Descent: a dark force pilgrimage

[Luyioth Dakwin]

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The ship shook violently about all directions as it pierced its way through the planet's volatile atmosphere. Even now, after so many years after the calamity, it's still plagued with its effects: the winds are unpredictable and bitter; what remains of the wildlife is menacing and hostile; and even for non-force users, spared from the drama from millennia of war, can very blatantly feel that this planet is not a place that should exist. If it weren't for the active efforts of the force users aboard the vessel, the voices nibbling at the corners of their minds would surely be screaming, to rip at their sanity given the chance. Surely only a fool had business here: in the wastelands of Nathema, deep within the Silver Jedi Order's territory of protectorates, where Vitiate made himself immortal at the expense of the rest of the planet's life.

It was no easy task making it this far: managing to move so deep within Silver Jedi territory cost the pilgrims many meetings, favors, and sleepless nights, calling upon the aid of Imperial Intelligence, Sith Intelligence, and the underworld alike. Locating where Vitiate's Sanitarium once stood was another challenge yet again, almost costing them their cover were it not for some tactful hyperspace jumps. Yet, despite their trials, the worst was yet to come: even the surface of Nathema rejected both life and the force itself, need not mention the depths where Vitiate's archives would seem to be.

Luyioth Dakwin

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Aboard the smuggler's ship, Nathema, Nathema Sector, the Outer Rim Territories.​

---

The mask over her face made Luyioth feel a little claustrophobic - something she might have paid a little more attention to if she wasn't focused on warding off Nathema's hostility. With what attention she could spare, she cast a glance to her right, where she looked to the pair of oxygen tanks mounted to a backpack leaning against her leg. All of their planning - a collaborative effort between the Sith Empire, the Imperial Inquisition, and independent elements - had come to this. To say it was do-or-die was a bit of an understatement: Nathema will take any and every chance to kill any trespassers on her soil, all for some archives that might not even continue to exist. Yet, if they do, and the crew made it that far, the rewards would be endless: the teachings of one of the few Sith to make himself immortal, and all of the skills and rituals that he learned during his extensive lifetime.

Lifting her head, Luyioth looked across to the others. She made her way across the hold, looking to meet eyes with each one through her inexpressive, mannequin-esque helmet and offer each an affirmative nod; to check if they were all ready. Needless to say, they didn't have a choice now that they were in Nathema's atmosphere, so the gesture would have to do.

 

[Lemon]

Koda Fett​

​

Nathema​

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Nathema was a wasteland, devoid of life and barren in it's landscape. Fortunately, Fett was no force user, if he were then this may prove to be more difficult than previously anticipated, but still, the voices clawed at the back of his mind only to be knocked backwards by his iron will. He was a Bounty Hunter, what reason did he have to be on this expedition? Credits and Reputation. They mattered most to the infamous Koda Fett, this job paid well and word of such a thing would only further send his status into the category of legendary. Or so he planned.

It was a shock when Luyioth Dakwin approached him about this job, paying him to keep his mouth shut on top of his already high fee the Empire was a whole was used to paying. Though here he was, in the belly of the beast, ready to raid the tomb of one of the most powerful Sith Lords with no protection against it. Was it a mistake? Was it foolish? Did credits blind him? Perhaps, but that didn't matter, it was already too late to turn back now.

He sat in a seat with his carbine in his lap, the T-Shaped visor the members of this 'party' would be accustomed to by now had glanced to and fro every now and again. He took a quick peek outside the viewport and it was exactly as it was described: dead. Though it snapped back upon hearing the footsteps approaching him, and after receiving the nod he stood - ready for anything that came next, waiting for this ship to land and the doors to open. Whatever lay inside Vitiate's palace, temple or whatever it may be, was not something one should trifle with.

 

[Jotham Noktis]

Rear Admiral Jotham Noktis​

​

Atmosphere of Nathema​

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It might’ve been safe to say Rear Admiral Noktis had a major hand in arranging the group’s travel to Nathema.

It was a simple query through the Imperial Naval Personnel databases to allocate a lieutenant with a former smuggling background, and of course, informing the lieutenant that Imperial Naval Command had a special assignment for him. They clarified the special assignment to the lieutenant that he would be posing as a smuggler to infiltrate and transport a Sith initiate and hired Imperial Bounty Hunters to the planet of Nathema that fell under the technical jurisdiction of the Silver Jedi Order. To a marginally haughty extent, Noktis considered any Imperial soldier better than smuggler scum - although, he saw no moral fault for a soldier to pose as one. Even still, he wasn't going to let his personal ethics and principles get in the way of completing a mission. He was a cold man, and through his calmness of character, occasionally lacked common virtues such as compassion and mercy out of an eerie deep mental habit, especially when it came to accomplishing his goals and strategies.

