Star Wars Horror Thriller OPEN The Insane Asylum of Bedlam

IC: Sybelle
location? she doesn’t know and doesn’t care

Her laugh was soft. It was soft because there was no moisture in her mouth or throat. Maybe there was no sound… Perhaps she was only imagining that she laughed.

Did anyone honestly think they could torture her? What a joke…

If she could hear the dripping, she wouldn’t care. Sybelle only hoped that it was her blood leaving her body.

She didn’t care.

Tag: @Sinrebirth

 

IC: Aryan Graul
Unknown


Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

The rhythmic cadence penetrated his mind, burrowing deeper into his consciousness until he finally emerged from his stupor—or perhaps it was the unexpected shock of water splashing against his cheek that ultimately roused him awake. Either way, Aryan Graul turned his head away and blinked his eyes several times as if he were a small child stubbornly trying to wipe away the vivid images of a terrible nightmare. But he knew it was a useless gesture; there was no escape. Even as he moved, he could feel the impenetrable darkness pressing down on him from all angles, threatening to suffocate him under its weight. It brought a pitiful moan to his chapped lips as he instinctively rolled onto his side and drew his knees up toward his chest in the fetal position—

Except he couldn’t move.

It was physically impossible; someone had bound his wrists behind his back and chained his ankles to the floor. The restraints rattled as he struggled against them, a low growl emitting from deep in his throat in his frustration.

Only then, in this vulnerable state, did he become aware of his violently shaking body. It was undoubtedly a result of the penetrating chill in the air—and the fact that he was bereft of clothes except for a heavy cloak draped loosely over his shoulders. Overall, he found that it did very little to protect him from the bitter cold biting into his bare flesh. The metal floor did not help, nor did the sizeable puddle forming beneath him from the fluid trickling down from above. The conditions were truly appalling, and he had to wonder if it would have been better for him to remain in the merciful clutches of oblivion.

Perhaps indefinitely?

And yet, maybe he deserved this. It was likely all his fault, anyway.

Aryan knew it had been dangerous to venture into Hutt Space after staying in the shadows for so long—but then again, he never intended for Nar Haaska to serve as anything more than a simple layover. After months of searching, he had been fortunate enough to secure a steady job as a cargo pilot in the Corporate Sector. One of his first assignments involved dropping off supplies to a major conglomerate in Nar Haaska's bustling spaceport. The job had sounded easy enough, and well worth the risk…

Nevertheless, here he was.

Something had apparently gone wrong, and he was now being held captive by—by whom? He had only assumed the Empire had finally caught up with him, but he realized that he didn’t have a clue. All he had was the relentless dripping that had initially roused him from his unconscious state.

But wait.

There was something more.

Narrowing his eyes, Aryan concentrated hard as he heard a slight rustling from the other side of the chamber. In the darkness, he could almost feel the displacement of air, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end as someone seemingly approached.

Aryan called out to them in desperation, his voice weak and raspy; a mere whisper compared to its usual timbre. "Wh—where am… I?" he breathed harshly, his eyes sweeping the room once more. "Who’s th—"

The words failed him as he quickly dissolved into a fit of convulsive coughing.

TAG: @Sinrebirth

 

Snap.

There was a sudden flurry of invisible energy, and their eyes would be unbound, revealed, showing each other.

They remained bound in by wrist and ankle and indeed, as applicable, in the Force, but they were all there.

There was a brief moment where their eyes sought to acclimatize to the darkness, the smallest possible moment -



A single bulb erupted with energy, a powerful light source that stabbed at their pupils -

They were blinded.

Completely.

A speaker.

My name is Doctor Green.

Welcome to the Bedlam Insane Asylum. Some of you have been here longer than the rest, others, not long at all.

Suffice to say, time doesn't matter to the dead, and you are, very much, that.

The terminator between what you were and are is gone.

You no longer exist.

I will give you a chance to calm yourself.

Then, we shall begin.

Your eyes will not adapt to this light.

It is designed so you will not.

Blinded by Darkness, blinded by Light.

Blind is blind is blind.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Silence returned.

@ShinSkywalker, @Lady_Belligerent, @HanSolo29, @Mitth_Fisto, @darthbernael, @Mira Grau (singles, one last round of them, and then we BEGIN the Separation...

 

IC: Sybelle
Bedlam

Dr. Green? What kind of physician restrains non-violent patients, and then blinds them? Sybelle decided in that very moment that she would find out who put her here in this wanna be hell… she would make sure they were shown the true meaning of pain.

This wasn’t pain. She had felt anguish at the hands of another, and this didn’t compare.

This was child's play and she would survive it by using her very real misery as a shield. How long will that vile liquid be dripping? She still hoped it was blood… first it would be warm, then sticky as it cooled.

They could keep her bound and blinded… kriff them all.

Sybelle didn’t care. There was nothing left to care about. They could kill her, but that wasn’t what they wanted… someone wanted her to suffer. Sybelle’s eyes rolled reflexively in the blinding light.

Only, would it hurt them to provide a proper pillow and blanket?!

“Kriff off, Doctor Green!” Sybelle spat and sank back into her stupor.

Her own boiling hatred would get her through this.

Tag: @Sinrebirth

 

IC: Mer-el
Bedlam Asylum?

In the instant between his eyes being unbound and the blinding light filling them, Mer-el saw shapes, other forms, around him. A throaty growl came from him, the annoyance of the still dripping water making him unsure if they were captives as he was or captors.

The voice spoke, the light flickering and flashing, making it beyond difficult to adapt. ’Calm!!! Calm….right…’ flared in his mind. Another growl, his arms and leg straining against whatever bound him.

The voice had said they were dead. A throaty, growling laugh came from his throat. He knew death, had felt it, seen it, experienced it in the dreams of another life, if they were dreams. He knew the difference.

But…he had a name…a name to hate now. This…Doctor Green. It was just a voice in a box at the moment but it was a start. That and the scent of the others that his bleary eyes had seen, his sensitive nose having picked the various scents up.

His teeth bared in an angry, feline grin at the thoughts in his mind now. Calm…no, that wouldn’t happen and, if the scents he’d picked up were any indicator at least some of the others felt the same hate he was feeling.

Relaxing against the bonds now, almost reveling in the pain sensations which were another lie put to the words that Doctor Green had said, pain meant life of one sort or another. Even as weary as he was, from the dripping and from the nightmares he now had purpose, a reason, and he wouldn’t let anything stop him.

TAG: @Sinrebirth

 

IC: Aryan Graul
Bedlam Asylum


Shapes.

As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, humanoid shapes emerged from the darkness; he was not alone.

He counted one… two… three… four… five…

And then—

The blinding light caused physical pain, exemplified by a sea of white that engulfed his vision and throbbed unrelentingly into his brain. Aryan issued a soft whimper and instinctively closed his eyes against the harsh glare, fumbling for the cloak draped around his shoulders in an effort to pull it closer to his exposed body. But again, the restraints denied him this simple luxury. He did not want to struggle further and risk displacing the cloak completely, especially when it was his only article of clothing. Instead, he settled down and resigned himself to his fate.

Fortunately, he didn’t have to wait long.

A crooning voice broke through the silence, bringing a momentary respite from the monotonous cadence of dripping water. The source remained unseen, and for the moment, Aryan was grateful for the reprieve—but his relief quickly vanished as the voice droned on. An underlying sense of foreboding permeated the stranger’s inflection, sending a chill down the length of his spine. It seemed to sweep over his body like a dark shroud, culminating when the man, who identified himself as Dr. Green, revealed their location.

Bedlam.

Bedlam.

Yes, he knew that name. His father had ingrained it in his memory. It had achieved legendary status in his family; the source of nightmares. His old man had used it as a form of punishment, threatening to send him there if he misbehaved or performed short of his expectations. Aryan suspected his older sister had become a permanent resident—she had left home in her early teens without an explanation, but that still didn’t account for his father’s boasting. The man had flaunted it so often that it was difficult to distinguish myth from reality.

Until now.

Dr. Green’s description of the fabled asylum lent more credence to the tales. It felt more… real.

And that’s when he began to panic.

"T–There’s been a mistake," Aryan croaked weakly, his face screwed up in desperation, pleading. "My father—uh, err… Norin Graul, he had a… share in this place; I—I wouldn’t be surprised if he held additional investments… maybe even a management position." He paused to scoff derisively at that notion. "Do you know who I am? I’m—"

But he trailed off, his lips still parted in mid-sentence. Slowly, his expression fell and turned more solemn as realization dawned. There was no need to reveal his identity; Dr. Green already knew. Of course, he did. The Empire had tracked him to Nar Haaska, arrested him, and then his father had likely intervened and negotiated a lucrative deal to send him to Bedlam. It was all part of the plan.

