Faction [CIS] Burn It With Fire | Mandragora

[Eternal Ardor]

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A hidden wonder, tucked in an azure nebula, Rimos was a world untainted and untouched by the greater workings of a galaxy that seemed forever in turmoil. Distraught and cruel as the universe beyond may have been, this isolated world had its own battles to fight and wars to wage. For the Rimans that lived among it plains and forests and mountains, the final frontier was still a dream. Lofty aspirations to travel beyond this collection of dust and water and rock that was their home held a special place to these people. A people that had only recently launched their very first manned expedition to the largest of the four moons that orbited.

However, there was something greater at play on the surface below. A religious revolution that was quickly sweeping over the planet. And the sects that sprang up in its wake proved extreme in their belief. Devout followings of people that once worshiped and even elevated those few people who possessed supernatural abilities - so much as to the highest levels of leadership - have turned toward quite a different decree.

Now the once beloved and coveted were sought out to be ripped from this would. Belief had taken root and flourished that only the accursed and damned - the heavily afflicted - possessed such abilities. A curse, rather, from the Gods above to warp and twist their minds in some kind of foul game. Those who possessed such unimaginable and superhuman abilities were now hunted. For to purge the demons from their lands was to save their very homes and livelihoods. To allow such perversions of nature to purvey, was to sentence one’s very soul to an eternity of damnation. And that . . . that simply would not be allowed.

A cost in blood and lives was necessary for the penance of one’s soul. Was needed for the very survival of the planet in which they lived.

And so began this age of enlightenment among the Riman people. A movement that quickly swept over the vast majority of the planet rallying its many denizens to the call and belief that those with such abilities and talents were indeed possessed by demonic entities. And there was only one such cure for such things.

BURN IT WITH FIRE!

Spoiler

Mara Denko
Vereshin
Aisha
Vytal Noctura
Celeste Cavataio
Nix Scamandros
Fawn Alzi
Kasca Fen
Asher Mossa
Veronika Fleischer
Ashara Evanaris
@A’Runda
Ahron Rol
Tireya Syvare
Lunara Azure
Jorah zos Darnus
Darth Metus
Shamira Karuto

 

[Tireya Syvare]

Location: Arilia City | Detention Cell
Post: 1​

Cultist like cheers and chants could be heard at a low rumble from within the dirty, wet and withered cell Tireya had been thrown into without the slightest bit of forethought as to what health implications could have accompanied such vile conditions. But then again, why would anyone give any such consideration to one they’d decreed as possessed by some foul demonic ichor. She’d been condemned to a fait without so much as a trial, but none was needed in this day and age it seemed. Not when the enlightened declared their knowledge and orders came directly from the Gods themselves. Who could argue such a thing on a world such as Rimos? A world whose people thought themselves alone in the universe having never made contact with any from beyond their own borders.

Another volley of rampant cheers and accusing jeers rang out, causing the young woman’s hand to ball into a fist, knuckles cracking and popping as the finger curled tight. She had no words and she’d already been relieved of any and all of her possessions. Including, even, Valyra - the strange doll she always carried. The same doll she spoke to. And the same doll that would speak back. A spirit, neither malicious nor serene, yet self serving in every possible way of the saying.

It was actually for Valyra that the cultist like people cheered so vigorously. She was being held before the flames that danced their daring ensemble. Whipping and lancing this way and that, drawn about by the melody that wind conducted.

 

[Shamira Karuto]

Location: Arilia City – City Square
Tags: Tireya Syvare
Posts: 1

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Too much had changed in the past few months. Where people like Shamira, and whoever was to be burned today could have been walking free, showing off their neat tricks not too long ago, now they were forced into the shadows. Where they would be burned out, much like whatever unlucky sob was next to be burned in the square. The same square…Shamira had watched her mother and father go to die in the that first week. She had been spared by nothing more than dumb luck, having gone to the next town over to retrieve some special ingredients, only to return just in time to see the last few living moments of those she held closest. If it hadn’t been for the kind old man her parents had always treated well holding her back with a silent shake of his head and a hand on her shoulder, she might have been the entire market down for the digressions and pain these hunters had caused her.

