Zed Bakiska
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Post by Zed Bakiska on Jun 10, 2022 15:50:09 GMT -8
It was well after dark when Zed exited the temple. To most onlookers he had not changed much. He still wore the same clothing he went in with but to a keener eye they were bulkier. As if they covered better under wrappings than they had before. He had however removed the traditional mask worn by the Tusken people. Now he wore one that was a likeness of his own face. In his hand there was a second mask, that of a different face. Reaching out in the force Zed used the buckets to one again drain the fountain, and he watched as the temple once again sealed itself.
Walking down the temple and through the forest the oppressiveness of the forest seemed to be gone. Or perhaps it no longer affected him the same way. It took him half as much time to return, but it was nearing midnight when Zed returned to his ship and closed the door for the night.
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Nartaga
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Post by Nartaga on Jun 11, 2022 20:34:03 GMT -8
Nartaga watched from the viewport of the cockpit of the shuttle as Zed disappeared into the forest. He had offered little when they had spoken of their destination and while the R'Crurak tribe shaman had not yet mastered the skill of sensing through the Force without direct contact, Nartaga could hear the pain in his voice. This was something that the man had to do on his own. Little more had been said between the pair since they had descended from orbit. The Tusken knew enough of the stories of the Jensaarai shaman that had been shared with him previously that he could deduce some of what Zed was feeling. He knew nothing he could say would make it feel better.
Much of his day was spent in and around the shuttle, not venturing too far in case he get lost. Sand and rock the desert dweller could navigate easily, but this place was more foreign to him than his wildest dreams could image. A moment after making sure he was alone he even dared to remove a glove, revealing a pale white human hand. Feeling the living - no, thriving plant life with his bare left hand, Nartaga was shaken to his core as he ran his hands through the grass. Not only was the experience a deeply moving event to the Tusken, but his direct contact with the world gave him more insight into the tragedy that happened here. Even after all this time it had yet to heal completely; scarred by the brutality of the extermination of Zed's clan.
What other time was left training. A new development to his life was the loss of his right arm, which had been his dominant appendage; replaced by a primitive-looking prosthetic that instead of five articulate fingers was replaced by a three-hinged jaw-like claw. The Tusken had yet to fully adapt to the change and had difficulty overcoming the lack of feeling in the artificial limb. His missing arm still ached as his mind still felt the recently lost extremity, and properly commanding this new mechanical extension of his body was slow going. Several times his gaderffii fell to the ground as the claw released its grasp on the weapon, causing Nartaga great frustration.
His only comfort was that hopefully this was a temporary prosthetic, a promise from Zed for them to acquire something not dug up from the sands of Tatooine by Jawas and sold at exorbitant cost. Still, should the need arise before then he would need to be acclimated to its operation.
When Zed returned deep into the night Nartaga was meditating within the shuttle on the floor, his legs crossed and eyes closed; though that detail could not be seen beneath his mask. As the doors opened so did his eyes, and he gave a slight nod to his traveling companion as Zed simply went to the cockpit to be by himself. Nartaga respected this wish and returned to his meditation. The Tusken's prosthetic arm lay at his side on the floor, removed from the plug-in joint in his shoulder. This was partly out of Tusken-held beliefs about technology separating oneself from the land, though Nartaga did not particularly believe such things. Whether it was actually true or just some psychological response, he did feel closer to the Force without the limb attached.
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Dragus
The Sith Eternal
In front of the Empire, to all you Vader haters out there. We'll blow your planet up.
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Post by Dragus on Jun 12, 2022 5:30:41 GMT -8
After emerging from hyperspace, the blind bear seated in the pilot's chair pressed forwards on the steering yoke and guided the Grimblade into Contruum's atmosphere. The transition from the wormhole dimension to real space had stirred the slumbering saurian awake. As heavy scaled lids rose to reveal the burning coals of his bloody gaze, he spread his jaws to open a maw full of gleaming curved incisors, stale with sticky salivation from an otherwise dry mouth. He let out a loud yawn that ended in a long hiss as he closed his mouth and probed the air with a flicker of his forked tongue, shedding wisps of sour breath from his nostril slits. He found himself still in the common-area just beyond the cockpit where Lil'Havok and Kr'Naan were situated, seated cross legged with his overlong tail wrapped around his waist. Uncoiling the fifth appendage, he sunk his talons into the deck and raised himself up to his full height. There were a few pops and cracks as he stretched his body that had been stationary for the length of the trip. The last thing he recalled was playing a dark melody on his meltmassif flute when the currents of the malevolent fey overcame him and filled his mind with visions of the past.
He saw things he didn't understand. T-visor helmeted warriors assaulting Jedi garbed in unusual bestial appearing attire. The one side was clearly Mandalorian, for he had experience with their kind before and knew well the frailty of their flesh that they were so dependent on their armoured carapace. The other side he was less familiar with. He knew them for Force users for virtue of the glowing energy blades they wielded in battle and the sorcerous feats they performed with the Force, yet there was something unmistakably different about these ones that he saw. Were these the Fallanassi that Major had spoken of during their time together? No, most likely not. He saw too many men in their ranks, a forbidden taboo amongst that particular tribe. Then what?