However, he wouldn’t have an opportunity to ponder his situation further.

A second voice called out in the silence; a distinctly female voice—

"Kriff off, Doctor Green!"

It was a familiar voice, one that stirred a flurry of previously repressed emotions deep inside his chest. He thought he had moved on and grieved her passing, but—

Had she survived?

"S–Sybelle?" he called tentatively, his heart leaping into his throat.

TAG: @Sinrebirth; @Lady_Belligerent; others in the vicinity

 

IC: Doctor Green
Speaker

“Kriff off, Doctor Green!”

Ha.

Not kriff myself? Just kriff off. Very disappointing. I expected more from the legendary Chiss wit. Doctor Black is waiting.

The floor beneath her gave way and dropped her just as she heard her name uttered.

Drip.

He reoriented.

Cat got your tongue, Mer-el? Off you go to Doctor Blue.

A tangle of metal tentacles seized them and swept them off through a wall-slot.

Drip.

A cant of his head to the mumbling.

“Zathras not was, Zathras not is. Yes. Yes. But! Zathras will Be! Yes? Yes.”

It was too easy.

Doctor Brown says; Zathras no.

The light-fitting fired a bolt of energy that appeared to incinerate him; the burning sensation was a thing. Instead he would appear in another place.

Drip.

"I will make sure your death will be slow and painful..."

How delightful. Doctor Gray cannot wait, Darth Zhorrid.

The floor tilted, sending the Sith Lord down an incline into the depths like a ragdoll upon a child's slide.

Drip.

An incline.

Emmy? Fear. Fear, fear, fear. Your undoing. We shall instead, do, yes? Doctor Red will see you now.

A claw descended from the shadows of the ceiling to grab at her by the waist and yank Emmy up into the rafters.

Drip.

"Sybelle?"

A snort.

You wake, and speak for your ex-dead lover, not your wife? Oh we have so much to unpack for you, Mr Graul.

He was left.

The lights settled.

The room was empty.

Doctor Green, in his resplendent Black Coat, stood before him.



"Well," he drawled, "Let's get to it, shall we?"

Drip.

TAG: @Lady_Belligerent (combo), @darthbernael (combo), @Mitth_Fisto (combo), @Mira Grau (combo), @ShinSkywalker (combo, please open a PM and reply there), @HanSolo29 (combo)

 

An interesting combo with @Sinrebirth, thank you!

IC: Sybelle and Doctor Black
Bedlam


She didn’t move, why bother? Wouldn’t she die soon?

“I don’t care,” she snapped at Doctor Green, “Doctor Black can kriff off too!”

Aryan!

She heard him! He called her name!

“ARYAN!”

Sybelle began to thrash, she was oblivious to any pain from restraints, she had to fight and get to Aryan.

“Aryan,” she gasped repeatedly.

"Aryan, Aryan, Aryan," came a deep voice.

It resolved into a Black Coat wielding a double-ended stave, who dropped his hood, revealing a tall, pony-tailed man.



"Is that all the Chiss woman thinks of?"

His blade arched out and severed her bonds before she would even realise.

"Do you not have your own personality? Your own destiny?"

She sneered at the alleged doctor and said, “go to hell.”

Her own destiny? Why did this creep care, she certainly didn’t care anymore. That had been taken away from her more than once.

He had cut off the restraints, which she ignored on purpose.

Sybelle would act crazy enough that maybe he would go away and leave her, without restraints. She would escape, but not before she found Aryan.

"I already have," the man said drily. "But let us be more formal." His tone had such an eloquent quality. Core Worlder, definitely. "I am Doctor Black. I am responsible for your care..."

His tone drifted off. "Why do you think you are here, Sybelle?"

She laughed and decided why hold back, there really was nothing to lose.

“I’m sure Norin Graul had something to do with my arrival here,” she said and finally gazed over at her doctor.

“What’s the plan, doc?” She asked. “If I behave myself, will I get pudding or extra time for recess?”

Sybelle was no fool, she knew this was a punishment, and it wasn’t going to be pleasant. “I’m sure you know exactly who arranged for me to be here, Doctor.”

"Perhaps your heart betrayed you, and led you here," a sly grin. "But nonetheless, I accepted the Superior's assignment to take care of you, of course. You do need a Doctor, after all, to disabuse you of the notion that you are fated to be with that Aryan Graul."

"Unless you can supply me a concrete reason for why you should be?"

A slight quirk of a smile. "Perhaps you should recall the reasons you left him in the first place."

She shook her head, “that’s a lie! I never left Aryan Graul, that’s slander spread by his wretched wife and father.” Those two should be here in this hell, Sybelle couldn’t imagine what she did to deserve this.

“You cannot erase the bond between us, Aryan and I were always destined to be together,” she paused, concerned that she was saying too much to this doctor. Still she was angry, how dare they think they can remove the ancient ties that bound them. “I’m not sure I can explain, but our souls… they’re entwined,” she said, now calmed somewhat. “You cannot sever the ties that bind our souls, nor would we ever want that.”

Aryan, they want to keep us apart, she willed her voice to be heard by her lover, even just an impression would tell him that she was fighting any disabuse. Someone wants us to forget… but I will never forget our love.

Abruptly he backhanded her. “No Force usage here.” His tone was firm. “If I sense you trying it again, you’ll acquire more than a bruise.”

His voice was deep, threatening. “The Force hardly works here as it is, but we would not want to rouse the Bedlam Pulsar now, would we?”

“Aryan Graul is married. With children. He has gotten over you. You can’t keep living in his shadow.” His hand clawed. “Your mother was a Sith apprentice to Lord Tyranus. Do you not wish to take her aborted path as your own!”

She scowled and turned away.

He could beat her all he wanted, and she would survive.

Norin Graul had hit Sybelle too.

Bruises healed, but the words cut deep.

Maybe Aryan was over her… she’d been told Aryan didn’t want her. They had even threatened her and said he never loved her, that he just wanted her to go away.

“I don’t have a path,” Sybelle murmured, “go away.”

He squatted in front of her. “Why don’t you have one? Your mother did. A Sith apprentice to one of the most powerful Dark Lord’s in history. Accomplished, in her own way, , even if briefly in the limelight.”

“I don’t want to be in the limelight, I’ve never wanted that,” she said softly.

Sybelle didn’t expect this person to understand, she also didn’t trust anyone who would slap her and then moments later try and talk to her. She was sure this clown was the psycho here, not her.

“How do you pretend to know so much about my mother?” Sybelle whispered.

She bent her knees against her chest and wrapped her arms around them. It would be perfect if she could simply disappear and wake up somewhere else far away.

“I did my research,” he sniffed, and pulled out a datapad. “In here is the entirety of her life story. From her early SkyWalker tests, the recording of her wedding, both maternity logs, the funeral she attended for her honour brother, her trial, her faked execution, and a variety of communities between her and her master, and her master and his master about her…” He sounded grave. “I’ve even a few clone trooper records of her battles and final moments.”

He didn’t hand her the datapad.

That sleemo actually sniffed at her, she wished that Force use wasn’t restricted because she would use it to get rid of this guy.

If Sybelle was honest, she didn’t want to see any of what Dr. Black had just listed. Her memories of her mother were precious few, and she didn’t want them tainted by seeing the final moments of her life.

“I’m not my mother,” Sybelle said, “I have no desire to be an apprentice to anyone, I’m my own person.”

"Good!" Dr Black sat, crossed legged, his rather oversized spear between his boots and laying on his shoulder.

"So what do you want?" A wave of his hand. "Apart from Aryan Graul."

“If I tell you,” she said slowly, “will you let me go?” Sybelle asked.

What did she want? That was easy, she wanted her life back. For Aryan to still want to be with her… and for their daughter to be with them.

No, she had moved on.

Sybelle had used funds she’d saved to open a small shop selling herbs, that’s where she should be. That was her life… for now.

“I guess that means you won’t let me speak to him?” She asked quietly.

"He's not here," he said drily. "I can't let you speak to him even if I wanted to."

A shrug. "So, tell me what you want, and sure, I'll let you out of this room."

Sybelle sighed and laid her head against her knees. This was something she didn’t want to discuss, she just wanted to be left alone.

“You cannot give me what I really want,” she answered. “I’ve accepted that what I want is out of my reach, and I have moved on.” No good would come of her discussing her private life with this doctor… if he even was a doctor. What kind of doctor strikes their patients? And he was clearly a liar since she had heard Aryan… felt Aryan.

