Of Witches And Monsters [TSE/ME Diplo of Dathomir Hex]

[Tarana]

The Dathomir witch snorted at [member="Kahlil Zambrano"] 's statements as she followed alongside him, though the smile that accompanied it would show she'd done so out of amusement. "We'll have to see, then, where this leads." Tarana shrugged as her smile would widen a bit more, "And it's Tarana," the red-head would state as she came to a stop, making sure to be a pace or two behind the negotiating parties as they reached one of the inner chambers that made up this covens' home. She'd stay quiet, leaning on her spear out of habit not need, as she listened silently to the exchange between Kahlil, [member="Lark"] , and Shien.

 

[Darth Carnifex]

As the group made their way towards the gate, the Emperor's ears pricked up as he sensed a noticeable shift in the air's density behind him. Turning around, the Emperor's eyes met those of a small boy as he ran across the flat plateau and collided right with his leg. The impact brought the boy to a screeching halt and planted him firmly on his butt in the dirt, leaving the Emperor unphased saved for the amusing raise of his eyebrow at the small child at his feet.

Reaching down, the Emperor cusped the child by the back of his tunic and hauled him up to about eye-level. He was so infinitesimally small compared to the gargantuan Dark Lord, the disparity between them practically comical.

They looked in each other's eyes, the barest hint of recognition as molten eyes ringed by black met brilliant emerald.

Placing the child back on his feet, the Emperor's words were a subdued rumble. "So, you are one of Yasha's children, are you not? I thought I spied the traits of an Epicanthix about you, my boy." With hands on his hips, he allowed the barest of smiles to play across his lips to perhaps diffuse whatever reservations the boy may have in the presence of such a monstrous individual like himself. "What is your name, I do not believe your mother has elected to inform me."

[member="Yasha Cadera"] | [member="Darth Prazutis"] | [member="Taeli Raaf"]
[member="Cassiopeia Australis"] | [member="Cynthia Solus"] | [member="Aedan Miles"]​

 

[Yasha Cadera]

What was an ad’ika to do, when a gigantic mountain picked him up by the scruff of his tunic collar?

Put up his fists, of course. Five year old Magnus clenched his childish fists, gave out a war cry of, “Oya, mountain!”, and punched repeatedly in the air around [member="Darth Carnifex"]’s arm. Black and red eyes met emerald.

The punches and struggle stopped. Magnus’s emerald eyes widened in an infantile fascination with the man behind the hulking mountainous body. He calmed, set down without ‘running strange’ as many children did when an unfamiliar presence met theirs. Little Magnus puffed up his chest, put on what he thought was a fierce and strong face.

“I’m Magnus Ra, and I’m gonna be the biggest and strongest Mandalorian in the universe! Even bigger than my Buirs and my brothers.” Magnus stuck his fist to his chest the way adult Mandalorians did to his mother. Darth Carnifex was so tall, the ad’ika thought of climbing his back to the top. Think of how much he could see up so high?

Before he could begin his ascent, a firm and lilting voice spread through the air.

“Magnus, my love. Why did you run? Ram’ika is worried.” Yasha trotted to her child, wrapping the boy’s waist in her arm and propping him on her hip. She touched her forehead to his, noses together to share a breath and Keldabe kiss. He hugged his arms around his mother’s neck, able now to look at Carnifex from a greater height.

“Buir, I met a mountain! A talking mountain, who smiled at me! Can I climb him?! Sit on the tippy top?” He pointed a chubby hand at the Dark Lord. A woman’s lungs filled with air and held it.

Yasha hissed out an exhale, and finally traced her eyes across Carnifex’s shoulders, neck to those perilous and unequalled eyes. Her eyebrows furrowed, lips open but clumsy and drowned in far too many words. Five years.

A half decade since last she put those scars on his face. Since their haggard parting.

It was but a blink in eternity, bound together by a force stronger than fickle and wilted destiny.

Her amber eyes never left those tempestuous crimson irises. Teeth bit on her bottom lip, Yasha leaned down and nuzzled her nose in Magnus’ hair. She kissed her son’s brow, eyes still on the Dark Lord who forgave all ills to agree upon mutual protection without restraint. How could she forgive him for Commenor, or...

“You shaved your head... everyone must think you even more terrifying... Kaine...” This man of nightmares. God of depravity and power. A force which made the universe tremble and quake and bend and perish.

A man, who smiled at a strange boy and held him calmly in the palm of his hand.

“Buir, you’re squishing me. I want to climb the mountain.”

“Walk with me... with us. Sorry about mother, she’s abrasive and fearless... and she’s been alive five minutes and I am already apologizing. She is, isn’t she? Alive? Not... some illusion or...” Yasha turned on her heels, walking with even stride toward that dashed Warlock Gate. Yes, there were questions for the Dark Lord. Yes, there were words unspoken since Kaas City, and their terrible fall.

