The Patience of Stone (Sith Empire)

[NT-6922]

"Yeah, well, this place won't be the death of me, I can guarantee that."
The mercenary looked around nervously. All manners of traps could be hidden here, and the fact that they were laid by a Sith of all people did not really reassure her. If anything, it would be a miracle if half of the expedition force made it to the end of this temple.

As soon as she saw the HK droids rappelling down, Natassia knew they were in trouble. With very little in the way of cover and the droids surrounding them, this promised to be a hard-fought battle. And the biggest problem was that she did not know this type of droids, meaning she had little knowledge of their strengths and weaknesses: and an analysis would take far too long in a situation where seconds could decide life or death.
Knowing she would have to dish out a maximum amount of fire, she discarded her M82 and took the X-32 from her back, the massive light machine gun still quite heavy in her hands, despite the armor's support. Still, she would be able to hip-fire with it, something that would be impossible for someone without power armor, really.

Gritting her teeth, she squeezed the trigger, the two barrels spitting out a copious amount of fire as she focused on one droid at a time, making sure to reduce her foe to shreds before moving on - after all, she wouldn't want to find out the hard way that they could self-repair or activate a self-destruct sequence.
"Now would be a perfect time for you to use that Sith stuff of yours!" she barked at [member="Serixibis"], grunting as the copious blaster fire neutralized her energy shields, a blaring alarm in her helmet reminding her of how much more vulnerable she was now.

 

[Darth Chagrin]

"Watch these unfortunate ones, human, and see how many survive," Dreek replied to the white-haired human who had initiated conversation with him. He cocked his head slightly in the human's direction. "The Sith do not award prizes to the foolish or the weak, even after they have died."

Having indulged the man, the Rodian turned back to the tomb entrance, where he witnessed the wave of acolytes hastily making their way in... probably to their dooms. He didn't want to stay too far behind the acolytes, in the event that they discovered something before dying and someone else looted their corpses, or in case he simply lost them. Yet at the same time he didn't intend to expose his back to this other man, someone who clearly shared at least some of his mindset and therefore was potentially dangerous.

So he turned back to the white-haired man and asked, "Still, we cannot waste time, human. We should move quickly. Clearly, we think alike, and it would prudent for us to work together and avoid needless bickering. Do you have any objections?" At the very least, Dreek could expect to learn more about the man from his response.

With that, he began moving towards the open tomb door. Everyone apart from himself and this other human, including the man who seemed to be Darth Sibilus, had moved in already. As he entered the tomb, Dreek passed through a long passageway with mosaical depictions of Darth Ansirrian's life. The chronology abruptly ceased without revealing what had become of the ancient Sith Lord. That was suspicious enough. Approaching the circular room, Dreek witnessed the descent of more than a dozen assassin droids from the ceiling and their subsequent firing at the acolytes before them. A good distance behind, he was safe from being immediately targeted, but that didn't mean he could move with impunity. His hand crept to his belt, which housed both his two blasters and his saberstaff, along with a pair of thermal detonators. It was unlikely that he would finish this day without using any of them.

Coming within range of the circular room, Dreek positioned himself against the hallway's side wall, moving just out of the droids' line of sight (well, at least while they were preoccupied with these other Sith) to allow the acolytes ahead of him the honour of fighting the droids. Still, the section of wall between the Rodian and the battle unfolding just metres away was quite small; from here, he could still see some of the acolytes engaged in battle... along with someone who had decided not to engage the droids at all and watch from the sidelines in comfort. Sly. It seemed that the white-haired man was far from the only person Dreek had to compete with...

