Faction Litanies of the Dark Side: Spoils of War

[Valia Muqai]

Valia furrowed her brow at Hyara's strange interest on the one particular wound on her chest. To her, it didn't seem any different from the others beyond its location on her chest, perhaps it was supposedly another fatal blow that failed to kill her, which wouldn't surprise Valia at all, considering her in odd inability to die which she had long noticed.

She stared at Hyara with utter confusion drawn across her face. The entire situation she had found herself in was bizarre enough that it made Valia wondered if she was still some sort of Sith sorcery that was making her see soldiers speaking a foreign language and appearing oddly similar to herself. She distrusted their aid, only accepting it as she had no alternative. To resist and fight back felt as if it would sink her further then.... a thought she hadn't had before, after spending so long fighting against the will of the Dark Crusade, having her will and morals eroded so thoroughly. Valia well and truly felt utterly lost in a way she couldn't describe, it was quite obvious to anyone paying attention to her expressions and body language. Hyara's words only intensified the feeling even further.

"The man was..." Valia realized she hadn't asked for his name, neither he asked for hers, only vaguely recalling what the woman, Theocha was her name, had addressed him as. "That woman, Theocha was it, addressed him as Lord Hegemon. The one in the bronze armor and red crest on his helmet. Never learned his name." She assumed that Hyara would illuminate her on that soon enough.

"And ride what exactly?"

 

[Hyara Hemstagon]

Hyara chuckled when she mentioned the way Theocha called the man. She covered her mouth with her palm, as her eye rolled up.

"Oh, thats the big boss man. He's with the Alcademons. Fancy bronze and all. Partypooper." she shrugged. "He ain't not with us cool bunch. Alcademons are all about show and not too much of skill. You might see him in the Harvest. Though I wouldn't hold my breath. Partypooper..." she shook her head.

She leaned back, her head resting on the crate, amidst a sea of pale braids, spreading like snakes towards all directions.

When Valia asked, at last, Hyara turned her head back to her, as if shocked by the inquiry.

"You kidding." she exclaimed. "You haven't gone on a Hound before? Girl, I dunno what you've been doing" she shook her head, returning her focus up once again. "But that ain't life...."

She went silent for a few breaths, as if daydreaming had intervened her trail of thought.

"You get to see it all. Revel in the thrill. No rules. No laws. Just...." she shook her shoulders.

"You gonna love it on the Imvonvol. Well... Till you get used to the smell... Oh, those maggots smell like -crap-... I don't allow none on my tower! Just me and the boys are enough to run the big lady. But first!"

She lifted herself up, shaking her shoulders along the elbow, as if mimicking a strange form of dance...

"We gonna get some Harvest fun, right?"

 

[Valia Muqai]

Valia continued to stare at Hyara with a look that only continued to indicate her persisting confusion at what was being discussed. She understood that the man that spared and took her was the one in charge, or one of the ones in charge. It was difficult to fully determine when all she had to go off from were the nigh cryptic messages of Hyara and Theocha, though Valia figured it was a safe assumption from how the Lord Hegemon carried himself.

"Look... I have no idea what you're or anyone else is talking about." Valia said, her hands held out for emphasis. "I don't know why everyone here assumes I just know everything when I don't! What do you mean by riding what? What is an Imvonvol? What the hell is this Harvest thing? None of this makes sense and I especially don't know why I am even here."

She huffed, slumping back against a crate. Once again feeling the ache of fatigue go through her. "Never even heard of whatever an Athysian League is, never even heard of the language everyone here speaks."

 

[Hyara Hemstagon]

Surprise was clear on Hyara's eyes, as she stared at Valia's outburst. In reality, Hyara had not, perhaps, realized the extend of what Theocha spoke of, or so she gathered now that she witnessed Valia's own collapse.

"Well, damn, girl..." she murmured, as Valia slumpered down. Hyara slithered her body towards the edge of the crate, her head picking down, causing her heavy braids to hand before and over Valia's face.

"You really are clueless..." she admitted, bitting her lips as she grimached grimly.

She stared at her for few moments, as if she searched for the words to speak.

"Where were you born?"

