Log:Sith: Unearthing the Past Pt 1

The Sith investigates the ruins of an old outpost.

OOC Date: April 17, 2023
Location: PF-01.91
Participants: Sith Empire, Kol Goren, Raskta, Ban Iskender (Darth Durandus), Losor, Merulia, Netep Muri, Tamsin Cas (Councilor), Aryn Cortess (Darth Kalus)

Even crossing and journeying into the Deep Core is a journey oft wrought with peril and doom. Over millennia countless exploring souls have been lost on account of making the voyage into the Deep Core. It is a place often at odds with what may be deemed the norm for the rest of the galaxy. Using known paths through hyperspace achieved through the decryption of an Old Galactic Empire databank, a shuttle known by the name Wayfinder from the Harbinger steadily works its way through the hazardous section of space. While there are moments where the shuttle exits hyperspace only to hang in the unending blackness of space with nary a celestial body in sight, there are other moments in the journey where a leg drops the shuttle from hyperspace within view of astronomical phenomena that threatens to bend the mind. Oddly shaped planets or moons abound, while some others are clearly beyond habitation on account of the completely impossible means of surviving upon their molten surfaces that begins to rapidly cool into obsidian and only to heat up and become molten anew. Then there's the small planet that seems to be constantly changing its shape in rather drastic ways on account of the many earthquakes constantly hammering beneath its surface. It is through the combined efforts of the Sith Lords Aryn Cortess and Losor that the shuttle is able to traverse this deadly span of space with minimal effort. Following their supplied coordinates that make good time in their calculations and if it weren't for the sheer strangeness of some of the sights, many of the passengers could call the journey almost pleasant - if it weren't for the constant fear of a meaningless death.

When the shuttle drops out near PF-01.91 there is a moment of wonder and respite from the sheer oddities of the galaxy. While the long-forgotten planet is peculiar in its own right on account of its mind-boggling massive size; where in many instances planets orbit their suns, the sheer size of PF-01.91 has resulted in its three suns orbiting it. Which in turn throws the planet's surface into a near-constant daylight with only the slightest twilight patches from time to time that last but minutes.

The shuttle begins to make its descent into the atmosphere, following coordinates supplied by a probe droid previously sent by the Sith Empire. Under the capable guidance of Aryn Cortess and Losor, the shuttle makes its way through the breathable atmosphere. Instruments indicate that the air quality is superb. For some who had lived in my industrial or highly populated areas of the galaxy, it's very possible that the air on PF-01.91 may prove to be the most refreshing ever enjoyed. Sensors indicate that the planet's surface is teeming with life and not just flora, but fauna as well. Though from the air there seems to be no visible signs of the wildlife.

Dread.

Dread.

Dread.

As the shuttle drops lower and lower in the sky and the planet grows to fill the entirety of the viewport, a fear of the world begins to take shape. It tugs at the mind and the heart. If there was such a thing as a soul, even it begins to feel the anguish of inevitability.

The shuttle thumbs down on the gradually overgrown landing platform in the very heart of the old Imperial outpost. A soft hiss can be heard as the boarding ramp begins to lower and the rush of refreshing, exhilarating air can be felt invading the interior of the shuttle. Immediately the sounds of life, wild and free, begin to infiltrate the shuttle's passenger hold and boarding area. Cries of one avian or another can be heard in alarm or allure, some high-pitched squealing roar can be heard beyond the boundary walls of the complex.

The complex itself has been long abandoned with the vines laying across the perimeter wall and having worked their way deep into the compound, probing for new places to soak up the sun as they cling to structures and earth alike.

Raskta Frowns as she's holding onto the shutter walls she's got herself strapped in and is shaking in her seat as she helps to co-pilot though her eye's shit " What the hell is with this planet " she frowns feeling it's hunger and want for flesh!

