Faction The Gathering of the Dead | CIS Social

There are many names from many cultures throughout the galaxy where the Living reflect on those or that which was lost, take stock of that which they have kept, and are reminded of what may be yet to come. An opportunity to reflect and to grieve, but more importantly to celebrate and to remember. The galaxy is full of distractions and pressing demands leaving little time to step back and acknowledge that which is truly important -- not credit chits, political maneuverings, and revenge, but friends, family, and one's own place in the greater cosmos.

The Solanaceae are hosting this year's celebration on Ryloth on the ground surrounding Vureshakkairn Castle, and all are welcome to attend. As a time and place for solemn and celebratory festivities violence will not be tolerated; the Witches will gladly teleport you to a holding facility to be left until the gathering has ended. Those that embrace or at least respect one another will have free reign over the many opportunities created in the shadow of the Castle.

Walk, fly, or teleport in and begin exploring all that the planetary and galactic community has to offer. Meet old and new people alike, and see that while much may be lost that there remains much more yet to be found.

Shrines have been set up along the walkway circling the chasm in which the flowing river falls. Guests are welcome to set up their own shrines with offerings for the departed, and incense to carry your voice into the Nether. Sat so near the base of operations for the Solanaceae now is perhaps the surest opportunity for the dead to hear your voice.

Crafting short humorous and often sarcastic poems or epitaphs to taunt the living, and decorated skulls made of sugar are only two of a variety of activities available on the green. There is no shortage of food and drink for thirsty and famished participants. Many opportunities for socialization, and most importantly to keep the young ones from becoming too restless.

If you have a had for makeup and costume, you will find no shortage in the number assembling to mark the dead, or perhaps acknowledge how few differences there are between sentients -- after all, in the end we're all skeletons. Many talented artisans and clothiers are present to help those without an opportunity to hone such skills themselves.

While the Parade of the Dead reflects on the Living, the Parade of the Unseen peers into the dreams, nightmares, and expectations of what lays Beyond. Creatures fashioned of every make, often piece-mealed together from many living creatures, are paraded about; their gargantuan sizes tower over the crowds free to marvel at the craftsmanship put into them. Even a hobbiest with a budding desire to participate is welcome to construct their creature, however. Today is a day of coming together, and not one for competition.

For those souls brave enough or desperate enough, the woods that surround the Castle are open to you. The immediate surround's magick has been altered to afford you a chance to walk until you find someone or something that you've lost. An opportunity to converse or to confront a desperate desire. Have no fear, you will not become lost no matter how long you must walk to find that which you seek -- turn back toward the Castle and you will find yourself on the open green once more as though it were only ever a few feet away.

Template By: Darth Metus (Guy)

Shamira Karuto · Oct 25, 2020

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E X P L O R E

Location: Vureshakkairn Castle, Rodia
Objective: The Festival
Wearing: All Hallows Eve makeup and dress.
Tags: | Effie |

Alluria Ivalice |

Vytal Noctura |

Julra Repraj |

Shalita Verd | Willow |

Everything had changed after the attacks.

The terrorist attacks against her home, leaving so many of her sisters dead or dying, had sapped much of the happiness or joy out of what was once a peppy, enjoyable to be around young witch. Shamira felt as though the cloud of death constantly hung around her head, and any joy that a normal day of studying plants might bring her brought none. Instead, she spent most of her days since then in the gardens, quietly tending to the plants or grabbing something to eat before holing up once again in her room.

Vytal had tried to lure her out of her darkness for a while now. Trips to the nether, chances to go find new plants, enticing adventures that Shamira might’ve jumped on in moments had she not been seeing the ghosts of her dead sisters all around her. Each time, Shamira shrugged the woman off, quietly thanking her for attempting to include her, and went right about the same cycle that continued to drag her further and further down into the darkness. Not even the days after her parents were lynched felt as cold and empty as the times after the attacks.

It took quite a bit of coaxing from both her nightmother alongside her other sisters, but eventually Shamira agreed to join with them in the celebrations of day of the dead. Somethings about exercising the demons that surrounded her mind, letting go of those lost, but she didn’t care much about those things. She just wanted them to leave her alone for a little bit longer, and if joining in this celebration would do it, then perhaps it was worth it.

Now she stood at the front of the castle, swaying back and forth with the hem of her dress as she awaited the rest of the witches to walk down to the festival with. Kark believe it if she was going to be the first down to a celebration she didn’t even feel like going too. There would be way too many reminders of those that had fallen, meaning the night was already destined to be unhappy. Still, maybe spending some time with her sisters would counteract that. Anything could happen on days like these.

Sarge Potteiger · Oct 25, 2020

That Which was Lost

Hounded by ghosts and driven to find answers, the siren song of another mystery called to him from Ryloth. A man of many hats, he'd been - in his time - a rebel, an assassin, a terrorist, a mercenary, a bodyguard, a Jedi, a Head of State, and now a caretaker. No longer did the smell of citrus take him to a far away tangle of auburn hair, nestled just beneath his lips. Now it was the smell of his house, and of a dusty office filled with ancient texts.

