There's no place like Home | CIS Dominion of Orcus (T, 53)

[Valgærd]

I wavered... but only for a time.

The touch of father's hand on my shoulder, the approval in his words, all grounded me in the moment. I had taken life, the blood would wash off my arms and my clothes, but it would forever stain my soul. However, I heard father's words in my ear, how much more must stain his, and yet he stands tall and proud, unburdened by it? This is what it is to be Sith, to be Vi'dreya, to be powerful. It is this; to paint your soul with blood, and still walk upright. He squeezed my shoulder as if affirming my thoughts.

I listened as he continued. Alchemy. I'd heard the word before, read about it a little even, but never had I paid the old art much heed. With bated breath I watched, hanging onto father's every word. He'd always taught us that the galaxy was what we made it... but I had never realised the true weight of these words until now. He touched my bare arm, at first I thought in comfort. But instead he coated his fingers in the blood of the men I'd killed, turning to the droid that had approached us.

The symbol he painted on the droid's chassis was High Sith, the same language I used in my personal journals. It was a simple rune; 'shield'. That was all it said. No incantation, no spell, no description nor instruction; simply a name, a name of an item.

"That's all it needs?" I asked.

My answer came presently. I was familiar with the song father's lightsaber sang when ignited. It always brought the tiniest of smiles to my lips. Such a powerful weapon, in the hands of such a great and terrible force. When father stood beside me, his weapon ablaze, nothing could touch me. I didn't need to take a step away. I had complete trust in the Darth that his control of the blade was complete. He wouldn't accidentally nick me. Besides, it was invigorating to see so close up.

He thrust the saber forwards directly into the droid's chest. I knew what was supposed to happen; the droid's core would explode in a shower of sparks, metal would screech as it would melt and yield, machinery would pop and break, the metal being would slump to the ground, gaping chest still coughing and pouring smoke and sparks.

But it did not happen that way.

The lightsaber rattled and complained, but the chassis didn't yield. The two forces matched one another. The droid itself, bizarrely unencumbered by the experience, simply stood, silently awaiting its next order. The man dismissed the blade, before holding it out to me. I reached up my hand, fingers closing around the hilt. I paused for a moment, holding the blade in my hand. It was the most potent weapon I'd ever held. While I didn't have a lightsaber of my own yet, I knew how to fight with one. This, however, was something different. This was father's.

Steering my mind back on track, I mimicked what he'd done. Moving the blade's hilt to my main hand, I held it as I dragged my own fingers across the blood-soaked skin of my arm. Thick blood instantly coated them. It was... still warm. As I brought my hand up in front of my face I paused for a moment, staring at the dark red substance as it glistened upon my skin. The blood of my victims. The blood of the dead. My breath caught in my throat. The blood of people I had killed. Whatever happened to our souls after we passed on... surely I would have to answer for this.

Then answer I would, for it was done now.

Steeling myself, I let out my breath and moved my hand to the droid's neck. Having written in High Sith regularly, I knew the symbol well, painting it elegantly upon the droid's neck. Then I wiped the excess blood on my thigh before taking father's lightsaber in both hands. With a press of the button I activated the blade, the saber instantly responding with that delightfully foreboding hum.

I stepped back with my right foot, planting it in the ground behind me. Holding the weapon in both hands, I swung it around, leaning back onto my right foot as I threw my body into the swing, giving it as much momentum as I could. Were this a normal target, the head would have come clean off.

However, my strike was was stopped, my entire body suddenly stunned with the jolt of my momentum slamming into me as my blade was stopped by the droid's nack. Taking just a moment to recover, I let out a gasp, before dismissing the saber's blade with a delicate press of the button. I held it for another moment, before turning to hand it back to father.

"Wow."

The word came out hushed with awe, a little quieter than I would have liked. Clearing my throat, I glanced down at the bodies,

"Why did it have to be five?"


[member="Darth Metus"]

 

[Malok]

That's all it needs?

Darth Metus was just as skeptical during the days of his youth. As his child bore witness to one of the more basic forms of Alchemy firsthand, the Sith thought of his own introduction to the form. It was on a day like this, in fact, that Rave Merrill saw fit to venture out from the Dark Forge. Typically, Darth Metus had learned how to contort creation alongside the shaping of metal - thereby elevating his skill as a Smith and an Alchemist at the same time. But that day was different. They abandoned the extreme heat of the Forge and ventured out into the surrounding cold.

Winter had blanketed the ground with deep snow, making the trip one that Darth Metus was not fond of. As they traveled along, by foot no less, his Master instructed him to strike down some of the native fauna. If memory served, they were comparable to bantha, save for being a touch largier and furrier. Using their blood did he first learn to weave signs of High Sith directly into the frigid snow - empowering and changing whatever they touched. But in that first moment, Darth Metus was certainly skeptical. How the heck was a fistful of blood drawn into the snow going to withstand a lightsaber blade?

He learned that day.

Hadashah learned right now.

As his lightsaber made the initial collision with the droid, he could all but feel the excitement which bubbled through his child. To witness something that challenged the natural laws of the world was certainly awe inspiring. To cause that same contradiction would color her future from thenceforth. "That's all it needs." he began before handing over his lightsaber. He parted his lips to say more, but instead held his peace for the time being. Darth Metus wanted the young woman to first experience what he had demonstrated for herself - and then he would explain how it all came to be.

And she did. Her fingertips were promptly caked in blood before the rune was scribed onto the Droid's neck. Admittedly, her efforts produced a far more refined symbol - for clearly the young Vi'dreya had an eye for aesthetic. That aside, when the moment of Truth came, Hadashah unleashed a mighty swing against the Droid. In the natural world, the Force of the blow alone would have been enough to cave in the thin material holding the various servos and mechanisms in place. And, the sheer cutting power of the lightsaber would have severed the head clean off. But in that moment, the swing was stopped dead.

The Droid stood unscathed and the Princess extinguished her blade. The lightsaber then made its way back into the grasp of its Master while a new question fell from Hadashah's lips: Why did it have to be five?

A sound inquiry if ever there was one. Darth Metus graced his child with an expression of supreme satisfaction. Pride, even. Not in himself or anything he had done, but in her. "It is said that, when a planet is destroyed, that Force Sensitives of all walks of life can feel it across the Galaxy. The Force itself is also never left the same: a permanent Wound is made. Here, the Force and the laws of physics behave...differently. There is great power to be found."

