The Gate Was Not Meant To Keep Us Out

[Lief]

The Gate to Necropolis​

The Black Pyramid​

Ankhypt​

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Had she not witnessed it with her own eyes, had she not surged much of her own life force toward the pup' who kick-started the process, she would never have even imagined the way in which the Gate before them had been opened. The glyph's which ran along the edge of the sandstone structure, ancient Sith runes, seemed to radiate and pulsate with a power they were barely able to contain, the souls of countless slaves, loyal through fear alone, seemed to cry out in lamentation with each step she took toward it. It was a wonder to behold, and even now, even after the time which had passed since the portal had been torn open, she still could not look upon it with anything short of awe.

Around them, more so clinging to the shadows as though afraid they would become the next pile of fodder at the feet of Typhojem, newly acquired slaves set to work as they awaited the arrival of those who had been sent for. There was no room for error, or disobedience, or even fatigue, they worked until they could work no more, and then they were replaced. Nobody had dared to drop in what could have been two hours now, though the cerberian hound seemed to watch in anticipation all the same. Their death brought about further growth for the already beast of a creature. She looked to him with a somewhat pride-filled expression, before catching herself.

He did not belong to her. Truth be told she did not believe that he belonged to anyone at all. Not even the God among Men. She felt his presence before she heard his approach, and slowly yet surely she turned from the Gate to look upon the most unholy of Gods who was no doubt nearing the monolithic structure. "It is stable, Deus," she informed him, with a respectful inclination of her head to accompany the words, though she knew he did not need her to inform him of such. It had been a success from the start, she had never doubted the power he wielded. Now there was tangible evidence to support it.

The pit swirled with a corrupting green light that lingered on every surface yet seemed to cast so little illumination. Even now it emitted a sickly aura that pulsated stronger than usual in the presence of the Man-Turned-God, enough to turn the stomach of even some of the Galaxy's stronger men, never mind the craven men and women who hid close to the walls. For all of its oppressive nature, however, the woman showed no signs of buckling. She did sink to her knees, but there was a strength and certainty that remained behind the motion, as she bowed toward the man in complete reverence.

"Is there more we can do, Deus?" How long before the Mercenaries arrived? That she did not know. There was a rumbling which seemed to travel through the Pyramid, down into the depths they now existed within, which gave her pause. Was that them? Was the hour truly so near? Anticipation rose within her, a slight excitement that she could not fully contain. That part of her which had attached itself the day she sank into the sands longed to reach out toward the Gate even now, but she pushed it down. So needy, it was, always so empty and needing to be filled.

But it was her God she sought to please, not some parasite against her soul.

 

[Causstik Rahn]

Causstik made his way across endless desert. The heat proving even to much for his cold blood. He rode a beast which species was lost on him. Something akin to a camel, but with three tails and four eyes. A large turban with a face mask adorned his scaly head. His retinue of troops marched along beside him. He had brought two hundred of his greatest warriors, so that they might complete the task set before them. So that they might die in the service of their gods and hunt forever by the Scorekeeper’s side. Causstik wore his signature armor, encrusted in precious gems including void stone. A white billowing cape wrapped itself around his neck and plumed out at his side. The desert wind kicked up sand and the like as it gently blew past the line of warriors. His sawed off scattergun sat idly by his side, he heard it baying for blood and caressed it soothingly. All the while the voices of his masters whispered sweet nothings in his ear.

Do you feel it. They asked him, worming their way into the grey matter of his mind.

No. Causstik thought simply.

Fool, a gate of potent power. One that leads were only the dead reside is near. You will traverse this plane and ascend to the next. Dive into the depths of Hell and bring about the rapture of this place.

Whatever, in Hell i’ll be in good company… Causstik told the voices.

He despised them with all his heart. They spoke in riddles and metaphors that confused him. The Sith spawn that was Causstik Rahn, hated them along with everything else with every fiber of his being. He simply wanted to see the galaxy burn. Perhaps he would make Hell his home. There he could watch others suffer for eternity. The Trandoshan derived a sickly sense of glee from killing and torturing others. He was indeed a cruel master.

The T’doshok slavers of the dread tooth warband made their way past ancient ruins, past giant statues that stood as guardians for tombs long since destroyed, day and night they traveled simply taking shifts sleeping on their mounts. Not even the great dust storms that plagued this planet was excuse for rest. The heat was intense, but soothed their cold blood. Eventually they approached the crypt that would lead them to the nether. They dismounted and waded their way through sprawling halls marked with ancient hieroglyphs. Weapons were always at the ready. The warriors would not be caught off guard. Weary of traps and ambushes the T’doshok kept an eye open for anything. They had been hired for a task the likes of which they hadn't the faintest clue of. But, they had been offered a stupendous amount of credits and for this they would do anything. Assuming this was not a trap...

[member="Maelasi Eramar"]

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

Fumes frose in position as the Flayer came to a sudden halt, it's Hyperdrive coming to a stop as its landing pad extended; the Matador appeared.
The great heat of this planet was reason enough to forgo the majority of his Beskar, save his breastplate. He wore a mesh flightsuit, with a Blaster on his hip and Saber on his belt. His shoulders were warmed by Durasteel pauldrons that incased his upper arms in black metal. A short flowing scarf was wrapped neatly around his neck and hung loosely behind him bellowing in the harsh thunderous wind. The Matador looked about him, landing adjacent to the Temple's entrance. He spotted [member="Causstik Rahn"] on his approach to the exposed portion of the Temple.

Causstik had arrived accompanied by his elite company of slavers, however the Matador had chosen to come alone; carrying only the bare necessities with him. There were demonic voices that filled the air, for a moment he thought that perhaps they were a trick of the raging heat. But the dark thoughts that seemed to wish to inhabit his mind, appeared to become more potent as he edged closer to entrance. Even so, they were but mere whispers in the wind. Only slightly more frequent now and he lingered at the entrance.

His first step seemed to convey some acceptance of circumstance to the demons that filled the air, as for a few solitary moments their whining came to a halt. He slipped down the darkened hallways as the daylight become less visible.

[member="Maelasi Eramar"]