Wearing:
Darkspawn Raiments
Armed with:
Dauntless Blade
Though the flesh that called itself Ersethy simply for the sake of having a designate for others to use had the knowledge of the Lightsaber, it still preferred alchemized metal swords for the sake of bloodshed.
It had come to New Cov to corrupt the planet, only to sense a corruption that rivalled it's own slowly spreading.
It could suffer no rivals. Would suffer no rivals. It would seek out, try to dominate. And if it could not dominate, it would try to destroy it.
The skin suit worn by the Darkness, that of a pale skinned redhead whose features were an amalgamation of all the monstrous witches who had fused together by accident thousands of years ago walked the dangerous forests of New Cov guided only by the Darkness inside it, and the Flesh's faith in the Mawite gods of
Thomas Barran
. If this...presence... could be tamed...if anything could be learned from it...
Then the Darkness would use it to bring glory to the cause of The Dark Three.
Ersethy had a basic, apparently
mass production Alchemized Sword slung over its back. It had command of the Force--an IMMENSE command.
But the Flesh powered only by Darkness, utterly lacking a soul, even it's original, gestalt soul, still enjoyed hands on butchering...
It was not long before the predators of the fierce wilds, themselves driven mad by the emergence of the thing corrupting the world soon arrived. The flesh took an earthly pleasure as the sensation of imminent slaughter approached. For the Darkness powering the thoughts of the flesh it wore to manifest itself in this reality, it was merely a minor chore.
The hive mind husk that the Darkness gave voice and thought to took great pleasure in cruelly, slowly butchering the wild like with her alchemized sword, wreathed in red flames.
Red flames capable of damaging even alchemized or Force imbued Objects escaped her throat melting tough hides and increasing the agony of the wild predators as they died. The flesh savored the death coursing through it, feeding off the suffering inflicted. It took its time. It was in no rush.
But as the flesh...and the Darkness puppeting it would soon learn...
Even a vessel such as this was still vulnerable to the unexpected.
Toying with some of its prey before killing them, and the ease with which they were dominated and slain, it almost didn't notice a strange multicolored mosquito like insect the size of a baseball.
That insect's species was the local badass in this part of the jungle. It gave no feths, and if it had been offered any, would have politely declined the offer had it been sapient enough to comprehend it.
It saw an evil witch demon-thingy, mutilating it's fellow denizens and it's instinct was to throw hands, and divebomb the evil schutta. Not because it cared about the fate of its jungle peers, but simply because it wanted
to throw hands.
(Worf From First Contact: Today is a good day to die!)
Ersethy had gotten done butchering a particularly large beast when it felt the insect's needle pierce her side, continuously shanking her and injecting its strange poison into its body. It wasn't particularly concerned with its own survival, more just shanking the beast like it was a Riddick who had found himself an Ulak Blade...
The flesh staggered back fever already setting in. She tried to swipe at it but the Insect had already flown off, not because it wanted to survive, but because it was tired and needed a break from shanking someone.
The host body of the darkness felt its flesh bubbling and rippling everywhere uncontrollably, her face breaking down in a contorted expression of agony, shifting between every witch of its gestalt consciousness and swelling violently, steam escaping from its ears, mouth, eyes, nose, and horrible fissures that split open on its arms and legs
The explosion of gore spread a mess of white blood, rotted yellow organs and shreds of its gown everywhere. The largest lumps of remains remained inert for a half hour, being avoided by animals and even an explorer from New Cov who came across it, recognized the remains of a Force Spawn starting to stir, and wisely NOPED the hell out of that area as fast as his legs would carry him.
The masses of flesh formed seven humanoid bodies, each naked, and covered in barely regrowing shreds of Ersethy's gown.
Somia, the witch that looked the most like the master of
Starlin Rand
was the first to open her eyes after Erio. Though all witches looked distinct the one uniting factor was that they all possessed some degree of red hair.
Each violent, depraved Sorceress hungered for energy now...
Somia looked at Ymira, the tallest of them, and the only one who had been an actual worshipper of the Dark Three thousands of years in the past...
"This jungle has proven to be an unexpected challenge..." The Darkness said through Somia's lips, puppeting all of them, but giving the Somia-Body command authority of the other hosts it's main one had been forcibly split into.
Their collective instinct was to immediately try to re-merge.
This caused their bodies to explode
again it took ten minutes to reform. As long as the insects poison was in their bodies, they could not reform.
Thalia, Pretending Mistress, given thought and voice only because it was the darkness 'roleplaying' as her, bound to the rules of this universe snorted at Somia.
"This is what we get for letting you take the wheel so often..." she said with a snort, starting ahead of the other, angered witches after they had recreated copies of Ersethy's gown to wear to look at least civilized as they trudged through the jungle...
"And now, thanks to you, we are at a disadvantage..." Erio grumbled as she followed.
Somia only snorted in division and followed soon after...
Mr. Usher