Vahliath Imperious [member="Darth Sibilus"] [member="Darth Ferus"] [member="Darth Ansirrian"] [member="Serixibis"] [member="Natassia Traxen"] [member="Cairyn Midore"] [member="Mythos"]

 

[guest.224]

At least they could agree on the that: that the Sith did not reward the dead, and neither could a dead Sith reap those rewards. That was a path Vahliath did not wish to go down: death. To die in a place considered holy and almost too valuable for even new Sith to investigate, well, needless to say he would have been forgotten about like those who also died here, his bones only acting as the living reminder of the mistake a Sith made, while extending to a warning for future seekers of knowledge. Dipping his head ensured his confirmation of lingering alongside the fellow Sith Rodian; however, Vahliath verbally expressed his agreement by saying, "I have none," regarding any objections he might have had. After that, they walked towards the circular room in synchronised unity, side by side until they reached their destination ahead. Amidst that path, Vahliath felt the Force exuding from his new and potential ally. Strong, intense - distinct. And yet, Vahliath couldn't determine what fuelled him. Emotions, perhaps a passion even. He felt nothing, and that in itself was concerning. He was happy to hold back his curiosity for now, however, for fate would change the tide of the outcome, coming in the form of machines which had the intent to kill. Lightsabers and weapons alike were drawn, ignited and conjured around him to deal with this threat. A threat Vahliath himself didn't want to fall victim to, much like them. In his determination to stay alive, his own weapon breathed life in his grasp. The luminosity of his 'saber's blade burned white and vibrant from the hilt, screeching to life as he put the weapon before himself and pressed his back against the cavern wall. As uncomfortable as it was, it was better to stay back and not be exposed to whatever old-world tricks the machines might have had up their metaphorical sleeves. Analysing them first was best, lest he fall victim to an unexpected attack. He did exactly that: observe - at first. Hazel eyes moved swiftly across the battle, and it was undoubtedly intense due to the confined room. If one moved around too much in panic, a weapon of some kind might have intentionally or accidentally hit them. Vahliath was uncomfortable with the idea of being killed by his own allies, some who he had no knowledge of. Imagine that: being killed by someone you didn't know. Not knowing the name of your killer, and dying with the thirst for knowledge in mind. It was like an itch you couldn't scratch, wasn't it.

As Vahliath observed, he felt the battle was getting all too close. No - he was not scared. Concerned? Of course, but not scared. As a result of his concern, he put his hand before himself. A concentration of the Force built up between his digits, and he could feel its power thicken around his hand, making it feel almost too heavy. In a sudden burst, he generated enough power with a momentum to push back the closest Droid he could get close to. Even if he didn't kill it, it might have made it vulnerable to another Sith attack. Vahliath had no intentions of dying today, and he was sure no one else did. Thinking only inwards was a common trait and stereotype for a Sith. Hopefully today they would contradict that, and all come out of this alive. Would they?

[member="Dreek Xretissirr"]
[member="Natassia Traxen"]
[member="Darth Ferus"]
[member="Darth Sibilus"]
[member="Serixibis"]
(others I couldn't tag for some reason)

 

[Serixibis]

Death may indeed stalk these halls, but yonder - a glint of gold.

Droid. It had to be droids.

Serixibis cursed her luck, the weeks upon weeks of training sessions with similar models replaying themselves in her mind as she deflected a single blaster shot with the reinforced hilt of her Vibro-lance and then dove for cover as a dozen more erupted around her. The aged stonework is transformed into a fresco of super-heated blast points and cracked masonry as she slithers aside and behind cover, somewhat relieved to see the Mercenary from above entering the fray alongside the dozen or so Acolytes also selected for this mission.

The company was making decent progress, by all accounts. The sharp cracks of blaster fire joined with the high pitched whine of Natassia's X-32 to create a cacophony of violence that shook the chamber and filled the listeners with a sense of action. Seizing upon this rush of battle-induced adrenaline Serixibis dives into the fray, her Vibro-lance held high as the droid Vahliath had just moments before knocked off balance rights itself...straight into the tip of her weapon! With a resounding ~Crack!~ and the scream of malfunctioning servo-motors the droid's chest plate is torn open, sparks showering Serixibis as she leverages her pole arm up and flings the now deactivated unit aside. A brief nod is spared toward the silver-haired Sith for his assistance before she leaps into the thickest of the fighting alongside several other Acolytes, supporting them as they work to clear three more of the battle units and defend Natassia and her heavy weapon.

