Ghosts

[Ronan Vizsla]

WAYLAND​

[member="Darth Carnifex"]​

​

The fires burned bright in the main encampment of House Vizsla on Wayland.

Bodies burned, their ashes scattered to help their spirit join with the Manda. Others were joined together in large graves. It all depended on their beliefs. It used to be that every Mandalorian was added to ancestral mass-graves, but these were hard times. Trying ones. Cultural shift was a real thing, when existential crises propped up. Some began to worship the old gods again, others began to assign more value to the physical than before.

Ronan... Ronan wasn't sure of anything anymore.

He sat in his chair, his hearthfire burning behind him as he tried to write the words. Yet they didn't want to come. There was a void in his chest, it ached and that feeling was so strange, so alien that he did not know what to do with it.

Dead, her skin cold, she is gone... her spirit joined.

How had it happened?

She had been fine when Ronan left her to face Yasha, the pretender. But by the time the Alor of House Vizsla had finished his duty to his people? She was gone already. [member="Tamara Wren"] and him had not even been able to share any last words. Her commlink showed that his message to her had been played.

At least there was that.

Not enough.

Ronan blamed Mantis. Somehow they had killed his daughter, his love, his runi and he'd make them pay.

In time.

House Vizsla was leaving Wayland. He didn't trust the child in the palace, didn't trust her advisors, didn't trust anything anymore. There were talks between him and Shysa and Fett, talks that wouldn't have been able to occur before the bloody throne room. Before Ronan realized the weakness and sickness that had infested itself in the fabric of the Clans. Of this Empire. Ronan would burn her body, then they'd leave and... then his war would begin.

"Cabur."

Ronan looked up, one of his personal guards... Devin? That sounded about right. "Yeah?"

"The Dark Lord of the Sith, Darth Carnifex, he has requested an audience with you. He waits outside." A frown of confusion followed. Why would Zambrano want to talk to him? Mantis ruled and Vizsla was leaving.

"He may enter."

 

[Darth Carnifex]

The flap was pulled back allowing the gargantuan silhouette of the Dark Lord of the Sith to enter Alor Vizsla's tent, eyes of mistrust searing into his back as he disappeared into Ronan Vizsla's temporary abode. His body was swath in dark black and maroon robes that disguised his muscular physique, though one would not need to become a master detective to see that the Lord of the Sith was a powerful warrior.

He tilted his head in respect to Ronan Vizsla, the act causing his lightsaber sashed to his waist to glimmer in the light as it too swayed forward.

Sundari would be the last time the Emperor treated with the Mandalorians weaponless.

"Greetings, Alor Vizsla. Pardon my intrusion upon your tending of the dead, but I had to meet with you; especially after what happened at Sundari." Ronan Vizsla had not been the only one to lose a child that day, for dear Ancius had been felled by an errant Mandalorian during the chaos, throwing himself between his father and the assassin's rifle in a moment of utmost loyalty and self-sacrifice. His body had been collected after the skirmish, and already a mighty obelisk was in construction to serve as his tribute on Bastion.

"Sundari revealed to me many weaknesses in the current leadership of the Mandalorian Empire, and while former agreements keep them allied to my Sith Empire I do not hold much faith in their ability to keep the Empire afloat. She is no Ra Vizsla, she can never hope to reach such heights. So I come to you seeking an alternative."

[member="Ronan Vizsla"]​

 

[Ronan Vizsla]

[member="Darth Carnifex"]

Ronan nodded back to Zambrano.

Before gesturing towards a chair in the corner of the tent, it was larger than most and would hopefully be more comfortable for Kaine rather than the usual trouble of trying to fit in a chair made for people half his size. Ever since the war on Kashyyyk Vizsla had a group of Wookiees sworn to it, loyal after Ronan's ferocious fight and slaughter of their Jedi guardian.

Won by sparing them and offering them a place of equal in the Mandalorian clan.

"Sundari showed me many things." He finally said with a thoughtful glance. Most of all that the Mandalorian Empire forged by Ra was weak- he had first assumed that cutting the Mantis child out of its heart would stabilize the nation.

But he was wrong.

Somehow, somewhere, weakness had infiltrated their ranks and Yasha was not the cause. No, just a symptom.

"What alternative is that, Zambrano?"

 

[Darth Carnifex]

"Yasha Mantis is a child, surviving the Netherworld or not. She surrounds herself with fools and mongrels, they will collectively lead the Mandalorian people to ruin. I would rather see the Mandalorians strong and allied with the Sith, a combined force against the Jedi of the galaxy." Long had he thrown off any pretense of subtlety, the time had long passed for that. He was open about his desire to see the Mandalorians and Sith united against a common enemy, and under Ra he had begun to achieve that symbiosis.

