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Danaan Kerr
Jan 6th, 2001, 10:40:30 PM
“No, this one shan’t do. Kill it”, the man in the beige robes intoned. His icy cold eyes that had been, until moments ago, fixed upon the child turned away as he walked forward a few steps. The child’s mother let out a wail as a trio of men swooped down upon her son, glints of steel showing as they withdrew wickedly curved knives from their belts in unison. The edges of Danaan’s mouth curved upward into something that looked frighteningly like a smile as the pair of blood-curdling screams erupted behind him. The mother would have to be eliminated as well, if she kept up that incessant screaming.

Finished with their task, the three men returned behind their master, falling in step with him as they wiped their weapons clean. Still smiling, Danaan slowed and allowed his gaze to roam for a few moments, surveying the gathered masses. They were lined up on either side of the street, crowded into not-quite-straight rows. Parents were holding their children close, hugging them fervently in a vain attempt to protect them. The few children without anyone to look after them were nervously looking back and forth, as if wondering how they got here. Or perhaps, if they should stay.

Although he hadn’t been keeping track, Danaan Kerr assumed that this was roughly the 13th city he had visited on Rannon, so far. Port Kulus, if he remembered the name of it correctly. As it stood, he hadn’t found as many students on this backwater planet as he had been hoping. It was so hard to find children that were strong enough in the Force to be shaped on planets such as these: much more difficult than he had anticipated. And when he did finally find one, the idiotic relatives would somehow butt in and try to stop him. But contrary to what they might think, he found it all the more pleasing when they resisted, when the child wasn’t willing to join him in a new life. Those with the strongest wills were always the most loyal after they’d been broken, after all.

One of the people of the crowd decided to burst free from the rest, running into the middle of the street. Perhaps he was trying to run, and escape what he must have felt was a doomed fate. Danaan was about to order one of his students to kill the wayward peasant when he noticed that it was but a child. And this child wasn’t running from him, but towards him. The kid was yelling out curses of some sort in his native language, bending over to scoop up a handful of rocks as he approached the cloaked man. Raising a hand to hold off the men behind him, Danaan closed his eyes, allowing himself to reach out with the Force into the surrounding area. He seemed totally oblivious as the child pelted him with small stones, and his men were shifting uncomfortably behind him. He snapped open his eyes just in time to see a pair of parents rushing up behind the child, trying to restrain him, hoping to save him from whatever fate the Dark Jedi had planned. Oh, the irony of it all.

Danaan raised one his hands, splaying his palm open wide in the general direction of the family ahead of him. His fingertips began to become illuminated, seemingly of their own accord, and the gathered crowd gasped, almost as one. Still tugging at the child’s clothing, the mother and father sheepishly slowed their actions, taking note of the energy that danced on the ends of the Jedi’s fingertips. In their minds, there was nothing much left to be done for their son, and so they cautiously took a few steps backwards, hoping to at least avoid whatever it was he was going to do. A wicked smile crossed Danaan’s lips as they did so. He struck out his arm into the air before him, as if stabbing an invisible object, and the collected energy that had been gathered in his hand was released, blackish-blue lightning dancing off his fingers and snaking through the air. It arced across the sky shooting at a break-neck speed towards the child. His parents did the only thing they could think of and ducked, covering their heads with both their arms. Their son was as good as dead.

As it approached, the lightning forked in mid-air, splitting into a V-shape and missing the child entirely, and the Dark Jedi’s true target was revealed. Each prong of the forked lightning struck one of the parents, coalescing and encompassing their crouched forms. Twin screams of pain filled the air, mirroring each other in their intensity. The crowd, again moving as a whole, cringed at the brutal display of force, and Danaan Kerr lowered his hand back to his side, allowing the tendrils of energy to die down. The child looked about, stunned into silence at the proceedings he had just witnessed as the robed man strode calmly towards him.

“What’s your name, child?” he spoke.

The young boy began to sniffle, not willingly to say anything to the bad man that had just murdered his parents.

“You will answer me or suffer the same fate as those two. Those people are no longer your parents. I am. I am your mother, from which you will be nurtured, and I am your father, from which you will be disciplined. Is that clear?”

The boy squinted his eyes closed, bowing his head, before he spoke in a soft voice, barely above a whisper.

“My name is Cutty, sir”, he said simply. Danaan frowned at hearing this.

“That is perhaps the stupidest name I’ve ever heard. Your name shall henceforth be… Aleck.”

