Private The Undercroft | Coruscant

[Astra Sadow]

"No one follows us in." Astra stared at the small group of guards she'd brought with her over the tops of her glareshades. "Kill them, if necessary." Murder wasn't beneath her, but drawing unnecessary attention was to be avoided. Even if the Sith Covenant were in charge of Coruscant they still had to enforce some facade of order or justice to keep people in line.

This was a private party. Astra didn't appreciate unwelcome visitors. People could intrude on a moment. Sometimes that was carnal, and sometimes that was strictly business, but in both cases interruptions were often lethal. After all, she gave so much of her time to managing the galaxy's problems the least it could do was respect when she wanted a little personal time.

Though, in this case, her personal time was being shared with that of Kasir Dorran . Intriguing man with a certain disposition she found... pleasant. It would be difficult for her to explain to outsiders what she saw in him. They saw a business woman before them; one capable of cut-throat and immoral acts, certainly, but one of them. 'Normal.' Nothing could be more insulting, but she had to endure such demeaning sentiments for the greater good. Her greater good.

With her orders emphasized, Astra turned with a sweep of her long jacket to stride down the long hallway. "Ever visited the Undercroft? Worlds like Coruscant have histories even the Archives have forgotten. People, places, and events that changed the galaxy lost to time. Buried under countless levels of duracrete and durasteel. Undisturbed for fear of what has grown in the abscence of the living." Astra chuckled. "Beasts, monsters, and demons people think only exist in remote world at the edge of the galaxy far from where they slumber. Far from their bastions of safety. But," her burnt gaze swung to Kasir, "nothing is further from the truth." Or did he disagree? Astra wanted to learn more about the man's inner thoughts and cravings.

Kasir Dorran​

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Astra Sadow​

Kasir found the presence of guards a strange commodity; protection was something he bartered for himself time and again. At least the response was reassuring. Hiding the blade constantly was a rather dull affair. Then again, he'd always been accustomed to operating alone, by both training and preference. An easy thing to become attached to. Even within the Order, he functioned as nothing more than an instrument; not once had he ever cared to be part of that collective. Aside from the High Priest, a lone monolith, and a few others within his doctrine, he couldn't name a single figure or council member; they were simply irrelevant. Identity shredded and reforged in fire, this was the works of a darker mind that calculated like the void.

More often than not, this only bred misunderstanding, and so the same from Astra felt.. inevitable. That wasn't to say the Sangir was.. dismissive, but he understood that trust was a folly, and companionship, nothing but an illusion.

Coruscant itself was nothing more than a curiosity, but on the level of artifice? Quite boring. But the idea of unearthing relics or the like was appealing, for it mirrored his work in Wild Space on planets such as Tund. Many assignments often too involved creatures, anomalies, or other Force touched remnants beyond the Jedi prey that were hunted.

Steps echoed down the long hallway as he found himself walking alongside the woman. A dark gaze was heavier than most but there was no desire to conceal it; most never noticed, or found it impossible to withstand. Choosing to work with her her was an uneasy concession, a foray into foreign territory where comfort was neither sought, nor found.

“No. Never.” The reply cut through the gloom without hesitation. "Until recently, its existence was but a whisper to me. Something folklore just buried in the dust.”

A glance returned to her; just the eyes, a drawn visage drained of warmth, almost like a portrait. “People convince themselves the dark lives far from them. Harder to accept that it crawls beneath your floorboards, that it flows within your veins.”

The tongue moved incisively across a tooth, but no smile softened the pallor of his features. When the words returned, they became sharper. “You speak of monsters and the like as though you expect to meet one tonight.” A faint tilt of his head followed; it was clear that he wasn’t brought along for a tour. “Or is this all just some masquerade? What is the hunger that brings you to this forsaken place.”

The path ahead received his attention then. One nasal breath left him, white in the cool air. “Brief me on this ground.”

 

[Astra Sadow]

​

"Hunger," Astra echoed. "Yes." A smile. "I hunger." Her steps stilled and she turned her head to look over at Kasir. "There is nothing in this life or the next I do not hunger for, Kasir. Down here, I hunger for the lost and the taboo. For life and death and," the leather-wrapped woman turned as she stepped closer, "blood," the word heated and breathy. Her lips parted just enough to suggest malcontent at remaining sealed at the thought.

