Dathomir: Fall From Grace

[Matier]

It had happened many years ago; long before the Battle of Endor, prior to the formation of that which is now. Back then, the basis of our clan was slightly more savage than a rabid pack of hounds and the initiation was so imbrued with gore that the stains never quite left our hands. On that night, like in any other harrowing account, the largest moon had been full and the fog had seemed more like smoke. Thick, moist smog that outsiders could no more breathe in than they could navigate through it. The light from the lunar entities above scattered through the vaporous billows, blinding the eyes even more. There was an aberrant heat emanating from every direction and the faint hiss of sinister voices seemed to whisper the names of those who dared venture forward.

I’d like to believe that other Dathomiri would not be so foolish as to wander where they are not welcome, but there are those, I know, that would lead anyone to the very pits of damnation for the right amount of riches; The courageous, those who thought themselves strong, adventurers that taunted the bloodthirsty nature of our ‘source’. The reputable definition they gave themselves was soon replaced by purpose; Food for our mounts, blood for our rituals, and bones for our armor. Indeed, once kin had turned cattle and it seemed everyday they would march forth to exact righteousness upon us. They would march to their slaughter.

So precious was the provider of payment this round, to us especially. There were many clanswomen guarding her expedition and they liked to think that they were moving with such stealth. Such fools, I tell you. I was surprised they could not smell the blood on us or sense the obvious hostility that seemed to radiate from our eyes that pierced through the fog. The robed woman, with her practiced stance that just about drove me into frenzy there, seemed wary. Her breathing was shallow and quite rapid, I could feel her heart thundering as if it were my own. Despite the purity she gave off, I could almost taste her fear. She was a beacon of light that had stepped into a clouded realm of pernicious evil.

The hissing voices grew into heated conversation.

---------

“She’s the one… she’s the one, Matier!” The woman at her side all but foamed over the prospect, digging her filthy nails into Matier’s arm as she attempted to maintain her control. The Dathomiri guardians and their charge had paused for a few moments and she had taken that opportunity to have her own sisters circle the unfortunate assemblage. Five sentinels. Easy prey.

“We should take them now, dalninil.” Another whispered to her on the other side of the group. Their impatience annoyed her slightly and she knew that at any moment one of her sisters would strike out on their own.

“We will move with Udossta Ilhar…” She breathed, knowing that everything would crash headlong through chaos now. They didn’t bother remaining quiet as their serrated weapons were drawn. Screams, half tortured, half filled with twisted pleasure, bounced around the surging mist.

Matier was the last one to strike and she had to tear her way through a curtain of blood that had splashed up before her. Something that had been coiled at her side detached itself and the snarling cacophony of its activation made even the dying travelers pause to observe. The swirling, red vortex of Vyk’zlade sliced through the opposition with an avid sibilation. Cauterized limbs flew from the lifeless trunks they had belonged to and landed against the gory foliage at her feet with a sickening clout.

The Jedi Knight drew in a ragged breath that was swiftly cut off as Matier’s gauntleted hand enclosed around her rapidly shivering throat. The muscle of the Nightsister’s arm jerked as she lifted the creature of light off of the ground but brought her closer to herself. She was only dimly aware that the screaming had stopped.

“You’ll serve a purpose, girl. One way or another…”

But I knew then that she wasn’t the one we were looking for. Perhaps, I knew the moment we had set out for the girl that this whole thing was a terrible mistake. The one we were looking for... it was a man.

[Jeseth Cloak]

From the moment I set foot on Dathomir, I felt a sickening pain in my stomach. There was nothing comforting or serene about the planet. Faint cries of death and misery almost immediately began to echo trough my mind. The Jedi Council had asked us to go to that forsaken place and discover what had become of Riola, a Jedi Knight who's visit had preceded ours by nearly one week. "Be mindful, the Dark Side of the Force is everywhere here," my old master had said then, almost as if he had sensed what was creeping into my mind.

"I will," I said to him, dismissing the sound of faint whispers from my thoughts. I had decided that after three days of unyielding investigation, that it might be better if we each went our separate ways and increased our chances of finding any leads. Liam (my old master), ever the practical-minded Jedi that he was, hadn't liked the idea at all. He only went along with it because he knew that we were quickly running out of time. Sometimes, it seemed as if it slipped his mind that I was no longer his apprentice.



23 Years Before the Battle of Yavin...



Jeseth found himself wandering along the outskirts of a thick wall cloud of fog. In his left hand he held a dim lantern, barely lighting up the darkness. That's when he saw her. Limbs torn, gut ripped open, legs snapped back. There were bloody stains all along the ground, and deep gashes that etched their way deep into her bones. He turned away, fighting the urge to throw up as the smell of rotting flesh reached his nose. The ground around her was covered in small runes and strange carvings, most of them caked in blood.

The whispers began calling him again, beckoning him into the mist.

[Matier]

The young woman had been quite unmanageable and the power we had been anticipating turned out to be so insufficient that even I found it difficult to accredit her a purpose. During the trying days of the anything but pleasant interrogation, we were able to discern what she had been sent for; artifacts that specifically belonged to Aurilia had been taken off world, she was seeking out the undeniably strong source of turbulence that seemed to be generated by the area itself. Orders given by something arduous called the ‘Jedi Council”.

More were to come then? The threat of something more powerful only thrilled me.

When the woman’s uses had begun to dwindle, her position as a reluctant informant was renounced and her fate was decided mutually by the coven of sisters that Udossta Ilhar had called together. The menace of these scrupulous, principled warriors of light while thrilling was indeed something that needed to be dealt with in the harshest of manners. The corporal form that served as a vessel for her gift was devastated and the empyreal composition of her spirit was augmented into the Mist to empower us all.

