You sense that Llioramasith is a late night desert storm, the quiet roar of wind and abnormal lack of rain only bringing the scent of the parchedness of the desert normally to the forefront of the mind. << Jedi saysssssss congratulationssss. >> A baritone voice whispers darkly, something sinister breathing heavily behind you? Or in your mind? The sensation lingers until....it quite simply tapers off, leaving a strange sort of void in his wake.