The Greater Becoming (all Black Hand members)

[Evil Hobgoblin]

Throughout the years, there have been many rumors regarding the power of Jedi Masters.

The Jedi Masters themselves tended to claim limits on their powers, and the fact that some Jedi Masters have been assassinated in Republic history tends to validate those claims. Even so, many stories have placed those beings as powerful, wise, and patient, possessing traits that made them universally adaptable to dealing with any situation. Still other stories placed them as gods, able to reach across galaxies and affect events from afar, especially if there were kindred Jedi involved.

The one truth of the matter was that only the Jedi Masters knew the limits that bound them.

But the stories and rumors persist, and in every fable there is some fact...

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There was a slight tapping sound that came from Hobgoblin's cane hitting the floor. The taps echoed through the hallways of Bast Castle, on the planet Vjun, with nothing to stop them. Bast itself was sparsely inhabited, with only the barest of essentials to keep its' residents alive and well. There were food supplies, of course, and an atmospheric generator that kept breathable air around the castle, but for the most part the castle was dark and silent, with not even a working system of lighting.

The tapping stopped. This was because the owner of the cane had halted in his travels and had started gazing off into space.

No, that wasn't quite right. Hob was definitely gazing at something, but his eyes and attention were focussed on a blank section of wall. Or inside it. Or behind it, or on the very microbes in the air in front of it.

Hobgoblin had been doing things of such a nature for a full month now. Since his final trial (http://www.swforums.net/forum/showthread.php?s=&threadid=13192) against Lilaena De'Ville, Hob had filled his time with increasing amounts of this activity- even going down to the basement of the castle and staring around the room where the old power generators had been kept.

Many who came to Bast died horrible deaths, and perhaps it was with those forsaken souls that Hob had business with.

One could not know unless they asked him, which so far no one had done. Conversely, Hob was now an unquestioned member of the Black Hand. Such a person was not easy to talk to.

Hob's glazed look disappeared. He waved his hand slightly in a back and forth motion, then shrugged and continued on.

His travel path had him do this two or three more times along the same hallway, but upon the conclusion of his last silent consideration of things, he immediately turned and set out for the Gathering Chamber with determined pace. The cane barely seemed to hit the floor as Hob walked, and by the time he had reached his destination he was not using it at all, but swinging it briskly in one of his massive hands.

The doors to the Gathering Chamber parted at Hob's approach. He entered.

The Gathering Chamber was Hob's name for the Black Hand's main meeting hall. It was in this dimlit and shadowed room that the Hand discussed important tidings that involved multiple members. The room itself was wide and circular, with several other smaller exits on the sides and the rear. There were also a collection of grand chairs scattered throughout the hall at even intervals, making the Hand a more or less equal partnership.

Hob went directly towards the back of the hall, where the older member's seats were, and where his seat was. His new seat, that is.

Where his old one had gone was a mystery, but an unimportant one. The seat that was there now was larger than the rest, but only slightly. It was also decorated differently: where the old seats were distinctly technological in design, this one seemed grown out of the rock that littered Vjun's surface. It was decorated with carvings and all in all, it gave the impression of something grown far beyond what it was composed of.

It also perfectly fit Hob's stature when he sat in it, right down to the handrests and the holder for his cane. Once he was comfortably settled, he shut his eyes and concentrated.

Outside the Gathering Chamber, the hallway lights flickered to life, shedding bright and harsh light over all of Vjun's occupants. When those occupants followed the lit hallways to find their source as they undoubtedly would, they would be led directly to the Gathering Chamber.

It was, in all respects, an impressive summons to the rest of Hob's brethren.

[Taylor Millard]

The Imperial Missile Boat came out of hyperspace over the planet VJun. Two seconds later, a lone TIE Advanced came out as well.

"Prepare for descent," Taylor Millard spoke, as he began piloting towards the planet surface, "You will remain on the planet while I meet with Master Hobgoblin."

"Yes Master."

He left Quellin to attend to the ships, walking down the black marble walkway towards where the Dark Jedi Master stood. Millard had met Hobgoblin twice. Once when he joined the organization, the other, when he created his new name.

He walked down the halls, his cold blue eyes taking in all that surrounded him. It was then he noticed something odd.

The lights...they're on?

Puzzled, but not deterred by this, the Dark Jedi continued his trek through the castle. Quellin would be in the observation deck watching the members as they talked. Turning the corner and opening the large black door before him, Millard entered where the diminutive Hobgoblin was.

His tall frame towered over the drawf, "I received your message, Master Hobgoblin. Why have you called us here?"

[Evil Hobgoblin]

The grand lighting of the Gathering Chamber cast a long, dark shadow from Taylor Millard's frame.

Hob was unfazed by Millard's imposing presence- the message requesting Millard's attendance had been sent a week ago. "Ever punctual, you are Master Millard," he said. One of his hands gestured to the door Taylor had entered through. "There will be others. When they have all arrived, is when we begin."

[Taylor Millard]

"Very well, I shall wait here then," Millard walked over to one of the chairs in the Gathering Chamber, taking a seat.

Hobgoblin had changed over the last few weeks. He had gone from being the trickster to someone a bit more serious. He had a direction and purpose. And Millard was interested in seeing what that purpose would being The Black Hand.