At the far edge of our obscure settlement, we posted the ravaged carcass of the maiden. Stripped of the luminance that had haloed her in life, I knew it would be difficult for the others to find her. But if the man who traversed through my dreams indeed was the messiah I deemed him to be, it would not be the girl that lured him onward.

Uk zhine wund udossa….

It was my reliant belief that, while the haze of our home was thick, he would no doubt find me.

[Jeseth Cloak]

Uk zhine wund udossa…

Jeseth heard those words rasped through the white haze, and his lantern began to flicker wildly, threatening to burn out. His thoughts turned to the Jedi Knight's corpse. If the woman had endured any of that torment in life, then he could only be thankful that she eventually found relief in death. His lantern blinked off abruptly, leaving him in total darkness. The mist pressed against his flesh, driving the heat from his bones.

He no longer had any idea of where he was going. Both of his large, white, feathery wings wrapped themselves around his body. The only thing left to do, was to follow the whispers deeper into the mist - those voices that grew more and more appealing to him with every passing moment. Soon, he began to make our the vague shapes of small cottages, orange light flickering through their windows.

What is this place, Jeseth asked himself, peering through the fog. Something felt very wrong.

[Matier]

For the sisters who had been forced from their homes into exile, the fog adorned city of Aurilia was the perfect haven. They had happened upon the village after it had been abandoned by the settlers who had built it. The eerie disappearance of the original Dathomiri, who had called the area home, added to the ghostly flare that suited the clan just fine. Small homes, that formed a circle around the town’s center, served as shelter but surprisingly, the furniture and belongings they thought might have been left behind had been taken. For now, they slept on heaps of furs and curled around fire pits dug into the floor of each house. They spent most of their time outdoors which was evident from the highly decorated boundaries. Drums, weapon racks, bowls made of metal and clay, drying herbs and meats, and wax candles were spread across the well worn paths. Massive flames were always made to crawl up from their ash-strewn chasms, casting an orange glow across the entirety of the settlement and the smoke from those flames imprinted a scorched scent on every item in sight.

For those who ever managed to pierce through the mist, Aurilia might have indeed been a welcoming sight. However, it was only a reposeful mask that held back the true horror of the twisted creatures who now took up residence there. It served as refuge for many unsavory characters; cannibalistic murderers, manic killers whose flesh had been riddled with blackened veins that looked like tribal tattoos upon inspection. Indeed, the Force had taken a most noticeable toll upon them all. At times, Matier felt that the insanity might swallow them whole and when that time came, she would no longer have the control to deny it.

Her desire for control, however, was vastly overruled by her appetite for power.

“Matier, a man wanders through the mist. Uk uriu yorn… ” Came the rasping voice of one of her sisters who nervously clung to the flap of material hung where a door might once have been. The clan mother turned then, drawing the black fur cloak about her scantly garbed body. The silken pelt shifted against the metal and grey cloth fixture cupping her chest and accenting the tattooed curve of each hip and her saffron yellow eyes locked upon the woman’s shivering frame. With painfully slow displacement, she lifted her hand and stroked it broadly through the unruly but soft length of her tenebrous tresses, carefully avoiding the ribbon-worked braid that was tucked to one side.

L’nesst uriu doer…

Departing from the home she had claimed for herself, she passed through the center of the village and mindfully noted that her brisk wandering was hastily gathering the attention of those who had been sitting in anticipation of this moment. They trailed at several paces behind her, having felt the power of this man themselves, and their gait never faltered even as the mist swallowed her form.

“You stray far from safety, d’anthe…” She told the fog, knowing her words would reach him no matter the separation. She knew she was close to him, however. The air seemed to quiver and at that time, the subsisting haze parted for their confrontation.

[Jeseth Cloak]

Jeseth's wings tucked themselves tightly against his back as he gazed at the woman... The curves of her body and the authority in her tone distracted him, but only for the briefest of moments. "I am always safe, for the Force is my ally," he told her, dettaching both of his lightsabers from of his belt and taking them into his hands. His crimson eyes scanned the gathering. There were many of them, but not too many. "I am a Jedi, and in the name of the Galactic Republic, I am placing you under arrest."

Snap-hiss!

Snap-hiss!

Both his lightsabers ignited in a flash of pale, blue light, vanquishing the darkness. "Resist... and I will do what I must."

[Matier]

"Dos zhal yaith whol dosst hawressae!" Came the angry snarl of the sister afixed to the spot at Matier's side. The Clan Mother did tense, taking in the blue blades of the man's sabers and basking in the rage of her clan mate. It was not just this woman, no, everyone situated around the outsider seemed ready to strike after his words that had been executed with such flawless conviction.

"Phinda, your lack of self restraint shames us all." Matier growled to the woman who had begun to slowly but firmly stride toward the Jedi. She knew even as she spoke to the wrathful, warrior maiden that she was a lost cause. But the battle that threatened to spill across the lingering mist did pique her interest.

"As for you, d'anthe, I'd mind her weapon. It has a nasty bite." She warned him with a nefarious snap of her teeth, gesturing toward the item in which she spoke of. Before the proper assessment could be made, the massive spiked ball harnessed by a reinforced chain shot out and collided with right blue brand he wielded. The force of the blow knocked him back several feet. Stalwart and enchanted as the weapon was, she was certain it would keep him on his toes.

[Jeseth Cloak]

Jeseth dug his heels into the moist dirt, tearing into the ground in order to regain his foot. The fact that the woman's weapon had managed to repel his lightsaber was unsettling. His eyes caught hold of the spiked metal ball that the witch twirled about purposefully. It came towards him a second time. Blue trails of light cut through the air defiantly in a hum, as both of Jeseth's lightsabers moved to meet it.

There was a bright spark, and then a vicious crack, and then the witch's eyes went wide in shock. The Jedi had used both of his lightsabers to deflected the deadly projectile and trap the chain. Within moments, the metal links that she held on to were beginning to glow... and then melt. She was forced to release the weapon.

