Faction Come with me now, Phase I (The Fallen Order/Open to Darksiders)

[T'zarna Khab]

Quiet fell over over a small prairie on the planet of Crucival, the only lights for miles were a small town far in the distance. To some it was a symbol of the idyllic life of a cosmic backwater, but many wished for more exotic faire. They didn't want to live their whole lives sitting in the same small town on a boring planet. Thankfully, there were those who promised more than what Crucival could offer.

They came in like thieves in the night, a shadowy group of men and women dressed for performance. They entertained the townsfolk with nightly shows deep into the wee hours of the morning, all under the guise of spreading their odd religion, The Way of One. It called for them to join in the dances, to come to one final show.

The Fallen order gathered the townsfolk in an encampment on the prairie, fires and lights cutting through the darkness as the sun vanished. They offered drinks from huge drums, drinks that they claimed would reveal truth. A cocktail of chems that would open the minds of even the most cynical skeptics. These psychedelics would be a trial, those who could survive their trip were good candidates for cultists. Those whose minds broke would be be used in other ways, meat for future wars.

The Fallen order seeks to entertain these masses, and to use the mass hallucinations as a cover for something darker. Ritual wrapped in celebration, a communion with the Dark Side of The Force. Some small contingent of the town will be used as fodder for this ritual.

The ritual is a complex affair taking place in two parts. The first involves a series of chants and preparations. Carving the necessary symbols into the ground, and then filling them with the necessary liquid biomass. Once the ritual site is prepped, the overseers of The Fallen Order will begin the ritual proper. They shall offer some of the newly enlightened mortals to spirits of The Nether.

In between the dances and bonfires, food and entertainment, there is a plan. A plan that will unfold once the first phase of the ritual is complete. Then the world of Crucival shall shake with the power of The Dark. Merriment will end, replaced by the horror of creation.

It is here, upon this backwater that the beginning of something horrible shall be wrought. A great binding that will shake the sector, and alter the fate of a world.

 

[Phyress Vaelor]

Phyress had known celebrations built around fire before. This one felt more honest. She moved through the gathering at an unhurried pace, allowing the revelry to flow around her. Music thundered across the prairie. Bodies twisted beneath the open sky, liberated from whatever mundane obligations had governed their lives before the Fallen Order arrived. Laughter came easily. So did drink.

The people of Crucival thought they were celebrating. Phyress knew better. Green mist spilled lazily from around her feet, slipping through the grass in thin tendrils. Some curled toward the fires and disappeared into smoke. Others wandered between dancing feet before inevitably crawling toward the markings being prepared beyond the celebration.

Her tattoos answered with a faint pulse. There was purpose beneath the chaos. That was what had drawn her to the Fallen Order. The Jedi had taught Uvara Nyshara that darkness was something to fear, something to reject before understanding it. The Nightsisters had taught Phyress Vaelor that darkness was something to surrender herself to. Both had demanded obedience. The Fallen Order offered something different. Possibility.

She did not need to amputate pieces of herself to satisfy someone else's definition of purity. Nor did she need to surrender herself to darkness simply because she had learned to wield it. Here, among monsters, witches, warriors and things considerably harder to name, Phyress had discovered something unexpectedly valuable. She could become whatever survived the making.

A cup was pressed toward her. Phyress' gaze dropped to it. She had watched the townsfolk drink. Some laughed afterward. Some wept. Some stared into nothing as whatever comfortable fiction they had constructed around themselves was peeled away. The Fallen Order called that revelation. Phyress understood the sentiment.

"Truth?" A faint smile touched her lips. "Very well." She drank.

For several heartbeats, nothing happened. Then the prairie vanished. A lightsaber flashed through darkness. Her Master's back receded through trees while hands seized Uvara from behind. Stone beneath her knees. Green flame. Pain crawling through her flesh as another luminous mark was carved into her skin. A woman's fingers gently touching one of those same marks years later. Bodies scattered across ancient Jedi ruins. Phyress standing among them. Uvara standing among them.

Then something changed. Neither woman stood alone. Shapes gathered beyond them. Strange silhouettes half-obscured by mist. Horns. Armor. Claws. Blades. Things born from worlds and traditions that would never have belonged beside one another anywhere else. Except here.

