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If you're going to go and make Bao-Dur a Force user, please do yourself a huge favor and drag him to the darkside. Seriously. As a normal Jedi he's just Bao-Dur and he completely sucks. Awaken that inner darkness, and I promise you won't regret it.

However, Bao-Dur is a light-based character. To get influence with him you'll need to do as Prince suggested. Carry him around Nar Shaddaa being nice to people, helping 'em out... all that soppy goody two-shoes Jedi nonsense. You should be able to fully influence him in no time.

Once that's done, switch him out of your party and go around doing so good ole evilness to rack up on the darkside points. Eventually Bao-Dur will start to resemble Darth Maul in a sense, and he'll basically ask you to train him to be a Dark Jedi. Tada! ^_^

I didn't really give you much room to write anything so that's understandable. ^_^ Oh, and the flashback is actually of Kain discovering that Riordan is Force sensitive. Their parents were members of a secretive sect of Jedi who were killed 3 years prior to the time this flashback occurred [when Riordan was 7 and Kain 10]. Afterwards, Kain grew to despise the Force, blaming it as well as the Jedi themselves for his parents' death.

Riordan -unaware of his parents' abilities at such a young age -hid and suppressed his own power for six years [he was 4 when it initially manifested], using books to further his knowledge of the Force and train himself. That is, until Kain discovered his secret as seen in that helpful flashback.
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Slade sighs heavily as he closes his eyes in an attempt to calm his inner demon, the vampire slowly allowing himself to relax into a steady pace, his strides mimicking the graceful fashion in which a noble might seem to effortlessly glide across the ground.

Arabella... he whispers to himself in a breathless tone, the power coursin' through his veins is undeniable, but his heart is soft, he adds with the faintest traces of spite. It makes me wonder: is he really strong enough to endure this? Will he be ready when fate finally rises to meet him? Will he be willin' to sacrifice everythin'? He has to be. The end's so close now...

The vampire shudders, toned muscles rippling faintly beneath his clothes to throw off the burning sensation sweeping through his body. This war's taken its toll on me. For over twenty thousand years I've been fightin' these monsters. Fightin' myself. Tell me, is it worth it... in the end? When I've acted as befits that ancient pact, will I be relieved of my torment? Or will I be denied what I long for, and forced to suffer for eternity?

The breath in Slade's lung hitches suddenly, his eyes shooting open as a tortured soul screams through the Force only to be quickly deafened by the roar of terrifying power. Riordan had erected a barrier to prevent the others from taking notice of Kain's struggle, but Slade was always aware of Kain's suffering. The blonde's eyes narrow tenderly, something akin to affection hiding in those deep, blue pools.

Kain... enpesi na alentedet...

o.O.o

The two Mandalorians walk side by side in utter silence, carefully watched by the soldiers surrounding them. The San Dweller's honey brown eyes cut to the side, his callous gaze finding Safira's partially veiled face as if expecting something from her. A Sur'haai was one who's intentions were beyond unquestionable. They were bound to serve Kad Ha'rangir even in death. But still... the Mandalorians often found their methods to be far from honorable.

The Mandalorian huffs cynically in a mocking manner, abruptly drawing Safira's attention to him. "You're putting a little too much faith in these outsiders, Safira," he growls in Mando'a, careful his words don't carry far. "That a band of renegade soldiers or even some rebel Shades could ever defeat the Orik'baar as easily as you plan..." He nearly laughs, but smothers it, his eyes narrowing with a hint of danger, something eerily silent lurking in those dark gold pools.

"There are some things that remain impossible... even with a god on our side..."

"Kad Ha'rangir won't grant us his favor in this battle, that much is certain," Safira replies. Kal appears rather surprised by this so she quickly continues. "He refuses to involve himself in a battle which is not his to fight.  But this Shade," she adds as if puzzled, glancing back over her shoulder to examine Slade for a fleeting moment, "even now he fights a battle which should never have been his."

...Unknown...

Cold. It feels... cold. Was this how death chose to greet even their kind? How ironic. Vampires possessed no soul, after all. Even that last remaining piece, which so desperately clung to them long after the rest had been devoured, ceased to exist with their death. As such, vampires were deemed higher beings, beyond the arbitrary jurisdiction of Central 49. The valsai'ium had no right to condemn them... no matter their crimes.

