Tropic Thunder [Grayson Imperium]

[Jegy Sesara]

Befuddling a Jedi was something of a smile to his face...and then he realized at that moment, this Jedi was not a Force Ghost. He should have realized it earlier, now that he was near a droid on top of it all but alas, it finally gave him notice. The Sullustan was possibly now the smartest person in the group...or at least, the most experienced in the matters that may lie ahead. It also pleased him very slightly that he had no idea what it was though at the same time, made him fearful of what was to come. A Jedi that had no idea how to use Force Light? The one who leads the group? Unacceptable though maybe it also showed that the Jedi from before could be changing....to what they were supposed to be.

"What I used was something of the Force...it repels those of the Dark Side and sometimes destroys them. It is a beacon of all technically that is good, lawful and compelling of the Light Side. Problem is...each one of us that knows it, differs from one individual to the other. One can glow as if made of gold around his body, the Dark Side of the Force unable to look at him or get burned by a simple touch. Others can project it like a beam of sunlight, burning those before them and sometimes severing their connection to the Force if delved to deeply into the Dark Side. Some can be like me...holding a literal ball of Light, holding it out to remove the Dark Side and keep them at bay of the spirits."

Making a small gesture with his right hand, he would show how he would do it but did not summon the ball, holding it in an arch with his fingers outstretched before him. The right eye would drift a moment to this droid named Dak, examining him as he had to keep an eye of all he had, considering this droid seemed to have a lot of firepower. Then he would look back at Cedric, explaining a bit more as they walked.

"The power noted you saw is known as Force Light. Those who are of the Light, those righteous in their beliefs can wield it without harm...others like me, while what we believe and focus on what makes it right, we are not all of purity and we can be burnt from it. I have my demons to deal with...hence why it burns me for it reacts to what I have done, what has been inflicted upon me. It is difficult to do...but if you focus on here and now, look upon those of the Dark Side and feel no emotion, but what is right and lawful, what must be done, then you can do it as well but how it will react to you...I have no idea though then again, I am rambling now, what do I know."

Then they entered into a room, being told to be careful as it could be a trap. Jegy was sadly oblivious to most danger, almost in a horrible statement of how naive he can be at times. Walking straight into the room, he would stare at his right hand as the dead skin started to fall off, falling in pieces onto the skeletons. Before him, he would note the skeletons of a Rodian and even a Cerean before them, thinking carefully of his next action. The temperature was almost below freezing now, his skin should shiver a little but he shook his left arm a bit, the whirring being heard of it being mechanical in nature as he spoke out loud to what he thought it was, hearing the thump.

"I believe the term is...a mass grave, as if the bodies all came here at one single point in time, to fight off something...and instead, all got killed in a large battle. I would say...if this is a trap, whatever killed them, whatever harbors ill feeling...it has survived all this time, feeding off of it. If a Sith Spawn...it would be merciful to let it become one with the Force, to allow its suffering to finally end."


[member="Dak"]
[member="Cedric Grayson"]

 

[Dak]

[member="Cedric Grayson"] | [member="Jegy Sesara"]​

[SIZE=10pt]The droid pays little attention to the Sullustan’s ramblings of the Force. Instead, he remains focused on what he perceives to be the real threat; the ravenous beast-men who were likely swarming their allies above. This was a real and tangible enemy, and more specifically one he could grasp and combat. Allocating space within his primary performance banks to ponder the seemingly senile Jedi’s mysticism would only serve to waste resources. It was beyond him.

Though as the subject turns to mass graves and Sith-spawn, Dak’s focus is finally pulled from their surroundings. The droid snaps his firearm to either side as he passes into the frozen room, cautiously following behind the Sullustan while noting the deceased laying about. Whatever happened here clearly happened long ago. He remains silent, assessing his various sensors in search of any indication that the group might not alone in this soiled chamber.[/SIZE]

 

[Placeholder 0128]

Cedric allowed [member="Jegy Sesara"] to explain himself as he liked. Truthfully the Jedi Master hadn't heard the Sullustan properly when he asked of Force Light initially. it was a skill the Jedi Master was intimately familiar with, but he'd not recognized that it was what Jegy was attempting to utilize. Rather than cut in, he just nodded along.

"I don't -" The Jedi Master's words were cut off as the head of the tomb burst open.

It blew off the hinges, crashing straight into the ceiling above, before falling unceremoniously to the ground with a thud. Green smoke spilled forth from the coffin as a gnarled, rotten hand reach out into the din. The voice that spoke reverberated all around them, as if whispered into each of their skulls.

"Come to plunder as the last?" It hissed. The smoke abated somewhat, revealing a shriveled corpse whose blackened skin just barely clung to the bone. "I have already made my bargain with the Dashade, slaves. The only pact you'll find here is that of the grave."

The green mist spread outward, enveloping the mounds of skeletons. The cadavers slowly became animated, rising up on shaky limbs as they arrayed themselves in a protective gesture around the corpse-thing.

