Public Come Join the Murder

[Ryn Starfall]

"NightFall"
​

A call had been put forth across the stars, all witches where invited the graveyard world of Necropolis (Dahrtag). It had been a long time since tall the clans had gathered and met under a banner of truce. Long had they been divided by outsider politics weather it be the influence of the sith or before that the Jedi. It always seemed the witches had some outside influence driving them apart refusing to let them stand on there own like they once had. It had been so long since the Witches stood for themselves and not had this or that Empire or republic try to lord of them.


Now their world had been besieged by yet another outsider one resembling their oldest enemy the Galactic Empire. So, a question hung in the air could they muster up enough support among the sisters and light fire that had not been seen in generation to fight what was theirs. Or was the answer bleaker than that had the sister of both night and Allya been final beat into submission. Might they never again achieve the level of greatness they once had and once again be feared by the Galaxy at large for what they were capable of in their Magicks.


This meeting would hopefully determine that, as the sisters of the Dark Coven invited their wayward sisters from to join them. Ever since the sith had seized control of Dathomir before the New Imperials who now laid Claim, the Dark Coven had left Dathomir and come to this graveyard world. This world had held so much history for them it was the same world they had launched their war against the republic and Jedi claim over Dathomir in dark ages of the Galaxy. This would be if all things went well where they would launch their war on the Imperial Order.

---

Orange eyes peered out from the hood of black ceremonial robe between the woman’s lips was the burning embers of a death stick. The woman had her face painted in manner ready for war. She stood outside the Mausoleum that led down into the meeting hall where the witches might discuss their future. Her orange eyes scanned the area waiting patiently for those who might come. She also kept an out for outsiders, Necropolis was at the end of alliance territory near where they use to boarder the former confederacy.


They had to be extremely cautious here as though her contingent of witches had nothing to do with The Sith Empire some that might join them this evening might have. That and there were even more radical members some who allied with the Maw if any word got to the Galactic Alliance or one of the other Governments nearby this whole thing gathering could be easily taken down. Despite all this Ryn Starfall remained calm as she waited.


She slowly reached up and pulled the death from her lips and let out a puff of smoke as she did so. She wasn’t sure was coming next, she had never been a prophet or seer. She was a warrior and master of the element of fire, her best use had always been on the battlefield. She wanted to feel that fire in the heart of her sister once that spirit to fight for what was theirs, yet there was fear in her heart that the spirit of Dathomir had died and the daughter’s of Allya were forever lost.

 

[Asaaj En Kelsani]

Loadout

Tags:Ryn Starfall

Dark smoke from nowhere began to swirl loosely in the air, followed by burning orange embers as if created by an invisible fire, the smell of sulphur filled the air and there was a ripple in the force as the embers coalesced into a humanoid female form, as if she was being immolated in reverse.

Asaaj stepped forward as the last of the smoke and embers settled in to her form, that was a long journey, it took her a moment to her her bearings, she had visited this world before, it was a not unpleasant place, not as pretty as some necropoli but the sensation of darkness flowing was palpable and the feeling of nearby death made her skin prickle with excitement.

Ahead of her she saw the form of Ryn Starfall puffing smoke from her lips. She bowed low and made an ancient Dathomiri greeting, one that she had known since a child but rarely got a chance to use appropriately.

"Goodnight to you Sister, I am Asaaj En Kelsani, formerly of Dathomir." The Vampiress spoke proudly of her long remembered heritage, her twin blades hung at her waist as she bowed "I am not of the class, but was born of a night mother and will die as night sister." hopefully not for a few thousand years though, she grinned while thinking to herself.

She eagerly awaited the greeting from her host. Nobody else was here, so this was her chance to make an impression.

 

[Sabrina Themao]

Tags: Ryn Starfall | Asaaj En Kelsani
Planet: Necropolis
Location: Somewhere
Ambience: dark ambience
Theme song: Narcos
Clothes: Monk style kind of robes
Weapons/Gear: Nothing

Though not being a Dathomirian Witch, the young lady who goes by the name of Sabrina, couldn't let this opportunity slip. Ever since she heard the whispers across the galaxy talking about the mysterious witches, she wanted to get to know these beings. So for her, it was clear, what she had to do. With a little fire in her hand, that she created, she used it as a source of light. Thankfully she wandered around where nobody could see her, otherwise, she would have gained a lot of attention. She wandered around and around, her make-up as well made as it could be, with a lot of colors.

After hours of walking through the unknown territory, she finally arrived. Thanks to the force, one could say, she found her way to the witches. Would they accept her? She began to think about it getting kind of anxious, about what they would do to her. She was a warrior, yes, but she didn't want to fight. Especially not the witches, the women she so desperately wanted to meet.

