Qaela

"Faust was defeated and banished to the darkness for a time. He may be back, as many do, but one can only hope he learned from his folly. If the other Sith, many who fought him earlier, have not done so now, perhaps Faust has learned from his mistakes and the madness has receded. We should all hope that is the case because if it is not, then there is no hope for any who may fall to the lure of utter chaos and lust for death. If he is not cured, then I will be the first to oppose him should it come to it, and I think Ca'Aran would do the same as he once did on Coruscant." She was growing slightly hungry again, so she pulled off the leg of some roasted avian and began nibbling on its flesh. "Your sire was not quite the same. Despite his love for chaos and destruction that was often pointless and unnecessary, he had a sense of honor of his own. He stopped Raynuk from killing me before, and fought on my side a few other times against Sith trying to kill me simply because I was carrying you or not 'Sith' enough. Do not misunderstand, he desired power and killed more than was necessary, but he didn't want to destroy everything. I do not mourn his death, but at least he wasn't treacherous like others. "The old Sith lords, from what I read, were generally monsters unworthy of following. They definitely culled the weak, but they also destroyed more than was needed. There may have been a few that restrained themselves and used their power in accordance to the balance of nature, but not all of them did. There is a large difference in accepting nature's purpose for those who are strong and seeking to destroy and pervert it. Life without death may seem merciful, but that creates overgrazing and eventually nature must strike back with disease or famine will wipe everything out. Death is a part of life, but too much death destabilizes that cycle as too few are left to replenish life. There does need to be war and destruction so that the old and stagnant can be swept away to make room for the new and strong. The old must pass so the young can rise." She finished the leg and placed it on her plate before her. From there, she grabbed a cluster of sweet berries and put them on her plate. "What good is it to have a massive legacy if nobody is there to admire it? What purpose is there to rule if there is nobody and nothing to rule? What point is there to be remembered if everyone only hates you? You will forever remember the Darksong Clan for what it did to you: but is that good for them? Is that the legacy that you would want for yourself? Being feared is not bad, neither is displaying your power through sometimes brutal means. Sometimes, death must be dealt and cities destroyed. Being petty and cruel is without value at all. People recognize strength and, even if they dislike it, they respect it. Cruelty and pointless slaughter don't garner respect, only disgust and hatred. My daughter, kill those you must, but do not kill all or without purpose. "Yes, we must utilize a middle road of sorts. The dark side can lead many to insanity: it caused me to kill Ca'Aran and many of his men and cost me my children. The dark side can also lead to great strength. The key is to always be in control of your hunger and not to displace the balance of nature." Taking a moment to consider the last question, Qaela took another sip of wine and then ate a few of the berries. "Ca'Aran is an honorable man who respects his clan and fights for his allies. He has his flaws, most of which are a result of his past and even some of my own doing. He, like all of us, is tainted and can do terrible, foolish things. However, he also knows how to control himself when it is needed. He would do anything to keep you safe, even if it costs him dearly. I believe he may need to spend some time on his own path just as we must walk ours. I can only hope that when he is reached the end of that path, he finds us there."

Qaela took a deep breath before responding to her daughter. "Faust was a blight, an aberration who sought only to feed his own limitless appetite for pointless death. He went against nature and tried to destroy everything, even the Force itself. It was necessary, and wise, for the Sith and Jedi to join to stop him. It was one of the few moments in which both sides showed a bit of sanity instead of each following their own aimless, petty goals. For so long, the Sith have gone against nature in trying to over cull their dominion. As in nature, the strong should rule, but there are limits to how they should rule. In a pack of rancors, the alpha female is the strongest, most powerful, and wisest. She rules the weaker members of the pack with tooth and claw as nature intended. But if that female grows sick or becomes too power hungry, she destroys and kills other animals for more than food and kills her own pack members when there is no threat or reason. In this case, nature is shattered and only destruction and death follow. There is no need for rancors to hunt everything all the time. They only need to kill some of what they need to survive and fight among themselves only enough to establish the natural dominance. Any more is overkill and leads to imbalance. "Faust grew sick with power and unchecked, unwise, unsustainable lust. He tried to take too much and needed to be put down. We did that and saved us all, even if it had terrible costs." She took another sip of wine and swallowed only after savoring its exquisite taste. "Too many Sith have overgrazed, turned on their own, and are unable to control their own foolish lusts for carnage. They fight among themselves, they kill without purpose, and have become monsters nobody with a sane mind or a choice would follow. There may have once been a time when the Sith were worth following because they were the natural power and leaders, but that time has passed. Now, most are little better than rabid dogs killing and destroying instead of building. We have the ultimate power at our fingertips, yet so many of us squander it with pointless slaughter that only turns the masses against us. The Sith force the Galaxy to oppose them with their own well deserved reputation for carnage. "The Jedi, on the other hand, take the opposite extreme. They have the same power, but choose to become servants to those weaker than themselves. They choose to sit back and meditate or focus inwards instead of taking charge and keeping the weaker, directionless masses in line. They are the strong rancor alphas who sit back and do not care for their pack. Instead of hunting, they allow weaker, less qualified rancors to divide and fracture the pack or lead them to foolish endeavors. They don't cull the weak or push the pack to grow through adversity. They don't even hunt enough to feed themselves, so they grow thin and weak through hunger and lack of drive to improve. "It may not be popular, but I don't hate the Jedi as many here do. I would work with any who would advance my goals just as I would any Sith who does the same. In truth, I pity both sides. The Sith are too fractured and drunk on blood and the Jedi are too lazy and devoted to slavery to those who are weaker. I am not sure how this new Dark Lord will take things, but I dearly hope he is more rational and realizes that the Sith don't have to be mindless monsters only seeking blood and backstabbing. If he is able to wrangle them and control their urges and redirect their energy and power to something constructive, I would be happy to join. If they don't, I will seek my own path using my own means. I don't seek conflict with anyone, but I will fight any who opposes me."