Thinking quickly, the Jedi spoke up. "What bargain? Are the flesh raiders riled up because of you?"

The corpse-thing hissed a malignant laugh. "Indeed. The Dashade promised me a cult in exchange for my...services." It paused for a moment. The corpse-thing's frail skull lifted a few inches, its empty sockets peering straight at @Dak. "What is this unliving thing? I am curious."

In that moment, Cedric felt an unpleasant shift in the empyrean. He felt a sharp pain in his abdomen - so much so that he doubled over for a moment. The pain was gone in an instant, but with it came sensations of dread and suffering through the bond he shared with [member="Loske Matson"]. Something was very wrong, but there was nothing he could do this far down.

------------------------​

​

[member="Loske Matson"], [member="Alyson Halle"], [member="Pom Stych Tivé"]​

One-Eye was having none of it. He waited with the patience of a chained dog as they applied their healing techniques to the yellow-pink human. He did not understand why she seemed so crippled - a Flesh Raider could shrug off several blaster bolts, but these humans went down with one? He was beginning to doubt his decision to support them against the master.

"If you not walk, I carry," One-Eye grunted as he kneeled down, preparing to scoop up Loske the moment her companions cleared it. There was little time to waste, and the longer they were away, the more time the Master would have to gather his forces.

"Fix quick. We go. Tunnel not far here."

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Hocus pocus, away we go cus' ​

​

The concern from everyone was influencing Loske's senses, and it frustrated her. Thankfully, Pom suggested they split up so she'd stop being a impediment to the group's progress. Even with heavy eyelids, Loske was able to see a swath of small potions in the bodice of the witch, and couldn't help but raise her eyebrows in surprise. She'd never seen anything like it. The myriad of technicolour and tiny containers were beautiful, but sinister. Truly, she was horrified that one of them was going to be used on her, and she was about to start protesting from fear, but realized that wouldn't be the best move given her condition. Anything would help at this point.

The elixir dripped from the lips of the decanter, and Loske prepared to feel the liquid on her skin with a wince. She was prepared to feel wet but she was not prepared to feel ice cold.

Loske was distinctively aligned to the light side of the Force. The potion that [member="Pom Stych Tivé"] was using on her was the opposite. It's origins were from darkness. Despite the best intentions, it stretched through her sinews and cells with ice-cold severity. Loske's eyes popped open with surprise and she wriggled in physical disagreement against Pom's machinations. It was futile, and the potion stretched one edge of the cauterized wound to the other, following the instructions of the sorceress to weave back together. Cells overlapped with cells, muscles reaching out to one another to tighten anew as if they'd never been seared. It was fascinating and impressive to watch. The skin that had not been was resurrected, and closed the gap where the bottom part of her shirt had been, making it look more like a wardrobe malfunction than a fatal wound.

"Woah.." She murmured, impressed. The dark side within the potion abated the intensity of the fragmented bogan that had been used in the blaster that had struck her - it was like they became mutually exclusive and neutralized each other.

"No, no, it's okay." She waved the one-eyed fellow away, still looking down at her abdomen which was starting to look like the scar might even be miniscule. As if to prove a point, and show immediate appreciation for the witchcraft, she rose to stand. A little slow at first, but poised when she finally unfolded her legs. "Don't carry me. Let's find the others, let's get out of here."

Reaching out to Pom in, what would be a hug if accepted, she gave a squeeze. "Thank you, wow, that was...all very incredible."

Pulling away, she gave herself a final pat in disbelief, before looking back up to [member="Alyson Halle"]. "Lead the way?"

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

As Loske Treicolt embraced Pomsty in her gratitude, the Nightsister felt a sudden rush of overwhelming emotion. She had not expected the approach, nor the intense Light found nestled deep within the core of the young one's being. It showered over the Witch like waters of purification. Her countenance immediately fell and almost commanded tears from her eyes, which she quickly forbade.

Her expression condemned to solemnity, she knew full well that she did not have a cultural inkling how to courteously respond. This is not family; or is it now? The ramifications of such progression would surely call for determination. To begin, Pomsty felt the trust rendered by these whom she hardly even knows an inclusiveness she could never have prepared herself to witness. They had been accepting of her presence from the start, despite their stark differences in Dogma, causing Pomsty's to be considered an apostasy to the Jedi's Way, and here and now is a show of emotion by the young one?

"It's nothing really," she offered. Not that drawing the girl back from pain to healing is nothing, but that the process did not in any way steal anything from Pomsty…except for the ownership of her immortal Soul. But really, she lost that to her demons long ago, and this magick is truly of no consequence to the ole Witch.

Her eyes darted around, anywhere but to meet the child's, her chin quivered lightly until she recovered her poise! "Thank you," she muttered, more like a question really, or a statement confused. "I guess we're off then," she affirmed, anticipating Alyson Halle shall wish to proceed to the cyclops individual’s camp, while still fighting the onslaught of sensations stirred. Somewhere in that moment, in the back of her mind, the Nightsister formed a pact, and in it a vow to assure this young Jedi's survival, the closest thing she has to friendship at the moment.

