Devils in the Details: The Teeth of the Hydra

[Hera]

Hydra: Greek Mythology - A serpent-like beast with multiple heads, whose toxic breath is so virulent it lingers in its tracks long after passing. If one head is severed, two others take its place - symbolic of the hopelessness of struggle against it. It is a predatory creature and guardian of the Underworld. Its' will is imposed from many directions, strikes both fluid and deadly. And relentless. A creature formidable and overwhelming, with unsatiable appetite for dominion, devouring and wrath. Woe to he who catches the Hydra's gaze, her many heads and snapping jaws will find a way to consume him.

~The letters from Hades~



"We will be coming up on <a href="http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Dreshdae"> Dreshdae </a> momentarily, Commander" the aide announced, but to no acknowledgement from the Sith sitting with steepled fingers in the Captain's chair. There was an awkward moment while the aide debated within himself whether he should repeat the statement, or perhaps give a little tap on her shoulder to first get her attention, or to just pivot on his heel and withdraw. Nervous eyes looked to him, most failing to meet his own directly - none wanting to be sucked into the great vortex of ill-temper that might accompany which ever decision he made. The aide's forehead sprouted beads of sweat and he made way to say his words again with a pitifully timid cough, "Ahem"

Hera hated the military. The whole stiff, reserved, to-the-letter orderliness of it all irritated her beyond measure, and not least of all, the scraping, prostrating plimps that served as her 'staff' being the worst. They were always hovering, wanting her to sign-off on this and sign-off on that. None of them would take a break, or leave her presence or frelling break wind without her permission. It was exausting. Every time she turned around there was one under foot requesting a nod to this or that, or begging her pardon for the interuption or Ahem-ing, like this fool beside her.

"Dont cough on me, you little roach" she snarled acidly, "and what is it?"

To his credit, the aide remained stoic, weathering her glare and steadying his chin for the hit he'll likely take on it.

"We approach Dreshdae, Commander"

Oh, and the Commander thing, that was bloody annoying as well. Hera rarely realised they were talking to her and found herself often snapping her head up expecting to see that Tear had entered the room. It had happened so often that lately she had been willing herself to tune it out. Probably explained why her staff had to keep repeating themselves to her.

"Bout time" she growled, ungratefully. "Have they attacked the city yet?"

"They are awaiting your order to commence the engagement" he re-phrased.

And that was another thing, the military-speak. Hera was used to saying what she meant, why were they always dressing it up to sound pretty or like they were off to a debutante ball? Tear's forces were to invade Korriban and establish dominion. They were to smash all resistance and kill any who got in the way. She doubted the locals would find anything engaging about that at all. "General Ottenue is on line for you" he prompted carefully.

"Fine" Hera waved her fingers inpatiently and the aide passed her a hand-held commvid connecting her to the commander of the 'Bow Breaker'

"We are in position, Madam, awaiting your pleasure" Ottenue opened, a thin man who was greying at the temples, who showed none of the intimidation of the aide.

"You'll begin the bombardment as planned?" Hera asked.

"Yes, the area around the city and key targets within" he responded, eyes hard and staring unerringly forward. "The Commerce Guild buildings are not plentiful, given the history of Korriban, and we will try to keep in tact what is there for our benefit of use for when take possession. We will spare the Academy buildings if you wish.."

Hera barely blinked, "I dont care, just leave something standing so we dont have to sleep under a rock."

This had all been decided in talks before any of the forces had divided from Tear's main fleet. The military men did not need Hera's input, their submission was simply a courtesy ordered by Tear himself as part of keeping the chain of command. Strongholds of authority would be established in various centers of Korriban (such as they were) - Dreshdae, the Valley of the Dark Lords, wherever the barren wasteland had permitted a feeble stranglehold of inhabitants. The planets violent and volitile history had not allowed for much of anything to thrive. Tear had basically sent them to overthrow a desolate and abhorrent region of the galaxy who's worth Hera felt lay in its past and not in its future. But who was she to argue? Tear was the mastermind, and she would get a chance to kill something.

The former Grand Inquisitor was right in one thing, however, she increasingly bent to acknowledge - the closer they got to the Sith planet, the stronger the presence of the Darkside could be felt. A rare smile softened her face.

