Archpriestess Aay'han Agrona Beviin, Battlemaster

Equite 2, Clan Taldryan, Sith, Mandalorian
158
Total Fiction Activities
55
Regular Fiction
41200 words in 41 activities
Run-Ons
7971 words in 12 posts and 4 activities
Roleplaying
5488 words in 7 activities
Displaying fiction activity reports 31 - 40 of 55 in total
Competition
The Good, The Bad, and the Completely Insane
Textual submission

Things had spiralled into true darkness after Zakath’s death, Nath had nothing left to anchor herself she felt the waves of loss keenly. The self inflicted hermit-ting only made things worse, she sat for days and nights meditating, trying to grasp at anything of him in the Force. It was beginning to seem helpless even to her own addled mind. Some dogged sense of need spurred her to continue, the lock of her door for now seemed to have been unhampered with; for that she was grateful.

Carefully her mind drifted on the ebb and flow of the Force, she was aware it beckoned her to a memory, one she had not considered in a few years. The Iridonian didn’t wish to go there, tears burned, threatening to spill but never quite managing the momentum to fall.

Please no.

She had fallen far from grace, begging, really?

You must.

…I cannot look there…

Before she knew it the Sith was assaulted by the scent of Naar Sheddha, the city was a metropolis for a Merc, one could easily find work and Nath at the time had made a living protecting, killing and generally being a heartless soul lost but just about keeping her head above water. The money was the only reason she took that specific contract, of course, it was too good to be true, the Twi’lek had told her something just shy of a Messiah sized falsehood. It wasn’t as though Nath was stupid, she had known at the time, but had managed to miscalculate quite spectacularly.

As her Employer made his way to the Port she had felt it before she saw it. Her instincts screamed danger, screamed so loud in fact that she had stopped walking and it was not until some five paces later the Male noticed. She’d be damned if she could recall his name though. The one thing that stuck with her was his scent, he smelt like prey; it made her bare her teeth and subconsciously make him flinch at any opportunity possible for sheer entertainment.

The animal inside her was not laughing now, it prickled in her mind and told her to run. With no small amount of force she ignored her instincts and to her own folly it had been. The crowds parted for him. In Nath’s experience that was never something that bode well, again the Iridonian’s instincts sensed him before she caught sight. The warmth of heat radiated off his scales, the scent of cleanliness and sheer alienness of him; everything screamed Barabel, predator and male. This slap in the face was what forced her to reassess her situation, normally it was seen as bad for business to drop a contract. And yet, he had lied to her, had spoken falsehoods as he placed credits in her palm knowing that she would never survive. At best Nath figured she was a nice distraction so the Twi’lek could attempt to flee.

Unfortunately for him, he had been completely oblivious to her soon to be Master and his stalking of them. Nath ensured she remained closer, and waited for him. She would not die for this pleb, and to have the mountain of scales and muscle to do it sat ill with her also. The soon to be Apprentice did not have long to wait, the mountain arrived as she had predicted.

The Twi’lek squeaked like some kind of pet animal, the sudden change denoted as she scented his acrid fear and it was all she could manage to not vomit by its pungent scent. The Barabel was quick enough to inform Nath of what she had suspected all along, that he had lied and was happy for Zakath to tear through her in the hopes of holding him up just long enough to flee.

The Iridonian recalled the red haze that had descended then, the rage, the palpable tension that she had been ignorant of knowing was the Force prodding her to act. Nothing was quite so liberating as the feeling of her knife as it shredded through skin, blood vessels and sinew. The choked sounds and the spray of life essence had been intoxicating to her like the best drugs and none of the downsides.

Zakath had been puzzled by this turn of events but not displeased, he had chased that Iridonian across half of the Port to catch her, the fact that she was smart enough to survive, clever enough to try and escape him it all pointed to the final conclusion that the Force had paired them in his eyes. Nath had not taken quite so kindly to it she had fought like a rabid animal once disarmed only to realise that her teeth and nails had very little damage potential against his scales. He had allowed her to continue until she stopped of her own accord, the tall Iridonian had wiry muscle but little else to her that could damage him in hand to hand combat.

They had eaten together, steak, it was nice meat too not that processed crap that was so common when you had very little money. Nath savoured it as though it was her last meal; at the time she was almost certain it was going to be. The meat had barely been cooked, crimson pooled on the dish and the metallic tang that danced along her tastebuds was like she had reached heaven. Whilst they ate Zakath had explained where he hailed from and whom he served, it had made the meal very bitter sweet for the Irdonian. She had realised that there was no way that she would be allowed her freedom now.

She had not been discouraged though, she still attempted to flee and yet again he had given chase which culminated in being assaulted violently to apprehend her. Nath had slept so well, no dreams, just the welcomed peaceful blackness as she was physically taken away to begin a life which though she had not chosen she would never regret.

***
“Open the door by force.” Kordath spoke gravely, he had worried how his previous Master had taken the news of Zakath’s passing. He had attempted many times to get in touch with her, something had niggled at the back of his mind that there was something very wrong but he could not place a finger on exactly what.

“Scans have detected detonators at the doorway.” Xenna spoke calmly, but she too had growing concerns over the welfare of the secretive Iridonian. It had been radio silence since before the news had even reached her. The fact that Kordath had turned up in person to find her just made the worry that wriggled in her belly worsen, would she be reprimanded for this?

