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Wake the Dead



It was dark in here, and Methuzal had no way of exiting this wretched place. He remembered bits and pieces of his past life- sealing himself inside this place in a desperate bid for survival. It hadn't worked. He did not remember how he had arrived at this planet or why he had chosen it. He didn't even remember his species, gender... Anything. Bits and pieces all. He had been a cultist of some sort. Dabbled in the dark side. He had died in here, but now he lived again. Well, figuratively speaking. Methuzal wagered his spirit had somehow grown to inhabit the various carrion worms and maggots that had gorged themselves on his corpse.

There was no indication of how much time had passed since he locked himself away. Not that it mattered, as he failed to recall almost anything that didn't pertain to him as far as Galactic history went. But Methuzal was not concerned with any of that. He was more focused on finding a way to open the heavy stone doors that barred his progress in exiting this tomb. He wanted to leave immediately. This was a dull place to remain for all of eternity. There wasn't even anything in here, save for some inscriptions that he could not read due to the gloom, some robes, and a familiar-looking staff.

Methuzal slithered from wall to wall, scraping at each surface as if there was some kind of other hidden passage from which he could escape from. It was beginning to seem hopeless, unless someone happened to stumble upon this tomb and crack it open from the outside. But that seemed like a slim chance. This was likely a remote location, otherwise whatever being had occupied his previous life wouldn't have chosen to come here, surely?

The worm that walked made a guttural sound that might have been a groan or a sigh of frustration if he hadn't been made of vermin. He continued to desperately, desperately scrape...
The tunnels stretched on before her, completely dark and impenetrable visually save for the brilliant eyesight the Sith Lady possessed: a blessing and a curse in one. No one strode alongside her, one of the rare moments when she was alone; no Skydd, no Ashborn, no guard, Kara was here on personal business and she refused to be slowed down and hindered by worried and fussing servants. Barkhesh was a planet she had read of many times, for its history within the Empire was vast and its monuments and structures numerous, yet this was the first time she had ventured forth. Perhaps it was because it was out of her territory, although that had never stopped the Umbaran before. It is simply that time has not permitted me a moment of leisure, not even as a child. Not that she honestly minded, after all wasted time achieved nothing. Only, she was willing to ensure this was not wasted. There were secrets locked away within temples and academies and tombs such as this, and she was determined to unlock them.

Further into the cryptic vault she ventured, in mute awe at the glyphs etched into the very stone itself, the ancient sithese which marred the walls, images and symbols and stories. Had she millennia to waste she would have deciphered and read them all. But you have duties to attend to, people to govern, and much less than a millennia to live within. And that settled that. The more she explored, however, the stronger the tug she felt within her being became, guiding her on. Soon she was not even focusing on her surroundings, on the walls or the path she took, it had become intrinsic, natural; that's not to say she had a lack of control, she could have stopped herself at any moment, but usually when this happened there was something odd waiting for her. And as she silently strode through the tomb she heard it, the cause; a faint scratching, scraping, echoed around the tunnels. Something or someone was down here.

[Sorry I've not given you anything to go by with this; I didn't want to find you in the first post, seems a little unrealistic]


@[member="Darth Kyros"]

Wait, what was that? Footsteps? Truly the Force worked in mysterious ways, as Methuzal would have never thought that another soul would be caught dead in this bleak coffin of a building. A treasure hunter? Another cultist? A Jedi sent to purge the planet? It didn't matter, he just wanted to be released as soon as possible. If he had to feign "good guy" to do so, then he would. Then as the individual drew closer, Methuzal found that such a thing would be unnecessary. Whoever was approached was blanketed in the Dark Side, radiating power Methuzal had only dreamed of in his former life. Perhaps he would get a chance to play at such mastery over the Dark side in this lifetime.

Provided he, y'know, managed to secure his ticket out of this tomb.

Methuzal slammed his staff against the wall as the interloper strode on by, hoping to generate enough noise to warrant their attention. Feeling that wasn't quite enough, Methuzal began to call out to them. "Who̧ev̢e̡r i͏s̕ th͞er̕e̶, o͝p͝e͢n t͜h̨is t̨o̴mb.͡ ̨Ím̀mediat̛el͡y͜." His voice was guttural and arcane. Generated from the Force and warped by the worms that comprised his form. Were a Jedi or some other pious creature to hear it, they would likely be brought to tears. If blasphemy had a distinct sound, it would be Methuzal.

That request may have been too demanding, but he didn't care. Methuzal wanted out of this place. Besides, dark siders were supposed to appreciate that kind of directness, weren't they? Perhaps Methuzal had sealed his fate with that spoken sentence, but a quick death would still be better than being forever confined to this accursed tomb.