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Post by kiankarr on Jan 5, 2012 21:32:55 GMT -5
Kian didn't speak, but silently followed his master. He had the hood of his robe up and his robes rapped tightly around him. The planet appeared to be a desert world, but the darkside energy sent a cool chill through him.
His hand clutched the saber hilt at his side tightly. He didn't like it here. The place had waves upon waves of dark energy, each speaking of the horrors that had taken place here. Kian was an optimist at heart, believing anything to be salvageable. But standing on this world he realized, nothing could ever redeem Korriban.
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Post by Demitri Maximov on Feb 22, 2012 16:13:52 GMT -5
Korriban...a desolate world, marked by ruins, tributes to dead lords long bereft of lordship. It was a tribute to the ruling culture of Korriban, the Sith. Here it would be that the lords of old would create graves for their rest greater than the houses of the living. A world tainted in darkness, soiled by the corruption of the dead that lay buried there, centralized in the valley of the tombs...those final resting place of so many dark lords.
The force sensitive woman was seeking a concentration of dark side energy, and she would find it, a beacon pulsing dark energy from the confines of a derelict tomb, long forgotten and abandoned, or so it seemed. Somewhere within the tomb the dark energy was focused on a single object, an inexplicable object. Something resonating a cold chill. There was only the faintest sign of life consumed by that encompassing darkness.
The maw of the tomb lay open to them, an uninviting malice lingered in the dark tombs of Korriban, but if she sought a concentration of dark side energy, she would find it hidden within. She need only step beyond the precipice and venture into the darkness. Deep inside the tomb a chamber, devoid of natural light held a single stasis pod, a constant depressurizing steam rising from its frozen confines through gaping vents, a constant flickering of lights and readouts monitoring and regulating the faint vital signs for whatever lay frozen within.
It was from this pod that the dark side energy emanated, enveloping the faint life inside, claiming it, consuming it. Stored here for decades the stasis pod had been left, waiting for the time to be right, waiting for when the contents of its frozen prison could be revived from the brink of death. The figure within was gravely wounded, the result of disastrous events long forgotten. For a century and a half the stasis pod had kept the figure alive, frozen in time, prolonging its demise, and now the darkness that greedily enveloped the man within resonated through the force, drawing others closer, could it be the time was right...
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avayl
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Post by avayl on Feb 22, 2012 16:48:16 GMT -5
Their was a reason for everything, no matter what. Sometimes that reason lay beyond the view of a lifetime. For hundreds of years this supposed tomb lay forgotten. The stillness had seeped into the crevasses. Even the small insects dare not move quickly. The fog lay heavy on the floor. Puffs of mist slowly raised into the air off of the container. Suddenly and without a warming the rocks in front of the entrance moved apart. The quick and intrepid movement lifted the fog from the floor and obscured the vision of the two contenders. Drawn, as they were, to this room. A man and a woman. They entered and approached the stasis container. Her hand wiped away the condensation on the plexiglass. The face of a blind man shown beneath. Wonder, wariness, and awe filled the both of them. In low murmurs they conferred with one another about the next action. The male powered up the stasis chamber's status display and scanned the readings. Critical condition ... he shook his head. The man stepped back and took the woman aside. For some reason he felt very wary about speaking in front of that container. "We must ready the ship's medical droid and Bactica Container. I can't believe we are doing this." The woman stepped outside the tomb and walked back to the surface where their ship was landed. It took hours of laboring the preparations. A sense of foreboding lay heavily on their shoulders and doubt often rattled their minds. Moments before they were ready the man sat inside his ship. He was shaking. A cold sweet seeped out of his pores. The woman walked in, he looked up at her tone, slim figure and the olive skin. Her beauty was not meant to be out here in the desert on a graveyard planet. She tried to question him but he could not confide in her his doubts. Solitude was the only was of handling something like this, at least he thought. Finally, after days of preparations, they began to revival process. Ancient machines churned to life and he read the status of the container. Slowly the temperature increased.. At the right time an injection was given to the body that would start the heart and begin the blood flow. A few moments later the lid of the container rose to reveal the body of a living man ...
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Post by Demitri Maximov on Feb 23, 2012 15:54:06 GMT -5
The lid of the pod lifted away, the ancient mechanical systems groaned as an extraction system, long dormant, came to life, exposing the contents to external atmosphere for the first time in over a hundred years. The rapid condensation caused a thick, whirling mist to rise from inside the pod, spilling out over the cylindrical casing cascading to the floor before spreading about the room. The interior lights were a blazing white, illuminating a dark figure that did not stir. The vitals were reading strong; the heart beat strong, the pulse even and the blood pressure steady. A silence hung in the room for moments uncounted. The deep breathe, waiting...before the fall...or the plunge.
