Faction The Roots of Evil - [The Dark Court]

[Darth Virelia]

The Roots of Evil

Nathema breathes again.

What was once a void, a silence deeper than death, has awakened into something far stranger. The forests grow too quickly here. The roots twist as if they remember pain, the branches hum as if they remember voices. Nathema was stripped bare once—emptied by a ritual so cruel it silenced the Force itself—and yet the soil has not forgotten. It has begun to speak again, though none can agree on what it says.

The Dark Court has turned its gaze to these reborn wilds. Whispers spread of growths that do not behave as plants should—trees that bleed when struck, vines that constrict like muscles, flowers whose scents stir memory of lives never lived. Some call it a natural resurgence, the planet reclaiming itself after centuries of stillness. Others claim that something older lies beneath, bleeding into the roots of the world.

It is here that opportunity blooms. For those who dare, Nathema offers riddles and dangers both. Perhaps its growths may be harvested, reshaped into tools or weapons. Perhaps its whispers will lead to buried truths. Or perhaps it is simply hunger given form, drawing the curious and the bold into its depths to be consumed.

The Court does not forbid others from walking these paths. There are places where rivals, allies, and wanderers alike may cross, each seeking something different in the heart of Nathema. The planet is alive again, and it remembers.

Those who would claim its secrets however, must tread carefully.

Objective One: The Living Jungle

The forests of Nathema are not passive. They do not merely grow; they act. The trees that sprang up are fed by something stranger than sunlight, and every branch and vine seems to bear intention. The paths close behind you, the roots test your footing, and the air itself thickens with spores that creep into thought. To walk here is to feel watched. To fight here is to bleed into soil that drinks eagerly.

The Dark Court calls for those willing to carve a way forward. Bands of voreclaws patrol these woods, their hides thickened by whatever energy has seeped into the roots. Other predators—twisted beasts, half-starved and half-transformed—emerge from the undergrowth. Not all threats bear fangs; some blossoms release clouds that drag memories into waking life, breaking focus in battle.

To complete this path is to endure. Hack through the jungle's defenses, burn away the choking growth, and carve a trail deeper into Nathema's hidden heart. The Court seeks trophies from these abominations—fangs, flowers, fragments of living roots—proof that the wilds can be tamed, and that those who dared walk among them returned with more than scars.

The Lost Lysander von Ascania Delsin Shaw Iskera Valest Luvaen Malstadt

Objective Two: The Whispering Roots

Beneath the strangling canopy lies a cavern where the roots converge like veins around a heart. There, in the blackness, pulses a crystalline shard. It glows faintly, yet its presence is heavy—an echo of power long thought destroyed. To touch it is to hear whispers in the mind, each promising strength, each demanding loyalty. Some call it remnant, some curse, some prize worth killing for.

The Dark Court has declared no single fate for the shard. Each who enters the cavern may claim their right: to bind it, to destroy it, or to wield it for themselves. None will stand unchallenged. Already, rivals stake their claim, blades are drawn, and the very roots twist tighter around the chamber, feeding on the violence to come.

To complete this path is to contest. Test yourself against those who covet the same prize—through words sharpened to daggers, through rituals that scar the air, or through steel and fire in earnest duel. Only one outcome matters: who leaves the cavern with the shard's secret, and who is left feeding its roots.

Nathema will not decide. The Court will not intervene. The victor writes the ending—on stone, in blood.

(OOC NOTE: This engagement will go for 10 days, after which the victor will be decided behind the scenes by yours truly, with a second and third place also receiving a reward, fight, scheme or steal your way to victory!)

Kito Kyber Darth Morta Rin Aikawa Rakaan Horne Drystan Creed Valaine Valentine

 

[Iskera Valest]

The descent was quiet, save for the faint hiss of stabilizers cutting through Nathema's atmosphere. Iskera came for reagents. Flesh, gland, and ichor—the sort of things one could only gather fresh, not from some half-rotted specimen bottled by another hand.

The ramp of her shuttle sank into soil that shivered faintly underfoot. A living carpet, its damp fibers retracted as if the planet itself recoiled at her tread. She paused, cataloguing. Movement of root system. The smell—metallic, faintly sweet. Already she suspected a complex alkaloid base, worth distilling if it could be stabilized. She drew the hood tighter about her head and stepped down without hesitation.

The forest loomed ahead, an organism sculpted by memory and hunger. Branches bent as if to listen, vines slackened and then tightened with a sound disturbingly like breath. To most, it might have felt oppressive. To her, it was an invitation. She whispered to herself, as she often did, as though dictating notes into a journal.

"Mutagenic field saturation… likely comparable to old reports. Floral sector exhibits defensive adaptation. Viable candidates: vascular roots—possible anticoagulant secretions. Faunal sector: voreclaws, predator glands could contain hallucinogen precursors. Target priority established."

Her voice was calm, precise, a scalpel laid across silence.

A satchel hung at her side, its compartments already ordered for storage: cryo-vials, compressed syringes, a collapsible bone saw. Tools, not weapons. For what use was a saber when the world itself offered to bleed for her, if only she knew where to press?

