Long Lost To Where No Pathway Goes

[Darth Immortus]

The cold mists of Trian were as secluded as the planet itself. It sat on the edge of the galaxy, an undeveloped haven of dark woods that blotted out the sun. Darth Immortus, fresh with the breath of life, escaped here after his rebirth on Dantooine. The navicomputer aboard Zora Djo's ship still blinked repeatedly as it waited for a command, although the ship itself had long since plunged itself into the forest, wedging between trees under Immortus' clumsy guidance as it landed. The Sith lord had abandoned the console just as it had been during the flight, having grown frustrated at his lack of ability to remember how to pilot a ship.

The black-clad figure moved slowly, painfully down the ship's exit ramp, observing the murky surroundings of the wood. This was not where he intended to be, but there was a strange peace to the planet of Trian. He had aimed for Sith space after making his escape from Dantooine, having been so successful in that endeavor that he overshot the mark completely. Now, he was here, with a broken ship and a broken body.

The ritual that he used to return to life had left him virtually powerless. It was a feeling of weakness and vulnerability that was alien to Darth Immortus. Zora Djo's meager energy would not be enough to sustain him. He needed to find a new source. Perhaps it was a good thing that he had overshot his intended target, Immortus began to think in retrospect. His powers, weakened as they were in this state, would not be able to contend with the powerful Sith Lords of the Empire, should they perceive him as a threat. He would have returned to life for naught, his journey ended before it could even begin.

Stumbling down the ramp and onto the fresh grass, Immortus sauntered painfully into the woods, finally placing a hand on a tree husk for support. His new body groaned and writhed with every fresh movement. Finally, the Sith Lord, enshrined in his dark robes, knelt and grasped a fallen tree branch, judging the piece of wood strong and sturdy enough to support his frame. Using it as his makeshift walking stick, Immortus continued into the woods further, now walking with less pain.

[member="Isla Ashen"]

 

[Isla Ashen]

A small campfire glowed in the Trian darkness.

Keeping warm by the fire was a cloaked figure, tattered hood drawn to cover a crop of fiery red hair. She stared at embers burning, emerald eyes cold and blank. Even in the fire’s light, her complexion remained ghostly pale. With nightfall, came the thoughtful silence that kept her company.

Only in these small moments did she allow her mind to wander.

Isla had been in this place for years now, long years. She’d fled the shadow of the Supreme Leader; she’d been in hiding ever since. Ashen Ren was no more; it was a name she had shed right away. That dark servant was gone. They had tamed her, broken her – made her bend her mind and will to another.

No more.

It would not happen again, Isla had decided. In returning to her feral nature, she had chosen this heavily wooded home – far away from her old life. There was a small cabin just behind her, it was little more than a shell of scavenged lumber, but it kept the elements at bay. Tanning racks sat in the nearby clearing, where hides could dry in what small amount of sun was allowed through the trees. Yes, this was home now. Reaching for a freshly caught rabbit, Isla’s gloved hand wrapped around the small corpse. Her other hand pulled a knife from her belt, but before she could set to work… her attention shifted.

There was a heartbeat in the night. It was weak and wavering, but dark. Eyes narrowed slightly, but she made no effort to hide her own presence within the force, nor did she attempt to douse her campfire. Instead, she let it burn, an invitation or a beacon. She was not a coward; she was still a fighter at heart. The only remains of her life as a Ren was a saber, which sat tucked beneath her cloak.

Let them come, Isla mused silently.

[member="Darth Immortus"]

 

[Darth Immortus]

Chill winds carried icy forebodings through the time-aged oak trees as Immortus continued on his journey to nowhere. He had waited six hundred years to return to life, and now that he was once again among the living, he could think of nothing other to do than simply walk. Walk, and face the tribulations of his depressing, pitiful state. How cruel fate and time had been to him, and yet the Sith Lord pressed on, each step aided by his new walking cane, but carrying with it a determination to overcome his current limitation. And just as he had neglected completely to hide his presence in the Force, so too did [member="Isla Ashen"]. Immortus sensed her within minutes; suddenly became aware that he was not alone.

The Sith Lord dampened his presence suddenly, as though he had been found out. Had the Jedi tracked him to Triam using the archivist's ship somehow? They could already be hunting him. Immortus hunkered low with his signature in the Force, relegating it to a mere speck of what it once was. But he still headed towards the other presence, knowing all he had to defend himself was his barely functional six-hundred-year-old lightsaber and a body barely able to use it.

He saw the light first, then realized it was fire, then headed further towards it. As he approached the small clearing, he could see it for what it was; a makeshift camp site. This was no Jedi; whoever sat hunched over that camp fire had been here for a long time, and the tendrils of their presence were dark, much as his. Perhaps the Force had guided him here - a small amount of relief washed over him, knowing that this was no student of tne Light Side. And as he edged ever closer, he could see that it was a woman.

His cold eyes watched her from behind the branches, the silhouette of his shadowy, ghostlike figure barely visible between the trees. Immortus said nothing, but she knew he was there.

 

[Isla Ashen]

Isla worked to skin her rabbit dinner, her mind only half on the task. Her hands worked automatically, repeating motions that had been done many times over. This freed her attention to remain elsewhere, focused on the presence that grew near. But then, it flickered and went out. No longer able to sense the looming darkness, a brow rose ever slightly.

Ignoring the impulse to go stalking through the forest, she placed her dinner over the fire to roast. It wasn’t long before she felt eyes upon her, from afar. Reaching to the side, Isla lifted a small log and nestled it in the ashes and embers of her campfire. Even with the force presence seemingly absent, her well-trained ears heard movement in the trees.

There were footsteps, the smallest rustling of leaves.

What could this be? It was no assassin, she figured. There were no troops, no others, only one presence. There were none that knew of this little clearing on Trian, so far as she was aware. Perhaps this shadowy form was the same as she... did it seek a place to remain hidden? Emerald eyes glared through the branches and brush, the dark figure of what appeared to be a man was there – but barely. Almost like a ghost.

Drawing in a slow breath, Isla took her eyes from the shadow for a but a moment, enough time to grab up a stick long enough to prod her fire. She was no longer a Ren, no longer a warrior. For the time, she was simply a woodsman, an exile.

“Why have you come here?” Her low tone spoke, void of malice or threats – simply curious.

[member="Darth Immortus"]

 

[Darth Immortus]

The ghostly figure emerged from the underbrush, parting the leaves and twigs to reveal a dark-robed man with long, flowing hair that masked a pale face. Whoever this woman was, Force-user or not, she would not be in such a remote location alone if she were a mere student of the Sith. Wherever the Apprentice is, the Master is not far behind, and even if the Apprentice is working alone on a task, it would not be in a location such as this. There was nothing on this planet save for endless forest. Why would anyone come here?

"For perhaps the same reason you have come," Immortus answered, and moved towards the campfire [member="Isla Ashen"] had made for herself. The glow from the fire's flickering tongues of flame now illuminated his face. "To escape. To not be seen."

Immortus exhaled in frustration. Even the trek through the woods had tired his drained body. He was in need of sustenance, both physical and spiritual. Walking closer to her, the Sith Lord moved to sit down in the space across the fire from her.

"It would appear we have both failed in our goal, if that was indeed your endeavor, Dark one."