A little hesitant, she stood there, first just looking from a safe distance. Then she made her way up to the folks that were already there. She kept quiet with an unsure look on her face. Maybe this was a bad idea after all. Since two sisters were there, she remained in the background. For some it probably looked creepy and awkward, but the young lady had no real chance to learn how to interact.
​

 

[Santeria Decuir]

Hatred crawled along the Nightmother; invisible tendrils, stalking the aura, poisoning the dark heart as it done in a deep, despairing nightmare that was long ago, in a dark age far away. It disgusted her - Dathomir bartered and abused like some trick on the corner of a Nar Shaddaa street. Within the eyes of Santeria Decuir, any that dared called their selves a Dathomir Witch was stripped of such a right the moment they sacrificed their culture to those who have been historically proven to discard the mistresses of the taboo magicks, to thieve from them their knowledge of the arcane. And everyone of them would suffer and rue the day they traded Dathomir as though she were nothing. It mattered not whom they were, with what connections had come to them. The High Priestess would do what she must to save Dathomir again, even if it meant to destroy it in one form or another after sacrificing the traitors and others to the Fanged God.

Within the inner sanctum had she stalked: heels embellished in spikes reflected the scarce light of the cathedral as they clacked against the cold, hard floor. Emotions were violent, unruly- allowed to roam free within. And they had become fueled when silvery pools leveled upon the throne. There it was towering above the others adorned in intricate carvings, bone, and all things wild. It was purely Santeria. A soft hiss pushed from clenched teeth while every step had taken her to where she belonged just as much then as she did now. The long stroke of a phalange traced one of the etchings though stopped and drew upon the tip of a finely pointed and lacquered nail. They were coming; she was ready. It was already over for those who defiled Dathomir and her children whether they realized it yet or not.

Nestling down unto the obsidian cushion, the Nightmother inclined her head to the one that lingered within the shadows. "See with my eyes, and hear with my ears," syllables rolled out silky, and thick of the native accent. Dark pleasure spilled against her lips as they drew into a wide grin. No response had been afforded as the figure heel-turned to traverse the sanctum and mausoleum until they reached those above. Across the stars would the stranglehold of the Unholy Matron be felt: no where to run, no where to hide.

 

[Mirus Hi'ija]

"You know, I'm never going to get tired of that accent," came a voice from the shadows, whispered out of nothingness; there was a brief flickering presence in the Force, before an impeccably well-dressed man, eyes tainted red and gold, made his appearance in the throne room of one Santeria Decuir. He'd never really been here before, so to speak. Well, that wasn't really true. He knew this place. He knew the ancestral memories that he held inside of him, knew all of the key locations in the feuds between families. To say the four families of the deWinters, the Cavataios, the Marzullos and the Decuirs had a storied history together was the understatement of the last thousand years. Mirus, on the other hand, had no such reservations about breaking every single thread that bound them all together for his own personal gain. Truth told, screw their families. They were just drama central anyway - meaning the focus was on the person before him. She knew him. He knew her. Of course they knew each other. Their lives had run parallel to each other on so many different courses of history that it was impossible for the blademaster-turned-alchemist to fail to recognise her completely.

Her power had drawn him, with intent, and he had answered her call. It was his place to. As a male Dathomiri, Mirus was only afforded so many rights; the son of a Jai slave, the heir of a clan mother, both of those balanced out. As far as most Nightsisters were concerned, he was of low station. His powers that he wielded, effortlessly, screaming against the tides of the Force so dramatically that he was powerful enough to turn warships into warbeasts, afforded him a level of protection. Santeria knew this. It was the only reason that she even afforded him the time of day, as far as he was concerned, which was fine. He didn't mind. Being dismissed as a male had become a natural part of his life, even when other Galactic forces such as the Empire would have afforded him more chances than women would have received. However, the matriarchy was a natural thing as far as he was concerned. His ego would not get in the way.

Unlike his cohorts, the man was impeccably dressed; grey suit, white shirt, black tie. He did not believe that one needed to give in to robes and the spooky occultism to be an efficient witch. Which, in hindsight, was usually a bad choice about Santeria Decuir's presence. Good thing Mirus liked to play with fire.

As his form finished shaping itself back to its full physical bearing, he took a seat at her right hand on the floor, cross-legged. Again, this was not only habit, but simple respect for her domain. She was the Mother here. He would never dare intrude on that; he did respect their traditions, after all. Sith-tainted eyes contemplated the woman who, after all these years, was still gorgeous. He knew it. He wasn't about to hide himself from his opinion.

"So. Are the children finally ready to play?" he asked playfully, a smirk crawling across his lips as he asked, as if his presence here was perfectly normal. It was time to see how she responded.

 

[Santeria Decuir]

A measured risk had been taken by the maleing as not many dared encroach upon Santeria in such a brazen manner; so typical Mirus. Soft fingers plucked possessively at a few tendrils of his hair; the touch was mesmeric in movement, a display of the power she held over him. A tightness coiled within her lungs at the deep breath drawn in when that voice drizzled all over the silence, shattering it like the hopes and dreams of a vagabond. What a plague upon her - males. A vision spilled before her of him clothed like a commoner and unlike his brood; it nearly disgusted her. Upon her face had been the very strokes of abhorrence with no effort to be hidden. Culture was of grand importance to the matriarch- Mirus aroused the ego of the narcissist by the compliment to her accent to which she drank in the attention-at least he arrived and displayed that he knew his place among the hierarchy of the Dathomirians. A brow larked while strands of his hair felt lighter which signified the ends were almost near; phalanges wreathed around what remained as she jerked his head closer.

