Faction The Night's Sacrament of Odacer-Faustin | Iron Wolves [ME]

[Vytal Noctura]

ODACER-FAUSTIN near HYPERGATE CHANDAAR

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Lost in the bowels of this abandoned world are secrets Darth Drear left secreted away. You came here knowing this. Having heard the stories of Darth Scabrous’ reckless Impiety. How many generations has it been now? How many more do you think it will take to unbury a text that purports to solve Life’s greatest flaw? Are you wiser or more powerful than Darth Scabrous? I mean that only with the utmost respect – that someone of great power failed to properly unlock those answers. Yet, here you are, digging away on a prayer.

I offer freely what you only hope to someday find in these bitter wastes. Not at some undefined period long in the future with empty promise of hope only to be consumed by your generational curse. Today. This very hour. More, it is a True answer. A Perfect answer. No tricks. No regrets.

All I ask is an invitation inside.

Warmaster Vytal Noctura stood before the assembled Packs. A planetary map of Odacer-Faustin hung suspended in the air behind her as she spoke. “This recording was sent to the Iron Wolves via the Temple on Yavin IV. The speaker’s name currently remains a mystery. What they intend to do with the people of Oblivion’s Gate is also unclear, but t’would seem nothing natural.”

“Our task will be to go to this archaeological colony, locate its leader S’ren Nolford, and determine why this message was transmitted to us. What they may have discovered.”

“I will lead a team in search of Nolford. Another team will investigate the colony and see what they can discover. A scout ship will remain in orbit to monitor the surrounding area for any developments while we’re on the surface.”

“Gear up and be ready to drop in five minutes. Move out.”

The Iron Wolves would be dropped from orbit or transported down to the surface below depending on assignment. They would start at the small spaceport that’d been constructed to ferry supplies to and from the colony. No response was received from traffic control on approach; but while space was at a premium, the landing pads were free of clutter.

Tunnels led from one moderately sized enclosure or dome to the next, with several wider branches feeding to the central and largest dome at the center. The outside winds were biting, but the interior was a brisk if comfortable temperature.

From there it was up to the Iron Wolves to discover the fate of the colony’s people, and perhaps inquire as to the construction of the unusual architectural makeup of the castle at its heart.

Kael Varr Basteil Skirata | Talohn Atar | Leea Pandac | Adelle Bastiel | Dreidi Xeraic | Tessa Thayne | Julra Repraj | Eenia Vahn | Garo Vevut-Varkor | Janous Ryss | Liorra | Vyse de Valorous | Sanguina Krev | Ashé Fenn | Vael Saren
Open to Mandalorian Empire, Mandalorian Force Users, Witches


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[Veyla Krinn]

The dropship's descent was anything but gentle.

Veyla stood secured along the interior frame, one hand wrapped around the overhead support as the hull vibrated under the heavy strain of atmosphere and wind. The turbulence didn't bother her; if anything, it sharpened her focus, pulling her attention inward even as the colony of Odacer-Faustin came into view through the narrow viewport.

Below, the settlement stretched out in muted tones of gray and frost, its structures clustered together in tight, practical formations. Domes were connected by reinforced tunnels, everything built with the cold necessity of survival in mind. It should have looked active and functional, a place teeming with life.

Instead, it looked hollow.

No movement crossed the landing pads, and no signal lights cycled to guide their approach. The spaceport sat open and waiting, less like readiness and more like a place abandoned in a hurry. Her gaze lingered on the stillness, her eyes narrowing as the dropship adjusted its angle for the final drop. There was a haunting familiarity to this kind of silence. The heavy absence that followed a disruption, where a space had not yet decided how to settle after the chaos had ended.

Her fingers shifted subtly against her handhold, a small adjustment of her grip rather than a sign of tension. Vytal had already given the order; the Wolves would move and find their answers. Veyla simply watched.

The ship hit the landing pad with a controlled impact, the shift in weight rolling through the frame as the engines stabilized. As the ramp lowered, the cold cut in immediately, sharp enough to be felt even through the insulation of her beskar'gam.

