Private The Witching Hour

[Kaila Irons]

It was late in the night after an eventful Memoria Festival, the grounds having since closed and the nearby sith church locked for the time being. Kaila stood alone outside the shrine, golden eyes shining in the utter darkness as she stared up at the full moon. A lot had happened earlier that day, and there was much to consider. She and Tamsin Graves had discovered much about the spirit who had attached itself to the girl, and now it seemed that witchcraft may be involved. There were big things in store for them, Fate had decreed it so, whether they liked it or not.

Yet Kaila was no witch. There were no answers to glean from her mind no matter how many tomes she owned.

She sighed at the thought, her breath turning to mist in the cool night air. Perhaps it was best not to dwell on such things, after all these small hours of the night were some of the only peaceful moments left to sith like herself. It was hard to explain, but seeing the moon so large overhead, despite it's daunting size, brought a certain comfort to her. The city lights drowned out all starlight, but at this time of year, the moon refused to go unseen, a piece of cosmic nature enduring even as the works of man tried so desperately to overtake all. She was no moon, and she could never quite tell if this affinity towards nature was a memory trying to resurface despite her injury or simply a desire to escape from the claustrophobia of imperial servitude, but she derived a strange sense of courage from lunar objects wherever she found them. They were beaten by meteors, their surface often left barren and, like her, shackled by an oppressive gravity to the long shadow of grander things. And yet they endured, in their own way.

She looked down at the lightsaber in her hand, tracing her thumb over the red nightsister wrappings which crisscrossed over the hilt, wondering it's maker once thought similarly of the full moon when it shone over Dathomir.

Had they too taken inspiration from the stone resolve of the moon as she had? Had it too been weaved to clothe a soldier against fate, just as the cloak about her shoulders, or the cortosis mask cradled in her other arm? Kaila smiled softly, looking back up at the moon. She liked the idea of a people who, despite the efforts of sith and jedi alike throughout history, endured even now despite these hardships. If they could do this, perhaps she and Tamsin could survive in this harsh new world themselves.

Perhaps she would meditate on it amidst the chilled air of this perfect night.

Darth Moskvin

 

[Darth Moskvin]

XXX​

Gear: Staff of the Damned / Talisman of the Witch / Magical Gems / Fainne na Biotaille / Staid Athraithe / Basic Lghtsabers x2
Familiar: Archimedes
Tags: Kaila Irons​

As I perched atop a roof ledge near the shrine, I struggled to expel the taste of bitterness from the day's events. If I was the gambling type, the odds of victory on this horrendous day were fifty - fifty. Fifty in favor that Fate had found it endearing to drag that poisonous traitor into my path, where once my progeny now lay strewn in a dark alley, the headless corpse of vengeance sated. Had memory resurrected itself earlier as I fed, I would have bled her dry, watching the embers of her life slowly extinguish from fear-stricken eyes. Though, killing her didn't have the desire effect as I dreamt it would, but murder as many as I have, and you risk losing the thrilling sensation from time to time.

The other fifty was unfavorable, a complete disaster by no other name. My severed head offering to Ajunta Pall fell on deaf ears. My dark hero, my idol, my love had saw fit to leave me standing at the altar, quite literally, and I was crushed like a child's dream. The anger I felt dripped like venom from a retracting dagger from flesh, had I been a lesser based monster with morals, I would have gone Warform and laid waste to the shrine and to the memory of the dead Lord, but that is what Archie is for, my conscience of reasoning and patience. Speaking of that fowl, where was he? Through our connection, I sought him out and discovered he was hovering around the detestable church whose structural arms cradled that shrine like its newborn baby. Oh, I loathed that place!

But wait, what do our eyes spy, but an individual who seems captivated by, something? Whilst Arcie swooped down to perch himself upon one the church's arches, I saw this individual was female and holding a well-crafted lightsaber with.....Nightsister wrappings! My black heart spit in two. One half in feverish pitch of joy at the prospect of another Sister amongst these ranks of Sith, one half in feverish pitch of adult rated murder at the prospect those wrappings were claimed by the death of a Sister. We were going to challenge this girl for answers.

Like the Fanged God himself, I descended from above to the world of mortals and marched toward this girl, my staff signing echos throughout the cold, dark night that something wicked this way comes. "You, girl," I said drawing closer, my vampiric eyes shimmering with their undead golden hue, "Your lightsaber, one simply doesn't appropriate such sacred wrappings in any stores I'm aware of. So, either you stolen them or you murdered for them. Either way, they do not belong in the hands of one that is not a Nightsister. To take from us is judged under the penalty of death."

 

[Kaila Irons]

The crisp night air was soured in an instant by the voice of a woman Kaila did not recognize, cold against her ear as the youngest darth of this new age spun towards the source, silken cloak whipping behind her as she faced down this older power.

Golden eyes met gold in kind, widening, then narrowing.

"To take from us is judged under the penalty of death."

A nightsister? Here? Gloved fingers wrapped tightly around the lightsaber on instinct.

There were few practices that the ever studious apprentice of Darth Carnifex did not have satisfactory experience with, and the witches were one of those rare exceptions. But she knew well enough to be wary of their magicks.

"Then I have played well the part of Executioner" she said with equal parts fear and pride, her observant stare never parting from the witch.


"Beyond the thorny swamps of Dathomir, dug into a cliffside reclaimed by nature, there lay a tomb. Not Dathomiri, but a Sith tomb, a monument to the obsessions of a wraith. A thing that perverted the land, harassed the local clan. I have since dispatched the spirit, and it is from his now empty tomb that I claimed these wrappings, and the crystal therein"

With her thumb, she tapped the enclosed casing of the crystal's housing.

