Private Whispers In The Walls

[Isobel Serraris]

WHISPERS IN THE WALLS​

LOCATION — Korriban, Ancient Temple
TAGS — Varin Mortifer
PARAPHERNALIA — Armour of the Lost, an old blaster pistol and concealed Vesper et Aurora.

An abyssal umbra upon the galaxy, where only those desperate or hateful enough to drown in it went--Korriban. The tales had been vivid during her stay with the Jedi, the red wastes, the pillars that only echoed the grandeur from thousands of years past, and the malignant entity that corrupted those pledged to the light.

Why. The act to come to the heart of darkness was illogical--and yet the truth of the matter lay beyond her, out of reach, a void that could not be tamed nor filled. It simply was.

Her ronto-hide boots left footprints in the dusty paths, following the path that the Force--or was it her soul?--wanted her to trod. The further environment veiled behind a firm duststorm that ached her eyes with each glance she sought to take. What remained, were but the glimpses of a rocky path, and the increasing shadow that was cast over her. One hand acted a shield, whereas the other was stretched out in front of her. Ashla, and her guidance, remained particularly quiet; that she could not even be considered a background murmur in Isobel's mindscape. Her senses were all but corrupted by the hand of Bogan.

When her fingers grazed past the rough slopes of a wall--or rock--she initially did not think much of it, and carefully followed its turn to the right. Until, there was a sudden absence of a wall, and she stumbled inside a dark hallway. . . With the gentlest of moves, she drew one of her lightsabers 'Aurora' to her hand and ignited it. . . casting a muted golden light upon the walls of a ruin--or temple. The Sigil's hum echoed loudly throughout the cavernous passages of the structure as the Jedi continued her path deeper into the temple.

The walls were inscribed with various Sith texts, identifiable by their longer and slimmer sigils. Their translations were much lost on her, even in all her months exploring ancient temples and tombs, she had not gained grasp of the language beyond the basic (pro)nouns. Still, Bel could not help to notice how most of its scriptures appeared so alike, as if they were repeating the same sentence or the same chant. . .

"Am," She thought aloud, trying to decipher the words, one for one. "Liberated...? Freed." She was unsure about that one, it too looked like 'broken'. "Me." She reread the sentence, and repeated the words in a softer tone. "I am freed."

​

 

[Varin Mortifer]

VARIN MORTIFER

Equipment: Durum Mantle | Black Blade of Chandrila | Eye of The Dragon | Heavy Sith Mace | Cross Guard Broadsaber

Varin had wandered into the Golg Desert by himself today. Something he had neglected to do for quite some time. It was how he found the Ashlan Jedi Temple, it was how he found Sinew and it was where he had first discovered the very tip of his potential.

Every time he had ventured off he was rewarded something from the dark side. Experience, knowledge, even power.

He would let the Force guide him today to where he needed to be.

The very feeling led him to one of the older Sith Temples after some time of wandering. He made sure he had enough water and food on him, as well as his saber and Black Blade. He traveled without his armor however. Too much weight for such a journey.

His footfalls echoed around the walls around him, his presence did not hide, it announced itself.

He felt another presence causing his eyes to glance over the red tinted light that filtered in the room.

Someone else was here.

His gaze sharpened as he stepped in further, his stature towering above the average height. He was a large man now. Much had changed since he last ventured these deserts a few years prior.

He noticed the light nearby. A magenta or pink color that lit the distant walls.

Varin did not draw his weapon. If a Jedi were here, it was likely they were called. But he would keep his guard up.

He heard her words as she read the scripture among the walls.

His voice echoed down the halls, not a yell or even a raise in tone. It just carried with authority.

“Free from shackles that bound me to weakness.”

Isobel Serraris​

 

[Isobel Serraris]

WHISPERS IN THE WALLS​

LOCATION — Korriban, Ancient Temple
TAGS — Varin Mortifer
PARAPHERNALIA — Armour of the Lost, an old blaster pistol and concealed Vesper et Aurora.

The echo laid bare in the dim hallways, 'freed' persisted in the air for several seconds before the silence dominated once more. What ought be freed? Was it a vow for the future, or a declaration from the histories? From her memory, Bel could recall that Sith often spoke of breaking one's chains, to be liberated through the Force--was that what this scripture sought to proclaim?

Her inner ramblings were drowned out by the noise of footsteps approaching, preceded by a faint hum in the Force--dark, yet probing almost. A murmur of the indistinct darkness that flooded this entire planet clung to this newer presence, but were they friend or foe. . ? That was yet to be determined.

Freed from the shackles that bound me to weakness, the words were clear and a further brand of a Sith Code--a declaration of how one must live, a declaration of how one must die above all. The voice was firm, authorative, and embodied the purpose of its claim.