She eventually spoke up, her voice shifting as if driven to yet another realization; Or better, a recognition.

 

[Valia Muqai]

It felt oddly reassuring to see Hyara actually have a measure of understanding instead of spewing of further chastisement or riddles, which she had grown accustomed to hearing. How sincere it was, Valia couldn't tell, but she was at least glad for the minuscule silver lining she had been provided.

"Don't know, don't care. That isn't relevant." Valia mindlessly picked at a scabbed wound on her arm. Pondering between saying her next words or just leaving her answer as that.

"I am..." she paused briefly "... was a Jedi. Birthplace never mattered to us." her words were a quiet whisper. To say a simple truth hurt as much as the knife she drove into her heart. She had clung to the Jedi identity so hard and for so long it felt impossible to let go.

But how could she call herself one after what she had done.

 

[Hyara Hemstagon]

Hyara, as uncharacteristic of her as it was, remained silent; Listening. In many ways, she felt a connection with Valia which she could not identify. The pain, shared, was real, and she could not simply jest around it, until the voices once again take the helm and drive her onward, like the used to.

"I heard your kind was bred to be warriors." she said then. Her voice strangely calm. "You have no home, or parents. You don't have attachments." she continued. Words she had heard many times over, and, for a moment, felt so familiar though she had never admitted to any league in thought or act.

"You are forbidden from feeling."

Hyara slid down, planting herself right beside Valia, so much so that her shoulder touched hers. She turned her one-eyed gaze to her and nodded with her head.

"Go on. What's the story?"

 

[Valia Muqai]

Under any other circumstances, Valia would have shrunk away from Hyara's presence or pushed her away. To have someone in such close proximity was deeply uncomfortable and unsafe in her mind, as they could easily land a killing blow or worse. The Dark Crusade had conditioned her that much. Only one person she had allowed to stay so close to her then.....

"Not bred. Chosen. No Jedi is forced to stay if they wish to leave the order. The Jedi Temple is our home and we are not entirely forbidden from feeling. Emotions are normal, but it must not control you." It felt almost nostalgic for Valia to explain such things to Hyara. She had done so before, to those with common misconceptions of the Jedi Order. "But you are right, we are not allowed to be attached."

She fell into a contemplative silence again, wondering how and where she would even begin such a story or if she'd even want to. Especially out in the open and so soon after meeting Hyara, for all she knew, it could be used against her. Not that it would matter really, Valia had grown used to the pain.

"The story is that I was a Jedi, I was taken, then I was a Jedi no longer. You don't need to know anymore than that." There was a sudden, sharp edge to her voice as she answered that went as soon as it came that indicated it was not a discussion she was willing to go further on at the moment. "Now, you haven't answered any of my questions about this... harvest and riding whatever."

 

[Hyara Hemstagon]

"No attachments?" she chuckled. "No much fun in that, then.... What's the point in fighting for what you have no attachment to?" she shook her head. "I hear you are taken from children, and raised in temples to become warriors. Sounds like an Athysian rite... Well... Judging by your looks, it ain't as enduring as our's is!" she jested, giggling behind her bare teeth.

Hyara observed Valia as she clearly did not unfold her story as much as Hyara would wish. She could not blame her, if Hyara was honest with herself. Though her moral code was rather shallow and depraved, she could see the deep scars Valia carried, and the absence of the Athysian nurture that she would have shared, if only the Fates had been more favouring...

She smirked, her teeth carrying a malicious hint, when Valia inquired again about the Harvest.

"Well, it might be better to show than tell." She pushed her fist against Valia's upper arm. "The Red Harvest is the reward of us all for this campaign. The best party you can get yourself in! We don't get to steal kids from others like your Jedi friends, so we gotta see to making our own..."

For some reason, this joke was simply too hilarious to avoid, in Hyara's mind. The laughter that followed did nothing to humble her intent.

 

[Valia Muqai]

Valia did not respond any further to Hyara's comments on the Jedi and her past. Even if she desired to correct her obvious misconceptions on the order she once served so diligently, she'd rather have the topic of her own past not be discussed any further.

