Of The Past Run-on

Rules for the Run-on

Thanks to Rekio for pointing out the Rebel Squadrons’ run-on rules, from which many of these are borrowed. Remember everyone, always give credit where credit is due.

Why these rules? Simply put, run-ons have a way of getting out of hand in a variety of ways. We end getting a bad story, which just discourages the entire clan. We have written good and great run-ons in the past and the members have thoroughly enjoyed it.

General (for all run-ons)

1. You might be a Dark Jedi. You might even have your lightsaber. But you are not a god (or goddess). Even Elders are not gods, but they can certainly do a whole lot more than any Equite or Journeyman. In short, godmoding is strictly prohibited and can result in your post being deleted or even death (see rule#2).

2. You are mortal. Death is a viable option for your character. Yeah, you’ve got the Force, but that didn’t really help Qui-Gonn, Darth Maul, Obi-wan, Palpatine, Order 66 casualties, or any other Force user who met an early end, now did it? You put yourself in a hole and you might just end up staying there.

3. Stick to the setting and scenes. As expansive as the Star Wars galaxy is, we’re not running/flying around all over it (unless the story calls for it).

4. Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. Yes, the Golden Rule applies here as well. Respect other characters and don’t write them doing something stupid or terribly out of character. Consult the wiki, their character history, or better yet, the member themselves.

5. Following rule #4, never kill another member character without their permission. In the event of serious injury, let the other member character either tell you what to do, or let them write it themselves.

6. What happens in this run-on is permanent for your character. Whether you lose an arm, adopt a herd of banthas, or anything in between, you’re stuck with it and must deal with it.

7. The unit is the character in this story and you are a part of the unit. Aim for continuity in the story; get advice from others on where to take your post.

8. Avoid excessive details where you can. The paint job on your own personal ship (that you somehow have) is not a valid subject for the run-on.

9. Once your post is made, do not go back and edit anything except for grammar and spelling. Otherwise, you stand a good chance of screwing the story up. It also helps to proof read your post before you post it.

10. Finally, posts that excessively detract from the storyline or contain large amounts of godmoding will be marked for deletion and ignored. It is not our goal or desire to keep anyone off the playground, but we will if we must.

Specific (for this run-on)

1. Everyone is, at the start of this run-on, on board the Doomsday. Even if you didn’t participate in the first part of the trilogy, or even if you weren’t part of the clan at the time, just assume that you were there. Now you’re on the Doomsday.

2. Your character’s rank and such going into the competition are considered to be your starting point. Dock is a great example: he was a Jedi Hunter during the last competition, but is now a Dark Jedi Knight. He will be referred to and treated as such.

3. Pay careful attention to explanations. There’s a lot of stuff that is going to be tied into this run-on so we can wrap up some loose ends. These will all be thoroughly explained.

4. Posts should be of decent length and work towards moving the overall story forward. Only posts that are roughly ¾ of a page (around 500 words) in MS Word (or equivalent program) will be counted towards judging. You must make at least 3 posts of sufficient length to be considered for placement. Anything else will only get you participation credit.

5. You may call the next post. Once this is done, you only have three (3) hours to get your post up. After that, your call can be ignored by others. Do not stack called posts; only one at a time.

6. There should be at least one person between your own posts, though two or more is highly preferred.

Even as Oberst’s orders to prepare the shuttles were being carried out, the clan leadership held an impromptu meeting just off the bridge. “Before the whole clan goes over, I think a small group should go first,” said Oberst. “We can then signal them to come over.”

“True,” said Anshar. “Besides, there’s something strange about this vessel-”

“You mean asides from the fact that it was destroyed,” said Oberst.

“That, but also that it just suddenly appeared in front of us,” continued Anshar. “I trust the ship never had a cloaking device.” Oberst shook his head. “I’d rather not sit out here too long. It is only a matter of time before our friends on Prakith figure out we weren’t what we said we were, and we’re still well in Republic territory, and the general war zone. All it would take is someone, anyone coming across us, and we’d be in trouble. We need to inspect the ship fast, and see if there’s anything of use. Actually, I’d like to see if we can take the whole thing.”

“That’s a bit grandiose,” commented Armus. “Look, why don’t any volunteers go over with you. Take more than one shuttle if you must, but only Oberst’s shuttle will dock at first. If it proves to be secure, then let the others land and then search the ship.” Anshar and Oberst nodded.

“There’s still one other problem,” said Dranik. “Anshar, you said you sensed something alive over there. I tried, but I can’t sense anything. And judging by the reactions of the others, I’d say you’re the only one who senses anything.”

“I don’t know what it is,” said Anshar, “or why I might be the only one right now. But I’m certain there’s something over there. For now, it’s just another part of the mystery. We’ll just go prepared for anything.”

* * *

“Flight One, you are cleared for launch,” said the flight controller.

“Flight One, this is Armus. We will monitor your approach. At any sign of danger, we will open fire.”

“Copy,” came the terse reply. Armus watched the two ships as they appeared from the hangar. All communication attempts had failed, and even a light blast from a turbolaser had failed to elicit a response from the derelict vessel. However the ship had managed to suddenly appear in front of them obviously had no effect on its ability to interact with the Doomsday.

The clan members willing to help search the derelict MC80 had all boarded a respective craft. Oberst, Anshar, Dranik, Rekio, and Bloodfyre had taken the Lambda shuttle Capricorn. The rest of the volunteers took the Gamma-class ATR-6 Assault Transport Incarnate One.

* * *
Life’s silent footsteps echoed through the empty ship. Others were near now, and with them came the long sought answers. At least, that was the hope. Between the current home and the possible hope swirled a storm of anger, hatred, and malice. Yet the storm ignored the life within it, focusing only on the possible hope that now appeared before it. For that was its true target all along. The life remained within the shadows, ignored as it had been for ages.

Aboard the Incarnate One, Ronovi was feeling irritable. Strapped into her chair, she stared out into the open space as the transport hurtled toward the rogue ship, her shoulders tense and her jaw set. To her left, she could see Dralin calmly staring ahead, his fingers drumming against the arm of his chair. To her right, she saw other recognizable faces, including Kazarelth Talismarr, but most of her comrades' faces were either void of emotion or set with furrowed brows as if they were concentrating on the ship ahead of them.

It had already been bad enough on Prakith; breaking through automated defense systems and facing off isolated Imperial soldiers had not been her idea of fun. True, she had emerged victorious, but the idea of getting no relaxation irked her; even aboard the Doomsday, she’d been constantly moving around despite the fact that she was still recovering from previous injuries. It also didn’t help that she had been worn down thoroughly from the strike and yet lacked the ability to garner enough sleep. Her muscles were knotted up, and her eyes felt heavy in their sockets as she scanned the other volunteers around her. Not her idea of a joyride.

But then again, it was not in the way of the Dark Jedi to rest. Besides, Ronovi thought to herself, this could be something different for a change. It wasn’t often that the Guardian imagined exploring the depths of a ship that held no detectable clues of life or inhabitants – at least, not detectable to her already feeble Force senses. She had, however, come prepared, having placed her lightsaber and two suitable blasters under her robes; the latter she had simply thrown over her wrecked Imperial uniform before boarding the transport.

Her train of thought was derailed, however, when she heard the pilot’s voice crackle from the control room. Ronovi sat upright as she heard the pilot say, “Approaching the ship. We got a visual.”

Then she heard Dralin ask, “Excited?” as she reclined back in her seat. She blankly stared at the Jedi Hunter and wished that she could wipe the simmering smirk off his face.

“As much as I can be, I guess,” she said.

Dralin snorted. “Well, don’t be. This isn’t a play date, Tavisaen.”

Ronovi gritted her teeth as she ignored the comment. Dralin still liked to push her buttons, regardless of how much she tried to prove herself. She felt the transport turn slightly to the left as it positioned itself firmly in a straight direction toward the ship. Yet as they drew closer to the vessel, even Ronovi could feel a sort of unnatural pull as if the gravity in the ship had become a little too strong. She calmly placed her right hand into her robes and felt the cold touch of a blaster handle. That always relaxed her.

She heard the pilot say, “Visual is becoming sharper. All clear,” before her mind settled once more. All she wanted now was complete focus by the time the Incarnate One landed.

“Standing by. All eyes on the Capricorn.” The pilot said as the engine of the shuttle hummed down. Ronovi's irritation ploughed its way to new heights as she realised that the Incarnate One would not land before the all-clear from the Capricorn. The Epicanthix tried to extend her Force feelers once again towards the derelict ship half-heartedly. The feeble vines barely reached out of the shuttle itself. She sighed, and heard a soft chuckle to her right. Kazarelth was playing with his lightsaber and evidently had felt Tavisaen’s paltry attempt. Before she could say anything, he strode up to the cockpit to get a good view of the Capricorn.

--

The Lambda-class moved effortlessly towards the metal behemoth, floating listlessly across space. Guided by the Marshal’s memory, the Capricorn hovered above the docking station of the MC80. A little nudge from the Force and the doors opened smoothly, letting the Capricorn in.
Oberst walked out first, letting the memories swarm around him. He knew this ship intimately, serving under the Infiltrator Wing. Moreover, his first step seemed to break a spell of sorts. The Elders could not help noticing the sudden flurry of invisible activity inside the ship akin to disturbed dust on a carpet. Oberst, especially, felt a whisper of his former atrocities committed within it. A grim and shadowed slideshow of the terrible and sadistic activities rushed past his eyes within a fraction of a second. The Adept smiled, for many of those actions were most satisfying.

“There is a presence here.” Dranik agreed, finally.
“More than one, actually.” Anshar said. The Consul’s mind peered through the expansive rooms of the vessel as he continued, “And they all have but one name branded upon their remnant, hostile and vengeful essences.”
The answer was not necessary; everybody knew who it was. Yet Oberst thought it necessary as he trudged past a door, and said “mine.”

--

The general aura of tension blurred and diffused as one on the Incarnate One. So much so that just walking into the area oppressed the senses of a Force-sensitive. Kazarelth felt a much-less nauseating atmosphere in the cockpit, yet the tension was apparent amongst the pilots. The MC80 hung in front of the transport like a sword of doom. Moreover, the crew had not received a word from the Capricorn since its entry.
He fiddled around with the orb his team had retrieved on Prakith. The violent spirit inside it that spread a bizarre chill only for the Omwati had been subdued, yet it had not surrendered.
The item felt strangely lighter than when Sith pressed it upon his hands and asked him to get “accustomed to it.” However, it still felt equally cold and brittle, as if the spirit chained inside had other means of escape. It was unnatural, the orb. The storm raging inside was quite unlike how a ‘normal’ Receptacle looked. The swirling mist inside it emitted pulses of Force-energy intermittently like a pulsar, and each had the warning of potential destruction enclosed within it. With Bloodfyre’s help, the orb had been brought to Kazarelth’s control, but he felt uncertain, and put it back into his cloak. He could feel a tingle in the Force as he anticipated the adventure ahead.

That recycled air was familiar. It had that quality to it of an old, moldy cellar that someone put an air freshener in. It carried that same weight, that same slightly cloying edge. The chemical scrubbers left their own mark in trying to make breathable atmosphere. Some idiot tech centuries ago decided that artificial flowers or other scents should be mixed into the scrubbers to make things more pleasant and the trick had stuck.

Oberst took the time to survey his surroundings, a second shuttle and a Y-Wing were the only other craft on the flight deck. The deck itself was spotless. Even during inspections, the crew could never get out all the stains from the general maintenance and work done in here. When underway, the mechanics cordoned off half the flight deck to work on the fighters, shuttles and other craft, since the vehicle storage bays were usually packed tight and didn’t allow for as much maneuvering.

His hands twitched as something lay outside the periphery of his senses. Something or somethings were there, but he couldn’t get a definitive hold on them. Undoing the flap on his holster, he walked towards one of the crew stations. Keying in a series of characters he looked up at the others, “All stations are reporting normal. I can’t seem to get into the communications relay.” Oberst scowled, “I should be able to access any file from any part of the ship. I just keyed in my senior clearance as Infiltrator Wing Commander.”

Bloodfyre’s hooded head turned at this, “I thought the Bismarck was your command ship?”

“It was,” Oberst scowled, “some of the senior IWCOMs had clearance hardwired into every ship. It would have included every ship even in the mothball fleet.”

“Like the Renegade?”

“Yes, but I shouldn’t have been one of them.”

Anshar and Bloodfyre stalked over to the station as Anshar asked, “Crew records?”

“There are listings for junior staff, no senior staff listed,” Oberst began. “Wait. Lt. Commander Stevenson is listed as aboard.”

“And he is…,” Bloodfyre trailed off impatiently.

“Senior aide. He was on the personal staff of every Commander up through me,” Oberst stated, “He usually served as our eyes and ears aboard the Renegade.”

Rekio coughed, “Is he dead?”

“I don’t know,” Oberst replied, “I’m listing you as second officer, Mr. Corsair. See if you can’t bring up the Doomsday.” Oberst started for the shuttle.

“Where are you going?”

“I don’t think a pistol is enough.”

As Rekio took over the comm station and began communication efforts, Anshar turned his attention to the awaiting assault transport. Without a doubt, the Tarenti who had volunteered to come over were growing impatient. It was only natural, especially in an unfamiliar situation. Rekio cursed at the communication network and continued to fight with it. Even Oberst’s edits to the command list had not solved all the trouble.

Suddenly, Anshar had the distinct feeling that he was being watched. He turned around and saw nothing, but his attuned senses picked up on something. It was like nothing he had ever encountered. Intertwined within all the hatred and anger was a single strand without any emotion attached to it. Yet, it still could be sensed like an emotion.

“Finally,” hissed Rekio. “We’ve got a link with the Doomsday. I had to utilize emergency communication routines to do it, but it’ll work.” Anshar’s attention snapped back to the present.

“Wouldn’t that start broadcasting a distress call?”

“Normally,” replied Rekio. “But someone disabled that feature long before we got here. I went to turn it off myself and found that I didn’t need to. In fact, the whole sub-routine has been removed from the system.”

“The ship appears to be in good shape,” offered Bloodfyre. “Atmosphere is holding throughout the ship and there are at least emergency lights on, if not full lights. I’d say we could explore except . . .” He didn’t need to finish the sentence. Everyone present knew what the “except” was, and with Oberst having gone back to the shuttle to get something other than a pistol, something was definitely amiss.

“We’ll have to take the risk,” said Anshar. “Rekio, can you raise the transport and have the pilot put me on speaker?” Rekio nodded and signaled Anshar when it was ready. “Alright everyone, listen up. I know most of you have already picked up on the hatred and anger that permeate this ship. It is strong enough for you to sense it out there, and it gets worse when you get on board. But, I want this ship searched. There is someone or something alive on here, perhaps with the answers as to why we have a nearly perfect mothballed ship here. Follow the directions of your superiors. Oberst knows this ship, so we'll have to rely on his expertise.” With that, Anshar cut the comm to the transport just as Oberst exited the shuttle.

Anshar turned his attention back to the strange sense that he had gotten. He still felt like he was being watched, but even more closely than before. However, unlike the eyes of anger that seemed to peer into everyone, these unknown eyes were very different.

As Anshar’s voice faded from the comm, Ronovi distinctly heard her heartbeat quicken. While she had waited for any response from her superiors, she had merely been observing the interior of the transport before focusing on Kazarelth. He had appeared to be playing with some orb, and though it seemed rather uninteresting, it resonated with an aura that was not to be dealt with lightly. Ronovi could feel the pulse from the receptacle raging as if it were an impending storm, and only when she was beginning to adapt to it did the Jedi Knight place it back into his robes.

At the sound of the Consul’s announcements, the volunteers were steadily readying themselves for landing. Ronovi only tightened her grip against the arm of her chair as the pilot’s voice crackled over the comm.

“All clear. Passengers prepare for landing.”

Ronovi didn’t know whether or not to feel relieved or tense as the Incarnate One began moving steadily forward in a downward angle toward their destination. Besides, the vibes of fury coming from the rogue ship was pressing into her despite her weary grip on the Force; everyone in the transport could feel it, and she could tell by the looks on their faces.

It would only be another minute or two before they would land. Ronovi kept her eyes forward as the transport dipped low and made its way across the flight deck slowly and quietly.

--

Oberst, having exited the shuttle, watched stoically as the transport landed, his arms folded across his chest. The sense of some other existence was still nagging him, permeating his senses as he stood on the deck. He also had a bad feeling about some of the volunteers who had arrived; while many were adept enough to handle these strange forebodings, others would probably be intimidating by the vibes of hatred surrounding the ship. It was already bad enough for some to be irrational but worse if they could not handle the darkness that they wished to conquer and possess. He gritted his teeth as he moved his hand toward his side, only this time he fiddled with the BlasTech T-21 light repeater that was slung over his shoulder.


He watched as the door to the transport slid open as the faint voice of the pilot crackled on the inner comm before the connection was cut. Oberst counted sixteen or so volunteers as they exited the ship, all dressed light and bearing arms. He clucked his tongue at some of the weapons meagerly equipped on some of the Dark Jedi awaiting command; it was as if they were expecting this to be a simple raid that they could march out of once they searched. It wasn’t that simple; even an amateur should know that much.

Then Oberst entered the ship and looked at his fellow superiors. They were all focused on the ship, whether on controls or simply on the interior itself. “They’re all waiting. What do you want to do with them?” he asked.

“The volunteers? Give them their briefing,” Anshar replied. He then added, “I expect, as always, for you to know the best option for them in terms of searching,”

Oberst snorted as he nodded and left the ship. Best to let the Marshal take care of hired soldiers, he decided as he faced the group and cleared his throat.

--

“I want everyone at attention,” Oberst said in a sharp voice. Ronovi, as well as the other volunteers, stood upright, her eyes firmly fixed on the commander as he spoke. “As you all heard, you’re expected to investigate this ship. We all can feel something powerful in it, and whether or not it’s a threat should be found out and reported by you. If all is what we hope for, there should be no subsequent danger.

“But keep in mind that it may not be what we hope for. So I want you all to keep on guard. Be alert in your search. Be adamant. And do not do anything that you may regret.”

Oberst stepped forward as he scanned the small group. No one seemed to flinch, despite whether or not they were of lower rank. He silently counted the group again before continuing.

“Now this ship, as you can see, is particularly vast, so it’s best to split the team up to better extensive search. Since you’ll need your senses to be sharp, I want you all to form small groups depending on your grip on the Force. So for those of you who may not be as adept in detecting disturbances, go with someone who is. All of you will cooperate and work together in your inspections.

“I want you all to be in groups in the next few minutes. Then I want you on the ship. Get moving.”

With that, Oberst turned on his heel and entered the shuttle once more. Ronovi looked on momentarily before turning to the rest of the group, only to find that Kazarelth and Dralin were already flanking her. She grimaced; leave it to the Krathlings to remind her of her own weaknesses. She then watched as a newer member joined her group, making them four as they awaited instructions.

Ronovi did not speak; she merely maintained a suitable stance on the deck and laid her thoughts out for them to mingle with the vibes she was getting from the MC80. With any luck, she could see if she could find more in the feelings of hatred and rage that penetrated the ship’s atmosphere.

--

Oberst entered the ship again to see Anshar in the same spot as he was before, his eyes only half open. From the corner of his eye, Oberst saw Rekio further investigating the system before turning his attention back to the Consul.

“Whatever’s here is certainly keeping an eye on us,” Anshar murmured as he turned his head and observed the surroundings once more.

Oberst didn’t reply; instead, he only concentrated further on what he had detected before. He only became distracted once the volunteers began to file into the ship in their respective groups. In only a short amount of time, the search would commence.

Two meters of Oberst with a T-21 slung over his shoulder was an impressive sight. Dozens of beings with varying levels of mastery, or not, over the Dark Side was potent, but some of the volunteers probably would’ve felt better about this assignment had they some sense of danger that Oberst seemed to radiate. All of the Elder members of the Clan seemed to radiate that power, in fact. Perhaps it was their power within the Force, or their skills with Tarentum’s particular brand of power, Necromancy. Whatever it was, it was a palpable aura, and one that bolstered the morale of the Clan members and their troops.

But at the same time, it still wasn’t as strong of a sensation as the fear and dread radiating throughout the ship. Whatever the mystery with this ship was, the spirits of the Renegade certainly did not want these people here.

Anshar was in quiet conversation with Oberst and Dranik. Rekio continued to punch away at the communications console, doing something that the volunteers had not been privy to, though some were curious. It only took him a few moments, and then the Warlord turned and stepped over to join the Consul. Anshar’s attention suddenly shifted, and the words he was speaking apparently dropped off into confusion and, perhaps, concern.

“Sith?” Anshar asked softly. “Where are you going?”

A lone figure was moving away from the small groups massed in the center of the landing bay. Sith Bloodfyre, Master of the Sith Order and perhaps the wizard of the Clan to Oberst’s general, was slowly moving towards the bay doors, heading out of the landing bay without apparent reason.

“Master Bloodfyre, perhaps we can join you?” Kazarelth asked, stepping forward quickly, expecting a response from his Housemate. There was none, and Kazarelth’s steps soon slowed and halted about a dozen meters away from the main body of the Clan. “Where is he going?”


* * * * *


Something was going on with the rest of the Clan, but Sith paid it little attention. Anshar or Oberst were addressing the volunteers and troops, which was normal. But something within the ship certainly wasn’t normal. Sith could feel it; it wasn’t just Anshar with the sense of something waiting for them. But to the Shaevalian, it wasn’t just waiting; it was calling. Something was reaching out to him, waving him forward.

There it was again. A slight noise. Almost a whisper. So faint, it was barely detectable. There again. It was definitely a voice. Perhaps a female, little more than a child from the sound of it. The words were indistinguishable from the bay, but it had a concern to it, a sense of urgency.

The Clan would deal with its own matters. Sith’s mind no longer registered that there were others with him, apparently. All his attention was now on whomever it was calling out to him, seeking him personally for some emergent task. He had to answer the call, almost as if some primal urge within himself was destined to respond to this request.

The Sith Master stepped forward, slowly at first, with his speed picking up to a rapid walk, leaving the vastness of the landing bay behind him. Noises… voices… or something reached out to his ears, but their cries could not register on his consciousness. They were nothing to him now.

As the bay doors opened to permit the Shaevalian to leave the bay and enter the halls of the ship, the Renegade was no longer a lifeless, quiet mystery. The lights of the ship were on at full luminescence. Officers and crewmen walked by infrequently, out about on some task, or simply heading off duty to their own quarters. Sith stepped out of the way of one group of crewmen who seemed oblivious to his presence, perhaps ready to walk right over the Sith Master for daring to stand in their path. Bloodfyre opened his lips to speak, perhaps ready to assault them verbally for not noticing his presence and making way for him, until it became incredibly obvious that they truly had not seen him. Apparently, they did not even recognize his existence along with their own.

“I’m in a dream…” Sith muttered softly to himself.

It was now incredibly apparent. Sith wasn’t sure why he wouldn’t have noticed it before. There was a haze to the edge of his vision, one rather indicative of a Force vision. But for some reason, this vision was like no other that Sith had experienced in his entire life. It was almost as if he had been pulled into the vision, and was perhaps a part of it, without truly being there at all.

Something was definitely aboard this ship, but it was no mere physical danger or mystery. The Force was calling to the Sith Master. The Dark Side was showing him this vision for a purpose, but thus far, only so shortly into it, Bloodfyre could not decipher what that meaning was.

The only thing Sith could do was delve further into his dream and try to discover what the meaning of it was, and so he did. With steps that were now less hasty, and much more cautious, Sith decided to follow the group of crewmen who had nearly run him over, and find out where they were going. Perhaps there, he would find clues to the mystery of this ship.


* * * * *


“He’s moving unbelievably fast,” Dranik said, watching Bloodfyre disappear down the dimly-lit halls. “It’s kind of hard to believe he can see as well as he can in this emergency lighting.”

“You forget,” Rekio said, folding his arms across his chest. “Sith’s eyes aren’t like yours or mine. Light-sensitive. Daylight and such hurt him, but in the time I’ve known him, he’s shown great ability to see in even the lowest of light conditions.”

“Someone should follow him,” Anshar stated firmly. “I don’t know where he’s off to, or why he’s suddenly unable to hear us, but he’s headed off in a direction that I feel a strong pull towards. He’s probably getting the same feelings that I’ve been having. It’s almost like… there’s someone watching us onboard.”

Anshar closed his eyes and stretched out with his feelings. He saw eyes all around in the sight offered by the Force. They were eyes unlike any he had ever seen before, but could easily see the malice in their eyes. And in his own vision, they were all focused on Oberst.

Anshar brought himself back into the reality of the moment. He turned to the clan. “Alright, let’s search this ship and see what’s going on. Oberst, I imagine you’ll want to start with the bridge.” The Marshall nodded.

“I’ll take a team to engineering,” said Rekio. “Regardless of what is going on with this ship, it’d be nice if we could somehow manage to take this thing with us. It isn’t everyday that warships get dropped in your lap.” There were murmurings of agreement.

“What about Master Bloodfyre?” asked Kazarelth. Anshar turned and looked in the direction that the Sith Master had gone down.

“I will follow him,” said Anshar, “If only to try and snap him out of whatever he’s gotten into. Alright, let’s break and get done with this. There’s still the potential for someone to come find us just sitting here.”

* * *

Ronovi, Kazarelth, and Dralin made their way down the almost empty, somewhat poorly lit hallway. It was almost empty because they occasionally found skeletal remains of what they assumed to be former crewmembers of the ship. No flesh remained on the bones, but they were also pure white. There was not a sign of decomposition on them; which made perfect sense if the bodies had been exposed to space.

“You know, I just thought of something,” said Kazarelth. “I came across a holo-novel once-”

“You read a novel?” asked Dralin, showing a bit of surprise mixed with sarcasm. Kazarelth pursued knowledge with a fanatical zeal that exceeded most Krath.

“Yes,” replied Kazarelth. “Anyway, the story was about a ghost ship and some adventurer finding it, and eventually making it off. The story included something about a little girl, I think. But, it was definitely about an MC80. But here’s the real kicker: the guy who wrote it claims it is true. No one believes him, of course.”

“Show me a little girl on this ship and then we’ll consider it,” said Ronovi. Kazarelth shrugged. Suddenly, a voice dripping with the venom of anger, hissed from the shadows:

“You serve the murderer! Death shall be on you for his crimes!” Around the three journeymen, a strange mist began to swirl. They all assumed a defensive posture, though they were unsure of what they were facing. All around them, bloodlust poured out in torrents.

* * *

Anshar pursued Bloodfyre, but whatever was going on in the Sith Master’s mind, it certainly had him moving at a fast pace, as if he was being led somewhere specifically. The strange corridors of the MC80 did not help. Suddenly, though, Anshar stopped and a chill ran down his spine.

“What’s going on?” asked Dranik, who had followed Anshar. A strange gust of wind seemed to blow through the corridor and a mist enveloped them.

“I told you they would be here,” said an eerie feminine voice. It was a voice that Anshar thought he recognized, but could not place. A strange shimmer caught Anshar’s and Dranik’s attention, and they both turned to see a Force ghost of a human female. Her face was disfigured and Anshar recognized her from the events on Koros some time ago, back before he had returned as Consul. She was one of the spirits from the Crystal of Tears, that Tarentum had helped Trevarus Caerick forge, and that Trevarus had broken during the last Great Jedi War.

“You are friends with the murderer!” hissed another voice. “You must die with him.” Something rushed towards Anshar. Before Anshar could react, a flash of silver flashed in front of him, revealing an almost amorphous entity. Dranik’s lightsaber blade clashed with the entity and passed cleanly through it without any noticeable effect. The strange entity seemed to collide with Anshar, but was repelled.

“My poor child,” said the female Force ghost: Saryana, Anshar remembered her name now. “This one is too strong for you.” Suddenly Saryana lunged at Anshar. Anshar braced himself, knowing that no physical weapon could hurt the ghost, but hoping that his own powers could stop whatever the ghost intended. The contact never happened.

A strange barrier suddenly appeared and Saryana’s Force ghost slammed into it much like a physical being would run into a stone wall. Cursing, Saryana disappeared. The strange mist and wind seemed to die down. Dranik, his lightsaber still burning, and Anshar stood there momentarily. Finally, they both turned, sensing something was watching them from behind. There, not more than five meters away, stood a young girl. She appeared to be no more than twelve years old, with brown hair and eyes.

“Who are you?” demanded Dranik, taking a defensive stance. The girl looked at him, but her gaze returned to Anshar. The eyes felt very familiar, and Anshar certain that she had been watching them. The girl did not reply to Dranik’s inquiry. Instead, she simply disappeared.

* * *
Oberst made his way towards the bridge, memories returning with each step. Success and failure, triumph and tragedy, pleasure and pain: they all reverberated in his mind and the ship. And with each of these memories came a better understanding of what the clan had just walked into. It was, however, too late to go back now.

There was a sudden, stony silence, almost as if the entire ship had been sucked into a black hole, as the mist finally wisped away in fine strands before fading altogether from normal vision. Anshar and Dranik merely stood there, waiting in that silence, before the hum of Dranik’s lightsaber suddenly came back to life. It seemed more subtle, however, as if the sound was muffled by the forces that they had just witnessed. Dranik breathed deeply.

“What does this mean?” he asked.

“This ship is filled with memories,” Anshar said. “Alive even when passed on. Thriving on vengeance. It won’t be long before these spirits show themselves to everybody else who’s here. After all, we’re guilty by affiliation.”

He paced for a moment, his boots clicking on the durasteel floor even though he almost didn’t seem to hear it. Dranik was looking across the walls, then down the corridor where Bloodfyre had vanished out of view.

“So,” he concluded in a soft voice, “it won’t be long before they find who they're looking for, too.”

Anshar nodded before adding, “And soon those who linger here will try the accused.” He then turned and strolled down the corridor that lay ahead of them. “Come. We still must follow Sith."

--

“Stay close!” Kazarelth commanded as the mist thickened.

The rage was pouring in from all sides. Ronovi tried to open her mind to what surrounded them, but everything came back hazy and unclear; it was useless to attempt it. She felt her body grow tenser in its defensive stance, and she bit her lip to keep from snarling at whatever was facing them. Behind her, Ronovi heard the hum of Kazarelth’s lightsaber as he activated it and watched as Dralin did the same out of the corner of her eye. A blaster would be of better use to her, she thought, as she reached into her robes and pulled out one of her SSK-7s. She angled the heavy pistol upward in her right hand, not wanting to aim at anything for fear of angering the unknown apparition.

“Who are you?” Dralin shouted, his voice rebounding off the durasteel walls.

There was no answer for a while; then the same voice from before hissed, “We require retribution. There will be no one departing without atonement!”

“Stay focused,” Kazarelth muttered. “The best we can do for now is stay at the ready. Try again, Dralin.”

“Show yourself!” Dralin called, brandishing his saber. The voice came back, this time rougher and more threatening.

“As you wish.”

Ronovi’s eyes widened as several blurred apparitions rushed into her line of vision, their faces distorted as they moved toward the clustered trio. Her Force senses were all in disarray as she attempted to further detect anything, but the ghosts were moving too fast. Instinct set in on her as she aimed her blaster and fired one shot. Though of course it did no damage, it did scatter the apparitions momentarily as if they were surprised at such a strike. Ronovi felt her shoulders loosen as she lowered her pistol – just as the apparitions flew at them again. For one moment, she thought that, in that cluster of spirits, she saw the face of a young girl.

“Get down!” Kazarelth roared before some unknown force threw Ronovi off her feet. She landed squarely on her right shoulder, yet through the dull pain she still saw Kazarelth erecting his shield around her, himself, and Dralin as the mist closed in on them. Both the Jedi Knight and the Jedi Hunter made a move to lunge with their lightsabers, but everything was moving too fast, and they only found themselves stabbing at thin air.

Everything died down, the mist fading, and then…silence. No remnants of any conflict were to be found. It was just the three of them in corridor, as if nothing had even happened. Slowly, Ronovi propped herself on one knee and attempted to recollect herself. As her sight cleared, she saw Dralin and Kazarelth approach her. Kazarelth was grinning visibly, and Ronovi prayed that it wasn’t a signal for further ridicule of her actions.

Instead, Kazarelth said, “Well, whoever we just faced didn’t put too much of a fight. That let me down. But for all I know, they’re testing us.”

“Teasing us is more like it,” Dralin muttered. “How are we meant to get answers if everything just rushes by?”

Ronovi breathed deeply before rising to her feet. Even if Dralin had asked the question, they all knew the answer without saying a word. Those ghosts wouldn’t be gone for long; if they meant vengeance, they would attempt to exact it. They had to stay alert. The Guardian placed her blaster back into her robes before the three continued down the corridor, staying close together as they moved.

G-corridor was silent. The emergency lights kept one from stumbling in the dark, but it also cast long shadows in the wide hallway. The shadows played tricks on the eyes of the small group’s rear guard. As the group moved forward, it felt like more and more things were following them. The two in the rear started to sweat like they were in a marathon. Only it wasn’t the hot, fatigued sweat of physical exertion. This was the cold, clammy sweat of fear. It made their clothing, their armor, cling to their bodies.

The three leading the group weren’t faring much better. In the center stood the titanic Marshal of Clan Tarentum. His usual great coat had been left behind in the shuttle, and his officer’s tunic was undone. Over his back was the portable generator for the light repeater he had braced against his hip in front of him. Hanging at his side was his ubiquitous baton. The symbol of his rank and position within the Clan and within Lord Khyron’s household. More importantly, the baton served as the hilt of his lightsaber.

Flanking him were two “brothers.” On his left was the blind, former Quaestor of House Tarentum – Archean Erinos. To his right was Archean’s annoyance of an adopted brother – Xayun.

“I don’t get why I have to be here,” Xayun’s nasal complaint cut through the suffocating blanket of quiet and unease. He kept his rifle up. Oberst had shoved it into his chest before dragging him along from the hangar.

“You’re here, because your brother is interested,” Oberst ground his teeth in reply.

“So,” the incredulity in Xayun’s voice made his pitch go higher, “I still don’t know why I have to be here.”

Oberst smacked Xayun upside the head before responding, “I might need fire support. Archean is blind.”

“He’s got a lightsaber!”

“Gu-,” Archean attempted to interject but it was useless.

“Which is great if trouble is close. I would love to keep trouble away.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be big and badass?”

“Really, gu-“

“Shouldn’t you be looking out for your ner’vod?” the foreign word stumbled on Oberst’s lips.

“Guys!,” Archean finally got through.

Both replied annoyed, “What?!”

Archean pointed in front of them at the swirling mist that was creeping towards them. Xayun and Oberst opened fire in tandem while the blind Battlemaster ignited his lightsaber and took up a ready stance. Archean frowned as he heard the blaster fire. He could feel the mist still creeping towards them, but something was wrong. Stretching behind him, he noticed that the rest of their small group wasn’t exactly behind them anymore. In fact, he couldn’t sense them at all.

Ronovi had stared hard at the place where she thought she had seen the little girl. The Epicanthix wondered if she had really seen the figure, or was it merely an image formed by Kazarelth’s words.

‘Novels. Heh, what kind of an id-’ she started thinking and quickly stopped as she saw the piercing eyes of the Krath Knight fall upon her.

“The kind who sometimes believes that the truth is hidden in metaphors, Tavisaen”, Kazarelth said. He put a long, pale blue hand into his cloak and extracted his trusty datapad. He typed absently as they moved along the dark corridors with caution, Dralin in front, his lightsaber at the ready, followed by Ronovi and then Kazarelth.

“Stop, and hear this. I have some excerpts from the novel in my pad.” Kazarelth said, as Dralin rolled his eyes.

