The Dejarik Board

[King Kheldar vos Correlli]

The Dejarik Board

 

Astrographical Information

Region: Interdimensional Plane of Existence

Sector: N/A

System: N/A

Orbital Position: N/A

Moons: N/A

Grid Coordinates: N/A

 

Physical Information

Class: Metaphysical Reality

Atmosphere: N/A

Primary Terrain: Any Imaginable Setting

Points of Interest: Myriad, Dependent upon those present

 

Societal Information

Indigenous Species: All

Immigrated Species: All

Primary Language(s): All

Faction Affiliation: N/A

 

Defense Rating: N/A

 

JediRP Canon History:

 

The Dejarik Board is a name given to the purgatory state of existence within the Force for those who have not yet allowed themselves to become one with the Force, but have not yet managed to return to the physical plane of existence for any number of reasons. Its primary manifested state is literally that of a massive dejarik board, but instead of holographic pieces, there are usually enormous statues of player characters still active elsewhere. This seems to imply that the entirety of reality for any character that manages to somehow get here is nothing more than a complicated pseudo-chess game, which in any number of situations it more or less is. However, this is not the only manifestation of the board characters can experience, and in fact some that make it here may never even see that version of the board at all. They may see other scenes played out before them, some hallucinations, others mirroring events that have happened or will happen in the future. Ultimately, any character that winds up here usually needs to make a larger realization about something before they move on, whether to the eternal nether of oneness with the Force or back to a physical existence. It is a place that signifies that the character's story is not yet finished. How that significance plays out is largely dependent on the character.

 

And so, as power struggles and death play out in the galaxy, so to do the pieces move on the Dejarik Board, mirroring life. Or does life mirror the board? The answer may never be known.

 

((Summary compiled by Aryian Darkfire. Thank you!))

[John Skywalker]

At first he felt his soul being cleaved from his body... yet unlike death, there was no pain. Instead, he stood, his hands moving across the raspy floor, it was cool to the touch and as the very pooling saliva from his mouth touched his face, he opened his eyes grogilly staring about.

 

At first, he only saw a black emptiness... much like death, but then color sprang to life. He brought his hand to his face and it was cold, freezing, to be exact. As he slowly picked himself off of the floor, more came into his blurred vision... at first there was Andon and now the cool floor began to take shape. He stood on a black space in an alternating pattern of black and white spaces of solid marble.

 

All about him was nothing more than the empty darkness and then a soaring light lit up the pieces as his conscious began to take form. He first looked at Andon who was slowly coming to his feet.

 

As he considered the absence of pain he began to take more of a look at Andon, he was... translucent. While John could touch his face and feel the shock of freezing he realized, he himself was almost holographic. He approached Andon and offered him a hand, figuring this was something beyond them and conflict would prove pointless here.

 

As he went for Andon's hand, his slipped through, as if passing through air. John's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets at the realization, "So... we're... matter-less? Just great."

 

John stretched his legs... or rather what represented his legs walking about the board, strangely possessed to keep his footing only on black squares... and then his eyes befell something strange.

 

"RYU!"

 

He approached a marble figment of Ryu and stopped, the figurine even was toting the warhammer and the double-bladed lightsaber, he almost burst into laughter as the figurine likened so much to the Dark Lord down to the virtual expression of "RELEASE THE HATE!"

 

More of the figurines standing in the lines of black began to take form, Tarrian, Ar-Pharazon, Zar, Bishop and Montar. Then Sirvani, alone, hands seemingly holding onto a non-existant figure stood off to the side.

 

"I suppose, I'm supposed to be there..."

 

Renin appeared, flanked by Barton and Nahstaa, the old Serpents; Rocketblaze, Tashkri and Garet Jax.

 

Slowly... more and more of the faces that epitomize the Sith began to appear and grace the field, including even amorphous figures like Faust and Cineon, and finally Alora.

 

Hopping from black space to black space, John began to observe the army of darkness... humored at the pointlessness of it all, the realities of our existence brought down to mimics made of marble and clay.

 

He touched Sirvani, letting his matter-less hand grace her face and her left lekku, a tear almost forming at the corner of his eye.

 

He turned to find Andon staring into oblivion the same thoughts consuming them both... before John broke the deep silence.

 

"This is all your fault."

[Andon]

Nothing.

 

Death wasn't the transformation that the churches made it out to be. It wasn't the symphony that the stories made it to be”¦ no tower of lights”¦ no seas of fire; there was no all encompassing harmony and no sense of perpetual damnation.

 

There was nothing. There were only whispers and empty shadows.

 

The Force”¦ not even the Force was present in this place. He couldn't feel it”¦ he couldn't reach out to it”¦ he couldn't harness it. He stumbled into a world where not even the bounty of the Force could be touched by a Jedi Knight; perhaps the Force didn't exist on this plain”¦ perhaps he wasn't strong enough anymore to touch it. No Force”¦ just darkness and whispers in the wind. Her voice was nothing more then a subtle nudge in his mind before it moaned into a silent tsunami as it rattled and shook. Wake up”¦wake up, love”¦

 

Wake up”¦ was such a feat truly possible? Even if one was to stir from the reaches of slumber and escape the world of dreams, could we ever truly be awake? A condition such as that would be near impossible”¦ to see with taint-free clarity”¦ to understand without the manipulation of personal opinion; such a state of awareness was unattainable”¦ at least while still understand the influence of a human body that was inclined to take in corruption as its own will.

 

Darkness gave way to a blinding light as the world was stripped of colors (if it had any to begin with) and shades of gray filled his sensitive eyes as the instantaneous change caused Andon to stir to his feet. He could see John”¦ at least it looked like John, with the exception that he looked like an image that was cast with a flashlight”¦ the Skywalker was hollow from the inside out. Their hands reached out in a sign of peace, but they passed through one another like streams of water, creating only a flicker of distortion in the air.

 

”œ”¦ ****”¦”

[John Skywalker]

OOC: Pardon while I take a few liberties...

 

IC:

John's eyes blinked as he considered the Jedi's question.

 

"I've died, this isn't death, sorry to dissappoint..." as his voice trailed off in mid-contemplation the Board began to spring to life. The figures moved, leaping into respective Titanic Clashes, four new figures appearing in the far corners of the Board as History began to strum her chords.

 

Bishop leapt out from the Sith ranks and brought a crimson blade down heavily on a famed Jedi whose passing rocked the Twin Suns of Tatooine, Sly Stevenson. And, then... the pieces vanished into nothingness, blanketing out of the plane, leaving only what resembled blood droplets and a faint glow of crimson and cerulean where they had been only seconds ago. More figures began to spring into action, as the Jedi and the Sith continued their exchange.

 

"Death is not as cold. It has a different form... death is amorphous, this is like a painting. Almost as if a game... except I..."

 

John's eyes befell the great Barohm Zar spring into action his blade striking against Gantoris, the lightsabers danced for several moments until Gantoris sliced across Zar's torso and Zar impaled Gantoris. Both combatants falling in the center of the board and also blanketing out of existence.

 

"Cannot tell you who is playing... or why we are pawns."

 

More lightsabers from the Army of Darkness clashed with the Jedi spirits, numbers thinning on both sides... the Serpents, led by Rocketblaze, Tashkri, and Garet Jax against Ish, Scorp, Keiran Daz-Ex, and Armiena. Even Cineon appeared his blades dancing in the air before he was cut down by a handful of aged Padawan Learners.

 

Slowly, the Dejarik Board continues to empty itself, leaving only the faint images of an ever-increasing mound of corpses between the two rivals' steely gaze.

 

John took a step forward, or rather felt propelled forward and out of the corner of his eye he could see Barton jump to the forefront and meet Darex in mortal combat. Both falling within moments, then the Jedi Blademasters came forward.

 

Tares had vanished, taking Tarrian with her. Sauron was felled by Airleais. Hale Akturus... felled by his father, Darth Havoc. Havoc falling by a combined assault of Orrick, Leo and Mara Jade, who in turn died at the hands of Ar-Pharazon.

 

Sirvani had already leapt into battle against Fynn Relmis and both had been taken out. He could feel the emptiness at his side, his eyes closed as he saw it happened, her falling against the Jedi Knight. The Sith Apprentices who would make a name for themselves in the realm of the living had also vanished, now the odds were slimmed... down to vaunted Champions.

 

By the end of the mass death... John's eyes continued staring void of emotion as all that lay beyond them was carnage, corpses and needless bloodshed. John felt himself propelled to take another step forward, the forces of darkness were stripped to few numbers... to what they were as the battle progressed to it's fateful, anti-climactic end.

 

Ryu, Faust... and John.

 

"It seems this is our raid... on Coruscant."

[Andon]

OOC: Of course… and equally pardon my liberties…

 

IC:

 

“If this isn’t death… then what is it?”

 

Neither the Sith nor the Jedi could fathom an answer as the indifferent rivals continued to stare at one another with empty eyes; their cold glances breaking every now and then to notice the changes in the battle around them between the figures of clay and marble. The board was littered with the soot and ashes they left behind as the statues burned away to nothing; the pair actually glad they were matterless as many instances occurred where under normal circumstances they would have been cut down by wild swipes of a lightsaber.

 

There were other figures that abstained from the fight… four of them; each standing at a far corner of the board and seemingly guarding their edges. There was nothing noteworthy about them, in fact they almost seemed as out of place here as Andon and John… not so much belonging in the battle but merely appearing to just observe it. Though one of the figures was a humanoid that carried a rather large axe and looked rather disgruntled… he must have been the “unique” one of the group.

 

Amongst the chaos the Jedi felt himself compelled to take steps forward, continuing his pattern of moving only along the white squares as the number of warriors continued to diminish in their self-righteous battles. One by one they fell, until only the strongest of the strong remained… John, Kakuto and Faust representing the Sith; Ara, Talon and Andon representing the Jedi.

 

“If we’re supposed to fight, I wonder if Chuckles over there will let me use his axe… apparently I’m without my lightsaber. Though technically I can’t interact with the physical world, so perhaps I can just annoy you all to death.”

 

And with that remark the statues leapt into action as the stone entities fought with a finesse that was previously unachieved; each of their moves flowing smoothly like a dance long forgotten by the day and age of “civilization”. Andon remained motionless, allowing all the pieces to play out around him as he waited for something… for anything… the smallest glimpse that helped him realize why he was a pawn in someone else’s game. Just as quickly as the battle began it ended, the four statues collapsing into nothing as only John and Andon remained.

 

“I wonder how long we’ll have to stay here. I don’t exactly wanna spend the rest of eternity as a wise-cracking ghost.”

 

Once more his sarcasm instigated the aggravation of their unseen captor as Andon and John winked out of existence only to reappear mere feet apart from one another… the statue of Jaina between them. Before a quip could be made the stone structure reached out with both arms as her feminine hands buried themselves into their chest cavities; her slender fingers grasping Andon’s heart… her opposite hand doing the same to John. Suddenly neither one felt very matterless as a scorching pain fried out their nerve endings and the Jedi felt his knees begin to buckle… the sensation of losing himself screaming across his mind.

