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 Dathomarians and their settlements. The desolation was claimed by the Confederacy of Independent Systems after the last Nightsiser 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 rancor still roam freely.

This is Dathomir.

Zujenia absently fiddled with the violet ribbon tied to her right arm as she waited for her spy droid to return. The crimson fog which permeated the dead forest around her gave the half-Ryn the creeps. The sooner she could find what she was looking for and get back to safety the better.

Kordath, that damned fool. My damned fool.

The full-blooded Ryn had gone missing a week ago investigating a subordinate gang of the Shroud Syndicate moving a suspicious amount of military hardware out of Port Ol’val. Usually, Zuj would have arranged a meeting with Morgan on her ship; but in the aftermath of the attempted coup on the Matron, widespread chaos in the Brotherhood and the looming cloud of war, a safer location was required. Word had reached the Qel-Droman through intermediaries that Morgan would meet with her on Dathomir with ‘what you seek.’ Whether the last part of the message referred to information or Kordath himself was unclear.

Dwoid’s familiar chirp snapped the half-Ryn out of her speculative train of thought. Zuj pulled out her datapad to examine the footage her spy droid had brought back for her. As she watched the video on the handheld’s screen her heart sank; she noticed an Inquisitor in a red-accented helmet stalking about the Nightsister settlement with what appeared to be a rather strangely painted magnaguard droid. At one point during Dwoid’s reconnaissance flight it got close enough to pick up a snippet of audio between the stranger and his droid:

“This place is so drab and depressing. Why can’t we set up secret meetings somewhere more colorful that serves mimosas with brunch?” the magnaguard inquired with a slight lisp in its mechanical voice.

“Just stay out of sight, Grinder, and watch the perimeter. I don’t want any surprises.” The Inquisitor’s voice seemed off, like either something was obscuring it or the recording was faulty.

Zuj turned off her datapad. The presence of an Inquisitor complicated things. This was a trap to be sure, but for whom? There was only one way to find out. The Arconan pulled out her bo-rifle and carefully made her way toward the cluster of ruined structures which had once been home to an ancient order of mystics.

The half-Ryn traversed the forest with exceptional care not to make any noise which would alert others to her presence. The fog which hung close to the ground made it difficult to see where she was stepping. Finally, she got within range of the meeting site. The Inquisitor was on the outskirts of the settlement, peering into a partially collapsed stone dwelling. She watched for a few seconds before the Inquisitor pulled out a lightsaber and ignited it to use as a light source. The blade was crimson, the same color as the one which pierced her flesh and nearly took her life. Zuj ducked behind a tree to regain her composure as the memories of that terrible day came flooding back. Her tail instinctively tucked behind her left leg as phantom pain shot through the scar on her abdomen.

Never again.

The Arconan gripped her bo-rifle tight and formed a hasty plan. The Inquisitor was alone and if she used the element of surprise to her advantage, she could subdue him and find out what he knew. Removing the lightsaber from the equation was her top priority. She slowly converted her weapon into its electrostaff mode without igniting it. Then, taking a deep breath, Zuj focused on enveloping her entire body in shadows until nothing visible remained save for a translucent shimmer.

The half-Ryn stalked her prey like a manka cat as she closed the distance between them, keeping out of his field of vision. The Inquisitor shifted like he sensed something was approaching. Zuj assumed some risk and increased her pace. Finally, she was right behind him with her finger on the switch which would activate her weapon. Her body faded back into view as she ignited the bo-rifle and jabbed toward her opponent’s torso to stun him.

As she started to move, he spun around igniting his saber. The masked man batted Zuj’s jab away with a quick movement but attempted no counter-attack.

“Ah ha! I knew you were--wait, you’re not Morgan,” the Inquisitor remarked in a deep, distorted voice.

The Qel-Droman unleashed a flurry of blows in reply, using both ends of the staff with practiced ease against her target’s single saber.

Electric lavender clashed with plasmic red as Zujenia bobbed and weaved the shafts of her bo-rifle in attempts to connect with the Inquisitor himself. She found herself repeatedly thwarted by the cyclonic, repelling counters of her opponent. An arc to his side and the Inquisitor rotated his blade to meet; a jab to the abdomen and the crimson saber circled the charged weapon, directing its momentum away. It was a defensive dance so familiar to the half-Ryn, one she had recently abandoned.

Soresu, resilience. It’ll be difficult getting past those tight coils. I need to distract, to talk.—

— talk. I can disarm her if she's distracted, Turel Sorenn decided. There wasn't any sense in continuing this fight, not when Morgan could still be around. He quickly flipped his right wrist down to block another electric stab with his stolen saber, but held back any counterstrike of his own. He settled onto his heels, still vigilant to the assault, and opened his mouth to drawl.

“So, what brings you to the lovely sights of Dathomir—”

“—What are you doing here?”