Jeseth leaped forward, a few of his feathers coming loose in the wind, and cleaved the attackers head clean off. When he hit the ground, he went into a crouch, bringing both lightsabers up defensively and turning his gaze upon the rest of the fiends. Then his heart stopped.

Matier (the one who seemed to hold some power over the others) was standing right behind him. He felt her breasts press against his wings, and swallowed in his throat. The smell of her was intoxicating... and her hot breath on his neck caused his hair and feathers to stand on end. If he moved, she would kill him... about that, there was no doubt.

[Matier]

Hands, like silk panels equipped with salient nails, roved over his shoulders in a threatening caress. The scent of death had already begun to taint the air but the burdening mass of it told the Jedi that it exuded from the mist rather than the fresh corpse laying a few feet away. At one’s funeral, it was courteous to speak kindly of the dearly departed. This man had done her a favor, ridding the clan of Phina’s endless rebelliousness, annihilating the only obstacle in her path towards total, undisputed power. Matier’s ability to be gracious had been squandered at her birth.

The dense fog had begun to enfold them once again, whorls of the vapor taking on the form of jagged limbs stretching toward their location. Her hands, which had started a painfully slow trek down his rigid arms, cut into his flesh harshly. The vice grip seemed more ethereal than anything, especially when the blue beams of his weapons obediently crawled back into the primary crystals.

“You think you are so devout, so noble…” She breathed into his ear, her teeth grazing the frigid cartilage. Her presence, the unearthly signature of her being, seemed to expand outward and then tear into his own. There was pain, which rapidly heightened into agony, and a profound hunger inflicted. The affliction was a tormenting nexus that would steadily tear away at his virtues, leaving him primal and reverent. It would take time, though, to break this one.

“Your principles are present to afford you some means of control, but it is only an illusion. Why deny it? You can feel the roaring of truth within your soul, the divine force is echoing off the eroding walls within you…” Her voice steadily became more husky as she drove that spiraling desire through both of their beings. One hand, having trailed away from his arm, stroked his chest. Then, the caresses stopped and Matier stood.

“Just give in.”

[Jeseth Cloak]

His arms burned wildly. She had torn deep into his flesh... and he had just stood there, doing nothing to stop her. It wasn't because he couldn't stop her, either - it was because he didn't want to stop her. With every word she whispered in his ear, he felt something inside of him break away. She was bewitching him...

"Who are you...?" Jeseth asked, his voice quivering. His hands dropped hold of his two lightsabers, and they both fell to the ground in front of him. His heart was beating its way out from within his chest. "I... hate you," he managed to get his, his teeth clenched to fight back the raw need and desire that filled him. He wanted her breath against his neck, her hands against his chest, her body against his body... and he wanted to kill her. He wanted to lock his hands around her neck and squeeze until every last breath of life was wrung out of her lips. "I need you..."

He was failing; his feelings were too powerful. He bowed his head, tears streaming from crimson eyes and flowing down his pale cheeks. They were tears of joy, and anger. No matter how much he drove himself to break away, he only felt himself fall deeper in lust with her. "Please..." he managed to get out, sinking firmly to his knees, his fingers digging into the soft soil. She was going to kill him - they were all going to kill him.

[Matier]

"Who are you...?"

The question could be answered in so many words but what, exactly, was the response he was looking for? She circled around to the front of him and knelt down again, caressing away the tears on his face with gentle fingertips. Her own downfall had been very similar, but there was something missing.

"Matier Ziiv'arel of Aurilia." She murmured softly to him, her tone soothing. Frighteningly so. The other sisters observed their encounter silently, pondering the strange manner in which she handled the man.

"I... hate you."

A twisted smile, that caused even her clanswomen to shudder, spread across her provoking features. He would never realize how much those words pleased her.

"I need you..."

"You don't know the meaning of the word need yet, my dear. But you will." She told him, her spicy breath fanning across his handsome face. She leaned closer, dragging her nails gently down his throat.

"You're going to want it so bad.. you'll beg for it.."

[Jeseth Cloak]

Jeseth's eyes narrowed in anger, his lips drawing back over his glistening, sharp teeth. He wanted nothing more than to bite the smug look right off of her face... and to kiss her, and feel her lips against his. "I'll... never join you!" His words came out laced with aggression. The Jedi knew that his suffering had only just begun.

Slowly, as if powered by some primitive crank, his right hand edged out to grasp one of the fallen lightsabers. He had to try.

[Matier]

So hostile...

"I can feel your control slipping away, d'anthe.." She informed him with a pleased chuckle, dragging a hand back through her inky tresses. Rising in front of him, she turned her amber eyes upon his questing hand and took in its general path. Her brows knit downward, as if she were confused by his action. It had been so long since someone had resisted this much.

"Ah, ah, ah..."

Her own movement was swift, sharp compared to his cautious edging. The heel of her booted foot came crashing down against his wrist, driving his fingers deep into the ground.

Snap.

How she adored those breaking sounds! She barely gave him time to swallow the pain before the back of her hand collided with his face, knocking him to the murky ground. A peel of laughter flew from her lips as she strolled away.

"Have at him, sisters. Let him learn first hand the sovereign instruction of suffering."

[Jeseth Cloak]

The Jedi cried out as he felt a bone break in his wrist. His right hand couldn't close anymore... much less pick up a lightsaber. Slowly, he began to get up to his feet. His other lightsaber - and his other hand - could still be made to serve him. He had only to overcome Matier's sorcery.

Jeseth closed his eyes, attempting to escape into a state of meditation. It was his hope that in the short time he had left, he might yet hope to become one with the Force - but it was impossible... He saw her every time he closed his eyes, and then he could think of nothing more, and nothing less, than her.

