Taco Hutt, Korriban

[Noah Bright]

There was a buzz, a whip, then a flicker. Then the com died. ...Huh?

"Welp. Guess it wasn't just his camera's getting eaten out here. Bugger me."

Noah spit at the ground and gave himself a moment to think. Hmm. What to do. What to do. If the ol' Hunter was really dead? Yeahhh... Poo.

"Ah. Right. The bike."

He smiled to himself with a shake of his finger.

"I'll go back to his abandoned bike and look for clues. Should kill an hour or two. Sh'maybe?"

Bright decided to stay busy while Enigma remained off the radar. Hopefully the Hunter would reappear. Otherwise? Noah might just have lost the trail for good. Damn.

[member="Neivon"]

 

[Neivon]

Who the frak designed this place? The dashade never knew something could have so much corridors and walkways. How did anyone ever found their way through this? The dashade came to a different route. Unlike the one he took thus far, there was hardly much detail in it. Few to no chiseled features, it was no more than a typical cave. Perhaps it was a short cut towards finding the end. Perhaps not. Didn't really matter to the dashade as long he didn't have to continue to see such... refined things. He hated distractions, and such nice looking architecture was one of them. He shook his fleshy head. He was becoming distracted. With a curse in dashadi, he entered the more cave-like route.

For once, things had been convienent for him. For once he's been awake for so long. Not even the time when he tried to fight that Sith back on Dxun was he able to stay awake. It surprised and angered him that he was still alive. It annoyed him on how much he truly misses whenever he goes into these chronic slumbers. He didn't even know why they happen. He tried spitting on the ground, realizing he was wearing a helmet. With disgust he tried quickly taking it off, wiping the saliva onto the floor. It would certainly be hard to get used to this retched body... With a growl and numerous wipings, he put the helmet back on. Continuing upon this differed path.

[member="Noah Bright"]

 

[Noah Bright]

Bright approached the sunburnt speeder and sighed. It had been sitting in this exact spot for, what? Five days now. Not the best of leads.

"Here goes nothing."

Noah knelled down and checked the bike. It was still full of gas. Interesting. It was also well maintained. Okay, sure. He checked the mileage, the sit, the fit, and the saddlebags. Nothing was out of order.

"Well. If he didn't run out of gas? Then maybe this isn't just any parking spot."

Bright frowned and looked around. There was only one landmark. A dead tree with thorn bushes growing up around it. Nothing much else in sight.

"Hmm."

The old spy moved to the tree and circled it. Finally stumbling upon a wooden hatch. Half-concealed by desert sand.

"Bingo. I kinda figured this wasn't just ANY parking spot."

The hatch was painted with a tribal symbol. Worn and very old. It wasn't locked either. So Noah pulled open the hatch and looked down into the crawlspace. Sure enough. It was a sandstone cellar. Narrow stairs leading down into the dark. It made him smile and reach for his com,

~ "R2. Bring me the ship. I'll need a re-equip. Looks like I'm going spelunking, after all. Heh." ~

...

One hour later, Noah was deep underground. Surrounded by the bright sandstone tunnels of an ancient crypt. Small tunnels. Square and very strong. Noise echoed for quite a ways and Bright was starting to notice he wasn't alone down here either. He recognized it first by the smell. This was a Grog cave. Goblins. Nothing more than semi-intelligent refuse. ...Great.

He hefted his carbine and checked the underbarreled flamethrower. It was good. His helm was running in Nightvision Mode. Doing his best not to get lost. Remembering the mission.

"Okay. So our boy found this long tunnel. But... Where did it take him? Heh. Guess I'll find out."

The hunt for answers had only just begun.

[member="Neivon"]

 

[Neivon]

The dashade looked angrily around a simple hollowed out area. A dead end. Why would it be here if it was only to waste his time? He stepped into the cave-like area, hums could be heard as Tuk'atas stepped from the shadows. It was again, another trap. But the Dashade smiled, Sith Spawn. They will give him amply challenge; not the kind he hoped for, but good enough. The dashade swung the electrostaff as the hounds leaped towards him. They were sent flying as the electricity from the staff made contact with the Sith Spawn. The dashade then charged one of them, one shaft of the electrostaff heading straight towards it's head as it was recovering. The tuk'ata recovered as another tackled the dashade's back. If he still wasn't used to this new body, he would've fallen over, but that wasn't the case. Although he did lose some of his balance, he did recover quickly as he ducked beneath the creatures, causing them to hit each other's head. Winding the beasts.

They were nice game for the dashade, but no more than that. They didn't even represent a challenge with the dashade. He used a ritual, feasting on their darkside energies before he turned back, away from this dead end. Why was nothing ever simple in these things?

[member="Noah Bright"]

 

[Noah Bright]

It was a large cavern. Some kind of exit out from the crypt complex. The air held a tint of mist and hint of moisture. Uncommon for this entire planet really. So I guess it meant water was nearby. Somewhere.

There was modern equipment thrown about the area. Ransacked and rummaged through. A broken radio here. A dozen crates over there. Broken plates on a scratched wooden table. The usual. Oh, and there was blood too. Not fresh. But old and brown. The kind that may have attracted predators once. But not anymore. However, none of that was what Noah was looking at right now. He was eyeing the human body parts.

"Hmm. Hands... Feet. Clawed, broken, and crunched. Definitely the site of a beast attack. Some human victims, others alien. Blood and black cultist robes. Exotic daggers and basic blaster parts. Yeah. This has got to be a scouting station for our little boys cult friends. All dead though. Most probably food. ...Hmm. And nobody with red skin and black tattoos. Damn."

Maybe his prey had been eaten? That wouldn't leave much evidence. Blast. Hard to say.

"Better look around more."

...

Twenty minutes later, Noah had found a datapad with some of the cultist's information. Inside he'd found a map of their cavern complex. He located what appeared their Inner Sanctum and decided that was where he'd go next. See if he could talk to the boss. Or... You know. Interrogate him.

"Welp. It's not much to go on. The hike from here to there should take a few minutes too. Man... I really hope our boy is still alive. I'm not getting paid enough for this kind of kark."

He shouldered his guns and stepped back into the sandstone underground. After all. He had a cult of morons to find.

[member="Neivon"]

 

[Neivon]

There were more obstacles that slowed the dashade down, rage was slowing bubbling inside him. Why doesn't anyone want to just hand themselves to the dashade? No point living, nothing had escaped the dashade in his past years. Jedi, Sith, whatever you wanted to call them. Perhaps he should get back to mercenary work, or at least figure out how to stop these comas. The dashade frowned, it felt weird being able to do that, his species wasn't supposed to have so much facial movement. Even a smile felt weird. With an agitated grunt, the dashade went down a set of spiral stairs, with his eyes set on a tent before him. Lights shown brightly amongst the place. Stuff was scattered around, as if someone left in a hurry. But that didn't fool the dashade, he felt darkside energies. And thanks to the consumption of those Tuk'atas the energies were much more potent.

The dashade stood, awaiting an ambush, but nothing happened. He pushed the button on the electrostaff, causing it to hum to life. He was much more used to using vibroswords but guessed this body was probably best used for these staff-like weaponry. The dashade heard the hum of a vibroknife zipping past his head. Seemed these fools wanted to play hide and seek. Unlucky for them, the dashade was an unbridled champion out the game. With a battle-cry, the dashade began tracking where these fools hid themselves, perhaps they were too weak for his hunt. Didn't matter. The thing the dashade didn't notice, was that there were many more tents, with many more people; all waiting to jump this adversary.

[member="Noah Bright"]