 

Part of the light inside of him was beginning to flicker its last breath as he could feel her fingertips bury a black flame deep in the pit of his heart as the statue of Jaina became a conduit of the light and dark. She was draining their energy and distributing it back to them as she tainted the spectrums and turned them into her own design… the Jedi’s “vision” was beginning to stretch into a realm of grays and blacks. On the right side of his face a deep gash ripped itself open along his cheek, the blood from the wound flowing to either side of the cut as a the fluid was drawn in a pair of vertical lines across the Jedi’s right temple, eyebrow, eye and cheek. Through the entirety of the ordeal, a familiar whisper echoed in his mind.

 

You never learn…

 

And from the depths of the voice’s echo, the Jedi Knight of Naboo screamed as he felt the sensation of being ripped in half.

[John Skywalker]

OOC: Writing like this makes life much easier, I can put pieces that are individual as they're strewn about the parallelism. I don't really think anyone minds being immortalized in the eyes of other characters.

 

IC:

The four new figures that appeared were vague imprints in John's consciousness; weak, ill-placed memories... nothing more than preconceived notions of immortality and ultimate power, John continued to fathom the Board, having always like dredging along the lines of the Occult and Spiritual of the Force, even as Andon's quips dragged him from his seriousness. It was calling onto "Chuckles," at first, he had seen him before... when Bishop returned from death only to fall prey to the Sith Demon of ancient lore, it was "Chuckles" that ripped or absorbed the Force from the environment. There was the young Falleen sorcerer who became something much, much more... to his right. To "Chuckle's" left stood the plague-ridden Nurgle or Onogal or what have you. That miserable fall in search of the "Holy Grail" that stung in his mind like a hangover when he attempted to fathom it. Lastly, his eyes befell a being whose beauty rivaled that of all mortal women, she struck out attracting men and women alike to the fruit of her loins, if only to consume them.

 

He had made enough sense of the Board to figure that... they were immortals and Lords of Chaos. As John was attempting to formulate the questions in his mind, he felt much more of the human frailty, of being a pawn to the whim of the Force as he was placed right infront of Andon with the small statue of Jaina in the middle. He looked at her, intrigued by her significance in all of this, for John had only known Jaina briefly... first as an Apprentice to Lord Bishop, then when she left them for the Jedi, only to return under Montar... and then, she vanished into realms unknown. John did know, as he often learnt things through meager observation of her attachment to Andon and just as all the pieces were about to fit together and his role in this begin to make sense, all his efforts proved to be in vain.

 

The statue's solid arms began to move, rapidly, almost instantly John felt the clay-like matter grip at his being, his soul... entering his ghostly countenance and gripping at his heart, or what remained buried deep in the bowels of his soul, beneath years of harvesting buried resentment and anger, reaping the strength of hatred, envy, and greed. It was this core, this hidden, buried truth that she touched and poured into it the emotions of the light, suffocating much of his darkness, blinding it with the light. Perhaps at this moment, had John the capacity for humor, he could have truthfully said, "I'm a Jedi Master w00t!"

 

Of course, humor does not come to one in the grips of mind-shattering, soul-piercing, physically-excruciating pain. Trapped within her vice grip, his knees buckled and he crumpled onto the floor as a twin gash tore open his left cheek, the blood painting streaks of crimson across his face along the temple, eyebrow and cheeks.

 

While his translucent, semi-corporeal being felt compelled to scream, the Sith Master could only hear his shrilling cries in his mind even as Andon's screams flooded his hearing.

 

A single voice spoke, You never learn.

[Andon]

OOC: Indeed. Again, forgive the liberties I've taken”¦

 

---

 

He was colder then before.

 

Though her hand was of marble and stone it was warm”¦ warm like he remembered it. So warm it was burning him; she was singeing his heart with the flames of hatred and distain. The Jedi's scream only furthered her newfound contempt as she poured the sauntered malice furiously across the fragileness of his hope and the statue of Jaina began to corrupt the fountain of light inside of him. Her anger was like fire, but the venom she spewed into him was as cold as the nothingness Andon had become”¦ it chilled him from the inside out as the poison gnawed as his conscience.

 

The light”¦ the light was so brilliant within him and now it was shining all about him”¦ so pure and so magnificent. The light so strong was slowly being pulled into the black hole that had become of his heart”¦ the woman's venom releasing the restraints that he had held onto for so long. It was Andon's own anger and dismal glory that was now diminishing the light. Darkness had come mercilessly and the light was making one last valiant stand as they raged and they warred and they screamed and they consumed every fiber of his being.

 

Divided down the middle, Andon Colos found himself in a barren wasteland that he kept close to his heart”¦ the place that his dreams died and the home in which misery itself weeps from the sin. A vacuum in which hope failed”¦ this was the place Andon called home now. From the depths of the metaphysical realm to within the plane of bittersweet vanity that John and Andon found themselves the Jedi was much the same. Compassion lost to disdain, yet mercy conquered vengeance before fear won out against hope”¦ yet life outlasted death here.

 

Darkness consumed every aspect of the once great warrior as Jaina looked at him with disgust and the Jedi's eyes pleaded to her empty stare as to why she had forsaken him. So beautiful, yet so lost; her spite was killing him and in the breaths of his last stand blue hatred crackled around the Jedi's fingertips.

 

”œ”¦ not”¦not her”¦she'd-”

[Ary the Grey]

A twitch of the cheek at first. It was slow...the Master felt as if he were dragging himself through mud, none of his limbs or muscles wanting to respond as his essence, all that he was, slowly gained consciousness. He knew where he was, and yet, he did not. With all the effort he could muster, he raised an arm, propping himself up weakly as he opened his eyes, squinting as they adjusted to the scene before him.

 

It was some sort of tiled floor, and he was laying on a white square. It wasn't the fact that the spaces were curved, or that his clothes were foreign and black that he noticed first; rather it was the lack of Force that struck him. He was used to it...relied on it. And though he had trained himself to live and operate without it, here he strangely felt weaker...as if he were missing something of great importance. Aryian looked around the empty place, pulling himself off the fridgid floor. He was cold...it was very cold here, wherever here was...

 

It was then that as he turned, he saw her. An exquisite statue, lightsaber in one hand, swaddled infant in the other. Armiena... He moved to her as best he could, getting used to moving slowly, his legs feeling weighted to the floor. He tried to run his hand down her cheek, yet it effortlessly passed through her. He half expected that, but it didn't stop the wave of sadness that passed through him.

 

There were other statues, he saw...behind her, to her side, all around him. Strange he hadn't seen them before...all major players in the galaxy, many prominent Sith and Jedi, locked in a still life combat scene. It was then that the realization dawned on him, this was a mockup of a game board.

 

"...Deeper and deeper the rabbit-hole goes..."

 

He did not know why he said it, nor did he know where the words came from, only that he said it and that he words felt right...

[Guest]

Seshat's eyes fluttered open and she woke to find herself in a completely foreign place. It wasn't the first time she had woken up without knowing where she was, but with university behind her it tended to happen alot less lately.

 

Interface, where am I?

 

You are here.

 

You're not helping.

 

A massive board seemed to stretch out before her, tiled like many game boards, with statuesque figures standing on it, arrayed for battle. Seshat felt the board calling to her, but she had yet to take her place... Movement caught her eye from one of the "pieces" and she called out.

 

"Hello? Is someone there?"

[Ary the Grey]

Aryian turned as hastily as he could upon hearing the voice hazily materialize behind him, calling out into the abyss. Someone else was here upon this plane of undeath, something other than the board and pieces which seemed to represent...the galaxy as he saw it...

 

"Who's there? Why have I been brought here?"

 

The questions were simple but intricately complex. The Master knew nothing of what was in store for him here, any more than he knew who it was that now approached him. Interestingly enough, he experienced a bit of fear, choosing to hide a bit behind his wife's statue rather than face the new presence head on, a choice he would not have normally made.

 

What is happening to me?

 

Peeking out from behind the statue, he continued to scan the board, not spotting anything...until he saw movement through a few other statues.

 

"What do you want with me?"

[Guest]

Just then, a balding man in a business suit appears, with slices of cheese on his head and shoulder. He spoke in an assertive tone and then faded away.

 

"I wear the cheese, it does not wear me."

 

Confused and unsettled by the cheese man, Seshat returned her attention to the other person that seemed to be trapped here, but not before checking her comm and finding she had no signal.

 

"Do you know how we got here? Or where here is? I can't seem to get a signal on my comm."

[Ary the Grey]

The Master stepped from behind his cover, exposing himself, only now realizing the garb he wore, greyish robelike pants with no top. His physique was muscular, but he felt weak here, and large scars crisscrossed his body. And then, he understood. Finally it had all come together, the game board, the lack of Force, the clothing...everything but the girl. But if she was here...that would only mean one thing. Or so he thought. Always room for error and correction.

 

"I believe I now know how I got here...you however...I do not. Where this is exactly, is a question I do not believe that can be answered, as this place is not in existence. And me..."

 

He turned back to look at the statue of his wife, which began to slowly yet obviously crumble to dust as he looked at it, and with new understanding in his eyes, he continued.

 

"I am here to see the truth. The one thing I've sought. It's all so clear now..."

 

He felt energy return to him, the riddles of this place no longer holding power over him. It was not the Force, but it was...life.

 

"And now that you have found what you seek, Master of the Dark Fire...you must make a choice."

 

Aryian spun sharply to his left as the soft whisper seemed to reverberate loudly around where he stood. A beautiful bright shining woman stood there, resplendent and terrifying all at the same time. This was a being who embodied power...a very essence made from pure Force. A Force God, some might say.

 

"I don't understand."

 

"The choice is simple. You don't believe you can simply achieve things without consequence? To gain something, you must give up something of equal or lesser value. This is the law of the universe...the cosmos. It cannot be bent, it cannot be broken."

 

"What is the choice, then?"

 

"You may keep all the knowledge you have gained...the wisdom, the understanding, but at the cost of everyone you have ever loved or cared for."

 

The Master took a step back, appalled at such a choice.

 

"I'll never choose that over them. What kind of person would I be if I allowed that to happen?"

 

"A powerful one. But the choice has been made. A deal has been forged. And now you will face your consequences."

 

"Wait, no! Who are you? Why was I given this chance? What is my purpose?"

 

A wicked yet tender grin spread across the face of the Force goddess as the Master felt the equivalent of a searing pain across his entire body, and he fell to the floor of the board, his eyes locked on the being even as he passed out from the pain. He thought he saw her mouth words before he went under, giving in to the blackness that gingerly embraced him.

 

 

 

Mortal fool...

 

For someone who knows so much, you know so very little at all...

[Ronin Wartide]

Ronin squinted his eyes shut, awakened by a sudden jolt of pain. His face was cold and numb from the hard cold stone floor he found beneath him. He pressed his hands to the floor, lifting himself off the ground. He watched fragments of exploded building and sweat drop from his hair onto the bright white tile.

 

No-

 

Remembering the fall, he threw his head up to get a view, finding only looming darkness. Fearing his glasses broken, the old pirate discarded them.

 

"Wha-"

 

It was then that he realized that the tone and color of his hand was gone, cast off for a pale white haze. He stood up slowly, following the ghostly white wash from his palm to his boot in confusion.

 

"Ergh... What kind of witchcraft is this?" He whined.

 

He glanced slowly around trying to make out shapes in the oppressive darkness. Ronin's eyes sharpened around a moving silhouette.

 

"What have you done?"

