L-Space | Lorrd

[Boethiah]

A single science-research vessel breaches real-space, the modest starship begins its approach vector towards Lorrd.

Deep within its hull, Boethiah stands over the railing within the cargo bay. "We are here for knowledge, not war." One of her kath hounds curls up at her side, the other paces back and forth behind her. "With help from below, our vessel is designated as one of research. Use this to our advantage," the witch herself was dressed more properly than usual. Wearing a clean white robe with silver-toed boots and gloves to match.

"It is only fitting that we assist the one who assisted us. He has requested aid to breach a palace. I and those who follow will move to the great library. Once inside it is our objective to acquire any and all knowledge which can assist our cause... This is the will of the Three and the One." With that said, the young woman hops from the railing and lands onto the cold metal below. Springing back up, Boethiah walks the front of the bay.

"If anyone is caught or stranded, you may have to fend for yourself."

The starship descends the atmosphere, maintaining course and landing at its designated port. It was certainly not the only ship docked at the busy spaceport, where plenty of other vessels of all shapes and sizes had landed. They would need to slip through crowds and go unnoticed--or at least not stand out--in the busy courtyards and streets.

Primeval Tags: [member="Antherion"] | [member="Aria Vale"] | [member="Cady"] | [member="Darth Carnifex"] | [member="Darth Prazutis"] | [member="Darth Rage"] | [member="Evaelyn Zambrano"] | [member="Fatty"] | [member="Jedediah Bagely"] | [member="Joycelyn Zambrano"] | [member="Khaldun"] | [member="Khaleel Malvern"] | [member="Lady Death"] | [member="Lethia Morow"] | [member="Loxa Visl"] | [member="Nick Imura"] | [member="Orkamaat"] | [member="Pravus Zambrano"] | [member="Rook"] | [member="Safiriel Bane"] | [member="Satia"] | [member="Warok the Defiler"]

Dominion Tags: [member="Owazza"] | [member="Veiere Arenais"] | [member="Zaz Tal'Verda"] (Tagging you guys so that you know we're on your planet, but there's no ongoing attack or anything.)

 

[Placeholder 0128]

(Not so much providing opposition as setting a scene. Cedric and [member="Vorian Adasca"] are within the library. Anyone coming to the place would have very little trouble - the Dominion has no reason to believe anyone with the means to plunder would ever have any reason to. Do as you like!)

Cedric drew in a deep breath.

A treatise on the beyond was outstretched before him, the paper formed from the skin of something pocked and pale. The young Archlord had found himself repulsed by the tome initially, but then knowledge was something that he could not afford to shun, no matter how morose its method of translation. The words scrawled in fading ink foretold of a twisting of the veil; of a shattering between the barriers that protected the physical from the ethereal.

Most had disregarded the vulgar piece of literature's contents as the words of a doomsayer. They were right, of course, but Cedric had come to understand that such doomsayers were not always wrong incorrect in their prophecies. Given the recent happens across the galaxy, he thought it unwise to dismiss such thinking outright.

The seers were beholden to the end times, and their visions had rarely been wrong. Any bit of knowledge upon the true nature of the Arch Enemy was worth seeking out, and so the Archlord had set himself to the task of exploring this library's contents.

Doing so had been difficult. Despite his position, the people of Lorrd still revered their former rulers. The library was a place forbidden to these offworlders that would call themselves allies of Lorrd, and while the politicans had agreed to the senate's whims, many of the people had not. Were the circumstances different, Cedric would have advised that the senate leave the Lorridians to their peace, but the promise of war had not allowed such a lapse in security.

"Vorian," the youth's brow furrowed, "This tome both sickens and fascinates me. According to this, the presence of creatures from the beyond has been a near constant since the formation of the Old Republic. Their appearances were all isolated instances, but..." his lips pressed into a thin line.

"The dark gods have been around far longer than I have been led to believe." He mumbled, shoulders going slack as he turned to face his father's friend. The Arkanian was the sole man to accompany him into this dreary place. Cedric doubted that many others had the mental fortitude to retain their sanity when faced with such reality-shattering knowledge. The chamber itself was lit by a handful of candles, casting the Archlord's pale features in a dim orange light.