Accompanied with a small retinue of Deathtroopers, Noktis had brought himself along with this mission to personally oversee its success. He was not afraid of the fables of a lost planet to the Sith and Dark Jedi. Although, he could still sense the disturbances in the force like any other. A low-key barbaric white noise reverberated in the echelons of his amygdala. However, the undeterred Rear Admiral was nevertheless more determined to see the mission’s success.

He stood behind the curtain of the imposter-smuggler pilot. He wore his signature long cloak and uniform for the matter; he brandished a customized DT-29 Heavy Blaster Pistol, it was a non-regulation weapon. Although preoccupied with the matter of the lieutenant’s flight pathing, the corner of his eye caught the sight of the inquisitor initiate checking over the rest of the crew. In return, he offered a slow, solemn nod to the inquisitor initiate, as the reminded his gaze back to the pilot’s flight course.

The vessel continued to descend through the atmosphere.

 

[Vestille Thumahra]

Nathema
851 ABY
DT-2417
Call-sign Pestilence Actual
Post One
Objective: VIP escort & security

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The planet of operations was as dark and hollow as the Death Troopers' appearance. Pestilence would feel right at home on this operation.

Nathema, a dead husk of a planet, home to Vitiate's Sanitarium, a place where limitless knowledge from times of old. To some, this might not have been quite so interesting, to the Sith however, the mere thought of obtaining the secrets of perhaps one of the most powerful Emperors in history was no small ambition, nor was it a small feat to accomplish. Assets had to be drawn in from all over in order to make this ambition a reality and even then, that was the easy part. The real beast lay upon the planet itself.

Pestilence had boarded the shuttle, the two squads evenly split between the Rear Admiral and the Inquisitorius Initiate. The Captain chose to stay with the Initiate, knowing that the Rear Admiral would no doubt be able to handle himself with his own attachment of Pestilence; Nathema was a strange planet, a dead planet, the sort that would sent someone mad just by staying there for too long. DT-2417 wasn't an expert on the force, it wasn't his job to know too much about such things, however it made common sense that being force sensitive upon a world ravaged by the dark side of the force would not bode well. Should the Initiate succumb to whatever force held its presence upon the tomb world, DT-2417 would not hesitate to take action. As a matter of fact, he would do the same for any member of Pestilence or anyone else should such things befall them and expected the same if it were to happen to him. This was not the time nor the mission for morality or ethics; unless the Sith had any idea on how to save someone when they began their fall, there was no hope for them.

The shuttle rocked back and fourth as it continued its descent through the atmosphere, the 13 Death Troopers sitting still beyond adjusting to the rocking of the shuttle, each ready to dismount and begin their duty. This planet was merciless, ruthless. It's haunted call starting to try and worm its way into the minds of all that went on this forsaken expedition, targeting each without remorse. It was ready to kill to defend its home.

So was Pestilence ready, ready to kill to reach their prize. No matter the cost.

[member="Jotham Noktis"] | [member="Koda Fett"] | [member="Luyioth Dakwin"]

 

[Luyioth Dakwin]

Luyioth Dakwin

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Aboard the smuggler's ship, Nathema, Nathema Sector, the Outer Rim Territories.​

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Moving her gaze from one side of the ship to the other, Luyioth met eyes with each member of the would-be party. The bounty hunter didn't require a return - he'd been paid, so that was a nod enough; the same went for the trooper captain, who was always ready. The real interaction came with the admiral: Jotham Noktis. She hadn't expected the admiral to come with them, yet here we was. Not that it wasn't welcome, not at all: a pair of analytical eyes would break up the muscle dominating the team.

"Three minutes to landing..." began the pilot, almost wrestling with the ship's controls against the planet's inhospitable atmosphere, "...breaking through the stratopause in ten." It was almost as if he didn't notice the admiral looming over him: he was much too busy keeping the ship on course.

As the ship pressed through the stratopause, the turbulence began to ease. It was only gradual at first, the shaking becoming slightly less violent, before eventually - as the ship pressed underneath through the maelstrom that was the sky - it seemed to all but vanish. It could almost be described as the eye of the storm: hundreds of tornadoes consuming the sky, yet everything underneath it was almost serene. Desert dunes and mountains dominated the landscape, with even the ruins having long since turned to dust.