[Jeseth Cloak]

Jeseth wandered through Bast Castle, making his way through the twisting corridors, approaching the room that had been named the hall of sorrow. Hob had requested his presence, and though he would have rather remained hidden away inside of his chambers, he came. He was looking weaker now than anyone in the room had seen him before, though it would be still a month or two before he lost complete touch with the Force. Perhaps by then Slayn would come and fullfil his purpose. If not, then Jeseth would merely wither away and die, cell by cell.

"I have come, as you requested." Jeseth bowed to the others and seated himself, keeping an eloquent composure despite everything. He would listen to what Hob had to say.

[Lilaena De'Ville]

De'Ville walked into the room, a slight sheen of sweat on her forehead. Behind her trailed her tall apprentice, himself a member of the Hand. They seemed to have come from a training spar, roused by the sudden lights in the passageways.

"What is going on, Hobgoblin?" She took her seat, Shaed sitting to her right. "We have not been together like this for some time." De'Ville nodded once to Cloak, whom she had not seen in many months, and then returned her attention to Hob, her face bearing a trace of a smile.

[Kar'h'tzen Shaed]

Shaed remained silent, the thick dark lenses of his goggles covering his sensitive eyes.

Yet another first for the young apprentice. He had not even seen some of the people gathered here before, though... he had sensed them all at various times in the past. Familiarly distant.

Kar't'zhen gazed at the one who had summoned the Dark Jedi of Vjun together. Slight of stature, to put it mildly, but brimming with invisible strength. The being had fairly recently been accepted as a full member of the Black Hand. It was proof enough of the strength the one they called Hob had.

Hob... intrigued... Shaed. From what the apprentice had ascertained, the Dark Jedi was even more reclusive and shadowed than he was.

[Milivikal k'Vik]

Milivikal strode in with practiced grace, the gold highlights on her black oriental-style dress setting off her pale blue eyes. The bruises and cuts she had recived from her encounter with the Mal Pannis clan had healed, leaving her skin again smooth and nearly flawless.

Of those gathered, she knew only Hob and Cloak. Her gaze met Taylor's for one moment. He ebbed a sense of mission, of purpose, and it was not of survival.

The feeling was slightly foreign.

De'Ville, too, was focused, but it was without the same sense of purpose. Both Hob and Taylor seemed completely driven by something. Mili flicked her gaze between the two, Millard and Hobgoblin for a moment, before settling somewhere distant in the darkness.

Kar't'zhen was rather strange, with the goggles. Small thing compared to whatever those two were up to.

She sat across from De'Ville, in something that looked vaugley comfortable and in some semblance of shape.

[imported_Taja Loraan]

Though she had only encountered him once, Taja deeply respected Hobgoblin. He saw what no other did, and understood that which only she could decipher. Perhaps for this reason his summons was made known to her by means other than the uncustomary lighting. She had been in her chambers, conversing with the ethereal residents of the Bast, when she heard his silent convoke.

Now, waking from her meditative trance, Taja followed the beacons to the halls where her brethren were gathered. Upon entering, she bowed to all those present - all of whom she had met briefly at some stage or another, save the two women and one who was presumably the latter's Apprentice. To them she nodded again before taking her seat.

[Zasz Grimm]

Zasz had been in a rather silent part of Bast when the lights had slowly dimmed on, though most places throughout the ebony cast monument were silent, save for the former inhabitants that seem to want to stay. He had felt the request as he was in the information area. It was interesting that the former Dark Lord had been here...training on this barren planet.

The Dark Knight seemed to come out of it as he was nearing the assembly area. As he was stepping in he saw Hobgoblin. He had met him once before, though it wasn't on the greatest of all terms. His eyes fell to his former master, it was obvious now. His present decay had been hidden deep inside him before, and it was only now that Zasz had gotten to see it first hand, for Jeseth never spoke of it before.

His bright red hair seemed to keep his crimson eyes concealed until he turned to look at De'Ville. Their present situation was rather odd, and he also saw her apprentice. He knew him right off the bat, the goggles gave him away. The others he had no idea who they were, but they were a member of what seemed to be the small band.

Keeping deathly silent as he took his seat, he eyed those that he didn't know. Curiosity had intrigued him, but he would find out more about them later, his head turned to Hobgoblin, and also towards his former Master.

[Jeseth Cloak]

Jeseth nodded to Zasz and stood from his seat, offering Taja a hand up as she bowed. "It's a pleasure to meet you once again, Loraan." He waited for her to take his hand, if she would do so, offering her a seat beside him.

[imported_Taja Loraan]

Taja tentatively placed her hand in his. It was warm, too warm; rising to her feet, she abruptly drew away from Cloak. The cold tendrils had not fully reformed, and she was still exposed, her skin still easily burned.

She smiled thinly. "Likewise."

He had changed much in his demeanor since last they conversed, but now was not the time for reminiscences. Settling beside Cloak, she fixed her gaze on Hob.

[Evil Hobgoblin]

A storm had gathered outside Bast while the Dark Jedi arrived- indeed, it had gone unnoticed by everyone until the point when it coalesced into being.

