Eroica

[Rugs]

No, no, that doesn't make any sense.

Locke grunted as he moved through the thick crowd of people; one of them, a large Bothan, hadn't been watching where he was going and very nearly knocked Locke over was he bumped into him. Worst of all, the big bastard didn't even seem to notice. It's not that dark, bud, Locke groused with a slight backward look as he walked on.

Now where was I?

Something about the leads he was on...

Oh. Right.

Presently, Locke was moving through the capital city of Nivek, a world that was, as far as anyone could tell, eternally shrouded in darkness. Roq was here as well, elsewhere.

They'd come on reports of a very real threat to a prominent pro-Republic politician from one of the world's more shady groups. The problem with it all, as Locke had learned over the past few days was that this particular shady group was a rather powerful shady group. Even worse, this shady group might have had connections to the Sith, which could explain why they were so dead set on taking down the politician.

Maybe. He glanced around casually and then split from the crowd easily, turning to walk down a narrow alleyway in between two low buildings that squatted behind a warehouse. This was the place.

Pinning motives down on the group was proving to be harder than even Locke's tempered expectations had allowed. Getting concrete details of what they were planning had been even harder. Most of the group, like most of the population of Nivek, were Shadowmen. It made infiltrating them via joining much less of a feasible option, if not altogether impossible. He'd stick out like a sore thumb, and if they'd caught wind that Jedi were on the scene to help protect the politician, they'd only be more wary of a new arrival such as himself.

Instead, he'd done a lot of spying and working with local law keeping agencies. Setting up hidden cameras in possible locations of interest, wiretapping, trailing members in disguise... It was exhausting work. He'd made a few joking comments to Roq about trading places, but he wouldn't even if he could. They both had things to do, and Locke was determined to break his case.

He was glad he'd opted to leave Jazen behind for this. True, the boy could've stayed with Roq, but the current investigation was one he couldn't take Jazen on; it was too dangerous for him, who didn't really have any experience with such things. Even for Locke, it was proving to be difficult. He'd had more close calls with getting found out than he would've liked.

Thankfully, they'd made progress over the last few days. Now they had some details on the plan. They just needed a timeline and a way to stop it. The others back at 'base' could handle coming up with that much; Locke was going to keep digging.

It was good that he had. On one of his spying runs, he'd been able to--with a bit of help from the Force--eavesdrop on a conversation between two members of the shady group; two members who worked at the politician's manor, no less. In the process, he'd learned of a meeting taking place where some of the higher-ups would be present.

The two idiots had been captured, of course, and were presently being interrogated, as far as Locke was aware.

In the mean time, he would be sneaking in to spy on the meeting. Two other law enforcement officials would be there, hidden. If all went well, they'd call a raid in once they'd heard what they needed to hear.

And that would be that.

--------------------------

A little while later, Locke was at the place. It was a large building, seemingly abandoned, on the outskirts of the city. Pausing near the door, he took a quick glance at his chrono. Good. He was a little early. That would give him time to find a hiding place and set up some bugs to listen in.

He took a final glance around and, pushing a large door open, slipped inside to find some shadows to melt into.

[Kella]

Roq was meditating.

The Prime Director thought he was sleeping.

But he was meditating.

Even the Prime Director's adviser thought he was sleeping. "So the Jedi sent you their... pet?"

"They assured me he was one of their most capable protectors," replied the Prime Director, even though he sounded unsure.

"When do you think it's going to wake up?" he asked.

But Roq really was meditating. And that's why he could respond with a coy, "To be conscious and to truly be awake to the world around you are two very different things, Commendor."

He opened his eyes and turned a not-to-stern gaze on the adviser. The Graarl rose, his muscles protesting being moved after five hours of stagnation. Such lengthy meditation had allowed him to become deeply entwined with the surrounding Force.

The Commendor remained wisely quiet, deferring to the Prime Director. "Master Roq," he acknowledged, but there was a tinge of reservation in his voice.

"I gave my word that I would protect you, Prime Director," Roq said, gently, "Do not doubt that I will keep my word. Nothing will harm you while I am here. But..." He eyed the advisor, "You should know that your Commendor likes to sneak bites from your plates of caviar on their way in." The Jedi winked, the Prime Director glared at the Commendor, and the Commendor stared at his feet.

"All is going well with the investigation," he said in a reportive tone, "The Knight Locke seems to be nearing a break-through. I'll keep you apprised of any further updates."

The Prime Director nodded his acknowledgment, at which moment a knock sounded. Political matters. Roq took a position to the right of the prime Director, settling onto the floor. There was no indication to the entering politicians that he was anything but an exotic pet. Roq would allow it to remain this way, as he returned to meditating. His main focus was keeping tabs on the underlying intents of everyone present in the room. Even so, the edge of his mind toyed with a lingering connection to the Knight, Locke. If something major were to happen, Roq would be one of the first to know...

[Meira]

The halls were dark, as the Shadowmen preferred. Two guards moved down the passageway, their large yellow eyes aglow and taking in even the tiniest hints of light. their clawwed feet tapped against the hard floors, but no echoes were heard... until one began to speak.

"I still don't get it."

"That's why you're just a guard. You're stupid." His companioned hissed the words as they turned a corner.

"But you're just a guard..."

"I'm in charge of you! It's called responsibility. They give it to us that can handle it. Now shut up and pay attention."

"But you said we was just a dis-"

"I know what I said, you dope! Be quiet! Boss was clear. We do our rounds and we don't say nothing."

The first guard let out a chuckle, but quickly fell silent when his companion's eyes bore down on him. "What's so funny, huh?"

"You said we don't say nothing, but we're saying lots... OWW!"

The two guards turned another corner, trading punches and curses, and continued their patrol.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

At the heart of the building, one room was lit with soft lamps. Still quite dim, this room was sparsely furnished, having only one long table surrounded by chairs. At the head of the table, a stately looking Shadowman sat, elbows resting lightly on the armrests, the fingertips of both hands touching just in front of his face. He tapped them one by one in a fluid motion, over and over; waiting.