"A memento of victory, yes, but not over your sisters. I have carried out the sentence which they could not"

She had heard the Witches of Dathomir could be reasoned with, not often as adverse to cooperation as other Sith might be, and she hoped it were true. There was reason to believe it of course, Pom Stych Tivé of the Wanica Coven often worked with her lord and master often. If this one was on Jutrand, then she too must surely work with sith. Perhaps then, her story may be of interest to the witch.



Darth Moskvin

 

[Darth Moskvin]

"Death Has But One Terror, That It Has No Tomorrow"​

​

My gaze, that of Death incarnate, had cast an invisible spell, leeching itself to the soul of this girl, and feasting like a gluttonous pig as she spoke. I didn't possess the physical structure, though I am tall for my age, or muscular mass to impose intimidation onto anyone, especially another Sith. I rely on the greatest weapon a Sith or any monster could wield, and I did it with complete perfection: fear.

From my near tattered garments resembling that they were once laid to rest in a coffin and stolen with dark happiness, to my alabaster white skin symbolizing the corpse of Death's touch, to my lips stained with dried blood from tonight's earlier feeding, to my shadow's refusal to dance under the full moon light, to my barring fangs dripping with angered saliva, I am the story of nightmares, the boogeyman little children fear living under their bed and opt to drench themselves in the safe haven of their warm, cozy beds over risking my outstretched hand grasping their innocent ankles, dragging them under into the throes of darkness as they attempt to flee to relieve themselves in the proper accommodations.

Strangely I discovered as her words flew from her mouth, and I could begin to hear the weaving of her tale drawing to a close, I sensed no deception from this girl. Words and even the Force could be manipulated to prove one's truthful or untruthful nature, but body language never lies. Even as she held her saber hilt tight in her hand, her body remained calm and relaxed, easing even as she spoke from her heart, and I too slowly resided back into my concept of normalcy. "'Which they could not'", I uttered the words back to her. Dathomir was changing, and this change I long suspected was infecting the Covens and Clans. If a mere outsider did what they could not, more likely would not, was a testimony to the stirrings of troubled times ahead.

"Painful as it is to utter such horrendous words, you have my thanks. But I am curious and so is Archie," I said pointing up to the Raven starring down upon us, "Why are you standing out here in front of this wretched structure in the cold of night? And more importantly, who are you?"

Kaila Irons​

 

[Kaila Irons]

It was true, and a bitter truth at that, but Kaila was glad to see that the witch saw it as such. With so many warring factions having touched Dathomir's red shores in such a short span of time, and so many clans having turned away from the dark powers of the fanged god practiced by the nightsisters, in favor of the light espoused by children of Allya, more and more clans left upon the fringes had been left ill equipped to handle such dark powers.

But Kaila knew that the dark side flourished in chaos. There were other covens, small perhaps, but growing far more powerful in such trying times.

She just needed to find them.

A silent sigh of relief came over her, known only by the cool fog it produced. All the while her ironclad grip on her lightsaber loosened as did her shoulders, although the weapon remained in hand. Trust was in short supply on Imperial worlds, and though she afforded this figure a taste, they would have to earn one another's before it could be freely given.

She gave the raven a quick glance as it was pointed out, reminding her of Taeli Raaf 's winged form, a sign of dark magick and secrets therein. Was this one also a humanoid in disguise? One had to wonder, considering it may be curious as the woman says.


"I am Darth Anathemous," she would greet the woman with a nod rather than question, although her head never bowed low enough to take her eyes off the witch.

"Military Governor of Echnos, Apprentice to Darth Carnifex"

It was unusual for Kaila to openly state her "Allegiances", but just this once it was a deliberate move. If this witch knew of the Kainate or the previous Sith Empire out of Dromund Kaas, than she might know of the Wanica Coven and their wise Night Mother who had allied themselves with her master Carnifex long before Kaila was even sith. To this very day The Kainites, for all their faults, were still the only true allies of Dathomir among the sith.


"I am here to enjoy a moment of quiet away from the politics which i've become embroiled in as of late" she admitted with an embarrassed sigh.

"And perhaps to meditate on my findings within the church during the festival earlier"

Kaila jut her chin towards the "wretched structure".
"I find it easier to do so among what little nature exists in the city. The church keeps a garden, you see"

"...you?"



Darth Moskvin

 

[Darth Moskvin]

"Death Has But One Terror, That It Has No Tomorrow"​

​

On sign of acknowledgment from the quick glance, Archie fluttered down resting on my right shoulder, as if he had context to add to the conversation. He squawked a couple of times, then grew silent as I began to feed him scrapes of flesh whilst I listened to the girl. Her name was unfamiliar to me as many Sith were, but I had heard of this Darth Carinfex, once in passing, I think. My adopted Father was an exiled Sith Lord, which I believe he was actually fleeing rather than sent away, had taught me about the Sith; that they were not to be trusted and always be wary of them. Imagine how broken his dead heart must beat now knowing I have become the very thing he preached against.

"Well," I began gesturing my own chin at the church, "I thought perhaps through some twisted and maniacal religious act that I could meet my dark prince, my unholy love, the essence of my desire tonight. Only to find myself shunned and left here rethinking this fable called love. Somewhere there was a lesson to be learned, but I'm not good with orders and lessons learned. So, tonight was nothing short of a cruel twist of Fate, but even Fate suffers her dark moments."

