What Secrets Do You Hide?

[Darth Veles]

The faded inscriptions slowly gave their secrets away under his curious glare burning through word after word, the Mon Cal’s mind fully focused on silently offering translation from Sith to Basic. Historians interested in the red-skinned people and their ways would find themselves disappointed though; rather than to provide clues and information about the long-dead race, the text told a story about Vyrassu’s conquest of Dromund Vatsu and the great victory over its native inhabitants. This glorified tale gave Veles nothing useful and painted a frown on his face. Disappointment ran rampant through his body, followed by stubborn refusal to accept the forgotten chamber as a mere sacrificial site.

“It talks about Vyrassu,” reveals the Mon Cal, not going into pointless details concerning the man’s feats and victories.

His fingers searched the etched walls by touch, hoping to find some sort of secret button, but met only with a confirmation of the original tale. One glance up, scanning the filthy ceiling with his cybernetic eye; nothing but cobwebs came back as a result. A soft sigh left Veles’ throat as he commanded the Dark Side to direct him, but before the great and mysterious current heeded his call, something rippled through the murky waters of the Force and warned the Sith Lord about an incoming presence. A weak one, yet holding more than enough potential to grow and eventually become a force to be reckoned with. Which could be said about all of Veles’ companions at this point – each and every one of them a potential student.

The Mon Calamari Sith stared the newcomer down with a hard glare. The apparel covering every inch of his skin strongly suggested another Ren. Mental laughter erupted through the amphibian’s mind – this place was a perfect death trap, constantly luring in new and new beings. Had Veles wanted to lead them into a trap, the entire order of Ren would have been wiped out this day, further proving the entire group was in dire need of more training. They’d receive just that, possibly sooner than Veles had originally anticipated.

Fortunately for the new Dark Side practitioner, the amphibian was too obsessed with unlocking the tomb’s power to raise any questions – the Dark Side’s call was driving him mad, but another disturbance came knocking before he allowed his mind to ponder about this malevolent sanctuary’s secrets. First came the distant whizz that grew more apparent as the convoy’s speeders rapidly closed the distance to the camp. Soon enough, shouts and boot thuds coming from outside the dark tunnel followed. Reinforcements have arrived to relieve the outpost’s crew of their lack of food and ammunition, finding dozens of dead bodies instead.

“It seems you finally have a good opportunity to prove yourselves,” delivers the Sith Lord, his smug expression cloaked by shadows.


[member="Decima Fortan"] [member="Skjold Alexeyev"] [member="Caid Centurion"] [member="Enyo Typhos"] [member="Kriel Firin"] [member="Isla Ashen"]

 

[Enyo Typhos]

[member="Darth Veles"], [member="Skjold Alexeyev"], [member="Caid Centurion"], [member="Kriel Firin"], [member="Isla Ashen"], [member="Decima Fortan"]


The big chamber was but a monument to Vyrassu's bloated ego. The faded inscriptions revealed no deep mysteries. No, they only prattled on about Vyrassu's 'glorious' conquest in an attempt to make his tin pot dictatorship seem relevant. This was rather disappointing. Oh, and the chamber was a bit of a death trap since it seemed the cavalry had arrived. Their coming was heralded by the roar of a speeder convoy as they dashed towards the base. Enyo was pulled from her examination of the malevolent sanctuary when she felt and heard their coming. It did not take long before she could hear shouts and the thud of boots from outside the dark tunnel.


A horde of loyalist troopers, diehards still willing to fight and die in the name of their so-called god-emperor, was converging upon their position. Doubtless they were unhappy about the fact that a certain someone had slaughtered their buddies earlier. Actually, Enyo had it under good authority that they were pissed, for she felt their anger and rage through the Force. Good. Their hatred made her stronger. Her command of this technique was still unrefined and more instinctive than targeted, for she was yet a learner. But she soaked these emotions like a sponge does water.


As it soon turned out, Vyrassu's mooks had a retro thing going, since the troopers were clad in silver armour plating and wore reflective masks. Perhaps he was a fan of the Revan and Malak era. He was probably the type to want a Star Forge. Anyhow, the clone decided to kill things. Fortunately, space was a bit limited, which meant that though the troopers were superior in numbers, they could not deploy their full strength.


