Disturbances in the Force - Tavion's Introduction/Monthly Log

[of_dathomir]

Who: Tavion and YOU
What: Tavion makes her violent arrival - and
When: Early March
Where: Various




Arrival on the Shores - Closed

She dies, and is cast adrift in space and time. This is not the oblivion she had feared so much - but is it better? Perhaps it is not the same for all force-sensitives, but to a mind as disordered as hers, the images and places and things and urges scream through her mind, jerking her through different layers of consciousness without any preamble or warning. And in those moments, she fears. More than she had feared death, more than she had ever known she could - and then there is a struggling, upwards push towards light.

And then, and then...she awakes. She gasps, coughing up water immediately afterwards. It tastes wrong, foreign. But everything is wrong. She was dead and now she wasn't and yet again she has been toyed with by power greater than her own and it maddens her. Worse still is the sudden flood of...empathy for others. A strange emotion that moves through her mind like the touch of a skittering spider on skin. Her first conscious thought in this place is that she is being forced to feel for others and she hates it. Her mind, that alone had been hers - nobody had ever reached into it, never forced her to think something, to feel something.

Whatever or whoever created this place, whatever they stand for - they have violated that. So her second conscious feeling is rage; rage and the ever-present call for revenge that comes with it, her oldest and most familiar friend.

Then she feels hands on her naked body, voices cutting through the fog. One, clear as day, she hears: "Shall we see what we can do about that body? I think if you try hard enough, you'll remember something more familiar."

And memory floods back in, and her eyes snap open, and Tavion is whole again. She pushes back from those hands, feeling some kind of viscera fall away - and the tragedy of the moment, really, is the Wakers' reminder of the familiar. Because there is only one familiar response to someone like Tavion. She reaches out her senses, feeling the old familiar breath of the Force, and her hand snaps out. A moment later, from a nearby bag, her lightsaber smacks into her palm. And then with a snap-hiss and a breath of ozone, the red blade comes to life.

The Wakers don't have a chance to scream, let alone run. Moments later, she stands there, tall and fierce and proud as she is herself, blood from the fallen falling away from the violet tattoos that mark her face and body.

The rest is almost a formality. She finds the bag, her usual leathers inside - hide from Dathomir, her last real trace of home. The other objects she'll come to understand in time. But there, wrapped in sackcloth - she finds the Scepter of Ragnos.

"Fools," she whispers, pulling it free and holding it aloft. No, hers now. Not that revenant Ragnos, not a Sith artifact - she has learned. It is hers. There will never again be another master. Never again.

She dresses, adding one of the black robes around her shoulders - waste not, want not, after all. But what to do about the bodies.

That is when she meets her Omen - because, even here, the Force provides: A Dathomirian Rancor. Not fully grown, just a bit above three meters high, teeth and claws sharp - it roars, uncertainly. And perhaps surprisingly, is met with tenderness, with whispered words in the tongue of the Nightsisters; the Force-Witches of Dathomir. In Tavion's era, they are accomplished beast riders, and her mother, long ago, had taught her how.

She reaches out a hand, touching the Rancor's snout as the massive head lowers. The growling ceases, a low sound of greeting, of bond emanates.

"Oh, you poor thing," she says, "to have been drawn here, too. But never fear - we will keep each other...safe." And she gestures, then, to the bodies. "And look, a fresh feast for you. Remember, I will always take care of you."

The clothing of the Wakers, what other materials she can find - they are reshaped into an ersatz saddle. And when she leaves the beach - there is only one massive set of footprints, signs of a struggle - and no trace of the Wakers.

Outside the City - Open

Perhaps you are on the run. Perhaps you are hunting. Either way, a four-legged beast is upon you - it will be a difficult fight indeed. But then, there is crashing from the gloom, and the Rancor bursts into view, hand swinging a heavy branch, knocking the creature aside. It rolls across the ground, claws gripping to pull itself back to its feet.

From its terrible maw comes a roar of rage, confusion, and hunger. And as it goes to leap again, a twirling red blade cuts through the air, neatly slicing its head from its body, cauterizing the wounds instantly as it does so.