But, cooperating might be a means to escape.

“After I moved on, I’ve wanted to heal those who have suffered from psychological trauma. I want to soothe the trauma and restore their mind,” she said. It was the truth, and it was a goal so massive that she could only hope to achieve.

She suffered unspeakable trauma escaping with only her life when Dooku came to slaughter them, in fact there were times the nightmares returned. The feeling of being hunted, and her parents being extinguished in the Force. That trauma was similar to her daughter dying, those were memories she kept locked away because that pain has no relief, it only settles into a dull ache that sparks into an inferno again when you least expect it.

“I would find my peace if I could help the innocent victims of psychological trauma, I’ve only begun to read about psychotraumatology, and I believe that the Force could be used to repair the damage.”

Dr Black looked intrigued. "You want to be a Doctor?" He smiled, carnivorous. "A Black Coat? A colour for a name?"

"Do we have a Doctor Blue?"

He thought. "Ah, yes, we do. Unpleasant sort."

"I could introduce you to the Superior, and you'd be very much welcome."

She sat up laughing.

“You really expect me to believe that you’d allow me into your little society?” Sybelle asked. “I know better than to trust that sort of rubbish, besides I’ve always been able to take my beat downs and grow from the experience.”

She glanced up at Doctor Black’s face and lunged forward with a Force augmented slap aimed at his smug face, while shouting, “I’ll never trust a man who strikes a woman!”

A snap of his fingers, and a star seemed to erupt behind Sybelle's eyes -

She would tumble, and he would catch her.

Before she lost consciousness, he would tsk. "Can't trust you with something as dangerous as the Force, it seems. I'll take it away from you for now, I reckon." His boot slammed into her chest, and her very last realisation would be that he'd stripped her of the Force.

She awoke in a now-empty room.

The door was open; ajar, even.

It was cold.

Sybelle sat up and huddled on the bare floor.

Her chest ached, the bastard had kicked her in the chest just before stripping her of the Force.

“I was right,” she said aloud in a shaky voice, “you’re a liar and I can’t trust you.”

She slumped over and went back to sleep.

Tag: @Sinrebirth @HanSolo29

 

IC: Mer-el and Doctor Blue
Bedlam Asylum

The voice spoke once again, as loud and as…annoying…as the first time. The level of scents filling Mer-el’s snout diminished as he heard a sound, making him assume that one of the number of beings around had disappeared.

He heard the voice speaking to him as well, a new name. ’Doctor Blu…’ the thought growled through his mind, cut off slightly as metallic tentacles whipped around him, his body and the seat he was in flying through an opening.

The light was different, felt different, as he was pulled along. The pupils of his feline eyes changed shape, adjusting, and more coming into focus. His claws rasped free, sinking into the chair as he was moved.

Soon…soon he’d be in the presence of a being, something, someone he could affect, of that his disjointed mind seemed to believe. He had to strike back, gain some control of the situation as he mind wasn’t letting him control his thoughts. And this place had to pay for taking him.

There was a Black Coat, and he pulled down his hood as he spoke. "So you're the cat."

A superiority to his expression was evident, but the scars on his face marred an otherwise handsome Sephi.



"Have we met before?"

Fangs bared at the question, golden slit pupil eyes turned to the figure, brows dropping down to narrow them as Mer-el looked at the speaker. The jowls of his mouth blew out and his whiskers quivered at a snort.

”How…unimaginative to call me a cat…” The words rumbled, were almost growled out. A yowled laugh followed, ”Of course…coming from a group so unimaginative to name their doctors after their hair color I suppose I should expect it.”

His head turned from side to side in a negative shake of it. ”I think I’d remember if I gave you those scars, would have been ashamed for not having ripped your face off. So no, we have not met. I’m sure I would remember a blue haired idiot in what I’d believe he thinks is an imposing black coat.”

"I am sure," said Doctor Blue, drily. His gloved hand touched his face; his scars. "I am indeed marked, cat, but I only asked because you appear familiar."

An absent shrug. "Perhaps you can tell me why you are here."

”You mean like most of you humans look alike to us?” Mer-el asked with a disgusted but amused snort. He shook his head, wincing at the pain that still lingered. His body flexed as he tested his bonds once again. ”You tell me, last I recall I was on a training mission, my Master…did…something…something that flashes through my nightmares…and then I was here.” he growled out.

“Tell me about these nightmares, and I shall tell you what I know. After all, I did ask a question and you replied with… sarcasm?” A flutter of his fingers and the bonds shredded apart. “A gift, for you have earned it already, I assure you.”

Sitting up Mer’el’s fangs appeared as he grinned. His paws flexed, his claws flexing and slipping from their sheaths. ”I was, am, a Sith.” His claws returned to their sheaths, reaching up and rubbing his head, flattening his ears for a moment. ”I can see…feel…know that my Master…each time he breaks my mind…shatters it…and feeds upon me.” he got out. ”Which, as the stronger, is his right but I wake each time as I feel my soul shattering.”

"Feeding?" A tone of derision. "So you remember less than you know, or knew, you say? A Sith apprentice that is food. You are not a Sith, you are a fool." He turned aside, looking up to the ceiling, to the glass window, illuminated by the distant pulsar. "You must realise that."

While of a felinoid form there were none of the indicators a ‘lesser’ cat would give. One moment Mer’el was sitting up, listening. The next, on silent paws, having damped whatever of his thoughts and emotions as he could feel, he flashed towards the doctor, prepared to rend the being limb from limb. Not even a growl betrayed him, this was a moment he was sure he might not have again.

Not even looking, he gave a snap of fingers, and the shadows seemed to animate, clawed creatures launching for him; their eyes were red, their bodies indistinct, but their nails glinted, sharp, in the light.

"Now, now. Please don't consider my manners a sign of weakness."

One of the creatures was suddenly burying its claw in Mer'el's gut.

A grunt and rivulets of blood that spilled from either side of his maw was all that Mer’el was willing to give this…Doctor as a response. The pain was focusing him, feeding into him the strength that had been sorely lacking recently. One arm swung round, in a circle, as the other swiped down at the arm buried in him. His claws glinted in the electric blue light of lightning crackling between them as he swung his arms, intent on destroying or pushing back these shadow foes.

A gesture, and the creature vanished, as did the wound - and the lightning. "You can't use the Force here, my friend. It is... twisted. Too dangerous for a child like you."

A star erupted inside Mer'el's minds eye, and he would drop to the floor, unconscious.

When he next came to, the room was empty, and he couldn't feel the Force.

It had been stripped from him.

The felinoid came to his feet, in a crouch. His eyes gleamed, a feral light in them. He couldn’t feel, not like he had before, drawing a deep rumbling growl. His ears flattened against his skull as he looked around, claws flexing. ”You blue idiot…as though I need the Force to kill.” he muttered.

But his antagonist was no longer evident.

They had left.

The door was unlocked; ajar even.

Nose twitching at the scents coming from the open door Mer’el’s jowls huffed as he blew out another amused breath. ”Yeah right…it’s that easy…This is definitely some Force induced krayt dragon dung.” came from him in an almost growling tone.

Still crouched, his paws slid over the floor, shifting from side to side as he approached the door. His nose continued to twitch, sniffing the air as far as his senses could reach. Moving behind the door, he made sure he was out of sight of anyone moving down the hallway, crouched and waiting to see who would next darken his door.

TAG: @Sinrebirth

 

OOC: The following is a combo with Sinrebirth – thank you so much!!

IC: Aryan Graul and Dr. Green
Cell, Bedlam

The harsh light faded, revealing an empty room; the others had disappeared—

—had they ever been there at all?

There was a pause as Aryan slowly propped himself up on one elbow, his eyes blinking rapidly to allow his vision to acclimate to the new environmental conditions—or maybe it was a vain attempt to will the others back into existence. He knew he had seen them. There were five distinct shapes. Who else had the deranged doctor been speaking to?

Of course, he didn’t want to consider the alternative. He hadn’t imagined them. He didn’t require psychiatric treatment, nor was he mentally ill. It was simply a product of his surroundings; Bedlam had a reputation. The entire process had undoubtedly been orchestrated by his father, and he wasn’t about to yield and give the old fool any satisfaction.

And yet…

What of Sybelle?

Had he truly heard her?

Or—

Aryan clenched his jaw and angled his chin to gaze up at the form of Dr. Green. The man loomed over him, almost leering. At that moment, all he saw was another one of his father’s henchmen, which brought a scowl to his features. He would not grant him the decency of proper respect. Anyone who served Norin Graul did not deserve that basic right.

