The End Of All Things

[Artemis Vahl'Nyx]

{OOC NOTICE}​

This thread contains major spoilers for the current and next arc in Drapeam Nyx's story. In fact, this thread marks the end of the coming plotline (Ghosts Of You). Why, you may ask, is this being started now? That's simple. Due to time constraints and the upcoming death of a key character, this has been moved up, even though it takes place over 3 IC years from Nyx's current threads.​

What does that mean for you? Well, if you aren't involved in this thread, then you really should not read this yet. Seriously. While it may answer questions you have about what's going on with Nyx, it also gives away a bunch of information about a lot of things. Not only that, but due to us skipping ahead a lot of details will be missing, since we don't know what's going to happen in those 3 IC years.​

​

Now if you want to follow this storyline... for your sake there will be a small thread tracker below this message. It will be updated every time a new thread in either character arc (What Is Dead Cannot Die or Ghosts Of You) is started. Check back regularly if you want to watch things be revealed as the events happen. Eventually we'll reach this point and this message will be removed.​

​

In the mean time: Proceed with caution, friend, and beware the old ones.​

​

{What Is Dead Cannot Die: Arc 3}​

Ball of Bastion: Nyx reveals her true origins to an old friend.​

Today We Remember: A funeral is held for Nyx.​

When The Cats Are Away: Nyx fights Mandalorians.​

A Game Of Thrawns: Nyx has a snowball war. With her killer.​

​

{Ghosts Of You: Arc 4}​

No threads for this arc have been started yet. Check back soon.
​

 

[Artemis Vahl'Nyx]

Roughly three and a half years have passed since​

the brutal murder of Drapeam Sahara Nyx. In the​

time since her death things have been chaotic at​

best, disastrous at worst. Despite spending time​

with the worst of the Sith the Zorren has remained​

intact. However, she is merely a ghost, wandering​

without a body or hope of ever having one again.​

​

Now the spirit works desperately to find a way to​

return to her former state in order to save those​

she cares about most. Corvus. Stone. Vivienne. All​

of her old friends, along with new ones, are in grave​

danger- so says her prophetic visions. Without any​

clues or leads she searches desperately for traces​

of the Nyxai. If anyone can help her it's her family.​

​

There's only one person she trusts to assist her in this​

endeavor without betraying her: 'Vanessa Vantai', the​

one who taught her about stealth, her favorite tool of ​

all. After weeks of searching she's finally found out how​

to contact her old teacher. With that information she has​

but one thing left to do: Somehow manage to send a​

message to the woman without anyone's assistance........​

 

[Artemis Vahl'Nyx]

Dear Vanessa Vantai,
I sincerely hope this message finds you well. Otherwise I have even more work ahead of me than I originally anticipated. That, however, can be explained in person. Yes, as you may have now realized I am requesting a meeting between us. Who am I? That is a question I assume you are asking yourself at the moment. It is my hope that you still remember the woman you met a dingy old bar, drinking herself to death. You did come to my funeral, after all. I'm afraid I cannot give you any more hints. Time is not a privilege I currently have. People are in danger. Please, meet me, or perhaps send a messenger to the attached coordinates. Trust is unnecessary. Faith, however, is. Have faith in the force, Vanessa. We all need to if we are to survive what is to come.

Sincerely,
An old acquaintance
[member="Enigma"]

 

[Onrai]

[member="Drapeam Nyx"]

To the maiden,

But didn't I scare you that one time? No matter... How do you intend for us to meet given your current condition? While I certainly would love to assist you in your endeavours to retrieve that which was once lost to you, I do not know where you are currently... but if you can give me a sign of your presence, I would greatly appreciate it in order to track your location down.

Beloved regards,
An old friend

 

[Artemis Vahl'Nyx]

Dear Old Friend,
Truly, I would show you now, if I could. But I do not know your whereabouts. Nor your real name. What do I know? I know that you are, at the time this is being typed, alive. Time is running out. We're running out of time. Mind tricks don't work forever, you know, even on fools. Eventually I will be unable to get this... assistant to type what I want him to. Please, have faith in me. You have already seen that my spirit walks these worlds. Know that I will meet you there. I need your help, friend. I worry there is no one else I can trust at this time. I will be waiting, but I'm afraid this is my last message. At least for awhile. If you have not come in twenty days I will be somewhere else. Hopefully it will not come to that.

