The Jewel of Moraband

[Milo Corr]

​

In the gloaming sea a ship erupted from hyperspace. A large, imperious, dreadnought, staffed by some of the Empire's finest. The Ship's captain perched in the throne of his superior, he was feeling especially mutinous this cycle. "Stealth systems have been engaged, sir," his commlink chattered. "Our ambush is set, shall I inform Lord Vestigor?"

Sliding a black-leather glove over the stark alabaster desk, he grimaced. "Let him attend to his rituals. We shall not rely on his arcane arts, leave him be." The officer switched off his commlink, rotating the throne to observe the window, patiently waiting for their prey to arrive.

The ignition of a blade of light and agonizing pain broke his attention. Crimson light spilled from his rib cage, ending the life of this rebellious captain, echoed soon after by the screams of terrors of soldier and crew alike...

Late into the night the clicking and tapping of fingers upon an interface echoed through the librarie's archives. Silver light streamed around a lone figure, seated at a desk, scrolling through ages of documents. Flanking his sides were two other datapads which he flicked between, and a single book. In the darkness he searched tirelessly through public record and ancient documents. Naval manifests. Old Republic, Imperial, Independent, hundreds of years of information as to the comings and goings of ships.

Paying keen attention to the ships that never made it to port, which was a common affair in wartime. With a list of names he searched further into the fates of these ships that did not make it, striking them off an ever growing list. He was tenacious in his search, a certain niggling feeling wriggled in his thoughts.

For hours he toiled, without anything sustenance beyond the cold caf he arrived with. He seemed almost entranced, setting his mind fully to the task- Until he found it. The Jewel of Moraband, a sith vessel of ages long since gone by.

Like many ships it had left port, yet never arrived at its final destination. And like so many others its history beyond that point was lost. Yet this one pulled at the back of his mind, finding serenity in previous discomfort. There was something special about this ship, something he would seek to discover out of equal portions of curiosity and greed.

"SHIP AND MUSCLE REQUIRED FOR HISTORICAL EXPEDITION INTO THE DEPTHS OF THE GALAXY, PAYMENT TO BE RECEIVED AFTER JOB COMPLETION," the holonet ad read. It was vague, keeping any information about the specifics of the job a secret. Enclosed with it was a the hangar of a more seedy Corellian spaceport, where a sandy-haired vagabond waited patiently for a ship and a motley group of temporary employees.

 

[Lyell Pavish]

Money was, at all times, Lyell Pavish's most urgent concern. Partly because of his creditors, partly because he was terrible at managing it, partly because his ship was always on the verge of falling apart. He couldn't afford to be too picky about the kind of jobs he took. If payment was offered, he was interested. When he'd caught wind of this suspiciously brief holonet ad, he'd at first been skeptical. Missions of "historical interest" usually didn't pay particularly well; those scholarly types liked to talk about the "joy of discovery" in lieu of decent credits. But the request for muscle, and the lack of attachment to any official university, gave him just enough hope to try it.

If this was a treasure-hunting expedition, count him in. A little treasure would go a long way toward having him not tortured to death for loan nonpayment.

Lyell had flown through the Corellia system a number of times since the planet's sundering, but he never quite got used to seeing a world broken like that. But it was irrelevant to his reasons for being here. He set down the Rascal's Chance in the crummy little hangar that the holonet listing had indicated, listening to the landing gear screech in protest beneath the freighter's weight. He really needed to refill their lubricant; maybe after this job, he would have enough cash to make that happen. Strapping on his blaster pistol, Ly lowered the boarding ramp and walked down it, casting around for the man who had made the posting - the man who would hopefully be paying him.

A lean, rugged man of about Lyell's own age, sandy-haired and dressed in a shabby spacer's jacket, stood alone in the hangar. Lyell's heart sank - the guy didn't look like someone with a lot of credits to burn. But maybe this was a treasure-hunting expedition, and whatever they found would be worth enough that both of them could walk away with a tidy profit. After flying this far, he might as well at least hear the guy out. Lyell stepped forward, extending his hand to the other man. "Lyell Pavish, captain of the Rascal's Chance. You the guy who's looking for a ship? Some kind of expedition, right?" Karking hells, he really hoped this wasn't a waste of his time...