"Now, on an infinitely smaller scale, we have your five sacrifices. Their demise amounts to...a paper cut in the Force. With every second, the 'damage' caused by their deaths lessens - just as the pain caused by a tiny nick fades rather quickly. But. Regardless of scale, there is great power to be found in death. By scribing blood, you can create Runes with immense power. By infusing blood, you can imbue the Force into objects. And, the greater the wound, the greater the affect."

"All that to say - five victims so you have the opportunity to taste what the average employment of Alchemy looks like. Their deaths enabled your rune to function. Notice how you felt no strain in making it, yes?"

He then folded his arms.

"So, while the opportunity presents itself...tell me something that infuriates you. And think on it as you tell me. I want you to let the anger run through your veins. Embrace it. Understand?"

[member="Hadashah Vi'dreya"]

 

[Maple Harte]

Objective Pacify the Orcani.

Location: Katrine's ship.

Tags [member="Katrine Van-Derveld"], [member="Kurenai Yumi"]

Between everything that had happened to her recently since joining the confederacy, to say the would-be Mandragora was having trouble keeping things straight in her head as to what had happened and when would have been a bit of an understatement. But this order was coming in loud and clear. Plus Doashim was in one of his "Gopher" moods. (With Maple as the gopher). And today was a special assignment, one where she could fight and excise her frustration. The short encounter with that woman on Dantooine with [member="Matsu Ike"] factoring in heavily had renewed Maple's search for the Mind-Binder with a feverish, borderline murderous intensity. But nothing. Nothing so far.

As the lithe, brown haired woman in her black Sasori Light Armor had tried to remain quiet during the trip, stewing in the memory of Dantooine, then that nasty business on Katanos seven, she got the distinct sensation this was important, this search for the book, more important to her personally then it should have been. She wondered if the spirit shacking up with her like it apparently did with everyone who got the mark knew why it felt so personally important. She hoped to catch sight of Veronika, but hadn't yet, but that was because at least fifteen seconds prior she had been composed of cartons of spoiled milk and her intestines were made of pancakes. No. Noooo wait that was false. Your intestines are not made of pancakes. That would take up all the space the wrought iron was currently occupying.

She decided to stay close to where Katrine was, noting with interest that Tall, Dark, and named [member="Kurenai Yumi"] had also joined the fun. Maple had enjoyed their prior siege situation together. Definitely going in the memoirs: Me and a sexy dark haired Dark Jedi blasted away at critters for a solid half hour. Why thats the sort of prose they hand out medals for, being all profound and such.

But her usual disconnected, disordered reverie was shaken, at least momentarily, by the feel of the planet as the starship descended to the ground. Skip. She was made of playing cards! Skip. Reality had conveniently fast forwarded her off the ship to the ground of a lush but deadly feeling world with Katrine giving out orders to all present. Kurenai spoke up and asked a question primarily about scouting.

Maple stepped forward, Sabercane in hand, her rifle slung over her shoulder.

"I volunteer to scout ahead and search for traps ahead of your path, Nightmother. I could even go with the Pathfinders like Kurenai mentioned."

Spoiler

Soooooo sorry for being a bit of a no show past few weeks, everyone. Creative energy was somewhat dry.

 

[Valgærd]

I could feel the pride that father felt.

It seemed to ignite my own. I’d done well. I’d earned his approval. No matter where I went in the galaxy, no matter what I did or how much power I gathered… nothing would ever top the satisfaction of knowing I’d earned father’s favour. That was one thing I could never attribute to another, only me, on my own steam and by my own power, could make him look upon me with eyes of pride.

I faced him, listening intently as he spoke. My head bowed into a nod of understanding. I’d felt wounds in the force like that in the past.

Everything he said beyond that seemed to just make sense. The force reacted to every death, but being so infinite in scale, a single death, or even two would barely be felt in the force. Like how a longsword would decimate my body, or even father’s if it ever found its mark, but would barely even be felt by something as big as a krait dragon.

I nodded as he folded his arms,

“I did notice that, yes.”

He then asked for something that infuriates me. Immediately, my knee-jerk response was to say ‘being called Haddie’. But… I no sooner opened my mouth as I did close it again. No. That didn’t infuriate me. That annoyed me. To no end, sure, and I’d certainly come down violently on those who’d dared risk using such a title that weren’t father or Izak. But… that wasn’t fury.

I thought for a moment, my gaze drifting to the distance.

There was something.

It came not as a memory at first, but as a feeling. Like deep, black clouds boiling on a distant horizon, the rage built and swelled in my gut. For the briefest of moments, as the tempest began to swell, I didn’t even know what had caused it. But as it grew and seethed, the memory followed.

Failure.

My heart thudded in my chest, my stomach turning as if it were a cauldron of fire. I could feel my upper lip trembling, wanting to curl into a snarl. My cheeks burned hot with shame at the memory. I was a few years younger, sent out on an errand. My hands balled into fists at my side. The moment in question was when I’d come home, standing before my father not unlike I was now. His own snarl boring into me as he was told of how I’d failed. I gritted my teeth, speaking through them with a growl,

“When I’m not enough.” I spoke softly, my words as cold and smooth as the surface of a frozen river but shaking with the tremendous flood that roared just beneath the glassy sheet, “The shame of falling short.”

I let out a breath, allowing the searing, boiling wrath to consume me. I was on fire from the inside… whatever came next, it would surely be unforgettable.



[member="Darth Metus"]

 

[Daxton Bane]

[member="Gerwald Lechner"] made an interesting wager, one that Daxton could not resist hearing as it drew his attention. “Did I hear a wager? So do you care to make things a little more interesting. Name your terms for this wager of yours, what are you willing to risk ad. What reward do you seek?” The challenge was issued, now it was time to see if the huge human could back his words with action.

As Daxton got out of the landing craft he could hear battle chatter on his comms, as Confederate forces engaged hostile locals. Upon receiving the report from [member="Var Talon"], he quickly checked his map of the area, small flashing lights of blue, green and red indicated where Confederate forces were engaged with local resistance. Doing a quick scan he located a hill that the enemy was using as possible staging area, it was tactically elevated giving them an advantage over the attackers. He would certainly would have used it in their situation.

