Forgotten Horizons

[Nadgkema Siron]

Izar-Lokan, Vagar Praxut (http://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Vagar_Praxut).

The Vahla colony had chosen the northern part of the smallest continent of the now mostly deserted planet, when they had decided to build a colony several decades ago. They had everything they could want for in terms of natural resources. While the weather mostly had two seasons, the cultists had adapted well enough. After so long spent living aboard spaceships they had been yearning for a place where to rebuild temple and homes. While the Vahla were nomadic by nature, this small group of descendants from the original worshipers and priests devoted to the dark goddess Vahl (http://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Vahl), had chosen to build a more permanent future for themselves and their children.

While the original group had not been so extensive, the group had avoided inbreeding over the centuries with bringing worthy foreigners into their ranks, as well as finding over natives and their descendants. Family trees were also safely recorded in order to keep the blood as powerful as possible to please their Goddess and withstand the test of time. They didn't look down upon mixed blood for the trials for an outsider to be accepted were significant. Nadgkema's mother had survived them with flying colors, and the fallen Jedi had found a rightful place among the Ember of Vahl, helping them settle on Vagar Praxut.

The Embers of Vahl had strengthened their spiritual practices to greater levels than their ancestors who hadn't known their hardships. The written and spoken word of ritual as well as dances and various gestures ranging from cordial respect to the intimacy between bed mates, had been the core of the embodiment of their faith for centuries. Even now that they were sedentary again, albeit with spaceships always at the ready to evacuate for survival was intrinsinc to their DNA, they kept the faith alive in all the little ways that had sustained them during their nomadic days. Force sensitive by nature, Vahlas, had only ever welcomed Force sensitive foreigners, ensuring that the Force and their dance with darkness to honor their goddess, would carry on from one generation to the other. Most cultists only had limited potential, and were taught appropriately to at least nurture their gift and blend it with their other skills. The fraction of the group who had more potent power were trained harshly and extensively in order to be protectors of their people and priests of Vahl.

At the center of the settlement, the main temple devoted to Vahl stood, its dome shape flanked by three towers, honoring the first three priestesses who had followed Her teachings. From this focal point, the settlement had developed into intricate branch-shaped fashion, housing, trading, smaller temples, schools, and artisans mingling on an everyday basis. There was no formal spaceport for the spaceships remained scattered to allow for the most effective evacuation.

Many of the group had become bounty hunters, mercenaries, protecting their own but also making money to improve their makeshift fleet and the tech they had available. Those still traveled the stars to acquire goods and nurture off world connections. The cultists might prefer not to draw attention to themselves in the galactic landscape but they were not hermits by nature. Their rage and lust for life had sustained them when most of their ancestors had been wiped out from existence. They would thrive and bow to no one but the Great Vahl.

Given how Force users had become targets of choice from various political factions, they avoided revealing their talents to strangers and why they always kept a close eye upon allowed visitors.

Standing in the depth of the underground chambers of the central temple, Priestess Nadgkema Siron (https://i.pinimg.com/originals/e1/5c/e3/e15ce3d48a5407c6c94b437990625691.png) was in deep concentration as she conjured the power that coursed through her veins as she molded raw energy and the various chemicals and substances before her. One of the three High Priestesses had fallen ill and her mind was tethering on the edge of madness. Rituals to reinstate her sanity were planned for the next day, and the purple-eyed alchemist had been working tirelessly to help the woman who had been her mentor's and her father's before that.

The crackling energy eventually faded until she had gathered the transmuted liquid into a sealed flask, now only a somber hum surrounding the room. Taking several deep breaths as she grounded herself anew, Nadgkema realized one of her aides, an apprentice that had showed much promise, was standing on the threshold.

"What is it, Xovar?"

The teenage boy, even though taller than her, bowed with utmost respect.

"Ember-Kel Dargan requests your presence at the East Tower, Priestess."

Nadgkema pursed her lips, but stood silent for a few instants. The novice averted his gaze to the floor once again. She wasn't sure why one of the tribe's leaders would want for her presence at this point while they were preparing for the restoration ritual for High Priestess Eduhara. Knowing him, it must be important for he was a devout man.

"Tell him I will be there in an hour."

Without hesitation, the boy bowed again and scampered off, his footsteps quickly fading in the staircase.

[Mr. Slate]

"Explain to me again why we are lowering ourselves to even speak to these savages? We should route them from this world and be done with it."

"You would do well to not question my command, Mr. Clay. Remember your place. Not every culture beyond our borders has to be our enemy. Hardly. That's a decision for them to make. Anyone can be fashioned into a useful tool. Just look at what I've accomplished with you, hmm?"

"Yes, as you say Arbiter. Still, this place stinks of rot. I can feel it."

"An unholy world with a rotten people to be certain, and yet they do not bear the mark of the beast. They have not succumbed to it's corruption. We would know it if they did. They could still be of use to us. Make the preparations to land. Rouse the Guard."

