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Fareon made his way to the Primeval Host Lord from his position in the room, which was near the center. He had only arrived there a few minutes ago; the servants were doing their jobs too well and trying to make sure he was alright, which of course took time. He strode purposefully to the woman before making his introduction in the form of extending his gloved right hand to her, and speaking to try to get her attention.
"Hello, Host Lord. My name is Fareon, and I have a simple question for you. I would like to know if I could be your next apprentice."
He watched her reaction closely, wondering if she knew that he had shown up uninvited.
[member="Anja Aj'rou"] nodded once and gave a short reply. "Walk with me." As they walked it was obvious that the events were about to unfold although the hostlord herself was not motioning to speak. As the short man by the throne began speaking they had made their way into the loosely formed crowd. Was now an appropriate time to speak?
Another man approached them, which made him the second guest to do so this evening, and as he neared them Delyna herself spoke to Anja. "Although I could work on the object alone I believe it would be extremely favourable to have you there, as well - As it was 'created' as a result of your influence. Surely it will be an interesting endeavour, too. If your schedule and interest suits it, perhaps we can dwell a bit on the subject by the end of the week, in two days?" As she spoke her hands moved behind her back where they simply folded.
Before a response was said, Delyna's thoughts wandered off to the executions. Who were the people they had collected for this particular event? Were they enemies or just unfortunate prey? Trying to still pay some attention to her surroundings, not to forget the host lord of the combined primeval force - the white haired woman closed her eyes and inhaled. Focusing her attention towards the courtyard, she felt her vision move through the thick sea of the dark side present in the room as she emerged outside. The people who had been decided to meet their ends today seemed somewhat unremarkable from this view. Most of them were alligned with the living force in a light-sided fashion, yet they mostly remained unremarkable. Perhaps the sheer amount of sith lords were clouding her mind but she wondered for a moment if they were republic agents or prisoners of war, or perhaps even inhabitants of some Primeval-conquered planet. From here, it was impossible to tell.
The man standing by her and the powerful witch spoke, but judging from his tone he had simply asked Anja a question.
He had witnessed the birth of stars, seen clusters move together in their current position, he had seen civilizations rise and fall all before his ghost eye and it had left him changed somehow, in some ways it was a familiar feeling which Laguz experienced every day because of her unique composition.
But for Jared… it went so much further than that, time, space, life itself had become relative to him, these days the only things he did was push boundaries, play games and see what would happen.
Exploration of lines, if you will.
When she moved Ovmar moved with her, there was no rush in this game, no hectic maneuvers which teenagers loved to act on during their first brushes of sexual experiences. No, both of them had all the time in the world and they were content to abuse said relativity for all its worth.
Gently his mind touched hers, it was a touch that came natural to him, telepathy and mentalism spurred on by the heat of the moment. It was a desire to share and to enrich the experience that was to come.
His power was known to her, the fact that he asked and did not take? It would tell her all she needed to know.
Small for a Togruta, by most standards. Maybe one-point-six meters height. Give or take some for the height of the white lekku with its blue accents. The colors of which contrasted well against the young woman's dark skin, which was the shade of the sands in the Valley of the Dark Lords on Korriban; or the sunset on Bastion.
Perhaps on Coruscant as well, but the boy had rarely seen the sky on his home planet. He was gutter trash, forever eclipsed in the shadow of great spires full of people who moved companies and corporate banks like pawns, and thought nothing more of him than something to be flushed down the toilet. But such was the nature of life under society as the galaxy knew it. Republic. Empire. Reformist. It all came down to who had credits, and who didn't. If you did, then your life was more important. You were more important.
Because credits were a false idol, the worship of which had overtaken people of all allegiances.
In the shadow of the archway leading out into the courtyard, the boy stopped. He looked up at the sky for a moment, then cast his eyes downward as he bowed his head. "Balagoth, say the word, and I will become Death," the young Pantoran prayed quietly, closing his eyes for a moment as he continued to speak the words of his heart. "Make me the instrument of your divine will, or if that be my will and not yours... pray, Balagoth, give me the courage to die well."
To die.
To sleep.
No more violence, or poverty, or disease, or selfishness. Sleeping in the light of Nogras. Transformed in the shadow of Balagoth and made new by the word of Halrormalenth. Neither a beginning nor an ending be, but merely the end of the beginning.