When she finally had the strength, Qaela got up and joined her daughter at eating. Despite this being the Sith, she doubted the food was tainted. The Sith preferred a more direct, brutal way to deal with their enemies, like blowing up shipfulls of them or shoving a lightsaber up various painful parts of their foe's body. Considering the tastes of the Hutt who presided here, she shouldn't have been surprised when the food was excellent. She began feeling better once her stomach was full and she had a good cup of rich sweet wine. She noticed her daughter's fascination with the battle tiles with approval. Knowing history was always important, especially when this scene showed what an unified Sith could do instead of a fractured, split group all pursuing their own agendas. On that note, she noticed a lot of the Sith had left, including Ca'Aran, and wondered what they were up to. Right now, it wasn't of much concern: there were plenty of things she could do here in the meantime. "You see how strong the Sith can be," she said at last, "never forget it. The one who sired you was the most powerful of all living Sith, and yet he was only normal compared to those of the past. His strength is both a blessing and a curse, but only you can decide which one. Now that you are free of the curse, you have a choice before you. I may be your mother, but I will not force you like my own mother did. You may follow my path and learn how to mold the Force to your will, or you may learn the technical and combat skills of your father. I do not expect you to decide now, but only when you are ready. Until then, sit with me and let me tell you the things I was never able to so that you may make an informed decision." With the occasional cup of wine in between to keep her throat wet, Qaela spoke in great length about her past and life. She spoke of her harsh training as a girl on Dathomir and how it made her strong but hard and cold. She told of coming Coruscant, meeting the Sith, and how she became powerful in the Force but broken and beaten by her "allies." She spoke of meeting Ca'Aran and how she changed from viewing him as a simple tool for protection to a man she admired and loved. She spoke of her decisions: both good and bad, and how she suffered the consequences. She explained how she was unable to protect and care for her children and thus gave them to her Clan. She talked about how she was shot down on Coruscant battling Faust and how she survived in the Undercity until she was able to reunite with Ca'Aran. She described how much it broke her seeing her sons die and daughter suffer. She even told of how, while most Sith were not to be trusted, there were a few that weren't too bloodthirsty or prone to betrayal. She admitted her flaws and explained how she rectified some of them and accepted the pain of the repercussions of others. In the end, after a long time, she leaned back and fell into silence, letting Telperiën soak it in and decide her own response, if any.

There was an inevitability to death that was, from time to time, strangely comforting. While her body was deep within a coma, Qaela's conscience was experiencing a hyper alertness. The greatest cruelty of the curse the Nightsisters had placed on her daughter was that she was able to feel the most exquisite pain and anguish while being utterly unable to even cry out in pain. While the girl had only experienced that for a few minutes before her mother had interfered and lessened the effects somewhat, Qaela was not as fortunate. Her anguish went for hours. Worse, the spells she cast to draw the curse to her and contain its soul searing effects meant that she was utterly isolated here: none of the Force sensitives around her could sense what was going on within her. Time passed, things changed, and Qaela was stretched and molded anew in many ways. The woman learned many things and made many decisions in this time, much of which she would spend years sorting through. Time would reveal what changes she came upon as she battled to reclaim her soul. * * * * * After what seemed to be decades from the perspective of her soul, Qaela's violet eyes opened to see her daughter sitting next to her. She was no longer on the floor, someone had moved her to a couch which was at least more comfortable for her physical body. To her bemusement, despite the intense anguish she experienced, her body, after the first few seconds of absorbing the curse, had been utterly unaffected. Rather than being covered in sweat or bruised from thrashing around in pain, her body was cool and surprisingly well rested. She smiled up at Telperiën and said softly, "Hello, my sweet girl. Feeling any better?"

Seemingly no longer the center of attention, a good thing in her mind, Qaela faded to the edge of the hall to observe and calculate. The Sith here weren't going to kill her, at least not today, so she needed to figure out what her next step was. She did take some interest in the interactions of both her daughter and Raia as the latter attempted to undo the tangles of the curse that still lingered within her. That interest quickly turned to alarm and fascination as she felt the presence she hadn't felt in years, that of the great Lord Ar-Pharazon. Normally, connections with the dead were handled by the oldest crones in her Tribe, so beyond her spells over Bothawui, she never really had great amounts of experience handling them, but it didn't take long at all before she could tell this was going to be an issue. Somehow, Ar-Pharazon's spirit was clawing on the spirit of their daughter. She mused for a moment if this was a result in her tearing the veil between the living and dead to remove the core of the curse and that it had inadvertently attracted the Sith master to his own blood. That or being in this Sith haven and with so many other Sith present may have proven an irresistible magnet to him. That or he may have been hiding within her the entire time. She didn't know nor did she much care. What she did care about was the immediately hostile visions and emotions flooding the hall coming from both Ar-Pharazon and the Sith masters. It took just two heartbeats to realize why. Abomination! Ar-Pharazon was not just projecting, he was attempting to take full possession of her daughter turning her into an Abomination. Her horror was apparently matched by the other Sith who were taking action in their own way. The hostility they were projecting wasn't directed at the girl, but rather the spirit that was controlling her. Seeing Ca'Aran's stun bolts offer no effect, she knew that Ar-Pharazon wasn't simply a phantom, but had more than enough power to be a serious threat. She began forming a basic spell that would theoretically divide the spirit from the living, but before she could cast it, she felt the combined forces of the Sith masters building up. Whatever they were unleashing, here in their own temple, it was more powerful than anything she could wield alone. She dropped her spell and simply watched as the Sith did what they were aiming to do. When all was done, she felt Ar-Pharazon's essence absorbed into the crystal Raia once carried. There, it was contained, full of his malice and hatred for all that didn't worship him. Even then, she couldn't help but get a very unpleasant feeling deep in her gut. Though there was no emotional connection between him, three beings with half of his blood grew within her for months. A part of her soul was bound to be affected by such a man's power and the connection they did have. She stared at the crystal, wondering what the Sith were to do with it. For now, those concerns were secondary. Telperiën, now free of the Abomination, was in poor shape. Qaela rushed to her daughter, already whispering the words to a spell she had only vaguely considered using. For this time, for this small few moments, she had an opportunity to break through the remnants of the curse still trying to rewrap itself around the girl after the spirit of Ar-Pharazon broke free. For now, she could do something to end things. When she got to Telperiën, she placed her hand on her daughter's forehead and closed her own eyes. The curse was there, weakened, but present. Telperiën was too young, too weak, and too broken at this point to resist it, but perhaps she didn't have to. When in its stronger form, it was anchored too greatly to its host, but that host had also been possessed by Ar-Pharazon who was more than powerful enough to shatter it in life. Unleashed as he was by Raia, the curse was ripped asunder, but not completely eradicated. It took only a few seconds for her spell to work its purpose. Using their link and shared blood as mother and daughter, Qaela temporarily bonded her spirit with the girl and drew upon herself the curse. Pain immediately doubled her over and blinded her. She released the girl and collapsed to the ground as the full effect of the curse wrapped around her. Every cell within her body seemed aflame, every bit of malice poured over her, and for many seconds, Qaela felt what her daughter had felt on Dathomir. Despite its strength and malice, Qaela was not her young, innocent daughter. As guilt and pain flowed, her soul fought back. She had done terrible things and accepted the consequences. Her soul was black, true, but it was also stronger and more mature. She resisted the curse until it was retreating back into nothingness. The pain gnawed at her, but she wouldn't let it take her. Despite it all, she loved her daughter and Ca'Aran, enough that she would do whatever she could to keep them safe. She would stretch out her own hand and hack it off if it was what was necessary. She would not leave them alone in this Galaxy, not when she could do more to keep them safe. The curse weakened and faded, struck back by her own determination and stubbornness, a trait that had gotten her in trouble many times. She wouldn't let this curse beat her and so she beat it back. And back. And back some more. She beat the curse back until it was nothing but a speck, then she hammered it one more time until it was gone. When it was done, Qaela remained there on the ground, covered in sweat and in great amounts of pain leftover from her body's struggle. Telperiën was free of the last remnants of the curse the Nightsisters had placed on her and now of the spirit of Ar-Pharazon. She was far from doing well as she still had much physical damage and psychological trauma from what happened, but there was bacta and she had time to heal. There would be a price for Qaela to pay in getting this victory, but she would pay it gladly.