Now, with a hair color changed to hide her identity, as well as match the fire that ever presently burned on her insides, she tried to live a life as quietly as possibly. A dinky little shack on the edge of the wilderness was all she could call home now. She barely even traveled into town anymore, too scared of being noticed or recognized as the daughter of witches to do so without a hood over her head. Yet every time there was a lynching, she came. She didn’t know why. Morbid curiosity, perhaps? It wasn’t like the novice witch could do anything against the inquisition at this point. They held the power of the state and the church in the pal of their hand. To go against them was suicide. All there was left to do was to try and survive.

Was there a possibility for her to leave the planet? Not really. Even when her parents had been alive she had rarely traveled further than a couple of tens of miles away from the capital. Leaving the planet seemed like an astronomical undertaking that she just couldn’t accomplish. She was stuck here. The planet that had become her parents grave would more than likely be her own. In a way, it was comforting. Yet she knew when the time came, and they inevitably found her, then it would not be a peaceful death. At least she would be reunited with them.

The sounds of cheers and jeers broke through the market, signaling that she was close to the center of town. The crowd that had gathered today was larger than most days. And there were more inquisition guards than usual as well. Wearing their red robes and holding their spears at the ready. Not that they ever needed to use them. The townsfolk had become so infatuated with the church’s teachings that they were ready to burn anyone they told them too. Slinking her way through the crowd, she could see that they were finishing the final preparations on the pyre, tossing a few extra pieces of wood onto the bottom.

Monsters. Poor karking sorcerer, or whomever they had cooked up to die this time. Half the time these people were just healers. They didn’t even practice offensive magic. Just thinking about it got the fire in her chest burning brighter, and the anger coursing through her veins. If it didn’t mean exposing herself, maybe she could help. And..maybe that’s what she should have been doing. Instead of hiding like a sewer rat.

Is this the life her parents would have wanted her to live?

 

[Vytal Noctura]

Many spirits cried out in terror, outrage, or an unquenchable tempest of emotion. Of them, many had cause; others were merely delusional and occupied only with their own desires at the expense of anyone else. The Mandragora, however, could not police an entire galaxy. They were not the Jedi seeking to bring peace, anxious to draw the ire of every criminal and dictator. However, there were certain circumstances, crimes, and atrocities that required their intervention. They were no Jedi, but they were also not advocates of the Sith way of strife and selfish pursuits. There was a balance to the galaxy to be maintained, and a balance to be struck in every soul. Strife was good -- in moderation.

So it came as no surprise that spirits howled from afar. Nevertheless, there was something about it that drew Vytal's attention. A quality? A volume? Some aspect that had it stand out in a sea of turbulent energies.

The Nightmother called an Assembly of the Mandragora and put to them her intention to intervene on this planet within the Confederacy. One seemingly so far removed as to have not been touched prior. One fraught with peril as a completely unknown landscape and occupied by a culture that had turned on its own. Knowledgeable men, women, and children able to commune with the spirits in peace and harmony being tortured and slain having committed no crime. It would not be stood for. She proposed to grant asylum to any that desired it. Some, perhaps, would choose to remain to fight their own battle; but the Mandragora could not change a culture over night, and so an invasion was out of the question.

An invasion they might not do, but a small number willing to save those in need could.

A rift was made and the small party set forth across the intervening distance by way of the Nether. There was much yet to be done charting safe paths through such a realm, but the primitive technology of this 'Rimos' was helpless before magick -- it was both the fastest and safest means of arrival and departure.

