The Polarity of Night

[Ellie Mors]

Pax Insul, c. 9470 BBY​

The dawn of an era on Pax Insul, however brief, began at the stroke of midnight with the birth of a pale child. The night had been unusually still, with only the wind blowing in from the north to bring a cool breeze across the tropical island, and her birth was heralded as an omen of either great or horrible events in the future of the world by the tribal elders of the small village she was brought into the galaxy in. With eyes as bright and piercing as the light that pierced the clouds in the morning light after the daily showers of rain, violet in color, and hair as dark as the night sky with the moon obscured, the child went unnamed until the early hours of the morning, when the sun shone through the clouds just prior to the routine showers that watered the tropical landscape. Exposed to the light, the babe cried out in pain - her skin literally burning, blotchy and red, as though she had spent hours in the light. Brought into the shade, hoping to save the child from an unfortunate and early demise, and for quick treatment of the sunburn, the tribal villagers were both horrified and amazed to see the child's skin spontaneously regenerate - healing right before their eyes. A name was bestowed on the infant for her incredible gift at birth, which they believed was of divine power - Braith, a name which literally meant "Black and White", to personify their patron deity.

 

[Ellie Mors]

Six years had passed since the enigmatic event that became known as the 'Birth of the Night' took place, six years that led to the teachings of the adolescent goddess in the ways of the tribal elder's control over the very forces of nature. The night was still fresh, the crisp midnight dew glimmering across the flowers that dotted the grassy hillside that shaded her with trees from the moonlight, and the air held a gentle breeze that came in from the north. A young child, a girl with long hair that was constantly cut to just below shoulder-length tied back behind her head, with piercing heterochromatic eyes, awaited the arrival of her appointed tutor, the tribal elder, Samsa. Eldest of the tribal leaders, a powerful Shaman and the man who prophesied her destiny being entwined with that of the very planet they lived on. "You are here early, little cherub." Came the gruff call of an older man coming up the hillside, towards the slight plateau where Braith waited patiently. The small child beamed at the man as she turned to face him, taking in his grayed, rugged, features. He was easily more than double her height - being that she was hardly a day over six years by the mortal's measurement of time, Braith hardly passed a meter in height - and the short, militaristic, trim of his hair lent to his age more than it took - though the unclean facial hair didn't quite help his plight. "What will we be learning today, Sasa?" The child asked politely, trying to keep her smile, though his lack of enthusiasm detracted from her own.

 

[Ellie Mors]

With an amused smile, the man gestured to the long metallic rod at his side, one which bore numerous engravings around the area his right hand currently rested over. "Today, and for much of our lessons in the coming years, Achlys, will be of your altering the world around you through sheer will. While I can imbue the powers of my words into my staff, you have already shown the gift for the unspoken." Samsa explained, alluding to the art that would become infamous across the galaxy as Sith alchemy - an art which was still in its infancy so far away from the then-unknown Sith Empire and the Galactic Republic. "We will start with little trinkets, perhaps a flower pendant for you to wear in your hair that will allow you to clear your mind - perhaps a locket to give you focus when you need it most - and then we will move on to the sorts of things I am used to making, enchanted staves to ward off the spirits of the .. well, to keep your spiritual servants at bay in their impulsive loyalty." Continued the elder, pausing only to catch himself as he spoke of their superstitious belief in spirits that their tribe associated with the night - thus with Braith, whom was the personification of such to them. Pulling a flower from beside the two of them, Samsa got down on his right knee to show the freshly plucked flower to the child - a girl who stared at it to admire its beauty first and to wonder what he meant to show her second. "What can a flower do to .. clear my mind?" Braith asked quietly, naive in her lack of education on the mysterious force that governed the galaxy - a force that had a darker side which the tribe consider to be the child-Goddess' detached psyche. "As the goddess of the night, little cherub, you are to one day wield this ability with far greater prowess than simply imbuing a flower with your potent potential, but for now we will focus on the 'what' rather than the how, little one." He replied, his hand illuminating the flower, and its immediate area, with little to no effort at all.

