Campaign Excavation of Asog

[Lord Letifer]

Excavation of Asog
Nyâshdae | Asog

"The Sith have no Seeds, since what they Bury does not Grow. They are the Despoilers of Worlds, and have Laid to Waste once Fertile Habitats such as Korriban, Ziost, Ixigul, Asog, and Others."
- Kli the Elder in The Rammahgon

Excavation of Asog​

The near-forgotten world of Asog has been rediscovered in the midst of the chaotic Second Great Hyperspace War in the Brotherhood’s very own backyard. The soothsayers of Exegol preach the importance of the ancient Sith colony and the treasures that have laid undisturbed for over millennia. Known for their ingenuity, their ability to create powerful superweapons and harvest the Dark Side to power their trinkets, the Heathen Priests salivate over the potential spoils left behind by the Sith long expired. Bring them a worthy tribute or take claim over what is rightfully yours before another can, but beware, this place is not what is seems. There is danger in every corner, traps left behind, generations of sithspawn born of the barren sands, and more. Take your plunder. Make offerings to the Dark Three. Keep what you kill.

Possible Rewards: Talisman, Force-imbued weapon or object, tomes, scrolls, ancient Sith artifacts, and custom factory tech (made to hybridize between Mawite tech and ancient Sith). There will be one clue to a future dom, references to ancient Mawite beliefs in a mural discovered by ancient Sith and clues to a secret prize left buried.

Trials of Typhojem​

They can have their trinkets. The greatest secrets are borne of the Force itself, let the Final Dawn colonize the planet, let the Mawite masses tear apart the ancient debris of a empty city. Inside the Great Temple of Nyâshdae rests a great labyrinth filled with traps, tests, and trials conquered only through the combined efforts of a Sith master and apprentice. Two may enter, no more, no less. Each path leads to either death or victory, the trials invoke the sacred name of Typhojem, the Left Handed God of the Sith and is said to carry his blessing. If one manages to make it to the central chamber the rewards are said to be unimaginable.

Possible Rewards: Scrolls, tomes, Sith Holocron, dark armor, custom Sith artifacts. There will be one secret prize for whomever can unlock the way to the central chamber at the end of the labyrinth.

Colonize the planet with the forces of the Final Dawn, hunt down traitors and turncoats alongside the tribal taskmasters, or carve out an adventure of your own.

​

 

[Lord Letifer]

Lord Letifer | New Sith Order
Grand Temple Entrance​

A brilliant flash glistened from the reflective lens of the dark visor, his masked visage studied over the hieroglyphics and runic inscriptions left behind by the ancient Sith. It was beautiful, truly.

His dark gaze snapped away from the massive stone doorway, eyes burning under the masque he wore with sulfuric malice. There was power here, power buried beneath the surface. He would spare no slave, no impotent welp in the service of this great excavation. The time has come for the Brotherhood and the New Sith Order to claim what laid dormant all these centuries.

“How long?”

His voice rasped within the vocabulator, spewing forth a mechanical after sound. His patience was wearing thin already, anticipation for what secrets they would claim had taken hold of him completely and totally.

He’d receive no definite answer, just the mumblings of the foreman driving the slaves and strand-cast workers forward. With a tightening of his invisible grip over the empyrean, the foreman would never have a poor answer ever again. Falling against the stone on the outer walls of the temple, his body collapsed as he choked and gagged till his face became blue.

The Sith assassin-turned-Lord of the Sith clenched his fist, “Bring me Vector Monk , I need results.”

 

[Vector Monk]

Lord Letifer

GREAT TEMPLE OF TYPHOJEM
UNKNOWN REGIONS
​

"Magnificent!"

Truly there were wonders out here to rival the Stygian Caldera, and Captain Vector Monk would know. His new patrons were less interested in the esoteric yet all Sith craved power in some form or another. Monk wore a Final Dawn uniform beneath his greatcoat with the new Project Tantiss insignia pinned to one collar. Immaculate grooming and an aristocratic galidraani accent seemed incongruous with the typical Maw zealots.

"First or Second Dynasty," Vector was breathless, "Its foundations might even predate the Hundred Year Darkness."

If the Sith Lord standing close enough to break his neck frightened Monk, he disguised such emotions well. Indeed, Vector seemed far more concerned with the way Letifer's untrained slaves were defacing a millennia old cultural monument. He stepped over the strangled foreman without even so much as glancing down.

