IC: Gorog Deep inside the caves Gorog almost lost control in his angry. And that had never happened before. Thirty millennia trapped in a jar, and the first thing that is said to him is this? "That is it? An old thing in a box?" Cara asked. "All this trouble about an old thing in a box? What, did my bombardment awake you? Did I break some sort of mystic seal? What? WHAT?" Cara thought she wanted more room and the Kiliks hurried out of her way. Gorog felt a bead of sweat dribble down his weathered head. The Killiks were listening to her... "You fool allowed your sibling to shoot you into space and now youÂ´re wrecking chaos on the most unimportant piece of rock in the universe because you feel the need to FEED YOU EGO!?!" Cara stepped forth, to hammer her fist into this tank the thing was in. And she began to laugh. "Do you Sith never get it? YouÂ´re loosers!" Gorog allowed condescension to creep into his tones. "Oh yes, Cara, believe that, little murderess. This, all of this," Gorog gestured with her arms, taking in the whole planet, "is because of you. Because of the bombardment you led on this very moonlet. This caused us to stir anew. Not this 'Lomi Plo', not this 'Sarafur', who rampaged so. You. And now he seeks to thwart our return. But its too late... far too late." The head shivered through Cara's body. "Centerpoint is gone. She is free. But don't worry, little one, there won't be anything left for her to take." The Killiks gathered back around her at his demand, and Gorog allowed the poison within Cara to touch nerve endings, to sever them around her throat. Her body flopped forward, onto knees. He let her keep control of her mouth, of those foolish words she would utter, no doubt. He grinned manically. "Did you know that there is one art that the Killiks truly learned, and did not steal from another race?" Gorog felt the one he had saved come stomping from around the corner, deeper in the cave. Gorog nodded. The massive Killik snapped razor sharp claws, enlargened claws, and flexed them, clicking them in time with its chirps and whistles. It reached for Cara. Gorog answered his question. "Limb reattachment." Snip. TAG: SirakRomar --- IC: Darth Insipid Heading for the central cavern Darth Insipid scurried away from the death throes of the Sarlacc, feeling the echoes of a Joiner in the monstrous creatures' mind. His lightsaber was in hand, and he cut and spun, slashing apart a Killik here, there. It seemed as if a few hundred had been jammed down this tunnel. They seemed determined to scurry forward, as if they had a target they were being driven after. Insipid cursed, loudly. He did not enjoy being irrelevant. Bisecting a trio of Killiks who were ignoring him, Insipid pointed up, cursing his grandmothers bones for the first time in his life. Lomi Plo. Dark Queen of the Gorog. And now... there was only Gorog. The Sith Lord, only anointed such barely fifteen years earlier, gnashed his teeth together, the young man cursing Darth Krayt and his idiocy. Reaching into the darkness, he threw his mind up the tunnel, away from Gorog and Cara and the sarlacc, into the central chamber - He found two minds. One, a mottled and old one, nibbled at the edges by the dark side, did not interest him; Ship was here. Insipid's eyes flared open, in surprise. "Impossible." Whatever was happening, he had to get away from Ship. Insipid was between Ship and Gorog. And he did not want to get in the way of that. He was right; Krayt had sent him here to die. But he could sense so many more dark presences, that he could. And he began to acknowledge what had happened. Insipid turned his blade down, and drove it up, into the ceiling. He had to get to the surface, warn the Jedi - lure him down here, somehow - Because it was going to take a Skywalker to stop this cataclysm. The battle of darkness... It was a Caedus.