Reaching out to airborne support, Daxton contacted [member="SN-1411"] and issued commands, “Calling Sierra November 1411, this is Yellow Lead One, I repeat this is Yellow Lead One. I need a priority strike and suppress on low hill in sector Juliet Yankee 642. I repeat priority strike and suppress on low hill in sector Juliet Yankee 642, copy?”

 

[Katrine Van-Derveld]

Location: En route to Chevoyee Oyote
Wearing: This with Chakram and Sword only a summon away
Objective: Pacify the Orcani
Tags: [member="Var Talon"] [member="Daxton Bane"] [member="Kurenai Yumi"] [member="Anya Malvern"] @Gerwald Luchner [member="Srina Talon"] [member="SN-1411"] [member="Nysana Talon"] [member="Maple Harte"]
Post: Two

I see you.​

Across space and possibly even time, her voice made Katrine inhale a deep breath as her eyes closed. There were times, rare times when the family gathered to give strength. Even when Nona didn't know the entire story of this world, even if she knew nothing of the ancestor that had plagued Katrine throughout her life, she felt her need for strength and sent it through the Force. Not just her. Witches possessed a great many gifts, spells that could cause the impossible. Liberation of Orcus was their penance for the crime of a single woman. Orcani knew her as their goddess, the Mandragora knew her as the traitor and the Hawks, well, they knew nothing about her and yet she was the mother of the progenitor. Katrine could feel them now, knew they were there, watching her from somewhere between light and dark, somewhere between the mortal and spiritual realms.

There was no room for error.

In a moment, she had felt her Ward and reached out to her momentarily. 'Stay safe,' the Witch had only sent to her mind, a small smile on her face. The teenager had a long way to go, as did she, but she was a brave warrior incredibly talented in the Force. She couldn't deny that for a second.

Question from [member="Kurenai Yumi"] made her look at her now, wondering of her question. "There won't be any trouble. We need all the help we can get. I intend to show natives their religion is a lie and their god is an imposter. We'll only spill the blood necessarily," she answered her with a resolve, already knowing the answer. The spirits had warned her what she knew. They were primitive and savage, brutal even to each other but the Mandragora wanted to show them the truth, not destroy them. The Orcani weren't to be blamed for the lies generations had been raised on.

@Gerwald Luchner, the newest addition to her pack had come up to her, causing her to look up high to meet his gaze as he suggested a wager. "Name your stakes," the blonde responded with a small smirk on her face, unable to resist a game with a fellow Lupine. Taking lives was in no way a game to her yet the challenge itself was. Her mouth parted slightly as she intended of speaking again when she heard the voice through the device, [member="SN-1411"] speaking through. He'd breached the skies and was on standby to provide extra firepower from above. Katrine had every intention of responding to the Captain when [member="Maple Harte"] interrupted, volunteering to scout ahead and search for traps ahead. "Great idea. Keep your senses on alert. They'll be primitive but s,till they're remarkable hunters." She remembered, all too well even, how good they were at that particular skill.

For a moment, distracted by the mention of traps, she heard the voice of [member="Daxton Bane"] first in person, mentioning wager before his voice came both through in the flesh and through the device, issuing an order she didn't fully understand but from the words priority strike she understood he'd ordered an air strike? She activated her own communicator almost immediately. "Disregard that last order, [member="SN-1411"], there will be no strikes at the present times. These people may be savage but they're not advanced. I want to keep the death count to a minimum," she commanded, glancing back at Daxton. "They're violent but it's not their fault they've been convinced of a lie. Only necessary deaths, Daxton," she repeated.

"We'll settle the wager on the way. We have to get to Chevoyee," she reminded the present ones before she began walking. The clearing wasn't too far from the largest city and no doubt the natives had already seen the massive ship that was Nocte Aranea. Katrine remembered the way even when she wished she didn't, after so long and after her captivity. Clearing, small woods with a small hill between them was all that was separating them. The open fields were not where Katrine wanted to meet the talented warriors. They were capable in combat and brutal in the delivery. The woods would provide them with safety in the upcoming battle. "The trees will provide us with the cover we need when the fighting starts. After what I did during my last visit, the spirits are sure they'll be hungry for blood," she explained as she moved, just before she would enter the woods.

We are with you, Nona spoke into her mind once again, reminding her of what she knew. She wasn't alone, not in this realm or the other, giving her the strength she needed.

Spoiler

[member="Darth Metus"] [member="Rapax"] [member="Muad Dib"] [member="Asher Mossa"] [member="Zephyr Carrick"] [member="Scherezade deWinter"][member="Erin Tenel"] [member="Hadashah Vi'dreya"]

Any and all Mandragora still not in the thread are welcome to arrive on the Nocte Aranea along with Kat if they require transport.
Confederacy leaders still to join, you decide where you're sending your people and just say it was organized beforehand.

 

[Eternal Spark]

They believed in their truth; they believed in their goddess, in their religion. Shamani of Orcus was raised to believe in their truth above anything else. The gifts they had been blessed with were a sign of their greatness and the greatness of their deity, there was no other explanation provided for the birth of Wakanda on Orcus. No explanation on the Force, on the midi-chlorians, Jedi or Sith. There was only a single way. And in their truth, their Seers saw the opposition coming, saw the desecrator returning to Orcus. They had seen her return and they had seen her exit their ship, masked, hidden to represent her false gods. Shamani of Orcus, the priests of the Mandragora were ready for her plans. By their nature, all Orcani were warriors, handed weapons while young. They didn't hide the Orenda from the danger, they gathered their weapons and meditated for guidance in the infinite wisdom of the Mother. She no longer came to them, she was gone, her remains desecrated by the descendant and yet, the Shamani, zealots in their beliefs did not falter.

Beliefs of the shamani would only die with their deaths. There was no alternative.

The Orcani would have been gathering their spears and swords, calling out the battle cries, readying themselves to defend their planet from the outsiders just as their Shamani had taught them. That was alright though, the Confederacy was here, the Mandragora was ready to show them the truth behind the lies they had been fed. Pact of Jart was, with the help of Pact Lylek, ready to take back what belonged to them, Pact of Doashim alongside their Nightmother and the Pathfinders was ready to meet the warriors on the battlefield. Lives would be lost before reason would be met. They were ready for it though.