With a crashing crack, the lightning began.

It was only minutes before the lightning strikes were loud enough to be noticed by the Dark Jedi sitting in the heart of Bast Castle, and with that notice came the realization that this lightning was not ordinary. It came too loud, too strong, and too fast.

Finally, a bolt dared to leap from the skies and strike Bast. Once, twice, three times more it occurred, and each time Lord Vader's castle simply stood there and took it.

It was the tenth strike that was the loudest, and strongest. For a full fifteen seconds, electricity poured from on high into a pole at the very top of Bast's tallest tower. The inside lights flickered, but held steady.

In the castle's subbasement, the long unused power generators were hit with an electric shock that came seemingly from a nearby wall. Lights began to blink, and the generators emitted an active hum.

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A particularly loud crack drew the attention of the Dark Jedi from their quiet discourse and greeting. There was a moment of silence as each of them realized for themselves what had happened.

It was in this silence that Hob stirred. "Indeed we have not, Lilaena De'Ville," the dwarf said finally. "And in that, we have failed."

Hob stood from his chair, taking his cane with him and pacing around the center of the assembled. "When was the last time we have acted in concert?" he asked of them. "When was the last time the Dark Jedi demonstrated that which makes them greater then either Jedi or Sith? Has there even been such a time?"

Hob's cane struck the floor, adding emphasis to his question. "I will answer for you: no, there has not," Hob stated coldly. "One time- one time ever- has the Black Hand proven its' worth. In a fight for our very existence, long ago, against the Sith who sought in their anger and arrogance to destroy us when we were but foundling children, seeking the truth of the universe."

"We proved our right to exist then: Rane, Delirion, Trace, Shimi, Anbira, Dalethria, Ogre, Sorsha, Cloak, and old Hob."

A snort of disgust came from Hobgoblin's bowed frame. "Of those many who called themselves allies of the Black Hand at that critical time, only two remain. Rane is disappeared, Delirion and Shimi gone, Anbira turned, Trace concerned with his own affairs, and the rest secluded away."

There was a moment of silence, Hob's way of honoring the passing of something great. Then he turned to Jeseth and inclined his head respectfully.

"Brother Cloak," Hob said. "Even in your weakened state, I honor you for participating in the Founding. I honor you- and I curse you for your weakness that allowed it to slip away!"

The hood of Hob's robe fell backwards and his face was a twisted mask of anger. His eyes blazed at Jeseth, then turned to Lilaena and Taja. "And the weakness is yours," he spat out. "Where have been, Loraan? What have you done, De'Ville, in the name of the Hand? Where are the pillars of strength we require? Where were you???"

Abruptly, Hob turned away from them and walked, bent over, back to his chair, bowed beneath the weight of his own burdens.

"Where was Hob?" the dwarf asked aloud, settling back down. "What did Hob do that was for the Hand, and not for himself? Indeed, Hob has done much learning and grown in power- but it cost the Hand action. That which was the grandest of efforts has faded. The Hand's glory has tarnished, and my brothers and sisters- it is all of our faults."

[Taylor Millard]

Millard listened to Hobgoblin's diatride. The Dark Dwarf wanted something, he had a purpose...a cause. And he wanted Black Hand to have one as well.

He wanted to speak, but did not. Tonight was a night for listening and observing to what Master Hobgoblin had to say.

Millard kept his back straight, and brought his hands together. And watched.

[Lilaena De'Ville]

De'Ville allowed only one eyebrow to show her emotion, raising it higher than its twin. Of all those there she had had the most formal training in the Force. Jeseth might be her equal, even her better in some areas of the Force and knowledge of it, but only she held the title of Master among them. And from the looks of Cloak, he was in no shape to be doing anything.

Life clung to him by the frailest of threads. De'Ville tore her gaze from the winged being, and looked at her sisters. Neither had she had any dealings with. To my shame.

Although she had been busy, what with tracking down a cure for the poison in her system (to no avail) and with the side trip with Saurron and his evil brood of vampyres. Of course, the cure she had recieved at the hands of the Jedi was less than mentionable. And her quest for the soul of her husband was equally private.

De'Ville shifted her feet, turned and looked back at Hob, bowed down in his chair at the head of the table. She noted his placement, but begrudged it not. "I have been working for the good of the Hand, bringing in new members for out betterment. But I agree, we must act as one, or out existance is futile."

[Kar'h'tzen Shaed]

Shaed was ever De'Ville's shadow since he had arrived at Vjun. Her past he knew nothing of, and cared less about - as long as it did not influence his future adversely.

He was her shadow in several other ways, as well. If she had had more strength in the mind powers of the Force, she would likely have noticed him, always hovering around at the edge of her consciousness, attuned to her reactions and her emotions. But not her thoughts... no, that wouldn't be reasonable or safe. But he was usually watching.

And here, at this meeting... he was little more than the absence of light cast by De'Ville's form on her chair from the newly-lit lights all around.

But he heard what Hob said, felt De'Ville's rather slight anger at being labelled useless and her resolve and strength as well when she spoke.

He agreed with Hob, himself. Finally, it seemed as if the man was going to call them on their own words and pledges, and have them actually force a little of their own brand of order on the galaxy like they were always thinking about.

