Arabian Nights | CIS Dominion of Ra'Katha

[Eternal Storm]

R A ' K A T H A​

Ra’Katha had long been a planet of economic and historical intrigue, home to a brilliant clash and mesh of cultures and ideas. But when the Gulag Plague shrouded the galaxy in darkness and death, the ports of Ra’Katha were completely closed off to prevent the disease from reaching the desert planet. While the virus did not wreak destruction on the populace of Ra’Katha, it hurt the planet in other ways; collapsing the existing infrastructure and bringing a centuries-long period of individual city-state warfare. Even as the virus died down and populations across the galaxy recovered, Ra’Katha remained in its dark age as the galaxy rebuilt and moved on. The planet eventually was reintroduced to the galaxy, but then a backwater planet on the fringes of the galaxy.

However, a few still remembered the formery power and glory of Ra’Katha. And even though the galaxy had seemed to move on without them, they were not fully prepared to accept their desolateness. One such individual was [member="Bastille Rommer"], Kemotar of Saltühn, the largest and most powerful city on Ra’Katha, who hungered for the glorious days of old. Bastille sought to once more bring Ra’Katha into the forefront of the galaxy by striking a new kind of deal -- joining the Confederacy of Independent Systems, a neighboring faction that had grown into a new galactic power.

Yet, there were those in the few still-standing cities who despised outsiders, viewing them unworthy of standing underneath Ra’Katha’s sun and sky. They began masking their faces with ornate carvings of beasts and fowl, wrought in the finest gold, silver, and brass. They were called the Golden Masks, anonymously terrorizing those who supported the integration of Ra’Katha and the outside galaxy. Quickly, the conflict in Saltuhn escalated into an all-out war between the Golden Masks and the overstretched Kemotat Guard trying to restore peace to the city. And it wasn’t just the Golden Masks who were upset with the Kemotar’s decision to throw in Ra’Katha’s lot with the Confederacy. Furthermore, the mysterious terrorist organization that has been waging a guerilla warfare against the Confederacy for months has now also turned an eye towards the desert planet for a yet unknown reason.

However, agents within the Ministry of Secrets have informed Darth Metus, Vicelord of the Confederacy, of the situation and potential link to the mysterious, elusive Crucible. Thus, an envoy of political ambassadors has been sent to consort with the Kemotar in order to win him and the people of Ra’Katha over to the side of the Confederacy for good. In addition, as a further sign of goodwill towards both the leadership and civilians of Ra’Katha, the Confederacy has also promised to exterminate the Golden Masks; to find out who exactly is coordinating the terror attacks on Ra’Kathan citizens. But they will not have much time. Failure will mean that all of the Confederacy’s attempts to seize Ra’Katha for themselves will be for nothing.

OBJECTIVES:

Spoiler

A hidden group of terrorists have sworn that Confederacy shall pay the blood price for attempting to take over their homeplanet. They hide their faces with masks of gold, and behind those masks might be any Ra’Kathan; noblemen, merchants, street rats. Furthermore, Confederacy Intelligence has been given reason to suspect that the Crucible, labeled a terrorist organization by the Vicelord himself, is at the very least helping coordinate these attacks on the people of Ra’Katha. In order for the Confederacy’s gesture of goodwill to be successful, you must both quell the ongoing fighting in the Great Bazaar, as well as find out who is behind the gilded portraits of the Golden Masks and put an end to it once and for all.

Discomforted by the controversy that bringing Ra’Katha back into the galactic community has created on Ra’Katha, the Kemotar of Saltuhn [member="Bastille Rommer"], perhaps the most influential person on the planet, is considering backing out of entering the Confederacy. To ensure that the Kemotar decides to join the Confederacy so that they can acquire Ra’Katha’s extensive ore reserves, the office of the Vicelord has dispatched a mixed team of ambassadors to court the Kemotar and assuage his fears about joining the Confederacy. Use all of your diplomatic skills to win over the Kemotar to the Confederacy’s side as you pay homage to him in the Kemotat Palace. Drinks will be provided.

A caravan of merchants from the nearby Kunvun’te Trading Post are travelling to Saltuhn. However, a local tribe of Wan’anteen are looking to prey on the unsuspecting and poorly-armed travellers. Will you defend the caravan from the tribal warriors, fighting off their numbers to the best of your ability, or will you try and diffuse the situation peacefully? It is up to you, but remember, the consequences of your decision may have lasting effects on tribal relations on Ra’Katha for generations to come. . .

Although it might be a good idea to be wary of backstabbing knives and other murderous plots, the Great Bazaar of Saltühn is filled with many mystical and exotic silks, fabrics, food, weapons, and items. The magnificent Coperr Street runs all the way from the storefront markets to the Kemotat palace, lined with shops of fine jewelry, weaponsmiths and taverns stocked with famously-potent Ra’Kathan alcohol. Explore Saltühn at your whim, until your want for adventure is contented or your credits run dry!

ACTIVE TAG LIST:

Spoiler

[member="A'Runda"]
[member="Adelle Bastiel"]
[member="Alden Akaran"]
[member="Alkor Centaris"]
@Ari Riggs
[member="Ashara Evanaris"]
[member="Beric Layne"]
[member="Bullwark"]
[member="BX-1335"]
[member="Amelia von Sorenn"]
[member="Aston Jacobs"]
[member="Aya Clarke"]
[member="Caesar Kenway"]
[member="Corvus Dravere"]
[member="Cypher Raige"]
[member="Damsy Callat"]
[member="Darth Tacitus"]
[member="Daxton Bane"]
[member="Destroyer 2873"]
[member="Erin Tenel"]
[member="Eli-Mae Forrest"]
[member="Fawn Alzi"]
@Faye Irithiel
[member="Gerwald Lechner"]
[member="Havoc (CT-375)"]
[member="Holt"]
[member="IG-65A"]
[member="Ingrid L'lerim"]
[member="Ithiel Vi'Dreya"]
[member="Jayce Pryde"]
[member="Jenmae Ophiro"]
Joannis Campbell
[member="John Locke"]
[member="Jorge"]
[member="Josh Dragonsflame"]
[member="Jyoti Nooran"]
[member="Karlie Lynn Destat"]
[member="Kasca Fen"]
[member="Kathryn Foster"]
[member="Kayla Wylen"]
[member="Kiff Brayde"]
[member="Kingsley"]
[member="Krystal Estain"]
[member="Kurayami Bloodborn"]
[member="Kurenai Yumi"]
[member="Kyber"]
[member="Kyrinov"]
[member="Lirka Ka"]
[member="Luna Terrik"]
[member="Luna Vega"]
[member="Lyla Quinn"]
[member="Maani"]
[member="Maple Harte"]
[member="Maria Savilia"]
[member="Maur"]
[member="Mauer"]
[member="Muad Dib"]
[member="Nine Lives"]
[member="Oax Ordo"]
[member="Petra Cavataio"]
[member="Pom Stych Tivé"]
[member="Qaarssk Roark"]
[member="R4-AUD"]
[member="Razelle Breuner"]
[member="Roy Americus"]
[member="Rylan Kordel"]
[member="Sor-Jan Xantha"]
[member="Srina Talon"]
[member="Subject 73 Red"]
[member="Talon Rahl"]
[member="ToKola Bakari"]
[member="Teyla Riggs"]
[member="Tess Valnora"]
[member="Vanric Dannon"]
[member="Veronika Fleischer"]
[member="Voph"]
[member="Vyra Silara"]
[member="Vyse Valorous"]
[member="Vytal Noctura"]
[member="Willow Fae"]

