A Foreboding Wind

Inos Moon 42
Tombs of Urias Orian
Necropolis Caves

Stay focused Aleho, said the echoed voice of her master, keep going onwards.

Ruoxf nodded her head as she pressed onward in the darkness, the only light from her lightsaber. Voices called out to her, whispering dark thoughts caressing her like a lover.

Stay focused, use it and dont let it use you.

"Yes Master," replied the young Dark Jedi as kept going onwards, the darkness ever calling.

A massive ripple in the force took hold of Jade and tossed her to the side as Macron went flying through the air. Vengeance ran thick through her veins the instant the alchemist hit the crowd. She snapped hr head towards Sai her blade crackling to life as she did so. Her fangs extended without any control and her eyes slid to the purest black, appearing soulless. “Bastard! Traitor!” The words slipped off her tongue as though it wasn’t even her saying it, but the energy flowing through her made her strong and she felt nothing but vengeance for her master and her Clan. How could Sai turn against either of them?!

Sai’s sunset coloured blade hissed to life and arched in the screeching noise of the two powerful blades snapping against each other. She put up a great effort; the dark side sliding through her veins, till a far away voice, somewhere in her mind whispered something to her. She couldn’t concentrate on it fully but it sounded like a spell a warning, it distracted her enough that Sai turned her and pinned her against the wall holding her saber, and her arm, at bay. She narrowed her eyes the violet colour slowly mixing with the soulless black as she stared at him, his heart beat making her fangs itch for the chance to take what ran through his veins. She struggled against his hold and his heartbeat as he spoke.

“There’s no time to explain; remember your need for instruction! Now’s the time; take advantage, or die.”

As his words hit her she stopped struggling and only looked at him, no nod of understanding, just a look of mild curiosity.

“Follow me.”

Jade followed him, taking half a heartbeat to respond, following suit to close them off from the rest, sending the rocks crashing down. Jade felt Aleho move away from the falling rock and was glad the kid had clear vision enough to do so in such a heat of adventure. She was one of Ashura’s and as such under Jade’s protection. She would have sent the kid a warning but she was too busy concentrating on Sai and wondering if he was actually going to show her the ropes or hang her with them.

Jade followed Sai till he stopped on a dark ledge, catching up and landing about 15 ft away. Only the tips of her fangs showed between her lips as she looked at him. “You have a lot of nerve pulling that stunt.”

Kalei eyed what was going on around her as she stood there, her saber in hand. A small look of confusion crossed her face as she watched Jade moving off after something else had happened. There was to much going on, and she was trying to sort it all out inside of her head. Everyone's feelings were so strong that it was starting to give her a bit of a headache.

Looking at everyone there, she tried to push away the sounds of sabers humming and listen to what was around them.

You can not defeat what lies before you, why are you here? came a voice inside of her head. She knew the voice all to well; it was the voice of her father. Was her father trying to give her advice even though she hadn't seen him since she was a teenager?

As she focused a bit more, she realized it was not the voice of her father after all. The tone was the same but it wasn't him. Pull back now while you still can. Get yourself out of there, leave the others behind. Was she being tested? What was going on?

She could not push the voice out of her head, maybe it was someone getting into her mind from whatever was coming towards them. Closing her eyes and tightening her grip on her lightsaber, she took a deep breath and pushed the voice to the back of her head so now it was only a small whisper. The Huntress knew she had to focus on what she was doing here instead of whatever that voice was telling her to do.

Looking at the others, she was waiting for someone who was more in charge than she was to say the next step. She was here on Tsing's order, as his Black Guard, and she wasn't going to let him down, not on the first thing she was going to be doing for him in this position.

The voices. The darkness. The liquid feel of the Dark Side. It all became too much for the young Guardian to handle. Like a wave of sheer energy Aleho found herself collapsing to the ground, her consciousness sinking into the abyss, her mind lost all connection to the world around her. It was all too much for her.

Just hang on Aleho, be strong. Be strong.

And then her master's voice was no more as she laid on the cold ground. Leho's unconscious mind began to swim in swirls of rage, hate, fear, lust: all that drew upon the Dark Side of the Force. Her life was in in danger, even more so than she could realise as an undead fiend approached her. For a moment it seemed the ghastly creature would kill her for sure, but instead it picked up her young fragile body and carried her off to the heart of the tomb.

[Bring her to me, my undead servant.]

”You have a lot of nerve pulling that stunt.”

Tsainetomo stopped at the ledge, his back to Jade, and let a smile play across his face. The Son of Sadow turned slowly to face the Archpriestess. If she was to choose this particular moment to have her satisfaction, then so be it; he would make her earn it, though.

“I have about as much nerve as you, pretending that people don’t know about your little ‘dental plan’. Tell me, are those for show, or do you just use them to bite off more than you could ever possibly chew?” Tsainetomo crossed his arms, inching backward towards the lip of the ledge until his heels were hanging over the edge, and waited for the onslaught.

Jade obliged. No longer content to abide by the man’s smugness, she fully bared her fangs, her anger given voice with a hiss that ripped from her throat. With hate in her eyes, she launched herself at Tsainetomo, leaving her feet and diving through the 15 feet of space that separated the two. She would relish sinking her teeth deep into his jugular, drinking her fill of his blood and power, draining him until he was a shriveled husk...

...and suddenly, he was not there.

Tsainetomo had calmly watched the woman rushing towards him, and at the last possible moment, took a single step backward, dropping off the ledge and catching it with his hands. Luckily for Jade, the drop was only a few feet, and she tumbled unceremoniously in the dirt below. Sai released his grip and walked over to the seated Jade, and held out a helping hand. “Are you alright?”

Jade, her wounded pride tamping down her rage, grasped his forearm wordlessly and the Keibatsu helped her to her feet. “You have a lot of anger, a lot of power, but no focus. Focus is the gift I will give to you, and it begins with this.” Tsainetomo produced the red adgean he’d found earlier.

Having been a student of Macron herself, Jade stared wide-eyed at the gem and reached for it. Tsainetomo handed it over, and she turned it over lovingly in her hands. “Where did you get this?”

“In the tunnels above. It is what led me to do what I did back there, and it is what leads us on our path below.”

“How?” Jade asked incredulously.

“To hone Focus, you must first understand Commonality. You must be willing to see the big picture in order to discern the details. Concentrate on this place Jade. Feel the song it sings.”

Taking a deep breath, Jade did as she was told, and stretched herself out in the Force. Soon, the resonating thrum of the power inundating the tombs began to beat within her head. “It’s as it was before, like walking through a thick fog, Tsainetomo. I hardly understand...”

Interrupting her, Tsainetomo began to speak again. “Now, ‘listen’ to the gem. Really listen, but don’t block out the tomb. Trust me.” Jade did so, and found that the gem did resonate much the same, just muted. “Now, find the link between them and...” He let his statement trail off, knowing what the result would be, and began to walk.

Jade had to concentrate a bit harder, but her efforts were swiftly rewarded. Suddenly, in her mind’s eye, a gossamer thread shot from the adgean in her hand to end at an unseen terminus somewhere unseen in the tunnel ahead. “Oh!” She exclaimed as she caught up to Sai.

Tsainetomo calmly plucked the gem from Jade’s upturned palm to begin walking, staring at his find once again. Almost absently, he muttered, “You can do it with people, too. Aleho, for instance?”

Jade, having already been given a valuable grain of knowledge was instantly intrigued, but she still let skepticism creep into her voice. “I already do that, Son of Sadow. I am strong, and I telepathically speak to her all the ti...”

Sharply, Tsainetomo raised his voice. He caught the derision she made no effort to hide, and he framed his response accordingly, causing her words to catch in her throat. “No, Jade, you do not! What you do is the equivalent of shouting at the top of your voice in a large hall, hoping that she’s somewhere on the other side, and that she’s listening! It makes no sense, to cast a wide net to catch one fish! Anyone with half a mind and even less Force ability can eavesdrop on your excuse for conversations and...” He calmed down, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. After all, it wasn’t her fault, not entirely, and he did promise to teach her a better way. When he spoke again, his voice was again smooth and measured.

“Find the commonality between you two, think of your oath to Ashura, and your feelings for Aleho. Fill yourself with that emotion, and concentrate on the young girl. You’ll be able to do with her what you’ve learned to do with the gem and our destination below. At first, using that technique, you’ll only know where she is, but with practice, you can pluck the thread and send and receive impressions, and at greater levels, you can begin to manipulate the people with whom you are linked, provided they are weaker than you.”

Jade was nearly overcome with her newfound knowledge. Just as with the adgean, she’d produced an ethereal link between her and the young Aleho. However, her elation was tempered with horror as she discovered the youngling was in the grasp of...something. “Sai, it’s Aleho! She needs our...”

She looked at Tsainetomo with concern, then confusion as she saw the Keibatsu suddenly ignite his tangerine blade, swinging it seemingly with abandon towards her, she ducked, her own hand instinctively closing around her weapon’s hilt. Looking up, she saw Tsainetomo’s blade crashing into another lightsaber blade, locking in an ‘x’ above her.

Jade rolled to the side, her violet blade belching from her hilt, and saw that Tsainetomo’s opponent was as ghastly as the foes they’d dispatched earlier, but this one moved with more surety, and was armed with an archaic lightsaber, old and connected to a power pack on the fiend’s back, but still as deadly, judging the way it held off Tsainetomo’s weapon. Jade approached the ghoul, looking to bisect the thing while it was occupied with the Keibatsu, and watched as it impossibly shunted Sai’s blade to the side and expertly blocked her own strike!

Suddenly, the first ghoul was joined by another, similarly armed, and the group wordlessly began battling. The cavern was lit by the clashing blades time and time again, and soon, Tsainetomo and Jade began to sweat from the exertion and from drawing upon the Force.

The fiends, however, had no such limitations.

“They wield lightsabers like they are Force-users!” Jade shouted above the growl of their weapons.

“Yet, they are clearly not. Further, they seem to be slightly slower, but they won’t get tired, like us.” Tsainetomo added gravely. “They seem to be trying to herd us, rather than kill.”

