Extermination - Clearing the Catacombs

[Nisha Decrilla]

The winds that cut across korriban were picking up speed, pushing greats clouds of sands across vast open plains and carving into old statues with worn faces. It peppered against the stripped remains of the Academy, forcing all who were there into tents that had been erected in recent weeks to house workmen, acolytes and knights alike, for the great clear out of the catacombs beneath the ruins.

Anaya stood defiant against the incoming sandstorm, a force shield wrapping around her like a bubble. The sand made harmonious pings as it bounced away from her, but Anaya paid it little mind, her eyes fixed on the fading academy, watching with interest as it disappeared from view, clouded by the angry storm. She could almost hear the spirits of the dead screaming at her...and them both, for agreeing to strip what remained in their resting places and make it secure for the new Academy.

Dead men do not scare me.

She waited patiently for the storm to pass, for the winds to drop and for the activity in the camp to slowly restart. She lowered her protective bubble and moved towards the centre of camp where they were gathering. The hunting party, a mix of volunteers and those she'd decided had run out of time to pay their debts. The volunteers were mostly sith, young acolytes looking to prove themselves, knights looking to hone their skills or acquire resources.

She ignited one end of the saber staff to get the crowds attention, the snap hiss reverberating off the valley walls. Silence descended. "You're job is a simple one, clear out the catacombs. I don't care if you kill it or catch it. I want them emptied. Any relics are to be brought back to me for inspection, If they are of any real value, they will remain in the academy, if not, you can keep it. Try to hide it from me and I will kill you."

She let her last words hang in the air for a moment before smiling and waving them forward with her saber. "You may begin." She watched them move forward, the young bounding ahead with foolish eagerness. Tuk'ata, terentateks and force knows what else lurked in those tombs. whatever lived down their would be warped in the force, on top of beasts there was the possibility of un-triggered booby traps laid by ancient sith lords.

Rather them, than me.

She lazily picked up the rear.

Spoiler

This is a dev thread for the rebuilding of the Sith Academy. A decision to use the already existing catacombs under the ruins of the old temple means they need clearing out. Use your imagination. Catch it, kill it, find it. I don't mind, just have fun.

Sith unaffiliated with the Order are also welcome.

@Tirdarius

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Alaric stalked forward as the Sith Lady gave the command. Others bounded eagerly, running, tripping over themselves nearly. Thinking mayhap drive would catch attention. Alaric had lived a little over a century already. A baby, for the k'paur race, but wiser by far than most of the other Acolytes. Pulling up the neck scarf he wrapped it carefully around his face to a bare slit open around the eyes. Carefully then placed were goggles, and a fitted rebreather. The Force was a finite resource, and his command of it was not yet such that he could use it so well and blatantly as Anaya. The technology, though unfamiliar to him in many ways, would spare his control and resources.

Swathing himself in the dun colored cloak he had, he continued to move forward, head on a swivel. Arms were held loose at the sides, hands curled and ready to seize sword and draw. For the moment, his poisoned amber gaze was hidden behind the goggles, and he grinned ferally as others all piled the same entrance. A few traded drinks and meal with a workman crew had revealed an unused construction vent. There would descent be made. As he reached it, the Force seemed to swell around him and pull him. A cloying siren of the Dark Side, memories of former Lords and Acolytes and Knights and Ladies alike. This place remembered it's masters very well, and ached again. Millenia of being a hub for the Dark Side had altered the very soil of the place some might say.

Bending, he yanked aside a duracrete lid and gazed down. The drop would likely break the legs of anyone else. But his physiology and natural ability made that less of an issue. Adroitly the Sith bent legs and curled knees to chest as he hopped into the now open hole and plummeted straight down. Moments before impact he pulled the Force to him, using it's power and his command to slow his descent and push against the floor to cushion his fall. Legs uncurled with a kick and he landed in a cloud of ringed dust, swords flying from sheaths eagerly as the light from above glinted off his goggles and rebreather. But nothing stirred in this part of the tombs, and so with a flick of his hand he drug the heavy block back over the hole, plunging world into darkness.

Removing the goggles and rebreather, he shed his excess gear and wrapped them in the cloak, making a pack he tied tightly to his back, and forward again he went. The tunnel was shored up with wood and durasteel braces, and appeared stable. Crews had told him a rough route to what he was looking for - an ancient armory and ludus for types like him. Rumors were they had discovered the remains of a few ancient Sith who had chosen or been commanded to be interred in these grounds. His hope was they had left relics behind. Sith Swords, armor, maybe an amulet. It was impossible to tell what, but his current armor was insufficient as he progressed more against foe with lightsaber than blade.

Reveal your secrets to me and glory shall be brought by my name to yours...

[member="Anaya Fen"]

 

[H3xle]

"You may begin."

The words sent acolytes and other volunteers careening for the entrance to the catacombs. Some wore protection from the gales and grit of the planet, others appeared to try to draw the eye with their feats of endurance. So little did those acolytes think of the title of Sith that they assumed physical prowess, speed, or drive would gain them accolades and mastery.