Sincerely,
The Maiden, as you say.
[member="Enigma"]

 

[Onrai]

Ord Mantell

The planet was dreary. Drab, if you may.
The end-times were soggy, like wet bales of hay.
And such would be the latest in Circe's bag of tricks
that would bring an end to the adventures of the ghostly [member="Drapeam Nyx"].

She had met with those individuals, all
of whom found themselves to be strong, big or small.
Every one of them there, from [member="Darth Vornskr"] to [member="Vrag"]
And yes, even that old psychotic Krag.

Her tenure with the Vong had taught her to eye
a plethora of complex new techniques to try,
but Kaine's resurrection had proven to be
a most certain success, from what she could see.

The chances of failure were really quite low.
Circe had proven that herself, don't you know?
After stabbing and crunching and scalping afoul,
she guessed her next death would involve spears and a trowel.

Then again, maybe that wasn't what Nyx needed.
Perhaps she desired her future be seeded
in another form or fashion therein
in which through complex processes, wherein

her soul would be left in a static-like place
and Circe could continue to rise in disgrace
while walking around with [member="Silara Kuhn"]'s daughter's face

Then again, what else was there for her to do?

 

[Artemis Vahl'Nyx]

[media]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=69fABjgxtXw&list=LLngBnxL13olMB9y-fSCuFHg&index=33&shuffle=149[/media]

A flicker, a glimmer, a shining in the night. Up on the horizon, a flash, the first morning light. Thanks be given, praise the Gods, a winter shall not last for long. When the stars all hide, when the Kings have died, look to sky, let it be your guide. A sun for you, a son for a gun, a task to be done for better or for none. In the distance lies a sin, a breath, an inkling of pride. Now be thanked, love the hate, a villain shall die tonight. When the sun doesn't shine, when the cousin's Queen is denied, look in your heart, break, and finally take flight.​

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------​

​

The rain was never really peaceful. That had been something she had tried to tell herself for years now. But still the memories of an older time stuck in her mind. Standing on the streets of Dromand Kaas, arms extended, smiling up at the world's tears. A better time. Lungs taking in a deep breath, noting the pleasant scent, a soft grin. Then came the present- or perhaps the past. She had died in the rain. Asleep, but not peaceful. Had it rained on her funeral? Towards the end it had. Old friends of hers had feared the skyfall- feared the storms they so often foretold. Drapeam Nyx should hate grey skies. She should hate the sensation of water pouring from the heavens. Yet it never bothered her. Even now, as a lonely ghost, the weather only brought her a sense of calm. Let it wash away the pain of today, the pain of yesterday, Nyx thought, let it rid me of my memories. This is where the pain ends.

Ord Mantell held a lot of pain.

As the wind whipped around her, as the rain came crashing down, she stood still, silent. And she waited. Waited for the one who would save her- and, by extension, dozens of other lives. In time she'd have another body, a vessel, for her own personal use. Then she'd be able to protect those she loved. Corvus, Stone, Vivienne, and... and maybe Vrag. You need some help, kid... Nyx shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. Of course it didn't work. It rarely had in her life, even when she had actually had a physical form, instead of the energy she was now. That's going to change. And soon, she thought. But first there's one thing I have to do... Quietly she glanced around, wondering if her old friend would show or not. I need to find them. My family. No sign of 'Vanessa' yet. Not even a little bit. They won't help me. I don't need them to. I just need one thing from them. Air had long since refused to enter her 'lungs'. Still she felt the need to go through the motions.

I need their DNA.

[member="Enigma"]​

 

[Onrai]

The presence of the woman had certainly grown quite visible.
Circe herself had to be silent as she could be.
Though to most the ghost would prove quite invisible
The Sith Lady could always see

her spectral tresses as they flew through the air
never failing to pass through a touch of stone or grass.
All things considered, the fight would've never been fair
if she had been involved in the kicking of someone's ass.

She smiled, holding a hand out
as though the sense of touch
actually had an effect - it didn't, and she did pout
before smiling, cheeks turning red with blush.

"How are you, Nyx?"

[member="Drapeam Nyx"]

 

[Artemis Vahl'Nyx]

[media]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0mMIXVHm90U&index=29&list=LLngBnxL13olMB9y-fSCuFHg[/media]
Their hands would have touched. They would have each felt it. It would have been a good handshake or maybe the start of a hug. But Nyx was dead- thanks to someone she wanted to save- and ghosts cannot interact with living beings. Not easily, at least. Three years had taught her that it was possible. She just needed to focus her energy. 'Twas still not like a true touch. It was false, fabricated, nothing compared to what it could be. She tried it now, anyway, reaching her ethereal hand out to graze it against Vanessa's. Three years had taught her to be lonely. All she wanted now was to feel the sensation of her skin on someone else's, or the comfort of her clothes, or the taste of wine upon her tongue. Yet... this was the most she could manage. A single, fleeting moment of feeling. Maybe that was enough for now. Surely it foretold of better things to come? Nyx hoped so.

