Post by Ghostie on Jun 20, 2019 2:33:35 GMT
Thread Status: Open
Location: Korriban
Characters: Ailyn Vos, Yuthura Ban
“How long is this gonna take, Kid?”
The steady, gravely voice rose up from the back of the small gang. It’s owner’s appearance betrayed the calm tone, as the Weequay’s beady eyes shifted to the left and right, and back again across the red sand dunes and ridges of the horizon. The alien had to keep himself from fidgeting from one foot to the other, as he held his blaster rifle across his chest and in a ready position. Robbing tombs on Korriban. The boss had to be crazy this time. Jhoram almost didn’t care what the loot was or how much the job paid, Sev should have simply turned it down. The Sith would be down around them any moment now. And even if they weren’t, the rumors of the spirits and monsters that came out of these tombs made the Mercenary’s bones grow cold.
“‘Eah, ‘urry it up, will ya?”
The human standing with Jhoram was just as impatient,and just as fidgety. The Weequay estimated that Boran had gone through at least three of cigs as they stood there waiting, and was now working on a four, the final one. The absolute mammoth of a man absent-mindedly discarded the carton on the sands under his feet before lighting the tobacco in his free hand. The other, a cybernetic replacement, held a blaster cannon across his shoulder that was equally as massive as it’s wielder.
“This isn’t an exact - ” The young man’s voice shook a little, but held.
“We don’ care wha’ it is…” Boran cut off the young man working on the large, sliding stone door to the tomb before Jhoran had a chance to speak. “... We don’ wanna be sittin’ out ‘ere like nexu cubs wiff our tails between our legs, ya feel me? One of dem Sithies is bound to come along, and dat wouldn’t be good fer no one, would it?”
“I’m trying my best. No one has even - ”
“We know you are, Sal…”
Jhoram, Boran, and the young man at the door all turned when this new voice approach. It was well groomed, with a slight accent, and aptly fit it’s owner. A human male approached, with shoulder length black hair and a beard. He wore a jacket, which Jhoram felt was a bit odd on Korriban, but the Weequay wasn’t the one roasting. On the man’s hip was a pair of blaster pistols, and behind him was the rest of the mercenary crew; a few more humans, two Twi’leks, a Rodian, and a Sullustan, all armed with their own personal preference of weapons.
“... None the less, Boran here is right. If you can’t get this door open, we’ll have to blast it. And we wouldn’t want that, would we?” As the Captain spoke, he walked slowly across the group, and put an arm around the young man’s shoulders. Sal’s grey initiate’s uniform was pressed tight as the Mercenary half hugged him, and the young man’s green eyes screwed up in worry.
All in all, the Salwas rather innocent looking for a Sith, the Weequay thought.
“N-no. I’m trying, I swear. N-no one else had been able to open it, yet.” The Sith Initiate mumbled.
“I know.” The Captain repeated kindly, with a half smile. “Few more minutes, alright?” And with that, he left the young Sith to his task, wand walked back to his crew.
“Cap’n.” Boran said, nodding. His voice low, he had to ask. “Think the Kid can do it?”
The black-haired man looked back to where Sal was working, and gave a bit of a shrug.
“He’s my cousin. He knows what happens when people fail me.”
After a few more minutes, the was a whoop of hurray and achievement, drowned out by the sound of sliding stone against stone as the door slowly dropped into the ground. The entire mercenary crew, startled at the turn of events, jumped from where they had been congregating and ran for the entrance of the tomb, stopping just outside. The Captain laid his arm across Sal’s shoulders once again, after clapping him on the back.
“Nice work, Sal.” The older man spoke up.
“Thanks, Alsten…”
The Initiate seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. A sigh was answered by the Tomb’s own breath. As the stone finally finished opening, there was a loud gust of air, short and to the point. It was cold to the touch, as if ice were carried on it’s currents despite the desert heat. Everyone seemed to take a step or two back as it hit them, even Sal. Everyone, that was, except for Alsten, who stood on the edge of the entrance, which immediate dropped into a long series of stairs.
“Oh, this is the place, alright.” Starting down into the tomb, Alsten took the steps slowly, turning on his glowrod once he was only a few feet in. “C’mon, Sal! We’ll need you to tell us what we’re looking for!”
