Private Emancipation

[Karala Midwan]

Location: Korriban Ruins

Karla had strayed, she had allowed her heart to be deceived. She believed that Passion could be for another, and not for the Darkness itself. She had grown weak in her former state, and now she was caste into the crucible of the Ruins, a fitting image of what she was. Her body was now marked in scars all over, and her boots removed for she was on unholy ground. There in the broken cities she was reminded of what it meant to be a Sith, to be broken and reforged in the fires of hatred. Hatred of herself that grew with each step, her toes flexing on the slab of stone, gnarled roots moving about as fissures of black, decaying as all living things do. She began to walk quietly, her head sheltered by a crimson hood.

There in the Ruins she stood, her long black locks flowing as if falls down the cliffs of her red chest. Her eyes fixating on something stirring as she drew the hilt of her saber, a weapon that for eons her people had used to great effectiveness, and who's symbolism of mocking their chief enemy had been lost. Snapping the blade to, it hissing and as blood, its heat felt on her face as she held it aloft and saw the Black Hound, its red eyes looking upon her. With a howl it charged, its black razor back tearing through the air as it came at her, its fangs bearing like gold, and its fore paws with claws that met the kyber borne blade that began to spark as Karla caught it and rolled away from the collision with this creature.

The Tu'kata began to turn, it beating the dusty ground with its claws as it kept its blood eyes on the Pureblood. The contrast of the two natives was stark, her bare feet making no noise, and with fine trimmed nails, and the hairy shadow paws with curved claws of fine bronze. The blood eyes in all that black against her who was a body of blood and only black locks. They both had the signs they came from this world, and now the challenge was for supremacy, as ever was the way of anything on Korriban. Karla would not yield, she had grown soft and now this world was urging her to rise.. to rise from the ruins of her former life and become Sith! The Hound began to charge, and she ran at it, her feet rising up in the dust as her robes trailing behind her, her blade humming as she swept it to her side with both hands and began to cut from an angle as if to make a tail. The two met and there was loud welp, and smoke rising from the Tu'kata that was now laying on its belly, Karla panting as she stood. When she turned there was symphony of howls, as more red eyes began to peer from the shadows beyond the two obelisks, she would not recoil, no.. she would take on the pack and come out stronger!

 

[Karala Midwan]

The Pureblood stood there, her blood blade humming in tandem with her heart beat. All around were the charred hides of he Hounds, smoking rising from them her ruby skin was wet with the dew of this strain. Her wrist was marked with scratches, her nerves carrying that pain inside. And yet she refused to cry out from these lacerations, instead there she stood in the cradle of examination. She could feel it, the air was crisp and cold, the presence of the Dark was upon everything here, and she was being weighed in the balance. Was she worthy? Her bloodline cried out that she was, A Midwan, one of the Great Houses of Old that ruled this world. The problem is that power did not pass through progeny, it had to be seized, taken and kept. Bogan did not rest upon those who because of familiarity, it favored boldness, it favored strength.

Titling with Tu'kata had made her a target of the Dark Power, it swept around her in its chill. Though to maintain the interest of the dark side, one had to do more than simply tame the Hounds of Korriban. She would have to push herself further, and so she looking to one of great mountains of Moraband, as lightning on a clear sky seemed to fall. Was that as sign of permission or an omen that she would fall as the bolt and be snuffed out? Karala would find out. She taking her saber, began to walk on those bare soles, wiggling her toes as she began to make for peaks, pulling her red hood over her head. She was hardening under this Trial, after all that had happened, here there was simply her and the Darkness, seeing if in that fine and royal blood if there was something there.. greatness or was it only the illusion there of. For the Ancient Sith had been crushed and made slaves to the Dark Lords because despite their natural and familiar connection to the dark side of the Force, they had not pressed past the boundaries as their overlords had.

Quieting the cries of her blade that was as restless as her own soul, the bled blade rertracting in its fire into the darkened hilt as she carried it in her hand. She began to walk towards the peaks of teeth that held for her more woes, there she would in the jaws of her homeworld be swallowed up or emerge as a tongue to sweep others into the Void...

 

[Arkane]

Deep in the heights of the Mountains of Moraband, there was a small runic place that had stair cases of stone that sircled the precipices, some of them half broken, so that one had to use the Force to navigate further up. There lurking in the shadows was a presence.. shrouded and yet aware of the movement of this Pureblood that was scaling the cliffs. In the shadows it caste a glance at the determination of this acolyte. Seldom did those down at the Academy or among the Tombs come to the tops of his dwelling, those that did often had no awareness of Him, for he cloaked himself in the Darkness, them being young, impulsive, and prone to their own elevation paid no heed, and so he was left undisturbed. This one was different, she was wrestling with the terrain and with herself, she was climbing not to pass some trial imposed by the Lords, nor to prove something to seek some boon from Bogan, rather he searching her mind was able to divine that she was acutely aware of her weakness and seeking in this climb a rebirth. She was pelegrin, a pilgrim, and this garnered his interest...

