[OOC: I desparately hope nobody gets the idea that this is a planetary takeover thread... It isn't. ;)]

Music had a strange quality... No matter how furious one was, a beautiful song could soothe the savage beast almost instantly, turning most people from snarling beasts into easy-going souls. Likewise, the depressed could find in their music the strength to carry on, and hoist their spirits up on high to face the next day. That in mind, Lance was glad to have managed to get the time to be where he was, even if he had been pressed into taking part of his platoon's top squad as escort. And my question, came the cold thought, is why do I even want to take them, if the point of our organization is to stay unnoticed? If the point of my coming here is to get time alone!? Sighing at the futility of it all and letting the windy music flow around him, Lance idly tapped his comm, speaking into it with a very hushed voice. "Everyone, report."


"Starscythe reporting. No activity, save the noise. Reminds me of my sister." The XO's comment wasn't lost on Lance, who'd taken the time to read up on the man's data file intensively. One read the files of everyone who reported to him, naturally, but one read the second-in-command's file with perhaps a little more scrutiny...especially since one invested in that person the most trust. For a brief second, Lance wondered what the woman was going through, possibly led to believe that her brother was dead, when he was instead fighting under the most obscure cloak of secrecy the NGC could imagine.

"Johnson here, sir. You picked one Hell of a night to come to this place. Must be windier than a hurricane."

Before he had time to contemplate on the comment and voice a reaction, another member of the squad cut him off. "Easy, Hal. At least we can fly in this stuff. Jones reporting in, sir, with nothing on my scopes."

"Smith here. Scope's empty on my end as well." From all that Lance had read of Thomas, he was pretty confident that the sniper meant 'scope' literally. The very thought of that was scary, considering where they were.

"Abram reporting," came a voice that fortunately interrupted that train of thought...immature as the completed transmission was. "Where's the heavy metal?"


A female voice--the only one in the current detachment--cut in, half-reproaching and half-laughing. "Jonas! Cut that out will you!?" After a soft giggle, she spoke again. "Andersen here. It's beautiful out..."

Content that they were indeed alive and alert, Lance spoke once more. "Good. Everyone, stay alert... Never know when things can get unfavorable." Still, the music was very relaxing...

Corellian Ale. Telos Mead. Wine of the Jem. Bottle after bottle of various galactic alcohol came flying out of the minibar. The whole fridge of it had to have been emptied by this time. Then all of a sudden came a cheer of victory.

“HA!” Irtar yelled as he held the bottle triumphantly in the air. “Dantooine Rye! I knew they had to have a bottle of the stuff in there!”

Irtar looked at the results of his little quest for a taste of home. He sighed a bit and his mouth tilted into a sort of half-frown. Well, he had to get them back in there because he was sure he didn’t want a tab to end up on the Coalition desk that listed thirty bottles of booze in one night. Wouldn’t exactly endear him.

Putting the bottle of rye on the top of the mini-fridge, Irtar began putting the other bottles back in the fridge. He was about half-way through when he heard a gentle rapping at the door. The ambassador quickly hoped over to the door and swung it open. There standing was Chao, wearing a more informal dress than his standard fair. But then again, both of them were on a vacation of sorts.

Chao had been kind enough as to invite the loyal man along seeing how Irtar was always doing something. Whether it was his independent training in seeking the Force or working for the Coalition. Chao had come here with his wife for a yearly unveiling of new pieces at the art gallery on Vortex. Apparently, Chao had always had a soft spot for the arts.

But then again, everyone has their hobbies.

Chao took a look around the room with a smirk. “Dear Ambassador, I knew you enjoyed taking stuff apart but I thought your hobby didn’t spread to hotel rooms.”

“All in the name of progress I assure you, Chairman. Soon we’ll know how to build the perfect hotel room to combat the evils of the Empire!” Irtar said with a bit of a laugh. And then he suddenly remembered his reward from his previous efforts and quickly ran over to the bottle sitting on the mini-bar. “And look at the rewards that the loyal servants of the Coalition are rewarded with! And so, as a fellow ally of the Coalition, I would offer to share these spoils with you and your wife.”

