A Change of Pace [The Primeval]

[Boethiah]

War with the Dominion was inevitable....

Their conquests of Wild Space took them across numerous worlds and systems the Primeval once held onto. When a Dominion fleet had arrived in the Chiloon Rift, the Primeval were forced to act swiftly; with resources working against them. Yet the Primeval managed to establish a foothold and from there they drove out much of the Dominion's presence.

Now it is in the Rift that the Primeval claim their mantle once more, and it is from the Rift they begin to look elsewhere.

​

- Port Xev -​

​

Port Xev had once served as a fueling station for the old Host, and now it serves as their new capitol. Deep inside the base a meeting is taking place, Boethiah and her high priests summoned those who have shown strength. Those whose voice she holds above all else. These few among many will find a large, open hall with nothing inside save for the Witch and her guardians.

"Welcome," she addresses the first arrivals. "It is time for us to begin our great work..." The witch's demeanor has shifted. Changed. She is no longer as lost as she once was, and speaks far more clearly. "With our enemies no longer pressing down upon us, we have a window of opportunity. The Rift is where we begin, but what we do does not end here."

"There are worlds and systems elsewhere which hold great value in both knowledge and power, and now we must choose where first to strike."

It wouldn't take much for anyone to understand the meaning behind her words. She is looking for a target, the next system to expand the Primeval's presence.

[member="AD-Iqatar.13"] | [member="Allara Ven"] | [member="Aria Vale"] | [member="Antherion"] | [member="Auswyn Nothrael"] | [member="Butterfly"] | [member="Cady"] | [member="Creepella"] | [member="Darth Doom"] | [member="Darth Ophidia"] | [member="Darth Prazutis"] | [member="Evaelyn Zambrano"] | [member="Fatty"] | [member="Isamu Baelor"] | [member="Joon"] | [member="Joycelyn Zambrano"] | [member="Kadri Ughad"] | [member="Khaldun"] | [member="Khaleel Malvern"] | [member="Lady Death"] | [member="Lethia Morow"] | [member="Logan"] | [member="Lord Ajihad"] | [member="Loxa Visl"] | [member="Moravian Zambrano"] | [member="Nick Imura"] | [member="Orkamaat"] | [member="Pravus Zambrano"] | [member="Rook"] | [member="Safiriel Bane"] | [member="Tai Fa"] | [member="The Rusted Queen"] | [member="The Slave"] | [member="Thor"] | [member="Tubal Sahon"] | [member="Vanja Del'Vaan"] | [member="Vaylin"] | [member="Warok the Defiler"]

 

[Darth Empyrean]

On the outskirts of their heretical meeting, The Slave sat with a slight grin pressed on his lips. In the short time it took for the Primeval to take their new home, he had spent the same time revitalizing the dogmatic masses of Lorrd’s leadership and using their influence and wealth to take the leadership of The Dominion under himself. He was the absolute leader of their senate, the final say on their laws, and the final say in what their responses would be. Easily, he had proven himself a vital asset to the Primeval, and it was no surprise to him he was invited to this meeting.

Still, despite the prowess he showed and the drive he laid to those that stood in his path; this was nothing more than a hobby to him. The Primeval served no end to him, and unless his master told him to dedicate himself to them; he had no reason to. While he had proven himself to their masses, and had accrued a sizable reputation under the name of ‘The Slave’, they still meant little to him in the grand scheme of things.

And yet he appeared to show face, idly awaiting her speech to began. Once done, he let his words ring out amongst the crowd with a resounding effort, making sure to make his presence known.

“I say we take the old capital. The Dominion is little threat, and in due time will be nothing more than a puppet of our demands.”

He paused, moving to stand and move towards the front to expand on his point.

“Bastion is our rightful home. It is there we should find our permanent place in the galaxy.”

│ @Boethiah │

 

[Connor Harrison]

Joon stood back and watched. The Primeval still perplexed her – they didn’t act as if they followed a certain path of the Force, but they seemed to seek something elsewhere. Elusive. It was fascinating to watch and learn from, seeing what else the galaxy had hidden away for people like these to discover.

