Populate The Fire Still Burns | SO Populate of Empty Hex

[Darth Strosius]

Objective: 2 Restart the Forge / Riddle of Steel
Tags: Ukvax the Gilded / Kaila Irons / Tamsin Graves / The King in Red / Quinn Varanin
---‐-----------------------------

Wrenching the doors closed was far more exhausting than He had anticipated, evidently this facility was far sturdier than it looked initially. Whatever had managed to take it offline must have been rather significant given that just entering and exiting the place was a difficult affair when using brute force. The raging storm alone couldn't be totally responsible, that much was certain.

Darth Strosius gave ample time for all those beyond the doors to slip inside, not necessarily by choice, but when the doors finally slammed closed it was quite clear that they wouldn't open again. They sealed into place surprisingly well given how hard they had fought to be kept apart. A small relief as He briefly swayed on His feet and exhaled a deep sigh. With a roll of His shoulders He was standing back up straight rather quickly though, not one to be kept hunched down for long. Even if shutting those accursed doors had been quite the task.

"I've found that we were running out of time." He cast a glance at the bundled up woman that approached Him as He recomposed Himself, something about her seeming familiar but nothing came to mind in that regard. "There's backup power online at the very least," He nodded to the flickering lights that bathed them all in a red glow. "Which means that if nothing else we won't freeze to death in here like we would out there." The distant sounds of metallic groans and wails meant that something in this facility was still working.

If there was still power and working machinery in some sense then surely the restoration of some sort of temperature regulation could be done easily enough. Or so He hoped anyway. Getting the factory itself back online was the main goal of course but priorities such as making the dreadfully cold place at least bearable had to be taken care of first and foremost. It was difficult to perform metallurgy with a cold forge after all.

The sparking of a panel drew the masked man's attention, His gaze snapping to it before roaming over the signage that seemed to beckon them deeper into the wailing facility. "Maintenance access should lead us to the power station." He mused aloud, shaking the fatigue from His limbs as He nodded towards the passage way. "Getting the lights back on will make our task much simpler." Not to mention restoring the heating as well.

Darth Strosius moved towards the Maintenance Access corridor with heavy footsteps that seemed to drown out if not directly counter the distant sounds of barely functioning machinery and glitching communication system. The dark was of no issue for one such as He but He kept His lightsaber ignited so that the rest of the engineers and Sith could see where He went. Undoubtedly they'd need a good few glowrods to light their way but with Him in the lead that shouldn't be too much of an issue.

 

[Jacen Breska 'TK-710']

FIND OUT WHAT HAPPENED​

EQUIPMENT: DC-17m | Jacen’s Second Legion Armor
LOCATION: ::Malgus - Arturius-023:: Chamber Theta-3
TAG: CT-312 Trayze Tesar The Final Omen Commodore Helix Lirka Ka @OPEN

The Turbolift down was quiet. Dreadfully quiet, save the moans and groans of the mechanics. No one inside the lift was speaking too much.
At least, not that Jacen noticed.

Perhaps he was too busy thinking, or trying not to think, about what went on in this facility. Perhaps, as he shifted from foot to foot anxiously, he simply wanted to try to ignore all outside distractions, try to keep from having a full blown breakdown.

And then the time dragged on.
And on.
And on.
And on.
And it felt like they were no where close to the bottom.
“Oh where the hell are we going, Hell?” Jacen heard himself say out loud as he stared at the floor indicator on the panel ahead of him. Then, suddenly, it stopped. No warning, no slowing. A single noise and the absence of motion. Not slowing down. No deceleration. Movement simply…stopped. Jacen looked around, exchanging looks with the others in the elevator, and readied his weapon as the doors slid open. Jacen took it upon himself to be the first out of the elevator. On some subconscious level he enjoyed it. The person in the front always encountered the enemy first. No more stress about combat, just combat. And that’s where Jacen thrived.
When the first wave of heat hit Jacen, immediately he sighed in relief. “Oohhhhhh yes. Finally something warm,” he said quietly, ‘shaking’ off the cold before continuing, taking his victories where they came. The deeper they went, the more Jacen started to pay attention to things he otherwise wouldn’t.
“Does this place…seem…alive to any of you?” Jacen asked, looking at the walls. It felt as if this place was…beating? As if he were inside a heart. The walls almost pulsed with activity. And as they continued further in, the unease that was growing inside Jacen’s heart itself continued to grow and fester as they entered the central chamber.

Jacen immediately noticed the back wall.

And Longed for the Cold.

He stared, dumbstruck, unable to look away. The horror of the amalgamation was too…disturbing to look away. Too horrifying to ignore. Like the antithesis of every happy memory. The complete absence of good.
“What the hell is this place.” He eventually asked, rhetorically, then put his hand to his ear, keying his comm.

“710 to 3407. Luc, come in, we need you down here.”
“KRRRKKRKZKZZZZKKKT.”
“Luc?”
“KRRRRRRKKBBBBBZZZZZZZZZT.”
“710 to Command?” He tried, foolishly optimistically.
“KKRKRKRKRKRKKKKXXXZZZZZZ.”
“No, yeah, cause why would it?” Jacen said quietly to himself before he sighed in defeat, raising his head and closing his eyes. He lamented the life he almost, should have, had. Some nice Sith Officer, sitting somewhere in the sun with an office and a subordinate to boss around. Now he was here. In the core of a frozen world inside a horror factory and cut off from the rest of the galaxy. He returned his gaze to the wall in the back of the room, fighting every impulse in his body when he heard it.
The click, signaling the activation of the security droids, sent a chill down Jacen’s spine. Almost immediately, he raised his weapon and backed away, trying to get towards his comrades as the droids fell to the ground.
Six droids. Oozing some substance, covered in material Jacen didn’t recognize. Six droids filled with the droid equivalent for hate.

