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

The Stygian Curse


This run-on is invite only.

Current participants:

A’lora Kituri
V’yr Vorsa
Selika Roh
Atyiru Caesura Entar


Outer Rim Territories
Stygian Caldera
Kalakar Four

The feeling was not unlike being swept into an uncontrollable current. Waves of turbulence rocked the Gallofree medium transport with tidal force, threatening to tear apart the clamshell of a hull - not unlike that of an oyster being opened to reveal the treasure inside. Fear gripped the pilot’s instincts, who bashed helplessly at the controls as a swimmer might claw for breath while drowning.

For the moment, it seemed that A’lora Kituri was along for the ride. Alarms blared throughout the failing craft as if to mimic the dangers she was sensing in following their current trajectory. Unbuckling herself from the passenger’s seat, she hoisted herself up on unsteady legs. She hated space travel almost as much as she hated the nausea that followed plummeting to one’s doom on some backwater planet. Gripping the seats in front of her, she used them to stabilize herself enough to stumble into the cockpit.

Desperation took hold of his muscle memory and focus so completely that he almost hadn’t heard the voices in his head. “The clearing, take us there.”

For a moment, it seemed that some small measure of hope remained. The transport lurched at the pilot’s command as the aft repulsors were reengaged. Although the Gallofree accellerated towards the surface, it seemed that it would make it to the clearing.

She couldn’t have been more wrong. Smoke billowed out from behind the medium transport when a jolt shook the entire hull. Cracks formed from the bloodied crater where the pilot’s skull met the transparisteel barrier separating them from imminent death. Heat and flame encapsulated the starship, forming an envelope that scorched the outer hull the moment a jolt of electricity arced into the last remaining repulsor.

The nausea began to grow, her head felt like the epicenter of a thermal detonator. Faster and faster, the remnants of the transport began to rotate along its axis. Metal scraped against metal, and it all faded into darkness.

Intense as the smoke and heat radiating from the sinking wreckage, A’lora Kituri felt like a hot knife was being pressed into her sides. She hadn’t known for how long her crumpled form was motionless several meters from the crash, or how she was thrown this far in the impact.

The smallest of movements drew a breath in the form of a hiss from her lips. Instead of getting to her feet, she resolved to check on her condition. Grimacing against the searing pain, she looked down at the wound - protruding from it, a shard of transparisteel glistened with crimson. Regardless of the bleeding that would occur, she gripped the object with both hands and pulled.

“Argh!” she screamed, tossing aside the shard of glass. She was a survivor, and knew the rudiments of basic self-triage. Although the gaping wound now soaked her lavender skin with blood, she was free to move without the added risk of worsening her internal bleeding. Her frayed clothing remained intact, stained crimson where it was soaked in blood.

Bunching some of the torn fabric of the tattered loincloth in her hands, it tore easily enough to create a small bandage she could use to hold pressure onto the wound. She would need to find something soon to keep infection from her wounded flesh, but it would need to wait. For now, she would need to rest near the warmth of the bonfire that was once her transport onto the surface or risk freezing to death amidst the surrounding bog.


Outer Rim Territories
NSD Dark Star

The perpetual hum of engines and electronics pierced Vorsa’s sensitive hearing like nails on a chalkboard. She disliked ships enough to successfully avoid them at the best of times and run away from them as quickly as possible in the worst. Right now she was stuck in limbo. The Dark Council operated from their ships since the glassing of Antei and now, as part of that Council, Vorsa did too.

The Dark Star served as her temporary home and base of operations, and it was little more than misery for the Neti. Some might consider it an honor, having one of the Council fleet’s ships as their personal office, but she had no such thoughts. Her mind was back on New Tython, the fresh breeze from the Eastern Mountains as the dawn sets on Melewati; the warm sun and arid air in the Great desert, with Korahaii children pitter-pattering around her feet. That was home. This artificial environment felt… alien.

Even her presence on the ship was shunned by the crew. Most looked at her with derision and contempt, openly or otherwise. For once in her life Vorsa was thankful she required no sleep. While no sense of paranoia crept over her at night, it was more than prudent to keep one’s eyes open in a nearly-hostile environment.

Not even the captain approved of her presence. The Omwati woman was loyal to the Iron Throne and disliked Jedi on principle, however unlike most of her crew she displayed professional courtesy when dealing with Vorsa, who only ever gave the woman a smile in return. In time, she knew, even they will come to accept her. Just another commonality in their routine-driven lives. But for now hostility was all too common.