“I’m sorry Irtar, but me and Chun-lin were about to head out. We have reservations for a meeting with a Vor artist concerning a piece he’s put for a sale.” Chao said somewhat apologetically. “I actually came over to see what your plans for the evening were.”

“Meh… I’ve got nothing in mind. I guess I will spend it with my wonderful long-necked friend.” Irtar said, as he cantered his head slightly as he looked at the bottle.

“Well, my personal suggestion is that you take a tour of the city. The Vor pride themselves on their art and try to build it even into the most simple of things. Besides, you haven’t had the chance to see it at night.” Chao said simple as he looked disapprovingly at the forty of rye Irtar held in his hand. “Well, if you choose not to follow my suggestion, the choice is yours. Good evening Irtar, and good health.”

Chao bowed his head slightly as turned and walked down the hall. With a sigh Irtar closed the door behind and looked at the forty. A little piece of home in a foreign land. His brothers and father had split a bottle not too unlike this one back before Irtar had left to head off to the Jedi Temple.

‘A drink to good health, and some more for good measure!’ was what his father had said. And last he heard, the man was still in a coma. Had been overwhelmed with shock after being abducted, then being told his wife was dead and his son had killed her. Irtar grimaced as he looked at the bottle and put it down, suddenly not feeling as thirsty as he had.

Irtar resumed cleaning up the mess he had left earlier. Before long, the room was back in good order. Save for that one bottle he left sitting on the counter.

How much does the past haunt and mock us?

Irtar spent the rest of the evening moving between thought, and meditating to try and focus what little power in the Force he could muster. He was still dedicated to trying to figure out this Jedi thing even if he had to do it on his own. Ambassadorial duties had begun to cut into his practicing time, but after a long day of art galleries and dealing with more tomorrow, he decided he might as well rub up a bit on his own.

He did hold a bit of jealousy towards the Vorn as he prepared to meditate. They seemed completely emotionally disconnected from everything but their art. And it was this lack of ability in Irtar that made him in his current position. Practicing on his own. The Jedi taught to be dispassionate and dedicated solely into the Force. But Irtar couldn’t sever his feelings for his family. He knew the reactions that’d it bring. That he was a risk to being overwhelmed with the ‘Dark Feelings’. That he would be doomed to fall.

And so he simply left.

No. Irtar forced himself to resolve himself. No matter what any of the other Jedi said, he would not fall to the Sith. He would find his own way to the Light. And with that resolve, Irtar sat down and prepared his nightly meditations to try and improve his skill at applying the Force.

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Irtar lay in bed, his body turning as a cold sweat began to consume his body. His eyes twitching and turning in their sockets as if desperately searching through his eyelids that clenched shut. His teeth ground, as he thrashed about as if from some unseen attacker. The great foe of dreams. The terror of nightmares.

Nightmares that had begun to grow ever since he had arrived on Vortex.

Nightmares of blood.

Of demons.

Of pain and suffering.

Symbols of religions long since thought abandoned by the rest of the galaxy. Bibles, and chanting in a lost tongue. Rituals unspeakable to most except in this realm of dreams. The terrors of a mind.

From the inferno of torture devices from ages past, and the beings dressed in crude suits to reflect their dark lords, came on clear thing. From the twisting inferno and nether of the Hell that had consumed his mind Irtar heard one thing ring clear.

The piercing shriek of a woman.

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Irtar more jumped out of bed than sat up. Holding tightly to his chest, the young Jedi shuddered as he reached to his night stand and grabbed the glass of water he left sitting there. He drank it quickly, letting the liquid douse his parched mouth. He was still shaking as he got out of his bed and threw on his shirt. He went in the living room and leaned against the couch for a moment as he tried to calm himself.

“It’s all… just a dream… nothing more….” Irtar confided in himself in an attempt to shake that lurking feeling from him. That feeling like a shadow lurking over him.