"Good" she said crisply, "I will join you on the ground once your initial attack is complete. "

[Hera]

Aboard the Bow Breaker

Ottenue watched the Sith's face disolve from the communique screen as he signed off, all evidence of his inner thoughts veiled blankly behind a discipline mastered over years of service.

A superior officer was just that - superior. Whether she deserved it or not was not even a question. Tear commanded his obedience and he, Ottenue, distinguished and decorated officer of the Imperial Navy, would obey.

Rising through the naval ranks as a young man, commissioned his first command at twenty three and now, almost thirty years on, Captain of the Bow Breaker and Second Section Chief of the task force "Hydra" (Hera's idea) - Ottenue was established in his own authority enough to understand his place in his Commander's grand scheme. A victory, be it credited to himself or that darksider, was still a victory. Tear's victory. And Ottenue would see it done.

He had deployed the ships in his fleet accordingly, with their escorter fighters already launched in preparation to hammer down on Dreshdae so as to knock all resistance off its legs before getting a chance to even rise.

They would establish a headquarters in the city and then launch a series of multi-pronged assaults in the outlaying areas, thrusting their authority in an ever widening degree.

The planet had a long history of battles lost and won on its barren wastes. As the holy land of the Sith, such a violent past did not surprise him. If anything, it was logical.

Ottenue understood, too, the military strategy of holding Korriban. It was a psychological card to play against the masses. Civillians still feared the Sith, and rightly so. Stories of their atrocities and their complete disregard for any law but their own had not paled over time, or despite the long, bloody, years of the Purge. The Sith were bogey men in the collective galactic conscience that would never, ever dim. Such a mecca as Korriban in the hands of Tear's navy, overseen by his Sith psycho-amour would not sit well with even the most dedicated disavowers of the Force. It would at the very least make his enemies uncomfortable and his neighbours open to his overtures.

"Tell Lt. Jarros we begin" Ottenue ordered, "He can take the line in"

"Yes sir" snapped a reply.

From his chair, Captain Ottenue looked across to the command ship, "Maiden's Blade" holding place beside him, and he tried to forget the ice blue eyes of the woman at its helm. They would certainly not destroy the Sith Academy further than its current ruinous state, however, despite her remark, Ottenue wasn't quite convinced that Hera wasn't already one to sleep under a rock.

[Hera]

Aboard the Maiden's Blade

Hera watched the retreating back of the Aide as he removed himself from her immediate proximity. Even as he stepped away, she could feel the tension that coiled itself about him like a viper slacken only slightly. His trepidation - it was a gratifying sensation.

She had been too long without the respect she deserved, the fear that was warrented whenever she was around. The Inquisitoriate had done that to her. Her blame of them was complete, if not entirely justified.

Certainly, her loss of her force ability for such a length of time was not the Empire's doing, directly, but they had exploited it and humiliated her with an extended imprisonment and torturous punishments in their Citadel. Helghast, Valten, their Nightmare officers..they were all culpable and would all one day feel the reward of their maltreatment against her. What a good day that would be. She saw their faces in her minds eye, even now, and imagined them twisted with pain, their handsome features ugly in blood and she wondered if they ever considered they might see her again.

It was true that Tear was not himself underserving of her vengence, but his position had altered somewhat since the days of her initial capture. She had not forgiven his past wrongs - and they were many - and she most certainly had not forgotten. How could she? The very incarnation of one of his worst affronts was aboard this very vessell, lurking about as <a href="http://www.sw-fans.net/forum/member.php?u=4418">twin abominations,</a> appearing to Hera at times designed, she was convinced, to cause her the most discomfort. As she stepped from the shower or awaking from a nights sleep, or when she was quietly studying the ancient texts Tear had shared with her, when her mind was almost free from their insulting presence.

They would stroll about her like wraiths from the Underworld, watching, listening - phantoms who refused to be banished, bound by blood and flesh to her as daughters. No, Hera had not forgiven. But Tear had become useful and, she hated to admit it, necessary. Her need of him had become greater than her need to punish him for the things he had done. Her wrath would find other targets.

