A Fire Beneath Frozen Peaks

[Puwio Acuza]

​

"Personal Log. Ziost. Day 13. Heavy snow, minor equipment malfunctions. Wish I had an engineer. Had to take shelter in the ship. I'm onto something, I know it. If it wasn't for the Force-cursed weather."

---​

"Personal Log. Ziost. Day 20. What passes for pleasant conditions around here. Broke through to a cave system, should speed things up. Found unknown object, but turned out to be frozen excrements from native species. Should not have brought it aboard the ship before taking samples."

---​

"Personal Log. Ziost. Day 27. Misty conditions. Disturbingly cold. Scaly feline-like thing disturbed me, hid in the ship until it left. Need to invest in some security droids. Starting to wonder if I made a mistake coming out here."

---​

"Personal Log. Ziost. Day 29, Part 1. Triumph, sweet triumph. That'll show those sleemos at the outpost. Breached a wall, found sculpted stone within. Old. Really old. Looks untouched, too. Time-worn mosaics of Ancient Sith make, I'm sure of it. History, here I come."

Pocketing the voice recorder, the Mirialan rubbed two well-insulated gloves together. Wouldn't it have been nice if the Sith of old had thought to install some heaters?

Making his way down the slope from the hole he had made with all the grace of a Hutt on stilts, the young man silently applauded himself for getting the goggles with the inbuilt flashlight from that shifty looking Rodian up at the station. So what if those jerks at the outposts thought it looked silly, they weren't the boss of him.

Wrenching himself away from a particularly fascinating depiction of a red-skinned warrior atop a war beast of some kind, he made his way deeper down into the... compound? Outpost? Tomb? Force, he hoped it was a tomb. They had a tendency to hold all kinds of snazzy artifacts. Or so he had heard. He'd be damned if he'd let some smug superior of his steal this find. No, he would be the first to search it, the first in... centuries? Millenia? Finally, things were going his way.

[member="Grond"]​

 

[Warmaster Nyâsh]

The Thronebreaker is breaching the atmosphere, the deck vibrating with the sounds and workings of the engine units. The heat of the fall through flames turns into whipping winds of ice and cold and the clouds open to grant a view on the surface. There are no cities nor even villages out here, it is basically in the middle of nowhere, just huge mountains covered in ice, snow and the freezing cold which has its grip on this planet. Not Hoth, nor Rhen Var, but damn, a few hundred thousand kilometers closer to the sun wouldn´t hurt anyone.

"We are approaching the location which Dredd gave to us, Mylord." The ship com-link. His pilot was a good man, working for him since three years now and steering him through many systems and dangers already.

"Any contacts?" The voice of Grond was echoing through the ship like the whisper of a thunderstorm.

A short moment later his pilot gave a response. "Yes, Mylord, a ... well, a ship of a miserable shape and status. But no life form inside or around."

"Proceed with the landing and set up our camp. I will take care of this meanwhile."

"As you wish Mylord."

The Courier-class was closing in to the surface, the landing gears extending from the hull, the spaceship landed with a sighing of gyros next to the other ship. Soon after the ramp opened and a few individuals leave, oving around and starting to work. One, a soldier, was actually inspecting the other ship and look if he could get into it. Yet, even while several people left the shuttle, one would ignore all but one of them. The figure between them was simply not ignorable.
Darth Grond was a huge figure, armored and looking like a titan forged in fire and steel, filling the air around him with a heat which appeared to slightly drive away the cold winds of the planet.

Grond was mustering the other ship and then the ground. The planet was unforgiving even in regards to tracks, but his improved vision allowed him to spot the smallest tracks and he started to follow them, approaching the mountain nearby. Soon he spots markings of excavation work, not very massive nor very professional, but still someone is or was here.

With clanking and cracking boots, breaking ice and small stone, the Darth continues his way ...

[member="Puwio Acuza"]​

 

[Puwio Acuza]

Continuing down a particularly well-preserved corridor, it was all he could do not to dance with joy. This was a find, a major find; hidden beneath ice and rock for Force knew how long. A figurative honest man on Nal Hutta, yet he had found it. Even better, the best was yet to come. This was a tomb all right, the iconography was conclusive. The tomb of a Sith, a warrior. Stroking a finger lightly across a scene depicting a towering warrior bringing a black mace down onto a cowering man's head, he turned a corner...

... he turned a corner, and his heart skipped a beat. Fantastic, absolutely fantastic. An elaborate hallway, leading to an exquisitely carved circular door, depicting what could only be scenes from the life of the one interred within. The entrance to the burial room... or the entrance to a burial section? He could only hope.