Uvara looked toward them. Phyress did the same. Neither disappeared. They stepped forward together. Phyress opened her eyes. The cup remained in her hand. Her luminous markings burned brightly beneath her clothing before slowly settling into their familiar pulse. Green mist had gathered thickly around her feet. She stared into the empty vessel. Then laughed softly.

"Better." She handed it back. The celebration continued behind her as Phyress followed her mist toward the greater work. She did not approach as an observer. When she reached the ritual preparations, Phyress stepped among those laboring there and joined them. Biomass flowed through channels carved into the earth. Symbols waited to be completed. Sacrifice waited beyond that.

The methods were unfamiliar. The purpose was not. Transformation always demanded something from those who sought it. Phyress crouched beside one of the markings, studying its geometry before allowing her mist to creep along its edges. She recognized pieces. Resonances. Principles that reminded her of Nightsister workings without truly belonging to them. Good. She had not come to the Fallen Order merely to repeat what her captors had taught her.

Eventually she rose. Her gaze found T'zarna. Phyress had already seen what the Hive-mother could accomplish through violence. On Corvus they had hunted together, and Phyress had trusted T'zarna enough to give the creature room to unleash herself. This required a different kind of trust.

She approached without hesitation. "They came looking for freedom." Phyress glanced back toward the distant fires. "Some may even be strong enough to find it." Her eyes settled briefly upon those who had responded poorly to the drink. There was little sympathy there.

"The others can still serve." Her attention returned to the ritual. The Nightsisters had taken a Jedi Padawan and tried to make something new from her. Their mistake had been believing that creation required the destruction of everything that came before.

Phyress would not make that mistake. Neither, she suspected, would the Fallen Order. She stepped closer to T'zarna, green mist curling outward to mingle with the darkness gathering across the prairie. "I recognize pieces of the working. Not enough." It was not an admission that troubled her. Quite the opposite.

Phyress looked across the markings, the biomass, the preparations for sacrifice and everything still waiting beneath them. A small smile appeared. "Tell me where you require me, Hive-mother." Her hand settled lightly against the talisman hanging upon her person. "And teach me the rest."

• Location: Crucival — The Ritual Grounds
• Objective: Take Part in the Great Working • Learn from the Hive-Mother
• Company: T'zarna Khab

 

[Mika Tai En]

Location: Crucival — Among the Revelers
Objective: Blend In • Discover What Came to Crucival
Attire: Incognito Common Clothing
Tags: OPEN

Mika had not returned to Crucival as its Moff. That would have required there to still be something worth being Moff of. The Imperial Confederation had receded from this world as surely as so many governments had before it, leaving behind buildings, records, old loyalties and titles that increasingly meant little beyond the files in which they were recorded. Somewhere, Mika Tai En remained listed as the Imperial governor of Crucival. Technically.

Technicalities were useful things. They were rarely worth wearing a uniform for. So there were no rank plaques upon Mika's chest as she approached the gathering. No polished boots or sweeping crimson-lined cape. No entourage followed several respectful steps behind her. Instead, a dark cowl shadowed her reddish-purple hair, though one thick braid had escaped to hang over her shoulder. Layered black clothing and worn leather wraps transformed the former Moff into one more traveler among many. Small pieces of metal and ornamentation hung from belts and fastenings, sufficiently eclectic to belong among those drawn to the strange celebration. Her lightsabers were considerably better concealed.

Mika had received reports. At first, they had sounded mundane. Strangers arriving near a small settlement. Performers. Celebrations. Locals gathering in greater numbers. Then came the stranger details. Drinks. Visions. People abandoning their routines to follow newcomers promising something different. And something in the Force.

That last part had brought Mika here personally. She slipped among the revelers without announcement. Nobody bowed. Nobody saluted. It was refreshing.

Mika lingered near one of the fires, watching rather than participating at first. Her green eyes moved constantly despite her otherwise reserved demeanor. Performers. Revelers. Those distributing food and drink. Those who appeared to be enjoying themselves. Those whose smiles seemed just a little too distant.

She could have approached this as an investigation. That sounded dreadfully official. Mika preferred to think of it as satisfying her curiosity. Someone caught her wrist and pulled her into the dancing. "Oh!" Surprise briefly overwhelmed any attempt at maintaining anonymity.

Mika stumbled a step, recovered with considerably more grace than an ordinary traveler probably should have possessed, then laughed despite herself. Apparently participation was easier than observation from the edge. So she danced.

