Private Family Bonding: Galahad

[The Battalion]

The Battalion paused at Galahad Io 's question

"Don't get me wrong. Your mother is Hot. No argument." The Battalion began. "But I've seduced Hot before. What made me marry her was her ability to look past what would have repulsed anyone else, such as me at my most inhuman-looking and monsterous, and still unhesitatingly want them at her side, without reservation or complaint. I suppose she had plenty of practice, living with that which was unnatural for so long. The fact she was also full of such unwavering faith in her cause was catnip. Then there was the fact she was ambitious enough to create a race of intelligent killer while giving caution the middle finger. Her passion. Her beauty, while not an...insignificant part of the equation...was far from the top of the list."

The Battalion listened to his explanation of a pleasant memory.

"You might find this silly, Galahad..." The Battalion confessed. "But for me...one of...our most pleasant memories...was when we went to rescue you. Granted, the trip ended...iffy, but it's still the first time in years I genuinely rescued someone."

 

[Dev Ossian]

“So she trusts you, and you trust her.” Yet Galahad didn’t seem fully satisfied with her response. But perhaps he was pursuing a phantom, an ideal love that didn’t—and couldn’t—truly exist outside of poetry, music, and novels. He had no other means of experiencing it himself.

Elaine’s next words gave him pause. “What has stopped you from rescuing others?” he asked. The Cult may have required the taking of lives as part of their rituals, but to his knowledge there was nothing in the Cult’s dogma that forbade saving lives. "Or is it simply because you haven't cared enough about someone vulnerable, someone who would actually need saving, in a very long time?"

The Battalion​

 

[The Battalion]

"Its more than trust." The Battalion explained. "It's...belonging..."

At his next question, The Battalion gave a small smile.

"I used to rescue others. When I was still human. When you get forcibly turned into a Cultist, it's like your brain is in fire, at first. The Unholy Spirit scours away a lot except that which is useful. Altruism, curiously, is one of the things that tends to get preserved--after all if we had no altruism in us, we would not want to uplift others with the Dark Side. But is a Cultist naturally inclined to save, say, someone from a burning building? Not normally. The Brain Demon wouldn't actually stop me from doing it, though. If we did however, we would happily point out it was the strength of the Dark Side which saved them. There is often a purpose to us choosing who we 'save' outside the House."

The Battalion paused thoughtfully a moment.

"Our interactions with the House and its Citizens are already vastly different than how we normally interact with those outside the Cult. To be honest, we weren't prepared for actually being part of a culture...to walk so... openly... amongst you...it's an experience that rattled even the oldest Cultist. It even messed with Amy at times, though she tries to hide it."

She smiled a bit again.

"But in short... you're somewhat right...it HAS been a long time." The Battalion admitted. "But I don't mind it. We volunteered to rescue you because we wanted to. That's enough for us."

She tried not to think about how Galahad had inadvertently baptized himself in a Cult stronghold. Or what it meant. Even she didn't know.

The ship eventually came out of hyperspace and The Battalion took over the controls to land on the planet, opening the hatch to reveal a red, dead (redemption), world of sands and rocky spires. She paused, feeling a familiar Dark Side Presence, and landed very close to it.

Her flesh shuddered, metabolizing the Dark Side in the air as she went ahead of him.

"You can come out now!" she called out.

A Brain Demon Cultist uncloaked, holding the hand of a familiar Model 1 with a black bandanna around his skull dramatically flapping in the wind. The Cultist was a curvy, orange skinned Twi'lek woman in the same kind of white catsuit every Cultist wore.

The Battalion rolled her eyes. It was The Arena, meaning the Model 1 next to her was Isacc, aka the only one of the Model 1's to ever take a lover. Every other in his line was naturally celibate, War their preferred mistress.

Not many in the Cult teased her about that, having a Droid Boyfriend. Mainly because The Arena specialized in long term curses.

"Jennifer." The Battalion noted politely.

"Elaine." The Arena replied back just as politely.

"Hey, Step Mom!" Isacc called out trollishly. "Are you here to cut off their limbs?"

"Am I!" The Battalion replied back playfully, liking his attitude. "So what brings you two to Dathomir?"

"We were in the neighborhood when we got a heads up from Xiphos that you were coming here to hunt for someone. We just got done with our little weekend getaway and volunteered to help on Dathomir with your search.

"It's been approximately 72.58 hours since I last brutally executed someone. Starting to feel a bit of a dry spell!" Isacc mentioned, hefting one of House Io's deadliest rifles.

