Darth Furion

As he expected, one of the Nightsisters fell from the veil some distance away. He waited for more, but none showed up. To his surprise, this one even reached out to him to alert him to her presence.Curious. Rose only gave him an odd look, but soon found herself spinning about to look through a narrow path to the same woman that Julio had spoken to before. I figured you'd come after me. Well, not you specifically, but someone. He was shouting back at her, just loud enough it would catch her ear. You can tell them to hide as long as they want, it wont make a difference.

A couple kilometers out, Julio veered from his first path to walk through the forest in case he was being followed for an ambush. In the forest he could protect Rose better if need be. "Daddy, what was that about?" He sighed heavily, the toll of such high emotion still on his shoulders. Two hurt people unwavering in their pain, sweety. That's all. He probably could have handled that better. Probably should have. But he was Dark Lord now, wasn't he? After a lifetime of struggle and clawing for power, hadn't he deserved just a little respect? Couldn't people just see him as Julio instead of the Order he belonged to? He sighed softer this time, shrugging it off as if it didn't matter. Whatever was supposed to happen happened. There was no new variations of the path bombarding his mind, his vision clear and crisp as always. The vision remained in tact. So what was that about? Why did he just lose himself there? "It didn't feel like that. It felt like something more." Her voice, even on such a dark subject, broke him from his self destructive trance. Oh no? He said, chuckling softly. And what did it feel like, my young apprentice? The new title sent her reeling, but she quickly focused herself and tried to articulate the feeling into words. "It was like...like you both were talking, but not to each other. Or not even at one another. It just felt like raw emotion pouring out of a glass and spilling wherever it landed. But you tipped each others glasses over, so it spilled on to both of you." Very clever, little fox. The pride was thick in his voice but he didn't have to force it. Yes, that is something like what happened. We didn't really discuss anything. They paused in the forest so Julio could listen and feel if they were being followed or not. Rose, knowing full well her father's mannerisms, just remained silent and as still as possible and simply let him feel about.

His smile dropped to a scowl. I'll say again, I am not those Sith. I am not walking in ignorance and baseless hate. My path is much more refined than that of Geki or Haphaestus, or that mad Hutt. You call me slave, you look down upon me, and you expect respect from me, as if I owe you anything. He was seething now, but a soft tug at his jacket sleeve to his left, and instantly it all washed away as he turned to see the wide-eyed little girl next to him, terrified by what she saw as a mountain ready to transform into a volcano. He took a few slow, even breaths and closed his eyes while his left hand thumbed a couple beads of his rosary. I came here today to extend a mutually beneficial offer from the Sith to the Nightsisters of Dathomir, the terms of which to be negotiated between myself and the matron or her representative. But if you insist on judging me in ignorance rather than seek to understand me, you're no better than the Jedi. I do not know what suffering you've endured, and I wont lie to you and say that I'm sorry for it. We have all struggled in our own time, but do I blame you for the women that have wronged me? Do I blame you for those that have treated me like shit? I do not know you, nor do I know of those that damaged you. But I do not make the mistake of assuming I do. This was rediculous. Why had he even come here at all. There had to be something, some reason the visions pulled him to this place in time. Was it just this? This short exchange to remind him of something important? The question didn't matter, because all he could do right now was breath slowly and count his beads. Words didn't get thought out like usual, they just spilled. As if his mind was too full of his passions to leave any room for words. He didn't hide them, he didn't hide anything from these people he tried to connect with. But they left no room for him, left no room for anyone but themselves. I could have given you strength, could have given you everything you needed to make your clan thrive. He looked her in the eyes for the first time, his own gold meeting those deep, painful pools of rich brown. So much anger, so much hatred for 'his kind' that it blinded her to everything else. Come on, darling. We're going. He reached out to take Rose by the hand and turn from them, disgusted.

Suffering covered her like a fine coat, though she wore it sourly. Physical, emotional, spiritual, the pain was so intense in blurred itself into one beautiful thing. A sharpness that was unmistakable to the Dark Lord. I am indeed a Sith, but I'd rather you look at me as an individual like any other. He couldn't help but let at least one sour note cry out before pulling the smile back up. He hated being called Sith like it was the entirety of his existence. More than any other insult anyone could throw at him, judging him on that one aspect alone undermined everything he was as a person. My name is Julio Furion, and this is my daughter Rose. He turned the attention momentarily to his daughter so that she may nod her head in respect. And I am the Dark Lord of the Sith. I'm currently working on fixing some...flaws...within the order, and was hoping I could take a bit of your time to discuss a few things. He looked side to side, carefully eying the Nightsisters flanking him. Preferably in private, but if you trust these women then out here will do just fine.

Ah, yes. Julio said, still smiling. "He's not my slave." Rose said, quickly realizing she was being addressed. "He's my father." I'm sorry, ladies, but we are not from this planet. Your ways are unfamiliar to us. Still, I must ask. Would you please reach your matron for me, or someone of authority I may speak with? Rose flashed him a curious, urgent look, not fully understanding the situation but muscles tightened in anticipation none the less. Don't worry, Darling. They don't like men around here, is all. This of course didn't ease her mind, but she let her tension visibly release. Julio remained calm with his hands clasped idly before him.

From beyond the stench of rotting death something peculiar yet all too familiar cut through the malaise. Hunger and desperation, pain and suffering, the spices of life that drove a soul to seek out, no matter what it was. Come. He was beginning to detach now, to separate her from him and raise the mask of friendly civility. No matter who fought here, one of the groups had to be near by, and the Dark Lord thought he felt the delectable sensations radiating from just over the hill. Through the bodies he and his daughter tread, vile putridity inconsequential to the task at hand. When they mounted the hill's summit, they looked down upon a small camp. Witches Julio thought to himself, feeling their distinguished magicks from even there. It was a Darkness not unlike his own in some respects, yet tied itself to foreign ideas and feelings. Down the hill and toward the cusp of the camp, he knew they would sense the pair of them soon. He restrained himself, but made no offer to hide from this group. He was here on neutral business, in no way out for blood. He didn't want to draw any, at least that much was certain. Hello there! He called out joyfully as threw his hand high in the air and waved freely at a girl not much older than Rose nearer the edge of the camp. Would you go tell your matron we would like a word? He was yelling still, trying to get the message across before getting too near. If there was a sudden shift in mood, from this distance he could feel it and have enough time to make a break for it. At least far enough to get Rose out.

We've been waiting, young Sith. Just as Tobias punched in his coordinates and was free from the planet's hold, the voice skittered into his skull like a thousand spiders, each one stringing the web in a different direction. Before even fear or confusion could enter in to his next heartbeat his world went black. The acolyte the Sith had sent had been waiting on him for some time in Tobias' personal ship, knowing he would one day return. None escaped the watchful eye of the Dark Lord. ((Feel free to post at Spite Station. There's no damage from this, only a loss of consciousness.))

