Private Challenges

[Nephthys Nardithi-Verd]

What one doesn't know can most certainly kill them.​

Tag: Darth Metus

"Log Entry: The Shiraya Expanse. It is a long, long journey indeed. I've no idea when this might be over. I do believe I am closer to my goal. At least I have it on good authority my direction is correct. I have made many stops along my way. I've spoken with alot of people. After some began to seem most suspicious of me, I started a different approach on how I might raise the subject of Isley Verd. The most difficult aspect is trying not to appear like I am searching, and to let people just offer to relay what I want to know. I have spent full days just bullshitting with some, talking about the amazing stories I had heard, but churning out the minutest of leads regarding the potential whereabouts of my Father. This one absolute slob of a man took a few days till he was drunk enough to let it slip that Isley Verd went to the Confederacy of Independent Systems. I am not proud of myself, about how it was I coaxed that out of him. He must have thought me a fan girl. That Mandalorian was not above seeing me play the role for him.​

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Well the Confederacy was at the center of some talk recently, regarding their wild accusations circulating of a predatory Netherworld species. I have no idea what really happened, or what is about to happen. I don't believe the story I was told, -another reason to completely hate myself for how I got that long tale told to me. It sounds like a ruse for a totally different threat. ​

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I did learn the name of the leader of the CIS was one Darth Metus. Hopefully that name might lead me to forgive myself…a little. The guy kept going back and forth between the stories he was telling. It was hard to know who exactly he was talking about, my Father or Darth Metus. I just assume they may have known one another personally. I did get that the vote was unanimous to disband the faction, stripping Darth Metus of his title. I should have known the story was all over the Holonet too, but I needed to hide away from the Ashlan Crusade juvenile detention center all the time. That Netherworld stuff could pose for one interesting side story at least. I have always been intrigued by the paranormal. Time to buckle down on my research.​

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If I can get anyone there to talk about Isley Verd, then I am hopeful that I will soon be on a solid path to finding my Father. Onward to Regnum, Verun.​

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End recording."​

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She could have taken the time to blend in with the members of the Ascendancy, to make her case for meeting Darth Metus a sincere one. Instead Nephthys Nardithi-Verd brought her ship straight to the place her informants had specified, not even anticipating that her actions could have drawn attention to her. Her patience plummeted to only a fraction of her usual personality, as the Darkside of the Force roiled throughout her soul unbridled. To get a meeting with this potential friend of her Father's, she told lies.

"Not everyone who requests a meeting with Darth Metus is welcome. Since you can prove to be a student from Dathomir, intent to study the Netherworld predators, an exception has been made for you." The guards who had escorted her along the corridor were not above her training in Persuasion. Little Miss Progeny had also concealed on her person her Lightsaber once bearing the Jedi's Natural Cyber Crystal, now empowered by the synthetic Crystal fabricated to perfection by the Sith. With help of the Force she slipped her past these guards unchecked.

The sensation of her Force Signature is unfocussed and chaotic. Her mood rests on the brink of self destruction, not by her own desire, but her lack of proper guidance since her freeing fall. Still, her steps make her appear to glide between the escorting guards. Her inner turmoil is hidden behind the performance of her smile. She believes herself to be far beyond the physical threat of imprisonment by the Ashlan Crusade, and hopes her face listed as wanted on the Holonet had not reached the depth of these stars. Should anyone stand steadfast in the path of her objective, they too shall be met with equal ambition as she had unravelled upon her false mother.​

Model: Theresa Fractale

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[Darth Metus]

Wearing: Armor of Darth Metus​

REGNUM, VERUN

The Dominus had a soft spot for Dathomir.

Several decades ago, when the Confederacy was but a daydream in his mind, Darth Metus looked upon the witch homeworld as his own refuge. During an era where he was hunted for his life, his own mother - Petra - had opened the family estate to him. Despite being a man, he was carefully hidden within the Witches. Despite being raised as an outsider, he was accepted and cared for. Educated and elevated. Thus, when the mere mention of this hallowed planet reached Regnum, the guards were favorable to the newcomer.

It was no secret that the Southern Systems had met a bitter and spontaneous end. Yet, for all of the suffering caused by the Unmaker and the corsair armada, the Galaxy seemed to care little for the actual truth. They were more content to believe rumor and tabloid hearsay - that the nation collapsed due to corruption, and not a Netherworld onslaught. That, maybe, there was a civil war that had ripped across what was once the most powerful nation in the stars. For the Ascendancy, the death of the Confederacy was their birth. And thus, the truth of the Fall earned caution on their part. They worked to ensure that the Nether never again bared its fangs against their people. And in their efforts, they ceased caring about the world outside of the Shiraya Expanse.