[Darth Furion]

Blinked into darkness, the Sith stirred from the hot black marble he found himself upon, its surface smoothed and polished to perfection. As he rose he found his footing unsure on the slick floor and stumbled to catch himself. The floor burned his exposed left palm like the barrel of an E-Web after dumping a few cells. He tried to scream in pain, but no sound escaped him. His mind teetered on fear for a second until he let the pain speak to him, bring him focus. Take control, assess the situation. Where am I? He extended his senses as far as he could manage, yet to no avail. No matter what direction he searched, he found nothing, saw...nothing. He was alone. He began to settle into the thought when nothingness was torn asunder.

 

"What kind of witchcraft is this?"

 

The question exploded into existence in a great booming voice, and the Master dropped to the floor and glared daggers in the direction the pirate's question sprang from. In his world of black, a pinprick of light shone upon the horizon like a dying star, ready to go nova. Something about it sent a shiver down Julio's spine, something...familiar yet long forgotten. He tried to narrow his focus, but as he did so his mind immediately began to reel as all sense of direction failed him. He felt himself being pulled forward, or he was running, but his head swam upon turbulent seas and he could not find his way. Where was he, where was he going? The light flashed and twinkled as he spun about, but in never seemed to get any closer. Faster and faster he felt himself falling, yet he felt as if he were going nowhere in respect to the only point of reference he had; the light. Was it going to explode? Was he going to get swept up in its shock wave? Did it really end here?

 

No. He said in coveted whispers to no one in particular. Just...no.

 

Julio stood on a black tile, hot as ever, yet now a whole Dejarik board stood as his only plane. Or rather, their plane. A single circle stood in the middle, with two rings around it of checkered squares. On the far side of the board stood Ronin, somewhat translucent as the light of the white squares cut through him like he was made of foggy glass. Behind the pirate a never ending span of white lay as his background.

 

"What have you done?"

 

His father's voice was clear now, as it would normally be, save for a little distant across the wide board. Julio glanced behind his back and saw only darkness, it's dimensions undecipherable. He returned his father's gaze with only a curious smile.

 

Oh, yeah. I did this. He said with just barely enough sarcasm to be noticed. Not that Ronin would miss it. He never missed a thing, did he?

[Ronin Wartide]

"Fine then. I did it with my crazy gambling magic."

 

Ronin took a labored step onto the square in front of him, his feat growing heavy as he attempted his second. The oppressive darkness began to give weigh to murky gray, swirling like clouds. Cast in empty blackness looming over the tiles that flanked Julio, Ronin saw towering monstrosities.

 

Ronin fell to his knees at the edge of the dark square, unable to continue. The weight of grim possibilities began to loom in his mind. Perhaps he were dead already, killed in the collapsing Black Sun Citadel. And if it were true, did it mean Julio was dead too? Or was this all a sick game to appease the cruel monster the Sith had made of Julio?

 

Alone in his half circle of the perceived playing field, Ronin ground his teeth bitterly. This world, hallucination, illusion or otherwise left him feeling nothing but dread and sorrow. He wished the drugs would wear off, the sun would rise, and the hangover would scream him back to the waking world.

 

"If this is a Dejarik Board..." Ronin thought as he looked up at the still silhouette of his son.

 

"...then where the hell are my pieces?"

[Darth Furion]

The veil split around him yet Julio calmly paid them no heed, his golden eyes never leaving Ronin. A single square was all the pirate seemed to be able to manage, perplexity marring his sly scoundrel smile. Even here, in this unknown and entirely unnatural world, hostility and purpose still in question, the Sith relished the visage of his father so removed from his elements. True, Julio was in the same boat, but there was no reason he couldn't take what little pleasures he could from it. He couldn't help but feel at ease at his father's unease. Finally, Julio seemed to have the upper hand on the old man.

 

Funny you should ask.

 

More and more the veil tore asunder around him, split wide as if darkness itself were begetting everything terrible at the Sith's disposal. Some held shape like tools or things, while others retained vague likenesses that only stirred one's mind to fill in the gaps. As they slithered into position, Julio only now took a look at these creatures as they stood beside him. He recognized most, people or things he had once used to climb to where he was now, but some were still unfamiliar to him. Their masses remained indeterminate, yet still there was a feeling of 'what has yet to be'.

 

My pieces seem to be some semblance of the people I associate with outside this...world. I would assume yours would spawn of a similar nature. But wait!

 

Julio held up his hand to his brow to shield his eyes from the glaring light behind his father, slowly surveying the horizon.

 

I see none of your friends, Father. No family, no coworkers. Nothing.

 

As the final pieces took up their squares, now taking up a great deal of Julio's board, the Master lowered his hand and took a single unhindered step forward into a white square.

 

Where do you think they went, I wonder? He was good enough at projecting emotion in his voice and mannerisms enough that he could have masked the patronizing undertones and wide smile if he wanted. For now, however, he saw no reason to do such a thing. Here, alone with his Father, in an environment where he seemed to have the leverage, Julio had nothing to hide. For the first time in a long time, he felt himself. He felt alive.

[Ronin Wartide]

"I must have..."

 

Ronin bit his tongue, turning away from the terrible visages in disgust. The board seemed to be charging through a tunnel now, long alternating stripes of durasteel gray stretched as far forward and behind as they could see. Ronin froze as he spied human shapes in a even line beyond the edge of the board.

 

"Corban?" Ronin's eyes strained to make out the features of the crude stone Facsimiles. He saw in the jagged curves of the marble figure the vague semblance of his brother's face.

 

"Corban, Luthis Vanden and Moon Knight. Or whoever Moon Knight used to be. The first space pirates. Until we were obliterated by the Hutts, that is."

 

Ronin continued down the line, to three Heavily armed soldiers in close file.

 

"Tekkan Raas, Rane Scando, Friggen' Mike--The Elite Mercenaries. These men taught me my trade. They made me who I am today. Time stole the mercs from me. Who knows where they went."

 

Both with Chain Axes over their shoulder, the next two brought a smile to his face.

 

"Duo and Black are still around. As if my Pariahs could be stopped. I could get their asses on the board if they'd answer my calls."

 

Ronin glanced at the rather striking likeness of Quintus, bottle in hand. He hesitated, trying to recall his name.

 

"Drunk Guy, Kheldar, Bekka, That Sith named John, Kat and-" Ronin shuttered at the morose expression on the face of his once Fiance.

 

"Zara..." He halted on the twins, only knee high at her side. "...Kalyani and Kane."

 

Ronin's express grew strained as he studied face of a noble woman and the young boy at her waist.

 

"If they're off the board, then it must be because they are all lost to me."

 

Ronin took a step backward into the innermost ring of the great circle. The grave emptiness of his life and all the people he had failed to keep in tore at his very soul. He had so much to be guilty for. What had happened to the soldiers he had forfeited, The Brother he'd driven off, The Men whose lives he'd thrown away, The women he had scorned or The children he had abandoned? Did he even have the right to wonder why they weren't there to answer his call when he needed allies by his side?

 

"So I'm all alone versus the world. These are the odds I'm used to after all. A generous application of pugilism and alcohol, and I'll be out of this crazy hoodoo. You'll see."

 

Ronin reached in his coat, turning around to dump the contents of a flask down his throat. Discarding the empty container over his shoulder, He raised his fists up and began sizing up the amorphous abominations that rallied behind Julio. He threw a few punches in the air, warming up for what he was fairly certain was to be a serious ass kicking.

[Darth Furion]

That. That right there is what I'm talking about. His eyes flared with fury but his body remained statuesque, mindful not to waste his move on his own anger. It can't end. Not yet.

 

You talk about everything you've lost, how you've driven away EVERY SINGLE PERSON IN YOUR LIFE! Yet this....guilt you seem to be burdening yourself with. It isn't real! You....you don't even really CARE! You feel guilt because it is....the suitable emotion for your given circumstance.

 

Clenched fists was about all he could manage to contain the rising flame in his chest. He wanted to jump in the middle circle with Ronin, liquored up and ready to fight, and crater that smug smile of his beyond recognition. He wanted to shatter every bone, tear every tendon, let loose every drop of blood. But for now screaming was all he allowed himself.

 

You spend all your time alone, drunk, drowning in self pity. Oh, I'm such a bastard! I don't deserve happiness. I had everything and I pissed it away! You know what, Father? Over the years I've made a point to study you. The people you chose to side yourself with, the people you considered friends, the jobs you pulled, why you pulled them, where you've been. Everything. The funny thing is, as I began to know you, or rather who you used to be, I found myself actually seeing you as the father figure in my life. I could have respected you, I could have looked up to you. I could have been happy. I could have been your son.

 

The dismal grey of the sky began to let loose its sorrow, and raindrops the size of fists terrorized the world around them. Julio's army of featureless shades rejoiced in reverie as the heavens cracked open in one thunderous explosion. Julio wasn't holding back anymore. He couldn't, even if he wanted to. Something about this place compelled him to pour out his heart, to show his father who he truly was.

 

But you're just a coward. Unexpectedly, even to himself, anger gave way to disgust and pity. You left me on Kashyyyk because you were afraid you'd screw up my life. You left the twins with their mother because you were afraid you'd I am Groot up their lives. You sat alone in your bar all those years because you were afraid you'd destroy the galaxy. You had EVERYTHING! The galaxy spread itself for you, and you went limp and checked out. You don an air of confidence, an ego that would crush a lesser man, but its all a show.

 

Rain fell, unforgiving and relentlessly. In silence between them, the hammering drops stood as the only sound on the massive plane, lost in obscurity to Julio's truth. Head bowed to avert Ronin's wounded gaze, he took a moment to collect himself. Don't forget why you're here.

 

When he returned his gaze upon his father, it was with contrails of bloody tears on a backdrop of somber judgment reluctantly passed. You lost everything to carelessness, Legion broke and became many at the Master's word, command obscured in conversation. A nameless shade broke rank and charged toward the center of the board. Fresh from the mass it looked like any other, but in the few quick strides driving it toward Ronin the featureless demon took the visage of Corban, sadistic glee wide on his nostalgic grin. The moment it crossed the circle it disappeared, appearing behind the pirate in the same heartbeat. Corban, or whatever the shade was, poured every ounce of its being into a single blow to Ronin's right kidney, and promptly faded from the board, its purpose served.

 

Ignorance, A second shade broke rank, this time taking on the form of Moon Knight. This time, the moment it broke through the center circle it did not disappear, but instead rocketed forward with his jet pack and drove his fist as hard into Ronin's stomach as he could, fading with the power of the punch delivered.

 

Self delusion, With Ronin doubled over, Quintus stood next to him, polishing off the last of a bottle before shattering it over the pirate king's skull, sending him to the ground and the shade away like those before it.

 

Self restriction, The twins, no more than eight or nine, now stood to his right and left. The pirate coughed and sputtered, trying despirately to regain what little breath autonomic reaction would allow, yet they only stared down at him, expressionless, dead. Together they wrapped themselves around his arms and brought him upright. Little Kane grabbed a fistful of his father's hair and pulled Ronin's head up to meet Julio's unforgiving anger.

 

And fear. In that instant Julio stood before Ronin. No transition, no movement, it simply was. Looking down at his father this felt to be a defining moment for the Sith. A pivotal turning point that would shape who he was to become. Ingrained in every man in the galaxy was the very real fear of becoming a patricide. Loathed beyond measure, a man who kills his father is the lowest of the low, the filth of which all filth is compared. Should he care, does it even matter? With what might he could summon Julio drove his fist underneath Ronin's jaw, breaking the twin's hold and throwing him several squares outside the center circle.