“Y’know! I’ll go for a walk! Yeah, Chao said I should see the town at night. Should be a lovely sight. No tourists in the way, and the lights playing on the crystals….” Irtar said in mock confidence as he stiffened up and grabbed his jacket and his boots. He tapped the inside pocket of the jacket to make sure his lightsaber was still there. It wasn’t the dream at all, he just liked to be safe. Taking the room key and putting it in his pocket, he proudly made his way out of the room.

The streets of the Vorn capitol were certainly interesting. The Vorn were quite strict on the external of any structure within their city. All building part of a greater whole. Though indeed there were buildings owned by various races in tourism and otherwise, on the outside each structure seemed Vorn in construction. The inside of the structures belonged (for the most part) to the building owners however so that’s why with some places you wouldn’t know. It was an odd place.

But Irtar couldn’t deny the magnificent reward for their labours.

The crystal lamps they used to illuminate the streets were beautiful, and the way they aligned it all. With a careful eye, he could follow the path of light as it flowed, reflected from one lamp to another, along the street. And the streets bore very little traffic at night, allowing a deep sense of serenity as one made their way along the streets. Wind chimes hanging from various places, catching the wind and creating a strange song as one made their path.

He didn’t know how he got there, but he heard it softly at first. A sweet melody upon the windy air. He made his way towards it, the closer he got the more windy it was. And Irtar realized something. The aerodynamics of the structures allowed them to harness and enhance the power of the wind. Creating great air-currents leading towards some central point.

And then, he stood before it. He should’ve known. It was so obvious when he arrived.

The Great Cathedral of the Wind.

The center of the Vorn Capital, civilization, and the air paths made by the city.

"Lance, it's Thomas. I've got a contact nearing your position...music must be getting to him."

Lance sighed as he toggled his comm to reply. "Can you identify him?"

A sigh greeted him in return, just as low. "Affirmative, sir; Irtar Mal'Gro. Works with the Coalition on occasion." Wincing at the potential reaction, Smith was hesitant about the next part. "He's a Jedi, sir."

There was a deafening silence on the comm for a few moments, enough that Lance honestly thought he'd died and gone to Hell. Instead, he was merely trying to bottle his anger in. Jedi... The last thing he really needed to deal with was a Jedi, and his anger at their kind--instinctive and trained-in as it was--would broadcast to the one approaching him, like a signal flare in the dead of night. How ironic, then, that it was night-time here near the Cathedral. The relative silence lasted for a few more seconds, the music of the Cathedral's wind-swept structure the only noise. "Let him pass," came the Major's voice, clearly choked with disdain.

Before he could close down the comm, another signal came. "Abram, sir. Bogey nearing the perimeter, slightly rapid pace. Cute little thing..." There was a slight break in the transmission as Angela's right hand slapped him in the back of the head for that comment. "Ow! Anyway..." he continued, throwing his girlfriend a sidelong glance, "incoming, unknown. Doesn't look armed... Should I intercept, sir?"

"Negative. Unarmed civvie in a public setting. Protocol, Tank... And good luck with Angel after that one." Closing down the comm, Lance tried his hardest to let the music take him...

...and then Irtar arrived. "Good evening," Lance said calmly to the Jedi in greeting, not bothering to turn and face the man. Sure, Eagle had spotted him coming a ways off, but that was at greater distance. Up close, the man's footsteps had been the more telling part of the story. "Nice night for a stroll, isn't it?"

In the major's mind, it went without saying that any night with a clear view was most certainly such a night. Of course, it didn't help him that he was here alone...Kathryn had always wanted to visit the Cathedral, to the extent that she'd planned on visiting during her maternity leave, just to see the sights. Suddenly, the music of the night seemed a little sadder for him.

It had been three days since the shuttle had landed, bringing her to this strange world and the even stranger people that lived on it. Everything was a pleasure to the eyes, from the architecture's outward form to the way the light played off of it in the clear sky, both at day and night. It was beauty beyond compare, an elegance that she'd never seen in anything else before.