The child nodded once again, biting his lower lip. Danaan once again smiled.

“Now, Aleck; you will be brought back to my retreat not too far from here. There, you will be molded into my image. You will be a Jedi, like myself.”

http://nupraptor.clanhappy.com/DanaanKerr.jpg

Darth Delirion
Jan 13th, 2001, 07:52:09 PM
<font color="#COCOCO">The uneven flickering of the torches on the wall bathed the hall into an unnatural orange light, casting grotesquely dancing shadows on the walls and floor. A thick and cloying feeling of spent emotions lay in the air.
A massive shadow reared up against one wall, and suddenly the hall rang with the scornful, bitter laughter in a man's deep voice. The echo of his laugh seemed to join his own giant shadow in a menacing dance of their own. It was the shadow that seemed to speak, at last, not the man itself, and his voice carried a malevolence that seemed to dim the torches' fire even.

"Deceitful child! Do I have to teach you again the value of fear?"

A sharp sound rang out, of something hard and heavy hitting human bone. A feeling of fleeing air, of the shadows pressing deeper, their malevolent dance threatening to drown. The air was filled with a strange surge, like an organ that had all the while been playing one note that had suddenly and painfully risen higher in alarm. Cold seeped in, to chill bone and blood, and thick blood flowed freely on the stone cold floor. The shadows came nearer, hungry for that blood, swirling faster and faster, circling around like a vortex, taking air and warmth and light away. And then even they took the hate and fear away, and brought immense pain, infusing with agony.

A scream rent the air apart, and shook the shadows - but when they left, they left nothing but a broken body on the floor, pale and spiritless.</font>



A low moan escaped from parched and blood-smeared lips.

The interior of the cockpit was lit only sparsely, but could not hide the motionless body of the woman lying crumpled on the ground behind the pilot's seat. She looked like she had dragged herself into the ship just to drop to the ground before she could reach the controls.

Deathly pale she looked; her broken and bruised body did not seem able to hold her fragile life, and she did not look alive were it not for the weak and slow pulsating of a vein at her throat and the low rasping of an irregular breath.

A solitary yellow blinking light on the cockpit panel showed the autopilot on, and the ship was hurtling through hyperspace, towards an uncertain future.

http://delirion.clanpages.com/del/Del_young.jpg

Darth Rane
Jan 14th, 2001, 04:52:27 PM
Corellia:

The air ringed out with a deafening roar, razor-sharp shards of stone splintering and slicing through the air at screaming speeds in every which direction. Darth Rane stood motionless for several moments before withdrawing his massive hand, flexing his black-tipped fingers open and closed a few times. Chunks of rock and dirt fell off and onto the ground, and Rane almost allowed a smile to twist his features. He had managed to destroy the whole thing in a single blow: quite an accomplishment, even for him.

His red, pointed tongue darted out between his lips, lightly brushing them in a vain attempt to alleviate their parched nature. As he brought his tongue back into his mouth, he allowed it to touch one of his fanged teeth, creating a light wound in it. The coppery-sweet taste of blood began to fill his mouth, and he reveled in the delight. It had been so long since he had tasted the crimson nectar of another; perhaps he would get the chance again soon.

Jeseth Cloak
Jan 14th, 2001, 11:26:22 PM
Also On Corellia...

Jeseth's eyes glimmered with the reflections of a thousand million pixels. The light seemed to flow over his irises and dilate his pupils, pouring in by it's own accord. The corners of his lips bent upwards, allowing a smile to come across his face.
<font size=1 color=lightgreen>
.
.
.
Danaan Kerr - Unknown
.
.
Effrin Zorab - Deceased
.
.
Gav Mortis - Deceased
.
.
.</font>

The list went on steadily. All of them deceased--Except Danaan Kerr. Jeseth yawned, his energy slowly seeping away.

Danaan Kerr...

He remembered the name and shut of his terminal. He would find this Danaan Kerr. He had to be somewhere. People don't just disappear... Do they?

Adalric Brandl
Jan 15th, 2001, 02:49:47 AM
Time. Time was essential. Time was... it was time. How ironic that during life, one did not consider how fleeting its passage was, but only in death, one learned to appreciate the passing of time, as it slipped through one's fingers like ash.

How curious the thought. The ever-recurring thought of ashes and death, death and ash, and fire, and pain, and the sickening agony of the spirit's newfound bared freedom as it loosened its bonds from mortal body. And ashes, so many ashes.

