Not Alone

[Souras Amur]

[SIZE=11pt]The melodic buzzing generated by the myriad of machinery built in to the ship made it very easy for Souras Amur to meditate.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt] He enjoyed the quiet and solace during these routine travels. It gave him ample opportunity to think, grow, and prepare for whatever he might have to face on his journey. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt] Sitting behind the cockpilot of his ship, a rusty and worn down but still ever functional VCX-100, his mind was lost to the trance of meditation, eyes shut to the surreal plane of hyperspace that was laid out before him. He had never bothered to fly his ship himself on his ventures, keeping it on autopilot. He had decided to dedicate the extra time he had in his travels to clear his head, seek guidance and strengthen himself for the obstacles that were laid out ahead of him. And as always, such obstacles were grave. He had always found that in order to achieve true power, true knowledge of the Dark Side, one had to undergo a sacrifice of a part of himself in return. But of course, the offer was always there, omnipresent, for one to accept if they so desired…[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt] Amur’s meditation was quickly interrupted by the sudden burst of sound that arose as the ship arrived at its destination. His eyes peaked open, and caught sight of the dark yet ethereal beauty of the planet his ship was about to land on: Moraband. The ancient home planet of the Sith. The Force had guided him here for a reason; a vast swath of holocrons and artifacts for him to collect. But he wasn’t here just for any trinket; a tome in his collection had hinted at it only once in its pages, and it referenced a collection of untold, forgotten power hidden in its core. And his curiosity had indubitably gotten the better of him.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt] The old cruiser was awkwardly ungraceful in its landing down on the barren planet, but the intent was to not be seen in the first place. As the ship landed, Amur pulled himself up from his seated position and grabbed his lightsaber, attaching it to his belt. He pressed a button on the wall of the ship, and a ramp began to lower itself, extending down to the sandy ground below. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt] Souras’s worn leather boots slowly made their way down the metallic ramp, making soft reverberations. As he stepped onto the seemingly untrodden-before sand, a sudden chill went up his spine and poured into his spirit. It was as if he was stepping on hollowed ground, ground he had no right to travel on. But this newfound fear did nothing but invigorate and strengthen him and his resolve; he would find what he was looking for. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt] In some sense, his expectations were wildly without precedent. He had suspected to find a days were of desert to trail upon before he found his destination. Yet, before his eyes he saw mile upon mile of graves, chambers, winding paths, runes. And far away in the distance, he saw his first stop: several massive stone monuments, hooded figures bowing their heads subserviently, and behind them, a weathered stone temple. It was as if they were submitting to the will of any figures possessing the temerity to enter the building they dedicated their lives to guard. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt] And he so began his long trudge to the temple, to the Valley of the Dark Lords. With each step he kicked up dust that hadn’t been disturbed for centuries, but the darkness of the night concealed its presence in the air. As he moved closer to the building, it was as if it was moving towards him. The monuments ahead, upon nearer inspection, had an almost frightening, otherworldly attribute to them, as if in some way they were alive, staring down at the visitor behind their hoods. It seemed their very construction, besides being built as “spiritual offering”, was intended to be a deterrent from any wanderers intent upon unearthing whatever dormant artifacts they were searching for. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt] It was a steady 5 minute travel from his landing to his destination. And as he grew nearer, he would only just begin to fully comprehend the full power emanating from the location. Whispers in the air began to flood his ear, evolving from low, barely audible nothings to loud, ear-ringing screams. Ancient sith incantations, recitals of long lost tomes, secrets now only found in legends. And every so often, in a moment where he cared to focus on the chaos of emanations erupting into his ear, he could hear a loud, almost desperate voice, commanding him to turn back. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt] But he refused. He would not be taunted by the apparitions of long past. He focused on his fear, his anger, and used it to drive him forward.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt] The long, painful walk to the temple proved fruitful. Slowly he trudged up the chipped-away stone steps, and as he reached the entrance, the voices he had experience came to a sudden, rumbling, climatic halt. And the darkness in front of him seemed to subsist with a dim light, highlighting a path for him. As if he was being challenged to press on. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt] And he was about to accept the challenge, his vision was dragged away from the path to that of a low rumble being exuded from the atmosphere. A small dot in the sky grew to the shape of an aircraft entering the planet. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt] He was not alone anymore...[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt][member="Curtis Learchin"][/SIZE]

