The Old Sith Trials

    Trill was relieved to hear that Malos understood every word of what she said. There was something to connect them and it was the language of the primitive Sith. This meant not only that she truly was on Korriban and that those with her was truly Sith themselves or someone in a position to know the language and be here. But this also meant that she couldn’t have gone too far into the future. Even with all these changes and vast differences, Trill was confident that she hadn’t been asleep more than maybe a hundred years.

    She didn’t get involved with much else of the conversation about the corpse and her purpose or whatever the hell they were saying. Trill had found out what was in the drawer and that was enough for her for the next few moments. Unlocking the laboratory and getting a good look inside would have been the real cake for her. She couldn’t imagine the things probably in there just by the fact that the place needed a lock. If something in there was of value to her or something that could be used to help the Empire, she would surely snag it.

    Getting the go ahead a few seconds later to go ahead and unlock the door to the previous room she had wanted to enter, Trill stepped past everyone before stepping out and making her way across the small hallway. Sliding the key from her pocket once more and fiddling around with it before gently guiding it into the keyhole, she turned and smiled when the door submitted to her command without issue. It was truly glorious to see such a lab in somewhat prime condition.

    The tables of chemicals and computer terminals were what took the focus of the Force Hound and she simply just couldn’t wait to indulge herself in whatever their treasures were. The artifacts of the table were of little interest to her since none seemed like anything that could be useful. However, that didn’t stop her from using the force to bring the vial to her. Whatever this liquid or substance was it had to be valuable to someone on this planet and if it turned out these Sith weren’t going to help her get back home, she could use the vial to bargain.

    Sliding the project into her pants pocket which also housed the key, Trill’s primary goal was the computer terminals. They had to hold some knowledge… and booting the nearest one to her was what was going to reveal that to her. Trill could truly be onto something and there was little that could actually stop her now. Definitely not these Sith that were with her.

Volcryn ultimately failed to suppress a surge of annoyance that the mission had become this tedious. First he had loosed a Terentatek and snuck into a Jedi Temple library, only to get discovered by a Jedi Padawan. Then he had walked right into a patch of quicksand. Then he had leapt into a hole in the ground leading down into a temple he had little intel on, practically asking to have his body crushed. Then he had been attacked by an age-old Sithspawn and nearly lost his lightsaber, along with his life. Then he’d carried this casketed old Jedi all the way up a steep slope, only to come back to the campsite and find that he had overlooked something as obvious as the footprints of an intruder. He should have known something like this would happen. Now that he thought of it he had probably sensed something else ever since they got out of that blasted temple; there was something he couldn’t quite put his finger on, but it was certainly there. He would have to find that out later. The immediate concern was the set of footprints leading into his tent. Invisibly thin strings still slithering around him, he drew his own lightsaber and followed Havok towards his tent.

It only took a second to get to the tent. The Light was clearly focused in the tent, and so it had to be snuffed out. It was almost certainly a Jedi, though that being said, there was no telling how much danger they might be in. A few safety measures were in order, so Volcryn closed his eyes. Almost before the sunlight had been blocked out, the very fabric of reality distorted. As if all existence had cracked like glass and folded in on itself, the Force itself was suppressed. In the same instance, as if he had predicted the move, Havok ripped the tent open, his lightsaber blazing into existence and burning through the gut of a Twi’lek in the same move. With that anticlimactic diversion out of the way, the Iktotchi seemed more caught up in how easy the danger had been to dispatch than the actual danger itself.
“Ah, Padawan, I see you made a friend! Too bad they weren’t able to free you in time before we arrived, eh?” He seemed to be on the verge of breaking into laughter. Volcryn meanwhile was at the verge of breaking into a massive groaning sigh. How much time was this going to take? Granted, if they were going to become immortal in a few hours, they didn’t have a tight timeframe, but this was just annoying. Not that Volcryn had any certainty the Murakami procedure would work anyway, which only made things more irritating. And Havok had to draw things out further.
“Too bad they’re dead!” He swung around to face Volcryn. “What do you think? Should we just kill this one too, or bring him back to Korriban for conversion after the ritual?” Volcryn was somewhat tempted to just let one of his knives put the Jedi out of his unavoidable misery, but that would likely be upsetting to his companion. Besides he did have a hypothesis of sorts that he wanted to verify. Before he could voice his thoughts though, Havok responded on his own.
“Yes, I think I will,” he chuckled.
“You will surely break faster than-” and that was where everything took a nosedive.