She crouched at the treeline, letting her gloved fingers hover just above a nest of pale fungi whose caps pulsed faintly with inner light. She did not touch. Observation first, always. The spores tasted faintly of rust even at this distance; her tongue pressed to the roof of her mouth in reflex. Hallucinogen, memory-inducing. Useful in trials. Lethal in overdoses. She marked the patch with a subtle rune inscribed into the soil—a reminder for later harvest.

The brush shifted deeper in the woods. A low growl, the cadence of a voreclaw. Its presence was almost a relief. Plant matter could be preserved, dissected, replicated, but beasts carried secret reservoirs of chemistry in motion. One gland could seed an entire series of poisons, once understood. She slid a slender needle-gun from her belt.

She straightened, cloak falling in sharp lines about her frame. Steel-grey eyes with their faint violet sheen swept the path ahead, noting every twitch of branch and whisper of leaf.

The Lost Lysander von Ascania Delsin Shaw Luvaen Malstadt

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Objective One: The Living Jungle
The Lost Iskera Valest Delsin Shaw Luvaen Malstadt
Rifle | Armor
​

The jungle's breath was humid. Curls of bright, damp wheat clung to his skin, framing emerald orbs that pierced through the gloom.

Lysander's freighter had long been swallowed by the inky abyss behind him, as if Nathema and its terrain desired to erase all sign of retreat. Not that there would be any. Unbothered, he pressed forward, a lone figure in obsidian armor that drank the faint light through the dense foliage.

His precision rifle rode across a shoulder while wielding a vibro-machete in one gloved hand. The edges hummed with menace.

In some ways, he was drawn back to his home on Brosi.. more spores than oxygen here. Every single breath drew weight into his lunges, trying to drown him. A strange and.. unsettling mix to be sure. The tang of decay mingled with the sweetness of fungal. Without the protection of a helm, it pressed directly into him, invading his very pores, leaving a foul, bitter taste on the tongue.

Roots unbeknownst to him twisted, writhing like fingers of some grotesque entity. But the blade swept through them, severing with precision that came naturally. Each cut was a violent snap.

The spores, disturbed by this, released faint hisses. Some of them bled with the color of flesh. Others recoiled, twitching back into the soil. Fungal caps pulsed in his shadows.

If he were being honest.. there was even beauty to be found in the hues of violet and green.

Moving cautiously, Lysander knew he wasn't as silent as he should be. His boots dug into the ground, and whispers lingered in the air, suggesting others were watching.. stalking, even. Somewhere deeper came a guttural growl. Perhaps it was more starved than the teen himself.

Whether it was arrogance or fatigue fraying the edges of his mind, he couldn’t say. But he didn’t stop, even if this cruel world wanted to devour his essence.

 

[The Lost]

There was little doubt she noticed it at first. Every step deeper into the woods felt oppressive and wrong, every one of her senses was screaming to go the other way, to turn back now. Death was what awaited her if she kept going. And yet, the Chiss pressed on. Death was what awaited her if she turned back. The Dark Lady suffered no failure.

That's not the reality she'd refused to accept, however. Each slash with her stolen dagger brought a flash of red that was quickly tucked away into the back of her mind. Tucked and stuffed away until she had no choice but to confront it. The vines were bleeding. There was a trail of blood behind her, blood dripping from her knife, from her haphazardly stitched together gloves.

".. Why can't even the forest be normal for once..?" She pleaded under her breath, but the answer was clear as day. There was nothing normal here, and her life was never going to be able to return back to the alleys she'd called home. Why did Iskera Valest have to put that thought into her mind. Worse, why was she so numb to the fact she was covered in blood?

A sigh escaped her as she rubbed her face. Trying to come to terms with what her life was now wasn't a good idea. There were likely other things in these woods that'd be a problem. It was the snap of a brush, a twig, that snapped her out of meloncoly acceptance and reminded her of the dread lingering out of sight. Red eyes snapped over, widened with fear as she held up her dagger.

The voreclaws. Trembling hands tightened further as she crouched low, trying to blend into the mess of bleeding plants around her. Being eaten- that'd be the worst. After all this crap. Teeth gritted as another half muffled footstep got closer, and fear finally gave way to defiance. "Oh kark you, you stupid beast!"

She refused to let herself become a meal. The Lost rushed forward, springing from the underbrush as she brought her dagger straight for the oddly walking on two feet blonde wolf beast.

"Wait- shi-" She was, in fact, much too late to stop herself.

Lysander von Ascania | Iskera Valest | Delsin Shaw | Luvaen Malstadt

 

[Luvaen Malstadt]

Objective One: The Living Jungle
The Lost | Lysander von Ascania | Iskera Valest | Delsin Shaw

Even in his times of dreaming, Luvaen never once imagined a place such as this slithering, conniving hellscape of flora and fauna, chancing upon his every misstep and lack of forethought. He'd never heard any tale, nor read any log detailing an account of what happened to this expanse of hostility. It was as if nightmares were made manifest, as if the word pain itself was spread across the land to curse it with seeds of torment that would grow to become hungry; not for rays of sunlight or the drop of rainwater, but instead blood and the flesh of the unfortunate.