 

If there is one thing I absolutely ****ing hate, it's wasted potential. And dad, you are the gorram poster boy.

[Ary the Grey]

For the longest time, what seemed like eternity, Aryian watched. It was all he could do in this limbo, this place between worlds that words could not describe. For many, it appeared as a Dejarik board, a fitting metaphor to this place, strong in the Force and the eventual rest stop for those who had fallen off the mortal coil yet whose stories were not finished. It had appeared as such many times before to the grey Jedi, but he knew better. It was only an illusion, a way his mind could cope with what he could not see. But if he focused and calmed himself, he knew he could see and understand the various patterns in this place, echoes of his own universe which he called home.

 

Very recently his doppelganger had been in a battle, and had expended a lot of his energy. If he focused... For the first time in a long time in the eons of this infinite expanse of space and time, Aryian closed his eyes, no longer concentrating on the universe at large, but instead focusing inwards on himself.

 

He would have little time.

[Darex Trevelian]

Slowly, light began to dawn again.

 

Slowly, Darex Trevelian gradually became aware of his surroundings.

 

It wasn’t a completely foreign experience. Since his death at the Coruscant Memorial, Darex had occasionally manifested in the mortal plane as a Force ghost. Time had no meaning in the Force, so he was never able to understand how long had passed between those manifestations, or how he knew when he was able to visit again. But that didn’t bother the former Jedi Grandmaster. There was no ignorance; there was knowledge.

 

Most of the time, he was able to choose where and to whom he manifested. He took those precious opportunities to visit his wife and children. Darla hadn’t forgiven him, although he knew that deep down she understood. She understood how he had done what he had done to save them. That it had been a price he was glad to pay. The twins had been quicker to accept the new reality. He thought it helped them, being able to see him and talk to him, but their sorrow nonetheless was strong. When he was present, he felt sympathetic pain for them, but when he was gone, that emotion faded. There was no real emotion in the Force, only peace. No passion, only serenity.

 

He had also been able to stay vaguely aware of what was transpiring the galaxy. The Force was everywhere, and he was one with it. But he had no control over what the Force would show him. Once, he had spent a long time watching a flower grow from a tiny seed into a full bloom. The next moment, he was aware of a massive fight breaking out in the Mandalore sector, lead by a Sith lady. But those things balanced in the Force. There was no chaos; there was harmony.

 

Now as he looked around, he saw that he was standing on a massive dejarik board. Curious, he thought. The light continued to grow, a yellowish light that came from various points around the board. Moving over to one, he saw that the light was coming from a series of fire-burning torches that lined the area.

 

This was something new. Before he had always been shown things that were happening, or had happened, in the galaxy. Now it seemed as if the stage was being set for something bigger.

 

As he waited, he suddenly realized that figures were appearing on the board. On one side, there stood two rows of people Darex had been privileged to fight and work alongside: Armiena Draygo-Darkfire, Shy-Ree, Seraphim, Ulos Rolan, Aerec Blackwood, Rai Jin, his fellow Grandmaster Kirlocca, Onderin Starlisk, Ish Ka Bibl, Camsie, Nivana, Kitt Fitt, Fynn Relmis, Tares Vortex. Skye Organa and Darla stood in the positions of the queen and king.

 

On the other side, he saw his foes. Jidai Geki and Vladimir Faust were in the two central positions, flanked by Trith, Julio Furion, Kakuto Ryu, Trowa Barton, Black, Haphaestus, Rane Scando, Nahstaa, dark Shy-Ree, dark Ulos, dark Fynn, an Arach’tar soldier, a stormtrooper, and a SEED guard.

 

As he watched from the side, several things began to happen. The figurines didn’t move, but as he looked at them, it was as if a giant screen came to life above the board, revealing a succession of events.

 

First he saw a Sith he had never before met, but knew by reputation. Darth Quietus was lying in a tomb, surrounded by chanting cultists and the woman he had met once, Emily. There was a moment of death and blood, and then Quietus rose from the tomb. He proceeded to go into a rage, then gruesomely kill all the cultists in the tomb just as another woman entered it.

 

The scene then changed to more people ransacking a library in a tower, picking through the rubble of the Coruscant Memorial, stalking along a beach, infiltrating another ruin, and then alongside Nightsisters with purple whisps of a spell starting to stream forth. The Force seemed to impress on him that they all belonged to the same cult.

 

The stream of images stopped, and then a new set began to play. This time, he was shown an epic fight, Kirlocca versus Haphaestus. The Force crystallized around them in a massive shatterpoint. Darex was certain that whatever the outcome, as lightsaber clashed on dark staff and a third person with a dark presence lurked off to the side, it would have galactic ramifications.

 

A third set of images began after another pause. This showed a map, pieces entering and being removed. Fleets were being built up again; the galaxy was militarizing once more. Conflicts sprang up. Plague swept Coruscant. Black Sun was decimated, but a new force was rising in the criminal underworld. The Sith were already beginning to strike out. We do not comply. Jedi were attempting to respond, but they were few and divided. Senators were bickering in the Galactic Alliance Senate, and the black-haired woman who had represented the Empire in the Death Star Treaty sat alone and small in an office that was too big for her.

 

Finally, the images refocused on a planet Darex recognized as Onderon. There, he saw Skye standing alongside a CoreSec officer, bravely facing down a man Darex knew too well. Faust appeared weak, and not whole. There was something off about the man. It was as if it wasn’t really him. But as a fight broke out and Skye was captured and dragged into the tombs, it became clear that regardless of who he really was, this Faust-imitation was a serious threat to galactic stability.

 

The pictures faded, and once again, Darex was left in the flickering light of the torches.

 

“Servant of the Force,” a voice spoke from behind him. “A choice lies before you.”

 

Darex turned and came face-to-face with a colorless, glowing image of a woman. She was of an indeterminate age, and dressed in gray robes. Bright hair flowed down her back. Her face showed a vitality and her eyes sparkled with warmth and kindness, but there was clearly a hard core to her, rigid and shimmering with raw unbridled power. He knew who she was. While he had never before seen her, he felt like he had known her all his life. But still… “You don’t look as I expected you to,” he said with a touch of amusement.

 

She smiled. “I take many forms. The shape I embody is a reflection of the life force around me.”

 

He bowed his head. “You spoke of a choice?” he asked.

 

“Indeed,” she replied. Her voice sounded feminine, but when she spoke, it was as if he could hear a thousand other voices murmuring alongside hers, echoing her words. She paused, then continued. “You have been shown the darkness creeping over the galaxy once more. The balance is tipping. The galaxy may soon slide in favor of the dark.”

 

“It consistently does,” Darex replied. “But it always tips back again. Balance always prevails in the end.”

 

She smiled. “You have come to understand, yes. There cannot be light without darkness or life without death. Both sides require champions. The dark has theirs. But who does the light have?”

 

He glanced at the stone figures standing around him and gestured. “There are many who will stand for the light. Their flames have not all been snuffed out.”

 

“Much chaos is yet to come to the mortal realm,” she replied. “That, however, is not of what I speak. I speak of you. A combination of possibilities have come together, and that provides you an opportunity. An opportunity to rejoin the galaxy once more.”

 

Even in his serene state, astonishment shot through him. A chance to return to the galaxy? To be reborn? To live again? It wasn’t completely inconceivable, but Darex had long ago come to terms with being “dead”. Death wasn’t an end, and he had been at rest here. He had achieved what he had spent his whole life pursuing--oneness with the Force. The galaxy was death, and pain, and suffering, and growing old, and losing people dear to you. There, he had always been broken. Here, he was complete.

 

“Haven’t I earned my rest?” The words slipped out, but he couldn’t feel ashamed of them, not here.

 

“You have been a faithful Servant,” the Force-woman replied. “You have done all I could have asked of you. But know that if you choose to return, you will yet play a pivotal role in bringing peace and justice to the galaxy.”

 

He paused. “Is it your will that I return?”

 

She smiled again, more kindly this time. “For once, that choice is yours completely. It is my gift to you. No being can choose his fate, but in this case, an exception is being made. Chances such as this are rare. Choose wisely.”

 

Silence fell as Darex turned the choice over in his mind. His instinct and desire was to stay. What being would choose to leave heaven to return to hell? It was foolishness. His human heart demanded that he think of himself, that he continue to rest in the reward for his decades of sacrifice.

 

But Darex had spent his whole life trying to be selfless. To think of others first. To put the needs of the galaxy above his own needs. He hadn’t always succeeded, but he had come to realize that trying counted for much. He knew he had no obligation or duty to return. It boiled down to one thing, then: who was Darex Trevelian?

 

It was a question he had thought he had known the answer to, back in life. Father, Master, Jedi. Servant of the Force. But now that the choice had been put before him, he discovered he had the chance to yet be something else. Was he a Servant of the Force, or was he more? Was he also a Servant of the Galaxy?

 

He began to wander through the dejarik pieces. Trowa Barton seemed to mock him. ”You are a hypocrite for even thinking of staying. Didn’t you always say your life was a sacrifice?”

 

But Shy-Ree rose up to counter him. ”Leave him alone, Trowa. He deserves peace after everything he’s been through. We never made it easy on him. Betrayed by those he cared about. Who would blame him for not wanting to put himself back in that situation again?”

 

His eyes turned to Aerec. ”The chance to choose is a precious gift, even though it often doesn’t feel like it. I know you’ll make the right decision, Master.”

 

”Is there such thing as a right decision, though?” Armiena asked. ”I know I’ve made many wrong ones, so there must be such thing. But I think we all just have to do the best we can and live with the consequences. And there will be consequences, Darex. If I know anything, it’s that.”

 

”Indeed there will be.” Faust’s mocking laughter echoed through the chamber. ”The galaxy is chaos, my dear Darex. Fighting against that is endlessly useless. No matter how hard you try, you can’t keep the darkness back forever, and you know it. You even sacrificed yourself to stop me, and now look at how quickly the light of that noble sacrifice has faded from the galaxy.”

 

”But even a candle can hold the darkness back,” Skye countered softly. ”And if you be the Jedi I know you are, you will be more than a candle. You still have the chance to do good again, to bring healing to this broken galaxy. The Jedi will endure no matter your decision. But if you return, fewer families will be torn apart, fewer lives shattered by evil. If you think that is worth it, then you know what to do.”

 

There was no chaos in Darex’s mind; on the contrary, he felt utter peace with each decision. It was true freedom, freedom to choose without any pressure either way. But the choice was simple. With a rush of certainty, Darex knew who he was. It was who he had always been meant to be. He was a shield. A servant. A light in the darkness. And that was who he would always be. No matter what the cost, he would give of himself to save and protect those he could.

 

“I’ve got to go back, don’t I?” he asked. It wasn’t a reluctant statement, although a measure of sadness came with it. He’d miss this place of peace.

 

As soon as he spoke, he noticed that the scene was changing. The pieces disappeared into a deep gray mist, and the circle of light contracted until it lit only a small circle around him. Even the glowing Force manifestation vanished. As he peered into the mist, he saw one last vision:

 

Three children huddled in a small circle. One he didn’t recognize, but the other two were his beloved Jax and Alana. They were holding hands, and Darex could almost sense them reaching out to the Force.