Jade had to agree. The pair of ghouls did indeed seem to be content in pushing them inexorably down the path they had already begun to travel. “Then, let’s let them!” Jade extinguished her weapon and began to jog down the path, and Sai followed suit, towards what, neither knew. Tsainetomo thought of Macron, and he connected with the Sith, giving the mad Alchemist a veritable breadcrumb trail to follow.

He hoped silently that the trail wouldn’t end at his cold and dead body.

Sadow Palace
Sepros

Zaxen quickly took estimation of the situation as he made his way to Black Guard Hall and the intelligence center within. The palace was a practice in madness as people flocked to and fro in a frenzy, each participant of the mob doing their part to make sense of what was happening in the Orian system. Zaxen weaved himself through the crowded halls as the various pieces of his mind's puzzle began to take shape.

Kar Alabrek has been attacked and likely destroyed...The Consul's coronation at Dystopia has also been attacked...and the Heir to the Bloodline of Sadow has been conceived. His thoughts mulled these facts for perhaps the hundredth time since discovering that they had indeed happened.

Stepping up to the great doors of the Black Guard Hall, Zaxen placed his hand upon the panel to have it scanned, which was the first key. The second key came in a silent inquiry through the Force that only a Black Guardsman could answer. As the doors slid open to allow him access a retinue of droids came shambling up offering any assistance or service that might be required. Zaxen simply waved his hand in dismissal as he continued forward towards the intelligence center.

The Intelligence center of Black Guard Hall was a mini control center with monitors of various sizes and placements displaying everything from the menu at the banquet hall to the galactic news and nearly everything in between. The Dlarit Corporation had spared no expense in establishing its intelligence and monitoring network. Zaxen made full use of it. He began bringing up files on people of interest, people who could have known about the various events, weaknesses of the Dlarit and Naga Sadow assets, and the timing for all that was taking place. As he continued to scan he soon came to realize that it would be impossible for one person to plan and time all the attacks. There was a group and it was deeply rooted.
Zaxen leaned back in his chair and soon realized that trying to piece together this mystery through a computer was pointless. He would have to find a trail and follow it to its source. The answer quickly came. Only five people could know about the pregnancy of Sakura, the Overlord, his two clone DAC guards, himself, and Sakura’s doctor. Of the five the doctor had the highest probability of leaking the information despite being a trusted employee of Dlarit corp. for years.
Zaxen quickly keyed in the data for the doctor and scanned it over. Dr. Conar Villo a thirty year employee who has served as a private physician to the Overlord and those closest to him. Villo was a medical genius having graduated the old Imperial Academy of Medical Sciences at the top of his class and went on to achieve his doctorate in record time. He had served on both the battlefield and in the board room and everything in between. He had also been recognized for his various contributions and theories to the galactic medical community and was considered one of the greatest physicians of his era. He was the perfect target for a usurper.
Zaxen stood and made his way to the exit, he had found his first target.

Sadow Palace Medical Wing
Sepros

Dr. Conar Villo sat at his terminal reading various new reports of the recent attacks as they began to stream in. Lines of concern streaked the man’s face. It seemed the whole system was falling in upon itself. He sent out orders and recommendations for assistance to the areas hit. Dystopia was in pure chaos and all of Tarthos seemed to have simply up and vanished. He made several notes on his keypad and shuffled various articles on his desk when suddenly he felt a sudden wave of uneasiness.
“Greetings Doctor.” Came a cold and even voice.
The sudden break in the relative silence of his office startled Villo and he looked around for the source of the voice. “Who’s there?!”
Suddenly he was there as if he had always been there. The obsidian armor stood out darker against dark, a harbinger of fear, pain, and death. He moved as if he were a wraith, each motion had purpose yet each motion seemed effortless as if were in one place and then suddenly in another. Villo was overwhelmed and nausea began to creep its way through his inner ear and down to the pit of his stomach.
“I’m here to discuss the matter of your treachery.” The shadow spoke.
The Doctor felt his skin flush and immediately go cold. “What are you talking about?!”
The armored shadow stepped closer and stood directly in front of Villo’s desk. “I am referring to the pregnancy of the Overlord’s mistress and the fact that you leaked the information to our enemies.”
“Rediculous!” the doctor’s voice sounded strained in his own ears. His body began to shake with fear. “ I would never do such a thing!”
“You do not sound very convincing doctor…” with that the dark figure raised a gloved hand and the air began to squeak out of Villo’s throat as his lungs were denied replenishment.
Doctor Villo clawed at his wind pipe as fear began to wash over him in waves. “Please…” He strained out. With a sudden flick of the figure’s hand Doctor Villo flew from his chair across the room and crashed into a cabinet of medical supplies. Pain coursed through his body but at least he could breathe once more.
“You will tell me the name of your contact.” The voice spoke with an edge of steel. The doctor felt as if cold fingers were reaching into his brain and squeezing it from the inside. His head exploded in pain and his vision began to blur.
“There is no contact! I don’t know what you are talking about!” The doctor shrieked in agony. The fingers probed deeper and images of memory flashed before his eyes. The nightmare standing over him now twisted his hand and the pain surged once more as he felt his memories being torn out of his mind.
The scene of the examination of Sakura Haruno flashed before him and ran slowly. Every detail was fine tuned as if it were being replayed via a holo projector. Each moment seemed to increase the pain pulsing through Villo’s head. The strain of such a fine memory recall began to overwork the doctor’s brain.
“Tell me what you see.” The voice spoke.
Suddenly it caught his eye. There was a young nurse who had assisted Villo in the examination of Sakura. “There was a nurse…”
“A nurse?” the shadow asked.
“Y-yes, Lori is her name.” Villo struggled with consciousness as he spoke. “She was there with me.”
“Thank you doctor… you have been very helpful.” Then the pain was gone with the shadow as if it were never there, as if it had been a dream.

Inos Moon 42
Tombs of Urias Orian
Necropolis Caves
Lower Level Caves

"I think we are getting closer," commented Kalei. "The Dark Side seems even stronger down here."

"I'd agree with that," replied Zaroth. "I keep seeing shadows moving from the corners of my eyes. It's taking a lot of concentration to keep my head clear."

Macron spoke abruptly as visions swirled in his troubled brain. "Aleho's in trouble, and Sai and Jade are being pressed deeper into the tunnels," he snarled. "We've got to move faster."

Ekeia stepped ahead, peering into the darkness. "Wait a sec. Something's moving, but I sense no life." Her saber snapped on, illuminating the area dimly. "Wait, I see something- somethings moving. More undead I bet!"

The other three Dark Jedi ignited their blades an instant later, bathing the tunnel in differing shades of light.

Three forms strode into view, gaunt mummies with brown flesh stretched tight on their bones like rotten cardboard. They each carried a lightsaber hilt of olden design, connected to a belt pack that hung loosely on their bony hips. All three ignited blades of a sizzling red color and ragged edges, raising them and moving to the attack as the party gaped.

Macron laughed, summoning a wall of crushing Force energy to slam into them and bowl them over like pins. Except, it didn't happen that way. The wave dissipated as it struck their leathery bodies, the energy absorbed by the husks as the dim glow behind their eyes brightened. The Derriphan spirits bound to their husks drank the power like blood.

The alchemist screamed in horror as his mind began to snap. "Don't use the Force on them! Defend yourselves," he howled as he drew his second blade and ignited it. "Garrrrrrrhhhh!" He had lost the ability to speak as Rage overtook his body. He began to rain furious stabs and blows on the strongest one of the corpses, driving it back from the Journeymen.

The other two corpses assaulted Zaroth, Ekeia, and Kalei. Both of the cadavers were roughly equal to Knights in saber skills. Zaroth was barely holding his own against the corpse, slamming his own crimson blade into the red one of his foe. Ekeia and Kalei danced about the other mummy, darting in with measured strikes. They were much faster, but the corpse was skilled with a blade and untiring.

"They're holding us back," yelled Kalei. "They're trying to separate us from the others!"

"Strike the cables!" shouted Zaroth. "Shut their sabers down! We are more maneuverable!"

The Warlord growled deep in his throat, spittle flying from his lips as he immersed himself deep in the Dark Side. The corpse he fought was good with his blade- but the raging alchemist was better. He shut one blade off, ducked a high strike by the undead and snapped the switch back on in a vicious Trakata strike. Macron's orange blade cut cleanly through the pelvis of the corpse, leaving the halves to topple to the floor. His red blade spun in a Makashi swirl that removed both the right arm and saber cable of the cadaver, leaving it to squirm helplessly.

"Too bad you're dead and can't feel the sweet pain anymore," spat the madman as he wiped the slobber from his chin and flipped it carelessly into the undead's supine face. "Now for the rest of you. Hold them off for just a moment, then jump aside!" he said loudly as he turned to the others battling. He dropped both saber hilts and raised his hands. Debris began to swirl around him, rocks and stones becoming airborne as the Whirlwind took hold.

"Now!" the scream ripped from Macron's lips as he threw his hands towards the mummies. The spinning mass of rocks and stones slammed like a pillar into the twin corpses as the Dark Jedi jumped aside. Old bones were crushed, fragile electronics ruined. One undead went down as a melon-sized rock crushed his skull with a puff of dust.

The other walking dead had avoided the worst of it, although her protosaber was ruined. "Get her!" snarled Zaroth as he dove forward. The dead woman was set upon by the three Journeymen and summarily carved into smoking bits. The air smelled now of old burned flesh and rock dust.

"That sucked. I can't do that much more," commented Macron as he huffed with exertion. "No time for chit-chat, we have to go help the others. If Aleho gets ruined, Ashura will never let me hear the end of it," he mumbled. "Frack."

High Security Wing
Cenota Detention Facility
Gamuslag; Third Moon of Sepros

Dry air hung in the filthy cell and the stench of urine permeated the stone walls. Time seemed to stay still as first days, then weeks, then months passed. Vallen’dere had long since given up hope of rescue. His only awareness of time was the twice daily visits of the guard who would toss something supposedly called ‘food’ through the thin slit in the otherwise solid door. The door must have been half a meter thick, and solid durasteel. The Cenota Facility had been built to keep people in, and so far that was exactly what it was doing.

