100k words! hurray! Also the last chapter that quite a few of my loyal reads cannot review on, as I learned, deleting AUs and anything set aside as a chapter had consequences... I still it silly that you can only review a chapter once, but I guess there's little I can do about that. Other news, I have a new story being designed on word doc, but I'm withholding from posting it as to not detract more than it already does from my current stories. perhaps when one or the other is finished I'll share that one, but we shall see. Anyway, Fun and exciting times. Review if you can please, and enjoy!
Chapter Sixteen
Shadows and Threats
Darth Millennial walked casually through the streets of Diagon Alley. The wizarding market was bustling in its typical daily business, but the Sith Lord had far more interesting things on his illustrious mind.
Now that the mutant knew what he was looking at, the Force's presence in the magical world became more than apparent, and its majesty rang out with every spell and every passive incantation throughout the crowded marketplace. Millennial knew that he himself would never harness its power in its fullness like these wizards unknowingly did, but as a Master over the Cosmic Force; he could affect this new found branch of power to a remote degree. This would allow the Dark Lord of the Sith to pass off as a wizard to the extent needed if magic was demanded of him on any occasion.
If Millennial was to give a name to this branch off of the great mystery, he would have to call it the Wild Force, as it seemed to flow without rhyme or reason, and quite often defying all manner of meta-physical laws. Yet all the same, it abode by many of the same laws that governed the other two branches of the Force, the Cosmic and the Living. It had a Light and a Dark side, and it was the darkness of this Wild Force that called to Millennial, drawing him to the place known as Knockturn Alley.
The last time he had come to this place with his apprentice, they had found a few small baubles with Force potential among the dusty tomes and dark artifacts. Now however, with his newfound knowledge and ability to detect the Wild Force, Millennial was confident that he would be able to locate more promising treasures to further the Sith cause within the shadowy side street.
Slipping into the alleyway, Millennial meandered past several dusty shop fronts and downtrodden wretches dressed in dark cloaks and rags. None dared approach the Lord of the Sith, each rather fleeing as the insects they were in comparison. Millennial paused in front of a window display of a building named 'Dystyl Phaelanges,' piles of bones were decoratively arranged. What drew the Sith Lord's eye was the large blackened skull in the center of the display, and behind its empty sockets resided a sinister gleam that was alive with Dark Side energy.
Entering the dusty shop caused a chime to sound further in the building, no doubt summoning a clerk, but Millennial was too focused on examining the skull for signs of dangers or special abilities. It was unusually large, and clearly not human in origin, with sharp tusk-like fangs protruding downward from what remained of the upper jaw.
"May I help you sir?" the clerk said as he arrived, and Millennial turned to him with the skull in hand, fingers delicately rotating it as the Sith Lord glanced at it from all angles.
"Yes…" he said slowly, looking at the young man who had appeared to assist him, "what can you tell me about this item?"
"That one sir?" the clerk said with confusion, pointing at the skull before recovering his composure, "there's not much to tell, from what we've discovered it's a simple Ork skull that has been enchanted as the center focus for wards and enchantments."
There was an awkward hastiness in the way the clerk was speaking that Millennial immediately picked up on. The Force was needed to know the man before him was lying, attempting to pass off the relic as some cheap run-of-the-mill component.
"I see…" Millennial said, turning away from the man and making as if to set the skull back in the display, before abruptly hefting it again, "then again, I do have need of a new set of wards on another home I recently acquired, and…"
"No!" the shop keep blurted desperately
Millennial pounced on the opportunity, "So it's more than a simple spell focus is it?"
The man was sweating by now, and began to backpedal with his story, "I mean… you see…"
"Or," Millennial cut in again, leveling the power of the Force to intimidate his victim further, "is it that you are merely trying to deceive me…"
The tactic was most effective. "I… but… well…" the man was stuttering. Millennial took advantage again, and leveled a powerful wave of dominative control through the Force, compelling the tiny insect of a human to obey, "You will tell me all you know of this skull, now..."
The shop clerk staggered backward, but his eyes glazed over and without his own awareness of it, he began to reveal his secret, "It hasn't told me all its secrets yet, but it's ancient, from before the dawn of humans on this earth. Gor-lak the Cruel was his name, and he was a great warlock of terrible power in his clan."