Breaking through atmosphere, Julio passed over controls to Rose so he could focus for a moment on where to land. He had never been to Dathomir before, though had always been curious about the home planet of the woman his father chose instead of his own mother. The witch, Ronin had affectionately called her, though Julio wasn't certain if he was being literal, or if he was being polite. Polite didn't sound like Ronin, so the validity of the claim had always been in question for the Sith. He had read reports on the planet, basic terrain, flora and fauna, and historical accounts of the planet, but still he had never been there himself. Reputedly the planet's sentient population was quite low, and most of those lived in a remote section of the beautiful planet. Curious. Feeling the planet himself for the first time, he could sense great power here, though it was the same feeling one got at any other planet teaming with life. Neither light, nor dark, but blossoming just the same. Yet there was something calling to him, something terrible and dark. There. He said without opening his eyes, pointing to a plot on the map. A few kilometers out from there, and we'll ride in. "What's there, daddy?" Death, it feels like. But its not as strong as it once was. I think we missed out on something vital. He cursed under his breath, waiting to be flooded by the rapidly changing visions to rattle off in his head and threaten to split him in two. But nothing came. No change had occured. Everything felt as it should have been. Rose shifted uneasily in her seat, easing the yolk down toward the appointed destination. "What are we looking for?" I don't know. I'm looking for a few things, but they feel secondary in nature. There's something important I'm supposed to do here. Rose didn't ask anymore questions. She didn't like his obscurity as much as he did, and she had far less faith or understanding in this path the Dark Lord had set himself upon nearly eight years ago. She didn't say anything the rest of the ride in. As records stated, Dathomir was indeed beautiful, almost elegant in its diversification of terrain. Most planetest held one type of terrain, one ecosystem for the inhabitants to deal with or thrive in, but here there was nearly everything. Mountains, rivers, oceans, desserts, frozen tundras. Absolutely beautiful was what was underneath what the eye saw. Life, so much life. "Pretty." Rose said lightly as she brought the transport in for a landing. Her reluctance in the tone told him that she could feel the death as well, though likely didn't realize what it was she was feeling. To her it was just a bad feeling. They exited the shuttled together and walked in stride toward the location Julio had pointed to on the map. The scent of rotting corpses was strong out on the open plains, but he could tell that it was not just beasts that had been slain. Human blood had a sweeter scent. When they came upon the onslaught, Rose had to cover her mouth and nose, but she stood next to him stoicly. Julio only stood still, his golden eyes surveying the carnage like a finished canvas. There was too much blood for this many bodies, even if they were hulking masses of Rancors and some other unidentifiable creature. The crime scene had been cleaned up. "What happened here?" Struggle, my dear. Sweet, absolute struggle.

"Daddy." Rose said tenuously from the co-pilot chair. Yes, sweety? He knew what was coming before she said it, but didn't quite know why. Intuition perhaps, or his most recently realized fears coming to life before him. Either way, the time for indecisiveness had passed. "You're the Dark Lord now, right? I mean...everyone has to do what you say and stuff." Yes... He gave back just as hesitantly, wondering what was going on in that teenage mind of hers. But in hearing his hesitation, her heart began to race. She knew he knew, or at least had an idea of the direction she was going, so soft steps were no longer required. In all her years with him, Rose knew Julio didn't hesitate. His determination was solid and his path always set. It was in these exceedingly rare moments when she found him persuadable, so she wasted no time. "Well, that means you don't have to work so hard to protect me anymore, right? No one would come after me now that you're the strongest." Quite the opposite, my darling. Now because of my position you are in more danger than ever. I may rule over them, but only because I am strong enough to do so. They will plot, and plan, and grow stronger themselves to one day take my position. If anything, now I have to train harder than ever to keep what is mine. She knew he wasn't talking about the mantle of Dark Lord, or his power. His only real concern was for her. "But I don't want you to have to protect me anymore. You spend so much time looking after me that you don't get to do anything fun for yourself! I want to be strong like you, and protect myself so that you don't have to." He broke away from the console for a moment to flash her that sly smile she loved so much. That's the way of life, Rose. If I am not strong enough to protect you, then I do not deserve you. "And If I'm not strong enough to protect my own life, I don't deserve it either, do I?" Ouch. It hurt to hear the truth come out of her own mouth, spoken in that soft, childlike voice of her's. He knew it to be completely counter-intuitive to what he believed in, but Julio had always wanted Rose to stay blissfully ignorant of the truth of things, to live a happy life even if it meant being weak for it. The days Julio considered himself happy since he started on this path long ago were few and far between, and a great many of them were because of Rose. He sat silent, just staring at her in her beautiful wisdom, at a loss for words. "What do you think I've done all these years every time you had to leave me? I studied, and I practiced just like you always do. I read the same old dusty tomes you did, I sat through the lessons your collection of holocrons had to teach me. If you're worried that I'll lose my childhood, you're too late daddy. I gave up that ignorance long, long ago." He was baffled, completely taken aback. How had he not known about all this, about his own daughter?! He knew the answer was in their long times apart, but it still didn't make sense. How had he not felt the change in her, this sudden, strong change that turned a curly blond haired little girl into the young woman standing before him? His mind was racing, looking back through nearly a decade of exchanges between them to find the subtle differences, but all he could see was his little girl. Rose, how did you... "The weak deserve their fate. Isn't that right, daddy? Regardless of whether or not you can protect me, my fate is my own, and whatever happens to me happens because I am not strong enough to stop it." Her words were stronger now, forceful, as if she knew in her heart what she was saying was true. She was saying his words, the very same faith behind the words, unwavering and unquestionable. Whatever changes she had hidden from him, conscious or not, were now freely pouring out now as if she had been damming it up for years, desperate to tell him. "If you do not train me to be a Sith, if you don't let me grow strong, you're as good as killing me yourself." She wasn't angry, just spoken matter-of-factly. And she was right. About all of it. There wasn't a think he could say to counter her that wouldn't be arbitrary. You're right. He shot in before her desperate explainations ran on, silencing her for the moment as she waited to hear more, to hear the full extent of his decision and how she had managed to persuade him. When we get back, you'll stand in line with the rest of the apprentices and take rites like everyone else. His words were heavy, nearly defeated, but despite he just jumped at him, throwing her arms around his neck and squeezing with all her might. "Oh thank you, Daddy! Thank you thank you thank you thank you!" This means things will change between us, you realize. He was hurt. She could hear it in his voice. "I know, but it was inevitable." She was beaming at him when she pulled away. "But you'll always be my father." And you'll always be my daughter. The ship split out of hyperspace, and the Dark Lord and his daughter begain their descent.

The Corusca Gem fell out of hyperspace in perfect line within the narrow parameters of the Maw's narrow passage, and was immediately hailed by the station hanging against the blackness in this tiny pocket of space. Julio transferred the correct keywords and guided the ship in for docking. We're home, my brothers and sisters. Get yourselves settled in and I will be back shortly. Get to know one another before we truly take our first steps toward greatness. He left the ship, and moved through the hanger. He could feel her, knew she was coming but let her jump him anyway, just to see that smile. "Daddy!" Her arms were around his neck in a flash, her body swinging freely as her feet dangled a foot off the ground. "I thought you said you were going to be gone for a long time?!" She said in hurried excitement as if her birthday had come early this year. I thought so, but I guess it wasn't meant to be. He smiled at her. She gave him the most curious look, as if he had said something completely uncharacteristic, but lost it in his smile and returned it just as fiercely. "Good. I didn't want you with those stupid Jedi anyway. You wouldn't have been happy at all." You're right. I wouldn't have. But I do have to leave again. Her face melted to dread. "How long?" A few days. Wanna come with me? "Yes!" She said without a moment's hesitation. He took her by the hand, much bigger than it used to be, and walked her from one hanger to another down the hall where his personal ship waited, what was going to be her ship when he had planned to leave for possibly forever. Rose was fourteen now, growing into a young woman. Every day he spent with her he knew the day had come that he would have to stop treating her like a child and begin her training, but every day his told himself tomorrow, knowing tomorrow wouldn't come. Now not only was tomorrow coming, but he counted on it, hoped for it. The reasons differed and conflicted with his dreams for her. Both were selfish. As they boarded The Chameleon, pacified passengers would begin ushering themselves off the luxury liner into the slave pens, his fellow Sith not far behind. ((Find your rooms, get settled in, do as you will until I get back. I've got to stop to make.))