Revenge - that bittersweet word that echoed the silent agony of his incorporeal thoughts with every minute and hour and day and month and year that it existed - revenge would come soon.

Sooner even, if the body could be reached. Through the body, the controls could be reached. Through the controls, the ship could be reached. Through the ship, there was revenge.

It was time.

http://www16.brinkster.com/delirion/Adalric3.jpg

Darth Delirion
Jan 15th, 2001, 03:31:29 AM
Delirion's unconscious body suddenly sat up, as if drawn by invisible strings. Stiffly her head was lifted, and the eyes opened to narrow slits - showing the pure white of her eye underneath it.

Her body, twitching slightly as if under a spell she tried to escape from, continued to rise horizontally from the ground as if lifted by unseen hands, then suddenly her feet fell downward until she stood almost vertically.

An agonised groan came from her, and the violent twitching that had built up subsided, as is she had given up fighting against the force holding her in place.

Her sightless, senseless, near-lifeless body put forth one foot by the other, until her knees touched the navigation computer.

Then her hands were pulled forth, one to fasten with limp fingers around the lever that pulled the ship out of hyperspace, the other to have its palid fingers slowly move over the control panel to punch in a set of co-ordinates.

The lever to put the ship back into hyperspace did not need her touch to move it, yet the knuckles of her hand on the metal were white with the strain of her lifeless body being forced forward.

Suddenly, she fell backwards. Nothing held her now, no invisible force guiding her gently back onto the ground. No - with a sickening thud, her head hit the metal armrest of the pilot's chair, and her body slumped further down, falling, falling...


<font color="#c0c0c0">--plummeting towards the musty, leafy forest ground.

Brandl is standing over her, his gloating voice carrying all the disdain that he can possess, as he tells her to get up and take up the fight again.

Her head hurts so much from last night's failed rehearsal - another night spent lying on the cold stone floor of the big hall; lying in the blood trickling from the open wound on her head; lying there motionless, crying noiselessly once she had regained consciousness. Her head hurts too much to go on.

Brandl is shouting loudly, and she flinches away from the anger in his voice. She has no power, no energy is left in her body to fight back, to stand up against the hateful teacher. How can she go on?

If they would only go back. She does not want to be on this planet full of things that remind her of a life before this. Does he think she needs to prove her commitment? to prove her ability? Oh, how well he knows her- how well he knows that from the trees, an impossible feeling of peacefulness is spreading out into her bones, a peacefulness she seems unable to resist.

She does not know what is more painful - the nights rehearsing lines in unintelligible languages with an unmerciful master, or the days being chased through a forest of pitying trees, dodging blows from his saber that hits the trees instead. It is as if she can feel the pain she is causing, her existence is causing.

Finally it ends, as ,with a vicious backslap to her cheek, he has her reeling to the ground, last night's throbbing wound opened and bleeding again onto his fingers as he touches her face.

He stands over her again, and looks down into her eyes. A silent contest of wills it is, and one she has never won, nor any chance of ever winning. Suddenly, with a triumphant glare in his eyes, he looks upon the blood on his hand, and licks it off, watching her every move as he does so.

He turns around, and walks away, leaving her once more helpless.

"Pack up, we're leaving. Back to the old place."

That changes everything. The old place would be his doom - his death, if she has planned right; his lifelong imprisonment, if she has not.

His death. His doom. His utter destruction.</font>

Adalric Brandl
Jan 26th, 2001, 02:35:15 AM
--twisted pain where no pain could be. A spirit without a body - he had not expected to be so weak. was it possible at all?

Keeping her mind and body in check should not have been such a strain. After all, wasn't he much greater than this puny girl he'd wasted his last years of life on? Well, maybe "hadn't he been much greater" was the right term for it. He was pretty much dead now.

But that didn't mean that he couldn't take revenge. And that he would. All this was just. Just revenge.

Well, so he was weaker now than he had been.

But what did he care for weakness? It was of no matter to him. He only cared for revenge. That was the ultimate goal. The only goal. Nothing else mattered much. Nothing.

Manipulating her body like that had been a waste of time and energy, if one looked at it logically. But he wasn't sure if he cared for logic any more. It had been too much fun lifting her like a dead stick from the ground and making her do things while she coulnd't do anything against it. And dropping her like that had given him even more satisfaction.

