Forward Note: Hello all! My name is not important, but the author of 'The Arda Campaign' Lord Exar Kun has referred to me as 'L' in the past! I am making this note to inform you that I have SUCCEEDED in convincing him to write part 2, or the sequel for that story! However, I only accomplished this by promising to not only to upload and manage the story (because he's done feeling like shit because of certain people on this website, and to whom of you that concerns you can die in a fire, because unlike him I don't much give a flying f**k what you think about this story or me ^_^ ), but also handle this account as a whole for him.
For that reason I would appreciate you guys who do review to keep doing so, and maybe convince Lord Exar Kun to come back and manage his own story, for which I barely help at all in reality! Either or, if you have reviews or thoughts or whatever feel free to leave them. Just note that I will be the one responding to ya'll not the author, but him and I are friends so if I need to consult him I can, so don't feel incapable of sending messages if you want!
As can be expected though we all have real lives, so updates will be sporadic, sorry can't control that myself. Even with my incentives given to Lord Kun, but I digress I won't go into too much detail there.
Either way, short chapter to begin, but the ball has begun to roll, and there's a LOT to go into. I'm excited, how about you guys? ;)
Chapter 1
Riddle in the Dark Redux
A field was set before her. She held her eyes steady even as what came before her was a thing of darkness and blood. Vast was this field and coated in the swaying leaves of the grasslands of some unknown realm and forgotten or yet to be seen time. The skies were a choked thing, blackness, pillars and spires taller than the mountains churned into the air. Things of smoke and decay that fought ever onward and upward as the skies were tinged in a dulled crimson that spoke of the watering of blood. The winds carried along the ground and waved the weaving grasses as they too were blackened with the fall of soot and ash. Red were their leaves, crimson and dirty in reflection of the blood tinged skies that fell down across the world.
The howl of the winds was a thing of screaming torment, and she could barely stand to listen to it as it called and echoed inside her very mind. The world was full of pain and decay, the natural things of the world were withered, and like a final gasp of air before the release of death the winds wheezed in horrid torment. Her heart fluttered, pounding inside of her mind and flushing blood throughout her body. So tormented had she become as she swung around, or thought she did. Where she beheld a tall lone figure atop a pointed hill made of jagged and blackened rock. The swaying of their black cloak was accentuated against the bloodied skies and distant pillars of smoke that climbed high. Yet, then they seemed to almost fall down upon them like stray lights of the sun glinting and casting back shadow, but were themselves the harbingers of untold shadow and all consuming darkness intent on swallowing you all, in eating all the world.
Her breath caught and her skin turned ice cold, but she dared to take a step forward towards this lone figure. Their cloak shrouded them, but it seemed less to her as a thing of cloth as she neared and with her greater sight. Instead it was as though the shadows from beneath the figure rose up and wrapped themselves around them. Their body was not static, not a thing of solid being but an undulating mass that croaked and slithered against the distant sky. Nearer still she tempts her feet to fall as her mind thrashes in pain. Only to behold the scene as the lone figure ignored her presence, and cast unseen glare down across a far flung valley. She comes to a stop and cries out in long rising and released terror. The valley was grand and flew into a distance beyond comprehension. Strewn across it lay mounds of flesh, body atop body. Unmoving eyelids stare back at her, with horror etched ever onto their faces and cold hardened forms. Above them a fleet of vultures cry and circle above, yet many of them wheeze and whine an unnatural sound as they fly in many packs and pay little attention to the bodies below. Their skin and feathered wings does not move, and they seem to shine like the metal beams of a great fortress as they fly to and fro.
Another howl screeched forth and her hands flew up to her ears. The flowing gown, white and radiant draped along her body clung to her as the winds seemed to swirl nearer and nearer to the hooded and morphed figure beside her. A torrent, a tornado of screaming winds pulsated around them both, pulling into a vortex beside this figure as their right hand reached to their side. To then pull forth what seemed to be a sword of burning flame. It was glimmering a golden fire as the being slashed it forth and upwards pointed toward the daunting grand sky. The flames crinkled and cracked, snapping and loosening the heat of a great foundry as the flames dripped, rose and fell like the waves of the singing ocean. Upon the raising of this sword a great cheer sounded that came from all sides. It swept away the howling winds and crackling flames and she slammed the palms of her fair hands harder to her ears. Her fingers dug into her temples and her teeth began to rattle as a horde of unseen hungry maws cried in exhilarated jubilation. Her blue eyes widened as she willed, begged unseen powers to release her, but it was not yet to be. For, the valley began to bulge and fall away, and beneath it, as the sea of dead was swallowed into a river of molten rock, great mounds of new rock and dirt rose upwards black and charred, a true landscape of un-beauty and heat came forth. Bubbling and churning as the greatest furnace imaginable. Torrents of molten rock sprung outwards and the skies became darker than they had been prior. As though a new land was birthed from the old stage set before her but a moment prior. Great mounds rose of blackness and rock, and the rivers of molten fire grew in number as a thick sea of burning red and orange.
She was set there upon a far bank and gazed into the distance, and beheld that the robed figure was no more. Instead, standing upon the river of fire were set two new figures. Their bodies shrouded and flicked in twisting light and morphing darkness. One set against the other as they stood in opposition. Within their hands she beheld each to bare a sword of fire, much as the dark figure from before had. One among them carried great weight upon them and was sluggish, if not by their body then twhat appeared to be their soul, for they seemed weary in sense if not in posture. The other was boiling with molten wrath in mirror to the fire that erupted around them and beneath them and covered the skies in ash and crimson colors above. This one bore hatred, and fear unlike anything imaginable and gave nothing but the intensity of hatred for the other being stood against him. The worn and weary figure bore no hatred, but was lost, weary and heartbroken. The one of hatred seemed to howl, and lunge forth against the other, and her vision once more was thrown into disarray as the land around her was swept aside. Or, perhaps she was?
In that moment a great whirlpool, a torrent and tornado of power pulled her upwards into the skies, and she could not risk a breath let alone a cry. She passed through the cradle of ash and broke the top of the skies themselves and was set to face a distant star. Her eyes widened. For, she beheld what seemed to be a dead star set against the great sea of countless others. For it bore no light, yet seemed to glimmer in the fires of the other stars near. A cold thing, a hollow thing, and a beast of metal, a deathly star set in the cold of this imperceptible darkness she was shown. She could feel it then. A power pulling her back, something tugging at the corners of her perception, and it was a welcome feeling of impending release from this hellish vision.