Ban Iskender has donned the simple silver mask of Darth Durandus, marked only by the thin visor for sight, and the solitary ornament of a teardrop engraved below the right eye. The solemn swordsman rises once the shuttle has landed and steps toward the main hatch, stepping off the vessel and onto the overgrown world. A slow breath drawn as a turn of the head surveys for some point of entry deeper into the abandoned base.

Losor shrugs off the feelings or tries to from his spot in the co pilot's seat. "The frak? This planet is so....well I don't know but it's something." He says trying to rid his mind of that insatiable hunger for meat!

Darth Kalus (Aryn) is seated in the pilot's seat wearing a sealed mask over her face. With her hood down, the restrained blonde hair is in view, but hardly an obstacle as she moves over the controls of the flightboard and takes them to their destination. With the aid of Lord Losor, they are able to navigate the dangers well, eventually arriving at their destination. She engages impulse engines with a subtle shove of the lever and brings them to the surface for a smooth, easy going landing. When the ship's weight has transitioned to its skids, Kalus rises up from her seat and moves for the ramp. She was not immune to the draw of imposing dread this world seemed to have. Its unspoken anguish was heard in the echoes of the Force, and something Aryn was acutely aware of, though thankful for years of meditation training, her mind was not so easily invaded and influenced.

Stepping off the vessel and arriving next to her husband, Durandas, Kalus spares not a single word before walking forward.

Not a death world, but a dead world in this narrow spot. Such things were far less comfortable for the Nightsister as Merulia shudders a little on the shuttle's decent and then closes her eyes to center herself.

As they touch down the blonde Sephi stretches, her hands adjust the cloak and the weapon at her hips before she comes to glance between the others.

"What do you think?" she questions softly in accented tones.

Meaningless death? Nonsense. Netep Muri's no stranger to running fools' errands into the unknown, whether for her own selfish curiosity's sake or when enough credits are dropped into the lap of the Explorer's Guild. This...is just another job. It is, of course, to a part of the galaxy she's before avoided at all costs. Muri prefers the Outer Rim and the wild space beyond, because the Core means big government and Muri never cared much for...well. Life's got a funny way of changing one's plan.

Netep Muri works for Sith, now. Mostly /a/ Sith, but by extension, she is under the employ of that Empire. She dozes through much of the flight, or so it might appear with her slouch in seat, legs kicked out as far as they can, for comfort's sake. Why? She ain't having to fly, this trip. It's a luxury, for one who's usually at the helm. When the hyperspace bit's at end and they are gathered into orbit of the celestial giant, Muri rises from her seat and hazards a look for herself. A low whistle of appreciation escapes her lips, in spite of that gnawing sense of dread. And sure enough, as they descend further into the atmosphere, honing in on that complex, she can't help but wonder if this is like Felucia, on steroids. No, not Felucia...maybe like if Kashyyyk and Endor had a love child. Yeah...that's it. And it brings a slow smile to her lips.

This is what the wandering space gypsy lives for - exploration. Sometimes that means getting noosed by carnivorous vines, or snip-snapped by giant crustaceans. It's all just part of the game. A game she takes seriously, which is why she's suited up in scouting armor, prepared for any noxious fumes this planet might throw their way.

Muri wastes no time in following Darth Kalus out.

Helmed, hooded, robed, the Sith Councilor sat in silence for the trip. They had already taken the liberty, of course, to ensure that all necessary supplies were tucked away within easy reach. What interest they took in the approach to the planet was a few glances taken once they had escaped from hyperspace and were making their way down, into the belly of the beast.

Leaving the ship was easy enough, and boots followed boots until the group was standing at the exit ramp. 'What dis shr think?' The councilor looked over towards the Nightsister, "I think something lies here that has not been fed in quite some time."

A set of durasteel stairs lead down from the landing tarmac. These too have been invaded by the thick cables of vines. Some may note that the vines possesses particularly large thorns, hooked and curved to defend them against the probing mouth of some creature or another. The air is wonderfully free of humidity. If it weren't for the underlying sense of dread that seems to hang about every set of shoulders like some manner of malevolent cloak? The place could almost be considered idyllic in its climate.