Isobel's fingers gradually drew toward her sash where her shoto-lightsaber was holstered still. . . Should this man prove to be hostile, she would not be without guard. "Freed from shackles that bound me to weakness," departed her dusty lips in repetition, before her eyes trailed back to the numerous sigils in ur-Kittât. "One might presume all of these texts to hold such a message. Broken chains, weakness, hatred. . ." A lowly muse reserved for herself, attempting to sound unimpressed by this stranger's sudden interruption. It was unwise to provoke them by seeking them out, but ignoring them entirely was to be cut by the same blade of oblivion.

With heed, her steps brought her to another wall, where different sigils presented themselves, declaring to be another message than what had previously been proclaimed. The countless ringlets of her chainmail made a chiming noise with each movement.

"Saarai," the Nabooan read aloud, her pronounciation was foreign at best--lacking the nigh on guttural sound of the ancient tongue. In the next few moments the self-assumed scholar began to voice all of the words aloud, before translating them into one: "The Force is the truth, the essence of existence. . . or 'being'." before turning toward the shadowed hall, seeking for confirmation of this o-so-mysterious being.

"Was I close? If so, that scripture does not fully embody the 'evil' and 'relentless' Sith. . . unless my teachings have failed me," the words left her almost wittily, anticipating a quick retort.

​

 

[Varin Mortifer]

VARIN MORTIFER

Equipment: Durum Mantle | Black Blade of Chandrila | Eye of The Dragon | Heavy Sith Mace | Cross Guard Broadsaber​

Varin’s hand gently rested on his saber hilt, though he did not draw, opting to watch her with a trained patience as well. Many times he has seen scholars and nobles come to Korriban in hopes to find some form of meaning, even going mad trying to decipher the ancient tongue.

His eye traced over her chainmail. The design drew a curious look upon his brow as she spoke.

A small hum drew from him after she asked her question.

“The teachings from Jedi and other beings about the Sith though some may be true, hold an essence of lies.”

He stayed his ground, not moving closer, nor drawing away, intent on learning more of this mysterious woman he had ran into.

“Propaganda is always the same when it comes to teachings.”

His gaze drew to the ancient wall that held the carvings of ancient language, his palm gently running along the wall, small sparks flying from his hand as dust burned within his grasp, falling lazily and slowly to the floor like ash in the air where wind dared not tread.

“The Force is not merely a building block of everything that is, but it is also raw and untainted knowledge. Something as old as The Force changes yet, remains over time. In short, most will always see it differently. Some for their own gain, others as a guiding light to meaning.”

His gaze slowly looked over to her, the glowing eye shining dimly in the dark light.

"To be free from the chains of weakness is to be free of limitation."

Isobel Serraris​

 

[Isobel Serraris]

WHISPERS IN THE WALLS​

LOCATION — Korriban, Ancient Temple
TAGS — Varin Mortifer
PARAPHERNALIA — Armour of the Lost, an old blaster pistol and concealed Vesper et Aurora.

Many beings adored to spin their words as a krykna might weave its web, though the purpose of their work lay divided. One sought to deceive its students, whereas the other sought to glorify oneself in the eyes of third, or in her case, the pursuit of education of what may kill one in this vast galaxy. The Sith and Jedi remain the blade and the shield, one seeking to oppress whereas the other aspiring to defend. An eternal hymn of low and high notes, fluctuating in their potency.

The glimmering, yet fiery hued, particle of light drew her attention. This stranger, this foe, was tall, and though it beckoned a sense of dread within her body, the softened teachings of her mentors echoed once more in a mind--a person's size does not signify a grand advantage, it merely meant their weaknesses lay elsewhere. . .

"Propaganda is bound to occur when the other party abandons reason, for only hostility and mistrust may follow. To insist otherwise is akin to saying we must pity the Rakatans for what they brought onto themselves." A bitter dry huff left her, nothing close to her sweet laugh.

Her fingers continued to linger above Vesper--a shoto-bladed lightsaber--coiled in quiet anticipation, much akin to a Nexu prowling in the grass before the inevitable strike. Once, she may have welcomed strangers with an unguarded heart, though too many had taken a blade to the naïveté, forcing caution to become as much an instinct as breathing itself.

"While that may be so, the views one might have about Ashla or Bogan are fated to be different--one cannot picture a calm sea whilst directing a storm. To picture it as life itself is a view not many Sith harbour," Another thought departed her lips, swirling in the air akin to a breeze. The Force was comparable to a garden to her, a brightly coloured palette of different flowers all flourishing under the bright sun, and the dark. . . was the rot that spread, a blight seeking to leech the life until it was nought more than a faint memory.