"Now that you are here... I am quite well. It has been to long, Vanessa. We have much to discuss."

[member="Enigma"]​

 

[Onrai]

And though she leaned forward, desiring the touch
there was no feeling, sans the air, not much
of a consistency that the ghost left there,
but then again, Ord Mantell wasn't where

she had kept her data crystal, preserving her lies
her hidden arcane knowledge, free from the spies
who would try to liberate it from her
then pass it all off to an unrighteous cur.

As she stared at the figure, translucent as always
She focused in the clearing, all free of hallways
And pondered over the knowledge of what she would do
but all she needed now was to

ask a question: "Where is the body you want?"

[member="Drapeam Nyx"]

 

[Artemis Vahl'Nyx]

[media]https://www.youtube.com/watch?t=91&v=veHUZMoKObc[/media]

So the woman already knew what she had come for?... Interesting. Perhaps the desperation was clear on her face, or maybe it was the tremble in her voice, the wavering in her stance that gave it away. Or was it obvious what she needed? What this existence would have made her long for? Three years was a long time to go without touch. Without real feeling. Could anyone really deal with that and not mind? Nyx didn't know. She knew that it was something she didn't want. Didn't enjoy. And now she had to remedy that- quickly. Vanessa here could help with that. The way her smile caught the light, her confidence shining bright, well, it was clear. Enough has been though, it's time we ought to get back to the story, the main piece.

"I know of little about the body I seek. Only that I need it to have blood like I once did. Nyxai blood. If I heard correctly... a relative of mine lives on Ord Mantell. Nearby, hence our meeting spot. But I lack the means to get to them. They... they're in the hospital." Drapeam paused, looking away for a moment or two. There was a crack evident in her voice when she spoke again. "At this point I don't know what room. Somehow I doubt the people at the front desk would see me or let me in. I... I don't want her body. If she's alive I can't take it. I want her DNA. For a clone." Or at least that was the plan...

[member=Enigma]​

 

[Onrai]

[member="Drapeam Nyx"]

"Well... Were she brain-dead, you likely would be able to take the body as your own."
It was as easy as pouring soda through a cone.
Then again, Essence transfer was a difficult skill
To learn, but Circe did have quite the thrill

Whenever she taught it, or used it, that stuff
Proved quite useful seeing as the soul was certainly tough
When it came to such rituals. Then again
The chances of coincidental brain-death were thin.

"Would you like to come with me?"

 

[Artemis Vahl'Nyx]

[media]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=52iS5QyfBs8[/media]

"Personally I hope she's alive. I may not have the best relations with my family... but we are a dying breed," Nyx said, quietly reminded of the fact that her species was spread thin. Cloning could Zorrens could only do so much. With their gene pool so small... Ahem, she thought, I have more important things to think about. "I would love to accompany you. The hospital should not be far. Just a mile or two away. Rather small building from what I've seen. I... do have to wonder how she ended up here... Most of the Nyxai would not set foot on this planet without the intention to conquer it. Why an Imperial highborn would leave their territory also puzzles me. Perhaps this trip shall do more than just give me a way to fulfill my duties. Perhaps I shall find answers. Now come, the city is this way." Turning slowly the spectre started to move, gliding across the ground, never touching it.

[member=Enigma]​

 

[Onrai]

[member="Drapeam Nyx"]

It was so simple, she had said to herself.
The process would definitely be
Something she found to be beneath her own self-
Interested wide and free.

Soon they trotted into the hospital
In order to gain a spell of respite
Though Circe resisted coughing up spittle
In the middle of the night.

The agony was quite palpable
As she searched through the rooms.
Then again, she was certainly able
To search through the sterile semi-wombs.

And at once they came to the door.
At last her quest had ended.
Was her mind solid despite her body sore,
Or was her cranial matter equally rended?