Curses were formed within his mind, but never uttered. His vocal cords forbid it, his tongue unable. Through the Force he emitted his frustration as he trekked through the muck that nearly swallowed him whole a time or two already, his cloak dirtied with a rusty brown that not only smelled of dirt, but left the lingering iron of crimson. His face scrunched behind his helmet as the scent filtered through, pungent and almost dancing upon his lips, nearly tasting the vile air around him.

One lightsaber hissed to life within his right hand, its hilt a crude and jagged metallic rod that had been fashioned from something older as energy spat and cracked from the emitter. A slightly exposed synthetic kyber crystal hummed, its glow a piercing deep red within the dark of the thick foliage and vegetation, the blade itself being swung this way and that as it cleaved through snarled vines and reaching branches. Blood speckled Luvaen's visor, the stink of cauterization and burning coagulation filling the humidity around him.

Alone, he wandered on for a time. Until he could feel he was alone no longer.

Something was watching him, following him. He was prey here.

His skin tightened, goosebumps raised beneath his armor.

A low growl somewhere in the dark.

 

[Heart of Darkness]

The jungle shifted.

Not as wind moved trees, but as if the trees themselves had made a choice. The canopy leaned closer, branches groaning, vines sagging with deliberate weight. Shadows thickened until even glowlamps seemed swallowed whole, their light bent and dulled. The air pressed in, humid enough to coat skin in a clammy sheen, thick with the sweetness of rot. Every breath tasted faintly metallic, as if the forest itself bled into the lungs of those who dared breathe it.

Roots stirred. Long cords of wood twitched like sleeping serpents, uncoiling from the soil as though roused by the tread of boots. A sound followed—a low vibration carried through bark and leaf. Not a roar, not a call, but something deeper, like a pulse beneath the earth. Each step taken was echoed back, a second heartbeat, slower, heavier, mocking.

The first hiss came when a blade or boot cut too deeply into living root. Sap sprayed outward in a fine mist, and its reek was copper and sugar all at once. Where it touched exposed skin, it burned cold, like frost laid suddenly against flesh. Where it struck the ground, smaller roots shivered and recoiled—then stiffened, rigid as spears, angling upward. The ground itself was no longer safe.

And from deeper within, answering the forest's agitation, came the sound all too familiar: a guttural growl that rose into a throaty, animal snarl. The voreclaws were awake. Their cadence was not distant—it was near, far too near. A rustle, a scrape, and then silence. No creature so large should move so quietly. Yet they did.

Iskera Valest would see the fungi ahead pulse brighter, their glow dimming with each vibration in the ground, as though reacting to unseen motion. Lysander von Ascania cut vines bled again, and that blood trickled back into the soil, spreading outward like a signal. The Lost 's dagger was already slick; her breath fogged the air as vines curled toward her knees like eager tongues. Luvaen Malstadt 's saber carved light through the dark, yet in its crimson glow came reflection—eyes. Dozens of them, catching the light for an instant before slipping back into the black.

The voreclaws did not rush. Not yet. They circled. Their movements bent the undergrowth in slow arcs, always out of reach, always just at the edge of sight. One growl became two, then three, then many, overlapping until the sound was everywhere. Branches creaked overhead, as though even the trees leaned in to watch.

Something changed in the air: spores burst, clouds of faint violet drifting down. Their scent was rust, sharp and sweet. Those who inhaled would feel not only their own breath but the phantom sensation of another, hot and close at the back of the neck. The forest whispered, though not in words—just the impression of hunger.

Then, without warning, silence. The growls cut off. Even the branches ceased their groaning. Only the drip of sap from wounded vines marked the stillness.

From that silence, the first voreclaw lunged. Not from ahead, but from the flank, its shape a blur of sinew and fang breaking from the brush. Its strike was not alone. Three more shadows moved in unison, bursting from different angles, claws flashing in the dim.

The forest demanded blood.

 

[Obscura]

// Obscura //
// Objective Two // The Whispering Roots //
// Focus // OPEN //

---

---

The rewards of anonymity had long been reaped by the former Lord Inquisitor, happy for many years tucked away softly in the backwaters of the Galactic Alliance. Her former alliances and ties all having washed away from the woman in her rebirth. With that obfuscation wore away her connection to the force, a slow and quiet death.

Like a muscle it was something that needed to be exerted to be felt, and it had been long since the Echani had even stretched her senses. Yet, something had begun to call even her dulled senses towards the edge of the galaxy. The silver-haired woman's relationship with the force had always been tenuous at best, never feeling the pull of the force the way she knew others had felt.

But this time was different. A whisper, cold and cruel, lulled its way into the ears of the bureaucrat.

The song of Nathema was a soothing lullaby that hadn't graced her ears in many years since she threw away the trappings of a Sith Lord. It was a song hummed to her many times as a child, and now it called out for the woman once again. This time she decided to answer. A small crew would be formed of a few personal soldiers and handmaidens, loyal and disposable as best suit those to the position.

But she would be unable to arrive as her usual presentation.