She stepped down with the others, her boots striking the duracrete in a steady rhythm while her attention moved instinctively across the landing zone. She scanned entry points, sightlines, and structural integrity. Nothing looked out of place at a glance, and yet nothing sat right. There were no signs of a struggle, no evidence of an organized evacuation. There was only an absence.

Following the line of a sealed tunnel entrance, Veyla fell into formation with the group. She moved with a practiced ease, neither rushing nor lagging, her presence settling naturally into the unit as they transitioned from the biting winds of the surface into the colony's inner systems. Inside, the sound of the gale dropped away, replaced by a contained, artificial stillness. The temperature shifted to something more controlled, but the change only made the silence feel more pronounced.

Veyla's pace slowed by a fraction. Not enough to disrupt the group's movement, but just enough to register a change in the air.

There was something here. It wasn't a sound or a presence she could put a name to, but a pressure that didn't belong to the architecture. It felt less like a physical place and more like a threshold, the kind that only truly mattered once you crossed it. Her hand hovered briefly near her sidearm before settling again, the motion small and instinctive.

She remained silent for now, continuing forward into the tunnels. Her attention sharpened as the colony closed around them, every sense quietly adjusting to a space that looked perfectly intact on the surface, but felt entirely wrong somewhere just beneath it.

Vytal Noctura

 

[Talohn Atar]

BIG SNIFFER​

Talohn had been amongst those assembled. Despite his somewhat goofy nature being a known happenstance, he knew when to keep to himself and let things go about unhindered. Being a tad silly on comms was one thing. Interrupting a whole brief was another. Though frankly, the blue furball was more afraid of what Zlova would say if she heard about it, rather than whatever threats Vytal could conjure. Not that he didn't think she could be threatening. That aside, his main focus was on that message. He had a multitude of questions about it. Half of them likely spawning from his lack of knowledge on Sith history. He would get bits and pieces from Zlova but it wasn't like the lethan was handing out seminars. Either way, he would save his questions for when they were planetside.

Talohn stepped off of the transport as it arrived, weaving his way between two more bulkily armored mandalorians that had been on it with him. His attire consisted of the medium armor oriented Protector Type Beskar'gam. He had just gotten it from the workshop a week or two ago. He had some changes and alterations that he was ruminating on. A new paintjob included. But it would serve him well for now. His helmet was off currently, resting under his left arm. His free hand idly rests on the holster of his pistol. His nose twitches as he sniffs the air, his pace picking up as he does so, only slowing when he catches up to Veyla Krinn . "People have been here very recently. I can't pick up anything concrete but...I think...." He sniffs the air again. "A bothan. A few humans....mayyyybe a nautolan? Some sort of aquatic sentient. The scents aren't stale. A day old at maximum, an hour or two ago minimum. But I can't get anything more solid than that. Ugh. I hate air recyclers." His nose scrunches up. "They always ruin a good nose-" He goes rigid, his words cutting off as they enter the tunnels to the next dome. Whatever he just caught causes him to clip his helmet to his belt, unslinging the Ori Sidaki he had hanging from his shoulder afterwards.

"On your toes. I'm picking up copper in the air. Either someone's already dead or...no they're dead. Only way I'd be able to smell it from here. I'd say that's a good first lead though." He looks to Veyla and then to the rest present. "If you agree with me, I can follow the scent. If we decide on that, I can't keep the scent with my helmet." He chuckles nervously. "I humbly request that you shoot anyone else's brains out before they shoot out mine." He looks about, waiting on the group to decide if they continue following the path, or following his nose. He seemed perfectly content with either option.

 

[Adonis Angelis IV]

ODACER-FAUSTIN near HYPERGATE CHANDAAR

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━​

Since his rescue, Adonis's existence had been a muted grey. He had endured things during his capture that would break most men had they been in his shoes, but he held fast, never breaking, never even so much as uttering a word to them. He had proven himself stronger than them, but at what cost? That was still to be calculated. Aether had asked Adonis to accompany Vytal Noctura on the mission, even if it was not long after his own rescue. His reasoning was it would let the Mandalorian meet some of his fellow Wolves, since they had condensed the Force Users from the Knights to the Wolves since his capture, and it would allow Adonis to not wallow in his pain.

