Walk With Monsters

[Darth Prazutis]

Cimmerian Citadel, Cazador
Capital of the Dark Legion

Life once grew here.

A world filled with jungles, forests, plains, the world was filled with a diverse ecosystem of flora and a proud peoples long history. It was a world with a long past and a proud people, but all that changed when the Sith Empire and its war machine came. The people of Cazador were targeted for systematic extermination on a planet wide scale by the Shadow Hand, with the blessings of the Sith Emperor. A vast horde of monsters unlike anything ever seen before was unleashed on the battlefields while the Lord of Lies set loose a vast horde of cosmic horrors ripped from beyond the fabric of reality. The Great Devourer, Beast of a Thousand Maws gazed upon Cazador and its hordes washed over it like a flood.

They burned the world black inch by inch a dark ichor spreading across the surface like a virus hardened by the raging firestorm the resilient peoples faced from the graug war machine. In the end their deaths weren't a possibility, their end not just a potential future. Their fate was sealed between those two walls trapped everywhere they went, it didn't matter how far they tried to run. It wasn't the first people to be exterminated by the great hordes they were hardened masters of genocide. The indigenous population of Cazador, their entire civilization was systematically destroyed stone by stone. Their people were slaughtered, the lucky ones were consumed while the unfortunate ones had their minds shattered by cosmic demons their bodies twisted so far they couldn't even be considered the same species anymore.

When the Sith-Imperial war machine finally moved on the Empire gave Cazador to High Warlord Malgrog as a new home for the Dark Legion, the Glorious Horde. In the aftermath every inch of green had been stripped clean off the barren, lifeless world the earth turned a deep black. The blight seeped into the very ecosystem changing the very weather patterns, even the skies were ravaged by the twisted touch of darkness. Clouds became these thick, black smog poisoned things that completely covered the surface stopping the rays of the sun from ever fully piercing the veil. It created an eerie shadowy sun colored twilight as the rays mixed with the black clouds to create a baleful glow. It was enough to see and perfect for beasts of darkness to roam the earth without fear. They did so with fervor as the entirety of the Dark Legion started settling into the world.

They built.

The legion were tunneling experts its entire population typically lived beneath the surface creating vast tunneling complexes far away from the light. Great machines and gargantuan worms were set loose carving out tunnels like honeycombs, but the legion also built upward into the sky. A unique material was used dark stone and metals so dark in color they seemed to absorb the very light. They built a citadel so great it rose miles into the sky outfitted with battlement after battlement, tower after tower. Defenses were installed on every inch of their twisted creation that stood above while tunnels were woven beneath in great pits on its sides. In its front an unbelievably massive gate was installed for this jagged, spiked creation. The final portion was a great singular tower that rose high, everything around glowed with a deep orange. When it was last finished their great construct was given a name.

The Cimmerian Citadel.

Once unleashed the vast hordes spread like a virus into the millions, they roamed free. Their great hordes of monsters were unleashed with indiscriminate wild horrors that roamed the plains. A great mob above and beneath the surface congregated around the Cimmerian Citadel. It felt like everything was locked into a perpetual state of war on the worst battlefield in existence, it seemed like absolute chaos. It was a war waged on a world that could only be described now as hell in this reality, a nightmare spilled from the confines of the netherworld itself. Their darkness unleashed in a way that could make even psychopaths weep. It was carnage incarnate, an orgy of violence, debauchery unleashed. The vile winds carried an overpowering stench of death, decay, munitions, filth, and never ending fire. But most of all the gale winds carried an overpowering smell of blood so thick it hung over every other smell.

The very smell in the air was gut wrenching, vomit inducing, it was the thick kind of smell that stuck to everything skin, clothes, and armor. It was the kind that burned the eyes and nostrils, that seeped into the mouth, it stuck to ones person like the smell of raw fish. Everything was covered in the overpowering aura of darkness, a storm of black energy that hung over everything after the unholy acts committed on this world. It was a place that never slept. It was a berserkers dream, a sinners paradise the capital was locked into a perpetual party. The hordes moved rapidly day and night monsters of varying sizes swept across the barren plains while swarms swept through the skies in great flocks. The sounds of battle through clashing blades, gnashing teeth, casted spells, gunfire, cannon blasts, and laser shots with every other sound imaginable could be heard at all times.

But most of all was the voices.

The beasts constantly screeched, growled, and roared they spoke in their own native tongues the entire legion shared and often they would chant. They were chaotic, unpredictable, wild, and brought misery like poison to everything they touched. It was so vile that not even imperial dungeoneers set foot among their ranks if they didn't have to. Imperial dungeon ships could regularly be seen hovering a short distance off the ground throwing prisoners off like others would care packages, they dropped in great number and fell like falling rain down to the surface below. They would find bands of the monstrous graug waiting, slavers ready to take the victims in. The fall never killed them for that would've been a kindness the Sith wouldn't give them. Once they were herded like cattle they were brought through and into the pits never to be seen again. Sometimes the hundreds dropped from a single ship would be immediately fed to the great beasts. The fate of prisoners was so vile, so horrific it was beyond imagining and their blood curtling screams were a constant presence.

The ship carrying [member="Adara Raxis"] and [member="Beth Cadera"] were hailed in orbit and scanned by warships, they were already given authorization by the Shadow Hand himself and were sent down to the surface. After the construction of the Cimmerian Citadel the legion built what could be described as a fortress city beneath the surface, while other above ground buildings were built around the great citadels perimeter. Fortifications including row after row of trenches surrounded the extensive areas perimeter, but there was also evidence of advanced technology. It was strange how such a crude population was so uplifted, how anything worked in their wasteland. The mandalorian shuttle was given coordinates to dock at a raised set of platforms off to the great citadels eastern side. It was a designated area for great transports to dock carrying imports, there might've been docking platforms high above but they weren't given clearance for those.

A small group of four Imperial Crownguard waited in formation on the oversized platform for the docking shuttle as eyes would peer up at it carrying lightsaber pikes with other weapons locked on their hips. Once the shuttle docked they would approach the ramp. It felt like thousands of eyes suddenly shifted to the shuttle as beasts nearby and a distance away saw it, heard it, even smelled it coming. But anything that appeared to get curious took one look at the Crownguard and went on their way. If anyone stepped out to meet them one of the guardsman spoke "Come with us, his excellency awaits. Listen to our instruction and don't ever deviate from our course. Your safety cannot be guaranteed if you do."

 

[Adara Raxis]

Captain Girak Kierke stood on the hatchway of the shuttle and held [member="Beth Cadera"] against his side. The God-Prince.

