Log:Knights of Ren: Drop it Like it's Hoth
Drop it Like it's Hoth
OOC Date: November 10, 2020
Location: Hoth
Participants: Malik Ren, Sebek, Tarq Najjic, Tamsin Cas, Syrus, Imani, and Andro Tain as GM. Knights of Ren
The Ren's new archaeologist makes the best of a bad situation, and everyone has just a fantastic time.
Andro Tain
Andro Tain is nothing if not an opportunist, and since they're all on Hoth anyway...
"So, a few weeks ago, I was browsing through your library when I came across a sketch that piqued my interest... Because I had seen it before." Clearing her throat dramatically, Andy depresses a button on her handheld holoprojector, one that had been tucked away within the folds of her clothing and survived the crash, and reveals a disturbing image: a crown made of bone. Its blue likeness slowly rotates above the palm of her hand.
"Scavengers an' tomb raiders have been calling it 'Death's Crown' for years; legend goes that it was left there by a powerful sorcerer that flew into a fit of jealous rage, killing dozens of people, and his lover, before sealing his most prized possession in a pillar of ice... You can understand how I assumed tha' he might have been one of yours." Andy pauses for a moment, allowing them to digest this information, before continuing. "There are rumors about where it is, but most are false... I found it, a few years ago, I just didn't have the - ah - th'firepower to retrieve it. I'll get to that in a minute." She clears her throat before gesturing at her knot of dangerous coworkers. "Point is? Now I do."
She continues, cycling through images on the holoprojector as she speaks: "The Crown - which is a horrid misnomer, it's more of a circlet, so I'm calling it th'Bone Circlet from now on, because that is more /accurate/ - is held deep within /this/ cave, on this very planet. As fate would have it? It's just a short hike away." The image changes to show a map of a deep, elaborate cave and tunnel system. "When I last tried for it, I had managed to map the cave - so, you won't be going in /totally/ blind - but I also don't know how things have changed down there. It's been a few years." As she presses another button, the likeness of a terrifying beast appears: a dragon slug. 20 meters of fire-breathing, thick-skinned, ice-cave-dwelling horror.
"This is why you're coming with me, an' why I couldn't get it the last time. While you keep mama occupied, I will be busy melting the circlet free, an' then we can get th'hell out." The holoprojector blinks out and is returned to its home in Andy's pocket. She almost certainly prepared all of this before they left, just in case they were here for an extended period of time. "Any questions?"
Malik Ren
Supplies are short. Only a ration bar or two per person, per day -- There's plenty of water, and the frozen body (and head) of Lieutenant Kepp, but actual food? Sparse, and by now, it's been long enough for everyone to start getting hungry. Hungry and worried.
Whatever Andy has in mind here is a welcome distraction.
"I have never, in my life, killed anyone in a jealous rage," Malik Ren objects to 'one of yours', dryly. "And if I did I certainly wouldn't go throwing my bloody possessions into ice over it."
Unmasked, it's easy to see both eyebrows climb a little higher when Andro mentions the Thick Skinned Ice Cave Dwelling Horror, or TSICD-Ho. That's all he does. One hell of a brow raise, then Malik tugs his helmet back over his head with a finality that might as well be a grudging MAKE IT SO.
Sebek
Sebek of the Desert, Flagbearer of Coret, Conqueror of the Sixteenth Deck, Consumer of Hounds, Wielder of Tei Tenga, He Who Hunts had spent the landing on Hoth unconscious from a head wound. Even now his head ridges bore three small white bands holding stitches together. His skin was sitting somewhere yellowy-greeny-ish, a good indicator that he was once again close to losing his temper. Sleeping during a fight was not a great way to start an adventure. Nor was eating your meat cold.
"Yes. One. Your slug beast. Does it lair somewhere warm, or does it internally combust? He Who Died has not proven to be sufficient. We require additional rations."
Tarq Najjic
"Tarq Najjic has a question." The slim man is already standing, arms crossed. "Is it safe to eat? That is much meat, and our exit strategy is-" He waves a hand in the air and wiggles his fingers. "-being /workshopped/." He stomps one of his feet in irritation. "Old valuables - fabulous, yes, but for something edible? I will bring war."
Tamsin Cas
"I feel," Tamsin began, from where she was exchanging one of the self-heating pads she had tucked into her robes, "That you are downplaying the difficulty of 'keeping' this creature occupied. Not only does its breath endanger us personally, but wouldn't using too much of it damage the integrity of the cave system and thus endanger us all?" She glanced to everyone who had decided to come on this escapade, and looked as ready to go as she was likely to be, "And we can't very well just 'get the hell out' and leave a threat in here with us." She did offer to Sebek, "You did not have to eat the meat cold. You could have cut a piece of steel to use as a grill plate and heated it with your lightsaber." Stab her when she starts getting too logical, folks.