He could still feel the scrape of the datapad case as it left his hand, the letter of resignation etched onto the glowing screen in impersonal letters. Letters at odds with the sorrow he had felt, and the horrible certainty that he was about to perform a suicide mission. A suicide undertaken willfully, to both save the galaxy and himself. Night terrors still haunted him.

They were indistinct, hazy things. Flapping, membranous wings. Distant screeching. Howling blasterfire, fading as the soldiers were pulled beneath the murky waters of the Dagobah swamps. A gray sky on fire, his racing heart, and the tangle of roots under which he'd hidden from fate, eyes and nose the only things above the water.

And when he awoke, sweat-stained and trembling, he was no closer to what he'd lost than he'd been decades before. It was the one thing not even auburn hair and citrus could provide him.

Home.

His earliest memory was of Mon Calamari, and of a floating city. With him, a burly woman with a throaty brogue and a bombshell beauty with a child's sense of mischief. Three friends, a strange world. Both were now confined to his memory, several hundred years dead. But with the lapping of water like an echo in his ear, he stepped away from the Castle and into the woods. A familiar sense of purpose filled him, and a pressure built on his shoulders as if the woods themselves welcomed him. It felt like an old friend welcoming you to a party long since slowed, but kept going in the hope that you would show before it was time to turn it in.

Pain edged the bottoms of his eyes. He swallowed a suddenly dry tongue. A feeling he'd not known in years.

Anxiety.

Kyyrk · Oct 26, 2020

THAT WHICH WAS LOST

Voph stood on the edge of the forest. The castle was behind him, the vast unknown before him. Though the sounds of laughter and merriment sounded from the castle, Voph struggled to find any form of joy. A celebration of the dead meant little to those who stood among the ashes of those they were asked to protect. Some from Vylmira gathered for the first time since the Cataclysm had torn their planet asunder, holding a small ceremony to commemorate the dead. But Voph was called to a different path.

The armored titan stood at the edge of the forest, still clad in the promise he had made to his people. He did not know why, but he knew that beyond the treeline, there was something he was meant to witness. Voph took one final look around him, as if looking to see if he would be followed. Or perhaps he was looking for someone. Voph sighed quietly, then turned back to the trees before him. If he was to be followed or not, it was the will of the Force now. Voph took one final step in the light of day, and vanished into the trees beyond the castle....

Tags: None Yet...

Andromeda Malvern · Oct 26, 2020

L O C A T I O N | The Road to Vureshakkairn Castle

W E A R I N G | Dress - [X] Mask - [X] Hair Piece - [X]

O B J E C T I V E | A Mixture of Everything!

T A G S |

Varn Barakis

First Voss, and now Ryloth.

Whether intentionally or not, since leaving the care of her father and brother, Andromeda had found herself drawn to planets with sorrow melded into its roots. Much like Voss, Ryloth had seen battle. Ryloth had witnessed destruction beyond words and loss beyond comparison. The scars of which would never truly heal.

Vureshakkairn Castle seemed to Andromeda the most fitting place to hold a festival such as this one. The masterfully crafted architecture seemed, ironically, more alive with the gaudy and colourful décor. Columns and arches alike were heaving with bright rainbow hues that tempted the eye every which way. Death was not honoured like this back home, aboard The King’s Collar, or whatever backwater planet they would settle on for a while. Andromeda found herself rather appreciating the Solanaceae’s approach to it. A celebration of a life well-led, rather than mourning what had been lost.

Now that she thought about it, the latter seemed rather selfish. How humanlike it was to think only of yourself when your loved ones had passed. How ironic that they worried about their own loneliness and fretted over their own mortality in a time of their loved one’s greatest need.

As she paced slowly over the mismatched cobblestones, toward the gleaming castle ahead, Andromeda made a promise to herself. Today would not be about her. Today would be about them. About the parents she had never met. About the brother she had abandoned. About the Father she would never see again. No matter what she thought or felt, no matter how they had affected her future or her past. This day was for them. To honour them. To remember.

She had a short while before

Varn Barakis joined her, so Andromeda came to a halt in front of one of the hundreds of shrines littering the path to the castle. There were shrines of pure obsidian stone, shrines of cracked, blue-veined marble, shrines made from the very mountains themselves, and Andromeda could have sworn she saw a shrine made entirely out of shadow, but neither of these called to her. Instead, she found herself drawn to a simpler type. It was made of twisted branches of dark wood, with a few leaves of shocking orange that melted into cool yellows dotted sparsely across them. Andromeda knelt in front of it.

Not willing to risk lighting a candle, she did the only thing she could think to do. Her hands stretched out, elegant fingers dancing nimbly toward the mass of branches. At first, nothing seemed to happen. The branches remained just as bare as when she had knelt, but it was not long before the first inkling of power was displayed. In the form of tiny bright green buds that burst forth from the cracks in the bark. They grew, and grew, and grew. Until they splayed open like the skirt of an erratic dancer, displaying their bold new colours, but Andromeda did not stop there.