The ring of boots on durasteel grating can be heard as the Sith Empire's team descends from the landing platform and across a broad bridge connecting the platform to what is likely the outpost's central command center. The dread hangs in the metaphorical air, but each individual works to push it to the back of their mind. What, after all, is a simple feeling besides emotions playing tricks?

Through the journey from the landing platform to the command center doors, the sounds of thriving life calls and fills the air. It does not, thankfully, feel threatening.

The door of the command center opens readily. The two halves of the doors open with a hiss. This is a good sign. The outpost still has at least the most rudimentary of power. It's entirely possible that it is powered by some old geo-thermal generators beneath the mountain itself.

The interior of the command center seems almost pristine. Beyond a few items seemingly out of place - a chair turned upside down, an old caf cup knocked aside, a datapad without power discarded near the doorway - the command center seems altogether untouched. As though it is frozen in time. Its terminals undisturbed and ready to be visited once again by servants of the (old) Empire. It is here that one could theoretically plug into the mountain base's security systems and open the blast doors from the outside. In theory.

Raskta Looks about as she walks out her mask is on as she peers about " This place is strong in the force " She says frowning any place strong in the force would be like this but something is not right about this place. She Glances about a hand moving to her hip to grip her saber.

" I have never heard of a planet like this place " She glances about " It's perfect and not " .

Durandus rumbles evenly to Raskta's observation, "It hungers. The terminals appear functional, be about our task, ere we must slay a world-beast."

Losor growls shaking his head back and forth fingers curling and uncurling into fists as they observe. "The need, it's so frakking strong...it hungers...Meat it wants meat..." He shudders his ice blue eyes wide at the presence upon the planet.

Kalus does not pause her approach until they were well within the control room. Despite the cadence of her pace, she was subjected to a number of mental experiences she reasoned only she could hear. A voice whispering to consume meat, obsessed with it really, and the presence was imposing. She spoke nothing of it and took to looking over the room.

Immersing herself in the Force, Kalus waded out into the proverbial lake, embracing the nexus of power and blending time in that moment. Echoes from the past lingered like blinking lights only she could see and access, touching places within the room to trigger the psychometry. After a moment of experiencing the echoes, their surface thoughts, and the underlying urgency of the situation, Kalus's perspective returned to the present. <"Those which were here left in dire haste. An evacuation that would have taken hours occurred in minutes. They ran from this presence, the one calling for meat. Claiming, it is almost here. Dread drove them away; dread and overwhelming fear. -- Perhaps data within these terminals will reveal more? Has someone a strong skill in such?" Kalus withdrew her hand from touching anything else and clasped it with her other at the small of her back. "Perhaps it is as Lord Durandus says; a world beast lurks..." She peers out a window (if there were any.)

"There was power here," Merulia offers as she walks, thoughts voiced aloud. "Question simply is if we explore a tomb that lay dormant and might house an explorer and looter, or a lair in which something awaits us..."

Considering the thought softly, the comments of others brings a frown. "A hungry beast awaits us then. We must be prepared to bare our teeth and flex our claws in response."

These vines look wicked. Muri's steps slow going down the stairs, allowing others to pass her by while she reaches under a flap, into a utility pouch on belt. It's the sort of compartment one might store an extra power cell for their blaster or cartridge for slugthrower. But Muri? She's got some fancy tweezers and a vial being pulled forth. Tissue sample? You bet. Her short legs double-time it to catch up after, taking care to not stomp ON the vines, lest she trigger some reaction.

"It's perfectly awe-inspiring..." Netep purrs out with a hint of Ibhann'I drawl to Raskta and Losor's observations. "There are many wild places that'll chew you up and spit you out, no druks given. I get the sense...'she' is no different." Not the sense born of an ability to tap into some unseen Force, no. Muri is mundane. It's merely an intuition, acquired over decades of taking idiotic risks for sake of a little cred. Xavier did (probably still does) often wonder how the hell she's survived as long as she has. The luck o' the Muri...

