Mithra arose from the his seat, his scared face growing red with fury under the cloaked darkness of the robes draped over his head. His serpentine staff hardening at his side, the crowds of Vong warriors staring at him, whispering and pointing. He had been disgraced. He walked slowly, the fury within him burning through his skin. His nails dug deeper into his arm, the anger within him festering like an infected wound.

Zeralin Lah. The name ran within him like a the potent venom of a serpant, feeding the chaos and rage that smoldered within him as he exited the gathering of Vong hierarchy. He walked quickly, for plans not put into action were plans lost in the sands of time. Zeralin Lah had to pay for his abomination against Yun-Yammka.

The towering double doors of the temple of Yun-Yammka slowly eased open, groaning with displeasure with each passing moment, each inch bring a louder and louder moan. Mithra stormed forward, the alter of the God of War standing proud and tall over the small congregation of coral benches within the mighty worldship Czulkang Lah.

He drove his serpentine staff forward, casting it off into the distance as he kneeled before the mighty statue of Yun-Yammka, a few words of prayer escaping his lips in the form of distant whispers. "Are'nia dorn ic ra ecque, Yun-Yammka."

Corran stood with the other Jedi and left the room keeping his senses inward not reaching out to any of the other Jedi. He automatically took the turns back to his room, but his thoughts were still on the images they'd seen.

"What could it be?" He asked himself.

Corran entered his room which was empty except for a bed, closet and a small table with his blaster, lightsaber and comlink. Walking over to his closet he pulled a small travelling bag out of it. Reaching into the back of the closet he pulled out a spare tunic and a pile of credits. Standing he went over to the table and grabbed the comlink. Quickly he left a delayed message for 1 month from know to be sent to Mirax notifying her of his death. When this was done he put his comlink in the bag and sealed it.

The whole of the room let out a sigh of relief as the priest left the room, putting an end to the stand off, for now. Several of the warriors who backed the warmaster let go of their amphistaves, looking at their leader for some kind of an assurance. He simply nodded in their wake.

None of them particularly liked that priest, but he was one of the most senior in the current reborn Yuuzhan Vong priest caste, he could not be so easily tossed asside. While he held no authority without the approval of the warmaster, he also held a lot of political weight. To do away with him would cause a war in the castes.

Foolish, this would-be Anor was nothing more than an infidel in Vong-clothing. Zhin Dwamor tapped at his jaw with his right, mutilated fingers, he ground his teeth against one another, making an abbhorent sound of bone against bone.

This was precious, the timing had to be perfect, the unison had to be firm. The gods and the Supreme Overlord would allow nothing less.

The priests the warmaster gazed out backed down under his firm glare, cuddling back into their corners like frightened vermin. He had little respect for priests, though not because of what they were. He admired Yuuzhan Vong who's lives revolved around pleasing and interpreting the gods. Yet he'd only found two or three priests who did not use their influence.

"The assault goes adequetley enough," Zhin commented dryly, peering at the other, younger Yuuzhan Vong of the Lah domain near him. He wanted to send him down there, to accumulate more kills, but this would be overkill, they needed to feel the water's warmth before leaping in and besides, that would only show the priests that their superior had gotten under what little skin he had.

They had to wait.

"Get your troops ready for dispatch," he said suddenly, deciding to please both castes. "Do not launch without my direct permission or authorization, adhere to no others' orders. Do you understand?"

The other nodded.

"Then when I give the signal bring your men to the ground and clenase in the name of Yun-Yammka, though not a second before."

Again the young Lah nodded.

Zhin looked at the brain-like Yammosk, which gave an approving gurgle. This was too important.

Gorak did as he was told. He rounded up his troops, and prepared to leave. He was eager to cleanse. His mind was bent on gaining glory for his domain.

He would not fail his Lord or the gods. He wanted more honor. He waited for the order to move out.

In the blackness of space moves a seed shaped object. Somewhat resembling an organic asteroid, it's holding pattern over the planet Veresh is too regulated for the object to be of natural occurrence. Measuring ten meters in length, the ship, if it could be called that, emits no signals that could be considered within the reasonable paradigm of space-craft.

This sort of vehicle has long been absent from the galaxy and, few, if any, standard sensors are equipped to detect craft of it's origin.

With a slowly degrading orbit the living asteroid breaks the planets upper atmosphere with plotted precision. Small flecks of the creatures hull burn and peel off as it hurtles towards the planet, but the toll is nothing the ship cannot handle.