Once more, Valia looked utterly flabbergasted at Hyara's explanation, which served to only add to the confusion she had of the entire society she found herself intermingling with. The expression on her face slowly shifted into a look of mild disgust as Hyara laughed. Less due to prudishness and more towards the thought of participating in a celebration dedicated to making children, shortly after decimating an entire planet no less.

"Eugh, why would I partake in that? I don't want to.... make children. Especially after all of this. " Valia scrunched up her nose as she continued the thought of it "Even that Theocha woman brought that idea up and refused to believe I can't even have one in the first place. Gosh, what is with you Athysians..."

 

[Hyara Hemstagon]

"Oh, you poor thing...!" Hyara laughed, standing up. She shook her malnourished hips, dusting off her cloth.
"Those Jedi of yours never showed you how to have a good time, did they?" she grinned her teeth. "I got discarded, chained and traded before I stepped on a ship. Now, I got my own pack! You can't know what you can do until you do it. Don't be like those Sithy losers... If you can't know the will of the Gods, you might just have your fun, see where it takes you."

She gestured to her to stand up, as she took a step forward.

"Come, you've been way too long away from home, I need to get you back in shape, lil sis...."

 

[Valia Muqai]

"I never saw the need for in the first place! That's why I never did it and that hasn't changed." Valia protested, letting out an exasperated sigh. Although her curiosity was piqued at the brief reveal of Hyara's past, she chose not to press on that matter further, knowing that she wouldn't want Hyara pushing for information on her past as well. That and her mind was more preoccupied with the incoming brand new type of horror that she may potentially experience soon.

She carefully slid off from the crate she was seated on, wincing at the brief bite of pain that she felt from her wounds at the act then following after Hyara. As disturbing everything seemed, Valia was at least glad that Hyara's intention didn't seem wholly malicious... for now.

 

[Hyara Hemstagon]

"Oh, whatever you say, dhranoe redin..." Hyara rolled her eye, shaking her head to the sound of Valia's statement. She though walked forth, noticing Valia followed, perhaps to a certain level of achievement.

"Ge wokel pring ghey vali, ghod rinen?!" Hyara barked towards the distance, where the Athysian members of her crew seemed to have gathered. There were the two men that had appeared before, though there were some dozen more, each in a varying age, or at least so it seemed.

The man who had accompanied Hyara initially turned to the two women, as they approached. He gestured his head to Valia, speaking to the Witch-Captain in the same strange tongue the Athysians seemed to use. His tone defiant, spitting each of his words. Hyara laughed to him, tapping Valia on the shoulder before nodding repeatedly, turning to him as she replied. Her response slow, enduring.

"You aren't one of us." he declared then, his fiery eyes turning to Valia. "But if the Captain says so, you won't bleed by our blades...."

"Always the welcoming prick, Antinon..." she muttered.

"Is that the new one?" a voice sounded from behind Antinon. As the latter made way, a rather aged man approached. His white hair significantly lessened by the lashing of the years flaying his back, his face baring marks of old wounds, as if it was but a fashion worn by everyone onboard the Hounds. Though this man too shared Antinon's fiery eyes, seemingly perpetually drown in the taint of the Dark Side, his voice was harsh, yet bore a level of sinister formality within it.
"I was looking forward to see who would replace Desior."

"She isn't there yet." Antinon corrected. "She isn't an Edikar. Just a warborn..."

"All the better." the aged corsair smiled. Most of his teeth replaced by metal. "Each new blade brings new tricks. They say she killed a battalion worth of the garrison single-handed. It's been awhile since I heard such rumour for you, Antinon..." the man did not hide the provocation in his words, as his eyes jumped to the man in question.

Antinon turned to face the man. He pointed a finger to him, shaking his head.

"Careful."

"You see?" Hyara pushed Valia with her shoulder. Excitment visibly building up in her by witnessing the scene. "You gotta love it when the boys go at it....!" she giggled.

 

[Valia Muqai]

Just as what she had done when she first arrived, Valia awkwardly a few steps behind Hyara listening to them converse with her companion in a language that she had no lick of understanding of. Until the man turned to express his displeasure at her presence, which did not surprise her, she could feel the taint of the dark side from them all and to expect a dark sider to be openly hospitable was foolish. Hyara seemed like an odd exception and both the Lord Hegemon and Theocha seem to just perceive her as a useful asset, somehow.