Quickest and perhaps hungriest for blood were already engaging the Talon siblings. They would be merciless, the first, seeing the three which they outnumber. They didn't plan on avoiding the small group to move to the massive ship they had found. Others, running and jumping through the trees would pass them on, charging towards the large ship. It reminded them of a lesser symbol of their legion. "Falsa Itowa", the Orcani would cry out in New Orcani. Among them were a handful of Wakanda, their gifted in the Force. They could feel their equals arriving, they could feel the influx of power that had come aboard not one ship but more.

The warriors weren't coming. They were there. Screaming from the top of their lungs, calling out to others to join them. The Confederacy would be met with a fierce opposition.

Spoiler

False picture/symbol

[member="Darth Metus"] [member="Rapax"] [member="Muad Dib"] [member="Asher Mossa"] [member="Zephyr Carrick"] [member="Scherezade deWinter"] [member="Erin Tenel"] [member="Hadashah Vi'dreya"] [member="Var Talon"] [member="Daxton Bane"] [member="Kurenai Yumi"] [member="Anya Malvern"] [member="Gerwald Lechner"] [member="Srina Talon"] [member="SN-1411"] [member="Nysana Talon"] [member="Maple Harte"]

 

[STaCLO]

​

Objective: Provide Air support
Location: In the sky
Post: 2

As SN and his ship flew over the lush environment. Making sure he doesn't fly over enemy lines. Even thought he doubts they'll even touch him. It wouldn't be hard for him to burn much of the tropical landscape and turn it from green to grey. Filling the living forests with ash and soot. SN had himself connected to the ship via scomp-link like an R2 unit. Giving him complete control of his ship an all their weapons. After a minute he heard a request from [member="Daxton Bane"] about making a strike on a hill the natives seemedto be camped out on. "You got it Yellow Lead One, fireworks are coming in soon, over." He replied over the communications.

However, soon after [member="Katrine Van-Derveld"] came over the comms to speak. Disregarding the previous request. "Um, Copy that Night Mother One. We'll remain on stand by until open conflict arises or for another preemptive request, over." He replied to her, he certainly wasn't here for humanitarian work. But he can understand the need to keep the death toll low. But he was a droid, and one that sought glory even if that mean going into extremes. Could someone really blame a droid for committing an atrocity? Maybe not, but at some point SN was sure he'd hold himself responsible for his own actions.

 

[Kurenai Yumi]

Location: Accompanying the magic people
Equipment: Armor - Looks like - Lightsaber Yari - Pistol
Objective: Pacify the Orcani
Allies: [member="Scherezade deWinter"], [member="Katrine Van-Derveld"], [member="Daxton Bane"],
Post: 2

Kuenai had watched in silence as more and more members of the Mandragora sect excited the landing shuttle or their own personal craft, quite a few being solely dedicated to the magical organization with no other responsibility among the Confederacy. It was an interesting concept, but at the same time was a little strange in her eyes, the quite a few people among the Confederacy only served in the Mandragora and no where else. Kind of like a traditionalist Jedi ideology that did not interfere with the actual government unless called upon, like the events that where unfolding today.

While people moved around in the back ground Kurenai kept focus on the night mother, others like [member="Daxton Bane"] talking to [member="Var Talon"] about wagers, along with the constant battle chatter of those who sough to right against the local population, definitely a lively gathering. Well that was until she felt a familiar presence and sweet voice from behind, the same one that had accompanied Kurenai during the battle on Monastery, the same woman that Great Grandmother (Sawa Ike) had apparently been associating with, [member="Maple Harte"].

Turning around for a brief moment the brunette seemed a peppy as always, offering to help herself scout ahead for any potential dangers, and seeing that non of the other pathfinder had arrived that Kurenai inclined to agree with the woman. After all not all the Mandagora were the most physically fit or strong, not that they could not hold their own battle but better to be safe then sorry. "Well it both of you are in agreement then we best be off Maple, time is wasting, the longer we stay her the more chance of an attack... speed it key after all". She could also rely on Maple to be more conventional then most others, something she could relate to and thus work with better cohesion.

She approached Maple while the other discussed the possible fire mission of up ahead, thankfully the nigh mother realizing it was not a good idea, with no real target and possibility of further complicating matter such was ill advised. "Righty oh, Maple, I trust that you can be stealthy, fast and deadly all at the same time? because getting rid of those traps while staying one with the shadows will be a tricky challenge, but I have a feeling you are up for it no"? Turning back around the veteran mercenary withdrew her silenced pistol, checking the chamber and mag before speaking up once more, "stay on my six and stay silent okay, lets move out".

With those few words the duo would start to move out into the alien like jungle of the planets surface,slowly leaving the main group behind to organize and decide on... wagers.

 

[Fawn Alzi]

Objective: Hunt some treasure, dig some graves, befriend some skeletons
Location: Helewaut
Equipment: Lightsaber, robes, staff, and dagger
Allies: You're funny
Post: 1

She had come with the Mandragora. With the Confederacy. There was apparently some sort of plan going in, retrieving some kind of book and pacifying the locals. She didn't suppose that she could run off with the Orenda herself, given how crowded it would be, but she could at least stash any valuables she could find on the planet for herself. Maybe there were powerful artifacts or rare trinkets or anything of note whatsoever.

Placing her headphones over her ears, she began twirling her staff as she departed from the rest, taking interest in this cemetery they called Helewaut. If these people were dumb enough, they would bury their valuables with their dead, and that just didn't serve any purpose at all, did it? May as well have gone to a good cause. The cause of Fawn Alzi's spice addiction.

Landing down near the site in her drop pod, she walked out in a dance that matched the music that was playing, raising her staff at the high notes to strike a bolt of lightning down on a grave. Perhaps if she could raise the dead, they would happily hand over the burdensome trinkets they had been buried with. It had to have been a pain in the neck to wear the same necklace for an eternity, after all. She did know spells to raise the dead, however temporary..."

After quick deliberation, she shook her head, driving her violet lightsaber into one of the sites, cutting out a square of dirt that she could then raise and toss aside. Then, gently, she raised the stone beneath the remains so that she could take a good look at what was left.