 

[Ellie Mors]

As though petrified by his touch, the flower stiffened and shimmered even without the continued application of whatever fanciful magic that Samsa had procured to alter the floral specimen's physical state. "Reach out with your heart, your mind, and your soul, Achlys, touch the flower with your thoughts and will the change to be. Be careful what comes into your mind, as thoughts are like fire - wild and difficult to control once started." The man explained as he handed the girl the flower, which she eagerly took in her hand to examine with childlike curiosity. "Sasa, when I touched the flower it made my other ideas go away - like playing in the fields - why?" Braith asked, genuinely confused as to why her thoughts of playtime were suddenly scattered. With a light chuckle and an elderly smile, Samsa took the child's hand and tucked the flower into her hair. "It has been enchanted to help you focus, little cherub. So your mind does not wander in our lessons. With it you will learn much more quickly without distraction. Now pick me a flower, I will show you how it is done." Samsa replied with a hearty grin, gesturing with his staff towards the small hill side with an abundance of small flowers dotting its side. Generally his students, most of whom were next in line to become the tribal elders of the following generation, were well into their journey to adulthood before they'd ever be taught the beginnings of this sort of thing, but being that she was to be raised as the personification of Braith herself it was imperative that she follow the same steps in tutoring as had been written of their great goddess that once walked the planet to bring the perpetual rains and clouds to obscure the sun during the night. Hours of instruction to simply create a small talisman of concentration seemed to have flown by, at the end of which an adolescent Braith finished her nightly lessons with Samsa with a floral necklace lined with them - though more than one of them had nearly no further impact on her concentration and focus. "Until tomorrow at the darkest hour, little cherub, and we will continue where we left off." He instructed as the two of them parted ways for the night, Braith leaving towards her hill-side cave-home where her nursemaids kept watch over her during the daylight and Samsa towards the lower elevations of the mountainous island, the tribe.

 

[Ellie Mors]

Dawn came far too soon for the child, who knew she could not venture out into the village - or even beyond the darkest portion of her small room fashioned from the back corner of the cave that had became her home. It would be hours before she could venture out, and almost a full day before she would go to see Sasa for her nightly lessons. Often times she spent the time alone in meditation, as Sasa had told her she should, but today she was unusually excited, a little hyper after the clarity of mind that came with her little flower hair-thing (she couldn't come up with a name for it, or pronounce the ancient words Samsa told her it was called). Little Braith wanted to be productive, but all she could do was sit in relative silence, blocked off from the outside by the sunlight that would burn her by simply touching its warm rays. It was the small things, like experiencing the warmth of first light, that the child envied her people for. While her gifts for picking up on what she was taught quickly were great, and her physical prowess were unrivaled among much of the villagers, Braith was practically secluded from the rest of her people, from the tribe that left offerings of food, flowers, and other worldly possessions at the foot of her cave. For all of her gifts, she was still a child - and one incompatible with the sun that was sworn to be her enemy. With a heavy, bored, sigh, the small child-goddess stood from her padded bed to reach for the tools her teacher had left for her to practice with.

 

[Darth Ferus]

​

​

Korriban, c. 9470 BBY​

​

Three years. It was three years ago that the Sith had come and killed his family and destroyed the small town he had called home. Hanchev, a pure blood Sith, had once lived in peace. A wife, a child, a job. Far away from any civilization on the desolate planet of Korriban, they lived in harmony and survived. But the Sith found them, a town on the holy grounds of their ancestors. The village was burned to the ground, the townsfolk slaughtered.

All save for one. Hanchev was spared for a single reason, his affinity with the Force. While the Pureblood had no knowledge of it, the Sith Lord that found him returning home after a hunting trip decided his fate was not death, but to become Sith. Forced to watch his family burn, a deep hatred for his now master blossomed, and would only be nurtured for the next three years.

