Hunt or Be Hunted [ Dread Horde ]

[Malok]

R Y L O T H​

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[ Theme ]​

The time had come to make a change.

It had been months now since the Mandalorian Empire had risen to power. Months since the option of returning home had been taken away with finality. Months since the Resol'nare no longer had a place within Darth Metus' life. And yet, in many regards, it was hard to let his culture go. The repetitions of his lifetime had ingrained in him so deeply to the point where he adhered to several of the Six Tenets without thinking. Despite a concerted effort, the Sith wore armor as often as he possibly could.

He provided for his clan.

He wrote and spoke Mando'a.

He was raising a generation of Apprentices as warriors.

And due to these habits...the lack of cultural "staples" left a void in his life. Most particularly, he missed the thrill of diving through the heavens. It was just something that a starfighter - or any spacefaring vessel - couldn't replicate. The rush of wind shrieking against his helm as he rode down astride a beast was something that the Sith longed for beyond words. And, in time, he caved to the desire. Darth Metus did not, of course, brave the perilous homeworld that loathed "his kind" for existing.

But rather looked to other options. At first, he thought of purchasing a Basilisk War Droid secondhand and modifying it personally. Yet, it did not sit well with him to sit astride those beasts any further. So he looked deeper...and found a Trandoshan cult that was just as crazy as he was. Sky Demons they called them. Beasts of immense size and might, native to his very homeworld. Rare on Tre'shebs - even rarer abroad - these monstrosities were a thing of local fear and legend.

They were worth the fortune he paid.

And now, they had arrived.

This day, the Sith Lord had summoned his Apprentices to gather. In the desolate wilds of Ryloth did the Trandoshan warriors bring their treasures - settling down several crates before the hooded Darth Metus. Within stirred the Sky Demons themselves, joustled by the final stages of their voyage and agitated by their cramped conditions. Yet, they would soon be freed. They would soon taste the skies of Ryloth evermore. But first, his Apprentices had a task to fulfill. A hurdle that he would throw at them to push their abilities even greater.

Turning, Darth Metus faced the dust cloud that approached.

The roar of speeder bike engines filled his ears - they were on their way.

And upon arrival would he introduce them to their new challenge.

[member="Srina Talon"], [member="The Fallen"], [member="Mirvak"], [member="Akabane Jarvik"]

 

[Srina Talon]

Srina wasn’t fond of running aimlessly through the wilds of Ryloth. The chance of getting lost was equally as strong as getting eaten by something twice her size. White-gold hair flew behind her as she navigated through the brush on her speeder as easily as the fin of a shark split the water. She was aware of others traveling with her, but she paid them little mind, letting them eat the throwaway sand in her wake. If they hadn’t worn goggles they shouldn’t have been on a swoop in the first place.

It wasn’t often that she traveled on her own and she found herself being pulled in the direction of her Master. It wasn’t reminiscent of the early days, when she couldn’t breathe without him, but it was still there. His enthusiasm about whatever he had planned for his apprentices was palpable. It made her curious, but more than anything, she found herself missing the Sith Lord. She’d been away from him for far too long this time around. His errands grew more and more complicated.

The little Echani cut the engine to her speeder when Darth Metus came into view with several gigantic boxes nearby. Silvered eyes followed the lines of Trandoshan warriors taking their leave with a certain level of interest. Her bike slid to a stop not far from the dreadlocked man and she balanced with both feet on the ground as she removed her goggles and tossed them in her saddlebag. “Master…”, she greeted breathlessly, a pale smile crossing her features, before she dismounted.

The pale-skin woman seemed tiny beside the Sith Lord and the containers that seemed to be of some importance. She moved gracefully, sure of foot, her light armored form blending into the drab surroundings. Srina wore the armor that her Master had created for her when she felt as if she might need it. Since he had refused details on this venture, she came prepared, with twin vibroblades running the length of her spine. The heat on Ryloth was dry and unforgiving but it didn’t stop her from seeming as if she were floating versus walking. “What are these for?”, she questioned softly, a little bit of curiousness breaking through, as it usually did.

Soft fingers found his armored forearm for a moment, the significance something he would realize, though others would not. The Echani followed her training as she always had. Pristine, unbroken, unbent and unmoved. Nothing rocked her, nothing bothered her, and she certainly didn’t feel anything for the Sith Lord in front of her. Except, that she did. Part of her knew that she always would. He had once called himself her refuge, her home. It was the truth.

Srina blinked when she heard something that could have been a growl come from one of the containers. There were definitely air holes. “Is…Is there something alive in there?”

Her interest triggered Force Sight that she was prone to suffering and she caught glimpses of teeth and claws but not an entire picture. She could see scales but when she blinked next, the images were gone, and her vision cut out. Gray eyes tinged with an eerie sense of perception fell to Darth Metus as she let him go. What exactly had he done? Her gaze was inquisitive. What was her Master planning?

[member="Darth Metus"] | [member="The Fallen"] | [member="Mirvak"] | [member="Akabane Jarvik"]

 

[The Fallen]

Ryloth
851 ABY

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Its new Master's call had come.

Being brought aboard a vessel to the planet of Ryloth, the Fallen was soon open to a whole new world to explore. The Ship that had been its prison was nothing compared to the large open space that it now found itself in, alive with color and the freedom of the sky. Having been unable to do so for as long as it could remember, the Fallen allowed its wings to expand out wide, appreciating the new freedom that the space it had been escorted to gave. It was a gift, truly, despite barely understanding the concept of freedom itself; it was a servant, after all, a plaything that had been recovered from the depths of the Unknown Regions deep within a vessel that remains as the tomb of its master of old. It had outlived its creator and, after found by the expedition team, was bound to a new one; Darth Metus. This was their first meeting, one that would lead on to another lifetime of servitude.