The silence was abruptly shattered as the body bolted upright with a startled shout. The figure thrashed about, confused, dazed, frightened, feeling the pull of iv lines stretched taught as he moved and needles prodding into his flesh. He brought his hands, trembling with a rush of emotions, up to his eyes, scratching at his face. He was awake? He was alive? But he had woken to darkness...there was nothing...he could feel, but he could not see...Where was he? What was happening? The realization...of everything...it all came flooding back and he sat still in the pod, the mist boiling out around him, his body covered in layers of dead skin that had never peeled away. His hands clutched at his forehead and kneeded his blind eyes as his mouth dropped open and he let out a low bellow of anger and frustration. The room around him quaked as his emotions stirred, the darkness that consumed him spreading to the room. The pod he was sitting in buckled beneath unseen pressure, the metal casing letting out a sharp metallic groan. Sparks shot up from the console and monitors as their wiring fried and their casings cracked. The dark side fed off his anguish, growing strong...
The force ceased quaking in the room after a moment as he sat silent, his chest heaving. Slowly he ripped at the iv lines, tearing the needles from his flesh as he leaned forward, the hooks in his back stretching as he pulled against them until they tore away, blood seeping out from open wounds. He gripped the sides of the pod and pulled himself out. He slid down the side, his legs descending till his feet hit the floor. He slowly set his weight down on his feet, and his legs buckled beneath him, unaccustomed to supporting him. He crashed down onto his hands and knees on the floor and grimaced from the jarring pain as he growled beneath his breathe, his teeth clinched tight.
He slowly stuck his right hand out, tentatively waving it side to side as he searched the area in front of him. He could hear the sounds of monitors beeping, the mechanical noises of an infirmary, but still everything was dark. How did he know he was awake? It did not take him long to deduce it...it was pain. He knew he was awake because he could feel pain. Gradually his breathing calmed and he leaned back, his thighs resting on his calves as he sat on his haunches. He ran his hands over his naked body, feeling the awkward, filmy layer of dead skin. He dug his fingers into the dead flesh and began to peel it away, tearing it away from his living body. As he did his living flesh was fully exposed to the cold of the infirmary and he flinched momentarily, but continued peeling his skin away.
His movements became more methodical, the peeling of his dead flesh becoming more of a quiet meditation to him as his breathing became steady. He sat silently, his hand tearing away the flesh from his face, his dead skin almost like a molted paste, surrounded by his discarded self.
He was quiet, listening, contemplating, and at last he spoke in a cold, even tone, "I know I'm not alone here." It was an observation, not a question. He could not see, but he could sense there were others, but he did not know their intent.
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avayl
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Post by avayl on Feb 23, 2012 16:29:17 GMT -5
It seemed strange to watch a man become alive once again. At first the man felt pity and sorrow for the weakness and confusion the awakened man found himself in. But that scream .. Was it madness, was it insanity? The scream of agony filled the room. It changed to anger and Dvork watched the universe respond. He pulled the woman, Anika, away and pushed her behind him while back up into the corner. Full minutes went by as the man regained himself. The two of them barely breathing, simply looking on in wonder. Such a mistake this was, thought Dvork, nothing good can come of this. Anika pried herself from the protective hold of Dvork and circled the room until she was standing in the doorway. It was a second before the man spoke that her vision rose above the stasis container. Above the panels and displays, hanging on the wall by two massive pegs, was a monstrous slab of metal in the shape of a sword. Anika looked over to Dvork. She slapped her leg to gain his attention right after the stranger spoke. She waved at him and then pointed to the sword. Dvork looked between her, the man, and the sword. Most definitely not the ideal thing he wanted to see. But this was a tomb of a dark Sith Lord, so he thought. He stepped closer to the man, seeing that he was now mostly subdued for the moment. "You cannot see." He stopped himself and shook his head at the blatantly obvious statment. "My name is Dvork. What is your name?" He knelled down in front of him about five paces away, still wary.
