War-Torn | Dantooine (open to Sith & Jedi)

[Minka Vosh]

((I'm new to all this, so bear with me!))

Location: Dantooine, shortly after the Sith Empire conquered.​

"You came all the way out here for a stupid necklace?" The young boy prattled on, climbing and sliding over rocks several paces ahead. Surprisingly nimble, for the state he was in. One sleeve was torn free, but if the bloodied arm beneath caused him any pain, he didn't fuss. For two kilometers he'd followed her. Now, he was the one leading. On more than one occasion, she considered changing course. Letting him ramble and climb through the rocky forest alone, while she secretly drifted back in the direction she knew her ship to be. For some reason, she didn't...

"I wouldn't expect you to understand it's value." She responded mildly, in a sweet voice that contrasted her appearance. Gaze swept over the dense, misty canopy above, while her senses tracked the presence behind them. Too distant to see, but they were being followed, though she couldn't tell by what.

It wasn't long ago the Sith Empire claimed the planet. Naturally, it had been a violent undertaking. She didn't need to be part of the battle itself to know. Though she had no desire to remain within their territory, she couldn't help but visit in hopes of reclaiming what her fallen, vile lunatic of a Master had lost here in the past--and it had paid off. She would not linger for long. In fact, she could simply leave now, and she should...before someone detected her.

"I know you're one of them. Your eyes don't look like theirs, but I can tell." The look he shoot back at her from over his shoulder with his dirt-smudged face was skeptical, almost spiteful. Minka glanced down at him with a vacant sort of indifference. Like an observing insect, seemingly hollow and without expression.

"Just like you know where your father is?" She countered curiously.

The discomfort and confusion lit up his face briefly. Eyebrows knitting and muscles twitching with emotions he had no time to process. Then, he curled his lip, and returned to boldly marching through the dim forest ahead. Moving as if he hadn't recently gambled his life by tumbling over a slippery ledge. Such a brave boy, and she guessed him to be still within the single digits. Perhaps 8 years. He wouldn't last long out here, alone. "I'll find him!"

He wouldn't...but Minka had no desire to tell him so. The boy would probably refuse to believe her anyway, but she found his father not too far from the ruined temple she had investigated. Well, the remains of his clothing, which had seemed to match the boy's description. Likely just another casualty of war.

"It's not much farther. You can see all the buildings once we get out of the trees. We live on the edge of a lake, but now it's all dirty because one of your ships crashed into it." Snapping his head back, he gave her another wary once-over. "But we don't have anything you can take, so..."

Such a cheeky one. The Zabrak smiled faintly to herself, choosing not to respond as her dark robes sifted over the mossy roots and stones. She would see for herself what his little village possessed, though she suspected he was right. Then again, the only thing she wanted now was to get off this planet. So why was she still here?

Cedric Grayson

 

[STaCLO]

Location: Dantooine
​

STaCLO came and went to many planets as he pleased. Concealing himself in a fully body suit to hide his droid body from onlookers who'd think to take advantage of a lone droid. Recently he'd come out of his "hermitage" to once again reexplore some of the galaxy and what it had to offer. Often delving deep into the many woodlands and wildernesses of the galaxy. Ironically finding much peace among the vegetation of the worlds he visited.

However, he'd heard of wars in the north of the galaxy. Dantooine being one of the most recent victims of such things. From what he knew it was two empires going at it in some sort of imperial war. Quite a shame he felt, and all for what? It seemed as though the innocent of the galaxy and the wild life were always the one's truly given the greatest injustice.

This is part of why he came. To see first hand the issues brought on by such conflicts. But given his history with the CIS, the old CIS from the clone wars it was no wander it was all too familiar. He could even recall there being a great battle on this very planet all those centuries ago. Perhaps he was walking on the very grounds that many of his droid brothers were laid to waste on?

Nonetheless STaCLO trudged on through the grasslands of the planet. Seeing a possible village off in the distance to pass boy or avoid. Only time will tell.

 

[Darth Petrichor]

Petrichor walked among the trees and stones of Dantooine in silence. There was an uncomfortable silence within the forest, as if a general hush had befallen the forest floor. He left the Acheron not far from here. He took a minute to take in his surroundings. Reaching out through the Force, he could sense many things. The wind, the water, the pain... yes, so much pain. How many worlds had suffered? How many people were struck with tragedy in the wake of the "glorious" Sith Empire? Had the Sith really fallen so deep into this crusade? Petrichor refused to linger on the thought. With his two pet tu'kata Sutta and Taral, he journeyed deeper into the wood.

Long had his days been away from the greater galaxy. Long had he spent time in exile, pondering on what to do next. No longer. His days away had been beneficial, true, but it was time... time to once again reveal himself. It was time to finally rejoin the conversation. He was no longer going to sit idly by and watch the Sith continue to destroy themselves.

He had to see the destruction firsthand. He had to feel the full extent of the damage that the Sith had caused. In order to begin to move, he first had to fully assess the state of things. So, with this in mind, he walked, focusing his energy on the presence he sensed in the distance.

 

[Minka Vosh]

The presence she detected far in the distance began to bleed. What once seemed like a single, pinpointed lifeforce stretched along the horizon, like the ridge of a building tsunami. And like a tsunami, it was moving faster than them. Nothing like a ship, or even a speeder bike, but faster than a human could naturally sprint. In front of her, the boy chattered some more. For someone who was openly skeptical of her at best, and hostile at worst, he sure had a lot he wanted to share.

"--and the tree split in half! Well, sort of, there was a big crack. My dad's really strong. He said the Jedi--"

"Walk faster."

The boy paused at the base of a small hill he'd slid down, twin lines of mud and disturbed moss trailing in his wake. He stared up in confusion at the strange-looking horned woman who emerged from the trees quietly above him. She paused when he did, at the top of the hill, but she didn't return his gaze. Swiveling his head around, he tried to find what she was so intently looking at, but saw only the pillars of damp, cool trees.

"I'm walking faster than you!" He called up to her defensively, and then turned to continue leading the way home. Though he began moving even faster without realizing, as if this was some sort of challenge. "Anyway, it's just up here."

