Log:Knights of Ren: The Edge of Unknown I

The Knights investigate a disturbance on Kohlma.

OOC Date: November 23, 2020
Location: Kohlma
Participants: Errod Zand, Imani, Jacali, Malik Ren as Self/GM, Sebek, Syrus, Tamsin Cas, Tarq Najjic, Vandred, Knights of Ren

[Malik Ren]

The call to arms came without warning. No mission was scheduled or expected; nothing was planned or announced ahead of time. The only warning the Knights got was a comm from Malik, asking that everyone currently on-station board the Night Buzzard immediately.

Ah, the faithful Night Buzzard! Rescued from Hoth, the ship has been repaired, and some updates made in the form of basic medical supplies and station where there were once a few cells. Not to worry, of course... there are still more cells, for prisoners or unruly Knights.

Malik has been sparse with the information regarding where they're going or why, and the coordinates in the ship's navicomputer are for nowhere familiar. The only explanation provided has been, "There are grave robbers on Kohlma. They're either there now, or they will be soon."

It doesn't take the Force to feel misgivings about the planet, as soon as the ship begins its descent to a barren, hellish landscape dotted with ominous, frightening ruins in various states of decrepitude. Exiting the ship, Malik acts as though he's been here before, and has given no time to linger through the labyrinths of old domes and monasteries.

"Be cautious. This is an evil place," he warns, and considering that they themselves are arguably pretty evil people, that's probably saying something.

In the distance, the ruins seem to be giving way to a horrible smell, and it is that way that they are headed.

[Tamsin Cas]

Tamsin, who had been spending most of her time on station, in the wake of the return from Hoth, had taken a rare trip on the shuttle. She had only just returned and had been about to return to her work in medical when the call came for Knights to assemble. Had she been in the midst of a particularly interesting bit of research, she might have protested, but...no, even then she would have set it aside and done as she had done, which was to make her way to the newly repaired ship. Had she questioned where they were going? No. Not once. Instead, she had spent the time on the flight making certain that the medical area was prepared to her satisfaction. And when the ship had set down, she stepped out of it and fell into line with the rest of the knights. "I've no knowledge of this place. Was I supposed to?" That was made in general query to whomever might be close enough to hear her.

[Vandred]

Vandred's tone is that as always - probably even a bit weirder considering their environment. He's jovial, polite, overly cheerful. One can positively feel the smile from behind his helmet - which has been given an upgrade as to how fastened it is upon this suit of armour. A few buckles and latches attached to ensure that it does not come off - even if the rest of him decides to make a few adjustments. "Oh, grave robbing is a capital punishment on the majority of planets. Even those planets that have rather lax laws." Spoken like a positive weather update. In other news, the rain has stopped.

As they land, Vandred makes little time in staying aboard. There's no rituals, no meditation. He's one of the non-Force Users. Instead he spent the majority of the trip nestled comfortably into a corner, unwinding himself to his full height only as people leave.

"Oh, absolutely. I'd recommend we set up locator beacons. Just in case!"

His E-11 is armed and primed all the same.

[Tarq Najjic]

Trudging behind Malik with a dour expression that might be better suited to Errod is the team's Kuati thief, whose eyes are bloodshot. He fell asleep a few times on the way over, but popped a pill before exiting the Night Buzzard. Since then he has been alert, though it has done nothing to soothe the ill mood from being awakened unexpectedly. "Tarq Najjic has never smelled worse without wearing protection," he says. "Caustic. Acerbic." Still, he has his eyes open and is looking around in between watching his steps. "What artifacts are worth stealing here?" Why is he sure these are artifacts? Because this place is a /dump/. Also the scans from orbit, but mostly because it's a dump.

[Syrus]

"Somehow more accommodating than Hoth," remarks Syrus as he walks along with the Knights. Though, he doesn't seem too upset that they aren't being allowed to stop and inspect all of the ruins along their path. Some secrets are better left to the past.

"I've never heard of Kohlma, either," Syrus offers to Tamsin, as if that's an indicator that it's okay for her not to know anything about it.

[Sebek]

"Evil is but conceptual. To be evil is to merely be disagreed with. From the opinion of the Jeedai, we are evil, but we merely fulfill our purposes." It was a strange slide into the philosophical nihilism that defined He Who Cares for Sebek of the Desert, but it still dripped with that oozy self-righteousness that accompanied his endless wells of pride. "It is the fault of the Jeedai that their purpose conflicts with ours. It is thus that, to us, they are evil."

Following on near the rear of the Knights of Ren, Sebek was clad once more entirely in his Raim, bearing forth the helm of the snarling beast, topknot sticking out akin to a warrior of eld. In his hands, idle and at rest but humming with hunger, was Tei Tenga. "The odour is that of the hissing pits of the Northern Seas, rich in sand and sulphur. For us to crinkle our olfactory senses, Those Who Steal must be brave indeed."

[Jacali]

Jacali is much less jovial than Vandred.

She's here, but it's clear that she would rather be back at the base working on whatever new theories she has brewing. She doesn't say anything as they trudge onward, she didn't say anything on the way over, either. No, as ever, she simply has her attentions leveled at the datapad in her hand as her droids dutifully follow her along with her e-web in tow. She might be listening to the others speaking, but it's hard to say. She remains near to Vandred, on the off chance that something makes someone go crazy, resulting in someone that will remain nameless being shot in the face again.

