Previously...
Nightmother Vytal Noctura stood in the Assembly Hall of
Vureshakkairn Castle with the spiral surround empty of her Sisters and Brothers. The previous night had been spent communing with the spirits. Such entities held their own agendas and their own understanding of the worlds; rarely would they give you a direct answer, and often they might give you no answer at all. It was something she taught younger Witches not become upset by. Were you enraged because of other species that did not understand your tongue? Because their cultures held different beliefs or understandings at lesser or greater importance than yourself?
Annoying as it might be, there were reasons. It was a Witches' duty to know when to push the spirits to the brink, and when to accept the role they had chosen for themselves. In
what had warranted a prolonged conversation with the host, they gave only vague portent of things to come. It would seem this was a trial for the Living to bear. So be it.
As the senior Witches and Warlocks of the Mandragora drifted into the chamber, Vytal lowered her gaze from the shaft of light that pierce the diffusely lit chamber.
"Sisters, Brothers, welcome. How go the preparations for our celebration?"
"Preparations for Founder's Day have already been completed, Nightmother," Sister Cadeen replied with a slightly higher octave to her voice than was typical.
A soft and brief laugh followed.
"For our Family, Sister Cadeen."
With a light hearted deflation of the lungs and a smile, those present acknowledged a misunderstanding of Vytal's words.
"We will have the supplies prepared in time, Nightmother. Those that will be remaining at the Castle during the Founder's Day celebration will see to it all is ready."
That was good news indeed. Originally, they were going to celebrate the Spirits of Ryloth, the strength of their bonds as a Family, and all the hard work so many had put forth in preparation for the People of Ryloth's own festivities. Now, Vytal wondered if their humble gathering of food, frolicking, and family would take on another need -- to recover from whatever storm sat on the horizon.
"Thank you, Sisters and Brothers. Your work these past few weeks have been a testament not only to each other, but to our relationship with the people of this world that offers us shelter."
There was much they would speak on to ensure their Family's continued health, and to ensure that of the world -- the
galaxy -- in which they lived. A Witch was nothing without a thriving land of the living. Much was said, and much needed saying. Some things, however, the Nightmother did
not speak. Some would be reserved to private conversation for the days to come.
Today...
Vytal smiled as she stood off to the side in watch of her Sisters, Brothers, and fellow Confederates -- most notably the Twi'lek on this day -- as they cheered, danced, sang, and basked in the presence of their equals. Yes, the Nightsister still felt the pride of Dathomir in her heart, but over the years since arriving among the worlds of the Confederacy she had learned to appreciate the company of others. The spirits might have helped on that front as well -- some kind, and some with a barbed tongue. After all, a Nightmother represented not only those of the Mandragora, but of
all living or dead. She was a medium between worlds, and one concerned with ensuring the balance between them.
Days like these reminded her of gatherings of a Clan of her Nightsisters. Only such things had been far more intimate, while this celebration spanned an entire bio-dome of people. It
was exhausting simply from so much exhilaration and cheer present. Smiling, shaking hands, tasting delicacies, drinking, walking, standing, and talking. Even when she wasn't occupied with the people, Vytal's eyes were on her Sisters and Brothers like
Shamira Karuto
,
Effie, and
Julra Repraj
to ensure they were happy and well hydrated. Rank may have its privileges, but there was no shortage in responsibilities.
Every now and again, the Nightmother herself found a gaggle of younglings flocking about her. Some pointed at the tattoos clearly on her face and asked if they were like the markings of their parents or... or like those on dancers. The first time
that one had been blurted out caused Vytal's throat to constrict shut before a sharp cough managed to break its hold.
"Tribal markings," Vytal had declared.
"Your people and mine share certain things in common. Why, some of you may even discover you have the same power when you grow up."
Her left hand reached out so that a small stream of power would flow into a nearby stave stuck into the ground with a golden crystal atop it. The crystal gently came to life a moment before an emerald and ethereal
jart unfurled its wings and took flight about the children. They cheered and even tried to catch it as it soared by and overhead. Soon the power connected with another
Conduit of Souls nearby and the winged bird's path expanded out further; it ducked and weaved for the children's enjoyment only to lead them to a nearby stall of sweets.
The pale Witch smiled and nodded to the stall owner. It was far from the first band of rascals to have something put onto the Mandragora's tab for the day.