The first blow he took came clear across his face. Jagged nails cut into his flesh and sent blood streaming down his neck and chest, staining his Jedi robe. Then they began to rip at that, too. Within minutes, he was lost in a see of hands, all of them clawing and beating at him. Pain bathed him, penetrated him, and then began to bubble inside of him. No, the Jedi realized, they have no power over me!

The women that surrounded him were blown back by an unseen burst of power and sent tumbling in all directions. Jeseth remained crouched, drenched in his own blood, breathing heavily. He knew he couldn't bring himself to kill Matier - or perhaps even to defy her will - but she had asked nothing of him yet. One of his lightsabers pulled up from the ground and into his good hand.

[Matier]

The screams of agony torn from his lips only served as fuel for their savagery. Matier, in a physical sense, calmly observed the spectacle. Her canines drove into her plush lower lip and her arms were folded loosely across her ample chest, the metal bangles clasped about her wrists rubbing against the intricately designed breast plate she wore. Blood splattered, like crimson paint on a filthy canvas, across the ground. Such a lovely design. Pain looked so delicious on him.

Then, shock. She abandoned her physical sustainment, forfeiting the expression that would have explained her feelings. A shockwave, laced with indescribable torment, assailed her mind and cast aside the barbaric attack applied by her sisters. The women slammed back in all directions and while the attack was brutal, they had long since learned to feed off such violence. Matier, in all her haughty ambience, remained steadfast against the wrathful barrage.

"You'll obey me, Jeseth..." She said, her words dripping with venom. His name had been a snarled breath on the lips of the mist. Her hand idly caressed Vyk'zlade's hilt, the silent threat of her capabilities lingering on the howling wind.

[Jeseth Cloak]

The lightsaber dropped from his hand.

Crack!

One his ribs snapped loudly as the witches bore down on him again, striking at him with their filthy hands and gnarled staffs. His attack had only managed to further incite them. He clutched his side, and took a blow to his back. The impact sent him stumbling forward into the dirt. Small bits of wood and leaves dug into his palms. "There is no emotion..." he whispered, "there is peace."

The incantation was in vain; there was emotion, and it was no insignificant amount. Whatever power Matier now held over him, stirred levels of passion he had never known. He felt a need to live, kill... and die for her. As the beating went on, he began to focus on nothing but this new love. It was the only thing that seemed to lessen the agony. He pulled himself across the ground, enduring a gauntlet of unrelenting attacks. He managed to drag himself just before Matier's feet, and then wrap his arms around them, before passing into the darkness.

[Matier]

The incantation he had spouted amused her somewhat, especially when the meager words failed him so readily in her all-consuming presence. The mist recoiled and then shuddered, harsh otherwordly sounds rupturing the sudden silence. His consciousness began to deteriorate and, as the moon did the water on distant shores, brought forth a frothing wave abundent with the Dark Side itself. The women who had laid into his flesh with their nails and armaments stalked after him like rabid predators seeking to finish the kill, but she would not allow it. Not yet.

"Nindel's z'lonzic..." She told them all in a voice so cold, her breath seemed tinged with ice. They faltered in their approach, but she knew that bloodlust had gotten the better of them.

"This one's mine..."

Vyk'zlade, removed from her worn utility belt, hissed to life and scorched the trembling earth just beside Jeseth's body. Perhaps the heat would usher forth dreams of endless fire, flames that ravaged the righteous. The whorling lightwhip warded away her sisters, for they knew her skill. They feared her.

Fear. Fear was the conspirator that dragged the holy down from their thrones and torched their beliefs, it kept the malevolent in control, and brought disaster upon the weak.

I am fear...

------

The room was spacious and dim, the only light afforded by pillar-like, black candles strewn on varying levels around them. Ebony and crimson threaded tapestries covered every inch of the stone walls and the potent scent of a hypnotic spice wafted by occasionally.

The unconscious Jedi, now void of shirt and garbed only in simple black cloth pants, had been placed upon a sinfully high mount of pillows. His head, cushioned by Matier's plush lap, was stroked fondly as the wounds inflicted upon his chest were carefully anointed.

"That's enough..." She hissed to the women who had been helping, lashing out a hand to gesture toward the exit. A cool breeze swept in as they scurried out.

Gazing down upon his broken form, she stroked his wrist and admired the wet blood still upon it. Lifting the limb before her face, she trailed her tongue across his flesh, tempted by the whispering evil to sink her teeth into the wound. She had more control than that, though.

[Jeseth Cloak]

Jeseth's eyes began to open slowly, the heat of Matier's tongue rousing him from his coma. He had felt her her in his dreams; though at the time, he thought he had passed in the thereafter. "Thank you," he whispered wearily, examining his body briefly; she had taken the time to clean and mend his wounds. Oils and herbs were working to numb his pain.

Why am I here, he asked himself, catching the scent of spice in the air, and why does it matter?

He watched Matier for a while, not saying a word, and enjoyed the sensation of her lips against his skin. His feather wings twitched beneath him, and agonizing pain shot up his back. He let out a groan, resisting the urge the tense any of his muscles; if he did that, the pain would only intensify. In the wake of it all, he could only wonder why he was alive at all. He remembered his beating - or at least the pain of it - but he couldn't remember anything before it. He didn't even know what he had done to deserve his punishment in the first place.

His heart felt broken as his body, and his mind was riddled with questions. "I'm Jeseth Cloak," he remembered, "and I belong to you. That's true, isn't it?" The corner of his lips pulled into a slightly frown.

Why don't I remember anything else? There's more to me than that!

[Matier]

"Thank you..."

At his words, her hands locked around his flesh firmly and held him in place. There was an anything but comfortable silence hanging in the air afterward, but the howling awareness of possession was vivid enough that it nearly made their ears ring. Her breathing grew ragged for a moment, as if she was trying to sustain her very existence from flickering out, and then with a daunting suddenness, it stopped completely.