Just bones... If anything had been buried, it was certainly degradable.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a figure standing there, sadly living. It was a child, adorned with what Fawn could only assume to be traditional accessories of the Orcani. Her eyes were wide as she gazed between Fawn and the desecrated grave.

"Move along, kid," she told her, realizing all too quickly that she probably didn't speak basic. Rolling her eyes, she focused on the skeleton beside her, moving its jaw as she kept it floating there.

"I'm finally freed!" she faked the skeleton's voice with matching jaw motions, making it shake and dance in joy.

"See? He loves it! Really shouldn't be burying these friendly guys in the first place."

The girl remained as still as possible, shivering just a bit at the sight of the bones moving seemingly on their own.

"No?" Fawn asked. "Nothing? Alright, fine, you're just gonna invoke his wrath..."

She raised flames around the skeleton, pushing it toward the girl with its arms raised above its head. Screaming, the girl finally fled for her life, leaving Fawn back to her work at hand. But there were so many graves...

"How about you dig up all these graves?" she asked the inanimate skeleton, making it shrug and shake its head. Fawn sighed, muttering, "Can't even find good help in the dead..."

 

[Grace Darkson]

Nearby: [member="Asher Mossa"] | [member="Rapax"] | [member="Erin Tenel"]​

​

​

Psyona hated the waiting,

Part of it was a desire to return to the workshop and to her research, back to the dark depths she's spent so much time as of late. Back to half-finished projects long abandoned and ancient tomes few would dare read. Few things, it seemed, would rouse her from her metaphorical slumber. One of those was a chance at a new book.

The book holds both truth and blaspheme. Do not take it lightly.

Oh, and there was His voice telling her to. I don't believe in blasphemy. Truth and Power are above such notions.

You would do well to learn your place, child.

My 'place'? The only groups are those with power, and those without. She shook her head, the mask of bone shifting as she did. I learned that long ago.

Bones rattled as the gorgon walked towards the others there. Rapax she knew, and worse still, she had a half-finished project on the workbench that was meant for him. Another thing to finish. The others she didn't know. Brothers and sisters who had joined during her isolation? She pulled the hood over the mass of flesh she called hair further. Stopping upwind of the others, she spoke.

"Is it time?"

 

[Malok]

It was if he were on Kashyyyk again.

When last these instructions were uttered from the Sith Lord, they were to empower and guide an alabaster beauty. It was an odd place to elect for training in the Darkness, but also the most bold. On the exterior of the Silver Jedi's most stunning temple did Darth Metus first instruct his pupil in the ways of Sith Magick. And now, he passed the torch onto his beloved daughter [member="Hadashah Vi'dreya"]. His words were both to guide and to challenge. He told her to dig deep within the Chapters of her life, to muster those aches and pains which lit an inferno within her stomach.

And in an instant, he could feel her warmth.

She erupted much faster than [member="Srina Talon"]. This was first and only comparison he would draw between his heart and his heir. He knew the sole reason for the difference was that the former once served a rather unique gathering before. They operated without expression, supressing any emotion that could ever threaten the success of their operations. Yet the young Vi'dreya had none of this training. She was the Princess of Ashrath, daughter of the Vicelord, and thereby free to express herself since the moment of her birth. And that she did, as angry words trembled forth from her mouth.

When I'm not enough. The shame of falling short.

For a moment, the Father within the Sith felt...a tug in his chest. It was not truly, physical pain - but it was sharp nonetheless. An emotional pang due to the struggles his daughter faced. Why would she ever feel that she had fallen short? When did she ever feel as though she were not enough? Had...Had he given her that impression? Now was not the time. Darth Metus swallowed the paternal musings and refocused his gaze upon the young woman.

"Just as the Force responds to death, so too does it respond to emotion. In some cases, manifests as wild, untapped displays of power." he began, suddenly remembering the near destruction of his lobby the day Srina had become apart of his life. "In others, emotion acts as fuel for something greater. Magick. This method uses an incantation as the spark, your anger as the fuel, and burns all creation with an affect."

The Sith outstretched his hand.

It did not take much for him to muster the negative emotion required for his feat. Between the events on Maramere and Zolan, he had plenty of recent history to draw from. The mere thought of his sibling's demise...the subsequent hauntings...dying over and over...wrath burned within his expression as Sith lyrics danced upon his tongue.

Tsaiwinokka Hoyakut.​

Crimson steam began to rise from the flesh of Hadashah's first victim. And then...a twitch. There was motion where there should not have been any. Vigor where there should have been only death. Slowly. Deliberately. The old man pushed himself up off the dirt and looked upon the pair. His jaw was slack. Drool poured from his lips and freely upon his ragged flesh. His hands continued to twitch, as if wanting to grab something. Anything. Yet, most disturbing of all, there was something about its eyes. A hunger. A deep, boundless hunger.

"Through Magick, you can command the dead to rise. Come. Try your hand."

[member="Hadashah Vi'dreya"]

 

[Srina Talon]

Location: Exiting Drop Pod - Headed Toward Objective
Fighting Beside: [member="Var Talon"] and @Nysana Talon.
Quote: "The most dangerous person is the one who quietly listens, thinks, and observes. When they make their move. Run."

Lightning.

It was one of the very first things that her Master had taught her. Brightness leapt from her fingertips, heralding the arrival of the Talon siblings, and scoring the way of any debris, to ensure a safe deadfall. Srina did not allow herself to feel, nothing so plebian, but she did pour what she hid silently from sight into her attack. Wrath. It was death, twined with hatred, made living and real. It was a need to do violence, to feel her blood sing, to speak to her people as only they could—by fighting with her every breath.

[member="Darth Metus"] would be proud.

Var had repeated their mantra. He was obedient, as all good Echani were, but she could feel rebellion brewing in him. It was different than she was used to, however, not unwelcome. Var contacted [member="Daxton Bane"] to notify the Dominus. He was turning out to be quite the capable Obsidian, though, she’d never really had any doubts. Any Talon could succeed in a war zone. They needed only to apply the correct skill.

