Warning: Explicit Fiction Ahead

Please be advised, while I don't always go explicit in my fiction, there is excessive swearing ahead for feel and energy in the update. Star Wars swearing wouldn't be the same. Reader discretion is advised.

Fiction

Burning, flaying, they're falling apart…
Life, it’s fading, it's doomed from the start…
Kill fast.
Faster, shoot faster, kill them right now!
Cull all the weak, let me show you how…
It's easy.
Here, watch me play. Rise in the
Bloodlust, it's your turn to play.
Go crazy. You're learning the art.
It's murder, you're doing your part.
Be quick.
Don't let that one flee. Just cut her down quick, then you will be free,
For torture. Make that bitch hurt.
Get fucking grim, press her face in the dirt,
And make her choke!
Eat dirt little whore!
You might be a kid, I'll just hit you more!
I'm twisted!
I'm terribly sick. I'll kick your teeth in
And end with a trick.
I'll pull your head off,
Just with the Force.
I'll slit your intestines
And eat your spleen with a fork
And knife!
I'll cut your heart out.
Cry all you want, I don't care about
Your pain.
Don't care if you cry.
Scream, moan, bleed, struggle,
Kick, punch, boil and bubble
While I heat up your bath.
Just die!
Just die!
Die!
Die!
Die…

His eyes shot open with a start, adrenaline and emotion visibly apparent even in the dilated pupils. His breath was heaving, the sound of almost panicked gasps for air breaking the silence of darkest night. His gaze shot from corner to corner of the bleak, obscure room around him. Where was he?

Who was he?!

It was impossible to tell. All he could feel was panic, despair. Rage. Death, destruction. Pain, torment. Something was wrong. All around him were the screams of the dying, the tortured, those whose lifeless bodies would soon be tossed into mass graves and tossed into--

His eyes opened once more. This time, there was no panic, no adrenaline, nor rage or fear. There was no impotence, but only control.

The Sith Master didn't sleep well these days, but was forced to tolerate periods of rest when his body could no longer support his almost obsessive pursuits on Dathomir. The Proconsul of Tarentum had recently come to the surface of the planet to assist with the reinforcement of the Nekros Syndicate. Solas had originally come to the Shaevalian with the plan to seek out the secrets of the Nightsisters, and had called again after things had turned sour.

There was certainly power on Dathomir, but it was fighting back.

In the past, when Tarentum had been at the height of their Necromancy, dark powers had pushed back and siphoned away the arts of the Clan of Life and Death. Some had mistakenly blamed the Keepers. In truth, Shade and Tel’Ratha; Talitha, Nilani and Khyven had all been servants, and had been pawns among the Tarentae. In return for granting freedom, protection and alliance, the Keepers had given power to Tarentum, had drawn in Masters Zero, Spears and others into their circle. Tarentum had doors opened unto it that would never be sealed, even beyond the end of their decrepit companions.

No, it was not the Keepers who had betrayed and nullified the powers of Tarentum.

Sith had his suspicions, but had not voiced them to any of his peers. No one in Tarentum knew who the Shaevalian believed was at fault. He -- the Sith Master, last of the High Warriors, the Grand Chamberlain of the Tarentae -- would not be cut off from his powers by just anyone. And, as perhaps one of the most powerful, and most knowledgeable of Tarentum's Necromancers, it would take quite a master to deny him from anything…

And so they came to Dathomir.

Solas had concocted the plan, but Sith had twisted it to his own ends. He had conferred with Farrin, and told the Consul the true purpose to seeking out the Nightsisters:

The witches had left behind secrets to powers, and tomes of learning that even the Star Chamber had no access to. And Tarentum would inherit them.

But now, the spirits of the witches long-gone were fighting back. They didn't want their rest interrupted, nor their secrets unearthed. Their bodies were returning to fight, their souls crying out from their restful tombs, and the descendants of their former pets were coming to fight off the warriors of Tarentum. In the dreary woods of Dathomir, among the haze of power and memory, surrounded by the misty tendrils that seemed to be the planet itself clutching at the Clan of Life and Death, the Ghost Dragon of Tarentum had come. And the hellions of Tarentum followed with.

Among those who had come on their own were the Grey Wolves, some of those loyal warriors of Tarentum that cared not for the Sith and their ways, but remained true to the Consul and Clan. They were warriors, mercenaries and Force-users that could turn the tide of battle. And though they did not always agree with the ideology and methods of their brethren, they stood shoulder-to-shoulder with their Sith kin to fight back against the risen witches.

