Blood for Blood

[Mediha]

It may have been her imagination, but Mediha was fairly certain one of the Nightbrothers engaged in the fight to the death with the giant spider has smiled specifically at her, rather than at Ras, the central focus of the group. It happened in a moment, too fast for her to be sure, and was interrupted by the Terentatek taking the attack of opportunity it was offered.

A shriek of agony caused Mediha to dart her gaze to a different section of the maze, away from the idiocy of the Brothers who were surely about to die. A slightly larger group of Brothers, clearly hoping that numbers would save them, was being overrun by one of the other hellish denizens of the maze, one Brother succumbing while his group mates continued to fend off the slathering beasts.

Mediha raised her brows at the spectacle as she predicted the mistakes they would make and saw them, one by one, come true in one manner or another. Bored, she redirected her attention to the original Brothers, surprised to see both were still living and... succeeding. Mediha risked a glance sidelong at Ras and the Nightbrothers who had chosen to watch the spectacle. Ras's expression was as collected as Mediha's, but from the profile vantage Mediha had, her eyes nearly glowed with excitement and were clearly fixated on the same pair Mediha had been watching. The acolyte turned her attention back to the maze, more calculations going on in her brain. She could not help them without Ras noticing, but, if they came out of this under their own power, even if there were others in the final trials, Mediha thought she knew which males Ras would be making her selection from.

And, if the other were consigned to death and she were to save him from it as her rightfully claimed prize...

The trials suddenly began to look vaguely interesting.

[member="Zared Rinaren"] [member="Anderit Rinaren"]

 

[Placeholder 0134]

"Working on it!"

The beast was wavering, and so were the brothers. Its movements were sluggish and random; the Terentatek was dying, but if the brothers failed to survive until the creature's end, then there would be no point to the conflict. The tribe would sing of their glories, and then they would be forgotten as all who fell in these trials were. That was not a fate Anderit would allow for himself, or for his brother.

The glaive carved a bloody arc across the monster's inner cheek. Another twist tore away skin and teeth, and shredded the blade of the glaive. The final thrust drove it down the monster's throat and into its esophagus. The creature let forth a mighty wail before its cries were drowned out by a steady gurgling. Within seconds, the Terentatek lay dead at their feet, having drowned in its own blood.

The nightbrother drew up to his full height and reached for his glaive. Unfortunately the weapon was stuck in the monster's thick flesh. Anderit was unarmed, battered, and bleeding.

"Not even the Sith of the inner rim can claim such a feat!" He boomed in triumph, "Zared, we've won. This had to be the great trial."

From above, the Sith woman began to descend. For the life of him. Anderit could not recall her name. She stood tall above the two warriors from her dais above the battle ground. A heavy cloak shrouded her visage, but Anderit knew she was studying them.

"Interesting," she snickered, "Which of you believes himself worthy to stand at my side and ascend? Which of you is strong enough to be mine?"

[member="Zared Rinaren"]

 

[Darth Eversor]

QSR*T: "It's been awhile... tell me. How have you been?"

Z*RV66: "..."

QSR*T: "You'll answer me."

Z*RV66: "No."

SR*TQ: "Fine. Your fate is sealed."

Z*RV66: "You know nothing."

SR*TQ: "What?"

Z*RV66: "I'll find you."

SR*TQ: "You will die."

---TRANSMISSION END---

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N-Okwy7K1tI​

Years were what had been a while. Sitting in darkened alleys and spilling the blood of the convicted and drug addicts had its finer moments, but once that had been left behind, Zius' eyes were set on something much more humbled and refined. From adolescence to now, a great change had been made in his personality and perspective. He was more or less made whole by this experience. Molded and shaped anew with the brighter future to shine down on his back and kiss his artificial skin with reminders of the past. A warmth overtook the former Jedi Hunter as he focused on his thoughts and brought forth the darkest hours of his prime, feeding on it and harnessing it with an almost perfect sense of control and authority of who he was. A taint still stained his heart and blackened his mind, but Zius no longer used that tension to lash out at everyone to make himself feel better. He was better than that, and it took the support of old clone soldiers and the belief of one particular man to prove it.

The Hunter had grown alone and cold once more, but he constantly fought back his own feelings of how the world is unfair. Having a chance to change and then being swallowed by responsibility and loneliness. Life was often a confusing thing for Zius as he tried to progress through it as though things were normal and didn't reach out from the shadows to pull you into a reality where normalcy and wayward often blend and separate depending upon standard or culture. Zius never had the time or lifestyle to explore every small crevice of opportunity. He wanted his life to be different, but wishing upon what is no longer tangible or seen makes all the paranoia and ache a moot point. He had to move on, for himself, for the Liberty Concord, for everyone.