"Dear fellow, I would not-" before he could finish three of the slaves spontaneously erupted in flames, "...touch that."

Vector let out a mournful whistle and shrugged.

"This dialect of ur-Kittât is very old my lord," he knelt before the Sith, "By your leave, I will require several minutes to translate."

 

[Darth Ptolemis]

Atmosphere I.
Equipment.

EXCAVATION OF ASOG

Tags are open.
​

A hooded menace stands calmly at the edge of a plateau, grains of sand colliding with his motionless face as the bleak winds of Asog pass around him. His black cape ripples to the beat of distant explosions as his presence looms over the vast, forsaken wastes.

An ebon scout ship stands silently next to the uneven plateau that rises above the surrounding land; the craft shimmers under the lifeless rays of sunlight filtering through the smog of the past. The Sith apprentice closes his two eyes but opens his third one as he breathes in a bitter fragment of this dark planet's history, listening solemnly to its whispers should they try to beckon or repel him from secrets long forgotten. Whatever the planet held within, his pursuit for higher knowledge was profound. Eternal. Worth any price to fulfill.

Below the shadowy figure stretches a seemingly endless salt flat with Maw ground forces already swarming derelict settlements in the distance, yet those structures… are not his destination. He instead turns from the edge and traverses the craggy surface of the plateau, right towards the middle of the geological outcropping. Back in orbit, around the squandered planet he meditated for days, projecting his mind like a formless spectre onto the surface, his primal hunger digging its warped claws into the planet's lore and taboo. Searching for recesses hidden by time and space; where only few would look. Under insignificant rocks, below unassuming ravines.

That was how he found this whirlpool of darkness at the centre of the plateau; naturally formed, indeed, but beneath the rocks lay an obscure entrance, only revealing itself for those whose hunger for secrets was burning the hottest.

The apprentice crouches down on one knee, his left arm resting on the bent leg, his right one submerged beneath jagged pebbles. An audible, foreboding hum follows a twitch of the arm as he violently tears his closed fist from beneath the rocks, simultaneously launching massive boulders in front of him towards the sky. The heavy objects fall upon the ground one by one, their magnitude reflected by the cavernous impact sounds of their landing. The resulting narrow hole in the middle reveals glimpses of an ornately engraved circle carved into the bedrock, with a stone spiral staircase leading down into the lightless abyss inside of the ring. He stands up, notes his discovery on his datapad, then slides it into one of his tactical pouches. The saberless apprentice unclips a flare from his waistbelt, breaks it in half, and holds up the maroon phosphorescence as he takes his first steps down towards the ominous depths.
​

 

[The Human]

Personal Equipment: Force Armour and Mask, Two Lightsabers (x) (x) ,2x Nadir Repeating Blasters
TAG: Lord Letifer

Very rarely does he have a moment to himself though after a few missions, you think he get a deserved rest. Not so, he instead found himself in an area where he may finally get some answers, a personal request. The rediscovery of Asog, an ancient civilization world destroyed almost by nuclear fire had been rediscovered, many have been sent out to explore the ruins and wastelands of the area. The Human himself felt drawn, if not possessed to come into this area and to explore what may be things of his past. The call of the Dark Side was strong, yet so was he, prepared for the challenges ahead.

Walking far from the beaten path, he stopped near a large crack in the ground as sand starts to fall through. Leaning over to stare into the unknown depths, he felt the Force touching his mind, nudging him towards his next actions. The action, to breath and go forth, to take the chance in the Living Force. With his eyes wide open, he slowly took one step, and started to fall down into the ravine. Down he went, faster and faster as the wind blew through his armour, his whole body feeling it was pushed upwards. The bottom started to come quick, it was of a hard surface of metal as he pulled his two lightsabers out.

However before he could do anything, he felt himself slow down and gently, his feet landed with a loud clacking noise onto the metal under his feet. Blinking, he slowly clipped the lightsabers as he was unsure what just occurred. Was it a gravity lift? Airflow? The Force? Questions plagued his mind as he slowly walked away from it and seeing an opening with metal thrown around, he walked forward and started to explore what was possibly beyond.

 

[Maestus]

Dragon Shield Talisman


She had stalled out. She was stuck. Stumped. Maestus was in an academic and scientific rut.

She had spent years dedicated to research and many scientific pursuits. Weeks spent pouring over a passage in an arcane text to attempt the slightest hypothesis of the author's reasoning for their choice of words.