"Dreamboat here just cannot wait to get to know the locals!" The Arena said enthusiastically.

"With you as my cultural liaison, of course, Sherbet." Isacc added suavely, pulling her close. The Arena nuzzled his face with her nose.

"I wanted to start at the place where the Nightbrother attacked me..." The Battalion said, turning to Galahad Io .

"Stick close to me. Dathomir is incredibly dangerous."

"Soooo... brought one of the Organics with ya, huh?" Isacc said walking up to Galahad.

"Pleased to meet you! I'm among the oldest! Been with Mom since Pzob. Before Generis!"

 

[Dev Ossian]

“Perhaps you should save more people, if you enjoy it so much,” Galahad remarked rather cryptically. He elected not to comment on the Cult’s growing influence within the House. It was an obvious point of discomfort for him.

After the ship landed on Dathomir, they were greeted by Issac and the Arena, aka Jennifer, aka… Sherbet. The pair would be accompanying them. Galahad couldn’t say he was thrilled about it, but at least it meant he was less likely to have to fight.

He nodded at Elaine, then turned to Issac. The older Neutralizer seemed to regard Galahad with some curiosity. “Hello,” he greeted. “I am Galahad Io, Chaplain Neutralizer. Before we begin, I should mention that I am a pacifist. I avoid combat whenever possible, but I will not attempt to stop you from fighting, nor am I completely defenseless—”

<<LANCELOT!>>

Abruptly Galahad froze, his brow furrowing and his lips parting in confusion. The technopathic cry of anguish had come from Percival, half a galaxy away. But far more overwhelming was the gaping void where Lance had once been. Galahad clutched his head in shock as he felt his brother cease to exist.

The Battalion​

 

[The Battalion]

"A Pacifist Nuetralizer? You pulling my Droid leg, Little Brother? How the hell does that--gaaahhgghhh!"

Both fell to the ground registering the technopathic scream of Percival Io .

"Dreamboat!" The Arena exclaimed, rushing over to him.

The Battalion immediately went over to Galahad Io .

"Galahad?!" The Battalion said in a moment of undisguised worry. "Galahad what--"

The Battalion clutched her head as she felt Xiphos's cry of anguish.

"Gahhhhh!!!" she cried out, rapidly shifting between her form and three belonging to others inside of her before settling back to her own.

"What is it, Elaine?" The Arena asked, helping Isacc up.

"Someone just shot one of Galahad's brothers..." The Battalion hissed. "It was Lancelot..."

A look of wicked fury passed over her face. Her beloved was in pain. Her stepson was in pain. And she wanted to torture and kill whoever was responsible.

The Battalion didn't dare touch Galahad.

"I know you aren't ok. But can you walk? Can you think clearly, still?" she asked quietly, letting him answer at his own pace.

 

[Dev Ossian]

Given his relative youth compared to other Neutralizers, Galahad had been a stranger to grief up until now. He didn't know how to process the death of his brother, could barely comprehend what destruction meant. But Percival understood it all too well. The depths of his mourning drove Galahad to his knees, trembling with the echo of his twin's suffering.

Twins, yes. They were triplets no longer.

"I know you aren't ok. But can you walk? Can you think clearly, still?"

Elaine's words roused Galahad from his stupor. He looked up at her, his expression curiously blank. He was too overwhelmed to react, but soon his programming began to kick in. Self-preservation. He was in a dangerous environment. He had to put it out of his mind for now, think about it later.

"I am... still functioning," he replied, rising to his feet. With a whispered technopathic apology, he blocked his link with Percival, leaving his brother alone in his agony. "I am at your disposal, Consort. We must finish our mission."

The Battalion​

 

[The Battalion]

The Battalion nodded, trying not to wince at the pain on her stepson's face and after a few minutes, Isacc had stabilized his database enough to begin traveling with them all.

The Battalion stuck close, torn at what she should do. On the one hand, her own beliefs said not to coddle Galahad Io , to try and let him draw strength emotionally from the raw hatred he would feel for whoever had killed his brother.

But her feelings said different.

Her feelings, vestigial, ugly feelings said they needed to stop right now and let him process this. Needed to comfort him.

How? She didn't know how, that was the problem.

The Battalion and The Arena did much of the heavy lifting, The Arena Force Draining a Nydak that wandered too close, while The Battalion Force Crushed a few Bane Back Spiders. Since virtually everything on this fethed up planet wanted you dead, the general policy was kill first, ask questions never. Isacc got in on the "fun" also, turning a few Nightbrother raiders armed with Energy Bows into mush with his Magnetic Disruptor. The Arena fed on their suffering as they were liquified by the Disruptor.

