Ask Korriban Hand of Doom

[Darth Stolas]

Stolas moved right along through the stone halls. Lorcan either heard him or was just acknowledging he'd been spoken toward but which one didn't particularly matter. He did seem to get the comment about his armour well enough at least.

Morgan didn't terribly worry over colour coordination in this instance. While the soldiers and pilots under his command did have uniforms, practical by design of course, Lorcan was essentially an auxiliary. Part of the Sith system but not technically a formal part of the over-all military so much as under Darth Stolas' direct supervision. The work could be more difficult at times but no one could say he didn't pay well. Morgan preferred those under him to be well compensated as a matter of professionalism.

"You won't find me complaining," Stolas answered back about the colour scheme and use of explosives. Some Sith might have no appreciation for that kind of thing but he wasn't one of them. If it works, it works.

But back to the matter at hand. The sloping hallway began to even out as they walked and steadily widened further and further. There at the end was a large circular chamber with gold symbols etched into the stone floor. At the center was a statue of a man crafted of polished obsidian, as smooth and detailed as a common clothing store mannequin.

Stolas examined it from a distance for a few seconds before walking calmly forward and poking it with the butt end of his spear.

"Ominous."

@Nefieslab

 

[Lorcan]

Ah it was always good to know his boss appreciated big explosions when they could be used against others and didn't give a crap about how he looked. Sure, there was an understanding that he had to look good, but that was more because Stolas seemed like the kind of guy who had never needed to get by on what was cheap. No, Stolas came from credits if Lorcan's guess was right - and people who came from credits were able to be picky about things without even meaning to be.

Still, he was considering other changes to his armor but those thoughts were for later.

Right now they were still in enemy territory.

Technically they owned it but, really, the locals kind of hated them. That the locals also hated each other and were afraid of them was probably the combined reason why they hadn't done anything about their ruling them. Tilting his head to the side slightly, Lorcan eyed the statue before looking away at the symbols.

Symbols... not words, not to him.

"Do those red skinned karkheads insist on using their chicken scratch even when Basic is a thing?" he asked, genuinely bemused, "Fecking hells, these aren't even attempts at actual words. You speak native, boss?"

Just because the Sith Purebloods were about as advanced as mentally stunted Ewoks with egos the size of small moons, didn't mean they were dumb enough to waste time on symbols they didn't need. That weren't for a purpose. Which meant (probably) that the symbols were supposed to be important to the knuckle-draggers.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Stolas poked the statue again just to see if anything would happen. He wouldn't have been surprised if it started moving around and tried to kill them or something but that didn't appear to be the case at least for the moment. His visor dropped to look toward the gilded etchings in the stone and he walked slowly around to get a better view as Lorcan complained about the language.

"They are a traditionalist culture," the Lord said as if that would explain the usage of the language on its own. Purebloods were both relatively isolated and had great pride for their culture and history and generally only some seemed to bother with Basic and its variants. Stolas paused a moment as he realized that may not be the most sufficient explanation.

"These symbols are ancient. I can read them well enough." Gold may not tarnish but they were marred with scratches and the stone surrounding it was clearly worn by footsteps and covered in dust. Minute cracks in the rock around the lustrous metal also showed its age, but it seemed in otherwise good condition. At first he wondered if the words themselves were some kind of code but it was more of a riddle mixed with a history lesson. It specifically mentioned the Drasts, even. Interesting.

Morgan leaned in toward the statue a little, staring intently at it. Gloved fingers ran over the smooth surface and rubbed together.

"Aha. Stand back."

Lorcan had a second's warn before Morgan took one step back, raised a hand toward the statue, and flame shot out from the Darth's fingers briefly to engulf the obsidian structure. It seemed to stick to the surface and bleed into it with a strange luminescence, flaring regularly as if with a slowly quickening heartbeat.

@Nefieslab

 

[Lorcan]

Lorcan sneered underneath his helmet at, what he saw, as confirmation that the Sith Purebloods were so arrogant as to try and insist that their culture, their history, still had relevance. They were living relics as far as he was concerned, an entire race of people who tried desperately to score points in a grand game they lost thousands of years ago.

