Private Whistling Sands

[Wilrin Maltris]

POV: Darth Morn

Spoiler

A steamy hiss escaped from the shuttle as the ramp dispensed from the Sith shuttle. As slow as a prowling cat the Sith Duro stepped out of the shuttle. It was Darth Morn’s first time to land on Veroleem. The planet was fairly remote, just a little reach out of The Sith Empire’s territory into the Unknown Regions, narrowly escaping from The Empire’s grasp.

Finally.

The search for this planet for years. His obsessions going as far as him leaving The Sith Empire to pursue this possible lead of immortality. Morn had gone to every extreme for his ambition. Force alchemy, unorthodox injections, cybernetic enhancements, whatever he could get his hands on. As a result he was more machine than man now. The negative effects of his experiments taking a toll on his body. His voice wasn’t even his own anymore, he relied on systems in his helmet, altering his voice and speaking for him.

He had grown too weak. Veroleem was his last hope, not just for immortality, but for life. The planet was largely dominated by a cult who manufactured the kryotin powder to keep their members subservient to the cults' high priests. The cult was a sham, a trap to lure in victims to be sacrificed and their brain chemicals used in the elixir that if taken regularly prevents aging, keeping Veroleem's oldest residents alive.

Darth Morn ignited his crimson saber, all that was before him was desert sand and ruin. After a moment to take it all in he continued forward. Morn was going to discover their secrets and use them for himself.

No matter the cost.

 

[Wilrin Maltris]

POV: Wilrin​

A mild sandstorm seemed to be enveloping the city of New Promise above the mining facility Wilrin was in. Kyrotin was one of the most valued resources for the Council of The Enlightened Elders. Mining was a regular task they would assign the drugged slaves. Even now, Wilrin could feel the effect they were having on his state of mind.

The methods were used to keep the underlings in line and take away their will. For whatever reason however, the narcotics seemed to affect Wilrin differently. Seeing the coast was clear he turned to check on his sister, she wasn’t so fortunate to have the same resistance. She mined mindlessly, bringing a pain to Wilrin’s chest. He hadn’t seen his sister normal for years, she was constantly in a state of submission.

Wilrin took a heavy sigh, and a different feeling took over him. His sister and surroundings faded away from his vision as he witnessed flashes of light. He was standing in an unending void. Similar to space, these were both things he had never experienced before.

Ash appeared from nothing, twirling before him, it somehow transformed into visuals. He could clearly see a strange, evil looking mask. It was unlike anything Wilrin had seen. But then the image changed to his sister, dead, or at least incapacitated. He gasped and the image changed one more time to a strange planet mainly inhabited by space stations.

Bewildered he took a step back, tripping on himself. The ash grew, seemingly coming from nowhere until it filled the entire void. A loud roar of wind came and suddenly his reality was back. The ash turned to sand. The sandstorm had grown, pelting his exposed skin. Quickly he rushed forward and tackled his sister, shielding her and covering himself since she couldn’t act herself.

He had many questions, but he would worry about them later.

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

Wilrin Maltris​

New Promise, Veroleem. When the sand storm had started, Scherezade had covered her face with her armor's facial mesh layer, keeping the ickies outside of her lungs. It was… Strange. She had come here because Agents of Chaos had been tipped off about something from the planet's mines, and she'd had the time to go check it out, but once there… Things had felt somewhat off to the Sithling.

Not really having a strategy or plan in place, she'd figured she'd just go the mines. It was on her ride over there that things had taken a turn for the worse, with all the sand stormy stuff. Her driver spoke a few grunts that she didn't catch on time, and the next thing she knew, he was screaming bloody murder and swinging in zag-zags, claiming they were trying to catch him. Scherezade had given him the benefit of the doubt and turned around to take a look, but there was nothing behind them other than the swirls of sand, not even another vehicle in Sight.

With a sigh, the Sithling smashed the back of the driver's heads with one of her sword's pommels, and held on tight as the speeder finally crashed sideways into a mountain wall. Whether the driver was okay or not wasn't really her concern. What was her concern, was that she was standing at the bottom of the road that led into the mountains.

Might as well, she shrugged, and stepped on the path.

 

[Wilrin Maltris]

POV: Darth Morn​

The Sith lifted the cowering cultist with one hand, applying pressure to his frail neck. Heaps of bodies lay throughout the village he had just pillaged. If there was a secret to immortality he wouldn’t find it here. The cultist was clearly under the influence of something. With a sigh, Darth Morn decided he too was useless, and snapped his neck.

It didn’t make sense. This was one of the largest villages that were visible from the atmosphere yet there was no sign of this “higher council.”

The Duro closed his eyes, reaching out with the force. The trail had run cold, but the force would guide him. He sensed a chilling allure coming from the mountains.

Deciding none of these corpses would be in need of their swoop bikes any longer, Morn took off, he would need to be quick.

 

[Wilrin Maltris]

POV: Wilrin​

Wilrin eventually managed to stand, his flesh having been flayed from the sand. His sister seemed to be alright apart from being almost completely subdued from the drugs.

He glanced around at the other miners, some had been killed from falling rubble from the cliff side, some had been seriously injured, yet they still continued working. The slavers were nowhere to be seen, most likely hiding in their light bunkers built inside the mountain.

Taking this an opportunity he slid back onto the ground, resting a moment to recover from his wounds. His sister once again got up to continue mining without a mind of her own.

At least she’s safe. He closed his eyes to rest, when all of a sudden he heard the sound of a faint collision echoing throughout the valley. Immediately Wilrin was back on his feet, and in good timing too. Higher members of the cult ran past him in the direction of the commotion.

Scherezade deWinter

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

Wilrin Maltris​

For a few moments, Scherezade was having a pleasant stroll across the side of the mountain, following the path that hopefully would lead her to the mines within a short amount of time. The weather was nice, she supposed, though she sort of wanted to go home and play another raid on Alcohol Massacre.

Her senses alerted her to the danger before it became visible. Sighing, the Blood Hound just stood there, waiting for the warm blooded goons to show up. There were always warm blooded goons.

Soon as they showed up tough, she grinned beneath her face covering mesh.

Without a word, she raised her hands. Unless the goons had a way to block her, she would yank the blood out of their bodies. The blood would exit through everyhole - from spin pores, to eyes and ears and mouth and nose, to newly holes created by the pressure of at least five liters of blood trying to exit the body through every means possible.