With a soft chuckle she turned away. "The Undercroft is many things to many people. Most of them fools dreaming of that which they have neither power nor will to claim. Credits, weapons, or quaint island cities full of beautiful and warm bodies. What I seek are things Force Users and their enemies desire most. Artifacts and knowledge of bygone ages."

A golden ring slid back to regard Kasir from the corner of her eye. "And, yes, I expect monsters. If there are things of power lost down here their influence will have twisted even the simplest lifeform into a terror to prowl these tainted tunnels. If there are no monsters then there are only trinkets for some merchant to display on a mantle to demonstrate inordinate wealth to ignorant visitors." The smile wilted as she spoke of the merchant and their baubles. Astra -- or her employees -- would sell as much and utilize the credits received for effect, but that wouldn't bring her satisfaction. "Not a tenth of the satisfaction you or I seek."

"Who knows, Kasir, if you find you like it here I might let you know where other entrances are on Coruscant. Some connect with one another. Entire levels lost. Others are self-contained. No two are the same. Places so many treasure hunters salivate over in their dreams for what might be down here. You, and I, are going to explore this one. See how deep it goes, and what shelters there. Does that excite you?" It was obvious the man was not easily entertained. Perhaps Astra would delve into that matter when they were deeper in. When he couldn't so easily flee.

"Ah, yes," Astra reached into a pocket of her jacket and produced as a small, circular object. "And there's this. With so much ground to cover we could be here months. This artifact helps guide the way, but not always in a straight line." Astra extended the golden device out to Kasir. "Why don't you have the privilege of using it first? Just focus on what it is you want most."

Kasir Dorran​

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Astra Sadow​

Nothing betrayed itself upon that neutral expression; but beneath the surface, a tide of questions surfaced; these were dark currents drawn solely to a peculiar shape of the woman's existence. Undead, like him. Another with a blackheart. Even so, questions were curiosities as well, seldom allowed. That was why silence stretched between them as he listened. The invocation of blood, however, passed through his inner dark; this may have been an echo of shared appetite.

“Hunger shapes us,” affected with a steady gaze. “It’s what binds the living to the dead, something to drive our kind forward. But it isn’t just about taking, it also carries memory, inheritance some might say, fractures of what I’ve lost.” Kasir assumed their trades placed them on opposite ends of most things. Time would tell. “The line between what we desire and what we destroy is thin.”

Credits and weapons meant little to him; they were tools for those chasing surface victories. What truly mattered were the truths buried beneath layers of time. Secrets that could fracture realities or reveal something etched deep inside. The Undercroft’s allure wasn’t in its spoils. Another part of him yearned for the challenge, something new to conquer, one might say. “I too seek the knowledge that outlives us all.” Even as an immortal, the Sangnir accepted that his personal mythos and craving for the crimson sustenance was drawing him ever near to ruin.

Surely, not too many had ventured into these forgotten veins. "How many times have you been down here, Astra? And who else knows about it?” Of course, the thought twisted cold within him. Secrets like this never survived exposure; some might dare say those who spoke of them deserved their tongue removed, so that reckless talk couldn’t reach further ears. Words could travel too far, and trust too little. It was one of many reasons why Kasir’s colorless lips carried more silence than speech.

"Excited? That’s an interesting choice of word," the Sith mused. Perhaps it too was edged with skepticism born of many cruel lessons. “That’s not something I feel. Interest is the closest you’ll get with me.” It didn't strike him as a place to be thrilled about. "What if it's just a hole in the city's underbelly for hope to drown?" This might've been the duelist in him speaking as well. Interest ran deeper. Deep was an understatement. Depth was something learned watching opponents swear they were ready for whatever came next, until the moment they were dragged out to the deepest waters. Many loved to feign gameness and believed they could swim, but still ended up drowning. “Treasures are fine, but I want to know what happens when the light fades down here.”

Kasir’s gaze narrowed as he accepted the golden artifact from Astra’s outstretched hand; it was warm beneath his icy fingers, and so he turned it over, as if it might shift or betray some hidden mechanism.. a trick of light to deceive the desperate.

“What I want most.” The phrase tasted hollow upon the tongue. Power. Yes, it whispered seductively, a dark promise of command and dominion. Knowledge.. ancient and forbidden. Each desire lay before him like a broken mirror. But none of it felt true. Well, her instruction was also somewhat deceptive in its simplicity. What does he want most? Anyone considering the labyrinthine of his mind would be walking into death itself. So, was this some ruse to provoke thought? "If this is a trap.." He began, and then the shift was detected. The object grew warmer against his palm like a lantern. With it came a sensation that was neither sight nor sound.

