The Sinyaquenta: Tales of Arda and the Galaxy

by Lord Exar Kun

Following the end of 'Arda Unleashed' this book contains the varied tales, adventures and stories of characters both old and new. Follow them through this new galaxy. Follow Sauron, Anakin, Obi-Wan, Padme, Aragorn, Gandalf and many more in the lead up to the next step in the great tale of Arda in the Galaxy. Much will change, for good and for ill. Time alone shall tell.

14. Old Friends and Old Plagues

Chapter 14

Old Friends and Old Plagues

Up to the door where it began. At least where the journey and quest to destroy the One Ring as Anakin understood it, began. That's where he, Obi-Wan, Padmé and all the others were led by Sam. The air was still cool and the winds carried earthy scents of many laid and tended flowers. A natural and fresh dose of air, of oxygen, as Anakin had ever breathed into his lungs.

The road along where he and the rest walked were meandered by hobbits, of course. Many of whom seemed to be of the more well-off variety, though certainly not all. Quite a few hobbits hummed, whistled and sang their way through life. Meeting and greeting Sam with deep bows. Straw hats atop some heads, and overalls dirtied by work upon gardens and with farm animals. Upon seeing Merry and Pippin they'd happily stammer greetings, finding it hard to remember both had been missing for quite so long. Not to be rude or out of rudeness, of course. Anakin just sensed the folk around here lived on a day to day basis. Their memories and their manner didn't quite allow them to recognize things moving until it had already moved. In some ways, though certainly not quite alike, they were the perfect example of Qui-Gon's teachings, as Obi-Wan taught Anakin. Living in the moment. That certainly fit the hobbits well, and to their own comfortable benefit.

Either way, those same hobbit folk would see Anakin, Obi-Wan and Padmé along with the twins and the 'odd' metal bird as so many called FourDee. Greeting in more genuine concern and trepidation. Only for Sam to bid them be more calm and well mannered. Sam, carried himself proudly and strongly. Hands looped about his overalls, with a strong body made so by the arduous trek he, Frodo and the creature; as Anakin had caught sight of upon the slopes of Mount Doom, Gollum. As noticed before, Sam had become far more articulate and strong. Having lost more of the manner of innocence than at least Merry and Pippin. Though...Anakin knew that in all likelihood the one to have lost the most in that respect had to be Frodo.

Sam had given so much of his strength, and himself entirely to help Frodo complete his task. It was Frodo who had carried the ring as long as he had. Frodo to be tortured by it in both lust and hate. Disgust and desire mingled together. Frodo who had gone to the very precipice of the fiery pit where it had been made to finally have his will be twisted so utterly as to refuse to complete his task. No one could, of course, blame Frodo for that. Gandalf had explained it more than a few times. No one, he believed, at that precipice could have willingly tossed the ring. Not himself, not Frodo, not Anakin, and not even some of those who wielded greater powers in the far west. Though, Anakin didn't know enough of such beings to fully comment on that. So, he accepted what Gandalf supposed.

In all, everyone had gone through it. The great proverbial 'it' being war and torment to some degree. Anakin, Obi-Wan, Padmé in her own way. The people of this world had went through their own war, from west to east. The vast sum of peoples throughout the galaxy, of course. Everyone had experienced the touch of war and conflict. All had been in some way defined or shaped by it and would be defined for the rest of their lives. Even in ways none could quite articulate. Though, for Anakin such things were evident. The scars, the memories that ran deep. Memories of dreams of torture. Things he didn't want to remember, and that final fight in the Senate chamber.

Ah...he shook his head gently. Willing the musings away. He released the pent up swelling of discomfort into the Force and centered himself once more in the here and now. Letting a smile grow along his face as he told himself to take after the hobbits for once! Let go of all those thoughts of what came before and what would come in the days ahead. Follow his own plans and his own realizations made in the weeks before. Whether he liked admitting it or not Anakin knew he had grown.

"Here we are." Sam announced for no real reason. Leading everyone through a simple, but tended gate. It had swung open with a creak and clanged about behind them as Obi-Wan followed lastly. The hobbit home was very nice. A large mound atop a hill, dug into it. Around the small circular windows were plots where flowers and tended tracts of grass grew. Stones were laid on the opposite side of the gate leading to an ascending set of stone steps to where the main green doorway loomed. A bench and flower pots were arranged along the ground level when you came through the gate. While another was placed up the stairs to the left ahead some from the doorway itself.

With a hum, Anakin took in the sight. The damn comfortable beauty of it all! Though, he did get the impression now more than ever that this was indeed the best of the best in terms of hobbit homes. It spoke of the more well-off among the hobbits. Though, seemingly few would mind or care too much...maybe that Ted Sandyman, and of course the Sackville-Bagginses. The cherry on top...or rather the tree that was above the home was as massive here as Anakin had seen from afar. A mighty oak tree as he was reminded of several times by Sam, Merry and Pippin. All seeming to rather like that mighty thing...Anakin had to agree. Especially as he looked up and saw the leaves upon it shimmer and shake with a breeze.

The heaving of the wind almost seemed to force him to breathe in another cooling bout of oxygen. His shoulders rose and fell, and Anakin once more felt the calming presence of this place help ease him. The Force swept to and fro and comforted him. This place was a nestled paradise. It had its own problems, sure. No place was exactly perfect, of course. But, there was that familiar realization and joy that there was a peacefulness here in the Shire that Anakin had rarely felt anywhere else. He did, in fact, rather like it here.

"Pretty nice, isn't it?" Padmé wondered in observation. Anakin smirked agreeably, and planted his right hand into hers. She smiled and their eyes met.

"What?"

"Nothing." Anakin shrugged. "Can't a guy hold his wife's hand?"

"Of course. Just wondering if that Skywalker mind was, or is, up to anything?"

"Am I that mischievous, Senator?" Anakin leaned down and their lips connected in a soft peck. She grinned as they pulled apart and nodded.

"You are. And a bit of a fool."

"Foolishly in lo-"

"Don't finish that, Anakin." Obi-Wan coughed and pulled both around to look at the older Jedi Master. "Really, my old friend. I expect better from you than those types of lines."

"As if the great Obi-Wan Kenobi knows how to flirt!" Anakin shot back as Padmé rolled her eyes. Not the first nor the last time these two would banter. Truly, they were brothers in all ways but blood.

"You'd be surprised, Anakin. Or, maybe you've forgotten your own digs at your poor old Master? I seem to recall more than a few instances where it behooves a Jedi to play up flirtation."

"Yeah yeah. You and half the galaxy's princesses." Anakin waved Obi-Wan off as the older man chortled. Then, with an impish grin, Anakin snaked his right arm around Padmé's shoulders and pulled her against him with a slight huff from her.

"You may get the princesses to fawn over you, old man. But, I got the Queen of Naboo! Well, one of them. The best!" Anakin grinned as Padmé looked up at him from her slightly tilted position.

"I ask myself everyday how I let that happen, Ani. Trust me." Padmé scoffed in jest while Anakin chuckled.

"Whatever you say, Senator. Or, do you prefer 'Your Majesty?'"

"Alright you two, come on." Obi-Wan pushed them gently on. "Get that carriage up the steps now. We have another one of our hobbit friends to meet."

"You're right. Rare, but you can be right once or twice, Obi-Wan."

"And rarely do you ever say anything intelligent, Anakin. I just don't see the point in telling you when you do."

"You two…" Padmé shook her head. Grabbing the right side of the mobile and lifting it as Anakin took the other side. Both parents hauling it up the flight of steps where the hobbits waited. Bantering among themselves as Sam knocked on the green circular door.

"Oh, nice of you to join us up here!" Pippin greeted them all.

"Give us a break, Pippin." Anakin grunted as he reached the top. Placing the carriage down with a sight sigh. "We're not all quite so full of energy as you are."

"I know! Quite sad when I stop to think about it."

"You think?" Merry snorted. "That's news to me, Pip."

"That's very unkind Merry."

"Truth oftentimes does hurt." Both of them grinned. Padmé for her part sighed deeply. Her brown eyes rolling.

"Force, I'm surrounded by sarcastic boys!"

"I'm a man, I'll remind you, madam." Anakin corrected. Though, Padmé just shook her head.

"You keep telling yourself that, Ani." She countered as FourDee wordlessly hovered about her head.

The three stood waiting while Sam knocked upon the door. In no time at all, and with little fanfare, the sound of it unlocking was heard. Until, with a groan of hinges, the slab revealed what would seem a magnificently wooden built arched dwelling! The ceiling was high, for hobbits anyways, and the floor was cleanly laid with wood that seemed almost treated. The walls within were also of affluent manner for the people of this world, in Anakin's eyes. Similar to how the elves of Rivendell lived in wooden structures, but far, far more homely.

More importantly, however, was the pale face, with his signature shaggy brown locks, of Frodo Baggins. The hobbit bore little expression upon opening the door, but turning to take in the sight of everyone, his blue eyes lit up and a smile that felt...rare even without having seen him in months, grew along his features.

"Merry, Pippin!"

"Aye!"

"Frodo!" Merry and Pippin greeted accordingly. Both swept in and enfolded Frodo in a mighty duel hug! The other hobbit huffed as Pippin and Merry twisted him about. He did, however, begin to laugh and that brought a smile to Anakin and Obi-Wan's faces.

"Alright you two, alright! Get on off Mister Frodo now! You'll hurt him."

"It's quite alright, Sam." Frodo assured his, even now, ever watchful companion. That too filled Anakin's heart in warmth.

"Aye, we're just happy to see him, Sam! Been a while!" Pippin reminded.

"Aye that it has been. Gone off on more adventuring you two. Some good you'd hope it did, what with all the foolishness you two always bring."

"Oi!" Merry crossed his arms with quizzical and curious a look to his brow. "We can't all leave for weeks on end and come home ready to marry the first fine hobbit lass we see like you, Sam!"

"That's not…! I didn't...oh…" Sam sputtered, and turned rosy red. Quite appropriate as the two Jedi and Padmé shared knowing glances. The name Rosie Cotton quite familiar to them by now.

"We should meet this Rosie sometime, Sam." Padmé asked, forcing the hobbit to keep sputtering. Turning to her and averting his gaze.

"Oh well, I mean I wouldn't be against it, Miss! Not a bit! Rosie she's a...a fine lady and all. Finest in all of the Shire I'd say."

"Ah see, Sam knows how to speak of his girl, Anakin." Obi-Wan chortled. Anakin whirled onto him.

"I beg your par-"

"Oh boy…" Pippin, of all people chuckled as Frodo watched the whole affair happily. Sam patting his shoulder and seeming to gauge how Frodo was feeling with a quick glance up and down along his body.

"Anakin, Obi-Wan! It's been too long." Frodo silently bid Sam let go, and he did so. Walking forward he extended his hand and Anakin bent himself onto his knee. Grasping the small given hand in his own metallic appendage. Gently enfolding and shaking. Coming eye-level, the two inherently understanding some semblance more of the other. Though quick, Anakin had also held the One, and Frodo, by his eyes alone, showed he understood Anakin as he did Sam as well, on a level no one other could he himself. Though, obviously he would never treat anyone different. It was but a feeling...a knowing and experience. A trauma few, thankfully, had to carry even now.

"Frodo. It certainly has been too long! Sorry for crashing in on you. Merry and Pippin forced us."

"Not that again!" Pippin scoffed.