Dragus shook himself free of the memory as he entered the cockpit. He placed a claw on the headrest of both the pilot and copilots seats and leaned in, thrusting his snout between Lil'Havok and Kr'Naan as he stared out the window in front of them. His tail slithered around the back of the tusken girl's seat and prodded her side as he attempted to jostle her awake. He noted the thick volume sitting open in her lap. The owners manual for the Sith Infiltrator? Ah, she had clearly taken his words to heart. He admired the attempt, even if to his knowledge she would not be able to decipher the language. His lips parted to reveal a mouth full of yellow daggers as his snout twisted up into a knowing sneer. He pointed an index talon at the lower end of the viewport, directing the pilot's attention to an unfamiliar forest below. "There." Rasped the reptilian, pointing at the green carpeted canopy that stirred memories of holy Pzob. Lil'Havok took the ship down, gliding over the natural branched roof of the forest as he looked for a place to set the ship down. They flew over a clearing with what looked like an old derelict Corellian freighter. There was a second shuttle there as well, this one in much better condition, if a little sun baked and dusty. Dragus shook his head when the cataract crusted eyes of the blind bear focused on him questioningly.
"No, further ssstill." He hissed, directing the ship onwards as Lil'Havok tried to find a place to set down. Eventually the forest gave way to a hill upon which sat a set of ruins that held some familiarity. His vision, yes, he had seen this place in his mind's eye during his dark meditation. "Ssset down on thossse ruinz."
Unaware of the violation of sacred ground they might be committing, or simply unconcerned by it, Lil'Havok spun the controls and swung the nose of the Grimblade around as the nimble star courier turned and descended to the ground. Three landing struts extended from the transport's underside, taking the weight of the craft as its repulsors lowered it to the ground on a cushion of air. The ship landed near the former main entrance, which was now little more than a pile of rubble. Upon setting down, the interior of the ship was unsealed as the boarding ramp was lowered to the broken temple terrace.
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Zed Bakiska
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Post by Zed Bakiska on Jun 12, 2022 14:30:50 GMT -8
Zed made his way out of the cockpit in the morning. Despite having a bed he still found it strange to sleep on it. It was too soft, and he felt like he was sinking into the mattress. So instead he had slept sitting with his back to the console. For the first time in a long time he had woken up truly rested. His trip into the temple. His confrontation with Nikkos Tyris; the founder of the Jensaarai had both drained him but freed him of many of the demons that had haunted him as well. Placing his mask back on Zed stepped out of the cockpit, although he was not a Tusken Zed had spent enough time dressed as one that he would have felt weird if Nartaga was to see him with his face exposed.
Not seeing Nartaga awake yet Zed began to make coffee in the small kitchenette that the shuttle had. One of the perks of having come from the Outer Rim was that it was easier to come by fresh food as opposed to the premade crap most people ate closer to the Core. Cracking some fresh eggs into a skillet they started cooking rapidly beside the pieces of Krayt bacon the duo had brought with them from Tatooine. Placing everything between two pieces of toast Zed sheepishly took off his mask. Unlike the one he had worn on Tatooine this didn't have a mouthpiece. Perhaps he would still need to grow into this. Placing a second sandwich inside a heating unit for Nartaga Zed walked out of the shuttle and watched the sun rise over the trees.
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Kr'Naan'Kar
The Sith Eternal
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Post by Kr'Naan'Kar on Jun 12, 2022 20:49:27 GMT -8
Indeed, as Kr'Naan's eyes had run through the manual of operation of the starship the symbols of the written outsider language meant less than nothing to the Tusken child, at least at first. But the miraculous gift of understanding, a festering harsh whisper filled with commanding malice murmuring had been bestowed upon her. A seed implanted in her mind by the saurian Sith she thought an idol, which echoed his voice inside of her mind to slowly translate the scribbles into something she understood. As her eyes went over the words, her vision would blur and hallucinations of the words lifting off of the pages like holograms that slowly morphed into the symbols that had been inscribed on the raided Pzobian temple, which was then transmuted to the Tusken tongue by the facsimile of the black-scaled barabel that spoke only to her. Fueled by a copy of the hunger that Dragus possessed, something that had been unfortunately - or fortunately depending on your point of view - burned into the Tusken youngling's mind, the reproduction of the twisted terrasaur's knowledge of languages within her psyche was compelled by this need to consume the only thing it could; knowledge. It would take time to ferment within her developing brain, as it was still taking root within her, it's influence still largely unknown even to itself. But, as with all good things, it would eventually come to fruition. The addition of pictures in the manual was also helpful.From Kr'Naan's perspective and understanding, it was the voice of her master guiding her and teaching her, even as his physical form slept. Kr'Naan stood up to peer down at the planet below as they searched for a landing zone. The abundance of thriving plant life on outsider worlds still amazed her, even if the feeling was somewhat less than it had been the first time. "What did you see in your vision of this place, Master?" She asked curiously in ewokese, referencing Dragus' mention of a vision back on Rishi. "Another step to your Ascension!?" She surmised excitedly, looking forward to being of help to 'Hakusar' in becoming a fully fledged god. Kr'Naan would race down the lift to the lower level of the Grimblade, her enthusiasm almost saturating the air as she prepared for their excursion to the ruins where they had landed. The Tusken gathered provisions, not nearly as much as had been needed in their last outing, her accepted job as the mule for these types of things had already been set in. Thankfully the burden was lessened greatly due to the lack of need, but the others of the flock did not hesitate to laden her with any amount of doodads and thingamabobs they wished to bring and not carry themselves. All in all only the large rucksack was needed and it seemed the Tusken was already stronger than the last time she had carried it, as she was able to stand upright without need of counter-balancing saddle bags. By the time Dragus had made his way to the ramp, despite the weight of the sack she was carrying, Kr'Naan was bouncing up and down on the toes of her boots in eager anticipation. In her hands she held the crystal attained from the temple on Pzob.