Anonymity was always a useful tool to be wielded, however, and this mission would be no different. There was no sense in anyone knowing that she would be undertaking this personal mission, and being wrapped and choked by permissions and paperwork didn't suit the Echani for now. And so the woman would don yet another mask as she ventured to the edges of the galaxy.

The ship would land silently near the edge of the canopy, unable to venture any further. A pair of handmaidens would flank their lady as a trio of soldiers followed behind with explosives and equipment necessary to traverse the jungle. No words would permeate the air, all present had their orders and knew that silence would be necessary in such a world. With a quiet hand, the lady urged her followers beside her as she descended into the dark woods below.

 

[Qyssiyana]

Location: Cavern - Nathema
Thread Objective: The Whispering Roots
Mission Objective: Capture the shard.
Tag: Obscura

​

Qyssiyana made her way into the cavern with steady, silent, and disciplined steps, leaving the dense canopy behind in her wake. Her electroreception lit up to paint the blackness in ghostly shades of energy and form. However, it was her smart contacts which fully illuminated it, allowing her gaze to cut through the darkness. All the while, the cavern unfurled before her, revealing a narrow rivulet of dark water that traced a silvered path down its center, leading further into the depths.

With the measured pace of a dancer, Qyssiyana followed its course.

Before long, the trickle widened into a stream, its surface a perfect, obsidian mirror. She knelt at the edge and dipped her fingers into the chilled water. Her triocular gaze fell upon her own reflection, a pale spectre staring back at her from the liquid glass. From there, she lifted her eyes, which widened in concentration as she surveyed the grotto that expanded around her—a cathedral of stone where countless caverns branched into deeper darkness like arteries from a heart.

One of them would lead her to the shard. And even with her lack of sensitivity to the Force, she felt its pull, a silent, resonant thrum in the back of her mind, manifesting as a whisper of power that promised and demanded in the same breath.

She needed only to find which one, and thereafter, stake her claim on its secrets.

Spoiler: Loadout

• Nullsong Veil
  
  • Arms
    
    • Modular Forearm Attachment Point (2)
      
      • FAE/M-02 Energized Forearm Vibroblade Mk. II - L
      • Repulsorlift Shockwave Projector - R
• Moonpetal Rings (4)
• Nox M-10 “Wraith”
  
  • Attachments
    
    • 1-5x FAE/S-08 Electro-Sight
  • Ammunition
    
    • FAE/AM-01-S1 Energy Weapon Cartridge - Tibanna Gas (4)
• FAE/MDE-01-S2 Semiautonomous Seeker Thermal Explosive (2)
• Infrared Smoke Grenade (2)

 

[Veyra Shuun]

Tag: Obscura Qyssiyana
Equipment: in Bio (will add later)

Called to by a desire for power, and frankly because she wanted the treasure she believed to be here, Veyra moved into the caverns armed with her saber and blaster pistol. She breathed in the damp air, eyes widening as she proceeded down into the depths, feeling the throb of the crystal at the edge of her senses.

She was by no means a skilled user, but she was a user nonetheless. That alone gave her the edge that let her stand above the others.

That alone made her worthy. Of course, this was all through her own mind, but that didn’t make the desire any less real in her mind.

In search of greater power, the Zabrak crept down, eager to claim the prize she believed to be hers.

 

[Valaine Valentine]

Objective II - The Whispering Roots
Tags - Obscura (Focus) Qyssiyana Veyra Shuun

Frankly Valaine didn't really have much interest in the ongoing hunts of Nathema, but wherever the Court went so did she. With that in mind she had promptly decided to perch up in one of the trees near the edge of the forest, sit back, and just relax. No doubt after the others on the surface finished their hunt she could just sneak amidst them and pretend like she was always there and glean some of the credit off of them for their hard work.

A gentle sigh escaped the Sangnir's lips as she gazed up towards the canopy, letting the sounds and scents of the forest fill her senses as she aimlessly peered up. And then something passed over the canopy, something rather big. Her tired eyes blinked in confusion as she sat up to try and follow it with her gaze, and it just so happened by chance that it was a ship touching down at the borders of the forest.

She hadn't been told about other attendants to the hunt and so she leaned forward to crawl along the tall branch she was perched upon to get a better view, her pupils constricting into narrow slits as her sight saw the thermal signature of all around her. Six figures emerged from the ship, six she couldn't recognize at all. Her curiosity was peaked and so the Sangnir scrambled on the branch back towards the trunk as she startled to climb down from her vantage point.

Valaine had planned to take this day easy but a group of strangers arriving when the Court was just beginning its proceedings on Nathema? It was too much of a coincidence. The Sangnir touched ground and crept low amidst foliage and roots, her presence in the Force was as always extremely minimal due to her lack of strength within it, and likewise she was ever the subtle sneak-thief that lurked in shadows.

She waited for the group to pass her by as she hid low and then she'd begin to stalk them further down into the forest. Maybe they knew something she didn't...

