Private The Pilgrims #6: Unwholesome Pursuits

[Ashin Cardé Varanin]

Korriban, purged and plundered a thousand times and all the stronger for it: a sacred wasteland of sizzling dunes and merciless mirages. Ashin crouched and flicked a pelko bug off her shin before it could bite. Or maybe the venomous little bastard had only been taking refuge in her shadow, in which case, fair enough.

She straightened up and took a look around the ragtag group of darksiders and close-enoughs. Unknown quantities, most of them, and better believe Ashin kept an eye on who was standing nearest to Spencer, just in case. They'd gathered in a set of ruins like any other ruins.

"You've waited long enough," Ashin said, and grimaced at how dry her throat felt and sounded. She took a swig of water from the canteen on her frayed Jedi utility belt. The rest of her gear was comparably ratty and nondescript. Comfortable, though. "Time to hear the plan."

The utility belt's largest pouch held rings of a knotted, stonelike substance, a dark gray-green. She fished them out and levitated them in various directions so today's companions could snag them from the air.

"These are alchemically petrified Drengir wood. The Drengir were an implacable enemy to both the Jedi and the Sith: a plant-based hive mind. They're probably not the galactic threat they were a millennium ago...but they might be. So there's significant risk to this particular errand.

"It was possible to get pulled into the hive mind, the 'Root-Mind,' to varying degrees, assimilated mentally or even physically. One aspect of that, not a full assimilation but certainly a dangerous form of contact, was getting drawn into the 'Root-Mind' in a visionary sense, a real-seeming and immersive environment of tentacular roots. The roots can drag you into and between visions. The petrified Drengir wood should let you enter the Root-Mind in that way, but what happens next - where your mind and vision are drawn, what you see, whether the Drengir get their hooks in your head - is up to you and to chance."

​

"See to your own physical security. Guards, privacy, going back inside your ships or into the ruins - do as you see fit. While we're in the Root-Mind, we'll all be in there together. It's vast in there, so maybe you'll be by yourselves or find each other, connect with each other. There are no guarantees. I can't even guarantee you'll learn anything of real value in there. Maybe the Drengir, wherever they physically are these days - the dark corners of a dozen forgotten worlds, I'd imagine - will learn more about you than you learn about them. Maybe they'll eat your life force while we're in there, or you'll find a degree of backdoor access to some other spiritual plane. Maybe you'll emerge as something of a hive mind yourself." Ashin smiled, bright and sharp. "Maybe you'll just gain a new appreciation for tentacles.

"Before we begin...a round of introductions, friends. You know who I am. Who's next?"


Gnost Zym
Spencer Varanin
Donne Toulemonde
Kal
Ravenous
Venn Kolis
Azlyn Ike
Enyo Typhos
Erion Justeene
Detritus Ren
Ostanes
OOC thread/signups here

 

[Avalore]

Avalore shifted her weight on her back foot, the teen lingering silently on the outer ring. Her once waify figure had seen several growth spirts, but she still somehow managed to blend into the shadows of people around her. Nothing about Avalore stood out, not her mosey coloring or her beady eyes. Her sunburned nose had seen as much action as her stained kakis, and to be honest, she was beginning to like it that way.

In the life of an underage tagalong, going unnoticed was a good thing. Going unnoticed meant she could stay.

She said nothing when Ashin opened the floor. A piece of driftwood levitated her way. Her lips quirked, dirty fingers snatching at it with typical eagerness.

She turned it over and began to probe it with the force.

 

[Azlyn Ike]

The albino stood there and well she wouldn't get burned even here in the sunlight... she had tried and sunburns... they didn't seem to like her. Then she was looking at some fo the others and hearing the plan.... the idea of them all joining a hive mind wasn't.... ideal but she had seen melds before... this sounded different. She would have to do some research maybe later but as the wood came towards her she took it and slid it next to her saber. The hilt with its crossguards set there and the cord on it holding it to her waist as she grinned and listened. Most people knew Ashin Cardé Varanin from well there was a lot of places... she wasn't one to be idle and the one Spencer Varanin she didn't stand near enough to be a threat but wasn't making it look like she was going to avoid the woman. Her eyes watched more as she spoke. "I am Azlyn one of the few who served in the Moross Crusade."

 

[Gnost Zym]

"This creature's suffering must have been...exquisite."