What surrounded them next appeared to be ruins of some collapsed section, swallowed by neglect. Details slowly emerged from the gloom. There were faded carvings into stone. Symbols beneath construction. There was evidence that someone had discovered this place and chosen to continue onward at some point. Or an investigation of sorts.

His focus returned to the passage to study the ancient symbols "Tell me," said while offering the trinket back to Astra, "is finding hidden paths what this thing normally does.. or is it behaving strangely?"

Sound behaved strangely near the entrance. There were carving too, though they depicted no gods, kings, or any kind of victories one might imagine from batltes. Only figures standing in a circle.

 

[Astra Sadow]

​

Astra smiled and chuckled with Kasir's stoic response. What he's lost was it? A philosophical man trapped in a frozen shell. Such a romantic.

"I've explored several paths. As for who knows about them... hard to say. Not many. Most that dare set foot here are never heard from again. It has a deserved reputation." So believed fools that ventured down here simply died from broken or unsteady infrastructure long neglected. Why people were too afraid to enter didn't matter, really. Astra wouldn't care if they all thought it was some fantasy dungeon where they'd become the Main Character if they came out the other end. If anything, finding them down here screaming as a monster gnawed on their limbs would be entertaining.

As for officials... why would they bother? Buried this deep with whatever foul creations secured within and no trouble beyond its boundaries... it'd be a waste of resources to deal with it. The Imperials? Those that learned of it coveted it. Who didn't want the spoils for themselves? An army of troops would only raise awareness by their rivals. It was the perfect abyss in which to swallow souls. Kasir probably wouldn't care to hear that. It wouldn't affect his own pursuit for what lay within.

Excited. Yes, Astra could tell Kasir was overflowing with zeal for what might be to come. If excitement had the expression of a sheet of durasteel.

Astra laughed with the man downplaying the possibilities. "That's exactly what it is. For the weak." A hole where hope went to drown. Precisely. Hope for a better future purchased with riches borne from spoils. Hope for meaning in a galaxy consumed with terrors and horrors beyond imagine. Hope for the lost to find purchase in an endless tide of change. They expected with a simple act that the world would open itself to them, embrace them, and all their problems would be swept away.

Kasir was a good sport and accepted the artifact. Not so good a sport not to begin threatening her of reprisal if it was a trick, however. Smart. Astra's reply would have to wait, however, as the man's attention was drawn to the device in his hand. Best not to interrupt. They were here for a reason, after all, and Kasir wouldn't be amused if that was 'just to chat.'

The mirth faded as Astra turned her head to regard the nearby area and how it had changed. A grunt followed Kasir's words. Her hand reached out to accept the artifact and slip it back into her pocket.

"It can." Astra looked over at Kasir. "But something reacted to it."

Slowly, she dropped to one knee and reached down to feel the ground with the tips of her fingers. "Strange material to use. Is this a deeper level than we were on?" A sharp clack of rock echoed from up ahead out of sight even for those able to see in darkness. "Tell me, Kasir, what sort of predator are you?" Astra's palm pressed to the floor to better feel the light ripples of vibration in it. Whatever it was, it wasn't headed toward them just yet. Difficult to tell how far away it was.

The red-leather bound woman rose back to her feet. "Do you engage in dark arts? This chamber reminds me of..." Astra gave Kasir a smirk a look before she continued, "...old places of learning. In fact, I wouldn't mind taking a look at that altar at the other end of the room."

Kasir Dorran​

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Astra Sadow
​

Sound arrived, though that might've been the wrong word. There was pressure, akin to a tomb exhaling when something inside stirs; Kasir felt that very sensation on many hunts across forgotten worlds. Whatever it may be, something not incredibly far away was aware. Stranger still was that she chose to kneel before him. Pupils narrowed, then widened, adjusting to the shadows as a creature born in it. In any other context, indeed that gesture would have been foolish.

His own heel pressed lightly into the floor. "Deeper than any sane mortal would walk willingly." But then, if the artifact too answered hunger, then the Undercroft in its own right was a mouth, having tasted them both already.

Words came slowly, as he decided to offer an answer to her second question. “A sculptor of despair. But, never for sport; devotion demands more than just claws.” Because the hunt should be savored, layered like the slow burn of dark wine upon the tongue unaccustomed to mercy. Saliva thickened with the memory of silk tearing flesh in midnight’s embrace. “I am divinity that holds the balance between ascendancy and ruin for those who trespass into my path.“ A demi‑god within the enclave on Mustafar, or so the murmurs claimed.