The shuttle had landed some ways away from the actual meeting point for one reason or another. Feeling the connection with its new master, the Fallen took to flight, its wing a little incapable at first thanks to the claustrophobic conditions of the Corvette it had resided upon for hundreds of years but after a few strong gusts of wind and flaps of the organic wings that carried the being into the air, it quickly found itself soaring through the sky among the clouds, its eyes watching the ground below with the vision that had clearly been adjusted and shaped to see clearly even from such an altitude. The Fallen felt... Liberated, in a way; something within its subconscious felt different, more alive as it sat high above everything and everyone else. Sensations like this felt like a drug and whilst its undying loyalty would never falter to its master and would never be able to communicate such emotions, the Fallen enjoyed the few minutes of bliss that it could, being one with the clouds.

That time, however, soon came to an end as it felt the beck and call of its Master. Swooping down from the skies above to land next to Metus himself, the Fallen immediately brought itself to a bow, holding it until being told to rise.

[member="Darth Metus"]

 

[Akabane Jarvik]

Akabane had some terrible things happen in his past, including losing friends and family. That was no big deal, for a man who entered a world of fighting, those things are expected. He could put on a grin and carry on as usual but this time, this loss, it had possibly broken him. The drive he once had nearly vanished and smiling made him feel sick. Anyone aware of Akabane's behavior on a normal day would notice his changes immediately. His appearance was different as well, the stubble turned into thick, long hairs which was very uncharacteristic of him. Clothes were on him of course, though one could tell he threw them on with little care for how he looked. Akabane, in his current state, was certainly not handsome.

If sorrow hadn't overwhelmed Akabane, he would be terribly angry. Unfortunately, he vowed to serve a certain sith lord and there was work to be done. The Kro Varian warrior didn't have the luxury of staying in this state. Metus already gave his apprentices another task to complete.

He hopped on a speeder bike and followed the others, pausing for a moment before going. Akabane was curious what they were doing on Ryloth. Master never failed to amaze him so he would have to wait and see. The thought never left his mind though, maybe it was better that he focus on the mission instead of misfortune. In the distance, he could see a cloaked figure standing by several massive crates. That person being Metus and beside him, Miss Talon. The creature from that supposedly cursed ship was there too, landing just as he arrived. Akabane wasn't late for once, since the wolfman hadn't made his appearance yet. He would shut off the speeder and join the others.

A simple nod was used to greet his master, then he stood in silence until spoken to.

[member="Darth Metus"] | [member="Srina Talon"] | [member="Mirvak"] | [member="The Fallen"]

 

[Malok]

Somehow, he knew that she would be the First.

As the dust cloud drew ever closer, the Sith Lord could make out a stark contrast: white against a background of dirt. [member="Srina Talon"] thundered ahead of her fellow apprentices, solidifying in Darth Metus' mind that she was easily the quickest rider of them all. On Leritor, she had bested him in a race...albeit with a headstart...and now she led the way forward. As the old saying went, distance makes the heart grow stronger - and admittedly, recent history had caused distance between the Dar'manda and the Echani.

But, for the time being at least, she had returned. When she dismounted and made her way to his side, her touch brought back a memory to the forefront of his mind. It reminded him of how their tale had begun - a stormy day on Coruscant that had pushed their lives together. He had made a promise to her that day: to protect and teach so long as she was loyal. To her, he was a refuge. To him, she was a reminder. "Welcome back." he said, beaming. To my side.

Ever inquisitive, their reunion was quickly characterized by questions. "These are a gift...and a challenge." The answer was intentionally vague, as he would not spoil the surprise just yet. His lips parted as if to stoke the flames of her curiosity all the more, but the flutter of wings drew his attention. Eyes of sulfur reached towards the heavens, witnessing the mighty descent of Darkness itself. It called to the Sith in a way vastly different than the bond he shared with Srina.

Where he and the Echani felt warmth and a pull...both Darth Metus and [member="The Fallen"] would feel a prickling awareness. An icy nudge in the back of their psyche, acknowledging one to another that they were close. A Bond had been forged over distance, not by the providence of the Force but by the hands of the Sith. Now, this masterpiece cascaded from above in order to serve its new master. Yet, there would be no chains. No bonds. "Arise..." Although steady, there was no tyranny in his tone.

Simply because he could feel its exhiliration. The experience of flying free after so long yet lingered upon the Fallen's presence. It whispered a symphony through the Force - sweet music to the Sith's ears.

"...Xeaniri. Sky Dancer."

He named the Fallen thus.

A gift of identity and purpose. A promise of fulfillment at his Master's side.

Yet he did not have the opportunity to say much else, as the third apprentice made his arrival. Unlike the avian masterpiece which fluttered down from above, this one came in the same way as the first - by speederbike. And while he was the latest to arrive, he was yet the first to call serve as the reborn Sith's apprentice. Over the many months that they had spent together, Darth Metus had cultivated a solid relationship with the young man. He had become accustomed to his jovial ways and the aloofness which hailed from his Shaper heritage.

He grappled with Akabane's election to choose Wind over sheer Might. But, despite the challenge, the demeanor of the young man was always encouraging. He was not perfect. He was not the Chosen One. But what the young man did have was significantly more heart than most. And that is why his arrival gave Darth Metus pause. There was a jarring contrast in his...everything...compared to the norm. There was no joy in his arrival - no warmth, no smiles, no jokes. There was no bravado.