Threading lightly, reverently, he began to approach, eyes filled with wonder peaking through a pair of thick goggles. Drzzt. Letting out a shrill yelp that would have gotten him laughed out of the room had he been back at the Academy, the Mirialan jumped slightly, head swivelling back and forth. Had someone followed him? Had he triggered a trap? Had he...

Freezing in horror, he became aware of the metallic statues, no, droids, flanking the hall coming to life. Cold red light emitting from ancient sockets as chassis carved to resemble Sith Warriors of old slowly shuddered into motion.

Scrambling backwards, he rounded the corner he had come for just as the first crimson bolts slammed into the wall behind him. Nervous fingers tearing off one of his oversized gloves and pulling a delicate yet rusty-looking hold-out blaster from his overcoat, he pushed the hand outwards at an angle, aiming for where he hoped the droids converged and pressed the button... only to be met by an ineffectual fizzling. Damn cold, damn thrice-cursed cold.

Scrawny legs carrying him back to the next corner just as the first droid rounded the one he had previously occupied, he slammed his hand into the pistol, then bonked it against the wall. Begging the Force for mercy, he angled himself to face the advancing droids, body quivering in fear. As the first statuesque being came into sight, he pressed the trigger repeatedly, shivering fingers sending four out of six bolts flying wide. Two, however, struck cols steel. Cold steel that advanced, unimpeded. Why him, why always him?

Swearing unintelligibly, Puwio flung himself back behind cover, skittering down a particularly long corridor like the exact opposite of the Acolyte he had been supposed to be, panicked breath causing clouds of white smoke to emerge from his mouth, making it hard to see clearly through the thick transparisteel of his googles, the inbuilt flashlight bobbing up and down as he dashed away as quickly as his legs could carry him.

 

[Warmaster Nyâsh]

Giving the mounted Sith warrior only a very minor look, Grond continued his way. One does not start excavating and investigating before the area can be claimed to be safe. Moreover this was not his domain, it was his, all of it, whatever it was, but finding out what it was, that was not his job, nor did he desire it to be his job. He continued his path. One must be daring or absolutely desperate to come here with this poor vehicle of a ship and the seemingly minor tools.

In front of him opened a corridor. The huge human felt that this place was not, Angruin was as swiftly in his hand as a shadow which appeared on a wall as soon as a light was turned on. The corridor was long and leading into another hall or room - whatever. Reaching out with his senses he started to feel a very tiny aura in front. Either someone was hiding his true nature, or his guess with a desperate person wasn´t so wrong.

Without hesitation he continued his way through the corridor. Suddenly he heard the noise of a blaster being fired. Suddenly a light was running along the crossing in front of him, from right to left. His improved vision catched a picture of a normal grown individual in cold weather attire. Grond stood and watched. What was going on here? Waiting patiently for another moment he saw the individuals pursuers, their slow and stiff walk identified them as droids from afar before his zoom would catch the details.

Guardians of this tomb apparently. That was to be expected. At least by people of common sense. Darth Grond continued to walk down the corridor into the hall where two more corridors part, one where the runner was coming from and where he was running. He could hear the clankers in front of him and spotted the glimpse of a light in the distance and decided to follow them in an equal calm pace. There was no reason to hurry.

[member="Puwio Acuza"]​

 

[Puwio Acuza]

Chit. Chit. Chit. Slipping on an icy segment of the floor, Puwio tumbled forward, the motion saving his life as blasterfire shot above him. Heart hammering like the beat of a drummer overdosing on adrenaline stimulants, he dashed toward the very first corridor that he hoped would take him back. All he needed was a bit of luck. Force knew he deserved it.

Running past the other opening, completely unaware of the massive figure watching from therein, he followed his haphazardly plotted route. Temporarily clear of the droids' line of fire, he slowed down slightly, though only enough to avoid tripping again. The last thing he needed now was to break a leg like on Yavin IV.

Reaching a large, circular chamber, he swore profusely. This was new, and right now, new was bad. Very, very bad. Quickly wiping off the fog from his goggles with his bare hand, his gaze fell on the one passage in the room other than the one he had come from. A passage blocked by a very solid looking door.

Groaning audibly, the Mirialan gave the room another look-over. It held statues - stone ones, for once - and some fascinating art. Forcing his limbs into motion, forcing himself to push back the looming dread that threatened to render him completely helpless, he ran over to the biggest statue in the room, hiding behind it. Pulling a single hand-held excavation charge form his coat, he closed his eyes, trying to steady his frantic breathing.