So it was that the perfect set of circumstances existed for the young Witch to breeze into Regnum. The Dominus' affections for her homeworld, and her claiming to be an expert on the Nether, earned her an almost spontaneous audience with the region's monarch. It was fortunate that he was in the capital and not off seeing his Legions through yet another conquest. For, now, she was ushered to the Throne. Monumental doors parted, revealing a crimson carpet running through the center of the room. At the far end was the seat of power, upon which Darth Metus sat. His dominant hand rested upon his chin, curiosity dancing within his amber eyes, as the newcomer was introduced.

The guards proclaimed the name that she had been given and nodded for her to step forward.

"Welcome to Verun." said the Sith simply. "I hope that your travels were well. Tell me, what brings you to my fair city?"

Nephthys Nardithi-Verd​

 

[Nephthys Nardithi-Verd]

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Tag: Darth Metus

At the magnitude of honor upon which sat Darth Metus gathered upon the exact moment of her entry, Little Miss Progeny immediately realized the extent of her transgression. On the inside she cursed at her mistake, the realization of her overstep caused a slight misstep in her gait. She recovered the physical manifestation of struggling with her emotion by rendering her smile.​

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On the outside he seemed entirely cordial and perhaps genuinely intrigued with her for whatever reason she could not decipher. But she doubted he could honestly be so genuinely cool, or better yet, at peace. 'Certainly this is an art form I must learn.' She had never met a Darth anyone before this very moment. If she had, and they are all like he, then she is entirely mistaken about them indeed. With all the tales of horror that had been drilled into her head by the Ashlan cult, and her own awareness of the extent of personal mayhem brewing inside of her soul, she figured for certain she would sense some semblance of her struggle existing within such a Master as a Sith, yet she did not truly see him. Perhaps she ought be thankful to have been so perplexed?​

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The thought to change her plan and simply ask this man about he whom she seeks momentarily crossed her mind. She couldn't ruin her chances now. 'What if Darth Metus is no longer friends with my Father? He might cut my trail off right here. He might be owed a debt and I will be forced to remain to pay it.' Such fears swarmed her mind, causing her eyes to cast aside in thought for a swift moment before drawing back to his and locking on. She approached him and extended him her delicate gloved hand in greeting, reaching out over the steps ascending up to his throne, while trespassing her foot upon the second step to achieve her reach.​

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"Forgive me," she said with an unusual, cross-regional accent as she withdrew, still unable to gather insight into his Force Signature. For a whole year she tried to recapture the accent of her native people. "I am unfamiliar with such customs and protocols required…practically anywhere. There are quite few on Dathomir able to provide such insight. I wholly accept your criticism on the matter," she said. "In fact, I invite it." She exhaled a quick sigh of relief before a sensation of awkwardness washed over her, the moment she realized she must continue speaking about a force she knows little about except what only days before she watched on available pre-recorded Holonet news segment archives. She really didn't have much of a clue what the Ascendancy actually saw or believes on the matter. After a brief squirm she finally decided on saying, "Well…the Warlocks Gate has caused a great portion of Dathomir to…become…engulfed by the Nether. This area exists within two realms at once." Her visage suddenly fell as she realized she has no idea to whom she just told this great and fantastic secret regarding the Nightsisters survival. "Erm… We are interested in learning about the claims of your plight firsthand, because if there is a profound hostile presence, it is a concern to our Planetary Security."​

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[Darth Metus]

Wearing: Armor of Darth Metus​

REGNUM, VERUN

Most bowed.

Upon associating his leadership with a throne and a crown, those who stood before the Dominus offered physical displays of respect. This was not something that the Sith had demanded - but rather, a willing choice on the part of his subjects. Most simply lowered themselves into a modest half-bow of respect. The common folk often sank to one knee. Darth Metus had gotten used to such displays over the past seven years; and thus his lips curved into a smile at the approach of the Witch. Though his guards stiffened as she approached, the Dominus leaned forward in his throne.

His sword hand gripped hers gingerly and rendered a polite shake whilst her accented voice reached his ears. As the woman spoke, advising that she was unfamiliar with the customs of this land - or anywhere beyond Dathomir - the Sith simply nodded in understanding. "Most bow when meeting a monarch." he began upon releasing her hand. "But, Dathomir was a refuge for me a lifetime ago. They took a sorry, young Isley Verd and sheltered him from the Galaxy's horrors. Because of this charity, I would never expect any of your people to bow before me."

He spoke, wholly unaware of the conflict which roiled within the young woman's mind. Blissfully unaware that he had answered the question which rampaged through her soul. Where was her sire? The man that she sought? Within arm's reach.

