Ask Retracing Steps

[Darth Raze]

He had been on this planet more times than he could count. He had a reputation here - a terrible one. He had almost destroyed the planet entirely because Renfry had disobeyed him. Even then, he had ascended himself to become a conduit of the Force to represent an icon to the Nightsisters. They feared him as they respected him, and he remained a mysterious enigma to them all.

The Dark Lord usually only ventured here to seek out Renfry, but he knew she wasn’t here today. Clad in his trademark armor, he quietly strode towards one of the ancient temples deep in the forests of the planet. It had been abandoned when he first discovered it as a teen, back when he first met Renfry, but it still pulsed with that same life it had back then. Today it was reconstructed and cleaned up, serving as a sanctuary for Nightsisters to practice their craft.

Whispers preceded him as he made his way towards the temple. He stood in silence, much taller than he was the last time he was here and far more powerful. The Force pulsed through him, a chill always trailing him wherever he went.

Today was an important day for Nightsister hopefuls that would face their trials within the temple and unlock higher studies of magick. There were groups of young women standing about and designated Nightsisters to oversee the rituals.

He could feel many gazes on him and he could practically smell the fear. And yet, he simply observed from where he stood, drinking in the Dark Side energies that manifested all around the temple.

 

[Arla]

Renfry had left Dathomir during these trials in order to allow Arla - as First Sister of Dathomir - to oversee the proceedings. It was a first step in preparation for her to one day become Queen, and although Arla had had plenty of opportunities to set up Govenors and make alliance on other planets, none came even close in personal importance to her as Dathomir.

Regaled in a full royal get-up with an elaborate headdress and bright red robes, she was already nervous enough about this. The approaching presence that echoed throughout Dathoimr's Spirit-world, however, was far more unsettling and only served to amplify things.

Oh kriff, oh kriff, she thought to herself as she felt him growing closer. Did Mother know about this? She didn't warn me? she thought to herself. She was confident that Queen Renfry would have known precisely what to do and how to handle this. But she was not her mother.

She clenched a fist so hard at her side that her knuckles popped, and after allowing herself approximately five more seconds of panic, she clenched her teeth, stood, and prepared to meet their new guest.

His story... was one she knew of well. Of course she knew of it. As both a Nightsister and a Sith, his role in both organizations had been... the center of many people's attentions. She knew that he had been instrumental in bringing her mother to power and she also knew that there were many who still saw him as the Fanged Spirit's representative in the galaxy... His will given form. For her part... she wasn't sure. Not for his lack of power by any means or his connection to the Fanged Spirit, but for his absence from Dathomir and how... evasive her mother had always been about him.

The reality was, however, that as as Sith he outranked her to a laughable degree, and as a Nightsister he was... well, he was something of an icon among her people.

Despite the internal terror she was feeling, she moved with graceful and deliberate steps, neither too fast nor too slow. To act like prey around a predator was nothing but a death sentence, but she knew it was all an act. He was well-reputed for being perceptive, and all she could hope was that he didn't immediately know the truth. Act as if, she told herself. She may be fearful - and he would know that - but she would not allow it to guide her actions. She would act befitting of her position whether she felt like it or not. That was what it meant to be Queen.

She stopped several feet from the Dark Lord and gave a slight bow of respect. My Lord Raze. Welcome to our Trials, you honor us with your presence, she said. Her silvery eyes flecked with small tinges of gold around the edges looked up into that nameless, faceless mask of death. A mask that betrayed nothing and in the face of which she found herself wishing... wishing her mother was here. As much as she hated trading on the names of anyone else, there was a certain sense of security that she had a safety net. That security was gone, and she was left to truly sink or swim on her own. She, however, was determined. She had already begun to build a kingdom in the Sith on her own, and she would flee from no challenge.

Would you like to join me to sit, eat, and judge the Trials, she asked.

 

[Darth Raze]

The Dark Lord gave no indication that he heard Arla’s words. In fact, his visor didn’t even tilt to regard her just yet, his gaze fixed well above her head and towards the temple behind her. Her mother would have warned her of this - it was near impossible to tell what the Dark Lord was thinking or whether he was even listening. There was a slightly uncomfortable silence as she stood there, left to wallow in the spirals of her own doubts.

After a few more seconds, the visor slowly tilted to where she would know he was looking at her. But she wouldn’t know that the same, exact silver eyes were staring back at her from behind the helmet. Or that his ears twitched just the slightest bit beneath the helmet just as hers did without either of them meaning for it.

“I will join,” The heavily modulated voice stated curtly. He didn’t wait for her as he started to walk, his taller strides already putting him ahead of her towards a place to sit.

