Public Beneath the Dirt

[Amos]

"Loyalty earned in battle outlasts any oath sworn in a throne room."
-Darth Maglus​

Alrdaig IV - Outter Atmosphere
Shinma

Amos' face remained a placid mask as they went hurtling through the upper reaches of the atmosphere.

Fire gripped the edges of their ship, turning the hue of metal around the canopy to a deep red. The sky around them burned, clouds falling away even as the rain fell in droves. Scattered droplets cast over the hull of their vessel, a loud hiss echoing out even as they fell from the sky. Their ship sailed further and further down towards the service of the planet, never budging from it's path.

Beneath them the lands lay a deep and verdant green, only the mountains ahead sitting somewhat bared. Long ago stripped for their resources by elements now gone.

Upon the hillside Amos could make out the barest shape, a small structure of steel and duracrete. Ancient and overgrown, it stood upon the mountain as a remnant of a thousand years gone by. An Empire long gone had built this structure, forgotten in ages past and left behind by battles fought in ages hardly recorded within the histories. That was why they were here, why they had come to this backwater world.

A memory of a remnant.

Alarms would blare upon the control system of this world, but neither Amos nor his companion would care.

"There." The Kiffari said, reaching out to point towards a section of the mountainside near the building nearly overrun. Within the barest span of earth, there was a space devoid of foliage. It would save them a hike, if only a small one.

 

[Tameon Sylverian]

Spoiler: Music OOC

Pristine forest. Picturesque countryside. Morning mist pouring between trees, as ephemeral as they were emerald; petrified wood, agate, and yellow and black with maggots and flies; jade mosses and lichen, brightened by sunshine, beyond the darkest marshes. The entire world was a gemstone; glittering green one moment—only to be broken the next.

If there was a poem in there somewhere then it was lost to time, bereft of a singular figure who traversed this verdant woodland. He had a purpose in mind, yet his gait was aimless. Brush crunched beneath his feet, shoulders brushed past branches, each and every step in one direction and the next. Tree canopy over head, then the welkin, sunlight beating down on the crown.

Boundless. Ships sailed, white as snow, drifting across the blue sea that mirrored this green earth. Clouds crawled across the sky, only to become grey ash, as ashen eyes watched them. Their embers were long lost, extinguished like a moth to a flame. Distinguished otherwise: draconic irises; golden, crimson—fit for a Sith Knight.

Rain. He smelled it first. Or did he hear it? Feel it? He closed his eyes at that moment, standing behind a towering sentry proudly proclaiming itself a tree within a sea of green. “A storm is coming…” He whispered to nobody in particular as a breeze tickled his features. Hair rippled, silver as moonlight on a dark night, though his heart was firelight. “...My lord…”

When he opened his eyes, Tameon glimpsed an object in the distance, honest as his fists. It was a pinprick at first, like droplets, burning bright, but by the time he recognized its bursts there was fire in the sky. And a ship comes with it.

Straightening the collar of his black leather jacket, the son of Sylverian stood still as a statue, quite like the wooden sentinels that flanked him. Birds flew, flapping wings frantically between trees, and critters scurried beneath, and alarms blared, but Tameon Sylverian did not care.

Standing not far from a clearing, the Black Knight licked rain from his lips, closed and opened his eyes, and gazed upon the vessel that was nearing the emerald amid scarlet and sable. Perhaps their visit was born in darkness, like his. And perhaps my life is a fable.

Amos

 

[Shinma]

Alrdaig IV - Forests & Morning Rain

The ship Amos and Shinma rode violently shook. Shinma sat at the controls with face pointed toward the transparisteel viewport before the two Sith. Alarms blared around the pair. Huttese words flooded the air from the flight controls. A pop echoed out from behind Amos as an electrical panel blew some fuses.

To the eyes of Tameon Sylverian , the ship Amos and Shinma rode on would appear old and busted. It obviously carried the rust and dents of decades of abuse - maybe even a century - with the ship clearly on its last legs.

Shinma guided the ship toward the clearing near the ancient ruins of interest. The ship lurched forth and made its final approach until it came to a rough landing.

THUD!

