Log:Sith: Unearthing the Past, Pt. 3
The Sith Empire dispatches an ancient threat and secures a lost facility
OOC Date: April 23, 2023
Location: PF-01.91
Participants: Kol Goren as GM, Aryn Cortess (Darth Kalus), Ban Iskender (Darth Durandus), Netep Muri, Tamsin Cas (Councilor)
The command center has been captured by all accounts. The information that the central terminal is alleged to possess belongs to the reforged Sith Empire. Now they must fight to finalize their claim and eliminate any threat posed to themselves so that they may claim dominion over the long lost outpost and what treasures it may contain.
When it was found the command center appeared abandoned, yet the doors had been sealed shut from within. As more minds turn toward the question of how it was sealed and where the former occupants of the chamber had disappeared to? A simple, yet terrible speculation takes root. Rather than facing the prospect of a long starvation the occupants may very well have turned to the lake of magma outside for a rapid and relatively painless death by taking a final plunge. Whether it was out of mercy for the self or madness, who could truly know.
It is that same speculation that presents an opportunity. A lake of magma providing power to the entirety of the facility and an exceptionally dangerous beast to see destroyed. After securing anything of critical importance in another location; why not lure the creature from the surface, to the command center? Then see it cast into a fiery, molten death. Such a feat will certainly require unity and tenacity in the face of danger.
The alternative is perhaps more dangerous. There is the possibility of luring the creature into the network of tunnels beneath the mountain, attempting to escape while it scours the tunnels for its prey, and then seal the creature beneath the mountain.
To stand together and resist or risk separation and attempt an escape. Both plans carry with them great risk, but each also shoulders the potential for salvation.
<"I am of the mind that the creature be vanquished upon the sea of fire and magma. Luring it here is a matter of opening a barrier and preparing ourselves for such an encounter. While lightsabers proved poor solution, the Force provides and remains our primary advantage. Seizing and throwing it should be a feat we may all manage; well, most of us."> Darth Kalus intones after surveying the molten lake from behind the mask she wears.
Darth Durandus had remained near the blast doors, wary of the vegetable colossus making a breakthrough, and thus had been absent for the exploration of the command center. The swordsman does descend to join the others now, satisfied that, "The gate shall hold. For now." His masked stare passes over the lake of magma, he nods once to Kalus. "I concur."
The Councilor, having secured the data, at least, whatever data it was that this terminal and the system to which it had access, stepped away, rising to their feet. The cylinders as well as the datapad with which she had interfaced with the computer system. As the other members of the team began to speak, they nodded. "There is no way to know how much other information and research this facility might hold. Better to eliminate the threat and leave this open for our scientists than to take what could be only a fraction of what we might find useful here." So that was three for eliminating the plant-mech monster.
'Most of us'.
'Most of us' meaning not Netep Muri.
"Melting it into soup seems a preferable option to turning it loose among the tunnels for a barvy game of hide'n'seek." Muri's in agreement. The petite agent of chaos is in the process of treating herself to a little protein pack, squishing out the flavored gel into her mouth, helmet off and under arm. Her typical mess of curls has been twisted into a massive whorl around and behind her head, still a little squashed looking from its recent compression. "Failing that, do we wait for a rescue contingent to come, strafe the hell out the thorny bastard, and we run an' hop aboard our new ride out of here?" She says, like failure's an option here. Like she hasn't been in service to he who is in service for the Sith Empire for the last decade and a half.
The plan is forged and the path revealed. It is time to execute the plan.
The next hour is spent preparing for the deadly encounter to come. Where some may turn to reflection and seek out harmony with the Force to prepare themselves for the potential for fatal combat? There is another option available. There is another option. It is a side of the Force that may act as a pathway to abilities that some may consider unnatural. It is a path not of harmony and peace, but bitter hatred and the will to survive at all costs, no matter the cost.
How dare this abomination think it may make a meal of a Sith? Does it sense weakness? Then such delusions must be met with strength, ferocity, and unbridled ruthlessness. The Sith? Trapped in some hole in the ground like frightened game animals hiding from the hunter?!
