The Sound of Silence

[Shakti Sweet]

​

It was late, and the last remnants of the suns light had faded from the horizon...​

​

A gentle breeze from the North lifted the hems of her robes, glowing embers blowing passed her soot smeared cheeks. Her blood stained hands slid free of her massive belled sleeves as she raised them, slicking back several errant strands of her disheveled bob. With a visibly deep inhale her eyes slid slowly open, sweeping across the devastation she had wrought. The village had been small - four or five modest homes tucked into a neat mountain valley, surrounded by low fields that had been cleared following the recent harvest. A creek that flowed just off the fields seemed clear and calm, and babbled just below the sounds of the flames that wreathed the entirety of it all...


With her fingers resting gently against the cowled hood about her shoulders she shifted her stance, the membrane that acted as a second lid to her eyes fluttering across the surface as another gentle gust of ash blew through the air. Her eyes lazily flicked across the ground, sweeping over several charred lumps of flesh, and gauging them by their size to be livestock she continued to move her gaze back to the slowly burning homes. The bloodied humanoid figures laying strewn across the doorways there caused the corners of her lips to tug a fraction upwards... Corpses of the residents not yet consumed by the flames.


Her hands slowly lowered from her collar, leaving bloody smudges as they disappeared once more into the voluminous sleeves. She flexed her fingers a fraction, feeling the dried blood there crack and stick. Her eyes fluttered closed once more as she inhaled deeply through her nose... Burnt flesh and ash... Wondrous. She could almost taste the cloying remnants of the screaming in the air... She could stay here all night, breathing in the ash and death, but there was an item she needed.


Her eyes snapped open as she glanced over her shoulder, the only small home not yet being licked by the flames that engulfed everything else stood cold, dark, and waiting. She turned swiftly on the balls of her feet, her cloak sweeping across the settled ash on the ground as she began to stride forward. She pushed through what remained of the shattered front door and continued into the still darkness within. There were no bodies here, no blood and no stench of fresh death - just the flickering glow of the bright flames from across the tiny square dancing through the windows. Her eyes darted wildly around the interior until she spotted a small box on one of the high wooden shelves. Without missing a beat she stepped forward, snatching it with her blood-covered fingers and pulling it into her chest. She spun around once more and hurried from the home, a glance to her left showing the long grasses against the side of the home were starting to catch flame.




It took her nearly five minutes to walk herself clear of the village and to the river she'd noted before - not bothering to glance back as the fire consumed and destroyed everything she'd left behind. She gathered her robes up to her knees and knelt beside the water, laying her prize in the dirt beside her as she rolled her sleeves up to her elbows and plunged them into the frigid water. She scrubbed hard, working the blood from under her nails and between the creases of her flesh. Once she was satisfied that the flesh was scourged, she sat back on her heels, tucking her robes under her knees and gathering the small box into her lap.


With a quick flick of her wrist the latch on the tiny wooden box was undone, and the simple wooden lid thrown back... Empty. It was empty.


Her breathing ground to a halt, a rumble in her chest causing her fingers to quake as her skin slowly drained of colour - dull gold turning to a pale silvery grey, looking waxy as the moon. Her jaw clenched tightly enough that the sound could be heard in the calm of the night, teeth grinding against one another. Her fingers dug into the wood as she lifted the box, slowly bringing it to eye level before she flung it wildly into the river. Her fists slammed down into the dirt at her sides as she tossed her head back, lips parting to scream silently to the sky.

Those useless smoldering lumps of human trash behind her were already dead... But she'd pay handsomely for the chance to slaughter them all over again.​

 

[The Wayfarer]

The Wayfarer wandered aimlessly through the night. The star's lit his path as he meandered through the thin forest towards what he hoped was civilization, or at least some semblance of it. The wind licked at his red robes and they waved lazily behind him. Hand resting on his katana he drifted ever onward and soon saw a bright light in the distance. At first he thought it to be a town, but the lingering smell of smoke told him otherwise.

He made his way through the open field and found the source of the fire. A small smoldering village. Soot filled the air and he kicked up the ashes of those who did not escape it's wrath with each step of his sandled foot. Figures sat in doorways charred to the bone, obviously having attempted to make an escape, but finding only the rapture of flames. The Ronin sighed at such a waste of life, but he had seen worse. Death through accident was simply a natural part of this existence and so he did not question it. Although he did find it somewhat peculiar how no one escaped the fire. Surely someone arose from their slumber at the burning smell. He felt out with the force searching for some sign of life but found none. He proceeded to kneel and said a silent prayer for the dead. After giving these poor souls their last rights he stood and turned to leave.

His billowing pants were now covered in ash, but it bothered him little. He made his way back into the foliage and wandered for a small time until he came across a river. He followed the pristine stream until he thought he sensed something in the force. Another being that seemed... Twisted. He made his way to the life form and was surprised when he spied a woman in flowing robes bathing her arms in the river. Coughing rather loudly The Wayfarer announced his presence. Without waiting to see whether she noticed him or not he began to speak

"Excuse me, might you know what happened to that village?" He inquired as he approached her from the side.

He made no move towards his sword, but something told him he should. He crouched next to her and looked at her reflection within the river. He would've thought her features of a simple nature if it weren't for the tattoos all over her neck and face. The breeze returned and he knew the river was chilled. he wondered who would be bathing at such an ungodly hour, but did not say anything. The soot on her frame told him she had indeed come from the fire. Perhaps she was in shock?