"I won’t be intimidated," Aryan growled with a sneer, ignoring the man’s taunting about Sybelle and his wife. "Do you think this will break me after I spent two years on the run? I almost expected it. My father likes to believe he’s an ingenious man, but he’s terribly predictable. It’s pitiful. Do you want to be responsible for abetting a heinous crime? Kidnapping and harassment of a public official? I may no longer serve on the Galactic Senate, but I still hold plenty of clout. The sentence will be pretty steep."

"You’re in an insane asylum, deary." He said with a dry chuckle. "A lie repeated enough times becomes the truth, y’know. In fact, I’d say you know that better than most."

"But don’t ya think hallucinating about your dead ex-girlfriend is an indication that ya might have gone off the deep end?"

He wagged a gloved finger at Aryan. "You can be honest with your doctor, don’t ya worry."

A thin smile touched Aryan’s lips, his gaze unwavering. He wasn’t fazed by the man’s taunting. He knew better than to believe the impossible; that Sybelle was still alive. It was clear from the military reports he had seen that she had died in the field of battle. They wouldn’t lie about that—would they?

For a moment, his resolve faltered, though he vowed not to second-guess himself. Not now. It was best to ignore the issue until he had an opportunity to reevaluate the details, if only for his own peace of mind.

Angling his chin, Aryan’s scowl deepened. "Lies, upon lies," he repeated with a derisive scoff. "You’re right. It does begin to become truth after a while—but only if you’re not acquainted with the game. It works both ways; I know exactly what you’re trying to do. You want to break me down, convince me of my alleged delirium by planting snares to lead me astray. That’s what you’ve done with Sybelle. I assume Norin informed you of that… vulnerability."

He pushed himself up into a sitting position and shook his head incredulously. "You won’t succeed. It doesn’t change the fact that you’re holding me hostage."

"Well then," he said, amused. "Let's just play along with your little fantasy, shall we?" He fluttered a card; a playing card? It vanished into a sleeve. He looked to the door to the room, and it clicked open, loudly. "You're free to go, if you want. I'm not going to hold you here against your will, my dear."

He stepped aside. "You need to free yourself from the prison in here, first," Doctor Green said, tapping the side of his head. "So, let's get you to the Stardust , and you can think about it."

Aryan stared longingly at the open door, the creaking hinge seeming to invite his way toward freedom. Before he realized what was happening, he began to rise shakily to his feet, his actions almost instinctual. He pulled the tattered blanket closer to his body to conceal his naked form, his bare feet producing a squelching sound against the stone floor as he padded forward—

But then he hesitated, his chapped lips parting with a revelation.

"The Stardust," he repeated plainly, his voice barely above a whisper. "No, she wouldn’t be here. I left her behind on purpose, in my family’s care. The circumstances wouldn’t allow me to travel under her flag. It would’ve been too conspicuous."

His eyes hardened as he glanced back over his shoulder to scrutinize the cloaked figure. It was obvious the doctor knew about his passion for his private yacht. Aryan had purchased and modified the CR90 Corellian Corvette himself, spending years perfecting her unique profile. It was telling that the man had decided to exploit that as a means to placate him.

It was also a critical mistake.

"You lie," Aryan sneered gruffly. "The Stardust isn’t here; you have no intention of setting me free. This," he released one corner of the blanket to gesture wildly at the door, "... this is a trap… or a test."

"It was the ship in which you were delivered to Bedlam, deary," he said, another flutter of a playing card. "But it's up to you. I have places to be, and babysitting the insane is not game enough for me." A snap of a finger, and a purple portal appeared behind Dr. Green. "I leave you to your own devices."

He stepped into, and through.

And was gone.

Aryan stared at the space where the doctor had stood moments before, his ears still buzzing from the whirling of displaced air, though the sensation soon passed. A profound silence settled over the chamber in its wake, allowing him a moment to fully grasp the veracity of the situation. The doctor revealed that he had arrived on Bedlam on the Stardust, which meant… someone had commandeered his private yacht to guarantee his transfer. Only one person dared to cross him and attempt something so careless.

His father.

He felt the sudden urge to sprint through the open doorway and seek out his old man for betraying him, but he knew that would be a foolish gesture. That’s what the doctor expected of him; he wanted him to wander into the labyrinth that lay beyond this chamber. He maintained that it was either a trap or a test.

Aryan clenched his jaw and snorted softly. He wasn’t about to play their games. Instead, he pulled the blanket closer to his neck to protect against the chill and settled back down on the floor.

If they were so intent on breaking him, let them come to him.

TAG: @Sinrebirth; @Lady_Belligerent (for mention)

 

IC: Doctor Gray, Doctor Green, Doctor Blue, Doctor Black, Doctor Brown

They gathered in the darkest heart of the Asylum.

"Well, that went splendidly..."

"My one is so dour, all animalistic intentions..."

"At least you don't have a spoilt child..."

"I'd rather you that over the old man..."

"Are they all temporally displaced?"

"Not all, but most..."

"Do you think this will work?"

"It will. Or they'll, well, suffer."

"None of them have the Force anymore, at least. Stripped, taken, if they had it at all."

"There will be only two ways for them to get it back."

A guffaw.

"And we won't be giving it back, so there is only the one way."

The Five cackled.

Drip.

Drip.​

Drip.​

Doctor Gray left Zhorrid to her demons, but in very short order, padding by, would be Mer-el, able to peer into their room, and see her.

This was the first pair who met each other as they traversed the Corridors of Dream.

There was a crackle of a speaker. A winsome voice, all sarcasm, told the fate of Emmy Saxon.​

It would interrupt whatever they said to each other.

Meanwhile, as Sybelle slept, Zathras came upon her room.

Her door was open, unlocked.

There was a crackle of a speaker. An arch voice, all malevolence, told the fate of Emmy Saxon.​

It would awaken Sybelle.

Aryan was alone. Nobody came for him.

Nobody.

Nobody.

Nobody.

There was a crackle of a speaker. A malicious voice, all bemusement, told the fate of Emmy Saxon.​

"Maybe we should get going," came a voice in Aryan's head.

His voice.

The Last Patient and the Red-Haired Doctor​

She didn't say anything.

Didn't give him anything to work with.

So she died.

Dr Red smirked.



"What a waste. But it is what it is."

He produced a comlink and spoke up.

"Patients of the Bedlam Asylum, an unfortunate accident involving a furnace has befallen Emmy Saxon. I am sorry to say that she's dead. Please do be careful as you wander the halls of the Asylum."

TAG: @Mira Grau, @darthbernael (one combo with the GM), @Lady_Belligerent, @Mitth_Fisto (one combo with the GM), @HanSolo29 (combo with the GM)

One dead.​

One done.​

One less.

 

OOC: Combo post with @Mitth_Fisto as Zathras and @Sinrebirth as ?, thanks guys!

IC:
Bedlam

Sybelle groaned over the unnerving static and voice over the intercom.

Why? Why won’t you leave me alone?

Her spirit felt crushed. Aryan had moved on, she wasn’t so stupid that she couldn’t see that. Sybelle was so sure that Aryan was here too, but maybe it was all in her mind. Maybe she was insane,

Sybelle rolled to her back, opened her eyes, and gasped when she saw someone near her door.

“GO AWAY!” She shouted, and then scuttled like a crab to the far wall.

“Why won’t they leave me alone? I hate this place” she whimpered.

Another burst of static came from the intercom along with some nonsense about a death.

“I DON’T CARE!” Sybelle screamed.

Zathras find what Zathras not expect to find. A woman, crying. Crying out.

Announcement came, Zathras hear, yes, he hear.

Zathras no care. No. No care.

Woman crying? That.

Zathras admit, that ruin mood of Zathras stroll. That before she scream at Zathras.

"Zathras sorry!" he said with raised hands. "Zathras not sure where, where?" he added with a wide shrug. "You no care, but Zathras lost. Yes. Sad state. . .tsk-tsk. Poor Zathras no know what to do."

“I don’t know what to do… Well, that’s not true. I can’t actually do what needs to be done because Dr. Black lied to me, and he… he stole something from me that was priceless,” she said, teeth clinched.

Sybelle knew that she had no purpose, and she had no one… they were always taken away from her.

“I don’t want to be anywhere,”she whispered, “please leave me be.”

They won’t get any pleasure from torturing me.

Zathras nodded and backed away slightly. "Alright lady. Zathras no want be where Zathras not wanted." with a sigh he nodded. "Zathras took open door, Zathras keep going. Maybe Zathras find good place behind one." with a shrug he turned to go.

His words didn’t sit well with Sybelle.

In fact, they angered her.