The sleek starship began to descend from high orbit. It's design was neither the sleek and shiny Nubian design nor the frozen aquatic nature of the Mon Cal. It's design was simple and to the point; all straight lines and sharp edges without a curve in sight was an aggressive look that was apt for a vessel of war. Mr. Clay had once described the telltale Leh'beni design as being "flying knives with wings". The Magetta soared through the sky, cutting through the clouds like a knife as it angled downward toward the earth below. The village in the distance provided the target, and a clearing near it a destination.

No sooner as they set down than the bald headed and elderly Mr. Slate took his men with him and departed. With him came several of his Lawbringers hunting party. Each glad in an elegant suit and coat, their heads matching in their emptiness, and each carrying unique, and in the case of some, quit odd weapons that seemed horrible primitive and out of place. Mr. Clay enthusiastically tested the weight of his pitchfork and Mr. Cask applied pitch to his unlit torch. Mr. Slate, by comparison, looked rather mild with only a cane in hand as he lead the way into the forest and toward the village beyond. From behind them followed the Templar Guard; each clad in emerald and bronze armor, hidden beneath helmets, and carrying long, bulky rifles over their shoulders. They moved like a parade, in a tight formation, no weapons formally drawn. Sheathed or held loosely at their sides.

"Look, they even had a temple erected to their foul gods."

"Another potential chink in their armor, Clay. Do not let their pagan ideals inflame your faith in Solfar. He illuminates the way."

"He illuminates..."

The tree gave way and the village came into view in earnest. With his one good eye Slate could see people moving around, looking out from several towers around the perimeter. He was not worried. Such rabble were an easy matter for even the Templar Guard to dispatch. He did not lead them into the village. That would be too aggressive, even if by right of their divine task would be justified to do so, he instead played the part of the diplomat and stood outside and waited for them to send their own to meet them halfway, or whatever their primitive tradition was. There was no reason to expect manners and civility from dirt people.

[Nadgkema Siron]

The news was the unexpected arrival of visitors and the tribe Elder wished for Nadgkema to come with him to greet them. Ember-Kel Dargan was a wise man but whose faith could blind him at times. By any means, Nadgkema prayed to their goddess but she understood that the power that course through her veins was greater than anything contained in a single vessel, regardless how powerful Vahl was. She had believed that while stories and rituals meant to keep the goddess alive, they had also attempted to sequester her into less than the power she had wielded stood for. In the privacy of her soul, Nadgkema knew the goddess had been a force to reckon with but not above what some breathing individuals could achieve, a feat she had applied herself to accomplish one day. She knew others before her had hinted at such interpretations of the legends and texts that had been passed down from one generation to the other.

That was why she kept a protective eye upon her people, fierce as a lioness with cubs in a way; but also understood self-preservation in what could be considered deviant ways. After all her own mother had rejected constrictive teachings and transcended her upbringing. Patience and perseverance was the way and just as the shadows were the world of her people, she kept her treasures and ambitions concealed in them.

A dark blue cloak placed above her black dress, her booted feet crunched the gravel underneath as she and the Elder left the gates of the settlement, followed by several of their fiercest mercenaries who were currently home. Where some might have expected only peasants, two of them sported high tech prosthetics and nobody wore rugs. They did look hardened through a difficult life, but that was the way of the Vahla, and their various adventures brought credits to sustain the colonists, and none of them had anything against technology. Many of their ships may look on the older side, but they remained reliable.

Nadgkema's expression remained impassible as she stared at the gathering of suit-wearing men. Their business attires and their eclectic weaponry made for a strange group. The priestess didn't trust strangers out of habit, often rightfully so. And it wasn't the norm that such a gathering of foreigners would come here. More often wanderers would meet the Vahla elsewhere or be loners with Force potential feel drawn here. This was a different affair she believed. her senses on high alert.

She stood by the Elder's side, her amethyst eyes upon the leader of the group. There was something about that elderly man she couldn't pinpoint yet.

"Greetings, I am Elder Ember-Kel Dargan, and this is Priestess Nadgkema Siron. What brings you to Izar-Lokan?"

[Mr. Slate]

"Greetings, Elder Dargan." Came his reply as he watched the small parade makes it's way out to meet them. They looked a people sustained on scraps and salvage. Hardly great warriors. He had no doubt that a single squad of the Templar Guard in a elevated firing position could destroy this entire encampment on their own. His eyes scanned the nearby terrain as the thought passed through his mind, taking in possible strategic significance just in case that outcome was what this meeting became. A proper gentleman was always prepared, after all. His eyes came back around to the group, focusing on the woman for a moment with his one good eye before switching back to the man at the head of the procession.

"I am Mr. Slate, Arbiter of the Leh'beni Empire. We hail from several sectors over. Neighbors, if you will." At his back he could feel Mr. Clay bristling underneath his suit. The man had no stomach for formalities. He was a creature of blood and battle. But even a hammer has it's use in a delicate project such as this. It merely needs to wait until the nails are ready. "We have been investigating the neighboring sectors, and the 'Unknown Regions' in general for dangerous renegades; the Lupine."