Her hand did not reach for her bolt pistol like earlier, but her lightsabre. As the first troopers showed up, she ignited it with a snap-hiss. The blade's hilt projected a purple beam of energy. The skull Isla had become acquainted with earlier was lifted into the air and sent hurtling towards a trooper and slammed into his helmet when she turned it into an improvised projectile. Ouch. Clearly Enyo had no respect for the dead.


Leaning into what was a somewhat crude employment of the Soresu stance, the clone deflected shots from the intruders when they began firing. Her moves still left room for improvement, but they were fluid enough to keep her from harm. Some troopers sought cover as blaster bolts were reflected towards them. As if by chance or design, one bolt ricochetted off the wall and caught a trooper in the back.


Smoke coiled from his armour and he fell to the ground. Seeing an opening, the clone threw her lightsabre. The laser sword sailed gracefully through the air with great speed and cut down a soldier. However, this proved to be an error because a wounded soldier lying on the ground got a shot off in this exact moment. Pain shot through her when the crimson bolt grazed the side of her torso.


Luckily for her, it was just a graze, but it was still an unpleasant burn! Unlike her older sister, she did not have class ten beskar'gam. Anger surged through her and she drew upon it, letting the sensation fuel her. There was an almost feral expression on her face. A soldier charged and lunged at her with a vibroblade, thrusting the sword's tip towards her chest. The clone parried the blade downward, then clove him from shoulder to belly. Telekinesis gripped a trooper and pulled him right into the trajectory of a blaster bolt, turning him into an improvised human shield.

 

[Visser Chernykh]

Mael Ren met the amphibian's cold gaze. He could feel the contempt coming off in waves. The same contempt that Mael felt for the alien. The same he felt as he broke his gaze to examine the grandiose chamber.

The Sith's power had faded like the inscriptions in the stone. A truly apt metaphor. Tales of vainglory from thousands of years past. Tales of faded power and petty accomplishments.

Of what use was it to rule a backwater world such as this alone? There was an entire galaxy. A galaxy in desperate need of the guidance of the First Order. Even if they couldn't yet see it.

His meditations were broken by the arrival of the cultists. He took up his carbine as his gaze snapped back to the stairs. Mael's finger pressed the trigger and he began to spray even before they arrived. Several were felled but the weight of their numbers was too great.

They didn't care that he'd killed their fellows. The mob trampled over smoking corpses in their mad rush towards the intruders. All that mattered was expelling those who dared violate their master's sanctum. Mael threw down his carbine and drew his saberstaff.

Twin blades of crimson hissed to life as he rushed in to meet them....

[member="Enyo Typhos"] [member="Darth Veles"] [member="Caid Centurion"] @Kriel Finn [member="Isla Ashen"]

 

[Isla Ashen]

Isla had almost been expecting the chamber to play host to some kind of specters, but perhaps things like that were better left to the old stories. She could not say whether or not such things really existed. It was only the wish of one with an overactive imagination, but it seemed that imagination was the only way to make this place interesting. She watched as [member="Darth Veles"] continued to feel his way around the tomb, his hands sliding across the dirty walls.

Her attention shifted as an unfamiliar form entered, but Isla only spared him a small glance. Had he followed them all the way here?
And again, Isla’s mind was pulled in another direction. This time she felt a rush that was exhilarating. There were sounds outside the chamber that spoke to the arrival of troops. Speeders, footsteps, voices... and they were growing closer. There was no doubt that they had found the field of bodies left above them, and had come for vengeance. She could feel their rage, it was raw and unbridled.

If this chamber wanted blood, it would soon have it.

Isla’s crimson saber was in hand again, and she watched as Enyo ignited her purple saber. A wicked grin crossed her face when she saw the other woman hurl the skull at a trooper; it was a move that she approved of. But now was not the time to muse, it was time to move. Though the chamber was large enough to house the group of Ren, it would be a tight fit for all of their sabers moving through the air, and the blaster bolts coming from all directions.

She knew that she would need to be mindful of her movements, and she would not be able to rely on her eyes alone, she would need to feel with the force. Isla’s gaze immediately found the figure of an injured soldier on the ground, his blaster aimed at Enyo as she moved to strike another. Isla’s boot pushed off the ground, and she was upon him... but she was too late. Her blade went down into the man’s chest, but he’d fired his last shot. A glance behind told her that her fellow Ren was injured, but still lived.