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Post by Demitri Maximov on Feb 23, 2012 17:06:37 GMT -5
Dvork, that was his name. My name? The man's question stabbed him directly in the heart, cutting and wounding him deeply, unintentionally, but the evidence was apparent on his face as he lifted his head in the direction of the voice. Confusion was there, uncertainty written on his features, unexpressed by his dead eyes. His thoughts raced through his mind...but it was shattered, broken, his thoughts, his...memories? they were scattered, divided. They made no sense, coming to him in sharp images, playing out in his mind before fading again. His breathing became ragged again, threatening to overreact but he struggled to control it and grasped for that simplest answer to such a simple question. He was here, he was alive...he had a sense of self...but...who was he?
"M...my name?" He stuttered, unsure of what to say, immediately he felt it did not suit him and felt a twinge of disgust in himself. Regardless of how he felt he had no answer other than the truth, "I don't know."
The weight of that revalation bore down on him with callous objectivity. He had subject...he had to be someone, but to him, here, now, he was no one. He felt the desire to break down. He wanted to surrender to the emotions that were wracking his mind and body, but though he may not know his name he had a sense of self and to break down is not who he is. Of that much he was intrinsicly certain...the rest...he hoped would come in time.
Dvork had made a statement, he could not see. This truth should have filled him with fear, but strangely the darkness felt familiar, and even though he could not see, somewhere in his mind, unclear, like a blurred image he could sense Dvork a woman...and another, a silent presence, familiar...somewhere nearby.
"Dvork, Why did you wake me?" He had a plethora of questions, but that seemed most pressing.
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avayl
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Post by avayl on Feb 23, 2012 17:26:16 GMT -5
A Long 'dead' sith lord ... maybe. Look at what these 'masters' did for their immortality. The sacrifice of the mind for the survival of the body? Or was this a fake? No, the hopelessness and helplessness of this massive man sitting before him was unquestionable. When he mentioned that he could not see it seemed to fit a single puzzle piece into place, many more were scattered across the board that was his mind. Dvork was equally in the dark, so to speak, but this man was a curiosity that overcame his fear. Why did he wake this dead mass of flesh? It was hard to explain. Dvork was an archeologist and a certified researcher. He had come to the dead world of Korriban under the authorization of the Galactic Alliance. This tomb, and others, were the subject of his doctorate. Their exploration of these long sealed chambers was one of the first things they did. However, reviving a long dead blind mad man was not on their list of authorized actions. Already he was thinking of the different ways that he could either cover this up or explain this to a science committee. His options were not many and some not even close to legal. Dvork pivoted on his knee and motioned for Anika to hand him his pack. He rummaged inside and produced a water container. The smooth cold metallic surface brushed up against the strangers leg. "This is water." Trust was the only thing that the stranger could do. Faith that his new 'saviors' would not kill him shortly after reviving him. Dvork took a long sigh. "It's hard to say why we revived you." He glanced back at Anika. "I'm not sure myself." He paused thinking of how much this person could take at once. "We are a part of an expedition. This is my companion Anika. This chamber has not been seen in many hundreds of years, so we think."
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Post by Demitri Maximov on Feb 23, 2012 18:11:30 GMT -5
The metal flask was cold against his naked flesh, a sensation he was rapidly growing tired of. He was alive, he was awake, but all that greeted him was cold, painful darkness, emptiness. That was it, that was what he felt, empty. His mind, his body, it all felt so empty, as if most of who he is was gone, lost to him for now, and maybe forever. He reached down and his hand clumsily fumbled for the canteen, his strong fingers wrapping around it and pausing as if to study how it felt in his hand. Metal...he held it there against his knee, his fingers stroking slowly over the smooth, finely crafted metal...Images of fire and scorched metal played out in his mind, wrenched from fire the metal was blazing with heat and molten energy, the sturdiest construct made pliable to the skilled hand.
He lifted the canteen and unscrewed the top. He paused again, his dead eyes focused in the direction of Dvork's voice. He did not pause out of fear or distrust, but acknowledgement perhaps. Acknowledgement of Dvork's efforts, for whatever reason they had revived him from sleep. How long had he been asleep? He was quietly contemplating this as Dvork talked and he took a short drink of water to quench his thirst and wet his mouth.
He assumed the other noises separate from where Dvork's voice originated belonged to this other, this Anika. He regarded her, or where he had last heard her with a nod, his thoughts unconsciously drifting to what she was feeling at that moment, almost reaching out to her as he could sense her feelings about being here. He looked back to Dvork as he dropped a proverbial bomb.