There's a brief hesitation to her step when Malik mentions that the place is 'evil', her chin lifting just slightly. "This... -place- is evil?" She questions, helmeted head turned Malik's direction as she strides along just vaguely behind the bounty hunter.

[Errod Zand]

Don't be absurd; the Knights of Ren are the last hope for the only right cause in the galaxy. Errod Zand, bastion of everything good about regrettably remaining alive, paces down onto the scarred earth in Malik's wake, his plain-faced helmet held in the crook of his arm.

"This place exists out of time," he rasps, wild eyes staring out at the landscape, the boiling, sulfuric stench of the creek wrinkling his nose. "A glimpse into that state where all worlds have their terminus. Once they spin out to the edge of the galaxy, before the last dying coal loses its heat." He shakes his head, habitually checking his body for equipment in the expected places with one hand.

"I've said it before, but it bears repeating. Anyone who lingers in these cosmic doldrums, where life and energy fade away, is not to be trusted. Hollow spirits. A facsimile of a true being with the animus stripped away. An emptiness that seeps in from the soles of the feet from the soil." A glance is cast towards Jacali. "What other name could such a place have?"

[Imani]

Imani was on base and eager to jump back into action at the call, and was on ship as fast as she possibly could. Information was sparse, but she's a committed soldier to the cause and she doesn't dig. They point and she chops, that's what she's here for. When they arrive, the ray of sunshine knight can't miss the energy of the place, though with her helmet the rare frown can't be seen. Errod moves and she strides alongside him, head turning to survey the place. "You see places like this in holofilms, but you think they can't truly exist out here in reality. Then you meet a bunch of space wizards, and surprise, they're real."

[Malik Ren]

"Kohlma was once under the jurisdiction of a Dark Jedi, a creature named Vosa," Malik explains as they walk. He's said 'dark Jedi' and not 'Sith' which is unusual for him; he is precise about his terms under most Force related circumstances, and whatever this Vosa was, it is apparently not one of his hated Sith. Something else. Something different. Worse? Better? If their surroundings are any indication, the likely interpretation is Just As Bad.

"Her followers have persisted here for years," Malik continues, "And were a plague to us when the Knights came here under Kylo Ren. While they are not technically the living dead... perhaps they might as well be." Reassuring! "I don't know what there is left here worth stealing. I do know that whatever someone feels the need to take, we can guarantee we don't want them to have it. Nothing from Kohlma should escape into the larger galaxy, and no good would come of that if they managed it."

To Jacali's question, Malik confirms without a hint of irony, "This place is evil." He elaborates, "There are more phenomena in this galaxy than are imagined in science alone, Doctor... as you've come to discover. A place like Kohlma, Dathomir, or Dromund Kaas..." he gestures around them. "These places are steeped in centuries or more of dark power and the intent of those who wield it. It permeates everything -- cruelty, anger, fear and hate." Malik's expression cannot be read behind his helmet, but the pause he allows Errod suggests he doesn't disagree with the man. "Even the stones themselves may rise against you, here. Trust nothing. We are trespassing where we are unwelcome."

The ruins give way to.... the boiling graveyard. Beware! Bubbling stench waters flood the land ahead of them, a horrible, permeating sulfuric smell that even masks can't completely filter. Some spots seem to just be warm, others boiling vigorously; some water is clear, and in other places, an oily black tar promises entrapment with each gloppy, slow, bubble-burst. Vision is obscured by mephitic fog, and crumbling tombs and grave markers. There are some little islands of stones, some patches of dry land, some tombstones or crypts that can be clambered over, but at every step, one risks a fall.

"They're here somewhere. Here already. Bloody hell," Malik curses. "Search the graveyard." This can only be done by hopping along on the available stepping stones, such as they are. Don't fall in!

[Tamsin Cas]

"Why," was Tamsin's simple question, as they made their way into the Bog of Evil Eternal Stench, "If this place was so dangerous, and anything within it also so dangerous, was no effort made to destroy it?" because that was a logical question, wasn't it? Once the order came to search, Tamsin moved away from the group, an unconscious muscle bringing the membrane that normally lay hidden beneath her lids to cover her eyes, protecting her eyes from the noxious fumes and anything which might wish to damage her eyesight. She almost took a jump and them stopped. In a movement that was reminiscent of a lady of quality attempting to protect her skirts from the detritus and spoilage on the streets of old, she took the time to tuck up the skirts of her robes, just in case. Not to worry, she was wearing both pants and high boots. No need to cover your eyes to preserve her modesty. And then she began to try to pick her way, hopping from rock to rock.

[Vandred]

"Such a strange concept you people have of things. Why not give it a hundred years, come back, and see if you still see it like that?" Vandred offers. Still, his tone cheerful. He doesn't look like he's going to get into some theological debate however, taking the explanation as is. He moves forwards, shaking and loosening himself up as he watches the gloop and glop of the bubbling tar bog below. He comes to the edge of the first stone, letting the mixture fog over his visor until precipitation starts dribbling down. He leans back. He sniffs a few times.

"Reminds me faintly of home. A little more acidic in scent. How painfully nostalgic."