Deity in flesh.

It was the glory of any proper Panathan to worship at the altar of the pugilistic and carnage-ridden bower of the Zambranos. And Girak Kierke was both Citizen, and former Deacon of Nereus… the tale of how his devotional Deacon-title became ‘former’ was one he refused to share… the shame and glory of it were far too precious a pain. His thumb grazed Beth’s shoulder. A strong arm pulled her close.

He was doing the will of the gods. A loyal man of the Citizenry. Head of House Fitz-Kierke, until Yasha took it from him… until she succeeded him…

… when this Mand’alor nonsense was concluded.

Girak Kierke was a holy man. He was doing the will of the gods. He was saving his family from the woes of a shattered future, when the inevitable implosion of the suckling Mandalorians left Yasha a husk of her youth. The Mandalorians… they already took too much.

The cacophony and decrepit chorus of Cazador struck in cooperation with the overwhelming smell. Girak shut his nostrils to it. He felt vomit curl up his throat and choked it down.

“Keep your eyes forward on the Crownguard. Do not look around. Beth, obey me. Focus ahead.” Girak nodded to the Imperial Crownguard who spoke. “We will follow his Excellency’s path. Come along, children.”

Girak Kierke was a holy man. He was doing the will of the gods. Someone had to clean up the constant messes Yasha’s family made. Yes… every muscle in his body threatened to flinch at the horrors hemming them in.

Only the mighty served the gods. Only the mighty were fit for their table of plenty. A thought curled in the back of his mind… this must have been what Yasha’s childhood was like. This must have been what Aditya raised her around.

"Stay holding onto me, Sunspot. We are nothing but chattle until we prove our worth." He squared his shoulders, looked to the path ahead and began the journey to a god’s table.

Today was a fantastic day for Adara Cadera. Papa Girak brought Adara and Bethy all the way to Cazador for one of their ‘shush hush don’t tell Buir or Baba’ visits!

And only a few days before her tenth birthday. Adara hopped out of the shuttle and ran ahead of Girak and Beth. Her laughter peppered the air.

“Come on! Hurry up! Uncle Prazamussus is waiting, hurry!” The girl giggled and skipped over a crimson puddle. Ran to the head Guard and brought out a glitter pen from her small pink bag.

“Gobo. Your name is Gobo now. See? Come on Gobo, hurry! We’re gonna miss it!” Writing a big ‘G’ on Gobo’s chestplate, Yasha’s child nodded with a grin and looked back to her great-grandfather and sister.

“Hurry up, you’re like iguana-sloths in the cold.” Adara dashed forward. There was nothing to fear on this wasteland of a planet. Not when Adara knew the best secret of all, one not even her beloved Papa or Bethy could ever understand.

These were all prey, and she was the devourer. Uncle Braxus told her so. [member="Darth Prazutis"].

“Hmm hmmhmmm! Oops, no puddles on my dress!” Adara stamped her foot, and on the road in front of them, the puddles of crimson and gore dried up. She wrote a large W on another of the Crownguard’s chests. “Sloobieboo taught me that one, Wembley. Hey! You’re going to get my sister and Papa safe to Uncle Prazamussus, or I’m going to end your soul and wear it like a bracelet.”

One more laugh, and Adara trotted on. There was no business getting red mud on her new shoes.

 

[Gaia Sunaris Cadera]

Bethany leaned onto the side of her Great-Grandfather. A million and one thoughts ran through Beth’s mind – was she safe? Adara was adored by the one who invited them here. Girak, in a lifetime of servitude to the Gods, had some form of leverage. But Beth? The only claim to fame she had was being an excellent medical student and a unique talent in Force Healing.
A Force ability that the dark-side could not easily use.

Dark, heavy circles under the young woman’s eyes were covered with a delicate touch of makeup. The dreams continued to worsen, despite her best attempts to fight back. Papa had helped, 3 years ago. It was only a temporary relief, though. And she hid it, not wanting to worry her family or friends. There were enough issues in the galaxy than some recurring bad dreams, after all. The twins were still young, Adara was growing up, she was in University. Life kept going.

A purple, laced dress adorned the lithe, tall frame of Beth. Caramel blonde hair was brushed and flowed past her shoulders. She may not be in her beskar’gam, much to her Aunt’s insistence, but at least she was fashionable. Exposed, but confident. Terrified, but pretty. At least… She had something to keep herself from making a dash back onto the ship and to curl up, in a hidden ball.

One hand squeezed Papa’s arm. He was the only light she felt, the only little bit of hope that was left here. And she stayed close to him. While she was terrified, she knew he must be going through many thoughts and feelings. A God invited them here. A deity, the God-Prince. But, perhaps, it wasn't as strange as she assumed. The Epicanthix valued fear, power. Fighting. Brutality. It seemed, in many ways, in their blood.

Beth whispered her own prayers to the Goddess of Safety, and Shiraya, in some hope that the Gods of Naboo would somehow protect her in a place as ripped apart as Cazador.

But man, did she wish she had her buy’ce. The stench arrived through the ship. She took a deep breath and held her breath as she tried to adjust to the rot. The overwhelming rot in the air. The only solace was the cadavers she had practiced on. It was still on a whole different level. She coughed and held her own vomit down.

But the noises, they hurt worse than the smell. Shots fired. Screams. Cannons, artillery. The disgusting sound of flesh being torn away from its origin. She heard, and felt, death. Pain. Chaos. So much death. So much… Misery. There was no hope, here. It had been extinguished – like the original species of the planet. Exterminated. Killed. Murdered. By the very people she was supposed too… Embrace? Be friendly with? Somehow accept as her sister jumped in joy – ignoring the obvious evil that permeated from the very atmosphere?

Your safety cannot be guaranteed… Could it be guaranteed, to begin with? Yes, Adara was safe. But her and Girak? She wasn’t so sure. “I won’t,” she whispered, her voice betraying her fake confidence. Her face adorning small winces at the screams, the fighting, and the worst smell – a smell she feared she would never be able to not smell. Beth managed a weak, small nod towards the Crownguard. They would escort them.

Was this some sick test of their worth to the Dark Lords? The bright light that shone from Beth felt weaker, almost as if she would be disconnected and overwhelmed by the Dark. All she could do was try to breath. To hold her fears in and move her feet. One step at a time.

Beth watched [member="Adara Raxis"] run and then jumped over… A puddle. “Adara,” Beth whispered, “D-don’t get your d-dress dirty, okay?” Another small comfort – her little sister threatened the guards with their souls if they didn’t protect her and Papa. At least she knew Adara had their backs in case Darth Prazutis decided to throw them into the pits of death below.