The ship hissed. Shinma's body shook from the sudden deceleration. Alarms continued to beep around the two Sith as the old junker of a ship powered down. Despite the ship being old, the clumsy landing still betrayed Shinma in revealing the Sith's pedestrian skills in piloting.

"We'll need to acquire a real pilot if we're to make more trips to these remote planets," Shinma told Amos.

Shinma then stood up and began to make way to the landing ramp - which slowly lowered and extended itself to the ground.

"Remind me what we came here for," Shinma asked of Amos.

 

[Amos]

Alrdaig IV - Forests & Morning Rain
Shinma | Tameon Sylverian

Amos grunted in response to his companion. The last pilot he'd 'acquired' had been turned into piles of scrap after an outburst of rage. An consequence of which being that Hedda had refused to supply him another.

Perhaps they would simply have to take someone who could do it for them.

The pieces he had since collected pointed their way here. Long ago this place had created some sort of contraption for the Empire, a walker he'd been told. Great numbers of the things had been made here. But it was not the factory that interested them, rather what lay deep beneath it. "There's a vault beneath the facility."

The words came as they stepped out into the rain. Pelting droplets sweeping down from the sky as they began to make their way through the forest and towards the distant foundry.

"It holds the remnants of some Imperial Cult." Inquisitors, they had been called, though Amos had already forgotten that detail. They had apparently been a group of Jedi hunters, tasked with tracing the whereabouts of the light and wiping it out in a time when Sith dominated the galaxy. The vault contained some of what they had looted from their casualties.

Apparently the factory had been some sort of cover.

As they walked further through the forest, the facility ahead came slowly into view. Steel overgrown with vines and trees, slowly beginning to be reclaimed by the mountainside.

 

[Tameon Sylverian]

Spoiler: Music OOC (Recurring)

What began as a dot, little more than a rock high in the sky the size of an eye, rocked its way out from the clouds and became a flame to light the rain. The vessel all but roared and trembled, curving and careening toward the land. Wind ripped reminiscent of a hurricane. It was as if the cosmos had coughed out this ship from the stars to choke the clouds as it arced its way down to become a stone’s throw away.

Branches cracked, but not from the ship—from him. He walked across the sticks and rocks and watched the ship as it dropped. It came toward him, or seemed to, as it soared forth toward that space devoid of foliage. He followed, quiet as snow, but it was rain that fell upon the ground and gave him silence. He had no need of the Force to make no noise as he reached a low ledge.

Beneath his feet, beyond the steep hill of dirt and tree, there that rock had come to greet the earth. From this distance, he couldn’t spy finer details amid the droplets that veiled the scene, but the ship appeared to be busted and beaten. A rust bucket. Though, he wasn’t one to judge it. Instead, he decided it was time to get on with it.

Down the mud hill, out from behind the trees, hilt tucked away beneath his attire for the moment, fingertips having no need to ignite fire that instant. He reached the ship, curving a lone finger across its cold hull, but sensed no presence within it. That was his key to get in for some exploring. Yet something else caught his attention with a different story to tell. Footprints. It was a good hint.

And more. He sensed a presence in the Force. Perhaps it's my sister. He joked. Or the ghost of an inquisitor. So Tameon Sylverian took those lone fingers to pull silver strands of hair back that had matted to his face by the rain and, as the dragon would dare, he walked onward and followed the fire in his veins—come hell or high water.

Amos
Shinma

 

[Shinma]

Alrdaig IV - Approaching the foundry | Morning Rain

Amos and Shinma left footsteps in the mud as they walked. Raindrops pelted Shinma's robe - the wax covering it keeping Shinma somewhat dry.

"Which empire?" Shinma asked, "If it's Palpatine's, I doubt there is much value remaining."

In the wake of Amos and Shinma, there remained a trail of heavy imprints in the mud for Tameon Sylverian to follow. Neither of the Sith seemed to make efforts to hide their tracks.

Soon enough, the ruins of the foundry stood before Amos and Shinma. Without hesitation, Shinma approached a vine-covered entrance. The sealed door had likely never moved for many centuries. Shinma approached a corroded and rusted keypad half covered in moss. The Sith reached out to rip off the vegetation - causing the keys to disintegrate. No signs of the facility being powered could be observed.