Whatever the Gods willed be done, the boy saw no disadvantage to him either way. If he lived, he lived to serve the Primeval. If he died, he would become Primeval. There would be an afterlife for him.
As for her...
The azure youth emerged into the courtyard. The white tunic caught the light, making him appear almost angelic as he approached the chained woman. Like a servant boy, he held a tray containing a pitcher and two glasses, balanced on one hand.
He stopped a few feet away. Bowing slightly, dropping his head politely, the blue-skinned youth raised his amber eyes up to the woman as he addressed her. "My lady." The courtesy was sincere, the young voice devoid of sarcasm. Reaching his free arm across, the boy picked the pitcher up from off the tray and began to pour a glass of water.
"The Lord of Hosts offers you a trial by combat."
He spoke as he finished pouring the drink, careful not to spill any as he stopped and returned the pitcher to the tray. He hadn't asked whether the Togruta accepted the Host Lord's offer, because that decision was not hers to make.
In this, they were alike. Both had been chosen, and neither could refuse.
"Would you care to meditate or pray before we begin, my lady?" the young Pantoran asked politely.
Of course, doubtless however the woman felt about her circumstances, the shackles were to be construed as an obstacle.
"I can free your shackles, if you like," the boy remarked in the same warm tone, removing his free hand from off the pitcher and then reaching behind to something on the back of his belt. A lightsaber. Familiar perhaps. The blade color would be green when activated. He deposited the weapon on the tray, beside the glass of water, as his hand once again went around to the small of his back. A second lightsaber waited there, this one only familiar to him. A plain, silver handle wrapped in black leather.
Looking up at the young Jedi, the boy took a step forward, extending the tray out for her to accept or decline as she saw fit. "Or you may yourself, if you prefer."
He liked very much to offer her some courtesy, to demonstrate the respect she hadn't shown the gods of the Primeval. Perhaps in her final moments, she would find Sargon. And the victory won would be hers in the end, when all other lights went out and only the light of Truth remained.
...but, as he awaited her choice, the boy was prepared to dispense with the pleasantries.
And her life.
And his life.
Because neither of their lives had ever truly been theirs to begin with. [member="Asaak Tey"]
Clearing his throat first, "For those interested..." There was a somewhat uneasiness about his voice, a certain pause that came in between his words. "Executions will begin in the Gardens." He gestured towards a rather grandiose archway that lead to the massive gardens that dotted the palace courtyard. "From there we have a special surprise, among the dying Jedi." The uneasiness became raspy, almost like a growl before curving itself into a fine tuned and surprisingly charismatic tone.
As the what seem the one that starting to clear her throat. Her own mind thoughts thinking just maybe this going to not bore her to death. After all if one didn't pick up the wow facter then she didn't know what knind of trouble she would be getting into.
Noting her said interested this brought a smile at less maybe just maybe something to peek. Small but their was a slight curve to her lips before she had it full when Executions. Reminding her of her own planet couldn't help it. Jedi where they the one that had that good good like the god of heaven on her own planet. Giving a very pleasing look towards [member="Anja Aj'Rou"].
As she made her way she couldn't help but over hear [member="Tmoxin Temi"] all she could do is look over her shoulder. "I for one am looking forward to this, the more pain they can bring to them the more this lips of mine with smile, as it means the God of pain is here to play."
Clearing his throat first, "For those interested..." There was a somewhat uneasiness about his voice, a certain pause that came in between his words. "Executions will begin in the Gardens." He gestured towards a rather grandiose archway that lead to the massive gardens that dotted the palace courtyard. "From there we have a special surprise, among the dying Jedi." The uneasiness became raspy, almost like a growl before curving itself into a fine tuned and surprisingly charismatic tone.
As the what seem the one that starting to clear her throat. Her own mind thoughts thinking just maybe this going to not bore her to death. After all if one didn't pick up the wow facter then she didn't know what knind of trouble she would be getting into.
Noting her said interested this brought a smile at less maybe just maybe something to peek. Small but their was a slight curve to her lips before she had it full when Executions. Reminding her of her own planet couldn't help it. Jedi where they the one that had that good good like the god of heaven on her own planet. Giving a very pleasing look towards [member="Anja Aj'Rou"].
As she made her way she couldn't help but over hear [member="Tmoxin Temi"] all she could do is look over her shoulder. "I for one am looking forward to this, the more pain they can bring to them the more this lips of mine with smile, as it means the God of pain is here to play."
