Non-Playable-Characters

As the sound of blaster and concussion rifle fire broke out and quickly died, more of the pirate raiding crew began to make their way towards the scuffle. Six of them began to run towards the fighting, skidding to a halt when they saw their collapsed and beaten comrades. They hissed with apprehension and slowly advanced, their weapon lights scanning the walls and shadows. Outside, in the depths of space another ship was pulled from hyperspace. Every Pirates worst nightmare. A Star Destroyer from the Sovereign Alliance, fresh from Kurt Drive Yards, on its first run trials. The Gallinore It’s crew very happy to have found themselves in the middle of a target rich environment.

So the thralls had been laid to dust. What power was this? They had seen it before, ages upon ages ago, where eons stretched back and reality became myth. An old enemy that they had been sure was defeated. A power that had gone out of the universe! And now this girl, this fish and her friends was wielding it against the thralls? The dark presence in the temple reached out its own senses focusing on the trio of Jedi. What had brought them here? What fate had given them this mission to defeat him? He had consumed and he would consume. Blood demanded it. In the temple a half dozen priest began their incantations, staining the alters with blood of unwilling victims. There was little time left and the Jedi were close

A trio of slavers made their way down the concourse of the bulk transport. Trandoshan in origin, their forked tongues flickering over their rows of sharp reptilian teeth as they stalked the corridors. They were nearly silent in their movements save for when they ducked their heads through the doors of cabins and hissed in laughter as they gunned down the occupants with their stun or concussion rifles. Those occupants they deemed valuable for reselling they slapped stun cuffs onto. Those they did not view as valuable, mostly the elderly, they slit the throats of with their long knives. It took them less than a minute per cabin, and they did not expect resistance. A whistle blasted down the corridor towards them and they looked up, hands reaching for their knives. Smiles stretching across their leather like faces. “Who goes there?” Came the hiss like whisper of their leader

“Drop the mine.” The voice was a harsh one, that echoed harshly in the headsets of the heavy lift ship’s crew. A heavily modified Maka-Eekai L4000 transport first registered out of the Gallofree yards on Ca’amas some time during the clone wars. She was as old as dirt, and outaged its crew by at least a factor of nine. But as the mechanics who serviced her always stated in their reports, ‘The bones were still good,’ so the ship served its purpose. With a punch of a button and a turn of a key switch, the bulbus hull swung open and released its cargo into space. A pulse-gravity interdiction mine of hapan make swung loose and drifted a few hundred meters until another call from the boss stopped the firing of its micro engines. Another call from the boss and the massive mine activated. To the unfortunate passengers and crew of several low class space liners, a gravity well the size of a large planet opened up in front of them and the safeties hard built into their hyperdrives pulled them out into realspace before they could smash at twenty times the speed of light into a solid object. Except it was a simulated gravity well, and a half dozen pirate vessels were awaiting their prize. There was no place to flee. And the price of slaves was already high enough to make the venture worth risking a life over. In minutes the ships were swarmed by slaver crews looking and searching for innocent, exotic, and young slaves that they could resell. They fired indiscriminately at crews and passengers alike with blasters. working their way from helm to stern.