Vallen’s eyes stung when the slit creaked open and the duty officer shined a torch inside. Vallen was not used to light; his cell did not have any. Originally the permanent darkness had brought chaos to his internal body clock, but after a while he had grown used to it, and was even starting to take comfort in it. There was something tranquil about the darkness; it was peaceful; safe. Safer than the outside at least. His last time outside the cell had been his brief excursion to the so-called resort of Lor Zatean. Vallen preferred not to remember that. The creatures . . . the creatures had haunted his dreams ever since. He hoped one day to return the favour to the stooge from the Chamber of Justice, Malisane de Ath, who had ‘released’ him only to use him as bait. It had worked; but not without nearly costing Vallen his life. Justice . . . yeah right.

The guard pushed something inside and drew the slit shut again. Vallen tested the object with a claw first and sniffed; the smell reminded him of rotting meat. It was probably some type of processed nerf, but most likely past its recommended consumption date. The war was probably taking its toll on the system’s supply lines, no surprise that the prisoners only got what the main populace threw away. Vallen forced a mouthful of the meat in his mouth and did his best not to let it touch his tongue. It was sour, and he half expected it to kill him, but death would be a welcome release from the indefinite – translation: permanent – incarceration he faced.

Vallen still wondered why they didn’t just kill him. He was just a waste of resources, and if they had hoped to learn anything from him they surely must have realised they would either have done so by now or never would. They wouldn’t, of course. Vallen had been innocent. But his brief time spent with Darth Vexatus had caused them to see fit to place him under arrest. All known associates had been rounded up. Vallen predicted there must have been at least several dozen hauled up in the Cenota Facility, not counting those who must have still been at large. The influence of an Elder went far; and, even with the traitor dead, Vallen doubted the system could ever be free of one who had directly helped build it. And yet, despite all the ones who had gotten away, Vallen – innocent – had had been one of the few sent to Gamuslag. A bitter irony for the Fosh who had only met the Falleen once during the mission to the Dajorra system, and the ‘fall’ of Estle City to the hands of the Yuuzhan Vong.

‘Fall’. Vallen wondered how many other things had ‘fallen’ only to in truth have been betrayed.

Sleep came to Vallen not long after he had finished the ‘meal’ he had been given for the evening. Vallen dreaded sleep. It was the worst time. The darkness was peaceful, comforting. But sleep was wild and untamed. If not for the nightmares of the beasts from Zatean, it was the sword; the burning, flaming sword that seemed to haunt his every thought. It made Vallen want to tear his eyes out, but instead he had simply taken to plucking out his feathers. He was certain he must have been almost bald now. The pain gave him a slight relief, and was his way of escaping the dreams. Vallen was not blind to the irony that they had been fighting the Vong for years, and here he was turning to voluntary pain as his ‘saviour’. It was poetic justice in a way. Vallen had no idea how the war effort was going, but if the quality of the food was any indication he surmised not as well as it could be.

The floor seemed to burn beneath him and Vallen felt the heat of the fire as it lifted him up and enveloped him; the sword appeared again, looming in the darkness above, calling . . .

Guard Quarters
Cenota Facility

Corporal Mayk dropped into one of the chairs in the mess hall and felt his muscles collapse. It had been an unusually long shift. Most of the second shift crew had been called to the attacks in Seng Karash on Aeotheran. Word had it the nightclub had been the target of a terrorist attack, but news didn’t travel fast to Cenota. Mayk only had gossip to go on, and gossip was notoriously inaccurate.

‘How’s the bird?’ Sergeant Macklay asked.

‘How do you think?’ Mayk quipped. He was tired. He wasn’t in the mood for Macklay’s sarcasm.

Macklay didn’t press the point. Mayk guessed he must have looked pretty shattered for the sergeant to drop the chance to wind him up. ‘Did you know he’s started having nightmares like the others?’ Mayk said.

Macklay scooped a spoonful of custard into his mouth. ‘Another . . . one?’ he said between mouthfuls. ‘That makes . . . what . . . six, right?’

Mayk nodded his head. Six. It was getting worse. ‘He was jabbering something about a ‘sword’ in his sleep too. Jonez mentioned something similar about one of the others.’

Macklay’s scraped the bowl clean and took a long time as he chewed the last of his dessert. ‘That makes four of them that I know of,’ he finally said. ‘Bets on the other two?’

Mayk snorted but didn’t answer. He was thinking the same thing. Whatever was haunting the inmates it was spreading . . . and the coincidence of the events on Aeotheran could not have been worse. If Cenota had problems they would need all the help they could get. Wardens were not trained to fight convicts; they were there to keep them locked in.

A lump formed in Mayk’s throat as thought about it. The way Command was, he wouldn’t be surprised if they just bombed the place. What were a few convicts to the rest of the Corporation? Mayk swallowed and pushed the thought out of his mind. All he could hope was whatever the problem was on Aeotheran that it was dealt with quickly . . . but with the archaeologists off on their little jaunt to Inos everything was going slow. Something was coming . . . he could feel it. You didn’t need to be Force-sensitive to know when stuff was all going wrong. Things were unravelling, but forces was spread out too thinly all across the system; Mayk just hoped that when whatever it was coming finally came they were all ready to deal with it . . .

Inos Moon 42
Tombs of Urias Orian
Necropolis Caves
Sanctum of Curwen Sunei

The undead slave brought the young unconscious Dark Jedi into the sanctum of its master. The robed figure looked to Aleho and pointed to the stone table, a moment later the girl was placed on it.

Curwen Sunei circled the table as he looked at Leho, this child was but bait for the others. He pulled out another of his red adgean crystals and placed it on the girl's forehead, her young body jerked for a second as the crystal seemed to be a focal point for the Dark Side. Aleho's skin seemed to slightly turn a darker shade of red as her body struggled with the negative energy feeding through her.

"Soon," whispered Curwen as he sensed his guests approaching, "all the pieces will be in place."

---
OOC: Just a bit of character development for her, the affect of it wont come into play until she reaches adulthood... will probably need to have Macron 'undo' or 'fix' what's being done to her when she's rescued. Ain't I a stinker

Inos Moon 42
Tombs of Urias Orian
Necropolis Caves
Upper Level Caves

The power of the Dark Side flowed through Shimura, dulling his force perception even though he tried to suppress it. His cloak wrapped around his lean body and his pale hand thumbing the ignition of his saber. Shimura had always kept tabs on his friends and family, mostly Macron. His friends' study of various Sith subjects had always interested the Zabrak, while Macron wanted to learn about them, Shimura wanted to apply them. He wasn't sure what his cousin was up to, but the tombs generally meant something big. The Keibatsu pulled himself from his thoughts and noticed faint scream echoing off the walls of the cave that tingled the nerves in his thick skull.

The thudding of his combat boots striking stone reverberated off the walls of the cave as he pushed himself into a run. He knew he was missing something, something savage. Something he wanted to jump into. He knew it was odd he didn't have to face any of the renown tomb defences which could only mean that the tomb had another target in mind, one far more dangerous than himself. His friend and his entourage were the targets.

"Won't Macron be surprised?" Shimura mused to himself as he pushed himself harder.

Dystopia
Seng Karash

There was a scraping noise, and then a loud clatter as the panel fell onto the black tiled floor. Immediately the figure of Senth hit the floor in a crouch, covering the room with his blaster. A second later Ashura and Malisane followed, and Bob came last.
Malisane dusted himself off. “Never thought I’d be creeping down the ventilation ducts of my own club,” he grumbled.
Ashura looked around curiously at the expensively furnished room, with its bright lighting and soft music. “Where are we?”
“Third floor,” Malisane replied, “Schmooze. People come here to be seen.”
“Can’t they be seen elsewhere or something?” Bob asked.
“It’s a social thing,” Malisane replied, “pretentious people.”
“Ah,” Bob replied, “you got anything to drink?”
“Help yourself,” Malisane replied reaching over the bar for a bottle, “we seem to have given them the slip.”
Ashura nodded. He was studying a competition poster on the wall. “Drink a two litre bucket of beer in under thirty seconds and win a hundred credits.” He frowned. “That’s impossible.”
“That’s not impossible,” Bob replied, “we just to knock back those big metal jugs of ale at the Conclave in less time. They’re about two litres.”
“I need a drink,” Ashura said quietly.

Senth was stood by the door listening. “Looks like the lobby outside is occupied,” he reported.
“Is there another way out of here?” Ashura asked Malisane.
The Battlelord considered this. “Well there’s the window. There’s a safety field around the building, in the event of fire or generally falling out you drift downwards.”
“Sounds good,” Bob replied. He looked around then picked up a chair, and casually hurled it through the glass window smashing glass outwards and sending a blast of cold air into the bar. The chair hovered in the air outside for a few seconds as the Sith watched it, then they blinked in surprise as it began to buckle, immense forces crushing it into a solid metal cube. Then it fell out of sight.
“Someone’s been messing with the forcefield,” Malisane surmised, “if that had been one of us we’d have been crushed to a pulp.”
“Think of everything these people don’t they?” Ashura asked.
“Who?” Bob demanded, “who is doing this?”
“That’s what we have to find out.” Malisane said grimly.

Inos Moon 42
Tombs of Urias Orian
Necropolis Caves
Sanctum of Curwen Sunei

After running almost aimlessly through the tunnels, Tsainetomo nearly skidded into Jade’s back as the passageway opened abruptly into a large antechamber, the entirety of which was bathed in an ethereal crimson glow. His eyes, like the Archpriestess’s, were transfixed by the insanely large vein of adgean running the length of the walls, and at the lifeless beings who seemed to be mining it.

“Eureka!” the Son of Sadow breathlessly exclaimed as the majesty of their find overwhelmed him. The Herald’s office would reward the clan richly, indeed. Here was an almost inexhaustible source of power crystals for their trademark weapons...provided they could evict the current tenant and claim the place as their own, of course.