Syrus
"There's no records of Hoth being home to civilization. Why would a crown be here?" Syrus asks, ever the cynin, as he pulls his riftiaworm hyde coat tighter around his body. "And maybe we'll just get lucky and the circlet's terrifying protector has simply...shuffled off its mortal coil," the Kiffar hopes, knowing full-well that the circlet's terrifying protector is likely still very much alive.
Imani
"Wait," Imani's eyes are visible as her helmet is off, tucked beneath one arm as she listens to the plans being laid out. "Wait. There is a slug that breathes fire?" She. Is. Fascinated. "Actual fire? That is incredible. And terrifying. But could you imagine being able to do that? Is it edible? Not that I'm complaining about the rations, but some of us have some impressive appetites and having more food on hand would be good." Sebek gets a look. She might be a little afraid Sebek will eat them. She looks away. "We can do this."
Questions are answered as they move, in the order in which they were recieved: "1. I'm not sure where it lairs, but I know that its heat is enough t'melt some new tunnels. So its an internal combustion, keeps it warm - could also be useful, if we are able to kill it." "2. We leave the way we came, and if that isn't an option and all other points of egress are blocked... Then we use a lightsaber, and we get real clever." "3. The cave is deep enough underground where it shouldn't /collapse/ on us very easily. It is a danger, but I have noticed that this thing doesn't want to bury itself, either. It has been there long enough without burying... Everything." "4.It is my understanding that they were here /for/ something. Not sure what. Something happened, feelings were hurt, CIRCLET was sealed in ice. He had a flair for th'dramatics." And, finally: "5. I... Do not know if it is edible. But we can find out!"
For the most part, they are able to make their way through the caverns, staying underground until they absolutely have to venture out into the snows. Bundled up, and likely using the powers of the Force awarded to those that have it, the group treks across the tundra on high alert. It takes about an hour to reach the mouth of the caves. It'll be warmer inside, safe from the wind, and Andro is in a hurry to get the search underway.
Almost immediately, it becomes clear that Andy's map isn't going to be an exact match - this area is riddled with massive, cave-imitating snow slugs, and they have a tendency to re-work the terrain... Shortly through the entrance, they meet a solid wall of rock and ice.
"I calculated for this, but it's a pain." The Mirialan groans, changing something on her datapad. After a moment's calculation and pause, she nods. "This way." Andy turns them down a tunnel, squeezing through a crack in the icy wall, and following her new pathway projections. The tunnel descends, twisting and turning, their archaeologist guide taking them on offshoots seemingly at random, but she assures them that she knows what she is doing.
Let's all hope that she is telling the truth.
Ice. Ice. Ice. MORE ice. It's freezing! Be awesome if there was a power at work here to make everything a little warmer, right? Paused anyway for a moment while their Mirialan team leader reconsiders the cave terrain, Malik takes a moment to pause, focus on altering the temperature.... .... which is not a particular area of expertise for him, and the temperature drops noticeably around their leader. The fur of his cloak is FROST RIMED. He's masked, face unseen, so his expression cannot be read and he isn't voicing any complaints... but there's a slight shift to his posture, something just a little less perfect than usual, that suggests the risk he took is calculated but man, he's bad at math.
It was when the cold-blooded (figuratively and literally) alien noticed that He Who Leads was suddenly making a cold area much colder that Sebek fell back from near the front of the pack to the rear. "Twisty little passages all alike. Akin to the warrens of the tall gleaming cities. Prey is prey and the hunt is the hunt." His breath fogged with every word, and his skin flickered with constant annoyance. Tei Tenga sat on his hip, hungry as its wielder, and a welcome respite. But that would make Sebek prey, and Sebek was not prey. "And we all grow peckish."
As their troop makes its way through the caverns, across the snow, and back into a cavern, Tarq keeps his mouth covered by the flaps of his exceptionally fuzzy hat, and his eyes are behind wide goggles that cover the space between forehead and nose.
Only once they're underground again does he shift the goggles back away from his eyes. The wonders of the ice wall get a moment's attention, but he is walking in the back, when Sebek falls back. "Maybe the slugs grow peckish also." His glares at the wall and the sinuous tunnels they travel invite something hostile to break through. "Never eaten slug. Might be delicious."
