All Saints Day

Yridian system Yridia IX

Eden City wasn't a bustling center of activity; in sincere appraisal, it wasn't even much of a city. It was the least restricted spaceport into and out of the Yridia system and was quietly run by the regional criminal networks. It was a series of domed settlements that allowed life to survive on an otherwise uninhabitable rock. Each of the domes might have been considered a gift and marvel of engineering, but most of the inhabitants saw them as a prison. If you lived under the domes, the odds were that you'd also die there. People didn't make their fortunes in Eden. People didn't buy passage off the rock and go elsewhere.

In Eden City -- and even the whole of Yridia -- people lived and worked for not very much, scraped together as much as they could and tried not to get shot. No one really thrived here. People just couldn't afford to get themselves out into a better part of the galaxy. Oh, sure, there were ways to do it. You could indenture yourself to some crime lord and hope they'd let you pay off your debt. But that was potentially worse than even surviving in Eden. No, the people of the domes were generally a very dour lot, a very blunt people. They knew and accepted their situation and worked to make sure they didn't piss in the wrong person's cereal.

Under the domes of Eden City, one of those “wrong people” dwelled in the shadows and manipulated the lives of nearly everyone within the system. Few knew his face, let alone his name. But they called him “Boogeyman” and whispered dark tales and evil rumors of him to frighten children, or startle even the hardiest of soldiers. His touch was ice, and his fingertips upon your skin would cause instant frostbite, or paradoxically the deepest of burns. He was a demon, the lord of doom and oblivion himself! No one knew where he lived in the city, but the rumor mill said that he must've haunted the abandoned Asylum that had been the heart of a sadistic research project that had gone on for years. Children would dare each other to find bravery enough to look upon the Asylum from outside the gates. Drunken fools would wager beers and rounds of drinks as to who could walk the farthest into the exterior grounds. No one ever collected, as all bets were forgotten when the terrible, penetrating cold of the place seeped into your very soul.

The wrought-iron gates sectioned off and marked the limits of the Asylum property, but several rows of buildings in all directions around it were abandoned as well. As though someone erected a protective circle that would shield the property from the rabble. Or perhaps it protected the locals from the evils therein. No one would live near the place. No one would do business in its shadows. If it wasn't haunted, then it was certainly unholy. People even went so far as to wave symbols of warding in the air, or call upon forgotten gods to protect them if they even laid their eyes upon the grim place. It was a house of death, a place of evil.

It was home.

“My brother's home,” the warlord muttered to himself as he stood within the shadows of the monolithic structure. The man looked up, cast his eyes around in appraisal, and grunted approvingly. It certainly fits him. I'd sense him here, invitation or no, Shi thought, nodding to himself.

The Yridian sun was high in the sky. Yet, out here towards the edge of the system, it was a pebble in the sky. Most of the lighting in Eden was artificial. But the sun was there, offering no warmth, no real advantage over the artificial lights. It was as if even the very star of Yridia wanted nothing to do with the unholy abode of the dark one within.

There was a very palpable sensation that made the hairs on the back of the swordsman’s neck stand up. Lesser beings would have certainly recognized their own fears welling in their bosom, and ran from the scene. Even the strong-willed would've stopped in their tracks and, at minimum, considered whether they truly needed to be somewhere else entirely. Shi had business to attend to, and he was accustomed to the feeling of being near his brother, the powerful Elder. He was an invited guest. The aura and power of the Dark Side wasn't meant to deter him.

The gates surrounding the complex were solid, unbroken, and blocked all ingress except for the main entrance, where the gates were perpetually open. The Dark Side itself seemed to keep others away. Or perhaps the rumors of the Asylum’s denizens accomplished that feat. The swordsman strode confidently through the open gates, and his footsteps echoed loudly across the stones of the great courtyard. The walk seemed to waste away eons, but eternity in the Asylum was the space of a few breaths. As he stepped up to the main entrance, the great doors swung open before him. Unseen hands allowed the great warrior entrance, then closed off the Asylum from the outside world behind him.

Come inside. Come forward. Unspoken words echoed in his mind, intoned without emotion or life. Come into the depths of our home and sit with our master. He awaits your presence. Other voices whispered elsewhere, as if echoes throughout each and every hallway. We are so cold. Feed us. Love us. Stay with us. Warm our wretched bones. Join us forever. Save us from our pain. Feel the whips lash across your eyes! Let us bind you in chains, in cold, lonely rooms. As we once were. As ever we now are…

“Well,” Shi had a small smirk on the corner of his lips, “Isn't that an interesting trick?” No guide walked before the man. Shi had never before visited this place. There were no special lights or markings to draw him in. Just hallways. Corners. Staircases and turbolifts. It was a maze. A chaotic mess of random directions and places to go. The sane would be lost. The mad ones would stop caring about egress, focusing on the delightful, delicious torment of staying forever.

