Ice and Fire, Death and Fury

[Hawkins Grime]

Orar sat in the turret gunner's sling, pulling his scarf tighter around his neck against the chill of space. Looking at the ice planet ahead of them did not help his disposition either. He leaned back, trying to sleep some before they reached their destination.

Khar Delba.

The ship cruised gracefully, e'Drain leaning across the cockpit to flip a switch as the entered the next level of the planet's gravitational pull. He leaned back, placing his boots on the corner of the flight controls. He laced his fingers behind his head and tilted backwards, gazing out through the cockpit to the deep space beyond the blue light of the ice world. His flight jacket was zipped up, another jacket underneath it stuck out at the collar with the black and grey fur of some very warm animal.

Khar Delba.

Rowan was in the armory, doors shut, standing to the side of the immobile and sleeping frame of Hawkins Grime. In sharp contrast to the rest of the ship, the hibernating monster within the exoskeleton was emanating a degree of heat that made Averre think of an industrial oven. She was wearing a loose tank top and shorts, sweat dripped down her pale skin and her hair was matted to her forehead. She wiped her hands on her shorts before grabbing another piece of armor and attaching it to the statuesque frame of Grime's advanced exoskeleton. Much like the demonic Mandolorian helmet, the segmented, spiked, and bladed armor pieces were modular to the more simple Mandolorian exoskeleton. The technology offered by the Mandolorians had offered Grime a unique benefit but with his own savant mechanic, installation of the more imposing and powerful sets had become something of a ritual between Hawkins Grime and Rowan Averre. The perfect face of Hawkins Grime was set in repose but Averre knew better. She was positive that Grime was incapable actual sleep, nor did he deserve such peace. She gave a solemn glare as she lifted the helmet that seemed to be looking into her eyes as if it flayed her very soul to have been partly responsible for the monster himself.

==========

The limousine pulled forward, doors opening automatically. CENSORED stepped forward, the large fur coat pulled close about him, with his elbow hooked, escorting a pretty thing on his arm, equally warm in her own fur coat. She slid in the limo, and he followed. Behind him two others followed, his usual security detail.

"Finally. Some actual heat."

The door closed behind them and one of the guards hit the console to increase the temperature until it was nice and comfortable. Both of them shed their fur jackets and leaned against one another.

"Imagine, its so cold that people are simply dying of their own lack of shelter and here you are wearing that?"

The woman chuckled, wearing a lithe, form fitting dress, leaning against him more.

"You haven't complained yet, CENSORED. So you must not have had any objections otherwise."

Her smile was predatory and her words were laden with traps.

[Dendra Tess]

She was reduced to an archaic, temperamental writing utensil and a worn journal, the pages somewhat stained but blissfully empty. For about the fiftieth time since Rowan Averre had relinquished the pen into her care, she raised it from the starchy page, and shook the ink within it mercilessly. Then, with a sharp inhale of barely contained rage, she resumed copying down everything she remembered about Khar Delba from the historical texts she had read at her grandfather's library on Empress Teta. She'd left off on the name Sadow, in a section detailing his involvement with the icy planet and how it had once supported an immense citadel that served as a decoy and lure for his rival, Ludo Kreesh. Each time she wrote the word citadel, or some synonymous form of it, she felt the need to pause; the necklace her grandfather had given her, one she came to recognize had a will of its own, pulsed softly with each stroke of the ballpoint against paper when her attention needed honing. There was no doubt as to where they should seek this so called map she had unwittingly prattled on about.

She began to write again, only to have the ink sputter half-heartedly against the page. This time, she snarled in fury and chucked the offending objected across the room. Rather than skid across the floor, as she had intended it to do, the item plunged tip first into the paneling near the closet. Her eyes widened and she shoved her journal under the mattress, wedging it between the underlying bars that supported it. Clambering forward, hoping she hadn't encouraged her captors to come sniffing about, she moved over to the pen and pulled it from the wall; a clear black mark where it had burrowed its way in. She rubbed her thumb across it furiously and flicked a nervous glance toward the door, noticing her reflection in a small mirror next to it. Dendra stopped the motion immediately, taking in what seemed to be a frost that had begun to creep across the glass. She breathed out slowly and steam escaped her lips, her fingers lifting to entwine with the transient vapor. Then, as soon as it had come, it was gone; leaving only an unnatural chill to her room, her prison, in its wake.

She shivered and threw open the closet door, rummaging through the contents left from the quarter's previous inhabitant. Her grasp fastened on something long-sleeved and insulated, some kind of jacket, and she yanked it from the hanger carelessly; pulling it around herself without much care given to what it looked like. Vanity was worth little in places like Khar Delba.

[Hawkins Grime]

The door to the reliquary opened, Averre stepping out, her bare feet slapping on the floor as the avatar of Chroma MK II followed her out. She grabbed the towel from where she had strategically left it, dabbing herself off as she walked back towards her corner of theBlack Wyvern. Behind her came Hawkins Grime, fully armored. The heat washed into the hallway, steam coming from the doorway and the panels on the floor and along the walls that immediately fogged over.

The armored figure had a moment to register the movement out of his periphery as the youthful Mandolorian charged him. Metal fingers closed around a wrist, bending the young man's hand inwards. The knife dropped to the deck and Grime's feet moved in a stutter step as his legs reacted to the boy's footwork. The impacts of Orar's armored fists against the underside of Grime's plated torso did little good. The exoskeleton under the armor plates coiled and uncoiled as Grime blocked blow after blow, crashing against the far wall.

"That's it, Orar..."

Grime's free hand crashed into the teenager's thigh, hitting with such force that Orar fell to a knee but to his credit not making a noise.

