In fact, I wondered briefly what kept Landarian's arrival; I was not at all surprised to see that it was he who was allowed entrance when my equally quiet, "enter," activated the doors to open.

He entered and came directly to my desk, not bothering to sit or salute. I could read the apprehension in his eyes, and knew what it was that had placed it there.

"Sir, the pilots are returning with the acquisition, and report, ahh--"

He paused uncomfortably; I merely smiled grimly behind my visor, knowing what he was going to say, giving him the honor of saying it.

"--several bogies, Sir. They seem to be, ahh--"

Another brief, uncomfortable pause.

"Nothing we've ever encountered before. They do not respond to our hails; Quartermaster gives it a ninety-nine percent probability that they originated on the sunward planet, Sir; the one we retrieved our, ahh-- acquisition from. Sir.

"Shall we engage them?"

He fell silent, chewing his lip, undoubtedly remembering the last time we had encountered those mysterious little fighters that I knew to be Sith.

I shook my head, knowing from far too personal experience the futility of that.

"Nothing would come of it, my friend," I said, rising to my feet and slowly pulling off my helmet as I did so. Reaching a hand up, I absently traced the scar that ran along my jaw and up beyond my eye. From out of nowhere an ancient memory arose of the feral bantha who had thus branded me on Talasea, killing my benefactor, and in the doing acting as a life's nexus of sorts, for it was from there that I went my solitary way in the Bounty Hunter's Guild, growing and gaining more and more expertise, all of which finally led me to--

I blinked, frowning. It wasn't like me to wander off-track like that.

"Under no circumstances is either pilot, or any would-be hero aboard any ship, to try to engage hostilities with the, ahh-- bogies. Track them closely, but do not, I repeat, do not engage them."

I saw the clouds rising in Landarian's eyes, wondered when I should tell him of the strange molecular disintegration beam those marvelous little ships possessed. Recalled the ease with which a certain redhead of my acquaintance, who had come flying to my rescue in such a ship when I was being sucked into another Dark Wannabee's Super Star Destroyer -- sheesh, they always had SSDs, it seems! -- recalled the ease with which she had avoided being caught, wounding Darth Wicked's massive ship before taking off into an entirely too adventurous a future with yours truly.

I kicked myself.

There I go again...

"Track them, but do nothing else. When the acquisition comes aboard, I want him brought directly to me.

"I cannot stress the importance of this; I'll fill you in soon, my friend."

I laid a comradely hand upon Landarian's shoulder, one not given in thus a manner too often; then turning away I retrieved my helmet and put it on.

"That's a promise you can depend on," I said as I returned to my desk and sat down behind it, there to await the arrival of whoever it was the Troopers had plucked from the face of K'eel Doba.

[ 06-26-2006 09:13 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Sorben Tarnus ]

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

The senior-ranking pilot tilts his helmeted head to the side slightly, then gestures toward one of the doors at the periphery of the massive hangar. "...Sir... The General will see you. Now." Apparently the presence of the Sith ships in orbit has unsettled even these two combat-hardened, veteran pilots, as they seem to be a bit more brusque and businesslike than before when they fall in to escort Dat to the lift.

To be truthful, even Dat has his misgivings. Not fear, exactly, but the same kind of unsettled feeling he got when he first realized that he was an... artifact, a man out of time. Closing his eyes, he allows this feeling to slip away into an icy calm, washing away from his mind like dust beneath a chill rain.

The trek from the hangar to the ship's flag offices passes uneventfully, save for the occasional odd glance from some of those they pass along the way. Dat is slowly getting used to this, the same quizzical expression on the faces of so many he meets.

Finally the trip through the colossal ship comes to an end before a typical Imperial door: nondescript, sterile, painted in drab gray. Without the placard, what lies behind could easily be anything, from a storage facility to a lounge. In this case, however, the placard says it all. The junior trooper calls for a halt and keys the touchpad beside the door card, announcing their presence to the officer within.

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

Here we go, my friend...

"Enter," I stated, straightening in my seat, my gloved hands laying atop my desk. The inlaid computer screen scrolled images and characters at me; I gave them a brief glance before raising my face, now to see the arrival of someone whose appearance proclaimed him to be from the past.

And the possibility of that is probably greater than you might believe, Tarnus, I chided myself.

More than one entity in this location has risen from the dead of late.

"I am glad to find you safe and well, considering," I opened, rising a bit from my seat in greeting before settling down once more into it. The red-cloaked figure remained silent, but appeared to loosen a touch upon hearing the tone of my voice, which I was striving to keep somewhere between friendly and neutral. He relaxed his stance ever so slightly, his fingers twitching automatically for the weapon he had been divested of upon his boarding.

I grinned behind my helmet.

I know that feeling, pal...

"May I ask who you are, and inquire as to the circumstances leading to you engaging the locator beacon?" I asked then, indicating he take a seat in front of me. Next to him, Landarian sidled closer, and took a chair third over from the one I indicated, undoubtedly attempting to keep this man at ease.

No use making him feel trapped; he must feel that way enough as it was.

[ 06-26-2006 10:17 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Sorben Tarnus ]

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

Dat closes his eyes and rubs his temples, as one is apt to do when faced with bizarre time travel events. He gathers himself and continues, "I reentered realspace near Endor in the vicinity of Eagle Enterprises SSD Hornett, where I requested and was granted clearance to dock. Aboard Hornett I encountered the company's owner, Aaron Barnes, who arranged a private communication with Admiral Pallaeon. The Admiral confirmed my identity to Captain Barnes, as well as filling me in on some of the events which have come to pass during the years I've missed." He smiles wryly at Tarnus, "Needless to say, I was taken aback and needed some time to assimilate this information. Soon after, though, I was introduced to Jedi Master Shawn Petrolu, as well as a... creature... called Kesh and a damned shifty Bothan female who managed to rifle my fighter while I was detained."