 

[Mythos]

"I hate droids..."

Mythos surprised to say the least seeing this massive congregation of darksiders and would be sith among the tomb, usually he preferred the digs and research left to the more capable and elite as to limit the amount of damage that would incur during the digs. A tiny scratch would leave artifacts being worthless yet here, now that a dozen HK units were unleashed there would be little choice. Resigned, not currently engaged in order to save his strength Mythos hung back, leaving the fighting to the acolytes and the unitiated, in the same thought as [member="Darth Ferus"]. Speaking of which...

Mythos had trained as a Sith Assassin before he was anythign else, before Atrisia, before his death, before Commenor and the fall of Lujo, before the rise of the Ancient Eye there was him and Ferus and the dark lady and Phyrrus as his teachers in what was in essence being sith. The voice in the echo of violence brought back memories and vision that reminded him of fire and pain. Where Vulcanus' ashes left a smell of sulfur and rot he could not help but consider the smell nostalgic for some reason, Mythos never put those pieces together.

As Animus Malgus, former Darth Mythos, former Assassin scanned the room he came upon the sight of a being he had not seen for more or less one decade. Here he was in the face of he who taught him the basics of Juyo, the training that set him in the path to being a specialist in lightsaber combat of the forbidden form.

"It has been a long time" He said, blocking the entrance with his frame and producing his lightsaber from his terentatek leather cloak, a cloak which he tossed aside leaving nothing but his boots and Tuk'ata leather pants on. "If i remember correctly, you promised me you would continue my training."​

 

[Darth Ferus]

"Oh dear." It was all the elder man said as [member="Mythos"] moved in his path. The Zabraks red eyes fell upon the familiar face of a once Assassin, and pity could be seen within them. "Once, I promised an Assassin another lesson. But that assassin is no more, as is that same promise." As he spoke Ferus came to a stop, his cane no longer echoing as he stared down his new quarry. Unlike Mythos however he made no move to grasp a weapon or even show hostility, instead keeping bent over and favoring his cane like a picture perfect old man.

"Why do you bother me? I have business in this tomb, and none with you."

 

[Mythos]

Unexpected? It could be said but in reality it was not. Mythos knew that as much as The Sith Empire looked like the One Sith, felt like the One Sith and even bore it's same faces it was not The One Sith. The One Sith he had known and called home was nothing more than distant memory. What more could he had asked for? This galaxy he had returned to was a galaxy he did not recognize. The sound of a crack caused him to turn his gaze to a pureblood [member="Serixibis"], the movement in her form reminiscent of old times. He cracked the smallest smile as the droid fell before her strike. Vibro Lance... Unique, exotic and damn well executed. She must be one of his, showed the same spunk and excitement to kill for Ferus as he did so long ago.

He looked back at Ferus, matching the exact same pity but beneath a layer of anger and disappointment. His voice was old not in the sense of time but in the sense of a nostalgic echo that vibrated in the past that felt oh so long ago. It wasn't just long, it was another lifetime entirely. Was it they who had changed? Or was it Mythos who had changed? Did it matter anymore?

He sighed, placing his lightsaber on his belt. "My Apologies then, I must have mistaken you for another. Eyes are not the same as they used to be"

A metallic sound landed on the floor just before he turned his back on him, it's echo being both familiar and strange to him now... His hidden blade.
[member="Darth Ferus"]​

 

[Darth Ferus]

The bracer would not hit the ground after [member="Mythos"] tossed it. Instead it floated in the air, crushing in the invisible hold of the Sith Lord. Ferus had not moved, but his gaze narrowed upon the figure of the once assassin. "Disrespectful to the end, is it? You no longer belong here, never did." As he spoke the screeching of metal being crushed on itself filled the air. A frown settled on his lips as his pitying gaze fell upon the once Sith Lord.