"Why are you here, Mirus?" Memories recanted to yesteryear, the final moment which they had been within the company of one another. A torrid affair if she recalled correctly - which she always did, her recollections of the past in pristine and perfect recall. Santeria needed the answer, to know why after all this time fate had woven their time and paths together. While she remained hidden from the galaxy, having torn her way through from the Nether, whispers of the company he had kept was not appeasing to her. Again- another insult. The Cavataios. Nothing about them moved her in a any impressionable way that was favourable; their leader someone she felt purely better than. The High Priestess was always the vulgarian, obsessively egotistical.

Those eyes, as she peered into them, were Sith-like. How dare he. Santeria could not condemn Mirus or much less any witch for learning the Sith craft though the Darkside was nothing compared to Dathomir Magick. Once upon a time had she indulged the teachings of their kind but only to better learn of their ways, their Force knowledge. She was always seeking out information about other cultures, especially when it meant she could become greater, more intuitive, powerful. "More than ready," she replied in that signature voice, leaning forward toward him while her grasp upon his hair became tighter, more rough as she pushed his face closer to her body.

---

Tag: Mirus Hi'ija

 

[Mirus Hi'ija]

"You called, my darling. You might not know it, but you called - I know it better than every quisling in this Clan you would call an underling," he fired back as a riposte. Truthfully, the scratch of her elongated, sharp nails against the flesh of his scalp was a relaxing feeling. One he had felt before, one that was actually rather familiar and refreshing to have once again. Those nails, capable of piercing the flesh of lesser men, were as careful considerations to him. Even as she manipulated his head to be where he wished it, his body followed with the natural grace of a trained hunter, a predator who knew best where and how he needed to be before his prey. He was in her head, and she in his. It was an unfortunate side-effect of the past. Whether either of them liked it or not, they were both here, and the reality of the situation demanded that occult power be required, then Mirus would answer the call dutifully.

He knew full well she was judging him, every inch of his body, from his eyes to his clothes to the way he simply sat ont he floor and how close he allowed himself to sit near her. This was all the act. This was the power, the right, the egotistical, narcissistic need of the woman that sat upon her ashen throne and surrounded herself with aetheric energies so powerful and entwined in the land they now sat upon that it would have been folly to disobey her directive. As much as it seemed that was his wish, it truly was not.

"Good. They need to be ready. The children do not know yet the horrors for which they prepare," came the comment dour. Unfortunately, an enraged Galaxy was not a foe to be taken lightly. Whatever forces had taken Dathomir and arrayed themselves in preparation to weather the storm of the might of the Clans, they knew their foe. They had claimed this planet in the first place and would inevitably be prepared to defend it from their enemies. Freeing a world with little military might was not a wise idea, and Mirus was rather curious to see how this played out.

A long sigh, the exhale that carried the will of a man who now sat at the hand of a Mother. He was here now, whether she liked it or not, and she knew that his power would be a useful addition to her arsenal. Was it loyalty? Lust? Kinship? Memories of a time long passed? Perhaps all of these, in their own way. Mirus carried the burdens of time upon his soul and they weighed heavily on him.

"You know where I stand. Where my loyalties stand, Santeria. This is why I am here, now, with you. Not with the rest of them as they prepare for this war." A long pause, as his entire body rotated, eyes blazing fire as he gazed into those blissfully deep orbs that he had laid eyes upon so, so many years ago. He adored them then. He adored them now. There was a beauty to staring into the inky void, much like watching the scintillating visage of deep space and its myriad wonders. "You may turn me away - but I know in your heart you would never do so again, unless I earned it through my actions."

Was it a bluff? Perhaps. At least, it was partly. He knew that she would not turn away a potential weapon against her enemies. Whether his jibe cracked her icy facade was another story, and he did not expect such to be the case. Perhaps their past might be that which won him over. "Besides - you and I both know I'm far easier to look at than every other male slave you've ever kept, and strong enough to fight back and keep you entertained," he added, for his levity was one of his greatest weapons. Why not use it on her?

Santeria Decuir

 

[Ryn Starfall]

Ryn's orange eyes flashed as her left hand came up to push the hood covering her head back onto her shoulders. Her orange eyes fixed on the mysterious woman who started to approach her. Ryn long black hair that fell to her middle back was disheveled. Ryn' sulfuric orange eyes an outward sign of her families burned heavily around the dark circles underneath that gave way that Ryn wasn't getting enough sleep. She just watched as the woman came up to her and spoke to her.


"Aren't we all formerly from Dathomir, our home a Galactic bargaining chip for the powers that be." Ryn said her voice carried a husky rough accent with a cynical melody towards the beloved home world of the witches. She then took another puff from the death stick, taking in the smoke deep allowing to roll back and down her lungs. Giving it a moment before it struck the nervous system and sent the single to the mind to release the pleasure endorphins. It took only a few moments, and a smile began to stretch across the Fowl Mouthed Witches face. "Fuck, sorry for that, sounded so god damn grim. Names Ryn Starfall Clan Mother of the Howling Crags."


