March To Dathomir: Leaving Dathomir

“Anybody can become angry - that is easy, but to be angry with the right person and to the right degree and at the right time and for the right purpose, and in the right way - that is not within everybody's power and is not easy.”

-Aristotle

---

While some in the Brotherhood struggle with the eradication of “undesirable” elements, Tarentum continues to defy orders from above and pursues darker studies. Life and Death have been integral concepts and pursuits for the Tarenti for many years. It is a part of who they are. Some might call them grave robbers or necrophiliacs. The truth is, Tarentum knows the Force affects all things. It is a flow of life and death, but also much farther beyond in both directions. While the Keepers are swept along into history, the obsession with power through manipulating life and death remains.

The voyage to Dathomir was just one stop on the way to power. The secrets of Oblivion were stripped from Tarentum without reason, and thus far, no one has discovered the true reason behind the disappearance of their Necromantic ways. Not everyone can use the Force, and even fewer can strip the Force from those who feel its embrace. The Tarenti have yet to discover the who, but the why is obvious -- there are those who fear power in the hands of others.

Those beings who can sense true power in the cosmos are called Force-sensitive. Those beings who can manipulate the flow of the Force are sometimes called Jedi or Sith. And those who can manipulate and control the glow of life and death?

They are called gods.

---

“This isn't really what I'd call a decisive battlefield victory.”

The collected warriors of Tarentum were shining lights upon, and looking down at the culmination of their efforts on Dathomir -- a glowing, green orb and a few holocrons. The recordings hadn't been accessed yet, but there was little doubt that it would be more than recordings of a decrepit hag.

“Is our proud Clan reduced to robbing graves and playing games of haunting?”

“Perhaps I have not made it instinctively clear why we came here,” Sith's eyes turned from the small cache and he rose to his full height. There was no malice in his voice, because it was right that his brothers and kin should know what the purpose of this mission was. “The Nekros were sent to Dathomir to see if there was anything left over from the Nightsisters, and we are here to claim this prize.”

“To what end? Why do we need these baubles?”

“Hades, old friend,” Sith turned his eyes to the man, “we have enemies. This will not shock you. We all know that there are those who stand against us. Some have sought our power. Others have stripped it from us. It was never made clear why our previous arts were torn from our control. I cannot yet reveal all that I know, but I believe I am close to the truth. As we close in on those who plotted against us then, we will need to become the masters of Life and Death once again.”

“We are powerful.”

Magik stood towards the rear of the gathered Tarenti, and all eyes turned towards him. He hadn't expected rapt attention.

“We have technology that buffers us,” the Knight continued, “and we have superior warriors among us. Who could possibly defeat us?”

“If only that were true.”

Bloodfyre waved a couple of soldiers over and directed them to gather the remnants of the Nightsisters power. It would not be long before the gathering would return to Tarentum's ships and make the voyage home to Yridia.

A cadre of black-robed humanoids blocked the entrance to the cave, obviously intending to block Tarentum's egress.

“Leave those relics, Tarenti. Our lords have claimed them as your rightful tribute to their power. You are directed to leave this place before you call it your eternal resting place.”

“We do not recognize you or your masters’ claims over this, whomever you are,” Ranarr growled low, “and you are foolish to threaten the Clan of Death.”

The robed beings took lightsabers in hand -- some wielding one or two weapons, others double-bladed -- and ignited them without hesitation, but made no further move to advance.

“I advise you to give up this quest, and leave our lords their prize,” the head man responded with a deep rumbling baritone, “lest you be deemed undesirable and eradicated from this life.”

“We are the masters of death!” Geosh yelled in defiance, as all three Romanae shouldered to the front line, weapons in hand. “Tarentum will rule the beyond as well. And you will pave the way to my throne in hell, fool!”

Like a sea of absolute terror, waves of fear washed over everyone present -- both obsidian-clad assailants and Tarenti alike. It was thick and palpable, and all heads turned towards where they felt the source of power. Their eyes deceived each, and showed a simple man standing in their midst, yet the shimmering waves of power surrounding him seemed to suggest his true form. A hazy mist surrounded him, or perhaps his physical form was being smoldered away and giving off smoke or steam.

