Imperial Mission: Korriban Zombies

[Blueberrypie]

Spoiler: Info

OOC:
I couldn't help myself. I had to have my Kelric practice Intapas, lol.
Anyway, with this we're off. People can leap in as they're accepted and shizzle. I'm hoping for Insanity to give us hell. (Average difficulty, tho!!)

The sun of Korriban was ablaze with putrid hatred as it glared down at Kelric's towering figure, coating his dark form in a layer of ""unbearable..." heat. There was no breeze of relief, nor shade of shelter to be had with the glowering eye in the sky. As far as the acolyte was concerned, he could find naught of interest in his vicinity, which was covered in dust, sand and shriveling fauna. His smoldering gaze had seen nothing but gargantuan mountains in the east, their color a boring orange that reminded of rust. What was of importance lay ahead of him; the Valley of the Dark Lords. The students whom had gone missing had activated a distress beacon somewhere ahead, and he was yet to determine the exact location of said beacon. He'd arrived a days' time before the others, so he could discern the situation and scout ahead... A fool's errand, he had realized upon arrival. It would be wise of him to wait and bide his time, as a group of four pupils had gone missing. He was but one, and they had been well-versed with the dangers of these lands.

Kelric's forehead was slick with sweat where he stood, his poised form ready for action; filled to the brink with dark energies. It was odd to stand so close to ancient history and feel its warped presence through the Force. The Valley's aura was euphoric, immersed with the secrets that he so desired. As his mental faculties whirred, reflecting upon the Valley of the Dark Lords, he was given an idea. Intapas, the inverted form of Tapas was exactly what he needed in these kind of situations, and he had all the time in the world. After all, the others wouldn't arrive until the sun had lulled itself to sleep, and so woken.

As Kelric exhaled, he exuded the tiniest bit of his vitality, naught but a drop or two from his ever-expanding well in the Force; a coveted resource that brought support and prowess in his times of need. He liked to think of it as so, a well filled with his strength and health. By drinking from it he found exhaustion, yet, it dried his parching throat. Some time went by as he shaped the energy he'd formed, manipulating it as he saw fit; finding desirable ways to change reality. After an hour passed, he was left with a grim expression, his mind stifled with a plethora of uncontrollable, dark emotions. The most prominent ones were frustration, and a possessive need to succeed. The others would arrive in a day or so, giving him time to unravel some of the technique's secrets. It was all about control and proper application, after all.

Above, the sun shone.

 

[TheAccidentof1994]

*Seven hours later*

Beneath a moving speeder on the planet of Korriban the orange sand that trademarked the notorious world held resemblance to a small dust storm, leaving a contrail some kilometres behind the Sith as evidence to his travel. In the sky, the Sun burned as it ever did; however Walter was not subject to the blistering heat just yet for his speeder provided sufficient breeze and as he traversed the dry terrain he allowed himself a small moment of gratitude.

Although it was shortly lived, for it seemed just moments afterwards the ground began to slope downwards and through his own perception Walter understood that the slope was soon to grow steeper, no doubt this was the entrance, or rather one of the many entrances into The Valley of the Sith Lords. He kicked the speeder into overdrive for just a short while, though he endorsed patience he had been travelling for quite awhile and the urge to ask "Are We There Yet?" is in all of us. In the pit of his stomach he felt an anti-gravitational sensation, similar to the feeling he would experience during the take-off of a ship.

The land was baron and void of any presence, it was trivial to isolate the only force user close by; he was just about half a klick ahead of him and so he pulled the speeder into low gear so that he may prepare to stop. At slow speed he found it easy to navigate through the various pieces of debris and old ruins that became more and more frequent within the valley. Carefully he pulled up next to Kelric, though Walter did not know his name.

He lingered for a moment on his speeder, taking in the image of Kelric. Certainly he was far more adept than the Acolytes he had thus far been exposed to, he was not feeble, and from his stance and composure he understood manhood; perhaps even honour. Though the last two were hard to judge, even if he did search the Acolyte's feelings; he dismounted the speeder allowing it to grumble to a stop and he covered the distance of just two steps to make it in conversational range of the Acolyte, nodding his head in an introductory and respectful manner, he spoke...

"Afternoon. I am Walter, what should I call you?"

As usual, his voice was empty, devoid of emotion; almost unused, the voice of one who did not speak much only through necessity.

 

[Blueberrypie]

Kelric's dark figure was brooding, filled with smoldering emotions where he stood, wrapped in robes of violet. The sun had reached its zenith an hour ago or so, but its unbearable heat had expired the moment he'd woven the weave of Intapas. "Success." Kelric rolled the word on his tongue, savoring the satisfactory taste of accomplishment and definitive proof of "Progression." It was a step further, and it felt good.