Not particularly extravagantly. Mika followed the rhythm, allowed herself to be swept between strangers and gradually stopped looking quite so much like someone conducting surveillance. For a little while, she almost forgot why she had come. Almost. Because something was wrong. No. That wasn't the right word. Something was interesting.

Mika slowed. The Dark Side had been present since her arrival, but she had initially attributed that to whoever organized the gathering. There were practitioners here. Powerful ones. That alone wasn't especially surprising. This was different. There was direction to it.

Mika slipped from the dancers and wandered farther from the fire. Her attention dropped toward the ground. There. She could feel it now. Her head tilted slightly as she followed the sensation, mentally separating the emotions of hundreds of revelers from something much larger beneath them. Whatever was happening here extended beyond recruiting a few bored locals into some eccentric Dark Side philosophy.

Someone was constructing something. Mika's lips parted in the beginnings of a smile. "Oh..." That was much better. She continued wandering, careful not to appear overly interested. The young woman beneath the cowl remained simply another participant exploring the celebration. Meanwhile, Mika stretched her senses farther. Patterns. Intent. Power being directed rather than merely indulged. She wanted closer.

A cup appeared in front of her before she managed it. Mika stopped. Her eyes went from the vessel to the person offering it, then back again. She had already seen enough people consume the stuff to establish that it wasn't ordinary alcohol. Physiological reactions varied. Emotional responses varied even more. Whatever was inside appeared deliberately intended to alter perception. Possibly susceptibility as well.

Mika took the cup. She smelled it first. "What's in this?" The answer she received involved truth, revelation and seeing beyond whatever barriers people erected within themselves.

Mika waited patiently for the explanation to finish. "That wasn't what I asked." No better answer came. She looked into the cup. An Imperial Knight would have confiscated a sample. A Moff would have ordered it analyzed. A sensible Dark Side practitioner would probably have watched someone else drink it and studied the results.

Mika Tai En possessed the unfortunate habit of becoming less sensible the more interesting something became. She lifted the cup. There was one final moment of hesitation. Not fear. Calculation. Whatever these people were doing had come to Crucival without asking its governor. The thought nearly made her laugh. If someone eventually discovered who she was, perhaps she would complain. For now, Mika wanted to know what they knew. She drank.

Spoiler: “Loadout”

• Weapons
  • Kurokage – Primary standard lightsaber – Violet blade
  • Yorukage – shoto lightsaber – Red Wine blade

 

[Zavik Maltheris]

T'zarna Khab Phyress Vaelor Mika Tai En

Zavik had heard enough about the Fallen Order to know that whatever was happening on Crucival was not simply some celebration. He had joined the Order, though until now he did not have much reason to cross paths with its members. This seemed as good a time as any to finally see what they were actually doing.

The festivities were difficult to miss. Fires burned across the prairie, music carried through the night, and the townsfolk gathered around their guests with varying degrees of enthusiasm. Zavik paid little attention to the celebration itself. His pale yellow eyes moved across the gathering, taking in the people, the performers, and eventually the strange markings being carved into the earth.

He approached the ritual preparations without much haste, his footsteps quiet against the grass. The biomass flowing through the channels caught his attention almost immediately. He almost reached out a finger to touch it. But, having better judgment then that he simple looked for a few moments and it and the markings.
"Interesting."

His gaze shifted toward the gathering beyond them, then back toward the ritual site. He could feel the Dark Side woven throughout the area. Not merely the presence of practitioners, but something being deliberately constructed through it. Something that seemed intended to bind together forces that normally had little reason to coexist.

That was considerably more interesting. Zavik knew evolution and adaptation well, though his understanding came from a very different perspective. Machines and metal being melded with flesh, technobeasts, cybernetics, that was his area of expertise. Biomass and whatever the Fallen Order intended to do with it was something entirely different.

After a few more moments, someone suddenly placed an odd drink into his hand. Before he could even properly react, the woman who had given it to him had already disappeared back into the festivities. The drink carried a strange yet subtle smell, one he could not quite place.

A syringe extended from one of his fingers, drawing a small sample from the drink for later testing. He didn't drink, just holding the cup for the time being as he approached T'zarna Khab and Phyress Vaelor . He gave a small nod to T'zarna Khab "Been some time since we've seen each other, has it not?" Then facing Phyress Vaelor "As for you, I do not believe we have met."