Finally, the Battalion stopped at the exact spot in the desert where she had fought her assassin. The hole where her own acidic viscera had spilled through was still there, the sand at its edges having vitrified.

"What happened here?" The Arena asked.

"I'd rather not say. It's embarrassing." The Battalion answered, though she spotted a cave structure in the distance. Only about 70 meters away.

"The guy who tried to kill me took off in that direction..." The Battalion noted crisply, still privately distressing over how to help Galahad.

Just then The Battalion was reached through her Force Bond to Xiphos.

Master, you are in grave danger. The Countess just contacted me. Men with strange lanterns stole almost all the witches in her body!

The Battalion's eyes widened.

Lanterns, My Love?

Yes! Lanterns! I know, I know, it's fethin' crazy, but she swears that's how it went down!

Not as crazy as you might think. The thieves, were they dressed up real nice, wearing top hats?

Yeah. You know 'em?!

Unfortunately, yes. What are you going to do?

Mother has her own designs on them. Dear, who ARE they?

The most honorable society of Corellian Witch Smiters. Pretentious bunch of bastards, but those lanterns are incredibly dangerous.

Make them suffer if they come after you.

I always do. Kisses!

The Battalion turned to the others.

"Arena, you'll never guess who Arianna ran into."

"Who?" The Arena asked.

"The fething Corellian Witch Smiters. Stole damn near every witch in her."

"I thought we killed all those pricks during The Gulag Virus." The Arena snorted.

"We did. I think someone reformed them." The Battalion replied. Her flesh shuddered horrifically, warping and melting into the form of The Assembly.

"It takes vast amounts of directed electricity to overload their lanterns." The Assembly said. "But cooking them alive will be pure pleasure.

"Are we gonna cut off their limbs?" Isacc asked in an excited, childlike whisper of pure glee.

"Oh, yes. But we're not gonna stop at the limbs. That's too good for these bastards." The Assembly answered in an equally gleeful manner. "We just have to find that Zabrak first..."

The Assembly continued walking to the cave structure...

 

[Dev Ossian]

Galahad tried to avoid combat altogether, hanging back behind the others while they fought. It was bloody and gruesome, their manner of killing—but he avoided saying anything or showing any reaction. He knew it was self-defense, that the people they were slaughtering were seeking to destroy them. But he couldn’t quite justify it to himself.

How did I end up this way? he asked himself. Why am I so very different from the rest of my kind?

According to Xiphos, it was a simple programming fluke that had made Galahad into a pacifist. Despite feeling like he didn’t belong, he wouldn’t have accepted a simple fix. He liked being who he was, even though it caused him pain. It was like having your eyes opened. The light sometimes hurt, but you would miss the colors if you went back to being blind.

Was the whole House blind in his eyes, then?

He came out of his thoughts just in time to overhear the Assembly talking about the pure pleasure of cooking their enemies alive. Isacc agreed gleefully, but Galahad couldn’t help but wince. Wordlessly, he followed the Assembly into the cave, gnawing at the edges of where Lance had once been.

The Battalion​

 

[The Battalion]

The Assembly and the Arena kept ahead of the others, Isacc sticking by his little brother.

You know, Little Bro... Isacc mused in technopathy via his built in Droid Source Ripper (It was the Model 1's that had discovered their ability to mimic telepathy via using their rippers to benignly access their brother's systems to speak.) The thing me and the others of my Model always found the most messed up about the relationship between Mother and Amy is that in actuality, we never 'met' the real Amy. The real Amy had been dead for years, devoured by a remnant of Darth Phyre. Or perhaps infested by a Syd Celsius that briefly reverted to Darth Phyre...we never learned the full story, despite 'extensive' investigation. We may never learn it.

Isacc's systems scanned the caves they had entered...then oggled his girlfriend's backside for a second.

Heh Isacc chuckled mentally in private as he resumed his conversation.

Anyway...the thing is...Phyre did 'too' good a Job. To the extent that I think that whatever shreds of the original Amy bled into Phyre's Personality and vice versa, muddying the waters, so to speak. Or perhaps after roleplaying as Amy for so long, it's become nearly impossible to break character. Especially when you're as insane as Phyre. She may 'never' have been the actual Amy...but I don't think she's purely Phyre. She's a copy of a copy. A walking talking virus of the mind.

Isacc stole a glance at The Arena's backside again, He and the others began to notice markings on the cave. Ancient Stuff. Glyphs.