Once through the atmosphere it pitches it's nose down and drives through the cloudcover well beyond terminal velocity. In a swift maneuver the nose climbs up just enough to level the fall while maintaining speed and aiming for a small infidel village on the planets surface, some thousand meters below. Flying like a falling asteroid the seed shape speeds on towards the township below with the morning sun at her back.

At the last moment the shape slows drastically and with thunderous result, smashes the sound barrier over the rooftops.

Finally, and with tumultuous roar, it collides with the ground in the towncenter. Bits of yorrik-coral scatter around the impact sight as the object instantly carves out a nine meter impact crater, the shock wave shaking some buildings while utterly demolishing others.

Smoke and debris clutter the area around the crater but, the outline of the seed remains clear and undamaged. The damage from impact alone is staggering to behold.

Slowly the sound dies off and the eery silence of early morning creeps back in but, the peace lasts only a moment.

From the crater crawl a number of massive voxyn, visible only as outlines in the haze and chaos. They hang back long enough to scent the air before moving off in search of the kill.

Beyond the city limits, watching this all unfold, lurks one lone Yuuzhan Vong with a vested interest in this mission. Intendant and Executor, he has been responsible for this endeavor from the start and will shortly move into the city to make first-hand observations.

Before he can do that however, he strokes the villip before him to life, urging it to reach out to it's counterpart in the Warmasters keep.

With his symbiotes at attention, he quietly awaits the Warmasters reply.

Kasien Treseda's eyes widened to the point of almost straining their eyelids at the sight of the man. He turned to Gash slowly, his face pale as a ghost. "What in the fuck...?"

Gash ignored his friend, nodding instead to his less-corporeal comrade. "And you, Ren. It is... good to see you, as well. Albeit in a reduced form." He smiled weakly. "You were too strong to be a slave to death. Truly my student, even beyond the veil."

Ren gave a concurring nod towards gash before continuing.

"I have to make this short my friend. I came here to warn you . . . warn you of what awaits ahead. Soon you will face something of great evil, possibly even greater than the any sith.

Many of the Jedi here will perish . . . all will risk thier lives.

I . . .I cannot interfere as you may be well aware, but I'll be watching.

May the force be with you, may the force be with all of you.

Goodbye."

Before Gash could respond, the ghostly apparition of his former student drifted away as effortlessly as it had came, leaving Gash and Kasien alone, once again.

The sounds of screaming terror and ravaging beasts filled the air as Nox strode fully through the town. He did not bother with hiding himself from sight, with the gnullith over his shoulders he seemed no more then a robed figure moving through the din.

As he stood, taking in the sounds of destruction and mayhem, the urge to shed blood rose in his being. It was an impulse he often controlled, as was demanded of his bearing, but at times it became more then he wished to resist. Much like the Embrace of Pain, it was something he saved.

Suddenly alerted to a sound on his left, Nox spun on his heel only to see a small group of eight infidels armed with rifles hurtling down the street toward him. Oddly, or perhaps not considering his disguise, the infidels did not break their weapons to bare on him, but rather ran ahead as if driven by an unnamed fear. Naturally, it did not take him long to realize that a voxyn was hot on their trail.

This was a kill he wished for himself, not his voxyn.

As he shouted an order in the tongue of his people the voxyn stopped in it's tracks. The infidels took slightly longer to respond.

In their moment of confusion Nox threw the hood and wings of his cloak back from himself, plainly showing his shape in all its glory.

Scarred, mutilated and tattooed, his markings of trial, rank, and achievement covered every inch of his flesh not already substituted for symbiotes. Foreign biological weapons and armor seemed to decorate his shape as he stood tall and proud before the motley crew of infidels.

Speaking in his own tongue, he gave his one warning before attacking.

"Die Well."

Then, with stunning speed he launched into action. Leaping once, he found himself standing squarely before the groups would-be leader. A tall humanoid, this ones physical build was clearly the largest of the rest.

Before the front man could even respond Nox had jabbed the razor sharp tail of his amphistaff through the mans neck. Without missing a beat, he turned on his heel and brutally yanked the creature free of the mans neck while delivering a painful blow to anothers mid-section via his heel. Even then, he didn't slow. As the body of his first victim slumped to the ground he threw up his free hand in the face of another villager. Where there had only been empty palm appeared the head of a smaller more refined ampistaff. The tsai, as the Yuuzhan Vong called them, hardened its beak as it was driven through the mans facial structure.

Quick steps soon had him behind the majority of the groups attention and free to act again. Unfortunately, one of the fringe men had tracked his motions with his rifle and now fired a searing bolt at the Executors side. The shot glanced off of his vondoon armor, but was enough to drive him back a step and prevent him from making another brutal lunge. He did, however, manage to hurl a small buzzing insect at the infidel who had shot him... the resulting explosion blew the heretics chest open.