Her eyes moved to watch [member="The Slave"] speak out following the address by [member="Boethiah"] about where to move next.

”I would leave Bastion for now,” she called out, arms folded. ”Bastion will continue to attract those wanting to regain the glory of the Empire and tap into the nexus of the Dark Side, like your Sith, and whoever is there will become automatic targets. I suggest a place a little quieter – amass a standing with what forces and resource you can before going after a target of such high standing.”

She knew how the Imperial war-machine worked. It would be a magnet for fanatics wanting to hold a key planet in history steeped with lore.

The Primeval would be wiped out on arrival facing the might of such a ruthless enemy as that.

 

[NightSister]

More and more, Aria found herself proud that she fought with the Primeval. It went beyond a matter of ideals though she agreed with theirs almost entirely - their darkness transfixed her, impossibly drew her in. If she'd not long realised that right and wrong were mere illusion, she'd have gone as far to say that it felt right to stand with them.

It didn't surprise her that she'd been summoned when Boethiah called a meeting, but it certainly pleased her.

She'd been certain to arrive in good time; Aria stood fairly near the front of the hall by the time the host lord began to speak. Since their outing to Gulamendis she had only seen Boethiah here and there - but the change was evident. They'd be well-led, she wordlessly decided.

A man she was sure she recognized (Rhelg, Aria - Imperia's castle) suggested Bastion in answer to Boethiah's proposal of expansion, and a woman voiced disagreement at the potential danger. Bastion belonged to the Ascendancy, last she'd heard. They and any other Sith who went after the planet would surely be deadly opponents - but the Primeval was deadlier.

"We're strong enough to deal with anyone who wants Bastion," she said dryly, "it's not a bad idea, but we should worry first about reclaiming the Dominion's land."

They'd stolen territory that had once been the Primeval's, after all. To Aria, that just wouldn't do.

- [member="Boethiah"] - [member="The Slave"] - [member="Joon"] -​

 

[Darth Empyrean]

“Given time, The Dominion’s lands will come back passively.”

The Slave watched Joon and Aria speak up, his own spirited tone making its stance known with a subtle dominance. As alabaster hair shifted slightly from an unnatural breeze, he moved to continue his speech;

“Consider it religious Osmosis. They stand weak against numerous external forces, and with the lands they claim still holding many of the dogmatic practitioners of The Primeval, they’ll soon be put to heel in regards to the lands they’ve claimed.”

A quick grin flashed on his pale rose lips;

“As their Senate leader, I can guarantee it.”

│ [member="Aria Vale"] │ @Joon │ @Boethiah │

 

[NightSister]

"As their senate leader?"

Half shocked and half totally incredulous, Aria turned fully to face [member="The Slave"]. What the supposed leader of the Dominion was doing in a Primeval meeting - what he was doing announcing himself as their leader in a Primeval meeting was entirely incomprehensible and to Aria utterly absurd.

Maybe Imperia can explain?
I certainly hope so.

Someplace that wasn't a fairly important meeting, she would've demanded some form of explanation. But there were people better authorised to remove him if such was needed, and he didn't otherwise seem to pose a threat.

"Well, maybe, but the Dominion control a lot of land and we don't know how long we'll be waiting." Mistrustful eyes narrowed at the Slave - the only visible giveaway now that she'd heard him at all. "They can do a lot in the time it takes them to be 'put to heel'."

 

[Connor Harrison]

Joon looked at [member="Aria Vale"] and did nothing. When [member="The Slave"] spoke up, she was more than perplexed at his admission.

She stood a little taller from the rear wall she leant on and took a few slow steps forward, gauging him as he stood there with that smile.

”Religion has nothing to do with it, boy. They rule with iron fists and weapons that level cities. No religion will stand in their way, which is why the Primeval need to become something more that they don’t expect. Something beyond their weapons. We need to harness the Force as a weapon itself, and combined with your dark magic and alchemy, unleash hell on them. Burn them, ravage them, break them. Go beyond their limited vision of things and then we will appear like Gods.”