The low growl emitting from his throat began to rise in decibels at a steady pace. The black-clad intruders knew that the end was coming, but the fear of their lords kept them from turning on their heels and retreating. They had been sent to claim a treasure for their masters.

They had been sent to fight a dragon.

The Romanae broke into a sprint and lashed out at the offenders when their weapons came close. The rest of Tarentum followed suit. And a dragon unleashed his fury.

---

Between the two lordly individuals was a sea of power. They were separated by mere inches, and joined by such a potent alliance. Yet, between them could be felt such cosmic strength and auras of swirling emotions. They were no mere acolytes, but true masters in their arts. Heads rolled at their command. Lords rose to stand among them by their whims. Out among galaxies of stars, they were mortal vessels of godliness.

“We lost contact with them shortly after their arrival to Dathomir. We can have no doubt that they encountered Tarentum, yet they should have checked in by now.”

“So it's possible that the Clan of Death has trinkets of power in their possession. Good for them.”

“The Nightsister cult may have had access to powers that were decreed out of Tarentum's possession.”

“Even if they are able to unlock the secrets of the witches, it will be some time before they are able to do so, and able to become a threat to us. We'll have other opportunities to regain those baubles.”

“And if they beat our expectations, and are able to acquire those magicks?”

“Plans are already underway if that should prove to be true.”

“If I may, I believe there may be another alternative.”

“Speak plainly.”

“We obviously do not have the strongest ties with Tarentum. I believe we have an opportunity to draw some Tarenti to our viewpoint, and strengthen those ties. And to potentially prevent instances like this in the future with… a guiding hand.”

“Call him forth. We'll encourage Tarentum to us, and away from their false saviors.”

---

“Do we… want to talk about what happened?”

“Why? What is it you think happened?”

“Come on. There's no way I was the only one who saw the… well, that dragon. Giant wings, utter blackness. I felt like my very soul was being suffocated while that thing rained down blackness and death on the place. And then, just like that, it was gone. And… some of the others were drinking the blood of those guys.”

“I think you were hallucinating, man. You should probably go get checked out.”

“No, I mean it! I saw the Romanae all jump on those guys at the end and rip open their throats and drink their blood!”

“You're nuts, you know that? Let's get you to the medics. You probably blacked out and dreamed most of that. Those fools were cut down by the strength of Tarentum. Not by dragons, and blood-drinking Romanae.”

“But Master Bloodfyre. He's one of them. Gwei Long. The Ghost Dragon. Maybe he transforms and stuff! He could be a real dragon!”

“Here's the thing. If you ever see Darth Aeternus on the battlefield, you'll swear he turns into the Blade of Death, reaping our enemies in a bloody spray. Master Bloodfyre is an Elder, and they're strong. The Romanae are like demons, warriors without peer. I think you just hit your head, and saw what you wanted.”

“I've felt Master Bloodfyre’s aura before. He radiates fear. It's oppressive. This was different. It was destructive. It was like death grew wings and flew around, breathing nightmares and opening up the fires of hell on our opponents. I've never seen such things!”

“Well, then allow me to welcome you again to Tarentum. The fantastic and grim, the nightmarish and legendary are all a part of our daily lives. Now, come on. Let's go get you checked out.”

“But it all seemed so real…”

Lessons From Dathomir

Friends!

As leadership, we have taken several lessons from this finished event. That being said, I want to thank all those who participated. As we move on, we will be trying to make sure all of our future comps are compelling and inviting. Please, feel free to provide us with any and all feedback about what we've been doing, and where you want to develop your own character.

Apply For CON

As you may have noticed, our beloved Consul Farrin Xies has moved on to become our beloved Headmaster. He's on the DC! As such, the position of Consul is open. And, if you think there's no point in applying because “Beef will probably just get it,” you're wrong! I've been CON, and I'm happy to just play a supportive role. So you all, apply for CON! Send your applications to Sarin and Mav. Step up and volunteer to lead this Clan!

Wrapping Up

TL;DR
-Fiction; go back and read.
-We learn when you participate.
-Farrin is HM; Apply4CON!

Have a great weekend. I love you guys!

-Beef