HomeThe Power Within
Star Wars: Legends of The Force :: Legends of The Force - Galactic Roleplay and Factions :: Interstellar Adventures
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The Power Within
by Bandari Tue Jul 23, 2019 12:59 pm
Dathomir
From within his cave, he could see. Generations of sentients had come and gone, all of them drawn to what emanated from beneath them, what he could not control. Now, the world was far from what it had been, centuries of war over its resources - both in terms of its populations, and otherwise - and the once dense jungle was withered and dying, settlements long abandoned. Yet he still saw, just the same. He had seen the rise and fall of empires, of republics, of those who wield the Force one way and those who wield it another. It was always distant, even when it was close, yet now, as he looked deeper, he was met with searing light.
And then, he heard. He heard the pain. It was coming for him. Something, somewhere, somehow, had been alerted to his presence. Whether they knew of him or not was not something he could see, or hear. He would have to find out.
His eyes opened, and for the first time in years, he stood, his muscles cramping, having been kept from atrophy by willpower alone. His blades remained sharp, and for the first time in centuries, he picked them up, feeling the pressure of the rear of the crescent shapes against his greying, dried skin. He noticed, as he ran a withered hand over his head and face, refamiliarising himself with memories of the sensation of touch, that he had developed small horns on the top of his head. The influence of the Zabrak had been stronger on him than he had thought. Even without the means to view his own reflection, although he could have seen himself in the pools of water that collected from the rains that seeped through closer to the surface, he knew he was still honouring the faces of his parents, without any memory of either of them. For it had been at least twenty thousand years since their corporeal forms last walked on a planet in the galaxy that he could see.
Whatever it was drew closer, the light growing brighter and more painful, the noise piercing deeper into his skull. He did not want to shut it out just yet. He had forgotten how much he enjoyed a change of pace.
From within his cave, he could see. Generations of sentients had come and gone, all of them drawn to what emanated from beneath them, what he could not control. Now, the world was far from what it had been, centuries of war over its resources - both in terms of its populations, and otherwise - and the once dense jungle was withered and dying, settlements long abandoned. Yet he still saw, just the same. He had seen the rise and fall of empires, of republics, of those who wield the Force one way and those who wield it another. It was always distant, even when it was close, yet now, as he looked deeper, he was met with searing light.
And then, he heard. He heard the pain. It was coming for him. Something, somewhere, somehow, had been alerted to his presence. Whether they knew of him or not was not something he could see, or hear. He would have to find out.
His eyes opened, and for the first time in years, he stood, his muscles cramping, having been kept from atrophy by willpower alone. His blades remained sharp, and for the first time in centuries, he picked them up, feeling the pressure of the rear of the crescent shapes against his greying, dried skin. He noticed, as he ran a withered hand over his head and face, refamiliarising himself with memories of the sensation of touch, that he had developed small horns on the top of his head. The influence of the Zabrak had been stronger on him than he had thought. Even without the means to view his own reflection, although he could have seen himself in the pools of water that collected from the rains that seeped through closer to the surface, he knew he was still honouring the faces of his parents, without any memory of either of them. For it had been at least twenty thousand years since their corporeal forms last walked on a planet in the galaxy that he could see.
Whatever it was drew closer, the light growing brighter and more painful, the noise piercing deeper into his skull. He did not want to shut it out just yet. He had forgotten how much he enjoyed a change of pace.
Re: The Power Within
by Emperor Cadamor Wed Jul 24, 2019 10:52 am
The shuttle ripped through storm clouds, the roaring red engines casting crimson-stained shadows along dry, open land below. Black metal fins swung around the ship, flanking its descent as it kicked up clouds of dust and sand in the lilac night air. The shuttle came to rest along the wall of the wild jungle, settling in the shade of the gigantic uneti trees that mark the edges of the blue wastes. There was no insignia on the vessel, no markings, nothing that indicated the long journey it had made or what it hid inside.
Steam poured out of the ship as the boarding ramp lowered to the patched earth below. In the stillness of the wasteland, there were marching boots now coming into the fading light. Two rows of ten red-skinned aliens, each with large horns twisting above or around their skulls, carefully moving together onto the world. Each of them were adorned in golden bronze plates across their chest and dark brown warrior’s garb, some clutching long silver-blue spears and others with halberds and pole-arms. In their ranks, they possessed strange dark tattoos and markings and no two armors were alike, but each warrior was broad-chested, quiet, and menacing.
From the top of the ramp, the Dark Lord of the Sith emerged in stillness and shadows. He stood a head taller than the largest warrior, his horns stretched out high above him towards the twilight sky. He had florid crimson skin with fierce bone spurs on his chin and chest. His eyes were pale white, the edges of invisible irises glowing faintly yellow as they surveyed the desolate world.