Given his nature, there was no shame in admitting he trained deeply in one discipline, perhaps even a second; he’d never been crafted to be well rounded. Even so, the coldness of his gaze was meant to cut through that ephemeral veil; the one between questioning, and understanding.

“Service binds me to the High Priest of Bogan,” the confession slipped between them. “I am the executioner behind the Black Wall.”

It was entirely possible he’d gotten ahead of her; Astra didn’t seem like the sort who overlooked what wasn’t spoken aloud. “The dark arts are not hobbies to me; they are instruments.”

Kasir would wait, ready to shift so that he might match her stride. In truth, it was a strategy, for the unknown was better explored when unified. And part of it was older; he had never liked footsteps at his own back. "That altar is not a relic for learning. I’d daresay it is an echo of judgment.”

A soft exhale, almost a sigh. “What kind of predator are you, then?” The pressure felt moments ago returned in ripples pressing upward, twisting in the air. Noticeably stronger than before. He wondered if the stones may yawn to reveal something buried ahead. Believing they were down here alone would’ve suggested blindness.

Time within the Core was minimal at best. “Does the local lore paint you monstrous too?” The next confession dripped slower than the first. “I find that monikers matter little.”

 

[Astra Sadow]

​

Instruments. A dispassionate manner with which to describe something so... fundamental.

Astra didn't mind whether the man chose to walk ahead, behind, or beside. She prefer he rather not be ahead despite the benefit of him triggering traps first; a woman didn't mind when their male escort showed a little respect. So, she was pleased to find him at her side in short order without saying anything.

"You are of the High Priest of Bogan?" Astra regarded Kasir with a smirk. "Overseeing the Council that watches over the Old Worlds?" Best to save her commentary to herself on that matter. Kasir didn't strike her as the type to have humor in abundance.

"I am a spider, Kasir. My web is vast, my servants legion, and I prey on those of my own choosing." Long ago she'd subsisted on convenience, but much had changed over time. Hard, tireless work had afforded her luxuries and time to realize her desires.

Astra's gloved hands spread out to either side at his question. "Some. Many. I don't pay attention to what they call me behind my back so long as they obey and show deference in my presence. I cut out the rot if their malcontent grows disruptive." If Kasir were being hones then they had that in common. If anything, people considering her a monster acted in her favor. Fear could keep people from doing anything foolish. Especially when you weren't looking.

One hand snapped up with a knife hand as Astra came to a stop. They were only a short distance from the altar now. Her boot slipped along the stone in order to turn a quarter of the way back they way they'd come. In time to see several groupings of stone lining the hall starting to shift and raise as something lifted them.

No smile touched Astra's lips and her hand dropped to her side at the sight. These were not creatures that brought great pleasure or amusement. Desiccated corpses were bothersome. Unpleasant in every respect except (often) the ease in which they were dispatched. "Temple priests left to protect their ritual chamber. Pathetic." This was the extent their immortality had gotten them. Decrepit echoes.

"A warm up."

"TEXT"

Kasir Dorran​

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Astra Sadow
​

Kasir’s tone was calm, forever stripped for extravagance. “No. I am an extension of his will. A blade. Nothing more.” The simplicity might have rendered the statement pedestrian to many Sith’s wary ears, yet Astra was not among their kin; at least, not in any way he had discerned. That wasn't to say he lacked other ambitions. “I would never take a seat on the council,” the acknowledgement fell without regret. “There is no allure in such languid throats clearing dialect.”

On most days, this was a soul unfettered by needless declarations; it was necessary she not take too kindly to his words. ”Trust is a blade without a hilt; I bear the edge, not the throne.”

His watchfulness shifted with as one attuned to dangers unseen. Any allegiance, if only for today, was not borne from fear or a weakness; a sentinel must always be bound by choice, not chains.

“A spider with a legion,” the Sangnir murmured. “Sounds like you’ve built something that survives on obedience and fear. Effective.” Kasir imagined the web was not unlike the Black Wall; this structure was held together by loyalty to the Order and the threat of annihilation.

And yet, he did not doubt her strength. For now. "Rot is a contagion that spreads faster than Light can travel. Your own blade is swift, then?”

His own ceremonial dagger came into view. Pressure clearly bled out from the altar in a slow pulse. From what he gathered, the corpses were only tendrils of it, shells pushed forward by a will moored deeper in the ritual slab. One moved too precise for decay alone.