"What all do you know of the Netherworld my friend?" He asked, "I know much; my father saw to it that I was well educated. Yet even still, I do not understand it. I struggle to grasp its concepts. Its truths boggle my mind, and mine is one well honed."

As the words were spoken, another shifting of the guard would move about near the spaceport. No one would notice anything odd about the science vessel that had docked within the spaceport. Not a soul would expect anything malignant from such a ship, save for petty crooks perhaps. The guards had grown rather lax now that the skies above were patrolled by one of the Dominion's star cruisers - no one would ever have any just cause to think the world was unsafe.

Many odd figures roamed Lorrd. It would be particularly easy to blend in, given the rather eclectic nature of the traders that now frequented the world. Indeed, anyone trying to sneak their way to the library would have little trouble. The only barrier they might find were red-cloaked guards that served as Cedric's personal force, and of them there were only six. The halls of the library were almost empty, save for Cedric and a few chosen scholars.

The Chimaera lingered above the world, its presence rather obvious. She was currently on standby, being the ship that Cedric called home, but she would notice nothing out of the usual.

No one would ever think that a forgotten power like the Primeval would ever come to this place with anything less than a full invasion force at its back.

[member="Boethiah"]

 

[Avo]

Knowledge was something many sought.

For some it was power, for others it was just another avenue for their upward ascent. For Lan, it had become a hobby. Ever since his induction into the Dominion's Order of Jedi, their Archlord had so kindly granted the Jedi Master unrestricted access to all of their great libraries and temples currently in their possession.

His current favorite happened to be The Kanz Disorders: Lessons Learned. It was a legal thesis detailing all of the events that took place; from Argazdan Redoubt forces annihilated the planet Ereesus to the Myrialite totalitarian regime. While Lan held very little interest in the matters of law, it was an important document and was assumed to be used in the development in later legislation for the Argazdan people.

Galactic history was marred with conflict and war. It was simply the name of the game; a war of the stars.

Casually, Lan strolled throughout the great halls with a tablet in hand. With the other, he absent-mindedly ran his fingers around the meditation crystal hanging around his neck. If only he could go back in time, to teach the Jedi of old how wrong they were. They were too aggressive, too warlike. Lan only hoped that he would be able to lead the Dominion's Jedi as well as the great masters of yore had. Lead and inspire these talented and special men and women to become something great.

He would try with all of his might, but in the end it was all left to the Force.

[member="Cedric Grayson"], [member="Boethiah"]

 

[Ras'kala'han]

Antherion mulled over his new, shiny title in his head. Imperial Regent of Lorrd. The 'Regent' part was more rooted in precaution than a plan to let go of power. The Darth Voracitos was less a rival to be considered and more of a horrible disaster that could befall someone at any moment. And even now, after having sold his soul for a shard of a tainted Force nexus, after ripping the knowledge of the Shapers of Kro Var from their very skulls, he could not dare say that he had the power to challenge the Shadow Emperor. Yet. So he bode his time on the planet, and hoped -- with the healthy understanding that the hope was likely unfounded -- that Voracitos's journey to the Netherworld would end with him being, in sublime irony, eaten by the True Enemy that the Archlord was researching.

He loved this planet far more than Malachor, even if it brought in far fewer credits. He loved it because, ultimately, it demanded less of him and yielded oh so much. Even the puerile, public sections, devoid of arcane lore or deep secrets could yield insight onto the most obscure situations, the most trying of tasks. Universities researched technology that would benefit the Galaxy -- or himself alone, if he used or abused his power just right.

The democratic oversight was... troublesome, but he was working his way through it. The massive population of slaves had been freed, but the majority simply worked the same service-sector jobs they always did. Creating the mandatory public education infrastructure likewise proved to be incredibly easy on a University planet. He skimmed off the top where he could, cut what corners he could, but they were thorough. In spite of his high hopes, the population was by-and-large going to be healthier, happier, and more socially involved, and he was going to lose profit as a result. As far as he was concerned, it vindicated his beliefs that any major, organized faction that held power over him would do him as much ill as good.

Far better, to build one's own power. But sometimes, it was necessary to build connections with others. To that end, he had invited a number of specialists to aid in his goal of opening the Shadow Emperor's hidden stores of knowledge. Systems may be built and broken, but individual power was, ultimately, the most reliable of all. And the most reliable individual powers? Credits, the Force, and knowledge -- preferably profitable knowledge, or arcane knowledge.