Under Yasha? Her childish nature threatened everything.

"Vilaz Munin was a fool for escalating the conflict, but Yasha Mantis played her hand too early in claiming the mantle of Mand'alor. Had she waited and enamored herself to the people she might've had a chance, but that opportunity is long gone. I cannot change what Yasha Mantis has flung into motion, but I can prepare for when it crashes down around her. If Clan Mantis will not prove to be a valuable ally in the Mandalorians, then I seek out Clan Vizsla as an ally instead. I watched your courage and tenacity in the throne room, you are a greater Mandalorian than the Hell Child."

"I seek an alliance."

[member="Ronan Vizsla"]​

 

[Ronan Vizsla]

[member="Darth Carnifex"]

Unexpected.

...or was it?

Mantis had paraded around the Dark Lord of the Sith like her own little puppy back on Mandalore. Made him kneel, allowed him to be attacked and his son to be killed. Oh, she would claim that it wasn't her fault. Not her responsibility. That it was all Munin, but the moment she sat herself down on that throne she had claimed leadership. Part of that was clear-cut responsibility to what happens in your hall.

She had been unable to control her hound and everything spun out of control after that.

"The Clans do not follow me." Vizsla pointed out. He disliked this- not Zambrano, he didn't care about him. The blood staining his hands was irrelevant to Ronan and any Mandalorian who did care was a hypocrite. Their whole heritage and culture was build on the bones and blood of their enemies. "They kneel before the shattered throne of Sundari."

Even some of his own.

"What do you expect of this alliance?"

 

[Darth Carnifex]

"Nothing yet." He said with a wave of his hand, "The time is not yet ripe to right the wrongs of the Hell Child, but there will come a time when her power slips through her fingers like sand. When that time comes the Clans will smell weakness and turn on her, and Mandalore will again be thrown into discord. Destruction will reign as demagogues vie for control, and hundreds of thousands of corpses will litter the soil of Mandalore like wheat in the field."

He breathed out heavily, his words laden with prophetic mysticism. "And your culture will die. The end times began with the planet's ruin, Ra Vizsla was a glimmer of hope for your people to crawl out of the muck of destitution, but now the ground recedes beneath your feet."

"Either the Mandalorians need to discard their old prejudices and unite as a common people, or their line will end and Mandalore will grow cold and stagnant. That is the way of nature, those that cannot adapt will become extinct." It was something that the Dark Lord heavily believed in, it was a driving force of his Sith philosophy and what compelled him to establish his Empire on the ideas of loyalty, brotherhood, and power devoted to a common purpose.

"When that time comes, a new power must rise in Mandalore. No children, no false prophets, but something long-lasting and enamored with great power to enforce the laws of the land. If Yasha Mantis fails, and she will fail, then we must take control."

[member="Ronan Vizsla"]​

 

[Ronan Vizsla]

[member="Darth Carnifex"]

He leaned back and studied the Sith Lord.

This was something that Ronan could respect.

Clear words, clear language, clear meaning. Zambrano said what he meant, what he wanted and didn't color it with meaningless blabber. But that left a single problem between them and his wish. "They killed my daughter, Zambrano." Something tightened around his brows and eyes. An anger deep seething, sorrow buried deeper, it threatened to consume him and it took Ronan all he had to keep a tight leash on it.

"She bled out, while I was forced to defend Mandalore against the Mantis child." The pain that Tam had been going through... one of the doctors had told him. But she had not called for her father even once.

That made him proud.

"I aim to burn the Empire to the ground with Mantis within." Only ashes would remain once he was done. "Would you deny me my vengeance?"

 

[Darth Carnifex]

He rubbed his jaw, contemplating Ronan's words.

The man's anger was palpable, rolling off him in waves that washed the Sith Lord in searing heat. He held it in tightly in check for now, but just barely. The slightest provocation could render him a berserker, blind to reason and pain as he wrought the end of anything and everything within reach. The Dark Lord could sympathize to some degree, the loss of a child is a terrible thing to befall a father; yet even Carnifex's fury abated quickly after Ancius' death.

He briefly mourned his son's demise, but that was all. The dead were dead, and his thoughts were attuned to the living.

"I remember her from that day, she loved you fiercely. Even under the Bral's influence I could sense her devotion to you. There are mystic arts within my repertoire that could salvage the consciousness of the recently deceased from the Cosmic Force, transferring an imprint of their memories and personality into a new vessel. Death is never truly the end, Ronan Vizsla, but a passageway to something greater. Should you beseech me, I could reunite you with your daughter."