And his appearance was the furthest thing from pristine. He looked as though he had endured a gauntlet without rest or time to refresh. Something had clearly transpired, and Darth Metus brushed his psyche against the young man's mind. He briefly conveyed a feeling of concern and of confusion. Akabane would know, from this, that his Master would approach his heartache later. But for now...the challenge awaited.

"I see Mirvak is a touch late..." he began, motioning for them all to step closer to the crates. "Though I doubt he will be much longer. So, I will reveal to you what the day's challenge is."

A rudimentary flick of his wrist sent telekinetics spiraling. The lock affixed to the largest of the cracks came flying off, prompting a release. The frontmost wall of the crate came crashing down upon the desolate earth, scattering dust clouds all about. And...from within those depths did a monstrosity step. A full grown Sky Demon cautiously made its way out into the light of the afternoon, unfolding its mammoth wings as if to stretch away the feeling of being cramped.

Chains yet held the creature bound.

A muzzle kept ravenous teeth at bay.

Silence...

SKRRREEEEEE!!!​

A terrifying screech tore from behind the muzzle, bolstered by the Force itself. With ease would it cause those adjacent to feel extreme discomfort due to sheer volume alone. Yet, even as the Sky Demon roared in frustration, the Sith grinned wildly. "Within these crates are a gift from my Homeworld, Mandalore. In my tongue, they are called Catra'diamtr. In yours, Sky Demons." The beast struggled against its chains.

"Within these crates, you will find Sky Demons of various ages. Some young, some old. You will tame them, using your mind and will alone."

SKRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEE!!!!​

[member="Mirvak"] | [member="Srina Talon"] | [member="Akabane Jarvik"] | [member="The Fallen"]​

 

[Er'in Tenel]

Instructing the pampered daughter of Hapes to make her own way across the surface of Ryloth is, in and of itself, a test that is perhaps best left to another time to describe.

It is either a dark miracle of the force, or a testament to her tenacity and intelligence that Er'in arrives at all at the site she was instructed to travel to, her speeder somewhat battered and worse for the wear. It's undoubtedly pure chance that she isn't the last to arrive, no skill came into it at all, because her skills for navigating the wilds of Ryloth have increased by orders of magnitude since her arrival on the deadly and frankly benighted planet.

But she came, because she owed her master - and wasn't that a strange way to consider a man - more than she could ever repay. She still wasn't entirely sure if that repayment would be in bloody vengeance or in charity, so ambiguous were her feelings on the matter. But she was free to have those feelings, and that in and of itself was something that occasionally made her smile actually touch her eyes.

She arrived late, just in time to hear the end of the conversation, alighting from her speeder bike with a look of slightly shocked awe and perhaps a trace of genuine fear that she wiped from her face as soon as she noticed it was present. Er'in was not dressed for taming winged lizards the size of landspeeders - a stylish yet deeply impractical dark blue jumpsuit hugged her form like a second skin - except where encounters with Ryloth's wildlife or scenery had already created a couple of rips. Inwardly she cursed herself, what had she _actually_ expected out here? She had at least thought to bring a blaster, no one - let alone her master - being foolish enough to trust her with a lightsaber at this stage in her training.

She stared at the beasts for a long, tense moment as the ear-splitting noise roared out, then let her feet carry herself forward to the group on automatic, her faces scanning the appearances of her new apprentices.

These are not Hapans, you fool. This is a different world. The old rules do not apply.

She just managed to keep the automatic assessment of a rival female off her face as she looked over [member="Srina Talon"] and replaced with a genuine nod of greeting, although admittedly one that still carried strong traces of the aristocratic mannerisms of the Consortium.

[member="The Fallen"] - Sky Dancer - presented more of an issue, as Dark Side constructs... are not in Hapan etiquette manuals, but staring was impolite and the same courteous nod would have to suffice.

[member="Akabane Jarvik"] was the easiest to greet, a smile that didn't quite reach those liquid brown eyes and the same polite, courteous nod to someone of ambiguous status.

She seemed unsure has to how to greet [member="Darth Metus"] for a long moment, then offered a formal bow of submissive courtesy and - following on the end of the pronouncement.

"Our mind and will alone, my lord?"

For all her roiling emotions, years of long training ensured nothing but curious politeness carried into her tone. Well... almost nothing, except that edge of fear.

[member="Mirvak"] | [member="Srina Talon"] | [member="Akabane Jarvik"] | [member="The Fallen"] | [member="Darth Metus"]

 

[Srina Talon]

White-gold hair gleamed like spun silver under the bright Ryloth sun and the Echani felt a sense of warmth that had nothing to do with the heat. Her Master always left her with a sense of comfort and safety. Even if there was nothing to be afraid of. “It’s good to be back.”, she responded, her smile lingering at the kiss of her mouth, though it faded quickly when she heard something animalistic coming from the cargo containers.

Srina wasn’t sure how to respond to the ‘gift’ that seemed both hungry and hostile. A finely arched eyebrow raised, but she didn’t question Metus, and merely took the moment of peace to re-acclimate herself to the Sith Lord. It was easy as breathing. His natural gravity kept her close, like a satellite, and she had long ago learned not to fight it. When he moved, she moved. “You know…I think I liked you better when you gifted me guns and armor.”

The little silver ring on her finger was more than just a paltry trinket. No matter what weapon she acquired it would always be her favorite. She was never, ever, seen without it. Not even when she slept. The sound of wings flapping, rather loudly, caught her attention and that of her Master. The endlessly graceful woman took a step back when a half man, half bird, dropped out of the sky like a fallen angel. Srina watched the creature with several levels of unbridled curiosity. Firstly, because he was unlike anything she had ever seen. Second, because of the way he bowed. Was that how she ought to greet Darth Metus?