“ ‘She had been smuggled in one of the cargo boxes, presumably by a sympathetic goods seller. Her temporary home was not of too much inconvenience, since she was put in the same hold as that of live cargo. The two days she spent there sobbing and alone were her worst days, yet the little girl gathered her courage from the toys she brought back from her home-world. Simple things as they were… they clung to her heart like how light does on dying embers.’ ” Kazarelth’s hushed narrative was interrupted simultaneously by an impatient cough by Ronovi and Dralin’s grumble of, “talk about metaphors…”

He continued regardless, “ ‘Her tiny hands clutched her mother’s beaded necklace to be reminded of her tender, loving care. The trinket hand-crafted by her father never mellowed in its evenness and the magic of love encrusted his own heart in it. It staid warm in her hands even in the misery of the chill of the…’ You guys aren’t even listening.” The Omwati’s annoyed voice rose beyond a whisper for a moment.

“That’s because it’s a novel, Kaz. A work of fiction. It must’ve been a marketing strategy, the claim.” Dralin shrugged it off, “Besides, I didn’t see a girl in that maelstrom. Or anything in particular.”
Kazarelth stared hard and long at Dralin, before deciding against revealing that he had seen the girl too. That fleeting glimpse was enough for him to search for more.

“Whatever the case may be, we do seem to be headed for the cargo hold. It may hold some clues about the wandering spirits.” Kazarelth said after seeing an almost faded map of the vessel.

--

‘THAT GIRL AGAIN!’
A collective whispered roar exploded. It stole through the durasteel walls; yet it was unheard by most. It mingled and dispersed into the stale air and became one with it. The manifestations ran helter-skelter in pursuit of the offender. Now the officers’ quarters, now to a turbolaser station, now to the bridge.
Yet her favourite haunt was kept for the end. Her last home.

--

Sith could hear the crewmen’s muffled conversation. Yet it was blurred like the fringes of an artificial dream. The voices echoed and hissed in the cave that was the corridor where the crewmen were.

“You think ssshhheee could ha-ave been found-dd?” The oddly hissing and echoing voice of the taller man questioned.

“No-o wa-ay. Ssshee’ssss sssafe.”
“Let’ssss check again.”

The Sith Master followed his imaginary guides. Towards that voice. That… voice, he kept telling himself. That voice.

***

[OOC: Sorry Archean. I wrote this post earlier, and waited for quite a while. It's past 3 hours and you haven't posted.]

The mist swirled around the three, eveloping them then dissipating slightly. The blaster fire having absolutely no effect on the spirit. The lights in the corridor were beginning to flicker slightly and in short bursts as the mist crept. Archean turned his gaze to Oberst who was looking perplexed, Xayun began to shift around on the spot, looking around himself.

“Our comrades are not with us anymore.” whispered Archean. Oberst nodded, keeping his watch on the mist twirling, as if it was writing a feint message to them.
“We need to get word to Anshar about this.” Insisted Xayun.
“Well...nothing has happened...yet.” circled Archean, trying to see where the mist was coming from.
“Do you really want to wait around for something to happen?” Questioned Xayun.
“We have to find out what happened to this vessel and we won't be leaving until we do, Xayun.”
“Well you both can do it, I'm out of here.” Xayun's face was met with with the back hand from Oberst.
“Ouch! The hell was that for?!” Exclaimed Xayun
“Shhhh!” Oberst's eyes snapped to Xayun as he pointed to the formation of a body a few metres from where the three Dark Jedi were standing.

“Looks like we've got our answer.”

“So, you've finally come looking for us.” A shattering voice echoed through the corridor, the lights going haywire. Oberst moved forward, in front of Archean, still keeping his rifle at the ready.

“What say you, Maxamillian?” Another voice echoed behind the group. Xayun whipped around as he heard the bellow from behind him.

“Friends of yours, Oberst?” Archean moved back slightly, his lightsaber in front of his body while his senses were scanning the area.

“You could say that.”

Uneasy. The Quaestor of Tridens' mind was splitted to focus into two duties at once, between caring his multilevels members who volunteered in the search mission of reowning the MC80 and assuring the safety of the Clan Summits. The ship had been noted as lost in action within Clan Tarentum's history, and now it was just popping up in their way back home from Prakith. Its sudden appearance with strong radiating hatred and anger within had invited such curiousness from all who could sense them. The Consul had commanded the volunteers to search every part of the ship; Oberst had added the order to team the volunteers with at least someone who had high level of the Force skill to cling on, but for Odin, it was not just a simple members grouping. He had to be sure that the role of sentinel among his house members also taken place in the teaming, and it was not easy to establish the new doctrine into all levels.

The clan summits and anyone the clan summits deemed their safety were the major task of Tridens' member to guard, anywhere, anytime. Odin was glad that some of Tridens elite and training teams members, directly put themselves into the role, following the elders, divided into three paths of searching. Students always got close to their masters, learning their sentinel path.

Odin was about to run after the Consul's team when the Chief of the Corsair sending a mental tap to the newest Corsair to halt.

"You'd be better here, Odin. Obtaining the eye view of all segments of the ship is also the tool of safety. Assign your members," Rekio elaborated.

Odin noded at his leadership mentor and then looked at his Aedile and the other Corsairs.

"Some of us have to keep to the Consul's course," Odin concluded

"I will take the course," the former Quaestor of Tridens said his readiness

"I will go with my master," Elols added

Some Journeymen went after them, and soon they were disappeared within the sinuous alleys. Odin turned his attention to Kyra who observed some panels before her.

"Seems untouched for a quite long time," she commented. Her fingers tried to clean the dusty lines of web that covered the panels.

"Be caref...," Odin suddenly felt such uneasiness surge in his stomach, as a sudden wave ran through him, made him shift his footing to evade. And the direction was toward his apprentice.

"Kyra!" the Quaestor yelled, followed by the scream of the Obelisk.

Nothing seemed right on the MC80, when Kyra had exited the shuttle. Anger and hatred filled the ship and permeated all the obelisk’s senses; she could feel something else as well, a presence of unknown origin. The darkness of the ship did not help either. Kyra since boarding kept close to her master, as Odin kept a watchful eye on her, making sure his young apprentice stayed away from trouble. The groups of volunteers moved off to search the ship, Kyra, her master and the other members of their group, started down one of the alleys. The ship was quiet except for the voices and movement of the other Tarenti, and then it was only Odin’s small group.

Kyra began looking around, when the panels on the walls grabbed her attention. She approached them with some caution, but hey looked old and untouched, harmless she thought to her self.

As the young Jedi Hunter was removing some of the dust and webs from the panels, a subtle voice came through the wall, what sounded like a girl, curious she put her ear on the paneling then whispered “who are you”. She barely heard her master shout at her, “be caref…” he had begun to say, when the obelisk gave out a chilling scream.

From out of the panels she leaned against came a ghostly apparition. The Dathomiri fell back as the ghost came at her angrily. As Kyra moved away she removed her sword and started to attack it, though it had no impact on the apparition she attacked anyway hoping to scare it off. Swirling about, the ghost continued to come at the Jedi Hunter, and still she could hear the voice.

Odin rushed to the screams of his apprentice, fearing what had happened. “Kyra, are you all right?” yelled the Quaestor as he saw the ghost and Kyra.

“What is that?” said Odin, “its some kind of ghost, I think,” stated Kyra in a panicked voice as she continued to slash her blade threw it with no avail.

Odin ignited his lightsaber and attempted to fight off the apparition.

“Do you hear it?” shouted Kyra, “Hear What?” Odin shouted back as he slashed his saber at the ghost. “The voice, a girl’s voice.”

Then Odin heard it as the apparition rushed toward him. what are you thought the Quaestor as he fought it off.

The apparition then suddenly disappeared, as fast as it appeared, but not because of the two Dark Jedi.

“It came from the panels, and the voice,” the obelisk told her master still reeling from the experience, and still clutching her blade. “Master, what was that? Why did I hear a girl?”

"I heard it too, and no, I do not know what is was or what purpose it had in attacking us, but this ship, there is something here, something that is angry.”

The others in the group came up, but were to late to see the apparition. Odin confronted his group, “ anything can happen, so be ready, now let’s continue and find answers to our strange encounter.”

[OOC note: this was meant to be Dranik’s post, but he had some powerful storms go through his area and knock out his power]

“So, we have Force ghosts who hate the clan, on a ship full of spirits who hate Oberst, and a little girl,” said Dranik as he and Anshar began their pursuit of Sith again. They did, however, remain alert to changing circumstances. Their enemies would be back.

“I’m more concerned about the Crystal of Tears ghosts,” said Anshar. “Remember, they could possess bodies when we were reclaiming Koros.” The Crystal of Tears had been forged by Trevarus Caerick, with the assistance of Clan Tarentum. Into the crystal, Trevarus had sealed the spirits of seven Light Jedi and seven Dark Jedi, thus giving it whatever power it did have. Anshar had only heard of the Crystal; he had never been privy to its secrets. Now, however, the seven Dark Jedi had been released and had since sought revenge on Clan Tarentum for the assistance the clan provided in their internment.

“Yeah, but only the undead. They couldn’t possess us,” said Dranik.

“True,” replied Anshar. “But now it looks like they’ve allied themselves with the spirits that inhabit this ship. This is the first time I’ve ever heard of a non-Force sensitive leaving spirits behind. And they did try to attack us just now. Something must have them more confident; either way, we need to get Sith and just get off this thing. We’ll use it for target practice.”

“I’m afraid,” said the icy voice of Saryana, “that will not be possible.” The Force ghost appeared from no where. Around her, mists began to swirl, the spirits of the vessel coming to her side. “This ship will be your tomb. You especially will suffer for what you did to me!” In their first encounter, Anshar had managed to harm the Force ghost with a special necromantic technique he had developed. It was the reason her face was disfigured. Anshar raised his hands, preparing to unleash the attack again. He never got the chance.

The ship’s spirits began to swirl around him at a rapid pace. Dranik, likely out of habit, swung his lightsaber uselessly. “The others will destroy your clan, but I want to get you myself for what you did to me,” chided Saryana. With that, the Force ghost dove into Anshar’s chest and emerged from his back. Instantly, the ship’s spirits retreated, as if by command. Dranik looked over as the Consul. Anshar stumbled briefly before collapsing. “Now I can kill you, Consul” teased Saryana, adding a maniacal cackle to it. Then, just as before, everything disappeared, leaving Dranik alone with Anshar’s body.

The Obelisk Prelate quickly knelt next to Anshar’s body. The body was still alive, but something was amiss. Concentrating harder, Dranik gasped when he realized what happened. The body remained, but the spirit was gone.

* * *

Anshar felt strange as he drifted. No longer was his body and spirit connected. The witch of a Force ghost had somehow managed to separate the two entities. Anshar had heard of such things before, but he had never seen it done, or had it done to him. He looked around, but he could no longer see Dranik or his body. He must have drifted further than he thought. Anshar could still see that he was on the ship, though everything now looked different. He could see auras of everything, from the skeletal remains, to the ship’s angry spirits. That was something new: he could actually make out physical forms of the men and women. A movement to his side caught Anshar’s attention. Turning his head, he saw the same young girl again, looking directly at him.

“Perhaps you can help me?” Anshar ventured forth, his voice sounding a bit strange in his new, non-corporeal form. The girl continued to look at him.

“I called and you answered,” she said, “but you are not my king.”

“Your king?” asked Anshar. “Nevermind. I’m nobody’s king. Who are you? How can you see me?”

“Talitha,” replied the girl. “On this ship of the damned, I am the damnedest of them all.” Anshar was somewhat confused by the reply, but chose to press forward.

“Okay, Talitha,” he said. “Can you help me get back into my body?”

“Take me off this ship and to help me search for my king, and I shall see your body delivered safely,” replied Talitha. Anshar sighed, or at least what felt like sighing in this form.

“Alright,” he replied.

* * *
Saryana cursed loudly. She hadn’t meant to send Anshar’s spirit careening through the ship. While the other spirits, including her six cohorts from the crystal of tears, played their deadly games with the members of Clan Tarentum, Saryana burned with a desire only to kill Anshar. She could still feel the pain from his attack from their first encounter. But now, he had joined with that girl; the girl that Saryana had not seen until she had stopped the first attempt. How had she missed a living, breathing person on the ship?

The spirits behind her stirred, burning with a desire to kill the Murderer and his friends. They cared little for playing the games that Saryana and her cohorts played, but they had little choice. Without them, the ghosts of the Renegade would never have truly come alive.

"I have a bad feeling about this," Odin uttered and pushed a knob before him, "In regards to our clan power, it seemed my skill was pretty noob to even distinguish what the ghost wanted to tell us. I am in the path of watchers, level seven, but all of this is still disturbing."

"Maybe you have a talent, predetermined sensibility to see her, Kyra," he commented and continued to search the ship computer system in the adjacent room as Rekio told him and the other volunteers remaining in the communication bridge area to give their assistance. Rekio wanted to obtain access in the system, including navigation and level maps.

"In the relation to midichlorians?" Kyra asked

"Old stuff, yeah perhaps," the Warrior shrugs,"The Force is unique as so is the Darkside."

"The ghost might be choosing Kyra to see her appearance," said Karel, unexpectedly, as both Tridenians turned their sight at him,"In other case, you haven't practiced enough, Odin."

Just in time Odin opened his mouth to reply, the security holo recorder gave a visage in the middle of the room.

"Who has activated the recorder?"

Shaking heads and shrugs were the answers.

"I didn't think that knob had a relation with this, or ..."

Rekio entered the room and promptly asked, "Does the recorder work?"

"Oh...it comes from you?"

"Not really, but everything here is able to track down with the Doomsday's system."

"Master, look at this record. That man, knelt before a lying body, is that the ProConsul?"

"Who? Dranik?"

"Dranik should be with Anshar, to follow Sith's team. A lying body?"

Everyone gazed at the security record, trying to identify the body.

A portable comlink beeped on Odin's waist. The Warrior activated it to receive his Aedile's voice, "Yes, Elols"

"It seems we have lost the Consul. Unidentified physical enemies and fights. We were late to be in place. He is barely alive, still warm, but no sign of living."

"Dranik...May I speak to Dranik...Try to rewind the record!"

The visage was motioned in a blur, but it had stopped to a point that could not continue. A grumble responded at it.

"What has happened, Dranik?"

"She had taken Anshar's soul to wander..." faint answer came from the other side

Panics dwelt in the atmosphere as the Triden's first priority to guard had fallen miserably. Odin was about to jump in madness, but promptly calming his mind, trying to control the situation, if he was able to...

"Secure that place! And his body, I am going there!"

"Bring him back to the bridge." The Quaestor of Tridens heard his mentor's address, as he quickly nodded and ran out, followed by several Dark Jedi behind

Those who did not volunteer to fly over to the derelict ship and explore its ruined innards watched and listened to the volunteers' progress in the war room. Upon landing, the volunteers had hacked into the security systems and were transmitting the security cameras' images directly to the Doomsday.

Troutrooper, oblivious to reality as usual, walked in late, still damp from his snooze in his personal pool.“What's going on?”

Apollo sneered. “Did you not get the priority message from Oberst four hours ago? Did you not hear nor sense the ramp-up of activity in that time?”

The Dark Side Adept yawned. “Obviously not else I would have been here sooner. As I'm sure you'd agree, I need my beauty sleep.” He nodded his bulbous head at a monitor. “What's a MC80 doing out here?”

“We found the Renegade.”

“THE Renegade? From the EH?”

“Yes.”

The Mon Cal whistled low. “Never thought I'd hear that name again” He paused as he absorbed the situation. “Wait...Are we on that ship?”

Korras chimed in with the answer. “Yup. Oberst, Sith, and Anshar took a bunch of volunteers over to search it.”

Troutrooper's eyes widened. “Are they mental? Oberst should know better—well, they all should know better, but Oberst especially. The Renegade basically vanished one day. And now it reappears. Seriously, who thought it was a smart move to send our best and supposedly-brightest to capture a lost ship? Even EH Intel gave up chasing this ghost ship.”

“Why?”

“Because ships get lost, that's the nature of hyperdrive. She fought a couple minor skirmishes in the Minos Cluster at the beginning of the Outer Rim Wars, then we lost contact with her. Intel searched for a while, but the trail ran cold quickly. Ultimately, it was more cost-effective to simply claim her as lost and get insurance for her than to waste manpower looking. Now that she's found...Well, I want nothing to do—wait, what did Kaza say?”

Apollo pointed at one of the lower monitors. “Kazarelth says he's read a novel on this ship. Computer, search 'LITERATURE', 'MC80', and 'RENEGADE'...Three results, two of which are explicit interspecies comics. Gross. Anyway, here's the novel Kazarelth is excerpting from.” He forwarded the information to the main screen for all to see.

Murmurs bubbled up from the audience as they scanned the novel for clues. Korras frowned. “I feel stupid. I can't discern any subtext or metaphors from this. I must be missing something.”

“No,” Troutrooper said, eyes scanning the text for clues. “It's just trashy, poorly-written garbage. Kazarelth must be—“
“Sir!” A sergeant was staring wide-eyed and pale at a screen showing the various strike teams. All were flailing about in and seemingly against the air itself. “The mist. It's...It's attacking?”

“At ease, soldier,” Apollo snapped. “And use your brain. Air just doesn't...” He tapered off as he watched everyone slash, shoot, stab the air and the mist. All in the war room stopped and gaped at the “fights” transpiring. Bewildered and in disbelief, they shook their heads. No one knew how to process the situation. Tarenti were accustomed to undead, but combating spirits was not something for which they trained (though if they survived, Oberst would be sure to include it in his training curriculum.)

Korras's head spun. “Did anyone else hear that? Computer, playback fifteen seconds of Feed Delta.” All leaned in and heard, “The voice, a girl's voice.” “There! That's it! The book was telling the truth!”

“Quiet,” Troutrooper requested. “Anshar mentioned something, and it looks like he knows this...spirit? Ephemeral being? Computer, playback ten seconds of Feed Epilson.” This time, the crowd heard Anshar discussing the Crystal of Tears, ghosts, non-Force-sensitive spirits. He spoke to someone, but never said its name. None of it made any sense to anyone. Pieces stimulated a few disseparate memories in a couple people, but nothing that they could use at that moment.

In the next moment, the room exploded.

Seeing their Consul attacked and killed by a waif sent the non-volunteers into a panic. Some cried, some swore, others screamed. A couple officers barked useless orders at subordinates solely to try to do something even if counterproductive towards the main goal.

“Okay, okay, calm down, everyone.” Troutrooper said. “We aren't helping anyone—them or us—by running around like mynocks with our heads cut off. Focus. Breathe. Relax. We're flying blind here. We know next to nothing about this ship and its history. Fighting the unknown is folly. We need to get more information if we are to help our Clanmates.

“Here's what we know. Number one, the Renegade should not be here. Why is it here? Number two, that story is very likely telling the truth. We need to find out more about it. Number three, that child knows something. We need to know more about her. Number four, that mist, if it really is the released spirits of some Tarentum/Trev-made artifact, well, whatever. We need more info on that and whoever that woman is/was/whatever. And number five, we need to know how to cure Anshar. Five questions that need answers. Let's go.”

Something was not right, Ronovi thought as she followed Kazarelth and Dralin further in the direction of the cargo room. As they walked, she felt as if the air was growing colder with each step. Even without looking straight at them, she knew that the two Krath were feeling the same thing, even if they maintained their composure perfectly. She tried to think straight as the threads of the Force wove together in her mind. She felt the same hatred from the ship, the same taste for revenge, the sweet triumph of at last killing the Consul...

"NO! NO!"

Kazarelth and Dralin spun around to face Ronovi as she stopped dead in her tracks, her face having gone completely white. Slowly her fists clenched as undeniable anger and fear coursed through her. She breathed harshly before speaking again.

"I'm sorry...it's Anshar...he's..."

Dralin's face was solemn. "I know, Ronovi. I felt it in the Force, too. A disbalance."

"But you didn't have to make it known to the entire ship," Kazarelth added, a small, teasing smile on his lips. That didn't do well for Ronovi's current state of mind, and she marched up to him and raised her fist threateningly.

"You think wanting me to black your goddamn eye is going to make this any better for the clan? Anshar is dead. DEAD. And we're here on this ship with only bits and pieces about what these ghosts want! And all you can do is smile about it?!" she raved.

Kazarelth's grin only got slightly bigger. "No, Ronovi. It's because Anshar isn't dead."

Silence; Ronovi slowly lowered her fist, her eyebrow furrowing. "What? What do you mean, he's not dead?" she stuttered.

"In case you don't remember, Ronovi, I'm well-educated in the delicate balance between life and death. And while I, too, felt that same disturbance when Anshar fell, I could tell that the disturbance we felt was not death, but merely separation. He's, how can I casually put it...broken off from the flesh. Why is a different subject altogether."

"I don't care where or what he is, it doesn't help," Ronovi growled. But Kazarelth shushed her.

"There's no time for us to worry about Anshar. For all we know, he's wandering to places and finding clues that we can't reach. For now, let's stay focused on our job. Let's get to the cargo ship before something else like this happens."

With that, the Knight turned and started walking again, disappearing around a corner. Ronovi paused to look at Dralin, who merely shrugged and followed after Kazarelth. This was no other choice but to move forward.

---

As Apollo attempted to do further research, Troutrooper paced the room. He then turned and asked, "What have we got so far?"

Apollo replied, "Well, from what we obviously know already, these ghosts from the Renegade and those once sealed in the crystal have to be working together in some way. Both groups are working to not just exact revenge, but obviously kill everyone in the clan, especially Oberst and Anshar."

"Well, they've succeeded with Anshar," Korras said, "but is it really that they want to kill us simply because we're from Tarentum?"

"Believe it or not, it's that simple," Troutrooper said. "How they were aroused from their slumber is something to look at. Plus the idea of how to defeat them."

"Clearly, they're not fending so well with the latter question," Korras muttered as he replayed a shot of some volunteers furiously trying to battle the mist with their blades. "If these are ghosts, weapons will do nothing. Something more in tune with the Force and the Dark Side has to do with how to beat these ghosts."

"And the girl, still, her purpose," Apollo said. "That novel, whether you think so or not, may have more we can study."

Troutrooper snorted. While the novel was important to analyze, there were still more answers to find - in particular, why the ship was here and what was going to happen to Anshar. He ordered several segments from attacks on the Renegade to be viewed again, and they watched several volunteers struggle against the mist, including the scene with Oberst encountering the mist, in hopes of finding more answers. Little did any of them know that Anshar was with this girl that they were attempting to understand, searching for something he didn't expect to be looking for.

---

"There it is," Kazarelth said. "The cargo hold. Open it up, guys."

One shot from Ronovi's blaster was enough to break apart the bolt holding the door closed, and with one shoulder she shoved it open. Dralin stepped inside first, his face lit up by the light coming from his saber. Ronovi went in next, with Kazarelth taking up the back. Best to have those with better Force senses flanking the one who didn't do so well.

With what little light they had, they could tell immediately that the hold wasn't much to look at. While there were obviously forgotten crates and such, nothing alive seemed to stir. If this girl had been in one of the cargo boxes, then none of the boxes here seemed to be opened or broken apart at all. Not even signs of anyone being stowed in here once, let alone a little girl, was present. It seemed as if they had only reached a dead end.

Ronovi looked around impatiently before a sudden thought struck. It wasn't much, but she wanted to find something that further any knowledge they had about this girl. She quickly turned to Kazarelth.

"Kaz, you're going to find this funny...but I actually read that novel once. A while ago."

Kazarelth looked at her amusedly. "While I didn't expect someone like you to enjoy investing your thoughts in anything literary, I'm all ears. Go ahead."

"Well, from what I remember, one line went on about some sort of tale or something about a ruler that the girl believed in. According to the guy who wrote it, she constantly talked about a king."

"I remember that. Why?"

Ronovi paused and thought for a moment. "Well, if we're going to find clues by doing bits and pieces, best to think about everything."

"Ronovi, there's no point in thinking about something that has no relevance," Dralin interjected. "For all I know, she probably used the king reference when talking about her lost father or something. So unless we can connect it to something, we shouldn't think about it."

"We never thought ghosts would be on this ship, Dralin, but we're certainly thinking about it now, aren't we?" Ronovi snapped.

"Quiet! Both of you, quiet," Kazarelth said roughly.

The two stopped bickering and looked at the Knight, who was looking around the room. He didn't have to add anything; already, Ronovi felt an eeriness in the air. They were no longer alone. Someone or something had come into the room with them.

"We should leave," Ronovi whispered.

"What? Why?"

"We should leave NOW."

But as Ronovi headed for the door, it slammed shut, closing off all excess light from outside. Now all there was for vision was the glow of two lightsabers, slowly being enshrouded by mist.

Not again... Ronovi thought as she raised her blaster. But she knew that this time, they would have to resort to something other than brute force.

The crispness of the air inside the War Room on the Doomsday was out weighed by the sorrow in the hearts of most of those within. The apparent death of thier Consul had hit many people hard in this tight-knit group of individuals. Some have known Anshar for many years, others only few a few months. The effect it had thier ability to do thier duties was evidant, but Apollo knew that they would overcome it. They will quickly focus thier hate and anger on thier enemy. And the best way to do that is to let that image of thier Consul laying on the ground constantly eat at them. Soon, they will be consumed by it. And that is exactly what they need.

Apollo turned to Troutrooper. He smirked at his friend of many, many years. One of Trout's bulging Mon Cal eyes turned toward him.

"What.."

"You know we're going to have to go over there." Apollo replied.

"The hell we are. I'm not going over in that nightmare-waiting-to-happen peice of junk!" Trout exclaimed, pointing at the holoscreen of the old ship.

"What, affraid they will go after you next?" asked Apollo as he tilted his head, examining his friend.

"Funny, human." Trout said. "Go ride a rancor or something."

Apollo smiled and shook his head before standing, shrugging off the jab at his homeworld of Danthomir. He slaped his friend on the back then pointed toward one of the security vids filled with frightened younger clansman.

"You seen this kind of holo-vid before. You know how it ends. We go in to save everyone, do a lot of fighting then come back out." Apollo explained.

"Yeah, or it's going to be a damned Gamorrean-Tragedy and everyone dies." Trout said shrugging off Apollo's hand.

Apollo turned to his friend, his stature turning serious.

"Listen, we're going to gather all the info we can. See if we can find a way to beat these things or at least hold them at bay until we can get our people out of there. Until then, we'll stay here. Unless something happens to some of our people and we need to go over sooner."

Trout nods and takes a deep breath, continuing to monitor the situation on the old Mon Cal ship. One of the officers turns towards the two Krath.

"Sirs, look at this." The officer, said, pointed towards one of the security vids. The screen shows a hallways looking towards the cargo bay Ronovi and her team are investigating. The three members are inside but suddenly try to run for the door. The cargo bay door quickly closes, trapping them inside.

"Oh crap." Apollo muttered. Two of those trapped inside were his AED and one of his Battleteam leaders.

"The Galaxy is working against me man, I swear to Sith." Trout said hanging his head.

Oberst grinned in answer to the challenge from the spirit. He dropped the repeater and shrugged the power pack off. Cracking his neck, he took up a ready stance with his disengaged lightsaber in hand.

“You’re a fool, Maxamillian,” the first voice began, “your weapons cannot hurt us.”

“They don’t have to.” Oberst sprang into action with this. He feinted back, but rather than engage the lightsaber, he threw his left arm behind him. A wail emanated from behind the trio as a wall of mist seemed to form.

The mist in front of them paused and regrouped, before the voice stated demanded, “Defiler! Even in death you torment and destroy!”

“I don’t know who you are, but I’d imagine you are just another anonymous victim,” Oberst sneered as he engaged his lightsaber, “And what I’ve done is bound your friends. Normally, I attack a person’s soul that way. But, this works just as well.”

“You die!” The spirits surged forth.


* * *

When Archean heard Oberst engage his lightsaber, he activated his own and took up a ready stance. Archean knew that there were still many things he had to learn about Necromancy, but he didn’t think that twisting a soul into a barrier was one of them. Stretching out with his rudimentary skills, he was able to sense each of the spirits and ghosts that were behind them now tied up in the wall, in agony. He’d once seen Master Zero demonstrate how to use the souls of the dead to protect ones self from physical harm. He’d never thought that the power could be adapted.

The spirits surged force, and Archean saw Death through the Force. As they neared, the lead spirits shrieked. Their physical screams were drowned out by the unearthly screams that reverberated through Archean’s head. He wasn’t sure if it was mental or if he was hearing the soul itself. Whatever it was, it was like the soul was being wiped out of existence. Through the Force he saw a stream of black heat pour out of Oberst’s hands. Before he could say anything, he felt a heavy weight slam into his side. His brother.

“Get down!” Xayun hissed in his ear, “Those things are made and they started hurling parts of the bulkheads.”

Archean felt a large chunk of wall headed towards him and Xayun. He stretched out with his mind to stop it, but Xayun was faster. He hurled a small shaped charge at the debris, blowing it up before it got to them.

“Got any more of those?” Archean caught the handful that Xayun tossed his way. He heard a holster unbuckled and a weapon drawn.
“Let Oberst deal with the spirits, we’ll take care of the debris,” the statement was punctuated by several rounds from Xayun’s six-shooter.

* * *

Oberst was lost in a new type of blood lust. His thirst for pain was quenched as he snuffed souls out of existence. He was near his limit, but he could feel the spirits edging back. The Erinos would deal with the debris. “I will not be stopped!” Oberst screamed, sadistic joy icing his voice, “I am the Beast of Tarentum! I am the Executioner of Lord Khyron! You have fallen before me once before, and will fall again!” The blackflame extended out from him in waves, crashing against the souls before them like storm waves against a small boat. Spirits buckled and fled. Others that could not flee screamed in agony, pain felt once more before darkness took them.

As the corridor cleared, Oberst’s lust for pain was not sated. He turned to the young Equites with him and his grin grew wider and more feral.

[OOC: Most of the powers I demonstrated are out of range of many. See my post in the details for more info.]

While Apollo's eyes were focused on the monitor where his Aedile and Battle team leader had been shut inside the hold, his thoughts were suddenly interrupted by Korras's voice. "Hold on, guys. You have to see this."

Everyone's attention was on another screen, the image of Oberst slightly blurring as he faced the mist. One moment, he and the Erinos had brandished their weapons, the next, a horrible shrieking erupted, forcing everyone on the Doomsday to cover their ears. Still, they watched the monitor as Oberst visibly sneered as he held his hands raised against the mist, which was dissipating by the minute.

"What's going on?" someone in the group demanded.

Apollo concentrated, attempting to use the Force to see what Oberst was doing on the screen. Faintly, he could detect black flames pouring from his hands, which in turn was driving off the mist. The Erinos were clearing away debris that had fallen due to the attack on one corner of the screen, and then, almost as quickly as it had started, it stopped. Everyone watched as the last of the mist faded away and Oberst lowered his hands, a wild look in his eyes that was noticeable even in the view of a camera.

There was silence.

"Well, the answer on how to defeat these things hit us right in the face, didn't it?" Korras said.

Troutrooper nodded. "Necromancy. Oberst doesn't tend to resort to the Force much, but when he does, it's all consuming. His grip on the forces of life and death is strong enough to bind these ghosts together and destroy them from the inside out."

"But not everyone on that ship has that power!" Apollo objected. "Many of the people who volunteered haven't even dabbled in such Dark Arts. If some of them aren't with the proper partners, they have no chance of beating these spirits."

As he spoke, his eyes returned to the screen where his comrades had disappeared into the hold, biting his lip. It was then that he remembered just what sort of power Kazarelth held as well. Being someone who Bloodfyre had worked with, Talismarr had to have some skill in necromancy to at least drive off the ghosts momentarily for the escape. But that wouldn't necessarily be enough for some of the other volunteers charging into the ship.

Apollo turned to Troutrooper. "I'm willing to stay here a little longer if all goes beneficially for us. If not, I'm not just going to sit here, researching all the little tidbits we need. If it comes down to it, we'll need reinforcements."

Reluctantly, Troutrooper nodded before turning back to the cameras. On one screen, Dranik was still in the same place, watching after Anshar's body and readying himself for any other strikes. It was only a matter of time before others would look for them.

---

Even in the surrounding mist, Ronovi tried desperately to open the door, but it was of no use. While it hadn't been bolted, some unnatural force was holding it shut and trapping the three inside. She raised her pistol at the oncoming mist only to hear high-pitched laughter emerging from it.

"Such fools, threatening us with those toys," said a voice. "I expected more from Tarentum."

"Why won't you leave us alone?" Ronovi barked, but her remark was only met with more laughter.

"We will carry out our desire for blood. You must die."

"Get down!" Kazarelth shouted as the mist whirled around them almost as if the three were in the center of a tornado. The Knight erected his physical shield once again, but it wouldn't do much against the spirits. The mist was coming in closer, building up like an undeniable pressure.

"Useless," the voice from the mist hissed again, before Ronovi saw a strange figure emerge from the mist. While its face was distorted, it held a horrible visage of malice and satisfaction. Clearly this spirit appeared to be leading the pack, as the mist trailed behind it as it moved toward them.

"We'll start with you," the ghost growled, pointing a blurry finger directly at the Guardian. Ronovi felt her blood run cold.

"Ronovi, run!" Dralin hollered.

But what he said was illogical and panicked, as there was no way Ronovi could escape this one. Already she felt something like a large, cold hand closing in on her, gripping her as if it were an iron clamp. All she could see was white as the mist enveloped her, and suddenly, she felt her hands loosening as her blaster dropped to the floor without a sound.

What...what's happening to me?! While there was no pain, Ronovi felt as if something was attempting to pull her from her body, to distort her, twist her, and then leave her in pieces. A rough cry broke out from her throat, but she didn't hear it; she attempted to fight off the grip on her, but it only tightened. All at once, feelings of regret and denial flew through her head before her own thoughts faded, as she, too, would be dragged away into the abyss...

And then a wave of almost unnatural darkness pierced through the shroud, and a sudden shriek drew away the mist from Ronovi. She felt her knees hit the durasteel floor and actually heard the thud as she landed on her side, breathing harshly. As her vision cleared, she feebly watched as Kazarelth stepped toward the receding mist, his hand outstretched. Even when weak, she was still able to feel the powerful dark aura of the Force surrounding Kazarelth as his eyes blazed as if containing fire.

"You started with your mischief," Kazarelth said, his voice oddly distorted in Ronovi's ears, "and now you'll end with your begging."

All at once, a wave of dark energy drove the mist further back, becoming immobilized even though it didn't dissipate. All that Ronovi could guess was that Kazarelth was using what he knew of Necromancy combined with his Force powers to force the spirits into a corner for their escape if not anything else. She would not witness his attack further, however, as the last thing she saw was Dralin running to her side before falling unconscious.

Kazarelth's face remained remarkably serene as his body channeled more and more force power, far beyond what would have normally been possible for one of his skill level. The miasmic aura which had plagued the members of his group swirled at the edges of the power he projected, held at bay but stubbornly refusing to dissipate back into the nether reaches of oblivion.

"It always seems to come down to vengeful spirits and the like," a cool voice said, from no particular direction. With the reflexes borne of years of training, Dralin spun in the direction from which he detected a new force presence, his weapon free in his hand, twitching with anticipation at the new threat.

"Not such a good idea, unless you'd care to become a vengeful spirit yourself young Hunter," a tall humanoid shape detached itself from the nearest shadows and approached slowly from where it had observed the party of Dark Jedi. At once, Dralin recognized the presence to belong to Sato of the Tarentae.

"Why are you not with one of the search parties?" Dralin snapped impatiently. Sato tilted his head in thought for a brief momement, analyzing the Jedi Hunter before returning his attention to Kazarelth.

With a shrug, the Quaestor of Cestus answered, "I've been following you. Kazarelth is one of the few people I am not prepared to see lost on this excursion. Besides, the power which he now displays....fascinates me." Sato watched in rapt attention as Talismarr continued to advance slowly forward, cloaked in a malestrom of invisible energy.

"Your friend there, the Guardian seems to be in a spot of trouble," the Sith Quaestor observed in a voice devoid of expression. "My skills of necromancy are paled when compared to the true Masters of the Clan, but I may be able to help in her struggle."

