“Googly,” he muttered. “Old Googly, that’s what Galen called him. But it wasn’t him, though, not really. That was different, he was a big pain in the butt but he wasn’t so mean looking.”

He realized that nobody was near enough to hear him.

“Hey, wait! What?” he called out, looking around. “How did I get here? I was… oh, right.” Phalomir’s last words to him came wafting through his memory. The eyes vanished from his mind for the moment, replaced by new worries and realizations.

“Hunt for me? How long does he think I’ll be here?”

Worries and realizations now gave way to anxieties and dread. He was hallucinating, that had to be the answer. They surely would not have returned to the Elseness, to this planet, not after being warned by the big Googly himself. Right, that was it. And ShaRhylla crashing the ship, that was just crazy! OK, well, she might actually do that in real life, but this was definitely a dream. All he needed now was to see Graysith and that would seal the deal!

A flash of red hair flickered in the woods, many trees away. Yep, that was all he needed. He was definitely dreaming.

But somehow, he just wasn’t totally convinced.

“Hey!” he called out, just in case, but the red was now gone from sight.

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

This is right. They are here...He is here...!

The thought of being finally reunited with both her beloved Lord and her equally beloved daughter lent wings to her feet; now she ran with the assistance of the All, letting it momentarily dissolve molecular bonds of vegetation which would impede her progress, letting it build pulmonary strength within her, more and firmer muscle fibers, everything she needed so as to be able to run with the fleetness of the wind without having to stop...

Except for a distant cry.

She skidded to a halt, her heart not even accelerated, and cocked her head to listen.

Nothing... save the diminishing echoes of a ghostly, "Hey...!"

Overlain immediately with a distinct chuff.

Tuk'ata.

Her heart nudged even as she turned from her former path, and headed quickly in the direction of that fading echo. Soon she burst out into a small clearing, one surrounded by heavy growth, but one containing the welcomed sight of two wild tuk'ata, one bearing a lad of her disapproving familiarity, and the other...

"Panthar!?" she cried as without pausing she ran up to the female tuk'ata that was carrying the man. It drew back, hissing as it prepared to protect it's burden, but a quick stab into it's mind, aided by her own scent, so reminiscent of ShaRhylla's own, quieted the animal enough that she could come up directly beside it.

For a brief she let her jaw drop in astonishment, then firmed it.

"The others; are they here?" she asked, joy and anticipation leaping into her heart at the thought.

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

She jerked her face to him, her brow wrinkling in thought.

"I--" she began, then stopped.

Deep inside, Something stirred. Something that perhaps wasn't quite as extinguished as certain others would have believed. Something which upon occasion had sent little tendrils out to test, to touch, to seek the response of the living flesh of this halfling who had endured the strangest past of anyone in the entire Galaxy and beyond, for all the tenderness of her years.

Something smiled... and after a little bit of time, backed away.

"I-- well, of course I can!"

She drew herself up haughtily, moved away from the console and waved an imperious hand at them.

"Tell this ship what to do, even while I tell it where to go!"

With that, unaware even unto herself as to just exactly how it was she was able to do this, she closed her eyes and stretched. Immediately everything surrounding them began to crack into darkness, as if something encompassing more than death itself was trying to shatter the very reality of all that existed.

The ship gave a mighty shudder, and forthwith gave itself up into that Night.

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

“It’s good to see you!” he cried. “Yes! Yes, they’re here! They’re over there in the…”

He stepped back, his senses snapping back into place at the sudden realization of what had happened in the previous hours.

“Phal and ShaRhylla,” he said. “They were in the ship, but they were leaving for – well, for somewhere, they didn’t say. They threw us on the beasties here, and sounded like they’d be gone for a long time. Told me to hide in the temple and have this guy hunt for me.”

He reached out a hand and stroked the tuk’ata’s sde. A low growl answered him, but he paid it no attention.

“There was something else,” he said nervously. “Googly Eyes, I think. Or something like him, it was there in the clearing, near the ship. But it was different, like it was laughing at us. Phal and ShaRylla… well, she crashed us here on the planet, and they took off on foot. They came back like snarks out of hell on these beasties, just as those eyes showed up. We shouldn’t be here, I feel that.”

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

So close! She had been so very, very close...

Her eyes snapped open to bore into Panthar's own, seeking deep into his mind now, looking for that which may have slipped there unbeknownst to his conscious awareness. But he was telling the truth.

Her shoulders slumped as for the tiniest of moments she let that disappointment well up and swell completely over her. After doing thus, it continued on until at length it had completely flowed away, leaving determination in its wake.

Motioning that Rykounagin dismount, she took firm hold of both the lad and the towering Sith body which held the human essence of Panthar Dantares.

"Come," she said simply, and without preamble rent open the non-reality in which they were held, allowing them entry back into the reality that was the Great Temple of the Sorcerers on Khar Delba. Behind them, two tuk'ata yowled at the loss of their charges, too distraught by the thievery to be concerned by the strangeness of it all.

((OOC: Follow Graysith, Panthar, and now considered NCP Rykounagin back into A Rose So Sweet in the "Jedi/Sith" forums, thank you.))

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And it had nearly been his home.

“We are here,” he said flatly.

The vastness of eternal darkness stretched before them, lending only an endless stream of unknown landmarks to confound and deflect any attempt to navigate this wasteland. Yet Phalomir knew what he sought was here, out there in the ethereal ocean and unreal substance that was the landscape. All that he was, past and present, though a wild tangle of conflicting memories, held one constant that would not waver. And she was here.

“Jharmeen,” he said softly, gazing into the void. He glanced at ShaRhylla, his strange ally, daughter of hate and love, and no stronger a soul would there ever be.