The tent was nearly thrown off the ground by a massive gust of wind, as was its lone inhabitant and his captors. It was a spaceship of course, a large one at that, landing in the forest only about three hundred meters away from the clearing. This might be trouble. Unless Havok was already aware of why this ship was here, the likelihood of this ship being Jedi, or simply hostile, was fairly significant. So the Assassin tapped the Inquisitor’s shoulder and whispered in a rush.
“Unless you know that ship, I suggest we take the Jedi and the ingredients and get out of here. Now.” Not waiting for an answer, he swept past Havok to get ahold of the bound Jedi.

TAG: Darth Dreadwar, darthferos

IC LEMMY AND HYPNOS
Prison cell, Ninushodojinyaut , Hyperspace


Lemmy grinned maliciously as the plasma blew past its target and into the bulkhead behind. If ya can't find a door, then make one. His grin quickly faltered as the blast continued through the adjacent room and punctured the next wall. And the next one. And then there was nothing. "Kark!" he shouted as the swirling vacuum sucked the air from the room, along with most everything else. Kriffin' space temple has walls thinner than a Twi'lek dancer. He tried to find something, anything to grasp onto to arrest his momentum and save him from being atomized. He saw Kint fire a cable into the wall and considered doing the same, but lacking the means to do so elected to scrape his hands against the floor and wall until his fingers caught the edge of the hole in the wall. His cannon tugged against its strap, nearly choking him with the force of its pull. He wasn't sure how he was going to get out of this one but he wasn't going to be shot into hyperspace unless it was a funeral procession.



In stark contrast to Lemmy's panic. Hypnos was calm as ever. While the hull being breached was far from ideal, it worked to their advantage in the moment. He casually noted the inky black ichor spewing from Persevus and instantly being tossed to the void. He could feel the nanovirus inside the Sith Lord taking root. He forced the reactor within his body to divert its exhaust towards the hole in the wall, negligibly slowing his momentum but importantly cooling his heated frame. He heard the Zabrak call his name through the Force, confirming a multitude of suspicions more than anything. In a split second, he formed a mental checklist of who needed to complete his task. Raspir: nonessential, potentially mandatory. Persevus: essential, potentially dead weight. Lemmy: likely nonessential, potential liability. Dranlor: unknown, potential liability. Much as he hated the idea of saving these two mouth-breathers who had interrupted his infiltration, he knew that they possessed knowledge he did not and that they were a potential stepping stone to the mirror. He would be able to dispose of them at a later date if necessary but he was certain another failure wouldn't be tolerated. 



In any case, the illusion of humanity was no longer something he had to keep up in their presence. He let the hologram fade, exposing his Zakuulan frame. As the body flew towards the opening, he extended his limbs, reaching out to grasp Raspir and Persevus with his hands, and throwing his feet into Lemmy and Kint with some force. As soon as he had established contact with all four, he activated the teleporter within him, taking the group back to their last location within the central computer of the pyramidal dreadnought. 

TAG Darth Dreadwar, gorzan
Ninushodojinyaut Tagset

IC: Jekyll/Hyde
Location: Tomb of Cognus

As the dathomirian went flying Hyde instinctively activated the putrid green lightsaber, her rage flowing out of her, the saber seemed to have an orange tinge to it now. She wouldn't notice this though. She flung a ball of fire behind the beast, hoping it would distract it as she jumped at it swinging the blade down at the arm it used to attack the dathomirian. Without the dominant arm it would be less of a threat, and easier to manage. What do you plan on doing? Jekyll asked to only be responded to harshly, her rage controlling her thoughts. Shut up and watch the show.

Hyde was angry, this beast was now in the way of her goal. She needed to gain information. She needed to gain power. Her goal was to kill the Emperor for lying to her, and this beast was in her way.