Questions outside of other ears.

[member="Aedan Miles"] [member="Cassiopeia Australis"] [member="Taeli Raaf"] [member="Darth Prazutis"]

 

[Kahlil Noble]

"If those are your only concerns, we are more than willing to make such a deal." Kahlil smiled patiently to Shien as [member="Lark"] spoke to her. His companion certainly knew his way around his words. It seemed fitting he would as an assassin. Still. The witches were smart. They knew how outnumbered they were, and the importance of making friends before enemies. It was likely the only reason they haven't been killed.

"What say you."

[member="Tarana"]

 

[Darth Prazutis]

The groups separated while the Sith gave the Mandalore ample time to privately reunite with her resurrected mother.

The Shadow Hand accompanied the Emperor [member="Darth Carnifex"] towards the Warlock Gate, the monolith returned to its normal glow after the magic that defied reality took control. But quite suddenly there was a twinge in the force, a pinprick of advanced warning and the patter of footsteps reaching the eight foot titan's enhanced senses. Prazutis quickly spun around to see a young child run headlong into Kaine, the sheer size difference it was like running into a wall sending the boy onto his butt.

It was comical by comparison with the boy and the eight foot two, six hundred sixty pound giants who stood before him. A boy with a young boy's frame and two titans whose entire bodies were geared for war like a pair of statues chiseled from granite. As Kaine picked the boy up he too flashed the boy a warming smile, as his eyes scanned the small form. There were things left unsaid, subtle clues in the boys form that spoke volumes to the Zambrano Lord. As the boys eyes passed from Kaine to his uncle and molten orbs ringed with black met brilliant emerald, on a strong chin and black haired face the smile turned into a brief, subtle rapt grin.

There were reasons beyond the material that caused the young boy not to be afraid of them, even with the Lord of Lies who held a shaved head and an aggressive black beard, a dominant sigil stood out on the skin of his forehead. Prazutis spoke softly it Epicant to the young boy "A sibimkoli' mopi i'ay volli' vuesk, ed hedr i'ay." He said as the controlled flash of a reaction showed to the trained eye that he knew more than he let on.

Enter the Mother.

Yasha came running over scooping up the child. The moments of tense silence from her arrival once more brought previous events he was well too aware of. Scars that the Dark Lord wore proudly, scars that were forgiven. Only the Infernal could afford such a luxury for the ancient Destroyer slaughtered many thousands, for far less sleights against his family. It was what it took to teach the galaxy a lesson for striking against the Zambranos, death on such a massive scale it wouldn't be forgotten for generations.

As they began to walk together he clasped his hands behind his back in a classic imperial pose, while the Infernal began to ask her questions about the events that unfolded. He nodded as her head turned towards the Shadow Hand "It is no illusion she is alive. There will be some...side effects for a living soul is not ripped from the grip of the Netherworld lightly. For a period there may be lack of sleep, souls experience the netherworld far differently as they are gradually consumed by the elemental chaos, the longer they are dead and the weaker the soul in force ability the harder it is to resist. There are other trivial side effects but those should go away shortly. I do not foresee it impacting her to any significant degree." He said in a lecturing tone, the voice of a master of death and a conqueror of the Netherworld. Through his own personal experiences and his experiences with Kaine's soul both when it was pulled into the realm and when he brought him back after his second death.

[member="Darth Carnifex"] | [member="Yasha Cadera"] | [member="Taeli Raaf"] | [member="Cassiopeia Australis"] | [member="Cynthia Solus"] | [member="Aedan Miles"] |

 

[Taeli Raaf]

[member="Darth Carnifex"] [member="Darth Prazutis"] [member="Yasha Cadera"] [member="Aedan Miles"] [member="Cynthia Solus"] [member="Cassiopeia Australis"]

She had watched through the negotiations, keeping her counsel to herself as the treaty was signed by the Emperor and the Shadow Hand... and then they had to go the extra mile. She kept quiet as Prazutis brought back Yasha's mother from the Netherworld, with only an ever so slight frown turning the corners of her mouth down. To bring back her soul and create a new body for her, only death could pay for life. That was one reason she had refrained from actually performing many things involving necromancy and the revival of souls. She might know how to perform such rituals, but it was her personal choice to avoid them. There was always a balance with these things, and these things... always demanded a steep price.

There was a high price for using such power recklessly, and she doubted it would be Prazutis that would pay the piper.

The mother was brusque, very abrasive. Blunt and didn't seem bothered with proper decorum or manners for that matter. She... honestly was not surprised. Closing her eyes, she stayed quiet and in her seat, focusing her thoughts towards other endeavors she could undertake on the world soon enough.

 

[Darth Carnifex]

"Magnus." repeated the Sith Emperor, albeit a bit more breathily than the small child boasting before him.