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Dragus
The Sith Eternal
In front of the Empire, to all you Vader haters out there. We'll blow your planet up.
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Post by Dragus on Jun 13, 2022 13:44:57 GMT -8
A warm breeze greeted the saurian Sith as he casually stalked down the ramp of the ship and set foot on the temple terrace. His brown cloak of Rishii feathers billowed around his black scaled frame, adding an almost avian grace to his usual predatory posture and movements. His overlong tail extended out through a slit in the backside of the recently mended garment, swaying from side to side with every step, seeming oddly naked without the serrated iron spike that typically capped its end. In fact he was entirely bereft of arms, having left his lightsaber and axe on the ship. Heavy scaled lids widened as his bloody gaze lingered on the assembled members of the flock. There at the bottom of the ramp joining the child of sand was the rest of their company. Dragus pulled back the hood of his robe to reveal his toothy snout, squinting as he took a verbal tally of those present. He raised a claw and acknowledged the team from right to left.
"It lookz like everyone iz here. Letz sssee, there iz Squeakerz." His index talon indicated the ranat with its stub shortened tail. "Squawkerz." He then pointed at an adolescent female Rishii that was doing its best to flap itself to freedom, which it might have been successful at were it not for the shackle around its left ankle, connected to a long chain that the cycloptic Lil'Bacca was holding in his powerful furry grip. Dragus continued as he got to the ewoks. "Lil'Bacca, Lil'Mort, Lil'Kaan, Lil'Naan, and..." The last in line was the milky eyed bear the group used as a pilot. "...Lil'Havok. Hmmm, well, I suppossse you can come to." His eyes lingered on the temple ruins, seeing only faded memories and the shades of ghosts. "Everyone here already seemz to be dead. We might az well leave the ramp down and let sssome fresh air into the ship." He couldn't recall the last time they'd done that.
Folding his claws into the sleeves of his feathery robe, the ewok shepherd paced in front of his flock, considering his next words carefully. The sand child had inquired earlier as to why they were here, once more succumbing to her juvenile fantasy that they were on a mission to ascend the Hungering One to a state of divinity. Eventually he'd have to break the truth to her, or at the very least, prepare a fabricated explanation in advance. Finally coming to a stop, he began to explain their purpose.
"While I waz deep in meditation..." Sleeping. "...I had a visssion of thiz place..." A spice induced hallucination, but please, continue. "...and of sssomething very preciouz to me inssside of it. I don't know what it lookz like, ssso I can offer no dessscription of the object in quessstion. All I can sssay iz that you will know it when you sssee it." Very cryptic. "Except for you, Lil'Havok. I sssuppose you might know it when you ssstumble over it. I sssense thiz ssstructure iz more tomb than temple, ssso you may leave your weaponz with the ship. You will not need them."
The emaciated dark furred bear known as Lil'Mort, the avatar of the Dead One, locked eyes with the mangy furred and wild eyed Lil'Kaan, avatar of the Mad One. They shared an uncertain stare, then eventually Lil'Mort shrugged and rested his primitive wooden spear with its jagged stone tip against the ramp. Lil'Kaan unslung his matching pair of stone knives and placed them beside the ewok spear of powa!, before stepping back in line.
"Good." Rasped the reptilian as he watched them disarm. "Empty pawz make for better loot gathererz. We'll sssplit up into teamz of two. Lil'Bacca, you take Squawkerz with you and show her the ropez. If she causez any problemz you have my permisssion to pluck out sssome featherz. Just don't waissst them." He scratched his chin with a curved talon as he pondered the next group. "Hmmm, Squeakerz, why don't you go with Lil'Havok? That nossse of yourz ought to make up for hiz lack of...well, sssight. And then we have Lil'Kaan, Lil'Mort, and Wart."
Groaning, the lizard lord lowered his feather clad frame and took a knee, meeting the goggled visage of the tusken girl with his luminous crimson eyes. Reaching out, he placed her tiny hands between his claws and squeezed them firmly around the celestial stone she was holding. His lips parted slightly to reveal rows of razor sharp teeth; he hissed a rancid breath at her mask respirator.