He had agreed, though not out of eagerness. Stillness had become dangerous. In silence, he could still hear them, and movement filled the quiet, even if only slightly. It dulled the grey. So far, it had gone fairly well. He had been fitted with a quick replacement of his armor that was destroyed by the Imperials, while he had plans of re-forging his own armor at a later date. He still had the emboldened eight pointed star of House Angelis burnt on the front, and the regal gold and white color scheme was present, but it didn't have all the accouterments of his old armor. It felt lighter, there was an absence. Something of him had been left behind in that cell, and whatever remained had come back sharpened in all the wrong ways. He had stayed to the back of the transport as it made its descent toward the planet below.

He knew he was here on an official capacity, but he still found it hard to speak, given his long silence previously. Words felt unfamiliar now, like tools left unused for too long. He left any small talk for when the ship landed and they were planetside. The Mandalorian had a bad feeling about what they were going to find when they landed, but he chalked it up to the cloud that had followed him since his rescue. Still, the feeling lingered. Not fear-never fear- but something colder. Something that felt… known.

The ship settled down gently compared to some of the landings he had endured, but it shook enough to put pressure on his ribs, still healing from the multiple breaks he had suffered. He choked on his breath, refusing to let the sound escape. Weakness was not something he would give them, past or present. Pain was expected. Pain meant he was still here. Instead, he fell into step with the others, his larger frame rising above them in his armor. On his beltclip sat his lightsaber, and across his back rested a heavy repeating blaster, both ready to be used at a moment's notice. His hand brushed the hilt briefly, for certainty. It was still there. He was still himself.

The cold air nipped at Adonis, even through his beskar'gam, wind whipping his cape back and forth in a frenzy. The planet seemed to be devoid of anything redeeming, which seemed perfect for it being so close to Sith space. It was one of those planets that would be the first to feel the effects of war if the fragile peace between powers gave way. That gave the warrior a bit of pause as the group descended, if the Sith were making a move, this would be the perfect place to do it.

As Talohn Atar spoke, Adonis backed up his claims with the Force, reaching out to feel what lingered over the area. There were indeed visitors here recently, and they were heading in the direction the Cathar suggested. But beneath that… something clung to the space. Faint, but wrong. Like rot hidden beneath something freshly turned. His jaw tightened beneath his helm, but he said nothing of it. Not yet. "Go ahead, we will cover you." They were the first words Adonis had spoken since their arrival. His voice was cool, quieter than he would have preferred, but it carried. There was no hesitation in it, no fracture. Whatever had been done to him had not taken that. Adonis then reached down, placing a crush-gaunt covered hand against the ground, drawing in the impressions left behind. He focused on his training with Force sight, mapping the direction forward. It aligned with Talohn's instincts.

Looking over toward Veyla Krinn , she was another face he hadn't recognized. Younger, by the look of her, than most present. "Guard up, keep an eye on our flanks. Don't let anyone get a drop on us." The strength in his tone returned as Adonis slipped back into the role he knew best, protector, warrior. Something steady in the storm. It was colder now, edged by what he had endured, but it held. That part of him had not broken. Not yet. And whatever waited for them ahead… it would have to try harder if it meant to finish the job.

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[Sanguina Krev]

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Tag: Vytal Noctura Veyla Krinn Talohn Atar Adonis Angelis IV

As the transport rocketed towards the surface, buffeted by the atmosphere, Sanquina leaned against the bulkhead, seemingly unfazed. She preferred ground, nature, beneath her feet over the nothingness of space. A firm hand gripped a handhold, but her mind was elsewhere, her head was lowered, long salt and pepper dreadlocks falling around her face, swaying as the vessel rocked. Those who could see would notice a crimson smear placed precisely at the center of her chin, and one on her forehead. Others with strong senses, like the Cathar, would smell the coppery note of blood.