The significance of the name would be lost on many at the assembly, perhaps to his own mother as well on a certain level. It was a name of prophecy, one spoken with reverence among the generations of Zambranos since those dark days of Solomon. But before the young Magnus could carry out his childish wishes, he was scooped up in the dotting arms of his birth mother; much to his chagrin in sight of the 'talking mountain'. It was amusing in a way, the fierce boundless energy constrained within such a small tiny form.

When Yasha mentioned his shaved head, his hand absently went to rub the now hairless scalp despite him being unable to feel any form of sensation across his weathered and scarred skin. "Far less to maintain, though many of my wives insisted on keeping the beard. I granted them that one request." Indeed, though more restrained than his previous wild man's facial hair, there was still a significant amount of beard covering his lower jaw to be distinct.

"And what my uncle again says is true, there will be hurdles to overcome but ultimately your mother will acclimate to her rebirth as I once did." He grew silent for a time, letting it grow as they walked closer to the accursed Warlock Gate. "I assume you have questions for me, Yasha, questions that are not to be put on record. Questions that may be for our ears only?" He raised an eyebrow towards Prazutis, a small inclination that perhaps it would set Yasha at ease if it was only her and Kaine for now.

​

[member="Yasha Cadera"] | [member="Darth Prazutis"] | [member="Taeli Raaf"]​

[member="Cassiopeia Australis"] | [member="Cynthia Solus"] | [member="Aedan Miles"]​

 

[Yasha Cadera]

“Tuomq i'ay, paymdoem. Pono Girak roi'r pi' mopi rdlyvq uep em o kliop. Amk ed'r oss pemi! I kam'd uozi da ruoli ed vedu Girak-Kaine. Hi amsi' bidr xallavik mopir. Wi ruoli izili'duemb, xyd mad pi' mopi.” Magnus answered in Epicant, sticking his thumb to his sternum and attempting to stand a little taller on his tip toes.

The Lord of Lies spoke a litany of words unvocalized as he glanced at Yasha’s child, his nephew and the Mand’alor herself. Yasha caught sight of the gazes, those cold eyes as wicked and demonic as the dark gods he used to break her mother’s soul from its’ prison. What secret cost would come about for this?

Magnus Ra sucked in a deeeeeep breath and flailed his arms about, voice a shriek only an excited little boy could muster. “There’s two mountains! Buir, two mountains!! Pleeeaassee! Please let me climb them!”

“Side effects? Maggi, hush…” Yasha wrangled Magnus onto her other hip, brushing a hand over his hair as he squirmed. “My mother has no ability in the Force at all, she never did… I’ll put her under observation and if anything arises, perhaps our mutual friend [member="Taeli Raaf"] might assist? If you’d let me borrow her for a day or two.”

A shiver rocked down her spine. There was a negotiated warmth to [member="Darth Carnifex"]. A series of reasonings one could, if they were careful, follow. She assumed no such luck or mercy from [member="Darth Prazutis"]. The only warmth Yasha witnessed from the monstrous man was to her daughter, [member="Adara Raxis"]. But that, well, that was over. Adara was safe from all alarum.

“They were right…” Yasha huffed and shook her head. “It behooves a man to keep his spouses happy, otherwise even your life would be far too difficult.”

Even Kaine Zambrano lived at the mercy of his uncle’s hand. The thought made her shoulders raise, as a womanly ribcage expanded and slowly made its’ retreat. More died for less insults than Yasha had, in her years, doffed on the Sith Emperor’s head. Whether he refused retaliation based on her position, or her gender, or her race… or some deeper machination eluded her.

Why? A simple enough question with diverse answers. Why did Carnifex still appease and speak gently? Why did the way the Dark Lord spoke her son’s name rock her with enough deprivation of breath to cause her hands to loosen and the child in her arms to jump from his mother to clutch at Carnifex’s arm?

“Magnus!” Yasha watched her child climb up the Dark Lord’s arm to his shoulder, feet flopping on either side of the massive man’s neck.

“I can see everything from up here! I wanna be tall like this! No, I will be.” The assurance of a child, who knew less of the worlds than he thought. How innocent a place, a child at 5 who had yet to fight and kill. Yasha marvelled at her sons and daughters, they grew with none of the terrors she survived, and yet they remained in a wealth of certain strengths. Her son did not appear to be in danger from his brash action, and as they walked, Yasha was forced within arm’s reach of the Dark Lord for her son’s trouble.

“Do you not share everything with Braxus? I confess though, the time since Er’kit and Kaas have filled my mind of late. When you agreed to entreat, I…” Another deep breath, and a husked whisper. “You confuse me.”

Why. The simplest of questions oft brought to conversation by an inquisitive toddling mind. That one question did not stop being asked as a being grew in size and intellect. Yasha walked on, a flimsy and hopeful trust that her son would not be harmed by the last of the Zambrano pure-bloods.