Ah yes, the terminals. What they came here to do. "Well, I'm not one for teeth and claws, but I'll do what I can t'poke around here." And keep an eye out. Muri's violet gaze gives a partially opened viewport the side-eye from behind her visor as she moves past and begins to nose around the work stations.

The Councilor did not bother with looking further beyond the boundaries of the port of entry, as the team made their way inside. What was outside would for now, remain outside. If it did not, they could consider the options then. For now, accessing information on the base itself was top priority, especially given the reports from Kalus on the sights the base had seen. They did not take a seat at the terminal, but still, they worked as though taken with an easy familiarity with the system. This was not a brute force assault on an old system, more...a gentle waking up of a slumbering giant.

As they worked, the sent back reports of what they were uncovering. And in the same time, it was being transferred onto a clean datapad retrieved from their robes. "They seem to have been proceeding well on their mission. But the end was not sudden. Increasingly frequent reports of missions going out into the forest and not returning. Every few weeks, then one report a week, two reports of troops lost, four reports. And then nothing at all. No reports, and no manned station. Why the continued to send patrols, that I can't say, save perhaps they were afraid their secrets had been uncovered. This was a seed bank, of sorts, but for data and scientific discovery. A place to store knowledge in a secure location."

Raskta moves to search the area but the only thing people will hear is her moving to jump up and look into the view ports.. only for her fingers to slip on a something left over and her comming crashing down .. and ALOT of Echani swearing.. not sure what she's saying but it's clear she's swearing up a strom as she struggles to get up only to slip on some more fluid or something and yeah... She's kinda seething! In face she yanks out her saber and takes several not needed and clearly ineffectual swipes at the wall

Beyond the viewport the thoughtful mind and attentive eye may note something peculiar. In a world so lush, green, thriving, and alive; a veritable curtain of wilted and dead leaves have broken free of home upon the branches of trees outside the outpost walls. What should have likely been vibrant green leaves, were suddenly brown-and-yellow-and-peppered with black. Carried on the wind, they glide and dance their weaving and twirling patterns. Death has claimed them, but those leaves continue their dance none the less.

The terminal chirps and there's the faintest of stuttering-grinding sounds as it becomes active anew. While Councilor Cas works diligently to access its systems, it seems just as eager and diligent to serve. Somewhere deep in its processors it's thankful to be awakened from its sleep. While it doesn't open itself entirely to the newcomer, the system seems almost appreciative of the fact that it gets to perform its duties once more.

There is suddenly a massive, deafening CRASH that feels the air. It sends a tremor through the command center. Those who rush to the viewports to look outside find a new addition to the outpost's central courtyard. It had barely missed the landing platform, but down resting against one of the support struts rests a large ball of durasteel and transparisteel. Bits of foliage has embedded itself in the lumpy ball and many vines have sought to interlace themselves among the wreckage over decades. There is one distinct shape however and it the aged and starship enthusiasts of the group: it almost looks like the misshapened cockpit of an older model Imperial Lambda-class Shuttle. Now twisted and crushed into the shape of a speeder-sized ball which rests against one support strut of the landing platform.

Some may note through the open access doorway that the sounds of wildlife have become much quieter now.

Raskta eye's narrow " If i didn't know better that looks like something laucnhed a ball of steel at us " She looks around eye's peeled for danger as she glances around looking for a place that might surive getting attacked from above..

Darth Durandus sniffs behind his expressionless mask, commenting to Tamsin with a hue of disdain to the otherwise level words: "They sent patrols because it was procedure to send patrols. The Old Empire demanded obedience, not intellect." The thud of impact from outside draws a slow, terse exhale. Without further word, he takes his lightsaber in one hand and stalks back up to open air, where their shuttle is standing exposed. Under his breath, the swordsman rumbles, "Come ye forth and break thy teeth upon us."