Maestus noticed things many glossed over. While most notice pretty flowers, she notes the insects flying about. Where most can appreciate creative talent, Maestus seems to feel the artist's emotions they experienced while creating; All by being aware of the deeper layers that are present in everything, everywhere.

Cause and effect. Nothing is immune. Not even the Sith Lord herself. The effect she suffered was a mental block. She had been stymied for weeks by this point, unable to make any progress in any of her pursuits. What she doesn't know, is the cause.

Which brings her here. Stepping off her shuttle and onto an unfamiliar planet. She inhales the alien air deeply, almost tasting it as she acclimates her senses. She's here to find herself, to find the cause of this damnable mental block. She brushed up on the basics of the planet Asog. She knew it was rumored to be rich in Sith history. Ever the perpetual student, this seems an ideal location to work through her issues.

She begins her trek heading west. Alone for a stark change. The ever present duo of Chosen that accompany her everywhere are noticably absent. Apparently, Maestus needs "Me time".​

 

[Darth Kentarch]

​

Why become a Dark Lord of the Sith when all you would rule over was ashes. So many worlds were ruined by the onslaught of the Sith. Korriban after the death of Adas. Nathema and Ziost consumed by Darth Vitiate. Exegol twisted by the machinations of Darth Sanguis. Now in modern times, Csilla had been shattered and the Maw and the New Sith Order. So many worlds lie in ruins, the result of endless wars.

As Kentarch descended down towards the planet, he reflected on the history of Sith. Their insatiable hunger to consume and destroy everything. Was this the ultimate legacy of the Sith? To be an endless blight that scourged the galaxy? Kentarch's reflected on the philosophy Ludo Kressh and the reign of Darth Dramath. Kressh believed in isolation, it was Naga Sadow who turned the Sith into galactic conquers. Dramath reigned over a planet with flourishing jungles and great cities only to watch it all be destroyed by his son. Kentarch wondered if the Sith could ever be like their ancient predecessors, content with their own kingdom and subjects to rule over instead of ashes.

The shuttle touched down on the surface. The black cloak figure exited quickly and vanished into the shadows of the ancient structures. Discretion was of the utmost importance, rival Sith Lords would be searching for old trinkets or reliquaries that they believed would increase their personal power. Here deep within the old tombs and ruins, the Sith liked to settle scores, and remove potential rivals. If a fellow Sith did not kill you, the monsters twisted by the Dark Side could easily do the job. Darth Kentarch would thus need to tread carefully if he wanted to secure the tome he was looking for unnoticed. The ancient Sith knowledge was better in his hands anyways.

 

[Khamul Kryze]

Trials of Typhojem

Tags: Lord Letifer , Vector Monk , Maestus , Darth Kentarch , Dalos Cameron, Darth Ptolemis

Loadout: Mandalore's Lament, Regret, beskar'gam

The Sith were looters, they always had been. They looked to their history, instead of the future. Perhaps Khamul was guilty of that as well, in his own way. His quest for the mask was rooted in that very same search into the past, though he would tell himself that he was different. On Asog, however, it was not a matter of clinging to history. His appearance here was about maintaining an advantage, and keeping potential rivals at bay. Though he had faith in his own abilities, Khamul knew just how far the other members of the NSO would go to eliminate him from the greater equation. As such, he would undermine where he could, and should he pick up a trinket or two along the way, it would simply be a bonus.

The shuttle touched down not far from the temple, kicking up just enough dust to let the others know that Khamul had arrived. He exited the shuttle with a small contingent of Death's Hand, making his way toward the temple entrance. His escort was small, but it would be more than enough. Khamul had other plans, after all, and the rest of Death's Hand were doing their part. For now, the small cadre of Mandalorians would be more than adequate.

Khamul pushed past several slaves as he approached the temple, arriving just in time to see the three unfortunate workers go up in flames. The Sith of old knew to guard their secrets, and it appeared that this ancient structure would be no different. The Hellhound of Mandalore listened intently as Vector made his observations. He knew little of the man, but having such a historian would likely prove fruitful in today's endeavors, and Khamul would take care to listen to his findings carefully.

Not long after the man had spoke, Khamul turned to Letifer, the man that had previously dared to attack him the last time they met. He would have put the man down then and there, but the Brotherhood had use for such ruthless operatives, as troublesome as they could be. For now, he would simply tolerate the man's presence until he was no longer of use.