She pushed him up into a seated position abruptly and basked in the pain-filled yowl that tore free from his lips, shattering that wretched silence. Her hands, at that point, had also begun moving again. Sly fingers, tipped with pointed nails, snaked around his battered frame, roughly stroking his chest and shoulders. They even dipped into the open wounds she had chosen to be left uncovered, painting bloody designs across every inch of his body which was completely under her control.

Because she was sitting behind him now and the view was quite unavoidable, her eyes were forced to wander the white feathered limbs protruding from his back. Those digits briefly strayed from his skin to delicately wander the ivory appendages, admiring how they shifted beneath the contact and she came to lean closer and closer towards them.

Eventually, her warm breath was dancing across the expanse of his toned back and her mouth hovered centimeters from the solid origin on the wings. Her hands cupped his shoulders, holding him in place, and with a feral growl she sank her serrated teeth into the thick muscle. Blood gushed up into her mouth and leaked down in a torrent at each side of her plush lips, little sounds of sadistic pleasure escaping her. They were about drowned out by his own growls brimmed with agony, but she could hardly bring herself to mind.

Dragging her mouth from his wings and sliding her tongue up the length of his spine, she pressed her lips to his ear.

"You belong to me, Jeseth. That is all you need to know."

[Jeseth Cloak]

His chest pounded up and down quickly, sweat glistening on his skin. He could feel the blood dripping down his back, but it meant nothing next the heat of her whisper in his ear. "You're right," he said. "You're so right." Slowly, he forced himself to turn, settling on top of her. His eyes licked across her body, full of lust and pain. He was insignificant in her presence.

Both of his hands shook as they gripped her wrists and forced her down onto the bed. Although one of his wrists was broken, he bore down her with all his strength, growling. His lips were parted, revealing his sharp teeth. He wanted to rape her - to tear the clothes from her body and sink his teeth into her flesh. He wanted to taste her blood and taste...

What am I doing, he yelled at himself, both pupils dilating as his heart cut ahead of his mind. His hands wouldn't stop moving, feeling and grabbing her - he couldn't stop himself at all!

"What's happening to me," he asked, glaring down at her angrily. His hold on her wrists tightened, sending a stabbing pain up his forearms.

[Matier]

"What's happening to me..?"

"You're giving in..." She told him, arching her slender body up from the pillows he had shoved her back against. The ragged silk caressed the revealed flesh painted over her curved spine and the hard plane of his chest was teased by the sumptuous bosom tucked within the mesh top she wore.

Her fingers flexed and her wrists jerked upward. She watched the pain dance across his features, knowing all too well that it was mingled with pleasure. He caught on quickly. She continued to press against him, wrapping her long and soft legs about his waist. Then, with an animalistic growl that was quiet and feminine, she captured his bottom lip within her teeth and stroked her tongue across the slick flesh.

You're giving into me...

She whispered into his mind, reinforcing the concept by weaving her seductive demands through his unraveling consciousness. She'd take her time breaking into him, suffocating the last of his morals with the all encompassing shroud of darkness that was her being.

-----

Many days came to pass before she emerged from the throes of bliss and madness. Slinking out of the ravaged bed of pillows, she took the time to gaze down at her new pet. She'd finally let him sleep, not that he deserved it.

Brushing a hand back through her black hair, she slipped into the black attire offered by one of the women who had been summoned in. When he awoke, a new lesson would begin. It was time to teach him something new and a few things came to mind already.

Slaughter, sorrow, devotion...

[Jeseth Cloak]

Jeseth held a lifeless lightsaber in his hand. It was his lightsaber, and he knew that... but where he had found it, he couldn't remember. It felt natural to him to wield it, and his thumb rested over the activation switch. He recalled his first day - or days - with Matier. He could remember all of it vividly: the pain, the ecstasy, the blood and passion. There was no way to tell how long she had kept him there, bound to her through suffering, unable to do anything but beg for more.

Snap-hiss!

Jeseth's lightsaber flashed to vividly to life, humming as he moved it through the air to get a feel for its balance. It was perfect... as if it had been crafted just for him. "What would you have me do, Mistress?" Jeseth asked, his glazed over ruby eyes turning expectantly to Matier. Whatever she'd set him out to do, he knew that he would not enjoy it. Such was precedence that had been set since the first day of his training outside of the bedroom; he longed to go back there.

[Matier]

Orior l'fuer'yonii whol l'Thalackz'hind!

Came the deep cry of one of the Rancor Rider captains who was situated atop her mount already. The entire village seemed to preparing for something; gathering weapons and supplies, even pausing to recite impassioned prayers to the mist. Within a few minutes, the dense fog had snuffed out the fires scattered about them and cloaked the warriors who had taken up battle formation.

"We move to raid the clan beyond the forest. The witches of the Misty Falls hold land that would prove beneficial to us and their immediate extermination has been commanded by Udossta Ilhar. No one is to be left alive, Jeseth." She explained to him, turning her gold eyes upon the approaching, young, convoy holding Matier's battle helm.

Rhoa teeth protruded from the scale helm and matched well with the venom emitting Gaping Spider fangs, still coated with poison, afixed to the gauntlets strapped to her hands. Serrated panels were aligned to the shins of her thigh high boots and a massive spike distended from the leather at the knee. Black netting was layered onto her thighs, stomach, and the upper parts of her arms and other fragments of scale armor were attached to her chest, shoulders, and spine. Each assembled with more teeth and spikes.

The other women in her clan were adorned in a similar fashion, though not as elaborate on account of their assigned duties.

"You'll attack the eastern side of the village with me." She informed him coolly, settling the helm atop her head. The others would assault the clan from the rear and meet her at the center. It was no secret to them that the path Matier had chosen for Jeseth and herself would take them right through the domicile. The homes where innocent children would be sleeping.

