Shattered But Unvanquished

[Baska Tankreyd]

* following these events (https://theholo.net/forum/showthread.php?57759-What-s-Past-is-Prologue&p=1065506&viewfull=1#post1065506).

Baska didn't notice the guards and servants of House Alastor, as her steps took her out of the Reef Fortress. She climbed down the staircases, eventually reaching the seaside. She stood, her face to the breeze. Bright misty eyes closed as she found refuge into the emptiness inside her, a void filled with the darkest of thoughts, memories, and appetites. Once upon a time, there had been room for fierce love, fiery passion that would demolish strongholds, leaving a blazing trail in her wake. She had loved deeply, she had lost even more tragically. The anvil that had forged her into a dangerous and powerful Sith remained a painful shore upon which she crashed over and over again.

The sea breeze brought her soul far away from Hapes, all the way to Iego, in a lifetime she barely recognized as her own. She remained blivious to the tears rolling down her cheeks, until they roused the cuts left by the chandelier's shards. With flickers of energy, she had them tear apart from her flesh, dropping into the waves lapping at her boots and the hem of her gown.

She didn't dare open her eyes again, losing herself into the downward spiral bring her deeper into unforgotten and unforgiven history.

Baska remembered strong arms around her, a deep laughter that still made her smile. She had always been a wild one; but Denart could keep up with her, match her fierceness. She trusted him with her life; but had failed to keep her vows to protect him. They were unbeatable together; devious, cunning, and brash as only youth could let one be.

Almost a decade had bound them to each other, their synchronicity one for the tavern legends. Where everyone had thought they could get a piece of her and mold her, he had respected her; as she challenged him over and over again, until they shortly surrendered to what tied them together in scars and sacred pledges.

Denart and her had faced everything together, from instigating the pettiest brawl, to surviving dangerous hunts, making names for themselves in the underworld, building a defiant and scary reputation. How they had laughed in intoxicated pride at their achievements, sleepless nights spent building a future where they would always survive.

Fate found arrogance abhorrent; and Baska had discovered it the hard way.

[Baska Tankreyd]

"I will break you."

"Been there, done that, try harder," she snapped at the Sith Master hovering above her, after he had thrown her to the ground. Her unexpected mentor had been putting her through the wringer since they had first met, when he had fetched her in a corner of the galaxy. It wasn't that she had been shocked to hear she was Force sensitive. She had figured that out when only a child, based on uncanny incidents and stories she had heard. But she failed to understand what he wanted from her at times.

Koron Ageros sneered at the young blonde. "I may have been wrong about you. A shame, really."

She forced herself back to her feet; but tendrils of energy crashed into her, tossing her right back where she as, this time landing on her back. She felt the energy collide next with her abdomen. It hit a nerve and she threw herself in one forceful and painful movement at Ageros, feeling the darkness vibrate through her body.

His fist collided with her head, but she managed to only put one knee to the ground, although she realized too late that her hasty movement had spilled the ring she wore around a chain over her clothes, instead of remaining concealed. Her new Master had made it clear she wasn't to keep sentimental items, which he considered as distraction to what she should relish in, pain and anger, and heart-wrenching sorrow.

He grabbed at the chain, but before he could snatch the jewel, she grabbed at his wrists with all her might, muscles imbued with raw strength. She twisted hard, and propelled herself to her feet.

"Don't you dare touch this. Hands off!"

She snarled, her eyes turning the same hue as the crystal ring, encasing droplets of Denart's blood, a testimony to their forlorn bond. He kept trying to snatch it, turning her into a bundle of dark energy, her anger blinding her but unleashing the monster waiting to come loose from deep within her soul.

She didn't hold back; she didn't back down; she stood her ground with a desperate boldness she had forgotten she possessed. While presenting little challenge to the Sith, he forced her to give everything she had and then more, her body begging for mercy; but her mind refusing to give in until she eventually collapsed after assaulting her Master for the Force knew how long.

"You may keep your trinket," he eventually said, walking away from her after she had collapsed onto the black rock.

[Baska Tankreyd]

House Alastor, even her two powerful guests, were nothing but a dull hum in the realm of her Force-heightened senses. It felt as if the world around her had come to a still, while her memories surrounded her, always in a tighter embrace, seeking to crush her. Yet Baska would only be broken back together again, as she had been countless times since that fated day. She had replayed that moment over and over again in her mind for more than a decade; but even with the power she had acquired, it was still a blur, the only tangible thing being the blinding pain that had knocked her out for literal hours.