Makes me think of that whole "Star Destroyer of Darth Thezan" philosophy problem pretentious University Teachers in the subject use to convince their students they're getting their money's worth. Like if you replace every part of Darth Thezan's Star Destroyer, slowly, over time, until every part of The Star Destroyer has been replaced, is it still the Star Destroyer of Darth Thezan? Some crap like that. I am of the opinion it is not. I suspect, however, that Mother would be of the opinion it 'is'.

The Arena signalled the others to stop.

"What is it, Sherbet?" Isacc asked in a whisper.

The Arena saw a man in a fine dress suit with a top hat, holding a strange, ornate lantern.

The Assembly stared at The Arena. The guard ahead was in front of the only entrance to that cave system. They dared not try a mental attack, as the clothes of these Witch Hunters had historically been very resilient to the effects of the Dark Side. You had to get in close. But a loud noise would likely alert the others. And in such cramped spaces, even these Master Witches didn't like their odds, especially against potentially a small Army of people armed with soul stealing lanterns.

The Assembly then noticed a cable running on the ceiling overhead. She put a finger to it, chanting in High Sith. Her flesh shuddered as a current of purple electricity leapt from her body and raced silently on the cable, before it lanced into the guard from above, cooking him just as silently.

The Assembly hand signalled for everyone to follow.

"Tactical assessment, Galahad. Why these caves?" The Assembly asked....

Meanwhile...

The Battalion, The Assembly, and every other Witch in her body was greatly concerned for Galahad Io 's well being.

It wasn't until they saw the pain on his face that the Battalion realized she really did love him, because seeing him in pain caused her pain.

The Assembly was better able to hide it, which is why the Battalion had retreated into the white void in her skull inhabited by her and all the other Witches.

The Battalion watched through windows in the void that showed her what was going on, drinking an imaginary cognac.

"May I join you, Dear?"

The Battalion turned, spotting Xiphos, her mental Projection clad in a white Brain Demon Catsuit. Misery and anger were spread on her face at the death of Lancelot. Their bond was so strong Xiphos could now easily visit her mind, the most private of places to be where a Cultist was concerned. She let herself be pulled closer to her wife's mental projection.

"I'm so sorry about Lancelot, Julia..." The Battalion said, hand touching her spouse's mental face.

"Fethers ambushed him in a Nightclub. They nearly killed both of my mothers." Xiphos growled, the miserable look still on her face.

"Nuetralizers die all the time in the field. You know this." The Battalion reminded.

"And you think that makes it easier to bear? I'm connected to them all, Elaine. When one dies, I know it. I feel it."

Xiphos's fist clenched.

"He barely got to fulfill his function at all. Gunned down without even a chance to react."

"Now is the time for faith, Honey..." The Battalion said in silken fashion. "What you love--what we love--is under threat. Only with your rage and commitment will you grow stronger from this experience."

"I miss Lancelot..." Xiphos whispered. "Arianna is devastated."

"I..." The Battalion hesitated in what she said next.

"I can't feel about all of your children the way you do. There's too many of them--"

(Narrator: See what I did there?)

"--but I know I love Galahad. She said. "I know it doesn't make sense... especially coming from someone like me..."

(The Battalion's Will Saves have been lowered by -2)

"--but I'm starting to remember what loss is... through you...I don't know if I should thank you..."

"Why Galahad? I mean not that he isn't a sweetheart, but when it comes to you...why..." Xiphos wondered.

The Battalion's response was head-twistingly strange.

"Because...he...he..."

(Cutaway of the Battalion striking down one of her human selves apprentices after extensive Lightsaber torture on the night of her creation.)

"He's the sort of person my human self would have wanted an apprentice to turn out to be..." The Battalion answered.

"And I am...conflicted..." she added soberly.

"Are you conflicted over me?" Xiphos asked.

"No. I love you. Our marriage is a blessing to me."

Xiphos stroked her wife's face. "Then so is he..."

The Battalion pressed the hand closer to her cheek.

"And we must always count our blessings..."

"And care for them at all costs..." Xiphos added...

The two drew into each other's arms.

 

[Dev Ossian]

Galahad, wondering why the hell Isacc thought now would be a good time to start up a discussion about their mother’s relationship with the Amalgam, just ignored his brother. Instead he focused on the mysterious ancient-looking glyphs on the walls of the cave, taking pictures of them with his photoreceptors for study. It allowed him to avoid watching as the Assembly cooked a lantern-wielding guard alive.

"Tactical assessment, Galahad. Why these caves?"