The path is cleared and the great transparisteel barriers barring access to the lake of fiery and molten soup are laid open. The distant sound of the blast doors opening interrupts the silence. It is more than likely on account of the subterranean base having become a tomb that such a sound carries so far.
Now the Sith must wait. Out of sight but prepared to react to the beasts arrival. If only there were a little bit of bait to dangle in plain sight within the command and control center.
The creature may be distant, but following its echoing roar and the heavy thunder of its steps, the rustle of leaves and branches, the snap and crackle of branch and limb; the creature stalks the tunnels in search of its quarry. It is only a matter of time before it comes upon the command center and the trap that awaits.
Kalus sets up shop in the control room itself with a view of the bay and open tranparisteel area below. She did not need to be out in the open to use the Force, only within view. Additionally, they needed someone to seal the way back in, up, to prevent the beast from crawling back, fiery. <<"I am in position,">> Kalus confirms, one hand on the lever to close the exits, and the other prepared to project her influence of the Force.
Durandus had occupied his preparations with blocking off passages that led to areas the band did not desire to see rampaged through, whether for seeming valuable (or especially vulnerable to smashing), or simply for being distractions from the desired route: the path that ended in the lake of fire. Once internal blast doors had been cajoled or coerced into the desired positions to prepare, the Knight of Tears takes his sword to hand and voices evenly, <"I shall bring the beast in short order,"> taking his sword in hand once again and starting toward the distant thunder. His mind reaches out, forming the memory of the path of corridors that brought them here, the path they desired this foe to follow, and with all his noble disdain, projects, <<Come forth, beast; draw nigh unto the doom.>> Although the phrasing might be wasted, the sentiment was clear: a challenge, and the image of how to find them.
As the team was in full agreement, the Councilor took the lay of the land, finding a place for themself where they could both anchor against being pulled away by the creature, and have enough stability that work the datapad in order to open the doors. Only the ones they needed to lead the creature on the path towards the control center, and not along any route that would allow it to find a way to come up behind them or from an angle they could not anticipate. The positioned themselves so that there were two points from which the doors could be controlled, if it came to that. Best not to keep all of their eggs in one basket, as that old adage said.
Muri's been trapped in a hole hiding from hunters lots of times! Like the time she got cozy with a corpse in catacombs on Ryloth, while a hungry Acklay came raging by. It's how she found her sweet stun net gun and, having no idea at the time how to load the damn thing, slid out under the beast's belly to fire a BLANK. Good times.
How *is* she still alive?
"Kas..." Muri mumbles around a mouthful of fruit leather. If she's going to die in the next however-long-they've-got, she's going out on a full stomach. Might as well be polite prey and gutload herself. "Ol'val, nhar'qual..." a darkly humored purr of Olys Corellisi from the Lorrdian/Ibhann'I mutt.
Eventually, the 'plan' is in place and she's squeezed her noggin into that helmet once more - after a swig of emergency hydration(hooch) and taken up residency in the high tower(control room) with Kalus. Her job? 'I-spy'. Muri's got her eye trained on the relivened security system, waiting and watching for its knock on the door.
It's coming. Faster than before on account of the Knight of Tear's kind assistance. There are no roars or other sounds of outright. Not even a loud call for MEEEEAAAAAT. It is a hunter pursuing prey and there would be cause for celebration only after sweet, succulent meat is claimed.
Netep's the first to see the creature, prowling slowly and cautiously through the tunnels on the security monitors. Its vines carefully feeling along its path and wake, as though searching for all manner of potential traps or threats before ushering itself across suspicious points, junctures, or thresholds.
It makes good time on account of having been shown the most direct path to the control room. Only when it comes into sight down the tall and wide corridor which leads from intersection to command center does it finally makes an intentional sound, "Mmm, there you are, *meat*," it speaks in Galactic Standard Basic at Darth Durandus.
