That Is Not Dead Which Can Eternal Lie [ The Primeval ]

[Armand Temi]

Objective B: Interrogate Sith Acolytes on the location of a rogue Sith Lord
Allies: [member="Kael Kessler"] [member="Tyro'din"]
[SIZE=13.63636302948px][member="Anja Aj'Rou"][/SIZE]


Once the two initiates exited Darth Phokus’s office, the black-robed male student took them down the stone hallway and then ushered them to a downward spiral of stairs that went down three floors. “There is a turbolift but the Master thinks we should all be in peak shape and encourages the stairs for every journey. Don’t you agree?” he asked in a haughty voice. Perla stayed silent but fleetingly wondered if she could trip him down the stairs using the Force. We'll see about peak shape after that, she thought. This student wasn’t half as groveling now that he was not in the Massassi Master’s radius. Kael Kessler kept the pace with her but he was uncharacteristically silent, perhaps afraid of the threat of execution they faced today.

Once the three reached the bottom level, where the floors and walls felt considerably colder, the human took them into a small room absolutely filled with what Perla could only imagine were torture devices. The human explained, “Yes as you are gathering these are where we keep instruments of interrogation. Feel free to use any one of these tools. We have droids, we have chemicals and there are even some Vong specialty creatures that you can use.” Perla wanted to ask him a question but he continued. He sure was a chatty one, this student. “Of course my recommendation is to interview Darth Phokus’s students first to find out what they are afraid of and then pick your interrogation tool to cause maximum psychological distress as well as maximum pain.”

Perla ran her hand over a deactivated Agonizer-6 nerve disruptor and turned to face the student. She tilted her head coyly at him and said, “If that recommendation doesn’t work very well, is it okay if I let Darth Phokus know that it was your idea?” The human gave her a weak smile and said, “I’m merely trying to help. You do want to be successful in this trial?” The student obviously knew that there was no choice for Perla or Kael – they had to find Darth Phokus’s rogue student or they would leave the Academy either in a bodybag or be left in one of the basement prison cells to rot away.

 

[huggin_munnin]

Objective A
Allies: [member="Condor"]

Ceska continued down the main corridor of the Tomb, finding nothing but dust, cobwebs and a persistent dead Sith smell. 'I suppose this would be interesting if I were an archeologist...and I could see' she thought with irritation. Finally, came an arch that led into a larger chamber of some kind. Ceska turned her head slowly, seeing through the Force where her eyes were almost blind. Nothing...wait...towards the end of the....

"Fething...," began Ceska who was cut off by a massive roar. She could feel it's immensity even without her powers, so huge was the Tarentatek. Without looking she thumbed her lightsaber on and it's blue blade bathed the chamber in a faint light. There it was, the massive, Rancor-like beast standing over three meters tall.

Taking up her weapon in both hands, Ceska's drew upon the Force. Her fear fed the Dark Side, and she spoke up to her temporary ally.

"So...any ideas?" said Ceska, faintly.

 

[Gorba the Hutt]

Objective B
Allies: [member="Perla Pirjo"] | [member="Kael Kessler"] | [member="Tyro'din"]

A hover chair holding a rather fat cephalopod floated out from a dark corner of the presumed torture chamber. Several sets of eyes set on stalks swiveled from one individual to the next, murky green depths void of anything like compassion or even anger. Only an aroused sense of intrigue rose from the Iyra's force aura.

That and a mild irritation. This arid climate was abysmal for his skin. Bal'gul's tentacles wriggled sluggishly. He had over six. But these foolish quadrupeds would never understand that significance.

"Hellooooo," he burbled, voice muffled and wet.

 

[Condor]

Location: Sith Tomb
Allies: [member="Ceska Starshield"]
Enemies: Whatever that kriffing thing is
Objective: Subdue angry beast
___________________________________________________________________________-
The terentatek, now eliminated by both the Padawan's lightsaber and Condor's headlamp, loomed over the duo. Its roar shook the ground, threatening to collapse the tomb on top of the two of them. Condor glanced around him quickly and saw what he feared. The room was a chamber, but nowhere would he be out of range of the terentatek's claws. Even so, he only had about 30 seconds of fuel in the jetpack, so flying wasn't much of an option. That left the most logical choice: shooting the damn thing,

Without hesitation, Condor stepped back and shifted his rifle up, unloading a stream of lasers at the beast. The armored exterior of the terentatek absorbed most of the damage, but he now he had its attention. Hopefully the padawan could sneak around behind it. He unhooked a grenade from his belt and let it cook for a couple of seconds before tossing it at the terentatek's feet.