Their primary achievement, as he saw it, was that they continued to survive.

Cockroaches had fewer lives than these people.

“People should know when to shut up and accept that they’re irrelevant pieces of shrak in the wind.” He countered his boss’ comment about them being traditionalists, “Their sole contribution to the Galaxy as a whole is that you magic users took part of their name. Other than that, they’re worthless.”

They hadn’t done literally anything for literal millennia but they wanted to stand there and claim they were superior? That they had something that made them special? He’d stepped in bantha fodder that was more useful than their entire species. Scowling a little bit, he shook his head but jumped back to avoid the flow of fire from his boss.

He eyed the statue as it seemed to drink in the flames.

“… fancy.” He acknowledged, head tilted to one side slightly, “Think I prefer it better on fire actually. Looks like modern art – want we should take it as an ornament for your apartment, boss?”

Lorcan could see it really being a statement piece in the corner of some big posh penthouse.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

From a practical standpoint at least Morgan couldn't exactly disagree with Lorcan's rude assessment of the Purebloods. Much like the people of Dathomir they stuck to their old ways, but the most galactically significant ways their traditions lived on were through the Sith themselves. Long ago they'd been dragged out of the proverbial mud as part of a grander empire and had done nothing at all since with their dustball of a planet.

But the ruins were nice and it was a historically relevant place where many old Sith kept knowledge or artifacts. So there was that.

"Something like that. It is certainly well made."

Meanwhile, the black statue in the center. It drank heavily of the fire and glowed from within, the heat reveals shapes reminiscent of bones, then muscle beneath the surface. Stolas drew back his power after a few seconds and took a deep breath, eyes locked on the object. The heat inside seemed to grow and spread on its own from there until finally it reached the blank eyes.

They lit up without warning into a bright and furious gold, slivers of black at their centers within as pupils narrowed to feral slits. From where it's mouth would be ripped a loud and animalistic growling that was immediately returned by the masked Stolas, knees bending slightly in anticipation of a fight.

The statue launched forward toward Stolas with heavy footsteps and he swung the spear around to meet it, the blow caught on an arm as it moved it. The two figures impacted heavily in the middle in a bout of furious snarling and clawing fingers, the spear knocked to the side as they began a chaotic melee.

@Nefieslab

 

[Lorcan]

Well made was sort of an understatement but it was the kind that Lorcan expected from Stolas at this point. Something could be absolutely brilliant but if it didn’t spark joy in the Sith, it would get damned with faint praise. It was something he actually rather enjoyed about serving with the guy now that he thought about it a little more. Lorcan was considering dragging the thing out of the stuffy tomb place for his own apartment at this rate.

Of course then it seemed to pulse with the energy that Stolas had pumped into it and Lorcan had a nasty feeling that he was going to be getting into a fight with a statue any second.

“What is it with you Force users and animating things that shouldn’t be animated?” he growled ever so slightly as he readied his blaster pistol, “In future I’m going to bring more detonite charges and I’m blowing holes through walls instead.”

He could see what the statue was going for here and, to a slightly lesser extent, he could see what Stolas was going for as well. This looked like one of those "honorable combat" situations, like the boss was supposed to beat an unyielding foe to prove his worth. Lorcan had standing orders to protect the boss and kill his enemies.

No one said shrak about being honorable about it.

Good thing about fighting a moving statue was that it didn't care for vitals the same way as a human did because it didn't have them. As it rushed at Stolas and the Sith Lord engaged it head on, Lorcan moved round to behind the statue before leaping onto its back, latching on with an arm around its neck. The statue couldn't choke so it wouldn't care too much he imagined but he couldn't believe it wouldn't care when he shoved his blaster pistol into where its kidney should be before blasting three times with the heavy blaster.

 

[Darth Stolas]

Truth be told Morgan wasn't going to complain about a few more explosive-related routes to problem solving. This challenge was designed to be taken on by a single Sith with the understanding that they wouldn't have others to bring along at the same time to take such an item as the gauntlet Stolas was after. As luck would have it the young Lord, while he did have his own strange sense of honour, didn't consider that much when he was in combat.

