Private Hunger of Aeons

[Marrow]

Dilapidated Sleeper-Vault
'A Nameless World'

For the first time in many millennia, sunlight danced across the dusty floors of a 'tomb' buried in a mountainside. Maybe a road had led to it in aeons past, but such shallow wounds in the wilds had long seen faded away. Other digsites on the planet had revealed traces of a long-dead interstellar civilisation whose technologies were both archaic and arcane.

This particular site had been found only recently, when an earthquake opened the way.

Said way led into a nondescript hallway lined with faded frescos. At some point, water had carved a path through the site and a small brook now coursed through the hallway before seeping into a crack in the floor. The frescos, damaged by time and humidity, seemed to depict scenes of war and supplication before towering rulers (or perhaps gods).

The path that might have led towards the entrance proper had collapsed, but the way deep into the mountain remained open. Nearer to the heart of the mountain, through storerooms filled with decayed supplies, ritualistic chambers, and shadowy alcoves, lay a series of 'tombs'. Many held gleaming treasures - and all held a 'sarcophagus'.

Not all the 'sarcophagi' were occupied, however - and few had survived the elements unscathed.

Arcturus Dinn​

 

[Arcturus Dinn]

Well, this certainly wasn't the typical place the The Door Between Worlds spat him out at. Alleyways... It was supposed to be alleyways. As he glanced over the various tombs and inlaid sarcophagi he now stood between he wondered if this really counted at all. He supposed they were structures which housed things, but it really stretched the notion of buildings.​

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Even so, this was where he'd ended up.​

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Arcturus glanced over the dust-strewn room and coughed lightly into his elbow. It was dark and damp, his favourite combination. Luckily for him he'd seen fit to wear his band of shadows, not that he really went anywhere without it unless stealth was of importance. But then, he wouldn't have really had most of his equipment. Lightsaber alone, perhaps. Most of his things were easily trackable, owing to their presence in the Force. It was the weight which counterbalanced the wonders of Alchemy, he supposed.​

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It took him a moment to remember that the ring itself aided in such stealthy pursuits. Well then, no reason not to wear it at all huh? Still, didn't help with his current predicament.​

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"Well... Kriff." Arcturus had been putting off getting his return home tattoo for much too long now. A way to bring him right back to The Hourglass would have been mighty helpful right about now. Maybe this was the kick up the butt he needed... Was it finally time to book in with Hix? Chaos, Ishani Dinn was going to be pissed. He'd wriggled free from the needle when she'd gotten her sword tat, and now he was crawling back? Bleh.​

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No matter.​

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He focused on seeking for a way out, carefully stepping over the scattered remains of rat bones and other such unlucky creatures which had been caught out in this place. Someone had brought the sarcophagi down here, it only made sense there'd be a way back up right?​

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... Unless they'd closed the tomb entrance over.​

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Marrow ​

 

[Marrow]

The air was still, but not entirely stale, which meant there had to be an opening somewhere. Still, it was by no means pleasant to breathe, partially due to the reek of waste and partially due to a below average oxygen content.

At least he would not be suffocating anytime soon - something else had killed the critters.

This section seemed to be built around a long corridor with chambers to each side. All had doors, but not all the doors were closed. Most of the open doors led to empty chambers with a 'sarcophagus' in the centre, but some had treasures scattered about - glittering gold, tarnished weapons, and the decayed remnants of fine silks, among other things.

At one end of the corridor was a large chamber that held five large tanks. The room had partially collapsed, leaving only one intact, its frame ringed by snaking runes and gems holding the faintest spark of luminescence.

The floor was stained by decayed organic substances, the scent of it largely stripped away by time.

At the other end lay what might be an entrance-slash-exit, at least for this section. The walls held elaborate frescos depicting faceless humanoids raising arms with slit wrists upwards towards towering aristocrats. The exit was sealed behind a heavy, metallic door. The centre of the chamber held a dried-out crescent-shaped pool and a control panel of some sort. None of the symbols on it resembled Basic. If touched, the symbols would glow sporadically.