The rest of the story progressed in tow, growing more and more interesting to Millennial as the man spoke. Gor-lak seemed to have been of the ancient Ork clans before they were completely wiped out by a group of wanderers from beyond which magical legends called 'The Je'daii'. The name registered with Millennial quicker than lightning, and all the pieces of the grand puzzle of why he had chosen to remain on the pitiful world clicked into place.
Long before the great Force Wars that divided the Jedi and Sith for all time, which war was still waged by Millennial and his apprentice to the current day, there existed only one group of Force users who wielded both Light and Darkness. From what little Millennial knew of the origin of the orders, there had been many worlds that had been touched and beings drawn to the planet Tython to join the ranks of the Je'daii. It only made sense that, if confronted with a being destructive and hateful like what this Ork was described to be, that he would be destroyed rather than be allowed to wreak more havoc.
With the history uncovered, Millennial turned his attention back to the object in his hand, "So, what happened after the Je'daii left this world?"
The man shook his head, suddenly shaky and looking around in a wild sort of way. "I don't know any more than that, but we have great plans, Master Gor-lak and I…" he laughed slightly, and Millennial saw the mad gleam appearing in the young man's eyes as he continued to rant.
The Sith Lord turned to leave the madman to his insanity, but upon attempting to exit with the skull in hand, the clerk screamed and rushed at the Darksider. Sighing inwardly, Millennial caught the man with the Force, lifting him off the ground and simply crushed his windpipe, tossing him farther into the store with a flick of the wrist.
Leaving quickly as to not be discovered when someone else entered the shop to find the unfortunate wretch, Millennial stowed his prize in his cloak and returned to the entrance to the muggle side of London.
If the skull had the ability to drive the weak minded mad with its tantalizing whispers, Millennial pondered, it must be powerful indeed. The Dark Lord of the Sith was still not fully certain what uses the Sith would have for this artifact or its connection with the Je'daii of old, but combining its potential with the chaotic might of the Wild Force, there may yet be ways of unraveling the mysteries of the ancient Ork, Gor-lak.
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The day after the disaster of a dueling club, Veneficus planned on 'laying low' as the phrase was, however, it was clearly not meant to be. Retreating to the hidden room on the seventh floor was still out of the question, as he was still being watched closely, Veneficus suspected the moving portraits were the primary tool of spying from the Headmaster, if not his more loyal professors, chief of which continued to be Snape.
Thankfully the potential disaster that had threatened him the previous year was easily averted, now that the Sith Lord had a far greater knowledge of magic then before, by a few moderately advanced nondetection charms and an empty dungeon classroom allowed for a workable temporary training area.
The downside was the lack of any books to research that the room could have produced on a whim, which required utilizing the library and thereby encountering the student populace on another level. Normally Veneficus would simply ignore the weakling children, or even enjoyed the anger and resentment generated by the extra attention from the Chamber fiasco, but the heightened scrutiny was still wearing at his patience.
The prime example revealed itself as Veneficus entered the library to meet with Nott and Boot to discuss the fundamentals of mixing magic with nonmagical technology. Ronald Weasley was on one side of the library; while a gaggle of Hufflepuff second years were grouped over by the invisibility section. Both parties eyed the Sith as he walked past the school Librarian, the Hufflepuff whispering to themselves, while Weasley glared with silent rage.
Pushing the feeling of the entire room full of eyes on him away, Veneficus approached his servants, eager to discuss his vision for the future. The Sith Lord had plans to see about smuggling some droids into the school to assist him project future ideas, but he didn't know how to go about effectively sneaking them in under the Headmaster's crooked nose.
While they spoke on these matters, Veneficus had the unfortunate pleasure, due to his intensified senses from the Force, to overhear the conversation from the nearby Hufflepuff table. It seemed that the children were not as fearful of him when gathered in moderately sized groups, as the seeming ringleader, Macmillan, was perfectly content to ramble on about how the boy Finch-Fletchly had been marked for attack by Veneficus and was not holed up in their common room, cowering most likely if Veneficus thought any of it was true.
It couldn't have been more of a Jedi-like outlook: blatant disregard for the facts if a strict good versus evil morality concept was included. As he had been slowly reeducating Miss Granger, the false illusion of morality held the races of this planet back, as it did the Galaxy as a whole. Only the Sith, able to look past the squeamish qualms of the weaker beings, were capable to direct the course of civilization and do all in their power to lead, no matter the cost.