Jacen’d laugh at the absurdity of it all if he wasn’t already screaming, returning fire as the droids attacked. Jacen scrambled back to nearby cover, diving behind it. Fear demanded he stay put, the shaking in his hands told him he wasn’t going to do this. Looking at his hands as they shook, Jacen swore silently to himself. He squeezed his hands shut and bashed them against the ground, sending shockwaves of pain through them and ceasing their shaking as he focused instead on the pain. He repeated the unofficial mantra of their unit as he raised his head and began returning fire again.
I’m dead already.

​

 

[CT-312]

(All art on this bio/thread is made by me. The rights belong to myself. Please do not use the art without permission. Thank you.)
//: Jacen Breska 'TK-710' Trayze Tesar Commodore Helix Lirka Ka The Final Omen , OPEN //:
//: Malgus, Arturius-023 //:
//: Attire //:
//: Weapons: DLT-19, EC-17 blaster, Vibroblade Knife //:
//: OBJECTIVE 1 : Find out what happened. //:

"Nothing your blaster will be any use against, I suspect." Helix answered the soldier's query in his less-than-reassuring fashion, his voice coming as a crackling snarl across the open channel. "Unless it has more of a liking for flesh and blood manifestations than the last. Courage and discipline will be far more useful here. Still, it never hurts to shoot something just to be safe." Melding the additional limbs back into his seemingly-liquid form, he brushed one hand against the wall again, hefting his own blaster for emphasis. "Ignore any audio or visual hallucinations you may be experiencing. They are, I am afraid, par for the course in such sites, if the previous is anything to go by."

"I believe the dear Commodore has described what to expect rather aptly. If you do lose your senses Warrior, do be so kind as to shoot the Captain first in your madness."

Quietly chuckling, CT-312 liked this Commodore. With a grin at the response, agreeing with this three armed killer droid style of ‘shoot to be safe’ mentality. Administrator Lirka too had a sense of humor. Granted, CT-312 felt as if part of their jest was actually true. It seems that the Commodore and Administrator were well acquainted with each other.

As they entered the lift, descending further into the facility they all waited silently. It felt longer than usual. The mechanical hum was off from the motion of the lift. ‘Hallucination?’ , brushing it off.

A sharp hiss was heard, CT-312 immediately pressed herself closely to the walls of the lift for cover. Her Trooper squad mimicked her actions. As the doors opened, CT-312 watched TK-710 rush out eagerly. The other random Trooper that he brought, followed his lead. A bit too reckless for her own liking. He was lucky that there weren’t any unwanted surprises on the other side.

Weapon up, CT-312 gestured to the other Troopers to cautiously exit the lift. The moment they left the lift their visors all fogged briefly due to the sudden rapid change of temperature. From freezing cold to hot and humid, it was unexpected. The power was off. So what was powering the heat? As they fanned out, CT-312 was able to get a better inspection of the room they were in. It was a vast chamber of some sort. The walls were covered in black soot and god knows what else.

A faded spray paint faintly reading “Chamber Theta-3” marked one of the walls. Faintly a red flash caught CT-312’s attention. Looking in the opposite direction where it went, the Scout Trooper angled her gun upwards to the ceiling. The vast dome above was pulsating the faintly red lights downwards into the chamber. It gave off the illusion that the whole room was breathing. Like it was alive.

“Does this place…seem…alive to any of you?”

Recalling Commodore Helix’s words, CT-312 relayed to her team out loud, “Remember, Ignore any visual and auditory hallucinations. Keep focus and don’t get distracted”

Looking back in front, slowly advancing, CT-312 signaled with her support hand to the Troopers to proceed. Scanning their new surroundings. It was unfamiliar from the floor plans they were given. Pulling up the mission data briefing, nothing. This was never mentioned. It didn’t exist. Or the Black Kahn didn’t know of. This was something to report immediately. Activating the comms, only static could be heard. ‘Chit.’ , they needed to find a way to get a hold of the Black Kahn to relay their findings, but how.

“Commodore, Would you happen to know of a way to boost our signal or fix the interference for the comms?”

As they entered further into the chamber, it was something that none of the Troopers were expecting to find. The footprints that looked similar to the ones outside earlier on were leading towards an altar of some kind. ‘This definitely needs to be reported.’

“Commodore, Administrator. Have either of you seen or dealt with this kind of… thing. Before?”

The Troopers were whispering amongst themselves,

“What the heck is this room even?”
“I have a bad feeling about this place”
“Can we just torch everything up in here?”
“I’m all for that”
"..."

Without warning, something sharply pressed into her mind causing CT-312 to shut their eyes tightly. Bringing her head down for a brief moment. When it went away, she raised her head. Noticing the rocks on the walls glowing red and turning to violet. Looking back to the altar, there were faces. Gods know how many faces with different expressions. Some of the faces were mouthing, trying to say something. ‘The footprints.’ The Scout Trooper deduced where the owners of the footprints had gone. This isn’t good. Sharply issuing an order to the Troopers to cut chatter. This was no time for curiosity and fear to take root. They needed to be able to take action first, ask questions and feel later.

“EYES UP”

A sound was heard. Multiple sounds were heard. Sharp clicks were echoing in the chamber. CT-312 was scanning around with her weapon. Looking for the source of the noises. She brought her weapon up to the ceiling again. This time met with multiple red glowing eyes. Whatever was up on the ceiling was moving around. Immediately shouting “CONTACT”, the Scout Trooper began firing above. Red bolt blasters, barely missing as the glowing eyes above scattered quickly.

Six oozing mechanical figures dropped from the ceiling. As they landed, the sound of heavy metal on the floor reverberated from the chamber’s acoustics. They were surrounded.