"I give you the choice, my dear. You may either accompany me az we explore the temple, or you may go with Lil'Mort. Jussst underssstand, if you lossse that cryssstal while sssearching thessse ruinz, I may have to eat you."
Given that Kr'Naan had been present during a few of Dragus' meals, he hoped the warning was enough to impart on her just how important it was that she follow his instruction.
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Kr'Naan'Kar
The Sith Eternal
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Post by Kr'Naan'Kar on Jun 13, 2022 21:34:44 GMT -8
A few disappointed grumbles at the order to leave behind their weapons were followed by compliance, if somewhat tinged by reluctance. The members of the flock, after properly disarming themselves of their personal weaponry, unloaded all of the weapons they had crammed into the backpack carried by Kr'Naan. By the time they had finished there was comically large assorted mess of primitive and crude weaponry thrown in a pile on the floor. The pack on the Tusken child's back was now mostly empty save for the few refreshments they had decided to pack for the sojourn through the ruins below. Kr'Naan was the last to discard her weaponry, removing her sword which she had tied to the side of the pack for ease of access over safety. With her free hand she gently set it down in the pile of relinquished armaments.Kr'Naan audibly gulped at the threat of being eaten by the sinister serpent, looking down at the crystal in her hand as it glowed lightly against the leather of her glove. She nodded, and looked back up to Dragus."S-sorry master. I thought you would need it for whatever we found here. I will be right back." She said in ewokese before running back to the refresher to stash the crystal safely back in the hamper beneath the clothing washers in the wall. By the time the Tusken child returned from the short trip, she arrived back at the ramp to find everyone save for Lil'Mort had left to go ahead into the decrepit vestiges of the temple. She felt a bit of disappointment, as Kr'Naan had very much wanted to be by the saurian Sith's side in searching the ruins for...whatever it was they were looking for. But she had taken a liking to Lil'Mort from their escapade on Pzob. The ewok simply shrugged at Kr'Naan before waving for her to hurry up as he descended down the ramp himself, using his seniority to the Tusken to assume leadership of the two-person search party for....whatever they were searching for.
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Zed Bakiska
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Post by Zed Bakiska on Jun 14, 2022 3:49:06 GMT -8
The peace of watching the sunrise was cut short as Zed felt a tremor in The Force from the direction of the temple. He had already planned on going there later to give his friends and the dead a proper send off, to collect their belongings and place them where they belong in the temple where they would sit until they were needed. Now he knew that somehow those plans were done and that he had to make all best speed through the forest back to the temple and so with a single look behind him at the ship Zed ran off into the forest. This time he had no problems making his way through the dense foliage. It felt as if the trees and underbrush bent to his will, and that it sensed his desire for speed and aided him where he could. Even when he did trip he turned it into his advantage, rolling under a tree or in one instance doing a front flip over a large constrictor in the middle of making a meal out of some unfortunate forest denizen.
Letting the force guide his steps Zed made it through the forest and to the clearing he saw the ship that had touched down. His force sense still prickling Zed force himself to stop and catch his breath. Looking around the clearing he waited for several minutes looking for any signs of lookouts or spotters. This temple may be abandoned and forgotten but it was not totally lost or else this ship would not have been here. Part of him hoped that it was another wayward Jensaarai that had returned home to pick over the ruins. Certainly the Force did work in mysterious ways, it was no coincidence that Nartaga and himself had arrived just before another ship here.
As much as he hoped it was another Jensaarai why would he feel the way he did? Why did the remnants of the Force eking from the ship taste so vile to him? As a Stennes Shifter Zed was able to feed off the force energy around him, and despite the protests of officials who had studied the phenomenon before the purges that nearly killed his species Zed swore that different people and things gave off different flavours in the force. The forest around him was a smorgashboard of good and bad, but all tinged with a bitter acrid taste that always happened over old battlefields where force users had died in the hundreds. If he really tried he could still feel and taste the force energies of the various moves and techniques used. The ship in the clearing though reminded him of some peppers he had eaten years ago. People swore they had flavour but all he had tasted was heat and pain. Tapping into the force energies that swirled around him Zed wrapped them around his body like a blanket that bent the light and soundwaves around his form. Already a natural in camouflage this technique made Zed completely invisible to the naked eye, scanners, and droids.
Walking out of the woods towards the ship Zed walked up the open ramp of the ship and found it empty. Sniffing the air he nearly gagged at the scent of wet fur and what he assumed was rotted meat. Raising an eyebrow at the weapons seemingly discarded haphazardly on the ground picking up one of the weapons- a spear Zed could feel the powa! coming from it. Placing it back down he left the ship and began looking for the ones who had left it there.
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Dragus
The Sith Eternal
In front of the Empire, to all you Vader haters out there. We'll blow your planet up.
