Keruk Desric
Mandalorian Crusader
A resounding thud reverberated through the cave. “And we are in!” the man yelled switching off his cutting torch as he descended into the inky depths of the massive ship through the hole he had just created. The others scrambled to follow him, eager to find what they’d come for.
The first man in turned on his helmet lamp, illuminating a dilapidated, gray-green hallway. When he saw that his companions were following, he began to slowly trudge through the corridor. Alien bodies littered the floor, some still clutching their ancient blasters while others held odd shaped, double bladed swords. The frost had become a substitute for skin and muscle giving the corpses a meager illusion of the lives they once had.
He entered into a massive room, so large in fact that his light barely illuminated the opposite wall. Here stood dozens of aliens, frozen, (both by ice and a carbonite like substance,) in mid battle, almost as a testimony to the great mêlée that had taken place here long ago.
[SIZE=12pt]The man slowly surveyed the scene, skirting around the middle of the ominous display as if he was searching for something. A cracking sound echoing throughout the chamber as the man’s foot landed on something fleshy. Quickly looking down at the object that had been stepped on he found it was a dark, brown, leather boot of a forgotten make. The man speedily raised his light to where he assumed the owner’s head would be, revealing a skull that made his blood run cold.[/SIZE]
Recovering from his initial shock, the man inspected the skeleton who was seated upon an ornately carved throne. It’s clothing, like the boot, was of a bygone era, invoking thoughts of the days when the lightsaber was considered inadequate when compared to the sword. Once rich robes hung like scraps of skin from its wasted frame. It held in one knobby hand an archaic rifle and judging by the radius of the carbonite spewed on the walls and people, the man guessed that this weapon was a carbonite projector. The gnarled fingers of the corpse’s other hand were tightly clasped about a red and bronze pyramid like object .Black markings similar to the trails of worms were scrawled across nearly every one of its facets.The man seized hold of the artifact trying in vain to break its owner’s frozen grip. Cursing under his breath, he ordered his crewmates to bring in the heater. They complied and soon the ice incasing the ancient corpse began to drip. “We need more heat,” he said. “If we damage the prize our employer will have our hides… and tell Eddy to hail our contact, tell him that we need an appraiser.” They departed, one to contact their ship and the others to get some flares.
When they returned, they found their comrade laying in a pool of water at the feet of the corpse, (whose bony face, they now noticed, was a terrifying mixture of rage and rapture,) his neck broken .Quickly deciding that their late companion had only slipped and fallen in the melted ice, the second man reached forward and grabbed the artifact. This time, with a snap of breaking bones it came free. Holding it up to the light he smiled. With the amount of credits they would earn from this haul they would live like kings, and the death of their companion would only serve to sweeten the pot. Stepping over the body of the first man he exited the vessel, returning to their makeshift camp. Later, after one last dreary meal, the crew promptly drifted off to sleep, eager for daybreak when they would depart this sorry chunk of ice and return to the core worlds.
The next morning, they awakened to find the second man gone. At first they thought that he had run out on them, keeping the artifact for himself. But on closer inspection, they discovered two sets of foot prints sunken deep into the snow, leading both to and from the crashed ship. Following the tracks back to the chamber they found him laying beside the first dead crewman, his neck also twisted and broken, and the artifact once again in the skeleton’s hand. They took one look and ran screaming to their air speeder only to find it smashed and inoperable. “What do we do now?” the third man desperately asked the forth. Receiving no answer from his friend, he turned around looking this way and that, but he was nowhere to be seen.
Now driven mad by fear, he ran back to the ship, racing down the hallway, heedless of the cracking bones of the aliens that he trod upon. Once in the chamber, he frantically blocked up the passageway with whatever he could find. After piling up frozen bodies, ancient weapons, and chunks of rubble, he finally collapsed, huddled in one corner, drained by his efforts, mumbling over and over to himself that he would be ok. Suddenly, a large gauntleted hand seized him by his shoulder. He looked up, screaming in terror as the assailant became apparent, a tower of a figure, obscured by the darkness. As the form throttled him, he let out a gurgling cry, then silence, as his body fell limp and lifeless.
They had awakened something that the galaxy was woefully unprepared for.
__________________________
Word has spread throughout the underworld (and even making its way to less sordid elements) that there is a group in need of an appraiser for a Sith Holocron. Their location is an unnamed Ice planet in the outer rim, and by the message they’ll pay a high figure for aid. While the need is only for appraiser(s), it is hard for others to ignore the chance of acquiring a Sith Holocron, even if one must go through some undesirable ploys to get it…
