Out Of This World (The Witchmasters)

[Ashin Varanin]

​

Temple of the Dark Underlord​

Malrev IV​

Clan Rekali territory​

​

"The Sith designed their pyramidal temples to focus the power of the Force at the apex point." Ember gestured around at the meeting chamber, all red crystal and black stone. "This particular temple was an administrative center for a galaxy-wide Sith movement. A throne room writ large. Plenty of room for all of us, and power to spare." He'd opted not to sit on the throne, at least not for this meeting.

"Records from that particular era are fragmentary at best. The Ruusan period shredded them. We know much more about a few older dynasties, oddly enough. Our information on the time of the Dark Underlord, around twenty-five hundred years ago, mostly comes down to guesswork. Sources differ. Most of them, however, agree that he came from Chaos itself. The veil is thin here -- you know we had to banish or subjugate various Sith shades to take ownership of this temple. That quality, amplified by the temple's power, will give us enough strength to take an unprecedented step.

"The galaxy is crammed full of pocket universes, niche planes, and alternate states of being. The Chiloon monolith where Alec spent so long -- the Gates of Grontessiant -- Otherspace -- Beyond Shadows -- Chaos itself -- the Dathomiri Spirit Realm -- clearly this 'verse is more than meets the eye. I'd submit to you that many worlds, perhaps all worlds, have a dual nature. Dathomir has the Spirit Realm, inhabited by totemic spirits and elementals. Skako has the Gates of Grontessiant. A certain world in the Maw has portions of Beyond Shadows, including certain places that exist in both realms. Many of you know the Nightsister stealth art -- the ritual using Water of Life, the ritual that shoves you halfway into the Spirit Realm.

"I think that this temple can offer us the opportunity for research. I think we can find a way to explore, conquer, and colonize the other side, in the flesh, at least on certain worlds. I've brought twenty gallons of Water of Life and assorted ritual implements. Speak now or forever hold your peace."

[member="Alaric D'Lessio"], [member="Anija Betna"], [member="Asemir Lor'kora"], [member="Cennika Hawk"], [member="Daedel"], [member="Deneve Verd"], [member="Dralos"], [member="Edison Bulkhead"], [member="Eirlys Verd"], [member="Isley Verd"], [member="Fable Merrill"], [member="Fabula Caromed"], [member="Falcon Gyndar"], [member="Iegoris Verd"], [member="Imogen Blanche"], [member="Kaeda Vevut"], [member="Kass Zyn'meshurok"], [member="Lilith Engelis"], [member="Loxa Visl"], [member="Mia Monroe"], [member="Morgana Belcourt"], [member="Naimes Ahn-Dross"], [member="Ostanes"], [member="Skye Mertaal"], [member="Spencer Varanin"], [member="Tia Laveau"], [member="TiCira D'Arr Hawk"], [member="Avo"]

 

[Kytarra Hawk]

[member="Ember Rekali"]


Thunk.

Thunk.

Thunk.


Each thud of the staff tip would give a slight resonance upon the ground. The tiny, almost seemignly frail-like crone of a woman would amble in the back, until she came to a halt of decorative leathers and beads. Her thick white dreadlocks held bits of bone, metal, and stone. A few feathers and the rattles of snake would quiver along the staff, held by ribbons of sinew. The Allyan shamans' milk white eyes would peer not onto the gathering of Clan Rekali and Witch Masters, but to what lay beyond.

That seemingly filmsi thin skin upon her hand would curl around the Maalraas bone of her staff. The ridge of her brows narrowed, and upon yonder she saw the taint that lay within.

Yes, much death, darkness, and despair dwelled there. Well beyond this realm of life and onto the beyond.

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Kytarra Hawk"]

Ember's eyes narrowed in pleased consideration as the Singing Mountain witch made her appearance. The Witchmasters fought for Dathomir's interests, but didn't always agree on methodology. In the end, neither he nor Isley cared whether their associates followed Allyan teachings, Nightsister heritage, or a bit of both. The Witch Kings made no such demands; they acted, and if others wanted to join them in any given action, so be it. So it pleased Ember quite a bit to see a Hawk come along for this. If voices within the Witchmasters were to have opposed this course of action, he'd imagined those voices would have congealed around Kytarra and her clan sisters. Perhaps such opposition would come in time; perhaps in years or minutes. He included them in his welcome nonetheless, and began the ritual. He began to walk a slow circle around the apex chamber's perimeter, leaving a trail of Water of Life from a pitcher. The viscous green substance glowed with spirit ichor, surrounding him and all those present.

