Mustafar
Tag: (Open for interaction)
A young man strode through the collapsing ruins of the lava world. Inside the ruins, centuries-old protective architecture patched up occasionally every decade or so kept out most of the heat and noise from the lava outside. Along the darkened, barely lit hallways, non-descript rubble was scattered into piles; cabling, concrete, metal sheets and scaffolding. Forming heaps of no description and shapes of no pattern.
The young man's thoughts were much the same, scattered and reaching in a hundred directions. Silently, his retainer followed close behind, never breaking stride but always keeping a constant distance from him.
Why was he here?
The artifacts. The artifacts are here. There's got to be more.
The Force had led him to a trinket in the bowels of another run-down mining facility. A Blackguard Lightsaber, almost pummeled into a flat plate, yet still emanating the power of the Force. Even better was an intact mask of sorts. He did not recognise it, but its presence boded well for the presence of other artifacts on this world, including one that was his by right.
The droning rush of sublight engines broke his reverie. Across the lava chasm from the ruin he was in, a working landing platform played host to the other Sith that arrived after him.
"Lord Anthysius. We should meet the others."
The others. Other Sith. Other high-ranking Sith of the Empire that had taken as much as it had given to Anthysius. He sighed aloud. The Artifacts, if any remained, were his real goal here. The Sith Empire was, for better or worse, a dead end. As a political entity, it had been eclipsed and ignored for years. As a cultural beacon, the Maw was doing more to spread the Bogan. Of course, they too were beginning to meet their own resistance.
The frustration boiled over and Anthysius closed his eyes, controlling his rage and directing it at thoughts of his enemies, his real enemies: the other nobles of the Empire. Safely ensconsed in the Galactic north, not a single one lifted a finger to assist his family (not even the brood of Calimondras). They had been content to sit and wait and feast on the remains of his family's holdings. Of course, he probably would have done the same had their situation been reversed.
He opened his eyes and gestured back the way they came.
"Lead the way, Argus."
They began the trek back to the platform. With luck, he might run into some of them without having to run into all of them at once.