A Cathedral of Ruin [A Companion Esk Treasure Hunt]

[Laith Varad*]

What worlds lie out their beyond our own? What galaxies neighbor ours? Companion Esk is one such galaxy, adjacent to our own but existing separately with only a few dangerous hyperlanes that lead to it. A signal, a beacon has recently been activated in Companion Esk with a frequency bolstered by unknown power and carried back to our galaxy...

The World was designated NE-3. A frozen world uninhabited by intelligent life. The wasteland of ice is roamed by elephant sized, fur covered predators. Until recently there was little else significant about it. Until now most explorers had little reason to take a second look at it...

It came crashing down from the heavens like a meteor. A Cathedral Ship. A reminder of bygone times when the Republic stood for evil not good. Lighting up the sky with fire as it fell from the heavens the explosion it created rocked the landscape for miles around leaving a fiery wreckage in the wake of its impact. The Cathedral Ship was a ruin, twisted steel and salvage awaiting anyone who discovered it and brave enough to explore it. Its ruin had awakened something long thought sealed away though...

Dark side spirits awakened by the crash howled in their eternal suffrage, activating a sole beacon that remained on the ship and hoping to draw adventurers to their icy tomb and maybe, just maybe escape with them...

-----​

The Cathedral Ship is a bastion for the dark side but it contains rewards from an era long forgotten by the passage of time. It has drifted through space for millennia, alone but not without passengers of its own and treasures to match...

The Bridge is located at the top of the Cathedral Ship. Unlike much of the ship the crush did not do significant damage to this area of the vessel. A corpse is readily in sight splayed across the floor of the bridge, it is wearing a set of Jal Shey Mentor Armor. A Lightsaber is also among the debris on the bridge, it contains an Opila Crystal.

Main Tactical is located near the bottom of the ship, most of this area was destroyed in the crash making it hard to navigate. Those intrepid explorers who do squeeze their way through the wreckage can eventually find the corpses of several long dead Jedi and the archaic lightsabers they possessed. Damind, Ruusan and Rol Stone crystals can all be found here.

The Detention Cells are located near the Bow of the Ship. Dark Side spirits are active here feeding on the pain and suffering those imprisoned endured in life. A Force Imbued Blade can be found here, the former possession of the warden of these cells. A pair of Jel Shay perception gloves are also located here.

The Commanders Chambers lie at the fore of the Cathedral Ship. Somehow it survived much of the collision and ensuing wreckage. This area is steeped in the dark side. Among the items still present are an archaic lightfoil. The real treasure is a map of the hyperlanes the ship has seen during its millennia long journey, some of which may be unknown to modern spacers.

The Vault. An enormous chamber at the core of the ship that the occupants of the Cathedral Ship had used to store the various artifacts taken during their religious crusade. A massive durasteel door lies at the end of a long and dimly lit corridor, sealed shut and closed since the ship disappeared on its derelict voyage. A store house of knowledge exists here chronicling what was known at the time. Texts describing instruction in otherwise rare applications of the force would not be out of the question. A Heritage Tapestry can be found here depicting a great crusade by the religious order of the time in which they were victorious over their enemies, strange insect looking creatures. A copy of the History of the Jedi as it was written up to this point and inked with a clearly bias view of the order at this time is also amongst the valuables present.

Other areas in the Cathedral Ship are heavily damaged. Engineering was destroyed on impact and anything that remains is damaged beyond repair. Medical likewise suffered heavy damage. Use your imagination as to anything else keeping in mind that numerous breaches exist in the ship and the harsh cold of the environment has seeped into many of these. Naturally the predators of NE-3 may have also found their way inside.

-----​

OOC: After speaking with [member="Jorus Merrill"] he encouraged me to try hosting my own treasure hunt and gave me permission to use Companion Esk as a location for it. I thought, too, that it might be nice for him to finally be able to participate in a treasure hunt seeing as how he hosts so many of them for the rest of us.

Like Jorus I have no intention of participating in this Treasure Hunt and I hope people enjoy it. Use Wheatons Law and as a rule of thumb remember that due to the dangerous hyperlanes leading to Companion Esk nothing larger than a transport has much chance of making it through without being ripped apart. Happy Hunting!