They continued until the spring green shifted to a deep forest green. Until the deep forest green began to fade into vibrant yellows, fiery reds and warm oranges. When she was finished, the wreath was packed with leaves. So much so that the foundation of the shrine, the darkened branches that had originally attracted her, were entirely invisible.

She allowed herself a small smile. This was the most fitting tribute she could summon for the lives led by her lost loved ones. A small part of her, just for them, and the perfect place to reflect and meditate whilst she patiently waited on her master’s arrival.

Varn Barakis · Oct 26, 2020

Location: The road to Vureshakkairn Castle
Tags: Andromeda Malvern
Objective: Honor the Dead

Darkness consumed him.

It pressed in from all sides, painting Varn Barakis' world in shades of black and grey and little else. In the distance, the Knight could just about make out the light of Vureshakkairn Castle. A shining beacon, it was a point on which Varn could focus as he walked, his boots loud on the cobbles beneath his feet, each step bringing him closer to his destination. Every now and then it would disappear behind the trees lining the route. Yet, like a loyal friend, it always returned, leaving the Jedi awe-inspired by what he saw.

For a time, it occupied his thoughts, the sights and sounds of distant revelry holding back the sombre memories niggling at the back of his mind. Like all good things, it came to an end far too soon, leaving the knight feeling hollow, and so very much alone.

But I am not alone. Not tonight.

Standing straighter, the Jedi lengthened his stride. Yes, he walked the path alone, but that did not mean he was alone. Even now, still far from the castle's walls, he could feel their presence. He looked to his right, then, to his left. Though he saw naught but darkness, he knew that spirits stirred there, dancing in the dark recesses, living a life lost to them. Some were familiar, others less so, yet they all accompanied him like they would kin-- with a sense of pride and honor that left the Knight with a lump in his throat.

How many ghosts would he meet tonight, here in this place? Would they find it in themselves to forgive his failings? Or would they choose to haunt his memories for the rest of his days?

Was he even deserving of their forgiveness? He hoped so. Peace was becoming something of a rarity to the Zabrak.

He shook his head, banishing the thoughts within. Soon enough he would meet his padawan; now was not the time for grief, he told himself. He would not go to her with a dour expression upon his face and a heaviness weighing down his hearts. After all, tonight was a time of celebration. A chance to relive the golden days with those who'd passed on-- and those like-minded individuals who remained.

Up ahead, a shrine came into view. A figure knelt at its base, her slight frame outlined by the warm glow of a half-dozen lit candles placed off to the side. The light they cast revealed a sight that Varn would no doubt commit to memory. Indeed, he made a point to as he approached the kneeling figure, doing little in the way to hide his presence.

"Look like you're waiting for someone." He said, coming to stand over his padawan, a small smile twisting his features. His eyes bore into the shrine as it shifted shape before him, giving birth to a plethora of colours. The meaning of Andromeda Malvern's work was not lost on him. "Then again, maybe I am mistaken." Going to one knee beside the young woman, Varn grimaced at the sudden pain he felt in his left leg. Despite this, he could not help but nod at what he saw.

"It's beautiful."

Mig Gred · Oct 26, 2020

Usually for something like this, Mig would be honoring those who'd passed. From his clan, the refugees. Everyone really. But when Mig had his young daughter, Leddie, with him.... He'd explained passing to her, but today wasn't the day for another lesson. Today was a day for her to have some fun. Especially after all the training she'd been doing, from weapons training to learning to play her Bes'bev (though that was more fun for her). He just wanted her to still be able to be a kid. So he was here to let her stretch her legs and have some fun. The girl already had a lollypop in her mouth, and kept pointing out all sorts of games and activities.

He smiled as he watched her decorate a candy skull, smiling from ear to ear. It made Mig smile under his helmet.

"Look Jagyc'buir! Look!" He smiled at the little Zabrak, patting her head.

"That looks great Ledd'ika. Just keep it away from Sweets. He'd eat that in a heartbeat." Leddie giggled as the Mando looked at the pendent he'd brought in case he had wanted to teach Leddie a little more about life and death. Another time.

Abel Denko · Oct 26, 2020

F E S T I V A L

Tag:

Fauvel Astier

Unease.

When it came to the Solanaceae and their magickal traditions, Abel was perfectly content to keep them at arm's length. They were valuable comrades and kindred Obsidian, yes. However, the aftermath of the Calamity had left a sour taste in his mouth. The chapter claimed that they had the means to contain the weapon that had decimated their order. Their liege, the Nightmother, claimed that it would be folly to destroy the device that had cost so many lives. They were confident in their magicks, their spirits, and their ethereal ways - so much so that they were willing to risk the remainder of the Knighthood's lives. The decision, ultimately, was not Abel's to make - and he kept his opinions on the matter to himself.