<a href="http://www.sw-fans.net/forum/member.php?u=4453"> Naberius</a> found himself in that unenviable position and he was one of the reasons Hera submitted so readily to come to Korriban, this planet of the Sith, where power old and secreted might reveal itself to her. Here, in Korriban, Hera fully anticipated finding a way to pry the Trandoshan's toxic claws from Tear's flesh and bring the reptile to his scaly knees before her own feet.

As Ottenue commenced the intial assault on Dreshdae, Hera relished the possibilities of Korriban that lay cloaked behind a mantle of dust and time. She had many enemies, many scores to settle. She was Sith, and could not think of a more appropriate place to arm herself against those who had set themselves against her.

[Firenne Khapst]

It hadn't been on Dantooine.

The cold, slithering sensation of knowing had guided her across planets and systems. Mired in darkness, it drew her as if to a certain destination, or, in fact, to her destiny. On Dantooine, it all splintered apart. There was nothing she could do to evade the sharp, vicious energy of the woman who found her there. The power had washed over her senses, altering everything she thought she knew, leaving only pain and confusion in its wake, even the darkness' guidance had fallen silent.

Firenne could still hear her laughter.

It had been nearly three months since that night; three months that she'd spent avoiding every known Imperial installation of any size. She didn't want Soren to get word of her condition...not only would be worry, but he'd presume as he always did that he knew best. That she just needed to come home, and she'd find her way.

There was nothing she could do, Firenne mused, that would ever change his mind. What she needed wasn't nearly so simple.

She needed to belong somewhere, to have a sense of purpose. Nothing had worked until now. Nothing had drawn her in like a moth to a flame except the dark energy she could taste and feel. Like the pain she could sense from others that gave her such a jolt of pleasure and power it was like overdosing on pure spice...especially when she caused it.

The woman had been on Korriban for almost two weeks, eager to explore the planet's dark history for herself. She'd barely set foot on the desolate landscape when the darkness had reasserted itself, slithering into every fiber of her being and taking root once more. The pleasure was so darkly intense that she'd passed out, and eventually woke to find herself sprawled out in one of the subterranean passages of the Sith Academy.

Stumbling on a loose paving stone jolted her out of her thoughts. Firenne hissed as she reached out to steady herself on the nearby wall and felt the sting of a cut form across her palm. Dark chocolate eyes flared a brilliant crimson as she continued forward, absently pressing a length of cloth to the wound. Blinking against the sudden red tint to her vision, she glanced over her shoulder towards the balcony she'd come from. Streaks of light raced through the early morning sky, while plumes of smoke and debris denoted where they'd hit.

Korriban was under attack...or at the very least, Dreshdae was. Her breath caught in her throat as she retreated, making her way into what had once been the prison wing, where she'd tucked away her few things and created a makeshift sleeping place. On the small, uncomfortable pallet, Firenne curled up and tried to remember to breathe as the darkness overwhelmed her senses.

[Hera]

Aboard the Maiden's Blade

Fleeing ships made easy targets for the Blade's fighter pilots Hera saw, as one after another flaming starbursts erupted within the scope of her view screen, replacing machine with vacant space.

The planetside bombardment by Ottenue's forces had left no doubt on the populace below that the great ships darkening their skyline meant business. Quick thinkers fled to their transports in hopes of outrunning the unprovoked attack. Those of the slower mental persuasion ran from one exploding building to another, seeking shelter.

Dreshdae was not a large settlement, although it had at one point boasted itself as the planet's capitol. But that was in the good old days of the flourishing Sith empires. By turns, the city had seen overlords come and go, rousted violently by their determined enemies, so events like this one that rained hell without warning from the heavens was not something long-time inhabitants weren't used to.

The population was a transient one for the most part. Traders, smugglers and adventurers alike passed through, or passed away, here as their fate may dictate. Some enterprising individuals had set up shop and attempted to build a life here, these were the ones who did not run, who did not panic now. Remnants of the Commerce Guild perhaps, or just souls that preferred not to be found amongst the mainstream of the Galaxy. These simply prepared to ride things out and see what new task master was set with the notion to re-invigor Korriban to old glories and misuses. These were the ones Hera must win.

