KE Selika Roh vs. DJM Troutrooper

Krath Epis Selika Roh

Equite 3, Equite tier, Clan Plagueis
Female Human, Krath, Seeker
vs.

Dark Jedi Master Troutrooper

Elder 2, Elder tier, Clan Arcona
Male Mon Calamari, Krath, Seeker
Comment

Greetings guys,

Thanks for a fun to read battle! I enjoyed it quite a bit. You guys have very complimentary styles (and characters). This came down to a couple things, but I first wanted to say, both of you wrote great stories. I liked Trout's twist with Manchurian Candidate a ton, but I also liked the visceral imagery of the sand-based Force storm. You both did great!

Syntax - 5-4, Selika. The primary issue here was internal dialogue format seemingly changing, but also a minor proofreading issue on Trouty's part. Story - 5-5, Tie. Don't make me pick just one! :( In all seriousness, great job. I think overall Selika did a bit better job advancing a bit of a plot of what was happening in the bone field itself, but you both wrote well. Had this come down to story, it is likely Selika would have gotten the slight-nod. Realism: 4-4, Tie. Great job overall with sheets, but minor issues. First, strictly speaking according to TT's sheet, he is selfish above all else, and his sheet doesn't justify him wading into a sand storm. However, we are talking his wife, so I didn't treat this as a large detractor (and it is probably pretty ticky tack of me to dock a point, sorry!). For Trouty, I was actually on the fence RE: the strength of your Mind Trick, but I decided given Selika's weakened state, and our lack of knowledge of success, it was ok. The bigger issue is that Deflection at +2 still only deflects blaster bolts in random directions - as written, it implies intention on Trout's part, but it would be more dumb luck to have it happen. Continuity: 5-5, Tie. No issues.

Hall Fading Light
Messages 4 out of 4
Time Limit 3 Days
Battle Style Alternative Ending
Battle Status Judged
Combatants KE Selika Roh, DJM Troutrooper
Winner KE Selika Roh
Force Setting Standard
Weapon Setting Standard
KE Selika Roh's Character Snapshot Snapshot
DJM Troutrooper's Character Snapshot Snapshot
Venue Begeren - Mass Grave
Last Post 25 July, 2014 5:15 AM UTC
Assigned Judge Telaris "Mav" Cantor
Syntax - 15%
Master Selika Roh di Plagia Troutrooper
Score: 5 Score: 4
Rationale: Did not notice anything distracting Rationale: Couple minor issues, e.g. Arconanl, plus it was hard to follow what exactly was going on with the internal dialogue in your first post - you start with bolded text for Trouty vs italics for Selika, but shift to italics for both characters. I think it may have been for emphasis at first, but it was a bit confusing to me .
Story - 40%
Master Selika Roh di Plagia Troutrooper
Score: 5 Score: 5
Rationale: I enjoyed the progression of combat and the use of the storm generated by the crystals. Selika's death, and the illusions that accompanied it, was well done. Creative bringing in lore of Trout's wife. Rationale: Entertaining conversation and interesting twist at the end. Really enjoyed the banter, but
Realism - 25%
Master Selika Roh di Plagia Troutrooper
Score: 4 Score: 4
Rationale: Overall a good use of sheets, but, strictly speaking, Trout's sheet says he is very selfish, so not sure his wife would really motivate him to wade into the storm. Rationale: Minor FP related issue - Deflection at +2 is really only useful for randomly deflecting bolts, albeit quite a few of them. A user wouldn't be able to skillfully deflect the bolts. Otherwise, a great job!
Continuity - 20%
Master Selika Roh di Plagia Troutrooper
Score: 5 Score: 5
Rationale: No issue Rationale: No issue
Master Selika Roh di Plagia's Score: 4.75 Troutrooper's Score: 4.6
Posts

Begeren. Once a prosperous Sith world, it has been the site of numerous battles throughout the millennia. Grand halls and monuments were torn down and re-purposed by looting Republic forces thousands of years ago, before they were driven from the planet. Isolated settlements still dot the planet's surface, but the inhospitable, craggy, and desert-like terrain, along with the beasts common to many desert and Sith worlds, have kept most humanoids from colonizing. Occasional skirmishes have left debris scattered throughout the desert, and battles were fought here as recently as the Galactic Civil War.