 

[Xobos Yakieer]

Objective: Veiled threat
Equipment: Lightsaber, Faceless Armor (Without helmet)
Mental State: Curious
Tags: @Objective 1 peeps
Post: #1

In all of her travels as the hand of the exarch Malvern, Xobos had been able to see many gorgeous, and less than gorgeous, planets and sights. The crystal caves of Ilum, the winding rivers of Naboo, and the expansive castles of Illyria. But up until this point, she hadn’t visited a planet like rakatha. Everything about it was just beautiful. The cities, people, culture all was so different than anything that she had been around during these past few months. Perhaps she’d grab a few mementos. [member="Cali Ziiva"] would certainly like something by the next time they saw each other, whenever that was. And their relationship, if one would call it that, was near that level where getting gifts was appropriate.

“Focus, little master. There will be time for your tooka cat love later.” Ambrus’s words were quick to cut through her lovey dovey thoughts, getting her to focus back on the mission at hand. Xobos gave a little roll of her eyes, but nodded silently regardless. She was part of the group patrolling the great bazaar, a sprawling area full of merchants and little shops, for anyone wearing a golden mask. They were suspected to be working work the Crucible. She had fought against some of this organization before, and, honestly, didn’t exactly enjoy it. However, the group on this planet seemed a bit more splintered, less coordinated.

Or maybe that was what they wanted the officials of this planet to think while they prepared for something big. Especially now that the confederacy was making it official, hopefully, that the planet was joining with them, a large attack to throw a wrench in those plans seemed like something that could happen. This is the position that the Exarch’s apprentice found her in as she patrolled around the bazaar, looking for any sort of golden mask that she could see. Which was a little hard, considering the amount of gold and golden accents this planet used to decorate….everything.

 

[ToKola Bakari]

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[member="Naomi"]​

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"For the record, Captain. This has to be the dumbest chit you have ever done." Ndugu called out to To'Kola. The two Sandali men stood upon the dunes of Ra'Katha, watching as the evening sun blazed onto the golden sands. To'Kola glanced over to Ndugu, showing a wry smirk that said more than enough. "Aye, but it is not the dumbest thing I will ever do. That you can bet on." To'Kola said, nudging his friend with a confident elbow. It had only been a few days since To'Kola's warband shifted their focus to Ra'Katha. The War Marshal of The Confederacy and Captain of the Jiwe Warband was not here to wage war however. He was here purely for supervisory reasons, but that could well enough be handled by his staff team.

Still, the Sandali warrior did not felt quite as great as he boasted. Every vein in his body had turned a deep shade of charcoal black, and they pushed against his skin as if they were prepared to explode. His eyes, which were usually a vibrant sunburnt orange, were now pools of melancholy fire that appeared to have died out long ago. His lips were dry and even the feeling in his hands was beginning to fade away. Yet, this was nothing. The poison was actually just now entering into his system and truly spreading. For a normal human, this would be the effects right after contact, however for the Sandali whose biology was so complicated they were hardened against most poisons. Except those devised by their own kind.

To'Kola looked back to the tent they had prepared for the roughest times to come. He knew Naomi was here and would likely be expecting his death soon. Yet, she would be presently surprised.

Ndugu gazed at To'Kola before glancing back at the tent. "If you fall, I will rip her head from her-." Before the man could finish his words, To'Kola's hand shot out, slapping against Ndugu's shoulder. "Hautafanya kitu kama hicho!" To'Kola snapped, his face was contorted into a mass of anger and pain that quickly faded, even though his hand remained firmly clasped on Ndugu's shoulder. "You will not dishonor me. If it is the gods will, then I will be taken. However, I am the Great Mountain. I will not fall here." He promised his friend. Ndugu looked to To'Kola searchingly, before turning his gaze back to the tent. "But why for her? We could return to Sandala and find a thousand just like her....Why risk your life, To'Kola?"

The Sandali Captain huffed, before turning his eyes away from Ndugu. "My friend, I do not believe there is even one person like her in the rest of the galaxy." He would say no more on the matter and make his way to the tent. He could feel the poison rushing through him and just now it had reached his heart.

​

 

[Naomi]

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[member=ToKola Bakari] ​

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Ra’Katha was a sand ridden nightmare. Naomi had never been a fan of sand. Despite her homeworld being largely covered in the stuff, her tribe had more of a preference for the jungle. The tiny specks of ground down glass whipped at her skin, got into her eyes till the tears streamed down her face. To’Kola had promised something more than just the monotonous yellow sand they were met with, but Naomi doubted they would get round to it. He wasn’t looking too hot anyway, and the company he kept wasn't exactly fond of the witch. In fact, every time they laid eyes on her Naomi could feel them boring into her. Like the very dagger she had sliced their leader with.

Tucked away in the safety of the tent, the witch allowed her mind to wander. How she had found herself in this position was clear as day, yet she was still forced to question her decision to stay. Granted since she had joined his little troup there had been plenty of opportunities to explore, plenty of chances to do and see things she had never thought possible. For but a brief moment her mind cast back to that day on Kinyen, the metal warriors who fired metal shards into the grunts and saved all their lives. Ever since that day Naomi’s eyes had been opened to a whole world of new, and almost always metal, things. To’Kola had not shied in allowing her to explore, nor had he shied in bestowing knowledge upon her. Perhaps by the end of it all, she wouldn’t mind joining him, that was if he survived the poison.