No such thing as a fair fight!

Stolas and the statue clashed and the firrerreo skidded back, the heat glowing in the statue's arms scorching the cloth and armour of his clothes and through to the skin beneath. Obsidian snarled and he snarled back in reply, both fighting to gain leverage over the other in the grapple. The figure was physically stronger than Stolas even with the Dark quickening to strengthen his limbs further, pushing him another step back before he was able to lock himself in place as both tried to lock out the arms of the other and take control.

The stalemate was quickly broken by Lorcan rushing in and leaping on it's back, the sudden weight throwing it off a little. It seemed to determined to ignore the bloodthirsty man until he started unloading heavy bolts into it, digging deeper and deeper into the energy-resistant statue and and breaking its focus. It roared defiance and reached a burning arm right arm up and behind itself to try get a hold on Lorcan and Morgan went for it immediately.

With his left he bound the statue's grasping left hand to his torso while the right swung up and around, stepping back and pivoting left to yank it forward and lock the limb out straight, boot planting on the instep to throw it off balance. Hopefully Lorcan could keep his hold. Morgan's forearm, just behind the elbow, pressed down while his other kept it's hold on the forearm, waist twisting and weight baring down to the sound of straining stone.

In the new awkward position it could neither properly grasp Lorcan nor strike Morgan, although the Darth's vambraces and chest armour were burning and smoking from the heat in the statue's arms.

"Keep firing!"

@Nefieslab

 

[Lorcan]

Thank the maker of the armor that they had thought to put in layers to protect against the elements... oh wait, that had been him. Thank fecking hells for his own paranoia and need to stuff every piece of useful tech he could onto his person. Without it, things would have been getting a little bit too hot for comfort. He was, quite literally, playing the part of a limpet right now with the karking robot/not robot/statue thing.

The locals probably had a name for it that he'd have to fellate a knife in order to pronounce properly.

Of course it didn't want to die or whatever so it was wriggling around and kicking like a gods damned mule. Grunting in annoyance he brought his blaster pistol up. Clinging on with his arm around its neck for dear life, he pressed the barrel of his pistol right up against the side of it's temple.

Did human vitals mean anything to a living dead statue? Karked if he knew and karked if he cared.

"Fall down and stay down, you overgrown shite tip of karking rubble!"

He firing, blasting the side of the creature's head once with enough force to shatter the side of it's head. Several chunks of stone shot out like shrapnel but his helmet kept them from impacting his face as Lorcan pulled the trigger again and again, blasting apart more and more of it's head with each shot. It didn't take five shots to fully decapitate the statue, or rather it wouldn't have needed that many had he gone for the neck, but with five shots he finally blasted clear through its head, leaving it with only its bottom jaw attached.

Lorcan rocked the statue with his bodyweight.

"Fall down and die you dense motherfecking piece of Red Wanking Sith bullshit! Dead means dead ya gobshite!"

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Despite the heat against his arms Morgan pulled and twisted the limb in his grasp even harder, really putting his inhuman strength and tolerance for pain to work. He'd been burned far worse and for far longer before now, this was next to nothing in comparison.

Lorcan fired repeated shots into the statue's head, crumbling it to nothing. That seemed to stagger or disrupt it somehow and the strength behind the stone arm faltered. Stolas yanked hard by twisting his torso and pushed down with his other forearm, leg shooting out to make it fall to the floor with Lorcan atop it. He pulled harder, the stone limb cracking and then tearing away from the rest of the body as Morgan found even better leverage.

Instantly he was back on it, the arm swinging around to crack into the shattered head twice with strength further empowered by the Force, shards from the broken head and the arm send flying with the sound of breaking volcanic glass. Within the depths of the head was a tiny gold figurine etched with symbols and shapes that fell out as well.

With the loss of what was its animating focus the entire statue twitched, as if in the throes of death, and at last lay still. Morgan irritably tossed the improved limb-weapon aside, forearms and glove smoking from the heat, and leaned over to retrieve the figurine in his unburnt hand.