The explosion rocked the room as dust and silt filtered down from the ceiling. The shockwave of the explosion knocked sand up from the floor and pushed Condor back a little bit. A black smoke engulfed the creature, and Condor fired into it, knowing that one measly grenade wouldn't take down the beast. He moved carefully around the chamber, trying to get the terentatek to focus its attention on him and not the padawan.

 

[huggin_munnin]

Objective A w/[member="Condor"] vs. Angry Tarentatek

The merc unloaded his rifle into the hulking beast and Starshield understood what he was trying to do. As his frag grenade went off, she became a blur through her Force Speed, flanking the Tarentatek and coming at it from an angle. Her blade arced in a powerful horizontal slash aimed at the nightmarish beast's tree trunk leg. It merely scored the thick outer hide and it screamed in rage, swiping a massive claw at her.

It was only her preternatural reflexes that saved her as she leapt away, avoiding the razor claw by less than a meter. She knew that she could ill afford to be struck, for even a casual blow would disembowel her. Unfortunately, the same could not be said of her lightsaber. The kriffing hulk's hide must have been ridiculously thick to resist a lightsaber like that, she thought. Without taking her eyes off of the beast she shouted to Condor.

"Have anything stronger, the fething thing's almost made of phrik!"

 

[Lucullus Lacar]

Location: Low orbit over Korriban
Objectives: A/C

Lacar leaned back in his command seat, right hand idly toying with the joystick in control of his frigate. He commenced his routine checks of the ship's systems - approximately 12 seconds behind schedule. The shipboard AI still held full reactive control over the point defense systems, and assistive targeting was still operational on the remaining armament; the shield generator still held at 97% efficiency, occasionally gaining a decimal .1 or .2.

He lazily knocked the flightstick gently to the side, sending the Tachyon into a slow spin, waiting until the cockpit skylights were flooded with the image of the red planet beneath. He glanced up, casting his gaze over the surface; he knew no secrets could be revealed to him from this altitude, but it was a good pass of time. Still inspecting the undulations and weather patterns of the planet, he spoke out loud:

"Adjutant, please commence full deep-scale scans on grid references..."
At this point he looked down, blinking at the local map which was on a screen to his left. He found the locations of the tomb and the Sith academy currently being scouted from the ground, and manually added them to the end of his voice command from his terminal before finishing it with one sharp word.
"Execute."
He sipped slowly from his favourite Hapan gold wine as the shipboard adjutant uttered small warnings every so often such as "Recognised craft detected" at grid references too long to pay attention to, or "Abnormal signature size detected" from others.

He'd check all those pings when his glass was empty.

 

[Boethiah]

Objective: Explore the Academy bowels.
Location: Sith Academy.

Anja looked over to [member="Tyro'din"] and his comment, a slight smirk coursed her lips. Perhaps this was the only time she expressed immediate emotion to the Bothan agent. "Agreeable." She stated. The lift took them down below the ruins, well below; in fact the noise of the main Academy had brokered a new silence as the lift halted shut at their destination.

Stepping out, hopefully with the Bothan en tow; Anja walked down a hallway -- it seemed this was where people were buried. A sudden chill overcame her as she felt a strange presence.

A spectral spirit began to form in front of them.

"Why shouldn't I kill you?" It whispered.

The Witch knew one thing: It realized she had power. Anja's curiosity got the better of her, "Why should you?"

 

[Armand Temi]

Objective B: Interrogate Sith Acolytes on the location of a rogue Sith Lord
Allies: [member="Kael Kessler"] [member="Tyro'din"]
[member="Anja Aj'Rou"] [member="Bal'gul"]

Perla inspected the being that floated out of the gloom and past the many torture devices. The Dathomir exile was not afraid because after all, she trained, fed, rode and sometimes killed giant rancors. This floating tentacle factory was a bit unexpected, the way it came slinking out of nowhere but she would not be deterred from conversing with it.