Kar't'zhen smiled, fists clenched as ever. This week was shaping up to be a good one, indeed.

[imported_Taja Loraan]

Hiding was an art Taja had mastered over the years, though somewhat involuntarily, and it was one she employed at present. The apathy that once controlled her and that she fought so long to dissolve now served to sustain her near perfect mask of indifference.

Perhaps that was best; the few words Hob addressed to her incited from within an old ignominy, one she had harbored during the entirety of her time under the tutelage of Dalethria. This self-disgrace had only augmented with Taja's recent transition, and there was so much even her Master was unaware of. If she was to be liberated from the demons that haunted her, she would need to divulge those grievances - later.

She glanced at the one the Dark Dwarf had referred to as De'Ville. It was strange how the outer coils of her mind were relatively unguarded, and it was this farthest shell that betrayed her humiliation. Her words, however, were resolute.

Everything Hob spoke of contained some truth. She was christened a Dark Jedi, only to seek refuge in the comforts of seclusion. Taja responded with silence: she had indeed done nothing.

[Jeseth Cloak]

Jeseth said nothing, maintaining silence. He could not argue Hob's point. It had been years since they last stood together, but so many in the hand had agendas of their own. Jeseth himself had spent the better part of a decade seeking out some kind of cure to his ailment, and maintaining still some sort of activity within the Imperial Senate.

[Zasz Grimm]

Keeping silent, Zasz watched on as Hobgoblin spoke in what seemed, a scolding manner to everyone there. He hadn't been around TBH that long, but he had been around Jeseth. He had been pre-occupied with his disease, and the other things that he kept silent for some time..

Leaning back in the chair, he looked to all those that Hobgoblin was talking to, but then looked down. It also pertained to him, no matter how he put it. Even at the current moment, he should be carrying out things in the name of The Black Hand.

His crimson eyes fell upon the green dark sider, as he continued to listen to what he said, and what the others were saying.

[Evil Hobgoblin]

There was complete silence following De'Ville's comment. It was not a silence brought on by her remarks, nor was it a silence that originated in Hob's earlier bristling anger. It was a silence of contemplation, and it was a silence Hob had hoped for. Each of the members of the Hand present in the chamber was thinking on the truth of what Hob had said, and simultaneously giving serious thought to how the many goals the group had set for themselves were gone with the moment.

"Bringing in new members to what, De'Ville?" Hob continued when he sensed the timing right for it. "A broken castle? A weak and ineffective order? No, my sister; there is nothing to bring new members in to."

"The Black Hand has died a contemptuous death, burnt to ashes in the flames of our individual dreams."

Hob bent his head in a kind of recognition of the loss, and the hood of his robe fell back down, concealing his features once more.

"Perhaps," he said after some thought. "The Hand requires a reminder of why it came into being. Why we call ourselves Dark Jedi, and not Jedi or Sith."

The hood of the robe swiveled among the assembled, searching. "Does anyone here know, or still remember, who it is we are?"

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Inside the basement of the castle, the unused fusion generators suddenly blinked on. They began to surge with energy that pumped itself through cables and connectors to the rest of the castle. Long dormant computer terminals activated from their standby modes. Droids from the outer layers separated from their power nodes and began resuming their tasks, some set to clean and organize rooms, others to repair damage to the castle. Sensors that had once scanned for intruders did so again. Defensive shields that held the castle walls together against decay reactivated. And the lightning continued to crash down on Bast, sending surges of power into the awakened monster.

But in the Hall of Sorrows where the Dark Jedi had assembled, there was only quiet that awaited an answer to Hob's question.

[Taylor Millard]

"The Black Hand," Millard spoke, "A group of Dark Jedi here to provide balance between the Sith and the Jedi. We work subtly instead of out in the open, as the other groups do.

"We consider ourselves enemies of both, yet we can work with them at the same time. Most of our members either belonged to one group or the other at one time. You, Master Hobgoblin, are the only who was neither a member of any group.

"But," he continued, "Even though we are a group, we are also a group of individuals. We go about our own separate jobs- we have a Senator, a Sith Master, several young apprentices and knights, an Imperial, and a few Dark Jedi. We do our own...thing until one comes under attack. Then we come together."

[imported_Taja Loraan]

"Perhaps that is where we have failed. We are united in our goals, yet the methods in which these are attained differ in every individual. As you say, Admiral... the only instances where we disregard that which divides us is when it is absolutely necessary. There is a lack of motivation to act as one, to cast the first stone without breaching the subtlety of our ways."

[Zasz Grimm]

"So maybe it is time that we attain that motivation, and act as one."

Crimson eyes peered upwards from dark red hair as he stared out to Taja Loraan, Millard, and the others. He had broken his own silence in front of the main members of The Hand. And no doubt, not exactly his place, but he felt that his voice should be heard. His gaze fell upon Hob, the Dark Dwarf.

"We are not ruled by a rush of emotions, that is what the Sith are the keepers of. And neither are we flushed with the notion of peace. But order, and perhaps now unity is needed for that order."

Zasz felt that he was understanding what Hobgoblin was getting at. Every other group moved as a unit, and The Hand just basically sat on their thumbs, calling themselves a group, yet doing nothing for the group, as a whole....