When the young woman returned to standing before the throne, she shared insight about Dathomir's recent experiences. The Warlock's Gate - one forged by the efforts of his brother Ember Rekali - had caused a portion of the world to be engulfed by the Nether. With such exposure to the other realm, the Witches no doubt had even more experience dealing with its occupants. And, the nature of her visit was made clear. If the Ascendancy was facing down a Netherworldly threat, then it naturally posed a threat to Dathomir. Any monstrosities stirred against one might slither out against the other.

"I see. I had no clue that Dathomir had been met with such a fate." he said, shaking his head remorsefully. "In brief, we are contesting against the forces of one called the Unmaker. We believe it is a Celestial of some form, but weakened. Broken. It was able to summon beasts from the Nether en masse, without warning. We were able to stop it seven years ago, but it must stay gone. That is our plight currently."

He motioned towards the young woman with his dominant hand.

"Have you any knowledge about preventing a Netherworld portal from manifesting?"

Nephthys Nardithi-Verd​

 

[Nephthys Nardithi-Verd]

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Tag: Darth Metus

The one announced to him simply as the arrival of Ana'po, meaning "the Dawn" in her native language of Paecian, experienced the strange sensation the instant he ascended to accept her hand in greeting and resettled his bones. She immediately identified him as a kindred spirit. The cuff of her sleeve shifted, bearing the full image of the tribal tattoo upon her wrist to him, a perfect replica of her Mother, Nardithi's before she was slain. The young lady paid this no mind whatsoever as her thoughts slipped a tad off focus when the King spoke of the customary homage paid to him. "Women bow to men?" she whispered as dissatisfaction stole her expression. Quickly she attempted to recover from such a negative emotional display. "No offense intended, your Majesty." 'Clearly the rest of the galaxy is mad,' she concluded in the secrecy of her own thoughts.​

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What he spoke next in his accent far different from her own, went right over her head at first. The spoken name of Isley Verd in all of the information she had dug up, had always been uttered with mispronounced regional inflection. But Darth Metus' words did not slip entirely from her comprehension. She showed him an honest sign of utmost respect by concentrating on his speech with sheer intent to fully understand his meaning. She mulled over his statement in the back of her mind, regarding his past visitation to Dathomir.​

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Nephthys' experience with the Nether originally left her embarrassingly dispelling her stomach contents for all to witness. Luckily she's improved dramatically, so long as she closes her eyes while initially transporting over the threshold between realms. What this Faction needs however, she is far from experienced enough to provide. The only one grand enough to ever accomplish such an amazing feat as to close a porthole would be the Sith Darth Prazutis . The young witch suddenly felt foolish for the way she presented herself. She has never heard of this particular entity. There is no way she could even begin to pretend to have experience enough to pull this off!​

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"I studied a few years under the recently deceased Nightsister PomStychTivé," she announced with great reverence to her Late Priestess. No doubt a shock to this King who has Spasa currently under his employ, living evidence of one soul having branched off into two separate physical lifelines. Nephthys was there when her Mistress met her horrific end. She shuddered under a pang of heartache, but kept her composure. "She believed everything is possible with the right magick, especially that all demigods can be subjugated. I would be honored to assist you in your attempt to discover just what magick you might require to accomplish your desire." While such words held truth to the bearer, the young lady had little experience with their success to date. She would love to be able to trust in them more fully than their being mere heresy spoken from her idol.​

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Her mind once again echoed the words which he recently spoke. 'Isley Verd. That's how the Mandalorian pronounced the very name!' Nephthys' brows raised as she spoke once again. "Forgive me. You mentioned the name Isley Verd. I am familiar with the name of one similar, His-LAY'-hi V'erd, as one who visited Dathomir near two decades ago. Could it be the same man who you referred to having spent your time with on Dathomir long ago?" She was pleased to identify endearment in his tone when he had referenced the man, and Dathomir. She felt a relief wash over her, and suspected she might openly speak the nature of her presence, aside from her new commitment to assist. Patience is a well practiced virtue of her nature. She has waited so long for answers. She knows that Darth Metus had been his friend! With cool composure, she stands before this King, while inside her soul she struggles to retain her placid composure. With passion rooted in her voice, she pledged, "If so, I have a personal desire to locate him. I would pledge my lifetime in your service to assist you in the discovery of the answers you seek regarding the Nether porthole; in exchange, I request information that shall lead to successful contact with the specific Isley Verd who was known by the Late Nightsister Nardithi."​

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[Darth Metus]

REGNUM, VERUN

The Dominus' gaze was watchful.