But, if it were up to him, a solid twelve feet of distance would be kept at all times.

However. There was the matter of his charge, Fauvel. The young woman had come under his wing in recent months and had proven herself a capable student in the Force. Though his way was set in stone, it was his responsibility as a mentor to expose her to the Knighthood as a whole. Bias, no matter how justified, was not honorable - nor would it be fair to deprive his apprentice of knowledge. So, despite how uneasy the celebration of the day made him, Abel brought Fauvel to the so-called Day of the Dead. Some of the attractions were far too...macabre...for his tastes. But the smell of rich confections was right up the Knight's ally. There were carnival games, fried foods, and edible takes on skeletons all about.

He'd pass on the sugar bones, but a fried pastry sounded good.

"Have you ever had carnival food?" he asked, wondering if the gilded world of Illyria ever dabbed in such mundane activities.

Shiraine Bennet · Oct 26, 2020

Wearing: XXX
Tags:

Fury of Aerðs | Open

After being a guest of the Ee'everwests for so many months, after sharing in disaster and grief with them, the time came to move on. She could only convalesce for so long, and wrestling with what was taken from her by circumstance wasn't her purpose. Though her purpose eluded her, and without the stability of that strong, stalwart presence, her friend most beloved of all... no path was a path she had imagined walking alone. Not to speak of prophecy, but she hadn't forseen the way her life had twisted and wound this handful of months. But tentative steps were taken, unaware until now was she of having taken them, but, when making her way into the graces of the Knights Obsidian, she resolved to make it her utmost priority to seek out the one somewhat familiar face she had encountered so, so far from Islimore. And here they were, attending a sort of festival together.

After being affected by tragedy of a smaller measure, after everything that had brought her to this realm of space, this part of the on-goings was preferable... yet she felt a coward, prioritising her sanity and health in electing to go here, when honouring the dead was still such a necessary thing. A persisting thing. She wouldn't really escape it, and even standing at the fringes of the festival, she could feel that fact well beyond this spot. Death and all of its entanglements were alive this night on Ryloth.

"This is quite different, isn't it?" Shiraine stated, arms held about her slim middle, her ever-present cane hanging off the crook of one elbow, "A welcome contrast to the sombre, worshipful ways of our own, don't you think?"

Violet eyes shifted sidelong to the darker woman alongside her. Balancing pleasant, willing conversation and the still-present urging in the pit of her stomach to just hole up and wallow in self pity was an uncomfortable act... but the features of Morrigan Vale were some small comfort; she was coloured somewhat similarly to Rayne, and it was surprising that such a simple thing had as profound an effect as it did. Her eyes widened imperceptibly, and she swallowed, delicately.

"I don't mean to say..." her mouth assumed a line for a moment, and her eyes turned forward; another beat, and she turned more than her gaze back to the feline-eyed woman, "...well, we're here now, and I'm grateful for your company, once again," at that she hooked a hand into the crook of Morri's elbow, "shall we?"

Yusha · Oct 27, 2020

F E S T I V A L

Tag: Lyra Vent + Open

What. The. Feth.

The question was on a ceaseless loop inside the King of Beggars' mind. He had seen many strange traditions since traveling to the Southern Systems. He had seen days set aside to memorialize the departed. He had seen days set aside to remember the sacrifices of particular groups or peoples. But this? This was an entirely new animal. What completely taken him aback was the fact that there were skulls made of sugar being sold. And people were buying them. And eating them. What. The. Feth. The event hosted by the Solanaceae had taken first prize in the strange department. Yet, Yusha had arrived to partake. In recent history, there had been few events where the pockets were loose.

So he would be a poor King if he did not strike while the iron was hot.

Now, unlike on most days, he did not come to the function alone. A chance meeting on Naboo, coupled with collaborating on Dorvalla, had landed a woman named Lyra a spot in Yusha's contacts. Prior to the event, he had reached out to see if she had any interest in attending with him - and thus they had arrived at the Festival together. To date, he had effectively concealed just how sticky his finger were to the woman. Yet the challenge of the evening would be how to keep up the facade while plying his craft. It was a good thing that challenges amused the King of Beggars. "Games. Prizes. Food." he remarked, taking in all the sights. "I'm at a loss as to where to begin. What do you think?"

He offered his dear friend a genuine smile and his arm. "Shall we?"

Damerous · Oct 27, 2020

That Which Was Lost...

With all that had happened...

Damerous sometimes woke up in the middle of the night, thinking it was all a nightmare, or a strange dream. An effect of living on the run for the past two years or so, deemed a traitor because of his parentage. Though if he was being honest with himself, he truly had no loyalty to the Empire. At least, not after what they had done to him.

A few days ago, during his meditations his attention had been drawn to this planet...the ancestral home of a race that in his day the Sith Empire, the Hutt Cartel, hell just about everyone but the Galactic Republic had enslaved. It appeared they were doing better now, some three thousand years into the future...