Her breast rose and fell within her beskargam with deep breaths. She sense the blood of those closest to her, the thud of their hearts. She listened to their vitae, unasked. She heard no sign of disease, of toxin, only strong, healthy lifeblood suited to warriors.

When the final landing cycle began, her head lifted, revealing features that seemed younger than her graying hair suggested. Her cool gray eyes slid open and glanced at those besid her. The redhead warrior, whom she knew, the Kryze. Strong with piercing emerald eyes, the well-earned scar on her cheek failing to mar her attractive features.

Nearby was the Cathar. She knew him also, at least by sight. He was a talkative one, and she had often seen him with the crimson-skinned the Twi'lek Sith.

Finally was the Knight. Large, solid, silent. Adonis Angelis had not spoken a word since leaving the main ship. She sensed the depth of his musings, dark, troubled behind a stalwart resolve. She had heard what the man had endured recently. Yet there he was.

Disembarking, the group moved together behind the Warmaster towards the colony proper, Sanguina found herself following behind those three again, Veyla, Adonis and Talohn. As they moved, Sanquina caught the subtle taint of something undefined, unnatural. The Cathar's olfactory senses were active as well, and he offered a running commentary on the smells detected along the way.

Adonis finally spoke, commands that sounded less like orders and more like ideas foolish not to follow. Sanquina donned her helmet and reached out with her own form of sensing.

 

[Vytal Noctura]

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Vytal strode down the ramp and onto the frozen world's surface. If it weren't for the blood red armor and her black tattoos one could lose track of the pale woman on such a planet where becoming snow-blind was commonplace. Her green eyes surveyed the perimeter as the Wolves secured the landing area. "Howlers, secure the LZ." She didn't explain why making sure hostiles didn't get their way off the planet was important. No one liked 'stay with the ship' duty, but some Pack ended up with it every time.

Black lips thinned for a moment. "I'll advance toward the center of the colony." Her attention fell to the group whose attention had been drawn. "Investigate what you've found, and meet me there when you've finished the investigation." Whatever happened had started somewhere and must have left clues scattered about. No need for the entire group to go to the same location. It wouldn't be difficult for them to catch up after they checked their lead.

Unless anyone had reason to suggest otherwise, the Warmaster signaled for a few Packs to follow her down another road.

The scent of the living, or recently-departed, never seemed to grow stronger even as the group advanced, but a good nose knew the direction in which it lay all the same. Near the outskirts of the colony, the dome was filled with mostly low stature dwellings one or two stories tall. Roads made mostly for pedestrians and some perhaps some cargo haulers were clear of clutter. A parked hover sled here, some crates there, but no signs of hastily discarded produce or bags.

In the not too far distance, over the tops of some dwellings, seemed to be a three-story tall building off-set from the dome's center. Was that where the scent was leading? Or was it beyond? Would the group explore the interior of buildings, or leave the dimly lit interiors to themselves until more of the colony was explored?

Veyla Krinn | Talohn Atar | Adonis Angelis IV | Sanguina Krev | Open​

 

[Veyla Krinn]

Veyla didn't hesitate when Adonis spoke, her gaze shifting to him the moment his voice cut through the quiet. His tone was steady and grounded, carrying a weight that volume never could, and she held his eyes for a fraction of a second to measure his intent before giving a small, acknowledging nod. "Understood," she said simply, offering no embellishment or attempt to take control that wasn't hers.

Her posture adjusted almost immediately, easing a half-step outward from the group's centerline to open her angle just enough to watch their flanks without breaking formation. Her attention moved across corners, doorways, and upper levels in a steady rhythm, never settling in one place for long as Talohn's words about recent presence and the scent of blood lingered in the air.

As they advanced, her gaze swept the dome again, slower now as she searched for absence rather than evidence. Finding no scattered belongings or signs of panic, she noted that whatever had happened hadn't spilled outward. "If they were taken or moved, it wasn't from out here," she said quietly, her tone thoughtful but certain. "Too clean." Her eyes lifted toward the taller structure rising beyond the lower dwellings, its placement suggesting a deliberate purpose. "Something pulled them inward."