“Do you sense it, mykalun?” A dark, guttural voice spoke from within the belly of the ship. It was another of the red-skinned Ankgorian but this one was tall and lean, clad in black silk robes with golden lining. Umbarat approached his master, kneeling before the mykalun, his God-King, and Emperor.
Darth Cadamor descended. His black armor shone in the rising moon as tiny pieces of the Orbalisk shifted across his chest. The planet was quiet. The jungle stirred ahead of them, but the Sith could feel the decay festering on Dathomir. Many of the Nightsisters has fled the world to find shelter in his growing Empire, bringing both their wild and tamed rancors. Cadamor moved past his subjects and approached the jungle’s veil.
"The world aches." Umbarat said.
"It has awakened." The Emperor's voice was honeyed and low. "Deal with the witches." Their Matron still hid on this world, regrowing and protecting her followers as they healed their wounds bought in the Inquisition. He recalled their ferocity fighting the Galactic Triumvirate as their dark magics ripped apart their enemies. His apprentice would meet with the Mother, but most importantly cover the Dark Lord's true intentions on the desolate world.
Umbarat bowed low before moving back towards the ship, a single disk-shaped speeder-bike slowly moving towards the faded forest floor. It hissed to life as the Sith apprentice rocketed out into the growing darkness. Cadamor reached out through the Force, feeling it's tendrils grip and move across the world. He had sensed it from across the galaxy. Something stirring on the witch's world, though it's nature eluded him. A wound in the Force or perhaps an echo, something strange and unnatural brimming with darkness and malice.
"You will bring it to me." The Emperor said as the trees before him shifted and swayed in his presence, clearing a path ahead. "Hidden in the base of the mountains above, find the cave." The warriors each stiffened before moving together swiftly into the fog of the forest. The Dark Lord remained still, letting the night air chill him as he meditated on the rot building on the world, a sliver of his soul mourning the warriors he sent to their sure death.
Steam poured out of the ship as the boarding ramp lowered to the patched earth below. In the stillness of the wasteland, there were marching boots now coming into the fading light. Two rows of ten red-skinned aliens, each with large horns twisting above or around their skulls, carefully moving together onto the world. Each of them were adorned in golden bronze plates across their chest and dark brown warrior’s garb, some clutching long silver-blue spears and others with halberds and pole-arms. In their ranks, they possessed strange dark tattoos and markings and no two armors were alike, but each warrior was broad-chested, quiet, and menacing.
From the top of the ramp, the Dark Lord of the Sith emerged in stillness and shadows. He stood a head taller than the largest warrior, his horns stretched out high above him towards the twilight sky. He had florid crimson skin with fierce bone spurs on his chin and chest. His eyes were pale white, the edges of invisible irises glowing faintly yellow as they surveyed the desolate world.
“Do you sense it, mykalun?” A dark, guttural voice spoke from within the belly of the ship. It was another of the red-skinned Ankgorian but this one was tall and lean, clad in black silk robes with golden lining. Umbarat approached his master, kneeling before the mykalun, his God-King, and Emperor.
Darth Cadamor descended. His black armor shone in the rising moon as tiny pieces of the Orbalisk shifted across his chest. The planet was quiet. The jungle stirred ahead of them, but the Sith could feel the decay festering on Dathomir. Many of the Nightsisters has fled the world to find shelter in his growing Empire, bringing both their wild and tamed rancors. Cadamor moved past his subjects and approached the jungle’s veil.
"The world aches." Umbarat said.
"It has awakened." The Emperor's voice was honeyed and low. "Deal with the witches." Their Matron still hid on this world, regrowing and protecting her followers as they healed their wounds bought in the Inquisition. He recalled their ferocity fighting the Galactic Triumvirate as their dark magics ripped apart their enemies. His apprentice would meet with the Mother, but most importantly cover the Dark Lord's true intentions on the desolate world.
Umbarat bowed low before moving back towards the ship, a single disk-shaped speeder-bike slowly moving towards the faded forest floor. It hissed to life as the Sith apprentice rocketed out into the growing darkness. Cadamor reached out through the Force, feeling it's tendrils grip and move across the world. He had sensed it from across the galaxy. Something stirring on the witch's world, though it's nature eluded him. A wound in the Force or perhaps an echo, something strange and unnatural brimming with darkness and malice.
"You will bring it to me." The Emperor said as the trees before him shifted and swayed in his presence, clearing a path ahead. "Hidden in the base of the mountains above, find the cave." The warriors each stiffened before moving together swiftly into the fog of the forest. The Dark Lord remained still, letting the night air chill him as he meditated on the rot building on the world, a sliver of his soul mourning the warriors he sent to their sure death.
