Once, it was the home to the witches of Dathomir, otherwise known as the Nightsisters. Tucked away in from the rest of the galaxy in an isolated cluster, the Nightsisters were able to draw energy from the planet itself, and pursued a type of ritualistic magic. They ruled over the population of Zabarak—Nightbrothers—and used them as a warrior caste to serve their purposes.

Then, the Clone Wars. The Nightsisters were pulled into the conflict due to the machinations of Mother Talzin and her rival Darth Sidious. This ultimately lead to the eradication of the Dathomirians and their settlements. The desolation was claimed by the Confederacy of Independent Systems after the last Nightsister fell.

Now, the planet known as Dathomir is a haunted skeleton of its former greatness. A perpetual crimson glow coats the planet. The bleak world has become an amalgamation of ruined forest, decrepit swamplands, and withered mountains worn to the sands of time.

In the desolate swamps, faint echoes haunt the graves of the long-dead witches, infusing the green fog that spreads above the damp ground. Dreadful whispers rumoured to be lingering incantations defend the world from intruders. Tall tales and rumors of zombies and ritual sacrifice alluding to grisly flashes of imagery.

The trees, large and misshapen, promise misery to those who touch their tortured bark and open themselves to the memories of the place. Eerie as the voices over the wind, the water beneath the fog appears red and bubbling, as if the land itself were pockmarked in cauldrons of blood to keep the incantations alive.

Creatures unaffected by the purge of the Nightsisters still remain. Snakes, reptiles and insects of varying lethality wander the wasteland. Reports have even said that rancors still roam freely.

This is Dathomir.

Prompt

Dathomir.

It was always a remote planet, full of mysticism and dark magics. Rumors, whispers of witches and heresy had always plagued the place. Such tales always included the inevitable ritual sacrifice. The dead rising from the grave. Man-hating fiends who would revel in torrid parties with their sisters. It was hard to determine which stories were true, and which stories you certainly hoped were false.

None of these stories trouble the Tarenti. The Clan of Life and Death, long some of the darkest practitioners of the Brotherhood, had certainly heard worse. Or had done worse themselves.

The Clan Summit of Tarentum has decreed that, under the cover of all possible secrecy and oaths of silence, no one is to know that the Clan of Death and her Grey Jedi sworn to Life are searching for the lost secrets that might otherwise revive the memory of the Nightsisters, and return the vaunted powers of the Tarenti to Yridia.

This is your mission. Bloodfyre has paired you with another member of your Clan. Enter the swamps with your Clanmate. Work together. There are secrets of power to be revealed, and the Summit needs them to gain an edge in the battles that Tarentum faces ahead.

Find the Orb of Daka, a Nightsister relic that may reopen the powers of Necromancy to Tarentum. Make your Clan proud.

Members paired will enter the swamps and be met by guardian beasts, twisted versions of the natural denizens of Dathomir. These nightmarish beasts were warped by the power of the Nightsisters to guard their matriarchy. The beasts will stop at nothing to block your path and rend limbs from bodies in order to protect the secret tombs of the witches. You must succeed at all costs.

The mud of the swamp squished between the toes of the Gungan, the digits of his foot wiggling in the dampness of it. He flexed them and sank them in further, smiling at the sensation. The fallen Odanite sniffed the air, feeling the taint of darkness that lingered within it swarm his lungs. The light had been snuffed from the Gungan, his search for the one known as Samael leaving him broken in failure. Tarentum was where he called home, if only for the moment.

He looked to his right and saw a blue skinned beast of a creature. He returned the Gungan’s gaze and grinned, uneven yellowed teeth flashing themselves at the fallen Jedi. The Tarenti exchanged quick pleasantries, the Gungan never having worked with the Chiss before. They carefully walked further into the swamp, Kah making sure to move as silently as possible and be mindful of his surroundings. Kaz followed, the look in his narrow eyes giving the Gungan an uneasy feeling. What was he thinking? What darkness lay inside his skull?