The ship was everything a normal person could ever dream of. A little space of absolute luxury removed from the wear and tear of everyday life. Nothing to worry about, no rigid schedules to uphold, every need and want at your fingertips. Most of all, no one trying to step over you and take what was yours. Truly a place of oblivious happiness in a galaxy wrought by suffering. The faces of men and women around him wore nothing but smiles and laughed freely, and children ran and played in their naive splendor. Everything was perfect in this world apart. He couldn't help but think Rose would love it here, but instantly regretted it as the sourness of that note struck in the chorus of his mind. Lingering on her memory summoned a macabre dirge in his ears, a deprecating hymn to his self loathing. Julio had always done what he considered was necessary, the ends justifying the means, but that was always to do right by himself. Questions constantly plagued his troubled mind as to what was right by his daughter. There was no question that the weak deserved their fate, and that one did not deserve what they could not protect, so his love for her had always seemed a continuation of his already laid out path. Become stronger, always stronger, so that he could keep and protect the one he loved. However, in doing so he had largely neglected her in many respects. Birthdays, important events, and time in general had always been sacrificed for that goal of power and freedom, but what had it cost them? There was no doubt in his mind the little girl loved him completely and without a shred of doubt in her heart, but had he felt the same? Did a father abandon his daughter to protect her, or did he spend every waking moment making her stronger? Victim of his own neglectful father, Julio couldn't settle on an answer. And that, more than any other worry, tortured him. For the first few days, the Dark Lord spent time wandering the halls of the ship, idly watching people come and go and the blissful thoughts dominant in their worry free heads. Mask of the Jedi held firm, he wore it like any other mask before. He wore them naturally, comfortably, as if they were his very self, but as always it was nothing but a lie. A lie the flock would never see through. Fools with pliant minds and ignorant acceptance. It wasn't entirely their fault, though. Julio couldn't hate them for the complacency in their lives they had been taught to so readily fall into. It was simply the nature of today's society and the accumulative upbringing of generation after generation of not knowing the truth. Their lives were lies built upon lies, so deep and interwoven it became a messy blur of confusion and misdirection. Though he understood them, he in no way pitied them. The strong would find the truth on their own, and the weak would be left to their abysmal fate. It was simply the way. Late at night when the crowds from the casinos and bars would stumble their way to their rooms for sleep the mask fell off and he was once again free to be himself. In the senatorial suite Julio was alone, a condition he was both accustomed to and loved. Though he was never truly free from the prying perceptions of his brothers cruising with him, here he was at least veiled by walls and the mass gathering of life around them. The Dark Lord needed little sleep anymore, a couple hours of meditation sufficient enough to ease the day's wear on his physical form. To fill the hours he practiced, always practicing. For a couple hours he would lay in bed and let his mind drift to the dreams of others on the ship, swimming through seas of subconscious to stare into the deeply constructed egos fabricated through individuals' lives. Layers upon layers of psychosis, fears, confusions, misunderstandings, all vivid and bright in their slumber. Julio walked through their dreams with the softest steps as if the roads to their deepest secrets were paved in air. When he tired of this he slipped away back to the limited confines of his room to practice more substantial skills. Pushing aside the room's expensive and brightly colored furniture with a brush of his hand, the Sith stood in center of the opening. His body took on the form of a ready stance from one of the newer styles of martial arts from a world in the far reaches of the galaxy. He could feel his skin spark and his muscles tighten in anticipation as the energy in his body began to flow to his fingertips to the tips of his toes. He willed the energy to move as he moved, flowing easily with the body as they became one. Moving through the well versed moves, he unexpectedly broke into something completely different. This style was wider than the first, his arms flying wide as his feet stepped quickly to change placement. Not two exchanges in it switched again without any physical signs of warning, as his legs now seemed to become predominant in snap kicks three or four at a time, all in a blink of an eye. Four hours this continue, progressing in speed and frequency of changing form. Lashing out with an Echani strike before breaking into an Ataru block, through to a parry as of yet unseen in the cacophony of deadly strikes. And all the while his inner energy flowed with him in perfect synchronization, changing direction without conscious thought as Julio poured himself into the dance of death. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The appointed day came and once again he donned the mask of the famed Jedi Master. On this evening, however, he did not watch the passengers enjoy their wasted lives. Instead Julio moved to a previously unexplored part of the ship. The bridge. He had never seen the bridge on this kind of vessel before, and though he knew on the days leading up to this night that he would need to be inside it shortly, he didn't dare compromise the mission by tipping anyone off to his intentions snooping around too much. There was no need to scout it out because there would be nothing to scout. The bridge, this ship, was already his. The crew and passengers were his guests, living their last free days without any knowledge of it. In their unknowing they lived out the last few memories of happiness they would ever have again. They just didn't know it yet. Three soft knocks on the door was all the Dark Lord needed to gain entry. It slid open and there were no armed guards on the other side, no tension prefacing violence in the faces or shoulders of the handful of crew manning this shift. Instead there was only bright smiles at the hero of the republic, the former Grand Admiral, the Jedi Master their minds so eagerly saw. "Good evening, Master Starlisk! We were wondering if you would do us the honor of a visit anytime soon. When word got out that you were on board, the captain wanted to send you an invitation to dine with us immediately, but decided against it. 'Surely he wants some peace and quiet' he said." "Stand down, ensign, before you suck up all the Master Jedi's air." The captain chuckled, and the young lad quickly took a step back to his post awaiting command, still beaming at the sight of the Jedi. "I'm sorry about Rogers," He continued, his smile just as wide beneath his thick, bushy mustache. "He hasn't stopped talking about you and your party since we got the news. He was right, though. We are glad to have you aboard." The pleasure is all mine, captain. You command quite a vessel. Julio stepped further into the bridge, taking it all in. The door he came in was the only one, and there were but seven men on the bridge with him, including the captain. Only two officers and the captain himself had sidearms, though the ones on the officers' belts were serviced recently, and polished. The captains looked like an old relic, and likely hadn't been out of its holster in a decade. All of this was gleaned in a fraction of a second as Julio took the quick glance. To them he was just taking in the sights like any other wide eyed passenger. I must say I'm impressed. I'm so used to military designs, but this...this is truly a work of art. "We are honored, Master Starlisk." The captain raised his hand to his chest and gave a soft bow, either in show of Onderin's military service, or a sign of respect for the Order he represented. Please, call me Onderin. Julio said, raising the captain quickly with a soft hand. Where are we on our present course? "If you'll come this way, I'll show you." The captain was smiling now, so glad to be so informal with one so reputed. They moved to the navicomputer where a bright holo-projection rose from the console. "We're currently passing Talus, on our way around the inner rim toward Naboo, where we'll take our first stop." Throughout the ship began the assault. Word, one way or another, would reach the bridge shortly. Excellent. Right on schedule. He let the mask slip, and for the first time in public on the ship he was free to be Julio. "Yes, we're..." As the captain looked up confusion struck him, suddenly looking upon the face of a complete stranger. "Wha...where did..." He didn't have time to complete the confounding thought before he reached for his throat, choking desperately for the air Julio callously denied him. Everyone else on the bridge followed suit, falling to their knees or out of their seats as the Dark Lord reached out to seal their fate. He placed his hand on the captain's forehead, diving deep into his mind to violently rend it to shreds, disassembling identity and memory just to find a few key bits of vital information before letting the man collapse to the floor. All around Julio men gagged and clawed at their own throats, frantic and panic stricken. With a few quick keystrokes the ship fell out of hyperspace and began turning toward a new plot. While the ship adjusted, Julio searched through the systems to disable any tracking devices it may have, then reengaged the hyperdrive. With the last few death rattles, Julio sat down on the floor in the midst of the dying and began to stretch out his mind to the yet living crew and passengers, driving complacency and lethargy deep into their minds to override any sense of self preservation they clung to. For the remainder of the journey he would continue his work on them, and one by one they too would become his. Just like this ship.