Last edited by Emperor Cadamor on Tue Jul 30, 2019 7:27 pm; edited 1 time in total
Re: The Power Within
by Bandari Wed Jul 24, 2019 11:34 am
He had not felt a presence like this in such proximity for a long time. Many powerful beings had come to Dathomir over the centuries, attracted to the natural harmony of the beasts of the world and the way they existed with the Force, unwittingly or knowingly. The raw power that could be fed upon often corrupted those who were not prepared for it, and equally, could fuel the more ambitious among those who could harness it. The one who had come to the world - more than one, as it was, but one presence stood out far beyond any other, the piercing tip of the arrowhead now burrowing towards him - was clearly powerful. And yet, for the strength that lashed out with every step, there was something broken about it.
For the first time in a thousand years, the sound of voices echoed through the cave. Many had been drawn to it, seldom knowing of the existence of this particular network, but caves were commonplace on the world, eroded into existence by the bouts of rainfall and the roots of the jungle trees that had long since died. Around the entrance to this cave, the trees were always twisted and withered, even when the world was lush and green. Those who stumbled unawares upon it, not attuned to the Force and how it steered them there, still could sense that something was off. An intuition that made hairs stand on necks, sent shivers down spines, and raised hair follicles on skin. They never dared venture inside.
Those that did sense the power within and did attempt to seek it out usually did so alone. The furthest one had ventured had been too long for him to remember, and although he tried, no communication had been possible. The creature had attacked, and it had been slain. In that moment, Bandari remembered his name.
Bandari did not seek conflict. He had seen countless war, all from within the cave. He had been birthed into a galaxy about to descend into war, back when peoples were first traversing the stars and mapping them out to claim territory for themselves; an endeavour that had, when the first clashes began, set a near perpetual state of warfare into motion. The galaxy was broken too, and so many had tried and failed to successfully undertake the mission of putting it back together again.
At times, the sun would filter through small openings in the caves and provide a red light, at others, the moon might reflect on the water pools and provide a silver light in the darkness, Bandari remembered. He had not opened his eyes for so long, he had forgotten what it was like to see. The caves were not particularly complicated, as some could be, and it would not take someone that long to find their way to his chamber if they were able to overcome the stifling nature of his presence. He didn't know what he himself felt like, how it was to see him or hear him. That was one of the few things he had never been able to understand.
The voices grew louder and words, although Bandari did not understand them, became more audible. As he saw and listened to the galaxy, he had learned thousands of languages, many now extinct, as the Force manifested itself in images and patterns in his brain so that he could understand more clearly what he was seeing. This was a tounge he did not know, but he instantly recognised the look of those who spoke it - tall, red skinned, horned. Like Devaronians, but rippling with far greater physical presence, and far less capable mentally. Although no race had come close to achieving their capacity. Not since the Rakata. The humans were different. Humans continued to raise the bar of their own capability. That was one of the most fascinating things to Bandari.
Small beams of light became visible as the group of beings moved closer, utilising personal light sources, likely attached to weapons. Bandari knew that this would be a conflict as soon as that light had first pierced his vision, which was why he now crouched atop the rock that made for the centre of his chamber, atop the biggest of the water pools, his grey skin illumined by the light from above. Clenched into fists, he held the full hand-sized grip of his weapons, which had a clasp that wrapped around his lean forearms. The hilt was part of an ornately decorated centre, from which a pair of blades extended in a crescent shape, one going under his arm, the other extending out. Unlike many weapons, his blades were not retractable, nor did they vibrate. They were made with a metal twisted by the Force, mined elsewhere but refined on Korriban under the rule of Naga Sadow, and Bandari did not remember how he had come to possess them. They were his crescents, and he had named them Wax and Wane.
The voices grew closer. To his disappointment, Bandari quickly realised that the power he had sensed earlier was not among them. Yet as he realised this, his excitement grew. To have the willpower to drive minions into the cave, and keep them descending the few dozen metres to meet him in his chamber, indicated that this being was even more powerful than he had anticipated. In the past, strong Force users had come to try and seek him out, and never had they been able to encourage others to make the descent. The only ones that could were non-organics, and it was easy to fry the circuitry of a droid.