 

[Kyber]

Equipment: Cloaking Device, 3 lightsabers
Objective 2: Whispering Roots
Tags: Obscura Veyra Shuun Valaine Valentine Qyssiyana

The dark side of the force was an intoxicating thing. It overed power for the simple cost of ones soul, damming them to an existence of misery and pain but for those who were willing to weather that pain then no cost was too big or small. Once again Kyber within the jungle of Nathema felt the siren call of the force seducing him with promises of unimaginable power if only he was willing to claim it. Visions of a cavern filled his mind and Kyber knew within that cavern stood the next step in his rebirth.

Kyber followed to call of force through the jungle followed in toe by two Shadowghoul droids. Kyber and his two pets all would be cloaked as they sneaked pasts the beasts of the jungle. It wouldn't be long until Kyber found the cavern in his visions. He knew that other members of the dark court had came to this planet and most likely others also felt the pull of what ever was hidden within the caverns. Entering the cavern Kyber ensured his guard was up ready to call upon the force at a moments notice in case a voreclaw or something worse would dare interfere with his desire for power.

The cavern was dark which Kyber enjoyed as it made sneaking around so much easier but it also meant he could easily spot any torches or light by others who could not see within the dark confines of the cavern. Before long Kyber heard the sound of running water. Kyber ordered one of the shadowghoul droids to go up ahead and get a visual on the stream..

The droid would run ahead to scout out the stream to confirm of it was safe for Kyber to come to not that Kyber would let a little danger stop him now. For now the Shadowghoul droid had yet to spot Qyssiyana either due to the darkness or her veil or maybe a combination of the two.

 

[Obscura]

// Obscura //
// Objective Two // The Whispering Roots //
// Focus // Valaine Valentine // Kyber // Veyra Shuun // Qyssiyana //

---

---

The fogs of Nathema's jungle were as unyielding as the foliage, burying its secrets in a velvet blanket. But there was still a calling in the chest of the Echani as she pressed forward. A singing in her ears that pushed the woman forwards, or to be more accurate, pushed the men she commanded for her instead.

"Fething plants..."

The soldiers whined as they chopped away at the tangling vines and roots of the jungle, dedicated to obfuscating its secrets away from those without the hunger to chase it. But that wouldn't keep the Echani away from its core. The handmaidens watched carefully to ensure that no beasts ensnared them, and that the riling foliage would stay away from their lady.

Slowly but surely, vibroblades would open the path towards the centre of the jungle. An opportunity offered to seldom few, as dirt gave way to stone and the cavern the Echani had been searching for came into wider view. A younger woman would lack patience and venture forth unconcerned, but as intoxicating as the sensation the forest way, the Echani knew that the dark side was a fickle mistress.

"Set a perimeter before we go in. I would prefer not to be greeted by serpents upon my return."

With a nod, the soldiers would leave their lady's side as she stood near the entrance to the cave, using what abilities of the force remained to her to gain a sense for what was in store. Without a sound, the trio would motion directions to one another, each taking a cardinal away from the mouth of the cavern.

The mist of the jungle would blind them from one another, but they had little choice but to trust in their own eyes to locate the cold blooded predators that would hunt them down. Pushing forward they would attempt to clear about fifty meters, ensuring no surprises awaited their master as she ventured even further into Nathema's depths.

 

[Valaine Valentine]

Objective II - The Whispering Roots
Tags - Obscura (Focus) Kyber Veyra Shuun Qyssiyana

Valaine continued to stalk Obscura's team, silently trailing them from cover of tree, shadow, and mist, shifting silently as a wind upon leaves through foliage and hanging vines alike. The acolyte was studying the group, trying to glean their intention as she noted mentally what was likely the leader of the team, the one flanked by the handmaidens. She watched patiently as they cut through the thick brush in their search for something. Valaine always took the path through the denser unspoiled parts of the forest in her hunt, for following directly in their cut path would plainly leave her too open.

Eventually she was able to follow the group to what appeared to be the mouth of some cavern which opened like an abyssal maw before the forest itself. The young Sangnir noted the increased alertness of the Handmaidens; those women concerned her a lot more than the trio of soldiers did as she ducked lower, slinking just out of view as instead she focused on listening. Her enhanced hearing was ever sharp thanks to her cursed heritage and she could make out the orders given by Obscura.

"Set a perimeter before we go in. I would prefer not to be greeted by serpents upon my return."

This worked well in Valaine's favor; a chance to pick some of the entourage off before she tried to follow them further in. She crept low, sitting on the ground with her back to the base of a great tree as its thick heavy roots hid her on both flanks as the trio of soldiers began to fan out and set up their perimeter. She could hear their trudging steps through the leaves and dirt, moving deeper into the mist. Thankfully such mist didn't prove an issue for her thermal sight and so once the trio had taken up their positions she stood back up from her hiding spot and resumed her hunt.

The young Sangnir crept in the fog once more, a silent wraith stalking its prey. She could see with astounding clarity the heat of the soldier ahead of her who turned and tried peering through the heavy mist. At some points he'd look straight in her direction but she was too far and obscured to notice. With silent deadly steps she advanced further and when she was within striking distance she lunged forward.