"Captain Barnes was in the process of organizing a mission to rescue two of his crewmen, as well as the Jedi Shayla Petrolu and one other individual, a pilot. Obviously Shawn was tasked to go along, as were the Bothan and Kesh. I was asked to accompany them; Barnes felt that my combat experience would be a worthwhile addition to this mission team. Before we left, however, the Bothan, caught up in some kind of racial hatred, fled Hornett and left sensor range before the crew could track her." Shrugging slightly, he says, half to himself, "Frankly, Sir, we were better off without her."

Dat gestures vaguely to the deck, and by extension to the planet below, "The two ships that your pilots encountered on the surface are those that belonged to our team. We left Hornett aboard the freighter, and Master Petrolu acquired the other craft from General Ahem. At this point, we also picked up another member of our intrepid band," the fatigue bleeding through in his use of semi-comical catchphrases, "a Force-Sensitive human female named Serisa Ker. She was more of a hindrance than a help, but I suppose that a fledgling Jedi is best served by training with another Jedi." That last sentence came through slightly-clenched teeth, his burning hatred for the Jedi flaring unexpectedly before being squelched by reason. He takes a breath and continues the narrative.

"We were allowed through the blockade around the planet, and landed where your crew found our ships. With very little guidance regarding where we were headed, we simply proceeded to make our way through the wilderness. Along the way we encountered a small village, and there we found a family of these strange creatures who called themselves Sith. I'd describe them, but I would imagine that you know at least as much as I do, else this blockade would be unnecessary." Involuntarily his eyes rake over Tarnus, seeking any reaction at all; old habits die hard. "Kesh, against our better judgement, attacked and killed one member of this family, severely wounding Serisa in the process. I did the best that I could, but could only help so much with a field medkit. She entered a Jedi healing trance until we were found and escorted to the Temple."

Dat breaks his momentary silence with a deep breath, "On arriving at the Temple, we were ushered into a large room, where we encountered those we were sent to find, as well as the woman called Graysith, as well as Shayla's consort Erik, Captain Danner, an alien droid of some kind and some sort of Sith... pet." His brow furrows at this last bit, unable to adequately describe the last two arrivals. "Serisa was taken away for medical attention and I slipped to the periphery of the group, listening and observing silently."

"After a time and much discussion, another individual was escorted in, a young woman called JhinDarra." At that, he stops for an instant, trying to cover his gaffe as his mind whirls. General Tarnus... Tarnus... A spectral voice replays in his head, "...You speak of JhinDarra Jhin'Dar Tarnus Danner..." He continues, barely skipping a beat, "The crowd discussed things of which I have little knowledge; I felt like a fifth wheel in all of this. Soon after, however, Graysith recommended that everyone retire for the evening, to meet again the next day."

Relieved to be almost done with the narrative, dulled by exhaustion, he quickens the pace of his speech slightly. "I woke suddenly the next day with a terrible sense of foreboding and left my appointed quarters to search for the others. I was unable to find anyone, or to find anyone who would even /tell/ me where they went. In anticipation of a need for a quick escape, I chose to leave the Temple compound and hike through the wilderness back to the ships. Two full days and a field kit's worth of combat stims later, I arrived only to find the ships rather crudely depowered, their reactor cores and auxiliary generators hacked out. Fortunately, force pikes use high-capacity energy cells. I was able to chain them together and power the communications system enough to send a distress signal. The power level was marginal even for that, though, and failed completely when what I assume to be your signal began to come in." He shrugs, "The rest, as they say, is history; your pilots can describe it more lucidly than I can at this point. I apologize if my narrative has been meandering and confusing; I've been operating in potentially-hostile territory without rest for more than two days..."

His voice trails off, eyes locked on the helmeted figure across the room, wondering what he'll make of such a convoluted story.

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

The crowds were as busy as ever, and it took a deal of effort to weave his way through them, finally reaching the entrance to the temple. He grasped the slate in his hands a bit more tightly now, though there was merely a serving-woman crossing the grounds, likely from the night shift, now going home to rest.

Aside from her, there was merely a patrol of sith approaching from the other direction. He decided to question them, as they were at the temple.

"Excuse me, know you the wearabouts of the Lady ShaRhylla? I have important information for her." His voice was that of a sith.

Loud, and carrying.

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

Darra. He mentioned Darra.

Jhin'Darra, to be exact, and there could be only one...

My head whirled as my heart leapt into my throat, all in the space of mere seconds.

She was there, on the planet. Or had been, at least. Damn Petrolu for not contacting me with this!

Another second ticked by; I jerked fractionally, coming back to reality just in time to hear the remainder of his narrative.

"...in potentially hostile territory for more than two days..."

Now that caught my attention fully. With the greatest effort of my life, it seemed, I forced aside the jubilation of having finally tracked my daughter -- at least this far -- and focused upon the nuances carried between the lines of his final statement.

He had ended up alone on K'eel Doba. The ships were pilfered, ransacked, depowered. The others--

Gone.

Again.

I was torn. On one hand, I wanted nothing more than to send troops blazing to the surface, there to scour and hunt and cleanse until their objective was found. However, common sense forbade this; I knew only too well of the powers involved here. Hadn't I tangled with them before, on more than one occasion? Powers of such strength and capability that it would indeed be better to woo rather than bury them, if the latter was indeed at all possible.

Didn't the Dark Jedi accomplish this once, at least according to what Galen told you? the thought insinuated itself into my mind.

Anything once accomplished can be done so again...