Unraveling his techniques, he halted his channeling of the Force, choosing instead to partake in some refreshments to revitalize himself. Five hours had passed, and Kelric was yet to know where the distress beacon's signal originated from. Upon arrival, he had activated a scanner and found some notion of success, but the signal had been put through a scrambler and sealed with a simple encryption. Kelric had never been any computer whiz, but decoding this thing was possible... Given enough time. It wasn't unusual for professional archaeologists or operating scavengers to use such an inefficient (but secure) system. The students were in likelyhood trusted friends whom functioned well as a group; if one of them were in trouble, they would active their signal and wait for rescue. It was a wise arrangement, as people in their profession couldn't take any chances when it came to outsiders.

As the acolyte ate and worked on the code, he couldn't help but meditate on the dark side and draw upon its euphoric essence. It oiled the gears of his mind and whispered sweetly in his ear, giving nudges and small snippets of advice when he was in need. He was certain that the others would come soon, as he could sense their impending arrival. So he continued his work as efficiently as he could, so there would be no delays.

Two hours passed.

Kelric was standing, gazing intensively into the distance as the sounds of a swoop approached him. With his senses sharpened by acute use of the Force, he could barely discern the robed creature ahead of him. A storm of dust was created as the Sith sped across the desolate wasteland, swinging hither and thereafter tither to avoid columns and rubble. The color of blue was painted into into the rider's skin, which was marred by scars and wounds one carried for a life. Yes, it was a Feeorin he'd be dealing with; one of ferocious strength.

At last, the man's speeder slowed down, to then come to a halt several feet from the acolyte. Kelric's expression blackened in response, as what had entered the Valley of the Dark Lords was a construct of bulging muscles and whirring machinery. The man exuded a sense of strength and unyielding relentlessness. "Afternoon. I am Walter, what should I call you?" Walter's empty voice gnawed at Kelric, clawing at his core with fingers of rot and a tone of frozen apathy. "It's a pleasure, and I believe Kelric should suffice. Here." With a barotone cast to his voice, the young acolyte bobbed his head in response to the Crusader, throwing him the datapad that was in his hand. "The distress beacon's signal is one click from here, to the East." Walter might be a frightening sight with his prosthetic limb, missing orb and scarred body, but Kelric had seen something in the man's remaining eye. It was a spark of life that contradicted the emotionless voice, a proper light that wasn't filled with malice. Or, well... That was still left to be seen. "As you can see on that pad, we'll be heading into the mountains, down in what I presume to be a looted crypt. I haven't figured out who was buried there, or if the tomb is of any standing importance whatsoever... What's your thoughts?" Walter had struck Kelric as a man whom didn't care a lot for idle chatter, so he went straight to business.

 

[TheAccidentof1994]

Walter caught the datapad, appreciating the man's ability to jump straight into business. He flicked through the information, half taking in the information and half listening to Kelric's introduction and his summary there after.

"The mountains?" He asked, looking at Kelric and then taking a moment to look around for them "Fair enough. My thoughts - We go into the mountains."

He stared at him in all seriousness, handing rather than tossing the datapad back to the young man. It was late afternoon now, and though Walter would have preferred to move directly into the mountains and address this distress beacon, he had travelled a long way, he was weary and facing a potential threat during the night and in a state of fatigue was inadvisable.

"I'll rest for the night. I understand we have a duty to those lost in the mountains, but the distress signal was several days ago now... I do not think they are still alive, Kelric."

Of course the Acolyte was welcome to move ahead, Walter would follow in due time. But it seemed the boy was prepared to wait several days for anyone else to arrive, a few hours sleep would not do much to differ the mission from its original course.

 

[Blueberrypie]

Kelric accepted the datapad without further ado, switching it off with a few clicks and beeps as Walter spoke. "I'll rest for the night. I understand we have a duty to those lost in the mountains, but the distress signal was several days ago now... I do not think they are still alive, Kelric." One could always hope that someone was alive, but wishful thinking wouldn't get him anywhere. Kelric surmised some years ago that he would become number to situations like these over time. Care less about the outcome and people involved, as long as the job was done. He had been right. As it was, there was nothing he could do, and it would be foolhardy to continue on alone. With a deep sight, he gestured in the direction of his supples, which consisted of canned food and bottled water. "Take what you need, I have more onboard my speeder." Kelric himself had eaten recently and was in no need for refreshments. "As for those that are missing, I can't help but agree. I've seen no signs of activity, nor has the scanners picked anything of note." This wasn't a rescue mission anymore, so he wasn't abandoning anyone. Really, he wasn't. Getting lost in the Valley of the Dark Lords was a death sentence, even for a powerful Sith with a plethora of experience.