On the steps of the Imperial Palace, he waited to welcome the approaching guests, a coy smile on his face. This was truly promising.

| [member="Boethiah"] | [member="Cedric Grayson"] | [member="Lan Graendal"] |

 

[Darth Rage]

Rage paced the lab of the research shuttle. It was a small room, ceramic flooring, and a few plasteel tables. Atop the tables lay an odd assortment of small surgical tools. In Rages left hand sat a red kyber crystal. He had a small scalpel in his other. Rage was carving ancient runes into the crystal. He would need to empower them later.... Audroti stuffed the crystal within a pocket of his duster and left the quiet confines of the room.

Rage wore no armor today. Instead he adorned a simple brown jumpsuit, with a black duster over it. Goggles hung loosely around his neck and a working bandana sat folded in his back pocket. He looked every part your average spacer. He doubted anyone would question his red skin, the galaxy was a big place and there were undoubtedly hundreds of species they had never seen before.

So, Rage waited for the vessel to dock impatiently. Arms folded, foot tapping softly on the ground. Audroti leaned against a nearby wall. The vessel landed with a light thud. The gangplank descended and Rage was one of the first to leave the ship. He cared little for what the others did. He simply wanted the power of knowledge stored within that library.

[member="Antherion"]
[member="Lan Graendal"]
[member="Cedric Grayson"]
[member="Boethiah"]

 

[Pravus Zambrano]

The tall Epicanthix hybrid wrapped his hands within one another, folding over and over. Like a cycle that would never end, he looked out towards the stars through the small viewscreen afforded on the research vessel. He listened, intently, to the words of the Host Lord and all guidance she provided. She was cold and callous, but passionate in her own way, and Pravus felt an odd kinship in that. Though he could hardly contain his enthusiasm as he knew she had, plopping down from that railing.

"You look nervous."

"Is that your professional opinion, Darron?!?" Pravus jerked his head from the screen to look s the walking corpse, in his dead beady eyes. They were grey and just showing the early signs of jaundice. Not like a zombie needed a liver anyway.

"Just...making small talk."

"Do you want me to snap my fingers? Because I have no problem snapping my fingers!" Pravus lifted his hand, thumb pressed against the tip of his middle finger, ever so threateningly. "Small talk is for small people, Darron!"

There was no rebuttal. Darron looked out towards the congregation, some distance away. And Pravus greeted such silence with triumph. It might as well have been the ant, bowing beneath the gaze of the magnifying lens.

"Grab my things." Pravus stated, waiving his hand nonchalantly. He, in truth, wasn't sure what he needed for the trip down to the library. How many bags did he need, to capture all the literature that he might want in the future? No one would know for sure. Especially Darron. This was a test that Pravus knew the corpse would fail.

Either he would bring too many bags and hinder progress. Or he would bring too few and Pravus would, curse the thought, be left carrying what he thought was important. Either way, a dead man was getting scolded. "Come Darron, we don't have all day!" He nearly screeched as he proceeded out of the door of the small room. The ship would land, soon enough, and he would be on his way to the library.

[member="Antherion"] | [member="Lan Graendal"] | [member="Cedric Grayson"] | [member="Darth Rage"] | [member="Boethiah"]

 

[Lethia Morow]

Secret Agent Man

---

Lethia would be accompanying Boethiah today, as she typically did - breaching a Palace sounded so utterly dull, at least compared to a library. True, she couldn't read, because of the situation with her eyes, but she was working on a fix for that. Besides, the plan was to find literature useful to the Primeval. In this case, "useful" meant "Dark," and Lethia didn't need to be able to read to detect Darkness.

With a backpack and a pair of satchels strapped to her painfully underfed form (her form itself cloaked by a set of monks' robes and a veil), Lethia tapped the walls of the ship anxiously, keratinous talons tapping metal through soft cloth gloves.

Nearby were her assumed companions in the library heist; a red skinned devil dressed in the guise of a common peasant, and a being so warped and a twisted that Lethia went weak in the knees whenever cast her Sight upon him. That said, as glorious as his grotesquery was, Lethia did think that perhaps Pravus should disguise himself. And not bring the walking corpse along.

Not that she said either of those things. That would just be impolite.