I shook my head fractionally, striving to still the images and conflicts and what ifs and maybes now battling for dominance within me. Leaning forward a little, I forced myself to place all focus directly upon the Imperial Guard--

!!!

--who stood at stiff attention before me.

"Recall again, if you will, the moments in which you stood before this-- Graysith, when all were speaking of things beyond your knowledge.

"Do you remember anything specific, anything at all?"

[ 06-27-2006 01:01 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Sorben Tarnus ]

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

The warriors glanced at each other, wondering why such a human would ask them. "The port has been ordered closed by the authority of the Dark Lady."

I growled quietly, tempted to drag my sleeve up over my arm to show them where the true authority lay in the conversation. However, I had the sneaking suspicion it would not be the best way to resolve such a conflict, the other options involving talking my way past, or gutting them.

Well talking to them likely wouldn't work, if my dear beloved had commnaded them, and I was quite sure gutting them, though effective, would raise questions about the attitude and sanity of the dark lord. "Very well." I turned and stole back into the streets, cursing her name again.

She is pressing a very, very dear line. If she continues to bar father's goals, then she will be removed. I hope for her own good she will see the err of her ways.

[ 06-27-2006 04:44 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Rykounagin ]

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

Closed for the Day...

"Not for the Dark Lady, you aren't!" she growled beneath her breath as with a simple push she opened the doors, revealing a dark and equally looming interior.

All seemed silent as a tomb.

Shrugging off an inexplicable chill, she strode haughtily inside. "Where--" she began, only to stop at the sight of the unconscious Librarian. Her eyes then raised to the mystery that swirled in greeny-gold splendor above his head.

She blinked, knowing within her soul of souls that the mysterious thing was none other than the Revealer the Librarian had spoken of. That it could be apparently misused, and to dire effects, was rather blatantly obvious.

This did not slow her down in the slightest. Lifting her chin, she strode to the Revealer and stopped directly in front of it. There she cast a quick glance about, seeking some sort of access terminal or other means by which one used the thing.

There was nothing in her immediate vicinity but air and the slumbering ancient Sith; letting out a chuff of annoyance, she faced the Revealer once again.

"And just how is it that you work?" she snorted aloud.

"Let me reveal this to you..."

ShaRhylla's involuntary step back was truncated as all about her images began to coalesce from the very air. Before she could gather her wits those images quickly sequed to that of the Librarian, now awake and standing before the silvery-greeny orbs, asking his question. The unsettling image of an image of images danced about her; then with a seeming snuffle of gentle laughter they faded away.

The orbs returned to their original color once again.

ShaRhylla blinked, then smiled as she realized she now understood how to use the Revealer. Drawing herself upright, she spoke purposely to it.

"Show me what's up there now," she commanded imperiously, one hand raised and pointing upward.

"Up there, beyond; show me where the last transmission to be sent there actually went."

The Revealer seemed to blink, then once again altered in appearance as its spherical surfaces suddenly segued into shades of crimson and gold and mahogany. The air about ShaRhylla grew dark, then gradually lightened as millions upon millions of colorful specks suddenly popped into existence.

As did the titanic grouping of immense and unknown ships, which the Revealer thoughtfully zoomed back to now show completely surrounded the entire Khar Delban system.

The halfling gawked, suddenly afraid.

She was right, she was right, and that bastard of a Lord she had married didn't once ask for proof. He just up and assumed...

Another thought.

"Revealer," she asked, knowing it's name.

"Has the one called Rykounagin had any knowledge of this?"

The atmosphere blinked.

"Yes-ss-sss..." came a whisper which might only have been the sighing of the wind...

[ 06-27-2006 04:07 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by ShaRhylla ]

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

Thousands of images flicker past his mind's eye as some deeply-ingrained part of his training comes to the forefront, his face taking slackening somewhat as the flood slows to a trickle, then freezes on a particular picture, that of a group of people gathered in the center of a firelit room on the planet below. Dat surrenders his consciousness, mentally "stepping aside" as the scene begins to play for him. His voice, mannerisms and personality are temporarily subsumed beneath muted characterizations of each individual as they speak in turn.

Dat nods to nothing, a vague gesture, before speaking with a Jedi's serene detachment, "My friends and I have been sent here at the request of Captain Aaron Barnes, to seek out two of his employees and Galen Danner. He was very concerned as to their safety after their departure from the Hornett some time ago..." Dat's eyes flit from their current point of focus, very specifically landing on two empty places in space, "...as I was about yours, and yours."

His eyes shift to take in the rest of the room, "I'm glad to see that..." A very un-Jedi-like look of surprise fills his eyes, obvious though muted by the translation from memory to reality, "Terrin!? Aaron told me that you were dead..."

He moves almost imperceptibly, taking another position and persona as he continues, face taut, yet completely blank, "It would appear he was quite alive, if our observations appear most correct. But where are our manners? We are the Onidorei. And you are?"

Dat's face takes on a more animated cast, his features and manner gaining a sense of inexplicable femininity, and his left hand closes slightly around nothing before he walks forward, moving around an unseen obstacle. He murmurs something too low to hear, then continues forward, a grin growing on his face until, on any other face but Dat's, it would light up the room. "It would appear that rumors of his death were highly exaggerated as well." His hand moves to stroke an unseen object on his shoulder, head tilting a bit to the side, smiling.

A turn to the right, and the feminine persona is gone, replaced by a smuggler's scalawag half-grin. "It's a ahhh...long story. Let's just say having a couple of loyal friends and someone that really and truly loves you is enough to defeat insurmountable odds." His right hand mirrors his earlier movement, closing slightly around nothing before he speaks again, "It's good to see you again, Shawn. It's been..." His voice fades away as he seems to see something across the 'room', just behind where Tarnus is sitting. His smile gives way to vague amazement, voice shrinking away to almost nothing. "Galen..."