 

[Ashin Varanin]

A Santhe Challenger gleamed inside and out, to the point where -- in a bright system, or when landing on a brilliant white world -- Shambleau was known to wear shades while at the helm. The sportscraft touched down on the broken snow, in a flat-bottomed old crevasse not far from the crash site. That ought to keep the Challenger out of sight while Shambleau ran this salvage/research op for Theed Hangar.

The distance from the Challenger to the crashed cathedral ship wasn't long, but she didn't feel like trusting the overcast sky to stay as it was. Conscious of her vulnerability to natural-spectrum light, she pulled on a full-face cold-weather mask and put up her broad hood, then selected gloves. With the glasses, that ought to be enough for conditions like this.

The Mikan descended from the Challenger and began crossing the broken snowscape to the jagged old capital ship. Her Force presence, she kept muted, and had since she arrived in system. If she had one talent, it was that. Besides, in the end there wasn't much to hide. She was an instrument, not a mastermind.

 

[Matthew(Rogue)Drevur]

The Emeralde Luna jumps out of hyperspace, like a giant green smoking gun in the middle of a murder scene, mostly because it was on fire. "GAH! I knew it would be a hard trip, but the hyperdrive system is broken, again. C7 get to work on fixing it as we land." C7 replies in a series of aggravated beeps, I ignore him as I land near the crashed vessel, "Poor lost souls that couldn't find their way home, sucks for them, but not for me!" I say as I check my gear, saber, check, A.E.M.R., check, bag for my loot, double check. Luckily the icy wind put out the fires on the Luna, but as for the hyperdrive, its going to take a few hours. "C7, watch the ship, remember the extra pair of E-11s that I left, use them if you need too." I walk out of the ship, I can feel it, the Dark Side is strong here. I walk towards the wreckage, hoping that at least I get something out of this...

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Matthew (Rogue) Drevur"]

Even with the sunglasses, Shambleau shielded her eyes against the light as she looked up to the descending ship. Hairless eyebrows rose beneath her balaclava as she noted the damage he'd sustained, presumably in the jump from the mother galaxy. Companion Esk was no joke; the Theed paperwork had been a nightmare, despite her patron. She hurried to get behind a broken edge of the cathedral ship, and just in time. The freighter's rough descent sprayed snow just about everywhere. She was in no mood for a snowball fight.

Force presence still hidden, the Mikan peeked around the corner of the broken ship and took a look at the freighter. A faint plume of smoke rose from it, and out came a long-haired man, clearly making for the cathedral ship as well. Shambleau ducked back into cover and set about cutting through a likely piece of hull plating with one of her lightsabres. The sooner she was out of the wind and out of sight, the better. The only real risk was that, if he circled around the ship looking for an ingress route, he might see the glowing circle where she'd cut her way in.

Inside, the cathedral ship smelled like old death, and fear whispered in the back of her mind, strong enough that it might not be entirely natural. Using her crimson sabre as a glowrod, Shambleau descended into the crumpled vessel.

 

[Lina Ovmar]

The borrowed transport ship, clunked out of hyperspace, drawing a frown from Mia as her hands moved to counter the turbulence. She rechecked the coordinates Ember had given her and adjusted her course for the ice planet. A strange and almost unfamiliar excitement ran through her as she pondered what lie ahead. Once upon a time, this had been her life, following one lead to the next, treasure hunting in tombs and old ships alike. That was before the Old Sith Empire had come knocking on the Mandalorians front door, that war had changed everything for Mia.

The transport was in no way stealthy or quiet, the noise of its engines echoing off the ice as she lowered it carefully to the snow beneath, ears pricked for the gut wrenching twang of ice as it cracked. It groaned slightly under the weight of the ship but quieted quickly enough. Collecting herself she descended the ship and made for the wreckage, Shadow making circles in the snow around her as she did.

 

[Arage Bao]

Frost. Snow as far as the eye could see. He tentatively breathed out and almost immediately little stars of ice formed itself a few inches away from his face. The synth-fur of his thick jacket barely managed to keep his body temperature from dropping down to a freezing level, barely. As far as the Sith Acolyte could see there were no signs of civilization here... a lot of snow, yes, hills frozen with barely visible silhouette obscured by more white dust and thick ice, but nothing else besides the huge capital ship.

It dominated the fields and its vision was so enticing that Keshann had almost missed the familiar undertone of ships breaking the atmosphere. First the glide of a graceful little transport, followed by the less graceful whirring of a damaged starship.

For a moment the Sith kept looking, but the signs were clear. More people were coming.