The very man in question swept into the tent.

‘You look like chit.’ She greeted him as he lifted the flap. Naomi allowed her eyes to scan curiously over the frame in front of her. The poison was progressing just as she had expected it too. Dark lines had begun to creep over his skin, his cheekbones looked hollow and reflected the exhaustion set deep in his eyes. Did she feel a little guilty for putting him in this position, especially after he had saved her life on Kinyen? Naomi had and was still trying to decide whether or not she should. On the one hand, she had been tasked by her tribe to stop his heart, and on the other, she wouldn’t be sitting here right now witnessing his death if it weren’t for his decision to save her.

‘How do you feel?’ She posed the question with a raise of her brow and a small smirk on her face. It was somewhat of a victory knowing that she’d already won, by now she knew the poison would be making its way toward his heart.

 

[ToKola Bakari]

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[member="Naomi"]​

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The flap to the tent parted and as it did, To'Kola was greeted with the sight of Naomi. She had been waiting for this, though he wondered if she knew that he would not die this day. His heart would not stop and the great mountain would not fall. Still, her greeting caused him to chuckle lightly. "Some queen poisoned me." He retorted, passing her and making his way over to a pallet of blankets and pillows that had been prepared for him. There were a number of wines and liquors prepared as well, however they were little more than libations to pass the long times to come. He pulled the cork off one of the bottles and immediately began to down a good deal of the azure liquid. When she asked how To'Kola felt, he couldnt help but clear his throat as he reclined against the pillows.

"My veins are on fire. It feels like someone poured lava into my heart. My head is pounding and I'm hot as all hell." He downed a bit more of the wine before holding the cask out to Naomi. If they were going to share the time, they may as well share a drink as well.

"Why did you come to kill me?" He asked, arching his brow at the woman with a curious expression. He was about to continue but in the next moment his chest grew tight and his body began to catch fire. The blood in his veines coursed and pounded through his body only making the pain that much worse. His body was working so hard to cure the poison from his system, but it was extremely painful to endure. It felt as if someone had a vice grip on his heart.

In a few seconds, the episode had ended and he let out a number of full, raspy breathes. To'Kola looked to Naomi, this time his expression was slightly weaker than it had been the moment before. "Save your expectations, Naomi.....I will not die from this."

He exhaled before looking to the woman, looking at her and noticing something particularly interesting about her. The markings she held, those of a Warrior of their planet, were rather remarkable. He looked to them for a moment before taking another cask of wine and pulling the top off. He downed the wine, large streams flowing over his lips and splashing onto his chest as he did. He could not drink for long, as his breathe was growing lighter. He held the wine to the side while chuckling a bit. "Do you know....what I hate....about the Jiwe Tribe?" He asked her, looking at her with distant, dull eyes.

"The same....thing....I hate....about all of the tribes..." He breathed.

"We war....with ourselves....We fight each other....for land....and territo-" He startled into a coughing fit, before looking to the woman. "We fight for land .....and territory while a whole galaxy sits....waits. Thousands of worlds....Warriors who could truly give us a fight to earn our title as the Sons of the Gods."

"We as a people.....we.....we're unrivaled. None are...stronger. None...are faster...Yet we fight each other....for rocks and streams."

 

[Naomi]

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[member=ToKola Bakari]​

At his words, she offered him an amused chuckle. ‘Perhaps you deserved it.’ Her eyes followed him across the tent as he made his way to the plush pile of pillows laid out for him. Her next question was just as easily answered as the first. Naomi hummed softly at his response, though she found the answer gave her little pleasure. That fact alone didn’t surprise her. He had saved her life, so she took no joy in taking his. ‘Blackroot will do that to you.’ When he offered out the cask she took it gratefully and did not hesitate to take in as much as he had. The sour-tasting alcohol was instantly recognizable to the witch as wine, but she had only tasted it once in her life. The moment it hit her tongue and spread across her taste buds she found her face scrunching up. ‘That tastes almost as bad as you look.’

When he posed his question, Naomi glanced from the cask to the man. For a moment silence fell in the tent as she watched his chest rise and fall sporadically. She felt for him, she honestly did. Blackroot was painful to endure. A poison designed to kill an almost unkillable race had to be. When it seemed as though his pain had passed she let out a barely audible sigh. ‘What makes you think you will not die, ToKola? I have watched many a warrior die from this poison. I have almost died from this poison. What makes you special?’ Without waiting for an answer she corked the cask in her hand and pushed herself up off the floor, heading over to a table laid out on one end of the tent.

‘Your question… does it really need an answer? Sandali has been at war for as long as you or I have lived. All the tribes want to spill the blood of others, all of them want the victory that comes hand in hand with death. It just so happens that you were my victory. My chance.’ Her hands busied themselves as she talked, uncorking another clear glass bottle that sat on the table. When she paused in her speech she reached down to tear off a corner of her clothing, filling the tent with the sharp shredding sound of ripped material. With the bottle she had just uncorked she soaked the relatively clean cloth in a cool wave of water, hoping it would ease some of his ailments if only a little. As he dived into the speech she found herself smirking. Many of her people, many of her generation, shared the same thoughts as he.

Once the cloth was sufficiently damp, Naomi turned to face ToKola. ‘We fight because we must, I suppose. Our ancestors fought and so too shall we. Though I admit I’ve never really understood why we fight a war that does not belong to us, but one person and one tribe alone cannot bring it to a standstill. All the tribes must agree, and so too must all their people.’ In one graceful step, she crossed the distance between them and lowered herself cross-legged by his side. ‘I doubt that will happen any time soon, not while we are all so divided.’ The witch leant forward to wipe the sweat from his forehead with the cool cloth. It was a strange sensation, nursing the man she intended to watch die, but it pained her to see one of her people in so much agony.

She also took the time to wipe away the wine that had dribbled down his chin. In this heat, it would only turn sticky, but as she worked, she spoke. ‘Why did you leave home?’

 

[ToKola Bakari]

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[member="Naomi"]​

​

Even To'Kola could not help but laugh at Naomi's joke. He groaned, settling into the pillows a bit more while the woman spoke.

"It's all they......have on.......this world." He muttered, speaking about the wine. When the woman asked him why he would not die, he could not yet gather an answer. Partly because he had already been taken into another fit of pain, but mostly because he was not sure how to answer that. This fit of pain came stronger than the last. His sunburnt eyes were slowly beginning to leak the black blood that had been flowing through his body. He could not notice, for his eyes were clenched shut. It was several minutes this time, before his labored breathing finally came to a stop.