[Kar'h'tzen Shaed]

Shaed had seen many forms of life during his travels, back in the days of being an assassin... one of them was the Rathanan.

The Rathanan was not a single entity, it was a colony of insect-like animals, named "Ratha". There was no Queen or recognizable leader or directory of efforts in an underground Rathanan cluster, each tiny mammal simply went about it's own business. Foraging. Hunting. Procreating. With their simple sentience, occassionally they would group together in twos and threes to kill larger enemies, or to find sweeter, more difficult to obtain, nectars for their young. They were wholly uninteresting.

Except that, if you killed a single Ratha, the entire colony would recognize the death scent on you. And the entire colony would drop everything, band together, and kill you unless you could destroy them all first. It was the only thing they worked at together. And quite interesting to watch, if you could capture a Ratha and cause someone on your hitlist to kill it by accident near the colony entryways.

The moral of the story was that the Black Hand had done little else than be a Rathanan, in Shaed's eyes. A little action here, some training there, a strike for something a little sweeter elsewhere... but nothing to prove their own worth as a whole, not even when they HAD worked as a whole. Which Shaed had only heard about.

Kar'h'tzen exhaled with a soft, agreeing sort of noise, interrupting his carefully honed noiseless breathing. He did not wish to speak, others were better at that than he - not to mention that they WANTED to talk, as most sentient creatures do.

He answered the Hobgoblin's latest query in a vacant, unguarded section of his mind. It was doubtful anyone would notice it, but if they wanted more than a wordless noise of assention, then this was it.

I know what we are. We are the Black Hand. We call ourselves Dark Jedi. We are to create order out of the mindless chaos the Sith have caused, and out of the deluded confusion and inneffectuallity the Jedi exude. We are few. We are distracted with lesser matters. But... we will harden. We will succeed. We are the invisible virus that will consume and remake our own host. We are to wield strength and knowledge, and the Force is our weapon as it is our tool.

His right fist clenched even tighter as his eyes imperceptably narrowed. The one called Millard was partially incorrect, though he was not to be blamed for not knowing everything about the lowliest and newest acceptee into the Hand. Shaed had never rallied behind any banner but his own before he had come to the Black Hand's castle on Vjun - trained by a self-exiled Sith Master or not. Instructed and then orphaned by the Jedi, friendless, bounty hunter and assassin, Force adept, parents who had not even been of the same race but presumably had joined each other at last in death - Shaed had been several things in his short life. He had worked hard at being clever and silent in a universe that destroyed those who knew too much or were too loud.

[Evil Hobgoblin]

The storm began to rumble and shift. It was now in a kind of holding pattern where once it had been aggressively releasing energy. Lesser bolts continued to strike the building, but they caused no real change in either the power flow or the activities of the activated computers within.

In fact, the changes had ceased to occur on such a small level.

On the surface of the Vjun system's sun, dark red spots gathered. The largest of these was on a single point that continued to face Vjun itself despite the planetary rotation. In and around Bast, the winds and dead souls were drawn in spiralling patterns that centered on the Hall of Sorrows. In the soil beneath the castle, more energy gathered itself, funneling upward but stopping at the bottom sub-basement's floor.

What all these things were preparation for remained unclear.

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Hob's words had brought a debate of sorts among the Dark Jedi. They probed, they questioned, they reasoned for themselves what had caused the Black Hand to wither away, lost in weakness.

After a time, the debate settled down to a final point, and then silence. Almost unconsciously, the members of the Hand looked to Hob, as though seeking confirmation that their musings were in fact the core truth which the Dark Dwarf had sought in asking his question.

Except for Jeseth, but Jeseth was another story.

"I told you I would show the galaxy my truth, De'Ville, did I not?" Hob said finally. "It is good that I realized the necessity of starting close to home."

Hob turned to address the stone-faced Admiral within their midst. "Master Millard, you said that we provide a balance between Sith and Jedi. It is a shame you gloss over such an important point."

"What if I were to tell you that we do not merely provide such a balance? What if we are that balance?"

Hob's head turned upward and he began to stare at the ceiling as though seeing something beyond it. "Adaptability. Both Jedi and Sith are mired in their extremes, unable to break their own characteristics except in certain cases. They concentrate on their strengths, working to improve themselves in those limited areas to their fullest. This makes them powerful, certainly."

"But we," Hob said, lifting a hand theatrically. "We are not so limited. We can pick and choose from the abilities those sects display, adding the best to our mix. We are patient and understanding as are the Jedi, yet we are able to wreak great distruction as can the Sith. We are their parts in a greater whole- we are more complete than they can ever be."

"It is this that makes each Dark Jedi unique, but in our uniqueness, we have forgotten what it means to be joined together. Our individual searches and goals are symptoms of this greater cause- we seek for ourselves that which can make us greater singly and neglect the deficiencies of our brethren."

"Do you not see?" Hob said suddenly, leaping from his chair with an animated face. The open hand closed into a fist, as though capturing this gem of truth before it could escape. "This Force that the Jedi view as a means of knowledge and the Sith, a vessel of power, is so much more. It is unmolded clay, ready to be shaped into a thing of great beauty. Its' possibilities should not be endlessly debated on, nor should its' physicality be shattered into nothingness! That we are connected to it gives us the chance to shape destiny itself!"