“You go ahead and be a coward!” She shouted. “One day you’ll look back and see that’s exactly what they wanted, you’re literally allowing them to have their way!”

She stumbled to her feet and pointed at the departing stranger. “I was a coward,” she spat, “I conformed to their demands and threats for a long time, but never again! Don’t give in or they’ll ruin you… or just crawl away, go ahead”

Sybelle shook her head, pitying the being, “I don’t know why I even bother,” she said.

Her outburst had been such a waste of strength. That realization only made her mad at herself for trying to save a stranger. She never could save herself, so how the hell could she save another? She sank back down to the floor.

Zathras stopped and listened to her. It was Zathras had to admit, a rant. Zathras was now gladder to leave this woman behind. "So, this is an Asylum." Zathras simply responded with a nod. With a more cautious grin and nod Zathras backed away keeping the woman in his vision before turning to continue down the halls.

“Coward!” Sybelle growled. “Go ahead, that’s exactly what they want.”

She looked for something to throw, and wished that she had her own clothing, her own fine boots, but Sybelle decided the cheap shoes they had forced on her would work. It took a second to wiggle the uncomfortable shoe off, which stoked her anger more.

“Hey!” She shouted. The bastard may have stolen the Force from her, but he didn’t take her strength and she had strong arms. Sybelle put all her muscle into flinging the shoe at the departing stranger.

“Maybe that will knock some sense into you, coward.”

It felt good to throw something, so good that she wrenched the other shoe off and hurled it with deadly aim.

“If you give in to these people they will devour your very soul! They will own you for the rest of your life, do you want to end up their puppet?” She yelled louder.

“They did it to me, and this is the punishment if you stand up to them,” she dropped back down to the floor exhausted. “At least I have my dignity, they haven’t stolen that yet.”

Zathras sighed, this one was no fun whatsoever! Why Zathras even come out here? Right. Zathras no know there ones like this - buzzkill. Zathras spotted a light switch and feeling the ineffectual tantrum of shoes hitting his back, Zathras glared back at the woman. "Zathras not know what you speak. Zathras see open door, take. You sit in room and cower where you say they put you? Zathras think you forget to live a little. Stay, rot where you drop." A shrug. "Zathras done with you now."

Zathras flicked lightswitch killing the lights and continued walking from memory to where he was going. Which was the always fascinating unknown ahead of Zathras.

Sybelle shot to her feet and hurried to turn on the lights, “you have no idea what happens here in the dark,” Sybelle said. She was calmer but still had an edge that she would not be messed with. “Do you honestly believe they’ll let you roam free?” Sybelle asked.

“You’d manage better if you rest and recharge when they allow it,” her voice lowered into a hushed whisper. “But, you don’t seem interested in advice.”

Sybelle turned and went back to lay down, she kept her back to the stranger and said, “never turn my lights out again.”

Zathras, hunched and with half lidded eyes spoke with a lilt to his gruff voice as Zathras looked back at the irate woman. “Of course deary, Zathras understands. Many children need light, yes. Need to hide under the covers. Yes. May you find your blanky and corner soon that the monsters cannot get you!”

Zathras tittered at that, before walking away with a decided chuckle.

The lights flickered once, twice, but did return.

However, as Sybelle turned back, she would notice one of the shadows hadn't vanished.

Indeed, it hung at the corner of the room, as if it had briefly been moving when the lights were switched back on under that cover of darkness.

Caught out.

The shadow had, though, a glossy, liquid aspect to it.

And then...

It pulsed.

A heartbeat?

Her breath caught in her throat.

Sybelle backed herself into the corner while staring at what she’d seen, her body wracked with shivers.

She had planned on shutting the door for privacy, but not now, besides there was no privacy here… in hell.

Zathras looked back at the odd noise. Twisting harshly a crooked grin spread on Zathras’ features. Zathras licked tongue over pointed teeth and lips. “You gonna deal deary?”

Zathras Looked over and that side glance said all Zathras need know. This one wanting a blanket to hide under against the horror of the universe wouldn’t be doing anything. “Zathras wish had Zathras’ bag.” Zathras said as came fast walking back to the room. Long nails reaching forward grab whatever it was by both ends.

It accepted his claws, and then began to engulf him.

Cloying; it was sticky.

Embracing; it was strong.

It was surrounding him, seeking his throat, his face -

One wall blinked.

As in, an immense Eye appeared.

It oriented to look at Sybelle, and Zathras, then closed and vanished.

She steeled herself to this new development. It had been startling, but it wasn’t her doing, surely these doctors could see that.

”You stirred things up by screwing with the lights,” Sybelle said in a bored tone, “I don’t know why you didn’t stay in your room.” She sighed and shook her head.

For a moment she considered running, but her instinct was to stay put with the kriffing lights on.

Suddenly she stood and marched over to the lighting control panel, she turned them on and went back to her corner to sit on the floor.

Zathras was in odd way. Yes. Very odd. Zathras was not sure whether Zathras should bite, rend, or try shove thing at other things!

Eye not there, anymore. Zathras try twist and shred, but Zathras know no good. Turning Zathras looked at woman with fear and pleading in Zathras' eyes. "Your room! Not Zathras!" With that Zathras leapt at her, wriggling goo creature first.

Sybelle watched the stranger and opened her mouth to speak a warning, then changed her mind. She shook her head thinking how her warnings so far had been dismissed, and decided not to bother.

She had to look after herself, which would be easy if he hadn’t entered her space.

Now he was going too far by shoving that thing at her!

Sybelle leapt to the side to avoid contact and shouted, “no you don’t! Get away from me!”

There was a strong urge to run, but instead she stood in the doorway. This was her room and she would give the orders. “Get out of here NOW!”

Everything had been fine until her space had been invaded, maybe not exactly fine but she was alone. This calamity was unnecessary and she wanted it gone.

”I said be gone and take that thing with you!”

With a big sigh she shook her fist at the wall and shouted at it, “I’m not stupid you know, and I’m aware that you’re always watching, so stop the theatrics designed to intimidate me.”

This was her room and she would exercise her rights not to be bothered by another prisoner.

”OUT!”

Zathras not know what do, looked woman quizzically. "Your room, your things." before Zathras pushed forward the thing at her chest, moving to shove it and Zathras against her. Chest to chest, with it between them.

The creature seemed to orient, watching him go…

… and then turning back to look at Sybelle.

Oh, hell no!

Sybelle was offended that this stranger kept trying to shove the gel creature at her.

If only that sleemo doctor hadn’t stolen the Force from me, this is one time that I would be snapping a neck.

”You asked for it,” Sybelle yelled, “so it’s yours now! I think it likes you.”

Then against her better judgment, she stepped into the corridor and yelled for help, “I need help!” She screamed. “This person is assaulting me, he entered my room without my permission and won’t leave. Help!”

Zathras moved after crazy woman, shifting and struggling with thing. Zathras in turn tripped towards her, Zathras‘ arms stuck to the thing prevent Zathras from bracing for the impact. Her or floor, either was Zathras sure this hurt.

The creature tripped, and Zathras was atop it, as it struggled to reach her, cloying… desperately. Whatever it had wanted from Zathras… it no longer wanted it, it seemed…

Sybelle watched the struggle in horror, “what the -.”

She slowly backed up watching as the blob crept towards her.

“Where is the bloody staff?” Sybelle murmured. “You can bet that they would be all over if I didn’t want them.”

Why? All she wanted was to stay in her room, far away from any whacko, but no. The crazy one picks me to torture.

“I want to speak to the director! Hello? HELP!” She shrieked.

Zathras stood and kicked thing at crazy woman! “Zathras not take not Zathras‘ thing!”

Tag: @Sinrebirth @Mitth_Fisto

 

OOC: The following is a combo with Sinrebirth – thank you so much!!

IC: Aryan Graul and a Mysterious Voice
Cell, Bedlam

It was difficult to discern when he had fallen asleep, but it wasn’t until the overhead announcement roused him from his apparent slumber that Aryan realized he had drifted off. When he considered the deplorable state of his accommodations, it was truly a remarkable feat that he had managed to get any rest at all. And yet, he wasn’t about to question it. Things could be worse.

Far worse.

Judging by the fate of the Saxon girl—whoever that was, it wasn’t uncommon for the house staff to dispose of their patients when the situation became too strenuous for them to handle. It was as if they didn’t want to contend with any adversity, or maybe it was a method of control. They wanted to intimidate the other inmates into submission. That certainly sounded like an enterprise his father would endorse and provide funding—

"Maybe we should get going," came a voice in the darkness.