Tamsin, having said her piece, trudged in silence. She allowed the leader to lead and occupied herself with keeping a close watch on each member of the party, falling back or moving ahead as she needed to to ensure that they were managing the cold and the length of the walk reasonably well. And then they were inside the cave and seemingly at an impasse. And there was nothing to do but 1: wait, and 2: watch Malik the (suddenly) Ren-Popcicle standing in uncomfortable silence. Tamsin reached into her bag, withdrawing a handful of the warmers and beginning to tear them open. "Malik." She looked, for a moment, as if she might simply do it herself, in that sort of instinctual 'doctor, please handle this emergency without being told to' sort of a way, and then she simply stopped, as though thinking better of the invasion of his personal space, and offered them to him. "Pack them in around your core. They should help."
"I see," is Syrus' response to his fellow tomb raider. The Kiffar loves crawling around in cave systems, usually, but it's an altogether different story when you've actually prepared for a dig. Like with food. And heaters. And a ship to leave on when you ultimately lose your quarry to your Twi'lek rival who tells you that there is nothing you can possess which he cannot take away. Damn B'eloch.
Syrus continues his wandering after the group, hands tucking into the warm-enough coat that was advertised as 'cozy and flame-retardent' due to the nature of the beast from which it was fashioned, and he looks to Tarq, shaking his head at the young man's assumption. Slug is not delicious. Unless you're B'eloch.
Imani adjusts the thin head stocking that she brought for wearing beneath her helmet out in the frigid temperatures here on Hoth, then slides her helmet into place. A quick check of her weapons is done, all other items, there. She's ready. It's getting colder. Colder. She's too close to Malik, and that drop in degrees is felt. "Do you think the slug is amenable to being kept as a pet? We could use it as a primitive heating system for however long we're stuck here." Every time they stop for Andy to figure out their path, she's there bouncing and pacing to keep the blood flowing because she is C-O-L-D. "Slug-type creatures are a delicacy on some worlds. The texture is iffy, but if you can get past that it'll serve you well enough as food."
Is it colder down here or is it just Andy? It must be a trick of the mind. Amidst optimistic thoughts on the taste of slugs, discussions on the nature of tunnels and hunting, and questions on the slug's pethood (not likely), they squeeze and traverse through the tunnels... And then it changes. The journey eventually finds them, quite abruptly in a long, more deliberately-carved halway. High, vaulted ceilings, a smooth floor... And, as they continue down it, they pass statues carved into the ice: a twi'lek holding a hammer, a human holding a sword, and a Mandalorian of indeterminate race holding a crossbow. These statues repeat; the twi'lek, the human, the mandalorian, until they reach the end of the hallway... And a round, stone door, so covered in frost and grime that it could have been mistaken for a wall at first glance. There doesn't seem to be any way to open it...
"These must have been here for hundreds... Maybe thousands of years! Th'details on these weapons... This was a -" and on it goes. They've lost Andro Tain, she's still at the statues, documenting every inch of them. They'll probably be on their own for this one.
Malik looks over at Tamsin at the sound of his name, inscrutable helmet-mask perhaps inclining one against intruding within his personal space unexpectedly. But when she hands over the little warmers, rather than attaching them to his person herself, he does accept. "Thank you, Doctor Cas." It's still cold around him. He's enforcing social distancing. The warmers are tucked into layers of robes, and Malik continues forward as though confident he can leave the mistake somewhere behind him. He can't. But it's a good thought.
They arrive in the ornate hall, and here, Malik seems surprised, pulling his helmet off as though to get an unobstructed view of the hall. "Here on Hoth of all places? Really?" He exhales, breath making a frosty cloud. "So... unlikely." But you know what, there's a door there, and it's to the door he goes, studying it for a moment before crouching down, and reaching for something under the door. "Three rings." Gloved hands pull at them a bit, scraping. "Frozen with age, but movable... each marked with shapes. Three rings, three weapons, three species in the sculptures... must relate somehow, but truth be told, my inclination here is 'find out if this door is lightsaber proof.'"
Puzzles! They were a great way to keep the mind fresh and beating. Real good for tickling the old noodle, there. Unfortunately when confronted with Sebek of the Desert, they ran up against a wall of blood and ignorance and thus had to go entertain someone else, someone with a brain.
"Then let us determine," hissed the Falleen as Tei Tenga flew out of its thigh holster and into Sebek's hand, bursting to life with a horrible noise. The weapon was held high and then brought low upon the door that barred them so rudely. WHUNK. A chunk of ice flew out, bringing with it dirt and mud and other horrible smells. The door held, but the seals had been loosened. "Behold, for architecture once again falls prey to the mighty."