Shinma stepped away from the foundry door and gestured toward Amos.

"All yours," Shinma told him.

Then, Shinma took a few more steps away from the door to give Amos room. Shinma's helmet faced the treeline - apparently gazing out.

 

[Amos]

Aldraig - The Foundry
Shinma | Tameon Sylverian

Amos glanced at Shinma as they walked. "I don't know who that is."

In truth, he did not know who many Sith were. The Kiffari had grown up in a manner cut off from much of he rest of the galaxy. His tribe was an insular one, only occasionally doing the work of preying on their worlds more 'up-to-date' inhabitants when it suited them.He knew of the Darkside through it's natural connection with his people.

The Sith long past were just an echo left behind.

"The vault apparently remains untouched." At least that was the information that he had been given. If it wasn't, he was sure it would lead to an interesting conversation when they returned.

Bucking his head upwards as they reached the door, Amos felt the amphistaff coiled around his back shift slightly. Moving it's head to snake upwards and draw onto his neck. He grunted at the serpent, and then shifted his stance, hand coming upward as the creak of metal began to shriek out in a terrible cry. The door rent itself as the force tore down upon it, slowly peeling open to each side and rending a gap large enough for the two Sith to walk through.

Beyond, in the distant dark, the sound of shuffling metallic feet could barely be heard.

 

[Tameon Sylverian]

Spoiler: Music OOC (Recurring)

In the glade, there was only grass and mud to contend with on the forest floor. Footprints, pressed in, stuck out like sore thumbs. The rain itself was more vivid as it fell, the weather indifferent to he who walked, hammering upon the leather of his coat. Though, those footsteps were less evident past the tree line away from the rust bucket. That was fine. He didn’t really need them.

His own feet stepped on wooden cones, sent beasts scattering because of it. To think, even in this cold downpour he could’ve scorched a score or more of them. Yet this Sith had only one target in mind and, truth be told, he was already on the mark before a ship came from the sky.

How much farther? His sister might have whispered. Senestra. She was the youngest of kin though the closest to him. “Not far now.” His own whisper tickled the wind. Whatever presence he sensed was still at a distance. He trekked. Brittle branches in his way. Hilt and blade could take care of them. Raising a few fingers made them move away instead.

The woodland was getting denser this far out. I’m getting closer. Seconds. Minutes. Hours. Time did not matter in the end, not on this planet, not for his purpose. Then again, the Knight had to wonder as he licked rain from his lips with a sigh, flicking a big tick away that had landed on his thigh. Will they get in my way? Will they have to die?

Amos Shinma

 

[Shinma]

Alrdaig IV | The Foundry

Shinma turned to look back at the Foundry's door now with a gaping hole. Darkness enveloped everything within.

"Who told you of this place, then?" Shinma asked.

Then, Shinma took the lead and stepped into the foundry. Mud tracked into the foundry's entryway.

STOMP STOMP STOMP

Shinma took the time to kick off some mud from caked up boots. That was enough noise to alert something close to foundry's entrance.

"I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-LLLLLLLLLLLL----------R--R-R-R-R-R-RR-RRRI-live----to---S_S_S_S_S_S---Serve," some robotic voice screeched from the darkness.

CLANK CLANK CLANK

The sounds of footsteps approached the entrance as ancient protocol droid missing half its cladding emerged from the darkness and into the small bit of light that poured from the foundry's torn door.

 

[Amos]

The Foundry

"Walking calamities." Amos practically spat the words as he spotted the droid wandering towards them.

The things disgusted him. An amalgamation of life built into scrap metal with only enough thought for the next thing in their programming. No ambition, no desire, no hate. Even as servants they paled, echoed of what life was supposed to be, what it could be when truly lived.

Amos shook his head as he stepped inside. "Droid."

"I-I-I-I-i-I-I a-a-a-a-am h-he-her-he-here to h-e-e-e-el-help."​

It's voice shrilled out in an echo, resounding in the hollow room of the empty factory floor. Amos looked towards his companion with a blank slate, his head shaking slowly. "It's useless."

"It won't know of the vault." He grunted.