Extending my right arm out, Archie hopped down my limb resting on my clenched fist. "This is Archimedes, Archie for short. He is different than most ravens, he was created to be my familiar, now he's my only friend and I his. We have a connection, he and I, that unless one understands Dathomir magic, will never fathom; so, people think I'm crazy for talking to a bird and listening to a bird talk back. That is not why I'm crazy."

"And I, pretty lady," I said with a curtsy and a grim smile, "Go by many names, to the Sith I am Darth Moskvin, to the Nardithi Nightsisters I am Clíodhna and to one particular Sith Lord Darth Nexion I am called Lady Death; only because I've yet to indulge him with my name. And we come to another question, what do you know about the Nightsisters? Clearly you have chosen to be their champion banishing the spirits of the demented."

Kaila Irons​

 

[Kaila Irons]

She looked upon the witch with raised brows, unsure whether to be intrigued or concerned at being called "pretty lady" by a witch who may wish to steal her youthful face just as soon as feel attraction toward it.

Then again it wouldn't be the first time she'd risked a little danger to find out, if she were to test her boundaries.

Though it seemed this Clíodhna had questions of her own, and certainly valid ones at that. To those who did not know of her, Anathemous was but a trespasser, or worse, a bloody cosplayer carrying a relic she did not understand. It was only right that the witch should want for more solid information, even if one could argue the same of this witch at first glance. There were few witches left who openly dealt with sith after all, let alone took the name Darth for their own. Darth Moskvin was certainly the first which she had encountered to do so, not even the enigmatic Sith Brotherhood's own witches used the titles of her enigmatic kin.

"Much as I might wish this to be true, Lady Moskvin, I am no champion of Dathomir, and I know far less than I'm comfortable with, but enough to know better than to lie to a witch" she chuckled, sitting atop the stone railing.

"I was sent by my sith master to locate the tomb for it's secrets, as have dozens of occult scholars before me. Your kindred seemed more interested in sending me away than in teaching me nor involving themselves with the spirit. Most of what I know comes from the wraith's own studies, and observing the Wanica Coven who've allied themselves to my master. Although I'm afraid I know little else, save perhaps that familiars, such as yours," she gestured to Archie "Are common enough to be unsurprising. I once met a witch with a crystal fox, although she was no Nightsister. Aside from this? The only thing I'm certain is that I wish I knew more, and that your people are, understandably, hesitant to teach outsiders"

"On the subject of things I do not know, What are Nardithi Nightsisters? Are they different from other dark covens in some way?"
She asked with genuine intrigue, like a child asking about characters from a fairy tale.



Darth Moskvin

 

[Darth Moskvin]

"Death Has But One Terror, That It Has No Tomorrow"​

​

"Outsiders are sorely frowned upon by my sisters, with very good reasons to do so," I replied. It was well documented that the Witches of Dathomir had suffered greatly over their legendary history, from the Hutts to the Jedi to the Sith to the Clone Wars and through the Dark Times. "Most of the Covens rather chastise an outsider rather than help, for you see pretty lady, outsiders come to Dathomir to take and steal, and when the Covens defend our planet, we are the evil ones, the bloodlust barbarians come to eat their children and enslave their people. So, it's no surprise they would not aid you, even against an evil spirit."

"Come, let us walk. This church makes me feel wickedly uncomfortable," I said motioning us to move through the deserted streets. "You ask about the Nardithi Coven, an interesting topic that lot is. Very solitude, very unpredictable, very unique, and very much the apex Coven on Dathomir if you ask any Nightsister from the Nardithi. Strong in the Dark Side they are, hauntingly dangerous, hated by all the Dathomir Nightsister Covens; and rightfully so."

There were many reasons why the Nardithi Nightsisters were viewed with hatred by the other Covens, but only one real reason stood out among them all; they were traitors to the title Nightsister. "Not to bore you with history, but a brief introduction to why they are hated so. During the time of Imperial occupation during the reign of the Empire, the Nardithi Nightisters helped the Sith Inquisitors hunt down any Jedi or Force adept hiding on Dathomir; both groups having strong ties with the Dark Side. But when the Imperials began targeting the Dathomir Covens for workers or to punish them for harboring Force adepts or Jedi, the Nardithi betrayed their sisters and aided the Imperials and Inquisitors in their conquest for promises of the Coven not being molested by Imperial laws. That is ancient history now, but the memory will always be fresh in the minds of the other Covens."

"As for being different than the other dark covens," I said stopping briefly, "Is only an answer you must obtain by seeing for yourself, in person. They are different in many ways." I picked up where I left in my steps, leading the girl through dark, cold streets haunted by the silence of emptiness. It seems tonight's events had worked its own dark magic and lulled everyone to sleep in a collective spell, leaving only the two of us awake; like it was destined by those hags of Fate.

"I sense an aura of curiosity surrounding you, which is good. Curiosity leads to knowledge and of course, blah, blah, blah power. My former Master preached that mantra until his dying breath, I still smile when I recall his horror-stricken face when I struck him down without warning. I do love the politics of the Sith," chuckling as I said the last part. I'm a simple creature, and I find humor in the most twisted and darkest of things. "If you ever want to chain and torture away that curiosity about Dathomir or the Nightsisters, you only need to ask. I am but your tour guide through the lives of the Witches of Dathomir."

Kaila Irons​

 

[Kaila Irons]

"...eat?" the young darth quirked a brow.