Despite the dizzying sensations, the Sadow felt drawn through the building and found his way through the halls and down turbolifts into the depths of the Asylum. The very belly of the place was only accessible from a single, central lift located somewhere within the maddening maze. It opened into a large, open chamber that was cut from the bedrock of Yridia IX. The walls were carved with images and hieroglyphs that appeared to be a manual of ancient rites and ritual sacrifice. Directly opposite the turbolift exit, down a short hallway of perhaps fifteen to twenty meters, was a lavishly ornate, dauntingly massive set of stone double doors. Shi slowly made his way to the portal. Step, step, step. The doors opened as he came close. Standing there awaiting him was the master of the Asylum: The Boogeyman of Eden City and Yridia IX.

“The Dragon in his lair,” Shi smirked, then raised his hand and clasped his brother's arm in greeting.

“And the saintly sword blesses my home with his presence,” Bloodfyre returned. “It is good to see you, brother. I appreciate you accepting my invitation. We have much to discuss.”

“I saw Yridia in ashes in my visions,” Shi said as they walked into the cavernous abode of the Sith Master. The great stone doors behind them seemed to close on their own volition. It was a common theme here -- doors opening and shutting on their own. Was it the Force? Was it the dead serving the Ghost Dragon, as was so widely rumored? “What do you have planned?”

Sith turned and grinned, the light casting deep shadows across his face, making it seem like the ferryman’s leering smile. “Tarentum has lost its way, brother,” the Sith Master answered, “and in the absence of the Keepers and their eldritch powers, the Clan of Life and Death needs to renew itself. Khyron may be dead. Or simply forgotten. And now, his empty throne needs a living monarch. Tarentum needs to remember that the word and decree of Sith Bloodfyre are laws to follow and live by. And Frosty will either become the throne or be washed away from it.”

“You intend to unseat your Consul?”

Bloodfyre’s head turned to his brother for several drawn out breaths as they walked, then back ahead. The Sith Master shook his head slightly in the negative, but the Shaevalian remained quiet. As the two entered the home of the greatest of Tarentum's practitioners, Shi beheld a large war room. This was no place of luxury or lavish indulgence. Great tables had maps and books strewn across them. Computer stations displayed readouts about the Yridia system and its resources. The location and status of all of Tarentum's forces were displayed on one of the holographic projections. Special landmarks were highlighted:Where the area that may have once been a wicked laboratory of some sort; the place where the notorious Sith Master and Necromancer likely raised foul Draugr; the place where tortured souls must have surely suffered unimaginable cruelty and pain... All of these details werewas now laid bare for the Sith Master's plans tofor...--

“You're going to attack your own Clan?” The bemusement in Shi’s voice made the utterance more of a statement than a question, but Sith, used to his brother’s irreverence, did not take the bait.

“I'm going to offer them the same opportunity to grow strong and survive as we were given years before,” Bloodfyre sighed, “or they will meet their deaths at my blade. At our blades, my brother.” Sith continued, more forcefully now, “Tarentum will bleed by dragons claws, but they will rise up and grow. I need your help. The divine powers of the saintly sword, of he who wields my fallen master’s blade will assist me in my goals.”

Shi hesitated, crossing arms of corded muscle across a broad chest. A wave of detachment washed over his face, and Shi seemed to be reconciling something within himself. There was no sound, except for the mark-time chirps and beeps of the war room’s computers as they ran their algorithms and plodded through programming.

The room grew just as full of expectation as it was immersed by the Dark Side; Bloodfyre’s ever-present wards churning eldritch flows from roiling hatred. Yet, the Elder noted, in the midst of the storm grew a singularity, energy akin to yet different than his own. Sith looked at Shi’s face, and the Shaevalian's own became painted with equal parts astonishment and admiration. The swordsman’s power was great; indeed, though it would be years before it would rival his own, Sith surmised that Shi had unfathomable depth, a well of the Dark Side. However, the fact that he could sense a spike in the Force from Shi through his own dark miasma was remarkable. Shi would make a powerful Elder someday, if he survived.

“It’s been tried, you know,” Shi said matter-of-factly. Sith shook his head in response to the sound of Shi’s rich baritone resounding throughout the chamber, slightly annoyed that he’d been caught up in a miniature reverie of his own. His glare did nothing to cease the flow of Shi’s words, however. “This -- this ‘self-culling’...it’s been tried before.” Kensei’s voice took on a weary tone as the man began to absently circle the great table, his long fingers tracing several of the maps and charts scattered about thereupon. His eyes, keen and ever seeking an opening -- a product of his stock in trade, he supposed -- never left the Shaevalian’s as his words prodded and tested defenses. “The whole ‘enemy-of-my-enemy’ thing... becoming the Clan’s greatest threat to unite them...sound familiar? I, too, grew tired of the platitudes, the slogans. Action was needed! And, mine was a terrible crusade.”