Moments later, the boy burst from the tree-line and into the grassland that surrounded their town. By then he was running, though he had no idea why. Compelled by reasons beyond his understanding. There was a grin on his dirty face, looking like he'd won a race in spite of his painful injuries. He stopped several meters from the forest's edge and looked back, the tall blades of grass stretching high around him like a miniature forest in itself, not quite past his head. The creepy woman was gone.

A gentle breeze hissed through the grass, thin blades swaying around him in waves. The afternoon sun was a warm bath, compared to the endless, misty shade of the forest. Looking back from the bright field, the tangle of dark trees felt ominous. A precipice to secrets and hidden dangers. Minutes ago, he'd been bounding through the pathless maze as if he owned the place, yet now, there was a cold grip pulling down in his gut.

Between the lapses in hissing grass, quiet snarls and barks drifted through. Indistinct at first, they quickly grew louder and harsher. Like a pack of wild beasts that snapped and quarreled savagely with one another as they rushed forth. When the cacophony drew close enough to sound as if it would burst through the tree-line, it fell to silence.

A wisp of black darted through the grass, catching in his periphery. Too dark to be a simple shadow, it was more akin to the very absence of light. It sifted like smoke, too fast for him to register what it even was, and he nearly fell over when Minka seemed to blink into existence at his side. The icy tension pulling his nerves taut had gone unnoticed until his panicked, clumsy jerk, and he stared up at her as if she'd grown a second head.

"Whatever you see, whatever you hear...you will be still. There is nothing to fear." The sing-song voice reverberated pleasantly in his mind, from lips that never moved. From a woman who wasn't even there, though he'd never recognize the illusion.

The apprehensive stare aimed at her slowly melted into vacancy, and then calm acceptance. With it, the tension in his limbs vanished, and a sense of careless indifference washed over the boy. When the first row of mangy-looking Mochirsa stepped from the pillars of trees, standing taller than the average man and covered in blood both fresh and dried, he felt nothing.

The seemingly forgotten or discarded victims infected and transformed during the recent fight for claim over the planet. The Mochirsa were lead by a Sith Lord during the battle, and ruthlessly killed anyone who stood in their way. Those who put up an impressive enough fight were left alive however, to change into one of their own. This was a band of leaderless savages, left to rise in the aftermath of disaster, with only tattered scraps of clothing and armor left on their bodies. They were far less organized, but no less vicious, and driven by an insatiable bloodlust.

STaCLO Darth Petrichor Cedric Grayson

 

[Cedric Grayson]

The sweet smell of carrion was nearly overwhelming as he muscled his way through the muddy wastes that had once been farmland. The very earth itself had been permanently scarred by the failed attempt to liberate Dantooine, and the dozens of bodies that decorated the shell-blasted landscape were so fresh as to not have even been looted by scavengers. A few beasts gnawed on the corpses, but there had been no graverobbers yet. It had been some time since the conflict - the exile could only surmise that some kind of superstition kept the locals from looting, or perhaps everyone that would have gone looking for trinkets now lay with the rest of the bodies.

It wasn't his first battlefield, not by a long shot, and it most certainly would not be his last. Even still, there was nothing quite so devastating as the aftermath of a war. The only thing more depressing than walking the fields of a victory was to walk in that of a loss, or at least that was what his father had so often told him during his lessons.

To touch upon the face of the empyrean here was to embrace agony in itself, and yet it was something he needed to do. He could not step into the conflict once again if he did not: could not lead men and women into the arms of death if he did not understand what that entailed. Juniper Jett had told him he needed to rise above his cowardice, and so he would. This, like so many others, was just another step upon the path.

The exile reached up to draw back his cowl, and set his gaze up toward the heavens. The sun beat down warmly upon his pale face, but its comfort was quickly ruined by the scent of decaying bodies. His eyes drifted shut, and for the first time since setting foot upon Dantooine, Cedric opened himself to the Force.

He heard the sounds before anything else. The screams of mortal beings caught in an equally mortal conflict thundered in his ears. He felt the all consuming terror of a New Imperial soldier as his position was overrun, and any hope of escape was utterly obliterated: the cold satisfaction a Sith general experienced as he watched an enemy position wiped clean off the face of Dantooine in an artillery barrage, the cocktail of misery and animalistic hatred that enraptured a local villager as her husband's head was cut clean from his body by a mass of flying shrapnel.

This was war. This was death. This had ever been his realm.

"Enough," he whispered to himself as he recoiled from its many horrors. His blood thundered in his ears, his heart beating a tattoo that nearly threatened to have it jump clear from his chest. It had been many months since he had exposed himself to the chaos of conflict, and it nearly struck him down. Nearly. To feel such death, to understand such pain, it was beyond most Jedi. It would have destroyed them. But not him. Never him.


The exile cast one wayward glance over the mounds of rotting bodies before continuing onward. There was life up ahead, and whomever it was, be they Sith, New Imperials, or locals, Cedric intended to hear their tale.

Darth Petrichor , STaCLO , Minka Vosh

 

[Darth Petrichor]

Petrichor continued forth with his pets. The tuk'ata seemed to constantly scan the surrounding area as they moved on. He hadn't taken them away from the academy in some time, which caused them to feel more on edge than usual. He never liked spending time away from his faithful companions, but having them attracts attention, and the last thing that Petrichor needed was unwanted attention.

As they journeyed on, Sutta and Taral froze in place, sniffing the air around them. Petrichor stopped as well, reaching out through the Force. At first, what he mostly found was emptiness. Almost as if a void had been left in the wake of countless battles. An endless chasm of death that reached across a large portion of the planet. So, this was the work of the Sith. This was their legacy. The very thought of it made him feel sick. Then, as he lingered within the Force, something caught his attention. Small flickering lights of energy that he could feel through the Force seemed to barely permeate the endless abyss he had found. Someone was near.

He turned to Sutta and Taral, speaking to them in the Sith tongue.

"Calm, my friends. Calm."