She didn't linger on the thought, instead shifting her attention to Talohn as he prepared to follow the scent. Noticing his unease, she spoke with calm directness: "Go. I'll stay with you." She offered a brief glance toward Adonis. Not seeking permission, but acknowledging the structure he had set, before adding, "I'll keep his flank covered."

Her hand settled firmly near her weapon as she moved into position beside the Cathar, her presence steady rather than intrusive. "Call it the second something changes," she told Talohn, her voice low but firm. As they moved deeper into the colony, the stillness pressed in around them, less like abandonment and more like something waiting. "Stay close," she murmured, her gaze flicking across the empty structures one last time before settling forward. "This place isn't done with whatever started here."

Adonis Angelis IV Vytal Noctura Talohn Atar Sanguina Krev

 

[Elian Abrantes]

@Open

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"I'm not here for combat, I'm here for support damnit!" Elian voiced as he elbowed he wookie next sitting next to him at the communications hub of the ship. "If they need a good fix, or something that requires the skills of a slicer, I can help." Elian shrugged his shoulders as his hand moved over the navicomputer, just to do a doublecheck to make sure everything was running smoothly. Sending out an encrypted message to mandalorian personnel, if something was needed on his end, he would get it done.

"We should go do a perimeter sweep of around the ship?"

"You can go, I"m gonna stay right here." Elian shook his head as he turned the chair and faced forward towards the computer.

"Aww, little human is scared!" Laughter erupted from the wookiee.

"I'm not scared you dirty rug. I'm just being smart. There's only so much I can do with one arm okay!"

"Stay here scaredy cat, and I'll be right back."

Elian shook his head. "StAy HeRe ScArEdY cAt." Elian mocked back as he watched him move away.

The young Abrantes sighed, resting his hand on his chin as he stared out in front of him.

 

[Adelle Bastiel]

Tags: Vytal Noctura | Kael Varr Basteil Skirata

Odacer-Faustin hadn’t been on Adelle’s list of planets to ever set foot on. Its surface was afflicted with snow that rivaled Hoth and winds that pierced through armor and clothing like a beskar spear. But the Warmaster had received a transmission and its contents needed answering. Darth Drear and Darth Scabrous alone were enough to warrant attention, but the message itself made everything far more concerning.

Adelle fell in behind Vytal as she signalled for the Iron Wolves assigned to follow. The spaceport, the colony, the streets… There should have been people. Noise. Movement. Instead there was nothing. No signs of life anywhere. Given what Adelle knew about the history of Darth Scabrous, the silence settled in the pit of her stomach with a quiet dread.

It didn’t help that Kael was in her pack and walked with them.

“Do we know if the transmission was received by anyone else?” she asked the Warmaster as they walked. If someone else received the transmission, took the offer in it, it didn't bode well. She glanced over her shoulder at Kael.

“Turn your filters on high and don’t touch anything,” she said quietly.

 

[Kael Varr Basteil Skirata]

ODACER-FAUSTIN near HYPERGATE CHANDAAR
Armor: Owl-type Beskar'gam
Blade: Tal'Alor Beskad
Primary Weapon: Plasma Bow
Secondary Weapon: Paired Beskar Tonfa

"Elek Ti'puri'r" was Kael's only response as he used the force to manipulate the controls of his helm, keying in the settings while he kept his bow at the ready. His black-and-white armor only served to break up his silhouette in the snow; even so, he slipped into his own form of moving battle meditation, now centered on himself, further blanking his existence to perception both physically and in the Force. In this ghosted state, he moved with the others, waiting to be let loose to hunt. He sent an encrypted message to his Buir and pack leader, "Rala ibic oya'karir busa'ga, bal cuyir kyr nakine."

tags: Adelle Bastiel Vytal Noctura

 

[Garo Vevut-Varkor]

Garo walked in silence, his canine basilisk trailing behind him; there was no getting around it—if the pack wanted Garo, his basilisk friend came along too.