“MOVE” , CT-312 yelled as her squad split into two smaller groups. The Troopers were holding down the triggers of their weapons, firing at the droids around. Red bolt blasters deflecting off of the armor plating of the droids. The Troopers ran off to whatever cover they could find.

"HOSTILE PRESENCE DETECTED."
"SECURITY OVERRIDE CODE: ALCH-NULL-7."
"FORGING SITE COMPROMISED."
"PURGE PROTOCOL INITIATED."

Shots were exchanged back from these chamber security droids. CT-312 didn’t know where TK-710 ran off to, nor the other Trooper he brought. They both weren’t on the floor dead, so that meant they’re alive somewhere. “The armor plating is too thick. Focus fire on a direct spot or aim for its joints! Use grenades if you have to!”

Tapping on MB-1782’s shoulder, signaling ready. Placing his shield out in front, the hulking Trooper blocked the incoming shots in their direction. CT-312 focused on the closest droid in front. Immediately aiming at the legs. After unloading two full rounds of bolt blasters from her DLT-19, the leg broke off. Causing the droid to fall over, crawling towards their direction buzz saw wildly swinging. As it slowly made its way, CT-312 aimed at its arms. Shooting off or damaging the limbs. MB-1782 did a powerful swing with his stun baton, temporarily causing the arm of the buzz saw to freeze in place. Then using his shield, knocking the buzz saw upwards, CT-312 aimed her weapon point blank at the droid's head. Unloading a full clip into the head. “Just die already.” The whirring of the saw stopped as the oozing droid’s collapsed lifelessly on the ground.

“Maintain distance from the droids! It’ll get nasty if you get too close”, CT-312 warned the Troopers.

The other three troopers looked at their droid behind cover. As RK-1001 shot above his head towards it. “We need to attack at the same time”. TK-3232 and CC-1441 both nodded. “Now!”. The Flame Trooper, TK-3232 stood out in front. Flames roared to life. Engulfing the metal monstrosities. Blocking and damaging the droid’s vision sensors. RK-1001 held down the trigger of the assault rifle, giving support fire for TK-3232. CC-1441, Cowboy Trooper, launched up from behind their cover, in the air. Firing a rocket at the droid. Hitting it square on.

BOOM

As the smoke cleared, metal debris littered the floor. The droid screeched and groaned as it clawed its way to them. Dripping with thick black ichor that slowly ate away at the metallic flooring. Flames once again engulfed the relentless droid as the Assault Trooper and Cowboy Trooper kept firing rounds of red bolt blasters. Eventually when the flames died down. They watched the droid. If it made any sudden movements, flames would light up the metal being and was met with another round of red bolt blasters. Soon a lifeless charred metal frame of a husk was all that remained.

The three regrouped with the Shield Trooper and CT-312. Looking to see how Commodore and Administrator. The Camo Trooper signaled the squad, looking for TK-710 and the random Trooper. Heading their way to provide support.

​

 

[Commodore Helix]

Objective: Find out what happened
Equipment: Unchanged
Tags: CT-312 / Lirka Ka / The Final Omen / Trayze Tesar​

Helix shook his head at the soldier's queries. "I can't say that I do. This is untrodden territory. I only know that it is very similar to the first site, and thus a few things can be deduced here and there. Everything else, your guess is as good as mine."

The droid looked up as the soldiers started to fire. Security droids came hurtling down from the ceiling, very clearly set for lethal force.

Helix's reaction was near-instant. In a blur of movement, the nanocolony dispersed, then reformed next to one of the armored droids. He reached forward, and casually tore the thing's head from its shoulders with no apparent physical strain. A horrible, metallic rending noise filled the air as the machine's reinforced neck buckled and tore like cloth. His sensors analyzed it swiftly. Well-armored. Well-armed. Ancient. Perhaps, by the Sith's standards, formidable. It had never met anything like him.

A blaster cannon bolt struck him between the shoulderblades, then another, leaving great glowing craters in his form. Evidently unphased, the colony dispersed again, causing further shots to pass harmlessly through it. The cloud of nanites surged over the second droid, and a new, iridescent light filled its photoreceptors. It turned its weapons now upon its fellows, having become but a hollow vessel for Helix's will.

As simple as these crude contraptions were, there was always a certain satisfaction in destruction. The newly-mindwiped machine wasn't overly effective at harming the others, armored as it was in energy-resistant metals, but it would likely serve as an adequate distraction while they dealt with the rest. Helix did his best to have it provide the others with cover fire. The more attention it drew, the better.

 

[Lirka Ka]

OBJECTIVE I
TAGS: Commodore Helix Jacen Breska 'TK-710' CT-312 The Final Omen Trayze Tesar

Lirka Ka got her demon. And what a beautiful thing it was. The Once Sephi's lenses gazed upon the foul mass of metallic faces fused to the wall, some may have trembled in fear at the sight. Recoiled in sheer disgust at the unholy actions the Order had performed here upon Malgus - not Lirka. All she could do was grin to herself, grateful for the helmet that hid her face once more.

The foulness here was almost holy. Nay, it was holy. Even that may have not been the architect's intent. It drew Lirka in, leaving her to ignore her fellows for a time and ponder the wonders of the Primordial Dark's effects on their reality. Such revulsion of the natural order, pure desecration of the way things were meant to be. And for what? Metal? Some new alloy to fuel the endless wars upon which suffering was perpetuated?

The cruel simplicity of the prospect amused Lirka to no end - this is why she stayed in the orbit of the Sith. As long as this order got what they wanted, as long as the Emperor and his minions were emboldened to keep doing this. The Dark would be pleased, and the bloody bounty of the Strong would be reaped. Yet, Lirka's ruminating was quickly interrupted by the arrival of the security droids.