"Patience. If we rush into this, we will risk losing whatever prize may be hiding within."

The statement may have come across as patronizing, but Khamul did not care. He wasn't here to be cordial. He was here to get things done.

 

[Lord Letifer]

Lord Letifer | New Sith Order
Grand Temple Entrance
Vector Monk | Khamul Kryze | Spindle ​

The slaves paid no heed to the archeologist, they were wrapped in flames within seconds. The smoldering bodies of the ignorant stood as a grave reminder to all present the traps left behind by the ancient Sith. To Letifer, it was a reminder that good help was hard to find. The others would do well to take this as an example, no ruin was as it seemed and every step you took could be your last here. In the same token, the Lord of the Sith would tolerate nothing short of success and would sacrifice as many fools as necessary in order to attain it. Failure and treason shared the same word in the Old Tongue, such was the wisdom of the ancients, such was the thoughts of Letifer.

Just as he prepared to speak he felt the encroachment of darkness, not quite the shadow mind you but the raw potency of hatred and anger unfurled, the savage storm, a force of nature that accompanied the unstoppable disasters capable of upheaving entire peoples. That presence, that feeling, it was none other than the Mandalorian Sith Lord Khamul Kryze himself, Master of Death’s Hand.

The Lord of the Sith crossed his arms and stood tall, no weakness could be shown, not to him. His snide remark would not show upon his person, he would simply acknowledge what was and what is. There would be a time when things changed.

“Of course, Lord Kryze. Perhaps his Lordship has knowledge on how we may gain entry? ”

A stab, but a sly one. Interpreted different ways that could not be acted upon without appearing impulsive and weak in controlling one’s emotion. He knew he had earned the Sith’s disfavor as of late but could not risk open Kaggath until he had gained enough power to challenge him.

The darkened visor of the Sith Lord fell upon the balding dome of the Sith archeologist, a terrible glare honed in on his person from underneath the masked veil that held his grim visage. His vocabulator sparked to life, uttering forth his decree in acknowledgment of @Vector Monk’s query.

“Do it. I want access to the inside of the temple.”

He stepped away, cloak flowing at his back as the arid wind caught his stride. Marching with purpose he approached a relative newcomer, a face unseen. His veiled eyes fell upon Spindle with intense study.

“Are you ready? Apprentice.”

 

[Spindle]

TAG: Lord Letifer | Vector Monk | Khamul Kryze

Only a few meters away, perched on a crate of supplies, the woosh of slaves erupting to flames had captured the newcomer's attention. "So that's what that does. Fascinating," she breathed, a black-tipped fingernail scratching notes into a journal of questionable leathers and vellum. The notes were a concoction of crude sketches and even cruder words, etched in her own coded creation of shorthand. Knowledge, after all, was power. Power that drew Spindle like a corroded moth to a flame.

Now, if she could replicate whatever had rendered those poor slaves to embers, maybe even transfer that effect - it'd be a lovely security measure for hidden notes. Or maybe a brooch? Her mind glittered with a web of possibilities, fueled by the promise of future discoveries. Starting off so strong - how delightful!

"Hmm? Oh, yes, of course." Blinking once or twice as new arrivals turned from passive notations to active awareness, the paper-thin woman slid off her throne of a crate like a marionette pulled to life by its strings. "Ready whenever, Master." The honorific held a strange weight on her tongue, the position of apprentice being a relatively new development for the Vahla.

A curious gaze drifted toward the others. The armored fellow she had little interest in, simply greeted with a respectful nod, her focus already zeroing in on the archeologist, eager to see how he went about translating the ur-Kittât. "Impeccable. You simply must tell me how you came to study such a dialect."

 

[Vector Monk]

Lord Letifer Khamul Kryze Spindle

GREAT TEMPLE OF TYPHOJEM
UNKNOWN REGIONS
​

“Do it. I want access to the inside of the temple.”

"At once, my lord."

Vector wasted little time getting to work while Letifer and his mysterious companion in mandalorian armor loomed over him. He placed a monocle over one eye and activated its built-in spectrometer. Their cold impatience did not appear to bother the Imperial specialist however when Letifer's young apprentice inquired about his familiarity with the forbidden Old Tongue he turned and smiled.

"A fellow scholar?" Monk arched an eyebrow, "How charming."