---

[member="Boethiah"]
[member="Pravus Zambrano"]
[member="Darth Rage"]
[member="Cedric Grayson"]

 

[Boethiah]

Boethiah walked out of the spaceport, looking more than the part. Lorrdians--who weren't enslaved--were found to dress quite intricately, as body-language is held sacred in their society. No doubt the two were connected... Or perhaps they liked to dress up, who knew for sure.

These were matters the witch dwelt on not, but instead kept her eyes forward with the great library locked before her. Crowds of scholars, students, and countless others dotted the streets that led their way to the various buildings. Some had equally large crowds standing out front, but others seemed empty despite their upkeep. Including the library which surprised the young witch, who stopped in her tracks just before the lengthy stone incline.

"Well that is odd..." She comments. "I believe we may not be welcomed should we step inside," it seemed as good an explanation as any. The location itself proved invaluable in terms of the knowledge kept inside. "Not as we are at least. Strangers to this world, but I wonder..." Boethiah taped her chin in thought, a single feature scratching away at the dried ink inscribed upon her skin.

"What do you think?" She spoke louder, speaking to no one in particular. It could be she addressed those near enough to listen.

[member="Lethia Morow"] | [member="Darth Rage"] | [member="Pravus Zambrano"] | [member="Cedric Grayson"] | [member="Lan Graendal"]

 

[Placeholder 0128]

A quiet sigh fell from the youth's lips.

The source of his interest was beginning to grow rather dull. Such tended to happen when one was perusing the secrets of the void for hours on end. With tired eyes, he clapped the book closed and turned to meander about the building.

Something seemed a bit...off in the air, though he could not figure out what it was. The Great Ocean was not still, but it wasn't consumed with chaos either. The waters were choppy, but they were nowhere near any levels of true danger. Yes, it was nothing distinct that made Cedric cast a look over his shoulder, but a quiet foreboding presence at the edge of his consciousness. He suspected that he'd forgotten to sign a document of importance of something of that like before departing from the Chimaera.

"Enjoying yourself Master Graendal?" He asked as he crossed the Jedi Master's path. The elder monk was always an easy distraction. "I feel like I've read every page in this damned building, when I've barely scratched the surface. I fear I'd die of old age before I finished it all."

[member="Boethiah"], [member="Pravus Zambrano"], [member="Darth Rage"], [member="Antherion"], [member="Lan Graendal"]

 

[Avo]

Moving meditation was becoming a second habit of his. Any time he began to fidget with something, focus intently, or drift away in thought, he could feel his heart and soul fill. Feeling the crisp paper against his old fingers, the gentle thrum of heating and air conditioning systems, and the occasional murmur of whispered chatter among those craving this bountiful wealth of knowledge. It was indeed quite the extraordinary resource and was lucky enough to associate with the particular faction that held democratic sway over this world.

All was well it seemed.

Or so he thought.

Lan sensed the footsteps long before his ears did. Green eyes rose from the leather-bound tablet to rest upon a young man; the Archlord of the Dominion.

The Jedi Master smiled. "I am indeed, young Lord." The master slowly closed the tablet and brought it down to his side.

"I will probably be one with the Force before I manage to read a fraction of what's in here," the master sighed. "If only Masters Kale and Siodmak could've seen this. Those two were nothing but bookworms with a penchant for lifting weights.."

His voice trailed off. "Anyways, what can I do for you, Grayson?"

[member="Cedric Grayson"], [member="Boethiah"], [member="Lethia Morow"], [member="Pravus Zambrano"], [member="Darth Rage"], [member="Antherion"],

 

[Blackthorne]

<< Those who seek only knowledge are always welcome to the halls of Lorrd. It is a place of learning. >>

The low, lilting voice of Loxa spoke from Boethiah's left side, words of Pacean loud enough only for the Host Lord Reborn to hear. The Sha'Matri turned a golden glance to the face of her daughter, pausing only for a moment before pressing on. She was joined by two Skarsovi Matri: matured women who represented two tribes of Wayland. They were learned individuals, having left Bastion after the death of the Host Lord to join the High Priestess and her witches on Wayland. Here they might play the role of translator for the Sha'Matri as well as serve the will of the Gods. Theirs was clothing of clean ceremony: white robes over colors of earth and stone, accented by trimmings of black and gold. The symbol of Sargon gleamed under the sun at the backs of the Matri.

