Private Breaking Bad // Going Good

[Damsy Callat]

I N V E S T I G A T E​

Location: Somewhere on Dathomir​

Wearing: ~ x ~​

Tag: Zeren​

Dathomir was a hop, skip, and a rickety hyperspace jump away from the Yavin system by stolen civilian freighter. Damsy was still astounded it hadn’t ripped apart in transit. She had been fully prepared to learn if she could shift and subsequently swim in the starsea, though she was also very aware the answer would very likely be an emphatic and resounding, not to mention deadly, no.​

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Finding the Melodies on Yavin 8 had been nothing short of magical. Synann’s pod had been everything Damsy didn’t know Kamino had been missing. Swimming with them felt as if the shadow that had always stalked the water under her had finally sprouted a tail flute all its own and multiplied. They were no longer mirrors of her either, beautiful merefolk visions of what she might have been if not tainted with Shi’ido blood. Her own self-judgments notwithstanding though, they took her as she was – shark tail, barbs and talons, scaly bits and blubbery bits.​

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She might have been squaloid, and them ichthyoid, but each were aquatic near-humans, and Damsy knew that those were few and far between in the known galaxy. She had travelled reasonably far and wide when shifted, on her cartilage legs, but the Melodie acted instinctually as if they knew the same though they hadn’t nor could. Still, it was not lost on them that Damsy was fundamentally different and in that an outsider, but also the same. They might well have all came of Sith alchemy.​

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Months had stretched on as years, but not even unaltered elation for the marine society she never had purged the memories of where she had been or why she was here. The Confederacy loomed behind her physically like a blanket of storm clouds, but always above her too emotionally like a saberjowl evermore stalking the panthalassa – waiting for the Siren of Kamino to finally tire and sink.​

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Or to return, but nothing would bring her back to the Confederacy – not even Jorgen and the others Rodia had taken from her risen from the dead.​

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Well, actually, especially not that. The one thought Damsy could stomach even less than her four men and one woman being dead was their being solanceae thralls somewhere. It made the sithspawn’s skin crawl, and that was saying something. Her squaloid form normally had that effect on other people.​

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How about a séance?​

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She had had the thought one day while perusing a coral reef. She swore she had seen the face of her dearest departed chiseled out of organism. The idea didn’t upset her stomach quite so much. It did a little, but for an altogether different reason: excitement rather than disgust. She had thus dragged herself out of the water for the anticipated good of those she had left the Dauntless for and, after another painful metamorphosis she had vowed only months before never again to experience and farewells just as jarring, departed for the witchy and warlocky homeworld. ​

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[Zeren]

Location: Forests of Dathomir.
Wearing: XxX.
Weapons: Lightsabers.
Tagging: Damsy Callat

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There was no magnificent palace here in his seat of power. No masses of servants flocking to tend to opulent needs, no weakling warriors guarding treasures he could not guard on his own. For the monster that reigned this piece of the land needed no hand made glorification. There was only the Darkness and himself. He held no ambitions beyond despair and destruction. No wants pulled his focus from giving in purely and entirely to the throes of the blackest darkness, from turning it against all that were cursed with crossing his path. He needed no tall walls or brain washed thralls to protect him. Only pain, death, and destruction. Hunting, torture, and war.

He was darkness made flesh.

The hulking man sat atop a rock in a deep lake, confined in a clearing deep within the forests of Dathomir. This place had seen him grow, now it saw him rule. His shadow would reach far into the trees and mountains, tying nature itself to himself. Then there would be silence, faintness, his presence growing too thin to be felt even if it was spread wide - and he would slumber. The Sith Lord had no use for energy, no reason to move if it was not in the name of the Dark. Immense power took a price, and this was his. A husk of a being, that could turn into itself only when fueled by ire and hate.

Even the formidable witches of this planet knew to stay away from the Seeker and his lands. Some clans regarded him as a demon, others as a god, a few of them compared him to the mythical Sleeper - lying in wait to be summoned. Except he did not respond to the call of novitiate sorceresses. Whether they viewed him as monster, king, or god, none dared get close, for all would meet the same terrible fate. Instead, the witches had set up totems and altars. Some warning of his presence, others an attempt at winning his favor, many useless trinkets supposed to ward him off.

The Sith Lord did not care. He only laid in wait, like a spider perched on its net. The hulking man's torso was bared, revealing a skin that was too stretched over brutish muscles, pale, and so scarred it was impossible to discern where one wound ended and another began. His sabers were close by his hands, and his face was covered by a hooded mask, shadows gathering around it as he always commanded them to obscure his visage. He was drifting, seething on the Darkside of the Force, waiting for something, someone, to make a terrible mistake.

And the blazing, hateful eyes of the Sith opened when he felt it. Another being in his midst. The very land seemed to shake and birds flew from their trees, a strange coldness clinging onto the air. It was nothing but a pulse. One short, firm wave of darkness to prod at this creature's mind and essence should she fail to defend against it. She had ventured into the wrong forest.

