Ask Korriban Hand of Doom

[Darth Stolas]

Morgan had not been to Korriban in some time. In the past he'd frequently visited the old tombs and barren landscapes as a reminder of past failures and his future ambitions, but lately had become inured in work and other business. Some snippet of knowledge he'd acquired from old sources, however, had brought him back again. Darth Stolas wanted something on the planet, and he was here to get it himself.

He and his companion landed aboard a Kathol courier, a ship nimble enough Stolas had chosen to pilot it himself with Lorcan and Dante with him. Repulsorlifts and thrusters washed away sand from an outcropping a reasonable distance from where they were meant to go, landing gear dropping to secure it in place. Dante handled the power down sequence and would be remaining aboard in case of emergency.

Stolas wore his armour and lightsaber, pant legs tucked into his boots and cloak left behind, his pair of petar attached to his belt with everything else. This was slightly less than a purely social visit, and besides which they would be taking speeders there. A pair of Razorfin bikes were lowered from the ship's small cargo area, one of which was part of Lorcan's payment for the job. Say what one would about the man, but he did good work and he was well paid for it. Stolas didn't care about the rest.

Black boots took the young Lord down the entry ramp, the side vanes of his helmet closing to seal it in place. His visor impassively looked over the landscape before eventually settling toward the horizon, in the distance of an old and sacred village.

"Have everything?" he asked, helmet turning slightly back toward the ramp.

@Nefieslab

 

[Lorcan]

Sand on Korriban was evil as shrak - it was like it was made from the ashes of dead aliens who really wanted to kark with the day of anyone and everyone who stepped foot on the planet. It was in some of the filters to his helmet already and they'd barely made planet-fall a few moments ago. The whole planet literally hated them being there and it was the most "Sith" thing he'd ever karking seen in his life.

Lorcan was decked out in the armor he used for Sith missions since this was, after all, a Sith mission on a Sith planet alongside his Sith employer. They arrived in a different ship to any of the others he had seen Stolas actually use in the past, which was something of a common trend with the young "Darth".

"Level with me..." Lorcan piped up as he stepped down the ramp, his regular weapons firmly in place including his sniper strapped tightly to his back, "Do you just swap ships because you like the New Ship Smell or what?"

He should probably show more deference considering his employer was, well, both his boss and paying him extra with a gifted speeder bike to keep once the mission was over too. But if he did, Stolas would know it was faked with his voodoo magic so he didn't bother. Instead he just obeyed whatever command he was given and performed whatever task was asked without flinching and without compromising on results.

"All ready to slaughter a village if needs be." he confirmed to his boss as he walked back round with the speeder bikes in hand, bringing Stolas' own ride with him, "Ready when you are, boss."

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Stolas pulled a filter cartridge from his belt and inserted it into the helmet slot to help with the sand and grit. He wasn't fond of desolate wasteland planets most days, and this one in particular he was even less enamored by. It had its uses and its history, but the planet itself? A ball of dust, ground to nothing by those with little foresight. The helmet turned further toward Lorcan after another moment.

"My ship is known, that one isn't," he replied in the clipped military tone that generally came across when he was working. Luckily Lorcan wasn't paid for toadying deference and Morgan didn't care enough to correct it, which worked out just fine. He was also smart enough not to try lying to him, didn't ask too many questions, and worked for pay without moral concerns. A smart mouth wasn't really an issue in the face of that, and was even amusing at times. Their employment arrangement was, thus, very simple: Lorcan did as he was asked and so he got paid. Not a hair out of place.

"Not unlikely," he commented, turning to slip onto the bike Lorcan had brought up. He wasn't sure how friendly the village was going to be to his appearance, but it's not as if he generally balked at violence. Morgan was a born Sith and Stolas didn't make a habit of letting things or people stand in his way of what he wanted.

Once Lorcan had mounted and the young Sith checked their helmet comms were linked they set off across the hilly dunes, leaving clouds of whipped sand in their wake. Their arrival would be obvious and swift, and should only take a relatively small amount of time.