 

He turned from the scene. The glowing Force-lady was hovering off to the side, her light warming the grey mist with hints of sunshine. He nodded at her with a wise look in his eyes. “One day, I’ll be here to stay. But as long as I have the chance, I will serve you. It is who I was meant to be. And I’m not done yet.”

 

And with that, he stepped towards the scene of the children. The dejarik board faded into silver mist, and the beach scene grew sharper and clearer with each passing second. But it wasn’t like the previous times he had manifested in the physical world. This time he smelled the salty sea air. He could feel the warmth of the sun. He gasped and fell to his knees, bending double.

 

There was a spray of water that drenched him. Darex Trevelian lived once more.

[Raia Montar]

Raia Montar never expected to wake up, let alone wherever “here” was. The last thing she remembered was looking into her father’s dark eyes just before he kissed her on the forehead and snapped her neck.

 

Cautiously, she got up and looked around for the presence that had made her a prisoner within her own body and then used it to try to kill her father.

 

The floor was in a large alternating pattern of black and white marble squares and little else beyond. Confused, the Warrior King's daughter sat down in the center of the squares (that she was just now beginning to realize looked similar to a game board she’d seen in Furion’s library during her isolation on Spite Station.)

So the gameboard finally reveals itself, she thought as she looked down to the square she was standing on. From the time she’d was taken by the Nightsisters, she’d felt as though she were merely a pawn in some game between greater forces. It was oddly comforting now that the truth of it had revealed itself.

 

The clothes she was wearing weren’t the ones she’d died in - and she knew she’d died. A grey, sleeveless, wrap tunic had replaced the thin-strapped tank she’d worn to bed, and darker grey leggings were tucked into light grey boots.

 

Pulling her knees closer to her, she tried to make sense of why she as here. Sure there was the whole “dead” thing, but whatever she’d imagined for the afterlife, it certainly hadn’t been this. As she pondered the events that lead to her death, she realized that Raynuk had opted to give her mercy instead of letting her continue to live with that vile presence rotting her from the inside out. “But now what?” she wondered out loud.

 

A loud bark caught her attention, and she turned just in time to see the white form of Vex’aedr materialize and come bounding toward her. The memory of being trounced like a toy by the great beast, just moments before as far as she knew, caused her to shy back from him as he skidded to a halt and then subsequently continued to slide past her, apparently not having expected the slippery terrain.

 

Then she heard the sound of Ar-Pharazon's laughter behind her and turned to see the form of a man bearing the same golden eyes she’d seen in the mirror, grinning triumphantly at her. “The game is not over Little One. Come now, I can teach you to be strong,” he beckoned as he advanced a square toward her.

 

Raia’s mouth went dry, but the knowledge of what he’d forced her to do was fresh in her mind and helped her to focus enough to push the fear back. She was done being a pawn. With a silent apology to Raynuk for breaking her promise, she turned and ran toward the edge of the board and leaped into the nothing beyond the board.

 

She would not be the Sith Lord’s puppet again.

[Raia Montar]

Something warm and wet slapped against her cheek, causing her to roll away then something nudged her to her feet. “Vex?” she asked, curious as to why she wasn’t falling any longer. Maybe death has no meaning on the board, she mused as the tuk’ata nuzzled her while her mind tried to make sense of something she figured was never meant to.

 

The utter stillness and soundlessness of everything other than the soft breathing she could hear from the guardian tuk’ata, would have left her utterly unsettled were it not for his presence beside her. It took her a moment to place why the walls and fixtures surrounding her were so familiar, despite being at odd angles and being smashed or pancaked together.

 

“This is Alora’s home in the sky,” she remarked, more to break up the silence than anything else. Vex followed her closely as she picked her way toward the door, only to find it completely blocked. “I guess we’ll have to find another way out. I wonder what happened?”

 

The tuk’ata looked back at her before walking past toward the roof exit. Dutifully Raia followed him, only then noticing how wrong the view from what remained of the windows was.

 

Moments later she and Vex emerged onto the slanted roof where he motioned for her to get on his back, before leaping over the barrier with one great bound. They landed in soft, green grass with an “oof” from Raia, who hadn’t expected the ground to be so near.

 

Sliding down from his back, she looked around at what appeared to be a small town of rounded brilliantly colored little houses and narrow streetways that were just as vivid in a riot of color, though all were completely devoid of any signs of life. In the center of what might have been a town square was a spiral road that appeared to be glowing in it’s own translucent shades of purple, blues, greens, and the occasional flash of yellow.

 

Completing her circuit, the sound of a wet slap slap slap caught her attention as she returned to the spot where the skyscraper had fallen and she saw the fleshy stump of a slimy tail writhing in the last throes of life before the sound and the disgusting movement stopped. Had the Alora’s apartment building landed on someone or something?

 

There was a tittering of laughter that made her whirl around, her hand going for a lightsaber that wasn’t there. Beside her Vex crouched and growled, but there was no evidence of where the sound had come from, though there was a figure that appeared to be getting closer as she came in on her speeder, whooshing over Raia’s head and crashing it into the wreckage of the skyscraper.

 

Raia took off at a run down the length of the ruined building, stopping short when the figure - dressed in purple robes, tunic, and tabards - came striding toward her, hood down, dusting herself off, and picking a piece of debris from her long chestnut hair.

 

“Are you a Sith or a Jedi?” She demanded.

 

“I-I don’t know. I just want to go home,” Raia admitted.

“What about him?” The woman pointed to Vex.

With a wary eye, Raia looked at the woman growing even more confused. “No...he’s a tuk’ata.”

 

“Well I guess it doesn’t matter either way, but the Younglings wanted to know your intentions. That’s why they called me.”

“I intend to go home, back to Raynuk, my father. What’s a ‘Youngling’ and why do they care what my intentions are?”

“Because you killed the Wickedest Sith in the East,” She explained, as though it made all the sense in the world. “The Great and Gluttonously Glorious Sheog the Mad, though that last part, I don’t think any dared to utter in his presence if they liked to still keep living...Something about a devouring insanity that tends to keep a populace in line and all that…”

“Wait. I didn’t kill anyone,” Raia protested, not wanting to think about what might have happened if she hadn’t been able to pull back the initial knife cut the spirit of Ar-Pharazon had intended as his first strike against Raynuk. “I died, and that’s how I ended up here, at least I think that’s what happened.”

“You brought the skyscraper with you, did you not?” The hooded figure gestured toward the building. “And summarily dropped it on His Gluttonous’s head, well body. It’s all the same thing when you’re a Hutt, I suppose. You can still see a bit of his tail sticking out just there.” Raia followed her finger to the place where the sound had been coming from moments before. “And now the Younglings want to know if you’re a Sith or a Jedi?”

 

“My father is a Sith,” Raia answered before asking again, “What is a Youngling?”

 

The figure gave an exasperated sigh and threw back her hood, revealing the face of Tirzah’s mother,“I didn’t ask who or what your father was, dear. I asked who you are.”

 

“But you know who I am Jaina…” Raia protested, suddenly not too sure of her own assessment of the woman before her. “I’m Raia Montar. I am the daughter of the Warrior King of the Sith, but I don’t know yet what that makes me. I just want to go home. Can you help me?”

 

But Jaina, only smiled and turned away from her and began beckoning to the gardens, homes, and forest that surrounded the little village. Slowly at first, then coming all out in a rush, Raia found herself and Vex surrounded by scores of small beings from far more species than the Dathomiri-born girl had ever seen. Cheers and sounds of jubilation won out over Raia’s protests that she wasn’t here to liberate anyone, she just wanted to get home to her father.

 

An explosion echoed through the valley, bringing an abrupt halt to the merry-making in the Youngling Town Square. There, Lord Ar-Pharazon in all his glory stood, erect and terrible. The scroll that showed his pure heritage from Marka Ragnos and the powerful Lords of the Sith hung from a golden cord around his waist, the lightsabers of his fallen foes hung likewise in a metal skirt that nearly touched his feet.

 

“Alright, who killed my boy - Hutt - whatever?”

[Raia Montar]

Raia instinctively backed up on the dais she was standing on, even as Vex’aedr stepped in front of her, growling at Ar-Pharazon as he glowered at the crowd before his gaze snapped behind the hulking form of the tuk’ata to meet the eyes of the girl that Raynuk held so dear. His sneer twisted into a cruel, self-satisfied grin as he saw the fear in the young girl’s eyes and the frightened shouts and cries of the Younglings as they scrambled for cover.

“What’s the matter Little One...that’s what he used to call you right?” he taunted moving his head this way and that as he slowly advanced toward the platform. “Dear old Tētis. Women always were Raynuk’s greatest weakness,” he gave a short, barking laugh.

“Seems he decided to get himself a miniature one to play with this time. Too bad for him you won’t be making it back.” He reached forward, drawing on the Force to pull Raia bodily into the grip of his outstretched hand where his hand closed around her neck much like Raynuk’s had done Force knew how long prior.

 

Vex’aedr barked out and moved to charge him, but the Sith Master issued a command to the tuk’ata, leveraging both will and malice - Sit. Stay.

 

Vex’aedr however, did not back down from Ar-Pharazon’s orders. The tuk’ata took a single step back when the command, as powerful as it was, slammed into its mind, but almost immediately took two more steps forward to defy the legendary Sith Master.

 

“Defiant to your doom and failure, just like your creator.” Ar-Pharazon laughed towards the tuk’ata, raising his free hand towards Vex’aedr. “If you won’t sit, stay, and be obedient then you can go.”

As though he was flicking an invisible piece of debris from his sleeve, Ar-Pharazon sent Vex rolling and bouncing across the ground, taking one last bounce back into what Raia had identified as Alora’s apartment, out of sight.

 

Turning back as he raised his arm so she was dangling in the air slightly and his golden eyes met hers once more. “Poor little, Raia. Meddling where she shouldn’t and finding herself far deeper down the rabbit hole and her only father she's ever known deciding death was preferable to Exorcism,” His grip tightened as she struggled against him. “He’s banished me for the last time,” he growled, “and you’ll do as payment.”

Raia felt her consciousness slipping; then she felt another’s hand grip her own. Suddenly the pressure on her neck released as she fell to the ground, Ar-Pharazon being thrown several meters clear of where he’d been standing before. Before she could piece together what was happening, that same someone tugged on her arm, and when she glanced up, she saw it was Jaina, only it wasn’t her at the same time.

 

Risking a glance over her shoulder, she saw Vex at a full run pounce on Ar-Pharazon before bounding to her side. Whatever this not-Jaina had done, it had weakened the maleficent Sith Lord enough that he was too stunned to give chase.

 

Raia was not about to let the opportunity to put as much distance between herself and the former Dark Lord go to waste.

[Raia Montar]

Raia wasn’t sure how long or how far they ran down the glowing crystal road, but they didn’t exactly keep to that path either. Various trees and fields whirled by as the woman in the purple robes drug her ever onward into the landscape. Finally, they reached a series of cornfields before Raia dug in and demanded they stop.

“Who are you?” the teenage girl demanded, rubbing her wrist. “What is this place? And what did Telperien’s father mean ‘I won’t be making it back’?”

“Raia, you have nothing to fear from me, know that first and foremost,” the woman answered. “I don’t readily have a form of my own, or it was lost so long ago I can’t remember what I looked like, so I took one from your mind that you trusted.”