"T-th-th-the v-v-va-vau-vault is only accessible through o-o-o-off a-a-a-access f-f-floors."​

 

[Tameon Sylverian]

Spoiler: Music OOC (Recurring)

Heavy rain. Hard and fast. Millions and millions of droplets hammering and hissing upon the forest’s carpet, grass and stick, to become formless at the splash. The sound of them blurred together, almost like static; white noise that drowned out the planet and the stars. The woodland’s inhabitants were silent, finding shelter from the downpour, but one man marched forth, passing a hand against the fabric of bark.

His hand came back wet with water, but fingers were gloved in leather. Perhaps his dark outfit would work with him in this blanket of grey were someone around to mistake him for prey. He was closer, he could sense it. Rain pounded, obscured his outer senses, but there was a distinct shriek that emerged further through the trees. That is no screech of a beast.

Something metallic, as if something opened, and the echo was apparent. Brush crunched underfoot. A flash in the sky. Lightning. A -crack!- that covered the storm as only thunder could. And, like that, the Sylverian found the edge of trees, but this clearing was unique. It was no glave. Rather, a building had cleared the way.

The door was open beyond the boundary. The shape that was made indicated the Force had broken it. Though, Tameon saw no one at the entrance. Just past it, perhaps. A glance left, a glance right, taking in the decrepit remains of the foundry. Impressive. His sarcasm was not. He walked, crossed the entryway, and stepped into the dark, hilt and blade a heartbeat away.

Amos Shinma

 

[Shinma]

The Foundry | A Less Rainy Interior

"It seems to know of the vault anyway," Shinma told Amos as soon as the droid revealed its knowledge.

Shinma stepped forth toward the droid. The darkness surrounding Shinma and Amos did not seem to bother Shinma or inhibit the Sith's footsteps.

"Hhhhhh-h-h-h-h-h-how-wowowowowow m-m-m-ma-How cannnnnnn- I hel-elelelelelelp," the droid stuttered.

Shinma approached the droid to stand just in front of it and then spoke.

To Amos, Shinma might not seem to do anything remarkable. To others and especially to the droid, Shina seemed to spin words on top of words. A cacophony of noises layered on top each other.

"As the Imperial commander, I order you to take us to the vault," would be one phrase spoken to the droid.

In response, the droid replied with, "F-f-f-olllllllllowwwww...."

CLANK CLANK CLANK

And the droid began to walk off as if to lead Shinma and Amos somewhere - where ever the likely faulty droid would bring them.

Behind Amos and Shinma, Tameon Sylverian would be welcomed by the darkness of the foundry and the sound of footsteps with some mud trails before him that could be followed.

 

[Amos]

He grunted in response, annoyed at having been proved wrong.

Amos watched his companion deal with the mechanical malcontent. Drawing a slight cock of his eyebrow as to his eye he watched the man simply stand. There was something. An impression in the force, a moment of silence that seemed to hang for too long, but the Barbarian hardly seemed to notice. Arms crossing as he waited for whatever Shinma was doing to fail.

"F-f-f-olllllllllowwwww...."​

The droid commanded, it's clanking steps echoing out as it began to lead.

Amos let a beat pass, frowning as he studied his companion within the darkness. Then slowly he stalked after the teetering calamity, it's steps like a strange siren call through the darkness of the Foundry.

Slowly it tottered forward, moving through the ancient factory with no regard for what lay in it's way. It stalked between ancient machinery, old crucibles, and even the parts of fallen walkers. Errant leg parts and broken metal hulls laying scattered on the floor where cranes had long ago fallen. The droid weaved through it all, or kicked aside what was small enough to be moved. Eventually leading the pair of Sith to a long barren wall.

"P-p-pl-please p-p-p-pr-pre-pre-p-present acc-acc-acc-access c-c-c-c-c-ca-card."​

It said, gesturing to the wall. "The thing is broken."

Amos remarked in annoyance.

"It's a wall." He told the broken droid, being met with an immediately response.

"P-pre-p-present a-a-a--ac-ac-access c-c-c-c-c-ca-card."​

 

[Tameon Sylverian]

Spoiler: Music OOC (Recurring)

Through the doorway somebody else made, into the ruins which hid what only graves could tell. Tameon moved in the shadows created by the light outside. Inside was dim, then dark, and soon there was no light, but his eyes guided him in a different way.