"Don't give up..."

Orar struggled against A'den's advantage, his breathing heavy, as his fury filled his muscles, as A'den had described. His leg began to work again, as if it had never been injured. Orar knocked an incoming fist to the side, and then twisted, leaping towards A'den and wresting his wrist back to his own control. He had barely landed before he threw up his own hand, his body tensing with concentration as he tried to resist the oncoming impact of the Force. Grime had barely moved but Orar had sensed the rage, the hatred, like an oncoming speeder in the middle of the lane being driven by lunatic. He grunted, lifted off his feet only a few inches as he tried to absorb the blow, his own battle lust rising up.

"Ahhhh... good. You can taste it, I see."

A'den's voice slid across Orar's nerves like a scalpel against his temple. The sheer willpower of A'den on that next level was oppressive. Orar exhaled, breathing heavily, sweat dripping from his face.

"Enough... Save your strength. You'll be too weak to be of any use."

The demagolka was goading him on. Orar took the bait willingly, yelling out as he lunged forward, letting his anger fuel the momentum to his fist. The boy did not expect it when the pulling Force came from behind him, bringing him faster than intended, off beat towards A'den. The bastard stepped to the side just barely but brought a metal knee up that took Orar hard in the torso, doubling him over it. Then the metal fist crashed into the back of his head and the young Mandolorian hit the deck and did not move again.

"Ramikadyc, boy. You'll need it."

The rasping breathing could have been something like laughter as Grime left the unconcious body where it lay and made his way to the cockpit. Averre stuck her head out from the escape pod chamber where she had hidden.

On the way to cockpit, Hawkins stopped at the third room on the left. Ithiel's old room. The door opened at his approach and he stepped in to see their newest passenger.

[Dendra Tess]

Dendra Tess slowly pushed her arms through the sleeves of the jacket, bringing the high collar close to her face and inhaling the somewhat scorched scent that seemed ingrained within the fibers of the cloth. It was a smell she had become very familiar with, one that saturated the black material of her dress and the rough leather of her knee-high boots beneath it; almost as though she had been standing before a large bonfire for days on end. The aroma itself wasn't unpleasant but the thoughts it provoke certainly were, she knew precisely the source and her blood boiled merely at the direction her mind took. And on that note, the door to her quarters swept open and his imposing form took up the frame entirely. As he stepped forward, she did not retreat as she might have a few days prior; truthfully, it would have done her no good.

Instead, she subtly tucked her left hand into the pocket of the jacket, pen clutched within it, and rotated her body to face him squarely. The shear heat of his presence was nauseating but it was something she had come to expect, the chill of the room thoroughly diminished upon his entry. The jacket wasn't necessary now, neither for atmospheric comfort or to shield her skin from whatever bizarre form of torture he might be fathoming in that twisted mind of his. An azure brow lofted, a cheeky way of inviting him to explain what the hell he was doing in here.

[Hawkins Grime]

"Tessling. Khar Delba awaits. Where to start?"

Hawkins stepped in further, turning his back on her toward the desk on the opposite side of the room. He placed his hands on the desk, feeling the echoes of pain from the tussle with Orar like a hangover of pain awash his usual existence. The heat in the room flared as he powered through the sensation of his innards ripping and stitching back together again. He turned on her, his high horned helmet twitching slightly in a spasm of stifled pain.

[Dendra Tess]

Azure eyes trailed after him as he crossed the room to the desk, that inquisitive brow sinking back down into place once Hawkins Grime was no longer facing her to observe it. It was too bad she did not having anything with which to attack him, for this was certainly a fortuitous position to find herself in; not that she'd have the faintest idea where to strike him in all the armor he adorned himself with. If the commotion outside the room was any indication, Orar had undoubtedly already tried to catch him unawares and failed again, anyway. The Mandalorian youth was far more skilled at physical combat than she and if he could not succeed with harming him, she didn't have a prayer. Not yet, anyway. She realized she'd been quiet for too long after his question, not in contemplation of it but of his demise. Her malicious intent was crystal clear but she tamped it down, hopefully in time to avoid whatever violent urges consumed this hellspawn.

"There is a citadel that once belonged to Naga Sadow, the remains of it anyway. I believe we should search there." She told him matter-of-factly, approaching him slowly and letting her keen gaze rove of his backside; seeking out a chink, anything.

[Hawkins Grime]

Hawkins Grime faced her, the reflection of his helmet's green eyes caught in her deep blue, a metal hand snapped forward, seemingly impulsively. Taloned fingers slid around the back of Tess' neck before his thumb pressed 'gently' against her cheek. While the digit was against her cheek, the clawed point rested just beneath her eye.

===========

"Should we take those pretty blue eyes of his then?"

"Neh, ol'Digger says he wants him to be seein' all he brought down on 'imself."

"All of it?"

"Aye."

Glacier blue eyes shook in pain-captivated rage, boring into themselves in the mirror above the mutilated remains that sputtered with hisses and wheezes of life.

==========

"Too close, Tessling. You keep inviting... opportunities like this and one might think that you enjoy it."

His hissed breathing and the tension of his armored chest was the briefest warning given before a silk-thin thread of his shared pain and wrath licked up Dendra's spine from behind her.

[Dendra Tess]

The Tess halted mid step as he turned on her, the icy fist of dread wrapping itself around her spinal cord. The overwhelming heat of his presence consumed her, directed by the sudden lurch of his talon tipped fingers toward her face. She flinched but was not permitted to do more than that once his grasp was in place against the back of her neck; the sharp point of his thumb placed menacingly near her eye. Her cerulean orbs swiveled toward that threat briefly before sliding back up to meet the eerie green glow of his helmet's gaze. There was a momentary silence and she hung stationary within it, waiting for that cloak of violence and agony to inevitably fall over her once more.

