One Clan

[Xevek Nekonis]

A cloaked figure strode down the length of a fully stone corridor, arms clasped behind his back as he walked the stone floor which was covered with a loose scattering of grains of sand, blown in by the gusts of wind that howled after the cloaked figure, the rage possessed within the sandstorm slowly growing. Even as the howling continued behind him, fists of wind slamming into his back and causing his cloak to billow slight and the grains of individual sand dug into the bared soles of his feet, the figure carried on with his carefully measured strides, calmly carrying himself towards the large, engraved stone double-doors that were set into the rocky walls of the cave, ignoring the sight of the four Iridonian guards that stood at attention outside of the doors. Beneath the folds of his cloak, feint sparks could be seen as carefully sharpened claws scrapped upon the aged stone.

As he approached, the guards drew themselves erect, blades ringing as they were drawn from sheaths and leveled within the figure's direction. Still, he did not slow. "Halt." The word was barked out in, to a Basic speaker, what would be a mix of growls and harsh, enunciated syllables. Still, the figure did not slow. Looking amongst themselves, two of the guards charged forwards, blades swinging through the air, singing as they went. However, with a simple raised hand, the movement of the guards began to slow before it halted all together. Unseen to the guards, the ethereal power that was the Force had seeped into their bodies though a Dark poison implanted within their Presences within the Force, the chemicals within their synapses, chemicals which carried electrical impulses from one end of the synapse to another, where slowed, meaning that while the process of passing on the neural impulses, that time was now stretched to a near eternity for the guards, the thoughts halted and bodies unable to move without the neurological commands. The only commands still working were the commands for the heart to beat and the lungs to breath, to ensure the guards' continued survival.

However, the two remaining guards knew none of that and chose, also, to charge at the steadily advancing figure before, they too, met the same fate. Picking his way around the statue like forms that were once the guards, the figure raised a hand and push on a level above the physical plane.

The two heavy double doors would swing open with speed, slamming against the stone walls on either side and causing all silence within the chamber beyond to cease and pair after pair of eyes to swivel directly to the now open doorway and the figure passing through. Even then, the figure did nothing other than walk forwards at a fast but measured pace, hands once more clasped behind his back. Coming to a stop on a center dais, the figure looked from one group of gathered Zabrak to another, matching faces to remembered names. Clans Ketmel, Zelmen, Cazeth, Mezka, Izreth, Zoktek, Kilkel, Meyrel, Azmez and Telkek were in attendance as they should be, each group comprising of the Clan Matriarch, Elders and Advisors, each one staring down at the figure from the semi-circle arranged, raised seats that they sat in. To the figure's immediate left were the group of Otherworld Visitors, those from Offworld Clans held in enough prestige to attend the Matriarch Council Gathering. To the figure's immediate right was an empty set of seat, those that belonged to the near extinct Clan Uigin.

Slowly, the figure would reach up, revealing one arm to by made out of a dull, black metal as the cloak would fall away from his arms. Pulling back the hood that obscured his face in shadows, the figure stared from Clan to Clan once more, this time catching their gazes easily. The figures face was deeply tanned and wind weathered, an array of scars winding their way across his features. In particular the scars were gathered around the right side of his face, remains of whip marks and burns easily visible among the scars caused by a blade. His eyes were a deep, burnt orange, or, they would be, if he did not possess only one eye, the other lost leaving behind a socket covered over with scarred grafts of skin and surrounded by a slightly misshaped face from where shattered bone could not be replaced and the remaining pieces of skull had not been properly set. His hair was a sand grey and pulled back into a series of dreadlocks that were woven around jagged horns and disappeared into the depth of his cloak. This was the face of Xavka Duquo of Clan Uigin.

"Child," the voice of Dret Mezka, Matriarch of Clan Mezka, would sound out into the chamber, her voice as weathered as she looked, "why do you choose to intrude upon the Matriarchs? Speak, or forfeit your life." Slowly, Xavka would nod before speaking, his voice, deep and gravelly, echoing within the now silent chamber.

