Faction Sworn Oath of Samhain (Knights of Obsidian/Mandragora)

[Scàth Mhaolàin]

Know that the spirits beyond the veil would welcome have welcomed your allegiance, brother, and that if you only saw the truth then you would have stood beside me. But, you refused and there can be no denying the spirits. But, fear not, you will not walk alone.

In time, we all walk the paths of the Dead Forest.

- a note found at the site of the Kerritamba slaughter, next to the body of Chief Kerritamba.
Deep within the groves of Kashyyyk’s Shadowlands, the sound of wardrums echoed throughout the jungle.

The bones of Sayormi warriors struck against stretched Wookie hides, the deep thrum of the sacrifices souls being delivered to the spirits behind the veil brought fire to the Sayormi warriors blood as they surged forth from their villages. Warhorns blared as warbands charged through the undergrowth, trained Sathog barking at their feet as fire began to light up the jungle.

Samhain had come.

The festival was celebrated once a circulation of Kashyyyk’s by Scàth’s tribe, when the veil separating tribe Sayormi from the guides beyond thinned. It was a time for tribes to swear new allegiances, for new blood oaths to be sworn. And a time for sacrifice.

With a spear in one hand, a flaming branch in another, Scàth leapt over a screaming Worrt, the beast fleeing behind him into the arms of the war and behind him. None would be spared and the spirits rewarded those who fed their hunger.

Samhain had come.

Climbing the wroshyr trees was a dangerous endeavour and not all who made the attempt would survive it, but the spirits beyond rewarded the spilling of Wookie blood above all others. The Wookie’s were sleeping and there would be few survivors. When the festival passed and the site was found, the stories of the blood seeking Sayormi would be whispered of.

Samhain had come.

Opening his eyes, Sayormi breathed the last of the fumes out.

Why the spirits had chosen that memory for him to relive was a mystery for the moment. But he had confidence it would become clear in time.

He had been sent here when the Wookie’s had caught him, the power of their new allies sensing his aura with their own spirit guides. But, execution and the Dead Forest beyond the veil was not to be for him. He had been put in chains and placed in this hold for weeks now and he had heard nothing from the rest of the metal cage he had been placed in until now. It seemed they had reached their destination.

Behind his eyes, he felt a stirring and a whisper slithered through his mind.

A time for new allegiances, of new blood oaths.

Samhain had come.

 

[Vytal Noctura]

For what reason...

For what reason do you climb to the highest heights?

For what reason do you hear the unspoken word?

For what reason do you sacrifice to the unseen presence?

Should the cage of the past define your future, or have you reason to set foot on the path before you?

A portal quietly carved its way into being not far from where they unloaded their cargo. It was carefully tucked out of sight from would-be common folk or what passed for security. Through it lay the shadow-filled land Beyond what most understood to be existence. A world unlikely any other they had witnessed. One they could scarcely comprehend. A realm that invited death to those unprepared to encounter it before their time.

From that gate passed the shadowy figure that reached out to Scàth Mhaolàin. One that listened for the man's response.

Some would question why the Nightmother would be drawn to a soul such as his. One that slaughtered to appease spectral voices heedless of the crimes they may commit. Not all spirits were worthy of communing with. Few spirits could be trusted in forming such pacts. Yes, some had become twisted, deformed, and even outright sinister. Most were simply no longer bound by the mores and customs of the living; their Ways were not those of this plane. Not everyone that dealt with those Beyond may understand that, and even those that did could be led astray.

There was more to the world than slaughter. Perhaps, the man only needed a guide that was still flesh. One that could teach how to commune with purpose, and live a long, rich life in the company of spirits.

Tag: Scàth Mhaolàin

 

[Scàth Mhaolàin]

Stepping out into the harsh light, Scàth wrinkled his nose as it’s glare bore into him, bringing stinging tears to his eyes. A lifetime of shadow and dark in the groves of Kashyyyk hadn’t endeared him to the light.

Walking down the ramp, his captors seemed content to allow him to move freely, having opened the hold and left the exit open for his leisure. Looking up at the great ship, there was no sign on who was piloting it and who was responsible for his current predicament but, it seemed they bore him no ill intent. Or perhaps this world was so desolate, they thought it an execution.