Rather than lashing out at her for her defiance, it seemed at least some of the Sith might even agree with her call to end the foolish infighting. At the very least, nobody had tried to kill her and that was good. After addressing Raynuk, Sheog turned his attention back to her. To her surprise and absolute fascination, the ashes of her former armor began to swirl and fashion themselves around her. Despite her initial alarm, there seemed to be no hostile intent from the Hutt, so she absorbed herself in seeing and sensing the usage of the Force that was at work. She knew enough of the occultic side of the Sith to know it was Krath work at its finest. Having grown up around spellcraft, she was quite familiar with how it felt and looked and this, though clearly different, wasn't completely alien to her. The remolding of the ash into a new material didn't seem to far different from how she could enchant and enhance seemingly soft materials like wood to be able to resist even a lightsaber or blaster bolt. Changing the matter in a way was extremely fascinating to her, something she knew those of her former Clan would have killed to know and wield. Apparently sensing her interest, the Krath generously extended an invitation to learn of his skills. She wasn't naive enough to not realize there was more going on here. He and Raynuk seemed to be bantering over Shadowlord, a rival Krath, and aligning herself with either would likely both boost that one's prestige and earn the ire of the other. She had absolutely no love for Shadowlord who had already enslaved her kind and made his hatred of her clear in their past meetings. Siding with the Hutt wouldn't change that at all and would gain an ally. Learning any skills would be quite useful at ensuring survival, as would making even more allies. "I initially came to the Sith as a friend," she replied, making sure to direct her words also at Raynuk. "I did what I could to help the Sith, namely betraying and leading Jedi Grandmaster Kitt to his death. My reward was an attempt on my life, and that wasn't the first time the Sith betrayed me and tried to kill me. I was driven away from the Sith by the Sith themselves trying to kill me and was forced to make unwanted alliances to survive. Some of my choices were very poor, I know, and I have corrected many flaws in my own self. "I came here hoping to make peace with the Sith. My old Clan betrayed me and were destroyed because of it. None survive to my knowledge. I want no strife with the Sith or with you, Lord Quietus. I come here seeking a new Clan: the Sith. The question I have is: will the Sith accept me, or will I once again fight for my life against those with whom I should be allies?"

Raynuk was one of the first to greet her in a surprisingly non-hostile manner. She bit back a comment on who tried to kill whom when he mentioned being agreeable. She had her share of hostility toward the man who was the second Sith to try to kill her, but figured it wouldn't be the best time to be snarky. "I come hoping to make peace with all of the Sith so we can better face our common enemies," she answered. Her violet eyes fell on Raia who she now recognized as the girl she helped get out of Nightsister imprisonment and who was also the one causing the Force storm back when she got Ca'Aran out of captivity. "I hope whatever advice I gave her helped her survive in the sometimes treacherous and dangerous Galaxy we live in." She nodded in acceptance at Raia's greetings. "For you, I am simply Qaela. We are from different sides of the same coin, alike in as much as we differ. I have learned much since meeting you last and was impressed at the power of your wrath on Dathomir. If ever you wish help in controlling that so it doesn't over take you as it did me, you need but ask." By this point, she had attracted the attention of one of the Sith she was actually most hoping to see. Though repulsive to the eyes, Sheog the Hutt was quite powerful with Sith magicks, something she definitely wanted to learn. Though, his own reaction to seeing her wasn't what she wanted. In honesty, she was surprised that he even remembered her children, much less was able to display the amount of seemingly genuine pain at the loss of her sons that he was. She was surprised when he elected to deny her use of the armor she was wearing. Without its magic, the armor crumbled and was possessed with a new magic that spoke for him. Without the armor holding it up, her belt and weapons fell to the floor and she was left in only a dark grey bodysuit. His actions immediately stirred indignation from her, so she responded to his accusation with the pain and anger she felt from the situation and loss. "Their lives were in danger where they were. Not from death, but from losing their freedom, their souls, and their command over their own lives. Slavery and submission are worse than death. I admit my choices were not always the wisest and that fear and desperation drove me to do things and make alliances with those I should not have, but the fault is not entirely my own. The Sith whom I sought as my tribe abandoned or sought to kill me me. Only Ca'Aran remained to help me remove them from the clutches of Clan Darksong. Had other Sith as powerful as you been there, they might all be alive now. As it is, at least we saved my daughter so that she has a chance to live strong and of her own design instead of as a mere pawn of those women. It is one more reason why the Sith need to unify and stop the infighting that happened in years past. I can only hope that this gathering allows the Sith to do just that so that we may get our revenge and take our place as the rightful rulers of this Galaxy."

Landing on the Sith planet was a rather intriguing thing. As one who embraced the Darkness, she could feel the very planet humming with its power and comforting coolness. She could appreciate how much time and effort went into making a planet like this and respected the heritage of the Sith who did it. Despite that wondrous feeling, she couldn't help but also be ill at ease considering how many Sith tried to kill her or harmed her. She knew better than to ever let her guard down here, not when so much corrupted Darkness swirled about and so many Sith were present. She could feel them, too: a much more focused concentration of malice and barely controlled passions (mostly of the homicidal kind) that grew stronger as their shuttle got closer to the temple or whatever they were heading to. She was along for the ride and hoped that Ca'Aran's reputation and influence would serve as a sufficient shield for her and her daughter. She wasn't here to start anything, but that didn't mean a single thing around some of these Sith. Of course, their hatred of them wasn't entirely unwarranted. She had antagonized them sufficiently at times to warrant a less than warm response, but not anything she thought deserved violence. But then, these were Sith and that came with the territory. Just in case, she was wearing the Krath imbued armor that Sheog the Hutt had enhanced for Ca'Aran on Coruscant. Its dark power seemed even more potent as they neared the homeworld of the source of its power. She also carried a lightsaber, a nasty little disruptor pistol, and a few of the Force imbued metal knives that could take a direct lightsaber strike without a scratch. Add to that the two last ditch thermal detonators and she felt that she could at least weather a Sith attack long enough for her daughter and Ca'Aran to get to safety. Once they landed, she followed Ca'Aran into the large hall where many Sith were gathered, some whom she even recognized. She even managed to keep her near horror contained to a simple wince at how Ca'Aran broadly had their names announced. He always was one for the dramatic. Keeping her hands free enough not to be threatening but close enough to her weapons just in case, she did little else. There was no point in intentionally antagonizing the Sith gathered here, especially not Raynuk, the one who tried to kill her in the past and who seemed in no good temper.