For Lenna Kill and Keenava (Also Tharn and kadi) Frustration was building in the horde, their voices raised in a great groaning and a wailing which filled the air like a chorus. They tried, they surged forward towards the two Jedi but where there was no darkness they could not go. One brave and foolish consumed rushed too far, stepping out of the shadows. But where his feet found the light he found unbearable. He screamed a wicked scream. A violent unending scream that seemed to echo on every corner of the landing pad. He tried to turn, to pivot and return to the darkness but his feet found no purchase. They were beings of the darkside. Whatever they had once been had been fully surrendered to the shadows of the serpent. They had devoted fully to him, first to the princes of shadows, then to the shadows themselves. For as water washes away dirt so too could the lightside purify the darkness. And if the being was fully in the service of darkness, what was left behind when washed away? Like wax melteth before the fire so the darkside would perish. The Linnorm screamed again, this time a whimper. A child's cry of fear as he pawed at his eyes. His flesh melted away, bones and sinew too, until only ash remained. A ripple of fear coursed through the crowd of red eyed linnorms. Some at the edges of the crowd turning and running away. But the woman at the center stood still. Unwavering as the light began to creep towards her feet. She reached out her hand again to the girl. But now. She was out of her reach. The child twitched in a violent spasm as the bright light of the force surrounded her. Vomit and blood spewed forth from her mouth in a spray. Hissing and sizzling when it was exposed to the brightness of the force, as if it were water upon a frying skillet. The girl shook, her arms outstretched, pale green fingers convulsing as whatever shadow had been bestowed up her by ritual was drawn from her like poison from a wound. The woman screamed then and turned. Running away towards their temple. The heart of darkness. For the gemcut Solus Linnorms obeyed his orders, though he and those in the palace were fiercely set upon by the militia and civilian fighters. They would have their planet back. Damn the Sith and all their demons. For the Sovereign Knights The tanks intercepted the first few coil gun bolts with the makeshift cages strapped across their turrets that had been specially designed by some smart engineers to stop tandem charge rounds. But alas they only stopped a few blasts from the coil guns before the next few blasts penetrated armour and the tanks were utterly silenced. One crew was able to bail out, but the other crews were not. Consumed alongside the ammunition stores in a gout of fire that blew the turret of their tanks in a fantastic explosion. For now only a few heavy gunned Chariot LAVs remained as mechanized infantry. The rest of the local forces on the line having either fled or reduced significantly in strength save a linnorm Eweb and mortar team who laid down a withering barrage on the Sovereign forces and their Knight leaders.

For Leena/Pinckz/Tharn/Kadi The being laughed, a croaking and evil laugh. The words slipping from its mouth pronounced with the harsh hssing of an utterly foreign and serpentine tongue. “Do you know how many times we have heard those words? How many of your great warriors have died with those pathetic words upon their lips? What next will you utter dear fish? That you swear to never hide that light under a bushel basket?” Another, wicked, ancient laugh. But the creature had stopped. Shuddering, it did not venture further into the light, instead reaching a slender finger up. Slowly, unerringly, to its wrist. Pressing on the ring of blood that had encircled it. The markings changed suddenly with the press, glowing a pale red that matched the eyes of the many that lay behind in the shadows. The force moved heavily as the darkside made itself known in the senses of the Jedi, and all about them red eyes began to appear in the shadows. As the Consumed began to close in. Several hundred at least if counted together. It was time to deal with these intruders. For His ritual would not be interrupted. _____________ For Kirlocca, Tilt and Squad, and Sandy The young woman smiled wanly at the clone, her face close enough to his to kiss him if she had felt the inclination. Her voice dropped to a low tone, sensual and dark. “We need young blood for His ascension. The children and whoever you bring to us will be sacrificed on the alter of the Fanged God.” She said it as if it were common knowledge, and though she was about to speak again she gasped instead. Her eyes unfocusing for a moment as their dark pupils shifted and changed before the clone’s gaze. Their natural dark stillness replaced with a raging fire of red. She dropped his arm without adding the blood mark and turned towards the door. For those Jedi that remained inside the bar, the darkside was in full swing now and their blood marks urged them towards the fight. For vengeance, for blood, for Him. The Fanged God who sat upon his throne of blood. _____________ For the Sovereign Knights The Defences of the throne world of the fanged god were not completely at a waste. Most if not all competent troops, pilots, and gunners had been sent to Nar Shaddaa and had not returned, leaving in their place a vast amount of fresh recruits and draftees held together by sparse ranks of the Linnorms. Those that had been marked as Linnorm, with their red glowing eyes seemed to be the most brutal. Holding together their lines of men with force if necessary, acting with one mind as they fought the troops of the Sovereign houses. Here and there were fierce pockets of defence, and three land tanks emerged from their covered positions to engage the men of House Edsbryder. While artillery dropped upon the heads of Contispex and Malczewski. Draftees and enlisted men shooting from covered positions as they screamed in terror. While others simply dropped their weapons and fled in terror. A few catching rounds from their linnorm commanders who calmly shot them in the back. _____________ For the Sith Lords of Korriban Those soldiers and militia that recognized the Sith either ran or tried to form ranks to assist. There would be some order restored by their presence, but it was like fighting a forest fire with a hose. Disaster was in the air. And those oppressed citizens that had cowered for years in fear were now also making themselves known. Turning ever corner of the capital city into a potential firefight as militai fought militia, linnorms tried to restore order and citizens added to the mix with hunting rifles A few militia fired at Solus before they ran. Judging that the war had already been lost. There would be more organized resistance as he approached the palace. There were many soldiers there, and they werte itching for a fight. Things planetside were falling apart quickly.