"How interesting," he mused aloud, turning it over between his fingers. His visor turned to Lorcan. "Excellent work."

@Nefieslab

 

[Lorcan]

Blasting away at a living statue was not his idea of a fun time but he couldn’t help the grim satisfaction that came from seeing the demented thing literally shattering under his blaster shots. The only way it could have been better, to his mind, was if the damned thing had managed to bleed – he would have paid to watch this thing bleed given how much trouble it had given them.

Still, the statue was toppled and Lorcan rolled free of it with a huff. On instinct alone he started to reload his blaster pistol, wanting to make sure that he had the weapon’s full capacity available for use at a moment’s notice.

Apparently a good blaster at your side could help in “Matters of the Force” despite what the purists probably thought.

“No worries boss.” He declared with a nod, kicking some of the stone away as he did so, “Bugger deserved it and you pay me well to make sure you live through your misadventures. Biggun didn’t like that and I took exception to that.”

He had definitely gotten a little bit emotionally involved at the end, actual, genuinely, angry that the creature hadn’t been killed as quickly as he wanted. That it had also burned and coated some of his armor with dust was annoying as well. With his blaster pistol all loaded up, he eyed the Sith with a critical eye for a moment.

“You alright, boss?” he asked, not gently but not without care, “He put up a bit of a fight – you need some time just say the word.”

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Stolas slowly inhaled and just as steadily exhaled before the tiny figurine to a belt pouch for later study. His visor next moved to his burned arms, grimacing slightly behind his helmet as he stood. What lay beneath the vambraces wasn't too bad but his hand would take longer to recover from the heat.

"A brief pause, then," he affirmed, pulling off his burned gloves and retrieving bacta bandages from a belt pouch to wrap it in temporarily. They should help speed things along and prevent further damage. With care he wrapped them around and over his hand while looking around the chamber. It seemed to have no exit but, of course, that couldn't be the case.

Black boots took him back to the center where the obsidian statue had stood, staring down at the pedestal. A soft chuckle escaped the helmet as he bent down close to it in order to get a better look. Symbols and etching existed even where it had been, but one of them appeared to be missing a piece. A piece that resembled a small humanoid figure.

Stolas finished wrapping his hand, flexing it slightly to rest what he'd done, and took the tiny figure back out. He suspected he wasn't going to get it back, but oh well. With his left hand he placed it into the intend in the floor.

Without warning the entire room shuddered and then the walls began to rotate and shift with the sound of scraping stone on stone. The way they'd come was shut and the hole where the doorway had been turned instead to face a set of black hewn stairs of otherwise ordinary make. Glass lanterns along the wall of the stairway lit in sequence as the room locked into place.

"How very dramatic," he mused aloud. His injured hand rose to check on it again before he shrugged a little and moved to walk down the stairs.

@Nefieslab

 

[Lorcan]

Lorcan didn’t think that Stolas was in any position to decry anyone, or any tomb, as being either dramatic or theatrical. The man was the definition of dramatic AF as far as Lorcan was concerned and he’d not seen all that much to prove him otherwise. Sure, he wasn’t quite as outgoing as he liked to pretend but still.

If that wasn’t the kettle calling the pot black.

Difference was that Lorcan tended to benefit from Stolas’ own brand of dramatics so…

“Right you are boss – dramatic AF.” He agreed verbally with a small smirk underneath his helmet, “I’ll make sure to tell any of the base commanders in Sith space that we don’t want rotating room doors – too much.”

And it was; far too much just to show off a flight of stairs.

Sith Purebloods were an over the top species that much could no longer be denied. Lorcan made another mental note to try and avoid working with them in the future. If they were this bloody stupid it would be reasonable to expect that their idea of military tactics included “charging the enemy with melee weapons is a great idea”.

He was quickly coming to the conclusion that he was Done with Korriban or Moraband or Sithibad or whatever the kark they called this, particular, tomb-riddled piece of shrak floating in space. Still, he pushed himself forward to go ahead of Stolas down the stairs.

“Let me boss.”

He was currently being paid to be a bodyguard/meat shield after all.