"You will go now, remove your taint from Korriban, or I will kill you."

 

[Mythos]

The words of the ancient master Ferus were the sweetest thing Mythos had heard since he heard the march of his armies in Nibelungen. He stopped walking and smiled, he could not hep but to chuckle. Slowly he turned around, yellow eyes meeting the eyes of Ferus for the first time in a long time. He had waited for this moment for almost one decade... When he faced Ferus for the first time he had an been an Acolyte, he had been nothing more than a pup in the eyes of the Sith Assassin.

Now he was all grown up.

Enjoyment in combat, that is the first rule of juyo and the only rule apart from never relenting in attack. He could hear his words echo in his mind as if it was right now.​

"Juyo is all about the offensive. Attack till you drop, let aggression take over! Give yourself to the Dark!"

"Let the Force flow through you to increase your strength and your speed! Do not halt, and do not forgive. Overpower what ever stands in your way."

​

"Never sacrafice balance! Juyo is about the offensive. Ignore the defensive, keep your balance, and attack!"

His smile widened and his lightsaber ignited in his right hand, the red blade of crimson fire bathing him in it's glow before the second blade ignited in it below.
"Victory or death... Master"

[member="Darth Ferus"]​

 

[Darth Ferus]

The now hateful gaze of Darth Ferus narrowed upon [member="Mythos"] and the glowing red blade he held. The Lord did not move, but the force swelled around him and threatened death. The shifting sand beneath them churned before rushing up to swallow the pretender. The sand itself hardened into spike like protrusions, aiming to claw and embed themselves into Mythos. Yet all the while he did nothing, his eyes not even twitching as he began this fight.

 

[Darth Sibilus]

Darth Sibilus had disappeared, and those who had been observing him from his vantage point did not so much as notice his sudden absence. The Lord of Torment would rather gouge out his own eyeballs than watch two Sith Lords have a pointless duel in some forsaken tomb, when he could be busying himself with other activities - tomb raiding. Furthermore, most of these acolytes seemed utterly incompetent in eliminating the competition. "If you want a job done right, do it yourself, Drios." his father had always said, before his untimely demise by the hands of his firstborn. And that was just what he was going to do.

Slinking like a shadow, it was surprising how effectively the giant Epicanthix had hidden himself from the prying eyes of his enemies, his own eyes scanning vehemently for any clues as to where to delve next. The Force led him deeper still into the tomb, his fingers tracing ancient hieroglyphics across the archaic stone, silently wishing he knew how to unlock the secrets of the tomb with his mind. Cursing his heritage for a moment, he continued, ever vigilant for traps along the way. The Force gathered just a little deeper in the tomb, darkness whorling and swirling like a devilish tornado, eager to entrance the unworthy, those who were not powerful enough to succumb to sickness and ultimate corruption should it engulf their wandering souls.

 

[Mythos]

The dark side of the force moved like a whirlwind around his old master but instead of precaution or care he only held in his heart the excitement and joy of single combat just like he had so long ago. For the third time since his Resurrection Mythos was to face down a warrior of his own caliber and he intended for it to be a victory just like both times that preceded it. Tendrils made of sand came for him and Mythos returned it with a smile. "Theatrics Ferus? You are going to have to do better than that!"

The twin blade swirled, every technique Mythos had learned of Juyo up into this point let him batter the tendrils one by one with his blade. He was not going to be put on the defensive, that much he remembered, he met the attack of the tendrils with attacks and strikes from the blades of his own lightsaber. When sand met plasma something truly beautiful happened, the superheated particles of it met with the pressure of the strikes made every slice he executed turn into glass crystals.

Mythos cut a path through the sand and headed straight for his old master.

[member="Darth Ferus"]​