A lifetime ago, when Darth Metus took shelter on Dathomir, he was introduced to the importance of minute detail. In the modern Galaxy, one might dismiss tattoos as merely a personal aesthetic. But the home of the Witches gave them special significance. They were identifiers of family, of skill, of traits, and of power. By ignoring the deliberate markings upon their flesh, one might unknowingly trifle with one who can move mountains. Such were the lessons conferred by the Sith's mother, Petra Cavataio, all those years ago. And so it was that the Dominus took notice of the marks upon the woman's flesh. He spoke nothing of his recognition, but knew it anywhere. For, during those days of shelter, he knew one under the stars. He snatched for himself a scrap of happiness despite exile and despite being hunted.

Thus, Darth Metus smiled genuinely as the woman shook his head. And chuckled earnestly at her surprise - for in Dathomir, women were always the superiors. To bow before a man was unheard of, even as a jest.

"None taken," he began, "you'll find that the Galaxy is quite different than Dathomir in countless ways. One being that men can, at times, hold rank over women. Or stand as equals with them."

With the glimpse of the modern world freely given, the Sith conveyed the needs of his people. In turn, the young woman uttered a name he had not heard in quite some time. At present, a lighter sibling of the priestess aided his empire. But Darth Metus had not spoken to Pom directly since their parting of ways. "Ahh, what a small Galaxy." he said. "Pom was once a pupil of mine. If you studied under her, I have no doubts that your talents are immense. We certainly welcome any wisdom you may offer. I will put you in contact with the Medjai Order, our local specialists on the Force. They are heading our research on how to prevent the Unmaker's return and will be able to best guide our collective effort."

When the young woman spoke once more, she said his name in a way he had nearly forgotten. The heavily accented voices of Dathomir never truly cared for pronouncing his name correctly - especially since he was a man. So Isley was pronounced closer to His-haley. Nonetheless, as the woman spoke, he immediately knew she was referring to him. And she was...looking for him. With enough eagerness that she was willing to pledge a lifetime of service to him.

"A lifetime of service won't be necessary, as there is no quest nor further effort required. The name of my birth is Isley Verd. As you know, I took refuge on Dathomir about that time...about two decades ago."

His smile wavered for a moment. The marking upon her arm was familiar. That name...her name. That moment of happiness so long ago. But...the late...

"Sister Nardithi is gone then...and you are kin to her, is that correct? I am...truly sorry for your loss."​

Nephthys Nardithi-Verd​

 

[Nephthys Nardithi-Verd]

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Tag: Darth Metus

"He's gotta be some pretty phenomenal man to earn a bow from me!" she blurted instinctively, followed by a stifled smile. She doesn't mean to offend, and all she seemed to do it just that. Luckily for her, she at least possesses the sense to suspect when she overstepped. She wonders if her Father is at all like the man before her, since they had been friends afterall. She wondered too if to be a King for a man, is a position of elevation likened to the most powerful of Priestesses upon Dathomir. She marveled for a moment about what remarkable skills this man might possess. She decided she would definitely inquire about them, when the time is right.​

"I studied under my Mistress for a few years. Before that, I was…" she paused. She could see and hear her past trapped within the religious cult come alive again inside her mind, as if those days are ongoing here and now, forever inescapable. "…misplaced." She felt both surprise and overjoyed that despite lacking the knowhow to close a porthole as of yet, she has been granted permission to become involved. Her relief showed in a broad smile. She resolved to live up to the expectations she had created.​

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Her mind recalled how Mother never spoke ill of her Father. In fact, a look of longing always seemed to captivate her Mother, whenever she spoke of him. She felt him worthy, and let everyone know how much she missed him after he had gone off to a greater calling.​

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Nephthys listened intently as her new acquaintance expanded upon the details of his identity. It took a second before his words truly registered. Shock at his meaning caused her spirit to succumb to emotion, eminent in a profound gasp. She froze. Her eyes bore into his, so much like her own. Her hands trembled and she did not possess the ability to further compose herself. "You are Isley Verd," she declared, calling out his name exactly as he had just pronounced it.​

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Her voice trembled with emotion, and her eyes revealed her pain. "The Ashlan Crusade killed my Mother so that they might…save me from what I am," she finished with a coldness to her words, a lifelong vow for vengeance. She remembers the seemingly ceaseless prayers she was forced to recite, oaths she made to worship their goddess…a mere cosmic energy tool to make subjugate to the will of a Nightsister, of all beings!​

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"I am Nephthys," she announced. She brought her hands up to her face to hide her tears, while she slowly dropped down upon one knee before her Father and King.​

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[Darth Metus]

REGNUM, VERUN

The Dominus laughed.