The fray continued for only thirty standard seconds more before the small party of villagers lay dead at the feet of the Executor. When it was over he spoke only the simple prayer, a tone of mocking in his voice, the strode off to continue his search...

The sharp-edged blade which protruded from Zeralin Lah's elbow cut outwards as he swung his elbow in a vicious jab. The blade sliced across the infidel soldier's neck, blood spraying in the Yuuzhan Vong's face. He brought his arm back around and down, the coufee knife clenched in his hand digging deep into the infidel's back and re-emerging out of his chest. He allowed the infidel to fall, crumpled and bloodied to the ground.

The next infidel came charging, blaster borne proudly and blatantly, firing at the Yuuzhan Vong. Behind Zeralin Lah were five other men, all excellent soldiers themselves, who -- like he -- brought their amphistaffs to bear and easily deflected the fire. Allowing his battle claw implants to slide easily from the hand which bore his coufee, their commander came at the infidel in a low crouch, flying to his feet in a leap and sweeping the claws into the infidel bastard's chest with ease, digging deeply.

The infidel fought back, swinging his blaster at his attacker and attempting to bring the butt of the weapon swooping down upon Zeralin Lah's head. With his free hand, the Yuuzhan Vong brought up his amphistaff, the rigid weapon's cutting edge slicing through the barrel of the blaster, then twisting and flinging it from the infidel's hand.

The infidel soldier punched at his assailant, futiley jabbing at Zeralin Lah even as he gurgled forth blood. The commander simply deflected the blows, bringing his knee into the infidel's stomach repeatedly, until at last he succumb to the wounds and ceased his struggle.

Smiling through his blood-soaked visage, Zeralin Lah turned to the others. "That is the last of the combat-worthy ones, Commander," one of his subordinates said. "What shall be done with the rest of the infidels?"

"Request one or two of Vorsaak's shapers," Zeralin Lah replied, "And a group of slaves. We will implant the survivors with coral, and enslave them."

"And the city?"

Zeralin Lah looked about at the small town. "Burn it all. Leave nothing of this abominous, festering infidel shit swamp."

The warriors nodded and went about their tasks. Even then, in Zeralin Domain Lah's mind, his Yammosk implant stirred and drew forth his attention. It spewed forth thoughts which transcended words, yet amounted to, 'Zeralin Domain Lah, return to base camp. There is something you must see.'

Gash Jiren could feel his homeworld -- the world he'd built -- sliding away, further and further, until it was, within his mind, only a pinprick of light in the endless darkness of space. The Marauder-class Corvette Hermes ferried him and the Rogue Jedi away from their homes faster than the speed of light, to a world they'd never known, perhaps to give their lives for a people who wanted none of their help.

His mechanical arm's communication link buzzed silently, not really an actual motion but instead a sensation instantly occuring in his mind, drawing his attention to the thing. He brought the prosthetic limb up, the built-in holoprojector activating instantly, at his very thought. Forth, came Kasien Treseda. "We're a few minutes away from Veresh, now," the intelligence agent said. "If you've got anything to tell the Jedi, do it now."

Gash nodded apprehensively. "What about the troops on board the other corvettes? Ready, I assume?"

A tinny, rasping metallic voice could be heard, for the briefest of moments, barking indeciferable but definitely profanity-studded speech in the background, some of which may have alluded to the less-than-honorable sexual practices of certain crewmembers' parents. "D31 acknowledges that the Cobra-Omega Battledroids are ready for action, and I can vouch the same for their living counterparts." The Rogue Jedi Order often made use of the subordinate Ossan Armed Forces, a legendary fighting force comprised of both highly-advanced, self-repairing, self-replicating battledroids and sentient beings. While they travelled in seperate Marauder Corvettes, the Rogue Jedi had chosen to travel almost exclusively in the Hermes, most of whom were now gathered in the massive cargo and troop transport bay of the 150-meter vessel.

Gash nodded to Kasien. "Give D31 my best."

Treseda, who had never liked the surly droid, grimaced. "Always."

"Jiren out."

"Treseda out."

Gash proceeded to half-climb, half-leap upon one of the cargo containers in the hold. The Rogue Jedi milling about in the bay slowly came to attention as they noticed the Jedi Master. After a moment, he spoke. "We are minutes from touching down on Veresh. What we'll find there, neither I nor anyone else knows. But regardless, we will do as we have always done: rely on our steadfast courage, and that of our comrades, to do the will of good."

He was silent for a moment. "Are you all ready?" He finally inquired.