Aryan trailed off, lifting his chin to stare into the murky gloom. As far as he was aware, the room remained empty except for the relentless dripping of an elusive water feature—but despite the aggravation, that wouldn’t help him isolate the source of the voice.



Had he even heard it at all?

Or was it all in his mind? He could’ve sworn it sounded similar to his own…

A short chuckle escaped his throat at that notion. The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on him; he found himself imprisoned in a mental facility for the deranged, and now he begins to hear strange voices?

Nevertheless, he couldn’t resist the temptation.

He responded, if only to retain a modicum of hope.

"And wander into the trap?" A derisive scoff. "No, I’m safer here. If they have to come to me, it keeps me in control."

There was no reply.

Instead, a different voice spoke up.

Are you he?

It had a mellifluous element to it.

Aryan swallowed, the sound seeming to echo in his ears. He hadn’t expected the voice to transform suddenly; it was as if it had adopted a completely new persona. This development compounded his anxiety and made him question the source. Did it belong to a physical presence… or was it confined to his head?

… was it even the same voice?

His lips parted as he glanced around in the darkness, squinting his eyes in the hope of identifying a tangible shape that would ease his weary mind.

"I don’t know, uh—who?" Aryan replied tentatively. "Who are you looking for?"

Someone to break me out.

The voice really was different. It seemed to reverberate, without shaking Aryan's self.

"Break you out?" he repeated tonelessly, reaching up to rub at his temples as if that would help him concentrate. Unfortunately, it failed to bring him clarity; the voice remained elusive and far away.

Exhaling heavily, Aryan shook his head in a final effort to center himself. "Wouldn’t we all like that?" He allowed his arms to fall back to his sides, stared at the open doorway, and guffawed. It was a mocking, jeering sound—however, he wasn’t sure if it was at his own expense or if he intended to disparage the disembodied voice.

"It won’t be that easy," he continued after his laughter subsided. "Not if my father is responsible for this. That open door isn’t a coincidence." He nodded again toward the unrestricted entryway. "As soon as I cross that threshold, I’m at their—his mercy. He’ll take great pleasure in watching me suffer while I attempt to escape their labyrinth… if it’s even possible to escape."

Aryan pursed his lips, his gaze growing distant.

"Did you know he kept my sister detained here? I was too young to really remember her; she just disappeared."

Sister… yes, I recall someone with a similar taste to you. You’re so… small, it’s hard. Open yourself to me, and I will guide you to her. Then we can both begin to be free.

Aryan rocked back on his haunches, staring into the darkness. It was a tempting offer, one he could not immediately dismiss as mere fabrication. He had waited decades for this moment; to reconnect with his sister and hold a meaningful conversation with her.

And yet—

Kriff!

No, he was a fool! He should’ve never mentioned Kandri in the first place. It was a deeply personal matter, and he couldn’t fathom what had possessed him to divulge such sensitive information. He silently reprimanded himself for acting in a manner contrary to his impassive nature. At this point, he could only attribute his unusual behavior to the ominous foreboding that seemed to penetrate this place. It made him desperate to escape; to find hope.

Once again, that’s what ultimately persuaded him to answer the strange voice.

"I… don’t know what you mean," Aryan uttered softly, narrowing his eyes. "I can’t see you; I don’t even know who you are. That doesn’t exactly instill much confidence in your ability to help me."

I am everywhere, and nowhere. But I am here. It is hard… we are speaking, but you are small… smaller than I. So small.

There was a tilt of the head.

They’re going to notice. Go; do not let the Liquid Shadows touch you. Listen for your heartbeat. It will copy that, first.

Then the contact was severed.

Into that silence.

There was a reverberation.

A… heartbeat.

Behind him?

"Wait!" Aryan shouted involuntarily, suddenly desperate for answers. He winced as he eased himself hastily to his feet. "Liquid Shadows? What the hell does that mean? Godsdammit, don’t leave me hanging—kriff!"

Even above the rumble of his own voice, which echoed loudly around the empty chamber, he could hear the steady cadence of a heartbeat. It seemed to manifest out of the silence as if triggered by his benefactor’s warning. That’s what made Aryan suspect it was all in his head. Stress could have a detrimental effect on the body, and in this case, it made sense for it to cause hallucinations.

To verify this theory, Aryan placed a hand on his chest to feel the beating of his own heart, expecting it to synchronize with the sound he heard inside his mind…

… but it failed to do so.

They were different; two separate entities. He wasn’t imagining it. It was as if the walls had come alive and adopted their own circulatory system.

Was this the Liquid Shadow his benefactor had alluded to?

At this point, Aryan was too distraught to remain behind and find out. Uttering another curse under his breath, he willed his stiffened leg muscles to propel him forward. He wavered several steps before staggering out into the corridor beyond.

The heartbeat calmed. It became external. Nearby. The corner of the room, the shadow… it moved. Slid forward. First, it had a glossy element to it, and then it oozed forward…

… an Eye suddenly appeared on the walls of the room, looked at the liquid creature, looked at Aryan, blinked, and vanished…

… the shadow had his heartbeat! And it was approaching, from the inner part of the room, opposite the door…

It took Aryan several seconds to comprehend the shift in both his perceptive and sensory awareness. What he once accepted as reality now felt like a horrific nightmare. He could deal with an ominous shadow; a prolonged period of extreme darkness had a tendency to play tricks on the mind.

But the monstrous eye that appeared on the wall and blinked at him?

That was harder to rationalize.

However, it was the heartbeat that, once again, brought everything into perspective. It evolved into something more; something more sinister. Where Aryan had previously detected two distinct rhythms, there was now only one.

His own.

The shadow creature—the Liquid Shadow?—had accomplished what his benefactor had warned him about. It successfully found a way to emulate his heartbeat.

Aryan balked at that revelation, even as the shadow inched closer to the doorway. He stared at it for a long moment, his hand still pressed against his chest as if to safeguard his heart from further encroachment.

With a quiet curse, he finally turned and bolted down the corridor.

It leapt, a tentacle grip shooting out and attempting to ensnare his ankle and pull him back -

Despite his scramble to escape, the creature pounced and managed to strike his leg with a fleshy appendage. Aryan unleashed a startled yelp and flopped to the deckplates on his stomach, losing his balance as the Shadow tried to reinforce its grip.

However, he didn’t stay tangled for long.

The Shadow’s hold was tenuous at best, further compounded by the sudden panic that rose in Aryan’s chest. It was nearly impossible for the creature to establish a firm hold with the way he began to thrash about. As adrenaline coursed through his body, desperation became an incentive—and in this case, he used that to his advantage.

Clenching his teeth, Aryan mustered his strength to plant a violent kick directly into the Shadow’s bulky form. He wasn’t sure whether he inflicted damage, but he certainly felt the creature slacken. It was a brief lapse, but it was enough to allow him to break free.

Aryan grunted as he clambered to his feet and began to run.

TAG: @Sinrebirth

 

IC: Mer-el and Zhorrid - Fun with Mira Grau and Sinre
Bedlam Asylum

Mer-el knew he’d had his connection to the Force ripped away, had felt it, and knew that the doctor was responsible. But, his wary watch at the door proved fruitless, the doctor hadn’t returned. With the door open, he began a slow prowl out of his room, his wide paws moving silently on the floor of the hallway.

His ears twitched as he listened for the sounds of anyone moving down the hall but the only sounds seemed to be those of others that were here. The scents reaching his nose told him those others had the same scent as those who had been in the room with the overly bright light.

Eventually, he came to one room, the door open, and someone inside. With a great deal of wariness, his claws half unsheathed, he looked around the frame. What greeted him was the sight of a woman, the pallor to her skin and the color of her eyes suggesting she was Sith.

As he shifted more to take in all of her room, his attention mostly focused on the woman, he heard a very different noise.

There was a crackle of a speaker. A winsome voice, all sarcasm, told the fate of Emmy Saxon.

A growl burbled up from his throat, his claws snapping in and out, as he straightened, fully entering the woman’s doorframe. ”Sith…another Sith…and these damnable doctors, playing games. Which one did you get?”

"Called himself Gray or Gary or something," Zhorrid muttered more to herself than to the newcomer. "Wouldn't call him a doctor though, he was sooo dumb." She never had been a victim, to no one.

”Blue, mine was Blue.” Mer-el stated, with a coughing grunt of laughter. ”So we have stupidity as well as boring among the doctors. Mine was named after his hair color. Something he did not find amusing when I pointed it out. But…who cares, figured a way out of here yet?” He asked the question in a more quiet voice, sure that the entire place was wired to listen in on them.

"Simple," Zhorrid grins, "step one get my powers back, step two zap these rainbow doctors into oblivion, step three reclaim my birthright." She showed the stranger her teeth, "easily enough?"