Prisoner protocol dictated Uriel be treated as any other would. Stripped of all personal effects and combed down through a series of bio and foreign materials scans to prevent anything from being smuggled in, the traitor would find himself strapped to a metal chair at the wrists, ankles and waist by a thick metal band electromagentically locked to the chair. Even the acolytes standing outside his cell, armed with high voltage stun batons, were trained to resist any attempt at mental trickery. Escape was not possible for a lowly apprentice such as he.

Taking the bait, Hou-Jo pressed his assault toward Julio, readily falling into his free flow form of Vapaad. He pushed aggressively, with the same absurdness and bravado as ever. Passion and fury poured from his aggressive swings, raining on Julio in rapid succession. The blows came faster, and from every direction each fleeting moment they remained locked. Julio held his lightsaber far in front of him, pushing as and redirection the fallen Jedi's blade with every ounce of effort. The attack pressed on and on, rapidly infuriating Julio as he was consumed purely in his own defense. It was easy to see why Hou-Jo kept pressing to cross blades. He was like dancer on stage, lost in the music, nearly oblivious of his dance partner. Still he drew deep on reserves of power, demanding more and more of his broken body and mind to break through his opponent. Now, more than ever, was it so readily evident the difference between the two. Julio had held himself back, striking out only when critical damage was sure, while the fallen lashed out with everything he had, pulling and tearing at himself to bend the Dark Side to his will. He had no training in the dark arts, didn't at all understand the consumption and self destruction of the beast. As Hou-Jo pressed his assault, and as slowly the gravity of the planet began to take shallow hold on the bridge, the pair of them began to edge toward the nose of the ship. With each little loss of ground Julio could feel the the wall growing at his back, more imposing and final with every desperate parry. He couldn't find an opening to strike back, every unconscious movement instinctual flow of his Darkness pouring out to defend against Hou-Jo's own. There was no apparent answer, he may very well die here in this very moment, forgotten long before his dreams came to life. No. The thought just couldn't sit in his head. Everything he had worked for, every pain and struggle he had overcome, every single day in his life had been devoted to a single thing. Transcending the man he was into something so great, so undeniably free that nothing could ever stop him from simply being. This fallen Jedi, this man who stood against everything Julio wanted or needed was nothing. Misguided and angry at the world like everyone else. He had fantastic potential, certainly, but he simply didn't understand the darkness in his own heart. The fallen Jedi simply let his passions rule him, captivated by the freedom he was for so long denied. Julio's foot found the wall and all panic melted off his face into a wide, brilliant smile. Hou-Jo's arms were raised high to strike down in a massive blow, locking in that brilliant moment of clarity. The path was certain now, all doubts checked in sudden realization. Rage and intent held purpose in one critical moment, a single point where fate itself was vulnerable. Assassins trained to seek this moment. To find that chink in the armor and strike hard and fast. To do the most crippling damage as quickly as possible to ensure the victims defeat. As Hou-Jo brought his saber down, Julio sprung forward kicking off the wall. For the first time throughout the entire struggle, Julio was charging the fallen Jedi face to face. The Sith's crimson blade turned horizontal to catch Hou-Jo's hammer strike far sooner than expected. Stuck at the apex of his strike, Hou-Jo's arms hadn't yet wrought forth the full momentum of the strike, leaving them hanging high for that one brief second. There was a second in which Hou-Jo's face was clearly visible from Julio's low, crouching angle. Now! This was that very moment! His metal fist, coiled at his hip, rocketed up through the opening in a powerful uppercut, bolstered with poison induced rage and the complete focus of the Sith's intent. He did not want to kill this one, but he would bow. But just as the crushgaunt slid between Hou-Jo's elbows, the short lightsaber built into its top wrist initiated a snap like a warning bell, the precursor to any awakening blade. But the standard hiss of the awakening did not follow. In the same thought to spur alive the lightsaber hidden in the folds of metal of his crushgaunt was one to deny it a vital component that gave the device its composure. The electromagnetic containment field. Without it, the lightsaber produced not form a cohesive beam of plasma, but instead pouring out the superheated plasma like a fountain from the fallen Jedi's knees to his throat as the metal fist rose to crush into his unprotected jaw. ((5))

Still, more and more lightning. Any question of whether or not Hou-Jo was committed was lost in the near mesmerizing display of constantly manifested power. The Jedi had been drawing deep from the Force for some time now, whether deep in his battle trance or releasing massive volleys of lightning, strong enough to completely cripple a capital ship, strong enough to shatter bullets and throw them aside. The target hadn't moved at all, freely floating slowly toward the ceiling. Not at all a difficult target to hit. But this wreath of lightning snatched most of the bullets from its path, fifty in all before the soft *click-click* signaled the drum clip empty. It had taken only a few short seconds to empty the gun, and as Julio holstered his gun to again ready his lightsaber for the charge, the lightning wreath erupted from Hou-Jo like a great wave threatening to wash over him in pain and incapacitation. Before he could think his body was throwing itself backward, toward the nose of the ship as his feet kicked off the surface held firm by his metal hand. He couldn't control his flight back, couldn't turn to anticipate without turning from Hou-Jo, their eyes locked even as the fallen Jedi seemed to row across the ceiling toward him. The lightning wave bathed the floor below him in dancing jolts of violet. To the bodies still on the floor in some way, either strapped to their seats or their shoes melted to the floor, the lightning seemed to almost animate them for a moment as jolts turned into momentary twitches or convulsions, even an occasional fluttering of the eyes. The imagery painted a grotesque scene of anger and selfishness, struggle beyond care of destruction. And it was wonderful. Pain shot up his back as he collided with a console, suddenly veering slightly toward the ceiling at a much slower pace as momentum was lost in the impact. That sudden flash of pain rocked the cage and the beast howled within him, begging, no, now demanding to be FREE. His furnace heart burned in his chest with the poison and it demanded more! More struggle, more freedom, more release, more punishment to this worm that dare question what he had earned, what he deserved! Pretense was lost in the Sith's head as all he could think about was this Jedi's life, and exactly how valuable it really was to his plans. He had been called to Merkava by the Force, that was without question. But was it to collect Hou-Jo to aide the Order in the year to come, or was it simply for this moment, right now? Another test? You will bow to me, Jedi! Bow to me as you've bowed to Dark Lords before! His lightsaber snapped alive as he leveled it with Hou-Jo, his right hand open beside him. If he wanted to cross sabers so badly, if he felt this was his strong ground, then this was exactly where Julio would break him. At this speed they would meet soon, but his sword arm would be difficult to lift properly with the most likely broken ribs. Pain aside, muscles connected to those ribs simply wouldn't work right. The hail of gun fire had left it winded, it seemed, though he could simply be trying to focus after drawing upon the Force so heavily. He had worn himself out, thinking his foe easily cut down rash displays of power. Julio had mostly held himself back, building on his fury as the Jedi continued to defy him. As they met, Julio's left wrist immediately went into a flow of flourishes, bounding lightly at Hou-Jo's weapon before flicking around to attack at another vector, disengaged and about again time after time as he kept the Jedi busy. No heavy blow was made between the meeting of lightsabers, and parries quickly disengaged before they threatened to move Julio too much. Hou-Jo would have to press pass the fencing like stance to get anywhere near Julio. Soon the beast would be free and there would be no hope for Hou-Jo Poleb. Let him find out for himself the true power of the Dark Side. ((4))