She knew of the clone wars, or that Mandalorians and various empires had set armored foot upon Dathomir repeatedly in her own lifetime even if she had not witnessed it herself, but in all her research she'd never heard of anyone outright eating Dathomiri young. Then again, she was far from an expert and lived on the opposite side of the outer rim.

Who was to say the witch was wrong? she certainly wouldn't.

And it was this understanding and the desire to become more familiar with the planet which had fascinated her of late which spurred her to follow the witch as beckoned, hesitantly sliding down from the railing and trailing the mysterious figure in silent footsteps, her full bodyglove serving in lieu of loud footwear, alluding to the sith's line of work.

Admittedly she was still wary of the witch as they walked, but Clíodhna had tapped into the woman's insatiable curiosity, which had seen her follow others into even more perilous places than an empty street in the night. And oddly quiet at that. The only sound was her voice, to which she listened intently.

"Not to bore you with history, but a brief introduction to why they are hated so."

"I think you'll find me most entertained by history, Darth Moskvin" she said with a feint smile, hands clasped behind her back as she followed in a more casual pace, taking the time to soak up every drop of information.

Even so, this tale of the Nardithi clan seemed one of tragedy. While certainly a bloody, untrustworthy history, Kaila wondered why the Dathomiri seemed so slow to forgive. The events being described were, if she recalled, nearly a thousand years prior to the night. Perhaps then it was a betrayal on such a scale that they simply couldn't, a treachery akin to her own master's betrayal of Mandalore, and the near extinction of it's people.

This would be a valuable lesson to remember, if she hoped to make more expeditions to Dathomir.

"I sense an aura of curiosity surrounding you, which is good. Curiosity leads to knowledge and of course, blah, blah, blah power. My former Master preached that mantra until his dying breath, I still smile when I recall his horror-stricken face when I struck him down without warning. I do love the politics of the Sith," chuckling as I said the last part. I'm a simple creature, and I find humor in the most twisted and darkest of things. "If you ever want to chain and torture away that curiosity about Dathomir or the Nightsisters, you only need to ask. I am but your tour guide through the lives of the Witches of Dathomir."

She held her chin a little higher, taking pride in her own inquisitive nature which had seen her prevail where the previous students of Carnifex had failed, and now only she remained. It was good to hear it recognized even if briefly, given it was such a rare occurrence. However, Clíodhna had a very pointed way of speaking that her wondering if the woman were simply so arrogant that she just didn't give a damn what anyone thought or if she were simply insane.

Strangely, she preferred the latter option to mere arrogance.

"I will admit that I am most curious of your people indeed, and for good reasons. Although, I am also curious to know why you are not among them? Jutrand is so far, and Sith so different."

"But most of all," she stopped, tilting her head with a confused look

"I wonder why you would offer your time to educate an outsider? considering your sisters would not be so... generous."



Darth Moskvin

 

[Darth Moskvin]

"Death Has But One Terror, That It Has No Tomorrow"​

​

When my walking companion stopped, as if we had miraculously choregraphed our moves like a macabre dance routine, I halted my steps. This fellow Sith had posed two very educated questions to me, which I felt just a tinge of excitement someone was curious about me, considering most avoid me like a festering wound, suiting me perfectly, and affording me the cold comforts of anesthesia for those around me. "Very good questions."

"There is no great mystery to unravel, no corpse to dissect to understand why I'm not among my Sisters," I said with a sheepish grin, the tips of my fangs slightly exposing themselves. "See, I wasn't born on Dathomir, in essence I was once an outsider. After the death of my adopted Father and the disappearance of my adopted Mother, I roamed aimlessly on Dathomir feasting on animals or unwary travelers. The Nardithi discovered me and let's say I had to prove my worthiness to the Night Mother which was hundreds of years passed now, I think. Unlike most of the Nightsisters, I am not tethered to Dathmoir, and thus I'm free to go as I please. And naturally I ended up among the ranks of the Sith moving up the proverbial power structure"

There was a bit of lie to my story. I promised myself after everything my adopted Father taught me about the Sith that I would be their ruination. They exiled him, essentially leading to his tragic death on Dathomir; revenge was a corpse best fed warm, so I believed at the time. I infiltrated their ranks, learning their infrastructure and codes and philosophies; secretly taking the lives of my rivals at the academy. Nobody bats a crying eye when a Sith Hopeful dies, they just rule it as a sign of weakness as the old academy overseer use to say, 'The weak are made to serve the strong'. But my revenge turned to curiosity and my curiosity turned to, well something along the bloody trails of loyalty. I became what my Father despised, and I have no regrets I walk the path of the mighty Sith.

"As for your second question, I already mentioned I was once an outsider too, and I believe I mentioned the Nardithi are different. They were formed from exiles and refugees of Coven wars," I paused to toss another scrap to the bottomless pit of a bird, "And unlike those other Covens with their strict and overbearing rules and regulations, the Nardithi pride themselves in warrior castes and sorcery; thus, will welcome an outsider into their Sisterhood if they prove themselves worthy of being called Sister. Which leads me back to my offer of educating you, pretty lady."

"As for my time, when you haunted the galaxy as long as I have.....well time really has no place for me," I concluded with a sinister chuckle.

Kaila Irons​

 

[Kaila Irons]

Were those fangs she spotted? Kaila had been encountering more fanged sith lately, from ever strange Darth Keres , fledgling God of dead Yalara, to her attempted assassin whose alarming speed she secretly envied despite his clear failure to slay her. If Darth Moskvin were anything like the others, then she was strong and dangerous, and whatever they were, it was surely worth investigating in due time.

