Red Fates

[Darth Ophidia]

MAENA
The Wasteland.

We noticed the subject during a local slave revolt. It took us some time to sift through the exaggerations, but she appears to have slain Ojenko as well as several other slaves vying for the honour. Then she claimed his prized mask. She is no doubt force-sensitive. Iridonia has supplied us with Sith Warriors for ages, one example being example Lord Lykos. She is still situated on Iridonia, but my guess is she will seek out the Sith Empire in search of greater power.

"Well done, Darth Filiae. I will have this matter sorted out."

As the holotransmission ended, the ashen-skinned Sith leaned forward in her chair, her fingers intertwining under her nose as she considered the information she had received. The fingers of her black left hand tapped the knuckles of her pale right, dancing in a rythm no one heard, then fell still.

"Iridonia then."

A ship left Maena that night, bound for Iridonia.


-̊̇͌̽-ͦͪ҉-́-̓̌̎͒-͞-ͥ̇͊͗-̄̐̈̃̃ͥ̚-́̀-̒̅̈̈́--ͭ͐ͫͫ͐͗-̴-ͮ͗̄̉ͬ̄

IRIDONIA
Wortan.

Water always felt more quenching on Iridonia than it did elsewhere. Darth Ophidia took a long drink from her canteen and popped the lid back on. The sun beat down from above in waves of sweltering heat and she mused again, as she had before, that the insistent heat was what drove the Iridonians to such madness. Clearly, their brains had cooked in the heat. Not that she was a stranger to heat herself. Her homeworld of Rattatak was as warm as this, and as barren. Hard worlds made hard people, and they made good Sith.

She waited now, for one of her informants to return after investigating a sighting of this former slave with the porcelain mask, this Sith to be. Ophidia had watchers in every spaceport, looking for the right person. Of course, they couldn't just walk up and ask. These were professionals, they watched from afar.

This world was far from the Empire, yet the Sith held a strong presence here through shadowy organisations with interests in its people. Now, Ophidia hoped to receive word of this fledgling Sith and expedite her path to the dark side, and to the Sith.

So the Queen of Shadows waited, like the serpents in the sand. She waited for [member="Sinya"] to show herself.

 

[Sinya]

IRIDONIA
Wortan

Sinya knew that the success of the uprising was bound to send more than simply tremors through the underworld of Iridonia and beyond. Ojenko had been a prominent figure in the community and was a frequent sight in both the slave and smuggling markets. With the pocket of power now empty for whoever to grasp, lesser and greater warlords and gang leaders alike fought for both his spot and contacts in the closely coveted community. None of these really bothered or concerned her.

She had not killed him to usurp his position, she did so to carve up a path for her to forge her path to success, and this was merely the beginning. She had thoughts of leaving her homeworld, catching a rideoffworld to one of the Sith Empire worlds hoping to somehow find her way into the Empire and thus the dark side and be one of the Sith. She had every opportunity to load herself with the deceased warlord’s stash of equipment, but she didn’t exactly want to burden herself with a whole lot of unnecessary weight and burden. Iridonia was a hot and arid world, and to combat the heat, she wore simply the bare minimum.

A band of black fabric covering her chest while leaving her bottom tattooed torso exposed, along with the bottom half of a robe fashioned out of the same black fabric material. A hooded cloakprotect her from the merciless glare of the sun, while the mask shielded her face. Her feet was clad in simple worn out shoes. These were clothes she had worn as a slave, but a slave she was no longer. Sinya stepped out of the shuttle the only occupant alighting at the desolate city. She’d come to Wortan to hunt for information leading to the Sith Empire and she’d heard that this very place might just be what she was looking for.

[member="Darth Ophidia"]

 

[Darth Ophidia]

"My Lord."

Darth Ophidia stepped out of her thoughtfulness and looked at the messenger. Her hairless eyebrow raised itself in an expectantly quizzical expression. Was this another request, or had they actually found something?

"We have a confirmed sighting. Red Zabrak, black clothed, white mask. Sighted at the starports leaving a shuttle. Should I-"

"Which?"

"South, my Lord."