Gnost examined the petrified drengir remains with an unsettling curiosity. Like most kel dor the antiox breath mask and goggles he wore rendered his expression inscrutable. Sith tattoos carved intricate patterns into skin just shy of crimson with a slight orange hue. Unremarkable ebon robes shrouded the rest of Zym's form. Somewhere beneath a kyber crystal hungered to be released from its emitter matrix.

"You may call me Darth Vex," he inclined his head toward Ashin Cardé Varanin in a bow of deference, "I am apprenticed to Lord Ahrris but my training began here on Korriban years ago."

His voice was calm for a Sith. Zym uttered each word in a smooth cadence which the mask gave an artificial quality. If he felt any tension surrounded by trained killers the dark pilgrim did not show it. While his gaze was impossible to track it seemed to befall any whose attention lingered. Something about the kel dor's presence in the Force seemed evasive as if it also resisted scrutiny.

"It is said the Maw has had dealings with these drengir," Gnost seemed reluctant to divulge this knowledge, "Out in the deep black. It is said they are not to be trusted. Their rot was burned from Ool at great cost."

 

[Ravenous]

Ravenous had long stopped trying to get the red sand off his clothes by the time Ashin Cardé Varanin introduced herself, it seemed that Korriban's soil and dirt are still as inexorable from clothing as they were the last time he walked the planet's crimson surface. With a sickeningly robotic motion, Ravenous swiped the Drengir wood out of the air his gauntleted hand hiding the grey specimen from the burning sun. The dark energies that flowed through this place were lost on Ravenous until he willed it so and the same went for his stance in the force.

Every step he took, every sway of his cloak or swipe of the hand tore holes through the force erasing what should be written. One could not get a read on Ravenous as there was simply nothing to read. A hole, in reality, six feet tall and hugged by armor his horrid visage of a face covered by a bone mold mask that lets only his golden gaze peer through.

"A hive mind...perfection." The disturbing satisfaction with which he spoke was uncharacteristic of Ravenous but today the Dark Lord had a good feeling, something he hasn't had in a long time.

A brief inquisitive survey of his cape endowed companions gave Ravenous most of what he needed to know about his fellow travelers. He didn't need to know what they hoped to gain here so much as they intended to and by proxy couldn't be trusted beyond an arms-length...though the black clothing could have told him that much.

"My name is Ravenous." Flying out of his cloak the armored figure wrapped his metal fingers around a black card seemingly made of a thin slice of obsidian. Slapped in the middle there was a skull insignia seemingly burnt onto the almost transparent sheet. "I am the owner of the Heaven Spire on the planet Terminus. Perhaps you've heard of it?" Shameless plug aside Ravenous was eager to get started and the added orange in his eyes did more than a stellar job at showing this.

 

[Kal]

Unlike most of the individuals present, Kal was no Sith - he wasn't even a Darksider. Even so, he did little to stick out; his presence seemed Dark, if just a bit muted, and his appearance and demeanour implied little more than another ambitious apprentice.

He introduced himself, as did the rest, but he doubted anyone would remember the throwaway name.

After all, Dalzac Tregille had no birth records, no identity papers, no past, and no future.

<I appreciate the opportunity to study the unconventional.> No introductions were needed towards Ashin, the one person present with which he was personally acquainted. They were hardly close, but their previous interactions had been more or less positive; he knew enough about her not to bother with empty formalities, but some degree of politeness towards respectable individuals was still in his nature.

Keeping to the back of the group, the bland human slowly turned the small chunk of wood over in his hands. It was quite dead, of course, but at least some part of the greater connectivity it had once embodied persisted. How curious; no wonder Ashin had taken an interest.​

Ashin Cardé Varanin | Enyo Typhos (Planned) | The Rest™ (Open to Interactions)​

 

[Enyo Typhos]

Ashin Cardé Varanin , Kal

Korriban. A world steeped in ancient history Enyo was largely indifferent to. Many a Sith Acolyte or Jedi Padawan seemed to have an encyclopaedic knowledge of every Dark Lord who had been laid to rest in one of Korriban's many - and repeatedly looted - tombs. Every historian somehow had specialist knowledge of even the most obscure periods of history. For her part, the Terminatrix did not know her Marka Ragnos from her Naga Sadow.

She was no Sith. Ancient, dusty tombs meant little to her. Her connection to Korriban was different one. She had been broken her. Her body had burnt in hellfire when Korriban City was purged by the Jedi. She had been reborn in fire, emerging stronger. Just as the tomb world seemed to throughout the eras. "Enyo Typhos," she said simply. No titles, real or invented. She liked to think that her template would always announce herself with a host of grandiose ones, preferrably recited by a herald who doubled as a harem girl. One of many reasons Siobhan Kerrigan was the inferior model.