Still, from now on, he would have to do everything himself. The plan said so. So he would do that. The plan was good. He would stick to the plan--

Delirion
Jan 29th, 2001, 03:45:52 AM
<font color="#c0c0c0">--she is running through the wood, coming after him. The trees seem to whisper in her ear, telling her to leave this place.... leave this planet... leave... take her deadened spirit and evil thoughts and leave...

Running through the yard, through the sickening beauty of the garden beckoning to her to play in it. Oh, how she wishes it could be so - but no, that is passed, is past. Thoughts of beauty and happiness lie distant in the past, never to be thought of again. Never to be indulged again.

It is a shaking and weeping creature that finally arrives at the door to her own sparse quarters. Just a small room - an old matress on the ground. Nothing there to take comfort from except that tiny old-fashioned leatherbound volume of a play Brandl had given into her care. And her aching head seems unable to bear anymore studying right now.

Hurling a weak-voiced curse at the ceiling, at Brandl, even though he is sure to hear it through the reverberations in the Force, she tries to find a way to ease the pain coursing through her tired body.

Finally, she sinks upon the cold stone floor, and falls into an uneasy sleep, haunted by strange premonitions and nightmares alike--</font>


With a startled groan, her eyes flew open. Her entire body felt weak, broken, bruised, and her mind held no memory of her own past after... after seeing Dara's face before her, a terrifying face holding the Sith's full anger and hate. She had not expected to have survived that. Maybe she had not even wanted to survive that dreadful afternoon...

But...

Where was she now? What was this place? A ship? What was the time? She talked of the monumental meeting with her Sith Master as of the past, therefore it had to be of the past. But how long...?

What had happened?

Why was she now in this ship - a ship she had no memory of, a ship she did not own? Where was it bringing her?

What was happening to her?

Jeseth Cloak
Jan 31st, 2001, 03:02:05 AM
"Cutty!"

Jeseth woke up, screaming painfully. His flesh felt as if it were kindling in flames, punishment for having called out the boy's true name. Sweat dripped from his face and hair as he stared into the darkness; It held him, bound tightly to his own echoes of a family once lost... His family.

Jeseth had seen him, and had seen another--another who just as easily saw him, and sent him spiraling into a menagerie of insanity and pain. He had seen Danaan Kerr. The apprentice's hand went out smoothly and a switch flicked across the room, activating the computer. The display lit up as he made his way to it, searching for something... something in his dream...


<font color=lightgreen size=1><font color=lightgreen>Burn Victims - Recent:</font>
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Endor
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Rannon
.
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Coruscant
.
.
Bespin
.
.
.</font>


Jeseth's eyes focused for a moment, the screen clearing as he continued to search.

Rannon...

He scanned through what may have been nearly a hundred deaths, all of them subject to lethal burns. Only one image was on file, and as he brought it up, he cringed in disgust. He had seen death, but never death like this. Something was guiding Jeseth's mind, but certainly not his own devices... Hands moved nimbly over the controls, searching for a pattern. Something told him to go to Rannon, and he wondered if he should ignore it.

Danaan Kerr
May 13th, 2001, 12:20:15 PM
Aleck was off being tortured... excellent. Learning to accept pain was the first step towards becoming a Jedi. It was a full minute before he could hear the child's screams echo across the stone walls and fill the air. The kid had quite a tolerance for suffering. He would make an exlemporary student.

Walking down the corridor, flanked on either side by his personal guards, Danaan Kerr staggered. Each of the guards instatly reached out to give him support, but he waved them off angrily. There wasn't anything physical assaulting him, so there was nothing these buffons could do.

"She's coming."

Each of the guards looked perplexedly at each other. One of them made a questioning gesture, and the other one shrugged in response.

"He told me... he told me I would have a new student, and he's kept his promise. Oh, how glorious it will be to have a True Force User. One who I don't need to waste my time with on the basics."

In unison, the bodyguards backed away from the Dark Jedi. They knew his fits of madness well enough to recognize when he was in the grips of one.

"Ah, but it will be more difficult: the older they are, the harder they are to shape and mold. But it is nothing I can't handle; I am the Jedi Master Danaan Kerr, and no creature's will can stand before me. Adalric Brandl has promised me a pupil, and a pupil I shall have. To bend to my omnipotent will and serve me."

Delirion
May 28th, 2001, 03:25:52 PM
Slowly she sat up, leaned against the pilot's chair, and pain flooded over her, through her, coming from her head, her back, her legs, her arms... her shoulder.