Beth didn’t want to go fast. In fact, she was fine it being a slow, slow, walk. She did not want to see the face of [member="Darth Prazutis"], not again. She had seen it once before, along with Carnifex. It was years ago now, but the evil that irradiated from him, from Darth Carnifex horrified her. She had not been able to shake the terror off, the never-ending nightmares of unknown. Could she see his face without having a total breakdown?

Well, maybe. She was strong. At least, her mind tried to convince herself as they moved forward. “I can handle this,” she whispered to herself. Deep breaths. Push the fear down, away.

If only she had brought nose plugs…

 

[Darth Prazutis]

The towering guardsman said nothing as they too up positions with two in front and two behind [member="Adara Raxis"] and [member="Beth Cadera"]. They began a journey along a wide path, a road cut along the side of the barren rock of the pit and punched into the earth by jagged edged metal plates. The path was massive and they moved close to the right side, allowing for bands of the hulking brute graug and mobs of the smaller graut to shuffle by. All of them had different armor and weapons all painted and styled differently, while some carried banners and wore symbols on their chests. All of them wore the symbol of the Dark Legion but they also carried other ones whose purpose one could only speculate at. They spoke in a disturbing, guttual tongue that hurt the ears and crawled across the skin. The beasts fought and fights were common along the road, they chanted and roared in great circles as two of the hulking brutes battled it out.

But there was also disturbing sights too.

Slaves so beaten down and abused their bodies warped by the darkness they were emaciated, their skin bone white and completely hairless. They wore wicked harnesses and were treated more like animals and mongrels than they were actual beings. They moved quickly while some were so beaten down that they could only hop and crawl on all fours like animals, the heavy handed graug were ready to beat and whip those who didn't listen. A group of new arrivals looked vastly different in their gray ragged garb. The crownguard stopped as a large warband crowded the center of the road with a force of new arrivals. The graug had already replaced the covering gray garb with the small slaves garb and harnesses that the others worse. One of the slaves a defiant man with the gleam of a soldier in his eyes was shaking, but still spit on one of the graug, a monstrous nine foot tall hulk of a creature. The man was struck so hard in the chest that a sickening snap rang out as the beast shattered every bone in his torso. He was ripped out of line and held up in the air, before the slaver tossed him straight into the crowd of the warband.

What happened next was horrific.

The other slavers began to mercilessly whip the entire long line of slaves for the defiance while the rest of the warband tore into the man, eating him alive right before their very eyes. Bones, entrails, and other such gore went flying into the air with screams so bad they were the kind that never quite left you. All of a sudden however a great boom rang out in the distance in the direction of the citadel, a thunderclap so great it shook the earth in a tremor. The entire warband shifted their eyes staring towards the citadel while some seemingly with some sort of communications reached out. "Hold." A guardsman said walking forward he seemed to address one of the beasts who stood taller than the rest, thinner. A Hyal Hask elite spoke to him in a foreign tongue pointing in the direction of the citadel, before barking orders to the entire band they all ran down the same road. Several other bands passed them in a run as well. The leader of their escort came back "There's an incident at the main gate, untrained Glycons have gotten loose. We'll need to go through the hollow to get to an alternate entrance stay close your standard communications systems may not work down in the tunnels, and if you get lose you won't ever find your way out." The guard said. The entire escort shifted as the leader took position in what was their rear, and began to take them off the beaten path.

They were escorted to a great ramp that wound down the side of the pits cliff, the pit itself threw off heat like a furnace making the smell worse. It was astonishing just how complex and deep the tunnels system ran, they were cut many miles deep. Beneath it was a true horrorshow an entire city of these beasts cut beneath the surface. It was a controlled chaos as tunnels branched off and bridges were carved between the rock paths going out in all directions around them. But what the group also saw was slaves. Slaves of all races that could only be described as chattel were suspended by meat hooks driven into them, their flayed bodies on full display. It was a mix while many were still alive and screaming, others whimpered their voices gone from shrieks. The barbaric, unholy acts these beasts committed in plain view as the group started their trek down into the pit was vomit inducing.

While many paths branched out the deeper they went down the main ramp as they entered the hollow they saw what could only be described as shops, organized piles of mismatched weapons, armor, gear and other supplies in great piles while dimunitive graut serviced their brethren. In other rooms it was a terrible sight as cold air swept out, and yet more slaves were hung on meat hooks, butcher shops for the masses. Some were diced up while others were dragged kicking and screaming only to be tossed off the side into beast pits to feed the many beasts of war the legion brought into battle. Many of the legions different species gave the group a wide berth, but it stell felt like walking down the streets of Coruscant during the busiest seasons. Quite suddenly a graug stumbled out of a tunnel and bumped straight into Beth, burping in their direction a foul smelling breath. He offered her a rather large bottle that was in his hand and spoke in that guttural language.

"I wouldn't touch that if I were you. It's graug brewed grog. Some of the strongest brewed alcohol in existence. I've seen it paralyze wookies, and kill even the greatest mandalorian mercenary drinkers after just a shot. It's extremely toxic, but every species here is able to drink it just fine." The guardsman said. If Beth didn't take it the man barked in graugspeak and the inebriated graug stumbled back into the tunnel he came out from.

 

[Adara Raxis]

The tunnels were a temporary purgatory, which shuddered into Girak’s spine. There was no temporary for Aditya.

How could the gods do this? How could they allow... this? The smell alone stung long tears into Girak’s eyes. He let them fall.

Those years prior, between her resurrection and her death, Girak’s daughter Aditya confided in her father of the experiences she and Yasha survived in the Netherworld. Couldn’t talk to Preliat, her husband. He had enough nightmares. She choked and shook, hands clinging so hard to the bottles of brandy her nails bled.

“Yasha don’t know how abnormal it all was. I kept trying to teach her but... Gods Daddy... Gods I... I can’t do this. I can’t handle Preliat’s nightmares and my own. Not and live with a kid who stabs her... everyone.” She tried to leave. To come home, stopped in perpetuity by Preliat’s hand on their daughter’s shoulder. In his ire Girak never understood his daughter’s decisions, or the fear which ate away at Aditya’s bravery or will to fight. Emptied of all but a coiled resentment for the child who slept easiest in her bed on Mandalore.

Aditya died choking on her last scream. Her soul found no peace. It was locked in the Nether, no tranquility in the gods’ bower. No return to the splendour of paradise. A holding pattern caused by the daughter she resented.