Hob's keen eyes peered at each member of the Hand in turn. All so different, but great in their own right. They must not be allowed to lose that greatness in their individualities.

"Together, we are as Gods among mortals," Hob proclaimed finally. "And to deny that is to deny us the fullest extent of our power!"

[Kar'h'tzen Shaed]

Shaed stared dispassionately at Hob's eyes as the man made his speech. More than just words, he was giving quite plain truths to the group.

There was a disturbance in the Force.

Or, to put it another way, the Force was being disturbed in the most unusual way that Shaed had ever witnessed. He did not bother to try pinning it down and understanding it, he just watched.

Watched Hob's eyes.

[Jibrielle Abunai]

The girl was sitting on her bed in the barren room, clutching her knees to her chest as she rocked back and forth. She had finished her first training session with Hobgoblin but hadn't bothered to dry herself off. She wanted to remember, no - to keep, the feelings she had experienced in the fountain. Besides, the air had pratically dried the child off except for her hair. Letting go of her knees, Jibrielle reached up and began to wring out her wet hair. She could feel the water trickle down her back, sending a chill down her spine.

Then, the castle seemed to roar alive. She could see the light from under the crack of her door and wondered what had happened to the accustomed darkness. Sliding off of her bed, she cautiously walked across the floor and wrapped her fingers around the knob. After she pulled the door open, she stepped outside and glanced at the lit torches. They were all leading to one direction, the flames inviting her to follow. Leaving her door open, the child began to follow to where ever they led.

Jibrielle heard Hobgoblin's voice before she saw him, hearing the criticize and then the shouts. She stopped by the doorway of the Hall of Sorrows and looked inside curiously. All the Black Hand members were gathered around, sitting comfortably as they listened to her Sire. A faint smile grew on her lips as she continued to listen, but she didn't dare to enter.

[Lilaena De'Ville]

De'Ville fell into silence, and felt the power surging through the run-down castle beneath her feet. She had always been able to sense electricity and manipulate machinery, although she had not had cause to as of late. Live Wire had honed her abilities in the area of electrical power, and De'Ville had learned all she could from her former master.

After she could learn no more, she had gone onto a greater master, the Sith Jedah Lynch. He had raised her to her current ranking, although in the Hand, no one much cared that she was a Sith Master. But Hob seemed to respect her, although his words bothered her.

The Hand is not dead, she wished to say. It is going the way of the Sith Order, however, on its way to death. It can be saved still. But she said nothing, and saw a slip of a girl stand in the doorway. Jibrelle, her mind told her.

De'Ville made a small beckoning motion, and the apprentice felt a tug on her sleeve, encouraging her into the room. There was an empty seat beside De'Ville, since Shaed refused to be seated, and was lurking behind her chair.

Lilaena finally spoke to Hob. "The Hand has never worked together, for as long as I have been a member. But if something could be done, I will do it. You have my support, Hobgoblin."

[Taylor Millard]

"You have mine as well Master Hobgoblin," Millard echoed, "I know we do not use ships here, but if the Empire's resources can be used for ships for all of us, I will have them designed and ready within a month.

"The Black Hand can indeed be a force in the galaxy to be reckoned with. With the Imperial split, I will do what I can to help. My protege, General Tomar, can handle Balmorra Sector quite well were I to be called away for TBH business.

"What else do you recommend Master Hobgoblin?"

[Jibrielle Abunai]

As she continued to listen, she saw Lilaena look over in her direction. Her heart skipped a beat until she saw the beckoning motion. As if to assure her mind, Jibrielle could feel her sleeve being pulled slightly. She casted her gaze to the floor and began to walk towards the chair. Her bare feet making no sound, she finally sat down.

[Evil Hobgoblin]

"What else do I recommend?" Hob repeated, making it very obvious by his tone that he had something in mind.

He did not say it right away, though. Instead, he paced about as though in thought, giving his brothers and sisters time to wonder what he would suggest.

"It is simple," Hob said eventually, when he again gauged the moment right. "If we are Gods, then we must act like Gods."

"We must take control."

"We are better than the Jedi and Sith, are we not? Our understanding of the nature of things is far more complete. Who would be better suited to teaching the galaxy the errors of their very natures than we?"

"We must bring the best of the lesser beings to us. They will be as children to us- wild sheep being gathered under the watchful eye of a shepherd. They will serve us and pray to us and believe in us, and we will repay them with purpose and protection."

"We will be their Gods, and they, our chosen peoples."

Hob's eyes then burned with whiteness. It was far from blindness- if anything, Hob could see what others could not. This was the fire of pure power, made visible through Hob's dispelling of his own restraints.

Through these eyes, Hob began to look at each member in turn, as he had done before during this meeting. But now, Hob did not merely see the shape of their bodies. He saw instead the very characteristics that formed their cores and dictated their personalities- the characteristics that, if they accepted such a charge, would shape a galaxy.

Jeseth with his knowledge and ability to manipulate.

Millard with his iron will and discipline.

De'Ville with her ready adaptability and strength.