Sal, along with the rest of the mercenary crew, started rather slowly and unsteady after their compatriot.
The only sounds across the sands of Korriban, outside of the Valley of the Dark Lords that was, was the sound of a speeder bike’s high pitched wail as it’s pilot drove it hard and to its maximum throttle, their black robes whipping behind them against the drag of the wind. That was how it should be - quiet. No one, not even the citizens of Deshade were allowed out to wander the red deserts without special approval of the Sith Empire. And now, under the cover of the early morning dawn, a ship had slipped through, and landed in an unregistered area. But it wasn’t just any unregistered area, chosen at random as a good place to set down. The freighter’s projected flight path had put it just by one of the Sith’s newest digsites - a crypt in an old lakebed, thought to be related to the ancient Sith Lord Marka Ragnos. Not Ragnos’s actual tomb, though. That was ever present. No, this was thought to be some sort of vault of the ancient Sith Lord. A trove of treasures, if one were to get inside.
And with nothing better to do than to help train Initiates in the Academy, Ailyn had volunteered to take responsibility for the matter.
No one had been able to open the ruins as of yet, as far as she knew, so the Kiffar wasn’t very worried about would-be graverobbers. That was, she mused as she drove across the backdrop of the Korriban sunrise, more than likely the ship’s crew’s goal however. To the right collector, genuine artifacts from either the Jedi or the Sith were priceless. Unfortunately for them, they had chosen the wrong plane to try and make a quick credit off of. Simply landing in the wrong spot was an arrest at worst. But robbing from the Sith Order?
That was a death sentence.
Who would come to Korriban, the Sith’s homeworld, the Sith’s center of training, to try and steal stuff from the Sith?
The Kiffar’s mind rang with this question over and over again, until the old lakebed finally came into view. Throttling down the speeder bike, Ailyn drove slowly, keeping her senses alert for any sort of ambush or trap. Scattered about were dozens of steles, rectangular stone pillars jutting out from the sands in every which angle and height. Each was carved in the ancient Sith language, and better scholars than Ailyn spent months trying to decipher them all. Off to one side was the intruding freighter. A Corellian Engineering Corporation model, if the Kiffar had to make an educated guess about it’s saucer-like hull and modular design.
But Ailyn’s crimson eyes were drawn the crypt, directly in front of her. Where once was a large stone door was now a dark, empty chasm, open to the Galaxy. The Kiffar’s mind raced with explanations as to how some ragtag band could open a newly discovered tomb that Korriban’s best scholars had been working on for the better part of a week. And as her mind race, the bubbling, boiling sea of rage rose in the woman’s chest. How dare they defile the place, and simply help themselves. Whoever they were, they were certainly in for it now.
Pulling her speeder bike up to the very entrance of the crypt, Ailyn turned off the vehicle, and quickly climbed off. The Sith wasted no time in hurrying to the edge of the tomb’s entrance. She could see in the early morning’s sun the beginnings of the steps leading down into the warrens below. She could feel the crypt’s dark, icy pull, as if it wanted her to journey inside. As if it wanted her to clear out the would be grave robbers. It was at that moment, as she started to slowly pace and think, that Ailyn’s armored boot connected with something completely unnatural. Looking down slowly, she saw the discarded carton from a box of cigs.
The Kiffar bent to pick up the piece of litter, and focused on it, tapping into the Force. Her eyes closed to the natural world, she could see in her mind a mammoth of a man, human and bald, with dark skin and a cybernetic arm. Ailyn saw the man buying the cigs, and then all of a sudden she was standing not far from where she had been standing before. The mammoth-man smoked one cig. And then another, and another until they were all gone. But before he discarded the used carton, Ailyn saw the back of a young man wearing a Sith Initiate’s uniform, and standing at the still closed door to the crypt.
Snapping back to the land of the living, the Kiffar opened her eyes, and her mouth pursed into a thin smile. Pyschometry was such a wonderful tool for putting all the pieces of the puzzle together, and Ailyn liked knowing all she could. And that little piece of trash had explained it all - this was an inside job. Everything made sense, aside from the thieves death wish, that was.
Discarding the carton herself, Ailyn pulled her black hood around her short hair, and made herself ready to descend into the darkness below.