Then it makes an offer, even as it begins slowly moving down the corridor after Ban. Vines, big and small, reach out to slide across the Imperial gray walls of the tunnel as he comes closer and closer and closer to the command room doors. "Where are your friends?" it asks with an unsettling chuckle of rustling leaves and shaking branches, "Bring them to me... I will let you live. Call more of your kind and I will feast upon them, yet..." it pauses for a moment, as though its next idea was truly novel and surprising, "you will live."
Still it continues its forward prowl. It does not rush, it does not run with wild abandon through the corridors. It feels its way forward, cautious and purposeful. Hungry, yet patient.
Kalus watches from the view port as the creature makes its way through the threshold of the control area. Still, with something solid between her and it, she relies on Lord Durandus to claim its full attention, and in the meantime, gathers her strength for the ambush. Steady breathing and a sense of calm hold keep Kalus rooted in place. The attack had to be just .. /right/.
<"Such is not my lot, Beast,"> Durandus retorts, scorn thick in the refined words. <"You shall have nothing before first passing mine sword. The only call that I shall give voice is this: I am Durandus, the Knight of Tears, and I shall destroy you."> His radiant red sword is raised in an aggressive salute, and he assails the monster, however ineffective such may prove.
The Councilor remained in position, holding their focus, as the showdown between Knight and Creature began. The datapad remained in hand, the signal open so that they could communicate with the facility's system if that was required. Not that the creature was likely to give them much of an opportunity once it's fury was unleashed, but one did not give up every advantage, even when the beast was nearly in the trap. Certainly not when it could think and reason...and hunger.
Netep watches the vines slither through the corridor, navigating the course so thoughtfully laid out for it. "Here it comes...." she sing-songs into her helmet comm. "Aaaaand.............still comin'." How much vine IS this vine? Like, has it got a body? A base from which to sprout these dastardly tentacles? In the course of hurling it into the magma, are they gonna effectively pull at an infinitely long noodle until the entirety of the forest has disappeared like an unraveled sweater?
Muri's eyes roll up, listening to the posh smack talk. Her farewell salute to the thing comes in the form of a one-handed, rude gesture, aimed over the top of her manned console toward the transparisteel window/view. Below the console, her *other* hand has pulled its blaster pistol forth, juuuust in case.
Eventually a denser mat of vegetation slither-scoots on by and Muri assumes that this is the body, meaning....
"*There's* that wagyx...." It has an 'ass'. Sort of. For sake of simplifying terms. A pedal base. Not so unlike her precious Ormond, the 'planimal' occupant of Doaba's cockpit. Maybe after enough centuries of growth, Ormon would reach such monstrous size. 'He' is already absorbing large insects and the occasional dumpling. Oh, Ormond. Mama loves you...which is why it pains Muri a little to do this.
"Say the word, and I'll push this button." A beat, as Muri realizes that lacks context for everyone who does not see through HER eyes. "Ray shielding, we've got ray shielding controls. *I* have ray shielding control. We're all gonna be in the cage together if I do it though, just sayin'."
The creature continues forward now, cross over the threshold. Now it seems to have chosen to toy with its prey. Even as the Knight of Tear's lightsaber slashes deftly and with expert precision, shearing yet more vines away both big and small, the creature only rustles out a low and soothing hiss of sound, "Meeaattt". The creature's great beak begins to open even as one of its vines shoots forward, attempting to claim Darth Durandus. It is sheared away and then the creature's fury can be heard as a monstrous roar which threatens to overwhelm the senses. The trap is sprung.
It crosses the threshold, and its rage permeates the air. The anger is so palpable that it prompts Kalus' nostrils to flair, sucking in a deep breath as if drawn to an aroma or purpose that fired her up. Emotions did not immediately flood to the surface as Aryn stepped out behind the creature and summoned a great power to herself. Clamping both hands together, she released a surge of unseen telekinetic energy that struck the Drengit in its back, squared, forcing it forward.