The two Tuk'ata began to loosen up as he spoke. And yet, they never fully let their guard down, ever watchful for any potential threats to their master. Petrichor walked up beside them as he continued.

"We are not alone..."

Minka Vosh STaCLO Cedric Grayson

 

[Minka Vosh]

The row of Mochirsa crept slowly from the shadows, melting through the trees and into the field. The gruesome injuries, the shredded remains of a former, nobler life hanging from their mutated bodies, the fanged snarls as their bloody maws lifted and sniffed suspiciously at the air...all of it was laid bare under the stark rays of the sun. The tsunami of death was paused. Lingering at the edge, as if they could sense something was off. That an unseen threat loomed its presence around them.

Some of them tilted their matted heads in different directions. Pinpointing more life in the distance. One notable presence came from deep within the forest, with two beastial followers themselves, and the other beyond the fields of untouched grains and grasses. There were many more lifeforms in the area, specifically within the small farming town itself, but those two in particular shown like a beacon. Not because these creatures were Force sensitive, but because their sense of smell was impeccable, and these two targets stood out. Both of them were drawing closer as well, but the pack of beasts hesitated.

Then there was the third, and closest. Mere meters away, a boy stood gazing with surprising calm back at them. The blood from his numerous, though shallow, wounds wafted to them like the sweetest perfume. Luring them forward. Inviting them to rip him to pieces. The perfect bait...

They could see nothing else, but they could indeed sense it. Smell it. Something was among them that they couldn't find, and it made them wary. Growls and sharp barks of frustration interrupted the silence. Eventually, their impatience would wear them down.

One of them broke free, resuming its sprint toward the child, and slowly, others followed suit. Not all of them raced for the same prize, however. Others bounded at an alarmingly quick pace through the sea of grass towards the town beyond. Before long, more emerged behind, replacing the gaps with some who wielded weapons. About a dozen could bee seen.

The boy stood motionless as the ground thundered to life around him. He stared into the enraged, bronze eyes of the seven-foot creature barreling into him with a look of acceptance, trapped in the most pleasant disassociation. Then, with a hum and flash of red and white light, Minka snapped back into existence like a flicker of lightning breaking the fabric of reality. Just long enough for her lightsaber to bisect the beast through its midsection, and then she was gone.

She'd always been there, of course. The illusion she wove spread like an invisible net several meters, with the child at its center. The Mochirsa could faintly smell her, but detect her no other way until the illusion faltered for one reason or another. A trick that was relatively easy to hold, at least for a limited time, on beings that were not Force sensitive. Of course, she couldn't block all of their senses indefinitely, but it gave her the upper hand that she wanted.

Darth Petrichor Cedric Grayson

 

[Cedric Grayson]

The moments that followed his immersion were certainly not pleasant, but they would surely be so in comparison to the uglyness Cedric felt on the horizon. The threads that bound him to the greater weave of the universe tugged him forward, and his legs moved as if of their own accord. He had come to see the will of the Force so acutely in places such as this that he could offer no protest. He was as much in tune to the Living Force as he was its tool, and perhaps according to some, its slave.

He reached out into the empyrean as it drew him forward. The waters of the Great Ocean were already turbulent and bloodied here, but he felt the surge of another storm just on the horizon. The chaos of the war had left wounds on Dantooine, and those wounds had not yet healed. There were still maggots crawling through them, and more blood was yet to be spilled.

Understanding the violence had been his reason for coming here, but it seemed he was to partake in it as much as he might learn from it.

The smell of carrion gave way to something far nastier as he drew near the source of the turbulence. It reminded him of the bush apes that had stalked him during his youth in Ession's wilds. The beasts had the intelligence of small children, and a cruelty that had almost led him to decreeing an extermination of their local population for the public's safety. You always smelled them before you saw them; their unwashed hides foretold of their coming for miles. whatever the source of this turbulence was, it carried a similar scent, and as Cedric drew closer and picked up on their consciousnesses, similar minds.

He did not see the boy, nor did he make out the village. He only saw loping beasts lurching through the grass, and a flash of crimson light. One of the beasts fell in two as it disappeared, and Cedric instinctively reached for his own weapon.

Bogan's Lament roared as it was drawn from its sheathe. The overtuned emitter produced a sound more akin to a starship's engines than it did the calming hum of a lightsaber, and the loud noise drew several of the beasts toward him almost immediately. Cedric reached out with his free hand toward the earth below, and crushed a large ball of stone and dirt into a ball with invisible telekinetic tendrils. He threw his hand like a fist toward one of the beasts, and the ball rocketed forward, the monster yelping loudly and briefly as its torso was crushed beneath the mass of earth.

"Sithspawn," Cedric hissed. "Those degenerates can never seem to clean up after themselves." He ducked beneath a clawed fist that passed right through where he'd just been standing. The exile stepped around the clumsy creature's second strike, and ran it through the leg as he stepped around its back. The monster howled in pain, and its teeth gnashed a a hair or so above Cedric's face. The Jedi Master leaned back just in time to evade what would have been a grisly death, and drove his blade upward. The monster squealed for a moment before its vocal cords were cut clean as the blade sliced through flesh and bone to sever its head.

The Mochirsa's body collapsed back into the grasses with a dull thud. Others approached him, and the Jedi readied his weapon to defend himself.

STaCLO , Darth Petrichor , Minka Vosh

 

[Darth Petrichor]

There was a sudden shift in the air. The Force seemed to fluctuate as light and dark crashed against each other. Petrichor found himself picking up speed, his pets close behind. The foul air only grew more putrid as they pushed forward. He recognized the scent immediately...

Sithspawn.

Though a Sith himself, Petrichor never had a taste for these beasts. Sutta and Taral may have been the byproduct of centuries of Sith tampering, but they were of a different sort. Tuk'ata had an elegance to them; a level of majesty largely lost to the Sith of today. Not like these creatures. These new Sithspawn were sloppy and barbaric... much like the Sith had become.

Eventually, Petrichor came to a stop. He arrived just in time to see the second Morchirsa drop. A stranger was being surrounded by the others. It didn't take long for Petrichor to find that this stranger was the source of the light.

