The Mind's Maelstroms

[Darth Rixas]

Black booted feet stomped their way to the Verd estate, although the mandalorian wasn't dressed in his robes at the moment. In a more simple and casual attire, Oron wore simple black trousers to match his boots along with a black long-sleeve top. Violet eyes peered from behind abysmal shades as he eyed the entrance to the building. Casually extending a hand to wave the double doors open with the Force, Oron continued into his clan's home as he waved once more to close the doors behind himself, cutting off the bright sunlight of the world from the dark insides of the Estate. It was surprisingly quiet this eve, causing Oron's eyebrow to raise slightly out of curiosity. Usually the audio from holorecordings, the sound of clan-mates training in the back, or even footsteps from the floors above could be heard but alas - only silence.

But a very particular signature did resonate throughout the estate, announcing his place in the residence through the Force. Prior to Oron's return, it had been nearly 5 years since he'd last seen [member="Isley Verd"] and their reunion had yet to carry an actual conversation; one or the other always out of the estate when one returned. But they couldn't miss each other today, because Oron was specifically told to meet Isley here. The nature of the meeting was a mystery to the Dark Jedi, but his fingers moved with anticipation as he climbed the stairs to the second floor and traveled down the hall before stopping at the door to Isley's Master Chambers.

knock knock knock

...

"It's Oron!"

 

[Darth Metus]

Five years.

That was the astronomical sum of time that had passed since Isley had seen his brother last. A simple meeting, one born of a desire to test the others' strength, was the previous event that had seen the two siblings together...and now, the youngest had called his older brother home. It had been far too long since Isley returned to the Verd Estate, and time had not been kind to the manor. What was once a vibrant home, filled to the brim with Clansmen, was now a shadow of its former self. The culprit of this disturbing silence was an untimely death.

Their father, Raki, had perished just shy of five years ago. Their youngest sister, Ginnie, was the one who had pulled the plug. In the wake of his death, Clan Verd splintered. The lack of an ever-present heir inspired most to simply return to the mercenary way of life, and those that remained took up work within Isley's own corporation. Yet, all, including Isley, felt uncomfortable standing within the Estate wrought from Raki's own hands. He personally laid the foundation of this home when he had nothing...and without him there, it didn't feel like home any longer.

Regardless, Isley had returned and the call for his elder brother had been made. He awaited his arrival in the Master suite, where he...and a few crawling friends...awaited. Before Oron announced himself verbally, Isley felt him through the Force. His aura was just as strong as ever, but there was an ocean of potential that laid underneath the surface. This meeting was, hopefully, going to draw some of it into reality. "I'm upstairs, brother!" Isley called, before rising from his seat.

He sat before the fireplace, flanked by an additional seat. Both were situated atop a rug characterized by the Mandalorians' famed symbol: The Mythosaur. Furthermore, a single sack rested beside Isley's chair...in addition to the crumpled for of a man. This poor sod was a clone, one of a slightly tanned complexion. He bore the face of Jango Fett, but was born during the era of the second Confederacy. Now, why was this man in Isley's home? Because he was a Dread Guard...and a traitorous one at that. This one, like ten thousand others, had rebelled against the one who had seen them born. As such, Isley was well within his rights to seek out a little bit of vengeance.

And through this act, his brother's strength would grow.

Eventually, Oron would make his way upstairs and Isley would be waiting at the door to greet him. The Mandalorian, without another word, would first embrace him before motioning for him to join him at the fire. No doubt Oron wanted answers as to why he had been called, and Isley eagerly had the answer.

"I asked you here for several reasons. One, it's been far too long since I've seen you. I needed to know that you were alive...especially after the Hell Akala inflicted on the Galaxy. Two, you needed to see the manor and our Clan for what they are. What was once proud and vibrant has perished with our Sire...and Three...I have brought you here so that you can grow even stronger than before. I know that I'm rambling, so please stop me at any moment."

[member="Oron Verd"]

 

[Darth Rixas]

Oron took a step back as his fist finished rapping the door and watched as the door slid open almost immediately, Isley already expecting him. It'd been so long since Oron had seen him, he had to commit a few seconds to study his younger brother before embracing him. Though it wasn't as much of a surprise as much as it was exciting. He'd grown, and was evermore powerful in the Force. Oron could feel its overbearing presence even now, a destructive bulwark of invisible energy standing next to his own, eclipsed.

Pulling from the embrace, Isley ushered him into the room. Glancing around, Helios caught the dread guard crumpled on the ground immediately. Oron didn't feel anything upon seeing him, instead he only became more curious and eager to become enlightened by his sibling.