Captain Ottenue appeared once again on the comm-vid screen and was gingerly slotted into Hera's view by her estwhile Aide. Again, apparently, she had not heard what the Aide had said and that the Captain was on the line. She must get out of that habit of ignoring him, she might just miss something important. Hera snatched the comm-vid from his hands, making the Aide jump.

"Madam, I am taking my shuttle to the surface. Our ground forces are clearing an area for us to set up temporarily until we decide on our permanent base. I recommend you wait aboard the Maiden's Blade until such a time as we are established"

"Nonsense, Ottenue" Hera replied coolly, "We will follow you in"

She snapped off the communication and pushed the device into the aide's chest.

"Get my shuttle prepped and arm yourself. We go planetside."


Dreshdae

The shuttle blast doors opened and a swirl of dry heat and smoke-laden wind engulfed its occupants. Inside their helmets, the troopers heads swivelled to scan their immediate surroundings, blaster rifles at the ready and trigger fingers primed. There was a calm orderliness to the soldiers about her, they were alert but not apprehensive and Hera admired it, their training doing them proud.

The streets were a mess. Tumbled blocks of smoking stone and twisted durasteel cast a landscape of wreckage and debris as far as one could see. Not all of it was their doing, parts of Dreshdae simply looked this way.

"Captain Ottenue is set up a short distance that way" one of the troopers said, pointing his arm to the east. "They are waiting for you in a tavern called Zan Arbor. He says they have swept for snipers, but still to be careful"

Hera stepped from the shuttle and immediately felt a surge of dark force power seize her, its welcome fire threading its way though her body. Beside her, she knew the troopers felt something also, but the effect on them was much different to hers, a sense of forboding enveloped them, a heaviness that none of them could account for.

"Lets move" she said, desiring to press forward and keep the men beside her focused.

A tavern was a good idea. A drink was in order, certainly. Perhaps she might come to like this Captain Ottenue. Atleast Korriban had taverns. That also was something to be grateful for.

"Shoot anyone who even looks our way" Hera ordered as she stepped into the street.

[Firenne Khapst]

Crimson eyes unfocused and glazed over as she lay there, under the thrall of the darkness. It screamed through her very veins as if there was no blood left, assaulting her every sense and leaving each one raw and painful.

There were fissures in her mind, cracks that the darkness flowed in and out of. The feel of it fascinated her, a sensation that felt as much a part of her as anything else. Firenne sighed as it receded slightly, allowing her the ability to rise and stumble out of her tiny space.

Something inexplicable drew her forward, out to the very top of the last remaining portion of the Sith Academy. An observation deck had been constructed into the basalt that surrounded the entrance, which offered a wide, clear view of the area leading up to it.

Everything was still washed in a crimson haze, pulsing around the edges to the precise beat of her heart. Aircraft hovered over and landed in and around Dreshdae, framed by plumes of smoke and still smoldering fires. The bombardment hadn't lasted very long...or, she mused, the darkness had held in thrall far longer than she realized.

Firenne turned at the soft scratching sound behind her, finding a fearsome creature waiting there. A tuk'ata, according to the locals, with hellfire eyes that guarded the tombs in the Valley. A place she had been meaning to go...until, apparently, it came to her. Fearsome was, however, a relative term...it barely came up to her waist as it padded up to her side and butted its horned head into her hand, inviting her to rest her hand there.

The darkness had risen within her at the creature's approach, stirring as a dust cloud rose off in the distance. A transport, Fi thought...coming here, the darkness told her. She bit her lower lip, drawing blood enough to fill her mouth with its coppery tang. She turned and went back inside, the tuk'ata following obediently as she threaded her way through the ruins of the complex.

The tattered hem of her silken shift clung to her legs as she walked, fingers threading absently through her tangled sable curls. She returned to the small space she'd claimed as her own and curled herself into it to wait, her tuk'ata companion sprawled attentively at her side.

[Hera]

Zan Arbor Tavern

Hera sat opposite Ottenue, her fingers curled lightly around a short glass of vodka. Across from her, the Captain sipped from a bottled water before speaking. "As I said, there is no need to round everyone up and shoot them. The locals who have not fled are of the 'wait and see' persuasion. They wont give us any trouble."