[member="Milo Corr"]

 

[Draven Dursden]

Ah. How long had it been? Too long. Blackness exploded into incredibly bright light. A whirling circle of death he was, so close to finally becoming what he had always fought to be, the most dangerous knight in the galaxy, the most ferocious of warriors, feared by all. Broad saber in hand he cut down his foes left and right, this time it had happened to be reptilian like aliens, no threat to the knight usually, but him and his elite task force of personal soldiers, The Dudes, had broken into a whole nest, and they swarmed out like ants. This was not technically authorized by [member="Jyoti Nooran"] But Draven had never really been one for rules, regulations, or being told what to do. So he had gone without the back up of the jedi, he trusted his men completely.​

​

Lasers whizzed back and forth, huge mech suits on either side of him, Draven could not have felt more in his element, the hordes of foes washing over them, only to be beaten back by brutal force, and incredible amounts of machine gun fire. The knight let his temper flow, and he began to cut forward into the reptilian horde, pushing farther and farther out, snarling savagely with each and every slice of the blade, crushing those who came before him, his juyo technique serving him well. The battle raged for hours, absolutely savage, his Dudes out gunned, out manned, and certainly out numbered, but they continued to fight and beat off wave, after wave of foe.​

​

Finally the gunfire stopped. The corpses piled higher than the short Jedi stood, and death absolutely surrounded them. Draven finally saw the hive mother, ripping her way out of the huge hill which they had been flooding down, massive, strong, incredibly dangerous. He hefted his incredibly large saber, and began to charge forward, swinging it back and forth, dead earth crunching beneath his feet, corpses flitting past, many of them his own dudes, the huge mech suits like craters in the thousands of dead bodies around them, smoking and flaming where their pilot had roasted. But as the knight grew closer to the huge, towering reptilian mother, which flicked its tail back and forth, snarling and snapping savagely, he noticed a lack of familiar ground shaking foot steps. Confused, he turned, looking for his elite vanguard, his soldiers, his men, and found them slowly fanning out into a semi circle around him, trapping Draven between his own men, and the creature. Captain George's voice crackled over comms, "You have lead us to one too many defeats Draven. We were brought on as warriors. Not some jedi master's lackies, or pups. We lost too many in the last battle, and too many here. Sorry kid." And with that, the comms crackled off, and the air was ablaze with machine gun fire, which the knight oh too well. But it had never been directed at him.​

​

Draven whirled the broad saber, roaring out curses, calling them traitors, but the voice landed of def ears, and the fire continued to flow. His muscles burned, his head ached, wounds covered his body, a savage creature had raked him down the side, and left his abdomen oozing blood, this felt on fire as his muscles worked to continue whirling the saber. Then a incredible sweeping force smashed against his head, and his entire body flew like a rag doll. Bouncing across the ground, once, twice, his body eventually came to a halt, the huge reptilian creature swept forward towards The Dudes as they opened fire on the pile of bones which was Draven, only their first barrage reaching its target before they were forced to swap their attention to the bigger enemy.​

​

Draven's face burned, he clawed his way towards the open tunnel which lead into the hive of the hill, his body writhing in agony, a glob of blood spit from his mouth, then another, then a flood, a mix of puke and blood splattered down his front, as the knight's head spun. The last thing he remembered, was thinking with a surprising cold, calmness, "Why is half the world black?" Then trying furiously to blink his right eye, working a lid which was no longer there. Then? Then nothing.​

​

His eyes opened. Or eye rather. The knight jerked out of his deep slumber, hand snatching up his lightsaber and the rippling heat of its ignition flitted across his face for a moment, as the unstable blade came into being in front him, blue light flickering and shifting. He had seen some ad about a treasure hunt, and the knight...was he a knight anymore? Draven shook his head, and stood up, beginning to dress. The knight would answer, maybe even catch a ride back to silver territory. Throwing on his absolutely shot armor, Draven would roll his shoulder, it had never been the same after the betrayal, he just couldn't swing his saber like he used to, it would lock up on him. Staring down, the knight would flex his hand, the middle finger of his right one missing, and aching horribly. How he ached. Letting the force flood through him was the only way Draven could muster the strength to step outside the cruddy little inn door, and make his way downstairs.​

​

Draven would approach the ship, sabers on his hips as always, and a gaping, fresh eye socket glaring out at the world. He'd call out two the two rather...dirty looking men, "Hey kids, heard there was treasure that needed hunting." He walked with a bit of a limp after his encounter. His shoulder plate which had been made of trooper armor was completely blasted to hell, a gaping hole in it, and his thigh guard was smashed to bits, barely holding together. He certainly didn't look any better than the rest of them.​

 

[Milo Corr]

Milo peered at Lyell's hand with a look of discrimination, discerning if he should reach out to grip it or just wave it away. Shrugging he held out his own hand, wrapping his rather thin fingers around the man's own, giving it a light shake. He looked like he hadn't had a meal in months, let alone one that wasn't just caf and rubbish.

