First Reply Cordially Invited | The Sundering Dawn

[The Fateful Storyteller]

D A T H O M I R

A world mired in shadows and mystery, teeming with magic and the unknown, and home to the ever-famous Dathomiri Witches. Yet the galaxy managed to find itself in an even stranger mystery with the shifting of stars and planets, placing Dathomir in even stranger circumstances. The shifting of the planet had awoken something deep within one of its many temples, a trembling felt in the Force, like a serene lake disturbed by the drop of a pebble amidst its surface. ​

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With the planet shifted, a fissure had formed upon its lands, tearing open a scar that revealed a temple buried beneath its ancient soil. Within the ancient Dathomiri temple, rested ancient halls, entrenched in thick vines that shattered its walls would lie a gateway where no gateway should exist. A mixture of cries for help, torn between sweet and innocent promises as well as threats of unspeakable violence and horror echoing from its threshold. ​

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Who would answer such cries, and what might they find within the desecrated halls of the Dathomiri temple?​

[ Open ]
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Spoiler

OOC:// A lot of psychological work will be done throughout this thread, so if you plan to expose yourself to this, please be receptive/open to what may happen. No permanent psychological damage will be done to your character, unless you want it. This thread may feature some GM'd aspects and may require you to roll a dice as well, so be mindful of what you do.

 

[Rhyse Calder]

A first.

Relegated solely to the Sith capital of Jutrand was a dull affair, even for Rhyse; someone that would sooner remain stuck in the shadow of someone else, treading carefully with a lowered gaze and no attention set upon him. Although, Velok's so-called fortune instilled some level of grit and inspiration in Rhyse. He chafed against the chains of it, either way - desperate to go, equally as desperate to stay.

The droid piloting the ship set it down on the surface of Dathomir, only a short walk from the temple he was sent to investigate. He wondered if it was deemed too dangerous, the worthless life of an acolyte proving a suitable sacrifice to learn something about what was inside. If he lived to tell it.

Tugging on the blade Fellsong, he tread forwards into the temple.

The Fateful Storyteller

 

[Zanami]

Cordially Invited

"The Key to Joy is Disobedience"
- Aleister Crowley -

Location: Dathomir
Gear: In Sig

They're Coming to Take Me Away​

Whispers of a disturbance had reached the ears of Darth Malum of House Marr , who summoned one of the Tsis-kaar known as Zanami. The young abomination listened to the commands given by her superior; and promptly nodding she would investigate these reports at once. Aboard one of the Sith shuttles, Zanami plotted her way to the planet of Dathomir, wondering what had caused the Lord to be so quick to react to happenings on a planet not held by the Sith Order. But it was not in her design to question her orders.

Upon her arrival to the planet, she circled over the temple that was the root of her being dispatched before settling down a few meters away. The Temple was foreboding, a similarity to ancient structures that were found all sprawled out throughout the galaxy; and yet, it seemed different, odd even. The voices remained quiet in her fractured mind, possibly in awe of the edifice as well, which she was grateful for. The voices became bolder and bolder with every passing day; the war for sole control of Zanami's mind constantly raging. She leapt from the shuttle the moment the mechanical durasteel doors parted, her eyes transfixed on the looming structure.

There was something inside, waiting and calculating. She could sense it, almost taste it. Her strength in the Force and the Dark Side was also growing daily, though she still had much to learn and grow from the trickling knowledge bestowed to her from her mentors. She didn't believe in fear, an emotion surgically removed by Mother and Father when they sought to rearrange her mentally, physically, and emotionally, she had come to accept. But Zanami was also not foolish to believe she was unbreakable; and thus, she slowly crept up the stairs leading up to the Temple's entrance, aware she was being observed.

Switching to her infrared sight to combat the darkness as she entered the Temple; she casually took stock in her surroundings. There was something here. And it was waiting.

The Fateful Storyteller / Rhyse Calder

 

[Fellsong]

The blade slumbered, dulled by its inadequate host's ability to offer a steady supply of flesh and blood. His master however deemed them fit to wield the hungering blade - so long as the master offered his essence, Fellsong would abide the acolyte's presence and offer him his boons. It was only once the two had arrived on Dathomir did Fellsong seem to awaken, disturbed by the presence it felt. His voice telepathically echoed into Rhyse's mind, a harsh voice.

"Something ancient is here boy... Be mindful of where you step..."

Fellsong glowed with a subtle, pulsating red along its length, the blade seeming to have a more visceral reaction. Whatever had awoken here was older than he, and that concerned the Sith that resided in the sword. Such great time was a prison that was reserved for seldom few, and was often made by even more ancient magic.

Rhyse Calder ​

 

[Rhyse Calder]

Those words did not ease his mind, writ plainly in the small frown that Rhyse wore so well. Something of a question as to whether it came with those words, or merely sat there forever.

"I see," he said, though that word from Velok rang through: audacity. Rhyse steeled himself, a breath and a beat, and said those words once more with finality. "I see."

He crossed the threshold, Fellsong in-hand, with a newfound sense of determination. A mask, maybe, but one Rhyse was eager to wear forevermore.