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Post by Dragus on Jun 14, 2022 13:49:29 GMT -8
As Dragus watched Kr'Naan run back up the ramp, he lowered his snout and shook his head from side to side. Directing his vision further downwards, he met the manic eyes of Lil'Kaan and offered the mangy furred bear a shrug of his broad feather swathed shoulders. "Guesss that meanz you're coming with me." Hissed the Hakusar, sweeping his long tail behind the mentally unstable ewok before giving the little guy a push in the right direction. Stalking forwards, the saurian began to follow the member of his flock as they left the ship, Lil'Mort, and his tusken charge behind.
Relying on his powerful sense of scent to guide him, the black scaled barabel found himself ascending the temple, unwittingly following the same path Zed had traveled during his last visit. As they searched the hallowed grounds, the Hungering One extended his other senses and reached out into the aether, seeking some clue as to how they might gain entry inside. The entrance near where they had landed was currently a pile of rubble, so unless he felt like doing some digging, they probably weren't going to find a way inside there. He held out more hope for finding a way in through some of the battle damage the temple appeared to have undergone. Eventually he stumbled upon a fountain that had been recently disturbed. Resting a claw on its surface, he focused a measure of his power to turn back the flow of time. Nothing physically changed, but as looked around the area so overgrown with vines, he watched as phantoms replayed the actions they had taken in life. Ghostly apparitions filled buckets of water and poured them into the fountains reservoir, leaving and returning several times until a certain level had been reached and a side access door opened to reveal the temple interior. Scowling, Dragus released the hold his psychometry had on the past and the fragments in time vanished before his smouldering gaze.
So there was a trick. Walking from the fountain to the door, he examined the thick barrier and quickly came to the conclusion he wouldn't be smashing his way in, not unless he wanted to risk bringing this portion of the temple down on their heads. Growling in irritation, he returned to the fountain and bent down to reach underneath. His claws found the same buckets and he understood the expectation, but he was loathe to perform some mundane ritual. There had to be another way. Within seconds he had come up with an idea. Standing on one side of the fountain, with Lil'Kaan on the other, the duo of barabel and ewok began to relieve themselves in the fountain, filling the sacred basin with a pungent and considerable quantity of urine. After a solid minute, the saurian's steady stream began to lessen until he drained the last few drops from his bladder. He turned his snout and looked expectantly at the door, but unlike what he had seen in his perusal of the fountains stone memory, the mechanical portal remained firmly secured. He stroked his scaly chin with a claw. Perhaps more liquid was required. But from where?
While pondering away, Lil'Kaan finished relieving himself as well and hopped down from the fountains edge. The little bear made his way over to the Hungering One and rested his furry head against the side of Dragus' leg. Feeling the welcome embrace of a member of his flock, the barabel reached down to pat the matted fur on the ewok's head, when he paused. His gaze lingered on Lil'Kaan, then slowly moved to the fountain, and back to the ewok again.
He had an idea, but...well, he was reluctant to pursue it. However, if the alternative meant making several trips down to the riverside to retrieve buckets of water, he was left with little choice it seemed.
Kneeling, the saurian pulled Lil'Kaan in for a hug, holding the the avatar of the Mad One to his breast firmly. At first his bed warmer was happy for the embrace, burying his fuzzy head into the draconian's bosom. After a few seconds though, Lil'Kaan seemed to struggle, attempting to push itself away from the feather clad drake. Instead he found Dragus' arm held like an iron bar, refusing to relinquish its hold, squeezing more intensely as the seconds ticked onwards. When a minute had passed the little bear's body ceased its struggles and went limp. With a sad expression on his snout, the Great Devourer released Lil'Kaan, lowering him to the ground. Probing the ewok's wrist, he checked for a pulse and found it absent. Then without further adieu, he wrapped a claw around one of the deceased bear's ankles and held it over the fountain, before dragging the curved end of one of his finger talons across its throat. Blood poured in great volume from the wound, filling the fountain reservoir with its dark crimson flow. Dragus stood there waiting until every last drop was bled out of the bear, even giving the furry cadaver a shake to get the last few out. Click! Turning to face the door, he watched as the temple unsealed and the portal lifted, allowing passage inside. Releasing his grip on the ewok, the corpse of Lil'Kaan splashed into the fountain.
Without sparing a second glance at his sacrificed paramour as it bobbed in the mire of piss and blood, Dragus made his way inside the temple. Bitter, but still hungry for whatever treasure or secrets awaited him inside.
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Nartaga
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Post by Nartaga on Jun 14, 2022 23:23:07 GMT -8
A familiar scene played out in Nartaga's mind as he slept. He was back on Tatooine, kneeling in the throne room of the Or'Rrk'Rkr clan's main hall in the tusken enclave, a tusken city. He was before the Or'Rrk'Rkr clan chieftain, Or'Rish, with Zed; they had returned from their quest, but not successfully. They were bound at the hands, surrounded by shamans of the clan to keep them from escaping or attacking using their abilities. The dream faded momentarily, replaced by a scene of a fight. Nartaga arm lay across across block, held down by heavy chains and a powerful unseen force. He looked up to see Or'Rish standing in front of him. The old Tusken chieftain bent down to whisper to the bound shaman so the crowd that had gathered could not hear. "I wish it did not have to be this way, but you and your outsider friend gave me no choice after what you did. You will be an example for who dare betray me." The chieftain said in the Tusken tongue, before standing up and turning around to speak to the audience. Nartaga heard a scream that sounded like Zed, not of pain but of intense anger, followed by seeing the shadow of the axe-bladed gaderffii coming down on his arm.