The pain in her shoulder was somehow different, more accute, sharper. She raised her other hand towards it, touched the center of the pain on her shoulder. Her fingers encountered encrusted blood, a cut into her skin. And as they traced along it, a pattern began to emerge. Letters.

DS.

<font color="#a0b0e0">--Dara is standing over her fallen body, sneering down at her, laughing at her foolishness and weakness. She is lying crumpled on the ground, nerves twitching from the force lightning that hit her. The Sith Lordess finally bends down, and with swift movements, cuts into her apprentice's skin the letters DS--</font>

Dara Shadowtide.

Hatred for the Sith welled up in her mind, strengthened her body. Yet she frowned upon herself, her own actions. Had she been misinformed? Had the incident on Halbara been a singular occurrence? The lightning should not have made her weaker, but strengthened her, if absorbing energy was indeed one of her own skills. Yet... what had blocked it?

Delirion staggered onto her feet. Every bone seemed to hurt, her legs feeling too weak to bear her own weight as she stood. But she willed herself to stand, gritted her teeth against the pain, shunned it aside in her mind, to join the hate that now seemed to fuel her will-power.

When she finally stood at the controls, looked at the co-ordinates fed into the navi-computer, she was confused again. Where was she going now?

Then fear overcame her. Who had set these co-ordinates? Had she herself, in some feverish state, given them to the computer, just any string of numbers that came to her? Was she now hurtling towards her own death as the ship was bound to fall into a star?

Her fingers gripped the lever to pull the ship back out of hyperspace.

Yet before she could do so, the button on the navi-comp lit up, began to blink. Relieved, she now pulled the lever back, brought the ship out of hyperspace.

The starlines receeded, became the single dotted white points of stars in black space. Not too far away, a green planet spun and orbited slowly around a distant yellow sun. Belatedly, she thought of consulting the ship's computer about her new location.

<font color="lightgreen" size="1">Query: Location?
.
.
.
System: Rannon
Planet: Rannon
Planet-type: Temperate Terrestrial
Temperature: Temperate
Atmosphere: Type I (Breathable)
Hydrosphere: Moderate
Gravity: Standard
Terrain: Mountainous Forests, Forests
Sentient Species: Humans, Rodians
Starport: Limited services
Population: 10 Million
Government: Cooperative Council
Tech Level: Space
.
.
.
History?
.
.
.
No.</font>

Knowledge of her location she now had - yet why was she here? What had brought her here of all places?

She extended her senses, tried to find a reason for her presence through the Force.... and found it. Something dark, something evil lurked below, beckoned to her, called her closer. What was down there?

Suddenly, static filled the cockpit, then dissolved into a voice: "Approaching vessel, please state your identity and purpose of visit on Rannon."

The voice drew her back into the ship, made her hesitate. Who was the ship registered to?

<font color="lightgreen" size="1">Query: Name of ship?
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.
.
Silverthorn.
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Query: Registered owner?
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.
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Nya Thyan.
.
.
.</font>

Thyan? No, this could not be. Never had she possessed a ship herself, never would she register a ship under that name. Too dangerous it was - she had had it once before, before this cursed fate had shown her a different truth. That name... had a past. A past she had been trying to run from. And run from for a good reason. Yet now who had resurrected that name?

"Repeat: Approaching vessel, please state your identity and purpose of visit to Rannon."

Rannon was by all standards a quiet, off-the-spacelanes planet. Surely here no one would recognise the name? Yet even if they did, she had no other choice now.

"This is the independent freighter Silverthorn, registered to Nya Thyan. I am here for business."

She reached out with her senses, found the mind who queried her. Curiosity filled it now, but also fear. And... relief at her reply? Before she could do anything to quench that curiosity, however, the voice came again.

"Yes, that will do. We've been waiting for you to arrive - it's time one of you Jedi arrived finally."

The reply stunned her. Jedi? He thought she was a Jedi? How had he known of her arrival? Who had told these people that she would arrive - that she would be a Jedi? What was going on? For a moment, she was confused. Was she somehow dreaming? Was her life not what she had thought it to be? Had she just now woken up to reality? As a Jedi?

No. That was not her.

Years of training took over. If they thought she had come to their aid, then she would let them think so until she knew more of the situation. "Yes, your message did not reach us until late. I came as fast as I can."