Once they'd set foot on the planet, Vytal had set off in the direction chosen by the spirits as having the most urgent need. She followed it to Arilia City cloaked from prying eyes. There she found the fledgling work of a spectacle. With the spirit having led her to this place, the Nightmother surmised the purpose the square would fulfill soon thereafter. Quietly, she slipped away and explored the area. It would do best to know the layout and observe the people from afar.

As the crowd gathered, she departed the square and began to ascend. Carefully, and mindful of sentries, she took up a place to look out over the fiery display below and the incensed crowd. Her eyes beheld those that stoked the flames both physically and metaphorically. Yes, she understood what had drawn the howls of the dead from this place -- a sense of injustice, disbelief, even rage. Another was set to join them soon. Vytal would bide her time; let the people demonstrate their depravity and then turn the trial back on them as they damned themselves.

Location: Overlooking the Square, Arilia City
Tag: Tireya Syvare | Shamira Karuto

 

[Maple Harte]

Armed with: Electrum Gaze

Shadow Proclamation

Longarm

Wearing:

Sniping Armor


Arrived in: The Silent Erika


She had not felt the call of Doashim in over a year. Only The Hiss of The Brain Demon in her skull.

Maple Harte had tried to fight it off, to try to reconnect with her Mandragora spirits, but the call of that monster in her sleep and its demands kept her awake and in a state of paranoia. It had gotten to the point she had just sank back into the easy bounties for a time.

Avenging witch burnings held a special place in Maple's heart. It was how she had met her friend, Alwine Daye . To try and fight off the corrupting presence of the evil spirit, Maple decided she would try to replicate one of her earlier good deeds.

One of Maple's eyes had turned sulfuerous due to her experiences on The Graveyard. Her right eye to be specific. She hid this as she dressed in her Sniping armor concealing the sign of dark side corruption under her helmet.

Unlike last time however, where she had snuck her way to rescue of Alwine, using close range, here, she would be staying nice and far, with a weapon that was fast, accurate and deadly. Three of them in fact. Maple wasn't being subtle today. These freaks who burned people for being different were about to get a taste.

The stealth equipped J-Type 327 Nubian in black chromium dived through a defenseless atmosphere, set down in an obscured clearing a click from the city and Maple hauled her somewhat clunky but lethal prototype carbine on her back with its power source, not even bothering with the stealth function. The aggressive nature of the Dark Side was affecting her judgement, making her take more risks than she should have. Maple was a very sad person because of all of this.

She did at least approach the city through an abandoned waterlock whose river had dried up long ago, taking a slow circuitous route to the square where multiple executions had already been conducted. She was about to engage in what is referred to as 'camping' in FPS terms.

Maple found an old watchtower close by after crossing through the lock. It had a single guard with a crossbow. She climbed it silently, stealthily after creeping through an empty street. His brain didn't even have a chance to register the neck snap that killed him.

Maple got her carbine, The Electrum Gaze into position, turning its scope on and sending a burst transmission.

This is Maple Harte to all Mandragora. Currently position at watchtower overlooking town square. Should be bringing whoever they're gonna kill any minute now

It had been a while since she had found the time to actively work with the witches that had inducted her. So much had erupted in her personal life. She felt somewhat good at having the chance to save others again as opposed to just killing people because they were trying to kill her.

Vytal Noctura

Tireya Syvare

Shamira Karuto

 

[Eternal Ardor]

Maple Harte | Vytal Noctura | Shamira Karuto | Tireya Syvare​

It wasn’t a bipedal being that was brought onto the ask and soot stained stone stage where the executions were to be held. Not a human, not a mutant. Not evening something that one would deem living or animated. But rather, a peculiar doll. Ragged and disfigured in shape and color, and something that seemed should have been wrought from this world long ago. However, that is exactly what it was. A doll of some kind. But beyond that, what was truly startling about this ‘doll,’ if it could honestly be called such a thing, was that is was head, absent of a body, and wrapped in some kind of coarse, blood-stained fabric. And it was a gruesome and horrific site for any unsuspecting pair of eyes to fall over.