"Ah, don't listen to Anakin, Frodo. He's full of it. He, Obi-Wan and the eminent Miss Padmé wanted to come and see the Shire for themselves. See you too. You and Sam of course."

"Oh, aye." Sam nodded, hooking his thumbs around his overall straps. "I don't doubt it one bit. A fine tale they weave, but miss us I have no doubt Anakin and Obi-Wan did for sure! Dragged along his Misses, Anakin did. Proper unkind."

"Not you too, Sam!" Anakin bemoaned as Frodo gently chortled turning to the others.

"Nothing like old friends to truly make you feel welcome, eh?" Frodo offered and Anakin at once understood what he meant. Through bluster and sarcasm, through joke and through jab, it was all in good faith. All in truth, but a feigned veil. Necessary? One could debate, but within it lay the truth. They were all happy to see one another.

"They exaggerate." Anakin scoffed, drawing Frodo's attention back. "But, we did miss you, my friend. The others send their love too! Gandalf, Gimli, Aragorn, everyone."

"Ah, me and Sam missed out on the reunion."

"Not in so many words." Obi-Wan cut in as Anakin released Frodo's hand. Pulling back as Obi-Wan took the hobbit's hand. "You wouldn't have wanted to see what poor Merry and Pippin had to deal with where we come from."

"Aye!" Pippin, with feigned indignation, agreed. "It was just supposed to be a visit! Then we get involved in a lot of business with war, and would-be emperors!"

"For which you have been thanked, Pippin. Both of you." Obi-Wan reminded.

"Think nothing of that, Mister Obi-Wan." Sam hummed. "These two get into trouble well enough all their own, I'd say. A Brandybuck and a Took make for such shenanigans."

"Shenanigans?!" Pippin cried while Merry and Sam shared a knowing glance. Frodo laughing as he greeted Obi-Wan.

"Good to see you, Obi-Wan. And good to see everyone in good health. Seeing as 'shenanigans' were afoot?"

"A lot to be said on that." Anakin nodded as Obi-Wan stood back up. "Oh, and here! This, Frodo Baggins, is my wife, Padmé Amidala-Skywalker."

"A pleasure." Padmé bent and shook his hand. Frodo taking it happily and with a serene smile that seemed to fit Frodo and his demeanor.

"Anakin spoke of you before he left out world the last time. Quite taken he seemed."

"Aye, quite!"

"Agreed Pippin, very much so."

"Couldn't have said it better me'self." Pippin, Merry and Sam agreed to Anakin's blush and ire.

"He's such a charmer. Even when I'm not there."

"Proper one, Miss." Frodo beamed. A slight hitch was noted by Anakin though. The hobbit retracted his hand from Padmé and she laughed at their happy meeting. Frodo, however, his eyes narrowed painfully as he rolled his shoulders. Anakin watched, while he said something to Padmé that she blushed and chortled about; very likely about he himself, that Frodo paid special attention to his left shoulder. He could guess why.

Strangely Anakin felt that familiar tense need to clench his right hand return. It hadn't bothered him much of late. Yet, merely looking at Frodo rub his shoulder, and hide the discomfort he clearly felt made Anakin's own adopted tick from the One Ring redouble. Grinding his teeth he fought to ignore it. Knowing it would ebb...eventually.

"...ah, but I have held us all up, haven't I?" Frodo hummed. He was currently looking down into the mobile at both Luke and Leia. Padmé had introduced them as Obi-Wan eyed Anakin to the younger Jedi's clear view. He shrugged even as his old Master silently appraised, though thankfully said nothing.

"Not at all, Mister Frodo!" Sam assured, dutifully. Though, Frodo smiled he waved his friend down.

"Now now Sam, I have. Please, everyone come on in! I'll put on a kettle of tea. Have you ever had hobbit tea, Miss?"

"No!" Padmé chirped. "I'd be delighted to try it."

"Fine tea it is, Miss Padmé." Sam assured as he stood off to the left side of the doorway. Merry and Pippin happily stepped inside and discarded their dirty shoes.
"I've no doubt in my mind that's true, Sam." She beamed and pushed the carriage inside. Ducking low as she entered Bag End. The interior smelling of faint pipe smoke, and something cooking unseen, likely pork. A woody and natural small too, the finely built and tended interior wood thrusting those who took it in back into their memories. Nostalgic, even if they had no recollection or memory to be nostalgic towards. Homely, comfortable and safe.

"Hello there!" FourDee dropped down into Frodo's face. "I am 11-4D at your service. Though I am property to my Master and Mistress Skywalker."

"Oh...hello." Frodo began.

"FourDee!" Anakin shooed the poorly attuned to personal-space, droid inside after Padmé. Frodo shook his head. Not one to get too frazzled by droids. Anakin wondered if he remembered the magnaguards at the Crack of Doom's doorway...

"Forgive the size difference. Hobbit holes are not meant for big folk, I'm afraid." Frodo spoke shaking Anakin from his thoughts.

"Think nothing of it, my friend." Obi-Wan assured. Winking at Anakin as he passed, ducking low and grasping his robes as he got inside.

"Me and Anakin have suffered far dingier and more cramped spaces than these!"

"I've no doubt of that." Frodo chuckled lightly. Anakin rolled his eyes and followed. Ducking as Frodo stood waiting by the door. Letting Sam come in lastly, as though standing truly as a bodyguard. The doorway shut and a latch sounded as Anakin took in the sights.

"Quite the place, Frodo. Merry and Pippin didn't undersell it at all."

"You think we would?" Merry wondered.

"Well...maybe not you, Merry."

"Oi!" Pippin cried from another unseen room.

"Thank you." Frodo graciously took. Offering his hands to Obi-Wan. The elder Jedi cocking his head curiously, before his brows shot up and he realized his cloak was being asked after.

"Ah, thank you, my friend." Obi-Wan disrobed the outer brown attire. Frodo took it. Huffing at its slightly heavier weight than those meant for hobbits. Folding it neatly.

"You needn't-" Anakin began.

"Ah, but it's good manners, Anakin, sir!" Sam cut him off kindly enough. Offering to take his outer cloak. Sheepishly Anakin didn't move, but surrendered. Feeling far too looked after by those he considered equal to himself.

"Never mind, Anakin. Him and etiquette are strangers." Obi-Wan jabbed as Anakin handed his cloak to Sam he and Frodo folded rather than tried to hang them. They would've been too long anyways. Luckily, Padmé had no attire to give.

"Yeah, whatever you say, old man."

"You and my age, Anakin. You'll be as old as I am one day too."

"I shall endeavor to never be that old, Obi-Wan."

"You better, Ani!" Padmé called over her shoulder, as she was led towards a living room by Pippin.

"You heard her, Anakin."

"Aye!" Sam agreed with Obi-Wan. "Better to experience what we can for as long as we can. What's given today can be suddenly and quickly taken tomorrow."

"I…" Anakin started. Then stopped. Smiling with a faint sigh he smiled. "You're right. Well, at least I'll wear it better than you, Master." Anakin jabbed on while Obi-Wan shifted in his slightly bent manner to look at him. A cocked brow on his face.

"You will never leave your old Master alone will you, Anakin?" Anakin had his back to Obi-Wan as he angled about. He began turning towards Obi-Wan…

"I will – OOF!" With a loud thunk, Anakin had turned his head directly into a wooden beam. Obi-Wan's face fought it, but eventually caved under pressure. A loud laugh came, and his face contorted into a grin. Anakin nursed his forehead as Frodo and Sam watched and cringed. Frodo especially, apologetically.

"Are you alright?" Frodo asked.

"Kriffing...yeah...yeah I'm alright." Anakin seethed and suckled in a breath. Pulling his hand back and finding no blood. Though his brow was tender.

"What happened out there?!" Padmé called in a singsong tone.

"Nothing!" Anakin replied back in equal singsong.

"What happened Obi-Wan?" She counterattacked, and looked to his Master.

"Anakin smacked his head into a wooden beam, my Lady."

"Ani…!"

"It was an accident!" He heard Padmé scoff. Sensing without seeing her roll her eyes. It was out of love.

"You're not the first on that, Mister Anakin, sir." Sam noted.

"Yeah?"

"No." Frodo apologetically shook his head. "Bilbo told me and then I saw it myself, Gandalf has hit his head on several of these beams. Not meant for tall folk, and all."

"Ah well...if the wizard has done it, guess that means he and I are alike."

"Sure, Anakin. Sure." Obi-Wan turned with a musical tune in his throat. Heading for the living room where Padmé, Merry and Pippin had gathered.

"Can I get you something for that, Anakin?"

"Ah!" Anakin waved Frodo down. "Don't worry, Frodo. Let me just sit down before I hurt myself anymore." Both Frodo and Sam smiled. Leading Anakin to be with the others.

Tea was prepared, and stories relayed of what happened in the Shire upon the hobbits return, as well as what Merry, Pippin, Anakin and Obi-Wan had endured on Coruscant. The sights, sounds and how the rest of the Fellowship was. The day carrying on. Luke and Leia blubbering and gaining the attention of all four hobbits to varying extents. Soon enough, and in the many years ahead, it would be said by both twins that they had quite a few uncles.

A few of whom were hobbits in this very room.

---

Some time after Exar Kun had been resurrected and after sufficient time had been invested in ordering Yavin IV to become his base of operations, and a world sufficient for further development for the local Massassi species, Sauron had taken his leave. For a time, at least. The continued peace process came underway between the Republic and Confederacy afar. However, the final plans were being drawn up for the Accords to take place on the mostly water world of Bestine. Grievous was none too pleased with having to affirm meetings and plans with what remained of the Separatist Council, still acting as the face of leadership while all power rested in his lap. However, the General played the part required of him in connection with Sauron's needs and plans. United together in their in efforts going forward.

The Dark Lord had learned quite a few tricks and Force techniques from Exar Kun. Vica was very pleased with some of them. Including the concentrated power known as a 'Force Blast.' Something beyond lightning, though each had their effectiveness and uses. The 'blast' was a concentrated beam of sorts. Using the Force to create a focused beam of pure energy that ripped beings apart. A rare power, so Sauron had been told, and he believed it, based on Vica's own delight in the discovery and learning of it. Sauron, however, was not above admitting he would need time and practice to master this power, as he would for the others. His spirit and Vica's connection to the Force made its power all that much easier to use, but to tame them was another story. Though, he did not doubt he and the Witch would come to mastery soon enough.

Nevertheless, before they were to return to Bâlmírdan and meet with the Chiss, Thrawn, Sauron desired to follow the palantír to one last location. Furthering his and Vica's travels and discovery of the Force until after he finally met with the blue skinned alien. Unlike Yavin IV, however, Sauron had delved deep and pushed his spirit and will through the globed device, but could not find a landscape or markings familiar to Vica. In the days after Kun's awakening and return already Sauron had returned to searching out the distant voices that wailed in the dark and gnashed. There were so many. Far too many of them were beneath interest, and weak. Those few that showed promise, and power were what Sauron sought.

Among this smaller group there was one 'voice' that piqued Sauron's interest. This one was quite far, at least that was the feeling Sauron had perceived upon looking into the palantír. From Yavin IV relative to the rest of the galaxy, of course. Yet, what was interesting about this presence, was that it did not seem quite as crazed. Not quite as pulsating between the realms of life and death. A spirit, for sure, but far more tethered.