A chuckle could be heard as he voiced something about being freed from weakness--well yes, if one has no frailties, their power would be limitless. "But can one be freed from weakness?" Her voice was sweeter, repeated huffs from laughter still surrounding her. "What says your ideology of that? Weaknesses are ever-evolving, you do not know until you have faced it--I once thought to be resistant to the effects of a Millaflower, until I was unconscious for ten hours after working the gardens~"

​

 

[Varin Mortifer]

VARIN MORTIFER

Equipment: Durum Mantle | Black Blade of Chandrila | Eye of The Dragon | Heavy Sith Mace | Cross Guard Broadsaber

That was the real question.

Can one truly be freed from weakness?

The question brought a sort of smile to his face. A lift in the corner of his mouth.

“That, is how a true Sith starts to think.”

He slowly stepped a bit closer, his arms folded behind his back as he walked towards another section of wall carved with ancient scripture.

“When you ask such a question it leads to the hunger, the drive and the want for your search that resides past the realm of possibilities.”

The glow of his eye faintly reflected on the wall.

“To be unable to picture calmer seas while directing a calmer storm, that is what we call mortal thinking.”

He stopped still giving her space, but certainly closer.

“The Sith do not wish to think as mortals, true Sith do not wish to be mortals. To be mortal is to embody weakness. To be a God, to harness the force, the very essence of knowledge and its building blocks of life, that is what breaks the chains.”

His voice echoed from the walls around them for a quick moment before it fell silent.

“The Jedi would call it enlightenment. The belief that true inner peace with self can change the world. The calm sea.”

A small scoff left him.

“But tell me, does the world not change faster when a storm approaches? does the sand upon the bottom of the ocean stir when the ocean stills? Does the absence of action change anything?”

“...to have weakness is to be mortal and a mortal cannot change the galaxy like a God can.”

He paused once more.

"Why be the one that falls unconscious in the garden when you can be the Sun, the wind and the rain that created it."

Isobel Serraris​

 

[Isobel Serraris]

WHISPERS IN THE WALLS​

LOCATION — Korriban, Ancient Temple
TAGS — Varin Mortifer
PARAPHERNALIA — Armour of the Lost, an old blaster pistol and concealed Vesper et Aurora.

The amusement would not falter as the theatre's ambience silenced once more; though her lips no longer emitted the laughter from before, the twinkle in the brown doe-like eyes dared bring voice to her opinions on the matter. The accusation was quite a hilarity, to draw the conclusion that she was reasoning -- or in truth not making sense -- like a Sith was. . . odd , and plain wrong.

Her heart beat with many tunes, not all entirely aligned with Ashla's melody, though to slow it to be like Bogan's. . .? Ridiculous once more. "Me? A sith? What an odd conclusion !" she mused more so to herself than to feed his delusions.

The brutal longing for power did not reside in her heart, she wishes to be content. . . at peace, so why would one be using the tools of war to uncover an outcome nothing like what one desired?

The tall silhouette of the man slowly neared her, the thundering in the Force louder than before--rumbling the walls themselves, though they remained stagnant. The dark hand of the Force sought to dim the light within their shared space, to suppress it until it was nought more but a fading memory.

"A desire to be without weakness. A desire to become a higher being. . . All that to perish when another of your sort yearns for your rank~" Isobel said with a smile, recalling the tales her brother had once read to her about the many rebellions and what not in the histories themselves. Every being was akin to a spoke on the wheel, ever cycling between who was on top, there was no victor--never.

Her hand slipped away from her other weapon, and her ignited yellow blade began to float effortlessly in the space around her--freeing the woman's hand to cross them over the chainmail armour covering her torso.

There was no appeal in his words, to control nature's cycle was the Force's might--and one could not simply subsume that property. One could be the conduit, or a part of its orchestra. . . or the conductor themselves--but never take the role of the music itself. "Does it not tire? This endless search to best your brethren? To let this lust for power poison your every move?" She shifted her stance nigh on arrogantly. "To dread the day your master may find your presence useless and seek to discard you."

​

 

[Varin Mortifer]

VARIN MORTIFER

Equipment: Durum Mantle | Black Blade of Chandrila | Eye of The Dragon | Heavy Sith Mace | Cross Guard Broadsaber

His head tilted slightly after she spoke, a simple shrug offered from him to her.

“If I were to fall by someone who was hungrier and more ambitious, then I was not strong enough to be a God. It is as simple as that.”

He watched as the saber free floated from her hand, he kept his eye on it.

“No, you are not a Sith. Not even close.”

A pause as his gaze glared.

“I would cut you down in an instant, but…”

The word hung in the air as he lifted his hand up, palm up and fingers lazily outstretched towards the scripture on the walls.

“You ventured to a Sith another, drenched in the blood of wars and Sith history, delved into a Sith temple where you are attempting to read Sith scripture carved among these walls.”

His hand dropped, resting on his belt.