TAG: darthkain7,Volshe,
TAGSET: Tomb of Cognus

Moments after Malos had spoken, his three followers moved like lightning, immediately deciding what they wanted and what they wanted to do.
Trill was the fastest, despite her aged appearance. Without even wondering what the liquid in the vial was, she used the Force to bring in into her grasp and slide it into her pocket. Malos imagined the vial cracking in her pants, turning out to be some sort of acid that would eat through her leg like tissue paper. The image was enough to give him a pleasant smile as she then began to try and get the computer terminals booted up.
Trin seemed to watch Trill's speed with the same disbelief, then deciding to give the book a once-over. Flipping through the pages quickly would not result in much information, as each one would need to be thoroughly studied in order to learn its secrets. But while the text itself was not modern to today's standards - after all, it was written in the Ancient Sith tongue like most everything else here - there were annotations on the sides of the pages in Basic, written in red ink. Some would argue against what the book said, others would agree, but all offered insight that Trin would likely not receive via the text alone. Though she would not know it, as Trill had only read the note in the other room and not shown it, the handwriting was exactly the same.
Volacius was the most apprehensive in reaching for a prize, which was probably a wise decision given their current environment. Nearing the blade would not give him many clues on whether or not it was some cursed item, but feeling through the Force, even passively, would make it clear that it hummed with a certain energy. What the energy was, well, that would be hard to say without proper study. But Volacius would feel no sinister urges to grab hold of the dagger, so perhaps that was a good sign?
Trin, after grabbing hold of the book, moved to the terminals alongside Trill, saying, "I guess we had the same thought. I wonder what they were doing here?"
“Creating those abominations, I would imagine,” Volacius replied rather snarkily.
Malos chuckled, "I don't think making typical ol' zombies requires this much… science. Looks like whatever they were doing here was combining Sith magic and science. Probably had multiple projects going on; it's what I would do if I had this much time on my hands." He glanced down at his hands at the word, reminding himself of the deformed Vong arm he had attached to his body via his own mixing of biology and the dark side. It was a grueling ordeal, one he would not dare forget.
Trill and Trinaya would see that the terminals were still intact, though a thin layer of dust would cover the screens. Wires traveled along the walls, reaching their power source in the corner of the room. It was older tech, but it still checked out. No cracks or exterior damage; it appeared to simply be powered down. The lights here must have been connected to another power source, it seemed.
Malos had encountered one of these power boxes before in his time, and there was a particularly complex way to get them back online. It would require grit, tenacity, and an undeniable amount of intelligence to do successfully.

Or he could simply zap the damned thing.

Placing his right hand on the power box, he allowed a small surge of Force Lightning to flow into the box, lighting it up instantly and booting the terminals in one straight shot.
Immediately, multiple files would be visible on the screen, any of which could be clicked on and read at a moment's notice and all, thankfully, typed in Galactic Basic.

Cutting through their search would be the grating voice of Darth Malos. "Well, let's not waste anymore time. Let's see if these weirdos have a teenage boy locked in the basement."

TAGS: @lordjania, volacius, cliojayne

IC: Crewman Erik Corr
Location: Dantooine


“Well it’s a good thing I wanted to get in this speeder rather than that one.” Erik said to himself as he climbed into the other speeder. He figured the Blonde Sith Woman would explain to them what their mission was here but to his surprise she had just hopped into the first speeder with Erastus and drove away so instead he was just going to sit in this other speeder and wait for someone else that knew what was going on to tell him what he was doing here.


TAG: Darth Dreadwar Volshe @lordjania Darth Voidwalker

Tagset: Dantooine

Hangar, the Brigadier, approaching Dathomir

“Which of these forces should we deploy to the surface, ma'am?" he asked, his tone casual, as if speaking to a peon, or a server in a cantina. He inclined his head toward a mass of troops, most possessing humanoid auras but others of alien species. “And which ship shall we be taking down?”

