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.

Round 1

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.

Round 2

Green mists fill the air as you tread deeper into the nightmarish swamps of Dathomir. The beasts have fallen back to lick their wounds, repulsed by your powers. Perhaps your former companion has fallen, or simply retreated to treat their own injuries from combat. A new companion arrives as the green mists sink lower to the ground, and the dead begin to rise. The fallen corpses of Nightsister and Nightbrother warriors have now risen to stop you. Press on and cull these forgotten fighters. Don't be held back from your ultimate goal of a Nightsister fortress!

Green mist rose from the mud as Scion Tarentae trudged toward higher ground. Visibility was quickly diminishing, and Scion realized he had lost sight of his companion, Solas Night-Thorn. It was impossible to reach the epicanthix telepathically and the swamp was full of large, aggressive creatures so he decided against calling out. The Knight would have to make his own way from here.

The ground was littered with small bushes and vines here, as the ground began to rise a little higher off the water table. The mud wasn't as thick, but the going was still slow. Every step took more effort than the last. Before long, Scion had taken out one of his lightsabers to slash at the bushes ahead of him and clear the path. The mist was thick enough now that he couldn’t even see clearly what he was slashing at.

The slow whum, whum, whum of the blade must have attracted some attention. A strong male voice called out through the mist and he froze in his tracks.

“Tarenti?” it asked, confidently.

Scion hesitated, stretching out around him with his thoughts and trying to regain situational awareness. He chided himself for losing his focus; a mistake like that could easily have cost him his life.

“Tarentae,” he corrected. He had not recognized the voice, but it sounded human. He reckoned it was worth the chance. He could sense the man nearby but could not see him yet.

“Ooh, fancy. It’s Kano. House Mortis.”

“Scion. Your Quaestor. Not sure we’ve met yet, but Fremoc and I are good friends. Partner up for a stretch?”

“Sure,” Kano said. “Where are we--”

All around them the thick undergrowth came to life. Scion could feel it begin to move around him, grasping and clawing at him like strong fingers grabbing, scratching and clawing… actually quite a lot like fingers. The unmistakable sound of rasping, strained breathing began all around him. A grin emerged on the old man’s face as he came to the realization that it was not the plant life that had begun to move.

The dead Nightsisters beneath their feet had begun to stir once more.

“Are you ready for the fun part?” asked Scion, taking a sip from his flask. “Because here comes the fun part.”

The two men began slashing blindly at the grasping arms, while the green fog finally began to dissipate. It revealed Kano standing a few yards away, surrounded by a ring of severed limbs. Beyond him stood a crowd of red clad female figures. Their limbs were gaunt. Some were bent in unnatural angles. Others were missing entirely. As they approached, Scion could see that their flesh was grey and rotting. It sloughed off their legs when they passed through the dense underbrush, and fell off in chunks as they moved.

Something caught Scion’s attention above his head. A large pod hung from a tree branch above him. It shook violently as he watched, and tore open from the bottom to the top. One of the rotting women dropped out of the pod, forcing Scion to dodge out of the way. The pallid figure landed and jumped at him in one fluid motion. It snarled; a hideous sound that felt like it rattled Scion’s very soul. He batted the witch away with a lightsaber, sending an arm with a dagger flying one way and the rest of her the other.

Doubt crept into Scion’s mind just then. The fog had cleared and the army of undead witches that surrounded them was, for lack of a better term, substantial. More pods hung from trees all around them, some starting to open. Kano had thrown himself into the fight wholeheartedly, hacking and chopping vigorously at every opponent he could reach. Scion took a more measured approach. He sized up his targets, looked for unexpected threats, and dispatched each foe as efficiently as possible. Unfortunately, the mass of bodies rising up to surround them did not seem to diminish even as the pair cut their way through them.