"We...we fight because that is all we know?" He started to let out a weak, shallow laugh. "A poor, karking excuse."

"No...No we fight because no one has the willpower to stop it. Ou-Our Elders...T-they believe that we must fight.....an eternal war for glory to the gods."

"I have fought.....I have fought wars of glory. I have died!" He groaned, yelling out before his body settled back against the pallet. He could feel Naomi brushing the sweat from his brow. It caused him to smile, albeit weakly. "Y-you....you won't get the honor of killing me....If...If you help me get better." He forced out.

He exhaled, before speaking softly, this time having an answer for Naomi's question. It was a genuine one, why would any man leave Sandala when it held everything that made them who they are. The answer was simple. "Sandala is my home....It....It is filled with my people...but it is only a piece of my destiny." He explained, before pressing a hand to his chest. The center of his massive chest held a large horizontal scar, which had come from the day he had been pierced by a golden blade. "I fought warriors....who could lay waste to entire worlds....they ended my life. Severed the arteries to my heart....but the gods willed me back to life." He exhaled, the exhaustion from the poison beginning to catch up with him. "I saw the destiny....of our people....it is not just war....it is unity."

"That is why....I will not die here.....I must....I must unify our people and lead them to a new path, as Warchief."

​

 

[Naomi]

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[member=ToKola Bakari]​

‘Sssh…’ She soothed him gently when he yelled, stroking a hand across the ebony hair on his head. ‘A cold cloth will not save you, ToKola, and I have already had the honour of killing you. All that’s left to do is to wait for you to die.’ The cloth came back up to touch his face. First, the crimson tears that trickled down his cheeks, and then the beads of sweat that had pearled upon his forehead. ‘Besides, no matter my intentions for your life, you are Sandali. I respect you too much to watch you die in such discomfort.’ Naomi pressed her lips together at the end of her sentence, as though the words had slipped from her mouth. ‘I had expected you to put up a fight when I first attacked… I expected to kill you with my blade, not like this. This was more of a backup, just in case you were victorious. I am sorry.’ Though the words were ironic there was definitely truth to them.

ToKola had already spoken of his own death, so she moved the conversation swiftly on. ‘I felt you die. I had been tracking you for so long, I had gone so far.’ Naomi had longed to know what on earth had managed to kill him, she had just never expected to get the chance to find out. ‘I was surprised to wake one day to find your life force was nowhere to be seen and equally surprised to find it returned one day. I got into a lot of trouble for it.’ She could still feel the sharp words her tribe had shared with her when they came to the realisation that ToKola was alive, and not dead as Naomi had cried from the mountain tops, but that was in the past now.

The answer to her question came next, and Naomi did him the favour of turning to look in his eyes as he spoke, though they were not held there for long. The scar on his chest was a deep silver gash that shimmered in the fire lighting up the tent. Not being able to resist the temptation, with her free hand she reached out to trace the length of it gently, as though it were the most precious thing on this godforsaken planet. It was impressive, a wound well worth dying for. She could only wonder who it was the gods had seen fit to award the opportunity to bestow it upon him.

‘Unity…’ She tutted softly, withdrawing her hand from his chest, but if she thought the idea of unity was amusing his next notion blew her away. Naomi narrowed her eyes at him. She almost wanted to laugh in his face. ‘The warchief is a story to settle children when their minds worry about the war, nothing more. Nobody could take that mantle up and make the tribes listen, least of all you.’ It must have been the poison. The fever was raising his body temperature beyond anything Naomi had ever seen, and it was allowing insanity to settle in his mind. ‘Sandala knows of no warchiefs save for the ones in myths and legends, and you think the gods have told you of this? In the throes of death and in the peace of their kingdom, they told you that this is your path? It sounds like a delusion to me.’ She lifted the bottle of water up to soak the cloth and apply it once more to his forehead.

 

[ToKola Bakari]

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[member="Naomi"]​

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The longer it kept up, the harder it was to remain conscious. His body was demanding that it shut down and rest, to better deal with the poison. However, To'Kola would not give it such a satisfaction. He needed to be alive and alert for as long as possible, because once he fell to the darkness, then he would not arise again until the poison had run it's course. It could be hours or it could be days.

"Never....Never apologize for the lives you take....you dishonor....you dishonor yourself. Stand proud....for each one you claim. But...you will not claim mine." He promised her, the fire in his eyes dull, yet still burning.

​He listened as she spoke, reciting her voice to his memory and finding it something that could not be matched. it was oddly soothing, even as she chided him and denounced his words. It did not matter. He knew he sounded insane. No, he was insane. To claim the title of Warchief was something that even the most powerful of Sandali Chiefs had been unable to do. His hand shot out, knocking the water from her own as his eyes settled on her. "I...will.....once I have.....recovered. I will return....I will return to my home....and with my own hands...I will destroy the foundation of all that we have....and reforge it. The Sandala Horde will march....again. Under my command.....and...."

His eyes flitted, the light dying from them as the fever began to overtake him. "You...will witness....it." He barely managed, before his eyes began to close and his body went into a state of arrest. His muscles finally loosened and his heartbeat, feint though it was, had maintained for the time being. As he dreamed the silent dream, the Force layered itself around him as if focusing itself on his healing factor and all that he was.

The night to come would be long. It would be a new hell unlike any the man had experience. However, when he rose, he would arise a new man.

 

[Naomi]

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[member=ToKola Bakari]​

A grin crossed her expression for but a brief moment. ‘I apologise for the way I take your life, not for taking it in the first place. A slow and painful death is not one any Sandali deserves. You deserve to die on the battlefield with a wound so grave you can’t rise from it, just like you did once before.’ His never-ending insistence that he would not die was admirable, but for Naomi hearing, it was a wound she was sure she would never heal from. Why did she feel like she cared for this warrior? Why was there the smallest tingle of hope in the pit of her stomach that perhaps, just maybe, he might survive this? The thought was cast aside immediately, instead replaced with the busy motions of a healer tending to their sick.

When the bottle of water flew across the tent, it was instinct to catch the thing that had flung it. He mumbled again about the wild dream the gods had given him, but Naomi couldn't bring herself to entertain his delusion. Instead, she focused on the hand that she had caught. It almost entirely swallowed hers, but she wrapped her fingers around it regardless. However, it wasn’t the hand that gave her pause, it was the eyes. Eyes filled with fire that could not be quenched, even at the doorstep of death. They were mesmerizing, it took every bone in her body not to stare into them like a love-struck maiden. She was not a maiden, she was a warrior, just as much as he.