Then she looked at this Slave.

”Only then when you are a God can you preach about religion. You,” Joon then turned to Aria, who seemed more of a warrior. ”What are our forces like to take nearby systems. Start to spread the fire around them. Box them in. Smoke them out.”

[member=Boethiah]

 

[Vaylin]

Five years on Dxun. That was fine. Having to work side-by-side with a Lightsider. That was doable. Traveling through a corrupted, twisted tomb. That was a challenge.

This however? Vaylin hated it.

Being here amongst the rest of the Primeval was the first time the Zabrak had been surrounded by a large group of people. Throw her into a pack of beasts, she'd be fine. A crowd of people? Not so much. Even if these were suppose to be friends and allies, Vaylin couldn't help but feel uneasy. It was why she was stood beside Aria. She was the only person she knew, so Vaylin remained by her Master's side.

She had originally been intending to explore another planet, but Aria had gotten in contact about the meeting. Vaylin had been initially dismissive, but her Master had insisted on her attending, given she was suppose to be part of the Primeval now. So Vaylin abided and made sure she was here, despite her current poor mood.

However as she listened, to Boethiah and the few others that immediately spoke up afterwards. Something sparked within the Zabrak, as she turned her gaze between each of them as they spoke, and finally found her voice; despite being more of a fighter than a talker.

"Whether it is Bastion or another, the Primeval needs to make a move soon. Our conquering of the Chiloon Rift was an open message to the galaxy as a whole. The Primeval have returned, and there are no doubt people out there who remember its history. Who will want to ensure we cannot rise and surpass those former heights."

[member="Boethiah"] | [member="The Slave"] | [member="Aria Vale"] | [member="Joon"]​

 

[Poe]

​The cyborg, along with a hand few of soldiers from her personal ​Droid Army​, stood in the back listening to the proceedings. Bastion, the planet now held in the grip of a new Sith threat, had been mentioned frequently; and despite her ambition to crush the Sith underfoot, the time was not ripe for the picking.

​"If I may interject," her computerized voice echoing off the walls, ​"Would it be wise for us to draw more enemies to our doorstep by invading Bastion? The Dominion may not be done with us yet, and I'm sure everyone here is well aware we are centered between both the Dominion and this Sith Ascendancy." ​For her, she had no qualms about fighting any organic, regardless of their alignment in either the Force or in morals; what concerned her was poking a sleeping dragon to the North while an enraged Wookie sat slobbering to their East, West, and South.

​"We should make our moves methodically to the North East, less we wish to be engulfed by the Dominion and the Sith Ascendancy." ​The survival of the Primeval, in her opinion, rested on securing planets before heading into open war with two Empires. ​"We need resources more than we need war."


[member="Boethiah"] l [member="The Slave"] l [member="Joon"] l [member="Aria Vale"] l [member="Vaylin"]

 

[Boethiah]

"I have no interest in politics," the witch interrupts their little debate.

Boethiah steps forward, moving herself closer to the audience that beseeches her. "I know there are many of you who desire to plunge the dagger into old enemies. Sith, Jedi, Senate. It means nothing--they play a game, and it isn't one I care for." First she looks to [member="The Slave"] who had reminded them twice now of his amassed power.

"You speak of your position as a benefit to us all, but I am not so sure you actually see it that way. Is it truly but a tool to be exploited or have you allowed politics to shackle you to the dominion? Certainly it is an anchor to your maneuvering," next she walks only a few steps short of [member="Aria Vale"]. "Bastion is a fortress world. Certainly we may take it, but then we would have to pour resources into defending an imperial graveyard."

From there the witch continues her pacing, stepping towards [member="Joon"]. "A wise suggestion, but do not underestimate the power of faith as well. Have you not seen how a mother protects her child? Faith, like love, can lead people beyond reason and into realms you have yet to fathom." Lastly, Boethiah walks towards the cyborg [member="AD-Iqatar.13"].