“Their weapons are primitive. Watch for arrows!”, Srina called to both of her siblings as the wave of Orcani advanced like the swell of the sea. A crude wooden and feathered instrument had already flown dangerously close to her face, to which Srina had simple shifted by two inches, letting it fly harmlessly behind her. The soldiers of the Confederacy were outnumbered, perhaps, but it was hardly a fair fight. How could it be?

Var hit the wall of flesh first. Srina flew into the fight the same way she would have on Eshan. She was not merely using a weapon, more than that, she had become it. [member="Katrine Van-Derveld"] had unleashed not one Talon, but three, and they would see her will done. No matter what it took. She could hear the crack of his helmsplitter and knew it would find purchase. She moved, instinctively, to avoid Nysana’s halberd as it spun back to her hands and Srina’s white-bladed saber came to life.

The tell-tale sound of a light saber cleaving through the air took several limbs cleanly, leaving screaming remains, that were quickly dealt with. The Echani required silence. Not more noise, and certainly, not screams. Srina moved from one target to the next, her blade striking at vulnerable openings, and never stopping for longer than it took to center herself. Spears made of wood and metal were of little consequence. The Apprentice stopped before one Orcani using such a weapon, and began to twist her hand back and forth, lopping off pieces of his polearm until there was nothing left but a stub—before driving her blade through his torso in one quick stroke.

These people were slow AND primitive.

They fought with the same tactic that the Confederacy held. Less hardy, perhaps, but they intended to swamp their enemies with sheer numbers. It would have been a solid tactic were it not for the entirety of the CIS knocking on the door, before, promptly kicking it in.

Suddenly, the ground beneath her feet erupted. Roots sprouted from nothing, unnaturally, and Srina could smell the Force at work. It came in many forms, especially, on backwater worlds where they didn’t have a word for it. Her trainers at Larinkáoi had merely preferred to refer to her sensitivity, however, they all knew the truth. Rough fibers wrapped around her ankles first, before sweeping up her body in an effort to immobilize her, and the white-haired woman felt her arms snap to her sides against her will.

The tree roots tightened and silver eyes darkened with golden corruption.

Srina drew the Dark Side into herself. The tighter the roots squeezed the more power she pulled. She could have asked for help. She could have cried out to either Var or Nysana. Yet—she would not distract them from their own glory. To that end, she would not be brought down by a volley of plants, and power began to crackle around her palms. In the distance she could see a female Orcani, desperately focusing, and her Sith-laden gaze burned holes through her.

Her siblings had spread out, far enough that they could not harm each other with their actions, but near enough in the event of an emergency. It was similar to what she had done on Dragonflower to Tellu, however, this occurrence was coupled with intent. The Orcani within arm’s length were annihilated and the roots that were wrapped around her person were blown away. The primitives several rows back would feel the shockwave and be forced to stumble back.

The woman unwillingly known as the Dread Queen did not stop.

Now, she had a target. She didn’t want the little monster ahead of them getting any ideas about using that kind of attack against either of her siblings. The primitive force-user would die, quickly, to ensure that the three Talon’s could continue cutting a bloody swath through their enemies unhindered. She whirled around and swung out in a wide arc, little more than a displacement of air, and quite resembling the silver-eyed-demon that had tormented Thyrsians so well on Eshan.

‘Press on. Trade places if you need air. There are still far more of them than there are of us.’, her mind touched that of Var and Nysana, a simple brush pass of words, to keep them all working as a unit. They would be a team in all things. More effective than droids, more accurate than simple stormtroopers, and far more deadly than anything this world had to offer. Her next phrase echoed that which she had spoken on Maramere. ‘No mercy.’

​

 

[Cyprine Talon]

Location: Far away from Orcus
Tags: [member="Srina Talon"] [member="Nysana Talon"] [member="Var Talon"]
Posts: Four

The family had been broken, the children had been lost. All for a greedy monster. Cyprine hadn't understood in the beginning what the plan had been yet in the end, it had become undoubtedly clear. House Eägon had intended to destroy them, and one by one they had achieved to banish one child of House Vail one by one. Srina had vanished, Tellu had lost her wife and child, Cyprine had gone so far as to almost commit the very worst of their own crimes by striking upon the man when he was done. She hadn't because she had been stopped but no doubt, they would spin their tale as they saw fit. Her parents had thus been right to advise her to run. Danatus wanted their family absorbed into his but he wanted her head no doubt for the nasty scar she had given him.

Over a month had passed since Cyprine had made her run, altering her appearance as she did to allow herself a safe exit. It pained her to leave her parents, Valina and Viluy at the mercy of Dalantus but their family was weakened by the disappeared of Tellu, Var, and Srina. A house divided would fall but a house united could potentially break the cycle. Potentially.

Even with the time passed, Prin hadn't been any closer to finding her siblings so she found herself reaching out through the Force instead, seeking their signatures through it. Neither she nor they were strong enough in it to perform greater tasks, all of them devoting their early lives to the traditions of their world rather than the Force, the way others had yet Cyprine could find her family if nothing but to call to them. There was an ease to the tasks as all three signatures shun bright together, amplifying their presence in her mind. "Nosse," she reached out, as loudly as she possibly could but it would come as a whisper at best if could reach them.

Spoiler

"Family"

 

[Darth Metus]

Their weapons are very primitive. Watch for arrows!

Things were as they should be...and for a moment, Var entertained the delusion that nothing had changed. His elder sister was at the helm, providing them with focus. Providing them with direction. His other sibling was ferocity personified. And he...well, he was far from being the same runt which lagged behind. Now, he could keep in step with the Silver Valkyries which rampaged into the fray. Yet as Helmsplitter sang through the air, bearing with it the fury of Var Talon, he was made keenly aware of just how different things had become. Before his departure on Eshan, the pungent stench of ozone would never invade his nostrils.

Yet here, amidst these savages, a cacophany of scents assailed him. It was as if the very air had been lit ablaze...and then flesh consumed. His peripheral vision told the story: [member="Srina Talon"] had become more than a Seeker in their time apart. With a hand outstretched, the very forces of nature erupted from her fingertips. Lightning arced and crashed into those who rose against her, frying their flesh black. He would have marveled. He would have gaped. If not for two realities. One, he was still in the middle of a warzone. And two...witnessing the assault made the edges of his vision...hazy.