While she viewed Antinon as being no different from the Marauder thugs on the Dark Crusade, the older man was a different. Valia felt he'd be much more insidious with his intentions than the other, already she felt guarded against him. She did not comment on the supposed rumor, it was not an act she'd be proud to admit and the thought of what she did still pained her.

"I don't see the appeal at all. Just a petty spat. " Valia muttered as a response. Compared to Hyara, Valia looked almost bored with the two men. "Not like anything good will come from it."

 

[Hyara Hemstagon]

Hyara shook her head chuckling, as she extended her arm around Valia to hold her over the shoulders, in a flawless motion.

"You don't see, lil sis, thats why." she smiled. "So willing to bite one another for your favour... What you think they gonna do, by your command?"

Hyara's one-eyed glare spoke volumes. The very fact she was so unhinged speaking like such infront of her henchmen, even more so. Unlike the Sith, who bled one another in pursuit of renown and personal achievement, up until they eventually fell in the same circle of violence that had marked them out, the Athysians were in a constant quest for favour among their own, not themselves...

So willing were the two corsairs to challenge one another, perhaps even bleed, if necessary, all for nothing more than their Witch-Captain's look. Perhaps, in turn, Hyara herself would crave her own superior's, if any. Valia, perhaps, was not so quickly embraced by the Athysians because of origin, or will, or mercy, but because of what deeds she had been rumoured, or witnessed, performing.

Antinon shook his head to the older corsair, before turning and walking towards the camp.

"We better get going... Its nearly dusk..." his voice dismissive. An evident mask to his choice of avoiding further confrontation with his companion.

"Will she be joining us, Captain?" the old corsair gestured to Valia, as he looked at the Witch-Captain.

Hyara pushed Valia's shoulders against her momentarily, as if mimicking a gesture of what could only be nonexistent affection.

"Well, she does look like she's got a pike up her butt..." she smirked. "I say she could use some partying..."

"What say you?" Hyara turned her gaze to Valia, offering her a tense smile. "Wanna see how we break hips back in Athysia, sis?"

 

[Valia Muqai]

It was an interesting dynamic to see that helped diminish Valia's perception of the Athysians just being another off shoot of the Sith or the Dark Crusaders. They were corrupted down to their very bones that was for certain, but their hierarchy seemed to be quite different. Though to what extent it was too early to know for Valia, fighting for the favor of their superior was a trait both the Sith and Athysians shared though there was that at least.

Eventually one backed down from the confrontation before it escalated into a full fight, a wise choice most likely for his sake, Valia thought.

Valia couldn't give an answer to the old corsair and Hyara initially. The lack of personal space still made Valia deeply uncomfortable which Hyara could easily see on her face. She truly did not want to see or experience the debaucheries of the supposed Red Harvest, at the same time, she found herself not wanting to be left alone amongst strangers whom did not appreciate her presence much or potentially downright despise her. She did not trust Hyara, but at least the witch-captain was willing to protect her against displeased corsairs, and protection had been something Valia craved for a long while.

"I'll attend I guess, but I wont be participating in whatever.... " Valia's expression twisted into disgust again "you guys intend to do there. I told you, I'm not interested in that kind of stuff."

 

[Hyara Hemstagon]

Hyara bursted in laughter upon Valia's words.

"Sure, sis, you come break that hip, see if it gets that pole out!" she jested.

"Now, then, lets go, boys, TIME TO PARTYYYY!!!" Hyara cried out, her hands brought aloft into fists, in unmasked excitment.

---

The group walked down the battered streets of the city, as the dusk turned the skies crimson. Many of the corsair crews were still scattered across the ruins, seeking for any remaining loot in what seemed to be a sea of burned death, as the Athysians of the Warhost flocked down the street, making their way to the very same point. It was there, amidst the black cadaver of Omwat, where the hollow crater was located, caved deep by the apocalyptic energy of the Proton Bomb unleashed upon the world. As the dusk faded, the glittering of radioactive particles caused the sky to sparkle in thin clouds that were moved by the wind, under the hulking presence of the grotesque warships of Athysia, looming over the ruins like paladins of dark will so strong, now, every living creature beneath them was its herald.

