First Reply Dathomir, Dathofar, Dathowhereveryouare

[Xuko Pagoi]

Spoiler: OOC note, please read

Hello there! I'm dipping my toes back into writing here, and I'm looking for a collaborative thread to start with. Our characters don't have to like each other, but I'd very much prefer they be working together in this context than against each other. I also enjoy a good multi-page thread, so please consider before you commit. Thank you!

Xuko decided that it was easier to list the things he did know than the things he didn't.

He knew what his name was, he knew that the small metal cylinder clipped to his belt glowed blue when he activated it and functioned as a very lethal weapon, and he had a word- or, more accurately, another name- that floated frustratingly at the edge of his where his memories should be. Klar.

Other than that, his life could better be described as a giant game of fill-in-the-blank. He was on the planet ________. He was supposed to be _________. He felt like __________.

He'd woken up inside a cave with no clue where he was, no clue how he'd gotten there, and no memories of his life before this barren, hazy red planet. He'd been greeted by a creepy woman who had not been at all interested in answering his inquiries. She was as pale as parchment, with spindly fingers and facial tattoos that accented her severe features. A greenish haze blurred the edges of her robes, and swirled hauntingly around her feet. The Green Gas Lady (mist, she'd told him) had promised that answers to some of his questions inside the crumbling temple that now loomed ahead of him, without providing specifics. In response, Xuko had swung his weapon at her.

He had mist.

Or, more accurately, the woman had dissolved into mist before reappearing partway across the cavern, cackling at his temper, while he stared at the rock he'd just cleaved in two. "Is that how you thank your patron?" she'd asked him, before vanishing again- for good this time. Sometimes Xuko thought he caught a glimpse of a trailing shadow, or sensed a presence just outside of his peripheral, but each time it proved to be nothing.

There was something to be said for keeping alert on ___________, though. Xuko had quickly learned that the local population was not at all accepting of outsiders. At first he'd been pleased to see another humanoid of his same species, but he'd scarcely made contact before they'd said something about him being "Iridonian filth" and had attacked. Xuko wasn't certain what to make of that, but at least assuming that everything here wanted to kill him made decision-making easier.

The downside was that Xuko was beginning to suspect that it was more than just the other humanoids who wanted him dead- it was as if the planet itself was slowly killing him. Even accounting for the very real problem of a lack of food or drinkable water, or the territorial creatures he'd thus far managed to avoid, Xuko didn't know how else to describe the way in which the planet weighed on him; preying on his doubts, his anger, and the void left by his missing memories.

Xuko set his jaw as he studied the terrain in front of him, planning his approach. The temple was still a few hundred meters away, and the land leading to it was scarred with crevices and rubble. He could make out no observation posts near the structure, but that didn't mean that there weren't unfriendly eyes watching. Going overland was faster, but he'd spotted at least one group of zombie-like figures shuffling in the shadows ahead. Dropping down into the subterranean levels brought a whole new element of risk, since navigating would be much more difficult, but Xuko was certain that the true test awaited him inside the temple...

 

[Laphisto]

Laphisto had spent what little free time he allowed himself chasing rumors of a red world one that bled with the same alignment as Korriban, yet was not Korriban itself. The ancient Sith homeworld was far too dangerous to approach now, its skies thick with sith order patrols and old ghosts that refused to die. But this other world… this one was different. Its energy signature resonated oddly in the Force, a crimson pulse that felt ancient, wounded, and alive.

He told himself this was reconnaissance a chance to log anomalies and confirm whether the reports matched archived planetary data but that was only part of the truth. The deeper reason was far more personal.

Decades ago, an old acquaintance of his, a Dathomiri witch named Tilly, had vanished without a trace. She had been one of his first encounters in this galaxy since being frozen all those years ago. and one of the few Laphisto truly respected: fierce, unpredictable, but unshakably loyal to those she called kin. When she disappeared, he had wanted to search for her, but the timing couldn't have been worse.

The Lilaste Order was still being forged, its foundation fragile and constantly tested. Every moment of his life had been consumed by logistics, diplomacy, and war. There had been no time for personal quests. And so the years slipped away until only her name and the echo of her laughter remained.Now, though, he had a reason to return. Or rather, an excuse.

His newest apprentice, Aknoby , had spoken of a red world when they first met a place from the edge of his memory, hazy yet persistent, like a dream he couldn't shake. The boy's recollection was fractured, his past veiled in confusion, but the way he described it had stuck with Laphisto: the burning sky, the dead soil, the whisper of something watching. Dathomir fit too many of those details to ignore.