Into the fray, Isla’s saber cut through the air aiming for one of the trooper’s shoulders. He turned out of the way just in time, and when he turned back, his elbow had found Isla’s chest. She slid back a few steps, and had her saber up just in time to hastily block the shots fired by the man’s blaster. The redhead gritted her teeth, this was going to be fun...

[member="Skjold Alexeyev"], [member="Caid Centurion"], [member="Kriel Firin"], [member="Decima Fortan"], [member="Enyo Typhos"]

 

[Visser Chernykh]

The first rank of cultists were cut down like wheat before a scythe. They'd had no time to draw sword nor dagger. Their comrades just behind did and they fell on him without pause. He found himself set upon from all sides.

His duraplast turned aside several blows. Mael's blades were too busy doing their butcher's task. The cultist's fury was bestial and their courage unflagging. Seeing their fellows being felled meant nothing.

Mael roared in pain as a dagger managed a gash in a gap. He smashed the offending party into the wall behind with a open palm. Amplified with his pain and rage the being's spine was pulverized. He wasn't dead but would wish he was.

Crimson life's blood began to pour and it sight renewed his fury. The Dark Side surged from pain and anger. He found himself screaming wordlessly through his vocabulator. But truly it wasn't the pain that angered him as the affront.

Ren effortlessly batted aside a thrust with one blade before thrusting through a throat with the other. He spun to preempt an overhead chop with a hard side kick. Truly there was nothing like this feeling. It was intoxicating.

[member="Isla Ashen"] [member="Enyo Typhos"] [member="Darth Veles"] [member="Kriel Firin"] [member="Caid Centurion"]

 

[Caid Centurion]

It was like a soft pinprick. A nuisance. Caid's bright gaze turned in the direction of the entrance as [member="Darth Veles"]' brief explanation started.

Then it was like someone was gripping the back of his neck, danger senses flaring as the nuisance turned to an irritant. However, the young darksider did not bother to reach for his weapon. Any force that elected to physically come down into the cavern through the narrow entrance was not a tactically sound one. They were here already, established, prepared. In fact were it Caid, he would have simple smoked out any potential intruders or perhaps gassed the entire cavern. There were an infinite amount of better decisions.

As the first troops entered the cavern, Caid merely watched with amusement from a side alcove where he'd been studying symbols and writing. The young Centurion enjoyed challenge, combat. He found that he always learned something about himself and was able to refine his personal combat techniques. That did not, however, mean he merely launched into conflict whenever he could.

At image flashed before his eyes just at that moment, a super-heated bolt of energy racing across the dimly lit expanse and connecting with his chest. It hadn't happened yet, however. Caid was snapped back to the presence, silently cursing his growing need to be able to control such premonitions just as a trooper turned in his direction and took aim. Caid shifted his left shoulder towards the cavern wall behind him, allowing the blaster bolt to pass directly by him. It didn't provoke the depth of his anger so much as amuse him. This amusement slowly slipped into his features as he raised his left hand, arresting the man's body with the power of the Force. In the next instant, Caid took off in a sprint and ripped the man's body towards him.

Just before their two bodies were about to collide, Caid dipped to his left as the black hilt of his lightsaber flew off his belt and into his right hand. The brilliant silver-blade of the weapon activated silently just as the dark-skinned Ren was arcing the hilt into an upward slash towards the man's mid-section. The soldier died instantly as the weapon sliced him in half. Caid spared the result none of his attention, instead maintaining his forward momentum as the blade of the weapon deactivated once more.

Another weapon nearby was raised in Caid's direction and several blaster bolts erupted in his direction. By now, the speed of Caid's physical body was enhanced by the Force, and he didn't bother attempting to deflect the blaster bolts. Relying on his inherent athleticism and extensive training in Ataru, he abruptly shifted his direction. Spring off his left foot, Caid connected his right foot to the side of a cavern wall before pushing his body off in a tight roll. Just as he approached the new foe, the Ren activated the silver-blade once more, splitting the soldier from the top of his head in a diagonal slash towards the opposing armpit.

Landing on his feet, Caid was greeted by yet another blaster bolt racing towards him. The super-heated projectile grazed Caid's shoulder just as he threw his lightsaber at the man's mid-section, guided by the Force.