"Yeah?" Dat seems to ask himself, turning to face the same point was looking at earlier, just behind the general, his voice once again gaining a higher, feminine tone, impish happiness flowing over his face like water... Just before giving way to an expression whose emotional content is so confused and heartwrenching that even the filter of Dat's muted performance is insufficient to dim its impact...

He holds this position for what must seem like an eternity before lurching slightly to the side, seeming to be a bit unsteady on his feet. "Woah, baby, who is that!?" he slurs, his voice reminiscent of a youngish male.

The unsteadiness is immediately replaced by unsurpassed, feline grace as he takes three steps forward, enveloping an invisible someone in his arms for a few moments before seeming to turn the spectre in his arms, bringing 'them' to face Tarnus just in front of the desk. His eyes hold a deep intensity as they seem to lock on to the General's, counterbalanced by a certain... vacancy, reminding all present that Dat is, at the moment, merely a puppet of the scene replaying in real time in his mind.

"You speak of JhinDarra Jhin'Dar Tarnus Danner..."

Tenderly, he seems to draw the nothingness closer to him, seeking to comfort the ghost.

His arms fall away, crossing in front of him, holding himself in a somewhat frightened embrace, turning his head aside and tilting his neck as if to look into the eyes of someone who is standing beside and behind him, a puzzled expression crossing his features. "Wha-- what do you mean? I am of the house Q'utaro; this you have told me, Mother. I and my stepsister, ShaRhylla, are your children..." His voice is the pale echo of a young woman in her teens, and his face evokes a broad spectrum of emotions before settling on a realization. "M-mother--?"

Dat withdraws a few steps, and seems to return to himself slightly. Not the 'himself' in the here and now, but the 'himself' that, to him, is standing aloof and silent in the large room's periphery, his eyes making a slow survey of the space in his mind, seemingly tracking people as they move.

After a few moments of this, he takes a few steps to the left and speaks in the faintly roguish voice from earlier, somewhat more subdued. "Now, I don't want to interrupt the moment, or your own thoughts, but as we were discussing before, we have a very real threat facing us... and a future to protect." His eyes shift to that point just in front of Tarnus where he had stood earlier. "I suggest we start figuring out what we're going to do to protect that said future, and to minimize the threat facing us or at least be able to meet it head on. And we know that ShaRhylla is here. We need to find out exactly what it is she is up to... and ensure the safety of others in the meantime."

A deep, powerful voice spills from his lips as his face becomes contemplative, his hand rising to a bit below shoulder height, as if resting on something or someone. “You surprise me, Terrin Danner. I feel your desire to let this moment linger, but I hear also the sense to your words. But bear in mind the heavy weight of this moment, for all involved, and give a little time to those who need to let the past resolve itself, even a trifle.” He tilts his head down and to the side, seeming to look at someone standing just beneath his hand before returning his eyes to their previous position and speaking again, a touch more quietly, "I believe strongly that ShaRylla is being used by Roan, but even if she were a puppet she must be the one we face immediately. If she has raised followers among the Sith who would remain loyal to her even after the Dark Lady’s death is proven false, then we must prepare for that. We must also assume that Roan has supplied her with powers or devices to aid her. But we must also reach the vials in the ship immediately, that was something I specifically overheard as a key point in the Master’s plan.” His dark eyes shift slightly downward again, turning slightly to the side. “This I can do, my lady. The rest must wait until we are all ready.” A slight, tentative pause, then, “Your strength inspires me, my lady, but you know I am here for you, should you need me.”

"Her strength inspires you to do what?" he scoffs a bit drunkenly, returning unsteadily to the center of the room. "Remenisce by the light of the fire? And yet you speak of all of these plots and of the risk they pose to us and to those we love? Now is the time, and you are a Dark Lord..." Dat accentuates that slightly slurred remark by curling his fingers in the air to form quotation marks. "So what do you propose we do? Or are the others of us going to have to start plotting our strategy, 'cause buddy, I guarantee you we've done it before, and we're all ready to do it again, with or without the help of a Dark Lord."

Dat's face fills with indignation, his hand rising suddenly and clasping around something, lifting the imaginary something off of the ground with little obvious effort. He leans in slightly, speaking to the something... Someone... in his hand, his voice a low, imposing rumble. “For the love of Sla’an! We can spare one single moment for this reunion, for all involved. I appreciate your eagerness, but never – NEVER – mock my station.” As if realziing what he's just done, Dat lowers and relaxes his hand, faintly abashed. “And we all need to be together and clear as to what our plans are. There is a complicated plot put forth by a powerful enemy at work here, we can ill afford personal matters to stand in our way.”

Dat once again moves left, this time favoring his right leg, breathing heavily and wheezing slightly. "My lady, as joyous as this occassion is sure to be, there are problems. In your absence there has been a... rift of sorts. Some Sith have openly embraced your daughter as their Dark Lady. Others such as myself have steadfastly remained your servants..." His voice fades away and he pauses, closing his eyes, wincing, and seeming to struggle for the strength to continue. "Though the timing be imperfect, I beg your command so that we might deal with this impending threat."

“Salandaar,” he rumbles, straightening and regaining the same powerful bearing as a few moments earlier.. “It is good to know you survived the attack. Please, have Shayla attend to your wounds before you proceed.”