Tarq follows Sebek, and after his swing, he walks forward to sit on his heels next to Malik, despite the cold emanating. He might be invading the man's personal space, but the man is also crouching at their way onward. Tarq reaches out his own hands to touch the rings, feeling along them through the insulation of his gloves. "Sebek. Thank you. Easier to see." Then he traces his finger along the ring and bends way, way over, till inches separate him from the ground and he's in dire risk of sticking his tongue to the ring if he sticks it out.
"Three rings, three weapons." He scrubs at the rings a bit and points out the rings' edges, where there are small weapon shapes. They were more difficult to see with the ice on top of them, but even now they are not obvious. "One shape each ring. See? Just need to know order. Did we enter through entrance?" he wonders aloud. "Hammer, sword, ... antiquated wooden thing, with darts. That order from where we entered." He doesn't press the shapes yet, though, shifting aside in case others want to examine and find more insight.
Damnit Ren(s)! Tamsin was a doctor, not a--, you know where this is going. Regardless of the fact that she had no experience with this sort of thing, Tamsin Cas had not been raised by a Muun for nothing, and she had learned on her father's knee. She looked, and she studied and she tried to figure it out, as she made her way down from one end of the hallway to the end closest to the door. "I wonder if the rings must be pulled in a certain order, one that matches the order of the statues. They are all identical. In how they are positioned, in how they are holding their weapons." She looked to where Tarq and Malik were examining the newly cleared door, "Or multiple times, according to how many of each statue exists."
The hallway of statues certainly does manage to pique the Kiffar's interest, even if he never was particularly good at puzzles. Brute forcing always seemed to work in a pinch, though. Most intricate, ancient machinations weren't designed with lightsabers or explosives in mind, after all. Seems Malik's got the same idea.
Stepping up to the door after Sebek's ill-fated attempt at carving into it, Syrus will slide the glove from his fleshy hand and press it against the stone. "Hoth is made up of a remarkable amount of limestone, meaning that at one point this planet was likely home to a vast amount of ocean life. These walls," he says, gesturing around them. "Limestone...but this," he notes, tapping the door. "Is something altogether different. It's not native. Someone brought this here, and...I'm assuming the same type of rock will be present beneath those statues," Syrus imagines. "Very curious."
This is decidedly not Imani's thing, but it's all interesting. The statues are studied, the door, the same, and then she's staring at a spot on the wall for a little too. There's a subtle straitening of her posture, and then a surreptitious glance around at the others before she pivots on her heel and casually moves away from the wall, back over to the door, acting as though she wasn't just staring at a crack in the ice like it mattered.
The Knights slowly uncover pieces of the puzzle: there is a round door, cut of a stone not originally from Hoth, a door which contains three, movable rings. The largest ring is the outermost, the middle the... Middlest, and the smallest at the center. Those rings appear to be patterened with weapons - the statues also hold weapons! They hold them in a pattern of three, always the same, that repeats until the door itself.
Thus ensues a bloody battle! Architecture: a foe ever-lasting, though its soldiers may crumble, against Tai Tenga. Against the heat of blood between teeth and the hiss of breath - Architecture does not fall, though its secrets become easier to uncover.
Malik surrenders the space near the rings to Tarq, and stands. He has one arm folded across his chest, hand propping up the elbow of the opposite arm, fingertips of that hand pressed peevishly to his temple. The whole posture of the pose is one of peevish exasperation, easy to read in his expression as well since the helmet is now clipped to his belt. "Imagine having all the cleverness, money, time, and resources it took to do this... and this is what you do with it," he gripes. To the group, a suggestion. "Move the rings until the pictures of the weapon shapes correspond to the position of the statues. If that doesn't work, move them however you like. If that doesn't work, we leave the fire-slug to its happy life beyond the wall, and we spend the rest of the day endeavoring to hunt tauntauns."
"The ancestors here are well versed in the art of petty irritation," hissed Sebek, who wasn't even bothering with the puzzles because honestly who has time for that sort of crap. "To defeat such, one must strike the jugular." VWOOOM. Angry red flashed against the door once more, completely dispensing with any notion of patience as he sliced and stabbed and stabbed and stttaaaaaabbbbbbbbeeeeddddddd. He was going to dig his way through this infernal maze or die trying!
