Private But at What Cost?

[Zoyût]

Ziost was a dead planet. The world which had once been lush and vibrant now stood as a testament to the awe inspiring power of the Dark Side of the Force. The ancient Sith emperor Vitiate had left it a withered husk after consuming all life in his effort to become immortal. Unfortuantely his folly came to an end many thousands of years ago, and the only things that remained of his rule were artifacts, forgotten history, and the lingering malaise of planets once polluted by his corrupting influence.

In the depths of a frozen valley, guarded by howling wind and ice, lay an ancient Sith temple. The Lord to whom it had been dedicated had since been long forgotten. Effigies eroded by time and weather had shown their age in the dim eternal winter. Under the deep snow and ancient recesses Ziost had awoken. The ancient temple having been buried in snow and ice for so long now showed itself once more. The crevice in which the building was hidden, revealed after one of the few tectonic shifts that occasionally hit the world. A deeper darkness emanated as soon as the first cracks showed, but once fully bereft of its icy tomb permeated the world. Imperceptible to most, but to those attuned to the Force it was like a beacon. Something seemed to have awakened, something evil.

Zoyôt had created the situation of her own accord. It was meant to lure those traveling nearby in to slake their curiosity and lust for adventure. Her cultists had become somewhat restless with the relative peace since their previous visitor had proven himself worth her blessings. His gifts were great, and as he left she knew he was going to become an asset in the future when she felt it was time to make her presence truly known. Until then, she hid here, in the frozen shadow of Vitiate's power, growing in her own right.

What those who came to this planet did not know, was that she was no spirit looking for a vessel, but a very real, tangible threat to the lives of those who did not come seeking her gifts. She offered blessings to those attuned to the Dark Side, to those who wanted to grow in power no matter the cost. That was the truest expression of personal worth in her mind. Those who sought self-improvement shackled by morality would not know true power. Only those willing to partake in the darkest and most perverse rituals and rites could wield the Dark Side unfettered. She had accepted that gift years before, and was a walking example of what one could become if they but discarded their weakness and fear of the unknown.

The entryway of the ancient Temple was a door, darkened by an oppressive feeling. Only the barest hint of light seemed to permate the threshold, and once entered seemed to mute all sound from the outside. Even looking back at the howling winter winds of the valley yieled only a marginal increase in volume. It was as if there was an all-consuming atmosphere of dread that dulled the senses and muddled the mind. There were stairs that led down from this door, ancient, iced over, and dangerous.

There were faint hints that visitors had come to this place very recently. Those who were perceptive of the world around them could note that these stairs had been traveled as the spiked boots needed to tarverse ice had left their impressions behind, even though weeks had passed and the evidence was left behind very subtly. What drew the attention more was the acrid scent of the place. Blood and bile mixed in the air to create a deeply distressing odor that many would wretch at when faced with it very suddenly. Something was amiss about this place and it was hard to determine just where the source of it was, but it was fresh and lingered heavily.

From the walls jutted torches, but held by no normal stone sconce. These were held aloft by arms, frozen by the ice and wind and left to serve as the light source for would-be entrants to the tombs. They were previous victims, and they spanned across a wide breadth of species over the previous decades. Even the errant Jedi Knight had fallen to this temple, as the figures frozen in time to hold these torches were left undisturbed from how they had died. Lightsabers, blasters, and other such weapons remained on the deeply embedded bodies, but no life force showed from them. All had perished, and all looked as if they had seen the most horrifying thing they could possibly have witnessed. An aura of fear persisted in the hallway.

That aura increased, and those who entered now stood at the entry of what appeared to be a massive complex. This foyer served as what appeared to be a central location for ritualistic acts. There were gutters in the ice in which flowed a foul black ichor; the source of the scent that had drifted up the stairs. It flowed from what appeared to be those frozen in time, from wounds that never healed in bodies that never decomposed. There was a visceral malignant power at work here and the sense of dread would seem to only grow for those unacustomed with the depths of darkness the galaxy was capable of supporting.

Zoyôt had left her dead followers where they belonged, in positions of worship around the central dias. No life emanated from them, and their prostrate figures were kept frozen where they had bowed their heads to the stone. Centrally, there was a pool where the foul liquid collected. It was of indeterminate depth, but the closer one got the more it stank of death and decay. Starting quietly but growing in volume there was a chanting. To those unfamiliar with the language, it would mean nothing. Those that could speak the ancient Sith language though, could note that the voices were singing a profane hymn to their provider and caretaker.