Appearing from behind the first soldier she wrapped an arm tightly around his neck as her hand sealed his mouth with silence. Her strength, for her size and stature, was frankly absurd; a boon of her Sangnir nature once more. She dragged the soldier to the ground, cutting off his air, choking him into submission until his body went limp. She didn't strangle the life from him though, a part of the girl was still far too innocent to kill so freely like that.

One soldier down, two to go.

 

[Kito]

//: Objective II //:
//: Target //: //: Obscura //:
//: Kyber //: Qyssiyana //: Veyra Shuun //: Valaine Valentine //:
//: Attire //:

Intel had brought her here. The Dark Court was spreading, and Kito, with her duty, needed to stop it. Something was hidden on the planet, and rumors stirred among the locals of the system. She figured this was the reason for the sudden descent into the jungles.

Exhaling she watched as faces gathered or searched. She wasn't going to expose herself just yet, she needed to assess a few things. Watching from one of the taller trees, she remained hidden in the force and out of sight. It seemed one of the Court members (she's assuming) had brought a group with them.

Interestingly, she hadn't made note of this individual yet, but they were quickly filed away into her mind. Kito watched as commands were given, and she assessed what she could do in the situation. The first thought that came to mind was to light the camp on fire, doing so would force them to focus on putting it out — potentially give her a chance to pick a few off then claim the prize.

Or she could sneak by them.

The blade at her side itched for combat, she had slowed down on her ultimate goal. Her penance. A hand rested on the odachi's hilt as if to calm the beast that it was.

With one light stomp the tree she stood on suddenly burst into flames.

She dropped down and, as she landed near the woman in the mask, flames kicked out from underneath her foot, the blessed odachi drawn and ignited in a white flame.

 

[Luvaen Malstadt]

Objective One: The Living Jungle
The Lost | Lysander von Ascania | Iskera Valest | Delsin Shaw

He could feel it coming his way, the imminence of a mass hurling in his direction with eerie grace and speed. Luvaen jumped back a couple feet, nearly sending himself into the trunk of a tree that he could've sworn hissed at him after he landed near it; saturated soil around it bubbling as if something were locked beneath the loose ground. There were too many variables in this place, too many small things that left one wondering just what it could be, or what was yet to be seen.

The creature that made itself present stared at Luvaen momentarily before rushing him again, and again the darkly clad silhouette dashed away from its jagged claws. Rage poured from the behemoth, not in a sense of defending something of value to it, but out of pure frenzy and possibly even hunger. A kind of hunger that couldn't be satisfied, an unending pit that grew within its gut until all could be fit within the void. The remains of dead, decaying shapes made themselves present as Luvaen took brief glances at his surroundings, thinking on his feet as he sought a moment to focus and steady his method of retaliation.

Broken shells, torn limbs, rotted husks. The stench was now nearly unbearable, bile rising in his throat. There were even visible humanoid bones, skulls and one with a leaking eyeball lazily sitting within a socket.

He could not allow himself to suffer a fate similar to such. He had to fight back.

Producing another hilt from his cloak, Luvaen now engaged the creature with two lightsabers, rushing forward as it did the same. It raised its claws outward to pierce the faceless shadow, yet was met with flashes of bright red as a few quick swipes rendered it without its arms. A terrible screech reverberated throughout the forest, and even more movement could be heard closing in. The giant insect fell backward, thrashing as a torso before a simultaneous stab with both blades brought about its eternal silence.

Sweat beaded beneath Luvaen's helmet upon his face and forehead, he needed to find a better position rather than multitasking and trying to fight every element at once. Anger was in the air, humidity mixed with rage and hunger as the Force poked and prodded at the young man's mind and body. There was much pain that this land had suffered, and now he understood that.

He could not afford to feel afraid. He was an eater of fear itself, drinker of agony.

He would find a way to best this. He would endure all to cross his path.

 

[Darth Morta]

Objective 2: The Whispering Roots
Tags: Kito Kyber Rin Aikawa Rakaan Horne Drystan Creed Valaine Valentine Darth Virelia

Darth Morta had been keeping a quiet eye on Darth Virelia since her exile from the Sith Order. It wouldn't have been the most politically wise move to show open interest in the exiled Sith, Morta had only shown enough of an interest that could be justified as keeping tabs on a potential threat should someone start prying into her business. That being said, Morta had an odd sort of respect for Virelia, so when her fellow Sith began to make moves on Malacor V and now Nathema, planets close to her own holdings, Morta had to slip out and see just what was drawing her to these planets.

Having taken her own ship to Nathema Morta had chosen her landing zone entirely via the force, a location out in the jungles that pulsed in the force with a power unknown to her. Morta put her ship down as if she had not a care in the galaxy, only once she grabbed Oathcarver and stepped down the ramp did Morta wrap the force around her like a cloak on a cold day to hide herself from stray senses.

There were other auras in the jungle, and probably even more that Morta couldn't feel; she'd have to be cautious while finding out why all these darkside users were here.