"I asked you here for several reasons. One, it's been far too long since I've seen you. I needed to know that you were alive...especially after the Hell Akala inflicted on the Galaxy."

Oron tilted his head back and forth, nodding in agreement and understand as Isley spoke. A lot of people died, some disappearing into another plane, while those whom remained had their own tribulations to deal with. Miraculously, Oron had come out of the event unscathed save for some psychological scarring. He meditated often to rid himself of unwelcome flashbacks and other thoughts he wished to safely purge from his mind, but his progress was slow and his patience was wearing thin. The agitation threatened to bleed into his response, if only slightly. Oron smiled at Isley, masking prior emotions further from his voice.

"It has been a long time brother, but I have survived the dark times that have crossed over the galaxy." Oron said before stopping a moment to collect his thoughts. "Although from the hell that transpired, I am also glad that you live Isley." He admitted.

"Two, you needed to see the manor and our Clan for what they are. What was once proud and vibrant has perished with our Sire..."

That explained the emptiness of the estate. It was wistful, holding a light dread aloft in the air. Realization failed to set in when Isley said that their father died. Instead, Oron chose to ignore that part of the sentence. He was not here when he died which created a pain the dark jedi didn't want to fully experience at the moment.

"Would a restoration be possible?" He offered, responding to at least the first half of the statement.

Oron let the question hand in the air so that he could fully grasp the last line of his brother's opening dialogue. Power was something Oron wished to attain, to grow stronger and better maneuver through the secrets of the Force. He'd been stone-walled up to this point, stagnant in his growth unable to break through the barricade that separated him from further ascendance. Any moment, Oron knew, that Isley spoke of the Force or anything in general there was much to learn. If anything, he urged Isley to further expand upon what it was he would do further increase his own prowess.

"Oh, please continue brother. You're not rambling at all."

[member="Isley Verd"]

 

[Darth Metus]

Once Oron had entered the room, the Mandalorian led him to the seats by the fire. Isley did not hesitate in the slightest when it came to returning to his seat, for it was leagues more comfortable than what he was accustomed to sitting upon. Once settled, he folded his hands upon his lap and listened to the words of his elder sibling. For one, he was glad that Akala's return did not see Oron's demise...but did it see him cast into the Netherworld? Isley was amongst the unfortunate masses that found themselves at the mercy of the Celestial and had to claw his way out of Hell.

Literally.

"It brings me great joy and relief to see that you are alive. I can only fathom what you have been through. I hope that you were not cast into the Bloody Hell that I was...I wouldn't wish that fate upon my worst enemy." he said. Just the mere mention of the Blood Wastes sent a chill down Isley's spine. The ceaseless wailing. The blood...so much blood...and the sensation of feeling absolutely powerless. Never before had Isley been so shaken in all his life, and it was one of the reasons that he had resumed his question for power. He once was satisfied with the might that laid within his grasp...Yet in an instant, he was reduced to the helplessness of an infant.

There would be, of course, time to dwell on the Hell that transpired later, but Oron had made a remark about the status of the Estate. That was indeed a much needed change of subject...although his sibling conveniently did not touch the matter of their father's death. Both sons were not present during their patriarch's final days, and Isley was sure that Oron felt the same as he. Although he was not too fond of the man, the Mandalorian regretted not being able to make his peace with him...and not being able to say goodbye.

"I don't see a reason why a restoration wouldn't be possible. Force knows we have the funds for it!" he began, before remembering that Oron did not know of Isley's recent fortune. "Which reminds me. I have recently become the CEO of a corporation: Stargo Defense Enterprises. It's no Czerka Arms in size, but it's given me enough credits to pretty much accomplish whatever I please these days. That said, I could see this home being reborn: a fitting place for the two of us, and whatever demons we decide to sire."

At this, Isley just couldn't help but chuckle. The though of a miniature Oron popped into his mind...and it caused a smirk to erupt upon his features. Yet, his elder sibling seemed interested in the final portion of his piece, the part revolving around elevating his power. This was what the Mandalorian wanted. This was the meat and potatoes of their meeting. Leaning forward, Isley steepled his fingers before continuing.

"I have recently come into the possession of some strange creatures. Droch. Insects from Nam Chorios. They feed upon the energies of other sentients in order to survive. Life energies. Force energies. It is said that, in order to harness this power for one's self, that it must be experienced first hand."