A singular coded message arrived at the communicator of the Lord Akheron. Code F4403 Invasion. It was automated and had no further details

A long drink of the yellow green tea that the wife had packed him. Yeah it was early in the shift, but it was so good, and it smelled like home. He would have to swing by the commissary and pick something up with caffeine in a few hours. What were another three credits against the weight of school loans? It wouldn’t cause a fight when Clara found it on the statement. She would probably sigh but understand. Times had been tough ever since the promises had fallen through about the Sith government paying off scho- His display flashed. Nothing of interest. A shuttle inbound from some obscure planet called Kashyyyk. What a stupid name for a planet. He punched an automated code that gave the shuttle a landing clearance planet bound. Same Starport as he had sent the last four to. The very same starport which was now being surrounded by the Consumed. But he couldn’t have known that. He sadly stared at his empty mug and debated reaching into the still full lunch container. But before he could have reached for a package of Linnormeos, (Packed with nutrients and flavour!) his display flashed again, then turned a bight red. He looked up to his partner who was helpfully napping on the other side of the control tower. “Hey Malcolm, what the kriff is this!” His voice reached a high pitch as a force of huge starships emerged from hyperspace. “Oh kriff its starting!” And of course they would be the only two assigned to the bleeding Golan I when the invasion started. He wasn’t going to die for this kriffing government. He slammed the red button hard enough to crack the panel and dove for the escape pods. ______________ In the bar far below, the Linnorm bodyguard placed his blood covered thumb on each of the wrists offered in turn. Marking them as one of the followers. The Darkside radiated from the blood, attempting to draw those that wore the mark into the service of the Fanged god. Perhaps it had been learned from Dathomiri witches, or perhaps the Dathomiri had learned it in the eons before. The Bodyguard himself thought of it as magic. “Now go and hunt, and if you find anything you can’t handle by yourself, say a quick prayer and touch the mark. He will answer, and his temple will rush to your aid.” ______________ “A Thousand credits each, and your wrists if you please.” The woman whispered to Tilt and his band. Repeating the offer that had been accepted by the two others in the bar already. She placed a holographic chip out on their table that outlined the children targets. They needed the sacrifices. Quickly. ______________ The black ink of night touched the raising dew. Eclipsing it. Hissing. Pain. Burning. Red eyes in their concert shuddered in black abyss. Fear. But the woman herself was not moved. She smiled an orgasmic smile. Ancient. All teeth that showed in the shadows like bitter slices of summer moon. Stained with deep and dark blood. The being twisted her neck. Looking up towards the heavens, staring for a second as if looking for something. “Is this all that your ‘strength’ summons to you Je’daii?” She took another step. The smile widening. “Do you fear us little one? Do you fear our passion? Or will? Our Carnality? The unknown of chaos is beautiful. It feeds us like the blood that is spilled on our alters It is a cup that you have supped from before...” Another step. Close now. “Now give me my child.”

So they had at least a few of the bar’s patrons to count on. That was a good turn of fortune. The bodyguard grinned widely and touched his hand to the amulet that hung around his neck. Its tiny eyes glowed brightly with a red power. His finger came away bloody, as if it had been cut. “Our price.” He slapped down two silver lined thousand credit chips. One for each of the mercenaries. Though the wookiee would likely deserve the payment much more. Next he pulled out two of the older model disposable imperial era holo projectors. He clicked the button on the top and a series of five faces slowly scrolled across the screen. All the faces were young, scared, and some defiant. “Five of the temple offerings escaped their place of confinement this morning. They are needed. If they can not be found. Suitable young flesh can replace them which can be harvested from the lower classes. Some of the poorer families will gladly part from their children for the right price...” He shrugged and beckoned to the two mercenaries. “Come! We will make a contract then! Hold out your wrists.” ___________ What is this? Who refuses the consumption? The dark shadows seemed to withdraw, almost hesitant to approach the figure of light. Red eyes peered from darkness as if around a corner. Scared for the moment against a figure they had not anticipated. Vocal sounds, whimpers that came from the back of a hundred throats echoed through the landing zone. Even the dark woman looked shocked, her bright red eyes wide in exclamatory horror. She seemed to shudder, her body twisting and relaxing in a convulsion that lasted several seconds before she took another step towards Leena. Her mouth opened and closed several times before she spoke. “Je’daii.” The voice did not fit the woman's body. It echoed harshly, sounding masculine and ancient. Its vowels grating on the mind like the whipping sands of Korriban. “Long have the years been since we have seen the presence of those that call themselves the light.” Another step. Black ink staining a white page of flimsiplast. Then another step. Whimpers turning to groans. “Give me back my child.”