Waiting for an affirmative, the Battlemaster bent down and placed a hand gently on Ronovoi's forehead. Utilizing a "grey" technique he long ago learned from his master, Sato plunged his awareness deeply into the force and channeled as much healing energy into Ronovoi's pysche as he dared, hoping to bolster her subconscious reserve of power. Satisified that she was stable for at least the moment, Sato turned his attention back to the crisis at hand. Recognizing the limits of his Necromancy skills were no match for the task at hand, he nonetheless sent tendrils of power toward his Omwati housemate, hoping that the strain wouldn't be the end of his comrade.

Bloodfyre swiftly stalked the halls in the here and now, but within the dreamscape, he roamed cautiously, carefully. The group he had been tracking were off duty mechanics who had been forced to make repairs and upgrades according to the specifications given to the ship and its commanders by the demanding, and sometimes cruel hand of Maxamillian von Oberst. None of them liked it. The Renegade and its crew were certainly a fine lot, and nothing to be scoffed at, but every time the Marshal visited one of his ships, he’d always found new ways to motivate the crews and increase their productivity. This was not the murderous motivation of Darth Vader in their midst, but at times, the crew still compared it to that.

The mechanics made their way to the off duty lounge, sat and ordered their drinks. The place was relatively empty. Those who weren’t on shift were either in their beds, or someone else’s. In the past few days of making changes, most were to busy and fatigued to do anything but collapse onto their mats.

Those who had recently entered the lounge sat at a large table, joining several others. In all, nine men and women sat trying to relieve the day’s tension and unwind. They started conversing, joking, and even discussing the possibility of starting up a good-natured game of sabacc. The doors to the off duty lounge opened, and without even having to look to verify, each of the nine at the table seemed to have a sense of who it was.

Maxamillian von Oberst was a physically impressive site. There weren’t many in the Imperial Navy, or Army, for that matter, who could stand up to the man’s size or strength. The Marshal glanced around the lounge slowly, almost as if taking note of who was within its walls, before stepping in slowly, and heading towards the bar. In addition to being an excellent officer, Oberst was also a liquor aficionado.

Around the table, Oberst’s presence was obviously bringing down the mood.

“I can’t believe he’s here.”

“Quiet. We don’t want you to end up in the brig again, Ordnan.”

“That last time was just because I was drunk and mouthy. I was never charged.”

“The last time you did it, it was only to the Comms Officer. Somehow, I doubt the Marshal will be as lenient in ensuring you’re charged.”

“Bugger off. I’m sick of him being here. The duty lounge is for the men and women who work on this ship. Not for those who come aboard for a ride whenever they decide they want to persecute the hard working men and women of the Empire for their jollies.”

“Ordnan, I said shut the he—“

“And I said to piss off, Dresnen—“

Everyone shut up quickly as a large, bulky shadow passed over the table. The Marshal had a look in his eyes that suggested death was coming quickly for anyone who did not decide it was best to leave the lounge and silence the commotion that was interrupting his drink.

“I trust everything here is quite done,” Oberst said softly.

“About as done as I am with you, mister high and mighty MarshGUGHK!”

Oberst’s enormous hand actually managed to snake out and grab the man by the throat and yank him across to the other side of the table where the Marshal stood without ruffling so much as an inch of the large man’s neatly pressed uniform. The drunken crewman, Ordnan by name, was going blue in the face and struggling in a frenzy, clawing at Oberst’s hand to try and get him to release his hold.

Sith blinked. Everything had suddenly gone dark. Confusion set in.

Where am I… the Sith Master thought to himself quietly. The place looked incredibly familiar, but different. This was the off duty lounge, and only the emergency lights were on. The room was empty, all except for a lone glass of some liquid strangely on the bar at a stool where Oberst had sat in the vision. The glass was still mostly full, as if so many years ago, the Marshal had been unable to finish his drink, and left it where it sat to remain for eternity.

The glass was no longer there in the next instant. The vision that Sith Bloodfyre had been pursuing was fading quickly, even if one single part of it remained to fade more slowly. Something was speaking to him. Or trying to, at any rate. What was being said, though, that was harder to discern. Oberst disciplining crew members and leaving a glass of whatever he’d had to drink made no sense.

“It’s almost as if someone is trying to throw me off the trail,” Sith mumbled softly. The Shaevalian’s eyes opened a bit wider, and the look on his face changed from mild confusion to understanding. Bloodfyre turned quickly to face the exit to the duty lounge, which stood open, and yet, blocked at the same time.

The Tarentae’s Grand Chamberlain was not alone.

For a long time, all Ronovi could see was white. For one moment, she thought she was dead, but she could feel tension still in her body even when she could not move. She could also faintly hear sounds from the outside, but they seemed far away as if she were drifting in another dimension. She half expected to see Anshar, but he never came. Instead, he heard a different voice break through the fog.

Focus.

It was if a weight was being lifted from her body as the white surrounding Ronovi seemed to clear. She could just barely decipher silhouettes in the darkened space, but she still felt as if she were in suspended animation. While the heaviness dissipated, the weakness remained.

FOCUS.

Though weariness and pain still took its toll, Ronovi could see clearer now as not two, but three people moved in the space. The mist was still there, just receding, as a person she didn't recognize raised a hand toward the shut cargo door. She heard the creak as it suddenly swung open, and light flooded in, temporarily blinding her, before she flitted in and out of consciousness as she felt herself lifted up and carried out of the room.

Then she heard the screams of anguish as whatever faced them made a move to follow, but the strain of Kazarelth's Force powers seemed to hold them back, as Ronovi faded out once more.

---

"Something tells me this isn't as easy as it seems," Archean muttered as Oberst strolled around the now empty and unopposing area. The blind Erinos used his senses to confirm that there was no longer a threat, but something still struck the air with a nasty vibe.

"Of course it's not as easy," Oberst growled, though he seemed quite satisfied with his recent bloodlust. "Those spirits we faced are the spirits of humans, pilots and crewmen. They have weakness even in death. But it's not over yet."

"Don't tell me there are stronger ghosts roaming this piece of scrap metal," Xayun groaned, but his brother shushed him. Oberst turned toward the empty corridor.

"Sorry if it's irritating, Xayun, but yes, there is someone or something more powerful on this ship...and from what I can tell, Anshar's playing around with them," he said.

Xayun looked at Oberst incredulously. They had all received the call from the Force that Anshar was dead, yet the Marshal's eyes blazed as if he knew something else had happened. Although the repeater would do nothing against any of the spirits, Oberst still felt comfortable with it on his shoulder as he moved toward the next ship's chamber.

"Where're you going?" Xayun demanded.

Oberst turned to glare at Xayun. "I'm going to find Dranik and Anshar's body. There's much more to these ghosts than our Consul or anyone else has led on."

With that, he strolled through the hallway, with Xayun and Archean following close behind.

---

Ronovi woke up in another corridor, peering up into the faces of two Omwati and one unrecognizable human face. Slowly she sat up, her vision blurring momentarily before speaking.

"Wh-where are we? How'd we get out?"

"Let's just say someone intervened," Dralin said, grinning. "Healed you up a bit, too. Kaz was pretty busy already holding those spirits back."

"Where'd they go?"

"Bigger fish to fry," Kazarelth said, smirking as Ronovi winced at the cliche. "But you may as well thank Sato."

"Sato?"

Ronovi looked up at the human, who nodded. "At your service," he said in a cold but calming voice.

"But how? How did he find us? How did he get in the hold?"

"Sith have always been able to be sneaky," Kazarelth said. "Let's just say I'm led by some top-notch people."

As he spoke, he extended his hand, which Ronovi gratefully grasped as he pulled her up. She still felt wobbly on her feet and stumbled a bit before Dralin grabbed her arm.

"Easy, Ronovi. You still need rest. Sato only got you stable." He then turned to Sato and Kazarelth. "So I guess he's tagging along, then?"

Sato raised and lowered one shoulder. "Only if you need me...I must have proved useful, after all."

"Thank you," Ronovi managed to say. "But...what do we do now?"

"The best we can do is probably head back to the control room," Dralin replied. "We obviously didn't find much where we headed, so it's probably good for us to retrace our steps."

"And meet up with the others," Kazarelth added as he moved back in the direction where they had come from. "For all we know, we could have more information on everything...including Anshar.

Anshar. Ronovi remembered as she limped alongside the others with Dralin aiding her in her walking. They had received the obvious answer: these spirits could be fended off. But there had to be more to this ghost ship. And someone was finding out.

---

Suspended in the netherworld was a strange feeling, but Anshar had quickly accustomed to it as he drifted through the ship's corridors alongside Talitha. While the now more physical-looking apparitions looked upon him coldly, none dared to intervene in the two's travel, they passed several quarters, but the exit seemed much farther away than he remembered.

"I have been on this ship for many years now," he suddenly heard Talitha say, "but never have I expected such a large group to enter it."

"Then who has?" Anshar asked.

"An explorer. Rather frivolous in nature, I have to say. He was only interested in making us horrific than the subtle mystery that I am," Talita said.

"Then what are you?"

Talitha paused, then quietly replied, "One who is invisible to the galaxy. I've been rumored to appear in many battles and conflicts, but since then, I've resorted to being here. But now my time is done, and I wish to depart."

"To find your king?" prompted Anshar.

Talita looked at him, though her expression did not change. Her aura was peculiar to Anshar, even as he drifted as a fellow spirit; it was like nothing he had felt before, as if he faced an ageless Deity despite her stature and delicate features. Then, without replying to him, she slowly but unexpectedly disappeared through one of the durasteel walls. Anshar stared momentarily before Talitha's voice echoed from the other side.

"Do not forget your newfound etherealness. Follow."

Anshar moved toward the wall and was startled to find himself on the other side. The room seemed familiar now, as if they were much closer to leaving the ship. Talitha looked upon him before saying, "So you can phase, at the very least. Now let us continue, so we can both receive what we desire."

With that, she spun in the thick air before moving down the corridor toward the presumed exit. All that Anshar could do, in his present state, was trail behind her.

Dranik remained near Anshar's body. Raiju, Merlance, and a few others had arrived, coming across the scene as they had followed the Consul and Proconsul, who had, in turn, been trying to follow Bloodfyre.

Evant Taelyan stood with his back near a wall, his eyes fixated on Anshar’s now still body. He could feel his heart beating but felt nothing beyond that. He was close enough to the encounter to bring a fear to his own heart of a similar fate. He had almost felt it as if happening to him, a foreign feeling that quickly passed and now filled with silence.

Whispered conversations of what had happened, filled with fear and concern about Anshar's condition, but their appearance alone gave away their fear. It was palpable among several of the journeyman.

Evant however did not let his fear become illogical, and he followed it to his biggest concern at the moment. Who held the cards that had control over his life? There were far worse fates than having your soul violently ripped from your body.

Quickly pulling his comlink from his robes he dialed it in, “Rekio, what systems do you have access on?”

Rekio’s response held a tone of agitation, “All communication channels, security cameras and history and I’ve gotten many maps of the ship but not everything.”

“What about the engineering systems, engines, gravity, maintenance protocols… life support?”

The reply was delayed but came back with a tone of concern, “Life support is good for the time being, though the system is still independent from our control. Other than that, nothing.”

“We need more control over life support. I’ll lead a team to get it if I have to but we need it.”

* * *

Oberst moved swiftly down the corridor of the ships towards Anshar. Mostly to ensure the barrier he created behind him had held as he proceeded to the bridge. The rush of dark energy he used to destroy the spirits was exhilarating but hardly something he could sustain from all sides, and there were plenty more after him.

They came up against the barrier, which while invisible was easily detectable by the Dark Jedi. Oberst knelt and observed its strength through the force for a moment.

Xayun let out a sigh realizing what it meant, “Oh great, now I have to be here.”

* * *

Elols followed Evant in a quick backtrack down the hall, and then down a side corridor and out of sight of the rest of the group. His master Raiju had volunteered him to accompany the Dark Jedi Knight to engineering. In part due to his recent successes as his apprentice, but per the rest of the group for the more stereotypical reason that he’s a Bothan.

He had also worked with Evant in the same Battle Team as part of House Tridens in the past so the two knew they could work well together. With his skills as a Bothan, and Evant’s skills as a previous agent in the EH Intelligence Division the two would be able to accomplish everything they needed to secure engineering. He also felt confident in Evant’s abilities as a Watcher to keep him safe from any spirits they encountered. Even though his sword and blaster at his side made him a bit more comfortable, he knew they would be useless against any spirits hell bent on stopping them.

As the two moved down the corridor towards the center spine of the ship, they began to feel a cold painful absence of sound and life hanging over them. As they walked further down the corridor it became harder to see. Evant pulled out his lightsaber and ignited it; the purple glow filled the hallway around them. The hum of the saber was a recognized and welcome change to the unnerving feeling of being followed and watched in silence. The confidence and spirits of the two rose as they walked on together.

* * *

“You always had to be here, the absence of this barrier would not have changed that,” Oberst responded.

Xayun sighed, “Whatever.”

Oberst pulled out his comlink with a grin, “Continuation of my earlier plans, I intend to stand on the bridge in command of this ship.”

* * *

Evant Taelyan could feel the hate and anger in the air on the ship, but it felt distant to him. It had obviously been preoccupied elsewhere. He and Elols reached the spine of the ship to a turbo-lift. The two took a quick glance at one another and let out a half laugh.

Either of them could easily have hacked the terminal to the lift, especially with the security overridden and they both knew it but the Bothan was quick to hop in and start unscrewing the terminal from the wall.

“Elols wait; someone or something has a physical presence in the system and on this ship. Even if we hack, or simply take this turbo-lift, they will know we’re here.”

“I’ll just have to do a little something extra then.”

“What?”

“You’ll see. Just sit tight for a minute and keep that lightsaber nearby for some light.”

While he worked Evant stayed on the defensive and felt for spirits. He was ready to put up a barrier of defense at a moment’s notice and put the skills Sith taught him during his initiation as a Watcher to use. After a few moments Elols stood up with a big smile on his face, “Done.”

“Done with what?”

“You’ll see, get in.”

Evant hesitantly stepped into the turbo-lift followed by Elols, where he pressed a button as soon as he stepped in. As he did so, every turbo-lift on the entire ship began to move either up or down. Theirs was heading straight for bottom floor where they would have a long walk to engineering control.

[OOC: I had to edit this a bit. The ship's life support is still working, or else we'd all have been dead by now. This was done for clarity. I changed the scene a bit to the others arriving on the scene]

Talitha’s movements struck Anshar as very odd. She did not seem to have any true direction to her movements, but, then again, Anshar did not know this ship as well as she did. Something about the girl struck Anshar as very odd; well, actually, a lot of things did, but something kept gnawing at him, as if he’d been in a similar presence before.

Glancing around him, Anshar noticed that he could see the other spirits on the ship even through the walls. However, unlike the misty amorphous entities that had attacked the clan, he could see the spirits as if they were fully alive. They had humanoid shapes and walked about much like the crew would have during their lives.

“Where are we going?” asked Anshar. He had a desire to return to his body. Even though his new form was somewhat intriguing, the Crystal of Tears inhabitants had long ago expressed a desire to gain new physical bodies. Even being unsure of how they could possess a body, Anshar was certain that having his spirit outside his own body was like leaving the front door open, as well as the back door and all the windows. “I’d prefer to get back to my body.”

“Your body cannot help me in this moment,” said Talitha. “Your enemy is now mine and you must engage her in this form. Take me off this ship and help me search for my king, and your body shall be safely returned.”

“Can’t you stop her?” asked Anshar, ignoring the repeated phrase.

“In a life as long as mine, the Force begins to grow weary of being called upon,” replied Talitha. “Perhaps one day the Force will abandon me altogether, exposing to those that hunt me.”

“Hunt?” asked Anshar.

"I am hunted by that which I should know but do not,” said Talitha. “Now you know why I am on this ship of the damned. I am running as well as searching.” Anshar did not reply. Talitha kept adding more and more to her story every time she spoke to him. “I must find my king for only he can truly save me from those that hunt me.” As they continued on their journey through the ship, Anshar noticed that the spirits of the Renegade now seemed to ignore him. They certainly paid no heed to Talitha.

“You’ve been honing your skills.” Kazarelth muttered quietly to Sato. The Corsair’s claustrophobic interiors had strengthened the bonds between each one of its new crew, and the two men were no strangers to that. Sato was a passive Necromancer, preferring to engage the enemy with his intense yet controlled anger and the direct Force powers it unleashed.
“I thought I heard you scoff when I told you I’d follow you.” Sato’s lips twisted into a smile.
Talismarr returned the warped smile with his own brand and bowed lightly, quaffing off a vial of swirling mist. His spent body was instantly reinvigorated as the stolen Life added to his own. The Watcher contemplated for a moment, and then set out with Sato towards the control room. The Glaidans were ahead, the Hunter’s lightsaber lighting the dim way.

They dragged their way back; all thoughts of returning to their home system were lost in the terrible and fantastic melee they just witnessed. Ronovi and Dralin were still pursuing their hushed discussion pertaining to Anshar’s ‘departure’. The Journeymen, still infants when it came to the intricacies of Life and Death, did not take the withdrawal of Anshar’s spirit very easily, while the Cestusians were conversing ‘on a higher plane’, as they fondly called it, telepathically exchanging impressions rather than mapping them onto words.
They walked their way back in what could be called complete silence, yet the two could feel an eerie clicking come from nowhere in particular. The Omwati frowned after its second occurrence. He stopped abruptly.

And slowly, as if someone had made Time itself slow, he fell on his knees, and very slowly knelt with his hands gripping the hard floor for support. He looked up at the horrified Battlemaster, pain showing in his eyes and his neck as he mouthed the word “help”. Sato touched him and instantly recoiled. Kazarelth’s skin had become icy, as if he was nothing but a corpse floating aimlessly about space. As Sato’s gaze shifted to the Force-planes, he could see parasitic tendrils enslaving Talismarr’s, encroaching upon his larynx and his stomach. He traced the tendrils back to Kazarelth’s cloak, and he swiftly extracted an item. The mysterious orb shined more than ever as he detected the gleefully dancing spirit inside. Its powers made him flinch as he dropped the globe, and just as it landed with a thud, he heard a faint laugh and a rush of screams emanating from every direction.
Hundreds of spirits. And one weakened Necromancer was just as delicious as a weak spirit was for the Necromancer. They were converging like vultures drawn to death.

Ronovi screamed as the orb zoomed past her. It now seemed to have its own mind, as if its bonds were broken. With well-endowed sadism, it had infected the Krath Knight, yet its purpose was to do something more. To its original warden.

--

Sith needed his entire prowess. He withdrew his powers from most of his enchantments. The Master Watcher had been in wait. His instinct and skill told him that he was not alone, yet it was almost as if the person was just beyond his vision. Like a star that could be viewed only through averted vision. He could feel the nebulous shape of the observer smoothen and stiffen.

He was hooded after the fashion of the neutral Force-Sensitives. It was definitely not a physical manifestation, yet his form looked solid. Bloodfyre could sense the eyeless sockets staring hard at him. His axe was forbearing in the way it was lightly held at his side. Its head did not shine.
The Shaevalian stirred, as he sensed a clot of things happening without the room. However his mind did not stray beyond this call.

--

“You and you, follow that cursed thing! And call for help!” Sato cried harshly. His right palm was on the Omwati’s nape heating with the aid of the Force. Yet all his powers were focused on the oncoming spirits. He singed many repeatedly. They screeched and fell back, only to recover and redouble their attack. In a trice, he and the fallen Dark Jedi Knight were surrounded. Ancient screams and void echoes circulated through the corridor, punctured by the tepid footfalls of the two Gladians. Tavisaen’s heart leaped ahead as she followed the rolling orb. It tested her and raced her, changing direction with no specific purpose. It crashed into solid walls now and then allowing the Guardian enough time to come close enough to touch it. Only Dralin’s shout of “don’t!” stopped her from acquiring the curse.
She was stricken.

--

Anshar felt the spirits leave around him, just as he saw the slightest hint of fear on Talitha’s unresponsive face. She turned to face the soul of the Consul.
“One of his minions is here. You would know.”
“The Hunter’s? How?”
“Suffice to say, he planted his artefacts, and planned his game well. Only my King can save me now.”

The barrier was an intriguing creation. Archean had never seen anything like it. Only in tomes and hear say has the young Sith heard of such things being created. The last person to cast one was Master Zero, now Archean knows there are more powerful Jedi who can bend the force in such a way and Oberst, is definitely one of them.

Archean stayed back and inspected the surroundings while Xayun and Oberst moved ahead. Archean could feel the spirits around him, yet they didn't make a move this time. It's as if they were waiting for another moment to strike.

Seeing enough of the empty rooms and corridors, the Battlemaster made his way to the Bridge where Oberst was. The footsteps of the Human cracked as he passed over steel grates, atop the control room.

“Xayun, move to that console and tell me what you see.”
“Nothing, it's not on, just like every other console you told me to look at.” Xayin whined.

Oberst's mouth morphed into a smirk. Feelings were coming back to him, feelings of power commanding the ship he once did tickled senses all over him. Oberst paced to the other side of the Bridge, right in front of the huge window.

Xayun rolled his eyes and got up from one of the consoles down in the control room.

“We done here, yet?” He slung his rifle over his shoulder as he fixed his clothes,
“Not until Archean arrives.”

A moment later the Sith passed through the blast doors onto the Bridge.

Without hesitation, Archean glanced at Oberst “What's the plan now, Marshal?” Asked the Corellian.

Aboard the Doomsday, Adriel, a young Acolyte, meditated in the comm. Room. Being briefed on the situation of the MC80 and knowing that the mission ahead would be arduous, she prepared herself. Under the tutelage of Battlemaster Archean Erinos Tarentae she was always instructed to fully prepare herself for whatever lay ahead, even if it was the most simplest of tasks.

Her consciousness was aroused by the beeping of her comm. link. Picking it up, she recognized it was Archean broadcasting from the MC80.

“Everything alright over there?” It hissed.

“Yes. And you? How are you faring?” Replied the Togruta

“Well, things have quietened down somewhat, although we did have a scare with some psychotic spirits.” Jested Archean.

“I bet you ran away didn't you?.” Laughed Adriel

“Me? Run? The great Archean? The Blind Swordmaster?! Defender of Tarentum and all that is bad in the Universe?! Never!” He Joked.

Adriel stared blankly at the communcator.

“...Don't look at me like that!” Barked Archean.

“...How'd you know I was looking at you like that?”

“I know all and see all.” Archean declared triumphantly.

“That is why you're blind.”

“...I hate you.” mumbled the Human

“You love me, shut up.” Snapped Adriel. She glanced around to see a few officers stare at her awkwardly. Upon seeing that their staring had caught her attention, the Officers hastily went back to their tasks (some fumbling over their controls in the process).

“Aaaaanyway.” He continued. “Are you ready to meet me here?”

“Whenever you are ready for me, I shall leave.”

“Excellent. Gather your things and meet Donos at the Hanger. I'll meet you both shortly.”

“As you wish”. The communication ended.

Adriel began packing her belongings.

I am posting on behalf of Donos cause his account is still unable to post here for some reason.



“Yes, Apprentice, I'll meet them there and make sure they arrive safely.” The robed figure turned around and headed out the door.


***


On the Doomsday, Balia was walking around the halls trying to calm himself down. Now an Acolyte, he is one of the Apprentices to Archean Erinos Tarentae. Before his Master left for the MC80, Balia was told to stand by in case he was needed.
Officers and Sergeants were rushing around the place, the Dark Jedi looked confused. Donos stopped an Officer and asked him what the commotion was.
“The Consul is missing.” Reported the man.

“So that was the disturbance I felt.” Balia said to himself.

He turned away from the Officer as his COM beeped, he already knew it was his Master Archean's signal.
“Yes master, I shall gather my things and meet with Adriel right away.” Balia said.

When the transmission was over Balia picked up his gear and sprinted to meet up with Adriel.
He found her waiting for him at the entrance.

“What took you so long” Came Adriel's remark when he stopped right in front of her.

“ Sorry I was on the other side of the ship and I tried to get here but the troops just kept getting in the way.” Replied Donos. Adriel shrugged and began to walk to the hanger to get on board the ship that will transport them to the MC80.

The bridge was abuzz with officers looking deeply at the on goings with the elders of the clan, as the door slid open to reveal a tall robed figure bearing a limp in his right leg.

“Ma`ar good of you to join us on the bridge, I take it your flight was a quiet one?” A senior officer jested as the Kaleesh walked over to the communication panel.

“Not entirely, I was keeping track on the mission aboard that MC80, anything else new to report that I might have missed?” Ma`ar sluggishly stated.

“No sir, nothing new yet. I would probably go so far as for you to check in with your Quaestor though.”

“Yes, it’s been a few days since I have talked to Odin.”

“Are you planning on going over there sir?”

“Not unless they need my help, I figured on letting the elders handle this mission. Normally I would be so bold and charge over there but if they need reinforcements I will happily go, I just don’t get this whole ship just appearing out of thin air like it had.” Ma`ar scoffed knowing this wouldn’t go down well.

With that the Kaleesh strolled over to the bridges view port and watched as the MC80 hung there, reaching out to the force trying to see what the Battle Lord felt…nothing but confusion and hatred were all around that ship.

“Odin……This is Ma`ar”

Nothing but static came through the open comlink, Ma`ar paced around the bridge of the Doomsday, before he left the bridge he turned to a communication officer and said, “Have Odin contact me if he checks in, I’m heading to my quarters and gather a few things if the elders or Odin wish for me to join this madness I will be ready.”

With that the door to the bridge opened and the Kaleesh was out the door and down the hallway to a lift.

Entering the lift, Ma`ar grabbed his comlink once again and opened it to his old apprentice Odin once again.

“Odin, this is Ma`ar do you copy? I will be ready within the hour if you or anyone needs me over there. I will grab the first shuttle I can find that is flight worthy in the hangar.”

Still the comlink was emitting static.

As the Battle master clipped his comlink to his belt, it chimmed . Figuring that it was his Quaestor and old apprentice Ma`ar grabbed at it and answered.

“Yes Odin.” Ma`ar spoke as he rode the turbo lift down to his quarters

“Odin?....ummm Ma`ar this is Archean, I am having my two apprentices heading towards the hangar I would like if you could escort them to the MC80 and then meet up with me aboard.”

“Sure, I will be there shortly, I’m just getting to my quarters and will grab some gear and be down there shortly. Ma`ar out.”

With that the Kaleesh’s paced quickened as the doors to the lift opened and he was out and down the corridor towards his quarters.
Entering the quarters gave off a smell of staleness, as he hadn’t been in the room for some time. After rummaging through his belongs stored in a locker, Ma`ar retrieved his satchel of Crystasteel Balls, lightsaber, bryar pistol, and a E-11 rifle. Turning around and heading out the room, Ma`ar made way to the Hangar bay to meet up with two members of Tarentum he had yet to encounter.
After making the lift the doors slid shut, giving the sith a few moments to focus on the present, and sling his arms on his body.

The doors gave way to a busy hangar bay with a shuttle being prepped as he looked around, not knowing who the two younger members were but figured they would be there shortly or could already be in the shuttle for all he knew.

As Ma`ar entered the shuttle, two very young tarenti were sitting silently in the shuttle. Their faces were shocked to see such a creature stroll into the shuttle. Ma`ar sat down next to the pair, and remarked. “Such a lovely day for chaos isn’t it.”

The pair looked puzzled and turned back to the Kaleesh, and spoke “Sir, I am Balia Donos and this is Adriel Ferore.”

“Well I guess I will be the one escorting you two to Archean then?” Ma`ar looked at the pair, wondering what Archean was thinking about when he agreed to bring these two young members along.

“Yes sir, you are. Archean is waiting for us aboard the MC80.” Donos said

Adriel sat in the chair next to Donos and shrugged as the door to the shuttle closed and the engines fired up, lifting the shuttle in the air and out of the Doomsday

Saryana chuckled softly as she slowly but gracefully walked across the ship's floor, navigating the ship and observing the Dark Jedi's small mishaps. She had eyed two of them shuffling into a turbolift, then amused herself at the sight of an Epicanthix and an Omwati chasing after a strange orb as two others fought off the hungry ghosts of the crew. Yet the powers of the Clan were evident, both in the aura within that orb and in the power held by the hated Oberst.

She hissed softly to herself. The Marshal's attack had been enough to drive off many weak spirits into the abyss, but it would not be enough against those who had broken free of the Crystal of Tears. Soon the six others would be joining her as she whispered their names and waited for them to be awakened and heed her call.

She sauntered silently toward the bridge just to see the Marshal pacing upon it with his two cronies. Saryana knew that he had a lot of nerve, but the fact that he was acting like he already won was too much for her. Plus the silly little barrier he had put up amused her greatly; she was much more powerful than that. She had already sent Anshar flying off around the ship, so with a little help, she could deal with the others.

A presence from afar let her know that Anshar's body was still warm and that his comrade was still protecting it. She murmured strange words under her breath before disappearing into a swirl of mist, as the cackling of laughter echoed on all sides. The seven's intervention would begin.

---

Ronovi had lost all recollection of where she was on the ship as she chased the orb through the corridors. Its aura almost tended to draw her in, but the voice of Dralin as he trailed behind her stopped her from touching it every time. She had attempted to call for help just as Sato had commanded, but Anxiety flooded through her as she ran, and she wondered where Kazarelth was now and what was happening to him.

The darkness feels so unnatural, yet so familiar...

As she turned the corner, she remembered watching Kazarelth on the Incarnate One as he palmed the orb, its aura pulsing from between his fingers. Why he had it was one question; where he had gotten it was another. Still, Ronovi stifled them as she moved, only to find it crashing against a bolted door and remaining suspended in the air. She watched it quietly, feeling her skin grow cold, as Dralin caught up with her.

"Don't touch it," he panted. "Whatever you do, don't touch it."

They both stared at it silently, afraid to move for fear of what the thing would do. It merely floated there, however, emitting a soft but ethereal glow in its wake. Ronovi breathed deeply. "What is it?"

"Something Kazarelth should not have had in his possession."

As Dralin spoke, a sudden shudder went through the ship's hull as the orb suddenly flashed with a violent energy, shooting straight at the two Journeymen. Both threw themselves upon the floor as the orb zipped away, but they made no move to chase after it as another tremor went through the Renegade. All at once, it seemed as if a thousand voices cried out in fear before a deep breath raced through the halls, and then silence for a moment.

Dralin rose first, helping Ronovi up just as they saw Sato approaching them, Kazarelth leaning against his arm. The latter was unresponsive, his eyes glazed as Sato held him up. The three looked at each other before speaking.

"What do you think that was?" Dralin asked.

Sato lowered his head. "The ship is more alive than we imagined. More spirits are gathering than there are being destroyed. And something is beginning to drive them forward."

"Armies?" Ronovi asked.

"It may prove much worse than that."

Just as Sato mentioned that, a sharp, menacing laugh broke out as if from all sides. Ronovi braced herself for the worst, but nothing came. All the group did now was wait and listen.

---

"Did everyone else feel that?" Raiju demanded as the shakes of the ship reached the area where the higher-ups had gathered. Dranik had raised his head from Anshar's body, his eyes shifting suspiciously.

"Yeah. We all did," he muttered. He rose slowly, gripping the hilt of his lightsaber tightly but not activating it.

The small group looked at the Proconsul curiously; as he was now in command, they expected an order from him. They received none, however, as a distorted but familiar voice - at least in Dranik's ears - rang out as if through the walls.

"I believe we all are done playing these silly games. It's been fun testing all of you, but now the time has come for true action. I know you all feel so powerful, but the balance is wavering. You will all face the trial of endurance.

"In a few minutes, I will not be alone. Soon, we will be leading your enemies against you in swarms and marching troops. We will enforce all power, and we will not hesitate to destroy you. Your Consul was just a warning; now you have no other chances.

"This ship will not remain sturdy for long. Like everything else, it will fall to pieces. Make your choices wisely, Tarenti...who will flee like cowards, and who will remain here to face their fate? The decision is yours...the time is moving."

Then it seemed as if her voice was countered by several others, all different in pitch, texture, and volume. Dranik attempted to identify all of them and counted at least six, maybe seven other voices. Those sealed in the Crystal of Tears that Anshar had spoken of were speaking all at once, and the words became garbled and frightening until silence befell the group once more. There was nothing now but the strange hum of the lights from above.

No one spoke for a while.

"Dranik..." Merlance whispered. "What do we do?"

Dranik thought for a moment, trying to mentally relocate everyone on the ship. Rekio obviously must still be at the controls, and Elols and Evant had gone to check the stability of the life support. Several had gone to engineering, a few others, including Oberst, to the bridge. He remembered others but could not recall where they were now; he knew that some Journeymen had gone into the deeper parts of the ship while Bloodfyre, in particular, had most likely roamed out of reach for now. Drawing them all together would be foolish, but leaving them there to wander was foolish as well. Then again, they all must have been able to hear the threat...and they all had to act.

"There's no use in waiting," Dranik said, bending down and lifting up Anshar's body. "We must get our Consul to a safe location. Rekio must be communicated with, and all members relocated. Tell them to prepare. If need be, we'll double the number in our search groups."

"You make it sound so easy," Raiju murmured as Dranik turned to him.

"It won't be, trust me," the Proconsul said. "We must get to work."

He looked upon Anshar's body again, trying to figure out what the Consul would do in this situation.

---

The disturbance had been felt from a suitable distance, and even those upon the Doomsday became more alert. Apollo eyed the departing transport before looking at Troutrooper.

"Who's going out there? Who ordered them to?" he demanded.

"Two young members, I believe, escorted by Ma'ar. Archean requests their presence," Troutrooper replied.

Apollo gritted his teeth. "It's of no use to send greens into the fray. It's time, Troutrooper...we need to help, and we won't be able to do it by just watching the screens."

"After that tremor we felt? You're joking," Troutrooper said, shaking his head. But Apollo remained firm.

"That's the Incarnate Two they're on, right? The Incarnate One should have returned to its bay. I'm going, if you want to come with me. Korras can take control of the monitors."

Troutrooper thought for a moment. He had no immediate desire to venture into that madness, but the situation was becoming more desperate. He watched as Apollo disappeared from the room, and he hurried after him. What it would lead to, however, was beyond his imagination for the time being.

The disturbances felt very strange to Anshar in his new, though hopefully temporary, form. He did not feel them as he once had: there was no physical connection- no shudder, no shiver down the spine, or anything of the sort. Yet, Anshar still sensed it all the same, reminding him that he was still very much connected to the Force. Anshar followed Talitha around a corner; she had suddenly changed directions for some reason. Abruptly, he came face to face with a member of the Renegade’s crew; or, rather, as close to face to face was feasible in this form.

“Ah, Master Jedi,” said the spirit. “I have been looking for you.” The spirit’s uniform bore the rank of Lieutenant Commander. “I must speak with you.” Anshar relaxed slightly; this certainly was not the reaction he had expected.

“Trust this one, but no others,” said Talitha.

“I am Lieutenant Commander Stevenson,” said the spirit. Anshar remembered the name from when Oberst had mentioned it before.

“The computer said you were still alive,” said Anshar.

“Really? Well, I can only surmise that someone forgot to update the records,” replied Stevenson. “Regardless, Master Jedi, time is of the essence. Come this way.” Stevenson led Anshar and Talitha to a small conference room. Talitha seemed very uneasy, but chose to follow. Upon entering, Stevenson took a seat as if he were still alive, but unlike what one might expect of a ghost, he did not sink through the chair. He invited Anshar and Talitha to sit down. Talitha did with no problem, but Anshar felt a bit strange in doing so. He started to sink, but Talitha reached out and, somehow, grabbed his hand. Anshar found himself pulled back to the regular level, and it actually felt as if he was sitting in the chair physically. He glanced over at Talitha when she released her hold. Her face seemed a bit flushed, as if she had to put forth a decent level of effort to do just that.

“Now, Master Jedi, I believe you are well aware of the situation aboard this vessel,” said Stevenson. Anshar nodded.

“Admittedly, I’ve never seen or heard anything like it before,” Anshar said.

