Eyes Upon the Red Sands [Primeval | Silver Sanctum]

[Boethiah]

Korriban had once been graced by the Primordial Marches under the Aj'Rou regime, their armies conquered the Sith graveyard during a time of turmoil, and since then turmoil has followed. The nature of this world was one of darkness, and death; it serving as the final resting place for Dark Lords and Kings of the Sith.

Perhaps the Primeval too, in some ways, had found a resting place here. It was truly one of the last significant world to fall under their rule, and had become a breeding ground for rivalries amongst the Warlords. Whether or not its conquest had any sway in the eventual downfall, it became quite clear that Korriban would always be a flashpoint for galactic crises.

Although many found comfort in their collapse, there were those wise enough to realize that without a Host Lord, that these zealots have become extremists.

They are not afraid to attack, finding themselves with impunity now that they cannot be tied to a specific region in space. They needn't obey laws or customs except those which cater to their ambitions and beliefs. The attack on Mirial is only minor example of what outcomes may arise from an unleashed religious cult. Order has turned to disorder, and the pandemonium which follows will only continue to destroy the very ideals which their enemies fight for...

Boethiah stepped into the sand with great interest. Her heterchromatic eyes observing all that she saw before her. History... Memories... Rattling her thoughts; everything she saw was all that she saw in her dreams and visions. The Valley of the Dark Lords paramount before her, a testament to the followers' obedience to their masters.

Returning her gaze to those around her, a streak of gravity commanded her visage. The young witch falling to her knees and placing her hands into the cold sands below her, peering into the cracked ground. "Do you sense it?" Her lips curved into a soft smile, "there is a persistent presence which looms over the sands." The smile was quickly replaced by a more impartial expression.

"This world yet lives, but it no longer calls out. They've ignored it for so long, and it has witnessed so much. The destruction of an entire species, and now it must carry the burden of their bones. The soil a reflection of the bloodshed." Pushing herself back onto her feet, Boethiah strode for the valley's entrance, ignorant towards anything else this world may have to offer. It did have so much more to offer.

[member="Nyla Crow"] | [member="Yasindra Quorr"] | [member="Orkamaat"] | [member="Loxa Visl"]

Spoiler: OOC

To any SSC writers that may want to join. I'd ask to please not add too many writers, I am introducing some friends -- new to the board -- to roleplay, and Korriban is always an exciting planet on many people's lists. Plus we're finding a new character here. So it may overwhelm some to have too much going on otherwise.

Spoiler: OOC

However; we are welcoming to having anyone in the SSC showing up regardless. To do whatever it they may seek to accomplish.

 

[Orkamaat]

Orkamaat peered at the sky with displeasure, reflecting a glare of similar magnitude back at the sun. He'd stopped paying visits to desolate, scorched wastelands like this one for a number of good reasons a long time ago, and chief among them was likely the unbearable temperature that usually made life a living hell. Granted, the rangy man didn't have much life left in him to speak of, but it only meant that he was intent on cherishing it further, not subjecting it to the untold horrors of a heat stroke.

Still, he had an obligation to his offspring; a duty, even, and one he wasn't wont to shirk any time soon.

With a sigh, the Priest caught up with the rest of their motley crew, tailing at the end just in case. Korriban wasn't simply inhospitable, after all; it was a veritable death trap, and most of his companions didn't look like they would appreciate an encounter with the local wildlife. Or survive one, for that matter.

[member="Boethiah"] spoke the truth, Orkamaat realized as he spread himself out, his mind oozing and climbing across the shifting rock and sand in their vicinity. There was something here, something that had stirred the moment they had set foot on the world, and it was now searching for them just as they for it.

The distinct feeling of being watched sent a shiver down his spine, but he refused to turn around in a sudden bout of superstition; as if the act itself would make it true. On some level, the Priest knew he was being silly, but once the thought had been sown, weeding it out became nearly impossible.