"Why hello to you too," Perla answered. "Are you going to help me with the interrogation?" She reached out and gently touched one of its limbs, curious to see if it felt slimy or dry. If this creature was able to frighten and maim the students, she would most certainly use its help on the first acolyte to be tortured in the prison cells.

 

[Laguz Vald]

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.


With a long groan the form lounging upon the heated rock sprouted an arm-like appendage, smacking aimlessly down on the ground until it found the source of the aggressive sound. A satisfied sigh rolled through the still air as the clock was silenced, and then the formless lump of flesh and bone reshaped itself in order to turn around and show its other side to the caress of the sun.

Korriban was mercilessly cold during the night, but the day was just beginning, and the rays of the distant star were kissing xir pale skin with just the right amount of warmth. A few more minutes, and the merciless killer was sure to start purring like a spoiled cat. If only someone were there to rub xir belly.

Thoughts flickered to the haunting features of [member="Anja Aj'Rou"] for a moment, but the sniper yanked them in a different direction almost forcibly. Xe'd resolved not to dwell on the woman any longer, however gorgeous she was, and focus xir sights on someone more… amenable to xir proposals. Laguz hadn't quite chosen the next lucky object of xir desire, but the ranks of the Primeval were sure ripe with attractive individuals. Xe was bound to find someone fitting sooner or later.

 

[Micah tol Powl]

A S C E N S I O N

The light of Nogras spread across the world. It glistened off the leaves -- green, verdant, fickle things -- peeking out from under the veil of snow which cushioned the hard, cold earth of the fjord coast. The whispers of Halrormalenth rustled the branches of the trees, coming in with the cold, tundra breeze. In the husk of a dead tree, the work of Balagoth created a cycle of death that would become life.

The monk sat, cross-legged, on the frozen earth. He wore only a light, white tunic against the cold. The wind touched his face with flurries of snow, a pale kiss against resplendent azure flesh. Dark purple hair flitted in the breeze, as the Pantoran youth meditated. How long had he been there? Not even he could have said. Seconds became minutes. Minutes became an hour. An hour, hours.

Time spent in prayer was time spent entertaining angels.

The Pantoran's hands were folded in his lap. The left open, its palm facing up, with a small amount of bird feed waiting there. In time, a curious thrush landed nearby. It's black head cocked as it examined this offering, tentatively approaching out of some apprehension, until it at last stood in the boy's hand, feeding from out of his palm.

And then the monk's eyes snapped open.

There was something eerily cold, unfeeling in them. As though the light of some consciousness was absent, leaving behind a void.

It was time.

Bending forward, the blue-skinned youth gently deposited the thrush to the ground with the feed as a parting gift. An offering of sorts. And, with that done, the small monk turned to crouch over the rifle he had left propped over the dead log. Resting the weight of the weapon on the log, the boy tucked the butt tight into his shoulder, his right hand naturally finding the pistol grip as his other hand adjusted the scope.

Through the lens, the boy peered inside of a corporate boardroom. A Rodian, fat with excess -- food, money, any number of sins -- was rising from out of his chair to speak. The Pantoran wasn't adept at lip reading. He didn't know what the Rodian was about to say. His master hadn't shared those details with him, and probably didn't care. That wasn't important.

The thrush took off for the sanctuary of the trees as the sound of a disruptor echoed across the fjord. The Pantoran grimaced slightly as the rifle recoiled into his chest. In an instant, the view through the scope changed from pristine windows aglow in the sunlight to mirrored shards of broken glass, splattered with blood.

Exhaling, a quiet prayer to Balagoth on his lips, the boy yanked back the rifle and began breaking it down.

​

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -​

"The company settled the bill..."

The boy sat at a cafe outside the starport, his attention less focused on the Sith Knight addressing him and more focused on the game of Angry Mynocks he was playing on his VersaPad. "Uh huh," the azure-skinned youngling answered vapidly, clearly pandering to the mere notion that he was listening to the man. The outline of the man was apparent in a multi-scan haze, as the miniature hologram planted his hands on his hips as he seemed to stare up at the Pantoran apprentice.

