seem to dismiss so lightly."

[ 06-26-2006 08:34 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by ShaRhylla ]

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"So go to your room, dream, and play. For only women, and Dark Lady's, not dark tempered children, may rule the sith."

I turned, and whirled down the steps on which I had been decending upon before she had given her cry. It was a shame really. I had loved her.

A pity now that she would no longer live, or at least have the sanity to regret her choices, when my father's dream, and empire, came to it's full existance.

No one, not even his daughter, would stand in the way of his dreams.

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From her heart; not, however, from her memory.

The tuk'ata, for once, has been wounded-- she thought to herself as once more she watched Rykounagin's back recede from her.

And there is nothing more dangerous than that, in all the Diamond of the Sith...

She remained standing quietly where she was a long time after her ex-husband had departed. Her wrist felt strangely different, her heart...

...as icy as her resolve.

What could Father have been planning, to desire I actually marry that wretch? she pondered to herself, absently rubbing upon her altered tattoo.

Surely he didn't actually wish for a descendent from so paltry a sire!

I will marry a Sith, a strong one, one deserving of the title. A Conflict of Entitlement will ensue, to be sure, but the one I choose, whoever that might be, will win.

Her lip curled slightly as she remembered the ease with which she had pushed Rykounagin from her.

I shall see to that.

Nodding to herself in satisfaction, she waited a moment or two longer to make certain Rykounagin had departed from the Temple entirely. Then she followed in his initial footsteps, making her way down the stepped sides of the great ediface, hiding her identity by a simple manipulation with the All, heading toward the Library of the Sith.

There was something she needed to find out...

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