Seekers of the Rift: Our Meeting Place

[Boethiah]

Dantooine.

The paradisaical world that lied in the Outer Rim, Dantooine held beautiful plains, ancient groves, and caverns saturated in the force. Many great creatures made home here, too, and once upon a time Dantooine was home to the Jedi Enclave. The force itself had taken a special interest in the backwater world and thus today, Dantooine would be immortalized yet again.

"It is time... Summon the Borne, Walkers, and Singers. We will meet here." The Host Lord, an Elder of the Riftsingers, and a member of the Conclave walked through one of the many blbla groves, this one however was growing from a small ruin. Surrounding her were servants and acolytes who accompanied her to this place.

The purpose of her being here was to summon the Seekers of the Rift, those who would bring truth to the blind and help guide the lost. Yet they needed direction, a place to start, a shared goal for the Seekers to pool their resources into. She would need the help of everyone who shared the will of Sargon, everyone who belonged to the Seekers. And so a call went out, reaching every corner of the galaxy.

Seekers of the Rift, you have stood in silence and observed the galaxy spin so slowly. It is time for your voice to be heard, for our actions to be seen. I call all who bear the name of our Order to find me on Dantooine, you know the path you must follow from there.

[member="Darth Metus"] | [member="Zambrano the Hutt"] | [member="Einar Shadowmane"] | [member="Felista Rakk"] | [member="Naga Itesak"] | [member="Grimoire "]| [member="Asher"] | [member="Boo Chiyo"] | [member="Javik Quar-Kai"] | [member="Darth Zola"] | [member="Enoch Zambrano"] | [member="Thais Kallisto"] | [member="Token Waters"]

 

[Armand Temi]

The Princess jerked up from her canopied bed as though gasping for air. She heard a faint voice calling to her, so rubbing the sleep out of her eyes and still in her nightgown, she padded to the window. The marble floor was cold on her bare feet and a chill went up her spine. She peered out of the open window to the garden below to see if the voice was coming from outside. But the garden was still and quiet. Inhaling the scent of night flowers blooming, she closed the window with a shiver.

The voice that had called to her clung to her clothing and her hair like the smell of the flowers. The word Dantooine came unbidden to her.

This was not a dream.

Princess Kallisto quickly dressed and took only Napo along with her for the trip. The Gutetree attendant was stunned at Thais's fervor for this nighttime journey off of Isis but like the loyal servant he was, he did not question. She also did not want anyone in the court to know where she was, so the story that was left with Miss Janine was that she was on some "emergency business on Mustafar."

She had her crew of The Crystal Rose, her newest luxury ship, a Stardream-Class designed by her suitor, Aleksandry Gaillard, plot a course for Dantooine. She couldn't tell whether she was bothered, bewitched or just ill with fever, but she had to get to this planet. Napo looked at her disapprovingly. She had been spending an awful lot of time with the Primeval, helping them, signing contracts, and learning of their religion. Could this be a curse? Or was she blessed with the will of Sargon and was now being led away to do his bidding?

She finally arrived at the blbla grove. Leaving Napo on the ship with her crew. She realized that her suspcious was right - she had been called by the Primeval.

Because ahead of her was the Host Lord she had met during a prior business meeting. The Umbaran Empress was surrounded by servants and attendants, much like the Princess herself would be in her own court. Thais had changed from her nightgown, obviously, and wore a modest dress for this occasion. Her long, chestnut hair flowed down around her shoulders in unusual fashion for her because she kept it up in public most of the time. But since she had been awoken by this compelling voice, she had felt keenly aware of everything around her. The energy of the Force was finally known to the Princess. And on this day, she would learn how to use it.

