Log:Sith Empire: Dark Legacy III

The Sith Lords find an ancient warning.

OOC Date: June 27, 2023
Location: Fringe Space
Participants: Sith Empire, Tamsin Cas, Bors Thul, Ban Iskender, Aryn Cortess

The departure from the evacuating outpost would've felt good had the escape been for the Sith Lords and their special forces detachment. Alas, one mission remained, and that objective laid in the heart of a massive forest, along the base of a large mountain and hidden within a cave. Allegedly, the cave was blocked off with a special vault door, one which required a very specific key. The exact coordinates were shared with the group.

When they arrived, the Upsilon vessel folded its wings up, their sharp knife-blade like tips sticking out above the highest trees as the landing struts found solid ground enough to support its weight. The ramp lowered, and before them stood a modest entrance of stone with an etched emblem across the top. The sigil had cultural significance, ancient in its portrayal and distinctly made to stand the test of time. Crossed blades made up the background with a helmet at the front, a single horizontal visor at its top and widest spot, while the 'chin' of the helmet was much more small and narrow.

Darth Kalus led the way down the ramp quickly, lightsaber already lit and growling with a crimson blade that cast its ominous hue upon the ground. Beside her, the weathered, but sturdy, Dark Trooper 'Cresh' walked at a ready battle stance, its weapon aimed toward the trees. With evening well underway, the forest should have been full of the crepuscule lifeforms, amphibians croaking and insects playing their songs; but instead, it was just silence. There was a gentle breeze, the only sign of nature present, and a distant sound of voices, disembodied, in pain, and crying out for help.

"Does anyone recognize this sigil, and maybe a means to slip past these doors. I daresay time is of the essence."

The dark trooper nods, <"AFFIRMATIVE."> Though, it was simply agreeing with this assessment.

<"Ancient vault works what had been in my imagery learning... for the real examples were long lost before my first year..."> looking up at the design with his chain blade wrapped around curled arm, inert for now to avoid making sound. A sweep of ionized energy across his visor clearing debris as he approaches, looking up at the relief with his head tipped to one side. <"Mandalorian of era before Malachor IV...">

<"So what do we seek within yonder rent in the living stone that make us tarry on this world that should be put to flame to assure that the foebeast not be allowed place to hunker and prepare itself for further advance across unsuspecting systems?"> shifting his weight to his left leg once he comes to a stop, and also causally kickiing

Achlys was not the first from the shuttle, but neither were they the last. Weapon held at low ready, the approached the door to the structure without fear, helmet turning this way and that as they took in the environment. "I am reminded of Korriban, when we travelled to the tomb of Darth Bane. That too, was reluctant to reveal its secrets." The helmed figure stepped forward, moving to brush some of the living detritus from the stones, revealing words in an ancient tongue. When they spoke the words, the sound of their voice changed, as though the very fabric is air and reality protested the syllables. "The writing is in an ancient mode of the sith language," they offered, oddly, not in galactic standard, but in a mellifluous imperial accent. Coming as it did, it had the ring of a 'native accent' rather than an applied one. "They wish those who come to know that within likes a legacy intended to ensure the safety and security of the galaxy." That helmed visage turned back to the group. "when we ventured into Bane's tomb, it was his holocron which opened the way."

Darth Durandus shakes his masked head to the negative when asked if the sigil has any meaning known to him. The swordsman's greater attention remains on their surroundings and pursuers, his own radiant blade bared and borne in a gauntleted left hand. When Bors asks after what they seek, the masked soldier sniffs sharply, once. "I know not, save that it is the fathomless value of possibility." An elegant way of saying even their boss probably doesn't know, and simply wants to keep it out of other hands. "Yet I know this much: the crest of a helm sits above the visor, not below." His empty hand is reached forward and turned harshly as if breaking open a door handle that had locked up with rust, using more raw power than finesse to rotate the image of the helmed head.

As the Sith Lords figure out details concerning the vault and its contents, Kalus turns in place to watch for Mnggal Mnggal closing in on them. She could not differentiate between the dark presence the MM exuded and the imposing dread of being surrounded, and the presence that resided over this place of silent solitude. It was dark, elusive, but there was something else to it; hope, desperation, and... raw power.