"Hundreds of years..." How do you process that? He did not know his name, but again he had a sense of self, and that self was telling him that was to long for him...he simply should not 'be'. He sighed and set the canteen down. 'hundreds of years...expedition' he thought about these parts of Dvork's statement.
"What and where is this chamber?" He finally asked, hoping perhaps it would shed light onto who he is. He did not feel overwhelmed anymore. He did not feel frightened, but he was still very curious.
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avayl
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Post by avayl on Feb 23, 2012 18:41:57 GMT -5
A cold shiver ran down Anikas arms, goosebumps. A strange sensation penetrated the area around her head. The feeling of being seen was overtly strange when no one was 'looking.' A tightness in her stomach rose her unease. It was almost too much to understand. The technology existed in this day and age but it had passed as all trends do. Why would a person choose to skip time? The argument that philosophers used was that we are all born, trillions of beings in this galaxy. The future was too uncertain to be judged and one never knew weather tomorrow would be better than today. Therefore, cryogenics had drifted out of the spotlight and into the hobbies of old men not ready to die.
Yet the image in front of her was stark in comparison to old men. True the dead flesh that lay on the ground before him was grotesque and revolting but the body that lay beneath held some semblance of a true form humanoid. Her thoughts rolled over inside of her mind as the man drank. When he asked where they were she rose out of her reverie and the intellectual mind sprung forward with answers.
"This chamber lies deep beneath the Valley of the Dark Lords, but ... It's odd. Many of the catacombs of those lords lay farther away. They are most obviously ancient. Hundreds of millions years old. These chambers, and the adjacent ones, are father away from normal burial sites that we have encountered before. It seems to have been built only a couple hundred years ago. There is no documentation of construction by the old Sith Order before it died into the darkness but we have speculated that-"
Dvork put up his hand for Anika to stop. Sometimes it was quite pleasant to hear her ramble on over dinner and some drinks but in this situation he could only guess at what the strangers reaction would be to her rambling. Anger, frustration, violence? He didn't know, far too many unknowns. Until he knew this ancient person better it was safer to remain cautious.
He thought for a moment. Was it wise to probe his memory further, in this setting? "What do you remember last?"
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Post by Demitri Maximov on Feb 23, 2012 23:00:26 GMT -5
He sensed Anika's reaction, he could not explain how, but it was as if she was exposed without restraint. Dvork was far more reserved and composed, he did not register so blatantly. He listened to Anika's ramblings absentmindedly after she began carrying on. He picked up on key aspects of her statements, choosing to focus on them. Beneath the Valley of the Dark Lords...should that mean something to him? He tried to focus his thoughts, remember things, but it was all garbled and incoherent. He rose slowly, his feet shaking a bit at first, but it was apparent he was quickly getting his bearings. He stood tall, naked for lack of clothing, his shoulders were broad, his entire body a strong muscular frame built from years of combat, but this he did not know, not now. His skin however told a tale he could not. His body was marred by markings, not tribal or ritual, but scars, numerous scars received from blades, blasters and all assortment of weapons. His right hand shook side to side, flipping the canteen to toss the water in the container, a stimulation to try and direct his thoughts.
Valley of the Dark Lords, newer catacombs...burial sights. He sighed and dipped his head, placing his left hand over his eyes, unable to make any sense of it. He knew it should all mean something, there should be some significance, but there was nothing. Nothing for him to grab onto and hold. Nothing stirred in his memory, affected by their words. It was all meaningless. Then Dvork silenced her and there was a pause before he asked a question of his own. He almost laughed at the question but he stayed silent. Last? What did he remember last? He remembered nothing in sequential order.
"It's...fragmented. There's no order, no rhyme or reason to the thoughts in my head. I keep seeing...images, flashes." He went silent for a moment, trying again to focus, remember anything clearly. Then he heard it in his head, a voice cry out in anger 'JAK!'
"Jak!" He blurted out, his head raising and turning to where he had last heard Dvork. "Is that my name? Jak?" He did not know the voice, or the name even for that matter, but it was a thought he had cleared. Something he could grab onto. "I saw a burning courtyard, and someone screaming that name."
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avayl
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Post by avayl on Feb 23, 2012 23:17:15 GMT -5
It almost seemed like a long dead monster was standing in front of them. The dead flesh pooled at the floor and the naked man was still drying from all the moisture. Dvork looked on in silent wonder. His own frame was miniscule in comparison to this mans. Yet, those scars. He could not imagine the life that once gave him those silent reminders. But without sight there would be no reminding. A strange exchange indeed.