One moment, Denart and her were disembarking their freighter, weapons in hand, ready to acquire a shipment, what shouldn't have been more than a verbal argument. The next thing she remembered was waking up on an operation table, bleeding and screaming, before the medical team managed to sedate her. That split waking interlude had given her all the tragic news without needing anyone to tell her. She just knew. Denart had been killed right on the explosion, shielding her and their child she carried. Their daughter had soon joined her father in the eternal beyond.

She recalled the glimpse she had got from her stillborn daughter before she collapsed due to the anesthesia; but she had never forgotten it. At least she had been able to properly bury Heyrina on Iegos, while Denart had been torn to such shreds, there wasn't much left. Baska remembered the violent quarrel she had had with the med center to still retrieve actual pieces of her husband. Putting him to the grave hadn't brought any closure, instead opening up a new and endless chapter of suffering and power beyond her wildest dreams.

The familiar images of both tombs by the sea played before her mind's eyes as her fingers wrapped around the ring dangling from the chain around her neck, a constant reminder of the heavy absence that pushed her heart to beat harder, driving her to live another day, taking revenge on fate itself.

Life had punished her youthful impudence, too naive to realize what awaited her on the other side of tragedy; but Baska was living vengeance, bold until the grave that wouldn't entrap her for years to come.

[Baska Tankreyd]

"Mamma," the little girl exclaimed, running to her mother with fearless trust. The blonde crouched to hold her daughter, keeping her close to her, smiling as the wind blew, blending mother's and child's blonde hair.

Then, she smelt it, the scent of decay.

Her heart sinking; she brought Heyrina at arms' length, but it was already too late, and the decaying corpse turned to dust at her feet. She looked at her blood-covered hands, falling to her knees, as tears cascaded down her face.

This was the same vision, over and over again.

Her Master drew from her dreams, those she wasn't strong enough yet to conceal from him. He played with them, twisting the knife into her soul with relentless deviance. It had been more than three years now that she had been wandering the galaxy, mostly by Ageros's side. There were few days he let her breathe without pushing her to her limits, always attempting to throw her beyond them.

She admired the Sith as much as she had learned to hate him. Her hatred wasn't an all consuming rage; but rather a slow-growing plague that she hoped to unleash one day. They were both aware of her sentiment; and it seemed to make her more brutal, while she became more savage in her resilient parries.

Mokosh, the new identity she had chosen, even when told she hadn't earned to call herself a Darth yet, had lived iterations of what she didn't get to live with either Denart or Heyrina, every single day since she had lost them. She was strong; but her Master's mind games were the favored training ground, besides the barbarism one might rightfully expect from Sith education.

No matter how many times she lost them, it ripped her heart open anew, the darkness seeping deeper into her true identity, empowering her to sustain Ageros's torture.

[Baska Tankreyd]

Lost in her reminiscences, Baska stepped forward, water drenching the skirt of her dress, as her hands fell upon the surface, power crackling at her fingertips. She had lived to the beat of her own drum since she was a child, much to some people's pathetic chagrin. She had burned things and people to the ground oh so willingly; just as she had been set ablaze against her wishes, and eventually willingly, for strength wasn't found in quiet waters.

Living on the edge, that taunting and exhilarating line between control and madness was her lifeline, why she was a creature of shadows, who built her more powerful future from the remnants of her past, of Sith history even, as the hidden collections in her vaults on Iego proved it. She had first thought her desire to unearth memories was simply what Ageros had molded her to be; but she had come to realize that all that had slipped away from her grasp since her childhood also motivated this want to grasp at threads of the past that could make her stronger.

The ever-light that bathed Hapes was still surprising to the hunter who was used to the long albeit star-filled night skies on the place she had kept as a bittersweet lair. She looked up at the bright skies, even as dark clouds enveloped her soul. Blue eyes squinted as she found herself considering how the sequence of darkness-orchestrated events had led her to the Reef Fortress. Staying behind the curtains and in the recesses of obscurity was how she operated; and she didn't see herself change in that regards, but it didn't mean she couldn't carve space in multiple places, should she wish to do as such.

