I own nothing. Least of all this.

"Sing me a song of a lad that is gone;

Say could that lad be I?

Merry of soul, he sailed on a day

Over the sea to sky."

- Traditional Scottish Ballad

1) A LONG, LONG, TIME AGO

In hindsight, trying to pronounce Lovecraftian names at 3 in the morning was perhaps not the brightest idea I've ever had. But hey, you try running a DND campaign for a bunch of murderhobos and see just how far you end up willing to go to stop them.

Real shame the resulting green portal didn't show up in the middle of a session.

My tumble down the Rabbit Hole went about how you'd expect: unspeakable eldritch horrors, time knives galore, God's Last Words to His Creation...you know, the usual. If you are, in fact, unfamiliar with the usual, may I direct your attention to the boat ride from Willy Wonka and The Chocolate Factory. End result is about the same when it comes to imagery.

Keeping said imagery in mind, it should come as absolutely no surprise to anyone that the very first thing I did upon my rather hard encounter with the surface on the other side of the swirling vortex...was pass out. Leaving me blissfully ignorant of the chaos my arrival was already causing.

On Dathomir, the dreams of a Sleeper were, for a moment, filled with that which all monsters fear.

On Atollon, the mind of a Beast turned ever so briefly from balance, towards that hissing silence found in the void between stars.

On Coruscant, the visions of a Master twisted so far past recognizable shapes and figures that the mind of their recipient broke underneath the strain.

On Naboo, the illusions of an Apprentice briefly shimmered and dissipated, leaving his true visage exposed to an empty office.

On Wayland, something that was all of these, and more, roused from it's meditation long enough to open a single eyelid and mutter the word, "Interesting".

And on a derelict space station deep within the Maw, I awoke.

To be specific, I awoke to the sound of a lightsaber snapping to life in front of my face.

At first, I merely assumed I had (yet again) fallen asleep in the middle of a Clone Wars marathon. That idea was quickly scrapped when I remembered I'd been in the middle of monster research, and my players had already eviscerated the strongest one I could find in the Star Wars canon (the Zillo Beast). And Legends material I'd left for reserve in case any of my players needed to be executed with extreme prejudice.

Which was becoming more and more appealing of an option by the day.

I grunted, and forcefully pushed my eyelids open against the onslaught of light. Hmm...green blade. Pale skin, blonde hair, and golden-tinged irises. Realistic looking robes, and dilapidated yet futuristic surroundings. Either the quality of cosplay at my local convention had gone up dramatically, or I wasn't in Kansas anymore.

I racked my brain trying to put a name to the face currently regarding me with mixed amounts of both horror and rage. "...Asajj Ventress?"

No reaction. Door number two… "Komari Vosa?"

Paydirt.

"How do you know my name?" she hissed.

"Oh, I know lots of things!" I groaned as I pushed myself off the floor. "LOTS OF THINGS."

Aaaand I'd apparently resorted to copying Bill Cipher as a coping mechanism. Wonderful.

The lightsaber was suddenly quite a lot closer to my throat. "WHO ARE YOU?"

Right. I forgot; off the rails ex-Jedi. I swallowed, and nervously eyed the blade pointed directly behind my eyes. "...Would you believe me if I said I was no one of consequence?"

"NO! YOU ARE AN ABOMINATION!"

"Hey, that's kinda harsh! I mean, I know it's probably been sixteen hours since I slept, so…"

"I DON'T CARE! NAME! NOW!"

"Right! Name! Uhhhh…."

Hey, would you give your real name to a violent, superpowered psychopath? I think the heck not. So, I did the only responsible thing I could think of:

I gave her a fake one.

"...Black. Mister Black."

One eyebrow went up. "Really."

I nodded vigorously. "Cross my heart and hope to die!"

"Oh good! CAUSE DYING IS WHAT YOU'RE ABOUT TO DO!"

Yeaahhhh, I shoulda seen that coming.

If my route through the (apparently derelict) space station would've had a soundtrack, I can one-hundred percent guarantee you it would've been Yakety Sax. You know, being chased by a Force-enhanced individual and all. High speeds. Very high speeds.

Adrenaline is a heck of a drug, kids. Almost as good as caffeine!

Unfortunately, my pursuer being infinitely more familiar with the station's layout than I was, I soon found myself running down a corridor that led straight to a dead end. Literally a dead end; I could see the skeletons lying on the floor up ahead.

Good news: there was only one space station I knew of with skeletons that looked like that. Bad news: I could probably guess why it was I ended up here of all places after trying to pronounce the name of Nyarlahotep's cousin. Turns out there's an Ever-Hunger in both Star Wars and Lovecraftian literature. Who would've guessed?

"WHY THE HELL ARE YOU TRYING TO WAKE UP ABELOTH?!" I shouted behind me as I ran.

"WHO THE KRIFF IS ABELOTH?!" came the reply.

...Wait, what.

Against my better judgement, I skidded to a stop. Vosa, however, did not. She hit like a herd of Cape Buffalo being chased by an African cheetah, and we both went flying.

For the second time that day, I sat up with a groan. "Okay, time out. Whaddyou mean, who's...huh."

I looked down at the lightsaber that was now about two-feet long, give or take. The other two feet I assumed were buried in my gut somewhere, since that was where the trail of violent green light ended. You know, I really expected a lightsaber wound to hurt more than that.

I was just about to chalk it up to a combination of shock and the afore-mentioned adrenaline, when the last part of the blade gave a flicker...and then promptly died. Revealing a rather conspicuous lack of hole through my internal organs.