“I’m not surprised. Here is the true story of how we got like this: the vessel was, officially, lost during the Minos Campaign. Unofficially, the vessel was severely damaged with heavy casualties, and we were taken to receive repairs. We were told that we would be receiving new orders after they repaired the vessel. I had heard rumors of a “Ghost force” being created: seemingly dead ships attacking randomly. But, those were only rumors. Well, whatever our true purpose, it was decided that the ship had become a liability after the Jedi split from the Emperor’s Hammer. To this day, I cannot fathom why they thought that, but as I understand it, the Executive Officer was insane.”

“That still doesn’t explain why the spirits on this ship are our enemies,” said Anshar.

“Well, Commander Oberst left a rather bloody and disturbing mark on this ship,” replied Stevenson. “For whatever reason in that strange thing you call the Force, the anger and hatred towards the Commander remained behind. And it wasn’t just those he killed; some blamed him for their deaths, or the deaths of their friends, on bombing runs. The Commander’s defection from the Emperor’s Hammer, with the rest of you, only hardened them. However, the vessel remained in drydock, and the spirits that you now see on this vessel weren’t really here. Even when the young lady here came aboard, no one noticed her. It took me about three whole months to even take notice of her.”

“Then where did they come from?”

“The seven Jedi spirits appeared one day,” replied Stevenson. “Where they came from, why they came, or even how they came, I don’t know. They took the collective rage of the crew and somehow summoned them into this accursed existence. They promised revenge on Oberst in return for help in eliminating Clan Tarentum. Without those seven spirits, this would never have happened.”

“So we need only eliminate those seven spirits,” said Anshar.

“But at what cost?” asked Talitha. “When one calls forth the power to truly destroy a spirit, they risk destroying themselves.” If the comment interrupted Stevenson in any way, he did not show it.

“Master Jedi, the Renegade crew is, at its heart, made up of military men and women. They are loyal to their commanding officers, even if they disagree. They may protest, but in the end, they will follow. If we can reassert control over them, we can break the control of the seven spirits. I may be able to do it, but I will need your help in getting to the bridge. The seven Jedi have barred me from it, as well as other key areas. They tolerate my existence, but they despise me for it.” Though the spirits on the ship possessed every ability ever imagined, it appeared that even their movements could be restricted. It was, Anshar noted, a potentially useful distinction.

“Alright Commander,” said Anshar. “We’ll go to the bridge. Unless my guide has other plans.”

“To be a guide, one must know where they are going,” replied Talitha, staring off in the distance. Then she turned her attention to Anshar, her eyes peering deep into him. “If this is the course you choose, then I shall do all I can for you. Be warned, however, that the longer you remain outside your body, the harder it will be to return, and the more permanent any damage will be. We will face more than one enemy.”

The young girl’s words hung in the air. But, it was not the warning that troubled Anshar the most. Her sudden change in demeanor, her now complete lack of concern over what they had sensed and felt before meeting Stevenson, concerned Anshar. He needed to figure out just what this girl really was. And help stop a ship full of spirits from ripping his clan apart.

Incarnate One passed as Two entered into open space, Ma`ar sat at the ready as his two new clan mates sat idly.

It was a short flight to the Renegade, as the shuttle prepaired to enter the hangar, the sith’s comlink chimed.

“Ma`ar this is Odin, what is your status?”

“Im heading to the Renegade escorting Archean’s two apprentices. I should be aboard the MC80 shortly.”

“Master, be aware that the ship is hostile. There is some kind of spirit aboard and weapons do not phase them.” Odin remarked.

“I will be aware of that, however I will be bring ammunition either way.” Ma`ar snapped.

“Always prepared aren’t you master.” Odin laughed.

“Always, Ma`ar out”

With the comlink secured at his waist the Kaleesh stood up, adjusting straps on his pack. Ma`ar stood at the ready as the shuttle landed with a slight thud.

”Alright you two follow me, and stay close. Archean will have my hide if something happens to you.” Ma`ar said with a bit of uncertainty.

As the ramp lowered the force gave way of a eerie sense to the Battle Lord that he had felt in sometime. Hatred encompassed everywhere and a sense of someone or something watching as the three disembarked into the Hangar bay.

Grabbing his comlink, Ma`ar sent out a link to his old apprentice Archean.

”Archean, I am aboard the Renegade with your two apprentices. What is your location?”

“Ma`ar good of you to join the fray, Im with the Marshal, and Xayun on the bridge. When you leave the hangar take a left and down the hall to the lift and they come to the bridge. Also note that if you encounter a spirit in the form of green mist. Shield yourself and my apprentices, and hope for the best. See you when you get here.”

As the comlink went silent Ma`ar looked around to the young pair and laughed. Waiving his hand to follow the trio set out of the hangar and down the corridor to the lift.

---

“Marshal, we will have quests in a few moments.” Archean said turning to Oberst.

With a nod from the elder, the Marshal seemed fixed on a view port to even make a second notice of what was said. His sense's were elsewhere at the moment.

Out of the corner of his eye, Oberst watched as Ma'ar approached, limping as he led Adriel and Donos toward bridge. Archean looked more than happy to see the two as they shuffled toward him, Xayun, and the Marshal.

"Master Archean, it's all so tense where the others are," Donos said. "Everyone's moving so quickly, reassembling. Dranik, too, seems seems anxious. The whole group appears to be under pressure."

"Tension is a better way to handle situations. The next step is utter panic," Oberst muttered as he looked out beyond the bridge again.

"What do you mean?" Adriel demanded.

"You did not feel what we just felt? We've just received a warning from those who roam this ship. Dranik says that it's the seven Dark Jedi that were once sealed in the Crystal of Tears, hoping to trample us with the remnants of the Renegade."

"The Crystal of Tears?"

"Some story that Anshar apparently told us," Xayun grumbled. "It doesn't matter. What matters is that whoever they are, all they want is to kill us. That's it."

"So what do we do, then?" the Kaleesh asked. "Stand here and wait?"

"So it may seem that's what we're doing," Oberst replied, chuckling. But in his mind, he was doing nothing but preparing. "For now, I want these two to stick with Archean. Ma'ar, I recommend you take your place among the others in the control room. They're currently catching up with anyone still wandering the ship."

Ma'ar nodded before limping away from the bridge as Oberst turned to Xayun and Archean, who both were solemn-faced. The two Acolytes looked almost confused, still pondering over how their higher-ups seemed to be preparing for the ship to be bombed. In the other chambers and in the control room, people were moving quickly as they prepared for potential battle. All they could do now was wait for the order.

---

"Have you communicated with everyone?" Dranik asked Rekio as Raiju and Merlance carefully moved Anshar's body to a suitable corner. There was no time to look for any living quarters on the ship; time was running out, and fast, before the ghosts' threat would be enforced.

"I've just communicated with Elols and Evant," Rekio replied. "They say they're still overlooking the life support system, but it's difficult to gain total control over it. As for Bloodfyre, he doesn't appear to be responding."

"Is he okay?"

"He's Bloodfyre. He went off by himself, he may as well be able to take care of himself."

"Anyone else?"

"A few more. Sato Tarentae's been tagging along Kazarelth Talismarr and two Journeymen. I've just communicated with them. They're heading over to where we are as soon as they can."

"Good. Then we'll both have to prepare now." Dranik turned and watched as Raiju, Merlance, and several others moved through the rooms, double checking to see if everyone was preparing for the worst. Now, the Proconsul realized, it was his turn to do the same.

---

"Am I the only one who thinks we're in deep trouble here?" Ronovi demanded as she raced behind Dralin. Sato was up ahead, carrying the frail Kazarelth as he ran.

"It should only be a few more minutes before we reach where the others are," Dralin croaked. "Kazarelth should be safe. Sato says he's already becoming stable."

"And the thing that weakened him? You don't suppose it's still flying around, looking for its next target?" Ronovi growled. "I mean, it's bad enough that it's taken down the Necromancer of our group."

"You know," Dralin growled, "I'm a necromancer, too."

But deep down, he knew that Kazarelth was a strong Watcher, and while Dralin could sense the enemy, he still had much to learn when facing it. Besides, having to think about the answer to where the orb had gone worried both him and Ronovi; he could tell in the Epicanthix's eyes. However, he knew it was in Ronovi's nature to worry therefore occasionally act irrationally due to such anxiety, and he smiled at his own resistance to such desperation.

Ronovi was beginning to lose hope in ever finding the others when she thought she heard voices coming from another room. Quickly she darted down the corridor to see movement from within, and the sound of Sato's voice along with another brought such a bout of relief that she almost felt like crying.

"Raiju! Thank Goodness we've arrived on time."

"And not a moment too soon," the former Tridens Quaestor mumbled solemnly. "Come in, quickly. I suppose that makes another we must tend to."

Ronovi knew he was referring to Kazarelth as she and Dralin stepped into the room. She did not say a word, only watch as her higher-ups, including her Proconsul, move in and out of rooms as they attempted to secure everyone. She swallowed painfully, looked at Dralin, and waited for nothing else but orders.

The shuttle ride was a smooth one, as it usually is. The door leading to the personnel ramp opened as the landing struts made an muffled impact on the deck. Within moments KAP Apollo, DA Troutrooper and a few others were already at the base of the shuttle. Apollo raised a gloved hand to his ear to touch his comm earpeice. He ordered the shuttle to exit the bay and maintain a standoff position of 200 meters from the entrance. Troutrooper turned to him and nodded.

"Good thinking. We don't know if these spirits can leave the ship or not. Might as well not have a shuttle around for them to try it out on." Trout said as he turned his attention to Reiko.

"Reiko, do you have a status update?" Trout asked.

"Well, I'm still having some problems with some of the systems. We have a team working on gaining control of life support as we speak. Everyone else is just now assembling on the bridge. The spirits are getting active." Reiko added. He downloaded the shortest path to the bridge from the shuttle bay onto a datapad and handed it over to Apollo.

"Thanks Reiko." Apollo said as he turned to Troutrooper and nodded towards the main entrance.

"Guess I'm on point." the Dark Adept said with a sigh.

"Good guess." Apollo added as he fell in behind his friend.

"Fearless leader my ass." Trout mumbled as he exited the shuttle bay.

"Master?"

Apollo turned around to look at his apprentice, GRD Scion, who had joined him just before his team left the Doomsday.

"Yes, Scion?" Apollo smiled and turned back around to consult the datapad.

"This reminds me.. I need to start my Necromancy training when I get back." Scion added.

Apollo chuckled and nodded.

"You and me both, Scion. I've only dabbled in this relm of knowledge before now. We'll take a look at it when we get back. Now double check your pack before we get too far in, make sure you have everything.

"Yes Master." Scion replied.

Trout edged around the first corner and peered down the hallway. It was empty and mostly dark. Troutrooper opened himself up to the Force a little then frowned. Apollo eyed the Mon Cal a bit as Trout's large eyes slowly moved back and forth before he turned towards Apollo and Scion.

"I feel so much pain and fear on this ship. The anger and hatred are almost overwelming at times. Maybe Oberst swath of terror has finally caught up with him." Trout turned one large eye towards the hallway.

"The natives are getting restless, we need to move quicker." Trout said as he extended his hand to his Questor. Apollo surrendered the datapad.

"Lead the way." the human said in return.

Touching his earpeice one more time, he selected Dralin's comm channel.

"Reiko?"

"No, its Apollo. Myself, Troutrooper and Scion are on our way to your position." he said, trying to be quiet. He then realized the futility of such an act.

"Whats your status Dralin?" the Queastor asked.

"In a word? Grave."

"Understood, see you soon. Stay sharp. Apollo out." The comm clicked off after the exchange.


"Wow. Great wording Dralin." Trout chuckled, or what passed for chuckling for Mon Cals. Apollo smirked.

The three Gladius members began to quicken thier pace down the hallway. Apollo moved Scion in between him and Troutrooper. He couldn't loose his new AED so soon. As they moved, they could feel the intensity of thier surroundings. The complete hatred and contempt they felt seemed to be almost coming from the bulkheads themselves. They knew they had to reach the others, and quickly. Their lives depended on it.

Dranik looked slowly around the room at the faces of the Dark Jedi that had started to gather around him and Anshar's body now. The Prelate let out a soft sigh and thought quietly to himself about how this was not his ideal set up in this situation. After a few moments of assessing the situation, Dranik walked over to Merlance and spoke in a hushed whisper.

"I am taking Anshar's body and leaving. His body will draw the attention of too many of the spirits if it stays here for much longer and it is simply too dangerous with this many around."

Merlance looked at Dranik and then around the room and nodded.

"Simply put, you and I are the only two here that have a chance at actually defending off the spirits Merlance. So, keep them safe."

Merlance looked as if he was going to object but decided against it when Dranik walked over to the still body of his friend and picked it up, slinging it over his shoulder. "Times like this I am thankful I carry that heavy rifle all the time." Dranik said quietly and to himself. He then turned to address those in the room with him. "Here is what is going to happen. I am moving to a more secluded location and the rest of you are to stay with Merlance unless ordered by a Summit member to do otherwise. Keep yourselves safe and stay on your guard, it will not be long before everything starts falling apart."

With that, Dranik simply left the room, with a few gasps at his announcement but no one tried to actually follow him out of the room.

Dranik walked quietly down the halls of the ship, Anshar's body slung over his left shoulder, his right hand placed on the Westar-34 that's on that hip. A slight frown was on the Prelate's face as he walked, the ship itself was a little too quiet and devoid of life. Dranik kept walking passing room after room along the halls, the doors sealed before he stopped and sat Anshar's body down against the wall. "Why is it so cold here?" he asked allowed and looked about the area. A slight shiver ran down his body as the Prelate took a few steps forward and looked down the hall and then back over his shoulder at the lifeless body and down the hall in that direction, nothing was to be seen however.

Dranik drew his lightsaber and with its classic snap-hiss ignited the whitish blade as he took a few more steps forward and away from Anshar's body, adapting what was very clearly a defensive stance. It wasn't long before a howl erupted from a few meters down the hall and a swirling mass of spirits started to form. "So, you are what is making it so cold here." Dranik said as he watched the mass. A spirit bolted from the vortex they had made and nailed Dranik directly in the chest and passed through him, causing the Prelate to stumble back half a step.

As that spirit circled back around, passing through the rooms to the side, to return to the swirling vortex a second spirit shot from it towards the Prelate. Dranik raised his hand and closed his eyes as he struck out at the spirit with his mind. The spirit let out a howl and vanished into nothing as if it had been gravely injured. A third spirit rushed Dranik and he motioned towards it, using the same technique as before with a different effect. The spirit stopped in its tracks as if struggling and then turned and charged towards the vortex. When the spirit collided with the vortex it struck another and pushed it out. It was hard to see in the mass of spirits in between but it appeared very apparent that the two were now combating each other.**

With the exception of the two that were now locked in battle, the entire vortex of spirits rushed at Dranik, surrounding him and passing through him to keep him stumbling. It wasn't so much of pain the Prelate was feeling as it was an annoyance, much like someone hitting you in the chest with a large ball as each spirit passed through his body. Dranik, though he knew it would do no good, lashed out at the vortex with his saber, swinging widely into the spirits to no effect.

A form started to manifests itself behind the combat, directly behind Dranik and next to Anshar's body. "You are mine now Consul" whispered the form, very softly, before it took full form. Appearing as if from no where stepped out the ghostly form of Adamu, one of the Seven spirits from the crystal. Adamu glanced over at Dranik before it knelt down beside Anshar's body and placed its hand upon the lifeless forehead. With that Adamu vanished, with his disappearance the spirits that were fighting vanished as well and Dranik dropped down to one knee, tired from the pointless fight against the spirits.

Anshar stood up and walked over to Dranik, placing his hand on the Prelate's shoulder. Shocked and surprised Dranik rolled forward and jumped up into a defensive stance, his lightsaber now between Anshar and himself. "What….when did you wake up?" Dranik asked aloud, puzzlement and confusion very apparent on his face and in his voice.***

-----------------------------------
OOC NOTES!

** - Level Five clan ability was used here, twice. Compel the Shade. Please not that, the vast majority of you most likely do not have access to this power.

*** OOC NOTE – While you can read from the post and guess at what is going on, no character should actually know that Anshar is not Anshar (with the exception of Anshar of course)

Led by Stevenson, Anshar and Talitha made their way towards the bridge. For all its appearance on the outside, the inside of the MC80’s corridors were straight and met at sharp angles. It wasn’t as if the three of them actually needed to walk down the hallways: two spirits and whatever Talitha was could just as easily walk through the walls. However, Stevenson insisted on following the hallways, perhaps out of a lifetime of habit.

“Master Jedi, perhaps you could explain to me exactly who the seven other Jedi spirits are,” said Stevenson. “I have been wondering about that.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know much,” replied Anshar. “I know only that some time ago, an ally of Clan Tarentum, and personal friend of Oberst, came to Tarentum seeking assistance in binding fourteen Force spirits in a special crystal which he called the Crystal of Tears. For some reason, when the Yuuzhan Vong attacked the Brotherhood’s homeworld, our ally broke the crystal. I assume this released the spirits, with the seven Dark Jedi spirits on this vessel unable to become one with the Force. Their hatred for Tarentum has led them to seek our destruction.”

“They did not go after their primary enslaver first?” asked Stevenson.

“I don’t know,” said Anshar. If they had gone after Trevarus, Anshar had never heard about it. “I can only surmise that upon their release, they returned to where they were originally bound, which was in Tarentum’s space. The clan has only encountered them once before and we managed to drive them off. They are unable to interact with us directly in the physical world; they must go through intermediaries-” Anshar stopped briefly. “Like my body. I think they all want physical bodies back.” Anshar finished the last sentence.

“And your body is just the beginning,” said an icy feminine voice. Appearing from the shadows, Saryana approached the group. “I finally find you, Consul. And with our stowaway and a half-baked officer no less; I will eliminate you all here and now. And I shall take the young girl’s body for my own.”

“You must fight her,” replied Talitha. “You can fight her on this plane as if you were both in your bodies.” Anshar looked at Talitha somewhat strangely.

“She’s right,” said Stevenson, noting the look. “I have seen crew members tussle with one another as if they were still alive.” Anshar looked over at Saryana, surprise showing on his face when he saw that she had an ignited lightsaber, complete with a red blade. Reaching down out of habit, Anshar saw one of his lightsabers still with him.

“So, one of your lightsabers has a connection to a soul,” smirked Saryana. “Perhaps you can tell me about before you die. The crystal that powered my own lightsaber in my physical life actually possessed the spirit of my own daughter. She is still with me to this day!” With that, Saryana lunged at Anshar. He ignited his own lightsaber, fending off Saryana’s strike.

“Amazing,” breathed Stevenson. “I never would have guessed something like this was possible. I mean, bringing physical weapons into this plane of existence.”

“I remember,” said Talitha quietly. “There was a time when I could carry such a thing.” Her comment made little sense to Stevenson.

Anshar fought as if he were still in his body. Saryana proved to be a competent dualist in her own right, but she too dodged the strikes. It was obvious to her, as Anshar had surmised, that the lightsaber was equally deadly in this form.

“A pity we could not do this in our first meeting,” hissed Saryana. “And that these lightsaber cannot harm a live person, or else you’d all be dead by now.”

“Yeah, it’s a real pity,” shot back Anshar. He could only guess that there was something special about this ship that allowed this in the first place. Of course, it was only one of his lightsabers, the one that he had not constructed himself. As he parried another strike, Anshar felt a strange tugging on his legs, and then a strange sensation in his chest, as if he was breathing. Suddenly, it dawned on him. His body was moving, and it was moving without him in it!

* * *

“Adamu is successful,” said Drelus*. “And Saryana duels with the body’s owner.”

“I have dispatched some spirits to the bridge,” said one of the other spirits. “They will deal with the one called Oberst and his comrades until I arrive.”

“Good,” said Drelus. “When the time comes, we all must invade our targets and seize them for ourselves.” He grinned maliciously; he could not wait to be back in a body again. True, they would not be able to strip the souls as Saryana had done with Anshar; that had required too much effort, and it would leave them vulnerable. As weak as the fools of Tarentum were, there were those in the clan that practiced necromancy, and they would be able to drive the weakened spirits from the bodies of their comrades. Instead, outright possession would have to suffice, but this meant pushing the host soul aside. Eventually, the host spirit might be able to fight back.

Still, Drelus was ready for it. By the time the host spirit understood what had happened, his or her clanmates would be dead. Drelus would tear into these fools and rip them apart with his new hands if he needed to. Looking back, he wished they had discovered this ship from the very start. Without the Renegade and its unique situation within the Force, what the Crystal of Tears spirits were doing could not have been done.

--
*[OOC note: In “In the Shadows II,” I only named three of the seven Crystal of Tears spirits: Adamu, Drelus, and Saryana. The species breakdown was as follows: three human males (including Adamu and Drelus), a human female (Saryana), a female Twi’lek, a male Falleen, and an unidentified Duros.]

As several Dark Jedi moved about the room where most of them were situated, few words were being exhanged. Ronovi had been more than relieved to see her Quaestor arrive, but the two had merely nodded to each other in greeting before he moved on to the bridge with Troutrooper. She thought about Kazarelth, who had regained only a little of his strength so that he could stand beside Sato, but other than that, it didn't seem as if he could do much else. The pulse of darkness that had resonated from the orb had weakened him thorougly, but at least he was recovering, even if only slowly.

As Merlance was in command since Dranik's departure with Anshar's body, Ronovi merely stayed where she was beside her comrades. She thought about Oberst on the bridge and who was with him. According to the others, he was with Xayun, Archean, and two Acolytes, one of the latter being Ronovi's battle team's Flight Leader. She swallowed nervously, hoping that Donos was all right but knowing that this experience would obviously strengthen him as a whole. While Ronovi didn't know Archean well, she knew that the best thing for Donos was staying with his master. She only regretted not being able to do the same with her master.

Ronovi was dragged out of her thoughts when she felt a hand upon her shoulder. She raised her head to see Dralin beside her, who smiled at her briefly before looking out toward the hallway opposite from them with a furrowed brow.

"You fear for those on the bridge, do you?" he asked.

"So you noticed," Ronovi replied, raising an eyebrow.

Dralin smirked. "You've never been very subtle, Ronovi, especially as a warrior. But don't worry about them. Best to focus on our survival rather than our potential demise."

"Yeah, but do you really think it's wise for all of us to be jam-packed into one room, waiting for the worst?"

"We're not jam-packed, number one, and number two--"

"You two bickering in a time of crisis?" Sato said from the corner. He was watching as Merlance organized and re-organized groups to stand guard in the hallways. While some maintained position in the center, the whole room was structured in an angle-like formation, ready to close in at any attack.

Ronovi sighed. "I guess so." Then, grinning, she looked at Dralin. "But it seems to be the only appropriate thing to do."

Sato shook his head before shifting his focus on the group. Ronovi and Dralin did the same, and the silence fell once again. Cheeriness could be only be temporarily as the time kept passing by.

---

With Saryana fighting Anshar's spirit and Adamu in the Consul's body, Drelus observed the bridge as Oberst maintained his post, the four others flanking him along with a few other Dark Jedi. He smirked at the Marshal's apparent arrogance as the latter paced the area as if claiming the ghost ship as his own again, despite the fact that the spirits remain withdrawn, waiting for their leader to give them the command to attack. This time, though the Dark Jedi felt confident in their own strength in the Dark Arts, the spirits would not easily fall back to simple blows from the mind or soul. They were in groups, and they were hellbent on destruction.

Drelus pictured the one who he would soon possess, ripping away the latter's spirit and taking the flesh for his own. He reveled in it only momentarily before his eyes blazed upon the walls where the spirits lay behind in wait. Then, at last, he looked toward his enemy once more before he knew that too much time had passed. His own desire for blood had grown too strong.

Now the hour of judgment has come! he thought before raising his arm and giving the signal. Hearing the screams of the spirits of response, Drelus could only laugh before disappearing in preparation for his strike.

---

The flickering of the ship's lights was enough to get every volunteer in the main room at full attention. Ronovi looked around at her comrades as lightsabers were ignited and pistols were raised, everyone moving into offensive stances, as the hum of the ship disappeared and silence consumed the room. Merlance held up a hand as if that were enough to keep everyone at bay, but already the sound of a hideous voice made its way into the room and grated against everyone's ears.

"You've had your chance to run. Now it is time for you to fall. There will be no debate, and there will be...no mercy."

Then a hissing laughter broke out before Ronovi swore that the floor was beginning to shake. She looked around the room, watching as the walls seemed to swell as if something was pressing against them. But the last and final catalyst to the eruption was the shrieks that came from all sides, and all Ronovi could discern from it all was a voice, whether her own or someone else's, crying out:

"Here they come!"

Brimstone was awaken onboard to the fact that his master, Anshar was injured, possibly killed onboard the derelect ship the clan found. Grabbing his flight jacket, charric blasters, and lightsaber, he rushed out of his chambers and down to the landing bays.

"Deck officer, I need to get on the next shuttle immediately."

"Sir, there was one that just left, another will be going in 20-30 minutes" replied the officer.

"Make it faster than that. I need to get to that ship to help out my master" snapped back Brimstone. "I aint losing another master again."

5 other apprentices arrived that were getting ready to disembark for the next shuttle to the other ship. They noticed that Brimstone was pacing back and forth and physically upset. One came over to ask what was wrong but the jedi hunter wouldn't answer, just stared at him with his bright red eyes.

The shuttle finally was ready and Brimstone rushed aboard and grabbed the nearest seat to the hatches. He wanted to be first on the ship and ready to attack and help his master.

The ship got clearance and left for the MC80.

***

Anshar continued his attack against Saryana as they were equal matches in the force. Both the lieutenant Stevenson and Talitha stood and watched. Talitha looked like a 12 year old girl, but in actuallity was over 1000 years old and well adepty in the ways of necromancy. She knew she could easily help out, but was wanting to see what Anshar would do in etherial form.

As Anshar was in battle, a twinge was felt in the Force as he felt his student and newest apprentice, Brimstone, was on the way to the ship. This made matters worse as now he will have to look after the student because he wasn't quite ready to face a enemy like this.

"So your student is coming here" sneered Saryana with a grin. "I wonder how much it would please me to let him see you die in front of him, or how much it would kill you if one of my commrads took over him as their own host."

"Not any chance are you going to live to see that" retorted Anshar. "I will make sure that that day will not happen. You have chosen the wrong Dark Jedi to engage in a battle."

The two continued to assault one another as the other two looked on.

***

Adamu, now in the body of Anshar, had caught Dranik by surprise. Dranik was in disbelief that not only his friend and former master was standing in front of him, but have come back from near death to be in full health.

"How can this be? you were nearly dead not even 5 minutes ago?" questioned Dranik.

"A spirit tried to claim me, but I fought it and won" explained Anshar. "I wasn't in any real danger, unlike you and the others. Put away your lightsaber, those other spirits already left."

Dranik was weary of the revitalized Anshar. "If it is the same to you, I feel much better if we get you checked out back at the shuttles."

"Sounds good to me, plus allows me to see what other journeymen are here to help us" replied Anshar.

The two left with Dranik in the lead. Adamu could only smile at the deception and the thought of more people to become hosts.

***

The shuttle landed and Brimstone was out of the hatch and ready to go. He tried to search out for his master by their connection they had. He felt a slight tug in the Force, but then it felt like coming from two other directions. This confused the jedi hunter as he knew he was still not fully atuned into his abilities and proceeded to start heading to the nearest hall entrance to go search for his master.

At the same tiime, Dranik and Anshar both walked right into the landing bay as Brimstone reached for the doors.

"Master are you ok?" asked Brimstone.

"I am ok, just was attacked, but Dranik wants me to get checked out to make sure I am ok" replied Anshar. "What are you doing here, I was sure I told you to stay aboard the other ship and wait for my return."

"I was told you had been attacked and possibly killed from some of the others so I came as soon as I could to try to help."

"You did right by wanting to help, Brimstone" Dranik spoke, "But as you can see, we are doing well."

The three walked back to the shuttle that Brimstone just came on.

Oberst stood on the command catwalk over the crew pits. With a glance, he could read each station. It was odd to see each pit without men there. The competent and the incompetent. Both will fill those seats attempting to give him status reports and carry out his barked orders. He made a slow turn, about face. Satisfied, he made his way to the command bubble to the rear. Adjacent to the bubble was the true bridge. There, the Admiral and the Captain could conduct the operations of the ship without being interrupted by the mundane. If engines weren’t producing enough power, that was the Head of Engineering’s problem. Weapons were handled by the Weapons Officer. None of this was the concern of the Fleet Commander. It was a misnomer on the vids and holos that the captain sat in a giant chair on the bridge, directing everything personally. That was a waste of time and a Herculean feat to boot.

Stopping in front of a large panel before the holodisplay, Oberst removed a command cylinder. Oberst tapped it absently as he regarded the command panel. Inserting it into the space reserved for the IWCOMs, Fleet Commander or Battlegroup Commanders, the panel came to life instantly. Oberst scowled, that shouldn’t work. Working from memory, Oberst keyed in his authorization code, and watched as the display before him listed every sealed order for the Renegade’s last cruise. Oberst keyed the top three orders to display on the bridge. Making his way to the bridge, he barked, “Commander Erinos, the ship is yours. I do not want to be disturbed!”

Before Archean could reply, the doors to the bridge closed.

* * *

Oberst scowled as he read the orders. This was insane. Jammin should have known better than to sign off on these orders.

He read as the Renegade was effectively ordered on a suicide run as a feint for a much larger invasion of Minos. It was to be two pronged, with Battlegroups I and II sent in a double envelopment of the sector’s production areas. He had read the news reports of the invasion. The Republic was able to check and keep the pincer movement from completing. Giving them time to evacuate the area of men, many supplies and plans.

His scowl deepened as he sifted to the two other commands, which already had their captain’s addendums. Which meant the action had been completed. If he ever met Ronin on the field, he would be sure to remind the “Grand Admiral” of why it was he, Maxamillian von Oberst, that was able to spearhead and keep the Republic on the defensive during the early campaigns of Minos.

Oberst snarled as he made his way back to the command bubble and catwalk.


* * *


Archean idly tapped his finger against a console. There wasn’t anything really to do, without a crew. He stretched his mind as much as he could to “see,” but the visions showed nothing immediate. Stuff hung at the periphery, like fog on the horizon, but nothing more.

“Commander, get me a line to Engineering, I want to know if we have the area under control,” Oberst’s bark caused Archean to jump out of his skin.

“Yes, sir,” Archean made his way to the communications pit. The Force served as eyes for him.

“Xayun, get me a frequency to the Doomsday,” Oberst glared hard at the Erinos. The message was clear, insolence would not be brooked. “Yesterday!”

Xayun blinked hard once, before making his way to the communications pit as well.

Oberst took to the command console and began to key in a cryptic series of buttons. The external channel crackled to life, and before anyone on the Doomsday could respond, he snarled, “Admiral, I want a team prepped to board the Renegade. Once we give the signal, I want this ship underway and taken home. I might not be able to take her to Phare, but I can take her to Yridia. She’s serviceable, but we’ve not completed our investigations. Have those teams on standby, and hold them until further orders. Renegade out.”

(Ronovi's post has confused me to where Apollo is so I'm writing that Apollo is not with them, as he's with Troutrooper going to the Bridge.)


The link to the Doomsday ended as Oberst spun on his heel and headed down to the Control Pit where Archean and Xayun were seated. The blind Sith was patching through to Engineering, just as Oberst ordered.

“So, we're going to be taking this ship back to Yridia?” Quizzed Archean, while dialing the keypad.
“Yes, Commander. We're taking her back. I want this ship stripped to its bare bones and I want everything uncovered.” Barked Oberst. “Why hasn't Engineering responded?” The Marshal's voice grew impatient.
“No idea, sir. There should be people in there, I haven't felt any disturbances in the force to tell me otherwise.” Responded the Sith as he tried to patch through again. Oberst's fist came crashing down on the console next to Xayun, making him jump.
“Not good enough!” He bellowed. “Xayun, go to Engineering and see what the problem is. Commander Erinos, stay here with your Apprentices'. I want to know why Engineering isn't responding”.
“As soon as I know, you'll know, Oberst.” Archean nodded. Oberst stormed out of the room and made his way on to the catwalk.

Xayun rolled his eyes back as he slung his rifle over his shoulder.

“I'll be in touch.” Xayun said.

“Be careful, brother.” Archean saluted.

“You know me.” Xayun winked as he left the room.

The Battlemaster waited for a reply from Engineering but still no answer.
“Hmph.” Archean was getting visibly annoyed. “Hmm...maybe if I try this.” He began punching in numbers to get a link to the Doomsday.

“Doomsday, this is Archean transmitting from the MC80.”

“Go ahead, Arch.”

“Has anyone from Engineering called in to you stating their situation?” Asked the young Battlemaster.

“No, not for a while now. How come?”

“I've been trying to get in contact with them but no one is answering.”

“Maybe they're on their way to your location?”

“Hmm...could be. I'll be in touch. Renegade out.” The link severed. Archean got up from his seat and called out to his Apprentices'.

“Adriel, Donos. Jump on the consoles and keep trying to contact Engineering. If you get through notify Oberst at once.” Archean unclipped his saber, spun it on his palm and headed out the door.

* * *

“Drelus, do not attack the ones in the Control Room. We have bigger things to get to.” Whispered a feint voice. The spirit moved through the air and around the two Acolytes before disappearing. Adriel and Donos looked at each other, they sensed something was near.

* * *

Xayun rounded a corner and eyed his surroundings. He could hear feint voices swirling all around him. It didn't make any sense but it gave off an eerie feeling in the Erinos' stomach. He let his rifle slide down his shoulder and into his hands. He entered the room and found nothing. No one was around.

“... Odd.” He thought to himself as he swept the room, rifle at the ready.

The commlink crackled and Adriel's voice came through, startling the Erinos..

“This is Adriel from the Control Room. Do you read me?” Came the transmission. Xayun regained his composure and responded.

“This is Xayun, no one's here. I'm going to go look for them. Xayun out.”

As soon as he got up from the console, Drelus charged Xayun with full force.

“Whaaaa!” Shrieked the Warrior, firing blindly at the ghost. The spirit cackled maniacally as it was swooping closer.

Knowing if he didn't act fast, he'd be dead, he ran for it, Drelus hot on his heels.

“You can't escape!.” Growled Drelus.
“Watch me!” Xayun yelled, using the force to speed himself up.

Archean could hear fast footsteps getting closer and closer. Xayun flew out from the corner.

“Ruuuuuuuunnnnn!” He shouted.

Archean saw the spirit behind Xayun and high-tailed it. Using hightened senses, Archean could hear weapons clanging together and what sounded like Lightsabers brushing up against walls.

They rushed through the door from where the sound was coming from to reveal Ronovi, Dralin and Sato combating a foray of spirits. A weak Kazarelth, Merlance and Raiju burst through from a connecting room. The main room resembled a warzone, with lights flashing and hanging dangerously over them and consoles short circuiting, sparking every few seconds. Ronovi ducked under a swipe from one of the spirits but it caught Kazarelth by surprise. The Krath fell on his back heavily, knocking the wind out of himself. Sato and Dralin rushed to his aid.

“Fighting is pointless! Run!” Screamed the blind Sith.

All the Dark Jedi made a run for the door as quick as they could, ducking and weaving from the onslaught of the psychotic spirits. The Necromancer in Archean took effect and he reached out with the Force. Archean began attacking the spirits as the other Dark Jedi fled, buying them time. Xayun looked at Archean swinging at the ghosts.

"How'd you do that?" He asked.
"I'll tell ya later." Replied the Sith as he made his way out the door.

The group sprinted down the hall. A few moments later they realized they weren't being followed.

“I don't like this, I feel as though we're being watched.” The Guardian looked nervous as she eyed the group.

“We probably are.” Xayun replied. Ronovi's expression changed to one of anger.

“So...where are we?” Sato questioned..

“We're on the other side of the ship. Thats the infirmary. Control and Engineering are back the way we came.” Archean answered. “I need to contact Oberst. Keep your eyes open.” Archean took his communicator from his pocket.