With a wry grin, the Sayormi stepped off the ramp and onto the sand, reaching out with his senses. Everywhere around him, he could feel the presence of the spirits of this world, in the dry breeze and fiery touch of the sun and within the sand itself.

Crouching down, Scàth took the last of his sacred herbs from his pouch before placing them into his mouth and beginning to chant.

The mingling taste of spices, the sickly-sweet tang of treated sap, the sting of crushed insects, all of these melded together as he opened his eyes, allowing his spiritual senses to expand.

Colours that had no name floated through the air, mingling with distant voices that had no source as the leylines of power allowed themselves to be seen. Even a neophyte such as Scàth could sense them and they flowed all across the horizon, the natural flux of energy all coalescing to where?

A movement in the sand caught his attention, but it was only a wyyyschokk larva, trying to escape the hea-

Whipping back to stare at the spider, Scàth began to follow it curiously. An arachnid found only in the jungle depths, here on this planet? As it crawled into the shadows of a rock formation, Scàth found himself meeting the gaze of a figure standing in the darkness. To his spirit sight, spiritual familiars and energies flowed all around and the power emanating from it was so profound, it was a wonder he had noticed immediately.

Dropping to his knees, the Sayormi bowed his head. The legend of his people had spoken of this one, from beyond the veil. The Mother of spiders and keeper beyond.

The Nightmother.

 

[Vytal Noctura]

Green mist began to form about the metal gauntlets of the woman's forearms as she strode across the barren earth. Her eyes began to glow with the same ethereal energy that coiled its way about her limbs. Even if one had never seen a pale woman with tattoos before, they knew the whispers of a dark world from which the uninvited had not returned. Dathomir -- home to the Nightsisters, and women that communed with the dead performing untold rituals that would keep children wide-eyed and awake until dawn.

Presence alone rattled, but it was the streamers of green energy that poured from her outstretched hands toward the ship that set things in motion. The mist took grotesque form at its head, and the shrill warble of another world pierce the air. It soared by the man that crouched upon the world. His presence was not their concern. Whether they intended to abandon the man here, content in fulfilling their mission, or to slaughter him, the Nightmother had given them no choice but to leave Scàth where he was. They departed in no small hurry.

Once the ship had taken flight, the mists faded back into the plane from whence they came. The red armored woman stood six feet from the man then; her eyes fixed on his visage. A wind blew a few strands of hair off to the side, but with all else said no movement was given. No sound uttered. She awaited the man's response.

Tag: Scàth Mhaolàin

 

[Scàth Mhaolàin]

The ethereal screech of the denizens from beyond the veil brought a mixture of elation and horror to Scàths mind. Only the queen of the Sayormi had ever been able to bring about such manifestations and even then, it was of much less potency.

Daring to stand, the Sayormi looked upon the Nightmother visage, his mind rebelling at what he saw. With his physical eyes, she was a women, armoured and intimidating but with no obvious weapons. But, to his spirit sight.

The sound of wardrums, warhorns, the screams of sacrifices, SAMHAIN HAS COME the flames crackling, blades carving, SAMHAIN HAS COME, The roar of the jungle beasts, the laughter of the Sayormi.

SAMHAIN HAS COME.

The force of the spirit vision nearly threw him back to his knees but, just as quickly as it had begun, it had faded.

I understand now.

Moving slowly, ensuring that he made no sudden movements, Scàth drew the bone dagger at his belt and drew it’s wicked edge across his palm, clenching it to allow his lifeblood to pour into the sand.

“Nightmother...I have come to swear my bloodoath to you and to request your favour..”

With the ritual words uttered Scàth scarcely dared to breathe as he awaited the response.

 

[Vytal Noctura]

"You do this of your own accord." Vytal stated after several seconds, but also in question. Inspiration by the spirits was one thing; but controlled by them was another. The words he had uttered must be of his will and his alone. Not to ensure she held a leash tethered to this man she just met, but that if he felt so sworn there would be no doubt later of treachery. "Then I will honor it, and you."