Pulling his lips apart he gave a sincere smile, nodding his head. "Milo Corr," he exclaimed in a rising tone. "Pleasure t'meet you! I'm lookin' for a good ship-" He paused looking over the Rascal's Chance, seemingly unperturbed by its apparent condition. It had a bit of a rustic charm, in his opinion. He likened it to himself, sympathizing more with the battered nature than any perceived appeal.

Releasing the captain's hand he quickly rummaged around his pockets, searching for something. As attention shifted from the grip, the smell of vice could be sensed. Milo wasn't a clean man, but he had a chipper expression. Finally, drawing out a simple datapad, Milo almost shoved it into the man's hand, like an eager student, sharing a project to a mentor. It was an older but still functioning model.

Upon the display sat the schematic of a Harrower-Class dreadnought, an ancient imperial ship of an age long, long, ago. Impressive, intimidating, and powerful, these ships had a long history of battle in their day.

"It ain't much, but this thing went missin' many many years ago. And no one's found it this side of the galaxy, and unlikely the next-" He spoke in a rather straight, but crude manner, hinting at a history of street life. His tongue was blunt and he shortened words liberally. "And, uh, I think I can find it. I know that sounds a bit optimistic, but I think I got a chance, eh? I got a... Feelin', plus I think I know generally where it is-" he said, swiping his fingers upwards on the Datapad, scrolling through a departure and destination manifest, as well as a brief overview of past attempts to find the starship.

"Goin' into this, I'll be honest. I ain't got much creds," Milo motioned to himself and his ratty coat. "But the payoff could be huge. Sell this hunk o' junk to a collector, or some ritzy museum and you'd be set for life, eh? Or whatever is on it."

At the call of the voice Milo turned, still grinning with delight as another approached. "Yes, yes! Things to be found- come come- look look!" He wrenched the datapad away from Lyell and waved it towards Draven. "Creds to be made, if'n we're lucky. And I'd like t'think we are. As I was tellin' the good Captain here, no one has found this floatin' debris since it went missin'. You in?" The man gave the jedi a somewhat expectant look.

[member="Draven Dursden"] [member="Lyell Pavish"]

 

[Lyell Pavish]

Lyell had done his fair share of scavenging and treasure hunting. Recovering and selling an entire ship, though? That was new.

"It's ambitious, I'll give you that. But how are we..." He was cut off by the arrival of another man, one who looked like Lyell felt after five drinks too many. Wrecked, carbon-scored armor - did it even afford him any protection anymore? - and a missing eye made the guy seem like a zombie from a low-budget holovid. What kept Ly's attention, though, was the lightsaber hanging at his hip. In the smuggler's experience, sabers and the people who wielded them were trouble. And didn't this Milo character just say something about the target being some old Sith warship? Ly let his hand casually hang down beside his blaster. He wasn't sure how this one would play out.

"Kids, huh? Cute. Have they let you buy a drink yet?" The guy had to be half a decade Lyell's junior, despite all the battle damage, and Ly had over half a foot on him for height. "Whatever. If we're selling a whole karking ship, that's more than enough to split three ways. You said you had a lead on where this thing is, Limo?" He winced, pretty sure he'd gotten that wrong; he really was terrible with names. But what was more important was what he was good at: flying, shooting, fixing, and getting out of trouble. He wouldn't have any problem dealing with whatever mess the Sith ship had gotten into. Or so he told himself.

[member="Milo Corr"] | [member="Draven Dursden"]

 

[Milo Corr]

"Milo! Milo-" the man said furrowing his brow. "Yes of course, right-" He drew the datapad back letting out a sigh. "Starships, as they leave their docks, often have a destination in mind. If communication is unobtainable the only way to know if it is missing is through the records of its destination."