A Jedi, here? Petrichor was unsure what to make of it. Not that he had any business being here either. After all, many of his Sith brethren would wish him dead as if he were a Jedi himself. He was hesitant to assist the stranger at first. As far as he knew, the man might take him as an enemy the instant he sees his blades, or his pets for that matter. That being said, Petrichor's disdain for the Sithspawn overrode whatever reservations he had. Light or dark, friend or foe, no one deserved such a death.

Sutta and Taral waited patiently behind him, ready to strike at a moment's notice. He looked back to them as he spoke.

"Not now, my friends. I need you to be my eyes. If these beasts have masters, they can't be far off. Stay back, and call to me at the first sign."

The tuk'ata gave him a look of skepticism. They weren't to be trifled with in a fight, but Petrichor needed them to stay out of this. His pets eventually conceded, taking positions that would allow them to properly scan the area. Petrichor turned his attention back to the Morchirsa. It was time to go to work.

Drawing his lightsabers, Petrichor reached out to the Force. He picked out two of the Sithspawn, pulled back, and leapt forward with great speed. As he flew toward his targets, Petrichor let out a violent scream, channeling all of the darkness he could muster. He spun through the air, creating a deadly wheel of energy and slashing sabers. As he passed his targets, his blades cut through their torsos, bisecting them. Petrichor landed close to the stranger as the two Morchirsa fell to the ground. Taking a defensive stance, he scanned the rest of the pack as they approached.

"It seems you've picked a less than ideal day to be out for a stroll, Jedi."

---

STaCLO Minka Vosh Cedric Grayson

 

[Minka Vosh]

Though her primary focus had been on cloaking herself, she had felt the emergence of new life. Multiple signatures creeping closer to her. She had no idea who or what they were, with her attention on the small hoard of Mochirsa, but by the time Darth Petrichor and Cedric joined the battle, she had a very clear taste of what she was up against. The Force was strong with both of them, and they blazed like twin stars in dead space. Seemingly opposite in nature, yet fighting a common enemy. The same enemy she was fighting.

None of them belonged here... Not she, who defected from the Sith Empire upon their failed execution. Not Petrichor. She didn't understand why, but it was clear he followed his own agenda, given his eagerness to cut down Sithspawn alongside a Jedi. And the Jedi...that was self-explanatory. The man was lucky to have gone unnoticed thus far. He especially had no place here.

Neither of them gave any indication they were aware of her presence, which delighted the Zabrak. If not even they detected her, then she was improving. Unfortunately, such a skill was quite demanding, and she couldn't play hide and seek forever. The longe she kept this up, the more draining it would be.

In another blitz of light, a Morchirsa stalled mid-stride as the saber impaled its heart from behind. Appearing almost as if its heart spontaneously combusted from its sternum in a flash of red and vaporizing blood. The beast had caught her scent a moment too late as it sprinted right by her. Dark robes blinked in and out of existence in time, blocked by its massive body, and then it crashed face-first into the tall grass. The boy looked down briefly at the limp, foul-smelling creature, and then looked back up in faint curiosity at the Jedi and Sith mowing down the ones who were racing towards the town beyond.

He was going to have the strangest dreams about this day for the rest of his life, but he didn't know that yet.

As they drew closer, Minka fixed her gaze momentarily on Petrichor. Noting the speed he swirled his blades, and the obedient tuk'ata that followed his lead. No...such intelligent and loyal beasts weren't to be trifled with. This one gave her pause, for even though she sensed something different about him, Sith were always less trustworthy than Jedi. If Cedric really was a true Light-slave, then she judged him to be more...predictable, if nothing else.

This momentary distraction was enough to tip the scale against her, as one of the many Mochirsa thundering past discovered her by sheer scent alone. It was bound to happen sooner or later, as she laxed her focus on blocking out the entirety of their senses. Their very fur was proficient at picking up smells, thanks to their modified Squib genes. From the corner of her eye, one skid through the grass, a blur of brown and flutter of frayed clothing billowing behind. Its teeth gnashed at her face, and she barely managed to twirl to the side. Instead of a physical assault, she changed tactics.

Three clones of herself bloomed within the her radius of influence, which by now was 15 meters. Visible to all, with distorted black clothing that mimicked blotches of ink suspended in water, rather than physical cloth. Arms and legs suspended like tendrils, while each head was a perfectly clear and identical image of her own. The Morchirsa that lunged for her invisible form changed course to attack an illusion that taunted it, and two more followed suit.

The nightmarish illusions sneered and danced around, as if toying with the Sithspawn. Stoking their rage. It wasn't without purpose...

When they were guided into the positions she wanted, Minka would permanently release her Force cloak with a crisp snap of a vibrowhip that reached 6 meters. The Morchisa missed the wind-up, catching only a flicker of pale blue light before the tip of the whip tore through its throat. A wave of blood gushed and spurt into the air, and the beast gave a strangled gurgle that was intended to be a scream of fury.

She wound up for another lash before they could crash lifeless to the ground. The strike spun tightly around the leg of the second, constricting and slicing through its fur with a tug. Minka braced, boots planting into the ground, and she flashed her clenching teeth as she pulled. Not with bare muscle alone, but through the Force as well, as the frothing beast easily weighed twice what she did. She roared in anger with the effort it took, and it lurched through the air.. A suicidal move, at first glance, but with a gleam of mischief in her eyes, she swung it into the third Mochirsa like a living wrecking ball of frothing rage and flailing talons.

The handle of the whip fell to the ground as she reignited her lightsaber. The two beasts struggled to rise, growling and snarling as they thrashed, but they didn't move fast enough. Minka silenced them both with one clean decapitation after another.

Stealing a quick moment to catch her breath, she planted one foot on the tangled corpses below. A mixture of hatred for the mutated hoard clashed with the delicious adrenaline rush she experienced in every battle to give her an expression that some strange combination of disgust, anger, and a sinister zeal. Nothing at all like the stoicism of before.

Yet the emotions didn't blindside her, as her eyes soon snapped back to Cedric and Petrichor, ensuring they weren't about to turn their hostilities towards her.