Jade’s eyes averted themselves to an unassuming dais in the center of the chamber. “Aleho!” she exclaimed as she made her way towards the structure. Tsainetomo barely had a chance to register the wizened figure standing over the youngling when the sound of a lightsaber igniting reached his ear. Spinning, he uttered a curse as his own weapon belched forth.

“Frack, I forgot all about these wretches!” The ghouls had finally caught up and engaged him. “Get to Aleho if you can; I’ll try to hold them off as long as I can!”

Tsainetomo’s tangerine blade carved angry ellipticals and infinities in front of him as he drank deep of the Dark Side, enjoining the Force to bolster his efforts. Initially, he was rewarded as he ran effortlessly through Djem So’s forms, his entire body the picture of menacing fluidity. The ghoul’s surrounded him, attacking from in front and behind, and the Son of Sadow’s mind fractured as he accepted the inevitability of the situation. Only the matter of Time’s inexorable passage stood between him and his fall.

As he shared the Family Keibatsu’s curious penchant for a split neurosis, he slipped into his unique version. His was to become detached from everything, seeking to resolve a situation, often to the cost of friend and foe, alike. This time, thankfully, he’d only be endangering himself.

Tsainetomo, Archpriest of the Krath Mysteries, Son of Sadow, he of Keibatsu blood, spun and slashed, dodged and parried as his blade growled and met the archaic weapons time and time again, sparks bathing the space around him. Tirelessly, the ghouls sought to strike him down. Finally, the Korun-Keibatsu swung from left to right, from down to up, and cleaved the ghoul in front of him in a clean diagonal. As he spun away from the ruined specter, his ‘saber arm was up and his body open, leaving his form open to attack from the ghoul behind him.

As he completed his spin, the ghoul took the bait and ran Sai through with its own weapon, the blade passing mercifully through his side and just above his right kidney, punching through his back. He stood, impaled upon the lightsaber blade as time froze, his mouth open in a silent scream as the wound radiated icy fire through his body.

The ghoul also remained frozen, its own mouth mimicking the ragged laughter that emanated from the old Dark Adept standing over Aleho some distance away.

Suprisingly, Tsainetomo still held strength enough to stand, and to grasp the ghoul’s ‘saber wrist.

Painfully, the Son of Sadow pulled the blade through him and the specter closer to his Force-drained form.

Defiantly, the Keibatsu, one of the finest warriors the Clan had to offer, brought his own ‘saber to bear and dragged the blade through the fiend’s throat and neck, and the head fell away, the wound smoking and glowing. The ancient weapon extinguished itself as the Dark Side left the corpse.

A second later, Tsainetomo sank to his knees, his own sunset blade dying in the crimson light of the chamber.

Jade stopped short of the dais and Aleho, the Dark Adept cackling all the while.

Dystopia
Seng karash


Tsingtao entered the ballroom after the "all clear" signal was given. He was followed by Joseem Maruuch, Horus Blackheart, and the rest of the Sapphire Squadron. Bodies and debris were everywhere.

"So this is where all the chaos started." the Sith Warrior thought to himself.

"OVER HERE!" yelled Xander near the middle of the room.

Tsingtao walked towards the Sapphire Commander. "What is it?" he asked.

"Some sort of droid,," replied Xander. "though I know not of its origins."

"Whatever it is, we need to know more about it," Tsingtao stated. "Have your second team back on the roof and have these remains taken to the Skyhook. I want an extraction point ready when it is time to go." Xander nodded and went about his task.

Joseem walked up to Tsingtao. "R7 has patched into a terminal. He is trying to access the building systems but is locked out."

Horus approached the two Sith. "I have searched the area, no signs of our Clansmen. I beleive I found their escape route but not sure where they could have gone." the Battlemaster reported. Tsingtao nodded to Joseem.

"R7,I need you to get me access to the security cameras. Try and locate Bob, Ashura, and the others." the Zabrak order the astromech droid. A few seconds later the droid chirped a response. "He has found them. They are on the third level of this building."

All of a sudden, R7 yelled wildly as an electrical shock flowed throughout its frame. Joseem quickly went to his droid. "R7 seems to be fine. He was shut out of the system. Someone doesn't want us here." Joseem reported after checking on R7's condition.

"Someone or something. We must get to the others. Horus, lead the way."

Inos Moon 42
Tombs of Urias Orian

Everyone had split off in different directions, and the Huntress wasn't sure who to follow. Was she to go after Aleho and keep her master's other apprentice safe or go off and try to get more help for the others. Her head was starting to spin, like something was digging into her mind.

She suddenly lost her grip on her armory saber and it fell to the ground. Putting herself against one of the walls, she looked down at her hands. Either she wasn't seeing straight or she was fading away. How was this even possible? What was going on with her right now? She knew that she was there, had been since she'd been asked to go to the Tombs by Tsingtao.

But now what was happening? Looking towards where her saber was on the ground, she tried to reach for it only to stumble back against the wall and clutch her head. A sharp pain sped through it, as though something were pulling her away from where she was by her mind. This wasn't right, Kalei was feeling herself beginning to drift away. Had she been hit by something and was losing a grip on her life? She did not know, but soon felt her head hit against the rough ground beneath her.

Basai tried to reach out for her saber once more, which was now on the ground right next to her. This was unsuccessful as quickly her vision blurred and she felt nothing beneath her, as though she were floating towards somewhere.

Night Hawks HQ, Infirmary

Kalei quickly felt something under her and she snapped her head up, quickly becoming dizzy. She recognized where she was, she was back at the headquarters of her Battle Team. Had everything just been a dream? She looked at her arms and they looked solid. Someone came up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder. "You need to lay back down, Kalei. We don't know what happened to you, but you've somehow been injured. You were found in your room with your amory saber in your hand, you seemed to be extremely focused on something."

Looking back, she saw one of the infirmary workers. Letting out a slight sigh, she turned back and looked at her arms. All of the scratches and such that she had recieved in the tombs were on her arms. "What happened to me?" she asked quietly, trying to remember exactly what was going on. "You were getting ready to go out on the mission to the tombs, apparently they reported you left with them. How that is possible, we do not know, because you were in your room. The only reason we found you is because someone heard your saber ignite."

She was confused, but had read about something like this happening. "So nothing could wake me I take it?" The worker shook his head. "Did you by chance try to see how much activity was in my brain?"

The worker nodded, "It was almost off the charts for someone of your stature. We had to check how well versed in the Force you were before we finally decided on only one thing. You somehow were projecting yourself to the mission to the tombs. We did a double check with those we could contact down there, they said you were with a team that went into the tombs."

"I was there, I remember it. Then the group got split...that is when I think I started to lose my grip on what was happening there and ended up back here." The worker placed a hand on Kalei's shoulder again and laid her back down. "We will let them know what happened when we are able to contact them again. Stay here and rest, we are going to send you back to the main Marka Ragnos faciltiy when we are sure you are safe to be moved."

The Huntress laid herself back down and sighed. She could have sworn she was really in the tombs, it had all felt so real, including getting hurt. She had felt the pain of the injuries she had recieved as well. She knew she was going to have to research this more once she was well enough to do so.

((OOC: This was an idea from Malisane since I was a bit lost on where to have myself in this. So I'm no longer with the group in the tombs.))

Mitsuhide checked his messages and found that he could not receive access to the archives at the Sadow Palace without the authorization from either the Consul or the Proconsul. Apparently both of which were unavailable.

He looked behind him to see his ever present shadows, Dravunia and Zenovak. Nodding to both of them, he held up the drawing.

“Dig through all of these books and find ANY reference to this and bring it to me,” he said softly.

These two are perfect, Zalera. Think of the power they will give us... the constant visitor in his head told him.

“Quiet, Faram…we do not need to worry ourselves with what they will give us…only the results the two can bring.”

As you wish, old friend...

With that, the voice faded to the background and awaited its next opportunity to show itself. Leafing through the books he had gathered; he found few references all to a battle some years prior involving the Overlord and the Apostates.

There was something to these explosions that were still connected to these two, but Mitsuhide was hard pressed to find the reason. Both of the Apostates are declared deceased, and there is no other record of this organization elsewhere in the books.

Growling lightly, he slammed his fist into the table causing a shushing sound to come from the librarian. With a venomous glance, the Scholar got a muffled apology from the librarian and returned to the manuscripts before him.

Inos Moon 42
Tombs of Urias Orian
Necropolis Caves
Sanctum of Curwen Sunei


"Ha! Soon you two will join your supine friend there in death, woman" snickered Curwen Sunei as he gestured toward Jade and Aleho. He casually grasped the long golden metallic pole from where it leaned against the wall. The Adept held it before himself in one had, twin short red lightsaber blades springing from the shaft with sputtering hisses. "The Sword will be pleased."

Jade bared her wicked teeth fully. "You'll not find me to be easy prey, human." The Krath raised her searing lightsaber before her in concentration as she prepared to engage the old man. His power as an Elder was staggering, but so was her steely resolve. Aleho was unconscious on the table, and the Archpriestess intended to rescue her.

"Not so fast, old man," sneered a giggly voice from the shadows of the tunnel. A touch on Macron's arm inoculated him with synthetic orbalisk venom. The Sith stepped from the darkness, Ekeia and Zaroth by his side. The dim red light from Sunei's blade and the purple from Jade's lit the three figures dimly.

All three ignited their respective four blades, the multiple colors illuminating the cyst-like chamber with flickering light. "Ekeia, take care of Tsainetomo and look sharp. Get him on his feet as soon as you can. Zaroth, Jade, you're with me. We'll fight him together. Come at him from all sides, all at once. No mercy."

Dark Jedi did not fight fair. Macron and Zaroth circled wide, making the old man the central point of their circle with Jade completing the figure. Ekeia dragged Tsainetomo toward the hall entrance, drawing out a medpack and administering bacta and first aid. "Don't you dare die on me," she growled as she gave him CPR. "I need you on your feet! You're not allowed to die!"