Qaela stood anxiously waiting for Ca'Aran to emerge from the cloning vault. She knew, intrinsically, that he had to have been cloned before after she killed him in a Force rage back on Dathomir, but she had never personally witnessed a reversion like this and wasn't entirely trusting that it worked. When his consciousness successfully merged into the clone and he woke up, she felt a tremendous sigh of relief. Telperiën was doing far better than before, but was still not what Qaela believed to be herself. Still, the girl had been raised as a Nightsister and was far from weak. She would recover, in time, though Qaela was leery about bringing the girl here to Korriban among all the Sith that were not known for being friendly toward her. Perhaps, with Sheog the Hutt here as a potential ally, they would not be molested. She hugged Ca'Aran and humored him with an exaggerated eye roll when he joked. "I would like to find some friendly Sith, we could use all the allies we can get. What are you plans here?" She didn't want to doubt Ca'Aran, but coming to Korriban was dangerous.

There were many reasons for a woman to love a man. He could be charming, he could be witty or funny, he could be dedicated to family, he could be wealthy or excessively appealing to the eye, or he could be kind and gentle. Qaela could hardly care less that the man she loved possessed those reasons. Instead, the largest reason why she loved Ca'Aran right now was because of his extreme proficiency when it came to ending the lives of other sentient beings. It wasn't long after she sent her message that she began to feel it: the souls of the recently (and violently) dead. Through her link with her man, she could feel them, and, with a bit of the darkest of Nightsister spells, she could use them. Locked in her room with Telperiën, she began to chant the words to spells she had only rarely seen performed. She had a grimoire in front of her that helped, but she didn't dare practice the silent Sith taught usage of the Force with something so tricky. The room began to grow darker as she began drawing in the many souls of those Bothans her love killed and using them to fuel the spell. Her chanting grew louder and sweat began to drip off her face as the Force began to hum throughout the small room. When the time was right, she began to direct the assembled energies toward her young daughter. The new spell was drawn into her daughter's soul, but from there, was immediately sucked in by the curse the Nightsisters placed on her. When her daughter was consumed by the darkness, Qaela undid her own spells holding back the curse and allowed it to do what it was meant to do unabated. Being extremely careful to control and guide the powers at play, she fed the curse all of the energy from the innocent souls Ca'Aran had sent to her, sating it and filling it to completion. With its dark purpose complete, the curse fizzled out and disappeared leaving the girl alive. As soon as the curse was lifted, Qaela drew back all of the dark energy she had used. It couldn't be just released without causing damage to this ship, so she contained it within her, intending on slowly bleeding it out over the next few days. Telperiën, though free of the curse, reacted as her mother suspected she would. Violent thrashing, confusion, and vomiting were reasonable responses to what her young body had been through. While Qaela was containing the remnant of the dark energies, her daughter managed to hurt herself, breaking her arm. As soon as she was able, Qaela grabbed a small vial from her collection and rushed to hold her daughter. "Why am I alive when they are dead?" her daughter asked pitifully. Qaela wiped some tears from Telperiën's cheeks and said quietly, "Because the Galaxy is cruel to the innocent and helpless. I am truly sorry they used you as a weapon, but they shall never do so again. Here," she said soothingly as she opened the vial and put it to the girl's mouth, "drink this, it will help." It took some gentle persuasion, but the girl did drink the sedative and drifted off to sleep--the first natural sleep she had had in a long time. Getting up and wiping her face off with a towel, Qaela summoned the ship's doctor to tend to her daughter's broken arm and other minor injuries. When he arrived, he was not alone, there was a midshipman who quickly (and with noted apprehension) told her of the Galactic Alliance fleet that had jumped into the system. Frowning at this news, Qaela rushed to the bridge to find Commander Krales getting in touch with Ca'Aran for orders. She assessed the situation and, still on quite the power buzz from the spells she had performed, had a particularly nasty idea. "Stall them, however you can. Negotiate, bargain, quibble, make excuses, strip down and moon them for all I care!" she said. "I need time, but not much. If it goes as planned, you all will live to free to fight another day." Grabbing her secure comm, she opened a link to Ca'Aran, "My love, our daughter is free of the curse, your effort was not in vain. I can attempt to rescue you and all of us may perish together, or I can use the Force to escape with the Marie. I will not abandon you again, so I leave the choice to you."

Qaela was exhausted. It seemed that every free moment she had since she and Ca'Aran returned to the Marie was spent using healing spells. Though she could do it, the process was exhausting and took a lot of her own energy. Ca'Aran's healing was fairly straightforward since he also had the benefit of his doctors and modern technology. What was going on to her daughter was not something Black Sun's doctors could treat. Telperiën's injuries were severe, but mostly psychological. The spells used against her were not designed to be survivable. If Qaela herself had been subjected to it, she doubted she would have survived and would definitely be in the same state that her daughter now was. The spells created a link between the girl and the afterlife, thus death itself. All attempts to sever that link were fraught with danger as she herself could be sucked in or she could end up killing her daughter. Everything she did proved pointless. There were times when she felt that she was making headway in unweaving the spells, but before anything permanent could be done, she wore herself out and collapsed in exhaustion. After days of trying and delving into the darkest reaches of Nightsister spellcraft and Sith lore she could find or knew, she felt that she knew the answer. She had heard of a way to "trick" the spell to absorbing the life of something else and leaving her daughter to recover. The problem was that the spell was something she heard her mother and a few other of the clan Sisters talking about as a theory exercise. None of them had actually done it. Qaela still had access to some of the Sith teachings she was allowed to take from the Sith Temple on Coruscant back when she was studying under Haephestus. Those proved quite interesting, but the approaches the Sith had towards dealing with death and the netherealm were quite different than what she was familiar with. It took some time to work out how to unify the two practices until she was confident that she could do what was needed. The problem now was that she needed something to sate the spell's need for life. She was vaguely aware that they had come to Bothawui and could figure that her love was not here to hand out candy (unless it was poisoned). She remembered Bothawui as a less than pleasant place and had no problem with asking what she was about to ask. The concept of sacrificing nameless creatures to save her daughter brought about no guilt. It was the way of nature for the strong to survive and the weak to serve them. If she and her allies were stronger, then so be it. Emerging from her old chambers where she had all but locked herself away with her daughter, she discovered that Ca'Aran had already gone. It wasn't difficult to acquire a secure, encrypted commlink from his men that wouldn't compromise whatever he was doing. "Ca'Aran, my love, I believe I have discovered how to save our daughter. I have always encouraged restraint as it is safer, but now I have a request for you: give me blood and death. I believe I can channel massive amounts of death into a way to break the spell entrapping her. Please, I beg of you, slaughter as many as possible and so that she might live."