Movement. Footprints, yes, but the mud wasn’t endless. He relied on his senses instead. He wasn’t that far from them. In the quiet, where broken machinery had long ceased their whining, with only a few critters finding corners for hiding, an echo carried through the corridors. Footsteps.

Tameon maintained his pace, unconcerned over being heard with only his pair of boots. Whatever moved up ahead was metallic. He stepped past loose wiring, avoided making noise as he weaved between pieces of droid and wondered after his clanking friend. Might you be an intact version of these? His senses said yes.

Onward he walked, through the blackness thick as fog, with lifeless surroundings once alight and alive some time ago. Walkers. This foundry wanted to talk to him, despite its silence, spill its secrets. Long gone but not forgotten. The remnants of the Empire left an impression. What are you hiding from me in the belly of this beast? He trekked further but heard no answer. Not yet, at least. Then he reached the end.

“Yes,” Tameon Sylverian said in the shadows behind the droid and two men, cloaked in darkness, whatever they sensed. “It’s a wall.” Voice composed, not sarcastic. He was not stalling. Just watching.

Amos Shinma

 

[Shinma]

Shinma followed the robot. The metal sound of Shinma's boots hitting the rusted, metal floor rang out with each step.

The reward for following the protocol droid appeared to be a wall. Shinma stepped toward the wall after Amos spoke. The Sith placed a hand on the corroded surface.

"Ac-aaac-ccaaacce- cess cess cess.-" the droid continued to done on about some access card.

Shinma's fingertips traced along the wall. An audible breath followed - Shinma inhaling deep.

Then, Tameon Sylverian 's voice spoke out behind Amos and Shinma.

Shinma's head perked up. Then, it slowly turned away from the wall and toward the dark hallway.

"Someone followed us?" Shinma asked.

 

[Amos]

Amos half turned, his posture shifting so that he could see the man that had spoken. Within the darkness it was difficult to make out the man, but with narrowed eyes the Barbarian managed it. For a brief moment he simply studied the intruder, wondering silently whom he might be. His style of clothes was foreign, strange even among the many the Barbarian had seen over the last few months of travel off Kiffu.

"Apparently." He answered Shima, glancing back towards the wall and the protocol droid besides it.

It droned out another demand for an access card, and the temptation to simply cut it in half rose within him as he felt a spike of annoyance. Clippe words were offered to Shinma as he began to turn his attentions. "Perhaps the vault is behind the wall."

Such a thing seemed like the sort of trickery these Empire's liked to play. Tucking away their secrets and pretending that some durasteel would be enough to hide them away forever. He let Sinma deal with the mystery, slowly turning to fully face the newcomer.

"Have you come here to play the vulture?" Amos asked, not bothering to hide the loathing in his voice.

 

[Tameon Sylverian]

The protocol droid seemed five circuits shy of a whole skull. It mentioned an access card to get behind the wall. Damn. Tameon sighed in the shadows, catching the eye of one of the other treasure hunters to suggest he wasn’t so hidden after all. Not that he tried. Perhaps I should have looked around in advance. Yet what did they say about hindsight again?

Perhaps the vault is behind the wall. He didn’t have time to ponder over those words even though they made sense. At least these men didn’t seem to be idiots outright. When Tameon was addressed, his attention shifted to the one with a knot on his head.

Vulture. The irony was not lost on him. He gave it a moment, lips curved into a slight smirk if it could be glimpsed, but otherwise as rigid as his eyes. “Scavengers come in whatever wreckage you should have never left.” He looked between both men. “You search for scraps yet have stepped into a dragon’s nest.”

At that, Tameon stepped forth, staying at a safe distance from sabers, whoever the safety was for. His black jacket covered whatever weapons were on his person, with a sliver of black red metal revealed on his chest beneath the neck.

“I am that dragon.” His smirk faded. “And I have come to collect my eggs.” Tameon didn’t expect them to tremble, of course. The droid barked about the access card again. “Just as soon as you open this door.” He looked right, inspecting the darkness. “Or we.” Checked left. “Maybe there’s a desk with said card inside.”

Amos Shinma