Serian Loria
In the shadows, at the fringe
@[member="Phoebe Verd"] @[member="Paega Anginous"] @[member="Alexandra Cinthra"] (I'm happy to have all three of you to rp with, hope you all are still interested.
The device had been set in a circular chamber inside the cave system. The first two hundred years had seen little change save the collection of cobwebs and dust. However fifty years later an earthquake collapsed the entrance to the cave and shifted things below ground, miraculously the tunnel systems leading to the chamber he slept it hadn’t been destroyed. However with the cave being gone and any markers that were to be used erased as well, the ones charged with finding him couldn’t. Records were kept, but in the upheaval it the galaxy it was lost and eventually his location and even his name passed from memory.
Over time the land settled again, the people living a mere six miles from where he lay totally unaware of what was buried. There was a rumor of buried treasure, guarded by an ancient sith spell, but no one really believed it. The mystery sometimes brought hunters, but they eventually lost interest when nothing panned out. His chamber was a myth, a thing children dreamed to find yet never succeeding. If one had the right Sense or probed with a powerful sensor, one might discover him, for his life force was still strong and steady. The power source for the pod was ironically connected to the power-source that ran the small town.
The first settlers in that area had been those who were to have awakened him, so they had built a spot to live and await to fulfill their duty. Without the knowledge, the true reason for why they came to be where they were was distorted. The map and instructions, sold off and cast in the ever expanding galaxy, passing from hand to hand as interest ebbed and flowed. None of the right people, people with the skills or tech, got a hold of it, but it eventually went on auction. A procurer of maps and antiques got a hold of it, putting it up for display. His hope was to make money off it, but only time would tell if anyone claimed it as their own.
The journal and the map were in a hard to grasp script, some effort to translate it had been made, along with notations of what languages were used to form the unusual writing. The map, was detailed, hand drawn and despite the ages, not badly aged. Whoever had made both the journal and map had paid precise attention to detail. The half translation came in a more recent journal, free, as the real profit would lay in the other items.
Oct. 4th. 25aby.
I’ve started this journal in the final stages of my plans so that those I charged with re-awakening me will not forget their duty. Should it come to naught and I languish in this relic longer than I wish, so be it, perhaps this will find its way into more capable hands.
My name is Serian Corsair Loria, follower of the Dark Path and weary individual of the Empire of the Sith. The reasons for which I have chosen my current state are both simple and many, I detest the state the Empire has fallen, I cannot devote my life in service any longer.
My goal is to sleep, to pass this age and return in the hopes that what I leave behind rots itself out and the ideals that I covet return or, should that not come to pass, the Empire dies. I would rather return to nothing than awaken to find it still in the state I hoped to leave behind.
From there the translation ends, a mere taste of what could be within. Sith relics were in demand since the fragmenting and the artifact dealer had plenty he could sell. Katros might not have powers, but he’d learned plenty from his grandfather who had been gifted. The aging sith had despaired when his hopes for his grandson had failed, his powerful bloodline withering. Katros had other plans for his family’s money, he turned it into a business supplying knowledge to the very individuals that had first lost it. Granted it was a bit of a risk, but then he didn’t care, he didn’t need power to amass knowledge and then charge deep for it.
The desperate will always fork up the coin and a man like him who could acquire what the desperate needed would never run out of income. He closed shop for the night, going home pleased with his newest acquisition.
The device had been set in a circular chamber inside the cave system. The first two hundred years had seen little change save the collection of cobwebs and dust. However fifty years later an earthquake collapsed the entrance to the cave and shifted things below ground, miraculously the tunnel systems leading to the chamber he slept it hadn’t been destroyed. However with the cave being gone and any markers that were to be used erased as well, the ones charged with finding him couldn’t. Records were kept, but in the upheaval it the galaxy it was lost and eventually his location and even his name passed from memory.
Over time the land settled again, the people living a mere six miles from where he lay totally unaware of what was buried. There was a rumor of buried treasure, guarded by an ancient sith spell, but no one really believed it. The mystery sometimes brought hunters, but they eventually lost interest when nothing panned out. His chamber was a myth, a thing children dreamed to find yet never succeeding. If one had the right Sense or probed with a powerful sensor, one might discover him, for his life force was still strong and steady. The power source for the pod was ironically connected to the power-source that ran the small town.
The first settlers in that area had been those who were to have awakened him, so they had built a spot to live and await to fulfill their duty. Without the knowledge, the true reason for why they came to be where they were was distorted. The map and instructions, sold off and cast in the ever expanding galaxy, passing from hand to hand as interest ebbed and flowed. None of the right people, people with the skills or tech, got a hold of it, but it eventually went on auction. A procurer of maps and antiques got a hold of it, putting it up for display. His hope was to make money off it, but only time would tell if anyone claimed it as their own.
The journal and the map were in a hard to grasp script, some effort to translate it had been made, along with notations of what languages were used to form the unusual writing. The map, was detailed, hand drawn and despite the ages, not badly aged. Whoever had made both the journal and map had paid precise attention to detail. The half translation came in a more recent journal, free, as the real profit would lay in the other items.
Oct. 4th. 25aby.
I’ve started this journal in the final stages of my plans so that those I charged with re-awakening me will not forget their duty. Should it come to naught and I languish in this relic longer than I wish, so be it, perhaps this will find its way into more capable hands.
My name is Serian Corsair Loria, follower of the Dark Path and weary individual of the Empire of the Sith. The reasons for which I have chosen my current state are both simple and many, I detest the state the Empire has fallen, I cannot devote my life in service any longer.
My goal is to sleep, to pass this age and return in the hopes that what I leave behind rots itself out and the ideals that I covet return or, should that not come to pass, the Empire dies. I would rather return to nothing than awaken to find it still in the state I hoped to leave behind.
From there the translation ends, a mere taste of what could be within. Sith relics were in demand since the fragmenting and the artifact dealer had plenty he could sell. Katros might not have powers, but he’d learned plenty from his grandfather who had been gifted. The aging sith had despaired when his hopes for his grandson had failed, his powerful bloodline withering. Katros had other plans for his family’s money, he turned it into a business supplying knowledge to the very individuals that had first lost it. Granted it was a bit of a risk, but then he didn’t care, he didn’t need power to amass knowledge and then charge deep for it.
The desperate will always fork up the coin and a man like him who could acquire what the desperate needed would never run out of income. He closed shop for the night, going home pleased with his newest acquisition.
