Private Something is Killing the Children

[Auteme]

"It came at night," the boy said. "We were playing in the- the ditch, the old one that's halfway to the next mountain. We thought we would be okay because the big sensors -- they see the grass-prowlers even at night. But it just-" tears welled up in the little Gran's eyes. "It- it killed them. I couldn't see it. It was all black. I just saw it- it ran like a spider, and- I just saw Zhoss'- his heart pulled out by it. And then it got its claws in Klo, and I just- I closed my eyes and ran."

"Ssshh, shh. It's okay." Ommals' mother hugged him tight.

"I didn't see it," he wept, "I didn't see them as they died. I didn't see them. They're- they're- lost. It's all my fault. I shouldn't have taken them."

Auteme put a calming hand on the boy's shoulder, but it was his mother who did the real work, crying with him, letting him feel it out. "It's not your fault, it's not your fault. We're okay. We're okay."

After a few minutes she felt it release a little, the boy becoming quiet. "Thank you for sharing that with me. Your mother's right -- it's not your fault." Part of her wanted to say more, but she imagined her own son coming to her like this, and knew there would be no replacement. "Thank you, Ommals. Nos."

Nos nodded, but didn't move; Auteme showed herself the exit.

Their home was typical for a Gran colony, adapted slightly to the slope of the mogote it was built into. The steep hill had three 'peaks', rounded lumps facing east, to which the more devout Doellinists found auspicious, and set it as the site of their village. They let the gamwidge eat the native grasses underneath, growing the crops in the hill's view, while their round homes dotted the southern side of the mount. From here, she could see, barely, the ditch Ommals spoke of -- three klicks away, marking the edge of the Gran's crops, and halfway to another mogote, the closest one in any direction, though dozens rose across the vast fields. The ditch where two of the village's children were found dead, one gutted like a fish, the other's head tossed to a nearby field, both missing their hearts.

Most Gran considered themselves crops to Doellin; to be incomplete, to sicken oneself, was an insult to their god. To be killed and deliberately mutilated, missing their heart -- the children's parents had been incensed, sorrowful; their cries continued even now.

Even as the community rallied together for its defense, they found themselves haunted at every turn. Two more children had disappeared, though no grisly remains could be found. The monster came and went without rhyme or reason. The tracks the hunters found ran them in circles. One night they found a gamwidge devoured, the next a gamwidge butchered, slashed cleanly at every spinal joint. Outhouses and equipment were destroyed, or left perfectly fine, save a spray of inky liquid thick like blood.

Her years in the Core had made her familiar with the monsters of civilization; here, at the fringes, things still lurked in the dark. No one other than Ommals had encountered the creature -- but, in her mind, his brief description confirmed it. This creature was not natural; it was the work of the Dark, intentional or no. It moved with a madness beyond that of an animal.

Pallisk, the boy's father, was walking up the steps to his home as Auteme descended the mount, slugthrower over his shoulder -- unused this night, perhaps thankfully. "Is he well?"

"Healing, I'd say. It'll be a long journey."

A nod. "And you? Can you helps us?"

A nod. "I'll do what I can."

"That's not what I want to hear, Jedi," he admitted, "but between the two of you, I hope you'll kill this thing."

"The two of us?"

Capris Halcyon ​

 

[Capris Halcyon]

As a governing rule, Capris worked alone.

A bit melodramatic sure, but reasonably effective in yielding the results she wanted—Obscurity, freedom, and not a lick of need for compromise.

A perfect, sacred trinity.

"You mean to tell me someone's here already?"

Capris blinked. Once, twice, thrice at the Gran who'd just unwittingly informed her the lone wolf gimmick would have to be tabled.

She made no efforts to conceal a frown.

As another governing rule, Capris rarely made house visits like this. Lately every four walls with a roof she'd stepped foot in felt cagey— to the point she'd taken to sleeping outside. Loam and topsoil below and a lonely existential abyss above. But unfounded anxiety aside, this case called for a morsel's worth of additional investment on her part. Most Sith spawn she'd encounter, while reliably brutal, didn't dissect hearts like collectible figurines. This was a unique, clinical evil that deserved a unique, clinical approach.

"Uh yes?" The Gran, a little put off by her reaction, hesitantly raised a finger to somewhere behind her, "A Jedi I think. She was just with Pallisk and Ommal's kid."

"A Jedi?" There was now a prominent V in her brow. "That's…great.”

Her shoulders sagged— whistling a sigh out of her like a deflated balloon. Having neglected most human interaction for the last two years with the devotion of a monk, she was not a shining example of tact and grace.

The woman she'd just spotted leaving a home freshly radiating hope however was by definition both of those things in abundance.

Is that? Oh feth my life…

Capris let her heart slug a moment, gouged by the sudden reminder of Kyric. What would've remained speculation, firmed into an awkward verification by the virtue of her other half. Capris knew this woman, cared about this woman, and would in all likelihood kill for this woman despite having literally zero reason to.

There was still the chance to scurry away like a gutter rat she supposed. Refusing to acknowledge the damning probability the Force led her here for a reason. This reason. Instead she swallowed, turned, and fixed her face into what she hoped came across as passive neutrality.

She was dressed plain and practical. A poncho cinched on the left, so the absence of her arm was marginally less of a curiosity. It conveniently doubled as a cover for her tattoos as well, a series of runes which faintly pulsed a dark Force imbued energy.

Capris waited for the woman to approach her, knowing damn well she couldn't make herself take the same initiative.

"Going out on a limb, I'm assuming you're the Jedi?"

There were no limbs to go out on. Capris was irrevocably fucked.

Auteme

Honorable mention Kyric

 

[Auteme]

"Who is she?" she asked Pallisk, but the man just shrugged.

"Some kind of monster-hunter."

"Mm," but that wasn't what she was looking for. She was looking for the familiarity she felt -- this girl looked like years on the run, like she didn't just sleep but dreamt in the dirt. Auteme had a good memory, shy of eidetic; she couldn't place that face in a million years.

It seemed she was familiar to the girl, too, but that wasn't a surprise; most kids her age -- the ones with access to the Holonet -- probably recognized her, but nobody really expected a former Chancellor to be walking the Rim, so very rarely was she troubled by it. What she was troubled by was the fact that the girl was trying to hide it.

"Ha, what gave me away?" She smiled. They were probably the only off-worlders to visit in the past year, maybe two. More importantly, though, Auteme had never been especially adept at hiding her presence.

Presence. The girl had a darkness about her -- in her body, ingrained, like a suit of armor; like a scar, worse than the one that crossed her face. But it had a light, too; a darkness where she was safe, a night when the last lights went out and the stars were the only thing in the sky.

As they knew, the night hid things.

"We'll leave you to it. Let us know if you need us." Pallisk beckoned his colleague, the hunter who'd presumably briefed the girl.

"Thank you," a wave, then to her, "I like your poncho." Auteme's own was an olive green, flowed like water as she approached.

She stopped, by the fence -- the gamwidge grazed quietly in the mogote's shade, though notably kept close to the rock. They'd cleared the carcasses already, but death was in the air.

"Pallisk told me you're a hunter -- you must be good, doing it down an arm." A slight smile, but not too probing. "And short on weapons." The same, of course, could be said for Auteme, who was completely unarmed.