 

[Obscura]

// Obscura //
// Objective Two // The Whispering Roots //
// Focus // Valaine Valentine // Kyber // Veyra Shuun // Qyssiyana // Kito // Darth Morta //

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The Echani's hand softly traced the mouth of the cavern, roots and vines silently roiled as the dark side coursed through them. A quiet menace penetrated deep into their roots, demanding them to protect the treasure that lay within. As much concern as the Echani felt towards the fauna of Nathema, the fact that the flora could be just as dangerous stopped the woman from pressing forward until she was sure that there would be no surprises behind her.

A silent buzz made its way into the girl's ear as she continued to try to commune with the jungle through the force, to trace the roots to where they lay heaviest in the cavern. The noise interrupted her careful concentration, as the soldiers quietly chimed in.

"North clear."

Nothing would come from directly behind her for now at least, that was some salvation. Being in the jungle made the silver-haired woman uneasy. She would have more liked to simply rush in and out with her prize, but recklessness was death in such a land, especially when much of her skills still needed the rust shaken from them.

"West clear."

The two soldiers slowly worked their way back to the mouth of the cavern, waiting for the final cardinal to be safe as well. Yet that call wouldn't come. The orders that followed wouldn't need to be spoken. Even if it was the fog of the jungle damping communications, they needed to locate their final member. Preferably the man would be alive, but even if he was dead they needed to know how. Killed by the fauna would be simple enough, more caution would be required.

Returning to her focus on the roots of the planet, the woman would be interrupted as she once again attempted to commune with the force energies lying in them. But she would be rudely interrupted by flames licking her sides. Pulling back from the roots, the woman turned and stood in the mouth of the cavern.

"So the serpents come already..."

The two handmaidens were forced from her side to avoid the flames as the woman landed, shielding themselves from the flame before carefully observing the woman and drawing a pair of vibroknives each. Their leader was less aggressive towards the girl, however, for in the brief moment before her hand had been forced from the vine she had noticed something intriguing. As the flames danced against her, they brushed against the roots as well. And in that moment, amongst feeling of menace and intoxication, the Echani could swear she felt... fear.

There were no weapons on the Echani that she could draw, instead forcing herself to rely on her fists and to jumpstart the force abilities she had let go to waste. And yet in that moment, the former Lord Inquisitor once again remembered her favourite of all weapons.

Words.

"Hardly the most pleasant greeting I've ever received." A voice changer released a sardonic wit that would hopefully catch the girl in front of her off guard. The Echani despised fighting unknown opponents above all else. Information was her realm above all else, and right now she knew nothing about the girl except for her apparent love of flame. "You hardly appear to be some jungle child, so I would expect you have at least some sense of decorum, girl."

Using the moment to observe the young woman, the blazing white sober in her hand denoted the woman as some type of force user. It mattered little which kind. The Jedi were more reasonable, of course, but prone to blind zealotry, whereas the Sith were eternally self serving. Her eyes were more interesting than the blade she held, however, a burning red flame. Normally this would be typical of Sith, but looking over the girl once again, the Echani was reminded of a past friend instead. One who's name would hopefully carry less offence than outright asking what master she served.

"Those eyes..." The silver haired woman drew closer to her counterpart, hoping the confidence would carry more weight in the fight than her skills could support. "You wouldn't happened to be related to a woman named Valery Noble would you?"

The handmaidens quietly observed the body language of their mistress, still clinging tightly to their blades yet making no movement to endanger their lady.

 

[Valaine Valentine]

Objective II - The Whispering Roots
Tags (Focus) - Obscura Kito
Tags (Nearby) Kyber Qyssiyana Darth Morta Veyra Shuun

An easy and swift takedown...

But Valaine hadn't anticipated just how quick these soldiers were moving with their orders. Before she could turn to start intercepting the other two they had pulled back nearer the entrance to the cave and now it seemed both of them were coming to look for their unconscious third. Valaine's thermal vision could see them in the distance through the mist, steadily making their way towards her and the sleeping soldier. She slinked back into the denser foliage as she waited for them to get closer.

Taking on two at once would be more difficult for her, she wasn't trained in dealing with blaster fire yet so her main goal was to ensure they simply couldn't get a shot off. She decided then that elevation would serve as her best advantage as she turned to one of the heavy and thick tree trunks as her claws served her well in scaling silently up it. She climbed onto a branch that hung over where she had incapacitated the first soldier and she waited for the two to draw near; he would act as bait.

They would see their fallen comrade, unconscious, and they would have the time to call it in and go and check for vital signs while one stood watch, turning and searching his surroundings cautiously. The young Sangnir decided that he would need to be the one she took out first, the soldier checking the unconscious one wasn't as ready to deal with her as the one keeping guard was.

From the tall branch did she silently fall as she held her fists together and delivered a harsh hammer blow to the top of the watchful guard's head, knocking him unconscious immediately. The sound of the impact and the fall of his body was enough to alert the final soldier however who was able to turn and view his quarry, and even be able to call the contact in over comms before he took aim.

Valaine was quick, far swifter than a regular human should be, but she was untrained. She couldn't rely on deflecting the blaster bolt and so she merely aimed to avoid it as she darted back into the dense brush while he fired off a couple sparking shots that barely grazed her robes, and then more shots into the foliage she disappeared into itself as leaves and vines were burnt and scorched.