Ryn reached out with a hand in greeting, never one to hang on tradition or formalities of the witch ways. To be sure she knew them she had been doing this whole witch thing for a long time, but she was never one that gave to many fucks even given her position within the Dark Coven. It was a little late for her to be changing in her ways, that and her wife Lilith Decuir would only be concerned that she had buried herself in some strange knew drug if she even tried to act more witch proper.


Her eyes remained on the pale one, looking her over. The woman definitely looked the part of a witch as she said she was. Ryn took in a deep breath and let the scent of the woman float towards her as she did her eyes rolled back slightly. Ryn could smell it they're in the blood a sign of heritage a sign of that this was indeed a daughter of Allya. "You speak the truth and all sisters are welcome to this gathering, However your friend, Sister Asaaj?"


Ryn lifted her hand and pointed towards Sabrina Themao . Those Orange eye's looked to the outsider and flared up once more. As Ryn pointed another sister emerged from the shadows.

---

Sabrina Themao | Asaaj En Kelsani | Cord Starfall

 

[Cord Starfall]

Post: 1
Gear: Sith Swords (Fiend & Solar) | Sith Armor | Battle Skirt | Sith Mask | Green Midnight Duster with Hood | x2 DL-44 | Daggers
Tags: Ryn Starfall | Asaaj En Kelsani | Sabrina Themao

---

A woman in a long green coat with a hood appeared beside Sabrina Themao . Upon the woman's face was an ancient death mask made of silver and amethyst , with a gold letter etchings in a long dead language all across it. Those that could read the ancient sith script it spoke of the all the sins the wear of the mask had committed of which there was thousands. Another pair of orange eyes could be seen peering from the mask much like Ryn who long stood a mere fifteen meters away giving way that these to were kin and bore the same family curse.


A sword came up one that had been crafted in the ancient form of alchemy in front of Sabrina though not in a manner to attack but halt any forward movement from the woman in Ryn's direction. By all accounts the woman who stood at Sabrina's side with her sword out resembled a sith, even the armor Cord wore was of an ancient sith design. Yet Cord had not been a Sith in a really long time, she had shed that part of her life a really long time ago.


Here head turned and those orange eyes peered at Sabrina questioningly as her dry rough voice spoke up. "Identify yourself, outsider?" Her tone was stern and demanding. Though she made a side glance towards her Aunt Ryn to make sure the stoner didn't burst out laughing. Though Cord looked intimidating and she could definitely hold her own she was probably underneath it all one of the nicest people you could meet so long as you didn't get on her bad side or the rage demon she carried inside of her didn't break free.

 

[Dreidi Xeraic]

Outfit: Training leathers, thin long sleeve shirt and hand wraps
Equipment: Lightsaber
Tags: Ryn Starfall | Cord Starfall | Mirus Hi'ija | Santeria Decuir | Sabrina Themao | Asaaj En Kelsani | Vanya Aklin

Dreidi somehow found her way to the planet, it was difficult to convince anyone taking her to the graveyard world. Few pilots were willing to trek to just a dark and dangerous world but with enough credits and enough sweet talking, she was able to secure a transport to the world. Feeling the strong presence of death and pain that was echoing through the Force, it was hard hitting but Dreidi was able to breath in deeply and blocking out the pain. She refused to be overwhelmed by the echoes of the dead as she walked around. It was curious to see who else would be around. She was brought to this world by the call of uniting the Witches. Something that Dreidi had little in terms of knowledge or understanding in terms of difficulty but she had been training under a Witch while part of the CIS when it was still around so she felt it would be a good idea to come and see if she could continue her training here.

Her presence would be cloaked with the Light Side of the Force since her connection to the Force currently was much stronger than her connection to the Magick. At the moment, she could only cast fire and it wasn't anything significant at least in comparison to the powerful witches she had read and studied when she was spending her evenings going over the notes. Her Lightsaber was clipped to her belt and on clear display, she knew that there would be some that didn't approve of her being a Jedi or mixing the two crafts but Dreidi wasn't going to let them decide her path. She was rebelling the traditional Jedi path that her parents had set her on and she wasn't going to listen to others when they would tell her what she could and couldn't be.

Entering the room, she looked around, there seemed to be one man and a few other women that she assumed were fellow witches. She bit her lip, nerves were creeping in, even if she wanted to be stubborn and stand her ground, foremost was the need to be accepted and approved of by her peers or people she wanted to be her peers. Moving forward, she rocked on her heels again, stretching her body in hopes of dusting off the nerves though it did nothing. "Uhhh..." She swallowed hard since she realised how dry her throat was now, "hi... I'm Dreidi. I was training to be a nightsister under Vanya Aklin before the fall of the CIS." She hoped bringing up the name of her mentor would mean that they didn't just simply disregard her.

 

[Santeria Decuir]

"If I have to destroy Dathomir to save it, again, then that is exactly what I'll do." None would be left unscathed by the horrors wrought by the High Priestess should her hand be forced. Only one held the right to the mother planet: the Dathomir Witches. Any who dared to defy the will imposed, and those who traded the planet like some brood mare, would be offered as a sacrifice in the name of the Fanged God and to Dathomir's Vitality. Santeria would watch them burn upon the pyres, dance to the melody of their screams as flesh peeled from bone. A dark laugh crawled up the back of her throat while her heather-hued gaze seemed so far away though it still peered into the Sith orbs that were transfixed upon her like she were some god.