Nevertheless, she remained close by and listened carefully, cautiously trusting that her powers would keep her safe, or at least carry her away if things took a turn for the worst. Besides, she was already learning new things.

The sith witch's tale was enough to tug empathy from the depths of the young darth's heart, at least a little, causing her to nod slowly. Her own parents were nowhere to be found, nor could she possibly remember their faces nor even names. Although she had recently been made aware as to why, and it had given her even more reason to distrust the sith, particularly her master and all those affiliated with him. Save perhaps for Pom Stych Tivé and her coven, who had always treated her fairly, and whom she planned to speak with as soon as her duties left pause enough for another expedition to Dathomir.

Still, there was so much she didn't know about her nor the other Nightsisters. And if Moskvin was old enough to have speak with a Night Mother hundreds of years ago, then she wondered how old Pom must be, who hadn't seemed to age a day since Kaila herself was but an acolyte of the dark lord.

"I never would have imagined you to be so experienced, certainly not by appearance anyway" she said in surprise, looking up at the taller woman who looked younger than even herself.

"And unlike those other Covens with their strict and overbearing rules and regulations, the Nardithi pride themselves in warrior castes and sorcery; thus, will welcome an outsider into their Sisterhood if they prove themselves worthy of being called Sister. Which leads me back to my offer of educating you, pretty lady."

"As for my time, when you haunted the galaxy as long as I have.....well time really has no place for me,"

She watched the woman feed her corvid another scrap of meat, dark thoughts surfacing as she recalled her talk of feeding on travelers. In fact the inquisitive seeker wondered if there were some connection to her claim that outsiders sometimes ate dathomiri young, and Moskvin's own status as an outsider of sorts prior to her joining the Nardithi.

But she wouldn't voice her thoughts, some things were better left unsaid.

Rather, she had other questions.

"The way you say this almost makes it sound as though you're interested in teaching more than history. Although I've been told that only those born upon Dathomir can wield it's magicks, is this true? And while I'd like to think we could have many mutual exchanges if time is of no concern, I still wonder what exactly you would get from teaching me?"

"While I'd certainly like to believe that it has something to do with you calling me "pretty lady" so much," she said with a coy smile

"I can't help feeling there's more to it than that. You claim to love sith politics, after all, and while I may be younger despite appearances, I am no less aware of the dangers and deception our newfound people often employ"

She wasn't some naïve acolyte, despite her tendency to keep dangerous company. In fact it was her near paranoia which had kept her alive long enough to ascend, and sent her fellow apprentices to their grave before they had the chance to climb over her.

It had been a hard lesson, but one she'd remember for all her life to come.



Darth Moskvin

 

[Darth Moskvin]

"Death Has But One Terror, That It Has No Tomorrow"​

​

A very odd, and rather tickling, thought struck me like a backhanded slap from angry parent to obnoxious young child whilst listening to this girl speak. I was actually in a conversation where I felt compelled to do my part, historically saying I don't enjoy conversations with the living, and for some odd reason, mainly because I fed earlier, the mere thought of tasting her crimson blood or murdering her out of pleasure never rose from the depths of my atmospheric nature. Had I finally, after all these years of trying to build a companion from used parts, found a person whose company I could enjoy? Or was it the years of loneliness finally catching up? I've bore witness to seeing my kind fall into lunacy and madness over centuries of loneliness; though I was already a mentally twisted bag of bones, so I've been told numerous times., and I wasn't lonely. I had Archie but this girl seemed much more, perhaps it was her beauty or the intrigue that was drawing me to her.

"History is a fickle thing, is it not? Full of perceptions and misconceptions. Riddled with truths and half-truths. Lies and exaggerated lies. Example...Dathomir magic can only be wielded by the natural born Nightsisters of Dathomir. Lie! Dathomir magic is derived from the Force itself, we just call it something different, like spells, because the concept of the Force was unknown to us until outsiders brought with them that philosophy. Now please pay attention as I've already stated once before, I wasn't born there, and I can wield our magic with great morbid efficiency. It's what the galaxy calls dedication. However, like the Force, not every Nightsister can wield the Dark Magics, to a degree that is a half-truth."

Taking a step back, I eyed the girl up and down; surveying what was presented to me. "I have absolutely no desire to take on an apprentice like so many others of our Order. To be tethered to an individual hawking at your every step, drooling upon every syllable that flutters from your mouth. I do not need a lapdog; I already have Archie. I do not care if the Order flourishes from young talent or withers away like the old, that is no concern of mine. My secrets and my knowledge are reserved for one of my choosing. I seek nothing to gain by teaching you. You are curious...I am eager to ease your curiosity. That is all."

"And be wary of appearances, like me. Remember the old tales of wolves in sheep's clothing; I am that wolf. But I am no danger to you...yet," I said whilst my golden vampiric eyes glowed slightly, "And you are wise beyond your years, pretty lady, to be wary of Sith politics. Every Sith has their rival or two, keeping you sharp and a straining eye over your shoulder. Ready to pounce and strike you down if given the opportunity; but this is a free bit of advice....it's the one you call friend that will murder you."

Again, another tickling thought bite me like a venomous asp. "I only have one friend among the Sith, and since my return I've yet to rediscover her. Dead perhaps? Lost perhaps? Maybe what I seek from you in exchange for teaching history lessons and opening your eyes to furthering your potential....is a replacement."

Kaila Irons​

 

[Kaila Irons]

Now please pay attention as I've already stated once before, I wasn't born there, and I can wield our magic with great morbid efficiency.