Cedric Grayson Darth Petrichor

 

[Cedric Grayson]

Crumbling as the Sith Empire was, its leaders were still very much a threat. Cedric strongly considered attempting to cut the man down as he fell just a few paces away. The half-second or so he would have while the stranger oriented himself was enough of an opening to shatter whatever defense he could bring to bare with those twin blades, and the contest would simply be over assuming the stranger had no other tricks.

For one reason or another, Cedric restrained his instincts. The stranger was helping deal with the beasts, meaning he was as much a victim of this situation as Cedric was. The exile could deal with whatever he was after the immediate threat was handled.

"Oh this?" He snapped as one of the monsters lunged toward him with a makeshift spear. The weapon was easily cleaved in two by Cedric's own, and an open palm containing sheer telekinetic energy to the creature's chest was enough to send it rolling violently back through the grasses. "This is just my usual warm up routine. Gets the blood pumping before I put down the Sith controlling them." He stared at Darth Petrichor for a moment, allowing the veiled threat to float for a second or so before turning to the next beast.

The creature's chest exploded outward as a lightsaber appeared from seemingly nothing. Behind that lightsaber was a woman, and as she landed the beasts that had been nearing him fell dead. The Bogan swirled about this one too, though the strangers were shrouded from him in both terms of intent and where they truly stood within the empyrean. The violence served well enough to drown any senses he might've had for anything beyond the here and now.

Utterly devastated, the pack broke their attack for now, those that could still move sprinting off into the grasses. Whether they intended to attack again or were truly retreating, Cedric had no idea.

"I take it those beasts didn't belong to either of you?" He asked, angling his blade down toward the ground to show he meant no threat, though not daring to disarm himself just yet. He glanced at Minka Vosh for a moment, eyes narrowing as he appraised the Zabrak. Weren't many of their sort left out in Sith space.

It was around that time that the beasts that had broken off reemerged, some running on all fours as they darted toward the trio from four different direction. Less concerned about being stabbed in the back than being ripped to shreds, Cedric turned about on his heel and pressed a gloved hand down upon the earth. Mounds of dirt exploded upward a few meters in front of him at the touch, smashing upward into several of the monsters as they drew close. it didn't kill any of them, but a large portion of their charge was blunted, and several came out of the affair with broken limbs.

"How many are there, shab."

 

[Darth Petrichor]

Petrichor was almost caught off guard by the sudden appearance of the Minka Vosh . He hadn't seen a Zabrak in some time, let alone in this part of the galaxy. He now found himself in an unexpected position. A darksider and a Jedi, how intriguing...

He ignored the thinly-veiled threat made by Cedric Grayson as he threw one of the beasts away with a resounding push from the Force. He had met enough Jedi in combat in his life to feel any fear from such words, nor was he concerned with fighting yet another Jedi. The days of petty vendettas against those who followed the light were far behind him, though he would still oblige if needed. His vision for the Sith was one that had no time for thousands of years of meaningless blood feuds.

He chuckled at Cedric's following statement. The Morchirsa were vile beasts, even by the standards of Sithspawn. Petrichor understood their purpose, but there was nothing about them that he personally found useful. After all, the mindless loyalty of many Sithspawn only reflected poorly on the Sith. They had grown drunk with power, and couldn't bring themselves to admit that many wouldn't be willing to blindly follow them. Thus, the creation of such beasts became a necessity of ego, and Petrichor had no time for ego.

"I wouldn't be caught dead with such unrefined creatures in my retinue."

Turning to Minka, he continued.

"And you, well... are certainly an interesting development."

He was quite impressed at the skills of these two strangers. One had exhibited very high levels of telekinetic ability, and the other had managed to elude his senses. Very interesting indeed...

Perhaps these would be some valuable allies in the coming days. Only time would tell.

One of the beasts turned toward them for another attack, shaken from being thrown to the ground, but not entirely done. As it charged toward the trio, Petrichor lifted a hand in the air, channeling his will through the Force. The beast rose in the air, thrashing about as if it had a chance to escape. Through the Force, Petrichor snapped the beasts arms and legs, and finally, it's neck. The Morchirsa fell to the ground, and Petrichor reignited his second lightsaber.

Yes, how many indeed...

 

[Minka Vosh]

Enough had been cut down to give the three of them a reprieve. The battle wasn't quite over, and at least one had slipped through the cracks and was on the brink of rampaging through the town in the near-distance, but the worst of the danger was over. Had she been alone, she believed she could have handled them on her own. It would have taken more time, with some flexible and rapid-fire tactical switches, but her ego insisted it was possible.

Of course, her ego wasn't always correct...

Nevertheless, having two additional exterminators with such useful skills made the cleanup much more efficient. The only problem was, she considered them both an enemy. Once all of these mutated mutts have been taken care of, one or both of these men could easily become a much more critical obstacle for her.

Funny enough, her skepticism was still planted heavily in Petrichor.

Cedric, to be honest, had her wondering what isolated, eons-old Jedi temple he'd been meditating in while the planet went to hell. He seemed to have missed the emergency evacuation as the Sith took over. Silly man must be lost.

"These beasts don't belong to anyone." The emotions beginning to melt back into hiding as she finally spoke to them. Returning to her stoic nature. It wasn't something that had come naturally in the beginning, but through a harsh learning curve her Master dragged her through. The woman had always been obsessed with control. Now, so was Minka, but in different ways.

"They are casualties of war. Some of them your people, I assume. Left to transform and carelessly wreak havoc on the land the Sith fought so hard for." Disdain dripped like venom in those words. "Pointless." And she would put them all out of their misery before returning to her ship, if things went her way. It was stupid of her. Completely contradictory and hazardous to her code of solitary, self-preservation, but she had to. It was an itch that needed to be scratched.

While she spoke, Cedric dispatched another small group that charged into them. The Zabrak didn't lift a finger, continuing to rest with her boot planted on the body at her feet. He looked like he could finish them off just fine on his own. As did Petrichor...