Descending the steps, he had to resist the urge to roll his eyes as the sound of drums began to grow the deeper they went into the ground. This far down there was a dampness to the air that had not been present on the surface, likely the result of an underground water source. Finally, Lorcan stepped down onto smooth obsidian stone.

Finding himself in a massive, circular, room was not a surprise. Equally unsurprising was the pedestal in the middle of the room with a large, clear, pyramid holding the gauntlet things that Stolas was here for. Attached to the pyramid were three corpses of Sith long since dead, hands touching the pyramid – it looked like they’d been petrified where they had stood.

Lorcan sighed.

“Another challenge, circle, boss.” He said even as he flicked the safety off his pistol, muttering to himself, “What’s wrong with a karking safe? All these blood karking puzzles and guardians…”

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Morgan rather liked to think he had a fair balance of flair and practicality in the way he handled things. It was after all a typical aesthetic of the people in and around the Pacanth Reach where he was originally from. In this case, rotating an entire room to access some stairs? Obviously meant to foster a sense of wonder and anticipation, or something similar.

Now if the entire room had actually been an elevator, that he would have appreciated. Just seemed half-done all things considered.

"Would prefer a lift," Stolas replied dryly to Lorcan's commentary. How was it they could animate a statue and not move a bit of rock up and down? Really.

But moving on. Stolas let Lorcan take the front without complaint, briefly checking on his burns again on the way down the steps. Even the most minor would take some time simply because of the nature of these kinds of injuries. The increased dampness in the air drew his attention away from his hand, the sensation both oddly nostalgic and irritating. Morgan was beginning to wonder if the Purebloods still knew how to use the kinds of magic that brought this underground place to life and, if so, why they only had a simple well in their holy village.

There was also the sound of drums echoing in the deep, a wry expression crossing the Darth's face behind his helmet. He heard Lorcan announce that it was yet another circular challenge room and followed onto the black flooring behind him. The black visor looked around the room and took in the various details.

In the center was what he was actually here for surrounded by signs that it should not be touched. Not actual signs but the corpses were literally a dead giveaway, each turned to stone before the crystal pyramid. Wonderful.

Without a word Morgan hefted the alchemical obsidian-tipped spear and chucked it at the pyramid. Even if it simply shattered the real gauntlet he was after would easily survive even explosives.

@Nefieslab

 

[Lorcan]

Another day working with the Sith, another day wondering if any of them actually did anything in a way that WASN'T needlessly complicated. Again, his mind wandered to what could possibly be wrong with a Force-Damned safe with a series of locks. For real, it was good enough for the majority of the physical credits in the Galaxy but not good enough for a pair of shiny gauntlets?

Stolas, at least, proved himself better.

"A lift would be so much better." he agreed, "Do these gauntlets need you to prove you didn't skip leg day or some shite? Seriously."

Neither of them had though because they both liked having thighs strong enough to crush a dude's head. Also being able to run the kark away was a skill that should never be underrated. Sure it wasn't 'cool' to admit but sometimes it was the best option and having it not be an option because you got winded taking a flight of stairs just meant you'd die a really shitty death.

Looking around the room as he was, Lorcan almost missed it when ash and fire seemed to explode into being to the immediate right of the pryamid. Swirling with Dark Side energy, the ash and fire coiled into the shape of a hand, which caught the spear just before it could impact the pyramid. From the hand, more ash and fire grew into the shape of an armored man's upper torso.

"Foolish little boy and his minion..."

The voice was rough, as though its entire throat had been burned by its own flames. Lorcan raised an eyebrow underneath his helmet as the specter spun the spear with practiced ease.

"You are not worthy to-"

A blast rang out as Lorcan fired his blaster, the bolt blasting apart the ash and fire that made up the specter's jaw. It reformed less than a second later but it did a good job of interrupting him.

"Oh just shut the kark up and make with the stabbing attempts you lung-cancer wannabee bitch."

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

An ethereal arm appeared to halt the thrown in spear in mid-air which on its own gave Stolas the idea the pyramid may have shattered. That or the spectre that formed was putting on a show of things. He supposed it could also be both.