"I can see you safely to the next village, if you'll allow it," He said as he stood and patted his sword, offering the woman a reassuring smile at the same time.

[member="Shakti Sweet"]

 

[Vice]

Vice always enjoyed the black cloak which blanketed the sky, filled with moth-holes of light of distant systems, distant struggles, distant life. Even upon the world he spent many of his years, the dreaded red wasteland it was, the night and the wailing wind were his companions. Spared from the heat of the sun and given refuge in the cold wrapping of the breeze. He would love nothing more than to remain in its grasps this night, but something had drawn him here. A light tug, causing the foul swordsmen to follow the whims of this pull.

The scent of smoke dusted the landscape, invisible yet noticeable, and across the horizon the last orange embers and dying pillars of smoke acted like a beacon for any that sought it out. Reaching out faintly with the force he sensed little life, and if any remained it would drift from this world into the next in moments- And then two signatures, one familiar, the other foreign. Familiarity was always dangerous, having known so few that could be considered friendly.

Vice pressed on with the same curiosity which plagued felines, slowing his movements to light steps as he furtively approached. The audible murmuring of water touched his senses, a break from the silence he was subject to during his travel.

Uttered words, initially unintelligible to his ears, caused the man to crouch low until the two were finally in his sight. A scowl crossed his face at the sight of the Wayfarer, while not an enemy they were on dubious terms. His inquisitive nature, though, brought him to the other. Seemingly disheveled, both in physically and emotionally.

With no intention of interacting with them he merely watched from a distance.

[member="Shakti Sweet"] | [member="The Wayfarer"]

 

[Shakti Sweet]

She could feel the ragged breath in her throat, her chest heaving as she sought to control the rage that surged like the fires she'd set - the sound of the blood rushing in her ears masking the approach of the light footed Ronin. Her eyes burned with tears that wouldn't easily be blinked away, and she bowed her head forward to gaze angrily into the water. It wasn't until his face appeared in the river before her, reflected back in the gently flowing water that she realized anyone else was there. Stupid. Foolish. Careless.

Shak's face immediately fell flat, the emotion that had been present a moment before lost behind a serene mask. Her breathing calming once more in a way that spoke of practice. Her eyes remained locked on his reflection as he spoke, and she kept herself perfectly still - a tension entering every sinew of her body as she waited to determine what sort of threat this new life form presented. He wasn't dressed as the villagers had been... There wasn't a one she hadn't accounted for. Who the hell was this man? When he stood she jolted visibly, hands jerking towards her sides as her sleeves rolled back down to shield them. She snapped her teeth once, chiding herself for the movement and fell still again, watching in the reflection as he patted the butt of his sword, standing.

She very slowly leaned away from him, pushing herself up into a crouch and tugging the robes back down below her knees. She lowered her eyes to the ground and slowly stood, keeping her gaze lowered as she put a step or so between them and turned to face him. She lifted her chin, allowing the dim light from the sky above to illuminate a gnarled lump of scars across her throat. Shakti lifted one of those massive sleeves to motion to the scarring and lifted her eyes to his, meeting them directly for the first time. Her eyes were schooled to stillness now as well, regarding him silently.

She lifted one of those large bell sleeves and motioned from him to the horizon to the south, leading from the valley and to where she knew the nearest village to be. She put a gentle tremor into the movement as well, stepping back and motioning him to lead.


[member="The Wayfarer'] | [member="Vice"]

 

[The Wayfarer]

The Wayfarer watched as the woman sat crouched beside the river. She seemed to flinch at his standing and he made a mental note not to move so quickly around her. Slowly and carefully she stood shortly after himself. He spied the inkling of light reflect of her cheek, had she been crying? More likely it was simply river water. Then again perhaps she had lost something in the fire. Whatever the case was his attention was drawn to the scars on her throat as she motioned to them with her hand and he had to stop himself from raising his brow in curiosity. Whatever she had been through it went beyond the village and the Ronin understood why she might flinch at the simplest of movements.

He felt for such people, those who had seen the cold hand of pain and truly knew suffering was best done in silence... His hand moved away from the sword at his side as he realized he was probably only scaring the girl.

The Drifter's attention was drawn to another presence and his mind raced with questions of what what predator with such a signature might be lurking through the forest. He steeled himself and very casually placed himself between the woman and the possible danger.

"Please, lead the way," He asked of the mute, but somehow his words came across as a demand.

He probed the new presence without looking directly at it. It was a hungering darkness that somehow threatened to envelop everything around it. It felt like a root that evil had buried itself with. Something that had seeded upon it's birthing. Old and distinguished. Sin in physical form. The Wayfarer had felt this evil before although at the time it had not presented itself as a direct threat. But now, now may be a different story. As the woman and Wayfarer started down their path he spoke to the presence.

"I know you. Won't you come out and join us?" The Drifter asked in a serious voice that again belittled the fact he had asked a question instead of making a demand.

Whether the familiar chose to rear his head or he choose to remain amongst the shadows, his presence was now known to both himself and The Wayfarer. He could continue to lurk in the shadows or he could walk with them, but either way the Wayfarer would keep a wary eye upon his presence. Something about this place was rank with suspicion and the Drifter felt he would have to tread carefully lest he be caught in the maw of something darker than either individuals before him.