"The root of this visit to the spirit realm," he said, "is the stealth technique that places a witch half in that world and half in this. One foot on each side of the veil. That's the precedent which allows us to take that step together -- and where one step has been taken, the Mind Walkers inform us that another step can follow. And we'll see what we shall see."

As the presence of the other side grew stiflingly close, a chant began.

Why, what should be the fear?​

I do not set my life in a pin's fee;​

And for my soul, what can it do to that,​

Being a thing immortal as itself?​

It waves me forth again: I'll follow it.​

​

My fate cries out,​

And makes each petty artery in this body​

As hardy as the Nemean lion's nerve.​

Still am I call'd. Unhand me, gentlemen.​

By heaven, I'll make a ghost of him that lets me!​

Ember threw the pitcher in the air; it shattered, spraying the whole chamber with glowing green droplets. And the world began to fade.

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Ostanes had been silent, quiet, and reserved as he waited and watched. The hjarna stone staff in his hand shone faintly with a sickening glow, pulsing weakly on occasion as Obeah spoke into his mind. Witch techniques and the like were similar to the Arcane spells and rituals from his grimoire he had from Korriban. Perhaps the best dressed, he stood in a tailored suit of tiger hide and vornskr leather, black on black on black. A strong, broad face in dreadlocks with various coins and talismans secured from the locks.

Overall, there was a dangerous aura of unease about him, and a gleam in his eyes that was not quite right. Something was different. Overall the eyes drew attention with their almost glowing yellow-orange tinge. The cold smile frozen on his lips was certainly disconcerting. Crossing his arms, he waited slightly. As the pitcher broke and the world faded, he had time for a moment of panic. This was unwise, and quite honestly dangerous. He had no idea how or what this would do to Obeah and his' bond.

As his psyche swam, the voice of the presence he had bound into the staff grew louder, but not less disembodied. Opening his eyes, the Alchemist saw a ghostly trace of smoke circling his head with flashes of red discharge about it as Obeah spoke. It was clear that the thing was disembodied, but much more potent than where they had came from. Either way, the end verdict was the bond held, but at times it required a much more focused and narrow mind to keep it pushed back and subverted to his will.

"What is this devilry?"

[member="Kytarra Hawk"] | [member="Ember Rekali"]

 

[Edison Bulkhead]

Edison had turned up at [member="Ember Rekali"] 's request; after the training on talismans the man clearly had great knowledge to share. She listened attentively as he explained the Sith temples and his plan to use the Dathomir Witch's Water of Life to access a separate dimension. Such sorcery was beyond her imagination, though since joining the Witchmasters her imagination seemed to be expanding exponentially.

Then Ember threw the pitcher into the air and Edison watched as fiery jade seemed to turn to smoke before her eyes, along with the rest of the temple chamber and its visitors. She centered herself, focusing her mind as she'd been taught, harnessing the energy of her emotions and drawing upon their strength as she prepared for whatever was to happen next.

[member="Ostanes"] [member="Kytarra Hawk"]

 

[Cennika Hawk]

Years prior, she would have given practices of this ilk a very wide berth, skirting them out of fear of the legacy into which she had been born. It was because of that inheritance and other reasons that she had watered the dirt with her mother's blood to put an end to the woman's machinations of vengeance upon her cousin, Satara. The ensuing years saw the raven-haired girl withdraw more and more, practising only the productive work of her hands and eschewing the magic of her people, a desire so deep to cut herself off from the well that for her was most certainly poisoned; a desire that drove her to leave, relocating to Myrkr where she could manage on her lonesome with ease in its jungles, and have exactly what she believed she wanted.