Light glides of phalanges curled from thick tresses to the curve of his chin. Betwixt those deadly fingers she held his face there - she used the coaxing of her thumb beneath the chin to bring him closer. "Mirus, forever mine. Never drift from me again. For the next time, I will know how your blood looks upon these hands." All within the Dark Coven was hers: Mirus, Ryn, Vanya, Cord. Hers until the end of time. "My how my little maleling sure thinks of himself so grand." Truth had been laid bare at the abilities he could wield and at how he excelled at thrilling her; Santeria did not entertain fools nor did she keep the company of any who couldn't keep her affections or attention. They would be abused, exploited, discarded- passed along when she had her fill and was done using them to her own benefit.

Like the shimmering daydream within a reflecting pool had been broken by the ravaging of boots through the water, so had the moment been dashed to bits at the arrival of an unfamiliar. A growl thrummed from the tight chest of the Nightmother at the sickening swell of the Lightside as it permeated the inner sanctum. She knew that stench anywhere. Many had died by her bare-hands, lightsaber, whip... rancor. A finely groomed brow larked while features hardened like stone. Removing her touch from Mirus, the High Priestess arose from her throne. "Do not address me as though we are allies or friends," if words were weapons, those were sharp. Santeria was not keen on the being addressed so informally; the name-drop of The Listener caused lips to twist into a scowl. How bold, too bold, of Sister Vanya. This did not sit well with the Nightmother of Nightsisters.

A thought ravaged Santeria, a perplexing question as to whether or not The Listener had forgotten the culture, the teachings, what it meant to be Nightsister. Rage lingered in her belly. It was red-hot, thrashing around. Lightside Nightsister- a cruel joke that had better have been. There was no love for Jedi, for Sith, or Imperials. Santeria despised them - wanted them all dead, and she the animator of their corpses to do with as she wished. "I am Santeria Decuir. The High Priestess of the Dark Coven, The Nightmother, The Imperial Enslaver, The Unholy Matron, Mother of a the former Frenzied River Clan. I will be addressed as High Priestess or Nightmother." There would be no exception.

"I am not Sister Vanya, and knowing her does not give you leverage with me." Santeria respected those who did not rest upon the laurels of others, who did not use other Sisters to their own benefit to gain favour with her or to be inducted into the Dark Coven. Those that did would be treated with a chilling bias. "Witches do not walk two worlds. If you are a Witch - that is what you are. Not a Sith nor Jedi. And Nightsisters don't walk in the light." Among the Witches of Dathomir had been Allyans - those that followed a more diverted path than Nightsisters. "Tell me, Dreidi. What do you know about being a Nightsister?" Santeria was becoming obsessively curious about the younger female and not in a flattering-type way.

---

Mirus Hi'ija | Dreidi Xeraic

 

[Mirus Hi'ija]

Her resolve was true, the strength in Santeria's heart never in question. In all their years of acquaintance, it had never been a question of the Night Mother's dedication to her homeworld; she had fought tooth and nail for it multiple times in the course of years, and had succeeded on more than one occasion. She was a force to be reckoned with, that was for sure. While their individual strengths lay elsewhere, it was impossible to question her commitment to the occult arts that their bloodlines were famous for. He had chosen Sith knowledge to specialize in, true, though he had not forgotten the old ways; there was a certain familiarity with ritual and pomp and circumstance and tradition that the alchemic ways that he studied which bore marks within the Dathomiri traditions. He was still a powerful sorcerer, in his own right, but his alchemical prowess was his decision and his greatest triumph. He would use it for her, should he need, when they fought for the fate of their world. Her fangs, as sharp as her wit, would be her greatest weapon in the oncoming onslaught.

Forever hers, huh? He'd heard that kind of talk before. "I'd rather give you my loyalty by right of it being earned, rather than being simply claimed, Santeria mine. Tell you what, since you so desire - if you're really good I may just give you as much of my blood as you require for a ritual willingly," he told her, that irritating smirk coming across his lips. He knew that it was such a powerful thing, the blood of an elder; he had earned, by right, his place. Whether she took it or not was another story entirely, for he knew the depths upon which she would tread. Would a sacrifice of powerful blood provide sufficient for the destructive augurs that they would employ upon their homeworld to raze every presence of their enemies? Would she wish it to be his blood? It would entirely likely come down to the strategies she wished to employ when they went to war. And, once upon a time, he had been a war-strategist. Perhaps she might draw on his counsel for once in her life, though he sincerely doubted it. The joys of being male.

"Besides, you and I both know incredibly well that you have needs that-" he started, but stopped as his eyes cast upon a new form entering the room he had assumed they would have to themselves. He had planned to show her the true depths of his fidelity, but that was no longer an option.

A pause. An intruder. The jai scowled; he did not tolerate such intrusions, and he knew that the witch queen would abide this even less than he. This was not the way and, as the Force swirled about the interloper, it carried a very familiar scent-- the Light. Now, unlike Santeria, Mirus was far more tolerating of the Allyans. The incorrect use of nomenclature would be addressed, inevitably, but born into a number of families with ties to a wide number of Clans, Mirus understood that witches could be light or dark. But only dark ever dared called themselves Nightsisters. To do so would... well, the situation unfolding in the throne room was precisely how it would go. Nevertheless, Mirus stood prepared to temper his queen's hand, should she use it to draw proverbial steel against the newcomer.