He shook his head and focused on the savages before him. Helmsplitter was pried free from the carcass of one Orcani and smashed down into another victim. Yet as the native squealed under the blade of his axe, his peripheral vision grew dark. He could see but...He could not. What was-

The fire had returned. The being of ash, fire, and death hovered over. This time, he felt pain. Searing, unimaginable agony. His chest. Why was his chest...

"Snap. Out. Of. It." he seethed, rearing back his foot to deliver a mighty kick to his adversary. The blow uprooted the native and sent it flying onto its posterior. Var capitalized on the beast, pouncing upon its fallen form. Helmsplitter's haft was gripped with both hands and came down in a finishing blow. The blade squelched clean into the Orcani's cranium, spraying crimson onto Var's chest. But he did not immediately rise from the kill. No. He raised Helmsplitter again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. Over and over did the Echani give into the Black rebellion which burned within his core.

But even the most brutal displays did not give the Orcani pause. The fell upon the Echani, poking Spears at his spine whilst his attention was upon his victim. The privilege of modern armor saved Var from anything beyond a mere flesh wound, but the pain was more than enough to rouse him from his onslaught. A savage cry tore from his lips - an angry mix between rage and an expression of hurt. It reverberated across the Executor channel too - for the line was yet live despite his being unaware. His Dominus. His Allies. Surely they would fall upon the Orcani with renewed vigor at the sound of their comrade's anguish.

He did not raise Helmsplitter against them. Not yet.

"Get. Back."

The murderous tone was coupled with a din.

A column of telekinetic fury exploded out from Var's body, knocking native over native within arm's reach. And the young Talon rose to his feet. He couldn't explain where that...that came from...and for right now, it didn't matter.

All that mattered was sinking Helmsplitter into a new victim.

All that mattered was battle.

[member="Srina Talon"], [member="Nysana Talon"], [member="Anya Malvern"], [member="Daxton Bane"]

 

[Valgærd]

I felt… something from father. It was only brief, or… I only felt it briefly, but it was unmistakably him. Something paternal? Was he remembering the times I’d failed? Or was it… the pang of sharing in the pain of your child? Whatever it was, it was brief, and as it passed, I turned my focus back to his words.

His eyes seemed to grow distant, almost vacant, as he spoke. There was a memory there, one tied to the lesson he was imparting. I couldn’t help but wonder what it might be. Father had spent so much time away from home. He’d seen and done so much without Izak and I… what had he seen? Tragedies? Horrors? War, death, pestilence? Had he ever gone up against something that made him feel fear? Surely not… I had seen many things in my father… but fear was not something I could even conjure in my mind.

He stretched out his hand towards the first corpse. I twisted to the side to watch. Two words in Sith slipped from his lips as a blood-red stream from the body. For a moment, that was all.

Then I let out a sharp gasp.

My hands flew to my mouth as the body slowly began to pull itself from the ground. With the creaks and groans par for an old body, it stood to its feet, fingers clawing as if like a babe reaching to wrap its fingers around… something.

There was something distinctly off about its posture. Its head lolled a little, the corpse standing so much on its own, but rather, like it had merely been piled on top of itself. But it was the eyes that drew a shudder from my chest. They stared into me, not as one would to a master or even an equal… but as a starving predator would to prey. There was a ceaseless hunger in that gaze, hunger that all the galaxy wouldn’t have sated.

Then it was my turn.

Taking a deep breath, I tore my gaze away from the first corpse, and looked to the second. The words were already burned into my mind. I stretched out my own hand, forcing the horrific visage of the first one out of my head. Focus, Hadashah.


“Tsaiwinokka Hoyakut.”

This was sith magick. With father’s lesson still fresh, I drew from all the pain and anger I could muster. Ever time I’d failed in something I’d set out to do. Every time Izak or our trainer had bested me in a spar. Every time I’d fallen short of the goals I’d set myself.

The crimson stream erupted from the second victim. For a few moments nothing else happened. I pursed my lips. No. I would not fail again. My eyes narrowed, my fingers curled. In my mind I saw myself turning back to father without making the corpse rise, how angry I would be at myself, how much shame would burn my cheeks.

Then it happened.

A twitch.

Just like the first one, the second body began to slowly rise. I watched as it pulled itself from the ground and stood before us… for a moment at least. It took a step towards me, its chest rising as if filling with air. Then it crumpled. All at once it collapsed like a sack of meat and bones back down onto the grass.

Dropping my hand, I gasped. I hadn’t realised until now that my body hadn’t drawn a breath until just now. I turned back to face the Sith, biting my lower lip. Had that been enough?


[member="Darth Metus"]

 

[Xenro]

Location: Orcus, somewhere.
Allies: Confederates.
Enemies: ???

"I've no interest in paltry hedge magicks," he stated flatly. It came in answer to a broader query, one from a young lady given to him as a political attache. "The Dathomiri have their barbaric plays at mysticism, and I have my own methodology. That is all I need say on the matter." Her eyes were lit up with thought and a million more questions jumped to the forefront of her mind. She dared not voice them, though. His face showed no sign of emotion, but his words warned her that there was more stirring than the man let on.

"The Confederacy has strong ties to the Witches," the woman warned. "They might not take kindly to your views on the matter." A wide grin played at her lips, but she did her best to tone her amusement down. The new addition to their numbers came with a stern warning from Darth Metus. 'He may not seem like much, but he is a dangerous man. Do not let your guard down around him, and try not to put yourself on his radar.' She was a pretty girl, not quite in her mid twenties, with blonde hair and brown eyes. Her fair skin held taut to every curve, and she wore the proper attire to flaunt that fact. By contrast, the man accompanying her towered overhead, with dark, flowing robes that did very little for his pale features. Markedly, his black lips and vivid green eyes red flagged him as some manner of eccentric.

He shot her a glance. "I'm not interested in their opinion of me, either," he remarked. She burst out laughing abruptly.

"You won't get far in this Confederacy without the approval of the higher ups," she said through her laughter. After a moment with his full attention, she collected herself. "I'm sorry, that was crass of me," she apologized, mostly out of necessity. "Then pray tell, what are you interested in, Lord Xenro?"