She wouldn’t be charmed by dazzling eyes… but they were so inviting.

‘Sssh..’ She soothed him again. ‘You waste your energy. If you’re to prove me wrong, you must fight.’ Leaning forward, as close to him as she dared, slender fingers reached out and stroked his hair with a feather-light touch. She could see the strain on his face as he tried to groan out the last few words. Naomi moved again, resting her chest against his and leaning until her lips grazed his ear. ‘Sleep now…’ Her voice trailed off into a calming whisper that morphed into a soulful hum. The tune was one any Sandli would know, a song sung by the fireside when the nights were cold. One sung for comfort, for warmth and for family. It was the only song every tribe on Sandala shared without shame, without argument, without the hint of the war that raged throughout their culture. As his eyes slipped closed her voice broke out into gentle lyrics meant to soothe the soul.

Force overtook the tent, swallowing it whole with everything it could give. Naomi was no stranger to it. Without it, she would have assumed ToKola dead… but no. He was alive, barely. As his heartbeat slowed to an almost painful pace Naomi sat up from her place and drew her knees up to her chest. She could have left the tent, there were plenty of things to explore outside. She’d heard the other warriors talk of a market filled with exotic things that no Sandali had ever laid eyes on before, but her feet would not allow her. Instead, she would remain by his side until his heart stopped or his eyes opened. It was just…

Naomi wasn’t sure which she wanted more.

 

[ToKola Bakari]

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[member="Naomi"]​

​

The night had come and now it had left.

The fever had come and now it had left.

The poison had come and now it had left.

As the morning sun crested the horizon, the world of Ra'Katha seemed to be something entirely different than what it had been when To'Kola first laid eyes on it. His sunburnt eyes gazed over the sands with a sure expression. His lips had curled into a confident smile, one that would not soon falter. His body, though weak, had regained some of it's color, some of it's strength.

So for the earliest part of the morning, he simply stood, allowing Naomi to sleep and allowing the rest of the poison to purge through his body. His veins slowly turned back to their natural hue, no longer seeming like black snakes that filled his arms and legs. The scars from where Naomi had first cut him were all but healed, except for the slight line of discoloration that flowed over them. He exhaled, accepting the cool wind that came with the morning.

"Yibambe." He said, before crossing his arms and maintaining that sure smile that he had held. The night had been so long, yet he could not remember it. Most of it had been endured without him being conscious. A few times his heart had stopped, but every time he refused to die. The gods would not take him. Still, as the morning sun brightened, he found himself remembering something as if it was from a dream. Softly, with barely the breath of a whisper, he began to hum a tune. A tune he had not heard since he was a young boy, yet now he hummed it as if he had heard it only yesterday.

 

[Naomi]

​

[member=ToKola Bakari]​

The night had been long and stressful, for ToKola and Naomi. Most of her time by his side had been spent watching the random rise and fall of his chest, straining her ears to listen for the telltale thud of his heart, wondering whether or not she had made a mistake. Praying to the gods to fix it, and then changing her mind just as quickly. To be stuck in a place where you wished death on someone you felt only deserved to live was beyond perplexing. The notion taxed her so that at some point during the night she had slipped into a deep yet somehow unrestful sleep.

A sleep filled with sordid nightmares of what her tribe would say should they have seen her now, of what she would do if she woke to find ToKola dead or alive, of what the other warriors would do…

Naomi shot up, dazed and confused by her surroundings. The cream walls of the tent billowed in the slip of a breeze that rolled over the sandy orange dunes. Raising her hand to clear the sleep from her eyes, the events of last night began to seep into her mind like puzzle pieces sliding together. As though she had suddenly remembered ToKola's existence, her body turned at the waist to frantically search the pillows he had slept on. There was nothing. Only a damp, cold patch where he had been lying during the peak of his fever. Her brows knitted together in confusion. Did this mean he had passed or was he well again? For a moment she did nothing but stare at the empty place, hands pressed against the indentation his body had made in the plush pillow.

There was no point sitting and musing, it was best to go and ask one of the other warriors, no matter the consequences.

Naomi pushed herself up off the pillows, stretching her arms up to the ceiling of the tent to shake off the tension of sleep. It must have been early morning as the desert air still held a hint of a chill, so Naomi swept up a discarded fur cloak that lay in a heap on the floor and wrapped it around her shoulders. One of her hands poked out from beneath it to lift the tent flap, which immediately bathed her in the warming orange glow of the rising sun. Beautiful shades of reds and yellows were cast across the horizon as though the light had used it as a canvass. The scene almost reminded her of home, but she didn’t linger on it for too long. Instead, she scanned the immediate area surrounding the tent and was pleasantly surprised to find they came to rest on a familiar form.

‘I see you made it…’ Even from behind she could sense that he was well again. Not completely and entirely back to his full health, but it was creeping up on him slowly. The black lines decorating his skin had faded, the weakness in his muscles had been replaced by determination, even the way he stood spoke volumes. The only reason Naomi found herself surprised at this was because… well, she had wanted it. She had wanted to wake to find him well, and perhaps deep down she had wanted to join his troupe no matter what, but with ToKola alive she now had no choice. Yet, she couldn’t say she was wholly disappointed.

She crept to his side, bare feet sinking into the slowly warming sand. Together they stood and faced the rising sun. ‘It’s beautiful, isn’t it?’

 

[Cali Ziiva]

​

Objective: Veiled Threat - Great Bazaar
Outfit: Type A
Tags: [member="Xobos Yakieer"] | Open

Gold. Amber. Tan. Beige. White. Brown. Black. The latter two were naturals to the list. Who didn't like wearing dark colors on a desert planet, right? Entire civilizations sported the color because... well, surely there was a reason.

Take Cali, for instance, she was wearing black and purple because it was her latest stylistic choice. Oh, maybe she should adopt more of the local fashion. Maybe she shouldn't. Like, they should be happy there wasn't any skin showing aside from her hands and face. Totally had an entire wardrobe full of wildly inappropriate attire, and she'd politely not chosen any of those outfits.

Now, the pink woman had purchased this delightful, lace headscarf to drape over her fluffy tuffs of pink. Nothing wrong with keeping the sun off her hair a bit to limit the damage and the amount of moisturizing wash she'd have to do later. Hygiene was important! Especially if you were a Zeltron. Always had to be presentable because you never knew what party activity would come up next.