And so she returned his gesture, the give and take of two entities who know the uncertainty of existence like the back of their hand. It was a very different experience compared to your common mating ritual, where things began and ended in the realm of the physical. Nothing wrong with that, of course — not everyone is made to contemplate the abstract — but for Laguz it was certainly a rare delight in the universe riddled with average.
Didn't mean she couldn't have fun, mind you.
Speaking of minds; his brushed against hers in an almost gentle manner a ghosting touch asking entry instead of demanding it. Such a gentleman, the redhead chuckled, knowing full well that he could've driven her mad if he so desired. It was uniquely intoxicating, to seep into the looming essence of [member="Jared Ovmar"] and feel it embrace and slither between her own thoughts. Dangerous? Certainly, but her current skin fit that sentiment even more than usual, so why the hell not? Laguz had always lived life on the edge and beyond, and she had no intent to stop now.
Hear the commotion outside? the shifter grinned at the taller man, her full lips pulling back to reveal a row of white teeth. That smile could often be sharp and sadistic, but today it wasn't so; it was merely a twinkle of her odd brand of humor, bleeding into that smirk as the woman slowly moved away. Her fingers lingered upon the patch of skin running between the lapels of the now unbuttoned shirt before she pulled back, her green eyes alight with mischief.
We can be loud now,the murmur of her mind was a soft one, like the rustle of silk against bare flesh. Oh, they could. The guests, as lovely as they were in their expensive dresses and convincing smiles, were also the crème de la crème of the Galaxy in terms of cruelty, and Laguz didn't doubt for a moment that they would enjoy the outdoor festivities. Nobody would notice they were gone, busy as they would be watching the creatively designed deaths of the God-Empress' prisoners.
Her grin stretched wider as the woman slowly slid her fingers down her thighs, keeping her gaze locked with his even as they disappeared under the hem of her dress. She would listen to his every sigh, mental or otherwise, as her hands made their way back up, taking the smooth black fabric with them.
With a languid, predatory grace, Jacen moved from where he had been watching the gathering. He was new to the world of galactic politics, but that didn't mean he didn't know what he was about. Despite rumors he knew to be spreading about the people of Anderahl being savage with a backwards religion, Jacen Rahl was impeccably clean, his medium length hair pulled back and his beard trimmed short. He wore an expensive suit in dark earth tones that was tailored to his well muscled form and did not bind nor bunch as he moved. In his hand he carried a delicate looking glass with the obligatory bubbly drink that balls and galas and bashs seemed to require, though he took only perfunctory sips. People who had been around the palace on Bastion for a while would have noticed that Jacen did not drink heavily, though it never hindered his ability to enjoy himself. Instead he seemed to desire to remain sharp, taking in everything around him with easy glances.
All through the ball so far, Jacen had been quiet, near to unmoving in a spot not to distant from the bar. He was a newcomer to galactic politics, but to him everything was simplified into the predator/prey equation. Politics was just another objective to conquer, another hunt to pursue. When the executions were announced, he stirred and moved across the ballroom. He did not sway and twist his way through the crowd, he moved slowly, always perfectly balanced on his feet, pausing here and there to let guests flit past at their own speed for he was in no hurry. He paused at the threshold between the ballroom and the garden and looked at the guests nearby, a small smile creased his lips, teeth barely showing, but amusement clear in his eye. He had been hoping for a hunt, but executions were close to being almost as fun.
(OOC: This went live during my finals, hope no one minds me just slipping in here.)
This sucked. At least Mehrk had actually killed someone before everything went south. Not that his life had not been a bummer for its sad duration.
The gungan mercenary awaited his judgment in a bit of a mental haze. His eyes remained motionless as he was pulled out of his cell and roughly shoved out into the gardens. The bloody gardens--or they would soon be, at least. There was no hope left. There had never been any hope for Mehrk Gorbi. His life had been a jumble of trapping game and trapping bounties, culminating in his killing of a wild Barabel who had blown a Hutt sky-high. If that was achievement, then Mehrk was gold.
But it was little consolation now. Some bloodthirsty witchhunters (who were, ironically, led by a witch of sorts) had found him on Telos, hunting on 'sacred ground' or something seriously phony like that. Like the Primeval actually had wildlife reserves. Though it could be argued that the entire group of warlords was composed of nothing but savages.