The Sith remained still for a long moment. His eyes did not move away from her, rather, they moved slowly over her person. She fidgeted uncomfortably. "I wonder." He spoke suddenly, so unexpected that the girl jumped. "What purpose were you tasked with when placed into my entourage?"

"Diplomatic relations," she replied, crestfallen. "And facilitating a smooth transition into the Confederacy for Orcus and its people."

"See to it that your interests align with that task, rather than my interests," he commanded. She bowed her head in deference. Xenro turned his gaze from her as the skiff came within view of mountainous terrain and on the horizon, the so-called 'spirit warrior city.' "It is not their largest, by any means," he explained, "but this city is considered to be the most advanced out of the settlements on this planet, and thus holds a certain... weight with the people." He chose his words carefully, but something about them made the girl's skin crawl. "Miss... Marilyn, was it?"

"It was," she nodded. "What can I do for you?"

"Your beloved matriarchy has a strong foothold here," he said. "To that end, whatever talking must needs be done..."

"Will be done by me," she agreed. "If we want any sort of agreement here, we will have to respect their cultural taboos and traditions." Xenro nodded.

"To some degree, that will be so."

Marilyn blinked. "To what degree, then?" she asked. She turned just as the skiff alighted on the docks of Chevoyee Oyote and received no answer as the Sith disembarked ahead of her.

Post I​

 

[Anya Malvern]

Location-orcus
Objective-pacify the natives
Post 2
[member="Var Talon"] [member="Srina Talon"] [member="Darth Metus"] [member="SN-1411"] [member="Katrine Van-Derveld"]

The sounds of war, a symphony of death conducted by the hands of death itself, the cries of the warriors reached her ears as a challenge as she grinned and let a roar out towards the in challenge banging her sword against a tree to taunt them. Yes that fire in her veins was burning and she was ready to fight! She saw the warriors within the trees and laughed as she didnt even hesitate as she raised her and to expel fire towards the tree ops ending flames sticking to those that came to attack her

The smoke would cover her as warriors went for her last position, however they were greeted by nothing, then from the fire she charged the mark of the doashim displayed proudly as she swung for the first worry then drew her saber and jumped back into one. She was surrounded, however she cared but the odds

come on! More of you then me charge you cowards! Come meet hell! One way ticket hahahahaha

One right after the other they charged, a spear flying for her was stopped and flung another way into a warrior, that was coming at her. She roared out and inhaled deeply then out flames flying towards those in front of her engulfing them in what can only be described as hell flames....she was a chosen of the doashim and a executor, this was her job, her life...to cleanse those that was judged and sentenced to death

She knew her allies were around her, they would likely need help from the hoards of savages, she moved back so she could regroup with them, she came to stand by [member="Var Talon"] watching the impressive display of power....very impressive actually

two against a hundred! They dont stand a chance!

She called out to him as she struck another down with her sword

 

[Maple Harte]

Deleted repeat post

 

[Maple Harte]

Maple only grinned as Kurenai spoke up.

"Stealthy? Yep. Fast? Oh my. Deadly?" Maple paused a for a second or two on that last, before shrugging.

"Ehhhh...kinda." she joked. as she quietly followed Kurenai away from the others, letting the needs of the jungle take hold as she went silent, her prior assassin training coming out as she followed Yumi through the woods, aliens plants and a thousand critters she had never even seen before hiding under every rock and watching from every nook. She let her training and whatever minor strength in the Force she had to actively struggle past her madness to use, allowed her to detect things along the route to the Orcani. The Nightmother, from the way she talked and acted, sounded like she had been here before.

Okay Doashy. What's up with these guys?

Heretics of a fallen woman. It was before your time. The spirit explained from within.

How bad could this get?

Bad. You can hear them, can you not? The war chants. The oaths in the breeze?

A little bit she admitted to the spirit. She marked and uncovered traps along the route as she moved with Kurenai towards the Orcani's settlement beyond. She spotted pits with spike, crossbow traps with poison tipped bolts, and deadfall traps. All cunningly camouflaged. If she had not been actually looking any one of them could have killed her. She marked them out clearly along the travel path, disabling the wire traps or setting them off early when that simply wasn't possible. And there were plenty of booby traps along the way as she traveled through the vast alien forest. Enough to seriously hamper any advancement by a large concerted party. There was a high risk of casualties if they went en masse here. Someone would stop paying attention, or multiple people, and then the bodies would pile. Finding a safe route to the Orcani themselves was going to be a pain, but hey, at least there was the Dark Jedi with that lovely ivory skin to admire from afar while she worked. She had never gotten little bonuses like that in the old days. It was just work, and unpleasant work at that. Now? Maple was in femme fatale heaven. And best of all this particular heaven served chocolate pie! The buttery kind!

Skip. She had been a bomber pilot, captured by the Sith to be altered with cyberbetics from the--

Sorry, Maple, I'm sure whatever lie your brain is cooking up is quite a yarn the spirit said, forcibly pulling the bounty hunter from a delusion that had already dragged on three days in her head at the expense of a few seconds of real time, though not without considerable exertion on the spirits part. Just in time to watch throngs of Orcani come charging through the woods screaming, aome holding axes. They were coming from everywhere, and many of them were heading for the Night mothers direction behind her.

but the natives I'm sure you could also spin some interesting tales with

No way she could stop all of them, but she could make a difference where she was. Her saber cane went active, a small viridian shoto exiting the bottom of the cane shaft while another emitted from the side of the handle that tapered off at one end, the tapered edge doubling as an emitter shroud.

With the finesse of a lumberjack, she swung her cane like a pickaxe, its handle shoto catching the face of one Orcani and ripping it away cleanly as she swayed in a deliberate drunken manner to evade a crude return blow from other nearby Orcani spinning her old Jedi weapon and slamming its bottom point into a chest burning the heart out in a flare of green, transition with a slice that used all her weight into a fast horizontal slash that caught two more, some being hit by the shoto, others simply getting a fractured skull from the cane itself. She would prefer not to kill them, but reality did not cut her those kinds of breaks in these scenarios. It never had. It never would. She accepted that, much like she accepted she was not going to die peacefully someday.

"Yumi! Your Yari or my Cane? Lets see which does more damage!" She called out to her ally, as she engage three more Orcani through smoke and blood and rapidly spreading fires.

[member="Kurenai Yumi"]