 

[Arla]

Arla was decent at reading people with the Shadow and almost worthless without it. He was giving off absolutely no passive emotion or impression to her in the Shadow, and that made her feel as if she were listening to a holovid without any sound or subtitles. She wasn't foolish enough to try to pry into his mind, so instead, she stood there for a moment debating.

Am I just a nuisance to him? Should I just... go away? she wondered. She started counting to ten in her mind and had decided if she got to ten without a response, she would leave, assuming she was a nuisance. She got to eight before he said something.

Well, he hadn't squashed her, so that was a good thing. This wasn't some old score to settle between he and her mother where he'd come back to kill her while Mother was gone. That was good, yeah.

He started striding off and she started walking after him, realizing that this pace she was keeping was not working, and doing one of those little hop-skips to gain some pace before bringing her speed up closer to matching his.

One of the Nightsisters moved aside to make room for another seat at the table, and Arla returned to her seat.

We have wine, juices, and several of our finest cuts of bolma, she said, having absolutely no idea if he would want any of it - given his propensity for keeping his helmet on - or having any idea that he was vegetarian. Dathomirians were a society of carnivores and Arla's own taste for veggie snacks was one that was highly unusual.

This is the Trial of Elevation, she said. He would be able to see pillars rising and falling across the "battleground." The Sisters competed with one another within the arena, looking for advantages and ways to overcome their competitors.

Combatants can form alliances or fight alone, she said. She got the distinct impression that when speaking with him, less was more, so she kept any and all explanations brief.

 

[Darth Raze]

He took a seat next to Arla, the furniture protesting under his massive frame. He knew it would hold, so he wasn’t too concerned. The Dark Lord didn’t bother with any refreshments, recoiling slightly from any of the meat dishes offered. He quietly observed the trials as Arla explained - he knew how it worked, but he hadn’t witnessed a trial like this before.

“I’ve tested prospects before,” He said after another long moment of silence. It was back when Renfry was observing the combat trials and he tested and taught a few of the girls. There was a raw and methodical nature the Nightsisters had that he could relate with.

“Do you wish to follow in your mother’s footsteps?” He asked as he reached for a goblet carved from stone. He inspected it from multiple angles, though he did not reach for a drink. The question would reveal instantly that he knew more about her than she did about him. The air around him was as frigid as ever, and his presence always pulsed like a chilling force of nature that was both a part of this world but also unnatural.

 

[Arla]

Yes, of course he did. You didn't get to be Dark Lord without being quite familiar with how your underlings fought. Though she didn't recall him taking many apprentices of her own. Allegedly, Tia had trained under him in days gone by, but she'd been a Master now for many years.

Of course, she said, not fully comprehending the meaning behind his statement. Although she knew who her namesake was and the sacrifice she had made against the Eternal, she didn't know that the young Nightsister had once faced off with Raze himself in a sparring match.

She watched the woman clamber over the obstacles and then drop on one another. There was no question that of the ten combatants, three were absolutely dominating while several others were only getting by. One of the girls was notably falling short.

His question as he examined the goblet caught her off guard for... well, a lot of reasons. Why did he care about her? Was he... looking for a new apprentice? Was he just trying to be social? Somehow she couldn't conceive that it was the latter.

To her credit, her face remained stony no matter how little she felt that confidence inside at the moment.

Darth Andruil accomplished great things, she said. Would she want to become Queen? Empress? Something else entirely? Queen perhaps, but the rest? She didn't really know... maybe that was why she had gone to the Sith in the first place.

But I want to follow my own footsteps, she said. How could you follow your own footsteps? That was probably a dumb thing to say. Or rather, blaze my own trail, she corrected.

She was about to ask him why he'd come here, but then it occurred to her that was a foolish question, wasn't it? This wasn't a coincidence. He hadn't "accidentally" arrived when her mother was away. She didn't know why, but she knew that he had come for her. As much as she wanted to she kept herself from simply blurting out the question of why, letting things unfold as they would for now.

 

[Darth Raze]

He watched the women competing, the girl that fell behind losing her grip and toppling to the ground. The Dark Lord stared in silence, “What is the punishment for failure?” He asked as he looked at the girl that was peeling herself off the ground. He could sense the fear and anguish whirling in her mind.

He set the goblet down, making it clear he wouldn’t be eating or drinking anything here. He could feel many eyes on him and he ignored it all. Arla’s words ran through his thoughts. He had been one to forge his own path and he had proven it to the galaxy. Would she do the same? No one wanted to be in the shadows of their parents, and yet few could ever climb out from underneath it.

“Have you created your own grimoire?” He asked after a moment, thinking back to Renfry’s own. It had been the key to his insight into magick and it took true skill to construct and author a book like that and it was a testament to one’s wisdom in the art of magick.

 

[Arla]

Arla's gaze came back to settle on the girl who was slipping and falling, thinking about the answer to his question. It wasn't necessarily a simple answer.

