Not All Mountains Are Covered in Snow

[Progflaw99]

Oricon \\ Corva Sector \\ Outer Rim​

​

"I shall be telling this with a sigh​

Somewhere ages and ages hence:​

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—​

I took the one less traveled by,​

And that has made all the difference."​

​

- "The Road Not Taken", Robert Frost​

​

A smile crossed the young girl's features, though truth be told she had already begun the transition from girl to woman years ago. Forced to mature beyond her years, a solid resume of experience living on the streets had been a cruel teacher - or had it really been? The wayward teen had finally managed to escape the cesspool that had been Telos IV. That sequence of events had gone spiraling downhill faster than she'd ever thought was possible - everything had gone up in flames.

From her perch in the cargo hold she could see and hear almost everything, more importantly, she was able to glean some information about their destination as a small cadre of the crew sat around, a small deck of cards laid out on the table. Shifting her weight from one leg to the other, she wrapped one arm around one of the support frames along the upper hull of the ship. Voices filtered up from below, just over the strong hum of the engines and electrical systems.

"So, are you in or not?" A gruff human male sporting a thick bush of a beard growled as his hands hovered over the table, deck in hand. "If you're out, then you'd better get scrubbing those carbon filters." A dejected look from the spacer he addressed and a gesture with his hand was all the answer he was given before he trudged off. "The rest of you lot?" Silently the rest of the men nodded, indicating their acceptance into the next round. Lyra had never played Sabacc but she understood the basic concepts, what had interested her more were the pockets of the men who did play, though that was a dangerous game. As it turned out, gamblers didn't just love their money, they lusted for it.

Her interest waning she took to looking about the cargo bay, trying to guess what it was that they were transporting, and where they were headed. *Right. Where are we headed.* Nimbly slipping her arm loose of the structural support, she set her booted feet on the large container she'd utilized to get up to the ceiling in the first place. *There ought to be a label on this thing somewhere, right?* Crouching low as she moved across the container Lyra's eyes scanned for any markings that might give her a clue as to what new hell she'd be travelling to.

It certainly wasn't her first choice but it had been convenient, that and it might have had to do with the fact that she'd run out of options. Sliding down the durasteel wall of the container her eyes locked on to a small datapad mounted on the door. In bright red letters the word "Oricon" was listed. Frowning, the girl tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. She'd never heard of Oricon, much less knew where it was. Shrugging her shoulders at no one in particular she made her way behind the container, sneaking between the crate and a large hunk of machinery covered by a tarp. Hearing voices she ducked, eyes tracking the movement of two of the crew as they walked towards the Sabacc table.

"Hey! Captain says it's time to prepare for landing - we're almost there. Gonna have to finish your measuring later boys." A voice cut through the low din coming from the men, a lewd gesture following. What had been a bantering cluster of men suddenly turned into a flurry of activity, cards disappearing and bodies spreading out throughout the hold. Suddenly Lyra realized, she wasn't truly in hiding any longer! Taking a quick breath her eyes frantically searched for an escape, a hidey hole, anywhere she could conceal herself before the crew stumbled upon their little stowaway. Almost more by instinct than conscious thought her eyes snapped to the canvas covered machinery next to her - and then she took action. Tugging at the canvas she was able to just barely slip beneath it, between two tie downs. Just as her feet disappeared beneath the tarp a heavy whirr sounded throughout the ship and she felt the deck shift. Soon they would be on the surface of Oricon - and she wasn't sure whether to be afraid or excited.

[member="Tirdarius"]​

 

[Teynara Jeralyr]

| Dread Temple, Oricon, Corva Sector |​

| [member="Lyra Naerys"] |​

Lazy wafts of smoke spiralled up from the ashen-strewn ground far below the artificial structure that towered over the ruin that was the planet of Oricon, permeated by long slivers of bright-orange, red-hot molten streams, undulating across endless fields of black. The heat was near unbearable at ground-level, an uncomfortable warmth that would tunnel through your clothing, strike at you remorselessly, no chance for relief offered. Ash tumbled through the fetid air in curling spirals of burning white, slowly cooling to join their countless siblings on the hard surface. A wretched place, unfit for life or civilisation.

The perfect place, in that respect, for a Sith.

Only their kind and those bound to their service had ever dared walk the planet's burning surface for any lengthy period: those few who came here without invitation quickly left again, provided they did not serve to provide fuel for the raging fire that ever bubbled up from the planetary core. No cities existed, no sense of broader civilisation: the sole permanence being this durasteel and permacrete monstrosity that rose towards the skies with little care for the rules. This was a Sith world by default: dangerous, lethal to those unprepared for it, unwelcoming to those who dared to trespass.

The sole occupant of this place stood now overlooking this dead place, grey eyes calmly observing the lava flows as they made their way to the surface and undulated along the cooler molten rock, soon to join it in time. Each breath carried the acrid smell carbons, tendrils of smoke that were released from their earthly bonds, reaching towards the darkness of space as heat empowered them. Yes, a wretched place this was, but at least solitude might be found here. In that, my ancient brethren chose well.

It had been a research outpost, a place concealed from all knowledge, used by a Sith of the ancient empire as a foundation for the work he might do, safely hidden away from all things living, to tap into powers that so few dared risk. Success had been his, though he had never seen it come to fruition. Those who had...well, their destinies had ended at the hands of the Jedi, who offered their own contribution to the death that plagued this place, then rapidly departed, hoping to forgot what they had experienced. And so Oricon remains lost to all but us. What better place for a Sith to make their home?

Tirdarius had come here seeking solitude: of late, there had been so much to do, and the forces of the Sith were finally stirring after their time in the dark. No longer did they feel the need to lick their wounds after the fall of the One Sith, but instead were directing their energies towards once more building to set their sights on conquest and consolidation. But the more we prepare, the more we darken the shadows that will see war set upon the Galaxy once more. The necessity of it was clear, of course, but the consequences could not be ignored. Death would become a reality soon visited upon many.

It had been easier to retreat for a time, to take an opportunity to breathe and gather himself, preparatory for the work that was to come. Few places in the Galaxy allowed for true solitude, but he knew of several: this abandoned fortress out in the middle of nowhere had seemed perfect. Though to breathe here is to inhale poisonous fumes of a different sort to the kind Sith usually settle for. Still, space had been something he had sorely needed of late, and so he had come.

Staring out across the desolation, his grey eyes tracked motion of a different sort: not something rising from the surface, but rather descending from a higher altitude, moving towards the planet. For a moment, disbelief struck at him, waging war with what his senses told him. Who would be so foolish as to come to a world living it's final death throes? Clearly someone had the intention of disturbing his solitude, whether deliberately or by dint of accident. Where else can they go, but here? There's nothing else left standing. Even the ancient slave camps had long since found themselves buried beneath ash and molten rock.

His calm expression devolved into a scowl, a cold facade that spoke a little to the anger within, a placid lake rippling now with a stone thrown into it, no longer peaceful, but as tempestuously disturbed as the planetary surface below. Fools, to come here. Whether you seek respite, a hiding place, merely a convenient place to forget about the galaxy for a while, you have disturbed a being at rest.

And when you waken the danger from sleep, you find yourselves feeling sorry indeed. He would discern their purpose and see to it.

 

[Progflaw99]

Near Dread Temple \\ Oricon \\ Outer Rim​

​

She could feel the subtle sway of the vessel as it dropped lower into the atmosphere, her small frame pressed tightly against the cold metal of whatever it was that her arms were wrapped around. Clothed in a hastily thrown on shirt, sweater, and pants, she'd realized too late that she'd grabbed replacements for her soaked clothes that were a size too large. The circumstances of that particular mistake however were the least on the young Lyra's mind. She felt another shudder as the engines flared, slowing the vessel's descent. Sweeping low over the horizon the small cargo ship weaved between the scattered peaks of Oricon, little more than jagged protrusions of cooled magma and husks of expended volcanoes. On the bridge of the hauler the Captian and his crew prepared for landing. Captain Jale Senko, a hulk of a man, stood steady on the deck plating of the Bilge Hammer. It was a mid-size mining rig, the worn hull of the ship speaking to its heavy use and poor upkeep. The lumbering hulk had slowed down significantly as it continued over the molten plains, slow lava flows and pockets of heated gas and molten rock bursting forth in unpredictable spurts.

Less than a minute later the ship touched down along a cooled plateau of what had once been a roaring lake of fire. Lyra felt the hard touchdown and heard everything in the cargo hold rattle as the Bilge Hammer came to rest. Accompanied by a loud hydraulic hiss, voices grew louder, barking commands given by a faceless crew member while she hid beneath the canvas covering. *What have i gotten myself into now?* From her hiding place, a new noise sounded over the loud grinding of machinery. A high pitched whine that got louder and louder - and then she felt the entire world around her move. Manipulating the controls of a large cargo hauler, one of the crew had honed in on the piece of machinery Lyra now clung to. With little more than an audible shout at someone to "Get outta tha' waay!" she felt the pallet move, the hum of the engines on the hauler obscuring everything else. Riding it out, Lyra looked frantically for anything that might serve as somewhere else to hide, or at least be able to slip from without notice. *Drat.*

As the hauler exited the vessel, heat from the planet's surface rose. Lyra could immediately feel the change in temperature, warm waves of foul air slipping in beneath the cover. The aroma of sulfur and heated metal filled the girl's nostrils, memories of the industrial district on Telos IV rising to the surface for a brief moment. Ever curious about their destination, this... Oricon, Lyra edged her way towards a small opening on her left. Gently pushing the canvas aside, she peered out. *Oh no.* A lake of molten crust and barren landscape were all she could see, and quite possibly the most disturbing of it all - fire.