He did not disappoint. Well...

A barb was on the tip of her tongue when that predicted sensation sank, serrated, into her backside. It was not unlike being whipped but the pain remained as intense throughout rather than receding temporarily for another blow. It took every ounce of strength not to careen forward away from the flow of it, right into that taloned grip so strategically placed. Instead, her eyes rolled back into a clenched position and her teeth captured her bottom lip in a pose not unfamiliar; this time, drawing a rivulet of blood from a narrow puncture she afflicted. It coursed down her chin, hardly serving as a distraction from this... assault.

Her eyes opened, defiant and furious. Something more, perhaps?

[Hawkins Grime]

Grime was eerily silent. His thumb moved away from her eye to her chin, pressing against her lower lip as the blood ran over the metal digit.

"No... possession this time... no dark secrets for me? No ice cold embrace?"

The heat intensified at an alarming rate. Hawkins' exoskeleton heaved in reaction to the temperature itself; the vents in his back blasted out more hot air. With the discomfort of the heat, a nauseating pain resonated off the walls, hovering just at the edge of Dendra's periphery, threatening to overtake her like an incoming high tide.

"If you want me... to break you, simply ask... But you must at least... remain of use to me... for now..."

Grime would not bother to incapacitate her so easily with the planet and their destination only so far out, mere hours.

[Dendra Tess]

In response to his inquiries, her tongue darted out and lapped at the bloody trail that slowly cascaded down her lip and chin; laving her tongue across the pointed metal of his clawed thumb. Whether it was intentional, which seemed unlikely, or accidental, her unerring stare did not specify. A bead of sweat trickled down her forehead in response to the ever rising temperature. Silently, she prayed for control over whatever power lingered within her so she could invoke that frightful chill that only seemed to present itself at random. He was already on to the next statement but Dendra was still wrapped up in the psychology of his questioning. Was he more than minutely intrigued by the power she had presented to him? She knew already he was interested in her ancestry and the dark secrets buried deep in the blood pumping rapidly through her veins. The cold, though... it was a piece to a different puzzle.

The hiss of hot air through the vents at his back brought her to the moment and the startling sound punctuated a very intriguing notion...

His rage and pain permeated her, seeming to adorn her like a second skin but far beneath the surface; ripping its way to the fore whenever he so desired it. Could she, with practice, affect him similarly? Dendra was coming to the conclusion that it was the key to conquering him. Take away the fury and agony, what did he have left? "You cannot begin to fathom... what I want." She finally managed to reply with no small amount of resolve, her expression dead-panning. It would undoubtedly invite more torment but the more he pressed, the more her understanding would flourish. Whether she succumbed to it before she could use it against him, however, would only be known in time.

[Hawkins Grime]

The sneer that came from behind the helmet was quick, severe.

"Child. Get your head... out of your books."

With that, Grime's hand slipped from her neck and up, grabbing her hair and yanking her down, hard enough to pull her feet out from underneath her. His other hand pressed against the other side of her face and he laced his touch with thorns of pain against skin in his impulsive frustration.

"Don't lose this pride yet, Tess... You deserve more than this."

Grime's metal foot braced against her shoulder as his hands released from her face and hair and he pushed her down with his boot. The sneering noise issued again, the vents compensating with another blast of air. The nauseating heat departed the room with Grime as he stepped out back into the corridor, turning left and heading for the cockpit.

"Yeah, boss? She say where to?"

"The larger citadel... Just like we had thought..."

[Dendra Tess]

A low cry was wrenched from between her lips as he forced her to the ground by her hair, tears pricking her eyes and white-hot rage boiling within her. A hellish scream gathered in her throat but it was strangled off as pain arced through her face; seemingly directed by the hand that had been placed there. It was crudely carved into her every muscle fiber, the desire to retaliate; but, doubt held her in check and inexperience whispered a grave warning in her ear. His foot drove her lower and her hands splayed out just in time to brace against the impact. She whipped her azure hair over her shoulder and glared after his departing frame, her entire body raw from their encounter. She trembled and seethed, unable to rise from where he had put her for several minutes.

Then, grasping the end of the bed, she slowly pulled herself to her feet. Gods, what had she done to deserve this fate? She had to escape but she certainly wasn't going to manage that on Khar Delba. She could only pray that their next destination would be somewhere far more populated, somewhere she could disappear and never been seen by the likes of Hawkins Grime ever again.

[Hawkins Grime]

Several hours later, the Wyvern was just about to land on Khar Delba. Orar jumped from the lowered ramp into the snow. His armored form appeared less lanky with the bulky environmental suit on underneath, keeping him warm. His black-green armor stuck out against the pure white back drop but the wind and sleet only allowed for visibility no further than maybe five or six meters. As he hit the ground, there was much less powdered snow to absorb his impact than he expected. He hit hard rock ice quickly enough and nearly tripped. The cold bit at his extremities but he felt like if he stopped moving to really examine the sensation, it would already be too late. He glanced back at the ramp over his shoulder, startling and then scrambling out of the way as the massive droid, Chroma MK I, fell chest first right where Orar had been standing. Orar cursed loudly, the droid's fall likely an intentional ploy. It had not killed anything recently; it was like the droid had an itch to impulsively murder and if it did not satisfy that itch... The Mandolorian kicked snow at the droid as it stood up, the gesture going unnoticed by and large.