When Santeria's hand departed his chin, he barely managed to grasp it for just a moment with his fingertips -- a fleeting gesture, only to plant a quiet kiss upon it, something that their new guest would not understand-- and released it such that Santeria could deliver unto this one the words that they needed to hear. He listened attentively to her words, of course. He was not foolish. He would not speak, either, for he was not suicidal. Instead, he simply sat to provide an intimidating force, as if an attack dog. Force, how easy it was to have one's self-worth stripped away in the presence of witches. He would not go introduced until Santeria deigned so. Was it subservience? No - just an understanding of what the expectation here was, and a willingness to obey publically for her sake. Close the doors again, and this dance would have been far different.

As the last lilting note vanished into the abyss, he gave a look to Santeria, curiosity coming across his features; he would know her intent. Behind it came a mental impression of exactly that; while he did not need to give her words, he knew full well that his telepathic skills were entirely intelligible and eloquent, especially with one who knew him inside and out as she did. It were as if he could wrap his arm about both her shoulders and ask her the question-- what will you do with this one?

But it would not be asked aloud, when Santeria was executing the exigence of her station. He simply had to understand her.

Santeria Decuir Dreidi Xeraic

 

[Asaaj En Kelsani]

Loadout

Tags:Ryn Starfall

"I suppose we are?" she grinned as Ryn Starfall Corrected her. "it has been many centuries since I have been able to call Dathomir my home." she had left with sadness for her mothers passing, and it was a shame to lose her connection to the planet despite her strictness with herself that she will always be a night sister. Asaaj took the offered hand and kissed it graciously, "it is a pleasure to meet you mother Starfall. I am unclear what you mean by my friend, I came alone, I had hoped to invite one of my lovers, but she plays games and does not respond to me, pity really she would enjoy this macabre setting."

The scent of Ryn's hand was inviting, she smelled the dathomiri heritage, every night sister had the same, aftertaste? Was that the word, a light burning of sulphur that teased the back of the tongue. Being amongst her and her mother's kind was exciting.

Asaaj looked over at the outsider, why would someone not of Dathomiri vlood attempt to infiltrate, the Sister's were not known for their hospitality, the woman risked her blood and her soul by coming here uninvited.

 

[Sabrina Themao]

Tags: Ryn Starfall | Cord Starfall | Asaaj En Kelsani | Dreidi Xeraic
Planet: Necropolis
Location: Somewhere
Ambience: dark ambience
Theme song: Narcos
Clothes: Monk style kind of robes
Weapons/Gear: Nothing
​

Sabrina was looking at Assaj for a moment. She probably was a confused as she was, since they both didn't know each other. "I am..." she wanted to say but got interrupted by Cord and her Sword. She gasped in fear as the sword appeared in front of her. Suddenly she was pretty sure, that this was a bad idea at all. How naive of her, to think, that witches would just welcome her with a big hug. But being smart was none of Sabrina's traits. The girl was trained to follow orders blindly, never questioning anything or anybody. The witches could see in her face, that she was scared. She looked at Ryn, the woman, who seemed to be nice, at least it looked like it. She didn't raise a sword towards Sabrina. The way she talked also was amusing for Sabrina. Such manners of speaking were unknown to her, therefore before a sword was raised in front of her, she smiled lightly. But that smile disappeared as quickly as it came. Then she looked again at Asaaj. Her pale skin, made Sabrina and her colorful make-up look like a clown. The make-up shouldn't be misinterpreted though. She didn't put make-up on, to look like a witch of dathomir, she didn't even know witches would put on make-up. She wore it because it made her feel more distant from her homeworld and the order she was born in. She hated the shapers of kro var. So all the colors were there for the purpose to hide in some way her heritage. Shapers never wore make-up.

She didn't dare to turn her head towards Cord. Her voice, and the scary-looking sword, upon which (I am assuming since witch magic) green mist, emerged, were signal enough for Sabrina to know, that she was dangerous. In a usual warrior manner, Sabrina only spoke when spoken to. In which case Cord, asked a simple and direct question. Therefore, Cord got the same kind of answer. A short and direct one, as one would expect from a warrior. "S-Sabrina Themao" she answered with a little shaken voice, due to the circumstances she was in. At that moment, Dreidi came in. Sabrina took a quick look at her, trying not to move too much or make any fast movements.


​

 

[Darth Metus]

Wearing: Armor of Darth Metus​

NECROPOLIS

He had not thought of Dathomir in a lifetime.

When the Sith was a far younger man, a benevolent soul offered him salvation. Within the wooded depths of Dathomir, Isley found refuge among the Cavataio. He found a mother in Petra. She opened her son's eyes to the ways of the worlds beyond. Guided him in hearing the whispers of the ancestors. His time among his kin was short - too short - but it forever altered his path.