 

[Alyson Halle]

While getting to the one eyed man's camp was of the utmost importance, finding Cedric was at the top of her priority list at the moment. They wouldn't have a chance against this foe alone, she knew that deep inside her. She knew she had no chance of navigating this place, even with her senses attuned as they were, the space was far too complex.

This was a place of the dead. The souls of those who had died thousands of years ago still lingered in a sense, perhaps not as much as they did on Merides, but still enough to the point where she could do something. It would tax her greatly to do so, she would not be in much of a fighting shape after this, but it was her duty to get her people out.

In the midst of life we are in death.

She closed her eye, and took the bright blue crystal from her pocket, and held it close to her chest. She let the force around her flow through her, into the crystal, and back out into the enviornment, the raw chaotic energies of the force tearing at her very being. The conduit which she had formed caused her one eye to glow a blue in the same color as the crystal itself, and she began to chant, to help with the channeling.

of whom may we seek for succour,

A slow wind began to pick up, as the blue light slowly grew brighter and brighter, Alyson felt her very essence being torn apart but she did not falter. She used her experiences to hold herself together, remembering her entire life as well as she could, to grasp onto herself, lest she be lost in the torrent of energy that was being flown through her.

but of thee, O Lord

The wind abruptly stopped, and the blue light died. The only sound now was the Meridian chanting echoing through the caves. Slowly, blue forms began to shimmer into view, robed figures, members of the ancient Jeda'ii order. They began to appear all the way down the cavern, lighting the way. They spoke no words, merely pointing the direction that they must follow.

who for our sins
art justly displeased?

Alyson started walking, expecting the rest of the group to follow, slowly moving into the caverns, now lit with a dim, ghostly blue. Their ancestors would be their guides.

Do not cast us away in our old age; When our strength fails us do not abandon us O Lord.
O Lord God most holy, O Lord most mighty, O holy and most merciful Saviour,
deliver us not into the bitter pains of eternal death.

Pom Stych Tivé Loske Treicolt P Placeholder 0128

 

[Jegy Sesara]

"Great...more undead bullshit."

The Sullustan would say out loud as he watched this mummified figure slowly raise from his coffin. The corpses around them would slowly raise up from the dead, almost like a horror movie though for the Sullustan, this was not the first...it was actually the second time he had encountered this though how he stopped it the first time...he could not remember. Watching the undead take interest in the droid before them made the Sullustan smile lightly, it meant they had a small advantage as he slowly spoke up.

"Oh great one, we may have disturbed your slumber but this tomb is but only a resting place for true slumber. Do you not wish to feel the warm touch? Do you not wish to feel fulfillment once more? To feel life itself course through your body, in a brand new life? That is what death is for me, for what I have experienced so long ago...to see those who we miss."

As the Sullustan would talk, he slowly walked forward with his arms outstretched, almost like a preacher talking of religion as he wondered if any of this confused those around him. Stopping near the coffin area, almost fifteen feet away, he would slowly raise his arms a bit more though kept the Force at his will in case he needed either a quick exit or to stop an attack through the Force if need be.

"I seek it still...that honorable death, that honorable cause to where when we all finally rest...we see what we been missing. The next chapter in our life...I may not know what drove you to be here, to get yourself to where when you only awaken with rage and anger but maybe...I been there to."

Near the last part of his sentence, his voice would lower just slightly, the emotion behind it would signify just lightly how that path had affected him so long ago. Lowering his arms slowly near his belt, he would look over the blackened figure as he would speak a bit more, letting him know what he thought and felt.

"You have lived a long time suffering, being of anguish and rage...let me guide you back home, let me help you."


[member="Dak"]
[member="Cedric Grayson"]

 

[Dak]

P Placeholder 0128 Jegy Sesara
​

Dak only barely manages to avoid an immediate, reactionary squeeze of the trigger as the tomb bursts. This was different than the previous visions; the droid saw it too. Quick scans of the mist yielded no results and the uncertainty put the unit on edge.

His momentary captivation at the liche-being addressing him directly is broken when Cedric fumbled backward. His sensors fail him against such dark arts and so his receptors bounce between each of the unliving servants attempting to gauge them from a strictly visual assessment.

They appeared weak and poorly assembled. Putrid flesh moving over rotten bones, forced to function through nothing other than foul sorcery. Creatures beyond logic and explanation. There was only one way to know for sure whether his mundane weaponry could stand a chance.

Without a response to the abomination’s question, Dak squeezes the trigger of his ACR and attempts to put down several of the animated corpses with rapid, precise double-taps, all while taking cautious steps backward to increase the distance between them.