She lifted one hand and slowly closed the gap between them. A small ball of green energy formed over an open palm. "To what ends does a Sayormi seek the favor of the Nightmother?" The ball of energy was extended toward the man's cut hand when they were at arm's length from one another. Much as she honored his way, there was no need for him to spill more blood than needed to see his conviction laid bare. It would do little good if he succumbed to infection either. Healing magick would tend to matters even if it was not her strongest of magickal paths.

Tag: Scàth Mhaolàin

 

[Scàth Mhaolàin]

Feeling a scratching tingle, Scàth looked down to find his wounds healing before his eyes. The green energy flowed from the Nightmother and all the dull aches and pain that he felt began to cease and disappear.

“I do, without compulsion or force, give my oath.”

Standing to meet her gaze, Scàth heard the distant call beyond the veil but ignored them. He would be truthful and would not suffer any compulsion from the worlds beyond. This was his destiny and it would be his decision.

“The Sayormi have always tried to follow the example set by the first dark walkers who came to Kashyyyk and taught us of those beyond the veil. My ascension was brought through the sacrifice of my tribe and I will honour their memory. I have come to learn the true path.”

 

[Vytal Noctura]

His ascension was through the sacrifice of his tribe? Obviously a personally significant story there, but not one Vytal would unnecessarily intrude upon without reason. There were questions, however, which she would liked answered before she introduced him to others. "And what will you do if you learn where this Path leads? It is a treacherous one where a soul may be led astray and not realize it, if they are not prepared. You know of these risks, and embrace them?" One that communed with spirits was always welcome, provided they had the discretion not to abuse them or fall victim to the less... well mannered ones.

As she awaited his answer, the Nightmother turned and waved her hand in a circle off to the side. Another opening in space appeared to lead back the way she had come. "If you are prepared, then I would have you join us. There are others like your self, set to learn more of the invisible world that surrounds us. I would know more of what it is you seek, lest I have you crawling over barren rock in lost temples." A small smile touched her dark lips. As serious as matters were, a little levity would do no harm.

Tag: Scàth Mhaolàin

 

[Scàth Mhaolàin]

Looking beyond, into the portal the Nightmother summoned, Scàth tried to guess which of the realms beyond it led to. In Sayormi legend, the Queen of Spiders prowled her own glade with the Dead Forest beyond, but it was becoming increasingly obvious that the power of those beyond encompassed much more than his people knew of.

“I do embrace these risks. A path without risk is one unworthy of travel.”

Seeing the Nightmother smile, Scàth began to relax. It seemed the risk of having his soul cursed to a barren plane of existence had passed, at least for now.

Smiling in return, Scàth chuckled as he the tension left his body. From jungle huntsman to spiritual neophyte so quickly.

“Traversing lost temples and barren rocks has become a specialty of mine, I’m afraid. I seek to walk the path the spirits have chosen me for. It is the way of my tribe to commune with the familiars of nature and darkness that others feared to and to learn from them.”

 

[Vytal Noctura]

For a male, Vytal found this one to be surprisingly well-adjusted and interested in the spiritual world. True, the Nightsisters dissuaded Nightbrothers from the path, but few had a genuine passion to learn the forbidden path to them. Of course, out here, no such social barrier existed. Obviously this one's people on some level embraced it. Even understood it for their part.

"You will not be disappointed, Sayormi. I am Nightmother Vytal Noctura of the Mandragora," hopefully inspiring the man to introduce himself lest a Dathomiri call him by his people's name for all time. "As part of us you will be given guidance in how to commune with familiars and spirits. They are as diverse as the living, as are their motives, desires, and abilities. You will not be coddled, however. Listen to the wisdom shared by flesh or spirit, contemplate it fully, and never stop asking questions." She paused for a moment. "Unless I tell you to be quiet. I much prefer you not draw the spirit of a rancor upon us. They're as temperamental Beyond as they were in life."

The Nightmother began to stride toward the portal, not keen on leaving one open longer than was needed. It would not bode well for her image if a spirit escaped into the world while the man was watching. "We will pass through the Veil into the Nether. It will shorten our journey to our place of study." Sadly not a common talent among their people, though Vytal hadn't written a book on how she'd come across the ability. It was incredibly dangerous, and had been entrusted to her by another. Still, the man was lucky he'd not have to sit idle aboard a ship for too long; and he would get the chance to see that which had only been speculated upon by his people.