Thus, in their final death vampires found themselves outcast to Nihl, a vast void of nothingness where even this lingering feeling of winter's last breath would soon fade away. In the end, all that greeted them was darkness and eternal longing. Suddenly, a faint, almost silent voice murmurs unintelligibly, and his eyes abruptly open as if desperately hoping to find the source.

That voice... such a dangerous voice, cutting through the darkness which surrounds him like a double-edged sword. It beckons with immense power, those mysterious, nearly unheard words dripping with dark honey as if given life by the charm of some devil's tongue. His body reacts with an instinctive shudder of pleasure as something wet and soft to the touch unexpectedly begins to dance across his skin in an almost artful manner, careful not to overlook the well-defined muscular lines of his abdomen nor every deeply scarred crevice.

These sensations... that voice... they should not exist in this emptiness. Was death toying with him? He huffs disapprovingly. How cruel.

An erotic substance with the faintest metallic tang suddenly tingles on the tip of his tongue, forcing violent power spiraling through his veins in a uncontrollable frenzy. His entire body screams for more, his throat burning as he swallows greedily without considering its origin. This taste... such a pure yet twisted taste which manages to quench his ravenous hunger. No ordinary essence could taste as if God and the Devil himself had intertwined their blood in some sacrilegious rite.

This blood could belong to only one... his King.

Mortis...

o.O.o

Greenish gold eyes shoot open on a harsh gasp, the blood which rushes into his lungs consequently choking him. Sabien swats the still bleeding wrist away from him as he abruptly sits up, his stomach lurching as if he might vomit, the aching muscles of his abdomen, still drenched in healing salvia, quivering as he coughs violently. He finally takes a deep breath, cold air rushing into his now cleared airway as he wipes a few drops of blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. His heavy-lidden gaze immediately finds the dark-haired vampire licking the open gash on his wrist.

"Dmitri..." Sabien murmurs darkly, his voice lustful, the faintest hint of curiosity clinging to it. "What are you... doing here?" he wonders absently.

The strong hand on his shoulder momentarily diverts Sabien's attention to the fiery redhead crouched in front of him. Daisuke leans his head against his twin's in a somber manner. "Sabien," he begins, his voice unsteady and heavy, "you came back..."

Sabien's eyes soften as he raises a gentle hand, playfully tugging at one of the strands of Daisuke's matted hair. "Enra omne nerte, ekram," he comforts softly.

The blue-haired vampire sighs softy, cutting his eyes to the side to steal a glance in Dmitri's direction, the older vampire's bang obscuring his face as he sits quietly. Dmitri was not one who strayed from Mortis's side often unless dire circumstances required such. It would be interesting to know why he'd come to Ilum of all places. Surely Mortis didn't send him just to save them.

"This war is coming to a swift end," Dmitri decides to reply to Sabien's question, his voice thick with an exotic accent, every syllable enunciated with natural devious charm, "and our enemies brashly rise against us in growing hordes. As such, Lord Mortis does not have the time to search for the valsai'ium keys Himself. That is why he allotted such a crucial task to us... his Generals."

"To die would be to fail our King..." Dmitri continues dangerously, his gaze nearly robbing Sabien's lungs completely. Those eyes... those golden fires which seem to mingle and dance with the blood of saints. Even death could not extinguish their passionate flames. For they burned for Him and Him alone. His King.

Mortis...

"And even your death could not atone for such blatant sin."

Dmitri rises to his feet in a graceful movement, ancient power clinging to the air around him. Dmitri was the oldest of their kind, born into an age-old lineage of vampires which did not derive its origins from the souls of mortals but of far darker and vile beings. For this reason alone was Dmitri allowed the pleasure of feeding from his King, the last of that ancient breed.

Coupled with his own incredible power, Mortis's noble blood increased Dmitri's power well beyond that of Razvan or even the First before him. At times it came close to rivaling Mortis's power. But Dmitri was a guard dog... not a successor. A challenging roar suddenly echoes across the crystalline snow, shaking the very ground beneath their feet. Daisuke growls protectively, shielding his brother's body with his own.

Dmitri's eyes narrow darkly, his fingers tracing the outline of the worn lightsaber hilt hid beneath his cloak. Kurogitsune... "I will deal with the Summoned," he states confidently, surprising the two younger vampires. "You are to seek out the Guardian and her pet, and you are to retrieve the Key by any means."