Dranix, the name of the Sith Lord, was a cruel master. For the first 'training' Hanchev would receive he was subjected to countless hours of Force Lightning. To build a tolerance to pain was the initial reason given to the Pureblood, but just after the first five minutes of being strapped to a table and electrocuted to the point of near death he knew deep down in his darkening heart Dranix loved doing this. It didn't come as a surprise, but there was a hope for leniency. For mercy.

But mercy never came.

At first, Hanchev begged for the pain to stop. Bargained, cried. It would only stop when he was close to passing out. 'Can't have him enjoy the luxury of sleep on the job' Dranix said. Of course, the Pureblood had time to sleep, eat, go to the bathroom. But it was all under constant surveillance, and only when Dranix got bored or interested in something else.

Such luxuries were few.

Something big snapped within the Apprentice though during one of these sessions. The realization that no help would come and that this would never stop on it's own made Hanchev act. A powerful blast of the Force filled with malice and pure hatred for his own fate blew Dranix back, who had been caught by surprise.

For the first time in months, the lightning stopped. The first lesson was over.

The next couple of years were a blur to the Pureblood, filled with lessons on the history of the Sith and lightsaber arts. The aspect of a lightsaber never truly appealed to Hanchev though, and once he learned how to use the Force to fight it was rare he would even bring the simple blade out.

Now back to 9470, at the same moment [member="Braith"] was born the Sith Acolyte stood before an ancient Sith Tomb, one where his final challenge before becoming a true Sith apprentice to his master resided. Golden eyes stared upwards at the massive doors that was the entrance to this unnamed Sith Lords tomb.

Slowly red hands came up to rest against the smooth stone, and with an admittedly strained push, the doors spread wide open.

 

[Ellie Mors]

Dawn quickly became noon while the child experimented with the teachings she'd been taught for the last several nights - the basics of the alteration of things that were not living, like a dead flower freshly plucked. After the first several hours of wearing the little necklace of such talismans of concentration and focus, Braith had understood what the elder meant by altering the world around her with her thoughts - not unlike the thought-fueled movement of objects and people around her, but on a smaller - much smaller - scale. Perhaps it was the gift that Sasa had told her about, how quickly she caught on because of how early she had started learning at an almost religious pace. While the people of the tribe worshiped the shrine dedicated to her in the center of the village, she grew in knowledge, strength, and power to eventually aid them as a goddess could - to bless their crops, beat back the wilds, and to heal their sick. And all of that would come with time, time that was now being spent on the task of doing as her teacher had shown her - but modifying the attempts to do so. Where focus became willpower, she found her ability to affect these little flowers by the touch of her hand, or simply the willing of her thoughts, was drastically increased, though she was tired quickly thereafter. By the arrival of dusk, little Braith had discovered an assortment of ways to change the various flowers, pebbles, and other trinkets she had in her make-shift room - though she was still quite the amateur, being that she was practicing on little rocks and flowers - but regardless of her current ability, it was clear even to her that in years she would be just as able as her teachers, if not more so.

[member="Darth Ferus"]

 

[Ellie Mors]

Lessons at midnight were set to begin relatively soon, and it was finally dark enough for the child to venture out from her secluded little home in the hillside that overlooked the village that rested just at sea level. In truth, she was already beginning to feel far more important to the tribe than they were to her - a sense of importance that was already manifesting as arrogance, if you could call it that. She was, in fact, their goddess, a deity of the night that they prayed to in order to keep the almost scheduled rains coming. Part of her wondered if she was truly this formless woman they worshiped, this 'Braith', but with every offering given to her the flora and fauna of their large island flourished, as though the planet was appeased by their rituals and tributes. Braith had no want for their food - she never hungered, living purely off of the air, and sometimes lack thereof, without a single morsel of meat or vegetation needed to provide her sustenance. Of course she still ate, the taste it offered was delicious, but every night she found herself with aches and pains, as though her stomach hadn't developed much from her birth to deal with the consumption of actual matter. Sasa told her it had been her physiology as an immortal, that she didn't need to eat as the unspoken fed her - so it was imperative that she be taught to wield its might, to both create and someday destroy.