They traveled for a few minutes, the swamp reminding Kah of his home and people. A quiet melancholy swept over his heart, but he did his best to swallow the bitter taste of it. They walked in silence until they came across two large trees whose trunks seemed to radiate a strange green glow. A fine mist swam just over the ground, a pinkish hue seeming to wrap around it like a pall. Kaz stopped in his advance and scanned the area while his comrade moved further on their path. When the Gungan got between the trees, however, the mist quickly receded to the trunks of the trees and their branches seemed to shake violently. The green glow that came from the trunks seemed to burst in a dazzling display, bits of bark and tree burping out like shrapnel at the fallen Odanite.

The trees twisted and shifted until finally they had broken free from the ground. The trees contorted and formed exoskeletons, two strange ent-like creatures rising to their wooden feet. What the Gungan assumed was their chest had what appeared to be a rib cage, the appearance of small bones and decayed limbs covering what acted as their skin.

“Are those…” started Kaz.

“Dey be dah dead of dose dat protect dis place, metinks.” said Kah, who had retreated to Kaz’s side.

The ent’s moved forward with unnatural speed, their lethargic movements exhibited during their waking moments burned away like morning dew. The Tarenti reacted accordingly, each rolling to the side and finding cover. Kaz took out his blaster pistol and fired off a few shots, the stench of ozone and burning wood spewing into the air with every shot. The beast, however, made no reaction other than to look in Kaz’s direction. The Gungan, meanwhile, ran forward and leaped onto it’s back. The sound of his lightsaber ignited was combined with the sound of the tree beasts thunderous footsteps, the sound of the saber digging into the wooden back of the ent delivering no satisfaction to the Scourge of Lianorm.

The Gungan lost his balance when the Ent swung violently from side to side, the Jedi landing awkwardly at first but still managing to roll out of the way of the other tree beast’s large club like branches that smacked the ground. The vibrations of the impact left a trembling sense of excitement in the Gungan. Death, the thing that lingered in his life but seemed to avoid embracing him, may finally allow the tired Jedi to enter his domain.

It was this sense of foreboding calm that Kaz picked up on; eddies of the Force swimming in and out of both the Dark and Light side with an overarching ache to just pass on from this world. For a moment he considered sending the Gungan on his way seeing as how he wanted it and how he was also within range for Kazarelth’s blaster. This would please his need for killing something with emotions, seeing as how the murderous withdrawal was not good for his psyche. There was of course the minor problem of two sentient trees bathed in the green glow that were out for their blood. One in particular was annoyed at having to deal with a singed rib cage and was coming directly towards him. The Krath was torn.

The ent was lumbering towards him with a screeching cry. Both of the creatures were incessant in this assault to the ears. When one stopped its howling, the other picked up the thread and replied in a different tone. Coupled with a stench that brought to mind a soup of decaying woodland creatures, it was all very bothersome to both Tarenti. Kazarelth eschewed his blaster in favour of his trusty lightsaber, seeing as how Kah was having a better time chopping off several appendages that wanted to give him a hug full of tough love. The Priest ignited his purple blade and extracted several kilos of firewood off the ent. It roared off-key in what Talismarr hoped was agony, and reaching out with the Force was pleased to know that was correct. He was also smug to find that these creatures had a single point of focus from where basic commands such as “smash fist” or “swipe right” were being sent, the same point of focus which was also giving out other streams of communication such as “silly invader” or “guard Dathomir all day erryday”, and just as Kaz took more woody tribute by force, “aaaaaaugh”.

Across the battlefield, Kah’s usage of the lightsaber in face of entities that did not understand the concept of stopping, or retreating, was admirable. The Gungan slashed away at the sentient tree, increasing the shrill howls that seemed to be wake up alarms for the entire planet. He gnashed his teeth and looked up at his idiot comrade skirting around the tree with little to offer on what the damn thing was and how it could be killed.

“It’s an ent as you have rightly observed. I think it has some sort of magick machination in its head - the general area around it, at least. I can feel emotions and controls from that area. Oh and don’t call me an idiot, that’s super rude!” came the reply in his mind from the Chiss. This had the dual effect of Kah categorizing Kaz as an insufferable know-it-all, and also beginning the rudiments of a plan. Before they could finalize, a patronizing tone came into his mind saying “ah, Kah, that… is not a very smart idea. Why don’t you try again, this time with a little more thought?” This had the effect of Kah double up into an irritable rage. Bent on first destroying the fraking tree and then the Chiss with the big telepathic mouth.