“My lady,” he speaks a bit more softly as he turns, “I shall take Panthar with me. After we quickly freshen and find more suitable clothing, I wish to determine the status of the ship in which we arrived, and if the vials have been removed. It is then perhaps imperative to find your daughter and deal with the usurpation of your position. I shall change and return shortly.” A peculiar, affectionate gesture of his hand, and he begins to move off. Dat nods to an unseen someone as he walks, moving to the room's periphery before returning to the center, once again a facet of himself.

Upon arriving in the center of the room, however, he resumes the stooped, wounded persona. "No no Lord, the healers have been doing well enough. Besides, the group of you, if you mind not my saying, seem quite exhausted already. If the Dark Lady does not mind, I shall return to the infirmary. As pleased as I am to see that you are alive and well, merely coming here has wearied me." With that, he bows, clutching imagined superficial chest wounds, and hobbles to the room's periphery, seeming to almost [i]slink away, before once again returning to the center of the room...

...And to the left wall, facing the wall, bead bowed, hands clenched tightly in fists. He takes a deep breath, seemingly summoning calm before raising his head and turning to face the center of the room. He manages to smile, his lip still pale from where he was biting it so furiously. "Thank you, sister." By this point, this persona seems to be recovering its grace, regaining a bearing that can only be described as regal. A mirthless smile crosses his face as he speaks, voice as smooth as silk, bringing to mind images of queens from throughout the ages. "You must forgive Lord Phalomir," he says, shifting his gaze, "for he has been through much. But... Take care, sir. For we have yet far to go." He gestures to something in the center of the room before moving to stand just in front of the desk.

"Perhaps Salandaar is correct. I am weary, you must be even more so; we have passed through many travails to return here that you might be reunited, and have more ahead. I believe we should retire..." He claps his hands loudly, an obvious summons from a noble to a servant.

He backs away from the desk then, gazing once more around the room as he does so, the ghosts fading suddenly from his view as his back collides with the back wall. Awareness floods back into his eyes, which lock onto the General across the room. He steps into the exact center of the room, his voice carefully neutral.

"...Report complete, General."

[ 06-27-2006 07:25 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Dat Cyprios ]

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

What in Hell's Seven Circles, as Galen was so wont to say, was going on upon those Sith worlds? Certainly far, far more than a mere awakening of a civilization--

--and my daughter was mixed up smack in the middle of it all!

It was only due to the years I had stood in pro temp for Actar that none of my apprehensions came even close to showing, in either my bearing or in the tone of my voice with which I now addressed Major Cyprios.

"Thank you, Sir," I said, both softly and genuinely. I nodded my head to him, softening the atmosphere for a moment before allowing military mein to return. Reaching to a comm-link, I opened a channel, spoke quietly into it; then I rose to my feet, stared the Major square in the eye.

This time, however, I was taking in more then what I had first observed.

"It would do you worlds of good to get some rest and then food, Major," I said, no longer nodding but standing square on my feet in front of him.

He stared back, seeming to sway a bit unsteadily before firming.

I let the moment soften, just a tad, once more.

"What you have just revealed is of great use to the Empire, Major. Should you like, I would be more than happy to take you aboard Relentless, with Captain Landarian's permission, of course. It isn't many who can report in such--"

I paused a moment, my eyes growing a little vague. Luckily he could not see this; I focused on him again as if nothing had happened.

"Detail."

Now I came around my desk, just as the doors slid open to reveal an escort waiting in the corridor without. They saluted smartly, then waited for the one they had been summoned here for.

"These men will escort you to quarters, and show you where you can find food. Please take my offer under consideration; I shall be calling for you again in the very near future."

With that I stiffened, raising a hand in a salute of dismissal.

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

"I will consider your offer, General." With the helmet in place, his emotional veil and distance are once again present as he once again falls into the role his armor, earned with blood and tears, compels him to play.

He takes a step back, nods slightly to acknowledge the Captain, and turns precisely to face the guard / escort troop. Speaking to none of them in particular, or to all of them, his command voice breaks forth. "I am ready."

The troops stand at attention as he moves into their midst. Against all odds, this small experience fills his heart with martial pride; he's pleased to see that the old standards, at least here, haven't fallen as far as one might expect. A quiet order over the comlink from the senior trooper starts the band moving forward down the passageway toward the nearest lift. The group, Dat included, walks in perfect step, a picture of military perfection.

Three decks and a few hundred yards later, the group comes to a halt in front of yet another nondescript door. The placard indicates that behind this door lie visiting officer's quarters. The senior trooper speaks, confirming this.

"Your quarters, Sir. Will there be anything else?"

"Very well." Dat replies. "No, Sergeant. That will be all."

Without another look, he keys open the door and steps inside. The door closes to the sounds of the Sergeant's posting of the guards outside.

Dat sighs to himself as he moves into the room, leaving a trail of crimson from the doorway to the nearest chair. Helmet, robe, armored torso, armored sleeves, gloves... He sits down gingerly, finally forcing himself out of his combat awareness. Absently he reaches up to massage the tattoo on his shoulder, the symbol of the Empire, and the accompanying scar just beneath, the identity he forsook when he accepted his commission into the Guard.

Bending over and rifling through his pack, he manages to find a field ration. He opens the "food" and activates the self-heating panel beneath the main course...

...The ration sits, uneaten, on the table's edge as fatigue claims Dat, his hand falling to rest atop the long line of short scars along his forearm.

[ 06-27-2006 08:44 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Dat Cyprios ]

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

The door to my ready room whooshed shut. I stood a moment, then yanked my helmet off, and cut my eyes to Landarian's.

His were as filled with wonder and worry as my own.

"I'll get the staff," I said unnecessarily as I moved to my desk, opened a private link, called forth the highest brass in the blockade. One after another; my ready room resounded with one tinny, "Yessir," after another, each going further to announce their estimated time of arrival.