It flashed in and out of Sauron's consciousness upon the edges of sense as Sauron sought them out. They did not perceive him. They, like Kun and the others did not perceive the Eye's distant sight enhanced by Fëanor's craft. Sauron could only push so far, but the voice was there. Their presence was powerful within the Force. Something old...perhaps even older than Kun? Their power was telling and so too was an innate sense. Sauron's own intuition and no small amount of what he could perceive through Vica's connection to the Force.

However, once he looked upon the details of what the palantír showed, there was far too little to go off of. A vast desert lay sprawled out before him. A desolate landscape with some vague flora upon the edges of sight. Desert shrubs and types of cacti. A great dome in the sky that allowed for the endless trickling sparkles of distant stars to shimmer as moonlight upon the sea at night.

Sauron kept his gaze upon this sight for some days. Showing Vica what he saw yielded no aid, but what he and the Witch saw was that the world was not a 'world.' That is, it seemed to be a moon. Much like Yavin IV, however the world it was partnered with always shadowed it. The moon did not leave the shadow of the great blackened sphere in its perpetual twilight skies. As a shadowy looming giant staring down upon the surface. Unmoving and ever vigilant. Ominous in its own way.

Regardless, Vica had proposed the desert world to be Tatooine. Though this was before it was discovered to be a moon, and Tatooine was a far more barren place than this. Eventually the Witch had to admit she didn't know too many desert worlds off the top of her head, and Sauron's glance into her memories proved her correct, though he did not make his thought-sifting quite so known.

In the end, Sauron chose to call up a vast database of known worlds and systems throughout the galaxy that the Confederacy had in their astrogation charts and connected encyclopedic data. Narrowing the search field to deserts, and from what he had seen, ascertaining that the planetoid was a moon. A moon that was locked in the shadow of its parent world. Of course, there were still countless worlds and moons that matched that description.

Hours upon hours more of pouring over the results and possibilities, Sauron pushed his will upon the palantír again and again. Sifting for more information and willing the device to show him that which he sought. More information, more clues, and he received back through the Force by way of the sphere inclination he could not explain. Perhaps...perhaps not. What mattered was when he found a moon that potentially met the criteria, and he found himself focusing on it with little reason to do so. As though drawn to it by some innate knowledge. A hint or feeling. Perhaps the Force? Perhaps his will and what the palantír had showed him? Whatever the case, the Dark Lord days into his search focused upon the moon.

It, in fact, had no name. It was a desolate cosmic object. Bearing a scientific name, a jumble of letters and numbers that Sauron did not care to memorize. Within what those of the galaxy called the Expansion Region in the Spinward direction, or galactic south-eastern direction from a top-down view. Within the Expansion Region it loomed within the Narvath Sector.

With little else to go on, Sauron boarded General Grievous' Providence-class ship and requested they make for the coordinates given. Grievous was not quite sure why they were headed for a desolate system that bore no name of memory or worth, but he did not argue. Happy to leave the long layover at Yavin IV. Leaving several ships to maintain patrol in the system, and the droids to continue rebuilding Exar Kun's temples and his Massassi's plots. The forests about mostly left be, but for what needed be cut away to connect the temples, and clear them of overgrowth.

Traveling for some days, eventually the ship exited hyperspace over the unimportant world and the targeted moon. Probes were sent down, along with a few squads of droids of B1 and B2 models. There was minimal signs of life. Keeping with what was known and documented in the previous information of the moon there were signs of a long dead ancient civilization. Ruins about that were spread across the vast deserts. These were, however, unimportant to Sauron. As were the base animals. Insects, lizards and beasts that kept to warmer zones and fed on one another in the usual cycles of life, death and renewal. For Sauron then came down onto the world. His form slightly morphed from Vica's base. Lankier in appearance, thin, and gaunt in the face. What as let be seen. Wrapped about in cloth and robes he chose to keep his appearance confused for any would-be watcher. Even if one needn't assume he was being watched, Sauron chose to imagine thus.

Regardless, once upon the moon's surface, Sauron found the cosmic object in a way...haunting. Though he did not fear it, once his shuttle opened up and the ramp descended, Sauron found himself under blackened perpetual twilight. Stars near and far glimmering and shimmering just as he had seen through the palantír. Jewels set about the skies that shivered as though torch whisked by a dwarven chest full of treasures.

It was the dead calm of the wind, or lack thereof that was haunting. Waiting him were several B1 battle droids stood in formation, five across and five deep along each row. However, the wind was calm and rudderless. There was neither sound of tree shifting and creaking nor the sound of birds or beasts. The haunting silence was as a wasteland in the deeps of a blizzard where no wind gave rise to howls in the further. All sound was heavy within the ear, and every shifting of sad under boot was crinkled and crackled. The moon itself seemed, like the ruins of the long forgotten civilization upon it, dying. Decayed. A fitting place, perhaps, for whatever it is, or whomever it was rather, Sauron now sought out.

He plucked the palantír up from the heavy sack it rested in strapped along his shoulder down at his left hip. Raising it up the blackened sphere shifted as clouds in the blackened night. Deep within loomed a dwimmer and pale light. The eyes of Sauron did not carry the fire often seen, but rather a harsh gray. They, however, seemed to flash in the night. Some kind of unknown and powerful light that delved deep into the palantír. Piercing the veil and imposing upon it his will. For the device, much as anyone else in this fair galaxy, could hardly resist the gaze of his Eye.

In moments the cloudiness within the orb shifted, and a whine like that of a beast tortured by cruel keeper moaned about the air. Twisting as the sights deformed and showed the path. Sauron holding item aloft, he swiveled where he stood. Coming to pause at his right down from the shuttle's ramp. Determined eyes settled and the echo of the palantír's pathway ebbed through the Force. The emanation of whatever was here dull, but stronger than from Yavin IV, of course. The Dark Lord bid the droids to silently follow. Thrusting right hand up and flicking after himself. As he moved along the deserts sands in the blistering, but tolerable cold of this world's twilight. His own fire within more than enough to warm and light his way.

The twenty-five strong droid platoon marched in sync behind Sauron. Clicking and clacking, the march of their heavy robotic frames sounded. While Sauron led them on. Distantly and dully aware that Vulture droids whirred overhead here and there. Scanning the skies, and acting as a protective screen for...whatever may arise that was left unexpected.

…

Some hours passed, and Sauron rarely took a break. The droids needn't one either. They did not speak unless spoken to, and for that Sauron appreciated the machine-men and their machine-minds. Only relaying odd structures, or potential movement as they were programmed to. Sauron, often had to dismiss what was a sort of bearded lizard found crawling on its belly along rock and under sand in the distance.

The troupe would move through a rock wall, a sort of canyon planted down in the deserts acting like a wall of blackened stone. Blackened by what? This he did not know. Remnants of a lost civilization remained like the bones of dead men sticking out of the muck along a battlefield. Reaching upwards towards aid and salvation that should never come. Lost under the ceaseless turning of their parent world.

The canyon itself was coated in gem growths that glowed once placed under more direct light. A type of stalagmite that carried, more often than not, bluish tinges about their hearts. Blooming as Sauron paused to inspect them. Taking idle enjoyment in the formations of this world as he did those he had seen thus far in his time since leaving Arda. Old memories and old inclinations from his time under Aulë scratched unwanted at the edges of his thought. He did not deny he enjoyed such things as made the worlds what they were. Their natural order. Though, even this moon had been marred by mortal rot and the mortal ingredient. Agitated eyes glancing upon ruined rock that signified civilization and fallen buildings.

All the same, he moved on and followed the palantír's path.

The droids in his wake, the Dark Lord came to a stop overlooking the vast deserts. Himself planted at the opposing end of the blackened rock canyon having come out the other side. Where beyond was the great sea of sand. Infinite to the unknowing eye.

"Valdaran, sir!" One of the droids approached and had called to Sauron in the worn name taken. He turned as the Captain of the droids neared with a pair of macrobinoculars in blocky left hand.

"A crash sight is located three kilometers northwest, sir."

"Recent?"

"Negative." The droning robotic voice shook its cone head. "Vulture droid scans overhead have caught the aft of a shuttle piercing up through the sands. Nearly buried entirely, sir."

"I see." Sauron nodded. Grasping again at the palantír, he once more bid it show him the path. It pushed and pushed, further moving and stronger than before. Until, Sauron perceived well the sight of the stars in the vision he beheld well could be from such a sunken ship. More than that, however, Vica's connection to the Force bristled at the mention of this ship. It would seem the Force gave indication, a raw feeling that this ship was where Sauron desired to go.

"Set course for the crash sight, Captain."

"Aye, sir!" The droid saluted stiffly. Ordering the droids to shift positions and make on marching. Sauron remained stood and unmoved a moment longer. Curious of the wasteland set before him. The endless nothing where within was to be found his target. A curious sensation like an epiphany nipped at the corners of his mind, but he did not follow whatever such thoughts could be or lead him towards. He turned and made after the droids.

…

In a little under an hour, standard time, the troupe crossed the three kilometers and reached what was indeed a crash sight. Previously unseen and undetected by orbital sensors aboard Grievous' ship. It was too small, and hidden under the sands. Closer inspection allowed the Vultures circling overhead to detect it along with scans by the droids and their binoculars.

Another several hours passed as the droids dropped equipment and began hauling the ship up out of the sands. Sauron standing nearby. Eyes closed as he delved into the Force. However, there was no spirit as with Exar Kun that made themselves known. In spit of their different presence from afar seemingly indicating more clarity or clearer strength in the living realm. Sauron found it curious, but he did sense something else. Something within the shuttle that called out. A power that bid those who could feel the Force to approach. It was as though a call, or horn drowned from under the waves of the ocean. A faint cry from behind the walls of a cell deep in a dungeon pit. Many thoughts and ruminations of what this could mean passed over Sauron, but he would wait and see.

The shuttle seemed to be a cargo shuttle that, upon scans was designated to a reptilian species in a nearby system, known as Chubbits. They hailed from the world of Aridus in the Flarestar System within the same Sector as this derelict moon. Within the shuttle bones long having lost their flesh to decay of several such Chubbits were found. Four in the cargo hold, a fifth in the pilot's seat, and a sixth torn in half. The shattered viewport on the front of the shuttle gave indication to the lost half being...sent outside of the shuttle upon impact.

Scorch marks lined the outside of the shuttle. Likely from fighters. From who? That was nearly impossible, though Sauron did bid the droids to begin checking if the systems within the shuttle could be checked for posterity. However, the greater find was within the hold among the four dead lizard-like men.

A blocky and deeply blackened thing. Ovular, but with rounded edges at each of the four corners. Its base heavy and thick, almost like worn stone. While then top of it, a hatch was sleek and arched. Almost like glass that shimmered in the starlight and then bloomed reflection upon introduction of floodlights around the crash zone.

Sauron had approached it after it was dragged out onto the sands of the desert. Heavy indeed, and ancient as expected. The droids could not determine upon scan to what culture it belonged. No records remained, or existed. That only piqued Sauron's interest more. Flaring eyes, resisting showing the fire within, trailed the outer edges. Squares, like teeth were carved into the lower half of the device. The great slab atop it pressed into those toothy breaks. The pressure of the device seemed totally sealed. Incredibly so. Considering the interior damage of the shuttle where wires swung freely, bodies were mangled and hulling for the shuttle was impacted deep. The blackened...thing was without outward damage. Whilst within...there seemed to call a beckoning shadow.