Milo tugged on his coat, letting out a shot yawn. "This ship departed from Correllian space heading to Korriban, yet it seemingly never arrived. This leads me to believe that, as long as it hasn't strayed far off course, it should be between here-" He pointed to the durasteel floor they stood upon, then he pointed outside of the hangar. "And there. Of course, years of drift will have also pushed it off course, making our little job even harder."

In circular motions, he rotated his hands. "But I am confident... I've had this feeling, right? Ever since I started lookin' into old and lost ships. An' I always trust my gut, y'know? We just gotta follow along the path, 'til we..." The man chewed on his lower-lip, before grinning once more. "We'll find it. I have trust in that, an' once we have it, we just ship it back t'someone willin' t'drop creds on a ship, or whatever is inside."

With that he slides the datapad away and slid his hands together, eager, as he turned towards Draven to listen to his input.

 

[Elise Ike]

Elise almost stumbled over as she ran into the hanger bay, panting like a wild animal that had just outrun some notorious predator, beads of sweat running down her face as she stumbled through the door, a rather large back page slung over her shoulder, carrying equipment and other tools of trade, "I-I'm not, too late am I"? Elise was not used to taking on jobs but she had a feeling this expedition would be worth the hectic run here, true a hunch may be a little unscientific to go on but she did need to get out of the mansion once in a while, she just wished the remaining half of Corellia was not so karking far away. Catching her breath she strode forwards, trying to keep her composure a little, dressed in the usual white shirt and black pants, neat tidy while projecting a 'I am an intellectual' feel about herself. well hopfully, arriving lat was not really the best start to a potentially eye opening expedition to the stars.

​Taking a step forward she gave the customary bow that most Atrisians gave, "Dr Elise Dixon, Anthropologist and Historian, though explorations are not always my liking I went on gut instinct and decided to see what this whole adventure was about, sorry if I didn't get here very early. but I trust you have enough room to fit one more tag along"? Looking around that should be an easy guess, 3 people was hardly a freighter crew let along a research team. one having a more scholar look about them ([member="Milo Corr"]), probably the team leader and organizer, the other ([member="Lyell Pavish"]) a rough and rowdy looking person, probably a smuggler if she had to guess, maybe the pilot. The last person though was an eye catcher, [member="Draven Dursden"] if memory served correct, quite the trouble maker from rumors around the Silver Rest not a follower of the rules but a good fighter, probably the muscle in this operation but also someone to keep an eye on. Last thing she wanted was to be bared from conducting research on the many ruins in the depth of Kashyyyke if he went back screaming about a Sith Lord that looked like her sh'd have to keep this silly act up for longer then expected.

 

[Milo Corr]

The 'employer' of this little expedition, if he could be called that, turned to the woman, looking her over with scrutiny. "A pleasure, uh, Doctor-" His words started to jumble, and he took on a redder complexion, though not one out of attraction, but embarrassment at being a bit outshone. "I wasn't expectin' someone with a bit of an education to answer the advertisement, but we've got room, yeah."

With stiff movements, he held out his hand, the other drawing the same datapad as before, hastily shoving it towards her. The display revealed the base schematic of the Harrower-Class Dreadnought. "It'll be good t'have someone with a bit more, uh... Expertise on the ship." Milo rubbed the back of his neck, head shaking. "But I'll let'cha know. We're kinda sorta in this for money, at least myself and..." He motioned to Lyell, before tugging once more on the ratty coat.

"Creds are in high demand and low supply, ye? If that ain't an issue you're more then free t'come an' study, as well as make a lil' currency, ma'am."

[member="Elise Ike"]

 

[Draven Dursden]

The knight would appear...significantly less fresh faced than he ever had before. With his battered, beaten armor, and mangled body, which he was still getting used to, the knight would have to just bear his teeth and grind through it. He glanced at the woman and would raise a eyebrow, and said shortly, "Doctor." Then nothing. The knight had only just began to recover from his betrayal by his own men, the dark side had certainly planted its seeds in him, and it seemed like they were only growing the more he brooded on and thought about his betrayal. So the knight decided not to.​

​

He'd continue to watch the woman who had approached, and said in his surprisingly boyish, and young sounding voice, "The name is...Draven. Nice to meet you...doc." Crossing his arms and watching her, his charred, empty socket gaping, and the other clear, steel gray, cold, eye flicking from her posture, to her stance, to her ches- to her face. He would run a hand through his long mane of bright blonde hair, which had streaks of white through it, and then rest his hands atop his sabers. The knight would not flee from conflict, even in his damaged state, through his posture, his body language, and his words, Draven was letting her know, that they were on neutral territory.​