I chewed my lip briefly, set a time a half-cycle from the latest ETA. Shot this off to all involved, then closed up the link.

I turned back to Landarian, who merely opened his mouth, closed it. My lip curled at this, and not with anything close to derision. Now I bent, opened a small panel on the underside of my desk, withdrew an intricately designed, and somehow very ancient looking bottle, whose glimmering depths glowed a verdant and vivid green.

"Compliments of those whose direction now lies in our hands, my friend," I said as I then poured ourselves a couple of stiff shots from the bottle I had managed to appropriate the last time I was on K'eel Doba.

The last time...

The thought made me toss the entire drink down in one gulp; not even bothering to look abashed about it, I poured another. Then Landarian and I just sat there sharing a companionable yet heavy silence, and between us slowly but surely made a ghost of the only bottle of Sith brandy I possessed.

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The halfling stood before the now silent Revealer, her rage growing by leaps and bounds as the sighing echoes of its last sibilant statement, single word that it was, misted softly into the shadows.

He knew. The damned traitor knew! And he had the utter gall to--

Her seething thoughts were abruptly interrupted as a strange feeling came over her. Blinking, she stopped in her mental tracks, at first seeking outward but then realizing that this was like seeking a proverbial needle in a ryll-stack. So with great effort she quieted, and let the feeling come to her again, that she might then identify it more easily.

It was with something of a start that the realized it was coming from her wrist...

Scarcely daring to look, she slowly took hold of the sleeve of her gown of state, pushed it up, turned her arm over...

It lay there, intricate and bound to her forever, as black and barren as a starless night...

An instinctive wail rose up within her; gnashing her teeth into her lips was the only thing she could do to prevent it from escaping altogether. Casting her bi-colored eyes upon the Revealer again, she choked out yet another Question.

"S-show me... Mother..."

Once more images rippled into life about her, this time images of green and gray, bearing upon their backs the sudden assurety of Life so overwhelming that it seemed even Death could not win in this place.

And in the middle of it all were two happily embracing figures.

She snarled aloud at that, provoking the Revealer into slamming the images into obscurity.

No. No no no no NO!

Now her pearly-clawed hands fisted, and she began pacing the confines of the Library.

Father. He would know what to do; I know how he... feels about her, I know he will help...

Nodding to herself then, secure that a new path to her desires now lay before her, she quickly pulled down the sleeve of her gown, determined that no one would ever discover her secret.

I shall speak with Father of this, and together we shall find a way to destroy her for good.

And I will be the true Dark Lady of the Warriors our people really needs.

With that she flounced from the Library, and hurriedly returned to the Temple, where she sequestered herself in her suites, not to be disturbed by anyone upon pain of a slow and hideous death.

[ 06-27-2006 10:52 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by ShaRhylla ]

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I looked at my arm, wrenching my robes back, and looked at one of the black tattoos on my arm; the more unique, and important.

Black, was the keyword here.

Malcina Cobridos...

She was alive. The witch of flaming hair and serpant tongue, was alive.

With this grim realization, I hid my arm and began to steal towards the palace. Two bitches to deal with now. One, immediately. The other, soon to follow.

I stole up the steps of the temple, following some sith carrying a dataslate and a spear, and began to search the temple for the former of the two formentioned women. Finally, upon finding two warriors outside her suites, I decided it was likely that this was the place.

I moved to the doors, and saw the warriors begin to shift to bar my path. "If you take another step, to get in my way, I will have you both executed before the day is through. Now get out of my sight." I spat venomously, forcing the doors open with more than a touch of angered strength.

Before the guards could follow or protest, I siezed the sides of the doors and slammed them shut behind me, grabbing a chair and throwing it against the door precisely in place to "bar" it.

I could already see my dear sweet ex rising with hatred on her face, quite possibly mirroring mine (though there was a lack of time or material to check).

We stood, staring hard at each other, before I finally spoke. "This is larger than the both of us. We must work together to deal with this, or it will be the end, and likely death, of us both. Truce?"

[ 06-28-2006 12:46 AM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Rykounagin ]

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My guards-- she thought briefly, another mote of ire rising to mingle with the rest; then she squelched it with the realization that they undoubtedly thought he was yet their Dark Lord.

And indeed now, who is? the taunting whisper came as she moved carefully away from the ornate chair in which she had been quietly sitting, should matters evolve to where she needed more room to maneuver.

There is none; only Mother...

She couldn't help but snort to herself at the thought, one coming so closely upon the heels of her newly hatching plans.

What could her dear Father have been thinking? How could he ever expect that the Tattoo of Entitlement he had graced her ex-husband with ever stand upon its own merit, being passed to the young man after Roan had died?

Indeed, in their brief foray into legitimate leadership, who had been the true anchor, and who the chain?

Her eyes slitted, pushing away those thoughts. Now was not the time for simple recriminations; now was the time to think, as difficult as that might be for her. She remained quiet, studying Rykounagin for a long moment, before tensing slightly, ready to respond with catlike rapidity and grace should it become necessary.

"And for whom do you so urgently stive to obtain the ends, this as you so vaguely put it-- for Father--"

She paused, tensing further.

"Or yourself?"

Another heartbeat passed before she finished with, "I at least have the courage to admit I do this for myself, that by the doing I remain strong, and in that strength find the correct path I must tread to lead my people in the direction and manner that they deserve!"

[ 06-28-2006 01:33 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by ShaRhylla ]

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She had guile, and everything she said had a second purpose. It was always to angle against whoever she dealt with, or to in the end cut their feet out from under them.

"But, I also see a greater purpose here. If you and I fight each other, we weaken each other. If we work together, then we strengthen each other. Father's goals are best for the people, I'm sure you see. Your mothers are against our people, despite her position."