In the end, Veneficus felt the all too familiar itch to release his frustrations through the Force, and withdrew from the library. The hallways were deserted due to classes, Veneficus and a few others being the exception due to a heavy winter snowfall in the grounds, and his progress toward the dungeons was unhindered until a creeping sensation of the Force stopped the Sith in his tracks.
It was… different… from any disturbance in the Force that he had felt before. Not an outright warning of immediate danger, but more like a nudge to do a specific action. In this case, he felt impressed upon to don his large heavy cloak modeled in classic Sith fashion. He had taken to carrying it with him in a well concealed side compartment of his bag, for the occasion of needing to slip away for practice if need demanded it.
Donning the black cloak and drawing the hood far over his face, Veneficus felt the urge to proceed in the opposite direction of the dungeons, back towards the library and down the transfiguration corridor. Uncertain what he was to find, Veneficus proceeded with extreme caution, dodging into every shadow despite his continued lack of encounters with another sentient being.
Halfway down a long corridor, the Darksider encountered the causation of his most unusual prompting from the Force. It was Finch-Fletchly, lying on the floor in a rigid and very awkward state, with a ghost of all things floating eerily horizontal beside him. They were both clearly petrified, just as the previous victims of the 'Heir'.
Veneficus looked quickly up and down the corridor, fanning out his senses with the Force to make absolutely certain that he was alone. Being caught here with another set of victims would definitely be the final straw for the staff concerning him, yet he had to examine the pair for clues to the identity of their attacker. Neither his natural or Force-based senses returned any indication of another presence for a long way off, so the Sith felt safe enough to approach the fallen student and ghost.
The blank eyes of the lanky Hufflepuff were filled with frozen fright as Veneficus knelt over him. Copying the technique that he had used on Colin, the Sith Lord stole into the boy's memories, searching quickly for the scene of the attack.
Finch-Fletchly's memory was far more organized and informative than Colin's had been, and Veneficus had no problems finding the memory in question. The boy had left from a hidden passageway and had met the ghost, named Nick, at the midpoint of the corridor. Veneficus chose to ignore their mundane conversation, watching the end of the corridor past the ghost for signs of movement.
It didn't take long before a shadow appeared around the corner of the corridor. Finch-Fletchly looked at the person, confusion on his face, while the ghost seemed to recognize the figure. "Miss Weasley…" the ghost started, but unfortunately at learning of her discovery the girl dodged back behind the corner, but not before Veneficus spotted the small book in her hand. There was a rapid burst of hissing, and a flash of yellow came around the corner, lighted through the ghost, and the memory went black.
Reeling back out of the boy's mind, Veneficus realized through the Force immediately that he was no longer alone.
"Caught in the act…" the intruder said breathlessly, and Veneficus turned his head to see Macmillan standing with his wand leveled at him.
The Darksider had a split second to decide what to do, and with the guidance of the Force he took action, leaping at the stout Hufflepuff and seizing his wand arm, muffling the boy's mouth with his free hand to halt any yell or incantation. Macmillan struggled, but the pureblood was not fit for any physical confrontation, which allowed Veneficus the upper hand by default.
The boy's wand was sent flying away by slamming his wrist into the stone wall, and quicker than Macmillan could react Veneficus began dragging him toward a deserted room. Once inside a burst of the Force threw the Hufflepuff across the room, while the Sith slashed his own wand at the door, sealing it both physically and magically, and warding the room from sound and detection.
Quite appropriately Macmillan was frightened, standing far back from Veneficus with several rows of desks between them. "N-now hold on there…" he said shakily, holding both arms out, "I might tell you that my family goes back through several generations of witches and warlocks and my blood's as pure as anyone's, so…"
"Silence…" Veneficus cut in coldly, freezing the boy's words in this mouth, "I couldn't care less about your blood purity or lack thereof."
Veneficus stalked around the obstacles towards the boy, and with a casual flick of his wrists, his wand and lightsaber fell into each hand. A grin manifested on the young Sith's face as the Hufflepuff boy blanched at the sight of the igniting crimson blade. "N-no! Stay away!" he started to scream, panic developing rapidly, but no one would hear him through Veneficus' silencing wards on the room.
The Dark Side fed on the boy's fear, and Veneficus by extension felt swelled beyond measure by it, bolstering his confidence. 'A pity that the boy's death would never go unnoticed,' he mused, as he toppled Macmillan with a petrification hex, rendering him immobile yet conscious. Wielding his saber with exact precision, Veneficus tortured the irritating little rumorist, spreading light burns on the boy's arms and torso with the very tip of his saber. No permanent damage was to be inflicted, to make it look like a blunder on the part of the 'Heir of Slytherin'.