"There you are…" Sauron intoned to himself. Feeling the whispered call through the Force meld like that of the distant cry. They were, as he had long suspected, one in the same. Different once in person for reasons he did not yet know.

One of the droids, Sauron perceived it to be the same Captain unit, approached.

"Shall we pry it open, sir?"

"Pry?" Sauron repeated. Walking along the side of the device. His right hand planting along the outer top shell. Feeling the smoothness of the blackened casing.

"No, Captain. We need not pry it open, because I believe we can make it open for us."

"Roger, roger, sir." The B1 nodded simply. Sauron hummed on. His eyes tracing the sleek top half and the boxy bottom. Clear indications of a latch or button escaped his sight. The Force ebbed on, and seemed to carry an old rasp. An undulation underneath the surface of sorts. Yet, in that Sauron felt pulled. Not towards a specific object, or place on the thing, but rather an idea.

"Hmm…" He hummed again. Stepping back he waved the droids follow his example. The encirclement of them shuffled backwards. Most holding their blasters close to their chests while a few stood waiting with their blasters latched along their backs. The Captain unit tilted its coned head towards Sauron, unsure what he was doing, or meant to do. Simple as the B1 was. Sauron, raised his right hand, and from it came the low thrum as a pulsation across the air.

The rumbling was low and audible. The droids shifted again, unsure what it was. Though they did not react as mortals did. Jumping and questioning and bumbling. Sauron willed the top half of the device open. Finding, like tendrils cast as strings from his fingertips the edges of what divided top from bottom. His will pushed upwards, and with a sudden hiss that seethed from the device, latches within and run along its edges let loose. Snap, snap, and snap. The latches released. Thuds sounding as compression of some kind exhaled as a millennia held breath. The droids stiffened and remained at the ready to unleash bolts from their weapons. All as the top half opened with a long groan of its gears on one half. An attached cap being rolled open and up.

Sauron lowered his hand, and with a flick of his fingers, the upturned dust and sand was swept aside by the Force. Beside him, within his own vision, the translucent figure of the Witch popped back into sight. Having mostly kept to herself along this journey thus far. As Sauron approached and paused at the side of the device, Vica loosed another of her ethereal whistles. Her own astral figure peering down and inside as both she and Sauron saw the same thing.

"Now what have we here?"

"You don't know?" Sauron wondered within their shared mind.

"Not a clue. I don't know what this thing is, but that outfit? Looks out of date to me."

"More important," Sauron jutted his wrapped chin towards something inside. "The lightsaber hilt."

"That too." Vica agreed.

The device, now that Sauron looked within was more along the lines of a casket, or a sarcophagus of sorts for the heathen kings in Harad. More importantly, however, was the vision of the...being that lay asleep within. A seemingly human woman. Fair fleshed and with long black raven hair that was tied in a strap of sorts that coiled about and ran down much of the length of a single braid falling well towards the middle of her back.

Blackened interlaced boots were planted upon her feet and ran up her lower legs stopping some inches under her knees. A belt was across her waist keeping strapped at either hip three inter-layered pieces of armor while a central flap ran down the center between her legs. Her legs proper were covered in white leggings, seeming slender, but giving the wearer, this woman, plenty of mobility. Her chest was covered, but her midriff was exposed revealing a strong core of muscle though it did not detract from her, as Sauron would say, base mortal fairness. Along her chest the armor wrapped about her back and was kept in place by twin straps that ran over her shoulders. Both of which were clasped by shoulder armor pieces like pauldrons. Down her arms to her hands she was wrapped in dark cloth, clasped in place by metal binds. Two along her biceps and the third along her forearms. Most interesting, and oddly out of place for the regalia, which consisted of white, gray, some black and blue, there rested tightly clasped along her neck a golden bit of jewelry.

Seeming almost like an insect, made in fanciful design, legs of it, or the wrap of the necklace was locked about her neck where she lay. It ran down the front of her body towards her breasts in a dagger like form. Nine red jewels ran atop it staring up at Sauron. Once more seeming like the flash of a spider's eyes. Momentarily flashing in Sauron's mind the spider that even now loomed in the highs of Cirith Ungol. A central circle lay about those red jewels. Four to one side, and four along the other with the final, the ninth laying under the center circle. Upon it there was no visible jewel. Yet, in Sauron's mind he almost perceived a bluish glow calling out to him from the center. It beckoned him nearer, but he felt no true compulsion to lay his hand upon it. Though, he did cast glance to Vica's astral being and see her observe the same phenomena in a transfixed demeanor. From this thing, that is where the source of the dark call originated. Within and about this necklace there was the darkness.

Yet, even then Sauron's eyes shifted upwards. Narrowed eyelids shadowed his worn eyes as he glanced left to right. A whisper on the quiet winds. A familiar sensation that came upon opening the casket that had grown. Grown more intrigued.

"Something's off here…"

"Hmm?" Vica hummed thoughtfully as Sauron reclined. Tilting his head about thoughtfully. "What are you talking about?"

"There's-" Sauron was cut off. Come from within the casket loosed a sharp inhalation of breath! He twisted back and looked within. The woman heaved and whirled herself forward up into a sitting position! Her eyes bulged, and her brow receded as her hands clasped the edges of her seeming bed. Blue eyes were wild and unfixed. Her breasts rose and fell in sharp intakes and exhales as though gasping for long denied oxygen. Her lips trembled as stray raven locks of her hair fell, in nearly crazed manner at either edge of her face.

"Whoa!" Vica popped out and then back into sight of Sauron's eyes from one side to the other of the casket. "She's alive! I didn't sense that."

"You were ogling her necklace."

"I was...okay fine, it is rather...alluring you must admit!" Vica sheepishly, and childishly grumbled.

Sauron didn't respond. Instead, he pulled himself back from the side of the device and clasped the Witch's hands behind their shared back. Tilting his head and waiting for the now awakened woman to speak. She kept panting, sucking in breath in and out. Exasperated, and as though having just run for many long leagues without rest. Her body trembling in a noticeable buzzing.

Though, as Sauron waited, he sensed that familiar dark power. Enfolding and about the woman, and more distinctly, the necklace around her neck. Clasped tightly as Sauron eyed it more critically from the visible right of the woman's neck. Yet, the dark power so too seemed to simmer, and gently move about the air. Shifting itself left and right. About and around. An unknown power, and a connected harshness. Far more familiar now as the woman awoke to the waking world more and more. As though it too needed a moment to fully return to the realm of the waking and living. A pale crimson light as though, flickered at the corners and edge of Sauron's vision. Seeking to evade. Seeking to remain unseen. A consciousness to it that Sauron could detect.

With a silent hum, Sauron nodded to himself. Beginning to understand, but not saying anything. Just yet at least. While the woman, she ran her hands up her face. Clawing at her brow.

She turned to her left. Seeing the edge of the upper half of the device risen above her. While beyond a B1 battle droid stood and cocked its coned head. Saying nothing. Then, she tilted towards Sauron. Critical, maddened blue eyes wide and observant. The shaking central orbs of the eyes focused as predator upon prey. Upon Sauron.

"Don't like the look of that." Vica intoned within their mind.

"You don't recognize this being at all?"

"No."

"Hmm, intriguing." Sauron nodded, seemingly to himself. Though no droid would care to question him as he stepped forward. The woman remained unspoken, but her eyes never left Sauron in the morphed guise of the Witch's body.

"Be on guard." Sauron uttered to Vica.

"What? Why?!"

"We are being watched. And not by her alone." Vica's astral being narrowed her gaze. The brow she bore falling as she swept about. Looking for something. Instinctively on guard. While Sauron came to a stop, but a pace from the device and the woman within. Her hands falling from her face. Her expression etched harshly in contortions of careful observation. Nose wrinkled and the lines at the corners of her mouth defined almost near disgust. Sauron found it curious, but ignored it. Instead clearing his worn throat and tilting his head in a sort of bow, forward.

"Greetings." Sauron began. "Do you speak...Basic?" The woman's eyes narrowed further. Her head tilted up and she cast her gaze about. Taking in the sights of the seeming infinite and all surrounding sands of the desert.

"Wh..."She began. Stopping to swallow harshly and Sauron assumed having not spoken for some time. A feeling with no evidence for or against, of course.

"Where's Zayne?"

"Zayne?" Sauron repeated the name. "There's no Zayne, my friend." Sauron paused and observed the device again. Coaxing her to do so as well. Seeming to work she followed his gaze and pushed her head back looking into the roof of the upper half of the device.

"H...how long...where am I?" She continued. Her voice shaking with mounting trepidation.

"You needn't be afraid, my friend." Sauron assured. Though that only received a full recognition from the woman. She did not, in fact, seem afraid. Something else was troubling her…

"This moon we're on does not have a name in any records. The shuttle comes from a world known as Aridus. Many...natives of that world, Chubbits I believe, were found dead among your...tomb. Do you have any recollection of how that came to be?"

"No." She all but growled. Her eyes shutting as pain etched across her brow. Her hands clamped at the sides of her head and her teeth bared! Grinding together to seemingly shut something out. Sauron tilted his gaze. Vica's spirit popped into his sight and the Witch's gaze hardened.

"Someone's talking."

"I hear it." Sauron replied internally, nodding as he did. It was a whisper. Formless without words. A distant sputtering of low intones behind a door. Hushed murmurs of one's elders seeking to hide from their awareness. Sauron did not yet make known he caught it as Vica popped out of sight once more.

"What...what year is this?!" The woman trembled. Body quaking as she grappled the right side of her casket and tumbled out in a huff. Sprawling along the sand without offered or given aid by Sauron. Even as the droids shuffled around to face her defensively.

"How long have I been in there?!"

"I wouldn't know." Sauron shrugged earnestly. "The Chubbits were-"

"I don't know anything about any Chubbits!" She snapped! Whirling her head up to glare at Sauron from on hands and knees. Hoisting herself back and up. Knees wobbling as she found the device and pressed herself back against it. Heaving as her naturally strength slowly returned.

"I was put into this...device. The Oubliette to...sleep. Zayne said…" She drifted off. Eyes narrowing downwards in memory.

Sauron hummed thoughtfully once more. Pacing to his left he swept his right hand up thoughtfully.

"Tell me...what was the last important event you remember happening in the galaxy? That, more than anything else may best grant us knowledge as to how long you've been...sleeping."

"I…" She shuddered. Shaking her head as the whispers blew like a whirling wind from the ocean upon the sands. A harsh thing as waves crashed and foamed. Mounting pressure. The woman placed her right hand to her brow and continued, however.

"The...the Mandalorians…" She drifted off again. Resisting whatever internal struggle she was having. "The Mandalorians were rampaging through the Outer Rim. They were...they had finally attacked the Galactic Republic a year prior. Give or take."

"Ah, the eponymous Mandalorian Wars." Sauron nodded. To which the woman whipped her head back at him. Fixing her gaze as the shadow of an emotion, Sauron would guess it anticipation and hope mingled together, fell along her brow.

"Yes!" She intoned. "The Mandalorian Wars...how...how long ago were…"

"By the current metrics being used in the galaxy that would mean you've been in your sarcophagus for nearly four-thousand years. Nearly, of course. I couldn't speak for you in terms of exactness." What Sauron said after didn't seem to register. Her eyes widened, but the deep furrow of her brow creased deeply. Her chest rose in a sudden sucking intake and wobbling shudder of breath exhaled after. She decompressed into the 'oubliette.' Her body falling against it and both hands once more climbed up to grasp her head. While the whisper of a distant laugh howled on the furthest shadows of Sauron's perception. This thing was quite good at hiding itself. Not open as Exar Kun had been. Yet...not good enough to remain unheard entirely.

