Private The Writing on the Wall

[Sylok'Vanari]

Mountains.

For miles that's all that the surface of Chalacta provided to the two Draelvasier. The dry desert air reminding them how uncomfortable the heat felt against their skin. The two travelers were Aeravalin Mages, each wrapped in the cloth of their mixed colored robes. Despite the heat, the robes gave them comfort, a cooling sensation keeping the threat of exhaustion at bay. Plus, if they were ever going to reach the objective given to them by the Seers, they would need every ounce of energy afforded to them. Thankfully, for the both of them Chalacta had only one sun. Still, despite the nasty terrain, the ridges of the mountains continued to prove difficult and the two hulking creatures stopped, gazing out into the open desert valley.

"How much longer Weaver?" The words poured from the tall Scripter's mouth, his crimson eyes focused on the dusty landmass below.
"We are close.." Sylok responded, the tone barring no indication of his annoyance.
"We were close hours ago. The Seers won't be pleased if I go back with nothing."

Sylok ignored the comment for a brief moment, his grey stormy eyes scanning the base of the mountain they stood on. He thought on how he arrived here, in a desolate valley of dust and dry earth. In truth, the order came from a higher placed Seer. One that, quite frankly, had not gone through the proper channels to get an approval by others before sending Sylok and the Scripter to Chalacta. It was imperative that Sylok get the Scripter to the supposed temple of the Jedi. A source of information that otherwise had been left forgotten. Something that could help the Bryn, learn from their enemies in the long crusade against the non-moral weaklings. They...the Jedi were the true plague. The only thing that bothered the Ashaka Mage was the fact that the intel could have been exceptionally wrong, there might not be a temple.

Sylok gripped tightly to the edge of his robe, pulled it tight and turned towards his comrade.

"There may be nothing, you knew the risks when they told us." Sylok paused, his hand creeping out from the comfort of his cloak. "May Khaeus guide you Om'Nath. It's just us, be prepared for anything."

Sylok could feel the neutral pools of the force swirling across the planet, tiny traces of blue and green threads fading away as they continued forward. Sylok knew it meant Jedi had previously been here, but it could have been ages ago. The tiny fading puzzle pieces were barely vibrant and in everything that he knew, he questioned why. Those questions only led to the deep scaring reminder of Nar Kreeta. ( Reminder ) The images played in his mind as he hiked up further the jagged rocks, his flesh slightly twinging at the thought. Another image hit him. The searing pain in his ankle came back for a moment, another reminder of his defeat. Worse even, the loss of his father's blade. A Kukri that the Aeravalin had held very dear to his heart. Despite all that, he knew the ultimate truth. Sylok should've been dead, it had only been a week and his body recovered most of the damage, but the memory stained his pride. He grunted, his hand pulling the rest of his body up another level. A wide opening presented itself, two thick stones on each side pushed to the side to create a makeshift walkway, Sylok was stunned. His eyes lifted and he stepped forward. Small lush green patches of trees and tall grass came into view. Sylok's eyes widened, words escaping his lips.

"Get up here Om'Nath. I think we've finally found it."


Mathieu Brion ​

 

[Mathieu Brion]

The Writing on the Wall​

Location: Chalacta
Objective: Prevent archive data from falling into Bryn hands
Tags: Sylok'Vanari

"It is fortunate that your Jedi ancestors kept good records. Finding this temple would've been hard otherwise." Mathieu heard as Admiral Chaussidier spoke over the intercoms. But he didn't listen - not truly. Some of the information would stick by the back of his mind but all he could do as he gazed out from the cockpit viewport was to think of Inara. Chaussidier continued "The archive terminals on the second level contains ancient jedi teachings. Variants can be found in the Commenor archives, but your Jedi friends have informed us that these are unique. I won't pretend to know why but your objective is twofold. You must prevent the information from falling into Bryn hands and preferably also recover it for the Jedi."

The Padawan's gaze remained on the rocky surface below. He was supposed to come here with Inara, learn about her culture, experience it. Meet the people, taste the food, visit the sights. Maybe a bit of sunbathing. It was all so distant now, with the Bryn having taken over and the two of them having broken up. But even then, it felt so close, so intimate and personal. Perhaps he wasn't the best person for this mission after all. The Admiral disagreed - he appreciated the Padawan's skills and with his training in stealth, he was well suited for the task.

Mathieu let out a sigh right before Chaussidier's voice could be heard once more "Padawan Brion" It was a sharp reminder that a response was to be expected. He quickly jumped to attention, sitting straight in his seat as if the Admiral was in the shuttle with him "Understood, Admiral"

"Chaussidier out"

The intercom fell silent and all that remained was the hum of the engines. The pilot had brought the shuttle extremely low in order to avoid detection, reaching the point where manoeuvring between the mountaintops had become a necessity. "Just give me the signal when you want me to pick you up again" The pilot thew a kind glance at her passenger. It was hard not to notice that he wasn't quite as present as he used to be, but still, he nodded "Yeah"

"You'll want to get ready for drop off"

"Yeah"

Mathieu rose from his seat and walked back to the cramped back section of the ship. Even when he wasn't wearing the powerarmour which he so often wore when facing the Bryn, it felt as if he could barely fit in there as he checked his weapons again. Aside from his normal equipment which he carried during the last battle too, an additional blade now hung by his side. After having made sure that the slug thrower was loaded with cryoban charged L'Escargots, he allowed his hand to fall down and rest on the pommel of the Bryn weapon. Just like the second lightsabre he carried, this blade had saved his life. It was what had allowed him to cling on to that pillar and not fall down before Cadere could rescue him. If he kept holding on to weapons which had at some point been essential to his survival, Mathieu would more likely than not be unable to walk under the heavy weight - but that point had not quite been reached. Yet.