The super-heated magma cast an orange glow about the planet's surface. Dark ashen clouds blocked out all natural light, traded instead for the reflection of the volcanic hues of the earth. Outside the realm of Lyra's vision, the crew of the Bilge Hammer had suited up, heat resistant suits covering their bodies as they moved various pieces of equipment into position. Various containers, generators, and bright lights were set up quickly, the largest piece of equipment yet to be unveiled - though not for long. As if to confirm that, two heavily clad men began untying the covering where Lyra hid, the soft zipping sound as the cord was rapidly pulled through the metal eyelets. Lyra's heart began to beat faster, frozen where she sat, crouched behind a large mechanical arm. It felt like forever before the tarp was finally pulled back revealing all.

Firstly, the heat. Beneath the protection of the canvas tarp the heat had been present but now it was nearly unbearable. Heat waves radiated off the rock around her. Secondly, she noted the suits of those men who'd pulled back the tarp. It wasn't their suits that caught her attention the most however, rather the blaster pistols quickly being drawn and voices sounding over the general roar of the magma flow. Thirdly - she was now trapped. Her heart continued to beat even faster, the full realization of her predicament causing her mouth to dry, her senses overwhelmed by the audio and sensory input now assaulting her. Breathing in the air thick with heat and iron she shouted, her voice cracking slightly as she ducked her head and threw up her hands.

"Please! Don't shoot me!"​

​

[member="Tirdarius"]​

 

[Teynara Jeralyr]

| [member="Lyra Naerys"] |​

Contrary to expectations, the ship had not descended to land at the citadel - though there were few other places it might reasonably have expected to go, but had instead chosen an abandoned area slightly beyond, one that had once been considered as a plateau for mining, but had long since been left neglected, those who sought to extract valuable minerals from the fetid surface rapidly seeing it as an expenditure which would only keep getting bigger. Oricon has ever taken a toll in lives and equipment. The venture had rapidly been abandoned, the mining crews setting off for less dangerous pastures that might provide a steadier profit.

Observing the ship as it landed and as the crew scurried from the cold innards out into the heat of the day, the dark-clad figure noted with amusement at the precautions they were taking: heat-resistant clothing, breathing apparatus that might preserve their lungs against the fetid humors of this place, the machinery that they might use to dig underneath the surface and perhaps find the rare minerals and metals they sought, such that might fetch a good price on the galactic market. But they have not considered every variable in this equation.

Of course he could simply watch, let them do their work and leave unharmed: in truth, he doubted they had intended on disturbing his solitude here, but those foolhardy enough to pick a world like Oricon might notice that it was largely unpopulated, ripe for the picking by those with the courage and resources to exploit it. And such might lead them to survey, seek out things they should not find. He could not allow such an exploration: the presence of the Sith on Oricon was not something he wanted the Galaxy to become aware of. This planet is lost to most, and it shall remain that way.

Unfortunately for these poor fools, that mandated but one course.

He remained attired in his dark robes, lighter of material than the usual heavier ones he wore off-world, but the climate here did not best suit much thermal insulation. The miners wore breathing gear, air-conditioned environmental suits that would keep them cool and comfortable, but a Sith had no need for such things: the Force was all they needed, and Oricon was a swirling vortex of such potent energies, available to be tapped in if only you knew how. And it is ever a worthy thing to practice the skills that you need to survive in the most dangerous of places. Complacency was death to a Sith: Tirdarius knew that instinctively, as did the others of his kind.

It was child's play to reach the landed vessel without being observed: the miner's weren't paying the least bit of attention to a dead environment, focused as they were with their work, so Tirdarius did not even require the Force to blind their eyes or weave an illusion over their senses. The rough scarred metal that served as the outer hull of their vessel had clearly seen much rough treatment: micrometeorite strikes, heat damage from atmospheric entries, a little carbon scoring here and there. No respectable ship's captain would leave their ship so battered, but no doubt it made the vessel look unremarkable. Better if prices require you to smuggle rather than simply sell. A crew like this might perhaps be used to doing a few less reputable jobs to make ends meet.

Their attentions had shifted: there was something attracting their focus now. Before, their minds had been mulling away on physical tasks, something that required a certain level of discrete mindfulness, but often left them mildly distracted by thoughts of home, past memories, old acquaintances: the sort of mulling that was so common among those without true mental discipline. The change had been rapid, the sudden shift that placed them all in a state of hyperawareness: their thoughts aligning at speed, provoking adrenaline and prompting them to action. Have they spotted me at last? The Sith Lord smiled at the thought: it didn't matter if they had. It would simply require him to take action a little more precipitiously.

Yet there was no sudden blaster shot in his direction, no cry of outrage or surprise at his presence: their minds were not directed at him. A predatory smile of amusement flashed across his face, wondering at what had caught their attention. A distraction serves my purposes better than theirs. Now he honed in closer on the emotions, proximity making them easier to read, he could sense anger, outrage, surprised, atonishment, and a rapidly-deterioriating desire to commit violence. My, my, how interesting. He had to see this for himself.

Walking away from the cooling metal of the hull towards the back of the ship, footsteps silent against the molten rock that the ship had settled upon, grey eyes confronted the miners staring deeper into the belly of their ship, several of them with blasters drawn and aimed at something that resided within. The Sith Lord found this intriguing, and reached out, sensing another being within, full of trepidation and fear. Trapped something, have you? Yet it was a sentient being, he knew that: no animal would allow it to be trapped in that fashion, and fear would rapidly turn into the desire to escape, an overwhelming urge to attack or simply run. And I sense stillness here. The miners had cornered someone.

"Hardly fair to draw weapons on someone defenseless, gentlemen," he intoned in a calm voice from behind them, his accent more appropriate to the upper spires of some apartment building on Coruscant than to a dead world such as Oricon, each word carefully enunciated and expressed with even weight. "If whoever you have there wanted you dead, I daresay the first shot would not have been yours."

The Sith Lord examined them carefully as he stood there, hands brought together before him, the tips of his fingers making gentle contact with each other. Long black robes draped around his slender frame, predatory grey eyes stared at them with unwavering intensity, appearing cool and collected despite the oppressive heat of the molten pools flowing close by. The only reason they were alive yet was because he wanted to know what it was that threatened a bunch of grizzled explorers such that they needed blasters to hand. After that...matters would be brought to a close.

 

[Progflaw99]

Her hands up and eyes squeezed shut, Lyra braced herself against one of the arms of the machinery she crouched behind. They had to fire - there was almost no doubt in her mind that this was the end and it had all started with that kriffing soup kitchen. Her perfectly constructed plan, almost literally blown to bits and now, here on this forsaken molten rock. She could already feel the heat from the surface of the planet biting at her exposed flesh, almost unbearable and she'd only been exposed for a few moments. Taking in deep breaths of heated air she fought to bring her steadily rising panic under control. Squeezing her eyes even tighter shut her mind shuddered, flashing to black - and then the flames.

---​

The cackling of the orange tongues licking at the corners of her vision exploded into gouts of flame as her eyes snapped open - or at least in her mind. She could taste the smoke in the air, her eyes stinging. There she was again, young, innocent - weak. In her years on the streets she'd grown stronger and yet at the mere sight of fire her whole being shook, mind paralyzed. Opening her mouth she went to scream, instead inhaling a cloud of thick acrid shroud. Erupting into a violent fit of coughing her child's frame shook, her small fists balled up as the tears evaporated into the air... no... this was her imagination - as if looking at herself in a mirror she gazed into those child's eyes and what she saw was not the terror she remembered. No this, this was anger.She felt the heat of the flames flush against her skin and the scene evaporated.

---​

Gently she forced open her eyes, the realization that she was still very much alive dawning upon her. Not only was she alive, but the heat hadn't cooked her through - her uncomfort was extreme but she could breathe without burning her lungs if she did so slowly. Hesitantly she inhaled, curious as to why she hadn't been blasted to bits. Eyes peering over the edge of her hiding place, she noticed the two men who had second ago been drawing their blasters in surprise had spun on their heels, their backs turned to her. Beyond them stood a lone figure - one her aqua blue eyes were drawn towards as if by a magnet. His presence tugged at her mind, she could almost feel the subtle power the man commanded. She had been afraid of the men with blasters but this man was something different entirely. Clad in only robes he seemed to weather the harsh environment as if it he were merely taking a stroll through the Park District back on Telos IV.