[member="Shakti Sweet"]
[member="Vice"]

 

[Shakti Sweet]

Her demeanor didn't change much as his grip loosened and moved away from the sword at his hip, still tense and apprehensive as he barked what she guessed may have been intended as a request at her to lead them. She schooled her face to stillness, her eyes lowering once more as she nodded gently in assent, her upper body bending a modicum at the waist. Shakti took a careful step backwards to keep him in her sights as she turned and began to walk at a brisk pace, following the river as it gently meandered south. They hadn't taken more than a few steps when she heard him speak again however, calling to someone else she had not heard approach.

Stupid. Worthless. Idiot.

She took the opportunity while his attention was diverted to reach her hands back behind her, the tips of her freshly scoured fingers brushing the metal of the twin blades concealed there. The metal was warm from being so close to her skin, tight against her back and below the folds of her robes. They were just where they were meant to be, the leather sheaths holding them snug - it had a calming effect on her that very few things could provide.

She let her hands swing back lazily to her sides as she lifted her eyes once more, the nictitating member flicking across the surface once as she squinted into the darkness and dampened her breathing. She couldn't hear whatever was out there, but it was getting a bit too busy around here considering what she'd done... She didn't need an audience to her havoc.

[member="The Wayfarer"] | [member="Vice"]

 

[Vice]

His signature could be felt across the distance, the novice had know knowledge as to how he might conceal himself, and with the voice of the swordsman calling to him his only choice was to reveal himself. He revealed himself among the environment, a black figure among freshly harvested fields. Moonlight illuminated pale flesh and a blank visage without both beauty and blemish. He closed the distance, taking careful and methodical steps.

The bronzed blade in his possession lacked in subtlety, a blister upon the horizon if seen through the force. Dark whispers and foul chiding like flexing tendrils, full of an unquenchable, gluttonous, hunger.

"You are too trusting," Vice's words came crisply, a slight voice lacking in love or luster. "Happen upon a ragged mess and you ask not a question?" Hazel orbs glanced towards the mute accusingly. The scent of charcoal still fresh in his memory. He had know way of knowing what happened to the village, beyond what sights and simple investigations the eyes could present, and on the same note he truly cared little.

While he held no love for the loss of life, it also held little weight upon his shoulders. Vice was no defender of the meek, or avenger of the dead. More a wandering fool with a fell blade. But caution awarded safety, a lesson all too easily learned when facing adversity.

"Speak," the swordsman directed in an emotionless tone, motioning with an outstretched hand, unaware of the silent nature of the apparent survivor. "How did this come to be, I do not see the footfalls of raiders."

[member="Shakti Sweet"] | [member="The Wayfarer"]

 

[The Wayfarer]

The Wayfareer watched as Vice emerged from the shadows. A figure clad in black robes that seemed to almost absorb the light around him. The man was depraved and had no conscious for anyone else. He cared only for himself and how he might further his own goals. Such was expected from a creature who had slunked around evil tombs and haunted desert waste all his life. Such evil The Wayfarer had pledged himself against. A righteous cause and a curse. For true, those destined to fight were destined to die or kill. Such was the Ronin's path, to battle for peace but never attain it.

As the polar opposites stood across from each other it seemed true that a fight would break out. But then Vice posed a peculiar question. How was it that this woman was the only one to escape? It was a question that perplexed the Ronin, but one that he should've asked sooner. Regardless the drifter knew he would get no answers from her. He sighed and eyed her with a look of pity. For surely one who understood suffering would not want to inflict it on others? So he wondered, would this girl with the scars truly hurt the innocent so? Inflict such pain, torment a soul so?

Still he found the clues built to an answer that was likely true. Yes.

This woman was one of evil, but as lost as she was, despite the seething rage buried deep inside her that the Ronin could sense. He could not help but feel perhaps she could be saved. He knew in his heart of hearts she had burned the village. She had slaughtered every living being in it's place. But, no one was beyond redemption not her, not vice and even not himself. Perhaps the Ronin thought, perhaps if he helped her he might reestablish his connection with the light. Find the death and eternal bliss he so desperately sought. Even if he didn't find nirvana he thought perhaps it would be a stepping stone in the right direction. So, he played dumb. He eyed the woman again and this time he offered her a sympathetic smile.

Surely one who had been through so much was bound to be confused. This the Wayfarer understood.

"You are being foolish, this woman is simply a survivor of such a catastrophe," The Wayfarer spoke to Vice. "You may join us on our journey, an extra blade is always helpful," He said to the man clad in black.

[member="Vice"]
[member="Shakti Sweet"]

 

[Shakti Sweet]

Her ears picked up on the foot-falls of Vice before she caught sight of him. Another sure footed man, though the soft rustle of his robes was more interesting... The faint hint of fabric brushing against metal - but not the classical sound of a saber in a sheath, no... Interesting. Her eyes darted from the cloaked figure to the hilt protruding over his shoulder and her nose crinkled a fraction, showing a hint of the distaste that was beginning to mount for her situation. She'd watched this village for a week with nary a visitor - and in less than an hour after her slaughter had concluded there were two strangers here. Unlucky indeed.