If truth were to be told, Waide had likely been like that at one point. Eager to show his parents or his masters that he was ready for more. He was now serving under his second master, and both the previous and current preferred patience to ill thought out action. His previous master had been a sith lord named Acanthus, one that preferred to remain behind enemy lines and raid, kill, and cause chaos where she could.

A massive hand on his shoulder, pushing him into motion, belonged to his current master. Darth Mastodon was a Cragmoloid sith lord that looked truly fearsome all the time. His three meter tall frame was filled out with extreme musculature that was natural to his race. His face held one trunk, and two tusks. Both tusks held carvings of sith runes that were regularly painted or bathed in blood. Waide had seen those runes glowing when Mastodon invoked the ancient sith magics. That wasn't a sight that Waide saw often, as he wasn't ready yet to be initiated into those secrets.

"Acolyte, let us not keep the long dead waiting. Tis the eve of rebirth for this grand dark place, and there are many secrets to find and lessons to learn." The overly proper and enunciated words of his master rolled over him like an avalanche. Waide walked at his side as they made their way towards the main entrance. Out of the corner of his eye, Waide saw another acolyte take a service entrance of some kind, likely bypassing several levels in the process. His master and he moved under the eaves of the catacombs, and quickly lost the light. After a moment, a mechanism on Waide's mask lit his vision in greens, overlayed with a heat range. He could see with the significantly lessened light and any heat within the caverns. His master reached over and undid the mask with a flick of his wrist and a force trick. "You will not indulge weakness here, Acolyte. You were blinded by that padawan on Ossus, and now you should learn from that and practice seeing without your eyes."

As always, his Master said less than was truly desired for learning to take place. Never were instructions forthcoming, mostly a mere acknowledgement that he should be doing something, and Waide had to quickly figure out how. Waide did not stop walking, knowing that pausing to think would be reprimanded. He needed to be able to think on his feet.

​Reaching deep down into his well of emotions, Waide pulled the force to him and pushed his senses out. His brain interpreted the sense strangely, but perfectly understood it. At first, he was only able to see his immediate surroundings, even his massive master was only barely on the edge of his senses.

"We are no Jedi, do not request the Force to let you see. Instruct the Force to show you the world, take control." Waide was mildly stunned at the added words, though he followed the instructions and continued to push. "I have much more to teach you right now, so figure it out, Acolyte."

Then they were walking deeper into the catacombs. Waide followed Mastodon as if the massive lord knew what he was looking for. All the while, Waide grew his sensing radius, as he pulled the Force to him and pushed it out through his senses.

 

[Lina Ovmar]

Calina didn't like the sand much. It reminded her too much of Garn, and the graves she'd been made to dig of the day Anaya Fen had decapitated another friend for simply knowing her. Standing as far as she could get from her mother, without being too far away to not hear, Calina's listened, her eyes fixed on the ruined academy ahead of them. So this was her mothers latest dream? It seemed the twi'lek loose screws had been tightened recently for as much as Calina hated to admit it, she was inspired by the idea of a new academy.

Besides checking up on her mothers latest shenanigans, Calina was here to acquire something for herself. A pet, or two....or three. Ever since Valiks tomb she'd had a fascination with mutated and alchemized creatures. She found them far more interesting than her sith counter parts, just as volatile with tendencies towards violence, but that was OK. The more violent they were, they less violent Calina would have to be.

For the moment, Calina hung back, watching the rest of the crew as they surged forward. The more ahead of her, the more that her folly had to go through and the easier it would be to manipulate. An acolyte caught her eye, as he peeled away from the rest of the group. Curosity getting the better of her she slipped away after him, watching from the shadows as he disappeared down a construction vent. "Huh." said Calina, padding over as the lid slid closed again.

She tugged it back open with the force, peering down into the gloom. It was quite a drop and whats more, she'd no idea what was waiting for her at the bottom. It wasn't uncommon for an acolyte to attack a knight in an attempt to test themselves, but then again, what was she afraid of? She step-dropped into the hole, expanding the force around her to push against the walls and slow her descent, stopping completely where the vent opened up. She listened intently for a moment before dropping silently to the floor, her lightsaber clutched in the fingers of her right hand, just in case. The light from above her barely permeated the tunnel. She tilted her head, drawing on the darkside and using the force as her eyes.

The walls pulsed with the darkside, a shiver ran down her spine as she thought of the thousands of souls that had been laid to rest here. She could feel their hunger, their desire as powerful now as it as when they walked the planet above. She reached out gingerly to touch the wall, filled with a sense of awe. What secrets you must have, great ones. Smiling she followed the acolytes steps deeper into the catacombs, ears and eyes peeled for any hint of her prey.

[member="Waide"] [member="Alaric"]

 

[Froste]

It had been many years since Darth Roth had last been to Korriban. It was home to his first lesson as a Sith, as part of a group training. He had earned not earned the name Darth Roth then, he was simply the young Cole Tymon. A powerless Acolyte yet to be molded into a Sith Knight. The wind blew dust at his face like it had years ago, but now he had his mask to block it. He hadn't been permitted to wear a mask back then. It was but a small blessing.