"Talk first," Stolas clarified after a few minutes of travel. "I will handle it. Afterwards, we will see. I'm sure retrieving the item will be... Difficult."

@Nefieslab

 

[Lorcan]

Lorcan eyed Stolas from the safety of the inside of his helmet, content in the knowledge that his boss likely couldn't tell that he was currently giving him the stink eye. Did he really expect him to believe that load of bantha crap about the ship not being known? The dude had more ships than Lorcan had pairs of shoes and even if he didn't, it wouldn't matter. Korriban was a dusty hellscape that, quite literally, only the Sith gave a whomp-rat's arse about.

Who was even around to know?

Still, it wasn't enough of an issue for Lorcan to actually care enough to do anything other than pull faces. Instead he just shrugged slightly and let it go - the boss had answered his question, wasn't the boss' fault he didn't care much for the answer he supposed. Mounting up on the bike he was going to have to paint go-faster-stripes onto later, Lorcan gunned the engine to keep pace with his boss.

It was to be no surprise, considering the ships, that Stolas was no sloach when it came to handling a speeder bike and Lorcan appreciated not needing to slow down for someone to catch up. Arrival at the village was a quick affair but he knew better than to assume the negotiations would be. If there even were any, despite his boss' command to talk first.

"Aye boss." he complied, dismounting from his bike and carefully not making any moves to draw his weapons, "Give the word if they start acting out."

He casually moved to stand slightly behind and to one side of Stolas, his left hand resting on his right wrist as he stood at a parade rest. And if he primed his wrist blaster and wrist rocket with the action? Well who was to know? But even as a Ranger, Lorcan hadn't put much trust in people to not do the stupid thing and these villages looked plenty stupid.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

For most of the short trip Stolas had been quietly lost in thought. He was a planner more than an up front talker, searching for weakness and the leverage to best exploit it. A deficit derived from the nature of his work, though he did have some secondary experience to draw from at least. Morgan had been hanging around a man who excelled at slipping his way through conversation and watched him work very carefully.

The young Lord smoothly dismounted his bike and turned to look toward the village as his boots touched the bleak sands, pausing for a moment to look over the architecture. Old, worn by time and dust storms, but otherwise well kept. Good. Stolas gave a simple nod to Lorcan and walked forward toward it.

Red-skinned occupants dressed in robes, some in bits of gold or black stone, peaked out from buildings and paused in the streets. What were clearly warrior stared at the unexpected but loudly announced newcomers with a suspicious eye, the sacred place supposed to also be secret to most. Stolas paid their caution little heed and offered a small nod of the head to acknowledge their presence, stopping before the stone archway.

His helmet turned to the left most guard and he spoke in an old Sith dialect common during the Old Empire, but it would probably translate well enough as well as get his point across.

"Send for your priest. Darth Stolas arrives for the gauntlet."

Both guards seemed to get the idea, but in typical Sith fashion they were also assigned a duty of their own, a test for seekers of the artifact. They nodded and then immediately swung their weapons forward in challenge. Stolas' response was swift, stepping left away from one guard and his right hand coming up to send the other flying through the archway on a stream of crackling lightning.

Stolas' helmet turned to look at the other who wielded a black and jagged-edged sword. The red-skinned man swung the weapon horizontally at the Sith Lord's neck and he suddenly dipped down low, twisting low into an almost-seated position as he drew his lightsaber to burn through both legs. Momentum sent the guard off to the side roaring in pain while Stolas languidly twisted back up to a standing position and returned his weapon, deactivated, to his belt.

Morgan sighed and looked at the lightning-struck guard, currently trying to rub feeling back into his legs so he can stand. The newcomers were clearly still looked on unfavourably but at least they could get past the guards.

"I'll do it myself," he informed him and then stepped through the archway.

@Nefieslab

 

[Lorcan]

Red Sith? Yep, Red Sith.

