An Unholy Mother-Daughter Duo [Free-For-All Skirmish]

[Darth Grimoire]

[OOC: Attempt at restarting this character's story. Free-For-All Skirmish Thread. All are welcome Sith, Jedi, Troopers alike. Maybe last time I get to have an active Hauntruss too. ]​

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MUSIC​

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Spoiler

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mSQ3BJVMfAI​

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ARKANIA

Inhale. Exhale.

Hissing breathes of meditative rhythm echoed from Grimoire. Eyes closed, revealing inked eye-lids and lips painted red. Long black hair cascaded from her crown draped over her high-collared black tunic which itself was beneath a sleeveless cloak. Beside her, her weapon and her newly crafted armored mask, who's other half was strapped around her jaw line. With the back of her palms rested on her knees while her legs crossed over one another Grimoire - newly appointed queen of the abominations of AzaZoth - ancient homeworld of her mother Darth Hauntruss - passed between the realms of material and immaterial as she called upon the Dark Side to consume her thoughts.

Inhale. Exhale.

She had been quiet. For some time. Watching the Galaxy turn alongside her mother - who she herself vanished as well. Darth Hauntruss, always a self-occupied Sith Lord had left the face of the overt operations of the One Sith to return to a state shrouded in shadows, her more natural state. There were personal matters to attend to. One of which could be found on Arkania. A world were once she was held by Boloon Murr and placed on trail before her escape. There in the Jedi Enclave a personal item was left. She would retrieve it. And Grimoire knew it would be her task.

Inhale. Exhale.

The dark side swarmed Grimoire. It was oppressive but to those who give in to its demands it becomes pervasive and comforting. Numbing the senses into a warm rage. This darkness however, held a familiar signature. Slowly sliding her dark lids back Grimoire's fiery red eyes opened to see a black mist that burned with the same pair of eyes.

"Are you ready, my child." The voice hissed.

"Yes. Mother." Grimoire silently spoke in the force.

"Good." it replied, stretching the vowels in a gleeful whine. "Then accompany me to the bridge. There is much to discuss."

Grimoire bowed her head and the mist evaporated. She rose and placed her helmet upon her head. The mask wheezed as it clicked together locking itself into position. The skeletal faced sith apprentice pivoted on her heel and exited her chamber.

Travelling to the bridge of her mother's Sith Star Destroyer The Tormentor Grimoire came across her mother Darth Hauntruss, who was reclined in her commanders chair with her red stained fingers clasped together in her lap. Not turning to face her own daughter Darth Hauntruss spoke to her in a slithering growl.

"The Republic is sick, my dark one. It is busy with its own death." Hauntruss began, "It is inevitable. This provides us with the opportunity to strike the last Jedi Outpost I have yet to confront in my ambitions...Arkania."

"Yes, mother. Once we retrieve the amulet the Jedi took from you during your trails we can begin to rebuild." Grimoire replied.

"Yes." Hauntruss hissed. "You will retrieve it for me. While I distract and devour what pitiful resistance may be had there."

"Once more AzaZoth shall rise...and my legions...reborn...by you...my dear Grimoire."

"As you wish, mother."

[member="Darth Vornskr"]

 

[Senji Selah]

[Theme]​

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Inhale. Exhale.

Labored breathing was heard, the sound subdued through the buzzing white blizzard of Arkania as a black leather-gloved hand extended up over the edge of the pale glacier, the fingers stretching for the top. The hand grabbed tightly around the edge of the glacier and with a single forceful tug, the rest of the man the hand belonged to appeared. He fought himself over the edge and stood tall on top of the smaller ice mountain he had just climbed. The man was draped in thick black robes with elegant silver trimmings that spotted the edges of his clothes. The thick garments were supposed to protect him from the immense cold of the tundra world and they seemed to do their job well. Snow and ice covered not only the robes, but also the loose pair of black trousers and the knee high leather boots the man was wearing underneath.

Inhale. Exhale.

His breath was like thick fog in the cold, yet he did not have time to study the smoke like substance for long, the violent winds of the world dragging it elsewhere with a type ferocity he seldom saw from Mother Nature. He started to walk, the thick and newly fallen snow creaking under his boots as he walked towards what at first glance would appear as nothing more, but yet another mountain platform in the distance. However, he knew better. He could feel it. For the past year, he had searched for a historical artifact that for a time had only been legend. The Amulet of AzaZoth. He had gotten a tip regarding the location of the object and now that search had brought him here, to Arkania.

Suddenly, the man stopped in his tracks, his robes billowing around him at the sudden movement and in response to the violent winds of the blizzard. He had felt a ripple through the force, the galaxy wide power that he and many other so-called Force Sensitives had an intimate connection to. The warning had only lasted for a fraction of a second, but either way the appearance had troubled him greatly. How could anyone know of his presence here? He had made sure to cover his tracks with both ingenuity and credits; no one should have been able to follow him. He pondered. Perhaps, the warning was of another kind entirely. Perhaps no one had indeed been able to follow him and instead fate had arranged the coming trials.

Inhale. Exhale.

The man adjusted the hood he had placed over his head in protection from the relentless elements, no face seen underneath the hood as he observed the snow around him. Everything seemed peaceful, despite the harsh winds.

Instead of seeing the face under the hood. The face one would have expected from such a muscular framed individual, one would find a mask. A durasteel visor covering the front of his face, going all the way from the tip of his chin to the top of his forehead. It was silver like in its appearance, decorated with symbols and curves where the cheekbones and nose would be. Its face shaped surface was only broken by two holes for the eyes and nostrils and a few slits by the mouth to allow for easy breathing. It gave off an almost cold and perhaps even menacing look.

He glanced down towards the thick utility belt of his and past the curved lightsaber that was attached to it, grabbing a small datapad from one of the belt’s pouches. He checked the readings of his ship, a Dynamic-class freighter of the name The Paladin. It was hidden not far from where he was currently standing and as he checked the readouts, everything seemed fine. He grumbled.
No. Something was amiss. He knew it, yet he had no idea of what. Slowly, hesitant at first, he started to continue his walk forward and towards the structure in the distance. Determined, yet nervous he spoke to himself: “Lets get this over with…”

@Grimoire​