The One Sith’s hold on Begeren is all but broken, though a few small pockets of resistance remain. The Clans and Houses of the Brotherhood now swarm the planet to defeat them, but attention has returned to plunder. Roaming bands of Jedi, adherents to light and dark alike, claim—or destroy—priceless artifacts at every turn. One of the few remaining untouched areas on the entire planet is the Valley of Monuments, so named for its glorious architecture. The valley is a patchwork collection of sand dunes and massive canyons, inhospitable even in the best of times. Despite this, the One Sith maintain control over the area. Exactly how—or why—this place has not yet been claimed by the Brotherhood, you do not know, and nor do your superiors, but you know it is ripe for the picking. Perhaps one reason is that access is limited—the One Sith maintain control over the valley’s entrances, save for a small handful of paths that tread directly through canyons used long ago as ancient burial grounds. Intelligence suggests these entrances are virtually undefended. Your plan, at the moment, is to find your way into the Valley of Monuments through one such canyon, and it is there you now find yourself.

Somehow, despite the windswept sand dunes mere meters away, the canyon before you remains virtually free of sand. Macabre hills fill this canyon, thousands of exposed skeletons laying atop one another, the sand dunes of most of the planet replaced by dunes of stark white bones. The dark side hangs thick in the air over this massive valley, flanked by four incredibly large crystals placed at each cardinal direction. This is one of a handful of ancient mass graves, the final resting place of literally thousands of slaves forced to give their lives millennia ago to create the massive monuments of Begeren. Far in the distance, massive Sith monuments rise before an impressive ancient palace, but your attention remains here, now, where the bones shift beneath your every step, crunching noisily. Ancient clubs, whips, and other weapons occasionally break through the bony landscape, testament to the vicious past of this place. To those that can even sense the most rudimentary of emotions through the Force, an even more sinister feeling permeates the air here: not only death, but suffering, anger, and hate.

The sun slowly creeps towards the mountains far beyond this impressive valley, casting long rays of light that reflect off many of the white bones littering the canyon. The heat here is oppressive, but the sun will depart soon, leaving you in cool darkness. You notice that the large crystal to the north, situated in the shadow of a large canyon wall, begins to shimmer a faint blue, causing the bones beneath it to take on a ghostly glow. You think you hear rustling of bones in the distance, and almost think you notice something movement, though it could just have been the wind. Your step hastens as you move quickly through the canyon, hoping to escape this place before sunset takes it, and reach areas with more valuable items to claim or destroy. But before you can make much progress, you begin to hear the telltale signs of another living being—the sound of footsteps crunching bones—and they are coming from just over one of the boney dunes that litter the area.

Scorched red, sweat-bathed, and weary, the Mon Cal slumped to rest against a small pile of bones. Ugh, he fanned himself while reflecting on his recent and regrettable decisions, next time, I'm packing several gallons of good ol' saltwater for a midday mission. Crunching bones interrupted his analysis. Troutrooper looked up and waved. “Hell—AGH!”

You are weak. Unworthy of those Elder robes. I will soon add your bones to—

OUT.

Brow furrowed, eyes blinking rapidly, flipper rubbing his head, the Dark Jedi Master was not pleased. “How rude. Probing my mind before formal introductions? Rude and crass.” Troutrooper shook his bulbous head. "Tis the problem with the Brotherhood: respect, or, more to the point, the lack thereof. An Equite sees an Elder resting for a moment. Time to attack!"

"No Equite is foolish enough to attack a standing Elder,” his assailant noted. “You sat down, so I figured I'd play the advantage." Standing over the sitting fish, Selika struck a severe stance, a strutting silhouette in front of the setting star.

The Dark Jedi Master nodded at the posing Plagueian, still rubbing his bulbous head. "True, yet why attack? Why launch an assault against someone whose motivations are unknown to you? Is your decision logic so simple as 'If person is not from my unit, they die'?"

"You're quite unique, Master Fish,” Selika smoothed her hair idly. “The only Mon Cal Dark Jedi. You're also an Arconan, and thus, you are my enemy. A better question is, if you know I'm from Plagueis, why are you not pressing your inherent Elder advantages and attacking me?"

"Such a simplistic view will not aid you in this complex galaxy of ours. Ask your master Aabsdu to teach you—" His face scrunched, bulbous eyes locking on to Selika's searing violet orbs. I can overlook one intrusion. A second mental invasion, not so much.

Since you haven't invaded my mind yet, you must be unable to do so. Pathetic.

A flipper wave severed the connection.

Selika smiled wide. "I, a mere Equite, have stalemated a mighty, powerful Elder. Why should I show you any respect at all?" She peered down at the sitting Mon Cal, her nose twitching slightly. “In fact, I daresay there is no Arconan who is my equal.” The Epis pointedly flipped her hair and turned away.