They looked like they really believed the hype they had received over the ages about how fearsome they were because they almost immediately tried to kill Stolas. Lorcan raised an eyebrow underneath his helmet and casually drew his blaster pistol as his boss dismantled the two guards. With equal callous casualness, Lorcan flicked his blaster from stun to lethal setting and watched as both guards were incapacitated by Stolas.

That Lightning stuff was powerful scary – the kind of evil magic shrak that made youngsters shite the bed in fear he’d say.

“Right behind you boss.” He told Stolas with a thumbs up, “Just cleaning up first.”

He stepped up to the twitching heap of the guard who had been shocked, blasting his head apart with a single shot. Humming a little tune, he wandered over to the guard who had been cut in half. Said guard swiped at him with a knife he’d gotten from somewhere and Lorcan sighed a little bit as he dodged.

Lorcan fired, blasting the guard in the shoulder.

“Oops. Missed.” He declared with a small head tilt as he fired again, blasting the other shoulder before firing once more and hitting the Sith in one lung, “Oops… shouldn’t have wiggled as much.”

The gunman left, wandering along beside Stolas as he left the guard to either bleed out of die, like he was drowning, when his lungs gave out.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Lorcan's casually callous condemnation caused Stolas no consternation, caring little for whether the two guards were living or deceased. The man received only a small nod before the young Lord moved on at a relaxed pace, the shot signaling one dead guard ringing out through the village. The second guard was determined, apparently, and suffered for his hubris at Lorcan's hands. That one did give Morgan a little amusement. Who brings a knife to a legless gun fight, anyway?

Trouble at the gate and the sound of blaster fire serving to call the priest the Sith was looking for. The elder red-skinned man was flanked by more guards with narrowed eyes, but they didn't try to start something this time. Stolas didn't doubt they trained well but the holy village was isolated by time and wars across Korriban between different tribes and, frankly, he doubted they had much practical experience.

Stolas' visor settled on the priest, impassive and unreadable, standing casual and tall among the dust and ancient buildings. Even from behind the mask he could give a person the distinct impression they were being carefully examined, every movement and expression picked apart for weaknesses to leverage, something the priest was currently experiencing. The young Lord didn't only rely on his eyes to see, and it made the red-skinned man uncomfortable.

"The gauntlet," Stolas said, more insistently than last time, voice carrying a tone of casual command. He was not here to negotiate for the item with its caretakers and made no effort to pretend he was. The priest looked at an assistant priest for a moment, muttering something quietly, and then turned back to the two armoured strangers who had maimed and then killed their guards.

"We require proof of your worthiness."

Darth Stolas stared at the priest in silence for several tense seconds, standing stoic and still. Black boots took him slowly forward toward the priest, fine leather and rubber crunching in the sand until he stopped barely three meters from the group of Sith. A gloved hand lazily rose from his belt and a black, diamond-shaped pendant rose from his palm, opened and twisted for a moment, and then projected a series of old Sith symbols into the air for the priest to see.

His eyes widened slightly and then moved between the mask and the pendant before it was returned to a belt pouch.

"Now." he said with no room for argument. The priest nodded and the group turned to lead Lorcan and Morgan both further into the village, back to where it was moved up against a hilly formation. Morgan spoke for a moment through his comm to Lorcan.

"Count the living."

Just in case they needed to be dead later.

@Nefieslab

 

[Lorcan]

Lorcan caught up with Stolas just as he was approached by another group of the red-skinned Sith. He had never seen an elderly Sith Pureblood before and now, having seen this one's face, he also didn't need to see a Sith Pureblood's saggy ballsack either to know what it looked like. With his pistol recently holstered, Lorcan tilted his head to the side slightly as he looked over the guards and the old man who seemed to be someone important.

Which meant if he needed to draw again he would put one in the old man's right knee before gunning down the guards. The guards were never important at these kinds of meetings; only the old dude might actually be interesting or useful. That Stolas had to repeat himself was already beginning to get on Lorcan's nerves.