Nartaga's eyes flew open and he instinctively swung his arm, reacting to trying to pull it away in his dream, his mechanical claw-fist impacting the wall and leaving a dent; one of several that were there. Nartaga did his best to calm his eratic breathing, looking around to ground himself to his surroundings. Nartaga reached over with his left hand and touched his shoulder where his body linked to the robotic prosthetic, closing his eyes and running his gloved fingers from his actual body to the cold metal that he could feel in his mind if not through the thick coverings on his hands. He let out a sigh, his head hung low, and got out of bed.
Zed had already left the shuttle; back to the temple Nartaga assumed. But he had left the Tusken shaman a sandwich in the heater. Nartaga looked at the delicate toasted meal and then down to his mechanical arm. He lifted his clawed hand up and did his best to gently pick up the breaded dish, though he only succeeded in partially crushing it. Angered, Nartaga reached over and ripped his prosthetic out of the socket joint. The not-so-careful unjoining of flesh from metal shot a pain through him, but it only made him move faster as he moved to the shuttle's door and threw the artificial limb with all the might he could muster from his real one.
Not too much time had passed before he was going through the brush on the outskirts of their landing zone; recovering the limb, though not reattaching it yet. Nartaga tucked the metal appendage under his left arm and walked back to where had set down his food and drink in the open. He dropped the prosthetic on the ground with little regard for care and then sat on the ground facing towards it. Nartaga would eat his partially crushed sandwich staring at the clamp-clawed droid arm with intensity as he ate. Nartaga was not yet trained in the ability of sensing without physical touch, or at least it was something he was not something he was well versed in. But as he ate even he could tell something was different. He wanted to go to the temple, to check on his friend, but Zed had been insistent on going alone. He had promised the Stennes man, and they were close enough that it was not a vow he would break without great need. Nartaga would stop eating and instead move his focus to connecting with the energies of this world, trying to discern what it was he was feeling.
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Kr'Naan'Kar
The Sith Eternal
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Post by Kr'Naan'Kar on Jun 15, 2022 3:10:12 GMT -8
Further behind the rest of the flock, Lil'Mort and Kr'Naan were just beginning to catch up when they came upon the desecrated and bloody fountain. At the sight of a face down ewok in the blood and urine Kr'Naan took off ahead of Lil'Mort in a panic, Lil'Mort hurrying behind her. She stopped at the edge of the fountain, pausing for just a moment before beginning to attempt to climb in. A strong paw put itself on the Tusken child's shoulder, keeping her from going into the ruined water feature. The youngling turned back to look at a stern-faced Lil'Mort, who gave her a slight pull to bring her back down fully from the ledge of the fountain.Without speaking, Lil'Mort climbed atop the edge of the fountain instead, dipping a furry finger into the mixture, bringing the coated digit to his face and sniffing it a few times before sticking it into his mouth and swirling it around. Lil'Mort sucked on the finger, aerating it audibly with a slurping sound, much to the dismay of Kr'Naan. After nearly a minute of this, Lil'Mort spat out the formation of urine, blood and now spit onto the ground. The ewok knelt down and careful grabbed the dead Lil'Kaan by the back of his foot and brought him closer to the side of the fountain, flipping him over. Kr'Naan let out an loud gasp of shock at the look of the open wound on the ewok's throat."What did this? Should we go get our weapons? Master may be in trouble!" She said panicked in ewokese to Lil'Mort. Lil'Mort was silent as he studied the slash on his kin's throat, turning his head and glancing from the fountain to the still-open entrance to the temple ruins. The ewok avatar of death recognized the pattern of the laceration. Smarter than the average bear, Lil'Mort put two and two together and shook his head at Kr'Naan's question."No. We go inside. Search for what came here for." He stated plainly to Kr'Naan in ewokese as he climbed down from the defiled fountain and turned to head inside. Kr'Naan was frozen where she stood, turning back to look at the drained corpse of Lil'Kaan. She did not understand."Should we not find who did this and punish them?! What would Master do if he were-" She screamed at the ewok in its native language. Lil'Mort stopped in his little tracks and turned back around, eyeballing the Tusken child with a fierce look that sent a shiver down her spine. Before she could finish her sentence he interrupted to correct her and set the record straight."Master one who did this. Get looking for treasure." Lil'Mort said in a deadly serious tone before turning back once more to head inside the ruins of the temple to get to looting. Kr'Naan felt her blood ran cold as she looked back to the soaking cadaver of the member of the flock, at a loss. Kr'Naan knew they were all expendable to the saurian Sith, but she did not understand why. Had Lil'Kaan done something to upset Dragus? Kr'Naan finally took off running to catch up to Lil'Mort as the ewok let out a sharp whistle, the duo heading through the entranceway in silence.
