Dead On Arrival

[Sage Bane]

LOCATION: Remote canyon on Korriban

Korriban, the ancestral home of the Sith, an Outer Rim world now integrated into a terrifying kingdom of warlords from Unknown Space, colloquially known as The Primeval. Sith Lord, Sage Bane, had flown a small fighter down from his Subjugator-Class Assault Corvette to a remote canyon that was said to have contained a mass grave site housing the bodies of Sith traitors. The newly-minted Hand of the Dark Lord, exited his craft, removed his helmet and closed his eyes, soaking in the sacred atmosphere of the planet. Foreign energies echoed back to him, almost like time itself was trying to make contact. The dark side of the Force flowed freely through the mountains and danced across the dry riverbeds of this desolate place, a place where Sith culture thrived and fell. Sage indulged himself in a moment of meditation on the sacred planet, rejuvenating his body with the dark side. It was time for the Sith to rise.

His brown eyes spanned around the amber dirt of the canyon. Sage was looking for someone. A witch of the Primeval by the name of [member="Perla Pirjo"]. An arrangement had been made for her to train the young Hand. He would learn among other abilities, the Chant of Resurrection. In turn, Sage would impart what ever he knew that would be useful to the witch.

From what he had heard, the woman was as fierce a warrior as they come. He found it hard to believe, but it was even said that she rode into battle on a bull rancor. This was no doubt an embellishment he imagined, although it was admittedly a sight he would like to see today.

Don't dissapoint me, Witch.

 

[Armand Temi]

As Perla approached, clad in a flowing black dress and tan leather sandals, she whispered to the wind, calling it to move through the valley and whistle madly into the Korriban canyon. A sudden strong breeze would ruffle Sage Bane's hair, not threatening to topple him over, but enough for him to know that the atmosphere around him was changing.

This type of landscape was familiar to the spellweaver. She had grown up in Dathomir canyons, climbing the red rocks and hunting in the blistering heat with only a canteen of water. She was a Daughter of Allya - albeit a fallen one - from the Great Canyon Clan, so if she closed her eyes, she could almost picture that she was back on her home planet. Knight Bane would begin to feel her presence, the witch's darkside energy reaching out in an inky tendril to meet his. Then as she walked slowly towards him, the wind picked up, blowing through her raven-black hair and causing sand to swirl around her athletic figure. Shutting her eyelids, Perla could feel the spirits of the dead, heavy upon her, but she didn't stumble or lose her focus as she stepped up to Sage Bane. Her dark brown eyes snapped open and appeared nearly all black now with residual Nightsister magic. She appraised him wordlessly.

A witch needed a dramatic entrance after all.

[member="Sage Bane"]

 

[Sage Bane]

The canyon began to brim with the dark side of the Force and his hair and cloak billowed out from the rush of dark energy. The witch had arrived and had let him know it. The dual power of Nightsister sorcery and Sith magic soon met and mingled, and Sage closed his eyes to fully experience the thrum of two dark side powerhouses creating a well of it from which to draw for their training. The wind picked up, blowing amber dust through the air, and Sage had to shield his eyes from the sharp flecks of it. The witch approached, her eyes as dark as coal, like a nighthag, her hair undulating like black seaweed fanning out around her.

Well it wasn't a bull rancor, but it was impressive nonetheless.

"Spellweaver Pirjo," said Sage, giving the Witch a cordial bow, his tenor unwavering. "I am Sage Bane, a Hand of the Dark Lord of the Sith."

"I am here to learn the dark craft of raising the dead and I was told you know this skill."

The very canyon howled as if the dead were eavesdropping and knew their graves were about to be desecrated by the witch and her Sith student.

[member="Perla Pirjo"]

 

[Armand Temi]

Hand of the Dark Lord.

While Perla wasn’t completely familiar with the One Sith leadership structure, she was savvy enough to realize that this was a higher ranking position. Guess Sith alchemy isn’t enough these days, she mused. And of course ancient Nightsister magic was extremely powerful. With the mix of the Dark side of the Force and these old and reliable Paecian spells, Knight Bane would be an extremely formidable foe.

She nodded at him and said, “The Chant of Resurrection is difficult to master. It may require us both to get a little dirty here.” She motioned to the gravesite with her hands which were extremely pale, blue-veined and looked strong enough to strangle a Gen’Dai. Although the spellweaver realized that to become such a powerful Sith Lord as he was, he would have had to endure fantastical trials of stamina, endurance and pain. It seemed silly to think that he couldn’t handle a little… well, dismemberment. But she had to warn him just the same.

“Did you bring the shovels I asked you to?”