Now he stood as [member="Anaya Fen"] spoke and instructed Acolytes and Knights alike. She gave her threat of death to those who hid artifacts, to which Roth did not react. He had learned better than to give anybody a reason to start conflict. He couldn't help but wholeheartedly disagree. Roth found the practice of simply killing fellow Sith for such a little reason to be quite silly. To him, thinning their numbers was frankly the opposite of what they needed at this point. For sure, a punishment would be necessary. A punishment would teach them to not do it again... Or not get caught. Roth would never be vocal about this belief, as there would be and are many who oppose it. While Roth was confident in his abilities, the infighting it might cause would be a prime example of what he did not want.

Throwing his inner monologue aside, Darth Roth watched as the Sith began to enter the catacombs. He mindlessly began to follow. There were things to kill, capture and whatever else one could think of inside. Still, Roth was not sure what path he wanted to pursue down these dusty halls. Perhaps he'd run into an acolyte and teach a bit, or simply slaughter the creatures camping inside. As he tried to make up his mind, he continued down into the catacombs.

 

[Darth Ophidia]

Korriban stirred Darth Ophidia's memories. Her old master, Darth Ferus, had once thrown her into a ruin like these. Stripped of her weapons, surrounded by Terentateks. He had instructed her to find and recapture her gear, and kill the nest's Matriarch. She had walked out of there wounded but victorious. Years later, she had thrown her own apprentice into a similar hole to retrieve an artefact, a saw him face the reanimated corpses of the dead, brought back through the chamber's innate magics. Now, in the guise of an acolyte -Her force-signature was heavily restrained, and her face hidden behind goggles and cloth wrappings. Her posture giving an air of insecurity masked in pride.- Ophidia he stood before yet another ruin.

Behind her goggles, she quietly surveyed the crowd that had gathered. Some covering themselves in cloth, others using the Force or sheer grit to ward off Korriban's hostile wind. Following the red Twi'lek's speech, the most eager, self-confident, or perhaps foolish set off on their excavation. It would probably have been more prudent to join the rearmost party, but her persona did not cater to prudence and the Pale Assassin was confident in her own abilities. So, she started off with the vanguard.

The Twi'lek's words stuck with her in part - Anything of true value would be stripped of their possession for the good of the Academy and on the threat of death. Did she care? This commander was not one with whom Ophidia had ever been familiar. Then again, who knew Ophidia? She had been a shadow before; now she was the mere ghost of a rumour. Making a mental note of finding out more, she brushed the thought aside and sharpened her awareness of the present.

The spirits of the dead saturated the air, like an inaudible scream that shook the very core of the weakest and challenged the stronger. Ophidia exuded a false fear as she fell behind one of the larger groups, joined a second smaller one and guided them left at the first crossroad. The darkness was oppressive, her companions were jittery under the surface. Who would not be in this situation? The Sith would seize the fear as a source of power while the pretender would succumb and be exterminated.

"In here, I think I see something."

One of her party-members spoke and the rest turned to see what he saw, with the exception of two who decided to keep eyes in either direction. Ophidia took two steps back, behind the group and reached to the back of her utility belt. Holding a light over her head, she made up a third look-out, but her true attention was on the group now as the first begun to trace lines along the stone wall.

 

[Olom Grihk]

The dimunitive Sith felt no love for Korriban, having been sold and moved as a salve here on three occasions before his awakening, made to work drearirly as an accoutant and technician to nobles. Thankfully, Sith or no, Moff's son or no, even the rich slave-holders had weaknesses to advanced neurotoxins. Of course this world was also where his first mistress, Tricia Kalamak, had foudn him, and left him on Dxun. Dxun was a world that he preferred. Teeming with life. Even Dromund Kaas, another world of tombs, at least had a jungle or two.


But Korriban was a world left to dirt and ashes. A dead world. A sad world, in truth. Left ot the work of ghosts and ghouls. Perhaps that was why he went to re-take Elom instead. Perhaps that had been it. Or pehaps it had been an avoidance of a world that seemed to always be lusted after by Sith with such tunnel vision it disturbed him. Ah, well. He'd help the order found it's University. After all, at least some of these people had a grasp of strategy, and others could learn governance and strength in other measures as well. A proper Sith academy or collegium would allow for genuine instructions.


He looked at Anaya Fen with his dull, reddened eyes, not advancing farther than her, as a small remote droid with a camera hovered beside him. Best to record anythign of note for later review, after all. Teeth like needles glinted towards teh red woman well over twice his height. "This should prove interesting. Tell me, do we know whose name is etched upon this tomb complex?" He leaned on his walking stick, happily playing the part of harmless old man. Honestly, he was a touch amused at msot of the others, all dressed to the nines, set on impressing the red woman. She seemed potent and interesting, but Olom's curiosity was what led him here, and he hoped some of it could be alleviated by bothering to ask the woman who had set this up. Of course, impetuousness never was his mode. Ask, scheme, move. In that order. Unless he needed to improvise.