“Caves make for good cover,” Galahad replied. “They are underground, and therefore more likely to survive even orbital bombardment. They’re also out of the way and less likely to be discovered by outsiders. Symbolically, they are transitory spaces—the threshold to another realm, such as the underworld of the dead, or a womb before birth. They can represent femininity, the heart of the world, unconsciousness…”

The Battalion​

 

[The Battalion]

"Agreed..." The Assembly said to Galahad. "Some of a Cult's best work is done in places just like this, for exactly the latter reasons you described."

They entered the hidden complex and found a sprawling complex. She saw evidence of work being done on the Lanterns, as well as whole masses of them on display. She saw various groups of the Witch Hunters scurrying about. And plenty of electrical fixtures...

Remembering she was a badass Witch in skintight clothing, she leaned against a wall, yawned, and snapped her fingers, purple electricity arcing from those fingers to an electrical cable and racing everywhere.

"Galahad, sweetie, avert your eyes. And maybe cover your ears." she warned her son.

Arcs of Electricity lanced out of various lights and cables, slamming into and killing multiple Witch Hunters at once, alarm Klaxons going off. The Assembly had carefully avoided hitting any of the lanterns, wanting to absorb whoever was within.

"Isaac, would you be a darling and sweep ahead. Those Lanterns are best suffered at a distance."

"You got it, Stepmom." The Model 1 merrily confirmed, hefting his magnetic Disruptor.

The Arena cackled, cloaking with the Force as she activated her red Lightsaber.

"Ahh, Lovebirds." The Assembly mused as she heard them both initiate a slaughter on the surviving responders.

"So Galahad..." she said pleasantly, waiting a moment before proceeding slowly ahead at a comfortable place.

"I have a number of essays on the nature and application of Force Lightning. Like the display that just occurred." she explained, walking up to one of the Lanterns. She sensed dozens of Personalities inside the Alchemized bulb within, currently unactivated.

She touched it, and her flesh shuddered horribly everywhere as she absorbed all the Witch personas within, face warping from a series of female guises from old to young until it shifted back to that of the Assembly.

"The only one in the Cult who knows more about Force Lightning is Amy, and I prefer to not have my essays full of memes and drawings of switchblades."

The Assembly touched another inactive bulb flesh bubbling and swelling as even more personas were absorbed into her body before it went back to normal.

"I could even arrange for time in Cult archives on the subject of you are interested."

Salamander

 

[Percival Io]

"Galahad, sweetie, avert your eyes. And maybe cover your ears."

Galahad did as requested, but could still smell flesh cooking. If not for the unprecedented research opportunities this place presented, he would not have come. He just kept reminding himself of that—though the excuse was sounding more and more hollow by the minute.

He was grateful when Isacc and the Arena departed, sweeping ahead of the group. In the meantime, Elaine spoke to him about her essays.

“Why do you use lightning?” Galahad asked. “Is it because of the pain it causes? Or is there another reason?” Something more symbolic, perhaps.

He watched as she began to absorb the personalities within the lantern bulbs, nodding his head distractedly when she offered to let him spend time in the Cult Archives. “What’s it like, having all those personalities inside you? Does it ever get frustrating? Upsetting?... Lonely?”

The Battalion​

 

[The Battalion]

"Lightning is a very useful skill. Soooo much more useful than an impromptu barbeque..." The Assembly explained patiently as though they were having a conversation at a coffee table. Which to be fair, something like this WAS their equivalent of just that.

"It can power generators, travel down conductive surfaces, absorb other forms of energy, infuse an already powerful storm. It can be used in alchemy and forging. It's flashy, I suppose, is another bonus. Pain in others is only a Bonus, if that, and as you well know, Galahad, a Brain Demon Cultist can bring out pain from others in so many creative ways that don't require electricity generated by the Dark Side."

The Assembly heard Isaac loudly joke to a victim about ripping out his entrails while in the process of ripping out their entrails.

The Assembly's flesh and mind shifted back to that of The Battalion after he asked his next more serious question.

"Picture..." she trailed, sincerely trying to explain to her son as best she could. She/Assembly had mainly offered another chance at Cult archives to try and take his mind off his brother being dead, but now it was a genuinely interesting conversation.

"Picture being a fly at the center of a web, and there are a million spiders smaller than that fly, swarming over it. They bite you, and it hurts occasionally, but you don't die and the spiders are never sated. Instead, you are in the process of constantly being devoured...yet you are also the one doing the devouring, for what flows into the spiders is you and you watch through their eyes...you encourage it, even." The Battalion answered, hoping it made sense.

