Gather the Migrant Fleet (Ember of Vahl)

[Joycelyn Zambrano]

The Dark Lord, The Prophet's champion and the chain that tethered the Ember of Vahl, had fallen. It was believed that he was the one who would guide them to their ancient home. With this promise, they had grown dormant, complacent within the confines of the Empire. The quest for their home was all but forgotten.

They had forgotten who they were.

However, when the Dark Lord fell, the void started calling to the Children of Vahl. Their complacency was replaced by an insatiable longing, and no matter how much their fulfilled their carnal desires, no matter how much power each Vahla amassed, they could not shake the call of the deep dark reaches of space; the call for home.

The Vahla were not abandoning the Empire; there would always be en Ember in the One Sith. However, they could no longer remain eclipsed in the shadow of the Sith. They, as a people, had to transcend the Sith's obsession with galactic conquest, or they would find themselves assimilated in an ideal not their own.

[member="Darth Isolda"], Chosen of Vahl, had issued an order: Gather the Migrant Fleet.

It was an impressive sight. The size and power of the military branch alone was considerable, but with them followed a myriad of private ships, some small, some great. Many had been repainted for the occasion, showing divergence from their origin and solidarity with the quest. Those who were not assembling the fleet -some stranded, some with families, and some simply chosen as representatives to remain- prepared a massive feast. Funeral pyres were raised for the night's sacrifice, and young hopefuls made themselves ready for trials of strength, courage, and dedication to the goddess.

Joycelyn Zambrano was among the youths ready to show their skill to the watchful eye of the Goddess and to the Prophet. She sat on her knees with her hands on her thighs. Her brown eyes stared into a fire in front of her while her hair was braided. Her skin had been saturated with oils, making her dusky skin glisten in the light of the fire. Her lips muttered a silent mantra, prayers for favour from their fiery goddess.

[member="Lassiter"] @Ember of Vahl

 

[Julian Viles Priest]

[member="Joycelyn Zambrano"]
[member="Darth Isolda"]
[member="Lassiter"]


Physically, Julian was fully Vahla, spiritually even as there was never a day he didn't offer words to the Goddess.There was never a moment he felt the need to be home...wherever home was. He knew home was lost, he knew the longing was what drove the Ember, but even then, Sith teachings etched in his skull, Mandalorian culture held his hand. Julian tried with all his might to embrace the Mandalorian in him, that hardcore, battle ready soul that had infiltrated him. It was all he had to call home, Mandalore, maybe just maybe, one day he would take it for his own.

Audacious dreams that would never be met, that was what spiraled in Julian's head as he walked slowly up behind a woman kneeling, worshiping the one and only Vahl.

Behind the T-shape helmet, Julian watched her carefully. Danger screeched from her, darkness oozed, and only but respect was all he could offer to the woman. All he could do was watch for a moment longer before whispering the words, "Aliit ori'shya tal'din."

The Mando Vahla knelt next to the woman, in full armor, and whispered his own praise to the Goddess.

 

[Joycelyn Zambrano]

As Joycelyn's braid was wrapped around her head and tied in with her otherwise short hair, she heard a voice speaking somewhere behind her. She did not understand the tongue, but she could recognise it anywhere: Mando'a. Not many spoke the Mandalorian language in the midst of a Vahla gathering. Especially seeing as the few Vahla residing in Mandalorian Space were heretics who denounced their chosen Prophet, a disgrace to the Goddess of fire. She raised her left hand, dismissing the girl set to make sure Joyce had what she needed before the trials. The girl did not go away, but stepped back and to the side. She knew she would be needed.

"Brother, take off your helmet and feel her heat. She does not shed it for iron skin."

Joycelyn's eyes did not move from the fire. She didn't want to be too harsh in her judgement. The Vahla were spread thin, over many cultures. Some cultures had a habit of dominating. She hated it, but it was fact. She saw it in herself as well. The Epicanthix blood in her veins, the name of Zambrano, they were also part of her. It was her choice that had turned her to the flames of Vahl. Choice came from knowing, so by giving knowledge, she would give this armoured man a choice: Hide behind your iron, or open up to her warmth.

"Fy gwaed yn tân; y tân o Vahl"
My blood is fire; the fire of Vahl.

[member="Julian Viles Priest"]

 

[Julian Viles Priest]

Hissing confirmed the seal broken as he removed his helmet, and allowed the blood red hair of his to drop over his face only for him to shake it to the right of his head. He placed the helmet on the ground, and clasped his hands into his lap as his red-orange eyes seemed to devour the woman before him. His face showed now emotion, no expression, just blankness. With one blink of his eyes, his mouth moved,

"There is no where her fires do not touch."

Homage to the Goddess, acknowledgement of her all powerful being.

The only express was in his eyes, curious, wondering, always searching for...something. They never left her. Was he reading her body language, or sizing her up? Probably both. Julian wondered who this woman was, and for what purpose the Goddess brought him here before the young lady. Easily, he felt, he could test her mettle, the accustom ways of the Mandalorians, but this was nor the place or time.

He opted for another path.

"You remind me of her fire, brilliant, yet wild. Powerful, and yet fragile. I pray she smiles upon you in your trials, that her blaze may guide you, give you strength."

The most he had ever really spoken without actually saying something bizarre, and unnecessarily violent. In fact, Julian was pretty sure he just described her beauty in his eyes without thinking about it.

"Sister, are you afraid of what the future holds for us? Do you believe she will watch over us? Do you miss...home?"

Again, Julian's mouth opened without him thinking.