[member="Zambrano the Hutt"] [member="Einar Shadowmane"] [member="Felista Rakk"] [member="Naga Itesak"] [member="Grimoire "][member="Asher"] [member="Boo Chiyo"] [member="Javik Quar-Kai"] [member="Darth Zola"] [member="Enoch Zambrano"] [member="Token Waters"] [member="Anja Aj'Rou"]

 

[Rapax]

Nagas eyes snapped open during his meditation hearing the voice. He knew he must listen to it for now...he was among the seekers there fore he must listen....or miss a opportunity of a life time.. He climbed aboard his freighter and set a course of dantooine, When he landed he saw [member="Thais Kallisto"] ...so she was one of the seekers as well...fate is a interesting beast indeed. he saw our host lord before her and bowed to her and waited for the rest.

 

[Zak Dymo]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eam9v9FsLw4​

| OSWAFT STATION
| Levantine Astronautical Academy
| In Orbit of Laekia (The Silver Sanctum Coalition)

"...control of shipping lanes was integral to the strategy employed by the Confederacy of Independent Systems during the Clone Wars."

The life-size hologram of a Muun professor lectured at the head of an oval shaped classroom. Circular, raised platforms created a series of levels which staggered the elevation higher, so that the middle and back of the room peered down at the circular round where the hologram paced and gestured toward holographic charts and aids. As the historian continued, the Pantoran youngling in the blue uniform of the Frontier Corps worked at taking notes on his datapad.

"In particular, General Grievous' overall employment of forces suggests he was interesting in achieving dominion over several trade spines key to commerce in the galaxy of the..."

Boo.

The boy's violet topped head came up, amber eyes looking around in confusion. As he looked around, he saw cadets focused on the lecture at hand. And, yet, he'd been certain just now that he'd heard someone speak his name. After a moment of looking around the room, the boy returned his attention to the professor and returned to his notes.

Seeker.

The youngling's head came up a second time. His eyes hesitant as he was no longer certain he had heard so much as felt someone calling out to him. Raising his eyes, the boy turned his head to find himself gazing out a window into the familiar starfield of infinite space. The radiant blue-green light of the planet Laekia just visible in the lower portion of the transparisteel glass. Somewhere, between the points of light, he could sense a presence. It beckoned to him, as though demanding an answer.

Boo.

Furtively, the boy's brow furrowed as the Pantoran tried to make sense of his feelings. The elusive glimpse of the Force offered no clarity, causing the boy to only dig deeper into questions which precipitated no answers and only more questions. What was it that called to him? Who was it? And why? Or where?

"Boo!"

The sharp voice from next to him snapped the tween back to the reality of where he was. Jolted upright in his seat, the Pantoran youth looked back around the interior of the classroom, finding all eyes on him. Including the professor's.

"Thank you for re-joining us, Cadet Chiyo. Now perhaps you would provide us with the name of the planet that was the cornerstone of the strategy we are discussing?"

A light dusting of violet colored the boy's face in embarrassment at having been caught looking out the window, lost somewhere in a dream within a dream. And still, without hesitating, the boy answered with a word on his lips he hadn't even realized was there. "Dantooine."

No sooner had he spoken, than he paused with wonder. Why had he said that?

The room around him erupted into laughter at his mistake, deepening the blush before another cadet spoke up and said, "Duro, sir."

"Duro, control of which allowed for strategic re-positioning of forces that could strike Corellia, Alderaan, or Coruscant -- which they did in 19 BBY. Flip your text to Chapter Nineteen, page seven, and..."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~​

| DANTOOINE
| Raioballo Sector (The Primeval)

The distinctive shape of a Sith Infiltrator cut across the sea of stars.

The black ship glided from out of hyperspace and into orbit of a terrestrial blue-brown world on the far side of the heavens. The Pantoran had spent the trip from Laekia in prayer, having changed out of the uniform of the Coalition and into the more familiar white monk garb. His left arm was wrapped in the beads of a reverie chain, the religious icon intertwined around the wristlink that the boy wore. An amphistaff encircled the boy's body as he sat, still, on the floor.

A series of whistles and chirps echoed from the front of the large, round room which encompassed both the lounge and the cockpit of the Star Courier. The boy's amber eyes opened at the question from the orange-colored astromech droid. "No, I don't know why we're here, ArThree," the boy answered, rising to his feet.