Fellsong

 

[Zanami]

Cordially Invited

"The Key to Joy is Disobedience"
- Aleister Crowley -

Location: Dathomir
Gear: In Sig

They're Coming to Take Me Away​

Dragging her left hand across the passing wall to her left, she stared into the darkness as she calculated her steps. The old ancient Temple was cold, as wisps of her breath danced out in front of her mouth when she exiled. Zanami found this odd, considering the temperament of Dathomir's surface. None-the-less, she ventured forward always aware of her surroundings. She came to that proverbial fork in the road, and again that sensation of oddness washed over her. Which way to go?

With a shrug of her shoulders, the teenage Sithspawn chose left. At least there was some semblance of illumination toward the backend of the left tunnel, where the right tunnel was drunk with absolute darkness. As she began walking down the narrow tunnel, she couldn't recall why she chose this route over the other. Had that decision been made for her? And to the lack of her knowledge as to why, she noticed her hilt was held fast in her right hand. Odd indeed.

Arriving at the tunnel's end, another fork in the road; and littered on the floor was the skeletal remains of small creatures. She chuffed slightly and chose right this time, or did she? She was beginning to question the sanity of this Temple, and question why the voices in her head had remained silent so far. There was something definitely spooky going on with in the is Temple; and she aimed to unravel the mystery.

 

[The Fateful Storyteller]

D A T H O M I R

The architecture of the temple was old, far older than one who might be familiar with Dathomir's temples would be accustomed to, suggesting that it had been around for who knows how long, buried beneath the earth. The temple beckons, a distant thunking sound heard at a steady, rhythmic pace, enticing its guests deeper into its desecrated halls, subconsciously guiding them toward its source. ​

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As they crossed the threshold, the atmosphere seemed heavier and thick enough to choke on the deeper in the guests ventured; breathable, but filled with a sweet yet repulsive aroma in the air. The air was cold - frigid enough to see one's own breath. The distant thunking sound seemed to grow louder with each passing step, though the rhythm and frequency between each sound seemed to grow as well.​

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No matter which way they went, the corridors of the temple seemed to go on forever, and if they tried to go back the way they came, a new set of corridors appeared, as if the temple itself was shifting. Nothing of the temple's layout seemed to make any sense, yet it still continued on for what might seem like an eternity. That is until both its guests arrived in the same chamber, a large circular room enveloped in darkness.​

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A pulsing glow would illuminate a singular doorway between the two, ushering the temple's guests to it.​

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[ Rhyse Calder | Zanami ]

Feel free to roll a d20, or just freely allow whatever happens.​

 

[Rhyse Calder]

He breathed a sigh, one that came at great length.

These halls were old, ancient, with all the dust to prove it. He placed a palm on a wall, calloused calloused flesh swept aside an old marking, his eyes squinting, as if that added focus would allow him to read old and familiar glyphs. To no avail, of course.

Rhyse took a step, the sound of his boot going through an old, now shattered rib cage seemed to startle him, somewhat.

"This place sucks," he lamented quietly.

He turned the final corner at last, entering the chamber with the pulsing doorway. Though upon seeing another present, one that more greatly resembled a monster, Rhyse swiftly rose Fellsong as if to defend himself with it.

"Who are you?" He exclaimed with his best scowl, "What are you doing here?"

The Fateful Storyteller Zanami

 

[The Fateful Storyteller]

D A T H O M I R

The distant thunking sound slowed as if coming to a stop before ceasing entirely. The pulsing glow of the doorway halted as it went dark, plunging the room into darkness. Several braziers mounted to the pillars in the room lit, casting faint, orange light in the room, dimly lighting the vast room.​

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Suddenly, a sharp pain seems to stab at the back of your skull like a chisel being struck against it, interrupting any introductions that were to be made. The air seems to vibrate in your ears followed by the sensation of frigid ice-cold water seeming to flow through your veins. Just as quickly as the intrusive assault on your senses came, it disappeared.​

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A voice spoke out from the dark, echoing all around them addressing them one by one. ​

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"A human and a parasite..." the voice spoke as if to the right of Rhyse Calder .​

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"An Arkanian monster..." the same voice spoke as if to the left of Zanami .​

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It was a voice that seemed to whisper directly into each of their ears, as if directly next to them.​

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"And a pale Lepi..."​

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A set of pearlescent buckteeth materialized in the darkened doorway forming into a grotesque grin, seemingly from nothing as a clapping was heard, coming closer and closer. A set of bloodred eyes soon appeared. Each clap made seemed to reveal more and more of the voice's owner, the darkness pulling away like a veil as a tall, lanky Lepi materialized from seemingly nothing. The pale Lepi's hands came together with a final clap as his eyes shifted from red to orange. The pale figure leaned forward to bow. Every instinct in your bodies told you to fight or run, a conflicting pull for irrational actions to be taken to your benefit or detriment.​

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"What a wonderful start to an appalling story...Welcome, to my humble prison."​

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[ Rhyse Calder | Zanami ]​

 

[Zanami]

Cordially Invited

"The Key to Joy is Disobedience"
- Aleister Crowley -

Location: Dathomir
Gear: In Sig

They're Coming to Take Me Away​

All in a short span, the room went dark, then casted into illumination that was dimly acceptable, negating physical attributes for Zanami. The lighting bordered between the light and the dark, frustrating which spectrum of vision to implore when she felt an almost familiar pain in the back of her skull. This pain, however, was far more piercing to the ones she was subjugated too when Mother and Father gone tinkering. Far more terrifying, far more painful. Zanami put her left hand to her head, as if that could exorcise that demon, the other trying to reach for her weapon, for no other reason as being brutally reminded by the Masters on the ideal of survival at all costs. Her other voices, they screamed in unison, almost pushing Zanami to a knee. And she was cold. Painfully cold.

