The Duelist's Holocron

[Abelain Narv'uk]

The ship's engine cut off as the descent finally reached it's conclusion. The wisps of dust still sprinted away from the vessel when it opened up, revealing it's occupants. The pair of individuals stood for a moment, taking notice of the surroundings and cautiously ensuring that there was no immediate danger. The Sith worlds tended to host a variety of deadly and exotic fauna, and an encounter with one such beast could easily prove fatal for at least one of the two.

The stormtrooper ran a final checklist over his equipment, before turning and giving a salute to the other being inside of the shuttle. The other being stepped down off of the ramp, leaving the saluting trooper to continue his actions, and ignoring him until he had fully removed himself from the ship. Taking a breath of the frigid air of Korriban, the Arue'tii spun around, acknowledging the obedient soldier.

"Private Stall, you shall await my return to the vessel and ensure that it is protected from any dangers. Should the ship be damaged in any matter, I shall hold you personally accountable."

The words were not tinged with any malice as many Sith had the habit of importing into their orders, but the voice was neither jesting nor casual. The stormtrooper responded with another salute, punctuated by the respectful title "Sir" , and began punching in a set of buttons to close the ramp of the shuttle. Alone with only his thoughts, Abelain faced the distant and foreboding ruins. Sucking in a breath of air, he began to stride towards them. The temperature was cold, and the Arue'tii had to fight a natural response to burrow back into the shuttle, to stay in the guaranteed warmth that it provided.

A gust of wind interrupted his thoughts, chilling his hide and forcing his red cape to dance madly in the breeze. If Abelain stayed long on Korriban, it may very well seal his fate. Thankfully, the journey would not last much longer, and in a few minutes he was in front of the entrance to the place. It seemed run down to him; though what would one expect from ruins, and for the briefest instance he debated whether or not the entry would be safe. Safety was not for cowards, and; by that reasoning, neither was caution. Abelain cautiously entered, listening to the scratching of rodents as they scurried away in the dark corners. The chamber that he found himself in seemed to have had a leak at some point, indicated by the constant plink-plink-plink that sounded periodically. Still, despite the utter lack of decorum, it was warmer inside where the walls blocked some of the horrid wind's frosty bite.

Looking off into the corridors and pathways which accompanied the antechamber, Abelain reflected on his reasoning for coming to this place. The rumors had stated that a holocron; a devise for storing Force information, had once been buried in this place among the corpses of the long forgotten dead. The rumor had listed a name as well; Tulak Hord, master duelist and Sith.

Further investigation into ancient history brought forth that Hord had been buried on ancient Korriban, and Abelain's tracking had brought him to this isolated and broken place. The act of searching so deeply into forgotten passages brought a twinge of fear to the heart of the Arue'tii, he did not wish to become lost, but if he did not search it would seem there was no way he would find the prestiged treasure. Standing in the center of the antechamber, he began to consider his options, examining each passage in hopes that they would reveal a clue upon where to set his path.

[member="The Talatheen Amalgam"]

 

[The Talatheen Amalgam]

[member="Abelain Narv'uk"]

Deep within the chambers of Tulak Hord's sepulcher lain in bleak stone, wrought by hand, three statues, arms lapsed into wide berth, shadowing over the central podium; a podium decorated by the cardinal symbols: North, a wall, cracked and broken, leaking some liquid - perhaps drawn from an ancient aqueduct, still running lively with fluid; East, where a frigid wind blew, nicking the skin with goosebumps, and signaled the reality of the entrance, or exit, to the malevolent tomb; South, the sole direction without an earthen warden, where a great door expanded, though closed, to a vast unknown; and West, where a great many bones lay, fractured and brown with decay, as they melted to dust. Each statue held a rod, one wrought with some strange metal - at least from what Talatheen could realize; long have they been coated in dust, and from them seeped a dark aura; a power, long since lost and forgotten. He stood upon the aforementioned podium hitherto, grim robes draping over him as a burial shroud, veiling the malformed thing beneath. It was with great ambition he drew upon such a place; he sought the passion of revelation: the emotion exploding from the stirring of the soul upon the presence of such hallowed ground.

Through passion: power; a power he would embrace with arms, arms which opened wide in embrace upon the stone. His metal helmet whispered dry heaves as his breathing grew heavy; he was perspiring beneath the metal, despite the tomb-riddled chill that vibrantly haunted the great grave. He exerted power in turn but not enough; the tomb shunned him. His hands lowered, clenching in anger; worthless within the labyrinth - he was dust - no, not even that. He was nothing but a rage; a deep ire that expelled his frustration, exalted it. He drew back a hand and, through the fetters of the Force, gripped chunks of rubble, and heaved it towards the heavy stone door of the vault, crashing against the engraving, yet leaving no mark. He rendered himself exhausted through this practice, barfing up coughs of weariness; yet, this did little to stagnate his anger. He drew his blaster, a heavy thing, weighted in durasteel and augments: Red Ice, his personal rifle - pulled from a dark leather holster that dangled, unassumingly, from his waist. It was heavy, but it unleashed little in return save for what it held in flexibility. He shot, red bolts slamming against he stone; sparks fell, alighting the tomb in furious incandescence - nothing came of it.

As smoke rose from his rifle - the energy cell magazine had been depleted - he allowed his arms to slacken, the blaster lowered away from sight to the folds of cloth. It was hopeless, he realized sorrowfully - he alone was not enough to gain entrance to the Tomb of Tulak Hord; it was with this he departed, depressed. He sought to prove himself, he had spurned his master upon departure; nothing was left to come back to, empty-handed. As he entered the long corridor, littered with scrap metal and rubble, he brushed past the brown nocturnal ferns which sprouted from the wall, thirsting for sunlight. Something loomed upon the shadowy distance - a terentatek perhaps? Together, they broke unity: "Brother, what is it you're- you are doing?" inquired Hu with demanding tone, him being the intellectual mind of the Amalgam; a inquiry which Daska, the body, responded, "What must can- must done... as Aphos would say maybe- perhaps? No, he wouldn't- would not understand; too simple... no, no. He is too proud- No! He is too ignorant to the realities of beyond the flesh. A bleeding."

"A bleeding?"

"Pierce the veil of weakness; we must grow... stronger."