Curious things they were, unlike any she had seen before. Violence exploded around her person in an instant, the first bolt slammed into Lirka's chestplate and dissipated upon the metal. Though she did not act, not yet. Instead Lirka did what she did best, she watched, and she noted. Jacen Breska 'TK-710' who ran for cover immediately, CT-312 the leader who did much the same - a commander of men, whose fellows already sent some of their attackers to their mechanical afterlife. And of course, there was the dear Commodore Helix . She had already known to expect great things from the mechanoid, and she was not disappointed by the fluidity of destruction that followed in his wake.

Still, did she shutter some. She could only imagine what might have happened had his nanite form embedded itself within her second skin. An unfortunate footnote to make, and needle stabbing at the throbbing paranoia that was paramount in the back of Lirka's thoughts. Though after her moments standing there as a giant metal target for the droids to hammer with blaster fire, the Once-Sephi burst to murderous life.

From somewhere on her person, an electro-whip snapped into her hand. The thing igniting to life with a crackle as it lashed out as a stream of yellow light in the murky blackness of the battlefield, coiling around on the remaining droids as Lirka gave a sharp yank and tugged the thing towards her. Her blade roared to life, a swing that rung against the droid's Phirk plating - yet that was not the point. Swinging again, higher now, she went for the things neck. Not intent to simply decapitate, nay with the combination of her whip and the electro-plasma filament that roared upon her machete Lirka would give this machine a miserable, electrified, death. Bearing down upon it with all of her own mechanical might, she let her sadism soar as the thing thrashed against its attacker while systems overheated and fried.

"Tch...droids."

Though, quickly did she look to the Commodore and his new form. Adding a quick addendum.

"No offense, of course."

 

[Kaila Irons]

OBJECTIVE II​

Location: Moving deeper
Wearing: Armor + Thermal cape + Mask
Tag: The King in Red Darth Strosius Quinn Varanin Tamsin Graves

Choked vents and dying lights, not a guard in sight, something was wrong.

Anathemous took cautious steps as she scanned the room, only to snap towards a burst panel which suddenly spat.

"Maintenance access should lead us to the power station." He mused aloud, shaking the fatigue from His limbs as He nodded towards the passage way. "Getting the lights back on will make our task much simpler."

The young Darth nodded, allowing the others to proceed while she stayed behind, listening carefully. It was difficult to know what had broken the silence upon entry, droids, forges, people perhaps? But with power offline for the moment options were dwindling and one had to wonder if that were any better.

That clanging especially felt as if an ill omen.

"You go on ahead," she spoke over her shoulder to the others.

"I'll run reconnaissance in the meantime. If we run into anything I'll call or send a droid."

And with that she proceeded deeper, taking a quartet of commando droids with her who began scanning the darkness through advanced optics. Anathemous pulled a shoto from her belt, igniting it's short crimson blade above her head like a torch, and layer of defense if attacked.

All the while she took wary glances at the patterned ceiling, trying to determine if it were cracked ice or something more peculiar. Gloved fingers drummed against her saber, itching to destroy whatever was making all that noise, or at least determine whether it was a threat. Even the droids, marching in front of her with sweeping precision, provided little comfort.

​

 

[The Final Omen]

CT-312 Jacen Breska 'TK-710' Lirka Ka Trayze Tesar Commodore Helix

The chamber howled.

Not with sound—with pressure. The moment the first droid hit the ground and its voice rattled that mechanized death-knell, something deeper than noise filled the room. A pulse. A weight. As if the chamber itself inhaled, and all who stood within were caught in its lungs.

The firefight exploded like a detonation in a tomb. Bolts scorched the air, red light flaring in violent staccato as beams slammed into the curved walls and tore gouges into the soot-blackened floor. And yet, every shot felt muted. Every impact a whisper, swallowed by the oppressive atmosphere of Chamber Theta-3.

The droids moved like butcher's puppets—stiff where they shouldn't be, fluid where they shouldn't move. Their multi-jointed limbs bent backward, sideways, and forward again as they stalked through the lines of cover, advancing with relentless tempo. They fired without rhythm, without coordination—because they didn't need it. Each shot was not a choice. It was a directive.

Jacen Breska was the first to return fire, fingers stiff and shaking from cold and adrenaline. The moment his rifle discharged, the illusion of paralysis broke. He dove for cover, the smell of scorched metal filling his helmet filters as a bolt narrowly missed his thigh. Scrambling behind the shattered remains of what might have once been a sacrificial control altar, he slammed his hands against the ground, redirecting the fear through pain, through fury, through focus. Just like they taught him. Just like they promised him. He muttered the mantra that had seen him through more battles than any officer's speech ever had—I'm dead already—and rose with new resolve to fight something he didn't understand and never wanted to.

CT-312's squad executed with cold efficiency. In the chaos, the Scout Trooper's voice cut through the roar like a vibroblade: "Eyes up!" Her team moved with her precision, splitting, flanking, pivoting around cover as she directed fire at the joints and sensor clusters of the advancing machines. Her weapon roared with disciplined fury as her rounds found purchase—first a leg, then an arm, then the writhing mess of servos that passed for a droid's throat. The thing spasmed, teeth of its saw whining, dragging itself forward even as its lower half crumpled into slag. MB-1782 stepped into the blow with his shield raised, bracing with perfect timing, absorbing the final desperate lunge before CT-312 riddled its processor with fire until it twitched no more.

The chamber pulsed again.

Behind them, the ingot on the wall shivered.

From the faces carved into its surface, faint rivulets of black ichor began to weep. It crawled down the wall in long streaks like blood that had forgotten how to dry. A hum—barely audible—began to rise. A resonance that pressed at their helmets, like the scream of an old machine rebooting inside their skulls.