Girak was a holy man, he did the will of the Gods. Eventually his value would tip the scales. Eventually Aditya’s soul would be given peace. A prize to be won from fealty to the gods.

The tunnel was depravity without ceasing. Girak held [member="Beth Cadera"] firm to his side in hopes of hiding her from the worst. Slaves travailed in punishment. Those who did not please the deities were given to please those who did. It was simple mathematics. Harsher in reality than the housemaids and houseboys he and his spouses had in their Panathan Estate. Here there was no demure path of the servantile. Nothing but suffering without rectification. No peace but eventual and painful death.

As they passed a series of meat hooks, Girak pulled both arms around Beth, and hid her face in his chest. Girak said nothing. He took it all in. Aditya and Yasha lived like this for thirteen years. The least their Papa could do was survive an hour. Penance of his own for living the comfortable life, while his daughter suffered.

“I should never have let Aditya and Yasha stay. I should have brought them home. I should have brought my babies home.” Girak knew bringing them home would have erased the girls around him. Adara would never have been born. Bethany would never have known him... but Yasha laid in the thrall of visceral dreams that caused her to quake and stutter. Bethany, for all her cosmetics, was terrified.

“I love you, sunspot. Close your eyes.” His hand draped over Beth’s eyelids. He held her fast. How selfish could he be? Aditya’s soul distended in ever death. Little Adara hummed and danced through the path, keeping relatively near the Crownguard and sometimes trotting off to investigate some of the guttural noises. The Graug turned their backs to her, or fled a precious step away from the child.

The gods’ favour, to be ignored. A tussle spilled over into the road, swooping dangerously into Wembley and Boogles, another of the four guards.

“OFF!!” Adara shouted. Her voice, succoured by the Force and consumed by a complete belief in her own power, ran across the Graug - a crashing tidal wave. She stood impervious to the dangers between the Graug and the Crownguards. “Boogles won’t need bacta today.”

A Graug swerved into the road to offer Beth a drink. Adara skipped to her sister’s side and stared up at the creature. Blue eyes shifted to the crimson and black of her infancy. A sensation akin to a growl tempered the air, floating around and clawing at any within distance.

“Gobo said no. Leave.” Adara was mere hours from ten years old, a product of her mother’s journeys. As Girak watched her stare down a monster as if it were an unruly pup in need of discipline, his jaw clenched tighter.

Adara was no more a product of this galaxy than her mother. She was above all, a being of the Chaos who came to bring order to the monstrous and peace to those who deserved her bower.

“Hurry, please? Pleasey-please please? Uncle Prazamussus might have cupcakes and I’m staaaarving. Oh! And sparkling irliade and those little pastries with the sausages inside and warm spice twists and hurry! Papa, you’re being tardy. It’s almost my birthday, pleeeeaase hurry up. And Gobo and Wembley and Boogles and Tom, you have to come have cupcakes, too. You have to!”

[member="Darth Prazutis"]

 

[Gaia Sunaris Cadera]

Step after step. One foot after another. That was the only thing Beth could really focus on. Between screams, begging, pleading for life, the grunt and agony from the various individuals – slaves or graug, as they were torn apart, fought, or whatever horrible thing awaited them. The guards that walked in front and behind were total machines. Beth couldn’t see their faces, but she could only assume this was normal for them.
Like it was for Adara. Her little sister seemed unfazed by smell, the increasingly brutal burn when they breathed. Or the increasingly terrible burning sensation in the eyes. The goosebumps raised upon the skin, the fight or flee response that screamed in their instincts.

Beth tried to keep her eyes ahead, back straight, confidence in each step she took. The Sith, the Epicanthix, they believed that showing no fear, showing strength was the determining factor of life. The weak could not survive in their world. Beth could surely find a way to avoid the horrors yet maintain some sense of strength. But, she did not want to see the horrors – it was already terrible enough that she could hear, smell, and sense the terror. Maybe she was weak.

Her eyes caught the defiant slave. A spit. Then, what seemed less than seconds later, the snaps from his bones – likely shattered from the force of the graug. A small, quiet scream escaped her lips.

But then, it was just his bones, blood, and destroyed organs thrown into the air. Beth almost stopped her walk as she watched the horror. What was his name? What of his family? It was some good fortune that the guards told them to hold. And with that, Beth took a moment to regather her bearings. What in the Gods name was a Glycon? What is inside the hollow? Beth nervously glanced to her Papa, deep concern that rested in her eyes.

“How much longer before we arrive?” She asked, somewhat bravely and perhaps out of turn. Was this some form of torture, some form of sick game Darth Prazutis was trying to play? He was meticulous, grounded in some form of hellish strategy. The only thing Beth was certain of, was that she would not let go of Papa, and she would definitely not get lost in this… Hell.

And so, the group began to walk into what was called the Hollow. She gripped Papa’s arms tightly as she listened, saw, and felt the death, the torture, and the pain permeating from the slaves. Her eyes were wide as she saw the Hollow. The countless, never ending rows of bodies dangling from their hell. Some still screamed, as if they had hope. Others had accepted their fate.

A hand draped over her eyes, one she could only assume was Papa’s. They had stopped, yet again. Her sister had yelled – the monsters which waded into their path momentarily. Tears streamed from her eyes – in reaction to the horror she had seen, but also due to the irritation from the atmosphere itself. A weak, muttered, “I love you too,” escaped her lips.

But there was no relief with her eyes closed. In the dark, she relived her worst nightmares.

The pattering of steps in the walls. The sounds of animals munching, tearing, apart flesh.

A swarm of locust, shredding life around a cracked moon and a burning Sundari. A demon with wings, a black halo atop its head, which flew high above in the sky. As it commanded the monsters, as if it as the source of the terror she dreamed every night. No matter how hard she tried, she could never reach it.

A body laid dead at the end of a hallway, a hallway she could not recognize despite the symbols had been etched into stone walls. Rats, large and hungry, creeped towards his body. Every step she took, monsters grabbed at her, ripping at her body. The never-ending pattering above and to her sides. In a way, it was like this terrible path they had taken. Monsters fought on each side – they tore themselves apart.

[member="Adara Raxis"] was more than capable of defending the small group. She knew she could protect them better than the guards combined.

She had come with Adara, with Papa. To try to help him, and to try to understand Adara and her abilities. It... It hadn't been long ago she helped Baiko to try to help 'heal' Adara. Knowing what she knew now, though, she had to realign her views. That's at least what she said when she asked to tag along. And it kinda was the truth. Papa had helped her understand, to reduce her worries about Adara. She just wished he could have been here before Baiko had decided to take things into her own hands.