He flipped a switch upon the rifle, a hiss, or chirp rather, emanated from the rifle as the magazine divided from the well; it fell to the earth with a clatter. He drew a blue hand deep within the folds of his robes, gathering forth another cell. Slamming it forth into Red Ice, the blaster hummer with refound life; a sound which soothed Daska, but further Hu's vigorous disregard for his sibling's philosophy. "Daksa!" exclaimed the parasitic Hu, his voice echoing sharply from the bronze mask; "Relinquish your shame; it was meant to keep out all who are bot worthy - we can not be anything... anything until we are together. Do not seek to jump so far ahead our yourself- ourselves!" Perhaps, initially, Daska intended to answer his brothers doubts, maybe not; but all fell silent upon the following few steps. As the Amalgam sought to reclaim unity, they found themselves turned around, three hundred and sixty degrees, directly back to the room from before, the podium, the door breaching the inner vault of Tulak Hord. Daska was baffled, Hu sought not to question; instead, mentally, combated for control - to reaffirm unity, forcing struggle before the gate. From this flux of conscious energy, assailing for control of a conjoined body, something dark pulsated within - a pulse to which the rods reacted, and hummed menacingly.

 

[Abelain Narv'uk]

[member="The Talatheen Amalgam"]

The indicator of direction came in the crack of a blaster. The explorer could not quite tell how far away the noise was, but it seemed to not be so far, and moving down the corridor from which the noise had sounded he listened intently for the noise to repeat itself. The listening was disappointed, no further sound of blasters erupted from deep within. For the briefest of moments, Abelain believed that he had spotted another being somewhere deep within the corridor, obscured in shadow. His hands dropped to his sides, laying calmly upon the lightsaber he had plundered from a long-dead Iridonian, and upon the Sith vibroblade inscribed with it's arcane code. It seemed very possible that a scavenging animal was plundering the tombs of the deceased, in search of tasty morsels of those not yet decayed.

Moving slowly down the dark corridor, Abelain found his olfactory sense tingling with a familiar feeling. Blood. The scent of the blood of whatever the being had been assaulted him, and he felt satisfaction at re-affirming that whatever creature was trapped inside with him was not an incorporeal come to reap havoc upon him, but simply a mortal being. The scent was exotic, something that he had not yet encountered, though it seemed to tickle his mind as if though he had in fact scented it before. The Arue'tii could not quite determine what the being he would encounter was, though he was prepared should it prove hostile.

The Arue'tii nearly tripped over some of the debris that littered the corridor, but spread his hands out along it's cold and rough sides to keep his balance. His cape scraped gently against various pieces of scrap and stone, creating a light hiss of contact. His hand brushed against something as he stepped over another chunk of rock, something that moved when he touched it, in fact it was brisk feeling, as if though it's parts might snap off with the gentlest effort. The appendage retracted immediately, going for the lightsaber at his side before realization followed that what he had touched was in fact a plant. The shame he felt at being frightened by such a thing was diminished by his being alone. Steeling himself once more and; hoping that the noise from his jolt of panic had not alerted whatever stalked the corridors, he continued.

The voice brought strange images to Abelain's mind of what this being truly was, especially since it sounded like it was speaking to itself. The entryway seemed colder, and the breeze indicated to the Arue'tii that there must be an opening somewhere to the outside. With a light shudder, he peeked into the room, taking account of the liquid seeping off of the Northern wall. What truly caught Abelain's eye however were the ancient statues littering the room, humming with a malevolent stillness that threatened to drown out the other sounds in the room. The air held a certain stuffiness, as though clogged with dust, the cause of which was likely the amassed pile of bones in the West. Curiosity wondered whether the remains were those of the Sith duelist who he searched for, though it seemed unlikely he would allow himself to be torn and fractured so carelessly, he would have demanded a coffin or at the least something to keep out the rodents that undeniably sought sustenance from the remains.

In the only piece of the room not containing one of the malignant statues stood the creature whose reeking blood still filled the olfactory sense of Abelain. The individual; for it was obviously not a wild animal, clutched a blaster in it's hand and seemed to be attempting to gain entry into the great doorway that stood before it. The most likely answer to the behavior of the individual and their reason for being present seemed to be that they were a looter, desecrating the tombs of the fallen in search of petty treasures and trinkets. Stepping fully into the room, cape catching at the dust laden walls, Abelain spoke: "Whom are you? Why have you come here to the eternal resting grounds."

 

[The Talatheen Amalgam]

[member="Abelain Narv'uk"]

The nature of the stranger was quick to ignite some false sense of instinct within the pair: to retract their duality. The moment the Amalgam became privy to the azure humanoid, all self-conflict (or in general, conflict, to those beyond the reach of their philosophy) halted; the normality of their past decorum returning, along with the successful stifling of their collective rage. Their fangs had been draw back beneath the lips, the membrane of social pandering - even though the conscious Self/selves did not recognize Abelain as a target of speech; it was the unconscious connection through the Force that read his intent, one that screamed for speech over hostility. With the bidden burying of his rage, so too did the hum of malice fade from the rods; all dark emotion vanishing from the room, replaced by stiff distrust and natural curiosity. Intelligent animals fear what is different - it a natural occurence in life; the two were mightily different in stature, poise, intent, and morals - and as nothing more than intelligent animals, they stood, observing. Should either make a sudden move, it would likely inspire fear, resulting in wanton violence or retreat; yet, curiosity reigned supreme, and playing upon such instinct, the Amalgam, in demonstration of the capacitity of its singularity, moved slowly in response - unknowingly attempting to illicit no fear.

He drew himself to face the stranger - an acolyte like himself, though unbeknownst to him entirely; his feet spun upon the podium. He had returned there, in the time during his fight, and now stood above the figure who encroached on his work; his head cascaded in metal frame which eluded to no organic source - it was entirely mechanical, with no understandable visage from which he imbibed the world, and fragmented eye contact because of it. He made no attempt to discard his blaster rifle, hanging from a single iron grip; his left arm, creaking with the motion of what was clearly mechanical in nature, rose a hand, motioning the stranger to pause. He was careful not to make any distinct motion with his gun-toting hand however; it might leave the intruder prone to react out of misguided self-preservation. "We- I'm- I am Talatheen," he began, his voice deep and booming, rumbling from his stomach and running along synthetic cords; "Come- I have come to... prove? No... provide? No... I've- I have come to bear witness to what lies within the tomb of Tulak Hord. I seek to demonstrate my own... prowess. My presence of darkness." To this he expanded his arms to embrace the air, releasing his grip on Red Ice, the rifle, and allowing it to crash painfully to the floor, scratching the durasteel butt and denting it slightly.

It came sudden, but it was there; a hatred for the man, for intruding so haughtily upon his rite. Was it the thing's fault he could not succeed; was he sabotaging it? Talatheen shook off the hatred, but in the brief consideration the rods moaned in response. His arm fell, almost with defeat - but not with defeat, with acceptance. He doubted he could make the man leave if he willed it, which he almost did; but, rather, perhaps he could make use of it? No, he would allow it, it would be unlikely he would intrude any further if he- if they themselves could not progress deeper into the labyrinth of the grave. He flexed his fingers, the rifle snapping forth into his grip through the taut guidance of the Force; he made no comment of this - it was purposeful, a demonstration that, should the man be some sentinel or protector he had some semblance of right, of blood, to be here; or, if he was a simple looter, that he should vacate his presence. Regardless of what the man thought, he made his speculations clear: "You... you would not be here if you lacked... purpose. No, if you lacked... Pride? Perhaps, but not specific enough. If you haven't... have not fear? Yes, might be that. Even then, it is not enough to breach the vault - I have tried, long and true; it is sealed by ancient Sith Sorcery, it would seem. It is impossible."

