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It was a overcast, brooding afternoon on Onderon. The sky, a bruised shade of purple, threatened to at any moment bleed on the masses below. The mood of the people was sour, though not because of the weather... They knew not why they found it impossible to crack a smile, or to love their lovers; all the common folk were able to tell was that something was seriously wrong with their world. The insect class of Onderon went about their daily lives in perpetual despair, for they could feel little else. Every now and again one would look up, towards the glorious sight of the Unifar Temple. They would imagine the Queen within sitting in all her riches, dining on the finest meats and drinking from flutes of diamond... And they would turn away disgusted.
Once they had loved their leader. Now all they were able to do was hate.
The space port was the last place Onderon had left that harbored any notion of joy or positive thinking. The people there never stayed long, so the curse that plagued the natives never seemed to get a chance to take root. Smugglers and pirates came and went, each finding that Onderon was a little different from their previous visit. It was as if all the life was slowly leaving her, being drained into some unknowable vessel. They made plans to avoid the world in the future, instead stopping elsewhere for fuel and supplies - they might not have been able to identify the poison coursing through Onderon's people, but they all came to the same conclusion: Danger, avoid at all costs.
This endless vortex of despair looked as if it had no end to the common folk of Onderon, who had all but given up hope on ever being able to feel as they once had. Little did they know that everything was set to change. Nothing lasts forever, not even the force.
The catalyst was a ship, landing in a mostly disused bay that no one ever cared to pay attention to. The lone figure that disembarked wordlessly began to refuel his ship, avoiding conversation or even eye contact with anyone that happened to glance his way. He was hooded, cloaked in a strange energy that seemed to dissuade people from approaching or watching him - eyes slipped past as if he wasn't there, a ghost in the midst of the living. The figure finished refueling and stowed the lines again, looking to leave as quickly as he had arrived. He put one foot on the loading ramp before stopping, hesitating for some reason.
His shoulders sagged, and the aura around him dissipated. He looked as if he had resigned himself to something, and though no one could see them his eyes told the same story. He could ignore Gabriel's stench no longer, for it was dark and sapped the life of all that tasted it. The figure was immune to its touch, but he seriously doubted that anyone else on this rock had that kind of power. This mess was of his making, and the force willed him to set the record straight.
It was a single sin of countless thousands. Why was he compelled to do this over all the others?
He turned and closed the ramp behind him with a thought. People stared as he strode past them, wondering what business he could have that made him walk with such purpose. No one recognised him, which was a blessing. The last thing the former Grandmaster wanted was to be accosted in the streets by an angry mob.
The presence he could sense was Gabriel, of that there was no doubt. What had caused him to turn from his path was just how much the boy's aura had changed since last he had felt it. Through his mind's eye the figure saw a malignant black cloud squatting over the Royal Palace, infesting it with the dark side. From that cloud swirled a hundred foul tendrils of power, which wormed their way down into the masses and through the streets. They were the cause of all Onderon's woes, and he had brought them into being.
Guilt was not something Lecchamemnon ever really felt... Disgust often served the same purpose.
As he neared the palace he saw more and more evidence of the corrupting influence of the Dark Side. Onderon was not dying, as its people seemed to think - it was twisting itself into something new and infinitely darker. Over time it would become much like its moon, Dxun, if this was allowed to continue. He passed a corpse that was just lying in the street, something that would never ordinarily be seen so close to the royal family. It reminded him of Necropolis, which was troubling.
As he walked up the stairs to the front doors of the palace he noted that there were no guards of any kind. He was not hiding his presence, he didn't care if Gabriel knew he was coming. Instead he focused on the encounter to come, more than ready for anything this palace held in store. For all the evil at Gabriel's fingertips that was on display here, it was entirely eclipsed by Lecchamemnon's fury when roused. For now it smoldered, seething away at the back of his mind like a rabid Nexu waiting to be unleashed. Gabriel had never witnessed the former Grandmaster's full might, though he surely must have guessed at the man's potential. The shackles on Lecchamemnon's power were loose... The slightest provocation would slip them off.