There was cold.

Familiar cold; Yet it was so perfectly masked in the wasteland, it did not cause the sensation of the preying gloom. Laughter, cries and occasional brawls were common on the way to the site, which Hyara called Temple of Life.

The blast site was patched, with a large wall made of makeshift metal and scraps scavenged from the city surrounding it, erected to enough height to conceal any diablery orchestrated within it. Atop the wall, a crown of iron rods and pikes was welded, each dressed with an impaled cadaver stripped and marked with blasphemous glyphs that blazed pale in the night's darkness.

As Valia gazed up to the horrid crown of the Temple, shadows flew inbetween the spikes, too far to distinguish whether they were illusions of the lights cast inside the Temple, or entities that flocked to witness the massive event that was about to start.

Hyara picked Valia's hand, keeping her close, as the closer they got to the entrance, the thicker the mass attending. She led Valia through, occasionally shouting and greeting numerous of the attending Athysians. Their faces became so many, they all seemed like clones of the same person.

As they made their way inside, the Temple was revealed. An ocean of Athysians, some climbing on buned remnants that resembled islands that spired above, now decorated with numerous corsairs, hanging atop of the bent antennas, burned columns and collapsed structures like monkey-lizards on orchard trees.

"Take these!" Hyara whispered to Valia's ear, placing a handful of seeds into her palm. She winked at her. "You never know when you gonna need those! Now, come, its the Harvest! Tonight you come back to us, lil sis!"

Her voice had strangely a sense of hope; of compassion; As if the very will to brand Valia as one of her own was indeed sincere, regardless of the grim layers that buried it deep...

Drums suddenly bursted aloud. In the far depth, a stage was set up on the carrion of what could be recognized as a crashed warship hull, now serving as the base for the dozens of large circular drums set up, in the depth of the scene.

The buzzing of fighters added to the cacophony from above, as a possessing feeling of thrill washed the gathered masses, as if the very gathering caused a shockwave in the Force herself...

The Red Harvest, had begun...

 

[Valia Muqai]

The closer they got to their destination, the more and more Valia felt uncertain of her choice to come with them to the Red Harvest at all. Omwat around them had become nothing, but a desolated wasteland where the Athysian Corsairs scavenged the ruins of what the planet once was like vultures. It became colder and colder, occasionally she'd feel flashes of heat against her skin from the radiation surrounding the crater. Something that didn't concern the Athysians as much as it did with Valia, not that health was a priority for any of them at that point.

The makeshift temple that the massive crater was turned into truly made Valia question how much time had passed since she had slaughtered the inhabitants of the barracks. Surely they could not have built that all within a day. That thought bothered her far more than any defiled corpse hanging from the spiked walls or any severed heads on displayed, after spending time with the Dark Crusade, she had grown numbed to seeing such things.

Everything became utterly overwhelming for Valia the moment they passed through the crowded entrance. From the huge crowd, the chaotic sounds that they deem to be music, the grim sight, the buzzing fighters in the air, and the sensations through the Force. She immediately wanted to leave or find some corner to hide into that didn't feel so exposing and vulnerable. Valia clung onto Hyara, not holding her, but close enough to stand shoulder to shoulder and Valia dared not stray away. Desperate time indeed that the women she distrusted and just met not long ago became the lifeline to her sanity there.

"What.... what are these supposed to be for?! " Valia asked as she held the seeds within her hand, continuing to be utterly confused.

 

[Desmundor Alcademon]

Triumph.

Glory.

Legacy.

His Triumph came upon the capturing of Darth Fauste. Battles fought across the stars, farther still than any other Athysian ever ventured before him.

Glory followed, with the conquest of Omwat, and the fall of the last remaining Republic stronghold in the Sector, now, finally, under the Dark Crusade's control. What had taken years for the Sith to achieve, and yet they never did, Desmundor and his Raider Fleet, by the will of the Gods and the strength of his mighty Warhost, had been achieved in but a single strike. The Jedi had fled. The Republic had fallen. their armies scattered, and their peoples brought into slavery. Losses mattered little. They were little. But the achievement undeniable.