 

[Placeholder 0128]

With Pom Stych Tivé , Loske Treicolt , Alyson Halle

"What in da gobly gook be this?" One-eye bellowed, his hands rising up to his face in astonishment as the robey ghost people started to appear all along the cavern. He knew of the weird magicks the robe people used - he'd been on the receiving end of it several times - but this was new. Generally speaking they just threw things with their little head meats, or shot crackle juice from their fingertips.

Could they summon dead people too?

"Dey is not gonna fight?" He asked after a few seconds of apprehension. Eventually, One-Eye strode up to one of the specters, sticking his meaty finger through its incorporeal form.

The cold feeling that followed was something he decided he didn't like, and he quickly took off after the robe master girl. "Don't like." He grunted as he caught up to the group."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
​

With Dak , Cedric, and Jegy Sesara

​

Jegy's words might well have calmed the specter. It had not spoken with a kind soul in several hundred years, and they had always come to try and banish it to the darker places. Always young heroes in search of glory: those same heroes now rose as cadavers all around the corpse thing. It leaned forward, head tilting as the Sullustan spoke his piece.

"Perhaps," it began. There was more to be said, but that was drowned out by the crack of Dak 's blaster. The cadavers fell quickly, bits of flesh and bone melting beneath the plasma slag. Yet as they fell, they rose again in an even more shambled state, but this time they charged the trio, screaming unintelligibly in their fury.

It was all Cedric could do to take a few steps forward and cleave his blade through several of the corpses so that Jegy wouldn't be surrounded, buying the Sullustan a moment to get back to the group.

"Deceiver!" The corpse-things howled. "Liars! Thieves! You speak words of honey whilst holding a dagger behind your back!" The tomb-corpse raised a skeletal hand, and veins of red lightning spilled forth.

Cedric shouted as the lightning carved its way up his arm, the energy searing his flesh and causing significant pain. He bit back a curse, reorienting the Blade of Ruusan to meet the lightning, and found himself caught fending off the assault from the creature.

"Nice shooting," Cedric shouted over the fray, his voice dripping with sarcasm as the corpses charged him, eager to rend the Jedi to pieces while he was busy fending off the lightning.

 

[Jegy Sesara]

The Sullustan appeared to have made progress with the specter. Far to many he had met over the years had been trapped, in their anguish and torment, seeking to just move on with their life. Before he could even hear the specter of the past speak one word, the shot of a blaster erupting as he only gave one glance with a horrified look. The fool had shot at the people laid here, what the one person controlled...the chance was now gone, the droid had possibly killed them all. Cedric gave the Sullustan much needed time to prepare, the roar of the creatures chanting through the Dark Side of the Force, hearing what they believed was true. The red lightning arced before him, narrowly passing him and straight into Cedric whom apparently knew how to keep it at bay with a lightsaber. A skill he honestly thought, not many knew of anymore. The reanimated corpses were soon charging closer as he merely looked forward towards the main specter, knowing where the source of their power came from and now knowing, what must be done.

As the first of the corpses got close to the Sullustan, he would quickly grab with his left hand his own lightsaber, one that had been with him for hundreds of years. The songsteel hilt would had a very faint gold etching around it as it would ignite with a SNAP HISS noise, an emerald green with a gentle hue of aqua blue near the outer edges would come out, making a slash upwards as the first of many corpses were killed before him, striking right through the center of the chest and through the skull. When two more came closer, he would slash from the upper left to the lower right, striking down two of them as he slowly made his way forward towards the specter before him as the red lightning most likely continued on.

Every strike seemed to take down two but three more would take their place. It was a never ending horde of enemies, the situation itself almost looked hopeless before them. After a while, one would grab to tug on him, the next moment the limb on the corpse was gone as another would come onto him, and then another. Very slowly, his strength to fight him would fail, feeling their claws rip into his skin, the punches and tugs against his clothing as he was slowly buried in corpses. It was the end, what a way to go.

-----------------------------------------------
"You Need Me...Let Me In!"
"This is my death...let me rest."
"You....NEED ME!"
"No...not anymore I do not. My anger is no longer where I am lead."
"You will then DIE!"
............
""Wake Up..."
"Wake Up.."
"Wake Up."
"Wake Up!"
"Wake Up! You are not dying here!"
-----------------------------------------------
​

The Sullustans eyes were closed, his left arms fake flesh being ripped apart as he felt part of his scalp bitten. His clothing being torn asunder into rags, trying to claw onto him while on the ground yet, a loud shriek of a voice could be heard from the pile. It was of Tusken Dialect, a shriek of pain yet of also acceptance as the Force would surround his body for a moment and then used Force Repulse, throwing off the entire group of corpses off his own body. Jegy would slowly stand, bloodied from head to toe, his robes almost in ruins with his arms in the worst shape as the glow of the purple tattoo on his right arm would be the most visible. As the corpses would approach again, the Sullustan would hold his right arm up, palm into the sky as he produced Force Light again, much brighter than before as it would cut off the connection of the Dark Side before the corpses, possibly making them collapse.