"I never really experienced being upset at my creation. Maybe that was because my new body was created directly from Darth Phyre's tissue, I dunno, but I didn't experience the distress that...others...may have occasionally had. Does it get frustrating? Yeah, sometimes. Too many cooks in the kitchen. And each of them got their own ideas and it's up to me, in particular, to sort out the mess...but lonely--?"

She gave pause at the thought.

"It paradoxically, can be lonely..." she admitted. She smiled.

"But I don't feel that way when I'm around you." she added quietly. "I'm glad you're still alive. Glad that I...can protect you."

Perhaps Galahad would start to understand he was not some mild amusement to her, with that answer.


Percival Io

 

[Percival Io]

Galahad listened intently, mentally jotting down notes. “I knew there were more practical applications of Force lightning. I thought there might’ve been a ritualistic or sacred aspect for members of the Cult.” They seemed to revere pain and suffering, but did the type of pain inflicted matter? “Do you have a favorite method of killing?”

Her description of what it was like to be one of the many personas was admittedly fascinating. “That’s difficult for me to imagine,” Galahad admitted, trying to ignore the screams of the man Isacc was disemboweling. “I can’t feel physical pain. Unless you meant emotional or psychological pain.” That was likely a form of suffering she experienced. “So, the other personas feed on you, but you’re also strengthened by them? And that part feels… good?”

Despite the morbidity of the discussion, it was helping him to keep his mind off of Lance. These were questions he’d had for a long time, but ever since Rebecca was absorbed into the Cult, the mystery of the Witches and their nature had become more relevant than ever. Though he tried to hide his emotions, Galahad became visibly uncomfortable when Elaine admitted that many Witches experienced terrible distress.

"It paradoxically, can be lonely... But I don't feel that way when I'm around you. I'm glad you're still alive. Glad that I... can protect you."

“Protect me from what?” Galahad asked. Surely she wasn’t just referring to the Dathomiri, the lantern-wielding men, or any of the other threats they had encountered on this mission.

The Battalion​

 

[The Battalion]

"There is, but not as much as you might think. Amy is something of an anomaly, that she is so good at it. The only one who surpasses her is The Assembly."

She leaned back in thought be a moment.

"Darkness is our preferred method of religious expression. The act of creating it. Harnessing it. These are the things the Cult wishes even the lowest ranking of Citizens to understand." she explained to Galahad.

When the subject came to herself, she nodded in affirmation of his musings.

"Over the years, as I have assimilated more, the very fabric of me has interwoven with the others. I am as much me as I am any other in my body. As for a favorite killing method, the same as your Mother. The blade."

When the subject came to protecting him, her expression grew serious.

"I have never been married before I met Laertia. Never been a Consort to anyone or anything. The sensation of having a... whatever you want to call this... it's been..."

She reached out impulsively, touching his hair.

"I've never been a stepmother before...and I didn't realize how much I was enjoying that. Caring for a Stepson..."

Her gaze softened. "I don't know if what I am feeling is something you, yourself, could identify as love. But it's the closest word I have for it when I see you. I'm glad I can protect you because I love you. I know you probably don't feel the same way, though."

Just then, The Arena ran back up.

"You gotta come see this." The other Witch said breathlessly.

The Battalion sighed. This would happen, right after opening up...

"What is it?" The Battalion asked in clear irritation.

"Magical barrier. High grade. Light Side. I get any closer, I'll be asking to get melted."

The Battalion let out a sigh.

"I swear, without me, this Cult's head would practically fall off." The Battalion muttered, before casually strolling with the Arena past a mound of bodies drained of life by The Arena.

Isaac was busy disposing of Witch Hunter Bodies when the others arrived.

A long hall protected by strange runes on all sides made The Battalion stop cold.

"I know this magic. It is The Man in White's." she spoke with understated exclamation.

"He is protecting something at the other end." She realized. "We'll explode if we try and reach the other end without disabling the runes."

"So how do we disable them?" Isacc asked.

Her hands went to her hips. The Battalion paced a bit.

"Give me a moment."

The Battalion's face began to melt and warp like the rest of her body, dark, curly perm melting into straight, dirty blond hair, cold, sharp features softening and rounding, eyes changing to a blue color. She became shorter, slightly less muscles, yet the catsuit still adhered flawlessly.

The Museum opened her eyes and smiled at Galahad as she went into a meditative position on the ground, flesh in her face shuddering slightly from being so close to the Light Side Runes.