"Ah? my mistake. I assure you that I am listening, it's just that I tend to overthink certain details and in the process I sometimes lose the others, or so I'm told" she confessed in a nervous chuckle. It was perhaps a shortcoming of being so insatiably curious as she, chasing so many threads at once that they were not always knit so neatly.


Moskvin stopped then, taking a step back to observe the young darth in greater detail and she in kind. In a few ways, they appeared in stark contrast. Where her own hair was of a silken-gold quality, Moskvin's was dark as the night sky above. And where the witch's pallor was like the unpigmented moon, Kaila's still bore a subtle flush gifted by living blood beneath her skin. Lastly, where the witch was unnaturally thin for one so tall, the young sorcerous too was thin but with a lithe, athletic grace one might expect of a body sculpted in many duels, bound neatly in a bodyglove and sleek armor that was certainly of military make, almost the uniform of a soldier more than befits a lord, though it was certainly of high quality.

Their eyes however were similar, if only in that they were equally observant and gold with the fiery corruption of their dark arts. Although Moskvin's where marked by black sclera which highlighted their predatory glow.

A wolf indeed, although she could hardly call such a menacing appearance "sheep's clothing", though it held an unnatural beauty in of itself.

Even so, the witch had intrigued her with the promise of knowledge, and a price that some might deem peculiar as it was rare. But in her own way, Kaila understood her reasoning better than perhaps any other sith would.

"Curious that you should warn me of the dangers of friendship, yet ask of me the same" she hummed bemusedly.

But as she took a half step forward, her features softened into something that looked dangerously close to sympathy.

"I too had a friend among the sith, once. She too has vanished... I suppose I've a habit of becoming close with dangerous yet fleeting people, though not all have been sith. Perhaps there's a certain thrill in the danger, despite my best efforts to avoid it, or perhaps there is something grander at play than you or I..."

"Do you believe in fate, Clíodhna?" she inquired with cautious hope that she may at last find one among her order that is likeminded in her particular philosophy.

"They say the force meddles in destiny, and although I am unenthused by that prospect, I cannot deny the timing of our meeting is... quite the coincidence, given we've both lost something so dear."



Darth Moskvin

 

[Darth Moskvin]

"Horrors, I believe, should be original--the use of common myths and legends being a weakening influence."
- H.P. Lovecraft -​

​

"Fate...."

That word was eerily familiar to me, once phantasmical in nature, because I believe in its truth and righteousness. That two separate beings, unbeknownst to one another, could be brought together by mystical forces: essentially forming a near unbreakable bond. The word now conjured memories of my lost friend, nearly bringing my cold, predatorial eyes to a watery source; though in all my years I never cried, and I wondered if my kind was capable of such a demonstration.

"Yes, the Force. It does tend to meddle in affairs, and though as captivating as this meeting is...I am inclined to agree with you. Fate as brought us together. But for what?"

Why had two creatures of the darkness, with similar losses, been brought together, I wondered. Outside of my offer to educate her, which was a matter of choice on my part, what did this loss mean? Did we share in the same haunted state of forfeiture, that are lost ones could be one in the same? Had our beloveds died, and were not physically lost, but required closure by us, seeking their remains and lying them to a peaceful state of euphoria? Or had they become vengeful wraiths, like dead Lords before them, and wished to inhabit our corporeal forms to brandish justice for the wrongdoings bestowed upon them? Is that why Fate brought us together, or was it unseen malignant forces beyond the veil of the living weaving sprinkled dark magics over our feeling of loss?

"Your friend, the vanished one," I began to inquire, "Tell me about her?"

I began to suspect something brewing out from the misty worlds. I had never witnessed it in my lifetime, though the prospect of the concept didn't make it any less real, but there where whispers of an ancient bond formed before the birth of two individuals; something only the Force could create. The Nightsisters shunned it, believing it nigh impossible, but tomes among the Sith and Jedi spoke volumes of existence; however, it was rare and sometimes viewed with skepticism. And I grew more curious even further about this pretty lady.

Kaila Irons​

 

[Kaila Irons]

"You'd think someone so averse to fate as I would be more qualified to answer such a question, but it is perhaps because I cannot yet decipher the threads that I suffer their wrath, as do those around me."

Fate had not been kind to her in the past, and certainly not those who crossed her path. One could not be faulted for assuming it to be a curse, and she had certainly considered the possibility many times before.

It seemed then by the other woman's reaction that mysterious Clíodhna had surely also suffered at the hands of fate. There was something in the way she paused, hanging on that first word of subject which brought a look about her face that one could almost mistake for the dredging up of a tear from the dark well of the monster's heart. But no such thing came.

Kaila's lips pressed together and twisted into a frown, unsure if she should reach out to comfort the witch or if she might lose a hand for daring to pity the poor thing. It wouldn't be the first time.

"Your friend, the vanished one," I began to inquire, "Tell me about her?"

"...ah," the young darth paused, her golden eyes losing a little bit of their fire as they dropped to the cold ground below.

"She was... many things. A sithspawn, a mind-eater. The kind of woman whose dangerous aura could draw one in, yet there was something... different about her, she was so much more than any of those things. Though both monsters in their own ways, she was nothing like my master, and in fact she was the first to show me what I could be without his wretched dogma.

The only thing she ever asked of me... was to be myself, and no one else."

She allowed herself a melancholy smile, but it was hard to hide the pain behind it. More so than usual.

"I think that... perhaps love is a strong and confusing word. But I do believe we might have become more than friends, had fate not chosen to intervene before I could find my voice. She went missing after the battle of Dorvalla, whilst I was ordered to break the siege of neighboring Echnos, of which I now govern alone."