In the central dias where the pool remained still, cultists seemed to gather around the liquid and offered their chants louder. Any visitor or intruder was not acknowledged by them, as they seemed to be wholly invested in praise and preparation for something. From the ichor, a figure rose with arms outstretched. It was an unnatural form. Over eight feet tall, arms and legs thin and lanky beyond normal proportion. The body appeared to be exposed by the flesh was scarred and wounded. Metal met flesh in an unnatural fusion. The white plating appeared to not be worn, but rather to be part of her body entirely now. As the chanting concluded any light in the room was snuffed out, leaving the room in a deep and unsettling darkness.

Without even a hint of sound from movement, every figure that had been there previously had vanished as the torches lit up again. With no trace of the monstrous figure that emerged, nor the cultists that had completed their ritual, it was hard to tell if what was witnessed was truly real. What was real though, was the voice of a woman that now impressed itself upon the minds of those present. "New supplicants...how, exciting. Perhaps you will prove to be worth more than your predecessors." it said, as the pool in the center of the room regurgitated what seemed to be three corpses that had been drained entirely of their life essences. Nothing remained by the withered husks of three strangers that had found this place only one week prior. It was now very clear, that this temple was inhabited by something beyond all sense of morality and goodness. So loathesome and vile was the creature that spoke that every word was as a profane poison to the mind. She relished in her power, and grew ever more excited to toy with these minds to see just how much they could handle before attempting to leave this place in abject terror.

Jared Starchaser Grendel Krayt Onith

 

[Jared Starchaser]

Jared was much different than his father. Sure, he was a Starchaser, and he worked to support the Light as best he could, but it wasn't every aspect of him. He was a Jensaarai, a Jedi, and partially a spiritual Mirialan, did that last part make him a witch? Maybe in the way of folk Force use from his family lineage. It would work for him, he didn't have an issue with it. But he was also an adventurer.

His father had the Alliance and Concord. His sister had the company. He just had a desire to do what was right and explore the galaxy. Traveling aboard his ship. It was what his grandfather had done. His own father fell into military service after his wayfinding days, and now he was back to that and training Jedi. Jared still felt at odds.

But with the Sunrise, he was able to do some good in the galaxy. And sometimes that good meant joining some suspicious contacts and making moves to various parts of the galaxy to learn more, to help more, and to find more. That was what brought him here to Ziost. He had no idea what he was getting into, but his ability in the Force was able to hide his true alignment as he was pulling into the subspace of the planet. A call had gone out to a few others to meet with people there, to see what they could find of the cult that was at this temple.

Landing his ship, he had stepped back to arm himself before finding his way off the ship, hoping to find others at the meeting spot. Light Jensaarai inspired armor, aspects of various teachings along his belt, a blaster, lightsaber, and phrik quarterstaff. He was ready. He hoped. As he and the others had made their way into the temple, they were greeted by the sight of a ritual. Part of Jared wanted to play the hero, step in while this was going on, and disrupt it. But part of him couldn't focus. The Force was heavy here, dark… dead.

As the voice spoke, the lightsaber was in his hand, and he looked to the others. As the pool moved, the blade came alive splashing green light around.

 

[Onith]

Breaking the dead silence of the world, a battered Y-TIE spluttered exhaust as it entered the atmosphere. Piloted by an equally worn astromech, the ship shuddered, manoeuvring with the deftness of a Bantha. Its two occupants, another droid and a pureblooded Sith, sat in threadbare safety webbing. The droid lay motionless in the depths of sleep mode while the organic had no such relief. Onith's knuckles practically glowed white as she held a death grip on the sides of the pilot's chair she occupied.

The decision to purchase the old fighter had been one of necessity, funds being practically non-existent but the need for free movement becoming paramount. Her companion, the translator unit BR-4, had managed to catch fragments of a message about this temple on Ziost. Onith hoped to recoup the losses in whatever might be found here, although her actual goal was not the accumulation of treasures as the prospect of learning. These sorts of places were rife with ancient knowledge, information that could lead her to greater discoveries.