 

[Abelain Narv'uk]

[member="The Talatheen Amalgam"]

The hands of the Arue'tii hovered nearby where it's weapons were, awaiting for the inferior species to suddenly turn and prove that it was not an individual, but a manifestation of life created to guard the place. Indeed, upon further reflection, the masked individual seemed very much like those beings from age old stories which protect precious things with their unimaginable power and wit. Usually, Abelain held a certain disdain for individuals with masks, he saw them as a weakness used to conceal oneself so as to avoid any consequences for their actions, to delve into anonymity for fear of reprisal. However, the mask that presented itself before him seemed to be exquisitely crafted in a way that made it unique and supernatural in the eyes of the Arue'tii.

The scent of blood helped to fill another link in the theory that this being was not a looter, but rather a protector of this sacred and dark place. The humming stopped around them, and it seemed to Abelain that he had interrupted a ritual being conducted by the guardian. The blood also held the hint of mortality however, and that snapped Abelain back into the present circumstances. If he were to be attacked by the aberration, he would certainly slay it where it stood and indulge in the secret wisdoms that it proclaimed dominion over. Such were the thoughts of a species that refused to believe any alien could be greater than they were, that they were the the final stepping stone until they would be joined in unity with the One Escalation.

The masked individual spoke, it's voice seeming to rattle the structure around them, though the voice was salted with a hint of metal, indicating that it was artificial more than natural. It seemed curious to the Arue'tii that this being would be a mixture of both organic and machine, though it was not unheard of for such things to occur. Abelain listened intently to the voice of the guardian, awaiting it's response to his own inquiry and aiming to solidify the identity he had already placed upon the strange and morbid inferior. The next words however, did not solidify the identity, but instead dissolved it completely.

He had been drawn in by the appearance of such a strange individual, and had jumped to an incorrect assumption as to it's nature. Mental notes were made to be more patient, and not to generalize others. The masked one had come to bear witness to the tomb of Tulak Hord in order to present it's own power. It was benevolent guidance from the One Escalation that had lead him to this individual who would point him in the right direction in his task for the priceless Holocron. The masked one moved his arms, allowing it's weapon to clatter to the ground.

The carefulness that the masked one took to not point it's weapon at the Arue'tii, and his subsequent retrieval of it with the Force were noted. The movements seemed intentional to the explorer, as if though to demonstrate that it had a weapon, but did not require one with it's proficiency in the Force. It was a statement that the masked being belonged, and that the Arue'tii was intruding, one that would be met with it's own subtle body language. His finger tapped gently against the hilt of the lightsaber at his side, allowing for the gentle tinny noise to fill the air between them, even for a briefest moment. It was his own way of stating that he belonged in this place, even if he did not possess the mental abilities that the masked one was blessed with using.

"You are wise to believe I have come with purpose. Yes, I have come seeking the hidden Holocron of Tulak Hord, whose tomb we now stand in."

The masked one did not think that they could open the tomb, but Abelain would not allow a chunk of stone and metal to stop his journey to find the Holocron. Still, it meant that he would likely need to cooperate with the strange masked one.

"I am Abelain Narv'uk, descendant of Sarith, and explorer of the Order of Hazarin. Who are you, and where do your loyalties lie?"

 

[The Talatheen Amalgam]

[member="Abelain Narv'uk"]

"Holocron of Tulak Hord," repeated the Amalgam, his cybernetically enchanted voice ranging to grumbling, static in tone, to a sudden cadence: "Ablain Narv'uk, descendant of Sarith, and explorer of the Order of Hazarin; we- I shall honor you, in part, by departing... sharing? -sharing my name in full, as you have done." His elbow pistoned the lifting of the rifle, which, heavily, was craned and dropped back into its holster with a rather noticeable tug upon the body's center of mass - slightly tilting it towards said side; it was heavier than it looked, certainly - though Talatheen took no care to notice. He recognize opportunity - a hidden Holocron, it was a treasure worth retrieving; he held knowledge of the tomb, indeed, but not of this savory delight, tucked away within the derelict tomb. The less mysteries between him and the man, even his own, the better; this line of thought led him to a stunning revelation, rarely divulged: a hand ran along the cheek of his mask - Hu intended to speak; a rare occurrence. From the hollow casket of the mask a new voice emanated; it was hollow and whisper, but spoke with far more intensity than his fellow articulator - with each stringing of the vocal cords, its voice boomed with intensity beyond the ear, locked within a sixth sense:

"We are brothers Talatheen: Daska, of the Body - Hu, of the Mind; descendants of Darth Fathion, Dark Lord of the Sith, and Alysa Talatheen, concubine of Ryloth; followers of the Order of the Dead Sun; apprentice to Lord Album Pruina, also Dark Lord of the Sith."

"My loyalties are my own however; but in my quest to explore the tombs, to ingrain myself with the pleasures of the dark... the malevolent presences locked away within this... Hell... I know of a way to navigate its mazes and traps - and have knowledge of some aberrations which lurks below." He spoke with far more ardor and commanded much less hesitation than his apparent sibling, Daska; his brother was next to speak, though the body never changed its poise to assume as much: "Brother- ah, Hu! We don't- do not need the help of a thing of unknown-ness- ah, a thing of the unknown!" It was through this Hu waved a hand - he had assumed domination, as per usual, and through his bitter magic forced Daska's jaw shut; he could only moan, disturbingly in protest. Seductively, though with not carnal lust but greed, the amalgam descended from the podium, and outstretched hand, with gaunt fingers, expelled to him; "I apologize for that. Abelain Narv'uk, descendant of Sarith, and explorer of the Order of Hazarin... my power has not yet evolved, we are divided - split in the womb. We are less than a man, an Acolyte of the Sith, but you... regardless of strength, will be able to help me- ah, us, unlock the secrets of this catacomb."

His hand never fully outstretched to him however, and, rather, waved across the length of the room's breadth; still, no intelligence, or discernible feature, could be witnessed upon this mask, save for a pair of horns which perked up and impaled the arid sky's breath above the Amalgam's crown. "Tulak Hord - he was a duelist, finest of his time, perhaps since; he was also a fan of puzzles, traps, riddles, it would seem. Without the hyperbole: he guarded his secrets closely - a thousand locks remain between us and the final resting place of his treasures. That also regards measures of... security. You have passed the antechamber, the vaults that followed - the failed Red Machine, should it remain... deeper, still, lays his secrets; a holocron? That would be there - but I, too, have a price for my cooperation. You will die alone in there, provided you breach the entrance; you cannot navigate it, much less evoke the solutions to the puzzles within. A vault, hidden; beyond this door - pools of toxin, spirits of the damned; creatures and sites of legend lost to the passage of malodorous time. Take me - and share this knowledge."