Making his way to the front of the transport's bridge, the youth peered down at the controls. Several other Primeval identicodes, and a few unfamiliar to him, seemed already present on the world below. "Set us down here," the boy said, keying in a location alongside the other Primeval signals

The world below loomed larger, as the astromech pilot repositioned the sleek craft for atmospheric entry. As he watched the ship descend in planetfall, the Pantoran child reached up to pet the head of the amphistaff coiled about his frame. The serpentine biot and the droid were ever his two companions, as he fell into Pan's Labyrinth in search of a mystery shrouded by an enigma.

He prayed to the Primeval for guidance, knowing not what it was that he was about to find here.

[member="Anja aj'Rou"] | [member="Naga Itesak"] | [member="Thais Kallisto"]​

 

[Zambrano the Starweird]

Humming imperceptibly, the vocal cords within the throat of the Black Prophet vibrated gently against each other, while the remainder of his body remained deathly still. Darkness shrouded every feature, producing a formless figure staring out in the distance without the means to see. The air was empty, save for the scent of blood. The force was balanced, save for the reverberating monster that rattled at his black heart with every slow thump. The air was soundless, save for the casual drip generating echoes from the walls. The mind was empty...

... Save for the horror. Imagine a trillion orbs all equally holding within them the potential for life, squirming furiously alive within the confines of their microbial shells. Imagine that these same orbs compose the very darkness surrounding you... all that you did not see, were these unhatched embryonic beings. Imagine unborn fangs. Imagine a sightless multitude of eyes. Image eight spindly appendages simultaneously puncturing through the soft shell of their confines, and rising from the shallow depths of their prenatal lives to swarm over their siblings in a tidal wave of horrific hissing.

This is what he kept at bay. The cacophonous report of fear present within the complex confines of the Prophet's mind was of an incredibly powerful substance... far too great for the Warlord to utilize... far too great to tame, and control. Only the Prophet held the discipline to maintain, and direct the very essence of the Warlord's fear. The Warlord was a slave to this fear, and thus slave to the Prophet.

A disturbance in the force, stirred the sleeping terrors strung up to the web of Zambrano's mind. An echo was produced by no droplet of blood, but by the shine of a distant star... the dawn to his midnight. Two glowing slits cut through the silhouette of the sleeping giant, pure white with meditative transcendence, and the utter brilliance of its zealous fury burned the invisible arachnid nest into a swirling green inferno at the first touch of its voracious awakening.

---------------​

Dantooine​

---------------​

​

The soft clinking of bone upon bone accompanied the Bokan as he rested within his Throne, which carried him across the plains of Dantooine with nothing but the wind to stir the movements of the ornamentations adorning him. His undead staff was rested across his bulging fat belly, while his writhing hands enveloped either end of it, removing even more rotting meat from Captain Slika's face, whom was by now mutilated beyond possible recognition. The Warlord of the rift held curious green eyes, probing the force with his oil-slick yet ashen influence over the force, calling upon the L'ans for further guidance.

When there was a more sizable appearance of Seekers, the Black Prophet of Balagoth would appear, and cause a change of tone among those assembled. It would seem that infamy, knew well how to follow any member of the Zambrano's... but much like his nephew, this particular Zambrano had formulated his own brutalizing reputation, and none heard it best than the Primeval - heaven of exiles, breeding grounds for zealots.

 

[Boethiah]

Anja looked to those who have arrived. [member="Boo Chiyo"], loyal as always, and [member="Zambrano the Hutt"], one whom Anja had not often seen in person. Then the always quiet, [member="Naga Itesak"] who followed the rest from adventure to adventure.

"Others will be here," she spoke softly to the two arrivals. Already the acolytes that were with her began preparations as the sky grew darker, certainly the Seekers would arrive, one-by-one. It was always a matter of time with the Primeval. One moment they were quiet, waiting for something... Then the next they lunged out at their prey, consuming whatever glimmer had caught their eye.