[Jeseth Cloak]

Jeseth’s lightsaber hissed as it slipped back into its hilt. “As you wish.” he whispered to Matier in a defeated tone, watching as others among the Nightsisters - some the very women who had beaten him - latched onto heavy chains that were snaking violently about the ground. A massive roar ripped through the fog. The witches, all wrangling with the heavy iron links, worked together to pull Matier’s Rancor into plain sight. It was a horrifying monster... pierced, armored, scarred and tattooed.

When Matier climbed atop her beast, Jeseth flexed his wings and beat them loudly. Pain once again began to course through him. The wounds had yet to heal. Both of his white feathery appendages were spattered with blood stains and dirt. His robe looked no better. With a quick jolt, the Jedi leapt up and tucked his wings away, grabbing onto the back of Matier’s mount with his good hand and straddling it.

As the group rode into battle, Jeseth tightened his arms around Matier’s waist. Her armor pressed against his skin with every thundering step her Rancor took, threatening to draw blood. Strangely enough, it was a pain he welcomed. His eyes scanned the woods, watching at the others that rode with them trampled across logs and branches, and snapping them under the feet of their Rancors. There were no men among them. “Why am I the only male with you tonight?” he asked Matier, speaking directly into her ear.

[Matier]

Matier lofted a brow and turned her yellow gaze back upon Jeseth, her lips sealed into a thoughtful line. Apparently, he hadn't taken the hint with how the other females of the clan had treated him, but he hadn't been here very long. It was no matter, he'd learn the place of males in their carefully crafted society soon enough.

"Their presence is utterly unnecessary when the call for war has been made. The men stay behind in the village to mind the young ones. You are a different case, however. Suffice to say, I longed for your presence at my side."

She turned back to the front, her gauntleted hand running affectionately across the Rancor's scaley hide. The monster of a creature quieted at her touch and even it's footsteps seemed to become lighter. The Nightsisters and the exclusive male member of their savage party became distinctly aware of virulent aura snuffing out the blessed barriers established by the women of the Misty Falls clan.

The mist ushered forth their movements and stimulated the thrumming senses of the dutiful sentinels stationed at the Fall's boundaries. The black clad assassins swept around her Rancor's mass like pitch strands of corporal wind and split apart the life force sustaining the guardians with their enchanted blades. Death screams were strangled off by the petulant claws of their cloak and the blood spilling forth was consumed by the dense fog.

Let the righteous know that the force, undivided and seething, has conducted their slaughter.

"Do not fail me, Jeseth..." She whispered fiercely, halting her obedient mount with a biting thought.

[Jeseth Cloak]

When the fighting broke out, Jeseth snapped out of his fantasy. He had been daydreaming ever since Matier had expressed her need for him. It's not just me. he had thought to himself, smiling secretly.

As soon as blood began to spill, Jeseth joined the fray. His blue saber hissed to life as he leapt out from atop Matier's Rancor, descending to the ground with breakneck speed. The guards never stood a chance; unleashed upon the Nightsister's enemies, he was death on the wind.

Blue trails of light burned brightly as vicious humming heralded the culling of souls. The violence was brutal, but swift. "It's done." Jeseth said as the last of the defenders fell at his hands. He gave one final glance at Matier, then vanished silently into the night, the rustle of his robe breaking the silence.

When he came into the village, he found no opposition. His lightsabers hummed steadily, trapped within his grip. His senses told him that there was no battle to be had. Why had Matier sent him here? His eyes narrowed in contemplation.

[Matier]

The night was quite pitch but her sight was guided by the azure streaks and crimson splatters conducted like a masterpiece by her obedient companion. Matier's gold gaze became transfixed upon Jeseth, taking in the resplendent ruination that began to pile up around him; limbs, fallen weapons, anything that got in his way. The cruelest of smiles twisted her lips upward, which only seemed to ripen when the crunching sound of her Rancor's massive jaws closing around someone's torso reached her ears. Matier released a sigh into the death stained air and then gracefully began to dismount.

The Rancor bent, offering it's tattooed arm to her questing leg. Pausing, as if a massacre wasn't spilling on around her, she stroked the monster's blood drenched cheek before slipping down to the ground. There was a distinctive snapping sound as her boots sank deep into the mountain of bodies. Matier only wrinkled her nose and moved on. Inferior warriors not even worth her time.

"You're not finished, yet." She told him, coming to stand at his side. One of her hands shot out and grasped his arm while the other gestured toward one of the houses. There, in the entranceway, stood a child of no more than eight.

"If we allow them to live, Jeseth, they will only grow and offer us the same resistence their parents do now. Kill them all."

[Jeseth Cloak]

For a long while, Jeseth only stood and watched the child. His eyes turned to Matier, then back to the child. Inside, a conflict raged. Something was fighting to come to the surface - something that Jeseth could only faintly feel. No! it cried out in his mind.

The Human child, drawn by the glow of Jeseth's lightsabers, began to slowly wander out towards the woods. Jeseth gave Matier one final look before closing his eyes and leaping towards the youngling. A loud hum and the smell of burned flesh filled the air, then a few branches snapped as the fallen Jedi landed gracefully behind the boy. Matier watched as the child's head roll of of his neck and fell to the ground; the body quickly followed with a thud.

Jeseth opened his eyes, looking ahead to where the other children now slept. Matier wished their lives to end... and so he would end them. With a fox's silence, he slipped quickly into the building, slicing and stabbing at every bed. He kept his eyes straight ahead, not wanting to see the consequences of his actions. As he snuffed one child, another would awaken briefly, only to meet with his destruction.

When it was over, Jeseth turned and walked back down the path that was set by a row of beds on both sides. Blood had already started to pool along the floor, and he couldn't avoid stepping in it and leaving a bloody trail behind himself. When he stepped outside, he gave Matier a long hard stare. "Pleased?" he asked, not bothering to wait for her answer. He walked towards the next open building, only to find that the children were already lining up outside of the door.