<< Come, Boethiah. >>

Quiet movements lead them up the grand entry staircase. Somewhere within the walls of this place there were words and powers of their Gods to find.

 

[Pravus Zambrano]

Pravus walked as if a vulture in motion, perched and swaying with arms lifted and hands limp at the wrist. Tucked against his chest, the robes concealed the sith runes that covered the landscape of his flesh. Mother had told them they would serve a purpose but to mar the canvas of a God, mid-ascent, only further proved how worthless they had been. Nevertheless, it was a part of what he was.

"Look around you, Darron." His right hand gestured in an arc to the world around them, filled with scholars and the tones of academia. There was so much to learn, so little time! "This is what you should be aspiring to, my boy. To become something, to better yourself." He lifted his hand in a fist, ever expressive and forthright in the sincerity of his beliefs and dogma.

"Oh god..."

"We have not seen such resource since the vain-" Pravus turned to watch Darron scrambling about.

"I can't see...I can't see!"

"Stop it, Darron!" Pravus lurched over and kicked the crouching corpse on the tuckus, just enough to make sure the man knew that the Sorceror meant business. It was only then that he realized Darron was scrambling to pick a loose eyeball from the cracks of ornately mounted stone. Lack of depth perception was getting the better of him. "Oh dear, Darron that is...disgusting." He shirked and shivered for a second before leaning over and picking the dirty eyeball up. "You're just falling apart..." He said as he rubbed the eyeball on his robes, brushing some dirt off, before gingerly popping the eye back into Darron's socket. It took a bit of wrenching and effort but with a muffled pop, the grayed eye was back in place. He bounced an accusatory finger in Darron's direction. "You need to take better care of yourself. We can't have you falling apart in public like this. Bad for showmanship."

"I just want to die."

"Ohhhh..." Pravus patted the man on his back before urging him towards the interior of the library. "We have a ways to go before we get to that." He spoke with a smile, rubbing his hands together. "Now, I know you are a fan of conceptual design and aquatic studies, Darron." He waggled his fingers. "But we are here for myths and legends. The meat of cultures, from which old magic is derived."

[member="Cedric Grayson"], [member="Boethiah"], [member="Lethia Morow"], [member="Lan Graendal"], [member="Darth Rage"], [member="Antherion"], ​

 

[NightSister]

- [member="Lethia Morow"] - [member="Loxa Visl"] - [member="Cedric Grayson"] - [member="Boethiah"] - [member="Lan Graendal"] - [member="Antherion"] - [member="Pravus Zambrano"] -​

- big bang -​

​

She stood silent and unassuming, nondescriptness serving to disguise her as she followed amongst the others, mind full of thoughts as ever. Amber eyes held the grand library in their gaze, and Aria nodded, more to herself than anyone; she was simply making visual the confirmation that the building seemingly promised it held knowledge of worth.

Aria was with the Primeval today, and she stood with them easily. They sought after the same things as she, after all - knowledge, power, the dark side. The Echani herself, of course, didn't factor the gods, or any gods, into the equation, but to her it was irrelevant. She was hardly denying the existence of any such gods, nor did she intend to proclaim herself against them. She simply didn't care - whether gods existed, what they did, what she ought to do to serve them.

But she could keep that to herself, of course.

The girl she'd learned was called Boethiah spoke from a distance off, and Aria responded only with a vague gesture of uncertainty as she walked with the group, preferring to leave the airwaves free for someone who might have something of an opinion on the matter. The witch had a point; here, the Primeval was unfamiliar, and certainly little had been done to lessen the fact's obviousness, that Aria could see. She wasn't particularly cautious over the possibility, however. Here, they were other, but not malicious in their otherness. Their goal was simply, after all, to learn.

 

[Darth Rage]

Rage smirked at Boethia’s comment. He wasn’t sure how to proceed. In days of old he would've simply stormed the palace steps with an army behind him and taken what he sought. But, this required a more subtle approach. Something he was not beneath doing. Rage spotted a scholar approaching and deemed it worthy to follow the man.

The man trailed through the narrow city streets until eventually entering an alley lined with a little garbage and filled with stagnant water. Audroti followed the man like a shadow and when the man finally noticed, they were in the middle of the alley.