Still, it had surprisingly little effect on what the young woman was thinking as she walked around the city for the third straight day. The voice in her head had told her to come to a place of peace and solitude...honestly, she couldn't have thought of a better place than Vortex. The ride here a few days ago, however, had been wretched. Almost everyone avoided her; those that didn't were the ones that seemed as if they knew her inner secret, and hurled scorn at her from all directions. Fortunately, it had lightened up on her arriving on the planet, and she'd had no troubles except for finding a place to stay for the past few nights.

Peace and solace, indeed... Save for the music, everything was perfectly quiet, and the music seemed to make the place all the more soothing. As far as she was concerned, this is the planet the voice had meant, without a doubt. Everything felt...peaceful.

Still, there was something tugging at the back of her mind, something that felt amiss, out of place. Something she couldn't identify, but that felt strangely familiar... No... It couldn't have.

Holonet News:



Six Squadrons of warships joined the Anselm Reclamation Task Force two days ago in response to the world of Glee Anselm seems to have been the victim of a vicious biological or chemical sneak attack. According to some sources, the enemy sought to drive the population away and perhaps pirate civilian patents and/or military technology. The League of Nations' Charter empowers member worlds to provide aid in times of distress, a requirement that was put before the Empire by Vortex LON Representative (and Loyalist Member) Bal. In a stunning oration by Bal, the Imperial LON Representative Maximillian Jaeder was persuaded to acknowledge the 'Debt of Responsibility' to Glee Anselm. Representative Bal was one of the chief architects in the core response that lead directly to the creation of the Reclamation Task Force.

In other news...

[font=Tahoma]And just as strangely as she drew closer and closer to the cathedral, the disturbed young woman began to wander away, still dazed and confused. Everything was a blur tinted by darkness...isolation, shadows, emptiness; they all sought to close in on her, as if they wanted her dead instead of alive and endangered by their power. She could feel their hateful energies pressing down on her, forcing her down a path of even more darkness, the road along it uncertain underneath her feet.

Outside this dark fantasy, she came to a lonely street, where there were but a few of the houses that seemed so prevalent in the local architecture. One of them served as a home for a vacationing group of human tourists who were packing some food for a walk over to the Cathedral. The realm of dreams and nightmares, however--of angels and devils, as she'd learned some time ago, in one of the more sinister ways fate could deliver--showed her still nothing but the great void of darkness, despair, and pain. "Hear me," came the same cold, wretchedly hateful voice as before, the depth in it revealing nothing but the same feeling of moribund existence. "Hear me, and take heed."

What do you want with me? she asked, her thoughts reeling from the wave of sin that had washed over her. Why can't you just leave me alone?

There was a deep rumble, as if the spirit of darkness were laughing at some inside joke...something that seemed amusing, at the very least, to the beast itself. "Why should I abandon you, young one? Why should I abandon my daughter?"

No... The very idea of what those words meant caused Thess to drop to her knees in fear and anguish, her thoughts becoming nothing but those of panic and perverse terror. What was she to make of this? Her parents--were they really her parents now?--had told her of the curse, of how she'd been perfected in that test-tube only because of the damned utterances of a madman...but this? To be called 'daughter' by the very spirit she had long sought to flee from, long feared and hated as the purveyor of the same spiritual damnation she'd fought so hard to undo? No... What sort of torture is this!? Why do you lie to me!?

"What reasons, my precious, would I have to lie to you? You are my child; you have been since the moment of your conception. Join me, my dear...we needn't hide from each other any more." Somehow, the demonic entity knew that it wasn't entirely convincing, that the truth was failing to completely sink in.. "I can help you understand, my child...just come with me. All shall be made clear."

Before she could ask any more questions, there came an unwelcome sensation: a hand resting itself on her shoulder, out in the world of the living...the sane. Angrily, she brought her head around so that her eyes could take in the fiend who had dared to violate her privacy, only to find that she still couldn't see...except through the veil of darkness that covered her thoughts. Evil became all she saw, for it was all she could feel within her soul, which now lay wholly devoted to the beast that called itself her father.

"Are you alright?" came the strange woman's concerned voice, this also deformed and twisted by the evil that ebbed and flowed within the kneeling woman's soul.