Even so, the people amongst the growing crowd raved with anticipation - the brainwashed puppets of the church thirsty for more and more blood. And blood they would have for the church here on Rimos now failed to quench the presumably unquenchable.

“Rejoice!” The lead bishop and overseer of the public execution spouted aloud, the baritone of his voice carrying out of the crowd. “Today, we not only appease the will of the Gods with by exercising a single demon from this world, but by cleansing our home of two! These foul beast will be ripped from their material forms and their tainted and corrupt spirits purified as only the kiss of fire can purvey!”

His boast was met with thunderous applause for the assembling crowd whose numbers only continued to grow. Jeers and shouts of the spirits’ condemnations washed over the area as a tidal wave, only falling to silence once again upon the Bishop’s raising of an arm.

“But even more special than that is this,” he paused a moment, ushering an open palm toward the crudely fashioned, wrapped skull being tied to the stake to his rear. “Thing.” The word rang out with a tangible disgust as though the object vexed him on a personal level. “I present to you a special cleansing. This may have a gruesome outward appearance, but I promise you, what’s held on the inside is truly more condemning. A demonic possession, yet the foul spirit was unlucky enough as to shackled itself to the mere textile nature of this skull.”

The pause the would follow was quickly filled once more by way of various interjections from the lustful crowd.

“Shall we untether this foul demon of its shackles and see it forever departed into its rightful plain of existence?”

The question needed no answer, but was met with a fanfare of affirmation as the Bishop was handed a torch, blazing with its red-orange glow. It would only be seconds later that the flame would touch the tinder that found itself intertwined with the planks of wood enveloping the stake where the doll had been previously tied. Plumes of smoke began to rise followed swiftly by flames that would dance in their ever chaotic and unrehearsed nature. More and more, they would grow until they became a raging inferno kissed at the bloodstained fabric that enclosed the skull inside.

It was then that a banshee-like wail was heard, though its very origins seemed to come from everywhere, and nowhere, all at the same time. The painful shrill sending the denizens that had gathered to their knees, clutching pleadingly to their ear in anguish. Praying for the moment it would halt. And though it may have seemed far longer, the blood curdling scream lasted only a few mere seconds before vanishing into nothing.

The first of the day was complete, with yet another to soon follow.

 

[Tireya Syvare]

Maple Harte | Vytal Noctura | Shamira Karuto​

Being condemned for simply being what you were was something someone could never grow accustomed to. Especially not when at one time they’d been accepted and commended for it and now were about to have their lives striupped away from them because of it. The rage, confusion, helpless and other depression that would sweep over a person for simply being themselves in a world whose ideology had now flipped so crudely. But it was her life, now, and something Tireya could run from no longer. This perverse ideology of this cultist religion that had swept over Rimos now seeing her in chains and confined to a small, wet cage as though she was some sickly animal. In many ways, this is how Tireya imagined it must be like to be a slave. Unable to think nor act freely. And unable to be what you were, only what this new churched decreed you could be.

Now, she’d been shackled and beaten. Bloodied and bruised. Her cuts across her back still seeped blood from where the whip has lashed him. The blood poured from her nose and spat from her mouth, her eye was swollen, dark and bruised from the beating her captors had wrought upon her. Yet still, she smiled through the pain from her knees. Her arms were clutched uncomfortably in front of her body, still shackled in the chains.

Outside, she heard as thunder cracked maliciously overhead, and grimaced as a cold shrill swept over the city, a product of Valyra’s condemnation. The summary execution that was to take place to start things off before the next unfortunate souls would hear their own calls.

But . . .