She took a look at the various organics that composed the group. None were known to her in person. Her template had known Ashin Varanin to some extent, or so flash memories told the Cyborg. For some reason, her gaze very briefly lingered on someone called Dalzac Tregille. She didn't know why. He was utterly unremarkable. Perhaps that was the reason. She caught the piece of petrified wood, and scrutinised it with an air of dispassionate curiosity. What interesting beings these Drengir were. Dangerous by, all accounts. Good.

 

[Spek Zhio]

As the Zeltron male reached for the achromatic ring of petrified wood, his thought process was broken. One could argue that the sudden and near instinctive snap of his right arm, as he swiped the object from the air and into his hand, was the culprit. Sudden physical actions, tend to detract oneself from introspection.

Most likely though, the true culprit was the surge of uncanny energy that emanated from the thing, as it was purposefully flung towards him, and jolted his balance in the Force. Not even the constant Dark of Korriban, like a dense miasma that jaded all other senses, managed to dull that sudden edge that sliced through his focus. A miasma that impaired him both physically and metaphysically.

No, he thought. As he scanned the group and listened to their introductions, involuntarily perceiving their individual affinities to the Force, a deeper understanding was growing inside of him. Like a cancer. Not unlike the tendrils of darkness reaching outwards from his core. Simultaneously warmth and coldness. Its duality, a comforting sensation. Almost nostalgic, even when emanated from such superlative agent.

Synesthetic and dichotomous perceptions was an everyday occurrence to him. Similar to how he saw Force propensities, as others would see colored nimbi silhouetting these individuals around him. No. Something is surfacing, overtaking every other sense. Darkness taking over.

Maybe it was for the best. If all these Sith and whatnot find out I'm not one of them. If they find out I wasn't even supposed to be here. That my ship and I got stranded on this ball of lint at the edge of a nowhere hyperspace lane... he shrugged the though out of his mind. With any luck, him having no affinity to either end of the Force spectrum, would cloud his inner thoughts from these others. And if not the Force, at least let my natural pheromones smooth things over with these guys!

Not more than two dozen or so meters behind him stood the Azure Alcyone. His retrofitted relic of a bygone era, and the reason why he found himself there in the first place. Housing the brain module of a modern droid, the Alcyone was a capricious ship. Yet, one capable of handling almost every system that any modern ship could - even if this fact was concealed by the repainted husk of an YT-1930. If only a navcomputer was one of them... If only that strong pull didn't messed with my astrogation...

If...
If...
If...

If my mother had a hyperdrive she would be a corvette, or so the Corellian saying went.

As the rest were introducing themselves, they mentioned feats and titles that, while sounding important, meant little to him. And how the hell am I supposed to match what these dudes are saying, when I don't even understand half of what it is they're saying?

Still, as locations were being mentioned, even those that he have never visited or even heard of before, his mind's eye seemed to instinctively point towards them, on the firmament. Like a compass.

Oh, great! Now you work? Why even Korriban? Interrupted thoughts came flooding back in. What am I thinking? It had to be Korriban. It's always Korriban!

It was then, that as a couple of individuals began throwing out one-line introductions, he saw his opportunity to do the same.

"The name's Spek Zhio," he thought of making it short and to the point. "It's Zhio with a "zh", pronounced as the "si" in evasion or diversion. Or the soft "g" in camouflage or entourage." He did not.

Druk and kark! It's always Korriban.

 

[Venn Kolis]

Journey of The Spark​

The young man looked up from the piece of wood in the palm of his hand. Green eyes stayed on Ashin Cardé Varanin , and none else. Several of the people in this circle could kill him with little more than a thought, but Ashin at least had arranged the meeting. Venn felt some semblance of safety in her presence.

He remained quiet as introductions were made. He daren't announce who he was before some of these dark lords had had their turn. The only question was when it would be appropriate....

Ah. This would do. This idiot next to him was explaining how his name was pronounced, after having just spoken it out-loud for everyone to hear. Spek was clearly flustered, and if he was speaking without being killed for his insolence, then it was probably safe to speak.

"I am Venn. I seek understanding." Venn spoke clearly in a quiet, humble voice. It was all he dared to share. To lie in the presence of someone like Ashin or this man Ravenous was to invite destruction. And so truth in simplicity was the best policy. He needn't lie about the identity of his master if he never shared he had one at all. Assumptions could be made, but they were harmless compared to the ire that might be attracted if those assembled sensed he was lying.