The Black Wyvern landed finally as e'Drain set her down. He killed the engines and the master power, leaving the rest to Chroma MK II and the little lady as they never, if ever rarely departed from the Wyvern. He was lucky if he saw even once a day, though she had been out more since Blue had arrived. Maybe she had a new friend. Morrolan shrugged to himself, checking the collar to his environmental suit before pulling out his helmet. He never wore this thing. Ever. But the inside of the ship already had frost in it and that said something about the outside for sure. He didn't like the feeling of it around his face, felt like he was trapped or something, which left him wondering how the Boss lived like he did. e'Drain shrugged again, caught himself, wondering how often he did that, before stepping into the main deck of the ship. Grime was kneeling to the side as Averre had some mechanic's tool, refastening something to his armor or something. e'Drain had no mind for all the boss' artifacts and trinkets, but it seemed just as important as keeping the ship in the air. The boss brought the big guns to the fight too so it made sense that Grime was in such earnest to remain the most fine tuned weapon they had in their arsenal.

e'Drain took a few steps to the right and knocked gently on the door.

"Hey Blue, you ready to roll? Ramps down and the cold's coming in. Gotta get moving. This citadel is a short walk away, alright?"

[Dendra Tess]

The azure haired scholar jumped as a knock sounded at the door, a whorl of vapor escaping past her lips as she expelled a startled breath. Relief washed over her upon hearing e'Drain's voice; not that Hawkins Grime would have bothered with knocking, truth be told. She scowled at the closed aperture at the thought but quickly scampered off of the bed, shoving sheaves of paper that she'd torn from the bedraggled journal back into the crumbling spine and then stuffing it under the mattress in its makeshift hideaway. The bed coverings, which she'd tucked around herself for additional insulation as she sketched, fell to the ground and she nearly tripped over them on the way to the door. She'd pretty much covered herself with as many layers as the room's former occupant's closet could afford, still prone to the occasional shiver as the penetrating cold worked its way beneath the high collar of her borrowed coat.

The door opened and she nearly ran head long into e'Drain, coming up short but only by an inch or two. She canted her head back, her gaze meeting his uncertainly before it flicked away. Unfortunately, her eyes blundered upon the knelt frame of her avid tormentor; heat suffused her cheeks at the memory of being forced to the ground mere hours ago. While she loathed to help this monster in any way, there was no denying the burgeoning excitement she felt at the opportunity to explore Khar Delba. It was something her grandfather would have encouraged or even liked to have been there for. Guilt flooded her, potently laced with hatred that pinpointed the armored form of her captor. Without a word to e'Drain, having already corrected him about the proper use of her name time and time again, she moved toward the ship's ramp; following the bitter cold and the influx of gusts that carried snow right into the ship.

Her boots crunched down upon the tightly compacted snow and the winds battered her enviro-activated coverings relentlessly; she felt the very winds fight to push her back into the ship but she stood strong against them. Small tendrils of blue hair, that had escaped her ponytail, shifted wildly around her face but there was little she could do about that, pleased only to have some manner of warmth now that the jacket had activated, she supposed it would be called. A short walk he had said. Well, thank the Gods for that. There wasn't much else she could attribute to the Almighty, after all. Her boots were already becoming damp and she could still feel the boreal atmosphere trying to bite its way through her clothing. She grit her teeth, crossing her arms in front of her almost defensively, and turned a petulant stare upon Orar who lingered some yards ahead of her.

[Hawkins Grime]

Orar approached the blue haired woman, giving a sidelong glance that went unnoticed from beneath his helmet. He lifted a large nail, the length of his leg and slammed it into the ground beside the woman. A cable was strung through the spikes and Orar took the loose end and tied it to a strut of the ship before turning back to the Tess woman.

"Here. Hold this."

His hands pushed her by her shoulders towards the cable strung through the loops of each nail.

"Try not to get lost, don't wander off. And watch out for the droid..."

Orar snickered as he stepped back towards the ramp, grabbing two rucks of equipment, hastily sidestepping as A'den stepped down the ramp. Behind him stood Averre, shivering, watching the demagolka walk into the blizzard.

"Go hide already then, slip."

Averre raised an eyebrow and lifted the drill or whatever tool it was in her hand like a pistol, pulling the trigger and the drill activating as if she had just shot him. Orar grunted, re-shouldering the rucks and turning back down the ramp. Orar only made it a few steps before an armored hand caught him on the shoulder. He turned quickly but not quick enough as he stared down the barrel of a heavy blaster pistol.

"Bang, you're dead, kid. Quit having such an attitude, alright? We just got here. I think even the boss is in a better mood than you are right now."

e'Drain was fully armored in his raider's kit, something that Orar oft remarked as something that the scoundrel had likely found in some junkyard. The helmet looked like e'Drain had emptied out some droid's cranium and made a few modifications to make it look even uglier. Orar shrugged him off and stepped into the blizzard outside the ship. He did not expect the foot that followed quickly behind kicking him along.

[Dendra Tess]

Upon Orar's approach, Dendra tensed ever so slightly. While he had never unleashed his seemingly boundless energy in her direction, other than a few choice words that made her want to smother him in his sleep, she found it difficult to tell what he was thinking. She watched him intently until he disappeared behind her, slowly shuffling forward toward the cable at his insistent pushing. Her gloved hands found purchase on it and she turned a curious look over her shoulder at him, a single pierced brow arched skyward. Soon enough, he was moving away from her and her gaze was redirected back to the front; briefly flicking to droid that he had mentioned and making sure to give it a wide berth as she began to trek forward into the icy onslaught.