Her request to him ahead of time was to bring along two sharp shovels. The exercise in the hot sun would do both of them good, thought Perla, and although he would probably rather move the earth using the Force, the hands-on labor would be part of the ritual.

She smiled wickedly. “I want you to start digging. Especially where you feel your Sith ancestry is the strongest.”

[member="Sage Bane"]

 

[Sage Bane]

Oh right, the shovels. He had left them on his fighter. Sage walked back and retrieved the two shovels from the vessel's small cargo hold. As he returned, the Sith Knight's face might have been smiling, but his eyes were not. Holding out the two shovels, one in each hand, he gave the witch a stern warning.

"I seriously hope we are not going to be unearthing the corpses of dead Sith Lords, Spellweaver Pirjo. We are not members of the Cult of Exar Kun, and there are some very nasty spirits that can be released this way."

In fact, Sage had just chased down and arrested a loony cult leader who had been trying to resurrect the Cult of Exar Kun. For his plans to unleash the spirits of powerful dark sided ancients, Lorth Lithal had been considered a traitor to the Sith. Sage had no doubt, his body was currently lying in a Sith laboratory somewhere on Coruscant, being poked and prodded with extreme prejudice. Sith Alchemists loved to experiential on fellow Force users.

"Before I start digging, I need your word that we are not desecrating the graves of ancient Sith Lords. To be branded a traitor a week into my new position would be embarrassing to say the least."

Meanwhile, the sun had begun to bake Sage. Beads of sweat formed on his brow and his hair became lank and slick. He dropped the shovels on the ground between them and awaited her response.

[member="Perla Pirjo"]

 

[Armand Temi]

Perla gave the Sith Knight a throaty laugh and then coughed as if she had been smoking too many death sticks. “One minute," she said, holding up a finger and trying to catch her breath. She held her taut stomach with one hand until the choking laughter subsided and finally composed herself.

“Sorry, truly I am,” she said to Bane. “But of course we will be digging up corpses! You don’t expect to just chant a few words and they all come stumbling out like zombies in a holomovie, do you?”

She strode up to him and grabbed both of the shovels from off the ground. “I will help you,” she said. “But we need a corpse or two in order to do this right. I especially need you to concentrate now and find the Sith you are the most connected to. Perhaps you have something in common with him. Perhaps this would have been a lover in another life. Any type of bond will work.”

She thrust one of the shovels at him.

“Dig,” she commanded in a growl.

[member="Sage Bane"]

 

[Sage Bane]

With narrowed eyes, Sage snatched the shovel out of the witch's hands and growled back.

"I know we're digging up corpses, pateesa. I get that. Do you take me for a fool, Witch?" He raised an eyebrow in a subtle challenge, and small threads of lightning coursed through his fingertips where they gripped the shovel.

"All I am trying to say is that these bags of bones better be fething apprentices."

He let out an equine snort and then took a deep breath, closing his eyes. The Sith Knight's power thickened, flowing through the air, turning and bending. It coursed like a raging river over the graves. Gripping the shovel, he began to walk slowly towards a grave that seemed to have something special about it. It shimmered in ways the others didn't. Perhaps this was the connection of which Perla Pirjo spoke.

He hefted the edge of the shovel into the amber dirt and with a grunt, began to dig, stopping only to wipe the sweat off his brow.

[member="Perla Pirjo"]

 

[Armand Temi]

"There you go, boy," Perla said, although she was most likely the same age as the Sith Knight. But he did have a youthfulness about him. Especially for one so powerful like the Hand.

"Here let me show you how it's done," she said and then began thrusting her shovel in the dirt like some expert gravedigger. Everything to the spellweaver was a challenge, even down to the most menial of tasks. As she dug, she appraised him with dark predatory eyes as if she was sizing up a meal. But Perla soon went back to her digging, having noticed the lightning which emanated from his hands earlier. The Dathomir exile may have known how to raise the dead, but she still hadn't mastered any elemental spells. Conjuring storms was something she was hoping to learn in turn from Sage Bane. She both feared and admired that literal spark that came from his fingertips.

Suddenly her shovel hit something hard. Like a dark sprite, Perla jumped right into the hole she had dug and began wiping off away the dirt, even using the hem of her dress to do so. She peered back up at the Sith Lord.

"Don't just stand there! Come down and help me!" she hissed.

But she was basically asking him to climb down into a deep grave, the walls of which were covered in roots and grubs and basically shovel with their hands until they could find the coffin opening. If haughty Sith Lords wanted to animate the dead, they would need to get down and dirty with a witch.