"The Rift is vast beyond all measure. The resources here once fed the imperial war machine in the days of the old Galactic Empire... We are already engulfed, too. The Dominion will surely seek vengeance, and they've already proven to be reckless. The Sith on the other hand are not ones to share power, if anything they will only see us as a lesser power to influence in their ultimate pursuit of hegemony."

Taking a step back from them, Boethiah addresses the final voice that had spoken up. She does not look to [member="Vaylin"] when she speaks, however. "Listen well to this one's words. It is true that our return will attract many enemies, and we must move quickly as they will certainly try to swallow us before we ever have the chance."

 

[Darth Empyrean]

The Slave gave [member="Aria Vale"] and [member="Joon"] his attention first, his voice carrying with it the confidence that he carried in equal droves as it did involves.

“I think you underestimate the rate at which the loyal rise after the revival of the Primeval as a sovereign state. I’ve seen a number of reports within The Dominion about many sectors seeing increased threats from their masses, and with us in place at their leadership; only a few careful moves will land us directly in command of their holdings.”

“What I imply is, a softer hand will get us farther for less than a heavy hand will.”

His gaze drifted to the bot named [member="AD-Iqatar.13"] just after, with it the corrupted gaze that formed from the dark side within him. An amber haze that panned over their form before he spoke;

“Robotic response. Logical. However, you’re missing key variables in your analysis; the first being what The Dominion is capable of, and the second being awaiting a preemptive strike from The Sith. There is no safe answer in what you propose, and I simply offer us a means to avoid direct conflict.”

“Follow up in additional strikes towards The Dominion, and no matter how much sway I have in the senate would save The Primeval from an all out war.”

Lastly, he brought his attention towards [member="Boethiah"], whose outburst cut a swath of silence through the murmur of the crowd. She commanded a great respect in the room, no matter what many of them carried with them; but The Slave responded as he did with any of them;

“Politics are no more a shackle to me, than my dependence on a false identity. There is no anchor in where I move, only in who commands me.”

“That being said, the faithful amongst the masses of The Dominion, The Sith, or any other are exactly what we should rely on. It is those huddled masses that seek the saving embrace of their matriarch, and the exact people we should transcend. Utilize the weight of our reputation, bring the masses their savior, and conquer the old lands; not for the sake of a forlorn fortress-”

He paused, as if to emphasize what he was to say next;

“- but to bring a message to the Outer Rim as a whole. The Primeval will not be stopped in retaking her claims.”

 

[Boethiah]

Boethiah looks immediately over to the slave.

"Do you know who my predecessor is?" A rhetorical question; even if he did not know. "There's nothing to prove, anyone can claim power in fleets and armies, but as you've seen we move through such obstacles. We do not fight with their methods, we do not play their games. So it is simple: We are not competing with anyone. Someone is either in our way, or they are not." The young witch draws her imbued blade.

She steps closer to him, holding the blade low, loose, and otherwise nonthreateningly.

"Come here and cut your hand on the tip of my sword," she does not speak with any malice in her voice. "I will show you my predecessor, then you will understand." Of course it wasn't a request, either.

The Primeval is not a nation, it is not a state, it is not a government. It is a movement--every act is to secure a goal, and every goal is to further their mission.

[member="The Slave"]

 

[Darth Empyrean]

“Devoutness requires hope, no matter how much you believe in blind faith.”, he responded in equal coldness.

“We compete with the threat of negligible existence; whether you consider that ‘someone’ or not. You even agreed with such a statement in response to the Zabrak.”, he said in idle spirits, a hand passively motioning to those who had spoken before.

“But fine, if it is blood you seek; then cut. Prove your point, and bestow upon me what you wish. If what you say is true, then I’ll take back what I said; if not, then my point still stands.”

An open palm offered itself to her, an ash like paleness that was his skin showed signs of work; and a slowly rolling smoke of force energy that seemed as foreign as the crowd that stood around their conversation even now.