 

[Artemis Vahl'Nyx]

[media]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zyLOJDyrtww[/media]​

They walked together, side by side.​

A Vahla woman, with a Zorren friend​

One did stride while the other did glide​

As they wandered towards the end.​

​

Soft footsteps came with rustled wind,​

A sign of cycles, of a world that held life​

Nyx couldn't help but let herself grin.​

This day marked the end of all her strife.​

​

"I hope she is well, whatever her name."​

"Tis odd she is here, not from wence we came."​

"Nyxai are picky, though she's not to blame."​

"I still hope she is well, all the same."​

​

Soon they had arrived at their destination,​

Or perhaps one could call it their destiny.​

A location of birth, of death, of new creation.​

'Twas a hospital. The place they wanted to be.​

​

Doors were pushed open, smiles were flashed,​

Nurses waved, doctors mumbled, and patients frowned.​

At last they reached the room of futures, not pasts​

With a little nudge the door opened, spreading light around...​

​

Upon a single bed lay a woman in slumber.​

Her hands were laid on her chest, crossed over the other,​

While her eyes could not be seen, it was clear​

By her hair, her face... her and Nyx shared a mother.​

​

At first the ghost did no notice. She stayed oblivious,​

Moving slowly towards her 'cousin' with hushed breaths,​

Their relation was more than clear, 'twas obvious​

That these two were bound by blood, not unwound by death.​

​

"Is... is she alright?"​

[member="Enigma"]​

 

[Onrai]

[member="Drapeam Nyx"]

"I can hardly tell," Circe said.
"It appears she's in quite the situation."
Then again, if Circe was in her stead
she would much regret this location.

"The question remains quite simple:
Can she be revived?"
Circe hadn't worked with a Zorren or her dimple
and this would be the first time she tried.

"I suppose that I could give it a shot.
Now hand me the glasses. See-through."
After all, it was going to get hot
since it wasn't for the greater weaboo.

"She's in better shape than @Cira.
Maybe better than [member="Siobhan Kerrigan"]."
She poked the woman. "Say 'I hear ya.'"
No response. "I know you can."

For a sliver of time
there was but a single spike
in activity until, like a mime
she grew silent, making Circe gripe.

"I'm sorry. There's nothing I can do."

 

[Artemis Vahl'Nyx]

[media]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YSWIfX_MNCY[/media]​

"I'm sorry. There's nothing I can do."​

No, it couldn't be, this was a life she couldn't lose.​

"I'm sorry. There's nothing I can do."​

Oh, forgive me cousin, for I have failed you.​

​

Nyx moved forward, ever so slowly,​

Reaching one hand out to hold that of her kin.​

"I... she's all I have left of my family."​

Every other was sick, dead, or full of all sorts of sin.​

​

"I can't quite explain it. The feeling in my head."​

"She's still alive, I know this."​

"There's a heartbeat. She isn't gone, she's not dead."​

"Just marching home. I know it."​

​

Her breathing was slow, steady.​

Air entered her lungs, moving in, and then out.​

But only when her body was ready.​

Of her existence, her life, Nyx had no doubt.​

​

It was just her mind she worried about.​

The Zorren placed an empty thumb across a scared cheek,​

Feeling her own breath catch, not shout,​

She stared at her kin... and for once in ages felt rather weak.​

​

"Damn it... I... I can't do this. I can't look at her."​

Ghostly lids dropped over puffy eyes,​

For when it comes to sadness, there is no real cure,​

Besides a cup of tea, and a damn good cry.​

​

There was a pause, a gap of time.​

Enough for a bird to take flight, or an old man to die.​

Enough for a poet to think of a rhyme,​

Or a lifetime of memories to seemingly, simply, fly by.​

​

"I have to know something, even if her mind can't be fixed."​

She floated over to the desk, grabbing the med chart,​

"Her name... 'twas an odd one: Arebisius Vahlen'de Nyx."​

With that she moved back, clutching her broken heart.​

[member="Enigma"]​

 

[Onrai]

[member="Drapeam Nyx"]

"And what is it you inquire?"
The Sith Lady chose to say.
"Her mind is a twisting spire.
A labyrinth, if you may."

"Your chances of retrieving
any info from its depths
are about as good as me deceiving
a horde of Jedi whelps."

Then she thought of how to play
a very simple game.
"Nyx, let's have you enter her and say
'I will not maim.'"

Why she chose these words,
she really didn't know.
At least she wasn't heard
as a gato in a sombrero.