The snow was equal parts tightly compacted permafrost and fresh powder, at times her legs sank so deep it was difficult to pry herself out of it. But, she made due, continuing on as if drawn by a beacon toward the ancient citadel. Despite her insulated outerwear, she still felt laden and cold. She did not stop until a giant stone pillar, with a matching one parallel to it, appeared on her left side. She braced one hand against, still holding fast to the cable, and then tilted her head up. Snow continued to batter her helmet of sorts but even through the blizzard, she could see the immense, embossed parapets of the citadel exterior. Petrified wood scaffolding, covered with mounds of snow where they had collapsed, was strewn along much of the outer wall; evidence of someone's desire to restore the stronghold to its former glory in the not so distant past.

Some yards away, the yawning maw of a tunnel lay open to admit those brave enough to venture to this frigid world access to the inner halls of the citadel. A few dark whispers in her ears, unrecognized for what they were, urged her to step forward. As her right foot landed one step ahead, however, there was a terrifying crunching sound beneath her. She became deathly still, listening with a rapidly beating heart as the wooden bridge she hadn't realized she stood upon continued to creak and buckle.

[Hawkins Grime]

For a moment, the sensation around her neck was was icy cold but it quickly heated, burning, as Grime's metal fingers closed around her neck.

"Hesitation, Tessling... Fear."

He leaned in as Hawkins pushed her forward toward the entrance, his helmet just behind one of her pierced ears. His grip tightened just barely enough around her throat as her feet shuffled onto solid ground and Grime behind her.

"Feel it. Don't master it, not yet..."

Grime stepped to her side, turning her head to face him, his metal talons cupping her chin.

"Embrace the fear. Close your eyes. Close them."

They stood outside and the steam rose from the ground about them. The snow fell to a soft drizzle around them and it became nearly warm within the erratic sphere of Grime's exuding fury.

"Fear your death, of falling, to be forgotten in the ice. Fear that darkness that awaits us all just ahead. Fear me and the promises that I'll keep. Embrace it for that fear is life and your fuel while you are weak."

The metal talons stroked the side of her face, tugging at her piercings occasionally.

"Go ahead, open your eyes... Spit at me with your naivete... Show me your indignant anger... Your denial of that fear... so that I can reinforce this lesson before we step into that older darkness. I need you to be afraid. Afraid... and ready."

==========

Orar stood paces away with e'Drain beside them. They were both quiet, watching. Orar had dropped the rucks and tucked them into the side but now he was transfixed, listening to A'den speak. He shuddered, breathing heavily. He knew that sensation, that fear of which A'den spoke of. Orar closed his eyes, feeling it. He was sure that A'den himself could not sense it, but it was there, coming from the darkness. A'den knew out of pure instinct.

e'Drain turned and startled. Not wanting to break the sincere moment of poetry going on with the boss, he tried to yell and whisper at the same time.

"Hey! Hey, big fella! Hold up! No. No. Find another way!"

Morrolan waved off the massive droid before it made it's most definite failure of an attempt to cross the rickety old thing that the rest of them had somehow survived.

"Go, shoo. Find another way!"

He sighed in relief as the big orange metal monster turned away and trudged off into the blizzard, exiting stage right.

[Dendra Tess]

A low hiss escaped the blue haired woman as his taloned grasp fastened around her neck, her body giving a small, fear stunted jump that made the wooden boards beneath her feet creak all the more. At his forceful insistence, her feet slid along the mixture of fractured ice and slush that covered the bridge; almost resistant were it not for that tightening grip at her throat, one that compelled an uncomfortable incline of her head. In that instant, there was no way she couldn't feel the fear he easily coaxed within her with his very presence; every time she was even remotely in his vicinity, it was promised that she would soon find herself in a world of pain previously never fathomed.

As he stepped around to her side, her otherworldly blue eyes lifted to the macabre design of his helmet; dipping away briefly to inspected the clawed grip on her chin. The mode of her stare turned doubtful at his words but she shuttered them anyway, attempting to tap into this fear as he demanded. At first, there was only the heat of him; something she almost found desirable in the bitter cold that seemed to form a vortex around them. Each fear he plucked at established a mental image, so real that she felt her heart quickening and the telltale shivers of fright work their way up and down her spine. She fidgeted in place, clenching her fists at her side as she tried to concentrate when he began tugging at her piercings. Gods, she should have removed them. Another fear sprung into the forefront.

But, Dendra Tess had never been one to miss a lesson for what it was. Though her teacher in this instance probably only imparted these words as a means to control her, she could feel that previously untapped power quickening with his every word. Rather than looking upon the fear as a weakness, she began to morph it into fuel, as he had suggested. Her vulnerabilities were many, though, and she knew that the gates concealing her true potential would be voracious. Perhaps there were additional sources she could draw upon? How like her to consider several moves ahead. But Hawkins Grime seemed focused on the lesson at hand and looked upon her as an untried pupil. Truthfully, her experience in the matter now was little more than a feeling.

She was jerked out of her internalization by the e'Drain's voice shouting out over the tumult. Her gaze sliced to the side and then found Hawkins once more. Her hand raised, for if she was going to have this lesson reinforced she might as well be bold, and folded around his metal fingers. Unwittingly, that numbness she had imparted before pulled at his fingertips and threatened to creep slowly upward; she had been given a means now and that which had slept so long within her was eager to branch out. "I am afraid.... and ready." ​She insisted.

[Hawkins Grime]

That sensation, or lack thereof, that spread along his digits from her hand was foreign, an unwelcome peace that Grime quickly admitted to himself that he was still unprepared for. The only appropriate reaction had to be inverse sensation. It took the blink of an eye to tap into a fraction of his own pain and the numbness vanished and the pain and fury coursed back to his finger tips unimpeded. Grime closed his fingers around her hand as he let that pain continue flowing forward from him to her. He held her hand to make sure that she could not pull away. It was just enough to provide the similar amount that she had shared with him and then that much more to deliver the point.