It took her a moment to realize that this was another apprentice. She knew that her Master had many. Almost, as many as he had children, but it had never occurred to her to look to skies for one. It had also never occurred to her that he would be unnamed. The significance of it was not lost on her but it felt improper to comment so she merely remained silent, storm-cloud eyes sweeping the horizon instead.

Next came the apprentice that she knew best. Only, it was not the generally playful, however dense, Akabane Jarvik that she knew. Gone was his smile and the light from his eyes. The man that had danced on a balcony while intoxicated at a Silver Jedi banquet was entirely missing. His sadness was palpable to the Echani, and against her will, her heart felt a steady ache. “Akabane…”

She murmured his name but her mouth snapped shut before she could ask what was wrong. If what plagued him was so painful the wintry woman didn’t want to ask him about it with an audience. It would wait until they finished their Master's exercise.

Last, but not least, arrived a woman she had not met before. Echani eyes inspected the Hapan woman just as she had the newly crowned Xeaniri. They analyzed, evaluated, and picked apart anything they saw until there was no stone unturned. She was tall and fair, that was an obvious fact, but incredibly ill-equipped to be parading around in the Ryloth wilderness. It seemed to have been a difficult journey for her if the small rips and tears in her jumpsuit were anything to go by.

The dark-haired female nodded in her direction, a sentiment that the Echani returned elegantly, pristine, and without flaw. There was something in her gaze that set Srina on edge, but she couldn’t really put her finger on it, not yet, anyway. Once again, she watched as an apprentice bowed to her Master, and her mind brushed against that of Darth Metus. ‘Am I in the wrong? I have never bowed before you…Have I been disrespectful?’

Her telepathic question would need to wait for an answer because Darth Metus revealed his monstrous surprise with a flick of his wrist. Expressionless mirrored eyes landed on the winged-creatures that she had partially observed in a brief vision. It hadn’t done them justice. The sound of the Catra’diamtr’s screech made the Echani tilt her head toward her shoulder as if something bothered her ears, but otherwise, she stood firm.

She had been swallowed by the primordial darkness that embodied a Sith with untold mentalist capabilities. These creatures with claws that could tear her to ribbons, and teeth that could easily rip her apart, could never wound her, could never injure her as deeply as that.

Sky Demons.

“I take it back…”, Srina murmured softly, velvet tones little more than a bell on the breeze. “I like you much more now.”

The white-haired Echani stepped from her Master, curious, as always, but still kept a safe distance. The largest of the Catra’diamtr watched her with shining, angry eyes, and screeched again as if to warn her away. Gray eyes grew distant as she surveyed the crates and her pupils dilated to nearly three times their normal size. Her unwilling Force Sight gave some much-needed guidance, for once seeming to help of its own accord, and she gracefully crossed the dust and dead patches of wiry grass to stand at the far end of the line. A delicate wave of her hand removed the front panel of the crate directly in front of her. It was much smaller than the first, but she had learned long ago not to question the will of the Force.

Srina had seen the Sky Demon that belonged to her in her mind’s eye. The vision, with hazy edges, didn’t do it much justice. It was not the same as seeing it stalk out into the open, chained, and muzzled.

The Catra’diamtr began to screen, flapping petulant wings, it’s want to fly, a longing for freedom so strong that she could feel it beneath her skin. The beast wasn’t so young that it seemed freshly hatched, but not so old, that it could be referred to as an adult. It had black scales, the color of onyx, and plumes of equally dark hair running near its shoulder blades. The soft underbelly seemed gray. It stood out to her most of all from the way its scales gleamed in the sunlight, almost giving it a shade of red. All in all, it reminded her of a much smaller version of the first creature she had seen. Perhaps they were related?

“This one is mine.” ,Srina announced securely, reaching up to brush lengths of silken hair behind her ear. The pale-skinned woman didn’t approach the Sky Demon yet. Instead, she waited. It looked harassed and overall seemed like it wanted nothing more than to bite her hand off. It screeched, high pitched, and she felt her vision blur a little before it cleared. “Yes.”

“This one is mine.”

[member="Er'in Tenel"] | [member="Darth Metus"] | [member="Akabane Jarvik"] | [member="The Fallen"] | [member="Mirvak"]

 

[The Fallen]

Ryloth
851 ABY

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As the Fallen rose sharply at its master's request, the bond prickled with an cutting ice as cold as Hoth itself. The two had certainly never met, a bond forged over long distance had no guarantees of the sensations felt when it came into direct proximity to each other. Despite this, as the Fallen listened solely to the words that left Darth Metus' mouth, things started to become strange, different. As with before aboard the ship of the Dark Master, everything said to it was an order, a command; one that had to be followed immediately, without question or without deviation lest it would be punished for its disobedience. Whilst Metus tone spoke with authority and steadily yet it was not of a domineering sort. It was this very tone that confused the Fallen, for all it had known was that of slavery and servitude to the most crushing of individuality. It was no surprise then that the Fallen tilted its head ever so slightly to continue to listen what the Darth had to say, only to find itself completely frozen in the circumstance.

Xeaniri, Sky Dancer. A name.

It was almost as if it was teaching itself its new name though its body language was extremely timid, having brought itself down to a lowered position of submission, as if trying to say it wasn't worthy of being given something as far as a name, being given the key of an identity, a starting point to begin to create its own being. The conjoining process that happened in the service of the Dark Master was not one of joyous memories, more so one of terror and pain built up to its highest points. It never asked for it nor did it feel like it deserved to be placed into the service of the Dark Master in such a way. The more it wondered and thoughts began to rush through its head, the more things seemed to swirl round and round. It wasn't long before the world became a whirlpool, a descent of anxiety and the shackles that combated to keep the being in some form of control. Though underlying through all the pain and the strife, there was no doubt happiness there, a freedom given to it that it had most certainly forgotten.