Soon, what looked like an oasis of pleasant green shades could be seen in the otherwise rocky browns and oranges of the mountains surrounding them. Mathieu could feel how something was off but did little other than to give the Pilot a concerned "Keep the engines running" before attaching the hook to his belt and allowing himself to be lowered onto the temple roof. The shuttle was a quiet one, but some extra gushes of wind were inevitable as it departed and those who listened carefully would've been able to hear it. Importantly, however, was that Mathieu made use of the stealth training he had received and started to burrow in himself, isolating his force capacities in his own shell and thus reducing his potency with the force whilst also minimizing his force signature. He was still a Padawan and his technique was far from perfect, but even then, it had a role to fill and he was far from incompetent.

Before even considering making his way into the temple itself by jumping down onto a balcony, he listened for noises, now unable to reach out through the force to gain the same information.

 

[Sylok'Vanari]

Om'Nath lifted himself up over the edge of the last incline, before a canvas of green living nature glazed over his scarlet eyes. Quickly, Om'Nath got to his feet. With a deep breath a long relieved sigh escaped him. In an instant he was greeted by a viridian canvas of living nature. Trees curled over, providing the first bit of shade either of the two Aeravalin had been able to enjoy in days. It was a welcoming sight, more over; it's exactly like the Seer spoke of. It was clear to Om'Nath that wherever the path brought either of them, his work was far from over. The tingles of the force sparked a swirling unease within his gut. He could already feel the searing lightside of the force pierce through the invisible walls of his own coveted form. It was disgusting to think that such useless creatures were given a gift like the force, but as a Scripter, Om'Nath questioned the force in a different way. The societal structure of the Bryn had almost cost him his life, before his powers were finally shown among the Ashaka. The rigorous rituals and trials, everything, it was hell. Even so, it made the Scripter stronger, more appreciative of his capabilities then the rest of the lot. Many Scripters were envious of their counter-parts, not being able to offensively harness the power of the force like a Battlemaster was a raw reality. Om'Nath cared little for being the sad jealous type, what fueled him was the unknown...the learning aspect of his gift. So, here he stood, ready to divulge in the secrets of the miserable Jedi.

"Exceptional.." Om'Nath stopped, pushing Sylok to the side. His eyes fixated on small engravings etched into the large rocks ahead. With haste he inspected them, his robe snapping twigs and blades of grass as he went. "These symbols, their amazing, before the current generation of the Jedi we now face." Om'Nath's words lifted with excitement, a smile forming on his face.
"There were many before them. Much like our ancestors on Draemidus Prime. How far back?" Sylok's curiosity was tickled and continued. "Can you tell?"
"Hm, I wonder..."

Om'Nath placed his flat palms against the carvings, small filtered lights slowly encompassing the rock as whole. Like a net, it wrapped tightly around the object in question and as the light of the force released it, it was gone. Om'Nath's eyes rolled to the back of his skull, his body jerking stiffly in a upward arch, patterns and slowly gathering whispers entered his mind. Sylok stepped closer, careful to make sure the Scripter didn't fall. There was concern, but then, just like the process of the light, Om'Nath recovered with the answer.

"Four Generations."
"I see. Anything else?"
"Yes." Om'nath replied plainly, but his eyes showed concern. "Bursts of wind. An arrival."
"So they knew we would come for it." Sylok grunted, frustration building. His hate for the Jedi had only increased after his failure on Nar Kreeta. The whole reason he took a mission so laid back was to get in and out with no opposition, but thankfully he had healed since the shameful incident. His fingers cracked as they formed into a fist, muscles tensing. "Let's get to the base of the temple, I'll lead. If we can avoid them, we will."

Sylok could feel the weird twisting tendrils of the force intertwining with his own. But it wasn't a Jedi signature...in fact, it wasn't anything but the calming neutral force as he reached out to sense the intruder. Sylok looked back to Om'Nath, if a Scripter felt something in the force he had to trust it. Slowly, they followed down the pathway, careful to tuck their robes closer, preventing snapping twigs and loose bushes from giving them away. As Sylok breached the meandering portion of the stone lit path, a tall structure made of stone and steel towered over them. Before Sylok could motion to the back side of the walls, Om'Nath planted his hands onto the massive temple.

Pinpricks of needles struck the Scripter as he tapped into the force, the inner walls feeding him information as he went. He had to be careful, overloading his body could mean death. He only needed a way in, a shudder of pain ripped through Om'Nath. As he bellowed outward with a roar of pain, Sylok rushed closer. He stifled the Scripters screams with his cupped hand around Om'Nath's mouth. Sylok only hoped it was in time to prevent from being known.



Mathieu Brion ​