Here were the Deathsworn, the Nekros, and the other grim warriors of House Mortis. Each of them stood ready to fight the final resting place of Daka’s Orb, the relic that was believed to be the cause of all of the unrest. Solas and the Nekros has found clues that reasoned that the old witch had come forth and set her lost baubles on this course of battle. If they could retrieve the Orb and stop Daka, Tarentum would be able to claim the treasures of Dathomir, and the powers of the Nightsisters.

And then Farrin, Sith and Frosty would unlock those secrets. And then they would be given to the whole of Clan Tarentum.

And Sith knew that these powers would be fought as well. He knew that, much like previously, others would stand against Tarentum and seek to strip them of their path to supremacy over death, destruction, dying, life and rebirth. It was such a potent force to hold, there had to be opposition to it. Especially against Tarentum. No one wanted to see the Clan grow into the power it had once been. Better to keep it small, isolated, cut off from allies and strength. It would be the only way to prevent the Tarenti warriors from lashing out at the rest of the universe. The Tarenti and Tarentae could be fierce in war, and would strike out against all who were not numbered among them…

Or, at least, that was the fear that spread among other factions. And so, great rituals were enacted to cut them off from the Keepers and their powers.

It had happened before. It would likely happen again. And the Summit of Tarentum was committed to constant readiness, and seeking out any and all paths to Oblivion. The witches would fight them, but they would be cut down, and their souls forced into servitude. The enemies of Tarentum would stand in defiance against, but would be thrown back in defeat.

Bloodfyre stood from his bed and cleared his mind. He was prepared, and so was his Clan. With a small wave of his hand, the flaps to his tent were tossed aside, and the clutching mists of Dathomir trailed in, promising to stop him in his tracks.

But it was only mist.

Sith strode triumphantly towards the men and women of Tarentum, the warriors of the Clan of Life and Death, and prepared to lead them from the vanguard towards the final battle of Dathomir.

Deception, betrayal, deceit, fucking lies.
Don't mess with me, bitch,
Or I'll stab out your eyes.
Fuck you!
Yes I'm filthy, obscene. I'm rotten,
Corrupt, or just downright mean!
I hate, your draw to the light. I even loathe
The dark warriors who fight
On the same side!
I'm Death, consuming all life.
Feeding, eating, transforming in strife.
Towards power, towards oblivion, pain,
Taking you downward in the spiral again.
Ever downward!
Ever downward!
Ever downward…

March To The End

The March To Dathomir and all of its events are coming to a close! Ladies and gents, there's still plenty of time to submit to events and be a part of things. There's very simple events and more elaborate ones. There's even a flash zombie game! Go zombie golfing and try to beat Saitou’s score. It's a good one. I won't spoil it, but I think someone out there has a chance to beat it!

Go check out the umbrella competition page and its events from there. Find something you want to compete in, and have some fun. :)

May Our Future Be Brighter

If you've looked at the rosters for our entire Club, you might have noticed something fun. Not many years ago, Tarentum was the smallest Clan on a very dismal foundation. We had some very abysmal happenings, disenfranchised members, and an apathetic outlook. Our Clan was just really disinterested in the Brotherhood as a whole.

Things changed.

We have a membership that remembers that Tarentum is a family. We are a united front. We are an interested, motivated part of the Brotherhood. What's more, we are now the second-largest Clan in the Club. Ladies and gentlemen, your efforts to be involved and bring in friends and family has made Tarentum a success numerically. But here's the thing -- we need to generate activity.

As leadership, we want to offer quick-and-easy comps, as well as in-depth events. We could use feedback. Tell us what you think of events we're running and what you'd like to see. Additionally, there's Brotherhood-wide events; I like to submit to the Haiku events. Whatever time and interest you have, there's something here for you. Email the Clan Google Group, or the leadership separately. Get on Telegram in the Tarentum channel. One of us will always be around soon enough to help.

Or hey, take the survey. What survey, you ask? The Summit has some questions for you. :)

Let's make sure Tarentum earns our rightful place. We're capable of greatness. There's life behind “Tarentum Momentum,” and that's all of you.

To Wrap It Up

• Read the fiction, no way around it.
• The [March To Dathomir] event is drawing to a conclusion.
• Tarentum is bigger, let's be more active as well.
• Tarentum is family. Be united. Be friends. Be our best. I love you guys. Have a great weekend!

-Beef