A rumbling chuckle escaped from Mer-el’s chest. ”Any sufficiently complicated plan sounds simple on the surface.” he mused in a humored tone. ”So, besides an attempt to use me as bait to force them to give your power back, how do you intend to do so?”

"Use you as bait? You are offering yourself?" Zhorrid raised her head. "You know what? I like that likspittle attitude, so I won't kill you just yet. But instead give you a chance to prove your value to me. How does that sound?"

Mer-el gave a coughing bark of laughter. ”Definitely a Sith…” His ears flattened against his head, ”No…I will not give myself as offering to aid your escape. Especially when,” he looked around the cell, near the joins and corners of the room. ”I am quite certain our captors are observing and judging how we all fall out when apparently left to our own devices. I’ve been a servant, of sorts, and never will again, especially for those who arrogantly believe they are my better.”

Indeed, they were.

One of the shadows to the corner of the room shifted, pulsed, even. Once, twice. It was very clearly synchronizing to them... to their respective heartbeats. The resonance of the liquid-shadow began to undulate... to become.

This room was not safe.

At all.

Mer-el appeared to bulk up suddenly. He might not have had access to the Force at the moment but something had tickled his senses in a drastic way. His fur ruffed up, even under the loose fitting clothes he wore as a hissing growl came from his maw.

He’d not entered the room that deeply and his reflex was to step back out into the hall, to put space between himself and the darkness that moved. That what he saw, with his keen vision, made his head cock to the side until he figured it out disturbed him even more.

When his senses lit up his heart began to pound, pouring adrenaline into his system, other chemicals as well, to speed his reflexes. What concerned him now was that both patches were pulsing and one was pulsing in time to his now racing heart.

”I will rend them to shreds first chance I get, they’ve gone too far…” he ground out, pointing out the pulsing patches to the female Sith, from around the doorframe.

"What devilry is this?" Zhorrid jumped to her feet, but having lost her connection to the force couldn't use it to stabilize herself, so she fell back over onto her butt again. "Kriff it!" She yelled as she stumbled back onto her feet again. "Who ever is responsible for this, you will pay!"

The liquid shadow roiled around the room, retreating as if fearful, seizing upon a corner of the ceiling and holding itself above them.

It writhed, and then...

leapt

At Zhorrid!

Mer-el’s tail lashed and then almost hugged itself to his lower body as he saw the darkness move. He hesitated for a moment, then darted into the room again, reaching out to grab the Sith, who seemed very clumsy without her attachment to the Force. ”Come on you…get going unless you want to be taken…” he growled.

Zhorrid held onto the stranger as the shadows began to close in on them. Of course they were coming after her! She clearly was the more dangerous target here. "Not planning to die here!" She told him as she began making her way towards the exit.

The blob slammed into the floor and launched a set of ensnaring tentacles after them -

Zhorrid tried her best to dodge the tentacles, cursing her loss of the force that would have made this easy.

Once the Sith had taken off, Mer-el had started moving as rapidly as he could away from the room. He could hear it moving, feel the displacement of air with his whiskers. His claws snapped out and he used not just the floor but the walls and ceiling as he raced away, darting from one to the other to keep away from whatever bits of darkness were chasing him. At this point it didn’t matter to him whether the Sith was taken or not, only that he was not ensnared.

The creature focused on Zhorrid, while Mer-el ran.

In a moment, it had her bound, drew her in, drew her through, depositing her on the floor…

… and then the liquid darkness leapt for the ceiling and vanished into a vent.

Leaving them.

"What in all nine hells was that?" Zhorrid asked as she stumbled back onto her feet. "What kind of insanity is this?" It was playing with them, and she didn't like that thought.

Mer-el slowed as the darkness disappeared from the corridor. He turned, his snout and whiskers quivering as he sniffed and tasted the air. There were lingering traces of the scent of the tendrils but, as he stepped slightly closer to the Sith it seemed that those traces were centered around her.

His whiskers quivered more as his jowls drew up, revealing his sharp teeth. ”Whatever it was…it’s stench is upon you…” he all but growled out, now stepping further from her, preparing to find somewhere else to be.

"Maybe it considers me the bigger threat, good..." Zhorrid mumured as she followed the stranger, it was time to find out what was going on here.

TAGS: @Sinrebirth, @Mira Grau

 

Shadows

The lights cut.

Suddenly, they were changed around.

Those who had been touched by the Liquid Darkness awoke up in a room together.

Well.

Technically.

They were each conscious yes, but they were undressed, save for a name-tag on their big toe, and, well, they were in a drawer.

A morgue drawer.

Them waking would imbalance the drawer and they would slide out.

Darth Zhorrid, Zathras, Aryan Graul.

On one of the four tables was the horribly burned corpse of Emmy Saxon.

There were sanitary clothes, for the staff, evident, hanging up.

Now what?

TAG: @Mira Grau, @Mitth_Fisto, @HanSolo29 (combo)

 

IC: ArYaN GrAuL
Corridors

They ran, yes, and ran into each other, in the dark.

Mer-el and Sybelle.

Quite literally.

The lights flashed back on, and there were three of them.

Them, and Aryan Graul.

He was standing over them, the two of them with a bump on their foreheads.

His mouth was working.

"Sybelle?!"

TAG: @darthbernael, @Lady_Belligerent (combo)

 

Three down...

two to go...
​

One dead though...​

 

OOC: The following is a combo with Mitth_Fisto, Mira Grau, and Sinrebirth – thank you so much!


IC: Zathras, Aryan Graul, Darth Zhorrid
Morgue - Life of the party

The lights cut.

Zathras was cold. It was dark.

No remember move, last was struggle.

Zathras not have clothes. Tag on toe, no keep Zathras warm.

A morgue drawer.

Shifting Zathras imbalance drawer, Zathras slide out, and notice two others same.

On one of the four tables was the horribly burned corpse of Emmy Saxon.

Zathras note that what toe said! Zathras more concerned cover self.

With small wave, left, right. Zathras slowly look down and cupped himself with a hand, before hopped off drawer and went after the clothes he spot.

There were sanitary clothes, for the staff, evident, hanging up.

"Zathras no mean to show bits! Zathras sorry!" he sing-song call with hands strategically placed as he went for the clothes.

Aryan had no recollection of arriving here. He had previously been in the corridor, running to escape the Liquid Shadow, but an unexpected power surge had plunged the facility into darkness. It was difficult to tell whether he had stumbled and hit his head in the ensuing chaos, causing him to lose consciousness…

… or if it was simply another trick fabricated by his captors.

Either way, he was here.

In a black box, almost like a… tomb.

Or a coffin?

Panic gripped his chest, stimulating his heart so that his pulse echoed loudly in his ears. That was all the evidence he needed to affirm that he was still alive, but it didn’t curtail his paranoia. What if this was a coffin? What if someone had placed him here to die? The tight confines were enough to induce fear—but the idea of being lowered into the ground and losing his sanity as he slowly suffocated to death was truly horrifying.

Ultimately, that thought consumed his mind until nothing else mattered—not even the strange voice who had coached him through his earlier ordeal with the Liquid Shadow. He only wanted to survive…

… to live.

"Don’t let them bury me!" Aryan shouted as he slammed his fists against the box’s frame, his voice pitched with desperation. "I’m not dead!"

As if on cue, the crate shuddered beneath his weight and dropped down several feet, the impact eliciting a muffled grunt from his throat. The collision also seemingly jostled the latches of the box, popping the hatch and allowing the overhead light to illuminate the scene.

With a sharp intake of breath, Aryan rose quickly to his feet and staggered forward, relieved to discover that his captors had not yet attempted to inhume him. While that granted him a brief reprieve, the present situation hadn’t exactly improved. In his haste to escape the tomb-like prison, he failed to notice his lack of clothes. It wasn’t until he surveyed the cold aesthetic of the sterile room that he became aware of the equally cold draft around his groin. With pursed lips, he bent forward in an attempt to maintain his dignity, but his nudity was only the least of his concerns. The sting of antiseptic was enough to cause his eyes to water, and the rows of drawers inlaid into the adjacent wall sent an involuntary shiver down his spine.

He was in the morgue…

… and he wasn’t alone.

The first occupant was female, very pale with dark circles under her eyes. She appeared sickly, though he wouldn’t be able to determine the extent of her infirmities until she awoke from her slumber—if she awoke, he thought with some chagrin. He could only assume she was dead.