The unfortunate miner's attention had been drawn, eyes set on the strange arrival. They'd turned at the first sound of his voice, the men's lumbering forms slow to react in the environmental protection suits. The taller of the two men grunted as he brought the barrel to bear, lazily held to aim at the robed man's midsection before his voice could be heard through an actuator in the mask.

"Oy, and what have we got here? A crusty old man - eer on this rock?"​

​

The taller one must have been the stupider one, for his companion had realized that the man before them had no environmental protection and held himself with an air of authority. Lowering the blaster and holding up his left hand in a sign of surrender. The shorter man had been to many planets, his loose hair gray and his skin the texture of leather around the mask on his face; the man recognized this strange man for what he was. He also knew his blaster was near useless but the tall man obviously hadn't seen his friend hesitate. Foolishly taking a step forward, he opened his mouth again.

​

"Aright then, wot do yew wont, an wot you bablin' bout?"​

​

Gently spinning the tip of his barrel in impatience his booted feet stepped precariously on the edge of a small hole, he hadn't noticed. Below the edge of the surface simmered a small bowl carved into the rock, lined with magma but the man's boots held the heat at bay, at least for now. The tall miner's companion took a step in the other direction, towards the loading ramp - perhaps if he were to make a run for it... he would live to tell of their foolish trip to Oricon. The tall one took a moment, the toes of his left foot hanging over the edge of the small depression. The robed man's words had seemingly sailed right over the brute's head.

Lyra, still on the pallet of machinery, had stood up and lowered her arms. Hesitantly she watched, unsure of whether she would even stand a chance out there in the magma covered landscape - No. She knew she'd never make it alone out there, even now she had to fight to keep her mind from losing control. Closing her fingers into fists she took a single deep breath, slowly breathing in through her nose and focusing on the man in front of her. Stronger now, she could feel his presence, as if it were a stone amidst a shifting sea of sand. A rock, immovable. She drew from it... what would happen next? She watched with anticipation.

[member="Tirdarius"]​

 

[Teynara Jeralyr]

| [member="Lyra Naerys"] |​

With the movement of the taller of the pair currently facing him, the Sith Lord was able to look past them, and see the source of their earlier alarm, that which had suddenly brought their weapons to bear, drawn with the full intention of using them. As he observed this dire threat, a faint smile came to his lips, one of malicious amusement. A girl. That is what threatens you? She was clearly terrified in her own way: it was her fear he had sensed earlier, but he sensed it was not fear of the fools that had so callously waved their blasters in her direction. Nor was it fear of him. There was something more to it.

Now she stood, he could well understand how she had ended up here: tall, for her evidently youthful age, but skinny in a way that suggested she was clearly underfed. Her clothes were hardly the right size for her, evidently cast-offs or something she had scrounged in order to keep herself warm - scarcely a problem here, but obviously something of consideration at the ship's departure point. The shock and surprise that the miners had exhibited on seeing her had filled in that final point of consideration: she was a stowaway, an unexpected surprise they had not thought to find. And yet she remained undetected for the entire time you were in space. Resourceful, at least.

Though not so much so as to not get caught. Not only that, but she had stowed away aboard a ship that was not going to some civilised world that might give her opportunity and a fresh start: instead, they had come here, to a world that would not be so accommodating to her. She could not simply escape the cargohold and wander the streets of some new metroplitan city on a world she had never heard of: indeed, if the miners wished her harm, all they needed to do was to strand her here. A matter of hours would be all it would take. If she's resourceful, perhaps a day or two, but then she would die of dehydration, or starvation, if the elements did not kill her first.

"What do I want?", he repeated, careful elocution of each word indicating what he thought of the other man's rougher speech. "I sought solitude, and you have thought to invade my home. Not very smart of you, altogether." For a moment, the irises of his eyes appeared to take upon a fiery glint, reminiscent of the raging molten streams around them, but the light faded as quickly as it had appeared, a trick of the light. "Did you come here to steal from me?"

He knew they hadn't, of course: chances are they hadn't known that a Sith even resided upon this world. Bought the co-ordinates off a smuggler or someone who thought they had a tip to riches they could not exploit, not realising that there was a reason why this place has been left unoccupied. They were innocent, undoubtedly, brought here by a promise of something they would never obtain. Still, it never hurt to put such individuals on the back footing for a moment, see if they might recognise the depth of their mistake before the end.

"But you've not the wit to see that you had a stowaway before you landed," a faint tone of amusement in his voice becoming evident as he spoke, a touch of predatory humour that made it clear exactly how he felt about those that thought to trespass upon the fiery world. "How long did she avoid you? A week? Two, perhaps?" His eyes sought her now, looking past the fool that had long ago sealed his own fate. "Did you imagine you'd find escape with dead men, girl?"

 

[Progflaw99]

The taller of the two men tapped his foot impatiently as he listened, the condescension in the elder man's voice easily recognizable. The tall miner had lived a less than privileged life, and education had certainly not been at the top of his list when it came to priorities. He'd lived a fair amount of years, rendering him older but certainly not wise - just intelligent enough for him to catch when someone was looking down at him. Scowling as the robed man began with his question, he interjected, his rough speech a staccato report against the almost soothing rumble of the active volcanic planet and the cultured speech of the strange man before him.

"Steal? Ent' nutthin to steal. We're mining n' I ent seen no claims."​

​

With a bit of a 'humpf' the man turned at the torso, taking the barrel of the blaster pistol in his hand and gesturing towards the hulk of machinery where the girl now stood. He took his eyes off the man for a second, an annoyed sneer crossing his features beneath the respirator. A couple of meters away his friend had slowly began to back away, stepping farther from the tall one, eyes still locked on the robed man - his fear was complete. The smooth voice, the baited speech. He'd known only one other man to possess such subtle prowess and the only reason for his escape? He was but a child at the time.

Behind the pair of ill fated miners Lyra watched, her breathing becoming slowly more metered, the wanton panic now held in check by her focus. The man spoke to these miners as if they were mere children, annoyances at best. It both excited her, and scared her. There was a piece of her that was the scared little girl, the flames getting ever closer and then there was something else, something infinitely deeper - something ethereal - tied to her very being. Tepidly she watched the scene unfold before her, Lyra's ears attentive to what was being said.

As the robed man continued speaking, the tall man turned to the girl, eyes narrowing. The strange robed man had a point, how had she remained hidden for so long? Their crew numbered almost twelve in all, the other ten in various stages of unpacking equipment or carrying out maintenance on the ship itself as they prepared to mine the magma for precious crystals. The frustration could be seen clearly in the man's demeanor, his hand loosely clinging to the blaster, his patients tried as he listened to the old man blither - and then, the old man addressed the girl. A mixture of confused and frustrated, he passed his gaze from one to the other as they spoke.

A twinge of anger punctuated her response. The entire course of events had gone terribly south, careening off the carefully constructed tracks she'd set for herself from the start. Narrowing her own eyes, she looked first to the tall miner, then the the other. Finally resting her eyes on the man who had posed her the question. Above the sounds of flowing magma and cracking earth, Lyra spoke. Quiet at first, but as she found her voice it carried past the two miners to where the one who had addressed her stood.

"A lot of things haven't turned out the way I had imagined today."​

​

She could feel the stirrings of anger. It wasn't fair, any of it. She knew the world wasn't fair - or maybe it was in its own way. The strong survive, the weak die. Life had its way of deciding naturally... as she stood there, the intense heat of the planet only briefly held at bay, she began to wonder if this was somehow a justice. It was strange to think that man clad merely in robes could be so comfortable compared to the miners clad in heat resistant gear. Focusing on the heat that pressed in against her she pulled up her overlong sleeves, brushing a strand of errant hair from her face and tucking it behind her ear.

[member="Tirdarius"]​

 

[Teynara Jeralyr]

| [member="Lyra Naerys"] |​

Claims. Such an amusing concept: to obtain permission of some higher authority to steal from the very land, take possession of things that the authority itself had little right to, in truth. No doubt these men simply thought to come here, take what they could, fly off again and become rich on the minerals they might harvest from the world. And all because they thought they could, with none to stop them. He needed to wave a piece of paper in front of them saying that the land was his, and they would simply turn around and fly away? Such an amusing idea.

And as for the girl? Perhaps they would simply leave her here when they left, ignored, forgotten, rewarded for her rash actions with the very thing she had sought: transport to somewhere else. She would receive her desire in that, but not in the way she expected. A good lesson, Tirdarius felt: few things were simply offered up the way you wanted them, and hope was of little good to those who lacked the power to alter their circumstances. In truth, marooning her to die on this world would be about as pleasant a fate as she could expect. They could do far worse: they could take you with them. A girl like her was little better than a slave in such circumstances: she was at their mercy, and they had to know it.

"Very few things turn out the way we imagine, girl," the Sith Lord instructed calmly, continuing to look past the miners that stood taut between them, the tension palpable in a way that he found rather amusing. "I doubt your travelling companions much expected to find someone already here, either."