[member="Anaya Fen"] [member="Darth Roth"] [member="Darth Ophidia"] [member="Calina Ovmar"]

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Step. Pause. Step. Pause.

There was something, or someone, following him. Steeped in the darkside. In a place like this, telling if it were for sure [member="Calina Ovmar"] or some monstrous creation was nigh impossible. But regardless, it made his presence feel small and insignificant, so as he stalked forward he kept one ear out for sounds of a charge. Otherwise mind was bent to purpose at hand, and he went forward. To most, his path would be wandering and random, but it was following a precise set of instructions from the workers who had been shoring this section up. Slowly the further in they went, the less work was done, and the more dust.

Eyes blinking, he paused for a moment to gain his bearings, breathing in the musky, damp smell, and eying the lichen. Some Alchemist could probably tell you why it would kill you. He just knew it was sickly green in color, oozing clear sap like secretions, and smelled sickeningly sweet. Having sense of mind not to touch the plant, he moved one, swords at ready, eyes scanning. The Dark Side grew heavier here, and the sand covering the floor became more persistent and finer, until finally he stopped and gazed at a set of iron bars that barred his way, thinking at what to do. Beyond lay a large open space shrouded in darkness, and Alarci's pulse quickened at the thought of what it should be.

 

[Froste]

Deep in the Catacombs,

Darth Roth had split from the rest of the group that had entered the catacombs. He walked down the old path, listening carefully. It was too dark to rely on his eyes too heavily, so he was reduced to using his ears and the force. As of yet, he hadn't encountered any sort of beast or creature. However, the Knight anticipated that would change sooner rather than later.

It seemed that with each and every step he took, there was less and less light. This was more of an inconvenience than a problem, but an inconvenience nonetheless. Roth decided to simply shut his eyes, they weren't doing him much good at this point anyway. He reached out with the force as he had done hundreds of times before, sensing walls and items scattered along the floor. Roth continued down the corridor as he had been before, until it opened up into a large room. He heard the sound of a beast, an old Sith Hound, as he entered.

It took only a moment for Roth to locate the Tuk'ata after it made its sound. He was above, in a small alcove. The beast jumped down, and Cole tracked it. As a precaution, Roth pulled his saber from his hip. The bright red was the only light in the room. He could simply cut into the Sith Hound, but he found that boring. Instead, Roth reached out with sinister tendrils, using the trick of Mentalism as he had learned all those years ago on Lialic. The tendrils reached the Tuk'ata and Roth sensed its feelings of fear and anger. His ghastly hand began to prod the beast's aura, causing it confusion and greater fear. The hand wrapped itself around this aura, and began to squeeze. The Tuk'ata resisted as hard as it could, but it had not experience something such as this before. A finger of the hand broke through the aura, causing a great deal of pain for the hound. It writhed in pain just like the humans he had performed this trick on before it. The trick was usually used on humanoids to extract information, but with the beast he only needed to cause it agony. He eased his grip off of the beast, and evaluated it once again. The anger had subsided, replaced with fear and submission. Cole Tymon let out a smile and sheathed his saber, he had not worry about the Tuk'ata for now.

 

[Darth Imperia]

Vitium's Apprentice found the idea of a Sith Academy to be an amusing one. She knew they worked, after a fashion, but her own training consisted of a mix of private lessons and being thrown into dangerous situations - the very idea of an Academy that one could learn to be Sith in the same way that one learned history or mathematics was utterly alien to her. Then again...the Apprentice looked down at her right arm, sleek and black and metallic, and decided that a more controlled learning environment might have some benefits of its own. Either way, it wasn't the Academy itself, or its well-being, that brought the Acolyte to Korriban. No, she came to learn, and to grow. As valuable as the Holocrons her Mistress allowed her access to were, Ragnos and Andeddu were not all-knowing, and some knowledge could be gained only through suffering and hardship.

With that thought in mind and lightsaber in hand, the Apprentice approached the ruins of the catacombs with the rest of her peers. A flicker of annoyance fell across her features as she listened to the Cragmaloid Sith Lord instructing his Acolyte - how dare he assume that he could simply command the Dark Side? - but she didn't allow it to show, nor did she dwell on it. Few Sith truly understood the symbiosis with the Dark Side that their chosen path entailed, the oneness with the Darkness that true power required. To see a Lord display such ignorance was disheartening, but unsurprising.

The Apprentice was cautious in her approach, neither too close to the front of the Acolyte horde nor deigning to take up the rear - she was eager to uncover the secrets of this catacomb, true, but recklessness and overconfidence had cost her an arm and a dear friend already.

 

[Orion Darkstar]

It was the pinnacle of all things related to the once great origins of the Sith, Korriban. He had heard tale after tale, and Sith after Sith using the planet for the betterment of the order. The history that laid beneath the cracked, dry ground held the truth. The truth of the lords and ladies that came before them all, that brought the Sith to what they are now. It was ironic that he found himself on a dead planet, one responsible for the rise and fall of their order, time and time again. Now, they were here to rebuild, retake, and revive what was lost. The dangers that lurked in the ruins about were shrouded in mystery, and yet still they were order to deal with it.