What was it the seekers sought? Bringing truth to the blind, bringing the name of their Gods to those who lost all will to believe in something greater? Perhaps. Or perhaps their truest objective had yet to be discovered. Always, there were mysteries to be solved, challenges to test the best and brightest of them all, and events would unfold that even the Elders would have to show their resolve. When the doors to Wild Space opened, the Primeval went through with a leap of faith and did not look back. Now before them was what the Celestials let behind... Untold riches, lucrative knowledge, and powers that cannot be dreamt.

The witch twisted her body as she turned, "there is power in this place." She said as the magicks around them stirred like dust in a storm.

[member="Sirak Kolar"] | [member="Darth Metus"] | [member="Einar Shadowmane"] | [member="Grimoire "]| [member="Asher"] | [member="Javik Quar-Kai"] | [member="Felista Rakk"] | [member="Token Waters"]

 

[Matreya]

A darkness floated forth from seemingly nowhere, as if a corporeal mist. It moved and swayed with the winds, bent and dipped as if effected by gravity unlike usual fog. Until it slowly swirled together to create the form of Asher whom crouched low and eyed those around them.

"What are we doing here...?" Asher murmured.

 

[Matreya]

Damien swiftly rose from bed, without a word or hesitation. As if he had simply been meditating, and not in dead sleep, he was moving to dress himself. Arming his person to the teeth, as he always did since his trip to Felusia, Damien quickly reached out to his bodyguard Vain. The Andoliths name was far to long, so Damien had chosen to shorten it.

He had not erased from the beings memories his true name, simply bent his will until the new suited him better.

Immediately the massive centaur like being rose from his place in the foyer of Danish estate. He to began to prepare, yet had far less to do to make himself presentable. Presently he put on a mail shirt, his blasters under each arm in their respective holsters, and draped a blanket over the rear half of his form. Lastly, Vain to awoke Deriss, the Alunrovaan youth that was in training to be Damien's aid as well.

When they were finished, they approached their Master. //Master, you sent for us??// Vain's strong mental presence murmured to Damien whom nodded.

"Yes, there has been a call to all of the Rift. We will make haste to meet the call." He murmured back. Clad in his Inquisitor X-1 Armor, with Kalligs lightsaber, Tantibus, and 3 Betty Blasters in the holsters of his Gun Belt, he was ready. Yet still, over his he threw his Cater Coat, and the Cloak of Nuun he had been putting to more use recently.

He was finally ready.

With that, they headed for the nearest port on Tera Lush. From there made haste to Dantooine. It was a swift and uneventful trip, and one that Damien was ready to be done with.

Emerging into the waning sunlight, he turned and bowed to the Host Lord. The woman had become someone he enjoyed to see, as it usually was the means to aj end for whatever current goals he housed. Vain bowed low as well, bending at the frontal legs, and elogantly showing his scorpion like tail. Deriss did not bow like the other two, instead simply inclined his head, the pale blonde hair shifting slightly in the motion; his piercing blue eyes seemed to take in every inch of everything in their surroundings.

With the speed bequeathed to his species, he was calculating how difficult it would be to kill anyone present, to escape if need be, among hundreds of other things a second.

"Host Lord, it is an honor. May I present my acquaintances, Deriss is the youth there, and Vain the Andolith. Both I am training to be of service to the Primeval." Damien said with a smile to one he almost considered a friend.

[member="Anja Aj'Rou"]

 

[Sirak Kolar]

A soft wind blew over the Zabrakian as he sat, meditating in the tall grass of the fields of Dantoonie. His mind wandered, effortlessly and slowly from thought to thought, and in this rare moment he had no passion, no vindication, and no outburst of emotion. All was well in the relatively young Zabrakian, and he felt a welling power in his gullet. It was his mental fortitude that allowed for such calm moments, where nothing but the purgatory of his mind lay before him, and with it he found peace if only temporarily.
He brought the call he heard previously to the forefront of his mind with a relaxing exhale, his diaphragm expunging the stale and warm air of his lungs in a even and gentle push.