“The Primeval need hope. Movements don’t run on a secluded view from the top.”

And so he waited, aurelian eyes patiently watching and waiting for the ever hesitant glance of the blade, idly preying on her form as they stood.

│ @Boethiah │

 

[Boethiah]

The tip of the blade presses down into his open palm, splitting the flesh shallowly with a swift and short cut.

A single cut from dreamweaver was all it took for the blade's magiks to begin working. Forged with the secrets of the ancient Jedi, and imbued with the power of Aj'Rou--a strength in illusions that even the Sorcerers of Tund fell short of. It took naught but seconds for the power to grab hold of [member="The Slave"]'s mind, numbing his senses at first; a feeling as if his spirit were being torn from his body.

Boethiah did not stand idle. An outreached hand of hers begins to channel the force of her predecessor, whose spirit resides within. To the man's eyes he would witness the world fade into black, only small flickering lights akin to distant stars dancing faintly in the background. A total disconnection from force and body, a sensation of drowning in darkness, and feeling light as a feather.

"Hope wavers, child of the stars. It is not they we will uplift. They could never hope to climb as us." Anja's voice speaks to the Slave now, but in the blackness a figure steps forth--not her but Boethiah. "Your pride comes from raw power, but it is unrefined. You hope through your machinations that you will find something worth holding onto. It is why you fill yourself with vice, you're trying to plug the wound so you don't bleed out."

"The power you seek has come easily, hasn't it? Do you usually get what you want?" She asks.

[member="The Slave"]

 

[Connor Harrison]

Joon nodded to this priestess - this witch - [member="Boethiah"] with her acknowledgement. Of course, the fact she was a clone wasn’t knowledge, so biological love and care was beyond her. She was made for war, bred for battle. Commanding. Leading. Fighting. It was all she knew how to do, and she knew the Jedi and the Light was the enemy.

If this woman was to lead the darkness against the light, she would stand with her.

With [member="The Slave"] sparking some tension in the room, Joon simply stood and watched. Part of her willed his blood to be shed, and it seemed that was the case, but a ritual took place that was unlike anything she had ever seen.

Something was happening between the two, and she could feel the swirl of the Force, and it was captivating. Her amber eyes lit up as she watched, and listened.

”What are you doing to him…” she said dreamily, not out of care for the boy, but out of desire to learn the power she wielded.

 

[NightSister]

"Sufficient," she answered [member="Joon"] simply - she might've said more if she knew more, but Aria's knowledge of their resources was honestly fairly limited. Such things as deciding how to use those resources weren't beyond her ability; more often however, she preferred to be at the fighting end of those decisions.

Eyes went to [member="Vaylin"] when the Zabrak spoke up. Aria was perfectly aware that her apprentice was at the meeting purely out of obligation, and she knew Vaylin was clever enough to give worthwhile input but hadn't particularly expected her to do so. She made a point that Aria, largely out of haste, had more or less missed; Aria nodded in approval.

[member="Boethiah"] cut in before Aria could decide whether it was worth disagreeing with [member="The Slave"]. The witch was perfectly right that there were better uses of their resources than going after Bastion - equally so that playing politics was a waste of the Primeval's time. The majority of them were there, after all, because of their belief in gods; whether not Aria believed in them - she didn't (yet?) although she remained quiet on that matter - she could at least agree that nobody in pursuit of gods had time for governments.

Any other opinions she might've been about to put forward were interrupted when Boethiah turned her attention to the slave; she watched, intensely curious, as she drew a blade. If nothing else, this was certainly proving interesting.

 

[Vaylin]

Vaylin had immediately snapped her mouth shut after she had finished speaking, in mild concern that she had spoken out of turn. The Zabrak, one who'd willingly throw herself into a group to slaughter them, felt like she wanted to shrink down and hide. Her eyes had instantly fallen towards [member="Aria Vale"], and was pleasantly surprised to see approval in her Master's expression. That seemed to have an effect on Vaylin, easing her nerves.