Troutrooper gurgled a chuckle. "Whatever allows you to rest more peacefully at night." He stood and looked at Selika then towards the mountains. "I assume you're headed to the Valley of Monuments to plumb and plunder whatever treasures we find."

She hummed a yes, her focus also on the mountains beyond.

Troutrooper pointed. "Do you see that glowing crystal to the north? Why is it glowing? And how is it that this valley, which is surrounded by sand, has no sand in it?"

Selika shrugged. "Not my concern if I reach the Valley of Monuments soon."

He picked up a small bone. "Even the bones are odd, suspect: how are these in such good condition after being exposed to the elements for so many millennia? These mounds should have ground themselves flat, the weight of the top pulverizing the bones on the bottom. But no, the bones of these cadaverous dunes seem as strong as when they supported flesh."

The Epis kicked a medium-sized bone and grimaced.

"Stronger than expected. Sure, they crunch under our feet, but why haven't these hundred thousand skeletons crunched themselves into dust?"

Selika shook her head then strode towards the sunset. "You can ponder that as you bake to death, you tired, weak, lame fish. I’ll consider those questions after I’ve collected treasures beyond imagining.”

“Tis your life. I'm certain you can handle whatever comes your way.” He gave a curt wave. “Oh, hey look.” He pointed to the right.

“No,” she said, quickening her pace to escape being within earshot of the Mon Cal.

“The crystal to the east is glowing now. Must react to darkness. Curious. I wonder...”

Selika stopped and turned to see the now-luminous eastern crystal. A glance at the Arconan found him waddling south, away from the Valley of Monuments. Go on wondering and wandering, bait for brains. More glory for Plagueis.

“One last question for you before we part,” Troutrooper called from atop a small bone pile. He pointed west. “There's the third crystal dipping into shadow.”

Hurried footfalls replied for the Plagueian.

“Any idea or intel on what happens when all four crystals are illuminated?”

More footfalls.

The Dark Jedi Master shook his bulbous head. “Amazing. So many mysteries here in this vale, yet you run off to loot fragments and shattered Sith relic remnants, long stripped of any value. The air in this valley is saturated with the Brotherhood's preferred potent potable, and yet you run away from it. Me? I intend on learning what those crystals do.”

The footfalls slowed, quieted.

“Think about it. A Sith relic might be injected with the sinister side of the Force, but the bones of a hundred thousand slaves are inherently infused with the dark side. All that suffering, pain, agony, and torment from a lifetime under the whip coalesces in a slave's bones. Twenty, thirty, forty years of unceasing misery, every cell a petite package of pain. Where does all the negative energy go? Into the bones, into the person's structure. And from there? The ground? The air? Nowhere? Somewhere?”

The footfalls ceased.

Troutrooper nodded. “Good to see you're thinking your next action through, which is more than I can say about your previous actions. Perhaps a truce, or at least a bilateral ceasefire can be temporarily established while we discuss these self-lighting crystals further. Not that either of us are afraid of the dark or the dark side, but dark side spirits are mighty ferocious. A graveyard full of angry bones might birth a valley full of furious ghosts.”

The Plagueian turned and smiled.

The smile that tugged at the corner of Selika's mouth was the only hint of her true emotion that she had allowed to slip out from behind her facade since she had found herself facing the Mon Calamari master. Troutrooper was one of the greatest enigmas in the ranks of the Dark Brotherhood; his strange behavior and motivations were enough to single him out from all his compatriots. He was always the wild card, never approaching things from the way most anyone else would. Even before making her way to Plagueis, she had heard whispers of his oddities amongst the ranks of the One Sith. Given the depths she had discovered once amongst the Brotherhood, what she had heard previously hadn't even scratched the surface.

As such, upon meeting him, she had affected the manner one would expect from the stereotypical Equite: pompously overconfident. Mind probes she knew would fail, confident boasts of self-superiority, each were things that painted her a person that saw little threat from Troutrooper. She had gambled that the slightly off-kilter master of the dark side wouldn't react in a hostile way, and she had been right. She knew that the Arconan could fry her where she stood with Force-driven electricity if the mood struck him, and so she had endeavored to make sure that the mood did not strike him. Even his own "unpredictable" nature was in and of itself predictable.

"Fair enough," Selika responded with a sneer, "I'll stay with you and protect you from the scary monsters."

Troutrooper nodded, seemingly ignoring her insolent tone. Again, the response she had hoped for.