Dvork looked back at Anika when the stranger blurted out the name. "We um, have only begun to rummage through the recent archives of the library here. The most recent masters used their own record keepings and we are still unable to translate most of them. but from what I remember there may have been a reference to a Jak a couple hundred years ago." He turned back to Anika. She noded in agreement.
"He's right. given more time we can have an answer for you but .. I'm not sure. You need to get clearned up and eat. We have a ship here. We will take you." A burning courtyard, she though. Over the lifetime of the Sith and Jedi Orders their had been many enclaves, bases, strongholds, havens, but a burning courtyard within the last 200 years? Hard ...
Dvork produced a long thin cloth from his pack and touched it to the strangers hand. "We don't have anything for your feet but this will cover you." Anika lead the way back to their ship. She knew it would be a long grueling walk for all three.
Dvork stopped at the threshold and turned around. "We um, will come back." He shook his head. "I can tell you about it later." He really wanted to avoid asking the man about the massive weapon that hung on the wall over the stasis container. It was a nagging thought in his mind.
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Post by NiomiSykes on Feb 23, 2012 23:40:22 GMT -5
Winds blew around one of the pillars situated near a cave and the colossal tombs that had stood against the sands of time, built to withstand eternity by a race that was considered extinct by now.
A shadow moved from inside a small cave where Sala called home. She had been stranded on the planet years earlier and now lived amidst the desert wastes, haunted by memories of those whose souls rested in the living force.
"No, can't go... they'll get me..." She muttered to herself. She had heard voices and noises outside of her cave and amidst the ruins the past day or so and it frightened her. She hadn't had sentient contact in many years.
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Post by Demitri Maximov on Feb 23, 2012 23:43:42 GMT -5
He turned his head about the room, as if gazing at something, but he was without sight. He listened intently as Dvork talked, hoping the man would give him an answer, anything, but his hopes were quickly dashed. He started formulating questions in his head, ways to maybe piece together some memories if he knew more than he did now. Needless to say he was disappointed by the lack of enlightenment they could provide him. They freed him without reason...and they knew nothing about him....or so they claimed these things.
"Very bold of you..." His sense of self could piece together trends, and perhaps it was paranoia, but, "do archeologists always take such risks, charging headlong into the unknown?" His lifeless eyes peered into Dvork as the light in the room seemed to reflexively dim as his tone grew deeper, each word a gruff rumble from deep within his chest. There had been mention of a Jak, several hundred years ago. Had they not said they believed him to be around that age. Though he questioned them curiosity drove him, and the possibility of discovering more overshadowed any doubt he may have. Then they offered him sanctuary and sustenance.
He bowed his head to them in gratitude, "Thank you for your hospitality". He felt something being pressed against his hand as Dvork drew near to him. He casually grasped the cloth and exchanged it for the canteen of water, holding it out for Dvork to take. He wriggled his toes for a moment as he contemplated Dvork's words. He grinned finally, "I will manage, thank you". He slid his left hand down the length of the cloth, stretching it out in front of him as he whipped it around his body, pulling it in tight around his waist and tying the cloth into a tight knot in front of him. He could feel the fabric dragging around him, but it would suffice.
He caught it immediately, it was subtle, but it was a change. Dvork paused in his sentence. Um? The man had been so self assured before. His words had been without a break, but as they were about to leave he stumbles? Was there significance to that or was he just being paranoid? He stood still for a moment, and then decided he had little choice. "So dark lords...of what? Tell me about all of this...place." He strode forward, walking in the direction he felt them, following them as they led the way to the mouth of the tomb. He stepped up behind them, feeling the heat of the sun for the first time in...he did not know. It was near midday and the sun was bright and high in the sky, it's red gloom casting an eerie glow about Korriban.
He would trek on, following them diligently, never once complaining as the rocks stabbed and cut the damp flesh of his feet. He would not complain, he would not burden them. He walked silently, his mind stretching out, trying desperately to feel something, know something...and he stopped.
"Wait." He commanded, turning his upper body to gaze back in the general direction of the tomb they had left. He stood silently, not explaining himself, not elaborating as to why for a short while. He was searching, seeking.
"The race that built these tombs. They have long been absent?" He awaited the reply, but he knew the answer, if they were here, studying abandoned ruins...the problem was...they weren't abandoned.
"We're not alone here."