Yet, as she was pulled away, the return of thought and time entering into her she beheld this star one last time, and saw come from behind it a burning light. Like a cloud of water, a tidal wave set against white rocks. Fire streamed in from behind this star and illuminated it, and a great bored hole set in symmetry into this ball of metal death. She knew not what she was gazing upon, but watched as this fire from behind it consumed it whole. Until at last a beam of starlight, sickly green but massive and thundering screamed through the darkness towards her, and the fire that had swept over it came upon her, and thus upon her it gave a terrible sickness of death and unnatural doom. Like a torch set high it burned brightly still, and a ghastly wail slithered through her and entered her ears sending a cold shiver rippling down her spine. For, the words entered her mind thusly.
"Towers high as mountains, they glitter and gleam. Carriage and mount bounding forth up high as beams. Stray light untouched, so far up and unseen. Vast a world, and plenty in number, yet all things are still frail, pale, as they flail and flounder. Such is the way of flesh, and of forsaken dreams."
"Galadriel!" She swung backwards from where she had been stiffly perched upon her feet. With a gasp of breath her body yearned for without her even noticing it she gave a sort of cry and yelp wrapped together into a harsh sound that shook and quivered in her exhale that followed. Her beautiful eyes, piercing and gray, remained widened and shocked in confused horror as she beheld her mirror. The water within it seeming to have boiled as wisps of steam rose into the air before her.
"Are you alright?" She turned to her right and beheld the rare sight of her husband's confused and clearly troubled face. His brow furrowed and creased as though he had aged before her eyes. Categorically impossible, but nonetheless what it seemed like.
"I...I...yes, I am."
"Are you sure?" Celeborn asked concernedly as he placed his right hand upon her shoulder, his left already braced against her back. Both casting warmth against her and soothing her wracked nerves.
"I...I don't know what I saw." She intoned earnestly, and turned her gaze piercingly upon her mirror. As though passing it so hard a glance would prompt it to reveal the questions that now fluttered within her mind.
"A vision of what has been, or what is to come?" He asked, well versed in the nature of her mirror and its often vague portends and visions of long forgotten fields and wonders. Again she knew not the answer, for it too now flowed through her mind. What horrors had this world finally been rid of, and with the Dark Lord cleaved from his tower - with the Ring cast into the fire and Mordor fallen, what then were these visions of? Was this to be what awaited the world of Men? It sent a chill through her once again, and she dared not to ponder it for too much longer. For it gave great despair, where there now needed be joy in these, the last days of the Galadhrim.
"I do not know." She again intoned. Do nothingg but causing Celeborn to remain pensive, quietly so. Until, at last his calm composure took prominence in his manner. He placed both hands upon her shoulders and pulled her forth so they were equaled in manner and sight.
"Let us then not dwell upon the unknown, my Lady." He gave a small smile, and she genuinely appreciated it, finding one crawling along her face in response.
"I came to inform you that Mithrandir has come to our borders. He shall be with us within the hour." To that her brow rose just slightly. Her mind alight then with hope and even an unspoken dash of excitement. If ever did she require another for their wisdom and knowledge it was now. None other than Gandalf the Grey...Gandalf the White.
"Then we should await his arrival. Happily." She smiled, her face beaming then, and she did her best to follow her husband's offer. For now then, she pushed such things, such foul questions and visions aside. A final glimmering image of a deathly gray star bounding with green fire came and went, and Galadriel left hand in hand, with Celeborn. In their wake the mirror heaved a few final stray wisps of smoldering steam, and went silent. It went cold.
"Are the preparations completed?" He asked with a low, but powerful voice. It trembled with power and even a hint of undulating scorn. His eyes stared from beneath his cloaking cowl and before him stood two figures. They shone and glimmered in the usual blue lights expected of holograms. One portraying an old man with delusions of righteousness and destined power. The other showing the skeletal bane of an entire galaxy.
"They are, my Lord. With Kashyyyk teetering on the brink of total war planet-side we can be assured the Republic will begin plotting another limp response!" Grievous, with growling ecstasy portended. Raising his hand and clenching metal fingers to a hardened fist.
"You agree with this assessment, Lord Tyranus?" He turned to Dooku who bowed at the hip.
"I do, my Master. The intelligence branches of the Republic firmly believe I am in the far reaches of the galaxy. Their impotent commando squadron on Kashyyyk has also caught glimpse of the good General here."
"Yes, I head as much from my sources." Palpatine cut in as Grievous nodded somewhat idly. "I hear you have caught one of their members?"
"Correct, my Lord!" Grievous quickly replied. "The Geonosian auxiliary force sent in tandem with our advance units caught a member of this 'Delta Squad.' We have been holding him for interr-"
"Kill him." Sidious intoned with a calm smirk and Grievous was silenced in an instant.
"Would it not be more prudent to keep him alive, my Master?" Dooku wondered.
"Any intelligence you require of the Republic can be attained by my sources. I will not risk our strike against the Republic capitol being revealed if they should foolishly attempt a rescue operation for this one commando. He is chaff upon our body, and I would see him dead." Palpatine ordered calmly, but with clear vibration undulating in his croaking voice to give firm command. Dooku, in an instant, caught that this was not a debate, and Grievous clearly didn't mind.
"It would be a pleasure to order his death." The General gave a low robotic cackle which turned to a single harsh cough that was subsequently ignored.
"What of our operation on Nelvaan?" Dooku wondered to which Palpatine flicked one hand dismissively.
"Nothing more than a false lure for the returned heroes of the Republic. Let the Jedi Council believe General Grievous is on that useless planet. Republic intelligence will believe he's on Kashyyyk. Divide and conquer, my apprentice." Palpatine seemed to tutor his apprentice. To which Dooku again bowed, of course. The two men already knew this, but it was more for their pawn's benefit than their own.
"General," Palpatine began again. "I will have you begin final preparations for the assault. My agents shall send the final hyperspace jump coordinates required for the rearguard entry into the Core Worlds. I needn't remind you how important this operation is, do I gentleman?"
"No, my Master."
"Not in the least, my Lord!" Both responded. Palpatine smirked toothily beneath his cowl, and snorted a chuckle laced with some unknown irony.
"Be sure you don't kill the Supreme Chancellor, General. Should he die, and our operation be compromised, I will have your head." Grievous recoiled, but only slightly. Before he regained his compsure. Being sure to bow at his bony metal hip.
"Of course, Lord Sidious. I shall not disappoint."