A soft giggle followed thin, pink fingers elevating a golden necklace off a tabletop. "I don't know, do you think this would look good with a red glow? I don't suppose you have white gold?" Seeing how she'd ended up on the planet, the Zeltron had taken the opportunity to explore the local market. It was a perk of the job. Met new people. Saw new places. Made new credits.

Still hadn't found that Jedi Master.

"Just about anything is made out of gold around here, huh? Rings... Bracelets... Chains... Necklaces... Earrings... Masks. Actually, I don't think I've seen that many stalls selling masks. Kind of strange isn't it?" Just small talk to pass the time while she considered whether to buy something. Nothing was meant by it. No one could get Cali mixed up with any sort of local Guard or the like. Just an ignorant outsider committing an unintentional faux pas talking about golden masks.

"Oh?" The Zeltron blinked. "Really?" She turned her head to the left and looked over the crowd around them. A moment later she looked back at the vendor. "I guess I hadn't noticed, but I haven't been here long. I hope whoever is behind it is caught soon so no one else gets hurt." Golden Masks terrorists were plaguing the Bazaar. Sounded like a good way to toss in some instability. Rile people up. "I'll try to be more careful."

 

[Valencia Hadley]

​

Objective: Honeyed Tongue
Location: Kemotat Palace, Ra'Katha
Wearing: XXX
Tags: [member="Bastille Rommer"] | [member="Gerwald Lechner"] | Open

- - -​

​

This all felt oddly familiar...

The former Viceroy of Manda had been doing her utmost to stay off of any radar since the events following the invasion of Kuat. Her reasons had been her own, and she'd seen fit to keep them from those who had become the closest... But when the call came down that someone with the gift of persuasion would be required to speak with the Kemotar of Sultahn in order to try and smooth the transition of Ra'Katha into the welcoming arms of the Confederacy... Well, somehow her name had made it onto a list somewhere.

Dressed in a piece she'd been assured would suit the occasion, the budding Force adept had been ushered onto a transport with a security detail along with the rest of the envoy and sent on their way. She'd been provided with a dossier with the information required not to trip onto her face immediately upon meeting the Kemotar, and they'd departed with haste. Valencia was grateful that she'd found herself in similar situations on several occasions previously - but even more so she was grateful that her handler had seen fit to provide her with a security detail.

The blonde hadn't met the towering man that was [member="Gerwald Lechner"] formally, but she'd seen him before. Her stint with the KO had provided her with cause to meet quite a few new faces, but unfortunately there hadn't been much time for introductions in many of the situations that had arisen as a result. Difficult to make small talk when everyone is pouring out of transports to deal with hostiles - and the trips home often left many devoid of the energy or the will to converse.

Unfortunately for them both, the necessity of preparation ensured that the emissary was unable to speak much of their trip to Ra'Katha as well, but as their ship set down upon it's designated landing pad, the diminutive woman collected her datapad and made her way to the Knight's side. They were meant to present a warm welcome, and it would not do to indicate that they didn't trust their host with their safety during these talks. She had a plan, and since the much larger man was unlikely to see her as a threat himself, she assumed he would humor her.

"My apologies for not being very good company on the trip over," she began, shifting the datapad to her left hand and offering Gerwald a smile that could thaw even the most chilled of hearts. "I'm Valencia Hadley. I believe we've had the pleasure of working together in the past." Her right hand rose, elegantly painted nails in the same colour as the gold trimmed gown she wore turned to the side, her palm open to accept his own in greeting should he choose to accept. "Since we're meant to be the welcome wagon, perhaps you'd be willing to assist me with presenting a somewhat less," her voice trailed off as her eyes dipped from his own to take his measure, darting back up to meet his once more, that dazzling smile never so much as wavering, "intimidating first impression?"

The sound of the ramp extending and the bay doors sliding open announced the all clear to exit their transport, causing a mischievous sparkle to enter the sky blue eyes of the Confederacy's mandated envoy. She stepped forward and moved to stand beside the massive lupine man, facing the door. Her left hand rose, hovering by his side, seemingly waiting for him to offer his arm so that they might exit together.

"It's been my experience that when you enter a room as a pair of beaming blondes, people find it very difficult to be threatened by you - wouldn't you agree?" She gave the man another of her heart stopping smiles, this one bringing the dimples in her cheeks to stark relief, before she turned her attentions to the ramp and started down, whether he'd offered his arm or not.

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

Location: Kemotat Palace, Ra'Katha
Wearing: xxx
Tags: [member="Bastille Rommer"] | [member="Valencia Hadley"] | Open

Duty was the word which summed up Gerwald's current existence. If he was not protecting the Minister of Science, Gerwald was protecting someone. Today it was [member="Valencia Hadley"]. He did not know the woman well, in fact their previous interactions had been limited to whatever missions they had found themselves on together. In most of those cases there were a number of them, and so Gerwald had to admit he did not know this woman. She had once been a Knight Obsidian, now a Viceroy, and her job was to negotiate away the hesitancy of their host. Naturally this was the work for a beautiful woman and not a titan of a man. With the Cabal on the loose, it wasn't so much the host was not trusted to play nice, but that no Viceroy was going to travel unaccompanied.

The trip had been quiet, something Gerwald seemed to prefer more often these days. His near brush with death made him more introspective, and more to the point with his words. If there was nothing to say, well the once charismatic Knight did not need to say anything. It seemed his traveling companion felt guilty for not being much of a conversationalist on their way, but Gerwald truly could not have minded. In fact, the wolf was more grateful than offended.

Introductions were made, a formal one, and Gerwald took the hand presented to him.

"Gerwald Lechner, and yes, I do believe our paths have crossed before," a firm shake was offered, the large man from Stewjon unable to offer anything but.

She wanted him to help be less intimidating. Gerwald could not help the chuckle which escaped his lips as the woman looked him over with her eyes. She was measuring him, taking his stock into account perhaps. How could he be less intimidating? Gerwald was paid to be intimidating. His body was molded to be intimidating. The thing asked of him was a concept Gerwald was not sure he could project.

"And I assume you have suggestions on how I can I help you do this?"

The question was fair considering Gerwald was there to protect, and in part that meant he needed to be proactive about any potential threat. His armor was another factor. Gerwald had not come dressed to negotiate. He looked like a warrior because he was a warrior.

She offered her arm as the transport's exit ramp lowered. Her idea was quite interesting, however the fact Gerwald stood a good 14 inches taller than her made taking her arm an interesting task. He mused to himself that she did not fit in quite the right way. Gerwald had never been one to think or notice such things, and certainly he had known shorter women, his sister was one of them. The lupine simply found something was odd or off, and while he could not place it, he also knew why.

