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Ary the Grey

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As a woman on Ziost raised her hand to the sky, a pulse rippled out through the Force. To the living energy field that bound the universe together, physical limitations were meaningless. Distance, speed, matter, nothing held back the burst of power that raced along those connections between all living things.

 

It was a clarion call, an echo of endless hate and savage triumph.

 

To the few mundane perceptive enough to notice, the ripple would feel like a brief moment of unease, the sense of something moving just out of the corner of their eye.

 

To the Force-sensitive able to observe that ephemeral energy, but unattuned to the idiosyncrasies of the Dark Side, it would seem like a wordless cry, faint but fierce.

 

But to those who allowed the Dark Side to flow through them, the call had meaning. Its message was not in words but in concepts and impressions, universal in understanding.

 

Darkness gathers

 

Ziost stands

 

A challenger waits

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