The years provided much in the way of time to think, time to reason and make distance from the legacy of all the women before her. A shift of her perspective occurred, the solitude fostering a mindset of necessity. It was this woman that Naimes found, and being brought into his orbit made Cennika's view shift accordingly. While she could be kind, and often was, doing wrong by those tethered to her stripped away any of that kindness when it came to the offenders. No tool, no magic was verboten in this. There was nothing she wouldn't do. The session with the talismans touched upon her skills and interests enough to draw her to take up more of whatever it was the 'Witch King' had on offer.

It was on the other Hawk that her eyes rested as the chant ran its course, curious as to the ashen-haired woman's presence in this gathering, when the very world around them faded away, jolting her and bringing her wide-eyed into the height of her awareness, stopping just short of pulling free one of the blades on her person. Her world had been one of the undeniably corporeal, where a sharp dragged across flesh yielded blood and pain. So far removed from the ways of her people had she been. She was tense, but running through a mental checklist of sorts eased her and grounded her. This was unfamiliar, but so was Felucia, and that experience was counted in the top of her memories. She would be fine.

It would have been better if Naimes were here. Of that she was convinced, in nearly every situation.

​

[member="Edison Bulkhead"] | [member="Ostanes"] | [member="Kytarra Hawk"] | [member="Ember Rekali"]​

 

[Kytarra Hawk]

[member="Cennika Hawk"] [member="Edison Bulkhead"] @Ostanes @Ember Rekali

While seemingly blind, Kytarra's filmy white eyes would narrow.

One did not need to have vision of the eyes to have true sight. No, that came from another force, another sense of energy. The use of the Water of Life was not unfamiliar to the shaman.

No, the employment of Spirit Ichor was not unknown to her.

Gnarled fingers would briefly tighten around her staff. Kytarra was here for in so much her own curiosity as well of the pull of the spirits. Times were changing, and in it, she could feel it reverberate up and down the lifelines of the currents within the Spirit world as well as that of the present. It would thrum much like the pulsing of her own life'sblood within her veins.

But what would come of it?

 

[Ashin Varanin]

@Ostanes@Edison Bulkhead[member="Cennika Hawk"][member="Kytarra Hawk"]

"The veil is thin here. This place is strong, and the ritual feels sound enough. Between those factors...ah, here we are."

The temple-apex chamber faded away, leaving them at the peak of a hill. They looked out over a dark and blasted landscape that impressed itself more on the mind than on the physical senses. In the Force, the place felt raw, quiet, like a wound almost done bleeding out. Emotions were heightened here. People looked more like their symbolic, spiritual selves.

Gravestones surrounded the bleak hill, and shades rose from the earth. The Sith of twenty-five centuries past.

Ember toyed with talismans in his hair. "Stand firm. Bind or destroy as you see fit."

 

[Amun]

A cousin if the renowned [member="Isley Verd"] and member of House Verd made an appearance when one of the Witch Kings had summoned every Witch and Warlock for a special meeting. The bulky Verd knew that his cousin shared a friendship between the two, or at least he though since they both shared equal power between the two among this particular, unique faction of odd people. And theses odd people were quite distinctive due to their particular fields of magick. For Iegoris, he was just an adept in these arts but he had some skills and merits due to his time being around some maigick wielders within his house. He was not sure if Isley was here, but he would come nonetheless to what Ember had in store.

After listening to the Witch King's speech the Mandalorian, in his heavy armor, was amused by the thought of entering a spirit realm. He never had the chance on doing so, and was expecting for his eyes to be amaze of what scenery he and the other witches would be greeted with. After doing the ritual chants and having the water rain on him reality soon began to fade as he was about to enter another dimension.

As the veil of the Spirit World lifted itself the Conscript found himself at the peak of a hilltop, with the others, which overlooked a land that seemed like a wasteland. He could feel a lot souls lingering in this area and noticed that tombs surrounded him and his companions. From the mystical earth he saw the figures of the Sith arising to deal with the nuisance that disturbed their slumber.

As Ember spoke out to the group, the Initiate readied himself for what looked to be a hell of a fight.

[member="Ember Rekali"], [member="Kytarra Hawk"], [member="Cennika Hawk"], [member="Edison Bulkhead"], [member="Ostanes"]

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Iegoris Verd"] [member="Ostanes"] [member="Isley Verd"] [member="Cennika Hawk"] [member="Kytarra Hawk"] [member="Edison Bulkhead"]

THE SPIRIT PLANE

Visiting the spirit plane in the flesh was an exercise in oversensitization. Colors were brighter, what few colors this landscape offered; the Witchmasters stood taller; their powers burned sharper; the shadows were deeper than their physical-world equivalents. And the spirits were more substantial.