[member="Ronan Vizsla"]​

 

[Ronan Vizsla]

[member="Darth Carnifex"]

He had been in the progress of shuffling some of the papers.

Just to give his hands something to do.

But those words made Ronan freeze and slowly he looked back up. The fire of the hearth cast shadows across his eyes for a moment, before he shifted his position and the effect was gone. "You can do this?" Vizsla asked softly, but there was an edge to it. Questions... a lot of them. In that moment Ronan realized that he didn't give a chit about it being related to the Force.

Ra could kark himself.

He didn't jump at it, didn't promise anything. No. Ronan grew more quiet and more cautious now, because he was not a man who looked at positive news without any suspicion.

"Have you brought your son back this way?"

 

[Darth Carnifex]

"The magic I would invoke demands much energy, physically and spiritually. It is not to be performed lightly or frequently. To raise a skeleton or a mindless corpse is easy, they are nothing but constructs of bone and flesh knitted together and controlled by your will. But to pluck your daughter from the Cosmic Force and make her whole again, mind and soul intact?" He let his voice trail off, spreading his hands wide in concession. Even for someone who knew nothing about the intricacies of the Force or the realm beyond life it could be inferred just how drastic a gulf between raising a skeleton and raising a person with their mind intact from the dead could be.

He now clasped his hands, "And if I am to perform this rite for you, I would need several ingredients for the ritual. Primarily I would require that you bring me the soil of a freshly dug grave, and someone roughly around your daughter's age. I don't rightly care how or where you acquire the latter, but they must be alive."

Carnifex didn't specify why he needed someone Tamara's age, but from the fiendish gleam in his eyes the reason for doing so wasn't very pleasant.

But then again, raising the dead wasn't either.

[member="Ronan Vizsla"]​

 

[Ronan Vizsla]

[member="Darth Carnifex"] cared more about a possible alliance with him, than about awakening his own son.

There was no judgement coming from Ronan.

He did not care.

Surprised? Only a little, it was known to all that Zambrano had been a... prolific spreader of his issue. His spawn were pawns in a long game played by the Black Iron Tyrant and that was his business. If it meant that Ronan could see his daughter again? Have her be alive again? "What guarantees do you want from me for this, Zambrano?" The Sith would notice that Vizsla did not seem to be bothered by the thought of having to give someone of Tamara's age.

House Vizsla had a number of prisoners after the invasion of Utapau. [member="Runi Verin"] had been mostly successful in her hurried evacuation and delay tactics, but you could only evacuate so much on such short notice.

They had taken them with the idea of either selling them back to their families as a ransom, convert them into the Mando'ade or sell them off.

It wouldn't surprise him if they had a prisoner.

No, all that Ronan wanted to know was what it would cost him... then what it would cost Tamara. He couldn't imagine that the act of snatching a soul from death itself would be done without a cost to said soul. If the price was his to pay? That was one thing, but could he allow her to pay it, if there was any? That was a question roaming his mind as they sat and spoke.

 

[Darth Carnifex]

The Dark Lord's smile only widened, gray lips pulled back over teeth as the light in the room seemed to dwindle significantly. "I would only need but one thing, Ronan Vizsla, just one thing." He extended his right hand, the shadows hiding within the sleeve writhing in anticipation as the tip of a dagger slowly materialized out of the gloom. It pulsed with dark energy, seething with a malice both ancient and unimaginably cruel; the fear and hatred of a thousand thousand dead etched onto the surface of the curved blade.

The hilt was modeled after the head of a dragon with ruby gemstones for eyes, and seemed to be made from polished bone.

It was truly a despicable weapon of evil.

"A drop of your blood to seal the pact, for is not blood the currency of life? It would be only fair to pay for my services in kind." Upon closer inspection the blade seemed to possess a crimson discoloration along its sharpest edge, the remnant of past bargains? Or of past sacrifices?

[member="Ronan Vizsla"]​

 

[Ronan Vizsla]

[member="Darth Carnifex"]

He extended his hand and the hilt settled easily in it.

Fingers curled tight around it.

Ronan couldn't feel the malice, the anger, the suffering echoing from it. Not after the cure had blunted his connection to the Force to such a degree that everything was more... mute and distant. Not even his own anger found resonance with this artifact. Instead Vizsla balanced silently, let it roll in his hand easily to determine its weight. "Good balance, not very practical in a battle, but good enough to slaughter... animals." Their eyes met and understanding passed one another. "Price of blood, price of soil, price of soul."