She made her way to the Warlock Gate, that perilous door, and heard none of the screams or the agonies which plagued her every time she ventured to Dathomir. A gasp at the Gate, a shudder and parted lips.

“It’s stopped. The Gate does not speak to me now… vui’?” A presence behind her, his shadow warm in the gloom. She tilted her head only slightly to see the Dark Lord, before shutting amber eyes. “Wuod kek i'ay ka da pi? Hav vaysk i'ay nimidlodi pi' pemk? Ass ah ed vor lios. Fezi i'iolr ah ed, izili' mebud, vui'? I sezi emreki duer kerdlyrdhys perymkilrdomkemb, duaybud I vor xiemb klezim emromi xi' pi' avm ryxvamrveayr. Ezili'ami rnioqr ah uav zeveayr omk kombilayr i'ay oli, uav I pyrd lym omk mizil saaq xovq. Amk I qmav duii''li lebud... xyd vui'... vui' ruayskm'd I lym hlap i'ay?”

 

[Darth Carnifex]

The Emperor was placid as the young Magnus clambered up his arm and perched himself on his shoulders, for it was barely a burden for the Dark Lord to bear his weight. The child was adventurous, bold, and acted very much like his namesake. Carnifex could feel a natural kinship with the boy he held aloft, the same keen sense of oneness that he had felt with members of his own family from time to time. He could infer that the child would grow to do many great things, his legacy etched with his tremendous deeds.

"Your confusion is to be expected, Yasha Mantis, Mand'alor of the Mandalorian Clans." He reached up and cupped the small Magnus under his arms, lifting him up over his head and setting him down on the ground as they neared the infamous Warlock Gate. Even now, the Emperor could vividly remember the day he crossed over through this doorway, traversing the Netherworld of the Force by his own volition to seek our the tormented soul of Ra Vizsla; plucking it from its resting place so that it could eventually serve his own interests. It was a truth that only a scant few in the galaxy were aware of, one of them the woman that now stood before the Emperor.

"You are torn between the Light and the Dark. You fraternize with Jedi and try to experience what they have blinded themselves with, but that will only lead to ruin. You were born of the Dark, all of your children are born of the Dark. There is only one path that will grant you clarity and purpose." He held up a hand, indicating to his comrades that they should remain behind as he approached the Warlock Gate without hesitation. He only stopped when he was on the precipice of passing beyond its shimmering surface.

Turning back, his eyes connected with Yasha and he extended one hand out to her in an offering. "Come with me and we will discuss such matters at the genesis of both our reckonings."

[member="Yasha Cadera"]​

 

[Gaia Sunaris Cadera]

Cassiopeia watched the scene unfold before her. It had all happened to quickly – the kids had escaped. Aditya was resurrected. The boys crawled over the Dark Lord and his brother, [member="Darth Prazutis"]. She realized she was holding her breath a little too late – a large exhale. Manda, help. If there was one thing she had hoped, it was that the kids wouldn’t see them.

She watched Carnifex carefully as he handled the child before placing him down. The more the Sith knew, they more chance they could use them against Yasha. She bit her lip as she thought about the consequences of today, of what an innocent action might bring.

And… Was [member="Darth Carnifex"] taking [member="Yasha Cadera"] elsewhere? She had expected them to head somewhere, elsewhere. But… Not that direction. Not towards the warlock gate. And as Magnus was sat down, the two began to walk towards the gate. Sensing that the child may try to follow the group, Cassiopeia quickly came and snatched him up into her arms. “Hey, we’ll have an adventure on the ship, yeah? Let me just get to your mom, first.”

With that, she quickly ran. “Yasha! Darth Carnifex, where in the worlds are you going?” There was nothing else occurring in the room – nor did she really understand the concern of trying to stop the Dark Lord and Yasha’s meeting on the other side. Perhaps it was risky to make a run for Yasha especially right after the signing of the treaty. But in truth, Cassiopeia had one thing in mind - the concern of her best friend. If she made it, and wasn’t stopped, she would have grabbed Yasha’s arm and pulled back as much as she could while she held Magnus tight against her side. No, he wouldn’t even be able to wiggle how tight she had him.

“What are you doing,” she whispered to Yasha as she glared towards Carnifex.

 

[Darth Prazutis]

Everything was proceeding as he had foreseen.

