Ask More Cheer in a Graveyard

[Xohhar K'liir]

Sitting in the pilot seat looking out the transparisteel viewport at the swirling lines of hyperspace, Xohhar absentmindedly leaned forward to switch off the alarm beeping that they would exiting hyperspace soon only to blink when nothing happened and turned to find the pinned sleeve of his coat covering the stump that remained of his right arm hanging impotently with the button far out of reach. Snarling under his breath he reached forward and slapped the button with his left hand far more forcefully than was probably necessary, his rage spiking before being buried behind his shields and a mask of placid calm. He hadn't yet requisitioned a cybernetic replacement for his arm - hadn't tried in truth, his damnable pride unable to take the blow of possibly being refused.

The Falleen acolyte hadn't expected Champion Vossari to call on him so soon after the chaotic mix of success and unmitigated disaster his last mission had become, but the assignment had been there flashing on his datapad this morning: Report to Hangar Bay 10 and bring the waiting shuttle to the following coordinates. There were no other details in the message, and when he'd arrived to the hangar he found a fueled Herald-class Shuttle with a cargo hull packed full of sealed crates waiting for him. Getting the ship out of the hangar with just one hand had been... challenging in many aspects, and it wasn't until he was safely beyond the mists of Umbara that he thought to check where he was actually going.

Plugging the coordinates into the navicomputer, Xohhar's eyes had narrowed at the destination: Boz Pity, the Graveyard World.

He'd had two days to ruminate on what this mission could possibly be about, debating whether he should try breaking into the crates to see what they held before deciding against it. No point in risking angering the Champion further, though a poisonous voice in the back of his mind had softly hissed that there was little chance of angering the man further after his failures on Glee Anselm. Connor had fought the Leviathan and emerged unscathed, Arak - though injured - was some member of the Sith noble caste according to the Academy records the Falleen had sliced and currently receiving the best care the Academy medical center could provide for his broken body, and Nash... she had proven herself a Sith; the photographic evidence of the Leviathan's wounds and how they came to be ensured that.

Meanwhile, Xohhar's contribution to the mission had been to slip and fall unconscious in a pool of sea monster bait, get permanently maimed by said sea monster, and take a holopicture.

Bringing the craft around for an unsteady landing in a clearing between two of the grand mausoleums that covered the surface, Xohhar couldn't decide if it was meant to be poetic irony by the Champion to kill the acolyte on a world where his spirit would be spoiled for choices in a final resting place. Standing and checking his pistol holster - now moved to his left thigh - and sheathing the vibrorapier on his right side where he'd be able to try and draw it across his body with his left hand, Xo let out a shaky breath before steeling himself and walking briskly toward the loading ramp to greet the waiting champion.

If he was truly a dead man walking to his grave, he would meet his end with his head held high at the very least.

"Acolyte Xo and Shuttle Tyrant-089 arriving as ordered, Champion."

@Fine Dining Set

 

[Vossari Khaldun]

Being an academy professor was awesome. You could really just boss around Acolytes and get them to do whatever you wanted, and they had no form of recourse or complaining. The random group assignment he had sent Xohnar and the other Acolytes on was evidence of this. They had an acceptable amount of hospitalizations, and got the job done. Vossari stood clad in his suit of sorcery, Acridia on his ear beneath his helmet, lightsaber openly festooned to his hip.

"I didn't arrange for a shuttle." Was that an Academy perk, too? Just having an organization figure out field trip logistics for you? Man, being an academy professor really was great. "Good work on Glee Anslem, by the way. You took the picture, right?" Nash looked fucking epic in that pic, unleashing a hidden wellspring of Force Power potent enough to send the Sea Leviathan reeling. This development, the potential of his acolyte, was perhaps the most valuable outcome. And with the monster located, he could move into motion the next phase of his plan on Glee Anslem. All-in-all, an absolute win!

He noticed the Acolyte's maimed arm now. "You didn't want to get that fixed before this mission, Acolyte?" Vossari had heard that Arak had gone to the hospital, too. These acolytes and their weak constitutions. One sea monster slaps them around and they all nearly die.

He sighed and waved his hand, to indicate a general disinterest in whatever response the acolyte would have to his question. "It doesn't matter. We're here now. Boz Pity - the Graveyard World!" Vossari said this with far too much glee. But there was a purpose to this excursion: The genocide of the planets inhabitants, and the massacres of troops across galactic battles here in the following years, had created a small but noticeable current of Dark Side energy in the planet. Vossari would weave this darkness into his own form, claim the powers of the planet himself, and make a claim spooky and foreboding enough to scare away potential interlopers.