"And how do you know this Captain?" Hera queried benignly.

Lt. Jarros stood beside him, watching the exchange in silence. He was a powerfully built fellow, broad shoulders and a barrell chest, His hands were the size of dinner plates and when balled into a fist would feel like solid bricks if struck by them. He was much like a pet gorilla, Hera mused inwardly.

"This is not my first invasion, Madam, " Ottenue continued, "A man gets a feel for such things"

"A feel.." She managed to sound less than impressed. "Or could it just be that you think you know better than I?"

Ottenue met her with a cold look, "There's that" he agreed boldly.

Lt. Jarros allowed the corner of his mouth to lift in the beginnings of a smile, proud of his Captain. Hera saw it and Jarros determinedly held the look for her benefit before dropping back into a blank expression. The Sith may have wormed her way into their leadership by some nefarious means, but that didn't mean they had to like it. Poor Inquisitor Tear, what spell had he fallen victim too? Jarros made a mental note to himself to remember to pray for him.

"Hm" Hera allowed the insolent Lt. his victory and tipped her glass to her lips.
"Then who am I to argue with experience, Captain?" she conceeded with a sly grace, "We each of us have our area of expertise and I shall defer to your knowledge, as I know you will to mine."

"Thankyou, Madam"

"So, while you put your men to good use making lists of the inhabitants of this 'wait and see' town and determine who is of value to us and can be exploited to the fullest, I will take some men and have a look at the Old Academy buildings" She stood, clearly closing the conversation. "We will need people who know the Valley of the Dark Lords who can serve as guides and if any one proves unwilling to comply, you can leave them for me and I will use some of my expertise in the Dark side to correct that." She smiled brightly, taking her departure, "Lt. Jarros - you come with me."




Subterranean passages of the Sith Academy

The air was stale and tasted bitter. Many times since the small group had passed under the granite entrance into the Academy, the men had repeatedly been spitting to the dirt in an effort to rid themselves of the acrid flavor that lined the inside of their mouths. They had stepped from daylight into darkness and despite utilising their luminiscent light-rods, their step had gone from solid and confident to precarious and wary. To Jarros, only Hera appeared uneffected, but this was an inaccurate observance. She was indeed impressed upon by the atmosphere of the passages, only the sensation was one of increasing excitement and awareness. The porus stone walls, whose surface crumbled off in stones and dust when brushed against, seemed to seep out the voices of the dark ones from the past, urging them onward, calling them deeper in.

A turn in the passageway came and the skin on Hera's neck prickled in apprehension. Something old and dangerous lurked just ahead. She passed her own light rod to Lt. Jarros and said quietly, "You go take a look."

Jarros stepped obediently forward and unclipped his blaster from his belt. His shadow fell across the Sith and he could not see the dark smile she gave as he moved stealthily beyond her.

[The Gemellae]

Earlier

Dreshdae was in chaos. Her streets like infected arteries were thick with panic. Her people, her blood, coursing madly through her in stampedes. Her s was a voice of thousands all screaming in terror. All unable to flee the blanket of fire that fell from the skies.

A group of her citizens, their legs jelly from adrenaline, were fleeing now on nothing but instinct. They ran from one street to the next, from one shelter to another, like rats they scurried and scrambled. A brief collision that occurred when another pack, fleeing from an adjoining alleyway, speared into them but even that wasn’t enough to slow their mindless momentum. Their combined fear so primal it blocked all rational thought. Most didn’t know where they were running too anymore. Their frantic bodies propelling them ever faster within this shared current of desperation. Until finally, around the wrong corner, a wrong bend in the road, with little but a flinch or a scream their lives were ended with echoing cracks of plasma.

Dreshdae’s citizens, who had fled out from her heart and across her spanning landscape. Reaching out with desperate fingers attempting to pierce beyond her city limits. But before those finger tips could clutch freedom they were sheared away, or more accurately, cauterized. The agents of their deaths slid through the swelling masses like needles through a tapestry. Their instruments held a rhythmic hum with fingers squeezed tight as they thrummed a fateful tempo for each victim. Each life was building to it’s own crackling, sizzling, crescendo and then, with blood spattered red hair sticking to their faces the two conductors stood alone amidst so many corpses like played notes. Their twirling dance had threaded a permanent silence in that part of the city ending their dark song. All that remained was the rumbling bass of a concluding orbital bombardment. The battle for Dreshdae was nearing it’s end.