Losor jumps slightly at that loud crashing sound, oh no he doesn't run to the viewport instead he draws his Saber with that electronic hiss. "Frak this can't be good, looks like we might be in for some fun!" He chuckles as he looks around at all those assembled here.

The ground shook from the impact and Kalus did not even stutter in her footing when she had cried out moments before, <"INCOMING!">

As dust, debris, and dirt settle outside from the impact, Kalus is also unclipping her curved hilt from her belt. <"Best to proceed with the mission. Lord Durandus and I will see to this gargantuan nuisance, or at the least, give you time to delve deeper.">

As the Knight of Tears stepped outside bravely, inviting the creature to join him in battle, he likely heard the subtle clip-clop of her boots as she stepped behind him. <"Come what may, this foe proceeds no further."> Aryn activates her lightsaber with a snap-hiss, the wavering red growling with each movement as she salutes the unknown, then drags the orientation of her blade to her right side.

Quite the threat as things are hurled at them, Merulia snatching the hilt from her waist and activating the weapon with the classic thrum of humming crimson as her lightsaber was brought to life.

"As you wish," she offers, the Nightsister looking back to the threat. "We will push onwards, but we will remain in communication!"

With that, the Sephi began to move as commanded.

The Councilor appears to have the tech side of this operation well in hand. "Seed bank?" Muri echoes softly. Admiring the thought. Literal of figurative, seed banks are delightful things for those with a bottomless hunger for knowledge. So far, the only 'knowledge' Muri has uncovered is that somebody had a decent taste in thermos-ware, had possible pics of the fam, and....oooh, a manual. The thermos is hooked onto belt, the tiny holo-emitter pocketed into pack, and the manual...well, what the hell. That's going into the pack, too. "Looks like they cleared out pr---"

• BOOM*

Muri freezes....click-clacks her way over to peer out. "Mmm..." Yeah, she doesn't look the look of that! "Yeah I'm in favor of deeper."

It was not that the Councilor was unaware of what was going on around themselves, but, at the moment, they were otherwise engaged, and they continued to tap away at the computer terminal, working in easy accord with the computer system. Certainly they understood what it was to feel useful, and, they made use of the computer system. Durandus' comment received only a mild, "The it is fortunate that this is the New Empire."

As balls of steel and seemingly living vines crashed into what amounted to the courtyard, the sound of locking mechanisms cycling up and releasing broke the silence beyond the receiving area, "Any who are comping with me move towards the blast doors." They took a few seconds to adjust the receiving frequency of the datapad so that it could continue to communicate with the computer systems, as they stepped away from the terminal and headed towards the now cycled open doors.

It's as though the blast doors unlocking with their massive, thunderous clanks and clunks had acted as a dinner bell. Suddenly the forest beyond the perimeter wall - specifically in the west-southwest sector - begins to shift. It is as though some behemoth moved slowly and purposefully through the trees. Not only do the trees and other vegetation shift and sway with the passage of something gargantuan unseen; more and more of the green leaves break free of their homes upon the branches of trees. In flight those same lush, green leaves begin to yellow and then brown. Curling in on themselves as they are swiftly withered and leeched of all their life.

Life has ceased to exist. At least metaphorically. Where before there were the calls and screeches of an abundance of wildlife filling the forest, reaching the ears of those within the outpost's compound. Now? It is silent. It is as though all living things. All meat. Has fled into their holes, nooks, crannies, and refuges.

The blast doors begin to grind open. They offer sanctuary. They offer refuge. They offer salvation. The dread is strong now. Overwhelming, even. Fear takes root in even some of the strongest of resolves. While it may not be enough to drive those same strong souls to madness; it's enough to tear away the shell of their bravery. The dread is palpable. It makes some think back to the innocence of childhood. The safety of playing pretend with childhood friends.