"Her name was... Leven Jeyd." she spoke the name slowly, savoring each sound on her tongue.

"...and you're the first soul to hear that name upon my lips since."

A single, small tear fell from the Vahla's eye. The first to be shed in another's sight in many years, despite her best efforts to lock it all away. As she had always done.



Darth Moskvin

 

[Darth Moskvin]

"Horrors, I believe, should be original--the use of common myths and legends being a weakening influence."
- H.P. Lovecraft -​

​

The girl's story was a breath of tragedy, a tale woven through the fabrics of pain and despair. Her face, so wickedly beautiful and yet held a malicious under toning mask, underwent a metamorphosis as she spoke of her loss. She mentioned 'more than friends', and I began to wonder if that was a reference to love. I didn't know how to love, it was not in my construct, and if there was a time that this whimsical philosophy once beheld my heart; the monster that created me, as he did with my living essence, robbed me of such a sentiment. Yet, even as I understood her loss, as I did mine, the coldness of my soul could not find measure of leniency for her.

"Leven Jeyd," I softly whispered back. The Nardithi Nightsisters respect and honor the dead and lost more than any Nightsister Coven on Dathomir, and it was tradition to speak the name of the fallen to offer a blessing of prestige to their memory. This was the only capabilities I could offer up that closely resembled empathy; and even that was something I couldn't ignore, as it was bred into me by my Sisters.

"Forgive my trespasses, I do not seek to offend by speaking her name from my lips. It's a tradition of the Nardithi Nightsisters to repeat the name of the dead or lost," I said with a slight bow of my head, "To honor their legacy they imprinted upon our lives. What you speak of her, I very much would have enjoyed conversing with such a magnificent fiend."

"But do not let despair swindle you, Pretty Lady, for it seems this girl has captured something most fear to let go."

"Perhaps you have reached the pinnacle in your life to break free from those chains that have shackled you to your Master, Darth Anathemous, and seek knowledge that you crave," my voice dropping unnaturally into cold tones like those from beyond the grave, "Rather than force-fed to you simply because your Master believes you need him, when in fact, Pretty Lady, it is your Master that needs you. But alas, I overstep my boundaries. I promised to teach you about the magic of the Nightsisters and much more, and that is where my boundary lies."

"And if by chance you get the itch to go seeking for your love....ask and I shall haunt the galaxy with you till you two are united. Fate."

I wondered if my last words where not directed to only her, but I, too, needed to hear my words. For my lost, Adeline Noctua , was of my doing.

Kaila Irons​

 

[Kaila Irons]

"Forgive my trespasses, I do not seek to offend by speaking her name from my lips. It's a tradition of the Nardithi Nightsisters to repeat the name of the dead or lost," I said with a slight bow of my head, "To honor their legacy they imprinted upon our lives. What you speak of her, I very much would have enjoyed conversing with such a magnificent fiend."

She bowed her head in wordless thanks, far from offended, the witch's justifications unneeded but not unwelcome.

Though as time went on, she wondered if this this is where their understanding came to an end. The idea of challenging Darth Carnifex was a fantasy dreamt up in her younger years as an acolyte, a fairy tale brought about by ignorance of his true power, which even now she had barely scratched the depths of. He may not be the god his followers claim him to be, but he was the closest to being one she'd ever seen.

Perhaps some, like the rogue Wanosa, would think her a coward and obedient slave for thinking such a thing.

Sometimes she wondered if they were right, but she was also biding her time. She had come farther than many of her peers in half the time, learned ancient powers thought lost to history, and every indignity he inflicted upon her only served to fuel her hatred and thus her connection to the dark side. She just had to remind herself that, though she was not yet powerful enough to challenge him, nor had he yet revealed his weakness to her, it was only yet. Her time would come, eventually.

But she couldn't reach that point alone, nor by being impatient. Others had made that mistake, enemies of His, and enemies of Hers. They had all perished.

"And if by chance you get the itch to go seeking for your love....ask and I shall haunt the galaxy with you till you two are united. Fate.

"Fate." she smiled somberly.

Perhaps, just this once, she could thank fate for crossing their paths.

"I've had visions alluding to her fate, though I dare not speak them aloud. The hope I hold onto is... fleeting, or denial perhaps, I am unsure. The trail ran cold many months ago, and I think it best not to dwell on it more than I already have."

"This was merely an... unexpected moment of vulnerability, equally fleeting. I suppose your interest in my plight has simply caught me off guard" she cleared her throat, redirecting her gaze upon Clíodhna again.

"Though perhaps I'll take you up on your offer all the same, and fill this hole which the dagger of fate has left in us in another way. But in the spirit of this budding friendship, I wonder if my role as a hunter of sorts might prove useful in mending at least one of us."

"May I ask in kind, of the one you've lost?"



Darth Moskvin

 

[Darth Moskvin]

"Horrors, I believe, should be original--the use of common myths and legends being a weakening influence."
- H.P. Lovecraft -​

​

"Ah....the sweet sorrow of loss, to be denied which you desire," my words began softly and pleasant slowly turning into a razor's slash as they gained traction with every spitting syllable, "To have them locked away for eternity, to be entombed in tragedy; left to rot and decay over that joyous momentum of pleasure forever whisked away from the gardens of paradise." Once more the memories of her cursed my wretched mind, splattering my darkened soul with unearthly feelings. It was previously established I did not love, but if such a spell could be cast upon me, it would be from her weaving hands.