"Sit with me a while, Galahad, won't you? My name is The Museum." The Witch spoke as her metal controlling abilities ripped away all the nearby metal, breaking it down into a liquid state as she gathered it in an increasingly large sphere. The giant chamber seemed to dim.

"As to the point Elaine was getting to earlier. The creation of darkness is a key aspect of being a Cultist." She explained gently and politely to Galahad, even as her flesh began to bubble.

The light grew dimmer, and the flesh began to pull off the Museum's skull, yet she never lost that motherly tone. "In darkness, the truth always hides. Any truth worth finding is sought after in the most obscure of places. All things worth learning are learned with great difficulty. What the Cult posits isn't so different from any other Sith organization save for the fact we no longer believe an empire is necessary for this to occur, and our belief that even the non force User should enjoy and make use of it. Of the Dark Side. Our Goddess facilitates this for countless people across many worlds. People who would literally be without any other choice but to accept cruel fate. The will of the Force is always cruel."

The chamber went to near pitch black conditions.

"We provide relief from that cruelty when we are able to, by providing a means to defy it's will." The Museum explained. "It's just that our Goddess demands the only things that have any actual value in the universe: Life, Sensation, and Emotion in exchange for providing that gift."

The sphere of liquid metal arced with red lightning, the glare casting light on her now horribly warping, bubbling figure.

"It is rare for us to have what my host does. The Cult has come to adore House Io, and would bless each citizen if they'd permit it."

She sent the sphere into the passage, and it spread over and covered the runes, red lightning arcing off a now glossy black surface as the Museum's flesh went back to normal.

Still with that pleasant, motherly smile, she gestured for Galahad to follow her into the passage. She went at a leisurely pace, so she could talk comfortably with Galahad while Isacc and The Arena followed.

"Galahad, I'm curious...do you not worry your pacifism will lead you to an early grave?" The Museum asked with sincerity. "I...I know you are different from your brothers...but have you worked it over, really worked it over, the reality of being a pacifist?"

There was no sneering, no contempt. Just genuine curiosity.

Percival Io

 

[Percival Io]

The rest of the discussion fell by the wayside as Elaine reached for him. Galahad started to stiffen, but then relaxed, letting her touch his hair. His expression reflected the tangle of conflicting emotions within him, there in the softening of his gaze and the tightening of his mouth.

He knew she had done terrible things. But, she wasn’t totally evil. Was this the lingering woman she had been in her, or was it something new that had developed? Would it be possible to—

His musing was interrupted by the return of the Arena, insisting that they had to see something: a magical barrier. The Battalion identified it as having been made by the Man in White. Galahad had some records detailing the Man’s exploits, but he remained a very mysterious figure.

He watched in morbid fascination as the Battalion transformed into yet another persona, one he hadn’t seen before. This one, a blonde, introduced herself as the Museum. At her request, Galahad sat.

She spoke at length about the Cult’s beliefs. Galahad was unimpressed with their philosophy, but that was nothing new—everything he had heard thus far, while fascinating, was horrific to him. Trading cosmic cruelty for mortal cruelty certainly didn’t seem like a very good deal. But he said nothing to her on the subject. It felt pointless to debate with a Witch of the Cult. They were, by their very nature, brainwashed into believing the Brain Demon was right.

The Museum’s powers got the job done, removing the barrier and allowing them to enter the passageway beyond it. Galahad headed inside after her.

"Galahad, I'm curious...do you not worry your pacifism will lead you to an early grave? I… I know you are different from your brothers… but have you worked it over, really worked it over, the reality of being a pacifist?"

“Yes,” Galahad replied. “I know it could. Perhaps it will inevitably lead to my destruction. I do not want to die. But, as a great theologian once said, ‘It is better to be clean than comfortable’. If I were in a situation where I had to defend someone else’s life, I would. But otherwise, the taking of life is almost always unnecessary.” He had no religious beliefs requiring him to perform sacrifices, after all.

The Battalion​

 

[The Battalion]

The Museum eyed him in seeming confusion, unable to comprehend how he could just accept such a fate. If the Museum had been fully human she might have understood, even with still being a Sith. But his answer, while not angering her, while not making her or any of the other personas in her sneer at him, nonetheless left all of them utterly baffled.

"I see..." The Museum replied, face and body warping disgustingly back into that of The Battalion's.

"Then it's a good thing I can be ruthless enough for both of us..." The Battalion said, finally reaching the chamber at the end.

She placed her hand on the seal of the chamber door, chanting in high Sith.

The door crumbled as the power of the Dark Side courses through it.

The Battalion stared in surprise as The Night brother that had attacked her awaited at the center.