But, in truth her reasons were selfish - she felt drawn to [member="Darth Prazutis"]. She hoped facing him would bring some sort of peace to her subconscious, that it would end the nightmares that plagued the young woman almost every night. She was, after all, desperate for a good nights rest.

Instead, she now believed it would only worsen. Like the angel in her nightmare, she was losing hope she would find it and resolve it.

A graug stumbled out and directly knocked into her. A soundless scream from her lips. She was brought out of her thoughts and subsequently pulled Girak’s hand away from her eyes as fast as she possibly could do it. In his hands was the most foul smelling drink she had taken a whiff of. Beth held back the vomit, yet again, that tried to escape her.

She tried to smack the drink out of his hand, her eyes glared down the graug which likely would leave with Adara’s threat. They listened to her, which was… Nice, but disconcerting.

“Yes, let’s hurry, please?” Words stumbled out of her mouth as she returned her grip back to her Papa.

 

[Darth Prazutis]

While the living hell they walked through pulled at their own sanity its beasts instilling a sense of fear as their eyes peered at them, the Crownguard were unphased. The Dark Legion had long been an army completely devoted to House Zambrano. They understood their place in the Zambrano Empire, and they understood just who the Crownguard were. No graug would dare confront or impede a Crownguard, a level of respect was shown from these monsters unlike anything that [member="Adara Raxis"] and Giral or [member="Beth Cadera"] would see. The elite guard were superior and the graug knew it and treated them as such, even when their appetite for violence took over they would never dare swing at the protectors of their masters. Even with a gathering of monsters, psychopaths, sociopaths, and other corrupted sharks through the leadership of the family they were all brought together, one cohesive whole.

The young Adara was protected some dark force, the mark of the Lord of Lies and his word ensuring she was exempt from the twisted games the legion played on the gathered group, the monsters would leave her alone. But her force wave would make it evident to some the strengths this hardened species had that were valued by their masters. As the fight broke out and spilled dangerously close to the rear guardsman, a hulking brute kicking his opponent clear into the road the young Adara unleashed a blast of force energy. Even the towering brutes with their immense size and bulk were pushed aside off their feet and into rocks, towers, and huts. But their bodies were incredibly durable their skin hardened, their blood flowed with the dark side of the force. As their forms collided with objects and bones broke, many stood even with mangled limbs. They experienced pain differently, endured it in a way that others couldn't.

The group stopped briefly while a slow moving column of slaves was brought across a crowded intersection of tunnels, the lead guard turning at the young ones questions "Were close to an entrance" He said resuming an expedited pace once the path was cleared. They continued to descend further and further beneath the surface, it was magnificent in a twisted way just how elaborate the hollow was and its paths, chambers, and structures honeycombed beneath the surface. Chants rose from a distant arena a distance away and beneath them in the hollow, their rhythmic cheers carried one name. If the group peered over the side they could see a distant fight with a lone graug facing down a huge krayt dragon in close quarters battle, his hulking frame swung a great axe in one hand and fired a cannon embedded into his other arm spewing fire like super heated blasts of napalm.

'Malgrog! Malgrog! Malgrog!'

Malgrog was the High Warlord of the Dark Legion, the God-Splitter, The Apex Predator among Apex Predators, Chief of Chiefs. He was so far above the rank and file that none of them were fit to even issue challenges to their great leader. The great butcher eclipsing fifteen feet tall and weighing in at what could only be assumed to be a ton hunted the greatest threats the galaxy ever knew, to prove his supremacy he would take on death itself. Malgrog jumped headfirst into the mouth of the krayt dragon swinging an axe in one hand and blasting fire down its gullet with his cannon, the beasts battle scarred form roared in pain and shuttered as blood flowed. To destroy the galaxies greatest threats it would only prove the legend of the God-Splitter that he was invulnerable in the eyes of his legion, absolutely untouchable.

Eventually the group closed in on a central core of solid rock and black iron a pair of massive statues made of some otherworldly stone flanked a jagged entrance like the mouth of some monster, a gate stood open and a portcullis seen receeded with its jagged spikes poking out like teeth. A war party stood in front of the gate in formation all wearing a uniform gold armor, the Horde Guard were handpicked to defend the citadel and they stood an impenetrable wall of towering shields. They blocked the open entrance with guns and blades, an entire arsenal complete with hulking war beasts and all traffic gave them a wide berth. The gates were opened in anticipation of their arrival and the Horde Guard simply stood at the ready, ready to beat or kill anyone who tried to approach without proper authorization. Once the lead centurion saw them he barked an order to the wall and they shifted, opening a large gap big enough to allow them into the massive citadel.

It was enormous.

The Cimmerian Citadel was made entirely of a reinforced black iron the foyer a great banner of the unified Dark Legion. The heat was blazing in the halls that were covered with ornate, dark, and macabre decoration of wicked blazing braziers, skulls, spikes, statues and disturbing symbols filled the walls. Unlike the rest of the hollow it wasn't nearly as loud through the citadel but sounds could be heard in every direction including growls, roars, and screams from shrieking slaves. The defenders were everywhere be it stationed at positions or walking down the halls, every beast wore armor and carried some form of weapon. They were led down the great halls and up stairwells before entering a series of lifts passing many barracks, storerooms, armories, beast pits, dungeons, and everything imaginable as they moved through wing after wing. Everything even the very walls were saturated with the dark side of the force, imbued with it "His Excellency is in the top levels of the citadel, it will take some time the citadels height reaches many miles into the sky."

One of the lifts carried something different.

A massive Warlord who towered over ten feet tall his skin pale almost gray and he wore a set of rigid dark armor, an impossibly large hammer slung over one shoulder. The beast gazed down at the each of them allowing it to fall on every single one as they entered the lift. The Crownguard didn't let any of them near him. The hulking brute turned to one of the Crownguard and spoke "Trek ek srak sram, sruka kikkumad bae uir koksar?" The deep voice was distrubing to the ears, the graugspeak unnatural and guttural. The Crownguard turned and spoke his annunciator translated "Traae ora. Faor srevk srak. Traae verr ba kaasems rek um sra suv raqark" Whatever they said the Warlord seemed to accept it and nodded.

 

[Adara Raxis]

Adara gave little attention to Bethy and her Grandfather. They would be alright! Just like Buir was alright. If Little Adara could do it, they must be great.

The force flowed. Bones cracked and bodies were flung across the road. Adara smiled up at the adults in a childish eagerness.

Waiting for praise. She did something special! She kept the naughty meat away from her sister, Papa and the Crownsguard. Maybe if she did it harder next time, [member="Darth Prazutis"] would smile.