​

The knight would then glance at the spacer who was muttering on about creds and grunt, "You know the doctor type. Would pay thousands of creds to look at some bug, and be happy doing it until they died." That lopsided smile of his flashed, pointed canines quite apparent, "Should be a fun little trip. Right doc?" Glancing over at her once more.​

​

[member="Milo Corr"] [member="Elise Ike"] [member="Lyell Pavish"]​

 

[Lyell Pavish]

"The more, the merrier," Lyell muttered, in a tone that made it clear he believed no such thing. There was something... off about the doctor, but he couldn't put his finger on it. Maybe he just innately distrusted anyone with an academic interest in Sith relics. Being greedy enough to steal or salvage a dark lord's warship was one thing; greed was a motivation that was simple, common, and easily understood. This whole "gut instinct" explanation stank to him, putting an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. He would have to keep an eye on her, but then he would need to keep an eye on the battered saber-wielder as well. Per usual, it was best to trust no one.

"So we've got a big karking area to search, is what you're saying. Corellia to Korriban isn't exactly a day trip, Mino. If we want to get rich before we starve or run out of fuel, let's get started. You know, plug in last known trajectories and whatever other mumbo-jumbo you've unearthed." Lyell turned and headed up the ramp to board the Rascal's Chance, beckoning the others to follow. Maybe it was a risk, letting them onto his ship when so much about them screamed danger, but he seldom got paid without accepting at least a little risk. For now, Momo held all the cards, and he was going to have to play along and follow his lead to get the cash.

Sliding down in the pilot's seat, Lyell ran through his pre-flight checks. His treasure-hunting employer could input whatever he needed into the navicomputer, and the others were welcome to stow their stuff and check out the bunks. The Rascal's Chance wasn't exactly a luxury liner; the corridors were full of exposed wiring and corroded deck plating, and the mattresses were hard and lumpy - except for the one Ly kept for himself and the occasional lady friend, but they weren't about to find that out. Still, there was plenty of space for them to store their gear for the trip, and plenty of room to stretch out in the ship's central common area. Just don't trip over the half-assembled power converters.

[member="Milo Corr"] | [member="Draven Dursden"] | [member="Elise Ike"]

 

[Elise Ike]

Not expecting someone with an academic background on a potential historical expedition into the depths of the galaxy was quite a stupid form of thinking, children were always troublesome, perhaps it was a good thing she had decided to come along. "Always expect the unexpected, more so when you plant to venture into the unknown, you may never know what you will find after all". That was why he had make such a vague advertisement right? or was it just a ploy to not reveal much information? "Do worry about money, I have no real need for it I needed to get out of the house once in a while, but seeking a Sith Ship, that is quite the goal in mind, I am glad I came along, finding one of those still intact is a once in a life time chance".

After reviewing the data pad she looked to the other two accomplices, she could sense their 'distrust' by her sudden appearance and non focus on money aspect of the whole trip. It was a little insulting, that very few people believed in doing a job just for the mystery and discovering something new, when one reached her age seeking a new form of entertainment or wonder was far more important than wealth or power. "Pleasure Draven, too you both" she replied, though not expecting the other man to bother with formalities, to them this was probably just a job, get payed nothing more.

Lifting her travel pack over shoulder she followed the others into the somewhat run down (to put it lightly) freighter, here eyes cocked a little to the side as she wandered through the hallways. 'Well this makes it quite clear, mister pilot is just in it for the money, I suspect he does not welcome my presence as it means less money for him if'. Giving a small head shake she picked one of the spare cabins, setting out her own data pad and scientific equipment, if they did manage to find this dreadnought she'd want to be prepared. Once done she strode towards the cockpit, interested in were their employer was taking this run down freighter.

[member="Lyell Pavish"] [member="Draven Dursden"] [member="Milo Corr"]

 

[Milo Corr]

"Milo, Milo," He called after the pilot, letting out a sigh of relief as the good doctor shared their disinterest in the glorious credits he so greedily sought after. Stepping on board he gave it a quick little tour. Seeming impressed, though it does not take much to surpass the standards of some lowlife of Empress Teta.

Slipping up to the cockpit he began punching in coordinates, seemingly a direct route to Korriban, before adjusting the values. He began to mutter to himself basic equations, something the vagabond most likely picked up from reading on previous expeditions. "...Take into account the natural passage of time and the thousand years of drift in a random dimension-" Once set he slid into a seat and threw his arms up.