Helix responded with calculated savagery. One moment a shape, the next a cloud, the Commodore's nanite form tore through the droids with surgical brutality. A head separated from a torso with all the ceremony of a knife through parchment. One droid opened fire into his mass, scoring great molten wounds in the cloud—until Helix simply wasn't there, and the cloud became a tide that enveloped its attacker. The droid's optics turned a shimmering violet, its limbs hesitating. A moment later, it turned and began firing on its own kind—not precise, not clean, but enough to draw attention. Enough to unbalance.

Then came Lirka.

She was stillness, then thunder. A storm made flesh. While others dove and ducked and scrambled for tactics, she walked. Bolts impacted against her armor like thrown pebbles, sparking harmlessly against the blackened plates. Her whip ignited with a shriek, dancing through the air with crackling malevolence. It found the neck of a droid and pulled it forward—dragging it, twitching, into the swing of her plasma blade. It clashed. It burned. And then it cut. Sparks erupted from its spine, the scent of burnt circuitry filling the chamber as Lirka bore down with inhuman force, watching the thing collapse not as a warrior… but as a disappointment.

The droid's death was not final.

Its shattered core spasmed once more, and from deep within, a final surge of alchemical energy escaped—a ripple of red-violet light that washed over the chamber in a wave of anti-light. For an instant, every face in the ingot turned. Every eye in the wall looked down.

The final two droids, still active, froze.

Their optics dimmed. Their limbs seized. And then—together—they shrieked.

A mechanical scream, processed and raw, filled the chamber. Not a sound of pain. A signal.

The room darkened again—just for a moment.

Then silence.

Smoke hung heavy. The floor steamed. Metal hissed where it had been scorched. And all six droids now lay still.

Dead.

But the ingot was still moving.

A new sound emerged—low and rhythmic, like something heavy dragging itself across stone. It didn't come from above or ahead.

It came from beneath.

A thudding heartbeat began in the floor.
Not mechanical.
Organic.

The lights pulsed once with it. Then again. Then again.

Then, a new crack formed in the wall behind the dais. Thin. Small.

And growing.

As if something on the other side was pressing outward.

Trying to get in.

Or worse—trying to get out.

DO NOT LET IT ESCAPE.

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Obj 2 //:
//: The King in Red //: Kaila Irons //: Tamsin Graves //:
Direct: //: Darth Strosius //:
//: Hoth //:

Quinn quietly listened to the pair talk. Strosius knew more about the facility than the rest of them, which made her raise a slight brow at his words. He seemed used to giving orders and listening to them, which wasn't Quinn's forte. Still, she remained silent and let Kaila talk to the man - if this had been another time, maybe another life, she would have argued with him. Yet they shared a common thread that she wasn't too fond of at the moment.

She was still reeling from the embarrassment their shared ex had given her aboard the Mors Mon. Quinn's cheeks flared with a red frustration as her arms crossed, remembering the bitter memory. To think, she had risked everything to bring that ungrateful woman back from the dead. Looking at Alisteri only reminded her of Alina.

Turning away, she looked at Kaila, who was already starting to walk away from the man. Frowning, this meant she would be left to handle whatever he wanted to accomplish - which meant the Princess would have to associate with the once-dead vampire.

Quinn glanced at the man, "You, Sangnir, have an uncanny ability to return from the dead. " A hint of her annoyance bled through as Quinn figured her role was to stay with the former Inquisitor. Tamsin would easily follow Kaila, and leaving Alisteri alone wouldn't be wise.

"So then we're working together," She mumbled, following the Sangnir through the maintenance path. Quinn was quiet as she waited till she could no longer hear Kaila or Tamsin. Turning to Alisteri, she let her features soften slightly, trying not to be as annoyed as he probably already assumed her to be.

"The Kaggath," she started, "You were the stronger one; why did you let him win?" It was a question she had wondered the answer to. From her understanding of the Sangnir - particularly the type Alisteri and Alina were, they were nearly unstoppable forces of nature. How did Malum overtake someone like Alisteri? It never made sense to her; she knew it would never sit right with Alina.

Thinking of the woman made the Princess pause, remembering how she was around her. Quinn stepped to the side, giving more distance between her and Alisteri - out of respect. When it was explained to her, particularly being so pure in the Force, this life force - anima was almost drug-like. The last thing Quinn wanted was to deal with a hungry Alisteri.

At least Alina cared enough to stop.

 

[Tamsin Graves]

​

Theme: Ice Ice Baby
Equipment: Twin Omens | DE-10 | Combat Knife | Multi-Tool | Circlet of Projection | Stars Enchained
Tags: Kaila Irons | Quinn Varanin | Darth Strosius | The King in Red

Tamsin had been peeling away clothing as the others determined the plan of action, she had stripped herself down to her under jacket, paints, and gloves. Other than goggles she wore nothing on her head now. A relief washed over her as she finally felt comfortable, yet she could still see those around her shivering in all their gear. She looked at them oddly, why weren't they sweating even indoors.

She listened to them speak of the plan of action, choosing to split up. It was no surprise as Tamsin joined up with her sister and the contingent of droids leading the way. As they did, she looked up at the dying light and the last breaths of this place sputtering out. The factory had seen better days, that was sure. She could feel the clanking and buzzing hum of something beneath their feet, but she wasn't sure what it was.

Her head turned slightly as she heard the wind blow and bang against the blast door they had entered, startling her for a second. Then she found herself rushing to catch up with her sister. "Hey, wait up I don't have as long legs as you!"