 

Raia’s eyes narrowed at the woman as she jerked her hand away and stepped back. “I knew you weren’t Tirzah’s mother,” she spat as Vex’aedr ducked his head low to the other woman and growled. “I’ll ask again. Who are you? Where are we? And what do you want from me?”

“Anyone ever tell you, you ask a lot of questions Raia?” the woman retorted but held her hand up defensively as she continued. “It’s one of the things I’ve come to like about being with you. Your earnest curiosity is refreshing. You know me, but we’ve never met in this manner.” The woman’s appearance shifted to one more reminiscent of how Raia might one day appear as an adult. “If you wish a name, the closest I have to offer is Slēpties Duncis and I’ve been a part of your journey since you joined the Sith on Spite Station.”

The teenager’s eyes went wide and she stepped closer to the neatly lined rows of corn, “No. Not again,” she swore before turning to run between the rows. Her path was easy to find since the massive tuk’ata gave a resigned snort and chased after her leaving a much wider path to follow.

 

Raia ran until she emerged back onto the crystal walkway at a juncture and turned this way and that, at a complete loss of where to go from there.

 

“Now which way do I go, Vex?” she asked, stopping to stroke the side of his massive head.

 

“That way is a very nice way,” a low, cultured male voice intoned.

 

Raia turned to look for the source of the voice but only saw a tall figure on a pedestal dressed in black and crimson who appeared to be stuffed with various types of grasses, almost like a larger version of a doll she’d had as a small girl. His right arm was extended indicating one of the paths available. Dolls don’t speak, she thought, trying not to think of how it also reminded her of Mitral’s attempt to burn her alive. Shaking away the thoughts in confusion, she continued to look for the source of the voice.

 

“It’s pleasant down that way, too,” the voice offered again.

 

She turned around. The stuffed man was now pointing to the left path with his other arm.

 

“Did you-,” she started as the man interjected.

 

“Of course, people do go both ways!” he exclaimed, crossing his arms as he spoke, each now pointing in opposite directions than they’d been before.

 

The girl gasped in surprise and Vex put himself squarely between Raia and the grass-stuffed man. It only took a moment for Raia to regain herself and ask, “Do you know which will lead me home? I don’t know where I am so it’s hard to know the right way back to my father. What is this place?”

 

“That is the trouble, I can’t make up my mind,” he remarked, cocking his head to the side as he explained further. “This is the Dejarik Board. Those that come here have a choice to make, a path to choose.”

 

Raia looked up at the broad-woven fabric that seemed to make up his face, her befuddlement apparent. Why couldn’t people ever be direct in these odd dreams or visions?

 

“Perhaps,” he began, “We could help each other. You seem determined to find your father and I can hardly act on any decision I come to stuck on my perch. If you get me down, I’ll help you get home.”

 

The girl cast a glance toward Vex’aedr who looked back at her as though to say It’s you’re call, pup.

 

Carefully she picked her way through the high corn stalks to the base of the pole this strange person was affixed to and examined it for a way to get him down. A gentle wind picked up, seeming to whisper to her.

 

Following the impulse, she reached out toward the wooden pole. She felt a warmth spreading across her palm as the wood was rendered to ash in a few seconds, as though had slowly burned from the inside out. Somehow, she’d be able to control it well enough that it had never caught flame, otherwise the stuffed man would have been consumed as well.

 

She stepped back as he fell, startled by her own actions and the result when the stuffed man fell to the ground.

“Remarkable!” He stood up and stretched, which was an odd thing for a straw man to do. “Being tied to that pillar for that long will give you such a crick in your neck.” He tilted his head from one side then the other and let out a yelp as something snapped.

“If it is the path to freedom from the board that you seek,” he began, dusting the ash from his clothes, “I will show you the path. You must free your mind to focus on your heart’s desire, on what you truly seek. Only then with the route become clear to you.”

“I just have to focus on getting home to my father, and I’ll be able to get back to him?” The strange man nodded, as he stroked his yarn-like beard on his burlap face.

 

Trusting that Vex would keep watch over her, Raia knelt among the corn and closed her eyes and calmed her mind like she’d learned with Emily and focused on locating Raynuk the way he’d taught her when she shared visions with him. Only I can’t touch him this time, she thought sadly. Still, she had to try. She had to do more than try; she had to get back.

 

As though he could feel her faltering, the stuffed man offered up some advice, “You must remember what your father and those that were with him taught you. You must draw on those feelings that are strongest - anger, hatred, fear, or desire. These will be the foundations on which you learn to draw your power from. In time, you will learn to draw your power without needing to harness these feelings but I digress. Focus on what you seek most, on where you need to be. See it within your mind and it will be revealed to you.”

 

Wordlessly, she nodded and refocused on leveraging her determination to get home. Forming a picture of him in her mind, she focused on simply getting back to his side, still unsure why the desire was so strong. It seemed to be enough, though as the rest of the board fell away, leaving her hovering in an expanse of nothingness save for a pinprick of light. There was something familiar about the presence and she focused on its siren call.

 

Tetis, her soul called out to the void as the presence began to take shape. She could sense it was him and excitement coursed through her as she reached for him, only be stopped by some invisible barrier.

 

Ah, ah, ah, Little One, Ar-Pharazon’s voice echoed cruelly across the expanse. I told you - you’re mine, the price Raynuk paid for banishing me. Now wave bye-bye to Daddy because it’s the last time you’ll ever see him!

 

Raia barely had time to cry out for her father before she felt herself being flung down to the board.

[Raia Montar]

Raia sat up, gasping as though the wind had been knocked from her lungs. Pain seared the palm of her right hand and she cried out, clutching it to her closely. After a few moments, it subsided and she held the hand out for examination only to close it again, quickly, in disgust and anger.

 

“Remarkable, that is an unexpected turn of events. I had not expected there to be a backlash like that.” He looked at her hand before she closed it, then reached out and opened her fingers so he could make sure what he thought he had seen was correct. In the center of her palm was a seared 666 symbol.

 

“You were wrong!” she spat at the Stuffed Man as she pulled her hand back, tears welling up faster than she could control them. “He’s done something to bind me here and I can’t get home!”

 

“What did you see?”

 

“My father.” Before she could elaborate further, Raia looked past the Stuffed Man and glared at the purple-robed figure she saw approaching. “What do you want?” she snapped.

 

“You saw more than just your father didn’t you?” A speculative look crossed his face as he looked at her. He had a suspicion of what was going on, her response might confirm the state of things and give him more information. He looked at the figure that was approaching with mild hostility visible in his look.

 

“To help you,” the purple-robed witch answered. “I’d have thought that obvious or I would have left you to Ar-Pharazon’s mercy back in Youngling land. Believe it or not, neither of us were given a choice in our bonding, but I am glad it was you.”

 

Raia merely looked at the woman and crossed her arms. “Why?”

 

“There’s a great power within you that you don’t understand,” the woman began. “I’ve been helping you get acquainted with it. It’s why we were able to hold back Ar-Pharazon and why you were able to change the angle of the knife to save the life of the man you call ‘father.’”

“He is my father,” Raia shot back. “He’s the only family I have left. All I know is that I have to get back to him, or at least away from here. I won’t be used against him again!” The tears of anger were back and her hands clenched at her sides as the wind began to pick up. “I don’t know why I’m here. All I know is I want to go home!”

 

“Home?” she said wryly. “You want to go home, to the one who sent you here? Home to a man who would sooner kill you than fight the thing trying to overcome you? You’re just like every other woman he hoodwinked and spellbound.” Her voice grew hard and unforgiving. “You learned nothing.”

Raia stepped back as though stung. “He’s not like that...what was he supposed to do? Risk that Ar-Pharazon would have another shot at him? That I would have to live knowing that I had killed him? Raynuk cares about me. He killed me because he cared. He wouldn’t have been there - beyond the barrier - waiting for me otherwise.”

“Keep telling yourself that, kid,” she said, her green eyes flashing. “It worked for Jaina for far too long. When you love someone, you put yourself in danger, over and over again, to make sure they’re safe. You don’t sacrifice them the moment you come under fire. He doesn’t understand love. He can’t understand love.”

“You’re wrong,” the girl’s voice quavered. “If he can’t love, then why did he adopt me? Why show compassion to someone who can be used against him? He had nothing to gain by adopting me.” What this woman was saying couldn’t be true. “I’m sure he has a plan.” He had to have a plan… “There has to be a way back to him that Ar-Pharazon doesn’t know about.”

 

The Stuffed Man looked thoughtful for a moment, before interjecting into the argument, “If the goal is to keep her safe, then no better safety could she find than the Emerald City. It may also provide a way home for her if she should choose it rather than remaining here.”

The Dagger narrowed her eyes at the Stuffed Man, “You just heard that the father she’s so adamant about getting back to killed her and you’re perfectly willing to deliver her back into his hands?”

 

The Stuffed man tilted his head for a moment, a look of skepticism and disdain on his face as he glared back at her. “As opposed to the alternative? Clearly, her father was forced to take measures as he did to prevent Ar-Pharazon from using her to breach his way free of the board. But you would rather keep her here where Ar-Pharazon’s minions can hunt her down and bring her to him so that he can use his dark powers on her. At least I am providing her with an option.”

 

“As long as she knows who she’s running to,” The Dagger remarked coolly.

 

“Enough!” Raia cried, stepping past Vex’aedr and between The Dagger and the Stuffed Man. “It’s my business who I trust and my faith is in Raynuk and the fact he loves me. If there’s a way out of here that doesn’t involve me facing down an obsessive-compulsive Sith Master, then let’s do that. How do we get there?”

 

The Dagger hadn’t stopped sneering at the Stuffed Man, but at least answered, “Why follow the Kyber Crystal Road, of course.”

[Raia Montar]

Raia and the Dagger argued most of their way through the Dark Forest over the girl’s adamant determination to return to her “murderer” as the Dagger had repeatedly referred to Raynuk. The argument had stalled out when Raia had ultimately made the case that it was better for her to make it back than to be stuck here and eventually wind up under the control of Ar-Pharazon.

 

“Just be smart about things when you get back, okay?” The Dagger intoned as they came up on the edge of the Dark Forest overlooking a field of szechual that Raia instantly recognized from one of the books on botanicals from Furion’s library. She could see the Emerald City glittering in the distance beyond.

“I’m not asking you to understand,” Raia nodded, “I’m asking you to stand by me and my choice. I can choose my own path when I get back. That’s one thing that Raynuk has consistently given me and why I want to get back to him now. You don’t have to agree. It’s not your life, it’s mine.”

“She’s right, you know,” the Stuffed Man agreed, skipping ahead of them along the path. “If you try to control her, you’re no better than Ar-Pharazon.”

“I promised I would help get you safely to the Emerald City and I will,” the Dagger remarked. “You two don’t have to keep beating a dead - Oh stang.”

“What is it?” Raia asked cresting the hill with the others. Neither had to answer for her as she instantly recognized the group of brown-robed figures from her visions and from seeing their corpses littering the floor of Raynuk’s tomb first-hand.

 

The Cult of Morthos stood between her and safety and standing in their center was the unmistakable form of Lord Ar-Pharazon. In his hand he carried his light scythe and the smug grin that crossed his face only enhanced his resemblance to another figure Raia had seen in Furion’s collection of books and artifacts - the Grim Reaper, Death himself.