The small freighter pulled out of yet another short jump in hyperspace. Perhaps the thousandth. Who knows? Rose had lost count after nodding off in the copilots chair. Everything was so vibrant and exciting here in the Maw, she hadn't seen the inside of her eyelids for over two days, absolutely lost in wonder. Every time the ship had to pull in and out of hyperspace she was reminded how dangerous this trip really was. Without the breaks, without the micro adjustments and recalculations the ship would be lost in singularity to one of the countless black holes potholing the narrow path in space. How had father found this place? It was impossible to know where to break off the Kessel run, weaving deftly through the devastating traps the ferocious Maw had to offer, and every single adjustment. It was all perfect. Exact directions in a system wide maze of astronomical forces of terrifying power. One couldn't have simply found this place by mistake, this tiny pocket of shrouded safety amidst such great threat of destruction. Weirder than that, Julio had confessed to her when describing the place that he had never gone there himself, and that it was beyond imperative that she followed his directions to the key. "Miss." Came the captain's sweet but firm voice. "We're approaching the final exit." Her eyes flicked open casually, lingering on nothing particular in front of her before she sat slowly upright. Stars still blurred by in streaks of various hues. And then, nothing. The blur stopped suddenly, and the ship immediately found itself locked in a tractor beam "Shuttled five, five, one. You have been expected and intercepted." Buzzed a mechanical voice through the intercom. There was only one way in to Spite Station. Through the narrow path lined with black holes. Scanners and relays imbedded in asteroids a few jumps back had paused to register the ship's codes and forwarded the arrival to the station. Now in plain view for the first time, Rose began to see what her father had tried to show her. A cluster of asteroids, sewn together by long rails of turbolifts, almost like tendons. The central asteroid acting as the hub alone was massive, not to mention the handful of other, lesser asteroids lashed to it and one another in an intricate web of interconnecting tunnels. Room enough for all of the Order's needs. One safely landed, Rose made her way down the exit ramp and was received by the familiar presence of her father's shrouded followers. "Young master." They whispered in unison as the three of them bowed, rising as one. "Spite station has been converted as per the Master's orders. Shall you have a tour?" Her legs were stiff, the walk would do her good. "Yes." Three hours later her legs throbbed. She toured the main hub first, honeycombed by areas of living quarters. The rooms ranged from ten by ten holes in the wall bunked to fit nine, to expansive apartments housing every mundane need a domesticated, civilized person may desire. The apartment her and her father would be sharing was by far the most lavish she had stayed, except maybe their home on Talus, but that was purely for appearances. Here, away from the prying eyes of the galaxy it wasn't much needed. At least that's what Julio would say. Inwardly she was delighted to see the pretty burgundy wallpaper, etched in gold leaf, and the matching carpet. Delicately hidden amidst the housing section were laundry rooms, and in the lower sections food dispensers and public showers and restrooms. Almost different worlds from the floors above. Lower still housed the hanger bays. There were a lot of hangers belting around the central hub, some small for personal use, and others large enough to fit small warships, or even whole fighter wings. Deeper still were engineering departments, filled with machines and tools to fabricate whatever came to mind. Through one of the long turbolifts they arrived at the power planet where the reactor was constantly being monitored by sentient and artificial intelligence alike. Security droids marched mechanically through their outlined paths, ready to lay down fire should any cross their paths without clearance. Also on this satellite hub was the communications department. Right now their predominant concern was monitoring who came in and out of hyperspace at that very narrow point of a threshold, ready to intercept with one of the various tractor beams in place. Should anyone unregistered come through, they'd be locked into place while turreted mass driver and ion cannons honed in. But as there were very few people coming in and out, their other task was that of synchronizing the sensors surround the station coordinating every individual weapon system on the station. Internally, the only protection offered were blast doors capable of being electromagnetically sealed in the event of a turbolift tube breaching or if hangers needed to be locked down. Any viewport to space also had thick durasteel shutters plated in phrik to resist any forced entry. Pleased by the security, Rose only nodded an approval and continued on to other hubs. Most of the hubs had at one point been scientific research. This was the only one that remained virtually untouched in idea, though hugely updated in technology and design. A medical bay, cloning tubes, labs of any size one could come to think of. It rivaled any facility in any university, though not as grand as those held by private companies and huge military budgets. Cybernetics, cellular manipulation and reconstruction, the body could be a canvas here. "How are we staffed?" Her manner seemed most mature, though her childish voice constantly reminded those around her that she was quite out of her element. "We've recruited acolytes from the student bodies of schools around the galaxy. None of them gifted like you, young master, but each stood at the top of their classes in their given studies. Engineers, Technicians, Graduates, all what would have been the best and brightest of the galaxy had we not whisked them from the light of day." And with a nod the tour continued. A smaller hub held meditation spheres, each with huge spherical windows to look upon the black hole infested system. Aside from these, a few workshops barely ten foot square stood in a line of compartments dug into the asteroid. In them contained all the tools and generic spare parts necessary to construct a lightsaber, as well as tiny furnaces capable of reaching phenominal temperatures to pour one's passion into a crystaline form. This hub, more than any of the others, was remarkably less done up. Jagged stone jutted out from every wall, there weren't so much doors on the meditation spheres as loosely fitted panels of metal on weak rails. Lights, blinking in some sickly yellow color, only lined the wall in sconces every thirty feet or so.Aside from the metal fixtures, it felt very cave like. At one point one of the hubs on the station served as an Imperial barracks. Now it stood as a dungeon for slaves and prisoners alike. The holding cells ranged from your standard hole in the wall with an energy field as the missing wall, Force cages, to ray sheilds suspending the hostage in air. The interrogation rooms were much more heinous. Barbed manacles dangled from walls, anchored three feet deep into the asteroid's rock face, chairs with restraints and electric diodes up the back of the chair and down the arm and leg rests. A tray of tools that sported tools you could find in doctor's bags, mechanic's toolboxes, or butcher's blocks rested just against the wall on a rolling cart. And every room had a drain directly in the middle, not three feet in front of the chair. She was glad to be out of this hub. The station hadn't been open in over four hundred years, and it still stank of blood. The next hub was converted into training grounds. Half of it stood as a gutted out structure, now an obstacle course. The course ran a quarter mile long and stood eight stories tall, littered with pit falls, floor traps, high jumps, and fire. What the course lacked in distance, it more than made up for it in difficulty. The higher up the course you made it, the deadlier it became. The other half of the hub was broken up into a few rooms lined with weapons and long ranges to test accuracy. Weight rooms, acrobatic rooms, everything a young Sith needed to push their bodies past the breaking point and forge themselves anew. A digital library took up only one room with but a few consoles, but held all the written knowledge the Sith had transcribed onto digital format over the millenia. The final hub was perhaps the smallest, though by far the least noteworthy. Immediately off the turbolift, the floor stretched out in brilliant crimson tiles flecked with black stone. The tiles criss crossed in intricate patterns, no two tiles the same, creating a mural that drew the eye further down the long, narrow hallway. Torches lined the sides, but once you exited the hall, the room expaned to a huge ballroom, enough to fit five hundred people, with room left to dance in the middle. A large crystal chandalier hung in the middle, each stone a different hues of reds, purples, blues and black. When all the torches lining the inside of the chandelier were lit, the thing blazed like an ion storm, sending shards of colorful light everywhere. Ornamental weapons and intricately woven tapestries depicting famous victories lined the walls, though the practicality of the weapons was questionable. They looked more pretty than sharp. On either side of the room were two sets of doors. The one to the left went to a large dinning hall with a well stocked kitchen past another set of doors, while the one to the right went to a large study of sorts, with a grand piano, card table, and bookshelves lined with collections of works of any subject matter. In the back of the ball room, a twin set of stairs followed the natural curve of the room up to a small balcony where one large, very comfortable looking throne sat alone. "You've been most busy." She said awestruck, lost in the majesty of this hub in comparison with the compound like feel of the rest of the station. "We live to serve the Sith, young Master."