"Aight! That should do it- get us on the path at least." Nudging a tooth in between into the nail of his index finger the transient began to clean out the dirt and grime in a less than sophisticated manner. "Y'see, no ones seen it, eh? But about two weeks ago, I got this feelin' in an old Alliance University of History library. Didn't know what it was 'til I found this lil' packet of data," he raised the datapad once more. "An' always trust y'gut, s'what I say. Never lead me astray."

Rotating on the chair, much like a child struck with boredom, he could not help but flash a rather wide smile, content with himself. "I believe we'll find it, I just got a feelin'." Lyell could take off whenever he was ready. The coordinates would lead them on a rather circular route to Korriban; and if the ship was not halted prematurely, the 'crew' would find themselves in Imperial Space. It wasn't clear whether or not this concerned Milo; the vagabond hiding all his emotions behind a lopsided grin.

[member="Lyell Pavish"] | [member="Elise Ike"] | [member="Draven Dursden"]

 

[Draven Dursden]

Draven stepped aboard the ship following the doctor and grunting in response to the woman's greeting. He would shove his way in behind [member="Milo Corr"] and find a stool or seat somewhere, crossing his arms and watching the spacers go to work. Draven had a...rudimentary understanding of how ships functioned and worked, but these men were experts, so he left it to them to do their work. Meanwhile the knight would do something which throughout his entire time as a Padawan, he very rarely did, meditate. Placing his hands palms down on his thighs, Draven would take a deep breath, and close his eyes, letting the force sweep him away in its current, and the hum of the ship, the rambling of the spacer, the pain of his injuries...slip away.​

​

The all consuming darkness which was slightly familiar washed over the wounded knight, his mind putting its self back together bit by bit in the den of his own mind, his face a expressionless mask to hide a storm of emotions swirling and ripping up the ground beneath. Once again he was left with the same confusion he had felt since he became a knight, since he had been pulled of his force forsaken rock by Yuroic, where to turn. To the dark? Or the light? The aching sweet pleasure of rage and anger over the injustices which had been brought against him was alluring...and the way of peace and forgiveness? An impossible pill to swallow.​

​

So Draven settled for simply drifting in the darkness, through space and time, letting the whirr of the ship, and the hum of the engines, rock him deeper and deeper into the meditation, hoping for some sort of answer, or conclusion from all this nonsense.​

​

[member="Milo Corr"] I [member="Elise Ike"] I [member="Lyell Pavish"] I​

 

[Lyell Pavish]

"I hope that gut feeling isn't just something you ate," Lyell muttered. He had to admit, though, that the shabbily-dressed man's enthusiasm was infectious. Maybe they really would find this ancient Sith ship which had been drifting in deep space for Force knew how long. Maybe it wouldn't be full of death droids or horrible mutated monstrosities or angry ghosts. Maybe none of them would shoot (or saber) the others in the back before they got it back to civilized space and somehow found a buyer. Maybe that buyer wouldn't double-cross them, or use the ship for something awful that they would all then be complicit in. On second thought, that was a lot of maybes.

Lyell shook his head; no use borrowing trouble. He would deal with each hurdle as it came up, like he always did. Mostly because he sucked at planning ahead. Finishing his pre-flight checks and looking over his employer's data, he nodded. Time to get this show on the road. His fingers flew over consoles, initializing the repulsorlifts, engaging the sublight engines, and retracting the landing gear. The Rascal's Chance rose a meter above the floor of the hangar, turned toward the majestic, infinite field of stars beyond, started forward... and abruptly lost power, dropping like a stone to the hangar floor with a crunch of metal on metal that jolted the bones of every passenger.

There was a moment's silence. "Sorry," Lyell called from the cockpit. "This, uh... this never happens..." He smashed a fist against the side of the console, jiggling the connectors inside, and the sublight engines roared back to life. With another earsplitting screech, the Rascal leapt through the mouth of the hangar and out into the vastness of space. Carefully not looking at his passengers, his cheeks flushed and his posture awkward, Lyell patched in the navicomputer as if nothing had happened. A moment later, the blue tunnel of hyperspace opened in front of them, taking them along the drift-adjusted final course of the vanished Sith dreadnought.

And toward whatever adventures - or messy ends - awaited them along that course.