The humming and flashing of his lightsabers in the adjacent building had peaked their curiosity. How he wished they had remained asleep in their beds...

[Matier]

I won't be pleased until every last Daughter of Allya has succumbed to the darkness. Their resolve shall crumble beneath the chaos I unleash. They will die or serve the Dark Side in complete, unending adherence.

Matier's eyes narrowed into tiny, malevolent slits and she took in the steadily growing swarm of children drawn from safety by the thirsty hum and vibrant hue of Jeseth's saber. How tragic total extermination could be! How sadistic in that she felt no remorse at all!

She lifted her hand and a commanding wind gusted over her companion's shoulders, halting him on his route toward the younglings. Matier took a step forward and the earth was set atremble. Her ruthless gaze roved over the state of the village, the quaking bodies of the children, the husky breath escaping Jeseth's lips to stir the fog. Nothing escaped her eyes. Especially not the pillars maintaining the stone awnings draped over the childrens' fragile bodies.

An immense force, much like a swirling vortex composed of tempest winds and abhorrence, crashed forward. It pressed into Jeseth, jagged nails of hatred ripping into each atomic fragment of his being, and then tore its way out. The opaque gale slammed into the carved rock, shattered the large, supportive pillars sustaining the structure of the home. The sound of stone smashing down upon flesh was disturbing, yes, but Matier still wore her smile.

"Their sanctuary shall serve as their tomb. Jeseth, I desire the Clan Mother."

[Jeseth Cloak]

Blood, flesh and bone; these things were no match for the flurry of Jeseth's lightsabers. Even though he wielded them on base instinct alone - having only the faintest recollection of when and where he had learned his skills - none of the Dathomiri that came between him and the High Priestess of Misty Falls stood for very long. The wild movements of his body reopened many of his healing wounds, blood drenching his bandages and robe. There was no pain; only Matier's will could wound him. There was no death; there was only... the Force.

Those words! What did they mean? Jeseth growled in frustration as he struck down the last of the defenders. War was everywhere: fires raged, smoke billowed, Rancors roared and ripped into each other as their masters fell into the nether. Matier and Jeseth had left a trail of corpses behind them. Eight more women came to form a line before the fallen Jedi.

[Matier]

On the crest of the hill before them, the Clan Mother of the Misty Falls stood. She wore an expression fraught with trepidity, sorrow and loosely clutched a leather bound volume to her chest. The once pristine, white robes adorning her full figure had been splashed with the blood of her kin and black ash was smeared across her cheekbones, making them seem gaunt. She was a woman who was coming to realize that the trembling front of eight was the last obstacle standing in her opponents' way.

Still, she acted bravely by calling out to Matier. Her voice wavered in a most cowardly way.

"Wicked creature, turn back to the darkness!"

Such courageous, foolish words. Matier propped an armored hand upon her hip and shot the woman an incredulous, withering stare.

"Such an order is completely unnecessary, Clan Mother. For you see..." She paused, her eyes wandering away from the woman to briefly rake the forest floor. The rent asunder forms of the Dathomir Witches began to writhe in a most unnatural fashion. Limbs that had been torn from their bodies trembled as the copious amounts of blood sealed within them began to leak not upon the ground but up into the hazy air. Dark billows of smoke seeped into the long strands of red essence, the crimson liquid seeming to take on a hardened consistency. They were shaped quite flawlessly. Like knives.

"I bring the darkness with me..." She forced out with a wry chuckle that matured into laughter so maniacal even the ravenous mist recoiled. Just as it did so, the alchemically forged sanguine daggers collided forth and pierced the torpid skin making up the last line of defense. One even ventured so far as to stab deeply into the Clan Mother's shoulder, lodging itself there most stubbornly.

"Surrender the book and your life, then I'll be on my way..."

[Jeseth Cloak]

Jeseth watched on with his vacant, red eyes, as Matier ravaged the bodies of the fallen Dathomiri, and did away with the Clan Mother's final line of defense. The Force was trembling around her, as if her presence pained it deeply. It thrilled him feel it. He deactivated his lightsabers and clipped them back to his belt.

He caught a glimpse of the book that Matier had spoken of; when the last of the bloody projectiles found it's mark, the Clan Mother flinched. Jeseth's hand came up and gave a powerful yank, tearing it from the woman's hands. Her nails raked along the surface of it, some of them snapping and breaking along the way. When it finally found its way into Jeseth's hand, blood was covering the surface. He gripped the volume tightly, feeling... something different: peace. The Book of Law, it's weathered cover read.

His mind suddenly began to clear, and as he turned to glance at Matier, he could see her in a different light; she was his enemy. There was no doubt that she hadn't anticipated the books affect on Jeseth, were he to have come in contact with it. The layers of sorcery she had worked to bind him in were slowly coming undone. "What have I done?" the fallen Jedi asked aloud, growing weak with realization.

His grip suddenly faltered, and the book fell from his hand. His eyebrows angeled downward in anger. He remembered... some fragment of who he was - of who had been. With a kick, he sent the tome tumbling before Matier's feet. That part of him was gone now. "I can't touch it..." he hissed.

"No!" the Clan Mother yelled, crying in desperation as she gazed at Jeseth. "I know what you are! I can feel it! Help me!" She lifted her one good arm towards Matier, pointing a bloody finger. "Corrupter! Venom speaker! I could feel his nature! What have you done? He'll ruin us all!"

[Matier]

Matier's golden gaze shifted between the tome and her companion, taking in the violent changes that began to befall his expression. She could feel the power that she had over him quiver as he held the righteous book in his hands. Her own grimace twisted into something terrifying, something hellbent.

"You're so disappointing...!" She hissed at him, sweeping forward and snatching up the book he had discarded. Her armored finger tips bit into the leather cover and her damning eyes swiveled around to lock upon Jeseth's face. The fury he invoked shot through his veins like liquid fire, both wet and blazing. All of this occured while the Clan Mother sought to denounce her. The pain she inflicted upon him muted the heresy and quickened the sorcery hindering the flow of the dwindling light left within him.