What a spectacle it was, first watching the fallen Jedi flare in pain and fury, and then to watch him pour himself into a massive assault of raw lightning on the ship itself. Consoles flickered and burst in showers of sparks. Men and women alike sat entralled in their seats as the violet surge coursed through their body, calcifying bone and boiling blood. The Dark Side drummed with power as it savored their lives, spicing the rage poison burning in his veins. Julio loved every second of it. The struggle, the desperation. Both combatants wanted to live, but more so they wanted to lash out at the other, to test will against will. So much so that Hou-Jo was willing to crash the very ship they were on to do it. The few that were far enough from their stations to elude the tempest began running for the turbolift, the fear of such an unexpected siege on their vessel too much for their loyalty to hold. Let them run. Cowards. As the lights flickered out and all the ship's systems powered down, everything began to tilt as the nose of the ship bowed low at the will of Cardia's gravity. Fighters began pouring out of hangars, escorting larger shuttles and transport vessels away from the derelict ship. Soon Julio would be utterly alone with Hou-Jo, a prospect that greatly thrilled him. It was always meant to be this way, one soul struggling against another. The ship began to dip further and Julio crouched low, burying his crushgaunt's metal fingers into the bridge's metal panel floors to steady himself. If he thought this was enough to throw off Julio, he was sorely remiss. But why crash the ship? The move seemed sour with desperation. Why not attack Julio directly? What was going on in that misguided mind of his? The fallen Jedi, on the other hand, did not seem to mind the lack of gravity, letting himself drift idly upward. He stared intently at Julio, concentrating so hard to watch his every movement, ready to intercept with an armful of lightning. The bridge was dark now, dimly lit by the far star and the two remaining sources of light on the bridge. When would this fallen Jedi learn what Julio really was? Darkness was nothing to be feared, but embraced. Snuffing out his lightsaber and returning it to his belt, Julio instead drew his father's automatic slugthrower. Hou-Jo floated in air, helplessly locked in a lack of gravity and now the brightest target on the bridge. Squeezing the trigger, Julio's eyes bored into Hou-Jo, intently watching him for any movement that would change his direction. If he moved, Julio would be leading him. Round after round flew silently out of the slugthrower, poised at the enemy's center mass. Veiled from perception of the Force by his mask and aided by the sudden dim lighting of the bridge, Hou-Jo may not have even seen what Julio drew after the crimson light of his lightsaber was removed from scene. Julio screamed as he fired, rage taking over. This fallen Jedi had dared stand against him, in ignorance or ego it didn't matter. He thought himself a Sith just from his fall, as if switching from light to darkness was enough. He didn't know anything about being free, about struggling for the sake of growth. He simply wanted to live as he was, and make the galaxy sorry for whatever they had done to him. And now he broke his capital ship just to put Julio on edge. A petulant child throwing baradium around like it was righteous. So what if the ship was crashing? Surviving a crash was far less a concern than putting this dog in its place. The only way this fight would stop was if one of them was defeated, completely and utterly crushed so that there would never again be doubt who the Dark Lord really was. ((3))

His metal fingers clasped in around the throat of the slow breathing officer as Julio rested his chin on the barely breathing officer, consciousness tenuous as waves of dagger like pain struck a thousand points on his body with every fluttering heartbeat. Time virtually stood still as the man had been ripped from the floor and pulled into Julio's cold grasp in a flash, but his eyes somehow pulled themselves open despite the pain. No, they were forced open. Watch. Watch as this Jedi loses himself to his power. So quickly he pours himself into it, so quickly it goes unchecked. The thought took only a moment to register before the man's vision was filled with a bright flash of light. And then pain, nothing but white hot, all consuming pain. Lightning burned through his body, up his spine and into every nerve stretching out, up into every synapse of his brain. It was too much, nothing made sense, his body wasn't his own, everything was ending. Suffering rang on eternally in that one second as that man died. With the final lightning surged thud of his heart, Julio dug his metal fingers half way around his throat and ripped it away. With a flick of the wrist the spraying body was cast in a high arch at the fallen Jedi. Julio was already in a rush at Hou-Jo, his body sizzling in a flash of searing pain. Being in physical contact with the body as it was struck sent jolts through his crushgaunt. Nothing to the effect of a direct hit of such powerful lighting, but enough to clench teeth and let passion stir. His muscles tensed in a short spasm before electricity ran its course. Ego snarled behind the cage but Julio only let the gruesome vision of the blood spray play in his head as he charged, shaping it in his mind into a bright, straight lightsaber blade, poised at Hou-Jo's heart. In that flash of blood a *snap-hiss* accompanied the blade as it had every other time anyone heard a lightsaber. The Sith poured his fury into that dying man. DIE!! `*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*` Hou-Jo swung low under the flying corpse, his eyes transfixed on the glowing red blade always on the cusp of lunging for his life but never striking. He seemed to flip around to let what he felt to be Julio land where he had, effectively trading places before launching himself forward in a flurry of what felt to be a flow of great pride of skill and technique. Hou-Jo certainly was a master of his lightsaber, as much an extension of himself as the Force itself, but it consumed him. He lost himself to the lightsaber, so full of form his structured mind struck at only the threat perceived to be the greatest, everything else disregarded. As the Jedi rushed at the illusion, Julio too rushed at the Jedi from his blindness. His left hand fell back to slide a finger across the exposed edge of his ryyk blade. The rage inducing poison drove out everything other than his enemy out of focus, but not out of mind. With ever beat of his furnace heart the fire grew hotter, with every step toward Hou-Jo an ever growing desire to break the fool who stood in his path to transcendence. It had been Julio's projection of his wrath, his desire for violence through the dying, agony stricken man that had put the powerful idea in the Force, but it was the fallen Jedi's arrogance that ruined him. He saw what he wanted and disregarded the rest. The bone white mask ushered him unnoticed toward Hou-Jo, coming up on his right side. His lightsaber flew southpaw to his left hand as his right cocked back. Planting his final step, Julio's body burst forward in a massive rush of Force as all pretense was dropped and the full brunt of his one, precise strike. Hou-Jo's lightsaber play was so fast each bend and extension of his right arm cast long, brilliant designs in the air. It was certainly lovely against the man that wasn't there. The Jedi's sweep came in a horizontal strike at the phantom, and Julio's crushgaunt enshrouded fist fired out with the full force of his rising body and wrath flowing to one crippling blow to the tender ribs and muscles under the right armpit. And almost on queue the ship dropped out of hyperspace, just above Cardia. ((2))