"You notice, surely, that Clan Uigin does not sit upon its seats. Yet, in the past, in the time of our Ancestors recent and old, they have never permitted themselves to be absent before. Does this not intrigue or confuse you? Does this mean that you were complacent?" Xavka's gaze would flicker from Matriarch to Matriarch once more. "I am Xavka Duquo, High Jath of Clan Uigin. I stand before you with the news that the Clan of Uigin is near dead, near extinct. I come upon out grounds and find women, children and men alike rotting under the glare of the sun. Throats and chest torn asunder by blades of anther Clan!" Xavka's angered shout echoed within the Chamber as he took a deep breath before continuing, his voice much calmer once more.

"Not since the Ages of Blood has a Clan acted against another without the permissions granted by a declared Blood Feud and yet, none has been declared in recent times, or I would have been called to arms. That means that one amongst you, either with or without the blessing of the others, acted in such a manner that you opposed the honoured declarations carved into the foundations of out nomadic lives by our Ancestors. That means that one amongst you is of dishonour, of digrace. That one amongst you have violated the words of those that came before us!"

Xavka's voice, which had been raised into a shout, once more quieted, this time to a near whisper. "Which of you is it? Which of you are the disgraced and dishonoured? Will you speak now? Or let me name you?" Silence reigned within the chamber as Xavka slowly span about, an expression of amusement cross his features as the silence continued. "You will not confess? You wish for me to speak your names? Or is it that you do not believe that I know who you are, Losh Telkek?" The name was snarled out between clenched teeth before his face fell into a calm expression once more.

"You, Clan Telkek, set upon Clan Uigin, ending the lives of warriors and healer, men, women and children alike with no regard to the Words Once Spoken on this very spot that ensured our people's continued survival. The ensured that we would not tear one another apart. Words sealed in Honour and Blood, the foundations of Iridonia itself, lay down before even the first covering of sand emerged. You committed the Sin Against Blood for while every body that lays beneath the Sun now bears the names Uigin, I know that some I personally buried and read the Rites for were of Telkek Blood. Kin Killers, Oath Breaks, Those Without Honour. Cowards for avoiding the Feuds. That is what you are."

With the ring of metal against metal, the hidden blade within Xavka's cybernetic arm slide forwards. However, instead of striking at the Clan Heads, the blade was pressed against his biological palm until blood began to drip onto the stone beneath his feet. "I shall do what you were to cowardly to do. I so take upon myself the mantle of Patriarch of Uigin, claiming the Title not used since the Blood ages where Matriarchs passed in fields of battle without successors. I take upon the duty of rebirth and creating the Clan of Uigin. I take upon me the burden of leadership. I spill blood of my own before yourselves and the Ancestors to stake this ancient claim. I am now Xavka Uigin, of the Family Duquo of Clan Uigin, High Jath and Patriarch of the surviving Blood. And I, Patriarch Uigin, do rebirth the Clan into Clan Rakama and do declare that I, Xavka Rakama, of Family Duquo of the Clan Rakama, Formerly Uigin, swear upon and Oath of Blood to enact a Blood Feud between the Clans Telkek and Rakama, Formerly Uigin!"


[member="Darth Ferus"] (@Darth Ferox)

 

[Darth Ferus]

Silence had fallen over so many as [member="Darth Lykos"] had begun to speak. All eyes were on the Uigin. Many did wonder why such a powerful and influential clan was missing from such a meeting. Why was answered as Xavka spoke, and all it did was stun the crowd to silence. Slaughtered? A whole clan, and not just a minor. A major. What's more, another of the high clans carried out the deed? The Telkek? Panic filled the whispers of the lesser clans. What would happen to those who served the Uigin? Would the Telkek come for them next?

Once again, silence. As blood dripped to the floor, it became all to clear what was going to happen.

In the back, one more set of eyes that had remained closed opened. The golden eyes peered towards he who would begin a feud, and the cloth masked figure watched and listened.

It was Col Zelmen, Matriarch of her clan, who broke the stunned silence of the crowd. "There has not been a Blood Feud for many, many years. Longer than you have been alive, Xavka Rakama. Yet, I understand why. We, the council, understand why. None shall interfere with this quest for justice. Let it be heard now that only those of the Uigin and the Telkek are allowed to cross blades, and they cannot do so here, the chamber of the Matriarchs." One by one the other Matriarchs stood, and in a similar fashion to the challenger they cut their palms, letting their words be sealed in blood. All, but Losh Telkek.