Now, the time had come for the Hegemon to see to its Legacy. A gift from the Black Lord, the breaking of centuries of misfortunes, now pledged into a night of redemption. Omwat had been put to the sword. Many champions had perished. Desmundor reasoned, such would be a righteous crusade, and such prize one just to be paid, for the Red Harvest.

"Lord Hegemon!"

Desmundor halted his pace. His gaze turned over his shoulder, towards where the voice beckoned from. Amidst the sea of people, he recognized the familiar face. Desmundor reached for a handshake, and the armoured man, dressed with the bloodied leather armour of a Lonchophor, answered.

"Damok" Desmundor nodded, speaking the name with the weight of memory. He remembered Damok, oh so many years ago. He was barely a blooded warrior, when he followed him into exile. He was with Reida, his most trusted companion, who gave her life in the battles that paved the path for his ascension to the throne of Bassilicor. Damok had grown now. After the Battle of the Void Sea, against the forces of the Starborn Sect, Damok had made himself known, and had become the captain of his own phalanx. Omwat was yet another success, in the trail of blood in his wake, brandishing the mark of the Hegemon's most trusted warriors.

Damok did not smile. He offered a nod of acknowledgement. Desmundor's eyes turned to Damok's belt around the waist, where two lightsaber hilts were attached. He shook his head.

"You fought well, I see." Desmundor intoned.

"This planet had no champion to offer me a bout, Lord Hegemon."

"Give them time... They will catch up!" Desmundor mocked. "Come, now." he said. "The Harvest awaits you."

Lagging few steps behind the Hegemon, the bald priestess stood firm, her red eyes observing the surroundings as the celebration unfolded before them. Theocha did not share the overwhelming excitment of the Athysian horde that had flocked to the site. She was a steadfast presence, resembling an ethereal apparition bound in flesh rather than a mortal creature plagued by emotions, for her near-skeletal face offered none.

Her hands, wrapped in tight leather, brought before her abdomen, revealed from under the long sleeve of her elegant dress.

I sense blood. Hot, and unfitting.

Her voice echoed in the air, yet it was presented to none but one. She had been on the Hegemon's side for the better part of the past decade. Ever since the fall of Bassilicor, the omens had been clear, and she had stayed loyal to the interpretations she herself had deciphered. The Red Harvest, was the beginning of the New Age. There could be nothing that would intervene with the will of the Gods, and she had seen to make sure of it. Unlike the Athysian Hegenika, battling against foes and each other alike, the Crimson Star Circle fought a war in the unseen fabric of the Force. Their crusades were of blind clairvoyance and challenges that stretched beyond the linearity of time, and that was why Theocha had brought champions that did not fight in wars of the mortal world, regardless how much some craved that they did...

Cuuaghil Mas.

She only needed one. And it was to him, for whom her voice sung through the fabric of the Force. For only he knew the war they waged. Only he, among the numberless souls in the Harvest, knew the will of the Gods like no other.

The Hegemon shall see the eyes of Hate. Only the Faceless Hate must witness. All others, offerings to the River.

@Petros Papadopoulos

 

[Petros Papadopoulos]

Petros Papadopoulos, or Cuuaghil Mas as he'd been dubbed by the Church for his quitude in slaughter, gave merely a nod to the Priestess's voice echoing in his mind above the din of debauchery unfolding in the crater. He'd stood by the wall, silent, watching. Uncaring for the material nature of his kin. Many could argue he should have been with them, a champion, even if his name was known by few save his mother and the gods. A man devoted to his masters. The lightsaber concealed beneath his cape a manifestation of his latest victory, yet one he dared not boast.

Slowly, his thick armour shifted as he moved from his position to join Theocha and Desmundor, others, once deep in conversation or merrymaking, stood aside, the darkness floating off of him like a wave far more intense than most, the copper scent of blood following in his wake.