My smile faded now. "Yes, I work for myself, but only because I was raised to do so. In serving father I serve my own purposes, the same going for you."

I bowed my head slightly. "I propose that we stop fighting... I will allow you to lead how this turns. But if you steer away from the greater good of his plan, then I will break the contract."

I moved to the curtain covered exit to the balcony, and gestured with a gloved hand out at the city. "So will you lead our people, or shall I be forced to take the reigns?"

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

"I will never stop fighting you, Rykounagin!" she hissed, crouching a bit in preparation should he decide to attack her.

"You can just go crawling back to Father and admit your failure; I have been used once, and I have no desire to be used again, whether by Father or by you!

"Now begone from my sight, before you regret so foolish an action as entering a lady's bedchamber without her invitation!"

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"I am afraid the Lady is not well... she is suffering delusions, which I fear is the cause of her recent hysteria. Please, keep her in her chambers until I return, for her own good. I'm deeply concerned that she may give commands that could damage our people. If she threatens you or commands you in any way, disregard it, for I assure you my protection from her maddened wrath."

I gave a salute of honor to the warriors, who returned it, obviously prideful that they had been assigned such an important task. "Here, a magical aid to help you." I moved to the door, and pushed my hand against it, giving it a ward similar to that which had been in place the year previous, save that it was set to trigger upon the touching of the handle from within.

"Now, I have business to attend. With honor, stout sith." I turned, and moved down the corridor quickly, making my exit from the temple with all haste. My goal was not the starport anymore, but a much better form of transportation.

Two years ago, I had used it only once, to take me to the place in which my father now existed. It would require a small trek into the mountains, and to a cave in which I had found my first master.

Where the gate to the darker realms lay quite hidden.

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

As he did to me before, she growled to herself, now pacing back into her room and going out onto the balcony. From there she merely watched, keeping herself well hidden in the shadows while beneath her Rykounagin departed the Temple, disappearing into the city streets below.

For a long time she remained there, staring down upon Phrinnchatka, and for one small moment she wondered if she had made a grave error.

For is it not best to keep your friends close, and your enemies even closer?

Shaking her head then, she straightened, drawing in a deep breath of the fresh morning air. Then with the ease of one born inherent to the All, she reached out a casual hand and opened a Portal in the shimmering air in front of her.

Not even casting a glance about herself, she stepped through, and disappeared from her suites and the Temple of the Warriors altogether...

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

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

I remembered the route, but memory would only get me so far, as the course was perilous, and could easily send any man or sith spinning down to ground below, to their death.

Damn the circumstances that send me here. I thought, hand reaching up to grasp another handhold, only four meters under the shelf that formed the edge of the cliff. Damn the woman who forces it.

I grunted at the exertion as my own sweat froze on my forehead, the temperature dropping harshly near the entrance to the cave. Didn't remember that part.

My hand slid very slowly up the rock to grip the top, a layer of ice and frost upon the rock making this last part more dangerous than any other part of the climb. Keeping weight off of the hand, lest it slip, I moved my legs up independantly, crouching my body into a small ball at the edge.

I lifted the hand attop away, and conjured the lotus, turning it to drive it into the ice and rock, then, with surity that it was secure, placed all my weight into an upwards motion and flung myself over the blade onto the small cliff, back slamming hard into the ice and rock, body protesting with flaming pain.

I panted, laying there for a time, then tenderly picked myself up into a quadreped form, and slowly, in that hunched position moved towards the cave, an icey wind blowing out from it, warning me away from what it held inside. I knew what was inside, and unfortunately, it was my goal.

I stepped into the cave and the wind stopped, all perfectly still save for myself, and a crevice at the back of the cave, little more than a crack, barely big enough for a man to pass through.

Silently, I began to shed the layers of clothing upon my body, and began to force my way through the crack, the rock scratching at my flesh, now only clothed in the basic mesh that I wore beneath the robes, slowly forcing my way into it's tight embrace as I had two years ago, when I had first explored this tiny crevass. Stilling my mind then, I remained absolutely frozen, awaiting connection with those existing in a realm most others could never hope to touch except, perhaps, in their most horrible of nightmares.

It had happened before, albeit unexpectedly. Surely it would happen again.

And it was then that the chill of rock against my skin began to burn in comparison to the iciness which reached slyly out to take me...

(((OOC: Rykounagin moves into the Darker Realms in "The Siege of a Soul" in this forum, thankyou.)))

[ 07-03-2006 05:40 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Graysith ]

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They froze as well, eyes yet glued to the screen I had just turned off.

I put down my drink, shifted in my seat.

"Well, gentlemen?" I broke the silence, then waited.

Another moment or two of shocked silence spread out like ripples from a stone tossed into a lake, before breaking out into a quietly mad babble of comments. I merely smiled grimly behind my mask, raised a finger until order restored itself.

A Captain of one of the troop transports, battle-proven for the markings on his uniform, rose to his feet.

"Sir," he said, nodding in respect -- for I had done away with the otherwise obligatory salutes during this hastily assembled meeting --

"Sir, do I understand it correctly that upon the planets we are blockading are-- are Sith?"

He sent eyes widened with incredulosity in my direction.

I tilted my head toward him, understanding how he was feeling. For many had grumbled and scoffed quietly at the beginning of this conference, refusing to believe my introductory remarks...

...until they had heard Major Cyprios's report.

Well, perhaps that isn't entirely accurate, I thought to myself as the Captain regained his seat.

For while the Major's report indicated a growing thunderstorm brewing within this system, one which shows hints of spilling out into the galaxy in general, nowhere did he specifically mention the word Sith

They're just going to have to trust me on that one, at least for now...