"They do say that blondes have more fun," he quipped knowing that he could smile and not be stoic when the situation arose for it. "And if you would rather I play the part of escort than bodyguard I can do that well enough."

His own bright smile was offered in return as he finally offered his own arm in return. As they walked down the ramp, Gerwald kept his eyes keen for any threats, allowing Valencia to do what she was there to do. She would win over politicians with her smile and her charm.

 

[Valencia Hadley]

Objective: Honeyed Tongue
Location: Kemotat Palace, Ra'Katha
Wearing: XXX
Tags: Bastille Rommer | Gerwald Lechner | Open

- - -​

​

Well thank goodness for that...

As the stoic face that had been her silent companion on their trip finally broke into a warm smile, accepting her hand against his arm, the woman visibly relaxed. It would have been nearly imperceptible to most, but it was difficult to miss the tension that seeped from her as the pair began to descend the ramp. Despite their notable difference in height, the much smaller woman managed to match his gate with perceived ease. It would seem that she'd had some experience striding along beside people with a notable height difference.

"You know, I've heard it said before that blondes have more fun," her voice came to him, this time much lower as they began their journey towards that group of what she assumed would be dignitaries and formative citizenry meant to escort them to the Kemotar. "There was a time some years ago where I decided to try on something a bit darker, shade wise - and I found I still had just as much fun." The blonde's eyes never strayed from the target before them as they strolled and spoke, still cradling the datapad in her right arm as they continued along. "Though that could be because I'm just fun regardless."

That polite grin broke into a wide smile, brilliant white teeth flashing as they approached their welcome committee. She careful disentangled herself from his arm to make with pleasantries and greetings, ensuring that both she and Gerwald were introduced in turn, including any other members of their group that had seen fit to join on this particular piece of business on Ra'Katha. The Manda native made her way effortlessly through this particular piece of their work, charming and pleasant as always - ensuring that as their group departed towards the palace interior proper, it was with a cloud of laughter surrounding them.

Valencia didn't elect to take Gerwald's arm as they began their trip to meet with the Kemotar, instead walking quietly at his side as everyone chatted amiably and made their way through the gilded halls. That same sweet, though muted, smile painted her lips as they marched along, but it seemed the woman was far more interested in listening to those they traveled with instead of speaking for the time being.

There would be plenty of time for talking once they met this new face they were meant to feel welcome to the Confederacy.

 

[Alluria Ivalice]

​

LOCATION: Great Bazaar​

EQUIPMENT: 2x Lightsabers​

WEARING: x​

​

* * * * * * * * * *​

​

Slow steps guide her through the bustling expanse of the Great Bazaar, examining the gold which it turns out was.. everywhere. Had someone told her of a planet in which gold was so common that it was the primary choice for decoration, perhaps she would have called them a fool. Unless of course, it had to do with those disgusting Hutts she had heard tale of. They seemed to enjoy things like that. Or so she had heard. Alluria would stand out among the populace. If not for her darker clothing, the tone of her skin or vibrant eyes would do the trick.​

​

Ever as she walked, her senses remained open to the surrounding area, centering herself within the Force enough for her senses to awaken. Beyond that, the feeling of eyes upon her didn't seem to bother disturb her in the slightest. She wasn't aware how many of her kind would be seen away from the homeworld, nor did she truly care to consider it.​

​

Choosing simply to browse the wares, she'd occasionally glance around at other stalls, perhaps seeking items of value. No, not credit value. But value to one seeking knowledge within the Force itself. You never know where they may turn up.​

​

TAGS: [member="Xobos Yakieer"], [member="Cali Ziiva"], Open​

 

[ToKola Bakari]

​

​

[member="Naomi"]​

​

The man's smile grew slightly wider as Naomi approached. He turned towards her, giving her a knowing wink before he let out a quick laugh. "Of course. I am the Great Mountain." He boasted, before looking to Naomi closely. "You never left my side....Through the night. I could still feel your presence long after I was taken by the fever." For To'Kola, who boasted martial strength and physical will there was far more to being a Master of the Force than mere command over it. His feelings, senses, and instincts were as finely tuned as any beasts. So even as he slept, he felt as if he could hear Naomi's voice and feel her touch. It had been that focal point which gave him a measure of strength to drive on. So long as her presence was next to his, he knew he would survive.

"Thank you." He said, his arms crossing over his chest while he turned back to the horizon. As Naomi's gaze matched his, he took a moment to allow his eyes to turn back to her, taking in all that she was. She was only slightly shorter than him, with a body that to his eyes, was flawless. He drank in her form and the elegance of a warrior as if it was a fine liquor. Her braids fell down over her back and all he could do was admire how they fell into the curve of her spine. When finally she spoke again of the beauty of the land, all the warrior could do was speak his mind. "Yes...It's beauty cannot be rivaled." He said, though there was not even the slightest indication that what he spoke of was the horizon.

He allowed his eyes to linger for but a moment before the sound of commotion could be heard behind him. He turned back to the tent to see that his own warriors were returning from the nearby settlement. Yet...they were not alone. With them were some strange Bantha like beasts, filled with large gourds of wine and crates of savory smelling meats. Many of the locals journeyed with them, talking and making a joyous noise as though they had found themselves enjoying a nice vacation. To'Kola huffed, turning back to the scene with an arched brow. "What mess is this?" He said, before turning to Ndugu, who seemed to lead the caravan.

"Ah! I told you all, he lives!" The man yelled out. The way his feet slapped into each other and his words slurred it was painfully obvious the man was drunk. "Ok, pay up!" All of the other Sandali let out a deep groan, digging into their pockets, searching for the credit chits they had been given by To'Kola for their enjoyment. They tossed the chits towards Ndugu who laughed as they slapped onto his back. "Sore...losers!" He yelled back, stumbling as he did. To'Kola merely stood, with a bemused smirk on his face as he watched the man collect his winnings.

"You asses bet that I would die last night?" To'Kola called out, looking up to his men in mock surprise.

"No...no....no. We all bet that you would die days ago. But Ndugu bet you would at least make it through last night and die this morning...So he won by being closest to the truth." A lithe Sandali woman called out from atop one of the beasts. She was oddly dressed in the robes of the natives, with a number of odd facial paintings marked over her.

"Really Imani? When did you believe I would die?" He asked the woman, who only laughed out in response.