The time of sightseeing had ended for now. Perhaps there would be more time later. Those climbed back up to his feet, suppressing a groan as his shoulder acted up. The cold wasn't doing him any favours - time to move before he would freeze in place.

 

[Darth Metus]

"Next time, we're taking an Espada."

The disgruntled voice of the Dar'manda was lost in the turbulence. A symphony of rattling metal and roaring engines was more than enough to drown out Isley's voice. His words were addressed to the one who had seen fit to borrow the vessel: [member="Mia Monroe"]. She was a literal blast from the past, a comrade from better and brighter days. She was there during Isley's first mission on Taris...and she was the liege who called him to fight over Mon Calamari. Suffice it to say, the Dar'manda was thrilled to be out in the field with an old friend. But damn, the ride was rough.

No matter.

They had come to a world covered in ice. Here, a crashed vessel was the target. Ember Rekali, a fellow Witch King, had seen the rapid descent of the ship. Apparently it contained enough value that an expedition was warranted. So, Isley moved out...and hitched a ride with the former Mandalore. Upon landing, Isley was more than happy to disembark and began trudging along behind his fellow Witchmaster.

[member="Mia Monroe"]

 

[Ashin Varanin]

HEADING FOR THE CENTER OF THE SHIP
IE, THE VAULT

If there were answers to be found, Shambleau expected to find them in the ship's heart. Either that or a metric fethton of radioactivity from a broken old reactor. She wore a standard radiation deflection badge by default, enough to at least give her a warning if things actually did get hot. So far, though, nothing. But her sense of foreboding grew to the point where she could differentiate it from simple panic or apprehension. Something did not want her here, despite her relatively benign purpose, and limited as her Force education was, she couldn't pin down all the possibilities. She knew that places could retain memories, auras -- she knew that Sith spirits were a thing -- and she might be sensing someone alive. She kept the Force signature as locked down as possible, and she had some talent in that. She hadn't been disturbed, probably as a result, which suggested that the unfriendly malevolence relied on Force senses to pin her down.

Even so, she walked quietly across the buckled, slanted decks, and kept her sabres off. Though she didn't have the wherewithal to hide from sight or sensors, she could at least make herself harder to notice. She took note of the ancient vessel's design principles, as much for survival as for research.

 

[Matthew(Rogue)Drevur]

I sprint towards the crashed vessel as several more ships land to claim the loot. I crawl into a small opening that led to the Main Tactical. I start to scavenge around, "Old, useless, is that a sandwich, eww." Suddenly I see it, the corpse of a dead Jedi. I walk toward it and pick up his, or was it a her? I couldn't tell, anyway it was a lightsaber. "I could use this, now what color is it." I say as I ignite the blade, revealing a bright crimson blade, burning just as brightly as it did when it was first forged a millennial ago. Now I start to venture deeper into the doomed craft...

[member="Lady Shambleau"] [member="Isley Verd"] [member="Thost Keshann"] [member="Mia Monroe"] [member="Ermac Laith"]

 

[Matthew(Rogue)Drevur]

(Also im wearing a mask, forgot to mention that....)

 

[Lina Ovmar]

Mia appeared oblivious to Isley's complaints as they pushed forwards to the ship's wreckage. There were enough holes in the hull that gaining access wasn't difficult. No longer bouncing around them, the hybrid pressed close to Mia's leg, ears flat against his head, teeth bared in a silent snarl. Mia could feel it too, feel the darkness that pulsed at the heart of the ship.

She cast a glance at Isley and point towards it. "You make the assumption that next time, i'll let you come." She patted Shadow's flank in reassurance. "We're going that way, unless you have a better idea?"

[member="Matthew (Rogue) Drevur"][member="Lady Shambleau"][member="Isley Verd"][member="Ermac Laith"]

 

[Darth Metus]

The Dar'manda shifted his gaze in the direction that Mia pointed. And, frankly, he could feel it before it came into his field of vision. There was a power here...a pronounced Darkness that waited in the heart of the ship. Well, at least that provided some instant direction. "I assume many things." he began. "For example, I assume that there is going to be some fight waiting for us ahead." Snark aside, Isley was not about to take whoever...or whatever...awaited them lightly.

A string of Paecian lyrics slithered forth from his lips and at once, the Force was upon them. It veiled their physical forms, rendering them as visible wisps, before Isley stepped forward. He hoped that he did not overstep any boundaries in cloaking them as thus, given the Dark Circumstances before them...but if there were objections, [member="Mia Monroe"] had bolters. And the Force. And Shadow.