Losh stood, but her burning gaze stared down to her adversary. "Little Uigin, you have made a mistake. You and I both know you could not stand up against just one of our warriors, and now the whole of the clan will be after your head. You are alone, and you will die alone. May your bones rot with the rest of your clan." And with that, Losh too cut her palm. It was done.

The feud was to begin.

 

[Xevek Nekonis]

Staring at the aged figure of the Matriarch, Xavka simply raise one hairless brow as low and slow chuckling growls of amusement would echo from within his throat. Taking in the woman's paler than normal skin tone, speaking to a life sheltered away from the sun, her log red hair with streaks of white braided so as to weave around the much more curved horns than the ones that Xavka possessed and her slightly softer form, visible beneath the robes she wore in her position of power, it all spoke to Xavka of a life much more simpler and easier than the one he had lived, suffered and survived through.

Slowly, the quiet chuckles would escalate in volume as he simply laughed in the face of the woman who dared to threaten him after what she had done to his Clan. Suddenly, as quickly as he the laughing began, it stopped, leaving an echoing and cacophonous silence within the room, many of the Matriarchs and Elders staring at him in disbelief and a sense of worry over his mental state. Slowly, almost as if watching the surface stone of a statue racking and falling away to reveal a second set of features beneath, his face transitioned into a vicious snarl of anger and mockery; the scars along his face twisted in the low light to look like deep, shadow filled trenches. Pacing with small, measured steps, Xavka kept his eye locked on Losh, his arms clasped behind his back.

"Do you think me weak, Losh? You who know nothing of what I have suffered? Of what I have fought through, survived through.The only reason you and yours are yet to be able to greet Nath is die to my respect to the Customs set by our Ancestors, a claim you can not make. One of your warriors, I could slice the throats off all of them in the night without them knowing, without them having the chance to scream or beg me for the mercy they did not show my kin. I may be alone, yes, but that is because I live and thrive in the Shadows. Alone I may be, weak I am not. And you will know this soon, for for every drop of Uigin blood that now stains the body of out planet, I will shed blood from Telkek in return. It is such a shame that the Uigins outnumbered the Telkek. But, then, I suppose I will simply have to spill every drop of Telkek blood before I am done."

Stopping directly in front of the Telkek Chairs, Xavka leaned forwards, his voice dropping to a whisper that still managed to echo within the chamber. "You seem to believe that I require or came before this assembly to request aid. You are foolish to believe this. Unlike you, I have glared into the face of Lord Nath and been returned to the mortal coil. I have fought with Lord Vysh’s hand guiding my own, to land strike true. I have been permitted by Lady Slayemith to recover from wounds I should not have. Unlike you, I have greeted and accepted the God, Children of Amina. I do not ask for aid, nor have need of it, to seek and complete the Feud."

Stepping backward from the Telkeks, Xavka moved to stand in the middle of the chamber once more, raising his voice loudly in a furious roar. "I am Xavka Duquo: The Darth Lykos; Now Patriarch, High Jath and Warlord of Clan Rakama; Sin of Sloth; The Wolf That Guards and The Shadow That Kills. And Clan Telkek has earned my wrath.and by the day's end, they will be no more!"

Suddenly, the Force would twist and writhe around the Zabrak Sith before his figure would vanish from the room entirely.


[member="Darth Ferox"]

 

[Darth Ferus]

There would have been a retort from Losh after [member="Darth Lykos"] spoke, but no sooner than he finished did he disappear from the room entirely. A stunned silence was all that was left in his wake as the Matriarchs looked to one another in confusion. It was then that another form walked to the center of the room. A man in a tan cloak stood before the whole of the council. One without a tribe, made clear by the lack of tattoo's across his skin.

Col stared for the stranger, breaking the silence. "What ever you may have to say will have to wait. This Blood Feud I assume will have Losh heading after the Warlord." Losh was already packing up her things as hastily as possible. But the figure did not move from the room, and instead pulled off the cloak he was wearing. Underneath revealed a leather hide outfit and the blood red skin of the Zabrak.

"My name is Ferox. This Blood Feud, this ancient custom. Used to spill the blood of our own people again and again. Don't you tire of killing your own kind? Of turning on brother and sister alike without any reason but a thirst for battle? We hide here on our own planet forsaking the rest of the galaxy. Don't you remember a time when the Galaxy fear us?" Ferox wasn't speaking to the high council. His back had turned to them, and was clearly addressing the room.