"Embrace that pain with your fear, Tessling... Embrace that power."

Grime snarled, tossing her fingers to the side, his own metal talons twitching as the pain danced up and down the joints and re-established the status quo. He turned to Orar and flicked his head in the direction of the door. The Mandolorian nodded before proceeding into the darkness awaiting them all. Grime turned back to Dendra, his helmet's burning green eyes bearing down into her.

"Orar... can sense with the Force. Like a dog smells a scent... he senses things, danger and traps... those things that would threaten us. He's learned this through embracing his fear... understanding that death awaits in that darkness and fighting against it. The constant is that there will always be... pain."

The demonic armor lurched, the chest heaving.

"We've come to conquer this place and take it's power, Tessling... Let us begin."

His metal hand, burning hot in comparison to the cold around them, rested on the back of her neck, not nearly as forceful this time, as he led her through the doorway.

[Dendra Tess]

She might have expected recompense. But, she could never truly prepare herself for that pain, impetuous and consummate. Her first impulse was to recoil but the grip he had on her hand prevented such a reaction. It was difficult to listen to him, impossible to utilize this lesson he tried to impart with both words and actions. Mercifully, although she doubted he would ever see it as such, he batted their hands apart and that sadistic symbiosis was severed for the time being. Immediately, Dendra brought her hand close to her and her blue brows knitted together, her cerulean eyes flicking toward Orar when he came into the picture. With a nod from Grime, the Mandalorian moved into the darkness without hesitation. Then, she felt the weighty stare of her captor swivel back toward her.

She inhaled slowly but deeply, dropping her hand back to her side and wiggling the last strains of discomfort from her hand as he explained Orar's role, his connection with the fear, and the power it granted him. There was something wistful, longing, in her expression as she watched the darkness swallow the young man's frame. She remained still, her jumpiness having subsided considerably, as the devilish countenance beside her lurched and drew in a rattling breath. His words were rewarded with a solemn nod, the talons curling around her neck burning like a brand but banishing the encroaching cold in a disturbing mixture of comfort and utter, feverish discomfort. She stepped forward, her booted feet sliding inelegantly along the icy path that steered them into the looming maw of obscurity. The fear reared wildly then. But, she remembered his words.

Conquer. Take its power.

She felt an undeniable pulse within the Force, at least that was what she assumed it to be. Awash in shades of grey, pulsing with unearthly light within her mind's eye; she sensed the boundaries of the great walls that rose around them, the frozen floor below, and the vaulted ceilings above. Then, she felt beyond that. Fleeting was the feeling but the impression burned an image into her eidetic memory. As she moved forward through the darkness, she lifted her foot at precisely the right time to avoid snagging it on a moldering bit of stone that had been smashed from the wall on her left. She looked over her shoulder, witnessing the conflagrant glow of his helmeted eyes, then she continued forward.

[Hawkins Grime]

As they entered the darkness, Grime released his loose grip from her neck, letting her walk alone into the shadows of the ruins. His fury still extended ahead of him, slicking the stones with condensation, and she could tell the further away she was as it became inversely colder accordingly.

Orar stood several meters ahead of Dendra Tess, glancing back the length of the corridor as she approached. The hallway they had entered from had been deadly quiet. Orar had disabled four traps already. The blue book worm could thank him never when she never realized the envenomed death that would have been awaiting her. He hissed, leaning out of the corridor into the large circular room before them. The ceiling arched high, rays of light piercing the shattered roof as if there had once been windows but some of the towers above had collapsed in on the room. Benches or maybe pews encircled the room all up to the center. Several corridors branched off from this main room. In the center was a pedestal, as if something had once been there, or someone had once stood there. The young man padded out quietly into the room, taking cautious steps as the hair on his neck stood on end.

Death awaited him, like a playful lover, waiting to embrace him when he least expected it. At least he preferred that mental description more than some of the others. e'Drain had teased him for it when said out loud and Orar had since kept it to himself. His senses slithered along the ground, as if he was there, feeling it, smelling it, running his very own hands along the ground in search of pressure plates or triggers. Moments passed, Orar was deathly still. Longer and then finally, he exhaled and straightened. Turning back to the blue haired woman, he waved her onwards before moving along the exterior of the room, beginning to check the other hallways.

e'Drain approached Grime, watching Dendra continue forward after Orar had given her the all clear.

"Well? Something supposed to happen, boss? She's the dowsing rod, neh?"

The metal hand rested on Morrolan's shoulder and he flinched instinctively but did not shirk away.

"Patience. While the Tessling learns, becomes aware... The others are waiting to seize their chance. Orar explained it well enough. While I cannot sense them, he surely can."

"Them?"

"Ghosts. Unwelcome usurpers who had their chance and think that they still have a chance through their weak bloodline."

"Ohhhhhhhhhhh... Wut?"

Grime was through entertaining his second, striding down the hallway to join the other two in the large room ahead.

[Dendra Tess]

Her face was a mask of austerity as she stepped beyond the clutches of darkness and set foot in the first strained, jagged patterns of light that were cast down from the ruined ceiling and paneless windows above. She stopped short and lifted her stare to meet Orar's just before he turned his awareness to the immensity of the chamber they now stood in. While he explored it, both physically and undoubtedly fanning out his trained senses to seek out these traps that Hawkins Grime had mentioned to her, Dendra perused her surroundings by simply using her eyes.