"We need to move quickly," he spoke softly, just loud enough to be heard by Sha'Matri at his side. Alarming everyone was wont to instill panic, and people running around recklessly was the last thing they needed right now.

[member="Loxa Visl"] | [member="Nyla Crow"] | [member="Yasindra Quorr"]​

 

[Blackthorne]

Despite the presence of the unrelenting sun, twin suns may as well have been high in the sky for the blaze of saffron eyes within the hood of the Sha'Matri. Korriban was not a world she had personally set foot on before but the entities that had once inhabited her vessel and now resided within her daughter were well familiar with its sprawling sands and historic sites. Curious they should be lead here out of all places - far away from home and the safety of Wayland. Any orthodox parent might have declined the young one's desire to be here but as time would continue to tell Loxa and Orkamaat were anything but orthodox.

Safety did not make an entity truly grow. Strife, challenge, tribulations, conflict; these were the ingredients to making one strong and enlightened. Of all the years of just those very things Loxa sat at the precipice of her own days watching the next generation begin to take root. What blooms would become of these little seeds she could hardly even imagine.

Pale gaze settled on the back of [member="Boethiah"] with a thought to which spirit now influenced her whims. Both beings she knew to have a great deal of history here, but where Inhix had been a fickle being of her pursuits to follow only where they would be of benefit to her, Anja had been a woman of great drive and complex authority. Whatever morsel of gain to be found here she was certain either presence could, would have some reason to track. And Boethiah herself? A curious creature that evolved every day under the Sha'Matri's watchful gaze. Her own machinations had only slowly began to surface in this new life of freedom gained with her rebirth.

Loxa was content to feed this curiosity, even if it meant traversing realms of beasts and ghouls and old Sith Lord Spirits.

She glanced briefly to [member="Orkamaat"] before setting off to chaperon the girl. No longer burdened by Korangar the Sha'Matri was once again strong, able, and ready to test the limits of where her strength and power lay now that she no longer carried the spirits of her former Master and Host Lord.

 

[Dune Rhur]

@Boethiah@Orkamaat@Loxa Visl

OOC: I'd like a meet and greet style interaction, perhaps some philosophical debate. That's if you all desire to do that. Out of respect for Boe, I'm not forcing it. This is a tomb world and DR is an archaeologist after all.

Dune Rhur picked his way carefully among the ruins of the Sith Academy. Months ago, the ancient structure had been mostly pulled down. That hadn't sat well with him. Yes, k'lor'slugs had come out in droves but there were ways of dealing with them. Now, the knowledge that may have been there could be lost forever.

As he searched, he kept his cowl pulled up against the beating sun. The Bith would occasionally stop for a mouthful of now lukewarm water from his canteen. Dune sighed with frustration, finding merely broken bits of stone. Even Dark Side knowledge served it's purpose in helping the guardians of Light protect against it.

Underneath a slab, partially covered, he saw a stairway leading down. Perhaps it was the library, he mused while standing over it. With an effort he reached out the Force. In this Dark place, it was harder to mime the gesture of lifting the slab though he managed with a grunt to set it aside.

Up from the depths came a musty, old smell. Dune smiled as he recognised the scent of old books and scrolls. He mounted the steps, heading down as he cracked a glow rod from his belt. Who knew what may have survived!

 

[Yasindra Quorr]

"It's very dangerous there, mistress", the soothing voice spoke through its various speakers. Andrew, the AI of the luxurious yacht which hovered within Korriban's orbit, had been whining like this the entire travel to the planet. While it was programmed to always agree with its owner, Yasindra, she could never quite get rid of his paranoid tendencies. She'd muse about how annoying she found it, and how she could surely get rid of it, but she never did. Something about Andrew's nature kept her on her toes, and she didn't want to change her only conversational partner.