"Sebek, give me a moment. Just one, then the mean stone will lie helpless before you again," Tarq says reassuringly. In a moment when he's not going to be sliced to bits by doing so, Tarq turns each ring carefully with both hands so that the order of the weapon shapes is the same as that of the caverns' statues: hammer on the outside, sword in the middle ring, ancient dart-thrower thingamajig in the smallest, center ring. Then he adjusts his feet and begins applying pressure to the rings, eyes wide as he listens and feels for anything untoward to happen. Untoward, like rocks falling, darts firing, traps of any sort being sprung. Yes, that's unlikely, but if they go off, who's pressing on the door? Tarq Najjic, who has every intention of springing aside if the consequences prove dangerous.
As soon as the three rings are aligned, there is a great rumbling as the door itself settles deeper into the wall. There is a pause... And then it rolls, slowly, aside to reveal a way deeper. A long tunnel, one that still appears to be man-made, but which slowly becomes less and less intentional.
Deeper, in the dark recesses ahead of them, there is a long, low rumbling that likely has nothing to do with the door...
There is a way forward, now, but no telling to what it leads.
Tamsin was not going to move towards the door. They did not need to all be crowded around there, as children looking through a glass window hoping to somehow manage to get the candy inside. They all appeared identical and yet...no, there must be some difference between the statues and their weapons. And then, in her reasonable doctor voice, "Sebek, if you continue to assault the door, and your castoff stone injures one of us, that is a waste of supplies that re not inexhaustible." And then, equally reasonably, "Tarq, if you would--" But what Tamsin was going to ask makes no nevermind, as Tarq gets to work and the door is soon open. There was some illumination from Sebek's lightsaber, and Tamsin moved to try to see what she could see of the way ahead.
"Oh, look...a tunnel," Syrus says, grouchily. His lightsaber is unclipped from his belt and ignited, its crimson glow illuminating his surroundings. He takes a deep breath and steps past the door. "The protector still lives," he says with the certainty of someone who can just walk into a room and know any and everyone that's in there. Space majick.
His saber sways back and forth, the Kiffar checking the walls and floors for...anything. "There's nothing here to indicate that...anybody's ever been here before," Syrus says like he's making notes for a tape recorder.
Imani isn't great at the puzzle portion of the night, so she hangs back and lets others see that through, casually keeping a watch out in case anything decides to try and creep up on them from behind. Once the door is opened, she turns to follow the others into the newly revealed passage.
The tunnel extends through the darkness; a cold so deep it bites through bone, an emptiness so vast it spans ages, and at the end of it all... Something worse. Something darker, something angry.
And something else. Something alive.
The tunnel ends and opens into... More darkness, but from what can be gathered from the glow of lightsabers and those with more genetically capable eyes, they are in a massive cavern... And then the darkness is ripped apart in an explosion of flames, liquid fire pouring from the ice above them.
In the sudden, blinding light, the scenery is briefly revealed: a cavern, strewn with the bones and gear of the lost, tossed like a seer's knuckles about a massive pillar of ice in the space's center. And then they are plunged into darkness once more, though spots of small fires provide light and heat where they caught on the degrading clothes and torches of adventurers long dead.
Andy doesn't react to this change, save to run forward and snatch a makeshift torch from the ground. "I'm going to melt through the ice, and get the artifact! Keep it busy!"
Another ROAR is accompanied by more light, and a terrifying glimpse of the dragon slug as it slams against one of the opposite walls, sending Syrus and Tamsin clattering to the ground, unharmed, but prone.
The flash of light is blinding against the darkness, searing! It's an instant one-two move to pull the helmet on again, and ignite the saber! Malik seems to perceive that his role here is to Busy the Slug Dragon, which he attempts to do by stepping right forward. "Don't die," he dryly advises Tamsin just before he steps off, "This is a damn fool errand, and we'll need you to tape everyone back together somewhere around the moment we realized we never should have done any of it." Welcome to the KOR.
The slug is busied, but not damaged, as he engages it and fails to strike a blow! He is probably distracted by that sophies choice of which ball to save in the accidental cold accident. Don't nom this or Cujo will siteban me.
"The remedy is simple. Stand clear of falling rocks," was the Falleen's melodiously snide remark.
Sebek didn't have much in the way of night vision, being a Desert Creature, but what he did have was a stranglehold around the neck of a power most mysterious, one that whispered to him in defiance of 'boi you goin get it'. Which ironically told him all he needed to know about the threat within. And there it was, belching flame and cauterising eyeballs and making the room shudder and Sebek's skin sank into the deep green of contentment. "Glorious! GLORIOUS!" Maybe this trip was worth it after all.