I took a deep breath in, and then, in a very calm voice, said, "Okay, WHAT ON EARTH IS GOING ON AROUND HERE?!"

Vosa just stared. First at her sputtering lightsaber hilt, and then at me.

I gave a sigh. "Right; let's take things from the top. Your name is Komari Vosa, correct?"

She nodded dumbly.

"Excellent! Now, can you tell me, exactly, just why it is that I am here?"

"...They took me." She began in a monotone. "They said they were going to use me; that I would release the Queen of the Stars for them. And that when She was free, She would make the universe as it was meant to be: Chaos."

Her eyes locked with mine, and then shied away in fear. "You're not Her; but you're like Her. I can feel it, around you: the Chaos. Wherever you go, the Force shrieks in pain...and then dies. You killed my lightsaber…"

...Well, this was a right kettle of fish. "Soooo, this...Chaos. It's around me, right?"

Up and down went her head.

"What bout inside me; what's that like?"

"Nothing. It's just...Nothing. Like a black hole, but opposite. You're actively rejecting the Force." She curled her knees in under her arms. "It hurts to look at. Are you going to kill me?"

"What the...why would I do that?"

"They, the...the Bando Gora; they didn't get what they wanted. They got you; and they all died. I thought you did it."

I shrugged. "It's possible; I kill a lot of people."

Mostly NPCs and BBEGs, but it was the thought that counted. That being said, PC murder was rapidly becoming a favorite fantasy of mine.

"But, I can promise that I am not going to kill you."

She blinked. "...You're not?"

"Of course not! In case you haven't noticed, you're the only one around here who can fly a spaceship. And I for one want to get as far away from here as humanly, or alien-ly, possible."

Her chin jutted out daringly. "And why would I want to let anyone the Bando Gora released out into the galaxy at large?"

"Because darling, the Bando Gora are still out there. More will come; and eventually, they will break down the door." I dusted myself off, and stood. "And not only do I hate Abeloth, or the Queen of Stars, whichever you prefer...not only do I hate Her, but I am frankly the best shot this galaxy has of stopping her."

"You? Just who the kriff are you, anyway?"

"Me?" A dramatic pause; a straightening of my cap; and then… "I'm just a guy on vacation. Now come along, Vosa; we have work to do."

Surprisingly, Vosa turned out to be a passable companion for long road...er, space trips.

She absent-mindedly tapped on a display I could only half-understand; my Aurebesh was basic, at best. "So; what's so special about Myrkr?"

My eyes never left the scroll of data I was laboriously typing into a datapad. "Long story short, a native animal, thought to be genetically-engineered to fight the Rakatans, that can block a sentient's connection to the Force."

The tapping stopped. "...And we need one of these why, exactly?"

I sighed, and rubbed my eyes. "One, because it's obviously uncomfortable for you just to be in the same parsec as me, and I'd like to improve working relations if I can. Two, I know for a fact there are multiple Sith running around the galaxy, and I'd like to meet them on an even playing field, so to speak. Thirdly, if we should happen to run into another Jedi, I'd really rather not have them finding out exactly what I am. Force Nulls aren't historically well-received by the Order."

"The Exile, you mean."

"Meetra Sutrik; and kinda. And finally, if anyone at all is in residence, so to speak, I'm pretty sure we can peacefully deal with a few smugglers."

Which we did. One refuel (and three ysalamiri) later, and lighter by a few pounds of loot from dead Bando Gora, we were on our way to our second destination: Mandalore.

"Remind me why the kriff we're infiltrating Mandalorian peace talks, again?"

"Because we need Adonai Kryze alive if we want any hope of beating Abelith and her cronies; and there just so happens to be a Sith Lord directly in front of us ready to assassinate him."

"A Sith?" she hissed. "Here? And you didn't warn me?"

I smirked. "I'm warning you know, aren't I?"

Whatever her reply was, it was cut short as our target noticed our approach.

"Ah yes;" Hego Damask the Second, aka Darth Plagueis, bowed his head. "I've been expecting this."

Ah crud; he must've had a vision. Welp, no choice but to yolo this and hope it worked anyway. "Package for Damask, Hego; just sign here, please, and she's all yours."

The Muun Sith raised what would've been an eyebrow. "She?"

I gave a shrug. "As far as we can tell. No one down at the office can tell for sure; never seen one before. Something called a 'ysalamiri', whatever that is."

"An answer, I believe," Damask took the package, "To a great many problems. Good day to you, my good man."

"Pleasure doing business with you, sir." I bowed my head, and made my retreat, Vosa hard on my heels.

"What the kriff were you thinking, talking to a Sith Lordin public?"

"You know, you really shouldn't swear so much. Or at the very least, branch out a bit. Doesn't 'kriff' get boring after a while?"

"No, it kriffing doesn't. Now answer the bloody question!"

"Geesh, alright, alright! I was thinking that our list of allies is pretty thin at the moment, and that the Sith are, quite frankly, the best option available to collaborate with. There's one other person we can ask, but they are way out of the way, and we needed Kryze saved now. Relax; there's a datapad in the package that'll tell him exactly what we want him to know, and nothing more."

"Like exactly why it is Kryze needed to live?"

"Exactly. And the ysalamiri oughta keep him from doing anything rash in the meantime."

Particularly when he got to the bits I'd recorded about the various stupidities of his Apprentice.

"But since I completely agree one should never put one's faith entirely in the devil, it would perhaps be in our best interests if we visited the second-best option as well."

"And just where would they happen to be?"

I grinned. "Why Dathomir, of course!"

She stared at me. "...You're kriffing insane."

"Sure I am; what's your point?"