The man that he was today was made possible because of her benevolence. And therefore, he arrived to witness the return of his Mother's people. A call had been made and he would answer. His arrival was mundane: the crunch of his boots upon the Necropolis' blighted surface simply grew louder until he reached the gathering. Gone were the pressed suits demanded of his former role. Present now was something far more comfortable: armor, draped in a cloak.

"Isley Verd, Clan Morte."

His words, however brief, were accompanied by a respectful nod of greeting.

Ryn Starfall | Cord Starfall | Asaaj En Kelsani | Dreidi Xeraic | Mirus Hi'ija | Santeria Decuir | Sabrina Themao | Vanya Aklin​

 

[Invidia Decuir]

Invidia did not like any of this; a point made clear to the High Priestess and the others of the Dark Coven. There was an insult to the injury of allowing every sub-creature that participated in the prostitution of Dathomir to come to this soiree of Dathomir Witches. It mattered not if any of them were directly responsible for in her eyes none did anything to prevent their culture from being made into some sideshow carnival or Dathomir being tainted by the presence of Sith. Brows tilted downward while the rather short-stature Nightsister looked up at them all before that gaze turned upon Ryn Bacquin- a relative by mating. Attention diverted with the fresh face of a maleling, someone else unknown to her. Clan Morte- all that rung through her mind was something or another dealing with Petra Cavataio. Wouldn't her beloved matriarch be so thrilled.

Patience was wearing drastically thin, regardless if memory served correct.

Among the tombstones there they all lurked near a moss-covered, olden, mausoleum with enough energy to be a beacon to others attuned to the Force or other mysticisms. Lingering where they were was endangering the objective of this gathering of occultists - the incarnation of the Nightmother was not favourable to the idea of being ambushed by a bunch of marauding Force-amateurs while everyone introduced themselves like this was a brunch.

"How long are we going to be standing here, Mother Ryn." Lulling her head to the side, raven tresses scooped over a bare shoulder, her overly-feminine voice raising louder with each word. No sign had there been yet of the others, including The Listener, which had been another nuisance.

---

Tag: Ryn Starfall | Asaaj En Kelsani | Sabrina Themao | Darth Metus

 

[Dreidi Xeraic]

Outfit: Training leathers, long thin long sleeve shirt and hand wraps
Equipment: Lightsaber
Tags: Santeria Decuir | Mirus Hi'ija

As soon as Dreidi entered the room, all eyes were fixed on her and she could tell none of them approved of the fact she was connected to the Force, especially the Lightside. It was heavy on her chest, she could feel the disapproval and she knew that the others would likely never see her as a Witch or a Nightsister, at least the way she was now. She was barely trained and knew little of the ways, it had been her goal to learn plenty and become a Nightsister that Vanya would be proud of, especially since her mentor was strict and stern. Dreidi been fighting to show that she could be both that while others could not do both, she was different and she was strong enough to be able to. It was her whole life goal to fight and show that Jedi and Nightsister was not an impossible path.

When Santeria walked straight to Dreidi, followed by some man who was attempting to look menacing behind her though Dreidi gave him little attention, her focus was solely on Santeria. She declared herself The Nightmother, which confused Dreidi since Vanya called herself Nightmother as well, were there more than one Nightmother, the emphasis on the suggested that Santeria thought herself above all others who call themselves Nightmother. Dreidi never gave respect to those that didn't earn it but she also knew not to upset those that she knew would kill her without a second thought and Santeria was clearly one of those who would. Dreidi also felt her cheeks burn red hot when she was told that she couldn't walk the two paths that she wanted to and that Nightsisters don't walk the Light side at all.

"I did not use my mentor's name as leverage, just explaining who was training me before I came here since I was unable to come with her to this gathering." Dreidi spoke, there were heavy nerves in her tone but she wasn't backing down. If she gave up now then what was the point in starting. No. She had to prove to these people that she was worthy of being trained and that she was going to do it the path that she wanted to do it. "That might be your views on Witches Nightmother, but I am going to be both a Jedi and a Nightsister. I will prove that one can do both, no matter how hard the training is." Dreidi stated in a firm tone, with the cold fire of determination burning in her eyes, "With all due respect, Nightmother." Dreidi added hastily realising that she still needed to keep her respect while disagreeing.

"In honesty," Dreidi inhaled deeply, "I do not know much bar the information that I could gather prior to beginning my studies with my mentor. I know that Jedi and Sith have both hunted and attempted to massacre the Nightsisters, that we use Magick which can be used via incantations and hand gestures, among other methods, I have learnt how to cast fire though it isn't anything significant unless I am fighting for my life at the moment. I know that there are different clans of Nightsisters and that they haven't always gotten along. That the originals are on Dathomir but Nightsisters can be more spread out nowadays. I also know that Nightsister society is matriarchal so, I know that no matter how threatening the man behind you looks, he would not do anything without a Nightsister's say. And since you claim to be the Nightmother, that none of the Nightsisters would act against your wishes," Dreidi's eyes then widen, "not to say you aren't just that I don't know you or the identity of the Nightmother so I have to take you at your word, Nightmother."

Dreidi could feel how red her face was and was panicking that she was saying all the wrong things. In her mind, there was no one else bar the two of them.