"You again..." The Battalion smirked, entering and circling him, though she very discretely gestured for the others to stand back.

"And tell me, what has such an enterprising fellow such as yourself got to do with these stuffy Witch Hunters? What were you promised? And where did you get my apprentice's Lightsaber?" She asked, activating her red blade and pointing it at his face.

The Nightbrother, instead of answering, did the most unexpected thing he could have.

In a swift motion, he got around her blade point, and slapped her so hard in the face she stumbled backwards.

Both Isaac's Jaw and the Arena's mouth fell open.

The Battalion, once she got her bearings, for the Nightbrother just stood there, arms folded, staring at her in contempt, her eye twitched.

The Battalion's face contorted in an utterly ghastly expression of deadly rage completely unlike her normal, reserved state.

"I have so many personas, but the only one who kills you today is mine." she hissed.

The Nightbrother made a "yapping" gesture with his right hand.

His own red blade activated just as The Battalion's blade was nearly in proximity.

Red bars swept against and spat at each other as The Nightbrother went on the defensive, The Battalion intent on dismembering him.

The walls of the chamber began to vibrate imperceptibly...

Percival Io

 

[Percival Io]

When they first encountered the Nightbrother, Galahad expected the Battalion to make mincemeat of him in short order. When he managed to bypass her defenses and slap her across the face, the Chaplain had to fight to contain his laughter. It was extremely funny. He wished he had been recording with his photoreceptors so that he could've sent the hilarious moment to his brothers.

He noticed the vibrating of the walls, which wiped the almost-smile from his face. Turning toward the Arena, he raised his eyebrows questioningly and gestured to the oscillating chamber.

The Battalion​

 

[The Battalion]

The Arena noticed it too. Her eyebrow crinkled in curiosity as The Battalion savagely attacked her opponent, dispensing with her normal preference of Makashi sword play in favor of battering him into submission with The Strong Style in a one handed fashion...but the Nightbrother proved himself more and more formidable, weathering her best attacks.

Ah, We should have killed you at the start of it. The Battalion thought. You've had time to think on your previous fight...

In any case, The Nightbrother was rapidly earning her respect if nothing else...she found him a clever, cagey duelist who didn't take unnecessary risks, who conserved his energy...

Something tickled the back of her brain at his fighting style, how practiced and long lived it seemed to be.

The Arena figured it out at the last possible second.

"Batty, get out of there! It's a trap! The metal has been Light-Magnetized!" The Arena yelled.

"At hearing these words, The Battalion used Force Flight to dive out of the chamber and tackle The Arena for her own safety as the runes on the chamber glowed and the vibrating became more intense on the metal shell of the chamber.

The Battalion felt herself and The Arena being dragged into the chamber invisibly, their flesh threatening to tear off the skeleton of both as they were dragged across the ground back to the chamber. Isaac tried firing his disruptor only to be Force Pushed back by the now grinning Nightbrother.

The Battalion tried using the Dark Side, only to find her powers were disrupted.

"Isaac! Get Galahad to safety!" The Battalion yelled as she and The Arena were pulled into the chamber, both impacting against the Walls, their flesh straining through the catsuits to stick to the wall as much as possible, giving the visual impression both were half melted somehow.

"Get him to safety!" she used her remaining strength to shout as the chamber closed rapidly in front of Galahad.

Isacc's sensors detected a flood of footsteps. Reinforcement from the desert.

"Kid! We gotta go! Now!" Isacc said, pissed about leaving his girlfriend behind but not having a choice.

"We're not abandoning them, but we can't stay here!"

Percival Io

 

[Percival Io]

As the duel between the Nightbrother and the Battalion continued, Galahad couldn’t help but be impressed by the former’s skill. He was so used to seeing his Stepmother and other Witches absolutely mop the floor with their opponents that being able to witness a lone duelist hold their own against one of the most powerful members of the Cult was nothing short of awe-inspiring.

But the fight was short-lived, as the Arena suddenly shouted a warning to the Battalion proclaiming that it was a trap. Both Witches attempted to escape, but were yanked back into the chamber by the magnetized metal.

The Battalion’s final act was to order Isacc to get Galahad to safety. Sensors detecting movement from the desert, the Chaplain looked to his brother, who urged him to get going. Galahad followed Isacc out.

“What are we going to do?” he asked as they ran. Unusual though it was for a Neutralizer, Galahad was beginning to feel anxious. The pacifistic Chaplain and his warrior brother were almost certainly bound for a fight—how would Galahad handle it?

The Battalion​