If this was the world he remembered, then perhaps its landscape would stir something in him unlock a fragment of memory that could explain who he truly was and where his story began. And if not… then at least Laphisto could tell himself he'd finally gone looking for Tilly.

As the Conquests agenda dropped from hyperspace, the red planet filled the viewport storm-wracked, violent, and beautiful in its desolation. The Force trembled around it, thick with old magicks and memories that refused to fade. Laphisto exhaled slowly, his claws resting on the console as he studied the swirling atmosphere below. "Dathomir," he murmured to himself, the word heavy with meaning. "Let's see what secrets you've been keeping."

As the Conquest's Agenda broke through Dathomir's upper atmosphere, the crimson world stretched beneath it like a living wound vast, scarred, and whispering with forgotten power. The corvettes repulsors flared as it touched down upon a plateau of cracked red stone, the air thick with the scent of dust and decay.

The boarding ramp hissed open, and Laphisto descended into the storm. Each step landed with weight and purpose, his taloned feet grinding against the rock, leaving shallow impressions that filled almost instantly with drifting red sand. The wind howled across the plateau, carrying with it the faint echoes of chanting or perhaps it was only the groan of the planet itself.

He paused at the edge, his gaze sweeping over the landscape. Below him, the ground dropped away into a scarred valley where a structure loomed from the dust a temple, half-consumed by the planet yet stubbornly defiant in its ruin. Its spires jutted skyward like broken bones, black stone glistening with a faint oily sheen. The air around it shimmered with dark energy, the kind that carried weight even on the breath.

Perhaps, he thought, he could find something of value within. A dark side relic, a fragment of old magick something that could be safely contained and studied by the scholars and adepts of the Aurora Station academy. The students there had learned much of light and balance; a controlled lesson in shadow could serve as a necessary contrast.

But that wasn't all that drew him. There was someone down there. He could feel it a presence fractured and raw, thrumming faintly within the Force like a wounded animal's heartbeat. Pain. Confusion. Isolation. It was a signature that resonated too strongly to ignore. Laphisto exhaled through his nostrils, the sound low and deliberate. Perhaps Diarch Rellik had been right after all he was drawn to the broken, the outcast, and the lost. They mirrored too much of what he once was: a soul torn and abandoned to time.

Checking his gear one final time, Laphisto ran a claw along the magnetic seal of his weapon holster, feeling the reassuring click as it locked into place. The air was thick with heat and dust, the wind tugging at the edges of his armor as he stepped toward the cliff's edge. Below him, the red valley yawned wide jagged stone, winding ravines, and the unmistakable silhouette of the temple carved into the heart of the rock. Its dark entrance pulsed faintly with power, like a wound that refused to close.

He crouched low, talons scraping against the stone, and spread his wings. The motion was deliberate and powerful the membranes catching the dying light. A moment of silence. Then he jumped. The drop tore the sound from his throat. Wind roared past his ears as he plunged through the crimson haze, the world blurring into streaks of red and black. His wings snapped open with a deep, booming crack, catching the air and jerking his body violently upward. The strain vibrated through his shoulders, but he held the glide steady, leveling out into a smooth descent.

Below, the temple grew larger with every beat of his wings each downward sweep pushing him faster through the dust-choked air. The glow of his thrusters lit the canyon walls in flashes of teal and gold, cutting through the mist as he angled toward the structure. He banked once, catching an updraft, and landed in a crouch at the edge of the temple's main terrace. Stone fractured beneath his talons as he straightened, wings folding neatly against his back. The air here was heavy saturated with the scent of decay and the hum of buried power.

Xuko Pagoi

 

[Xuko Pagoi]

Xuko stifled a cough into his sleeve, and it came away flecked with crimson. Yep, this planet was definitely trying to kill him. Given a few hours, the Zabrak reckoned that he'd have been able to enter the temple unspotted, but clearly time was not on his side.

At least he didn't need to worry about losing daylight- as far as he could tell, the planet was perpetually lit by a reddish glow- but he ruled out taking the cautious approach and exploring the subterranean pathways towards the temple. Xuko took a deep breath to center himself, then cursed himself as this brought on another bout of coughing.

Ignoring the tangy taste of iron in his mouth, Xuko prepared to step out from underneath the overhang he'd stopped under when his ears pricked in response to a new sound. The first sound Xuko heard was unmistakably the flap of wings, but it wasn't until the new arrival swooped into view that Xuko understood what the strange whooooshing sound was; thrusters.