...For Calico.

His father, his friend, his mentor.

He hadn't forgotten.

Zius looked out into the distance of this planet he was now stuck on, his shuttle in disrepair. Suddenly, commotion caught his attention. He could feel the Force here, and he could also see it. The former Jedi Hunter's HUD toggled over to an increased zoom setting which allowed him to accurately make out the details of whatever he was looking at, and it seemed that said something was trouble.

And so, he descended down the hillside and charged forward like he had done the first time he met Calico Tal'Verda. Saving him from bandits and later forging the best memory he could ever cherish. The beginning of family.

"This planet is our home, and we carved it. We earned it for our people. You earned it. You're family son, one of my boys, and I can make that official if you want."

Tal'Verda after all.

[member="Zared Rinaren"] [member="Anderit Rinaren"] [member="Mediha"]

 

[Acheron354]

Zared watched as the beast began to waver and rock. It's massive body eventually collapsed on the ground, once more causing the night brother to slam into the cold dirt of the arena. As he coughed and groaned the small hint of a laugh could be heard coming from him. "About time...." He stood up and looked around, they had survived the battle and still lived to tell the tale. Though to Zared there was an entirely new battle to be fought.

He walked over to the hand of the beast and pulled his short spear from it with a loud grunt. After exhaling he walked towards Anderit, a look of obvious anger tainting his face. "I am sick of being entertainment..." He spit out another slob of blood before watching the dark lady turn to descend down into the pits of their battle. He spoke softly and looked around while doing such. "Why do we allow these outsiders to dominate us? Use us for their entertainment, like karking animals."

His words were heated but not foreign to the minds of his people. They were not loyal to the sith cause nor were they bound by any agreement. Their servitude was nothing more than a result of becoming weak and stationary in their goals, even a simple warrior like Zared could see this.

[member="Anderit Rinaren"]

 

[Mediha]

Interesting.

The thought was more sincere than Ras's mocking acknowledgement. Mediha remained in her place at the back of the dais, taking the opportunity to survey the situation without the risk of Ras paying her mind. She had missed the Nightsister raising the hood of her cloak, but understood the dramatics behind the maneuver. She was posturing, in spite of the fact that Nightbrothers were little worthy of such attention. That, too, was worth noting. The galaxy was full of males; why had Ras returned for a Nightbrother? What was the purpose of these trials, other than to remind the Nightsisters she existed? The latter reason was the smallest part of her purpose; if Ras was as she had been told, than the woman could have stayed off-world indefinitely. She had not come back to make claim to the tribe, as far as Mediha had been able to tell. Behind Mediha's stone mask, her mind spun possibilities.

On the surface, the Terentatek had been a test of some kind; a battle in the heart of the maze which indicated the most worthy of the males. But Ras had said only one would be claimed. What would she do with a pair?

Mediha blinked as the possibilities presented themselves, but she caught hold of herself and brushed them away with a mental hand. She wouldn't take both; she would force them to narrow the choice for her and take the one who proved willing to kill his fellow Brother for a chance at her poisonous bed.

The acolyte's pale eyes, framed by the thick painted black markings typical of a Nightsister, moved to the men far below, studying the hateful visage of the darker of the pair and then the still faintly triumphant expression on the other, the one who had seemed so cock-sure before the fall of the Terentatek. Her hand curled into a fist and her chin came up slightly, lending a faintly wary shadow to her expression.

[member="Zared Rinaren"] [member="Anderit Rinaren"] [member="Zius Tal'Verda"]

 

[Placeholder 0134]

"What was that?" Ras asked. With a gratingly slow stride, she descended down the massive staircase. Her lightsabers jingled against her ornate robe with each step. Anderit could not keep his eyes off of them. He'd never seen such weapons before, but he had heard of them. Blades said to have the power to carve through whatever lay in their path. There was no greater sword.

It seemed Ras took notice.

"The Lightsabers are of my own craft. Powerful, built to last. One may be yours if you take the initiative." She turned her hooded gaze up to @Mediha. She knew of the woman's machinations to a small degree. Ras was a mentalist, and the presence of other nightsisters was not usual given her current station. She'd grown suspicious of young Mediha's purpose here, and rightfully so.

