Darth Abyss
Eldritch
"Yes."
The answer that actually came to Abyss' mind was cut short once he took a closer look at the shapes of the blood around them. Only as the light unraveled more and more of the twisted runes that were painted on the floor he began to understand what kind of ritual had taken place there, not one of summoning, but one of fighting of what had been summoned. Under other circumstances he would've felt the need to mock those that attempted the spell for their amateurish execution of it, but even the possibility that it hadn't been their incompetence that kept it from working was enough to invoke fear within a being that had long forgotten what true, human fear felt like.
"This can not be ..."
With staggering steps the husk moved further to the center of the room, where an altar awaited them. Around it rested more corpses, all shrouded in dark robes, and none of them fitting in with the pattern that surrounded them. On the altar itself rested a ripped book, it pages red from the blood that had been spilled over them. Without spending another thought on his companion, Abyss reached for the tome and rapidly flicked through the pages, while incomprehensible rambling and mutters shrouded his metal shell.
"Those fools ... How ... Impossible ... It can not be, It can not be, It can not be."
The words began to repeat, now clearly the whispers of a madman. Suddenly the husk turned around, his hollow eyes quietly resting on the relic hunter, while collecting as much of the withered amulets, rings and pages he could find on the dead cultists. Even when a ring that carried the name of his grandfather crossed his sight he only stopped for a second. Their time wasn't running out, it had been gone the second they began their descent.
"We need to go. Now."
Passing by the woman he had hired with his bags filled to their limit, the Prophet only remained besides her for a few moments. He could already feel the spawns of dark magic coming to hunt them once more, and this time a small blaster wouldn't help them. They had walked into a trap that had been set up at least two generations ago, and their only way was to fight. From his left sleeve another lightsaber hilt jumped into his empty hand, offering the purple blade to [member="Alba Talatheen"].
"Take this, and try to cut anything but yourself or me."
The answer that actually came to Abyss' mind was cut short once he took a closer look at the shapes of the blood around them. Only as the light unraveled more and more of the twisted runes that were painted on the floor he began to understand what kind of ritual had taken place there, not one of summoning, but one of fighting of what had been summoned. Under other circumstances he would've felt the need to mock those that attempted the spell for their amateurish execution of it, but even the possibility that it hadn't been their incompetence that kept it from working was enough to invoke fear within a being that had long forgotten what true, human fear felt like.
"This can not be ..."
With staggering steps the husk moved further to the center of the room, where an altar awaited them. Around it rested more corpses, all shrouded in dark robes, and none of them fitting in with the pattern that surrounded them. On the altar itself rested a ripped book, it pages red from the blood that had been spilled over them. Without spending another thought on his companion, Abyss reached for the tome and rapidly flicked through the pages, while incomprehensible rambling and mutters shrouded his metal shell.
"Those fools ... How ... Impossible ... It can not be, It can not be, It can not be."
The words began to repeat, now clearly the whispers of a madman. Suddenly the husk turned around, his hollow eyes quietly resting on the relic hunter, while collecting as much of the withered amulets, rings and pages he could find on the dead cultists. Even when a ring that carried the name of his grandfather crossed his sight he only stopped for a second. Their time wasn't running out, it had been gone the second they began their descent.
"We need to go. Now."
Passing by the woman he had hired with his bags filled to their limit, the Prophet only remained besides her for a few moments. He could already feel the spawns of dark magic coming to hunt them once more, and this time a small blaster wouldn't help them. They had walked into a trap that had been set up at least two generations ago, and their only way was to fight. From his left sleeve another lightsaber hilt jumped into his empty hand, offering the purple blade to [member="Alba Talatheen"].
"Take this, and try to cut anything but yourself or me."