Milivikal with her dual appreciation for art and control.

Taja with her intimate knowledge of things cold.

Shaed with his keen intellect.

Grimm with his implacability and fervor.

And of course, there was himself. Hobbitus Beldinus, Hobgoblin, Trickster, Dark Dwarf, Puppetmaster, Blinding Sight- all these described him and more. The one the galaxy knew as Hob- a simple name for a creature complex beyond the abilities of description.

Hob with his ability to intuit and shape potential.

Hob, who could see what others could not.

The burning white orbs of power surveyed a Black Hand whose power had fallen by the wayside, a Black Hand that could become grander than the strongest delusions, if they accepted it.

"Now is the time of choosing, my brothers and sisters," Hob said. He stood in the middle of all of them, perfectly centered and ready to anchor them together. "What I have proposed is a great task. It will require courage and patience, and should not be undertaken lightly. You may chose, as always, to remain what you are, doing what you would; assisting only as you desire, no more and no less. But the rewards to this path will be greater than you can possibly imagine."

The aura in Hob's eyes slowly infused the rest of his body, until all of his flesh shone with that burning radiance, glowing brightly enough to make his skin seem perfectly smooth, coming from a robe so black it had to be liquid shadow. Still, his eyes continued to outshine the rest of his body, bright on bright.

Hob slowly lifted his right arm. The lightning-shaped scar on the back of it shone with his eyes as a mark of power. Hob gently turned it over, revealing another mark shaped like an eclipse, this one swimming blackly. When he had finished the slow motion, the hand lay open, waiting for others to join it. Opening his mouth, Hob extended his final invitation.

"Join me," he said. "Together we will shape a universe."

[Lilaena De'Ville]

De'Ville almost flinched as the hobgoblin held out his hand towards the group. Almost. Before she could stop her hasty mouth, she queried, "Indeed, brother, such a task was undertaken once, by a Dark Jedi. Clone though he was, his 'sheep' were sheared by another. The Jedi watch for these sorts of things."

She cleared her throat, "I am not afraid of the Jedi, and the plan has merit. But we must succeed where others have failed. It will take work. Let no one decieve themselves in this."

De'Ville lay her hand open as well, in a movement of acceptance and agreement. "My apprentice and I will join the Dark Dwarf in this undertaking, to serve the Hand as best befits out abilities."

[Kar'h'tzen Shaed]

Shaed did not take his eyes off of Hob. The eyes. Not even to look at his own Master as she spoke for them both - for they were single-minded in very many ways, these days.

Hob's eyes grew, Hob's eyes diminished. They were forever changing, and they were eternally unchangeable.

Kar'h'tzen's left hand opened slowly. Palm facing the vaulted ceiling.

There was a tattoo of some sort covering the flesh of that hand, unconcealed by glove and - for once - laid bare by his fingers as well.

Closer examination would reveal it to be Sith scribing.

He'd done it himself, but though it was a tattoo it was a tattoo that had been overlaid upon livid, intricate scars when he'd done it. On that black planet. So long ago, it seemed now.

It read "That which you seek is lost, the past is broken but never forgotten. The universe is snuffed, pain begets pain begets pain". It covered his hand like air.

Yes, he was with Hob. With the Hand. Body and soul. And mind.

[Taylor Millard]

Millard walked from his seat towards the duo of De'Ville and Hobgoblin.

He pulled back the black arm of his jumpsuit, reavealing the tattoo behind it. He'd gotten it while he was a member of the Secret Order of the Emperor when he was very young.

Now...now he felt the power behind it.

"Master Hobgoblin, Mistress De'Ville," he said as he put his hand next to them, "I stand with you in agreement.

"The Black Hand will rise again. And I will defend it as I do the Empire I serve!"

He turned to the others remaining, and gazed at his apprentice in the dias.

"Well? Do you stand with us?!?"

[Zasz Grimm]

Zasz looked to the others that remained seated. Hobgoblin had caught Zasz's interest in his speech. It was as if he felt a new way, a new guide in his life. The Black Hand was a new life that presented itself to him. A life of total and pure dedication. An unaltering course.

He rose from his seat and approached Hobgoblin, Millard, and De'ville. As he neared the group he moved his hand outwards from the side of his body and opened the palm and then clenched his hand into a fist. He gave his allegiance to The Hand in that moment as he stared at them all...

"I stand with you, My brothers and sisters."

[Jibrielle Abunai]

"I will always stand firm in my place, dedicating my life to the Black Hand and Hobgoblin."

Slowly, she extended her arm and uncurled her fingers, revealing her palm. There were no scars or tattoos to be seen, unlike the others, for her scars were seen on the face. They were intricate designs that she was born with. She hadn't made any attempt to hide them, for she was with her own kin. Her brothers and sisters.

The Black Hand.

[Milivikal k'Vik]

Milivikal pursed her lips together thoughtfully.

"I can do this, but I will not be anyone's dancer bitch on call. I will work, but I do it with my methods, and my rythm. If this is satisfactory..." Her eyes flitted to each member committed. They had no illusions of who they were , what they were doing. And it seemed that there was an agreement.

"...I too will stand with the Hand." Milivikal k'Vik extended her arm with an artist's grace.