Rising from her seat, Luyioth took her backpack and hefted it onto her back. A few acute movements connected the oxygen tanks to her armor, ensuring she would have a longer supply if the underground proved to inhospitable. Reaching over to her left, she took a more distinct object in hand: a vibrosword in a scabbard, a far cry from the lightsaber hanging on her hip. Both the force and lightsabers are weak on the planet, almost eliminating both as options; yet even with an alternative, she would be hard pressed while warding off the horrors of Nathema from her crew. She knew what her role would be: supporting others in keeping them sane, with some help from battle meditation when she can help it.

With a few slow steps, Luyioth moved to face the door. Now that the turbulence had eased, she could move into position. As the ship descended towards the surface, she waited, and as the landing gear pressed out from the bottom and pressed into the sand with a small cloud around it, she pressed open the door and dropped down into the sand. In the distance, an unwelcoming gurgled how boomed across the landscape; yet, somewhere under the sand and dust beneath them was meant to be the sanitorium - need not mention the archives beneath that again.

Some ways away from the ship, the sand on the ground almost seemed to want to fall through, barely held up.

"Clear enough. Find the entrance, it should be within 100 meters of the landing site." Luyioth ordered, as she began her way forward.

 

[Lemon]

Koda Fett​

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Nathema​

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The Bounty Hunter found himself standing behind the Inquisitor as they lined up to take the steps off of the shuttle and onto the desolate wasteland that was Nathema, entirely clad in his Mandalorian armor with all his assorted weaponry. Perhaps no physical enemies would be present, and instead entirely those linked through the force. It isn't like that mattered to him, he'd be a fool to go anywhere without a weapon in his hands. The shuttle ramp lowers, embedding itself into the sand, followed by the marching outwards. Cautious eyes underneath the T-Shaped visor glanced about, watching and waiting for anything.

"Clear enough. Find the entrance, it should be within one hundred meters of the landing site."

The words from the Inquisitor were picked up by the infamous Fett, and with them he acted. It must be underground, and if it's within one hundred meters it's going to be visible enough. Mandalorian armor was a fine piece of technology, especially the helmet - switching his vision to view thermal signatures - he scanned the area with his eyes, shifting from one side to another until he picked something up. Ahead of him was a portion of sand that's signature was colder than everywhere else he scanned, taking steps towards it, the man found himself right before the signature - looking down at the sand.

Spotting the abnormality in the sand that seemed to want to fall down, he winked from the inside of his helmet, switching onto the communications portion and speaking, "I've got it." His Concordian Accent echoed through the comms, winking once more to disable comms. Peering over his shoulder, he shot a look to the Inquisitor, hoping to lock visors before turning back to the sand.

Koda squatted down, pulling his carbine closer to his body, just above his knees whilst his left hand went free. With it he extended outwards, prodding at the sand with his index finger. Though with no effect, he reached to the rock that rest in the sand just next to him, tossing it in the center in hopes to achieve some kind of result, whatever it may be.

 

[Jotham Noktis]

Rear Admiral Jotham Noktis​

​

Nathema​

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As the ramp descended down onto the desert floor below, hydraulic-exhaust dissipated from the exhaust ports of the shuttle From beyond the exhaust, appeared the melancholic Rear Admiral, Jotham Noktis, with a retinue of fearsome Deathtroopers, walking both calmly and slowly down the ramp, dressed in his armorweave cloak and armorweave Imperial naval uniform. Analytically and determinably staring out towards the dunes, he reached down towards his belt, where he withdrew his DE-29 Heavy Blaster Pistol; he held it at an upward angle under a calculated guise demeanor and demeanor with a single hand. Simultaneously, he had placed a Roamer-6 Breath Mask over his face whilst on board the shuttle, just before leaving it, presumably so, to compensate for the dead planet's potentially hostile atmosphere. As the initiate shouted, the Admiral's eyes darted to the left to catch the slimline figure speaking. He squinted in her direction, as he attentively listened.

"Good.", he dryly thought to himself, as the initiate finished speaking. He had taken note of the inquisitor's initiative. It meant he wouldn't have to babysit, and with that out of the way, it was time to see if a venture of this magnitude was worth the resources that were being used for it. As a scientific man, he was secretly skeptical of force-using organizations and the force as a whole; he was inclined to deviate from the norm of thought, and to examine the science of life as he knew it. He did not doubt it's existence or the existence of midi-chlorians for a second, but he certainly doubted the common perception of the force with it being strictly relative to a meter leading between 'the 'light', 'the grey', and the 'darkside'. He had his own hypothesis for that matter.