"Four thousand…" She trailed off in a whisper. "Stop it!" She growled and Sauron knew she did not speak to him.

"It is a lot to take in, I am sure." Sauron simply offered. His mind flashing back four-thousand years to the Second Age. Nearing its end upon Arda. Morbid thoughts and memories...Númenoreans and Alliances. He cast them aside. Irrelevant at the moment.

"Je...Jedi!" She seethed through her endless painful grimace. "Where are...the Jedi?"

"About." Sauron hummed. "They are not exactly friends of those who you have awoken to."

"What?"

"I am...Lord Valdaran." Sauron bowed. The title 'lord' seemed to awaken her prior stern gaze. Her hands fell and Sauron watched her right hand fall to her lightsaber. A simple hilt of little outward design. Indeed, almost seeming designed to be as plain as possible. Curious.

"Lord?" She questioned. Her nostrils flaring dangerously. Would be normally, at least. Sauron showed no fear and nodded.

"I bring with me droids of the Confederacy of Independent Systems."

"The what?" She grunted.

"The CIS. They are a galactic faction that has successfully seceded from the Republic. A brutal war just ended. Informally, the formal Accords are to come. Based on your time period I would assume you are familiar with the Sith?" She didn't answer immediately. Her blue eyes flashed and she wrapped her hand around her lightsaber. The droids, seeing her do so raised their blasters on her which made her stance shift defensively. The Force drawing in around her protectively.

"What of them?"

"Your manner, your clothing, your presence in the Force. These are all things that lead me to believe you are a Jedi, no?"

"I am." She carefully nodded. Sauron keenly aware she was sizing him up. "You can feel the Force?"

"I command it quite readily." Sauron showed a quite mirthless smile. "That said, as a Jedi you'd be happy to hear that the Jedi's Chosen One, has come. He threw down the Sith. The very same Sith who orchestrated the war of secession, and who created the Confederacy. While at once ruling the Republic as Supreme Chancellor."

"Wha...what?!" Her careful demeanor sharply twisted in confusion. Eyes shutting and head shaking as she tried to process his words through whatever pain she was going through. Slowly, Sauron sensed her gaining more effective control.

"Sith...created...created the Confederacy?"

"Yes."

"The same you stand with."

"Of course." Sauron nodded. A distant howl of laughter softly rolled forth. While the woman's eyes set and her right foot twisted.

"All I needed to hear!" A blaze and hiss! Her hand rose and a brilliant yellow lightsaber blade burst to life! The droids fired, and she dashed ahead. Dodging and reflecting bolt after bolt. Two droids fell, and the others laid on the fire as Sauron took step after step back. Letting the droids close the crescent.

With a snarl, and gape to her crazed eyes, the ancient Jedi threw her left hand out and a burst of lightning eviscerated all the droids! Popping and bursting! Smoke billowed from blown open chassis while some fell with blasters ripping free bolts into the oubliette and the air. Crashing and clanging among one another as their robotic voices loosed odd grunts and simulated groans.

"You shall not have it!" She all but frothed as she charged at Sauron. "You shall not have it! Nor he, you!"

"We are getting somewhere." Sauron hummed, and she whirled into a jump! Her saber raised overhead, she sliced down. Sauron flicked his right hand up and the Force bloomed in a howl of darkness! Her eyes once more widened and in a furious unleashing of power she was thrown clear over the oubliette and beyond into the desert sands. Crashing rolling along her stomach and back as her saber momentarily died. To come to a pause on her stomach and push herself up to a kneel. Her face etched in pain, and reactivating her lightsaber. Burning the sand it grazed along as she stood back up. Glaring up to see the blackened silhouette of Lord Valdaran, cast against the shuttle and oubliette behind them.

The unknown woman rose to her feet. A seethe snarling by her grit teeth and a shake to her head as squinted eyes showed lingering pain. Sauron stepped closer and shrugged. Sighing in a dismissive manner as he did.

"Is this really necessary?"

"Silence, Sith!" The yellow lightsaber sprung back to life and she whirled it at her right in a flourish. "You cannot have it!"

"It…" Sauron repeated. The eyes he bore flicked to the necklace about her neck. The dark power emanating from it calling out. Indeed, seeming to call more strongly than before. Subtly so, but there.

"I see." Sauron nodded. "I think I believe to understand. That piece of jewelry...it brings power." For a moment the unknown Jedi's sneer lessened. Confusion ran along her features before she spoke.

"You...don't know?"

"Know what?" Sauron asked. Her eyes narrowed and through Vica, Sauron sensed a probe through the Force. He wrapped himself about in her defenses. Disallowing clear penetration beyond. The Jedi seemed to sense 'Valdaran's' powerful defenses, and recoiled. Her nostrils flaring and she brought her saber close to her face in a readied posture.

"You're lying!" She seethed. "There's no other reason a Sith would come for me!"

"That may be so." Sauron nodded. "Though, I am not Sith."

"Enough!" It was pointless in this moment. The Jedi whirled her saber about and dashed in an arch at Sauron's right in towards him. Her saber blazed and she leapt once more. Sauron stepped back as she fell! Cleaving the sand and thrusting up in a wild swing. Sending sand up at his eyes on purpose, Sauron flicked his fingers and the sand flew back into the Jedi's. She seethed again at the intrusiveness. Unleashing a blow, a powerful shock wave through the Force that cast a wave like that upon Ulmo's seas against Sauron! He whirled back, but fell to Vica's feet with grace and ease. The sands about breaking in a V at either of his sides as he sent the Force out in an opposing tidal force.

The hum of the Jedi's lightsaber came in at Sauron's right. He raised his hand and the saber stopped. Mid flight from being whirled free of the wielder. She sprung forth through the sands at his left and loosed an open-palmed wave through the Force. Sauron was thrown back. A grunt loosing as he fell to the floor and rolled. Picking himself up quickly after with no outward sign of damage. Dusting his clothes as the Jedi called her saber and fell upon him again. This time, however…

"You have some skill." Sauron muttered. A lightsaber snapped into his right hand from the belt of the Witch. A blazing red beam sprung to life and with a heave of their shared body in a looping ring, a circle about as the Jedi fell upon them, Sauron came about and swung the saber up left! The whirling power of which was that of a mighty mace. The Force bloomed in a staggering unleash of darkness that sent the Jedi, wide-eyed, flying through the air once more! Her body twisted in the air and fell with a harsh crash onto the sands beyond. A mountain of sand circled about in a small cyclone. Falling away as it lost all momentum. Revealing the blackened figure of Valdaran pacing nearer.

The Jedi's eyes had shut in pain as her entire body rattled from the sheer...unexpected brute power of such a blow. Only her saber dashing down and connecting with the red one of Valdaran saved her from being cleaved in two. She shook her head. Her long ponytail of hair shaking more shorter strands free to cascade down her brow. Within her mind a howling of words scratched at her skull.

"Shut up!" She rasped! Rising up and beating her closed left fist into the sands and sending a plume rising up about her. Valdaran paused as the wall of specks fell or whirled about stray winds.

"Who speaks to you?"

"None of...your business!" She whirled her head up. Her right eye half shut. Her entire face became an etching of internal pain and struggle. 'Valdaran' hummed.

"They certainly do you no favors. Hiding as a coward."

"Shut up!" The Jedi gnashed her teeth and was up once more. Only this time...a flash! Tendrils of lightning exploded from her left hand's fingers. Sauron caught the incoming tendrils in Vica's red lightsaber. The blue volts struck and coiled. Whilst the Jedi rose up upon shivering legs. Her wild appearance showing bared teeth as stray black strands whirled about her brow from the winds churned from her lightning. Those blue eyes were sharply wide. Her internal struggle quaked at her brow and temples. Until she slouched her head down. Tilting back up a new strength then formed about her.

The blues of her eyes suddenly swirled in yellow before becoming rimmed in orange-red. Her sneer became a crazed smile at the corner's of her lips and the lighting from her fingertips redoubled in sharp sudden power! The dark side blistered and howled! Bellowing through the less seen or heard torrents of the Force. Sauron dug his worn feet into the sands, but felt himself be pushed backwards creating mounds of sand behind either boot. The Jedi's stance rose high and strong. Set shoulders and their weapon held down, aloft at her right.

"There! Much better!" She...spoke. Sauron sensed the change. Her demeanor said as much, but the tonal shift to confident arrogance...all too familiar arrogance at that, spoke to him of something else. Someone else in command.

"I assure you I am no coward!" The being now in control of the Jedi's body announced and reeled their left hand back. Before thrusting it forward again! The lightning burst! Bulges of extra power flowed along the track of either bolt and exploded into Sauron's saber. Throwing his right arm back. The Jedi howled in laughter and dashed upon him. Flinging up into the air to slash downward!

Sauron carried his swung arm into momentum. Twirling about. Falling into a defensive posture Vica's body knew seemingly by muscle memory. The falling Jedi slashed down. Their sabers connected in a furious crash! The Jedi fell to her feet and fell into a craze, intricate, and controlled series of stabs and dashes. Left right, left right! Flurrying at Sauron's flanks. Forcing him back. The Force, however, did not fail him. Neither did his own knowledge of combat. Limited as his experience was, he was able to deflect every, albeit, prodding strike.

Sauron raised his saber, up left across Vica's body. The Jedi struck down and they clashed in a hard crack of blades! Sparks fell between them. Yet, the Jedi pushed down with incredible strength added to by the Force, and moved Sauron not. The Dark Lord trained his eyes upon that of the Jedi's now blistering yellow. They met, and Sauron tilted his head. A flare of his own fire bloomed and the Jedi's expression grew confused, and she slid her saber down and twirled away from Sauron. Holding her yellow blade aloft, pointed at Sauron, as she paced.

"You...call me a coward." The Jedi began...or rather, whoever was using her body. "Yet, I sense another in there. I cannot be a coward if you dare not show yourself."

"Oh, but I have." Sauron retorted. "You speak to me, and not the wielder of this body."

"Hello!" Vica jovially popped into being. Her astral figure made bare for the eyes of the Jedi to see. Vica waved her hand, and the unknown Jedi tilted towards her confusedly.

"I gotta say...it's sort of like looking into a mirror...but not really." Vica mused jokingly.

"Indeed." Sauron agreed with a curt nod. "It would seem we are not alone in sharing a body, Witch."

"No." The unknown Jedi shook her head. "You're not." With a cruel smile, she came to a stop. Then, in place, whirled around in a circle over and again! The sands about the desert spun about, rose, and plumed! Rising high in a Force made storm. Like a great cyclone or tornado the blistering shards of sand swept over Sauron, and he was quick to use the Force to guard his and Vica's shared body. While the sands rose high and became thicker, harsher! The whirling of them loud and abrasive upon his ears.

"Who are you?" The voice of the Jedi called through the storm. Coming as an echo where Sauron could not, by sound alone, divine the origin. The voice itself had become layered. A power, the power behind it resonating.

"You seem to carry great power. I sense the dark side in you, but more importantly, your connection to the Force...is very strong."

"I come from a distant world." Sauron answered.

"You? Or the woman?"

"Me." The Dark Lord assured. "Me and the woman you saw share her body. It is a willing partnership...unlike yours."

