Tulak Hord's Tomb

* Jarik walks up to the entrance of the tomb. He looks around for anything suspicious and reaches out for any indicators through the force. Nothing. Jarik proceeds forward and places his hand on the large stone door, he opens himself up to the darkside and lets it flow from him into the inner workings of the door. After a few moments Jarik can hear loud cracks and screeches as the old locks come undone and the door opens just wide enough for a person to enter. Jarik unclips one his lightsaber and with the flick of his thumb the blood red blade come to life with a snap hiss sound. Holding the blade out in front of him for light Jarik enters the tomb

* A dark presence overwhelms Jarik and he looses his breath for a moment. Looking up, the crystals on the tomb at the foot of the great statue begin to glow. After a few moment a ghastly figure comes forth from the statue like the image of an old holocron. It stands before Jarik in old sith battle armor and a great presence in the force....when Tulak's spirit speaks it is as if death itself whispers into Jarik's ears.

" You have disturbed my slumber....."

* Tulaks force ghosts steps down from his pedestal and in the blink of an eye grabs Jarik's head, all of jariks memories are pulled into the holocron, processed and filtered back into Jarik. The force ghosts touch laves him and returns to his throne looking down on the collapsed Jarik. As Jarik pulls himself together, Tulak Hord speaks...'

You are no dark lord, but at least you are not a jedi playing sith....it has been far to long sense my knowledge of the galaxy has been renewed. The sith are weak and bring dishonor to us great lords of the past...sith like your master use our power for their own agendas and not the for the greatness of our order. I can sense him out there, using his power to try and circumvent my own...he is smart and cunning but not a true warrior. Unlike you Militis, for you do not use guile and deception to destroy your enemies, you use power. Power is what makes you a Dark Lord and its what will make you the Master. Through you will achieve power you have only dreamed of....let us begin*

For 3 days Tulak Hord feeds Jarik the teachings of his holocron, teaching the young sith centuries worth of knowledge in hours. Once Done Jarik stands up and looks at the ancient dark lord...

" Your teachings have given me knowledge i need o bring the Sith into the greatest glory we have ever had...but you have made a mistake of thinking I would share it with the dead"

J Jarik reaches out in the force and crushes the main crystal on the tomb of Tulak Hord, the force ghost of the sith lord lets out a wraith like scream and moves towards Jarik in an attempt to over take the young man. Using the force to rip the holocron out from inside the statue, Jarik the release a torrent of Dark energy blasting Tulak Hord backwards. The ancient force ghosts begins to gather itself once more but before it can Jarik uses the force to pull the tomb down upon itself...Jarik runs back to the entrance and at the last moment leaps through the opening debris and dust following him.

Standing Jarik looks at his master and brushes his robes off, kneeling before Thrakk he raises the holocron of Tulak Hord up to his Master

" I have done as you wished my Master"

Squad A moved through the old, decrepit tomb quickly and silently. Just as one of them had overheard the Jedi bastard telling Captain Marris, it had been completely emptied out; anything of even remote value had been plundered, either by the Sith that had taken residence on the planet or by scavengers or tourists looking to fetch a paltry sum on the black market. Not that it bothered the squad leader any; his job was to simply clear the tomb and get back out. Fortunately, the tomb was more linear than not.

"This is Squad A,", the squad leader called into his wrist-mounted comlink, "tomb is clear."

The presence of the protocol droid was comforting to The Tutor, more than simply its familiar tongue. It's pleasant demeanor made little difference. He had a strange appreciation of droids, though he had little practical knowledge of their inner workings. He was fascinated by them; the creation of life from lifelessness, simple components joined together to birth the facsimile of thought. A reproduction of corruptible Will. Simply put, The Seer saw appeal in its quiet, lifeless core, their unyielding servitude. None the less, The Gaunt Man never took his eyes off the beast.

"Quite," said he, still peering into the tomb's inhabitant, his voice like gravel against steel ringing within the halls. He could sense a great power in the creature, beyond its thick muscle and sinew, deep in the heart of the Nelvaanian. A hidden power resting deep in his shadowed eyes. It was raw darkness, a canvas for which to paint the galaxy, like a regal butcher; cleaving art from flesh - the monk took note
"It would appear you have spent too long amongst bone and dust to savor a simple compliment. I cannot imagine you have found yourself in this place for the same purpose as I have, and yet I find myself intruding upon your sovereign abode." The Tutor tapped his staff against the cobble beneath his feet, outstretched his arms and bowed politely to the Nelvaanian, like a lost king in a foreign kingdom. "I am but a humble guest to a most gracious host."