The black hearted puppet master pulled the strings of the great and powerful and they danced, like the pied piper they reacted to the sound of the flute he played. A thick spider web of deception covered every interaction like a shroud that kept everyone off balance, it kept uncertainty high as true intent was lost in the darkness of his void tainted, molten orbs called eyes. Everything was so much more complicated from the future to what was happening in the now. As a true immortal, his presence had grown exponentially far beyond the trappings of a Sith Lord since the expeditions of Asation. A bond struck with an entity outside of reality caused a fundamental shift, he had become the entity. A madness, a potential even he still sought to understand. But everything was different from how he viewed reality, to how the Shadow Hand experienced time. Every word, every conscious thought unbarred by nature's evolutionary barrier reached his ears, rang out into his mind. As [member="Darth Carnifex"] spoke giving an inclination to separate it was purely for the comfort of [member="Yasha Cadera"]. In response he made no overt gesture, no nod or expression of outrage it was a simple meeting of the eyes, a signal only understood between brothers who spent day in day out together for over forty years.

The very ground around him was unsettling, disturbing beyond the trappings of the dark side, it was raw void energy of the realm beyond reality. As one stared for very long at him it was as if he was perpetually staring back at them, at all of them in every direction. It wasn't clear when he moved or how but quite suddenly in a glance he was gone, vanishing from sight like dust on the wind. Words spoken in hushed whispers seemed to carry, but one couldn't help but feel the deeply unsettling, eerie, vile feeling in the pits of their stomachs that they were being watched. It was as if the gathered group even those close to Cassiopeia Caranthyr felt like they stood dangerously close to the edge of a cliff, beyond which eldritch madness reigned. Words spoken like hushed whispers carried on the wind, distant smells and sounds of battle quietly carried around them only to vanish when they were focused on too much.

The world seemed to shift when [member="Cassiopeia Caranthyr"] made her mad dash towards the Emperor.

Hate boiled on her mind her intentions unknown. The surging darkness and choking madness reacted it flooded towards the running woman. Quite suddenly her mind was filled with images, projections of the very same moment. A being projected many possible futures of the actions she carried out showing the landscape around her. There were so many futures too many to count virtually all of them ended in blood and death, agony and horror. The smell of hot plasma on the air as guards cut loose, riddling her form with bolts, a brutal application of dark side power, madness breaking her consciousness so many variations of violence and horror. It wasn't clear where he came from, but somewhere between the shutting of her eyes as she blinked, and their opening in that moment the Dark Titan seemingly appeared much to everyone's surprise blocking her from reaching them. He appeared to say nothing but his voice seemed to carry on the wind.

"Just one more step, one sudden motion, one quickened breath or a dark thought is all it could take. So many futures, so many possibilities but only one that doesn't see this story end. Make your choice child." Darth Prazutis said, his eyes bore holes through her form, he seemed to wear death like a shroud, the void thrummed from his body like a beating heart. It became painfully clear that Cassi wasn't going to be reaching the Emperor, she wasn't going to get the chance to yank her friend away from the Black-Iron Tyrant a distance behind him.

 

[Yasha Cadera]

“I can see everything on the planet from here! Wow, Buir look! Girak-Kaine and Papa are standing with the weird lady! Hi Girak-Kaine! Hi weird lady! I did it, Buir. I climbed the mountain.” Magnus thrust both hands in the air, as he reached the top of the mountain! A tangled web of muscles in Yasha’s body relaxed, when [member="Darth Carnifex"] allowed her son, to climb on his shoulders. The realization shocked in waves. He would do no harm to her child.

“I see, Maggi... Not everyone gets to climb a mountain, what do you say?” Kaine Zambrano would never harm her child. Not hers… others, so many children both young and old destroyed by his hand or whim, but hers? Surely not hers. Whatever magic continued to bring the Dark Lord and Mand’alor to terms expanded to her young.

“Thank you, Mountain.” Magnus’ arms reached around Carnifex’s neck and hugged the monstrous Sith Lord before Kaine lifted him off. “Awww, bye planet. I’ll see you when I’m taller. Buir, did you see?”

“You were the most brave boy in the galaxy. And the most grateful?” Amber eyes flashed from Carnifex to her son, lowering on her haunches to give the boy’s hair a gentle brush and forehead a kiss. He grinned up at his mother, hopping up on his tip toes to try and grow right this minute. Maybe if he tried really hard. It bought her time.

“Mantis… nobody has been brave enough to call me by my dar’buir’s name in years. Your boldness never ceases to amaze… not that it surprises me.” Straight to the core of her. The genetic beginning.

A plinth of rock which hummed of deep magics loomed before the Dark Lord and the Mand’alor. As silent as a gravestone of which rain and time battered the etching away.

One monumental hand.

The hand which, raised into a fist, destroyed solar systems. The hand which clenched, held the lightsaber that ended thousands of lives. The hand, which stroked sweat-damp hair out of Yasha’s face under Kaas City, when the icy cold, and the Ymir’s hallucinogenic poisonous blood coursed through her. The hand, which gripped and battled her. Not often did Yasha see a hand larger than her own. As she clenched and unclenched her fingers, watching how her fist bumped against her belly, the Mand’alor’s eyes closed.