"What makes you say that?"

"The great effort the owner of that body made to repress you." Sauron intuited. He sensed no attempt made to deceive him from this being as he answered, nor did it...they say anything in the counter.

"Which means you are an interloper upon her."

"Honestly…" Her voice came with a tinge of laughter. "She only need let me go, and I would! Perhaps you know Jedi? Any among their number I mean?"

"I do."

"Then you will do well to remember the great efforts and pains they will suffer in order to keep one who seeks greater power from attaining it! I made no effort on my part to claim this body when our paths crossed. She forced us together." An ebb of long held frustration slithered from the woman's voice. The source of which from the being within, of course.

"And she? Who is she?" Sauron wondered as the tumult of sand continued unabated swirling about. Distant shocks like cracks of lightning burst in the distant rungs of twisting shards.

"Does it matter?"

"I am curious." Sauron countered. "I am...new to the galaxy. I make a habit of seeking out those who could be of use to me. For that which I am building."

"Ambition! I appreciate that in a Sith...or whatever you may be, or claim to be." The being intuited.

"Very well, it makes no difference. The woman whose body I inhabit is Jedi Shadow, Celeste Morne."

"Shadow?" Vica popped up again and cocked her astral brow. Sauron made no effort to hide her, neither did Vica. As such the being huffed, having heard her.

"Yes, a Shadow. One of the Jedi who were party to something called the Jedi Covenant. A cabal within the Order created to stop the Sith from rising again. I do wonder, considering what you've said, how well that worked out?"

"Poorly." Sauron noted as Vica beamed a mirthless grin. "The Jedi have recently been dealt a great blow by a Sith by the name of Darth Sidious. Though, he has been defeated."

"'Darth?' They're still using that moniker I see." The being nostalgically noted more to themselves. "Still, it is noteworthy that you say both the Jedi and Sith have remained...to an extent."

"Yes. Though, as I said, Sidious has been defeated. There are Sith about."

"Indeed." The being agreed. "I am one of them."

"Which?" Sauron bluntly demanded. Sweeping his worn eyes from right over left as the voice continued to ebb and echo about. The Force, though muddled through the churning of it by the being, helping him seek out the unknown being. The Sith.

"Oh...I have been about for many long centuries. Alas, for four-thousand years I have been forced to rest alongside Morne in Dreypa's accursed Oubliette! That festering snake! So jealous of what I accomplished."

"I assume you speak of your immortality."

"I do!" They chirped. "I'm glad you understand. The Force is a pathway to such things. Boundless in its uses! Through it anything and everything is possible."

"Your name?" Sauron prodded again. To hear then a chuckle from the woman's worn throat, Celeste Morne's throat.

"I am Karness Muur! One of the first Jedi to come upon Korriban! One of the first to take for themselves the mantle, of Sith Lord! Beyond the species of the Sith, the red-skinned aliens, but the true inheritors of the title! The Dark Jedi who were defeated in the Great Schism after the Hundred-Years Darkness as they called it, upon Corbos."

"Muur…" Vica appeared, masking herself from this being.

"You know of him?"

"A little. He's counted as one of the 'big bads.' Lots of information has been lost to the outside galaxy about the Jedi who were exiled after Corbos. The Jedi keep their records tightly kept...well...until recently I guess." Vica shrugged. "Dooku mentioned him in passing when he was training me."

"Having a conversation over there?!" Muur wondered, still cheeping with Morne's voice. Clearly he could not hear, but Sauron's silence spoke volume enough to intuit.

"Of course." Sauron declared.

"Be careful." Vica warned. "I don't know what...but Dooku mentioned Muur was responsible for some kind of...plague or something. I...wasn't really paying attention."

"Fascinating." Sauron nodded, speaking aloud. "Tell me, Muur, why have you been trapped with this Jedi woman for so long? These Shadows, and this Jedi Covenant...perhaps it would make you uneasy to hear they have only just recently been reformed? Under a new mission parameter, but reformed all the same." Silence passed for a long moment. The whirling sands swirling and thrashing continued unabated.

"Hmm…" Sauron hummed as Muur remained silent on. The Force pulled about his and Vica's body. A tense heaviness filled the air as Sauron set Vica's boots into the sand under them, and held her red saber up at the ready. Then, finally came the voice.

"It is a long story. One that began back upon Korriban so long ago. Perhaps I shall find the time to tell it to you, Dark One!" The left! Sauron whirled and just in time as the woman's body appeared through the sands! She came forward and thrust her saber at Sauron's chest. Sauron deflected with ease...too much ease.

His eyes met the crazed eyes of the Jedi Shadow. Watching as their feral grin only grew.

"Perfect!" Unlatching...the sound of something releasing and unlocking. About the Jedi's neck in the split seconds that followed, the golden claws of the necklace came undone, and the jewelry became like that of an insect. Its binds to legs. It turned, skittered up the woman's right shoulder as she woozily retracted herself. It crawled along her extended right arm even as it fell, and then it leapt through the air!

"Wha...what?" Morne, freed from Muur, mumbled. Then the golden necklace fell onto Vica's neck and latched itself tightly around. Sauron lowered Vica's crimson lightsaber as Morne staggered back and fell forward onto her right knee. Trembling, weak and seemingly sick, she tilted hr head up in horrified confusion.

"N...no!"

"Yes!" At last the astral figure of an old man showed itself. A boldly luminous red thing. One could see upon a ragged old body armor and robes about. His face a ghoulish pointed thing. He bore a bald head, but for a great mane of white hair that flowed by some unknown power down his back, while a beard fell only from his chin. The great waving strands like those down his back whirling as unnaturally reddened, and almost burst-seeming pupils stared happily down upon Sauron.

"Your power is great! You don't fight the dark as Morne does! You two shall be subsumed!" Muur howled in an almost deranged manner. His wide toothy grin remaining...until it faltered.

"What?" His intoned aloud. The grin faded somewhat as Sauron stared up at his massive astral appearance.

Then – boom!

Muur roared in what sounded like pain! His arms flew up and blocked his sight as his robes and hair fluttered in the astral winds while a tidal unleash of power through the Force ripped across the sand dunes! The great heaps of which had only just begun to fall from the storm Muur had made, all blew outwards! The central pit, the eye of the storm forming about Vica and Sauron. Morne covered her eyes much as Muur did, but unlike her long restrained Sith partner, she did not howl.

"What have you…!" Muur began, but then his expression fell as his arms did. His eyes widened in...terror. For before his sight came as an oily mass clawing up out of the living body. Though the woman, the being on the living plain of existence did not move. In the astral world between life and death a figure of pure darkness seemed to gush from the back of the human. Their oily skeletal hands gripped onto either shoulder and pull their head and torso free. As a great fire erupted at either side of themselves! The power of which loose a deafening howl as a wrath in the blackness of the voided night. Featureless the body of that like a man appeared and rose about the air. Ports, pits, the blackened spots where eyes should be finally opened. Where fires burned into being and blackened slits bore into Muur's astral figure. The darkened heart, the man, the thing, was set on either side by the fire. He appeared at once as the clit of a Great Eye. Greater but similar to the appearance of his own fiery eyes. The piercing power in the gaze made Muur recoil and fall away while his talisman, the great golden necklace seemed to burn upon the neck it wrapped about, and in that moment Muur seethed in pain.

"This one is mine!" A booming voice barked and the talisman seemed to almost whine in pain before unlatching and falling to the sands. Smoking wisps rose off of the face that had been upon the neck of the living being. The Force, the Dark Side, and something...else repelled the talisman and made Muur burn as it did. His astral figure began to show what seemed like fire upon his 'flesh' and the Sith lord screamed in pain that the unknown power, the dark man repressed for anyone but they here upon the moon to hear.

Celeste Morne upon her knees stared at the sight. Wild locks of black hair fell around her brow and face. Her blue eyes shook as she saw the one who tormented her waking mind, and long endless dreams...she watched him burn. The Code could not stop her from finding the thinnest, barest, and quietest of joys in watching and hearing him scream. Her eyes fell and found the talisman in the sands before the being's boots. Even now she felt compelled to reach out and take it managing, only barely enough, to not do so. Especially as Muur's astral figure fell to his own knees. Hands laid into the sands, disturbing them not, and his astral being seeming to gasp for air as the fires faded along him and the great barreling sands around them finally calmed and fell back to the surface of the planetoid.

"Now," The blackened figure spoke. "Now you shall hear me, Karness Muur."

"Yes...yes I shall." Muur muttered through ebbing pain. He tilted his gaze up as the blackened figure seemed to become more distinct. A skeletal, body and being. Blackened flesh upon their arms. A skull with pointed teeth. A crown upon naked bone brow. A cloak of oily shadows upon them as a fire raged inside the chest. A horror, a figure of evil that made Celeste realize...one darkened master had just been subjected by another. This was no Sith before her, and neither Jedi. Something other, and something...more than potentially, worse.

"I am Sauron. I have walked for countless millennia in the realm of the living. I am older than even you, by countless years in the minds of mortal Men. I seek out those who have come in the intermittent time. Those who have fallen or cling to life in some manner. It has already begun. I have recruited another who has long since passed. Exar Kun."

"What?!" Celeste shivered. Save for a stray glance by the dark being...Sauron, the Dark One did not speak to her or clarify.

"I've heard the name." Muur nodded.

"Then you would do well to hear that Kun has sworn his allegiance. Fleeting as any oath may be among those who take on the title of 'Sith' it is done, all the same. I seek out those who are willing to aid me in the road towards greater power. Already you see it for what it is, as it is, and my journey has but begun. Already your power before me is the ember, and I the flame." A moment of silence to allow Muur to take in Sauron's words. He didn't say anything, and Sauron continued at the last.

"To me I gather those of great enough power to be of use. I see now that you have bound your spirit to your trinket. It shall not work upon that which I inhabit. I am beyond such meager attempts of control. Though, the binding process...that intrigues. We are alike in some ways, and perhaps, if you are smart, you shall last long enough for me to tell you how. Though where you have made a necklace, I, a ring." The body Sauron inhabited raised their left hand. There upon which glowed hot a golden band where carvings etched along its length shone.

"What...is the offer?" Muur wondered at last. And, as he had with Exar Kun, Sauron issued his offer. For Muur to fall in line. To be given great reward for services given in the teaching of the Force as he understood it. To join with his new aspiring mission in the creation of something greater than Jedi or Sith. Allowing for Muur to retain his title, his power and a fiefdom all his own.

"If I should refuse?"

"Then, you shall be destroyed. Think it not within my power to do so?"

"No." Muur admitted. "No, I can sense it, and...I felt it."

"You can't!" Morne at last spoke. Rising to her feet, wobbly as her stance was, she reactivated her yellow lightsaber. "I cannot allow him to escape. Nor you." She focused on Sauron.

"Hey." Vica popped back into sight. Celeste jumped as the astral figure of a woman appeared in front of her. "Trust me, Jedi, I know what it's like to not want to share your body with someone else. Especially a Dark Lord." Vica turned as both Sauron and Muur tilted their heads in their own curious manners.

"Regardless, you should know that what is being offered is not just power. I may be Sith, and you may be Jedi, but what can and will come from this is something greater than either. Tell her!"

"Tell me what?" Celeste asked against her better judgment.