[Heyrina Tankreyd]

Time lapses and collapses threw her off-balance, as she stepped through the ancient hallways, in the confines of the ruins the Force had brought her to. Yesterday felt like childhood and today had her linger on the doorstep of an uncanny adulthood. The blonde felt tendrils of energy reach out to her; but she feared not. They had nothing to do with memories of oppressing darkness that had plagued her early days. The hint of a predatory smile, sharp echo or her maternal lineage, passed on her lips as she closed the distance between her mother and her.

Their reunion had been the works of fate; but had they not answered the call, had their allies not played their parts, they wouldn't be standing together today, ready to take on whatever was thrown upon them, together. They both had personal paths to embark upon, but it meant not they weren't bound regardless. She shouldn't be alive in the first place; neither of them really. But here they stood, returning to where it had all started, to burn down what they wouldn't deem salvageable, for nobody would replace either of them. Unique they were, and together they would prevail.

The Tankreyd line would carry on; by the will of the Force and by the strength of its daughters.

[Baska Tankreyd]

"You overestimate yourself, Mokosh," Argenos spat the words.

The Darth he had molded over the years, stared at him with quiet determination. At he beginning, she hadn't been powerful enough to hide her growing hatred for him, regardless of how much he had changed her, turned a strong hunter into a Sith, whose meaning of strength trampled any consideration mere mortals may possess. Then, she had kept it barely concealed if ever. She knew her master's arrogance, and the way she had learned his mind games, devious ploys to force her to survive but also to hopefully remain under his boot, had made her consciously keep the hatred as the rancor in the room. She had learned to influence the ebbs and flows of the Force, turning his attacks against himself, more than he would ever imagine.

She knew little about his past and what had brought him to be the deadly individual he was; but she had come to understand that her failures and tragedies had prepared her beyond his expectations to become a Sith. And it would be his ending when the time was right. She was waiting for the next time he would take her back to his lair, hidden in the ice caves of Illum. She had only been there a few times; but wouldn't be able to access it without him. Once there she would strike; but the day hadn't come yet. It would though, and she would be ready.

"Not as much as you do, Master," she snarled the words, his blade coming to crash against hers. She pivoted and kicked his knee hard, to the point of hearing a bone crack, but she felt the tremor in the Force indicating it was an illusion the other Sith used against her. Deciphering reality and lies had been a never ending process since he had taken her under his dangerous wing years before.

She almost bought it though, but she didn't waste time chastising herself for that, and indeed leaped over him, lightning bursting from her gloved hands, while she threw rocks at him from behind.

It was going to be a long fight; but she needed all the trials he would put her through. She couldn't afford not to be ready.

[Baska Tankreyd]

Memories came and went, crashing against Baska's psyche without pity. She wouldn't have wanted pity anyway. She wasn't the begging kind. She had never been. Even when her mother disappeared when she was only a child, she made through, already taking care of herself, as her father had been a different man after his wife's disappearance. And when at thirteen she had been kicked out of the house by her own brother, she had learned to live on the streets. She coudl have reached out to other relatives, but back then she had refused help. She would make it through on her own. Even though she deeply cared for her cousin Alienor as they had become adults, the concept of family remained distant and she didn't dare imagine having one again. Power was her goal, magnified self-resilience that could see her achieve whatever she set her mind to.

Visions passed before her mind's eyes, disturbing as always, especially when they had to do with Heyrina. She didn't understand their persistence, for her daughter died before even leaving the womb. The tall blonde pressed a hand over her abdomen, the gown hiding the large scar her beaten body had exhibited since that fated day. It was one of the comforts of keeping to yourself. People wouldn't know your story and some weren't foolish enough to pry. Baska had no issue shutting them out in whatever capacity she saw fit.

The bond she had felt through the Force towards Razielle was an unexpected development. It would be easy to simply dismiss it as a side effect of the battle they had waged. Baska knew that its seeds had been planted back in the arena. The thorns growing, vicious vines, between them, was the work of darkness.

Walking back to the shore side, uncaring about her drenched skirts and boots, the tall blonde didn't know what exactly the future would bring, but she knew for sure it involved the powerful allies she had made. The future seemed oddly Hapan, and she had choices to consider.