Fortunately for her, however, she had brought someone else along to keep her socially inept mind going. She had asked Arian back in Roviane if he would accompany her, and to her delight, he accepted. Of course, this was to protect her ... that's what she told herself, at least. In truth, she simply wanted a companion here- the faintest notion of a friend; one that wasn't built by her, at least. Well ... not yet.

"Yes, yes, Andrew ... you've said so a hundred times already", the Arkanian mused back at her AI, staring intently at the monitors on the bridge of her ship. Through them, she saw the world below, and wondered to herself why she was stupid enough to have come here. "Dangerous and cold and dry and miserable. But it'll be worth it ...- Might be we can find some technology here, and that will surely benefit us all. Besides, Arian is here, so we're entirely safe. I hope ..."

Despite her comforting words, she grew wary enough to put the yacht's defenses on maximum, and her eyes darted towards the various radars mounted near her, just to be sure. One can't be too careful these days, especially near a planet like this one; she had heard of its history. Though she held little belief in spirits and ghosts and phantasms, the rumours and myths still plagued her mind. What if ...

| [member="Arian Lenar"] |​

 

[thegreatbeyonder]

Sitting at the helm of a Stardream-class was a dream come true for a spacer boy such as Arian. The state-of-the-art vessel had its toys for him to play with, but what was most impressive to him was the sheer simplicity. Elegant, yet minimal in design. Not to mention, it did so by utilizing the most basic and well established forms of technology, too. There were no unnecessary fancy displays or features for the pilot. All of that was left to the passengers.

A major problem -- at least the way he saw it -- was that too many starship companies focused on wow factor when a true spacer only cares about getting to and from their destination in the most efficient manner possible. Especially when you're hauling cargo; possibly illegal cargo at that. Nonetheless, it wasn't his ship thus none of it was his problem. Still. It couldn't hurt to see what this baby was all about. Unfortunately, Ysaindra's conversation with herself served as an immediate distraction.

What is she on about? He wondered, having no idea why the woman was talking to herself. Of course he hadn't realize she managed to fit the vessel with an A.I.

In fact; A.I. are illegal in most government-controlled sectors. That didn't mean he cared, it just made it unexpected. "Talking to someone?" Arian inquired as he walked back into the lounge, resting his eyes upon the pleasant sight that was the Arkanian woman. "Or am I suffering from space madness?" He chuckled. Space madness was real, actually. If you stared out into hyperspace long enough it'd make you go crazy.

He didn't want to talk about that.

 

[Rain]

Cato Nemodia
One Year Ago

These lands were living mutiny. This was not nature’s rule.

Even the mountains had steps in their sides; concessions to hikers with weekends to burn, allotted to them by their employers and unjust, casual slavers. It had been difficult for Rain to find something legitimately ancient; that stood as the Mother had made it.

‘Men could not climb it,’ the Nemoidians had declared in times when the planet was more hostile, when they themselves fitter, more able to tame it, before their luxury had made them fat, weak. These days, such ventures were rarely considered at all anymore. What would be the point? But Dathomir had been unforgiving, and Rain had climbed rock with far less purchase in far wetter conditions.

In the early morning hours, the savage had walked the bridge city’s massive wires and began his ascent up the steep face of the mountain pillar, calloused hands and feet clinging to a surface polished bald to a shine by ages and ages of wind.

It would not be easy, despite his prowess. A fingernail lost to a misjudged grasp. Muscles screaming in agony as Rain held pressed against the stone for a rest that cost more than could be gained. The spirits beckoned him onward, offered themselves unto him for fuel…and yet, he could not understand why. Why he felt compelled to do this in the first place. What story would be awarded.

There was something to be gleaned in the knowing, a truth to crawl out from beneath the turning of rocks.

By afternoon, he had reached the pinnacle, sore and bruised but the sun had been veiled by the clouds, and the winds were cool and this momentary respite could be its own reward. A small, occupied nest waited before him, the mother and keeper out on the hunt. Rain snatched one of the eggs, devouring it down with a sense of entitlement. He, a clever cuckolder, then reached into his satchel and withdrew that other egg -- the lone survivor to an eradicated nest that he himself had destroyed – and placed it within the new one. A fish out of water, like Rain.