Location: Korriban
Characters: Ailyn Vos, Yuthura Ban
“How long is this gonna take, Kid?”
The steady, gravely voice rose up from the back of the small gang. It’s owner’s appearance betrayed the calm tone, as the Weequay’s beady eyes shifted to the left and right, and back again across the red sand dunes and ridges of the horizon. The alien had to keep himself from fidgeting from one foot to the other, as he held his blaster rifle across his chest and in a ready position. Robbing tombs on Korriban. The boss had to be crazy this time. Jhoram almost didn’t care what the loot was or how much the job paid, Sev should have simply turned it down. The Sith would be down around them any moment now. And even if they weren’t, the rumors of the spirits and monsters that came out of these tombs made the Mercenary’s bones grow cold.
“‘Eah, ‘urry it up, will ya?”
The human standing with Jhoram was just as impatient,and just as fidgety. The Weequay estimated that Boran had gone through at least three of cigs as they stood there waiting, and was now working on a four, the final one. The absolute mammoth of a man absent-mindedly discarded the carton on the sands under his feet before lighting the tobacco in his free hand. The other, a cybernetic replacement, held a blaster cannon across his shoulder that was equally as massive as it’s wielder.
“This isn’t an exact - ” The young man’s voice shook a little, but held.
“We don’ care wha’ it is…” Boran cut off the young man working on the large, sliding stone door to the tomb before Jhoran had a chance to speak. “... We don’ wanna be sittin’ out ‘ere like nexu cubs wiff our tails between our legs, ya feel me? One of dem Sithies is bound to come along, and dat wouldn’t be good fer no one, would it?”
“I’m trying my best. No one has even - ”
“We know you are, Sal…”
Jhoram, Boran, and the young man at the door all turned when this new voice approach. It was well groomed, with a slight accent, and aptly fit it’s owner. A human male approached, with shoulder length black hair and a beard. He wore a jacket, which Jhoram felt was a bit odd on Korriban, but the Weequay wasn’t the one roasting. On the man’s hip was a pair of blaster pistols, and behind him was the rest of the mercenary crew; a few more humans, two Twi’leks, a Rodian, and a Sullustan, all armed with their own personal preference of weapons.
“... None the less, Boran here is right. If you can’t get this door open, we’ll have to blast it. And we wouldn’t want that, would we?” As the Captain spoke, he walked slowly across the group, and put an arm around the young man’s shoulders. Sal’s grey initiate’s uniform was pressed tight as the Mercenary half hugged him, and the young man’s green eyes screwed up in worry.
All in all, the Salwas rather innocent looking for a Sith, the Weequay thought.
“N-no. I’m trying, I swear. N-no one else had been able to open it, yet.” The Sith Initiate mumbled.
“I know.” The Captain repeated kindly, with a half smile. “Few more minutes, alright?” And with that, he left the young Sith to his task, wand walked back to his crew.
“Cap’n.” Boran said, nodding. His voice low, he had to ask. “Think the Kid can do it?”
The black-haired man looked back to where Sal was working, and gave a bit of a shrug.
“He’s my cousin. He knows what happens when people fail me.”
After a few more minutes, the was a whoop of hurray and achievement, drowned out by the sound of sliding stone against stone as the door slowly dropped into the ground. The entire mercenary crew, startled at the turn of events, jumped from where they had been congregating and ran for the entrance of the tomb, stopping just outside. The Captain laid his arm across Sal’s shoulders once again, after clapping him on the back.
“Nice work, Sal.” The older man spoke up.
“Thanks, Alsten…”
The Initiate seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. A sigh was answered by the Tomb’s own breath. As the stone finally finished opening, there was a loud gust of air, short and to the point. It was cold to the touch, as if ice were carried on it’s currents despite the desert heat. Everyone seemed to take a step or two back as it hit them, even Sal. Everyone, that was, except for Alsten, who stood on the edge of the entrance, which immediate dropped into a long series of stairs.
“Oh, this is the place, alright.” Starting down into the tomb, Alsten took the steps slowly, turning on his glowrod once he was only a few feet in. “C’mon, Sal! We’ll need you to tell us what we’re looking for!”