Xuko immediately assumed it was hostile, frowning as it perched on the edge of the temple's main terrace. Now it would be nearly impossible to enter the temple without a fight, given the commanding view its vantage point offered. The only silver lining was that the being's arrival had gathered the attention of a number of guards in and around the entrance to the temple; perhaps half a dozen of the Zabraks that had attacked Xuko earlier. It was too far away for Xuko to make out specifics, but if they were armed like the previous group Xuko expected them to have an array of spears and energy bows; crude weapons compared to the one he held, but effective nonetheless. They were converging below the winged creature's perch, further reinforcing Xuko's hypothesis that it was some sort of authority figure.

At least Xuko could use the distraction offered by the appearance of the powerful figure to cover some ground in the direction of the temple. Although he still took care to move as silently as possible, his senses on alert for a picket or sentry left behind, the Zabrak ghosted from shadow to shadow as best he could.

Xuko had just slipped into the shadow of a pile of rubble barely taller than he was when the sound of an energy bow's report split the air. The Zabrak immediately dropped into a crouch, his hand dropping to his weapon while he searched for the unseen sniper...

...only to realize that the shots he heard weren't being fired at him; rather, they were aimed up at Laphisto .

 

[Laphisto]

Laphisto had expected resistance the Zabraks of this world were anything but welcoming to outsiders, and even less so to one descending from the sky on wings of fire. Their hostility pressed against the air like static, thick with fear and aggression. He'd barely taken a few steps toward the temple when the first volley came a chorus of thwip-cracks as energy bows released their charge.

With a sharp breath, he raised his hand, the Force flowing through him like muscle memory. Tutaminus. The defensive technique came instinctively now, the air around his palm rippling as he caught the first bolts mid-flight. They splashed harmlessly against his open hand before scattering into harmless motes of light. He shifted his stance, batting away another volley with a casual precision that belied the danger of the attack.

It reminded him of Wrathian Kell , and their joint mission to the prison planet of Harridan months earlier how Kell had first demonstrated the technique, catching blaster fire barehanded in the middle of the attack. Laphisto had learned it on the spot, adapting it in his own way. Now it was as natural to him as breathing, and far more satisfying.

But satisfaction was short-lived. The next barrage came heavier, thicker a rain of crimson energy streaking from the temple's lower terraces and cliffside ledges. Even his practiced rhythm couldn't deflect them all. One shot slipped past his guard and slammed into the LO-Va'karis shield enveloping his Armor . The barrier flared a brilliant blue, the impact spider webbing across its surface before dispersing the heat outward with a low hum.

He grunted, more in irritation than pain, and adjusted his footing as another bolt hissed past his head. The flickering glow of his shield painted his armor in pulsing azure light, each impact marking his position for the archers . So, they wanted a fight. Fine.His wings flexed slightly, scattering dust in a short burst of pressure as he extended a hand toward the shooters. The air grew heavy charged as he began to channel the Force more deliberately. he didnt want to spend this time killing these men. he needed to end things fast so he could get on with his mission here

Reaching down to his thigh holster, he drew his LO-22S sidearm in one smooth motion. The weapon came alive in his hand heavy, balanced, reassuring. But unlike the elegant hum of standard blasters, this one offered no whine, no glow. It was all kinetic brutality. He leveled the barrel toward the advancing Zabraks, his stance widening as his finger found the trigger. Then came the first bark.

The gun thundered, sharp and concussive a sound that cracked across the valley like thunder rolling over stone. There was no flash, no crimson bolt, only the blur of solid metal tearing through the air. A .50AE slug hit the nearest warrior center mass, punching clean through armor and flesh before embedding itself into the rock behind him. The Zabrak dropped before he had time to scream.

Laphisto adjusted his aim, pivoting with calm precision. The LO-22S roared again and again, the recoil kicking up red dust as each shot found its mark. The rhythm was mechanical breath, squeeze, shift, fire until the twelfth round left the chamber. When the weapon clicked dry, the silence between shots was deafening.

"Always too quick," he muttered under his breath, ejecting the spent magazine. He holstered the pistol without ceremony, exhaling through his nostrils as the Force coiled around him.

With a flick of his wrist, he pulled at the battlefield. Shards of broken masonry and chunks of red stone rose around him in a wide circle before whipping outward like a hailstorm of jagged debris. Screams echoed as the barrage tore through the second wave of attackers. Those who survived stumbled forward in defiance brave, but foolish.