 

[Abelain Narv'uk]

[member="The Talatheen Amalgam"]

The two were one. It was a frightening realization that struck Abelain the instant that he heard the second voice speak from somewhere within the masked abomination's cheek. These ones were not the guardians that he had assumed only moments ago, but they still held onto the same enigmatic presence that first made him believe they were beings of legend. They were two beings trapped into one body, a pitiful fate for any sentient life and something that completely explained their reliance on the mask. Were people to see such an amalgamation they would react with fear and hunt it down. The brothers Talatheen did not wear their mask to simply become anonymous; it was their means of survival.

The second voice felt far more articulate, the whispers travelling through the chamber with a strange intensity. The brother of the mind; Hu, had apparently taken over control of the body for the time being, though he was interrupted by Daska who pleaded that they did not require a thing of the unknown. Abelain considered this, twitching ever so slightly at the next gust of chill air which slapped him in the back, curling his cape around his right side. Hu was in command, the outstretching of the hand solidified that position. Acolyte of the Sith struck him as only momentarily surprising, especially with the beings that they seemed to allow into that sacred order.

Tulak Hord; at least according to Hu, was an practitioner of enacting traps and puzzles throughout his tomb, likely to assist with keeping out the savage looters and scavengers that inevitably came to places such as these. The Talatheen promised that the Holocron would likely be deeper inside, hidden away in a shadowy vault. The traps of the tomb were indeed horrific, the pools of acid may or may not have eaten through his hide and melted his flesh, and though he was mighty, beasts were sometimes stronger than even the Arue'tii. In total, the place sounded like the malignant gift of painful death personified.

"You know of the traps and puzzles hidden within this tomb, and you believe that you may navigate them to our mutual benefit. I entrust you with my confidence, and shall agree to assist you in this daunting endeavor. If your price is only the sharing of knowledge, then I have no authority to keep it from you. How must we open this gate to enter into this enchanted field of despair?"

If the Talatheen truly believed that it could lead them through the tomb, then Abelain was not so prideful as to turn down their assistance. In return, they seemed to require his own, and that made their endeavor a necessary partnership. "With a thousand locks, we shall need a thousand keys" he spoke, the wistful tone of his voice indicating that he did not speak literally, but rather in a metaphorical sense.

 

[The Talatheen Amalgam]

[member="Abelain Narv'uk"]

"A strange riddle, or perhaps enigma; a puzzle within itself, composed of words - perhaps with physical correlation? No matter; the gate itself - a vault, impenetrable to means short of artillery; I know not what composes it, nor what other contraptions comprise its form... but its secretes lie within the podium," he turned, his eyes dancing across the macabre statues who made their presence - arms outstretched, gripping scepters of strange metals; "More importantly - these three statues." His hands clasped together, a breath drawn deep through the echoing throes of his mask; he had revealed himself in voice, but not in appearance - that was far too great a sacrifice, to expel the beauty of secrecy. "In the tombs of Naga Sadow, locked deep within those hidden chambers... Tulak Hord concealed his ancient ally, Khem Val, a dashade, in a hidden hall; its door, according to ancient tomes and documents, was locked. It was only then, during the Cold War, one was able to breach its entrance: Lord Kallig. He collected several rods - Hate; Fury; Wrath; and Despair - and used them to access some power to serve as a key to its entrance."

He drew himself to the nearest statue, the first as it were, located perfectly upon the eastern edge of the dial; its body identical to the others, a figure tall and void of form - no features etched upon the stone. Regardless, he held tall a stave - that which hummed with mystical power from earlier; as all did, though each felt peculiarly different - though the Amalgam himself could not discern how. Instead, he found himself pacing, restlessly, as always; his hands clasped, resting upon the small of his back - his fear of the individual long since dissipating - his stutter along with it. He was not wholly sure why, perhaps greed drove his comfort; yet it failed to dissolve his concern - in fact, it had enhanced it. He desired entry more than ever. A breeze haunted the tomb, tearing at his cloak with the strength of passing twigs, as one would walk through a lonely forest; the smells of dust and k'lor'slug excrement infiltrating his nose, carried by the wind. Where was the key to this entrance? The rods were the key - what would he have to do to access their secrets?

 

[Abelain Narv'uk]

According to the Talatheen brethren, the gate itself was impenetrable to essentially anything that did not amount to explosives. It may have been a much more expedient process if either of them had brought such devices, but Abelain did not have need of them, and it seemed as though the Talatheen had not required them either. The Arue'tii found his eyes drawn to the statues, they were simply made based on their lack of feature. However, they must have been more intricately designed than the first examination revealed, especially since they held the key to opening the mechanical blockade impeding their progress. It was a nuisance, one that he felt confident would be solved, though, his temperature was already beginning to fall and it became worryingly clear that he would need to heat himself soon.

Casting occasional glances at Talatheen as he worked on deciphering the nature of the gate and it's secrets, Abelain wondered about the type of life such a creature must have lived. Becoming permanently linked with another was strange in this realm, though in reality he didn't believe something far off from that. All beings would eventually perish and be united with the One Escalation, but that union would be supported with the blissful essence of the previously fallen. Did it imply that the unholy union formed between the Talatheen was held together by an energy or a form, and if so, what form did it take? With a final glance at the amalgam, he concluded that the thing that bound it together must have been pain. Pain at being robbed of an individual existence, and hate for those who had caused such an abominable creation.

The history lesson that Talatheen imparted seemed to indicate that the rods being held by the statues were indeed the only way of progressing. Abelain thought back to the moment he had first entered the room, when the strange and malignant humming had filled the structure with its' music. "Hu. Daska. When I first entered the chamber, the humming was reaching a peak, however now they have all fallen silent. It seems likely to me then, that whatever actions were being undertaken by you was what triggered the response by the protective statues."

The Arue'tii continued his curious thinking, one dashing to the forefront of his mind and correlating evidence that he had just heard with the hypothesis he had formed. "You stated that in the tombs of Naga Sadow, there was a contraption similar to the one lain before us. They were rods with the titles of Hate and Fury, Wrath, and Despair." He considered the Force, and how it surrounded all things, could it not also be given awareness over these rods and their surroundings? It was a convoluted idea, one that he himself didn't quite understand, but perhaps Talatheen with his expertise at the mental faculties would be able to benefit from the idea. "If we were to allow ourselves to become filled with such emotions, might the rods become enamored with us and release the mechanisms holding the gate closed?"