Seekers of the Rift, you have stood in silence and observed the galaxy spin so slowly. It is time for your voice to be heard, for our actions to be seen. I call all who bear the name of our Order to find me on Dantooine, you know the path you must follow from there.

A soft murmur, almost growl emanated from the Zabrak's throat. His eye's opened and he slowly lifted himself from the ground. His armor lifted with him, and his cloak drifted in the soft breeze, the invisible particles forming a current around him, a rock in the inevitable river of wind that cascaded over the plains he sat in. As his eye's wandered the empty field before him, he walked forward, each leg combing through the grass and creating their own paths. Surely, he picked up speed, enforced by a soft agility, each foot pounding a forming repetition of speed over the grass hills of the plain. He knew the path he must follow, and soon he would be there.

​

​

As he closed in on the conclave, he began to slow to a brisk walk, eventually coming over the hill insight of his soon to be allies. It wasn't long that Ebon had heard the call of the Primeval, but it was his calling, and he knew it to be true. His nearly shrouded eyes looked over the crowd with a reserved anticipation of who he'd meet, who he'd see, and the future of what he was soon to see. Eventually, he came to a soft stance with the others, his massive form looking intently on [member="Anja Aj'Rou"] before cascading to the giant Hutt, [member="Zambrano the Hutt"] , near him. Although nearly two meters in height, the Hutt still stood on par with him in simple girth alone, and he could feel the others emotions to this creature.

He turned back, narrowing his eyes to a soft focus into the nothingness of the horizon, waiting patiently for whatever it is to begin, to truly begin.

 

[Matreya]

Asher turned his eyes, which were green to himself but seen as the acid like yellow that others witnessed, towards the newcomers and those else that had been before himself. The Host Lord was a face he knew well, and there were a few others he did not. Such as the man whom showed to a meeting of allies armed to the teeth. But then arrived a Zabrakian, who was finally another that seemed as massively dominant as himself. Standing higher than 2 meters himself, he always found it warming to see another such as he.

Having not taken an entirely solid form, Asher pushed off the ground like a balloon tied to a small stone. He reached 15 feet off the ground as if weightless before slowly descending next to the red hued being. Both were epitome of their respective colors: one shown scarlet while every feature of the other seemed to be cast in the darkest shadows. When Asher was observed, one could make out a nose and eyes, alongside other features, but they needed to focus unnaturally to do so.

"What's up? Names Asher. Figured I would come and make myself known to those around here." Asher offered his hand to shake as he spoke.

[member="Sirak Kolar"]

 

[Sirak Kolar]

Ebon lazily gazed over to Asher, his rigid features gazing over the near ethereal form, studying his movements. Crossing his arms, two lightsabers bumped and jingled against his armored leg, one long and ornate, gold inlaid and exquisite, while the other laid plain, boring, and short. His face exposed itself from the white and blue hood, offering a clear example of who he was. His face eminated a gentle focus, one whatever it was it seemed to look at, and his strong features accented each other in a strong and yet subtle way.

His deep and settled voice offered a small retort, "Ebon. You've made yourself known, what now?", he offered in a questioning manner.

[member="Asher"]

 

[Matreya]

Asher chuckled, "Don't know. Did not think that far ahead. You seem like someone that wouldn't want to be messed with. If that's the case I can just float away." He offered. His eyes glanced down at the saber hilts against the others hips, and he pondered the worth of the more extensive one, but fought against his kleptomania and simple returned his eyes to the man with a grin.

The other man would soon learn he dealt with a mind that alchemical and thus intelligent to the highest degree, yet was immature having only lived 2 years.

[member="Sirak Kolar"]

 

[Sirak Kolar]

Ebon offered only a subtle grunt and a small laugh to accompany it. His eye's wandered back to the open air around them, occasionally looking back to the Host Lord in anticipation of what they would say or do, yet he would respond to Asher carefully, each word leaving the Zabrack's tongue with thought and contemplation behind each word.