An answer delivered in a blaze of destruction flashed across the bridge, and Julio couldn't help but smile as dozens of honor guard dropped to the ground writhing in pain. Their suffering stirred the Dark Side and made his heart flutter in a sudden thrill. If he wasn't before, Julio was getting excited now. He hadn't had a test in a long time. No struggle to help him discover himself, to push himself further than he ever thought possible. He wanted threat. He wanted Hou-Jo to try to kill him, to try take everything he worked for and crush it in his hands. Let him try, let anyone try. Anyone who dares question all of Julio's hard work, all the knowledge he had acquired through a life of suffering and trial. After all, that was what this was all about. The fight to hold the power that all others would crave.These men, remnants of the Empire now dead meant nothing the the Sith. They were weak lives snuffed out at the whim of this fallen Jedi in an egotistical display of power, or, and this was the thought that bemused Julio most, in some anticipatory strike against those he perceived to be potential threats. Either way, the thought was laughable. Let him cut down the weak to prove he can. The same childish display of power he expected of the rest of the misguided order. In the same flash the bodies wracked in lightning abruptly stopped, motionless even in their hearts. "I can feel your anger. It gives you focus... makes me stronger." Again he had to stifle a laugh. The pretentiousness on this one. Ego exuded from him, saturating the air with a musky bravado that stung the nose. He stood fearless against Julio, so sure of his victory already. Hou-Jo would probably even hold himself back, not bothering to put in real effort against one he thought so little of. It was this thinking, this type of baseless confidence that had destroyed so many Sith before. Julio would not be as naive. The fallen Jedi had aspirations of becoming a legend, pulling the galaxy to its knees in reverence to him and only him. Pipe dreams of children who know power but not purpose. To what end would he rule the galaxy? To sit on a throne and gloat for the rest of his life? To burn down his own kingdom out of spite and anger held for so long its lost its purpose? Some droll nonsense about about his 'unique perspective' coming from both sides of the line almost caused Julio to roll his eyes. As if he were the first to fall from grace. "You should have made your move. I do not think you as unwise to believe any other outcome but this." He could feel Hou-Jo focusing, drawing upon his disdain for Julio to lash out. The tide rose swiftly as dark power answered the man's call, and the bridge began to feel all too small in scope of the raw power being commanded. The feeling was...invigorating. To feel any free flowing form of emotion to such an extent from anyone else. It was good to feel the Dark Side so vivaciously. Your arrogance blinds you. Julio said through his wide smile just as he lowered his mask, fading himself from perception of the growing beast that was Hou-Jo's darkness. He thought of Julio as nothing but a bug to be squashed, a trivial hindrance in his way. Not at all did he seem to expect any real threat. Just an anticipation of some meager attempt at violence. As the single bolt of lightning spread out from Hou-Jo's fingertips a body was already flying into place in front of Julio. One of the very men that just died for no reason hung just a couple feet in front of Julio, lighting glowing through his flesh and calcifying his bones, dancing across flesh and burning hair and cartilage alike. The Master held the body in place for a few short moments, the display of light brighter and more intense as more malicious electricity poured in from Hou-Jo's fury, and the pair became indistinguishable in the brilliant haze. Forms became lost in the light before they split, one flying high in an arch and the other straight forward, both at Hou-Jo. Lightning still danced slightly on the skin of the clouded figure coming straight at him, while a snap-hiss and a bright red light screamed out of the one in the air, but it was impossible to distinguish which was the Sith, and which was corpse. Everything about the two was muddled in Hou-Jo's vision, undefined in form or substance. The fallen Jedi had made a mistake. One he would realize shortly. ((1))

Darth Furion. He said nonchalantly, though let his inflection hang on the title and its every implication. Every Sith held open challenge, that was just the way. The title was worn proudly to let that be known prominently. But this one, this...Jedi so far fallen. He may not have cared for the hierarchical struggle so ambitiously exploited by the rest of the brethren. Hou-Jo Poleb was different, his passion fueled by something very specific, very personal. He had felt it so very long ago, and he could feel it in undercurrents beneath this man's exuding power. A focus his very own. As the shuttle began to take off, Julio let his company's words mill through his head. They seemed out of place, reminiscent of another time. It seemed the fallen master had been disoriented somehow. Maybe the sheer nature of this planet or some other phenomena. Julio knew too well how easy it was to let things slip away or lock up tightly in the farthest recesses of the mind. Whether he had been in stasis as he suspected, or his mind lost years for some unknown purpose remained to be seen. The shuttle ride was short, but quiet, Julio weighing his words carefully so as not to be confused. Docked, he made his way down the ramp, ignoring the rows of soldiers on either side of the pathway leading to the turbolift. As the doors slid shut and the lift began to rise, he spoke again. I do not know what happened to you, but I believe you incorrect on the length of time. Dominique hasn't been in this galaxy for several years now. The doors opened, and Julio didn't pause to let his words really register before walking on to the bridge. "Commander on deck!" Shouted an officer at the nearest console. As one the deck turned without thinking and saluted, returning just as fast with a curt nod. The Order has passed hands several times since you've been....indisposed. Presently, our current Dark Lord is getting himself killed spearheading an attack on the Jedi's Gala temple as we speak. I am currently taking the initiative to replace him and pull our Order up from the disgraceful state its in. He spun on his heels, now standing half way down the long catwalk that ran between trenches of consoles and monitors. His eyes hardened, turning a brighter gold as the question swam to his head, and paths began to flare up in his head in a thousand different directions. I assume you understand your options. He was still now, uncomfortably still. His face betrayed nothing. No growing anticipation, no tensing of his muscles. He just stood there, motionless with his hands clasped idly before him like he was asking for a decision between cherry or blueberry. As if on some mental queue, the captain gave the signal behind them and the ship lurched forward in a stream of blue brilliance. Soon they would be above Cardia.

Consolidation. That was all that was left now. A year now he had been hidden, lost from the galaxy in strikes of vision too powerful to contain. Thousands of flashes, to fast to form any context, sometimes for weeks at a time before his writhing body just stopped. Nights seething in pain and cold sweats against the still cooler stones of the floor stretched on forever in the blackness of sealed doors. Over months repetition engrained patterns in his mind, set paths he could go down to see a possible outcome. The more he tried to make sense of any one, it would blossom off in a hundred other little wisps. Everything unfolded into something else, little things became mammoth in impact as paths progressed. Eleven months he gave himself to these many ways of maybe, emerging a tortured man. Everything was so possible, but so sadly certain. There were so many elements to consider. A month of restoring his body from the carnage the visions cost brought everything in focus. And now he took his first tenuous steps on the path that had always been clear from the beginning. Transcendence. The star destroyer was not difficult to obtain, what with the Empire dashed all through the galaxy, on the run on the outer rim from the wrath of the Galactic Alliance. Turning the crew took little effort, many of them looking for anything that could possibly save them from a life adrift on the rim. It would serve as a good symbol to those he would have to personally visit to press the matter. They would all bow. Bow or die. It was the only way, as it had always been. There was one thing to take care of before announcing himself, though in time it would have made itself known to the Order whether he said anything or not. Soon the Dark Lord would die on Gala, and Julio would be there to take the reigns and put the Order back where it needed to be. In the shadows, striking only when it was most critically devastating. That 'one thing' to take care of was something that had vexed him for several months into his visions until he pushed himself beyond it to see the bigger picture. It was a blur, a massive darkness veiling a single presence on the surface of Merkava, a powerful station in the Dark Side, home to a Dark Lord or two in its time. Someone would be there, waiting? No. But ready? Certainly. Anyone bothering to dwell on such a hostile, hungering planet would know well the nature of the beast. In low orbit he could already feel him. The presence he had felt once before, on this very same planet, when Dark Lord Dominique reigned from this very planet. Had he ever left? Had he lost himself in the hunger of the planet, fed on borrowed power? Captain. I'm taking a shuttle down. He said without turning from the window, feeling his eyes upon him. Fallen... The shuttle landed softly a mere two hundred feet from the man lost in the desert. Julio's sandals made a soft, crisp crunch under his stride, like the land was dried and cracked. It sounded much like snow. The thought was an odd and happy one to hold as he walked closer to the man, thoughts growing quiet behind his bemused one. It sounded a lot like that time on Ilum, when he took the head of that wookiee pretending to be something other than a beast. This crunch lacked that moisture that snow had. Too brittle. This world felt very dead beneath a great hungering. The dark side was strong here. Hou-Jo Poleb. Julio said with a soft, bemused smile on his face, the memory of snow and Ilum still lingering. I came here not knowing who to expect, but a fallen Jedi was not at the top of my list. They were fifteen feet apart before Julio slowly came to a stop. His eyes flicked to the side to spot the destroyed machine, still smoldering. He couldn't help but greedily scour its surface, the damage it sustained in that one strong flash of lightning. Fascinating. His eyes flicked back to Hou-Jo's and could feel the suspicion. Please. As if I'd send a toy to test a master. His smile widened wolfishly, as if the thought was funny to him. Do you have these things all over the planet? Should I be afraid? A chuckle at the thought, but he continued in the next breath. Well, come on then. If you'll want to be part of the Order, you'll serve like everyone else.