He lurches forwards, pushing off with his right leg. The place weighs down on him, and there's a scramble as his foot hits something more slippy than dry. His arm reaches out, digs into ground, and then goes rigid. There's the faint 'pop' as joints lock, and he holds that there until he hooks his right leg up by the heel - then promptly clambers up his own leg with his arm, until he's up and rising. He adjusts his shoulders, then promptly starts leaping, using his left arm as a third limb, crouched forwards so it assists him in propelling forwards. "Careful now! There's quite a few slippy bits! Just aim for the palm-prints if you're wondering about stable spots please, Doctor."

Oh. And for those with a HUD, he leaves little map points, so very helpful.

[Tarq Najjic]

There are numerous kinds of thieves. Everyone needs high tech to get the best jobs done, but some specialize in that. Then there are those who rely on their flexibility, precision, strength, and grace to bypass security, avoid getting shot, and reach where they shouldn't. Tarq's occasional losing battles with the cafeteria caf machine have made it clear he's not the first.

His casual somersault to another grouping of grave markers over tombs is evidence that the neophyte Force user was definitely the second.

He picks his way among the rocks, eyes scanning the ground and the lay of the land ahead of him. He has no answer for Tamsin's question. Maybe it's just above his pay grade.

[Syrus]

"I may have spoken too soon," Syrus says as the approach the smelly, bubbling place. He brethes a sigh and begins to hop along the stepping stones, his long legs making the process easy enough. "Now...how exactly do we know that there are grave robbers here?" Syrus asks, steadying himself by crouching down a bit after he nearly goes tubmling over the side. Another leap and he's safe and sound.

[Sebek]

The problem with hopping around like amphibians is that Sebek was a desert creature. The mainline Falleen from the Throne Wetlands would have no trouble bounding from rock to rock like an intergalactic game of Frogger. Alas, as a desert creature, dry land was his home.

Sebek should have remembered this when his pride demanded he be the best.

On the last rock, the last ledge, his foot slipped. His agility and flexibility would have gotten him out of it, but no. For perhaps He Who Cares was right, and that the horrible power that had chosen not to obey He Who Hunts on this day was a crutch. His boot did not adhere. He did not bend. And, like all of his compatriots at one point or another, he Fell.

Except somewhat more literally.

Sebek of the Desert, Flagbearer of Coret, Conqueror of the Sixteenth Deck, Consumer of Hounds, Wielder of Tei Tenga, He Who Hunts was swallowed whole by the bog, his fate unknown.

[Jacali]

"... Fascinating ..."

That word never means anything good when it comes from Jacali -- unfortunate, given how often it's uttered. Her fingers tap away at her datapad, informations stowed away for more indepth consideration at a time where floating stones won't be able to eat her for reasons beyond her comprehension. Perhaps it's that her distracted self simply doesn't see what's below her feet, or maybe the malice of this place has already begun, nut it's just as she's telling Vandred, "I do not need your warni--" that she very nearly 'eats shit', as it was stated. She stumbles, staggering forward before 'artfully' catching herself and shuffling forward rapidly until she straightens.

Dignified.

She meant to do that.

"... I am more than capable of traversing difficult terrains." Clearly. "But, for now, I suppose I will humour you." How generous.

And then? Then Sebek has falleen, and not only can he not get up, but he seems to be missing... in some fetid, reeking bog.

She pauses for a few long moments to stare toward the bog, before a soft 'tsk' is given and her attentions return to her datapad.

[Errod Zand]

"Same reason a man sharpens the end of a stick. Same reason he buys a blaster and hides it under his pillow. Same reason he builds a weapon that can blow up a planet," Errod answers Tamsin's question in his usual gritty baritone, a grating affair with an equally grating note of unmoving conviction. "Evil is a tool. A good being, if such a concept can exist, might destroy it. A prudent one might lock it away, never speak of it, remember it only in whispers of memory."

His diatribe pauses as he leaps over the spot Sebek face-planted into, nearly sliding back into the muck himself but managing to scrabble up onto more solid ground. Then he turns and regards the bubbles rising with a sort of conflicted look, lips twisting awkwardly, as if discovering gum on the sole of his boot and fretting over whether it's worth peeling it off or not.

"Evil is never destroyed. One stick put down, another lifted. Better to have and guard yours jealously than snap it in a fit of righteous fury." A sigh, then, and he looks to the others. "Rope? He'll surface eventually."

[Imani]

"Somehow this smells worse than we did on the last days of Hoth," Imani shares as she crinkles her nose against the odor invading her helmet. That was a bad smell, this is something else. A pause follows while she studies the stones to choose from as a way across, then adds, "It could be worse." And it could, she could fall into the boiling bog with the slippery stones, and then she'd bring that smell home with her too.

Not wanting to do that she carefully picks her way across the stones, managing to make it without even much of a wobble, relieved sigh escaping as soon as her feet are back solid land. "I made it!" She turns, quite pleased, and finds that not everyone did. "Can one of you just..." She makes mysterious waving hands with her gestures at the direction of the bog, maybe meant to indicate the telekinetic ability some of them have.