What judgment awaited them both?

From atop the mountain, Rain could see for miles and miles, clouds framing the world below. He could still see the Jedi Academy – its rooftop garden with a monument to its dead matriarch in rebellion against change and time and the way of things. He could see Lira, and Hal, in their silent worship, a quiet protest of their own.

And he could hear the wind as it passed through the bridge cities, like little green beans supported in their sheathes, creating a song, while not true, while not natural, was not entirely…unworthwhile.

Rain’s hand moved over the rock face, revealing an engraving in the stone:

“Ken was here.”​

Ken, apparently more worth remembering than the countless beings that had been here prior. That would be here since.

Rain found it all very crass.

~^~​

Korriban
Now

How is it that he would wind up here?

The days of the temple ended. Lira died. Such is the way of things. Now he is here.

This disgusting land.

This rolling desert, hot beneath bare feet. Still air, save for the periodic breeze, passing noiselessly through nothing. No vegetation, no song – This was not the way a planet sounded. The Witchboy scowled, his hand tensing around his crooked, but not imperfect, spear. The weapon was as it was. This planet, however, had been wronged.

Rain of Yawning Hel Clan peered into the Dreaming. He clicked his tongue, looking for a world beyond sight. And to the stars?

Your Horoscope for Today:
None. There is no harmony. All is ugly and false.​

He reigned over the sky, Father did – Over Korriban – She, beaten into silence, into scabs where flora could not be nurtured. Betrayed by sons and aliens, carving, like tattoos, Books of Days out into her flesh in the vain worship of Father’s history. To be immortal like He. That damned patriarch and his stupid, lost bastards.

Rain’s heart yearned for Dathomir – There was nothing good outside of it…but it was for this reason, he had to stay gone.

He was male, after all. There was just something wrong with him.

Descending the dune, the Witch clicked his tongue again. Something.

A change in the environment…not in vision, not even in the stirrings of the soul, and yet…

Primed echolocation tickled auditory centers, painting in their absence upon the terrain a trio of colorless lizards, moving for ambush. Rain readied for combat, drawing his knife.

…and the hssiss suddenly stopped.

Rain’s eyes literally saw nothing, though they locked in challenge to those of the hssiss. The animal squirmed in discomfort of the gaze, unaccustomed to being seen.

It fled, the coward.

Rain recognized there was something discordant inherent to his being – Something so toxic it killed planets and rotted the song out of the universe.

But there is nothing ever so foul as to not be food for something else.

These creatures were sycophants and servants, cowed beneath Father’s hierarchies of Order and Fear, so low it defied its very nature.

Unnatural, it did not deserve Life.

The hssisss roared in terror as Rain leapt upon its back, tearing into its body with spear and knife. The Witchboy sang, but with Korriban’s song so absent of harmony, the mouth-music came out purely as grunts and roars midst the ruckus of gouges and stabs and animal outcry in the face of a miserable end. Blood poured from the lizard, but not alone…Soul Ichor drained from its very veins to be absorbed by the savage assailant.

“<Fall, creature – and feed the earth!>," Rain inadvertently plagiarized Jaheira, an Easter Egg for fans of Baldur’s Gate II.

The Dathomiri stood from the dead animal with a stomp, grounding the stolen Force Energy into Korriban. He would turn, finding the creature’s mates had attempted to run themselves. His grip tightened, blood-soaked instruments and countenance. He roared in harmony with what remained of Her. In this land without song, murder could be the only music.

Mother Korriban; bullied into abortion, then abandoned. Curse forever that awful Light Horuset.

[member=Tashkut]​

 

[Nyla Crow]

Korriban. The legendary planet of the Sith. Resting place of Marka Ragnos, Freedon Nadd, Naga Sadow, Ajunta Pall...