Tag: Scàth Mhaolàin

 

[Scàth Mhaolàin]

“I greet you Nightmother Vytal Noctura of the Mandragora. I am Scàth Mhaolàin, once of the Kkowir Sayormi.”

But now of where?

Stepping through the portal without fear, Scàth listened for the howls of the spirits beyond, perhaps to catch the sound of his tribesmen who even now, walked the Dead Forest paths. Death was not the end for his people but a beginning. The eternal cycle of birth, death and rebirth was sacred to the Sayormi, for even in death, Kashyyyk would have a warrior spawn new life. The burial farms of his tribe were rich in fungi and mosses, insect hives growing within cadavers to produce sickly sweet corpse honey and fermented toxins.

“I seek no coddling Nightmother, but merely knowledge. Certainly not rancors” he added as an afterthought, memories of hunting the beasts in the Shadowlands enough for him to have never sought their spirits out as a totem.

But the nether, the paths of the Dead Forest itself. That was knowledge I would certainly seek.

 

[Vytal Noctura]

"Good, Scàth Mhaolàin. Your first lesson is thus," Vytal stopped and turned to face Scàth. It was followed by an inclination of the head and her eyes fixed on a spot behind him from whence they'd come.

If he turned, Scàth would find the portal they passed through gone. In its place would be an endless row of towering trees. Despite what must have been a sizable root base, however, the trees grew practically on top of one another so that passage was impossible. For the moment.

"In this realm, your thoughts become reality. Do not mistake that for control. This place has a life of its own; you are not always shown what you desire, and there are countless perils of both the familiar and strange." The Nightmother stood patiently to give the man a moment to examine the sight before him, contemplate her words, and make question whatever was on his mind.

"Your Tribe, as mine, may await you. Before you call out to them, however," Vytal stepped closer, "be certain you are prepared. There are spirits long since the Old Republic was made here. There is no telling what trial you may be subjected to; and you should learn more of how to wield the power of this realm before you seek that trial." Though if Scàth were brash or reckless, now would be as good a time as any to discover it.

Tag: Scàth Mhaolàin

 

[Scàth Mhaolàin]

Finally.

All around him, the powers of the Dead Forest rose and came into prominence, the material realm fading away as spiritual energies replaced the laws of logic. Opening his eyes, the Sayormi turned and nearly wept at the beauty.

The forest was everywhere, and he could sense the presences behind the wall of foliage. The trunks were lit by bioluminescent fungi, small movements could be seen among the branches and trunks and in the distance, he swore he could hear the wardrums of his tribe.

"In this realm, your thoughts become reality. Do not mistake that for control. This place has a life of its own; you are not always shown what you desire, and there are countless perils of both the familiar and strange."

I wonder what she sees when she gazes upon the forest.

“I will learn these powers, I swear this upon the blood of all who have passed to bring me here.” He said, as much to the Nightmother as to himself.

“But I will not walk into the web unprepared.”

 

[Vytal Noctura]

"This is wise." It was quite uplifting to have been guided to someone that was not eager to get their self killed so soon. "You have nothing to fear in learning how to wield this power. Time is on your side." Even if the man died in combat or from some ailment, he was certain to find his way back here as a spirit himself. Scàth's commitment to his own -- his soul -- was strong. She doubted he would simply dissipate into the larger pool of life.

Vytal turned to resume their trek across the 'distance' to their destination. As she did so, the Nightmother asked, "Scàth, what is it you seek? Not merely 'knowledge' or to walk 'the path.' If you were given the power to do whatever it is you willed, what would it be?" If she were to teach someone, it was best to understand who they were as a person; and what it was they seemed to want most. Of course, what one believed they wanted and what they truly wanted could differ by leagues. Ultimately, it was a process and one that began with humble beginnings.

Tag: Scàth Mhaolàin

 

[Scàth Mhaolàin]

As the pair walked, Scàth instinctively listened out for the sound of predators and dangers from beyond the treeline, the skills that had allowed him to survive the harsh realm of his homeworld still sharp. Its strange he thought They are here and yet not here.