It twirled the spear and spoke before being promptly interrupted by a shot from Lorcan. This was the correct thing to do to people giving grand warning speeches as far as Morgan was concerned, although he was shortly after disappointed as it simply reformed itself. Morgan's eyes narrowed at it from behind his dark visor, his Sight focusing on the spectre in an attempt to see what it might be connected to. It was going to take a little time with the way the Dark Side was soaked into everything.

But he could make an educated guess in the meantime.

"Shatter the pyramid," Stolas ordered, then began to mutter some chant in Sith under his breath. The Dark side gathered in him and began to form a lattice of crimson threads, woven and stretched between his fingers. He retained direct eye contact with the spectre, watching its every move carefully.

@Nefieslab

 

[Lorcan]

All these theatrics were going to be the death of him – and only a people as dramatic af as the Sith Purebloods could be so karking obsessive to try and make that literal. The only reason for this ‘wraith’ bullshit, as far as he could see, was to make a show of it all. If they had the magical powers to create a guardian why the kark had they made it of ash and fire?

Hadn’t they literally just shown that they could use stone just fine like, a room ago?

Yes, which meant they had chosen fire and ash to be dramatic.

He wasn’t surprised by the deduction, just disappointed.

At the orders from Stolas, Lorcan eyed the corpses all touching the pyramid before shrugging a little bit.

“On it boss.”

The spectre seemed to take issue with this as it lashed out with a whip made entirely out of flames blackened with the Dark Side. At least he assumed it was the Dark Side – he didn’t know enough about the weird magic shrak to comment. It was coming at both himself and Stolas horizontally so Lorcan threw himself into a forward roll, diving underneath the attack and moving closer to the objective at the same time.

Popping up out of the roll, he fired two shots into the pyramid from the side, finding both shots hit without budging the pyramid.

“FOOLS. THE PYRAMID CANNOT BE DESTROYED BY YOUR WEAPONS – IT WILL TAKE YOUR FORCE FOR ITS OWN.”

… neat.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Flames. Of course more heat. The black whip launched forward and Stolas suddenly dropped almost to a seated position, twisting to the floor and ducking down under it as a leg slid him forward and under the attack before he rose back to his feet, ominous muttering continuing. Two bolts struck the pyramid and promptly absolutely nothing happened.

Other than the spectre offering some exposition. Well if it was going to give hints Morgan wasn't going to complain, golden eyes behind his visor eyeing the spear in the ash-ghost's hand when it mentioned 'your' weapons. Could've just been coincidental wordage but it had also prevented impact. Step two, then.

Crackling crimson strands that stretched between the Darth's fingers flashed and flared as he spoke and finished his muttering with a declarative statement in Sith about binding threads and fate typical of ancient incantation.

His hand shot forward and the threads exploded out toward the spectre interwoven into a Force net, woven into a glowing lattice that could entrap even spirits. It was also imperfect, something he'd only recently been able to use with any practical speed in actual combat, but being fully bound by it still wouldn't be pleasant for the victim. If successful the spectre would be wrapped in the threads connected to Morgan's hand and wracked with Dark energies in the hopes of disrupting either its focus or perhaps its form entirely.

And maybe even drop that spear.

@Nefieslab

 

[Lorcan]

Damn... boss man was flexible.

Whatever, not for him to concern himself with.

He had his own job to do and it involved breaking the hell out of a presumably priceless antique that dated back to before people seemed to have developed normal karking locks and doors and shrak. Probably belonged in a museum somewhere or something, Lorcan didn't know and he didn't have to know. All he had to know was that he was charged with smashing it to pieces and he would do so with gusto.

After traipsing down all them karking stairs, he felt like he had earned a little bit of petty vandalism.

Shooting it didn't work but the specter did give him an idea that was just dumb enough to work... maybe.

If it didn't he wouldn't really live long enough to give a kark so why not eh? As the specter was ensnared in the netting that Stolas had thrown over it (weird that the Sith had a spell to make magical fishnets but ok, sure), Lorcan bolted forward without a moment's hesitation, grabbing the pyramid off of its pedestal.