"The Jedi have rotted from within, Shadow." Sauron intoned. "The war that has nearly come to an end, sparked by Sidious, has torn them nearly asunder within and without. The Order shall be remade. Not destroyed. I see much potential in them. As I do the Sith."

"An enlightened figure about the center?" Celeste scoffed. "There is no peace between Sith and Jedi, Dark One. You...you are more dangerous."

"You think you can destroy me here and now, Jedi?" Deafening silence followed.

"If die I must, die I shall." She uttered.

"Ah, how magnanimous, Morne!" Muur spat in a laugh. His own reddish astral figure picking himself up and nearing her with what Sauron and Vica could both assume to be a familiar mocking grin.

"So utterly enfeebled by the Jedi as to not see a pathway to greater power and purpose! Or, worse yet! To see a path and choose instead to fling yourself over the cliff side for righteous cause! How utterly morbidly amusing, and how dully expected of the Jedi Order."

"What do you know of it, Sith Lord?!" She spat and sent a wave through the Force, that did little else but shimmer his ghostly figure and make Muur laugh.

"I am not so indifferent to the Jedi cause." Sauron uttered in a boom that did cause Muur to move back. "Already there are agents within the Order who serve me."

"What?"

"Oh yes." Sauron nodded as Vica smirked and disappeared again. "Indeed the Jedi Covenant as it stands today is mine."

"That…" Morne's gaze turned down. Memories striking her unknown to Sauron. The Draay family...the Jedi of her days Covenant...their lies. What they had done to Zayne.

"That has nothing to do with me!" She growled at last. "I am a Jedi. My own Jedi!"

"Foolish girl!" Muur sneered. "Kill her, Powerful One! Kill her and if you would but bring me to another body strong in the Force, I shall join you!"

"Such sudden conviction?" Sauron intoned as Muur floated back from him, holding his arms out.

"As Exar Kun did before me, what other option is there but to be destroyed here?"

"No you won't, Muur!"

"Silence child!" Muur rasped against Morne. The Jedi in her armor and robes stood her ground. Her fair conviction, and strong beauty something to behold. Sauron, silently, admired her will. That and the power of Muur. One alone they had qualities their own. Together was a mighty bounty.

"A proposition, Jedi?" Sauron's words boomed. Muur again silenced himself though cast a sideways glance of confused, and perhaps, concerned thought. While Sauron's darkened visage disappeared and he once more took full control of the shared body with Vica. Whipping the head back and forth he deactivated the crimson saber and made a show of putting it onto the belt.

Sauron held his hands up, showing either gloved palm. Celeste, her gaze harsh and watchful flicked up and down.

"Even if you don't hold a lightsaber, you're just as dangerous."

"Indeed. You are wise to realize such." Sauron nodded. Dropping his hands to his sides. Showing no care as Morne held her yellow weapon to her own side. Though it was in a more...relaxed manner. Progress.

"You and I will probably never see eye to eye, Celeste Morne. However, if you but allow me to show you all that which has already been built, and what it is I plan on building going forward, perhaps then you shall see the value in such things."

"I doubt that."

"Yet," Sauron intuited. "You are curious."

"What makes you say that?"

"You have not attempted to strike me down."

"I may try here in a moment."

"Then, you will die." Sauron, bluntly assured. Leading to yet another pregnant silence. Morne's eyes shut and the shadow of what must've been an ebbing migraine assailed her. She fought against it, and Sauron sensed whirling emotions surround and flow from the woman. Thoughts and memories he was sure not to know. Confronted, however, with what Sauron said, and offered...it was difficult for one under the best of circumstances and with the clearest of minds to deny themselves the chance of seeing. Seeing it is, whatever it was, that which Sauron willed. His power, and presence was not easily denied, in spite of his manner, demeanor, and outward appearance in the plain between. This much, he understood.

"It would be easier to simply destroy her." Muur mused aloud.

"I shall attend to my own doings as I see fit, Muur." Sauron cautioned as Muur turned to face Sauron's mortal-bound gaze. Vica's eyes shifting to the fires set along blackened slits, once more.

"The sooner you learn this, the better for you it shall be going forward. I shall suffer no deception to plainly evident. Think it not so easy to escape my gaze nor my grasp. If you should do so…" Sauron extended his right hand and the Force along with that unknown power enfolded Karness Muur! His spectral eyes widened and he felt the power grip him tight! Bidding him be restrained in place.

"Do not imagine, Karness Muur, that I am unaware of all deceitful thoughts that fester in the minds of those who have tasted power. Exar Kun, and Sidious before, the Sith are rife with treachery and lust for power. This shall not suffice you enough to defeat or topple me. Alone in the galaxy you shall be hunted by the Jedi, and the quite alive Republic. To betray me shall see you hunted by agents at my behest among their number, and those directly under my command. This I promise you. Or," Sauron released his grip and Muur's specter 'gasped' in a sort of relief. His eyes dashing left to right. Taking in the sensation of powerlessness unfelt in millennia. Even before being bound to his talisman.

"Or, you may carve what domain and power you can cleave as I allow within what shall come. You alone are not the only Sith in my service. Exar Kun is one. So shall come others of equal regard as thee, Muur. The arrogance of every Sith I have met is all but boundless. The great equalizer being the reality of my own power. Do you deny it?" Muur gauged Sauron a long moment. The aged ghost meeting the harsh gaze of Sauron. The Dark Side gnashed and whispered of Sauron's power. Muur, as those come before him could sense it well enough. The focus of darkness had shifted and was laid upon him...it. Whatever Sauron was. The dark was not alone for the Force in raw a state hearkened to that power Sauron brought with him beyond the Force. His spirit was like that of pure flame.

"No." Karness admitted at last. Envy evident in his eyes. "No, I cannot. But, my own desires will not be shackled even in service to another."

"With time we shall discern what allowances can be made. I am eager to learn of your plague." To that Muur's face brightened. A gleam of pride falling upon him.

"You know of the rakghouls!"

"The name, no. The art, yes."

"They are abominations!" Celeste barked at last. "Sithspawn! Machinations to spread disease and death to fill racks of armies for Muur's own uses. By way of that." Celeste tilted her chin to the talisman.

"Any deal with Muur will only allow him to create more rakghouls to overthrow the whole galaxy."

"Then," Sauron began and used the Force to call the talisman up into the air. It floated above his raised left hand and he approached Morne. She took a defensive step back...then managed to control herself.

"Then I propose a counter. To temper his ambition."

"Is this really necessary?" Muur grumbled.

"For now, Muur." Sauron nodded. "Once you have seen what I have to show you, then we can discuss a new body for you. Only once you have seen that which you would be forced to resist should you choose self destruction to continued power. Better then to allow a Jedi to restrain the wildest of your desires." Karness gave an astral sigh. Before throwing his hands up and shrugging.

"Very well! If we must...if Morne agrees?"

Long and thoughtful her blue eyes remained fixed upon the talisman. Three of its spike like legs turned up on one side, and the other three upon the other side turned down. The ghostly ebb of the central light within reaching out. Beckoning those who wielded the Force to take it. Karness Muur's own illusive but tempting power once more calling forth.

Her chest thumped. Morne turned up and met the ethereal fiery gaze of the Dark One. This Sauron. So willing he was to give this...horrible thing back to her. Blunt and willing to destroy Muur. She could allow him to do so. End her mission so long after it began. Then she would be at peace and if Sauron sought to destroy her, so be it.

Yet, curiosity seethed in her mind. The Order once more had a Covenant? The galaxy had been at war by the whim of a now dead Sith Lord? Sauron knew much, and his power...there was a factor to it that was not of the Dark Side. His gaze…the power of his eyes. Celeste at once realized and didn't realize she was called to them, and wanted so desperately to submit her will against them. While the curiosity nipped at her skull. She knew not why. All as her own trembling body felt the familiar pulses of the Dark Side. Fed upon them in days before. Tasted its power before through and because of Karness Muur. A Jedi Shadow could not be corrupted to the Dark Side...unbidden and thoughtless, she told herself this. While silent her bottom lip became bit by her top row of teeth.

Reflected in her blue gaze the golden shimmer of Muur's Talisman.

"If I…" Shakily she began. Her eyes once again meeting Sauron's fire. A slight gasp sounded unheard by all but Sauron and Morne as she gulped in breath. The reason...a tumult of various realities and the shiver of giving in to...to something.

"If I go and I don't like what I see?"

"Then you shall be destroyed."

"And Muur?"

"That remains to be seen."

"I am far more amenable than you, Celeste." Muur promised. He would be, even if for a time, at least. Her mind reeled even then as she realized Sauron said Exar Kun lived! Exar Kun! The great terror from among the Jedi Order's number who had heralded the Great Sith War. He had submitted to Sauron. Karness Muur, in his own way may too. But, he would need be tempered if he could not be controlled.

Yes...Celeste wasn't giving into temptation. She was accepting to be the one to keep Karness Muur in check. Her pulse rose because she was needed to continue to do her duty. To ally with one unknown power against one she knew would be the death of the galaxy. Perhaps even the universe. Death, Muur, or Sauron.

"Okay." Celeste deactivated her lightsaber with a shake to her voice. Her blue eyes wide, and a relief of elation shone through her as she surrendered to her fate. She chose Sauron.

Celeste Morne extended her right arm and the talisman jumped upon it. Skittering up the length of her arm, finding her neck. It latched about it tightly, and the main body of it fell. Pointed towards her breasts as she took another draw of breath and sighed. Karness Muur's reddish hued spirit came once again into her mind, more clearly again. He crossed his arms with a...bemused smile on his ragged face.

"Very good." Sauron nodded. "There are such sights and greater still, plans, to show you both." Sauron raised his right hand and Celeste took it. While in her mind, as an incantation, she reminded herself she was a Jedi! Always had been...always would be.

…

Sauron called a shuttle and upon it came General Grievous. Shocking both new passengers taken aboard by his sight, his manner, and his explained history. While, once in orbit, Sauron ordered a bombardment to annihilate all traces of the shuttle, and as a sign of goodwill to Muur, the destruction of Dreypa's Oubliette. Obliterated in ashen fire as great turbolaser bolts battered the sands to glass and then again to ruin.

Karness Muur, within the body of Celeste Morne would see much. They would learn of all the great histories that happened after Zayne Carrick had placed Morne within the oubliette. The Mandalorian Wars. Revan and Malak, the Great Galactic Wars on into the Schisms that followed. The rise of Kaan and the fall of the Brotherhood of Darkness. The Republic and Jedi victorious and the Sith that followed in the steps of a being scant information yet remained of, Darth Bane. The ultimate failure that was Darth Sidious and the realization of the Jedi Order's prophesied Chosen One.

These things and so much more. Even meeting with Exar Kun and his reformed body and his returned Massassi warriors. To which, the Sith Lord welcomed Muur. A name he knew well. Even so shocked as he had been to see him and the Jedi who bore him. Greater still came the great works being conducted upon Bâlmírdan. The fantastic city being built about the crescent ring of the Seven Brothers, the city of Mardorithil, and the seven mountains that have become the palace of the Great One, Tár-Ostoli.

In the many days...weeks...months and on that followed, both Morne and Muur would see to varying degrees that which lay before them. Sauron would, in the quiet of their shared mind assure Vica that of those who came to him, Muur was least among those who could be trusted. Yet, they had Morne who would grow strong under his supervision, to restrain him...and work alongside him. Both weakened, empowered, corrupted, and humbled. Greater were those things Muur brought to the table.

