The Unholy League

[Galad J. Victus]

This would be a most interesting experience, and one potentially fruitful, by all means. The promise within this particular quest was too great to simply ignore, despite the fact that it involved venturing deep into the unwelcoming and protective Darthomir, a home and lair to some of the darkest souls that dwelled within the galaxy. There would be dangers, traps, and unavoidably acts of betrayal, a lack of good faith was indeed necessary to outlive the countless hidden shadows of the deceiving foes ahead; not only a means to remove the weak through a test of survival, it would also be a gamble, for few could remain without falling into complete madness once the whisperings of the monsters would start ringing in their ears and lurking within their minds, deep echoes of war and silent screams of fear in it's purest form would drive away the greatest of heroes in despair.

The witches of the night, had especially a mastery of such forbidden arts; left to rot and fade in the darkest corners of the places none would dare to walk upon. Their hatred gave life to their power as ages passed and the hidden knowledge was transferred from one maddened and broken generation to the other like a sacred tradition of the greatest importance, thus the foul words of power corrupted them; they were drowned in their own fears of turning into mindless abominations, their sanity was ripped apart by the overwhelming weight that they were forced to wield, and their fears conquered them, rendering the nightmares of the insane real. So they fled; vanished into darkness, taking away whatever ancient evil that resulted in their demise as they went. Thus fell the hidden power of corruption, enslaving the cursed tribe that uncovered it.

So tells the legends, of tribes lost and powers dark.

It had taken days just to catch wind of this most odd myth, even longer to track the source of rumors all the way to this very outpost deep within the unexplored and incresingly hostile jungles of this region, which was quite removed from the properly adminstated and stabilized parts of the planet itself. The journey was treacherous and exhausting, yet, Galad was now certain that this was the right path to walk upon, despite the fact it strongly felt like otherwise. It had been weeks since his campaign began upon landing at Darthomir, roughly around the far side of the hostile planet. All the travelling and tracking had led him here, where he was sitting comfortably on a chair, his legs put to rest over the table, crossed, a half-empty bottle in one hand, his hat pulled down, covering his eyes, making it difficult to notice that he was actually eyeing the door, awaiting to see the certain figure finding her way inside. His clothing was simple; one that was designed with the intention of avoiding unnecasarry attaction; the brown hat, cloak, boots and the travelling clothes. At a first glance, it would be extremly easy to catch one very obvious detail; they were dirty and worn-out, for he had been on the move for the last few weeks now. Each feature suggested that he was a normal traveller, like any other. Nothing less, nothing more. Save for the blaster pistol kept in he belt, perhaps.

So he waited, a whistle of his accompanying the soft tone of the music spreading from across the room where a holocron was playing, though it was lost amongst the common noises one could find in any cantina; men laughing and yelling around, overrated jokes and all. The tune of the silent whisper reached no ears, for it was eaten away by the black hole of music and rumbles, thus none realized it was actually the melody belonging to an old song of Naboo origins.

 

[Jake]

SOME TIME AGO . . .

Dathomir. World without borders. Dathomir: untamed, adolescent, chaos; mountains and canyons raged across its surface like jagged scar fissures, volcanoes rose like blemishes on a teenage face, rivers cut across it like the paths tears carved down a person's cheeks, oceans simmered where shoals of fish boiled and reformed like the clouds so high above. Dathomir, a planet of culture and history, a place as ancient as civilization, a world that had seen its fair share of conquerors and explorers, and yet had never been shackled to whatever empire held, presently, the galaxy's reins in its hands. Dathomir. World of witchcraft and spell-singers, world of future-seers and king-bearers. Out of that wild planet had come greater men than places far more populated. Dathomir, closer to the Force than most men to their mothers, had borne offspring well-versed in its mystic arts. Dathomir, the home of the Nightsisters.

Long weeks spent traveling across that fascinating, unexplored frontier had torn the rigors of civilization from Orianna's body. Her blue eyes were like broken snowglobes and the mud of dark dreams was caked across her face. Her white hair still glimmered like the scales of an albino krayt dragon in the sunlight, but it was a more strained beauty, fragile as an angel's halo. Beneath her eyes were circles so dark they were bruises. The years since fleeing Tython had made her wild, but Dathomir fanned the flames of that savagery in her heart, fed a spark into an inferno. It was only with all the lessons she had learned from other places such as this, from the Fallanassi and the Baran-Do Sages and countless others, that she could survive on this world so deeply steeped in the Force and all its aspects. When she spoke it was not with her voice but that of nature, and the power it conveyed was irrefutable.

She strode into the settlement like this, disheveled after days and days spent navigating the lush but dangerous jungles that dotted the planet's face. It was a small town, scarcely a soul to be found save those who drowned their sorrows in the local watering hole. She redirected herself there without further delay. He would be there by now, waiting, doubtlessly. She was not foolish enough to throw herself to the mercies of this planet without a companion to assist her in her travels, even if that companion came from dubious origins. When she entered a jingle was playing, meaningless to her ears, and yet immediately she recognized the man she was waiting for by his well-worn appearance after overcoming the same trials that she had. He looked younger than her. More malleable. She narrowed her eyes. He would be useful, she realized, and deeper inside herself she heard those words and worried that her journeys had hardened her too much, made her into a creature too cunning to still call itself a Jedi.

She approached with a few quick strides, ignoring the way the locals watched her, mystified both at her sudden appearance and at her astounding beauty which was untarnished by the grime and grit that covered her.

"You," she said to the man, and took a seat in front of him at his table, watching him from over his propped feet, "are Galad Nepos. Am I incorrect?"

 

[Galad J. Victus]

[COLOR="#crimson"]"You are correct, that is my name. Which means you Orianna. Greetings, forgive my lack of manners."[/COLOR]

He said, with a little smile dancing on his lips. Correcting his pose, with his legs taken off of the table, he picked up one of the two glasses in the table, filling it with the drink in the bottle, and placed it within the newcomer's reach. Before speaking he observed her for a few moments, viewing her features. She was beautiful, perhaps a little older than himself, and had an unusual appearance. She clearly had drew attention merely by being present, the men of the saloon occasionally stealing glances at their table, which was a bad sign in itself. He neared the table and lowered his voice.

[COLOR="#crimson"]"This place, as much as it may seem like any other isolated outpost with nothing special about it, happens to be an important point of interest for us, so the hardship we have endured to get here is not in vain, I assure you." [/COLOR]

He placed a datapad on the table, pushing it towards her. It would contain the map of the region; a seemigly unending jungle with mountains and canyons scattered throughout the small screen, a majority of the continent. Upon zooming, coloured borders of small regions would catch the eye once in a while, some deep inside the hostile jungles, some isolated atop the mountains, other hidden in the canyons; nightsister presence, though a note in the panel to the right of the screen reported that the visual information of them could be lacking or misleading. A marker indicated the two's current location, the small town, only visible in the extreme edges of zooming. There were mining camps nearby, the closest mountainous region was to the east of the jungles which where they were located.

After granting her some time to view the content of datapad, which in the meantime he attempted to empty the bottle and aimlessly stared around the saloon, Galad at last spoke.

[COLOR="#crimson"]"How would you have us proceed?" [/COLOR]