Daisuke and Sabien both nod in understanding. They would not fail. Driven by their inner desire to serve their King faithfully, Dmitri had no doubt the two brothers would be more than a match for the Guardian and her dying dog. With the Key within their reach, Dmitri quickly flashsteps across the frozen wasteland towards his own destination.

The sound of bones grinding together signifies he's reached his target. The dark-haired vampire comes to an abrupt stop, the wind whipping around him so that his cloak wraps around his body like some dark angel's majestic wings. The flame within Sigur's chest expands and increases as Dmitri reaches into his cloak, retrieving the trustworthy lightsaber from within.

He snaps the long hilt in half, the double-lightsaber now two single ones connected by a few inches of chain. He closes his eyes, the icy landscape beginning to rage around him as if seeking to obey his ancient power.

"Desecrate... Kurogitsune!"

o.O.o

Sangria...

The Guardian opens her eyes at the familiar voice which invades her thoughts, her eyes beginning to fill with tears once more at the sight which greets her. So much blood. Even with all her power she could not heal the corrosive wounds Alaric had received during his duel with the redheaded vampire. There was also the poisonous blood he'd consumed which even now flowed through his body, eating at him from the inside, killing him slowly.

She buries her face in his thick, fur, her tears sinking into the black softness. Alaric whines. "Sangria... pel'kod tule..." he pleads.

"Alaric," she whispers, "I... I can't lose you..."

The great wolf releases a heavy breath, his lungs straining. "Enna komn... engem tuu. So en are'kure oe conar'det... enjutt tykod ta'le riike eppa'ka. Enna komn fesztelen joma'det... e oma co'are piwta... an saa majaknak."

"Alaric..." she cries softly.

Alaric simply listens to her cries, his heart painfully breaking with each tear she sheds. "Sangria..."

His senses flare instinctively, registering the overbearing smell of blood which sings with power before his ears catch the faint sound of footsteps approaching the cave. "Sangria, mekejal owe..."

The Guardian lifts her head, shocked, "But, Sigur-" she stops suddenly. Even she could sense that presence... that power. Surely the Mir'athorin had not come to retrieve the Key himself.

Alaric's pupils dilate, his crimson eyes suddenly focusing on the silver hued blade which nearly sets fire to the fur of his throat. Sangria's gasp of surprise is reduced to nothing but a whimper behind the hand which clamps down over her mouth.

"Sorry it took us so long," Daisuke's dark, aggressive voice nearly purrs. "Those were some pretty nasty wounds that Summoned of yours gave us, after all. How's 'bout we return the favor, eh?" he adds with a psychotic smirk.

Alaric closes his eyes as the blue-haired vampire raises his blade.

Sangria...

...Central 49; unknown location...

A single steam of light illuminates the daunting figure in the center of the room, strapped down to the likes of a makeshift chair by strands of powerful negation energy. The rest of the chamber remains relatively dark and hidden, the forty-nine valsai'ium assembled together hiding their faces behind boards marked with numbers instead of names.

Tyrael steps forth from the complete darkness in which the Supreme Judge is shrouded, his hood veiling whatever face lie beneath. "The Supreme Judge shall now deliver the sentence," he announces.

All eyes in the room immediately shift towards the now barely illuminated throne. "Mir'athorin," the Supreme Judge begins, his voice wise and weighed down with age-old authority, "you are hereby sentenced to 42,800 years in Mukem, the ninth and lowest level of the Bore, for your crimes of high treason, murder, sodomy, treachery, and so forth."

"I see..." Mortis responds calmly, as if contemplating the matter.  "I am to receive 'judgment' from the likes of you?" His eyes narrow darkly, whispers beginning to amass from the members of Central 49. "That seems rather ironic... don't you think, Gaiden?

Murmurs erupt from the valsai'ium, and Tyrael utters a sharp 'tsk' in disapproval. "Ekam! How dare you!" He begins to draw his sword, but the steady hand on his shoulder brings the valsai'ium to his knees in reverence. Gaiden steps forth from the shadows surrounding his throne.

Gasps are followed by a series of murmurs and silent prayers. "My, how brave of you," the Vampire King goads.

"Enough!" Gaiden lashes out, his voice biting with a deep-seated hatred only Mortis catches. "You treacherous dog... don't go getting cocky just because you're immortal!" The Supreme Judge begins to leave, turning his attention to Tyrael. "Cover his eyes and bind his mouth at once. Increase his sentence to 50,000 years. May he die in that festering cesspool of maggots."