[member="Skjold Alexeyev"] | [member="Kriel Firin"] | [member="Decima Fortan"] | [member="Enyo Typhos"] | [member="Isla Ashen"]

 

[Darth Veles]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E9vnl-GOy3k​

While the knights of Ren battled and fought the overwhelming numbers, Darth Veles continued his work undisturbed. Screams and blaster fire echoed all the way down the tomb’s depths, all distractions equally ignored by the Sith Lord as he fell to his knees at the statue’s base, but this was not an act of submission; the well-practiced art of meditating on the Dark Side offered him an intimate connection with this faithless place and its power, which the amphibious Sith channelled into himself. Once the time was right and the Force coursed through Veles’ body, the chamber lit up in blue and purple flashes of light as the Sith Lord’s fingertips unleashed the Dark Side’s purest manifestation. The effects that should have scorched, melted, devastated did not yield any results, harmlessly washing over the sculpture.

A different power was needed to unlock the sombre shrine’s knowledge – a moment to fully recover his lost energy and Veles released a similar technique, this time illuminating his surroundings in bright red. Nothing. A sickly yellow hue angrily flashed within Avreet’s amber orbs and defied the statue’s silence. There had to be another solution! Veles furiously searched through his memories, recalling his former master’s wisdom – the old Togruta witch was an expert on Sith magic and rituals, lessons she had shared with her student. Darth Arcanix’ introduction to Sith alchemy also came to mind. Blinking, the amphibian’s eyes drifted over to the lifeless bones. Blood – the oldest and most potent component included in the vast majority of ancient Sith relics. Of course! He should have thought of it sooner.

Knowing what had to be done, the Sith Lord rose from the kneeling position and took a daring step towards the statue. One sharp whistle cut through the silence when a short blade extended from his wrist, drawing a red symbol over the other hand’s open palm. Clenching his flippered hand into a fist, the amphibian let three drops of blood fall and impact the enchanted statue. Dozens of bone-chilling screams erupted from within the alchemized stone in response, resonating between the cold walls and cracking the statue’s torso. This deformity grew in size and numbers across the entirety of Vyrassu’s personification. Only the firm posture of Darth Veles remained still, gaze burning with satisfaction and anticipation.

A single touch and the sculpture turned to dust. Once the cloud settled, the menacingly glowing prize proudly floated inside a sphere of crimson light where its shell used to be; a holocron awaiting its new owner.

Greed and lust for power drove the Sith Lord’s hand closer to the small object, braving him to finally grasp the prize and reap its secrets. Only when his fingers were about to touch the unknown did Veles suddenly stop in motion, eagerness tempered by caution. Like most Sith, Vyrassu would never allow his artifact to simply be taken away without at least trying to kill the new owner – knowing that, the Mon Cal undid his cloak and carefully wrapped it around the holocron before claiming it. Even though the heavy cloth shielded his bare hands, Veles could still feel the holocron’s power radiating from the inside, though curiosity and questions concerning its creator and their knowledge locked within this small container did not quite dull the Sith Lord’s senses enough to overpower the imminent sensation of danger running high through the Force.

Without any further ado, he launched himself backwards, soaring across the small room until a gracefully landing near the entrance – just in time to see the entire chamber disappear, cast into the abyss below. Letting out a satisfied sigh, Veles spun on his heel and marched out, climbing the stairway leading back to Dromund Vatsu’s surface. The small package in his hands and a mysterious smile plastered over his face announced success without the necessity for words.

[member="Caid Centurion"] [member="Skjold Alexeyev"] [member="Isla Ashen"] [member="Enyo Typhos"] [member="Kriel Firin"] [member="Decima Fortan"]

 

[Visser Chernykh]

The disciple was peripherally aware of the Mon Calamari. What was the blasted fish doing! His irritation was quickly forgotten as the cultists surged forward again. Mael turned aside a sword thrust and delivered a hard kick to purchase space.

It came down to skill versus numbers. Even the finest swordsman could be overwhelmed by enough beings. Stories were rife with such things and it was all based on something real. Except the tales never spoke of the desperation.

He felt on the razor's edge of being crushed. A second could turn the tide against him. One mistake and he'd surely be dead. The fear drove him on despite the mounting fatigue.

[member="Darth Veles"] [member="Caid Centurion"] [member="Isla Ashen"] [member="Enyo Typhos"] [member="Kriel Firin"] [member="Decima Fortan"]