Having heard and read of the history of Ryloth, Vytal was grateful the Confederacy built these bio-domes. To think the children of this world had been held hostage to the brutality of the Brightlands or the terrors of the Nightlands, with many forced to the sanctuary of underground caves... Not that a Nightsister was soft hearted of these things. Dathomir was no playground. Nevertheless, even the young on Dathomir could play freely and openly -- within sight of their Mothers or Fathers. Caves could be fun. There were a few she'd seen as a young girl herself. But there were trees on the surface. Plains of grass. Flowing rivers. The sweep of wind carrying foreign and familiar scents alike. The Twi'lek had the option of where to live, and how to live. Why should the Nightmother do any less than approve of this application of material and engineering? Not everyone had the luxury of living in fertile valleys as the village closet to the Castle did; this gave them that opportunity.
After a little while, Vytal caught sight of the parade not far from the crowd in which she stood. Today was nothing if not a success with so many clamoring about enjoying one another's company and the luxuries of a growing society. The Mandragora bolstered the local economy whenever possible; they had more than enough needs not even the Valley of Life could fulfill all of them. The Valley's purpose was largely for exotic ingredients especially acquired from more hostile environments. The Sisters and Brothers even helped commune with the soil of the world to ensure bountiful harvests. Negative energies could fester given time and stunt the growth of food and souls alike. Times like these only reinforced
why they went to such lengths. Even if the more reclusive members still grumbled about not understanding, Vytal knew even on a strictly utilitarian level they understood. There was no need for Ryloth to become a desolate world bereft of life so a handful of hermits could study 'undisturbed.' The Castle offered them all those grumpy few needed even when visited by nearby villagers.
With the storm on the horizon, the Nightmother, an Obsidian Lord of the Knights Obsidian, had left orders anything out of the ordinary should be sent to her. While the Lord Commander might very well have the responsibility to act, Vytal was not one to lounge off to the side and wait to be lead. So when Madalena Antares sought to make her announcement, Command made sure to contact the Nightmother over her armor's encrypted commlink with a forward of the contents. Central Intelligence was not the only ones with eyes and ears on the ground -- the station in orbit gladly picked up the broadcast and relayed it to the appropriate personnel.
Vytal drifted off to one side of the street to more clearly hear what was said, and to keep it from the ears of those around her.
To hear what the former Knight Commander
Madalena Antares
said. About the Twi'lek being slaves, and having a
fleet approaching Ryloth. In truth, it wasn't the accusation of enslaving the people of Ryloth that struck her. Anyone could claim the occupants of a world were enslaved. 'From a certain point of view...' everything was possible. The Jedi were slaves of dogma. The Sith were slaves to their own desires. Anarchists were slaves to an impossible ideal. Even the Mandragora were slaves to maintaining the galactic balance -- it was why they did not engage in campaigns to 'rule the galaxy' and other such nonsense. No one was
truly free, but that was sophistry. Life wasn't about being
truly free, because when you were free of everything and everyone you were truly
alone.
No, what the Nightmother was upset about was outsiders bringing a
fleet to "liberate" the Twi'lek people while they celebrated in the streets. Not only that, but people led by someone that should know better. A person that would no doubt have others among their number that were once called friend. Most of whom Vytal hadn't a chance to know personally, but that didn't matter. It was the
principle of the affront. The nature of the strike across their collective faces. And -- and -- they
graciously offered the Confederacy the chance to pick up their bags, board the nearest ship,
abandon the people of Ryloth, and join them for a party where they could celebrate "liberating" Ryloth. A woman of Dathomir did not take insults to one's pride
gracefully. They may not fly off into a rage as a Sith Lord would, but you could be sure such things would not be forgot.
It was a good thing she had stepped aside and faced a building at that moment. The intensity in which the Nightmother's green eyes glowed with the energy of another realm would not be so cheery as the younglings that swarmed the festival desired. A deep and calming breath helped her calm the turbulence within, however, as she was not one to fly off the handle -- as she might have done as a young Sister. She was responsible for not only the Mandragora, but the people of this world. It was her responsibility to reflect that in her demeanor.
Yet, before Vytal could turn and stride off to find those of command present at this gathering -- as many were bound to be given the importance of Ryloth in the Confederacy's history -- another alert came in from the feed. This one Command prefaced with a statement that it came from the holonet; and was something that the pale Witch would catch sight off her or there at a distance from others with screens. As it would play out, Vytal hoped such did not end up on a public monitor of any kind. It was not material suited to the day's splendor.
To be perfectly honest -- though only the Spirits would know this in the moment -- Vytal had no idea who the man in the holo-vid was. Later she would undoubtedly learn the name 'Elav Doneeta,' but as Vytal watched the name and the intended purpose was not immediately clear. What was clear, however, was the nature of such a video. Even though she did not see such things as frequent (certainly not within the Confederacy's borders) the Nightmother
had seen videos of the sort. Some might think a leader of Witches would not bother with the affairs of others -- and they were right, but only to a point. The Mandragora did not stick their heads in the sand and pretend the galaxy did not exist. Vytal Noctura certainly did not, and so she knew the same things as any other Obsidian Lord would. One, being that a travesty was to follow.