Kevros stood, silent as the instructions were given. Acoylte and knight running to the many different entrances to the ruins below. Kevros would have done just the same, if not for his curiosity. In the corner of his eye he had already spotted his entryway. Covered in rich sand and stone he lifted the white bricks to the side with the force and smiled. What was revealed was a dark circular hole a dark pit that seemed steep. Unsure of what awaited him below he carefully slithered inward finding leverage with his feet on the walls of he dark opening. Rocks the size of grenades, littered his way forward as the darkness swallowed the acoylte.

The hush tones of the wind above made his head turn to look what was behind him. Alert and trying to make his way through the tunnel he stopped. The darkness had become an issue. He hadn't thought of such a simple matter before entering. Either fate or the lords that haunted the once sacred ground were looking upon him as he waved his hands out toward the right wall. A long wooden stick was gripped. Kevros pulled with all his might before the metal casing that held it tightly to the wall broke free. His eyes slightly adjusted as he took a closer look. looking up to the ceiling he sighed, the wall had provided him with a torch.

With little tools to set it ablaze, the light source would need something to bring the oiled coals to life. Then like a jolt of his thoughts had ascertained the situation. Restraining himself a violet string of electrical arms spit forward from his free hand and zapped the top of the torch. A loud swoosh, followed by a sudden breath of flame greeted him. The torch lit the area around him as he looked to the orange, clay walls. Scriptures engraved in the Sith tongue. He was versed lightly in such writing, but tried to read it anyway.

"Darkness, breeds...the end?"

He could only make sense of a few words as he read it out loud. Confused he shifted the torch to the other side to find more engravings. Pictures of a small device continued to be displayed. Kevros was unsure what the lords before him were trying to depict, it excited him. His thirst for knowledge continued to be quenched as he examined further. Not wanting to spend too much time on simple walls, he whisked the torch forward. Thousands of rocks flooded the floor as the flickering light showed a steep descend. With a slow step forward a faint hiss reached the narrow passageway, steady and cautious, Kevros proceeded into the bowels of darkness.

[member="Calina Ovmar"] | [member="Alaric"] | [member="Waide"] |[member="Anaya Fen"] | [member="Darth Ophidia"] | [member="Olom Grihk"] | [member="Darth Roth"] | [member="Mala Arar"]

 

[Darth Ophidia]

Crash! - As expected

As soon as the stone block was traced out, a gust of corrosive fumes burst from the cracks and sent four of the investigators reeling as parts of their flesh melted away. Her two co-guardians spun around, pulling out their lightsabres and getting into a ready stance. Ophidia took a step back in feigned fright, gripping the weapon at the back of her hip and subtly reaching out into the darkness through the Force to stay alert - Something was coming.

The stone slab shifted with a rumble and crack. Dust fell from the walls, exposing the faded murals that lined the tomb. How many of these knew the letters of the ancient sith? Few, she would reckon. The words spoke of warning, doom, despair, as Sith tombs were wont to do. However, for one who had perused a considerable amount of Sith literature, there was a genuine warning implied within the words.

Should she warn them? No, it was success or death. Those who were too slow to keep up would fall and give rise to their betters.

The one who had originally stopped and begun his tracing of the wall had survived, covering himself in a shield of the Force just in time. So, confident in his skills, he pushed on the slab. It begun a smooth glide inwards, giving rise to a clinging shade that bled out from every corner. At first it was quiet, then he took a single step inside.

A roar of crashing stone followed as enormous slabs of stone blocked their return. Then came a scream, cacophonous, haunting, terrible, and beautiful. Dark tendrils shot out from the darkness of the uncovered door, and begun lashing out at the inquisitive Sith-hopefuls. The first one never had time to respond before his foot was entirely wrapped in a tentacle that swiftly flicked him against the wall before joining the battery. Lightsabres lit, eyes turned toward the sprung trap and away from the darkness at their backs. Hands emerged from the dark, gripping at their shoulders and pulling them into the walls. Those who could not fend for themselves were pulled into the walls themselves, kicking and screaming.

Several voices cried out at once: "Ambush!"

Ophidia herself felt the dry hands grasp her cloak and threaten to either pull her in or rip her apart, but she had observed, waited. With her fingers around the curved hilt of her lightsabre, she activated the bloodshine blade with a furious snap-hiss. With flicks of her wrist, the fingers were detached or incinerated. She was not the only one to fight back. Most of the party had formed a defensive line against the sorcerous offence unleashed at them.

However, there seemed to be no end nor exit. Except, perhaps, the maw of the tendrils. Push forward.

"Into the maw! Run, run!"