What else of value did this shite stain of a village actually have to offer? There wasn't any credits, no precious gems and there was certainly no call for these wrinkled old sacks of shrak as slaves. Even a Hutt would lose his slavery boner if these things were the only thing on the menu.

"Proof?" he actually scoffed with a growl, something nagging at the back of his mind, steadily making him feel more irritable, "Demands from a weak old man and his pathetic little karkboy manservants..."

His hand positively itched to draw his blaster and he felt like he was going to actually do it before Stolas gave him another order. His gaze snapped to the Darth for a moment instead of the Purebloods as he felt anger starting to bubble up within himself. It felt, wrong, somehow though. Like the anger wasn't even really his... Lorcan took a deep breath and nodded to Stolas in confirmation of his order.

Still, ever step up the incline made his skin itch and his hands clench as he looked around. Counting had never been something Lorcan liked (maths had never been a strong suit) but he wanted to know if he had enough shots on him to kill them all with his blasters, or if he would need to switch to his melee options.

Something inside him cried out to tear their throats out with his bare hands and it was starting to sound like a good idea.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

The Dark was naturally quite strong on Korriban, and especially so from wherever the gauntlet was presently being kept. Lorcan's general irritability initially wasn't overly notable considering the kind of man he was but as the pair was lead further through the village by the priest and his men, Morgan couldn't help but notice the general mood the hired gun gave off.

He was giving off a sense of anger and was a little twitchy, reminding Stolas of some of the soldiers had acted for the first few weeks working in the Eternal's fortress on Sullust. The Darth partitioned some of his attention to keeping watch on Lorcan but otherwise let him be to sort through it on his own. Now that the other man worked for a Sith, soaking in the Dark was practically part of the job description. He'd get used to it.

Hopefully.

Stolas and Lorcan followed the group for a short time, golden eyes behind the mask noting where natives tended to be in the village. They stopped before the rocky hills up against which the village was built, a large stone gate filling a hole in the side. The mask turned to look at the priest who looked warily at him in turn. Morgan's mood was difficult to gauge when his face was covered and he'd already shown to be willing to kill, so it was understandable.

"Within lay the trials to retrieve the gauntlet," the priest informed simply, stepping aside and commanding a pair of guards to pull open the gate. Stolas could sense the Force was strong and stagnant within even from where he stood.

Without a further word he stepped toward the black opening and then inside, relying on his helmet and natural advantages to see.

@Nefieslab

 

[Lorcan]

Lorcan was counting the natives and he could tell where they were. He could even tell, more through experience than anything else, which ones were 'runners' and which of them were 'fighters' - even which of them were 'cowerers'. The way people reacted when someone came to kill them were broken down into those three camps; running, fighting and cowering. He was ticking them all off on a mental list as he walked alongside Stolas.

Every time he glanced at the Darth, however, a spike of rage would seep into himself and he hated how it felt. It was cold and clinical and nothing at all like his regular rage and he despised it. His rage and his bloodlust had been something he had to focus on, fix, over his lifetime and the idea that something was messing with it now made him very angry indeed.

Stolas would be able to tell through the Force that the anger was being inserted into Lorcan by an outside force if he looked hard enough. It wasn't from the Darth himself and the general atmosphere created by the Dark Side. Instead it was using that to try and hide itself, slipping under the ambient noise of the Dark Side to strike again and again.

Every time he looked at Darth Stolas, his employer, the rage sank a little deep. Every time he looked at him the urge to commit violence rose and it was only Lorcan's stubbornness that allowed him to refuse. As Stolas was making his way past the gates, Lorcan caught sight of one of the guards staring at him. The guard was significantly smaller than the other guard however, much closer to the priest in build actually... and he was staring at him awfully hard.

Another spike of rage inserted into his brain and Lorcan was gritting his teeth even as he stepped past the gate with Stolas.

"... I karking hate this place." he ground out lowly, "The red skinned karkers make my skin crawl... make me want to pull it off... and tear their faces off..."