Mind you, Nyla didn't know who any of those people were, but they were names she recognized from the precious few scraps of translated Sith documents she could find.

Despite the lifeless, barren appearance of the planet, the prospective Sith could feel the truth in Boethiah's words. This planet was alive. Beasts all around, yes, there was that. The rudimentary A.I. aboard The Crow's Beak had informed her of various species; the Shyrack, the Tuk'ata, and...something much, much larger, that it couldn't identify. Oh yes, there was life here.

But that wasn't what Nyla was interested in, not at all.

This place was a Dark Side Nexus, and even the relatively untrained Acolyte could sense that. There was power her. Unimaginable power. She could feel it calling to her, whispering forth from the tombs of the Dark Lords, ready for anyone strong or clever enough to claim it for themselves. And Nyla knew, in her heart and soul, that she was worthy.

Nyla did not once, as she followed behind her companion, towards the Valley of the Dark Lords, one of the most dangerous places in the galaxy, consider that maybe that was a character flaw of hers.

 

[Arage Bao]

Behind the dunes a black pillar of smoke and ashes rose.

Courtesy of a fighter crashing into the ground, blasted out of the sky by the Silver Sanctum wing-escort that patrolled these parts of space. Tashkut was not aware of any of this, of course. He did not know what the Silver Sanctum was, that it had taken Korriban from the raging hordes of the Primeval just a few months ago and that now the Light was in control of the birthplace of the Sith.

All he knew that after a long, long trek to visit the holy places of his ancestors… that he had been shot out of the sky for failing to display the proper authentication codes.

Most of his equipment was useless now. He had a canteen, his Sith sword forged in the bloody fires of Sarqoz’ forge, a good pair of boots and the ripped piece of textile wrapped around his head like a scarf, to protect his eyes from the raging sandstorms and to shield his bald head from the scathing touch of Horuset the Limunated One.

A grimace came and went behind that scarf. Tash had not even been able to complete the proper rites and commit the necessary sacrifices, before stepping foot on the holy ground.

Horus have mercy. The quickest of prayers sent, before Tashkut continued forward his walk - there, in the distance he could barely make out the structures of some kind. Obscured by the dusty wind, but clearly there.

Temples? He did not know what to expect, though there was one thing he knew to expect.

Whoever had shot his fighter down would not just let him strut around this place - it did not matter if this was his people’s sacred world, clearly, someone else owned it now. And they would sent scouts, warrior to hunt any stragglers down.

That was how his people would have acted.

Anyone strong enough to claim Pesegam… No, impossible. Tash shook his head, before setting his jaw and continuing onwards.

Onwards… onwards.. Onwards.

It was impossible to properly track the passage of time. His people had long since forgotten the proper journey Horuset made round Pesegam, but it had been many steps forward before he came across a visage that made him blink not once, but twice.

A young… humanoid, gender obscured by the rolling dust clouds bursting up, riding on top of a fierce-

Impossible.

Eyes wide. The equally young Sith stared at the battle, but more specifically at the apparitation straight out of their annals: a Hzzissz.

It was said that they came into existence when Horuset’s sister, Alafra, the iridescent sixth moon of Pesegam, had shared with him her loneliness. Ever so humorous the golden one had caught some of the moonlight and mixed it with the sands of deserts, creating the first of the Hzzissz.

Or so it was said.

They were a myth. Not even the most zealous of Shapers truly believed they existed now or ever had… but here there was one… in the progress of being annihilated by a lanky youth.

An insistent screech pierced through the air as black iron brushed past its alchemized scabbard.

Amber started to seep into Tash’s eyes. Hunger. Strong emotions reeled through the air, anger pure, disgust and even fear -- no, no, not from the humanoid. The legendary Hzzissz… it felt fear? Disgraceful.

The Sith Pureblood sneered and rose from his crouched position.

It was time.