Hoo boy.

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Location: Not This Again...
Target: Bridge

Julius wasn't exactly quiet, or stealthy really. Nor was he always particularly the best at approaching silently and covertly. There were many layers and sides to the Corellian, but subtlety was not included in among them typically. Regardless, he had been in the area, so to speak... If he were honest, he had gotten turned around trying to meet a contact about a smuggling run, and wound up somewhere he was entirely sure he was not supposed to be. But his gut had twinged, in that insistent way that said something was afoot. So, without a moments hesitation, he had decided to stride forth into the unknown, in a manner of speaking. Not that it was a terribly well done slide like a major sports athlete might have made in some daring maneuver in their prime.. It was rather a bit more jarring and uncomfortable.

Jostling, jerking, and shaking, the YT-2400 he piloted finally sat down in a series of skids, with obvious damage to it as engines sputtered, shuddered, and suddenly died. There was cursing loud enough from the inside to hear outside if one were close enough, and loud banging and clanging. Eventually the noise stopped, and the cargo ramp slid down with a hum and jerked as it stopped half-way. More cursing followed, and in a few moments a Silk-6 speeder in bright red shot out of the merrily painted blue ship known as the Turhaya, engines whining at full thrust as it sped at the Cathedral ship, a bright green cloak fluttering gallantly in the wash of acceleration. There was intent etched on the mildly armored forms' face, what could be seen of it through a heavy wool wrap and speeder pilot goggles.

Just what do we have here, eh?

Spoiler

[member="Ermac Laith"] | [member="Isley Verd"] | [member="Mia Monroe"] | [member="Matthew (Rogue) Drevur"] | [member="Lady Shambleau"]

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Mia Monroe"][member="Isley Verd"] [member="Ermac Laith"]

This had to be the source of the power she felt: a thick vault door, set on a buckled deck. She wasted no time in drawing her lightsabres and driving them into the hinges. Ancient, pitted metal softened and sloughed away. She worked the sabres up and down, sawing at the tough material. Turadium, maybe, and she was lucky it wasn't something exotic. As she cut, she stayed aware, using the Force to watch her own back. Ghosts or other raiders - either way, she was glad the shredded hull offered so many possible escape routes. Her first course, if surprised, might be down through that jagged gap on her left.

The glare of molten metal made her sweat beneath the balaclava, but speed demanded both sabres and both hands. She cut as quickly as possible. The vault door shifted in its frame.

It seemed bizarre, incongruous, to chop into this ancient vessel. In theory, she was here for archaeological purposes, if business-oriented.

 

[Matthew(Rogue)Drevur]

I continue my trek through the vessel, eventually making it towards the bridge, I survey my surroundings through the ships large viewport, "Several more have arrived, wait, who is cursing? No matter." I say walking toward a terminal. I try to activate it to no avail, "Wonder if the sandwich is still good, I'm a little hungry..."

OOC: I am typing on my phone, the struggle is real.
[member="Lady Shambleau"] [member="Julius Sedaire"][member="Isley Verd"][member="Mia Monroe"][member="Thost Keshann"][member="Ermac Laith"]

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Isley Verd"][member="Mia Monroe"][member="Ermac Laith"]

Shambleau's blades shifted from the hinges to the latch. Under the weight of the door, stressed metal snapped with an ear-splitting peal. She deactivated her sabres, plunging the vault chamber into darkness. Cloaked in shadow, she altered form to bring her full strength to bear. Metal groaned as merciless tentacles wrenched the door from its mount. She sidled and let it fall, drawing back her lower extremities. A clang redounded, stunningly loud; it would have been heard. And she could feel others drawing near.

Her sabres hissed to life again, held by tentacles that had been hands, and carved away the faces of lockboxes. This close, she could feel a number of disturbances, of artifacts. Ghosts yammered in what passed for an ear. Lit only by sabres and molten metal, Shambleau scrabbled in the broken lockboxes. She knew she would have to settle for only a portion of what was here, or face pursuit. She would probably face pursuit regardless, but what humanoid could match her speed through the torn and jumbled mess of decks and beams, stretching down into the deepest and most compacted layers?

She stuffed a couple of scroll-cases in her bag and, bad-feeling-about-this at maximum strength, dove through the nearest gap in the deck. Her sabres deactivated, leaving her with the senses of an apex predator and a civilized adult's desire to get out of Dodge. The scrolls should serve to date and authenticate the wreck.