"You know, you're not the first One Sith convert I've met," Troutrooper said as Selika fell into step beside him, heading for the as yet unlit crystal. "The first one, Maxyn—“

“Vonnisia. I've heard of her," Selika interrupted.

"Vonnisia, yes. She told me that the One Sith 'cull' their deserters. It seems that between Maxyn, that Kz'set fellow, and yourself they're not very good at it."

Selika glowered, allowing the Mon Calamari's words continue to pour forth like flowing water.

"Or, maybe, the high rate of desertion comes from students that are incapable of slaying their masters. The whole process seems a bit wasteful, students or masters die. Or, students run away. It leaves me curious. Who was your master, Selika Roh?"

"Yobd Nan," Selika replied truthfully.

"Now that's just delicious! You do know that Plagueis has his pickled brain in one of their Shadow Droids? Do you still visit him, whiling away the hours talking about the nature of the Force?"

"He's not much for conversation these days," Selika said, allowing a hint of amusement to work it's way into her tone.

As the two were lost in their conversation, the sun had finally dipped below the mountains, leaving the valley to the darkening onset of twilight. The dead stillness of the valley was broken as a slight breeze tugged at Selika's hair, and she absentmindedly brushed the errant hair back away from her eyes. Her attention was momentarily diverted as she caught sight of the shadows engulf the last of the four crystals, leaving it with its own faint, bluish glow.

Then, suddenly, a blast of electricity caught Selika in the back, throwing her face down into the bones on which she had walked. The teeth of some long-dead and unidentifiable alien skull ripped a painful gash into her cheek, drawing a trail of blood down her face. Selika pushed herself over onto her back and pulled her lightsaber from her belt and triggered it on with a snap-hiss that echoed through the valley.

Her gamble had failed. Troutrooper's game hadn't been anything more complex than gaining her inattention and blasting her when her back was turned. Shaking her head to clear it, Selika realized that she had indeed been the arrogant, over confident Equite in the face of the Elder. He had, like any other dark sider, taken his opportunity to strike when it had been presented. Her bloodied face contorted by rage, Selika leapt to her feet.

"So this is how you fight, Master Fish?" Selika demanded. "And you call Plagueis those without honor!"

Troutrooper shook his head. "It was not I that attacked you. Look around you, do you not feel it?"

Selika was focused on Troutrooper alone, unwilling or unable to focus on the world around her. The sky had changed, taking on the shade of darkened pitch. The breeze had grown into something much more violent, as gusts ripped through the valley, causing the cloth sheathing both Krath to flap in the gale.

None of this penetrated Selika's growing, unreasoning anger. She lashed out with the Force as she tried to knock the Mon Calamari's head from his shoulders. The blow was deflected away to expend its energy on beside him, splintered shards spinning through the air as the bones that covered the ground were pulverized.

"Stop this, Selika. We have more pressing concerns," Troutrooper instructed her, for the first time his manner lacking the cavalierness that had characterized it previously.

She was overcome with the inescapable desire to throw herself at Troutrooper, to rend flesh from bone, to rip him apart with her bare hands. Abandoning her normal combat preference for maintaining her distance, she threw herself through the air towards him with her saber in one hand and the fingers of the other curled like claws.

Troutrooper side-stepped the attack, his purple blade shooting from its hilt in time to parry Selika's leaping lunge. Still weary from the hike, he stumbled slightly on some loose bones. The parry-given advantage was lost, but he was not injured by her or the loose footing.

The Epis rolled as she landed, then popped back up and into an aggressive stance. A gust of wind muted whatever her clumsy opponent’s curses. Planting her right foot behind her, she focused on her target and tensed her well-toned body in preparation for another strike. Another shock zapped Selika, this one from a direction opposite the fish. The Epis collapsed, hand clutching her right calf. Her scream—of rage, of being wrong in front of the enemy, of pain, of frustration—would not be muted by the elements.

“—believe me?”

“Taunt me more, fish, I have an infinite capacity to hate,” Selika snarled, her purple blade aimed at the Mon Cal's bulbous head. “Add more fuel to my burning hatred of you!”

“Hate me, love me, whatever. I don't care what you think of me. I want o—“ he interrupted himself to deflect a blue bolt. “Wait a second...The crystals!”

Selika did not wait. Troutrooper's moment of clarity was her window of opportunity. A burst of telekinetic energy knocked the saber from his flipper. A burst of amplified speed rocketed her towards him.

A telekinetic hammer-burst pulverized a bone pile. A gusting burst aerated the resultant dust. The Plagueian ran through the cloud, which blinded her for an instant.