Now he stood before the place, the castle where everyone else seemed to be having quite the party. Some celebration of the dead as well as a festival of other sorts, or something along those lines he had been told when he’d landed earlier. But now, now there was the reason he felt called to this place. It eluded him for the moment...but all he knew is that this place...it had something to show him.

His mother had always told him to trust in the Force, even if he had no idea as to where it might lead him.

With that thought, he let out the breath he had been holding, threw the hood of his cloak up over his head, then strode into the forest to confront whatever he was meant to see...

Caedyn Arenais · Oct 27, 2020

Vureshakkairn Castle Grounds,
Ryloth

Eternal Rapture |

Shamira Karuto |

Sarge Potteiger |

Kyyrk | Andromeda Malvern |

Varn Barakis

Mig Gred |

Abel Denko | Shiraine Bennet | Yusha |

Damerous |

Asaraa Vaashe

Caedyn Arenais stood in silence as he watched the placid motions of the chasm waters reflecting the light from the shrines lining the path; The Jedi Knight had just recently been informed of his Mother's death, and with his Father's murder only two years prior, he was struggling to accept the suddenness of the loss.

Having been invited by the Confederacy of Independent Systems, there were several other colleagues of his from the Silver Jedi Concord present at the engagement held upon Ryloth, they of whom were likely to be pleased to be spending a day without having a long list of duties to be fulfilled, or an otherwise official assignment that required them to be present in anything of a professional capacity.

The Festival was providing their people with a means to visit and mingle with the citizenship of confederate space free of their official capacity and so Caedyn himself had almost jumped at the chance to share the same sector of space with his beloved

Asaraa Vaashe .

Unfortunately it was difficult to make the most of their time together in the shadow of such personal affairs, they were so rarely greeted with these opportunities and yet

NPC Treasury 's death was a loss that Caedyn was finding a tragedy more difficult to bare than that of his father.

The incense that hung in the air was a pleasing scent, almost comforting in some way. Caedyn wasn't the sort who used incense often at all and this particular aroma wasn't something he knew anything about, the affects that it supposedly held upon the link between the natural and the netherworld, yet the feeling that their surroundings carried hadn't necessarily given him any cause for concern.

No doubt there would be others far more experienced in this particular field, especially present within the Confederacies roster of skilled, noteworthy persons. From what the Jedi Knight understood of the CIS, there was a large variety of Force Users whom practiced all aspects of the Force; Not something that was Caedyn's place to judge least he be witness to a crime of some form.

Thankfully, he didn't see the remainder of the day to be going in any such direction, unable to find the will for the present time to want to be present in any official capacity other than to break away from the norm's of his life and to share in an experience far from anything he had previously known.

Andromeda Malvern · Oct 27, 2020

L O C A T I O N | The Road to Vureshakkairn Castle

O B J E C T I V E | A Mixture of Everything!

W E A R I N G | Dress - [X] Mask - [X] Hair Piece - [X]

T A G S |

Varn Barakis

Andromeda heard him coming before she felt him, and she felt him coming before she saw him. She was growing used to sound his foot made when he placed it on the ground, adapting to the way the force shifted around her when he grew close. She had a long way to go before she reached perfection yet. After all, there were many subtleties she could use to detect the presence of another before having to rely on her vision. That fact alone was just one of the thousands of things Varn had promised to teach her.

As he approached, she turned her head in his general direction and curled her red-tinted lips upward into a wide grin. She watched as the outline of his face traced the wreath of autumn leaves as if inspecting it.

It was not until he knelt beside her to comment on its beauty that Andromeda found she had been holding in her breath. She let it out in one gentle blow. “Thank you.” She replied, tilting her head as though she were able to see it from a new angle. “It’s for my family.” He could infer from that what he liked. There was no doubt he knew a good chunk of her history already, but Andromeda had not been the one to tell him. She had mostly kept it to herself, save for uttering a paired down version to the Master that had accepted her at the gates. Even he had lofted a brow when she had finally finished.

Andromeda could imagine that most Jedi would not take too kindly to the idea of a girl raised by criminal masterminds, or indeed a girl related to one of the better known sith in the galaxy. So, she kept it quiet and said nothing further as she stood up from the shrine.

Her deft fingers reached down to swat away the circles of dull brown dust left on her dress after kneeling. “Master Varn…” She began, in a tone that he would by now recognise as curious. The tone she used when the questions she had been brewing were finally ready to break free. “One of the padawans back at Silver Rest said the Solanaceae can bring spirits from the nether here.” Her eyebrows, just visible over the top of her golden mask, were furrowed in mild confusion and clear disbelief. “They said you could see the spirits walking and talk to them if you were lucky.”

Though her eyes were not visible, it was clear that her attention was solely on Varn as she finally asked her question. “Is that true?” There was no doubt to the lack of merit she put behind the words. The other padawans did like to tease her naïve nature from time to time, and Andromeda was not so foolish that she could not see it. Yet, that was not the true reason for her hesitation. If it were true, then they would be here.