"Then you have my full confidence, my friend." Palpatine expertly returned to a far more agreeable tone, political in manner and form. He gave a slight wave of his left hand that shuffled the dark cloak he wore. "You may take leave, General. I expect your final report by tomorrow morning, Coruscant time." Grievous said nothing but returned to a final bow before his image shook and shimmered until it disappeared entirely. Dooku's image stared for a moment where Grievous had been before returning his full regal attention towards his master.
"I would hope that you've made it so that he would suspect nothing, my apprentice."
"Grievous is a blunt object, my Master. A tool, useful and necessary when the need calls for him. Despite it still being housed within that shell atop his neck, he hasn't much of a brain to begin with. Brutes are brutes, pawns is but another name for them." Dooku even gave a most undignified shrug, very uncommon, Palpatine noted. It forced him to raise his brow. Such informality was usually a sign of disquiet within his 'apprentice.' If one could call this ailing and grayed husk of a one time Jedi such. Sidious thought to press him on it for a moment, but ultimately chose not to. Alas, their partnership was soon to be at an end.
"Have all preparations on your end been completed, Tyranus?" Palpatine addressed him. Allowing for Dooku to believe himself made equal with use of his Sith monkier once again. It indeed perked him up and that narcissism showed to be more powerful than his hidden doubtful thoughts.
"They have been, my Master. I still do not firmly believe Skywalker can be trusted to fulfill the task needed of you, however." Sidious knew this song and dance, and honestly grew wearier of it by the day. Old images of that fool Qui-Gon Jinn entered into his mind, and he stifled the lowest of instinctive groans that wished to loose.
"Ever pandering to an ideal that shall never be, Lord Tyranus." He rebuked, though chose to make it sound placating and understanding, adding a sad sigh, a friendly and understanding sigh.
"I'm afraid dear Obi-Wan Kenobi is far beyond our reach. Perhaps if we could elicit some greater torment upon him? The death of all the Jedi, the fall of his apprentice into darkness, the decimation of the Republic and Order he clings to. Maybe then he could be weak enough to fall? However, that road is far and long. We shall see if maybe we can attain for ourselves your old apprentice's favorite. Until then, however, we must stick to the plan. With a power like Skywalker as part of our New Order, we can sweep aside all things that have held us back, my old friend." Another heavy silence came about, Dooku pensive as ever. Before the old fool gave a low sigh and steadied his shoulders as that familiar dark glimmer entered into his eyes.
"I understand, my Master. If he will not turn, he will die."
"You've learned well, Tyranus." Palpatine chuckled, Dooku bowed, and without further need of order or command the two ended their holocall, and an unfathomable many layers of encryption finally ceased transmitting from Coruscant.
With another sigh, both of contentment and self admittedly a bit of daily weariness, Palpatine leaned his head back and allowed the cloak he wore to fall from atop his full head of thinning white hairs. He felt weary and now he also felt hot, despite the ever present and fully running 24/7 conditioning the Senate buildings, no matter which one, ran. He grumbled a low sound and quickly pulled the dark cloak he used for such calls with Dooku or Grievous from atop himself set over his Chancellor robes. A slight irritation, but an irritation all the same.
Turning where he stood and away from the holoterminal, he used but the faintest flick of the Force, pointing his right index finger towards the wall. A button set there was pushed inwards and a whir sounded through the room as the blinds along the many windows leading out over the vastness of Coruscant opened and allowed for a more approachable and ambient amount of light to filter in.
"Much better." Palpatine intoned with another earnest sigh as he opened a nearby wall mounted wardrobe, secured, locked and believed to be unapproachable. That was if anyone could find it, as it seemed to be but another wall panel set among many along the finely maintained and built walls of the Chancellor's office. Either way it made him smile. Smirk even in his self-absorbed grandeur. Every time Masters Yoda or Windu sauntered through in all their vaunted wisdom in fact. Little did they know what was scattered about this room. Statues filled with lightsabers, wardrobes of easily explainable dark clothing, he even had a holocron, dug from depths and statues of old, hidden around here and there. After all, he thought with another predatory smirk, he had to do something when he was left sitting in this one office all day!
Truly just another day in the life of the galaxy's most powerful being. The leader of two sides of a war that ripped the galaxy asunder. Little did anyone know. Perhaps only one being in all the galaxy understood the depths of his power, and how his hands were dug like claws into every fabric of society and life. That old fool, he too would be dealt with soon enough. A loose end whose purpose had been utterly spent. Really it wasn't worth thinking about much further. More important than all that, however?
"Dar, do be so kind and fetch me today's servings list from the kitchen." More important was his lunch.
"I will get right on it, your Excellency. However, I am loathe to report you have a visitor. He is most adamant he sees you before your recess." The Rodian, speaking in his ugly native tongue, spoke back over his comm unit as Palpatine's finger remained set against the small communication button. His brow rose, before twisting instantly into a scowl and he hushed another sigh before responding.
"Whom is it?"
"Director Isard, Chancellor. He claims to have a matter of great importance to speak with you about." Palpatine knew not to bother asking what that may be. Isard wasn't foolish enough to give specifics on anything even remotely important to the poor little 'Executive Administrator.'
"Send him in then Dar, my thanks." He forced the pleasantry from his mouth and rounded quickly around his desk. Taking his seat in preparation of one among many of his excellently placed cronies for what was to come. Palpatine idly rubbed his robes and sat back in preparation, immaculate and ready for whatever it was the Director found to be so important.
Within a matter of moments the office doorway opened with a slide and hiss as the metal opened and moved into the wall on either side. The Director strode in. With his hair peppered by his ever present white streak against ebony strands. Today his brow was noticeably creased with a sheen of sweat obviously having been coated upon his face. Seeming to have been unsuccessfully wiped away, and recently. Honestly it both amused and intrigued Palpatine. Though Armand was something of a hypochondriac, it was always rebuked by his mind and manner of dealing with crisis. To see him so...off was quite unusual.
"Ah, Director Isard, so wonderful to see you again! And so soon after our last meeting." Palpatine rose as he greeted the man. His clear warning sent out so subtly he was afraid Isard wouldn't catch it. Failure in and of itself was not the end all be all per say. There were, however, boundaries and limits to what Palpatine was willing to tolerate.
As expected, Armand paused where he stood and shot a glance over his shoulder as the door closed. He was shaken, clearly so. And with Palpatine's greeting, his neurosis only seemed to then worsen. Clearing his throat and idly dusting his suit of imaginary dust, Armand strode forward with four mighty and long steps. Coming to a stop directly before Palpatine's desk.
"Ye...yes, your Excellency. I have a matter of some importance in need of your guidance."