 

[Artemis Vahl'Nyx]

[media]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ihDkZC5PmiA[/media]​

"Nyx, let's have you enter her and say 'I will not maim'."​

The Zorren looked up, eyes misty with tears.​

What could Vanessa mean? Was this some sort of game?​

Perhaps she should be minding her old fears.​

​

Of betrayal, of death, of a moment in a fiery war zone.​

Still the idea made her start to wonder,​

What was it like inside another's head? And if you're alone?​

There was not much time for her to ponder.​

​

"I'll do it. I'll enter my cousin's barren mind,"​

"Then we shall see what is there for me to find."​

​

Slowly, yet surely, the ghost closed her eyes. A step, and then another, was taken, moving towards the one who would have given her a clone. That fate seemed far out of the question. If a Zorren body was unused, it could not be left to rot, not when it's one of the few our galaxy's got. Still Nyx tried to hold some hope within her. Even if it seemed so very, very distant. It wouldn't be her fault if she gave up. So many before her already had. Oh, but look at her, this is not the type of woman to abandon her friends, her loved ones, or the thing she considered destiny. To do so would be terribly, terribly rude... and she had been raised in polite society. Maybe her horrid childhood had done something right after all. Life had given her something to many already had, and what so many might have needed: A push. A shove. A forceful thump on the back to get her going. And it had been rough. She had ended up as damaged as her sister seemed to be now. Hell, she had gotten worse. What her father had 'gifted' her with was a thousand irons in the fire. Among the flames there had been a single sliver of duty, of strength, of a drive that few had. The sliver, that little shard, was still there. Hiding. Waiting for her to ignore the burning for once and just... take it. As if it was actually that simple. As if reaching out to latch onto a piece of a mirror could mean something. Yet there it was. Lying in wait for a woman it didn't believe in.​

​

Nyx felt her hands clench. Felt them tighten, her nails digging into palms that weren't there. She felt real. Was this a memory? It couldn't be, she had yet to try to mingle with her kin, she was still there, in the hospital room, staying perfectly still. The blaster bolt hit her about as fast as the realization did. Twas a flashback. When her eyes shot open she stood on the field of battle. Dozens of soldiers were besides her. They were standing in a valley of bodies. Corpses seemed lined up on every side, filling every gap, their faces contorted into horrid expressions. Quietly a few workers counted the bodies, others starting to carry them to the shuttle. Lots of boxes coming home tonight... Nyx thought, flinching as the medic stitched up her shoulder. Part of her wanted to slip into the thrum of the past. To pretend she was really there again. But the sting of needle against flesh reminded her that the injury had healed a long time before. All the soldiers around her were gone, buried in the ground, or left lying on the grass, perhaps little more than ashes or old bones. This wasn't real. Not in the sense that Vanessa was. Not in the sense that she had once been. Who knew that ghosts could still dream? Another moment passed. Another bit of flesh patched up. Then she was done, left to wait for a transport, the doctor moving on to his next patient. And the woman closed her eyes once more, letting herself come home.​

​

"I'm not sure how to go about this. But I will try."​

With a deep breath she reached out with her mind, connecting it to that of her kin's.​

She tried to communicate. She reached and reached, stretched and bent herself, to no avail.​

It was deathly silent. They had been far to late.​

"All that remains is a heartbeat. There is no soul left. Not that I can find."​

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˙s,uᴉʞ ɹǝɥ ɟo ʇɐɥʇ oʇ ʇᴉ ƃuᴉʇɔǝuuoɔ 'puᴉɯ ɹǝɥ ɥʇᴉʍ ʇno pǝɥɔɐǝɹ ǝɥs ɥʇɐǝɹq dǝǝp ɐ ɥʇᴉM
,,˙ʎɹʇ llᴉʍ I ʇnq ˙sᴉɥʇ ʇnoqɐ oƃ oʇ ʍoɥ ǝɹns ʇou ɯ,I,,