[imported_Taja Loraan]

Gods. That was the term Hob had chosen to describe the Dark Jedi. The saviors of the universe, the messiahs of order; the ones who would revive the dying hopes of the masses and free them from corruption. Gods: unswerving, unfailing, unyielding. Gods, upon whom the blinded would bestow their faith.

Faith, in oneself and in a purpose. A faith that allowed one to ascend to this state of divinity, to stand committed, strong.

Taja was no god.

Her years had been exhausted in silent observation, studying the cultures and ways of different peoples. Pledging to devote her very life to revealing her truths to the Sith and Jedi hypocrites, but never once practicising that which she preached.

All that would change.

Following the example set by her siblings, she wordlessly outstretched her arm in submittal.

[Evil Hobgoblin]

Each of them had stood, and each raised their hands to follow his lead. It was a grand collection.

Except for Jeseth, who, perhaps, was too weak to stand. But Hob knew Jeseth's mind better than any of the other members, and this was in line with his desires as well.

"So have you each decided to accept this charge," he intoned. "And so shall you suffer the pangs and sorrows that come with such a monumental labor."

"But there are rewards, as I have mentioned," Hob continued, adding a touch of conspiratory comraderie to his voice. "And the first of these, I shall grant unto you now."

With the power Hob had gathered around him, Hob pulled. He pulled the Force from as far away as he could reach, pulled until he could pull no more. Sharpened and focussed through a Bast Castle that Hob had slowly modified over the last month, his reach extended out to other sectors, drawing it in. In the Force, Vjun solar had become a vibrating battery.

It's sun pulsed deeply with that energy, for it was Hob's drawing conduit and the only thing in the system that could hold the kind of power Hob was dealing with. Hob fed it and fed it, and the red dot on its' surface slowly grew, until it had grown large enough and the time was ripe.

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Vjun spun.

It's spin had not changed as a result of the whirling maelstrom of power in the system. It moved as it had, spinning, spinning. Though it might have seemed like days to the Dark Jedi in Bast's Hall of Sorrows, it was merely a few hours.

Then, the castle had spun to the edge of the horizon. Its' alignment with the dot on the sun's surface was perfect- an arrow shot through the latter would inevitably hit the former if it followed the direction the Force was flowing. In that perfect moment, time stood still.

And the solar system changed.

The Force energy inside Vjun's sun gathered and Hob twisted it. His motions and currents had the subtlety of a true Master, and reflected the thoroughness and planning he had gone through, to change the ebb and flow of the Force in the galaxy.

Vjun solar burned bright and harsh, reinvigorated. Hob's machinations had reversed its' age a thousand years, and made it more than a simple solar star.

Then, Hob pulled the Force from it, through the conduits he had opened and been so careful to build, through Bast, and into Vjun itself, where he wrought further changes. Continents trembled, then went still, their constitutions having been indefineably and irrevocably altered. Gouts of acidic steam issued forth from cracks in the planet's surface and fell silent, certain tensions released and others reinforced.

And then, having reinvented the bulk of the solar system to suit his needs and those of his brethren, Hob turned his attention to the last place that needed changing.

Bast itself.

The Force had been pulled through it, first one way to bring energy to the sun, then the other way to draw that energy into the planet's surface. Already it had been changed twice by those experiences, tempered, forged, shaped into something that conducted the Force extremely well. Such a property would aid the Dark Jedi in their needs for everyday experimentation, and battle on Vjun itself.

But now, as the collected Force energy of billions of kilometers and trillions of gigawatts flowed into it for the last time, it became something else. Something alive.

The spirits that resided in the solar system were now bound to Bast's operation, and its' service. The flood of Force energy and Hobgoblin's wielding of it fused them with the solid durasteel of the castle as surely as a pilot's repair torch welds hull plating. They would keep their charge operational and dormant, and respond to the will of its' Dark Jedi occupants, for as long as they lived. And life, for the undead spirits, was eternal.

The castle itself gained a primitive awareness, too. The joining of Hobgoblin's mind with the metal and energy, and the further inclusion of the spirits of Vjun, created an super-consciousness; an extension of the Dark Dwarf that was of him, but not from him, and that encompassed the spirits who were its' servants. Not only would Bast remain operational and cared for, it would defend itself from intrusion with what means it possessed.

<center>######</center>

Inside the Hall of Sorrows, the walls trembled violently in stillness and power in its' purest form flowed around everyone present. The light from Hob's body flashed and bent in a kaleidoscope of starburst patterns as he wrestled the Force into the way he wanted it.

The Dark Jedi present found both hot pleasure and cold serenity in feeling the Force during the massive working that Hob was performing. The brilliance, the clarity, the uniqueness of the moment was astounding.

And then, Hob had finished.

Then it was over. And Hob let go of the energy he held.

The tidal wave of Force energy simply spread throughout the system, caught now in patterns that would keep it there for those who could draw from it to use. It was a wondrous change he had made, and his brethren would feel a difference akin pulling on a glove that had been tailored to fit their hand.

"My brothers and sisters," Hob said in a voice tired with the effort he'd put forth, but still deep and commanding. "I give you a new Vjun, and a new Bast Castle. I give you our new home."