She made no comment to the trio who looked on, but something began to happen when Ban found the key and triggered it with his will and influence over the force. A whispered voice upon the gentle breeze is drowned out by the grinding of ancient stone, and as the imagery rotated and sank into place, the doors parted and sediment began to loosen and fall from the threshold in the form of sand.

Cresh activates a light on their head, shining the bright cone into the darkness to reveal a stone path that led down by way of old stairs. There were no trophies here, just banners with the sigil of a X formed by silver chain links upon a bronze field. Cresh moved inside, scanning each side as they walked down the stairs. <"THE PATH IS NOT STEEP."> The droid says, not fully aware of its volume.

"..our foes draw near, a vanguard pursues us into the depths of this place." Kalus confirms, pointing the blade of her lightsaber toward the group of sprinting Mnggal Mnggal closing the distance. They move quick, despairing voices switching to something more sing-songy and haunting. "..they open the door..." One said, and another finish, "..it is time.."

"Silence her legacy."

Ten (10) husks have closed the distance in what felt like a single breathe and move for the entrance.

Though Bors remains still, when Achlys expounds upon the little information he can give from his youthful interests - there is a tension that takes hold of him and brings weight to his shoulders that threaten to sag him and finding only the stubbornness of age there to contest it.

<"Ah.">

The utterance coming on the heel of Durandus's work with the door and bookended by the droid soldier's blaring voice, half turning and likely about to say something sharp when the Husks are pointed out and begin their calling of what has transpired. Eyes narrowed and quickly working details out mental notes - he doesn't race to meet them and instead flicks the switch on his blade the same motion that unlimbers it from his arm - snapping it to full extension and he turns to hold it in two hands - to receive the charge.

Or he would, were they not moving around him like ink and already starting to surround the old man.

"We need to get inside and find a way to stop them from following behind us. We will find nothing if all of the precious time we have left on this world is spent avoiding this scourge." Achlys, however, did not move to follow the dark trooper inside. Instead, they moved to join Bors, saber flashing as fire cut down one of the husks, the other two slashes only forcing them to move back and away to avoid the killing blow.

Ban Iskender shifts a step to the rear as Kalus announces that the first of their pursuers are near. He turns to lend his sword alongside the others. Like Bors, he waits for the charging enemy to close, striking down the first in a cascade of fading embers, before the next pair evade his reach. "Agreed," the swordsman rumbles to Tamsin.

Cresh has returned to join the fight, bringing out a second weapon that ignites with a whoosh. <"LEAVE THIS TASK TO ME, MY LORD. THIS UNIT WAS DESIGNED FOR THIS VERY PURPOSE." Red eyes on its helmeted head turn to regard the enemy husks as it begins to track their movements in a logical, and very droid like manner. It flamer unit spreads then, stepping in front of the group of Lords and engulfs a series of the Mnggal Mnggal. As they burn, the droid expertly shifts focus to its second weapon, speaking to its side to initiate <"INCENDIARY ROUNDS"> before taking aim and firing succinctly, blowing apart the husks with very precise shots. It moved ahead, its voice saying, <"BRAVERY PROGRAMMING ADJUSTED TO MAX. FOR THE EMPIRE...">

Kalus bisects an entity after an unsuccessful flurry, and doubles back as if to shield the elder Knight, Ser Bors. "To the depths then. The trooper is fulfilling its purpose. Every second counts."

The path into the vault was not steep, just as Cresh had indicated, and it led deep into the mountain. They did not have to go far, but it was far enough they could no longer hear the battle taking place at the entrance. When they arrived at the main room, a single arrangement was displayed before them. A wooden pedestal held a single, sealed box, and above it was a mannequin wearing half a mask. It looked to cover the lower part of a face, hiding the mouth entirely. One could say it might have replaced the jaw.

The words read, "In the end, as darkness took him; he was something. A lesson, a reminder, a promise. Do not stray. Do not bow. Do not break."

A brief glance to Achlys when she steps up at his side is lost behind the helmet he wears, but the notion to begin moving into the cavern is acknowledged with a curt, <"Aye"> from Bors before he starts to drift backwards. The assailing creatures forcing his motions, a weaving of his blade to create as best a bulwark as he can manage with the weaving whipping limbs of Mngall Mngall, his burdened lifted by other's blades as they come to proximity

The order down into the cavern is taken and his expeditious path is less for fear of the creature than the practicality - they're younger, faster and sorcerers alike. He's but a mere man and growing long in the tooth.