What madness was this? Destroyers couldn’t simply land and deploy? That seemed horribly inefficient, and spoke a wealth of how much Illium did not know of the galaxy and its militant workings. Every ship was but a mass of grey metal that vibrates with its own frequency-- but possessed little else a Miraluka could attach sense of purpose. “Allow me to take a closer inspection upon these troops and ships, Captain. Perhaps you’ve noticed I don’t possess sight in the same manner as you. The questions you’ve asked I will need to judge a bit closer before I make the commands,” she said in an attempt to stall and admit she didn’t know a bloody thing about military warfare. She moved toward the armored troops and deliberately passed behind a large cargo freight container, and from there cast an Illusion. Her false form moving as if to inspect the troops, her true form crouching low under cover of the cargo and casting her senses out… until she found the Zabrak.

Startled by the visored Sith named Aurelia Illium crouching before her and feeling outward with the hands of a blind woman, Jephego flinched out of her reach. It was beginning to feel as if “panic” was her new resting heart rate, and she scooted as far back as she could without revealing her hiding place. And there was still that sickly aura clinging to this woman, the same strange feeling that had crippled Jephego earlier in the hallway. It turned her stomach and spun her head. Jephego had chalked up the feeling to sudden exhaustion and maybe a bit of carbonite sickness making a comeback, but… this felt different.

The Force isn’t real, she reminded herself, still shrinking away.

“Hey, Jephego,” Illium whispered. Jephego squeezed her eyes shut and leaned away. “If you could stow away into any of these ships… and I am guessing you have some experience in this… which ship would you choose to take you to the surface? Which one is swift but sufficiently weaponized? What other ships would you choose? Perhaps I can create a large enough distraction to get you onto the ship you choose… Our mission you might be interested in.” Illium prodded. She didn’t know what the woman’s story was, only that she felt like a smuggler of sorts, and she clearly knew something of ships to be able to make it as far as she had. Jephego eyed the woman before her with suspicion, still trying to put distance between herself and the Sith, her heart still thumping erratically in her chest. So this is how I’ll die, huh, Jephego thought. Murdered by a Sith witch behind some boxes. Typically this is the type of situation Jephego could talk her way out of with slippery promises and all that; but it felt like the proverbial loth-cat had her tongue.

But Illium was right-- Jephego was something of an ace when it came to anything piloted. Her racing heart skipped a beat. And this mission… Jephego couldn’t deny her own curiosity. Quickly, Jephego gave a cursory glance at the crafts she could see from their hidden vantage point and took stock. Barges, short- and long-range shuttles, bombers, triangular starfighters, some hideous-looking spherical starfighters, a dropship, and more were all lined up in the hangar. All the models were unfamiliar to her, being as 200 years had gone by-- but if there was one thing Jephego knew how to do, it was look at a ship and know exactly its capabilities. She was already taking a count of turbolasers and gauging cargo capacity when the Sith woman spoke again.

“Our mission is in essence quite a glorious heist. Witches and queens to kill, glory and riches beyond the gold I can hear clicking about your body. Are you interested?”

At the mention of her gold accessories, Jephego instinctually grabbed at her adorned braids and the gold chains around her neck. Her bangles jangled and shook as she did, and she winced at the sudden noise. But this woman had gotten her full attention. Riches. Glory. More riches. Sounded like a bounty hunting gig that was right up Jephego’s alley. Leaning back towards the woman ever so slightly, Jephego locked her eyes on her visor. She lowered her voice, and spoke.

“How many credits you paying?”

The visible portion of Illium’s face winced and she ran her hand across her frayed dress. She didn’t have much, especially credits-- but she needed to tempt the Zabrak further. “It’s a two part mission… kill the witches of the Singing Mountain clan, and then seize the throne of Hapes. I am sure you know of Hapes. Far more than just gold to be plundered there. Rainbow gems. Weapons and relics far more advanced than what you see here. When we get there, you can have any of the treasure you desire. As far as credits… I am just a Sith acolyte fresh from Korriban, however if you want a down payment of sorts for your efforts in this heist I can offer you two things of minor value.”

Jephego sat back on her heels and folded her arms, quirking an invisible eyebrow. No creds up front, no deal, she thought to herself. The offer of all the treasure she could ever desire was tempting to say the least, but Jephego needed the means to get away from this ship crawling with Sith now. Mission and rainbow gems be damned.