He turned back to continue his examination of the cuneiform.

"I studied ancient Sith cultures on Dromund Kaas, madame. That's where the Imperial Reclamation Service recruited me. What an honor! It has been my fortune to oversee dig sites on worlds like Korriban and Malachor V, even Yavin's forest moon. Of course, that was another life. Now I serve the Final Dawn with my work on Project Tantiss."

There was a cheerful nature to Captain Monk which seemed at odds with the temple's bleak surroundings. Several runes excited him in particular and the archeologist mumbled in ur-Kittât. Without any special connection to the Force, Vector would never be able to access their true power, but he could decipher the surface meaning not unlike a Sith academic.

"Do you see this symbol, lord?" he directed their attention to a faded inscription, "I believe it is an ancient rendering of Qo. And this one here...Kots. It means to break, or perhaps unlock. 'To unlock the path...'"

Monk snapped his fingers.

"Yun," the archeologist laughed, "Of course, classic Sith numerology. Only through the combined power of a master and apprentice can this temple be opened."

 

[Khamul Kryze]

Trials of Typhojem

Tags: Lord Letifer , Vector Monk , Maestus , Darth Kentarch , Dalos Cameron, Darth Ptolemis , Spindle

Loadout: Mandalore's Lament, Regret, beskar'gam

Khamul chose to ignore the sly jab, his attention staying on the temple as Letifer spoke. He was never one to let such remarks slide, but he knew that Letifer's desire to undermine his competitors would eventually be his own undoing. Give him enough rope, and the man would hang himself. There would be plenty of time to deal with him. For now... they had to get into the temple.

As Vector Monk conveyed his interpretation, Khamul found himself growing frustrated. Of course, master and apprentice... the Sith of old truly wished to force their rules onto others, even in death. The hubris was sickening. Yet, they would have to adhere to the rules of these long dead Sith if they wished to find their way to the prize.

"Good work, Vector."

It was only then that he turned his attention toward the man that he so strongly wanted to kill.

"There's your answer. Perhaps you and your apprentice would like to do the honors?"

He motioned toward the temple as he spoke, his tone carrying a certain cold sarcasm as he jabbed back at the man. Solipsis had done well to maintain a certain competitive air within the New Sith Order, which had been both bane and boon. The Sith would have to step over each other in order to rise to power, which would inevitably mean that some would die in the process. It didn't matter in the end... eventually, all would bow to the might of Death's Hand.

 

[The Messenger]

​

​

Thud.

The sand dusted metal beneath the man's feet resounded throughout the empty chamber in an echoing roar. Sand and dust kicked up around him from the millennia undisturbed chamber that had fallen into disrepair, the floor a mixture of sandstone and ancient metal. Above him the ravine that he had fallen from, a chase that led deep into this abandoned structure. Metal supports braced the ceiling, obvious signs of strain from before the ceiling collapsed inward with a sudden ravine dumping it's contents within.

There was air of silence that followed as the surroundings of Dalos Cameron settled. The Dark Side was powerful here, it called to him. The siren song sang a sweet sweet lullaby that resonated deep within, it tailored to his thirst for knowledge for his desire to know the truth.

A flapping of wings, to his right a large chasm with a broken bridge. On his left, the continuance of some ancient subsection of the Great Temple or at the very least one of the nearby Sith structures.

​

 

[The Human]

Personal Equipment: Force Armour and Mask, Two Lightsabers (x) (x) ,2x Nadir Repeating Blasters
TAG: The Messenger

The feeling of something pressuring his body, he could feel it. Was this what they considered the Dark Side of the Force? He was almost certain of it, it oozed portions of life and death upon him. The fluttering of wings nearby made his eyes glance quickly broken bridge from afar, giving an aura of belonging and possibly desire. Walking towards that way, instead of the subsections for now, he carefully walked over to the old yet aging broken bridge. It most likely been here for several hundred years, he had no idea what had caused it yet his eyes glanced up to the creatures that flapped their wings. Breeding grounds perhaps for these creatures, possible sith spawn? Or were they creatures that inhabit what they could consider home?

While those question did ponder, he did slowly look down into the deep chasm. What purpose would a bridge need to exist here? Allowing his Force Signature to be felt once more, he reached out into the Force towards the Chasm below to sense anything nearby and then to glance across to the other side of the bridge. What possibly was over there? Could he even make it across? Dalos was not a proper Force User still in any regard, all his powers had to have a bit of help...jumping may be out of his forte though the attempt, can exist.