 

[Darth Abyss]

Abyss had rested a small distance away from the initial meeting, his legs crossed and his eyes closed while the red twi'lek gave her speech about the task at hand and the rules set in place for it. It didn't really concerned him, most things still hidden in there were either traps, or worthless junk that wasn't nearly powerful enough to raise his interest. Should he by chance or faith stumble upon something that was actually worth the trip, then he would keep it, and the only way to take it from him would be to rip it out of his dead hands. Artifacts of the dark side had their own live, in some way, and if one would cross his way then it would be by choice and not chance. And who was he to oppose fate.

Staying in his meditative trance he waited while more and more moved inside the ruins, allowing his mind to not search but listen. He had a rather unique connection to relics and ruins, and if he would stay patient then the echoes would guide the way he had to take. After a while of silence he finally heard a whisper, so far and faded that he almost discarded it as his imagination playing tricks on him. The more he focused on it, the more it began to fade, but it also became clearer that it was not simply his mind making things up.

Slowly he rose from the sands of Korriban, his eyes still closed to not lose touch with the echo. Following the sound in his head he began his descend into the catacombs, only guided by the force. As soon as is feet rested between the ancient stones the whisper became clearer, closer.

Without his eyes it was impossible to say where and how deep he was venturing down into the ruins, and the force would soon be his only guide in and out. He could feel the darkness living in each crack in the stone around him, in any corner, in any piece of rubble. But there was more than just the presence of the place itself, the auras of what was left behind by the ancient lords, sithspawn and probably other, even more dangerous things creeping through the shadows.

While the force woulf guide where he had to go, he still would need to see in some way, should someone or something decided to attack him. The darkness around him would stop his eyes from seeing, but with his ears and a piece of old witch magic he was able to see the place in his inner eye, composed by nothing but the sounds his ears picked up all around him.

 

[Darth Ophidia]

"Inside! Now!" "Run" snatch "Run" break, slap "Into the maw!" crack!

Darth Ophidia felt a hand gripping onto one of the looser bits of cloth on her protective wear. As it pulled, the cloth tightened around her throat. It almost tipped her off balance in sheer surprise, but as a makashi master, she managed to turn around and flick her bloodshine blade through the twig-like arm before backpedalling against the tentacled maw. For a moment, the Force screamed at her. Ophidia quickly stepped to the left and pivoted just as one of the investigators was knocked over the head with a tentacle. Had she not moved, then she would have been run through. Now, he smacked against the wall and squirmed in futility as the dark hands pulled him into the stone.

With a sneer, Ophidia turned to the tentacle and shot out her left hand. With a burst of telekinesis, less hidden than she would have liked, she managed to hold the dark limb in place long enough to slice through it. Another came swinging for her head, she crouched while stepping to the side again. This one crashed into a larger Zabraki male who was hauling half his friend towards the maw. He managed to tear himself from the wall by severing his own arm, looked at his Twi'lek comrade as she was bleeding out, and decided to abandon her. In that moment, he truly stepped into his own as a hopeful Sith. Ophidia followed behind him, using his broader shoulders for cover. She felt a tug at the heel of her boot, the twi'lek had grabbed hold to try to pull herself along. With a swift cut of her lightsabre, the hand was severed and the weak left behind.

Success or death.

The closer they came to the maw, the closer the arms came as the walls seemingly closed in. They urged up through the group, pushing through others. As the arm-wall touched the entrance, there was finally silence. The only light was what their lightsabres cast. Ophidia extinguished hers and closed her eyes, seeing the others through the Force.

"We need to continue to move. This is only the beginning."

A rumble rocked the stone around them. What was next?

 

[Darth Ophidia]

Outside, the hallway was quiet and serene. The closing walls had overturned any bloody sand, wiped out footprints, and scooped up the remains of fallen Sith. A new layer of dust set on the wall as it waited to be disturbed anew.

"Move, now!"

The Ithorian took point, but after a mere three blind steps he expelled a shriek of pain as his form was quickly swallowed by the sand. The lightsabre fell from his grasp as he clawed on the flaw in desperation. Behind them, Ophidia could hear a low rumble, then felt something tugging at her robes again. The shadow stuck like glue, eating up their rear.

"Stay clear of the walls."

She slipped away from the wall, tearing the already singed fabrics and interposing the tall Zabrak between herself and the shadows. They had lost many already. How many were left? The Zabrak, two humans, the dying Ithorian, a Miralan, and herself.

"We need to keep moving. This place is going to eat us up!"

"Go!" "Go!"

The Miralan was the first to take the chance, he stepped onto the Ithorian's head as a steppin stone and lept. His feet hit solid floor, the rest of the group followed. Human, Ophidia, Zabrak, Human.

"Argh! No! Help! Help m-!" The Ithorian's mouth was now swallowed, only his hands and hateful eyes remained over the surface, staring at the party as they moved on down the gullet of darkness.

"Watch your step! That won't be the last trap."

One of the humans slipped on something unseen and fell on her back. An audible click resounded beneath her. She scrambled to get up, but the spikes were too fast, cutting her exclamation of fear short.

"Kharallin!" "Don't!" The Miralan held the human back as the spikes retracted. "Pressure plates."

Whatever was at the end of this tunnel better be worth the trouble.