“We’ll hold them off, you make a run for the gate,” the Dagger promised as she drew her violet-bladed lightsaber. “Now, go!”

 

Vex’aedr knelt down to allow Raia to climb onto his back and was off, trampling the szechual as he stuck to the truest path to the gate. The Dagger and Stuffed Man ran alongside them ready to close with the enemy.

 

Raia was a bit concerned with how the Stuffed Man would be able to stand against Ar-Pharazon and so many, but she needn’t have worried as he was soon joined by legions of dappled grey and brown field mice and an unkindness of ravens that erupted from the trees behind them and swooped down on the cultists below.

 

The cultists stood unmoving, all eyes cast towards the Reaper in their midst, waiting for the monster made man to strike the signal. The scythe was raised, pointing directly at Raia as the Reaper’s mouth twisted even to become even more sinister.

“Going somewhere meitas?” The demon said, twisting the name her father had given her into nothing less than an icy dagger. “But we’re going to have so much… fun. I couldn’t possibly let you leave just yet. But I’m afraid your friends are not invited.”

 

The cult surged forward, a seemingly endless throng of brown hooded robes that rushed towards Raia, the Strawman and the Dagger. Hidden bladed weapons, most stained and having lost their shine long ago, lashed out at the ravens and field mice as the groups met in battle.

 

“I said GO!” the Dagger yelled at Raia, spinning around with more grace than Raia thought possible as the cultists swarmed her, striking several down before they had a chance to bring their weapons to bear.

 

The Stuffed Man seemed oddly out of place himself, standing in the same spot he was before and just looking around, seemingly making no effort to fight. But every so often he would simply duck down, or tilt sideways as though he was suddenly off balance, or step forward casually, causing the cultists who were aiming for him to simply miss entirely before a raven or mouse attacked the cultist.

 

But the Reaper stood still, never moving, never taking his demonic eyes off Raia, content to simply stand between her and the Emerald City in the distance, waiting. Knowing that Raia would have to go through him, would have to face him down directly if she had any chance of returning to her father.

 

Vex snarled before slamming his head sideways into a cultist that had come for Raia, glancing back at Raia just long enough to emphasise the point that they should go, before the tuk’ata took off running like a bullet, taking them both on a direct path to the Reaper.

 

“The little Warrior Princess wants to fight, how pathetic!” the Reaper spoke, nearly laughing at the thought, and raised his free hand.

 

When Raia, holding on for dear life to Vex, covered roughly a third of the distance, the Reaper simply snapped his fingers, the sound seeming to echo far more widely than it should. There was no reason why, but Raia knew she had to look behind her to her companions in that moment. And she was greeted only by the horrible sight of the Stuffed man suddenly being utterly overwhelmed by cultists, his seemingly happenstance avoidance of their attacks coming to an end as the cultists literally began ripping him apart, all the while he looked at Raia, not with pain, but confusion.

 

“Woops… I guess he was simply full of hot air after all…” The Reaper taunted.

 

Raia… I know you’re still in there...

 

It was Raynuk’s voice; just an echo, one of the last things she had heard before her death, but it spurred her to not give up. I am Tetis and I’m fighting my way back to you.

 

She would not stop fighting; she could not stop fighting. Pushing with all her might, she willed Vex to run faster, to run harder. When Raia and Vex closed to more than halfway to the Reaper, he again raised his hand, and this time Raia turned before the echoing sound of his fingers snapping even came.

 

Raia forced herself to watch as the cultists swarmed the Dagger, the eerie phantom of Tirzah’s mother. Swinging and spinning her purple blades around unimaginably fast and precise, But then the snap came, and in that moment a cultist sunk its stained and pock-marked blade into her back, and the ballet of the Dagger froze in place, head cast upwards to the sky, blades cast wide. Then another, and another, and another cultist blade sunk into the Dagger’s form, each bringing with it a small change to the posture of the target. By the time the Dagger’s eyes found Raia, her form was beset by no less than thirty small cultist blades. And the Dagger just smiled at Raia, a sweet look on her face before she collapsed out of sight among the cultists.

 

“She won’t be bothering us anymore!” The Reaper taunted again.

 

As the Dagger fell, Raia truly began to feel vulnerable for the first time and she turned back to the Emerald City silently offering up prayers to whatever forces might be listening to help protect her that she might get back to her father. It was now obvious that Ar-Pharazon was still finding ways to have his fun with her.

I need you to understand. I’m sorry… Raynuk’s voice came again, stronger this time, and it seemed Vex was emboldened by the voice as well.

I understand. I understood then. I will make it back to you.

 

“SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!” The Reaper yelled into the nothingness, proving the disembodied voice of Raynuk was not simply in Raia’s mind. His evil eyes came back to Raia, the moment of annoyance wiped away by another sadistic smile.

 

“No more little friends to help you; nowhere left to run. I could have annihilated them from the start, you know that? But this way… Oh it’s so much more entertaining! To watch you try and claw your way out, to watch you make friends, and get close to them, just to see the look on your face when I tear them apart right in front of you, just like I did to Quietus by using you. Foolishly putting your faith in love, and hope, and faith in Raynuk. He can’t help you now... I’m going to get you my pretty, and your little dog too!”

 

“You’re wrong!” she cried as he was suddenly between her and the city.

 

The Reaper merely laughed, and Vex growled as the tuk’ata was running full bore, showing no signs of letting the demonic man stop them. The distance between them closed rapidly, and it looked as though Vex was going to attempt to run the Reaper over, trampling him outright. But the Reaper raised his hand again, and they all knew what was coming next.

 

But Vex didn’t flinch; instead lowering his head with a snarl and pushing just a bit harder into the charge. At the last possible second, it was the Reaper who seemed to flinch, taking a single step sideways to avoid being trampled.

 

But the Reaper was too smart for that and had thus far proved just how little control Raia had over any of this. The Reaper didn’t snap his fingers like he did with the Stuffed Man and the Dagger. No, something so important to Raia had to be dealt with in nothing short of special terms. As the Reaper stepped to the side, it was his other hand, the one that wielded the light scythe, that lashed out. The hideous weapon caught Vex’s front leg in its curve, using the tuk’atas momentum against it as the blade sliced clean through the leg. Instantly Vex began to fall, and the blade carved up into the beast’s midsection, opening it up like a holiday meal as the beloved pet and companion came crashing down without any hope of recovery.

 

The Reaper was quick to spin to face Raia and taunt her once more and her last ounce of hope was ripped from her. “Bad doggy, SIT! STAY! Look! You’ve gone and made a mess you stu--”

 

The Reaper found the words caught in his throat, and eyes widening in utter disbelief, for Raia was not tumbling along the ground, nor was she splayed out under the massive weight of her now dead pet. As though the Reaper had had no effect at all, Raia was flying, rocketing unabated towards the Emerald City.

And I love you…

 

Raynuk’s haunting voice came one last time before it was drowned out by the maddening, frenzied scream of the Reaper.

 

“NOO!”

 

The Emerald City began to glow the closer and closer Raia came, the light growing ever-more intense until it was completely blinding to her eyes.

[Keenava Dira]

• • What is death?
    Is it emptiness?
    Is it sleep everlasting?
    Is it...nothing?
    What is life, without death?
    And what is death without life?

 

• Regardless, in the end, time makes fools of us all…
  

 

 

• Wracking sobs...

 

From the timbre of her voice, Keenava could tell, the girl was young; maybe twelve or so. Something about her seemed familiar. But she was a blur; an amorphous shadowy blob of indecipherable size.

 

The only thing Keenava could make out was her cries. The rest of the world was a muffled cloud. Smells seemed far away as if they came from a great distance. She couldn’t tell. Everything came like it was being pushed through a thick wad of cotton. What was an immutable silence, dark as boundless shadow and vast as space and time, was now filled with icy unmistakable sound.The shrill sound of the little girl’s cries shook the eerie silence of the world and made it something unbearably vulnerable. Keenava knew little girl cries. They possessed a clarity of emotion that no fully grown person could come close to.

 

Qato?

< why >

 

The girl’s face, or what looked to be her face, stared upward. Keenava shifted her gaze but saw only emptiness. The girl's fragile question broke upon the bastion of darkness and despair with little to show for it.

 

• Ohk eti kukoz ar ohk loo?
  < was it supposed to be good? >

 

Ohk eti kukoz ar ohk si'mori?

< was it supposed to be bad? >

The girl seemed to move back and forth, mumbling to herself. Keenava tried to draw closer to her, but every step seemed to drag her further away. Distance seemed immaterial. Light seemed immaterial. Everything was fuzzy except the sounds of the little girl. Her voice was crystal in a land of rock. And her cries tugged at Keenava, begging her to respond...

 

Do huhsi... sahak ktan. Do karau sei tirva

< I just… don’t know. I want my mommy. >

 

A lance shot through Keenava. A primal urge drove her fruitlessly toward the little girl; moving forever on a metaphysical turntable. It was useless and frustrating. Keenava fell to her knees, a moue of pain barely crossing her cold lips.

 

The girl’s cry stopped for a second. The blur - that composed what Keenava surmised was the little girl’s physical form - cocked its head to the side, listening to the muffled silence that surrounded both of them.

 

Keenava’s face was a painting of confusion.

 

Ki'uk? … Ohk ei uru circoo?

< Hello? Is anyone there? >

 

Keenava cocked her head, mirroring the blur’s movements. Then she waited and nodded her head silently as if she thought the blur could see her. She hadn’t spoken in her native tongue for quite some time, but she still remembered the motions.

 

Ka eoh uru, Do ohk circaa.

< Yes little one, I’m here. >

 

Jinqa ohk dan? Dan koo... vorcuban?

< Who are you? You sound… warbly? >

 

Keenava was about to respond but bit her tongue. Why was she doing this? This girl was weak. Why didn’t she try to find a way out? And, how was she supposed to respond? “Hello, my name is Keenava and I’m a Sith Lord, pleased to meet you?” No. Whoever this was, she didn’t need to know.

 

Ohk dan sei nirsiban muchi?

< Are you my imaginary friend? >

 

Keenava grinned ruefully, thankful for the child’s imagination even in a moment as painful as this.

 

Ka, Do ohk. Narsu, bee san, qa ohk ji sisalei'a?

< Yes, I am. Please, tell me, what is the matter? >

The blur seemed to stop for a moment, bending toward the ground, choking. It seemed to stiffen, in spite of its previous impassioned display. Soft sounds of sobbing, followed by heaves and coughs filled the silence before the little girl thought to respond.

 

Do... Do sahak ktan. Uru, korjin tlaran san ar arosv yinme vil lik san. Cei korjin jet san ar a kas vil onelan ar cuev san. Korjin rey ho san vil rekak ho san bo ceu si'inerki debis. Korjin dos san goh vil cei tuev ea... jirut circoo. Do karsan... si'klic. Do karsan... Do karsan... Do sahak ktan qaon ar karsan.