[member="The Talatheen Amalgam"]

 

[The Talatheen Amalgam]

[member="Abelain Narv'uk"]

"Emotion," he repeated; his eyes expanding their visage upon the broken circle of statues whose shadows fell upon the podium. He was unsure from where light came from - perhaps cracks in the ceiling, hidden illumination of bright incandescence; it was is if he was, for the first time, imbibing the scenery. "An excellent observation; perhaps Lord Kallig had opened a path to the tomb of Khem Val by tapping into the related emotions - yes, that must be how. However, what is it that these three rods react to? One... I felt- no, I was drinking the elixirs of hate? No, I was fighting myself- no that was... Hu? Hu wanted control- ah, power? Neigh, Hunger. Darth Nihilus perhaps? No, this was before his time - this was a hunger for power, not that of the Force." He drew his conclusions, his hands balling into taut fists; he had caught onto the thread of a quilt of secrets - he would render it undone. "Power - ah, and... Distrust?" He eyed the strange creature for a second - he had never seen one of its specie before; it was foreign, different - something of which he had never encountered before. Like every animal: "Fear," he said solemnly.

He was confident in these conclusions, though he could not decipher the final: the third rod from which he could connect - a key of emotion. Hate, fury, wrath, and despair; what correlation did they have between - ah, it was another puzzle within the already stupefying riddle - one he felt almost too exhausted to solve. He drove a hand to his oreborne brow, scraping over the transparisteel window that rested upon his forehead - a scanner; a hint to the reality beneath, but subtle. "I had not yet reveled in a third emotion," he said finally, turning, his cloak flying about his form with the sudden angle of direction; he stepped from the podium and reached the door - what a large door. It was the entrance to the vault - thick, engraved in weathered runes and symbols he could neither recognize nor translate; he had studied maps, he had studied history and legend - nothing led him to these correlations, nothing brought him the answer. The tomb was ghastly in silence, he could not draw upon any hint - nor could he revel in any success. He was frustrated - this frustration turning into hatred, which evolved into self-hatred; envy next, then that hunger. The rod hummed softly in response.

"Even with these emotions, how could we channel them into such unknown technologies? It is a blight, this lack of knowledge of mine."

 

[Abelain Narv'uk]

[member="The Talatheen Amalgam"]

The hope that Talatheen would be able to unravel pieces of the puzzle from his contribution seemed to prove correct. Abelain watched as the masked being went through a plethora of options, relating thoughts on ancient Sith that the Arue'tii had never heard about. The first emotion to be discovered was that of Power, that had been determined when Hu and Daska had been combating one another for control of their conjoined shell. The next emotion to be discovered had been fear, evidently incited by his own presence. That was a logical conclusion, it was unlikely that Talatheen had ever seen a creature like himself, and following that same line of thought, it seemed very reasonable that he himself had been afraid for a short while at encountering the enigmatic individual. Indeed, the entire place reeked of mystery and the undiscovered truths of long-dead beings that once roamed the world.

It was there that the trail seemed to stop. The explorer watched as his fellow adventurer strode towards the gateway. Following his lead, and hoping to contribute once more to their discussion, Abelain took steps towards the gateway as well, taking notice of the weathered engravings that identified it. Something about a set of the runes triggered a memory, and unconsciously the explorer reached for his side, slowly removing the Sith vibroblade stored away there with a gentle clink of sound. His movements remained careful and nonthreatening, cautious not to accidentally antagonize the Talatheen brethren.

Upon a closer examination of the sword, he found the item that must have reminded him. The sword itself was covered in the same type of rune as the gate, apparently marked with the ancient Sith dialects and arcane images of the time. While he could not read the sword, he distinctly remembered being told by his master that it recited the Sith code, something that may allow for a translation of the runes upon the gateway and a further clue to their journey. He shifted the blade so that it's face pointed towards Talatheen, running a finger along the arcane images and feeling their engraving within the sword, "Talatheen. The runes upon this vibroblade are the Sith code. I believe that the runes that are placed upon the sword and those on the gate are of similar lineage, and, as you and I are both Sith acolytes, it may be a simpler matter to decipher the runes upon the sword with our knowledge of the code, and then use that new found wisdom to unlock the hidden third emotion of the gate."

The only problem with the plan in his knowledge, was that some of the runes likely meant things as opposed to individual lettering in the way that many common and modern languages operated. "Even if it is an incomplete picture, we may be able to identify it's artist by their strokes."

 

[The Talatheen Amalgam]

[member="Abelain Narv'uk"]

"Sith lineage to be specific, I'd assume; the Sith are derived from initial inhabitants of Ziost and Korriban: the Sith specie. Most likely the runes are of a specific script like Common Sith, High Sith, and... Kittât? I couldn't tell; if there are corpses in the tomb we could compare the script - it would help determine the artist at least; the ancient Sith performed rituals that involved draping the mummies of the dead in shrouds emblazoned with Kittât script. I think that is our most likely suspect; High Sith usually involves ancient Sith hieroglyphs; Common Sith... it would not be fit upon such a tomb, one of a Dark Lord of the Sith, and it may have been developed later; but it would be best to confirm these suspicions." He directed his self away from the mysterious entrance and floated about throughout the room, scanning the bone-littered floor with a rather distrustful gaze; his arms both crossed over his veiled chest - clearly displaying his displeasure. "Avarice-ridden looters have likely plundered the dead; I studied linguistics of ancient sith dialects prior to my- ah, well I know a bit of the history, but Sith languages had fallen out of practice with my master. I won't be able to tell directly; but you-"

"We can search the tombs of Tulak Hord or those nearby," he interrupted - he was clearly bouncing about in his head, divided between different strains of thought that would, clearly, end abruptly with sudden jumps, leading from one strand to the next; "If we can decrypt its nature... Ah, and the blade- yes, your vibrosword; what's the nature of such a device? No, it's history - the history of that individual blade." He began pacing, as he usually did in thought; he was clever, yes - but it rarely showed through the usual tedium. He reveled this exalted moment to share his thought process, albeit with a complete stranger; "If both the blade and wall are written in Kittât script it would help far more than you realize; Kittât was far more specific than Galactic Basic Standard - hence why the modern Sith have departed this tradition. It was composed of about... forty? Thirty to forty glyphs, yes; it had around thirty to forty glyphs, safe to say: thirty-five, though probably not exact. I had about thirty-five glyphs, meaning that, what we can compose from the blade, would be... meaningless unless it correlates directly to what's written upon that blade. However, if it at least repeats some portions of it, we can perhaps use context clues from this and the other rods to attempt to... quote-unquote, 'translate it.' Or perhaps, us being Korriban, there may remain ways to decode this conundrum."