"If you wish to stay next to me, be my guest.", he spoke, slowly and softly, "But I am not a man of many words."

He snorted, his nostrils flaring eccentrically before looking back to Asher, his arms still crossed in front of him.

[member="Asher"]

 

[Matreya]

"Well, companionship starts with ideals, not speeches. I'm looking for allies amongst these people. A man of few words, tends to be one of imperial actions." Asher stated, then grinned, the whites of his teeth being the only true color those around him could see on his form, "Besides, I bet you have loads to say, you just know better than to speak your mind!" His childishness seemed to accompany thought of one far more mature. It was an odd combination.

"What are your thoughts on those present?" Asher asked, his mind once again calculating, "The Host Lord, she is a powerful Witch, but one that could be over thrown if ever one with the correct skills ever chose to try. The Hutt," He paused, "I do not know much about him. Yet the aura reads one of a deadly opponent, whom could make a truly apt ally.

"Then there is the man in the armor over there." He muttered glancing next to Damien Daemon, "To cautious. He has seen a lot, and knows to never let his guard down, even amongst allies, especially with such a devastating Force Essence..." His voice tapered off, obviously lost in thought about the men they surrounded themselves with.

Some how, he was able to retain the cognizance of a warrior when the time required it. It had not occurred to him that the man he spoke to may not reply, and if he did that it could be with minor words. It would seem that the speech was also calculation as he attempted to analyze everyone present.

[member="Sirak Kolar"]

 

[Sirak Kolar]

Ebon rolled his shoulders as the ghost carried on, caring little for the words he spoke, but listening anyway. Although some of the points he brought up were reasonable, and some very true, Ebon cared little for drivel of casual gossip, and instead simply nodded. It wasn't his place to lay a foundation on any of the members present, and an even worse idea to make an assumption without seeing who any of them really were.

Ebon waited for him to finish before offering a slow retort, "And what of me?", he offered, raising a brow to the ghost next to him.

[member="Asher"]

 

[Enoch Zambrano]

When the call came, Enoch felt it in his gut. The summons of the Host Lord was not something one could easily ignore. The Riftwalker was on Ziost, the planet he was struggling for control over. Naga Ite'sak, no doubt the man would be there, had grown to be someone Enoch hated passionately. So, he had begun using Sargon against his fellow Riftseeker. Enoch was in the middle of converting a large group of people from Adasta'kun to his 'religion.' Enoch didn't really believe much of what the Host Lord and Black Prophet spit from their mouths, but he knew the power that came with their positions, and he craved it.

"My fellow Sith, let the light of Nogras shine upon you! Feel the power of Balagoth surge through your veins, for his zealotry will weed out the week and the heathenish! Halrormalenth did not mold you to sit idly by and watch as false gods take over the galaxy!" A large cheer went up through the crowd. Good, it was working. Enoch felt a buzz on his hip; his holocomm. But he knew what the message was, and knew it was time for him to take his leave.

"I can feel the Host Lord's summons! But, my brethren, I leave you with this; will you let lies be spread, or will you embrace Sargon as your almighty King?" Another round of cheers. Some people, however, weren't buying it. They stood near the back of the group, whispering secrets, and plans to overthrow the cult leader who called himself Sith'ari. Enoch hopped down from the boulder he stood upon, eying them as he did so. They will pay, in time. As he headed for his ship, Enoch pulled out the holocomm, listening to a recorded message. He was right, the Host Lord had called him. Enoch wasted no time hopping into his small fighter, and blasting off towards Dantooine.

His ship landed on the planet with a soft hiss, as shocks absorbed the light impact that came from the land. Enoch hopped out of the cockpit, the knee-length flaps of his jerkin flapping lightly in the wind. As he walked towards the meeting destination, his pale hands pulled a think black hood over his head. No need to risk any non-Riftseekers seeing his face. Once he saw the group, Enoch pushed back the hood, his hair becoming messier in the process.