Yet, for just a moment, the towering paladin of the Crimson Star paused, his head snapping abruptly to a young Hemstagon woman he'd never seen before, or so she appeared in his eyes. Petro's nostrils flared, his thoughts telling him this person was important, somehow. That she would be an instrument of the very Gods he'd dedicated himself to serve since birth.

Without warning, he shifted through the crowd in silence before suddenly appearing behind her, her words, spoken to non-other than the One-Eyed vulture muted to his ears beneath his helmet. With pollaxe in hand, he reached with his left before grasping something around his waist and tugging, the quiet snapping of a chain following.

Petros pulled forth an amulet emblazoned with the Crimson Star, the metal drenched in dried blood, which he dropped into her outstretched hand from behind her. "Blessing of the Gods be upon you."

The Paladin stated in his native tongue, his voice deep and firm, yet muffled beneath his helmet. His eyes briefly met her's as the youth turned abruptly to glimpse his form before he departed, disappearing into the crowd as though he were never there.

 

[Murnuri Hemstagon]

"That's if you change your mind on the riding bit..." Hyara laughed.

"You are with us now, sis! Let loose!" She reached to Valia's shoulder, pushing her to cause her body to turn on her heels, before wrapping her hand around her in an ungentle hug over the waists. Her free hand pointing up, her palm spread widely as if to sense the taint of the Force around them.

"Cast away your past!" she called out in Valia's ear, as the cries of excitment by the crowd had become far too loud. Each of Hyara's words felt like witchcraft, yet none of her senses could feel any taint beyond the very words themselves. "Empty it all! Then, you rejoice!"

---

A sudden wave spread in the Force. In moments, a touch of cold extended like a tidal wave, by the combined unbeknownst concentration of all the gathered Athysians, twisting like a Hivemind into a single frequency, reverberating across the Temple.

Over the stage, the black thin fabric dress of the Eyerhea danced in the wind. Her pale face stained by black tears perpetualized on her cheek, sprouting from within the emptied eye sockets. Her long white hair let loose, beneath the hood. Her dress elegant in its simplicity, adorned by occult glyphs knitted in golden thread. The very appearance of her at the stage magnetized the eyes of the crowd below by her mesmerising appearance.

She reached out with her hands, her leg bending forth; her bare pale skin revealed beneath the thin fabric that separated. Flesh turned into a canvas for endless columns of glyphic tattoos, each yet another enchantment to the spell she cast. As her hands extended, her wrists cracked and bent to the rhythm of the drums, the invisible touch in the Force causing the engines of the two Buzzard fighters to roar by her sides, as she begun the choreographed ritual. There was no singing required, her voice spoken in the Force, a most seductive ode that rung in manner most outworldly. As the Eyerhea performed on the stage, the crowd below gave in to the ecstasy of the ritual, indulging in a dance that invoked sensation.

Hyara jumped in place repeatedly to the sound of the primitive music, her head lashing left and right, casting her braids across as she did. Nearby, an Athysian witch, dressed in crimson velvet decorated by numerous chains and overlapping thin fabrics twisted and bent, as if in mimicking of the Eyerhea's own motions; Each of them whispering in the archaic language spoken by the Athysians, each of the women partaking further enhancing the effect of the ritual.

From within the crowd, a hand wrapped around the throat of the witch, caressing her as he reached and pulled her against his chestguard. The Witch seemed to offer no resistence, if not anticipating the act, moving her palm up by her neck, where the man's face dove. From in her palm, she produced the handful of hallucinogenic herbs, feeding them to the man, as her body slithered against his'. The man indulged to her motion, wrapping his hands around her, his motions becoming all the more intimate, casting away the fabric of her dress, as he pulled her back, the two eventually consumed by the crowd.

Across the Temple, the depraved celebration continued, as the shadows over the grotesque crown whirled and manifested, hollow presence, spectating the massive ritual, as the very Nexus of Omwat twisted to the taint of the Dark Side that graced the planet feeding all senses and twisting the minds into the ecstasy, as the Warhost venerated their Dark Pantheon...

"We are one" Hyara sung to Valia, as her eye was shadowed by black mist.

Cold was replaced by the sensation of a flame's heat, burning far, calling for Valia to approach...