Please... He didn't stir in his chair, nor appear to take note as Ason unsettled himself. His reaction would have been rather amusing, had it not served only to prove his point. We're just talking, you and I. But look at you, all up in a fuss because I asked a question you aren't comfortable with. His head almost fell to his left, as if he were half asleep. The Sith looked at his brother with dead eyes. Dull, golden eyes holding no sense of compassion for the one his gaze held. You were well known in the Order when I was brought in. A well studied Krath, always beside himself in his research. You became a Lord not long after, a surprise to none. But then years went by, and all of us walked our own paths for some time. But we come back to us now, and here I sit a Master of my art, you still where you stood so many years ago. Whether you are aware of it or not, brother, you have been holding yourself back for some time. You've triumphed over great enemies, struggled with decisions heavier than most souls will ever weigh, you've looked past the veil and held power in your hands, but you've never pushed yourself. You walk a tenebrous path, but you dare not step wholly into the darkness. Attention was drawn outside the ship. Not so much a sound, or trick of perception. This feeling called from the very bottom of Ason's heart, one he had neglected for a long, long time. Urgency ushered itself into their awareness and Julio quickly turned to look out into the vast blue sphere of Talus before them. His expression remained hollow, sunken, but his eyes mirrored some far off light like a cat, even in the dim illumination of the bridge. Are you afraid? Taking the step off the ledge can indeed be quite....exhilarating. A step away from what we know, who we presently are into something we can only dream of. The ship continued to drift slowly toward Talus until the great blue sphere massed out the night sky and began to envelop them. This is something you can not simply anticipate, or calculate. This is a step into the future, the necessary continuation of your path. I would rather you take this step yourself, but I feel you've shied from it for so long you've forgotten what it entails. You've forgotten your faith. Julio turned to Ason, light still mirrored in his eyes. The reflection was of Ason's own soul, in twain between the Master's two eyes. I can show you, or you can continue hiding from yourself.

"Port side authority initiating orbital entry procedures. Welcome to Talus. Please remain patient while we verify your identity, and transpond-" The soft female voice on the other end was cut short as Julio lazily reached forward just enough to flick the switch. He sat, or rather almost laid in the co-pilot seat, sinking ever further during their last hyperspace jump as he whittled away hours lost in thought. He just stared out the window, his left hand on his temple while he leaned slightly on his right. No words, no faint pulse of emotion the rest of the voyage. Only now at their destination did he stir. If we don't respond soon they'll send up an armed escort to lead us down. Emily, go to the back and prepare for immediate departure once we land. Even facing away from her he could see her face sour, feel as that little bit of ire she lost in their previous conversation rekindled at his open commands. And lock the bridge door on your way out. I have something I need to discuss with your elder Brother. She stood up with a defiant sneer, but followed his direction just the same. Defiance was one thing, but that out of ignorance only made him sigh heavily as she huffed out. Her little ember of discontent stirred him from his almost trance like state, and his eyes flashed open and alive. Everything sped up and slowed down in the same heartbeat, and he could feel himself being pulled apart. Here and there blurred together, and the finite seemed to have no horizon. Body and mind split in twain. Reality tore asunder. ~~~~~~~ Just as the young apprentice keyed the door shut, she heard the locks click in place from the other side. As she turned around, there stood Julio, his eyes mad with golden fire as he stared just over her head through the small circular window into the bridge. Without breaking gaze his hands flew up to catch her scream and the back of her neck before anything even registered for Emily. He had a wide, wolfish grin carved across his face, his gleaming white teeth like the gates to a malevolent secret against his dark skin. As if just behind them, on the tip of his tongue sat every secret she had been looking for. It was the face of a fervent man watching his dream come true before his eyes. Slowly he looked down. Down into Emily's frightened eyes as it dons on her the ease at which he could end her life right now. His eyes still burned with a greatness she couldn't identify, and his grin still seemed to want to devour her whole. Little sister. Do you want to see the birth of a titan? ~~~~~~~ As the door slid shut, Julio's left hand fell from his temple for a moment to wave the door locked. It was an odd sensation, to be honest. He felt himself slouched low in his chair, and Ason beside him, and Emily just beyond the door. But he was also aware of himself elsewhere, almost tangible in a way, but one could not be certain. Everything felt so fluid, so moving. The bridge around them felt almost aside itself as it remained a part of the whole. But it mattered not. Ason felt only what he had previously. This separate sensation, Emily's odd placement at the door, even the dichotomy sat unsubstantiated in the young Lord's mind. There was a certain level of expectation in a mind. Events planned out subconsciously long before they ever come to transpire. He saw Emily leave, so he held some expectation of where she would be in the ship. He didn't see or feel any change in Julio, so a continuation of the same was expected. Understandably, one could never know exactly what was going on at all times. To the mind it is like a puzzle with a thousand pieces to put together. Some of the pieces were given, like the layout of the ship and what Emily was expected to do, and some where not, like in what order she would do these tasks in, or in what fashion. Even loosely, the mind fills in these missing pieces as best guess, what is most pragmatic given the variables. The assassin held these expectations like loose threads of thought, and had turned anticipation into reality. Julio continued to slouch in the chair, Emily appeared to be off doing what was expected, and there certainly wasn't anyone on the other side of the bridge door looking in on them. Brother, what are you running from?

As if he remembered something important, he checked his chrono with a quick flick of his wrist and quickly sat upright. We better get going. He said softly as he punched in new hyperspace coordinates. Blue lines blurred by them, and after a few hours they'd soon find themselves at the threshold of Talus. ((Next one of you to post come out of hyperspace above Talus. I'll take the entry.))

Standing in a room full of people, in the throws of conversation the world as she new it seemed to spread apart to Xae, like a pool of water on stone floor for which there seemed to be no horizon. The voices of those around her lost distinction and inflection. Movement out of her peripheral slowed and trailed, as if her vision just couldn't keep up. All sense of focus obscured into an acute awareness of nothingness. Only the slow, steady rhythm of her own heart in her ears kept her in the here. Disconnection and loneliness filled her senses. There was nothing here, no one here. Not another heartbeat, not another soul crying out to be understood. Emptiness. For but a mere second Xae had seem to space out, and perhaps that is exactly how it was going to be written off. Humans did seem ever so adaptive at coping with misunderstood and unknown events. In the blink of an eye she had left them all for a world of singular being, and saw in it the end, returning in the same second. But what was seen could not be unseen.

He speaks of faith. Spoke the Sith Master, smile growing larger and larger as Ason spoke on. In so many words, Ason exemplified perfectly the core behind Emily's confusion. Faith fills in the holes of doubt, that uncertainty no one can disillusion you from. Faith is what sustains you when it seems the very will of the Force is going against you. Our brother is right in saying that we have no empirical evidence as to why our path is correct. Trillions will tell you to your face you are wrong, but offer no better explanation as to why beyond the same rhetoric they've been taught. His smile dissipated a little as he leaned toward Emily. But who are they to tell me I'm wrong? Where is their certainty? Why is their faith and conviction better than my own? Why should I kowtow to any other soul in this galaxy? I walk with certainty because of my faith. I believe with every ounce of my being that this path is right for me, and there isn't a soul in this verse that can tell me otherwise.