It was Losh who answered, still angered about the feud. "You have no place to speak here, smooth skin. These are our ancient traditions. One you could not understand."

"Losh, was it?" Ferox turned his head, peering over at her with a single blue eye. "Ancient, right? Yet their ancestors ruled the skies. Planets. Look at you now, about to be slaughtered by your own actions."

"You have NO RI-"

"He speaks true words."

Col spoke over Losh at her height of her anger. Calmly she spoke, clearly leading the whole of the council. "Ferox, right? You're words are true. You know our past before our past. How do you propose we become what we once were?"

"Why, you all unite. With me as your leader."

 

[Xevek Nekonis]

Appearing out of thin air just outside of the large rock within which the Chamber had been carved, Xavka immediately dropped into a crouch as his biological hand came up to whip away the few drops of crimson blood that had begun to slowly drip out of his nose, staining his tanned skin red. Sighing slightly as the tremors that shook his shoulder, Xavka began to push himself erect once more, groaning underneath his breath as the muscles in his back protested the movement. While Fold Space had been something he had know since his Master, Darth Ophidia, has granted him Knighthood on that cold moon, the ability was still a bit of a struggle to use without suffering any adverse effect. Commonly within the side of effects that he would suffer, more often than not, the most common one was feeling his nose beginning to bleed and a least one group of muscles ache and strain.

Cracking his neck sharply, the Iridonian Sith slowly began to look around himself, taking in the scene with a small smirk on his dry lips. The large rock he had just exited was smooth, having been worn as such by centuries upon centuries of howling winds and sand storms. Painted along the brown, sad and dust covered surface were numerous symbols in Ul'Zabrak, each one singing praises and telling stories of Iridonians long since one with the sands and of the Gods and Goddesses that look down upon them all; faded drawing having fresher, bolder ones set atop of them. The rock itself was large and jutted out of the rolling plains of sand like a rock piercing the surface of water, towering above the loose grains of sand that swirled around its base. For miles around, the rock was the tallest structure and held such a title with pride, reaching up towards the heavens as if to be blessed by the Pantheon.

Turning his burnt orange gaze away from the site, Xavka focused on the gathering of makeshift tents to his direct 5 o'clock. Printed along the side of the more refined looking tents was a symbol, one that bred anger within his hearts upon gazing upon it; the symbol of Clan Telkek. Feeling a bloodthristy smile fight to form on his face and the howling of his inner, baser instincts. Xavka closed his eye in concentration, forcing himself to accept the fact that he would not be spilling the blood of children that day, imprinting it as a truth so strong that even should he lose control of his desire for blood and vengeance, it would still be a limit he would not cross.

That done, his eye would snap open as viscous, physical looking shadows began to drip from his form and his eye began to glow dull orange. Tipping his head back, a howling roar would echo across the open land, bouncing off of the sand dunes and, mostly likely, reaching the ears of the Matriarchs and Elders. Any being that heard the roar would feel a shiver of cold fear claw up their spine and the sensation of Lord Nath, He who ruled the dead, breathing on their necks as the combination of Force Fear and Bellow did its part.

As the roar came to an end, Xavka would surge forwards in a burst of movement on all four limbs, cloak billowing out behind him, before his form would disappear from view as the shadows seemingly dripping from his form would swell up to consume him before falling away, leaving an empty space and steadily progressing, barely there, marks in the shifting sand that were soon consumed as the low winds buried them.


[member="Darth Ferox"]

 

[Darth Ferus]

"You must be joking. Unite under you? An outsider with no clan? No one in their right mind would EVER follow the clanless." Losh spoke with venom dripping from her words. Not only had [member="Darth Lykos"] gone through what she could only assume was teleportation, but this man, this outsider, so casually tried to get all the clans to back him. The clan of Cazeth echoed her opinion, yet the other clans murmured among themselves.

It was clan Zoktek that broke the silence. Their matriarch, Sill, stared directly at Ferox, her brown eyes seeming to burn right into his soul. "You are an outsider. One who's voice was allowed simply because of the truth you spoke. We have kept to these traditions for generations longer than you have existed in this galaxy, and you ask us to cast them aside to follow you. What claim do you have to lead us, the council?"