Around him, nervous underlings sat, eyes darting back and forth between the one at the head of the table, and the door opposite him. Those closest to this figure dressed in a manner more similar to his, the farther one sat from the figure, the lest costly his garb, the lower his station.

A chonometer on the wall ticked away the time, each tick seemed as loud as a blaster shot, for it was the only sound in the room. Then, suddenly, the door opened and all twenty-two pairs of eyes focused on the being that entered. The disappointment at the sight of the guard was heavy. But the guard moved through it right to the side of the one that sat at the head of the table. He bent at the waist and whispered in his ear. A hand, thin with long clawed fingers waved him away, and the guard exited the room, leaving it once again in silence.

"I believe we've waited long eno-" Neem Kos' voice, icy and quiet as it was, was cut off by the sound of the door opening again. There in the doorway, stood the rather pathetic frame of the man the Shadow Court had been waiting on.

"...enough." Neem finished, his jaw clenching closed in anger. THe man hurried to the last open seat at the table and sat, his eyes cast downward the whole while. There was uncomfortable shifting of seats in the frigid silence that followed.

"Well, Yed? I hope your explanation can attone for the insult of your tardiness. What have you heard from your men?"

"N-nothing, Boss." Yed replied, his eyes darting nervously about the room. "I haven't heard from them in two days." Again a silence froze the room as Neem narrowed his eyes.

"Then my suspicions were correct. No matter. I have adjusted our plans accordingly."

Several of the shadowmen looked up at their leader then, confused. Neem smiled as his hand moved to a control panel on the table. He pressed a button and a guard's voice came through a speaker set into the panel.

"Are your men in position?"

"Aye, sir. We're waiting for your order."

"Good, stand by." Neem released the comm button and slid his chair back to stand. Resting the fingertips of his hands on the table before him, his yellow eyes surveyed his followers.

"Gentlemen," he began. "it is time to put our carefully laid plans into effect. I know that many of you are anxious to be done with this affair. This is expected. Most of you have never ventured into the realm of politics. But I can assure you, in spite of what you might have heard to the contrary, we will move forward as planned. I thank you for your patience, and your trust." He began to circle the table, moving behind the chairs of those still seated.

"It was essential that the full details of our efforts not be known by all of you." He came to a stop behind Yed's chair. His claws gripped lightly on Yed's shoulders as he stood behind him. "Our dear friend has demonstrated how my caution ensures that the mistakes of one do not ruin the plan as a whole." His grip tightened and Yed flinched under Neem's claws. When he was released, he seemed to melt into the chair.

Neem continued to circle the table. "But the time is ripe, my friends, and soon none of you will have need to fear our esteemed... late Prime Director." His circling brought him back to his place at the table, and once again, he pressed the comm button. "On my mark, Captain..."

[Rugs]

{colored speech is to indicate it's being spoken in a language other than Basic}

The old place was quiet. Eerily so. Beyond the sound of his own quiet footsteps and breathing, Locke couldn't make out anything. It was as if the place was dead. It was empty.

No, not quite empty. The Force hummed with the faint signatures of life forms a little further in, but there were none to be seen. Not yet, anyway.

The dimness of the place made it a bit hard to see, but the Force was there to guide Locke, as it always was. So too were the years of experience he'd built up working in similarly unpleasant conditions. Get a feel for the location. Keep to the shadows and move quickly and quietly. That's what he'd been taught to do, and that's what he did now. Large, open corridors were to be avoided, as were bright pools of light unless absolutely necessary. The latter wasn't proving to be much of an issue, though.

The result of Locke's meandering path around the building was that he ended up passing near a garbage chute, or what smelled like one. The Knight's nose wrinkled as he peered through the large square that'd been cut into the wall. Definitely garbage.

He waved at the air in front of his face, trying to dispel some of the rank from around him. His efforts proved futile, but he decided he could deal with the smell for a few moments and reached into one of his coat pockets. When his hand came out, it held a little device in it. A comm, for keeping in touch with Roq--and one that used an encrypted signal at that.

"Roq, this is Locke checking in," he said quietly. He spoke in High Galactic, as he and Roq had agreed would be the language for such communication. The only reason he even knew the language as well as he did was because one of his friends from his youth had thought learning it would be both overly difficult and a waste of time. They'd been right on the difficulty part, but the old tongue had proven to be incredibly useful. Made for an easy code to use when most of the rabble Locke dealt with didn't understand it.

"I've made it to the place. Done a bit of looking around--not much to report on. There are some people here but I've avoided them. About to move in for the bust." The comm went silent for a short moment. "By the way, their garbage smells like a rancor's ass." Satisfied, Locke started to move to where he'd meet the two officers. Then he paused and grabbed the comm again. "Not that I'm saying I'd know what that smells like from experience, mind you. Locke out."

Now the Investigator moved quickly, with purpose. As he moved through the building, he hit a button on his comm that'd send a ping to the other two officials there. Once they got the signal they were to answer with one of their own to let him know they were ready and in position.

He waited as he moved around, slowly getting closer to where he felt the beings gathered deeper in the complex.

Nothing came back.

He waited some more, jumping up to a balcony to hide as he felt the presence of two patrolling guards approach.

Still nothing.

Still Locke moved on, getting nearer to the location where he felt the gathered presences. Where's the answer? He paused, crouched near a corner near where he was supposed to be setting up to move in. They should've made some kind of response by now...

He sent another ping. A few tense moments passed. Unease grew and his stomach twisted into a worried knot. Something was wrong.

Is it on the right frequency? A quick check said it was. Locke brought the comm up to his mouth and, speaking in a near-whisper, sent a message. "Do either of you read me?"

Locke glanced up and down the hall, suddenly nervous. Something felt wrong. But what?

What was going on?