It was increasingly evident that the gift of youth yet resided within the woman. While Dathomir was not a world of courts and lords, there was still a pecking order. Still decorum. Yet the younger among the sisterhood did have a little bit more leeway. Back when the Sith lived among them, it was not uncommon to see similar to the words of the Witch being blurted over the bonfire. And there was never animosity during these occasions - only care. So it was that Darth Metus laughed as she smiled. "My House has a saying - bow to nothing - I see we keep the same attitude."

It was refreshing to speak to one of Dathomir's own again, even though the circumstances which brought them together were dire. The Dominus found it easy to smile and to laugh with the young woman, even though she was a complete stranger. She remarked about her tutelage under Pom for a moment, but all seemed to be in agreement. "Any knowledge, even a crumb, is valuable to our efforts. You have my sincere thanks."

Ah, but then the question of who he was came into play. Darth Metus stated plainly that he was Isley Verd - but the affect of which he did not anticipate. There was no mirth in her expression. Her hands trembled. She declared his name, void of any accent. As he would have said it. As those who cared enough to learn his name on Dathomir would have said it. Her response caused him to lean forward in his throne ever so slightly, a mixture of concern and confusion claiming his features.

She then voiced her pain. Her mother - a shred of his happiness from a lifetime ago - was killed. In the waning days of the Confederacy, he heard of the Ashlan Crusade. Heard of their zealotry - but was never in a position to acknowledge their actions. Had he known then...The fingers of his dominant hand coiled into a fist. But, another question popped into the man's mind. Why was she reeling at the mention of his name? Sure, he and her mother had a history but...Wait. Two decades ago...just how old did this woman appear?

The pieces fell into place.

His eyes widened ever so slightly as she sank to one knee. He stepped closer as her hands covered her face. Saying nothing, he removed the hooded cloak from his shoulders - the one bearing the Ram's Skull, sigil of his House. "Nephtys." he said, offering a light smile. The cloak was then draped about her shoulders as he took a knee before her. "My children do not bow, even before their own father."​

Nephthys Nardithi-Verd​

 

[Nephthys Nardithi-Verd]

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Tag: Darth Metus

Her emotion roiled within her, a plethora of abundant pain and release. For years, she mulled over the anger of what the cult had put her through and felt only fleeting satisfaction as she burned her immediate oppressors alive. She had not truly ever imagined how it would feel to actually find her Father. She never anticipated a good feeling. Anything terrible she imagined could have happened. He could have been dead. He could have been an nerf herder. He could have been anything far worse! It had been so very long since she could remember experiencing joy that her feelings baffled her. The release felt so good! "I've never cried because I'm happy before!" she said as she continued to bawl her eyes out, unable to raise the energy to rise off the floor.​

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He came down to her level to meet her, and draped his own royal cloak over her…after she had lied to be welcomed into his presence. 'OH GOD! What if he doesn't realize!' Regardless of reading the moment, it just has to be said before this gets worse! "I lied," she wailed. "I don't know how to do any of that stuff. I puke when I Apparate. I'm sooo sooorry! Please, don't send me away!" She cried enough for all the years she held it all in, when she believed this moment could be nothing more than an unattainable fairytale!​

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She glanced up at his soft expression and quickly leapt into his strong arms, burying her face into his shoulder. She picked up on the Force as it raged deep within his core. It felt like home there, a feeling she had forgotten. After the jedi fanatics destroyed her life, she unwittingly ran away from a good thing whenever it had presented, in order to survive the foreseeable pain of a potential but profound loss. The Nightsisters provided a sense of family as best they could while she stayed with them, but she resisted forging a true connection with them as they reminded her so much of her Mother. She came here, truly believing she might never get close to this man, or that he might reject her. But he accepted her. 'Now what?' It's all alien to her to actually allow herself to experience such profound emotions. She is pretty sure that he probably did not expect this…whole mess!​

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She isn't accustomed to men who render a kindness. Lust truly is an abusive emotion, and the expectation is taught early on, to know men, causes hurt. Honesty, or just being herself around any man, she never truly believed was a possibility. Yet here she is…emotionally unbridled, where she cannot lie to herself, and it doesn't even feel as awkward as she suspects it should. She had to grow up so fast early on, dealing with psycho people, and now she can exhale and unravel. It was like a bomb went off and that bomb was herself. Thankfully, it was such a powerful relief that she didn't need it to last forever. She did eventually recover her composure, but she wasn't willing to let go of her Father too quickly.​

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"I found Isley Verd," she told herself aloud to help it sink in. She lightly pinched his cheek to prove to herself that he is real. Then she kissed it before trying to stand once again, while drying her face in the ends of the fabric of his cloak.​

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[Darth Metus]

REGNUM, VERUN

When the Sith settled upon one knee, all he could see was Her.