She straightened a modicum as the Ronin turned back to her, Shakti's head tilting a fraction to regard him with expressionless eyes as he spoke to her once more about what misfortune she had suffered here. Whatever luck had brought them together, it was holding true to be fortuitous that her didn't suspect her of any wrong doing. This new man, however... She let her eyes slowly drag over to him and let just an ounce of her displeasure leak into them. With several short movements she lifted her arms before her and used her fingers to roll the cuffs of her sleeves upwards. Two simple leather belts inside the large bells allowed her to fasten them in the rolled up position. From there it was apparent that the white tattoos that decorated her face and neck continued down onto her arms as well, splayed across well toned muscle and ending just before her elbows in long, spine-like tendrils.

She glanced once between her original companion and the new one before motioning with her fingers, using her fore and middle fingers along with her thumb to make a beak-like shape and tapping them together three time sharply. She motioned back to the village and then motioned again quickly, making four simple signs with her right hand. A circle with her forefinger and thumb, the other three fingers extended straight - a fist with only her pinkie extended - her forefinger and middle finger crossed - and an open palmed fist, thrust out before her.

She then turned the hand upward and wiggled all five fingers skyward, mimicking flames. There were those in the galaxy that spoke sign - but she wasn't positive that it would be either of these two.

[member="The Wayfarer"] | [member="Vice"]

 

[Vice]

A hint of emotion intruded upon his traditional straight-laced guise, and it was one of stupidity. Vice watched the fluttering of fingers and hands as though it were a foreign entity. The survivalist possessed little knowledge of languages beyond Basic, let alone this alien 'sign'.

Composing himself he merely shook his head, recollecting himself. "That did not answer any of my questions, but I have no way of divining your answers." Once her motions had slowed Vice allowed his eyes to travel along the alabaster tattoos, his mind trying to discern their meaning. If they possessed any at all. An equal amount of distaste matched the Mute's.

He scrutinized the both of them, as if regarding the Wayfarer in a new arrogant light, and surmising what he can from her. "You can go on without me, I am sure that blade of yours is enough to sustain yourself against whatever you might face." Vice then motioned to the glowing town, running a finger across his index as he does so. "I shall see what is left of the handiwork of whoever-" deliberately pausing with a sharp glace towards the Mute. "Could have done this, perhaps see if there is... Anything salvageable, and bury what is left of the dead."

[member="Shakti Sweet"] | [member="The Wayfarer"]

 

[The Wayfarer]

The Wayfarer watched the woman make her strange signs, as she did he saw that more tattoos spiraled up her arms. Perhaps the tattoos were of a clan or some sort of servitude markings? Whatever they were he did not know and of whatever she was signing he understood even less. Finally discerning flames he thought perhaps she was telling Vice his actions would be fruitless. For true the inferno that had consumed the village had surely left nothing of the corpses or houses but ash by now.

The mystery surrounding the young woman was deepening and the drifter was determined to figure it out. On top of these things he was still unsure she was the reason for the fire, but even so his suspicions leaned strongly towards her being guilty. But, he knew he would never know for sure. At least not until he saw this adventure through to the end. On top of this their was the Dark Robed man. Why was it that the force continued to bring these two men together? Opposites that shared nothing in common, but somehow seemed to be bound as if they were brothers. Perhaps the Robed man was the Evil Shogun reincarnate? Perhaps it was The Wayfarer's chance to finally make amends? The Ronin shook his head at such thoughts, their was no hope for these things...

The Wayfarer eyed the Man in Black curiously, then in a boisterous voice said "You should come with us, I insist!" A smile was splayed across his face and hands rested on hip.

Better the evil you know then the one you don't the Wayfarer decided and hoped this man Vice would agree to join them. He could sense the force within the Mute and did not know the extent of her powers. If he needed help subduing her he hoped it might come in the form of Vice. But, knowing the Dark robed man it was just as likely he'd turn on the both of them as he was to assist either of them...

[member="Vice"]
[member="Shakti Sweet"]

 

[Shakti Sweet]

Shakti watched with little surprise as there was no dawning of understanding in either of the men. Of course they didn't speak Galactic sign... It's not like it was a well known language, but there was always a chance she could make herself understood with a smidgen more expediency. Hearing the two of them speak of either going back or going on, she rolled her eyes in an exaggerated fashion, shrugged her shoulders to settle her sleeves comfortably about her elbows and turned back towards the south. Her eyes scanned the faint black outlines of the mountains against the slightly hazy sky, the smoke from the flames having not been carried out of the valley just yet. If she was alone she might spend more time here, but given the currently company it seemed a better idea to put some distance between herself and what she'd done.

She began walking once more, her robe flaring out about her ankles as she continued to follow the river's banks out of the valley. If Vice and her new Ronin friend wished to follow, she would be glad to get them away from the village as well - and once out of the valley she could be rid of them both. She shot a look over her shoulder, the dim light from the moon through the smoke glinting off her eyes in a way that resembled a large cat in the dark, and jerked her chin to motion them to follow.

[member="The Wayfarer"] | [member="Vice"]

 

[Srina Talon]

The white-haired woman was pulled all over the Galaxy by visions of fleeting images. She was blessed with a feeling. A sensation, which often, led to a particular set of coordinates. The listless Echani did not often know why these visions pulled from the ether, nor, could she predict when they would suddenly have her parading the Ferocity all over the verse. The young woman simply knew not to fight it. There were consequences that could not be avoided. It was simply the will of the Force.