While it might have been a grand sight when first constructed, the citadel was now merely a ghost of its former self. Debris hindered every step, mounds of snow gathered in places where the towering obelisks had tumbled from on high and smashed through the stone fortifications below. Everything glistened from the cold but there was something in particular that caught her attention ahead. Her eyes darted again to Orar, seeking out permission to move forward with merely a glance. When she received the go-ahead, she cautiously moved toward the pedestal at the room's very center.

She stooped, bracing her forearms on her knees and tilting her head as she contemplated a piece of what looked like black glass jutting out of the snow amassed in a stout semi-circle around the pedestal. She flicked a sidelong glance toward Orar as he disappeared down one of the hallways and then held her breath, remembering Grime's words. Fear of death. It echoed within her entirety like the reverberations of a church bell, reminding her that there were other means of seeing beyond her eyes. A hand outstretched toward the rounded glass, hesitating and waiting for that feeling to become overwhelming. When it did not, her other hand stretched out and she lifted the plate sized pane from the slush.

Her own likeness was reflected back at her in gray-scale, her disinterest having morphed into something akin to puzzlement as she inspected the emulous imagery of the in tact scrying mirror. When nothing out of the ordinary was discovered, the crystalline object sagged into her flattened palms and she returned to looking about the room. One last glance at the mirror...

The glass shattered, dropped from her grasp as she darted to her feet and lurched back a step. As she had looked back into her reflection, a skeletal corpse had suddenly appeared over her left shoulder; she felt it there, she had watched its decaying mouth form her name before she had thrust the divination tool away from her. Her breaths came out in ragged gasps but were cut short to silence when she heard a voice....

Tess.... Tess... Tess...

Her eyes seemed to know exactly where that unnerving chant seemed to originate from and her feet were eager to guide her in the direction of that corridor, led there as if in a trance.

[Hawkins Grime]

Orar turned sharply before entering another hallway, hissing under his breath as he watched the blue haired dolt stroll casually towards a corridor he had yet to clear. He was about to call out to her when a shard of black glass nearly cut his outstretched hand. He snatched it back, looking in the direction from which it came.

A'den stood there, another piece of jagged black glass maliciously floating beside him, as if already prepared to let it loose had Orar not responded to the first one.

e'Drain appeared besides Orar without him noticing, much easier than Orar would ever admit.

"The boss said to let her do her thing. But get out in front of her. Make sure she's got a clear path and don't frak it up, alright?"

Morrolan slapped the Mandolorian on the back of the helmet, his helmet's visor casting a dim yellow glow wherever e'Drain looked in the darkness around him.

Orar huffed before stalking his way ahead of the woman. He turned and caught a glance at her face, sniffing the air, sensing something otherwise, strange. He shook it off, instead turning his attention down the corridor. The Mandalorian was hunched over as if trying to remain hidden from something, anything. He sensed things like a hunting predator might sense its prey. Sniffing, like the beasts of Onderon might have. The hair on the back of his neck stood straight as he quickened his pace forward to make sure he had enough time before the entranced woman caught up to him.

Orar stopped at a seemingly normal stone set in the hallway. He drew out a small canister and shook it quickly. Leaning in, he began to spray a grey substance along the edges of the stone. Another moment and he was done, sliding along the wall to where the hole was from which a most deadly projectile would come from. Where the trigger to this was, Orar did not know. It did not matter. One less trap was all that mattered. He exhaled deeply before breathing in just as much, closing his eyes. Another moment of hesitation and Orar stepped off again to seal off another trap as the Tess woman stepped into the hallway in her slow shuffling steps. The young man glanced her way and sneered before he continued his work.

Hawkins Grime stood in the middle of the room, watching the shadows devour Dendra. Moth to the flame. Poor thing, no control. Grime's chest heaved, vents expelling heated steam into the cool air. Glass cracked beneath his metal boot. He knelt down with a grunt of effort. Picking a piece of the broken pane up. Ghosts, the boy had said. More glass cracked beneath him as he stood. Grime closed his eyes; the eye lids of the exoskeleton's artificial face, beneath the demonic visage of his helmet, automatically cooled and soothed his pained flesh. This was not to seek some contemplative peace, or to concentrate and focus on his environment. This was meant to search and awaken from within.

==========

CENSORED stepped to the side of the clumsy swing.

"I figured you'd be better at this, honestly."

"Well. You make it difficult somehow."

CENSORED sneered, side stepping the next swing before finally acting, his long, lithe, red blade slipping out like the tongue of a Krayt Dragon. His opponent cursed, deactivating the lightsaber to cradle his other arm.

"Giving up already, Tess?"

"I hate you, CENSORED."

The slick sound of the red blade sheathing was only the sign that CENSORED was transitioning to slightly less lethal means. He communicated as much when he stepped into the right cross that put the robed man on his back.

"Now, now. So melodramatic! Why don't you use your wizardry on me already and make this duel worth a frak?"

"They... They aren't here right now. I-I t-t-hink they're afraid of you..."

"They?"

Ghosts.

==========

Snow puddled throughout the room. Grime turned on his heel toward the corridor. His cloak lined at the collar and the edge with wookie fur flared behind him in the heated wind that followed Hawkins. The dry ground cracked beneath him as he stepped off. The room steamed with melting ice. e'Drain stood by the hallway, leaning against the wall, with his arm crossed, awaiting Grime. The boss had stood there for maybe four minutes. And then he'd turned the heat on. Morrolan had watched with some practiced calm as the heat wave swept through the room and then rushed around Grime like a storm. It had been really something. Then it was nothing and the boss was off to do his thing. Like it was nothing.

[Dendra Tess]

Find it...

Her breathing was steady now, her steps falling lazily but along a strategic path in the uneven corridor. The overbearing heat of Hawkins' presence was far behind her now and the cold pushed in to replace it, prompting a shudder. Dimly, she was aware of another advancing presence in the darkness; Orar, she thought, but spared him no mind as one foot continued to methodically place itself in front of the other.