“No. Fret not little clone.” The priestess smiled a bitter smile, revealing teeth that had been filed into brutally sharp points. “We are looking for someone. And we would pay top dollar to those mercenaries that might be interested in some contract work.” She shrugged her scantily clad shoulders and looked back at the cluster of cloned soldiers. “It is, as you would say, easy money.” ______ Her bodyguard shrugged at the Wookiee. “You can tear off any enemies of the state’s limbs you want in fact. And with a physique like yours, well you would be welcome in the service of the temple any time.” He grinned and walked towards the table where Sandy and the Wookiee still sat. “We have been sent by the very same temple on a mission should you be interested in joining us. Quite good credits, and there can be some suitable arm pulling if you wish it.” ______ Consume us. The sound of running feet echoed in the landing zone. Lights flickered and died, and the earth trembled. What was that feeling in the air? Fear? Hate? Resolution? Despair? It mixed together like a paste, scooped and dumped onto the planet's surface. It felt ancient, though it was reflected in new faces of shallow pale green. A sweep of dark shadowed fog swept its way into the landing bays. Its deep dark bringing the shiver of the darkside. In its wake pedestrians froze, and children cried in fear as they clung to parents and buried their faces. But those soldiers, those Linnorm beasts that had been made by the Sith it did not cower. They raised their furrowed brows and walked into the darkness. Their red eyes joining the masses of others that stared out of the abyss. Looking to all before them like a field of red stars in the pitch black of night. A solitary woman walked before the storm of fog. Almost lazy in her jaunt, her footsteps matching those of the young girl as she strode towards where she lay. The woman stared towards the trio, her red eyes glowing like iridescent pools of blood. Pitiless in their stare, set like rubies in her skull, ancient beyond the years of the form it now possessed. Consume us

Consume us Bare feet made little noise on duracrete walkpaths as she ran. Gods she ran. It felt like the very spirits were with her as she made her aimless sprint. Anything to get away. Anything to leave that terror behind. She could feel the cold ice of the blade still pricking at her chest, even though she had left the temple far behind. Every ragged breath an exposition of agony as her lungs struggled against the rising blood that was likely filling them. She could feel her knees weaken with every step, but still. Still she had to find mother. She had to tell her she was all right. That she was alive and to stop worrying. But every breath was an agony. And she could feel the thick foam of blood upon her lips. But running felt different, duracrete had turned to durasteel, and though she blinked her eyes to bat away the black at the edges of her vision it still covered most of it. Was she at the space port? She took another breath and broke into another coughing fit. The black disks covering her eyes like a shade as she pitched face first into the ground at the feet of a hooded Mon Calamari.

Offworlders. Her lip twisted into a sneer at this vague collection of huddled masses and drunken soldiers. They were always far much more trouble than their credits were worth. It stank of them in this shoddy bar. Their fear was palpable, their rowdy alcohol fueled sexual discourse even more so, it mixed with the pale calming pheromones of the waitress to create a stink that curdled in the back of her throat. She sighed loudly and looked towards the Hutt bartender with a wry expression before turning her eyes to the cluster of soldiers that were making themselves known with a disgusting display. Ruffians. Kali-Kera, priestess of the fifth temple, smirked at their harassment of the Hutt and walked straight to their table, stopping behind the leader and placing her hands on his shoulders. Strength she could pull from the Fanged God. And she applied that strength to the man before her, pushing down with a might that rooted him in place and made the durasteel chair he was sitting in groan, as she leaned forward to whisper into Tilt’s ear. “I do not know where you came from. Perhaps you have been in carbonite since the clone wars, or you are friends of General Delta, or General Delta himself. But we do not tolerate these kinds of shenanigans in our Domain.” _______ One of her bodyguards smirked at the display and turned his head to the Wookiee, giving him a look of a man long bored by stupid questions. “Yes this is one of the representatives of the Gods on our world, how may we assist you.”