 

[Ellie Mors]

For now the elders settled on the more pleasant images of power, the healing, the construction, and they had been doing such for the last several years - since the moment she could walk, even before she could speak. The first words she had been spoken to were the beginnings of an incantation that she could now perform without the presence of her voice, and in some cases without the presence of active thought. To make a soft, brittle, flower solid and unyielding, resistant even to the squeeze of her rather remarkable strength, had been the first lesson they'd taught her - that she could infuse the essence of the night, the unspoken and unseen flow that they pulled from around them for their rituals and enchantments, to make objects nearly impervious to damage. Lessons like this continued well into her formative years, and she knew they would continue for at least another four - she was already learning things they meant to teach her personally on her own time, at the age of six no less. "Are you ready, little cherub?" Samsa's voice called, walking over the hilltop again to meet her in the same place as before. Lessons were always planned based on the night before, sometimes meaning she did the same thing twice, but today.. today she'd show Sasa just how much she learned, how much she picked up and made her own. That she knew what he meant to teach already. They'd advance their tutoring, she'd make sure of it. If not today, then tomorrow.

 

[Ellie Mors]

Braith nodded her head at Sasa's inquiry, though the bags under the her small, almost glowing, blue and violet eyes told many tales of just how long the child had been awake. "You look tired, Achlys, do you need rest? We can continue this tomorrow night, if it would help you." The elder asked, leaning against his tall metallic staff. Rather than speak, at first anyway, little Braith shook her head - she had much she wanted to learn, and it wouldn't just be little trinkets like she'd been making with him for the last year or so. She had a thirst for the knowledge now that it was coming to her so quickly, like a flood. "Teach me more, Sasa." The child-goddess replied, stifling a yawn. "Not the same stuff as yesterday, though, I want to learn more - lots more!" She explained, gesturing with outstretched hands to sort of.. quantify the 'lots' portion of her request. "Is that so? Perhaps you have learned to make those little trinkets of focus, little cherub, but even as the personification of Braith you must seek patience and control, it takes time to master the basics, and only after doing so can you hope to even touch the more advanced portions of this craft." Samsa chided as he knelt on one knee, glad the girl was still such a young child - lest he would have feared for his own personal safety with such firmness, knowing full well how gifted she was even at the age of six. Twenty-four seasons had passed from her birth to now, and already she was learning the sort of things that those next in line for the tribal elder positions would be taught in their mid-teens. He couldn't quite put a finger on it, but he sometimes wondered if time even mattered to the girl - she seemed to process the words he was saying even as he was saying it, when she was paying attention at least. An hour for him, in terms of meditation, seemed to be days for her - though he sometimes attributed her impatience with such - but even with her lack of patience considered, she was quickly understanding things that his own successor had only just recently moved on from - if she meant she had already delved into the crafting of other talismans, or even the alteration of existing ones, it would mean she was certainly the goddess they worshiped - and he himself had delivered her from a living, mortal, womb. It had been the Tribal elder's assertion that she be used as a scapegoat to control the masses more directly with offerings and greater expansion efforts from the village to eliminate stagnation in their border growth, but now he was wondering if she had indeed been just who they mockingly named her. A shiver ran through the man's spine, a ghostly chill, as though he had heard the chuckle of the wind, the mythical mother of the tribe's deity, Braith.

 

[Darth Ferus]

The pure smell of death washed out as the doors were pried open. A stench beyond that of rotting corpses, it was as if Death himself had walked through the tombs. But they were empty. There was nothing in sight but a simple cobweb in the upper corner of the chamber. This place, for a tomb, seemed rather dull. What ever Sith resided here did not have much to their name, and left behind even less.