"Come down girl." She commanded, condescension dripping from her words like a thick poison, "I only have need for one. You will choose the better of the two. The other will die."

Anderit tensed, but there was little he could do. Blood spilled freely from the gash in his midriff, and his legs were battered from the Terentatek's horns. There was little he could do to a full fledged Sith Lord on his own, but with Xared...

He cast his brother a look. Something was stirring within him -- around him. He had felt this before: the magic of the witches. Few among the brothers could control such power, but Anderit found he had some base connection to it.

Perhaps he could use that to his advantage. Perhaps...

[member="Zius Tal'Verda"], [member="Zared Rinaren"],

 

[Acheron354]

Zared heard the words of the Sith and simply smirked at her. If she thought either of them would betray the other she was sorely mistaken. Sith or not, Zared would not betray Anderit, and there was no one else on Dathomir that he trusted with his life.

He looked up to the night sister that was watching over them and simply turned his gaze back to the Sith lord, his battered body standing ready, even now.

Zared watched his brother, hoping for a signal or idea on how to start this. He did not know what would happen next, but he knew his days serving others was about to end.

[member="Anderit Rinaren"] [member="Mediha"]

 

[Mediha]

She knew.

Mediha obeyed the summons, descending toward Ras with no outward signs of concern but strengthening her mental shields with every step. She knew; she definitely knew. This would make Mediha's work infinitely more difficult-- not impossible, but complicated and dangerous. Not the semi-simple solution of crushing her when her guard was down that the acolyte had hoped to employ.

Why was she not killing her already? Why had she given Mediha a choice of the males, as if that would somehow disguise the fact that she knew Mediha's purpose? Was she hoping the Nightbrothers would rise up? They would do no such thing against the Nightsisters, not even an acolyte.

She's going to stab you in the back the moment you set foot below. She's distracting you, sneering and believing you can do nothing to her.

A wave-- familiar, but tainted-- washed over her and distracted her. One eyebrow twitched faintly in the start of an aborted frown. This magic was not Ras's; even tainted by the outside world, it would have been... more normal. What she felt was new, untrained or as close to it as one was likely to find here. If it was not coming from one of them, it had to be from the Nightbrothers brought to judgement before them. Brothers. With magic.

Mediha dared to take her eyes from Ras, as dismissive as she could be while maintaining her collected appearance. Which? Which was it? She studied first the injured Nightbrother and then the other, the one Ras had questioned, expecting to find one with a faint power in him that had been overlooked in the past. Subtly, she extended her own power over them, hunting for it, and had to prevent herself from inhaling sharply.

Both. Both?

Anger warred with cunning in her mind and sparked a fire in her gray gaze; it would be a convenience for her now, but the existence of magic in these slaves was not something to take lightly. Certainly, it happened, but she had believed those Nightbrothers were always located early and used to the best advantage of the Nightsisters. These two were males in their prime; to think they had existed this long without notice was troubling, but a matter for another time. One to take up when her current task was completed. More than before, she was glad she had thought to block herself from her fellow Nightsister's powers-- as best she could, in any case. If Ras brought her experience to bear, Mediha could not guarantee that she would stand against it.

She had offered the lightsabers.

The thought turned in Mediha's mind and she eased to a stop, one hip jutting out as she settled herself into a relaxed pose and returned her eyes to Ras, studying the other woman's expression. She was going to have the slaves kill Mediha for her. 'The initiative' indeed. She was going to make Mediha choose and then offer Mediha's life in exchange for a brother's. If that wasn't her plan, she was a fool for not thinking of it. It would have been clever-- if Mediha hadn't thought of it already.

Oftentimes, the young woman would have been more deferential, tried to lull the Sister-turned-Sith into a false sense of security; Ras, though, had the look in her eye that said she would believe no such attempts, and so Mediha went for something more direct, no matter how opposed to the idea she was. Her skin crawled at the thought, but her best hope was to entice the imperiled Nightbrothers into action on her behalf; with that kind of distraction, or at least that kind of aid, she would stand a better chance.

"Why have you come back to Dathomir, Sister?" she asked, more steel in her voice than was usual and a combative arrogance in her pose. For extra emphasis, she put a hint of power behind her words, allowing her Force presence to swell slightly, a type of posturing common among Sisters in disagreement. "There are men in plenty where you have been; why return to kill our best stock in exchange for one temporary partner? If this is your aim, take the one you want and leave me the other; I will not select a slaughter-pig for you."

