Izar-Lokan, 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, 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 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.