[Malik Ren]

"This place has been the same for the last hundred years, and will be the same for the next hundred. Perhaps we should have glassed it from orbit, useful tool or not. Perhaps we still ca-- AH," Malik was in the middle of answering Tamsin, when he discovered the crypt upon which he'd jumped suddenly gave way beneath his feet! Quick scramble to avoid a fall, and he's back in business. "This is not the only site on the planet, however, nor in the galaxy. Our firepower could destroy some of it, but not all... and this sort of place, this power, has a way of persisting."

Syrus asks a very reasonable question about how they know there are grave-robbers here, and Malik answers, "I saw it in a vision." That's either totally reasonable or totally unreasonable, depending on the paradigms in which one operates.

Carefully picking his way through the muck and the mists, Malik is trying to make his way forward, but pauses to whirl around in alarm as suddenly there is a suspiciously loud PLORP and then dead silence that is notably not filled with self-aggrandizing.

"....He's Falleen in the bog. Lovely."

[Tamsin Cas]

"Well, what does that say of us, then, Errod Zand? As we are here seeking for grave robbers. Clearly this place was not as 'shut away' as had been hoped." Tamsin, who was still trying to pick her way through the bubbling bog, kept her eyes down as she searched for well, signs of anything that might move them out and away from this place. She looked towards where she could hear Malik's voice, focusing on him as he course corrected, "We cannot destroy all, but it bears considering, if such a palce holds dangers which might be used against us." Tamsin was soon dragged away from any other reply she might have made by the seeming loss of one of their number. Too many distractions, but she stopped long enough to try to see if she could find where people's attention seemed to be focused.

[Vandred]

Vandred leaves Sebek to his fate. Or, more precisely, Vandred has a standard contract that has a few subsections. Sebek isn't written in there, and well, there's far more powerful people around to save Sebek from the bog. "Oh dear!" Is Vandred's addition to the discussion about Sebek, as he comes to a stop. Blink, blink. He lowers, head scanning. Nostrils flare as he huffs in unfiltered air for a moment. Yep. That's a bog alright.

It's then that his eyes catch momentary movement, and the Hunter moves out of sight as he tracks after it.

It doesn't take long for the comms to crackle as Vandred's voice cuts through. <"Hello! Sorry to interrupt, but if you might align yourselves to a westward position --"> A map pin appears in the HUD. <"-- I believe the targets specified for the contract are located at this position. At least some of them.">

[Tarq Najjic]

That last 'slorp' was weightier, heavier. Tarq looks up from where he was glancing in urns and checking behind headstones, his search availing him nought. He does a quick head-count, eyes flicking from Knight to Knight. They're definitely missing someone, but whom? There's an eyeliner shortage among the Knights, but Malik is still standing right there making species puns. That leaves: "Sebek?" He has no HUD. He has only the Force! He activates his stunsaber when he hears Vandred. Malik is staring at that bog. He wouldn't let Sebek drown, right? Right?

Having thus failed to reassure himself, he turns to try to track where Vandred went, crouching down to minimize the target profile he presents. "Which way did he go?" he hisses.

[Syrus]

"I see," Syrus responds to Malik, nodding to the man. Seems like that answer's good enough for him, at least. The Kiffar pauses on top of the tomb he's standing on and looks out to the East, like a kath hound with a whiff of its pray. "The Force shifts. It's in disarray. Something is wading its way through it," Syrus says, seemingly not even noticing that Sebek just died. What a shame, really.

[Sebek]

The bog bubbled. The bog burbled. The bog hissed and murmured and spoke thoughts of danger and doom. The bog's temper rose. It flared. The bog grew angry. The fury rose as the bog splashed, heaved, imitating He Who Shifts at his worst as it undulated menacingly. Tension built, the surface quivered, and all went still.

Then it exploded.

Lashings of power tore from the depths as horrific bog-juices went everywhere, on to every nearby exposed surface. Anger, pride, and unrelenting fury radiated from the patch of dry land deep within the maelstrom, where stood a helmetless, beet red, and VERY VERY ANGRY Falleen steeped almost impressively in the Dark Side. "FIE UPON YOU, FOUL SURFACE OF KOHLMA!" erupted the Knight of Ren, steeped deep in his own fury, clutching Tei Tenga like a madman. It looked like cutting the bog away hadn't worked too well. "BEHOLD YOUR DEFEAT!"

Bog waters being thick and viscous, one heavy footfall was all it took to get him out of where the liquids would soom recede. Sebek was Not A Happy Chappy. He was covered in goop everywhere but the head (his helmet instead suffering that blow) and his skin was a pulsing, deep red of unrestrained anger. "Let us slay some infidels so that we may feel better!"

[Jacali]

Jacali hates life more with every passing moment.

[Errod Zand]

Tamsin poses a legitimate question, but it falls on deaf ears as Errod appears to have totally spaced out, staring off into the boiling marsh even as Sebek comes shrieking back into existence. If his eyes were to bulge any further from their sockets, they might be at risk of falling from his head. Without a word, he abruptly starts walking off towards whatever he's looking at, muttering one word under his breath, a question. "Makani?"

As the others watch, or don't, he slogs into the roiling, stinking bracken, clambers onto a tuft of lichen, and leaps intently into the fen beyond, vanishing out of existence like he always promised to.

[Imani]

Imani is already retreating from the edge of the bog to put some distance between the smell, and also what she assumes may end up being the splash zone should someone fish Sebek out. Or should he fish himself out. However it happens, this is the splash zone and she wants no part of i-- there's not enough time, and not enough distance. A small sound of dismay follows the splat that hits her, standing there with smelly, oily bog water dripping off of her.