Must she journey perpetually backward, to the place of her many beginnings? The desecrated landscapes and demonic froths that destroyed millions in their agonies?

“I just got Mother back…” A whisper on the muggy breeze. What would the Netherworld be like, without her mother a constant drone in her ears, pressing and moulding her, forcing her constantly to face nothing but the next in a litany of tasks ahead? [member="Cassiopeia Caranthyr"] rushed them, Yasha’s best friend knowing more than any other what the Netherworld did to her friend.

How many midnight conversations did they have, sitting around Yasha’s table with endless mugs of stim-caf and soft conversation while their children slept in the same few rooms? No, Cassie was the best of her. The humane and warm side of the Infernal…

… and she sprinted to stop her from returning to the place of their many beginnings. [member="Darth Prazutis"]’ eldricht horrors bathed the field around poor Cassie, a shadow eternal.

“I’m going home... just for a minute. Take Maggi and Girak-Kaine for me, Cass? We’ll be fine.” Yasha searched [member="Darth Carnifex"]’s eyes. Her fingers folded around his.

Too late. Yasha turned to see the Warlock Gate close round with its’ fissure of emerald energy, as she took Kaine Zambrano’s hand, and disappeared in the Dark.

Magnus hopped into [member="Cassiopeia Caranthyr"]’s arms, as the throbbing untameable horrors of Braxus Zambrano soaked the air. The boy stared wide-eyed into the elder dark.

“Ba’vodu Cassiopeia? The other mountain looks maaaaad...”

 

[Darth Carnifex]

And thus they passed through the barrier.

Bands of light intermixed in an incandescent in a display of incomprehensible complexity, nearly blinding to look upon but incapable of looking away from. Spatial distortion warped them as the grasslands and crimson sky of Dathomir melted away, replaced by an endless wasteland of gravity distortion and near-constant Dark Side storms. It was a landscape that the Sith Emperor had known well, the Mand'alor even more, their combined experiences drawing them closer together than any other.

"You never really get used to it, the transition."

There he stood, the Dark Lord of the Sith, silhouetted against a backdrop of sensory insanity and lucid euphoria. His tall, powerful, and prideful figure cut quite the intimidating shape, himself utterly unconcerned with the ever-twisting nature of the Netherworld around him. "But I did not bring you here to admire the scenery, we have many things to discuss, don't we?"

[member="Yasha Cadera"]​

 

[Yasha Cadera]

“Mmgh… Kaine, my eyes.” Yasha’s voice lilted softly in their mutual mother tongue, as with no others present she had no cause but to speak in her first language of Epicant. The hand she took to cross the boundary was the hand she momentarily clung to for balance. The light refused to be turned from. Thus, the girl whose eyes were sensitive to light, was temporarily blinded.

Yasha had no cause but to trust [member="Darth Carnifex"], until her eyes once more adjusted to the gloom of her naturalized home.

“Never. Feels like part of the schtick. The Netherworld always knows how to throw us off kilter.” Yet, the horrors of the Nether seemed miles off. Disparate and fleeting. Eyes adjusted in as fickle a manner as the Chaos.

Carnifex was first to clear. The only stability in the conglomerate horror of the grotesque. He would always be first to clear in this place, as he was when Yasha was an infant in her mother’s birikad. Aditya’s one focal point, other than the few ragged survivors, who clung together, was the God-King she knew from Panatha.

The devil of all sagas. The Dark Lord, first Vornskyr then Carnifex. Life outside the Nether was as distant a dream as it seemed now. Her unclad lips tasted the tang of blood and ash, ears discovering the muffled and distant cacophony of hellspawn and stricken souls in chorus.

Her eyes continued to adjust. A rock bashed in… fist-marks in the surface.

‘Kaden… you tried so hard. You tried so hard to love me like I needed…’ The Rue levelled them all and now, back in her personal despair with the God-King of depraved Sith Lordship, Yasha saw how small they’d been.

“… I was a child… such a small child…” The billowing dust and slag of Sinner’s Rue enclosed them. Washed round them, and Yasha’s fingers stuck around Carnifex’s hand.

No letting go… he’d be lost if they let go. Lost in a hell of his own ever increased creation.

‘Nothing about you is weak, Yasha…’ The still, mighty basso of Carnifex’s voice sliced through the gloom of her fogged and hallucinogenically marred memory of Kaas City.

Without her mother entombed in its infamy, the Netherworld lost its ability to harm its’ once denizen. It became but a place she knew. A place of beginning,

after beginning,

after beginning.

“We must get out of the Rue… lest it swallow us in individual Hells… and as much as it might humour me to see you in Jetiise robes, the idea of you breaking Hell again is… follow me.” The hand which was taken became the hand in which she led the Dark Lord through the gloom. Hidden and intuited pathways built into rock and chaos and myth, navigated by the illogical mind of once-Yasha Mantis.