They were left to resume their violent dance with the stragglers that had arrived late on the scene, and she used the opportunity to study them. Watching what they did, how they moved, the nature and power of their skills. She judged them both to be at the very least a level of a Knight, if not Master. Something that didn't sit well with the paranoid outcast, but she gave no indication of her distrust and apprehension beyond her vigilant watch.

After the Sith hoisted one into the air and shattered its limbs, she looked from the crumpled, disfigured heap that fell like a sack of loose bones to Petrichor. "And why do you kill them? Why do you care what they do? A farming town is no concern to you."

As she awaited his answer, eyes glued rather intensely to the white mask he wore, a single shriek pierced the air. It seemed the one that had slipped through the cracks made it to the edge of town. Minka's lip twitched, and she snorted quietly through her nose. With obvious reluctance, she looked away. Turning her head in the direction of the overgrown animal hurdling toward its buffet.

It would slow to a clumsy stop as her hand lifted into the air. Focusing on them alone, she appeared to be doing nothing more than glaring at them with a frozen gesture, but the Mochirsa felt the effects. It whipped its head around, snapping and snarling at the air as if being attacked by something it couldn't see. Then its ears pinned back, and it thrashed around to sprint mindlessly in the opposite direction--back towards them. Racing like its fur was on fire. It was nothing so complex... Simply a exertion of fear, but it did it's job.

The beast acted like it didn't even see them as it closed the distance, but by the time its angry and horrified gaze snapped to one of them and it bared its teeth, Minka slipped a small vibroblade from a hidden sheath. With a blur of black and silver, it sank into the beasts eye socket, and it dropped below the tall grass with a loud thud.

Cedric Grayson Darth Petrichor

 

[Cedric Grayson]

It was difficult to keep up with the most recent breakthroughs in Sith Alchemy. There had been a time when tried and true methods were deemed the most successful, and thus the most popular. It was much easier to memorize what form of Sithspawn one faced back then. The beasts were far more impenetrable of a field to understand now that alchemy had become more common among the Sith. It didn't help that there was little organization to its practice anymore either.

Whatever these beasts were called, Cedric had no idea. They might have been twisted wild dogs, or a sentient race bent to the will of some self-obsessed cultist. He supposed it didn't much matter as the last of them fell. They might wear any name and it would have little relevance as long as they were killed. To let them live would be to spit in the face of the Ashla and her teachings. It was a mercy.

"Unrefined is a choice word," the exile mumbled as he replaced his lightsaber in its scabbard. He placed his hands on his belt and watched in silent appreciation as the Zabrak woman dispatched the final creature with a certain finesse that most Sith he'd encountered seemed to lack. Aimless brutality had become the common practice.

"They belong to the dirt now," Cedric mused, nudging one of the creature's with the tip of his boot. That was one threat dealt with at least: granted he wasn't about to pick a fight with two Sith. Dantooine might have been near the frontier now, but it still held a strong military presence. If he started picking fights with the local lords, he'd surely find himself swarmed by the local garrison.

Better to play nice.

"It's more of a mercy to free them of this debased existence rather than let them continue to suffer." He added, accepting the rationale wholly as he turned his gaze toward the village. He felt no more of the monsters, but it was far better to be safe than to be sorry. Satisfied, he turned back to the duo, a brow raised. "I wouldn't expect the Sith Empire to send what I assume to be a lord and an assassin to deal with creatures like these given how stretched thin they are with the war." He mused, "Why are you here?" He asked the both of them.

Minka Vosh , Darth Petrichor

 

[Darth Petrichor]

Petrichor was intrigued by the skills he had seen today. Rather unusual, to say the least. He would have to make a mental note for later investigation. He could sense the suspicion among the others. It seemed to permeate the very air around them. It was no matter, he had determined that, at least for now, neither of them were looking for a duel. He turned his lightsabers off and reattached them to his belt.

"Yes, a mercy indeed."

He turned to Minka Vosh . He could sense much anger inside of her, although he was unsure what that would entail for this encounter. Petrichor may have felt like this wouldn't end in a fight, but he wasn't looking to push any buttons.

"Yes, quite pointless. Barbaric, even. It is a sad sight to see exactly how lost the Sith have become. Truly detestable."

He looked to Cedric Grayson . The Jedi clearly hadn't come here to start a fight, but he was still a Jedi. Petrichor held no grudges against the Jedi, but he was well-aware of their ever-present efforts to remove the Sith from the galactic stage. To what end? What was the point of it all? Petrichor could never wrap his head around it.

"You are partially correct. I am a lord of the Sith, but I am no Imperialist sycophant."

Turning back toward Sutta and Taral, he motioned for them to return to his side.

"You know, the Sith stood for something, once. They were philosophers, revolutionaries even. They were meant for great things. At least, until they lost their way. I have no allegiance to these false Sith'ari and their ilk. There is no reason in pointless slaughter, and no honor in blind subjugation."

As his pets strolled up beside him, he took a minute to pet their heads. It was comforting to have them with him on this journey. They gave him an added sense of security, as well as a way to keep him grounded. He could sense that the others were wary of the tuk'ata. Not that they shouldn't be; Sutta and Taral would not hesitate to strike if needed. That being said, they wouldn't unless Petrichor were in danger.

"Don't worry about these two. They won't attack without provocation."

Petrichor returned his focus to the two strangers.

"So, what brings a Jedi here? And furthermore, why is there a darksider killing Sithspawn?"

He felt that he had divulged enough of himself to hopefully get some answers. Perhaps, perhaps not. Only time would tell...

 

[Minka Vosh]

There were many things swirling underneath her carefully guarded expression, but the anger was certainly there, and she didn't try to conceal it. In the right circumstances, she would gladly steer perceptions through manipulation and deception, but she could think of no benefit in this situation. Especially with two Force Masters who were probably about as suspicious and wary as she was. Toying with them would invite trouble, and not the fun kind.

Still, being generously candid wouldn't serve her either, and so she preferred to spend more time listening than speaking.

"The Empire doesn't send me anywhere. I do not serve cannibalistic puppets." She corrected Cedric flatly. Taking no offence to his reasonable assumption, but too proud to leave it unchecked.