Troutrooper did not wait. Selika's moment of blurriness was his window of recovery. He called his saber back to his flipper, igniting it in time to block Selika's teary-eyed, fury-filled attack. Their sabers locked, their grips flexing and tightening on their hilts.

Another blue tendril sparked where their sabers met. Both recoiled, one falling back into a defensive posture, the other offensive.

Troutrooper pointed to the Valley of Monuments. “Are we done yet? Can we proceed with all due haste out of here before we add our skeletons to the piles?”

“You first,” she said, violet eyes narrowed, not moving from her target.

“Sure,” the Arconanl shrugged as he headed north. “You'll still make it there before me. I am—cursed bolts!—quite a bit slower.” Another bolt sparkled out of existence against his blade. “At least these homing electric missiles aren't strong.”

Selika snorted as she fell in line behind the fish. “How much slower would you be after taking a couple to, say, your back and legs?”

“I'd rather not find out.”

They proceeded in silence broken by the howling wind and periodic deflection of the crystal-born blue bolts. Troutrooper walked as fast as his sweat-showered, fatigued, sun- and wind-burnt fishy body would move. Selika relaxed, the pace much slower than her normal clip.

The light was gone, only four blue crystals and two purple sabers illuminated the slave grave. The wind, however, showed no signs of vanishing. The swirling gusts knifed through their robes, adding an annoying pain to the march over death's bounty.

“There,” Troutrooper pointed at the entrance to the Valley of Monuments as he paused. “Another...kilometer, two at most...”

“Stop stall—“ she waved away another bolt, “—ing and go.”

The Dark Jedi Master grunted as he resumed the trek.

A little more than a kilometer of waddling later and the two arrived at the entrance to the Valley of Monuments. The Mon Cal plopped down, panting, groaning, dropping his weapon. He waved for her to go ahead as he reached for his lightsaber.

“Get up,” the highborn lady said, her disgust and disdain palpable. “We’re here. I don’t want to sully my good name by being in your presence any longer than I have to.” She offered her hand.

Troutrooper waved the hand away. “Go...if you want. I’ll wait—” The Elder finally took a blue bolt—his first like Selika’s—in the back. He arched his back, grimacing.

“Pain...Glorious pain,” the Epis smiled as she grabbed his bulbous head. “Here, enjoy some more.” Selika closed her eyes and squeezed his head.

He screamed, a gargling, clogged wail of raw anguish.

The Plagueian reveled in his misery as he crumpled to the ground. “Yes...Yes! Feel your powers weaken! Broken body and now broken soul. Your mission ends here, fish. But your journey through the depths of pain begins...” She released him—the inquisition complete—and flicked her fingers, flinging Troutrooper’s saber away. Selika’s own purple blade ignited. “Now, how to begin? What part should I bore through first? Decisions, decisions…”

Troutrooper raised a flipper. His opponent ignored the request. As she thrust her blade, the Arconan sagged to his right, flipper still held up. A bolt from the north crystal hit his raised flipper and was deflected into his tormenter. Though reduced in power from the ricochet, the redirected bolt consumed Selika’s attention for an instant.

A mass of tangled bluish-white ropes of electricity erupted from Troutrooper’s flippertips, a tsunami of condensed dark side energy compared to the blue bolt’s trickles. The Elder-strong lightning lifted the Epis off the ground and through the Valley's entrance, slamming her head against a rock wall. Concussed and smoking, Selika saw multiple Mon Cals slowly approach her.

“First your cheek...now your head,” the Dark Jedi Master said after giving her a once-over. “No permanent damage...I don't envy...tomorrow's headache.” He knelt next to her, almost falling over onto her. “Now, time to bury...my treasure...” A clammy flipper mushed against her face.

You will survive this encounter; I will attack you no further. You will complete your mission and ransack the Valley of Monuments. When you return to your base, you will transmit the coordinates and access codes for the Anchorage to my secure holonet server. Then you will forget this mind trick. Blink twice if you understand your instructions.

Selika blinked twice then closed her eyes, her body slumping into unconsciousness.

Troutrooper nodded. “Rest...Never been so…jealous of a Plagueian before...” He clicked his comlink. “Come get me...If sleeping...please don't wake.”

"Stop!" Troutrooper's order was accompanied by a gesture of his webbed hand.

The Force reached out and caught Selika, stopping her cold and holding her suspended a handspan above the ground. She struggled against the master's Force grip like an animal in a trap, her mind clouded by bloodlust. All reason had left her, her only desire was to rip the Arconan to pieces.