Her body turned and her shoulders folded inward, the anger now completely dissipated from her visage. There was a profound loneliness dwelling there now, accompanied by sorrow. One hand gently glided across his chest, her other limb clutching the book to her chest.

Do you mean to betray me... like everyone else, Jeseth? I thought you were to be the one. But if I must search for another...

Her touch faltered and she slowly began to draw back him.

[Jeseth Cloak]

"No!" he snapped, his expression becoming one of desperate anger. He had never meant to cause her disappointment - but the feelings that had stirred within him at having held the Book of Law were reason enough for her to feel it. His hands curled into tight fists, his sharp, untrimmed nails digging into his palms and drawing out blood.

He turned his gaze to the Clan Mother. Her lips moved, but her words fell silent. But if I must search for another... was the only thing Jeseth could hear, over and over. His eyes narrowed and his hands came up, taking the Clan Mother of of her feet and lifting her into the air, as if she were suspended by invisibles strings. He would never let Matier enjoy the loyalty, love or touch of another. The Clan Mother began to gasp as her trachea shattered, and blood began filling her lungs. Her feet kicked in the air helplessly, several feet above the ground.

Jeseth's hands sparked and whistled with arcs of blue light. "Bow before your Queen!" he demanded of the Clan Mother, rippling blue tendrils crossing the distance between her and Jeseth's hands. The current flowed through her, tearing at her nerves. Her body flashed, revealing her bones to the night in a series of fantastic flashes and sparks.

Matier could see the color draining from Jeseth's already pale flesh. He dropped his hands and the Clan Mother fell to her knees, her face impacting against the ground. Her nose broke in a crunch. Blood ran from the corners of her mouth as she coughed and fought for air. At this point, death was a more humane end for her. The smoke trailing from her body cleared to reveal that her flesh was severely burned.

[Matier]

Her plush lips, rubbed red and raw from the violent lust that enfolded them both, quirked into a conceited smile as she watched on. While the perfume of scorched flesh was pungent and the trill of death-screams was deafening, Matier found the overall experience quite enjoyable. She clutched the Book of Law tighter to her chest, like a child might a cherished toy, and edged a bit closer to her companion.

Matier's body jerked in rapture as the Clan Mother's body clunked sickeningly against the forest floor and her smile only broadened. It was comforting and quite pleasing, this barbaric display of loyalty and power. However, she knew that those wretched morals linger just below the surface and she had very little time to snuff them out completely.

"You're so good to me..." She crooned to Jeseth in a most affectionate way, her free hand trailing across the flesh of his arms. She could still feel the electricity, spawned by wrath, thrumming through his skin.

[Jeseth Cloak]

He had never felt that rush before: the sensation of the Force coursing freely through his body, entwining with the essence of his life, and turning it into raw power. He had only been able to do it because of her. "I could be nothing less." he said to Matier, kissing her deeply before turning his attention back to the woman on the floor. "She's going to die. Nothing can stop that now... is it your will that she continue to suffer, my love?"

His booted foot came up off the ground and pressed against the Clan Mother's shoulder, rolling her onto her back so that the blood could drain into her lungs more quickly. "She's praising your name. Can you hear her?" Only the wet gurgling of the woman's breath could be heard. "She wishes to suffer, as a final act of fealty." His boot pressed down against the woman's chest, causing a small fountain of blood to pour out of her mouth.

[Matier]

I could be nothing less...

Matier leered down at the dying woman, her lengthy fingers curving around Jeseth's arm as he moved forward. She took in his words, pleased beyond normality with how cruel each phrase sounded, and stroked the worn cover of the book she held lovingly. Within its pages were centuries of secrets that had been kept from her people; spells, alchemy, and techniques all influenced by the Dark Side. Taboo concoctions harnessed but frowned upon by the other clans.

All mine...

The sudden streak of selfishness ripped through them both and she released his arm. In her thoughts, encompassing the power enfolded within her dark embrace, she had lost interest in the dying individual. She was almost disgusted by the blood that had begun to crawl toward their feet.

Burying her face in his arm, she sighed.

"Her voice is too soft, my love. I desire the raptured screams of entire nations. But, for today, I have gained everything I need. Leave her and let us return to the village."

[Jeseth Cloak]

And to the village they returned. Jeseth received no hero's reception, though. Most of the Nightsisters regarded him with a level of disgust that was beyond his ability to fathom. Almost as soon as the Rancors were shackled into their pens, he too found himself manacled and chained. He glanced at Matier's back as a small group of young Dathomiri females rushed out to peel away the layers of her armor. There was so much blood on her flesh...

"Matier..." he called to her as his eyes trailed down the small of her back. Was she intending to simply leave him there, soaked in blood, bound at Aurilia's heart? The young women took hold of his lightsabers and brought them before Matier. The fallen Jedi watched them angrily. He had expected Matier to take him into her bed tonight and mend his wounds... but now it seemed he would be left out in the cold, with only the rain and mist to keep him company. "I could break these chains..." he growled quietly.

[Matier]

"Are you angry with me, Jeseth...?" She asked as the last piece of bloodied armor was stripped away from her form. Extending a gloved hand, she accepted the lightsabers that had been removed from his person and weighed them idly in her palm. Her expression was unusually thoughtful for one who often tried to hide her current state of mind behind a demonic simper. He could read into that however he wanted though.

"You will not break them." She told him, her words slicing away at an attempted answer. A yellow gaze, most fierce in its execution, wandered the weary visage and sought out the solution to her question by means of physical signs rather than through petty sentences formed to suit her wishes.

Rolling one of the lightsabers into her other palm, her eyes drifted away from him.

"...is that in anyway... unclear...?"