Shi became more animated as he recalled the days after his Consulship, tinged claret in his mind’s eye. “I nearly had them! I got close...so close, but, I was only one man. Just one man.” A lone finger stabbed the air, a punctuation of his point. Shi’s lips pursed as he recalled the proximity of his victory and the bitter lesson he learned after. “The help I now see I needed lie beyond Sadow awakening to her strength...” The wistfulness in Shi’s heart tinged the last of his words.

“Yes, your campaign was well-documented,” Bloodfyre interrupted, sparing his brother from reliving the pain of failure. “Be not mistaken, brother; your hubris was their own failing as well...as you are still alive. Had the Sons and Daughters truly taken your lessons to heart, we would not be here to have this palaver.” The Tarentae flashed another easy grin; Shi raised an eyebrow and nodded slightly, conceding the point. Easy to do, in the face of the hope Sith seemed to be offering. The brothers continued to joust.

“Well then,” Shi said, “even you must realize what you are asking of me. Once committed, I won’t be begged off. Not until what’s done, is done.” Shi leaned forward, rough and calloused knuckles pressing into the table to signify the importance of the moment. Sith stared unblinkingly at his Sadow kin.

Parry.

“I have recently been given cause to believe that this time will be different… For me and mine,” Sith deliberately picked up a nondescript datapad, sighing as he did so.

Riposte.

“You’re sure you want this for your people? You stand to gain much, this is true. But you risk much more, brother, giving me free reign. There will be tears, blood... death.” Shi’s statement was pregnant with foul possibility. After all, did the Sword Saint refer to the faceless innocent, or to their own fates should failure be given the slightest opening; but Sith’s confidence warranted nothing less. “How, then? How do we rewrite history, we princes of the universe? Why are you sure of this eventuality being so different?”

The datapad was carried by unseen hands across the expanse of the table into Shi’s awaiting grasp. The pair was shielded from eavesdroppers, but even erstwhile spies would be hard-pressed to know the depth of meaning contained in Sith Bloodfyre’s answer, known only to the two men within the hall:

“The Court has been convened.”

Shi’s face, bathed in the otherworldly green glow of the datapad, began to twist in savage glee as he took in the information. “Is this...are these...? Oh, my. Oh… oh! This’ll do… this’ll do… nicely.”

Sith began to smile to himself as he whirled away from the table, clasping his arms behind his back in thought as he did so. The time of the reckoning was drawing closer, inching, snaking its coils. Death was nigh. And from under the bowels of Eden City, deep within the bedrock of Yridia IX, came a sound that hadn’t graced the halls of the Asylum in many a season.

The sound of laughter.

PCON Stuff

Aloha, friends and freaks. Foes and family. People of every walk of life. The above is considered “background fiction.” There's going to be a monthly selection of it from now on. Not every work of fiction will factor into a competition or anything, but will feature into the background and help people see what's going on in Yridia.

Additionally, small comps will take from that background fiction and give people an opportunity to take from it for their own needs. I'll start releasing these come April 1st. There's other stuff that needs to come first. Priorities! Or Prioris. Secret orders ruling the world and Dan Brown novels. Speaking of which. Scion!

No, he isn't Dan Brown. Bad joke (Priori of Scion). Anyway. Scion. I'd like to commend him. Scion has worked faithfully to show himself as one of our elite writers, dedicated to improving himself and others. He deserves recognition for his writing workshops and his wonderful example to our entire Clan.

Beyond that. Samael and Blackhawk have had the great opportunity to help form and shape a new facet of Tarentum, and they have been doing an admirable job. This Clan really does have a dedicated, motivated group of individuals that are acting for Tarentum's benefit. And believe me, each member of our leadership team is unique, stubborn, creative and always interested in advancing your cause, our cause -- I hate myself a little for saying this, but “Making Tarentum Great Again.”

You knew it had to happen.

Shout Out To Shi

My long time friend and brother, the Sword Saint himself, Shi Kensei wrote that above fiction with me. I think it turned out great, and we had a lot of fun doing it. You can expect to see a lot more cooperative works from Shi (Sai) and I in the future.

Our Teams Are Awesome

Also, give it up for our Team leads. Mawgath and Solas are doing great work trying to put together competitive individuals in Mortis for the Deathsworn and Nekros, respectively. Meanwhile, over in Liath, give it up for Dolash and Rekio of the Viata and Grey Wolves. Cool stuff in the works. I've seen it, but I won't spoil the secrets. More information is on the horizon, but the pillars of Tarentum, the heroes of this Clan are those at and around the rank of Knight. You're going to see these people feature more prominently in Clan fiction and prompts for events. I want to see more of Magik, Garloaf, Jalen Ramz and all. Don't you?

I thought you might.

TL;DR
-Fiction from Shi and Sith.
-I love our QUAs, and I think their AEDs are swell, too.
-Team leaders and Knights+ make me swoon.

I love you all. Have a great weekend, Tarentum!

-Beef