And as soon as the word was spoken, the Rattataki stood and strode out to the balcony. She stretched her shoulders and put both hands on the railing before jumping over. As she landed, she threw her presence out into the wind like a smoke to be caught. It was dangerous, perhaps, if Jedi were to stumble on to her. But she rather believed them to have forsaken this place. Even Wurtan, the capitol of Iridonia, was protected by the shadow of Sith.

Her presence was cold, but not the pleasant cold of shade or refreshment of ice. No, it was a chill for the soul that did not let go, nor give quarter from the warmth. It was a discomforting sensation that turned eyes away. But to those who had tasted the dark side of the Force, they would experience it differently. Rather than an oppressing pressure, she would be a beacon of promise, of truth, and of power.

Was this enough to attract her?

[member="Sinya"]

 

[Sinya]

It hadn’t been long after leaving the shuttle and the spaceport before she came across something interesting. She’d been expecting to somehow find a clue to follow that would lead her to what she sought, and what Sinya found instead was something intangible yet incredibly enticing and intoxicating in more ways than one. She didn’t quite know how to describe it. It was like a feeling one felt, not entirely dissimilar to the sense of taste and smell. Was this a projection of someone’s force presence?

It had to be. She’d heard in the past that the force was something you believed in and trusted like you trusted your gut instinct. Sinya was just like a fish nibbling on the bait on the line, and she was more than content to follow if that led her to what she sought. Information about the Sith Empire. In the hot arid air, following the cold trail was like a child following a candy trail. Tasteful and unmistakable.

It was calling out to her, and who was she to reject some a tempting offer? It wouldn’t be long before she knew she would reach the end of the trail, eager to know meet the owner of this cold yet inviting presence. Eagerness was an understatement to describe how she felt. Over-eagerly excited was a much, much better term to describe how Sinya really felt.

[member="Darth Ophidia"]

 

[Darth Ophidia]

The Rattataki pulled strings of seeming, and let out a part of her that did not normally see the light of day. Meawhile, the Sith Lord herself let her form fade into obscurity. Thus, it was not the black-clad, hodded form of an ashen skinned Sith that stood in the path when Sinya finally arrived. Rather, at the end if the metaphorical treasure hunt there lay a white serpent, coiled up in the sand. Its red eyes stared at the zabrak, great intelligence glinting in those ruby orbs. A purple tongue darted in and out of its scaled lips, tasting the dry air.

One would think, by mere look alone, that this was not the one. Yet the serpent emitted the forceful presence that lured her there. Determined, the serpent rose up. Its gaze fixed on Sinya as it bared its teeth. Then, words. They came from everywhere, and nowhere at once. A husky purr of syllables strung together.

She is red of skin and dark of mind
Ji tuti rauswas iw misinis diâ jin' iw asarsi
What she seeks, that she finds.
Kam ji satchi, anas ji tsosûtaiyi
What do you seek?
Kam dari j'us satchi?

The serpent hissed, a loud and sudden sound that called to mind venom and slow, painful demise. All other sound seemed to seize, as though Iridonia itself held its breath in waiting for an answer. Or perhaps time itself stood still?

[member="Sinya"]

 

[Sinya]

As she turned the corner, Sinya came face-to-face with what she’d been looking for. She had been expecting some sort of person, a humanoid or an alien even, but all there was sitting on the ground waiting for her was a white serpent with eyes the hue of rubies. The tongue that emerged out of its mouth rapidly as it hissed was purple and for a brief moment, the Zabrak found herself caught off guard.

Time and time again, she had tried her best to always stay alert in the hopes of reducing such encounters, but time and time again, she had failed. This was such another incident to add to the list. Chiding herself for her error, she refocused back to the issue at hand. As the serpent rose up in a hostile manner, it’s ruby orbs positively glowing at her with a ferocious intensity, it bared its fangs at her, which prompt her an instinctual reaction to reach for the vibrostaff she carried on her back. However, her actions went no further. As hostile as the creature may appear to be, there was this presence about it that seemed to lack that malicious intent. This was the source of the feeling she’d felt earlier. This had to be it.

The serpent then spoke, utterings words so harshly uttered that it only confirmed her assumption that this snake was no normal snake. Sinya managed to piece words here and there among the creature’s message, and it wanted to know what she sought. Before she even had any time to craft up a reply, a loud hiss erupted from the snake that gave her a throbbing headache, as her head rang from the screech. Time, however seemed to have come to a standstill. Balling her fists as she reclaimed her resolve, she gave the serpent her answer.