Adara stopped in the road to watch Malgrog fight a dragon. Two beasts in equal dangers. One day, she thought... one day even Malgrog would be proud of the little Mandalorian princess.

Where Adara was living in her infantile fantasy, the road was as real as Girak’s greying hair. He held [member="Beth Cadera"] as close as he could, setting an aura of calm around their tightly compacted presence. The slaves went by, so broken none could look up into their betters’ faces.

Girak was a holy man, he did the will of the Gods, and the Gods decreed these were lesser creatures, unworthy and unfit for more than servitude and sport. The misery tugged at him, at the Mandalorian sentiments filling Yasha’s head and mind. It was fine to say all were free, when those whose release were secured were thankful and willing to set their shoulders to the work.

But the whip was the only true bulwark, wasn’t it?

The maw swallowed them whole. A relief stole Girak at the relative peace of the citadel, singing with the dark strokes of the Force’s imperialistic Side. He could breathe here. Release Bethany’s shoulder and instead hold her hand. Adara shivered in what Girak could only equate with a feeling of sedate fullness, the calm after a resplendent and overindulgent meal. Girak took Adara’s hand and held her close to his side.

“Why’re you holding so tight, Papa? Uncle Prazamussus is waiting.” Adara eyed the warlord in the lift with a nonchalant glance. He must’ve been the same kind of important many adults thought they were, but only few had right to be. Tugging at her sister’s hand, Adara kissed Beth’s palm with a smile.

“Cupcakes, Bethy. It’s all about the cupcakes. You’ll see.” Bethy needed such looking after.

 

[Gaia Sunaris Cadera]

Bethany was increasingly regretting her decision to come. Why had she decided to, again? How had she convinced herself this would somehow help her? From the Dark Angel in her dream, to the creepy sounds in the halls as she tried to reach the dying person… Really, how could this have helped her?

No. She was strong, in her own way. Young, sure, but strong. She kept herself alive for 11 years, essentially alone. This would just be another walk in the park, another walk… In-between terrifying monsters that chose to rip each other apart instead of trying to increase their well-being. Did they even want better lives? No, this was… Their nature.

She watched as the victim of [member="Adara Raxis"] scream flew into objects, and Beth could see the broken bones – some jutting out of the skin. Others, clearly mangled. In some ways, she felt herself hardening. “Thanks, Sweet Pea,” she said with a weak smile to her little sister. In a way, she was envious of her sister. This didn’t bother her. Her eyes didn’t sting, or her nose and skin tingle with irritation.
Beth sighed in relief – they were close to the entrance. An accidental peak across the ledge was met with regret. This Malgrog, she could only assume, nearly dived into the mouth of yet another monster. He won the fight, and it looked pretty easy.

Her eyes returned to the path ahead. She stared at the large statues on each side, and the hellish flames that burned through the entrance. “Walking into the belly of the beast,” she muttered to herself in disgust. But with that, the small family entered into the citadel – finally. [member="Darth Prazutis"] was not a very good host, she decided. Beth held her Papa’s hand tightly. This was easier to handle. Her skin didn’t burn, her eyes finally beginning to adjust and not be red from tears.

Beth mentally groaned when they said it would take time to get to the high levels, where Prazutis was. “Of course,” she muttered under her breath. Oooof course. She gave a smile to Adara, who mentioned something about cupcakes. “I can’t wait, Adara. I’m sure they’re delicious.”

Upon stepping on the lift with the small group, she stared back into the eyes of the monster that stood in front of them. Were these genetically engineered? Sith Spawn? Or were these actual… People? He spoke, the Crownguard spoke, and Beth brought her stare to right in front of her.

 

[Darth Prazutis]

A feeling of anticipation and anxiety permeated through the walls of the citadel latching on to the likes of the newcomers who climbed ever higher. It was the feeling of a coming maelstrom on the horizon a cataclysm of darkness that congealed on the highest levels of the citadel, it throbbed like the beating of a heart. The higher the lift climbed it felt like they dived further down into an impossible ocean with a crushing pressure on every inch of the body, it felt like the darkness held everything in a vice grip that made it tough to breath let alone walk forward. If any light managed to endure through the ruination of Cazador it quickly died on the climb up towards the pinnacle. The raw presence of the void itself infested every ounce of these chambers.

Whispers came.

Silent words spoken that crept into their minds with a touch of madness it felt they were listening to something that spoke in the very lift, but just as one focused on them they were gone. They gently clawed at the fringes of the mind like the scratching of claws, their words maddening that tugged at their very sanity while all hope died around them. If the Crownguard or the Warlord were effected by it they didn't show any semblance of it, perhaps it was their birth in darkness and constant presence in it? They seemed to welcome the darkness around them as a home, wear it like a cloak. Quite suddenly the lift stopped allowing the newcomers to realize that their grasp of time seemed to slip as they climbed deeper into the abyss. The hulking Warlord looked them over and grunted before walking out into the hall, the lift shutting and moving once more. "Were here" One of the crownguard said just as the lift stopped once more. The room opened up into a great audience hall where newcomers would wait before entering the throne room. The room was lit by many braziers and glowing fires it was just enough to see while creating a realm of shadow, for the graug could see in the dark they had no need for true light.

The epicenter of all the darkness was sitting right in front of them behind a pair of great double doors inlaid with wicked carvings and depictions, the walls held vile murals while imposing statues carved out of black iron sat on the fringes of the great chamber. All doors were flanked by pairs of guards while the main door had a wall of four, all of which were not graug but Crownguard. Many other figures stood in the open area however. A gathering of vile men and women of all races and sizes, they wore a mix of elaborate robes and outfits clad in religious symbols and markings each of varying design. Any exposed skin was covered in tattoos, wicked ritual scars or branding. Each and every one of them were touched by the Lord of Lies cosmic darkness, as the living embodiment of the dark side of the force. They spoke in hushed whisper and prayer while leaders easily distinguished from the masses by their dark amulets and sith artifacts spoke their words surged through the death choked air, their very speech was intoxicating and euphoric. While many held profane idols carved from ivory and unnaturally dark rock. The symbol of a great lidless eye was quite prevalent in their aesthetic, especially their religious symbols and idols. These Apostles were the ones who faced the immense darkness and thrived instead of falling to the madness. They were individuals of the deepest levels of twisted depravity. They were immune to the call of the ether All were touched by their gods cosmic darkness in some way and it changed them forever their flesh paling, some clad in these robes had mutations being hairless, or even as severe as being eyeless.