“Cut through the wall instead then.” Kordath gave a slight sigh, he had known Nath wouldn’t make things easy for them but had not expected this.

It took hours to cut through the ancient stone, but no one seemed to be willing to give up just yet. When finally the dust from the rubble cleared there was a silence that seemed to hang in the air so thickly that one would not need a lightsaber to cleave it. The Ryn was the first through the hole, the room was pitch but from the light in the corridor he spied Nath sitting in her meditations. The curse that escaped his lips was perverse and yet did not do the scene justice. His eyes felt as though they lied to him, what sat before him was not his Master, the sallow cheeks giving her cheeks the look of a cadaver. Breathing so shallow her chest barely rose at all, she looked dead.

Xenna followed him through soon after standing next to the Ryn with a sense of sorrow that she was uncertain of, never had either of them witnessed a Force Sensitive waste away as this, and yet they could still feel her presence, it permeated the air; she yet lived. Kordath was the first to move, careful to not trigger his Master’s instincts he carefully picked her up and was slapped yet again across the face by how light she felt in his arms.

The scream that echoed in their ears was not one that was physical, it perferated through the Force, loud, and sorrow laced as the Iridonian was carried out towards the nearest medical facility.

“She comes back to HQ no arguments, make her fit for travel.” Kordath spoke harshly to the medical officer as though it was partially his fault. He did not really blame anyone, but the screaming he could not only hear but also feel made his nerves prickle uncomfortably. He knew Skar would feel it, he should probably get in touch with the Kaleesh soon and let him know what had happened.

Competition
Aftermath: Week 3 Scene Writing 2
Textual submission

It is with regret that we announce the death of Nath Agrona member of Clan Arcona, House Galeres, she passed at the age of twenty five in service to her Clan.

Many knew of her but few knew her. Born on Iridonia she was found by the now deceased Zakath Agrona and brought into the fold of the Shadow Clan.

Diligent in her service, Nath has served both Galeres and Qel-Droma. In her time she has served within Dark Forge, Shadow Gate, Nighthawk, Soul Fire and most recently Tal'mahe'Ra.

Her pride however, are her Students Skar Agrona and Kordath Bleu d'Tana, whom she trained and have accomplished much within the Clan.

She also created ties in and outside Clan Arcona. Some had more substance than others but are of equal mention.

As her wish there will be no service held, her remains have been passed to Kalon Tsucyra Entar who will carry out her final wishes as laid out in her will.

It was also a part of her will to make known that there are those who will receive private messages, these will be delivered in short order.

*Death is just the next step.*

Competition
Aftermath: Week 3 Scene Writing 1
Textual submission

It was as though the gods wept crimson tears of blood.

It seemed to accumulate in the air and coat anyone that came within the vicinity. Bodies lay crumpled, wounded cried out but the uninjured weren't occupied with their well being.

By the time the Arconan's arrived it was difficult to ascertain friend from foe, those who attacked were cut down with prejudice. The rest were left to fight their battles. Mingled into the out cries of those dying were the battle cries, and the silent but equally felt relief of the Shadow Clan's arrival.

No pause was given, no ground and no mercy.

The acrid metallic tang invaded the senses and there was nothing left but rage.

For the dying.

For the dead.

And for the oppressed.

None could find hope here, the last stand, desperate and savage.

Competition
Aftermath: Week 2 Scene Writing 2
Textual submission

Nath sat hunched over, her hands clenching and relaxing slowly.

She had decided.

There was a certain satisfaction in killing things with your bare hands, watching slowly as the life drained away. The emotions and stages could be observed, in those moments you saw who you were really killing.

She wanted to see whom she loathed and whom wanted so passionately to see her family’s extinction.

Competition
Aftermath: Week 3 Poetry 3
Textual submission

Knowledge is power
You may be eternal now
But we will succeed

Competition
Aftermath: Week 2 Scene Writing 1
Textual submission

“The report is damaged my Lady.” The Soldier trembled before Atyiru, uncertainty laced every word.

“It matters little, play the audio, I wish to hear.” She sat upon the throne and reclined back knowing this would be grim, knowing what Nath was capable of. Interference rang within the chamber and eventually the audio began.

“It’s been awhile.” Nath’s voice was the first to speak.

“I see you’ve grown a bit since last we met.”Wuntilla spoke much more calmly than she, her voice had been laced with anticipation. A ringing sound of a blow reverberated through and silence descended.

“Why did you kill her?” There was a resonating sound of joints being popped, the Iridonian gearing up for more physical violence no doubt. More interference boomed through the audio, whatever occurred next only Nath could tell, the Consul made a note to summon her regarding it.

“No need to get excitable Iridonian, I killed her because I was ordered to do so, the fact that she intended to unite the three Clans under one rule was just a bonus for doing the dirty work.” The Battlelord seemed unphased by the Krath’s violent outburst.

“Enough.” Atyiru commanded. “Where is Wuntilla now?”

“They remain enroute my Lady, they have already requested for urgent medical aid and Nath Agrona has departed them.”

“Ensure he survives, and find the Iridonian.” She dismissed the Grunt with a wave of her hand, the chamber descending into silence as she was left to her musings.

Competition
Aftermath: Week 2 Poetry 2
Textual submission

The beat hastens now.
Faster, we sprint to our goal
fearless to the end