* * *

Anshar's face morphed into an evil smirk behind Dranik and Brimstone. Adamu relished the fact no one was the wiser that Anshar was battling his companions on the ethereal plane and that he had these two Jedi at his mercy.

(OOC. I used a level 5 Clan power. "Compel the Shade")

(Archean, sorry if my other post confused you. I've edited it slightly to adapt to your post)

Ronovi looked at the small group she was a part of before observing these new surroundings. With the infirmary nearby, she was surprised to feel a different sort of vibe in the air. While most of the Renegade was shrouded in the familiar rage, this area was in tune with more sorrow and pain than anything else. It did fit, however, as Ronovi tried to imagine what sort of injuries or illnesses were treated here...and perhaps who they were caused by.

I'm taking too much time to think these days, she thought as she was distracted once again by Archean, who had just gotten in communication with Oberst again.

"Oberst, this is Archean."

"Where the Hell are you?" Oberst's voice bellowed from the other end. "You're supposed to be with your apprentices communicating with the Engineering!"

"We've got nothing from that room, sir," Archean replied. "That and we were sort of attacked by ghosts, so we're a bit sidetracked at the moment."

Ronovi winced as a stream of curses crackled from Archean's comm. "Go back, Commander. Your apprentices are not safe on this ship alone. I don't want you to be so flighty with these damn ghosts, and I want something to be done now."

"Wait...he's calling you commander?" Dralin asked as Archean clicked off his comm.

"Yes. Oberst has claimed total control over this ship and wants to take it back to Yridia. He's requested more teams to be sent to the Renegade so it can be piloted."

"What, the way it is now? You know, the ghosts would be one major snag to that plan," Ronovi snapped.

"Don't underestimate what Oberst has in mind," Archean said solemnly as he used his Force senses to find the corridor leading back in the direction of the control room. "He's commanded this ship before and has been renowned for his missions upon it. All we can do is trust him."

Ronovi nodded, knowing Archean was right, before turning to her other comrades. Kazarelth grinned faintly at her; it was the most he could muster with his lingering strength.

"Everyone, we're going on a little search," Archean said. "First we're going to get my apprentices before they get too nervous. Second, we're going to go looking for those who should be in Engineering. Keep in mind, that plethora of spirits you just fought will be coming back. Stay on your guard."

"Back to search and rescue again," Xayun growled, as he was still bitter about having to run away from a ghost. But he as well as the others trailed behind Archean as he, though looking slightly worried about leaving his apprentices behind, ignited his lightsaber and led the way.

---

Drelus smirked as the small group of Dark Jedi walked down the corridor and had half a mind to attack them again, but he would let the others do the work. Though he had taken great pleasure in chasing down one of them, he knew he had another appointment to make. His new body was calling for him, and he would see to it that it would be claimed.

Strolling through the corridors, he observed in the other planes how the fight between Anshar and Saryana was only growing more intense. It was also a matter of time before Adamu would carry out his duties in perhaps the best taken body of all the Clan. However, the body Drelus wanted was good enough for him.

He made his way toward the bridge, watching as three Dark Jedi almost casually headed toward it. The murderer was out of the question for possession; Drelus and the others didn't necessarily want him dead, merely as bait so the other spirits could continue to work for them. Best to keep him alive as long as possible, Drelus thought as he watched Oberst defiantly reprogram the ship.

Relocating his target, Drelus realized that he was closer to the main entrance of the ship than he thought. He smiled as he mouthed the name Rekio Corsair, knowing him as another powerful cohort of Anshar's. It was best to start at the top and work their way through.

He was ready to head through the corridors once more before he heard a voice from behind him. He turned to see the three Dark Jedi from before facing him, their weapons held out in front of them.

"Who are you?" Apollo demanded as he pointed his lightsaber at Drelus.

Drelus smirked. He could just disappear if he desired, but this was too much fun to miss out on. He chuckled mercilessly.

"Nuisances. I'll deal with you first."

---

As Dranik walked alongside Brimstone and Anshar upon the landing bay, he couldn't help but notice something awry in the air. However, it wasn't coming from the familiar vibes of anger that he had adjusted to while on the ship, and it wasn't coming from any sort of hidden enemy. Brimstone didn't seem to notice, but Dranik looked around the walls in hopes of finding what was disturbing the air around him.

"What's the matter, Dranik?" Anshar asked from behind him calmly. Too calmly. That was when Dranik noticed that what evil he felt was not surrounding him or in front of him.

Instead, it was edging closer from behind, piercing into his back with a powerful Force. Something was wrong...and that something was coming from Anshar.

Dranik ignited his lightsaber again and turned to Anshar only to hear a sharp cry from beside him. Brimstone had turned around just as he did, only to get a sudden shaft of darkness full in the face. Dranik watched in shock as the Jedi Hunter was thrown into the air and landed in a crumpled heap beside the shuttle, his eyes bulging and his mouth half open as he lay as still as a stone.

"What are you doing?" the Proconsul cried as he faced his friend and master, brandishing his lightsaber.

Anshar stood coolly n front of him, his hand moving to the side of his robes where his own saber was hidden. A smile unfamiliar to Dranik danced on the Consul's lips.

"I didn't kill him, Dranik, don't look so frightened. He's just out of commission for the time being. Enough time for me to have a talk with you. Alone."

With that, a blaze of light erupted from Anshar's lightsaber as he activated it and pointed it skillfully at Dranik. He cruelly smirked before a voice that did not fit him broke out as the two stood on the vast landing bay.

"Now...let's chat."

Odin ran as fast as he could, followed by his apprentice and a couple Journeymen towards the place where Elols, his Aedile, identified as the last spot of the Clan Summits. His comlink and datapad were not functioning well, the signal were up and down, as if interfered or jammed. He sworn madly when he ended at a cul de sac.

"I don't know what has happened to this ship! The Consul has been attacked and I still didn't know what would happen to him next and I could not do anything instead of turning around room by room! I felt like being toyed! This is a regular MC80 but everything has looked different, empty and strange and confusing! And where are the others ?!" Odin realized that he was there, accompanied only by his apprentice.

Kyra looked at her master silently. She knew his master was not easily drawn into uncontrolled rage but the man now punched the nearby metallic wall. A loud clank came with the punch.

"I hate this...I lost my focus and self control ...I worried too much. Where are the other Journeymen?" Odin asked again.

"It seems we've lost them in those rooms, master, you were so quick to follow," Kyra answered with a soft tone. His master should have been suffering much pain tension that preventing him from calm, as his master once warned her about the impact of his self pain experiments if she might encounter it.

"Anshar... if he was surely attacked and killed," Odin observed the wall, as if his sight wanted to penetrate the metal, "I wondered whose hatred would be benefited from this event." His palms shifted in slow patterns, trying to feel something behind the metal texture.

He took a few deep breaths and closed his eyes, his face frowned periodically, "Karel was right about my power though it was not a matter of practicing. I just wanted to break from that pain. I just blocked myself from sensing. But,...I realized it would not work against the higher power. Whereever I ran, the circumstances would be back to haunt me." He tried to get the sense of other livings in the perimeter, one of the basic tier a necromancer should be able to do along with keeping his buffer on.

Kyra did not say a word. She would discern this as another session of field lesson. However, she remained alert to her surrounding.

"Eyes of the Keepers...," he murmured. The wave sound of heart beats jumped from him self, his apprentice's, and wandered several meters away in its radius. He caught some fast rhythms of beats coming closer to their current place.

"Maybe, they aren't too far..." Odin concluded, "and fear is all that matters."

Suddenly he felt a smooth wind blowing onto his face. His eyelids snapped open, but before he could speak about something before his eyes, an ethereal Twi'leks' head spoke to him earlier.

"Wonder about your superior, Warrior? He is perfectly fine. No need to worry."

Odin jumped backward, igniting his lightsaber, followed suit by Kyra. He grunted to himself, all the sensitivity needed was back at him, as well as the pain crawling at his spine.

"Who are you?"

"I was...," The ethereal Twi'leks head squirmed to release the rest of ethereal body from the metal wall, "once the same as you, a Dark Jedi. Although I was sad to see the members of the Clan that claimed the power of controlling us, but all they could do was running away?"

"Watch your words, Twi'leks! Who was running away from you? I am not afraid of you!" Odin uttered disapprovingly, and swinging his lightsaber into the ethereal body.

The Twi'leks laughed. "Useless attemps, Equite." The lightsaber was just waving in empty air as the Twi'leks floating higher. "Eventhough we want all of you die, suffering like your superior, but it's good to see you die in other way."

Odin growled irately. This ghost's taunting was too much.

"Be careful, Kyra. Buffer yourself."

Another spirit came out from the wall and stared at the two Dark Jedi.

"Ah yea, my friend is here...as your friends will be gathering soon." The Twi'leks smirked

Both Odin and Kyra could hear steps approaching, but Odin felt that the coming wave sound of the heartbeats were not high, instead low and steady. In other radius, other beats were rushing, as if they described the pounding hearts of some persons, compensating the energy needed to run in fear.

Anshar had no time to be extremely worried about his body as he parried another attack from Saryana. Anshar had little doubt that this fight would have been over if they had met on the physical plain. Saryana’s combat style did not lend itself well to defending against Jar’Kai Niman, the two blade wielding technique that Anshar had mastered. But, only one of Anshar’s lightsabers had appeared with him in this form, and Saryana had stated that it was because the weapon itself had a connection to a soul. It was worth exploring, assuming Anshar ever made it back to his body.

“If we did not need your body,” hissed Saryana, “I very much would have enjoyed cutting the life from it ever so slowly.”

“Still chasing bodies,” replied Anshar. He recalled their first encounter when the seven spirits had demanded that they create more ghalia and hishi. These were two types of spirits that the Keepers had experimented with to enter the dreams and minds of others. Tarentum had learned the hard way that a vengeful enough Force spirit could also latch onto the creations and possess something like a draugr.

“You don’t realize how much I hate this form!” Saryana stated forcefully. “I cannot touch anything, nor feel the pleasure of life. And my face still burns where you struck me!” Her face was still disfigured from their first encounter when Anshar had managed to strike Saryana with a spiritual attack. “And this clan took it from me! We will destroy you, that fool Trevarus, and then take over your precious Brotherhood. This vessel, with its crew, was merely our tool to do it.” Anshar did not respond; Saryana was ranting and raving now. Instead, he concentrated on figuring out how to end the fight. No matter how long or hard they fought, it appeared that this form did not experience fatigue. It seemed entirely feasible that they could continue fighting for eternity. Regardless, it appeared that, as in a physical life, it ultimately required that one of them die.

* * *

Stevenson stood back and watched. He knew he couldn’t do anything to help in the fight, which only made him more nervous. They were running out of time and, based on what he had heard said, things would only get worse if these seven spirits had their way.

“Isn’t there anything you can do?” he asked Talitha. The young girl had not done anything, yet, but she finally nodded. As Anshar and Saryana separated again, and without a word, Talitha held her hand out in front of her and black flames appeared, flying out. The flames skirted past Anshar slammed full force into Saryana. Immediately, the spirit was set ablaze. Her screams of agony echoed through the hallway, but they did little good. Soon, Saryana’s spirit disappeared into the realm of Oblivion. It was the closest thing to death a spirit could have.

The flames ceased and Talitha collapsed.

* * *

The attack had thrown Anshar off guard; even more surprising was that he recognized the black flames. It was a higher level power of the Keepers, and one Anshar himself had learned. He turned around just as Talitha collapsed. Immediately, he moved to her side, along with Stevenson.

“You needn’t worry about me,” the young girl whispered, her eyes closed. “Help me come with you, for I am running out of time.”

“You are what?” asked Stevenson. Anshar cut him off.

“How can we help you? Neither of us has a physical body,” said Anshar. If he did, he could very easily have just picked the girl up.

“Carry me,” she said, still whispering. “Carry my soul as if it were my body. I am different than you. My body and soul cannot be separated as yours can. I remember that now.” With that, the girl stopped speaking. Anshar leaned down and laid his hands on her, surprised that they did not pass through. He hoisted the girl up.

“Commander, to the bridge, if you please,” said Anshar. Stevenson only nodded and continued their trek. As they walked, Anshar looked down at the girl who now appeared to be sleeping in his ethereal arms. Just what was she, and what was she remembering? He was determined to find out. Anshar had completely forgotten about the strange tugging sensation on his spirit as his body was being used for other, far more malicious, purposes.

In a dark small room in the Renegade, the few Dark Jedi spirits were gathered and whispering. Through one side of the walls, they saw a bunch of Tridenians running up in the corridor.

“Now that Saryana, Adamu, and Drelus got engaged with their preys. It is my time to have fun… Let me have one of their bodies... I can’t wait to see their stupid faces when they have to fight with their own friend.”

As murmured, a Duros spirit spread a creepy smile on its face. Another one, a Twi’lek spirit asked back as the small team of Tridens disappeared in the end of the corridor.

“Agreed. I want to see them suffered before killing them… But, can you do that?”

“There must be one with a weak will, as always. Besides, I have my own way… Huhu... We’ll see…”


***


Running as fast as possible after his Quaester Odin, Kyra, and few other journeymen, Guardian Cypha had kept silent not knowing what to say. He had been nervous and insecure more than necessary. He was used to those dark emotions such as anger or hatred drifting all over this ship, but it was more than a surprise that those spirits attacked and made his Consul to death. On top of everything, the fact that he could not figure out what to do to the situation was the biggest problem bothering him.

The narrow corridors were intricately entangled as if the entire ship tried to make them confused. The more he ran, the more he felt lost. As Cypha saw Odin and Kyra in the top of the group made another left turn, he hoped his Aedile was standing around the corner. But instead, as soon as he reached the corner, Cypha at the end of the group, suddenly sensed a sharp chill on his back. The Guardian had to stop, and looked back at where he just passed. He could see nothing but the empty dark corridor. However, he heard a subtle whisper from nowhere.

“I feel your fear….”

Since it was so subtle, he could not figure out if it was real or merely a product of his imagination. He shook his head, and then looked back his companies who were about to disappear into another end of the corridor. Again, it echoed in his head like a whisper.

“I’ve been watching you, young one… You don’t notice your real power, or none of your friends does….”

“What?” As Cypha stepped back to the corner, he heard the voice again much clearer this time.

“I can show you the true nature of the Dark Side.”

“Who are you!” Cypha shouted in the middle of the intersection with irritation, but there was nobody seen in all four directions.

“Heee, you got upset so easily, Arkanian. Weak and immature!” The voice suddenly showed a hint of mockery.

“Show yourself, if you are so strong!!” As Cypha felt his anger grown up inside him, suddenly black mist sprang up above him. Once it flew randomly, but soon gathered up to make a mass of shadow, and eventually started making a swirl. Cypha stepped back a few, and could recognize the swirl slowly changed into a shape of a Duros. At the slightest moment, the Duros spirit looked like smiling though, it immediately moved forward with a lightning velocity to attack Cypha. The spirit went through Cypha’s body without a physical contact and appeared in his back again. Then, all of sudden, Cypha suffered from a severe pain through all over his body…

“Hehehe, hurts, doesn’t it? It is a pity that you cannot use your full potential yet…. What have you learned in Tarentum? Do you want me to help you? Focus on your anger! That’s right, anger!”

As the word “anger” echoed in his mind, Cypha quickly ignited his lightsaber, and gave the spirit a combination of quick slashes. The spirit dodged all of his attacks as if it could hurt the spirit’s visualized entity, making his efforts look futile and stupid.

“You fool! What are you doing? I am here! Cut me in half! Haaahahaa! I feel your anger! I feel it!”

Cypha felt pain, anger and hatred inside him so vividly as in his surroundings. Actually, that was all he could sense at that point. He didn’t even notice that he started losing his mind. The dark emotions grown in his mind blinded him from the fact that the lightsaber cannot cut the spiritual entity or that he should have called his comrades. Besides, those emotions somehow continuously flew into him as if whole the environment tried to fuel him.

“Yyyaaaahhh!” With a scream and all his anger, he brought up his lightsaber with both hands on top of his head to give his strongest slash to the spirit. As he thought he had cut the spiritual entity, it suddenly changed back into a sheet of the black mist, and moved towards the Guardian to envelope his face. Cypha could not breath, see or smell anything as surrounded by the veil of dark mist! Only he could do was giving thousands of meaningless lightsaber slashes into the air as if he went insane... Eventually, as his anger almost reached up to its plateau, the mist started being absorbed into Cypha’s body through all possible spaces such as eyes, mouth and nose...
“Ughhh! Aaeeyhhh, Ugh, Ggh!”
Cypha’s eyes turned into white and his body lost control. After a few spasms ran through the body, he fell straight down into the floor helplessly…

As the lightsaber turned off and rolled out from his hand, silence shrouded the corridors as if nothing had happened. Then, Cypha’s eyes blinked, and a few words finally came out of his mouth with Duros accents.

“Hehehe, it was easier than I thought… I like those idiots.” He slowly stood up with a creepy smile, and kept talking in a calm tone.

“Anger is my ally, young one… Through anger, I can channel anybody’s mind, especially a fool like you is easy to deal with. But don’t worry, my friend. Now, I can give you the real power of the Drak Side, wonderful powers that you have never imagined… You will see what you really can. Heeehehehe..”

Cypha picked up his lightsaber on the floor, and started following the way his friends disappeared.

(Note: From what I know from Archean's post, Archean's group consists of me, Xayun, Dralin, Kazarelth, Sato, Donos, Adriel, Raiju and Merlance. I am adding Vampre into the batch as well. If any of them should not be there or if more are there, please let me know so that I can edit)

As Drelus moved toward Apollo, Troutrooper, and Scion, the three Dark Jedi brandished their weapons at the approaching ghost. He smirked; all of these Jedi were fools. They all seemed to think that their lightsabers or guns would do the trick against those of the Crystal, but they were wrong.

"I've had enough of these antics," Drelus said as he raised his hand and mist began to swirl around the three. "I think it would be fair enough to put an end to your--"

Nooooooo! Nooooo! You wretched girl! You and Anshar will pay for this!

Drelus's eyes widened at the wails and screams of Saryana from the other Force plane before they dwindled into nothingness. The mist faded around him and he lost his concentration against the three standing against him. As they stared at him, confused but still in a fighting stance, Drelus adjusted his vision to the other dimension in hopes of observing what had happened.

There was the Consul, carrying that cursed girl down the corridors with the lieutenant commander by his side. And Saryana was nowhere to be found.

"NO!" he bellowed suddenly, having realized what had happened. "Not Oblivion. Saryana couldn't possibly have yielded to Oblivion!"

The rage within Drelus was mounting, more than he ever imagined, and in a sudden movement, Drelus zipped past the three Dark Jedi, leaving them behind in his rage.

I'll get them yet. They'll pay. They will ALL pay, he snarled. The loss of Saryana would not stop him; Adamu still held control of Anshar's body, while Casorrs, that ever loyal Duros, had taken hold of a Guardian. It was time that Drelus finally found Corsair while the other three still aimed for their own targets. He headed down the corridors briefly before detecting Rekio's presence and disappearing.

---

While the group had made it to the control room without much trouble, Ronovi still felt her eyes flickering from side to side. Archean stepped into the room calmly while Donos and Adriel looked up from the panels.

"Master!" Donos said. "What're you doing back here? Adriel and I are well."

"There's no more use in trying to communicate with Engineering if we're not getting anything," Archean replied. "It's best that you come with the rest of us."

"Well, now that we're happily reunited, you think we could get some work done and get out of here?" Xayun demanded.

"Easy, Xayun. The worst is yet to come," Raiju said as Xayun cursed. "As Archean said, more people should be coming to help. As for the state of Anshar and the others scattered among this ship, let's hope we can find them."

The group began moving again with their new numbers. Ronovi kept beside Raiju and Merlance as Dralin grouped with Sato and Kazarelth, while Donos and Adriel stayed beside Archean and Xayun. A Heragan whom Ronovi recognized from the room she had been in had also joined them as the group escaped from the ghosts' wrath; Vampre, they called him. He appeared calm as he walked beside Raiju and Merlance, his red eyes glowing in the dim light of the ship's hull.

The formation was spread out as much as possible along the corridors, which only appeared to grow narrower, intimidating the Epicanthix. She watched as Archean stopped at a corner and listened.

"I hear voices from nearby," he said. "Our allies are close."

"It must be Odin and the others from Tridens," Ronovi said, remembering how the Quaestor had arrived at the landing bay at the same time she had. "With any luck, we can catch up with them!"

"And with any luck, I can hold you back," hissed a voice from behind her. The group dispersed and whipped out their respective weapons, all at an offensive stance. In everyone's view, a tall Falleen stood in the corridor, smiling hideously as he almost oiled his way toward the cluttered Dark Jedi.

"I believe I have an appointment to make with one of you," the Falleen said, his eyes scanning the enemy for its target. "And I mean to make it quick."

Ronovi swallowed, as she knew that this had to be another of the seven Dark Jedi that Anshar had spoken about. While an understatement at best, she knew that this situation was going to get ugly.

---

Having communicated with Apollo briefly before making his way back to one of the rooms, Rekio paced and muttered to himself as he attempted to figure out what was going on with life support. Evant and Elols had not made contact with him for quite some time, and he fought off a bit of anxiety as he connected with the Doomsday again. Best to keep in check.

"Doomsday, this is Rekio."

"Doomsday here. We've received Oberst's transmission and are attempting to send reinforcements. What's the status of the ship?"

Rekio moved to answer, but a sudden tug at his shoulders disrupted his thoughts. He felt as if something or someone was watching him as he turned his head but saw nothing in the room.

"Sir? The status."

"Sorry, yes," Rekio said, shaking his head in an attempt to clear his mind. "Currently we've been under siege, but it's calmed down a bit. It's inevitable that these ghosts will go for a second strike, but how they'll do it may be different."

"Understood. We'll continue to recruit volunteers to come help. Doomsday out."

"Your friends aren't going to help you," a hoarse voice said into Rekio's ears as he clicked off the comm.

The former Proconsul spun around to face a human spirit who stared at him almost hungrily. Instinctively he ignited his lightsaber.

"You! What are you here for?" Rekio demanded.

The spirit smiled as he stepped toward Rekio. At once the latter felt a strange sensation, as if he were being pushed to the side while his body stayed where it was.

"I'm here for you...Corsair," the spirit growled, and he sped toward Rekio.

Rekio moved to strike, but his lightsaber suddenly felt heavy in his hands. He attempted to extend his Force powers and enact his skills of the Keeper, but even his own necromancy seemed to work against him. In one moment, the spirit was gone, but Rekio felt a tightening in his chest as mist formed around him.

"No...no! Not this...not now!"

He struggled to remain standing, but the mist worked his way through every orifice, tightening his muscles as it penetrated his mind. Rekio resisted as much as he could, but even as he tried to grasp the darkness and use it as defense, he suddenly felt as if he'd lost all grip on his own mind and drifted as his body landed with a thud on the floor.

Why must help be so far away? he growled to himself before it seemed as if he had fallen into a dark void. He could not speak, and he could barely process a thought. And for the first time in a long while, a shred of helplessness settled into his mind.

As the real Rekio's spirit was shoved into a metaphorical corner, Drelus chuckled softly as he rose to his newly found feet. He flexed Rekio's arms and tested Rekio's eyes as he strolled upon the durasteel floor, admiring his new body. "A perfect fit," he growled; their skills matched beautifully. He retrieved Rekio's fallen lightsaber and placed it in his robes before smiling to himself.

It was a wonderful feeling to return to the flesh. Saryana had not been overexaggerating when she had discussed the notion with the other six; Drelus truly felt as if he were living again, even in stolen flesh. And now that Rekio was his, it was time to carry out what Saryana had left behind.

"Now let's see where the others headed off to," Drelus said to himself before he exited the room and disappeared around the corner.

Brimstone layed knocked out as Anshar and Dranik left the area to chat. The Jedi Hunter was unable to do anything but lay there.

A couple journeymen disembarked from a shuttle and saw his body just laying there. They hoisted him up and carted him back onto the shuttle, then they attempted to alert Oberst and Sith Bloodfyre that they found him hurt and unconscious, but no response came from either.

Afterwards, they hooked him up to the crude medical devices onboard and stood over watching him.



(minor edit to reflect continuity, BF is not able to be reached or hasn't been, and Oberst is extremely busy at this time.)

The Falleen licked his lips subtly as his ethereal eyes fell upon the weakest of the group. He had felt the Omwati at work sometime before, and his current physical frailty would only help his cause.
‘If Saryana was right...’
His penetrating stare caught Kazarelth perfectly. The Krath suddenly understood, and his eyes bulged into horrified discs. His lax grasp on Sato’s shoulder tightened considerably as he contemplated backing away. Sato felt his housemate’s grip stiffen. He could do nothing but wait for the Crystal spirit to make his move, as he extended his tendrils tenaciously. His eyes darted towards Archean who felt his tension. The blind Sith knotted the Force tendrils around his group, nodding minutely to his Quaestor. They would do anything to stop the barbaric spirit from taking over the Knight. Yet, there was an unease that hovered above the group like a rain-cloud. Ronovi felt her throat go dry. They had all seen the Fallen’s intention clearly now, and his inactivity only constricted their inability to act. Her mind was connected with the rest of the group intimately, yet she felt herself being drawn away. Something in the Falleen’s smile and his illusory corporealness made her think about landing a slash right across his chest.
“Just one slash” she murmured.
“Ronovi!” Dralin voice hissed in her mind, “It’s a spirit. You cannot do a thing to it.”
“I know, Dralin.” Her vindictive voice responded. She was angry with herself for thinking that way, yet she trailed back to the same line of thought. His body seemed so real. So real. She shook it off, seeing the shimmering unreality of the Falleen’s muscular figure. Yet now it seemed to solidify concretely. The veins plainly visible to her eye were pulsing with the green blood. His skin was breakable and it already showed strain. A lightsaber tear a clean cut through the scaly skin. Too easily, in fact.

And in a moment, the Epicanthix had broken the tendrils woven in her brain and slashed vainly at the ethereal spirit. The Falleen had disappeared and in a moment it was clear to her. These spirits possessed the powers of a Jedi. The Falleen’s projective telepathy skills had broken against even the combined prowess of the other members. She cursed and whipped around to see Kazarelth on his knees, choking with an unknown pain. Raiju and Merlance had their lightsabers pointed at his cowering figure, while Sato and Archean were reaching into the recesses of their minds, trying to think of anything that would work. Vampre and Dralin stood, helplessly.

Talismarr’s closed eyes were leaking tears of pain as his soul fought the overbearing Falleen’s. And he knew he was losing miserably; he knew it when his feet pulsed with power and he leapt up on them; he knew it when his hand formed a palm on its own and let loose an exotic array of Dark Energy at the nearest Tarenti.

--

The new body was a beautifully invigorating experience, he told himself. There was no pain in this form. None of the eternal fatigue plagued him here. Yet his soul could not stay along with the Omwati’s. The formless spirit of the weak Jedi was still powerful enough. But the Falleen had access to the same thoughts as the Krath’s. He could feel the irresistible urge to gather all knowledge throbbing below all that pain and fear. Lying behind all that sadism of torturing ghosts, he could see the fanatical pursuit of the secrets of Life and Death.

‘I’ll tell you.’ Kazarelth found the voice telling him. The pain was manageable now, however the loss of control of his body was not.

‘Tell me what?’ He replied indignantly.
‘Everything. Everything you have ever wanted to know. About the Shroud. About the Force. I have Seen.’
‘Prove it.’ The Omwati remained defiant, yet a sliver of interest passed through his brain.
‘See for yourself, mortal. Our minds are one.’
And as Krath watched, his heart leapt. The Falleen knew many things. Things even the greatest Necromancers of Tarentum did not. Yet some of the darkest mysteries were locked away. Even as he tried prising them open, they were just beyond Kazarelth’s skills.
‘And those will be your reward, youngling. Help me. And you will receive these and powers beyond any single Jedi. Consider this. The Falleen raised Talismarr’s palm and released a powerful mist of purple energy from his hand. It hit Sato Tarentae, who only defended himself with a shimmering shield of Force energy in time. The sheet hit the Force-Shield with a deafening thud. It dispersed with the shield, throwing Sato backward. The others were flattened with the energy. They groggily got up and backed away from the Omwati warily.

‘Powers more unimaginable than this would be at your call. And the Universe’s mysteries will open itself to you. Comply, and you will be rewarded.’

Talismarr slowly opened his eyes with his own will. He could see the extremity of the Falleen’s powers. He made his decision.

--

“They will take over each one of your warriors. Eroding them from within. Making them their slaves, whom they would kill later for pleasure. I am the hunter of these… vile things. They are all damned. Including your clan, that studies them. But I know that you and I are not all that different. If we work together, we can send all these to the Oblivion once and for all.”

Bloodfyre watched as the rumbling voice came from everywhere but the axe-holding figure. He thought about it, as the entire Clan’s cries came from afar to him, with its volume turned down; almost merging into mindless static. He hesitated. The weird Hunter was proposing everything that a Watcher would be against. But, now, the time was for exorcising the spirits from the MC80. And a mercenary would be handy.

“What can you do?” Sith asked.
The Hunter motioned for him to come closer, and pointed outside.

--

The orb floundered within the maze of the Renegade. The spirit locked within had caught glimpse of others like him, and heard the mention of the leader. And maybe their locations. It rolled across to the life-support systems. It could feel things vaguely as it swerved towards the cabin.

Each member of Archean's group had their own way of trying to handle the terrible situation before them, having been shoved to the ground by Kazarelth's sudden attack. The sudden flash of purple energy had been a shock to Ronovi; as strong as Kazarelth was, that was not in his range of power. She watched in horror as Kazarelth slowly opened his eyes, and they seemed to glow with an unnatural light.

"Kazarelth..." she whispered. "Kazarelth, what's wrong? What's happened to you?"

"Stay away from him," Sato growled. "He's no longer himself."

"Oh, I'm not, am I?" Kazarelth replied in a low and harsh tone as he stepped forward. Ronovi stared as he ignited his lightsaber. "Perhaps I'm more myself than I was ever before."

"Kazarelth, snap out of it! Fight the spirit!" Archean cried. He had a faint knowledge of what had happened; the Falleen had taken over Kazarelth's mind, coaxing him into submission. But some in the group probably did not recognize that, and as he looked around, he could see the confusion especially on Ronovi's face.

"Kazarelth, you've attacked us. What's the spirit done to you? Tell me!" she demanded.

"Done to me? What he's done for me is more like it!" Kazarelth said, a horrid laugh erupting from his throat. He brandished his lightsaber at the group, who did not dare move toward him as they felt the dark aura surrounding him. "Never before has such power come to me. Never before has it all made such sense."

"Sense!" Ronovi shouted. "Sense! To betray your friends, to mean to kill us, all for the sake of this thing that's taken hold of you?"

"Enough, Ronovi! Stay back!" Dralin commanded.

"No, no, Dralin," Kazarelth said, sneering. "Let her go on. Listen to her ignorance. We as Dark Jedi seek the secrets of true power! It's what you're here for, isn't it? Isn't it the answer to everything?! Power and knowledge, no matter what the cost?!"

The rage in Ronovi was building. This was not the Kazarelth she knew, the level-headed but powerfully minded Omwati from Cestus. This was corruption. Power was one thing, but power through unity was another. And she was not going to tolerate this madness any longer. She ignited her saber and raised it sharply.

"I'll bring your head back to its proper place!" she roared as she charged toward him.

"Ronovi, no!" she heard Archean bellow from behind her. Then the disorientation of her anger began to set in.

---

As Drelus made his way back toward the bridge in Rekio's body, he was becoming more aware of the whispers coming from the walls of the ship. He shook it off for a moment, not wanting to deal with the bloodthirsty Renegade spirits until a little late. But the whispers were adamant, and the mist swirled around Drelus as he halted.

"All right, then, what's your rush?"

"We desire the blood of the murderer to be spilled!" a voice from the mist hissed as the wisps began to take form. Drelus watched as the spirits appeared human in shape, though transparent and weak in their appearance. One crewman stepped forward.

"You and the other six promised us vengeance on the one that smeared our own blood upon these ships' walls," the crewman said, his voice hollow but impatient. "I want that damn Marshal dead!"

"If you truly wanted him dead, you would've done so by now," Drelus murmured as he took a step forward. The spirits only clustered closer around him.

"Not good enough, Jedi! He has more power than we thought. He can constantly hold us back, even though he may not be able to completely destroy us," another crewman objected.

Drelus snarled, "Are you all ghosts or not? Your powers reach far beyond you allegedly claim them to be. And you are strong in numbers. Now that I have this body, I may work stealthily among the Tarenti and tear them limb from limb as they gape at their alleged comrade in shock. You want the murderer? Get him yourself. Tear him apart; you have the capability. Don't come running to me when I, as well as the others, have been able to rally you up into such a massive force! Go! Claim your reward and seek your vengeance!"

The spirits stared on silently as Drelus went on his small tirade, for he was rather anxious to get going with his own tasks. He then slowly smiled as each ghost approved of his words as the mist faded from his vision. Adjusting his vision to the alternate plane, he watched as the mist rushed its way toward its target. At last, they could finally be focused without getting so foolishly disoriented by those pitiful Dark Jedi.

Speak of the Devil, he thought as he recognized three Dark Jedi quietly walking ahead of him down the corridor. He remembered that he meant to strike them down before he had sensed Saryana's demise, and now in this body, he could finally carry out his plan more subtlely. A smile appeared on "Rekio's" face as he strolled toward them from behind, his hand at his side casually as he meant to greet the Jedi - Apollo, Scion, and Troutrooper, as he now knew their names from prying into his victim's memory.

Time to take care of some unfinished business.

---

The duel was in truth brief, but to Ronovi, it lasted ages. Each strike she made, each parry she formed, seemed heavy and slow in her movements. As soon as her lightsaber had met Kazarelth's, she realized her fateful and perhaps last mistake as their weapons clashed and parted like two beacons of light. Red and purple blurred together in Ronovi's vision as she shouted with each swing, but even her skills seemed to fly away from her.

Kazarelth was no longer a Dark Jedi Knight, already too powerful for Ronovi to beat. He was now Xadon, the powerful Falleen Dark Jedi, and the dark arts he harbored were now infested in this Omwati's flesh, strengthening the host as a whole. Ronovi began to panick as she fought this new power futilely, and she begged for help from her comrades, but in her blurred Force senses she detected a barrier surrounding the two, as if Kazarelth was tauntingly holding the group members back with a terrible aura of defense.

Ronovi struck once more, swinging her lightsaber in an uppercut just to meet with Kazarelth. The energy blades lay angled toward her face, and as she attempted to pull away, the worse then happened. All she saw was a flash of purple before a horrible searing pain as half of her vision plunged into darkness.

With a horrible scream, the Epicanthix stumbled back, her hand pressed against her face as she dropped her lightsaber. In an instant, Kazarelth made a quick but terrible slice against the Epicanthix's adomen leading toward the thigh, and she wailed once more before landing with a terrible thud against the floor. She heard the harsh yells of her comrades as two strong arms lifted her up and carried her to the wall.

"You're lucky I didn't kill you, you foolish girl," Kazarelth hissed as Ronovi sank against the cold durasteel. "No, it won't be much fun to even let you slowly die. That will be good enough, at most, to let you suffer for your insolence." He laughed cruelly.

With the Force barricade gone, the group was free to approach the spirit, but despite what they had witnessed, they still moved cautiously. Dralin ignited his saber, but he looked to see Vampre and Raiju beside the mangled Ronovi, who with a stifled moan had removed her hand from her face. While the gash in her torso was hard to look at, Dralin muffled a cry when he saw the terrible black scar below her left eyebrow. Her eye was completely gone, stabbed out by Kazarelth's blade in Xadon's merciless grip.

"You monster!" he cried as he raised his weapon at the possessed Knight, but Kazarelth only laughed.