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Dragus
The Sith Eternal
In front of the Empire, to all you Vader haters out there. We'll blow your planet up.
Posts: 1,407
Affiliation: Sith Eternal
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Post by Dragus on Jun 18, 2022 4:59:45 GMT -8
After entering the temple, Dragus found himself stalking the musty halls alone. His nostril slits flared as he drew in a mouldy breath, the smell of grave rot and desiccation lingering in the air of the tomb. The floor was littered with detritus, spent shell casings, drained blaster packs, and bones. Yellowed fingerbones crunched beneath the heavy tread of his step, scattered and bursting into dust as his toe talons scraped the ground. Every now and then he would come across a pile of armour, some he recognized, others he did not. The T shaped visor of Mandalorian helmets was unmistakable, he'd killed enough to be able to identify them easily. It was the unique animal styled and decorated pieces that he was far less familiar with. In fact, he had never seen the like before. He knelt down, examining a breastplate with a gundark etched into the surface of the metal. As his claws traced the decorative chest guard, he felt a pulse, a sensation of self possessed by the metal. His heavy lids rose in surprise.
"This was made with alchemy." He hissed, the sour nature of his breath attracting a swarm of flies that had followed him in from the forest outside. They buzzed around his snout and the piece he held in his claws, though none of the offensive little insects sullied the armours surface, almost as though they were repelled by the purity of it. The longer he held the piece, the more his scales began to itch. Snarling, he turned the piece sideways and hurled it down the hallway like a frisbee. Clenching his claws into fists, he brought his heavy hands down on the desiccated ribcage he had pulled the armour off of and smashed the bones to little bits, kicking up a cloud of dust that assailed his senses and sent the saurian into a coughing fit as he stood back up and tried to draw a fresh breath of air.
Whoever these Force users were, they were anathema to the malevolent fey, or at the very least they had shared a stronger connection to the Light. It hadn't seemed to have saved them, obviously. Whatever the Mandalorians reasons for assaulting this place, it looks like they were thorough in their extermination. He doubted a single soul had made it out of this place. Still, there was something about these Force users that had him intrigued. Using the Force to alter matter was an ability that was older than the Sith themselves, originally developed and mastered by the Jedi. Perhaps whoever these people were had developed as an offshoot of those original Jedi, or perhaps they had been influenced by some Sith teachings. Annoyingly, there didn't seem to be anyone around that could explain it to him.
Focusing on his anger, He-Who-Hungers channeled the currents of the darkside into his scaled form, dispelling the unease that troubled him. He fed on the residual emotions projected by those that had died, trapped like cursed specters in their final moments, swallowing up the fury they felt in battle and the despair they projected as they had expired. It was no substitute for fear, but it was a unique flavour all the same.
Further up the hall, his eyes lingered on something he recognized. A cylindrical tube that looked like it would fit comfortably in the palm of ones hand was lying on the ground, corroded across its metallic shell. Bending down, the black scaled barabel scooped the discarded lightsaber hilt from the floor. It immediately began to crumble in his hands, between the battle damage, the wasting affects of time, and the temple's lack of climate control it had deteriorated near completely. He sifted through the rust flakes with an index talon, eventually finding an intact part. An orange crystal was at the heart of the debris, seeming to swirl and flare beneath its smooth surface as Dragus examined it. Even only inspecting it for a few moments was having a reaction within it. Spreading out from where his talon tips held it, the crystal began to spiral with a red web, such was the potency of darkness coursing through his scaled form that only a few seconds exposure was already beginning to have a bleeding effect. He turned his hand and let the corroded pieces fall from his palm and shower the ground, then placed the singular crystal inside a pocket concealed within the folds of his feathery robe.
Was this the item he sought, or was there more? The unusual alchemized armour he found still was at the forefront of his thoughts. Perhaps there was a forge around here that would provide further answers.
Humming a dark tune from the end of his snout, the Hungering One stalked further into the heart of the temple.
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Zed Bakiska
Member
By the three Kennedys
Posts: 287
Affiliation: Jensaarai
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Post by Zed Bakiska on Jun 21, 2022 12:09:20 GMT -8
It did not take Zed long to spot the intruders. These grave robbers. What was curious about them was the fact that they were so short, true most beings were short compared to him but these looked like dolls to him. Ewoks. It certainly explained the wooden spear on the ship. How had these Ewoks learned to fly and how had they learned of the temple? Last he had heard they were little more than primitives' who lived in the trees and mud huts. Had he truly be gone that long that some offshoot of Ewok had become spacefaring? No that was unlikely.
What he saw when they reached the top of climb truly floored him. It was a Uli-ah, a child Tusken. He had seen a few of them when he had travelled to the Or'Rrk'Rkr clans village, but not many. To see one here, travelling with Ewoks was utterly confusing. His hopes that this was another Jensaarai with an odd set of companions was dashed when he saw the body of the Ewok in the fountain. Whomever was here had no respect for this place as evidence by the smell of copper and ammonia; if it had been one of his order they would have gotten water from the nearby river just as he had the night before. Assuming that the Tusken child or the Ewoks knew where they were going Zed stalked behind them.