"However, I've no intention to get the life sucked out of me by an insect and I doubt that you do either. So, I brought our dear friend here. He was a member of the Dread Guard, but the cloning process rejected the Vong shaping that was standard. So, he's a regular, Force sensitive being like the both of us. Now, what does this mean for you and I? I simply connect our minds to this poor sod, toss a bugger upon him, and let us taste of the drain through the victim."

"I figure that such a power would be useful, especially if employed creatively. Brother. You are strong, stronger than last we met, but I desire to see us grow powerful enough that such demons as Akala cannot trample upon us. Great things are in store for us, of this I am sure, but first we must take the initial steps. So, that said, if you desire this strength...link your mind to my own. And fret not, I won't go rifling through your memories or anything of the sort."

[member="Oron Verd"]

 

[Darth Rixas]

"Oh, so you're rich now?" Oron said sarcastically as he added a sly smile akin to the joking nature that hid beneath the seriousness of Oron's usual posture. He couldn't help the chuckle that escaped his lips as he said the words. Power came in many forms, the Force being only one while financial wealth was another. Both served different purposes, and both accomplished feats the other couldn't. Oron understood the polarizing difference, but he'd still failed to venture into the business realm. Another hearty chuckle escaped him as Isley spoke of siring children after refurbishing the estate. It seemed ridiculous, but Oron held no control over matters of the heart. When his wife presented herself, he would know.

Hearing his brother tell him to create a force bond for the ensuing display, Oron quieted himself and furrowed his brow as he concentrated on drawing on the Force. How long had it been since the two had bonded their minds? A moment of consideration crossed Oron's mind before realizing that it had yet to happen despite their past. Before establishing it, he wondered if there were any climbing walls between their consciousness to waver - yet there were none and as he concentrated to make the bond concrete Oron could glimpse the cadence of his brother's emotions through the cracks, like light filtering the smallest of crevices, escaping the depths of it's own origins. However, as he wound the connection together clarity struck him, the turbulence of their adjoined minds slowing in into a calming nature. The multitudes of emotions within himself were sure to be felt by Isley, but none of that was of any consequence, what needed to be done was accomplished. Oron paused, his eyes drowning in absolute focus as he rested his hands in his lap, adjusting to the feeling of a connection long since absent, now reaffirmed, although only temporarily.

Closeness. It was something he had almost forgotten, and perhaps he would have, had it not been for Isley. He had decided long ago, when he was much more foolish, to sever any familial ties, to keep himself from the heartache of their absence, instead pouring his passion into betterment, into training and ardent planning to prepare himself for the wars he instigated with the Sith; ready to introduce redemption on dark wings to those whom deserved it. Absence, however, did not denote lack of sentiment, and still he could pine for the life he had wished to attain amongst his clansmen and the Mandalorians. But that was an indulgence he seldom entertained now. Finally Oron had found his own path onwards.

Intrigued by the capsules Isley possessed, he could see damage they'd caused their containers in desperate attempts to destroy the invisible walls separating them from freedom. He could hear their buzzing now, he realized, turning his head to face the incessant parasitic creatures that nestled in their holds. Oron read about the creatures across a variety of texts, failing to see how they could serve him. Unlike the infamous Orbalisks which at least provided an exchange for their infestation, the Droch held no offer of power to their host, creating a relationship unfair enough to turn away even the most daring of collectors and alchemist. How Isley attained them was another question that pricked at the back of Oron's mind. But it's answer wasn't important enough to bring up at this moment.

Eager to see the preceding of the session, Oron spoke his eagerness.

"I'm ready. Let us see how long he lasts."

[member="Isley Verd"]

 

[Darth Metus]

"Don't you mean that We are rich?" came Isley's response. Although his face was alive with amusement and his words were punctuated by light chuckles, the underlying truth was evident. Anything in this world that the Mandalorian had, he would gladly share with his sibling. Be it his wealth, his power, or simply his life. The simple reality of it was that the Galaxy was running out of Verds, so those that remained needed to stick together. At least, that was Isley's take on the matter.

Yet, just as quickly as the mirth had bubbled up between the brothers, the time for seriousness was at hand. At Isley's behest, Oron began the process of forging their mental bond. Although the intent was temporary, the situation called for adjustments and bracing on the part of both parties. Personally, Isley was skilled in two particular areas: Sorcery and Mentalism. As such, he had trained himself to be a bastion against mental offenses; erecting numerous walls that were maintained with minimal effort. For this process to work, the vast majority of these countermeasures had to be temporarily suspended.