The forest, once green and alive, is now blackened and dead. It is a swift transormation. Once vibrant leaves have now fallen to the forest floor, blackened and slimy as though months of decomposition and rot had settled into place in a matter of moments. The trees once proud, strong branches have already began to sag beneath their own weight. The watchful eye - particularly Lord Durandus and Kalus - can watch this transformation of the forest in real time. It's like a cascade of withering rot travels across the forest and toward the compound's walls to the southwest. Right up until that blackening rot reaches the trees closest to the boundary zone between forest edge and perimeter wall. Moments after there comes a weighty thud of a great vine hurling itself like a grappling hook and rope over the perimeter wall that stands two stories high. The durasteel catwalk which had once upon a time provided sentries with a place to stand their vigil becomes broken and twisted as the vine as thick as a human male slams across the wall. Then another. Then another. Then three others. Then more. And more. And more. They flex and coil, twisting and gripping as though the legs of some soft-bodied, multi-legged mollusc from the depths of old Mon Cal. It is clear they seek purchase to pull whatever they are attached to up and over the wall. A voice can be heard, dry and rasping like the shaking of leaves and cracking of tree limbs...

"MEAT."

"MEAT."

"MEAT."

"MEAT."

The blast door lays to the east, nestled within the foot of the mountain.

Raskta Looks up " MOVE " She growls and starts to sprint... she's not sure what is comming but something is telling her to get into a position she can defend none the less.. She sprints towards those opening doors at top speed.. using her long legs to propell herself forward! She moves like the wind some would swear she's using the froce to run but she's not that fast though close.. clearly moving at extreme speeds with the sheer power of her body!

It is not that Durandus does not know fear. He does, all too well and all too deeply. As the vast, eldritch horror lashes out with it's horrible limbs in a ponderous effort to haul it's bulk over or through the walls, Durandus reacts the only way he knows how when faced with fear: he charges.

Advancing on the besieged wall, the swordsman cleaves through one, and then a second of the thorned limbs with powerful hewing cuts. A spray of sparks is raised as one cut goes amiss and gouges into the cortosis facing of the bulwark. At least for this instant, the advance of this terrible being is slowed.

Losor following in the steps of Durandus he charges in his saber battling with the vines though it's a tough one and Losor growls. "Tough bit of foliage ain't it?"

Darth Kalus stands confidently behind Lord Durandus as he begins his battle with the creeping vines. Although it may be a futile gesture given vines beget more vines, Kalus adds to the potency of the attack by submitting a two-pronged approach.

Summoning great strength in the Force, Darth Kalus' presence can be felt causing a large ripple as her power sweeps outward from the stones upon which she and her husband stand. A bass like sound rattles outward, displacing dust from surfaces as it forges a path like a strong breeze, to their foe.

Crying out from the effort of the power, Kalus pours into it her emotions and the training she had spent years honing. Both hands rise, one of course still wielding the lightsaber, but from her gloved palms emits a kinetic energy that halts the creature itself, and begins to keep many of the vines at bay.

Hands form fists, influencing the force to crush inward using unseen tendrils of infinite power, and in doing so, strained Kalus' focus to its max as she tried to interface her enhanced perception of their surroundings with the abilities that allowed her to stop her foe's advance.

<"HOLDING IT IN PLACE!"> She screamed, clearly strained from the gargantuan effort, but trusting her Knight of Tears to safeguard her as she tried to aid him.

The Nightsister knew the command to move on and fell in behind the exploritory team, yet as they moved one of the vines lashed and snaked, intent on seizing her.

Meru had been a rock, born on Dathomir and raised on a world of darkness, wild creatures and predators unfathomable...and yet even she felt some of that supernatural dread slip through as the tendril lashed towards her.

She twisted, slashing out with her new saber and driving the length back, but she didn't pause to fight, insteaded headed to join the others at the blast door.

MEAT. MEAT. MEAT....

