"GRAKS" he growled, making a deep gutteral sound. He stopped, seeing if she understood, then sighed. He walked over to the prone Lady and plopped down on his behind next to her.

He folded his arms and stared at the flamed-haired lady. His attention was caught by her, and his wish to hunt the demon took a side for the moment. He had never actually seen a creature like this, but something he recalled from the stories of the old ones made him think...

"Hoo-mun?" he squawked.

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

"Yes, human," she replied in a quiet voice, for the little Ewok did seem somewhat on the flighty side, and she had no wish to startle it any further than the graks apparently had.

"I am a human. You--"

Now she lifted a finger and pointed it at the little being.

"You are Ewok. I am Jharmeen."

She pointed to herself, then back to the Ewok.

"You are--? And, Gr--"

She bit off the remainder of the word, even though she desperately wished to discover how Phalomir fared. For the pantomime of the Ewok was efficiently presented; she had no doubt as to who it was that went by the Ewok term "graks."

Whatever that in itself meant, which could be anything from monster to god to dead...

She gulped, then pulled her mind away from the latter thought, and repeated her own little pantomime, hoping that since the Ewok knew -- albeit loosely -- the term human, it might know other words in Basic. Perhaps a working conversation could eventually begin, the first step in establishing any sort of relationship with another being.

Much less the little fact that it would make seeking assistance from said being much, much easier.

[ 12-10-2007 11:38 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Graysith ]

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“Ewok,” he said, slapping his chest. “Wakti,” he said slowly, again patting his chest. “Wakti!”

The Ewok then leaned in and touched one of the flamed colored knots of hair that tangled over Jharmeen’s shoulder. He let out a breath of wonder, then looked her in the eyes.

“Jar mee?,” he asked. Then he noticed a bright red scratch on her neck, apparently from a stray branch or bush. He pointed to it and made a moaning sound, and gently added “Seefo Jar mee.”

His eyes then grew sharp, as if something occurred to him. He rolled away and grabbed his spear, and sat shaking it in the air above his head.

“Graks! Graks seefo Jar mee!” Finishing with a growl, he puffed his chest and patted it proudly.

He paused, seeing that she did not quite understand. He put his spear down and scooted closer to her again.

“Wakti,” he said, pointing to himself. “Jar mee,” he said, pointing to Jharmeen. “Graks,” he said, pointing into the woods from where they had come.

[ 12-11-2007 09:13 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by patternghost ]

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"No, Wakti," she replied, letting her hand drop to lay quietly in her lap. "Graks-, ahh, Phalomir would not hurt me; umm, Graks no seefo Jarmee."

She shook her head, but stopped. Under normal circumstances she knew Phalomir would die for her, would do so before he would allow so much as a gleeberfly to light upon her face. But now--

Her shoulders slumped a little, and her eyes grew dark with worry and frustration. How would she be able to get across so difficult a concept to the little Ewok? And even if she could, what could they do?

Why was Phalomir acting as he was?

She shook her head, rocked back on her heels.

"Jarmee no seefo Wakti, Graks no seefo Jarmee," she finally said, giving one emphatic nod in Wakti's direction.

[ 12-11-2007 09:42 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Graysith ]

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“Graks-- Graks Thallomeer?” he asked at length. “No seefo Thallomeer?”

Another moan escaped Wakti’s mouth as he sat back, pondering. Some of the words this human spoke were known to him, for the old ones told tales of the tall ones who fought with the tribes to cast out the White Monsters – the GohGraks – who invaded their sacred forest three generations hence. But the tall ones had not come to Endor for ages, and only the oldest of the elders spoke the strange language. The line of Wicket.

And not one of the ancients was alive now…

…except for Eensha!

“Wermo!” exclaimed Wakti, slapping his forehead with his furry hand. He then stood, excited, and wrapped his arm around Jharmeen’s shoulder. “Eensha! Chak chak! Treekthin Eensha, dobra Eensha! Jar mee, Wakti treekthin EENSHA!”

He pulled lightly on her arm, trying to make her stand. When she resisted, he paused and put his hand to his mouth and pointed at his lips. Working his jaw up and down, he made a few nonsense noises, then pointed back at her.

“Eensha!”

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

"Eensha?" she finally repeated, giving her head a quick little shake. The movement sent a flaming wave rippling through the tangle of her hair.

"Eensha? I'm afraid I don't understand; but--"

She smiled and reached out to Wakti.

"You certainly seem extremely adamant about this 'eensha,' whatever that is."

Or possibly whoever, for that matter.

Now she reached up and placed her fingers lightly atop Wakti's lips, then quickly moved them to her own.