Adalric Brandl
Jun 29th, 2001, 12:48:47 PM
--had he possessed a face still, he would have worn a smile on it. He had trained her well - she was acting by instinct, acting out a role that had been put on her. Marvellous. Simply marvellous!

The plan was proceeding, and she was much better at filling her role than he had expected.

Come to think of it, he didn’t know if he was proud, or envious - or angry. She certainly was succeeding so far, exceeding the talents he had thought she possessed.

Doubt, and worry, troubled him now as he lived his narrow life at the back of her mind. Certainly he couldn’t have underestimated her?

Yet maybe this was simply a show of her temporary confidence - it would be much changed once she were to meet the Other One. Then, the tables would certainly turn for her - and him. Yes, they would--

Delirion
Jun 29th, 2001, 12:59:58 PM
By the time the ship touched down inside the assigned landing bay, she had prepared herself for the role she had to play to these simpletons. If they needed a Jedi to do their work for them, well, then they would get their Jedi - and much much more.

Yet it is this Darkness that troubles me - what is it? Who is it?

Doubt, and fear, alternated with the confidence that she had forced herself to feel. Her aching and bruised limbs had been treated with bacta-patches, and what few painkillers she could find on the ship; with the pain receding, her confidence had once more returned.

She had discarded her usual black garb - used to having to improvise, she had cut out new clothes out of the ship’s cargo; in the hold she had found a few crates filled with an odd assortment of cloth, food, tools… and an old HoloNet projector. The food had stilled her hunger, and out of the cloth she had cut and fashioned for herself simple garments.

Now she wore a brown skirt, shirt and tunic; and a dark green cloak hung from her shoulders. Her old lightsaber clipped to her right side completed the picture of a true Jedi, and it was thus that she walked forth to meet the natives of this planet.

A row of men stood lined up and at attention as she stepped from the landing ramp. They wore simple uniforms, and a laser rifle slung around the shoulder of each; their haggard, tired faces told her of their concern for the lives of their people. She looked at them, and smiled at them with as much benevolence as she could muster; inwardly, the smile turned into a gloat.

You are so able - you are so powerful with all those weapons; but how humble you are now that I am here. How humble you really are, with all your weaponry, compared to one who commands the Force - you shall all see soon!

For a moment, the inward sneer threatened to break through, but she controlled it before any of the men could see it. What exactly she intended to do once she had freed them from whatever monster they hadn’t been able to face, she had no clear idea of; yet somewhere at the back of her mind, possibilities began to spin their tales.

As she stepped forth to greet the leader of the men, she went through the possibilities in her mind.

"I am the Jedi Nya Thyan," - I could assume control over this planet - "why did you call for my assistance?"

I could assume control over planet and people, take over the Council and crown myself Queen...

The leader, a stout bearded man of average height, came to bow before her reverently, eyeing her lightsaber with nervousness. "Jedi, we are grateful for whatever assistance you could grant us. We have been reluctant--"

I could assume control of you all, and have you fulfill my every wish - and you would do it gladly... because I have power. And you are all nothing compared to the power I can hold...

"--to call the Jedi before, as Kerr used to be one himself. That is, before he went mad and corrupted. Now he's just a thieving, murdering bastard who takes our children from us."

I could take your life and make it my own, make you obey my every command; I could make you wish for your own death, and make your wishes come true. I could rule like a God on this planet - could judge over life and death of each of you as I wish, and you would welcome it...

Her eyes sparkled with excitement at the future, as she considered the possibilities - but if any of the men could see the danger contained in her look, their fear of the danger they knew blinded them to the danger they were ignorant of. She kept her voice suave, let her own confidence fill their own hearts, and filled their minds with thoughts of a possible victory as she spoke,

"Whatever this man is now, rest assured that I will deal with him as is his due; you and your children shall soon be safe again."

If the men thought it in any way odd that she would not ask them for more details about the enemy she would face, they didn't voice their surprise - to them, she was a Jedi, after all, and Jedi were rumoured to know more about these things than a mere ordinary man would. So they watched her walk into the direction where she sensed the odd contortion in the Force to be coming from, and took this as a sign that she knew indeed more than they would have been able to tell her. Some of their doubt and fear lifted at the sight of her confidence in victory.

Your children shall be safe, and you shall welcome me as your new leader, your new queen, your new God - for my word shall be law, and you shall obey...