"Warm up implies effort."

A small complication, but nothing more..

“The altar is driving them. Break them, but the source stays awake.” Highly likely an observation she already clocked too.

So, the darkness curled about his steps. Kasir closed the distance, landing a controlled strike that shattered the nearest shell’s sternum. For a prolonged moment the figure resisted collapse. The pulse from the altar throbbed again, summoning another corpse upright.

"Your turn."

 

[Astra Sadow]

​

Astra smiled beneath her red shades. An extension of the High Priest's Will? What a True Believer. Not that she thought less of him for it; every Lord could only wish for someone so unquestionably loyal. Whether it was so unquestioning as he would have her believed was another matter. Useful to know, either way; Astra would make sure not to denigrate the honor of the High Priest... without reason.

"And the promise for riches, influence, and power," Astra added to Kasir's reasons her network didn't try to tear her apart for the throne. "Every stick needs its carrot." The Sith had a reputation for ruthlessness and suffering, but those with a force willing to follow into that hell promised more than a waking nightmare.

Which left Astra wondering what carrot Kasir chased.

"Swift. Without mercy. Rot I do not stand." Lysander knew as much. Knew as much as she'd said, but then Astra felt he'd caught glimpses of it here or there; or had someone try to validate her personal narrative and that of Sanguine Enterprises. She didn't even care if he had, or if Kasir might try. The attempt wasn't offensive. If one of her own gave in to temptation to provide them information, however, that would result in heads rolling. No one talked without her permission. Call it professionalism. Call it fascism. Carelessness was a lethal sin; it brought down Empires.

"You don't find these worth effort?" Astra smirked. Well, they weren't. There were far more threatening fiends out there in the galaxy. Since they'd agreed on the level of response, however, Astra couldn't bring herself to unsheathe her sword. Instead, she lifted a hand. Her left finger swiped in, out, and then down; the risen corpse's left leg buckled, then its right, and at last its forehead was slammed into the floor. Each forced move came with a wet snapping sound.

A soft snort followed the disposal. "The source resists. We may have something intriguing yet." Astra had expected more than a single creature to bow before her with no effort at all. Whatever it was must have a recognizable level of strength or at least old. Some dark pools of power only needed time to grow in strength; otherwise had obtained the height of their power long ago. Astra wondered if this one was still growing, or was in need of their help changing once more.

"Would you expect the Core of this place to be a living creature?" Easier to consume if they still had blood. Though power was not often so easily absorbed, whereas an artifact's power could be.

Kasir Dorran​

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Astra Sadow​

Whatever carrot Kasir craved, he knew it would not be found in these halls; the Sangnir hungered for consequence, the thrill that came with bending one’s will. The taste of defiance broken beneath his heel was not something many understood. Rewards were illusions; true power fed on fear and the promise of oblivion.

The corpse before her snapped like a brittle twig, and in that same breath, his muscles coiled, tracing the altar’s heartbeat under stone. Pale knuckles itched for action. Of course he was fine with striking on her signal or before, whichever tasted sweeter.

His head tilted as if sampling the air. “Which feeds you more then, devotion earned or terror invoked?” And then he nodded once to what she’d spoken earlier. Mercy was a toxin to be purged; weakness is the contagion that must always be burned out. From the words that drifted between them, such ruthlessness sounded familiar. For Kasir, but a reflection in dark glass.

“A tempting carrot makes for the sharpest snare,” dark orbs locked on hers for a moment. “You can dangle power and credits like meat, but I hunger for escape from the chase itself.”

The real master of this room was deeper. An index digit pressed to his throat, so that he might imagine the vibrato of that presence. Whatever it was, it was ancient and dark. If fed, it may grow; if starved, chances were it could lash out.

But then, mayhaps, indeed there was a carrot as he speculated her question. “Alive,” murmured, fingering the tattoo carved into his forearm. “A sentient Core is a daemon in embryo. Its ichor could ignite entire nights.” It could also unmake him before dawn, but why doubt himself now? That would be rust that dulls the will. “What say you? Shall we bleed the beast dry… or pry its heart open and let it rage?” The Red Hunger shifted inside him, slowly waking.

Deep beneath the altar, a pulse began to shudder, swelling like a trapped heart. A thin seam split the stone, vapor hissing forth with ancient malice. The corpses littering the chamber locked in sudden obedience, spines bowing toward the slab as if caught in the wake of something slowly emerging.