Though obscured by her hands and weeping eyes, her mother yet lived on. She lived in her eyes. Lived in her cheeks. Lived in even her voice. Darth Metus was surprised that he did not see this before - mark just who she was upon the instant she walked into the throne room. He had missed out on so much...an entire upbringing had gone. But, there was still time. He still had life in him, life aplenty to give, and he would fill the void that belonged to him if she allowed.

And then she blurted out the truth. She knew nothing about stopping the Unmaker and very little in the way of her people's talents. The Sith simply shook his head, chuckling. "It's far easier to get in the door with what you said. If you told the guards you were my child, they would have laughed." His dominant hand reached up and gingerly brushed away some of the stray tears. "You did what you had to. Now you're home. You're saf-"

He suddenly found her arms around him, for she leapt into his arms. Darth Metus fell onto his backside, but embraced her all the same. He could only imagine how difficult the path had been. Contesting with the Crusade was difficult enough, but to find him? All the way out here? An embrace was the least he could do. Soon thereafter, she pinched him to make sure he was real before rising back to her feet. Darth Metus chuckled aloud for a moment whilst watching her.

"I take all this to mean you'll stay, yes?" he began, rising to his feet.​

Nephthys Nardithi-Verd​

 

[Nephthys Nardithi-Verd]

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Tag: Darth Metus

She had spout a barrel of lies to her blood-bonded elder and he instantly forgave her. She was handed no penance, only his understanding in regard to her reasoning. Her intrigue for this man instantly multiplied. She thought him different from any men she knows. She has yet to realize that it is Dathomir that doesn't necessarily possess the proper reputation to attract the best of men from across the galaxy. Once in a while, a Nightsister is successful; but then again, most don't play for keeps. Nephthys is still at a youthful age when her experience is not all that extensive. That is probably the only benefit of her having been locked up in an Ashlan Crusade youth rehabilitation center.

Before she made it this far, she had met not only a rather unappealing man, but an absolutely revolting drunkard in a rather repulsive bar. To much her distaste, this man proposed a trade for a small tidbit of information in exchange for Nephthys' undivided attention. All he could inform Nephthys in the end was that Darth Metus and Isley Verd had once been close friends quite some time ago. She definitely won't be talking about the events of her evening with that guy any time soon, but sure would find it endearing to learn that good dads do indeed care for their daughters in ways she never knew. "I didn't have my facts straight," she told him, extending him a hand to help him up. She really had no idea where she would find her Father. "I had no idea that my journey would end with you." she admitted. She hadn't felt safe any time in her life, since before she had lost her Mother.

"A King?! I'd say I think I am dreaming, but I couldn't dream this up." She declared as she gazed around the throne room. "Did you know about me?" she asked him without hesitation. She recalled an early memory of a man towering over her as he spoke to her Mother. She always imagined that man could have been her Father.

He welcomed her without question. Her thoughts drifted to many different things, then to wondering how many people are in her family she has yet to meet. She felt electrified with uncontainable happiness. "I can stay! I have a family?!"There is so much she wants to know, about his life, everything, anything he will share.''Have I brothers and sisters? Are you married now? Do I have a Mother too? You ought to be married; just look at you!" She would shamelessly build up his ego if he required encouragement. He is the only man she knew she could respect today. She waited long enough to meet him. She spent every waking moment building him up inside her head. Her Mother kept a journal filled with the story of their relationship. She shall have to remember to pass it onto him later on.

She gripped onto his hand and for a moment closed her eyes, taking in a sense of who he is. She said finally, "You are a Darth. What is your focus? I bet its everything! Isn't it? You will teach me won't you?" She could have rambled on and on, but she gave him a moment in between her questions to listen intently to his answers.

After all the informalities she will want to learn all she can about this galactic threat, which really could make its way to Dathomir, or anywhere else there is a porthole. Right here is the most important place to be, to assure her Father's home…also her home, is safe from this entity.

She wants to go and see all of their home too.
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[Darth Metus]

REGNUM, VERUN

I didn't have my facts straight.

This was so often the case when it came to his offspring. When the Dominus was simply a young mercenary, he did as hot-blooded warriors did. Wherever there was coin, he fought. Wherever there was comfort, he laid. The consequences of his reckless behavior manifested as a generation that was scattered about the stars. But, to the Sith's credit, whenever one of his own wandered into his life, they would always find a home. They were not mistakes. They were royalty. As the young woman spoke, she offered the Sith Lord her hand and Darth Metus eagerly took it. "I'd say that your journey is only just beginning." he said beaming. "There's so much for you here. So much that you can do and learn.."