Cannibalistic was a metaphor...mostly... The point was that no one commanded her anymore, and she would sooner die than revert to the brainwashed and limiting existence she led under their rule. She didn't bother to expand on her rationale just yet. A sneaky little whisper in the back of her mind, for the second time that day, pushed her to be silent and simply disappear, like she should have done a long time ago. She ignored it then...and so far, she was ignoring it now, though it distracted her.

He was correct in his assessment of her profession, however. Offering a faint smirk in response, she recalled first her small vibroblade. A wet squishing noise preceded the flicker of movement as it was Force-pulled from the eye socket and, hidden within the grass somewhere. It snapped into her palm, and she pulled a piece of cloth from a pocket to begin cleaning the blade.

As Petrichor spoke, divulging more information than she and the Jedi did combined, her resolution to keep quiet and tranquil melted. There were multiple influences at play, but the worst offender was an innate restlessness. Maintaining an air of indifference in the presence of a Sith was much more challenging for her than to do so with the Jedi.

The gaze that lifted to his insufferable, gleaming mask was once again intense. Weighted, but with shrouded intent. Masks... Helmets... They had more than one purpose, of course, but she always felt the urge to rip them off when she faced them.

The Force betrayed her elusiveness with echoes of electric hostility. Unwarranted though it was, the ripples were there. Giving the sense that his perceived strength and loyal reinforcements were the only things keeping her from pulling him into another dance of death, whether he wished it or not. The previous whispers of caution became more sinister, aggressive.

Then, they snuffed to silence as she took a slow, deep breath.

They were misguided whispers craving vengeance, which his death would not grant her.

"Such controversial statements... What did the Sith stand for?" She asked in a pleasant and curious tone. Similar to the voice she used with the oblivious child that led her through the forest. The one who was still standing motionless a few feet away, staring vacantly at a nearby mound of fur sticking up at an awkward angle.

"Yes, why are we all here. That is a great question." An amused smile flashed on her face. "I suppose I can humor you by going first."

With a deliberate pause, Minka extended her arm once more. The vibrowhip came to life with a humming slither as it unraveled from the tangle of bodies. It flew through the air like a thin serpent and returned to her hand.

"I came here to reclaim something that was lost here many years ago. Much easier to do now, without a swarm of Jedi getting in the way. The Sithspawn were in my way...and now they are not." A relatively clipped explanation, though not wholly untruthful, as she wound the vibrowhip neatly into place. She wasn't about to tell either of them about the powerful amulet, in case it inspired their tentative peace to dissolve. Though frankly, she wouldn't be too surprised if one of them sensed its presence regardless. It hung around her neck, tucked beneath her robes.

The Sithspawn was an outright lie. They had never been in her way. She chose to be in their way, and she had no good answer for that. None that would earn her respect among Sith, at least. The real reason for her decision wasn't something she completely understood either, which was another excuse to lie.

Darth Petrichor Cedric Grayson

 

[Darth Petrichor]

Petrichor could sense an internal struggle within the Zabrak. Such rage, such anger... and yet, somehow it remained contained. An admirable quality, particularly in a darksider. He was growing even more curious about this person. She seemed to walk outside of the Sith in a way that few did. Perhaps there was more to her than just her abilities.

"Cannibalistic indeed..."

He could hear the challenge in her words. It seemed as if no matter where he went, his words were destined to be greeted with doubt. Not that it was a surprise at this point. Petrichor had grown quite accustomed to the process. Even before he left the company of his Sith brethren, he was in a constant state of debate with his peers. The Sith struggled with understanding his view on the Force, and often it had come to blows. Accusations of heresy and lunacy had become commonplace for him, and yet it didn't matter. Petrichor knew the truth of the Force, and refused to be silenced by those who are too short-sighted to understand.

He took a step forward as she cleaned her blade.

"They stood for freedom of expression, freedom of thought. The freedom to study the Force as one saw fit. The first Sith were Jedi, once. All that they asked for was the ability to study the Dark Side, and they were met with nothing but opposition. They were cast out, and had to find their own way among the stars."

He looked to the dead Morchirsa lying on the ground, scoffing in disgust at the works of his fellow Sith.

"We were never meant to be conquerors, nor emperors. We were meant to be students, teachers, philosophers... and yet, here we are. Stuck in a perpetual cycle of destruction with no end in sight. Slaves to the Dark Side when we should be spreading words of control and growth."

His eyes snapped back to her as he continued.

"That is what the Sith once stood for."

He didn't exactly believe that she was telling the truth, or at least, not the whole truth. He decided not to press it. There would be nothing to gain by angering the stranger.

"Ah yes, I imagine that would be difficult with a swarm of Jedi running about."

He let out a slight chuckle as the words left his mouth.

Minka Vosh Cedric Grayson

 

[Minka Vosh]

Though she wasn't sure what she expected to come out of his mouth, the more he spoke, the more he surprised her. The more he surprised, the more suspicious she became. With the limited information she had to work with, she quickly assessed him to be an equation full of errors. He just didn't make sense.

Not a trace of hostility could be detected. Not towards her, or even the Jedi, which was very unusual. On the surface, he was placid. Beneath, the glimpses thus far had only been perplexing. Granted, her years were young and experiences relatively narrow, but he was not like the Sith she had known. He was...a mimic. A familiar enough shell to fit the mold, but something remarkably different.

Her gaze was inscrutable, as she often preferred it to be, unless she was absorbed in the chaos of battle, or seeking to influence someone. Looking as if he were speaking to a wall that refused to hear him, but that wasn't the case. Behind the scenes, she was trying to process what he was saying and how it fit like a puzzle piece into the picture she assumed him to be. But that wasn't going to be possible...

Traces of disbelief and shock would betray her stoicism when he spoke key words.

'...never meant to be conquerors... Slaves to the Dark Side... spreading words of control...'