"Well, well, well," comes a voice from above the creature. With a graceful somersault, Tavion leaps from the Rancor's back, landing softly in front of you. "What do we have here? Such a busy night, and such terrors hidden in it."

Gaze and the Archaic Archives - Open

Venturing into Trench itself, she leaves the Rancor behind - a bit too much of an impression, to begin with. She's certain there is nothing normally in the wilds that can challenge her Omen. Though she needs to come up with a name, doesn't she? So many pressing things.

The first of which is to find the nearest library. A few simple interrogatives to the locals tells her that much. She strides through Gaze without fear and without making way for anyone - the feathers in her hair, the tattoos on her form, the abbreviated leathers, and the cloak around her shoulders will certainly make a scene.

The strange Sceptre strapped to her back all the more so. And anybody who has seen a lightsaber will absolutely recognize what is on her hip.

And for those who can feel it, the Force swirls around her - a powerful Force Witch has oh so definitely arrived.

The Archaic Archive itself plays with her mind - bigger on the inside, and something wrong about it, too. It's like a constant sort of headache, in the back of your mind - one you can never quite nail down. It irritates her. But it is also a necessary endurance.

She works through books voraciously - she needs to understand this place, its basics and its history - and she's hardly likely to trust answers she's given. In time, she finds a table, and books begin to pile around her. As you approach she finishes making a note on some paper, holding up her hand, and another book floats into it.


General Option - choose your own adventure?

[OOC: Feel free to suggest something else if you'd like to meet her and none of these work!]

Comments

Outside of the City

[opress]

Savage was out hunting, searching for a beast that had been blood crazed. Brute, his Reek Omen, bellowed a challenge, and he had prepared himself to take the beast on. If anything, it would provide a good meal for himself and his elder brother, and he was always keen for a good fight.

Of course, he was drawn up short when a rancor charged on the scene. At first, he thought it might have been one of the gifts that his brother had given away, but there was something very different about this one. For one, it was larger than any of the others that resided in Trench. And second, there was a red lightsaber wielding Force-User attached to the impressive beast.

He growled, his hand twitched the saberstaff at his belt and his golden eyes narrowed. "A Dark-Side wielder... when did you arrive in this place?" Now, now, were the odds evening when it came Sith versus Jedi? That might be of interest to his brother.

[of_dathomir]

"A Reek," she replied instead, ignoring his question for the moment. "One of the most angry herbivores I've ever seen."

She arched an eyebrow at the movement, smiling confidently.

"Oh, do tell me we're going to skip over the whole ridiculous comparisons of strength? They are so tedious and a Nightsister always wins, you know. Even one freshly arrived."

[opress]

His Omen snorted and shook that big head as if to show proof that he was big, mean and ready for a fight if it came down to it. Brute didn't have the reach of a rancor, but at a strong charge and the ability to swell even larger in size with emotion, his Omen still liked the odds.

"A Nightsister," Savage repeated, at first surprised to hear such a name spoken and then suspicion. She didn't bear the pale silvery skin and hair of the Nightsisters that he was familiar with. He snorted and an odd pull of old loyalties nudged at him. "Are you an actual stolen Sister from Dathomir? They don't let their females go easily."

The only one he knew of whas Ventress, and what a sour - but powerful - creature she had been.

[of_dathomir]

The Rancor, for its part, merely flexed its long, powerful digits, growling. Tavion turned her head, speaking to the Rancor in soothing words. Words of Dathomir, words of power and calm. The accent would be different to any he had heard - hers was a generation apart and more impoverished, more practical than their cultish predecessors. But it would be unmistakable.

“Stolen? Yes, in a way. And for you to know of us, well…Zabraks are very, very rare these days, from what I remember.”

[opress]

Savage knew those words, had heard them now and again as he grew when the Nightsisters had come to make their claims in the Selection Trials. Sometimes for inspections, but he would know them like he would know the grunting growls of slang that came from Nightbrother lips. Accent was wrong, but he had always been told that there were more of the witches on further reaches of the planet.