And through this darkness, there came no outward response. Green eyes narrowed coldly as the young woman remained quiet, still knelt down on the ground, still listening to the voice in her head as she gave herself to it. "They would shatter us...break us apart, and in so doing, destroy us. Please, my child, you must stop this! DESTROY THEM!"

Thess' thoughts were both sinister and crystal-clear in intent. It shall be done, father. They shall know fear...and they shall embrace death. With an inhuman cry of rage, she lunged upwards with her right hand, the fingernails clawing into the other woman's abdomen and rending through flesh. Another vicious jerk, and the hand tore upwards, rending flesh open and coming deathly close to cleaving through organs. Blood began to seep everywhere, showering down on the ground in a torrent of slowly-ending life.

So absorbed was Thess in her murderous work, she couldn't even see her victim's husband charging at her until his fist connected square on with her head, sending her spinning a few paces away. Within a split-second, she regained control of her motion and senses, and stormed right back to the scene of her violent acceptance of the darkness. The woman was injured, leaving her husband as the logical target. Even as he got up, he was already being attacked, the hateful strike digging into his torso and pushing as hard as possible. The strength of the dark spirit inside her fueled the attack with its own power, and the punch easily shattered the man's ribs, the wicked woman's fingernails clawing into his heart and rending it with their ferocity.

As she withdrew her hand from his chest, he fell to the ground in a heap, writhing and sputtering curses with the last of his breath. Thess simply ignored him, moving instead to her other victim, to finish the deed. Surely, the noise must have attracted onlookers, and from there, the attentions of the police. It became imperative to finish the job fast, before they could arrive and cause...problems. As such, not much was done to the woman beyond the finishing strike, a blow of such force that it tore several organs apart. Whether or not she lived...was no longer an issue.

With the two victims unconscious and their souls screaming in moribund anguish, Thess turned and ran, heading away from the Cathedral as fast as she could. There was a small starport nearby; she could stop for a bit, clean off her arm from the massive amounts of blood on it, and get off this rock.
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“Hrm?” Irtar said, looking towards the figure that spoke to him. He wore military colours, but nothing blatant. No chevrons or badges or other symbols of authority. More along the lines of how some do as a fashion statement more than anything. “Oh, yes. The city is rather beautiful at night. And the cathedral is quite captivating… You notice the way the crystals use the night a lot better in the night.”

“The Vors have a-” The ambassador began when all of a sudden he heard a defined female scream add discord to the music of the night. As if on instinct Irtar bolted towards it. Whatever was happening, it was close. He didn’t pay attention to the other man on the street though he knew it’d questionable his running off but he didn’t care.

People generally didn’t let out a bloodcurdling scream with no reason.

The main roads of the Vor were well kept, but the side alleys that were out of the way and not a common place for tourists were just as dirty as anywhere else. Irtar was more driven as to find out where the scream had come from and to help whoever was in trouble rather than take the easy path. Over boxes, around dumpsters, and as fast as he could, Irtar made his way forward. He came screeching around a corner of an alley back onto the main road and was immediately frozen in his tracks. He was expecting something like a mugging but this….

The wall that the woman leaned up against was covered in blood. She lay against it, labouring for every breath like it was her last, which they likely were. A man lay near her flat on his back. His chest tore open like a rusty fence. Bits of flesh lay in clumps on the street as people had begun to yell. Some yelling for an ambulance and others out of fear.
Irtar turned away, but as he turned he couldn’t help it as the smells assaulted him. The coppery tang of blood battered his nostrils. Irtar felt weak at the weight of it all. He had never seen anything like this before. He had been broken, and involved when a ship got destroyed, but nothing like this. Nothing this cruel or malicious.

Irtar gagged and felt his dinner trying to force its way back up from stomach. The ambassador fell weak against one of the lampposts; his body feeling all of a sudden like a great tide was overtaking him. Like he was beginning to sink into a sea of darkness. He knew what this was, and struggled against it. The thoughts going through his mind were broken by raspy voice.

“Sh-sh-she….” The horribly maimed woman managed to stammer out. Irtar forced himself to steady. Carefully he walked towards her, cooing.