The ethereal balance would see it done.

Srina found herself standing on the far edge of a village that was still burning. Silver eyes, moon touched, curled around the smoke and against the ash. The area reeked of death. It was a scar, a blight, on the planet that told a story any young apprentice knew. She could follow the charred corpses like a story unfolding. The scent of death, the phantom wail of pain, was all part of the orchestra by which this act had been committed.

Her heart did not weep. Her soul did not tremble. The slender creature had seen such wanton waste before. In the Core. She’d coughed up ash from her lungs for weeks afterward. With that in mind she brought her cloak a little tighter, moving away from the winds, versus with them. She needed to be able to see with all of her senses. There was no need to accept the destruction as a viable distraction.

Her attire did not suit this world. It did not suit a plane of villages and muddy streets. From head to toe, she was swathed in white, which was slowly turning a shade of grey. Her presence would be suppressed. Delicate footsteps pulled her forward. There was nothing about her form that did not exude grace. It was the nature of her species, versus, something that had been learned. She knew how to move without making a sound. Her eyes, Echani, missed nothing.

Her extra senses led the way toward three individuals. Two, near one another. Another making the approach? White-gold hair slipped from her hood, glimmering like starlight, and a darker presence made itself known to her. Familiar. So, he had decided to heed her call. “Adron.”, she breathed, holding her hand out to the much taller man, as she often did. She was his opposite in every way. Whilst some likened her to a celestial being, or a ghost, her partner was entirely visceral. Solid.

“Walk with me.”

She was a creature of few words, however, he would know to move with her. They were more familiar with each other than individuals, who weren’t lovers, had any right to be. But it was so. He would follow her to the edge of the world, and she, would follow him. Sightless, mercurial eyes, swept over the dying horizon. The ivory shimmersilk of her clothing raked along the ground. She wore a traveling dress that held tight to her hips before producing a flare of elegance. The sides were split, straight to her thigh, with protective leggings beneath, to allow ease of movement.

Her vision grew complicated. She could see the flames, a box, and a woman… Where was she?

“There. They are departing.”, she nodded in the direction of the trio that seemed as if they were beginning to leave. She could not see the face of the female. It didn’t matter. She had seen it before. Over, and over. She had seen actions, deeds, in their barest forms…But the one thing her visions always lacked?

A voice.

Tag: [member="The Wayfarer"] | [member="Vice"] | [member="Adron Malvern"] | [member="Shakti Sweet"]

 

[Malok]

We Are One.​

And yet again, there was Ash.

It seemed the story of the Demon was punctuated by the Fire. Whether it was the flames of Mandalore consuming his flesh, or the ash of Coruscant caking his lungs - the life of Darth Metus was never a stranger to the pyre. In a time long since passed, this reality would have been jarring to the Sith. A much younger, infinitely more naive man would have balked at the notion that solely destruction walked alongside him. Yet, in the present, he welcomed this reality as one did an old friend. He did not run from whatever wanton destruction found its way into his life, but rather attempted to see the value in it. What advantage could he take from a world on fire? How could he direct the pyre to consume his adversaries?

Such questions lingered as the smoke ascended to the heavens.

This day, the Master followed the footsteps of the apprentice - juxtaposing the roles that had been set in place. In the overwhelming majority of cases, it was the mentor who directed the path of the student in nearly all matters. Yet the Sith had learned to value a particular reality of his alabaster charge. Though her grasp of the Dark Side was mighty, the hold that the Force itself had upon the woman was mightier still. Enough so that the catharsis of her daily life was interrupted by glimpses of distant events. At times, it would be her dreams that were twisted into a depiction of the future. Others, her gaze would simply gloss over until coordinates formed and fell from pristine lips. Throughout their time as Master and Apprentice, Darth Metus had learned not to question these visions of the Force. Firstly because these same visions were responsible for bringing their lives together. And secondly, they both hearkened to the will of the Force.

Thus, as the Echani took her first tentative steps towards what remained of the village, she was not alone. At a glance she was accompanied by a former Imperial, whom also referred to Darth Metus as Master. But what the naked eye could not see told an even greater story. From the instant of their meeting, a river began to flow betwixt the Sith and the alabaster woman: a bond forged solely by the whim of the Force. Through this ethereal tether, Srina Talon could feel the presence of her Master - even when he was several light-years away. She could know his thoughts, delve into the depths of his knowledge, or even borrow from the storehouses of his strength. In tandem, the Echani was an extension of his power. Though, physically, Darth Metus yet tarried upon Geonosis, his might and presence would be felt here.

In this moment, the Sith made good on this reality. The ash which dared to invade the pristine white of her attire began to move. Subtle. Slow. A small cloud billowed forth from the woman's feet - so quietly that the naked eye could easily mistake the movement as being caused by her own footfalls. Seconds rolled, and the clutter of ash mustered together into a recognizable form. Ascension quickened by the flutter of corporeal wings. Charcoal-hued feathers caught the four winds, allowing the Raven to truly soar. The being circled about the alabaster woman's head only once, forming a brief circlet of ash before settling down upon her shoulder. Even if the naked eye had failed to witness the spontaneous rise of the Raven, there would be a key feature to distinguish the beast from its natural counterparts.

