The one armed Duros pursed his lips in deep contemplation, oblivious to the concerned looks from his fellow prisoners within the comunial cell.
Following three stops to collect additional prisoners, the survivor from Dreadon Station was heading to his final destination, the Obsidian Tower.
All three were human and bore the marks of having had received the same Imperial hospitality to which the blue skinned Duros had bern treated to. All three had a bearing to them of a soldier. All had seen many conflicts and partaken in violence in the name of freedom against Imperial oppression. Yet, despite all their battle hardened experience they all had distanced themselves as far as possible from the one armed man, sitting, transfixed in fear.
Suddenly the Duros pulled his knees under his chin and lifted his feet off the floor. With a gasp he grasped at his feet as if his soles had been scolded.
“Are you alright?” Enquired the eldest of the three rebels, a white bearded man with a weathered face and wild, unkempt hair.
“It burns!” Cried the one armed man.
The three other prisoners looked at each with confused faces and shrugging shoulders.
“What is this?” Hissed the Duros his eyes now ablaze with anger as he stared at the cold metal flooring.
Annendu’s mind raced as the adrenaline from his phantom injuries fueled his search for understanding. Then came a revelation. The drive and pull he felt to this dark tower was not the force guiding him, as he had at first thought, but his new body. This body was not unique. This body was part of a set.
It had a twin!