Curwen peered closely at the group. His sense of the Force told him some, but such powers were somewhat deadened here in the bowels of the Dark Side site. An Elder he may be, but one trapped in an old man's body. All three of his standing foes had wielded actual lightsabers, that much was plain to see. He spoke up. "Feh. You think you can take me, younglings? I've fought in more battles than you have fingers." He held the pike with one hand, pointing his other claw-like fingers at Jade. Blue arcs of lightning shot from his fingers to torment her.

Jade caught the lightning on her plum-colored saber blade. She then screamed in rage, launching a furious Shii-cho assault by way of a rude reply.

Curwen frowned, using both hands on the crimson-bladed saberpike to deftly defend against the violet swatting blade. "Well trained I see," he commented. "This should be interesting." He held Jade at bay, twirling the pike impressively as he blocked her vicious swings.

Macron gestured toward Zaroth, two fingers pointed at the old man. "You have no idea. Get 'em," he howled. The Warlord shut one blade down for Trakata usage and left one on to defend with Makashi and Dun Moch.

Zaroth and Macron both leaped high in the air, each executing a flip as they landed around the battling pair. Two red blades slipped in to slice at Curwen, and an orange one snapped on and off quickly in a vicious stab that sputtered off the saberpike's phrikite pole. A deft stir of the saber pike swept Zaroth's blade aside, and the other end caught Macron's red saber to send it crashing against Jade's purple one.

Jade dropped low, slashing at the Adept's legs. Macron struck hugh, twin sabers slicing down in a fifth circle Form II technique, throwing 4 blows in rapid succession. Curwen leapt above the low slice, knocking aside Macron's attacks with quintuple twists of his pike.

At that instant, Zaroth threw his armory lightsaber with the aid of the Force as hard as he could at the Adept's mid-section. It buzzed forward with blinding speed, slashing at the old man's midsection as he narrowly dodged it.

"Argh," snarled the former Imperial Guard as his side smoked from a lightsaber burn. His intensified speed had avoided a fatal blow, but he was indignant that he had actually been mildly cut. He landed atop the table, legs astride the unconscious Aleho. He released a hand, sending a smashing wave of force energy spiraling forth that pummeled the three fighters.

Zaroth flew some feet back, sliding across the floor with a groan as he fell unconscious. Jade and Macron still stood, their own resistance and skills keeping them from being totally smashed. However, they still slid backwards several feet away from the Adept. Both had a few broken ribs. Each channeled the Dark Side to control the pain, combined with Jade's weird nature and Macron's drugs.

Jade and Macron both responded in tandem with telekinetic energy of their own, a specialty of Clan Naga Sadow. Jade's free hand clenched into a fist as she snarled, seeking to crush the Adept's brain within his head. Macron hurled his own wave of crushing force with every erg of extra energy the Dark Site could supply, dropping one lightsaber to palm something from his belt as he threw the blow.

Both Sadowites hissed with bloodlust as Master and Apprentice fought side by side against a common foe. The Adept deflected both attacks, but it cost him precious energy and time. Pinpricks of blood appeared on his face from some of the unseen debris he had missed.

"Wicked," giggled the mad Sith with a cough as he drew his fallen lightsaber back to his grasp. "But how long can that old body of yours hold up, hmm? Jade here is not quite human, and neither am I. Your power is great, but your body will give out before we do."

"I can still take you. Surely I wouldn't treat with the likes of you." Curwen's earlier summoning and binding rituals had left him with much less than his normal amount of energy, and he was trying to hide his concerns. An extended battle with other hardened force-users would not be the best idea.

"You certainly will," came a low rasp from the mouth of the chamber as Sai raised a hand. Ekeia looked on in concern, administering another injection as the Krath genius coughed. "And here is exactly why, my friend. You're going to need an antidote shortly for the Violator needles Macron just hit you with, courtesy of my idea. And if we don't come back, you'll have an army of Dark Jedi coming here to 'see' you, including some even more powerful that you. They won't be kind, that I promise. We've learned much since Palpatine's days..."

Sunei touched his face, feeling the tiny droplets of blood smear across his fingertips. He could feel something was wrong, but with the Archpriestess and Warlord facing him down, it would be difficult to concentrate on purging it. As well, the very nature of the place made healing such things more difficult. "What do you propose?" asked the old man haughtily as he considered the probabilities. He could sense the unlikely truth in the Krath's words.

Necropolis Caves
Sanctum of Curwen Sunei

The poison wormed its way through Sunei’s veins and he felt his body scream. It spread out from the epicentre of the eruption like rivers of fire. He gasped for air when the infected blood pumped into his lungs, feeling an explosion of raw agony in his chest. But he did not flinch. His will had broken once back when he had served the Emperor’s Shadow Guard; it would not break again. Death would be a welcome release from the nightmares . . . but he had no intention of dying here.

‘What do you propose?’ he said, well aware his death was fast approaching if he did not at least humour their wish to barter, much as he may have preferred to prise the antidote from their dead hands—or better yet, instruct one of their reanimated corpses to offer it to him freely. But the poison was spreading too quickly, and he had no way of knowing if either of them even had an antidote on them. Or if one even existed.

A phantom of flame flashed before his eyes, and an arc of pain unlike any he had felt surged through his frame, causing him to buckle to his knees. The Dark Jedi stared, but none of them moved; no doubt well enough aware that it might be another of his many tricks. The image flashed before his eyes, like an inverted crucifix; he felt as if he could not escape it. It burned in the back of his mind like a star; full of fire and wonder; but also death and despair. His mind recoiled, and he drew himself back to full height, the toxin’s venomous pain momentarily all but forgotten in the face of the far greater torture from the daggers now piercing his mind.

‘The Sword must be appeased,’ he hissed, spitting each word through clenched teeth as if it were a curse, and simultaneously fighting the pain of the toxin that had now reached his head. Only one thing sated the nightmares; only one thing made the dreams go away. Sunei reached into a pocket under his robes and withdrew a rusted dagger, the blade still coated in dry blood. The Sword demanded of him sacrifice, and sacrifice he would bestow; even if it meant his own.

The insane sorcerer ran the dagger across his own wrist and muttered in a language which had been old when the Republic was still young. He cackled and watched as the blood congealed into a greasy pink pustule that rapidly enlarged until it looked fit to burst. It did. A horror beyond horrors emerged; it was much like an infant, but dripping in blood, and with clawed fingers, hooked feet, and teeth as rabid as any dogs. Its mouth drooled pus, and exuded a stench that reeked of death and rotten flesh.

Sunei burst into laughter and backed away from the Dark Jedi. ‘Behold my homunculus!’

Necropolis Caves
Sanctum of Curwen Sunei

The old man’s laughter continued despite the poison running through his veins, a dry, raspy hitching noise, as he backed towards one of the cavern’s entrances. The Sadowan Force-users were taken aback by the slimy grotesquery that was birthed by the Adept’s ichor, freely spilt and malice-spawned.

It looked every bit an infantile version of the Sith Sorcerer, except for its feral features and steaming, bright red skin, moist and gleaming. Horrid mewls escaped its maw, and it writhed on the cold stone floor of the cavern. Zaroth, newly awakened, rose to his feet and stood next to Macron. He and Jade stared at the demon-spawn, faces filled with disgust, where Macron looked on in awe and wonderment. The Madman nudged Zaroth’s shoulder as if to say ’Go ahead; touch it.’, but Zaroth was having none of it. “Are you kidding?!” he asked. “I’m not getting anywhere near that thing!”

Tsainetomo was being helped to his feet by Ekeia, and the Son of Sadow leaned on her unsteadily as she ushered him to the other Sadowans; he pressed his palm against the ‘saber wound, his eyes grave and glinting in the glow of the cavern. “If you’re done, children, we’ve some unfinished business to attend to.” A cough racked the Archpriest’s frame, and Ekeia put a supporting hand on his chest. “Thank you; I’m fine.” Sai’s voice was reassuring. “Pardon me, sirrah?” Tsainetomo called out in a strong tone across the cavern to the fleeing wizard. “I believe there were some terms we have yet to come to an agreement on.”

“You’ve seen my terms, whelp!” The Adept screamed over his shoulder. “My majiks will purge your accursed poison from my form, and I’ll return, renewed in stren...” The old man’s tirade was lost as he ran into what seemed to be a brick wall. He tumbled end over end back into the cavern, spindly arms and legs akimbo, and was followed by a Zabrak.

“Ah, I see you’ve met my cousin, Shimura!” Sai said cheerfully as Macron’s face lit up. “Well done, my friend!” the Alchemist tittered as Shimura Keibatsu raised a hand in greeting.

“You gents are a hard bunch to find,” the Zabrak pronounced as he eyed the scene before him.

Meanwhile, the Adept rose to his feet, his robes dusty and torn from combat. He was about to launch into another tirade when again, the phantom flame lanced across his field of vision, inverted cruciform burning into his retinae.

The Sword demanded of him Sacrifice, and Sacrifice he would bestow...

The thought pierced his addled brain, born both of memory and admonishment, as if the Sword itself planted the statement in his mind.

Realization clouded his wizened features as he realized where he now stood: where he had birthed the Sith-demon. He whipped around, concern writ large on his face, but his alarms were raised moments too late; the homunculus had leapt from the floor in a blur onto the Adept’s back, its foot-talons finding purchase in the elderly flesh and the hand talons free to drag long, ragged furrows in the old man’s face, causing rivulets of blood to flow freely, staining his neck and robes. It screeched as it began to rip the old man to shreds.

The homunculus, created out of strife and eldritch majiks, had inherited all of the Adept’s insanity, ambition, and lust for power, was seeking to replace by way of consumption he who had created it.

The old man’s hands flailed about his neck and shoulders, instinctively trying to preserve his life, but the laugh his mouth issued was tinged with acceptance. “Yes! For the Sword! The Sword!” he exclaimed, laughing even as the pair fell to the floor, rolling around in a wash of tattered robes, dust, ribboned flesh and blood.

The Sadowan’s looked on, mouths agape in horror, except for Macron, who giggled, and Sai, who viewed the scene, expectation sharpening his gaze. He urged Ekeia to help him closer to the man and homunculus as events continued to play out.

