The Reaper of Won Shasot
Rumors of ghosts were always mentioned in the same uneasy breaths as that of the Valley of Dark Lords. Standing before them now, he wondered what those ghosts would say to him. How they'd spurn him, or try to kill him as the long-dead Sith were wont to do. It wasn't the first time Dax had braved these sandcovered tombs, nor did he suspect it would be the last. There was always something more to learn in this valley of secrets.
Only one secret mattered anymore though, and it seemed fitting that some clue might be hidden among the dead.
This most recent iteration of Dax's search, however, had not began on Korriban. Instead it was Zakuul. Only a handful Force Users throughout history had accomplished what Dax sought now, and their stories, though written in history, were woefully lacking in details. Zakuul had seemed a reasonable start for his investigation, once the seat of Valkorion himself. Weeks of sifting through forgotten records, trudging through the swamps, searching through mud and muck. And he'd walked away nearly empty handed.
Still, one small clue as to where to look next, and of course it had lead back to Korriban. Dax should've expected as much, but he loathed the dusty wastes of the planet. He'd had enough of deserts and yet he always found himself in these cursed sandstorms. The man pulled the wrappings around his face tighter, and wiped dust from the lenses of his goggles as he marched towards one of the many ancient tombs. The winds tore at his clothes, and the grains of sand snuck into every crevice it could find as the monolithic statues of the ancient Sith loomed over him, mocking his efforts. He could only hope this tomb belonged to the Dark Lord he hoped it did.
Darth Malum of House Marr
Only one secret mattered anymore though, and it seemed fitting that some clue might be hidden among the dead.
This most recent iteration of Dax's search, however, had not began on Korriban. Instead it was Zakuul. Only a handful Force Users throughout history had accomplished what Dax sought now, and their stories, though written in history, were woefully lacking in details. Zakuul had seemed a reasonable start for his investigation, once the seat of Valkorion himself. Weeks of sifting through forgotten records, trudging through the swamps, searching through mud and muck. And he'd walked away nearly empty handed.
Still, one small clue as to where to look next, and of course it had lead back to Korriban. Dax should've expected as much, but he loathed the dusty wastes of the planet. He'd had enough of deserts and yet he always found himself in these cursed sandstorms. The man pulled the wrappings around his face tighter, and wiped dust from the lenses of his goggles as he marched towards one of the many ancient tombs. The winds tore at his clothes, and the grains of sand snuck into every crevice it could find as the monolithic statues of the ancient Sith loomed over him, mocking his efforts. He could only hope this tomb belonged to the Dark Lord he hoped it did.
Darth Malum of House Marr