In the Hall of the Mountain King

[Orkamaat]

The stone whispered of a thousand secrets as spidery fingers traipsed across its jagged surface. Scores of black, scorch and soot clinging to the rough surface, concealing the smoother lines underneath. It had seen much over the years, this stone. Hewn aeons ago from the face of a long-crumbled cliff, it had first served the honorable role of foundation. Centuries spent buried in the soft, nourishing earth had left its core forever saturated with the warmth of the soil. Around it grew a hardened, harsher shell, come to being when the worn boulder had been uprooted from its ancient home and cast carelessly, cruelly down the slope of a mountain.

Chipped and scarred, it arrived to the foot, picked up by the rushing rhythm of the river below. The stream carried it selflessly along, mile by mile submerged in the ever-flowing water as it experienced the rest of the planet for the first time in its ancient existence.

There were fires, its visage spoke. Pyres that licked the clouds themselves, incinerating the verdant greenery and reducing the recovering world once more to a wasteland of ash and sun-bleached bones. Now the rock lay in the blackened sand of a desolate beach, reaching towards the lapping sea with the desperation of a thirsty wanderer in a desert.

The Priest straightened once more, retracting his hand from the furrow he'd traced to its end. With a gentle nudge, he granted the antediluvian rock its last wish, tipping it over the edge and into the ocean below.

"Goodbye, little one," he muttered into the gentle gust that blew up from the sea, playfully pulling at his robes when the man refused to move. As if nailed to the spot, Orkamaat observed with an otherworldly interest the boulder as it slowly sank into those bottomless blue depths.

Once it disappeared, the spindly traveler finally turned on the spot and walked away, assuming a brisk pace that took him quickly across the plain. He knew now where to go, communed with nature as he'd had. Obstacles were reduced to mere footnotes on his path, removed by concise gestures of an absent hand as he hurried along, ever deeper into the vale.

There, in the bowels of the mountain, his search would come to an end.

[member="Avo"]​

 

[Kai Acheron]

Tython. Dwelling on the history that partook in the planet was staggering, even at the lightest glance. It had once been a beautiful world; captivating mountain-scapes, dense forests that stretched beyond the eye’s reach, and bountiful plains. Now all that remained were barren wastelands, all but erased from existence and knowledge. Much of the records had largely been forgotten about, though they were bound to exist somewhere. He’d trained here, on at least three occasions, each of them in a different locale. It was surprising to see that oceanic expanses and streams still frayed across the surface of the earth. Each time, a reminder that life would eventually find a way to return itself, though not during his mortal existence.

Kai could remember being blind folded, and led into the Silent Desert as a part of his training from Glo’ra, whom had encouraged him to seek her out at the far end using his intuition and connection to the force. The nights were chilling, down to the very bones that had weakly kept him upright in his earlier years as a child. Back then he was frail, harshly begotten after his practical servitude that she had released him from on Oberon. Oh the blisters and blinding sands that had scathing tore at his face, reaching into the depths of his eyes, even through the thinly veiled cloth that shielded them. He had spent nearly two full nights searching for the exit, encountering more wildlife than he had expected — not all of them friendly, despite the harsh conditions within the ecosystem. Predictably handicapped, the apprentice had been denied his lightsaber for the journey, relying on what few supplies he could muster. Water had been a lucky find, and likely what kept him alive. There was no doubt in his mind that his master would have helped, if the need arose, but the Togruta had always been the kind to push him beyond his limits and comfort zone. It made him stronger.

Pulling his consciousness back to the present, away from the bitter memory, the Jen’saarai exhaled as the staircase rescinded into the ship’s lower exterior. He hadn’t known why he found himself here once more, only remembering that every time he’d been on Tython it had been a bountiful learning experience. Perhaps here, he would find the answers that he needed. Or at least a clue. Which undoubtedly would lead to another, and an endless chain. At least here, there was the solace of knowing that few others would venture this far, or even consider landing on the surface. It was too volatile, and cruel to support humanoid life for long.

Spreading his wings, figuratively, the man strode along the growing path that had been carved into the scarred rock faces. This mountain had seen more than he ever would, and yet, there were stories. Too many to transcribe in one life time, but there was no denying that Kai felt the chill he would cross the path of one on his stay here.


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[member="Orkamaat"]

 

[Orkamaat]

Darkness lay ‘cross his shoulders like a worn satin cloak, familiar and heavy. Never unpleasant. Not for Orkamaat.

He glanced about, his vision unperturbed by the lack of light inside the cave system. The entrance had been hidden from view by a domed outcropping of black rock. It was the whistle of wind that gave it away, spurring the Priest to investigate further. Keen sense soon brought him to the mouth of the cave, and he’d entered without hesitation.

Critters skittered about around his feet, fleeing to their holes at the sign of advanced life. These deep nooks and crannies hadn’t seen a sentient foot in centuries. Tython had been burned time and again, finally by the Sith during their Core campaign – unopposed, wanton slaughter – and had just begun scabbing over its weeping wounds when the Priest arrived.

His knees touched the cool stone, then his thin fingers. It was wet, slippery with algae and moss that thrived in the cool underground. The fires hadn’t marred these halls.

“Would you show me the way?” he addressed everything and nothing, bright orange eyes skipping over the rocks in search of his guide. Though he could see in the darkness, he knew these arteries to run wide, and run deep. Orkamaat was a wanderer, but not a wanderer of this kind.

He knelt there in the silence, listening to stalactites grow. Eventually, a vaguely spider-like creature climbed in the proffered palm. Up and up his arm it went, tickling his gray flesh. It found its perch on his left shoulder, settling in the hollow between his neck and clavicle. There was space aplenty.

Orkamaat closed his eyes and sniffed the air. Earth. Decay. Water.

…
Force?

He swiveled towards the circle of light far behind, gaze piercing the cloudy sky outside. Someone else trod the soil of this planet.

[member="Kai Arias"]