shapes of men nor beasts
PERNICIOUS
causing harm in a subtle or indirect way, often through someone else's experience or actions.
causing harm in a subtle or indirect way, often through someone else's experience or actions.
LOCATION: Ambria
- Base of Tiernvael Mountain
DATE & TIME: High noon
HEALTH: High
MENTAL STATE: clear, focused
SONGS: Bela Lugosi's dead, Angel
He had always felt at home in the desert. The isolation of himself from the world was powerful, and deafening. Surrounded by nothing but sand and heat, life impossible to sustain in just unrelenting conditions. Never mind the lack of food and water, it was the silence that would get to you. There was only silence. Silence and sand. Both felt like weapons in their own right.
Silence was virulent in it's unspoken hostility and weight. Seeping into your pores over time, infecting your body and brain with something thick and suffocating. A virus expelling some neurotoxin, pitting your own thoughts against you. Dulling you down into something unrecognizable, animalistic. It peeled back your socialized layers to expose something primitive and raw, a blubbering beast that shrieked and shivered. It sickens you. Silence smothers any comfort you once had, choking the air around you so that you are inconceivably trapped. You have nowhere to go but in, in to that vile savage that claws at the bars of its cage - waiting for it's chance to rip free. Facing such a demon never ends well, it is barbaric and devoid of anything you might recognize, and that of course scares you. It intends to hurt, that much is clear. The silence will break you down and watch you crumble, your dust mixing with the sand once beneath your feet
And the sand…the sand ripped at your skin with every step. The grains slipping by one another with each small disturbance, grinding against themselves like a blade that is being sharpened. They watched and waited, waiting for you yet again. With each step you took, their tiny hands reached out to you insidiously, pulling you deep into their cushioned footing. They would wrap around your ankles and spill between your toes, engulfing you in a blanket of suspense. They too wished to trap, to ensnare you in their sinking depths. Why would they want you though? I suppose the desert does not discriminate. A life does not belong in the desert. Only souls.
Despite all this, Pod found his comfort here. He liked the hostility. The hidden hostility, something masked that lurked just within and without him. Threading itself between his world and theirs, something inexplainable in itself. Deserts always had such a powerful essence to them, and he enjoyed experiencing it. He had been to enough by now that the silence wasn't as cruel, it still bit and snapped at him but he had figured out some sort of way to fend it off, at least for a little bit. Perhaps 'fending off' is not a correct term for his feelings towards it, rather a mutual acknowledgement of the other. Rather than fight such a stillness, Pod was more inclined to let it in on his own. To accept and appreciate the hush, respecting the solemnity of such a beast. And a beast it was.
He stood now, welcomed by the vast emptiness of Ambria. Almost completely uninhabited, save for some Hssiss, neeks, and staga. There were some small, very scattered groupings of jedi encampments as well. All of these were close to the Tiernvael Mountains, which in turn was close to the jedi's sacred meditative canyon. A canyon with a twisted past, the force oozed from it like an old infected wound. The planet itself had been a sith fortress at one point, chosen as a settlement due to it's valuable mining operations. It had been ruled by a sith sorceress, one intent on binding the entire planet to her will through a sith ritual. In her attempt to do so she was killed, but not before unleashing the extent of her power on the planet and imbuing what survived with the dark side. Her mass destruction was devastating, killing off nearly all signs of life. Because of this it has been untouched for thousands of years, the planet still dripping with dark side. It was evil, truly, but the more reclusive jedis had found it to be a safe haven. They were secretive and spent most of their time meditating in crystalline caves that lined a force-rich canyon, soaking up what they could. They never ventured far, as the world was rife with possessed beings and malevolent sith spirits. The world itself was largely unexplored due to this, the caves and canyon itself has never been fully documented by any individual - it was far too dangerous. Nothing was known of the planet past the Tiernvael Mountains, but one could imagine. It was a situation that had adventurers like Pod frothing at the mouth and chomping at the bit… the danger… the unknown… the thrill…
He knew he would not stand a chance against some powerful sith spirit, his relationship with the force was a passive one. He could not compete against their dark side. But he figured that was okay, he could at least fend off any possessed minions for a temporary period. Thats all he really needed - time. Pod had been contacted anonymously to acquire something in the cave. This was not abnormal, over the course of 133 years in the galaxy as a treasure hunter and pirate it was easy to build up a name for himself...and in turn a collection of more underhanded customers. His web of connections was vast, his fishers net was always filled with wriggling creatures when he reeled it in. He was known for a broad assortment of skills and professions, and truly it depended on who you asked about it.
To some he was a political archeologist and treasure hunter, a professional who was highly knowledgeable in antiques and curio. He was capable with his exploration and adventure, a trusted collector of artifacts and relics. To others he was a stealthy swindler, a looter and pilferer who would do just about anything to secure the prize. He had remarkable intuition and years of physical training to leave him silent and discreet, a shadow in the night that scurried on padded feet. He was someone to contact if you needed something found or retrieved, something thieved, something of high value that would require the most covert of operations to acquire. To others he was merely a death stick dealer. A low life, a pig who rooted in the mud and preyed on those less fortunate than he. This was all among the other descriptors that came to mind when one thought of Pod the Pirate. Scoundrel, scavenger, spy, stalker, subtle, sophisticated, sturdy, shrewd, secretive. Shapeshifter. His line of work and experience in doing so was extensive and in excess, a plethora of accomplishments that was rarely seen elsewhere. Again, as 'old' as he was, his reputation did have a tendency to precede him - with the right audience of course. POD - the name that dribbled from everyone's lips like resined honey.
His contractor was someone favoring their anonymity, that was something Pod could understand completely. He had been reached out to via encrypted signals in his ship, an encoded message enlisting his help in securing a crystalized skull that was seemingly known to be in one of the caves on Ambria. For thousands of years it sat in the cave's mineralized water, crystalizing into something unrecognizable. Horned and disfigured, surely it must've belonged to one of the sith. The story goes that dark power seeped from it's cracks, lighting the air around it with frightening electricity. They wanted it. Their intent with it was unclear, but there was a promise to let him in on the secret if he could first manage to get his little grubby paws on it. Of course…there was a hefty exchange of credits into Pod's bank account as well…and Pod was the first to admit his affinity for extravagant living. Decked out in fine cloth and luxurious jewelry, he would not say no to a heap of new wealth. Part of him figured he was merely cannon fodder for this cave, as he was well aware of the rich, devilish energy that transuded from every curve and crack on this wretched planet. He had done his research, and still he was ready.
Standing before him now, with it's stalagmites and tites bared in a ghoulish snarl, was the cave. The cemetery gates. This is where he would be swallowed whole.
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