Noktis turned behind himself, as he saw the shuttle ramp behind him beginning to close. From the ramp, Noktis was see to spot the cockpit and the lieutenant-smuggler looking at them as the ramp ascended. He stood up, and saluted him as he disappeared from sight. Being somewhat overbearing, he eyeballed the lieutenant-smuggler with a stern, grim look aboard his features, he saluted him firmly in return, and did so until he had disappeared from beyond the closure of the ramp. He turned back around. The Rear Admiral then elegantly lifted his up arm and motioned the squad to form a 360-circumference perimeter around the landing zone. Mind you, the proficiently-trained Deathtroopers were already in 360-formation around the shuttle, however, the Admiral pushed them outward from the center of the landing zone to cover more visible ground. The Rear Admiral wasn't about to compromise a well-designed Imperial operation based on a lack of situational awareness that should be a consistent reminder in a desolate and dark place such as this.

 

[Luyioth Dakwin]

Luyioth Dakwin

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Aboard the smuggler's ship, Nathema, Nathema Sector, the Outer Rim Territories.​

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"I've got it."
Turning her head, Luyioth turned to meet visors with the bounty hunter. With urgency, she strode her way over, moving to pull up alongside him.

Beneath the sand, Koda would find a decrepit old structure: seemingly a structure in and of itself, originally sat above ground but since having been buried by the sand. Sand trickles through the depths of the dip at a few grains an hour, betraying an entrance to the inside of the old structure through it's roof. There would be no signs of life inside.

Around the group, a shrill howl breached the air, much closer than before. Two more joined it shortly after. The death troopers, no doubt attentive and alert, would quickly find the source: a trio of shelled monsters, with twitching antennae and forward-sat faces, that stand multitudes higher and wider than any man. The well-read might recognize them as voreclaw's: an apex predator and almost sole survivor of Nathema's unforgiving environment, a bit of an enigma as far as biology is concerned. The leading voreclaw's single row of teeth twitched in anticipation, as it's clawed fingers tensed and cocked by it's side. It wasted no time leading it's hunting pack in a charge: still some few-hundred meters away, but moving to close the open distance now it was without concealment as fast as it's legs could.

Turning to face the oncoming Voreclaws, Luyioth spoke to the hunter beside her, her voice crackling through their communications:
"We need to get through. Do what you must. I'm limited in my fighting capabilities - I'm very focused on holding back the force corruption." As she spoke, she reached to her vibroblade, drawing it regardless of her warning.

 

[Vestille Thumahra]

Nathema
851 ABY
DT-2417
Call-sign Pestilence Actual
Post One
Objective: VIP escort & security

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The shrill howl of the native 'wildlife' certainly caught the attention of the Death Troopers in tow behind the Rear Admiral and the Inquisitor. As the Voreclaws made themselves known and began to descend upon the party, the garbled transmissions of the Death Troopers were made in quick barks coming from DT-2417. Despite knowing little on what the creatures were, their intent alone required immediate action and Pestilence was not one to sit around idly when threats come their way with hostile intent. Whilst most of their targets were typically sentient being in the form of terrorists, rebels or whatever else dared defy the Empire, beasts wouldn't be a problem. At least, that was what DT-2417 had thought, though most natural beasts didn't stand upright on two legs and look like they were made out of rock. With this being the planet that an Emperor of ages past built his Sanitarium, anything was possible at this point. With such a wide field of parameters, Pestilence wasn't about to leave things to chance.

Setting up in a firing line though spread out to allow flexibility should the creatures get near and the need to evade an incoming blow was needed, Pestilence took aim and began focusing fire on one target at a time, the idea to bring a majority of the pack down before it got into the range of the Inquisitor or Rear Admiral. Their safety was paramount and with this being the primary objective, the Death Troopers kept this at the top of their list of priorities. Should their deaths be required to that end, then so be it.

Ironic, in a sense, that their grave could be on a world as dead and devoid of life as a tomb.

[member="Luyioth Dakwin"] | [member="Jotham Noktis"] | [member="Koda Fett"]

 

[Lemon]

The Bounty Hunter was able to hear the shrill-screeching of the cumbersome Voreclaw, turning to meet it and truly realise how impossible to kill it very well may be, and that if he attempted to fight such a thing he may be killed in return, though he did not fear it, simply acknowledge it. Turning to face the sand ahead of him, Fett brought his right foot out and forcibly began stomping on it to the point in which it collapsed all ahead of him. Leaving little to the imagination as to what is actually down there as everything became more apparent, ultimately leaving it for him to leap down into it.

The sand almost buried him, but enough had caved in so that he was free from all that nonsense. A Voreclaw could not fit in here, and the way further into this dangerous complex had been discovered. It wasn't a cowardly act, those beasts would put up far more of a challenge than he had bothered to put up for, surely if Pestilence remained, they would suffer a casualty or two. As for their lives? Fett couldn't care less.

[member="DT-2417"] | [member="Luyioth Dakwin"] | [member="Jotham Noktis"]