Her expression danced in animation with little warning. A bright grin, widening eyes, and then a peel of laughter. Nothing loud or obnoxious, but quite genuine and natural. She didn't believe him. Couldn't believe him. But what she found even harder to believe was a rationale for the little speech he gave, if it wasn't his truth. It sounded absolutely absurd, but he must be serious.

After a moment, the laughter simmered down, and she openly stared at him with a faint tilt of her head. "Oh... You mean it, don't you? Everything you said, you whole-heartedly believe..." Minka paused as the wheels turned. The suspicion was still there--it always would be--but it was joined in fascination. He was less a threat now, and more something to dissect. Thoroughly.

"What a curious thing. A tempered Sith, who values control over themselves, rather than others? Who seeks not to conquer, but to philosophize...and teach... Are there more where you come from? Because I have not me a single one with that mindset. The Masters I knew would have ridiculed you in the least, and cut you down in disgust at worst. Probably both. Yet here you are... Tell me how you have survived so long in such opposition. Clearly you have, since you are no bumbling apprentice."

He had her full attention now. Possibly more than he even wanted, though it was hard to tell. If he truly was the type to thrive on philosophy, this might suit him just fine. She was doing more than watching and listening, however. There was nothing violent or malicious in its intent, but he would likely sense the invasion as she pricked at his mind. Pilfering whatever surface thoughts were there, and probing deeper to discover whatever she could, short of inciting anger or retaliation. It was a bold and risky move, but gentle enough to imply it wasn't an attempt to antagonize.

Darth Petrichor

 

[Darth Petrichor]

Petrichor wasn't surprised by the disbelief present in the Zabrak's words. He wasn't even offended when she chuckled. This young darksider had clearly suffered the cruelty of the Sith, though Petrichor was unsure of the extent of her indoctrination. That being said, she seemed to grow agitated when discussing the current state of the Sith, indicating that she was somewhat of an anomaly; not unlike himself.

"Of course I believe it. It's the truth."

It was always so strange to see just how far away from their roots the Sith had gone. So few of them had any knowledge of their origins. So few understood how far they had fallen. And yet, if he could conjure a single moment of clarity within Minka Vosh , perhaps that would be a step in the right direction.

"I have survived due to my ability to assess a threat before it appears. Not that I haven't had to dodge my share of assassins. Assassins not unlike yourself."

If she could see his face, she'd see a slight hint of a smile.

"And to answer your question, there are others. More than you'd think. I've spent years gathering as many as I could find. Some of them venture out on my behalf, but they tend to keep to the shadows. If you haven't heard of them, then that means they are doing their job. I have my own academy, far away from these short-sighted imperialists."

He let out a slight chuckle.

"As far as your masters go, you are correct. They would likely try to kill me... and they would likely fail, as they have for all of these years."

He began to feel something in his mind. The thoughts of another seemed to subtly be probing his thoughts...

It was her.

Petrichor would usually protect himself against such a probe, but instead seeing this as a threat, Petrichor saw an opportunity.

"I see you have some telepathic skill as well. Very well, I am an open book."

He proceeded to open his thoughts to her. His journeys through the galaxy, the publication of his philosophical text, the building of the academy... all of it was available to her to see. If she could sense the truth in his words, perhaps she would be more inclined to believe them. The only thing he blocked was the location of the academy. He may have found an ally, but until he was sure, he couldn't divulge anything that would put his Order at risk.

 

[Minka Vosh]

Again, he surprised her. At the very least, she expected to be shut out of his mind and chastised for snooping, but he didn't seem to be bothered at all. He shared with her many things in a short period of time. Snippets of a long life, all important highlights that amounted to his current purpose, and passion. They were carefully chosen, she could tell. The pieces that were concealed, she left alone. Not the easiest for her to accomplish, given that her instincts generally guided her to provoke or hunt any sort of opposition. And during this tumultuous period, almost everyone was considered opposition.

Something about this one made her want to play nice, regardless of the assumption that he would outrank her in many, if not all, skills that she employed. His presence was very calming.

When she had 'seen' everything he allowed within his mind, Minka tilted her chin up in consideration, and she eyed him skeptically. A look that often made her seem haughty, which wasn't completely untrue.

"A passive Sith. The perfect oxymoron." She murmured quietly, almost to herself.

The breeze picked up in her silence, hissing through the grass and wafting the putrid scent of the Mochirsa, as well as distant corpses beyond. Left to rot in the aftermath of battle. Her head turned slightly as she glanced finally to the enthralled boy, still standing in quiet obedience under the bright sun. "Go." The simple command jolted him, as if he'd suddenly woken from a deep sleep. His eyes snapped around wildly in confusion, and then landed on a mutilated torso covered in bloody fur.

Letting out a shrill scream in surprise and disgust, he almost lost his balance thrashing away from it. A wild look landed on Minka, then Petrichor, and he paused for a bewildered moment, before sprinting off towards the town. Clumsily tripping over more than one hidden body along the way.

A strange smile crept on her face as she thought, gaze skimming through the grass now. "What a shame you hadn't scooped me up instead..." A dry chuckle followed. He might not understand what she meant, but she didn't elaborate.

Her eyes returned to him then. "What is your plan, then? To sprinkle your little seedlings throughout the galaxy in hopes the Empire will gradually change its perspective, in time? Do you think the insatiable, paranoid Sith Lords will lay down their weapons and give up the absolute control and reverence they thrive on? What good is temperance and self-control, when the ultimate power the Dark Side has to offer demands such severe passion to wield it, and there are so many who gladly lose themselves to its insanity? Passion...control...these are two things that cannot coexist. And if they can...they must be a mere curve in the pendulum's swing. Something possible only in motion, which inherently will not last."

The irony, which was lost to her in the moment, was that she was already attempting to do the very thing she insisted was not possible. Use the Dark Side strictly as a tool, while keeping self-control.

Her purple eyes swept over the mask--which admittedly, still irritated her, though not as much now--and down over his person. Taking stock of the double-breasted jacket and the zeyd suit beneath. Assessing him as if she were still trying to make him fit into a puzzle he didn't belong. "Maybe you are an exception... But if your own followers must hide in the shadows, what do you really accomplish?"

Darth Petrichor