With her concerns about the astromech's capabilities as a pilot at the forefront of her mind, Onith barely noted the starship that lay already landed in the snow. Despite earlier difficulties, the landing process was actually quite smooth, although one of the gear had jammed and left the ship with an awkward tilt on its struts. Dismounting, Onith turned to the artificial passenger in the seat behind her; flipping its power switch she hopped from the vessel and sunk into the cold snow.

She had noted others ahead, and she remained only long enough to give her droid a quick command, ~Remain here, I'll return.~

Although the droid stood as one of the only methods of communication, given her only understanding the language of the ancient Infinite Empire, Onith trusted that they would find a way to make it work. With only the spare clothing on her back and a simple bracelet of arcane origin wrapped around her wrist, she probably gave little indication of being prepared for an expedition of this sort. But desperate times afforded few opportunities for greater advancement unless one was willing to take risks... and Onith was willing to take extraordinary risks.

The travel in the temple was refreshing, a pleasant reminder of the days under Rakata masters. The darkness was oppressive, crushing and stifling her minds will, yet insodoing it gave her fresh strength. As the massive form rose from its repose in amidst the ritual, Onith felt the cold chill of abject terror. The vision dissipated and left her with a moment's respite before the incoporeal voice spoke its veiled threat. A moment later, the distinct sound of a saber springing to life made Onith nearly jump out of her skin in surprise. Snapping her head around she saw the source of the green blade and allowed her nerves to calm a little.

Though she doubted he would understand, the old Sith spoke quietly, ~You nearly scared the living daylights out of me. Careful with that.~

Jared Starchaser Grendel Krayt Zoyût

 

[Grendel Krayt]

Landing on the desolate world of Ziost walking down the landing ramp of his ship with a massive Hammer resting on his shoulder. Grendel did not know what drew him to his dead world but he wasn't going to question it and hopefully maybe get some credits for this. Walking up the steps of the temple and into the temple proper. Walking deeper he came across what he assumed was a sacrificial chamber only to hear the voice in his head, once the voice faded away Grendel noticed there was two other people in the chamber with him.

 

[Zoyût]

"It was no accident of nature that brought you here." Zoyôt said, speaking as if she was directly behind every single person in the room. It was illusory projection but certainly would be shocking for one to turn and see her so close to them. She had nothing here for them though, so the nature of the room itself was finally revealed. She channeled the Dark Side into the room, releasing a toxin into the thin atmosphere of their buried space. There were multiple exits but none led from whence they had come. The stairs that had led them down, had apparently vanished entirely. Had the room shifted?

It mattered not where they chose to go though, as each door wound up in the same space. More mental trickery? She relished in these moments though, as she impressed upon them the measure of this Temple's power against what their mind's could fight off. There was nothing in this room that was outwardly lethal. The walls were lined with statues of unknown Sith that appeared to guard this place. Each stone figure moved as if to suggest it was watching those who had come to this place. While they made no motion to leave their pedestals it was clear that they could at least follow their movement visually. If they were capable of jumping down then it was unclear. No treasure awaited them in this room though, as what rest before them was a simple measure of one's worth. There were three stone bowls, and three small surgical knives made of volcanic glass. The apparent suggestion was a small offering of blood, with no indication of what possible order it may or may not go in.

Should the blood be offered, the bowl would sink into the stone pedestal and disappear, and light up a torch above the stone doorway behind the small altar where they would have to bleed themselves. "Growth requires sacrifice. To change and become more than you once were, demands that we remain dynamic and active. Stagnation only allows us to become complacent. In our complacency may we fall to those who would continue to improve themselves. The loss of one's self, even on some small way, should be welcomed as opportunity, not feared as change. Change is the only certainty in the Force. Are you willing to embrace change?"

Jared Starchaser Onith Grendel Krayt

 

[Onith]

Onith heard the voice so close behind, giving her a moment of great concern as she expected someone to strike in that moment of distraction. Turning on her heel, the pureblood brought a fist up in defiant readiness, yet there was nothing there. The voice had spoken, and although the words themselves were meaningless, their underlying purpose seemed strangely clear. This was no random chance that brought her here, although that fact seemed strangely self-evident.

As if to punish her for such a presumptuous thought, a faint hissing sounded in amongst the alien muteness of the temple. It took Onith a moment to recognize the scent in the air, the bitter taste of a slow-debilitating toxin on her tongue. ~We should go.~ Eyes widened at the sudden discovery that the stairway they had travelled through was nowhere to be found. Instead, the room appeared to have grown several exits in other directions, yet their immediate path of egress had up and vanished.