Thinking non-violent thoughts was getting harder and harder as icy nails dug into his mind, twisting what he was thinking even as he thought it.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Stolas had been about to respond to Lorcan's general aggressiveness, walking just beyond the gate, when he stopped and paused for a moment. He wasn't looking at the other man whatsoever but for several seconds he would feel the sensation of being very closely watched. Slowly the helmet turned and with it that feeling passed, visor moving toward the collection of purebloods. The priest suddenly looked distinctly discomforted as it passed by to the guards and finally settled on the smaller one who was outright glaring toward Lorcan.

That particular pureblood glanced over toward Stolas with eyes that widened in surprise. There was a low and threatening growl that emerged through the helmet's modulator, a bass rumbling that was distinctly inhuman. The guard froze in place eyes wide with fear. No bones broke and no blood was spilled, but Lorcan may notice the guard had stopped breathing after an exhale and the spikes of anger would begin to fade.

The guard certainly had. Terror and bewilderment mixed on his face as hands came up to his neck, the muscles in his chest flexing but refusing to follow his commands, focus on what he was doing to Lorcan completely lost. Those crimson fingers of his clawed at a throat that would not inhale, then grasped around it far tighter than he could possibly have intended. A bare wheeze escaped, the tiniest breath before Stolas clamped down again.

Morgan, Lorcan, and the other purebloods would watch this single guard slowly suffocate under the effects of the Sith Lord's command. Panic overtook him as blues seeped into his features, falling to his knees before the Darth, then to the dead and dusty ground. Stolas walked toward him as casually as if he was taking a morning stroll, his visor never leaving the fallen guard. He looked up with pleading eyes that began to glaze over from lack of oxygen, limbs twitching and muscles spasming.

Minutes passed before he lay still, hands falling from his neck. He was still alive but quite unconscious, still twitching here and there as he died. A boot came up to lay itself callously across the guard's throat and press firmly down. With a sharp twisting motion Stolas crushed the delicate cartilage in his throat, leaving him to die, and stepped off.

The visor turned then to the priest who once again looked very uncomfortable.

"Will there be another problem?"

Stolas did not take kindly to threats against his assets, Lorcan naturally included.

@Nefieslab

 

[Lorcan]

Choked to death nice and slow.

Part of Lorcan was a little bit annoyed that he hadn’t been able to do the kill himself but he was very aware that it was probably just the residual energy from the Dark Magic BS that the wrinkled old red nutsack had been using on him. He might not be Force Sensitive but Lorcan knew enough to know that you needed focus to use the Force properly.

Having your throat slowly crushed was enough to break that it seemed because he could feel the fog of the artificial, the pushed, anger slowly beginning to abate. Of course the fake anger dissipating did not exist in a vacuum – it was replaced, for a moment, with relief… before it was replaced with anger again. This anger though?

Oh this anger was all his own.

Lorcan ground his teeth and spoke softly to Stolas, keeping his voice low enough that only the Sith Lord could actually make out what he was saying. His gaze never left the Purebloods that still clung to life like the pathetic little scraps that they were.

“Request to requisition a half tonne of salt, sir.” He spoke in a deceptively soft voice, “I want to help make sure that nothing grows here when we’re done here.”

Would it make a difference? Likely not, the planet was already mostly a wasteland as it was. But the Purebloods had to eat something – so he would make sure that they died out here. Flinging him across a room with the Force? Fine, whatever. Firing lightning at him? Ouch but still – whatever.

Messing with his karking mind?

He wanted to make sure he got the chance to pile every body high and piss on them before leaving them to rot in the sun.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Stolas' helmet turned a little toward Lorcan as he spoke, then a little further to look at him with the visor. His expression was of course unreadable. The suggestion was amusing but more pretty than useful, unfortunately. These purebloods were still a resource to be used- at least until they pushed too far as a greater whole.

"Denied," he replied over their comms, then paused for a moment to look toward the head priest. "For now."

