Private The Demons and Dealings of Dathomir

[Vytal Noctura]

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"Good, Sister. You have obtained control of the power within. Now you can begin to channel it. To grow it." Vytal Noctura did not smile, but the lift of the chin and relaxed tone of voice amounted for much the same. A small gathering of women of all ages stood atop a rocky outcropping; each sought to become stronger in their use of ichor and their magick. An opportunity to train and encourage others fearless of exploring their power reminded her of a time long ago; and more importantly brought a sense of relief and pride at being able to bring back what she'd learned to her fellow Sisters as she'd always dreamed.

They were away from others not to hide their training, or because of the danger inherent to exploring such power, but to avoid distractions. Much as how they'd had a ritual Hall back on Ryloth -- not out of shame for what they did there, but so others did not ignorantly intrude. Certain rituals were dangerous to the caster and the world if interrupted at the wrong time. And there were people that thought the powers Nightsisters used were "evil" because it seemed similar to the "Dark Side" of the Force -- people whose zealotry might blind them from the danger of interrupting their incantations.

Thankfully, on Dathomir there were very few zealots fearful of the Dark Side's influence. Instead there was another faction, which Vytal had to be mindful of, and just that of the very young foolishly exploring what they were not yet meant to know. Having once been one of those young fools, she was well aware of the need for secrecy in advanced arts.

While the galaxy spun and was set ablaze, those on Dathomir showed little interest or sign of awareness at those goings on. The galaxy left them alone, and they left the galaxy alone. It was a time-honored tradition. Which left them all a great deal of time to study their magicks and hone their bodies against the challenges their world brought to bear every day. Time enough that lessons need not be rushed.

As Vytal thought to guide them in the next step in their exploration, however, her pale features sharpened. Her head whipped aside and her emerald green eyes stared back in the direction of the heart of the Sanctum Inferis Arce. It was a mountainous fortress meant to provide shelter and training to all Sisters that would come. They could stay as long as they liked and take knowledge back to their own covens or clans. It was a place of learning -- the sort of institution Vytal had championed long ago for outsiders not to fear their kind, and now it was there for her fellow Sisters not to revile one another. And it was the sort of place that might be tempting...

"Khylen, take over." Vytal didn't say any more before a burst of green flame enveloped their instructor.

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"...all you need do is accept my hand, Little One," a woman's silken voice, warm and soothing to the ear invited as her hand reached out toward the adolescent woman. The broad smile and promise to her eyes begged for acceptance. For potential. Those plump lips, pink and vibrant compared to the light magenta-blue of her skin parted ever so slightly as the pale thing's hand started to rise. "That's right. Everything you ever wanted." For a... modest fee.

"Gah!" the owned hissed as her hand was suddenly thrown aside by an invisible force. Not from pain, but strattlement. So close!

Vytal stood where the young Nightsister had been a moment ago, a ball of green flame suspended over her open palm. The youth had swiftly glided off to the side back to a small gathering of others her age. Friends that had been gawking at the allure and audacity of the thought of accepting the offer. "You will find no deals on Dathomir, Whore of Gehenna." Her other hand snapped open and a second ball of flame appeared along with streamers that raced up the lengths of her arms. Black lips pulled back in a silent snarl as she stood before the woman of towering horns.

When this was all over, Vytal made a mental note to reaffirm the lesson about making deals with spirits. Notably the part about the consequences of such deals, and how nothing was as it seemed. The wording was both absolute and damning, but also often left entirely up to interpretation by the dominating party (which was often the spirit).

 

[Vritra]

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Everything had been going so well too. The young and the desperate were open to temptation, and full of desire. Leave it to the old, withered prune to appear and ruin the moment. Vritra drew in a calming breath from having her hand batted aside. She rolled her hand over as she drew it up for inspection to ensure the odious creature hadn't chipped one of her long, sharp nails.

"Well, well, if it isn't the Usurper herself. In the flesh." Vritra's red rings slid down the length of Vytal's form. "Paltry and plain as it is." To reinforce the statement she reached up and caressed the length of a towering horn from her crown with the back of her finger. The tail that idly swayed behind was another characteristic of note. In fact, she had many, but some these insignificant creatures weren't worth bearing witness.

"Come to ruin the fun, as always, Vytal? You'd think lowering yourself to," Vritra's eyes took in the crowd with another flick of her wrist, "this would be bad enough. To see you still haven't learned to live life a little pains me. I mean, look at this." Her eyes lifted to scan the tops of the walls, the carved out windows in the mountain side, the roaring flames for an evening meal. "I might have mistaken it for a camp of hungry demons, forlorn at being neglected by their master. So homely and small."

A snort followed suit as Vytal failed to rise to her barbs. Boring as ever, it would seem. "We both know you aren't going to fight me, so stop looking so serious and let's... haggle." The tip of a pink tongue slowly ran along her lips; a neat set of fangs peeked out from behind her lips. If they fought here and now it was quite likely everyone would be dead, and neither of them would have managed to land more than a scratch on one another. There was a reason both of them were still alive for this delightful encounter.

"A wager. You do remember how to do a wager, don't you? For the souls of everyone of Dathomir."

 

[Vytal Noctura]

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Vytal's eyes glowed under a dark brow at the foul creature that dared to set foot on Dathomir. "Instead of a wager, I offer an ultimatum. Set foot on the planet again -- threaten or imperil its people again -- and there will be no corner of the Nether you can crawl into where I won't find you." There was no chance a wager was being struck. Nothing Vritra would offer would appeal to Vytal except for her to be gone; and for that blessed peace, she was prepared to handle personally rather than humor her esoteric form of entertainment.

"Sisters!" The fire vanished from her palms as she held her hands out to either side. "Convoke."

They had stood in watch of the wary interaction between the two. Not because the other looked a creature of the Otherworld, but because their power and purpose were both unknown to the gathering. With Vytal on point, they bid their time to learn about the Outsider among them. Nightsisters were nothing if not patient. They struck when the time was right, and knowing where their victim was weakest.

When Vytal called to them, the pale women wrapped in many dark hues began to clasp one another's hands. Not all of them knew the technique, but from what Noctura told them understanding was not necessary to join in a Circle -- only in leading one. It was a means of increasing their collective power. If what this Vritra said was true then they would need that.

 

[Vritra]

Vritra's lips peeled back in a silent snarl at Vytal's defiance. A pact would have given the woman everything she wanted, if she won the wager. It could have barred Vritra from Dathomir to whatever extent she wished. Instead, she chose to scorn the very idea in favor of open conflict. It left Vritra free to do whatever she will, to whomever she would. And the woman knew, but thought her threat alone would keep her in line.

Of course, a pact likely wouldn't have bound any of the Others in Gehenna. Which Vytal was well aware of, but Vritra would never acknowledge. The woman had been a nuisance for many reasons. Her insistence on precise wording and lengthy negotiations had been one of them. A consequence of that freak that'd tried to pose as one of Dathomir's inconsequential deities in her life. Vritra at times thought of resurrecting them just to kill them herself for the trouble they'd left the Nether with.

"I look forward to you living long enough to watch everything you care for burn before your eyes, Nethermother. Queen of the Damned. I'll remind you of this moment -- the last chance before Gehenna fell upon you all." A hand slashed through the air at waist height to punctuate the statement. Vritra's chin lifted while her red eyes looked upon those gathered.

A flailing wave of black tendrils erupted from the ground at Vritra's feet. They spun wildly about the light magneta-blue woman's body before they snapped shut about her and plunged back into the ground.