 

[Warmaster Nyâsh]

The droids were firing again, he was roughly two dozen meters behind them. With a swift gesture his vision changed and he zoomed into the corridor and past the supposed tomb guardians, spotting a figure running into the room or hall at the end of the corridor. There was nobody else, so he was alone. A single tomb raider running away from a handful of droids. Fascinating turn of events.

Grond moved on, Angruin in his hand but still in the pace with the droids, simply making larger steps than they did and slowly catching up. The eight droids were now a few meters before moving into the other room. Clanking their way forward the droids moved on, but they was another clanking, a cracking, accompanying and soon overshadowing their sounds. Their sensors would pick it.

Slowly running, jogging, Darth Grond was charging at those metal figures. It was an intimidating sound. Something between a heavy tracked tank moving and the sound of steel swords clashing against each other. The cape slightly moving in the wind he was bringing on it, the lightsaber igniting in his hand, ready to exterminate those miserable artificial intelligences.

Beneath his helmet grinning a satisfying smile to finally get a chance to fight again, the Sith was moving between the first two droids which by now turned around and fired at him. Simply slicing one of them into two and smashing the other one with his hand against the nearest wall, supported by some Force usage, he continues to press forward.

Blaster bolts aimed at him are mainly blocked by his swirling blade and deflected or glance off when hitting his armor. He feels every hit but does not really care about them, possible damage can be repaired. One of the deflected shots actually hits the torso of another droid, destroying it in the same moment when Grond is cutting two more down with a long slash.

The sound of rattling steel, a lightsaber in use and several blasters firing is droning through the anicent tomb halls. Grond is barely breaking a sweat, his is pulse calm even with his eagerness for the fight. There is the simple joy about the fight and the focus to finish it ...

[member="Puwio Acuza"]​

 

[Puwio Acuza]

Cowering behind the statue, Puwio could see no way out but to hope that he could somehow take out all the droids... without also collapsing the tunnel that was his only means of escape. Unless, that was, he could somehow safely blow open the door at the other side of the room. A door which, with his luck, could simply lead to more of those accursed droids.

No, he would have to hope that the droids weren't equipped with proper sensors. He would have to hope that they would all enter the room, allowing him to escape before blowing the passage behind him. Or, for that matter, simply making a run for the ship. They might be though, but they weren't very fast.

Heart still beating furiously, pupils dilated with fear, he heard their approach, felt the synchronised march in his very bones, or so it felt. Perhaps it was simply a symptom of his panicked state.

As the first black steel foot crossed the threshold, he held his breath, trying his best to remain unnoticed. Even as a sudden ruckus - hidden from his eyes by the walls - exploded from behind the group, he remained where he was, panicked mind failing to understand what could possibly be going on.

Then, as quickly as it had started, it was over. The sizzling of a deflected blaster bolt - far stronger than his puny hold-out blaster - and the familiar sound of a lightsaber striking metal ending the final pair. Smoke rising from sundered automatons, sullen red glow illuminating the passage, a figure came into view. Who was still unknown, but what? What was obvious.

Taking a moment to stagger out from behind the statue, gloved hand clutching his ungloved one in a feeble attempt at making the remnants of his fearful quivering less obvious to someone who would already be predisposed to feel nothing for contempt for him, the Mirialan managed a vaguely acceptable bow. "My, err, my Lord. I hadn't... I didn't know that... I mean, thank you."

 

[Warmaster Nyâsh]

The humming blade in his hand, it was lightening the room in a dark red tone. Behind him were the destroyed parts of the droids, the cuts still glowing and slightly smoking in the corridor. With the bare saber in his hands he was standing at the entrance of the hall, he could be one of the statues of the ancient Sith, unmoved, like he was carved in stone. Only the living was the weapon.

His high, dreadful helmet facing the figure which just appeared behind a statue. His lences are black and empty, soulless, dead eyes.

Grond was not even warmed from this metal slaughter. Finally the tall man could see who the ... acheologist was. By any rate and Grond had seen some miserable adventurers, this one appeared to be even less impressive. Cheap clothes, no lightsaber, no proper equipment and low quality equipment, not even mentioning the ship. Who was this creature? This ... Mirialan. He noticed the greenskin. It could be worse.

With his deep, gravelly voice, distoreted by the systems of his helmet the Sith lord spoke: "Who are you?"

[member="Puwio Acuza"]​

 

[Puwio Acuza]

Doing his best to avoid looking too deeply into those cold, black lenses, Puwio nervously rubbed the bare skin of his right hand. After taking a moment to reassure himself that he was, indeed, still alive, he coughed up an answer that he knew would invoke nothing but contempt. It usually did.