This was the price they were willing to pay in service to their lord and master, their god, for it was he who showed them the truth of the universe, and he alone who harnessed the darkness that hid behind the curtain of reality. The Prazutis Shatunja. Toil they did on heeding the gospel and blessing artifacts passed through one another, cracked nails traced lines with blood on the dark matererial forming complex patterns. And toiled they did on blessing the artifacts they passed among one another, cracked nails tracing lines with blood on the mysterious items as their vile hands passed over they glowed. The gospel was maddening it threatened to pull all in and enthrall them with its tantilizing grip. Their wills were surprisingly resilient against the primordial madness, whether that was will alone or that it pulsed through their veins remained to be seen. The Crownguard guided them forward and stopped in front of the door guards, who stepped aside for the three. As the group looked back three of their escort were already gone while only one remained gesturing towards the door "His Majesty awaits." He said.

Once they were ready the doors parted seemingly by themselves to a room completely hidden in what appeared to be black cloud. As they crossed the threshold what they could see of the 'throne room' bent and contorted in unnatural ways the room was impossibly large. It was so covered in black smog that they couldn't see inches in front of them and quickly they were separated. It seemed the reality itself was bending and contorting to the whim of some unseen force that altered the very environment, the smog cleared and the world had seemingly changed for everyone.

Girak and [member="Adara Raxis"]

They entered into a massive throne room in every sense of the word bathed in deep shadow the walls a deep black metal. A long walkway was flanked by pairs of equally spaced energy braziers glowing with a cackling purple entropic fire on the ground and ones that hung above in the exact same place above floating columns. There were rows of elaborate columns behind the braziers spaced further apart inlaid with glowing runes and strands of glowing dark energy, each one bearing a brightly glowing crimson crystal atop them. For all the light none of it seemed to truly brighten up the room, behind the crystals many archways could be seen. A massive black iron throne sat against the far wall on a great raised dais it was so large, so great they had to look up at the figure sitting on top of it. The seat itself was impossibly large too big for any human to sit in, but it perfectly fit the giant that now sat atop it.

The figure sitting atop the thrones face could not be seen except for a pair of brighly glowing molten orbs with dark sclera that pierced the darkness, his body clad in elaborate dark robes glowing with the power of the dark side. A pair of massive tabards flanked either side of the throne symbolizing the Sith Empire, while one positioned directly above the throne that was above them, and larger held the Eye of Solomon, House Zambrano. The figures aura of supreme divinity swept through the chamber, utterly commanding the entire room and the beating heart of all the darkness. Darth Prazutis, Shadow Hand of the Sith Empire, Supreme Commander of the Sith-Imperial Military, Twin Sovereign of the Arch-Kingdom of the Pacanth Reach, King of Thule, Warlord of Rattatak, a deified God of the Epicanthix.

A pair of eyes swept over them that seemed to pierce through to their very souls, a commanding gaze his voice spoke deep and loud, booming through every inch of the chamber "Welcome to Cazador. Adara my dear it has been too long. So close to your birthday I have many surprises for you child." Prazutis said holding his hands out. He saw her quite often over the past five years orchestrating the grooming of a future Sith disciple in complete secrecy. Now so close to her birthday there would be many surprises ahead for her. It appeared as if Beth Cadera was still alongside them, it appeared that way. As he spoke to her a set of figures emerged from the sides of the chamber holding a variety of items.

[member="Beth Cadera"]

As the smog lifted she found herself alone in yet another dark chamber clouded with shadow that manifested in more hazy black clouds that sat in patches, the very ground rolled with a low rolling darkness on the ground. A thick black ichor like hardened chitin was everywhere, it was toxic and foul smelling, it mutated and sat in stalks that rose toward the roof or concealed into solid hanging strands from the ceiling that formed twisted unnatural structures. It felt as if a thousand eyes peered from this evil, this madness as unnatural creatures moved through the darkness and fast speeds. She could see eyes dozens, hundreds, maybe even more that glowed through the darkness to stare at her. The room opened up to a great pool of the same black ichor except it was thick, moving like searing hot, bubbling tar. Quite suddenly the doors behind her seemed to disappear. The darkness was so powerful here it was nauseating and any figure she caught glimpse of appeared like a demon dragged from the deepest, most depraved nightmare.

Then he emerged.

A Dark Titan rose slowly out of the black tar his entire body covered in a thick chitin even his hair was coiled in long chitinlike strands, great wings of dark bone cut from his back while his eyes glowed a deep molten orange with deep black sclera peered out at her. He pointed toward her with a clawed finger while he lowered to the ground just in front of her, towering over the woman "There is nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, and no one to hear you scream. Heed my words young one." The Lord of Lies said pausing as he stopped right in front of her looking her over. He walked around her slowly while demons from the dark slowly revealed themselves. They were many different shapes and sizes some clad in chitin while others had slimy black skin. All were wicked shapes and sizes that seemed to defy the laws of reality and mother nature, demons from the great beyond, void spawned cosmic horrors that gathered around him, never standing in his way. Some were the size of small birds while others taller than castle towers and even the greatest armored walkers. Their will bent to his design. "Your life has changed. Through the actions of others far beyond your control out of the thousands of futures I can see for you, your path has diverged from where it once was. I saw your promising future laid out before me, the places you would go and the person you would become. It was promising, good and pure, I am sorry child but that is no longer possible. You are not strong enough to command your own destiny but I am, and from the actions of others you have become a casualty of a higher form of cosmic war so far beyond your understanding your path has changed, what once was is now lost. In time you will find a new home in my darkness, you will victimize this galaxy in my name. It is my whispers that haunt your dreams, you will join my hive. It is unfortunate child but you are destined only for one path now, and I will guide your fall." The Lord of Lies said as he continued to slowly walk around her, a clawed talon tracing across her shoulder blaces while the maddening whispers and dreams crept back into her mind. Once more he stopped in front of her a small floating orb, a dab of black ichor floating it bubbled and surged, the very liquid alive with pure dark energy and void stuffs. "You will not remember anything from this meeting, you will not understand what has happened. But I will give you a seed of the void, a sapling to grow and thrive within to change your very essence down to the last atom, to grow roots in your very soul. I must say child it will all get much worse the nightmares, the whispers, they will remain with you. The harder you resist it the worse it will hurt, and the pain will be excruciating. It will attack the light within you until it withers and dies forever. Your perception on the world may change, your conscience twisted with its cold embrace. It will grow until you are ready and it will guide you to the final stages of your transformation, where I will be waiting to finish it and guide you down the path of power." He held out his hand and offered the ichor to her.