If she thought at any time about what was to face her, and what she would do exactly, it didn't penetrate through the fog of blissful supremacy she now felt towards the entire human race; the moment her lungs had breathed in the first breath of air of this planet, it was as if she had been rendered blind to all but her own darkest desires. Nothing else seemed to matter anymore, and victory lay ahead, surely.

Whoever you are, I shall come and strip from thee the power that thou holdest now, and then I shall drive thee through the crowded street, and have thee publicly executed... and then I shall demand supreme power of this planet and all that there liveth upon it... for they shall know that I truly am the mightiest being, and they shall worship me... and if they will not, then I will make them worship...

Thus, she walked for a while, following the Darkness, not looking left nor right; intent on killing what she was slowly coming to think of as her "predecessor", she didn't plan to stop walking until she had reached him, so she could take what was hers. It wasn't too long before she reached the Valley of Tharnax, where the Darkness seemed to be strongest, and she walked deeper into the rotting valley, with nothing less than murder on her mind.

Danaan Kerr
Aug 10th, 2001, 04:57:25 PM
"There!"

Pointing out the windows cut in the stone-building towards the far distance the old man's jaw trembled with joy. The one he had been promised was here on the planet. The spies had informed him as such. Only now the Jedi was coming to him, he would not have to seek her out.

The Jedi was coming to him!

"Already this one knows it is the place of my apprentice that brings them here, that the future can be made real with my hands only! My precious Jedi - how you shall be taught the ways, the only ways that matter, to be purged of any flaws that you have learned without my guidance. To become a true giver of light like myself."

A tear formed under the man's eyes lost in the thoughts that the dream may finally come true, to be given one who would learn and not be a mindless ape as those that came before. Perhaps the one held now was meaningless.

Perhaps.

Aleck's body easily made a nice trial for the one that was coming to be his apprentice now - if nothing else. A way to test the abilities of the one promised to him.

Yes. Yes that would do. A living gauge to measure the strengths of his apprentice. How exciting the day would be.

Danaan Kerr's footsteps raced on the stone steps with his men following close, not too close behind him. Each realized how important this had become to their Master; by the times his voice had spoken of the day since they had first heard of such a Jedi that would arrive to be his servant. His apprentice.

They too were his pupils trained in basic fighting styles and arts, some of which were able to make use of the force. Danaan Keer had promised to teach them more when they developed to a new stage in their devotion and training; such was the Jedi way.

Secretly they wondered if this one would replace them as Danaan's obedient students, but such thoughts fled from their minds. Danaan could not do that to his children he had selected.

They were his chosen guard. His children. And he was father. He was mother. The Jedi who brought light and meaning to this world's pitiful lives.

Jeseth Cloak
Aug 11th, 2001, 03:24:54 AM
It had already been a day since his arrival upon the world of Rannon... a hard day. Jeseth had been forced to sweat his way through mountain pass with heavy magnetic storms. It had been impossible to fly through it, as he regretfully learned when he attempted to evade the plants scout patrols. off in the distance, smoke was rising from a forest which had been left engulfed in flames to hide wreckage of his ship, and the body of the bodies of the patrol who had dared get down for a closer look. The area would be off-limits (easily) for another two days until the smoke settled... That would be enough time for Jeseth to find - to find what?! He didn't even know why he had come here to begin with It was that call... that incessant, maddening call! Night after night, he awoke to screams, cries for help, and it had become too much. He had come here determined to find and put an end to whatever was forcing these thoughts into his head.

As he glanced up at the endless rows of trees, rocks, hills, and mountains. The trees ahead were dark, desolate, and ashen. There was still along way to go.

Delirion
Aug 11th, 2001, 02:40:02 PM
Night closed over her. Close-set trees, their branches dead and lacking foliage, intertwined, formed a thin canopy over-head that was reinforced by rotting vines and dead foliage and gods alone knew what else, until no more than a hint of sunlight was capable of seeping through. By the time she had gone a few hundred yards into the forest that marked the edge of the Valley, the road ahead of her was already lost in shadows, undistinguishable from the woods beyond. She glanced back the way she had come and saw no more than a carmine glow at the place where the road left the forest; the last vestige of sunlight, rapidly dying. But even that vision seemed to waver as though viewed through running water, or flawed glass. And though she could make out the road's starting point - barely - it was impossible for her to focus on it. She wondered if that part of the road would still be there if she wanted to leave it?