Half-corporeal claws raked Ember right through his armour, leaving the beskar oddly bright and piercing the flesh beneath. Not just the flesh, either. He felt more pain than the wound should have delivered, pain that went into his spirit somehow. Once upon a time, he would have countered with Force light, but that was entirely outside his skillset now. Instead, he wrapped the Force around his bare hands and wrapped those hands around the neck of an attacking spirit. The shade, smoking and sneering, broke and crumpled within its veil. He knelt and slammed the spirit to the blasted earth until it melted into cracked soil. Another grabbed his head from behind -- a migraine lanced through him -- and heturned to spit in its face with all the rage he could muster. The spit pierced through the amorphous shade, leaving an outline of soulfire. Ember rammed his hand through the gap and ripped the shade apart in a cloud of black mist. Its strength was siphoned into amulets and talismans woven in his hair and clothes.

 

[Julius Sedaire]

​

THE SPIRIT PLANE​

The spirits seemed to swirl around him, chuckling and cackling. For whatever reason it was, they never quite touched him. As he looked down at his hands, he began to have an inkling of what it might be. Whereas before Obeah had been an incorporeal cloud of shimmering black mist, the situation had changed quite to the opposite. The longer he stayed on this plane, it would seem, the more blurred the line between the two minds would become.

His staff had seemed to vanish, becoming a part of him, his skin was ashen. His eyes were ink black, with tiny pin-pricks of white light as pupils being the only difference. As he saw Ember assaulted, a fury not his own welled up within him, and his skin felt as if on fire. Sight seemed to shift, the shades growing sharper in focus than his fellow Witchmasters. Reading had told him of this in various texts. Why it had happened now he could only guess. But the power of the 'Third Eye', or Force Sight and Force Sense.

Reaching within himself, he felt the Force, or 'magic' boil within him, coming to his commands. Paecian wasn't his native tongue, but knowledge had begun to be exchanged in between he and his bound companion. This was Force-Walk, the skill he had researched for weeks. It was as much of his practice, and made his own. It was a risk to bind a spirit to himself, and not an object, but he would try. Finding a shade that looked particularly omnious, his mind lashed out.

Struggles were had. But eventually he contained the struggling shade within him, and felt a flood of strength, which he unleashed in a torrent of Force Lightning. It was hardly his specialty, but it was the most well suited to his needs. He needed a clear space to work, to encant and cast his spells and do his work. A scattered bolt of energy struck around Ember, in an effort to give the Witch-King breathing room to collect himself. Rising from the ground, the Maven surveyed his scene, seeking other targets to destroy with his new-found power.

[member="Kytarra Hawk"] | [member="Ember Rekali"] | [member="Iegoris Verd"] | [member="Kytarra Hawk"] | [member="Cennika Hawk"] |

 

[Amun]

The Spirit Plane

The shadow of some spirits began to surround the bulky Mandalorian and mocked him as they surrounded him. If there was one thing that Iegoris despised was being mocked, taunted, and made fun of. He wasn't about to allow some spirits of some long deceased sentient call him names and make fun of him. Not on his watch, that's for sure. It was probably a bad thing that this rage and aggressiveness got the best out of him and led him to tight situations and corners that would gain him some bruises, cuts, and what not injuries. His beskad was unsheathed and the Conscript charged at one of the spirits and swung his beskad horizontally. He missed as it did some maneuvers which led him vulnerable from an attack from behind. Claws pierced through his heavy beskar'kandar and leaving a mark on his back. If this was reality, then it wouldn't have hurt more than it did now. His teeth bit down and made groaning noise as the attack pierced his body and his spirit. He turned and, again, swung his beskad at the legs of the spirit which succeeded this time. As the spirit fell on its knees the right knee of Iegoris slammed into the face of it which made it go on its back. He finished the job by having both of his hands at the spirit's face and began to tear it up apart with the little knowledge he had of magick.

The face then turned into a cloud of black mist. He stood firm again with his beskad ready, waiting to see what to do next.