She quipped as she came up to Kaila's side just as she pulled her saber to light up the now darkened path forward. She briefly looked back towards Quinn Varanin and the other guy Darth Strosius as they vanished from sight in the opposite direction. "I hope they don't run into too much trouble." She said not really overly concerned that guy had Quinn with him to protect him though the thought of her starting a storm in this place was scary as hell.

Tamsin looked briefly up at the dim light the saber was providing, and she smirked. As she did her dark eyes sparked into rings of fire and then her eyes became mini suns to light the path. Giving them more light to work with. "What are we hoping to find, you know besides our usual trouble? I heard Hoth has these things called Wampas, tribal snowmen, you think we might find one? I wonder if they have carrots for noses?" Tamsin had read so many books on this place and snow the history, and folklore was starting to bleed together.

 

[Darth Strosius]

Objective: 2 Restart the Forge / Riddle of Steel
Tags: Kaila Irons / Tamsin Graves / Quinn Varanin / The King in Red
---‐-----------------------------

Splitting up in a place such as this was far from ideal but Darth Strosius knew that it was an inevitable necessity given the sheer size of the facility. Locating the cause of its current derelict predicament would be faster with multiple teams scouring around, so long as they could stay in contact at least. Interference could become the death of them all in a crucial moment but such concerns did not outweigh practicality in this situation. They needed to be quick even if it wasn't the safest option to do so.

He cast a glance behind at the mention of His kind's knack for avoiding death, offering a small hum in agreement. "We are a durable sort. Returning from death is far from simple, but for Sangnir often times it is somewhat more lenient." While His own resurrection was not a direct cause of His nature, it was still something of a contributing factor in the grander scheme. He only knew of one other that had returned from the abyss and she too was a Sangnir so perhaps there was something to ponder on there even if He didn't know of an immediate connection.

The better question was, who was she to know of such matters?

For a time as the pair of them trudged down the unlit corridor He wracked His mind and kept stealing glances at her over His shoulder, trying to discern where He had seen her before. She seemed eerily familiar but nothing was quite fitting together in His mind to discern the mystery. Evidently she knew Him but that meant little these days after that whole Kaggath affair, He'd been quite explicit about His fangs and unnatural regeneration so any that had heard of the elusive Sangnir would have some inkling of His nature.

Luckily she chose to speak up again after they had left the other teams far behind, although unluckily her question made Him pause His heavy steps mid-stride. "Let?" The word was choked out between clenched teeth, His head cocking back and to the side at a rather uncomfortable angle to regard her without turning around properly. "You speak as though I had a choice in the matter." The lightsaber in His hand seemed less deadly than His tone at the moment.

"I didn't 'let' the Heir of Marr win. He bested me. Somehow. I thought I had achieved something far beyond mortal limitations but that brat-" Darth Strosius forced Himself to pause before He could indict Himself fully, choosing instead to lash out and put a dent into the wall to soothe His frustration. He rolled His shoulders and let out a sigh before resuming His march forward. "If I had it my way I wouldn't be here cleaning up the corpse's mess, someone else would be cleaning him up off of the floor."

 

[The King in Red]

Kaila Irons // Darth Strosius // Quinn Varanin // Tamsin Graves

A tremor ripples through the port as the last hiss of outside wind dies behind the sealed blast doors, and both parties feel the floor throb with a slow, unnatural cadence. Far ahead of Darth Strosius and Quinn, the maintenance corridor widens into a tall service gallery where rust-red emergency lamps gutter behind cracked transparisteel. Loose wiring hangs like vines, and rimed coils of frost drop in brittle flakes each time the facility exhales another pulse of stale air. The temperature wavers between frigid drafts and pockets of furnace-like heat, an oscillation that makes breath plume and evaporate in the same instant. Somewhere above the lattice of catwalks a figure—too thin, too fast—flits across the glow before melting into shadow, leaving only the echo of taloned footfalls and the faint click of a valve handle turning on its own. Ahead, the service hatch to the auxiliary power station sits half-ajar, its magnetic seal flickering in and out of lock as if the system cannot remember whether it is alive or dead. Each time it shudders closed, the word "key…forge…" crackles from a damaged wall speaker before guttering back to static.

Deeper in the opposite wing, Kaila's shoto casts a tight crimson cone over ribbed ventilation shafts and frost-clogged gratings while Tamsin's fire-bright gaze pushes back the dark to reveal more than naked light ever could. Where the heat of their passage licks at the walls, veins of ice boil away to expose faint runes etched beneath the plating—sigils that drink in the glow and pulse like embers. A violent gust tunnels through a side vent and snuffs the shoto for a heartbeat; in that instant an arc of blue-white static lashes the corridor, searing a commando droid's optical array before it can raise its rifle. The clang that follows is rhythmic, deliberate: metal on metal, hammer on anvil, accompanied by a low, guttural chant that carries no direction, as though the corridor itself is mouthing the words. The air grows heavy with ozone and the acrid tang of scorched flesh.

All at once the whole facility spasms. Red strobes stutter to life, bathing every surface in hypnotic pulses while a fractured PA system booms half a diagnostic: "Heat Cores Three and Four: inactive. Manual ignition sequence: thirty-seven percent… Biological-signature anomaly detected…" A holomap flickers on a nearby bulkhead, revealing a spiderweb of power lines converging on a central forge well two levels below—then dissolves in a shower of blue sparks. The momentary surge opens the comm channel long enough for distant screams and the words "ingot moving… floor heartbeat…" to bleed through before the link collapses in feedback.

From a grated trench beside Strosius and Quinn, a coil of dull-black metal slips free like a living cable, runes throbbing scarlet along its length. It skitters across the deck with an insect's grace, gouging shallow furrows before vanishing into another vent—whispers of a hundred overlapping voices trailing in its wake. Far off, the hammering grows louder, and the next pulse beneath the floor feels less like machinery and more like the steady beat of something vast and waking.