[member="Milo Corr"] | [member="Elise Ike"] | [member="Draven Dursden"]

 

[Milo Corr]

Stumbling in his seat, nearly thrown out, the transient readjusted himself, letting out a chuckle. "This bucket of bolts can barely fly! I love it." As they finally departed from Corellia, the accursed rock it was, he pushed to a stand and departed from the cockpit, exploring once more.

It would take more than a few hours to get to Korriban, but their target was a little more obscure. The galaxy was vast and wide, the chances of finding such a ship through mundane means was akin to finding a needle in the seas of Mon Cal. But the naive man stuck to his dreams- and in this moment his stomach. Milo had not had a decent meal in countless days, and opted in this moment to steal a bite or two from their captain's stores, hoping he wouldn't mind. Exploring the ship haphazardly, he gave Elise a wave when he spotted her, but moved on to return to what he was doing.

With a grin and a mouthful of food he returned to the cockpit to take a seat, making himself at home. "I have to admit, your ship ain't much to look at, but it works. S'more than I can say for most, eh? How fast can y'get this thing up to?"

Shifting in the seat, Milo folded his arms behind his head, closing his eyes, only opening one to curiously peep on the meditating Draven every so often. Having no intention to interrupt his meditation, the Vagabond merely lounged, shooting a glance towards their trusty captain.

The first few hours were uneventful, the stream of color from hyperspace their only companion, beyond each other; but upon the seventh hour, precisely on the transitioning second, all those sensitive to the force could feel a ripple. Like a pebble tossed to the waters, it was weak, small... Unnoticeable from distances farther beyond.

Turning to Lyell, the vagabond gave a confident nod of the head. "My gut is tellin' me we're gettin' close. Keep goin' a lil' more."

[member="Lyell Pavish"] | [member="Elise Ike"] | [member="Draven Dursden"]

 

[Elise Ike]

As [member="Milo Corr"] plotted in the hyperspace coordinates she slowly made her way back to the cabin of choice, it would take a few hours to reach their destination, good time to read up on the history of the ship they were searching after. She had a lead to see what was acessable in the family archives, but even the days of the old republic were quite some time before the immortal line of the Ike family formed, whats more the Sith Empire was not the most revealing with it's information. There was the real possibility that no real records survived of this ship beside what Corr and herself had already looked though, a potential problem but made the trip the more exciting.

She slowly made her ways through thee ships hallways, the sudden lurch from the ships engine failing almost sending her into a face plan, "I just hope we do not end up the ones needing an expedition to find". Time like this she pondered if it would be economical to purchase a personal ship large enough for a small crew... nah would be to much work do say all smiles and chipper. Heading back to the main lounge her eyes and senses caught hold of [member="Draven Dursden"] as he meditated, a swirling vortex of darkness clouding around the mans short stature. "It does not take a genius in the force to tell that you are conflicted with past troubles, did you hope to come on this trip to gain knowledge of the dark side or just get away from civilization for a short time"?

Elise had seen this all the time, so many young Jedi falling I'll to the dark without knowing much about it, following blind emotion to only then be picked up by some Sith to be used as a tool. The youthful looking woman sitting in a traditional Seiza in front of the 'Jedi' as the ship started zoomed towards it's destination.

[member="Lyell Pavish"]

 

[Draven Dursden]

A nagging, annoying voice was calling Draven back from the darkest, deepest recesses of his mind, one which was attached to a woman, a doctor. As his one good eye slowly opened, the knight's eyebrows would knit together in a confused expression, "What do you know of the force woman?" A slight hint of that old arrogance and pride which he had possessed before his fall becoming present, he would continue, "And I have no interest in the dark side. At all." But he did. And that nagging voice in the back of his mind told him so, never letting him forget it, constantly jabbing him under the ribs with it, shame. How Yuroic would be ashamed, such a weak apprentice. Such a weak man.​

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Rubbing his shoulder, which was still badly damaged, the...once knight? The knight grunted, "I came on this trip for a few extra credits. Nothing more, nothing less. And what about you doc, why are you on this trip with a little band of misfits?" Slowly his upright, and stiff posture which the knight had exhibited in his meditation degraded, and he was back to leaning back in the chair, and legs spread wide in a fighters stance, the combat boots solid against the ground.​

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Draven's gaze would pin the woman firmly, why would some doctor be prodding him about the dark side? And her only reason for being here was....looking at a old sith ship? The knight was not always the sharpest tool in the shed, but it would take hammer to not know something was up.​

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[member="Elise Ike"] [member="Milo Corr"] [member="Lyell Pavish"]​

 

[Lyell Pavish]

Hyperspace had a kind of peace to it, the closest Lyell ever got to meditation. He would spend more time there if fuel weren't so expensive.