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Dragus
The Sith Eternal
In front of the Empire, to all you Vader haters out there. We'll blow your planet up.
Posts: 1,407
Affiliation: Sith Eternal
Traffic Light: Blue
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Post by Dragus on Jul 5, 2022 8:17:29 GMT -8
It didn't take long for the sadistic saurian to find what he sought. Slit nostrils flared as his delicate senses detected a familiar scent of greasy soot and scorched carbon, an aromatic bouquet that was as distracting as it was alluring. The black scaled barabel drank deeply of the smoky smell, his mind drifting to moments from the past faster than he could banish the thoughts from forming. He recalled a wicked hammer, potent with darkside magic, a weapon turned to into a tool by the monstrous entities that served his malevolent god. The smithing hammer of the Eye was a sacred relic of his Order, but it paled in comparison to the great anvil that dominated the black forge beneath the Citadel of the Eye. Pyres of the sacrificed unworthy heated the forge, choking the air with corpse smoke fumes that heightened his hunger. All manner of thrice cursed artifact, soul bound armour, and fell weapon was crafted in that fire blackened pit. It was still no match for the Mustafarian magma flow that Bloodeater had been forged in, for nothing in the galaxy could compare, but it came a close second. Fueled by daily sacrifices of thousands of innocent sentients taken from across the Order's vast galaxy spanning empire, the forge drew and condensed the evil energy that fed it, imbuing whatever material graced its wicked flames with a darkened taint. Distracted by the memory, Dragus' teeth grit in his maw, sinking deep into the black gums of his mouth as he reminisced. A bead of sour crimson seeped from the corner of his lips, running down his chin before dropping to the ground where it struck the stone floor in a barely noticeable splash.Plop! Upon turning the corner, his glowing bloody orbs were greeted with the sight he expected. There in a large soot marred room that stank of old smoke, was a great forge that dominated the smithy. Empty wooden racks meant for armour lined the walls, mouldy and sickened with wood rot. He allowed the claws of one hand to gently caress one of the racks, but the second his curved talon clipped the wood it crumbled at his touch. Turning, he inspected the forge, blinking away the usual thermal vision of his natural prey-sight and giving his crimson orbs over to the fey. He saw the unseen, the delicate tapestry of Force woven threads that connected everything and everyone. Golden lines that tarnished upon contact with his own dark currents seemed to flow through and around the forge, projecting an aura of focused strength and calm clarity. Dragus reached forwards, stroking one of the invisible threads with a corrupted claw, the very same he had slit Lil'Kaan's throat with. His razor sharp digit recoiled from the sensation.There was a strong light aura here, imprinted over the years by those of pure spirit that had worked the forge, now maintained only by the memory of their deeds. The power, like all things, was fading with time. In that moment, he decided it would be best to help it further along.Extending his claws, the serpentine Sith began to summon the darkside into his extremities. Those golden threads only visible to those with a deep connection to the aether began to run red, dripping crimson blots of foul spreading warmth as He-Who-Hungers focused on his hate. Faces of former 'friends' drifted through his mindscape, taunting him, cursing his name, heightening the connection. He could feel the corruption seer through him, filling his veins like a slow burning acid that inevitably ate all it came into contact with. Dragus poured all his collected bitterness and self loathing into the mix, feeling the dark power grow with every drop of despair and every recalled grievance. As the spell wove around him, the fury welled in his claw tips, crackling with blue tendrils of lightning. Narrowing his scaled lids, the saurian grit his razor maw and growled fiercely, unleashing a barrage of forked electrical current into the desiccated wood in the forge. Dusty logs erupted in black flame, eventually settling into an orange glow as the Great Devourer relented and banished the blue lightning from his finger tips. The forge began to burn, belching black smoke that pooled upwards into the blocked ventilation cavity that was choked with vine growth. Eventually the fumes wafted out into the hall, spreading throughout the abandoned temple corridors.Careless claws fed rotting timber into the blaze, using up what remained of the dilapidated racks in the room, though it wasn't enough. Eventually he found himself traveling out in the hall in search of dusty corpses, dragging the desiccated remains into the smithy and feeding the dried out bones to the burning pit to serve as kindling. Every time he added a new set of remains to the growing fire, a tortured shriek further violated the sanctity of the once pure forge, releasing a trapped phantom into the air that danced before his amused eyes before having its spiritual energy used up to feed the hungry pit of corruption. Though their spirits had departed to join the Force upon death, the violent nature of their end had left something residual in their abandoned husks. If the Hungering One was aware of the sacrilege he was committing, he did not show it. For likely he knew but simply did not care.It was during his corpse collection that Dragus also assembled a pile of collected armoured plates. Each piece was unique and clearly customized by the wearer, depicting various beasts from across the galaxy. When the fire grew hot enough, he began to add those armoured pieces to the forge, heating them up as the darkside seeped in and began to dispel any fleeting hold the Light still had on them. The mad draconian hummed a merry tune as he worked, his forked tongue occasionally flicking out and causing the fire to sizzle as his own blood flecks added to the forge.
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