Turning once within small disks are pulled from his belt as they go, quick triggers being set by connections to his HUD before they are tossed into nooks and cracks along the way and marked for the others, <<"If we need to shut the door.">> offered while he works.

The glance from the Thul Lord went unseen, but it would likely not have been acknowledged by Achlys if it had been. If nothing else, the sith lord had never failed to step into battle when it was required, with mind or saber. But then, they were being urged to move, and they did. As Achlys left the sounds of the battle behind, they took what few moments were given to them to study the descent. When they came to the room with the pedestal, they stopped entirely, settling into a posture of complete stillness. Finally, they began to speak. "I see a figure, hooded, masked, setting the box on its display. She bids me to be aware that this is a warning." A slight, almost imperceptible shift, and Achlys was no longer quite as still. "It is an odd thing, to commune with the ghosts of the past."

Through the visor, Durandus narrows his eyes in a mild frown as he reads the words. A second pass of his green eyes around the chamber, as if expecting something.. more. A short nod offers mute approval of Bors' precaution, though he adds, "A fit precaution, though I daresay if it be needed, we shall shortly find ourselves faced with a fresh dilemma, lord Thul."

In no mood to be trapped overlong as increasing numbers of Mnggal Mnggal accumulate around their path out, he reaches to levitate the half-mask off its display and into his gauntleted grasp. "Lest we join those ghosts, we ought make haste. I see naught but these-" the sealed box and demi-mask. If there is more hidden here, it shall fall to the others to find it as the box too is gathered up.

"We have what we were tasked to collect. Let us withdraw from this place." Kalus beckons after reading the words, and listening to the others. She waits by the stairs up, and begins to move back toward the entrance once Durandus collected the trinkets and 'warning'. "Perhaps the resulting blast from Ser Bors' explosives will punctuate our exit?"

Upon arriving back at the entrance, the group finds their companion, Cresh, in a heated battle. Some ten husks have anchored the dark trooper in place, ripping its arm off while the flames poured from its weapon.

The droid, freed from the temporary tether, doubles back and fires its other weapon. There is no rescuing Cresh, and despite his success in earning the ire and attention of the husks, many are beginning to go by it to pursue the newly arrived Sith. Five (5) stand in the path toward the shuttle and escape.

Communing with spirits, crawling about old caverns that were more than likely elaborate tombs, "Mmf mmbdmb fhmmbms mm." heard softly from the old man's helm, his speakers not engaging - but if that were by design or fortune remains to be seen. There is no irritation in his movement or what little perceptible demeanor there stands for Lord Bors. But he keeps to his work, as it were, letting the Sith do as they need while he began running det-tape into a, relatively, sizable fissure that looked ready to spread to the ceiling.

At length he answers, Durandus - perhaps he had been in need of the right words. Or maybe his helmet -was- malfunctioning again, but there is a distinct youthful sass to him yet, <"May perhaps that be, Highness, but I'd rather battle with atmosphere and find myself passing from hypoxia than consumed alive and that thing gaining those memories that are more cherished than gems or thrones.">

But that was past and before them now further foe creatures that threatened exit from this world and the matter of dealing with more that stood between they and escape. And the growing thought that twists the very core of him. The wish for one Blood Moon class of these Sith destroyers. That he might do away with the planet and a portion of the entity upon it.

Left hand squeezing and engaging a virtual switch the quartet are, for an instant, backlit in spectacular fashion before soot and smoke blend them to shadow and then envelope before the five charging husks have reached them, <<"Tarry not, I doubt this should conceal us long!">>

If there had been time, quite likely Achlys would have protested the taking of the box, "Recall what the husks said...silence her legacy. The one who wire this mask within that ruin was no female. There is more here--" Achlys, as they spoke, moved forward to begin the work of cutting them a way through towards the shuttle, "--Than what we are bringing back with us." The explosives behind them put a fine punctuation to their words.

Durandus nods once to Bors' more audible words. "A fit resolution, my lord," he judges the sentiment. Achlys' concern is answered evenly, "Our time here is spent; all too soon our vessel shall be overrun and our path off world closed. If there is more than mask and parcel, I cannot see it." There is no ire in the words, Tamsin may well be correct and Ban knows it. But time is not on their side. He moves with a swift and determined stride as the imperial party cuts their path through the outskirts of the horde, past the doomed droid and onto their shuttle.