"If you mean 'speaking' when you do this, then yes, let us go to, ahh-- wherever or whoever 'eensha' is and speak."

She only hoped that whatever would be spoken, if indeed that was what Wakti was going on about, would be something along the line of a true conversation, and not just another exchange of inexplicable gibberish. Nevertheless, she rose gracefully to her feet, and taking Wakti's stubby hand in her own allowed the Ewok to lead her away.

[ 12-11-2007 10:12 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Graysith ]

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

Finally Wakti stopped, and looked out into a clearing. He pointed with a grand wave of his arm at a huge, ancient looking tree in the center of the clearing. The tree was enormous, the trunk easily 6 or 7 meters in diameter at the base. The branches reached for the heavens, and spread in a canopy that shaded the entire clearing.

“Kna Naa,” whispered Wakti, falling to one knee. He bowed his head for a moment, then stood and turned back to Jharmeen. “Kna Naa, Jar Mee.”

He then turned back to the clearing and pointed to a thatched hut on the edge of the clearing. Smoke curled up from a cook fire in the front of the hut, and a small Ewok sat stirring something in a stone pot.

Wakti took Jharmeen’s hand once more and led her to the hut. The small Ewok was very young looking, and was very surprised to see the odd pair. After speaking a few words in a reverent voice, Wakti pointed to Jharmeen.

“Eensha,” he said. The young Ewok shook her head in protest, but Wakti repeated himself more sternly. Again the younger Ewok protested, this time spouting off a few words of her own.

A raspy voice called out from inside the hut, and the young Ewok sighed and bowed her head to Wakti. Wakti huffed, then led Jharmeen to the door.

Inside the hut, lying on a bed of soft furs, was a very gray, very old-looking Ewok. He was covered with an old red cloth that resembled silk, and wore a necklace of teeth and bones. The bed was supported by a short pole in each corner, and set on top of each was a battered white helmet similar to those of the Empire’s stormtroopers.

The old Ewok gave a wide-eyed look of astonishment, then settled into a more regal posture.

“Wakti,” he said. “Goot.”

Wakti bowed his head and went into a long explanation to the older Ewok. When he was finished, the elder looked into Jharmeen’s eyes and smiled.

“Hooman,” he said. “Mah-nee mah-nee moons, no hooman. I Eensha, son of Crenk, son of Whistlee, son of Wicket. Why you come Ewoks? Why now?”

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

"Eensha," she said in a reverent tone, now coming forward and settling down on her knees in front of the tiny beings strangely-postered bed. For a moment she remained quietly there, her head bowed respectfully. Then she raised it, and looked Eensha steadily in the eye.

"I come here," she began, placing her hand atop her breast.

"I know not why. I make Door to Other Place, but Door brings me here.

"Why, I know not..."

She trailed, then fell into an awkward silence.

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

“You make door, hooman. Door take hooman to Ewoks. Hooman not want Ewoks. Hooman want hooman. No Ewok door go to hooman, hooman door go to hooman. Hooman door in GohGraks Weewa. Wakti take hooman to GohGraks Weewa, hooman see hooman door.”

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

But either way, it would be one step closer toward seeking assistance. At least she fervently hoped so.

Raising her head, she nodded politely at Eensha.

"Thank you," was all she said, and fell quiet, waiting either for further explanation, or to be dismissed.

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

“Wakti say you come with monster,” said Eensha. “Monster angry, frighten Ewoks. You no want Wakti kill monster, you no hurt monster. Why?”

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

Most of the group seemed to be females, and in a moment the brave Ewok with Rykounagin had spun several strange words that seemed to bring tears to the eyes of the nearest newcomers. Many of the females crowded in to gently pat Rykounagin on the back or head and utter soothing sounds.

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

But that man was relentless in his taunts, showing his face here and there and disappearing, only to reappear a hundred meters further into the woods from where he just stood. Frustration had crept in on Phalomir, and every sighting of this old man brought the rage closer to the surface.

The man said nothing, but only stared with a quiet sadness that was maddening. Phalomir felt the sting of pain and betrayal in that stare, and wished he could catch the man and ask why this torment was taking place. And to ask for help in understanding where he was and what he was doing here…

Then the man appeared clearly before him. He stood down a row of tall trees, no more than 20 meters away, facing Phalomir and standing very still.

“You!” cried Phalomir. “Who are you? What do you want from me?!”

The man cocked his head and regarded Phalomir, but remained silent. His features were clear, and Phalomir felt that he knew this man. The line of the jaw, the curve of the nose, it all seemed to be so close to his memory, yet…

Galen! Yes, the brow reminded him of Galen, and the chin, that delicate chin…

Jharmeen.

