First Reply The Vines that Bind

[Quinton Vorn]

One Charming Jungle Evening...​

Location: Dathomir
Time: Early-Evening
Weather: Torrential Rain

The perpetual rain storm that hammered on the rooftops of the rural Dathomiri outpost provided a fulfilling and relaxing aura to the Cantina that Quinton found himself comforting a small glass in. His drink, a 'Sarlacc Surprise', was a fruity concoction with a small, yet poignant, shot of something that was enough to perk him from a frustrating boredom.

He'd been at the Outpost for hours with around another day's travel away from the ritual site that he came across in an old record back on Corellia a week ago. The price to obtain such knowledge was the small bribe of a fine vintage to one of the Public Administration officials that oversaw the dockyards – allegedly hearing it from a squabbling pair of pirates in the Spaceport Cantina there. A small lead, but Quinton was used to chasing far more on far less and this was one of his first personal projects to look into.

He'd managed to obtain passage with relative ease, but found that once he was planetside on Dathomir, it was a local Bounty Hunter that provided him with a small speeder trip to outpost he found himself in. Apparently, this Hunter was a regular around the system, given that many thought it easy to slip off the radar in the jungle. Somehow, Quinton imagined there were far less hostile places that someone could accomplish the same result. Rancors weren't good neighbours after all.

The Cantina offered respite from the road and some company. The travelling mercenaries that accompanied the Ithorian barkeep left Quinton alone, as he, adorned in his normal travelling clothes, black cloak and signature boots, made himself comfortable on a stool. He ordered whatever the Barkeep hadn't made in some time and provided some loose credit chits as payment. He'd smirked when the translator around the alien's neck provided him with the name of the drink. Quinton kept his motives and intentions to himself – anxious to ensure his sought-after prize was not snatched by anyone else, but eager to seek someone with knowledge of the system to assist with finding the hidden temple.

The irony of his silence to seek knowledge was not lost on the man, who continued to observe the occasional speeder pass on the adjacent roadway. The patter of the rain storm outside continued to relaxingly thump away, as his mind wandered to other places.

 

[Laphisto]

The door gave a low mechanical hiss as it opened, spilling a sheet of rain and cold air into the tavern. Laphisto stepped through, broad shoulders framed against the downpour, the dull glow of Dathomir's crimson sky cutting briefly across his armor before the door sealed behind him.

He rumbled under his breath, the kind of sound born from long days and too many unanswered questions. Wiping the rain from his brow with the back of his hand, he looked every bit the man who'd had his fill of this planet's babble, mysteries, and consequences. The witchcraft, the storms, the whispers in the fogit all blended into one endless irritation.

With a small huff, he strode to the bar, leaving faint wet prints in his wake. The Ithorian barkeep glanced up, eye stalks narrowing at the sight of his gear. Laphisto didn't bother with pleasantries. "Something strong," he muttered, sliding a few chits across the counter. "Whatever burns on the way down."

The barkeep gave a low warble of acknowledgment and turned to mix the order. Laphisto exhaled through his nose, pulling off one of his gauntlets to flex his hand as if the act alone might shake off the weight of the day. The smell of spice, oil, and wet durasteel filled the room.

When the drink came, he took it without a word one long sip, a quiet growl of approval. Then he pinched the bridge of his nose and activated the communicator inset in his vambrace."Copy that, Captain," he said, his voice low but steady over the hum of background static. "Good work getting the ship in the air before the storm hit. Once it clears, I'll send you my coordinates, and we can be rid of this dreadful place. I've had enough of Dathomiri witch magic for one trip and we didn't even find what we came here for to begin with."

He ended the transmission with a muted click, the faint reflection of the hololight fading across his visor. Leaning forward on the bar, he let out a breath through his teeth and set the empty glass down beside him. The rain outside was relentless, hammering against the tin roof like a war drum.

For a long moment, he simply sat there, listening to the storm, to the crackle of the old holo-jukebox in the corner, to the murmur of other travelers pretending not to stare. His gaze drifted toward the far end of the counter, where a solitary man nursed a vivid drink that looked far too cheerful for a place like this. Something about him his stillness, the way his eyes never truly rested spoke of a purpose not unlike his own. and as he staired he let the force flow over his eyes a golden crimson color filled them as he then peered at the man. not with sight but through the force pulling at there alignment to it

Quinton Vorn

 

[Quinton Vorn]

Quinton's untrained and naivety with his connection to the force meant that he was blissfully unaware of the eagerly searching eyes that glazed over him. To those learned in the cosmic art, he'd appear to be a fairly neutral entity, but with a streak of a darkness - as if poised on the edge of a precipice and ready to unleash itself. It was as if the aura of the man was eager to learn and grow - ambitious, but not yet sinister.

The man himself took another sip of his drink - finishing the glass. He gracefully placed the empty object on the bar with a clink and stretched his back out for a moment. He'd been stationary for too long, but his ears had perked up at the sound of the oncoming patron.

'A local connection,' he thought to himself, 'Potentially a way to learn.' He turned slowly to review the figure also stationed at the countertop and offered a slight, friendly smirk.

"Pardon my eagerness, but I couldn't help hearing you mention Dathomiri witch magic?" He'd ask, his voice attempting to mask his standard indifference with a welcoming tone - a gift he'd learnt from years of corporate trade, "Perhaps you'd entertain a traveller with the road with some tales?"