Illium first took a pouch of Kessel spice from her belt, laying out a generous portion of the spice for Jephego, but retaining just enough to have a few days’ supply for herself. Second, she offered her rapier hilt styled dark saber. It was a lovely weapon-- but she didn’t have much notable skill in the art of lightsaber dueling, and possessed plenty of other forms of weaponry. “Will this suffice?”

Jephego’s eyes had widened at the familiar sight and smell of spice. Now, that was something worth almost as much as credits… she breathed deeply, quietly reneging her promise to herself that only credits up front would seal the deal. A hit of spice would do her wonders right now.

“What do you say? If you are game… what ships would you recommend?”

Meanwhile, the illusory Illium had judged the Sith Knights to be her personal choice for which squadron to take. She felt the Force in them, while the feeling was varied within the squadron of stormtroopers. Regarding the Zabrak… she possessed a living aura, and was visual enough, but there was no vibration of the Force within her. It left her physical form uneasy… how could one live without the Force?

“Aurelia,” Jephego whispered, leaning forward again and laying her ring-laden hands, still smudged with dried blood, on the woman’s shoulders. Though she couldn’t see, a manic grin was plastered across Jephego’s tattooed face. “I think you and I are gonna get along just fine.” She gave Illium’s shoulders a friendly squeeze before plucking the spice and the fancy-looking hilt from her hands; she stashed the spice in her kiped satchel for later recreation, and clipped the odd rapier hilt to her sword belt, sharing the clip that her scimitar hung from. Then, Jephego grabbed Illium’s right hand and gave it a hearty shake, the barbell piercings on the back of Jephego’s hand flashing in the clinical lights of the hangar. “You have yourself a deal.” Jephego smirked.

“Now,” she continued, throwing an arm around Illium’s shoulders and turning their bodies to face towards where all the ships were waiting. She kept her voice low. “I see your spooky fake ghost person has chosen some troops. Nice trick, by the way-- is that a holo? Looks straight-up real.” Jephego eyed Illium’s Illusion up and down. “Looks like that takes the smaller shuttle off the table as an option, though, which is a karkin’ shame since that’s the shuttle with more firepower. So we’ll take the bigger of the two shuttles. Stick a few of your best pilots in a couple of those little starfighters-- I don’t know the models, they look too new for me-- and we’ll be golden. Keep things simple and on the down-low, you feel? Fly in, take care of the wetwork and the plundering, fly out. A milk run for types like me.”

“Excellent, sounds much better than my idea of just picking one of these metal contraptions and hoping it’s sufficient.” Illium spares a smile at Jephego. “You could call it a holo if you like… it’s a talent of mine.” It would be quite difficult to explain how she perceived the Universe to one such as Jephego. She felt as if Jephego would insist she needed a cane to sense the world.

Thoughtfully, Jephego touched her free hand to her chin. “Now, you said something about a distraction, something to give me time to get on board that shuttle so I can either stow away or pilot that fucker. What’s your gameplan?”

“As for my plan… there are small charges located in the freight were hiding behind. I believe they are possibly flash bombs. I can see though the metal of this crate and sense the energy of the charges. They aren’t entirely volatile-- meant to distract rather than utterly destroy-- which leads me to believe they are flash bombs, but you may wish to check. My sight isn’t always reliable when it comes to details. If my suspicions are correct, when I dispel my illusion and head back to Captain Jerk-ella, I’ll make a detour toward the shuttle and lay down a few. There will be a few seconds of scrambling, which you can seize… but you better shut your eyes before you run for the shuttle, as I hear eyes are sensitive to bright flashes of light. Stowaway… or even better see if you can steal armor or a pilot’s uniform. Not everyone here is human. I'll then direct the… band, as you called them, to the shuttle you chose.”

“I’m going to stop you right kriffin’ there,” Jephego said, patting Illium’s shoulder with the hand slung around her shoulders. “Flashbangs in a hangar like this isn’t a good idea. It’ll scramble everyone a smidge too much, especially if you’re wanting this mission of yours to begin smoothly. Captain Helmet will assume the shuttle, and perhaps the mission, has been compromised. And we don’t want that.” Jephego pulled her arm away from Illium, and pressed her hands together, her mind scrolling through a list of potential plans and all the ways they could go haywire. After a moment, she spoke again. “Here’s an idea,” Jephego began, gesturing with both hands, laying them flat and splaying her fingers in front of herself. “Just smuggle me on board. I’ll tuck myself into a crate-- maybe this one we’re behind-- and you’ll have it loaded up. Simple. Easy. Effective.” She mimed snapping her fingers with both hands.