 

[Darth Ptolemis]

Atmosphere I.

EXCAVATION OF ASOG

Tags are open.​

Half the ignited flare had been spent by the time Orlov reached the bottom of the spiral staircase. The glowstick's twirling fumes hugged the walls and glided up towards the surface as he stood for a moment, moving his only source of light around to better register his surroundings. The narrow stairwell opened into a grandiose, spacious dripstone cave; the air was cold and humid, chalky and sulfuric at the same time. The drops of limestone-filtered water falling from overhead had created a randomized, yet strangely entrancing melody that filled the deep void with its fragile ambience.

Taking out his datapad once again, he records a voice memo. He lowers his voice, yet the fracture of the age-old silence still resonates strongly through the Force. – The stone spiral lead down into a cavern system. - The echoes were vast. Distant. Foreboding. – According to my datapad, I am at least 100 meters [~328 ft] below the surface. The presence of speleothems reveal that there used to be water on the surface and a healthy climate. – He crouches down, the maroon flames casting deep shadows between the stone pillars. – A single path paved with flat stones lead forward. A slight decline in elevation can be observed as the cave continues into the abyss. – With a click, he saves the recording and slides the device back into his pocket. The emptiness calls out to him. He takes off his hood as he continues his journey into Asog's underworld, slowly disappearing into the dark expanse.​

 

[Lord Letifer]

Lord Letifer | New Sith Order
Grand Temple Entrance
Vector Monk | Khamul Kryze | Spindle ​

"Good."

The Sith Lord uttered to his apprentice under his masked visage, his vocabulator spurring out mechanical tones hauntingly distorting his very voice. His attention turned once again to the expert Vector Monk whom summoned him with discovery.

"Do you see this symbol, lord?" he directed their attention to a faded inscription, "I believe it is an ancient rendering of Qo. And this one here...Kots. It means to break, or perhaps unlock. 'To unlock the path...'"

Letifer leaned in, listening intently.

"Yun," the archeologist laughed, "Of course, classic Sith numerology. Only through the combined power of a master and apprentice can this temple be opened."

The Sith Lord stepped back and examined the doorway once more,

"Of course. The wisdom of the ancients."

"There's your answer. Perhaps you and your apprentice would like to do the honors?"​

His vision branched off, head slightly facing back over his shoulder to glare out at Lord Kryze from behind.

"So be it. Apprentice come."

The Lord of the Sith extended his hand, stretching out into the empyrean. The first several attempts before were met with failure, traps, and setbacks. The door could not be moved by physical exertion, could not be destroyed by normal means, and in the end could not be swayed by manipulation of the Force. The inner mechanics were in tune with the flow of the empyrean by sense, he could feel it as if his own hands were touching it, where one movement went another came with it. Cause and effect, a safety tripped each time an attempt to manipulate the ancient workings of the door was made. With the power of two, one could work off the other, moving through gears and shifting stone to gain access to the temple.

The wisdom of the ancients.

 

[The Messenger]

​

​

The broken bridge was a temptation to glory, a path to power plagued by setback.

What would he do? Risk it all and leap, or go back an try for the other corridors? The dark chasm echoed as dust fell from the edge as Dalos Cameron peered down.

What would he do?

​

​

Darth Ptolemis wandered into the caverns deep below the once thriving city of ancient legend, the signs of civilization began to peel away with the rock as he decended deeper and deeper into the underworld. What would discourage many was nothing but aesthetic to the Sith, the Dark Side was strong here, the pull uncanny as something called to him. A siren song unsung, felt, but unheard.

The sounds of rocks shuffling ahead in the darkened cave system gave warning, something was down here. The movements sporatic, feral, a sithspawn perhaps? Something more?

​

 

[The Human]

Personal Equipment: Force Armour and Mask, Two Lightsabers (x) (x) ,2x Nadir Repeating Blasters
TAG: The Messenger

The bridge blocking his path, was no doubt one of the most simplest but least easy he could have run into. Many Force Users he encountered had shown abilities of jumping far gaps, pulling objects towards them to create a pathway, lifting whole obstacles out of their way! Here though...he really had none of that. While his armor gave him some abilities and allowed portions of his forgotten power to assist him, he could not truly use powers he had no knowledge of. Glancing around the area, the Human started to formulate a plan in his mind.