“Calm down… save your strength… an ambulance will be here soon….” Irtar said as he made every effort to avoid the blood and the fleshy bits that littered the ground. He came up beside her. His stomach battered against his throat, and he swallowed. Keeping his meal at bay with a force of will. “Now… now just calm… calm down…”

“Sh-she… killed T-ttttom. Ran… There….” The woman muttered, raising a blood stained hand from her abdomen and pointing off weakly down the road. Irtar quickly grabbed her hand, and guided it back to her stomach.

“Calm down… an ambulance will be coming soon… ju-just…” Irtar said desperately as he tried his best not to look at the woman. Feeling the warmth of her blood on his hands. His face pale as he tried his best to not look at her. Trying to put himself somewhere else.

“Sh-she… she… tom….” Her voice trailed off as her tear filled eyes slowly closed and the rasping of her breath faded off to nothing. And Irtar could swear he could feel it as her life energy just slowly, with one final ebb, came out of her body. Irtar just sat there, in silence. Feeling her fluids cool against his hand.

There was no thought. There was no movement. There was nothing.

No more urge to vomit.

No more worry about the smell of blood.

No more concern on the scattered bits of flesh.

Not even want to catch the killer.

Nothing but the silent abyss her life once filled.

He didn’t know how long he was there until he heard the echoing in his mind of feet on the street.

[font=Georgia]That it is[/font][font=Georgia], Lance thought, already breaking into a run behind the Jedi. When people aren't having issues... When the issues came to this magnitude--a scream of terror--there was ground for alarm. When they were enough to invoke a reaction of what seemed like panic and worry from a Jedi...they were serious, and to a level most people didn't want to consider.

With nothing more than a simple glance up to the sniper's nest near the Cathedral, Lance was off at his own sprint, not at all surprised that Irtar was putting a respectable mound of distance on him. It had to be the extra bit of power that the Force gave him doing something...otherwise, the young sprat would probably be far behind by now, instead of far ahead. Such was a matter for later, however, after the situation with the scream was resolved...if a resolution could be found.

That was when it hit him--where the scream had come from, to be specific. His old friend had moved here about a year or so ago, just to get away from the nightmares of combat after far too many years. Old friend... And that, soldier, is why I made you my executive officer. I trusted you, to the very end. This was the neighborhood that he and his wife had moved to... Their home away from death...away from blood...away from everything that had threatened to tear them apart and end their existence, both as individuals and as a couple. This neighborhood...

...was home to the scream. He could hear Eagle calling over the comm, wondering what the Hell was going on, but Lance ignored it like it was nothing but a whispering breeze back home at Coronet. He could already feel the worry in his soul, and his mind put a damning image to it: Staff-Sergeant Thomas Matthews, friend and compatriot, lying dead at the hands of stars-knew-what.

Fear leads to anger.

A panic had settled in his heart as the commando continued to tear through the town, running as fast as his legs could carry him, heading straight to the sound of the continued screams and other sounds of terror, the sight of a mob of frightened people. His line of sight was blocked initially, the throng of people too dense for him to see through it without pushing people aside. "Excuse me," he said to the nearest one as he slowed down just enough to almost glide through the crowd. The tone of his voice was cold enough that those who heard it practically jumped to the side...

...and, as the crowd parted and the view became clear, Lance could feel his heart sink, and his motion stopped. His friend...his friend's wife... both of them dead. No... Dammit, someone is going to pay for this!

Anger leads to hate.

