Faction The Hex Trials

[AMCO]

One daughter down, her horrified screams distracting her mother and, surprisingly enough, intriguing her sister.

As Lark went after the other daughter and the loyalist forces pushed the remaining witches towards the centre of their little village, Adrian faced down the Clan Mother, lightning clashing against eldritch fire, waves of raw entropy dispersing against screeching winds.

With a snarl, his eyes glowed a sullen red, the air seeming to grow denser as he grew in momentum, the fires he and Lark had lit flickering wildly, strange shapes seeming to take shape as both duellists snarled out phrase after phrase of sorcerous incantations. She was good, really bloody good; though he was winning, no slip up could be tolerated - for either of them.

Perhaps sensing what was at stake, one of the rebellious nightsisters broke through their lines and dashed towards him, only for one of the loyalists to meet her sword against sword... followed by one of Adrian's inquisitorial legionnaires driving an electrostaff into her back; let fools keep their precious honour, he would have victory and its spoils.

Exhaling in triumph, he pushed her further still, voice echoing across the battlefield. "It's over! What will it be, life or death?"

Lark​

 

[Lark]

Lark breathed heavily as the battle reached its conclusion, careful not to inhale more smoke than his lungs could handle. He'd let Adrian handle the mother, the leeches had weakened him considerably and he didn't want to get in the way. Regardless, the cacophony of battle grew dull as the number of rebels dwindled. Most were dead, a few taken captive. Adrian issued one final ultimatum, would the remaining sisters fight and die, or surrender and live? Just by studying the mother's face, Lark knew she'd rather die before submitting to the Sith.

But her life was not the only one at stake. Could she watch the rest of her tribe die, just to maintain her pride? Or did she believe death was a better alternative compared to whatever the Sith had in store for those who survived? What he would give, to get a glimpse into her mind right now. Did she believe that she might take the brunt of the punishment, and the rest of the sisters would be spared from the same fate?

He'd let Adrian handle the fallout of whatever decision was made. There was something far more interesting Lark wished to look into.

The Nightsister Lark knocked unconscious slowly roused herself awake, before noticing the restraints around her wrists and ankles. She looked up and met his gaze, smiling vilely. "Never before have I sensed such twisted desires," she said to him. She wasn't afraid in the least, but that was probably because it was evident Lark needed her help.

Lark knelt down, staring into her hellish gaze with wide eyes as soft as snow. And in a moment, he showed her his past. All the blood he had shed, all the torment he had caused. All the laughs he shared, the happy memories within. Everything that had ever happened to him. She shied back, but her hunger only grew.

"I need your help," Lark whispered. "And I can promise you wonderful things if you help me find something important to me."

Her answer was an easy one.

AMCO

 

[AMCO]

Glaring at each other past lines of vicious fighting yet surrounded by oases of calm - for only the truly idiotic would willingly stand between duelling Sorcerers and by extension expose themselves to curses that rend flesh and worse things yet - Adrian and the Clan Mother both knew that their fight was coming to an end and that his side was winning. He hoped she would surrender, to save her clan if nothing else...

... but one did not lay claim to the title of Nightmother in defiance to one's fellow witches and the Empire both without a little streak of madness.

When she acted, it was with minimal warning, ghastly green flames erupting from her outstretched hands and crashing into his wards with enough strength to drive him almost a full metre backwards, the air crackling with energy as the soil beneath their feet died from proximity alone.

She had hoped to tear him down with one fell blow, to turn the tide against the aggressors, and it almost worked - but in a battle such as this, almost was simply not good enough. Eyes turning a sullen orange and flesh rippling with power, he struck back, a wave of black miasma quenching her flames and engulfing her body, driving it backwards and disintegrating flesh and bone alike.

A scream, a puff of blackened dust, and she was simply gone.

Panting heavily, Adrian swayed slightly, his once-majestic hairdo resting slickly on pallid features. After a few moments of this, he regained his composure, breaking the silence that had fallen with his cultured voice, calm as ever. "So be it. Your Clan Mother has fallen and her daughters lay defeated, will you die for your pride or live for yourself?" Pushing his sweaty hair back on his scalp, he continued, looking healthier by the minute.

"You may join the Murakami, you may serve me, or you may die. The choice is yours."

Lark​

 

[Lark]

The captured Nightsister watched the duel with Lark, as if the two were old friends gambling on some sporting event. Snide comments were made regarding the others chosen victor, Lark sure that Adrian would emerge victorious, the Nightsister confident that her mother had the upper hand. To her credit, the Nightmother posed more of a threat than previously expected. It took quite a lot to surprise both Adrian and Lark, but it mattered little in the end. The Mother had failed, reduced to ash at Adrian's feet. All her guile meant nothing in the grand scheme of things, once her children surrendered she'd be quickly forgotten.

