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Zambrano: Homecoming

- - - - - Murakami Dathomir TSE

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Elani Zambrano

Elani Zambrano

    Arcana Panathum

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Near Neko Ilnayia Kanyon



"No matter how far you go, how lost you feel, how uncertain things may seem, you will always be able to find your way home, little one." -Elani's mother




The black frame of the Emberwing descended upon the surface of the planet Dathomir swiftly and quietly. The brightness of day had just started to dim as night was slowly approaching. The air shifted greatly as the shuttle came closer to the ground before landing on the earth gracefully. As the engine of Emberwing quieted down to silence, the ramp opened up and planted into the dirt below. At the top of the ramp stood a hooded figure flanked by two others. The central figure stepped down the ramp and the other two followed until they reached the dirt. Almost in unison, the trio removed the hoods from their heads, revealing their faces. It was Elani Zambrano and two of her Murakami acolytes.


Elani breathed in deeply, taking in the air of her homeworld. "It's been so many long, long years." She walked forward, the acolytes following closely behind their mistress. "I'm still attempting to grasp the truth." She continued on. "I remember that day. When father took me with him. When I left without even saying goodbye. When I..." she stopped herself before she could think back on that day even more. It was not one she remembers fondly. Her feet implanted into the dirt, leaving slight tracks with each graceful step."I am..." she paused briefly as she looked ahead to the horizon. A tear began to form in the corner of her eye as a flood of emotions came upon her.



Edited by Elani Zambrano, 08 November 2019 - 11:57 AM.

|| Bobo | Koren Merr | Lieri ||




Jenmae Ophiro

Jenmae Ophiro

    B L E E D

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When one means to create life, the ingredients required should be collected with the utmost of care.


- - -


Blood, thick and oozing, still hot from the vein - that was the quarry the White Witch sought. Not just any blood, however. Having spent the better part of a month working with those on the fringes of society in the Southern systems to try and locate a specific sub-species of Rancor, the wraith had come up empty-handed. There was a particular flavour of murderous that suited her purpose, and the garden variety of bone-crunching monster simply would not do. 


After exhausting her prospects in and around Confederate space, the pale specter had turned her sights to the one place she knew she was certain to find what she sought… Though the acquisition of such a thing would likely prove difficult, for a number of reasons.


The Sith Empire was, if nothing else, a stickler for protocol when it came to the security of the assets that fell under the banner of its… Protection. When Dathomir had passed from the Madolorian clans to the Sith as part of the terms for peace between them, it had moved even further from reach for any errant nightsisters who, for whatever reason, may not have been welcomed with open arms back to their world. It presented Jenmae with a unique problem, but the White Witch of Cularin felt certain she was up to the task.




Passing into Empire space had required a level of stealth on the witch’s part that was not something she was accustomed to. Passing in and out of Confederate space unnoticed was as easy as making one’s self appear harmless - but the Sith were not so kind to those who were unable to produce proof of their citizenship. As such, the White Witch had needed to take her time, taking routes that made no sense from an expediency standpoint but resulted in safe passage to Dathomir itself.


The landing would be another matter. Following the acquisition of the planet, the amiable nature of the Sith’s relationship with the Mandolorian clans had seemingly evaporated, and it appeared that the Empire may have been concerned for the security of their recent addition. Massive ships surrounded the planet itself, and it had necessitated the requirement to leave her own transport vessel in orbit, instead opting for a much smaller drop pod that would hopefully go unnoticed during her descent to the planet.


As the pod settled into the muck of the swamplands she’d selected for her drop zone, the gentle whir of the ramp was followed by the sharp clack of booted heels along the durasteel. The witch had selected clothing that would not mark her as alien from a distance, and to be certain, as a denizen of Dathomir herself, she was unlikely to be bothered should anyone come across her regardless. The thick black travelling jacket that swept around her knees as she walked, and the cowl hood deep enough to shield her cascading white hair as it pooled across her shoulders would do, she assumed. Heavy black boots carried her clear of the pod, the ramp retracting as she set out in the direction of what her topographical scans had shown was the entrance to an underground cavern.


The young witch had left Dathomir long enough ago that it wasn’t much of a home to her now, but even she knew the histories of the area she was headed towards. Niko Ilnayia Kanyon was forged when rivers bore deep into the earth, creating a void where the canyon’s yawning maw sat, a place where no creatures dared to tread, and where only orchids seemed to grow… But there was something that lived in the caverns that fed those ancient rivers.


She would need a creature of considerable size or strength for her experiment - and time was unlikely to be her ally in this particular venture.



Rowan Devonshire

Rowan Devonshire

    Something Wicca This Way Went

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There was a lot to be said of Dathomir, Rowan could only imagine it. Her hands outstretched toward the branches of the trees in the Shattered Forest. A pit stop on her way to the Canyon, a chosen Daughter of Lilith to interact with the other covens. Eyes the shade of the grass on a beautiful spring day watched the carriage draw near. Quietly she would climb and quietly she would ride. Dathomir was a curious place shrouded in mystery and mist of mountains that long stood over many of the citizenry here.


She pulled tightly at her night colored shawl, her jet black hair curled, coiled along her shoulders ichor is what made the witches here tick. It is what made them special she supposed. A familiar mewl beside her revealed the black cat with soft honeyed amber eyes, "fret not Mr. Sedgwick we are nearly there." She cooed to the cat who climbed up along her arm and perched on her shoulder. 


The carriage would take them only so far and Rowan, with Mr. Sedgwick at her side would walk toward their meeting place humming a haunting lullaby of the witches dead on Galidraan. Sing their names, tell their tales and borrow from their power all the same. Quietly once more, without much of a sound Sedgwick and Rowan would arrive on time. 


Jenmae Ophiro | Elani Zambrano