Taking a step forward, the black-robed human made a casual gesture with one hand, extending forth invisible tendrils of dark energy to wrestle a blaster away from the one that had continued foolishly pointing it towards the girl, the weapon sailing across the void between them to land gently in the pale-skinned palm that was extended towards it. The human examined it for a moment, a faint smile curving his lips, then brandished it outwards with a relaxed expression.

"You know, whoever taught you to use this piece of absurd equipment forgot to teach you the first rule of their use," Tirdarius observed softly, gesturing with the blaster in the direction of the man that he had taken it from. A soft squeeze on the trigger with his finger, and a ringing shot fired out from the barrel, surging to strike the man in the kneecap with a loud crack, the soft smell of ozone emerging as a little smoke followed it. "You should never point a weapon at someone unless you intend to use it. May as well tell someone that you're going to hurt them."

A simple flick of the wrist and the blaster sailed out of his hands, clattering to the ground and then sliding across the black molten rock to fall into the bubbling lava stream beyond, vapourised by the heat, the bonds breaking down as it sunk beneath the surface and disappeared from view. He made no other aggressive move, though he knew well enough that a confrontation might ensue thereafter, now that he had made an overt attack on one of their own. And yet which of you would dare, knowing that I might dispose of you as easily as I disarmed your foolish friend? It was a question that would no doubt be answered shortly.

"If you're going to point weapons at someone, you should consider doing so at something more threatening than a girl so desperate as to stowaway with you fools," he continued conversationally, directing his words towards the miners. True, if one of them ended up shooting the girl, she would have deserved no less for her impulsive actions, but even so, they had their priorities wrong if they felt that was the right course here. "But we must discuss these 'mining rights' of yours. Oricon is not simply a scrap yard for you to rummage around in. I rather take exception to that."

 

[Progflaw99]

Lyra was forced to agree with the man, briefly recalling her past - nothing had ever gone quite like she imagined. The malnourished teen's gaze stayed bolted to the man beyond the two miners, it was as if everything else had suddenly become less important to her - irrelevant, inconsequential. It was evident that the man held some otherworldly power, she could feel the aura strongly. There was no mistaking it now, her eyes widened as the blaster was forcibly taken from the tall one's loose hold, mysteriously floating its way into the hand of their new arrival. The robed man spoke to these miners as if they were children, he their teacher... and then the shot rang out.

A loud cry of agony filled the air as the superheated bolt of plasma seared its way through the air and came into contact with the man's knee. Despite the miner's heat resistant suit, the blaster had burned itself through the thick fabric, resulting in a fairly significant wound. Dropping to the ground, the victim's hands instinctively reached for his knee. His companion, while wiser, was no less unlucky. Staring at his prone companion for a second, he turned to run, his fingers releasing the blaster he'd kept aimed low. Frantically he tried to escape, running anywhere but here. The suit he wore slowed him down as well as actively avoiding stepping in any errant magma flows. His mind had been cast into panic, enough to the point he wasn't even running towards the boarding ramp on his ship but instead into the inhospitable terrain of Oricon.

At the sound of the blaster discharging several of the other workers had turned their heads and dropped what they had been doing. A few hesitated, unsure of what had just happened, blankly looking at the man on the ground. Others began to draw at their blasters. Confused, their eyes traced towards the other of their number, now running from the scene as if demons themselves had spawned and now chased at his heels. The man who'd been shot in the knee screamed in agony, writhing on the ground as he clutched at the wound.

Lyra's senses became overwhelmed in that moment - everything around her became clear for a moment. She could feel the agony of the man on the ground, the fear and confusion of the men around her. It excited her, the strange sensation only growing stronger as she inhaled the thick acrid air of the planet Oricon. There was power here, power far beyond what she had just witnessed. Memories of the strange feelings and almost premonition-like experiences on Telos IV flooded her memory - this was the same, but so much clearer. She could feel her heart beating in her chest, a ragged breath ushered forth as she tried not to cough on the heated air. Through the euphoria of it all, she knew she had to make a choice. The man had disabled the other man for life with little less than a sneer, it was evident the weak would not survive this day - she however might stand a chance of survival.

Nervously the men rested their hands on their blasters but none were smart enough, or foolish enough, to draw them. The deck was stacked in their favor, at least by conventional counting method but they held back. Looking from one to another they silently shrugged responsibility, fear punctuating their hesitant glances to the now crippled miner. It went on like this for nearly a minute, till one of the weathered veterans of the Bilge Hammer stepped forward - presumably the Captain by the way he carried himself. The man sported a large beard, dark and thick it covered his face, sweat glistening in the orange glow of the volcanic world. Reaching up with a gloved hand, he unclipped his mask. Letting it fall from his face, his hand found the familiar grip of his oversize slugthrower before stepping forward. A deep and booming voice, the Captain addressed this man, casually glancing at his crewman before he spoke.

"So, seems you've put me out a crewman then." He mused. "We weren't aware that there was already an operation here - if you've got a claim to the land, we'll find elsewhere, if not - perhaps we can come to an agreement?"​

​

Lyra watched attentively, taking the distraction as an opportunity to lower herself from the pallet of machinery. Nimbly dropping from it, she took a few steps towards where the fallen blaster had been dropped by the frantic miner. Maybe it was because the miners all had their eyes fixed on the man that they didn't notice but Lyra's eyes were steadily set on the abandoned weapon.

[member="Tirdarius"]​

 

[Teynara Jeralyr]

| [member="Lyra Naerys"] |​

Ah, so now you wish to negotiate?, the Sith Lord thought with a faintly-amused smile curving his face, one which might have been taken as an amiable gesture had it not been for the vague sense of contempt that accompanied it, as though it was purely expressing disdain for those present. In some ways, he felt that was very much the case: here were thieves, bent on arriving here to steal that which was not theirs to take, the sort of scum that had thought to threaten a girl and even himself, seeing nothing more than a middle-aged man dressed in black robes. To threaten those who cannot pose a threat is not your best bargaining chip.

That several of the others present had now drawn weapons had not escaped him, but nor did he feel concerned by it. They were raising the stakes even after seeing him clearly disarm, the captured blaster having since disintegrated in the vaporising heat of the molten streams around them. Of course, several had seen how he had acquired it in the first place, and that should have been sufficient to make them realise that battle would run to a single sickening conclusion, but wit was evidently beyond them. Such a pity. We might have found an equitable solution. There was no real possibility of that now, he knew: if he offered them mercy, permitted them to remain, they would only wait until his back was turned to try and turn it to their advantage. Fairness doesn't exist in the minds of the greedy.

"If you're waiting for me to bring forth a flimsiplast deed, you'll be disappointed," he remarked coldly, staring at the one that was clearly the leader, the one best appointed to make decisions for the others. At least this one spoke with something akin to a level of civility: educated enough not to garble a simple sentence and make the words sound filthy. "We have but one rule among the Sith regarding your kind," he informed them, making his identity clear enough to all of them. "Profit is the reward of those strong enough to make themselves valuable to us."

He advanced on the leader with a strong, sturdy gait, moving towards the other with a predatory motion, each step a cold threat, full of evident intent, coming to a stop when the two of them were but a few hand spans away from each other. At least this one had the courage to remove his mask and face him like a civilised being, but that was not enough for a Sith to relent in purpose.

"This world is mine, and all upon it exists to serve the Sith cause," he remarked in a darkening tone, eyes narrowing in apparent anger, barely restrained even though not so much as a muscle on his face so much as twitched out of place. To his mind, these were child-threatening thieves, present only to serve themselves and their own credit accounts. The idea of being more than you are probably never occurred to you. Though the blasters at their sides perhaps suggested otherwise. "If you want that which you might find here, you will have to take my claim for yourselves."

It hadn't escaped him that the girl was making quiet moves in the background, doing her best to stay unnoticed. Amusing, being used as a distraction. There was some gumption there, an opportunistic tendency that had perhaps also been responsible for her exile to this absurd planet. Though when the fighting starts, she had best take the opportunity to stay out of it. The miners had no claims to innocence, but this one clearly had little idea of what she had gotten herself into the middle of.

 

[Progflaw99]

The bearded man stood fast, his hands coming to rest on his worker's harness. Various pouches and straps hung from the harness, most notably a large knife. Calmly considering the situation, the hulk of a man eyed the Sith. A weathered man, he'd heard stories of men and women belonging to strange cults, able to bend the will of space and time. Exaggerated, perhaps, but the reality of the situation before him was not lost. He knew there was but one way out of this if he wished to live. The Captain's dark brown eyes locked with those of the Sith, listening to his words and contemplating them carefully. As the robed man's words came to a close, the miner took a deep breath from his respirator before letting it dangle once more from his harness.

"I am not a foolish man by nature, but it seems fate has finally caught up with me." The bearded man took an almost conversational tone - one reserved for elder men, reminiscing about the past. "I'm a wolf, and I think you are too. " He paused, running his tongue against his teeth. "But I'm an old wolf. I know when I'm out of my depth."​

​

With a quick motion, faster than one might have guessed by his encumbered appearance, the man's gloved fist shot upwards, fingers gripping the hilt of the large blade. With a smooth motion of his thumb he unsnapped the leather holding it in place, inverted from his harness. A second motion, this one much smoother, the blade slipping free of its sheath and spinning on the man's hand, hilt towards the robed man. The Captain's eyes hadn't left the Sith's.