When he would calm his mind, allowing his senses to reach out, he would hear nothing, but when he allowed his mind to drift, whatever came to mind could then be heard, from the slow, sickening scrape of the Slyyyg to the fear inducing footfall of the Terentatek. But behind it all, the whispering of his people could be heard. Smiling, he imagined the forest silent, not even the footfalls of the Nightmother next to him and slowly, it came to be.

Truly, this is a wonderous place.

"Scàth, what is it you seek? Not merely 'knowledge' or to walk 'the path.' If you were given the power to do whatever it is you willed, what would it be?"

Continuing to walk alongside the Nightmother, the Sayormi pondered the question. He had never really considered what he would like to do, every day on Kashyyyk was dedicated to just surviving.

“I am not sure Nightmother. Truly I have never really seen beyond this point of the path. “

Looking back to the treeline, a fog began to rise as his thoughts wandered. Unbeknownst to him, the shapes in the fog mirrored what was playing out within his mind, Sayormi hunters fighting the beasts of the Jungle with spears, bowls made from the hollowed skulls of the dead filled with bubbling fluids as the shamans within brewed their unguents and ointments but beyond that all, a marsh, the quiet song of the amphibians in the night, the beauty of the mushrooms growing. This was the peace that was within Scàth.

“I would learn of the spirits of the forest Nightmother. To tend and grow the forest itself, from the mushrooms at the roots to the birds in the branches. If I were to choose, that is the path I would choose.”

 

[Vytal Noctura]

Vytal looked over at the man after he'd responded. Curious. His desire was such a simple thing. Despite its humility, she was taken by the desire for such a peaceful way of life. "You would do well with the Mandragora, then. Know we are not jealous if you commune with others; we only ask that you share what you learn, and in return we will share what we have learned." Some Orders were quite adamant about holding only membership of their ranks, and receiving instruction in their way. The Mandragora were not so demanding -- Vytal believed the contributions both parties could provide spoke for themselves in maintaining that relationship. Force of arms or veiled threats were no way to encourage the exchange of knowledge.

"I would gladly you teach you of the Forest Spirits. Our refuge is surrounded by a forest of its own, and far from the sprawling madness of galactic society. You should find communion easy once you have been shown the way." Vytal could imagine how wide his eyes would be once he set sight on the Valley of Life not far from the Castle. The Mandragora sought to grow many things there from many worlds -- whether for aesthetic reasons or research purposes. Perhaps Scàth would become one of its largest contributors in time.

Green mist rose about the Dathomiri woman's feet before it shot outward in a spiral about the pair as they walked. It vanished into the Forest that Scàth had conjured. Vytal looked over at Scàth once more. "Always remember: not all spirits have your best intentions in mind, and even those that mean no harm may not understand the consequences of their actions." The magick she'd dispersed nearby had brushed aside two spirits that had come precariously close; ones too interested in the mortals that walked their realm. Hidden, perhaps, among the trees. "Many hold great power, and great wisdom. You would be wise to listen -- but do not be too quick to obey."

Tag: Scàth Mhaolàin

 

[Scàth Mhaolàin]

TAG: Vytal Noctura

As the ethereal forest within his mind faded, Scàth began to ponder the idea of a new tribe to follow, a new path to walk. Kinship meant others to watch his back, to share in the joys of the hunt, the celebration of existence. To have found others with a mindset similar to his was nothing short of miraculous in the eyes of the Sayormi.

"I would gladly you teach you of the Forest Spirits. Our refuge is surrounded by a forest of its own, and far from the sprawling madness of galactic society. You should find communion easy once you have been shown the way. Always remember: not all spirits have your best intentions in mind, and even those that mean no harm may not understand the consequences of their actions. "Many hold great power, and great wisdom. You would be wise to listen -- but do not be too quick to obey."

Nodding, the young spiritualist looked again at their hazy surroundings, feeling the attention of unseen sentience watching him, probing, looking for a weakness? But, as his companion seemed to shift, the feeling began to dissipate, like fish fleeing the attention of a greater predator. Truly, the Nightmother was all his people had spoken of, and more. Drawing his knife, he went to slide it across his palm before remembering the Nightmother’s disinterest in his sacred wounds only moments ago when she had first come before him.