And that meant that Isley was left feeling just a tad vulnerable. He did not feel completely and utterly helpless as he did in the Netherworld, but this level of vulnerability was the definition of uncomfortable. Regardless, it was necessary moving forward and the Mandalorian drew a careful, calming breath once the process was completed. Then, in an instant, Isley was not alone. Although he was never physically by his lonesome, he was always isolated in his mind...Yet Oron asserted his presence as per the request.

Isley could feel the underlying current of his brother's emotions. He detected...a small hint of satisfaction, something that the Mandalorian could only guess hailed from their reunion. There was apprehension, no doubt in light of the process...but also much more that Isley couldn't identify. Nor would he try. The bond was perfect as is and the Mandalorian was not about to waste precious time probing. Instead, he gave Oron a nod of confidence before reaching his hand into the sack beside him. There he fished forth a single jar that contained one specimen.

"Brace yourself. We're about to try on this poor sod's shoes." he said, before commanding the Force between them. Their bond was expanded almost instantly; opening in order to embrace the feeble presence of the man bound before them. At once, a flood of frantic emotions was introduced to their minds. Fear. Anger. More Fear. (Did I mention Fear?) This brought no end of amusement to the Mandalorian, who took great pleasure in opening the jar and tilting it down over the man's head. Gravity took over and the Droch plummeted down upon its meal.

Skitter. Skitter. Skitter.

Then, there was a scream. The Dread Guard uttered a wail that only mirrored the agony that soon wreaked havoc upon the whole of his essence. Isley could feel it and gritted his teeth against one another, steeling himself for the ride. He felt as though every fiber of his being was being assaulted; every cell being squeezed for precious energies. It was painful. It was exhausting.

It was...magnificent...

Casting a glance upward, Isley looked to see how his sibling was faring. Fortunately for the siblings, the process would not be that much longer. At the start the Dread Guard was in sordid shape, for the Mandalorian didn't want any unnecessary resistance. As such, it was only a matter of time before the Droch sucked the man completely dry...and left two empowered warriors in its wake.

[member="Oron Verd"]

 

[Darth Rixas]

Oron's features softened at hearing Isley's opener, nodding humbly in understanding to what his brother was saying. Times were different for the two of them, and surely for the rest of the clan. Perhaps a gathering could help assess exactly what the mental state of the Verd's were along with health in general. Such things could be fished later, however. For now, Oron's eyes were locked on the jar tilting over it's victim crumpled on the floor. There was something sinister in choosing that particular spot to unleash the small bug. Something Oron noted as he watched Isley unscrew the lid to the jar in his hands.

Nice placement.

Impatience, buzzing and stirring within Oron like a hive of hornets, incensed and vicious as he watched the Dreadguard wail and holler in agony. The way his starved and delicate frame whipped and thrashed on the floor, extending arms, and slamming legs against the cold resistance of the hardwood brought a wicked smile to the dark jedi's lips. He felt as though his his body was being rejuvenated, replacing lost energy and placid fatigue with an adrenaline that seemed to wipe physical ailments themselves completely from his being. His gaze hardened, triangulating his eyes upon the being whom suffered at the wrath of the Droch which burrowed itself into the skull of the Dreadguard.

Temptation moved throughout Oron relentlessly, his emotions shifting into glancing daggers that threatened to slice open the barrier which held them back. They welled within him, within his stomach, reallocating a gut feeling to the young Mandalorian with absolute assurance as if he could feel actual parasites in his belly. The Force Bond between the two brothers strengthened then as Oron lifted a gloved hand and concentrated on the relationship of the Droch and the Dreadguard, relaying the process of the energy and life being sucked from the man in his mind over and over again before he finally acted on his new-found discovery.

A constriction began to pressurize on his intended target, amplifying the drain the Droch inflicted on him tenfold, accelerating the process by minutes. The level of torment wrought on the Dreadguard was mind-numbingly unbearable. His screaming ceased as foam began to form at the corners of his lips before filling his entire grill with the liquid bubble substance. A final gasp broke from the man as his last breath fought its way out of his chest, as if it break through a barrier of its own before his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he leaned back and smacked his head on the ground. Dead.

The energy being manipulated during the exchange rushed over the two warriors whom awaited their reward with open arms. Pain, anguish, regret, sorrow, hopelessness and the Dreadguard's very essence of life, all left behind by his death, empowered the two as the Dreadguard crossed over into the after-life. Lowering his limb, Oron stared at his gloved, open palms fascinated by what he'd accomplished. An ordeal made possibly only by Isley.

[member="Isley Verd"]