​

"Tell you what - between you and me. Let me live, and I will mine for you. I know your kind... Crystals hold value to you?"​

​

The blade rested in the miner's hand, his breaths heavy in the hot atmosphere of Oricon. Behind him, Lyra still moved. With the gracefulness of a cat, borne of her soon to be former life, she nimbly padded towards the blaster. The wounded man's screams and shouts had gone silent, all eyes fixated on the Sith before them. Lyra grinned. Scooping up the blaster she now looked for a route of escape. She could go back the way she had come but that would only grant her temporary safety. Bringing the blaster close to her chest, Lyra wrapped her fingers around its grip, slowly making her way around to the left. Avoiding several small potholes she began arcing her way around to put herself behind the robed man. She knew now without a doubt that he was her only chance at survival. The miner had said it himself, the only way off this rock was if the robed man permitted it. Crouching down behind a small outcropping of cooled black rock, she rested the long barrel of the pistol in a crack, watching, listening. She caught herself wondering what the robed man would do. Would he really accept the miner's offer? She knew little about the Sith - mostly boogeymen meant to keep children indoors at night, but this... This was power she could both see and feel. Briefly she felt the panic creep back in as a large spurt of lava erupted from the lake behind the men but she forced it back down, breathing deeply and letting herself give in to the Force.

She could feel it all around her, a living presence, punctuated only by their own existence in this place. She could sense the power surrounding the robed man and once again her eyes lingered on his form. She could feel the presence so clearly here and yet on Telos IV it had been but a whisper. As she opened herself to it, she could feel the power of it, giving her energy to stave off the heat. Even so she felt the warmth of the volcanic atmosphere, a warm breeze scattering ash through the air. Before she could help it, she felt herself begin to float, though not physically. It was as if she could feel a network through the Force, a shadowy realm in which rested embers of flame, some larger than others, some naught but the faintest of glows... and then she could feel it. Without intending to she had begun to feel through the Force and by doing so had been drawn towards the robed man's presence. At the faintest of touches her mind recoiled, almost sending her sprawling from her crouching place. If she had felt power before - this was something entirely different. This man, this - Sith - could not only feel the Force, he could command it. Narrowing her eyes as she watched, she eagerly awaited the robed man's response to the miner's offer.

[member="Tirdarius"]​

 

[Teynara Jeralyr]

| [member="Lyra Naerys"] |​

A simple offer, reasonably offered, but not one he was necessarily sure it was worth accepting. True, no Sith acted without first having a decent power base available to them: all had to construct their own domains to ensure that they had something beyond their own personages to fight with, and accumulating useful resources was ever part and parcel of such endeavour. Tirdarius had never been a wasteful individual, always believing that even the most mundane beings had a role to play in the grand plan, if only they might be steered towards it.

Yet their service was not the only consideration in play here: he could not be certain that they would hold to any agreement made between them, though only a fool thought to cross a Sith and survive the experience. Nor could he be certain they none of them would keep the Sith presence on Oricon a secret, a truth that would not simply be blurted out when one of them was deep in their cups in some seedy cantina off-world. He valued his privacy, and had little intention of seeing such a thing breached for no reason. Particularly to Jedi, who would come here to try and oust me. He had no intention of allowing that.

That the group leader had drawn a weapon and brandished it forth might have been taken for a threat - a more twitchy Sith might well have jumped into the fray then and there, perceiving an enemy to be neutralised or an obstacle worthy of domination and death. And yet he has not stepped forward to attack, merely offered a weapon in hope of acceptance. He could respect that, even though it was akin to a surrender: something no Sith would offer unless it offered them advantage in some fashion.

"To serve the Sith is no small thing," he observed calmly, ignoring the proferred blade, understanding that it might be put to deadlier use in time, but knowing that such was of little significance. "We do not sign contracts, offer simple words of agreement. Loyalty is our only demand." Many came expecting to treat the Sith as temporary clients, capable of directing funds their way with little concern about ethics of oversight, but that was ever a mistake. "But that loyalty is ever sealed with your lives. To betray it is to meet death."

True, he was not yet sure whether it might not be better to murder the intruding miners and push their ship to be dissolved into metallic slag by the molten flow around them, erasing all traces of their presence and preserving the secrets of his stay here. In some respects it was tempting, but such were the actions of more impulsively destructive Sith, not one who prided himself on being reasonable. It would all depend on whether they might come to terms.

And, of course, there was another loose end that was not truly associated with these fools: the girl. He had noted her surreptitious actions, the way she had acquired a discarded weapon that she likely had no experience using, had observed the silent means by which she had moved to place him between her and those that had threateningly brandished their blasters in her direction. Perhaps she thought that he might offer her protection, but she had no real cause to feel that. It was an interesting choice.

"And what of this one?", he asked, gesturing behind him towards the girl with a hand, a vacant wave that spoke little of commitment or interest. "She knows what you are, knows what you have done, smuggled away aboard your ship without you ever realising it." He smiled faintly in amusement at that fact, wondering whether it was a sign of capability on her part, or simple incompetence on theirs. "What fate would you leave her to?"

 

[Progflaw99]

The man's eyes never left the Sith's - though his mind was working, that much could be discerned. The Captain understood loyalty, and in some small measure, he missed it. The crew he now claimed were loyal, only insofar as the credits made their way into their hands. Already one had gone dashing off, where to who knew. Odds were he'd already managed to slip into a lava flow. The weathered man reached up with his other hand, once more pressing the device to his face as he breathed in deeply. Savoring the clean though metallic tasting oxygen he exhaled, nodding his head at the robed man's words.

Jale Senko had been in the mining business for years, decades even. Everything was done via contract. It was a way of life. While the man before him claimed the Sith lived not by contracts, he saw it for what it was - a contract in blood, and maybe even more. What choice did he have? On the one hand - it was likely he would be resigned to death if he could not prove useful to this Sith, on the other to bow the knee had never been something he found to be agreeable. It's part of what had landed him the Bilge Hammer in the first place, the ship a testament to his ambition and his hardiness while the others around him fell. Now, he was at the end of his rope and his fate was left solely in his hands... well, mostly.

The miner Captain lower the knife slowly, still clinging to the blade before casting a wayward glance towards where the girl had perched. He'd seen the girl shortly after her discovery but he hadn't thought much of it. Truthfully these men, while rough, were just trying to make a living. Sure, some of the miners he employed had criminal records, but nothing outstanding and he was honest about it, you weren't going to find tough men in soft places. Beneath the man's thick beard he chewed the inside of his cheek. As he pondered his options one last time, he formulated a solution to his present situation.

The girl. What to do with the girl? His mind had been shaken about, chewed up and spit out. One minute he'd been the proud captain of his own mining rig, now - he would be lucky to survive with his life. Even if he did survive, it wouldn't be the same. The old wolf knew the predator's game well enough, it was doubtful this Sith would simply let him leave in peace. Forcibly guiding his mind back on track he responded, the frustration he was feeling masked poorly in his tone.

"The girl." He nodded knowingly, an annoyed glance in her direction punctuating his statement. "We must have picked her up on Telos, but she is no concern of ours. Had she gone undiscovered we might have never even known she was there, escaped at the next port but now - I fear her fate is as sealed as our's."​

​

Lyra listened, watching the man. It was strange, being talked about when it was known that you could hear. She didn't much appreciate it. Narrowing her eyes she felt a small tingle in her fingertips, residual adrenaline from the short but intimate connection with the Force. She could still feel it around her but it wasn't calm, it was a raging inferno of energy now, swirling and spinning about. The girl bit her lip, adjusting her grip awkwardly on the blaster as she lined up a shot at the Captain. A voice in the back of her head began to whisper, thoughts of frustration now aimed directly at the source of her misfortune. She couldn't be angry at those she had run from on Telos, no... but this Captain. Why had the Captain been where he was, why had his ship been so convenient to stow aboard?

Slowly her fingers tightened on the blaster, her index finger subtly touching the trigger at first and then beginning to apply pressure. He was the reason she'd ended up on this world of magma and molten rock. She could feel it welling up inside her now, the anger. It had been unfair, her lot in life, the living on the streets, the fire. Fire. In that moment her mind froze - rather it burned. It burned with an intensity she'd not felt before. Something about this planet, about this place... It had unlocked something deep within. No, this wasn't just something inside of her, it was her.

Outside the scope of her vison, another miner had begun sneaking up behind her, Lyra's attention completely focused on the exchange of words between the two men standing face to face. Stealthily - or not so - the miner had reached within but two meters of the girl, her finger tensely holding pressure on the trigger of her retrieved blaster. A fraction of a second too late, she heard a scraping on the volcanic rock behind her. Letting out a shout of dismay, she slipped - or rather she was pulled from her perch. A fist of iron was clamped around her ankle as the miner tugged at her.