“I seek the Sith. I seek victory over my enemies. I seek power.”

[member="Darth Ophidia"]

 

[Darth Ophidia]

P̀o͜w̵e͠r
M̡idw͞an
Yes
Char

The serpent seemed to lean back in a fit of hissing laughter, and every time the sound escaped it, the serpent appeared to split. First in two, then four, then eight. Each with their set of ruby eyes set in bone white scales, with purple, forked tongues. They spread, and the daylight choked. The serpents seemed to tower even higher, like pale pillars against a darkening sky.

You seek power
J'us satchi Midwan
You seek victory
J'us satchi Dirtsarias
You seek the Sith
J'us satchi ri Tsis

The chorus of serpents spoke in perfect unison, swaying in tune with a phantom wind not felt in the cold, still air. Where had the sunlight gone? Where was the heat? The world now was only dry, arrid, and robbed of all but the cold, icy void of space imposing upon a lump of dirt. Each serpent's set of eyes now looked less like rubies and more like beds of burning coals.

But what makes you worthy?
Kad kam shasona j'us ari?

And the serpents broke out in a chaos of overlapping hisses, coiling and intertwining their long, white bodies.

[member="Sinya"]

 

[Sinya]

It wasn’t long after she spoke, that the white snake replied in a fit of hissing laughter that for some reason grated on her nerves annoyingly. Sinya felt like smacking the snake there and then, sending it flying into the sky, but she knew that getting reckless and letting her emotions get the best of her was the fastest and surest way of losing everything, and she’d hadn’t come so far just to lose it all. Gritting and teeth and her balling her fists ever so tightly, the masked Zabrak continued to maintain her composure. The snake had become snakes now, splitting into eight snakes with each burst of that annoying hissing laughter. They grew in height immensely, now towering over her, their glowing ruby eyes, glaring at her with such a ferocious intensity that it was foolish to take them lightly.

The giant serpents spoke once more, repeating the items she sought in basic and another language that she didn’t exactly know. She’d been so focused on what was going on that it was only now that she realised that the stifling heat and the glare of the overbearing sun was no more. She looked at the ground to see the same dry arid ground of Iridonia, but yet it wasn’t quite the same. Sinya turned her attention back to the serpents, noticing for the first time that the glowing rubies of their eyes were now gone, replaced by that of burning coals. The serpents questioned her, asking her what makes her worthy. “Why am I if not worthy? Through the force, I have broken my chains, and I have gained strength through my passion. I overcame the odds that sought to bind me. What more do you demand of me?” The serpents began their hissing all over again, this time coiling and intertwining among themselves. For the first time in a long time, Sinya felt cold. Icy cold.

[member="Darth Ophidia"]

 

[Darth Ophidia]

Anger; Ophidia could feel it rolling off Sinya. She wanted to take action, oh yes. Acolytes lived in such little worlds, aspired to such little things. Would being called "Sith" be enough? Surely not. Sith meant perfection. Only the strongest, the quickest, the very best were suited for such a path. And among these, only a fraction would have the perseverance to call themselves Darth.

The voice did not repeat the words in the second language as much as the second language followed in the shadow of the basic.

Strike down a man and call yourself a god.
Tiwi karv zo mikn diâ doryumi kaj zo nia

Even dogs may rule over an anthill!
Its shorja kiha ririna driyi a tutkima kûrsas!

Si̵th̨ dęma͝n͟d̨ n͠othin͏g͞ l͘es͝s ҉tha̷n ̛p̢erf̛èc͘tion.
T͞sis͏ sûr̸so̕n̴a rar̛i͞à ̷z͏ûta͟w̶o͢h̸i u͢s̢ ́s҉atda͜m͡sa̕ts̀a͢.̛


She admired Sinya's spirit, and her ideas of self-worth were commonplace. Fact remained that she was a good specimen. Still, one had to take them through the procedures before giving them more power. She had neglected this step once before, only to find it to result in a sub-par apprentice with delusions of grandeur. No, this one would be made better than Mythos.

"There is a greater galaxy out there."