Yet it knew this would take time. It was no doubt a start nonetheless.

The Fallen's attention was soon turned to the large crates as its Master pointed them out and let them open, allowing the Sky Demons to be revealed to the group. As instructions were given to tame these beasts with mind and will alone, the Fallen couldn't help but look to Metus and tilt its head once more. It would obey without question, such was the indoctrination of the Dark Master that made it so the sensation of being given an order or command would override everything else. Taking a step forward, the Fallen moved to remove the front of the crate from the box itself. Whilst the Fallen was no doubt Force Sensitive, the Dark Master had been paranoid about his creations using the Force, thus drilled it into the Fallen the most to never use them. A shame, because as soon as the Fallen had undone the front of the crate, it found itself having to quickly dart backwards to avoid getting crushed or eaten by the Sky Demon that rushed to break itself free, though the chains held it firmly in place. It screeched at the Fallen, wanting to be let free and given a meal, no doubt the journey had been long and difficult.

It was young, there was no mistake about it. Though watching the Draconic chained up as it was, the Fallen could relate. Both had wings and no doubt felt more alive when in the skies rather than being grounded and kept locked to solid earth or, in the Fallen's case at least, kept in a metal tomb. Slowly but surely, the Fallen approached, seeming to be very careful with its movements.

It had a plan, something that would bond the two through circumstance and relations. It was what it's Master wanted so it obeyed without question. Perhaps it didn't realize yet that the beast would be it's to keep.

[member="Srina Talon"] | [member="Er'in Tenel"] | [member="Darth Metus"] | [member="Akabane Jarvik[FONT=tahoma]"][/FONT]

 

[Akabane Jarvik]

After his arrival another apprentice made her appearance, though he didn't recognize the young lady. She greeted him with a smile and a nod. Akabane couldn't smile even if he forced one, so he returned a nod lacking any emotion. Treating a lady this way... shame on you.

Akabane moved closer to the crate I'm front of him as Metus motioned. One wouldn't hear the creature inside, making him very curious of the crate's contents. Master opened up one crate, allowing one of the restless beasts to escape. His vision was blocked by a dust cloud as it left the crate. Every step shaking the ground, warning him of its great size. Then, the creature let out its horrific cry. He quickly covered his ears but that wasn't enough. Master called it a Sky Demon. Akabane thought the name befitting. They defiantly fit the description of a demon. He looked at his master when the instructions were given. Tame a demon? taming a Sky Demon hardly sounded like a challenge.

He started as the others had, letting the front of the crate fall open and allow his Sky Demon to come out. This one didn't budge for awhile before finally leaving the cramped space. Akabane noticed it kept its composure throughout all of this. That was interesting to him, since he expected it to be aggressive. Seeing its behavior made him wonder if it's older. The beast sat in one spot after coming out, not making any sounds. He stared at it for the longest time. Looking at it wouldn't make any progress, so he took a few steps forward and sat on the ground.

Originally, Akabane wasn't scared of the Sky Demons. That changed when their eyes made contact. Never before had he been more fearful in his life. Some distance was in between them, enough for him to dodge an incoming attack. Though an attack wasn't why he feared the beast. Maybe that added to his fear but not the main reason. What was it then?

[member="Darth Metus"] | [member="Srina Talon"] | [member="Mirvak"] | [member="The Fallen"] | @Er'in Tenel

 

[Mirvak]

The wolfman was quite late. But, being an uncivilized beast raised from slavery, being timely wasn't one of his strong suits. Truth be told, Mirvak had more than enough time to arrive before the unveiling of the gifts. But he had gotten himself lost, on purpose. He was chasing his life long prey, freedom. Or atleast the illusion of it. As soon as he had mounted his speeder bike, he gave into his need to explore. The galaxy for him was no longer confined to just the cells of the slave holds or the blood sport arenas that entertained the degenerate masses. This untameable wasteland was just another drop of water in the sea of the galaxy. Yet he wished to see of it as much of it as he could.

Hours passed, and as he found himself perched on the cliff of a butte with a freshly killed animal native to Ryloth, he was for once enveloped in a deep inner quiet. He had forgotten that he had a new master in an unending chain of servitude that seemed would span his entire life. The harsh winds rustled his rough fur as he watched over the dry landscape below him. An errant smile had not passed across the beast's visage since long before his time in the fighting pits, but if he could bear to entertain the illusion of happiness, he would find it here. Alone, free, and silent. Only the wind whispered loudly in his ears. He dipped his head down and sunk his teeth into a large chunk of flesh, shaking his head from side to side viciously as he remembered his obligations to his master. Slowly, he came back to reality. He suspended these feelings, and pushed them aside.

Weakness.

The awareness of his position as an acolyte, servant by another name, became known again. The inner quiet was replaced by a silent anger. He consumed his fill of the once noble grazing animal, then stood and turned away from the cliff as if the inner peace he felt had never occurred. He walked to his speeder, blood still dripping from his maw and claws, and mounted it, making his way to the master.

. . .​

​

The Worgian sped up next to the arrangement of speeder bikes, and unceremoniously dismounted. He suppressed a growl as the group looked to him. His demeanor, blood stained claws and maw, and lumbering stride gave way to the impression of a savage beast, despite Metus' gifts of armor. His eyes darted to each one quickly, giving them a once over, assessing them in the most simple, predatory way as he made his way to Metus. The creature from the ship, the abomination, was here. So was the joker Akabane, talked too much for Mirvak's liking, but thankfully he was preoccupied. Then to the silver haired Srina, he snorted and chuffed shortly, a delicate plaything for Metus no doubt. Lastly was the noblewoman Er'in, another female unknown to him. He locked eyes with Metus as he approached him, bowing in such a reluctant manner that it looked like it might actually kill him. He quirked his head to the side slightly, his eyes squarely on Metus as he rumbled lowly,"Master."