The two combatants asked in unison. His lightheartedness of his quip was lost as his voice modular deepened and distorted it, while her inquiry was raised with a lilt accenting her serious tone, and together it was just one inaudible jumble.

“I'm just here hoping some tightly clothed, scowly boys would join this affair,” interjected a metallic voice. GR-1N-DR stepped from around the half-decrepit Nightsister abode, his rainbow-pattern plating contrasting sharply with the monotonous red landscape. “You look busy and I don't know if I can help — I might chip some paint! Jas just redid it last week, you know.”

The Odanite smiled beneath the red-marked chrome helm he wore. The appearance of the magnaguard was just the distraction he needed. The woman backed off a couple paces, her bo-rifle poised between her and the them. Taking the opportunity, Turel let himself dip into the Force and reached out to her mind. He could feel a fierce determination set on removing the threat, but deep beneath was something more weary, a familiar sense of fear: fear of losing someone.

A thought crossed the Jedi’s mind, one that would be unfair to the woman’s internal strife. If she was of the Brotherhood, she certainly wasn't an ally of the Inquisitorius — yet, that didn't mean she was to the Lotus. He had his own family to think of, and if he was going to get out of here — a little hard play was better than harming the girl. Turel drew his left hand down his mask, in part to collect himself and equally in an attempt to pass off the depressing broodiness he assumed the Sithy types had. At the same time, he outstretched his right arm and waved two fingers in a slow arc before his chest, strengthening the idea his words instilled.

“Drop your weapon and take us to the Herald if you wish to see your loved one unharmed.” Turel might go low for family, but kark if he used the line ‘back alive, mwahahaha!’ He exhaled a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding before the Near-Human deactivated her weapon and tossed it aside. She threw her hands up in defense, her sandy tail unraveling from its safe spot coiled around her left leg.

“Alright, I'll take you to her. Just don't hurt, Kord—”

Kord? Like, Kordath? Oh, geez, this lady’s his what? Apprentice? Friend?...Lover? Huh, apparently his crossdressing is appreciated by someone.

His surprised thoughts nearly blocked out the reassurance that she would wreck him if anything did happen to the birdmonkey. Guilt slowly welled inside him, but he brushed it aside. Kordath was one of Sasti’s pals after all. He’d right this by helping the woman in whatever way he could. Right now? He had a sister to find, one who had to answer whose side she was on.

“Go ahead! Walk,” the distorted voice commanded, his crimson saber gesturing. As she turned and lead the way farther into the ruins, Turel thumbed the button on his hilt to deactivate the stolen weapon. “Grinder, let's go. And keep watch.”

“Whatever you say, handsome,” the droid replied, metal hand raised to mimic a yawn as he strode long, jerking paces behind the humanoids.

The unorthodox trio made their way out of the settlement and toward a nearby range of hills. The path was marked with ominous looking wood carvings of long-dead Nightsister matrons. The old witches seemed to follow the unlikely party with their carved eyes.

This place give me the creeps Turel pondered as he walked, reaching out through the Force to search for any sign of his sister, or any other Force users for that matter. The dark side was certainly strong in this area, but something else clouded the Jedi’s senses.

Zujenia led Turel and Grinder to the entrance of a cave at the end of the path. A soft green glow emanated from inside. “The Herald is supposed to be here.” The half-Ryn’s words were still spoken with a dreamlike detachment.

The Sentinel opened his mouth to thank Zuj for complying but thought better of it. He needed to maintain his cover in case things went south. At the same time, he felt guilty for playing on her fear of losing a loved one. An ominous “she’d better be” through his voice modulator was all he could manage.

The Arconan gave no reply, but Turel noticed her body loosen up and her tail slowly wrap itself around her left leg. He didn’t know precisely what that body language meant, but it was apparent his mind trick was wearing off. His mind raced with possibilities as he contemplated what to do next. He didn’t want to hurt her, especially if she was a friend of Kordath’s, but at the same time he couldn’t exactly tell her who he was and why he was looking for Morgan. Sediation seemed like the only option, albeit a cliche one.

The Jedi took aim with his dart launcher. She’d feel a sting at the base of her neck and it would be lights out. She hadn’t moved beyond dropping her shoulders and shifting her tail. Turel wagered the half-Ryn was still in enough of a mental fog to not notice until it was too late.

He was wrong.

A warning flashed across Zuj’s mind screaming at her to move her head. She tilted her neck and torso to the right just in time to hear a projectile whizz by. Without missing a beat the Arconan called on the Force to augment her muscles to help her spin around with almost unnatural speed. Turel started to reach for his lightsaber but couldn’t get it off his belt before the half-Ryn had closed the distance.

I can’t let him get to Kord!

Using her Force-enhanced momentum, Zuj launched herself at the apparent Inquisitor in a high tackle. Pain shot through her collarbone and right shoulder as her soft flesh collided with the metal curiass, but she succeeded in knocking her opponent off-balance. With adrenaline still fresh in her veins, the half-Ryn deftly repositioned herself on top of the stunned Inquisitor, produced a vibrodagger from her belt and placed it at the man’s throat, just under the helm and above the chest armor.