"Host Lord, you rang? Uncle." Enoch address Anja first, giving a slight nod to his Great Uncle after doing so.

[member="Anja Aj'Rou"] | [member="Thais Kallisto"] | [member="Damien Daemon"] | [member="Zambrano the Hutt"] | [member="Ebon"] | [member="Asher"] | [member="Naga Itesak"]

 

[Matreya]

Asher raised a brow, though such slight motion would likely go unnoticed by the random viewer, "I cannot sense a great deal from you. Either your destructively powerful and hiding it, or youre new to the scene like myself. Yet, I get this feeling in my gut that you are one that has potential to be more than some here. The Force tells me to avoid your bad side." He muttered, eyeing the crimson toned man. With a chuckle he continued, "Though me being on anyone's good side is hard to accomplish, for some reason people tend to hate me!"

[member="Ebon"]

 

[Sirak Kolar]

"A curious observation.", he offers, his mind quietly wandering back to the subject at hand. Half his attention was given to the mad ramblings of the childish ghost, while the other half focused entirely on what the Host Lord expected of all those present. What was it that Ebon was expected to do, and in what was asked of him, would he be able to hold up to the challenge? Of course he would... His racial pride demanded it, and he refused to be the first Zabrakian to fail.

He offered a soft growl at the conflicting thoughts in his head, and for a moment he offered an awful menace, bearing his sharpened and yellow teeth. He was tired of waiting, but being outspoken about his impatience at a time like this was hardly an appropriate move, and instead he kept his mouth shut. There would be a day he could offer his opinion more openly, but today was not that day. He quietly waited to see if the ghost spoke any more trivialities to pass the time, but he offered no counter point or topic of discussion.

[member="Asher"]

 

[Boethiah]

More gathered to this place of moot, Anja returned greetings to those who appeared. First [member="Damien Daemon"], "a familiar face is always a welcomed sight," she nodded to the man who had served with her many times before, many worlds ago. Then there was [member="Ebon"] whom she only regarded with a quick glance, as he spoke with the stranger she had never met before. Finally there was [member="Enoch Zambrano"], a proud man who always stood tall no matter what. She could see that he was Vornskr's son, no less.

Him addressing [member="Zambrano the Hutt"] as 'uncle' was just as unsettling as ever before, she could only begin to wonder how their family relationship even worked out in the first place. Yet their family name was nearly synonymous with mystery at this point. Certainly if others revealed themselves they'd do so in time, but for now Anja felt it was time to begin.

"You have all been summoned here, a ripple in the galaxy has revealed itself... The time to act is now," she walked to the center of the grove, her hand reached out and began to summon magicks. The palm of her hand glowed in dark colours, some of which unfathomably vibrant and with cruel scents in the force. As the lance of energy pierced the soil below, a small fountain of black liquid formed, the shattered stone surrounding the ruin cracked in a spiral. "Drink from the well, become connected with the Gods and their spirits." Her voice became softer as she stepped back.

Within the well lied the force in its purest form, drinking it would grant one sudden--yet brief--insight into future events, seeing what she too had saw in her dreams the night before. The time for conquest was nigh, and only together would they succeed in bringing the truth to the blind.

 

[Matreya]

Without moving, Damien reached into the Force, and channelled a thin current of the liquid through the air. As if sucked through a straw, it reached Damien's mouth, where he ingested a large quantity. Once finished, it withdrew back slowly to the well as if never having moved to begin with.

He turned to the Andolith and his companion whom moved towards the well, "Don't." With one word, the absolute control over the two he possessed shown through. Both ceased their approach and returned to his side, neither appearing concerned with being shot down in an event that pertained to them as well.

"Your time will come." He murmured to them, as he folded his arms, tilted his head back and stared towards the sky that became more and more dark, yet twinkled with the light of a thousand stars.

[member="Anja Aj'Rou"]