[Kella]

The comm link clipped around Roq's neck blipped. (Come to think of it, that probably added to the 'pet' impression.) "I've made it to the place." Locke's voice was distinguishable, even through the static. "Done a bit of looking around--not much to report on. There are some people here but I've avoided them. About to move in for the bust. By the way, their garbage smells like a rancor's ass." Roq chuckled. "Not that I'm saying I'd know what that smells like from experience, mind you. Locke out."

"Roger that," he replied. "Roq out." It was good to know that things were going well. If Locke's plan went smoothly, the Prime Director might even be free from threat before dinner.

~~~

It is difficult to describe what a disturbance in the Force feels like. Roq likened it to a low buzzing noise, one that edges in on your consciousness, just loud enough to have an effect, but just low enough to linger unnoticed.

Roq became aware of this sensation as he began to pace. He knew himself, and how to fold himself into deep meditation under any circumstance, but it was in movement that his mind became most clear.

He began to search for the source. Mind and body split, the latter automatically maintaining a rhythmic pace, the former wandering the supple ocean of the Force.

There it was. Locke. Something was not right, and it was the sort of not-right that was not-right enough that it was not going to become right without intervention. A dark, eerie shiver.

Locke needed his help.

That is what the Force spoke with absolute certainty. And Roq had learned not to ignore the Force.

He brought his mind back to the throne room, catching the eye of the Prime Director.

"I must leave." Roq unfurled his wings.

The Prime Director straightened; he was about to say something he thought would sound authoritative and intimidating. But Roq was not intimidated by political position. He'd once been good friends with the former Supreme Chancellor.

"I know what it is you are about to say," Roq said, and the Prime Director closed his mouth. "But this will cause no breach of security." The Commendor looked doubtful.

"The danger is not here. It is elsewhere. But..." He eyed the Commendor, "If you like, I could always stay here," his tone was reasonable, rather than sarcastic, "while the malevolent are allowed to gather strength and number, before they bring the danger here, at such magnitude that halting it will be a gargantuan task, and the difference between victory and utter destruction balancing on the edge of a knife." Roq used his best thematic voice, which was really one of the best thematic voices, as Graarls are excellent mimics.

They say it's all in the presentation. Some just needed a little extra... oomph to get the point through. The Prime Director nodded solemnly, and even the Commendor looked resigned.

"I understand," the Prime Director said, "You must go."

"You have made a wise decision," Roq said. "Remember what we have discussed, and you will be safe."

The Prime Director nodded.

Roq turned and sprinted out of the throne room, talons sparking on the cold stone floor.

~~~

The air was split by stark stripes of hot and cold. Roq rode the thermals, pillars of heat that originated deep beneath the planet's surface. He slipped off of one column, gliding downward until another snapped air into his wings.

This was a strange planet. A thick blanket of ash shrouded the entire world in an eternal night. Normally, such planets quickly died, so isolated from the source of all energy. But this one had found another source of energy -- the heat that oozed and erupted from the molten core.

Perhaps it would be inspirational, if not for A) the dark, violent pit it had become, and B) the very volcanoes that sustained the planet were the ones that deprived it of the sun.

Roq tracked his progress by the Force, rather than sight, as he usually did. He couldn't exactly take advantage of his raptor-like vision when there was no light to see by.

But he wasn't blind. Roq tucked his wings, giving in to the gravity that drug him towards the surface. His felt the scape of the air with his wings. It wasn't something inconvenient to see through, it was what he used to see.

He snapped his wings out, skimming just above the low black buildings. Or maybe they were brown. Or Pink. He couldn't really tell.

There. Roq alighted upon a tarred roof -- he could feel the texture under his palms. Artificial light leaked from the building next door. He could sense Locke's presence. It lay low within the building.

Puffs of air whiffed across the roof as Roq returned to flight, circling the building. He needed to meditate. Locke was smart. If he was in trouble, there had been a trap, and a clever one, at that. So Roq let his mind wander from his body again as he circled. He reached out, gathering as much as he could about the building and what lay with in and -- most importantly -- attempting to establish a connection with Locke.

But time had passed since he had first felt the disturbance. Precious time. He hoped he had not lost too much.

[Meira]

The quiet of waiting was suddenly nothing compared to the quiet that held the collective breath of the Shadowmen seated around the table. Their leader, poised at his position of honor and towering over his seated followers, allowed a smile to play across his face. His large, yellow eyes glowed in the dim light of the room. All were in position, all were ready.

"Take him."

---

While some beings created technology to aid their weak eyes in the night, and others tapped into a special power, the Shadowmen knew darkness like their own skin. They were exellent hunters with finely attuned senses that needed no artificial, or magical assistance. Darkness was their element.

A particularly skilled group of such stalkers laid in wait throughout the compound where their leader was holding his meeting. They watched as a lone figure stalked through the shadows, as if he could hide in them. He was a skilled target, there was no doubting that, but they were ready.

As their prey came to a stop in a corner, crouched low, prepared to spring a bust he did not know was already foiled, they watched. They watched, and waited.

"Take him."

As one, they moved. Skill and practice made the motion of opening the electric net second nature; easy as breathing. They appeared from all directions and the nets were thrown, their electric current activated upon contact. A pull of the cords and the nets were closed, their catch ensnared and convulsing. For good measure, the butt of a rifle found the back of Locke's skull and the Jedi ceased moving.

"I thought they were supposed to be harder." one said, smiling to his companion as he knelt to lift the body.

"They trust too easy. Boss has a long arm. The Jedi should have picked his men more carefully." the other replied as they began their return.

---

The door to the room opened and once again all eyes turned to witness the entrance of two hunters and their catch. The Jedi was deposited on the table, still unconscious. The hunters were dismissed and the room fell to silence once again... until one member at the table found his voice.

"What is this?" he asked, hand gesturing at the man in the net.