The tattooless Zabrak bowed his head to the woman as she addressed him. He did not expect them to simply fall in line with what he had planned, that would be foolish on anyone's part. Yet as he stepped into the center of the room, he slowly began to shrug off the tunic he had covered himself in so long to hide both his shame and his pride. Upon his back was a mark he was born with, the only mark that could exist on his flesh.

The mark of Be'etena.

Hushed whispers echoed throughout the chamber as Krest made it clear to see, his face devoid of any smile or tell tale sign of emotion. "My name is Krest, last of the Be'etena clan. My mother was taken by the Graug Horde, and my father rallied their clan to bring her back. Each of you was approached and asked for help, and none of you responded. You let them all die for they were not worth your time."

If not for the truth to his words, Krest was certain now would be the time he would be struck down. Yet as his blue gaze went to each of the Matriarchs, he saw nothing but confusion. As his gaze went to the elders however, he could see their shame. "My mother, the last Matriarch of my clan, was tortured brutally by the Horde. They manipulated the Force within her in a quest to control it, and created me. A Force Born. My shame, my pride. I was born with this mark as any true born of the Be'etena would be, despite having no father. For years I traveled this galaxy with no knowledge on who I was. My father, broken after the slaughter of the clan, took his hate out on me until I was strong enough to kill him."

"Who cares? A broken childhood makes you suddenly worthy of being a leader of our people? Your legacy is over. Your clan dead. Your legend erase-" Losh quickly stopped talking as something in the Force suddenly alerted her to the sensation of death. Fear slithered up her spine as the now blood red gaze of the Zabrak fell upon her. The eyes of the Nek Am'Slaret.

"Ancient legend dictates that a true born of my clan, when all but one are slain, would come before the council of the Nomads to unite all of them. Tradition dictates my trial to prove this will be to enter the chamber of the First. There, I will absorb his power, and prove myself. Are there any who would deny my right to trial?"

With a start several of the Matriarchs stood, anger growing in their hearts. Yet before they could say anything, it was Col who spoke. "You speak correctly. Our traditions and tales speak of the return of a King or Queen. But we will not submit to anyone. Our independence is our own, and even should you succeed you will not find us kneeling."

"I do not wish for the clans to bend a knee to a King who's line has been broken for so many centuries. All I wish to do is unite the clans together as one people. We are all brothers and sisters, be us of one clan or another, or those in the cities. We must not fight against one another anymore. Let this blood feud end this infighting. Let us return to the stars. Together."

Once more, quiet murmurs could be heard in Ferox's ears. Internal discussions between the advisers and elders, each voicing their opinion on this matter. Until Sil, who had remained silent after Krest's unveiling of the mark, stood and spoke once more. "We of the Zoktek trust in our ancient traditions. If he proves himself a true decedent, we are willing to work with the other clans. We long to return to the stars, and still hold onto the schematics of our ships. We will not kneel before any king, but perhaps it is time for us to bring our people back to the galaxy."

"Clan Kelman agrees. This council we have could easily work together on more than just blood feuds. The ancestors of our ancestors ruled. We could return. End our infighting and bring ourselves out of the shadows." Bez Kelman, of the Kelman clan, spoke next. She was followed by Azmez, Izreth, Kilkel, and even the Zelmen. As they all pledged their desire to unite should this 'king' be proven right, all but Cazeth, Telkek, Meyrel, and Mezka.

"We of the Mezka, Cazeth, and Meyrel make no promises. The spirits of our people remain still, and have not spoken their intention. We will see what this.. 'King' will prove with this trial. And should he, we will make our decision. We all agree for the end of the blood feud however, regardless of where this may lead." Both Wo and Doz nodded in agreement to what Dret had said.

The only one who had not voiced their opinion was none other than Telkek. Losh could only tremble as she quickly found herself outnumbered. Found herself unable to leave and return to her clan, where she knew the little Uigin was planning his attack. Anger tore through her mind as the fear from the gaze subsided, and with an almost roar she pulled free her blade.

"We of the Telkek will never recognize this outsider or their claim," She spat as she made her way into the center arena. "I challenge you for your insolence and I will cut your tongue from your mouth to remind everyone here the danger of sly words. Prepare to join your clan, 'King.'"