Kelric turned away from the unnerving figure of Walter, hiding a black expression as he voiced himself. "The sun is setting, and I would be a fool to go by myself. We'll do as you say and continue this expedition of ours in the morning, as the sun dawns on us." As he said this, he couldn't help but shudder as a ball of guilt gnawed at his core, telling him that he was sentencing people to death. Someone whom needed and depended on his capabilities. What selfish desires...

 

[TheAccidentof1994]

Walter sensed how uneasy the Acolyte was feeling, Walter himself felt a tinge of guilt, but it was a more an affliction to his honour rather than to his moral conscience. He firmly believed then when banded together the Sith were powerful, but there were times where sacrifice was necessary.

"Remember, Kelric. We're Sith; and while I don't doubt we each have our own code, we're still tied to the Sith Code as well. Honour bound. If I could rescue the Acolytes I would. But you mustn't forget, as a Sith weakness if punishable by death."

He leaned his back against his swoop bike and slowly descended towards the ground, allowing his feet to move outwards so that he would be sitting with his legs outstretched and his back supported by his vehicle, in the shade from the now weakening sun.

"I find your guilt to be far to homely. Remember where you are; it does not bother me. But these feelings in the presence of a more traditional Sith would not do you well. Learn to numb yourself to the many tragedies that you will no doubt witness, or I promise you, you will suffer the consequences of your weakness. Whether by your own folly or the hand of another, it is inevitable."

He could not help but allow his thoughts, and vision to stray towards the mountains in the east. He would easily abandon the Acolyte's to torment and death, and while it did pain him to understand this, it made no progress in changing the mind of Walter. He had become unfeeling, neutral and nullified to the what the Sith had shown him. It was just a matter of following orders and growing stronger to make up for a weakness he had once willingly demonstrated in an attempt to cling to life.

Perhaps in death, he spared the Acolyte's the same mistake that he had once made. Perhaps Walter would have elected death if he were to do it all again.

 

[Blueberrypie]

"-or I promise you, you will suffer the consequences of your weakness. Whether by your own folly or the hand of another, it is inevitable."

The acolyte cut a dark and brooding figure where he stood, absorbed in a cloak of thoughts. "Learn to numb yourself..." Walter was right, and he hated him for it. As it was, Kelric was already seething, his countenance twisted into an expression of grim malevolence. "If I could rescue the acolytes, I would." This putrid zeal of contempt changed nothing, it only made it worse! What struck his heart wasn't the fact that he was abandoning these people. No, these crushing waves of emotions was brought forth by the act of embracing this cynical reality. The students were dead. Gone. Destroyed by whatever spirits dwelled in the mountains. Even if anyone was still alive, he wouldn't lift a finger to help them. "It isn't easy." Kelric murmured, hoping it would become so in some god-forsaken, damnable future. No, he knew it would. How else could he sane survive the life of a Sith?

The young man's mind fell even deeper, down into an abyss of meditative introspection where quiet deliberation reigned. He slid a curved hand by the slant of his jaw, feeling the angular outline of his cheekbones. This reality was an ugly one, where one had to face the most despicable truth; there was no escape from this wicked existence, this unforgiving realm! He could not run away, nor try to. Even with solitude and its beautiful silence, where sanctum and the halls of memory could be found, he would never be free of the undesirable traits that chained his tainted soul. At ease, perhaps, but the constricting shackles would never be broken. For they were his emotions.

Sympathy, compassion... Pity. Weakness that dragged him down, halting his progress and constant struggle for development. These feelings of his needed to be doused in apathy and thrown into a bottomless pit. They needed to be reined in... or die. "You've given me a lot to reflect and meditate on, Walter... I will return when the sun dawns on us." He would meditate on the existence of control. Calculated, weighed, measured control. Never again would his passions overrule his faculty of reason. Kelric would attain dominance over his own emotions and desires, so he could channel them with a rational, dispassionate mind. The guilt would be eradicated... Forever.

 

[TheAccidentof1994]

It was easy for Walter to understand as he watched the boy, so calm on the outside, yet inside was a torment not wholly unfamiliar to the Feeorin. It was a learning process, one that anyone went through during their early days as a Sith; or even in life. To be cynical was to be human, but to completely recognize the pain or despair felt by others and elect your own benefit over theirs was to be selfish, to be a Sith.

Walter would let the boy conquer his own thoughts for now, he grew weary of conversation anyhow. He only nodded and allowed the boy to retreat into his own solace, perhaps he would find an answer by day break. If not Walter still expected him to accompany him into the mountains, to kill what had killed the Acolytes, not to save the unfortunate souls.

He remained where he was, it was comfortable enough, and he had slept in worse places. It was cold yes, but he had the force for that. A steady maintenance of warmth through-out he night would be his preparation for the next day, to keep him in sync with his own energy and midicholorians.

Above, the moon loomed.