[member="Rain"]​

 

[Rain]

There was nothing subtle about the crashing of a ship. Even through the bloodlust, the noise of slaughter, the collision’s thunder could not be ignored as it tore through the planet’s timid whispering and quaked underfoot.

The spirits were not loyal here, Rain knew, but he was not without instincts honed in the wooded nightmare of the Dathomir forests, her treacherous swamps and feral jungles. That predator in the bush – he could feel its eyes upon him.

The amber drained from Rain’s irises, his presence in combat receding, leaving behind an automaton of flesh to dispassionately drive his spear into the skull of the hssiss. With milky white eyes and sociopathic disinterest, the biological machine observed as the lizard, pinned to the ground by its head, thrashed its body in desperate effort to get free…to hasten the end of its own life.

He was Dreaming. Like jade cigarette smoke, like his breath in Winter, the faint apparition of the savage would appear before [member="Tashkut"], then evaporate. A ghost to his left. To his right. Slightly above him. Briefly, and then no more.

The corporeal Rain reached out with his hand, a hssiss of soul ichor rising from the corpse of its earthly doppleganger. It began to approach the Trueblood, but vanished midstep. His hand resting lightly on the crooked spear, Rain turned to face the newcomer, a handprint of blood caked across his face.

 

[Doctor Agnusdei]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aigkKwrdEmo​

The darkness of Korriban was unlike anything in the galaxy. Some planets, like Felucia, exuded a primal, wild darkness. Others are altered, changed through action. Dromund Kaas had been wreathed in darkness, yet now it bore the stain of death across it's face. To some it felt better, to others it felt artificial.

Korriban felt natural to many. It was less wild, more refined. A darkness many millennia in the making. It felt less like the built, constructed aura of Dromund Kaas. It felt more like natural rock; a cliff face carved and etched by time and by hand. Less a structure and more akin to a sculpture. A work of art, something to be revered and admired. True darkness.

For the figure robed in black calmly strolling across the landscape, it mattered not the origins of the darkness. The tombs and burial shrines scattered across the surface did not pique its interest. The history and the mystery of the planet caught none of its attention. Its reasons for its presence were its own and a single look into the eyes of the pale, beaked mask it wore gave no hint or clue as to its intentions.

The black figure stopped a moment and gazed into the horizon, the pale, white mask faintly glowing in the light. In its hands it carried a black, ornamented cane and atop its head it wore a wide brimmed hat. A black cloak and dark clothing was all that could be determined of the creature aside from its gaunt height. A few moments more and the figure was gone, vanishing into the heat haze of the distance and the shifting sands carried upon Korriban's winds.

 

[Arage Bao]

Act, don’t think.

Do.

Move and kill.

His sword swept from the side with no hesitation or thought. It brushed through the air, fluid in motion and intent, a solid woesh sounded as it followed the predestined trajectory. Right before the ghost could disappear the edge of the blade already cut through its neck - or would have, had it found purchase in solid, thick flesh.

Instead there was just the faint counter-pressure of floaty pudding.

Any other individual would have found himself at the disadvantage. The trek of his blade continued down its path and through a solid miscalculation of how much strength he needed for the slash Tash was severely at that point in the battle where he would land face first into the dust.

If not for the second apparition.

Manifesting itself right next to him. Once again muscle memory and reflexes took over; left foot stepped back, right leg stepped up for the additional weight and once again that sword lashed out - this time a lunge aimed squarely at the solar plexus of the spirit.

This time the impact was more like goo, his sword shuddering before the pressure disappeared once again and left the Mazachi acolyte fuming just a tid bit.

He missed the third manifestation angled in the air, for his eyes were pulled in by the spirit of the Hzzissz.

More beautiful, its scales shimmering in silvery emerald. Eyes shone with wisdom and understanding, but before Tashkut could kneel…

It was gone again.

Tash unclenched his jaw with some difficulty. Anger, passion, frustration - those were emotions that were dangerous in the heat of battle if not properly controlled and reined it.