That depends, she said. Many times those who fail won't survive the trials themselves, she said. While it wasn't common, it also wasn't uncommon for fatalities to occur throughout the Crucible.

For those who survive, they will be required to perform a great feat to prove themselves for another chance to pass the Crucible. The manner in which they prove themselves and wipe the tarnish from themselves and their Clans varies by Clan. Many do not survive their feat, she said. Sometimes it was hunting an apex predator of the planet, other times free climbing deadly mountains, and the list went on... as diverse as the Clans the women came from, but all deadly.

She watched him set the goblet down, still nervous, but finding herself almost more... curious the longer things went on. Without question it was still a dangerous situation, but if this were some grudge he was here to settle, surely it would have been done by now.

He certainly wouldn't be asking about her grimoire.

I have, she said with a nod. I'm still expanding it. I have many teachings from our magicks, but I've been expanding into Sith magic recently, she said. Even to this day, she was fairly certain her mother's grimoire was still expanding, but the backbone of the the teachings that would carry Arla through her career was already present.

Do you have an interest in the arcane, Lord Raze? she asked. She had heard rumors of him using Dathomirian magick before and he was certainly asking the kinds of questions that would point to more than a passing knowledge of the topics.

 

[Darth Raze]

Her question was not one he found worth answering, so he did not. His gaze remained on the trials for a long time. The girl that was lagging behind fell yet again and was far behind. His visor remained fixed in that direction. After a few seconds, the girl was abruptly launched into the air, clutching at her throat. Through it all, Raze did not lift a finger, the Force pulsing and swirling powerfully. Other combatants paused to look, the girl caught with her mouth hanging open in a silent scream.

“There are those that do not deserve a place in the trials at all,” Tears began to stream down the girl’s face, “Those that serve no purpose other than to fail. However, they can be repurposed to serve as an example to others,” There was a snap as the girl’s neck broke. She was tossed aside like a rag doll, landing with a thud on the ground.

“As a reminder that failure is not an option.”

There was no room for weakness in the Empire anymore. Too many had exploited that luxury. The Dark Lord calmly sat and watched as the hushed whispers subsided and the girls continued the trials. They worked noticeably harder this time and not a single one fell or stumbled.

“I have something for you,” He said as he reached into his armor and drew out what appeared to be a simple pendant. As soon as she took it, she would feel the power that pulsed through it, “I began crafting it 21 years ago,” The Dark Lord said simply, “Use it wisely.”

After that, he stood up and walked away from the table. He didn’t cast a second glance back. It was only when he was out of sight that there was a collective sigh of relief from all that were present. A few Nightsisters ran over to retrieve the body of the dead girl.

As for Arla, she was left with an artifact constructed with magick and alchemy in a very complex manner that would have taken many years of dedicated effort. It would be something Renfry recognized. If utilized, it would allow Arla to channel the Force with strength beyond measure. She would be able to channel Raze himself and unleash his fury to devastate, create or influence to whatever purpose she needed. It was a volatile artifact and could only be leveraged every now and then. Arla would have to do research and first learn what kind of artifact it was. Only then would she learn it could only be passed down through blood.

Only then would she learn that her mother had no part in its creation.

 

[Arla]

It seemed he didn't like that conversation topic. Well... okay then. Her one attempt at asking a question hadn't gone over that well, but it could have been worse.

Then things got worse. Arla put several fingers to her temple as Raze began strangling the girl who was clearly inferior. The girl likely would have died anyone at some stage or in her feat or somewhere else, but this wasn't tradition. It wasn't how it was done.

Of course, Arla didn't stop him because even if she'd wanted to she knew she couldn't have, so instead she took a deep breath in and just watched the life drain out of the girl as her neck snapped.

There wasn't any denying that the others fought even harder, though.

She was still trying to figure out what she was supposed to do about this - or really if anything needed to be done because, frankly, his actions seemed to be effective - but before she came up with anything, he told her he had something for her.

Really, she was expecting it to be a lightsaber shank. She stiffened slightly, eyes a bit wider than she'd intended and when he pulled out a pendant and handed it to her, she reached out and took it. The instant it touched her skin, she could feel the power within it. Not that she knew what it did, but there was no question that it was... beyond anything she had handled before.

Her eyes flashed down to it, her head tilting ever-so-slightly to the side in an inquisitive move that she had clearly inherited from her mother.

She opened her mouth to say something - probably something along the lines of either "thank you" or "why" or maybe "why, thank you" or perhaps "thank you but why" - but he had already gotten up and walked away, not even casting a single glance back.

She looked down at it, confused an marveling, almost failing to contain her curiosity and astonishment as the proceedings continued. Everything else seemed to pale in comparison to this. And the young Nighgsister - First Sister of Dathomir and Sith Champion - once again realized there was so much she still had to learn.

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