The beast stood up to his regular height, then regarded the sky demons with some curiosity. He spotted one lashing out, defiantly against its chains, eager to snap at anything that came close to it. Without needing explanation from his master, he approached it. Taking calculated steps, he approached it confidently. This demon in particular was very battle scarred, its dark brown scales retaining the marks of several battles from the past. Its right eye was a milky white, the other a piercing grey. It focused on Mirvak, rearing up and flapping its wings, and slamming its weight down in front of him. Mirvak stared right into the one good eye of the beast, as it stared back in pure hatred. felt something he had never felt before. Empathy. This beast was like him in a way, the only difference being it had known freedom until it had been captured by these Trandoshan hunters.

But Mirvak did not pity it. For once, he saw an opportunity to make himself the master.

@Er'in Tenel | [member="Akabane Jarvik"] | [member="The Fallen"] | [member="Darth Metus"] | [member="Srina Talon"]

 

[Er'in Tenel]

As the other apprentices... or was acolytes the right word? As the other acolytes chose their supposed mounts with varying degrees of confidence, Er'in watched.

Er'in didn't particularly like either term, from what little she understood so far, the purpose of using the passion of the force was to free oneself. But the warnings in history were plain enough - for every follower of a dark code who freed themselves, you had another who wrought terror and destruction upon the galaxy.

It was odd, she reflected, that she stood with a group now reviled and a group that was commonly associated with the Galactic Empire, Sith Empire or any of the other numerous descendants. That wasn't what they were - she wasn't sure what they were, but such total control was literally alien to the words and ethos she understood.

But it seemed the legends about near lethal training had been true - and she couldn't fault that, from what she knew the Jedi were not exactly shining beacons of light in saving their novices... whatever the term was... from accidental injury and death.

Er'in also reflected that she might be prone to over thinking simple matters and had now stood silent while the others had all found 'mounts'. That might well be due to the fact she was very much scared - quite how the others showed so little fear, she didn't know. What she knew about training animals couldn't be counted, what she knew about training terrifying predators with only her mind and the Force... well, she could sense the animals dimly, their roiling, angry emotions at having been kept pent up for so long. The desire to beat their wings, to be free.

That, at least, she could empathise with wholeheartedly.

She stood, unsure for a long moment, then slowly walked over to one of the adult females that the others had passed over - sensibly, anyone else could have told her, for the fully grown female might have been a magnificent specimen of an endangered species, with coal-black scales marked with the barest hint of the characteristic red. But she was also one of the eldest present, the wisest and at presence - given the species tendencies - making a magnificent display of dominance to the others to force them into submission or drive them off, only the chains that held her prevented all out struggle.

Er'in looked at the creature, a reptilian eye looked back. Weak force sense probed weak force sense. What Er'in saw was rage, hunger and pride that made her heart skip a beat, a fear she struggled to master. What the coal-scaled female saw was a large food source - a ball of fear and power worthy of a long feast.

Er'in didn't move as the beast lunged at her, but more out of fear than confidence - but the chains held and the female came up short, snapping her maw in confused, annoyed frustration.

 

[Malok]

Am I in the wrong?

As [member="Er'in Tenel"] regarded the Sith Lord with a cordial greeting, the presence of [member="Srina Talon"] brushed against his psyche. Although her voice did not reach his ears, the unspoken message was tinged with...concern. The emotion caused Darth Metus' eyebrow to raise ever so slightly. Wordlessly, he gave the alabaster woman a response, coloring his "words" with feelings of calm and reassurance. If I'm being perfectly honest, being bowed to is still new to me. You're fine. And that was the pure and honest truth.

The Sith had began as meek as any other man trying to make it in the Galaxy. A mercenary who clawed his way upward. Yet, when he looked in the mirror, Darth Metus seldom saw the Vicelord of the Confederacy. He seldom saw a warrior who had built the first, Mandalorian Empire. No, he saw, more than anything, the same mercenary who lived payout to payout. He saw Isley Verd - and thereby kept himself humble in his dealings. With that said, Darth Metus did mind his manners at all times. And as such, when the Hapan regarded him with politeness, he responded with a pristine nod of his own.

Our mind and will alone, my lord?

Shortly thereafter, once the Sky Demons had been revealed to the Acolytes, the Hapan was the first to speak. Her accented voice was the epitome of tact, per the usual. But Darth Metus could feel his charges. He could feel the edge of fear which clung to Er'in's presence. He could feel the winter which hugged Akabane's soul. He could feel the depths of Srina's curiosity; and the cacophany of emotions within Xeaniri; and the ferocity within the tardy Mirvak. Turning, he regarded the Hapan with a solemn nod and elaborated upon his expectations.

"You are all gifted, each in their own way. I expect for you to use these gifts to bring one of these creatures to heel. Make it your own. Partner with it. Master it. Take flight upon its wings."

Show me what you can do.

The underlying message was there - and with that did the Sith leave his apprentices to tackle the challenge. Of course, he was the furthest thing from a leader who expected his charges to do what he wouldn't. And as such, he faced the first Sky Demon that had been released before the Acolytes. What he felt from this beast was...familiar. The anger burning within its chest was at surface level - caused by being cooped up and deprived of the norm. But. What lay underneath...the deep fury that slowly burned at all times...it matched the very same that existed within Darth Metus. The fury of loss.