Which promptly rose again when [member="Boethiah"] began to speak once more. The witch had an aura to her, commanding those around her to listen with their full attention. Vaylin's gaze followed her as she walked, addressing each that had spoken. From Aria to [member="Joon"] to [member="AD-Iqatar.13"] then finally herself. She didn't miss the obvious fact she wasn't being directly looked at, but Vaylin said nothing of it. Just happy enough that her words hadn't been out of place after all.

What followed next had made the Zabrak truly uneasy. She watched as Boethiah and [member="The Slave"] went back and forth, a building tension increasing with each sentence as the two debated and argued. Right up to the point the woman pulled out a blade.

Blood, it's always blood with the ancients.

Sumiko's words on Athiss immediately rang in the Zabrak's mind, watching as The Slave held out his hand and allowed it to be cut. Vaylin had no real idea what was going on in the pale one's mind right now, but she could guess. And it certainly didn't ease her nerves any better. Vaylin subconsciously took a step closer to Aria. But at the same time her attention was rapt to the ongoing situation. Silence had fallen, so it was hard not to hear the others speak. Joon's words reached Vaylin's ears easily, instilling the same curiousity in the Zabrak.

 

[Connor Harrison]

With a bemused look at [member="Aria Vale"], and the term "sufficient" wasn't exactly what she hoped for. It didn't scream confidence to the ears of the clone.

Joon stepped closer, and saw [member=Vaylin] watching intently. The Dark Side was strong in this one.

”Hopefully after this, she'll take his head,” she whispered.

 

[Poe]

​The display between the two organics was unsuspected at first, then the dawn of realization crept over her that she lacked the necessary programming to care. She wasn't their chosen leader nor was she some senator, so this squabble was between them; not her affair. She did, however, take a keen interest when the leader of the Primeval produced a dagger, then cut the offered hand of the young man. Someone needed to intervene before this escalated further, but that someone would not be her.

​Through her link with the droids, she ordered them to stand down before moving closer toward the others. Her fingertips tapped the hilt that was attached to her body, not designed as a threat but more or less out of anticipation of the upcoming events. The two that remained locked in their debate held no loyalty from her, for her only loyalty was to the Primeval; not the leader. But even she knew that chaos would surface if these two went to blows, and if this witch died then a wound would open, possibly ensuring all other Primeval followers would act to claim leadership; thrusting the whole lot into a power struggle over ownership of the Primeval.

​This she could not allow, thus she might be forced to intervene after all. So she would protect and defend the witch against this senator from the Dominion not out of loyalty, but out preserving the Primeval's existence.




[member="Joon"] l [member="Vaylin"] l [member="Aria Vale"] l [member="Boethiah"] l [member="The Slave"]

 

[Darth Empyrean]

As reality faded into the nothingness of this mirage, The Slave expressed what could only be mind exhilaration. Not in the physical, but strictly the spiritual and emotional, as he had done nearly everything in terms of hallucinogens, and this was something far beyond. Being torn asunder from his perspective and thrown into his unknown world was as new an experience as he could experience in such a time.

To those that watched however, The Slave’s gaze stayed stone cold on Boethiah. His hand fell calmly back to his side, and the two stood in intoxicating silence as the corners of his lips turned upwards. To those that watched, the only thing that was obvious of what was happening was the drips of blood that fell to the floor at his side, and the force that was tunnelling its way through his eyes. Other than that, they were simply still; a duel of stance and posture.

“I’ll bleed out long before I find what I seek.”, his spiritual voice carried through the void.

“And yet, I do. I take what I seek, except what forever eludes. You obviously know.”

The void was cold, an empty abyss that threatened to carry both of them adrift; and yet all at the same time it held them planted in a frozen position. Specks of light watched liked the crowd they were to the enigmas these two creatures were; one the spiritual reincarnation of a bygone age, the other a hedonistic liar hell bent on self destruction.

│ [member="AD-Iqatar.13"] │ @Joon │ @Vaylin │ [member="Aria Vale"] │ @Boethiah │