Reaching the top of the stairs Lecchamemnon did not halt. Placing a hand on each door he pushed the great portal open, and strode through into darkness. Whatever waited within was dead, if not at Gabriel's hand then by Lecchamenon's own. He would not allow this taint to continue.
Once they had loved their leader. Now all they were able to do was hate.
The space port was the last place Onderon had left that harbored any notion of joy or positive thinking. The people there never stayed long, so the curse that plagued the natives never seemed to get a chance to take root. Smugglers and pirates came and went, each finding that Onderon was a little different from their previous visit. It was as if all the life was slowly leaving her, being drained into some unknowable vessel. They made plans to avoid the world in the future, instead stopping elsewhere for fuel and supplies - they might not have been able to identify the poison coursing through Onderon's people, but they all came to the same conclusion: Danger, avoid at all costs.
This endless vortex of despair looked as if it had no end to the common folk of Onderon, who had all but given up hope on ever being able to feel as they once had. Little did they know that everything was set to change. Nothing lasts forever, not even the force.
The catalyst was a ship, landing in a mostly disused bay that no one ever cared to pay attention to. The lone figure that disembarked wordlessly began to refuel his ship, avoiding conversation or even eye contact with anyone that happened to glance his way. He was hooded, cloaked in a strange energy that seemed to dissuade people from approaching or watching him - eyes slipped past as if he wasn't there, a ghost in the midst of the living. The figure finished refueling and stowed the lines again, looking to leave as quickly as he had arrived. He put one foot on the loading ramp before stopping, hesitating for some reason.
His shoulders sagged, and the aura around him dissipated. He looked as if he had resigned himself to something, and though no one could see them his eyes told the same story. He could ignore Gabriel's stench no longer, for it was dark and sapped the life of all that tasted it. The figure was immune to its touch, but he seriously doubted that anyone else on this rock had that kind of power. This mess was of his making, and the force willed him to set the record straight.
It was a single sin of countless thousands. Why was he compelled to do this over all the others?
He turned and closed the ramp behind him with a thought. People stared as he strode past them, wondering what business he could have that made him walk with such purpose. No one recognised him, which was a blessing. The last thing the former Grandmaster wanted was to be accosted in the streets by an angry mob.
The presence he could sense was Gabriel, of that there was no doubt. What had caused him to turn from his path was just how much the boy's aura had changed since last he had felt it. Through his mind's eye the figure saw a malignant black cloud squatting over the Royal Palace, infesting it with the dark side. From that cloud swirled a hundred foul tendrils of power, which wormed their way down into the masses and through the streets. They were the cause of all Onderon's woes, and he had brought them into being.
Guilt was not something Lecchamemnon ever really felt... Disgust often served the same purpose.
As he neared the palace he saw more and more evidence of the corrupting influence of the Dark Side. Onderon was not dying, as its people seemed to think - it was twisting itself into something new and infinitely darker. Over time it would become much like its moon, Dxun, if this was allowed to continue. He passed a corpse that was just lying in the street, something that would never ordinarily be seen so close to the royal family. It reminded him of Necropolis, which was troubling.
As he walked up the stairs to the front doors of the palace he noted that there were no guards of any kind. He was not hiding his presence, he didn't care if Gabriel knew he was coming. Instead he focused on the encounter to come, more than ready for anything this palace held in store. For all the evil at Gabriel's fingertips that was on display here, it was entirely eclipsed by Lecchamemnon's fury when roused. For now it smoldered, seething away at the back of his mind like a rabid Nexu waiting to be unleashed. Gabriel had never witnessed the former Grandmaster's full might, though he surely must have guessed at the man's potential. The shackles on Lecchamemnon's power were loose... The slightest provocation would slip them off.
Reaching the top of the stairs Lecchamemnon did not halt. Placing a hand on each door he pushed the great portal open, and strode through into darkness. Whatever waited within was dead, if not at Gabriel's hand then by Lecchamenon's own. He would not allow this taint to continue.