With all the tact and subtlety of a thrown brick, the Falleen took a running LEAP into the cavern, straight at the horrific creature that might well spell his doom. With a THUNK his talons sunk into the creature's fleshy hide and, the Force gripping him, lifted him on to its... back? Did this thing have a back? Well it must have because Sebek was on it! Holding his lightsaber aloft ready to strike, he cried forth the Falleen Song of Battle. "Come, then! Show me what passes for fury amongst your misbegotten kind!"
Tarq glances both ways at the detritus of many an adventuring party and the rocks lying around, but takes a more direct approach. Stepping closer but still keeping his distance, he holds up both hands, and as he pantomimes pulling the door off of a speeder, a section of the armor plating on the slug's head tries to lift away, until with a gross squelching, it comes mostly clear, ooze visible beneath. Then the slim man leans way back into it, leaning his body backwards, until the plate of bony armor clanks down to the rocky ground - and Tarq does the same, landing on his bony tush. "Ow," he mutters, glaring at the slug like it's all ITS fault.
There was something interesting in the room ahead, Tamsin could //feel// it. She could almost see it, in the dim light that was provided by the lightsabers, which allowed her to get some vague sense of what was calling her. She knew what she had been told it was, of course. She //had// been listening to the briefing, even if she had given the appearance of being more concerned with mother hening the Rens than preparing for the trials ahead. And while it might be that those two things were the same, now, she simply moved ahead to try to reach the thing she could feel calling her.
And then the world exploded and she was thrown off of her feet and something was trying to catch the world on fire and possibly her with it! She scrambled to her feet, though it was a tossup if she intended to run to that dark thing she felt or run away from the creature. She raised a hand, as if to shield herself, even as everyone seemed to be moving at once. But in the end, she had only words to offer as she rose to her feet, "I will do my best." To not die, yo. And to stay well back of the battle now underway. "I hope he realizes I cannot resurrect the dead," Tamsin muttered to herself as she saw Sebek take a flying leap onto the slug. Or could she? Dun dun duuuun! (spoiler alert: no)
This is twice in two days that Syrus has been thrown and he is OVER it. The Kiffar, snaps his hand out as he makes his way back to his feet, calling his saber from the ground and into his hand where it's reignited. It's held aloft in a defensive position, as if that's going to do anything against the big squishy-boi. Tarq's exposed a weak spot, and Syrus is zeroed in on it, each slash almost hitting its mark, but having to pull away as the Kiffar avoids the thrashing about.
Imani didn't imagine this trip was going to include a giant dragon slug litterally spitting fire, but here we are. There's a moment of just being impressed that this is real, that this is her life. Somehow she's still okay with her choices. She pulls the weapon free from it's place at her hip and doesn't hesitate to charge in, using the pointly tip to stab into the body of the slug with as much force as she can muster, and then repeating that move. Is it doing much? Is she just making it mad? She has no idea, but she hasn't any salt, so this will have to do.
THE FIGHT! The glorious fight! Andy is busy at the pillar of ice, periodically switching out her current burning-piece-of-whatever to melt that ice. It tries to re-freeze almost as fast as it melts, so it isn't fast work... But she is making progress.
Which is a shame, really, because otherwise she would have been able to see Sebek throw himself atop the dragon slug like a maddened lizard in the wind. She would have loved that.
The dragon slug is whipped, then, and does not like it - it flails, giving a long screech, its long, slimy, flabby body posing an immediate and deadly hazard to anyone unlucky enough to be in its path... Which is Malik.
And then it screams! Flailing dangerously as parts of its armor are wrenched away from its flesh! Slug nerves work differently from mammal nerves, but it isn't pleasant.
They are hacking, slashing, and missing this thing in the blackness, dodging flames and slimy body the best that they can when -
"GOT IT!" Andy shouts from the pillar, reaching into the gap she's made and closing her hand around their prize... A circlet, made of bone. There is something about it that chills her deeper than any night on Hoth could do, and she holds it a moment staring at it in the moments the light flashes behind her... But whatever thoughts have taken hold, she shakes her head and carefully wraps it up and places it in her bag.
And is, almost immediately after that, staring into the open, flaming maw of a dragon slug. She has just enough time to leap behind the pillar of ice before the entire thing EXPLODES in the force of the flames and gases, sending the archaeologist FLYING into the darkness and out of sight.
She's probably fine.
Malik Ren should never have taken his eyes off the fight. Rookie, rookie mistake -- he would have chided Tamsin and Tarq for such a thing, back at Spearhead on the practice mats!
But he has one weakness, seldom identified by various enemies, because they find it hard to fit within the structure of his other paradigms. These people. They mean something, and to watch one get roasted right in front of him? It's too much, that -- "TAIN!"