He reached out and set a hand on Brute's shoulder, and the Reek groaned out a reassuring noise in return. He hated his life on Dathomir, but a part of him could never escape the long years of culture engrained from the day he had been born. He pounded a fist to the middle of his chest once. "I am Savage Opress, Nightbrother of Dathomir." That introduction said, he shifted for information. "The Sisters were eradicated, even the Clan Mother, Talzin, but you don't speak in the accent of the Nightsisters I know. Who are you?"

[of_dathomir]

Her memories of it, dim and fragmented though they were...were of hunger, desperation - a stolen child? Oh, no, she had been given, so others could live. And she wondered, sometimes, if she would ever forgive that.

"One clan fell, another rose," she said. "One powerful enough that even the master of the Separatists who destroyed Talzin's era feared their ruler. She, too, fell in time. But I survive. Tavion Axmis, clan long ago lost."

[opress]

So there were others...? The Clone Wars were not the end of the Nightsisters, and he supposed if that were true, the Nightbrothers would be kept in servitude. That meant that she existed long after his death then. "Do you speak of Count Dooku then?" His first Master.

"Do you rule the Nightsisters of your generation?" He spoke that with a touch of wariness.

[of_dathomir]

"Dooku? That pawn? No, I speak of...well, the future - which you may or may not wish to know."

As to the latter, she shook her head.

"What use would that serve? No, I was taken and given a...larger destiny. One of change."

In other words, she is of Dathomir, not necessarily part of the old order.

[opress]

"I'm with the Fanged God in the future, so I will play no part of it." But it did seem like there was another war if a Separatist army had reformed. Maybe another Clone Wars?

Nightsisters always did speak in riddles sometimes, and he didn't even pretend to understand what she was talking about. More, he was experiencing a prickle of conflict that if she brought her agenda here that she might want muscle. That rancor looked muscle enough, but he had to question if he would serve if she attempted to put him in a place of servitude.

"This isn't Dathomir or even our Galaxy. Your destiny likely won't be put into play in the same way here."

Outside the City

[survivalthroughhate]

Maul is preparing to take on the monster and is glad to do so when he suddenly sees the Rancor. Well, that's most interesting, especially since this isn't Crouton, the one he gave his mate Reaper all those months ago. Before he can even begin to figure out what's going on, he sees a red lightsaber slice through the beast.

His entire body tenses when he sees Tavion come into view. So there is another Force-wielder here in the city. That would explain the recent dip in the Force that had happened about the time the new Sleepers showed up. And if that lightsaber is anything to judge by they're likely a Sith. It was proven to him quite some time ago that those from his galaxy can arrive from any time period, so he's uncertain of when or where this Sith might be from. So he approaches cautiously, his hand hovering over his saberstaff.

"I don't believe we have met before. I am Darth Maul. Who are you?" He asks.

[of_dathomir]

Sith. Oh, she'd pretended to it. But she knows what they are now. Lies and liars. Worst of all to themselves. No, their power is to be used - but she'll not be chained by a dead cult and its dead ideas. Not anymore.

"The Darth Maul," she says, sketching a half bow with a giggle. "Well. Wonders abound. Adrift in space and time, it seems. I am known as Tavion."

[survivalthroughhate]

He cocks his head in a manner that speaks more of curiosity than confusion. "It appears my reputation proceeds me." He won't even pretend he's not pleased with that. Maul's always had a notorious reputation and wanted people to know exactly who he is (and fear him) at all times.

He figures she has to be either from his time, at the very earliest, and most likely later on than that if she's remarking about being adrift in time. "Are you a Sith as well?"

[of_dathomir]

She smiles, giggling a little bit.

"Oh, it does. So many stories, so many mysteries. Such...tragedy, really."

She moves at a slow walk, starting to circle him.

"And nothing so prosaic - in fact, the Sith are...well, at least temporarily dead in my time. Victims, once again, of their own limitations." She says the last in a sighing, sing-song sort of voice.

"I will be much more than they ever were," she adds. "And you could be, too."