It's more than a little disconcerting when mother nature *speaks*, and with the linguistic eloquence of a hungry teenage boy, no less. As such, Netep acknowledges that yes, now would be a great time to stop what she is doing and get the kark outta dodge before the borked up, beefy foliage can sample *her* meat. It's not quite as terrifying as the horde of the parasite-puppeted corpses that attacked her and her peers many years ago, on that derelict station, but....close second. At least a close third. Enough to light a fire under her ass, at least, because the mathlete is running like her life depends on it. Which it likely does. She doesn't look back, just keeps going until that checkpoint is reached, at which point she flattens out against the inner frame and better aims that pistol at anything that moves that isn't dressed like her comrades. It's only after a few panting breaths that she realizes Tamsin's already here! An upnod, for the Councilor.

With the remote link to the computer secured, the Councilor moved away from the terminal and began to make their way towards the blast doors. The sudden screaming of whatever beast it was that now hunted them exploded in her mind, and their step faltered, just for a moment. Only a single voice kept the fear and terror at bay. An old voice, once well-loved and now, long lost, 'Defeat of the body is pittance in comparison to defeat of the mind.'

There would be no defeat today, as the Councilor turned on their heels. There were a few holding the line. Their job was to get the rest into the bunker. "All of you, with me!" She did not forget those three at the threshold of horror, however, "Fall back to the bunker, we can seal ourselves inside!" The Councilor began to do just that, plugging into the closest access terminal and beginning to key in entry to the control systems from the inside. Muri's upnod was returned with a signal of her hand to go further inside. Better in here than out there, yes? "If you need me to pull you back, yell out."

There's a moment of thrill and exhilaration when the first few vines are cleaved from the monstrosity. There's an equally powerful moment of dread and despair when those same vines split at the stump and two new, freshly grown vines begin to grow out from the sheered appendage. In some cases this means that while the drengir's body has been halted along with many of its appendages? There are just still many vines whirling and whipping, being shorn free by the cleaving power of lightsabers. Which only serves to grow the number of flailing appendages as the old saying of violence begetting violence takes root in this situation.

The vines lash and slash, the air practically whistling as they cut through the air. The thorns practically glisten with the poison that coats them. One vine batters Darth Durandus, rocking him in his place of stalwart defense of Darth Kalus. Another pair of lash out and strike Lord Losor. They do more than pummel him however, as when they batter his frame those pair of tentacles likewise begin to coil around him. He's lifted from the ground and already those same tentacles begin to pull him up, up, up and toward the crest of the wall.

"Meat."

The voice can be heard, only blocked by the perimeter wall itself. The snapping of branches and twigs intermingles with the slap of vines against the wall and the rustle of foliage, even as blackened leaves fall from the trees beyond the wall and land within the perimeter of the outpost's wall.

Losor grunts and growls as those tentacles hit his, his skin breaking from the impact probably another scar though this one will appear as though he were whipped his bones cracking as he's squeezed and hefted the pain and wounds causing him to pass out.

Evading one blow, sword held back and poised for an aggressive parry, Durandus is struck with a sideswipe by the next tentacle, propelled bodily like a black clad missile to impact against the mountainside in a puff of dust and sliding gravel a short distance away. If not for his personal shield, he would likely be slain; instead, the swordsman is able to rise again, dirtied but unhurt as he falls into step with Kalus as she withdraws.

Concern etches itself upon the face hidden beneath an emotionless callous mask. Seeing Ban struck and thrown threatened to wrench her heart tight, and she stepped in the direction of the monster, prepared to unleash her rage for its transgressions, but wisdom won out in that instance and the voice from the Councilor reined her back in. <"Time to move,"> She calls out to Ban.

Kalus fully intended on intercepting Durandus, but witnessing the brutality of Lord Losor's defeat influenced her to act otherwise. For her involvement, Losor is seized from the demise that would have seen him consumed as meat. She grimaces, taking hold of his body vicariously through the Force and ripping him free from the clutches of the poisonous brambles and living vines.