Anyway, the point was that the towering gungan had been brought into captivity for trapping animals, and now he was about to be slaughtered like one publicly, for no other reason than to impress the guests at a 'party'.
Not too much philosophical flooded Mehrk's mind. He had made atonement for his sins--whatever they were. His life had been miserable enough, what with him being nothing but an attack dog for some people; a lesser species to others. So it was no surprise that he had come to this place, about to be murdered for not being of whatever caste of people the Primeval deemed worthy of living. It was not every day that someone was executed for simply hunting in a national park or whatever they called it.
Truth be told, executions weren't his thing. If Tmoxin wanted to go and watch, he would oblige her. It was just never becoming for an officer to take pleasure in death in any shape or form. Killing the enemy to protect yourself and the men on each side of you was one thing, but stealing a life for the mere entertainment of a bunch of people who didn't matter was quite another. The Captain grimaced at the speaker, noting his short stature and seemingly wretched voice.
"I don't think these brutes know the word humane." Hans remarked, his own words low enough for her to hear alone. "Hopefully they've committed crimes and aren't just innocent lives to be lost."
The idea of taking someone's life for fun greatly disturbed him, down to the core. Sickening.
Tmoxin definitely wanted to see the executions. In fact if there was anything the Hapan officer liked more than witnessing a bloodstained reprisal, it would have been to foil an assassination plot on the Hapan Queen when she was in Her Majesty's Select Commandos and then bringing those rival families to justice. Violence and politics were interchangeable at the very upper levels of Hapan society, so the Commander was no stranger to it.
Still she was conflicted about this particular series of executions as she had not the background around what they had done or whether they were truly guilty of crimes. In response to Captain Vaiden’s similar musings she replied, “I agree. Let’s hope they have deserved their punishment.”
She turned her brown eyes to the meet the gaze of the woman who over her shoulder had said, "I for one am looking forward to this, the more pain they can bring to them the more this lips of mine with smile, as it means the God of pain is here to play.”
Tmoxin gave the regal woman a circumspect look, lifted her chin and quite sharply said, “You feel that they should suffer? Does your God not show any mercy at all?”
Concerned would have been a good way to describe his response to Lorelei's tone with Disciple. Disciple was gone shortly thereafter, and Gerion eased up considerably, exhaling like a fugitive who just watched an observant watchman pass over his hiding spot. The whole thing hadn't lasted terribly long, yet somehow it felt like a century had already passed. He watched Disciple wander off, and by the time he had lost track of that dangerous lunatic he found that he was being led somewhere else by the Queen. Good. The more distance, the better.
The Umbaran cleared his throat, then proceeded to do a very Umbaran thing and blatantly lie. "Yes, well, fortunately all that history is far behind us and no longer cause for anyone's concern. I'll be glad to speak of it some other time. This splendid ball is hardly the place to talk about something so sordid."
"Executions will begin in the Gardens." Someone of low importance announced.
"Oh. I stand corrected."
He wondered if there was anything stronger than wine available, or if it could be served to him Intravenously.
She didnt' believe a word - but whether that was due to being old enough to know better or that Gerion was a terrible liar remained a mystery. Her wine was quickly running out and so it was to the bar that she escorted him. The announcement of executions gave her pause in a moment of mild ... surprise was it? In fact it was curiosity for the poor souls on display - but the Queen of Kuat couldn't be seen spectating such things. That might raise brows just a bit more than her attendance to the ball itself no doubt would.
The bar.
"You must have been working amidst some of the darker breeds of this galaxy for some time," she started after ordering herself another wine, "you seem so at-ease here." A wondering glance covered what would have been a wry smirk, "How long have you been with the One Sith Empire, Gerion?"
After what the you lady [member="Tmoxin Temi"]. Only brought a smirk upon her lips, "No their isn't their are God of Blood, Goddess of War, God of Rain and fire.", as she smile. After that she turn her attention back only that this time she couldn't help but see someone standing it wasn't just the way he had his body position but those eyes told her different story [member="Jacen Rahl"] that of the eyes she seen on so many of her people warriors eyes.
"You see dearly only the strong survive where I came from the rest get a trip to the under world." , after which time she let herself give the one that now seem to be looking her way a nod. Knowing that her own tone body but also her height would play a part also. Knowing how to move though the crowd this wouldn't seem a normal in any other place but here or was even some here like this Missy that didn't like this kind of dealings.
