Public The Burning of Batuu

[Milena the Piece]

Location: Black Spire Outpost - Batuu
Dialogue Legend: “Galactic Basic” │ <”ur-Kittât”>
Direct Engagement: Anak Darkstar

Milena smelled the blood before she saw it. Her war blade was coated in it, a wicked smile tugging at her pink features as she used a finger to draw just a bit of the crimson essence from her blade, before sticking that same finger (with the blood on it) in her mouth.

“Lovely.” Milena purred softly, before shifting her attention back to the wounded Knight of Ren.

“There is no place for me in this story, I am nothing…”

“Do not despair, Darkstar of Ren. Your life force will make for a delightful feast.” Milena replied, now licking her lips. Then, without further ceremony, she raised her right hand and began to drain the Knight’s life force, her eyes starting to glow in mismatched hues as she did. For a brief moment, the electromancer registered a small taste of the Knight’s essence, though nothing more. Not even a second later, a shooting pain surged through her nerves, prematurely forcing Milena to sever the connection as a scream tore out from her lips. One of the Knight’s Sons had dug his oily, blackened fangs into the meat of her left shoulder, white blood staining the monster’s maw as it clamped down in an effort to tear the limb from her body.

In response, Milena tapped into the energy stored in her amulet and electrified her entire body, causing the monster to recoil back as an explosive electrical current surged directly into its oily flesh, boiling the organic structure that passed for its brain. The electromancer hissed as she spun around, now finding herself facing a score of the black, tar-like monstrosities who had managed to get up onto the roof in order to defend their wounded master.

Unfortunately, that was her cue to leave.

With a low sigh, Milena directed one last glance towards the wounded Knight, before throwing herself off of the roof in an acrobatic backflip, sending her form flying down towards the street below. Upon landing, she picked up the Knight’s lightsaber (which he had thrown away moments prior), before slipping off into a nearby alleyway. She had what she needed—a trophy lightsaber, a trophy arm, and a report to deliver to her mistress. While it was disappointing to be forced to leave without having had the chance to consume the Knight’s life force, for all intents and purposes, her mission had been a success.

The Brain Demon Cult would be among the first to hear of the emergence of the World Eater and the return of the Knights of Ren.

Final Post.​

 

[Detritus Ren]

Location: Black Spire Outpost, Batuu, Unknown Regions
Tags: Darth Sarla Katachi Ren Surea
Anak Darkstar Milena the Piece

Detritus had watched the Zeltron closely. She was perhaps one of the better Sith with a pretty face he had seen. Although he wasn’t seeking out followers for the looks they held, but to find the wayward lost and guide them to a different path. A path that called to all who felt empty in the embrace of darkness, and had found nothing. He had come to this rock of an outpost, hoping not just for its destruction but to guide those along the path as the World Eater wills.

He stepped closely towards the Zeltron who called herself a bounty hunter. The saberstaff she carried was held defensively. Detritus would only approach her slowly, his hands freed. He wished her no harm. Before he could speak, he noticed a ship that had arrived to the port. More had arrived. Finally he put his attention back to the Zeltron woman.

“It’s all part of the path, child of the dark cosmos. All part of a path, and his plan to restore the galaxy to its true nature. All part of the rebirth. Now the Sith Order will have you conform, beg for scraps like a dog following a facade what they call power, but will never grant to you. What if I were to tell you. If you desire power all you have to do is take it. Look inward and see if you are worthy of the path. The rebirth you seek is not in the past with them, but in the future with me for a voice guides my faith.”

He would step closer to her, all the while the screams of the shadow beasts, and the howl of flames would echo aloud. He looked back to her, his dark convictions oozing with each word. “The World Eater beckons, calling upon the lost, the disillusioned, those that cry out for a new beginning to join its cause. Shed your old identity for in the darkness of its hunger, you shall find rebirth you so desperately crave. The chance to reach out and claim what is yours. Embrace the Knights of Ren, and I promise you salvation. I promise you will gain it all, and so much more. Join us, and together, we shall be the architects of his divine will. Shaping the reality of this very galaxy as he sees fit. I know how to answer the Shadow that guides you…” He would say reaching out to the Zeltron. He hoped to reach a part of her that desired more than just scraps from the Sith. A life of meaning, and to something bigger than herself.