Unfinished with the chain reaction of power, Aryn stepped forward again, this time drawing a vortex of unsettled dust to her before releasing a powerful gust. Her cape flaps backward from the release of energy, and when Kalus shoved her fists forward again, a POWERFUL wave of energy struck its back a second time, sending it even further away from her and closer to the open door, magma, and doom!
Durandus darts back a long step after pressing his initial assault and successfully enraging the monstrosity. Turning sharply to one side, he hews through a vine that had sought to ensnare him, and draws the burning blade back behind him in the left hand, poised for another powerful cut if needed.. But he strike this time is not with the sword. Durandus' right hand extends, gauntleted fingers rigid and claw-like as he exerts his will to slam into the Drengir, forcing it further toward its fiery fate. Behind his mask, teeth are gritted in exertion; there is no further banter, for the moment.
The Councilor, who still had not moved from their position observing the engagement between Drengir and the Knight of Tears was keenly aware of the ebb and flow of the Force as the creature advanced in rage into the kill box. Now was the time to see if they could put the plan into action. As Kalus wielded the force, and Durandus did the same, the Councilor released their hold on stillness, all of their will bent on the task, unleashing the force of their will. They did not push. No, their aim was to pull the creature forward, to leave it no chance, one would hope, to find purchase on the smooth durasteel. The aim was clear. Whatever means necessary to propel the creature beyond the point of no return and into the magma that, they hoped would spell its doom.
So, about that ray shielding....
A barely discernable shimmer encompasses the base in the midst of the tug-o-war game for their lives. Muri's finger moves away from its poke just seconds later - she'd made an executive decision. Next decision? Getting some air up in this joint. Let the stank out. (Not really, all her Lorrdian musk is sealed up in her suit, fret not!!)
Many years ago, Muri'd be on the floor in awe at the supernatural happenings breaking rules of physics, generated by three peoples of flesh and blood, but she's seen Xavier pitch enough fits that...yeah. The little nerd hops up from her seat and marches to what seems like a reasonable angle of window to take aim and...
PEWPEWPEWP
A hole. She's made a hole. Good start? An attempt's made to aim through said hole at the indisposed creature and fire off another round but uh....
Click
"...Frink." Also, is this thing set to stun? Goodness gracious, Muri.
The combined strength of Darth Kalus, Darth Durandus, and The Councilor sends the creature whipping and tumbling through the control room. Its many vines seek to grab and grip anything that may permit it to stall the inexorable advance that the Sith have in mind for its fate. Some could argue that the Force is not to be denied, however. Vines slip, equipment is torn free and becomes useless to the creature's frantic efforts to prevent its own doom. Only when it reaches the blast doors overseeing the lake of liquid hot magma does it finally find it's point to anchor.
A stalemate is found. The Sith strain against their enemy and their enemy has found a place to root itself. The Force may inevitably win out, but in the frantic present the ancient creature seems to have at least leveled the playing field.
A vine reaches for Darth Durandus, having earned the creatures immediate ire!
Then a series of blaster bolts fill the air. While they do mostly strike the air and creating the stench of ozone within the immediate vicinity, some of those bolts strike the vines gripping at the frame of the broad door. While the strikes are hardly enough to cause any real harm to the creature, the sudden burning in its flailing appendages is enough for it to release its hold for that crucial second.
There is practically a collective gasp in the Force akin to an athlete exhaling as they hurl their ball or tool of choice. The creature is torn from its anchor and for a fleeting moment it defies gravity. It twists and turns, its vines flailing and seeking, trying fruitlessly to find something to forestall its doom.
The seconds stretch into what feels like minutes, but as danger and an inkling of fear swiftly withdraw from the senses, time seems to snap back into reality. There is the faint sound of a goopy splash as the creature plummets into the lake of fire. Its form ignites swiftly on account of its physical properties and the roar that it expels is powerful, albeit short-lived.
The threat is defeated. Now is the time to breathe.