Seeing this as a test of acuity, Onith pointed to an exit, confident that whatever lay beyond afforded them a greater chance of survival than remaining in this death room. ~Come on!~ Shouting in her own tongue, she motioned for the others to follow as she dashed towards it. She hoped they would at least be driven to action; whether or not they chose the same path as she was their own concern. Reminded of the death games and duels the Rakata had used their slaves for, she hoped that their numbers would guarantee survival.

Time seemed to pass differently, or at least the perception of it differed from average, for Onith remembered nothing of the steps into the next room or how long it had taken. The room before her held statues of many Sith, each in a position of apparent authority as if they were guardians with a dread duty to perform. She wondered what power might afford these seemingly stone, immobile representations their peculiar and unnerving aspect.

Turning back, she hald-expected to see the other two with whatever beast she had seen rise from the pool before.

Jared Starchaser Grendel Krayt Zoyût

 

[Jared Starchaser]

The words were carrying through the ruins. Jared could hear them well, but he knew better than to fall prey to them. There were people, witches, that could spill sweet honey into their words. Those were the ones to worry about. They came with a gift in one hand, and a knife in another. He knew what world he was at. Ziost was not a world that allowed for much discussion. This cycle they were in though… that was not something he was prepared for.

His family, they were Light Side, almost Force-born that way, but not in a way of mentalism. They were more Alter types. And walking, he was following the path he thought was going to get him away from all of this. Then there was another room that appeared to not have been the proper way to go. People came in from other sides.

He'd hoped to have gotten away from whatever that was coming out of the pool, but as he turned, he could sense it following him. Was he in a maze? Was it real?

"So, we fight?" He called out, to everyone and no one in particular. His lightsaber was ignited, and he was ready. Eyes scanning the chamber, watching the lumbering. He adjusted his grip. And moved. Only to be greeted by a change. A sudden stop in his footing, he looked around.

That was… unsettling.

Grendel Krayt Zoyût Onith

 

[Onith]

The man that stepped through showed no sign of being followed by a dread beast, no panic or mania in the eyes, not a moment of doubt. Grim determination and a steely purpose emanated from him, and for the moment she allowed herself to breathe in peace. Perhaps what she had witnessed before was just a hallucination, a projection through the Force rather than some actual physical reality. She knew the Builders had been capable of such things, but this place bore no sensation of their handiwork.

For the moment, however, the questions of this place's origins were to be sidelined as she focused once more on the room she now found herself in. Despite her initial correct identification of the objects, her mind had suspected the statues were nought but menhirs or totems. But as the stone beings moved to follow her movement through the grand room, their stony eyes revealing little of their purpose or if they yet lived as she did or were some construct of unknown make, Onith found herself trying to focus on what lay at the end of the room rather than the strange occupants on their pedestals.

Beckoning with her free hand, Onith stepped up to the bowl and grasped the simple blade. Weighing it in her hand, she felt that it was ill-suited to fighting in any meaningful way, although even without testing the blade she could sense its sharpness was not to be underestimated. Pondering what its purpose could be, she once more heard the strange speech of what she assumed to be the being who stood as the ruler of this place. Though the words meant nothing from their sounds, their actual meaning was nonetheless apparent, as if they were capable of breaking the thin barrier of language with startling ease.

But what would this need to continue? There was clearly a puzzle of sorts. Onith guessed at the potential use of the blade and bowl; but reluctant to believe such was their actual purpose, she tried to rationalize and contemplate a deeper mystery. Left to her own devices, the pureblood would spend a minute or two in contemplation, wracking her brain for some other solution to this riddle before admitting defeat and stepping up to the bowl. With practised precision, the blade twisted in her hand and dug a shallow, clean cut diagonally just below the elbow. As suspected, the blade was sharp enough that even such a clear cut only hurt in the slightest. Slipping the blade carefully aside, Onith tilted her arm to allow a slow drip of blood to flow into the bowl. While waiting for some response, she glanced over to her companion giving a shrug as she hoped he might come to a similar conclusion, and thereby vindicate her of her own self-doubt. Although perhaps he might have figured out the actual solution...

Jared Starchaser Zoyût Grendel Krayt