She slid past ghoulish horrors, defeating others with the confidence of wars reviled and celebrated beneath her slim years. Soon, they came upon a circle of stone.

Massive footwells in char.

“You sat there… when Mama saw you. She always told it, making a fire of bones to keep us warm. Didn’t matter if our bellies were empty, she’d rock me in her arms and tell me what it was like, when she saw you… God-King. Zambrano’s heir and Panatha’s sovereign. If you defeated the Nether, so could I. Funny how now I see what she was doing… promising me a future, while knowing she could never go back. I never knew my mother bartered her life like seed in a farmer’s drought… but we sat here. This outcropping, it… fit.”

Voice fading, Yasha looked at the relatively tiny outcropping of stone her mother @Aditya Fitz-Kierke pushed her into, each time she needed rest. Dumping the body of a netherworldly beast in the middle of the stones, Yasha flicked a spark and lit it on fire.

“… said part of you never left… and the Zambranos were first and always protectors of Epicanthix Citizens, so if I listened, and stayed silent and learned everything she taught me… I could move the Chaos like you did.

I could go free…” The collection of rocks wasn’t large enough for an adult to sit within. Yasha let go of Carnifex’s hand, and slumped down in the spot her mother’d taken, guarding the most precious of cargos she had.

“… part of us never leaves… yes, Kaine. We’re not finished. Not nearly… We haven’t spoken in five years, Kaine. Five. Last thing I did was mess your face… and when Mandalore needed it, you came without hesitation.

I realize the strategic and religious import of Dathomir. The Warlock Gate joining your other ventures… but... There are… visions of Kaas… flickers I think are memories, or hallucinations or… lies.” Her eyes glanced anywhere but the flames. To his boots. His hands. The endless chaotic ephemera roiling round them.

“Alex would tell me I and my Mandos are fodder in your war machine. A southern line of defence you don’t have to repair… She healed me after Kaas. Shared her memories… am I lucky or just too stupid to understand how differently you treat your enemies, than you’ve ever treated me?

You confuse me.”

 

[Darth Carnifex]

He stood silent as she talked, regaling him with her experiences surviving in the tumultuous cacophony of the Netherworld with her mother. Carnifex suppressed a laugh, when he was busying himself with escaping the Netherworld after destroying his vengeful mother and father he had not given any thought as to whether or not his self-serving exploits were inspiring any of the lost souls around him. He had only been concerned with his own escape, his own salvation from what was assuredly the Hell of a thousand different religions.

Yet nothing happened by coincidence, not when the Force was involved. Naturally, the future was always in motion and destiny never set in stone, but certain things were always meant to happen regardless of how time ebbed and flowed around them. Anchoring rocks in the midst of a rushing rapid.

"This Alex would not be totally incorrect," he said after a time of silence, his dark voice rumbling in the gloom. "Your people are to be tools, just like my people are tools. A strong and just ruler knows that the people who serve your every will are just cogs in the machine, essential; yes, but replaceable if necessary. They are the pawns in which we play a galaxy-sized version of Chess with the rulers of every other nation, that is how it has always been and how it will always be. The difference is, whereas I would use my pawns to fight a war of destruction against the Republic and the Alliance whenever I could, I would use my pawns to strengthen and support those who stand on my side of the board."

"But for a time, your pawns stood off to the side of the board. Not truly against me but neither truly with me as well, and that made playing the great game all the more difficult. The shifting mob-think of your people ever tipping the scales between cooperation and annihilation. Even now there are those under your purview who will continue to antagonize and harry those under mine, going unpunished as they do because of your culture's proclivity for irresponsible individuality. Those who step out of line under my command do not enjoy such luxuries, I do not tolerate it."

He reached out, summoning a small stone to his hand which he turned end over end with the Force. "Yet, I believe that the coming conflict will free both of us of those who defy our authority. No longer will there be any room to not choose a side, the lines will be drawn and the galaxy will be pulled into a great conflagration. The wheel turns again, and I intend to remain on top." He let the stone drop to the ground, "You and I can no longer afford to stand in opposition, we will both be destroyed if that continues to occur."

[member="Yasha Cadera"]​

 

[Aedan Miles]

Aedan pushed himself up from his seat a small almost bored grin on his lips as he strode forward coming to a stop before the goliath that is [member="Darth Prazutis"] his mismatched eyes gleaming as he looked up at the mans face. Finally his grin broadened into a smirk as he offered a mix of polite and mocking bow as he finally spoke showing a mix of respect but lack of fear. "Tell me one of whispers what do you have to say about me hmm? Many would claim I am a risk that should be dealt with. Others an asset that is untapped. I wonder what it is the hierarchy of The Sith Empire believe about me. So if you would please indulge the curiosities of a mere King of Pirates I would be most humbled by this." He grinned calmly and confidently as he stood before one of the most powerful beings in the galaxy in the past he had fought for and against them on multiple occasions but never once was it because of any actions against him or his people. No these were merely business deals in the past and he truly was curious he knew what many a government in the galaxy thought about him and just how many sought to see him either dead or behind bars.