[member="Sage Bane"]

 

[Sage Bane]

Sage's eyes flashed red as she called him "boy," and he whipped up his head to face her with an angry glare. Flashing the witch a nasty smirk, he ignored her disrespectful tone and plunged his shovel back into the earth. Knee deep in grave dirt, Sage was hardly in a place to nitpick about formalities. Although he would have like to Force choke the sass right out of her, she was his teacher, and he her student. He would dig in silence for now.

Soon Sage heard the witch's high pitched voice calling to him from the large hole she was now frolicking around in. Irritated and dripping with sweat, he flung his shovel down and scrambled down into the hole with her. Don't you dare try to bury me alive, you infernal creature. With a sigh he crawled in the dirt next to her began to dig, clawing at the mounds of dirt with his bare hands. Once the coffin was completely uncovered, Sage stopped, and raised a questioning gaze to Perla.

The obvious next step was to open it, but he didn't want to presume. It was a new and unfamiliar spell after all.

[member="Perla Pirjo"]

 

[Armand Temi]

Perla made a clucking noise with her tongue, and guided Sage Bane with her hands to stand or sit near the coffin, so neither of them would be prevent it from opening. Even though there was very little room, she stood next to the wooden box, but the latch was locked, presumably to deter grave robbers like themselves.

With a burst of Force energy she exploded the wood around the latch and the coffin could now be opened.

"Ready?" she asked.

Without waiting for an answer, Perla opened the casket with her muscular arms, and the lid went flying up, banging against the side of the hole they had dug.

The smell was intensely foul, enough that even the witch, grabbed the hem of her dress and stuffed it against her nose and mouth. "Achhgggh," she said. Unfortunately that odor would linger with her for days after this ritual was performed. She would probably have to burn the dress when they were done.

"In the name of the Core, that smells awful," Perla complained. "But it's a fresh corpse. Good, this will work just nicely."

Sage Bane would see that the corpse had most likely been dead for no more than two to three weeks. It was difficult to tell if this was a human, humanoid or even what sex the cadaver had been. It was still in the process of decomposing and maggots were actively feasting upon the dissolving flesh. Clumps of hair hung on the half decayed face like weeds sprouting up from a skull.

"You are going to make a talisman from parts of this body," the spellweaver stated plainly. "You may want to put on gloves if you have them."

[member="Sage Bane"]

 

[Sage Bane]

The witch clucked at him as if he were a stubborn nerf that wouldn't obey its master. Biting his tongue, he headed in the direction she bade him to. Then she opened the coffin.

The smell of the body's decomposition was abhorrent, of course, and it made the Sith Knight groan with disgust. Sage was no stranger to battlefield gore and was known for relishing in it, licking the blood off his own skin in the throes of blood lust. However, this smell was so abysmally bad that the young Hand of the Dark Lord covered his nose and mouth with his dirty shirt collar. Couldn't they have just killed a hapless slave and then resurrected that corpse? Why did it have to be this piece of rot?

Perla instructed him that he was about to make a talisman out of maggoty body parts. Sage had his flight gloves with him, but they were all the way back on his fighter. Plus, they were rather nice flight gloves, made of Corellian leather. Impatiently, he let out a long, dramatic sigh and shook his head.

"No gloves. Let's just get to it, Witch."

[member="Perla Pirjo"]

 

[Armand Temi]

"You are the one who will get to it," Perla sneered. "You will be making a Talisman of Resurrection," she explained to him patiently as though instructing him on how to make a macramé plant holder in an arts and crafts class. "This will help enhance the spell that we will chant. We will do this over and over, remaking the Talisman, until you no longer need it and the incantation works on its own."

She pointed at the body. "Make your Talisman," she said not giving him any clear instruction on how to do this.

Little did he know that it didn't really matter which parts of the body he made it out of. Only that he made it with his own hands and imbued it with his magic afterwards. Bones, teeth and hair worked quite nicely. But she would show him how to do that eventually.

Still, it would be interesting to see if the Sith Knight used more viscera than bone.

[member="Sage Bane"]

 

[Sage Bane]

Sage cocked his head at the decomposed corpse. Perla had instructed him to make a Talisman, but had not given him detailed instructions. Other than body parts, was he supposed to use hair? Teeth? Bones? Organs? He raised his gaze to her, but she only blinked at him as if he were a wall-eyed cow, so he dropped it to study the corpse again.

He knelt down and straddled the corpse, grimacing from the malodorous rot of the thing. Sithspit, it stunk. And here he was sitting astride it like its long lost lover. He sighed and then squeezed his hand into an opening in the flesh. His fingers sunk right in with a squelch. He grabbed a rib bone and pulled, snapping it off. Slowly, he began to take various pieces from the body. Here, a tooth, there some hair. He whipped his hand out to the side, freeing it from some grubby maggots that were lodged in between his fingers. Blech! Sage was no stranger to horror, especially as an illusionist, but even he found himself turning his face to the side and dry heaving for a minute.