The Sangnir knew her cover had been blown, that the soldier had likely called in the encounter already, and so she let caution fly to the wind a little more as she suddenly darted out from the foliage, metallic claws shooting forth from her hands, and then she swung the metallic blades down onto the blaster itself as it was rent asunder in a swift and clean slice. As the soldier stumbled back she pressed forth; the claws retracting back into her hand as she delivered a sharp blow with her fist square to his jaw.

A thud as his form fell to the ground. The three soldiers were incapacitated but no doubt their leader had been alerted; if not over communications then by the blaster fire. It would've been so much easier to just kill them, to have slit their throats, but it simply wasn't that easy for her.

An orange tint lit up the mist as Valaine looked in the direction of the mouth of the cavern to see the one thing she never wanted to see; the glow of fire. It was too far to send her into a panic but it certainly complicated her approach if they were setting fire to the forest. It was perhaps the one thing that could keep her well away from the entrance of the cave; her primal fear of flame.

 

[Drystan Creed]

NATHEMA

"The Dark Court, eh? Alright, I'm down to play."

Drystan sat perched upon a jagged boulder, swallowed by the cavern's lattice of roots, his blade resting at his side. He looked at ease, almost casual, as though he had wandered into the dark with no more concern than one might bring to a quiet tavern. The shard whispered to him, its promises of power lingering in the stale air, but his answer was indifference. He had not come to claim, only to test, to fight, to see where his edge might break and where it might sharpen.

Then the atmosphere shifted.

A pressure began to radiate outward from where he sat, not through voice and word, but through the sheer density of his presence. It was a suffocating weight that pressed down on the cavern, seeping into the air like smoke from an unseen fire. The roots seemed to tremble with it, the stone itself groaning faintly as if under strain.

To those who lingered in the shadows, it was unmistakable: a challenge laid bare. The kind that needed no words. The kind that could be felt in the tightening of the chest, in the sudden heaviness of the limbs, in the instinctual sense that a predator had made itself known.

Drystan remained still, visor tilted slightly forward, the faintest curve of a smile betraying his satisfaction. He did not need to announce himself any further. His presence alone dared any and all who felt it to step forward, whether one or many.

The gauntlet was cast—silent, yet blaring and undeniable.

Obscura Kito Kyber Qyssiyana Darth Morta Veyra Shuun Valaine Valentine | @OPEN

 

[Iskera Valest]

The jungle itself had made its demand, but Iskera did not flinch when the silence broke. She had expected it—the rhythm of the voreclaws' circling, the way the fungi dimmed with every footfall that wasn't hers. To anyone else, it would have been terror. To her, it was a pattern. A living equation she had been waiting to solve.

She did not reach for a saber. Instead, her hand flicked a vial free from the satchel at her hip. It was already primed: a concentrated irritant brewed from spores she had harvested on Denon, cut with distilled paralytic. A crude trial, but she only needed it to buy herself a window. She cracked the seal and cast it low across the soil where the glow-damp roots had been writhing.

The cloud hissed, white meeting violet. A stink of ammonia snapped through the air. One of the lunging beasts hit the edge of the haze first. Its stride faltered mid-leap, jaws clamping shut with a muffled yelp as the chemical tore into its lungs. Iskera had already pivoted, her frame angled like a blade. The syringe-gun in her hand was not meant to kill, but its dart found muscle just beneath the ribcage of another voreclaw, sinking quicksilver into its bloodstream.

Her voice was steady, clinical, as if dictating notes in real time:

"Respiratory distress onset immediate. Paralysis vector effective—limb seizure within four breaths. Third specimen shows resistance. Possible adrenal counteragent."

Her cloak snapped as she slid aside from claws raking too close to her torso. The third beast's momentum carried it into a sap-bleeding trunk, its shoulder gashing open as wood and flesh both screamed. She noted the color of its blood—dark, nearly black—and the way it thickened as it touched the ground. A coagulative property. Perhaps useful.

Even as her boots sank into soil that seemed to pulse beneath her, she moved without panic. Her dagger, slender and precise, appeared in her hand. She did not slash wildly. Every cut was for a purpose: nicking a tendon, opening a gland, exposing a vein just enough for the collector's vial to be pressed to it.

The chorus of growls swelled, but so too did her calm. This was what she had come for, the specimen. Reagent. Proof.

One beast collapsed fully, limbs twitching in chemical lock. She knelt beside it, already sliding a scalpel free. Its eyes rolled, foam flecking at its jaw, but she pressed the blade to the seam of its throat with tender exactness.

"Target the following: gland, posterior mandible. Get me a sample."

She cut clean, vial filling with the dark ichor that hissed faintly where it touched glass. The second voreclaw roared, snapping at her shoulder, but she leaned just out of reach, unhurried, and capped the specimen before slipping back behind a tangle of bleeding roots. She was so lost in her own world, she forgot the crowd around her.

The forest had demanded blood. Very well. It would bleed for her, drop by drop, until every secret was bottled.

The Lost Luvaen Malstadt Lysander von Ascania Heart of Darkness