 

[Darth Abyss]

With every step the calling in his mind grew, a chanted chorus drawing him deeper and deeper in the depths. Now he could clearly sense a dark power seeking his attention, seducing him with a beautiful, twisted song that promised him knowledge of ancient, long lost secrets. He should know better than to literally blindly trust in a dark calling, but his curiosity, his hunger and obsession wouldn't allow him to leave and give up before he would uncover what was hidden. After stumbling through the tunnels for a while, now completely disconnected from any sense of location and orientation, he felt as the source of the power came into the reach of his hands. With only the old witch magic to see, he was unable to notice anything but cold walls, and empty paths, around him, the only thing standing out was the number of human remains that had risen since he had moved away from the entrance, and found its peak in the dead end right in front of him. He still could hear the calling, it was so close now, just beyond that wall ...

He opened his eyes, just so they were meet by dim red light, illuminating the tunnel in a otherworldly glow. There was no light source he could see, it seemed to come from a power that was beyond logic. The force. In the weak light he could see what his eyes couldn't. The wall in front of him wasn't just a dead end, words had been carved into it, and to his surprise not in the language of the ancient sith, but in the common tongue of the galaxy basic. Some of the skeletons of the ground were placed in odd positions, seemingly reaching for the wall.

"Seek your optic set, the pay your insanity."

Abyss read to words out loud and repeated them a few times in his head, yet he was unable to make sense out of them. It seemed like gibberish, written by someone who did not know much about basic. Yet he could feel the power behind the wall, so they had to have a meaning. Slowly he began to walk up and down, pondering over the secret that had to be hidden in them. He was smart, and he couldn't feel or see any danger close to him, so he had would figure it out over time. There was no doubt in that.

 

[Darth Abyss]

20 minutes later

Abyss yellow eyes stared at the wall, his thoughts never standing still once since he found this strange place. What was the meaning behind all this, what was the riddle he had to solve here? The wall certainly was some kind of security mechanism, and the only reason why someone would have placed it here was that something important, something powerful was hidden behind it. If he could only get through and find it, satisfy his obsession, still his hunger, devour the ancient knowledge waiting for him. The lure of uncovering secrets so long forgotten toyed with a certain part of his mind, his one weakness, his one true desire, turning of any possibility of logical observation of his situation.


1 hour later

Abyss hands hammered at the wall, and a silent cry left his mouth.

"Why ... Why will you not open? Why did you call me if you never intended to let me through?"

The words echoed through the tunnels, unheard by anyone but himself. He had lost any sense of time, so far away from any natural light, and his senses had turned dull. Neither his eyes nor his ears could tell him anything, he was lost, buried under the desert. Each second of his stay he had spend with his search for meaning in the strange words, but with every time he repeated them they lost a bit of coherence.


2 hours later

"Please ... PLEASE."

Abyss rested on the ground, his back leaning on the wall behind him. His cry, this time not so silent, again echoed through the cold stone around him, but after a few seconds he was again greeted by painful silence. A silence that seemed to only exist to mock him for his inability to unravel this secret, to mock the weakness of his mind.

 

[Darth Abyss]

4 hours later

As the wooden mask meet the ground, a single tear began to run down Abyss face, who was still sitting in front of the wall, and was slowly overtake by desperation. So long he had not felt fear, but lost in the depths of this cursed sith catacombs there was nothing but fear left to feel. He had gone over excitement, determination, confusion and anger, now he found the deep end. The darkest corners of mind came to live, the hands of a slow, disturbing death reaching for him. He always believed that his live would end with a blade, in a glorious last stand against his apprentice who by then would have overcome him in power. To die alone and forgotten in a place like this never had been part of the plan. With the force he could survive far longer than a normal man, but this time this ability would not work in his favor.


6 hours later

Blood dripped down from his arms, as he began to dig his nails deep into them, while laughing and crying violently at the same time. He smeared the red liquid at the wall, looking strangely similar to the skeletons around him. His mind was fading, the might of the mindeater becoming nothing but the broken remains of a man that had struggled through so much to reach what he had wished for. He survived a war, many battles and conflicts, the training under his master, betrayal and so many things more so he could one day be buried besides the ancient masters here in the valley of the dark lords, and yet he would rot deep below the sands of Korriban, erased from history in a heartbeat. The irony was not lost on him.


8 Hours later

"What?"

Abyss turned his head to the side searching for the source of the sound. A sound that only existed in his head, a fact he was unaware of. For roughly half an hour he was hearing strange things now, whispers, noises but every time he searched for them he was only meet by the emptiness around him.


10 hours later

The hallucinations were beyond sounds now, even beyond shadows creeping through the fringes of his peripheral vision. They had clear forms now, forms Darth Abyss, self proclaimed sith historian and lorekeeper, noticed without a doubt.