Looking forward at the Specter, this time less than ten feet away, he would activate the songsteel lightsaber once more as the bright emerald green and aqua blue would slowly radiate with the shining glow of the Force Light. Slowly he took one step forward, then another as he moved his lightsaber towards the arc of the red lightning, trying to capture it himself, if although weakly as his right hand and slowly down his wrist, would turn black from using Force Light. Speaking up with each step, he felt his energy slowly fade but he felt something or someone driving him once more, giving that energy to push forward beyond all of a normal Sullustans limits.

"It...is not...to late. Life...is waiting on the other side. Let me...show you."

Each step would bring him closer, walking up the steps of his coffin if he had any and watched his eyes, deflecting the red lightning if he had gotten close now, the Force Light being much brighter. However, his upper forearm to the tips of his fingers were now black, the only thing that was not was the purple tattoo, visibly showing the symbol of the Galactic Empire if looked hard enough along with the markings of what he was before, a follower of the Prophets.

P Placeholder 0128
Dak

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

The Nightsister is still able to utilize the power her dark god had granted her...his persistent and last ditch effort to gain control over her as he was always before this fateful day. His understanding regarded her craving for power and truth, which he thought he could hang over her head to sway her to return to worshiping him. Little did Pomsty know, redemption is in store mere hours away, and the orchestration of it shall actually play out because of these many aggressive actions of her own dark god.

The thought passed through Pomsty’s mind if perhaps she were being lead to die here. Asked not to do magick, and yet this Sorceress and Necromancer is plunged into the catacombs.

Something unexpected had occurred upon the surface. Someone she met long ago, who wore her amulet for protection had just arrived on the planet and they require her immediate assistance. She could sense their presence fading.

Pomsty was following Alyson Halle 's lead, when she took hold of Loske Treicolt 's arm and pulled her aside. "I have to help someone. Your master needs you. Take this satchel to wherever you feel you should need it most, before opening it. There is always a source of power, a leader of the undead, wait till you identify that one spirit." The Jedi knows there will be undead; right? This happens all the time to the Nightsister; no worries! "Open this satchel. Let the force inside expel the evil spirits. Then say this, Gli hechena hci, it means return right now! Glee hay-chay-nah gh-chee. Glee hay-chay-nah gh-chee. Glee hay-chay-nah gh-chee. Got it?" What could possibly go wrong with this plan? What could be trapped inside the suede satchel that could battle the undead? Enslaved within the satchel is an Angel. That's what! A Lightside entity that certainly is of no concern to Light aligned individuals. To Pomsty however...that is why she needs the thing drawn back into the satchel!

Pomsty Apparated into thin air again. If cyclops dude gripped onto her like before, he is in for vomitus ride this time around. Pomsty raced back towards the opening of the catacombs. She saw the Flesh Raiders gathering just outside. She again raised an Illusion to frighten them away from the tunnels, while uncapping a Befuddlement Potion to further confuse them.

The Witch remained unseen while she flew through the air from that point, headed towards her amulet worn by her old friend, a plume of smoke signaling the location where his ship came down.

Draconis Caesar lay unconscious, the Nightsister stopped to materialize by his side. She cloaked them both as she went to work on him as she had the young Jedi, while recharging her own constitution with a Potion for herself.

 

[Loske Treicolt]

An unnatural breeze ruffled her loose hair, and she reached up to tame it while Alyson Halle started to glow and murmur rhythmic undertones. As quickly as it started, it ended -- the only remaining part of the event the ongoing chants. Wide-eyed, she looked around the cavern. Spectres evidenced themselves in her peripherals and before them, silently directing their steps with helpful intent. She mouthed an awe-struck incredible - but made no sound while looking up at the hidden faces of the azure figures.

For once, she partly agreed with one-eye. As miraculous as this was, it was unnerving to be strolling between dead chaperones. She didn't get too wrapped up in it though, because she felt pressure on her bicep and was yanked from her trajectory, finding pause near the fluttering robes of a former Jed'aii. There was a sense of urgency to Pom Stych Tivé 's words from the outset that made Loske focus in on what the witch was saying. She found an ancient purse thrust into her grip, and she looked down at it while the instructions were relayed. The first time Pomsty recited the invocations she just listened, the second time she mouthed along, realizing that Pomsty intended to teach her because she was going to have to do something with this sack of... force? Did she say the Force was in here? She willed herself not to open it, and intoned the saying along with Pomsty by the fourth time. The fifth time she pronunciation was mostly correct.

"Got it." She confirmed. For now. One of Loske's greatest detriments was her poor memory. Hopefully all the reciting would do her wonders and overcome the typical short fallings of the clone's spliced DNA.