It took a few seconds for cognizance of the outside world to return to him, and he finally realized that, over the two--maybe three--deaths that had just happened, he could feel a tear falling down his face. Suppressing an angry roar, he made his way slowly over to Irtar, trying not to step on anything as he did. When he finally was close enough to speak, his voice was an iced whisper that seemed to scream for vengeance in a voice louder than anything there, just in how low and cold it was. "I hope what I heard about her in the man's last letter wasn't true... If it was, so help me, someone's gonna die for this." The Force would fill the Jedi Knight in on the missing details easily enough, and Lance was personally not in the mood to tell anyone. Sighing, he grabbed his comm-link from inside one of his pockets, dialing a group frequency. "Threat alert: Orange. Squadron, regroup outside the Cathedral, gear up, and get ready for some policing. We have a double-homicide, and the murderer is on the loose."
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It took a moment for Irtar to get a grasp on reality again. He stood up quietly, not even giving attention to the man kneeling near him, looking at the corpse and shedding a quiet tear. His hand subconsciously reached into his jacket and pulled forth his lightsaber. His arm fell quietly to his side, the blood from the freshly slain victims of some unknown killer staining the silver-toned hilt.

And just as before, he simply took off, his face not baring a single tone of emotion. What kind of monster could do something like this? What kind of beast would slaughter with no reason a pair of innocent people in such a matter? More importantly, it was addressed as a 'she'. Was it a person that did this? Or did it just look like a person?

Irtar's mind was entirely elsewhere of his body as he made his way down the street. Down where the woman had pointed. Through the streets he simply ran, just... running away. Hoping to find some trace of the thing that had done it. And that's when all of a sudden he heard it.

you should not play with the darkness, little flame

"What? Who said that?" Irtar called out, into the street. His body and mind finally reunited from the shock of this icey voice in his mind. The streets were empty, and for some odd reason it seemed as if the lights were more dim here. Irtar pulled his lightsaber to bare at the ready. This all seemed so familiar somehow but he couldn't place where.

Then he felt it. In the darkness he felt them. It was like seeing the streams of light that flowed from point to point in the city, but instead of lights focused by crystal it was... darkness. Darkness flowing out from some central point to these beacons that dimmed everything around them. Or was this shadow flowing into some central point?

Irtar didn't have much time to debate or think about this shadow that suddenly overwhelmed him when he heard a roar of anger. It echoed along the streets, amplified by the Vors structures. Irtar's face turned white as he turned around to see behind him this hulking form. He couldn't describe what it was.

It was like something from a nightmare. Flesh hung loosely from the creature in tendrils. The being was jet black, save for a glaring maw of white teeth. Irtar was paralyzed with fear as he watched the being slowly make its way towards him.

we warned you little flame to not play with us

"I-I..." Irtar muttered out as he slowly backed up for each step the monster took. Suddenly, it lashed out and Irtar ducked his head out of fear. He heard the thing charged and then...

Nothing?

Irtar slowly opened his eyes, as if worried to what he'd see. But all he found was an empty street. Not even a sign of the beast he'd just seen. Irtar's hands would be white from how hard they were clutching to his lightsaber hilt if not for the red blood. Irtar shook his head and ran off towards where he had seen that point of shadow. It had to be something.

Or was he just going insane?

[font=Tahoma]And so it went that the demons continued to torment her inside the dark, desolate fortress of her mind, yielding to her only thoughts of hatred and scorn for all around her; wretchedness and decay spewing forth in every last uttered syllable. Still, despite their assaults, she could see well enough through the haze of madness to know that the voices were guiding her to some sort of starport, likely to secure some sort of passage off-planet, and lead her to some other place...somewhere safer than here, what with what she'd done.

Her mind's prison was strong, and the beasts kept her there as they made her run on their shadowed path, throwing her through turn after turn into the darkness of confusion. Freedom was almost in sight, and they drove her to such madness that she was completely unaware of her surroundings as she ran towards the ramp of the nearest parked shuttle, not even caring whoever owned it.

His surprise and anger were fully focused on her as she clambered up the loading ramp, nearly passing out at the top. He would have said something, too, had the blood on her arm not convinced him otherwise. It was an effort from her to move fast enough to catch him, but her arms wrapped tightly around him before he could even become visible on the ramp, hauling him back in with the same strength that had helped them tear through human flesh earlier. At the same time, a set of claw-like fingers reached up to his throat, hovering there menacingly. "Anywhere but this planet...NOW." Her voice was cold, almost sinister, as she spoke, and the closeness of the fingernails to his neck and the vein pulsing visibly inside it made him comply.

Before long, the shuttle was lifting off.
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