"About an hour after we made the bet. No one survives the Black Vein." She chuckled out. Her own words slurring terribly.

"When did you make the bet?" To'Kola asked. Both Ndugu and Imani responded to this in kind. "Right after you were poisoned." They said in a practically rehearsed unison. This caused To'Kola to wave his hand at them dismissively. "Some Warband." He muttered before gesturing to the caravan that still seemed to be coming. "And what is this?"

This time it was another warrior, Tendaji, who spoke up. "They've come to celebrate your funeral, apparently these people consider dying a great honor....but since your alive, we're celebrating that instead!" He laughed, while dropping down from the beast and throwing a gourd of ale to To'Kola.

"So, she's staying?" Tendaji asked, looking to Naomi with an intrigued eye.

To'Kola noticed how the rest of the Warband had turned silent in anticipation of the question. To'Kola merely smirked and took Naomi's hand. He pulled her from her feet and hefted her onto his shoulder with strength that should not exist. "Kijito kinakua!"

All replied with one victorious yell.

"Yibambe!"

 

[Naomi]

​

[member=ToKola Bakari]​

Turning her head just in time to catch him wink at her, Naomi found a flush of heat rising up and settling on her cheeks. She snapped her gaze back to the sunset in an attempt to quell it. No man had ever made her blush before, especially not with an action as simple as winking. Luckily, he furthered her attempt in distraction with his rumbling baritone voice. What he followed it up with caused her to wrap her arms around her midriff defensively. It was some source of personal contention that she had stayed by his side. ‘I…’ She began, but cut herself short. What could she say that would explain her actions? Everything beside admitting that she had made a mistake when she poisoned him seemed… forced.

‘Ulikuwa ukipigana.’ Finally, she made herself turn back to him. There was a smile on her face that she hadn’t planned on being there, but she was in no hurry to hide it. ‘I made a wager with you, to join your warband should you survive. Part of that means standing by your side while you fight. No matter the battlefield or the opponent.’ It was hardly a lie, but she had managed to dodge the truth as much as she was willing. What he said next forced a beaming smile onto her lips, one that lit up her face like a sunbeam and set deep dimples in her cheeks. She could think of nothing in response, so she simply leaned into him and bumped his arm with her shoulder.

The ordinary thing to do the moment their skin came into contact would have been to move, but Naomi made no motions too. ‘I am glad.’ Their sudden closeness was comforting. ‘That you survived, I mean.’ She glanced up just in time to catch his lingering stare, which she returned with a curious gaze of her own, but the moment was not to last any longer.

Turning with him, the band of warriors cast an impressive outline against the sandy dunes as they made their way back to camp, and it seemed they had brought company. The crowd of natives were in good spirits, chatting and laughing between themselves in the most beautiful chorus. As they approached a conversation broke out between the warband, and though Naomi had no right to join in she found herself visibly chuckling at the words they shared. They reminded her of home, and of her people. At that moment, she was firm in the knowledge that belonging to this tribe wouldn’t be the worst thing in the Galaxy. She may even enjoy it.

Naomi’s shoulders visibly tensed when the eyes of the other warriors came to rest on her frame. The entire troupe fell silent in response to the posed question. Naomi could feel the tension in the air, it felt like one wrong move would snap it violently, so she stood as still as possible with a deep breath of warm air held in her lungs. Strange though it was to feel such tension around her own people, Naomi knew what it meant. The Jiwe tribe were not one to welcome outsiders into their ranks. The very notion that someone had been given the opportunity, never mind someone who had attempted to murder their leader in cold blood, was likely a strange and infuriating one for the rest of the group.

The witch hardly noticed ToKola’s reaction, not until she felt his hand grasp hers and pulled her aggressively into the air as though she weighed nothing. A grin immediately broke out onto her face as he found her waist and set her upon his shoulders, an honour Naomi hadn’t expected so suddenly from the warrior. The shout of celebration from the warband elicited another beaming smile from the witch, and she found herself unable to resist the temptation to join in. ‘YIBAMBE!!’ After an enthusiastic fist thrust into the air, Naomi glanced down at ToKola. Her face was flushed with adrenaline and excitement, as was her voice as she spoke. ‘Now, let's get chit faced.’

 

[Malok]

Warmth was a foreign concept.

After such a lengthy trek within the primordial depths, witnessing the rays of an actual star stung the eyes. The Sith could literally feel the heat washing over every fiber of his being. The dryness of the air embraced him, attempting to thaw weeks upon weeks of chill which had settled into his bones. For what purpose was it that he had subjected himself to such torments? For what reason did the Vicelord abandon the comforts of his offices and home to walk a frigid, forgotten plane? T'was certainly not for virtue, but rather...for Might.

The modern Galaxy was always in a turbulent state of being. To safeguard his masterpiece, the man called Metus had to honor the traditions of the title Darth. To bear such was a challenge to all creation - to bare his teeth against the stars and all it can muster. Thus, when one far greater than he slithered into his life, he was not blind to the opportunity. She, mother of the primordial, had challenged him at first. Spoken truths of what was to come many moons from the present. And, while Darth Metus had resisted at first, he now understood.

Symbiosis was the foundation upon which they would stand.

However, he could not reside within the darkness indefinitely. Where she was effectively immortal, he was still a son of the mundane. While he had grown vastly within her labirynth, it was necessary to return to the waking world earlier than desired. His body was at its absolute limit, for one. And, for another, his masterpiece had need of his presence. His Knights Obsidian whispered into the void, keeping him abreast of the Confederacy's tidings whilst he trained. And a prospective entrant into the fold had need of his direct attention.

Some would think that his place would be at the table, using wit and his silvered tongue to ease the worries of the leadership. Yet, as soon as the Sith set foot upon the desert world, he felt the presence of one he knew implicitly. [member="Valencia Hadley"] 's presence upon Ra'Katha meant that all matters political were in vastly capable hands. And thus, the Sith could set his gaze upon other avenues. Mainly. Destruction. Word soon reached him of a caravan which was in need of protection from local banditry.

Darth Metus did not accompany them. Rather, he was their vanguard and set out far ahead.

At a glance, it would have appeared to the Wan’anteen plaguing the dunes that he was alone. Yet the Sith was never far from the mistress of shadow. As he could begin to feel their sordid lives before him, the Sith settled his burning gaze upon their numerous hiding spots. Behind boulders and ridges. Below the fall of dunes where they naked eye could not witness. His lips curved into the beginnings of a smile.

"[member="Darth Elyria"]. Might I have this dance?"

Snap. Hiss.