Having said his piece, Venn bowed his head, his unremarkable grey coat flapping in a stiff breeze that shifted the amber sand under his feet with a hiss. Trying not to imagine that his master might have a powerful enemy in this circle, hungry for the chance to inconvenience him by slaying his ward. After all, Venn carried no weapon, and wore no armor. His face was unobscured: no helmet nor mask nor hood hid his face from the harsh desert sun. He was no one. Nothing.

Except, perhaps, for a spark.

 

[Ashin Cardé Varanin]

She'd intended to give everyone time to get situated and attend to their own personal security. She'd intended to engage with the Root-Mind privately, and give them all that same opportunity for privacy.

The Root-Mind had other ideas.

An inordinately powerful vision, barely distinguishable from reality, tore away Ashin's sense of her surroundings. The same, she felt, was happening to everyone else. She retained just enough control to sit down in the real world before her body collapsed.

It was as though they all stood inside the tangled coils of the Root-Mind. Though their physical bodies remained in the desert of Korriban, their minds and spirits were right here in the dark, surrounded by hungry roots.

​

Gnost Zym
Spencer Varanin
Donne Toulemonde
Kal
Ravenous
Venn Kolis
Azlyn Ike
Ostanes
Detritus Ren
Erion Justeene
Enyo Typhos
Spek Zhio

 

[Avalore]

Roots raced up, lashing at her wrists and ankles. They felt so real, their rough texture scratching against the flesh that she knew didn't exist. This place didn't exist. She was probably wrong on that, but the sentiment kept Avalore calm as the roots snaked around her torso and anchored her to its writhing mass.

Avalore could feel panic in the air, but it didn't come from her. Something told her their experiences might all be different. For Avalore, though... There was no running from the hive mind, not that she wanted to.

The forest had always been her friend.

She surrendered to the roots, her muscles relaxing against their attacks. Root by root, she was overcome, until the last of the strange clearing was blotted out and Avalore was swallowed whole.

The roots constricted in a momentary vice... then softened around her.

Indecipherable whispers brushed against her, pressing for an answer that she didn't know how to give. She parted her lips to say this-- Pain exploded across her temples as roots shoved in. Avalore gasped, but the sensation blended away as a soft green light consumed her.

Her essence dispersed from the place it had been knotted down, the girl's presence suddenly dispersed all around.

And she could understand.

 

[Donne Toulemonde]

​

​

Korriban. A place of intrigue. A place of the past. A place of the immediate future, both unwritten and unknown. The pilgrims with her she paid no heed, experiencing only what she herself had come to perceive, to gain perspective on.​

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A sudden lurch in her perception of reality. ​

​

She breathed. A lifetime of psychometric visions, detailed accounts of the past, a coexistence that so often brought her to the place where actuality and perception became a concurrent thread, had prepared her for the unwieldy feeling that took over her. She allowed the tangled roots to take her essence, leaving her totally void of control of her body.​

​

Flash.​

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Flash​

​

Flash​

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It was remarkable. For the first time since she could recall, she was experiencing the sensation of when her psychometry was triggered, the echoes of the past that came to her through her connection with the Force...and nothing was happening. It was like a sensation of openness, of a vast expanse opening up beneath her as her sense of comprehension abandoned her. She tried not to panic but her breathing increased rapidly. Her experiences with the Force had made her a powerful tool for investigation and she had gotten used to a life of flashes of light and sound, notions of the past like watching a holo-drama.​

​

But here she was...abandoned and in great danger...or was she? She looked around her at the other acolytes and Force practitioners present and decide the best thing to do was to succumb to whatever was going to happen next.​

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[Erion Justeene]

It has been quite some time since he stepped onto the sands of Korriban, the last time was almost a decade ago. The surface looked shattered but the essence wasn't. He needed to be here as a Pilgrim, this is where the Sith originated after all. He had to leave his Apprentice behind, he wanted to keep Thierry engaged but decided, no not this time.

<"I am Darth Superious, and I seek knowledge."> Seeing as he was here, he thought to introduce himself.

Then it hit him, at first it was a small prickle on the back of his neck that made his fingers itch as the sensation spread and then he was hoisted by his ankles by roots. This wasn't the normal upside-down sensation, because he didn't seem to be anywhere at that angle. Then the whole sensation solidified, and new surroundings came into focus. His physical body sat on the sands of Korriban far away.