The second, however, was very much alive. A humanoid male with a bulging brow and an overabundance of body hair, he proved quite intimidating with his hulking form. Despite his appearance, his actions exhibited a child-like innocence as he scrambled to atone for his unfortunate state of undress. He had discovered a utility closet full of sanitary clothes, evidently a convenience for the employees, which he now raided to rectify his situation. Aryan might’ve chuckled at the almost comical display, but then he reminded himself that this was an insane asylum. The creature was likely unhinged and dangerous.

"No… no, it’s fine," Aryan soothed in response to the creature’s admission of guilt, lifting one hand to show that he meant no harm. "We both seem to have found ourselves in a… rather unfortunate situation. But if you don’t mind, I’m just going to—"

He nodded, indicating the white uniforms hanging in the closet.

Before the creature could offer his consent, Aryan took a tentative step forward to secure his garments. "I’ll be out of your way in a moment," he added as he pulled on a pair of pants. "I’m only passing through."

"Where in all nine hells are we?" Zhorrid asked as she sat up. Ripping the nametag from her toe she looked around. "This is getting crazier and crazier with every second." Jumping from the drawer she had apparently been placed in she yelled loudly, "Come out, come out you cowards! Face me and stop playing these games with a Dark Lady of the Sith!"

As her eyes got more used to the room she noticed she wasn‘t alone, a human, and a… Zhorrid wasn‘t sure what kind of creature the other being was, but both of them looked so clumsy and confused she could rule out them being responsible for this situation, no, the two were prisoners here as well.

Only now did she realize she was naked, "Stop staring, you creeps!" she hissed at the two males as she quickly darted over to the collection of garments and slipped into one of them.

"So, how do we make these maniacs pay for their little games?"

Zathras glad nice man nice.

Zathras note nice man have tag, upset lady did as well.

Grunting in delight Zathras nod to man. "We toe tag gang!" he responded in enthusiasm.

Woman decide get loud then. Zathras cower, curl in on self as pull on clothes.

"Zathras look tag. Not stare things, not stare things. Zathras sorry. Sorry." Zathras rambled as Zathras stared at a suddenly captivating spot of the wall with eyes wide with terror.

"Great, it seems one of you is an idiot..." Zhorrid muttered as she watched Zathras ramble. In a way he was funny, like the fools and court jesters some Sith Lords employed, to torment and torture every day. She had always wanted one herself, for both the prestige and the simple fun. "And who are you?" She turned to the other man, the human.

Aryan paused near the outer wall and raised his brow to study the woman with uncertainty. He had observed her natural tendencies toward the creature known as Zathras and how she seemingly regarded him with contempt—or perhaps she simply had no respect for the mentally ill. Either way, she had taken a dangerous risk by insulting him. If Zathras truly was unhinged, it was a foolish gesture to instigate him through petty bullying.

Then again, what did he expect? It was evident by the woman’s behavior that she was also deranged. Why else would she be locked up in a mental institution? He had to remember who he was dealing with in this place.

"That depends on how we proceed with this conversation," Aryan finally replied as he crossed his arms over his chest. "I can be cooperative and courteous… or a proverbial thorn in your side. It’s your choice—but let me just say you’re not off to a great start. First impressions are not your strong suit. You’re obviously upset; I get it. We’re both prisoners of an institutionalized system and being held against our will."

He spread his hands, suddenly every bit the consummate politician as he tried to appeal to her and convey their equivalence in this instance.

"However, that is not an excuse to belittle those we may perceive as inferior," he nodded toward Zathras, hoping it would be enough to calm the creature. "Are we not in this together?"

Zathras sniffed. Shuffling in place as Zathras smoothed and rubbed down the uniform Zathras now wore. In an obsessive bothered way, as though the fabric wouldn't lay just right. Then the man had talked. He said many things, last though, last. . .

"You, you think. Zathras infear-infear-infea...less? Zathras Less?" Zathras eyes were downcast as he slowly started to sway back and forth. His breathing coming faster and shallower.

"Zathras less. Yes. Bring others down. Stupid Zathras. Worthless. Less. Less. Less." Zathras rambled before bringing up an arm to rub at his now leaking eyes and with a moan barely stifled from becoming a wail, Zathras dashed for the exit to turn and run blindly away.

There was a noise, some distance away.

A clack of a droid's feet.

Something was coming.

So what next?

Zhorrid just had a rude reply on her lips when she heard the clacking of a droid in the distance... in the distance but still moving towards them. "Something is coming," she muttered, "yet another trick by these doctors?" If that was the case, then she certainly couldn't allow herself to waste time with these two, as they were obviously captives here too. Focus on the enemy first, you can torture the non-combatants to death afterward all you want, she told herself.

"Can you fight?" She asked the other two as she went into her fencing stance, only then remembering that she had neither blade nor her Force powers to call upon... maybe she really could use a hand this one time…

While Aryan resisted the urge to roll his eyes, he couldn’t suppress the curse that inevitably slipped from his lips. It was truly remarkable how uninformed and shallow they were. The non-human, who took his words out of context, had a feeble intellect and instinctively ran for the door like an unruly child. Meanwhile, the woman possessed an inflated ego and sought to oppose anyone who offended her.

Again, he had to remind himself that he was out of his depth. He wasn’t addressing his peers but rather residents in an insane asylum. He had to adjust his expectations accordingly.

"Fight?" Aryan repeated in an incredulous tone, crossing his arms over his chest. "You lost the element of surprise when your shabby friend attempted to run. It’ll be a miracle if his wailing doesn’t inform whoever’s coming of our presence. In fact, the fool likely can’t see past the end of his nose, so it wouldn’t surprise me if they take him back into custody. What advantage does that give us?"

He scoffed at how absurd it was.

"But as a hypothetical, let’s say we do manage to overpower them, where do you intend to go? This place is an endless labyrinth of corridors; it’ll swallow us whole." He sighed, his voice turning wistful. "This isn’t the first time I’ve heard of Bedlam."

Zhorrid spun around to him, "Do you want to say you know what this place is?" For a moment she wondered if he was in on the whole thing, another one of these Doctors, but no, even with the Force gone the Dark Lady of the Sith could still see that he wasn't one of them. No, he was a prisoner here, just like she was. And he had the knowledge she lacked, it hurt to admit that anyone could be ahead of her in terms of gathering intel. And yet... she had to, at least for now it was probably the safest bet to play along. "If you do... what do you suggest we do? Flee and hide? Given the skills these doctors have I wonder what it will do." Again, she had to admit others were above her in power, and that hurt her ego quite a bit. But she couldn't let her pride get the better of her, that had happened once, and she had barely survived.

Nobody stop Zathras, Zathras do what Zathras was doing. Trying hard not cry, fail a little, and leave the meanies behind.

As Zathras go out into hall, not even hear droid, Zathras think he find others. Others not think Zathras less!

A droid pushed open the doorway, a kind of protocol droid with obvious medical appendages.

It took one look at the three of them and said, "Oh my," promptly turning to leave on tottering legs.

Zhorrid raised an eyebrow as she turned to the human again. "That droid didn't look all that scary. What do you really know about this place?"

"I know enough not to underestimate anything or anyone you may encounter," Aryan retorted gruffly, perturbed at how easily the woman doubted him. Maybe he should heed his own advice and leave them behind to suffer. He had no sympathy, especially if it only took one pathetic protocol droid to distract her.

One… droid.

Aryan narrowed his eyes and rubbed his jaw in contemplation, the gesture producing a rasping sound as his fingers moved over his stubbled cheek. He had expected a contingent of orderlies or security personnel to respond to the disturbance… not a droid. This could work out to their advantage. At the very least, it gave him an idea. It may nullify what he said earlier about fighting their way out of here—but what if it could guarantee their freedom? Under the circumstances, he felt a little aggression couldn’t hurt.

Without waiting for the woman to respond, Aryan lunged and tackled the droid from behind, intentionally leading the automaton to the side and slamming it against the wall to disable it. "Not so fast, clanker. We’d like to talk—unless you’d prefer I slice open your central processor and take the data by force."

Zathras run. Run past droid, shoving it in a blind swipe as he ran crying from the room. Running Zathras did not know where. Somewhere private, some closet out of the way somewhere. Zathras not know what Zathras do, but Zathras go.

Zhorrid stepped a bit closer to the human still holding the droid. He certainly can fight, act when he needs to. Reminded her of someone who had once worked for her. Someone she had actually been able to rely on. Someone like Chiper Seven. And that anger, that aggression as the man threatened the droid. She wondered who he really was, maybe another Sith? Either way, she glanced at him and the droid with expectation. Zhorrid wanted to see what would happen next.

TAG: @Mitth_Fisto; @Mira Grau; @Sinrebirth