She gives both hands a sharp shake to dislodge some of the more clingy bits from her hands and arms, then turns. It's fine, this is time. It could be worse. At least they're not freezing to death, right?This is what she tells herself as she turns away from the collective and starts looking off in the distance.

First there's what Vandred points out, seeing it on the HUD as she shares it, then she targets something else on it and does the same. "Ah. We have something else incoming over there." And just to help those without the HUD, she points in the direction of things crawling up out of a crypt. "I don't know what I'm looking at. They look... humanish?" Which could apply to others here, but she's pointing off in the distance.

[Malik Ren]

Sebek explodes out of the bog! They can take his helmet but they can never take his FREEDOM! Flying bog glop, hot and tarry and awful, liberally coats everyone, everywhere, and even those who were so careful not to get stuck in the muck have now had their days and outfits ruined. But at least Sebek is alive! That's a plus right? Right? Ok, don't everybody answer at once.

"I don't like the sense of what lies to the North or the East," Malik decides after reviewing the input from Syrus, Imani, and Vandred, though he sounds a bit uncertain. "I think trouble awaits us there, beyond that which we came for... though if any of you wish to investigate, if you feel it would be worthwhile, I won't stop you."

Ah, but then new problems erupt -- they've just got Sebek back, and then there goes Errod. "Makani is dead, you fool," Malik protests. "She is beyond your reach, beyond that of any of us. Errod, /no/, don't --!" Ah but this warning is to be shortly cut off as the same mysterious force seems to distract him, helmeted gaze snapping hard to one side. "YOU," he growls, and lashes out telekinetically at a human shaped statue -- it had features once, shrouded by its carved hooded cowl, but they've been eaten away by time and acid. The thing snaps, and he holds it down as if to drown it, trudging several steps forward, and knee deep in the bog before he realizes what's going on. Disoriented, he pauses there.

To the West, Vandred's enemies can be seen: It's an excavation, set up with lights, and figures moving about on temporary, hasty boardwalks. Large machines hum, pumping the bog away from their desired area, and humanoid figures in hazard-gear are trying to retrieve something from the depths. The humming of the machines may aid an ambush, but the Knights would still have to move carefully.

[Tamsin Cas]

If there was such a thing as a Wet Robes contest, Tamsin would surely be up for the winner in the competition as a veritable //wave// of bog water splashed over her. A tsunami of awful, which, she neither had time to avoid or inclination, as she seemed to do little more than turn her head to avoid it getting in her eyes, and twist to avoid contaminating her medical supplies. Of course, when she finally straightened, it was now possible to see just how she might look if she had black, straggling hair trying to drip into her eyes and not her usual multi-toned sunny blonde. It was not a good look, even if it did, as a bonus, make her look slightly more 'Dark Side Chic' than she normally did. "This isn't work! We can't all just keep running off looking to make our own way! We need to stick together!" And then Malik was off desecrating a grave and Tamsin tried to get over to where he was, "It's dead, leave it!" And then Malik was, and hey were at least close enough to see what they had come for. She frowned, looking over at the work being done, as if trying to weight her options.

[Vandred]

His form squirming forwards for a better vantage, Vandred pauses to recalibrate his optics, layering another set of flags over previously known locations - with variations for relative levels of height and distance. How incredibly thorough.

He is not thorough enough in finding a way to sneak forwards however, as he catches his knee in a small dip that most definitely was -not- there before. This does not bode well for him however, as he immediately adjusts to avoiding damage to limb or joint, and audibly his light armour clatters as he turns it into a hard, loud roll forwards. <"Whoops! Silly me. No harm done. Please note that there will be incoming fire on melee combatants. Thanks!">

[Tarq Najjic]

The Force is with Tarq, for as Sebek emerges from the ooze by displacing the ooze skyward, the Kuati turns his back on the Falleen. Swamp coats him liberally regardless, but his face is clear, though his cloak is /coated/ with dark filth. He flicks a hand, swamp juice running off it. This is a win, though. Not on his face!

Finally Tarq is headed in the right direction. He moves in that deceptively awkward-looking half-crouch meant to provide a compromise between stealth and speed, deactivating his stunsaber to have less ambient light. Each place he sets each foot has received attention and been deemed eight-out-of-ten, solid. So when his left foot starts to sink, he looks back down in surprise and carefully lifts it. That was a rock. How is it now goop thick enough to lose a boot?

He does not lose the boot, but it takes some effort. "No, that's mine!" comes the argument, loud enough to ruin any possibility that Tarq himself would reach the camp unmarked. After a few more disgusting schlorps, Tarq emerges back onto the path - the path he never left, honestly! - with muck on his boot and some muck on his right cheek. He is unamused. The path to anger and righteous hate has never been so straight: he's here because of THEM.

[Syrus]

Syrus is not good at Telekinesis. It's never been his thing. Honestly, most sorcery is beyond him. Thankfully, on this planet he has an excuse. Dark side interference, he'll claim in explanation as to why a plume of kinetic energy exploded from his hand and only served to make a chunk of the bog splatter away from him.

Frowning, he'll reach for his saber and begin his march forward.