"Let's go bust some ghosts!" Vossari pointed to a valley filled with the giant bones of the planet's previous inhabitants. Even an acolyte like Xo would feel the magnetic pull of the dark side emanating from that location.

@Rom

 

[Xohhar K'liir]

"Yes I took the pic- well, I wasn't sure if I wou-"

Xohhar barely had a breath to get a word in edge wise, the Wrean Champion speaking fast and flamboyantly as he congratulated the Falleen Acolyte for a job well done on Glee Anselm - and wasn't that a shock for him to hear considering he expected to be killed for his performance - before making a dismissive comment about Xo's missing arm and then sighing it away before gesturing out grandly at the masoleums spanning out to the horizon and a valley filled with bones. Oracle chirped excitedly in Droidspeak from behind him, the ID-21 droid detaching from the plate across the back of his coat and floating up with his antennae extended ready to report on anything paranormal - and was that a song it was beeping the notes too?

Stepping up to follow the droid and stand next to the Champion, Xohhar reached out with the Force and felt the siren call of the dark emanating from the Valley, the mass grave crying out with echoes of those who had died and the brutal manner in which they did it. Adjusting his coat, Xohhar let out a breath and turned to look at Vossari.

"Why Boz Pity?" he asked quietly, curiosity warring with good sense and winning out. "Banks and artifacts, ancient abomiantions and waterworlds - all of that makes sense for a Champion growing his status with new finds and resources. But what are you hoping to find in this lich-yard that the other graverobbers over the millennia hadn't already found?"

@Fine Dining Set

 

[Vossari Khaldun]

Why Boz Pity? It was a good question. Part of the answer lie in its geography - located a stone's throw from his assets on Saleucami, at the edge of space between the Syndicates, it was a strategic outpost in the Outer Rim that he could use to build a fortress. Another was the Dark Side nexus, borne of the countless violence inflicted upon the world. Study of the arcane side of the Force, and the nature of the Dark Side, always made him stronger. But beyond that there was a deeper quest here, a more spiritual search for enlightenment and purpose among the bones of the dead that he could not quite put into words. "You're a curious one, Xo." He didn't turn back to regard him as he pondered a response.

"You're right. At face value, Boz Pity is worthless. But the dead hold secrets, Xohnar, especially for us. That which has been overlooked could be a great source of power." That is, if one looked at it creatively. "The Dark Side is the power of creation itself. For us, even a lifeless, bone-stripped world has value." The valley of the bones lay ahead of them.

The planet was dry, a result of life being stolen from it generations ago. For Vossari to find the Dark Side nexus, though, he needed to be able to tap into his natural element, water. Across the cracked desert valley, Vossari saw a small cactus poking out. It was shriveled, dry, but it lived. Life was yet possible.

"Xo, I hope you're proficient in Terrakinesis." He gestured towards the cactus. "Split the ground beneath this cactus. There must be groundwater here." As Xo did that, Vossari brought his fingers together to sign cast. The elemental sign of water repeated, in between shapes representing the different energies and animals that Vossari drew from. F The snake. The spider. The panther.

For Xo's part, it would be a rather easy task. The soil was loose and pliable, able to be moved by mere telekinesis even if he could not tap into the element of earth. Meanwhile, felt into the heart of the world itself, and, with Xo's help on the terrakinesis, a small water spout would appear, coating the massive bones and sand around them with water. It sprayed Vossari in the face.

"See? Even in the heart of the desert, there is water. Power of creation. We don't merely need to take other people's things, Xo. We can make our own luck, our own destiny, with our power alone."

@Rom

 

[Xohhar K'liir]

"Knowledge is power," the Falleen acolyte said with a shrug, acknowledging the comment about his curiosity before falling silent as the Wrean started speaking about what he hoped to find on the desolate world. His eyes were half closed, the preconceived notions about the nature of the galaxy and the finality of death etched into his mind from before he began training warring with what he could sense as they entered the bone-filled valley.

Whispers of a race long dead, calling - beckoning - for any who could hear to bear witness.

When Vossari gestured toward the cactus and conveyed his hopes that the Falleen was proficient in terrakinesis Xohhar could only blanch; his knowledge was still mostly theoretical, his only direct exposure to manipulating the elemental arts himself had been a short lesson in creating fire. Kneeling down Xo pressed his hand to the earth and reached out with the Force, letting his awareness sink through the soil and his power weave its way around the loose dirt and the pebbles and fragments of bone.

Sinking his senses deeper into the earth, Xo felt his breathing slow as he and rose to his feet before falling jnto a wide stance with his feet firmly planted. Exhaling he lashed out with his will, gripping the Force tightly under his control, and with a stomp and sweep of his foot the earth before him split open like a small canyon just as a spout of water rose up from underground.