After the saber work was finished, Veneficus stowed the deadly weapon away, turning to his emerging favorite tool of the Sith arsenal: lightning. Many light current volts flew in an arc over the boy, singing his skin and robes, and giving him a most interesting display of agony, from what emotion Veneficus could see in the boy's eyes. The Sith was most impressed that the boy had not passed out as of yet, but it would be no matter, he would make it appear for all that Macmillan survived the attack that happened to Finch-Fletchly and the ghost.
When at last the physical appearance was completed, Veneficus stood over the rigid form and stared into the horrified and pained eyes of his victim. Aiming his wand, Veneficus stole into the boy's memories, and using a complex form of both the Force and magic, erased Macmillan's remembrance of meeting Veneficus in the corridor, replacing it with portions of Finch-Fletchly's, and modifying it together to give the impression that the two Hufflepuffs were together when attacked.
Lastly, after removing the magical restrains and knocking the boy out completely, Veneficus dump the body back with the others, erased all indication that he had been present, and modified the memory of Finch-Fletchly to match his creation. The ghost's mind was far more difficult to bend to his will, but after several minutes of concentration, Veneficus succeeded in setting his perfect ruse.
Blending into the shadows, Veneficus waited for the three to be discovered, which took a surprisingly short time, as the ever irritating ghost, Peeves, soon flew across the scene and raised the alarm.
"ATTACK! ATTACK! ANOTHER ATTACK! NO MORTAL OR GHOST IS SAFE! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES! ATTAAAACK!" he bellowed at the top of his voice as the doors all along the corridor burst open, disgorging students and staff alike onto the scene. Removing his Sith cloak and hiding it back in his bag, Veneficus joined the crowd from his hiding place, blending perfectly into the sea of horrified students.
Professors McGonagall, Flitwick and Sinistra were the only teachers present, and along with the students, were at a loss as to what had happened. Inevitably, they banished the students back to their houses, and took to the removal of the victims to the Hospital Wing, going so far as to conjure a fan to blow the ghost along with them down the corridor.
Shrouding his satisfaction, Veneficus returned to the dungeons, certain that the news would be circulated quickly. While suspicion would naturally fall on him yet again, the Sith knew that the real attacker would be confused at the difference of victims, and realize that someone was on to him. On top of it all, Veneficus now knew the attacker. The little Weasley girl, and also that the little book that Anguis' father had planted on her was somehow involved in these matters. For once in his stay at the magical school, time was on his side.
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Septin frowned as he stepped into the dimly lit cantina after Zhar. Watching the older man immediately approach the bar and sit down only confirmed in his mind that they would be stuck here for a while. Sighing inwardly, Septin recalled some of his old training for information gathering and set about the cantina nondescriptly, eavesdropping on conversations. For it being the middle of the day, there was a surprising amount of people gathered around tables and in booths, mainly offworlders with a smattering of natives, and it was somewhat difficult for Septin to maneuver around undetected.
Most groups consisted of peoples from one system, and thusly they conversed in their own languages, which Septin could not understand. However, toward the very back on the building was a mixed group which included several Tiss'shar. Taking a seat in the neighboring booth and looking nondescript, Septin leaded in to listen to what they were saying in hushed tones.
"…are we in agreement then?" one of the Tiss'shar said, the diamond shaped scales of his forearms resting on the tabletop as a single of his handful of sharp claws tapped rhythmically on the wooden surface. The others beings that were seated all nodded in response. It was a rather motley crew, Septin noted, consisting of two Tiss'shar, a human, and an iridonian.
"So when do we meet with the resistance?" the human asked, catching Septin's ear.
"Soon," the second Tiss'shar replied. This one had a large cloak on covering his features from everyone present, "we need to get a few more people involved and armed, and then we'll be ready to strike back at the tyrant."
"And how long is that supposed to take?" grunted the iridonian. The human shushed his companion, before glancing around suspiciously. "Not so loud…"
"We'll meet here again in a few days, and then take you to the resistance HQ." the first Tiss'shar said finally, before the group stood, each leaving in a different direction.