"Feel your surroundings, Plagueian. This place, it twists your mind. I can sense it clawing at me, searching for purchase in my consciousness," Troutrooper said calmly.

Selika simply struggled more, oblivious to Troutrooper's words. Then, suddenly, she felt a pressure on her mind.

"You are being controlled," the Arconan spoke flatly with a wave of his hand. "You must resist."

Like a fog lifting in the face of the sun, Selika's mind finally cleared. She gasped for breath, as if she had ascended from a great depth and finally reached the surface. Troutrooper's Force grip slackened and Selika dropped to her knees.

"What did you do?" she asked breathlessly.

Troutrooper folded his arms across his chest. "Mind tricks are not restricted to crafting lies. They can also be used to force truth into a clouded mind."

Selika nodded, finally able to direct her senses outward. The feelings of anger, fear, and pain were palpable now. There didn't seem to be any single consciousness driving it, no spirits of long dead Sith lashing out from their tombs. It was simply power, unfocused and oppressive. It ebbed and flowed, battering her like waves on a beach.

"It seems that whatever this place is," Troutrooper continued, "it does not want to give up its secrets."

The omnipresent darkness seemed to intensify as if in response to his words, with the wind building into a roiling maelstrom.

"Having failed to drive us onto one another's blades, it seems to be taking the more direct approach," Selika observed nervously. Whatever dark power now faced them, it instilled a fear in her that dwarfed her fear of the Arconan master.

Sand was lifted by the wind from the edges of the canyon, with more rising up from below the bones to join in. Within moments they were caught in a preternaturally violent sandstorm, their visibility reduced to a few meters. The two Krath stood next to one another and erected their defenses to deflect the driving sand away from their bodies. The sand was accompanied by dark Force energy that swirled around them, lashing their minds as well as bodies.

Selika's skill was less formidable than Troutrooper's and, for just a moment, her control faltered. The dark energy exploited the momentary lapse in her defenses and ripped into her. The shield that protected her from the fury of the storm collapsed and the sand sliced into her. She screamed in pain as the sand drew blood from a thousand places on her body to join that which already ran down her cheek. She staggered forward blindly, her hands waving before her as she tried to escape the tempest now tearing at her flesh.


Troutrooper heard Selika's scream and turned to face her. For a heartbeat he saw the storm raging around the human female, but then his perceptions changed.

"Omiti…"

Instead of Selika, he now saw his dying wife. She was as he had seen her last, a withered shell of the woman he had fallen in love with all those years ago. Now the storm ripped at her flesh causing blood to run from her wounds, her anguished wail tearing at him as he watched her stagger away from him.

"Why have you left me?" she cried, her voice nearly a scream.

Troutrooper moved to follow her, his forearm held before his face for protection as he slowly tried to catch her. If he could only reach her he could extend his protective barrier to shield her, he could save her!

"My suffering gave you too much pleasure! You left me to die alone!" she shrieked.

"No!" Troutrooper called after her as she moved farther and farther away. "I can save you!"

No matter how hard he tried, Troutrooper could not reach her. Her accusations devolved into wordless screams of pain as he watched the flesh stripped from her bones. The woman he had shared so many years with was gone. All that remained was a skeleton polished by the sand and ready to join the sea of bones that filled the canyon. The power he had drawn from her suffering, the anguish that had fueled him, did not come this time. The fear and pain he felt was like a crushing weight instead of welcome power.

Once he finally reached where his wife had fallen he realized the bones were not those of a Mon Calamari. They were quite obviously human, lacking the high domed skull that characterized his race. Reaching out with the Force Troutrooper called a bit of shining metal into his hand from where it lay near the bones. A saber with serpent-wrapped hilt was all that remained of Selika Roh. The wood that had formed the outer casing had been stripped away from the metal just as its owner's flesh had been stripped from bone.

The raging storm still swirled around the Mon Calamari, and the danger in this place was still very real. Whatever power that had lain dormant here, the pain of thousands of slaves amplified over the centuries by those ancient Sith crystals, was more than enough to fell even one such as himself. It had already breached the vaunted mental defenses which he had honed during his years as a spymaster. Now he finally realized why the One Sith had left this canyon undefended.

"They weren't stupid enough to risk coming here," he observed harshly. "If this place is important enough to the Iron Throne, let Ashen himself come and face it."

Troutrooper turned and headed back the way he had come, thinking that some mysteries were better left unsolved.