A half-eaten roasted nerf sandwich and a glass of blue milk rested on the table beside where the boy waited for his ride off of this planet. His third in as many weeks. Blowing in with the solar wind, and out again on the next shuttle.

"...your commission has been deposited for you."

That merited the boy's attention. He was not, after all, doing volunteer work. Taking a break from his game, the youth lifted up his glass of blue milk and saluted the diminutive hologram. "Cheers," he offered. A rote pleasantry, without any of the usual pleasantness behind it.

"Your work has been impressive, my young apprentice. Perhaps a small vacation is in order."

Blinking, the youth peered skeptically from over the top of his datapad. "Vacation?" he repeated, trying to mask the eagerness in his voice. Try as he might, visions of white sand beaches danced in his head. Perhaps Sanctuary, or Little Mon Cal on Lamaredd.

"You will go to the Horuset System, where you will find the planet Korriban."

"Korriban?" the boy echoed, his tone exasperated as the pad struck the table with an audible clack. Well, if he wondered just what the Sith did for vacations then at least now he knew. And so went the visions of bikini-clad Twi'leks. "Sooooo not what I had in mind," the boy complained, sinking down into his chair.

---

K O R R I B A N
Location: The Valley of the Dark Lords
Objective: Explore the Sith Academy

A billion stars in the universe, and the Sith went to the most obscure dustball in the whole galaxy to die.

The roar of the racing designed engine filled the youth's ears, as the S&R repulsorlifts pounded against red earth as the swoop streaked through the ancient and hallowed valley of kings and dark lords. The black visor contrasted the white helmet, the dark face shield reflecting the crumbled ruin of ruinic ziggaruts and fallen icons to their ancient culture. A rush of air and dust accompanied his passage, the cold biting into his flesh through his tunic at six hundred kilometers per hour. Tightening his grip on the handles, the boy crouched down lower to the speeder biker as he ratcheted the throttle and let loose a further boost of speed.

He used to go to sleep in the ghettos of Coruscant, listening to the screams and sounds of rape gangs, drug wars, and shoot-outs between rival factions. He pick pocketed people in the tourist sectors and the red light district, where he'd seen a kid who'd gotten caught have his throat opened by a Dug. A Dug who'd just thrown the body away, into the trash. Because that was how people had looked at him then. Not a lot fazed him, or impressed him, after those experiences. He'd stopped fearing death and started expecting it instead.

So to say that it was unsettling that a bunch of thousand-year-old empty tombs could give him the creeps would have been an understatement.

But it didn't make the fact any less true.

This entire planet felt like a tomb. There was only death here. And it lingered like a palpable presence, as though he were being watched from something still in those graves. Even at nearly seven hundred kilometers an hour, there was something which lingered on the very peripheral of his senses -- as though there was someone, or something, looking over his shoulder.

Easing back the throttle, the racing swoop coasted to the end of the valley carved into the very stone of the planet. Banking into a turn, the white-clad figure drifted to the broken steps and stones of an ancient temple-like structure. The repulsors whined as the boy applied the air brake, cutting the power to the engine as he parked the speeder bike at the bottom of the step, one leg kicking the landing struts down as the put the bike down in a cloud of red sand.

Sitting up, the young monk reached up both hands to unclasp the helmet. He shook out the head of unkempt, purple hair as it came free. Blue skin exposed to the light of Korriban's sun, the golden rays on either side of his face catching the light as the boy slung the helmet into a compartment by his foot. And grabbed the gun belt that had been stowed there.

Jumping down from off the bike, the boy cinched the white tunic with the belt. A Czerka blaster pistol and, more telling, leather-wrapped silver cylinder hung from off his waist. His eyes remained skeptical as they moved over the stones. He inclined his head back as he listened to the wind howl from out of the valley.

Some vacation, Master.

As he started for the steps, the Pantoran youth crouched down to examine the dust and debris more carefully. The wind was removing traces of a boot print in the sand. Someone had come this way, and recently.

No, two people.