[member="Ostanes"], [member="Ember Rekali"], [member="Kytarra Hawk"], [member="Cennika Hawk"], [member="Edison Bulkhead"]

 

[Edison Bulkhead]

Edison quelled a sense of panic as the spirits rose, swirling and dancing like macabre ghosts of energy. As one of the shades closed on her, she saw past it as [member="Ember Rekali"] took on two of his own, focusing his energies to draw on the Force and fight back. She could feel the hate pouring off of the spirit as it descended upon her, whispering lies, filling her head with confusion. Its claws raked her, rending both the light armor she wore and the sweat-soaked shirt beneath, leaving flesh exposed and bleeding.

But Edison had strength of her own. She'd been trained by the Witches of Dathomir and the Witchmasters both, and she didn't fear the dead. "Wisps of memory," she snarled at the ghost. "And less. Forgotten until we found you. We're so much more than you." She grabbed the wraith by its floating head and sank her thumbs into its eye sockets. "Back to the earth with you!" She squeezed, and the ghost's head crumpled like a soft drink can in her hands.

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Iegoris Verd"] [member="Ostanes"] [member="Isley Verd"] [member="Cennika Hawk"] [member="Kytarra Hawk"] [member="Edison Bulkhead"]

Breathing hard, hands dripping with ectoplasm, Ember came to a halt. The dark hilltop lay barren, ghosts fading into the black dirt. Motion stirred between the tombstones down in the valley, then went silent. A retreat.

"That's right," he snarled, knuckles cracking. "Back into memory, shades."

He let out a shuddering breath and leaned on one of the great stones that ringed the hilltop. They'd serve well enough as a perimeter once he carved them into Watchers and filled the gaps with crypt markers. The power he'd channeled, awakened, harvested began to flow into the amulets and talismans woven in his hair.

"This place will do well enough as a fortified beachhead. From here, we can explore -- out into the dark -- and find what there is to find. Somehow I doubt a planet's spirit world is completely homogeneous. Even less so, on a world like Dathomir...or Coruscant. The better we know the spirit realm, the more options and secrets we'll discover."

 

[Julius Sedaire]

As Ember laid out his plan, Ostanes wasted not a moment of his time. The stones he would leave for now, bare and untouched. Instead of inscribing them, he walked among them, chanting in a high and cold voice. As he spoke, he bent here and there between the jagged stone-caps. Each bend his hand traced out. The peculiarities of this realm on a bound being like him seem to be growing more natural as he worked. At each spot, he scooped aside some earth, adding a trio of blood droplets before scattering loose soil back over it and scratching runic sith spells on the ground where he had bled.

Nothing extreme was empowered, merely wards against the spirits that plagued this plane. Hasty, and a shade crude, but they would keep out all but the determined. Those that did manage to break through would be quite displeased at the cost, as he stood in approximately the center, chanting for a second. A further trio of blood-drops where he stood, and then he buried something from within his robes, an odd sachet. A bit of Dathomirian spellcasting he was learning.... The wards were essentially now all linked and tied to his mind. If he were close enough, he would have a sense of this place, and of any or all that were in it, for at least a few days.

Turning to the others, he merely nodded, ashen face inscrutable, and stood with an inward looking gaze, thinking. No doubt Ember or the others would make the decision. For now, he was searching for other spirits, or anything that might prove of use back in the corporeal realm. Empty bottls, pouches, tools and more were secreted about his person. No self-respecting Alchemist ever went anywhere without something of the sort on him, just in case. Abruptly, and again without asking, he strolled over to Ember and used a pale-bladed instrument, like an herbalists' knife, to scrape ectoplasm off the armor into an empty vial. As it slid in, he quickly corked it. Twisted runes flared on the glass, a minor charm of stasis to slow decay until they returned.

"Knowledge springs from forgotten places, Clan-Father. Your forgiveness"

This time, he had the grace to look at Ember with a grin as he held the vial up before his face, curiosity evident in his eyes.

[member="Kytarra Hawk"] | [member="Ember Rekali"] | [member="Iegoris Verd"] | [member="Kytarra Hawk"] | [member="Cennika Hawk"] | [member="Edison Bulkhead"]