The Howling Ruins

[Triko]

THE HOWLING RUINS- VAKLIN​

​

​

​

By the early morning, the rugged canyons of Vaklin glowed a fiery orange, those steeped rocks set ablaze by the sunbeams. This grand canvas of orange was streaked with stark black shadow, the Howling Ruins themselves eerily silent as they loomed over the canyons- without a breeze to provoke their screams, the only sound to be heard was the soft padding of boots upon rough ground. A lone figure treading through the ancient ground, Triko climbed steps consumed by dust and time, all in search of those towering gates of legend- the treasures of millions surely lay within those mysterious walls.

Nestled between the towering rises, the jawa looked smaller than usual, a blaster pistol at his hip and a slugthrower slung over one shoulder- with each step, the weapon clinked and clunked, almost as long as he was tall. As comical as the sight was, there was a certain seriousness to this place, in all its eerie majesty.

When the browning stone of the gates came into view, the blocks of stone seemingly holding the mountains apart like wild dogs, Triko knew this seriousness was likely going to be short lived.

[member="Menoetius"]

 

[Menoetius]

​

A few minutes earlier...

The sand blasted ruins gave birth to a small canyon on the edge of their domain, a sheltered safe haven home to dust and sand that lay as still as the canyon itself. Harsh shafts of sunlight penetrated the haven, boiling the ground underfoot, illuminating the grand desert carpet as it snaked its way towards the looming structure at the canyon's end. The structure lay undisturbed, forgotten by time and the elements alike, testament to the engineering prowess of whatever ancient civilization had constructed it.

That was about to change.

Dust and sand that had laid still for millennia was violently disturbed, forcefully ejected from the ground by the motion of walking. Small clouds of orange grains momentarily enjoyed the experience of flight before coming to a rest in newly made footprints, settling in for another thousand year rest.

Menoetius marched towards the colossal doorway, the grim look of determination plastered across his corrupted face. Climbing cracked steps, he threw out both arms and directed his power outwards, sending a sizable kinetic blast at the ancient stone doors which groaned at the impact - parting just enough to allow an Anzati passage.

Stepping inside, Menoetius found himself shrouded in a darkness that was not his own wretched cloak of emotions. An uneasy feeling crawled into his gut as he ventured further into the ruin, causing him to grip the lightsaber on his hip in anxious anticipation. Up ahead, however, a dull yellow glow pierced a vertical line in the wall, which Menoetius soon realised was another doorway. He stepped through, shielding his eyes from the blistering sun, and gazed around. For the first time in many months, his jaw hung open, amazed at the almost mystic architecture that greeted him.

After the Anzat closed his jaw and caught his breath, he stepped off, moving towards the closest building in search of clues.

[member="Triko"]

 

[Triko]

The smooth, artfully chiseled stone was warm to the touch, rising so high above the little creature as to seem endless, a pillar of neolithic stone that might even pierce the heavens.
Triko spent few seconds contemplating this, nonetheless- riches were to be had, and so he needed to keep moving. With reverent, tentative footsteps, he slid around those massive pillars, one fingertip tracing a thin line across their flat surface; dust fell away in gentle waves, a cascade of fine orange that shimmered in the morning air as it slowly sank unto the dirt below. An invisible grin spread across the Jawa's face as he neared the gates themselves- never had two blocks of stone brought one such joy. Those gates exuded promise, mystery. The secrets and wealth of ancients lay beyond their solemn rest, the great crack broken into their flat surface a portal into a realm forgotten.

Basking in the golden light it exuded, he drifted, meandering, through the gap; his sensitive eyes were blinded for a second by the sheer weight and size of the marvels within.

From all sides rose towers, peristyles, courts crested with balustrades, a palace of such enormity that it seemed bigger than the stars above- all leaned over the canyons and rises of the city, defiant as they clawed their way upwards. Sunlight shot out from every one, crisscrossing in a spider's web composed of pure, divine light. Standing alone atop a circled forum from which staircases rose and fell in incredible patterns, like the petals of a stone flower, Triko simply gazed in wonderment, unsure where to begin-

It was then that he noticed a dusted set of footsteps, leading into a nearby building- they were evidently fresh- perhaps even those of whoever had broken the gates.

That was probably a place to start.

[member="Menoetius"]

 

[Menoetius]

[member="Triko"]

The building was generic in shape; a cubic mass with a hollow center, but was decorated in elaborate carvings and bronze trimming. Despite being made from sandstone, an arguably primitive building material, the construction was impressively sound. Perfect angles and stellar techniques were evident in its design, something Menoetius wouldn't have noticed if it wasn't so perfect. The flawlessness was mentally noted and then the Anzat stepped inside, through a doorway that was missing its door.

The roof had long since collapsed, covering the floor in scattered rubble and fine dust, which made navigating through the structure harder than expected. Menoetius gazed around with curious eyes, searching for anything worth investigating. After all, he had all the time in the world.

Or not.

Something within the Anzat's brain tingled, a familiar sensation that was the force informing him of a disturbance. Concentrating, he closed his eyes and reached out, scanning the immediate area for whatever was causing ripples. A small being was moving towards him, though Menoetius was unsure of its race or if it were even sentient. In the face of doubt, he chose to be prepared, calling his lightsaber to his left hand and turning to face the doorway.

His eyes narrowed in anticipation as he waited for the creature to enter, if it even did.

 

[Triko]

Almost instantaneously, the sun-baked stone of the ruins around him seemed to look a lot darker- perhaps it was just the passage of time; truly, he had no idea how long he had spent waiting outside the building, so grandiose were its spectacles. Robes slithering about his sides like a thousand snakes, squirming in the morning light, he stepped forwards, sliding his blaster out from that battered scrap of leather by his hip; its scarred surface was stained a dull red with blood, as was the weapon that usually rested there.

In his hand, it looked remarkably large, a chipped, boxy thing, with an odd number of holes drilled into its barrel as a testament to the fine craftsmanship of the Jawa people. Sunlight bounced off the chipped black durasteel as he glanced to see if it was loaded, red lights blinking about its crooked sights.

It was.

Nodding to no one in particular, he drifted inside, gun held firm in both hands.

"No worry! All safe. I is only Jawa scavenger, unarmed! No looking for trouble!"

With a click, he took the safety off.

[member="Menoetius"]