Hanchev brought his saber to his hands however, for even though he did not use it the blade still provided a bit of comfort within such a dark place. His skin was crawling as fear set in. Sith were not immune to such feelings, in fact most drew power from it, but he was still new. The pureblood could not hide such emotions yet. As these challenges went however, there was to be another student vying for the same artifact he was. Dranix loved the idea of competition, but his seeming hatred for the pureblood translated in Hanchev's foe getting a head start.

Yet on the way here there was no sign of his rival. There was no sign of him within the tomb either. Farther the pureblood went though, his eyes gazing across the ground to look for some sort of trap. Each tomb had one. But there was nothing. Well, almost. Within the center of the tomb a pedestal. And atop it, a tablet. Quickly his form went to get to the tablet, and his eyes gazed over the artifact with understanding. The loss of ancient Sith text had not happened yet, and he read it like he read anything else.

There were many symbols, but only three words that actually meant anything.

It's a trap.

Eyes widened in horror as he read this, and quickly he turned to look about again, trying to find something, anything. Constantly his eyes scanned the ground, but there was nothing.

Clickclicklicklick.

It was high pitched chattering noise, like something rapidly rubbing against itself. Golden eyes continued to scan around as fear gave way to panic.

Clickclickclickclick.

Louder now, and getting closer.

Clickclickclickclickclick.

Coming from above.

Slowly the pureblood looked upwards, and what he saw caused his heart to sink to his feet.

A giant spider. A guardian of the tomb. Within it's mandibles Hanchev could recognize what was left of the leg of his rival. It seems the creature had taken him. Horror set in, and fearing for his life the man ran. Right for the exit he went, in an effort to escape this horror. But the doors closed as soon as he stepped off the altar. A thud sounded off behind him, and with a slow turn of his head he looked.

The alchemised spider was there.

And it was hungry.

[member="Braith"]

 

[Ellie Mors]

A short discussion - truly an argument - between the six year old and the tribal elder was immediately sparked after that brief pause. "There's no reason I shouldn't be taught new things, Sasa!" She whined, armed crossed over her chest with the most frustrated of frowns she could muster. Sasa, however, stood up against her complaining and thanked the gods that the child was still simply a child - her impatience and growth rate was both frustrating and astounding. "You won't be taught how to make weapons until I have been assured you are completely capable of performing every perceivable enchantment on these talismans." He snapped back, his brow knit tightly together. He sighed, more or less in defeat. "When you are older I will show you how I learned to make the staff I walk with, and how the other elders created their tools. But you are too little now, perhaps in a few years.. You are still but a child, a child should not worry about war and destruction as you do." Samsa explained with clear exasperation. Of course, the moment he said that he realized he'd just told the child that was said to be the personification of the potential destruction of their entire way of life that she wasn't fit for such. Or at least it sounded that way. Luckily, being that Braith was most certainly a child with a rather short attention span, she didn't make the connection and understood the reasoning behind his decision. "Fine.. but you have to teach me something else than, if not weapons than something to keep me safe!" Sasa chuckled at that and stood back up, leaning against his staff. "Alright, alright. No need to shout. We'll talk about how to make even the clothing on your back as protective as the armor on the tribal soldier's chests." The old man replied, having a slight idea of what could potentially happen if he had such a young wielder of the unspoken manage to create protective gear for their tribesman that the handful of elders, being weak and unwilling, were not able or willing to create. Surely she'd be regarded as a deity even more, perhaps she'd start to believe in herself as well.

 

[Disciple]

A long time ago in a galaxy that was decidedly the one he was in, Disciple set about refueling his bulk freighter at a quaint little space station. Well, it had been a quaint space station. Now it was one devoid of life - not that many inhabitants had called it home.

Their cooling bodies were being pulled back into the ruddy emergency lighting of his ship by creatures with lengthy claws and scythe-like appendages. They would help form new 'security' for his vessel, and this would be just another in a string of stations that seemed to have met an untimely and violent end.