[survivalthroughhate]

He'd like to argue that his life has not been a tragedy.....but Maul's already seen the end of it. What had he been by that point? Just being a tired, worn-out old man who has nothing left in his life but the desire to die by the hands of his oldest foe. Yes, the word tragedy fit him quite well. Shakespeare could have made a great play about his life if he was alive and in Trench. Still, he scowls at the phrasing.

As she circles him, Maul turns with her. It's something he's often done himself when assessing an opponent, the predator seeing how the prey will react. He's no idea who might be hunting who right now in this scenario.

When she mentions the Sith are dead, he nods. He thinks he knows where that places her in the timeline. "You must be after my time then." Maybe even after Luke's then, given what the young Jedi had told him about his father ending the Emperor for good? Tavion might be the furthest along the timeline of their shared galaxy Maul has ever met.

Her last words make his eyes gleam, though he does note that she seems to be a bit cocky. Maul is always interested in more power. He can't help it, he is still a Sith Lord no matter that he's started to break away from the brainwashing his master put him under for so many years, Sidious' claws still dug deeply into Maul's mind. "How delightfully vague. Do you have proof of that?"

[of_dathomir]

"By some time. Past your erstwhile Master dying. Twice. I've survived the petty bickerings of his heirs, and now? Now it's my turn to rise."

And as for proof, well. The Scepter of Ragnos at her back flew into her hand, planting the end of it in the ground like a flag. An artifact that was ancient, powerful - and with effects no Jedi or Sith had seen in thousands and thousands of years.

"Yes," she said, with a slight giggle. "How else would I be heir to their toys?"

[survivalthroughhate]

"Darth Sidious died.....twice?" He questions the phrasing just to make sure he just heard that right. If it was true, well, that is some news he has not heard before! This also confirms for him that Tavion really is the furthest down the timeline of the galaxy that Maul has encountered before. This makes her of great interest to the Sith Lord, curious as he is about what might happen to the fate of the galaxy at large with his odious master finally put in the grave for good.

He can sense the Dark Side coming off of that staff as she plants it on the ground, the scepter roiling with a large amount of power that Maul hasn't encountered before. He's not sure what can be done with such a weapon, so he'll remain cautious....for now anyway. "I have never seen such a thing before. What is it?"

[of_dathomir]

"Twice," she repeated. "I wouldn't be surprised if the one you knew wasn't even his original body - the ancient Sith knew of ways to maintain life for unnatural lengths - but Sidious...well. Those secrets were lost, so he found another way."

"But as for this," she said, with proprietary pride. "This once belonged to Marka Ragnos, whom you...may have heard of."

She smiled.

"With it, I can imbue beings with the Force...or take it away. The auras left behind by a Jedi temple, the burial mound of a long-dead Sith - all those pieces, drawn into this."

Including the remnants of the planet Byss, the reborn Emperor's citadel - and possibly the strongest source of dark side power in the galaxy, with the exception perhaps of Korriban or Dromund Kaas.

"I made myself an army. Here, I shall make another, once I have found those worthy enough."

Which, in part, means obedient.

"A task you might wish to play a part in?"

Archives

[faithfulson]

It’s not until later in the night that she would be able to feel it; a certain presence brimming with light and hope, and one that was unquestionably familiar, despite how much younger the owner was…

For Luke, well… he had sensed the dark presence within the library as he approached it — it was a bit hard to miss, and definitely of a kind of darkness that he wasn’t familiar with. It… vaguely resembled Maul and Savage, but it definitely wasn’t them. Either way, he didn’t let it bother him — the general consensus between them all so far had been their fight and differences really didn’t carry on from the galaxy to this place, so he did not think it would be an issue.

Surely whomever it was that presence belonged to had gotten the message by now, right…?

Either way, he didn’t allow the presence to bother him as he made his way through the archive. Part of him wasn’t certain exactly what he wanted to find; something to help ease his father’s suffering came to mind, but he wasn’t sure such advice could be found in a book. Part of him also wanted to find more information on this place as well; anything that would enable him to better understand blood corruption and how to keep it from happening, if only to keep “Darth Vader” from showing up again.