Laphisto

 

[Laphisto]

Laphisto let the faint shimmer of the Force drain from his eyes, the subtle glow fading into tired amber. A dull ache pressed behind them, and he winced, bringing two fingers to the bridge of his nose as if steadying himself against a headache that refused to leave him. The storm outside roared against the walls, a distant rumble of thunder echoing his mood.

He drew a slow breath, exhaling through his nose before turning toward the stranger beside him. The man's voice had been polite curious, even but there was something else underneath it. Something searching. Laphisto's gaze lingered a moment longer than was comfortable, studying him in silence before a low, gravelly chuckle rolled from his throat. "Perhaps," he said, voice carrying that worn edge of exhaustion. "But what's your interest in such magicks beyond your Force sensitivity, of course?"

The question hung in the air for a moment, half a test, half a warning. Laphisto turned slightly on his stool, one arm resting across the counter while the other idly traced a line along the condensation on his glass. The gesture was calm, deliberate the movement of a man too used to seeing others wander into danger chasing something they didn't understand.

He frowned faintly, shaking his head. "Dathomiri magicks aren't like the Force," he continued, his tone taking on the cadence of someone who'd explained this before and grown weary of doing so. "They don't flow through you they bind you. Their power comes from bargains, blood, and will. The witches twist the natural order until it listens, and it always listens… but it never forgets who made the demand."

He took another sip of his drink, eyes still on the man beside him, voice lowering just enough to be heard over the storm's hiss. "Don't go thinking they'll grant you a shortcut to power, or a way around real training. The Force teaches balance; magick consumes it. And once you give a part of yourself to that kind of power…" His eyes flicked up, meeting Quinton's squarely. "You don't always get it back."

Quinton Vorn

 

[Quinton Vorn]

Quinton eye'd the figure with a hint of surprise emanating around the lining of his aura. He noted the analytical gaze of the patron and the gravel edge of his tone. He'd not yet met anyone that outright spoke about his sensitivity and, certainly, not someone that could identify that same quality in others. He knew they existed, obviously, and was well travelled enough to have come across rumours and murmurings but nothing as concrete as the last minute of his life.

As the rain pounded upon the durasteel exterior, his mind raced back to the current situation and the figure stationed there. He had to react accordingly - it wasn't as if he was hiding his nature, simply that it had never been a good thing to raise previously.

The information offered by the stranger was news to his ears. He swivelled the remainder of his person around and regard the individual fully and, with a much more grounded tone provided his response.

"Interesting…" He stated simply, allowing the pause and words to rest somewhat, "You'll forgive me, I'm not accustomed to others advising me of my…Sensitivity." He looked around the room, his persona dropping for a moment, as he scanned potential other patrons that could become threats.

"Power?" He smirked, "Of a sort, though not the kind I imagine would be typical. No, friend, the power I seek is simply knowledge. Understanding and education in order to…Learn more about myself and my own place in the galaxy."

Quinton nodded once again at the bartender and, with ease, another vibrant drink was produced. He tilted his head at the stranger with a hint of his normal, non-masked voice coming in.

"Perhaps I do not know the extent to which one can manipulate the world around you with such learned abilities, but please do not take my intentions as anything more than orientated to the world of study and the theoretical. It seems like you'd offer such understanding without me stepping forth into the wilds though, no?" He laughed, obviously jesting with the stranger.

Laphisto

 

[Laphisto]

"My apologies for intruding," Laphisto said, voice low but steady. "I sometimes forget that others can't see the world the way I do." He reached for his glass, taking a slow drink before turning fully to face the stranger. "A fellow scholar, then? it's good we've crossed paths. But be wary of where you express that hunger for knowledgeespecially around those tied to the Light or the Dark."

A faint growl edged into his tone as he shook his head. "If a Jedi catches wind that you're studying Dathomiri magicks, they'll likely have you arrested—or worse. They don't take kindly to anyone walking outside their lines. And don't think the Sith are any more welcoming," he added, setting his glass down with a dull clink. "They prize knowledge, yes but only the kind they can control. If they think what you've learned threatens their hold on it, they'll take it from you, one way or another. To them, students are tools until they stop being useful."

Laphisto shook his head softly, gaze settling back on the stranger. "But as is the price this galaxy seems to pay," he murmured. "I've been around for a few thousand years, and the one thing I've learned, lad, is that knowledge is the strongest power you can wield." He turned his glass in his hand, watching the liquid catch the faint light. "But power without direction? That's just lightning in a bottle. It burns bright for a moment, then fades taking everything around it with it."

The edge of his mouth curved into a faint, knowing smile. "You've got that spark. The curiosity, the hunger to understand. That's rare. Most people either smother it or let it consume them." Laphisto leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to something more deliberate the quiet tone of someone offering more than words. "There's a place I know of, a place where knowledge isn't a crime, and curiosity isn't something to fear. They don't care whether your studies lean light or dark only that you use what you learn with purpose."

He took another sip, setting the glass down with a soft clink. "They're builders, explorers… soldiers, too, when they must be. But above all, they believe in freedom of thought in understanding the galaxy instead of bowing to it." A pause lingered between them, broken only by the rhythm of the rain. Then Laphisto added quietly, "If that sounds like the kind of place you've been searching for, I could see about getting you there. No strings. Just an honest start."

Quinton Vorn