Recently, Bandari remembered, one of his own kin had been on the world. The scent of a Talortai was unmistakable. Yet just as quickly as it had arrived, it had vanished. Bandari always wondered what became of that one. It had been the last time he had considered leaving his cave. But he had not even opened his eyes. Now, his eyes were fixed on the entrance to his chamber and the beams of light, growing ever closer, the voices clearly perceptible. There were tremors to them, pressed down underneath as each individual tried to cover the unease they felt. Bandari extended his presence along the ripples in the Force that these beings were inadvertently feeling, sensitive or no, to turn that unease into fear. To make them question why they were there, to doubt one another, to dream of home and safety. And above all, to challenge the authority of the one who had sent them to Bandari. It would be a fine test of that seemingly-so-potent willpower.
For the first time in a thousand years, the sound of voices echoed through the cave. Many had been drawn to it, seldom knowing of the existence of this particular network, but caves were commonplace on the world, eroded into existence by the bouts of rainfall and the roots of the jungle trees that had long since died. Around the entrance to this cave, the trees were always twisted and withered, even when the world was lush and green. Those who stumbled unawares upon it, not attuned to the Force and how it steered them there, still could sense that something was off. An intuition that made hairs stand on necks, sent shivers down spines, and raised hair follicles on skin. They never dared venture inside.
Those that did sense the power within and did attempt to seek it out usually did so alone. The furthest one had ventured had been too long for him to remember, and although he tried, no communication had been possible. The creature had attacked, and it had been slain. In that moment, Bandari remembered his name.
Bandari did not seek conflict. He had seen countless war, all from within the cave. He had been birthed into a galaxy about to descend into war, back when peoples were first traversing the stars and mapping them out to claim territory for themselves; an endeavour that had, when the first clashes began, set a near perpetual state of warfare into motion. The galaxy was broken too, and so many had tried and failed to successfully undertake the mission of putting it back together again.
At times, the sun would filter through small openings in the caves and provide a red light, at others, the moon might reflect on the water pools and provide a silver light in the darkness, Bandari remembered. He had not opened his eyes for so long, he had forgotten what it was like to see. The caves were not particularly complicated, as some could be, and it would not take someone that long to find their way to his chamber if they were able to overcome the stifling nature of his presence. He didn't know what he himself felt like, how it was to see him or hear him. That was one of the few things he had never been able to understand.
The voices grew louder and words, although Bandari did not understand them, became more audible. As he saw and listened to the galaxy, he had learned thousands of languages, many now extinct, as the Force manifested itself in images and patterns in his brain so that he could understand more clearly what he was seeing. This was a tounge he did not know, but he instantly recognised the look of those who spoke it - tall, red skinned, horned. Like Devaronians, but rippling with far greater physical presence, and far less capable mentally. Although no race had come close to achieving their capacity. Not since the Rakata. The humans were different. Humans continued to raise the bar of their own capability. That was one of the most fascinating things to Bandari.
Small beams of light became visible as the group of beings moved closer, utilising personal light sources, likely attached to weapons. Bandari knew that this would be a conflict as soon as that light had first pierced his vision, which was why he now crouched atop the rock that made for the centre of his chamber, atop the biggest of the water pools, his grey skin illumined by the light from above. Clenched into fists, he held the full hand-sized grip of his weapons, which had a clasp that wrapped around his lean forearms. The hilt was part of an ornately decorated centre, from which a pair of blades extended in a crescent shape, one going under his arm, the other extending out. Unlike many weapons, his blades were not retractable, nor did they vibrate. They were made with a metal twisted by the Force, mined elsewhere but refined on Korriban under the rule of Naga Sadow, and Bandari did not remember how he had come to possess them. They were his crescents, and he had named them Wax and Wane.
The voices grew closer. To his disappointment, Bandari quickly realised that the power he had sensed earlier was not among them. Yet as he realised this, his excitement grew. To have the willpower to drive minions into the cave, and keep them descending the few dozen metres to meet him in his chamber, indicated that this being was even more powerful than he had anticipated. In the past, strong Force users had come to try and seek him out, and never had they been able to encourage others to make the descent. The only ones that could were non-organics, and it was easy to fry the circuitry of a droid.
Recently, Bandari remembered, one of his own kin had been on the world. The scent of a Talortai was unmistakable. Yet just as quickly as it had arrived, it had vanished. Bandari always wondered what became of that one. It had been the last time he had considered leaving his cave. But he had not even opened his eyes. Now, his eyes were fixed on the entrance to his chamber and the beams of light, growing ever closer, the voices clearly perceptible. There were tremors to them, pressed down underneath as each individual tried to cover the unease they felt. Bandari extended his presence along the ripples in the Force that these beings were inadvertently feeling, sensitive or no, to turn that unease into fear. To make them question why they were there, to doubt one another, to dream of home and safety. And above all, to challenge the authority of the one who had sent them to Bandari. It would be a fine test of that seemingly-so-potent willpower.