He kept pace with the others, his hand unconsciously gripping one of his vibro-tomahawks.

Pondering what the Siths might be plotting, he simply listened to the others. For now, he was walking with them and still adjusting to the idea of a pack—it should be something natural, shouldn't it?

He put that thought aside for the moment and followed the others.


Adelle Bastiel Kael Varr Basteil Skirata Vytal Noctura

 

[Sabine Delacroix]

The wind carved its way through the colony in long, hollow currents, slipping between structures that stood too still and quiet for a place meant to house life. It carried the sterile scent of metal and cold stone, but beneath it lingered something else, an absence, a void where life and sound had been stripped away.

Sabine stood within the fractured remains of the colony's outer supports, where shadow and structure overlapped just enough to conceal her form from casual sight. Not that concealment was necessary in any conventional sense. The Force itself seemed to drift around her, slipping past as though unwilling to acknowledge what stood within it. From that vantage, she watched.

The Mandalorians descended with all the precision one would expect: disciplined, efficient, purposeful. Armor gleamed dully beneath artificial light as they moved to secure their landing zone, fanning out with practiced coordination. Orders given, positions taken, and the rhythm of a well-trained force settled into place with little wasted motion. To most, it would have been an impressive display.

Sabine regarded it with the distant interest one might afford a well-rehearsed performance. They were capable. Some more than others. A few even carried the faintest brush of something deeper, Force-sensitive, perhaps. It did not matter. None of them warranted more than a passing acknowledgment. Her attention moved across them once, slow and measured, before settling inevitably on the one presence that did.

Vytal.

There was a subtle shift in Sabine's expression then, something almost imperceptible unless one knew what to look for. Recognition, certainly. Perhaps something warmer beneath it if Sabine were capable of it. She watched as Vytal moved among them, issuing commands with the same quiet authority Sabine remembered, the Packs responding without hesitation. The corner of Sabine's mouth curved faintly.

She remained where she was for a moment longer, allowing the scene to settle, observing not just movement but the way the group oriented itself, the subtle dynamics at play. There was tension here, beneath the surface. Unease. Something was wrong, and even those without the senses to name it could feel it pressing in around them.

When Sabine moved, it was not with speed or spectacle; there was no flourish of power, no dramatic unveiling. She simply stepped forward, and the distance between them ceased to matter. One moment, the space before Vytal was empty. Next, Sabine stood within it. The air did not shift, the Force did not cry out, but there was a weight to her being that pressed quietly against perception, demanding acknowledgment whether it was understood or not. Her robes fell in perfect lines, untouched by frost or wind, black fabric absorbing the dim light rather than reflecting it. White hair framed her pale features in deliberate contrast, every detail composed and controlled. Her amber eyes did not wander; they simply settled on Vytal.

"You are late," Sabine said at last, her voice smooth and unhurried, carrying effortlessly despite its softness. "I suppose, however, I do have plenty of time." There was no need to raise it. It simply reached where it needed to. "I see the children have you playing Warmaster again." The faint smile that followed was sharper at the edges now, touched with that old, knowing wit that had survived millennia without dulling.

Her gaze shifted then briefly, deliberately toward the Mandalorians. It was not a look of assessment. Nor was it curiosity; it was the kind of glance one gives to something acknowledged and dismissed in the same breath before turning her attention to Vytal, where it belonged.

"I was beginning to wonder if I would need to come retrieve you myself."

TAG: Adelle Bastiel Kael Varr Basteil Skirata Vytal Noctura Veyla Krinn Talohn Atar Adonis Angelis IV Sanguina Krev + Open
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[Liorra]

Liorra didn't know who Darth Drear was, or Darth Scabrous, though she thought for a moment, do Sith just pull their names out of a helmet? Unbury a text? She was still trying to understand why she was even here.