˙ǝɯoɥ ǝɯoɔ ɟlǝsɹǝɥ ƃuᴉʇʇǝl 'ǝɹoɯ ǝɔuo sǝʎǝ ɹǝɥ pǝsolɔ uɐɯoʍ ǝɥʇ pu∀ ˙ʇuǝᴉʇɐd ʇxǝu sᴉɥ oʇ uo ƃuᴉʌoɯ ɹoʇɔop ǝɥʇ 'ʇɹodsuɐɹʇ ɐ ɹoɟ ʇᴉɐʍ oʇ ʇɟǝl 'ǝuop sɐʍ ǝɥs uǝɥ┴ ˙dn pǝɥɔʇɐd ɥsǝlɟ ɟo ʇᴉq ɹǝɥʇou∀ ˙pǝssɐd ʇuǝɯoɯ ɹǝɥʇou∀ ¿ɯɐǝɹp llᴉʇs plnoɔ sʇsoɥƃ ʇɐɥʇ ʍǝuʞ oɥM ˙uǝǝq ǝɔuo pɐɥ ǝɥs ʇɐɥʇ ǝsuǝs ǝɥʇ uᴉ ʇoN ˙sɐʍ ɐssǝuɐΛ ʇɐɥʇ ǝsuǝs ǝɥʇ uᴉ ʇoN ˙lɐǝɹ ʇ,usɐʍ sᴉɥ┴ ˙sǝuoq plo ɹo sǝɥsɐ uɐɥʇ ǝɹoɯ ǝlʇʇᴉl sdɐɥɹǝd 'ssɐɹƃ ǝɥʇ uo ƃuᴉʎl ʇɟǝl ɹo 'punoɹƃ ǝɥʇ uᴉ pǝᴉɹnq 'ǝuoƃ ǝɹǝʍ ɹǝɥ punoɹɐ sɹǝᴉplos ǝɥʇ ll∀ ˙ǝɹoɟǝq ǝɯᴉʇ ƃuol ɐ pǝlɐǝɥ pɐɥ ʎɹnɾuᴉ ǝɥʇ ʇɐɥʇ ɹǝɥ pǝpuᴉɯǝɹ ɥsǝlɟ ʇsuᴉɐƃɐ ǝlpǝǝu ɟo ƃuᴉʇs ǝɥʇ ʇnq ˙uᴉɐƃɐ ǝɹǝɥʇ ʎllɐǝɹ sɐʍ ǝɥs puǝʇǝɹd o┴ ˙ʇsɐd ǝɥʇ ɟo ɯnɹɥʇ ǝɥʇ oʇuᴉ dᴉls oʇ pǝʇuɐʍ ɹǝɥ ɟo ʇɹɐԀ ˙ɹǝplnoɥs ɹǝɥ dn pǝɥɔʇᴉʇs ɔᴉpǝɯ ǝɥʇ sɐ ƃuᴉɥɔuᴉlɟ 'ʇɥƃnoɥʇ xʎN ˙˙˙ʇɥƃᴉuoʇ ǝɯoɥ ƃuᴉɯoɔ sǝxoq ɟo sʇo˥ ˙ǝlʇʇnɥs ǝɥʇ oʇ ɯǝɥʇ ʎɹɹɐɔ oʇ ƃuᴉʇɹɐʇs sɹǝɥʇo 'sǝᴉpoq ǝɥʇ pǝʇunoɔ sɹǝʞɹoʍ ʍǝɟ ɐ ʎlʇǝᴉnQ ˙suoᴉssǝɹdxǝ pᴉɹɹoɥ oʇuᴉ pǝʇɹoʇuoɔ sǝɔɐɟ ɹᴉǝɥʇ 'dɐƃ ʎɹǝʌǝ ƃuᴉllᴉɟ 'ǝpᴉs ʎɹǝʌǝ uo dn pǝuᴉl pǝɯǝǝs sǝsdɹoƆ ˙sǝᴉpoq ɟo ʎǝllɐʌ ɐ uᴉ ƃuᴉpuɐʇs ǝɹǝʍ ʎǝɥ┴ ˙ɹǝɥ sǝpᴉsǝq ǝɹǝʍ sɹǝᴉplos ɟo suǝzop ˙ǝlʇʇɐq ɟo plǝᴉɟ ǝɥʇ uo pooʇs ǝɥs uǝdo ʇoɥs sǝʎǝ ɹǝɥ uǝɥM ˙ʞɔɐqɥsɐlɟ ɐ sɐʍ┴ ˙pᴉp uoᴉʇɐzᴉlɐǝɹ ǝɥʇ sɐ ʇsɐɟ sɐ ʇnoqɐ ɹǝɥ ʇᴉɥ ʇloq ɹǝʇsɐlq ǝɥ┴ ˙llᴉʇs ʎlʇɔǝɟɹǝd ƃuᴉʎɐʇs 'ɯooɹ lɐʇᴉdsoɥ ǝɥʇ uᴉ 'ǝɹǝɥʇ llᴉʇs sɐʍ ǝɥs 'uᴉʞ ɹǝɥ ɥʇᴉʍ ǝlƃuᴉɯ oʇ ʎɹʇ oʇ ʇǝʎ pɐɥ ǝɥs 'ǝq ʇ,uplnoɔ ʇI ¿ʎɹoɯǝɯ ɐ sᴉɥʇ sɐM ˙lɐǝɹ ʇlǝɟ ǝɥS ˙ǝɹǝɥʇ ʇ,uǝɹǝʍ ʇɐɥʇ sɯlɐd oʇuᴉ ƃuᴉƃƃᴉp slᴉɐu ɹǝɥ 'uǝʇɥƃᴉʇ ɯǝɥʇ ʇlǝℲ ˙ɥɔuǝlɔ spuɐɥ ɹǝɥ ʇlǝɟ xʎN