A nod followed, but he didn't cut... not yet anyway.

"I will not abandon Mandalore and its people to the Mantis child, Zambrano." Ronan finally said, studying the edge of the blade. There was something in that reflection. It was vague and unshaped, but it felt like a coiling mass. Trapped. It was disturbing even to him. "If you bring my daughter back, whole, herself, I will agree not to burn down the Empire."

That was as close as Kaine would get for him.

"But I will not wait, hiding at the fringes while she ruins us. Is this reasonable to you?"

 

[Darth Carnifex]

He nodded, "That is to be expected."

It would have been madness to try and bar Vizsla from exacting some form of retribution against Clan Mantis for the ignominy they had inflicted upon him and his kin. "Undoubtedly there will be many elements seeking to bring down the Mandalorian Empire now that Yasha Mantis has taken the title of Mand'alor, whittling away at its borders until the core is threatened. We will see how the Hell Child deals with such pressure, and if the Empire can handle such division."

The Sith Empire would stay out of it, continuing on its path of expansion into the areas formerly controlled by the Silver Jedi Order. Rhen Var had recently fallen to the Sith, and now they were poised to strike even deeper towards Voss and Ossus.

"With that said, we have an agreement, Vizsla."

[member="Ronan Vizsla"]​

 

[Ronan Vizsla]

[member="Darth Carnifex"]

"But for two things." Ronan agreed with a nod towards the dagger in his hand. That was one of them, but the other was a question still burning on his tongue. He would give everything to bring Tamara back and that was something Kaine would know now. It was thick in the air, the smell of anger, the taste of pain and the desire to see her back.

But some things weren't his to give away.

"Tell me true, Zambrano. What will the consequences be for my child?" The question was posed and Ronan eyed the Sith at the same time.

"Nothing comes free. What toll will it take on her?"

This wasn't the first time Kaine had done it after all. What price was the Dark Lord paying for his continued returns to the living? It couldn't be easy, couldn't be without consequences. All that mattered was just how rough those consequences were.

 

[Darth Carnifex]

"It is impossible to tell what may befall her once she's been brought back to you, the symptoms of death vary from person to person."

Death was often a violent outcome, your life suddenly ended without much ceremony or warning. Tamara bled out on the floor of the Sundari Palace, her death would have come slow, her movements sluggish and her body growing cold as the liquid that sustained it oozed out onto the marble.

"I can tell you that the Netherworld is an unpleasant place for many, it was created from the collective essence of every being who ever lived. Raw emotion takes shape there, thoughts become reality, and the impossible becomes gruesomely possible. Our galaxy has always been violent, Ronan Vizsla, endless war with only scarce reprieves. You can imagine what such conflict breeds in the Netherworld of the Force, there is even an entire area populated by the souls of warlords, despots, and conquerors doomed to battle with each other until their essence dissipates into the Cosmic Force."

He knew the Field of Blades well, he had languished there for some time after dying during the Akala Crisis. It was a place he'd never wish to revisit willingly. "She would have undoubtedly seen something there, the memories burned into her consciousness. Something like that is not easy to forget."

[member="Ronan Vizsla"]​

 

[Ronan Vizsla]

[member="Darth Carnifex"]

"She is my daughter." That was how easily it went. "Whatever she sees there, she will be strong."

Just as strong as she had been, while she was slowly bleeding out while her father fought. Foolish. Oh, Ronan was proud, but it had been the wrong choice. Was that his fault? Had he not been soft enough with her? He wasn't blind, of himself or of others. He knew who he was and what. Maybe that- not now. The Mandalorian leveled the blade, its edge glimmering dark against the backdrop of the fire. He studied that keen blade, wondered just how many had passed through it to the next life.

"We have an accord."

There was no hesitation as Vizsla let the edge slip against the palm of his hand, it bit easy and the blood started flowing soon after that. A fist was made and then the knife was offered back, hilt first to the Dark Lord of the SIth.

Anyone else might have been worried about this.

Was it wise to seal a deal with one as black as Zambrano? For Ronan... if it meant saving his daughter? Most certainly. Ronan knew who he was dealing with here. The Black Iron Tyrant was a monster, one who had caused misery across the entire Galaxy. Whose fire burned bright and who listened to the chorus of wails like a song. But it didn't worry him. After all, Ronan wasn't exactly an angel himself, was he?

 

[Darth Carnifex]

The powerful callous hands of the Dark Lord accepted the bloodied dagger, the weapon disappearing into the darkness of his sleeve from whence it was summoned. Light and vibrancy seemed to return to the tent, the gloom that had dominated their meeting dissipating with the dagger's departure.