Exhausted from the exertion of will and Force, the voices that came from the psychological war that being waged finally drew to a silence. Kalus takes to leaning against a wall, and one gloved hand massages another before her head shakes. <"The foeman anguishes at the lick of the flames. Alas, its final resting place bears no meat, and it is met by a hunger that is far beyond its own. It is the one time I can recall the smell of char being favorable."> Blonde hair having come loose from its restraints is reclasped along her head.
Durandus continues the inexorable push in tandem with the other two Sith, leaning physically into the effort, even taking a first heavy step forward as they reach a moment's stalemate, but then the release comes and the swordsman's balance sways suddenly forward, before recovering. The Drengir's fall and fate as narrated by Kalus earn a short nod and his lightsaber hisses into silence with the press of a button. Shoulders heaving with exertion, he adds no words to the epitaph.
This was a battle of will versus physical force. But the Councilor was no Acolyte. Those days were long past. The days when they had been a student, seated at the feet of their masters were gone, now, a dream lost, now, beyond hope of recall. Now, there was only the Councilor. Honed in battle, sharpened as well as any scalpel blade. Every ounce of their resolve, laser focused as they fought the creature who sought for purchase in any way it could get it. Even the sight of the body tumbling into the magma was not enough, as the pull continued, no longer forward but now down, deeper into the molten liquid. They would not release the thing until all sense of its mind and sentience was extinguished. "Let's hope that was the only one of those things roaming this planet."
"Yeah...yeah, let's hope," Muri mutters, still staring down at the burbling pit to hell where no trace of Drengir remains. Her hands are employed doing a little switch-a-roo of powercells on her DL-18. The spent pack ejects with a quiet click and strikes the scratched-up floor with a resounding clatter. At least, every noise following an 'oops' *feels* intensely loud. The new Blastech cell is slid into pl--jams--wrestled back out--REslid into place. Locked.
"But, least we know they've got a melting point." Holstering the bothersome taclight, aka pistol, she returns to her former console and deactivates the ray shielding. "Anyone placin' bets on how borked our shuttle is, out there? I can have a go at it...."
Her repair skills ARE better than her combat set, thank goodness. If there's enough functional parts to work WITH.
The creature is destroyed and that inspires hope!
That hope is dashed however at the realization that the Wayfinder - the shuttle the team arrived on - was destroyed some hours ago and was effectively little more than a bundle of scrap. How are they to escape PF01.91? Hours are spent searching through the subterranean grid of tunnels and hangars to no avail. It isn't until the team ventures closer to the surface that a comm signal can be picked up, chiming across all Imperial frequencies and obviously local given that such means of communication would not extend far beyond the planet's atmosphere in a best case scenario.
The shuttle in low orbit is hailed in return and an explanation given to the initial query, "This is Imperial recovery craft 'Recovery Five'. We are on approach to the facility to provide reinforcements and supplies. Standby for our arrival."
The shuttle does land after some time, with a group of haggard Sith and their precious cargo on-hand. As the shuttle's boarding ramp begins to lower, a lone Death Trooper begins to descend to meet the contingent of Sith survivors with a heavily modified T27 assault rifle held barrel down and aside at angle across his tall and lean frame. The trooper's helmet with its eerie green glow surveys the gathered Sith before his voice can be heard unencrypted from his helmet's comm system, <"I am DT-X10. I will take a team and maintain security of the facility until relieved. Once supplies and personnel are offloaded, Recovery Five has been instructed to return you and your cargo to the Harbinger for debriefing.">
Of course the crew of Recovery Five stands ready to offer supplies; rations, water, or whatever else they may have on-hand to supply to the Sith following their harrowing journey. Although they haven't a clue just how harrowing a journey it was; all they know is their shuttle was not responding to hails.
Then DT-X10 steps aside so that the Sith may proceed without further delay. Nor does the Death Trooper delay in summoning a squad of crimson-clad stormtroopers to fall in with himself, <"One squad on me. Two-man teams, sweep the outpost. Once cleared, provide security on the tunnel entrance.">
Those orders are dispensed and without delay the stormtroopers and the Death Trooper that has taken command of them march off to execute the orders as given.