“You are Jharmeen’s father,” Phalomir stated. The man lowered his head slightly, casting his eyes to the ground. “But you are dead,” Phalomir continued. “She told me you were dead…”

The man raised his head and stared with steely, accusing eyes.

“No,” said Phalomir. “Not just dead. Murdered… murdered by her own hands… but she was…” The man’s eyes turned darker still, and a bony finger raised from the cloak he wore and lifted to point at Phalomir. “… she was told to do this… no, she was given a choice. She saved our race!”

The man’s lips curled into a sneer as his finger bent inward, joining the others to form a tight clawed fist.

“Blood is blood!” called out Phalomir. “Sacrifices! Life is about sacrifices! What is done is done, and her sacrifice was not in vain! She shall live, she shall carry on your legacy, do you not see this? She is the savior of an entire people through the deed done to you!”

The man threw his head back and screamed a long, guttural, wail that shook the trees around Phalomir. He could almost feel the hot breath of the man, even from this distance, and he braced his face to the rage-filled wind before him.

“And I will sacrifice all for her!” he called out. “She will have only wholesome memories of the love you shared, and not this torment! Be gone, vile shade, and never return, for if you raise one shadow of doubt within her for what she did then I shall tear you asunder and scatter your memory to the foul winds!”

The man growled savagely at this. He balled his fists and fell to all fours, spitting apart his cloak as his body seemed to grow in size. His face contorted, extending outward and growing gray and wrinkled. He charged, taking off in a violent flurry that brought him quickly upon a course to meet Phalomir head on. Every step brought another change to the man, until with the very last leap towards Phalomir the man resembled nothing but a huge boar-wolf.

Phalomir, enraged, ducked aside as the creature leaped and brought a powerful kick into the hind quarter that faced him. The boar-wolf crashed into a tree, and before it could rise and turn Phalomir dove at its side with claws extended and fangs bared.

Ripping and tearing, and shouting Jharmeen’s name, Phalomir fought with the beast. He did not feel the rake of claws on his back, nor did he listen to the creature’s mournful howl as he cut a deep slit in its belly and plunged his clawed hand deep into the boar-wolf’s chest.

When Phalomir regained his senses, he found himself standing in the woods holding up a dark warm object in his extended hand, as if offering it to the sky. His hand, arm, and in fact whole body was covered in a sticky red ooze. His back hurt with a sharp pain that overshadowed other such pains seemingly everywhere on his body.

But he knew who he was.

And he knew what he was. He was a Dark Lord of the Ancient Sith. The Protectors. The Defenders. The Conquerors. He looked down at the still body of the boar-wolf on the ground before him. He sneered, thrust his head back and roared the name of his Dark Lady, then threw the beast’s heart to the ground beside its body.

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

"Because he would not harm me, not truly," she finally said. Then that smile faded, for even though she knew Phalomir would die before a hair on her head or that of her friends and/or acquaintances came to any harm, the madness now consuming him presented an entirely different story. Uttering a little sigh, she went on.

"That is, he no harm me or friends." A couple quick and graceful hand gestures hopefully brought that point home.

"But-- he now--" She paused, chewing her lip as she struggled with ideas which for all she knew would prove either too abstract for the little Ewok to comprehend, or were simply to difficult to present.

"He now-- seefo Graks." She pointed first to her head, then to her heart; then waved them in an X-pattern in front of her chest before moving both hands out to either side of her body. One pointed to a dark shadow, a tiny corner in the tent where the dim lighting could not completely reach.

"Darkness fills him," she whispered, then placing both hands on the sides of her head and weaving back and forth. She let them drop, fisting them as they fell, then raised them waist high.

"Phalomir," she said, opening her right fist.

"Graks," she stated, opening the other one. Then she brought them together, allowing the fingers to interlace, gripping each other tightly before pulling them apart as two fists once more.

The left fist pounded the right, which dropped to her side. It then flew to hide behind her back, while the right hand slowly came up to cover her heart.

"Phalomir no seefo Jharmeen, no seefo Eensha," she finished, then fell silent.

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

It is a great roar, rising from the deepest of rumbles, bass vibrations carried more through the ground to conduct up via my body into my ears than by air; this deep grumbling rapidly escalates and ends with...

"Jharmeen!"

I blink in surprise at hearing the name of my Chosen One spit out of a throat inescapably set upon by-- fear? Anguish? Raw fury? Then a smile comes to my lips; there is no one but one who would speak thus, and upon such a subject.