"Puwio Acuza. My Lord. I'm with - well, part of - the Sith-Imperial Service Sector... Expeditionary Division. Err, obviously. Sorry."

Just like that, that implacable-looking figure would know of his failure. He didn't know whether to hope it had heard of his much more successful sister or not. If it had, it might be less likely to do to him what it had done to those droids, or it might make him look even worse, at least in comparison.

Maybe he could crawl into a hole somewhere, wait until it left. Wouldn't that be nice?

 

[Warmaster Nyâsh]

Grond was mustering this individual while listening to his presentation. Can´t this one speak in a while sentence without any breaks or stuttering? He was Force sensitive, like, not noteworthy and not powerful, but he had a connection. Is the Expeditionary Division on a niveau to recruit the lowest academy scum already? Considering the thoughts for a moment he got to a more interesting thought.

"For who are you working? Who ordered you to get here?"

Not sensing any danger here anymore, especially not by this boy, he disignited his lightsaber, but kept it in his hand, switiching to a neutral and relaxed stance, somehow still looking like a guardian of stone from this tomb.

 

[Puwio Acuza]

It made him uncomfortable, the way he couldn't see its face. Couldn't tell it's gender or even its species. Hell, he couldn't even be sure it was a humanoid, in there. Maybe it was one of those abominations some Sith Alchemists had been known to breed. They could be force sensitive, couldn't they? Force, he hoped it wasn't anything like that.

Relaxing visibly as the lightsaber was finally shut down, a stray thought popped into his head. He wasn't usually this scared of Sith, was he? It was the tomb, had to be. The atmosphere. The way he'd almost... almost died.

"I'm, err, I'm assigned to Dr. ve Tac. My Lord. I came here on my own, though." Wild eyes flickering briefly toward one of the elaborate statues in the room, he continued in a hurried tone. "I knew there was something here. Had to be. The evidence was all there, but they refused to... err. Sorry. You probably didn't want... sorry."

 

[Warmaster Nyâsh]

The answer did not satisfy him. Either this was some game of a sadistic individual who wanted to kill this miserable creature or this boy was seriously not very intelligent. Foolish and daring would, if not countered by the usual fate, become serious dangers to stability and order if not kept in place. If this was a bad joke of Mohr to send some amateur here with this story to annoy Grond, then he wouldn´t be amused.

This tomb seemed too important to let it fall into the hands of someone else than himself. He wouldn´t allow this greenskin to take it from him, or anyone else. He was mustering the individual for another moment and decided not to do anything about him.

"Don´t get in our way."

[member="Puwio Acuza"]​

 

[Puwio Acuza]

Implacable and unfeeling, that's how it looked. The helmet. Who knew what it was thinking, how it was reacting. All he could do was hope that... chit.

Chuckling nervously, which probably didn't help, his eyes flickered back and forth, still refusing to look directly at where he assumed its eyes to be.

"Err... I won't. My Lord. You won't even notice I'm here." Gaze turning, if at all possible, even more nervous, he kept going. "I'll just... I'll just scan some things. That's all. Take some samples. Maybe... maybe bring some finds back to the Service." Biting his lips slightly, he pushed out another snivelling sentence. "Nothing someone like you would be interested in. My Lord."

[member="Grond"]​

 

[Warmaster Nyâsh]

[member="Puwio Acuza"]

Can this one not speak a sentence without breaking or stutter? Grond doubted that this was an official order and that anyone would be so stupid to send this Miralan here for excavation. Chuckling? The tall Sith started to think that this one was a brilliant actor. The thought only held for a second. This boy was nearly pissing himself, just because of Grond, not to mention how he ran away from these droids.

The Service-Sector must be desperate to send him. Considering the options for a moment, he decided not to let this fool dwell here alone and without guard or rather - without job which helped Grond´s cause.

"You will follow me. If you want to stay, you will do as I tell you or I will kill you. Otherwise you are free to leave. Understood?"

[member="Puwio Acuza"]​

 

[Puwio Acuza]

This was not how things were supposed to go. He was supposed to go out here - prove them wrong. He'd never get much respect, given his failure as an Acolyte, but he could have had some. He could still have some, if only he could just find some way to keep this... this... this beast from taking all the credit.

"Err, yes, my Lord. Understood. I'll... I'll be right behind you."

Surely his superiors and colleagues would understand. They'd know, they'd know that this brute couldn't possibly have found anything on his own... right?

[member="Grond"]​