KUSHIBAN
Location: Approuching cave system and fellow Sith.
Objective: Eradication of the pests (Objective 2 & 3).
Allies: [member="Aria Vale"] | [member="Syss Rembala"] | [member="Scipio Alta"]
Quietness had long since become home for the Iridonian. Loud noises and boisterous crowds serving to grind upon his nerves in a manner more severe than even incompetence and plane idiocy could manage - a feat unto its own. As such, the quiet that hung heavily among the group of Sith and soldiers alike did nothing to cause nerves to raise within his mind. On the contrary, the quietness only served to focus his mind and lower the pace at which his two hearts beat. The rage that seethed within him rejoiced in the quiet also, less a roaring flame of passion as it was for most Sith and more like a frozen rive - cold waters halted in place but ready to rush forth into rapids as soon as the first spark of need was ignited within him. Patient and ever ready beneath the surface of his skin, it sat ready and waiting, soothed by the quiet but ready to lash forth as soon as the quiet might break.
The attitude of his companions served to ease Lykos' stress also. Rather than being distracted and unfocused, the group marched deeper into the depths of the spiraling cave system, alert and ready to strike at the first sign of threat. Competent rather than useless, they were not weights which served to weigh him down, hold him back from the goals he sought. Admittedly, he would have much preferred that they possess skill sets similar to his own, preferred that they were as comfortable in shadows as he and as skilled at obscuring themselves from sight and sound as he, so that the missions they marched on would be concluded with ease and little wasted time. Alas, this was not the case and besides - he mused with a slight tug at scarred lips, twisting them into a rare sign of emotion that was occluded within the darkness of the tunnels - perhaps it was for the best. He had become spoiled from the time he had spent with his Right Hand and Shade, it might well be a good thing that he was now being forced to operate with those that did not match his skills.
Pulling his mind away from the wandering it had begun to perform, cursing within the privacy of his mind as he did so at the effects of the self-proclaimed curse he lived under, Lykos refocused his attention on the present. Letting his steady gate slow somewhat, shuffling instead of striding forwards, while ignoring the sharp sensation of pain piercing through the bare soles of his feat, Lykos slowly closed his eye lid (the right one a tattered mess of skin that hung uselessly over the void of a socket constantly and, as such, he considered it always closed) and directed his attention to the sounds and scents around him. Rot, filth and wet fur assaulted his nose instantly, revulsion coluring his features at the scent of the pest they had come to illuminate strung at his awareness sharply. However, he dove past the initial scent of living, smelling the wet moss and rock of the caves and, thankfully, no close by individual scents. Such a conclusion was supported by the fact that while he could hear the sounds made by the pests echoing off of the walls, none of them were originating from nearby, but, instead, from deeper in.
Snapping his gaze open as the sound of muffled footsteps came to a halt, Lykos' amber eye settled on one of the soldiers as his hushed voice drifted into the silence. As the soldier said, there was the option to move left presented as the tunnel they had been marching along split into two paths. Unfortunately - and Lykos was internally grateful that he didn't need to admit this allowed - the echoing nature of the caves and the time that they had been lived in meant that the scents nor sounds that he had been focused on moment prior were of use in determining their path forwards.
Still, Lykos' was loath to do something solely because intel had said to do so when the source was not one that he had cultivated and trusted. As such, on silent footsteps, he slipped to the back of the group, brushing past Aria as he did so. Letting his sight of the material fade away once more as his eye closed shut, he altered his sight to gaze into the etherial instead. Before him, slowly, the threads that comprised the Force and crafted the sea of reality that it was - the threads that spun the tale of the past, sung the tale of the present and held the innumerable possibilities of the future - formed before him. Listening and twisting his sight through the strands of the future, Lykos hunted and sought through his strength of will, seeking to peer past the present and see the outcomes of passing to the right. Slowly forming in the void, darkness, silence eventually greeted him. But, it did not last for long. Soon it gave way to scurrying, terror, pain, ambush, surprise.
Having seen all he needed, Lykos pulled himself to the present moments after he had cast his consciousness into the Force. Hissing softly beneath his breathe as his vision blurred into a mess of colour and nothingness, Lykos reached out to steady himself against the wall when it was made clear that the damage to his sight would not be resolving itself anytime soon. His gift at peering into the Force itself had always tasked his body, often resulting in nosebleeds, but, recently, it had begun to cost him his sight.
"We go left." When he spoke, his voice carried none of the distress he felt as his vision refused to correct. Nor did it carry his understanding that such words weren't needed for the group when said path had already been chosen. However, what they did do was ensure that he stabilised himself, centered himself, and resolved that the events he had witnessed came to pass. Not so much because it would mean death for him, indeed it hadn't shown his death at all, but because he was unwilling to march down a path where he could be ambushed.
Footsteps broke him from his thoughts once more, causing him to hiss a quickly uttered "Kabno" beneath his breathe before he pushed himself off from the wall and shuffled forwards, following the group and running the time that he had missed while in his thoughts through his mind to ensure that no questions had been asked of him. All the while, he despaired at the fact that his sight was still compromised.