Despite its pain, the specter laughed as Lorcan grabbed up the pyramid.

"NOW YOU SHALL GIVE YOUR STRENGTH IN THE FORCE TO ME AS THOSE PITEOUS SIMPLETONS DID LONG AGO!"

... apparently it was expecting a power boost and for Lorcan to be drained of his life but Lorcan didn't feel any different. Shrugging, he smashed the pyramid of her armored knees before tossing the now-freed gauntlets to Stolas.

"Shut it up, would you boss?"

The specter did its best approximation of gaping at Lorcan - apparently finding it impossible to believe that it wasn't able to 'drain his strength in the Force'. Probably because it didn't consider, even for a moment, that a non-Force Sensitive was responsible for smashing the pyramid.

Oh well, too bad, so sad.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Stolas' net made contact with the spectre and bound it in a web of of the crackling lines of energy. His face was set in concentration behind the dark visor, the technique a more difficult one to maintain with his limited experience using it on the fly outside more controlled conditions, but he made it work long enough for Lorcan to do whatever it was he was trying next.

The spectre laughed and taunted as the auxiliary rushed to the pyramid and plucked it from its pedestal, announcing he would be drained dry just as the others were. Then very suddenly, nothing at all happened. Even through his concentration Morgan was more than a little amused by this turn of events, chuckling darkly at the ghost's expense.

Lorcan broke the pyramidal container and threw the gauntlet within toward Stolas and none too soon, already feeling his ability to maintain the Force net waning. With a loud snap he disconnected the threads from his fingers and reached up to catch the gauntlet and quickly shove it on over his healing right arm, flexed his fingers experimentally, and looked at the spectre now wriggling itself free of the fading strands.

"I think I will."

He shot forward toward the spectre who launched another wave of black flame. Morgan's right hand came forward and the fire folded and twisted into the lines of the gauntlet, crimson stones beginning to glow with power. Gloved and bandaged fingers closed like iron bands around the spindly, skeletal neck of the spirit and the gems glowed brighter, absorbing the heat and energy of its existence into itself just as it had the rest.

Stolas squeezed tightly and its form flickered, then popped as whatever kept its form intact was shattered. Ash collapsed impotently to the ground while the spear clattered into the black pile. The young Lord could feel the gathered energy in the item and moved his right hand off to the side to let it out, although without any real practice it simply took the form of a mass of black flame that scorched the stone ground and part of the wall. He examined the gauntlet curiously.

Likely he would need some practice with it. After a few seconds he turned to look at Lorcan again.

"I think you've earned your job bonus," he commented in a tone that was both pleased and amused. "Gather up what you reasonably can from that pyramid. Doubt it works it pieces, but worth study."

@Nefieslab

 

[Lorcan]

Well...

"Neat."

He chuckled a little bit as he reacted to Stolas' takedown of the ancient spirit. It was some kind of sight that was for sure but he wasn't really a big fan of fireworks, spiritually created or not. The thing they had come to collect (was it a glove or a gauntlet?) was impressive enough that he wasn't going to pitch a fit about the fact that they'd gone after it, at least. Damned thing looked like some edgelord teenager had designed it in his parents basement though.

Probably why it fit in so well with the aesthetic of the Pureblood Sith around here.

Lorcan nodded in acknowledgement of the order as he started grabbing parts of the pyramid. He wasn't all that impressed with the damn thing, really, but he supposed the boss might want it. The bodies around the thing had proven that it was deadly... somehow. He wasn't sure HOW it was deadly since he'd just smacked the damned thing and nothing had happened to him.

"Boss you know just what to say to spoil a man." he grinned behind his helmet as he finished collecting the shards before kicking one of the dried up husks away from the pedestal, "How's the fit then, boss?"

It looked like it fit like a... gauntlet? Yeah, no that didn't work since it was definitely a gauntlet.

"You know... there's been far more treasure hunting as a Sith contractor than there was as a PI or a merc. Think we're gonna get a chance to do more in the future, boss? Matching boots or some shrak? Emperor Palpatine's pimp-cane next?"

@Mr. Teatime