Visions of the Blade

[4ND-R0]

Fringes of the Quelii Sector

Allara had felt in a rut for the longest time. As the Galaxy had churned and changed with the rise and fall of factions. She had kept to herself, stopping her nomadic movements to refuel and gather supplies as needed. She wanted to keep clear of the conflicts for now. On this day, however, she felt the Force pulling her to this sector. She had learned to listen to her visions, no matter how disruptive they tended to be. Now, these visions called to her, whispering a single word. Dathomir.

She turned on the hyperspace on her ship, tunneling to the coordinates of the witch homeworld. She could sense the percolation of energy from the ancient world. She maneuvered her personal craft to the far side of the planet. She knew not why, other than that is where the Force beckoned her to go. The ship descended into the atmosphere, and landed upon the surface. Allara stared off into the distance, seeing a village far off near where horizon met the land. She got out, and readied herself, starting the long trek to where she was called.

 

[4ND-R0]

As she moved along the road way to the village, she tapped into the vongsense. "Awaken, Raksha. Staff." Her voice hissed out darkly. From her waist slithered her most loyal companion, her amphistaff. The vong creature moved itself into her hand, becoming rigid and taking the shape of a quarterstaff. She used it as a walking stick to prod along the uneven dirt pathway to the village. She stopped, and clutched her head with her free hand. The vision of a dark figure stood ahead of her. Muscular and horned, it appeared to be the silhouette of a Zabrak warrior of some ilk. She shook her head and continued onward, the shade vanishing back into the nothingness. She saw the village start to get closer as she trekked onward. It was very tribal in structure, but it was dissimilar in many ways to the Witch villages that dotted the other parts of the planet. The air was quiet. No voices, no children playing, only occasional birdsong in the distance. This settlement had been long been deserted. Yet, the whispers in the Force grew louder.

 

[4ND-R0]

Allara saw that the sun of Dathomir was growing darker. Same came with the presence of the dark side that seemed to linger in the village. It made her feel cold, causing gooseflesh to prickle along the back of her neck. As she continued onward, she made a note of the styles present in some of the remaining buildings. There were clear influence from Sith, Night sister, and Zabrak culture. Forward! the voices of the Force screamed at her, causing her to growl back at them. Their pull lead her to some sort of cemetery, strange mausoleums dotting the area. She reached out, and the Force distorted and twisting her site. The dark presence was manifesting itself to her.

Swirls of green mist twisted and contorted around themselves. The ghostly image of an old woman took form. A pale, and garbed in crimson robes, the specter stared intently at the young woman before a small smile upturned.

"So. You are the one who the Spirits have guided here. Curious. But no matter. The voice of the Galaxy has its purposes for these things." The phantom spoke with a calmness​ yet with authority, her voice resonating in the Force.

"Who are you?" Allara questioned, feeling slightly intimidated by the spirit.

The specter chuckled. "I am what remains. The shadow of the once known Mother Talzin. And the hands of fate have brought you here to claim it."

 

[4ND-R0]

"To claim what?" Allara asked with some apprehension toward the Spirit of the Witch.

The woman in red circled around the girl, studying her with careful, wise eyes before stopping in front of her and beginning to speak.

"Savage! Savage Oppress! Long ago, my dear, the Sith and Jedi were in conflict during the time known as the Clone Wars. During its ebb, the Sith came to my clan seeking a warrior to fight on their behalf. Savage was a Nightbrother, one of the strongest of the males of our clan. We evoked the Spirits, giving him strength, making him as a beast. Before long, this long forgotten son of Dathomir had journeyed across the Galaxy, hunting the Jedi. He became the pupil of the Sith, constructing the signature weapon. A lightsaber. Once Savage was felled upon Mandalore, he was eventually reclaimed by his brothers, buried with the weapon. And now...It calls to you."

The Elder Witch stared Allara over more, looking closely at the weapon in her hands.

"But first! You have associated long enough with traitors and heretics whom the Spirits deny. The Vong are godless. They have stifled your true path. Be rid of the serpent you carry so close!"