Her real mother and father, and the brother she had betrayed. They would all be waiting for her out there, somewhere. Andromeda dared not risk it. She could not stomach the disappointment if it were a lie and she had allowed herself to believe otherwise. Hope had been a fickle thing all her life. Fluttering temptingly like the spark of a great fire. Too many times she had coaxed the flame to grow larger, only to be left with the same disappointing pile of ashes when the flickering heat had died.

She had learned the hard way that no matter what she did, fires always burned down into ashes in the end.

Kyyrk · Oct 27, 2020

THAT WHICH WAS LOST

Voph tread carefully between the trees. An unnatural stillness had gripped the air. As if time itself had abandoned him. He paused for a moment as he heard a branch snap. But the sound had come from in front of him, not behind him. He peered into the undergrowth, seeing that a path was appearing before him. What had once seemed an impassable thicket, a small tunnel now appeared. A hole in the writhing plant life. Voph paused for a moment, knowing that his attention had been drawn here for a reason. He stooped down, and began to move through the tunnel until the organic gave way to mineral.

When Voph stood to his full height, he was in a hall of stone. Twisted and Dark. He continued to walk forward, pausing only upon reaching a great door at the end of the hall. And in an instant, he recognized where he was. As he strode through the door, he found himself in the center of a mighty throne room. Surrounding him were six imposing structures, upon each seated a ghostly figure. Voph had seen such terrible architecture only once before.

The ancient Dread Palace of Oricon.

The six figures rose simultaneously. "Your crimes are many, and for them you must answer." Voph looked up at the figure who had spoken. Sith armor in all its glory stared back. Daring him to stand defiant. "The council shall decide your fate. Stand, and let your sins be judged."

The ghosts evaporated, and the path continued on, into a hallway that had not been present before. Voph drew a deep breath. He was about to test his resolve in a manner he was not sure he had ever endured....

Fauvel Astier · Oct 27, 2020

FESTIVAL
Tagging:

Abel Denko

The Illyrian Lady could not help but sport an amused smile on her lips.

If there was one thing she had learnt about her friend and Mentor these last few months, is that they shared a myriad of differences that nearly made them, in every sense, opposites. While Abel had grown in a life of struggle and found his nobility as an adult, she had been raised among the highest of all Lords and now saw her birthright threatened by disgrace, while he held to the Light, Fauvel was surrounded by darkness; and while he followed the less esoteric paths of the Force, magicks had been the ruling usage of it throughout her life and main calling.

And still, not for a second had she doubted or regretted her decision to be under Abel's tutelage.

Her mind seemed to be clearer under his guidance, her progress swifter and more controlled - something difficult to achieve given her heritage. The starweird did not take easy to the Force, even if she had been blessed with a strong connection to it. However, the smile was not long lived for soon she noticed he seemed to be slightly unsettled. Another of their differences was that while Fauvel felt at home in this particular surroundings, Abel seemed to feel out of place. And the Young Lady found herself empathizing with him.

She had joined the Knights Obsidian soon after the calamity that had cut their numbers so terribly short. While she had not known them yet, nor the ones who had lost their life to it, not even a heart of stone could fail to realize that the wound inflicted had been too deep. "I would not object to leaving early if you wish, Abel." Her voice, as usual, was so melodic many would call it eerie. It was indeed strange to see Fauvel preoccupy herself with the wishes of others, but it would appear her time spent with the man was softening the sharp edges she had developed to protect herself with.

Today, unlike most days, she was not donning one of her usual gowns. Instead, she had opted for an outfit that while a lot more comfortable was not any less Illyrian. A black, loose shirt of fine linen, made to hug her her waist by a dark red corset, dark pants and high boots. Also unlike usual, her hair was not held down by the adornments she needed to employ to weight it down, instead, it danced freely - floating behind her, unbothered by gravity.

"We have celebrations akin to this one in Blood Reign - but they are...more somber" She chuckled, knowing he would probably not enjoy them one bit. The religious celebrations of the Ashen Church took a strong stomach and eyes familiar to their grisly customs to bear through. As an adherent herself since her first day on the galaxy, there was little that could upset Fauvel. At least, while Blood Reign's dark scene was not everyone's cup of tea, they could rest assured that their practices brought no harm upon anyone. The same, according to some Knights Obsidian, could not be said of this part of the order. "Food is not a part of them." She stated, answering his question.

Fauvel chose for herself what seemed to be a pastry, an intricate skeleton decorating it. She was pleasantly surprised to find it was in fact, delicious. Trying new things was paying off. She was about to speak when a man appeared out of nowhere, visibly drunk, with a skull painted on his face and a large smile on his lips. Blubbering incomprehensively about something, he shoved two mugs filled to the brim into the hands of the two before getting lost among the crowd once again. Fauvel's rose gaze fell on Abel, questioningly, while holding the drink. It smelled sweet, it also smelled strongly of alcohol.