The priest under the immediate scrutiny of Darth Stolas shuffled from one foot to the other for the few quiet seconds that passed. Several guards looked at one another with some degree of nervousness. Stolas had set and reinforced a pattern thus far; he would not attack or kill the purebloods unless they stepped up to challenge him, but if they did his retribution would be far from kind. They should have expected as much from the pendant he'd shown them but perhaps they had simply forgotten.

After some continued staring the priest gave in and said there would be no further problems and the trials could begin. Only then did the visor turn away from him and back toward the gate carved into the hill. Morgan stepped forward toward it and looked down the dark pathway, a series of ancient stairs leading deeper into the stone. He went down them without a further word.

At the bottom was what seemed to be a simple corridor layered in dust and sand with a simple doorway at the end. Stolas walked down the path quite casually until the doorway itself through which there was a circular chamber. Inside the chamber was a unusually large specimen of Massassi warrior who stood at just over two meters tall and thickly muscled. Two obsidian axes lay in his hands, and he turned dramatically around to face his two guests.

"BEHOLD! I am Arak'Chokar nar Larok, he who devours the bones and flesh of his enemies! You shall not pass by me, puny intruders, for I have defeated many-" at which point he started gesticulating wildly and going through a list of prior challengers he'd killed in single combat, including other Sith.

Morgan turned slightly toward Lorcan.

"Quiet him, would you?"

@Nefieslab

 

[Lorcan]

Denied?

Nuts.

Lorcan was willing to bet that the Sith Lord would have been willing to burn and salt the land if it had happened to him. The feeling of being violated was fresh in Lorcan's mind and he felt it twist in his gut - having the guy dead was fine and dandy. But he hadn't been the one to do it. He watched and he enjoyed it, sure, but there was a certain level of blue-balls that came from not getting to take the guy out himself and not being able to take it out on any acceptable targets.

Biting back a growl of annoyance, Lorcan squashed the anger that came from it and nodded once. He wasn't happy, and Stolas would know that through the Force, but he didn't expect most people would be happy in this situation either.

"Of course, sir."

Lorcan didn't believe, for a second, that the Purebloods were done messing with them but they seemed ready to let the Sith team move ahead with this objective. If they didn't, he was going to shoot them to buggery and back despite any withering looks he got from his boss for it. Still, he didn't really need to be told to follow along with Stolas. When the reached the chamber and the other alien gestured and began a speech, Lorcan glanced at Stolas and waited.

The Sith Lord didn't have much patience for fools in his experience so... he didn't so much as nod at Stolas' request. His hand shot down to his pistol and drew it as quick as he could. Firing even as he raised the barrel, he hit the alien in one knee with a shot before nailing him right in the genitals with the second shot. When the alien went down, screaming, Lorcan drew his vibroknife and grabbed the alien by the face tendrils and held it to it's neck.

He paused.

"Any questions for it now that it knows better than to sass a Sith Lord, boss?"

He would wait for the answer before acting - if Stolas wasn't interested, he would tear the Massassi's throat with a swipe of the blade.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

In an excellent display of the benefits of an authoritative position, Lorcan took the knee out from under the Massassi and cut him down to size. He may well have been a mighty and storied warrior but he was unfortunately not terribly blaster proof. The traditions of this place probably assumed a typical Sith would show up, become angry at the boasting, and engage in a duel to the death. The Drast prince didn't have to get angry.

Morgan had people to do that for him. Lorcan, in this case.

His boots took him closer to the mercenary and his new prisoner. Stolas' helmet tilted slightly down toward the two of them in silence for several seconds while the pureblood quieted, probably going into low level shock from the pain. At least he wouldn't bleed to death.

"What is behind that door?" he asked, lazily indicating the large stone door at the other end of the chamber. The guard remained defiantly silent, teeth gritted. Morgan shrugged and dismissively waved a hand toward the two and walked toward the door, leaving Lorcan to dispose of the pureblood. The red-skinned Sith's last thoughts probably had something to do with honourable conduct, but Stolas had his own opinions on such things.

Honour has its place but it belongs only to the living, really. Dead is dead.