Having lived primarily on a Sith occupied world for the last several years, the waitress was not adverse to seeing strange sights. An entire armoured squad of look alike human soldiers was certainly not ordinary even before the departure of the grand fleet. In fact they were so look alike that the waitress could swear they looked like clones and they carried a distantly familiar face. A dangerous element, especially with all the heavy crack downs the government had been doing recently. Her mind wandered as she selected the best and most expensive bottle for her patrons. Could this be the rumored rebellion coming? After leaving them to their own devices for so many years, having defeated their sons, brothers, and fathers, over Nar Shaddaa, now slowly seeding the world with operatives for a final confrontation? No, that would be silly. Something out of a holo-film. Not real life. Nothing interesting happened here, she was not a main character of anyone’s story. She knew that, and had no aspirations to be a part of anything grandiose. Still, this development bothered her and a glance back to the bartender, told her he felt the same. She swallowed the sudden bile of fear that pulsed up into her throat, and she smiled back at the Wookiee. “I am sure three fifty will be far more than enough. You are most welcome to hire yourselves out as contract mercenaries or whatever you have a desire to do, just make sure that the Priests and masters get their cut. I can call a priest for you if you would like.” ____ Outside the bar, in the dark streets amongst the oppressive tide of the darkside, three individuals approached the bar. Two huge and muscular men and a lithe woman who was covered with ornamental jewelry of a priestess. They tread past the hooded Leena without a second glance.

The waitress let her well groomed eyebrows creep towards the dark shadowed ceiling as the ‘crew’ made their welcomings. She took her green thumb back towards the bar top, then looked at the wookiee, who seemed to be the most in charge. “It’s the tax to the temple. The priests, all the rest.” She tapped the serpentine locket whose beady crimson eyes stared platonically back at the travelers. “Any business, transaction or contract signed needs to be witnessed by a priest, and the proper toll paid to the serpent God. And don’t think you are exempt because you just stepped off the ship from Taris-stan or wherever.” She sighed and looked at the fish faced Calamari. “So you want a bottle but don’t want a table?” Outworlders, how bleeding exhausting. She reached behind her and dragged one of the free standing chairs from a partially occupied table to this one. Well this tip would be atrocious. Outworlders were two types of people, core logged spacers whose flight hours included the Hydian way who came to slum in the mid rim with all that remained of the sith empire. Or those that were truly lost and preferred to keep it that way. But there was a third type of Outworlders. Those the priests screamed on about in their sermons. Those that would seek to undermine the god himself. If only they were that lucky. She sighed and went to grab the bottle and a few clean glasses

She reached a hand out to touch the cloaked stranger’s arm, as if to feel the taught muscles that might be hidden there. The Masters were always looking for the willing, the strong, and the confident. She flashed her pretty smile. “Muscle is alw-” But a fish faced Mon Calamari stepped rudely between them. Carrying a brilliant gem, and one that was very obviously imported and very obviously expensive. Both were rarities on this world, and alongside the Mon Calamari she also saw three others, equally as cloaked, foreign and obviously right from the star port. She raised a well painted eyebrow and breathed again. Letting off a bit more pheromone than she was used to dusting. Maybe it was nervousness, or maybe it was the odd feeling that was creeping up the back of her neck. She flashed a smile to cover it. “Oh more friends? We do have a larger booth available in the private back quarters if you would wish it. Though any transactions and contracts signed will have to pay the master’s toll.” She referred to the heavy tax thrown upon non sanctioned contracts which had at one point helped pay for the grand armada before its destruction. And pointed a thumb behind her to the ugly looking man who tended the bar, and the equally ugly poster of the red eyed serpant that perched over the taps. She eyed the new comers. “What will you be having to drink?”

Consume us Tendrils of the dark side seemed to reach to nearly every falleen native, echoing strongly in those that carried amulets of white bone. The symbol of the serpent etched in crimson staring at any wandering eye. For the Sith may have gone out of the Galaxy, but their scions were very much in power on the serpent world. ______________ “How exotic.” The Cantina’s waitress gave the bartender a bitter look, and he raised his eyebrow. “You know the process. See what he is up to, the bosses want to know of anything suspicious.” She glowered at him, took a gulp of water from the stand and with a thin green scaled hand, adjusted her white and very low cut outfit to show more of her body. Perhaps for more tips, and more open mouths the serpent would hear of, then walked the short and crowded space to where Kirlocca and his friend were sitting. She took a breath and let her natural Falleen pheromones dust the area around them as she sat the two ordered drinks beside Tarvo and the Wookiee. “Gentlemen! Your drinks.” She gave them as genuine a smile a young woman could give. “What brings you to our humble bar?”