"This, my friends, is a Jedi." Neem circled the table, stopping along the side to lean in and study the man. On his belt was clipped the iconic weapon of the Jedi order. Neem took the hilt of the lightsaber, studying it in his hands as he moved back to his seat. He set the lightsaber on the table before him and leaned back in his chair, satisfaction clear on his face.

"But," that same voice spoke up again, "you promised us the Prime Director..."

"That I did. But as you can see," Neem gestured at the Jedi on the table, "this one thought to interfere. I told you I had to adjust our plans, but do not doubt that very soon our dear Prime Director will lie before you as this one does now. A stone in our path, that is all this one was. But now that he has been removed, we can continue wi-"

The comm on the table sounded and was followed by a guard's voice. "Sir! There's.... there's something here!"

Neem sat back straight in his chair and pressed his finger to the comm. "What do you mean something?"

"I don't know sir. One of the men said he saw something in... in the air."

"And what do you see?"

"I'm not sure, sir."

"Then find your eyes and figure it out!" Neem's voice was full of aggitation. He released the comm button and sat back heavily. The silence returned as he pressed the tips of his clawed fingers together in front of his face. What now?

[Rugs]

A solitary drip of sweat formed on Locke's brow. There it hung, glinting dimly in the dull lighting of the dark, dank corridor before finally falling free and splattering on the floor. What's going on? Why aren't they answering? He cast long, wary glances either direction down the corridor to be sure he wasn't being snuck up on. He saw nothing. He felt nothing.

"What the hell could've happened to them?" A hand went to the cold, rough stone wall behind him and held there as he adjusted himself and steadied his weight. Everything suddenly felt off, felt wrong. Those men he'd chosen to accompany him were good. They were veterans of many similar operations in the past; this one was just to be another in their storied careers. If something happened to them... His stomach twisted again and his mind raced.

Had they misstepped? Could it be that they'd never truly been in control of the situation, as they thought themselves to be? No, that can't be right. But how then? Where were his men, and why weren't they answering?

He considered calling back to Roq. Yes, get word back to base that something had gone awry. If they were quick and clever, they could get some more men in to help with the job the two officers were supposed to be handling. Perhaps he could even handle the raid on his own, but it wasn't something he was willing to risk, not with the stakes about as high as they could be for the future of Nivek and its people. He switched the comm to Roq's frequency.

A warning flared in the Force.

Locke started at the suddenness of it, looking this way and that. But the halls were dark and it was too late for him to see the traps approaching him.

The first of the nets took him from the left. His head whipped around suddenly as his hand instinctively dropped to his lightsaber. It was too late. Electricity surged as the wretched thing closed around him. Locke muscles contracted of their own accord and the final, desperate motion was lost in a wave of pain and confusion. Another net hit him from the opposite direction, and then another from the front and another from above.

A loud, wretched yell issued from Locke's throat as his body was wracked with pain. His struggle to free himself began a comedy of convulsions as he fell over onto his side. The comm fell loose and clattered away as it hit the smooth floor.

The Force's comforting presence was gone, impossible to reach in the chaos that'd settled over him and shattered his focus. His senses were dead, and even if they weren't, he wasn't listening to them. And it was that he did not notice the shadowed approaching him from behind, rifle held like a club in his hands.

There was a crack! and a blinding explosion of pain in the back of his skull.

And then the world went black.

------------------------------

He heard the voices, but he did not understand them.

He was aware that he'd been moved somewhere different, even if his mind could not fully comprehend the fact.

His entire body ached and his head felt as if it were full of some thick paste. His eyes fluttered open for a moment, but he lacked the energy to keep them that way. It wasn't like the world beyond his eyelids made any sense anyway, all dull and spinning like he was in some sort of fever dream.

As Locke lay there on the table, just barely clawing at the edge of consciousness, he groaned.

[Kella]

The building assembled itself in shaky, hazy lines, as if the ethereal hand that drew them was wrought with palsy.

A light with the same shifting, blinking quality of a candle's flame hovered within the center. A Jedi's light. Locke's light.

Roq's eyes snapped open, the ghostly shapes disappearing in a wash of black. He twisted his tail, the fin catching the air like a rudder and slicing a turn.

A slight rustle of wings and click of talons were the only indication that the Jedi had landed.

"Hey, whozzat?" called a shadowman guard.

A low, plaintive meow came from the corner.

"Jus' a cat, you idiot," said another.

If would have been an excellent coincidence, if it had been a coincidence.

"Pssssssst, Sirs, I have something that is of much interest to you," A soft, feminine voice called from the alley, with all the allure of a plush spring orchid.

"Hey! Who, eh, who are you?"

"Come closer, I can't talk here."

"We an't supposed to leave our posts," the second said suspiciously.

"Oh," the voice said, sounding conflicted, "Whatever am I going to tell Neem if I don't get him what he asked for..."

A moment of silence. "Alright, Juck's going to come get it."

"No I am't," Juck said, "You go."

Another moment of silence. "Juck and I's going to come get it."

"Oh good," said the voice, "Oh thank you."

The two guards walked towards the alley, peering within. There was a sudden whoosh, three thumps, then silence.

A silence broken by the pop-crackle of a comm. "Juck, you missed your hourly check-in again."

Roq examined the comm. It was standard. The Force grabbed the small 'Talk' button, depressing it.

"Sorry, sir," Juck's voice said. "All's well, Sir."

"Juck, you're not going to get another promotion by calling me 'sir', so cut the crap. You see anything odd?"

"Nothing, Sir."

"Nothin' flyin' around?" The Graarl frowned slightly.

"Just a bit of a shadow, but nothing more."

"You see anything else, call in. As you were."

Roq left the unconscious guards behind, and approached the door. A keypad lock provided some obstacle, but all it meant was that Roq would need to get a little... physical.

He sized up the door. Hollow, comprising two metal plates. Like many of the city's doors, it was built to keep the odd unwanted guest out, as cheaply as possible.