"So very formal, Director." Palpatine chuckled almost mockingly so. He motioned for the Director to take a seat opposite him. Armand eyed the chair thoughtfully, almost seeming worried to take it. Eventually quietly relenting, however, and folded his hands before himself atop the Chancellor's desk. Rather bold and improper, Palpatine noted with a barely noticeable scowl, but he said nothing and took his own seat opposite the Director.
"I do hope you don't intend on leaving me in suspense for too much longer, Armand." Palpatine again chuckled, feigning his usual calm and easygoing elder facade.
"No, of course I don't wish to hold you up, your Excellency. I'm merely struggling to find the right way to explain this."
"How about you simply come out with it, Director?" Palpatine propositioned with the faintest of exacerbated sighs loosening form his mouth. Armand for his part sighed and nodded.
"Your 'guest' seems to have woken up. Approximately one standard hour ago, your Excellency." To that Palpatine hummed happily and leaned into his seat.
"Indeed? What wonderful timing! Quite fortuitous, since I shall be heading into recess soon. A conversation must be had with them." Palpatine carried on somewhat excitedly. His mind flashing back to that 'thing' inside of that Dark Jedi pawn of Dooku's. It having since returned its form to the woman's. How it dragged its feet onto his shuttle over two and a half weeks ago, before it simply fell onto its knees, stiffly held its back upwards vertically, closed its eyes and seemed to enter into the deepest Force induced meditation or slumber Palpatine had ever seen. Her pulse was clear, her presence in the Force, mingled with that unknown, and imperceptible being was present. Nothing they did awoke them, it...her? Either way, Palpatine' guards had dragged her body, stiff as a metal plank out from the shuttle and found a nice dank building in the old Works Sector of Coruscant to allow it to rest.
However, all the memory and all the thought was quickly made moot, an idle examination of the past. As Palpatine then put together Armand's mood and demeanor. That brought an all too visible scowl to the Chancellor's face. One that caused Armand to recoil away from the table.
"What has happened, Director?" The Chancellor's voice bereft of merriment or false political propriety wondered.
"Your Excellency, I...we...I..." Armand paused, collected and corrected himself.
"I received a call from the warehouse we were keeping your 'guest.' From our man watching her along with the small security detail. This man of mine, trustworthy, low level but committed, informed me that her eyes had opened. She was awake. I wished to be sure this warranted informing you, so I told him to standby for my arrival for a quick in-person inspection. Only..."
"Only what?" Palpatine prodded forcefully.
"When I had arrived, everyone, my agent, your security team, they were all...well they weren't alive." Armand forced from himself. Palpatine for a second wondered why that was so difficult a thing to say? Then again, as he took a moment to pause and recall the reports of what the base looked like back on Korriban. Men who didn't know what had happened, Isard's men, trustworthy and observant of the word 'discretion' had taken a long look. Only finding that scientific dolt Zalliste still alive within, awed and silent for once in his pompous life. Why he was spared Palpatine didn't know, but that was hardly important now.
The Supreme Chancellor allowed for a clear sigh to pass from his nose as he leaned back into his seat. His hands came up before himself and his fingertips leaned upon one another, from one finger to the opposing. His eyes dimmed. Though they still held onto that now false blue natural color turned towards his immaculately clean ceiling above. Without knowing he was doing so his index fingers began pushing off one another, bouncing back and forth as he fell into his own thoughts for a moment.
He couldn't let her...it walk around on Coruscant freely! The Jedi would undoubtedly hear news of some unknown being with immense power working its way through the capitol of the Republic. Be it from the top and upper levels. Or, the far levels below from level 10, 800, 1313 and however further down into the stinking reaches of this miserable world it chose to wander! Again he felt a clear scowl form along his face turning into a twisted sneer.
He could not hope to conduct an investigation himself! The Supreme Chancellor off walking the streets of Coruscant looking for one woman among a trillion living beings. The word 'absurd' came to mind As well, the Force was no ally here, even with one such as he, or one such as it. Everything was muddled here. Hidden beneath a tapestry of emotions, needs, cravings and desires. Such were the manners of normal creatures.
His eyes dropped then, scowling and thinned into angered cracks that peered out towards the Director who did an admirable job not showing how fearful his presence in the Force showed him to be.
"I have a schedule to keep, Director. Now I would expect someone of your knowledge and awareness to understand that such failures at best deserve a reprimand."
"Yes, of course...your Excellency." Armand groveled, though what for Palpatine wasn't sure. Probably his miserable life.
"As such I expect your best and most discreet personnel to find our most esteemed of guests." Palpatine ordered and Armand bowed his head.
"Of course, your Excellency! I have my men on it as we speak. We've utilized Coruscant's vast security network to our advantage. We should...we will have something soon!" Palpatine nodded approvingly.
"Very good, Director. Now-" Palpatine began standing up and adjusting his robes along his shoulders. This prompted Isard to rise in response. Nervously of course. His own hands curling and uncurling into anxious fists as he did.
"I have matters to attend to. A schedule to uphold, of course." He reiterated with a false and nerve wracking smile upon his aged features. He extended his hand and Armand eyed it cautiously. However, what could the man do but take it. So, he did.
"Do not keep me waiting." Palpatine offered, his smile broadening unnervingly. Armand again dipped his head deeply as he felt Palpatine's cool and wrinkled hand let his own fall. With not even a goodbye, farewell, or given leave Palpatine strode around his desk and made his way towards the exit of his office. Armand watched him do so and as the doorway slid open revealing a host of crimson guards, the Chancellor left him there alone.
Silently Armand stood there for a moment, awkward and unsure. Before after another moment of imperceptible time passed, the Intelligence Director, found his hand snapping to his waist where he yanked his personal comlink toward his mouth.
"This is Director Isard, connect me with Secretary Vandron of the Internal Security Bureau, immediately!"
A mass of bodies moved. Yet, it pulled in all directions. Thousands upon thousands of them, and the reek of their natures and the vibrations of their Ea swelled around. It was all consuming and omnipresent here upon the unknown. Golden hair, a mess of it fell to the shoulders and eyes. Those eyes which gleamed an unnatural glow. Though perhaps unnoticed in this sea of sound and movement. They, nonetheless, pierced the veil of movement and mass. Those same eyes turned upward and beheld the glimmer of high rising towers. Grander and beyond measure even against the memory of the Black Tower. How was that even possible? He wondered alone within the vastness of inner thought.
His left shoulder slammed into that of a being walking against him.