First the quietness, the return to normalcy.

Then that voice.

Zanami stood bewitched by this materialization, her eyes locked. Calculating. Defensive. Staunch. What came at the end of the manifestation was a species she never seen before. Zanami blinked, wondering if this was a vision, or some other mental trick being broadcasted directly into her mind. Zanami eyed the thing up and down, jealousy washing over her like raging waters crashing into the rocks. It was beautiful, far exceeding her own appearances. Then it clapped and spoke again.

That one simple word, prison, spur the young Sithspawn to quickly observe her surroundings more thoroughly. She knew prisons. Mother and Father held her in a prison, though they called it a lab; to Zanami it was one in the same. Then she fought alongside a Jedi to escape a prison where their lives held more value alive than dead; they had fell into a trap together, Jedi and Sith alike. And now this, another prison. She cared nothing for prisons.

Zanami smirked before replying to that thing, "Prison?" She shot a quick glance to the other unsuspected invitee to fact check she was not hallucinating; and got her answer immediately. "Why would you bring us to a prison," the teenage girl said more annoyingly than inquisitively, testing this animal looking creature, "Surely the solitude has been peaceful. Why disturb it now?"

Zanami ran her tongue over her sharp canines slowly whilst she observed this jester recalling the previous pains; wondering if this thing was the root. Nodding in disbelief of the situation she added, "I do not fear ghost stories. And I do not fear you."

Rhyse Calder / The Fateful Storyteller​

 

[Rhyse Calder]

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His tightening grip on Fellsong never seemed to let up, only strengthening as the first of the two abominations was wordless in the face of his meekly asked questions. The whitening knuckles were a tell-tale sign of his stress, alongside the rounding shoulders. If Fellsong was to speak now, Rhyse knew it would only be to declare him a coward once more.

Maybe it was true, though Rhyse hardly had the time to ponder that as an indescribable pain bore into the base of his skull. A stinging stab, like lightning coursing through his spine and up into his brain. He all but crumbled, one-half of his face tensing as he fought to remain on his feet. Only a long, relief-filled sigh followed afterwards.

He looked to the self-declare pale Lepi, eyes fighting to remain un-widened.

"What do you mean by prison?"

The Fateful Storyteller Zanami

 

[Rhaz Camoa]

R H A Z . C A M O A

| Location | Unknown Derelict Temple, Dathomir​

| Company | Rhyse Calder , Zanami ​

The blade Fellsong was unusually silent in Rhyse's grasp, the silence only broken by the Lepi, "I wouldn't count on your little blade to help you here boy. Neither your parasite nor either of you have any power here. The Sith certainly seemed to have lowered their standards by the looks of you both. But please, I welcome you to try your hands. It certainly would be fun."​

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The Lepi snapped his fingers as several more braziers lit up, illuminating the room to reveal more clearly the enigmatic figure. The Lepi chuckled as the two asked their questions, "Oh to be so woefully unaware. How I've missed such blissful ignorance.". He raised his hands up, both gloved in white as he lifted a finger in each.​

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"Well dear friends, clearly I am not a native of this wretched planet and clearly this isn't a place I would call home." He waved his two index fingers before bringing them together, "Put two and two together, and what conclusion should that bring you to?" His voice was steeped in insincere sarcasm, before he continued on, not giving either the chance to respond, "Those wretched witches of course are to blame." He practically hissed the word, a flash of anger, before he seemed to pull his emotions back and collect himself. ​

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Upon the floor appeared to be a circle of ancient Dathomiri glyphs, and a massive crack running through it as the Lepi spoke with a smile. "But their seal has weakened enough for me to finally break free it seems and their time has passed." The shifting of planets had removed Dathomir from where the seal was at its strongest and most potent.​

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"Now... What year are we in...?"​

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He brought his hands together in a singular clap. A sharp spike seemed to stab between both your eyes, as if directly behind your skull, an unseen hand intrusively sifting through as memories seemed to flood your minds as the Lepi perused through your past to ascertain his own present. Recent events rushed through as he plucked what information he was in, an unamused expression on his face. Several millennia seemed to have passed from what he recollected, an agonizing eternity. ​

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He reached into his pocket and pulled out a golden pocketwatch, glancing down at it as he spoke, "I assure you my dear, I am very far from a ghost, hence why those ancient hags kept me locked up in here. Nothing like the little cage mommy and daddy kept their little monster in." His sentence was punctuated by him shutting the pocketwatch. In an instant he had vanished from both their sights, only for his voice to be heard next to the Arkanian, ​

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"I am far worse."​

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