 

[Adara Raxis]

The journey was a long way. In the quiet of the elevator, Yasha’s oldest born could better be heard for the labouring of her lungs. The flush to her cheeks.

“How much farther, Papa?” Adara leaned against her great-grandfather’s side, until he swooped and picked the sickly child into his arm. She rode on his hip, eyes peering at all the mysteries of her dear secretive, but doting uncle. Evil uncanny appeared round, as [member="Beth Cadera"], Girak and Adara made their way. Raising her dainty fingers at the door, Adara smiled through flushed cheeks, head propped on Girak’s shoulders.

“Byyye Wembley. I liked you.” The final guard. A rite of their passage, they may never see again. On Girak walked into the black pitch, the purple fire. Beth on his right, Adara held against his left. Each abomination sang to the worshipper of Nereus. This was the hymn of new gods, of self-made monarchs of divinity, both decrepit and terrible in their armageddon. The same domination and pressure of the God of the Sun devoured that sun, for purple fire and beings warped of their own once-forms. Each voice chilled and awed the man, who squeezed Beth’s hand and whispered comforts to her. Adara seemed in passive fascination, a princess in witness of what once could be hers.

A once and future goddess of the deep.

Perhaps that thought began it. The inkling of a foresight built upon Adara’s diminutive shoulders and lazily curling raven hair. Girak’s presence in the Force fluctuated as the man, who once refused to leave Nereus’ temple inhaled the incense of [member="Darth Prazutis"]…

… and saw.

And held tighter the child in his arms, who played with his lapel as her cold cheek pressed on his shoulder. He let go of Bethany’s hand only a moment, or he thought, only a few seconds to shift Adara.

“Adara, eat. These singers, their souls will never go out for you. No good to be half exhausted before you see your Uncle, eh?” He kissed her forehead, as the excitable but frail child peeked with black eyes, ruby red irises shimmering in the dim light. Invisible tendrils filtered around her, alighting upon the singers, the dark horrors. She fed upon them, until the flush to her cheeks was a healthy rose and her hands clenched instead of touched upon her great-grandfather’s clothing.

He kissed her hair, and as they came to the Sovereign of the Arch-Kingdom of the Pacanth Reach, Girak set her feet to the ground.

“Uncle Prazammussus!!!” Partially renewed, Adara scampered to her ‘Uncle Prazamussus’ and hopped up to clamber and give him as large a hug as her tiny arms could muster.

“We made it! It was a long way, Uncle Braxus! But I did it! Only had to stop a little. I missed you so much. Eeee! You remembered my birthday!!” The giggling child tossed her arms round his neck, hanging off it until she could plunk down to sit on his knee. She panted from her scrambling run, white teeth peeking from grinning lips.

“I promised there would be cupcakes. Birthdays have cupcakes, right? And frosting? You’ll eat a cupcake with me, won’t you? Papa, you will too right? Bethy? Oh! And Wembley and Gobo were nice to us. I liked them the best of the Crownguard today. Did you get my last holopicture? The one with the battle and the swinging sword? I hope I got the colours right. You really remembered my birthday... Unckle Braxus? That was a loooong walk.”

Sunshine, in a den of iniquity and evil. Adara banished terror from her mind, as if it were a fuel which never touched her consciousness, instead feeding the sustenance of her potentially divine power.

 

[Gaia Sunaris Cadera]

Did she hear something? Beth inhaled and exhaled in some futile attempt to calm her nerves. The lingering monster next to her. Her hand squeezing tighter on Papa’s hand. She needed out, not to go farther into the belly of these beasts. Her instincts screamed to run. But, she had no where to run to. She was trapped in hell.

Beth tried to shield her mind – as in some attempt to keep the whispers out of her mind. Beth let out a small scream as the lift came to a quick stop. Did it really have to stop that fast? And then it began… Before stopping once more. The second time, though, the Crownguard ordered them off the lift and into an audience hall. Beth carefully stepped off the lift as she examined the large, wide room. It was so dark – literally and figuratively. She could feel the seeping of evil from each side of the wall.

In truth, she felt like a very small match in a very dark room. Many people seemed to be working together in some form of religious ceremony. The Zambrano symbol was literally everywhere. Beth glanced to Girak with concern. The doors opened – but the smog was thick, almost impossible to see through. How in the Gods would they be able to find where they needed to go? Sadly, they had no choice but to enter.

Somehow, she felt her hand disconnect from Girak’s. Panic ensued as she glanced around – the smog slowly lifting. “Papa? Girak! Adara?” Anxiety built inside her stomach as she stopped moving and tried for the door, but it never got close. "Help me! Someone..." a scream emitted from Beth's voice as she ran towards the door. Her hope vanished as the door disappeared from view. What kind of trickery was this? Her eyes began to water, fear streaming through her very being. Black ichor seemed to have encased everything around her. She was trapped in some sick, foul smelling hell.

The only light around her was inside herself and that was not a very comforting thought. She could barely breath in the midst of the darkness, spiritually and physically.

[member="Darth Prazutis"] came out of the ichor then. Beth’s green eyes locked onto molten orange orbs that only showed how much of a demon he was. She tried to stay strong, to stand up to him. She stood tall despite the tears that continued to escape her eyes, slowly dripping down her cheek before falling to disappear into the ichor. Demons of unnatural varieties seemed to be revealing themselves as the Lord of Lies terrorized her.

Paralyzed by fear and the dark, Beth said nothing as he spoke. He would never command her destiny – only she could… Right. She swallowed as she tried to breath as she felt his talon trace across her shoulder blades. Her body spiked with goosebumps and long Elven ears pulled fully back, almost like a cat that was trapped in a corner. “I-I will never hurt someone for you. The light will win... Somehow, it will...” she muttered between gasps of tears. Nonetheless, the ichor was held in his hand. She could see it and the realization of what was happening caused the greatest panic in her heart. He was going to poison her, poison her to the Dark Side. Beth shook her head, but she felt as if she was being controlled. Forced. As a delicate hand reached to the ichor, grabbed it, and despite the tears that flowed drank the disgusting liquid.


Moments later, Beth was holding Papa’s hand tightly still and [member="Adara Raxis"] had climbed ‘Uncle Prazamussus’. Beth felt disoriented and nauseaus. Had she blacked out? No, she just needed to get out of here. As soon as possible. She squeezed Girak’s hand in some type of subconscious consolation – he was there. She said nothing to the Lord of Lies, though. She simply gave a smile to Adara asked to eat cupcakes. “Of course, we'll eat cupcakes.” Could she really stand eating a cupcake? She felt mostly like she was about to vomit…