 

[Scylla]

Scylla could sense her Husband stirring, that he was sensing the One who was rising to their home. Rarely did Arkane take notice of the "fools" who came so high up, and yet she could feel him searching this interepid traveler. So she was detetmined to seek this one out and snuff out this curosity if it proved "problematic."
Upon seeing her, a woman as red in complexion as herself, Scylla felt the furnance of jealosy burn. Had her Husband taken an interest because of her beauty? If so she would make him pay for that dearly! No, first she would carve her up and bring back her corpse, to prove to him that she was not worth his attention.
Waiting up on one of staircases floating on the side of the mountain, Syclla took her two shoto sabers like teeth, and prepared to pounce as Nexu upon this poor soul. Seeing her at last come to next case, she leapt down upon her snapping the two blades to life and striking as if they were falling stalactites.
She let out a primal scream as she was now upon the Pureblood, taking her two fangs to devour this one that had caught her Husband's mind!

 

[Karala Midwan]

Karala had found the winding steps with their great gaps that lead to the peak. She would leap with an invisible boost in mid air and land on the next set of stairs, the stonework of witch wobbled in its tan crumbling state. She came to another, sweat dripping down her chest to her breasts, when she heard a loud double snap, and a cry, and upon her fell a figure with long red tentacles. She drew up her saber hilt in haste, and calling forth the blood blade caught the two short blades from this assailiant.
"By the Force! Why are you attacking me?"
She was eye to eye with the Twi'lek, who have minature cauldrons bubbling with magma in them, her face painted in angst which puzzled the Pureblood. Karla broke the lock up and held in defensive posture,
"I mean you no harm!"
Her pleas she felt were falling on deaf ears, those strange honeycomb ears of those people who were more known for being slaves and sensual dancers, than masters of the Force.

 

[Scylla]

The Red Twi'lek did a back flip when the lock up was broken and held her twin blades ready for a second strike. The Intruder was pretty, which made it all the more infuriating. She would not let Arkane see her, and risk the chance of losing her husband to this "homewrecker"!
"I will not let you take him from me!"
She leapt and did a Twin Krayt cut with both shotos both coming at diagonals near the arm pits of her enemy. The movement was sublime, the lightness with which Scylla moved was as leaf upon the winds. He black boots pushing off the stone work of the stairs that had them floating up high in the sky around the precipice. This movement was in stark contrast to her continence, which was riddled with jealousy and envy.

 

[Karala Midwan]

Karla was completely bewildered by this assailant. They were shouting about her "taking someone." To which The Pureblood replied,
"Take who? I do not know anyone here!"
That was not entirely true, she had fallen deeply in love with a Pureblood across the Desert Sands of Korriban, and sadly that did not pan out. Now she was trying to find a new birth, to find a new meaning. And now this crazy lunatic was trying to cut her down. The strike from the two sides was not possible to defend, one dug into her lower under arm and she fell on her back in a huff shouting,
"Please! I have no come to take anyone away!"
She let out a cough of blood, and laid there, as her skin was now bunt and the smell of flesh filled the air.

 

[Scylla]

Scylla clinching her teeth with an expression of glee at having made purchase and pushing the Interloper on the ground. She drawing her blades up and twirling them around as her Lekku began to swirl as she prepared to finish the Intruder of. Her eyes were crackling with the inferno, the fire of the dark side. Now at last she would dispatch this threat to her love.
The ecstasy of this moment, of victory over this Acolyte who dared to come to their High Place.

 

[Arkane]

Stepping from the shadows The Shroud drew forth in his Red Robes, the great spikes upon his shoulders like Dragon's teeth. He came and threw his blood gloved hand out in front of the two blades of his Wife.
"Forestall your hand my beloved.."
He drew forth to the Pureblood, leaning over her as she winced, his face was shadow, some field was about it, keeping the blackness over his face even when light attempted to peek beneath the hood.
"Bring her to our Hall my love.. she needs attention."
The words he used were a challenge to her, for he meant them in a purely medical way, but his more singularly focused Wife tended to interpret the word in the other way as meaning to pay attention to. He was ever testing her, her paranoid feelings had been growing stronger in their isolation in the mountains of Moraband. He had considered sending her abroad, to accomplish some tasks, alas she would not go unless he did, her attachment to him a tether which he both found appealing and problematic; such was married life.

 

[Scylla]

The Twi'lek all at once had her moment of savoring taken away when her Husband bid her stop the finishing blow. This incensed her, and worse he wanted her to carry the Girl, and mentioned "attention." What did he mean by attention? She was right! She knew it! He had already started feeling for this Intruder, and now she would have to find a means of eradicating her before He grew more attached. Scylla snuffed her twin sabers and put them on her loose belt and took up the Girl and gave her most cruel look.
She knew that her Husband could read her thoughts and ascertain her plan to destroy this Interloper, this Home Wrecker. Though the fact he had chosen her to take up the Wounded One was curious, was he testing her? Was she faltering? She had felt a chasm growing between them, and it made her feel lost. Only in his arms did she feel safe and whole. Now another was among them and she had competition...