After the last of them, the Tiss'shar in the long cloak left the cantina, Septin manuvered his way back to sitting next to Zhar. Casually he leaned forward and said out of the corner of his mouth, "group of resistance members meeting here tomorrow, before heading to their headquarters."
"Good," Zhar said, stretching lazily and taking a long drink, "gives us time to check out the centers, have a few more drinks, and get supplies from the ship…" the bartender arrived, planting a few more glasses of multicolored drinks in front of Zhar, who slid one to Septin, "Come, try this one."
Septin hesitated, but at the older man's urging finally took a small sip of the liquid. It was awful, searing his throat and burning his tongue as the liquid passed through. Zhar laughed at the face Septin pulled as he spit part of the drink out. Setting the drink aside, Septin relaxed against the bar. This was going to be a long day.
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Severus was quickly becoming thoroughly frustrated with all the mystery that was going on in Hogwarts, and more so that Harry-bloody-Potter seemed to always be in the thick of it. The attack on the Hufflepuff second years and the Gryffindor house ghost sent the student body into full blown panic, and more so because the ghost had been petrified than anything else. Many of the students were suddenly switching their decisions to stay at the castle out of pure fright, with Macmillan first and foremost of them.
Both Severus and the Headmaster had questioned the boy of what he had seen, praising the powers above that there had been a witness that survived the attack, and both were equally disappointed with the story they had heard. The boy had been facing Finch-Fletchly and Sir Nicholas, and therefore hadn't seen anything before being attacked from behind.
What had been more fascinating, upon investigation of a copied memory from the boy, had been the few key inconsistencies that the Potions Master and Headmaster had found. Macmillan could not remember why he had been heading toward that particular corridor, yet in his memory he was running, obviously chasing someone or something that remained just out of sight before happening on his friend and the ghost. Combining this with the boy's difficulty in recalling the memory and the haziness of the copy they had procured, both wizards only surmised one key fact.
Macmillan's memory had been modified.
As to how or why, they were far less certain. It appeared as though there were chunks of memory simple missing, yet it was so nearly seem less in the continuity of Macmillan's thoughts that it was nearly impossible to pinpoint what was fact and what wasn't. Even Albus was not able to fully understand all the factors used in modifying the memory. "It seems somewhat like when your memory was tampered with," he had said to Severus, and the possibility had made his blood run cold.
Each had eventually come to the final conclusion, that if the events were related, there were only two potential possibilities. Either Harry's guardian was involved in some way, or Harry himself had a hand in this. Even the option of Macmillan's attack and the other attack was thrown into speculation. Two possible events, resulting in attacked students, and one tagging theirs onto the other. It was equally possible, but also equally uncertain. There simply was no proof to be had, and to turn again to Harry and ask point black seemed ill advised considering his outburst to the last attempt.
With Christmas approaching fast, and many of the students leaving for the holiday, both Albus and Severus agreed that it would be a good time to attempt again to reach out to the mysterious guardian of Harry Potter, and hope that new light could be shed on his involvement with the attacks, if any. Albus feared that they were running low on options to protect the school, and even offhanded said that the governors were whispering about closing the school. Those words sparked a thought in Severus' mind. Hadn't Lucius recently mentioned that Blackmoore had been appointed a school governor?
Perhaps a meeting of the board with the school heads needed to be arranged during the break, to 'access' the situation.
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Anguis was most intrigued when his master informed him that the riddle of the little black book in the Weasley girl's possession had been solved, and that they need to get it from her. How they were to do so, however, posed to be quite difficult with the student body on high alert. The first years were moving in large herds by this point, and Lord Veneficus couldn't approach them with the group of eleven year olds scattering like frightened mice.
That left one plan, Anguis had to recover the book from the girl, alone.
Fortunately, the second year Slytherins left their Defense against the Dark Arts class slightly early, and crossed the path of the first year Gryffindors in the Entrance Hall as the mob of children entered the castle from Herbology. Veneficus sent a pointed look at Anguis, before ducking out of sight into the dungeon stairwell. Knowing that time was short, Anguis doubled back in the line of Slytherins and started after the red haired girl. Approaching the knot of children, the Darksider hesitated when the slightly off-looking blond girl turned back to watch him, but none of the others seemed to notice as they walked along the corridors and up the grand staircase.