 

[Ryn Starfall]

Confusion crossed Ryn's face as her hand she had lift to point to Sabrina Themao was grabbed and kissed. Quickly Ryn pulled her hand away, Ryn was never a fan of the formal bullshit. "I am talking about that woman right over there. I'm going with she didn't come with you then." This time she just nodded her head in Cord and Sabrina's direction. As she did it seemed Asaaj took note of the outsider now.


Yet before Ryn could carry on her niece Cord arrived and pulled a sword on the outsider. Then some Blonde had entered and started engaging with Santeria and the maling that was entertaining her. That was never a good a thing, not even Ryn would just engage Santeria and she had known the woman for a long time at this point and was even related to her through her wife Lilith Decuir .


Before Ryn could even react to that situation, she felt a presence coming and then it appeared a maling in a cloak and armor. Instinctively Ryn reached for the weapon that was sheathed at her back, though she didn't pull it. Her orange eyes flared as she stared right at Darth Metus he approached and identified himself as one of Clan Morte. Ryn was body was tense and at the ready her demeanor quickly went from pleasant to stern.


The First outsider the woman Sabrina as she had identified herself wasn't a threat everything in her demeanor said she was scared. It still begged the question why was she here? However, this Maling that now Identified himself as Clan Morte the way he carried himself something sent red flags up in Ryn's mind. Though she never had direct interaction with Clan Morte, she knew of them and that her older sister Tegan Starfall had some dealings with them in the past. Anyone that dealt with Tegan had to have a screw loose or two.


Then Invidia spoke up in that moment Ryn having forgot the diminutive mate of brother was about. Ryn about jumped out of her skin. "Fucking Fang God…….!" She let out in frustration of Invidia creeping up on her. Though she was spooked her eyes stayed on Islay not moving from him. She did take note as Cord pulled her sword away from the outsider and pulled her second sword free.

---

Asaaj En Kelsani | Sabrina Themao | Cord Starfall | Invidia Decuir | Darth Metus

 

[Cord Starfall]

Post: 2
Gear: Sith Swords (Fiend & Solar) | Sith Armor | Battle Skirt | Sith Mask | Green Midnight Duster with Hood | x2 DL-44 | Daggers
Tags: Sabrina Themao | Asaaj En Kelsani | Invidia Decuir | Ryn Starfall | Santeria Decuir | Mirus Hi'ija | Darth Metus

---

Cord listened as the woman Sabrina gave her name, but the questioning quickly ended as the former leader of the Confederacy showed up. He identified himself as a member of Clan Morte, a clan Cord was not familiar with. Yet she knew who the man was and as he introduced himself Cord had pulled her sword away from Sabrina the woman though an outsider didn't seem to be a threat in fact, she seemed scared. Cord free her other sword from her belt as she to much like her aunt put her full focus on Isley.


"Sith, Mandalorian, Witch….." She scoffed wondering what else he might claim, though in truth all she knew of the man was what little she had heard among the Obsidian Knights. Cord's opinion of the Confederacy was Jaded though she had found her time there a waste in totality. Yet from all she had learned she knew very well this one could be a threat.


The outsider Sabrina would have to wait for a moment as Cord readied herself though she wouldn't do anything unless Ryn, Invidia or Santeria herself gave an order. "Perhaps we take this to the high Priestess. Allow her to deal with this Clan Morte Member and Outsider."

 

[Asaaj En Kelsani]

Loadout

Tags:Ryn Starfall Cord Starfall Darth Metus Santeria Decuir Invidia Decuir Mirus Hi'ija (sorry if I missed anyone)

As Ryn Starfall busied herself introducing all the different 'guests' asaaj looked around, what a peculiar bunch. There was more than one here that given any other day they would feel the sting of her Katar, hells, it might not even be another day. "Clan Morte, you say?" she responded to Darth Metus "interesting lineage there? Please tell us more?" she smiled wickedly, she had only encountered two Morte in the past, a Sith and a Mandalorian, either one of which she would love the chance to all to her kill tally. But how rude of that would it be to spoil the party of the beautiful Ryn Starfall .

Speaking of whom she looked at, seeing the deathstick sitting causally in her mouth. "I have never enjoyed those Balo sticks, the refinement process gives them a strange taste... may I?" she held out a small wooden case with a row of dried brown rolls that looked somewhere between dried paper and dried skin. If Ryn was true Dathomiri she might recognise it as a dried leave of a psychoactive planet that grows only on dathomir and tends to collect around the tombs of fallen sisters. Rarez and dangerous to get hold of these days.

The other outside seemed like she might be spared, some pity there, in the excitement, Asaaj was starting to feel the nagging pull of her hunger and her upper gums ached where her teeth begged to taste the sweet blood of one of the seducttresses amongst them.

Asaaj felt a strangeness, something out of place amongst all the darkness, the telltale corruption of the light flowed all around Dreidi Xeraic what was a light sider doing here? Had Ryn genuinely opened up her Coven to any and all who might show up? It was fun to see the variety, but the blood and the culture of the Dathomiri, already on its knees after centuries of brutal treatment, was something to cherish and protect. Not dilute with the blood of anyone who wanted to show up. Asaaj had the strongest urge to clean house.