Jephego liked this plan; it was familiar and tried and true. A classic gambit. And she wouldn't have to sacrifice style and wear some dowdy pilot's uniform.

"All you need to do, Aurelia, is keep Captain Mask preoccupied so he doesn't take notice. You got it?" Jephego rose from kneeling to a crouch, and turned to peek around the crates at Caracalla. She looked at Illium over her shoulder. "Remember. We want the larger shuttle, and only a few star fighters. Not anything more."

Illium’s visible portion of her face lit up, she quite liked how this woman thought. Illium was so used to distractions, illusion, and overly dramatic deceptions that she failed to sense that far more effective trickeries could be pulled off with much less effort. She was reminded how she’d attempted to take up bounty and smuggler work on Nar Shaddaa before frequenting the Red Sector… and failed miserably because she failed to notice the far more deceptive options right in front of her. She joked it was Miraluka blindness, but in truth she simply didn’t think like a smuggler, hunter, or assassin. Jephego had all of these qualities, and far more… "Well damn, that's a billion times easier than what I had in mind. Deal. You shall see me once we have landed.” She made to shake Jephego’s hand, and wondered if the piercings she heard clinking within her flesh were painful.

Jephego grasped Illium's hand and gave it a firm shake. Despite their painfully clear differences, and against her better judgment, she liked the Sith woman. Maybe she liked her for the spice, but… regardless, Jephego grinned and released Illium's hand.

Soon, Jephego would be away from a these Sith. And that was all that mattered.

Illium departed and crawled back towards the squadron of troops and drew her Illusion back to her. She waited for the auras of a few stormtroopers to cross her Illusion’s path, then dispelled the illusion and appeared to weave herself stepping past the Stormtroopers. She circled back to where the Captain was waiting.

“Captain, I am commanding a Squadron of those fine Sith Knights to escort us down to the surface. I wish to be escorted in the larger model of these shuttles, and please see your best pilots to… to the starfighters. Forgive me for not knowing the proper names. Miraluka tend to drop out of the space and naval academy, but the starfighters and larger shuttle will suffice.” She pointed to the one Jephego had pointed out to clarify as she lacked a name for the metal behemoth. “And furthermore these crates could be of need to us, especially if they contain plasma grenades, flash bombs, stasis mines and thermal detonators. I am ordering for each container of cargo freight to be brought aboard, and the speeder I have chosen.”

She inclined her head to her other companions, “Chunran, Dwomutsiqsa, and Vitani, I am taking the shuttle down planet side, unless you have a ship of your own do you wish to join me?”

Meanwhile, Jephego was busy searching the sides of the crates she remained crouching behind, feeling for a lid or loose panel. She found one-- a panel at the end of the biggest crate that opened up into a mostly-full container of-- Illium guessed it-- flashbang grenades. Jephego swore. These had better not go off. Reluctantly, she glanced right and left, saw that all witnesses were preoccupied, then shimmied into the crate, only opening the panel wide enough for her to slip in sideways. It was a tight fit, and Jephego’s lanky legs had to be folded up and tucked under her chin, but it was still likely the best plan she could come up with. Taking a deep breath, she pulled the panel shut behind herself.

Then, she waited.

Darth Cruor
Ruins of Ur, far side of Korriban, dawn

Crimson bolts of light cut across the darkness of the pre-dawn morning hitting the largest of the approaching shadows, Lord Cruor, numerous other spears of energy raced from the encampment towards his companion.  He paid little mind to the wisps of smoke, the burned holes in his robes, to the wellbeing of his companion. 

What did it matter to him?  His feet felt soil, his lungs tasted the air, his eyes saw the light of the rising sun.  He lived.  