[Sebek]

It is said that discretion is the better part of valour. Discretion, unfortunately, had come up against a glowering red-skinned Falleen involuntarily pumping out enough rage pheromones to hotbox a holding cell. Noting the lack of wisdom involved in going toe-to-toe with a literal murder lizard, discretion opted to remain silent.

Small soliloquy on the nature of wisdom aside, Sebek demonstrated exactly none of it when he took the Anakin Skywalker approach to problem-solving. "MEATSACKS!" he erupted, going from zero to sixty in half a second in momentum (if not in personality, someone had jammed the throttle open and broken the lever on that front). He crossed the distance at blinding speed, the horrible red blade of Tei Tenga bursting angrily into existence.

What came next definitely put the High Impact Violence context descriptor on this scene's ESRB.

[Jacali]

There's a visible, jerking flinch as the bog is sent in a spray of filth, pattering over her armoured robes in patterns that she could certainly analyse for days ... were it not for the fact that the warp is overtaking her at this most greivous offense.

This place is really starting to chafe her tits.

Jacali watches as Errod flings himself into the swamp, her head tilting to one side. She clearly hasn't seen anything that should inspire anyone to throw themselves into the murky Everbogs of Kohlma, but to each their own. Every time she goes on these little adventures, she finds more reasons to lose all faith in those that she currently finds herself allied with.

She heaves a sigh, listening to Vandred as he relays his reports, taking into consideration Malik's direction, and begins to move in a direction that allows for her to get the best possible vantage to assist without, y'know, having to -actively- assist. In fact, she's so far removed from helping anyone here that it's her -droid- that has to set up the weaponry, after the -other- droid has surveyed the surrounding area and determined that this is, in fact, the best spot for her to lay down heavy arms fire when needed.

There's a sigh, and then her voice is heard over comms.

<"Go ahead.">

Who she's talking to is anybody's guess.

[Errod Zand]

Where Sebek burst from the bog, Errod oozes up to the surface, his head breaking the surface as he tips his face back to the sky, a shuddering, wet gulp of air passing his lips followed by a retching spit of brackish water that partially lands back on him. He floats in the bubbling sauna, considering for a moment whether to simply breathe out everything and sink.

He pushes out a long breath, closes his eyes.

And breathes again, pushing a weary hand out towards the shore. Progress is slow, and in the exciting moments the others spend charging into furious battle, Errod kicks doggedly through the slog. Grasping claws squelch into firmer muck as he wriggles forth, rolling over on his back to stare at the bleak sky. Then he chokes, spits, staggers to his feet, unshackling the chainwhip from his back and flicking the switch as rivulets of plasma sizzle the water away. He stares down at the activator for a moment, thumb worrying at the switch, but he shakes his head, soggy ponytail dripping hot filth, and slouches forward on squishy boots.

[Imani]

One last glance is sent around to the rest of the group before Imani turns to make a mad dash in the same direction Sebek is sprinting. Like him she isn't going for the snek, she isn't hiding her approach. Maybe she should, it might get her shot less, but it's a lesson she hasn't been shot enough to learn yet because she's rushing into the fight. Somehow she makes it all the way to these tomb raiders, and wastes no time in rushing at the nearest, hammering home a couple of hits in quick succession.

[Malik Ren]

The fight is joined! Chaos erupts as the Knights begin to attack, and the excavation is thrown into disarray! Sharp eyes will spot that the insignia on the gear of these grave-robbers is the same as that of the base on Hoth. This is Nightfall, still their thorn, now engaged in who knows what other mischief and misdeeds. They're supposed to be nothing more than smugglers and terrorists who arm Republic sympathizers... what are they doing tomb-raiding an evil Force planet? Are these escapees from the initial moments of the Hoth assault, or does Nightfall exist around the galaxy as a more systemic cancer?

All of them begin shouting at once as the attack begins!

"Force help us, it's the Knights!" "How did they find us?" "They're everywhere, I can't -- AAGGHHHH!" "Run! Abandon the dig and and save -- AAGGHGHGHGHGHHH!"

The Leaders of the Nightfall dig, however, seem to have a bigger picture in mind than their own survival -- or perhaps they know that their own survival is doomed no matter what. Several at once fire on their own pumping equipment, and slowly but surely, the dig begins to fill with bog, hiding what was beneath.

[Tamsin Cas]

Tamsin had, once again, for the record, forgotten that she //had// actually been given a force wiffle bat along with her allotment of robes and her super secret dark knight handshake and pog token, and it remained firmly clipped to her belt. She had no desire t rush into battle, no, instead she looked for ways she could lessen the threat that was posing the knights. Her right hand rose, looking ever so dangerous, before she used it to rake her hair back out of her eyes, the left flicking fingers towards where some of the Nightfall goons were trying to make their escape. No, that would simply not do, and a wave of unseen force blew in their direction. If she was very lucky, perhaps it would send a few of them into the bog.

[Vandred]

Vandred finishes rolling.

It's not really dramatic - he just rises up to one knee and comes out of the motion with a slight lurch. He adjusts, lifting his E-11 rifle up to his shoulder. He adjusts, blinks once, exhales, and starts pulling on the trigger.