Stolas examined the door while Lorcan did his finishing off, shrugged slightly after a moment, and pulled a lever to allow the stone slab to drop into the floor.

Beyond which were what appeared to be four pureblood skeletons standing in a wide, downward-sloped hallway. Aside from the joints they were coated in black obsidian and marked with Sith symbols, and when the door opened they sharply turned and began to run toward it, each wielding a black-tipped spear.

Stolas called one of the two large axes the Massassi had been using to his left hand and casually walked backwards from the door slightly, knees bending a little. The air around him felt as if it grew slightly colder in his focus.

A spear came thrusting in from one of the walking corpses and the axe head swept left in a parry, hooking and pulling while he rotated in the same direction. His arm wrapped under the shaft and his fingers hooked, using his torso and inhuman strength to bodily slam the skeleton into the edge of the doorway. A boot kicked out and shattered a knee joint, although even then it refused to let go of the weapon. Morgan backed off a step from the door, putting the skeleton between himself and the others, and extended a gloved hand to grasp and shatter the delicate finger joints on the shaft.

This was going to be an irritating fight.

@Nefieslab

 

[Lorcan]

Lorcan was happy that the big old Massassi warrior had been waiting for them; it gave him a chance to really get rid of some anger. He had been kind of hoping that the red-skinned bugger was going to stonewall his boss and would you look at that? Everything was coming up Lorcan it seemed! He was practical enough to say he wouldn't have minded leaving the dude alive if he gave them any information but since he hadn't?

So his blade would slash deeply, cruelly, to the bone and Lorcan would leave the proud massassi warrior to bleed out on the stone floor. He did, however, make sure to step on the back of the dying warrior as he made his way over to his boss.

"Some people have no manners."

Speaking ill of the dead was kind of his thing.

He watched as his boss pulled a lever (why was it always a lever in places like this creep ass tomb-like place? Sure the place was ancient but who didn't use a button to open a door like a normal person) and readied himself for something to go wrong. Why? Because things always went wrong when someone pulled a lever in an ancient building built by homicidal karkheads.

Magical skeletons using spears? That was new to him though.

However he was reasonably certain that he would still rely on some simple truths and one was that most things didn't do well without a head. A spear was thrust at his chest, aiming to poke a hole in one of his lungs probably, but he dodged to the left to avoid it, raising his left hand as he did so. The skeleton wasn't an amateur spearman so he was already ready for a second attack when Lorcan pressed the trigger.

The grapple line shot out, punching straight into the skull of the attacker. Another button press and the grapple retracted as he stood his ground, pulling the skull clean off of the skeleton's neck to land firmly in Lorcan's hand. His hope had been to stop it by taking its head but the spearman didn't even hesitate and it was only Lorcan's quick reflexes that stopped him from being cut open as the spear's tip was slashed across his chest. Instead it scraped across the front of his armor, biting into metal but not the flesh beneath.

So... magical skeletons didn't need skulls.

Well, knowledge was power he supposed.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

As it turned out, beyond the energy-resistant sections of black melted over the walking bones, the rest of them was more animated than reinforced. Fingers cracked and tore away in the grip of the Darth's black gloves and a boot firmly kicked forward into ancient hip bones to send the spearman sailing back through the doorway. The stolen spear was raised in two hands and spin into position with practiced ease.

Another charged forward and suddenly flew back under the Sith's influence to land atop the other on the ground in a tangle of limbs, leaving Stolas to deal with just one for the moment. It swung the spear and Morgan's caught the blow with his own, ducking and rushing in low to bodily tackle the skeleton into a wall and binding their weapons against the stone. Stolas may dress well and speak politely, for the most part, but in a fight his vicious nature came out freely.

In what against a living target would surely be a horrifying and incredibly painful experience the Firrerreo used his free hand to start ripping apart joints and ribs, the sounds of cracking and crunching bone resounding as the skeleton struggled in his grip. It tried to bite him and received a skull-cracking headbutt for its trouble that left it with only half a lower jaw still attached.