"Watch it!" The being seethed sending him an annoyed glare that quickly again turned vacant as it turned away from him and continued on walking. Fallen from their head had been two tendrils, like the tentacles of one of the sea creatures hidden beneath the ocean waves. Men of the West called them octopus. Yet, this being had the face of a Man, or an Elf, cones were along its head where the ears should've been, and its skin had been a pale green.
Yet, as he stopped for a second to behold the many uncountable streams of living creatures around him, he came to a conclusion. That, the being he had just took note of, who had dared hit their body against the one he inhabited; that it had not been the strangest or foulest thing he had laid eyes upon.
Choosing to ignore the shove from the odd green creature, he kept on moving. He kept on looking around himself. Some being with a massive body, gray leathery skin like that of an Olog was conversing with a rather small creature that was aloft within the air upon wings like a bat. Its face ugly and carrying upon it a snout like an Oliphant.
Looking up once again with head swimming in thought and wonder he beheld lights. Beyond count, beyond measure and beyond wonder. Light upon light dotted the spires and the walkways. Themselves an ugly thing of thudding metal that was loud, but seemingly unheard by the swarming masses.
These lights shone brighter than any star, but their colors were mashed and grainy. As though storms of sands from Far Harad were crashing along these lights. Beams of imperceptible lights and breaks within the lights shown through. Images of faces, ugly and many like the beings around him flashed.
He turned his head right and another light shown. In the shape of a vaguely feminine form. It was alight in a magenta color and hummed with some power as the feminine shape, seeming like that being he had shoved against though feminine in form, seemed to undulate. Their leg moving outwards, then inwards, back outwards. A doorway was seen and before it stood what looked to be a massive lizard upon two legs. Like that of Men. Its eyes were reptilian and beady in yellow a manner. Reminding him of that ghostly General that had fallen upon his lands many a day past now.
Strange sounds - a beat and rhythm accompanying it met his ears from within this place. He imagined it was music, but it was unlike any music he had ever heard before. In fact it was ugly, ugly like Orc music. Yet, even the Orcs would weave their voices within the music and tell a tale, no matter how vulgar and vile. Though muted behind metal walls he heard nothing but loudness. Sound for sounds sake, chaotic and messy. It made the skin he wore crawl in disdain. He sneered as he turned away and kept on moving.
His eyes traveled from left to right, his legs carrying themselves forward along this metal pathway set down high into the skies of this world of noise. Everything was noise! His mind was alight in noise and thought. Feeling and emotion. He did not know what he was feeling, nor comprehending. He had not for days since his coming here. His spirit could see much, feel much, and understand much more. Yet, this body he wore could see vibrations. Perceive an incomprehensible web of strings that flowed between one mortal soul to another. Each one blooming as they passed another.
Their thoughts and wants entered into his mind so easily. He knew many of the vices that were kept within the hearts of those he passed by without so much as a glance. Sex, drink, debts and wants of variance. He knew them all. Their thoughts laid bare to him as though a book upon his table. Some were muddled, and others fully open to him, and it was unusual. Strange to say the very least indeed.
Many things that came into his mind he did not yet fully comprehend. Faces of beings unknown to him. Pink, and orange, eyes black, and some with they bodies of massive insects. Indeed, some were so horrendous they put the foulest of Uruk and Orc to shame. A newfound appreciation for those miserable creatures came to him, but never would the Lord admit so.
The smells of this place were a mix of unknowns. Most of it rot and foul. For, in his leave of that pathetic cage this 'Palpatine' had placed the body he wore into, he chose to become aimless. Many metal terraces, and walkways descended into more and more. The further down he went the uglier the people became, and fouler the smell. A fell place full of emotion and pain. A mixture of want, desire, and merriment. Though that was more often found near the tombs and dens laden in vice. Things here were not of goodwill or the happiness of simplicity. Indeed it seemed the more grand and the more unusual the harder it became to grasp upon happiness. Such was the way of mortals. Another creased frown crossed this face he wore, and eyes went alight in fire. Burning black slits at the heart of these eyes. Such like that of these felled lizard men. These eyes were the eyes that bore annoyance within them. Chaos ruled here, and so it seemed to take everything around it in consumption. The ultimate end of civilization, the greatest sin committed against the works of the Ainur, and even Eru beyond!
"I'm not interrupting am I?" His feet came to a stop as the voice entered into his mind. His eyes narrowed further and a release of air flowed forth from the worn nostrils.
"You have finally awoken, witch." He spoke aloud, and in the chaos of mortal movement none heard him, or cared. In fact, even as he came to a total stop in the middle of what he knew to be a walkway the bodies around him merely moved around him. None caring that he stopped. None paying him mind or giving heed. No one to bother and none to care. What was one more body talking aloud to itself among the billions of souls that ached in madness here?
"Yes I'm awake, Dark Lord. How is my body by the way?" She asked, seemingly without care in the voice that portrayed itself in the depths of his mind, but it was not something that could be hidden. He smelled the wrath broiling within.
"This body is acceptable, for now." The face he wore glanced right, and the walkway that lay before him there. He took another aimless stride toward it.
"Acceptable?! You miserable karking invader! I'll tear you apart from the inside and kill you! Get out of my body!" Her voice howled like the most maddened of wargs run through upon a steel pike. Left forgotten upon an evacuated field of battle.
"That would be unwise, and unlikely. Your spirit is strong, Vicella Mochadrean. Yet, it is no match for my own, even when weakened as mine is." It pained him to say it aloud, especially in so feminine a voice, but it was truth, and she would know this whether he willed it or not.
"Do NOT call me that!"
"It is your name, witch." He honored her request...in a way.
"It is not my name!" She hissed with such venom it put the Nazgûl and their fell voices to shame.
"When we accept the dark side of the Force, we go beyond what we were, who we were! Vicella was weak, I am Vica! I will always be Vica!"
"Perhaps," Sauron began. "Yet, if I recall that is the way of the Sith. You have yet to be made one. Am I not correct?" He asked, but truly it was more a statement. Silence met him then as he trekked her legs down this walkway. A slum it seemed, or a metallic variant of one. Grime lathered the street and walls were covered in odd artistic markings of faces and words unknown to him. Bodies lay in the corners, shrunken away smelling of decay though very much living. More unsavory shops and markets lined the streets, but all of these had some form of foul creature standing guard outside.
"How do you know that?" She asked lowly within their shared mind.
"Your thoughts are open to me, witch. Once we shared this form of yours I knew everything you know. In a way." Sauron offered. "I shall see all you see, feel all you feel, and wield all you wield. In my coming to this world I rested this broken body. In that time I chose to see this 'galaxy' through your mind. I have learned much, but still have more to understand." Such a strange word 'galaxy.' Even now its meaning and truth was hard a concept to fully understand. He was learning though.