The chanting had turned from the staccato shouting of joy and worship into rhythmic a deep and guttural thing. So deep the sound of the voices that their very meaning had been lost. How long had they been chanting there? A month? How long had it been since they had word of the mighty fleet? How long had it been since countless brothers, sisters, fathers, and mothers went to gruesome death? And still they chanted to their fanged god, calling him from the depths of utter darkness. Laying worship and veneration on him, even as the ashes of their families filled the orbital planes of Nar Shaddaa. The knife came down once, cutting through tender green skin, carving through bone and tissue as another sacrifice was offered before the alter. Another young life snuffed out in a cult to a being long dead. We call to thee master. We call to your mighty throne. We call to thee Dragon. Rise and consume us. The chanting took a hash tone as the sacrificial victim struggled against her bonds, as bone knife brought forth a storm of blood to course upon the already soaked alter. CONSUME US And with a crack that shook the world, their god answered

The blaster bolt caught the man right under the chin, picking him up from the grip of his slaves and pitching him over the back of the Chariot LAV’s frame. A mist of pink blood joining a globular spray of brain matter as he slid off the back of the speeder and collapsed to the ground. The leader of the slave ring died a shuddering mess in the red dirt of the world he had worked so long to enslave. While his guards fired randomly into the crowd around them, screaming that there were snipers and gunmen to each other as they pumped brilliant scarlet rounds into fleeing Twi’leks. The Rebel Alliance had won a bloody victory here. ((Scenario Concluded))

Black eyes opened in surprise as the white blade came down. Where was the Jedi’s hesitation? Save me! But all he heard was course laughter. Echoing in his mind like a booming drum. He reached again for the void. Where his source of power always lay. Where he had learned so much. But where were the voices? Why was there suddenly only laughter? Had he been abandoned in his moment of triumph? But then there was the cold burning at his neck. And all he had striven for was lost in a single slash of a Knight's blade. And his head rolled on the wet and sticky ground. The laughter traded for burning silence.

The EMP blast enveloped the open top Chariot-LAV, killing the running engine instantly and dropping the vehicle the meter or so onto the roadway. The passengers screamed at the rapid fall, but there was no great injury, other than one of the girls who had slammed her head into the sidewall of the vehicle. Not dead, but there was a good amount of blood and she looked to be in a seizure. He grabbed the youngest red skinned Twi-Lek and held her against him as a shield as guards began to scan the skyline for any enemies.

As the blade came down their eyes flew open, revealing deeply set black eyes. Its right hand came up and almost playfully swatted aside the Imperial Knight’s blade stroke with a bare hand. With the other hand, a stone knife flickered up towards his face. The creature was beautiful and vile, seeped in the darkside. And its burned hand seemed to reform as if it had never been struck at all. “You enjoy this don’t you? You enjoy the passion. The killing.”

Two Jedi. Come to die. You gave up passion to die like rats in a cage? A beautiful face shone out of the darkness of the temple, and the force moved heavily among the mass of dancing and grinding bodies. Their passion filling the force and drowning all sense of it in organstic pleasure. Don’t you see that soon it will be over? The crack of another bowstring came from the writhing crowd.

The Chariot LAV kicked a long cloud of dust from the permacrete roadway, slashing bystanders and the guards walking beside it with a sleet of harsh dust. The Target sat high in his seat, surrounded by three very young slave girls. Two red girls and one a stark blue. The blue one sitting on his lap and all three with high ex explosive collars. The crowds were obviously hostile to him and his band of soldiers but he did not seem to care. For these were the daughters of the important nobles on Ryloth. And with them he held the planet in his hand.

The team was assembled and there was killing to do. The rebel hit team was in the market as well as Azael's team. They would only have one shot at this. And the open top Chariot LAV was coming their way

In the Dark Tower an entity stirred. The temple was thick in the smell of incense, a cloud that covered the floor and stretched into the shadowed ceilings. Girls danced in the smoke, their glistening bodies reflecting the firelight. Men danced with them in an orgy of delight and lust. “They come for us at last.” It was a sad voice, tired. Ancient.