[member="Anderit Rinaren"] [member="Zared Rinaren"]

 

[Placeholder 0134]

A good question. The girl was putting up her defenses, and Ras was non-too-pleased about that. She knew her thoughts had been seen; that her mind was not a bastion. Ras' greatest strength was taken from her. Still, all was not. These males could prove useful, and she intended to prove it. Standing up to her full height, the Sith Lady drew back her cowl, and offered [member="Mediha"] a intimidating smile. She was the picture of beauty; a result of her magics. Her face was angular and fair of skin. Long blond hair tumbled down her shoulders and hung off her back. Bright sea-green eyes narrowed in a myriad of amusement, challenge, and hubris. The girl was overstepping.

"I have wish for children. One of these two will provide me with such." She chided as she stepped toward the acolyte, "You wish to take one as your own? Have you earned that right girl? I would think one would need access to the most base of her capabilities to earn a male of such caliber as these."

Honeyed words, but not entirely untrue. Mediha was pushing the envelope with her actions. Though no sister was ever barred from taking what she wished, it was an unspoken courtesy to allow those of greater standing to choose first. Surely there were others who would want these males. Then again, perhaps this one's confidence was proof enough of her worth.

"You barely seem of age to take one of these men to bed, let alone to have children."


---

This was not going well. Anderit nudged Zared as the Sith Lady spoke. She was momentarily distracted, and they had a moment to figure things out. It would be suicide to attack without a weapon. Fortunately, the Sith Lady had left her weapons on her belt. That could be worked with.

Biting back a curse, Anderit reached out for one of the lightsabers. He called upon the raw power that had come to infuse itself within him -- that which the sisters called magic. The lightsaber shifted, and then it flew into Anderit's hands.

Ras was none the wiser.

[member="Zius Tal'Verda"], [member="Zared Rinaren"]

 

[Mediha]

Illusion, Mediha thought snidely, undaunted by the woman's appearance. She had no need to use magic on her appearance; she had youth and beauty in plenty without the need to fake it.

She stood firm while Ras took an intimidating step toward her. Direct confrontation was not the way to go, but Mediha had seen her male distractions gain the weapons from Ras. They would help her. Or watch her die and take advantage of the situation. Around them, the Nightbrothers not involved stood back; they did not participate in disputes between the Sisters. Worthless breeders. Would the needs of the two drive them to do what she needed them to do, if only for their own benefit?

Winged Goddess, do not let them watch her kill me first.

"My reasons do not concern you, Sister." Tendrils of her magic snaked out low, giving a small berth around Ras so as not to alert her to their presence until the trap was ready, but gradually encircling her while Mediha held the older woman's gaze, her previously guarded eyes blazing with challenge and confidence. She wanted, badly, to call her out on behalf of the Clan Leader, but knew better; her role here must be seen as being done of her own accord. She could not let on that it was ordained from a higher level. With her spell in place, Mediha twisted her hand and snapped the trap shut, bands of shadow attempting to close around the Sith, each strip laced with a dream spell that should impede the woman's awareness of this reality. It would not hold her or fool her for long, not when done so quickly, but it might be long enough-- or enough to keep her focus on Mediha if the breeders would have the courage to kill one of the Sisters, even one out of favor with the Clan Leader.

[member="Anderit Rinaren"] [member="Zared Rinaren"]

 

[Acheron354]

Zared stood and listened to the exchange of the two women, both of them witches in their own right. At least one of them had no interest in slaughtering both of the brothers. As Zared watched the exchange he felt the room grow somewhat more base....more cold. Words and thoughts that were foreign to his mind washed over him.

Do not trust them...they will betray you....He will betray you. The words were not forceful, but their will was imposing on the Nightbrother, almost commanding him. He felt mistrust building up inside of him. He knew he had to kill Anderit and the other witch, he had to protect the sister. Zared felt Anderit tap him and when his brother held his hand out to take the witch's weapon, he raised his spear. Preparing to cut the man's hand clean off.

No.

As if awakening himself from a dream that he had been placed in Zared snapped out of his trance. More that he had broken the chains that her magic tried to imprison him with. When Zared's thoughts became his own he saw what was in his brother's hand and immediately spun his short spear, reversing it's grip in his hand. The Nightbrother wasted no time, while her back was still to them he aimed his spear for the woman's back, hoping to claim two prizes. The lightsaber of a Sith, and the matching corpse.