˙uᴉ ǝʌǝᴉlǝq ʇ,upᴉp ʇᴉ uɐɯoʍ ɐ ɹoɟ ʇᴉɐʍ uᴉ ƃuᴉʎ˥ ˙sɐʍ ʇᴉ ǝɹǝɥʇ ʇǝ⅄ ˙ƃuᴉɥʇǝɯos uɐǝɯ plnoɔ ɹoɹɹᴉɯ ɐ ɟo ǝɔǝᴉd ɐ oʇuo ɥɔʇɐl oʇ ʇno ƃuᴉɥɔɐǝɹ ɟᴉ s∀ ˙ǝldɯᴉs ʇɐɥʇ ʎllɐnʇɔɐ sɐʍ ʇᴉ ɟᴉ s∀ ˙ʇᴉ ǝʞɐʇ ˙˙˙ʇsnɾ puɐ ǝɔuo ɹoɟ ƃuᴉuɹnq ǝɥʇ ǝɹouƃᴉ oʇ ɹǝɥ ɹoɟ ƃuᴉʇᴉɐM ˙ƃuᴉpᴉH ˙ǝɹǝɥʇ llᴉʇs sɐʍ 'pɹɐɥs ǝlʇʇᴉl ʇɐɥʇ 'ɹǝʌᴉls ǝɥ┴ ˙pɐɥ ʍǝɟ ʇɐɥʇ ǝʌᴉɹp ɐ ɟo 'ɥʇƃuǝɹʇs ɟo 'ʎʇnp ɟo ɹǝʌᴉls ǝlƃuᴉs ɐ uǝǝq pɐɥ ǝɹǝɥʇ sǝɯɐlɟ ǝɥʇ ƃuoɯ∀ ˙ǝɹᴉɟ ǝɥʇ uᴉ suoɹᴉ puɐsnoɥʇ ɐ sɐʍ ɥʇᴉʍ ɹǝɥ ,pǝʇɟᴉƃ, pɐɥ ɹǝɥʇɐɟ ɹǝɥ ʇɐɥM ˙ǝsɹoʍ uǝʇʇoƃ pɐɥ ǝɥs 'llǝH ˙ʍou ǝq oʇ pǝɯǝǝs ɹǝʇsᴉs ɹǝɥ sɐ pǝƃɐɯɐp sɐ dn pǝpuǝ pɐɥ ǝɥS ˙ɥƃnoɹ uǝǝq pɐɥ ʇᴉ pu∀ ˙ƃuᴉoƃ ɹǝɥ ʇǝƃ oʇ ʞɔɐq ǝɥʇ uo dɯnɥʇ lnɟǝɔɹoɟ ∀ ˙ǝʌoɥs ∀ ˙ɥsnd ∀ ˙pǝpǝǝu ǝʌɐɥ ʇɥƃᴉɯ ʎuɐɯ os ʇɐɥʍ puɐ 'pɐɥ ʎpɐǝɹlɐ ʎuɐɯ oʇ ƃuᴉɥʇǝɯos ɹǝɥ uǝʌᴉƃ pɐɥ ǝɟᴉ˥ ˙llɐ ɹǝʇɟɐ ʇɥƃᴉɹ ƃuᴉɥʇǝɯos ǝuop pɐɥ pooɥplᴉɥɔ pᴉɹɹoɥ ɹǝɥ ǝqʎɐW ˙ʎʇǝᴉɔos ǝʇᴉlod uᴉ pǝsᴉɐɹ uǝǝq pɐɥ ǝɥs puɐ ˙˙˙ǝpnɹ ʎlqᴉɹɹǝʇ 'ʎlqᴉɹɹǝʇ ǝq plnoʍ os op o┴ ˙ʎuᴉʇsǝp pǝɹǝpᴉsuoɔ ǝɥs ƃuᴉɥʇ ǝɥʇ ɹo 'sǝuo pǝʌol ɹǝɥ 'spuǝᴉɹɟ ɹǝɥ uopuɐqɐ oʇ uɐɯoʍ ɟo ǝdʎʇ ǝɥʇ ʇou sᴉ sᴉɥʇ 'ɹǝɥ ʇɐ ʞool ʇnq 'ɥO ˙pɐɥ ʎpɐǝɹlɐ ɹǝɥ ǝɹoɟǝq ʎuɐɯ oS ˙dn ǝʌɐƃ ǝɥs ɟᴉ ʇlnɐɟ ɹǝɥ ǝq ʇ,uplnoʍ ʇI ˙ʇuɐʇsᴉp ʎɹǝʌ 'ʎɹǝʌ os pǝɯǝǝs ʇᴉ ɟᴉ uǝʌƎ ˙ɹǝɥ uᴉɥʇᴉʍ ǝdoɥ ǝɯos ploɥ oʇ pǝᴉɹʇ xʎN llᴉʇS ˙ʇoƃ s,ʎxɐlɐƃ ɹno ʍǝɟ ǝɥʇ ɟo ǝuo s,ʇᴉ uǝɥʍ ʇou 'ʇoɹ oʇ ʇɟǝl ǝq ʇou plnoɔ ʇᴉ 'pǝsnun sɐʍ ʎpoq uǝɹɹoZ ɐ ɟI ˙uoᴉʇsǝnb ǝɥʇ ɟo ʇno ɹɐɟ pǝɯǝǝs ǝʇɐɟ ʇɐɥ┴ ˙ǝuolɔ ɐ ɹǝɥ uǝʌᴉƃ ǝʌɐɥ plnoʍ oɥʍ ǝuo ǝɥʇ spɹɐʍoʇ ƃuᴉʌoɯ 'uǝʞɐʇ sɐʍ 'ɹǝɥʇouɐ uǝɥʇ puɐ 'dǝʇs ∀ ˙sǝʎǝ ɹǝɥ pǝsolɔ ʇsoɥƃ ǝɥʇ 'ʎlǝɹns ʇǝʎ 'ʎlʍolS