The Sith stepped closer, braving the chained beast's wrath. It flailed and gnashed against him, trying - to no avail - to assault the being that dared to infringe upon its space. Yet, Darth Metus simply raised a hand. His presence fell mightily upon the creature; but it was not to forcibly bend the Sky Demon to his will. No. That would not do. Instead, the Sith drew out that quiet anger that bubbled within the beast and allowed it to dance before his mind's eye. He saw fire. He saw ash. He saw a world bathed in devastation. They had both been robbed of so much.

"I understand." he breathed, bathing the creature in his empathy. Darth Metus was then keenly aware of the imperfection upon the beast's underbelly...a horrific scorch mark that could only have come from that day. "I burned too."

He showed the creature but a glimpse of his own demise.

That was enough to give the Sky Demon pause.

"You know as well as I...Everything is gone. So now, we have no choice. We have to move forward." With but a wave of his hand, the chains were broken. The muzzle fell to the earth. "You can taste freedom here. Spread your wings and soar again, here. You can know that the Fire won't come back for you here, of that I can promise." He raised his hand once more. "You can begin again here, just as I have."

The Sky Demon blinked.

The Sky Demon tilted its head.

The Sky Demon bellowed.

The sheer might of its cry sent the Sith skidding back a few paces. But he did not retract his hand from the air. He did not retract his presence from the beast. He would make the creature understand what chance laid before - a chance at freedom. A chance at starting over. A chance at spreading its wings once more.

[member="Mirvak"], [member="Srina Talon"], [member="Akabane Jarvik"], [member="The Fallen"], [member="Er'in Tenel"]

 

[Er'in Tenel]

Er'in watched Darth Metus, felt the ripple of his actions through the force. It was odd, how pleasantly terrifying a sensation it was to let such a use of power wash over her. Something like standing on the edge of an immense drop.

Or walking a tightrope. Which, she supposed, was what any user of the Dark Side who wasn't a member of the Sith Empire or any of the Imperial remnants who slaughtered in the name of Order ended up doing.

She looked up at the dragon in front of her and she knew that this was going to hurt, a lot. The others might have the experience, cunning or strength of will to simply tame such a beast. She knew she did not. She didn't intend to let that stop her, mind you. Since she'd escaped the gilded halls of Hapes she wasn't much in the mood for letting anything stop her. She was just going to have to take a somewhat different approach.

Her first attempt... might be described as sub optimal, if you were being generous. Focusing her mind she strode forward apparently unafraid - or at least undaunted by the fear - into the reach of those deadly talons, projecting the most regal of bearings she might in an attempt to convince the creature to submit. Which... in quite a lot of cases might work, but was very much the wrong thing to do here. Her Sky Demon let out a shattering howl and pinned her easily to the ground with one single swipe of it's claw, forcing a scream from her as several of the talons ripped into skin.

Then it stopped, sniffing and bobbing it's head curiously. It was certain the food it had just sensed was bigger than what it had caught, but it's eyes didn't lie, had it made a mistake. The immense reptilian head lowered until it was inches from Er'in's prostrate form.

Er'in second - and likely final, before someone would have to involve themselves to save her from becoming a very small snack - attempt was much, much more inspired. She caught the look in the creatures eye, the way it tilted it's head, the sensation of its mind against hers, the prideful curiosity. What was this tiny meal to challenge it? Why did it present itself as so much more. Er'in lay still, projecting not dominance, but instead a sensation of strength and elegance of a grace and power that matched flight and of a prideful arrogant that she too bowed her head for no one. Blood trickled from her nose with the effort of focus, but after a long, long moment the Sky Demon sniffed and released Er'in.

Not bent to her will, not yet. But it was watching her now as if it were watching an equal, yet still unable to understand how something so clearly small, puny and flightless could be an equal to it's avian majesty.

Er'in slowly got to her feet, holding her ground with a determined expression on her face, shifting one arm just far enough to use the emergency bacta injector she was carrying. Her rate of blood loss from her latest stylish attempt to dress like a tribal wild-woman was high enough to be worrying. She needed not to make this a habit.

 

[Srina Talon]

The graceful Echani seemed to settle when Darth Metus telepathically assured her that she hadn’t made some sort of massive breach in protocol. It had simply never occurred to her to bow, not when he had never required subservience, not in any way. She moved away from her Master’s side, drawn by curiosity, and her visions. The other apprentices all had their own opinions on the exercise but Srina’s mind remained crystal clear when she approached the secured crate. Once the Catra’diamtr was released to the bright Ryloth sun Srina felt as if her breath had been stolen. Bright eyes, black scales, impressive and elegant talons…It was a perfect combination of beauty and death.

“Goheno nin [Forgive me]…”, she spoke softly, sweetly, her words a delicate plea on the arid wind. The language she spoke was that of her people. The tone she used was that which her mother had always deferred to before tucking in her younger siblings in for the night. It was fond, protective, and loving. The white-haired apprentice apologized for the crate that contained it, for the chains that bound it, and for the loyalty she was soon to demand. “Tullen tye-rehtien [I’m here to help you]…”

Srina could feel a subtle burn begin at the back of her left shoulder blade. It was the place that the Mandragora had left its mark, where the pact of the Jart had taken hold, and blessed her with power. Up until recently, she had barely noticed the tattoo, save to try and follow the lines in the mirror. Oddly enough it didn’t always seem to remain constant. The darkly outlined crescent moon was the centerpiece, and seemed steadfast, but the lattice-work often changed of its own accord. ‘I will not harm you.’