Time passed slowly here, especially when you were shackled - bloodied and bruised. The thunderous roar of the crowd as the spectacles of fire and ash washed over them grew to deafening levels at points, being subdued only in times of monologue and between pivotal points of the executions the mongrels that had come to infect Rimos rejoiced to see. Tireya scoffed and grimaced as she picked herself back to her feet just as the pounding of the metal door erupted around her insignificant cell. It grinded and creaked as it opened, allowing for two armed and armored guards to file into the chamber followed closely by some old hag - likely the next raving lunatic sent to torture her. It seemed she was a commodity to be had by all as this had been the third of these hellish goons to make an effort to expend some form of cruelty upon her since she was thrown into the hell. Beaten, shackled, eat, repeat. It was the life she’d come to know quite well and as this new feral mistress came to look upon her as some sort of prized possession, she scowled and spit to the floor next to herself, an action not well received by one of the two guards as evidenced when he laid into Tireya’s abdomen with a plated fist.

Tireya grunted before letting out a string of curses in some alien and incomprehensible tongue, which turned out to be an act the other guard seemed to take offense to as he wailed a heavy, wrapped fist across her jaw. Blood spattered upon the ground to her right as it flew out of her mouth with the impact. She smiled, mocking both of the guards’ actions, even so far as letting out a small chuckle. But that was when the craven woman, rounded her so that Tireya’s eyes would fall upon her repulsive figure. She looked – well – a lot like how this place smelled. And needless to say, it wasn’t what someone would want to be compared to. She certainly was not pleasant to behold with sickly, amber eyes and aged skin so pale you could see every vein that pumped blood throughout her frail frame. Wispy, unkept, graying hair fought to free itself from the caress of her dull, gray robes which were trimmed in an unpolished gold color. She reached out a crooked, thin hand and caressed the side of Tireya’s face with it, lifting her head until Tireya’s eyes met her own. A chill ran down Tireya’s spine as she was forced to endure it as she remained shackled.

“Such a beauty, but tainted and absconded by the foul nature of a vile demon. Such a shame, but such is the way. Our Gods demand retribution for such misdeeds and malignant practices. And delving into the practices of those that would wish for nothing more than to forever cascade your soul with strife and suffering is just one such practice. There is no forgiveness in the eyes of the Gods for such sins and as such we are left with no other option than to carry out their judgment.” Her crooked finger slithered over Tireya’s face, the long, sharp nail causing an abrasion over the surface of Tireya’s fair skin. “It is not my wish for you to die, child. But it is what our Gods demand."

But it was then that a fevered chill swept over the place, carrying with it an ominous fortitude. Yet also, it was quite familiar to the one who found herself in chains. And it was something she welcomed with open arms. And soon, the spirit of Valyra filled the place before finding sanctuary as part of Tireya.

The two had now combined and appeared to possess a symbiotic relationship.

“And if I am this monstrosity you accuse me of being, do you really think these chains could ever contain me? “

 

[Vytal Noctura]

Cloaked in midnight, the Witch the crowd below feared watched. They and their pitiable gods would not see Vytal as she stood high overhead with an unobstructed view of the atrocities committed and yet to be committed below. Cast of flame flickered over her pale flesh giving it a warmth not felt in the Nightsister. Wretched, ignorant masses they. Would that she could reduce their hovel to dust and have word spread to every corner of their planet what a true Witch and one of genuine malice could do... and how helpless their wretched souls were.

Were it so easy. Were she not to be a role model to others like her. The Nightmother's lips parted as a silent sigh, vexed by greater need, escaped her lips.

Even so, she would not stand for these atrocities to continue. Nor would she save but one or two to leave the rest to their persecution. How then, she contemplated, to proceed? A demonstration of power would frighten, for a time, but only redouble the resolve of others. In the end, a worse result obtained. Likewise, to simply steal the victims away would validate their beliefs -- an 'evil' woman was saved by 'dark' forces.

Then an idea came to her, and a smile spread over her dark lips. Was the answer not right before them?