 

[Damsy Callat]

I N V E S T I G A T E​

Tag: Zeren​

. . . [T]he witchy and warlocky homeworld.

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That seemed a bit of a misnomer. Everywhere were their things, but nowhere was there a witch herself to be found; the Brothers were scarce too. If Damsy had been using a cell in her head, she might have taken as much for premonition. ​

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A warning. Some dramatic irony.​

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They knew a soul actively, albeit unconsciously, sought out the Sleeper, and they wanted no part of its rousing.​

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But she wasn't, so she didn't. Wandering through the organic and humus ground cover of the forest had began to give her its own version of apprehension, though, but not enough to turn her back. When the darkness came, she had not been quite ready for it either, for it sent her stumbling and bracing against the trunk of a nearby tree. There, she began to feel her heart beat along her forehead. "Otter karker..." she managed to mutter as she felt for the grip of her Kaminoan dartgun holstered at her belt. Her vison was blurring ever so steadily at the peripherals, and with an impairing sense she didn't trust herself to wield her electrotrident. With a sigh heavy in commitment, she elbowed off the bark and brandished the barrel of her gun before her, into the uncharted darkness. "Who's there?"​

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She faltered for but a moment. It couldn't be Jorgen, could it? The man had lived about as far away from the Darkness as one could without resigning to the monastic life of a Jedi on a backwater ball somewhere. Surely in death, he would not be suddenly steeped in it. Unless...​

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...he was angry for Talay.​

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[Zeren]

Location: Forests of Dathomir.
Wearing: XxX.
Weapons: Lightsabers.
Tagging: Damsy Callat

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This was the place that had seen him born, many years ago. In these woods he had turned from child to man, but a long time had passed since then. There was nothing left of the man now, there were only the Sith Lord and the beast. One that was nothing if not territorial of the land over which it laid claim with shadowed claws. Slowly, he allowed the ever present rage that lay dormant within him to begin to rise. It was still out there, he could sense its confusion as it failed to make the most of the one opportunity she would be given to turn back.

Then he rose, slowly, as though his body ached from being put into movement and wanted nothing more than to return to its previous position on the rock. Who knew how long he had been there, unmoving? He took one step forward, and as soon as his foot touched the surface of the water it was as though all the traces of exhaustion and pain he had just displayed had vanished. The darkness flared within him, the water unbothered by his steps as he walked over the lake like some kind of evil deity.

Jorgen.

He could hear the voices of her thoughts hanging in the air. The hilts of his sabers already in hand, ready to be put into use. It would not take him long to reach her, a colossal beast whose very presence bled terror. Soon she would wish it had been a ghost that haunted these woods - and not him. The Lord folded the force around him, obscuring him from all senses both physical and force gifted. He could feel her own connection to the Force, and before he made real the horror stories that plagued this part of Dathomir, he would find out what had been worth walking into his forbidden realm.

The Seeker, commanding the Force to hide him, would get as close to the sithspawn woman as possible, releasing his grip on the Force and showing himself as the familiar buzzing of the two blood red blades coming to life. His fiery gaze of corruption would meet hers, a monster born out of thin air that seemed to suck the life out of their very surroundings as soon as the darkness he had contained was released once again. The cruel voice that came from him sounded more best-like than human.

"Your dead friends are not here, but I can help you join them."

 

[Damsy Callat]

C O R N E R E D​

Tag: Zeren​

As soon as her eyes caught to something in the dark, all their haziness fell away and both pupils dilated. In such, the sudden influx of light from the man’s sabers seeped into her head and settled behind her temples, but she could manage to ignore the budding headache for surging adrenaline. The contacts she wore on land did not take away her natural low-light vision, but simply added farsightedness. She felt like a saberjowl had cornered her and, in most ways, it was as if one had. She muttered some expletive in Kaminoan. Not Jorgen. Got it. Nothing in her was confident that this was a mistake the enemy before her would let her correct with anything less than all of her blood – surely, reasonable words would not do.​

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"Yeah, right. Hard pass," she muttered. Even though his offer was to an extent alluring, she knew just enough of the Force to know that's not how that worked. An unprepared death would serve to reunite her with no one, and nothing but the primordial void. Questions nor consciousness would matter there, but even if they would, she would not have welcomed his blade. Her misled lust for death had not returned since her near-death experience on Dagobah. Life without it was freedom from an ever-present addiction that had tore up her heart like ingested glass. She was prepared to fight tooth and talon to never again relapse.​

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...talon? she thought as she leapt backwards to further extend the distance between herself and the sudden enemy. She glanced at the background stretching past the man to his right, and squinted. Powerful humanoid sight, perhaps even aided by a call on the Force she had not consciously made, carried her perception past the thick canopy until it gave way to slivers of moonlight dancing off smoother ground, satin-finished and dark. Water. Water. ​

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Hope liquefied. ​

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Damsy smiled a smile that barely moved her lips, and took off into the forest behind her. She'd figure out somehow to turn around.​

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