Sometimes it was his master Darth Ophidia, her hands clasped on her back, circling around him, her eyes filled with anger, and her voice as cold and mocking as ever:

"Lord of the Sith? You would amuse me apprentice, if you weren't such an disappointment"

At other times it was a bold man, roughly 2 meters in size, with muscles that looked like they had been trained and steeled for an eternity. There was no doubt that it was a representation of Darth Bane, the maybe greatest sith of all time:

"I'm pleased to see you rot. Your weakness would've only be a set back to the greatness of the sith. You are nothing, a worthless piece of dirt, a imposter and nothing else. You are not worthy to call yourself a sith."

When they neither took the form of his master or the siths chosen one, the visions became images of either Darth Nihilus or Darth Sion. Nihilus never spoke, he only unleashed a strange, otherworldly laugh, and sion only taunted him with his dead eyes.

 

[Darth Abyss]

12 hours later

Time had lost what little meaning it had left to Abyss. Imprisoned and at the limits his sanity the sith lord crawled over the ground, away from the wall, only to turn back after a few moments, still seduced by the power behind it. The visions continued to plague him, haunt him, and by now he was almost becoming accustomed to them, tuning out most of the insults thrown at him by them. There was no need to get worked up over this anymore, it was over. His live would end, as soon as his mind would run out of fuel to keep his body nourished by the dark side, and no one besides maybe his apprentice would really care what had happen to him. No one would know his stories, and all the knowledge he meant to protect would die with him. That was the fate of the sith, the weak get left behind so the strong could flourish. It was how it was meant to be.

Suddenly his slow, dull mind began to work again, piecing together memories, and glimpse of information. Something was wrong, something beyond the fact that he had been beaten by a wall. The visions were strange, even terrifying to some degree, but they were also oddly familiar. They reminded him of something, a faded memory in the back of his mind.

It was like a curtain was lifted, as he vividly rembered the day his master granted him the title Darth, and the visions he experienced in the old sith temple back then. The same images of the same dark lords, besides his master who had been physically present that day. They also taunted him back then, gave him fear and frustration, but in the end he formed it into anger, and emerged stronger than before.

His yellow eyes locked on the hallucination, this time again an image of Bane, the unreal words leaving no echo in the tunnels:

"You call yourself lord, yet a wall was enough to end your live. You're disgrace to the sith."

Abyss looked at the shadow for a second before opening his mouth, his voice filled with new found dedication, as he lifted his body from the ground, and crossed his legs in a meditative stance.

"No. I am Darth Abyss, the Mindeater. A true lord of the sith."

As he spoke he closed his eyes, shutting out anything around him, losing himself in the darkness that had emerged within once more.

"The darkness can not kill me, as I am one with the darkness."

He began to repeat thag sentence over and over again, the power inside him growing as he felt that his words came a step closer to reality every time he said them. His mind felt disconnected from this world, from the chains of the physical plane, ans suddenly he could feel as his body did the same, slightly levitating above the ground below him. Now his mind was calm, focused and the words on the wall began to appear in front of his inner eye. The letters began to change, replacing each other, forming a new sentence, one that actually made sense.

"To keep your sanity, patience is the key."

As he spoke the words out loud, he could hear the sound of stone cracking in front of him. When he opened his eyes, the wall was gone, and he was greeted by room shrouded in darkness.

 

[Darth Atrox]

Venturing into Korriban's tombs and catacombs alone was probably not one of Darth Krieg's better ideas, seeing as he was cornered by a pack of rabid Tuk'ata's, one with her head rolling across the spacious cavern, filled with the barks and snarls of the vicious Sith hounds. Unfortunately, her children didn't appreciate that.

As one, they leaped atop of him, exposing their stomachs and chests fully to his blade. One by one, they were cut down and butchered, proving as an example as the next wave of hounds bounded through a large hole in the wall.

The Sith's red sabre whirled dangerously close to the throats of the beasts, intent on digging into their stinking flesh and carving his mark on this section of the catacomb. A trail of Sith Zombies, Tuk'atas and K'lor'slugs marked the path back to the harsh surface of Korriban and back to the ferocious sandstorm raging on. The Sith homeworld reminded Karak of his own, Jakku.

Snapping out of his silly homesickness, the warrior pressed deeper into the catacombs, using the Force as a map to reveal any hidden traps before his body was sent to a premature death deep in the tombs of Korriban.

Eerie screams seemed to be haunting the very halls of Korriban's vast catacomb system, as if the dead Dark Lords of The Sith were still stalking the shadows today, the Force allowing them to stay present in the conscious world, or at least a part of them. Occasionally, whispers penetrated the blockade that was the Sith's mind, infusing their lies and terror deep into the man's head, like tendrils of smoke groping and grabbing roots and bushes as it advances through a forest.

Out of nowhere, a red blade arced down upon Kreig's head accompanied by a primal scream. If Karak's saber had not already been ignited he would most certainly been in two as the very speed of the attack was faster than any reaction, Force induced or not. A simple parry, however, pushed back the mystery assailant. "Reveal yourself!" Karak barked, stood in a heavily defensive Soresu stance which was unusual for such a violent warmonger. He began to convert the fear he was feeling inside to power, and the hate for the mysterious spectre which had attempted to end his life to passion.