"You fools. Does this not stand as proof? It is not just I, Xadon, who possesses this power! Your friends are succumbing to the way of my allies. Our allies. This Omwati and I are one. Now when will you learn, Tarentum, that your last day is now? When will you learn?"

As he spoke, the mist began to form again, mercilessly thickening. Archean cursed as he attempted to reach into the folds of his mind, grasping what he knew of his own powers, while Merlance stood beside him. Donos and Adriel both stood on Archean's other side, their weapons at the ready as they solemnly looked at their enemy.

"Whatever happens, Archean, we are and remain Tarenti. Do not forget," Merlance said.

Ronovi from against the wall was in enough agony to not think clearly, but she could distinctly hear voices from the opposite corridor as she faintly saw the mist grow from her remaining eye. Raiju and Sato quickly rose, as they too had heard the voices and raised their weapons against the foe. She recognized Odin's voice as well as others.

"I hear our allies from up ahead! Hurry! It may not be too late!"

From a distance, Ronovi could see Kazarelth chuckle as the silhouettes of those of Tridens appeared. He calmly lowered his weapon as the mist slightly receded, as if it too were in a defensive stance.

"Ah, Casorrs has arrived," he said. "Now we'll have a little fun."

Anshar followed Stevenson down the remaining corridors. No other spirits appeared around them as they had before. The crew spirits had apparently taken to their stations, though that probably meant they were attacking the clan, or would be soon. Anshar just hoped that Stevenson’s plan would work, though the good commander had yet to reveal how he was going to do it. Anshar felt something stir and he looked down. Talitha’s eyes had opened, though she still looked weakened.

“Time grows short,” she said, her voice still low. “Do you feel more solid?” The question was a bit strange, but it made Anshar take notice. He did feel more solid, such as it were. His feet no longer seemed to float; instead, they made contact with the floor, although it would never feel the same as it did in a physical body. Even his clothes seemed to feel different.

“Yes,” replied Anshar.

“Then time is indeed growing short. Without death, a spirit can come and go from a body, but if it strays for too long, then it will be permanent. Oblivion calls you more strongly,” said Talitha. “Your lightsaber… it has a spiritual connection?”

“I guess,” replied Anshar. “I didn’t make it myself. It was a . . . gift.”

“I understand,” she replied. They turned a final corner and came to the bridge. Talitha motioned to Anshar and he let her down as she appeared to have regained her strength. Stevenson led them onto the bridge, with all three of them phasing through the door. Whatever had been keeping Stevenson from the bridge before, and Anshar surmised that it was other spirits, was no longer there. The bridge was practically empty, save for the imposing figure of Oberst. Being deep in thought did not stop the Marshal from noticing their presence, and turning to meet them.

Talitha took Anshar’s hand in her own, and then took Stevenson’s in the other. Closing her eyes, she concentrated, and allowed the mist like form of the outside world to take their true forms. Whereas Oberst could have once only seen a girl surrounded by the ghostly mist, he could now see Stevenson and Anshar. The Marshal of Tarentum looked at Anshar, then Stevenson, then Talitha, and finally back to Anshar. He then let loose a long, harsh laugh.

“If this just doesn’t make my day,” said Oberst sarcastically.

* * *

“Commander,” said Stevenson, saluting. “We haven’t much time.”

“Actually, you have no time,” hissed a voice. Suddenly appearing on the bridge was a multitude of the crew, though each one bore an officer’s rank. “Our crew will destroy your allies, but you, Commander, are ours. And Stevenson, you will suffer for your support of him, and for helping those two.”

“Wait, you don’t understand, I’ve come to arrest him!” protested Stevenson. His plea did not have any effect.

“Enough,” said Talitha abruptly. Her voice had changed drastically. “I grow very weary of this bickering on my plane. You are all unnatural and are destroying the balance so carefully crafted. Either you must pass on, or I shall send you to Oblivion with your latest mistress!”

“Shut your mouth, little girl,” spat one of the officers.

“I am no little girl!” Anshar finally took his eyes off of the spirits, looking down at Talitha. Though she was the same height and still had her very youthful appearance, things had most certainly changed, though without Anshar noticing at all. Her hair was now jet black. Her eyes were also black, but with little white specks in them that seemed to move. The power radiating from her was incredible. Raising her hand, she pointed a finger at one of the spirits and a split second later, the spirit appeared to be ripped apart by some strange force. The image and sound that accompanied it were akin to tearing a table cloth in half with one’s bare hands.

What struck Anshar the most, however, was that he recognized the power now coming from Talitha. His briefest of moments in its presence years before had left a profound impact upon Anshar, and certainly not one that anyone could forget. Looking over at Oberst, he saw the same understanding. Talitha was, like Shade and Tel’Ratha, a Keeper.

Slowly, Brimstone's mind was wandering slowly as he layed on the gurney from the concussion he had received. In his mind he replayed the instance his master had attacked him out of some reason only beknowing to Anshar.

Brimstone could feel the presence of the the two Journeymen and fellow clans mates hovering nearby as they watched and monitored. He could also hear them speaking about him.

"I don't care what you say, I think what this chiss got is what he deserves, arrogant bantha poodoo" said the female guardian.

"Yeah, he's rubbed alot of people the wrong way" replied the male jedi hunter. "Ever since he's been here, he has tried to exceed his power and assume command of us, like he thinks he is still in chiss ascendency. I even hear he was forcing others to do his kitchen duties that the Marshall forced on him."

"Yeah, I know, I was one there that day too working and watched him do it. Kriffing ticked me off, that's why I reported him."

The two continued to talk back and forth, apparently unaware that brimstone was slowly gaining conscienceness while they spoke. Brimstone concentrated on the Force while trying to block out their conversation. Slowly his head and neck started healing as he layed there. He had to wake up and find out what cause his master to attack him. The only two plausible results was either his master was not himself anymore or that he was trying to get him out of the way before Dranik attacked. Either way he came to the same conclusion, one of them was possessed.

Then Brimstone remembered one of his rudamentary powers he had learned a year ago, but never really used it. Projective Telepathy. A way to communicate with others through their minds and the Force. He concentraited on the two that was nearby.

"Anshar attacked me" thought the jedi hunter. The female guardian heard the voice in her head and stopped talking to look at Brimstone.

"Hush, I think he is trying to communicate with me."

"How so?" asked the jedi hunter.

"He just projected himself into my mind. Something about Anshar attacked him."

"How can that be, he is our consul. He isn't supposed to attack us, is he?"

"I don't know, maybe he got possessed like others we been hearing about. Either way, we are in trouble if he comes back. We got to get help" as she replied. "Brimstone, if you can hear me, we are going to get help."

The two left the area. They pulled out their lightsabers, but did not ignite them, just got them ready just incase.

***

"So she is a Keeper" thought Anshar to himself as he watched Talitha obliterated the ghostly officer. His screams were deafening.

Oberst stood up from his meditation and watched Talitha work. One by one, the spirits were ripped apart, except Anshar and Stevenson, who she didn't destroy.

"We have to work fast to get Anshar back into his body or he will be like these ghosts, permanent in this realm" spoke Talitha.

"I agree, we need to get back to where he is so he can repossessed his true form" replied Oberst. "With the comms malfunctioning, we will have to search every inch of this ship to find him.

***

Dranik was engaged with Anshar now. Both of them skilled in their lightsaber techniques, they were near equals. But with Anshar possessed by Adamu, he had a more intense attack style of a person beyond enraged. Dranik was more on the defensive than he thought he would ever had to be.

"You do not know your full potential to destroy Dranik" stated Anshar. "Just let my commrads take over you and you will learn your portential."

"I much rather learn on my own than have an idiot corrupt me to a point I would hate myself" Dranik spat back with a upercut slash at Anshar's face.

Anshar deflected it easily and dropped to a spinning round kick at Dranik's legs. Dranik flipped over backwards and landed with a defensive stance. Anshar tumbled forward and hurled himself with a downward slash. Dranik took the full blunt of the attack with his lightsaber, propelling him backwards stumbling. Anshar continued the assault.

***

Brimstone was finally able to open his eyes as his injury subsided. As he sat up and rubbed his head, he couldn't get it out of his mind what the two had said about him.

"So most everyone here is tired of me. I been trying to show my worth and gain approval from everyone, but I guess it was nil" thought the jedi hunter. "Time to try a different tact and maybe actually forget myself and all I know so I can work to be like them."

Brimstone got up and got his shirt and jacket back on. He put back on his charrics and lightsaber before leaving the shuttle to go try to find his master and to confront him about the attack.

Whomever this “Hunter” was, he seemed to be signaling that their prey was waiting for them. Bloodfyre had about as much trust in this newfound “ally” as he did in any of the spirits that were roaming the ship. It seemed oddly convenient for someone to show up on this ship of nightmares that just happened to be like a lighthouse amongst the shadows. The Hunter had pointed outside of the lounge, and was now walking towards the door to head back into the ship. Bloodfyre glanced after him cautiously, and then moved to follow.

The doors to the lounge did not open, but a guest moved through them nonetheless. And it was an unwanted guest for certain. Looking charred and ragged, even beyond death, Saryana limped slowly into view. If it were possible for a Force spirit to have died, it seemed she would’ve been the closest to such a death. Her shimmering appearance looked weaker than that of other spirits roaming the ship, including this “Hunter” beside the Sith Master.

“Saryana…” Bloodfyre whispered the name, but she had easily heard him.

“You and your kind… are no longer wanted here, Master Bloodfyre,” Saryana’s voice was perhaps a harsh whisper, more tainted by rage than actual injuries. “We were content to lure you in and take you alive. And now you shall have no such fortune with us. Join those you seek to dominate, Keeper!”

The flames that had seared Saryana paled in comparison to the waves of rage that shot out from her body, radiating much like ripples of hatred and despair through the Force. Whomever the Hunter was, he had reason to fear this shimmering woman’s attack, apparently. The Hunter turned and ran away from Saryana, past Bloodfyre and through the room’s wall to the opposite side. Sith Bloodfyre was certainly subject to the attack, though not without defense. The Sith Master raised his hands and drew out to the Dark Side, channeling it through his knowledge and skill with Necromancy to form a protective barrier of what could be termed as “living Force.”

The waves of Saryana’s pain and hatred battered against the barrier that Sith had erected, and even assailed him personally, even beyond the strength of the barrier he was able to erect. The Shaevalian’s face contorted and twisted in obvious pain, but his strength managed to hold true. The spirit woman’s attack ceased, but Bloodfyre had not escaped cleanly. His entire body ached, but it was much more than physical pain. The attack had assailed his very soul, the energy that was his being.

And Saryana had only just begun.

She stood there looking as if breathing heavily. Sith knew from long years of research that it was less a physical need to breathe than a remembered action that was soaked with rage. Force spirits often mimicked a physical response of anger and rage when they were beyond their boiling points. And Saryana was fuming. Sith’s hands were raised in a slightly defense position, ready to erect his barrier once more if needed.

“That little brat thought to destroy me,” Saryana growled.

“She must not have known that it takes more than the Force to destroy your kind,” Bloodfyre responded, unsure of who she was speaking. Knowing Saryana though, and in her present condition, she would probably reveal more. “Some of our Clan are not as initiated as the rest of us.”

“That little whelp was not one of yours, Bloodfyre,” Saryana stalked closer, “even though your new Consul seems to be keeping her as a pet. No, I’ll enjoy torturing that little one for the rest of her life, for what she’s done to me.”

“You talk too much, witch.”

The Hunter had apparently been protected from Saryana’s wrath, and now returned through the walls to stand against the Dark Jedi spirit that stood before him. With his axe held in both hands with a very familiar grasp, the Hunter stopped several feet to the side of Bloodfyre, looking straight at Saryana.

“I am here to end the bane that is your existence, witch,” the Hunter continued. “Go back to hell and stay there.”

“Fool,” Saryana extended a hand and sent a wave of Force energy towards the Hunter. The man raised his axe out in front of him as though it were a shield, but whatever he had intended to defend himself apparently would not work. The rage of Saryana hit him like waves against the beach, and seemed to shiver the shimmering form of the Hunter, almost as though the spirit was coming in with bad reception in some holodrama. The Hunter screamed in obvious agony.

“You have never been strong enough to challenge us, Hunter,” Saryana continued. “Go back to whatever heaven you seek. You are no longer welcome here, either.”

“You cannot destroy me, Saryana,” the Hunter returned. “Though you may hurt me, I am bound to the Force, and it will keep me here until my task is done.”

The emotion and power within the room must have been a beacon to others. Bloodfyre glanced about the room as shimmering forms began to pool into the lounge through the walls and doors leading into, and out of, the off duty lounge. Dozens of shimmering beings were flooding the room now, all focused on Saryana and the Hunter, apparently. The forms were those of the ships crew, various crew men and women of all stations and ranks, except officers. Sith wasn’t the only one who noticed the new arrivals, however. Saryana took her attention off of the Hunter momentarily and turned to glance around at her apparent new-found allies.

“Well, if I cannot destroy you, Hunter, then perhaps we can just make you scream,” Saryana’s tone was quite lethal. “A lot.”

The Hunter glanced around the room, and then turned his head back to Bloodfyre.

“Any tricks you have, now would be the time to use them.”

Sith glanced at the Hunter, but did not respond to the being. The Hunter intended to drive back and destroy these Force spirits. Sith would’ve preferred to have enslaved and studied them, bound them to his will, and used them to further his own power. It was quite obvious that there was a situation here that would even be more than the Sith Master could handle, even with the “help” of this Hunter.

“I can think of one.”

Sith took his lightsaber in hand and quickly ignited one of the blades and ran towards the exit of the lounge. Drawing out to the Dark Side, Sith was able to utilize his powers to thin the Shroud just enough to cause these Force spirits pain. With every slash or stab of his weapon that struck one of the spirits, their cries of pain and rage filled the room. The attacks could never hope to destroy them; Sith didn’t have the time or the assistance to conjure up something to destroy even one of the spirits, much less many of them. He was able to drive an opening through them to get to, and out of, the door as quickly as possible, and then drew upon the Force to enhance his own speed. Sith hadn’t looked back to see if the Hunter had followed him out, but as he turned his head to see if he was being followed, the Hunter was there.

“Not quite… what I had in mind, Dark Sider,” the Hunter said as they both ran. The Hunter did not float, or fly; he walked, or ran. Nearly all of the spirits did, and would. The only ones who would fly were those who actually had Force abilities in life, and could still use them at least for effect in the life beyond.

“What you had in mind was suicide, spirit,” Bloodfyre responded. “And though I probably could’ve prevented that for me, I’d much rather keep those spirits in shape to bind later. Your quest for cleansing is not my concern.”

“Spoken like a true Sith,” the Hunter shook his head as they ran.

Bloodfyre smirked, but did not respond. The two kept running down the halls. Something in Bloodfyre’s mind kept telling him that they would need to regroup. The huge question was, where to regroup at? Thinking for several long moments, and knowing certain members of the Clan as well as he did, Bloodfyre began to form an idea of the first place to check. The two turned down one hallway, with Bloodfyre taking the lead, and thus, deciding their destination. It wouldn’t take them too long at this pace to make it to the bridge.

But Bloodfyre and the Hunter were not alone.


* * * * *


The bridge seemed suddenly empty of Force spirits. Talitha had showed a seemingly impressive display of power, one which now seemed to have drained her of anything except a sleepy, child-like attitude.

“Are they gone?” Stevenson probably would’ve been timid, except for the fact that he had been an officer under Oberst’s command.

“I do not know,” Talitha almost yawned. “I was never any good with my brothers’ friends. They never liked me. I never liked them. But I could get them to leave me alone sometimes.”

Anshar’s shimmering form looked at Oberst. The Marshal seemed intent upon Talitha, though perhaps for a different reason that the Consul. Anshar seemed to find a certain amount of interest in the little ancient.

“She seems to have troubles remembering her life,” Oberst said quietly. “Either that, or her memory is somehow jumbled.”

“Have Shade or Tel’Ratha ever talked about the rest of their kind?” Anshar moved closer to the big human.

“Perhaps, but nothing specific. At least, not to me. I’d have to speak with Master Zero, or the Keepers to find out anything specific about her. Either way, I don’t believe she’s exactly herself, if that’s what you mean,” Oberst finished.

The little girl definitely had power. But where Masters Shade or Tel’Ratha were in full control of their abilities and had the power to command legions of souls with but a word, Talitha seemed almost unaware of her powers, incapable of using them, except under extreme duress.

Talitha’s eyes had closed. The child who was most certainly not young seemed to be sleeping on her feet. Perhaps what powers she did have when she needed them were taking their toll, and would certainly not be appearing as often as certain members of the Clan would’ve liked.

“You’re going to pay for that little outburst, child. You have no idea.”

“And Maxamillian, you’re going to join your little friend in what we have planned for her torment…”

With Ronovi against the wall missing her one eye Donos felt more scared then anything. The mist was now come closer and getting thicker. With Kazareleth looking over everyone, he noticed the two young apprentices of Archean.

With Kazareleth’s lightsaber ignited he started to charge the youngest of the group. Archean quickly ignited his saber and went to block Kazareleth’s attack. With Kazareleth getting stronger was giving Archean a run for his money. With Donos and Adriel standing beside Merlance they watched their master fight there once ally. Merlance couldn’t handle his friend fighting the monster alone and activated his lightsaber and joined into the fight.

With Sato, Vampre, and Dralin standing there watching their friends fight each other. Sato decides that Kazareleth was too much of a threat and he jumped in to the battle. Leaving the three protectors and Dralin to stay by Ronovi’s body.

“Master all of us just can’t hold them back ourselves when need to get the rest of Tarentum that is on the ship and form a larger group.” Yelled Donos.

Archean just was way to busy fighting to answer his apprentice. Even with the help of Sato and Merlance, Kazareleth was still giving them trouble. All the attacks and parry is just enough just to keep them on even grounds with their enemy.

Vampre sat back as Archean continued to fight. “If only I knew more about necromancy.” thought Vampre “Then I would be able to help.” As Kazareleth struck again and again at Archean Vampre tried to summon up some power.

His feeble attempt did nothing. With a sigh Vampre looked up. “Archean look out!” He screemed as Kazareleth swung his lightsaber down on Archean’s head. Archean was just barely able to doge the attack and knocked Kazareleth’s lightsaber away and out of sight. “NOOOOO!” Kazareleth yelled. Using the force Kazareleth pushed everyone back to the wall. Kazareleth walked up to Merlance, his eyes glowing with hate and forced the lightsaber out of his hand. He then used the force to throw Merlance into the air across the room.

Vampre ran up to help in the fight. “Vampre NO!” screamed Donos. “he’s too powerful!” Ignoring Donos, Vampre ran up to Kazareleth who simply thrusted him away. “I don’t have time for you protector” He said. Vampre hit the wall hard. Vampre could see his own blood flowing to the ground as he went into unconciousness. And as he started to fade out the last words he heared were,

"And now Archean prepare to die."

Odin's heart pounded as he and his group raced down the corridor to see the other group in a massive conflict. Kazarelth had been in intense combat with Archean, their lightsabers merely a blur as they came together and apart again. He was able to recognize several faces, both from Cestus and Gladius, before noticing his apprentice on the floor. Vampre appeared to be unconscious, bleeding from a massive gash in his head, as he lay a few feet away from an apparently half-blinded Ronovi.

"Vampre!" Odin shouted as he and Kyra raced toward the others. Archean was attempting to hold off Kazarelth, but he was slowly losing resistance on him. Unbeknownst to Odin, it was the Knight's strength combined with Xadon's power that was slowly pressing Archean into the floor.

"And now, Archean," Kazarelth hissed, "prepare to die."

"Don't, Odin! Don't get close!" Archean cried out, his voice hoarse as he raised his blade against the Omwati's face. The Omwati only laughed harshly, though it seemed as if the laugh was strained and losing volume.

"But you need help!" Odin cried out.

"No time for that! The spirits are about to attack!" Archean shouted as he saw the mist regroup out of the corner of his eye. A sudden screeching noise confirmed his presumption. "Here they come!"

As he suddenly gained a slight bit more ground, Archean focused on aiming for any weakpoint. Though it seemed that even though Kazarelth was physically frail, the Force aura was overwhelming. The blind swordsman wondered how much longer he could hold on.

"Group up with me!" He heard Odin shout to his fellow Tridenians as the mist swirled about them.

As Odin went into a defensive fight with his saber ignited, he suddenly saw Sato attempting to channel some necromantic power toward the ghosts, but it was feeble against the swarm and only seemed to slightly disorient them. As he first saw Raiju and Merlance trying to put up barriers against the spirits, he heard Xayun's screams over the chaos as he attempted to defend Archean.

"Get away! Get away, you bastard!" Xayun roared as he fired at Kazarelth, missing purposely but disorienting him enough to give Archean more of a chance to attack the Omwati while he had no workable lightsaber. They meant to overpower the Knight, not kill him, despite the power he now held.

As Odin moved around, attempting to fight off the mist, he watched several of his Housemates knocked to the ground as they fired or swung their weapons uselessly. At that moment, Odin stepped back as he attempted to delve into his Force powers and firmly hold onto them - just as a lightsaber was aimed against his throat.

Odin didn't turn his head, but he sensed in shock that it was Cypha, his own ally, holding the Quaestor close to the blade. The Guardian laughed hideously before saying in a thick Duros accent, "You shouldn't have been so cocky. Now you shall pay with your blood."

---

With the spirits ravenously coming in upon them, Dralin knew that all was hopeless even with the numbers they had. It didn't seem to matter if they had fifteen or fifteen hundred; without a more than powerful grasp in the dark arts, it didn't seem as if they were ever going to beat them. Fortunately, the group was distracting the ghosts and the possessed enough so that he could focus on the wounded. He watched as Donos tended to the unconscious Vampre before he heard Ronovi's faint from beside him.

"Dralin...Dralin, please..."

Dralin turned to see the Epicanthix peering up at him, her remaining eye watering as she breathed harshly from the wound in her side. He was suddenly reminded of when Ronovi was injured on Karideph by thud bugs, but this was much, much worse. He kneeled beside her and propped her head up as she looked at him. Dralin shook his head sadly at her predicament, as Ronovi's expression was that of pain and anger.

"We need to get you off this ship, Ronovi. You can't stay here like this."

"Dralin..."

"There should be reinforcements coming. They'll take you back and have you treated--"

"Who's going to come, Dralin?" Ronovi suddenly snapped, startling the Jedi Hunter. "Look at all this! Look at me! We're lucky enough that one stray ghost hasn't been bored enough to kill the wounded! But is anyone coming? No. And if they do come, they'll come too late, or they'll die trying to reach us."

"Don't say that, Ronovi," Dralin demanded as he watched the conflict once more. His eyes widened as he saw Archean attempting to fight off Kazarelth and the sight of Cypha behind Odin, holding his lightsaber to the Tridens Quaestor's throat. "I have to go. Donos, take care of her and Vampre for now. Get Adriel to help you and be on your guard."

"Yes, sir," Donos replied, and Adriel nodded from a few feet away. Dralin rose slowly before activating his lightsaber and moving toward the clustered members of both groups, many of them recovering from minor blows.

Ronovi watched miserably as the fight continued. Though the pain in her side seemed to dull into an ache as the cauterized wound seemed to lose its potency, she still felt the terrible burning feeling as if a hole had been bored into her skull as her right eye flickered from side to side before it blurred with senseless tears. A warrior was not meant to grovel even in the worst of situations, and in the back of her mind, a voice nagged her that it was only making her stronger. But the loss of her eye had only sunken her spirit, and she strictly believed that her own irrationality had finally taken its toll. She breathed deeply and stared at the ceiling as if praying to a Deity.

Help us. Please, somebody help us.

Odin activated his own lightsaber and quickly blocked the lightsaber Cypha held to his throat. “You think you can win?” said Cypha with that Duros accent “You can’t stop us. We are the ones who hold you all by the throat.” Odin swung at Cypha again only to be blocked. “your no match for us sith!” Odin ducked as Cypha took on the offensive. “You will never win!” Cypha was starting to scream. “And we will cast you into oblivion!” Cypha took one large swing at Odin who was able to block it just in time.

“No. We are not the ones who will be went to oblivion. But neither shall you! Sending you to oblivion would be to merciful. You have no idea what a skilled necromacer can do to you! You will receive a fate worse than oblivion! You messed with the wrong clan! I will make you pay for what you have done.”

Donos was tending to Vampre and Ronovi when Vampre slowly regained conciousness.

All Vampre could see was blackness. “Is this oblivion?” thought Vampre. He then began to see flashes of his past. “No not again. I can’t stand looking at my past again. If I do I’ll go insane!” But the visions came. He could here the screaming of children, the buzzing of a lightsaber, and the crash of an ATM. He could see all those he killed, those he tortured, and those he had left for dead. He could see the death of his brother and then a searing pain in his head swelled up.

“where am I?” asked Vampre. “Vampre! Your alive! I thought we had lost you there for a minute.” said Donos. “Is Archean okay?” Vampre asked. “He’s fine. Don’t worry.” said Donos. Is…. Is that Odin? Vampre asked.

Odin attacked Cypha again and again, but so far no luck in getting a good strike. Odin was striking in every direction, trying to disarm Cypha. He did not want to hurt him, but at the same time could not let him harm the others. "Cypha! don't let him control you Cypha!" said Odin. "You weak fool, Cypha is not your ally any more." said Cypha. "Damn you!" shouted Odin. Odin looked over, relived to see Vampre still alive. Cypha struck at Odin barely missing. "Prepare to die sith." said Cypha

Kyra saw her master in trouble as Cypha attacked him with impossible ability for a Guardian. As she ran over the Jedi Hunter heard the Duros accented voice come from Cypha. What! Now these spirits possess us? thought Kyra as she drew her concealed lightsaber from behind her robes. Igniting the saber the Dathomiri launched at Cypha blocking his attack on Odin. The possessed Guardian was strong and quickly pushed Kyra out of the way.

The battle had turned to the Dark Jedi. Odin using his power to keep Cypha away from his apprentice, who was giving Odin time to reconcile his powers in order to weaken the Guardian.

“Kyra, watch out” shouted Odin, as a lightsaber blade nearly missed the Jedi Hunter’s torso as she quickly hurled out of the way. This is relentless Kyra thought as she kept swinging her blade at the Guardian. Odin had pushed Cypha against the wall as the Journeyman stared down the face of the Sith Warrior laughing.

“You can’t win, Dark Jedi,’ sneered the Duros within Cypha, “more of us come”

Odin could see the journeyman struggling to overcome his possession, he was screaming inside, his eyes showed the pain and anguish. Then he saw the Twi'lek spirits approach them again.

Cypha pushed Odin away again and both continued to fight, though it seemed as if the Guardian was weakening. As the two fought Kyra came at Cypha angry at the Duros spirit, she was ready to do what ever was necessary to get the spirit out of the Journeyman, The Guardian began to slip as his body weakened from the possession, but the power of the Duros kept Cypha engaged with the Sith Warrior. Kyra came around swinging he saber while the two were locked in battle just cutting slightly threw the flesh of Cypha’s back with her blade.

The Guardian swung around, “You will pay for that Dark Jedi,” hissed the Duros.

Cypha was screaming inside his head not to attack the Hunter, but no use.

The others near them were engaged in the spirits that came at them, Kazarelth was possessed and the others that were not injured where trying to hold back the oncoming force. Twi’lek spirits closed in, Odin saw it, but could do nothing as he was occupied with his possessed journeyman. Once this fight was over he could take on the others but for now Tridens Quaestor watched as the Duros spirit attacked his apprentice.

Kyra screamed in pain as Cypha’s blade lashed out. She was not quick enough to escape it. The Jedi Hunter had attacked with her lightsaber, only trying to slow down the Guardian, maybe weaken him enough to force out the spirit, but once the blade touched the flesh Cypha turned around and his saber blade cut up threw the Jedi Hunter’s arm. Now disarmed and on the ground in pain, the Guardian went for the final blow just as Odin, angered and furious with the Duros, threw him into the side of the ship, knocking the Guardian unconscious and leaving Kyra alive. The Duros spirit disengaged from his body and flew off toward Odin, with the other angry spirits close behind.

Odin sensed that Cypha was still holding on to life, but still unconscious. The Quaestor had little time to do anything for his journeymen as the spirits attacked once again.

With the ghosts coming at Odin at full speed, the Quaestor had little time to think. He raised his saber and attempted to channel his Force powers toward the ghosts in a barricade, but while some were slightly driven back, Casorrs, the Duros, penetrated right through Odin's defenses. Those of Tridens stopped their fighting to watch in shock as Odin choked for breath and fell down to one knee as the spirit disappeared from everyone's view.

While Kazarelth and those fighting paid no heed to the happenings, as they were deep in combat, the tension was thick as Odin writhed for a moment before slowly raising his head in a cruel smile. Casorrs now had better practice from his possession of the foolish Guardian, so taking this one's body was much easier despite the latter's stronger mindset. And the best part was that this Jedi was much stronger.

"Better," Odin growled in the Duros's voice, "much better."

The Tridenians stared in horror as their own Quaestor took his saber in hand and laughed cruelly as he faced his apprentice. Kyra stared wide-eyed back at him, cradling the stump that was once her arm while praying that her master would not come closer.

Fight him, Master...for our sake, FIGHT HIM.

She was suddenly distracted by a small groan coming from where Cypha had fallen; Odin also looked as the Guardian stirred. Kyra watched as he regained his senses and was slowly readjusting to moving on his own. While perhaps he may have celebrated it, it was short-lived as he turned to face the wounded Kyra.

"Kyra..." he whispered. "Your arm...I'm so sorry."

"Oh, how sentimental," Odin snarled, laughing raucously as he raised his saber. "Enough! I'll deal with you first, girlie, since you're the one who decided to throw me off balance."

"You'll do no such thing!" Cypha shouted as he stumbled onto his feet, but his wounds only made him fall against the wall painfully. Kyra looked down at the lightsaber in her remaining hand before she stood up.

"Just you try," she whispered, and as she pointed her saber as threateningly as she could, she thought of nothing but the well-being of her master.

---

Ronovi watched as Dralin was pressed against the wall as the spirits came upon him before Sato came to his rescue, putting up his shield once more in order to defend the Jedi Hunter. With pain still receding from her side, Ronovi was able to stand with only some difficulty, pushing against the wall with her hand in order to keep her balance. She turned her head slightly to see Archean and Kazarelth grappling. Even with Merlance's lightsaber, Kazarelth still resorted to his Force powers in order to hold Archean further down.

No help was yet arriving, and Ronovi thought fast. Retreating was not an option this time, and she wouldn't merely remain collapsed like a victim. Despite not having the advantage of full vision, her remaining eye was still sharp as she focused on the Omwati's thin frame.

She remembered telling Kazarelth about how she had read the story of the girl on the ship; it had not been the only ghost story she read. With her sister acting much like a Krathling without even being in the Brotherhood, Ronovi knew some myths about ghost possession. As she scoped her mind for concocted solutions on how to break the ghost free from the body, she watched as Kazarelth made a sudden movement that threw Archean off balance and lost him his grip of his lightsaber. In the next moment, Kazarelth was holding Merlance's saber to Archean's throat.

"Such disrespect for the true power of the darkness," Kazarelth rasped, his voice becoming more distorted with each word. "Now let me show you how you really make ends meet."

It was at that moment that everything appeared to lapse into slow motion, and Ronovi concentrated. The only thing she could think of now was the last resort; she had read of an adventurer who apparently conquered a stranger possessed by a demon by driving a dagger halfway to the hilt into the victim's chest. While the wound was not deep enough to kill the human, the demon, fearing that it would die with the body, broke free and disappeared.

With her own injuries and lack of experience, Ronovi knew that this would all come down to luck. And since no one would be willing to hurt Kazarelth, she would do it, as her own rage was pent up not only to Xadon, but also to Kazarelth for giving in to the Falleen so easily.

In a sudden rush of energy, Ronovi raced over to Dralin, who was still pressed against the wall, and grabbed his hand that was closed around his lightsaber's hilt.

"Give me your lightsaber," she growled.

"What are you doing?" Dralin demanded, startled as Ronovi tried to feebly grapple with him.

"Give me your lightsaber. I've lost mine." When Dralin still resisted, Ronovi focused her one eye upon his and shrieked, "Give it to me!"

In the next moment, she was ignoring Dralin's shouts and hobbling toward Kazarelth, who appeared to take his time to savor his newfound victory over Archean. Donos and Adriel attempted to rush over, but Kazarelth raised a barrier to push them back, allowing by his own distraction to let Ronovi through. As Kazarelth raised his weapon in order to behead Archean, Ronovi swooped in from his right side, roaring as she did so, and drove Dralin's lightsaber halfway into Kazarelth's side before yanking it out.

Silence befell the entire room; even the ghosts and Odin had turned their heads to see Kazarelth pull away from Archean in shock, dropping Archean's lightsaber onto the floor. His eyes bulged as he breathed in and out, and with blazing yet pain-filled he turned to look at Ronovi.

"You...you..."

And before he could choke out another word, Kazarelth tumbled to the ground, breathing harshly. The rest of the group looked on before turning toward Ronovi in silent shock.

"Ronovi..." Archean's sightless eyes grew dull as he raised his head. "...why?"

"I had to," Ronovi whispered. "He...he could've killed you! He could've..."

She cut herself off and looked upon the wound, discovering with surprise that the wound was not as deep as she thought. However, Kazarelth appeared to be in enough of a state of pain and injury to not be capable of being manipulated without frailty. His body convulsed again, and a sudden bellow erupted from him as Xadon pulled himself from Kazarelth's body and moved across the floor.

"You fool," he snarled, though even as a spirit he appeared shaken. "You may have driven me from a devoted host, but it is not enough to destroy me. You think you've found the solution when you've only thrown your comrade to the dogs!"

"He's not dead!" Xayun shouted, who had rushed over to Kazarelth's body in order to check his vitals. In fact, Kazarelth had already begun to stir.

"No matter!" Xadon bellowed as he turned to Odin. "Casorrs, it is no longer time to dawdle. Let me pick out the second best here and we'll kill the rest!"

"Not if I can help it," Archean's voice growled. "Back to work, Tarentum!"

The chaos began again as if it had never ended, with Archean and Kyra both approaching Odin as the ghosts resumed their strike against the other members. This time, however, Merlance - retrieving his lightsaber as it had fallen to the ground - and Raiju rose to face Xadon as he moved through the air in hopes of finding another body. Also, Sato moved quickly over to Kazarelth's body, and, using the same technique he had used on Ronovi earlier, he began to nurse the Omwati back into stable health.

As she stumbled back toward the wall, her strength leaving her again, Ronovi couldn't help but notice that the battle all felt different somehow. It was as if, for the first time, that the power of the two forces had practically evened out. Though the pain from moving so much was returning and hindering him in walking, much less fighting, Ronovi suddenly felt confidence building up in her. Perhaps, she said with a smile, even the dead can grow weary in their toil.

Dranik looked up and at Anshar as the Master approached, blade held at the ready for an attack as Dranik counted to fall back from the last attack, pulling Anshar further into the halls of the ship and away from where he knew people were at. “You can not hope to win Dranik, give it up.” Anshar said in a very commanding tone.

“You should know that I will not do that, Anshar. But then, you are not you and I cannot allow you to harm the others,” retorted Dranik as he brought his saber around in front of him, both hands on the hilt with the blade running from one shoulder down to his hands on the opposite side at his waist. Anshar struck again in a straight downward swing, Dranik swung his blade up to deflect the blow easily enough. It was odd to Dranik, that his former master was being so aggressive but with only one blade and only one hand on the hilt to that blade.

Anshar swung again, and again, the blows being deflected back with a counter by Dranik. Anshar’s attacks came rapidly but were not actually well thought out and seemed to be more of rash swing attacks than actual attacks. With each attack Dranik kept pushing himself back down the hallway they had wondered into. “So what do you seek to accomplish here anyways? You control our Consul and yet you stay here and fight like you are after something” Dranik asked as he jumped back a few feet as Anshar’s blade just barely missed its mark.