Then the Warmaster spoke, and the young woman was scribbling, stylus to datapad. "Arch," she continued, "wait, is that ae, or just e?" She shrugged, jotted down an e, and proceeded to write archeology. She pressed the stylus to her helmet as if scratching her head. "What's archEology?" she inquired, still confused as to why she was looking at a planetary map of Odacer-Faustin. Where the heck was this place anyway?

To be honest, Lio wasn't sure what was happening. They'd started at a small spaceport constructed to ferry supplies to and from the colony, landing pads free of clutter, and then she spun on her heels.

"Vod! Vod!" she shouted, already running toward Adelle, Kael at her side. "Vod."

She caught her breath, having just missed what Kael had said to Adelle. "Um." Liorra tilted her head. "What's an Iron Wolf?"

Kael Varr Basteil Skirata | Adelle Bastiel ​

 

[Vytal Noctura]

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Vytal glanced back at Adelle Bastiel at the question. "Twas deliberately cut short, or they couldn't relay more. I doubt it was deliberately sent elsewhere." Though who knew if it were intercepted in transit.

Their progress forth was soon arrested with Sabine stepping out from the shadows before them. The Pale Witch slowed to a stop and regarded the Vampirika. A fine black brow lifted at her chiding remark of having kept her waiting. "The price one pays for sampling a Pool of Knowledge." That and being a species that was naturally long lived.

"I would have spliced the worlds together and been here sooner, but I try not to tempt the interest of the Ancients," Vytal added. Another price, but for someone that tasted of a Font of Power; and spent a good deal of time in the Depths of the Nether.

"Prolonged wait aside, tis good to see you again, Sabine. Have you sensed anything of interest while you waited?" Or had Sabine Delacroix forestalled any efforts to glean truths in order to keep the mystery 'fresh' for them both? Sometimes a good mystery was only properly enjoyed in company. Though Vytal wouldn't complain if she'd sought to divine something of what had transpired.

A subtle radiating presence could be felt in the Force (Manda) coming from the center of the colony. Shadows in the corners of the eye would seem to shift, and grow instantly still when turned to stare at them.

Garo Vevut-Varkor | Kael Varr Basteil Skirata | Adelle Bastiel | Liorra
Veyla Krinn | Adonis Angelis IV | Talohn Atar | Sanguina Krev
Elian Abrantes
Open​

 

[Elian Abrantes]

Shuttle​

Objective - Tech Stuff/Communications/Don't lose another limb


This isn't quite the ideal thing, it was funny actually. He was getting more frustrated every time he worked with just his one hand. That situation could've been solved so easily if he just started utilizing his prosthetic arm. Maybe he was trying to teach himself patience and discipline.

Perhaps he was just an idiot. He was probably just an idiot. He knew Sibylla and Cassian would probably attest to that statement of admittance from the young Abrantes.

"Perfect, this will increase signal strength and also keep out any foreign chatter that would see to hinder their duties." Elian sat up from the floor after working on the wiring and apply new circuitry to the housing cores.

He brushed himself of as he set his tools down. He looked towards the landing hatch as it opened back up. His friend had just returned from his survey and scouting of the area around them.

"Any luck?!"

 

[Talohn Atar]

CURIOUS CAT​

As the others encourage him to continue on, his plan seeming serviceable enough, the cathar takes one hand off of his rifle to give a playful salute before he spins about, nose twitching as he begins leading the group down the hallway. His eyes, biologically able to ignore the darkness, peered into every corner where the lighting was dim. Those sensitive pointy ears caught talking echoing down the hallway from the landing pad. He found the fact that people were being positioned to keep anything from leaving to be an interesting little nugget. Vytal must have known more about this than she was letting on. It was time to pick her brain on that. After all, what else were comms for?