As they marched into her tribe, Qaela had hoped that those who had not favored her exile would use the opportunity to rally to her defense. At first, it seemed that it might work, that they might not try to attack her. When she saw her children—much more grown than she had seen them last—her heart began to beat faster. It seemed an almost complete folly to hope that the Nightsong leadership just might hand her children over, but here they were. The real reason why they showed her her children became clear as they began chanting a spell. Instantly, her heart was beating so fast she thought it might burst from her chest as adrenaline and pure fear the likes of which she hadn't felt in years slammed into her. She had heard of this spell and even read a few lines of it, but she had never seen it actually used. Thinking as quickly as possible, she summoned her children as closely to her as she could and tried to form a protective shield that might negate the spell being cast. Whether she was simply not strong enough or that her enemies were too clever, she could feel her daughter be struck down in unimaginable pain by the spell. The spell clawed at the girl's mind and body until it was overwhelmed and she passed into unconscious oblivion. As cold as she could be, Qaela couldn't ignore the pain being inflicted on her daughter and allowed her concentration to be broken. It was a fatal move. Without her protection, there was nothing to protect the party. As soon as that happened, her clan struck out. Through her panic, she felt her sons die one by one in Ca'Aran's arms and felt pieces of her heart die with them. No stranger to pain, she had resisted and built up armor in herself against feeling anything she didn't want to feel. What she felt now was simply too much. She had never known that she cared that much, but losing her children was too great a pain for her to ignore. She had a choice to make and she hated herself for having to make it. She could save her daughter or the man she loved, but not both. In a split second, she made her choice and spoke a spell fueled by her own blood and hatred. Even as fire rained down from the skies as result of Ca'Aran's bombardment, her body, guided by the Force, became as the wind. Part of her energy renewed the shield which absorbed or deflected whatever threat, physical or energy, that she couldn't avoid. With her limp daughter in her arms, Qaela sprinted and dodged and all but flew away from the scene leaving everyone and everything behind to die. She was so immersed in the Force that she didn't need to rely on her body's reactions, a good thing since her eyes were too full of tears to see much beyond a blur anyway. When they were kilometers away, her energy failed her. Even if the Force was boundless, the flesh was not. Cradling her daughter's head in her lap, Qaela stayed in a thicket spending whatever energy she had left to undo the spell that afflicted her. * * * Days passed and her daughter did not wake. The spell had been unwoven and left her, but the damage to her body and mind was great. For all of her energy, Qaela was only able to halt the degradation and stabilize the girl. It wasn't optimal, but at least she was no longer sliding deeper into death. She had relocated them several times to remain safe. Some of those who had not been in the village had scoured the region looking for survivors and salvage and others not of the Nightsong Clan had given into curiosity and investigated. Not knowing who to trust, Qaela elected to keep the two of them hidden at all times. Food was not much of a problem: she had grown up here and knew what was edible and how to get food. What was a problem was that, as she was able to reflect more on what actually happened in her village, she slowly became more aware that a lot had changed here. She felt the deaths of many clans without remorse or sympathy. Ca'Aran's men were not the forgiving type, they would destroy whatever they could to avenge their fallen leader. But was he really fallen? As she replayed her memories, she began to realize that, though clouded by the loss of her two sons, she had not felt the part in her heart that was Ca'Aran die. Even more interestingly, she could occasionally feel his presence coming and going. As astonishing as it may seem, she had to come to the conclusion that he was still alive. She took her unconscious daughter through the woods constantly coming closer to where she felt Ca'Aran and knew that a fight was going to come. The only reason why he was still alive and still on this planet was if he had been hurt and captured. If he had been found by Black Sun, they would be long gone. Quietly, concealing both her body and presence, she came to the village where they were keeping Ca'Aran. She watched for some time trying to find a way to get in and rescue her lover. Before she could do that, there was a significant amount of activity that kicked up. Cautiously, and using the amazingly good tech in the helmet she was wearing, she was able to zoom in and see the stakes being erected. This wasn't good at all. She had weapons, true, but they would not be what was needed today. She needed the Force and to completely let loose against people whom she was truly tired of dealing with. These witches would not know what happened to them when she was finished. After making sure her daughter was secure tied up in a sturdy tree, she returned in time to feel a discordant presence in the Force. It wasn't a witch or Nightsister drawing upon the Force tonight, but one trained as a Sith as well. With a wicked smile, Qaela realized that she might have an ally in this situation. Not wishing to reveal herself just yet, Qaela began to quietly contribute to the storm being stirred up by the second "victim." Using the rapidly increasing Force storm as a lightning rod that drew even more of the Force, Qaela tapped into it and fed it until it was nearly out of control. When her own additional spells were ready, she ripped apart the veil concealing her presence and struck without mercy or remorse. Wind, lightning, and even the earth itself slammed into house after house in the village splintering wood and shattering stone. Anyone caught inside would no longer be in any condition to further interfere with her rescue attempt. Rage, fueled by the loss of her children, the betrayal of her people, and the overall shitty hand the Galaxy had dealt her, gave Qaela strength and purpose. Without a concern for being seen, she stormed into the village on a straight and brutal path to the man she loved. Some of the village's guards attempted to confront her as she approached. Their weapons deflected off of her armor and their feeble spells quickly withered against her fury. With two Sith practitioners summoning and drawing storms, the Force was almost literally humming as they fueled each other. There was no attempt at finesse, no use of a lightsaber, blaster, or knife, and absolutely no remorse as Qaela shredded flesh and sinew using nothing but the Force and her wrath. A rancor, possibly not knowing what to do in the storm, had the misfortune of stumbling upon her path and quickly succumbed to a spell that left dripping pieces of red, white, and blackish goo in her wake. She didn't care to single out any particular target, the only thing that mattered was Ca'Aran and getting him safely out of here. Outside of her initial devastating strike against the village, she didn't bother lashing out at anyone who didn't get in her way. As she approached the two stakes, she vaguely recognized the other woman who was set to burn next to her love. Flames were all around, but they were not controlled by nature. This woman was controlling them so Qaela wouldn't bother to do anything to put them out as long as they didn't threaten her or Ca'Aran. She also saw the tuk'atas unleashing havoc of their own. Knowing they were not native to Dathomir, she figured they belonged to the woman and also ignored them. Provided they didn't get in her way, she would do nothing to stop them from their slaughter. As she stalked closer and closer to her goal, she took her helmet off. She wanted to look into Ca'Aran's eyes without an HUD in her way. She had come back for him. She had left him for dead once, but somehow, she hoped he would understand that she had to save her last child. If he didn't, she would still save him and face his anger, but that didn't matter. As long as her daughter and lover were safe, it didn't matter what happened to her. Being cautious of the other Sith trained woman, she approached the stakes and, pushing aside any flames between them with her own powers, she stopped in front of Ca'Aran. A quick gesture of her fingers and his bonds snapped setting him free. "Come with me if you want to live," she said as she offered him her hand.