Quickly, lest the waning sounds disappear entirely, I hasten in their direction, oblivious now to the efforts of the undergrowth to hinder my path. At length I come out upon a clearing, in whose middle there stands a familiar form. His head is raised to the sky, his outstretched hand holds... absolutely nothing.

I freeze, deeply aware of the unsettling disappearance of my powers, and for a moment hope I can back away into the dark woods, to contemplate him further and thus determine Phalomir's true intentions.

To no avail. His head lowers, his blazing emerald eyes lock with my own, which turn volcanic in turn. I raise my chin, letting my hands come out to either side of me, lower my face, then once more plant an unfearing look directly into his eyes.

"My Brother, so this is where you have taken yourself," I say lightly, hoping the tone of my voice keep him easy. For without any powers at hand, should he turn out to be as mad as he appears, I would be able to offer no more resistance to him than would a twig against the trampling hooves of a wild ronto.

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

“It was for you, Shade,” he called hoarsely. “It was for you she killed him, for you she bore the guilt and shame of her deed. All for the sake of a defeated race, so it could cheat death and reclaim its honor in a time long past its own.”

He cleaned his hand on his tattered tunic, then wiped away the animal blood that dripped into his eye and took a staggering step in Aelvedaar’s direction. Phalomir noticed his own blood staining the back of his hand and held it up towards Aelvedaar.

“All of that guilt, all of that – that burden. It was wrapped into a little ball and guarded by some beast within her. I killed it, Aelvedaar, slew it to keep her alive in a moment of fury. But I thought it was killing her, this beast, keeping her from her life force. It was the other you, the bad one, who allowed me to do this. I took it in me, all of that, and kept it tight with my own magick, my own love. But the magick is gone, Aelvedaar. My magick is gone, and the guilt and fear and shame run rampant within me.”

Phalomir took another step and paused, bringing himself upright as best he could with the fearsome gouges in his back from the boar-wolf’s claws.

“And now you are here, whole, and powerful. I see the power around you, my Lord. If you have come to claim her, or force the guilt and shame back upon her once more, I will be forced to protest most violently. Her father tried, he became a beast himself and meant to overpower me with the claws and teeth of guilt.”

Phalomir pointed back to the heap of flesh and blood sprawled on the ground behind him.

“He failed,” said Phalomir. “So become a beast if you must, but I will do everything in my power to keep the burden from her. It is mine now, and it is all I can do for her.”

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

Where would the Galaxy be now without the Sith? Did we truly belong here after all?

"But... they committed genocide," I whisper into the dirt at my feet, the words borne upon the barest breath of air. Whether Phalomir in his apparent madness can discern them I cannot tell, indeed I do not care one way or another.

[ 12-27-2007 02:49 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Aelvedaar ]

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“If you mean to parlay your guilt upon me in some devious nature,” he said, “I warn you that I am prepared for you.”

Phalomir stared, wary, at the shape of Aelvedaar. The glow around him dimmed, and Phalomir stepped closer. The fury within him subsided slightly, and his heart loosened a bit. He stepped closer still, and was now standing before the great Dark Lord, looking down upon him.

Phalomir leaned forward and landed on both knees, stiffly facing Aelvedaar. Confusion swam though his mind, but a shimmer of intelligence fought for its very existence.

“Are you real?” he asked, croaking the words through a curtain of hope.

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

All the time, the Ewoks chattered away in their language, making soothing noises and cheerful squeaks.

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

The words slip from my stricken heart before I can stop them. For a moment I remain thus, staring yet at the dirt at our feet; then I raise my face and rock back upon my heels. That perhaps I had erred, and erred greatly, may or may not yet prove to be true; what was true was the fact that, at least for the moment, my magicks had fled me and Phalomir and I were stranded upon a world unknown to me.

"It is good to see you, my Brother," I then rise to my feet, making the formal gestures one Dark Lord of the Sith does to another when greeting him.

"Perhaps you can inform me of this place I so suddenly find myself in. It appears my magicks have become defunct; I fear that should any adversaries arise, we shall have to rely upon your great strength.

"I do have some cunning, though."

Why those particular words had materialized was yet another mystery to me. But materialized they had; until I find myself safely back to my Temple, the others safely beside me, and my magicks restored, how else could I think but on this rather more primitive of a scale.

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

“You are as real as I can make you,” he said, “and that will have to do. My Brother, I fear my sanity is in question. I know it is the guilt and fear and shame that Jharmeen harbored, and it is loose within me. I can feel it haunting my thoughts, swirling in my head…”

Phalomir wiped his brow, and realized that his hand was clean. He dare not look behind him, and instead closed his eyes and rubbed them.

“I cannot even trust what I see,” he sighed.