Blinking away the water spraying onto his face, Xohhar looked between his feet and the split with wide eyes. "With our own power alone..." he repeated softly, slowly releasing the threads of power he had woven between the earth and himself.

@Fine Dining Set

 

[Vossari Khaldun]

Vossari scrawled arcane runes into the dirt around the water spout, each letter in Ur-Kittat representing a different meaning. Spirit, rain, movement, growth surrounded the sides of the of the runic circle. At the center, just at the water spout, there sat a trifecta of runes: Midwanottoi - Power. Irluuk - Fate. Krataa - Death. With these runes scrawled, Vossari poured the water from the spout into the dirt, freezing the letters into place as he repeated them out loud.

He watched as Xohhar's conceptions about the universe, the galaxy itself, began to change. Such was the power of creation, the power that they were gifted enough to wield. Xoh's curiosity would serve him, as they tread towards the valley. The orb of water floated before them, the once-blue waters mutating to a sickly green coloration. "Pour yourself into this, acolyte. You felt the earth itself. Feel the spirits." Even in the blistering heat of the day, Xoh would feel the cold touch of the grave along his spine. "Feel the Dark Side. The death, the hatred; it all seeps into the ground, the water, the soul of the planet itself. Drink it in. Harness it." Yes, the years of Hutt-inflicted battle still scorched the landscape. The whispers not only of the dead gargantelles poured into the planet, but the suffering trees, forests, insects, and animals, all of which suffered as the Hutts burned the planet to a crisp. Death, repeated over and over, flowed into the acolyte.

Xohhar would need to dig deep, find some power from within, to control the tide of emotion that now poured into him. As Xoh channelled the Dark Side, connecting with the spirit of the world, Vossari connected with the spirit of water. With each breath Xoh took, the water spout fluctuated in size. It grew, and grew, and grew until a torrent of water spilled out, congregating as the start of a waterfall that poured into the valley beneath the canyon they stood at the edge of.

The orb of green, energized water grew, too, as Xoh and Voss spilled their energy into it. It burned and crackled with the Dark Side of this land, coiling into it. "Pour everything into this, acolyte."

@Rom

 

[Xohhar K'liir]

Xohhar was distracted by the flow of power between the Wrean Champion and the runes he was scrawling into the dirt as the water flowed and froze over them - while he had no understanding of the language written, the Falleen could feel the power flowing off of them - creation and destruction, life and death brought forth by the Champion's hand... and his own. He followed Vossari as they walked deeper into the valley, examining the globe of water as it began to take on an almost acidic green color with both his eyes and the Force - he didn't have words for the energy the Champion was manipulating and flowing into their hard-earned desert water, but he could feel its' potency.

'Spirits...' he thought to himself, for once dismissing the voice of reason and logic that he'd spent his whole life listening to and allowed himself to simply feel. Taking a deep breath, Xoh turned the Wrean's words over in his mind; trying without success to figure out how to pour himself into the vast energies he could sense responding to Vossari's will. He grit his teeth in growing anger, bruised pride and self doubt and rage about his ability to master the ways of the Force and keep up with his fellow Acolytes burning like coals within his chest. He fanned the embers, trying to bridge the gap between himself and the great unknown that lay just beyond his reach. And in that moment, he did something that - perhaps - was more foolish than anything else he'd ever attempted with the Force.

Instead of pouring himself out into the energy of the world, he opened himself and invited it in.

It was like opening the door a crack only for it to be blown in by a sudden gale; his mind suddenly grasped by the spirit of a dead world - a thousand thousand and more beings that had lived and died victims of a Hutt genocide, famine, disease, or the inexorable march of time channeling through him. The Falleen Acolyte collapsed like a puppet with it's strings cut, falling to his knees as pain wracked his body and a power he couldn't fathom ripped through his mind. For a moment he flailed, his mind rebelling against the multitudes he could sense, and he nearly surrendered to the feeling of helplessness lashing through his mind. He was never enough, never strong enough... The Leviathan on Glee Anselm. The Abominations of Utapau. The murder of his father and siblings.

And with their memory came rage. The embers in his chest burst into roaring flames, his anger and hatred and pain whipping through him like a tempest and burning away the grasping tendrils of death that sought to bind him. He snarled and forced himself to his feet, his only hand curled into a claw as he reached out with the Force and wrenched the font of power he'd opened himself to up and through, making himself a channel for the power they'd called upon. Like a dam collapsing the blocks he had placed upon himself were torn asunder and the pooling power flowed out of him and toward the crackling orb and threads of power that Vossari was weaving.

@Fine Dining Set