"Excellent, Ronan Vizsla, I am pleased we could come to an agreement."

He tilted his head again in respect, his villainous smile never wavering in its breadth across his face. Now that the bargain had been struck he could look forward to the preparations, there was much he needed to collect on his own while Ronan procured him the two reagents he had demanded of him.

Soil from a freshly dug grave.

And a person, man or woman, of around equal age to the deceased [member="Tamara Wren"].

"If you would excuse me, I must survey the land for the greatest localization of natural energy to conduct the ritual. I will contact you when everything is ready, just be sure you have what I asked of you when that time comes; including the body of Tamara Wren."

The Dark Lord turned to leave, passing beyond the flap of the tent and into the darkness of the camp. Eventually he too would fade into the darkness, disappearing from view as the shadows covered his tracks to dissuade any pursuers. It wouldn't take long for him to prowl the land, his senses drawn to the greatest concentration of darkness as he scaled the hills, forded streams, and navigated darkened forests to find a recessed canyon hidden from the air by a thick canopy of leaves and intertwining branches. After driving off any nearby creatures, the Dark Lord began to meticulously clear the forest floor of vegetation and unnecessary elevation until it was smooth and devoid of grass.

Then with a staff of polished black wood he began to trace trenches in the dirt in the shape of ancient symbols all but forgotten to the modern populace, words of power written in a blasphemous dialect that would send the weakest of minds into fits of madness if read truly. Carnifex then disrobed, casting aside his earthly materials as he produced a small covered urn of dried ash and pulverized bone and began to mark himself in a similar manner.

Everything was done slowly, extreme care and caution given to prepare for the ritual ahead. If even one element of his circle had been incorrect, then he risked shredding his soul to the farthest corners of Chaos. He had spent decades learning this profane art, mastering its secrets and probing the dead for their lost knowledge.

He would not succumb to his own arrogance, and thus he humbled himself to ensure that no half-measures were taken.

Then, once everything was proper, he hailed Ronan to meet with him at the given coordinates.

[member="Ronan Vizsla"]​

 

[Ronan Vizsla]

[member="Darth Carnifex"]

Ten minutes after Kaine's call a small group emerged from the treeline to bear witness to the ritual ground.

It was already in flux.

Ronan knew this not because he felt it, but because they had not encountered a single predator on the way here. Almost as if they knew that a larger creature was roaming and that it was hungry. Three were with him, one sobbing lad aged 20, the soil, two Vizsla bannermen that were of utmost loyalty. No one else would be allowed to watch what would transpire here.

Within his arms was the body of his daughter.

She felt lighter.

It reminded him her as a small babe, small and fragile and cooing even though the face looking down on her was grizzled, scarred, not prone to smiling. If Ronan was to believe Zambrano his baby was in the Netherworld, burning for sins that weren't hers.

Why?

He did not know.

But Ronan knew that he wouldn't allow that to happen for any longer. "Zambrano. As promised." The left Vizsla bannerman kicked the prisoner's legs from under him, the boy collapsed to the ground, face first in the mud and dirt. "He's aruetiise. Will that be a problem?" Zambrano would be keenly aware of the Mandalorians' opinion on any that weren't theirs.

Aruetiise.

Soulless.

 

[Darth Carnifex]

The Dark Lord stood at the center of the clearing, his rippling muscles stained by lines of white ash plucked from the wastes of Mandalore. Urns of incense burned at the edges of the circle, four in total; one for each of the cardinal directions.

Smoldering eyes opened at the arrival of Ronan Vizsla and his small entourage, his gaze swapping from Tamara's body to that of the sobbing lad they had chosen for the sacrifice.

"Aruetiise will suffice."

An amusing concept, but there was no doubt that the boy had a soul. Well, what passed for a soul in the eyes of the Force, the collection of consciousness, memories, and personality that made a person distinct and unique. "Untie him, he will not run." The Dark Lord spoke the truth, for as the lad was freed from his bonds he found that his entire body was seized by an invisible force, and no matter how hard he struggled he would find that the Lord of the Sith's grip was unwavering.

The boy rose into the air, flipping upside down before slowly rotating in midair as the Dark Lord moved from the center of the circle to the outer layer. The boy was then lowered into the middle of the circle, albeit slightly off from the exact center.

"Now, place Tamara's body right next to his and give me the soil. Be mindful of the circle, we wouldn't want the ritual disrupted by a misstep."

[member="Ronan Vizsla"]​