“Can I help you?” The man asked nervously

Rage reached out with his mind and felt the man's thoughts. They were abound with logistics, ancient tomes and various other ideas of genius. It took a little doing, but Audroti made the man's mind more susceptible to suggestion.

“Isn’t it hot out today?” Audroti asked the man.

“Why, yes. Yes it is,” The man said simply.

“Why don't you take your robes off,” Rage suggested.

The man stripped from the long flowing white robes and the small turban that sat atop his head and handed them to Rage. Rage took off his duster and handed it to the man. He quickly threw the white robes over his brown jumpsuit, sure that they covered the entirety of his body. He removed the goggles from his neck and placed the turban atop his head.

“Cover yourself filth. Your physique is appalling,” Rage said disgustedly.

The man put the duster on and Rage walked back through the alley. He moved through the crowded city streets looking every bit a scholar. Rage approached the palace steps and began to make his way to the top. Grand temple doors, gilded in strange carvings and foreign runes were parted to allow entrance for those who sought the knowledge of the library within.

Rage entered the palace and discovered grand halls with small chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. Great satin rugs lined the floor and rich lustrous paintings covered the walls. As Rage walked closer to the library itself he began to sense a presence of light within it. Using the force Rage masked his own abilities and entered the library.

 

[Eugen Aker]

Arisa attempted to activate the holocron with a psychic command as she held it cupped between her gloved palms. The cracked azure dodecahedron would begin to glow with soft light as power cycled through its photonic circuitry. She brightened at the sight. Before, she couldn't even get the busted thing to activate.

The cube would go on to project flickers of light appeared as static, accompanied by loud screeches painful to the ears. Arisa winced, then immediately flicked off the holocron. She still had her work cut out for her, but at least she was finally making some progress. She imagined Mr Breznik would be pleased with the engineer's recovery efforts so far.

She decided to take a break at that point, gingerly setting the holocron back upon the anti-static cover pulled over the small table. She leaned back in the stiff metal chair, stretching her arms outward as she looked around the library backroom, the walls lined with several racks and cubbyholes filled with artifacts in various states of deterioration. Much of it was just straight-up junk at this point, but something had drawn the Jedi to pick out the damaged holocron for some love. Now that she had gotten into working on the repairs, she was eager to reveal its secrets. No one at the library was quite sure about the contents of the holocron or its creator, apparently, found among some poorly preserved cache long ago.

Her dark eyes zeroed in on a glint of metal at the far side of the room. The sword. Rather, what was left of it, little more than a dejewled and unwrapped hilt and broken pieces of the shattered blade, several of them missing to time. As she had ran her fingers over the broken blade during her first pass around the room, she could feel the faint traces of the Force within the previously imbued blade. Even through the rust and grit that now covered the alloy, the Jedi could feel out that the underlying structures had been incredibly well crafted, some of the best examples of melded lattices she had ever observed. She was no slouch in forging, but it put her own work to shame. It made her think about how much knowledge had been lost to the Jedi after repeated cycles of purging that had often left them on the verge of extinction.

There could be many things she would pick up from studying the sword in depth, perhaps even attempting a restoration with permission, but for now, her focus would remain on getting the holocron working again, the mysteries of it data stores much too alluring to pass up during her brief stay in Dominion space.

[member="Beothiah"] [member="Cedric Grayson"]

((Wrote this on mobile, so apologies for any mess of typos and ugliness. I'll clean it up once I'm back on my notebook.))

 

[Lethia Morow]

There was something right about this Library.

Even if Lethia couldn’t see the grand bookcases or the countless tomes they held, she could feel the countless millennia of accumulated knowledge, ancient wisdom the likes of which she’d never dreamt of acquiring. A soft, breathy sigh escaped her. Heavenly.

Heavenly, at least, until she noticed the others in the building, those not counted among her companions.

Three blobs of searing Light tainted the otherwise beauteous scene playing out in her Force Sight; it was all she could do not to let out a snarl of discontent. But no, that would draw undue attention. She was just a simple monk seeking knowledge, nothing more, and nothing less.

So rather than focusing on the Light, Lethia allowed her attention to remain centered on the slivers of shadow littered around the building. Each little splinter was a book, or perhaps a scroll, or even a holocron. It didn’t matter, really; in every case, the knowledge held within was so dark that the medium itself became tainted.