As he led his fellow wolves through the hallway, he tapped a button on his wrist to activate his comms. <<"Hey, Nightsis....bossgal...uh, I suck at titles, but I assure you both of those were said with the utmost respect even if the terms were wrong. That aside...what's going on with this place? I'll admit that I'm no scholar on sith history. So those sith mentioned in the message don't mean much to me...but I get the feeling they existed too long ago for them to have caused whatever is happening here directly. Any intel, even theories, would be pretty nice to have about now.">>

Talohn was beginning to pick up on it the further they went in. That odd feeling in the force, and movement in the corner of his eyes. Something. He just couldn't outright catch it. Even if the shadows didn't exist for him like they existed for those that were behind him. It was as they carefully made their way down the hall that something in one of those shadowy corners caught the cathar's gaze. Using a two fingered gesture, Talohn points in a multitude of directions, effectively requesting for his compatriots to stand point and guard in said positions while he investigated.

He then slowly makes his way towards that shadowy corner, the flashlight function on his right wrist flickering to life as he got closer. For the rest, that would reveal a body face down on the ground. A selkath from the looks of it. A body was concerning enough. But something was even more deeply wrong. "This...isn't the source of the smell. In fact...I don't..." He kneels by the body one one knee, idly placing the butt of his rifle on the ground as he holds it by the barrel with his left hand. His orangish yellow eyes look the body over. His eyes narrow as he grabs the shoulder of the body, huffing as he turns it over. He stares at it a moment longer, his teeth gritting as it contorts in even more confusion, brows furrowing. "That..." He allows his rifle to lean on his shoulder as he leers at the neck, his now freed left hand grabbing the arm of the body to hold it up. He makes a quick and deep scratch across the wrist with one of his clawed fingertips. "This definitely isn't the source of the smell." Letting the arm fall limp to the ground as he takes up his rifle again, he looks to the others with a grave expression as he rises to his feet again. His next words are sent over comms for all to hear. <<"Found a body. No blood in it. Not a drop. Fang indentations on the neck. There's some vague bruising on the face. Almost as if the body fell after...">> He shines his flashlight upwards, revealing an open vent shaft just above the body that led to utter darkness. <<"Dammit. Vents.">>

 

[Veyla Krinn]

Veyla moved the moment Talohn signaled, acting without hesitation or wasted motion as she shifted off his shoulder line. She took up a position along the indicated flank, angling her stance to cover both the corridor behind them and the adjacent openings that could collapse into a threat without warning. Her rifle came up, not fully shouldered but ready, as her attention split cleanly between Talohn's investigation and the surrounding shadows. She made sure not to crowd him, trusting his senses implicitly while she maintained a vigilant watch over everything else.

The moment he turned the body, her gaze dropped to follow his movements, tracking the grim details as he spoke. She noted the eerie stillness of the corpse and the total lack of resistance, but it was the absence of what should have been there that stood out most.

Blood.

Her eyes narrowed slightly, and when he cut into the wrist, and nothing followed, her posture tightened just enough to shift her weight more firmly into the ground.

"That's not post-mortem loss," she said quietly, her voice carrying the tone of a clinical observation rather than a startled reaction. "That's removal."

Her gaze lifted as the light traced a path upward, eventually settling on the dark yawn of the open vent, and she didn't look away from it even as she continued to speak.

"Controlled, too," she added, her voice remaining even but gaining a sharp edge of focus. "There is no tearing and no struggle marks here, which suggests the kill didn't happen in a moment of panic."

Her attention flicked briefly down the corridor and back again as she recalculated their situation, processing the efficiency of the scene before them.

"Whatever did this didn't need time to finish the job, or perhaps it simply didn't need permission," she said, stepping slightly closer to Talohn to tighten the space between them without blocking his path. She ensured they had mutual coverage in case something dropped through that vent.

"You said the scent wasn't stale, which means whatever we're looking for is still moving, and it isn't staying on the ground," she continued, her gaze remaining fixed on the overhead darkness.

Her rifle came up fully now, angled directly toward the vent as her stance shifted to anticipate an attack from above rather than from the hallway ahead.

"We don't split up here, because if it's using the vents, it is choosing exactly when and where it wants to engage us," she said, her voice dropping lower but remaining firm enough to be heard by the others.

She kept her eyes locked on the shadows above, her instincts humming with a warning she couldn't ignore.

"Which means it is likely already watching us."

Talohn Atar