"Who gave you the right to look into my mind?" She asked lowly still. A flare of her tone seeping with anger barely contained or controlled.
"You did, of course." Sauron responded matter-of-factly. "When I offered unto you this ring." He held up her left hand that bore the gold band that radiated with a dim glow even now. He tilted the slender feminine and fair hand left and onto its underside.
"You took it then, and wondered not what such an action would entail. In doing so you offered to me this body, and the mind that is held within it." He finished, letting the arm drop back at his side. Again he was met by a pregnant silence as he turned left. Ignoring more poor wretches as he did so. Some looking upon him in interest, before casting eyes away or down. Some beings walked to and fro around him but all the same ignored this body.
"Had I known I would not ha-"
"Of course not." He cut her off.
"It was my intent that you did not know."
"What led you to give me this thing then?! Would it not have served you better to give it to one of those wraiths of yours?!"
"You desired power, and I gave it to you." Sauron began earnestly.
"My servants, my lieutenants had not the power of spirit to contain my own. You, however, you provided an interesting opportunity." He went on idly casting a glance right and looking upon what seemed to be a man barring orange skin and two horns jutting forth from atop his head. The creature eyed him back as Sauron passed by. It...they didn't say or do anything all the same.
"Your powers were not, and still are not fully known to me." Sauron emphasized by bringing her hand up to his eyes and curling the fingers.
"I saw in you a chance to test your powers for my own. Indeed I thought it possible to perhaps sally forth into your world from my own once my war was won, through you. Yet, when it came to it, and my spirit was torn asunder, burned in the fires of Orodruin and within Barad-dûr I knew my power was spent. That was until I remembered this ring. I have since given unto it the name Mírëlanya. 'The binding jewel.' For, it was unique among all the bands I have created or aided in the creation of." Sauron expounded on and on. "Your spirit is coiled by this power, this 'Force.' As such I too can be bound behind this coil. As I burned away falling into the wandering anger that surely would have befallen me, I found your body. Battered, broken, all but dead upon the slopes of Mount Doom. Thus I fell upon, and took hold within." He explained as the body he wore was again shoved by a passing being. This one an actual man, who grunted angrily but passed Sauron without a word.
"Hmm." She hummed internally and caused the Dark Lord to tilt his head over shoulder. As though looking to her. Though she was within his mind...their mind.
"So, your spirit is weakened." She chuckled darkly. "I wonder just how hard it would be to take control and pull that damn ring from my hand. Or, to cut it off if need be. Besides," She again chuckled with a sense of dominance Sauron found amusing but, quaint. "I could always have a new one made and attached to my hand, 'Dark Lord.'"
She mocked his waned power, so Sauron perceived. She chuckled in sush a fashion, dominant and so self assured that it would send shivers through her enemies he was sure. Or at least through lesser men. However, Sauron was no mere man. He allowed silence to pass from him to her before he came to a sudden stop near a dank and foul smelling alley along the walkway. The Dark Lord tilted her head up toward the sky. Noting the waning daylight of this metallic planet he smirked a broad, and some would even say dark smirk. As his eyes, alight in fire and unnatural human pupils, lit further.
"Very well then, witch. Take back your body if you so desire." He lifted and spread her arms apart and with no fanfare, no noise and no great act her head snapped back. She sucked in a deep inhale of breath and gagged immediately, as though she had forgotten how to simply breathe. She stumbled forward somewhat and caught herself along the grime laden wall beside her as her messy and worn golden hair fell about her head. She opened her eyes, and they had returned unknown to her to their natural browned hue and normal manner.
Glancing left where she leaned her body to the wall, Vica took into account her hand steadying herself along it. Shaking, much the same as her legs did. As her glare met her face in the faded dirty reflection this building cast back at her in the dim and dull light from the far star above. More importantly though, she looked to that cursed golden band upon her ring finger and sneered, but it soon there turned to a toothy victorious smile. Only to then again fade some as her eyes narrowed.
"What..." She again shook her head, as her muscles seemed...so aching and dulled. How though?! He had been using her body without cost or concern! She snarled aloud, like a beast. Her doing so caused a Weequay passing behind her to jump back. Probably thinking her to be just one of many madwomen roaming the poor underbelly of Coruscant. He was quick to step away from her and carry on his way.
"What game are you playing here, 'my Lord?' I'll pull this...damnable thing from my hand I swear upon the Force I will!" Vica hissed to the nothingness around herself.
"Then do so, witch." His voice boomed bereft of her feminine cadence. Deep, baritone and full of age, and masculine dominance. As she had heard it within the tower...how long ago had that been now?! No matter! She shook the thought away and her right hand flew to her left.
"I shall!" She warned...threatened! Her index finger, her thumb and the middle of her right hand clasped onto the ring and she felt her heart thud in anticipation to pull it off.
"A pity that you should seek to die so soon after being saved from the Void." Sauron intoned and she paused. Her eyes narrowed and she looked downwards. Thoughts running through her, questions now. Too damn many to count.
"What are you talking about?" She growled.
"This ring, is a binding one. Based upon those made by Celebrimbor, but greater. It binds us together, and so we have fed upon one another. My spirit is worn, and lacking in its potency. Yet, I am Maiar still, and while I feed upon this power of yours and your people, this Force, you in kind feed upon my spirit."
"I feed on no spirits!" She hissed in lowered a whisper as men passed her by along the street.
"Your body only moves because I allow it." The Dark Lord so easily and simply stated. "Have you not given thought as to why you moved within that ship as you lay in a cold casket? Do you not wonder how you moved upon the field of Gorgoroth? It is because I bound your spirit to me, in a way you have become my tenth wraith, but greater." Vica felt her face soften as the realization hit her, and the memories hit her too. Upon that mountain as she fought Skywalker, alone his memory made her flush in rage, but more-so she remembered how he cut into her. How she howled that familiar ghostly wail in pain, but had not fallen.
"Wraith?" She intoned and again looked to the building for her reflection. In the reflection she saw no real difference in her appearance. She would even daresay she looked healthier than she had those final miserable days on that forsaken planet.
"You died, witch. You've been dead since the fields of Rohan. When this 'Jedi' Skywalker thrust that sword of fire into your chest." Once again the memories danced before her. The wanton assault upon Rohan with her armies. How she dueled Skywalker. Her body losing control, Sauron taking control, and then...that lightsaber forcing its way through her flesh, tearing at her body. The smirk she cast looking upon his glowing form of light. Then the darkness that fell.