It would be left here for people to find. It was fairly far out in the Outer Rim - nearly to Wild Space. There was apparently a delicious world near here. He could almost hear the murmur of life it represented all the way from here.

Stepping through a dark puddle with his grey boot, Disciple adjusted the way his newly acquired rebreather mask set on his face. As a Sith of medium height and slim build, he opted to blend in by hiding himself away. A set of cargo pants were bloused into black boots, a long sleeved jacket with voluminous hood pulled up found itself secured by a tactical vest.

Said vest was festooned with blades and vials of unidentifiable liquids in a kaleidoscope of color. Hitting the airlock button behind him, he made his way to the cockpit.

He would find this world.

He would find it and he would ruin it. He hungered; and it was a hunger only death could satisfy. Disciple grinned behind bug lenses, staring into the void of space as his ship detached from the docking collar and made for deep space on sublight engines.

The hyperspace point wasn't far.

[member="Braith"]

 

[Ellie Mors]

Four years had passed from the start of the small child's entry into the art of alchemy as an art of material defense - creating small objects first of mental protection, and then later the methods of creating metals that could withstand even the flames of the blacksmith's forge, a forge which the young girl, now ten, had the pleasure of working as an apprentice for the last two years. If not for her incredible strength and odd attention to detail - her ability to perceive smaller things and take greater care during her work at a pace that was quite remarkable for a girl of all things - it was likely that the young goddess would have been kept to trinkets and other oddities. But her own physical strength already dwarfed that of the burly man that was teaching her the ways of the hammer, anvil, and flame; a trait which exceeded even the animals of the wilds that occasionally wandered into the village. The elder, Samsa, has stopped visiting as often, having taught her the ways of created small pendants, amulets, and was only stopping by on occasion to check on her abilities as an able apprentice blacksmith and to ensure she was still practicing alchemy with every pounding of her hammer. And hammer she did; Braith had already been regarded as the deity Braith incarnate, and now she was both repairing and on some occasions forging new armor with the touch of alchemy to harden its protective qualities. Arrows and other primitive weapons would not pierce the pieces she worked, and the more advanced technologies of the mainland seemed to generally reflect right away from their smooth surfaces. Physical projectiles were another issue entirely, but they were generally only able to pierce through the material due to her lack of actually created the armor or shields herself - being only an apprentice it meant that she did only the jobs her mentor would not, and as such was the case it meant that she had not yet reached the skill to be the one to forge the armors and weapons of her tribe and also meant her gift with alchemy would not protect them.

 

[Ellie Mors]

Even as the ten year-old Braith struck her hammer down on the hot and pliable steel she shimmied her hand slightly at an angle, pounding out what would have been a slight depression in the evening of the plate - a reduction in quality. Her eye for detail was great, if not because of her own sensitivity to the smaller things and her strange ability to process information faster than it was given to her then because she seemed to enjoy the process of alchemy - almost as much as she enjoyed influencing the weather slightly every evening before nightfall. Standing beside the young Alua'an was her mentor, Nim. The man was tall, he was incredibly well-toned, and most of all he was the tribe's resident blacksmith. Every piece of armor was touched in some way by his hands, hammered by his mallet, thinned on his anvil, and forged in his fires. Even with the guidance of the source and her own strange perceptive abilities, the young Alua'an was still but a mere amateur compared to the master blacksmith that was Nim. With half-closed eyes, squinting, the bald man observed the young Braith work, occasionally stopping her to shout and tell her that she was doing things wrong. It was his way of giving her attention, almost in a fatherly way - just without the emotional ties of such. Master and apprentice they were, and while the girl was still just that - an apprentice - it was clear she was learning quickly. If her own skills with her hands and eyes were not enough the source certainly kept her moving at the right pace with its unspoken and unseen guidance, like the slight tilt of her hammer just moments before almost on instinct - a gift that the blacksmith himself had only learned after years of practice, which the girl had several years under her belt now as well. A ten year old hammering away at what would soon become the chest plate of a suit of armor - who would have thought! The day she had shown up on his door step with Samsa the elder and informed him that she would be serving as his apprentice for the next half decade, or however long he felt was necessary to learn the trade and be sufficient enough to practice on her own time, Nim had thought the two to be insane; but today she was doing work much more efficiently and with much greater quality than his previous apprentice.