 

[Abelain Narv'uk]

[member="The Talatheen Amalgam"]

It became rapidly evident that the Talatheen brethren were well versed in the history and technicalities of the ancient Sith. This was notable in his speaking of not one language of the Sith, but rather three separate dialects. Thankfully, they were all of the same lineage, which meant that the vibroblade may yet have held value. The amalgam spoke of how finding a corpse would allow for them to compare the script with the specific language, apparently one dialect tended to wrap their dead in strange scripts. That seemed to be a very alien and odd way of burying the dead, but Abelain could see the effect that the ancients had been trying to convey; they were attempting to show off the acts of their fallen so as to allow for proper reverence to be given unto them.

Following such profound insights from Talatheen, was a stream of gibberish. There was no other way of describing the sudden sentences, starting and stopping without any observable trigger. Still, it seemed that the random sentences held nothing of value, as the next proposed step given by the amalgam was to search the nearby tombs to decide which dialect was being used. The question about the vibroblade caught him slightly off guard, though it was becoming clear to the Arue'tii that this was how the amalgam thought, in half constructed forms not so different from it's own body. "I do not know of the blades origins, however I was granted it by my master who was granted it by his master for use during training."

The knowledge that the Kittât dialect was even more specific than the standard language of Basic seemed to be a blessing. It would be even easier to decipher the wall if they were indeed in this Kittât form. The remainder of what Talatheen spoke seemed to be logical, even if it's wording may have confused a lesser being. They needed to understand at least what a few of the glyphs meant so that they could understand what the others meant. "This should be quite simple, we simply see what glyphs repeat, as they do in the Sith code. Therefore, the first line of the code is 'Peace is a lie, there is only passion'". The Arue'tii placed his finger on the final glyph, assuming that it corresponded to the word for passion. "The next line of the code is 'Through passion, I gain strength.' Therefore, the glyph that matches from the first and second lines means passion". With one finger still held on the previous glyph, he scanned the remaining line until coming to a satisfactory duplicate, he placed his finger on this one as well.

"It should be little problem deciphering the sword, the true difficulty then will come from whether or not the blade matches the dialect of the gate. You say that we might narrow it down based on the presence of corpses. Shall we not allow a recess from this room for the sake of discovering the origins of it's builders, at least for a brief moment?"

 

[The Talatheen Amalgam]

[member="Abelain Narv'uk"]

"A wise course of action; I am unfamiliar with ancient Sith architecture - I would not know where they would house the dead. The Kittât variant was popular to caligraphy and Sith rites; as I said, they were often imparted upon burial shrouds - some of which devoted spells per se. 'Wraps of Frost' for example; it would draw upon the inert dark energy for power over the course of decades. Hence, I doubt we should look to the lesser; our best bet would be to find the corpse of a high ranking Sith Lord - or find an ancient Dwomutsiqsa symbol... or perhaps one of its ilk." Talatheen waited not to judge if Abelain would follow; he simply departed to the North, where the wind blew - he had yet to explore this segment of the tomb; it lay deeper into the red hills from which it was buried and far from his objective. Of all the tombs, such as that of Ajunta Pall or Naga Sadow, Tulak's Hord was perhaps the most strange; it coursed with almost a life of its own - the subtle noises of flowing wind, the presence of dying plants - all contributed to a central texture that was, in itself, the soul of the Tomb. Through the membrane of this mystery, one might find themselves easily lost among this collective grave - multiple hallways spanned to open courtyards or hidden pits, littered with unholy Sith artifacts or abominations. Visible, as he stepped forward, were the bones of countless beasts and travelers before - brown and gray with diseased rot.

The Amalgam had not made it far from the vault room when light, brazen and bright, flowed down from the ceiling before him; it was a simple few meters away from whence he had come but, already, he found himself in awe. From what he had gathered, they should be heading deeper into the rocky sea of Korriban's wasteland; yet here, the ceiling breached the sunny sky. He stopped, his hand raised up behind him - bidding Abelain to also stop, should he have bothered to follow. He had experienced this before - his disorientation; something, to him, felt wrong and he recognized this screaming confusion: it was self-inflicted. It was an unconscious ward to step beyond the tomb; he experienced... fear, but the source was indiscernible - then it passed, just like that. Instantaneous. It was a moment that blossomed only further strife and, as he turned, he came to realize he had not come far from the initial podium; he had traveled, at most, perhaps two or three steps, into the northern doorway. This time, where he believed himself to be transgressing, further encroaching into the tomb, he had simply stood, still and stalwart, before the arch.

He took a step back, dazed and bewildered, then motioned towards Abelain, wherever he may be; "Descendent of Sarith, I ask you to please lead the way." It was not cowardice that bade him to this decision, no; it was confusion. It was as if something, deep within him, had mentally contorted, as if flexing back from a sudden scare; he needed time to analyze, to deduce its meaning, and, should something lurk within the dark, it would be preferable to analyze their roles in combat. Where he held a rifle and the Force, his ally- No, not yet, he interrupted himself. Abelain was skilled, or so he presumed, with the blade - the heirloom, engraved with Kittât; there had to be something more to this. Until then, he had to rally himself to his position - as a ranged attacker, while the strange, blue-shelled humanoid would lead the charge into whatever shook him to his core - he also hoped, spared from the necessity of navigation, he would have time to help guide and alert him to clues. He had no intention of deceiving him, however: "Something is pulling be back from leaving - I'll cover you from the rear with Red Ice-" he released his rifle from its leather casket, symbolizing that as the item who bore the contrived name; "-and direct our exploration, perhaps assessing what nature of this... emotion drives me to hesitate. If you follow me, cloaked in the shadow of my self-doubt, it could get us both killed."

 

[Abelain Narv'uk]

[member="The Talatheen Amalgam"]

Abelain nodded his agreement to the idea on the hope of finding the corpse of a dead Sith Lord, and set out behind Talatheen. The journey did not take a very long time, and it seemed as though Talatheen stopped only a few steps towards the Northern passageway. Abelain listened intently for the noise that had triggered the hold in progress, expecting to hear the vile sounds of scavengers or looters. Instead, the gentle sound of water greeted him, slowly and rhythmically falling to the ground a drop at a time. Had something disorientated the mind of his companion? Was it possible that he possessed senses even beyond his own?

Another gentle breeze of wind made him shudder. It was becoming far too cold, he needed warmth desperately. Already he could feel the heat seeping away from his body with each assault of the chilled air. He took a step beside the amalgam, and imagined the possibilities of escape if he were not to find a heat source. They were minimal, practically non-existent. Taking a single step into the Northern doorway, he discerned the visible bones of an ancient creature, potentially even a person, though the mutilation required to create the twisted form it undertook made it unlikely. The being was curled up, it's ribs shattered and it's jaw crooked, aimed seemingly diagonally. Within it's stomach lay a brown and dry fern. It was evident that the plant had grown within the bloody innards of whatever the creature had been, and once it had festered, the plant had died.