 

[Kaila Irons]

OBJECTIVE II​

Wearing: Armor + Thermal cape + Mask
Tag: Tamsin Graves Quinn Varanin Darth Strosius

"Living people, gods willing." Kaila answered quietly.

She'd had enough of psychoactive ghosts and rogue droids for one lifetime already, and just once, wanted to find allies or cut down alliance infiltrators, something simple.

Then she paused a moment.

"You know, I've never actually seen a wampa. Maybe they do?"

The corridor darkened momentarily as her lightsaber flickered unnaturally in the intense frost exhaled from a nearby vent, and then it all started to go wrong. In just a blink one of her commando droids was blinded in an electric flash, then violently laid to the floor. In the same breath, A second lightsaber lifted from her belt to Kaila's outstretched hand, violet blade held in a defensive guard as she stepped back away from the vent.

"Watch those vents!"

She began glancing up at nearby vents, counting them, then back down at her gauntlet to activate her commlink.

<<"Hostile contact, in the vents.">> she tried speaking to Quinn Varanin and Darth Strosius .

Another glance showed Kaila that the fallen was SB-17, whom she recognized by a marking slashed through the sigil of the Haxion Brood emblazoned on it's chassis, where 17 had fought off a criminal ambush what felt like a lifetime ago. She know every one of her droids by number, and yet...

"Damnit! this is why I stopped sending droids!" she hissed.

Hacking, Ion, spirits that turn her machines against her, it was always something driving that rift open.

Angered by a foe she could not see, Anathemous used the force to rip a panel from the wall and slam it over the vent, the metal groaning and crunching as her telekinesis forced it partially into the vent and clawed itself to the wall, a crumpled barricade against frost or perhaps the enemy.

"Tamsin, what can you see?" she called over the shrieking metal.

​

 

[Jacen Breska 'TK-710']

FIND OUT WHAT HAPPENED[/center]

EQUIPMENT: DC-17m | Jacen’s Second Legion Armor
LOCATION: ::Malgus - Arturius-023:: Chamber Theta-3
TAG: CT-312 Trayze Tesar The Final Omen Commodore Helix Lirka Ka @OPEN

Monstrous abominations. That’s what Jacen thought of most droids anyway. These six ooze dripping butcher machines? They raised the bar.

But with a mix of continuous fire and his trooper brethren, only two remained in time in a room with walls with eyes and the droids of nightmares shrieking as their cores exploded, casting light across the room. But, still, only two remained. Perfect, he thought, two left for Marc and I to show them all how it’s done. With their attention drawn elsewhere, Jacen signaled to his companion, and together they rose…
And then the droids froze. The two remaining droids screeched as if beset by their own nightmares. Clutching aimlessly at their heads before the light in them died and they collapsed. All six, together, destroyed or functional, once again lost that spark that drove them.
“Did they…just stop?” Marc asked, lowering his weapon. Jacen looked around in shock, “Huh,” he uttered, glimpsing at the rest of his allies in the room as he cautiously stepped out from behind his barricade and just as cautiously began to approach the collection of droids, his weapon still trained on them as he optimistically kicked the broken leg frame of one of the two ‘remaining’ droids that just seemed to…give up. When the droid returned nothing, not a sneak attack or a sound, Jacen nodded. “I’d call that a uh…win…I guess,” he said, turning from the droids as he approached the center of the room where the vibrations of movement seemed to originate. With a deep breath, Jacen crouched down and looked at his hand, squeezing it tightly, before placing it flat on the floor.
Thump….thump…

Jacen recoiled, rising back to his feet with a jump and wiped his hand off on his armor. “We need to destroy this place!” he exclaimed just as a crack formed on the back wall.

“GUYS!” He called out, pointing to the crack, “What the hell is that?!” He asked in terror as he raised his weapon again and backed away to rejoin Marc behind the small cover they had.

​

​

​

 

[CT-312]

(All art on this bio/thread is made by me. The rights belong to myself. Please do not use the art without permission. Thank you.)
//: Jacen Breska 'TK-710' Trayze Tesar Commodore Helix Lirka Ka The Final Omen , OPEN //:
//: Malgus, Arturius-023 //:
//: Attire //:
//: Weapons: DLT-19, EC-17 blaster, Vibroblade Knife //:
//: OBJECTIVE 1 : Find out what happened. //:

A pulsing sensation was felt, CT-312 couldn’t tell if it was another hallucination or if it was her battle high coming to. Quickly scanning around, spotting TK-710 and their Trooper, Marc. They made it out of the ambush unscathed. A faint audible hum resonated through the Scout Trooper’s helmet. Shifting her eyes to see the other Troopers, from their physical reaction they too were dazed. It wasn’t just her who was experiencing this. Whatever is going on with the Chamber Theta-3, everyone was experiencing.

They needed to get in touch with the command network. Now more than ever. Their ten minutes check-in was almost time and what they found needed to be relayed.

“CC-1441, RK-1001 try to establish comms with the Black Kahn” Voice raised with a hint of urgency.

Both Troopers nodded running off. Splitting from each other to gain more coverage, repeatedly pressing their comms.

“Ground team to Black Kahn, are you there? Over”
“Can you hear us? Black Kahn?”

Hearing the two say there weren’t any responses.

“Keep trying! Or else we are all screwed.” CT-312 snapped, growling through gritted teeth. The Jet Pack and Assault Trooper realized the urgency of the situation. Once more they scrambled around to see if there was any spot that would get a comm signal out.

Witnessing Commodore and Administrator Lirka make short work of their droids. Only one technically remained. The final droid spasmed and a surge of energy went off like a small flashbang of red-violet light, briefly blinding the Scout Trooper.