 

[Matthew(Rogue)Drevur]

I continue to scavenge, searching for items to sell on the black market for credits, "An antique slug rifle, could be usefull, yeish, is that some fancy armor he is he wearing, aint got much use for it though." I say as I step over the dead Jedi that layed before me. I finish rummaging through the items when suddenly i sensed other presences nearby, and they were certainly not human or alien. Right before my eyes a beast leaps out at me, I take the nearest weapon on me, the crimson blade of the saber I just recently stole sliced the beast, killing it in an instant. More jumped out at me, and all fell victim the the blades deadly bloodlust. "I am so using this later!"

OOC: still writing on my phone, the struggle is still real!
[member="Lady Shambleau"][member="Julius Sedaire"][member="Isley Verd"][member="Mia Monroe"][member="Thost Keshann"][member="Ermac Laith"]

EDITS: due to some complaints I have gotten rid of some stuff so others can scavenge and loot.

 

[Ashin Varanin]

The sense of foreboding bled away somewhat as Shambleau descended into the ship's lowest levels. She flowed through a ragged gap in a tentacular mass, and re-assumed her near-human form in the wreckage of what appeared to be Main Tactical. A fight had gone on here, a very long time ago, and -- she sniffed the air -- someone had been here recently. Yes, there, the marks of boots on a dusty floor. Someone had been and gone. One corpse was disturbed, and other marks suggested something had been picked up. Shambleau ignited her sabre for a better look, and found her feet tangling in dry bones and moth-eaten robes. A clank and a rattle perked her up somewhat, but sent a chill up her back. She crouched and morphed her off hand into its natural state. Tentacles wound around two very old lightsabres. Unwilling to test the integrity of their corroded power cells, but conscious that there might be lessons to learn from them, she tucked them into her belt beside the pouch that held the scroll-cases.

She found herself fidgeting, desiring to push her luck, but every instinct told her she needed to leave this ship as soon as possible. The half-crushed Main Tactical chamber had served as a decent fallback, where she could burrow in and take stock of the situation. Well, now stock was taken, so far as her gut could determine. Every sign pointed to multiple other treasure hunters. It was time to adjourn.

Main Tactical had other gaping holes; she made her way into one, shifting back into her tentacled form to better handle the quick and awkward three-dimensional transitions. Crumpled deck by crumpled deck, she made her way through the ship towards what might be the nearest exit.

[member="Ermac Laith"]

 

[Matthew(Rogue)Drevur]

Now with all these, let's just call me bear-dogs, why? Because they look like both. Anyways with all the bear-dogs dead he started to peek around more, and eventually felt a presence nearby, two to be exact. A small one, probably another bear-dog, and a large one. The large presence was very faint, and was definitely a force user due to if being very hidden. I decide to not push my luck and head for the bear-dog i felt, turns out it was a small bear dog, probably a pup. I walked past it as it cowered in fear, and I crawled into the hole that lead back out into the main tactical. I stop short when I got out, as I notice shuffling sounds and some objects moved and missing, "Who is there? Show yourself!"

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Matthew (Rogue) Drevur"]

Shambleau paused, suspending herself between buckled plating, as someone called out behind her. "Who's there? Show yourself!" Her predator's instincts suggested that the voice sounded like easy prey, but in a place like this, appearances deceived.

She hesitated, then continued on, accelerating up through the sandwiched layers of crash-impacted hull. Her clothes had fallen away, shredded by transformation and by her quick passage through ragged metal. That limited her options for after she reached the edge of the ship, and the outside. Only her sturdy bandolier belt, with its pouch carrying the two sabres and the two scrolls, remained to her.

One tentacle at a time, she eased past a final sawtoothed edge and looked out over the snowfield. The day was overcast enough that she could probably make it back to her Challenger without being petrified -- but without her parka and such, she might well freeze on her way. It wouldn't be comfortable, that was for sure. But there was nothing for it. With a mental grimace, she shifted back into humanoid form and cinched the broad belt low on her hips. A few rags remained of her clothing, enough to preserve modesty but little else. The old Jedi skill called tapas, the ability to control your own body temperature, was a common one among Ke'dem operatives, but she'd rarely put it to such a test. Nearly naked, she began to run along the snow.

[member="Ermac Laith"]