The old man’s frame was spent, from physical exertion, prolonged Force-usage, and the Violator poison coursing through his system, so it was only a short matter of time before the demon-child gained the upper-hand. It now sat astride the old man’s chest, powerful claws descending again and again, ripping through cloth and flesh with equal ease. Finally, it bent close to the wizard, whose face and neck was a picture of ruined gore. The demon opened its ragged maw, and the wizard smiled (or, approximated one with what remained of his mouth) as the thing’s fetid breath washed over him.

Needle-like fangs punched into his neck, and the demon began to drink deep. The old man began to black out, feeling his life-force ebb away with every beat of his heart. The Abyss called...

...and Tsainetomo pulled him back.

“Now!” the Korun-Keibatsu roared, the weakness of his appearance belied by the strength of his voice. “Macron, Zaroth: the demon! Jade, Shimura: the old man!” At his command, Sai’s comrades wrapped the horrid pair in invisible bands of their collective will, separating the two and holding them aloft, side by side. “Ekeia, minister to the old one!” The Huntress left Sai’s side to apply a med-pack to the ragged wound in the wizard’s neck, staunching the blood’s flow.

Sai gamely limped towards the levitating old man, the wound in his side screaming at the effort. He leaned in close to the wizard, whose eyes blinked slowly as he teetered on the edge of consciousness. “Your name, old man. Tell me your name.”

The last shreds of resistance fell away as the man replied, his voice gurgling in his ragged throat. “Curwin....Curwin..Sunei...”

Tsainetomo smiled as he rose to his full height, his arms lifted towards the hovering pair and his fingers splayed. The words he spoke were old when the last to hear them before the Sadowites were ancient themselves; the air between the Son of Sadow, Sunei and the homunculus shimmered as the binding incantation was completed.

A horrid scream escaped the creature, and Curwin’s mouth, though silent, seem to mirror the sound in its shape. Then, the pair settled to the stone floor as the telekinetic hold was released, and Mac ambled up to his friend, who had taken to leaning back on Ekeia.

“Whoo, man! I knew you could fight, but now I learn not another, but two things: you can take a ‘saber to the gut, and you can do that weird, chanty-thing!”

By way of response, Sai tapped his temple and winked at Macron, mouthing the word ‘Krath’, then spoke again to the fallen Dark Adept.

“Curwin Sunei, you are hereby Bound, to that which you have spawned, and to me, who have bound you.”

Even in defeat, Curwin was defiant. “Why should I serve the likes of you?!” he spat through ruined lips.

“Firstly, it is not me whom you shall serve, but those who I represent. I have read on you, Sunei; if you thought Palpatine was bad, imagine no less than three like him; I assure you they are just as powerful and infinitely more patient.” Sai, of course, spoke of Astronicus and the two Grand Masters who now took up residence in his Clan. There was no need to divulge details at this juncture; besides, the Sadowan’s held the cards now.

“Secondly,” Sai continued, “we shall be taking that...thing you so haphazardly created with us. And thanks to the Force-binding I have executed, if you should so choose not to serve...” he let the rest trail off as he mouthed more words in the ancient language and clenched his fist. In response, the homunculus screeched in agony; Curwin moaned as well, feebly raising a bony arm in acquiescence. “Enough...what..would you have...of me?”

“It’s not what we’ll have, as that is already ours.” Tsainetomo gestured widely around the cavern, at the adgean vein. “No, Curwin Sunei, the question is what you’ll have of us.”

Curwin peered through blood-crusted eyelids at the Archpriest in disbelief. Silently he waited for Tsainetomo to continue.

“You enjoy your life, after having lived it for so long, I presume? You shall keep it. You relish your solitude, this much is obvious. You shall have it. I imagine you’ve been recompensed somewhat by that whom you call the ‘Sword’...you shall continue to have that luxury. You will find your new Masters are...merciful.”

He smiled as Curwin spat, blood and spittle intermingling in the dim red light. “I have no Master!”

“Benefactor, then. Call it what you will, Sunei; ‘a rose by any other name’, and all that. The circumstances, however, remain, do you not agree?” Sai’s smile faded as he quit the game of verbal chess.

“Further, you will use your influence over the traps and such to grant us safe passage out, and any envoy that returns shall be similarly unmolested. We will seek audience with you at indeterminate times, and you will be hospitable and forthcoming.”

If Sunei’s surprise was evident before, it had blossomed into full blown shock at this point. The man was a Force-whelp in comparison to his own experience and power, yet he had taken clear command of these ‘negotiations’. But even with his assumptive tone, he had still remained respectful. A curious thing, that. Palpatine would’ve had him killed on the spot, so it was clear to him that these intruders needed something more than the crystal threading the walls of the chamber. Still, there was the matter of the so-called cure for the vile poison in him.

As if reading his mind, Tsainetomo gestured to Macron, who stepped forward with a syringe. The alchemist jammed it into the man’s frail thigh, and he immediately felt a measure of relief as the liquid began to take effect.

“This is not a full cure, mind you. It’s only a ‘stop-gap’, if you will.” Macron said with delight. “You’ll need a booster every thirty Standard days or so, and that need, along with me taking care of your ‘baby’ there” – Mac pointed to the homunculus – “will ensure your sticking to the terms of these negotiations.”

“What if I don’t?” Sunei asked petulantly.

“Well, there’s always ‘Orbital Bombardment’,” Macron stated with bored finality. “As nice a find as this is, it’s not as if we were looking for this exactly. Finding ‘nothing’ is almost the same as finding ‘something’, I think, especially when that ‘something’ is ‘nothing’.” The Adept blinked at Macron’s circular logic as the Madman broke into gales of laughter.

“What my friend means is that our Masters don’t know about this place, and we can always say our expedition was fruitless. Your misspent life means nothing, in the grand scheme.” Shimura’s rough translation shook Curwin to his core.

A pregnant silence filled the cavern as the Sadowans awaited the Adept’s response.

“As you will.”

“Then, we have an accord. We’ll be in touch...there’s a conversation we’ve yet to have. Zaroth, Jade, collect young Aleho, if you will. Mac, you and my cousin have the pleasure of bringing up your new pet.” Tsainetomo issued a few more commands as the Adept was all but forgotten.

Once the necessary preparations were made and the adgean samples taken, the Sadowans stalked out of the chamber and Curwin Sunei was left to wallow in his defeat.

Moments passed before the Adept was physically strong enough to stir, but his mind was ablaze with thought.

His eyes continued to bore down the tunnel that the Force-users had used to leave. All in all, things could’ve gone much worse for him, he surmised. The Force-whelp was right in that his circumstances hadn’t changed; not really, anyway. If they kept their word, he’d live, albeit a bit dependently on the tattooed man’s concoction, and he would be free to continue his studies, just as he had before.

But first, the Healing. It would take a long time for him to be able to get around again. Curwin Sunei would persevere; he was Sith, and he was a survivor. He outlived Palpatine; he may just outlive the likes of those who’d just left him. And they had unwittingly given him more than they had probably wanted to. They had revealed that they, too, served someone. They had revealed that they came from afar, from a place that would probably be rife with secrets for him to take for his own.

They had no idea of what he'd done to their young female friend, or how him ministrations would come back to serve him in later days.

Most importantly, they had evidenced no contact with the Sword; not at least, to the intimacy that he had.

In response to his thoughts' touch, the image of the Sword flashed once more, burning his brain and blinding his normal sight.

In the red-tinged darkness, Curwin Sunei, Adept of the Dark Side, laughed.

Necropolis Caves


Jade had watched the battle unfold before her eyes and took no questions as to the orders and plans giving in the heat of the moment. She had been slightly relieved to have Macron and the others walk in on them, even more so that Ekeia could go to Sai’s aid, she would have had to go back to revive him, yet leaving Aleho alone for longer in the old mans grasp would have posed an issue.

She walked down the cavern holding Aleho, Macron trailing the odd beast along with them with some invisible force rope; she no doubt had some sort of torturous effect on the creature. It’s not like he would like the old man off that easy as they went. Her ribs screamed at her as her body worked to heal them in the burning fashion that it always does. She thought back to Sai, she was learning from him as he had promised, yet she knew this adventure, and what he had in store for not only her, but others, was far from being over, by a long shot.

“It’s about time we caught up with you mistress Jade, seems you like to be in the heart of the action.” Zaroth commented from her side and she smirked.

“Well you know me; I always have to be kicking someone’s ass.” She smiled the tips of her fangs showing. It had taken much energy along side Macron to fight the old man. “And good show in the fight, little Zaroth.” She grinned showing more of her sharpened fangs as her blood lust ran a little stronger, craving to replace the valuable energy it was taking to heal. She nearly laughed at the look on Zaorth’s face as she called him by her old nic name for him.

“Thanks…I think,” Was his response as he looked at Aleho in Jades arms. “Need any help?”

She shook her head; she had an oath to obtain. “No I can handle her.” She looked over at Macron, and concentrated as Sai had shown her to do so only he could hear her thoughts. “I think you should check her over, there is no telling how long he had her in his clasp, and what he did with her.”

Necropolis Caves

As the group of Dark Jedi approached the caves opening, Aleho began to regain consciousness. Her first instant thought had been the one she always had in moments like these: she wanted her mother. However she realised she was alone this universe, her mother had abandoned her, all there was were the allies she had made and the master who was training her. She felt cold... as if the warmth of youth had been robbed from her. Leho had enter the cave as a young girl aspiring to make her mark, but she left with the sense of understand that all life was a struggle, all she desired was to survive.

The little girl's mentality was gone, there was only a Dark Jedi now. She had lived a sheltered life in the Shadow Academy, and a protected on in her House and Clan. She wasnt ready for what the real world had to offer, she learned that during the feud. Now she had learned it was time to grow up. It was time to study harder, time to put away the toys and bodyguards. It was time to embrace the darkness liked she had done in the caves, to let it embrace her and change her. Yet their was something else she couldnt put her finger on. Then it dawned on her... the old man... he had called to her in her dreams. Who was he? Why was he calling to her?