Not a hint of the creature's fate was presented in scent, the plant; like a leech, had suckled away all of the thing's blood before it had eventually met a similar fate. The call was unexpected, and Abelain spun about from his observation to take heed of whatever curiosity the Talatheen brethren were noting. However, it was not so, it was simply the request of the masked being that the Arue'tii lead the way into their trek. That was understandable, whereas Abelain excelled in the close-quarters combat that such a tomb may present, the presence of a blaster on the person of the Talatheen brethren spoke to their ranged ability. It was a logical conclusion as well that the heavily armored Arue'tii take the lead, as he was far more likely to survive an encounter with vicious creatures than any inferior species.

With a confident nod, Abelain returned to the Northern direction. When Talatheen next spoke however, it bright an icy chill to the depths of the Arue'tii that even the wind could not pierce. Something of unknown ability or nature was pulling at the mind of the amalgam, forcing him to remain in the chamber. With a sudden realization, Abelain took notice that his heart rate had elevated, and was now pounding steadily in his torso, neatly matching the rhythm of the liquid drops. His hide was powerful, there was no doubt in it's ability to repel damage, but something that infiltrated the mind could not be stopped by mere armament and armor, such a thing viewed those physical barriers as petty and swept them aside as though dust.

Deprived of his chitinous exoskeleton, what was the Arue'tii except a writhing mass of flesh and muscle, neatly sewn together by the needle's of nature. Even deprived of the chill of the wind, Abelain shuddered, his hand instinctively curling tighter around the Sith blade still held in his palm. "If it is your wish for me to lead, then I shall. I do not feel the same mental tugging that you feel, however it may be that some ill-tempered monstrosity is attempting to separate us for the purpose of feasting one at a time. It may be wise to keep our wits about us".

With a final glance at the bone mass near him, he set off down the hallway, slowly and cautiously.
"Not everything in a tomb is dead."

 

[The Talatheen Amalgam]

[member="Abelain Narv'uk"]

To this, the Amalgam agreed with a curious nod; his voice sounding out in unnatural pitch, adding to the chilling quality of the massive grave: "I'm- I am going to attempt to mentally push my way through the interference; perhaps it may simply be an internal, instinctive drive but... provided it's- it is external, I might alert it. Keep together - I doubt these bones bore the smiting of long dead mechanical sentinels- ah, perhaps for the sake of simplification: I don't think droids did this. Keep an eye out for clues... or warnings; the more we can predict of what's- what is to come, the better for both our longevity and current health." He planted the rifle's stock against the nook of his shoulder tightly, as if attempting to drive the blunt instrument through the joint; the worry pouring forth through the physical movements of the body. The gun was raised - it held a particular home-made stock quality to it, its frame seemingly hammered from scrap; however, there would be no denying the deadliness of it - found not in its power, but through its flexibility.

"Close quarters up ahead; how resistant is that shell of yours to blaster bolts?" he asked, as his hand rose and revealed a shocking feature: he snapped a bolt along the length of the rifle's barrel, then turned the cylinder - allowing the metal neck to fall away within his grip, leaving the gun with a snub nose protruding from its body. He exalted the setting upon its base, near the mounting rail towards its peak; flipping through a variety of switches - setting it to full power and burst fire automatic. He recognized the equal worry in his friend's- no, his compatriot's intent; it bled from him through such sixth sense, like water from an upturned cup - not that it was this intense, but it was palpable as such to the Amalgam - and it eased his own worry. Fear was a key to power, much like the rod who served as a key to the vault; and he, certainly hungered for such power - much like the vault. Such thoughts nicked sparks of realization, but they soon faded; his face, beneath the veil of metal, scrunching in confusion: "Huh," he murmured; "Let's hurry up and find a corpse."

"The tomb weaves throughout a variety of courtyards, minor tombs, vaults lined with text - sometimes valuable - vaults, graves; navigate with care, so I can bring us back."

 

[Abelain Narv'uk]

[member="The Talatheen Amalgam"]

Abelain continued his remarkably slow trek down the hallway, carefully moving over a pile of rubble and kicking what appeared to have once been a femur out of his path. It bounced into the wall, giving a surprisingly loud cracking noise and making the action one that the Arue'tii immediately regretted. He kept his eyes focused ahead, activating the vibroblade in his hand so that it began to shake, emitting a very light humming noise that amplified in the stillness of the hallway. The voice of Talatheen reached him, inquiring about his ability to resist blaster bolts. It was a question that warranted little explanation beyond, "I am highly resistant to heat".

He steeled himself for what lied ahead, his other hand carefully pressed against the hard stone of the walls and assisting in keeping his balance. The rock was rough, much like the nature of the place, and it seemed frightfully uncomfortable. It was at this moment, that the tickling in his olfactory senses began. He locked in on it, closing himself to the world so that he could solely focus on this one sensation. There, the irony tang of blood reached him. His steps stopped suddenly, and then his foot arched backwards, beginning his gradual and slow retreat. He had scented something large, large enough that he had initially thought that it was a crowd of beings. The blood scent was too uniform for it to be different individual creatures however, it was too exact.

He couldn't retreat, to do so would simply allow the monstrous animal to find them sooner. No, a strategy began to formulate in his mind. "There is a remarkably large creature somewhere within the tomb. I am unsure if we will be able to defeat it, I recommend that you prepare for combat. It is wishful thinking to assume that the creature does not already know we are here, especially with your current mental effect." The other hand of the Arue'tii dropped to the lightsaber of a long-dead Iridonian, one that he had slain to prove his position as apprentice. Now it seemed that it would serve him once more. Removing it with a gentle clicking noise from his side, he ran a hard chitinous finger over the ignition, and decided against it until combat had immediately begun.

 

[The Talatheen Amalgam]

[member="Abelain Narv'uk"]

The Amalgam pursued the arue'tii with cautious footfalls, and admittedly jumped upon the sudden, aggressive strike against the femur; a fragmented bone sent flying against a wall, splintering and falling to the floor. With Red Ice's barrel removed, it had effectively transformed the rifle into an awkward, handheld blaster - a bit heavier than he would have liked, but it would serve its purpose regardless: freeing up his right hand. He struck out through the cords of phantasmal reality - fingers contorting to puppeteer the cords of unseen Force; the femur, before it clattered to the cobbled earthen floor, halted in mid-air. He smirked softly to himself, not from a self-actualized demonstration, but through a cold, throbbing horror of what might have come should they make too much noise; however, the chitin-clad Abelain calmed this fear with his response. Resistant to heat, this new quality added further layers of mystery to the strange being, one of a seemingly unique breed that Talatheen had encountered, so unknowingly, deep within this forgotten and accursed place; he made a mental note to inquire further pending their success on the mission.