His hand reached outward toward the small being who had raised a blaster, he could feel it, sense the life within.  Part of him yearned for such an existence, the simplicity of it, the ignorance.  The feeling was fleeting, who could really desire this when one could live beyond the limitations of mortality?  He had travelled Beyond Shadows, dwelled in the realm of Chaos, returned to life.  He knew the power of the Force, heard the secrets that it held, commanded it to serve his will.

The fragile creature who had dared to do harm to one such as he had courage, or was stupid, whichever was true he did not flee like the others.  Admirable, yet it would be his doom.  The Dark Lord called upon the Force to do his bidding and pulled the little being in the distance jerked forward suddenly, his feet left the ground and appeared to become a blur as he flew toward the open grip of Darth Cruor.  

Tag: Darth Dreadwar,dragonsith13


corinthia Just a tag for the globe. 

 

“No Sith Magic… Kata Magic. Called Kalechmy," spoke Trill, trying to likely correct Malos on what the term was.
"That's the term your people probably had for it," Malos shrugged. "What we call it doesn't change what it is."
By the time Darth Malos had finished speaking, Volacius and Trinaya appeared to be finished scanning the terminals for information. Volacius had immediately returned to the table, snatching the glowing dagger from its resting place. Malos smiled, though suppressed a laugh. It was amusing to see such a quick change of heart.
Trinaya, meanwhile, had been speaking to Trill about the vial she'd obtained. Seemed even with the terminals, they were not sure what the violet liquid was. Malos still held out for something explosive, though he would not get his hopes up.
“I guess let’s get going down to the basement," said Trin, storing the book bound in flesh. She wasn't squeamish, at least.
"Yes, let's," replied Malos, a certain feeling in the Force tugging at his chest. He could not properly describe it, but it felt like they were reaching the end of their journey. Karking finally.

The trip out of the library and down to the first floor was an uneventful one, though the air of oppression resumed its hold over the group once they left the top floor. A certain weight fell on their minds, resembling some odd concoction of anxiety and depression. They would feel eyes in the walls, staring into their souls. They would hear a voice in their minds, their own, letting them know how hopeless this affair was. How weak they were. How ill prepared they were.
This feeling would disappear once again when they rounded the corner and downed the flight of stairs leading below. The oppression would turn to utter despair.


There was no hope. There was only death to be found here.
Rationality, if any remained, would be their only weapon against the evil that lurked just beyond their vision. It was obviously a trick by the being in control of this temple. It would not grant them relief, but it would allow them to press forward.
Immediately ahead was a small cell with iron bars, and through them, despite the thick darkness all around, they would see a pair of undead men lingering, moaning softly as they stood helplessly in containment. What on earth could two zombies do to warrant jail and not a quick death?
To their right was an entrance to another room, a large one. Though they had no idea what lied beyond. There were no signs, and the sense of despair that hung over them like a thick cloud had blinded their vision in the Force.
But if they took a trip down the hallway adjacent to the stairway, they would come across three more jail cells. Two of them were empty. But one of them was not.
It was a young boy, no older than twelve years old, covered in dirt, scrapes, and bruises. He has messy dark hair and deep blue eyes that looked absolutely sapped of all hope. Malos recognized the little shit.
"Damian Kento!" he exclaimed. "Your rescuers have arrived!"
The boy turned his head to meet the eyes of who spoke. His vision was foggy, but he clearly saw four beings before him. The one in front was a Nagai, though without any tattoos like Darth Nihl. He wore a strange smile, and his left arm seemed terribly misshapen.
Then there was the woman of a species he had never seen in person, only in vague sketches of the Force Hounds in the Rakatan Empire. The only difference being that she seemed much older than the drawings depicted. How was she here?
Then there were two Sith acolytes that Damian remembered seeing before, though only in passing: the fierce, yellow-skinned Mirialan and the warm, place Zabrak. Though they felt much differently than he remembered. How long had he been here? Months? Years? He did not know.
All he could manage, with his strained vocal cords, were two words.

"Help me."

TAGS: @lordjania, cliojayne, volacius

IC: Shira A’dola
Gunninga Gap, Unknown Regions


Silmarin - Basic translations are included below.