It had been several hours since she received a communique from A’lora about the emergency distress beacon deep within the Caldera. Suffice to say, her orders to turn the ship about and head for the coordinates the Odanite Consul provided, were met with swift resistance from the captain. Only her authority and office convinced her otherwise. She disliked the idea of forcing the Captain’s hand, but this was important to A’lora, and Vorsa sensed, even over this vast distance, her sister was distressed.

Outer Rim Territories
Stygian Caldera
Kalakar Four orbit

“Madam Herald, we have arrived at our destination.” the Omwati Captain spoke in an even tone as Vorsa joined her on the bridge. Her long black-and-gold robe trailed behind her, her face and head covered with it’s long hood. Underneath it she wore her signature K.U.D.F. armor. Bare feet, covered in wrappings, touched the cold steel floor and hands wrapped equally, held tightly onto her cloak.

“Thank you, captain.” Vorsa replied with an ever present smile. She observed the lush jungle moon below, not unlike her own home, Myrkr where she had not been for well over two-hundred years. A sense of nostalgia grasped her firmly, and her desire to leave the artificial cage she was kept in grew strong indeed.

“Prepare a shuttle, captain, then continue on your way. I shall catch up with you at a later time.” the Neti spoke calmly, but firmly.

“Councilor,” the captain started, “our charge is to ferry you on your missions. This is highly irregular.”

“My dear captain,” the Omwati nearly cringed at that remark, “what you say is true but you are also charged with ferrying much needed supplies which, in many cases, cannot wait. So, please, escort me to the shuttle and be on your way. I will catch up with you on one of the border planets.” this time her reply sounded like an order and the captain sighed.

“Ops, prepare a shuttle for the Councillor.” she ordered one of the bridge officers, “I imagine you will be at least taking your guardsman with you?”

“That I will, dear captain. Even if I wished to leave without him,” she turned towards the man behind her and gazed into the visor of the red helmet, “he would most likely follow me anyway.” she paused for a moment, wondering what was going on under that helmet. Her guardsman never really took of the armor while in her presence, nor did he ever speak, even when spoken to. He simply followed his orders to the letter.

“I shall take my leave, captain, if you will allow.” she turned to the captain again and bowed. it was a formality, at best, but one she made sure to follow. The captain simply motioned her approval and returned to her duties as the Councillor left her bridge, followed closely by the same looks she’d been getting all along.

Outer Rim Territories
Stygian Caldera
Kalakar Four

Vorsa sensed A’lora’s presence clearly enough, though it was faint among all the flora and fauna living on the planet. Her connection with her sister was truly a boon at times like these. They could sense each other over vast distances, even communicate to a degree, though their abilities had limits. Their ship had just entered the atmosphere when a warning light flashed on the pilot’s console.

“We’ve lost our port engine.” the pilot said with a confused look on his face, he turned to the co-pilot, “Run a diagnostic and…” another light flashed and the pilot’s eyes widened.

“We’ve lost our starboard engine as well.” he bellowed at the armor-clad guardsman, “Strap yourselves in. We’re going down.”

The Lambda shuttle crashed from the sky like a missile, smoke trailing behind it. It grazed the tops of the trees, slowly descending down further. Without an apparent clearing the pilot could do nothing but pray. The ship hit the tallest branched with it’s extended wings. After too many hits they fell of first. The ship barrel-rolled forward, it’s nose and cockpit smashing into a massive tree trunk, crushed to bits by the blow. The ship span in circles before slamming into another massive trunk, bending it’s square shape around it’s oval body.

Everything stopped for several moments, before the ship started falling towards the ground, smashing branches and tree trunks along the way. Finally it stopped, entangled by a multitude of vines, some ten feet of the mossy floor. The rainforest erupted with activity, birds flapping away from the loud noises, other animals following suit.

Several minutes later, the side hatch on the shuttle flung open and Vorsa’s head peeked outside, surveying the surrounding area. The Neti was bruised and beaten but alive, as was her Guardsman, now unconscious beside her. She knew the man was alive. She could sense his life force clearly. Vorsa transformed her arm into many vines with a single thought and grasped the guardsman gently. She lowered the man slowly onto the ground and leapt down herself, taking in the smells and sounds of the forest.

Swiftly and deftly enough she carried the man away from the crash site and found a clearing large enough to care for his wounds. Hopefully they would find A’lora soon. This place had a sense of danger about it. A sense that made the Neti feel uneasy.