“She is here,” he said to her. “And so is your father. There is a tower in this wasteland, a mockery of light that stands alone and tall in the curtain of darkness. That is where our search should begin. Feel for it, reach for it, tell me the direction and I will take the ship there.”

((OOC: Follow Phalomir and ShaRhylla into The Hand that Rocks the Cradle in the "Jedi/Sith" forums, thank you.))

[ 03-23-2015 10:21 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Phalomir ]

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The Master sat on the soft grass of the main courtyard of the ruined Temple of Armorers. He had many fond memories of this place and it served him well to reflect on the past and the path before him. His efforts to convince Graysith to assist him in destroying the Phalomir clone had proven fruitless, yet he did gain the valuable knowledge that this possessed thing was not in fact his true son. Well, genetically perhaps, but not equipped with the actual powers required by the darkness.

He wondered where he went wrong with her. Where should he have stopped fabricating? Would it have been enough to just say that the clone intended to kill Phalomir? Perhaps that lie would have sufficed. No matter now, it was enough for her know that her precious blonde had taken up residency by its side. Graysith would surely invade the Realm now.

But could she destroy the thing that dwelled within the clone? He doubted she could, that would take a force more powerful than she could ever hope to wield. She had become quite skilled in manipulating the All, but surely she did not understand it. He had not lied to her about that part, not entirely. He hated the All, hated its existence, hated the day that the Sith discovered it. It was not natural, not like the Force. Not native, even? He had no better answers than she would, it would remain a mystery.

But wait… perhaps there was another who did know more about it. Someone who was there from the beginning, or at least close enough. Yes, Thoran might know. He had not fully understood that strange one’s origins, but he did know that Thoran was part of the Realms long before the Master’s own entry into it. He though back to those days, ran over his own foolishness in his head. Thoran was given to him as an assistant, but in truth he was a spy and a guard. Thoran never professed to know anything about the All, yet he seemed to always be able to get of any situation. He could hop his spirit between realms, even to other physical bodies, hiding in them. That also was quite useful to the Master in those days, but had he really ever stopped to wonder how he could do this? Was Thoran even really a Sith originally?

He wanted answers. He also wanted help with killing the Phalomir clone. Thoran was one who could do it.

Using an old technique, nearly forgotten, he opened a small portal and reached out through it. Seeking, searching, and finally discovering. He held the portal open and widened it, pushing the other end towards his quarry.

Thoran stirred and eventually raised his head. He shook it slowly and with disgust.

"What do you want now", he asked. "Master."

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

“Thoran, my friend!” he exclaimed. “My otherworldly companion, my bosom bu—“

“Let me cut you off right there,” said Thoran. “Your penchant for the dramatic is enough to turn my stomach, but you incessant dribble is even worse. Before you even start to tell me what dire emergency I need to help you with this time, I am going to say that this is the absolute worse timing.”

“No time is ever good,” said the Master. “Time is not our friend, I’m afraid. The heart of the darkness beats inside the breast of a living being. The wrong being.”

Thoran smiled dryly. “So,” he said, “You succeeded in cloning your son then? And the darkness took possession, and you pulled off the scam of all ages. And now the Darker Realms will go war under the leadership of an imposter, but it means nothing to you for now you have been granted your ultimate power and you brought me here to gloat. Did I leave anything out?”

The Master scowled and proffered a hand to Thoran. After a moment, during which Thoran seemed to weigh the option of spitting on it or taking it, he finally thrust his hand into the Master’s and accepted the help in standing.

“There is a problem,” the Master said. “Yes, I admit it, I finally created a clone that I was certain could fool the darkness. It worked for a while, but something in that creature knew that I had resorted to trickery. It nearly killed me.”

“Hmm, what a tragedy that would have been,” Thoran snickered.

“I escaped, of course,” continued the Master. “The thing is bent on owning Phalomir and will not stop until it does. I even tried to involve the witch-- I mean Graysith. I felt sure that she would see my points and join me in saving Phalomir. But she would not join me.”

“Most likely because you lied to her,” quipped Thoran. “You lie to everyone, it’s in your nature. I’ve told you before that you cannot gain allies without proving yourself trustworthy.”

“Yes, yes,” said the Master. “So here I am, friendless, without an ally, trying desperately to save my son from an all-powerful foe.”

“Save your tears,” said Thoran. “Perhaps it’s time to admit defeat in this. Forget the Realms. Forget the power that you seek. Let the darkness have Phalomir and retire to some tropical moon on a distant planet. Gather your strength, drink some fruity drinks, settle down with some furry indigenous fluffball and maybe someday the new Empire will invade and you can use your own magick to kill them all. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

The Master sighed heavily and crossed his arms over his chest.

Thoran thought back through the many years. In the days of Trelanicus, in the workshop where the Eye of R’lous was created, before the days of his imprisonment with Phalomir, he knew this day would come. Phalomir had become a friend in those days and Thoran had hated what he had to do. But the future that once was had to be sacrificed in order to save the present that they had created.

The Master had thought that the scope of the plan was all about stopping the darkness. That was only a small part of it, and there was much that he was not allowed to divulge to the Master. Even now Thoran suspected that there was much more to it than even he understood. He knew of the players, but not of their motives, and not of any prize they sought.

“If you can pull your head out of your backside for a moment,” he said, “then perhaps you can stop and listen to me for a change. Yes, this news you bring is terrible, but it is not the end of the galaxy. At least not entirely. There is more at stake, and as always there is more to the picture than your petty needs.”

Thoran stopped suddenly as a realization came upon him. The grass, the trees, the nearby temple…

“We’re on Korris’ian,” he said flatly.

The Master started to reply, but Thoran cut him short.

“We need to get out of here NOW!” he exclaimed. “This is the place of places, you idiot! We can’t be here! Especially now, if you have set the stupidity in motion! Open a portal and get us somewhere else NOW before it decides to smack us!”

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