The Scourge leapt up at the tree, pirouetting in mid air like he was swimming in Naboo’s seas, and severed one part of the thick reinforced neck of the tree. He landed on the burnt area, ears numbing from the close quarters aural assault. With an impressive cry, he grabbed the leaves that were its hairs and yanked the head free from the rest of the body, landing with a mighty crash as the rest of the tree toppled lifelessly.

“Sissster!” went the cry from the remaining ent, which Kazarelth picked up. The terror and dismay of a second loneliness washed over the machination. Kaz smiled and said “delicious” to nobody in particular and fed his own culinary masterpieces of emotions to the sentient tree. Terrors of spending an eternity in a dark lightless room, the agony of watching her other sisters (whoever they be) tortured and mutilated, the withering of the entire notion of being and identity. All of this mixed with a pinch of catatonia made the machination stop its running and cry out in abject grief. It fell on its knees, crying in pain just as Kah repeated his move with the first tree, and threw the heavy head towards Kaz’s feet. The sudden hush of the place was replaced by tinnitus in both of the Tarenti’s heads. Kah’s rage subsided just as the howling stopped. He also had a nagging feeling that he was thinking calmer thoughts because of his comrade tugging at his arguably stiff emotional strings. Kazarelth busied himself in carving out the wood to access the source of the sentience, discovering an object resembling triangles joined at each angle wedged in the head-space of the ent. Finding the same in the other head some paces away, he gave a little “oh” of surprise before pocketing that one too.

He then had a flash of something huge, and something more menacing coming their way. It was far away, but he had the unshakable feeling of the monster knowing their scent, as it were.

He sent these images to his comrade’s head as a little for-your-information packet. Kah simply said “we gotta be getting eway from-a dis-a place, and dat-a monstah. But der be no otha way getting da Orb. Dat big-a monstah be key” “So you’re saying we walk towards it?” “Der be no otha way. Wen yousa see enemies on your path, yousa be walking-a to da goal.”

The beast rippled with muscles, but none that were naturally its own. Tissue had been flayed and torn from those that opposed the Nightsisters, blood still dripping from the meat that was stolen from corpses. The Gungan looked at the Chiss, who immediately ran for cover and prepped his blaster pistol.

“Go ahead, attack it. That’s what you do.” Said Kaz, making a shooing motion.

Kah clicked angrily, eying the beast before he too darted for cover. It walked like an ape, using its arms as well as its legs to move. The beast was horrendous, both in appearance and stench. The meat was riddled with bacteria that had begun to eat away the creatures body, but it appeared unbothered by the process. The Gungan stared, mouth open as he saw the attention to detail the Sisters put into their creations. He gawked at the fleshy construct that they pieced together to mimic the appearance of genitalia, a strange sack seemingly carrying vestigial organs. They mimicked life through the death of others, a skill Kah had been struggling to emulate.

The beast cocked his head towards the Gungan, and green light glowed in the eye sockets of its skull. It saw Kah, it recognized him. Kah stared back at the beast, then projected his way over the cover he was hiding behind. It was no use hiding, the creature clearly had no interest for Kaz. It wasn’t long until the Chiss also realized that, aiming his blaster and firing it at the flank of the beast. Burnt flesh wafted into the air, the Gungan capitalizing on the brief distraction the shot gave him and dashed forward with his saber, the azure blade entering what passed for the shoulder and continuing down the side of the beast until it came out the other end.

Kah rolled and turned back, looking at his handiwork and feeling a pull of disappointment. The beast was too broad for the blade to go all the way through, and what flesh was cut open had healed almost as quickly as he had cut it. The sound, however, the creature made was beautiful to the Gungan. It resonated with him, a strange sense of pleasure mixing with the pain. It was how the fallen Jedi lived, taking the good with the bad. It was then, when he heard the sound, that he felt that familiar presence inside the beast.

“Tinkin’ cutting dah head off be dah way again?” Shouted Kah, rolling out of the way of the creature. The Chiss implanted the word “yes” into the Gungan’s head, and the Jedi grumbled about his ally doing nothing. The Chiss still lingered in the mind of the Jedi and tugged at the memory of his family dying, the former Odanite snarling at the Tarenti. He looked over as he dodged a swipe from the beast and exchanged a venomous glare with Kaz.