As Kun brought the Massassi with him, Muur brought the rakghoul. They would be of use.

Especially against the enemies to come.

Thus Muur and Morne came to the service of Sauron the Great. Together as one they were – a Lord who spreads plague, disease, beasts and horror. Indestructible, as so understood, humbled before the new power.

Alike Sauron and Vica in many ways. Yet unalike in just as many. Before them, the New Power of Sauron and Vica, there was no victory. Upon the stone carved floors glimmering and shining underfoot, Celeste Morne bearing Muur, bent her knee before Sauron's grand throne in the heart of Tár-Ostoli. While the ghost within her bent his knee in kind.

So it was, the circle grew.

---

Anakin sat on the quaint little bench that was placed against Frodo's hobbit home. Higher up and elevated upon the mound it stared out into the wide field where the Party Tree remained settled. Within the home behind him he could hear the voices of his friends regaling Padmé with more tales of their adventures here on Arda. The quest had been...odd, he thought. A very strange distraction from the war he and Obi-Wan had been waging. He, his Master and Grievous...and that woman. It was all the same, still strange to think about how far removed Arda seemed compared to the rest of the Clone Wars.

In a way, that made more sense as to why it mattered so much to him and his life, he thought. He took a draw of breath and settled into the Force. His shoulders sunk some and he watched the distant field. Sparks, little lamps of fireflies fluttered about totally at peace in living their very small, simple lives. Along the road that circled the small field a few hobbits could be seen, and heard, moving about.

Daylight had come and gone, and now there was but a faint distant glow of the local star in the western skies. Creating a bluish-green seam where darkness met the fading light and clouds gathered in the air. Another wisp of wind carried itself over Anakin and he found himself smiling simply. Almost soft to the point of melancholy, but never quite reaching there.

As he thought about the Clone Wars, it suddenly seemed all too reasonable to assume Arda had not been planned. Certainly not by Palpatine. In that time he was here, he had discovered the strength to be more honest with Obi-Wan. He met Gandalf and the rest of the Fellowship. All of whom even now remained his friends. From the least spoken between himself and they, to those whom he spent long weeks alongside upon treacherous roads. The rest of them, Anakin hoped, and accepted he could not know the future definitively, but through hope alone he wished for them all to be lifelong friends. From now and until old age came and took him...or otherwise.

"Hmph…" He chuckled softly. Imagining how the 'great' Anakin Skywalker would meet his end? Everyone wanted to go at peace in a bed. As far as he knew anyways. But, as he was sure Gandalf would have reminded him were he here, Anakin knew people didn't get to make that decision. Rarely if ever anyways. No one could know where they would end up. No one could prophecy, in spite of how badly everyone wanted to, what their lives would be or mean, if there was meaning found at all. He certainly began to more and more believe the meaning was in the thing itself. How did one form it? How did one live it? How did one do? The false dichotomy those who didn't understand the Force, the Light Side and the Dark Side. There was the Force and the Dark Side. Light is inherent to the Force, but it's better to say 'goodness' is inherent to it. The Dark Side is the aberration of one's own quality. The reduction of life to base urges. To wake up and feel nothing but the longing to go somewhere and drink or eat yourself into a stupor. To hurt others to make yourself feel powerful and strong. To impose upon them so that you can fleetingly feel something where otherwise the 'darkness' has drained you.

Anakin now began to see. See more clearly than he had in his many long years with the Jedi. They weren't perfect. Now he began to accept that about them. Better still he began to forgive them for those infractions made, undoubtedly without meaning to against him. So too did he begin to forgive himself. As said before, that was the first step, not easy either, but he had managed to begin the process.

What good could he do? Anakin wondered as he heard a roar of laughter inside the home behind him. Pippin's voice was loudly saying something and Obi-Wan was 'chastising' him as the others laughed. Including Padmé. Knowing she with the twins were inside beside a warm fire, bellies full from the kindness of their host and Padmé's tending to the twins...it was strange. There was so much simple joy in that knowledge alone as to sweep away all the pain and hurt he knew was spread throughout the galaxy. Anakin knew one could not let the comforts of one's own life in turn numb them to the suffering of others. Did they not also deserve that fireplace? That home? Their own friends? He thought so. He smiled more strongly than before as his eyes tilted up to the stars. Twinkling in beautiful gleams and glints of white distant light as the stream of the galaxy's cosmic dust shone in hazes of soft color.

It was morbid, returning to his prior thought, but it was morbid to imagine one's end. The pathway towards it was lined with deeds and actions. Even if there was nothing beyond this realm and this world, would it not be better to leave the echo of goodness in your wake? Rather than anger, hate, and contempt? These things...those emotions always seemed now so exhausting. Though Anakin knew never to doubt their allure and power. That word, power. That seemed to be the allure of life. Resisting it was hard because you, always imagined you could use that power to fix all the galaxy's problems. What foolishness. What self-loving trite. It wasn't love for those who suffered why you imagined yourself being all powerful. It was love of thyself, and what you could do for them that made power alluring.

That isn't to say those with power cannot do good. Padmé did, Bail Organa did, Aragorn did. They felt called to service and act. Their minds may think at times of legacies and memory. That was human, or, well, mortal Anakin supposed was the word. It was the basic 'understanding' that one was smarter, braver, stronger, wiser than all others without the ability to accept new thought and experience – that was what made them numb. Turned them from empathetic and willing to do what needed be done to help others. Into the tyrannical who understood they had the answer to all other questions. There was, in effect, nothing left to experience, or discover and explore. They understood it all. The universe entire.

No, Anakin shook his head. His days of imagining he knew what was best for everyone were...he hoped over, but would fight to remember himself in those moments where the old instincts came up. He, like everyone else, was just a man. Better for it.

So, the road to his end… He would do well, he knew, to line it in good deeds. Not just great ones. If he died in his bed that would be...welcome. If he should fall defending others, he would be happy enough for it. If he should fall on a remote world doing something good, it will be enough.

Until then, he just wanted to live as best he could for himself, and now his family.

"Ah, there you are, Anakin." He turned his head to see Frodo come up alongside the bench. Anakin smiled and shifted over. Giving Frodo space to sit at the far left looking out over the rest of Hobbiton.

"Deep in thought, are we?"

"To the detriment of others." Anakin jabbed himself. Causing Frodo to chuckle from his throat. The two nodding absently after.

"Hopefully we didn't cause too much of a stir? I know everyone showing up was probably a lo. Let alone FourDee! Scaring half the Shire as he came with us."

"Ah, it's no trouble. I'm happy to be distracted."

"Really?"

"Hmm." Frodo nodded. "Dark too often are my thoughts. I keep to myself more than I did before. Becoming a bit too much like Uncle Bilbo. Though I understand him more than ever I have."

"You both went on great adventures."

"To the better or worse? I daresay personally it was hard on both of us for different reasons, of course. The world though...better off to have Erebor free of a dragon and Dale free."

"While you helped topple a Dark Lord." Anakin held up a quieting preemptive hand. "In spite of what happened at the Crack. You did your part and went as far as you could, my friend. I couldn't have done what you did. I gave in on the slopes. You made it to the heart of fire."

"I did...we did." Frodo sighed. A soft smile on his pale features. Nodding as Anakin sensed a thought flutter to Sam and the poor thing, Gollum.

"You have gone far too. A heart of fire all your own."

"I'd prefer not to go into any other furnaces, really." Anakin scoffed and caused Frodo to chortle.

"Yeah, I'd say we've all been through it. One way or another. From you and me, to the rest of the Fellowship, my wife...heck my kids!"

"You'll have a tale to tell them when they grow up."

"Maybe I'll make them come hear it from you. Or, read that book of yours!"

"Ah...there is that." Frodo nodded. Though his expression fell, and he averted his gaze. Anakin didn't know for what reason, but kindly chose not to press Frodo on it. Sensing a sort of aversion simmer in the hobbit.

"Say," Anakin changed the subject, so he thought. "I saw your rubbing your shoulder earlier. How's that going?"

"Its had worse days." Frodo intoned. His right hand going to the wound by instinct. Rubbing his thumb along it as it settled. "It hurt worse than ever on the anniversary. Well…"

"What?"

"Oh, nothing I'd say." Frodo shrugged. "A few weeks back it...really hurt! A stabbing pain cold and...piercing as though I was being stabbed once again. It sent me onto my back for the whole day. Luckily Sam came and found me. Helped me into bed and did...as Sam always does."

"Made sure Mister Frodo got better and through it?" Frodo smiled broadly.

"That he did."

"Well, hey," Anakin carried on. "Not to force you or anything, but the Jedi have healers. Members of my Order who specialize in treating wounds of all kinds. Now they're no Elves, I know. But, we have the Force, and technology beyond what is native here to Arda. Maybe we'd help, maybe not. I certainly don't think we'd make it any worse. Just an idea." Frodo nodded. His brow dipping in thought as he leaned back into the bench. Producing from his belt a pipe.

"I...suppose I've just gotten used to the idea of it lasting the rest of my life." Frodo intoned as he packed the pipe.

"You and me both." Anakin scoffed. Though to exactly what Frodo did not know, neither did he ask. Merely nodding. On a level they both understood.

"I've found...trying even against the odds is worth it. Even if just the one time. One shot to see how things go. No promises, and no guarantees."

"Ah, but I am no stranger to that." Frodo mused. "The day I and Sam left Hobbiton and beyond was beset with no guarantee and no promise of success."

"True, and fair enough." Anakin agreed. "When you put it that way, I'd say this is a safer bet."

"You have me there." Frodo chuckled and Anakin joined him. A truly happy, and soft joy of one another's company. Friends musing and chatting.

"Alright." Frodo shrugged. "If it's no burden, I could give it a 'shot.'"

"I'll see you get our best healers."

"No burd-"

"It won't be a burden." Anakin cut him off. "No hush and smoke your pipe!"

"Hmm, pushy, but you have my thanks." Frodo smiled again and did as ordered. Both men, of varying statures, sat in relative silence but for stray thoughts and memories that came to their minds for a time. Comfortable to take in the dimming daylight as night came to the Shire. Both content in one another's company. Both understanding one another from carrying the One Ring upon a happily long defeated Dark Lord.

To, with time, return inside and carry on the joyous reunion with a night of laughter, and some songs until at last Merry, Pippin and Sam would take their leaves as Anakin, Obi-Wan, Padmé and the twins shacked up in Bag End for the night. FourDee looming about watchfully. They had another day to explore the Shire with their friends, new and old.

The road, life, goes ever on, and on.

---

L's Note: the circle grows indeed! Archon, you brought up a good question about the mounting power of Sauron before. All I am allowed to say is that more shall be revealed with time. Take heed! Hopefully all shall come together in the end to a satisfactory conclusion when all is said and done. :)

Thank you all who have continued to review! Lord Kun takes great pleasure in seeing the engagement and continued enjoyment or just general thoughts from the readers. PLEASE continue to do so. Every one of them helps...well minus needless hate, but that is rare luckily.

Also please forgive or point out any and all grammatical errors as usual. This is the biggest chapter thus far in this part, so I am sure, in spite of my efforts, I missed something here and there.

Take care!

-L

Musical inspiration for this chapter brought to you by: Dark Music for Summoning Cthulhu - The Wicked Ones | By: Secession Studios (YouTube)

(Just for fun behind the scenes information. ;3)

Edit Note: Edited/Updated 01/29/2024