Her toothy, lipless grin hidden behind a veil of black cloth, Lethia bowed politely to the rest of the hunting party, then wandered off to loot as many of those juicy little morsels as she could carry.


---
[member="Darth Rage"]
[member="Aria Vale"]
[member="Boethiah"]
[member="Pravus Zambrano"]
[member="Loxa Visl"]
[member="Cedric Grayson"]
[member="Lan Graendal"]
[member="Arisa Yune"]

 

[Boethiah]

Boethiah listened well to her mother, and moved swiftly in pursuit as they climbed the steps of the library.

A massive entry way stood tall over the equally impressive square. A beacon of knowledge in a galaxy that has lost much in the four hundred years' darkness. Stone, metal, and synthetic materials made up its construct in beautiful, yet practical, architecture. The entrance itself an open concept, as any doorway proved too large for convenience but instead a simple weather shield prevented the elements from claiming the inside.

Such buildings were once common throughout the galaxy, but few have been maintained over the last many centuries after endless warfare found its way across worlds. The witch's eyes searched the towering pillars and high walls free of any inscriptions, plain surfaces kept spotless by meticulous custodians. Only a handful of souls dotted the empty spaces where hallways and corridors met, most whispering within circles and others moving between locations.

"I am beginning to remember," she mutters. In truth it wasn't her memory that she relied on in this matter but that of one lying within her. The more she allowed it to influence her mind, the more Boethiah had to be careful not to accept its hegemony. "It's this way..." The young woman walks down the massive hall, unconcerned should anyone wish to question her being there.

Her feet carry her forward and in the direction which leads further back into the library, away from places of higher learning but instead towards those of study and practice. Where scholars and students would normally find themselves free from the pattering of footsteps that distracted their learning minds.

[member="Loxa Visl"] | [member="Aria Vale"] | [member="Lethia Morow"] | [member="Pravus Zambrano"] | [member="Cedric Grayson"] | [member="Lan Graendal"] | [member="Darth Rage"] | [member="Arisa Yune"]

 

[Tyberius Fel]

What virtues were left to the damned?

Vorian may had donned the blood stained cloak of 'Sith' and relished in the tomes of once forbidden knowledge that now lay prostate before him, fruitful and virgin. Truth be told and falsehoods dispelled, the siren song of histories lost and potent spells barred weaved a tractor beam far more compelling than the petty cruelty of blood soaked massacres of the innocent, which inspired disgust within the Arkanian even now. Occasionally stealing a glance at the Jedi dispersed about between towering book shelves and datacrons, all but in the slumbering repose of learning, he considered slinking back to 'the light.' But of course, Vorian Adasca knew better than to toy with such infantile concepts. Dark, Light. Jedi, Sith. All but guises to be exploited by the most cunning and pragmatically unscrupulous of men.

The stench of rot tickled his nostrils.

A whirling, amorphous mass of pitch black robings and silvery, milkgrass thin hair manifested to the flank of Cedric Greyson, as if a wraith summoned from the dried ink of vellum tomes themselves.

[member="Boethiah"]
[member="Lethia Morow"]
[member="Arisa Yune"]
[member="Darth Rage"]
[member="Aria Vale"]
[member="Pravus Zambrano"]
[member="Loxa Visl"]
[member="Lan Graendal"]
[member="Cedric Grayson"]

 

[Garza]

All too soon was it time to draw blood upon those who would consider us Zealots, and Cultists. While it was all true, They were wrong to speak at us in such a way. We lived how we pleased. If it was to destroy all other governments, then no one should stand in our path, If it was to obtain peace, then let them fight over a lie.

I prepared myself for this. My poisoned blood boiled with anticipation of ending someone's life. I could feel the flesh through my gauntlets. Squishy and feeble. So desirable in many forms. As dark parchment of those who deserved only the worst of pains. It can be desired through lust. A form of fantasy and of the body. To desire the feeling of being close to one person. It could be the weakness. One that can be penetrated with a blade, nail, or slug. Luckily the flesh I felt through my hands was the arm of my Zabrak Apprentice.

She was a very powerful person. One that fed upon her own pain much like myself. However, She was different. She was very strong within the force. One who I could see becoming a Master one day. How that would come to pass? I will not know at this moment. For now, I grabbed her arm through my gauntlets and pushed her forward out of the ship.