The question which came after was a valid one. One that would have made her life read differently had his answer been different. Sadly, the Dominus shook his head lightly. "I did not." he began. "When I met your mother, my life was in shambles. My own mother - your grandmother - called me back to Dathomir to wait out the fires. It was there that we met, and there that you were conceived. Your mother knew I was only waiting to leave, as my place not on Dathomir forever. I...lost track of the amount of times I asked her to come with me.." His gaze wandered for a moment, fondly recalling those days. Things were far simpler then.

"But, she decided to stay. We kept in contact, I'd assume after you were born...but she never told me. I think she kept you a secret so that I wouldn't come back. So that I'd continue following my dreams." A sigh fell from his lips. "I wish she hadn't."

But, while the moment was bittersweet, the young woman was electric. She was overjoyed at his request for her to stay, which caused his frown to disappear immediately. "Of course you can stay." he began. "And you don't just have a family. You have a large family. Brothers, sisters, nieces, nephews, even an aunt. All who live right here."

"As far as a mother goes, yes, I am married. You'll meet her too. Her name is Darth Elyria , and she adores children. Bring her something sweet and she'll adore you forever." He made sure not to mention his lover's aversion to anything remotely technological. But, being that his newfound daughter was from Dathomir, perhaps they would be kindred spirits at trying to figure out the oven's clock.

For a moment there was quiet as his daughter held his hand. Instinctively, Darth Metus offered a light squeeze in response. When she spoke again, she asked of his might. Of his direction. "To push the Darkness to its absolute limit." he answered simply. "So, it is a little bit of everything. And I'd be happy to teach you. But first, we'll need to get you settled. Did you have a lot of belongings?"

Nephthys Nardithi-Verd​

 

[Nephthys Nardithi-Verd]

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Tag: Darth Metus

Only weeks ago had Nephthys arrived in Ascendancy space when a rollercoaster of change affected many aspects of her life. She found her perception of the galaxy at large changing. She recognized that the Nightsisters honed their focus on their craft so intently, that they truly held little curiosities about any other aspects of creation. They fought tooth and nail against outsiders to keep all influence away, sentencing many to death without so much as a single question as to why they came. To protect their heritage from change, the Nightsisters slipped into the shadows of the Netherworld with their most coveted secrets. The Ashlan Crusade were far worse, their being radical terrorists with a life mission set to impose their doctrine upon all others'. Those who reject the tenets of the Ashla face immediate genocide. It was not difficult for Nephthys to form her own sense of values, once outside the reach of these two very different cultures. She is open to learning so much more about anything, and she wants her Father to know this. She planned to whole heartedly devote herself to any task he assigns her. She hopes to not simply be dealt the pride which she hears in his voice, but to justly earn it from him.​

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Her Father shared his story of how his life crossed paths with her Mother's. He could not know how much the delicate tone by which he spoke soothed a long needed salve over her heart. She had not expected any present endearment to surface, especially not from a presently married man who never even wed her Mother. Her Father spoke in such a personal manner, which supported her Mother's claims in her journals, and any question Nephthys had over the validity of her existence died by the time he finished his recollection. She hadn't counted on finding healing, yet here it presented. How much more she cursed the Ashlan Crusaders for stealing her life! How they caused her to suffer. She would forever feel their sting.​

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Living among the Nightsisters came at a price, that being one's dedication to learn fervently, and in turn produce Magick for the needs of the whole. Nightsisters were taught basics in the cradle, as was Nephthys. Luckily her roots could not be severed from her soul, nor her memory. Those who could not evolve in natural talent would be cast to the wayside of the covens. They would agree to serve in menial tasks or be excommunicated. Darth Metus made no such stipulations when he welcomed Nephthys into his large family. She could not help but tear at the mention of all of them, especially at the fact that life once again granted her a Mother in Darth Elyria , someone who she imagines might be willing to help her mature into the best woman she can possibly become. There are things that only a woman can teach a young girl. Darth Metus offered to teach her how to protect herself, lessons which all Father's should teach their daughters. Such lessons however, while imperative, shall not begin today, for there is much to see and family to meet!​

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Her Father inquired about her belongings on her ship, what they might entail. She would not just remit them to anyone. "I feel I have quite an impressive apothecary, which I began during my stay with the Nightsisters. But I would not prefer anyone assist me in moving it indoors. I currently have produced the forth out of seven brewing stages of Necrotic Salts that I began many months ago. It needs a delicate hand for it's quite volatile." She thought for a moment before she inquired, "I do prefer a test subject at some point to assure the outcome before continuing; I would hate to waste further time and precious ingredients on a failed stage. I have run my controls, but they are a bit indeterminable until its full completion. You do have prisoners here? You do allow for test subjects?" She isn't certain if what she asked will be received as normal or not, for such is the way of both the Ashlan Crusade and the Nightsisters, which hasn't been reliable to gage normalcy thus far. She figures Darth Metus did just confess to pushing the Darkness to its limit, and Nephthys knows that success comes at a cost, either to experiment on prisoners, or possibly one's self if unable to do that. Most Sith aren't crazy enough to go into the field, which is typically a battlefield, without having tested his skills on prisoners. It would do her good to learn the Law of the land from the start.​