Finally, as the group rounded the a corner on the fourth floor, Anguis ducked behind a suit of armor and took aim with his wand, sending a cutting hex at the redhead's bag. It split open at the seams, spilling the contents all over the corridor. the girls jumped, and started to scramble about to help retrieve the Weasley girl's items. Spying the black book instantly, Anguis focused his will on it, and pulled with the Force.
In the confusion caused by the bag breaking open, none of the students mercifully noticed when the little book went shooting across the floor toward where Anguis was hidden, all except the blond, who watched with a half-confused, half-grateful expression on her face. Anguis raised an eyebrow at that, but soon enough the Gryffindors had finished gathering the fallen items and were again making their way back along the corridor.
Anguis waited till they were out of earshot, before sprinting back down to his waiting master, in their improvised bolt hole of a hideout in the dungeons. Veneficus smirked as he was presented the little black book, and turned it slowly in his hands, examining it with the Dark Side.
"Most interesting…" Lord Veneficus said, "It is unlike anything I've seen before… and yet, familiar in some way that I cannot place."
Anguis didn't need to study the book to have come to the same conclusion, having realized long ago that the book shared a magical similarity with his master. "What do we do now that we have it, Master?" he asked, nudging the Sith Lord to move along with his train of thought.
"Confirm my suspicions about what this book is capable of, which naturally requires us to discover its secrets for ourselves." Veneficus said with an edge of mystery in his voice that Anguis found most irksome. There were far too many instances that he felt that his master was intentionally keeping information from him, but at the same time there was little he could do about it but attempt to attain the same secrets himself.
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Zhar was impressed with the information that Septin had managed to gather while he satisfied his pallet with fine, if not foreign, spirits. The same group the young Ex-Jedi described returned to the cantina as predicted, and together the two Force users tailed the Human, Zabrak, and two Tiss'shar as they made a long winding trek through the congested city.
The two natives, who names the two Darksiders overheard were Mel-Bro-Sarl and Tol-Bar-Arad, kept looking back suspiciously and taking many side detours, presumably to avoid detection, but never once did they spot either Zhar or Septin as they led their allies out of the public areas and deep into the industrial quarter of the Imperial capitol.
Finally halting outside a large abandoned warehouse, covered with vines and other plant life, the two Tiss'shar rapped systematically on the narrow service entrance, hissed to some others inside in their native language, and the group was granted entrance.
"Well, well," Zhar said amusedly, turning back away from the corner of the building and ducking back to where the two Ex-Jedi were hidden, "we seem to have found their hide-away…"
"Yeah," Septin breathed, looking anxious again. Looking around carefully, he added, "How are we going to contact them then?"
Zhar thought for several moments, before confessing, "Didn't really think about it, just figured they'd be interested in more assistance and welcome us with open arms…"
"Now who's thinking like a Jedi?" Septin mocked, quieting immediately when Zhar narrowed his eyes at the boy.
"Then we'll act like Sith, and force them to accept our help…" he concluded, watching as Septin paled, but held resolute.
"Then what's the plan?" he said finally, and Zhar smirked as he directed them back to his watch point of the abandoned building, searching with his eyes for an alternate entrance. It didn't take long to spot a small, partially secluded window overlooking a transport docking platform. "There," he said, indicating it to his apprentice, before they set to climbing the building hiding them from view of the doors.
A normal being would not be capable of making the leap across the span separating the two building, but for one blessed with the gifts of the Force it was a simple matter. It continued to guide the two men as they climbed across the angled rooftops and finally down to the nondescript window, small enough to be nothing more than a steam vent.
Crawling inside and down the length of the duct, Zhar opened a ventilation grate at the end, jumping down to land silently on a large overhanging catwalk. He neither heard nor saw anything on the floor area far below them. Septin landed beside him, and together they started creeping towards an abandoned lift. Unfortunately, the building lacked any interior power, rendering the life useless.
Septin immediately started to look for an alternate means downward, but Zhar was running out of patience. Shoving the door of the life with the Force, he pried it open. The life itself was gone, leaving only an empty shaft and several hanging cables. Leaping inside, Zhar seized a handful of cable, beginning to lower himself hand over hand, Septin following close behind. They climbed for a long while, Zhar growing more concerned as the time passed, 'we should have reached the bottom far sooner than this'. The hanging cables abruptly ended, with an unknown plunge left before the shaft bottomed out. Zhar stretched out with his senses to try and find the bottom, but it was Septin's turn to grow impatient, his youth and rashness taking over as he released the cable and dove into the blackness. Zhar cursed loudly as he let the cable go and plunged after his charge. Down they fell, only able to rely on the Force to soften their landing, which gratefully came far sooner than Zhar feared.