Sal, along with the rest of the mercenary crew, started rather slowly and unsteady after their compatriot.
The only sounds across the sands of Korriban, outside of the Valley of the Dark Lords that was, was the sound of a speeder bike’s high pitched wail as it’s pilot drove it hard and to its maximum throttle, their black robes whipping behind them against the drag of the wind. That was how it should be - quiet. No one, not even the citizens of Deshade were allowed out to wander the red deserts without special approval of the Sith Empire. And now, under the cover of the early morning dawn, a ship had slipped through, and landed in an unregistered area. But it wasn’t just any unregistered area, chosen at random as a good place to set down. The freighter’s projected flight path had put it just by one of the Sith’s newest digsites - a crypt in an old lakebed, thought to be related to the ancient Sith Lord Marka Ragnos. Not Ragnos’s actual tomb, though. That was ever present. No, this was thought to be some sort of vault of the ancient Sith Lord. A trove of treasures, if one were to get inside.
And with nothing better to do than to help train Initiates in the Academy, Ailyn had volunteered to take responsibility for the matter.
No one had been able to open the ruins as of yet, as far as she knew, so the Kiffar wasn’t very worried about would-be graverobbers. That was, she mused as she drove across the backdrop of the Korriban sunrise, more than likely the ship’s crew’s goal however. To the right collector, genuine artifacts from either the Jedi or the Sith were priceless. Unfortunately for them, they had chosen the wrong plane to try and make a quick credit off of. Simply landing in the wrong spot was an arrest at worst. But robbing from the Sith Order?
That was a death sentence.
Who would come to Korriban, the Sith’s homeworld, the Sith’s center of training, to try and steal stuff from the Sith?
The Kiffar’s mind rang with this question over and over again, until the old lakebed finally came into view. Throttling down the speeder bike, Ailyn drove slowly, keeping her senses alert for any sort of ambush or trap. Scattered about were dozens of steles, rectangular stone pillars jutting out from the sands in every which angle and height. Each was carved in the ancient Sith language, and better scholars than Ailyn spent months trying to decipher them all. Off to one side was the intruding freighter. A Corellian Engineering Corporation model, if the Kiffar had to make an educated guess about it’s saucer-like hull and modular design.
But Ailyn’s crimson eyes were drawn the crypt, directly in front of her. Where once was a large stone door was now a dark, empty chasm, open to the Galaxy. The Kiffar’s mind raced with explanations as to how some ragtag band could open a newly discovered tomb that Korriban’s best scholars had been working on for the better part of a week. And as her mind race, the bubbling, boiling sea of rage rose in the woman’s chest. How dare they defile the place, and simply help themselves. Whoever they were, they were certainly in for it now.
Pulling her speeder bike up to the very entrance of the crypt, Ailyn turned off the vehicle, and quickly climbed off. The Sith wasted no time in hurrying to the edge of the tomb’s entrance. She could see in the early morning’s sun the beginnings of the steps leading down into the warrens below. She could feel the crypt’s dark, icy pull, as if it wanted her to journey inside. As if it wanted her to clear out the would be grave robbers. It was at that moment, as she started to slowly pace and think, that Ailyn’s armored boot connected with something completely unnatural. Looking down slowly, she saw the discarded carton from a box of cigs.
The Kiffar bent to pick up the piece of litter, and focused on it, tapping into the Force. Her eyes closed to the natural world, she could see in her mind a mammoth of a man, human and bald, with dark skin and a cybernetic arm. Ailyn saw the man buying the cigs, and then all of a sudden she was standing not far from where she had been standing before. The mammoth-man smoked one cig. And then another, and another until they were all gone. But before he discarded the used carton, Ailyn saw the back of a young man wearing a Sith Initiate’s uniform, and standing at the still closed door to the crypt.
Snapping back to the land of the living, the Kiffar opened her eyes, and her mouth pursed into a thin smile. Pyschometry was such a wonderful tool for putting all the pieces of the puzzle together, and Ailyn liked knowing all she could. And that little piece of trash had explained it all - this was an inside job. Everything made sense, aside from the thieves death wish, that was.
Discarding the carton herself, Ailyn pulled her black hood around her short hair, and made herself ready to descend into the darkness below.