Grinder had not been idle during this exchange and had turned around from his vigil to the party’s rear and activated his multi-color electrostaff. The droid froze in his tracks when he saw the blade at its master’s throat.

Zuj glared at the magnaguard with fierce determination, “not another step you rainbow rust bucket or so help me I’ll paint you with your master’s blood!”

The droid’s photoreceptors shifted rapidly as he calculated the odds of success for various attacks.

“Grinder, stand down,” Turel croaked from under the knife.

Zuj relaxed somewhat and shifted her focus into disrupting the Inquistor’s connection to the Force. She needed a few moments to figure out her next move.

“Take off my helmet.”

“What?” The half-Ryn replied.

“You need to see who I really am.”

Zuj complied slowly while maintaining the knife at the man’s throat. A familiar human face stared back at her.

“I’m Turel, I wish we had met under better circumstances, but I’m a friend of Kordath’s and to Arcona. I believe we can help each other.”

The trio walked for what seemed like forever, passing many of the empty wrecked structures within the settlement. The red water bubbled up from the moss underfoot, seeping around his boot with every step. Turel was beginning to think the woman didn't even know where Morgan was either, or was attempting to convince him as such. He was about to expand his awareness through the Force when the half-Ryn stopped, turning cautiously to face him. Perhaps she was about to admit as such?

She started to open her mouth to speak when loud clanking sounded behind him. He turned to see GR-1N-DR regaining his footing from a stumble, his mechanical arms reaching behind him in an attempt to grab something — a small, black electrically and frantically chirping something. A 9D9-s54 Spy Droid, if he recalled correctly, was pressed with all its might into the back of the colorful Magnaguard’s head. Its slow speed made it difficult to keep out of the way of the larger robot, but at the moment it was evading.

“Get out of my circuits, you, you — rustbucket!” GR-1N-DR exclaimed haughtily.

Distracted, Turel nearly missed the warning jolt of the Force running through his spine. Pivoting on his heels, the Human was affronted by the hybrid launching towards him. He brought his strong arm up to strike out with the butt of the saber, but the woman ducked below it towards his torso. She wrapped her left arm about his extended limb, and used their polar momentum, to twist it outward and behind the man — throwing him to the ground.

Stun for partial second, the Odanite definitely didn't miss the lightsaber being wrenched past his thumb as a burst of pain shot through the digit. Ouch, sithspits! Girl definitely knows how to toss a man around.

He tossed a glance up at the woman, she was too busy chucking the saber as far as she could, shoulders relaxing a bit with the distance. Utilizing this opportunity, Turel pushed himself up and swiped a leg out at one of hers. She must have noted the attack as she attempted to avoid it, but her boot was suctioned into the marshy ground. With both parties fairly eating moss, the two leapt to their feet to confront each other again.

“I suppose this means you aren't planning to bring us to Morgan?” Turel inquired, his voice resuming the altered and deep quality. “Opportunity presented otherwise,” snapped the half-Ryn in return. A loud whack and a high pitch pained trill sounded, the spy droid soaring past them in a rainbow cloud of electricity. “Dwoid!”

Turel quickly closed the distance between them, directing a punch towards her abdomen. She barely noted it soon enough to counter with an open hand, pushing the attack away before launching her own. They exchanged blows and blocks, kicks and redirection, each attempting to get a grasp and subdue the other. It was quickly apparent that the hybrid was trained in the same hand to hand combat as his own, and was more practiced. Sweat building up on his temple, Turel was spending most of his concentration in sensing her moves and redirecting them.

Stretching another closed fist towards the woman, he was surprised when she ducked her shoulder and rolled past him. His masked face re-establishing visual with her, noting a flash of silver. Vibro-blade.

Well that changes things, he mused before sighing inwardly. His right hand withdrawing his blaster pistol from his belt. Time to end this fun—

“Zuj, lass! I knew ya would hiccup come. Well, Morgan said she’d gotten word to ya.” A familiar, and drunk, voice drifted over to the sparring duo. Heads turned to spot the form of Kordath Bleu approaching. “She left ya a message, she did.” He stumbled. “But had ta leave on the account of Mistah Turel possibly showin’ up”

“Morgan is...married?” ‘Zuj’ wonder out loud.

“WHAT?! NO! EW —” Turel exclaimed, taking a second to rip his helmet off in both disgust and horror. Simultaneously, a loud hooting chortle was erupting from the full-blooded Ryn. “SHE’S MY SISTER!”

Kord coughed and righted himself, “Ye, Turel ‘ere is Morg’s brotha’...whots wit that git up, mate?”

The Ryn was found, a thoroughly disgusted taste was now in his mouth, and his attempt to confront Morgan was gone. Turel guessed it was a good enough time to go home as ever.

“Long story. So, you said you had information?...”