To each side lay rooms holding tarnished armour and the decayed remnants of clothing.

 

[Arcturus Dinn]

There was plenty to see, plenty which might have caught his attention and drove him down into unsettling tombs had he been a lesser man. He had no use for pageantry and knick-knacks, fine silks and golden chalices did not sway him. The promise of something otherworldly though, something different... Reaching to his belt, he took up the Korriban Compass and flicked it open to peer down upon the trio of spinning needles. It took a moment for anything to happen, and then one by one they stabilized.​

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Evidently there was something of worth here. Somethings, even. His gaze drifted left, then right, into those tombs with open doors. He ignored them, and pressed on. Maybe once he had secured a way out he could waste time rummaging, or following the compass needles, but for now? Well... For now he was already rather sick of the almost stagnant air. Wrinkling his nose, he closed shut the compass and returned it to his belt.​

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Then he pressed on toward the source of airflow, until he reached a bizarre chamber. Mostly crushed, his gaze fell over each of the tanks that were still visible and then settled on the untouched one. The doorway itself soon stole his attention, and he glanced from it to the dried up pool, then back to the control panel. Though the scent of death had been stripped away, he knew well what lay upon the floor, the signs of aged blood.​

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As much as he wanted to investigate the tank, the pragmatic side of his brain still yelled for him to secure a way out first. So he wandered forward, and approached the panel. He didn't recognize the script, though that didn't stop him from pressing a button or two. Beyond lighting up, nothing else happened. So he turned back toward the crescent pool and turned his sights to the murals on the wall. Slit wrists held aloft, bleeding toward titans.​

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Well, Arcturus was no stranger to the powers inherent in blood, the many things made possible by supplying a little of his life force. Would that he had something or someone else here to bleed for him, but alas he was alone. Or was he? Glancing down over his variety of trinkets he spotted the akima Dis had gifted him and had an almost immediate 'a-ha!' moment. Then he realized what he was contemplating doing, and his stomach sank. Did he really want to risk losing Littlefoot on a hunch?​

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Test the theory first... Then go from there. Yeah. Melydia would never forgive him if he needlessly squandered one of their terentatek hatchlings.​

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So he pulled free his dagger, and lightly drew it across the back of his arm until blood began to flow. Holding his arm aloft, he hovered it over the crescent shaped pool and watched as the droplets fell. He couldn't give much blood, he knew, but he was mostly testing to see if anything happened, however small.​

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Marrow ​

 

[Marrow]

Arcturus briefly tested out the control panel, with no apparent effect save for a bit of light, before attempting a more occult solution. Inspired by the murals, he offered his own blood to the pool, the soft 'plops' of the droplets hitting stone the only noise audible in the crypt-like complex. Once more, nothing seemed to happen.

The pool remained empty (but for the recently spilt drops of blood) and even lacked the vile 'grime' of the room on the other side of the corridor, though whether that was due to the differences in purpose or the passage of time was hard to say. Each 'tip' of the crescent held a pair of stairs and close examination would reveal concealed pumps near the bottom.

Suddenly, the blast door behind him began to open with the creaking of gears and scraping of metal, only to stop with a screech of metal as some dated component or another broke or got stuck. The door was partially open, but only by a narrow strip about five centimetres wide and nearly three metres tall.

If nothing else, the door partially opening brought with it an influx of fresh-ish air.

Soon after, one of the buttons Arcturus had pressed glowed an angry blue for about ten seconds, before fading back into its usual, inactive state. An agitated whirr from the control panel presumably meant something.