There was nothing special about her.

But her daughter was something else.

"You were curious," Lark began. The spared Nightsister's hands remained cuffed, the two walked through the remnants of the clan's home, the scent of amber and ash nearly overwhelmed them. "When Adrian shattered your sister's mind, you only looked on with an intense interest. Is such a thing a novelty for you?"

"As novel as it is for you," she said with a chuckle. "Fear has always been a study of mine, and never before have I seen my family in such distress. Is it truly a surprise, that I wish to know what causes my own sister such horror?"

"It seems as though you could learn something from that."

"So, you've already peeped into my mind. Very well, I'll put forth no illusions, then." Lark stopped walking, turning to face the Nightsister. She was tall, standing a feet inches above even Lark, who was above average height for his age. And she told him what she saw. Where the man who stole his sister hid, and how even his sister's exact whereabouts remained shrouded. It was a start, more than he had been able to learn on his own. "I see, thank you. You've been of much greater help than that nameless pirate has."

"So you've met him," the witch responded, with an awfully feral smile. "That 'nameless' pirate. Likes his rum, that one does."

Lark hardly reacted to this gesture, of course a pirate would like rum. That was hardly prophetic. For a moment, he feared that the witch would turn into nothing more than some court jester, making foolish predictions without any merit. What a waste that would be.

"Quite the stunt the two of you pulled in the Gromas Belt."

Lark laughed, appreciating the new weapon he, and the Sith Empire, had acquired. He wouldn't put together the connection between the witch and the pirate until much later.

Meanwhile, the remaining Nightsisters made their choices in response to Adrian's declaration. Most surrendered, valuing life instead of some misplaced devotion to their mother. The strongest survivors surrendered specifically to Adrian, recognizing him as the one who overthrew their mother, not the other Nightsisters. A handful deigned to show more loyalty to their kin, and surrendered to the Sith allied Nightsisters. A minority chose death, and the Sith were more than happy to grant that wish.

"You'll ride with us to Bastion," Lark said to the Nightsister he captured. "We have much to discuss."

AMCO

 

[AMCO]

A smile spread across his features as several of the witches chose him over their kin - it would seem his display of raw sorcerous power had not gone unappreciated. It was a shame that some of the rogue witches chose death - their loyalist kin executing them without a shred of hesitation - but it could not be helped.

... and then there were those who had fallen on the field but not perished. Waving his hand in an intricate pattern, the Sorcerer drew forth the ashes of the fallen Nightmother from the soil on which it had fallen, pouring it into a transparisteel container before turning his attention to her youngest.

The ashen-haired daughter had recovered somewhat, enough to talk anyway, her pale features marked by her own fingernails, a haunted look in her eyes. And yet she spoke first, even sprawled on the ground as she was. Yes, she had potential. "What do you want Sith? To finish what you started?"

Chuckling merrily, he shook his head, sweaty locks shaking. "Kill you? Force no, not unless you force my hand. I have no quarrel with your clan, you understand this, no? Defiance against the Empire was always going to end in slaughter..." Leaning down towards her, she flinched slightly, though her glare made it clear that she was far from broken. "... but look around you. More of your sisters yet live than would have survived artillery."

A flash of understanding in her eyes and his smile widened. Yes, she would come around, eventually, he would make sure of that.

"What will it be?" Extending his hand, he waited at she eyed it dubiously before making her decision. "Fine. Fine, but I'm not your damn pet."

Lark​

 

[Elani Zambrano]

With the departure of the sad and lonely Whiphid, Elani sighed deeply. A potentially strong warrior and ally in the fight to come defeated by mere words. Elani expected the males would be far too brutish and bloodthirsty to speak and instead charge into battle. Or perhaps her plan was far too complicated for the beast.

She thought no more on it and continued on.

"Very well. You two make your way to the home of the Howling Crag. May the Faceless One shall guide your blades." Elani nodded to the two eager warriors before they went on their journey.

"I will be leading the Murakami to the Great Canyon. Their heresy is centuries in the making and the time has finally come for them to suffer." Elani hissed. "The rest of you do what you must to bring the other clans to heel. No matter the cost. Once it is done, return here with word of your success or don't return at all."

Several Murakami acolytes dispersed from the kanyon and ran towards the Great Canyon. Soon, Elani followed after them, side by side with the maelridae that were set loose into the wilds. It would be a decently long journey, but the Murakami were agile and trained for this. They moved swiftly in their approach. It would only be an hour before they reached the Great Canyon, whereas others would take two to go by foot.

Sicarius Hekate | Lark | AMCO | Velok Brokentusk | Grand Moff Aut-X ​