As it was, he could only afford to snatch the relaxing feeling of flowing across the galaxy at high speed on the way to one job or another. He put his feet up on the console, laced his fingers together behind his head, and let out a long, deep breath. The stress of always being on, watching for trouble or opportunity, melted away here. He was carried on a current of hypermatter, drifting on the river of interstellar travel. He took no notice of the strange conversation between the creepy academician and the battered saber-jockey, preferring to simply bask in the soft light of the blue tunnel ahead and the instrument panels all around. It was like a sweet, dreamless sleep.

"She more than gets the job done," he told his ragged employer, feeling himself get a little defensive. So sometimes she really did just barely manage to fly, but he loved the Rascal anyway. He had put sweat and blood and tears into this ship, plus a whole lot of very creative wiring. Frankly, he'd put more effort into her than any woman he'd ever dated (and there had been plenty, depending on how one defined dating), which probably said all manner of unpleasant things about him. But he knew his own faults, and had no illusions about them. "Pretty karking fast," he replied, with fatherly pride in his voice. "Let's just say she's been in some sticky situations, but she's never been caught."

Lyell wasn't sure what passed between the others just then; he didn't feel anything, but there was a shiver that passed over each of them, as if they were reacting to a moment's cold breeze when someone came in from a snowstorm. "Uh, sure," he said, wondering how Milo could possibly know they were getting close to a drifting derelict that had been missing for who knew how fething long. "You're the boss, boss. Just, uh, just tell me when." So far as he could tell, they were in the middle of nowhere.

But maybe all these other folks knew something he didn't? He glanced back at the lightsaber on Draven's belt and wondered...

[member="Milo Corr"] | [member="Draven Dursden"] | [member="Elise Ike"]

 

[Milo Corr]

Another hour slid on by with Milo staring intently into hyperspace, his eyes seemingly out of focus. Seemingly ignoring, or more accurately not even hearing, the conversation between the woman and the meditating knight. Instead he was preoccupied with something else.

The same echo came again, sending a shiver down his spine. He had felt this before in the library, it was as if something was reaching out to touch them. Drawing a single First Order credit, he rolled it between his fingers, as if using it as a muse to focus.

"We're..." The vagabond paused for a few minutes, just taking in the silence. In a calm tone he gave the nod to Lyell once more. "Here. Pull us out of hyperspace." Thrusting two fingers towards the cockpit's window, as if directly pointing towards... Something.

[member="Lyell Pavish"] | [member="Elise Ike"] | [member="Draven Dursden"]

 

[Elise Ike]

Oh it seemed she pissed the Jedi Knight off a little, what fun, "I may not have gone to some fancy Jedi school or personally learnt anything about the dark side but even I can see that you are disturbed". "As my profession suggest the study of humans/xenos and past civilizations and from what I have researched you are showing the tell tail signs of someone falling to the dark side due to emotional stress and baggage". Of course there was more to it then that, but Elise would rather look at if from another angle mainly to keep the whole 'I am a Sith Lord' aspect secret. Well unless this man showed promise, it had been a while since she trained someone.

She gave a small shurg for the moment seeming to take the Jedi's word for it, even if she knew the Silvers were quite wealthy with their close ties to Sasori. "As you wish but for me? well unlike most people I am not jumping head long into wars every 5 seconds or smuggling dangerous goods to the other side of the galaxy with who knows what on my tail". "As such my life can be a little bit dull, and though I wont mind a little extra crash the potential to find a ancient Sith ship would be quite the marvel, who knows what sort of relics and other tech could be salvaged from it". Just thinking about such event made Elise all giddy, generally excited to see a Harrow Class Star Destroyer, and if there as some Sith item on board along with, well that just made it even better.

Feeling the ship come out of hyper space she almost leap up from her seated position, "ah seems we have arrived, please let it be a HCS, please please please" she muttered to herself, jogging back towards the cockpit window.

[member="Milo Corr"] [member="Lyell Pavish"] [member="Draven Dursden"]