The Darksong Clan was no longer one of the larger of the Nightsister clans. Fighting with Black Sun several years ago cost them many of its members, but it was not without strength. Despite not having many spellcasters or slave warriors, they had something that made them the envy of all Nightsisters: three toddlers with a potent, strong connection to the Force that promised to reinvigorate the bloodlines of all Nightsisters. With only twenty-one capable spellcasters, it was vulnerable to raids from the other Nightsisters, but none would dare risk harming the precious toddlers in an attack, so all were forced to negotiate and maintain friendly relations with Darksong in hopes that one day, their spellcasters would have access to one of the two males to enhance their own bloodlines. The Clan elders, being angry with Qaela's killing of her mother, her assisting the Jedi, and sensing the danger of her Sith knowledge, decided that it was safer to exile her than risk her taking over the clan. Not everyone agreed with that move, especially among the younger women, but it was decided and enforced. Qaela, at the time, was in no condition to argue and was content to leave her children in the relative safety of her clan. Now, however, she was not so content. As she and Ca'Aran began hiking toward the Clan, she was careful to shield their presences with some of her Sith knowledge. It wouldn't do for the sentries to detect them just yet. She needed to devise a plan to get her children out without violence and the best way to do that was stealth. "We need to contact some among the Clan who may prove to be very useful allies," she explained as they walked. "I believe they can smuggle my children out of the village and will join me. It would be quite useful to have a small cadre of spellcasters as devoted bodyguards, don't you think?"

Even as she got into the enchanted armor Ca'Aran had gotten for her, Qaela began to wonder what sort of beast she had woken in the clone. Not that she was complaining, but he went from being rather standoffish and reserved to being quite enthusiastic in his carnal pursuits. It was impressive. She may have finally found a male who could keep up with her needs. The armor was slightly loose, whoever wore it before her was more muscular and not as lithe as she was. That wasn't too big of an issue. At some point, she would get some more padding to fill it out. She could feel all sorts of deliciously dark spells all but oozing from it. She was very intrigued and would definitely have to spend some time seeing if she could back engineer whatever spells were used so she could learn them. For now, it was probably the most powerful, protected suit of armor she had ever worn and she was grateful to Ca'Aran for getting it for her. "Yes, I am ready to confront my old clan. In the interest of not having any sort of hostage standoff, may I request that you take my lead down there? I don't want to run headlong into things and get them killed in the crossfire."

Qaela endured Ca'Aran's outburst with an arched eyebrow and a good deal of bemusement. When he was back with the armor—which she had to admit looked quite nice—she said in a light, amused voice, "Ca'Aran, don't think that just because I may love you and have I am an idiot'ed you multiple times last night that I will tolerate you insulting me consistently. Also, it would be quite the shame to damage your dashing body by throwing you around like a rag doll with the Force—unless, of course, that is something that you are into. I recommend that, for now, you get a good grip on the basics before we start exploring all the more exotic ways in which we can I am an idiot." She made sure to maintain a smile throughout just on the off chance he didn't catch the playfulness in her voice. After a moment, her tone became more serious, "As for my children, they are all treated as royalty. Such prized bloodlines and power that they have were the whole point of me leaving Dathomir in the first place. I accepted the exile because there was nothing more I could do without putting them at risk and, it was a good way to keep them safe in a rather dangerous time. Not only that, but, if you recall, I wasn't exactly the most stable, logical individual. They were more dangerous around me than anyone else, and you and I weren't on great terms either. I am definitely in favor of retrieving them, but not at the expense of the entire Clan. There were some sisters that didn't agree with my exile. They preferred to see me as the natural heir after I proved my strength against my mother. I will not waste potential allies when I can recruit them and turn them into apprentices and, ultimately, worthy guardians of my children. Besides, no matter how good your gunners or soldiers are, there is a chance that you will harm one of my children in any sort of battle. I would much rather get them to safety using my allies before we deal with the rest." She was more than amused at his desire to continue their previous I am an idiot'ing. Clearly, whatever sort of concoctions the Kaminoans cooked up for him when he was cloned included some superb stamina. She felt no need to complain as she pushed him back down on the bed and began stripping her jumpsuit off.

For the first time in a very long time, Qaela was truly happy. Ca'Aran wasn't the most experienced or skilled man she had been with, but he was the first that she actually cared anything about and that made all the difference. She had no doubt that she would train him to be one of the best lovers in time. She was quite happy with herself for having conquered his body, though she was more happy that they were together at last. She ship shuddered slightly and she suddenly could feel the familiarity of Dathomir through the Force. Curious, it was as though he read her mind about where to go. Maybe he hadn't abandoned the Force as much as she thought. She was more than content to stay in bed and watch him as he dressed himself. If anything, the last few years had left him more lean and hardened and it was a delight to view him. Though, as with all good things, her show came to an end and it was her turn to dress. Home beckoned and she needed to prepare for it. "I am glad you are not angry with me," she said softly, almost tenderly. "I was not myself when I struck you down. Now, I am in more control and not as foolish." She got out of bed and began putting on a very functional deep grey form fitting jumpsuit that both showed off her lithe figure and gave her superior range of motion should battle be needed. "My children are here, in the care of my old Clan Darksong. I delivered them for safekeeping and to fulfill my duty. Unfortunately, I was exiled for saving the Jedi I was with at the time. Not all supported my exile, but those that did were the majority and forced their way. At the time, I could not do anything about it, but I believe it is time to reclaim them. I do believe your armor will come in handy for that, especially if it was enchanted by that rather intriguing and powerful Hutt."

Being on the Marie once more was oddly comforting. Qaela had pleasant memories of being here because it was one of the few places where she felt any degree of safety. With Jedi, Sith, or even her own kind, there was always a risk of betrayal. She had learned that very quickly after meeting the Sith. They would betray their own kind in a heartbeat without reason or purpose other than random impulse or personal whims. She understood eliminating threats, but the Sith killed even those who posed no threat. They even eliminated potentially valuable allies. It was a senselessness that made her reluctant to work with any of them. The Jedi, well, they were natural enemies in and of themselves. While they may not seek to kill her, they did seek to thwart her and inhibit her in other ways. Imprisonment was always a risk, too, though she had been fortunate enough to avoid that through a mixture of wit, proven value, and fortune. At least with them, she knew they wouldn't just off and kill her for no reason. Now, her own people, the Nightsisters, they were a totally different story. Though they were usually smart enough not to kill rivals and thus weaken the Clan, that made them no less dangerous. They contrived, plotted, and sabotaged their rivals. They fed her to the wolves of this Galaxy expecting her to die. When she didn't, they took her very hard earned rewards from her and cast her out because she had become too powerful. They stole her children and exiled her: something that is altogether unacceptable. Delta—Ca'Aran—was a different story. He had always been kind, always been loyal, and, in many ways, an equal. It felt strange to her to view a male as an equal, but he was more than just a male: he was a man. He had watched out for her even though it came at great cost and effort to him. More importantly, he had made her feel safe, something nobody had done before. The hardest part of being separated during Faust's madness was being away from him, not knowing if he would ever find his love for her again. She had been so foolish, so stupid to have ignored and used it in the past. She knew that now, and would never repeat that process again. With him, she was able to let the multitude of masks and disguises she had built up over her life fall away. She could be herself and didn't have to hide her feelings or purposes from him. Now, she had grown, mastered her emotions and powers, and would marshal her allies to retake her children and get the family she deserved. Her Clan had made a terrible mistake in taking her children and exiling her. Before, she wasn't powerful enough to take them all on, but now, with Ca'Aran and his men, she would reclaim her children and bring them with their father into safety once and for all. That wasn't all she wanted, though. She wanted her children, but she also wanted a true partner. She was tired of being on her own. It was time for her to make a true, equal partner and she believed that Ca'Aran fit that. So far, she had resisted consummating their relationship in the physical sense due to various excuses. There had been a lack of trust, not wanting to risk losing an ally, the danger or constant combat they were in, her pregnancy, or their separation that had kept them apart. No more, she knew he would come to her tonight and could sense that this was the best chance to get what she had longed for these last several years. Upon returning to her chambers and briefly reacquainting herself with the various treasures, weapons, and potions she had left behind, she took to the refresher. Despite being a ship, Ca'Aran spared no expense when it came to providing plenty of water for bathing in luxury. She appreciated that now as it was a treat she hadn't had enough of living in the Undercity and healing up. She made good use of these luxuries to make as good of a presentation of herself as possible for Ca'Aran when he came to her. When she was ready, she put on a fresh black dress she had stored her previously and waited for him to come to her. When she could feel him approaching, she smiled and took a deep breath to ready herself. She could sense his nervousness and uncertainty, but would deal with that at another time. To her slight bemusement, he actually ran into her door. With a simple gesture and an unspoken spell, she pressed the door trigger with the Force and let him in. "Hey babe wanna kith?" he said in an almost charmingly nervous and uncomfortable manner. She smiled as she walked up to him. A simple beckoning gesture of her hands pulled him into her room so the door could close. The champagne in his hands would be nice, but after they had had their way with each other. "Oh," she said seductively, "I would like to do far more than that, my love." She kissed him, but his armor stopped her from further exploring his muscular, delightfully scarred body. After a short eternity, she stepped back and appraised him. "I think we need to fix a few things. . ." She snapped her fingers and all the seals and catches of Ca'Aran's armor released and began to fall off of his body. She bit her lower lip as she saw him in his bodysuit. "There, I like that a bit more. Come here," she said softly as she led him to her bed. Then, in order to placate Alex, one of the mighty god like entities that seemed to control the universe, all of their actions over the next couple of hours faded into the dark.