The first bolt cuts through one at the torso, leaving a blackened wound as the figure topples over. The second one is shot in the stomach, put down. <"That's two. Please be aware that I've left one alive for the Doctor. Please do not kill it offhandedly, I'd greatly appreciate it. Thanks!"> Comes crackling over the comms. You know. You always want to make sure your employer gives you a satisfactory review.

[Tarq Najjic]

Tarq resumes his advance, stealth abandoned, but he sees something the others don't. "You have nerve. Is this place so dark, that it brings forth all dead?" The Knightly raiders move on, leaving the lost Tarq behind to talk. "Enough. Tarq Najjic is busy working." And a gravestone comes sailing up and through empty air, crumbling with the impact into the ground beyond. The Kuati nods, and then looks around. Everyone he doesn't recognize is dead!

"What prize did you hide, foul planet?" he mutters as looks down at where the swill refills the dig site, crouching on his heels.

[Syrus]

With his long, slow, plodding walk complete, Syrus has closed the distance between himself and the folks that look the most 'in-charge'. "There are secrets here that no eyes should fall upon, least of all your own. The pleasure I am about to feel is tied exclusively to the preservation of ancient knowledge, I assure you," he explains to them, working with them to accept why he's doing what he's doing. What he's doing is chopping them into smoldering chunks of flesh.

[Sebek]

Fresh off caving in the skull of a raider in with the menacing flanged pommel of Tei Tenga (for when you really needed that tactile fulfillment), Sebek turned to assess the battle. He had been joined by She Who Slaughters (yay!) and He Who Rises (muted yay!) and through the merry slaughter rained upon all by the Knights of Ren, found one last man standing.

It didn't last long.

The saber going straight through the man's chest was enough. Kicking him off the blade and into the bog to, "drown, He Who Drowns," was straight up redundant. Had cooler heads prevailed, namely, anyone but Sebek, maybe he would have been left alive as requested.

[Jacali]

It's a wonder why she uses this blasted thing.

It's certain she's never hit a single thing with it.

That said, when Jacali squeezes that trigger, my GOODNESS, the show it puts on! That wretched howl of crimson streak bolt, the rancid earth that it kicks up upon its most violent impact -- truly, a sight to behold. It's enough to give many foes pause, even with it cratering the ground at their feet, rather than putting a cavity in their chests. At least, a well placed distraction.

The doctor stands looking down at the field of battle, lips pressing to a tight line as she hears Vandred's voice over comms. <"I've no need of your leavings, I'm no dog sniffing about at the table waiting for something to drop."> She informs, <"Kill them. Pride has no place here.">

[Errod Zand]

Baptized in the sulphuric muck of Kohlma, Errod stalks forward, the chain-whip held firmly in one gloved hand, the sharpened stick he's taken up against a world of wrongs. His own private evil, kept so close it never seems to leave its place on his back, weighing him down at all times and in all places. As he advances now, towards the shambling wraiths, coming towards him with their herky, jerky gait, it seems light as a feather.

As he reaches them, they move to surround him, skittering limbs, bending and twisting in unnatural, improbable postures, alien bodies pulling alien poses while the man with his blade remains all too human a vision. As the spiked tip darts forward with the same practised speed and precision, the phantasmic figure it skewers twists and jerks, falls away, and crumbles as if to dust. The blade whirls on, carried by momentum as if it had encountered nothing, and Errod spins to slice another, but again finds himself moving straight through, a monster more real than those he's facing. Wide eyes stare incredulously around him, shoulders heaving, body steaming, a prickling at the back of his neck.

[Imani]

The raiders of the tombs are gone, at least so far as Imani can see, and so she lowers her weapon slightly, just starting to glance around at what they may have been after. But wait. The sound and flash of the E-Web pulls her from the beginning stage of this search and focuses her on new targets. Wraiths! Weird creepy-crawley definitely not Vandred's family targets. One slash of her chain-whip is driven right through where the thing was, and brings with it a perplexed pause. She hasn't time to sort out what happened just now, and so she slashes at a second, and with that comes the same result. POOF. Up into smoke, or dust, something just as insubstantial. "Errod?" she asks, turning to the recently emerged swamp thing. "They just vanish on you too?"

[Malik Ren]

The waters(?) of the bog are stained red with the blood of the unfortunate Nightfall expedition, and even while the last remaining members bleed out from savage blows, saber wounds, and crushed skulls, something new creeps in from the north -- hideous wraithlike figures, humanoid but wrong. They move like animals, with elbows and knees drawn out at angles too severe, hands grasping where a human would think again. Their eyes glow, and their heads twitch sharply once, again, again, again, always jerking to the left only.

The things approach despite the cover-fire of Jacali's E-Web, where any natural creature would think twice. Imani and Errod dispatch them easily... too easily, like wisps of nightmare chased off to return the next night.

Malik Ren surveys the carnage, and if he was thinking they should have left somebody alive to question, he doesn't voice the thought. Instead, his attention seems focused on the boggy water where the dig was, now filled in since the pumps have broken.

"I want what they came for. Whatever it is, it's still down there."

[Vandred]

<"Hello! I found a journal. Please see info upload.">

The Journal - taken and scanned by Vandred's HUD - provides some vague information regarding a map. The map being some physical object not of the normal form of some paper or normal star chart. Beyond that, it's a little bit too vague. Something something holocron something something.