He should have worried less about that Mirialan and more about himself. The angry slug attacks, and Malik is violently smashed! He disappears under a crush of rocks and ice. The saber switches off, rolling across the ice to rest near Tamsin's feet.
The thing about hanging on to creatures made up of partially slime is that one's grip isn't exactly solid. Sebek was learning this now, as his talons started to come loose from the twisty thrashy slug-flesh. The Falleen was a talented climber and a picture of athleticism, but some mechanical bulls are tuned just too high. There was a way, though, and as Tei Tenga was held aloft in the air, Sebek only got one shot do not miss his chance to blow.
This opportunity comes once in a lifetime.
VWROOOM! The horrible red blade came down and into the slug's fatty hide, and as lightsabers are wont to do it served as a terrible grip. The blade did its whole cutting thing and went straight through flesh, coming out through literal fat with the beast unmarred except in annoyance, and proving to be the last resort of a desperate man.
Sebek was flung somewhere into the cavern, the distantly fading beam of red the only indicator of where he'd gone.
Priceless artifact acquired, but priceless archaeologist? Lost. Fearless leader? Also lost. Tarq swallows, staring at where Malik stood a moment ago, that is now slug and rock and who knows what else. But when jobs go wrong, sometimes there's no way out: you stick with the crew you have. He raises his hands and wrenches them, half-smiling at the slug's sounds of pain as he pries yet another chunk of armor out of it with disgusting squelches and squicks and a long, drawn out sssschlllorp. Then he tosses the armor aside. "Someone hit the open spots!" he calls. Someone? Someone else must still be out here! Tarq is looking very, very tired and he's breathing heavily, hands on his knees. "Someone."
The world was exploding all around her. Bursts of flame, screaming Knights, bucking slugs and that damned drumbeat sound in her head. You see? This was the problem with being a neophyte. When the darkness called to you, it was sometimes impossible to fight its call. The call that worked her like a puppet as she reached down to pick up the discarded lightsaber. The call that told her to //move//. Tamsin, though she could see, in the light of the lightsabers and the the flickering of the flames did not really need to see to go where she was being called, and she darted away from where she had been standing, following the Mirialan into the darkness, that tug at her soul digging in deep, as she found the downed archaeologist. And perhaps it was the truest sign of the Dark's hold on her that she ignored the downed woman completely, instead reaching into the bag to dig out the circlet, her fingers clamping down around it. And the woman who rose was no longer quite the woman who had kneeled on the ground. Gone was the logical, pragmatic doctor. Was Tamsin screaming, deep inside, somewhere in the maelstrom of anger and rage that was consuming her? Perhaps they would never know. All she knew was that this beast had taken something from her and it was going to pay. This time, when Tamsin raised her hand, it was as though as invisible fist had closed around the creature, squeezing it as one might squeeze an overripe fruit, it's body twisting and distending with the force being inflicted on it.
Malik is violently smashed (phrasing) and Syrus leaps back into action, his saber held high. His first chop sails wide as he has to leap out of the way of the bucking, cantankerous creature, but he manages to square up with it once more. Tamsin's grabbed ahold of the giant and Syrus is taking the opportunity. An upward slash rends through the carapace, sending chunks of the stony substance flying before another whack at the same place strikes true and Syrus is backing up, his blade once again intent on assuming a defensive stance.
"Well done, Tamsin."
People are getting smashed in the least pleasant way possible, and the fiyah being spat isn't musical. This is a terrible party. Imani has managed to evade damage, as when it crushes Malik it moves away from her. The worst that happens is a bit of rock conks her helmet, but the head beneath it is fine, maybe there's a scuff. She'll worry about scuffs later, for now she's focused on trying to finish murdering the slug that's given them such issue. Once agan she thrusts the point of the weapon into the beast, and then yanks it back out with a squelch. To be sure that it's dead there is one last stab, and then she steps back, looking around to what she can see in the low light. "Are we all alive?" She keeps having to ask this, but she'll keep asking it until it's her turn to be dead.
Andro is down. Malik is down. Sebek is thrown from his perch, chunks of ice crash around them, rivers of flame pour around them - this is looking bad.. But the Rens are fighting back! Sabers, whips, and telekinetic attacks batter against the armored body of the slug, even as that armor is wrenched away, and that soft body is split apart. Flames spout from its maw as liquid oozes from its wounded body - they are fighting, but more than that: they are, somehow, winning.
Whatever was left within that pillar of ice was left in a fit of rage, and a whisper of that darkness has remained - its a whisper that Tamsin wields within a scream of the Dark Side.