“But you will help me,” he said, his eyes flinging open and staring wildly at Aelvedaar. “Yes, that is what brothers do! You will be my guide, and tell me what is real and what is not, for you are as real as I make you! And I make you real! Yes, yes, there is hope!”

Phalomir clasped his hands together and looked upwards.

“Thank Slaa’an!” he cried.

He returned his gaze to Aelvedaar, and settled his breathing. “We are on Dagobah, we think. But not Dagobah, no, Endor she said. Furry little things that Jharmeen called Ewoks came for us, I remember this. The boy, Rykounagin, was with us. Something happened, I felt the magick slip away… I saw Jharmeen running from me… I must have done something terrible, Aelvedaar, for she only runs away from me when I am terrible, or when something possesses her, or when she dies. Surely she would not be possessed again so soon? It must have been me, doing something terrible. I have to find her, tell her I am sorry. I cannot die with her thinking I am not sorry.”

[ 12-27-2007 06:30 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Phalomir ]

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Strange swirls of light played behind Phalomir’s eyelids. They reminded him of the gases of a nebula that swirled around a ship that he once rode in, but he could not recall the exact time of that experience. The images were soothing, however, and he felt the turmoil in his mind settle down. His thoughts drifted to younger days: playing on the rocks of the sea cliffs with his tuk’ata; running though the large hallways of his father’s home; practicing martial arts with his best friend Thoran –

Thoran…?

A sound of a throat clearing brought Phalomir back to the moment. His eyes opened to see Aelvedaar’s quizzical expression. Phalomir’s mind remained clear, a much welcome feeling, and a broad smile passed over his face.

“I believe…” he began, “I believe I may be myself again.”

Phalomir’s elation carried his eyes to the sky above him, then he turned about and took in the horizon. His bright eyes greeted every tree, every bird, every cloud, until he completed his turn and looked once again at Aelvedaar. His expression grew even more joyous as he realized his best friend from childhood, Thoran, was standing beside the Dark Lord.

Thoran’s finger went to his lips before Phalomir could speak.

“Shhhh,” Thoran whispered, pointing with his other finger at Aelvedaar. “He doesn’t know I’m here. And if you don’t want to be hauled off to the loony bin then I think we should keep it that way.”

Phalomir’s eyebrows rose, unsure.

“I’m here to help you, buddy,” continued Thoran. “Sure, maybe some psycho doctor somewhere might say your mind is compensating for the oppressive guilt-induced dementia brought on by the collapse of the coping mechanism you cemented around the emotional epicenter extracted from Jharmeen, but hell, who cares about that? Let’s just say that I’m here to help you, and leave it that. Oh, and that nobody else can see me.”

Phalomir’s smile turned into a concerned frown, and his eyes flicked to Aelvedaar.

“Well,” he said, “I am mostly myself again.”

[ 02-05-2008 10:55 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Phalomir ]

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I felt naked, not as if standing naked before strangers, but as a body without flesh upon it in a museum. I could distantly hear voices, and words, but none of them made sense.

It vaguely registered in my mind that I should move, that I could do something, but it just didn't seem possible. I felt that, to move, would be to try to walk across broken glass in bare feet.

No, better, to try to keep myself together. Trying to keep all of it inside of me. Though my body was numb, I could feel my mind reeling, almost as if its contents were a levy of plastic trying to hold back the sea.

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

No matter. Now is not the time to stand about delving into mystery. Now is the time to determine a means by which we might flee this jungled moon, and return to Khar Delba, where I might discern the reason why my magicks have disappeared. But--

"Jharmeen?" I state carefully, the image of the recently raving Phalomir still dancing upon my vision. I cannot help but frown.

"She is here? Then, we must find her, and-- wait."

Once again I pause, as the enormous yet simple incongruity of standing amidst the flora of Endor's moon chatting amicably with this fellow Dark Lord abruptly strikes home. I peer deeply into Phalomir's face.

"How did you come to be here?" Which, in truth, is nothing more than a restatement of the deeper question of how I have come to be here!

"How did you come to find me? Where did you last see my Chosen Daughter? And Panthar Dantares, and Galen Danner; have you seen them as well? They were following behind me..."

[ 02-06-2008 11:46 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Aelvedaar ]

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In a few minutes, the door of the hut opened and a short, fat, gray Ewok entered. He was adorned with bone necklaces, long wooden hoops earrings, and carried a gourd that rattled as he walked. The females backed away and let him approach.

“Eee-too!” the male proclaimed, throwing his hands into the air. Then he looked down at the human and shook the gourd loudly. He then stepped closer and held the gourd over Rykounagin, and stared into his eyes.

“Eee-too?” he asked.

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