"I despise my kind; hate is the more definitive attribute I bestow upon them." Earlier I caught her small glimpse at my purposely revealed fangs, and I no doubt believed this added more to her inquisitive nature. "I am a Sangir, a vampire. Unlike those other abominations with their ghastly and hollow ideas that they, too, are worthy of being called a vampire; they are as foolish as the heathens who worship false idols."

"As much as I abhor the existence of other Sangir's, all vampires in general, she I did not. Her presence alone robbed me of ending her life, as I have done so often to my kind and those floating the idea they are vampire. Her beauty was unmatched, as if she played the role a heroine and I that of the villain. But it was my lack of compassion, my lack of understanding the nature of emotions that forbade me to express such feelings and admiration, to be that unholy entity possessing her mind, inhabiting her body and soul."

"And now like the passing of time, she too is gone. Lost among the trinkets of a dead civilization. And perhaps, it is for the best she remains in the realm beyond my outstretched hands, living in my memories as my personal apparition." Saying the words gave me a sense of closure. The time between us had passed, and in those passing times I no doubt believe, if she still lived, she had changed, as I too have changed. The Sith preach the breaking of chains through victory, and it will be my victory to let her go that breaks these chains that tighten and restrict me to false hopes of a reunion. Her memories I will always savor.

"This talk of loss and feelings and memories is making me nauseous. Let's focus on your education, but you will not learn much about the Nightsisters and their magical secrets on a Sith World. Only on Dathomir will you fully be awakened."

Kaila Irons​

 

[Kaila Irons]

"It sounds as though we've similar taste in women" Kaila offered in the hopes of lightening the mood, and so as to say that, whoever she was speaking of, sounded like a remarkable woman if they inspired similar feelings as her dear lost Leven.

"This talk of loss and feelings and memories is making me nauseous. Let's focus on your education, but you will not learn much about the Nightsisters and their magical secrets on a Sith World. Only on Dathomir will you fully be awakened."

"Understandable. Though if you change your mind about laying the memory to rest for a time, tell me, and perhaps I will search the archives. I've access to many records which the public do not."

"...as for Dathomir,"

she exhaled slowly, wondering why it was that her path always lead back to Dathomir eventually.

"Fate seems keen on sending me to that red world of late, my own curiosities aside. I have a.. student, of sorts. We've forged a connection through our equally shrouded pasts, and I've reason to believe our quest to decipher her origins will take us to Dathomir soon, though I am yet unsure if this connection belongs to her alone, or one who's path once intersected with her own."

She spoke of Tamsin Graves of course, and the thing living in her mind.

Kaila leaned against a nearby wall, placing a gloved hand to her chin in thought. She had certainly told Moskvin the truth, but not the whole of it. It had become a habit of hers to reveal truths slowly and only ever in fragments, a bit like baiting a hook one plans to cast about the water, a way for her to feel out one's intentions and trustworthiness. However, she had always been slow to trust in this way, and though it had certainly protected her life since becoming a sith, it had done little to earn her allies, and even fewer friends.

Perhaps then she could start now? With someone whom she'd shared such a personal moment, and they in kind?

"I've also felt a calling, though I cannot yet explain why. Visions come rare to me, but I suppose this is more a feeling than anything else. At first I thought it a fleeting fancy, a phase of obsession that would fade in time. But it has grown strong of late, and I'd be lying if I said I did not wish to indulge this morbid curiosity."



Darth Moskvin

 

[Darth Moskvin]

"Horrors, I believe, should be original--the use of common myths and legends being a weakening influence."
- H.P. Lovecraft -​

​

The archives, I thought, was something I had not deduced as a source of guiding me to my lost one. The information sealed away in those ancient catacomb-like edifices would contain the knowledge to the roads of reunion. But, as my memories began to painfully remind me, perhaps my cherished desire should remain lost. No! If there was a way, perchance, to find the results and at last put my sorrows to the burning torches, to end this worming struggle that slinks inside me, then I must cut from my body which has dragged me down into this abysmal self-loathing of loss.

"Her name," I began only to pause now, thinking if she was dead, saying the name now would only begrudge me more grief with that infectious touch upon my soul with abrasively outstretched blackened fingernails, and yet quickly without a second guess, less risking losing all that I could gain from such a venture, I blurted out," Adeline Noctua ." And as those two words slithered between my cold lips, I felt a change in the air; but of what, I do not know.

Now as I listened to my newfound interest speak of her student, a conviction I did not share, and her student's mysterious, which I found to be wholesomely delightful, down to her own personal visions; I summarized a theory, one I believed early on at the onset of this viable conversation, that there was more to this girl; the one I dubbed Pretty Lady. These visions that were manifesting themselves to her, led me to ponder deeply in my ghoulish mind what, if anything, was Dathomir seeking? I had read tomes from those old ancient Crones who spoke of Sisters being called back to Dathomir from whence they gone, to serve a purpose only known between Sister and mother Dathomir herself. Did I believe it, perhaps.

"These visions. Are they of you and your association with your....student, a connection like a dyad? Or are these impressions of Dathomir alone?"

More curiosities began to trickle down from above, like a waterfall of questions without a dam to withhold the impending flooding of the senses. Cosmically, the more she and I spoke, the more questions and fanciful building blocks of attempting to understand one another grew like great pillars, like those ancient stone monoliths erected to touch the hands of Gods. And perhaps, this lovely creature that stands before me, is not who she thinks she is. Like myself, the years before my Sangir induction, are a mystery; one I have no bounty I wish collect.

Kaila Irons​