Amber started to leave as the Mazachi raised himself from the stance of battle. He studied [member="Rain"] before shaking his head slightly. Kissai. Even here he was not outside their grasp: clearly Rain was a shaman of some sort, a priest perhaps.

The sword was kept at ready, just in case. But Tash did not move to engage anymore. Instead he simply studied and waited for the priest-boy’s next move.

 

[Rain]

Rain of Yawning Hel Clan noted the premature aggression of the Pureblood; his slashing at phantoms like a schizophrenic.

So, the Sithling was real – not some trick of the Fanged God, but one of his actual slaves.

He narrowed his eyes upon Tashkut’s, issuing the challenge. Would he flee like his brothers with his belly in the dirt?

Rain bucked forward as if to attack, baring his teeth, making apparent the damage from the gnashing of bones. Though Yawning Hel did not typically host cannibals, a feral hag was not above rending flesh from Man, maiming through tooth and claw.

Two hits for flinching, punk.

[member="Tashkut"]​

 

[Boethiah]

Boethiah's eager stride took the small group deeper within the valley's entrance, careless of any potential onlookers. Already the many dig sites -- both fresh and ancient -- came into view of the young witch's gaze, her feet shuffled throughout the cold red sand. She descended further until the height of the pillars and statues became realized for how grand they truly are.

"The dead aren't supposed to talk," she mentioned, her head tilting upwards so that her eyes might examine the ruined statue more closely. Her comment didn't seem to be directed towards it, though, the girl's vision shifted quickly towards the expanse of the valley, her body soon turning with it. Her face lit up with a look of amusement, something further on encouraged her to move forward.

Her steps now were impatient the weight of each caused the hard ground beneath the coarse sand to crack in some places, she slouched low, creeping around a fallen pillar. Eyes darting to and from tomb-to-tomb, scrutinizing each entrance. Most of them were seemingly closed off, but a few looked as if they were recently excavated. Due to the many years of excavation, nearly all of the valuables have been taken, yet it is likely that there are still places yet to be discovered in their entirety.

[member="Orkamaat"] | [member="Nyla Crow"] | [member="Loxa Visl"] | [member="Dune Rhur"]

 

[Nyla Crow]

Nyla very much wished that Boethiah would stop talking to herself.

Although at least she was saying things that were at least somewhat relevant now; Nyla remembered all too well the complete disconnection from reality that the girl formerly suffered. Now she was acting with purpose, even if it was a purpose Nyla didn't quite understand.

She drew her blaster pistol and her lightfoil as the group journeyed deeper into the Valley, and quietly wondered if, given the Dark Side infused nature of the planet, her weapons would do much at all. Against the Tuk'ata and the Shyrack, she was sure she'd fair fine, but in the Valley of the Dark Lords, she doubted those would be her main concern.

Call it a hunch.

The Sith Hopeful turned her head to look warily at Orkamaat, and her grip on her blaster tightened. It was hard to tell what species he was at first, what with the Vongforming he'd underwent, but she figured it out eventually; Anzat. She was the newest member of this group and, if things went poorly, she had no doubt that she'd be the first on the menu. On the other hand, she was curious to see what it looked like when they fed, up close; so maybe this could be a learning experience for her.

But first, she had tombs to raid.

[member="Orkamaat"]
[member="Loxa Visl"]
[member="Dune Rhur"]
[member="Boethiah"]

 

[Yasindra Quorr]

"Yes, I was, dearest Arian," she said, pivoting the chair so she would face him. "Andrew was explaining to me, yet again, the dangers of this planet. But sometimes the dangers are simply outweighed by the profit."

She stood herself up, and matted down her dress. It certainly wasn't the go-to wear for exploring dangerous planets, but much like profit, fashion also outweighs dangers. If she dies among fifty, she'll be the one they recognize, and that's all she cares about. Immortality through history. Regardless of that fact, however, she had still fitted herself with the bare necessities; a blaster, some grenades of her own making, and a few straps of armour here and there.