“Uh CT-312. You may want to take a look at this.” pointed out by the Flame Trooper, nodding to the wall of faces. Looking back at the wall, the eyes were all looking down. In her peripherals she saw the last robots seized. Lights dimmed as if it was shut down, only to be shrieking. Filling the whole chamber with its unbearably loud noise.

“Argh, What the–”

“I GOT SIGNAL”, CC-1441 frantically shouted out loud. “It’s choppy, but it’ll have to do” trying his best to communicate over the shrieks.

Ignoring the droids, the Scout turned around sprinting towards CC-1441. Activating her comms, connecting to the Black Kahn.

“Chamber Theta-3! I repeat we’re inside Chamber Theta-3! Do NOT shoot. Uploading helmet footage. Ground team inside Chamber Theta-3, video upload, Do Not Shoot.”

Hoping the Black Kahn was able to hear at least half of the comms message. An error on the full footage upload flashed on CT-312’s HUD. Only the footage from the time they arrived at Chamber Theta-3 to the glowing eyes on the ceiling with her yelling “contact” was uploaded before it was cut out.

They all were met with silence. The droids stopped. Another sound from the distance could be heard. Walls started to form small cracks as the lights pulsated in the chamber. A heartbeat could be heard from beneath them. The Troopers all looked around trying to figure out what was going on.

“We need to destroy this place!”

CT-312 shouted “Get to a stable platform! Guns Up!”

“GUYS!” He called out, pointing to the crack, “What the hell is that?!”

The Troopers braced themselves with weapons aimed for what was to come.

​

 

[Tamsin Graves]

​

Theme: Ice Ice Baby
Equipment: Twin Omens | DE-10 | Combat Knife | Multi-Tool | Circlet of Projection | Stars Enchained
Direct: @Kaila Iron | The King in Red
Nearby: Quinn Varanin | Darth Strosius

Tamsin watched as the droids dropped to the ground from a blast of ion's that struck them. Then quickly she turned her eyes to the vent as Kaila moved quickly with her telekinesis to cover the vent as she warned Tamsin to stay away from them. Tamsin could not see if what had released the ION attack, not sure if it was biological or mechanical. Tamsin stopped in her tracks at her master's side.

Tamsin's glowing eyes scanned the area around them as Kaila's asked her what she could see. It wasn't just what she saw, the sounds and smells as well all hitting her senses at once. "Runes, I can't make out what they say but they have a weird faint glow to them. Along the walls…." For a moment she thought maybe she should wake the demon inside her, they would know what runes were saying, but she quickly put that notion away. She needed to do this herself. She needed to prove she was capable of herself.

"I need to learn the Spell of Interpretation…." She said more to herself than to Kaila as she had been studying up on her culture, learning about the some of their more unique uses of the force.

Her hand went for her saber pulling it free from her belt as she continued to look around. "You hear that….metal against metal…." She started to bob her head slightly to it realizing it was moving in a pattern. Unlike a real hammer to anvil, it was that consistent, even with the best smiths only in movies did you hear it move in exact rhythmic pattern like this. She couldn't pinpoint where it was coming from though. "It's either artificial or a machine doing it, it's the only way it can be that consistent."

The smell then hit her nostrils rancid burning flesh…..she reached up with her free hand and pinched her nose. She needed a helmet like her sisters at this moment. "Oh god, oh god, oh god….I can taste it in my mouth!" She started dry heaving as the putrid touched her tongue.

Then the facility spasmed again and Tamsin stumbled as she held her saber in one hand and with the other, she pinched her nose. Her eyes followed the runes on the wall as they seemed to lead a path. "I don't know what's in the vents but my best guess would be to follow the runes……" She said between gags of the rancid air.

 

[The King in Red]

The makeshift barricade Kaila wrenches over the vent groans once, twice—then holds, the metal frosting at its edges before a gout of frigid vapor hisses back into the duct and dies. All around, the faintly glowing runes Tamsin spotted kindle brighter, veins of garnet light crawling away from the plugged vent as though redirected toward some deeper artery beneath the floor. Each sigil pulses in time with that far-off hammer rhythm, the blows now echoing through the bulkheads with machine-perfect regularity. A cloying wave of scorched-flesh stench rides the next tremor; for a heartbeat the air itself feels greasy, as though invisible embers drift past the skin.

Fifty meters to the west, Quinn and Strosius feel the same rhythmic jolt shudder along the maintenance catwalk, the red glow of auxiliary lamps strobing harder as a web of tiny fissures spiders across nearby wall panels. Between pulses, a filament of rune-etched metal uncoils from a ceiling seam, dangling like a serpent over the narrow path before retracting with an almost curious twitch. The dent Strosius left in the bulkhead flares ember-bright, the impact crater now ringed in the same script that guides Tamsin's gaze; the lettering bleeds across the wall, sketching a crude arrow toward a service lift shaft marked "CORE ACCESS."

Over every open comm, a burst of static resolves into the same mechanized litany—three words repeated in a chorus of overlapping voices, half code, half chant:

"Forge…needs…key."

On each repetition the lights dim, the hammer cadence accelerates by a fraction, and the temperature rises a few painful degrees—as though whatever sleeps beneath the floors inhales more deeply with every syllable. Somewhere behind the sealed vent Kaila blocked, something metallic scrapes in retreat, skittering deeper into the ducts. Ahead, both teams see their separate corridors bend toward a central juncture; the runes along the plating throb brighter in that direction, promising either guidance or a trap. The next pulse underfoot feels like the momentary beat of a vast heart, closer now, its tempo syncing with the glow of the sigils and the inexorable clang of unseen hammers in the dark.

Kaila Irons // Tamsin Graves // Darth Strosius // Quinn Varanin