Despite losing faith in herself, she’d never lost faith in the Force. It had never let her down. Even in hindsight thinking of all those days and nights in Coruscant’s Underworld, the Force had kept her just a step ahead of those who’d rather have seen her dead. The Force was her religion and therefore she believed in no deities, but the blue-skinned boy clothed in white had her reconsidering for a moment with the aura that seemed to float around him through her tired eyes.
He wasn’t what she was expecting.
She nearly jumped when she heard his voice despite its calm, polite tone. Where was the impatience, the brutality she’d come to know from Sith? And he was so young. She suddenly felt an unbearable sadness piercing through her fear. She imagined a time where he was innocent, uncorrupted by the dark side. A part of her knew she was foisting a history on a being she knew not even a little – for all she knew he’d been born to darkness. She was no less frightened of him because of his age knowing it meant little in regards to how dangerous he could be.
The water was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen, at least in that moment. She wanted it desperately, her dry lips as she stared at the liquid lifeline evidence that her captors had only seen fit to keep her alive, not well. She didn’t want to be lulled in to a false sense of security by his demeanor but there were other reasons to take the proffered drink. A trial by combat. She wasn’t so foolish to believe that by defeating this boy she would be left to walk from the palace of her own accord, unstopped by countless Sith and their friends lining the courtyard and halls within. But she could make a case for the Light. And her life would have meaning. Without the water she would be as weak as an infant, thirsty and disoriented.
By the time she’d made her decision to drink he was holding out the tray with her lightsaber lying next to salvation, barely hearing his offer of letting her remove her own shackles. “Yo…” She paused, clearing her throat, her voice cracking with days of disuse. “You can remove them.” She had as much choice in this as she did the trial – her wrists were bound so tightly it would be a wonder if she could undo them herself.
She kept an eye on him, half-expecting him to prove himself Sith and go back on his entire façade of a personality, but instead he unshackled her with the same politeness he’d displayed thus far. Perhaps it was to unnerve her. She would not allow it. Not today. She would not die being afraid. She was tired of being afraid. She wanted to prove her Master Rasu Gan had been right about her, that Sochi had been right about her, that Aika had been right about her. She wanted to be Jedi.
Unbound, she reached for the water, making it obvious she was taking the glass and not her saber. She downed it slowly so as not to let it hit her stomach like a brick despite how badly she wanted it. A moment passed, two, three – silence, the roaring sound of something impending. She could meditate but she’d always thrived on chaos and action, finding her home in movement and combat. It had taken her a while to figure out how to flow with the Force in those moments instead of trying to bend it to her will, but when she’d found that rhythm…
She was ready.
Putting down the glass and picking up her lightsaber, she took a few steps back from him. She bowed, her long lekku falling from its draped positioning around her shoulders – she would show him the manners he’d seen fit to provide her even if she would do her best to win the day. Opening her saber with its characteristic snapping sound and holding it in her right hand, she bent at the knees and spread her feet for a solid footing.
It was all a game of the mind, intricate illusions projected into your being.
Chemical reactions that your brain made so the metaphysical became more clear to the limited understanding of humanity, and he pulled her in. Their minds melted, blended together into a mixture of desire, lust, hunger.
Sensitivity increased as even the softest brush of the skin became almost too much to bear, tastebuds being stimulated and excited by the aroma of the other, and the scent reaching animal proportions as it reached them and left them wanting for more.
There was no limit, there was no peace at the top of the hill, because there wasn’t a top. The higher they came, the more there was to discover, the stronger the urge went to go farther.
They raced from beast, to tenderness and back, rollercoastering around on a trip of ecstasy and the distinct feeling of never-ending craving.
Hidden and unnoticed beneath the aegis of an ill-lit corner's umbrage, an inchoate form floated away from its hidden penumbra. Like a primordial shape emerging from the darkness, sloughing off tendrils of shadowy vernix.
The amorphous being, its viscous skin a dark-green sheen, hovered upon a floating chair out toward the two lifeforms. An octad of murky eyes, their pupils like black symbols of eternity, swiveled atop pedicles to stare at the convulsing, writhing humans.
Undulating tentacles stretched forth, wriggling with sluggish delight, and slid across the skin of the humans.