"Gods," the word was bitter in The Seer's mouth, his gaze falling to the droid as it translated the foreign tongue. "The will of the Gods is uncertain, dear creature, but like the Gods, I do not believe in chance. They mark us their servants, all. Every one of us has a role to play,"

The Gaunt Man strode about the Nelvaanian with soft footsteps, like a whisper to the shout of his staff against the tomb.

"But what role do you play, I wonder." He made his way to the great surroundings of the antechamber, gliding through the darkness. The Seer raised his slender hand to the wall of the tomb, his fingers like the legs of a Kashyyykian webweaver, slender and sinister as, through the power of the Force, a gilded light sprang from his palm. The golden illumination revealed extravagant murals and carvings in stone, depicting ancient rites; baptisms of blood and war, twisted monsters of the Dark side. In the center, a silhouette surrounded by great beams of light.
"I am in search of secrets. I deal in things long forgotten," The man in wraps reached out to the figure on the wall, as though he were reaching to a great purpose. "There is great power in secrets, the Gods know. But you seem eager to assist me. It finds me curious."

The Tutor turned to the great beast, still cradling the light in his hand, throwing shadows about the chamber to duel with the light. "Tell me what secrets you know of this place."

"Seeking a way, yet straying from the way..." The Tutor stepped beside the hulking wolf towards the passage way, staring into the void. With an outstretched hand, he could feel an intense power crawling forward from the hall, like a beam of sunlight against fair flesh. It was familiar to him, like a memory from a cherished dream. With a flick of his talon-like fingers, he extinguished the ember from his hand, sending the tomb into darkness once more. The adjustment was difficult, from a gentle light to utter despair, but if one strained, they would see The Gaunt Man reach gingerly into the bag slung over his shoulder. Suddenly, the golden light that had been snuffed was supplanted with a gentle, beautiful blue light as a small Memory Moth fluttered into the air. He followed its trail with his hand, as if to cradle a child from danger, as it glided to life within the lifeless, arid hall before his face. Memory Moths could speak, their voices a gentle hush. The gentle hum of its voice chimed through out the antechamber, giving spark to a dead world. He held it close to his concealed appearance as if to have council with the tiny ethereal. It calls a name to the Tutor long since remembered by the galaxy, but impossible for the man to forget. With a gentle motion, The Tutor guided the Lepidoptera towards the hall and whispered gentle encouragement.

"There will no doubt be great trials upon this path. Tests perhaps neither of us have faced before. Though I have no doubt your strength of Will shall prevail." The Gaunt Man turned with sudden excitement to the Nelvaanian, the blue light casting devilish shadows upon his mask. "What do you say to a friendly wager, dear fellow? If you can bring me safely to the end of this tomb and bring me what I seek, I shall free you from this prison.

The Seer and the Nelvaanian made their way through the catacombs, giving chase to the glowing celestial. Down the dark halls, across the ancient scaffolding, over stone bridge ways and towards the great chamber, their footsteps were hushed whispers throughout the corridors like a gentle beating drum, punctuated by the harsh clank of the Tutor's staff against the cavernous floor. The dark paths were illuminated in the gentle blue light of the memory moth as the two beings made their way, the small creature swarming around them as they did as if to beckon them forward. But with every step the halls grew colder. Darker. The air around them became thin and tainted in the Dark Side.

In the darkness, The Seer relied on The Force to guide him, the gentle essence of the Nelvaanian just a mere arm's length away, once clear as day, began to vanish before him. The blue light of the moth began to wane as, in the great distance of the halls, a deep blackness consumed. It seemed to consume all that was good in the galaxy. As if The Force was broken here, an angry and malignant god, trapped forever. The Tutor fed upon this sorrow, reaching for the power that lay before him. It was a great power, one that shook him to his very core. He shuddered as the cold darkness seeped into his bones, giving way to no joy or power. He felt a sharp emptiness take him in bitter embrace. Suddenly, the dull blue light of the memory moth vanished into the fog, along with the crimson shade of the Nelvaanian. He was alone, blind in an everlasting darkness.