A pair of eyes which burned in the brightest sulfur. The gaze of Darth Metus himself.

The avatar of his presence cocked its head to the side inquisitively, yet the voice of her Master did not yet reach her mind. Despite this, she would feel the confidence roiling forth through their bond - not in his own strength, mind. But in Her. It mattered not where the ash-filled road of life took the Master and his Apprentice. Whether they tread from inferno to inferno or managed to find lasting peace - they would always do so as one.

[member="Srina Talon"] | [member="Adron Malvern"] | [member="The Wayfarer"] | [member="Vice"] | [member="Shakti Sweet"]​

 

[Allya Vi'Dreya]

Theme​

Armor​

Perhaps she had followed the Exarchs, perhaps there were other reasons she had come here. Allya was not one to sit idly by or march to the beat of another. Dressed head to toe in advanced Mandalorian armor, the teenager smiled at the Raven, and gently let her telekinesis caress the creature, acknowledging her father, before pushing her gaze back down at the people gathering. Who knows how long she had actually been there, she could have easily seen the entire thing, and it would have changed nothing in how she acted.

Pushing forward, the girl began to move towards the gathered group, eyes locked on the Wayfarer with each step. Black cloak was wrapped firmly around her, looking every bit exactly what she was, a Mandalorian Sith. Each step caused ash to billow, around her, and she used her telekinesis to gather it, letting it float all around her, causing her image to shift and change as the flames distorted the air around the village. Gloved hand came out, as a small insect came and landed on it. It soon flitted off and she moved up to the group silently, attempting to get ahead of her father's apprentices. His Exarchs.

“Such a sad tragedy this is.” Breath was pushed out slowly, and she looked straight at the Wayfarer. “And to see you in the middle of it. I had hoped to find you again one day, but, I was hoping not in the middle of a valley that had been torched.” Voice was filtered through her helmet, and it was easy to see she was highly armed. Large blaster, lightsaber, vambraces, grenades, she had enough of an arsenal on her to easily have been able to cause this destruction.

Honestly, she didn't care what was thought in this moment, it was amusing to say the least. The death itself wasn't, but, she was a strange Sith, she didn't relish in death and destruction. Shifting her helmet, she looks at Shakti, tinted helmet gazing right at her, as if she could see straight through her. Oh she felt the anger, even with her own peculiarities, she understood the rage, and what it could do. There was no judgment here, not today. She played along for now. “Anyone have a clue what happened here?”

Honestly, she was there, to protect the Wayfarer, regardless of how strong he was, she owed him something deep. The force moved in strange ways, and perhaps today was the little Sith's time to protect him. For, before the sheer might, power, and majesty of the Three Sith entities approaching, few things could stand up, especially creatures of the light. They would always have their own agendas, like all Sith, just like Allya herself.

[member="Darth Metus"]
[member="Srina Talon"]
[member="The Wayfarer"]
[member="Shakti Sweet"]
[member="Vice"]

 

[Vice]

Vice considered the offer, but always the thrifty he turned towards the village to loot and scavenge whatever he could. "Go on your way," he spoke with a dull tone as he once more hid his arms between dark cloth. Yet as the Mute turned to leave, directing the Wayfarer, a new signature entered in the mind of the fell swordsmen. Two, no three, unique entities. Their origin from the village itself. These were fresh, prompting Vice to take a few steps back and follow along Shakti and Oda, despite his earlier dismissal.

As the voice addressed the Wayfarer he came to a stop, hazel orbs inspecting the two figures and the smoldering, ashy, raven. This novice of the force could sense the power residing among them, a discomforting feeling when you consider the two parties. Vice was weak, a mere initiate, and from what he know of the Wayfarer, he was merely ambivalent. Something internal was broken, for all Vice cared to know, and the capabilities of their silent companion was but a mystery.

The swordsmen understood not any relationship Allya and Oda might have, taking her pointed stares as mere daggers one might throw an enemy. If this came to sudden, vengeful, blows Vice would be thrown into the midst. Once more his capricious fear came to rise, like a moody child within causing the mind to spin tales of falsehoods and uncertainty. It was not a 'traditional' fear, one of subservience and cowardice, but one of agitation and alien habit. Oh how he would like to be rid of their sudden company.

The blade of his choice seemingly quieted itself, the gluttonous whispers fading all too similarly to the smoke of the village.

[member="Shakti Sweet"] | [member="The Wayfarer"] | [member="Srina Talon"] | [member=Darth Metus] | [member="Allya Vi'Dreya"]

 

[The Wayfarer]

The Wayfarer watched as Vice prepared to retreat towards the village. Carrion that he was, to scavenge the dead. The Wayfarer felt pity for the man for a moment. The force had brought them together and yet for some reason he attempted to defy the fates. Whatever their plans were Oda hadn't the slightest, but he was sure the three of them had been brought together for a reason. Oda watched as the dark man prepared to depart, but was surprised when he turned round and with brisk steps joined them, his dark robes swaying in the shadows like a shade, but despite the dark nothing could mask the fear The Wayfarer sensed on him.