In that moment, almost the chaos he would feel another approach. Another clad in the warrior garb of the Ren. His attention caught away from the Zeltron, if only for a moment to look upon his Brother. “Greetings brother! You have come to the right place. With the Knights of Ren have returned. Returned to follow our calling under his eye. Blessed be the worthy that walks with the shadows.” He said the religious zeal evident in his tone. Turning back to the Zeltron he would say. “See, child of the dark cosmos. We are back and stronger than those that dare keep the power for themselves, rather than flow with the very conduit of the galaxy, through us all.”

 

[Anak Darkstar]

The Sons came to the rescue of The Father.

Darkstar’s vitals were non existent, and yet when The Lady drank from his essence, his life matter, there was still something there when the Dark Sons intervened and bit at the Electromancer like a pack of Tu’kata defending their Alpha. Such devotion was not often seen in realm of sentients who despite their superior intelligence had a greater capacity for betrayal.

As Milena the Piece fled from onslaught of Oil of Darkstar, the spirit of the Father began to lift from its skin sarcophagus, prompting the Sons to take hold of their Pater and rush his flesh to the Mater, The Dark Star. In The Womb, where they bestial boys had ben wrought, they rummaged about the many crates of the Harvest, the spoils of Shadow. There behind the clanging boxes, one Renowned Son saw a door marked with runic symbols, and showed red serpents rising as from bush of blood. This Son motioned to his Bogan kin to bring The Father. The way was shut, and so the multitude of Fili began to claw and beat against the seal, tearing at the metal that began to bend out in jaggid edges that tore at them and left great drops of black blood. Making a hole into the interior, they found a copsule, like a cyrostasis tube. Inside the glass was something, like webs of blood veins. The Father was brought and opening the glass which set off an alarm, they laid him on the tendris laying in blood liquid. The Eight Sons stood around and waited, there was no motion from tendrils or the body of their Pater, only silence that seemed to last for eternity. Then a stir, as one tentacle moved beneath like a serpent in the shallows of a swamp. The blood pool began to rise as the tendrils surrounded The Darkstar and pulled him under the scarlet surf.

There was no ripples, no movement, making the Shadows of Anak stay still, their disciple as they let the unholy ritual do its work was a testimony to their Creator. Then the waters of lifeblood moved, something beneath was tapping at the surface, when suddenly The Darkstar rose out of the rose water bed, his body incased in red tentacle like flesh, a mask even shrouded his face as great serpent like coils sprung from his back like tongues grabbing the eight sons who fell to their knees, tasting them.

The Darkstar let out a shriek that was the voice of a million horrors to come, a primordial first breath of something pernicious and potent. Looking at his hands, yes there were two, a tentacle had taken the place of his felled one, knotting and making five tendril fingers.

Turning to look at his Sons which his back tentacles slithered across, he let go them and began to step out of the pod, the tomb from which he had risen. The Sons began to chant, and lift their black ink dripping hands in adoration of their Abba.

The wet and red worm like coils swam around his Sons’ necks and raised their chins up as he looked at them.

“I thirst..”

The voice was sharp and as if echoing in a tomb. The Filistines rose up and began scouring Batuu for morsels, they found some survivors that they brought to The Pater who sent his red dipped pythons into their mouths and drank from their inner vessels, the storehouse of life vintage.

What remained was bardly discernible flesh so pale as to appear like bone had been crafted around the exteriors. Their once boisterous frames now thin and like the shed skin of serpents. The sight unsettling to any who knew the natural anatomy of mortals. From this imbibing the Darkstar now stepped free of the cryotomb, his Sons bowing, to which his tentacles raised them up.

“My Sons.. take heart, I am risen.”

TAG: Detritus Ren

 

[Darth Sarla]

TAG: Detritus Ren

The Dark Lady listened to this sermon, and the promises of power if she would but reach and of course join this cult. Sarla had been burned by Tsis’kaar, Chaos itself, and then the Jedi. She felt reluctance, despite the pulsating call of this Silver Helmed Prophet. She had heard the speeches once before, and a part of her wanted to believe in this “Divine Will.” But this Daughter of the Dark was not ready to trust just yet. So she spun her Staffsaber in a position to attack.

“If so powerful you are, and so divine the will that motivates you. Then tilt with me and let us see if what you have said is true or if it is just words..”

She spun her blade in helicopter flurry as she launched into air above him, she came down upon him as living fan of red energy, a halo of death. If he was indeed an arbiter of salvation, then surly he could save himself.