It wasn’t long before he found himself almost lost in his wandering curiosity, finding himself absorbed in the different book titles as artifacts he passed by, and not at all paying attention to anyone else that might have been around.

[of_dathomir]

It's familiar, and sickening to her. Like the smell of a corpse. She closed her book with a thud, face set. And moved herself into the shadows.

It was a new ability, that she had discovered while she was here - a chameleon-like ability to hide, to blend. She could move between contiguous shadows, unseen. Of course, such a thing came with fear - of being trapped in one, hunted down. But that was not enough to keep her from using it. Power was, after all, there to be used.

"You," she said, bouncing her voice from here to there with the Force - an elementary trick, frankly, but effective. "The great Jedi Master Skywalker. Or the one that might be, or will be. As if it matters."

She's not aware of that pact. Nobody has brought it up. And even if they did, she wouldn't care at all. He's the second most hated person in her world, an enemy and an obstacle.

[faithfulson]

Luke paused at the sudden voice, glancing around like he was trying to pinpoint it, but otherwise not appearing overly concerned. Appearing, was the keyword there; in reality, his senses were on high alert, ready to grab his weapon and defend himself if the need to do so arose.

“Not a master yet, I’m afraid, though I’m getting the impression you wouldn’t care either way,” Luke responded, not sure where to look as he addressed… whomever it was. “I’m at a loss, though; you seem to know me, it I don’t know you.”

[of_dathomir]

She wishes she had brought the Sceptre with her - she might have caught him unaware, perhaps even drained him of his force-energy; left him helpless. That would have been...sweet.

"One would hope," she said, with a growl, "less sanctimonious, then. But also...less powerful? Let's test that theory, shall we?"

And then she lunged out of the shadows, blood red lightsaber igniting in a moment and swinging hard at his head.

[faithfulson]

She was right in one respect; Luke was weaker in this place, at least in certain aspects of the Force. His telekinetic abilities were functionally useless, seeing how his blood powers were overriding most of his Force abilities. Said blood powers benefitted him in other ways, like in this instance, when he could feel where she was going to be before she even popped up out of the shadows.

He didn’t bother to turn around, pulling his lightsaber and igniting it over his head to block her attack. He glanced back at her after a moment, an almost miffed expression on his face.

“You know, it’s rude to attack people from behind,” he said, like he was commenting on the weather rather than keeping someone at bay that just tried to take his head off. “Also, I think this might be too much noise for a library.”

Since she seemed to know him, hitting her with his dry sarcasm wasn’t a bad thing, right?

[of_dathomir]

If threw up even more rage for her, frankly, which may have been the point. Which angered her all the more.

"Oh, I apologize," she snarled, moving like a snake to strike at him in a series of quick blows, testing his guard. "I'll try to take care of business silently next time. Perhaps a sniper rifle from a kilometer away."

She reaches out with the Force, flinging a series of heavy tomes at him, to try and throw off his balance.

[faithfulson]

He had been training with Maul for a few months at least by this point, and there was a definite improvement in how he handled a fight. Luke could already tell he was relying less on skill and more on instinct, easily meeting her blows with a solid defense. She was so enraged by his mere existence that he knew talking wasn’t going to solve anything. Letting her get out her aggression against him while keeping his own head was the best option he had at the moment.

“I would say that would put you out of the library, but I’m not so sure about this place,” he quipped, before ducking out of the way of the heavy tomes being aimed at him, only one of them grazing his shoulder. “You still haven’t answered me, by the way.”

[of_dathomir]

Which probably makes a significant difference - what he may notice is someone geared to defeat the style he used to practice. In her universe, the Jedi are all trained by Luke Skywalker, or others who had also been Skywalker-trained. Her style had been in large part honed to fight Luke Skywalker - and she had been trained to hate him long before they had come into conflict.

"Call me Tavion," she snarled, practically dancing around him to strike from a flank, swinging a flat blow meant to sever his head from his shoulders.