Going over towards the right pillar along the bridge, he noticed that it was rather sturdy and was made of rather strong material, heavy as well. On the other side, was a small dip in the bridges landscape that he could exploit if he was able to reach over there. Formulating an idea, he activated both lightsabers and gently touched the pillar against them, noticing it burned the pillar and started to cut through. It would be a slow process but he could be able to cut down the pillar. Pulling the lightsabers away, he then walked over towards the other pillar and deactivated the lightsabers, only to reactivate them close by and jumping up, feeling some resistance as the lightsabers drastically halted his descent downward but slid down till he was on his feet.

The stone here could be used to slow his fall if he severely screws up and falls somewhere. It would be difficult but doable. The Darkness called upon Dalos, like a tempting mistress in the night, waiting to seduce another prey into her spiders web. The Human was answering that call, unable to resist the urge of what lay ahead. Going over to the right stone pillar, he pressed against the pillar and cut near the base, taking several minutes to cut almost all the way through till it gave way and collapsed onto the ground, part of it sticking out near the bridge area. Deactivating the lightsabers, he glanced to the sides and climbed on top of the now collapsed pillar and looked far towards the other end of the bridge. It was possible to get to the other side...the question was, could be make it?

Standing on the pillar, he breathed in and took the chance, making a sprint as he felt the pillar shift near the end and leaped forward, both lightsabers in hand as his lower legs smashed into the edge on the other side and made him start to collapse downwards. Activating the left lightsaber, he jabbed it into the left of the wall to slow his fall, his stomach now pressing against the edge. Jabbing the unignited end of his right lightsaber repeatedly into the ground for leverage, he started to pull himself up till he was on the other side and deactivated the other lightsaber, flipping till he was on his back and breathing rather hard.

That was close. The Human rather not meet his end by throwing himself into a pit of unending doom. Slowly sitting up, he clipped the lightsabers back onto his belt and pulled himself up onto the bridge portion and then started to walk, exploring the other side of this bridge area. Getting back to the other side was now very difficult, so he will have to find a way around afterwards.

 

[Darth Ptolemis]

Atmosphere I.

EXCAVATION OF ASOG

The Messenger ​

The flare's luminosity had diminished significantly, its output slowly dwindling to the strength of a candle. As he walked deeper into the unknown, the neonate Sith's surroundings gradually left behind any semblance of being sentient-made; the paved path had long devolved into a mere winding crack between slippery rock formations. As he tosses the faintly burning torch to the side with the intent of lighting another, he hears something and immediately freezes, listening intently. The flare makes a soft noise as it lands between two rocks and casts two slits of red; one forward, and one backwards.

The trap he willingly walked into seems to have begun closing in on him. He shuffles and crouches down quietly behind a larger stalagmite, readying his macrobinoculars. He unclips it from his left thigh, and with a click he switches on night vision mode. Being so deep underground, deprived of any natural light, even a night vision binocular would be useless; however the flare still pulses with light, although barely. He lifts the lenses to his eyes and peers into the darkness behind him, then ahead of him, all the while readying his scatter pistol. ​

 

[Spindle]

TAG: Lord Letifer | Vector Monk | Khamul Kryze

"Oh they teach it there? Marvelous, I'll have to pay them a visit." The joints in her knees let loose a sickening pop as she lowered herself to a deep crouch to observe the door herself. Long hair draped over her back and arms was reminiscent of a creature one'd expect to crawl out of a well.

"Specifically master and apprentice? Curious." The cogs in Spindle's head whirled at a new puzzle. How would the doorway differentiate between master and apprentice? What would happen if two masters or two apprentices were to attempt it? Did the apprentice have to be a student of that particular master? The specificities of Sith ritual were fascinating to no end.

She paused, her wandering gaze shifting between the Mandalorian and her master. One could cut the tension - or perhaps resentment? - with a knife. Her mouth that'd previously been open with the oos and ahs of discovery now closed in a tight line as she looked between the two. Half anticipating a fight, her weight shifted from heel to toe.

"So be it. Apprentice come."

"Aah - yes!" Just like that, the moment was over, at least for the moment. Spindle rose to her full height with another pop, this one in her hips. Mirroring her master, a bony, stained hand extended toward the door, fingers flexing with curiosity as they came into contact with the empyrean. Dark eyes widened with excitement as stone shifted to allow them passage. "Shall we?"