The fiery haired twins stepped delicately through the field of corpses they had created. Ellae, who was identical to her twin in everyway save for a dark tattoo over her right eye and another along her jaw line, deactivated her lightsaber. Freeing both hands as she kneeled down to retrieve a shiny bauble from the severed limb of one her victims.

“Father will be happy.” Ellae commented as she inspected the piece. Giving a satisfied nod to herself before clipping the trinket to a clasp hanging from her hip which jangled to the tune of a growing collection.

Ellae’s sister Gem hummed a tune of boredom in response. There was no sport to be had here. It had been a slaughter the minute the assault had commenced. The cities limited defences, built more to defend from wasteland raiders, had been vaporized in an instant from orbit. On the ground Dreshdae’s local militia, meagre as it was, had at least mobilized into small positions throughout the city. Their resistance was notable but ultimately futile.

“Maybe.“ Gem had caught a man crawling on his belly away from the mass of dead. His escape detailed by a wake of blood soaked sand. Gem had caught up to the dying man with a few long strides and was now prodding him forward with her booted toe.

“Gem.” Ellae spoke in an alerted tone.

Raising her attention from the weeping man Gem caught a directing nod from her sister toward an old couple with a child standing in the doorway of their home. They faces were remarkably calm for the death and chaos that had just ran screaming down their streets.

“They aren’t afraid?” Gem questions as she squinted in concentration searching the small families feelings.

“No.” Ellae deactivated her weapon causing the old couple to bow their heads in reverence. “They have been here a long time. They understand what is happening.”

The air crackled with the roar of engines. A shuttle, flanked by fighters, speared across the sky making a drooping arc toward the center of the city. Both twins raised their heads in unison at the shuttles passing.

“Mother is here.” Ellae remarked coldly.

“Should we go to her?”

“Not yet. Father sent us here for the book. We retrieve it first.” Ellae turned from the house and looked over the streets filled with the massacred. “Mother must not know.”

[Hera]

Standing in the close confines of the tunnel, Hera allowed the dark energy to envelope her. Behind her, she could hear the tense breaths of the men with her and could smell their persipration as it soaked through shirt sleeves and collars, both. They were apprehensive, even fearful, and who could blame them? They were not equipped for such exposure to the sinister elements. She wondered that they had not already broken and run.

Mental images came to her, the shadows of dark deeds done by those who had passed this way before her drifted menacingly through her mind's eye and prickled at her senses. Visions of savage and cruel acts, twisted torments that crushed both weak and strong alike. Faces and identities were indistinct, but the anguish was pristine in its clarity. The blonde Sith marvelled that Jarros had not crumbled to his knees and begged permission to turn back. The other men were stirring now, fidgeting and even beginning to back up a few steps the way they had come. Only mere moments and they would run.

Hera stood fast. "See anything Lieutenant?"

Jarros did not reply but Hera knew he continued forward as she could hear the soft shuffling of his feet. He was brave. That was something, she supposed.

"Lieutenant....?"

[Firenne Khapst]

The beat of her heart had long since synchronized with the ebb and flow of dark energies surrounding her, holding her deeply in their thrall. Everything else faded away from her awareness, leaving her to feel as if the darkness had embraced her as her own mother once had.

That, however, seemed a lifetime ago...and such a fragmented feeling that she doubted if it was ever her own.

Blinking, Firenne rose to a crouch, flicking her fingers out towards her tiny lamp. It obediently turned itself off, and her tuk'ata growled softly until her fingers rested on the back of its neck. Silence reigned once more as her head tilted, reaching with raw, inflamed senses. Like rough canvas across an open wound, awareness flooded across her senses. The scurry of insects, the beat of her tuk'ata's heart, the thump of footsteps, the distant whine of ships' engines...

Footsteps.

Drawing ever closer. Heartbeats.

Fear. Palpable and decadent, the fear of men burned across her tongue like a fine, aged liquor.