"I hope you're ready to descend at some point, Arian, and you had best be ready too. My radar's showing that Dark Side brigand is here, likely with a few friends of hers, and I'd rather not encounter her. I may've played a little foolery on her, which I doubt she would've taken lightly. Regardless ...". Strolling past Arian, she went to retrieve two visors, carefully laid out in a drawer. She had been working on one of them not long ago, and finished the second one just yesterday. Not only were they stylish, but they would protect and enhance their eyes with simple, yet efficient technology. "We're going to need these if we want anything that's for grabs down there."

| [member="Arian Lenar"] |

 

[Dune Rhur]

The k'lor'slugs were on him the moment he stepped foot into the libraries. Dropping the glow rod, he grabbed his lightsaber and thumbed the activatior. The sapphire beam bathed the aisles in light which allowed him to see the mass of creatures surging toward him. He frowned as he took a defensive posture with the stairs at his back.

His plan was a simple one: he'd use the stairwell as a bottleneck. The Bith knew going into a more open space was suicidal. His first stroke sent the monstrous thing tumbling down, it's head hanging on mere gristle. On came the next hissing nightmare, impaling itself on his weapon as it lunged for it's prey....

OOC: Drop by the Academy and say hello! :3

 

[Nyla Crow]

Spoiler

OOC: pls dun hurt the tiny baby Sith Acolyte.

Nyla Crow, being young and impulsive, quickly became restless, wandering about the Valley of the Dark Lords. And so, removing her datapad from her belt, she quickly looked up a bit of information on Korriban's renowned Sith Academy. Recently torn down, infested with k'lor'slugs...dangerous. But she knew, if nothing else, the Sith would've had something stored in secret. She cleared her throat, and spoke to Boethiah.

"I'm going to go investigate the Sith Academy. I know it's been torn down, but...worth a shot, at least. Might still be something valuable, there. I'll keep in communication, don't worry." She tapped the com-link on her belt before heading off, igniting her lightfoil as she wandered towards the ancient Academy ruins.

To any force user within the torn down Academy, her presence as she stepped into the ruins would be announced by the sensation of a powerful, yet very raw and unrefined, aura of Dark Side energy.

[member="Dune Rhur"]

 

[Dune Rhur]

A short time later, Dune found himself driven back up the stairs. The slugs were literally crawling over each other in order to reach him. He deactivated his lightsaber in order to better concentrate. Thrusting out his palms, he sent a blast of telekinetic energy that sent the pile back. It only served to buy him to time before the writhing mass came for the Bith again.

His head whipped around as he felt the distinct presence of a Dark Sider. "Before you attempt to kill me, k'lor'slugs!" The Bith shouted tersely to the human woman. His head whipped back around and he sent the vanguard of creatures flying back with the Force. They crashed into the mass only for them to get up again.

Looking back at the woman, he fervently hoped she'd help. If she came after him, they'd certainly both be dead....

OOC: [member="Nyla Crow"] I might not

 

[Nyla Crow]

Nyla stopped cold as the Jedi's presence registered in her brain; she had been too anxious to discover what lay in the ruins to notice him before. Her fears were lessened, however, as she heard his plea for help. She feigned hesitation, for the briefest of moments, before reaching out into the Force, to examine the minds of the vermin assaulting her "ally."

Primitive.

Feral.

Malleable.

With a cold smirk, and a brief second to collect herself, she channeled her sense of superiority over the wretched creatures into a single command; Be Still. After a brief second, the Bith Knight would find the assaults begin to cease, the vermin in front of him settling down into a wriggling mass of filth. Nyla grunted, an audible expression of her effort, and sneered. "Please do hurry, Jedi. I can't do this for long." With an impatient snarl, she redoubled her efforts to keep the creatures still, sending out another wave of Dark Side energy to keep their inhuman minds ensnared.

[member="Dune Rhur"]