Several things happened at once just then, it seemed the second lasted forever for Lyra. Firstly she felt the tight grip on her ankle, her fingers clenching tightly - squeezing the trigger of the previously discarded blaster pistol. In that instant, her shriek pierced the air, the miner grinning wickedly as he watched her small frame bounce on the ground. Had Lyra not already been squeezing the trigger when she was grabbed, the shot might have been prevented but alas, such was not the case. As she began to fall the weapon discharged, a loud screech and hum of the heated bolt cutting through the relative quiet. The fates had been gracious, the fates had been cruel - today was no different. Whether an act of fate itself or 'dumb luck' the blaster bolt screeched past the Captain of the mining contingent rather than hitting him. Arms and legs flailing, Lyra kicked out, managing to hit the miner who'd dragged her from her perch right in the stomach, eliciting a quiet "Ooompff" from the man as he doubled over. Their struggle had just begun, the anger and frustration finally finding an outlet to release itself upon.

Where the pair of elder men stood - the situation was no less tense. The knife that had been so gently held became instantly gripped tightly by its hilt, the blade flicking up, ready for use. The wide semi-circle of miners now had procured their weapons, brandishing them at the small outcropping where the shot had come from, confused looks all around. The tension had been building and a stray blaster bolt had jolted them all into reactive states - the only problem is, they didn't know what to do.

Behind the outcropping, Lyra had gained her feet, hand resting on the black and porous rock at her back, brandishing the blaster at the miner who'd so gracelessly removed her from her spot. Reaching up and wiping a drop of blood from her newly split lip, she smiled at the miner, a strange glint in her eyes.

"Your move... big guy." ​

​

​

​

[member="Tirdarius"]​

 

[Teynara Jeralyr]

| [member="Lyra Naerys"] |​

The sudden screeching rapport of a blaster surged out from behind him, to reach forward and strike with shocking energy near the grizzled being that was facing the Sith, evidently a shot that had come forth from the struggle between the girl and the fool that had thought to sneak up on her. Tirdarius had been tracking them both with the senses gifted to him by the Force, that tiny voice that whispered silently in the back of his mind and granted a broader picture than these mundanes might ever possess. There were just over a dozen of them here, the tension palpable, their focus narrowing to that murderous fight-or-flight response that came when death descended on them closely. And soon shall be fed.

Weapons had come now to hands, and violence felt unavoidable - the sense that reason might prevail had evaporated the moment the blaster shot had rang out, adrenaline wiping away any sense that they may leave with no further harm. One of them had sought to assail the girl that they had already felt to strand here on a world that would offer her neither shelter nor mercy, knowing it would mean her death. And so you show your hand, and go too far. Tirdarius was a pragmatist, true, ever ready to accept the death of others or even to embrace his own if the situation demanded it, but to harm one that had done nothing other than seek survival was an evil he cared not to sanction.

A burst of lightning came forth, all the more startling for the suddenness with which it emerged, seemingly fired from the fingertips of the black-clad Sith Lord, crossing the gap between himself and the leader of the miners, seeking to burn a hole in the chest of a being that might otherwise have proven a reasonable servant. Those who would sanction the killing of a girl when there is no profit to it deserve neither mercy nor profit. He had the measure of those that would have sought to make a deal with him, preserving their lives in doing so - evidently they were only out for themselves, and would make poor servants. And those who will not serve well have no purpose.

The girl still had her own assailant to deal with, of course, and he would leave that one to her: if her will to survive was truly as strong as he suspected, she would come out the victor. If it was not, then she was of little purpose, perhaps as little as those that had now brought the wrath of the Sith upon themselves. Either way, she might consider it her first test: all that came under the gaze of the dark Force users would ultimately be required to do the same, to endure strife and trials, for only through their suffering and their understanding of it might they gain strength, learn to be free of it, even as every breath was agony.

Several blaster shots rang out - his attack on the leader had evidently led the others to conclude that their lives were in danger, and they reacted accordingly, weapons drawn and put to use. Several missed entirely, flying past him at a speed that no ordinary eye could track, sizzling in intensity. Others hit their mark, or would have done, had a meter-long bar of plasma not erupted forth from his hand to knock them aside, shrugged off by the dark-blue glow as though of little consequence. Several bounced back towards their source, striking at the blaster that fired them, or perhaps the being that pulled the triggers. It mattered little either way: their fate had been decided by their own foolishness.

One of the burly men leapt towards him, armed with a vibroblade that hummed with ominous threat, striking out with a view to kill this dark being that clearly cared little for their lives, perhaps to end the threat to them and claim the ship's captaincy for himself. Such a thought brought a dark smile to the lips of the Sith Lord, a predatory expression not reflected in those eyes, the irises now fiery, aflame with deadly intent, the reasonable grey having faded beneath that fire. He sidestepped the first strike and cut down at the man's exposed calf, the other's strike having been thrown too intently, with too much power to allow for easy recovery. The man cried out and reversed his cut, a wild strike that made contact with that dark-blue blade. The hum of the vibrosword changed pitch as the energetic blade cut through it with the ease of a hot knife through butter, slashing it in two, followed shortly by the body of its owner as the Sith Lord followed through with his parry, turning it into a cut that bisected the short-lived hero.

"I had hoped for so much more," he observed calmly, spinning in a light turn to bring the whine of blaster bolts to the front, his weapon turning by subtle motions to knock the shots out of the air. He gestured towards the panicky miners with one hand, a casual motion that contrasted sharply with the precise movements of his lightsaber. "You do but live on borrowed time now. Make the best of it."

 

[Progflaw99]

Their leader's body convulsed violently, naught more than a quickly fading gasp escaping his lips as his eyes rolled up into his head. The electricity cackled as it jumped across his fallen body before going limp. The rest of the miners had begun to figure out that their lives hung in the balance - though that would be suggesting that they stood a chance against the fury of the robed man before them. Smoking and sizzling, the flesh of the fallen Captain spurred them to action, blasters erupting in a cacophony of fire. As the Sith's blade weaved a path through the air, several of the miners gasped as they fell, blaster bolts reflected back to their origin. As their numbers began to drop, a pair of the miners broke and ran, heading towards the boarding ramp with all the speed they could muster despite their heavy suits.

Above the growing confrontation, on the other side of the small outcropping, Lyra's attention had been drawn by the heavy sound of laser fire over the ridge. Her eyes tracked up to her left - and then she realized her mistake. The minor distraction had given the miner she held at blaster-point just enough time to make his move. Dipping his shoulder low and pushing himself forward with all his weight he lunged towards the girl, arms outstretched. Lyra had miliseconds to respond but the distraction had cost her dearly - unable to turn to face him or react her tawny frame was slammed full force into the outcropping, breath crushed from her lungs as an audible "Oohmpf" escaped the man's open mouth. The dark ferrous rock was less than comfortable to bounce off of, the sharp edges cutting skin and drawing blood as the entangled pair fell onto the sloped ground.

Lyra's eyes frantically searched for the blaster, her ears hinting as to where it had gotten to as it clattered down the gradual slope towards the small lake of lava at its base. In an instant her world was spun around, both the man and girl tumbling and rolling down the incline. Letting out little more than a whimper each time they bounced across a particularly large bump. Lyra felt the pain of the impacts, her light frame taking a bruising as her body came into contact with the rocks over and over as they tumbled. Frantically she tried to scratch, kick, punch her way out of the man's now ironclad grasp to no avail - at a major size disadvantage, not to mention the man's thick clothing, there was only one option left to her. A sharp rock dug into her back as they bounced once more, the pain cutting through the fog that was her mind, focusing the anger that had flashed to the surface. Striking out with her fingers she gripped the man's face, scratching at his eyes as they rolled. It took a few attempts but as she felt the satisfying give of soft flesh she pushed, screams of pain escaping the man's lungs.

Forcing air into her lungs she could feel the power there, lurking just beyond the edge of her grasp... she wanted it. As she pressed harder into the man's eyes with her fingers his screaming intensified - she'd struck a nerve. Mustering all her strength she gave it all she had, letting loose her own shriek of anger and rage. As the man's body went limp, their tumbling slowed. Finally coming to a stop a mere meter away from the bubbling magma, the heat causing Lyra's skin to redden. In a final fit of rage she heaved the man's heavy body from atop her, sending him even closer to the molten lake. It took only a moment for the man to regain his senses, blood and fluid streaked across his features. Scrambling to her feet, Lyra felt the powerful emotions take hold, gripping her in a vice of its own - and as the man pushed himself up on one knee, an infuriated yell on his lips - she kicked him squarely in the chest.