His body is cast (with care) to the open doors, and unable to secure a soft landing for the Echani warrior, Aryn had to trust his constitution would hold out against further damage upon hitting and sliding across the ground inside the protective embrace of the bunker. Aryn took to running for the doors now, lightsaber deactivated so as to not injure herself while closing the distance.

Merulia's hand extensed as she waited from her position on the 'safe' side of the threshold, the room bathed in the red glow of her saber while she focused her power outwards.

The force surged, rippling and 'slapping' the the vines like a mother preventing its child from touching naked flame.

"Hurry!" she called, eyes narrowed with effort.

"Righto..." Muri murmurs and rocks on heels around with an exaggerated about-face...and cautiously steady saunter (not march) forward. No telling what lies in wait ahead, but from first impressions, there's no immediate threat to their existence on *this* side of the blast door. The further in she moves, the more out-of-the-way she becomes and the longer the runway becomes for those sprinting inside to slow down and not plow her over.

The tag-along explorer takes point with her tac-light aimed squarely ahead...in the daylight. For another ten paces or so, then the floor begins to slant and down, down, down she prowls. The taclight, aka pistol, becomes less redundant now, more of a blessing. Not that her scouting helmet didn't already have its own little visual aids, but ya know. There's a comfort in ILLUMINATION.

Until there isn't.

"Uh," Muri's voice returns over comms as her footsteps slow to a wary halt in the would-be darkness. A metallic gleam glints menacingly back at her as that tac beam sweeps up, and down, and around. Up and down the other side. "Droids." What about them? "There's droids down here, maybe some...battle series er...security series? They're pretty big." And she's not moving another inch. Not unaccompanied.

Despite the fighting and vine failing that was going on outside, the Councilor did not move to assist. They remained at the controls, marking as each of the group made it to the blast doors. The three who had held the rear guard were last, and one was being brought on waves of the force, but they were all coming. Some less gently than others, but what was the momentary discomfort of pain when weighed against the permanence of death?

The Acolyte called Losor is carefully extracted from the grip of the pair of vines by Darth Kalus and soon both are making their escape from the drengir's presence. The dread seems to recede the further away they come. Freed of the Force holding it in place, the drengir does not waste time in beginning its ascent of the wall anew.

While Darth Durandas works to make his way from his new spot on the slope of the mountain's foot, Darth Kalus and the Acolyte Losor are swift in their own arrival to the bunker. Especially the Acolyte, as Losor is hurled with the force toward the bunker and beyond the relative safety of the blast doors.

It may be a thing to be appreciated that Darth Kalus' back is turned to the drengir. It climbs atop and over the wall with relative easy and begins its rush through the compound, its vines whipping and tossing aside old, long forgotten equipment with ease. One immense vine swings horizontally, knocking the shuttle called Wayfinder from the landing platform. It does not explode, but the horrendous crash of durasteel and shattering of transparisteel spells out the demise of the shuttle.

"MEAT. MEAT. MEAT." comes the calling voice of the drengir as it surges across the compound and toward the blast doors. Its vines waving and flashing, slashing and whirling.

The blast door begins to close just as the last of the Sith begins their approach. There is a mournful, yet angry call of "MEEEEAAAAAATTTTTT" that can be heard before it is cut off by the blast doors sealing. The blast doors do well to block noise of the outside world away. Finally. Peace. Safety. Security.

CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! CLANG CLANG CLANG! CLANGCLANGCLANGCLANG!

The sound of thick vines and fury striking the blast door turns the reinforced durasteel structure into a gong as the creature outside vents every ounce of its frustraton, anger, and fury upon the door. It holds, even if it sings out in protest.

The perpetual daylight of the outdoors now robbed of them, the tunnel is bathed in darkness with the talk of security droids now on the lips of Netep Muri.