< I... I don't know. First, they took me to another room and beat me. Then they bound me to a chair and started to touch me. They laughed at me and smiled at me with those hateful faces. They called me names and then shoved things... down there. I feel... wrong. I feel... I feel... I don't know how to feel. >

 

The blur squirmed uncomfortably and sobbed intermittently between breaths. Her head was bowed and slowly the smell of desperation wormed into Keenava’s waiting consciousness. Livid ice pooled upon the surface of her conscious brain. She had a myriad of warring emotions in the span of… seconds? Time didn’t seem to pass even though it clearly was. Keenava almost threw herself through the blurry vision. Her body yearned to embrace the poor girl. The fire in her heart flamed to be with her in her need. But Keenava’s care was impotent. She could be there no more than anyone else could…

 

Do ktan qaon dan karsan. Do fic karsan eti cla...

< I know how you feel. I've felt it too… >

 

Dan ohk vorcuban vil penisla. Dan sahak ktan qaon ar karsan. Kay dan laboo ar cao kue. Dan laboo karawn. Dan toyid go jid korjin tlaran cea or dan. Dan ohk ji ceinireae ar fiyet onhso bo circaa vil gue dan toyid nie eti. < You're confused and scared. You don't know how to feel. But you need to hold on. You need strength. You can't let them take that from you. You are the way to get out of here and only you can do it. >

 

The girl rallied briefly but sunk toward the far side of Keenava’s field of view.

 

Do... Do sahak ktan qaon. Do ohk cei penisla. Qa ko korjin elan tohsi tilsa sei zen'ka? Qa ko Do ohk go kuces? Qa ko Do anasan eti? Qa cahsinark iniban ar san?

< I... I don't know how. I'm so scared. What if they go after my family? What if I'm not enough? What if I like it? What will happen to me? >

 

Cahsinark dan kumsara bo san?

< Will you stay with me? >

 

Keenava’s mind raved. What should she say? What could she say? She was starting to feel like a motivational poster. She was starting to get mad at herself. But she couldn't’ do anything. Her rage was like an impotent fire, burning in a glass tube. It had just enough oxygen to smolder, but it couldn’t reach beyond.

 

Do cahsinark... Do cahsinark nie qa Do toyid. Kay dan toyid go omr ktan qa dao. Filkejan sah vil tao ar tuev kue. dan ohk t'an loo ir korjin. dan ohk t'an loo ir cea y. < I will... I will do what I can. But you can't possibly know what comes. Harden yourself and try to push on. You're better than them. You're better than this. >

 

The girl sniffled in the dying sounds of Keenava’s vision just as muffled footsteps echoed off of the sound-bubble they shared. A scruffy voice pierced the veil for two seconds before Keenava was roughly pushed back into the dark void and left in darkness once again.

 

“Hello lovely, I know a few boys who’d love to getta hold of you! … “

 

• • • Noooooooo….

 

The scream was swallowed by the emptiness. Keenava was alone again.

[Keenava Dira]

The void returned.

It was thick and black. Her arms and legs were wreathed in a cold shell, bound to the limits of whatever her ‘puppet master’ deemed appropriate. It wasn’t ideal, but Keenava could hardly argue. She’d protested for the first few moments of her internment, but her cries continued listlessly onward. They hit neither wall, nor ear, and would not return no matter how much the Twi’lek willed.

 

But she didn’t worry for long. The black obfuscation that clouded her wakeful eyes parted to reveal cold gray. Shafts of light poked through a corroded ceiling, but the light was deceiving. Neons hung nearby and emitted enough light to pose as a crude sun. So it was extremely difficult to tell night from day. But, the scene focused on a shrouded figure that scurried along, grasping at the shadows. A smell hit the formless twi’lek and, oddly enough, made its way to Keenava’s disembodied receptor. It was potent, but, almost indecipherable. It contained trace amounts of sweat and blood. But there was another element that Keenava couldn’t see. And, before she could focus on the sensation, the moment passed by and the smell danced away. The shroud skirted amidst the shadows and Keenava, slave to the performance, continued to watch.

 

What felt like minutes passed; then hours. Keenava began to realize that she couldn’t hear anything. Where before, sitting beside the little girl, Keenava could hear the keening wails that echoed off the stone. Now, it was as if her ears were stuffed with wads of bound cotton. Everything was muffled. Everything seemed to come to her through the length of a small tube that was sealed at one end.

 

As the time wore on, the shrouded figure moved ever onward. It stopped here and there to look at blank signs. It stopped to listlessly shake and wither at directionless antagonism. With the dying glimpse of a neon figure, Keenava saw the shroud move into a building and vanish, leaving nothing but the void in its wake…

[Keenava Dira]

Bound in a formless cloud she waited for the next reality to come and the next episodic foretelling to shift into the light of her waiting eyes. But nothing came. At least, nothing she could see.

 

The stare was a sensation she’d not felt in some time. She could neither see nor envision the eyes. But the gaze was unmistakable. The derision, the disappointment, the anger, the disapproval, and the rejection. It was bound within an indisputable feeling that crawled from the smallest hairs of her neck to the tips of each toe.

 

Fu-

 

She tried to speak, but her mouth was lead. Her tongue was robbed of its agility and replaced with a piece of rubber flotsam. Yet, her eyes were open to the cold dark void. Her ears were receptive to the tiniest sensation. The scratching of a nail to paper was like thunder against the fragile structure of her mind. A slight moue of pain escaped silently from her metaphysical lips as the realization of her predicament set in.

 

The dark tendrils of doubt swept through the velvety void like a woolen matt brushing across a linoleum surface. Voices, without a body, echoed, clinging to each doubt like overcharged lint.

 

 

No…

 

I have to fight this.

 

I’ve come so far!

 

Thoughts struggled to the surface like rodents, desperate for salvation. But a cool voice smothered their hopeless plight.

 

Have you?

[Keenava Dira]

• • 

 

At the end of it all, his eyes were electric.

 

Balls of wild crimson power stared at her from a vacuous husk. But, instead of fear, recognition pulled at the corners of Keenava’s gaze.

 

“But… I killed you.”

 

A wretched, detached, smile crawled across the husk’s form ending with an improbable contortion. Its expression revealed nothing. Under shriveled, dry, dead lips, his empty stare betrayed nothing but cold emptiness.

 

Are you so sure?

 

Keenava tried to lash out but found that her limbs were held in place by an unseen force.

Why?

 

The husk contorted yet again with a painful snapping sound and then crept closer to where Keenava stood, frozen in place. The smell of death and decay was strong here. The sound of breathing was uncomfortably absent and although it didn’t touch her, the Twi’lek was ‘aware’ of the shadow’s hollow aura as it bore down on her.

 

Because it is what I was meant to do. I know nothing else.

 

Keenava was about to comment, but her words broke like so much hot air and escaped her mind.

 

No. None of that. It is my turn to talk.

 

An arc of cold lightning powered through every neuron in Keenava’s body. Like thousands of tiny needles stabbing into her at every point, her breath caught and her presence in this demesne - mental, metaphysical or whatever it was - flickered.

 

Hurts don’t it. Now. I have a question… I have many, actually. But this one will do for now: why are you running?

 

Keenava’s face creased, tiny lines broke on the skin of her forehead. She couldn’t move at all. Her body was held in an iron-like vice and every thought to speak was met with blinding agony.

 

Huh. Don’t have an answer, do you?

 

The answer is: you’re scared of what you are. You killed me because you’re scared of what I meant to you. You kept pining for the wolf because he led you into a path of darkness. It was easy to blame his influence and chase after him like some lapdog, forgetting all the way that you were going deeper and deeper into a world of depravity. But when he left you, cold and alone, you were forced to look at yourself. You were forced to really look at what you became. And you beat yourself for it. You didn’t understand how I could do those things to you; how the entire galaxy could steal you away and oppress you. You couldn’t understand how filthy wretches treating you like nothing but flesh would change your perception of yourself. But instead of using their abuse to galvanize you into empowering yourself, you ran after a man and surrendered yourself to his will… like a puppet. Then, instead of moving on when he left you, you go after another… The spider. You laugh and pretend like nothing is wrong, but deep down you are running from something. You act kind when you have no business to be kind. It makes no logical sense.

 

The shadow drifted from one side of her gaze to the other, continuing where he left off like nothing had changed.

The shadow forces that ‘inhabited’ your body, resembling pieces of your psyche, are nothing more than your own shadow trying to catch up with you. You’ve been running from your own darkness the moment you realized you enjoyed what your captors did to you and tried to block it out. Kana, sweet and sultry, was your demented pleasure derived from your mistreatment; Kara, the spirit of your rage and the ecstasy you feel every time you lash out with fire and ferocity; and Kava, the thrill you feel whenever you’re on the hunt. These forces terrify you into paralyzation. You can’t stand being the bad guy even though the thought has haunted you your entire life. The spider can see it. The wolf saw it. Every predator that has ever come to you in the night has seen it. But you know what they also saw?

 

The shadow reached deep into Keenava’s metaphysical form and another wave of sensation wracked her brain. Nausea and bitterness welled up to the tip of her tongue. But she couldn’t vomit. Her stomach seemed oddly detached. The shadow’s hand came away with something that looked like a crystal of pure fire. It writhed and swam within the shadow’s grasp like a small voracious animal trying to claw its way past the confines of the husk’s indomitable grasp. They saw your potential. They saw your will and they saw your power. Something that you yourself have been unable to grasp.

It is wasted on you.

 

Such fire could move mountains with enough determination. But you squander it. You could fully embrace who you are and what you’ve become. But instead, you waste your gifts resigned to be merely subservient. Admiration and respect have their place… With others. But licking someone's boots will only get you stepped on.

The shadow opened its grasp on her ‘fire,’ for lack of a better word, and it shot back into her body with a sharp jolt of pain. But when it returned, Keenava was more aware of its presence. It felt like when someone forgets to breathe and they have to consciously think about their lungs and how they work. She let the flame fill her body and remembered moments of her past where a warmth, a hunger, a desire, burned bright in the core of her being. In moments of desperation, the fire kept her warm, kept her will alive and kept her fighting against those that would oppress her.

 

The shadow’s grin was wicked as it descended upon her.

 

And now that I’ve got you, you aren’t going anywhere. I almost had you in that cavern and I almost killed you in that cave after I took possession of that Sith Beast. Now, after chasing after you all these years, I can finally put an end to your pandering nonsense. I can exhaust your piteous attempts at living and squash you like the bug you are.

 

Expecting sorrow, or resignation, the shadow was surprised to find that Keenava was smiling. It was an odd sort of smile; the same smile a demented person would have as they were committed. But it was a smile.

 

The shadow frothed with anger and seethed as it stalked her. I tell you about your imminent demise and you smile!? What kind of lunacy is this?

 

Keenava laughed.

 

And just as she laughed, the shadow’s bonds broke away, letting the Twi’lek loose. She flexed her hands and then tested the balls of her feet. The shadow continued to lose control, but when Keenava’s gaze flicked up, her eyes gleamed dangerously.

 

“The poison I was working on wasn’t finished. I hadn’t brewed nearly enough to kill anyone. It was a test batch designed to knock out a small animal. You think I’m dying?”

 

Keenava’s dismissal combined with the smug look on her face sent the shadow reeling with unbridled fury. It lashed out at Keenava. But she had the reins this time.

 

No. Now that I know what you are and what you’ve been doing. You’re not going anywhere.

 

Instead of pushing the shadow out or allowing it to dissipate, Keenava walked into it and allowed the force to suffuse her body. Each demented piece of her picture started to roll into itself until Keenava was back on Korriban, gasping the moldy death of the world once again.

 

"Back to work."