Finally, Sage finished off the talisman with some random bits of completely unrecognizable gizzards, and tied it all up with strands of wiry hair. It was a horrible little thing, but it would do the job. Or so he hoped. Turning to the witch, he stuck out his arm, showing her his creation, like a youngling at show and tell. A few flies landed on his talisman and he shooed them away testily.

"Well?" he demanded. "Is this what the spell requires?"

[member="Perla Pirjo"]

 

[Armand Temi]

Even Perla grimaced at Sage Bane's picking apart the corpse as those it were a cooked nuna on a festive table. She gave him an amused grin all the way, tapping her hand on the side of the coffin as she waited for him to assemble the Talisman.

"Good, good," she muttered, watching him deftly put the shamanistic item together. "Oh careful there," she commented as he began to hurl up the contents of his lunch. But he rose just in time and finished the vile package.

When the Sith Knight held it up, Perla took it from him and inspected it. She fastened a few of the hair knots and turned it over in her hands. Then she handed it back to him and wiped her hands on her dress. She nodded.

"Hold the Talisman and inbue it with your dark energy while you repeat after me," Perla said.

"Choono slalem denni tay'lori olee-ay. Lucheno vadem klavlane. Blenay vedi nalem koreem. Blenay vedi nalem koreem. Villos susko kono lamal! Vlemon tagoo!"

It most certainly was a mouthful.

[member="Sage Bane"]

 

[Sage Bane]

Dirty, sweaty, and covered in gooey rot, Sage arose from his embarrassing position over the dead body, wiping his hands on his pants. He'd have to burn those later. He watched Perla inspect his handiwork and felt a flash of pride when she handed it back to him. Not bad for his first try.

He held the talisman in both hands and extended his arms. Focusing on the grisly little fetish, he called upon the dark side of the Force, and like an obedient lover it came to him quickly, eager to do his bidding. His eyes fluttered closed as he let the Force flow down through his arms and hands, guiding it into the talisman. When he was certain that the Force and the fetish were one, he began to repeat Perla's chant.

"Choono slalem denni tay'lori olee-ay. Lucheno vadem klavlane. Blenay vedi nalem koreem. Blenay vedi nalem koreem. Villos susko kono lamal! Vlemon tagoo!"

The witch had a strange accent, so he wasn't sure if he got every pronunciation correct. As he said the words, he felt an ancient and unfamiliar magic brimming around the talisman. It felt like a psychic dirge humming in the ether, groaning and straining for release. Something was happening. His eyes snapped open to see if the spell was successful.

[member="Perla Pirjo"]

 

[Armand Temi]

The Force was strong in Knight Bane. That was undeniable. The Dathomir native could feel his power like a dark shroud upon her, not unwanted or distressing. But just there the same.
However, only a coyote howled through the canyon and a few unearthly noises followed. An eerie wind rushed down into the grave n which they sat. But the corpse didn’t rise. In fact it didn’t even move its little finger.

Perla coughed out another sputtering laugh and said, “If only it were that easy.”

“You Sith drink immortality as though it were a cheap wine,” the spellweaver continued in a mocking tone. “Do you expect these souls who have not tasted that sweet nectar to just come running at your beck and call?”

With surprising strength she snatched the fetish out of his hands and threw it on the ground. Perla Pirjo then spat on the talisman.
“These are the souls of the dead, boy!” she bellowed.

“You will make another fetish and another and another! Until there is nothing left of this body to hold onto but dirt and maggots!”

[member="Sage Bane"]

 

[Sage Bane]

Whoa, angry witch alert. Sage blinked his honey-brown eyes at the enraged Spellweaver. What had he done wrong? Instructions had been followed to the letter. The totem was built with as much precision as possible. The Dark Side flowed through him and imbued the totem with its power. He felt it! Sage had taken to the magical arts like a duck to water, and he wasn't used to failure. Nor being yelled at by an angry witch!

"Calm down, Witch," said the young Hand, scratching his head and then realizing with a frown that his hand was covered with rot. He cast a gloomy look at the corpse, lying there like an old friend, holes rutted in its grey body cavity. He sighed and took a knee beside the cadaver, digging into it again and repeating the process. As he reluctantly picked out various decomposed organs and bones, he spoke to her, his tone dripping with displeasure.

"Tell me why it didn't work. Is the body not fresh enough? Shall we kill you and use yours instead?"

[member="Perla Pirjo"]