Without any explanation about what it would be that Loske would unleash on the dead, Pom disappeared and left the girl holding onto the satchel dumbfounded. As if seeking answers, she looked up at the empty face of one of the dead Jedi before turning back to catch up with Allyson and One-Eye, slinging the bag over her shoulder. At the same time, her arm tingled with a pain that was not her own. She winced, feeling a frustrated pressure on the ethereal tether shared with P Placeholder 0128 . Something was wrong.

 

[Draconis Caesar]

Consciousness waxed and waned for Draconis, all the while the dull presence of a warmth upon his chest grew heavier with each passing moment. He felt the heat of the thing begin to grow. He focused upon the warmth channeling his thoughts into it as he fought to stay alive. The taste of copper within his mouth threatened to consume him. He coughed and red bile covered his helmets view port. He turned slightly attempting to move and pain cascaded through his body. As the pain renewed his grip on reality faded. His power armor had injected his body with bacta, but even so it was not enough to heal his now crippled form. Draconis was dead in the water and he knew it.

For some reason his mind drifted back to his time as a padawan. His masters words echoed through his head and he heard them clearly.

"Patience young one, your rage clouds your judgment. Become one with the force and let it guide you..."

The words echoed through his mind and Draconis felt something begin to pull him away from the focus upon his chest. He saw a great ocean and it parted. He walked through the canyon of water. He saw the sands of Thyrsus and his father. The man's loving smile greeted him and his father beckoned him forth with a wave of the hand. Draconis had done terrible thing during his time as a Sun Guard and yet still his father welcomed him with open arms... Draconis stared at the man in disbelief, yet once more his master's words echoed through his mind.

"Become one with the force..." This time they rang more clearly, yet they were barely heard.

Draconis ran through the part towards his father.

"Draconis!" His father shouted merrily yet the voice was faint.

As if from across a long hall.

"Father!" Draconis called and suddenly he was a child again.

He reached towards his father with small hands and laughed.

"One with the force..." His master whispered into his ear

Suddenly Draconis was wrenched from the vision as the warmth upon his chest became a burning coal that threatened to consume him.

He inhaled sharply and pain wracked his chest. His eyes shot open and his right arm shot forth to grab hold a hand. He expected to be greeted by his father's loving hand but instead found another. She was familiar and Draconis mind took a moment to register what had happened to him. The Empyrean had called to him and threatened to consume him, making him one with the force. Whoever this was had somehow brought him back. Draconis stood in disbelief at the strange woman and felt his limbs ache, but somehow he was able to move them. Slowly he began to recognize the woman. She was the nightsister from Dathomir. His mind raced back to the time his ship had crashed upon the planets cold surface and he had sought refuge in the woman's home.

She welcomed him happily and made him a necklace which Draconis had thought was a mere trinket of powerful magics. But, as time went on... When he got close to danger the thing seemed to warm warning him of impending doom and seemingly saving him. It had become like a sort of sixth sense and Draconis had relied on it so heavily that he had scarcely noticed it's assistance. Accepting it as part of him. He stared at the woman in disbelief and his hands moved to his helmet. He removed the armor carefully and his dreads fell from the carapace. He frowned at what he had seen. He had not thought of his father in years.

He studied his father in his minds eye and shook his head as if the vision would fade. He found himself staring at the ground in seemingly deep thought. His eyes moved from the earth to the woman who had saved him, then to the wreckage of the downed ship.

"Help me search the wreckage, then..." He said dismissively to his old friend. "Then we will find who did this and have our vengeance," He finished with venom in his voice.

He wiped the inside of his helmet out with gloved hand and it came out crusted in a faint red film. He walked towards the wreckage and began to scan it carefully.

Pom Stych Tivé 's

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

She felt his conflict as she pulled him back into his worldly life. When he arose startled, she dropped all magick, the fighting erupted a ways in the distance for the time being.

The Nightsister’s mouth dropped slightly, but her eyes narrowed. Draconis Caesar did not exhibit any gratefulness for retaining his life. Does he prefer death? Death over meeting her again? He did not seem to flaunt that same emotion the last time they had met. Or, had he merely slammed his head against the earth too hard? She straightened her spine before him and held her head high, as she pursed her lips and cocked a brow in scrutiny. She prefers his personality before, over that of today. When she had met him, he had been a student of the light or so he claimed, but she knew better; for like most young men he turned out to be no Jedi after all. Had her dark amulets helped mold him in this fashion? She realizes now that she did not recognize his presence exactly, but it was her own mark upon him that she had initially identified. A mark that used to cause him to visit her when she had called, until the time it seems they both grew tired of such games and moved on.

“Trust that they are beyond my mending technique,” she stated regretfully at his immediate concern to search for survivors, unable to sense viable energies among the wreckage. Maybe yet there is something useful to salvage from his ship?