Pleasant surprise coloured the air around Shilo as Shira focused on Gederp’s Sindarin report. She kept the small smile off of her face, pleased at how easily he spoke her native tongue. Scanning the trio he’d brought in, secured in chains, she felt an even mixture of disdain and curiosity. Although born in the outer regions, most of her studies had included the Known Regions, barely skirting over planets as far as Vrael or even Kamino, save for a brief mention in the history of the Clone Wars, and unfamiliar cultures had always fascinated her. Regret shadowed her inquisitive mind briefly, that she hadn’t the time to try and pry out information on any of these three. She knew a fair amount about the Erphae, as she was commonly mistaken for one of their species, but the other two, Entheos and ... the Nameless. She wrinkled her nose slightly upon revelation of the title, unimpressed. If she wished to keep her name hidden, that was her prerogative, but surely she could have imagined something better.

“Im tfam ï,” Shira replied with a faint smile, for surely they would try to escape back to their master. Gederp was absolutely right about that. “Gan etta ten se, te gad rafat rallé.” They’d lead them through this black peril, one way or another, but as bargaining chips? Her expression darkened as she regarded the captives with hostile pity. “Im watela etta Rhym i Rhand gran elama ta nira ï mandel rakata.”

A nod towards the shuttle door had the guards loading the trio and securing them as the rest filed after. She regretted the fact that her pupil would be staying behind, but there was nothing to be done about it; they couldn’t waste anymore time. An uneasy glance towards the planet offended her eyes with sickly green and a seemingly yawning smile from the oddly placed craters plaguing the planet’s surface. It was as though, if you looked too long, something would pull at your mind, deafening your peripheral, like the proverbial legends of enchanting sirens luring ancient sailors to their watery doom.

The shuttle stumbled harshly as the lights went dark and the engine switched off. Emergency lights lit up to compliment the wailing sirens warning of lost power. Shira felt the floor beneath her shudder as the planet’s gravity took hold, bringing their helpless vessel careening towards its surface. Alarmed, the Vraeling called upon her Darksight and the world splintered into thousands of possibilities. Grey pupils followed along the various threads swiftly as they narrowed down each possibility to the most likely outcome. Her stomach clenched tightly as none of the outcomes ended with the return of the shuttles power. Even more startling was the realisation that she could not see past the atmosphere below - all she could perceive was a cavernous black.

All you can control is what’s right in front of you! she told herself sternly. With a fierce mental push, she sent the trajectory calculations necessary for safe landing straight to Gederp’s mind, leaping into the co-pilot seat where Vlloth had been thrown from his seat by the turbulence. All she could do now was hope that cavern nor mountain stood in the path granted to her through the Force.


TAG: Darth Dreadwar, Sedriss Nathemus the Conqueror, @voidwalker, dwomutsiqsa, dragonsith13 



Translations:
Im tfam ï
"Undoubtedly."

Gan etta ten se, te gad rafat rallé. 
"But in order to escape with their lives, they must know safe paths."


Im watela etta Rhym i Rhand gran elama ta nira ï mandel rekata.

"I think the Cult of Rhand regards too little of life to consider bargaining for hostages." 

IC: Dynami
Tomb of Cognus

Dynami staggered back. Eyes searing, retinas clawing at its brain. Bright, bright, so bright. Its eyes were not accustomed to light quite yet, let alone the chemically induced vibrancy of the charge. It did not even remember what that was. All it registered was that horrible, horrible white light. Some sorcery it must be...

It could not think much. It screeched as the pain spiked in intensity then turned. A moment later it darted back toward the hall.

It could not summon an immediate protection, nor any attack, so fleeing seemed the wisest option. But just as quickly as the light came, it began to fade. Dynami’s eyes peeled open and it turned back. Mild confusion flooded its grey flesh, but it quickly realized where it was.

“Monster!” It cried, now abruptly running back as if it had been charmed through the Force to leaving - not of its own self preserving volition. It summoned some energy to its hand, feeling some familiarity. Warmth. A flush of warmth, flames licking up from the cracked skin. It glared up, palms forming a siphon for the fire cradled in its palms. “You will burn.”

It thrust its hands outwards, fire spurting towards the enemy they faced - intent not at all on the holocron, but on killing the beast with the torrent of flame.

TAG: darthkain7 , taciteoccultus
TAGSET: Tomb of Cognus