Varn Barakis · Oct 28, 2020

Location: The road to Vureshakkairn Castle
Tags: Andromeda Malvern

"I know." He had suspected as much when he'd first seen Andromeda kneeling before the shrine. Though he knew little of where she'd come from or who she called family, Varn knew enough as to not ask too many questions. Andromeda was entitled to her privacy; it was not his place to go digging, no matter how much he may have wanted to. Sinking down so that he rested on both knees, the Jedi brought his face closer to the shrine, reaching out a hand to touch the many coloured leaves. To say it was beautiful was a fair assessment.

A shame, then, that she'll never get to see it as I do.

Leaning back, the knight listened as his padawan began to speak, her voice as gentle as the breeze that set the surrounding trees to rustling. The wind plucked at his cloak, brushed his skin; cold as the grave, it brought the shrine to life before his very eyes, the amber-hued leaves dancing like flames in a hearth. The spirits' doing, Varn thought, unphased by the thought that they might be trying to communicate in some strange way. And perhaps they were at that, though, there remained the distinct possibility that he was overthinking it. Wouldn't be the first time. He shrugged.

When Andromeda asked her question, the knight was hesitant in his reply.

"Yes, I believe so." His answer came after much silent deliberation. "A Master on Kashyyyk told me as much before I left. To say I was skeptical would've been an understatement." He turned to look Andromeda in the eyes, only to find them hidden behind a mask. Why she did so was a mystery to him. For all he knew, it was some sort of religious garment. Yet, what kind of religion purposefully blinded its practitioners? A question Varn would see answered later, he decided. Hopefully soon.

"They say," he continued, turning back to the shrine, "that tonight is an opportunity for those who have lost loved ones to see them again. That -should you wish it- you may converse with their spirits. To what end? I do not know. Mayhaps to find some semblance of peace, to say the things you wish you'd said when you had the chance..." Varn let his words trail away. He could feel his eyes beginning to dampen. Blinking, he looked skyward to find a thousand stars blinking right back at him. He wondered why such a simple thing made him feel so calm.

"I'd advise... you set aside your doubts for tonight. Find those spirits you so seek, Andromeda, before it's too late. I'd hate for you to know regret as I do."

Xevnlie BrightScorch · Oct 28, 2020

Location: The Shrines at Vureshakkairn Castle's chasm
Tags: Anyone.

Being a newer member to the Order of the Knights Obsidian, Xevnlie had much to learn of the ways the Universe worked. Her mother, whilst not a user but a studier of her Force often said to her, "The Force works in mysterious ways. You could find yourself down a path you didn't think you wanted to be on, but it was one you NEEDED to be on to become your best self" Those words of comfort rung in her ears as her ship, an Ebon class ship, the Promise landed outside the vast area the castle took up. She wanted to see this for herself. She hadn't fought in the battle that took so many from them. From them all. Stepping out of her ship, her robes of golden and red swapped to a more respectful dark grey and black still in her trademark style, Xevnlie set off for the castle.

Whilst walking past multiple shrines dedicated to the lost and passed, Xevnlie almost halted for a moment. It had taken some convincing to herself to come. She hadn't fought in the way that the lost did. The ones who were as heroes in their own rights. Xevnlie thought herself not worthy to stand before shrines to them. But, she had come anyways. She feared that she would feel pain for not aiding them. Feel regret for not standing beside them to heal them or protect them when they needed it. And she was right. Taking in a couple of breaths, Xevnlie marched on. She knew she had to see it all here. To remember those who had passed.

Finding a shrine that was unoccupied, Xevnlie walked to it and knelt. She hadn't worn her mask since joining the order, at least, when she felt safe enough to do so, so all her able to see her in a form of meditation. Her hands were placed on her knees and her back straight. Xevnlie closed her eyes and started to mutter something under her breath. Before coming here, she had looked up the lost the Order had recently lost. To any who really listened in, they'd hear the names of the departed. At least, what she had read their names to be. Following every name were the words, "I'm sorry I couldn't save you." Xevnlie kept this up, the feeling of pain in her chest growing as she tried to hold her resolve. But it was fading fast.

Vytal Noctura · Oct 28, 2020

Tag:

Shamira Karuto | Open

"Shamira," Vytal's voice calmly announced as the pale woman drew close. The Nightmother offered to wrap an arm about the other woman's shoulders. "I'm glad you are here. Please, join us as we make our way to the green where the people celebrate life."

Yes, there was much loss one could reflect upon. Much grief. It was an opportunity to release such burdens; but it was as great an opportunity to recognize what one still had. Even if it was only that one rose the next morning -- it meant there was still time for things to change. Opportunities unrealized. Not that Vytal went around preaching people just needed to solider on blindly. It was a harsh world, but who could say what wonders would go unnoticed or deeds undone if a soul did not bear its burden until its appointed time? Life was short though it might seem long.