With a stunned pause the man's body froze, tipping backwards and falling - right into the pool of red and orange magma. The edges of the man's suit were the first to burst into flames, the man's flesh beginning to sizzle under the unchecked heat of the lava now sucking the man in. Over 1160 degrees Celsius, the flow of lava cut through the man's protective clothing with ease. With little more than a sizzle and a whiff of smoke the man was gone, wiped from existence. Panting from exertion and sweltering heat, Lyra's eyes were opened wide in realization of what had just happened, her head swimming, stomach churning. Chastising herself she felt the heat of the lake of fire beginning to cause a blistering on her arms - forcing herself to action. Blinking hard she stepped shakily backwards, searching for the blaster that had fallen. Taking only a few seconds to locate, she spotted the blaster caught on one of those bumps the pair had hit on their way down. Scooping it up in her hands she made her way on hands and feet to the outcropping where she'd originally been to begin with, choosing instead to skirt around it. She arrived just in time to see a bear of a man emerge from the boarding ramp.

Standing nearly seven feet tall, the man wielded a giant metal rod, presumably a component in a much larger piece of machinery though it had a strange glimmer to it. Bellowing, he lifted the metal rod above his head vertically and proceeded to charge at the robed man, swinging down from above as if he were swinging a giant hammer. A roar shot forth from the man's lips, his rippling muscles evident. The force of his swing was significant. Taking a hasty breath, Lyra aimed as best she could, firing a few blasts at the man but the shots went wild. In exasperation she shouted towards the robed man, hoping he had seen the behemoth bearing down on him.

"Look out!"​

​

​

​

[member="Tirdarius"]​

 

[Teynara Jeralyr]

| [member="Lyra Naerys"] |​

The death screams that echoed through the Force as lives were extinguished sounded clearly to his mind, a sudden cessation, the way a loud noise that you had not previously noticed was suddenly silenced, leaving nothing but a faint echo behind as a remnant. It was a bright candle that had been extinguished, only the lingering memory of light and a wisp of smoke giving any indication that it had ever once been present. Each life taken diminished the Force, but also strengthened it, in a way, a contradiction he had long ago learned to embrace. To remove these beings from the equation was morally murky indeed, but it was not the wrong thing. He knew that with utter certainty.

Two of them made a break for it, much as he had expected, making an evident display of the priority to preserve their own lives over ending his. He could almost respect that - pragmatic survivalism was at the heart of Sith training - but it also ensured that they remained loose ends. That much would prove problematic, a thing left undone that might need to be corrected. But not my most immediate priority. Pragmatism demanded a focus on the now before it looked to future considerations, and he was not yet done with the battle at hand.

Several blaster shots rang out, fewer than the earlier firestorm, but sufficient to require him to protect himself, a whirl of his lightsaber batting the shot from the air and returning it to the one that fired it, a reflection that truthfully felt much akin to the many practice sessions he had experienced over the years. A silent death scream in the back of his mind reminded him that his actions came with consequences, both for himself and the one now silenced, but it was ever a pain he was willing to embrace: had to embrace, truth be told. No Sith could innure themselves from pain, and nor should they. To murder sentient beings as he was doing now was nothing short of evil, but it was also a natural necessity: those who were strong would survive conflict, those who were not could do little but perish.

Our only solace must be that, eventually, only the strong will remain, capable of self-determination and a fresh understanding of what life truly entails. That was the end of the Sith path: the time when civilisation would awaken from ennui and embrace that precious gift, taking each moment as an opportunity to grow and evolve, a directed step, not merely something stumbled upon. When that time came, the Sith would become obsolete: and they looked forward to it.

A new challenge approached now, though: descending from the boarding ramp was a hulk of a man, poorly armed, fiercely minded, destructive intent evident in the thoughts that he simply wasn't capable of guarding from a Sith. He stepped in quickly, a rush that was undoubtedly meant to unbalance the shorter of the two, a wild powerful swing of an impromptu weapon something intended to crush his skull, perhaps, or disorient him enough to allow the bigger of the two to exact deserved retribution. Such an amusing notion. Tirdarius could scarcely blame him, of course.

Lightsaber deactivating and returning to his belt as the Sith stepped aside, allowing the swing to bypass him, Tirdarius raised a hand, slender finger curling inwards in a gripping motion, extending outwards with the rippling energies of the Force to create a mimicry of the gesture, invisible tendrils wrapping themselves around the hulking brute's throat and squeezed, the Force matching the motion with every millimeter of pressure. The Sith's eyes had changed overtly now: gone were the stormy-grey irises, offering stern rebuke. In their place were fiery orbs, orange, reds and yellows glowing with a dark and dangerous intent, fury radiating from the Sith in the way that steam radiated from the cooling rocks around them.

"All your strength, all your aggression, and it amounts to less than nothing," he said contemptuously, his fingers arching inwards with a relentless grip, the man now lifted helplessly off the floor by a force he could neither see nor comprehend, only knowing that it was slowly squeezing the life from him. "Strength not tempered with wisdom or restraint is useless. Recognise this now: the last lesson you'll learn from your wasted life."

 

[Progflaw99]

The remainder of the ill-fated miners had begun to fully recognize the situation for what it was to become - a slaughter. Lyra, from her perch, could practically taste the fear in as they watched their overtly large compatriot charge the robed man. With his powerful swing she hesitated, how could the man possibly deter such a powerful swing - and with a seemingly small action stepped aside, the loud clang of the rod hitting the ground filling the air. She could see the man's face pull tight into a grimace as the vibrations stung his hands, and then the rod went clattering to the ground. The larger man's eyes bulged slightly, a cough struggling forth as he visibly tried to figure out what was happening. His fingers twitched, reaching up at his throat as if to claw away a vice - to no avail.

Lyra's brief encounter with the robed man's consciousness was but a drop of the power she now felt emanating from the figure, the still impassive wall now turned to flame and fury. She could almost feel the struggle of the choking man, the taste of iron slowly spreading in her mouth as he began to physically struggle against the force gripped around his throat. The Sith's words thundered in her ears, surprisingly clear despite the distance between them. She could feel the blood rush to her ears, steady beats suddenly picking up speed as she could feel the energy building up, the man's eyes bulging further as he began to claw at his flesh, scratches forming and blood beginning to flow as he fought to free himself from the Sith's invisible grasp. As the intensity of the beat increased, the man's body began to rise, weight lifting off his heels and onto his toes till they too were removed from the black rock. Hanging there in the air his body jerked, legs kicking against an unseen force. The man's lips now turning to blue, his eyes filled with blood, his hands began to lose coordination, falling limp to his sides as the darkness closed around him.

As the man entered his final death throes, feet kicking out and finding no purchase, an exasperated sigh slipped between his slightly parted lips - a grimace permanently etched across his features. Lyra felt it the moment his life vacated the flesh and bone that had been his body, the surge of power in the air around her and as she did she noticed one miner had fallen to his knees, a desperate and crazed expression on his face. From the black dust on his attire she guessed he'd tripped, likely caught his foot in a small depression in the uneven ground and gone sprawling. Now he just sat there, hands hung limply at his sides, eyes beseeching the girl for mercy - the power over life and death was intoxicating. The heart beat in her ears grew, her own pulse quickening as she took a step towards the kneeling man, the barrel of the blaster rising several centimeters. Another step, another few centimeters.

As she closed within two meters of the man the blaster now pointed directly at his chest. He'd raised his hands, tears forming at the corners of his eyes though they evaporated in the heat of the planet before they could roll down his narrow cheeks. His mouth opened but no words escaped, his hands trembling as they stood outstretched towards the girl. For a fraction of a second she hesitated - then the screech of the blaster cut through the air. A look of shock and surprise adorned the miner's face as his eyes darted downwards, clearly unsure of how to react to the smoking crater that had been his chest... and then came the pain. Again Lyra could almost taste it in the air, the man's struggle to scream only further fueling the unchecked anger and rage filling her. Unceremoniously she fired again - and again, two more blasts knocking the man backwards. She was enjoying this. Stop. She was enjoying this? A cold blanket of horror descended upon her like a sudden summer rain. Her eyes which had been a deep blue had briefly shone amber but as the realization dawned on her they faded - assuming their aqua coloring once more. As the man's body fell to the ground a high pitched ringing noise filled Lyra's ears, her touch with reality slowly fading as her senses honed in on her surroundings. Blood. Fire. Death. Even now she could see what she'd done, kicking the man into the lake of molten rock, killing the man who'd been helpless before her.

The blaster held in her hand clattered to the ground, the teen standing there, shocked. Several meters away, one of the miners had managed to get the engines started up, the oval engine pods roaring to life as the boarding ramp began to ascend. They'd given up any hope of fighting their way out of this - the only thing left was to escape.

[member="Tirdarius"]​

 

[Teynara Jeralyr]

| [member="Lyra Naerys"] |​

​

As the miner's throat collapsed in and his final breath left him in a gurgle, the Sith Lord released his telekinetic hold over the corpse, allowing it to drop bonelessly to the ground, to collapse there in a lifeless heap, a simple mockery of what had once been a living being. The others were running, and that much was understandable and yet an act of utter cowardice, prudent though it might have been. There was little hope for them here - certainly none that might be spared for their survival if they remained. The hum of the engines on their ship powering up would no doubt offer them a short sense that perhaps their lives might remain their own for a while longer, and that was as much as might be hoped for.