Her right hand retracted from her left and her palm rested against her tunic covered chest. It clasped in along her flesh running along the center of her breasts and searching for the wound that should've been there. Yet, she found nothing, but soft flesh.
"I...died..."
"Yes, and you've now been made unending. So long as this ring remain upon your finger. Until the time comes when I have regained my strength. When that time comes your body will be released from my presence and power. In that time I shall heal your wounds."
"You can't now? Or won't?" She seethed coolly.
"Have you heard nothing?!" His retort boomed in her skull and she winced at the 'sound.'
"When my Ring was destroyed my spirit was set aflame! I only retain consciousness and power because of the one now upon your hand. However, in your slumber between your battle upon Mount Doom and now I have searched your mind. I've seen the powers held of those who wield this Force. I have since my coming to your body pulled much into my being. As I said, I have fed on this Force."
"Any signs of improvement?" She asked coldly but genuine in her wonder.
"The faintest, perhaps." Came equally cool his reply. "With time I shall continue to feed upon this Force, and once more regain all my power. No mere portion of it, but rather, all of it! I shall once more take form and build for myself my strength. It is by way of you, and your body, and of this Force that I shall endeavor to rebuild as I have time and again before. To return to Arda and fall upon the world of Men like a storm of hail. Yet, greater still shall I take into my hands this entire galaxy and bring forth to it my vision. Peace where there is war, security where there is fear, and order where lay chaos."
"And what exactly do I get out of this?" Vica numbly demanded.
"Why should I share my body with someone so power hungry as you, and gain nothing out of it? I should pull this ring from my hand and kill myself. Laughing as I do! Listening in my last waking moments as you go screaming into nothingness!" Vica threatened through grit teeth. Voice a mix of rage and insanity.
"I have given you the gift of freedom from death and still you desire more?"
"You've 'gifted' me freedom from death until you leave my body, Sauron." She reminded him with more intense a pronunciation on his name.
"I promised you a healed body and life anew. Once I have vacated your body, witch." To that she sneered wordlessly.
"I have seen your mind. Every memory, every thought, and your every desire. I have seen your life flash in an instant. Decades worth of knowledge and experience gifted to me in but a second. I know your wants, I know your pains and hatred. I feel your cravings for more power, witch. It is because of such that I promise this; you shall be rewarded for aiding me in my designs with a body healed anew. It will be then that you shall acquire greater knowledge of this Force alongside me. It is only then that you will slay he who fills you with unquenchable rage." Skywalker flashed in her mind, standing over her time and time again and she felt her whole body shiver in wrath.
"I promise you power, I promise you wealth and desires fulfilled. I promise you all these things and more. I promise you the mantle of Sith Lord if you so desire it. I promise to you all that you can see and all that is unseen. Passed the veil of shadow that blankets this world and the stars that shine there. In this we shall be united in our designs, and power can be shared. Given that it is power both desire for different a manner and reason."
"Who says I don't want all the power? Who says I want to share anything?" She asked hotly. A small silence followed then before the booming voice within her mind spoke.
"Perhaps you do, witch. Yet, you are incapable of acquiring it. Your body is broken, and I alone can save you. Your mind is shattered, and held together by me." She snarled again, a madwoman crazed.
"Don't play games with me!" Her voice now echoed through the alleyway and many around her cast annoyed or disturbed gawks and glares before averting or ignoring her once more. Her eyes flared, darting between the watching masses. As they once more glinted in the sickly yellow and presence that was the power of the dark side. The Force flowing into her, burning hot and dark. Cascading through and over what was essentially a walking corpse.
"You...you entered my mind, you...you made me-"
"I made you do nothing." The Dark Lord countered immediately, perhaps sensing or already knowing her next words.
"Sithspit!" She cursed in hot terse reposte.
"I know who and what I am, but when I came to you? I lost my senses, I lost my...my control!"
"Is that what you call your current behavior? 'Self control?'" Sauron seemed to mock. Again, Vica felt her eyes glare back and forth around her surroundings. A cough gasped from her burning lungs, and she sucked in another breath as she felt rage claw up her spine. She slammed one boot down after another. Her mind and body seeming to aimlessly carry herself further down the alleyway.
"Kark yourself, 'Dark Lord!'" She hissed under her breath. Staggering as she sucked air into herself with gulps. "You can't even conquer a world of sword wielding peasant horsemen, and-" She was silenced and gagged more coughs. Her lungs burning and throat constricting in pain.
"To cast such a light onto me when you could not thwart peasants, horsemen, and halflings. Nor, could you stop your own enemies. Men clad in white, and beastly mannish creatures of strange hues, nor the Jedi Skywalker." He countered and Vica felt her labored breaths grow only more labored. Clearly her body was not ready for her to take control. She allowed herself to fall into a lean against a cold but grime laden spire wall to her right. She cast an idle glare towards two aqualish passing her by in the opposite direction, they paid her no further mind in kind.
"Nonetheless, witch, I did not turn you into anything you were not already. Perhaps it may be fair to say I merely made you more of what you already are." Her glare dimmed some, and she did not bother to respond or rebuke him. Only sneering a little more deeply as her left hand cradled her stomach as some random unknown pain bubbled there.
"You came to me, within the tower of Barad-dûr, and sought knowledge, power. You went there, where I commanded of you to go. Into Orthanc to behold that fool Saruman. Power was what you desired, and all throughout your stay upon My world I gave it to you. Merely in my own way." Vica chose to remain silent. Mind full of thoughts, his words digging into her pysche. Mind flashing over images of her deeds upon that planet. Her failures, and desires. Her lips pursed harder together, and she felt utterly mortified. Embarrassment and revulsion coupled with a burning sense of humiliation. Vica did not acknowledge them, but she could not stop them, she felt them. Boiling hot droplets of water formed within her eyes, and truly she didn't know why, or where they came from. Only that she hated herself all the more for being incapable of stopping them.
"Defeat can be a powerful ally." She heard his voice speak again. A small part of her mortified that this being undoubtedly knew...saw...felt what was happening to her. Yet, she remained unspoken, desiring it not to mention those tears.
"I have walked upon Arda for uncountable years. A time before time was given name or mind. Mortal minds came and only then gave time any significance. Perhaps, it was even in those times before the count of mortal years, that Eru loosed into the world further of my kin that shaped this far flung universe?" Truly she did not fully grasp what he was talking about, but as a stream of salty water streaked down her left cheek, she remained listening.