On and on, the whispers that teased the back of her mind grew louder by the second. They culminated at an overwhelming pitch, no longer whispers but screams, at a certain point in the corridor and she came to an abrupt halt. Cerulean eyes stared after Orar's stooped frame, many meters ahead of her. Her left hand pressed out to the side, fingertips tracing over a shadowed impression of the same dragon imprinted on her amulet.

Not for him... not a Tess...

She pushed and the small, square of stone budged inward with a gravelly click, a harbinger to an immense panel that rolled sideways and exposed a yet to be discovered room. She turned her body to face the now open cavity, finding that the cold and gloom seemed denser in the unlit chamber before her. One moment, she stood in observance, and the next, it felt as though skeletal hands had wrapped around her forearms and yanked her without gentleness inside. She gasped, no longer entranced but incredibly afraid.

She landed hard, her knees scraping beneath her layers and her head impacting upon the stone floor harshly. A fissure ran up her environmental helmet and her fingernails scraped into the crackled sheen of ice below. A breath she hadn't realized she was holding huffed out of her, fogging the fractured, transparent layer in front of her face. Then, she heard the tell tale slam of the door she'd been pulled through being rolled back into place. The room quaked and she was immediately on her feet, unable to see...

Terror amassed as she felt something moving ahead of her, her steps shuffling backward until her back encountered the portal to the corridor, now shut behind her. It was getting closer...

She yelled out, invoking the name of the only thing more frightening..

"Hawkins!"

Not for him... not a Tess...

Suddenly, there was brightness. Blinding at one moment and then hypnotizing the next.

"...It's..."

[Hawkins Grime]

From slight exertion, Morrolan breathed heavily into his helmet.

"It's just me, Blue."

He reduced the light from his visor that was the source of the daft girl squinting. He sighed, glancing about the room, seeing nothing of significance, nothing to be screaming over at least. e'Drain had moved quickly when the stones down the hallway started shifting. He had run down the hallway and Orar was already there. The boy had pointed up and with a sigh, e'Drain had glanced up to see the break in the wall meters above them. Figures. His scarred fingers had found the clefts in the old stone easily enough. He'd climbed up there and been over the wall, just in time to hear Blue yell out for the boss. His visor had automatically compensated in the darkness and he had leaped down to rescue her from nothing apparently.

"Pull yourself together, Blue. Screaming out to the boss like that, he might think you're trying-"

The wall behind them shifted against the impact of something intense. Morrolan pulled Dendra to the side hastily.

"Well, speak of the devil. Your savior's coming, Blue."

The wall shifted again and then fractured. The stone groaned once more and then ruptured, ruining anything that might have once been a secret door. In it's frame stood the massive robot, Chroma MK II. It shuddered as it progressed forward into the room. Orar slinked in beside the droid and began scoping the room. The droid regarded Tess and e'Drain as it stopped another few paces in. As if they, organics, were nothing of consequence. Behind them followed the rush of heat. e'Drain released Dendra and took another glance in the room. Best to leave it to them and their mystical mumbo jumbo at this point.

The metal demon entered, fists clenched, the grim, green glow of the burning eyes set into his helmet proceeding his own aura of darkness that Hawkins Grime brought to the room.

"Good, Tessling. Good. Show us what you fear just less than me in here. Show them that I intend to invade their secrets and rip them from their dead fingers."

[Dendra Tess]

A hand veered up from her side, blocking out the halogen brightness of e'Drain's visor while she inwardly came to terms with the sudden blossoming of rage that urged her to murder this man with her bare hands. A series of violent images unfurled in her mind, complete with artistic splatters of blood strewn about the icy room like so much filigree. Her hand folded around her forehead, fingers kneading her throbbing temples. He was scolding her again, only further infusing her conscious mind with feelings of confusion, doubt, and fear. She opened her mouth to scold him right back, only to be yanked behind him as the solid rock wall splintered inward and spilled misshapen debris at their feet. Her eyes did not strain to look over his shoulder to take in the MK II or Orar, instead trailing off to the center of the room that he had unintentionally pushed her closer to.

When he finally released her, she gave his backside an admittedly weak shove and a glare, moving deeper into the chamber as the first waves of heat rolled in. Both fists were clenched at her side at this point, her nails biting into her palms. That rage from before, it had not lessened and that all too familiar heat was beginning to burn her inside as well as out. All it would take was one more push, one little shove to tip the scales. And, of course, that was ultimately delivered by the one thing that had supplanted this all consuming ire within her...

Good, Tessling. Good.

Her entire body shuddered and a cold wind whipped forth from some unseen breach in the building's structure. She turned then to face them all, her eyes ablaze with unholy wrath. "How many times must I tell you? It isn't Blue or Tessling... my name... is Dendra Tess!" She yelled. And one more puzzle piece slid perfectly into place.

The ground beneath her feet rumbled and a celestial blue light shot up between the rounded seal of the dais that slowly began to raise with her atop it. There was a soft tearing sound, barely noticeable above the roaring of rock sliding against rock, and the amulet formerly sealed beneath her clothing ripped free from its concealment. The pyramidal shape fit itself perfectly into a slot at the center of the dais, the thick chain pulling her down to her hands and knees until it locked into place. Small spikes sprung up where her hands had splayed to brace herself, invoking a yelp of pain from the blue haired woman. Then, as her blood leaked down into an unseen pathway below, the azure light took on the same red tinge of her forced offering and illuminated the room with an intricate, conspicuous map; a jagged line far brighter than other routes carving a clear path between a row of planets.