“You are past a slippery slope to Sithdom. You are venturing into the swamps of Sith knowledge, dredging through the muck searching for a trail that has been long drowned by stagnant waters of promise and knowledge.”

His hand flicked to the side, as if in obedience several sconces lit up with an intense red flame before calming and stilling to their calm dance, lighting the room further, revealing several slabs with long dead skeletons laying about in sacrificial stances.

“You ventured into the dark thinking a Jedi blade would light your way as the darkness starts to swallow up your light, only for a Sith to show you the truth of this room.”

A pause.

“Something your blade would rather you be blind to.”

He walked around one of the slabs, his fingers wrapping around a skull in his palm before his fingers crushed the bone to dust.

“The swamp clings to your feet, your legs and your waist. Yet you persist not knowing that the waters are rising.”

"So tell me, Jedi , what is it that you search for that the Sith have that the Jedi could never offer you."

Isobel Serraris​

 

[Isobel Serraris]

WHISPERS IN THE WALLS​

LOCATION — Korriban, Ancient Temple
TAGS — Varin Mortifer
PARAPHERNALIA — Armour of the Lost, an old blaster pistol and concealed Vesper et Aurora.

The acknowledgement of her reason, and of her state of being was a surprise of sorts. While her presence reeked of the light-side, of the calm, and of the naive, she had gone unnoticed within Coruscant before and it shaped a question within her mind; was it no longer an obvious mark? Had Ashla abandoned her blade--her lone moonflower in a field of darkness?

"I have not pledged myself to deceit, so I shall admit I am not one of your kind--not a Sith." The arrogance within her voice withered, finding no proper soil to root. Nor did her guard get raised any higher, for the purpose of his queries were more probing than anything?

Her blade hummed idly as it hovered still beside its wielder, the light of its crystal making the white-marbled hilt glow like a firefly in the darkest of night.

His accusations caused a huff to depart her lips, utterly surprised by the mere notion of her harbouring any stain of Bogan. To wade in the waters of the Sith, to seek out the knowledge that does not limit itself to a faith--it was not. . . a commitment to become one, was it?

"My desire lays not in the acquisition of this 'power' you speak of, I had no will in coming here--'twas beyond my control." Her words grew defensive, seeking to parry and block the valid blows he was throwing at her motive, at her presence. "I am merely here to make sense of whatever I can before the dust storm finally clears."

Bel drew toward another of the walls, as if to prove she did not need him. Her brown eyes darting over the scripture once more, this was a missive she had read before in an ancient tomb near Dantooine. A vow that one cannot outrun what had been dreamt.

Her head tilted lightly, while her back remained facing him. "Is it a crime to learn the language of another. I have learned Huttese, does that make me a Hutt?" A pathetic jest to distract from the seeds of doubt that had been planted within her heart.

His last query lingered in the empty air beneath them, unanswered as she continued to make sense of the countless markings in the stone. What did she seek now that she was here? What purpose lay there in exploring ruins throughout the galaxy? Was it an evasion of duty or the search for more. . .

Her lips parted and closed several times before she found a voice for her words. "Tis not something only the Sith can show me, the Jedi can as well. . . But I am seeking guidance, where my Lady will grant me none--guidance on the Force, guidance on anything that mattered in life." The Nabooan then turned around, gazing upon his silhouette once more.

​

 

[Varin Mortifer]

VARIN MORTIFER

Equipment: Durum Mantle | Black Blade of Chandrila | Eye of The Dragon | Heavy Sith Mace | Cross Guard Broadsaber​

“By your will or by the will of another, it matters not to this temple.”

He flicked his hand allowing some of the loose dust to trail off in soft arcs as wind softly blew into the cavern. Her next question drew a small hum from him as she asked so blindly.

“No, it does not make you a Hutt, but how often do you see Huttese carved into the walls of ritualistic sacrificial chambers? Do the Hutts acquire ancient power and knowledge left over by celestial beings beyond comprehension? That is a weak argument of desperation, and it represents your presence here well, if your lady of light has abandoned you.”

When she turned around his gaze stared right into hers, unflinching.

“So, your Lady has left you with nothing and you come to the dark side for answers.”

He paused, a small breath drew into his lungs before releasing.

“Answers to what matters in life. What does that look like to you? Is it power? Is it life itself? Darkness? Light? Right or wrong?”

The questions bounced around the walls echoing into the chamber as if he were attempting to manifest an interrogation to the very walls.

“The truth of the matter is none of those matter. Life has its own agenda whether you are with it or not it does not care, it will continue on. Life cares not for what we search for, it just is.”

He fell silent after he finished speaking, allowing his words to build in weight within the room.

“You are here for answers that the light could not provide, whether you meant to or not, you have been driven towards truth. Truth that Jedi hide away from.”

Isobel Serraris​