"We should visit the Parade of the Unseen later," Vytal continued as they made their way toward the crowd. "Perhaps you will find new ideas for creatures to fashion, or find surprising spirits etched in the minds of creators to draw inspiration."

It pained the Nightmother to know there were Witches like Shamira that had yet to recover from the attack on Ryloth. It was not because of some palpable effect the attack on the Altar had, much as certain people crowed of it. Witches were not so dependent upon one -- or three -- spirits, nor the spirits on a single place of 'power.' Perhaps the former Nightmother had some pact that made the Altar of some importance in retaining her authority, but given how the spirits seemed to control her... Vytal could only assume they hoped it prevented her from breaking their hold over the vessel. Ultimately, she fashioned new bonds with powerful spirits that could grant powers of their own.

None of which healed the pain and suffering caused by the assault itself. Or, perhaps, it was Shamira feeling she'd not done enough or that her creations had somehow failed. Vytal could not state enough that the young Witch's beasts had done admirable especially in light of unfavorable terrain -- a mountainside. It was only by the power of the spirits they'd even arrived as soon as they had. Somehow, the Nightmother reflected often, she would need to find the means of rousing Shamira and those like her from the consuming numbness they found themselves.

"I am also pleased to still see so many Twi'lek here despite the large number from off world." There'd be little hope of finding a way to draw Shamira out without conversing. All Vytal needed was a thread.

Template By: Darth Metus (Guy)

Cali Ziiva · Oct 28, 2020

Location: Shrines circling Vureshakkairn Castle
Outfit: White and not too revealing
Disposition: Cali

Was this where you'd expect to find a Zeltron? Think of all the grief. All the pain. Maybe even some anger. Sure, yeah, there were people here hurting; but there were a lot more people taking the time to not do those things. Maybe some of them were unhealthy and avoiding the fact they'd lost someone. Maybe some were striving to pull themselves out of the darkness and find some way to move on, but not forget. And then there were someone just there because it was a party.

Cali? Oh, she was there because a Zeltron showed up in the most unexpected of places.

As she bounced down the, uh riverwalk -- kind of? -- Cali felt a particular presence growing stronger in her mind. Closer. And the Force was doing that thing, which drew attention to yet another Force user. Explained how she felt it even further out than usual. Also, the woman seemed to be focused on a 'chant' of sorts only focusing her own emotions and power in the Force. Though there was a bit of a wobble to it. That didn't seem good. Well, none of it seemed good.

The pink woman stopped, turned, and bent down beside

Xevnlie BrightScorch as the woman knelt before a shrine. "They forgive you, you know." She stared at the young Knight for a moment. "You and me, we're locked in one shape, in one place, and only able to do so much. Constrained. Spirits? Not so much. Bet they see the bigger picture. The currents Masters talk about, but never quite grasp themselves. It's a lot to keep track of, right? Spirits don't have limitations like us. So they see it all. How could they not understand more than us? How couldn't they forgive? Besides," Cali paused to smile, "if you're here talking to them, I bet you tried and that's all anyone can really ask."

Ty Sibo · Oct 28, 2020

Location: woods that surround the Castle
Objective: That Witch Was Lost
Wearing: Loose fitting clothing without biosuit (lasts for 6 hours), and pet Mynock

Ty let the leaves of the Forest crunch beneath his boots as he walks through the peaceful forest. It was a very rare occasion for him to be outside of his armor originally coming to Ryloth to get it repaired he was told it would take 5 hours and decided to take a stroll during the festival of the dead perfect time for him to at the very least be a little social.

Lost in thought as he wondered threw the forest the soft wind blowing the fabric of his loosely hanging clothes the moonlight casting its rays on his ghastly skeletal form as his force abilities allowed him to move his red eyes, Glew, like a crackling fire, warm and inviting full of life within the lifeless pit of his sockets. only brought out of thought when he felt the shoulder of his jacket moved and the soft purring sounded against the side of his skull. He knew full well it was his Mynock. "Hey there shadow, anyluck finding yourself a friend to socialize with?" he asked retreaving a battery with a boney hand offering it to the creature which happing suckled it. "heh me neither but who knows we might stumble across someone ol girl."

The creature in question giving a happy coo to Ty's affection. Catching a glimpse at someone walking into the forest with their hood up Ty called out with his telepathy to them

Damerous "Enjoying the Peace of the festival as well?"

Faction The Gathering of the Dead | CIS Social

S T O R Y W E A V E R

Burn the past - Heal the future

Emotional Damage

Vylmira's Wrath

Andromeda Malvern

Guest

The Slowhand

Alor of Clan Gred, Mando'ad'jetii

A S C E N T

Shiraine Bennet

Guest

Yusha

Guest

Out of Time

Caedyn Arenais

Guest

Andromeda Malvern

Guest

Vylmira's Wrath

ᴛʜᴇ ᴅɪꜱʜᴏɴᴏʀᴇᴅ

The Slowhand

Character

N I G H T M O T H E R

Bubblegum Love

Character

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