[member="Disciple"]

 

[Disciple]

Rare are the times in life when you can see Death coming for you. Often his company is only for those with scorch marks on their chest, struggling for air, or those laying in a hospital bed, monitor counting every beat of their heart until finally a single, flat note marks the end of their time in this galaxy. But if you're truly unlucky, and you're in the Outer Rim or further yet, sometimes you'll see Death walking right towards you.

This is not to say it is a single entity, however, no, it's a river. A slithering, crawling, lumbering river. Disciple had a copious amount of time on his hands, and a complex that said he needed to ruin the lives of all those around him so he could feel powerful. It was this that caused him to set his beasts loose upon this world, hunting for the Force Sensitives he could feel but not pinpoint.

The Force was not exact. It was a generality. Such was the way of things, though it often proved irksome.

Having landed his freighter just in from the beach, he'd opened the holds and let his alchemized playthings have a taste of freedom. Moving forward, breath hitching in his chest, Disciple teetered and swayed his way across the island. It had seemed the whole world was islands, an annoyance but also a blessing; there was only so many places to hide. Pallid lips were scraped over by a dry tongue, and milky eyes blinked through the sunlight filtering through bug lenses.

Were it not for his garb, he could have likely passed for one of his ghouls given his shambling gait and limp arms. But just like them, he stubbornly persisted in moving forward, sometimes stumbling, always catching himself.

"Where are you." He sputters in a liquid-infused voice, coughing violently the next moment. Disease tortured him, marred him. Such was his burden to bear. A small price to pay.

Little did he know he was looking for a child.

Little did she know what was coming for her.

[member="Braith"]

 

[Ellie Mors]

[media]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5lRc3eAtWNM[/media]​

The ten year-old was sitting idly in the back of her small cave, the place that had been renovated to be used as her home, while she watched the sunlight from the safety of the shadows of her abode. Several shadows - which she had presumed to be clouds - passed over the entrance, blotting out the rays of the sun that she both loved and despised. It was the warmth of the light that she wanted, but to be her - to be Braith - meant eternal confinement to the chilling darkness, forever to remain cold and uncomfortable. But already she had began to grasp the ability to create clouds that blotted the light out just beyond the entrance to her home, to let her walk outside just for a few moments before the light would shine through and force her back into her hole. If not for all her learning, life would have been much more miserable than it already was for the supposed goddess. A short sigh escaped her lips as she leaned back against the wall, her hands preoccupied with braiding the long hair that she pulled over her shoulder and came down to her stomach. A slight chill ran up her spine and rubbed against her forearms like the chill before a rain, however the air was not moist and she could not taste the wetness in the breeze that cooled her home. Being a child, Braith was not one for understanding omens of concern - the feeling of foreboding that accompanied certain doom and instilled fear in the hearts and minds of the knowing. An inaudible whisper tickled her ears, words which seemed to be more of a dream than reality, and the child tilted her head and blinked. It seemed mean, sinister, and dark in nature. From what she had been told from as far back as she could remember, she was the embodiment of the darkest spirits - personification of night itself - but there was another figure in their religious cult that was worshiped as an evil, one far greater in malice than she.

"Thorn?"

[member="Disciple"]

 

[Disciple]

Through the brush they went, his creations forming a staggered vanguard before him. They formed a haphazard line, advancing forward with whatever locomotion they'd been allowed to have. The environment was dense, but it hardly seemed to slow them despite repeated falls, and before long they were making their way through a village. Each of the creatures was homed in on the target their Master was, and paid little to not mind unless disturbed.