"In those years and those that followed I tasted defeat many times. Such as you have time and again. Yet, I remain, and now so do you. In this venture thus, we are bound." She perceived it then. A sound like a whirling of winds, or a single great gust. Though, Vica could see no one else noticed what she had. She cocked her head left and like a pillar of white light; as the purest heart of a flame, a being appeared. Alone seen in her mind's eye. No features were discernible, but the outline of a mannish figure.
"Perhaps together we can achieve what apart we could not? Witch of the stars." The form of light spoke. Sauron spoke. "What is the significance of the word 'sharing' when power itself begets more power?" She allowed herself to heave in a breath, her lips shakily inhaled and elicited further drowning self hatred.
"You mean 'cross that bridge when we get there then?'" She asked, and the figure she alone perceived in her mind seemed to tilt its illuminated head.
"An apt term. However, I offer you a chance to seize what it is you desire. Alongside what it is I yearn for. That being, separate of one another, yet similar. One body, two minds, bound in this shared purpose." The Dark Lord, wrapped in...made of fire, a whipping thing of winds and power extended a burning hand towards her. Palm facing the sky as the flaming fingers beckoned, and warmed her. Or, so she maybe imagined them to? That tingling desire that want that throbbed in her heart howled in reply. The dark side swirled, and the Force bristled. Burning with her rage as every fiber of her being knew that same familiar want. Of what, where, who, and when? None of these were known. It was a desire, a passion to be, and to take from this universe what she was owed.
So, with eyes stinging with unmentioned tears she sucked in another nasally breath and extended her right hand. To the outside observing eye she'd appear a madwoman. her hand reaching out to nothing and gripping it with shaky grasp. Within her mind, and in reality her hand fell onto a burning thing of purest fire, and she felt no burn no consuming pain. Merely the warmth of power. Her eyes turned upwards and looked to where she imagined his would be.
"Fine." Her head snapped back and her body pushed itself into the spire. A rush of unnoticeable energy passed through the body. The eyes of this body opened. The head fell back down and stared forwards. Looking toward the blank and equally grime laden wall opposite. They burned once again with the flaming power that was Sauron's essence. As he once more assumed control of their shared body.
Once more in control, and this time with a willing subject Sauron pulled his shared mortal hands up and stretched the fingers. Twisting them, furling and unfurling in and out of fists. He turned around right and looked down to the ground of this alleyway. Along the ground was laid garbage and more grime. A small puddle of dirtied liquid, seeming to be water stared back at him as he appraised himself within this dirtied poorly lit pool.
"I look a mess." Vica noted from her front seat viewing position within her own mind. A visage of a woman, her as she was upon that first day they met now appeared in his view, hidden from all others as a specter that floated around him at her own will.
Sauron had to agree that her body seemed outwardly seemed worn and ragged. Untouched since he had accompanied that Palpatine to this world. The blonde hair was a tattered, torn and burnt mess of follicles and clumps. Skin tone was withered and battered. Scars and scrapes still showed through, and truly the Dark lord had paid the body no mind as he had delved into thought and memory of this star born witch. Though, now that compact was made he did take the time to see what a disheveled and battered mess he...they appeared.
Through creased and cracked lips the Dark Lord gave a single scoffing sigh. "An easy fix." Sauron intoned.
He sensed rather than saw her cock a brow within their mind's eye. A small ripple of movement, so quick and wave like in manner one could not be blamed for missing it, passed between them. Her body shifted. Skin seemed to twist and follow this wave of energy as it traveled from her feet to her head. Color and tone, though naturally pale returned to her. Her face livened in color and life, creases faded and vanished, her hair was seemingly sent into the nothingness only to return, lush and lively as it had been when she first fell upon Arda so many months ago. Her lips became pronounced again and lush with renewed life and beauty. Sauron brought her hand upwards and noted her cracked, and misshapen nails as they too returned to a similar length and healthy hue. No more did she seem a dirty madwoman, but a human full of life and youth. All while not a soul had borne witness to what was nothing less than a miracle in mortal mind.
"Is this perchance, more acceptable?" Sauron intoned. His words flowing with her voice and an unusual calm cadence.
"Wha...h...how did you do that?!" She demanded of him. Sauron ran her right hand along her left cheek and judged the renewed and more lively appearance for himself within the reflecting waters. Whether she would've liked to know this or not, the witch very greatly resembled a woman of Rohan. At least in the eyes of the Dark Lord.
"My powers have already begun to return to me." He finally answered. "As a Maia I have always been gifted as are my kin, to make of our physical bodies what we desire. Alas, I was restricted...sometime ago." Through her body, his eyes narrowed and an ancient memory flooded back to him as power unknown to all but the ainur swept across Arda and sank an entire island in its wake. Ripping spirit from fair body and form. A father's rebuttal and reprimand.
Sauron shoved the thought aside, unwilling to let it leak into her active mind. He let the hand fall from their face and peered numbly down at the open feminine palm.
"With your body" He continued. "and, your access to this Force; along with my spirit within, I can morph your form into that which I or you desire. So, long as it is within the bounds of your mortal coil. As far as I have made test of, witch." He did not bother to cease calling her the term, and he again sensed more than actually saw her projected form roll her eyes. Only to be quickly replaced by that familiar cocky mortal smirk of hers.
"Now that...that is a neat little trick! I've been thinking about a little makeover anyways!" She cackled, as though her emotional turmoil that burdened her but moments ago had never occurred. Such was the chaotic nature of mortal creatures.
"First though-" She cut herself off from the internal cackle she was sharing with herself.
"I'd like to know everything you now know about Chancellor Palpatine. Or, I guess the now known Darth Sidious." She spoke with a mixture of admiration and deep rage that boiled just beneath the surface. Sauron guessed as to why the revelation of his true self angered her so, but truly paid it little further thought.
"Very well." With her voice, Sauron intoned. Returning to walking through the intertwined and layered labyrinth that was Coruscant's many uncountable streets and paths. Unlike his bound companion, the Dark Lord felt nothing of her body's pain. Another wonderful exploit they now shared between themselves.
L's Note: If you have criticisms/concerns/questions feel free to leave a review or send a message, and I will do my best to respond, or I will appreciate the compliment or the critical views! I will also relay any kind words or thoughts to the author, maybe even convince him to post this himself in the future. :P
Any/all grammar flubs COULD be pointed out and fixed, but if you're a di*k about it then I'll just ignore you like the troll you are. XD
Any and all flaming morons, as a personal point: Kiss my a$$! ^_^
Edit Note: Edited/Updated 3/9/2021