The Wayfarer's connection to the force had been weakened. Cracked to the point of almost shattering completely. Every day he felt it slip farther and farther away from his grasp and he feared what might become of him should he loose it completely. He imagined a hungering void that simply could not be filled and the thought terrified him. So, he sought desperately to heal the wound. He rubbed the salve of charity, humility, compassion, virtue on it, but this seemed to only delay the inevitable. He felt it become especially weak when he came across an act of carnage or a person of evil. Despite this he sought to fight the carnivorous darkness that feasted upon the good natured people whom truly sought nirvana, but now... This darkness. His connection threatened to sever completely.

He felt the light slip away from him and he had to grasp at it tightly with every fiber of his being. He had not felt such evil in his entire life. Not even when he faced the Shogun, but that man had been but a mere puppet of true darkness. Whomever this was was like those who had pulled the strings. The ones who had cut the wound he held in the force. Perhaps this was it then? Perhaps it was The Wayfarer's chance, if he died fighting such a malicious monster surely the light would have him back? Their was no greater purpose then to die in the name of protecting others, but whom was he protecting? Who were these pale riders coming after?

He eyed Vice as the man slunk behind himself and the Mute. No, not him. It had to be the woman then. What had she done? What evil had she pledged herself to that she would summon such horrific beings? The Wayfarer grasped his magnetic hilt and removed it from the cooling sheathe, revealing a volatile katana of light. His people had not perfected the art of crafting lightsabers, but they had managed. The blade glowed a deep blue and crackled violently in the night. The Ronin swiped it through the air so that it was an extension of his outstretched arm. He turned his head a fraction and looked to the the Mute behind him through a narrowed eye.

"Why did you burn that village? Who are these dark lords that you work for?" He asked, his voice cold and serious

Before he could commit to the deed the signatures drew nearer. He was stunned when he realized he was familiar with one. A presence he had not felt in what seemed like ages. A girl whom he had pulled from the wreckage of a terrible attack. She had been near death when the Wayfarer had nursed her back to health. He had sensed rage, loneliness and above all pain in the poor whelp. Seeking to aleve her sorrows and hatred he taught her to become one with herself through meditation. Finally when those who had come for her arrived she seemed to have an inkling of light within her. Perhaps she held no sympathy for the majority but at least she had learned to be compassionate towards herself.

She stood before the Trio and the Ronin was almost dumbfounded by the amount of armor she wore. She was truly prepared for war and he thought perhaps she came leading a battalion of soldiers. But, none came other than herself. Then she posed a strange question. She seemed to be wondering what happened to the village. The Ronin's mind was sent racing. If these kami had not sent the mute demon then why did she slaughter the town? Why had she burned the village? Realizing his blade was still unsheathed he placed it back upon the coolant rod and stared at Vexia perplexed.

"I have no idea how this has happened," The Ronin said simply.

A wave of guilt washed over him as he realized the Mute was not some agent of evil, but simply another misunderstood spirit. But still the question remained. What did these kami want with her?

[member="Vice"]
[member="Allya Vi'Dreya"]
[member="Darth Metus"]
[member="Srina Talon"]
[member="Shakti Sweet"]

 

[Shakti Sweet]

Noting that neither of her two new travelling partners were immediately starting to follow she gave another soft clack of her teeth and turned back towards the river and started walking. Vice's comments about heading back to the village did cause a small smile to tug at the corners of her lips however; there was nothing there of value to begin with - but if there was any obvious damage to those charred remains, she'd be long gone down the valley before he'd have anything to say about it. It was with that pleasant thought that her ears caught the sound of a soft flutter of... Wings? She paused as she tilted her head up, glancing once more into the hazy sky and narrowing her eyes. No bird should be awake at this hour, and with the flames they shouldn't be anywhere near here. She took another glance over her shoulder to see Vice walking quickly towards them. She raised two well groomed brows skyward as she regarded the man, curious as to what had caused the immediate change in heart.

It was at that point that she caught sight of yet another new figure, this one dressed in armour that spoke a good deal more of authority than either of the previous two. What in the...? She turned sharply to put her back to the river and swept her gaze between the three figures that had somehow managed to stumble upon her on this night of all nights. She lifted one hand to start to address the three when her original companion drew his sword. The light that it threw off cast her face in a ghastly light as she finally dropped the mask she'd been keeping upon her face. Her teeth bared in a feral snarl, though no noise escaped her lips as they peeled back. She slid her hands behind her back and wrapped her lithe fingers around the hilts of her ryyk blades. With a shrug of her shoulders both blades slid free, and when her hands swung back there were two keenly sharp, curved blades grasped firmly in her fists. They both measured the length of her forearms and protruded from the bottoms of her fists to sit parallel her arms, coming to wickedly sharp points at the bend of her elbows.

Her eyes held enough venom to give anyone with enough sense pause as she pushed one of her legs backwards, placing her weight solidly on the rear leg as she half crouched and took a defensive stance. She placed one arm at chest height before her and glared daggers at the Ronin. Perhaps he'd been playing calm until these other two had gotten close enough to pose a real threat... It wasn't a bad plan and she chided herself silently for not having thought of it when Vice had shown up. She watched their interaction with a searing heat in her stomach and throat, not moving so much as an inch when he placed the blade back against the sheath. Whatever was to come she was not about to let it come without a fight. She'd already shed blood tonight - what was a bit more?