“It is simple what I seek. I seek your death and those of your kind.” Anshar replied as he raised a hand and let out a blast with the force throwing Dranik back and sending him sliding down the a halls leaving the Prelate’s robes tattered and revealing that navy blue armor he always wears underneath them. “So you are a warrior and not a lover.” Spoke Anshar as the armor was exposed.

Dranik slung his lightsaber down the hallway at Anshar which was just deflected to the side as it went spinning off behind the Master, staying ignited for a few moments on the ground before the blade finally just shut off. “Nice try, but I think you missed.”

Dranik drew the dual Westar-34s he kept at his side and started to open fire at Anshar from his place on the ground. Anshar drew his second blade as he saw the flash of the silver guns being drawn and placed the blade in front of him. As the bolts quickly approached Anshar attempted to ignite the second blade and to his surprise found that the blade would not engage and it just sat lifelessly. Anshar swung the other blade around sending bolts wildly into the walls. “I didn’t miss” Dranik said as one of the stray bolts struck Anshar in the left knee causing the Master to drop to the ground with a snarl of pain.

“You are going to pay for that” Anshar snarled as he reached out with the force and yanked both blasters from Dranik’s hands sending them sprawling across the floor. Dranik quickly pushed himself up to his feet and reached out to pull his Lightsaber to him. The blade flew past Anshar’s head and the master raised his hand and pointed it at Dranik “I think not.” He said as an arc of electricity flew from his hands and struck Dranik. The Prelate let out a scream as voltage after voltage of the force created electricity was pumped into his body. Dranik quickly dropped down to his knees, unable to hold himself up any longer. When the onslaught stopped Dranik was down on his knees, what was left of his robes and his armor smoking. Blood was running down his face from his mouth and from one of his eyes.

“I will deal with you later; you are not a threat now anyways.” Anshar said as he picked Dranik up with the force and threw him hard against the nearby bulkhead wall. A loud crack was heard as his left side slammed into the wall and fell limp, the sound making it painfully obvious, not to mention the cry Dranik let out that his arm had been broken in more than one place. With this Anshar turned and started walking away with a rather pronounced limp from his blown knee replacement, putting the non-working blade back into its place and turning off the other but keeping it held in his hand leaving Dranik laying on the floor bleeding and unconscious.

Adamu reached out with his senses and searched the ship and he let out a low growl as he turned a corner and stopped. “What?! I thought you were taking care of already….Well then Lady Saryana..I will get rid of you myself then.”

Anshar couldn’t help but feel a bit nervous. Talitha had taken on a different form, much to the obvious consternation of the ship’s spirits, and her display of power had done little to help the situation. And now she appeared to be resting, though she was not asleep.

“Torment me?” she asked rhetorically. “All I want is for you to leave me alone.”

“You teamed up with Maxamillian-”

“Hardly,” scoffed Talitha, cementing in Anshar’s mind that her personality had changed along with her appearance. “Say what you will, but I only made a contract with that one.” She pointed at Anshar. “His oversized Kowakian monkey-lizard of a friend does not concern me.” At this point, Anshar really couldn’t tell if Talitha was being serious, or simply playing her cards right. A small ripple moved through the Force. Anshar and Oberst cast a glance at each other.

“She may not realize she did it,” said Anshar quietly. Just as a Jedi could influence others, Talitha’s words were having an influence on the assembled sprits, at least momentarily. Some laughed at the comments, others whispered quietly to each other, probably about the unnecessary claim to want to hurt their girl. But, the influence quickly ended, proving that Talitha had little control over what she was actually doing. It was mostly instinct.

“Oberst, can you contact the Doomsday?” asked Anshar. Oberst nodded. Without a word, Oberst keyed a message into the comm system. Whether he had been thinking about it all along, or knew what Anshar was going to ask of him, he relayed the command. Normally, it would have been spoken, but with a host of angry spirits around, they did not need to know what was going on.

* * *

“Uh, sir, we’re receiving a type face message from the Renegade,” said the comm officer.

“What does it say?” demanded Armus.

“Its orders from Marshal Oberst, sir,” replied the comm chief. “He’s telling us to fire on the Renegade.”

“You can’t be serious?”

“All the clearances check out.” Armus stared out at the MC80, wondering just what Oberst was up to.

“Tactical, give me a firing solution on the MC80,” ordered Armus. “And make certain we avoid the essential systems.”

“Aye, sir,” replied the tactical officer. He gave out his own instructions and within seconds had the firing solution. “Sir, solution is locked in.”

“Fire,” ordered Armus. Moments later, the deck vibrated slightly as the turbolasers lanced out, striking the MC80.

* * *

“What the hell?” demanded the lead spirit.

“It would appear,” said Oberst, quite calmly, “that the New Republic has changed its mind.”

“Isn’t that your ship out there?!”

“Not really,” replied Oberst. “Understand, my clan and I were helping the Republic find this ship only because they could expose us to the Yuuzhan Vong, the invaders that would destroy us all. Blackmail is, after all, only fun when you’re the one doing it.”

“You doom us again, Maxamillian! If this ship goes, so do we.”

“They are right,” said Talitha wearily. “They’re so connected to the events on this ship, they literally can’t exist without it. How . . . droll.”

“Can we fight them off?”

“With this wreck of a ship?” asked Oberst, resorting to his military command presence. “I see you haven’t had a decent commander in a long time. You’ve really slacked off.” The MC80 shook again as another salvo hit it. The spirits did not take too kindly to Oberst’s latest comment. Oberst continued unabated. “It would seem that somehow you spirits manage to make this vessel move and operate. I don’t care about the particulars, but I can tell you now that there is no way that this vessel can stand up to the cruiser that now targets us. It is one of the newest warships in existence, complete with a full fighter compliment.”

“If I may suggest,” said Stevenson, suddenly breaking into the conversation. “Let us all assume our posts, and hand command over to Maxamillian. After we have successfully beaten the enemy, or evaded them, then we can hold our trial of Maxamillian.”

“And the little wench, too!” Stevenson cast a wary glance at Talitha, but she seemed to take no notice, nor care what was said.

“Is this acceptable to you, as the officers of this vessel?” asked Stevenson, his question accentuated by yet another smattering of turbolaser fire from the Doomsday. Discussion erupted amongst the officers, but finally their leader calmed them down.

“Alright, we will accept Maxamillian’s temporary command, if only for our immediate survival,” he said. “However, you must agree to stand trial!” Oberst only nodded before he began to bark orders.

“Assume your posts. Navigation, set course for the Yridia system, where we will find allies,” he ordered. “Weapons, whatever we have, give it to me!” There was no chorus of “yes, sirs,” and there was a great deal of resentment at the decision that had been made. But, for now, it would work. Even in death, survival took priority, especially when one desired revenge.

“You realize, Consul, that this does nothing for our clanmates and the crystal spirits,” commented Oberst under his breath.

“I know,” said Anshar. “Talitha, I need your help. I need my body back, and my clan is still in danger.”

“Very well,” said the girl. “Let us go see if we can restore some bodies.” Her attitude had indeed changed.

* * *

“Curse this knee!” hissed Adamu. Had he known the knee was artificial, he would have chosen another body. But, Saryana had wanted to take care of Anshar in her own fashion, and so the empty shell of a body was a perfect target.

But, Adamu would find Saryana and finally end her pathetic life. He hated her and he had hated sharing the prison of the Crystal of Tears with her. She had outlived her usefulness and was now only an obstacle to him and his plans. Besides, she owed him a great deal for taking their daughter from him, and for sealing her soul into that lightsaber. With the Tarenti on the ship, and the little girl, there were plenty of scapegoats to blame. The other five spirits would still follow him.

Cypha felt an ease to be released from the uncontrollable chain over his mind. He was free again, but still felt as if he was wandering among clouds to find the borderline between the truth and dreams… But gradually, he started recognizing that all of his memory was merely a nightmare, in other words, a terrible truth… He remembered that the ugly Duros, Casorrs, took over his body and that he had been watching all what he did without being able to take any controls.

When he regrouped with Odin, Kyra, and other journeymen, they were almost engaging into a fight with a Twi’lek spirit. But somehow, the ghost entity retrieved himself as he saw Cypha, or Casorrs probably, arrived. Without any words, he gave Odin and Kyra a nod to indicate that he was ready to move on, and whole group with Cypha at the end started moving to the direction where the Quaester led. Cypha remembered the strong urge that he, Casorrs, would like to slaughter all of them from the back in a furious lightsaber smashes. He had a chance, but he halted it only because he, on the second thought, knew it would be much more fun to fight them face to face to kill them slowly… Cypha was screaming to give them a warning inside the cell of Casorrs’ spiritual jail, but there was no way for Cypha’s trapped spirit to get out of Casorrs’ grasp in order to reach out to his friends.

Then, he encountered Kazarelth fighting with Archean among other Tarenti. To see them, Cypha recalled that Casorrs felt tremendous amount of evil joy and strong envy in his mind. He could have not hold himself anymore, and finally engaged his fight with Odin. Then, as Casorrs had kept saying, Cypha came to see his own potential in the way of the Dark Side. He came to know how smooth, quick and dangerous a lightsaber could dance in the air and how strong and powerful the Force power coming through his body could be. As his memory recovered to that point, he felt a strong remorse all of sudden, noticing that he had fun using those higher level of powers that he could never imagined, and to be worse, noticing that he could not completely distinguish his own emotions from Casorrs’ in his memory.

It was a painful and disturbing experience... But not only those disgusting memories, he also started recalling another aspect. He was trying to stop Casorrs fighting with Odin, a respectable friend and leader since Cypha had joined this Brotherhood, and Kyra, a friend to learn and practice together almost everyday back in Yridia. To his surprise, he clearly remembered that actually he sensed that Casorrs was slowed down somehow. Cypha was surely gaining back the control, even though to a small extent, at that moment. Then, yes, he had let Kyra cut his back…


***


Suddenly the Tridens Guardian felt a pain in his back, and that triggered him to be back to the reality. He slowly opened his eyes, and had to see a cut female human arm smeared with blood lying down on the floor right in front of him.

"Kyra... Your arm...I'm so sorry."

To add insult to injury, he had to hear the disturbing thick Duros accent and raucous laugh from his Quaester’s mouth.

"Oh, how sentimental… Enough! I'll deal with you first, girlie…”

Cypha recklessly tried to cut in between Kyra and Odin, but only helplessly fell down to the ground hitting his back to the wall again in a severe pain, although he could still talk.

“Odin!” Cypha screamed as loud as possible. “Try to fight! With a strong will, you can break the control of the stupid Duros! Kyra, talk to him! Talk to Odin!”

“Master…” Kyra started in a low voice with trying to control her pain, but her voice gradually got strength as she continued. “I can feel you there. Look at me! I am your apprentice. And look at him!” Odin stared Kyra’s face for a moment, and her bleeding cut arm, then, as Kyra pointed out, Odin turned to another apprentice lying by the wall. The giant Heregan, Vampre was bleeding and weakened, but conscious and still possible to talk. “Master!”

“Back to work, Tarentum!” While Archean’s strong voice echoed in the room, Odin didn’t move nor spoke, but suddenly a troubled look showed up on his face, and back to a sneer, but serious at the next moment, then to a bitter smile.. His face expression changed in an unusual quick pace for a while… But finally, he shook his head and the eyes started glowing with a hint of insanity again, as Archean and Kyra were approaching to him.

“Xados, Vish, I’ll leave those fools to you guys. I don’t see much fun here.. hehehe..” As soon as Odin threw the words, he made a quick swirl of the lightsaber in front of him and sprang into the space between Archean and Kyra. Few flashes had sparked between the lightsabers, but Odin successfully went through the two Dark Jedi, and disappear into the dark corridors, immediately followed by Archean and Kyra.



(I named the Twi’lek spirit as Vish, thinking he is somewhere in the room from Kyra’s post.)

“Master!” Vampre called out as Odin, Archean, and Kyra ran out into the dark corridor.

Vampre made a feeble attempt to get up and looked at Donos."Come on!" He said running toward the dark corridor as fast as he could.

“Vampre where are you going?” asked Donos. “Were going to find our masters Donos, come on.” said Vampre. “If we stay here to long the something bad will happen, I can feel it.”

Vampre ran down the dark corridor, followed by Donos. There was the sound of lightsabers clashing as they entered a brightly lit room they recognized as the morgue.

Inside Odin and Archean were locked in a feirce lightsaber dual. “Master!” shouted Vampre and Donos in chorus.

Vampre ran over to Odin, but a fierce pain entered the back of his skull like Molten Carbonite.”Ahhhhhh!” screamed Vampre and he fell to the ground in pain and knew he would die soon if someone didn't help.

Odin looked down at his fallen apprentice. The blood gushing out of the wound in his head. If he didn’t get serious medical attention soon, he could die.

“NO!” shouted Odin as he attempted to force the spirit out of his body. "You weak fool! You think you can force me out? Pathetic!" Odin said with a sneer as He ran over to Donos and put his lightsaber up to his throat. "Let's see if the death of your apprentice will make you a better fighter!" He said to Archean.

"Do you hear that?"

Apollo tilted his head a bit then nodded back at Troutrooper. "Fighting. Saber on saber."

Troutrooper pointed to the corridor to their left. "That way a bit. We need to hurry, though. I've got a-"

"..bad feeling about this?" Apollo finished. TT rolled his eyes a bit as Apollo, Scion and himself began to run towards the sound of battle.

They soon slowed their pace as they moved around the corner then quickly came to a halt. Apollo purposely blinked twice, attempting to digest what his eyes are displaying as fact. QUA Odin was standing over his apprentice, saber seeming to ready to strike Donos down. Then there was Kazarelth laying on the floor as if in death.

"Odin." Apollo muttered to Troutrooper. The Elder and the Equite lifted their hands toward the QUA and sent a massive telekinetic push, knocking him off his feet before he could strike.

"Scion!" Apollo yelled as him and Troutrooper ignited their lightsabers and jumped into the fray. "See to the wounded! And for pete's sake watch our back!"

The foul and corrupt inhuman voice erupted from Odin in a deadly cackle. The Sith Warrior rose to his feet. Making the motion to dust off his tunic he smiled at the two older Dark Jedi.

"Oh what fun we will have! Or shall I say, I will have." Odin's lightsaber returned to brilliant life with the unmistakable snap-hiss and charged the remaining 15 feet towards the two.

"High."

"Low." added Apollo.

Troutrooper's lightsaber met Odin's in a brilliant flash as Apollo attempted to sweep his legs out from under him. The Sith easily leaped to his right side and swung his saber low, attempting to separate Apollo from his neck. The purple blade met Odin's easily as he rolled to his opposite side away from the crazed Quaestor.

"Dralin!" Apollo yelled, "What the frack is going on!?"

"Odin is...possessed! There are several spirits attempting to take over our bodies!" yelled the Jedi Hunter from his place near GRD Ronovi. Apollo's eyes widened a bit in reaction.

"Over my... scratch that." he added, making a mental note not to worry about witty banter in the middle of a deadly lightsaber battle in the future.

"So the spirits are in our real bodies?" Troutrooper yelled, making a quick slash with his left handed purple blade to Odin's left side while his right red blade made a jab toward his right leg. Odin filled to his right over the jab while deflecting Trout's slash. Apollo had a quick thought then glanced at Trout.

"Go high!" he yelled.

Together Apollo and Troutrooper made a heavy blow, with three sabers in total, down towards Odin's head. Using his left hand, Apollo grabbed his blaster an flicked the selector switch to stun and placed it in Odin's stomach and pulled the trigger. The Sith's eyes went wide in realization as the power of the blast threw him against the wall five feet away. Though the close range of the blast caused Odin some damage, it also did the trick. The Sith lay in front of them, unconscious.

Breathing heavily, Apollo turned to Trout who had the Mon Cal equivalent of a smirk on his face.

"What? You said their human. Even if they are souls of Dark Jedi, they are flesh and blood." Apollo turned to his wounded Clan-mates, assessing who's most critical before Scion piped up.

"Master, It's Rekio!" he shouted, pointing down the hallway the three had just came from.

"Rekio! Good to see you! We could use your help here." Apollo said. Apollo was just about to turn around when Troutrooper caught his eye. The Mon Cal was staring at Rekio intently, then ignited his lightsaber. Apollo looked back at Rekio who had already drawn his lightsaber and gave the two a very cold stare.

"Awww Frack." Dralin said, summing up everyone else's thoughts at the same time.

Ronovi watched the disarray in the morgue as they excitedly saw that her Quaestor and Aedile had arrived with Troutrooper to help. She had not been willing to stay on the floor and watch the chaos, and as such, she had requested that the rest of the group follow the others while combatting the ghosts as they moved. With Raiju helping her walk and Merlance carrying the frail Kazarelth, the group had moved through the corridors and re-situated in the morgue where the main action was taking place. It had been a risky endeavor to start walking and fighting the crystal spirits at the same time, but while the Xadon and Vish had eagerly followed the traveling Dark Jedi, oddly enough, they were not so aggressive in their fighting as they had been before, almost as if they had been losing energy. Now, Ronovi was back in her place near the wall, as she still lacked the energy to fight even though she had happily retrieved her fallen lightsaber while she and the others met with those who had run off.

Having several people around her aided her in being as hidden as possible from any subsequent strike from the ghosts, as they were all rapidly striking at those still standing and defending themselves. Ronovi rolled on her side to see that Kazarelth lay perpendicular to her, as Sato had rejoined the fray and everyone had been distracted by the new arrival: Rekio. Ronovi cursed as she saw that he, too, had been snatched by a spirit, as he pointed his lightsaber at Troutrooper. She would have to let the stronger deal with him now.

It seemed as if Xadon and Vish had disappeared into misty blurs as they zipped around the room, perhaps seeking for Dark Jedi who would weaken or let down his or her guard. But with the sudden attack Ronovi had made on Kazarelth, not only did the crystal spirits seem to bide their time on further possession, but the rest of the Clan was not willing to give them the opportunity. Despite limited power in necromancy, Force power and some physical strikes were being used to keep the spirits, even though they could not be simply destroyed.

Ronovi rolled on her side and stared at Kazarelth, who lay breathing stably but still unable to raise himself. His teal eyes slowly focused on the Epicanthix's face, and though he did not speak, he looked upon her as if out of shock. Ronovi coldly gazed back, however, as a sharp feeling of anger pierced her as she observed the one who had succumbed to the spirit and consequentially brought the Guardian to her current condition. It all seemed to simmer, however, when she thought she heard his voice as if through a Force connection...

Perhaps I was foolish. Too foolish to fully grasp the power that was not mine...

The shouts and screams pulled Ronovi away, breaking the connection as she raised her head. She watched as Odin fell unconscious and Rekio, having arrived, suddenly attacked the group. Despite any sort of small victories, conflict and tension only continued to mount. However, she suddenly felt herself lifted to her feet as Merlance and Raiju both moved from the battle momentarily to aid her and Kazarelth.

---

In the morgue, Kyra rushed quickly to Odin's side, watching him in case he stirred, while Donos raced over to Vampre to check his head wound. However, despite Odin being unconscious, Casorrs was not willing to disengage from his body as easily as he had done with Cypha's. The Sith Warrior was a much better host, and perhaps some "persuasion" would bring Odin back to consciousness. Odin moaned in his head as the Duros's voice rasped in his head.

Go on...get back up...we have unfinished business.

No. No, I can't let you. I won't let you.

You are not strong enough to combat me, Jedi! I have control, and soon, we will gain reorientation and strike back. You have no power over me.

Odin knew that he was right, but despite being controlled, he would not succumb to the Duros's demands so easily. It would take a while for the body to regain consciousness; for now, Casorrs would have to deal with him.

All right, Duros. You want to play? Let's play, he said mentally but as menacingly as he could. It was all he could hope for as he lay there and the action continued outside of his head.

---

Just like Odin, Rekio had grown weary of having Drelus take hold of him as he felt his body submit to an offensive stance. He watched as Drelus lashed out at Troutrooper, who deflected the blow with a swift movement, before trying to think about how he could fend the powerful spirit off. He pushed to analyze Drelus's powers and such within his own body now, seeing which Drelus could use and which were hindered due to the limits of the flesh.

There has to be something to weaken him, Rekio thought. Something in him that could work against him. But the question is, what?

It would take time, but Rekio would try. For now, Drelus found himself facing Apollo and Scion as well as Troutrooper, as the two former had allowed Odin's apprentices to tend to the Tridens Quaestor as they came in upon the former Proconsul. Drelus cursed as he channeled some of his power to fend them off, but it all seemed blockaded in his mind. It was if things he had known before when alive were not cooperating with him even in the flesh, and within his host's mind, he seemed to detect some activity from the victim.

"Such fools," Drelus heard himself say out loud as he parried a strike from Scion and ducked one from Apollo. He shuffled across the floor, grinding his teeth in irritation. "They don't know what they've really gotten themselves into. About time they tired out, anyway!"

However, unbeknownst to Drelus, even as a powerful Dark Jedi spirit his own powers seemed strained. As he watched his allies out of the corner of his eye, he tried to ignore what was happening within him and focus on the enemy. After all, he had had more than enough of this nonsense.

Soon after she was wounded Kyra had seen Odin fall as the spirit of Casorrs entered his body. Still coping with her injury, though she thought if it didn’t happen she may have been possessed herself, the spirit of Vish could be felt coming closer to her. As Cypha laid stirring around in pain, Kyra tried hard to get back enough strength to try and fight back if needed. The Jedi Hunter pleaded with her master to fight the Durros, she knew he was stronger then the Guardian but could his power be enough to prevent him from succumbing to the will of Casorrs. Cypha tried to reach out to get between the two as Odin hissed for revenge at Kyra, but with little to show for, he fell back in pain only able to speak. Her lightsaber was held in her intact left hand and ignited pointed at Odin ready to defend both her and Cypha, the best she could.

Archean entered and Kyra saw him but looked at her master, who at that moment took off down the corridor with only a clashing of Lightsabers. As the Jedi Hunter watched she got to her feet, the pain from the wound had diminished and she was able to stand. Cypha lay there but Kyra could not do much to help him. Archean ran after Odin and Vampre and Donos remained, with Vampre in bad shape from the wound to his head.

Kyra took off running after her Master down the Corridor followed in suit by Vampre and Donos but left Cypha, who was struggling to get back on his feet.

Upon entering the morgue Kyra saw her master and Archaen fighting each other. Lightsabers clashing with Odin seeming to have the upper hand and the Sith Battlemaster doing all he could to counter strike his attacks, Kyra only could watch. She ignigted her saber but thought twice about entering the battle, and then Vampre came running. Odin’s other apprentice fell down in pain as he tried to reach their master, Odin shouted, but could not fight back the Duros. Even after Apollo and Troutrooper arrived with Scion, their telekinetic push left Odin on the floor, but did not stop Odin . He kept fighting back though his apprentice could see in his stare that her master was fighting. Come on Odin fight it fight it, you are strong don’t be succumbed she thought.

***
Kyra had joined with Ronovi and the unconscious Kazarelth along with her fellow apprentice Vampre, the wounded watched as the Dark Jedi in front of them battled Odin.

“Noooo!!” shouted Kyra as Odin lay on the ground following the blaster attack from Apollo. She raced over to his side, hoping that it would drive out the spirit as had happened with Cypha. Then at the entrance to the Mourge she saw Rekio standing there possessed by Drelus.

Rekio clashed with troutrooper, Apollo and Scion. Drelus had Rekio fighting his fellow clansmen as if they were enemies, parries and strikes, Troutrooper arced his saber around meeting Rekio’s as both Apollo and Scion came in for an attack. Rekio was weary, fighting his spirit possessor and the Dark Jedi.

Odin stirred, as Kyra joined with Vampre watched over their fallen master. The Sith Warrior was waging his own inner battle. Leave me, you Durros, get out thought Odin, he was tired of playing this game the spirits are doing. For a brief moment Odin gained some control as he looked at his apprentices, “Run, Kyra, Vampre,” came the weak tone of the Sith Warrior’s voice. “ I am not leaving you master, “ said Kyra, “fight it.”

Kyra did not know if she could escape, it would be hard to fight, and with Rekio in the room.

“Girlie, your master is not here anymore, you will deal with me,” said Casorrs. Kyra stared hard at him as she got Vampre back to the others; Odin had regained consciousness but was still in a weakened state. Kyra stood in front of Vampre with her lightsaber drawn as she kept close to her master. “Apollo, Troutrooper it..its Odin he’s conscious,” shouted Kyra as the two looked over still fighting off Rekio.

The Jedi Hunter knew she was no use if Odin gets up and comes over, and Ronovi was with Kazarelth, with her own injuries to contend with. Troutrooper and Apollo where busy, so it would up to Merlance and Archean who had before fought with Odin.

Just then Guardian Cypha came stumbling into the morgue, still in a state of shock but slowly managing to regain his strength.

“What is happening,” said Cypha. Kyra quickly filled the Guardian in but was too intent on watching Odin, as the Tridens Quaestor still possessed by the spirit of Casorrs began to rise. Kyra turned to the other Dark Jedi waiting and whispered “What can be done to stop him, it took only a slash of a saber to the back to drive Casorrs out the last time, now even with a blaster he is still has a grip to Odin”. Merlance looked over “He seems to be weary, but Odin is powerful, the spirit knows this, he needs him, we could only try and weaken his body enough, and hope it works.”

This fight was too evenly matched with a blade. The combatants were both as agile as each other, making them too evasive. This fight could not be won by the sword. The Battlemaster dodged a wayward attack from Rekio, careering into Odin, knocking the Duros infested Warrior out the blast door and into the durasteel wall in the hallway. Quickly realizing what he had done, Archean pounced through the door and grabbed Odin's head, slamming it into the durasteel wall repeatedly, each bash growing with power.

“Get! Out! Of! Him!” Yelled the Blind Sith as he shoved Odin's head back and forth, the wall splatted by the Quaestor's blood. The Corellian boosted his strength using the Dark Side, throwing Odin to the other side of the hallway. Cassors had barely a second to compose himself before rolling out of the way from a lunging downward strike. Moving back a few feet, Cassors began fighting with the inner Odin once more, Archean could sense the conflict but wished to watch. As he did so, Donos and Vampre appeared by his side..

“Come, Odin, succumb to my will.” Jeered the Duros

“No...no...I can't...please, leave me be.” Begged the bloodied Warrior

“Ahahahaha.” Cackled Cassors. “Me? Leave you? You're mine for all eternity, boy. Deal with it.”
Barked the spirit.

The Duros leaped toward Archean, lightsaber low and then swung high. Archean arched his back to dodge the blow which would have cut him in two. Archean retaliated with a swift kick to the crotch, immobilizing Odin. The Quaestor's expression changed severely as he fell to his knees.

“Vampre, Donos, Adriel, restrain him!”

Vampre and Donos ran and held Odin's arms and legs, but there was no sign of Adriel.

Archean knelt down near the fallen Sith Warrior and focused on the force. The blind Sith rolled Odin over and pressed his palm on Odin's spine. Odin's body jerked as he gasped for air. His limbs seizing before being completely overcome by paralysis.

“Damnit! What is this?!” Spat the spirit.

Odin's body lay perfectly still on the floor of the hallway.

As Archean stood up, he glanced around and saw Adriel was missing.

“Donos, where is Adriel?” Questioned the Battlemaster angrily.

“I...I do not know, Master. I think...she is...down the hallway where we were before.” stuttered Donos.

“As you're both my Apprentices', you are partners. You are to look out for each other at all times.”

Archean turned his gaze to the doorway as he flipped his communicator from his pocket.

“Adriel, do you copy?”

“Yes, Archie-kins.”

Archean moved the communicator closer to his body and looked around sheepishly. “Not in front of the Dark Jediiiiiiiii” he whined. He cleared his throat and continued.

“I want you at my position immediately.” He demanded.

“On my way.” She replied as the link closed.

“Do not forget this lesson, Donos.” Archean stated.

“Yes Master, I am sorry, I shall be more mindful in the future.” Donos bowed. Archean nodded.

“Now, wait for Adriel to get here, then come find us.” Archean ordered.

“Yes, Master.”

The Sith motioned to Vampre. “Come, we must help the others.” Vampre quickly made his way through the door, behind Archean, lightsabers ignited.

(OOC: I used a Level 2 Clan Power: Paralyzing Touch.)

“Curse these mortals! Feeble creatures.” Condemned Cassors. “Must I find another shell?” The spirit removed himself from Odin's paralyzed body and disappeared in to the wall, Donos not aware of what just happened.

Adriel was making her way down the corridor to meet her Master. A chill came over here and she stopped suddenly. She looked around the hallway but saw nothing, however, she could sense a terrible presence close to her.

“You must be Adriel.” Whispered the spirit into her ear. The Togruta gasped and jumped back.
“No need to be scared, child. I won't harm you.” Smirked the ghost as it got closer to her.
“Get back. Get away from me!” Adriel walked backwards, igniting her saber. The spirit inching ever closer.
“The blind one will have his comeuppance.”

* * *

Donos heard footsteps slowly come his way, followed by the distinctive sound of a lightsaber brushing against the ground, sparking the area.

“Adriel, I'm sorry for leaving you before, it won't happen again, friend.” Donos' said. The female's mouth smirked as her gaze lifted.

“No...it won't.” Sneered the Protector as she used the Force to push Donos over. The male scrambling back to his feet.

“Wha...What's gotten into you, Adriel?” Donos looking confused at his friend.

“A poltergeist.” Her voice morphed into a low bellow.

Suddenly the spirit slashed downwards but Donos got out of the way in time. He ignited his saber and defended himself. Cassors moved closer and utilized a flurry of attacks to disorientate Donos. Cassors struck low which Balia blocked, Cassors lifted his right leg and kicked the saber out of Donos' grip. Cassors punched Donos square in the stomach with thunderous force, causing the Protector to go down on one knee. The spirit then picked up the male and threw him against the wall. He then did the same to the other wall, Balia's face showed extreme pain. She held up Donos against the wall. Saber ignited, she sunk it into the wall above Balia's face. The melting steel slowly making its way down inching ever closer towards him.

“Do you know what it feels like to be burned?” Asked the female. Balia tried to squirm out of the hold she had on him but it was no use, Cassors' power was too great. Cassors eyed Donos up and down before disengaging his saber and clocking it fiercely over Balia's head. The male slid down the wall, unconscious.

Archean's senses erupted as he felt a tremor through the Force.

“Donos” He thought to himself. “Vampre, hold. I'll be back.” He ran out the door and into the corridor where he saw Adriel standing over Donos with her lightsaber pointed directly at her neck.

“Adriel! What the hell is this?!” Shouted Archean
.
“This is payback, blind man.” Hissed Adriel in a gravely tone. Archean's mind pinpointing that it was the spirit from Odin inside his Apprentice.

“No!” Archean raged as he used the force to grab the saber out of Adriel's tired hand.

Cassors' power was fleeting as he had to possess a second body. He mustered all his power to make this attack count.

The Duros ran toward Archean. He picked up Donos' lightsaber in the process and ignited it before swinging at the Sith. Archean ignited both sabers in his hand and used both to block the attack. He did not want to hurt Adriel but he had to think of a way to subdue the spirit inside of her.

Cassors attacked vertically which Archean blocked with his left saber. The blind Sith's right saber came swinging round.

The spirit cackled as he dropped Adriel's weapon and left her body. Adriel came out of her state of unconsciousness to see her Master's saber hurtle towards her. Archean's attack pierced Adriel's abdomen slightly, the pain rushing out of her mouth with a terrible scream. Cassors' psychotic laughter echoed throughout the hallway.

Archean rushed to Adriel's aid as she fell. The Battlemaster's face explained it all. He had injured his Apprentice by accident. He utilized all the force he had left in him to heal her wounds.

A moment had passed and Adriel opened her eyes. Archean smiled as she looked up at him.

“Welcome back.” he said quietly.
“Archie...” She smiled.

With Donos lying there unconscious and Archean resting against Adriel they do not notice that there is a fog swarming around them at that very moment. Donos stirred trying to wake up but he felt groggy and out of place.

Remembering what happened to him with Adriel attacking him and knocking him out with her own lightsaber.

Donos stood up really fast and yelled “master get away from her she is possessed.”

“Donos not any more she isn’t, the Duros left her.” Archean stated in a tired voice.

Donos noticed then lightsaber cut in her abdomen. “Adriel it’s all my fault you got hurt I should not have been bull headed and left you.” Donos stated.

“It’s okay Donos I forgive you,” Adriel answered

“He he” all three heard coming from all ways around them. “Ah a weakened master and his oh so weak apprentices,” said a voice coming from a human male appearing in front of them.

“Who are you?” stated Donos. Using the force Donos got his lightsaber to come to him and he ignited it and stood in front of his master and fellow Apprentice noticing that both of them are too exhausted to fight.

"Now are you brave or foolish young one to try and stand against me. For I am one of the seven crystal of tears spirit's," stated the spirit.

As Drelus fiercely combatted three Dark Jedi at the same time, he became aware that obviously, even his power combined with Rekio's could not hold them off for long. Apollo was an aggressive yet strategic duelist, while Troutrooper exhibited superb dexterity and Scion quiet diplomacy as their lightsabers clashed with that of the former Proconsul's. Drelus turned his head slightly to see Clan members continually restrain his allies with what little Force power or necromancy power they had, yet he was stunned to see that Xadon and Vish weren't even attempting to possess those attacking them. Obvious targets, such as Raiju, Merlance, and Xayun, were not even being approached for possession. On top of that, he sensed that Casorrs had now disengaged from not one, not two, but three bodies, and the Duros didn't seem quick to take another as he re-entered the main fray. Wanting to concentrate on his fight, Drelus spoke to them angrily through the Force.

"What do you think you're doing? This is no time to be idle!"

"Many suitable hosts are injured or weak, Drelus," Vish snarled. "And those we attack are in large numbers."

"You imbeciles! Now you're intimidated by these fools?"

"Believe it or not, this battle has drained us of much of our energy and power," replied Xadon.

"We may be those of the crystal and powerful Dark Jedi, but even in death we seem to weaken," added Casorrs, who had just re-emerged from the wall yet moved slowly in his wake, eyeing the injured Kyra, Kazarelth, and Ronovi wearily.

Drelus's eyes widened as he blocked a blow from Troutrooper, as he now faced the three Gladians in a U shape formation. What Xadon said had to be impossible. While mortals may weaken physically, thereby presenting a slight hindrance to possession, spirits such as themselves were not likely to grow weary or tired. But he, too, seemed to feel a suddenly, almost mental strain upon him, as if something was attempting to distract him or pull him out of focus. Nevertheless, he spoke to his allies once more.

"You see those that are strong enough to undermine our powers of possession? Those are your candidates! Take those fighting me! Take that man who has hindered at least two of you more than once! It is not in our way to dawdle. It is not--" Drelus felt a new and familiar presence suddenly from the other room. He smiled in delight. "Besides, we have company. Erdric has finally decided to join us."

---

Though Donos attempted to defend his master and apprentice from the oncoming spirit, Erdric was quicker. He smirked at the idea of finally joining in the festivities, but who to pick? The bloodied man on the ground would not do, and the other two seemed frail. Erdric looked upon Archean, who, when looking upon the spirit, tightened his grip on Adriel's knee.

"You seem a little cozy there," Erdric hissed. "Why don't I get your energy up?"

"You'll do no such thing!" Adriel shouted as she attempted to stand, but her own frailty hindered her as she felt Archean jump to his feet. With some of his energy returning, he ignited his lightsaber and stood beside Donos, but he barely had enough time and not enough strength to defend himself.

Erdric's attack was swift, swifter than that of Casorrs and equal to that of Xadon, as he struck Archean and sent him careening onto the floor. Adriel screamed as Erdric laughed gloriously at his prize, fading into the usual mist as it wafted into Archean's mind. Donos came at his fallen master with his lightsaber raised, looking for an opportunity that never came, as Archean struggled for almost a minute before rising to his feet.