She understood what he had just been through and would take his cold shoulder with a grain of salt. It had been years since their last meeting. “You have landed in the middle of a local uprising,” she said hoping he would snap to usefulness at any moment, rather than standing there seemingly in shock. But she could fathom no idea regarding what this hardened man might want with the Jedi she had arrived to meet on this mission; nor did she understand what exactly P Placeholder 0128 hopes to accomplish here while down in the catacombs, apart from the skirmish. “And the undead are awakened.” For most people that would need elaboration, but not for the Force Sensitive. Regardless of how he received her after all these years, she felt a curiosity to see what tricks he had learned regarding his coming into his power.

The smoke from the fire of his crashed ship is sure to have captured the attention from the Flesh Raiders, the fresh spilling of blood also culprit.

 

[Dak]

Tags: P Placeholder 0128 Jegy Sesara ​

Throwing himself behind the cover of a mound of debris, Dak seems completely and entirely confused for a moment. Malfunction? he tries running a quick scan of his personality matrix, but is interrupted by the need to pop up from cover to put down two advancing corpse-walkers. Crouching back down, he remains at a loss as to what brought on his unwarranted offensive reaction.

Countless internal warning systems begin to go off; hostile movement trackers, increased energy signatures, early warning predictions of enemy maneuvers and finally a priority warning directing the droid's attention to the Lord-Imperator's dire situation.

Dak vaults himself over the mound, racing to Cedric's location with caution throw to the wind; double-taping several more of the charging creatures.

(OOC: I tried to sneak a post in last week while on my LOA and apparently I missed the post where we opted for negotiations with the liche and just started blasting. Woops.)

 

[Placeholder 0128]

Freezing sweat drenched the Jedi Master's flesh as he danced among the dead. One of the undead charged, and he swiftly decapitated it. Another came from behind: Cedric's precognition informed him of such seconds before its claws dug into his exposed neck. He whirled about, spinning on his heel as he cleaved the cadaver from shoulder to hip. Then came another, and another. The Jedi continued his motions, his mind empty, the will of the Force exacted through each stroke of the holy blade.

When one fell, more rose. It was only Dak 's covering fire that kept Cedric from being completely overwhelmed. Still, he could not keep this up forever. His movements started to slow, with time, and one of the beasts managed to rake its claws across the right side of his face, opening flesh, and spilling small rivulets of crimson down his cheek.

The Jedi bit back a curse, and retaliated by hurling the corpse telekinetically into a nearby wall, the force of which was loud enough to thunder above the combat.

It was then that the Sullustan cast a powerful light. It was the will of the Ashla itself, though its channeling was muddied. Cedric felt it as a supreme shift in the Force, and each of the undead simply collapsed, their connection to the Force severed. The lead corpse-thing screamed as the light burned its unholy flesh.

With surprising agility, the corpse-thing ripped itself from its coffin, and charged off on all fours down an adjacent hall. A trail of smoke followed it, and Cedric tried to pursue, but the clawing of one of the cadavers not close enough to the Force Light gave him pause.

He quickly dispatched the thing, but by the time it was dead, the leader was gone. Cedric turned back to his allies. "Well," he breathed heavily, taking a moment to center himself. "I think we scared him." He turned to Jegy Sesara . "That was Force Light, but your tattoo...what are you, Jegy?"

----

One-eye was keen not to ask any questions. The Flesh Raider kept pace with Alyson Halle and Loske Treicolt , grumbling along as he went. "They hunt dead ones?" It finally asked. "Not go well, me think. Is ancient thing, terrorize my people for generation."

 

[Jegy Sesara]

The Sullustan barely could see what was going on in front of him. The red lightning finally stopped, a screech of what could be described as agony. It had burnt its flesh, trying to release its anguished spirit from this realm and become one with the Force though it ripped itself from the coffin, going on all fours with even the Sullustan being surprised. Watching it cast off, the Sullustan then very slowly lowered his right arm as the Force Light was extinguished and now, his body could relax. The Force itself was one of the few things keeping Jegy going and now with its presence slowly vanishing for now, he would slowly kneel over and then rest his back onto the coffin before him, breathing heavily as the pain was excruciating.

Unlike before where the black flesh would be gone within moments, this time it would take minutes as his eyes were closed, his mind focusing on closing all the wounds on his body. It was like watching a spider stringing a web, it slowly on each wound looking as if a web was being made and his skin was being remade before their eyes. Apparently, this was a common occurrence as the minor wounds would be finished within seconds while the larger ones took time. The right arm that was blackened, slowly started to heal as it would slowly inch upwards to his hand where the light had once shined upon it. Parts of the burnt flesh would slowly fall off as the new flesh would regrow over it, the smell of the burnt flesh however, would remain near him.

His eyes would trail almost hazily towards the droid, named Dak from what he remembered as he tried to point at him with his left arm. Looking rather annoyed at him, even if in pain, he looked as if to argue with the droid for its stupidity but he could not bring the strength to do so, letting his prosthetic limb fall to his side as it was obvious from afar what it was, the flesh now ripped off it. However, the voice of the Jedi, P Placeholder 0128 ,would ring in his ear, having apparently seen his right arms tattoo as it glowed very faintly now. Swallowing in his throat, he would gently go through his medical pouch to find something to give himself a bit more stamina to stand but right now, was failing to do so.