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avayl
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Post by avayl on Feb 24, 2012 11:16:30 GMT -5
It was such a simple word. It had existed for as long as there was language. But the way in which the stranger had said it was almost like .. he had said it so many times before. He was probably very accustomed to people listening to a command like that. What was he? What life did he lead that had embedded a natural command into the very fabric of who he was? He didn't even know his own name but the persona of command still stayed with him through thick and thin. The nature of this man was being revealed one moment at a time. Apprehension existed as a bookmark in Dvork's mind.
The reaction Dvork had almost made him. Almost, at least he didn't snap to attention. Instead he froze in mid stride. His mind reeled at the numerous possibilities of why he wanted them to stop. Then he turned his head and saw the stranger looking in the direction of the sword. No, no, no, he thought; you cannot have it. Fear sprung into his heart and doubt pierced his mind. He looked at Anika who reflected his fear right back at him.
Her bewilderment was only comparable to the question of was he really 'seeing' the massive sword? Or was it another sense.. The answer came in the strangers statement. For the third time today a cold sweat broke out on her skin. It came as almost no surprise that the strength in her arms and legs left her. In stead of holding her breath and listening for sounds; she could not help but breath. Panic was creeping up.
Dvork reclaimed himself and strapped on his pack tightly. He took two solid steps into the chamber and was right beside the stranger. His senses were on high alert. Palms open, feet spread a part, knees slightly bent. He scanned the surrounding area; nothing. Then a small sensation entered his mind. It was a slight non-physical penetrating feeling around the top and sides of his head. It grew into a deep feeling of .. connection. Of an outer sense penetrating his mind. With this feeling came the definitive knowing that the stranger was right. He did not know how or why he knew. But an eerie foreboding hung around his mind. It was impossible to deny; foolish even. Dvork remained still. Something was out there.
"Anika, Go back to the ship and start the defense protocol. We will be right behind you."
Anika was shaking. Her knees almost gave out below her. She could hardly keep a hold on her bag of archeological equipment. She still hadn't taken any samples yet. Little to no documentation of their findings in this chamber. No evidence of what they found, no proof. Their explorations had only begun in the Archives chambers and most recent council rooms. They were scheduled to be here for two weeks. It had only been a couple days. Defense protocol? Her mind searched for what Dvork was talking about. The ship! Safety.
Her immediate and instantaneous action was so wild and uncoordinated that she stumbled over a rock and fell to the ground before she even exited the chamber. She was still shaking. Her panic increasing at steady levels. But there was a plan; Dvork had a plan. He must know what he was doing. He must. Anika ran out into the blazing sun of high noon. The change from darkness to light was blinding and disorienting. But she ran. And fell. Picked herself up; ran some more, stumbled and fell again. Dirt was covering her in layers as it attached to the sweat on her skin. She got farther this time. The ship was only a quarter of a mile away.
Back inside the chamber Dvork straightened his back and rubbed the dirt from between his hands. Now that she's gone, he thought. His hand slid into the bottom compartment of his pack and produced a small black blaster. This slim matte black pistol was easy to conceal. It was hardly bigger than the length of his hand but it could still harm a person, or thing. He switched on the device and held it with both hands. He repositioned his feet and torso. Left foot behind, right foot upfront. Slow steady breaths. Razor sharp focus. His training had taken over. Not many people would suspect an Imperial Spy in the midst of a Republic Archeological team.
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Post by NiomiSykes on Feb 24, 2012 17:08:37 GMT -5
Sala shook with the waves of anxiety and excitement that rose from deep in her chest, making her breathing ragged. She wrapped her dirty, blood stained tunic around her more tightly.
She couldn't stop her foot from tapping on the floor of the cave she considered home. She had to get off this rock. Maybe these people could help. She assumed they couldn't and she was terrified of them. Some of them emitted as much dark energy as the dark energy that haunted the desolate planet and ruins themselves.
Her knotted hair had been cut by a jagged vibroknife over the years as soon as it had become long enough to annoy her. She ran a hand over her scalp, feeling the jagged horns that protruded from her skull. She was a Zabrack, formerly a smuggler, hoping to find a life taking artifacts and minerals from the ruins here.
She hadn't seen real living beings in years, only the creatures whose souls were saturated with dark energy and whose flesh she fed off of when the hungry became too hard to bear.
"Can't... can't..." She murmered, rocking nervously on her heels, with a nervous grin forming on her blood stained teeth. "Want to... ccan't..."
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