Roq rocked his weight onto his back-legs, pressing his taloned fore-feet against the cool metal. Slowly, so as to induce only the quietest protest from the metal, he sunk his talons through the outer plate. Now, in many ways a part of the door, he could feel it, send the Force into it, to explore its mechanisms. A click, a prod, and Roq shoved the door quietly aside, and once having slipped through the doorway, slid it shut again with a touch of telekinesis.

The aforementioned door manufacturers had not counted on Graarls being among the unwanted guests.

Now in a hall, the Roq became closely attuned to the vibrations that trickled through the metal. There were footsteps far more... energetic than could be attributed to business-as-usual. He suspected that his intrusion was not entirely unknown, and as the uneasy rustle drew closer, the Graarl's guard rose higher and higher...

[Meira]

The Jedi on the table groaned. Neem's eyes remained fixed on his fingers. The chrono on the wall ticked away the time, alone in the silence. A cough here, a rustle of movement there. Time was silent, but it filled the room. Finally, the comm broke to life.

"Sir, there's an intruder!"

Neem sat straight, his back rigid as he pressed the button to respond. "Another Jedi?" His voice remained icy cool.

"We don't know, we just found Juck and Rugs. There's a door with claw marks in it..."

Neem's eyes narrowed. His jaw tightened, and he spoke through his teeth. "Continue your patrols."

As he sat back in his chair once again, Neem produced a small device from an inside pocket of his jacket. Mere moments after pressing a button on the device, the doors to the room opened again. All eyes turned, and some widened, at the sight of the being that entered.

M'xael was huge, having to stoop to lower his seven foot frame through the door. What's more, he had to tuck down his wings to fit them through as well. The S'kytri's wings added nearly another two feet to his height. His musculature, which was considerable, belied his lighter-than-expected weight. His skin, a near midnight blue, seemed to suck even the dim light from the room. His hair, a pitch black, was shaved along either side of his scalp, leaving only a line which was molded so that it stood straight in a warrior's crest. His attire was sparse, consisting of a leather wrapping around his waist, held in place by a heavy, studded belt. Each bicep was encircled by a dark gold band. One of his clawed hands gripped what appeared to be a tall staff, which was near level with his forehead.

"Neem." M'xael's voice was a deep growl, the word rumbled from his chest, escaping his mouth through jagged teeth.

"It seems your services are needed after all." Neem replied, seemingly unaffected by M'xael's presence as all the others at the table were.

M'xael responded with little more than a grunt. He approached the table and filled his hand with the collar of the unconscious Jedi. Pulling Locke behind him, he turned, flexed his wings, and ducked back out the door. Neem, smiling, activated the comm once again.

"Yes sir?"

"End patrols. All guards are to take secondary positions. Comm traffic is to be kept to a minimum."

"It will be done, sir."

Once again, Neem sat back in his chair. His face contorted into a smile as he produced a handheld comm from within his jacket. Holding it to his ear, he waited, then spoke.

"Move in." Neem stowed away the handheld comm just as the doors opened and two dozen guards entered the room. Standing, Neem nodded his head to those at the table. "Gentlemen, when next I see you, we will be toasting to a new Nivek."

With that, Neem strode silently from the room, the two dozen guards creating a wall of shadowmen around him. When the door closed behind them, those at the table were left with nothing more than the chrono ticking away the time on the wall, and the confused faces of each other to turn to.

---

The comm blinked and the head of the unit held it to his ear. Fourteen eyes watched him expectantly for a few moments. The comm was deactivated, stowed, and the head of the unit gave a slight nod. All eight shadowmen, elite hunters hand picked for this task, began to move across the roof of the Prime Director's palace.

[Rugs]

Where...?

Locke's eyes fluttered open again. He saw shapes, dark and blurred and spinning slowly in ways that were unnatural.

His eyes closed again.

The Knight felt as if he should know where he was, felt as if he should know what was going on, but he couldn't. All he knew was a splitting pain reverberated endlessly through his skull. His body was sore, for some reason. It ached and protested as he tried to tall parts of it to move, to act. Instead he got small, sluggish shifts and a worsening of the dull fire that pained him so.

"Another Jedi?"

He made another noise, a soft sound somewhere between a groan and a whimper. Jedi... Another Jedi... Why was it so hard to think? It hadn't been a few minutes ago, had it? Again his eyes opened. Everything was still blurred and spinning, and his head continued to throb and throb and throb. It was getting harder to keep from slipping back into unconsciousness.

There were a number of men in the room. Locke didn't remember coming into a room with a bunch of men. Could they be allies? No, probably not allies. Enemies, then?

Think, think....

He started to work his tongue in his mouth, trying to will it into forming complete thoughts, or at least something that wasn't an unintelligible grunt. The act was proving to be a bit more difficult than he'd expected.

"Who..."

They all looked in one direction. Why would they...? Suppressing the urge to sigh, Locke started trying to turn on the platform or table, or whatever it was he'd been dumped onto. First he tried to move his arms, rotate that way. Except there was a problem, in the form his arms being tied together at the wrist by... something.

That wasn't something friends did. Not normally, anyway. Enemies, then. But why was he held like this? Could it be that he'd been captu-

Out the blue, a hand grabbed him by the front of his shirt. He was pulled from the table, hit the ground with thud and a soft grunt, and then the... something started to drag him away. Now everything was only worse, as if he'd not been disoriented enough. Locke craned his neck up to look at the great beast of a creature that was carrying him, but he couldn't make out much. Just a great, muscular forearm in front of his face, and the blurry form of something... very large.

Fear, faint and subtle, rippled through his mind.

He tried to struggle as he was taken away, out of the room, but not being able to move his hands made it rather difficult. It didn't help that he was still weak and weary, trying to fight off slipping back out of being conscious. Still, he managed a bit of movement as they passed into a corridor.

He even managed the strength to get some words out.

"Hey... let me go."