Another blaster shot rang out, this one not directed towards him, nor from the ship that they were so desperately trying to spin up, preparatory to an urgent, desperate departure. It came instead from behind him, where he had last seen the girl. Perhaps she had met her fate at last, prolonged for a little while, but put an end to by one of those unscrupulous fools that had thought to simply abandon her to a slow death on a world inhospitable to life. A pity if true, but all life eventually had little choice but to surrender to death, and a blaster bolt was a faster means than most.

Turning and striding towards the sound of blaster fire - and now there were multiple shots ringing forth - Tirdarius prepared himself for the eventuality that he would now have to confront the one responsible for the child's death, which was ever an atrocity, irrespective of how and when such a thing was done. The scene that greeted him was not what he had expected: the body of one of the environment-suited miners lay at his feet, several blast patterns spread indiscriminately on his chest as though a single shot had not been sufficient. Across the way...the girl, her hand outstretched, a blaster at her feet, smoke still curling upwards into the sky from the muzzle.

Shock was evident on her face, and reaching into the Force, he could sense it present within her mind, a numbing sensation that might spread, slowly trying to dampen the intensity of what she had seen and experienced. That might help her forget what she had done. This was at least the second life he knew she had taken, both likely in her own defense, given what they might have done to her had she not, but cold rationality meant little in the face of the realisation that you had taken a life. To end one's consciousness in permanence was no small thing to absorb.

"It seems you are all I have left to deal with now," he remarked coldly, grey eyes observing her dispassionately, offering no sympathy of expression, even though it was perhaps something she deserved now. "The others are all dead now, or fleeing for their lives." He smiled faintly at that, a darkly-amused mien, one that accounted for those that were powering up their ship with a view to escaping. "In short order, you and I will be all that remains living upon the surface of Oricon."

The others would live, a reward for their survival instincts, the need to preserve their own lives standing above the need to fight back. And we must always encourage rationality in others. They had not chosen to take revenge or throw their lives away on a gamble, but rather had chosen to live. He could not fault that: and they would take their lives and be grateful that he had allowed them to keep them. Perhaps they might tell others of the darkness on Oricon, to avoid it and stay clear. Which serves my purposes better than a few more corpses.

As for the girl...to kill her might be a mercy, to take away her pain forever, allow her to return to the Force and the sweet oblivion it offered in the embrace of death. But her own actions had forbidden this: she had fought to cling to life, even though there was little hope of it here. Had she killed them all herself, she would remain stranded: unable to use their ship to leave, unable to survive out here on the surface. Perhaps she might have holed up in the vessel, eaten her way through their supplies, used up all their oxygen, but that would have simply been a slower death. Had they left without her, she would die, exposed to the elements. She had no hope of surviving longer than a few weeks, and yet she had clung to that desire tenaciously. He could respect that.

"If you intend to survive much longer, you would do well to follow me," he informed her, turning away from the girl, knowing she had but two choices now: to obey, or to be left here to die with the ones she had murdered in turn. "My home is not far. It's about the only place left for one such as you to find shelter of any sorts."

With that, he turned away, returning his lightsaber deactivated to the belt at his waist, and started heading across the black molten rock fields to the fortress that stood nearby, ignored by the ones that had died so close to it, but all that remained that might offer respite to the two who remained living.

 

[Progflaw99]

Lyra was jarred from her moral paradox, her now cool blue eyes locking onto the only man left standing. The engines of the fleeing ship flared one final time before with a loud grinding noise it lifted itself into the air. Seconds later it had begun its way upwards, climbing towards the upper atmosphere of Oricon. The man at her feet forgotten for the moment she narrowed her eyes at the man - she had seen what he was capable of and she knew without much effort that she too carried at the very least an inkling of that power inside herself. The girl had felt it swell, unbidden within her very soul, rising to the surface as she fought for her life, and then took life. Still it was there but muted, a desire for more growing. Listening to the man's words, she slowly looked around at the carnage they had wrought. She saw he was right, lifeless bodies littered the ground, no doubt they would be consumed by the elements in due time.

As she looked into his eyes, she felt nothing though a hint of a smile had passed quickly as he continued. Raising a fist to her mouth she stifled a cough. The atmosphere of Oricon was breathable - yes, but most definitely not healthy unless you were equipped properly whether with the Force or a respirator. As she fought the queasiness building up in the pit of her stomach the words he spoke echoed in her ears like a resounding gong. "In short order, you and I will be all that remains living upon the surface of Oricon." He wasn't wrong. Casting her eyes upon the bleak horizon she noted just how barren this world really was. Molten rock, magma flows, even a range of volcanic mountains in the distance, and everything was dark. The rocks, the sky, soot clung to the earth like a veil.

As silence hung briefly in the air, a creeping thought had wormed its way into her head - what now? She'd managed to survive, that much was true but now that the only ship she might have hoped to once again stow away on had gone she was left with nothing. The Sith before her seemed to offer her another option, follow him if she wished to continue to survive. She'd seen the power he commanded - equal parts curious and afraid she chewed her lip, what else was she going to do? She knew without even searching that there would be no other way off this rock and perhaps this was finally a chance to learn more about this power. She had so many questions.. but she held her tongue as the man turned. Hesitating momentarily she forced down another cough, briefly looking at the fallen bodies. Locating what she was looking for, she nimbly hopped over to where one of the fallen miner's lay, a face respirator hanging loosely from his webbing. Snatching it and pressing it to her face she breathed in deeply, the filtered air tasted of soot but it was clean. Looking to where the man had begun to walk away she shuffled her feet, reaching down with her free hand and snatching up a blaster which she promptly tucked into her waistband. Putting left foot in front of right, she jogged to catch up, wondering just how far it was they were about to travel.

[member="Tirdarius"]​

 

[Teynara Jeralyr]

| [member="Lyra Naerys"] |​

Now that the death screams had faded in his mind, his eyes faded in their fiery cast, the energies of the Force moving to a more restful state within him, though they never truly slept, ever on the move. Grey irises observed the carefully-concealed fortress that stood ahead, built into the molten rock but well protected from it, artificial construct blending with volcanic debris, easily missed if you did not know to look for it, as the miners had not. A warmth of the magma flow that moved through the underbelly to dive off the cliff face assailed him now, hot enough to boil flesh and incinerate bone were one to touch it, if only you could be so careless or so brash.

Tirdarius could sense the girl following, not looking back once to ascertain as much, recognising that her only other choice was a slow death upon the surface: a simple enough choice, perhaps, if she knew what might yet lie ahead for her. True, he could arrange passage off-world for her, find her a place where she could live peacefully without the tumult that had so defined his own life, but the Force was not idle in expressing its whims: she was here for a purpose of one sort or another, and he would not simply dismiss that as idle coincidence. Not when she has survived when so many older and more experienced failed to.

True, that was in part a consequence of his own choices: she might easily have been consigned to the simple deaths suffered by the others that had been her travelling companions, her body left to the harsh environment of the outside world, had he but chosen that fate for her. Even now, that was a possibility: he might simply reach out and snuff her life out like a candle extinguished by a stiff breeze. It could not be denied that much of it was her doing, though: there had been several moments where to submit to death might have been the easier choice, and she had yet persevered. And will need that, to survive what comes next.

A door cleverly concealed in the rock opened at his approach, a gentle hiss all that announced the parting of the metallic portal, a wave of cooler air emanting from the opening, welcome relief from the oppressive heat that scorched the face of the planet. He stepped within, onto the metal platform that rested beneath his boots, and waited for the girl to join him. Once she had, the doors sealed shut and the decking shot upwards at speed, propelling them into the tower proper, no longer restrained to the molten surface below.

"You have chosen your companions foolishly in the past," he observed cooly, as though they had been discussing the weather all this time, not walking away from a battlefield of their own making, mutual survivors in a moment of strife. "I suppose now you have little choice in the ones that remain to you, since we are alone on this planet." The thought was amusing: her impulsive actions had led her to the one place where they would never again be a problem.

The turbolift came to an abrupt halt as another set of doors opened on a spacious room, lit with soft white light, gentler than the harsh reds and oranges that were the natural colours of Oricon. The room was best described as austere: there was little in the way of true decor, the deep blue stone of the walls and floor soothing, a sole transparisteel window on the right side of the room all that provided contrasting colour. A blackened desk of some unknown wood stood against the far side, but a few small articles of note resting upon the surface, a large chair on one side with several others resting opposite.

Striding over to the desk, the Sith Lord reached for a jug of clear liquid and poured some into a long fluted glass, clearly made of some precious crystalline material. Once it was nearing the brim, but not so much so that a simple motion might make it spill onto the spotless floor, he extended a hand and offered it to the girl. She simply hadn't the conditioning to make exposure to Oricon a simple matter, and doubtless deprivation had become familiar to her, stowed away aboard that rough mining vessel.

"I wonder what darkness you felt you were escaping from, to bring yourself to a place such as this," he remarked, stepping around the desk to take a seat in the comfortable chair that rested behind it, observing the girl with unblinking grey eyes. "So few descend from the purgatory of a dismal life to the hell that is my chosen home," he said with some amusement evident in his voice. "Do you have a name, little stowaway?"