"They...they always return to where they are laid. I would suggest being...cautious for I do not think I can do that again without consequence. As for...what I am...I am a cursed man. I have lived for over eight hundred years, far more than any man should be allowed to live for."

Looking to the side, his strength slowly returning, he could mess with his left arm more as he went into the medical bag and found a small herb. It looked to be more of a desert plant as he gently suckled on the leaf, putting it into his mouth to chew. He felt a sense of relief, pain relief in particular as his healing would accelerate a bit, allowing him to focus a bit more as he looked up at the pair. His eyes seemed less glazed over now, a bit more alert.

"I was born right as the Clone Wars began and lived most of my life during the Dark Times as some called it. A strife of hell but of law...order in the galaxy. I joined the Galactic Empires military as a recon operative and later on...was discovered to be Force Sensitive. I was taken under apprenticeship of the Inquisition, one of the few aliens allowed for it. From there, I became...what you expect. After a while, I was found out by another group within the Galactic Empire known as the Prophets of the Dark Side. What you see in on my arm is what was considered their membership, tainted tattoo of the Dark Side composed of bright lightning. I was in the fourth circle, on top of being an Inquisitor at the time. I was like that for six years till finally, it fell apart. I was betrayed and the Prophets murdered my family. In response...I killed each one on the planet of Talus and went into self-exile."

The healing process had now gone into his right hand, slowly he would lift up his right arm to examine it as the burnt flesh would slowly fall out of his own palm. Each finger nail would come from being blackened to slowly turning in a white pinkish hue all over again. The Sullustans breathing was no longer so heavy though it can tell in just body language, that he was still drained and this power took a lot out of him. The healing also probably did not help. Glancing upwards a bit, he would explain a bit more in case there was other questions.

"I was considered back then a Healer on top of my profession as a Surgeon, Doctor and Combat Medic. In more...in the Inquisition I was considered an Enforcer, someone who got the job done. You know though....what is the worst of it all though when I think back...that it all started from someone...like you. Yes...a Jedi ruined my life, slaughtered my whole village, cut my throat and left me to die. Then when I felt peace, he showed up again and murdered people in the Hospital, with his so called "Alliance" friends. Since that day for twenty years, I swore that anyone called a Jedi was an enemy of mine. Yes...I slaughtered dozens of them, many whom were just starting...even a few Knights. It was only after I went into Exile did I meet what I considered a real Jedi, an Ithorian Jedi Master who showed me what living in peace felt like. Since that day...I never met anyone else who was like him...nor have I ever seen a Jedi act like one in centuries and changed my way of thinking."

Finally, the healing process would finish as he gasped out in relaxation at long last. The lightsaber that he held was beside him though not once did he try to grab it, to retrieve it to put back onto his belt. Sitting up a bit more, he would spit out the leaves as it had very small seeds in them while grabbing a canteen on his side to sip on some water. Finishing, he would look up at Cedric one last time, his body still rather weak as he gave a very gentle smile, an unusual smile as if expecting something.

"Tattoo I have tried for centuries to heal...to remove. Not once has it worked, it reacts violently to the Light Side of the Force but never once have I succeeded in ridding myself of it. Perhaps it is for the best, a constant reminder of who I was...a person I now regret looking back onto. Then again...Force won't let me age any longer, probably still punishing me for my sins. Well...now you know now Cedric. What do you plan to do with this knowledge?"

 

[Dak]

Tags: Jegy Sesara P Placeholder 0128 ​

As the fighting stops and the liche retreats, Dak lowers his weapon and returns to a state of uncertainty. Doing his best to remain vigilante of their surroundings, he moves toward Jegy and takes a position standing at his side. His malfunction had caused the two of them to be injured; this was not something the droid took lightly.

He watches with concern, but also a peaked interest as the Sullustan's wounds heal before him. He was relieved, at least, to see his actions had not caused the Jedi's demise "I don't know what came over me. An error, I'm certain. We don't have the time for me to run the scans needed to confirm."

Similarly to Sesara, Dak was a product of a bygone age. Such was more obvious for him in moments like this, when his degrading systems failed him. Upgrades would be required; sooner than later.

Dak listens to the tale in silence, absorbing it and attempting to understand the emotional turmoil that may be derived from such things.

The Galactic Empire.

Once more the past seemed fresh.

Dak slings his ACR and kneels beside Jegy, visually scanning over his injuries in more detail. "I was there," he states "in Clone Wars. And before them." His receptors shift to the ex-Inquisitor's eyes, observing them for any nuance signs of withheld emotion. "Perhaps not in the same manner as you, but I understand some of the complexities that come with being lost in time."

The droid holds out a hand, offering to help him stand up. "Please, accept my apologies. The ages affect our kinds in different ways."