Create a gateway between here and where the poor man knelt. Spare him from what was to come! If it were only so easy. Magick could do
many inexplicable things. However, while powered by spirits and gods, it was not all powerful in the hands of the Living. Witches and Warlocks did not by simply existing possess the power so many Sith Sorcerers sought. There wasn't nearly enough information needed to form a portal between here and where this man knelt on display before the galaxy. Even a Witch could be helpless at times. More often than they would care to admit.
Unlike the broadcast demanding their surrender, Vytal's eyes did not catch fire as she heard this
Oceiros Sunstrider
's words. She scowled. Her heart pounded with the desire to tear a hole open in space to save an innocent person. What he said seemed as misled as the other broadcast, but this one was different. It wasn't a philosophical dispute or an arrogant attempt to win a war without firing a shot in a way that was
never going to happen, and both sides knew it. No, this... this was merely a travesty. The murder of a man that wrote a book. Yes, a book some no doubt thought propaganda. Yes, a book that might not cover
every facet of history and focus on a particular narrative. People were free to write
other books, and spread more
facts if anything was missed. They were not, however,
free to murder someone they disagreed with.
"Is this what you wanted?" The Nightmother asked aloud with no one to hear here but the spirits of the wind. Even if this... person was no of Madalena's fleet. Even if they had nothing to do with one another, the timing was so auspicious, and so uncanny to fall within an eight minute deadline...
Srina Talon
's voice then tapped into the same frequencies that had moments ago been used by the terrorists. No finer example existed as they literally employed fear itself from orbit against the people of the planet. The effect was not so strong as to driven people into a frenzy, but more akin to 'unease,' but the intent wasn't to persuade people through the power of strong argument. The beheading and an invading fleet were bits of strong indicators as well.
When the effect conjured by
Kyrinov
descended upon the crowds, Vytal could feel it. Not just the effect, but the effect upon those around her. On the spirits that had gathered as they had been drawn by such an outpouring of
life. It wasn't natural. Not this widespread, and not this uniform. Coupled with what had just happened, however, even if not everyone had born witness to one or both by whatever means... No. The Nightmother would not grant them this. They had already taken
too much this day. It was high time to push back.
While the Elders (
Darth Metus
) made their position clear, and soundly rejected the offer to be 'freed' from the Confederacy, the pale Witch strode through the crowds. She did not smile, nor did she scowl. Bright green eyes were fixed on a distant point, and those that saw her coming moved aside. As she drew near the parade, her hand reached out to pluck one of the Conduits from the ground. Vytal then found a float that had been assembled by the Twi'lek for their day of celebration. For their day of rejoicing at being a community that
would find their own way. They did not need Masters. They were not Slaves.
From this perch, the Nightmother looked out over the crowd as many seemed distraught by the adversary's influence. Their reactions, even int he face of Srina's decree, dulled by the cloud that pressed upon them from above.
"Daughters and Sons of Ryloth, hear me. Today... is your day. The Confederacy may have helped oust the slavers. The Confederacy may have helped provide you materials to build domes, to build homes. Seeds to grow food. Medicine for the sick, and the injured. All these things would have been meaningless if it were not for the strong hearts, minds, and souls of the Twi'lek people. The Spirits of this world have born witness to your suffering, and they watch over you even now, and they are elated at what you -- the people of Ryloth -- have achieved. You have taken these opportunities and built your communities. You have become stronger together and together will overcome any hardship. And now you will overcome those that would tear down everything you have built, and condemn your families to be torn apart. And we, the Mandragora, and we, the Confederacy of Independent Systems, will be there with you. Supporting you. Because this is your world. Let no one take it from you!" Vytal thrust the crystal into the air and poured her power into it.
The crystal flared to life, and then those Conduits at three corners to the intersection, then the Conduits down the road from them, and those down the road from them. Vytal pushed her power through a network of Conduits that had been laid for a grand display at the climax of the ceremony. Row after row, column after column, the crystals came to life and from them radiated not only a glow of power, but a warmth that seeped into one's body and invigorated the mind. It did not bolster one's muscles, grant one mystic powers, or wipe away the pain of what had been witnessed. It gave the people in the dome the one thing the adversary sought to rob them of --
resolve. The resolve to seek shelter. The resolve to stand in fight. The resolve to protect their friends, their family, and their way of life.
Today was not the day the Twi'lek accepted a fate forced upon them by outsiders; but they would not have to do so alone.
Thalia Senn