“I would give mionn dílseachta….my loyalty pledge to your tribe. To my tribe…How do I swear this?” To give an oath without sealing in blood felt sacrilegious to him, but he would follow the traditions of his new people.

If they will have me.

 

[Vytal Noctura]

The Nightmother smiled as Scàth offered to pledge himself. So many others would have just taken him at his word. Some other Witches might have shared a brew, or scrawled a pact. However, she had bore witness to the man's inclination, and given her own background understood it. Though in truth, performing such a thing with an outsider and a male would be practically unheard of on Dathomir. They were not on Dathomir, and Vytal had long since sought to reconcile the two worlds without sacrificing her own identity.

"Few among the worlds would perform such a rite." She drew in a bit closer, "Yet, you are not dealing with them. Let us swear on it then that we two will ensure the balance of the spiritual realm, and in the protection of each other, and our Sisters and Brothers." Drawing blood by blade was not something she grew squeamish at the thought. It wasn't often required, but some rituals demanded a blood sacrifice. Preferably a small one, but there'd been one or two...

"It may take time for you to become accustomed to the ways of offworlders. I will not expect you to adjust immediately, nor will I demand you 'conform.' Little of who you are will need to change, though I will say blood-letting is quite rare among the Mandragora. However," so the man might not be utterly deflated, "we do have a dueling circle. And the Confederacy is far from a land of peace." Much as it seemed to desire it.

Tag: Scàth Mhaolàin

 

[Scàth Mhaolàin]

Tag: Vytal Noctura

"Let us swear on it then that we two will ensure the balance of the spiritual realm, and in the protection of each other, and our Sisters and Brothers."

Nodding his assent, the Sayormi bowed his head briefly.

“Indeed Nightmother, I do so swear this oath. You call and I will answer.”

Listening to her discuss his new tribe, he smiled as within the tree’s, he swore he could see the a group of familiar figures standing sentinel, backlit by the torches they held as their silent vigil of the Dead Forest paths continued.

By my ancestors, I will honour this new role.

"we do have a dueling circle. And the Confederacy is far from a land of peace."

Hearing this, Scàth smiled and nodded again.

“This is good. Peace is anathema to growth, for it is only in struggle that we learn truly what we are. Peace is not natural.”

This was what the Wookies upon Kashyyyk had failed to grasp about the Sayormi culture. They saw his people as raiders, savages and barbarians, but they were merely serving their purpose within the cycle. If the Wookies had their way, they would have forgotten their traditions, forgotten their origins, their way of life.

It’s a wonder they still have their claws and haven’t tore them out in shame.

“In my tribe, duel’s were often hunts, challenges in who could bring in greater prey. What weapons does my new tribe favour?”

 

[Vytal Noctura]

Vytal laughed lightly at the question. "Some practice duels, but others are content with their study. They may not be the stoutest among us in close combat, but their knowledge and power will make short work of enemies all the same." She might as well set the man's expectations now before he painted too bloody a picture. "You will find plenty of women of Dathomir among our number, however. Our clan was brought up in similar fashion. What we had was the result of our own hands; and the beasts of our world were ferocious and savage. There are days I miss the simplicity of hunting physical prey."

Not far from where they were now a camp appeared ahead. Nestled there sat a gate, and through it the fields and forest of Ryloth scantly visible from here.

"Whatever the difference in technique among the Mandragora -- your new tribe -- one thing is shared among each of us: we use magick. Some outsiders will call it 'The Force,' but that is an oversimplification. They are two melodies carried on the same currents." There was a great deal to impart on the man. She would try not to dump it all on him at once. "Though you may find it interesting to learn about the ways of those that do not use magick. Some of their number stay with us. Different points of view can bring surprising insight."

Blasters might not be a Sayormi's interest, but eventually he would need to learn of them -- for nothing else then how to respond when one was pointed at you. She wouldn't blame him for disliking them. Vytal didn't much like weapons that allowed someone to be completely unseen when they attacked -- sniper rifles in particular. Have the courage to face your opponent.

Tag: Scàth Mhaolàin