[member="Mediha"]
[member="Anderit Rinaren"]

 

[Placeholder 0134]

This weapon was his own now. Anderit could not help but admire the weight. Surely it would increase once the blade came to life. Either way, it was the perfect tool for the task that lay ahead. Without a word, the warrior stepped forward. The Nightsister was distracted by the one she perceived her lesser to take note of the brothers' movements until it was too late. The lightsaber hissed as it came to life, drilling a hole through her midriff.

In retaliatory agony she raised a hand at Anderit, only to find [member="Zared Rinaren"]'s spear in her throat. Whatever curses she was preparing to say were drowned out by a quiet gurgling noise. She collapsed at the foot of the stairs in a pool of her own blood.

"Neither of us will die." He stated firmly as he stared up at [member="Mediha"]. "I won't allow it."

 

[Qyren Leret]

Mediha surveyed the mouthy giant of a Nightbrother as dispassionately as she had viewed the corpse. The trap around Ras's still form dissipated, allowing Mediha to reabsorb her energies. Though her head was tilted most of the way back just to meet Anderit's gaze, she was undaunted, confident in her own ability to handle the situation. Ras had been overconfident and foolish; Mediha was neither. She would not underestimate these slaves as the former Sister did.

"You have done the clan a service." She turned her head, all the while keeping her eyes on the brothers. "Kar'in," she called clearly. "Pass their names on to the Clan Leader. She will decide what they will receive." And the Sisters would receive their proper due from their power. She could wish that they were not so arrogant in the face of those who ruled them, but Mediha had heard stories of those so ignorant of their place. Time and time again, they wound up exiled or dead for the Sisters' better purpose. She had to assume this case would be no different. They would likely receive some acknowledgement also; they had aided her against the real threat after all.

The lightsabers now borne in the hands of the Nightbrothers were what disturbed her. They could not be allowed to keep them, but that was a decision for the Clan Leader to pass down. Mediha did not have the weight to deal with this situation, and she believed that if she tried she might well push the boundaries of the currently bloodlust driven Nightbrothers past their endurance.

She finally dropped her gaze back to the body. A shame she couldn't have been put to better use. "Have someone bundle this up for transport. I will contact the Clan and have someone retrieve it for a proper disposal. See to the injuries of your Brothers." She identified each wound on Anderit's and his brother with a brief sweep of her magick. None were life threatening yet.

[member="Anderit Rinaren"] [member="Zared Rinaren"]

 

[Acheron354]

Zared's wounds were slightly less extensive than that of his brother. Now free from the presence of the Sith he bent down, taking the second of her lightsabers. Igniting the Crimson red blade he admired the elegance of the weapon before turning away from his brother to give it a soft swing.

"Not bad..." After deactivating the blade and attaching it to the sash above his loin cloth the Nightbrother bent down over the Sith. He pulled his weapon from the throat of the Sith. After taking the weapon he spit over her corpse, sealing his victory.

Zared stood and looked to Anderit, a somewhat confirming look on his face. He exhaled before smirking softly. "Easy kill."

[member="Qyren Leret"]
[member="Anderit Rinaren"]

 

[Placeholder 0134]

Their trophies were not as gruesome as he would have expected. His brother's had a single blade, while his own had two. It functioned more like his war glaive than it did a traditional sword -- a weapon worthy of his skill. He deactivated the blade, hooked it to his belt, and locked eyes with [member="Mediha"]. Gods knew what she was planning. He was expecting some kind of backlash for the death of a fellow Nightsister. The result was something else entirely.

She approved. Odd though it was, Anderit would not question it. He simply bowed his head in deference, and turned to face his brother. "We'll speak with the Clan Mother. I'm sure she'll find some use for us." He reached over to clap a hand on Zared's shoulder. The future was unpredictable, and the possibility of failure lingered in the shadows like a waiting predator. So long as they fought together, it would not catch them unaware.

[member="Zared Rinaren"]

 

[Mediha]

The other brother was no longer bothering to keep his voice down, and Mediha fought back a faint sense of alarm, one she hid behind her distant facade. These were the outliers; those Nightbrothers who, at some point, had begun to question their place. They were dangerous. It had worked out in her favor this time, but she would not tempt fate a second time. The Clan Leader would surely see them for what they were and take care of it as she saw best before Mediha was forced to do something to mitigate the trouble they would cause.

Surely.

With a last hooded look at the pair, Mediha left them to return to her own home. She had spent more than enough time with Nightbrothers for the foreseeable future.

[member="Zared Rinaren"] [member="Anderit Rinaren"]