"I will follow you to whatever end Qaela, you know that," Ca'Aran said. Qaela hadn't known it, not after meeting him on Coruscant. Those words gave her hope, hope almost enough to drag him away and live as far from hostilities as possible. If she thought that either could escape what Faust was up to, she might have done just that. He needed to be stopped and everyone knew it. She didn't care one lick about the number of people who died, but she did care about what the repercussions of such misuse of the Force would be. "Good to have you aboard," she said with relief on her voice. "If Faust is really here, it is going to be one serious fight and we will need all we can get." She left him to the business of coordinating his own forces while she readied her ship. When it was powered up and the engines hot, she took off and meet with the Black Sun fleet. As soon as her navicomputer calculated the route, she pulled the lever and sent them into hyperspace.

Whatever message Starlisk picked up, it must have been serious because he quickly scrambled away for his shuttle without waiting for the others. It was a good thing, Qaela decided. It seemed he picked up something serious and the uncertainty was gone. They had spent too long flailing blindly, now they were to hopefully take action. She looked over to Ca'Aran. "We may find use for your armies. My ship is open to you if you wish to make the journey to Coruscant with me. If not, I will fall in behind your forces." She gave him an almost coy smile and turned to go back to her ship. The two vials she had laboriously crafted could wait, especially if this was Faust's final move. She couldn't figure any other reason for Starlisk rushing off to Coruscant other than that Faust was there and she couldn't see any other reason for Faust to be there unless this was his final move. She moved quickly to her ship, but not so quickly that Ca'Aran couldn't catch up. It would take a little time to warm up the engines after such long inactivity. Once they were ready, she would take off and join Starlisk. The ship she had wasn't a warship, but it would get her where she needed and with a more helpful arsenal than she had possessed in her small satchel of things brought from Dathomir.

Qaela eyed Starlisk for a few seconds before slowly saying, "I was not the most powerful in that area, but I am not without knowledge. If you can provide me with a decent quantity of the substance, I can see if I can't find something about it while we travel to this Iziz place." She hadn't heard of such a planet, but she hoped it wasn't one of those places where people blew themselves up or beheaded people for one crazy religion or another. She didn't tolerate such stupidity very well and it would be a shame to unleash her frustration on a crowd of them in front of the Jedi.

Qaela was surprised to see a young girl in a place such as this, but the guards didn't seem to pay her any heed. Her Force senses didn't pick up any threats or anything out of the ordinary from the girl, so she followed her. The two of them and their armed shadows eventually arrived at a massive data terminal station. She hadn't seen anything this large since being in the Sith Temple on Coruscant, but data wasn't her concern now. While Black Sun undoubtedly had many interesting secrets, it was less likely they had any knowledge she sought. That information was possibly lost when the Sith Temple fell, though perhaps someone still had those records backed up somewhere. If they did, she didn't have access to them and would have to do with the Nightsister grimoires she had recovered on board her ship. With those, at least, she would be able to come into complete mastery of many areas of the darker sides of the Force. When they reached the Jedi and Ca'Aran, Qaela waited patiently to see how they were doing. Now that she had her ship back and things were beginning to go her way, she was in a pretty good mood. There was some trepidation over how her recent spellcasting would work out, but she had the comfort of knowing a lot would be settled one way or another. Until then, she would wait to see if the Jedi found what they needed in the time she was gone.

After resting for a time, Qaela felt better. She got up, showered, and put on a simple black jumpsuit and hardened leather boots. When she was presentable, she went into the galley to address her grumbling stomach. Unfortunately, whatever fresh things she had there had long since expired. With a lip curled in disgust, she threw the fruits and vegetables into the incinerator and rummaged through the freezer and sealed foods in her pantry. There wasn't much that was tasty, but she had several high protein ration bars that would restore her strength without a problem. Taste was always a luxury to her, so she didn't mind the bland flavors. Once that was done, she went to the small armory and pulled out a blaster pistol, a single frag grenade, and a small thermal detonator. Almost everything she had was taken from various marks or people who had tried to kill her, but she was no Jedi and didn't mind using stolen stuff. With a smile, she gently took off something Ca'Aran had identified as a Morgukai cortosis staff. She enjoyed the small spear like staff with its multiple ways to kill and its defense against a lightsaber. It had been a long time since she had held it, but perhaps it was a good time to start once more. It was a lot easier to carry around than her full spear, plus it had the added benefit of being able to cut through things and discharge an electrical pulse. The last thing she grabbed was the two vials she had spent so much energy creating. When she was finally ready, she left her ship and started out to find the others. The guards didn't let her go anywhere unaccompanied, but they didn't seem to stop her. She wasn't sure how they would react if she went somewhere too sensitive, but she only wanted to find Starlisk, Ca'Aran, and the others to see what they had found. Even though her position was vastly better now than it had been just a few days ago, she wasn't going to abandon her search for Faust. She had sensed the danger he posed and wouldn't rest safely until he was destroyed.