Those which were, should anyone be dumb enough to do so, would find themselves swiftly descended upon in what could only be termed an orgy of violence.

And leading up the rear came the maestro, a decrepit wreck of a humanoid who moved as though a stiff breeze may topple it without so much as a second chance for getting back on his feet. "I hunger." It says in that same gurgling rasp, the sound of liquid struggling through nearly clogged piping. Without stopping, it moved to the path and up towards the cave. Of course, keep the prize away from the rest of the population.

"Come hither, dearest..."

Its voice carried easily on the light breeze trailing behind it, its presence in the Force terrifying in its power. The frosty touch of terror settled in those around it, until his form blocked the entrance to the cave, his shoulders slumped, hands swaying from side to side as a means of keeping himself balanced. "I'm home."

What it meant, well, who knew.

His 'help' formed a cordon facing the village, not needing any interference. Force Sensitives were a delicacy, especially out here. Where had this one sprung from?

[member="Braith"]

 

[Ellie Mors]

Braith peered up from the ground that had been occupying her sight for the last several minutes, completely lost in thought - or something along those lines - while completely oblivious to the fact that her island had been invaded and her home surrounded. Standing at the entrance to the cavern, blocking the light from truly entering even the shortest of distances in, was what appeared to be a deformed old man. A request for healing? A last rite? Even as a child she had done both of these at least once, the latter traumatizing the woman that had once taken care of her - until she passed as well. The young deity incarnate slid up the wall, pushing up with her feet and feeling for support with her hands, and looked towards him with curious, glowing violet eyes. His words were anything but sincere - at least in the context and tone of his voice - but they seemed much more alluring to the child than a simple hello or cry for help would have, and she walked steadily towards its source, keeping to the wall as to not be burned by the touch of the sunlight's rays. Where an adult in her position might have been frightened, Braith was ignorant to the dangers of the Sith Lord, her curiosity more beholden by his perceived wounds - or whatever it was that made him appear so sickly. The only fear she had known was to be alone; and here was a stranger coming to visit, a new one, someone not from the village below. "Who are you?" The girl asked rather bluntly, still staring, though searching for his eyes - something she always thought were the most interesting part of the mortals that spoke to her. They were usually dull, not as vibrant as hers, but they always told a story. Samsa had a dull brown pair that told of disappointment and hardship, while Nim's were sad and cold - blue. But the man in front of her now, she was having trouble seeing - it was as though the source itself was beckoning to his presence, something she was told would happen to her when she matured. "Do you need help?" She prodded, leaning forwards to peer closer - trying to see better in this contrast from absolute darkness of the cave to the bright sunlight that flooded the cliffside behind him. It wasn't that she had poor eyesight, it was just him. The stranger reeked of the dead, and though it didn't frighten her, nor alarm her, she wondered if the whisper that had reached her before was a hint towards him. Was he Thorn?

[member="Disciple"]

 

[Disciple]

It exhaled, the single last breath of a dying man if every breath were to sound so. Moving into the cave and towards her, his creatures blocked the cave entrance, providing enough shade for her not to burn. Placing a palm on the wall, he guided himself towards her and then lowered himself to the ground in a manner that described great pain throughout the entirety of his body.

Settling on the floor, his glazed, milky eyes scanned her from beneath his hood. "The sun hurts, child, does it not?" He asks. "The Light of Day isn't for all, especially those who make their home in the Dark." He was not referring to the actual cycle of planetary rotations. Giving a quiet, sickly cackle as he sat there, he shook his head. "No help is required for me. You would be unable to do so.

You lack the skill."

It was a blunt assessment, one that implied he knew how 'right' he was, and thus he would not be swayed. "Why do they sequester you here?" She was young, pure, and would likely be achingly beautiful when she matured. But for now she was but a child. One with little fear, perhaps born of innocence. Given her apparent situation, it was likely just ignorance rather than any lack of life experience.

An interesting turn of events.

They would talk, until he grew bored. Then, well, time would tell.

[member="Braith"]