 

[Yasha Cadera]

“This Alex is Alexandra Feanor, and I know you know her well.”

The wickedness around them affected not the Infernal or her companion. It was a hum in the back of her mind. The hairs on her neck rising in tandem with dangers, which flocked around, but not upon the Mand’alor and the Emperor.

In another time, [member="Darth Carnifex"] was the voice of reason in her life. The one person, who stepped up and taught her the nature of Command, aside from her adopted father Gray. She stood in his personal space, forced a handshake. A deal. How young she was then, freshly from the Netherworld and demanding Mandalore’s freedom from the Sith.

From Ra’s shadow, controlled by Carnifex’s hand.

“My pawns had enough trouble with their bedfellows. We needed to gain a better position, Kaine. Rebuild. Yes, I kept my Mandalorians out of as many battles as possible, and I did it freely. I knew if the average household on Manda’yaim could not afford bread made from their own thinned crops, we had no business spending billions of credits on wars which benefited us little to nothing at all. Only with a strong defensive position, and an export economy in lieu of the imported foodstuffs and aide we had, when I first took command, could we rise. I make no apologies for our period of insulation and quiet expansion. Nor do I apologize for the resources spent on terraforming and agriculture in lieu of guns.” Often those, who viewed the Infernal forgot how she was trained. They saw a leader afraid of battle, when instead she refused to entice riot and squabble, when the time had not yet come for the Mandalorians to once more turn toward a Crusade.

One she knew was upon them, and one she knew they would fight when they were ready.

“Those who caused trouble, were punished for it… Kaine, I tried so hard to entreat with the Silver Jedi, with the Republic and those peoples, who band together as bastions of the Light. They either misunderstood my intentions, or groped behind my back. I realized they would see the Mandalorians as nothing but suspicious neighbours peering over the fence to see when best to raid their gardens. Or as a front line force to use, instead of sending their own. Those beings, who reputed themselves as denizens of grace had none for me. None for mine. Aloof and distant, they continued to pull an apology for our and my past, to receive a grovelling woman crying at their feet.

You’ve never asked me to kneel, for you know I won’t do it. You’ve never asked for Mandalorians to bow and grovel and apologize for being who and what we are. All these years… I’ve tried so hard to hate you for what you did to Commenor. To my Aunt. I tried to be what others made of me, and yet here we are. When we called for aid, their voices were silent. Their fingers stilled. You stepped once again into our lives, and offered a hand.” She watched the rock in his hands vault end over end. Seeing the cycle of war and peace as it was in the Galaxy from whence they hailed. Over and over. The same tricks, the same angers binding reason from peoples’ emotional heads.

“Mandalorians are individual by default. I’ve long learned it’s more about pointing them in a direction and seeing the results, than precision-commands. I will not always be Mand’alor. But while I am, you know Mandalore stands beside you. You’ve long since earned our loyalty, even when my People continued to bite at your skin like gnats in a hungry fog. If I executed every Mandalorian, who exercised their freedom of will, I would be a lonely Monarch sitting on a throne with a handful of citizens left over. Mandalorians choose their Mand’alor. I have no divine right to rule, like you.” The stone fell. Enemies defeated in the causal chains of their mutual minds. Yasha stood and brushed off, walking to him, to stand inches away from his barrel chest. Her eyes traced the scars she left on his face, hand touching the crescent-shaped scar he left on hers.

“I stood against you, and you still came to my defence. I railed against your efforts, and you showed me nothing but mercy. If this is to work, we shall have to stand against our mutual enemies. Yours and mine. In the end, when the gore has dried to dust, and the dead are burned on their pyres, my People will survive. Our ways will survive. Panatha will be strong, the Sith will have their domination, and the Mandalorians will spread.

“And when I can be assured that my People thrive, the Mandalorians will release me from this bond. I’ll plant a garden and study botany and raise my children… travel to the green places of this galaxy. I’ll be free.” A quiet and secret relief swept through the Epicanthix beauty, as she listened to the hymn of degradation, which remained in the Netherworld. Her smile grew soft, a seldom displayed intimacy of ideal that she dare not share even with her spouses. Even with her wife.

“Tell me I can trust you. Tell me you won’t flip the coin on our mutual stand, and at the end of this new galactic war, we shall stand united. Give me a secret. So I might divine the truth and the dross in either hand. We have danced too long around this to allow mutual destruction through lack of trust. Now’s the time. You’re right, now is the time to stand united.”