Ophidia herself appeared, standing behind Sinya. Her hands were clasped behind her back and her head covered by a wide hood. Robes fluttered around her in a faint mockery of wind, revealing layers of black, blue and grey. At her sides were two curved lightsabre hilts, clipped to a belt. Her voice was rasped, low, confident, and it felt different from the serpents' united voice. While Ophidia's own voice travelled through Sinya's ear, the serpents' voice did not. A smile played over the ashen-skinned woman's purple lips; wicked, almost mocking. Under the hem of her hood, one could barely see the burning irises of her eyes.

[member="Sinya"]

 

[Sinya]

The serpents spoke once more, and Sinya wondered to herself if she was being accused of calling herself a god? She did no such thing, and she didn’t wish to be a god. It was only just recently had she been a slave, one’s actions entirely beholden to her master for buying her. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t been asked to be bought. That was how the slaves and master system worked. The slaves owed their lives to their master and that was that. Now a free woman, she sought to carve a path of her own, no longer tied to the chains that once bound her. The Zabrak had started on this journey, knowing full well that it was going to be a difficult one.

She was no dog lording over any ant hill. In the situation of things, one wouldn’t be wrong to say that she wasn’t far from being one of the ants herself. She was prepared to give nothing less than perfection, but she had to start from somewhere after all, didn’t she? A new voice then spoke from behind her, and Sinya turned, taken aback by the new one.rasped, low and confident. It carried a powerful presence with it, she could feel. She didn’t need to ask to know, that this one was a Sith.

A Lord of the Sith, if the powerful presence was anymore telling. The curved lightsabers hanging at the figure’s belt only confirmed that. The acolyte spoke once more, the only answer to the Sith’s remark. “I’ll like to make my mark on this greater galaxy out there.” A lofty goal, most would say, yet somehow, wasn’t that quite the Sith way?

[member="Darth Ophidia"]

 

[Darth Ophidia]

"An old dream it is, to place one's mark upon the galaxy, upon history."

Lofty, she might think it, but it was easier than one thought. Once one had branded the galaxy, it was never enough. On the horizon, this ambition ever grew and grew. One wanted it to be bigger, better, stronger, clearer. The Sith ever hungered, like the serpents. Sith knew the truth of this universe: The powerful had the right to rule, and the weak must choose to obey or rebel - Or to become the strongest.

"Do you know the meaning of the word, 'Sith'?"

It was not common knowledge, the word descended from the ancient Sith of the Stygian Caldera; their word 'Tsis'. If Sinya knew, then Ophidia would guess the Zabrak had prior training, or perhaps she had a strange ability to guess right? Stranger things had happened.

"It meas 'perfect'. One who has mastered the Force and gained power beyond belief."

Ophidia's left hand unclasped from the right. One would think she wore a glove, but the perceptive would see that the skin of her hand was simply black as ink. She opened her palm towards Sinya, electricity crackled between her fingers as a red symbol slowly appeared in the palm.

"Is this what you want? It is hard earned, you may die."

[member="Sinya"]

 

[Sinya]

Those experienced in the ways of the universe would say that the powerful had the right to rule, and the weak must to obey or rebel, or simply top all of that and become the strongest. In a way, Sinya understood that because she had done all three, which had, in turn, brought her to this pivotal milestone in life she now was in. Emerging to greatness as a slave was not something many could list among their accomplishments, and the Zabrak was immensely proud of that. The Sith Lord then asked if she knew the meaning of the word “Sith”. Did she? She didn’t think so. Everything she had heard of the Sith before had been tales and legends. It would not be wise to say that she did. “I do not know, Lord.” The meaning was soon made known to her.

Perfect, the meaning was. Those who had mastered the force and its ultimate power. A brief movement from the Sith Lord then drew her eye, and Sinya watched as the palm of the Sith's hand that was as black as night lit with a crackle of electricity, the glow of the light illuminating more than just her eyes. A red symbol appeared and Sinya was asked if that was what she desired. Answering without a hint of doubt and hesitation, she replied.

“It is without a doubt. I’d rather die on the road to power, than live on a long and weak one.”

[member="Darth Ophidia"]

 

[Darth Ophidia]

"Success or death."

She had found those words when she was in Sinya's place, seeking power beyond mere mundane means. It had been the motto of her ascension, then her creed for teaching. Only those with the strength, skill and will to survive were worthy of the chance to become a Sith, to become perfect.