Laphisto's left hand clenched. The ground responded. Spikes of rock erupted from beneath the charging Zabraks, impaling two of them mid-stride, the motion so sudden it left streaks of blood suspended in the air before gravity reclaimed them. The rest pressed on, desperate or too enraged to stop. The first of them reached striking distance spear raised, face twisted in fury. Laphisto's right hand moved in a blur. The Broad Saber slid free with a metallic whisper, and the air ignited with a snap-hiss. The teal-blue blade flared to life, bathing the temple's stone terrace in cold light.

He met the attack head-on. One stroke clean, efficient and the Zabrak's weapon split in two. The second stroke carved through armor and flesh, the energy blade crackling as it met resistance before passing clean through. The body crumpled at his feet, smoke rising from the cauterized wound. Laphisto exhaled slowly, the hum of his saber cutting through the distant screams and thunder. Around him, the remaining guards hesitated torn between fear and fury. "Stand down," he growled through his helmet's vocoder, his tone more command than plea. The Force rippled through the words, carrying weight. "You don't have to die for this temple."

In short, he hoped the brutal display of precision and power would be enough to scatter what remained of the locals. Smoke still curled from the scorched stone, the scent of ozone and burnt iron thick in the air. The surviving Zabraks hesitated near the temple's edge, their weapons shaking, their courage breaking beneath the quiet weight of what they'd just seen. Laphisto didn't chase them intimidation would serve him better than another fight. Fear was often more effective than the blade. " now go home. back to your familys"

As he advanced, the air seemed to grow heavier. The Force drifted from him like vapor rolling off dry ice faint tendrils of energy that crawled low across the ground. Each step pressed that presence deeper into the earth, the invisible weight of it making the air hum with tension.But unlike most Force sensitives, his presence wasn't purely light or dark. It carried both, intertwined and steady, coiled together under control. To those attuned, it would feel strange unsettling even not the warmth of a Jedi nor the cold of a Sith, but something balanced between them.

Xuko Pagoi

 

[Xuko Pagoi]

Xuko was immediately grateful that he hadn't gotten further in his plan to use the winged beings' appearance as a distraction with which to enter the temple unobserved. One, there was little which easily distinguished him from the other horned humanoids currently being slaughtered. His attire, silhouette, and proximity to the temple entrance would've made it nearly impossible in the thick of the fight to notice that he was not quite the same as the other Zabraks.

Second was the unquestionable display of might that the new arrival wielded. Even from a hundred meters away Xuko could feel the waves of power rolling off of him, like a storm. First was the surgical precision with which it took out a dozen attackers. Then, the very ground was shattered, raised, and weaponized with nothing more than a gesture.

Even accounting for his missing memories, Xuko realized that while the cold grip of fear running up and down his spine was not a common sensation for him it was absolutely the correct response. He and the winged creature were on completely different levels. Then a teal-blue light flared to life, and stayed lit. Xuko inhaled sharply- before coughing again as quietly as he could- as he realized that whoever this creature was that they carried similar weapons. That was where the similarities ended, though.

A more experienced Force-user than Xuko might've been able to read the nuances in Laphisto's Force signature, but Xuko ended up experiencing much the same thought process as the surviving Nightbrothers did; thanking his lucky stars that he was still alive, and seriously questioning what was so important about the temple, anyways?

"You must approach" came the voice of the Green Gas Lady from the air around him; quiet enough that only Xuko could hear but absolutely not what his frayed nerves needed in the moment. Xuko's reflexes took over, and he ignited his blade and struck without thinking.

Again, he mist his "patron", whose cackle faded away into the haze of Dathomir.

Too late, Xuko realized that he'd blown his stealth. If the shimmering blue energy blade didn't give him away, the motion from the falling stone pillar he'd just bisected certainly would.

In that moment, Xuko remembered how to cuss.

"Zhaqexik"


Laphisto

 

[Laphisto]

Laphisto was more than content to walk the rest of the way toward the temple. The Nightbrothers had finally broken and scattered, their retreating shouts fading into the wind. He exhaled through his nose, a low rumble of satisfaction escaping as he powered down his saber, the blade collapsing with a familiar snap-hiss before locking it back onto the mag clamp at his hip.

He reached for his sidearm next. The motion was automatic slide the empty mag out, fresh one in, rack the slide, check the chamber. The solid click-clack echoed off the stone, clean and mechanical. A soldier's rhythm. Once satisfied, he holstered the weapon and straightened up, scanning the terrace. The last few Zabraks had vanished into the mist. Good. He wasn't here to start a war.