“You were rude again!” Said Kaz, taking another shot at the creature.

The Gungan dropped down to his knee, dodging another strike from the creature. He twisted and slashed with his saber, lopping off the beast’s hand and then head. Decapitation, it seemed, may not be the answer. The head continued to snap its jaws, the hand still trying to grab at the Gungan, and the rest of the body continued to move.

“Yousa can get over here now.” Said Kah loudly, the Chiss agreeing as he scurried over with his violet blade.

The creature thrashed violently, his arms swinging left and right as it tried to hit the two. Kaz ran forward and chopped at the beasts leg but the strike missed when the beast rolled backward, its severed hand reattaching to its arm. The head cooed as the severed flesh came back, the body seeming to react to the sound. Kah clicked in frustration as he gestured with his free hand towards the head.

“Deal widd dat, mesa takin’ da beast.” Said Kah.

Kaz turned and sprinted over to the head, driving his saber into it over and over. The thing, however, still snapped at the Chiss. Things that killed living things did not kill the dead, the realization of that made the Krath feel silly. He looked at Kah, staring as the Gungan cut off limb after limb and somehow the beast was able to dodge or duck just right to get them back.

“It’s hard to move when you have no legs...or arms...or torso.” Said Kaz, coming to the Gungan’s aid and chopping off part of an arm.

The Tarenti and the Gungan created a wall of strikes, their sabers entering different areas of flesh as the rapidly struck at the obstacle that was the beast. Plasma entered flesh, the scorched meat seemingly consumed by the rest of the dark side fueled pieces. An arm would fall off, and one of the two would handle the creature while the other went to cut up the limb as best as possible and disperse it. The beast seemed to panic when it realized what they were doing, but it still tried to get to the limbs before them. It only prevented them twice, but they were persistent.

An arm fell off, and the presence inside the beast howled. It wasn’t the beast this time, but something more. It wasn’t pain that the Tarenti and Gungan were hearing, but annoyance. They weren’t dead yet, and it pissed off whoever was on the other side of the creature. Another arm fell off, and the rage that emanated from the beast seemed to warm the environment. A leg severed, and finally the other.

When it came time for the torso, Kah deactivated his saber and withdrew his dagger. He stabbed repeatedly at the flesh, Kaz watching as the blood of the creature’s meat sprayed over the Gungan. When it was all over, when the feeling of the blade entering flesh no longer satisfied Kah, the two dispersed what was left and departed the scene.

“Deesa orb bettuh be worth it.” Said Kah.

“I imagine it will be for someone.” Said Kaz.

The two continued on their path, seeing the entrance to the tombs of the witches that housed their prize just on the horizon.

Having said what he had to say Kah trudged forward, trying to dowse out the path to the Orb. He was never interested in sniffing out the Force, preferring to hack and slash his way through any situation. His comrade, on the other hand lived for this sort of trail. Except the planet was so rich in the remnants of the Force and Witch-magick, that it was nigh impossible to trail one sort of scent and feeling. Yet Kaz could feel the tendrils of his goal trying to find its way through all this overgrowth.

Kazarelth was bemused. It had been quite a ride with these strange tree-like things that were beating the ever living Krath out of the two Tarenti, but they had escaped with less than the usual mix of bloody arms and bloodier hands. But it was not anything that he wanted to repeat anytime soon. Killing trees, funnily enough, did not do anything to the Priest. He sensed that it did little to the Gungan either who did not once get to use his beloved daggers. But the lush vegetation and the dim red starlight mixed together with whatever death and destruction that had wrecked the planet’s ex-inhabitants, and produced a concoction of emotions, power centres and flashbacks, It fed the Krath’s innate hunger for the Force’s machinations. He giggled, playing with the feelings of harrowing torture and destruction that several of the vicinity’s strongest spirits had to endure. He seemed to feed off the place’s nightmare ambiance; every susurration of the leaves magnified to tell him bits and pieces of history, every step crunching through a ballad of Dathomir. Even Kah’s gulping down of the water canteen seemed to hint at his dark past.