[Kella]

Roq reached out in all directions with his mind again, one more in a periodic string of such checks. This time, however, something was different. A group of men, moving too high above his head to be within the facility -- so, on the roof -- in a very purposeful way. Towards the capitol. Where Roq had left the Prime Director.

That was very not good. Roq's mind reeled through the numbers. He had looked over the map just this morning, and it still glowed vividly clear in his memory. Forty-five minutes. He had forty-five minutes to find Locke, escape with him, get him to a safe place, catch up with the shadows, and stop them. Give or take.

Well, things certainly could have been better. But they'd been worse before, and Roq wasn't overly concerned. Some might have considered it classic Jedi pride, but is it pride to think you're the best shot in the galaxy, when you really are the best shot in the galaxy?

Locke had not remained stationary, and was, in fact, moving towards Roq.

"Hey... let me go." The voice was definitely Locke's, though still distant.

The Graarl dropped all pretense of surprise for the sake of time, and suddenly sprinted down the hall, weaving towards the sound. His talons clanged loudly against the metal, but speed had become much more important than preventing collateral damage.

After making a series of sharp, curt turns, the corridor opened into a larger room, which provided a hub for a series of branching rooms and halls. What Roq saw made him suddenly brake, a lack of traction sending him skidding for a handful of yards into the mouth of the room.

A very large Sky'tiri stood, holding Locke by the collar.

How expected, since Roq had learned to expect the unexpected, and generally counted on being surprised, which meant he wasn't really surprised at-- actually, it was easier to just say that seeing a very large Sky'tiri holding Locke by the collar, here on Nivek, was both surprising and unexpected. Though, not intimidating. Well, maybe a little intimidating. But only a very small little.

"Well," Roq said, sounding a little bit surprised but not off-put, "Hello there. If you wouldn't mind -- or even if you would -- I would like my friend back, so that I can leave." His voice was at once irrefutably commanding and utterly amicable. He weaved a bit of the Force into his words, casually gesturing with the tip of his right wing. He always started of with the, this-isn't-the-confrontation-you're-looking-for tactic, to see if some tussle could be avoided. Though, to be honest, he'd never actually gotten it to work...

[Meira]

((OOC: Rugs, if the treatment of Locke is more than you'd like, let me know and I'll edit))


M'xael was silent as he dragged the Jedi through the halls. His mind, though not entirely suited to the task, was concentrating on the surroundings. M'xael's strength was less in the sense and mysteries of the force as in the physical manipulations of it. So it took considerable mental effort to cast his seses out to detect any coming danger. So when the Jedi he was carrying spoke, it broke that delicate concentration.

"Hey... let me go."

The S'kytri's forward prgression stopped. First, he loocked down at the Jedi, then slowly, lifted the man up in front of him until the little creature's feet dangled above the floor and the two were eye to eye. M'xael's upper lip curled back in a snarl, revealing the jagged yellowing razors that were his teeth. He contemplated biting the little Jedi's nose off, but instead gave a simple reply.

"No."

Just as he did, a series of noises alerted the Sky'tiri to an approaching danger. M'xael remained still until the figure suddenly appeared ahead of him, skidding to a stop. M'xael lowered the Jedi then, clearing his field of view to better see this new arrival. For all the sound it had made, the creature was surprisingly small. Though, it stood on all fours, so such a thing as height was somewhat misleading. The beak and the claws, however, those seemed pretty straight forward. It seemed this Jedi had a pet.

"Well," it said, and M'xael's eyebrows raised in slight surprise. A pet that could talk.

"Hello there. If you wouldn't mind -- or even if you would -- I would like my friend back, so that I can leave." It's wing moved and M'xael could feel that subtle nudging at his mind, that sudden-yet maybe it was always there?-notion that the words he was hearing were good ones, words he should listen to. Not a pet. A Jedi.

The laughter started deep within him, a rolling of thunder that resonated within his ribcage. It surface more akin to a growl than laughter, but his dark lips were pulled back in a malicious smile as he stared down this new Jedi. M'xael was never known for his intelligence, but he wasn't quite dumb enough for that to work.

But at least the little man-Jedi would get his wish. M'xael dropped him to the ground. With one clawed foot and just a little help from the force, M'xael pushed his back, sliding along the floor until he collided with the wall. Taking a tighter grip then on the staff he held in his other hand, M'xael flexed out his wings, then curled them back up behind him again as he took his stance between the two Jedi. The staff, now taken up in both hands pointed out toward the creature that wasn't a pet. Baring his pointed teeth, the S'kytri emmited a true growl.

[Kella]

Roq sighed when the bulky Sky'tiri laughed. Well, it was worth a shot. He winced as the man dropped Locke, and did what he could to cushion the blow, especially when Locke was thrown towards the wall, which elicited another wince.

But now it was time to get serious. Sort of.

The Sky'tiri growled.

"I don't suppose that means, 'I've seen the error of my ways, and will be giving your friend back now?' ... No? Alright, then," Roq echoed the growl. Mirrored it. Perfectly.

"How's that? Communication? Splendid."

Roq launched himself forward, preceded by a swift push in the Force, course (for now) sent on colliding with the Sky'tiri's stomach, and hopefully knocking the wind out of him, all the while, of course, avoiding that rather lethal looking staff...

[Rugs]

The dragging stopped. For a few fleeting moments, Locke thought that his request, pathetic as it was, actually might have worked. But that would be crazy. There's no way...

He felt a pull on the front of his robes, and then felt himself getting hoisted up by the massive being that held him. The pressure of his clothing pressing against sore muscle made him groan softly; there wasn't much he could do about it though. Unable to resist, he simply went up until he felt his boots leave the ground, and went still upwards after that. A pair of dark, beady eyes were there to greet him when the giant beast of a... thing stopped lifting him. Were Locke's head a bit more clear, he might've recoiled from the look of the beast, or the decidedly dangerous looking teeth that were being so graciously bared for him.