The dragon slug flails, smashing against rocks and wall and cavern floor... But it is fruitless. Syrus' saber rips into it, Tarq peels away its armor further, and the electric whip delivers the final blow - sending great spasms through the wounded beast until it finally lies still, movement found only in the dancing of the shadows cast against by its dying flames.
There is only one way to find out if that corpse is edible.
From the deep dark reaches of the cavern bounded a particularly grumpy lizard. Red glow of Tei Tenga bathing his way, he moved with the hunched grace of a predator who hadn't eaten in weeks. Launching into the light, he sank into the dead slug dragon beast teeth first, ripping away a huge chunk between his jaws.
There was a godawful squelching noise.
"Yes! YES! The prey falls and turns to its purpose, providing sustenance to its betters!" With a VWROOOM, Tei Tenga cut another huge flank steak out of the creature and then there was probably a willpower roll involved for all watching. Because words can't describe what you see.
You don't know what kind of parties Tarq has been to, Sebek. No willpower roll required /here/.
At the moment Tarq is holding some of that burning fluid that the slug monster spewed up with the Force, moving it as a light source. "Tamsin!" He sees Sebek run in, and follows after the creature is dead. "Tamsin?" When he finds her, next to the carcass, holding a lightsaber and wearing an obsidian crown, he freezes, more than he already was on this forsaken iceball. He lets the flaming matter drop to the floor. Her kneeling where she is is the most eerie part. "Tamsin? Are you-" He drops back on his heels. "I am Tarq Najjic. Do you remember me? Team needs you." He lifts his own stunsaber from his belt, but doesn't activate it. He instead reaches out with his hand - from fifteen feet away - and lifts the crown off her head with the Force. He stares at it warily, and he doesn't call it to his hand - instead, he tucks it, without any physical contact, into his pack. "Tamsin?" he repeats, eyeing the doctor.
It was dead. This thing that had killed what was hers. Don't ask Tamsin to explain. Because there was no place where Tamsin could find between who she was and what she was, now, with the circlet. In the scale of the universe, on the one hand, a terribly young mind, and on the other, an ancient rage that wanted only to find some avenue, some floodgate through which to vent that rage. Even as the slug fell to the power of the Force and the blades of its enemies weapons, that rage hunted, it //hungered//. And the mind inside of the maelstrom, perhaps finding some anchor raged to free itself from that terrible hunger. The battle now, was entirely internal, as Tamsin fought to gain control of herself, and the best that could be said of her success was that she managed to kneel beside Andro, as if it were instinct to reach for the downed archaeologist. 'I have to help her!' 'Forget her.' The battle raged.
And then it was torn away, all of that rage, the circlet lifted from her head and Tamsin collapsed forward, hands and wrists jolted as she flung them out to keep her from falling forward. Tarq was very skinny. His lap was not comfortable. Probably for the best she avoided ending up in it. She almost looked herself, as she looked up at her fellow Knight. "Tarq...I...I know who you are. The others?" She was mostly back. But as close as Tarq was to her, perhaps he could see it, sense it. That lingering darkness behind her eyes.
With Malik clearly dead and his rise to power complete, Syrus deactivates his saber and takes a long, slow breath before clipping it onto his belt. "This is how these things always go. The sealed doors tied to intricate puzzles should serve as more of a warning. Alas," the Kiffar muses, running a hand down his face.
"They are dying. See to them," Syrus offers to Tamsin as he turns to make his exit. And to see if he can find a hoversled in Echo Base.
Imani stows her weapon, worrying about cleaning the slime off of it later. Now that the thing is dead, she goes in search of that last place she saw Malik, and then sets to work moving any of the rocks or ice or whatever might be in the way. The especially good part about doing that is that she can't see whatever it is Sebek is doing. It sounds unpleasant, and she's not going to look.
The slug is dead, and the group is... Re-grouping. Malik and Andro will need to be carried from this place, but they are not dead. Not quite. Something darker has taken place that must be seen to before their fallen can be seen... Tarq removes the circlet from Tamsin, but before it can disappear into his pack, it crumbles into dust.
It's gone.
Whatever whisper of the Force was keeping it together in that ice, whatever shadow of rage and pain and jealousy remained - it's gone, now.
Andy is going to be in a foul mood when she wakes up. If? No, no... When. There is the gentle rise and fall of her chest, but she is battered, and there is evidence of burns where the pillar did not protect her. Malik is in a similar state, minus the burns - this endeavor did not yield the results it was expected - but the slug, as Sebek has attested, can serve as some form of sustenance... It just won't taste very good.