Leaving the Jedi to do their Jedi thing by searching archives, Qaela walked eagerly toward her ship. None of the guards stopped her, but then they wouldn't without Ca'Aran's command. True to his previous word, it appeared that nobody had attempted to access it, though it was entirely possible that someone did, but covered their tracks. The Force would tell her if there was intrusion, but she would see to that later. As soon as she gained access to the ship, she quickly sealed it behind her for privacy's sake. It wouldn't stop even just a decent slicer, but it would give her time to react if anyone attempted to break in. She needed time and privacy for what she was about to do. Going to her quarters, she retrieved one of her many boxes of chemicals, talismans, and Force touched objects and began carefully rooting through it. She picked out a small vial consisting of the poison of a Dathomiri rock dragon, a jar of rancor blood, and a greyish-brown powder that was the ashes of a sacrificial boar. She replaced the hand carved wooden box on the shelf where she got it. From another box, this one metal and hermetically sealed, she pulled out a small piece of bandage red with blood. Lastly, she reverently pulled a small stone box from her top dresser drawer. Within the box was a browned finger bone wrapped in homespun wool. She walked to the small lobby and placed all five objects on the table. She retrieved a bowl, two fresh vials and the corks to seal them, and a large mortar and pestle before sitting down in front of them. She added a razor sharp knife from her weapons locker to the entire mixture and was then ready to begin. While Starlisk and Ads were busy studying through Black Sun's archives, she began chanting and conjuring the most ancient, most primitive elements of Nightsister spellcraft as her mother and the other Sisters had taught her. It required all of her effort, all of her skills, and all of her strength to summon the necessary powers for such a ritual. She had to allow the spell to consume her mind in order to bring forth the needed spells and rituals. It was not long before she was completely within a trance, entirely devoted to the spell at hand. No one person could ever remember such a complex spell alone, so her ancestors and Clan Sisters had worked together to each master a single part of it. They then combined their spell into a single ritual with each Sister performing their memorized part and then collecting the sum total into a Force imbued crystal. From then on, Sisters who were strong and daring enough could open their mind to it and "download" the spells subconsciously. From that point on, a less complex but still demanding spell could allow them access to that information and bring forth the spell in its entirety. The resulting spell began to take a life of its own as one part flowed into another, threatening to consume the participant and the minds of any around her if not carefully contained. While it was not on par with the legendary feats of the Jedi and Sith of old, it was the farthest she had ever taken this particular branch of Force usage and the effort began to strain her body. Sweat poured down her forehead and cheeks and her breath raggedly escaped her lips between chanting. Her arms quickly tired from the exertion of all of the gestures and the energy flowing from them into the mortar's bowl. The rancor blood was the first added, but the other ingredients followed at their appointed time. Unsummoned by fire or conventional means, the mixture began to heat up and simmer. The last thing Qaela did was to take the finger bone and knife into each hand. Beginning to utter the last cycle of the spell, she carefully shaved the tiniest amount of powder from the bone directly into the mixture on the table. After that, she placed the bone back into its woolen wrapping and returned both into the stone box that had held it. The knife, on the other hand, was not finished. She took the bloodied bandage and used the Force to draw out the particles of blood that had dried on it. The cells may have been long dead, but they would still work for her purpose. With the small particles of blood floating in the air in front of her, she took the knife and slit her left wrist adding a fine mist live, fresh blood into the swirling mass. The blood--both living and dead--became a cloud hovering just below the ceiling gathering ambient moisture and soaking up the Force created energy flowing from her. The next step the spell drove her to perform was to draw out a small amount of liquid from the mortar with the Force and direct it into each of the two vials she had brought at the start. Only a few hundred more lines of spellcraft after that and the spell was complete. The small cloud of blood was swirling furiously in a micro storm that was crackling with barely contained energy. In the final climax of the spell, Qaela gasped and released that energy and a two bolts of brilliantly vibrant red lightning erupted from the blood cloud. Each bolt of energy struck into one of the two vials, combining with the Force to change them according to the requirements of the spell. With all of its energy gone, the blood mist fell on top of Qaela and the table coating everything in red. The spell done, Qaela panted for air while struggling not to pass out. Performing these types of spells always drained her despite the power she attained from Ar-Pharazon, but this was something else. The magnitude of this spell was far beyond any of its type she had ever attempted, much less achieved. She may have wielded more raw power and strength when fighting on the fields of Dathomir against her mother's forces, but the subtle power of this sort of spellcraft was something else altogether. Wiping the fine layer of blood from her eyes, nose, and mouth, Qaela considered what her labor had resulted in. Two vials sat before her. One vial was a deep red, full of passion and vitality bordering on hunger. The other vial was a vibrant blue, its color and strength too powerful to be tainted by the minute amount of blood that had fallen within it. Carefully, she placed a cork over both and made sure they were tightly sealed. She waited there for quite some time regaining her strength and mental energy. When she was able, she got up and disposed of the remnants of the ingredients. Cleaning the fine mist of blood took a little more time and frustrated her to the point that she resorted to using the Force to lift up the blood particles and move them into the sink for disposal. When she was done, she unsealed her ship and went to her room to rest. The magnitude of her spell was likely to have drawn attention from any Force user nearby who was aware of his surroundings and not entirely engrossed in their work. If one of them wished to approach her, she would talk to them, but for the moment, she needed to rest a little before leaving her ship. ((Any Force sensitive in the area could detect what Qaela was doing and get a sense that she was drawing a lot of power. Her spell, while Nightsister, wasn't exactly super evil dark side, but neither was it really wholesome light side. During the spell, any Force user who approached would get a definite "don't f**k with this" vibe. I figure that this took place during the time it took Starlisk to search through data. Anyone who wants to approach her now may do so and will find her in her room sitting in a comfortable leather chair. She will also answer comms.))

((I guess we need to just post whenever we can to move this along. Some people may not have something to do and might not post because of it, so we can't wait for people until something more important comes along.)) "That they do," muttered Qaela in response to Ca'Aran's comment. She remained firm as his warriors began to form up for escort. She had possibly fought side by side with some of them against her mother's forces, though those same may have also seen her turn on their leader in blind rage. None were friends now and she wouldn't make the mistake of thinking them as such. Even Ca'Aran only at best fell into the category of "neutral" and it pained her to think it. Since encountering him, much of her venom had faded. She doubted that he shared sentiment and didn't much blame him. "I would like to go to my ship," she said. "There are some things there that would prove useful in fighting Faust should we ever catch up to them."

Qaela tried to hide a smirk at Ca'Aran's sleight against the Jedi. It really wasn't too diplomatic to be antagonizing them, but now that he was home, perhaps he felt more confident. As long as she stayed near him, they wouldn't be able to take her out with a large explosive. If they came for her directly, at least she would have the satisfaction of knowing she could probably take out several of them before going down herself. She would undoubtedly be defeated, but at least she would make them suffer for it. "Remember, my dear Ca'Aran," she said lightly, "these are supposed to be our allies, even if they are Jedi." She wasn't sure he cared at all about her, but just in case he did, she added, "They are as responsible as anyone for helping bring me back from the brink of insanity."