"So you've been able to ward off my allies with more vigor than we expected," Erdric spoke through Archean's lips. "Perhaps it's time to put your powers toward the proper target."

Archean turned slowly before pointing his weapon at the fallen Odin and his apprentices. Donos and Adriel looked at each other before looking upon their master in horror. What Erdric had said was true; Archean had been a vital asset to the group as he fought the ghosts. Now, they realized, they would have to face Archean himself.

---

Though it took painstaking effort, Adamu found himself close to the bridge at last, searching quietly for his new prey. He stopped suddenly at the sight of Oberst upon the catwalk, but it was not the Marshal alone that startled him. He saw that the many ghosts of the Renegade were actually attempting to control the ship, but to Oberst's bidding.

"Fools!" he snarled. "To betray us so easily when we've promised them so much! And now they work for whom they've had the utmost desire to destroy? There better be a good explanation for this!"

Adamu was about to move closer to the bridge when a soft, pitiful moan came from his side. Perfect timing; he turned to see Saryana slowly moving toward him, looking distorted and scarred from a hideous attack. Her face was twisted in utmost agony, though her eyes seemed to shimmer with useless hope as she stared at who she believed was her allie.

"Adamu...thank goodness you've at last arrived! I have been foiled more than once."

"Indeed?" Adamu replied calmly, limping toward Saryana and looking upon her.

"Yes. The cursed Dark Jedi have been able to endure for so much longer than I hoped, and now our newfound armies have been swayed to a pitiful compromise. And I...I have been rendered to such a horrid state by those I face. The Hunter...the girl...everything..."

Adamu shook his head as Saryana began to babble in her emotive state. Enough was enough; though he may have felt a slight remorse at first, it soon faded when he reminded himself of his obligation to his allies. The useless had to be dealt with.

"Saryana," Adamu hissed, "how weak of you. How horribly weak of you..."

Saryana's eyes widened in shock as Adamu ignited the still working lightsaber that he had gripped in his hand The last thing she could remember clearly was when Adamu, smirking, pointed the weapon directly at her as the powers within him began to build.

Brimstone finally heard sounds of lightsabers clashing as he made his way to the sounds. As he entered the hallway, he finally saw Drelus and Troutrooper along with two others unfamiliar to him engaged with each other.

Brimstone also noticed that a few others had been injured and went over to them to try to help. He noticed that the blind dark jedi Archean was getting ready to engage his apprentices. It was possible that he was possessed also. It was difficult to tell from friend and foe who was possessed and who wasn't.

"What is going on Adriel" asked Brimstone. "Who is who? why are we attacking our own?"

"Watch yourself Brimstone, cause the spirits have been jumping from body to body as soon as someone is injured." she replied.

Brimstone held his lightsaber in his right hand and pulled out his charric blaster in the other. He took a defensive stance to protect the fallen gladius members.

"Should I just shoot the ones there or what?"

"I don't know. They keep taking over those not injured or unconscious. You can try."

Brimstone set his charric on stun and fired towards Archean, who's back was turned as he squared off with his apprentices. The blue beam hit him squarely in the shoulder, causing Archean's arm to go numb and making him drop his saber to the ground. One of the characteristics of a charric's stun capabilities was instant paralisys of the injured area.

Archean turned and, even though blind, stared sharply at the jedi hunter and threw a force shove at him, hurling Brimstone towards the wall. Brimstone was ready this time, unlike when his master Anshar did it to him, and even though the slam would have knocked him out, he protected himself through the Force and remained conscious. Brimstone open fire again at Archean.

Archean had no saber to deflect the shot, but used the force to disipate the energy as it hit him. But before he could retaliate, his aprentices rushed him from behind and tackled him to the ground, hitting him hard upside his head with their hilts of their lightsabers, hoping to knock him out.

Erdric refused to release his host and lashed out in the Force, throwing both apprentices off of him. Blood was coming from the multiple gashes in Archean's head where they hit him. He got up and stared at all of them.

"Enough of this toying with you dark jedi, I will kill you all now" yelled Erdric as he telekintically called back the lightsaber to his useable hand and started attacking the others.

“You can’t hurt me in that form,” said Saryana, a hint of smugness remaining in her voice.

“In all our time together, the many battles, the long nights, and you still think so little of me,” said Adamu. Closing “his” eyes, Adamu shut off the lightsaber and released the body, returning to his spirit form, and letting the body fall to the ground. Now in his spirit form, Adamu lashed out, backhanding Saryana across the face. As she stumbled back, he grabbed her spiritual lightsaber. It too had a soul connection for him, and that was all he needed.

“I should have killed you for what you did to our daughter,” he said forcefully. “However, I bided my time and I find this to be much more fitting.” He ignited the lightsaber and with one strike, cut off Saryana’s incorporeal leg, causing her to collapse, even in the spirit form. Adamu laughed with sickening glee. “Your own daughter has struck you.”

“Damn you, Adamu!” spat Saryana. “Our enemies are slipping from our grasp, and you can think about is revenge! You know our child would have died; by doing what I did-”

“Silence! I no longer care for excuses, nor what happens to these worthless Tarenti. You see, I am going to try something new with you. If it works, I shall be forced to depart until I can gain enough strength. Then I shall return to destroy them.”

“But we’re strong enough now! Together, you and me, and the others!”

“Weaklings, all of them. I was considering taking them with me, but I have changed my mind. But, enough talk. Oh, and I’m afraid I won’t actually be able to kill you for most of this. After all, I don’t want you returning to Oblivion before I get a chance to try this.” He walked over to Saryana’s spirit, which was no trembling. Planting his foot firmly on her, he slashed at her again with the lightsaber, cleaving off her arm. The arm fell to the side, laying there, but still twitching. “Interesting, isn’t it, how we are still very much like the living in this form. I imagine Anshar feels much the same way, wouldn’t you?” Bending down, Adamu lifted up the severed arm and proceeded to take a bite from it. He grinned maliciously at Saryana.

“What? No, you wouldn’t!” Saryana’s scream, though abruptly cut off, echoed through the ship and through the Force.

* * *

Anshar and Talitha had heard the scream, and they had immediately focused their attention in that direction. It hadn’t taken long, as they weren’t that far away. As they passed through one more wall, the came upon a rather gruesome scene. All that remained of Saryana was her burnt face, barely recognizable through the pain and destruction visited upon it. Adamu stood above her, finishing off his feast. He glanced up at Anshar and Saryana.

“You can have the body back,” he said casually, hardly caring that Anshar had ignited the one lightsaber. Raising his foot, and as physically was possible in this form, slammed it down on Saryana’s face, crushing it and dissipating it. “You know, it is interesting how two spirits can harm each other as if we were still alive. but, she definitely won't be coming back. Whatever was left of her won't survive Oblivion.”

“You consumed another spirit?” asked Talitha. She made a face. “Disgusting.”

“Oh, it isn’t all that bad,” said Adamu. “Well, enjoy your ghost ship. I’m shall depart and let you live, for now.” True to his word, and without waiting for a reply, Adamu lifted into the air and then abruptly disappeared.

“That was… odd,” said Anshar, shutting down the lightsaber.

“At least he left your body,” said Talitha. “I suppose you’re ready to get back in it.”

“I don’t suppose you could heal the knee, too,” said Anshar. Talitha shook her head.

“I don’t do the corporeal,” she said. Holding both of her hands out, one towards Anshar and one towards his body. A strange orange-yellow glow enveloped his spirit form. Suddenly, it blinked out. Moments later, Anshar, now back in his body, opened his eyes and slowly sat up.

“That was… interesting,” he said. “Something doesn’t feel right, and I mean beyond the knee.”

“You need to adjust back,” said Talitha, stifling a yawn. Anshar noticed that her eyes no longer had the white specks in them. “I’ll check you more thoroughly later.”

“Why not now?”

“Because I’m exhausted,” she replied, this time unable to stop the yawn. “You’ll be fine.” With that, Talitha lay down on the floor next to the wall, and closed her eyes.

“You’re not going to sleep here?” asked Anshar.

“Yes, I am. Oh, and be a dear and watch out for anyone.” With that, Talitha stopped talking and appeared to fall asleep very quickly. A strange green glow emanated around her body.

“What the hell?” asked Anshar to no one in particular. Still adjusting to his body, Anshar wasn’t exactly ready to go anywhere as it was. However, the hum of the deck plates as the ship entered hyperspace was, perhaps, a welcome sign.

* * *

Bloodfyre and the strange hunter, whoever he was, had not been alone, at first. But now, the sensation of being followed and watch dissipated. The hunter stopped. “The prey moves. Your nearby ally needs you. Another time, Sith.” With those words, the hunter seemed to disappear and Bloodfyre suddenly snapped out of his dream like state. Sith? Did that strange being know his name, or just that Bloodfyre was a member of the Sith Order. It didn’t matter. Looking around, Bloodfyre found a very injured Dranik nearby.

Troutrooper, Apollo, and Scion were in deep combat with Rekio. Blunt blows were being thrown everywhere. The three soon began to overpower Rekio but using the force He was able to throw them off. “You think you can win?” He said “You weak insolent fools!” He began to hit harder and harder until Troutrooper knocked him off his feet. They began to bash him as much as they could but he just got up again and began to laugh.

Troutrooper Jumped up and Hit Rekio hard in the head while He was busy fighting the other two. Even after this blow to the head He continued to grow in power. Troutrooper could feel the anger flowing off of him as he built in power.

******

Vampre and Kyra were sitting next to the injured Odin. “You all right master?” asked Vampre “I’m fine, don’t worry about me.” The wound in the back of Vampre’s head was getting worse. Then Vampre fell down, and as the blackness consumed him and as He heard the screaming of the children again he heard Odin’s voice. “Vampre?!? Can you hear me? Wake up!”

Odin suddenly remembered in how much bad shape Vampre really was. “He needs medical attention now!” He screamed. Kyra checked Vampre’s pulse. It was getting slower, and slower, and slower…..

******
Archean made a swift blow towards Donos’ head “come here “apprentice” lets see what you got!” He charged at Donos who just barely got out of the way. He was getting tired. Archean pushed them all against the wall using the force and walked toward Donos “prepare to die” He said

With Drelus becoming angrier, he felt his own movements become more improvised and aggressive as he shook off the blow to the head from Troutrooper's hilt. With Rekio's saber blazing in his hand, he knocked Scion back before planting a force push into Apollo and sending him toward the wall. With Troutrooper left, Drelus swooped in as their lightsabers clashed and broke apart repetitively as they circled the space.

With his allies continuously being pushed back, it was all becoming very irritating to him. What should have been an easy fight was turning into a dirty brawl. With Erdric still fighting outside the morgue and with Adamu's presence now unfelt as well as Saryana's, Drelus only felt the muscles in Rekio's body tense up as he continued to duel Troutrooper. But even now, he seemed to delve into disorientation, as his grip upon reality seemed to slacken with Rekio's tiring body.

In the next moment, Drelus suddenly lost all concentration as Troutrooper grappled with him slightly before throwing him against th ewall. Drelus lay there, stunned, as his vision blurred, and suddenly he found himself elsewhere, falling as if into a nightmare...

---

For a minute, Ronovi felt like her strength was at last returning at full speed. Despite the constant dull pain in her eye socket, she braced herself against the wall and pulled herself up. Kazarelth stirred slightly at her movement before gathering enough energy to get onto his knees and reach into his robes as he spoke, his voice feeble and almost inaudible.

"Here...I forgot I had these..."

Ronovi watched in bewilderment as the Omwati produced two sealed metal flasks from his robes, both of them seeming to glow with an unnatural energy and life. She recognized, to her astonishment, that they were Grails of Life.* As she stepped slowly toward him, Kazarelth extended one of the bottles feebly.

"One small drink, I believe, will be enough to fix you, though of course...it won't reverse your main injury," Kazarelth rasped. "I muist take this bottle for myself. But use the rest of your bottle for those in more desperate need..."

With that, he opened his bottle and let the solution flow between his lips. A sudden yell of, "He needs medical attention now!" distracted Ronovi just when she was about to sample her own Grail of Life. She turned slowly to see that it was Odin who had shouted it out, and that Kyra was bent over Vampre's now slackening body. Ronovi looked on in horror as the blood from his headwound was spreading out in a vast pool quickly and steadily. With the immense bloodloss, Vampre would last only a little longer, maybe only having minutes to spare. And Ronovi was unaware of his own slow descent into the horrible memories as he slipped further toward Oblivion.

Without another moment to lose, Ronovi opened the metal flask and took two small swallows. As once, she felt as if a flame of life were building up within her, bringing her back to an energized form. Although it did not match the exact strength she had arrived, it was enough to get her moving and perhaps fighting. But, without a word, Ronovi hurried her way toward the clustered group where Vampre lay. She pried his mouth open and tipped the bottle toward the back of the Heregan's throat, watching as the almost vaporous liquid drifted slowly from the lip of the bottle.

---

Perhaps you are not so strong after all...

Drelus could not decipher where he was as the images became distorted and almost taunting. His eyes widened as Rekio's voice echoed in his mind.

Do you know what I've been doing this whole time, with you in my body? Studying you. Observing you. There's much more weakness in your memories than I could ever imagine.

"My...my memories? No. No, you wouldn't!" Drelus screamed, but it all seemed to echo only in his mind.

As a spirit, he had been able to hinder such memories. Memories of his torment, his sorrows, and his evident downfall. He had even been able to hinder the ridicule and cruelty of his fellow allies while they were all trapped in the crystal. But in the next instant, he felt a sudden dull ache, as if the realm of his locked memories was being split open for all to see...

"No! Stop it!" Drelus shrieked. He could see it now...

The sneering faces of your "allies..." how did you live with them there? Rekio asked.

Drelus muffled a cry as he saw the distorted faces of the other spirits, then the blur of lightsabers as Trevarus loomed over them...the feeling of having his life ripped from him by force...the trauma as he spiraled into an endless abyss of imprisonment...

"Stop it! Stop! Leave me!"

No... Rekio's voice, distorted in his ears, growled. Leave me.

But Drelus continued to scream as the memories were unleashed further. He found himself clawing at the air as his visions came back in full swing, and in the next moment, he was bursting from Rekio's body, screaming and spinning through the air as if he had no control over his actions.

The entire group, even the spirits, stopped to watch as the screeching Drelus spiraled across the walls. His eyes were bulging in terror as the memories still came upon him like a whirlwind of past agonies, as he repetitively screamed, "Leave me!" before he suddenly went through the nearest wall and was gone.

It appeared that Drelus had completely lost his mind, but where he had gone was something to ask. Yet as Troutrooper hurried to assist the stirring former Proconsul, Ronovi and the others watched as the spirits all navigated the room as if searching for him. It was then, with the departure of Drelus, that the true confusion of it all began.

*A Grail of Life is a necromantic power held by a Level 4 Watcher. It is very specifically prepared in a particular flask, so it's obviously unlikely that anyone else without necromancy or with low necromancy powers will be able to make one or possess one.

The vessel, or at least this one small part of it, was rather quiet. Anshar continued to look around, but everyone and everything seemed to be ignoring him now. Though he knew that there was conflict, Anshar now had a golden opportunity to just think about how the clan could get out of this. Though they were currently en route to Yridian space, Anshar did not know how long the clan would last. Something had to be done, but the best Anshar had was only a theory. Still, it had to be tried.

Stretching out with the Force, Anshar took stock of where his clan was. His new journey through the ship quickly found his first allies. Like Anshar, they were temporarily isolated, ignored by the spirits. From there, Anshar could branch out, and add more to test his theory. Anshar stretched out with the Force, wishing that Talitha had been able to help.

* * *

Sith quickly regained his sense of direction, noting that he had almost returned to the starting point that his strange journey had taken him. Dranik was coming to, though he wasn’t in any condition to do much.

“Don’t move too much,” said Sith, kneeling down to the Proconsul. It would take awhile to heal all the injuries, even with the Force.

“I don’t think I could if I wanted to,” muttered Dranik. “Glad to see you’re back to your normal self.” With Sith’s help, Dranik slowly sat up.

“Looks like you’ve lost a fair bit of blood. If you were human, you’d probably be dead,” said Sith. Suddenly, he stopped talking, and turned his attention elsewhere. Dranik picked up on it, too.

“That’s one less problem,” muttered Dranik as he listened to Anshar’s theory sent through their telepathic link.

“For this to work better, we need to get closer to the others,” said Sith, helping Dranik up.

* * *

With Sith and Dranik now aware, Anshar turned his attention towards the cluster still fighting the spirits. Rekio was weakened, but still strong enough to respond to the call. Troutrooper picked up on it next, his own necromantic powers being above many in the clan.

“Do you think it’ll work?” he asked Rekio.

“Only if we can draw on the rest of the clan after the first time,” replied Rekio. “Even then, I don’t know how long we can maintain it. Probably not long enough. Then again, now is the time, with the spirits in a bit of disarray at the moment.” Since Drelus’ departure, Troutrooper did not reply. Doubtful or not, Rekio was already joining in the test of Anshar’s theory, and Troutrooper joined in. Thus, between the five Tarentae, a link in the Force was created and it pushed out against the spirits. The sheer will and determination of Clan Tarentum would now go into driving the spirits back, away from the bodies of the clan members.

Already in a state of shock, the remaining crystal of tears spirits were now literally pushed away. Sent reeling, they sought to regain some modicum of composure. A new strategy was needed, unless a window presented itself. With Tarentum on its guard, those windows would be few and far between.

* * *

The link had been forged would not hold up for long, unless others joined. Pulling more on his power, Anshar called to every member of the clan. “Join us” was all he said. The message was plenty clear.

As Ronovi rose to her feet as Vampre began to feel the effects of the Grail of Life, she watched in surprise as Rekio and Troutrooper both appeared to be concentrating. In the next moment, the three ghosts in the room were reeling back, pushed against the wall by what the Guardian first guessed to be some outside force. However, it was when she saw Kazarelth stand and close his eyes that she felt the pulse of the Force link approaching her.

"Join us," she heard Anshar whisper from the link.

Quickly overcoming the shock of hearing her Consul's voice again, Ronovi stepped forward as the spirits in a disarray scrambled to maintain concentration. Another ripple in the Force sent them flying back again, only this time, Kazarelth, Sato, and Dralin had connected with Rekio and Troutrooper, focusing upon the Force. She then watched as fellow Clan members rose, well, injured, or healing, and all joined in the theory that beset them all.

Ronovi wanted nothing else but to follow the others' lead, and she suddenly found herself as if intertwined with her allies. She sensed people even outside the morgue, such as Sith and Dranik, as the link expanded like a spider's web across the ship. While she could feel the subsequent tension of the link as if at any moment it could snap. But the Guardian couldn't have felt more united, more powerful, than at this moment, and she closed her remaining eye in order to focus this new power further. At last, the Clan was uniting as one Force to finally, at the very least, ward off the enemy.

---

Upon the catwalk, Oberst heard Anshar's whisper as the invitation to the link approached the Marshal. Looking upon the Renegade spirits as they manned the controls, Oberst at first almost accepted Anshar's invitation. However, a new plan was formulating in his mind, as he knew that the crystal spirits would be looking for a new strategy with the link pushing them back. He thought fast.

Delving into his expansive necromantic knowledge, Oberst thought over the strategy that was unfolding in his mind. The spirits would obviously have to show some gullibility for it, but perhaps desperation would be better to manipulate. He reminded himself that corpses were about the ship even in this undead wake, and the image of what he would do with them caused Oberst to sneer cunningly and almost maliciously.

In the next moment, Oberst had dropped out of the link in the Force. Though it left him vulnerable, the Marshal was more than willing to take the risk. Using his Force senses, Oberst opened a channel of communication toward the crystal spirits. To quote an overused line, he was going to make them an offer that they absolutely could not refuse.

---

"This is useless!" Xadon snarled as the link grew larger with each Clan member. "What are they intending to do with this?"

"It's no good to just linger here and keep on with the same routine," Vish replied. "We need to regroup, restrategize."

"Are you kidding?" growled Casorrs. "That's almost as bad as admitting defeat."

But the ghosts knew that they were running out of options. While the Force link could not harm them, it was capable of pushing them back and disorienting with undeniable strength and focus. As Xadon moved across the room, he heard a voice as if from the other side of the ship.

If you want a chance, you follow my lead.

"What? Who are you?"

Merely someone who can make a compromise. You obviously can't get any bodies this way. I have some to offer you, if you're willing.

As Xadon recognized the voice as the Marshal, the Falleen was stunned to hear a powerful Tarentae actually attempt a bargain. "You think it's going to be that easy to pull us away?"

I am giving you a chance here. The condition of my Clan is important, so I will gladly offer you other flesh for their safety and your own power.

"What makes you think we can trust you?"

Simple. You have no other choice, do you?

The Marshal was right; there was nothing else they could do as the link strengthened. Looking upon his allies, Xadon moved swiftly toward the door.

"Erdric, disengage! We've got a conference to be at!"

In the next moment, Erdric had broken free from Archean's body as the four remaining ghosts disappeared from view. Despite the intitial shock of seeing the ghosts, at long last, leave, the group did not break the link but merely held onto it as if for dear life.

Vampre was staring into a living hell. He could see the spirits of Oblivion calling out to him as he slowly entered Oblivion. The blackness Had consumed him and he knew death was sure to follow. “I will be there soon brother” He thought to himself. The screaming grew louder and He knew the voices were mocking him. “How weak.” they said “letting a blow to the head defeat you. Pathetic!” Vampre’s anger began to build as he heard them laughing. “Shut Up!” He yelled. He felt a smooth vapor go down his throat and The screaming began to stop. The pain began to go away. Oblivion seemed to be going farther away. It was a miracle. Vampre was alive.

“The screaming” Vampre said as He slowly got up. “It stopped.” Vampre then heard Anshar’s voice in his head. “Join us.” It said. Vampre looked up. He could see Ronovi, Odin, and Kyra in deep concentration. “Vampre” Ronovi said “Help us hold off the spirits.” “But I don’t know any necromancy.” he said “that’s alright just channel you energy into the link” she replied.

Vampre did as he was told. He could feel everyone in the ship. Odin, Kyra, Anshar, Oberst, Troutrooper, Archean, Donos, all of them. He felt alive again. Vampre knew that the shield wouldn’t last forever, but it would have to do for now before a greater plan was thought of.

Little Did anyone know that Oberst was already on it.

Brimstone felt the call from his master and dropped to one knee. He opened himself to the link that was created and focused himself to the link.

The jedi hunter only wished he had time learn the arts of necromancy to help better.

Oberst regarded the bridge activity loosely. In less than thirty minutes they would jump out of lightspeed into the Yridia System. He needed to prepare. “Mr. Stevenson, the bridge is yours. My identification protocol is keyed in. Transmit upon entry to the system.”

“Of course, Admiral,” Stevenson’s ghostly image nodded, before watching the crew pits below the command catwalk.

Oberst made his way from the bridge to the infirmary, five decks below. Adjacent to the infirmary was a berth unit that could be adjusted for cold storage as a morgue. He spared no glance to his Clansmen, scattered about the corridors, infirmary and morgue. They were in deep concentration, maintaining the link that kept the Crystal spirits at bay. Before making his way into the surgical ward, he paused before one figure, sitting cross-legged, face calm. I need your help, Oberst carefully intoned, Break gently from the link. The others can take up the slack.

The figure followed him into the surgical ward. Oberst donned disposable gloves and one of the leather surgeon’s aprons before entering. The artificial lighting gave the laid out bodies an even more sickly pallor. Grabbing a tray of surgical tools, Oberst got to work. The first body he pulled was desiccated, but in otherwise good condition. He felt eyes on him, watching his work. He ignored them. If they made any noise, he gave it no ear. The Y-shaped incision along the human male torso was textbook perfect. The dry crack of bone broke the imposed shell of silence the large human erected. “Most people think that inserting souls, summoning ghosts and spreading plague is instantaneous. It isn’t. There is much preparation that needs to be undertaken or everything can fall apart.” Oberst looked up, and grabbed the Lt. Colonel’s hand, “Put your hand here.”

“What am I feeling for?” Ronovi inquired.

“The abdominal aorta,” Oberst replied, “the bodies are dead, but we need to make sure they don’t have actual physio functions. If they do, they’ll tear up the body, or even burn up the organs.”

“Does it matter?”

Oberst looked up as he paused above the body with a pair of surgical scissors, “Yes.” Oberst made several incisions, before looking around for another suitable corpse. “I believe your training in our Clan’s art has been lacking, allow me to begin your instruction…”


* * * * *

They are ready.

How can we trust you.

You can’t.


* * * * *

Oberst regarded the figures on the slabs. One finally stirred. He could sense Ronovi’s apprehension, but the young Obelisk remained outwardly calm. It was the dessicated human corpse he first worked on that sat up and stared through dead, decayed eyes.

“Foolish Sith,” the raspy voice began, “You have given us the weapons for our revenge.” Lightning flashed from the corpse’s hand. Oberst lightsaber ignited and intercepted the purple-white arc of electricity. Oberst held off the onslaught, as dark side energy just poured out of the animated corpse. The corpse screamed in frustration as its hands caught on fire, “What is this?!”

“I hope you didn’t take me for an idiot,” Oberst started, stalking towards the tables. “That trick generates so much heat, I figured a dry body would be best to keep you in check,” the blade raised as Oberst smiled smugly. A scream was the last thing to pass as the blade came down, and the mummified head rolled away.

The other bodies slowly began to move, as Oberst reached up his sleeve for the iron spikes he preferred to use for executions. Two of the spikes were buried in the foreheads of the reanimated bodies before they could rise. The fourth body got into a sitting position, before a third spike was driven up the mandible.

It is done, Consul, Oberst directed his comment to the link, to let everyone know that the four spirits had been disposed of.

Which ones?, Oberst could feel the Shaevalian’s mark in the Force.

Xadon, Vish, Casorrs and Edric

Are you sure?

Oberst scowled to himself, No, I didn’t see them meet their final deaths and depart completely for Oblivion. I made it all up, because I’m bored. He could hear barking laughter, most likely Rekio. “We can restore your sight, you know,” Oberst stated, cleaning off the surgical trays, “The procedure will be painful, but it can either be cybernetic, or we could try something Sirrus and Welshman have been working on.” Oberst saw a figure leaving the morgue on wobbling legs and sneered to himself.

* * * * *

Rekio limped slowly down the corridor, trying to regain complete control of his body. The emergency lights were still on, letting shadows play on the walls. The ghost ship was eerie in its darkness and calm. Warships like this were supposed to be alight with activity, even during down time. This was downright spooky.

He made his way down a side corridor, attempting to find his way back to the shuttle bay. Doors slid open and closed, as he navigated the labyrinth. Spirits or not, Rekio had always preferred the well laid out plans of the Imperial naval vessels over the Mon Calamari ships.

Ronovi had been more than willing to help the Marshal in his deadly task, and she now looked upon the destroyed corpses before realizing that the main danger had passed. Then she heard Oberst's comm crackle as Anshar's voice emerged from it.

"Oberst, I've just spoken with Stevenson. We've reached the Yridia system."

"Good," Oberst said hoarsely. "That means we can finally get to the important part. Oh, and send Stevenson down to the morgue, will you? I have a body prepared for him."

Ronovi watched as Oberst stepped over to those who were still in the link, and he, too, closed his eyes and his voice echoed in the minds of those around him.

Keepers, Masters, we call to you now. I strongly urge your assistance for us upon this vessel so that we may cleanse it of these spirits once and for all. Allow them to pass into the next plane and leave this world and its balance intact. We will offer great gifts in return if you will aid us.

As Ronovi heard his voice, she found herself being drawn into the link again as she willingly allowed herself to unite with the others. All at once, a heavy silence had befallen the vessel, as the names of the Keepers were unleashed and their voices heard.

Tel'Ratha. Shade. Talitha. Heed your disciples' call. The time is now. The time is fleeting.

The shield that the Tarenti were forming seemed to grow in power as Ronovi felt as if her entire body were gravitating. As the light within the chamber grew brighter, the Epicanthix felt disoriented but nonetheless maintained her firm grip on the link. As more voices rose within her head, she found her vision growing white before her own mind seemed to be completely intertwined with those of her allies...

And then, silence.

---

We Keepers, masters of Life and Death, of Light and Shadow. We have heard your request, and we shall aid you.

Being proximal to the bridge, Anshar watched as Stevenson departed for the morgue and Talitha seemed to awake again. As he strengthened his focus on the link, Anshar sat in awe as the shadows cast by the Keepers fell upon the ghosts who worked nonchalantly in the crew pits. The silhouettes of Tel'Ratha and Shade had appeared as the barrier that the Tarenti had erected and Talitha looked upon the Consul.

"Tarenti, it appears that we will do this bidding for you. Our strength should be enough to cleanse this ship. But be prepared for the consequences, and good luck."

Anshar did not speak as Talitha seemed to disappear into thin air and he stumbled to his feet, his damaged knee wobbling beneath him. All at once, the power of the Keepers swelled within the link, and the ghosts all turned as if they had noticed the disturbance around them.

"What is this?!" they demanded. "What is happening?!"

"It's time for you to go," Anshar calmly replied.

"You can't be serious! The Marshal! The trial! You have deceived us once again!"

The harsh cries and wails of the ghosts echoed in the corridors for a little while as each one was silenced as the link overtook him. Little by little, Anshar could feel a hollowness in the ship as its disembodied crew vanished into the alternate plane, wiped away by the Keepers' call. He closed his eyes as the link grew stronger still, until at last, no more voices cried out. There was nothing but silence.

He slowly lifted himself out of the link when he knew that all was finished, and out of the corner of his eye he watched Oberst stroll toward the bridge, sneering as he looked around it to see no one in sight. Beside him was a young man, whose eyes, though slightly hollow at first, were growing with new life. Anshar looked at Stevenson in his new form before smirking.

"That was rather quick," he said.

"Don't underestimate my speed when I want to be fast," Oberst said. "The damage has already been done. I figured he was suitable enough to stay alive."

"I suppose I should take that as a compliment," Stevenson said, but the conversation was cut off abruptly by a sudden shudder in the ship. Anshar could not help but notice that the corridor seemed duller in light, grayer, and in the next moment, everything appeared to age.

"What's going on?" he demanded.

Oberst solemnly stepped forward. "Without the ghosts, the Renegade no longer has life within it, and therefore it is reverting to what its condition should be. It is, shall we say...decripit enough to cause us trouble if we stay here any longer."

"How much time do we have?" Anshar demanded.

"At the most? An hour, before it completely falls apart. Maybe less," Oberst said.

"Then we have not a moment to lose! Get everyone to the landing bay and get them in the shuttles!" Anshar ordered. "I'll go search for Dranik and Bloodfyre. Hurry!"

In the next moment, Anshar was hobbling his way through the corridors. Oberst calmly moved his way toward the front entrance with Stevenson, but not before notifying everyone in the link.

---

Ronovi suddenly found herself breaking free of the link as the group of Tarenti suddenly moved quickly out of the morgue. Those who were injured were immediately assisted as they began to move through the corridors. In an effort to catch up, Ronovi followed beside Archean.

"What's going on? Where are we going?" she asked. As soon as she asked, however, she noticed that the walls seemed to age as if ready to break apart. "Whoa! What's this?"

"The Renegade's returning to its rightful state; it will not be able to hold us soon. We must hurry to the bay, Oberst's order," Archean replied, though wearily as he still was working to control his body after Erdric had left it.

The trip through the corridors seemed longer than Ronovi remembered as she felt the floor grow weaker beneath her. She watched as her fellow Tarenti moved through each bend as they made their way toward the main entrance, and she grew nervous with each step. She watched in shock as she saw Anshar for the first time in hours, limping beside Bloodfyre and an injured Dranik. Oberst and another man that Ronovi could not recognize were already ahead, walking in the direction of the landing bay.

"Tarentum, let's move!" Anshar hollered as the group worked its way toward the front entrance.

As if time had suddenly sped up, Ronovi found herself in the landing bay, the vast space around her, before the walls of the shuttle came to meet her. Time did not seem to withhold its laws any longer; it was all a blur, an endless blur as the group settled, moving quickly, however, into the Incarnate One and the Incarnate Two as well as other transports that the commanders of the Doomsday had hurriedly sent. The first thing she remembered clearly afterward was the crackle of the comm as the pilot spoke.

"Standby. All clear for departure."

Ronovi closed her remaining eye as weariness set in, as all the experiences on the Renegade came on her tenfold. She could sense everyone in the Clan, most of them still alive while others, especially lower-ranked members, had not endured. Though she could not decipher whether or not their obstacle had been truly vanquished, she could sense the Renegade rapidly aging still as the transport left the weakening landing bay. Until they knew further, she knew they were returning to proper base. She knew, for now, they were a little bit safer.

Epilogue

One Week Later

Anshar stood at the window of his office, overlooking the vast oceans that surrounded Castle Tarentum. A storm was coming in, causing the waves to reach their cold fingers towards the top of the castle higher and higher. It had been awhile since Anshar had been able to storm watch. He still found it relaxing, especially with every light off and just a plain wooden fire burning.

“Didn’t the doctor tell you to stand as little as possible?” asked Dranik, entering the inner office, physically unannounced, though Anshar had sensed him earlier. Dranik came up beside Anshar, looking out at the approaching storm. Anshar turned his head to look at his friend and Proconsul.

“There’s a reason I have a cane,” Anshar stated. Dranik just shrugged. Anshar only hoped that he could regain mobility in the knee. It had been bad enough after his injuries suffered during the Yuuzhan Vong invasion, but he had regained his movement. And now, it was back to square one. Even a Master had physical limits. For now, the cane would do. And perhaps forever. The Force would be a greater ally in the fights to come.

“How’s the arm?”

“Doing better,” said Dranik. It was still wrapped, the arm having been broken in two places, not to mention the broken bones in the hand. Dranik, being stubborn, refused the bacta treatment, instead only having the bone reset and then wrapped.

“How are the repairs going?” asked Anshar.

“Slowly,” said Dranik. “MC80s are a pain in the ass to repair to begin with, but it was in such a decrepit shape after it was cleansed, it would really be cheaper to buy a new ship. Still, your insistence on stockpiling war supplies is paying off. We don’t have to hunt down a lot of the things we need.”

“And people thought I was crazy when I told them to take that shipment of electrical wiring headed for Ord Cestus,” muttered Anshar.

“Speaking of wiring, Stevenson thinks we’ll be able to incorporate the StarVision into the ship rather easily, if we can get the thing working,” said Dranik. “How is the spirit doing with the body?”

“Doing alright, I suppose,” said Anshar. “It still feels like its coming loose, though. It’s kind of hard to explain.”

“And it cannot be fixed,” said a quiet voice from the shadows. Emerging from the shadows in the corner of the room, Talitha appeared. “Some of your connections are frayed beyond repair.”

“So what can be done?” asked Anshar, his gaze never leaving the approaching storm.

“I can strengthen those connections that remain, but I cannot fix those that are broken. But, even that will wear off. Think of it as a lifelong sickness that requires continual treatment, though it will lose its effect over time,” replied Talitha. Since returning with the clan, she had essentially dropped the cryptic talk she had once used.

“And what about you?” asked Anshar, ignoring, for the time being, his newly discovered lease on life. “Do you remember anything about your transformation?” Talitha shook her head.

“No, and nor do I know Shade or Tel’Ratha, though they claim they know me,” said Talitha. “I will remember. I remember so many other things. And I still seek my king. However, they are still out there.”

“They?” asked Dranik.

“Those that hunt me,” said Talitha. “I know they are still searching, but I do not know who they are.”

“The past always tries to catch us,” said Anshar. “We just have to stay ahead of it or defeat it.” And this was the truth. Adamu’s spirit still roamed, and he had threatened to return. The Yuuzhan Vong remained a threat, and Anshar knew that the call to battle would come from the Iron Throne in the near future. And these were just two examples: so much more lurked deep in the shadows, and so much of it came out of the past. At the same time, the clan had to focus on its future. The Brotherhood itself was coming to a head, even greater that the challenge the Yuuzhan Vong presented. Anshar wondered how many could see that far ahead.