I lifted my face.

"Yes," I said simply, grinding home that very thought and all it's dangling attendants.

Cricket noises filled the room for a moment before all hell then broke loose. And within that hell there coalsced but one single demand--

Retrieve this Major Cyprios, get him here on the double! There are questions which must not only be verified, but asked as well!

I nodded, waved the clamor back into the lower murmer of discussion as, putting it into the background for a moment, I ordered just that.

"Yessir!" my comm acquiesced crisply, snkking to a close and remaining quiet for a bit until...

Snkk. "Sir, begging your pardon, but Major Cyprios is not in the quarters assigned to him." Snkk

I frowned, cocked an ear toward the others. The mumuring was continuing, now seeming to revolve around a single denominator: should we attack these planets before they could threaten us, or not?

My staff seemed to be balanced on that issue...

"Find him, and bring him here on the double!" I growled into the comm, incongruously angered at the Major not for his being out of quarters...

...but for having forced the issue before us out into the open.

Damn, but for a Walkn'Fall, we're not ready yet! I thought, wanting to rub my aching forehead as the comm snkk'ed forth a crackly, "Yessir!" before falling into silence.

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

One would be right.

That selfsame lone figure dominates the center of the training mat in one of the ship's many training rooms, this one deserted, old-fashioned. He cuts a striking figure, his motions deceptively easy and dangerously beautiful as he spars against opponents that exist only in his mind. Visions flicker before him, friends and enemies alike. Enemies first, of course, dispatched without mercy. Then teammates, friends, comrades. Their assault is the most violent of all, unrelenting, with the boundless energy of the warrior dead. Each opponent in this battle represents a single scar on his forearm, a single letter, a single trip planetside. Dat's movements become a bit more frenzied, straining his reflexes to the limit, and even still he gives ground before this unseen enemy. His strength begins to wane, the power behind his movements draining slowly away until--

"--jor Cyprios!"

The trooper's insistent voice breaks him from his battle meditation and he returns to the here and now. Turning on legs rubbery from the energy he poured into his ersatz combat, he notices the white-clad figure, as well as four others. Dropping into a relaxed stance, he replies, breathing heavily, "Yes, Sergeant?"

"Sir, General Tarnus requires your presence in his ready room," the senior stormtrooper answers. Both he and the rest of the squad seem a bit impatient, as if they've been there for a bit.

Dat closes his eyes and somehow finds calmness deep within himself, banishing the ghosts of the past to their proper place. "I understand. Let's go." With that, he takes his place once again in the center of the escort squad, moving with perfect precision through the door to the lift, then out of the lift and down the corridor to his destination.

The sergeant's head tilts ever-so-slightly to the side as he sends a communication to General Tarnus, then he keys the door to the ready room open. The sergeant and one other trooper take places flanking the inside of the door, weapons at the ready, the other three taking similar positions in the corridor.

Dat enters last, the door sliding closed behind him. Ahead lies a conference table manned by the fleet's senior officers, some of whose faces display some degree consternation, some a touch of confusion, some completely implacable... And the helmeted figure at the head of the table, unreadable as always.

A few measured steps bring Dat to the perfect position at the foot of the table. Resplendent in his armor, standing at attention, facing straight toward Tarnus, he speaks crisply, "Major Cyprios, reporting as ordered, General."

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

...and released all hell as it rose upright.

"Major, how did you come to be on this planet..."

"...weapons capability; did you see anything of their munitions dumps when you were planetside..."

"...orce users, everyone knows that, but there have always been only two; how many Darths did you see within this system, Major--?"

"Ships! There have been bogeys in-system; Major, is this system the source of those mysterious ships who cut through--"

"How well are you accepted in their midst, Major--?"

"What do they look like?"

What do they look like.

The helmeted figure raised a hand, and by that simple motion brought the cacophony to an abrupt halt. Before him, the Captains and Admirals and scattered officers of lesser rating all closed their collective mouths en masse, and fell into a somewhat dubious silence.

"Major--?" came the gentle, commanding prompt from the helmeted one, who then settled himself more comfortably in his seat, taking his drink in hand once again.

[ 07-03-2006 08:13 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by The Empire ]

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“Admiral, the detailed circumstances by which I arrived on the planet below are available in the record of my initial debrief by General Tarnus, but the short of it is that I was dispatched as a member of a search party from the private vessel Hornett to find and retrieve some missing crewmembers.”

“My exploration of the surface, Colonel, was decidedly limited. In this capacity, however, I saw no particular mass storage of weapons. Of course, given the alien nature of the planet and its inhabitants, there is no way for me to even be sure that I would recognize a weapon even if I were to see it.”

“I saw no evidence of any Force-sensitive individuals on the planet save those in my party, and those we were sent to rescue. I must then recommend, Sir, based on my limited experience, that we not make any assumptions regarding the nature of this race's possible abilities, or lack thereof.”

“I saw a flight of four fighter craft that I must assume belong to the indigenous species, though I didn't see enough to be able to estimate their capabilities.”

“We were treated quite well, though I would surmise that it was more because of the influence of one member of the party we were sent to rescue, as opposed to any particular benevolence on the part of the planet's citizenry.”

“The Sith I encountered were powerful creatures, reddish humanoids with varying shapes and sizes of horns budding from their heads. Still, I must state again that my sampling of the population was exceedingly limited.”

Dat returns his gaze to Tarnus once again, still at stiff attention. “General, the things I know are woefully few. The only thing I can recommend at this point is to anticipate anything.”

With that final comment, Dat remains at rigid attention, eyes focused on General Tarnus through his helmet's viewplate, awaiting the next battery of questions, or orders.

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