,,˙puᴉɟ oʇ ǝɯ ɹoɟ ǝɹǝɥʇ sᴉ ʇɐɥʍ ǝǝs llɐɥs ǝʍ uǝɥ┴,,
,,'puᴉɯ uǝɹɹɐq s,uᴉsnoɔ ʎɯ ɹǝʇuǝ ll,I ˙ʇᴉ op ll,I,,

˙ɹǝpuod oʇ ɹǝɥ ɹoɟ ǝɯᴉʇ ɥɔnɯ ʇou sɐʍ ǝɹǝɥ┴
¿ǝuolɐ ǝɹ,noʎ ɟᴉ pu∀ ¿pɐǝɥ s,ɹǝɥʇouɐ ǝpᴉsuᴉ ǝʞᴉl ʇᴉ sɐʍ ʇɐɥM
'ɹǝpuoʍ oʇ ʇɹɐʇs ɹǝɥ ǝpɐɯ ɐǝpᴉ ǝɥʇ llᴉʇS
˙ǝuoz ɹɐʍ ʎɹǝᴉɟ ɐ uᴉ ʇuǝɯoɯ ɐ ɟo 'ɥʇɐǝp ɟo 'lɐʎɐɹʇǝq ɟO

˙sɹɐǝɟ plo ɹǝɥ ƃuᴉpuᴉɯ ǝq plnoɥs ǝɥs sdɐɥɹǝԀ
¿ǝɯɐƃ ɟo ʇɹos ǝɯos sᴉɥʇ sɐM ¿uɐǝɯ ɐssǝuɐΛ plnoɔ ʇɐɥM
˙sɹɐǝʇ ɥʇᴉʍ ʎʇsᴉɯ sǝʎǝ 'dn pǝʞool uǝɹɹoZ ǝɥ┴
,,˙,ɯᴉɐɯ ʇou llᴉʍ I, ʎɐs puɐ ɹǝɥ ɹǝʇuǝ noʎ ǝʌɐɥ s,ʇǝl 'xʎN,,
[member="Enigma"]​

 

[Onrai]

[member="Drapeam Nyx"]

"If I could somehow bring her back, I would."
She frowned, giving her a soft sigh.
The question remained if she even could
or whether the soul would pass by.

"Nyx, this is the only chance to save
whatever's left of her flesh."
And with that, she led the spirit 'cross pave
to help her into the body with a thresh.

"Just close your eyes and link with her.
It's really the only way
to ensure that your bond becomes not a cur
and successfully will stay."

She came here rather pertently dressed
in folds of comfy cloth
even as she whispered and blessed
the body, its brain turned to broth.

"By the power potently invested in me
as a Dark Lady of the Sith,
I hearby bind Drapeam into the body I see
to prove that transfer essence is not a myth."