Were his head more clear, he might've made some smart-assed comment. Maybe getting electrocuted and clubbed over the head hadn't been all bad.

"No."

Well... alright then, he thought. Outwardly, he only put on a weak little grin and nodded his head. Didn't want to give the mean beastie reason to bite his head off. Not yet, anyway.

The sound of something sliding on the floor caught Locke's attention. His head drifted round to the source, and there he saw a large, scaly, beaked gryphon-thing. His mind was still foggy from the pain left over from the blow to the back of his head, and for a few moments he wondered if he was seeing things right. What in the hells is that?

It spoke.

Maybe they'd drugged him while he was unconscious.

Suddenly, he felt himself falling toward the ground. His feet hit, and then his legs folded and he collapsed in a heap. Not a moment later, he felt claws press against him and a feeling of being shoved. The room blurred for a few moments. He was moving, skidding across the floor...

Then his back hit the wall, and none too comfortably. Some of his breath was pushed from him in a soft grunt. A sharp sting of pain ran through one of his wrists, which was caught between the rest of his body and the rough stone behind him on impact.

Locke simply let the side of his head fall to the polished stone tile beneath him and sighed. What a day. As if the bust falling to hell wasn't bad enough, now he was stuck with two weird winged beasts.

"I don't suppose that means, 'I've seen the error of my ways, and will be giving your friend back now?' ... No? Alright, then."

Wait a minute... Squinting, Locke picked his head up and actually looked at the quadruped with wings. Something in his mind clicked.

"Roq!" He said the word without thinking, with more strength than he'd spoken with since he'd been ambushed. If Roq was here, that meant there was hope. That meant he had a chance to be freed. A bit of hope began to swell in his chest.

Maybe, just maybe, things weren't so dire as they seemed.

[Meira]

The Jedi echoed his growl, causing the S'kytiri to snarl ever more ferociously as tensed his muscles for action. Then the beast came, charging with claws and beak poised for attack.

"Roq!"

The man-Jedi's voice caught M'xael's attention, causing his focus to slip as the wave of force energy sent by the other Jedi collided against him. The blow broke his stance, causing M'xael to step back twice, but he dug the claws of his feet into the floor, making his stumble something more of a slide until the effect of the attack subsided. This, of course, left him less prepared as the winged Jedi closed, but M'xael managed to side-step the creature, swinging his staff around to try to land a blow to the beast's spine.

Frustrated by the way the man-Jedi had distracted him, M'xael's growl rose to a roar and he lashed out with a push through the force of his own. The winged Jedi had managed to get between M'xael and the man-Jedi, he could not let the two escape. He charged closer, leaving no time for the two to attempt anything but defend as he brought the staff around again in a vicious swipe.

[Kella]

Roq skimmed under the Sky'tiri, and just barely slithered past the first blow, feeling the wind of it on his tail. The Force push caught across the rump, and rather unprepared, but instead of resisting it he let it push him around to face the Sky'tiri, wings flaring for balance.

"Hoh," he cocked his head, "Now isn't that interesting." Roq had been rather distracted from the Sky'tiri's Force sensitivity until it had made itself quite known.

Roq's eyes followed the staff as it wound for another strike. "Incoming!" He skittered backwards, using the Force to orient himself with Locke. With timing only a Jedi could manage, Roq ducked, suddenly flat to the floor as the staff whistled over his head. Roq grasped the force again, this time pushing soundly against the staff as it swung, in an effort to knock the man off balance. Taking advantage of any time gained, and prepared to spend the energy on a shield if necessary, Roq ducked towards Locke, pushing under his abdomen.

"Not exactly a feather, are you," he quipped. With some telekinetic finagling, the human was draped across his back. Roq turned back to the Sky'tiri, ready to bear the brunt of whatever that spent time had cost him...

[Rugs]

Locke watched from the ground as the battle begin. His senses were starting to return to him, slowly but surely. He could feel the Force as it was thrown by the massive Sky'tiri, could see the effects as the push spun Roq around.

He wanted so badly to help, but the return of his senses did not mean he was yet able to fight. Pain still rippled through his skull, his muscles still ached from the electrocution. Even if he could join the fight, he'd be far from top form. If I even had my lightsaber... Definitely a problem. It was back in the meeting room, unless the Sky'tiri had taken it when the left...

Wait... Locke pushed on the ground with his feet to tilt himself onto his right side. There was something in one of the pockets of his coat, small and cylindrical. The second lightsaber. A Sith Lord's lightsaber at one point, but his now. If I can just get to it. But with his hands still bound behind him there was no way he could do that.

He looked back up to see Roq ducking beneath a rather vicious strike from the Sky'tiri. He heard the whistle of the staff as it parted the air above them both. Then Roq turned and started to heave Locke up onto his back, using the Force as he was able to help.

"Not exactly a feather, are you?"

Locke huffed a chuckle. "Could always be heavier." As he looked up, he saw the Sky'tiri again. Looming over them. So now he wasn't left completely open, draped over Roq's back as he was.

But he was still pretty helples.

"Hey," said he quickly to the tall winged man, hoping to catch his attention for a moment, "are you sure we can't just talk this out?"

[Meira]

M'xael, being as large and strong as he was, had never gotten used to being pushed around. He'd always been the bigger and stronger one. He'd always been the one doing the pushing around. So it could be understood that when the beast-Jedi pushed him around now, for the second time, M'xael was enraged.

His staff had been taken up for a moment in the influence of the beast-Jedi's manipulation of the force. Its momentum continued longer than M'xael had provided for, pulling his arm back before the staff was released from that manipulation. The sudden loss of momentum now sent the staff falling with gravity. M'xael had to compensate through his stance, costing him time. His teeth bared his anger as he brought the weapon back fully under his control and turned to see the beast-Jedi hoisting the man-Jedi onto its back. He could not let them escape.