Pulling his free hand from the pocket of his coat he presented a hologram projector pad, which snapped to life with a press of his thumb to reveal the image of a man that appeared to be a typical humanoid of no discerning features, that is until after several seconds of being viewed it hunched over and it's body violently sprouted fur, fangs and claws until it fell forward to the ground, transformed into a muscular canine thicker than a vornskr, more agile than a boma.

"I am looking for these monsters. Men that turn into wolves. They are very dangerous and capable of great destruction. It is possible that they might be hiding amid your collective."

That was a lie. Slate was more than convinced that there were none here. They were sneaky creatures but he and his people had become incredible hunters of the Lupines, and he had a nose for smelling them out. There was not so much sapient life here to drown out the diseased rot they produced. They had their own stink. Whatever dark god they worshipped was abhorrent in itself, but it was nothing compared to the stink of the beasts. He was more than willing to allow their continued existence, in exchange for cooperation. This beast hunt was just the foot to get them in the door.

And if they proved difficult, well, then they all become nails to be hammered.

[Nadgkema Siron]

Nadgkema had a bad feeling about what was going on; and she knew that it wasn't paranoia. She didn't scare easily at all; and was prepared way better than anyone else in the community. Sure thing, they were ready to just scatter at a moment notice and go find somewhere else to rebuild; but over the years, the Sith had learned to hide what she valued most in hidden lairs, far away from the compound. Knowledge was also deeply ingrained in her ever-working mind, and worse came to worse, she could rebuild anywhere better than others. She had attempted to get the town to improve their defenses too; but they had grown complacent.

Today might be when her warnings would prove true; and while she care for these people, and appreciated what she had got from them, if things went south, self-preservation was her priority.

What the Arbiter explained seemed to fascinate the Elder; and Nadgkema kept her mouth shut. If they thought little of her, the better for her. The more she learned about the situation, the more effective she would be in the face of whatever trouble these visitors were bringing.

Dargan bowed his head. "Welcome, Arbiter. We rarely have visitors and have had no stranger come in our midst for months, only people we've watched grown since they were toddlers. I doubt we have seen any of your Lupines."

Nadgkema watched the holo-recording from where she stood and she found herself now quite curious about these humanoids and what they could do. She had always been fascinated by rarity. And if anyone said of others they were monsters, there was a good chance there was something fascinating about them. After all, she herself could be called as such by a bunch of people in the galaxy.

"This is an independent community, with no external authority," the Elder continued, a slight shake in his voice after witnessing what the Lupines might be, although Nadgkema was still not fully certain it hadn't been fabricated.

"But I guess you may stay with us a couple of days and ask questions around. If such monsters had managed to hide among us, you are welcome to root them out."

While Nadgkema's faith wasn't confined in the way her position expected it to be, she found Dargan's reaction to confirm how she had seen him as a weakling over the past years. She believed in the figure that had become a goddess to many, a woman of exception, but by placing her on a pedestal, people had stopped believing in themselves and how to grow a spine after so many generations.

[Mr. Slate]

Ah, yes. Victory. Some resistance had been expected but instead they folded immediately. Good. While Slate had no qualms with razing this entire settlement to the ground, it would be time wasted that could be better spent continuing the crusade. The galaxy was a very large place, and this mud puddle would be but a footnote in the history of the Leh'ben Empire. And like the rising of the sun, their ascension was inevitable.

With a gesture of his hand Clay and the other hunters dispersed and began moving through the settlement. Leaving only the Templar Guard at his back. Standing tall, long rifles butts resting on the ground in relaxed parade formation.

"It will not take long for my men to root out any of the vile beasts. They have special, keen senses that will sniff them out immediately. However, that does give us a moment to discuss other business..."

With a turn of his head back and forth to looked along the edges of the settlement with his one good eye, pausing and noting weak defensive potions or holes in the perimeter.

"... I can't help but notice you are in a vulnerable position. An otherwise uninhabited world, alone by yourself against the forces of nature and any brigands who happen to discover you here. You could spend the next hundred years and never see another ship pass your skies, or you could spend the next hundred years being endlessly raided by pirates, forcible conscripted by the Empire, or manipulated by dark forces. The galaxy has become a very dangerous, volatile place. Even these Unknown Regions are being increasingly explored and mapped. It will not be long before we are all revealed. But I do bring a solution, and come bearing gifts. A defensive pact between your settlement and the Leh'ben Empire. We offer protection with no interest in directly interfering with your world."

His gaze switched from the Elder to the raven haired woman behind him. He could not put his finger on it but there was something in her stance, in the way she held his gaze, that felt out of place. He did not enjoy that feeling. He felt challenge in those eyes, and these mud people would do better to realize their place and whom was the superior here.