Mortis's honey brown eyes ignite with the faintest golden fire as a small smile dances across his lips.

...Ordo...

A soldiers slows his pace so as to walk beside George. "Sir, the river's just ahead according to the Mandalorians. They say the Temple shouldn't be too far afterwards." He studies the Jedi for a moment. "You ready for this, sir?"

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And done! Hope this makes up for the bit of neglect. It just takes me a while to write 'cause I'm a perfectionist at heart. This still isn't perfect entirely, but it'll certainly do. ^_^ First things first:

Vampire Vocabulary:

Kain... enpesi na alentedet: Kain... only I know your pain...

Nihl: Place of Nothingness - a literal limbo-like afterlife

Enra omne nerte, ekram: I will never leave you, brother.

Sangria... pel'kod tule: Sangria... don't cry...

Enna komn... engem tuu. So en are'kure oe conar'det... enjutt tykod ta'le riike eppa'ka. Enna komn fesztelen joma'det... e oma co'are piwta... an saa majaknak: I know when... I'm beat. If I can die in your arms... then I ask nothing more of my second life. For I know when your sacred duty here... is complete we can be together... for all of eternity.

Sangria, mekejal owe: Sangria, they're coming...

Mukem: Pit of Maggots - the 9th and lowest level of the Bore; equivalent to the 9th level of hell - reserved only for the worst of the worst [Interesting Fact: Mortis is the only being ever to be sentenced to Mukem]

o.O.o

Now that that's over with, what should I go over next...? Ah, yes. Slade's "ancient pact" that he mentions... VERY IMPORTANT!!! It is crucial in his entire background/present plot situation. Oh, and in case you're wondering it is not the same thing as his "promise."

Ooh, surprise! Bet you didn't expect Sabien and Daisuke to make a comeback, but well, there you go. ^_^ Dmitri comes along saves the day with his awesome, kick ass self. Hope it was a good introductory piece for him. Also the stuff about him and Mortis being a different breed of vampire... VERY IMPORTANT!!!

Ah, Dmitri releases Kurogitsune... but we don't get to read about it?! o_O It's cause it's a secret. Every pureblood vampire's release differs drastically from fullbring releases [i.e. Riordan releasing Shouten Yaiba in Despair] and I'm saving one for a very special occasion. ^_^

Alaric and Sangria... I've grown a bit attached to them, but all good things must come to an end. At least they get to be together forever. <3 Oh, but they're not dead yet. I just left that as a cliffhanger for now.

Ah, then we come to Mortis's trial. Earlier in the post I explained why vampires can't be judged and condemned by Central 49. However, Mortis is not being condemned. He is simply being... exiled I guess you could say.

Well I think that does it. If ya got any questions ya know where to find me! ^_^

Seppuku

I'm so sorry George. I know it's been taking me forever with posts recently but I've been busier than normal with just general stuff. I'm able to post a simple reply in other topics but a story post [especially the length this next one is] has taken a good deal of time which I don't have a lot of to us for myself. I should have a post for you by the end of the day, however. If not then then tomorrow for certain.
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I know I'm adorable. ^_^ It's part of my charm.

A foxhole's basically a dug-in spot for soldiers to utilize as cover from enemy fire or as a firing point if dug into a hill. The Vietnamese were very fond of them but they do pose a strategic weakness. A well thrown grenade will generally kill all parties inside though grenade sumps do help minimize damage.

But it's rare that they make us dig foxholes. We've been thoroughly instructed on the proper way to construct one should we need to and have done so a few times but it's generally reserved as punishment (seeing as digging in with the proper tools takes forever... it takes a good 45 minutes to build a hasty). Depending on the battlefield situation, however, foxholes can be a very valuable source of cover and quite useful.

You're welcome for the tiny lecture. ^_^

Then my darkside powers are effecting people's minds. Excellent!

It's all in the hips and stomach muscles. ^_^ Crunches do help in life apparently.

Well, I am the ultimate weapon.

*hugs* Ah, you and that damn charm. You're claiming everyone's hugs!

I get that a lot.

He won't ever be a king 'cause I don't fancy kings.

You are your charms. ^_^ They'll take you far.

I swear y'all brighten my days. I can just laugh at you guys for no apparent reason. lol