The fallen Odanite took a sidelong glance at the Krath behind him. He was acting like he was tripping on a hallucinogen. ”Krath damn this…” he muttered, and was immediately hit upon by a wave of traumatic emotions. It transported him back to his childhood in Naboo, of his orphanage, of the adventures that he had with his friends and how they had all popped out of existence much like how his whole life had magic and happiness siphoned out leading up to the point now. He blinked and felt the colour drain from the redness of the forest, replaced with a cold green-grey that felt like it was the colour of poison and death. He heard his comrade shriek a moment later. More sensitive than most to the wayward dance of the Force, Kazarelth was clutching his head, in a fetal position on the floor. He moaned softly. Kah felt it too, the dampening effect it had on his person. It felt as though the Gungan was trudging through sludge.

Steeling his mind, the Gungan peered through the depths of the forest with the aid of the Force. He extinguished the anguish from his mind with a deep breath and saw the monster that Kaz had felt the most basic aspects of a few moments ago.

“Yousa need getting up,” said Kah, “wesa need-a moving.”

He received another long groan and more forest-floor waddling in response from the Chiss. Kah blanched.

Before he could try again, he heard the cry and another wave of the dampening wave from what could now be discerned as the Force being channeled by something feral. Not from something that was wild to begin with, but was definitely wild now. He heard trees crash in front of him, and he ignited his ‘saber and waited. He had seen a silhouette of it coming towards him, but seeing the monster step out into the clearing was quite a feeling. Through the green-grey light, the thing roared. It was thrice as tall as Kah stood, with a gaping maw that puckered like an rectum and the skin around which was in various stages of decay. It resembled a rancor - if that rancor had been made on Nar Shaddaa by a profit-minded merchant with very low resources. It reeked of something sour and bilous.

Kah lunged. There was no question on what else could be done. His comrade was having a bad trip, the creature smelled like even an acid bath would not clear out the smell from Kah’s skin, and evidently it had been alerted by the demonic trees. He cleared the misshapen arms - one of which was proper rancor size, while the other was more suited to picking the rancor’s nose with some difficulty. The low budget rancor-thing started to roar, and even Kah He sliced the back of the creature, stopping its voice in mid-roar. Kah felt as though he could breath again when he stopped the creature from drowning the area in its terrible screech. It turned and snapped at the Gungan who, surprised by the speed, jumped off its back. Again the beast prepared a roar and again Kah jumped at the creature, this time slicing at its throat and another time slicing at its back. It seemed to do very little harm to the creature except irritating it enough to lunge, jump and circle Kah.

Kah, though, was preparing for a battle of attrition. Eventually, he thought, it would stop twisting and turning and make a mistake. Eventually he would figure it out. He always did.

Except on his next lunge, the creature ducked, using its teeny-tiny arm to swat the Gungan away harmlessly. The fallen Odanite fell again, literally. His lightsaber rolled away from him, blade turned off. He turned around to see the beast look him in the eye and prepare what was definitely a Death Star-scale Force scream. But for the first time since the start of the battle, Kah could actually see things clearly, the colours were returning to his eyes and he could feel the Force in a more fluid manner. He wrote that off as the exhiliration before the moment of death. He reached out to the rancorlet with his mind, trying to thank it for a brutal final battle.

The rancor never managed to finish its end of the conversation. Instead of a shriek of Force, a thunderous sound emanated from behind the rancor as lightning wrapped it in a warm embrace. Kazarelth was awake, and was channelling all of the bad trip into a terrible weave of lightning. Kah saw the rancor freeze up and felt the Force wriggle away from the life of the beast. He recalled the feeling of dread and sorrow and anger and grief that the rancor brought with it and channelled it out through his hands into a mightier purple lightning fan, enveloping the beast in a vivid embrace. He continued long after his younger comrade stopped. And when he stopped his eventual torment, the beast took a final step and imploded. The stench of cooked innards and roasted scales, and the physical exertion demanded by the lightning proved too much for Kaz.

He threw up. And then he passed out.

When Kaz came to, he saw the Gungan tearing up a bit of the beast’s tail, sniffing it and then eating it with what could be described as relish (but the Chiss was unwilling to accept that description).

“I’m glad I don’t have anything else left within me to retch.” Kaz said, over the sounds of the slurping and biting.

“Yousa need all de strength for da road ahead. Mesa tinking you should-a try-a dis out.”

“No thanks,” said the Krath as he felt the tendrils of the goal again, this time pulling at him harder.