Quickly locating and sliding the lift door wide, Zhar and Septin found themselves farther down than they had initially expected. Instead of the ground floor of the abandoned building, they appeared to be in an underground complex with dim lighting and narrow, winding corridors.
Sensing other beings nearby, Zhar indicated for silence and stealth, and slowly the two stalked along the corridor, bypassing several vacant rooms and intersections. To Zhar, it appeared that this underground complex was built after the facility above, clearly for the purpose of hiding the revolutionary group away from the Emperor's loyalists.
Finally arriving outside a large chamber, Zhar and Septin peered inside through a small crack between the doors where the mechanism controlling it had shorted before sealing it completely. Within were around thirty or so beings, primarily Tiss'shar with a smattering of humans and other near human races.
Up at the front, on a small raised area, stood several robed Tiss'shar, clearly the ones in charge of the gathering. Zhar noted interestingly that they sported translucent white scales and no other markings or indicators of subspecies that was so common among the others of their race.
The biggest of the robe figures raised his arms, and the group of assembled beings began to settle down. Making a snap decision, Zhar slid the doors open silently and slipped inside, Septin on his heels. Zhar was hoping that this was more of a grouping of acquaintances and that they could blend into the mass of beings unseen.
"Brothers and Sisters," the robed leader said in perfect basic, "We are gathered to relay important information to our glorious rising, and the fall of the tyrant of Tiss'sharl." Excited muttering rippled through the crowd, and Zhar felt a twinge of unease as several members of the crowd looked at him and Septin with uncertainty, but the leader continued to speak and all attention returned to him.
"Some of the information we have is not in our favor, as we," the leader indicated the other robed figures, "have learned that the Republic has sent Jedi ambassadors to assist the Emperor in their vaunted quest to wipe us out!"
The effect of those words was instantaneous, the crowd switching emotions from calm and attentive or raging in mere seconds. The Force was singing through the emotion, and Zhar saw Septin have to put a hand to his head to ground himself in reality before being swept up in the madness of the crowd. That when Zhar understood. The robed leader was a Force user, manipulating the crowd with his word and igniting their emotions with the Force.
"But fear not my siblings!" the robed Tiss'shar yelled over the crowd, "For new allies have landed upon Tiss'shar, allies who will turn the tide in our favor to destroy the tyrant and his ties to the vaunted republic. They are with us even now, in this very room!"
Zhar widened his eyes as the robed Tiss'shar turned to indicate him and Septin, "These, wielders of the powers of the Force, yet not Jedi, will be of most important use in our war of freedom!"
The crowd cheered, and several pushing Zhar and Septin forward so all could see. "Return to the surface!" the leader concluded, "we shall call you again when our glorious revolution shall at last begin!"
As the gathered beings dispersed, the robed leader approached Zhar and Septin," Welcome my friends," he said, taking them each by the hand warmly, "I foresaw your timely arrival on our world, and am glad the fate has brought us together to dethrone the tyrant."
"You're a Force user as well then," Zhar said, and the robe Tiss'shar smiled, or at least pulled his lips back to reveal more razor sharp teeth, "Indeed I am, Lord." He responded with a short bow.
"I am Swen-Kek-Hess, at your service my Lords. Whatever needs you have during your stay on our world, I will be most grateful to see that they are fulfilled." Beckoning another robed Tiss'shar forward, this one having green scales with yellow-orange stripes and a prominent ridge atop his head, "This is our friend inside the economic circle of Tiss'sharl, Leh-Ses-Harc. It is through his support that we've been able to make it this far in our fight."
Leh-Ses-Harc nodded at the pair of humans, before speaking a few rapid sentences in Tiss'shar and departing. Swen-Kek-Hess smiled his toothy grin again as he returned to his guests, "I can see that you require information, as well as access the Imperial Palace at the proper time to deal with the Jedi, opening the way for my revolutionaries to liberate our world."
Zhar found the Tiss'shar revolutionary leader very strange, to be so willing to accept them both as allies without any notion of beforehand meeting them, but if it meant that they would accomplish their mission with greater ease, Zhar wasn't going to pass up the extra advantage. He rationalize that if things got too dicey, they could just as easily kill the revolutionaries after they accomplished their goal of regicide.