It was then that she heard it; the soft flutter of fabric disturbing the ground beyond their little party. Her eyes darted wildly over the shoulders of those gathered in their circle and she spotted the two additional figures approaching, marking also the bird that perched on the woman's shoulder. The string of extremely colourful expletives that echoed around the inside of her head, spoken in a voice she remembered as her own from childhood, was nearly deafening. Too many. There were too many, and if any more of them had weapons like the Ronin she had nothing to match their might.

She swung her other arm forward, crossing her arms before her and making a wide arch as she stepped back again, her foot plunging into the frigid mountain stream. She followed that step with another, and then another. If their plan was to encircle her, she would not give them the chance - intending to back herself up, keeping them all before her.

[member="The Wayfarer"] | [member="Vice"] | [member="Srina Talon"] | [member="Adron Malvern"] | [member="Darth Metus"] | [member="Allya Vi'Dreya"]

 

[Adron Malvern]

​

Darkness swept over the lands, threatening to wash away the light that had once shined bright.

Let it be washed away.

A Lord of the Sith, Adron drank in the despair and darkness as if it came from a well that would never run dry. His hands curled into a tight fist, closing around a small mound of soot and dirt. Ashes fluttered in the air, seemingly disappearing the moment they came into contact with the Exarch's dark cloak. At first glance it was as dark as the midnight sky, with a brilliant shimmer that hinted to it's worth. A deeper look would show the black was not black at all, however a deep shade of wine. Amethyst eyes peered down at the soot that had gathered in the man's hand. A brief smile spread over the man's lips before they were replaced with a condemning gaze. This destruction was not unseen or unheard of. He had seen it's mirror several times before and would create such hellish carnage a thousand times again.

A song-like voice filled the Exarch's ears. It brought him to a reality he had nearly forgotten existed. Tossing the dirt aside the Exarch stood to his full height, brushing the remnants from his hands. His eyes sought for the source of that voice, finding it exactly where it was expected. Fair and elegant she revealed herself to him and the man nodded silently. Her hand was outstretched to him and was quickly received. "As you wish." He assured her. Srina and Adron were an interesting duo to say the least. Where one was fair the other was tanned, where one was a flame of light the other was a pillar of darkness.

The Dark Side of The Force was not to be ignored. You must be vigilant of it's doors and wary of it's traps. As a bird of shadow and presence perched itself on Srina's shoulder Adron gazed at it searchingly. It was at home with Srina, gazing out into the destruction with eyes of power. The eyes. The Sith said nothing as he searched the Force for an answer to his unasked question. His Master was worlds away, yet this being....this raven....Curious.

Adron disregarded the bird for the moment. If it was the will of his Master it was little concern of his. Instead he turned his eyes to those gathered, watching this particular group with interest until [member="Allya Vi'Dreya"] joined them. The armor she wore was a call to her heritage and left Adron's stomach in a turn. Mandalorians, savage brutes who thought war was a game and death the victory. Though he held no ill will for the child of the Vicelord, he knew she was in love with their misguided ways. Things here were different, off. To the point where the Exarch reached out with the Force, calling to find the information he so wanted.

[member="Srina Talon"] [member="The Wayfarer"] [member="Shakti Sweet"]

 

[Allya Vi'Dreya]

She tilts her head a bit. Oh she knew Adron, Srina and her father were watching. Frankly, the opinion of the Exarchs didn't matter to her. They were powerful, and she would obey them if commanded, she would give them the respect they deserved, but she wouldn't allow herself to worry about them much. However, this situation in front of her, it was unacceptable in front of them. People really should learn time and place before creatures such as them.

Reaching out, she gently touches the Wayfarer's arm, and tries to lower his arm. Voice was no longer curious, no longer soft, or gentle, it was powerful commanding, and filled with the dark side. It was a voice that demanded to be obeyed or for those listening to be devoured. It wasn't particularly evil, but it was from a creature similar to a force of nature. “Put your weapons away. All of you. There is a time and place for fighting, this isn't it.” Helmet looks at the Wayfarer. “You accuse her without evidence, draw your blade on her....she is right to respond the way she is. As if we are all enemies. Part of being a warrior is knowing when to keep your blade sheathed. It was you who taught me that. Do you honestly wish to be destroyed here?” If Allya knew the truth of what happened or not, she didn't say.

Her voice was almost a growl, and anger flashed around her in an instant, cloaking the young sithling in the dark side from head to toe, just as firmly as the physical cloak around her shoulders. “I have loyalty to you," She tells the Wayfarer, "But, if you all value your lives, keep your weapons in their sheathes. Sith are very temperamental creatures. And I am probably the only one here that has any tolerance for bickering.”

Tapping her foot, she looks at the woman with the blades. “If I wanted you dead, you would already be so. And if they wanted you dead.” She nods to Adron and Srina. “You never would have known it.” Oh she was proud of the Exarchs. They were her father's apprentices. Their strength was just more proof of her Father's own. And as much as that infuriated her, and kept the distance between father and daughter great, what daughter didn't want to think their father was the most powerful person in the galaxy? Only in Allya's case, he was definitely in the running for such a title for real.

A gloved hand rests on her helmet, and her head shakes. “Calm down, now, you are all embarrassing me.”

[member="Adron Malvern"]
[member="Shakti Sweet"]
[member="The Wayfarer"]
[member="Vice"]
[member="Darth Metus"]
[member="Srina Talon"]