The connection with her beast was momentarily interrupted when a well of warmth, of fire, washed over her from the direction her Master stood in. It made Ryloth seem like an oasis in comparison. Briefly, she could see the lava, smell the smoke, and feel her flesh blister. Silver eyes flashed toward Darth Metus as the vision of Mandalore burning swept through her anew. She debated on the merits of picking up the nearest rock to throw at the Sith Lord, but in light of present company, she chose a more diplomatic approach. “Master…”

He knew where the path of his death took her. The rest of the apprentices wouldn’t have to worry about their winged familiars if the Force swept her away. “Please.”

Darth Metus would understand her plea, even if, no one else did.

Srina eventually returned her focus to her Catra’diamtr, ignoring the sounds that rolled through the air like seismic grenades, seeking to restore the line of communication. Without visions of suffering and darkness pulling at her mind, the majestic creature steadied once more, enough so that she could get closer. Silver eyes crashed with pale reptilian gold. The large beast began to rest down on its haunches and the burn in her shoulder grew stronger. A soft hand reached for the adolescent Sky Demon and something unnamable passed between them. A visible ripple split the air and a soundless crack of power echoed from her core—singing with the scent of old influence.

She knew immediately that there was no need to dominate this creature. Srina stepped closer, fingers delicately caressing the black scales near its powerful jaw, before moving toward the dark, surprisingly soft hair that sat toward the end of a long, graceful neck. Srina murmured soft things, gentle promises, and although it couldn’t really understand the verbiage she knew it understood her intentions. They were connected now. Not the same way that she remained bound to Metus…But similar enough that she had an innate understanding of what to expect and how to adjust to it.

The Sky Demon pressed its muzzle into her small form, breathing deeply, taking in her scent. It made a sound, somewhere between a growl and a whine, and Srina waved away the chains. They weren’t necessary and only served to make her new companion uncomfortable. When it was first set free it screeched, not so loud that it deafened her, but enough so that she was tempted to wiggle her finger in her ear. Large wings flapped once, twice, and it lifted from the ground as if weightless. Srina could feel something new.

It was primitive. Hard to place—But the closest word to describe it was joy. Her Catra’diamtr took flight and the little Echani, who seemed even smaller than usual beside it, watched it soar. There was no fear or doubt in her. At least, not from the creature she had claimed, though she couldn’t say the same for the others. Srina found the transition simple, with the Jart on her side, and a willingness to overlook the creatures fearsome presence.

The Catra’diamtr landed heavily beside her after a long moment of freedom, kicking up a cloud of dust and debris. Large leathery wings came down around her and it growled low. It seemed possessive, unsettled, and she suddenly got the feeling that these creatures were unfamiliar with being grouped together, outside of hunting, mating, and child rearing. It bumped its large face against her and she placed her hands to him once more. He seemed to like physical contact. Perhaps, as proof, that she meant no ill will. The fact that she didn't shy away also lent a certain degree of trust. “What shall I call you?”

“Etrigan…”, she murmured after a long moment, petting the so-called Sky Demon carefully, gauging its response. It, he, didn’t seem to mind and screeched after a moment. The bellow caught her off guard and made her knees feel like jelly. There was something Force related in their sonic roars—that was for sure. “If you keep that up, I will begin calling you Etrigan the Loud.”

The creature huffed at her, almost as if it had a sentient personality, and Srina could only laugh in return. She remembered, briefly, that Metus expected them to take flight with their Catra’diamtr. The Echani was light, diminutive in size, but she wasn’t sure Etrigan was ready to carry her as a burden. He’d spent so long in a box. Perhaps, her Master would forgive her, if her feet remained on the ground.

[member="Er'in Tenel"] | [member="Darth Metus"] | [member="Mirvak"] | [member="The Fallen"] | [member="Akabane"]

 

[Er'in Tenel]

Er'in watched Srina out of the corner of her eye, unable to suppress the surge of jealousy. Well, everyone was new once, and everyone had to be the weakest once.

Never again, a voice in her head said.

She remembered the desperate days before Metus came into her life - her whole house collapsing around her, the search for funds, for backing, for anything to keep them in remotely royal status. The way everyone had laughed at her, the hollow shell of the beautiful dresses and the... death of her mother.

"How could she have left me to fall this low?" Er'in snarled, not noticing she was speaking out loud. Opposite her, the immense dragon cocked it's head to one side. Then rumble-bellowed an agreement emerged from the creatures roar, the resonant roar of the force echoing through Er'in even as she stumbled backwards.

It agreed, never again. Confinement did not suit it. It tilted it's head, and Er'in recognised something in that aristocratic haughter - the apex predator submits to no one. This beast would never be tamed. She reached out gently with the Force, more confident this time in her use of it - she'd seen several people try the same thing. Not a command, not even really a proposal or a deal. An extended hand perhaps, to the creatures soul.

It stilled, as if waiting for something, then Er'in understood, she walked in close to it - not yet having any telekinetic fine control - or any control, really - to pull the pins on the chains, she had to do so manually. But that extra little note of how weak she was compared to the others did not sting now, for the alpha female lowered it's neck to the ground without being asked and Er'in, almost dreamlike, climbed up onto it's back.

She could feel it's/her/their talons dug into the ground, the surge of power as they lifted their neck into the air, the joint moment of fear as both of them balanced Er'in at the nape of their own neck. Then the blessed whip-snap freedom of wings being extended to their fullest width, and a screaming roar being uttered to the sky. Then they settled down as one, Er'in stretching her arms in unconcious mimicry of her mount, and both of them turned to regard the others, as if waiting for something.

"Kinta." They said... well, the dragon roared at the same time Er'in spoke. Also, when did Er'in speak even a word of ancient Sith? Even one so simple as 'Black'?

Not the traditional form of beastmastery, anyone sensible could tell Er'in that, but it worked.

[member="Srina Talon"] | Darth Metus | Mirvak | The Fallen | Akabane​