Anja was about to respond to the silver-haired woman, she took a breath and right before she was able to speak a man approached her. He was quite forward with her but more importantly there was no mistaking what he had asked her. Turning her head towards Delyna the witch's eyes narrowed as she wondered if the oracle could use her powers to see through him. The metal plates that were so deftly formed along her ceremonial armour jangled lightly as the pieces brushed up against each other in the slightest way; her body turned to face him.
Standing at 1.72m the rather average figure of the Host Lord was not particularly intimidating. She may have not been able to stand over him but Anja emitted what could be described as an ominous presence. For a force-sensitive being she did not hide her signature in the force which was wild and untamed despite being regarded as a master; she had much to learn.
"That's a very forward request. Who are you?" Already she was suspicious. Why would one of the Sith seek her out as a master? Then again he didn't seem like a Sith, he didn't feel like one either. With rumors of a powerful witch residing on Bastion spreading throughout the galaxy she wondered if he sought her out through word of mouth. Bastion was a very defensible world, how he got this far without being noticed was beyond her but with the eventful celebration going on it was as perfect a time as ever to slip through the cracks.
As she awaited his answer she couldn't help but wish she had her vibroblade with her.
Lips curled themselves upwards into a delighted smirk as she listened to the woman speak, shudders trickling down her spine and shoulders trembling ever so lightly as those delightful words rang through her ears, traces of anger, disdain, and annoyance all mixed amongst one another in her tone friends tone of voice. Soft thuds echoed between the pairs ears as the crimson-haired woman continued to slowly walk past and towards the main entrance of the palace, her self-satisfied snickering slowly trailing off into a pair of muffled groans as she felt that sizzling gaze bore down upon her back, beads of sweat trickling down her reddened cheeks as her tongue darted incessantly between her gums. As entertaining as it was to annoy her unfortunate companion every so often, that overbearing sense of dread and terror never once lifted itself off her shoulders whenever her mouth would run afoul of her thoughts, her thoughts confused and disturbed whenever she realized the person standing right behind her could easily tear her apart limb from limb if the wrong words were uttered.
Yet when the much taller woman finally uttered her retort, it felt as if a weight had been lifted off of her, sighs of relief slipping through her quivering lips as a few nimble fingers were brought up to wipe away the sweat dribbling down her cheeks. "Vintage?" She replied absentmindedly as she continued to gaze upon the flight of stairs in front of them, bringing herself to a halt momentarily to allow her colleague enough time to catch up and stand besides her before making their way upwards. Tilting her head downwards to peer at her dress, furrowed brows and focused eyes looked over the fabric from one end to the another as her lips continued to contort and morph endlessly, finally settling into a faint smile before shrugging her shoulders."You might have a point there, I'm ashamed to admit." She continued after a small pause, a soft oomph rolling off the tip of her tongue as she cleared the last step, turning around to face the red-headed woman with a cheeky grin. "It's hard to argue with someone who shops in a morgue."
Eyes widened ever so slightly once she heard a booming and unfamiliar voice echo within the walls of the palace, hurriedly twirling her body on the spot to peer through the open doors leading inside. Her expression turned sour and somber the moment she realized he was announcing the planned executions, shoulders slumping themselves and arms falling limp against her body as she stared absentmindedly at the gathered crowd. "Right . . . " She muttered under her own breath, a lump forming itself against her throat as she felt her stomach churn restlessly, mewling groans rolling through her throat before she turned her attention back towards Sena. "A-Ah! . . . W-Well . . . Would you like to grab a drink?" She asked in a meek, almost terrified tone of voice, quivering lips twisting into a trembling and overbearing smile as she tried to push the thought of death to the back of her mind.
Jacen paused on his way to the garden. He always knew when someone's eyes were on him, and he felt that now. He turned slowly and searched for the eyes that were on him, finding them to belong to Inger he smiled a toothy, predatorial smile and slowly raised an eyebrow as he looked her up and down. He then pivoted smoothly and walked towards her. He caught her last words to [member="Tmoxin Temi"] and smiled wider.
"Likewise, on my world only those strongest and most fit survive. Handouts weaken a society and a person who can not see to their own protection does not have the right to someone elses." He paused just at the edge of a comfortable conversational proximity and raised his glass to those who were speaking. "I am Jacen Rahl, Warlord of Ka'a."