A large snarl of roots, a snarl of moving roots, he corrected himself. How did he teleport to here? The how's and the whys did not matter, what mattered is what he was going to do next. He stepped over a writhing root to get as far away from the edge as possible. He did not want to know what being plant food felt like.

Also, he realised that he was not alone in this Astral Out of Body Experience.

 

[Kal]

The connection formed faster than any of them had anticipated; as his mind lurched elsewhere, Kal was given a brief last impression of his surroundings - some sat down, some fell, and his body returned to something resembling a soldier at attention as it defaulted to the conditioning imprinted upon its brain in the absence of a controller.

Functional at home, in the absence of other instructions, if perhaps a bit telling in public.

---

Roots. Shadows. Minds. Swirling emotions, theirs or their hosts', it was impossible to tell. At first the flora seemed inanimate, but Kal quickly became aware of subtle motions - more metaphysical than material in nature.

This was not his first mind-meld, but it still felt different. It would be easy to lose oneself to the whole.

His first instinct was to pull back, to see if he could extricate himself from the sudden change in scenery, but he had come to learn and learn he would. Identifying a particularly stable mind from the din, he ventured towards it, or at least he tried to do so, but this 'place' was almost as alien to him as it was to the humans among them.

When he mingled with his kin, they were a chorus of intermingling individuality, but here was the droning of countless voices too quiet to be heard. Inviting him to listen, inviting him to join - offputting, to say the least.

Enyo Typhos​

 

[Ravenous]

Ravenous began to understand more of this strange phenomenon the more time passed and the more his fellow travelers spoke their thoughts and brought their feelings into existence. It seemed the pilgrimage he was to make would be a metaphysical one void of flesh and purely a mental trek.

Now more than ever he needs to ensure his well-being when he enters his lethargic state in this party of dark lords and zealous children…

He never got the chance to activate his comm.

Already?! You have got to be screwing with me! First, the smell of flora and humidity on a scarred desert world put him off balance followed by the weakening of the senses which kept the muscles tense and locked in place. Ravenous felt himself going limp and senseless as though falling out of his own body, his new set of ears faintly picking up the clang of his metal coffin hitting the sand.

The dark lord found himself lying in the dirt for only the briefest moment before the ground beneath him writhed under his weight contempt with his intrusion and expelled by the sturdiness of his steel. Roots. He sat at the base of a massive organism too colossal for him and his companions to attribute correctly from where they stood.

Well at the very least it means none of them can rob him in his sleep! Now the question was where exactly in this matrix of a hive they were...and what was in here with them.

¨I am assuming you are all as eager as I am, yes? I say we start walking, or climbing in this case, after all, I would bet that none of us have ever seen a fruit that grows from the roots.¨

Disinterested with the salivating branches wailing to hold him down and digest him, Ravenous rose to his alloy heels and approached the rest of his scattered group swatting away a stray vine every now and then.

¨Ashin. Is there anything else we ought to know about the root mind?¨ Ravenous looked to the others so they knew he was addressing them too. ¨Or are you in the dark as the rest of us?”

 

[Enyo Typhos]

Kal

The moment the introduction session had passed, the Root-Mind struck. From Enyo's point of view, there was something positive to be found here. It meant work could not be delayed by chatter. Organics were fond of chatter. It's why she didn't have any chairs in her office. The downside was that they were confronted by the hivemind without prior preparation.

Her mind was dragged into the shadows. The link between mind and body seemed to have been severed. Her physical body was not particularly appetising though. There was no meat, only synthetic flesh that covered a metal endoskeleton. But the flora around them seemed to come to life, as ravenous roots engulfed them from various sides. This new location was disorientating to her. Enyo was accustomed to rely on her superior vision, sensors, scanners and the like, but none of that applied here. It was disconcerting.

The armoured casket, forged in hellfire. I am a timeless chorus; the sweet unity of purpose. Whispers brushed against a mind, like a thousand voices speaking in unison in eldritch tongues. She regarded the sight with a detached, analytical curiosity. This should be an interesting experience. Her gaze fell upon one of the members of the rag tag group, who seemed to be trying to reach her. Her eyes flashed. His presence was vaguely familiar, but his appearance was not.

She cocked her head to the side slightly. "You're not who you purported to be. You're something more interesting," Enyo remarked blandly, emotionlessly, as if she'd come across another puzzle that had aroused her interest. "I assume we're in the Root-Mind. Do you know anything about this phenomena?"