Power. Rapier sharp, controlled, and endless font...with a feminine allure. Like the woman she'd once seen on Tatooine, who's crimson gaze would forever be burned in her memory.

There would be time, she breathed, releasing her hold on the tuk'ata and bidding it to stay with a fractured bit of power. A drop compared to the waterfall that pulsed around her, but it was enough. One set...one set of footsteps separated from the group, coming forward as the others held back. Firenne cast her fingers about where she was crouched, gathering a number of the obsidian shards that littered the smooth stone floor.

Her bare feet made little sound as she moved, stepping as sure-footed as if the passage was lit, as opposed to suffocating in darkness. It made no difference to her, as she followed the tug of the dark energy, shuddering as she drew closer and his fear became sharper and more distinct. A tiny burble of maddened laughter passed her lips, giving the man pause before he called out, his voice cracking. "Show yourself!"

Rounding the bend in the passageway, Fi stopped just out of range of his glowstick, another slip of laughter announcing her proximity. Hands behind her back, the shift pulled snugly across her figure, her head dipped down as if avoiding his gaze. "You shouldn't be here...you're not welcome here..." she whispered in a faintly sing-song tone, a smile curling her lips.

Jarros snorted and shook his head as he shuffled forward, movements careful, blaster trained on her chest. "Who are you and why are you here?"

His movements ceased as she finally looked up, eyes a fathomless ocean of black, no iris or pupil to be found. Her smile looked out of place, and only made her soft laughter sound all that much more mad. "I've been waiting for you, of course...waiting for someone..." she murmured, sliding forward with a peculiar grace. His first shot grazed her shoulder, while the second went wide, missing her completely as she slid back into the shadows outside of the reach of his glowstick.

Firenne circled around him, the pain in her shoulder flaring across her raw senses. Her demeanor changed, twisting from viciously playful to something that Jarros would have called hungry if she'd given him the chance. A sizeable rock flew up and knocked his blaster away as she stepped back into the light just at the periphery of his vision. "...for someone to play with..." He whirled, the glowstick clutched tight as she struck, driving one of her obsidian shards into the back of his left knee. Her hand fisted in his hair, yanking his head back, his shout of pain dissolving into a wet gurgle as the she shard in her free hand flashed in the light before slicing deep into his neck.

It looked like the garish parody of a smile, she mused, letting him drop as she paced around him, purring with dark pleasure as something tickled at the edge of her mind. Absently, she licked the blood from her fingertips, detached and fascinated as he tried to form words, his lips moving and the blood frothing from the font of his neck. "See...now I did that too quickly...aww..." Firenne's head shot up, gazing past him down the passageway from which he'd come. Her heart pounded in her chest, fingers clasped tightly around the long obsidian shard that dripped with blood.

The glowstick twitched in his hand as Jarros finally burbled his last, casting a shuddering light over her form as she stood there, the darkness bidding her to wait.

[Hera]

The backwood drift of the soldiers halted immediately upon the sound of the blaster fire. To a man they shifted in purpose and rushed foward, jostling past Hera as if she wasnt there, to enter the fray.

This was what they knew. This is who they were - soldiers, a unit of force against a common foe - and one of their own was in danger.

A sphere of illumination preceded them down the dark passage as they held lightsticks aloft, calling to Jarros as they progressed. Weapons all drawn, each man was alive with triggered instincts, his senses tuned to catch any detail or signal that may reveal a threat or expose an assailant.

"There he is" One of them called, his voice angry and alarmed. Emotions were high.

A few of the men clustered around Jarros's body, one bending to check for signs of life, while the rest spread themselves as a curtain across the passageway to cut off any escape through them. Hera stepped between them and looked down at the Lieutenant, a bloody mess. Someone had got up nice and close.

She looked up to peer into the darkness and scanned the edges of the walls. She could feel the darkside pulsing out toward her from one particular spot.
Curious.

"We will kill you if you run" she announced in a loud voice, which gave cause for more than one side-ways glance her way. The men had seen nothing.

"I, will kill you if you run" Hera clarified for the darksider clinging to the shadows, knowing she would understand the critical distinction, one force-user to another.

"Step forward"