Broken Heritage

[Vrak Nashar]

Rhelg
[member="Solomon Zambrano"]

Vrak pulled the cloak a bit tighter around himself, lips turning down as he looked up towards the ancient and now broken fortress.

This world stood in an almost comical state from what it had once been, fortress of Ludo Kressh and home to one of the most powerful Sith in the galaxy. Now? Now it was inhabited by lesser beings. He frowned slightly as he trudged through the snow, the broken ruin just ahead of where he was now.

From what he had been told several Sith had been spotted upon the surface of Rhelg as of late, though he knew none of their names, nor did he care. The fortress had been left untouched, and that was all that really mattered. His interest in Rhelg went only as far as it's former Master, and it seemed at the very least that history had been left untouched. He frowned slightly as he moved down the path, his lightsaber rattling at his side.

He frowned slightly.

Perhaps he should have taken some of the Massassi.

Doing so however would have been a dead give away, and he was not quite ready to reveal himself for what he was, not yet anyway. He adjusted the mask upon his face, shifting it so none of the condensation from his breath ended up on the visor.

The trek would still take several minutes, and the icy storm was beginning to pick up.

 

[Darth Prazutis]

Rhelg, Home of the Fortress of Ludo Kressh

In his upbringing Solomon learned of the ancient history of the Sith from his cousin Kaine Zambrano. The origins of the Sith coming from the ancient red skinned race renowned as manifestations of the dark side give true form. Their slaves or grotthu built great big marvels at the guiding hands of the Zuguruk or builder caste. The skill of these red skinned barbaric beings were that of myth and legend with many of their great works still standing to this very day. Few in history short of the rumored Infinite Empires of old had achieved such skill and ability as the Sith. Their sorcerers wove deadly spells and curses on the battlefield while they crafted deadly weapons through alchemized rituals in their grand temples. Even the massassi or warriors were known in history for their unparalleled strength and skill on the battlefield. It was from the rigid caste system of this complex people that the Sith Order found its origins today. Only now all that truly remained were looted temples and ruined relics of the past.

So he thought.

History foretold that the Sith species were led to extinction through so many wars and the subsequent cross breeding with the human exiles that slowly caused them to disappear from history. Only the eloquent languages of Sith the more common tongue, and High Sith the noble language spoken by the great Kissai remained behind. It was the lessons of these people's that pulled at the young Prince's curiosity, his innate hunger to learn of the mythical founders of the order that he called himself part of today. How could one truly call themselves Sith without knowing and respecting the founders and their history he often asked. Solomon respected and revered the ancient species, if they had still existed today he often wondered what they would've thought about the order.

The man's favor over the past drew him to pick up both languages of the ancient Sith from his cousin and father. They do often came into use especially in the many expeditions to these great sites he so often went on. The untouched history of this palace was one once owned by Ludo Kressh, Lord of the Sith and rival of Naga Sadow. Solomon slid a pair of black grilled gloves on his hands as he scaled the path to the great citadel, his lightsaber clipped to his belt beneath the folds of his robe.

[member="Vrak Nashar"]

 

[Vrak Nashar]

[member="Solomon Zambrano"]

The ruins were a sight in it of themselves.

Few of the towers still stood, though one in particular had somehow managed to remain intact over the centuries. He glanced up towards it, eyes darting over the half toppled structure. The walls had been completely ruined of course, some parts still standing, others naught but rubble. He shifted slightly as he headed up the cliffside, clambering over one of the broken sections of the wall and frowning as he observed the inner courtyard of the Citadel.

He wondered briefly when the last time was that anyone had been within these hallowed walls.

Most of the citadel was of course built into the mountainside itself, the deeper reaches of the keep were well hidden away beneath dozens of feet of solid rock. It kept the true valuable parts of the ship safe from Turbolaser strikes from orbit. Ludo Kressh had been no fool, and he'd built this fortress to withstand assaults from his rivals.

The towers, the walls, they were all really just set pieces.

No one had ever assaulted Rhelg, not the Jedi, not Naga Sadow, no one that would have stood in Kressh's way.

Those histories were written in the novels on Athiss, a world that would later belong to Kressh's family. Vrak frowned for a moment as he watched the inner courtyard, somewhat weary of this place. The Ancient Sith liked to hide more than just their secrets within these citadels. Often they were spotted with traps, creatures, and spirits. He frowned for half a moment more and then bounded down from the top of the wall, landing with a soft crunch of snow beneath his feet.

 

[Darth Prazutis]

Unlike his unknowing company [member="Vrak Nashar"] Solomon didn't drop in from the wall, but found his way in via a postern gate. The primitive design of the ancient stronghold of Ludo Kressh was carved into the face of rock. Deep beneath lay the true locked treasures. But like any stronghold it needed its side entrances, its paths to bring supplies in. Solomon was at once such pathway that would lead hm up to the courtyard where another presence in the force was felt...something odd.

​Carefully the prince moved through the archaic halls reading the age old architecture and various runes littered about. To those uninitiated in the arts of the Sith they were just symbols, but to someone who spoke their language? They told volumes.

​But then...

Click.

​Amidst his curiosity Solomon lightly stepped down on one of the trapped tiles briefly sinking into the floor, spears emerging from hidden slits in the walls. If he weren't initiated in the arts of the Sith, if he weren't trained by skillful teachers Solomon would've been dead. But...

He managed to avoid being impaled, receiving a painful grazing wound on the shoulder for his incompetence as the loud trap went off.

 

[Vrak Nashar]

The clattering noise was enough to call his attention.

His lips thinned slightly, the thundering sound echoing through the broken ruins. Vrak scowled slightly, his lightsaber immediately flicking free from his belt. The Saber-staff remained unlit, though only because he was somewhat weary of whomever was out there.

The clouds overhead drew drab and dreary, the sky above become more gray than was usual even for this world.

The Pureblood frowned slightly, his eyes glancing up to see the swirling mists of snow beginning to fall anew. His grip tightened on his lightsaber, eyes wandering towards the grand doors that lay ahead of him. For a moment he considered abandoning this quest. There would not be much to find here, and perhaps it wouldn't be worth it encountering whomever was here. Fighting was all well and good, but it might give away too much information in the end.

He frowned for a second more, passing his eyes over graying skies.

No, he had come this far, he would go the rest of the way.

With silent steps Vrak headed towards the broken relics.