Lacking a torch, or any other means of light, she was pressed to draw her lightsaber, and ignite it, and follow its own low light-source as a beacon. The path she followed became less and less defined, a mere hint of direction as opposed to the well-worn road she had started out on. The light of the saber fanned out before her, illumniating the road ahead. And despite the fact that no threats were visible, she began to feel a prickling along the back of her neck. As if someone - or something - were watching. She glanced behind her as best as she could, saw only darkness. The feeling persisted. Not watching, exactly. Anticipating. Waiting.

The trail switchbacked several times, growing steeper and steeper as she went. She was near the center of the Valley, then. Perhaps even already there; it was impossible to gain any sense of her true position with the canopy overhead, and the endless exhausting miles behind her.
And then she came around a turn and it was there before her: a coarse edifice of dark and blackened stone, high enough to break through the canopy and lay bare the sky beyond it. The blackened stone bore witness to the attempts of the natives to expel the inhabitant of the dwelling, by force of fire, when nothing else had worked. And still, even fire had not been on their side. Ashes were strewn around, littering the ground at her feet as she stood there, taking in all that she could see.

No life seemed evident - the building and valley lay in utter silence, yet she could still feel the lingering of echoes around her. Life had been here, not long ago - and not simply one, but many. What was this? She had expected one opponent, not many - where had the others come from? Finally it came to her: what she felt now, those other presences beside the one dark and powerful - and strangely familar - one, those were the children and men the man had torn from their families, to train as he wished, to build his own army of Dark Siders.

--as bright as the cleansing spirit of this planet shall I be, and bring with me the hordes of Light, of Dark, to obliterate all that stands in my way, to hunt down those that will not be obedient. Yes, my loyal army shall I bring, shaped by my own will and skill and power, to strike fear into the hearts of my subjects, until they will have no heart left to withstand me--

Proudly, she stood in the center of the courtyard, and raised her voice against the building:

"Ruler of this Valley, I call you out - your time of mercy has passed. Come to meet your death at my hands!"

Jeseth Cloak
Aug 12th, 2001, 05:25:43 AM
There was much that he had not been made aware of by his Navigation computer. The wildlife in the forest was one of these things... There seemed to be nothing edible in the baron forest - at least, nothing that Jeseth could eat. Dead plants, strange berries, fast moving insects... none of these things seemed remotely safe or tasteful. It was with this in mind that he continued to push his way through the mountain pass, flying up into the air and snatching strange birds from their projected courses when possible. The tiny palm-sized things were about the only food he could find, and one had already managed to tear a deep gash into his right hand. They're nothing but bones... I need to find food.

Thunder struck over head, the storms raging on. Jeseth heard a strange clunking sounds echoing through the forest, coming through clearly despite the storm. He saw a flash of red traveling through the trees ahead of him... and there was a familiar feeling which felt human. Dashing ahead, he followed the bouncing streak of color, stopping behind a cluster of trees beside a gray dirt road. It was raining lightly... the dirt slowly melting to mud. A young girl was jumping up the path, a red hood and cloak worn loosely. She was carrying a brown basket... and then she stopped. "Who are you..?" She was gazing right at Jeseth, who had already made his way out into the middle of the dirt path, a quiet smile appearing on his features.

"I'm just a hungry traveler who's gotten lost."

"You can have some of this cheese... it's for my grandmother, but she won't miss a few slices." She set the basket down carefully and began to pick through it, searching for the cheese. Jeseth grinned and stepped closer.

"It's alright. I won't be needing that..."

"But... there's nothing around here to eat. You should take it." She offered him the cheese, her tiny hand holding it up for him. It was so fragile and meek...

"Oh, I never said I wasn't going to eat." She screamed out loudly as the winged man dashed for her, knocking her back and clamping his teeth down onto her neck. There was a struggle, the basket and cheese falling onto the floor, the contents of it spilling into the mud. The girl reached for a bottle and attempted to smash it over Jeseth's head, but his free hand locked around her wrist and held her in place. kicking and thrusting, she took her last short breath. Blood erupted as Jeseth tore her throat out from her neck, taking the flesh in gratefully. The red life giving liquid continued to drip down his chin, soaking into his black shirt and staining his hands. He took another few mouthfuls of the girl and dropped her corpse to the floor, her neck and face selectively eaten away. Wiping his hands and mouth onto her clothing, he ransacked the rest of her belongings. Most of the food in her basket was worthless... none of it would have been edible for him. Except perhaps the bottle. It's contents were good enough to quench his thirst. If he was going to be out for a long time, then it was probably best to save what little bit of water he had...