Allara refused, holding Raksha carefully. The spectre of Talzin took it as a challenge, and formed a blade made of the solidified mist. The witch ghost swung at the girl. "YOU DENY WHO YOU ARE! You seek out the power of magick, but you hide behind the weapons of cowards and unbelievers!"

While the blade did not slice the staff, the serpent was indeed knocked from her hands.

 

[4ND-R0]

Allara scrambled to get her signature weapon. Yet, the spectre of the witch stood in her way. Raksha uncoiled itself and hissed vehemently at the ancient spirit. “Begone, foul thing!” The witch clenched her hand, volley after volley of green tinted lightning at the Vong creature. The amphistaff shrieked and hissed until it became little more than char and ash.

“No!” Allara screamed out, “I'll kill you! I will destroy you!”

“Yes! The rage that you have denied yourself! It have been all but lost to you...Until now.” The spirit of Talzin laughed a deep, resonating laugh, “Feed the rage. Let loose the emotions you deny yourself. The sorrow for your master, fallen in battle. The anger, for those who took your arm and mentor. Claim the blade, feel as the warrior of Dathomir had. Claim the blade!”

The spirit pointed towards the cemetery. One of the tombs were open. In one laid the skeleton of a male zabrak. One of the skull's horns was broken and one of its arms was missing. Yet laid across its chest was a lightsaber, one built for two blades. The spirits repeated the mantra of claim the blade. Allara reached out into the Force, summoning the weapon to her. Once in her hands, she ignited the blades. The emission roared like an animal, and the resonance of the plasma hummed more deeply than a normal lightsaber.

“Good.” The spirit congratulated, “One thing remains. Strike me down, and your path will be corrected.”

 

[4ND-R0]

Allara screamed in a fury at the haunting figure.

Lightsaber met the misty blade of the specter. Energy crackled and fizzled. They pulled back from one another, changing their stances and hurling toward one another. The incoming darkness of evening was torched with the spinning flurries of red and sickly, Dathomiri green. Allara fought with all her fury and anger at the spirit, accepting my the dark side into her soul. They kept at it, crackles bases meeting sounding the air. The spirit of the witch was relentless, making it appear that the young woman was losing the duel. With a strong strike, Allara was knocked into the dirt, the red blades retracting as she hit the kill switch. The crimson robed phantom circled about Allara, like a female rancor pacing around her prey.

“Perhaps I was wrong. Maybe you were merely too lost and misguided​ to have claimed that weapon.” Talzin’s spirit chided at the girl, “No matter. I shall make your transition into death painless.”

The spectre grasped her smoky blade, raising it high for a killing her blow. Allara saw her chance, reigniting the lightsaber and plunging it into the spirit's chest. Talzin gasped and only smirked. The witch's pale talon of a hand reached to Allara’s forehead, pressing her finger into it.

 

[4ND-R0]

Allara felt her eyes snap open. The moon of Dathomir hung high in the night sky. There was no signs of the spirit that she had engaged. Had it all been a dream? She looked around her surroundings. She herself was sitting in a meditative stance she did not recall sitting into. She was still in the old Nightbrother village. Yet, when she looked to her side, there was the lightsaber by her side. Not too far away was the charred, serpentine skeleton of her former companion, slowly destintegrating in the wind as ash. She was disheartened at the site, but accepted that, in some manner, what she had seen was real.

She stood up from her position, grabbing the lightsaber at her side. She ignited only one of the blades , using it as a torch in the darkness where moonlight was still obscure. She started back on her trek to her starship. She inspected the weapon carefully, noting it was in rather good condition, likely owing it to the time spent sealed within its old master's tomb all these years. She could see her ship up ahead, using the seething red light as a guide to it. Upon reaching her craft, she disengaged the weapon, and hooking into a loop on her belt.

She opened the cockpit of her starship, warming up its engines before jumping inside. She began the takeoff procedures, closing the cockpit and the craft starting to lift up from the ground. As Allara looked out her viewport, she noticed a strange sight out in the distance. A figure surrounded by the green mists of Dathomir, who became one with it, and the green disappeared like a breeze blew it away. Allara got a chill up her spine before taking off and flying off from the planet, jumping into hyperspace one in the stars.

(End of scene)