 

[Azlyn Ike]

She stayed there and there were more then a few she didn't know... okay... she knew none of them but not because she was anti-social or something... she just didn't like being around people... totally different as touching the petrified piece she could feel something below it.... then was moving to make her preparations when it came. A hunger... a rage... an oppressive feeling that sunk her deep down into the sands of the valley it felt like. She didn't drop her body being still but mentally she was falling as her stomach felt like it was in her throat... then she was slammed to the ground and in the trees able to feel more around herself... empathy was twisted in zeltrons... even half and albino but she knew she was in her head somewhere... this hive mind wasn't exactly what she wanted to risk losing herself in.

 

[Spek Zhio]

When the man next to him followed his cue, Spek felt reassured that he had done the right thing. So soft-spoken, the grounded spacer thought, This guy seems nice.

After all, Sith and Jedi are nothing but labels. A certain stone-faced red-haired came to mind. And labeling things, limits understanding.

Aren't the Jedi the ones who taught me the words 'there is knowledge'? Well, seems to me that these dudes--

Interrupted thoughts, for suddenly the sky was being covered by tendrils of darkness. Similar to the ones he felt growing inside of him. But only now did Zhio realize, they had been emanating from the piece of wood on his hand, all along. Those tendrils... same as the ones blotting the sky, casting their shadows over the whole of Korriban. Only now did the spacer realize. Those are roots!

And, as the protracting boughs threatened to drape in darkness the last defiant corner of his being, he felt his consciousness slip away as if sinking into a dream. If Spek managed to lie on the ground before slipping into the encroaching dream-world, upon realizing what was happening, he could not tell. For when he found himself fully submerged, he was yet in a kneeling position.

"I'm going to wake up with a nasty bump on the head!"

If he ever wakes up.

Now looking around, he saw that the bark was not the only thing that changed. The auras had faded into nothingness. However, a few of the others, still retained a semblance of the Force. No. Rather, it was something else entirely different. And he could not tell what. Maybe these roots hold the answer, he wondered as he reached out with a right hand. But when the plant reached back towards him, aggressively, he hastily decided to keep his hand to himself. Awkwardly shoving it into the pocket of his golden-embroidered red doublet, he also hoped that no one had noticed his blunder, since the one who had introduced himself as Ravenous was just stepping forward with a question. Still, he decided to place the other hand on the pommel of the vibrosword at his left hip, and pretend he was just adopting some sort of regal stance.

That's the owner of the thingamajig on the whatsitsname, Spek recalled to himself. Must be nice to own something, even if it's on the Kallea sector of the Outer Rim, past that bend behind that star over there. He looked up, but the stars had shied away. Still, he finished his thought. Fastest way would be to just take the Hydian Way until you hit the Spur, and knock at the dude's door.

He lightly gave a couple of taps on both cheeks, with open palms, in order to snap out of it.

Head in the game, Spek! Keep your eyes on the borgleball!

 

[Gnost Zym]

Zym collapsed to one knee, and then he was somewhere else.

"How marvelous."

His mind burned with inspiration even as thorns coiled around the Sith's robes. Still Gnost reveled in all the unfamiliar sensations. He could only think of how this experience might inform his art. Instinct urged him to struggle against the grasping roots but it was too late. Grim realization dawned on the kel dor that he was caught in a trap.

"This is unfortunate," he admitted.

Despite these grave circumstances Zym seemed far too calm for a creature of the darkside. His cold analytical mind suffered only the abstract passions of a tortured artist. More barbs dug into his flesh. Gnost could almost hear his master's cruel barking laughter at such weakness. Yet the agony provided him with inspiration. What incredible new works he would create if he managed to survive this dangerous encounter with the drengir root-mind.

 

[Kal]

The stable mind he had ventured towards turned out to be a member of their impromptu 'expedition', not a native. A surprise, to be sure, given that the group was composed of Darksiders, but not an unwelcome one.

With any luck, she could be used as a grounded comparison point next to the voiceless din.

<I am not, no.> It was harder to hide one's identity in this format, but it was not like they were foes. <Kal of Masque.>

Having shed his human disguise, the Shadow spun in a slow circle, pinpricks of light staring at the roots that surrounded them, the gesture serving more to focus his mind than to perceive physical details. This place was, after all, quite different from the stolid immutability of Realspace, yet it was not a separate realm, unlike his home. More a convergence of minds.

<Not specifically, no, but I have interacted with hive minds before. This one seems distant yet welcoming; I wonder if any of our companions will be foolish enough to take it up on its offer.> The Sith lived such contentious lives - surely some must be tempted to let it all go, to become part of a greater whole, to abandon ambition for hunger.

Enyo Typhos​