They board the vessel, Kalus the last aboard who uses her influence of the force to trigger the mechanism on the wall that initiated the ramp close. Ser Bors was expected in the pilot's seat, there were few to match his enthusiasm for leaving places like these and his skill to do so in a flying vessel. Kalus deactivated her weapon and looked out the open ramp as it slowly raised up. The explosion from the cave stirred up a vortex of dust, rock, and debris making it near impossible to see through it.

Only a pair of droid-like red eyes shown through as the Dark Trooper put itself between the departing vessel and the pursuing enemy. Kalus thought for a moment, reflecting on the words that had been etched into the monument below. "As darkness took him, he was something. A lesson, a reminder, a promise. Do not stray. Do not bow. Do not break." Ironic the greatest example of this ancient sith reminder was perfectly represented in a droid that refused to give up the fight.

<"These confounded, clumsy things..."> he had practically sprinted to the cockpit and the ramp was still rising when he'd thrown himself into the command seat, quite literally kicking the primary throttle lever to maximum.

"Sir!" the co-pilot, even though he had told the flight deck officers he needed no co-pilot began, hand raising to try and pull the lever back and lessen the shrieking grinding of the landing struts digging furrows until the shuttle had gained -some- lift in addition to forward motion. Bors's finger was on his lips though, silencing the younger pilot who looked aghast, offended, confused and perhaps even moderately thrilled at the sudden and so intimate action by the older pilot.

<"Shhh... Shhh. Wing thee back to sleep, dear babe and be lulled as I rock thee to slumber... shhhhhh."> pressing his gauntleted finger just a little harder against the younger man's face before finally grabbing the yolk and drawing back hard enough that even while only halfway shut the sky is suddenly very visible in the boarding hatch after nearly being scooped off by the rocky hillside. The threat of struggling grav-systems and inertial dampener systems giving way to make those within tumble to the back of the cabin from the steepness of the climb. <"She's pulling hard!">

"SIR!!"

Finger still on the co-pilots lips, Bors blinks <"Oh."> flicking a toggle to engage the flight wings to drop to appropriate position, <"S-Foils are stupid."> helmed head nodding at the other who finishes the other parts of the five point harness to their own seat, swallowing hard and closing their eyes while Lord Thul dumps weapons and reserve power to thrust, engaging the ship PA.

<"Ere, thine captain opens lip and tumbles forth message most sincere: Restrain thyself to thine seats for we shall be within a ride most tumblesome."> alerts can be heard over the PA, and a muttered <"What dost thou mean 'standard hyperdrive'."> with a disgusted grunt and a resumption of his speech in full to the mic, <"We know thee hath many selections from which to make for thine travel arrangements, but thee selecting Thul Spacelanes humbles us.">

The PA cutting out and the ship rising towards atmosphere and, relative safety.

"Sir what are you DOING!?"

<"Knave, to truly experience it, thou must pilot as though acquired by guile and skullduggery.">

"What?!"

Achlys, who kept their saber ignited, even as they found the relative safety of the shuttle, kept their focus on the droid whose eyes were watching them depart. As Kalus spoke, their helm turned in her direction. "Some promises should not be broken. We should not begin a journey with this one unremarked and unremembered." The mask turned back towards the receding tomb, if such it was. The sound of tearing metal was barely audible above the roar of engines. A moment of silence, visually, and then the trooper's head turn from its shoulders shot towards the shuttle, sailing into the body of the vessel and into the curve of Achlys' free arm as the ramp closed, "We will rebuild him." Much as, perhaps, this treasure was intended to rebuild the Sith Empire.

Darth Durandus deactivates his own sword once the hatch is sealed and the shuttle has lifted off. Behind the mask, his green eyes go closed as the gentleman extends his senses to gauge whether any vestiges of the corrupting life form cling to the ship's exterior before he releases a slow breath, and delivers the box and demi-mask to Darth Kalus. Though he was swift to take the artifacts, the duelist is content to leave the decisions of whether and when to open their prize in other hands. It is with distinctly less steady dignity that he takes his seat, as Bors has assumed his particular idea of 'control' over their flight path, and Ban straps himself in for the no doubt raucous flight ahead.