There was another impression, thinner and smaller than the first. The boy's hand slid up to the blaster pistol on his hip, flicking the safety off as he rested his hand against the pistol grip. So, even while the eerie presence of Darth Dead-and-Haunting-It lingered in the goosebumps crawling up his skin, the boy was left with the reality that someone was there.

Graverobbers? Jedi?

Cautiously, the boy started up the steps toward the Academy entrance.

 

[Tyro'din]

Objective: Explore the Academy Bowels.
Allies: [member="Anja Aj'Rou"]

Tyro'din was stood at the back of the chamber he and his Lord, Anja, were in when the chill had swept through and the spectral presence began to form. His first instinctive reaction caused him to draw his rifle up to his shoulder and prep it for firing before he realized that no matter what he did, he would not be able to harm the spirit with it. The Bothan growled in annoyance at that fact, lowering the rifle as he did so, while the spirits cold, whispered question seemed to float through the room, setting Tyro'din's fur on edge.

He stood stock still while two mission objectives began to wage war with each other inside his mind and Anja first confronted the spirit. Would he leave his Lord and continue within mission parameters and explore and secure the area of the Academy that had just been breached, or would he discard the mission and follow his allegiance to his Lord, standing near as her confrontation with the spirit unravelled. He ultimately made his decision when he thought in his memories of Anja, in particular the ones where he had seen he fight.

Sighing in annoyance at going against one of his objectives, Tyro'din backed out of the room to explore the rest of the level as well as secure it so that his Lord's confrontation would not be disturbed nor would her life be placed at more risk. As he left, Tyro'din veiled himself in an Illusion, hiding himself from detection as much as he could.

 

[Micah tol Powl]

Location: The Sith Academy
Objective: Explore the Sith Academy

The walls of the ancient ziggarut loomed over the Pantoran boy, casting him in darkness for the long shadow cast by the fortress that had been carved into the very face of the planet. Power and majesty were etched there into the stone, lingering long after the builders were dead and forgotten.

Taking his hand from off the butt of his blaster pistol, the purple-haired tween cast his eyes down as his fingers stretched out to touch the crumbled mortar and weathered brick -- haltingly, apprehensively, as though approaching a live wire. The tips of two fingers caressed the dull rock, the stone crumbling away in dust and sand at the touch. Wind and corrosion had withered away the strength which had endured a the passage of seasons since time immemorial.

But the essence of what it had been build for remained.

A chill passed through him, icy daggers stabbing up through his limbs. Allowing his hand to fall away, the boy's head turned up as he exhaled a breath he hadn't even been aware that he'd been holding. The cold turned the air into vapor, a fine mist appearing as he breathed.

What was startling was the realization of how familiar the cold was. It wasn't a quality of temperature as much as it was a perception of something intangible. It lingered on the peripheral of the senses, but not the sense of touch. It was... something transcendent. Ephemeral.

It felt like when he used the Force.

It felt like the Dark Side.

Turning his eyes upward once more, the azure-skinned youth stood in the shadow of the entrance into the ancient academy and wondered just what this place was. A gateway? A doorway to some labyrinth, weaving paths which guided one further and further away from the light. He stared down into the entry and saw a corridor that led to an empty darkness. Devoid of feeling, of warmth, or form.

It was terrifying. Staring into nothing and wondering if it was alive. Seeing in that void the sum of all his futures. Hopes and dreams which arrived at an event horizon as haunting as a black hole in space. The boy looked into the darkness, and it beckoned to him.

The first step inside was like a drug, a rush of endorphins to the synapses as though he were on a wild, rollercoaster ride. The fear was real, and each step took him further and deeper into that terror. The feeling was euphoric, adrenaline mixing into the bloodstream as he felt his heartbeat accelerate.

Echoes of laughter trickled through the halls, as a smile lit the youngling's pale blue features.

This place, it was incredible.

Whatever sorcery was alive in here, it was disorienting. The shadows and shadowplay obfuscated the footprints that he had observed on the steps outside.

The safe thing to do would be to turn around and leave.

So he ventured on, further in, and had neither remorse nor regret for the steps he took. Into darkness. Into shadow. Into cold. Into nothing.

He had been nothing once. He had been worthless.

And the echo of his steps was the testament to the victor's cry, which called up to the sky and proclaimed, I am still here.