He followed suit as he adventured further into the corridor; feeling the roughly hewn walls - or perhaps its age degraded it to such a state, though that would be an odd occurrence, though Talatheen, considering the pristine state of the door. He stepped on a skull, his sole nearly breaking through the crown before he stopped himself; his nose wrinkling in a rather pungent disgust. How ironic, that such decayed matter, intrusive upon the steps of a tomb, would remain unburied. Abelain stopped suddenly; a change in decorum that stopped the Amalgam's attention span short and fixated upon the alien. Then he took a step back - a movement Talatheen really did not like, and he was swift to follow suit; his rifle rose, overarching the man's shoulder. Abelain had stated he was immune to heat, to some degree - a fact he was most thankful for; in the narrowness of the tomb, accuracy did him little good in comparison to a flurry of sprayed fire, and hence he had removed Red Ice's barrel. If he struck him on accident, he would have no need to fear for the most part; his partner was hesitating in the initial retreat, a far more unknown maneuver that commanded a greater span of attention from Talatheen.

Then he gave exposition upon his worry; something that did little to alleviate the Amalgam's worry - a beast, massive at that, somewhere in the tomb. "Remarkably large?" cooed Talatheen facetiously; "Could it be what's interfering upon my mind- Ah, but I don't- do not know of something capable of this. Much less something that big which could lurk within the tomb, short of a mutated offspring - in that case, best avoid it; I don't- do not know what it could be capable of." His gaze stretched back towards the room, then to the bones upon the floor; his eyes narrowed in despicable revelation: "Keep moving, it might be close. If it wanted me to stay in the room, the best thing we can do right now is get as far away from it as possible. Keep close, cover the front - I'll bring up the rear." He saw Abelain draw forth the hilt of a lightsaber, one he had flaunted earlier in a declaration of misfit peace; he seemed to ponder over it - though, thankfully in the Amalgam's mind, he seemed to force his thoughts away. "The second best thing we can do is not provoke it."

 

[Abelain Narv'uk]

[member="The Talatheen Amalgam"]

"That is truthful. I can scent the being, however with the tomb being the maze it is, I cannot guarantee that we will not be going towards or away from it until the last moment." If they had been in a larger and more open room, it would have been easy work leading them away from the monstrosity that seemingly stalked the hallways, however, the Arue'tii realized that in a place as convoluted in it's interior design, it was very much possible that what they thought was going away would be going towards the beast. Still, his fears were calmed by the demonstration of Force usage by the Amalgam, it re-assured him that he would not be facing the monster alone, but with a skilled practitioner of mental abilities. Still, the masked man was right that they needed to keep away from the room if that was what the monster wished.

The lightsaber remained in his hand as he continued to walk, coming to a dome shaped chamber which acted as an intersection that seemed to lead into two passageways that in turn lead into a further two passages each. In total, it amounted to four different areas. The dome shaped chamber sported several minor holes in it's ceiling, allowing the glare of the sun to gain entry and create marks of light upon the floor. Still, even with the light, the room was remarkably dark. Upon examination of scent, it seemed as though the monstrous creature was in one of the two left passages, though once again it would be difficult to tell.

If one were to look into the left passageway, they would see the two passages. The leftmost passage seemed to be covered in dust, an obscure and runic text partially obscured by the gore. It was a remarkably quiet room, almost as if the sound had somehow been torn away from it, though such a thought was ridiculous. Opposite it, but remaining in the same main passageway was a different room. This room held the same dropping of water that the previous chambers held, however it seemed intensifies, as if though the water were flowing more in this room.

Looking into the right passageway, he began to wonder if they would be able to explore the correct areas before they were inevitably savaged by the stalking hunter. "I believe that the creature resides in one of the two left passages. I am unsure as to whether we should move towards it, though there seem to be logical reasons to take that action. First, if it is a carnivorous animal as is most likely the case, it has likely survived mostly on consuming the dead, this means that it will likely be stationed in an area containing numerous tombs. Second, due to the slightly more aggravated noise of water from this room" he motioned to the room which created the water drops, "It seems likely that this is where such an animal would find it's drink, it's watering ground if you would.

The Arue'tii motioned to the right passageway. He had not examined the quality of it's rooms as of yet, though it could very well have led to the very things they were seeking. "Alternatively, if we trust my ability of scent, it may be best to avoid the creature as best we can, and hope that there are alternate tombs scattered throughout the right passageway."

 

[The Talatheen Amalgam]

[member="Abelain Narv'uk"]

"If the creature can be found laundering midst the tombs of the dead, perhaps that would be where we would find our intact mummy - however, that might not work well, provided on the length of the monster's stay within the tomb of Tulak Hord; we best not underestimate the beast's longevity along with its prowess, numerous tunnels could be weakened or damaged due to its nesting," tutored the Amalgam, stepping into the auditorium-esque hall; "Ultimately, if we assume the beast feasts on the dead, due to the lack of prey, it would be our best lead." The light poured forth from the ceiling, bathing the ancient hall in swathes of creeping illumination. Where Abelain observed, twin halls unbecoming of the will to traverse: one carpeted in blood and flesh, putrid and rotten, flyblown (if flies were to exist on Korriban) mounds of carrion; the other thundering with the presence of water. Indeed, the leftmost was far more blatant with the presence of the abomination, whilst the other, even in its innocent design, was equally as likely to house the aberration. "I am unfamiliar of the Sith's habits of burial - however, this is the tomb of Tulak Hord; though the presence of the beast may indicate bodies, they may not be strictly cadavers of Sith Lords - rather, explorers or ancients; likely slaves at that."

His attention was soon directed to the other halls, both unequal in malevolent presence; where one was a dark pit into the abyss, a gate to Tarturus it would seem, the other was carpeted in rubble - columns, having fallen over the path, leaving room for the ceiling to collapse, granting entry to what appeared to be a dry aquaduct that weaved beyond the visible stone walls; it was just wide enough for a body to squirm through. "Well, unless you're- you are willing to crawl about on your belly and worm about until you get stuck, and ultimately die being eaten alive by a nest of k'lor'slugs... ah, sorry; I tend to be far too melodramatic. Essentially, I doubt that tombs exist in that direction - I doubt anyone would be buried within an aquaduct, much less a Sith Lord... perhaps a murder victim- Sorry, being dramatic again. As for the other hall... I can't tell if the beast has been in that direction, so I can't be certain if a tomb lays in wait for us." He rose his blaster, motioning with grim hesitation towards the two, far more ominous options on the left; "If I had to pick, I'd- I would pick the one perhaps flooded; maybe, if we are lucky, the entire section is drowned. Maybe, over the course of a few thousand years, we might find some preserved wrappings at the least. It'll- it will be a long shot, though."