 

[Arcturus Dinn]

Arcturus watched each drop of blood fall into the pool far too large for him to ever make a dent in filling, and waited with bated breath. Nothing. Boy was he glad that he hadn't brought the terentatek out of hibernation... What a mistake that would have been. He reached his free hand over to cover the cut, and focused on the platelets in his blood as he worked to hasten the healing process. He was no master healer, but he knew blood intimately, on many levels at this point. Knew how to use it to his advantage.​

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Slowly but surely a scab began to form, and once it was doing its job and acting as a dam against blood loss he ceased his work. Just in time to hear the rumbling of the blast door and the grinding of grumpy gears. Shaking his hand, he dropped the last few droplets of blood down into the pool from the ends of his fingertips and then stepped around the pool, eyes fixed on the door.​

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Fresh air. Fresher than he'd known since appearing in this place. It was... intoxicating. He approached the small gap and peered through in an attempt at discovering what lay further on. Well, he realized, an exit. The air was coming from somewhere, after all. Still, try as he might he could never become skinny enough to get through a mere 5cm wide gap.​

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The blinking panel drew his attention, and he glanced down at the button in particular, one of those he'd previously pushed. He tried it a second time, though given the awful sounds the blast door had made the mechanisms likely weren't enjoying being tested. His mind drifted to the lightsaber on his belt, but desecrating this place seemed... wrong. Arcturus was a pursuer of all things mystically esoteric, destroying parts of a strange tomb was not on his agenda.​

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At least not until he'd learned all he could from it. Probably even then, though. History was important.​

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So he turned back to the room and tried to consider the best course of action. The fresh air did wonders toward easing his mind, where a headache had previously begun to form, and he approached the in tact tank. Why not look around a little more, see if there was another method he might use to open the door without burning a hole in it.​

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Marrow ​

 

[Marrow]

The second time the button was pressed, the response was quicker, as if some ancient computer system or another had been fully roused from aeons of low-powered maintenance cycles. Alas, the result was the same.

The sound of grinding metal, followed by blinking light and an angry whirring.

There was no hint of daylight (or, for that matter, starlight) from beyond the door, though the fresh-ish air made it clear that an opening existed further away. If he took the time to look through the gap from different angles, he would be able to see much of an entry chamber of some kind. Another pedestal stood at its center, though this one lacked a pool.

Unlike the room he was in, the room outside had six 'statues' standing guard. Well, five. One had completely collapsed from time and erosion. The exposed mechanical components made it clear that it had been a security droid.

It was possible, but unlikely, that the other five were functional. If so, they were offline.

Returning to the room at the other end of the only hallway accessible to him, Arcturus would once again examine the intact tank, this time in a less cursory manner. Closer inspection revealed that the light generated by the runes adorning it was inconsistent - some glowed more than others and some had gone out entirely if they had ever glowed at all.

There was a simple control panel on the front, under which rested something resembling a beverage dispenser. A close look at the walls would reveal a pair of inbuilt cupboards whose handles had rusted away.

Wrenching them open would reveal a number of ornate crystalline drinking glasses.

 

[Arcturus Dinn]

At this point, a more sane man might have just torn the door open and been on his way. Forgotten this strange crypt he'd found himself in and gone on with his life. For the life of him though Arcturus simply... couldn't.​

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Instead he approached the tank, and peered over the various runes which were lit to varying degrees of brightness. He took note of the dispenser, and of the cupboard, then approached the latter. Calling upon the Force, he drew the cupboard doors open and discovered a set of glasses, beautiful and ornate. Reaching up he took one from the shelf, and turned it this way and that.​

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Then he settled it into the dispenser.​

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Walking to the new control panel, he settled a finger down to activate one, then two, of the buttons at random, eyes turning toward the tank.​

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Marrow ​

 

[Marrow]

As with the control panel, there was a bit of a delay - this one was much shorter, however.

Perhaps the computer system was simply simpler, or perhaps it was purely mechanical. Either way, a stream of thick, faintly glowing red liquid would pour into the cup. It smelled foul, like iron that had rusted abnormally quickly due to environmental conditions. Oddly, there was even a slightly acid tinge to it - a deep sniff might fry a few nostril hairs.

The random buttons he pressed were seemingly a nonstandard combination, because the liquid soon flooded over the tip of the glass, trickling down the side and leaving it sticky to the touch.

Fortunately, the dispenser ceased dispensing soon thereafter.