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[Darth Metus]

As the young Witch spoke of her belongings, the Sith before her beamed. It was hard not to - for her words made him think of his own talents. Darth Metus would not take a single crumb of credit for her natural inclinations, but he would afford himself an inkling of amusement at the similarities. While they had gone an entire lifetime without knowing the other, both had an inclination for the alchemy. The young Witch, it seemed, preferred to blend the bounties of nature together as potions, salves, and necrotic salts. Whereas Darth Metus' specialities laid in metallurgies.

Yet, even though their specializations differed, there was one common ground. They both didn't like others touching their projects. That thought alone caused the Sith's smile to widen. "I'll see to it that you have a tower of your own to house your works, then." he began, offering her a nod. "I completely understand how delicate your works can be - and how irksome others touching can be - but let me know if there is anything I can do to make the move easier."

With that said, Nepthtys inquired about live specimens for her work. She was truly her father's daughter. While citizens of the Ascendancy would never have to worry about suffering such a fate, the enemies beyond their borders might. Prisoners of conflict from the Khanate and the Bando Gora were kept in a...special...dungeon underneath the palace. Mostly, they were kept for interrogation. But, if ever the Dominus had a new creation to try, he had the blood and meat to do so.

So, he nodded simply. "Enemies of the state are in the dungeon, you'll have full access for your experiments." he answered. "Perhaps...we can work together on a project? I think it'd be a perfect opportunity for learning." Both about each other, and for the Sith to pass knowledge onto his daughter.

Nephthys Nardithi-Verd​

 

[Nephthys Nardithi-Verd]

~?!!​

Tag: Darth Metus

The growing look of interest in her Father's face did not escape her and Nephthys smiled back at him in return. He mentioned allowing her a workspace in one of his towers. 'A tower?' she pondered. 'Not just a tower, but a tower of my own?' The young witch's eyes lit up in humble astonishment as her mouth dropped agape. In his offer, she understood explicitly what trust he bestowed upon her. To be permitted a tower for one's workspace, rather than the dungeons, meant her Father trusts implicitly in her skills. It hit her, this example of what it means to be family. She learned alot living with the Nightsisters, but she felt detached in the end; it wasn't anything of their doing but her own desire to find her direct bloodline. Her Father trusts in her ability more than any she has ever known before, enough to give her a tower…a tower, where if she were to cause an industrial explosion, everyone in the vicinity below would possibly be eradicated in her fallout. She just stood there, as a queer look of astonishment blossomed, followed by a twinge of probable fear. His is alot of faith to live up to! She did not know how to answer him, besides choking back her current pantomime.​

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He offered his help with moving her potions, after she just told him she prefers to do the task herself. "Oh I didn't mean you couldn't touch them!" she quickly remarked realizing her insinuation. "I have a feeling you know exactly what I am talking about though!" She could just tell he likely shares her sentiment over the sacredness of one's life work. "Its secure under a temporal bio-dome, but I could use a hefty hover cart. My skill in Levitation is not as steady as I require for something so delicate."​

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Her thoughts drifted for a moment. She will be happy to get off her ship; she couldn't figure out how to program the computer's Star Date and Time. Any longer onboard and she might truly ruin her potion should she be forced to continue her work under those conditions. "I will require a universal clock that can interpret Dathomir's lunar clock to our present hours."​

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She thought how much she could not wait to learn what types of skills her new Mother possesses. She then wondered by what name she ought address his wife. She decided she would inquire when the time presented itself.​

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His daughter squeed at the confirmation of permission to perform prisoner experimentations. "YES!" She is very, very delighted that her Father shares her commitment to advance the Sciences! "Wonderful! So glad we see eye to eye." How much Magickal advancement is destroyed by intrusive demands for unearned compassion for one's enemies; what a joke!​

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Her Father offered they work side by side on a project, Nephthys' eyes lit up all the more. "I will be honored to learn everything I may from you. Do you have a project in mind? I am fine to show you Necrotic Salts. My Late Mistress used it in battle against a Jedi whom she said was overly snarky. His name was Jax Thio . He literally died, then came back to life without arms or legs…"(maybe.) "The Salts caused immediate necrosis. She made it her life's work to perfect the creation of the mineral; I am honored to continue her studies. I will be honored, Father, if you and I create such a pact, as well."​

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