"You have to be so rough with me Master. Hiding the soft core within you much like your sword?"
"No. I want us to hurry to meet with the man who is supposed to be leading us. Apparently he has knowledge of what the Host Lord needs, or he is trying to aid in the knowledge of the Primeval. However, we must know that all who seek power want it for themselves first."
"So why are we aiding him? Wouldn't we want to take it for ourselves?"
"Yes, but that is not a purpose here. We will aid the Primeval. What we find and do with this knowledge can be dealt with later."

She looked at me with a curious eye. One that I looked away from as we walked down the street. It was slightly windy out today. Enjoyable breeze. One that my apprentice allowed for her hood to be down, and let the wind breathe through her stark black hair. She breathed in deeply. I noticed this as I could see the beauty of her kind. Red and black skin. Smooth from the various tattoos upon their skin. It made me smirk slightly as I sauntered on.

Taking only a few minutes to walk to the rendezvous point. The steps of the very place we would ready ourselves. The clinking of my armor and its various scaling plates, as well as the katana that hung from my hip, It was clear I was either dressed to look nice, or dressed for war. However, it was up to the people here, on what I was actually doing.

Would I slaughter? Oh yes. However, would it be them, or someone else? You could never tell with a deranged Sith who was dying as he still breathed.

[member="Vorian Adasca"], [member="Boethiah"], [member="Lethia Morow"] , [member="Arisa Yune"] [member="Darth Rage"] [member="Aria Vale"] [member="Pravus Zambrano"] [member="Loxa Visl"], [member="Lan Graendal"], [member="Cedric Grayson"]

 

[Placeholder 0128]

"Only seeking a respite from the harsh reality of the void," Cedric murmured, though his tone carried a playfulness lost to his words. The youth reached up to draw back his cowl, gray oculars flickering about from one corner of the library to the next. There was that sense of unease again; like the feeling a student might have when he's realized that he missed the deadline for a paper. The youth could not help but feel like he was forgetting something, though he couldn't rightly recall what that something was.

"It's all very dreary reading. You can only hear about the coming of the end so many times before you became choleric. People weren't meant to dwell on the negative." Cedric explained with a wave. He looked to Lan almost for a form of guidance. Gods knew Cedric rarely ever felt the need for such, but for once, his youth was showing. The Jedi Master was a far older and more experienced man; he had the experience that, despite all of his training, Cedric did not.

Perhaps he could explain this wrongness in a better sense.

"And Vorian, I-" he turned to regard his Arkanian companion when a voice buzzed in his ears.

"A group of strange individuals have entered the library. They weren't on my list of those permitted." Beren's voice sputtered through Cedric's bead comm.

"Alright? We've invited scholars from across Dominion space to peruse what we have here. It's likely that they are Antherion's guests."

"I would not contact you if they did not look suspicious lord. The other Red-Cloaks have been alerted. It's just a precaution - too many VIPs in one place to let anything slip."

Cedric's brow furrowed. "As you suggest then, Captain Beren. Keep an eye on them if you must, but I won't hear of you causing any trouble unless trouble finds you, is that understood?"

The captain hesitated. "Yes lord. I apologize if I seem paranoid, but you know that is my duty."

"I understand Captain, and I am thankful for your concern. I've Master Graendal and Lord Adasca with me. If there are any troubles, I assure you they will keep me safe."

With that, Cedric cut the feed.

"Beren's worried. Says a few outlandish individuals have entered the library, though I'd think they would be appointed to visit. Antherion likely invited them." The youth shrugged, and parted his lips to speak further just as [member="Boethiah"] strode past the trio. Few ever came to this part of the library. It held tomes and secrets forbidden to the masses, and it was here that the Red-Cloaks stood guard over their young charge.

The Archlord quirked a brow and spoke out, his voice firm. "You're one of the people that just came in ma'am?" He asked, turning bodily to face the moving figure.

[member="Vorian Adasca"], [member="Nick Imura"], [member="Lethia Morow"], [member="Arisa Yune"], [member="Aria Vale"], [member="Darth Rage"], [member="Pravus Zambrano"], [member="Loxa Visl"], [member="Lan Graendal"], [member="Antherion"]