The chittering of a hundred hundred talons against cobbled stone was deafening to The Sage, his senses on edge as he felt the area around him with the end of his staff, tapping the stone in attempts to find his bearings, finding only writhing slime. It was useless, the movement of the slithering creatures creating a cacophony that crippled The Tutor. An unfamiliar panic began to take hold of him as he tried to move about the room, his arms outstretched in the darkness, his footing uneasy.

His breath was heavy as the creatures grew closer to him, he could feel that much. The crawling slug-like creatures were swarming, hungry for flesh as they skittered about, playing with their prey, their talons coming closer and closer, finally slicing clean, long bits of The Tutor's flesh. In the disarray, The Gaunt Man began to fight back; swinging his staff at the creatures, jabbing back in defiance. But he was panicked, his senses were in chaos as the creatures overwhelmed him. The Tutor found himself in a desperation he had not felt since he was a child, plunging into a darkness he had not faced in a lifetime. He would not allow himself to fall prey. Not again.

The Seer held his scepter tightly with both hands before him and tapped it thrice against the stone floor, the demons around him swarming closer. Again he tapped his staff against the tomb, with every beat his panic dissipating, his shoulders growing stronger against the whirlpool of sin around him. With a steady voice, The Seer spoke with a growing gusto the doctrine of his people, a mantra to the beating of the drum:

"Seeking a way yet straying from the way; Not knowing how to find the open air, But toiling desperately to find it out,-"

The Sage raised his staff high into the air and with great strength struck its base against the floor once more. In an instant, a great light of fiery gold erupted from the emptiness surrounding him, giving vision to the man in wraps. The almighty light revealed the creatures about the chamber, a thousand K'lor'slogs covering every inch of the chamber, were suddenly bathed in an unholy light, their mighty maws gaping in sudden blindness.

"And from that torment I will free myself, Or hew my way out with a bloody axe." The small statuette atop the staff faced the K'lor'slugs as they crawled away, as if its eyes burned them to their very soul, sending them into a scattered frenzy. The floor began to clear as The Tutor stepped forward through the chaos, the light growing brighter and brighter. His voice began to fill the halls of the crypt with every passing moment as he raised his claw-like hand to the fearful adversaries, and with great satisfaction, unleashed a hellstorm of vicious Force Lightening into the crowd, "Why, I can smile, and murder whiles I smile, And cry 'Content' to that which grieves my heart."

The great arcs of electricity found their marks against the K'lor'slugs, filling the stagnant air with the smell of chard muscle and ash as the vile creatures cried a rattled cry of agony. The Tutor drank in the agony like a fountain as he continued to chant the ancient hymn, the creatures singing a chorus to his magnetic symphony.

The beasts encompassing him, like a globe of writhing pain, began to break apart, giving freedom to the light as they fell to his power or scuttled away to safety. But it was too late; as The Seer hunted the infestation like a plague, a man bent on carnage, removing the end of his scepter and igniting the sanguine blade to dispatch the slugs. With his sword and staff, The Gaunt Man cut a swath through squirming waves, his voice a booming and metallic enchantment.

"I'll slay more gazers than the basilisk; I'll play the orator as well as Nestor, Change shapes with Proteus for advantages, And set the murderous Machiavel to school. Can I do this, and cannot get a crown?"

Plunging his lightsaber into the hulking thorax of a K'lor'slug, The Barefoot Monk of Korriban raised his staff into the air, sending a dome of lightening outward, catching those creatures unlucky enough to have remained in the chamber, and with roaring conviction, claimed the final rite.

"Tut! were it farther off, I'll pluck it down!"

The room fell silent, the golden light extinguished from The Tutor's being, plunging the blood-strewn floor back into shadow as the crystals above began to glisten. The Barefoot Monk rested on his knees against the wet ground, his breath labored from the divine act. The rage had overwhelmed him, The Dark Side of The Force had coursed through his veins, using him as a vessel for its dark acts. But now he was drained.

Using his staff, The Tutor slowly brought himself back to his feet. His wounds began to take a toll; the K'lor'slug was a venomous beast, it's bite deadly, and though they had not bitten him, their claws had their own poisons. He could feel his vision falter as the chamber vanished from his site in a cloud of soot, swirling about him and in an instant, vanishing. The chamber was gone and the darkness with it as The Seer found himself in another world. In another time. The room was vast and dark, save for a wide beam of cold light from above him, revealing before him a long rostrum of stone - five cloaked beings seated in silence.