Turning back toward the temple, he took in the structure's worn facade old stone, half-collapsed supports, and a faint energy bleeding from the cracks between slabs. He'd seen a hundred temples like it across the galaxy; most held more ghosts than wisdom. Still, something about this one felt deliberate, as if waiting for him.He took a slow step forward and froze.

A sharp snap-hiss cut through the stillness. The unmistakable ignition of a lightsaber.Laphisto's head turned instantly, instincts taking over before thought caught up. His stance shifted, weight balanced, one hand resting lightly near his holster. The sound hadn't come from his own weapon, and none of the locals carried anything that refined.

He waited a heartbeat, listening. A faint hum. The crumble of loose stone. Whoever had lit that blade was close and not trying to stay hidden anymore.His voice came out low, calm, and edged with authority. "That's not something I expected to hear here…" Drawing his sidearm in one smooth motion, Laphisto leveled it toward the source of the ignition the Zabrak and advanced a few paces, arm extended and stance firm. The pistol's matte frame tracked the young man's center mass with practiced precision.

The sudden crash of a falling pillar forced him to move. He dove to the side, landing in a controlled roll that carried him through a cloud of red dust before coming up on one knee. He swung the weapon back toward the target instinctively, eyes scanning through the haze for movement. When the dust began to clear, the shape that emerged wasn't a raider or a Nightbrother it was something else entirely. A young Zabrak, disoriented, coughing, holding a lightsaber that hummed uncertainly in his grasp.

Laphisto's finger eased off the trigger. He let out a short breath, lowering the pistol. His tone was calm and collected "Easy there." He stood fully, , his eyes narrowing behind the visor. Now that he had a proper look at the other's weapon and stance, the realization clicked. He wasn't a raider he was a Jedi. Laphisto gave a low sigh, more weary than surprised. "What's a Jedi doing all the way out here?" he asked, voice steady but edged with curiosity. His gaze drifted briefly from the glowing blade back to the young man's face, studying him confused, cautious, but not hostile.

"Are you alright, lad?" he asked, his voice calm but steady, carrying just enough weight to cut through the ringing silence that followed the fight. He glanced back at the fallen Zabraks before turning his attention to the one still standing near the temple's entrance. "I'm sure they won't be bothering you any further. And I certainly didn't come here to cause you harm you have my word on that."

He took a measured step back, giving the stranger room to breathe, arms folding loosely across his chest. The stance wasn't defensive, but grounded assured, like a man used to calming a tense field rather than escalating it.

Then his eyes shifted. Gold bled into his irises, rimmed with a faint, pulsing red glow. The air seemed to thrum in response, rippling as if reality itself were bracing against an unseen current. Through that subtle transformation, the Force surged outward his sight expanding in an unseen wave that rolled across the area like a storm tide.

It struck the man's aura head-on, crashing against it with the pressure of the ocean against a cliff. In that moment of luminous stillness, he saw everything threads of emotion, the rhythm of the man's fear, and the faint shimmer of his alignment within the Force. It wasn't sight as mortals knew it, but something deeper: a reading of spirit and intent, laid bare beneath the calm, steady glow of his own balanced power.

Xuko Pagoi

 

[Xuko Pagoi]

Xuko stared down the nose of the winged creature's weapon, weathering as best he could the alarm bells that went off in his head in response to it being pointed at him. Such was Laphisto's skill that the feeling didn't fully abate even after it had been pointed elsewhere. Xuko, for his part, kept his lightsaber ignited; however, he lowered it slightly so as not to signal hostility.

But if Laphisto was expecting easy answers from Xuko, they were not forthcoming. Even considering that the Zabrak didn't know where 'out here' was, what he was doing here, or even what Laphisto had called him (Jedi?), it wasn't in Xuko's nature to be chatty with strangers.

All the same, Xuko was seriously considering sharing his current predicament- minus Green Gas Lady, of course. The winged man seemed to know a lot more than Xuko did about where they were and who he was, which could be helpful.

But then the man's eyes shifted ever so slightly, in what could've been dismissed as a trick of the light had Xuko not also been attuned to the Force. The feeling of being studied- no, perceived- crashed over the Zabrak, and he tried to steel himself against it instinctively even as he reeled under the unexpected and unwelcome sensation. Up came the lightsaber again, humming blue blade pointed towards Laphisto as Xuko dropped into a ready stance.

"What are you doing to me?" he hissed, his anger spiking as much from the unfamiliar feeling as from his frustration about feeling outmatched. "I will not be toyed with!"

Laphisto