 

[Curtis Learchin]

Curtis wondered why he had never visited Moraband before now. The planet was steeped in history linking it to the dark side, and although conquered many times, still had secrets to be unearthed. It was one of the few sacred places for the Sith, a burial ground for their greatest leaders, warriors, sorcerers and scholars. With each was buried an artifact, something that was more powerful than one could ever guess. Many of them had been raided or destroyed, but some remained, waiting for the right hands to clutch at the power held within.

His ship descended to the planet, creating a piercing light upon entry to the planet's atmosphere. Landing in the clearing he disembarked, swordstaff in hand as always. He was not one to underestimate the dangers of the galaxy, he had seen enough of it since his master left to know that being armed and armoured was the best and only defence. Great towering monuments to the Dark Lords of old stood in the distance of his landing area, and that was where he was heading. With the intense force energy it was hard for Curtis to sense life around him, almost as if the planet itself was trying to make the journey as hard as possible.

After a time, Curtis reached a small alcove that overlooked a vast valley where the monuments stood. He stood, almost mesmerised by the sight, before his eye caught something in the distance. A ship. He was definitely not alone. Dropping to a crouch, he waited to see if anyone entered from the other end. Maybe this would be more fun than expected.

[member="Souras Amur"]

 

[Souras Amur]

As soon as he was alerted of the additional presence on the planet, he took the darkness of the temple, hoping that whoever had arrive hadn't spotted him. But he sensed strongly that whoever it was that found themselves on Moraband, he would make contact with very shortly.

In the meantime, however, he resigned his attention to the obstacles that might be present in the building. It was challenging enough having to navigate through the pitch black of the room he was in, and was left only to his senses. It was infuriating, tripping over fallen pieces of rubble and broken stone, but as his anger grew he told himself to focus on it, and clear his mind. Centering himself, he pressed onwards.

As he went further down the rabbit hole of the paths he was following, the voices had quickly returned, but much quieter, almost unrecognizable, as if they were subliminal. Whispers of warning, of tales of death to anyone who was foolish enough to come here.

But Souras laughed in the face of such threats, and threw them off as the remains of the voices of long dead man. Baseless warnings intended to frighten away weak-minded buffoons would not stop him on his quest for true power.

As he continued his journey, the path ahead of him abruptly ceased, ending with a seemingly massive stone wall. Amur ran his hand across the wall, shoving off any dust that was in the vicinity of his palm, and it felt utterly unmovable. Stirdy and unbreakable.

But it would not deter him. Standing back, he prepared himself, and quickly released a powerful amount of force energy in the direction of the wall. Upon contact, he could hear it crumbling down in the pitch dark. There was something behind the wall...

Whatever he was looking for would reveal itself.

[member="Curtis Learchin"]

 

[Curtis Learchin]

After what felt like an age, Curtis stood from his perch. What he had thought was a man had headed into a temple below, but the distance between them was great, and reaching that man quickly was out of the question. So he began to scale down the alcove he had discovered, carefully climbing towards the valley below. Rocks and stones scattered to the ground below, and Curtis gripped with survivalist intent, the valley turning into an abyss that seemed to swallow anything that fell into it.

When the solid ground connected with his feet, Curtis let out a sigh of relief. He hadn't fallen to his death, and that was always a good thing. He began to trek towards the temple which the figure had entered, the darkness of it all was almost overwhelming, as if hearing the agonised screams of 100 damned souls all begging to be set free from their shackles. No wonder so many came here, it was a sea of dark intent that engulfed anything and everything, and much of that darkness was emanating from the temple ahead.

Curtis entered, swordstaff at the ready but aware that he couldn't sneak up on the figure. Despite the background noise of the ancient Sith, he could sense a living thing, and that was much clearer to him than any old scream.

[member="Souras Amur"]