A read-only archive of discourse.darkjedibrotherhood.com as of Sunday May 01, 2022.

[Invite Only] What Lies Down the Rabbit Hole?


This is an invite only RO for members of Naga Sadow. Get in contact with Anima or Inarya for details.

< Location Redacted >
Orian System

“You know, I intended to come alone.”

Inarya craned her neck to the side, her lekku twitching slightly as she did. Her crimson flesh stood out in stark contrast to the black tattoos that marred her natural tint, making her stand out in the darkness of the shuttle’s passenger compartment. The Aedile’s unintended companion, on the other hand, seemed lost the shadows of his robes. Spots of overly pale skin reflected the starlight in patches glaring out from between the folds of his hood and dark, brown hair. He was turned towards the viewport, tapping against the pane with a taloned finger of his metal arm. Anima let the silence be his answer, though he knew the Twi’lek hadn’t truly asked expecting an answer.

“Fair enough,” Inarya muttered before turning her gaze towards her own viewport, thinking back to her intended purpose here.

It had been rather quick, all in all. The encounter with the Red Fury had brought its share of surprises, including the return of one of the more disturbed Sons of Sadow, Macron. It was this that concerned the Aedile of Shar Dakhan: the welcoming gift to him from her own House that she sought to investigate. No sooner had she made the preparations to follow the shipment — a transport full of detainees from the sunken temple — than the Rollmaster made his sudden appearance. He hadn’t taken her clearly pronounced “no” for an answer, though he always could have pulled rank regardless. He seemed overly anxious to find the same answers that she sought, and that in itself worried her.

Anima didn’t care about much of anything, that was common enough knowledge. Yet, here he was, travelling into the heart of Macron’s madness and machinations. At least, what must have been so at one point, as this was the first Inarya had heard of such a facility.

I’m coming home. Anima’s thoughts were deafening within the confines of his mind, a thousand voices seeking for his attention all at once. How long had it been? How many years? Certainly not as many as he had spent in confinement. Poked and prodded and turned into something not of his own design. Not for the first time, as he found out before the old him disappeared. Atra Ventus had been an experiment since long before his birth, and Anima had no intention of continuing the trend. Is my life not my own?

Freedom. How overrated was that? It was such a simple seeming thing, enjoyed by so many in such little ways. The ability to exercise free will, to make your own choices and live with the consequences. Was such a thing too much to ask? At one time, it had been. Anima’s organic hand drifted absentmindedly from his shoulder downward, crossing across his chest to the other side. He hadn’t given it any thought, but had traced the savage scar that marked him as broken regardless. It was not his only scar, not even close as the tapestry across his neck and face attested… but it was the first.

“My Lords,” the Pilot’s distorted voice spoke over the intercom, “we’re on final approach now.”

Anima’s mismatched gaze, lost behind the shroud of his bangs, narrowed in a rare show of raw emotion.

I’m coming home.


”Roger,” Inarya called to the polit over the intercom. She turned to her companion. Anima’s eyes fixed to the destination ahead of him. Burning holes into it . Not moving. Frozen on the stop. Statuesque. His metallic hand reached up to his chest tracing a line across it as if something lay underneath the fabric of his shirt. “Are you still with us?” She waved her hand in front of his face in an effort to break his intense stare out of the window. Anima jumped slightly. The sudden movement breaking his chain of thought.

“Yes,” His voice sounded distant like he was half somewhere else.

“Always the conversationalist” The female sighed. Rolling her amber eyes.

The Twi’lek could tell that there was something wrong with the Umbaran. She didn’t need to use her force powers to see that. There was something about that place that had changed him. Inarya had noticed it as soon as he discussed, if you could call tell her him was coming a discussion, coming with her. That place and he had a pasted, however she knew better than to pray. People’s pasts were that, their pasts. As long as whatever it was wasn’t going to get in the way of getting her answers she needed it wasn’t going to let it bother her.

Inarya hated this part. The shuttled bumped and bounced on the ground before coming to a halt, she breathed a sigh of relief. The metallic doors of the shuttle opened. Hot, moist air flooded the compartment. The jungle that laid before them had held the compound secret for many years, at least to those who weren’t privy to top secret information.

“What should we expect to find in there?” Inarya asked wiping her forehead with back of her hand. Her other hand resting on her hip. The large building loomed in the distance. An ominous omen.


Anima stood for a moment taking in the building, letting the memories of so many years churn within his mind. It would be a kind of suicide to let them take him over now, to sink into that never ending pit of despair, let its icy waters steal the life from him. It would be so easy… Yet, it was because it was easy that made it the wrong choice. Nothing worthwhile was anything but a seemingly impossible feat. Prying his eyes off the building, he turned his head towards Inarya.

“Nightmares,” came Anima’s calm reply, deftly glazing over the turmoil just below the surface of his mind.

“You know, I think I liked it better when you just weren’t talking,” Inarya muttered before turning back towards the shuttle. “Stay here and keep the engines running.”

“Roger that, sir.”

The Twi’lek nodded and turned back towards Anima, who was now wearing the faintest of half-grins. “What?” she demanded.

“Nothing, sir,” Anima managed while holding some semblance of a straight face.

“I’ll have you know that is aptly gender neutral,” Inarya replied indignantly.


Anima had barely finished speaking before he was on the move, his long strides making short work of the distance between where they had landed and Macron’s old lab. As he recalled, it had more or less been disguised as a prison during his time there, but his memory had been wrong before. The facility had clearly fallen into such a state of disrepair that it was obvious even from the outside. “I recommend you don’t trust anything you see or hear within these walls,” he muttered with a sense of dread as they crossed the threshold, “Then again, even that may get you killed.”

“Well, that’s useful,” Inarya’s reply more or less dripped with sarcasm. What kind of statement was that? Don’t trust anything, but you might die even still? What kind of nonsense had occurred within these walls, and what exactly were they walking into?

The first thing they noticed was the power generator was still working… somewhat. The lights flickered on and off sporadically, with no rhyme or reason to it. Not that it helped all that much, given the level of grime and buildup coating them did a fair deal of dimming the effect of the lights. To be frank, the entryway they had chosen seemed like a bomb had gone off. The last thing they noticed before sharing a somewhat wary glance, was the looming sense of dread that hung thick in the air.

Something was terribly wrong.