[member="Joycelyn Zambrano"]

 

[Joycelyn Zambrano]

She could feel his eyes upon her, but she didn't take her eyes away from the fire. It was her focus, it sharpened her. After he called her fragile, her eyebrows twitched in curiosity. She had never before been called fragile, nor really been compared to fire. Still, the word delicate, it was not one that sat well with her. It was the Zambrano in her that protested, and it showed as she shifted her shoulders. The muscles of her mostly exposed back rippled as her collarbones popped. The play of the firelight exposed the horisontal scars on her neck. Each one represented defeat.

"I do not fear for our future. Vahl favours the strong, and so that is who we must be."

She finally broke contact with the fire and turned her head to look at Julian. Her brown irises were speckled with purple, shaped like a thousand little stars in a dark brown void. Over her eyes, she had a visible epicanthic fold. It was a very uncommon feature in the Vahla, but appeared in every Epicanthix. With Joycelyn, it was reduced, but present. Other than the fold, she did not differ much from the other Vahla, despite being a half-breed.

"As for home, we all long for it. That is why we can never truly settle anywhere. The Sith would offer us any planet, if we asked. But until we find our planet, the fleet is our home."

She returned her gaze to the fire and exhaled deeply to focus.

"Are you participating in the trials today?"

Joyce waved her left hand, and the girl who had braided her hair started painting on Joyce's back. It was not obligatory, but she found it intimidated her contestants if she wore imagery on her back.

[member="Julian Viles Priest"]

 

[Julian Viles Priest]

In Julian's eyes, you couldn't help but think there existed very distinct similarities in both cultures he found himself attached to, trials, family, callings, these all bonded them together. Everyday was a trial for the young man, everyday he spent wondering if he was going to die this day, or the next, and how best to use what he was given. Fortunately, this woman would never see what lay beneath the armor, the skin he wore. Even Julian himself could not remember what happened when he was sent out to be someone he wasn't.

A rough noise came from his throat as he cleared it, and adjusted himself to cross his legs. The fleet was home? For now he would accept that. Embers all knew that Isolda had chosen the champion, who had failed, and this was the result of that failure. Who's failure was it? Hers, or the champions?

He had done enough research, and study to know this woman was not fully Vahla, a half blood, but it made no difference to him, she was his sister, his aliit (family).

"If she wills it, I will endure it."

His eyes adjusted to the fire, the light bounced off them, giving them a soft glow effect. He watched the little one place paint on the young lady's face, and smiled to himself. The smile was half crooked, a bit of a tell he was not all there, and placed his helmet on his head.

"Just as you use your own tactics of fear, I use my own." His voice came out with distortion due to the radio output of his helmet. "Scars, are tells of great battles. What doesn't kill you, makes you stronger."

He said in retort to his witnessing of her scars. He had his own, but not from battles. Not yet.

"I am Julian. I would like to be your companion through your trials...if you would have me."

[member="Joycelyn Zambrano"]

 

[Joycelyn Zambrano]

"Julian, Joycelyn."

She tilted her head the other way, letting the girl paint her neck. Eyeing the armour, she was a bit curious as to what he meant. Then again, he was obviously not grown up in the culture of the Vahla. He didn't know the games. Well, neither had she at first, but she had stuck around and studied it. This boy next to her seemed a bit stuck in his Mandalorian ways.

"I compete in the burning ring; There are no companions there and no armour. It's flesh versus flesh, each on their own."

After the girl had painted her neck, she drew white stripes over the scars, highlighting the horisontal lines before continuing on the arms. Joyce smiled at Julian, her teeth glistening white against the darker hues now covering her skin.

"If you want armed combat, there's the shooting range and some duelling going on. Less traditional, but quite fun."

She intended to go to some of the other games later, unless he was put in a hospital bed for the remainder of the feast, of course. It was possible, but she would prevent it. She wanted to win, to feel the glory. She would win. Determination flamed up within her a little more each second as she thought about her challenge. She would cleanse herself of fear and become fire incarnate: A warrior of Vahl - It was the dream.

"If you want to go into the ring, you will have to hurry and get ready. I'm afraid last-minute-entries don't get much help, but you do have time to oil up."

[member="Julian Viles Priest"]

 

[Julian Viles Priest]

[member="Joycelyn Zambrano"]

The man had to smile at the thought of joining on this trial by fire, flesh, and hand to hand combat. But, Julian had to shake his head no at the offer, and stand up. "If I needed to prove myself, it would not be against brothers, and sisters, but against enemies who trample on her most holy name."

He placed his hands on the small of his back, and titled his head. "I do not think I could find myself to be aggressive towards you anyways. Someone who captures my attention as long as you do...is special. Not much about flesh finds my fancy. But tell me, sister, what do you suggest would be best for my path?"

 

[Joycelyn Zambrano]

"But tell me, sister, what do you suggest would be the best for my path?"

Joycelyn stood. Her body was largely painted purple with swirling patterns in darker shades. Her skeletal face turned to Julian, purple speckles becoming apparent in her brown irises. The toothy maw of her face-paint twisted as she smiled wide and looked the Mandalorian top to toe.

"If you will not participate in our trials, then there is only one way to prove yourself to the Goddess."

She did not really care about his affections, he was just another young boy in her eyes. But he was also a potential soldier of the faith, that was something she wished to help inspire. Of course, only true inspiration could come from Vahl, but Joycelyn felt she could help turn him to her true flames, to the Ember's cause. They were at war, a war for vengeance over those who had deprived them of home.

"War."

Joycelyn's eyes were alight upon speaking the word, she gripped Julian's arms and looked into his eyes.

"Fire and blood in sacrifice to our goddess. Vanquished Jedi burned for her glory, and when they are vanquished, the cinders will point us home."

With a nod, the Vahlacanthix let go of Julian's arms and turned away to make her way to the pits. Her bare feet left clear prints in the sand and the firelight played with the paintings on her skin.

[member="Julian Viles Priest"]