The man Jedi started to speak, but M'xael's next growl drowned his words out as he whirled the staff around until the top end face toward the two Jedi. With a slight manipulation along the grip, the short lightsaber blade sprang to life, casting the dimly lit corridor in a deep red light. But no time was wasted. The Jedi had lowered his guard to help his companion, now was the moment to strike. With a blinding quickness, M'xael lunged forward, blade aimed straight for the beast's heart.

((Another short one, sorries. But I'm sure once we get this outside, we'll have more room for longer posts in our epic sky-battle royal!))

[Kella]

((ooc: Took some liberty, hope 's all okay. X) If not, do let me know, and I'll get it taken care of toute suite.))

The Sky'tiri did not want to just talk it out. Roq had already established this, though, he couldn't fault Locke for trying.

Roq had no time to be surprised as the plasmic blade leapt towards him. This was the plane of the Force, where without thought one made the most thoughtful decisions, where without meditation one made the most focused maneuvers.

The leading edges of Roq's wings snapped together in front of him, and he felt the impact of the blade. But instead of burning the flesh, it glanced off, with a flash so bright the bones in Roq's wings stood out in stark relief.

Ray was a power known by few and mastered by Roq, a necessity when one had nothing but their own body against a blade of superheated matter. Wasting no time, Roq turned and began to dart toward the door, keeping the broad surface of one wing angled at M'xael, prepared to take further attack.

Roq raced down the hall, wings inline but not furled. They were going to have to take to the sky, and the same adaptation which allowed the wingstruts to be slightly soft and pliable wen furled -- to avoid breakage -- meant there was a delay before they were actually usable in flight.

The few minions curious -- or misfortunate enough -- to be in the hall were caught quite unawares by a buffeting pulse of the Force, which dispatched them quite effectively.

"Well, he's full of surprises," Roq muttered to Locke. "Is it bad that I was utterly unprepared for a force-and-lightsaber-wielding-giant-flying-lizard-man, or a compliment that despite that we're still alive? For now."

Finally, Roq broke out into the night, knowing the Sky'tiri was only a moment behind. He let Locke slip to the ground, testing his wings. Not quite. Roq noted the human's bonds and accurately clipped them with a single snap from his beak. Roq stretched his wings to their full width, holding them high and shaking them out. They were almost solid -- he heard the thundering footsteps -- just another moment -- saw the looming shadow -- there!

Roq hooked his claws around Locke's shoulders and pushed off with a mighty leap, heaving them both into the air. He could feel the Sky'tiri's assault barely miss him, and Roq poured his muscles into becoming airborne, ignoring the moment of searing pain that accompanied using his wings prematurely. He caught Locke's hips with his rear talons, carrying the human's body parallel to his own. With a few more wingbeats, the two Jedi had taken to the sky.

[Rugs]

It seemed that the big winged monster currently wasn't in much of a mood for talk. Locke sniffed with feigned offense. "Fine then. But don't say I didn't give you a chance wh- EEH!"

The Force warned him about the danger before he ever saw it. It sounded proverbial alarms in his mind the moment before a red beam of energy erupted from the end of the Sky'tiri's staff. Locke recoiled--as much as one can recoil when bound and hunched on a gryphon-Jedi's back--trying to get away from the saber's blade before it could burn into him. Fortunately, there wasn't any need. Roq was there, of course, and being under the protection of one of the members of the Council certainly had benefits. Roq already had a list in Locke's mind.

Presently, the Investigator added not being skewered by a lightsaber to that list.

"Yeah, see," Locke taunted smugly, grinning at the big Dark Jedi or Sith or whatever the Sky'tiri was, "you don't scare us. We have magi- ah!"

This time it was Roq that cut him off when he suddenly took off down the hall, with a rather surprised Locke still stretched over his back. Surprise only lasted for a heartbeat or two though, quickly replaced a sense of thrill as adrenaline started to flood into Locke's system. If nothing else, all the thrills and surprises were doing wonders for clearing his head up.

Which probably only meant he'd have a splitting headache later, when all was said and done. But for now, he could feel himself getting better. He could feel the Force draw into the Master beneath him a moment before some unlucky mooks were knocked aside with a blow of the Force.

"Probably both," he answered to Roq's musing question. "Look on the bright side though: next time someone tries to throw an giant, angry saber-wielding lizard thing at you, you can laugh in their face." He paused briefly as they came back out into the Nivek's eternal night. "Just... y'know make sure the giant lizard thing doesn't skewer you while you laugh. Then they'd laugh at you."

When Locke let him down to the ground, he rolled onto his stomach with notably less sluggishness than he'd had before. Meanwhile, Locke tested his ability to reach out through the Force. His senses eased back, testing the area behind them for their friend...

Oh. Well that was easy.

The Sky'tiri's presence was big and loud and boisterous, almost literally like a charging bull, except this particular bull happened to be a large angry reptile thing. He was approaching remarkably quickly.

"Uh... Roq?"

Something loosened around his wrists. My hands! He could move his hands again! He pulled his arms around to his front, rubbed his sore wrists with a quiet sigh of relief.

Then he felt talons grip his shoulders. A glance up told him it was Roq. The same also told him that the Sky'tiri was about two inches from being up both of their asses. "ROQ!"

There was a moment of tension from the aged master, and then they both went up. Locke's stomach dropped and he felt that odd sense of heaviness when Roq shot up into the air.

As they soared up into the dark skies, Locke felt a childlike amazement spark in the core of his being. He managed a "Whoa!" in an exhilarated sort of whisper-yell. Then he remembered they still had business to handle.

He reached into his coat, flapping around though it was in the wind, and removed a short cylindrical object from it. The moment he touched it, he could feel a sort of oily, lingering taint through the Force, but he ignored it; if they were going to fight, in the air, he wasn't going to just hang there uselessly. He hit the ignition switch. A blade burst to life. It was a shoto saber, shorter than most.

It was also as red as fresh blood.

"Flying Jedi cavalry," Locke mused aloud. "Can't that's something you see every day."