"Then I will show you the path. It is not for the faint of heart, or the weak of mind."

The hand slowly curled, balling into a fist, the mark faded once more, leaving only inky skin.

"It is a path of pain, suffering, strife, and ascension. Tell me then, how will you show your allegiance? How does an aspiring Sith swear fealty?"

The black hand retracted to behind her back, clasping the its ashen counterpart. The serpents' hisses had stilled as they spoke, but now it seemed as though the entire world held its breath in expectation. The chorus of the pale serpents stretched up and intertwined like a ceiling, burning eyes looking down on the pair expectantly. Ophidia's playful smile did not subside, if anything there was a mischievous glow in her eyes as her chin tilted ever so slightly.

What indeed would she do? Freeing herself had gained their attention, but clearly it was not enough to seal the deal. Sinya stood on the metaphorical threshhold of her new life. How would she step into it?

[member="Sinya"]

 

[Sinya]

Only those with the strength, skill and will to survive in the world had been something that was always at the forefront of Sinya’s life. The Zabrak culture along with life in Iridonia did not breed weak flimsy individuals, to begin with. Add the dog-eat-dog society of the slave world, and within those challenges and obstacles emerged a much stronger and better Sinya than ever before. She had not had it easy, but she did not expect it to be any less. To emerge from one’s mess of obstacles and hurdles always made it all more rewarding than it would have otherwise been. Like a phoenix rising from the ashes and stuff and all that stuff.

The Sith Lord then agreed to show her the path, but first required her to show her allegiance and swear fealty to her. Sinya did her best to ignore the actions of the serpents towering above her, instead concentrating her efforts on the Sith in front of her. What indeed should she do? She didn’t know much about the ways of the Sith. How did they prove their allegiance? She did so in the only way she knew how. Retrieving her staff from her back, she stabbed into the dry arid earth, before she went down on one knee, bending the knee, her head bowed. She wondered if this was enough unless there was someone or something else to kill. She had no problems with killing. Not in the slightest.

[member="Darth Ophidia"]

 

[Darth Ophidia]

Every apprentice reacted differently. Some attacked in order to prove their strength, others begged with grand words and sweeping gestures, some gave up their own flesh in sacrifice to their new god, and some bent the knee. One was not necessarily better than the other, but it spoke volumes about the person standing in front of her. Sinya bent the knee.

"Remember this day."

The serpents jerked back as though in pain. Their enormous forms curled in on themselves and shrunk down in the sand, where they coalesced into a singular version of itself: Smaller, but far more real. The white serpent slithered past Sinya and curled its head around Ophidia's ankle.

"Your past self died the day of your liberation. This is the day of your resurrection."

She offered the black hand again, the mark growing visible in her palm. Sparks of blue electricity crackled between her fingers as she reached out in a caressing motion, mere inches from Sinya's face.

"I will make you perfect."

Her hand turned, fingers turning hard like talons. She reached invisible tendrils out towards Sinya's mind to offer her a gift: Knoweldge, or rather, a memory of a place and how to get there: Krayiss II.

"I will be waiting."

The heat and light of Iridonia came crashing back as the cold sensation of Darth Ophidia suddenly melted away. She stood there for a second more, like an after-image. A smile curled on her lips, but the memory would remain.

[member="Sinya"]

 

[Sinya]

It seemed that the decision she had made was the right one, for no attack came. Instead, the Sith spoke, telling her to remember this day. Oh, Sinya would remember this day alright, no matter which way this ended. It was not something that she would ever forget unless her memory was taken from her. The looming shadows projected by the gigantic serpents disappeared as they shrunk and transformed back into the smaller, more realistic version it had originally been. The young Zabrak watched as the white snake curled itself around the other woman’s ankle. She informed her that this was the day of her resurrection, for her past self-had died the day she had liberated herself.

A growing smile crept onto Sinya’s visage as the realisation of what she was getting seeped into her consciousness. The Sith Lord had offered her obsidian hand once more, electricity crackling as they jumped between fingers. Then the offer to became Sith arrived, and with it came the memory of a place, a world called Krayniss II. Not long after, the heat and light of Iridonia returned, and Sinya flinched just ever so slightly. With the grin ever present on her face, the fledgeling Sith headed back towards the Spaceport.

[member="Darth Ophidia"]