The young Guardian moaned, a sense of awareness had come across her body. She felt as if something had been taken from her, something which she possessed before falling unconscious. It would be years before she realised it was her innocence. All she knew at this point, all she felt was as if she had been violated. Her young hands tightened around whoever was carrying her, her vision was far too blurred by the steams of tears coming from her eyes. Aleho didnt have the experience in dealing with this as the rest did. The transition she was going through was something all Dark Jedi experienced, hers was just too soon for someone of her age. Time would heal all wounds and in this case help her realise how her connection to the Dark Side had strengthened. Little did she know she would soon be ready for the nightmares, the creatures that stole her homeworld.

Somewhere below the Leisure District of Seng Karash

The smog throughout the hydroponic facility beneath the city was thick enough to choke his nostrils; so he had had to breathe through his mouth, which had only burned his throat instead. The droids in the Undercity seemed oblivious to his presence; clanging into him, and carrying on about their business without whistling an apology; or even a complaint to watch where he was going.

There was too much noise, much too much noise. He had glanced back toward the nightclub about a mile back, but the smog made it impossible to see so much as twenty feet in front, let alone a few thousand behind. Good, he thought. At least if he couldn’t see anyone chasing him, it meant they couldn’t see him. He’d taken an emergency elevator down to the basement and escaped via a little known exit into the hydroponics plant.

The side of his face still stung from where the bomb had exploded right by him. He put a hand up but flinched away again the instant his fingers touched raw flesh. Why had he been right by the bomb? He couldn’t remember. He couldn’t even remember why he was running away. Who was he running from again? Or had he actually followed someone else down there and given chase? But if so, who was he chasing again?

He thought he was losing his mind. Images flashed before his sight, but it felt more like he was watching memories of someone else. He saw his hands connecting two red and blue wires together; close a hatch; tap in an activation code; could remember the feel of the detonator trigger inside his pocket; and the heat when he finally pressed the button.

Had he really done it? Was he the bomber?

He didn’t know. He wasn’t even sure of his name anymore. Was he who still he thought he was? Was any of this even real, or was it just a dream? Or rather: a nightmare? A burning image flashed before his eyes, and he doubled over in pain and collapsed to the floor; having to reach out to stop himself buckling over face first. His eyes tightened, and he tried to push the image away. He screamed when the aging scar on his forehead, shaped like a third eye, tore open anew and blood ran down his face. He had forgotten what it felt like; the pain each time the scars opened afresh; the torture each time the cuts refused to heal. It had not done so in months. He had thought it never would do so again.

He remembered a dimly lit bar; somewhere in San Korinar, maybe. There had been a man; he’d remembered purchasing components; taking them back to the flat in Seng Karash he’d rented; assembling them into a device: the device he had ultimately taken to Dystopia in an assassination attempt on the new consul. His new consul. A man he respected. He could not understand what would possibly have led him to make an attempt on his life.

He heard a droid roll past and gasped when its tracks bumbled over his hand, but did not recoil. The pain was trivial next to the thoughts impaling his mind like knives. He did his best to steady his breathing; deep and slow: in, out, in, out: repeat. The burning nightmare in his mind receded and he felt his own memories come back. He still wasn’t sure whether he had actually done what he had just seen in his head, or if the nameless nightmares were instead of someone else. He knew it didn’t matter. He had pressed the trigger—his fingers ran across his cheek making him wince—he knew he had pressed the trigger. The rest no longer mattered.

He reached up for a nearby pipe that served as a nutrient feed and pulled himself to his feet. He could see his reflection in the glass pipe. The left side of his face was seared bare to the bone in places, and his forehead down his eyes to the nose was dripping in fresh blood from where the scars had opened again. He ignored the pain to rub his face clean—or as well as he could—with the cuff of his traveller’s cloak. No doubt they would all be wondering where he was. Or if he was dead. He could easily spin them a story about being caught in the blast. He had been, after all. But they could never know the truth. Even he wasn’t sure of the truth.

He took another deep breath and started toward the nearest turbolift back up to the main city. Back to the Skyhook, then a long, hot bath. He could worry about the nightmares later. But tomorrow he would get to the bottom of it. Surely somewhere in all the dusty old tomes of the Simus Institute would be the answers he was looking for?

OOC: This is to introduce a character who I plan to expand on in the future and may use for the GJW run-on, given my own character is like, you know, dead.

Sadow Palace
Sepros

Lori Filran sat at the small cafe' in the medical wing of the Palace. She was tired, yet her blond hair was only slightly disheveled and her smooth human skin gleamed with radiant youth. So much was going on so fast that she was relieved to have just a few moments to herself and a cup of caf.

People hustled about carrying folders, notes, datapads and briefcases as the background was coated in echoes of the news being displayed on various data screens. the current happenings of the Orian system had spread fast and yet nothing was still known as to what exactly was going on. She felt uneasy and wondered at her role if any she had played in the recent hours.

Her thoughts were interrupted when she noticed a handsome looking man wearing a D-SOG uniform with a Commander's rank giving a more than noticeable glance from across the room. She smiled at him turning her head slightly sending a nonverbal hint of invitation. The officer smirked from behind his own cup of caf before standing and making his way over. Her message had been well received.

"Lot's of excitement going on today." He spoke with a clear and even voice, a strong tenor, and commanding attention.

Lori had to catch herself. "I'm sorry what?" she immediately felt like a fool.

"You know, everything that's going on. Some say its another attack." He said.

"Oh right... yes, lots of excitement." She was completely captivated. She felt like she was swimming in a warm ocean as her heart began to pound against her chest in the presence of this man.

"Do you mind if I join you?" He asked with his intoxicating voice.

"Oh yes, please!" She kicked herself mentally. She sounded desperate as if she hadn't had a date in years.

The officer smiled as he took his seat across from Lori. She fidgeted slightly uncomfortable but pleasantly so. With a only slight persuasive nudge they were sharing drinks that were a bit stronger than caf. The conversation was lively and Lori felt herself becoming more flush and much more comfortable with her new friend. They began sharing stories and jokes and the more than occasional suggestive hint. By her third drink Lori felt as if she had known this man her entire life and as if on cue he got up and asked,

"You want to get out of here?"

Lori's heart skipped a beat."Yeah we can go to my place, its not far." She kicked herself mentally again. Not only did she sound desperate but now she sounded easy. Things were already in motion and all in all she didn't really mind. In fact things seem to be going rather well and it just felt natural.

Five minutes later they were barely in her door way when they were locked in a tight embrace with their lips pressed hungrily together. Lori's breath was heavy and quick as she began grouping at the buttons at her guest's uniform when she realized she didn't even know his name.
Her head was swimming in an ocean of lust, desire, and carnal need. She had never been so wrapped up in someone and she was putty in his hands...more than she knew.

Then he spoke. "Tell me what you know about a certain pregnancy." His voice cool, even, and intoxicating. She was left with no choice but to respond.

"Only pregnancy I know of, was the one with Sakura Haruno...she's Mr. Dlarit's mistress. The baby was definetly his." An odd inner voice seemed to tug at the back of her mind whispering that this line of questioning was a bit strange, but this man's touch found only the right places and the inner voice was soon silenced.

"How very interesting. Who else knows?" He spoke again as his hands slowly removed what was left of her top.

"I have someone who pays me for bits of information...concerning Mr. Dlarit. I told her." She responded her voice in a sort of dreamy intoxicated tone.

"Who is she this person who pays you?" His hands moved along her heaving chest and up to her neck as his fingers brushed her throat.

"I do not know her name, or what she looks like. Everything is handled over the cortex on a secured line. I send her encoded messages and she wires credits into my account." Her voice was now as if she were a droid explaining a maintenance procedure. She could hear herself and feel herself but she could not control herself. At this point however it did not matter she was melting in pleasure.

"Where are the messages sent?" he asked.

"I am not exactly sure...Seng Karash. Entertainment district somewhere." she responded.

"How are the messages sent?" His hands moved over her cheeks and down the side of her neck.

Lori lifted her hand and pointed to her nightstand by the bed. "Encoded portable data terminal...password is...Alpha Alpha 219 Coup de Grace."

She smiled at his beautiful eyes and she felt a small twitch in his hands and short burst of pain run through her spine down to her feet and then she felt nothing.

Zaxen let the girl fall to the edge of the bed and he laid her carefully on her back. The look of serenity still captured on her motionless face. He took a pouch from his back pocket, opened it and produced several empty vials which still had the residue of a locally produced spice based narcotic. He moved quickly to remove any evidence of his presence and took the girl's encoded data pad with him as he left quietly.

In just glancing over the information in the datapad Zaxen quickly realized just how perilous the situation had become.
He tapped his comlink's secure channel and moments later the voice of the overlord came back. "Report."

"I have located a critical security leak and ..disposed of it. However, the damage has been done. Your heir is not safe. The inside person has passed detailed information about Sakura, and her movements for the past several months as well as certain higher level troop movements from her various medical duties and work with Dr. Villo. She has also passed a fair amount of our information on our clones and their production."

Silence hang in the air for a moment. Zaxen continued at a brisk pace back towards the Hall of the Black Guard and entered just as The Overlord replied. "Well done Zaxen. Track this link to its source and destroy it. "
"It will be done." Zaxen quickly replied and closed the link. He quickly changed into a set of tactical gear that could pass for everyday clothing in Seng Karash, packed his black guardsman armor and special equipment in a duffel bag and made his way quickly to the Palace shuttle bay.

But all was not as it should be...