By the time the other two beyond the door had detangled themselves their companion was in a small wriggling pile on the floor, skull being ground spitefully into powder beneath leather boots. Stolas stared at the still undamaged one as it strode forward, finding some doubt that simply dismantling the undead was the point of this challenge.

If there was a point at all, of course.

@Nefieslab

 

[Lorcan]

Well Lorcan wasn't going to lie and say he was having fun but it was something of an experience. Still, all experiences had to come to an end and Lorcan was very happy to end this one with a bang. He kicked the skeleton attacking him firmly in the ribcage, sending the much lighter skeleton flying backward. Reaching out with his other hand, he turned to Stolas for a second.

"Advise you stand back boss."

The wrist rocket popped up along the length of his lower arm and Lorcan sighted down his arm before firing. Tests in ancient Sith tombs probably were intended to use cunning and the Force to beat problems but, well, Lorcan didn't have either of those. And Stolas didn't strike him as the kind of guy who was going to be overly precious about the how when he got what he wanted.

He launched the wrist rocket, the explosion only roughly 3 meters in diameter but more than enough to catch all of the remaining skeletons within the blast. Those closest to the point of detonation shattered and their connections broke off as bits of bone flew through the air to bounce harmlessly off walls and armor.

One of them remained animated, it's legs and one arm shattered. It would still move toward them but Lorcan would just blithely step over it, avoiding it's clutching hand.

"Sorry about the noise boss - was getting sick of spooky skeletons though. What do you suppose the point of that was?"

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Stolas jumped back from the door and Lorcan's target in a well practiced spacing maneuver, boots settling back on the stone ground when the wrist launcher fired. The detonation easily dismantled the skeletal guardians and although a few stray bits of shrapnel and bone shards struck his raised arm, they failed to penetrate his armourweave and any bruises they left behind would be gone in short order.

A gloved hand brushed off some of the yellow-white dust left behind from his arm and he used the butt of his new spear to breezily sweep away the grasping hand left behind. Morgan examined the mess left behind, pleased by the end result even if his visor did a poor job of showing it. Method mattered to the young Lord of course but as with many things it all came down to context. They were here to retrieve a gauntlet in the end, not indulge the dead in their vanity.

Frankly the main reason he didn't just crack the hill open with blasting charges was that Emryc would kill him. It had historical value and the purebloods would be upset.

"Plausibly? Kill the stupid.." He didn't seem terribly upset by the sound- else he'd have said something- although it had been jarring in the tight space. There was a new ringing in his ears but from experience that wouldn't last long either. Without further delay he moved into the blast-cracked doorway and down the hall to whatever might be next.

For the moment it appeared to be a simple hallway on a slight slant headed downwards further underground.

"I approve of your choice in armour. Putting your arms stipend to good use."

@Nefieslab

 

[Lorcan]

Lorcan would have issue with the noise himself but mainly because it brought back an old friend. His time in the Rangers and as a gun for hire before joining the Sith had led him into many conflicts. Many of those conflicts he started but whatever, the point was that explosions had become something of an old friend at this point. Still, that familiarity came at the cost he was currently still dealing with.

"Mawp... mawp...." he whispered to himself as he worked his jaw to try and stimulate his inner ear, unable to do so while wearing his helmet, "Bloody tinnitus..."

Shaking his head a little bit, he would be honest (if asked) that he didn't actually hear what Stolas actually said about the actual point of the skeleton guards. Probably something sassy, best to just nod like he agreed/knew what the kark his boss had actually said. But not, like, nod too much? If he nodded too much it would seem like he was brown-nosing...

Probably way too much thought into a nod when his boss could probably use his space magic to tell he hadn't actually heard him properly. He did, however, hear the comment on his armor. Lorcan grinned underneath his helmet as he patted his chest.

"I'd have gone black and red to fit with the colour scheme too but, well, figured at least one suit had to scream 'look at me'." he admitted, "Blue and rockets seemed to fit the bill."

@Mr. Teatime