The info upload clips out as Vandred walks up to the man he shot. Over the comms comes a static <"Hello! Sorry to leave you like this. I'll take care of that now. Goodbye!>"

The sound of a blaster bolt.

<"Going back to the ship. Bye!">

[Tamsin Cas]

Tamsin, who stepped forward, now that the enemy seemed to have been eliminated. She had not, sadly, seem the wraiths and so, perhaps she was lucky not to be aware of that threat. There //was// something down there, but what it was...she did not know. None of them did, and so...how could she grasp it? Draw it? Will it to her hand? She could not. And she felt the power inside of her seeking, like a lost child in the dark, unable to find its way back to the light.

[Syrus]

"Malik, I insist that you take us somewhere nicer next time," Syrus says, kicking a chunk of one of Nightfall's leaders out of his way as he wanders closer to the end of the pier. Reaching out with his still sorta-fleshy hand, Syrus concentrates on the water. His acuity with moving water holds true, as a steady stream of it begins to pour off into a nearby basin.

[Sebek]

Power moves strangely on this planet. What had once fueled and ignited Sebek in a burst of fury was now, with his wits more about him, slipping strangely to the left. It was said that water was anathema to magic, far too slippery to grasp, and far too effective at washing off. And thus the truth was beheld, as Sebek's mind dove into the bog to ascertain and obtain their purpose, his grip was pushed about by invisible currents of darkness. "Fetid liquids," he hissed, digging around ineffectually for nothing. "For purposes clash and wills match, we must prove our will is greater than the planet that seeks us gone."

[Tarq Najjic]

Tarq holds his hands up before him, fingers outstretched, and begins to pull, as though moving a box along the ground towards himself. Then the hand locks. His eyes close as he stands steady, unmoving, for once undistracted by the darkness of this terrible place, and the sound of dirty, oozing swamp water flowing back and into the dirt and muck surrounding this hole, this dig that Nightfall deemed so important. Fluid seeks an empty space, but Tarq pulls the water away and fills the gap with ... something.

[Errod Zand]

When the bog-water moves perceptibly aside, though it's not as far as a comfortable participant might like, Errod doesn't hesitate to go in after the goods. He's already been submerged, at least it's warm in there.

A depressed penguin, he belly-slides down the muddy walls of the pit, a long hooked knife pulled from somewhere and used as a sort of anchor before he winds up stuck in the extremely sticky bottom of the pit when the water comes crashing back in. He grabs at the first thing he sees, tugging it with effort from the miry clay, and hauls himself back up the side onto the safe ground.

With his feet under him again, he holds the object aloft; a tetrahedron the same size as the fists holding it. The metal dully gleams in the grey light, mud clinging inside deep carved inscriptions where the exterior has been smudged clean here and there by Errod's gloves, or the skeletal fingers still held against it by his clutching grasp. The phalange bones drop to the ground, a macabre pinata, as he adjusts his grip. "Such a small thing, to die for," he muses, lowering it from on high and offering it over to Malik.

[Imani]

Those last attacks were far too easy, and the ease of them has left Imani feeling a little uneasy. Nothing is ever this simple. A gloved hand tightens around the hilt of her chain-whip as she takes a step forward, casting a suspicious eye around in search for more wraiths. Or wisps that might suggest the creatures that went to smoke might be trying to come back together again. "This is the strangest world we've visited yet," she announces, not sounding particularly upset by this observation. At least it's not boring.

With no evidence that more of those things are coming back to haunt them, she slogs back to the others, watching as force powers are used to cast buckets of water out of the dig. She crouches down near the edge, letting the hand not still gripping her sword dart into the water as she spots something. She's got it, there's a triumphant yank back as she reveals a bog-water-dripping jawbone. The victorious raise of said bone droops slightly. "This isn't what we're looking for." Defeated, she chucks the thing over her shoulder and turns to look at the prize Errod is holding aloft.

[Malik Ren]

"I go where the Force leads me, Syrus," Malik's vocoder-distorted voice is not sorry. Everyone smells like horrible bog, traumatized by hair-raising, confusing visions, and he is not even a little bit sorry. "It just doesn't seem to be drawn strongly to places with attractive architecture and a low number of monsters per capita. I suppose we can hope."

As the waters part, a prize finds its way to the Hand of Zand! Although it is not a holocron, the tetrahedron he holds is reminiscent of one, all ornate metal and inlaid patterns. It has a sinister aspect to it, although it is beautiful -- like most things dark-side, unsettling and attractive in equal measure.

As the object is handed over, he holds it in one hand, turning it this way and that. "It's a map," Malik states, studying the object and processing Vandred's comments about the journal. Palm up, the tetrahedron hovers above his hand for a moment, then triangular patterns seem to break free of it, glowing and hovering in place, a horrible and beautiful shell revealing a tiny array of stars within. Little pinpoints of light, but what region of space they represent is impossible to say.

Malik closes the map again, back into its pyramid shape, and then hands it to their resident Kiffar nerd. "Syrus, gather Andro Tain and the others; study it and see if you can determine what it has to tell us."

He turns away, leaving the bodies of the Nightfall crew where they lie, walking back toward the ship with as much of an air of leadership finality and seriousness as can be managed while hopping from stone to stone. Hop. Hop.

"Wherever it leads, that's where we're going next."