Dystopia
Level 3
Seng Karash

“We’re going to be overwhelmed,” Ashura reported, pushing more furniture against the shaking doors with the force, “there has to be another way out of here.”
“There isn’t,” Malisane replied “just the door and the window unless you want to go back up through the ceiling.”
“Then think of something!” the Pro Consul snapped back.
Malisane nodded. Like the other Battlelord he estimated they had a few minutes left before the droids on the other side broke into the bar, then despite the skills of the three Sith and the DAC they would be eventually slain by the superior droid forces. “There is one thing,” Malisane replied, “though it’s drastic.”
“Whatever it is do it,” Ashura replied.
“Give me your communicator,” Malisane said holding out his hand, “I need to reach Marakith.”
“I’ve tried, for the last ten minutes something’s been jamming the signal.”
Malisane took it off him and flipped open the back. “I can send a simple burst code transmission,” he replied fiddling inside the communicator.
“And they can translate that?” Ashura asked.
“The computers can, I can send them an instruction.”
“Don’t you need the access codes?” Ashura asked.
Malisane shook his head. “I can get past those, I designed them.”
Ashura raised an eyebrow. “We need to discuss that sometime.”
“Not now,” Malisane replied. “There, it’s sent.”

Marakith
Auxillary Command
Seng Karash

Lieutenant Hormek entered the room, depositing a steaming cup on the table next to the console, before sipping his own. “Anything to report Corporal?”
The corporal shook his head as he picked up his coffee. “Nothing new,” he replied, “we’re still monitoring the Leisure district for further distress calls but its gone quiet.”
Hormek shrugged. “Sure if anything is going on the local police can handle it.”
Corporal Alaris suddenly sat up in his console began to flash. “Sir, problem with the computer!”, he said urgently, “some sort of incoming transmission sending instructions to the mainframe.”
“Source?” Hormek asked as he leaned over.
“Unknown,” the corporal replied tapped away at the keys, “the defence system is coming online, it’s being fed strike co-ordinates.”
“Override them!” Hormet ordered.
“I can’t,” Alaris replied in frustration.

People in the streets below looked up in horror as the ion blast hit the tower, electricity surging down the black glass surface of Dystopia, and a loud hum filled the air as the invisible forcefield flicked and died. Inside the three Sith lay on the floor as electrical equipment exploded showers of sparks around them. “What the hell have you done?” Bob shouted.
“I’m saving our lives,” Malisane replied coldly when the noise died down. The room was in pitch darkness, a deathly quiet surrounding them.
“You hope,” Ashura said getting to his feet. He flicked the button on his lightsaber, then lowered it as nothing happened. “If that didn’t work we’re defenceless.”
“Source for the goose,” Malisane replied mysteriously, “I’d be surprised if those droids survived. Anyway we still have the force.”
“Let’s get out of here,” Bob said ripping aside the furniture around the door, “I want to know who’s behind this.”

Two days later . . .

Temple of Sorrow, Sadow Palace
Sepros, Orian III, Orian System

The Lord Sadow lounged back in his high backed throne and let out a loud sigh. The investigators had scoured every inch of Dystopia but had turned up no new leads. De Ath was of little use, either; even if he had helped end the fighting by disabling the duelling droids with the ionic discharge from Marakith.

All they had to go on were the crude sword motifs that had been found carved into the shrapnel from some of the explosives. And that lead had turned up nothing.

‘Is there anything good to report?’ Sadow said.

Ashura waved his fingers through several gestures in the air, causing the holo-emitter in the center of the room to bring up a report about Inos. The proconsul was filling in for the lord consul, who had fallen ill; Tron sensed there was more to it than Daragon was telling him, however.

‘Brother Goura reports the expedition to the tombs of Orian turned up more than they expected. A hermit—someone called Curwen Sunei,’ Ashura said finally.

‘I presume they dealt with this . . . hermit?’

Ashura scanned the report. ‘No . . . apparently they reached a ‘mutual agreement’. There is a memo attached to the report from Brother Goura requesting your permission for further study.’

Tron took in a deep breath, then exhaled it in a long sigh. Sometimes he felt Macron dug around deeper than he should, but it did no real harm. The boy appeared to have learnt his lesson since his folly as the Betrayer's apprentice. ‘Tell my Son to proceed as he sees best.’

‘As you will, my lord,’ Ashura said. The proconsul glanced down his itinerary. ‘Ah, yes. Lords Paladin and Firefox inform me the Council is pleased with our progress, and General Keibatsu informs me the fleet should be war ready within a couple of months.’

‘Ah, good, good,’ Tron replied. The word on what remained of the HoloNet was the Imperial and Republic remnants had the Vong on the retreat in the Core; rumour had it the war may finally be over soon. He shouldn’t have known—not that it was hard to guess—but his master, Yoni, had already told him what the Council was planning.

Antei. It was at last time to go back.

The Far Outsiders had made a mockery of them all for too long. How many years had it been? Four? Five? Tron had practically lost count. It had felt as if it would never end. But Lords Sarin and Ashen apparently had a plan; not that even Master Yoni would disclose the closely guarded intricacies of that.

The Battles of Lehon and Inos had cost them a lot of ships in the past year. But if Shin’ichi said the Dlarit Navy would be ready within the month, it would be ready within the month.

Maybe finally they could all move on; after five years of loss, defeat, and betrayal . . .

‘Oh, the doctors tell me Sakura is doing well.’

Ah, Sakura. At least there was some good news in spite of recent events. He could at least take comfort that the continuation of the Sadow bloodline would be assured in but a few months more.

His lips almost rose into a smile.

Almost.

Ashura collected up his things and shut off the holo-emitter. ‘One last thing, if I may?’

‘Proceed.’

Ashura’s eyes drifted around the room for a moment before he continued, ‘There is a report from Brother Keibatsu that the inmates at Cenota have been experiencing shared recurrent nightmares.’

Tron almost asked why he should care, but left Ashura to continue.

‘My lord,’ Ashura said, pausing for the faintest slither of a moment, ‘the nightmare appears to share similarities with the utterances of Curwen Sunei recorded in Brother Goura’s report.’

Tron’s eyes widened. ‘Similarities?’

‘I would not want to presume, but—’

‘No,’ Tron said, cutting Ashura off. ‘Presume all you want, Brother Isradia. My Clan has lived in blind darkness for too many years. Carry on.’

‘It is possible it is a . . . a vision, my lord,’ Ashura said, very slowly. ‘They all seem to be experiencing the same recurring dreams of a—how shall I put this—a burning sword.’

Tron narrowed his eyes. ‘A sword?’

Ashura shrugged his shoulders. ‘That is all I can piece together.’

Tron closed his eyes and reached out. He heard nothing. If this ‘sword’ was out there, somewhere, then it was invisible to him. He opened his eyes again. He could ignore it . . . but after the bombings . . .

‘Have you told anyone else about this?’

Ashura shook his head. ‘No, my lord.’

‘Good,’ Tron said. ‘For now, it may be best if we keep this between ourselves. Individually, Brother Goura and Brother Keibatsu may not be aware of the link themselves.’ The Overlord paused and pressed his lips together as he reflected on a memory from the year before. ‘Knowledge is dangerous, Brother Isradia. Whatever this . . . vision may or may not be, it is best denied the strength it seeks.’

Ashura frowned but nodded his head. ‘Understood, my lord. Will that be all?’

‘Yes, I believe that will do for now, Brother Isradia.’ Tron closed his eyes and allowed his mind to drift as Ashura left the room. ‘Tell the Lord Consul I look forward to hearing his report next week.’

Elsewhere on Sepros at the Simus Institute

The scar on his forehead burned where it had bled only days before. He had tried to explain it when he got to Marakith, but the guards had thought he was crazy. So, he’d shot them. Disposing of the bodies hadn’t been hard; it wasn’t like anyone would miss a couple of Dlarit Police troopers.

At least, not with how many had been going missing lately. The war had been dragging on too long, and with supplies running low, and too many refugees, crime on the streets had started to skyrocket. He didn’t think it’d be long before there’d be martial law, but the Sadows seemed to have more pressing concerns at present. Not that they’d let a meagre knight like him in on the workings of the inner circle.

It was strange, though. He could hardly remember where he had been. There had been a celebration at Dystopia, no? A party? But it had been interrupted by something . . . an attack?

They had been attacked?

No, that couldn’t be right. But—

He looked up at his reflection in the transparisteel window. His eyes were strangely dark, like the light had been sucked out of them. Black. Even the scar on his forehead looked darker than he remembered it. And was his skin going pale? They said the dark side could do this to people. But after only a few years?

His eyes were not his main concern, however. One side of his face was completely deformed, the skin almost completely burnt down to the bone in places. He felt like some kind of cliché holothriller villain.

Now he remembered. There had been a bombing. He had run off after the bomber in the Undercity.

Maybe the bomber had killed the police troopers? Yes, that made far more sense. He wouldn’t have done that. Why would a Krath priest have wanted to kill a police trooper?

‘Yes,’ he said, speaking to his own reflection. ‘The bomber killed them. That must be it.’

He’d probably banged his head or something. Or maybe they’d mind tricked him? That might explain his loss of memory. He’d felt disoriented ever since he’d gotten off the shuttle in the Institute’s hangar.

The book in front of him—more a massive tome really, ancient and dusty—was open on a large double spread page about insanity and Force visions. He remembered there was something he was meant to do, something he was meant to learn to prevent, but he couldn't quite remember what.

His forehead started to itch, and he reached up and rubbed it where the fresh scab shaped rather like a third eye was located. He flinched when he touched the Mark.

‘Ouch!’

One of the initiates nearby snapped at him to keep quiet.

Did apprentices these days have no respect? Couldn’t the boy see the lightsaber hanging on his belt?

He looked down at his hand and noticed his fingers had now put blood all over the page. He touched his forehead again and realised: it was bleeding again.

When he looked back at the page again the blood seemed to have vanished. The book was no longer on Force visions—maybe the page had blown over?—instead it was now on what looked like a drawing of a black star. Could stars be black, he wondered? They said Antei was home to a Dark Star, but he had never been there—he’d been discovered after the planet had been lost to the Vong. He still wasn’t sure on the whole idea of a Dark Star and put a lot of it down to artistic licence.

But the Dark Star on the page in front of him, it looked real. More than real: almost . . . alive.

He suddenly felt as if someone was trying to drive a dagger into his forehead, and when he next glanced at the page he saw it swirling, the Dark Star swelling up . . . like a pool of black blood . . . threatening to swallow him . . .

Then he passed out.

ooc: since I started this runon....



THE END