Only fire if I give the signal, or they are within a stroke of ending their life. Vytal focused her thoughts on the one called Maple Harte . A crack of thunder, and an unseen means of death if used appropriately could play well. If necessary. When they bring out their next victim, I will play to their beliefs and we will separate the zealots from the fools. If it was the blessing of the gods they desired so with their display of blood and fire, then perhaps it was time they received their just reward for such dedicated reverence.

Location: Overlooking the Square, Arilia City
Tag: Tireya Syvare | Shamira Karuto | Eternal Ardor

 

[Maple Harte]

She had meant to fire. Really. She had. But literally at the exact moment the Bishop had pronounced execution and Maple made some move to try and savethe victim, she saw it in her scope.

The Brain Demon had replaced everyone in the crowd, and she could not see any fire being prepped. The emaciated creature with purple skin resembling a female, faceless Togrutan that had stalked her for a long time in her sleep by this point all stared at her in a hundred different places, making her freeze, unsure of who to shoot. How could she tell who was friendly. How did she know it was The Brain Demon doing this and not simply her schizophrenia?

Maple trembled as she stared at the monsters silently looking back at her through the scope. What if she fired and she was actually shooting the people she was here to get justice for and rescue?

The doubt, the hesitation, the fear, kept her frozen unable to hear the screams of the one burning.

When it cleared, it was the cooked smell that first cuaght her attention. She knew that smell.

"Gods..." Maple said, horrified. She had come out of her trance just in time to hear the final death screams.

Rage gripped her. She put aside her rifle as she saw another get put out to the execution stand. The girl, Tireya Syvare , looked as bad as Alwine Daye did when they had first met.

Half consciously, she felt her hand raising toward the Bishop. Distance mattered little where emotion was concerned.

Her hand clenched on the Bishop, and Maple focused all her wrath on the Bishop, trying to crush his body with the Dark Side. She could distantly hear her nemesis The Amalgam life somewhere in the back of her skull. But because she was still so inexperienced, the attempt failed.

Mercifully her bungled attempt was interrupted by Vytal Noctura who gave orders that she was only to fire if the signal was given. Maple hid her spurt of insanity in that icy professionalism she had always barely kept up for appearances sake.

"Roger Roger, Nightmother." Maple responded, picking up the rifle and aiming, praying she would not have another episode when the time came to help...she had already utterly failed one person just now...

Shamira Karuto

 

[Shamira Karuto]

Location: Arilia City – City Square
Tags: Tireya Syvare | Vytal Noctura | Maple Harte
Posts: 2

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This whole place was lively with zealous people all wanting to see the death of the one that they believed to be the root of all their evils. Every sickness, death, and piece of bad luck was the fault of those with these powers, who cursed everyone in the society with their very presence. That was, if the priest on the platform was to be believed. Each person that he burned was bringing the society closer to the perfection this religion coveted, and the people surrounding Shamira were eating up every single word.

For her part, she just tried to keep her head down, barely listening to the words. They had been spoken a thousand times now. A thousand times, each for the death of a medicine woman, scientist, or sorceress. Yet Shamira had come to most, if not all, the ones in this little town. Never had she done anything to stop them, for fear of losing her own life, but it felt wrong to just ignore what was going on. Even if she did, the priests were told of those that regularly didn’t come to these burnings, and they were almost always burned as well.

Watching as the effigy was burned as something new, or at least, not seen very often. More often than not, the things they burned did little to nothing other than becoming charred messes. Instead, the scream of this one solidified it’s validity. Interesting, and heartbreaking, that these fools had actually managed to capture a witch. Or at least, it’s tools. Which meant that today, someone of her own kind would be almost certainly losing her life. Another day, another needless death.

Something felt off about everything however. A shiver ran down her body as she scanned over the crowd, or at least as much as she could with her short stature. There was a presence, a feeling that someone else like her was near. Powerful, perhaps? Maybe, but the feeling was there and Shamira couldn’t shake it. However, she didn’t want to be obvious, only risking a glance around every so often as to remain unsuspicious. Standing out at this type of event was a quick way to a quick death.

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