Lost Expedition - [Oricon]

[Harukei]

Space folded and flickered in that brief instance. What was the tranquil sea, peppered by a myriad of stars was disrupted in that very moment, as from the distance a white dagger shaped silhouette materialized almost out of tin air. It carried on, soon joined by its brethren of the same shape but of lesser size. The formation of five ships began the slow, methodical advance as sensors and communication devices brought whatever information could be found. Whatever information could be deemed as useful. 

"Captain Zellos?" The voice of an Ensign called him off his day dreaming. Zellos turned to face the young Mirilian at the station. 

"What is now?" The Captain said with a gruff tone. "Any luck making contact?"

"No, sir, it's just static and a single garbled message repeating over and over."

Zellos stood as the audio signal repeated itself, the white noise and distant cacophony of blasts or eruptions and the same message that had been broadcast before. The Way is Shut. The old human male gulped as the transmission returned once more to its garbled state, his green eyes staring down at the information displayed on the Ensign's console as it finally went silent, at least for some merciful sixty seconds before began anew. 

He turned and now saw the volcanic moon of Oricon through the view port of bridge and stood was hands behind his back as the seemingly accursed moon grow larger and larger by the second. 

"Send for Lady Keres, tell her we have arrived." 

---

A soft blue lambent intertwined with the darkness. Flames of an opaque blue and celestial color burned in braziers as from it wispy dark smoke rose from the would strange flames. A low chanting dominated the room, a drone of several individuals in perfect unison as a smokey trail bound them to a single figure, knelt in the circle. 

Keres gazed into the void, not with her eyes or any other senses, but with her mind, with her soul. Divination and foresight had been gifts that most Force Sensitives had, always in the form of dreams and intuition. But for her it was a labor to peer into the threads of fate and see what others could not. It took every single part of her, every iota of concentration and will to snatch the images to see beyond the distant echoes against a storm and the blurry images that would come with a premonition. 

She could taste the soot, smoke and sulfuric chocked atmosphere. She could see the treacherous steps into the sunken temple and into the dark library. She could hear the voice of madness and the soft hum of a lightsaber, and finally she could perceive the power of the darkside as the ship came closer and close to the ancient Sith moon of Oricon. And for a brief second, she could the face of a man, of being that had dared to etch his face with markings of gold and the vision ended.

Reality swept to her again. Her darksight left her with clues but not intimidate answers to what was to happen. Oricon is not a place for foolery. She silently reaffirmed her belief as she rose to her feet, the experience of the darksight leaving her worn but she would overcome it fast, not the same could be said of her acolytes that had been bound to her, their powers borrowed to make the sight more discernible during the void travel. The crackle of the intercom interrupting the silent atmosphere of the room. A flare of anger came about to her, quelled quickly, but the embers were still there. Zellos knew better than to disrupt her communications. 

"Lady Keres, we are two hours to achieve orbit over Oricon, your order?"

She raised her arms, the acolytes that had not being part of the ritual were beginning to work, peeling the layers of robes and instead placing an amalgamation of bodysuit, combat armor and scholarly robe over her body. The armor was light, a cuirass, bracers and boots of a dull silver, etched with runes from the ancient Sith temples, the robe was dark with cloth of silver, reaching down to her knees, whilst the body suit was there to protect her from the inhospitable environment of the moon. 

"Tell Lord Solis and the rest to meet at the bridge, alert Captain Kilran for a combat drop." She finally answered. 

Solis, even the name bothered her. The pretext of coming here to lend a hand so unbelievable that it made her roll her eyes. Behind the manners there was something that was amiss with him being here. Sith should not care about her successes, only her failures. Or at least she thought. 

"It will be done my lady." The officer replied back and cut the communication. 

Syrin stood there for a moment, the featureless mask in her hand as it reflected what could of her features. She took a final breath and placed the mask over her features. A hissing sound and the cool air washing against her face told her it was working as it should. She took a first step and then another until she found the momentum to carry her forwards to the bridge and then to the mission as her mind continued to work on the puzzle that was her darksight had given her. 

Dutch Neology @solo

[Dutch]

The bridge main door would slide open to reveal Darth Solis, and his red eyes shined with a smile hidden behind the armored rebreather mask which covered the lower half of his face. Black feathered hair fell back over where the mask was sealed behind his neck, and moved gently as he casually strode into Tenebrous’ bridge. His crimson gaze scanned the interior, not unlike his own flagship’s with the exception of a foreign crew- who still bowed and averted their gaze in the proper respectful way. With a confident gait the Sith would move towards the captain, black robes shifted around the equally sable underweave, over pristine shined boots, and the four lightsaber hilts which hung from his leather dueling belt clinked merrily in the quiet.

On arrival a single gloved hand would wave to pull the captain’s datapad to it, without permission, and the Darth cocked his chin towards Zellos, as if to offer him a chance to rebuke. It didn’t come, and the zelosian smirked to himself as his eyes fell to the datapad. The soon to be told mission briefing seemed well thought and laid out- a credit to the Order’s newest Darth. He continued to scroll through it in silence, until a shift within the Force pooled cold and ominous within his gut. As if his eyes were not his own, Solis slowly turned them towards the display of hyperspace. Towards Oricon. The Darth couldn’t say how he knew it was in that direction, but through the Force knows the dark world called to him. To all who had gazed into the void.

Close… come close…

He felt more than heard this, and the sensation made the inside of his ears itch and innards twist with anticipation. The Sith exhaled the emotions slowly, and steeled his resolve as he felt another presence draw closer to the bridge. Solis tightened his core and breathed deep as his baleful presence rolled out to waft in a small radius about his corporeal form. Non-threatening but still a protective measure, the presence would guide the datapad at hand through mid-air back to Captain Zellos. Without a word the Darth turned from him, and clasped both hands together behind his back as he strode closer to the bridge viewport.

Glowing red eyes watched the display, fixed in Oricon’s direction once more as he heard the armored doors behind him slide open for the next arrival.

[Neology]

[googlefont="News Cycle"]

Five ships. Two members of the Inner Sanctum. Imago brought the cardboard cup of coffee to his lips, sipping slowly as he contemplated that vast expense. The Empire had at times won real battles with less during the war – or so he had read. Where were all these ships and their highly trained crews really supposed to be right now? Didn’t matter. Here they were, chasing ghosts. An overwhelming force to suss out the fate of this ‘lost expedition.’ Imago could only hope that they weren’t throwing good money after bad. Although, if they were – and he found this strangely cheering – chances were he’d not have to make any sort account to Her Imperial Radiance due to a slight case of dead. Not that he wanted to die. Just that it was pretty safe to assume that any higher ranking Sith you met was a shoot-the-messenger type. He’d never had to give the Empress billions of credits in bad news before. That had to be at least as bad as a haunted volcano or whatever it was Darth Keres expected to find down on Oricon. Admittedly, Imago had never been particularly interested in tombs and baubles and relics – most of the time they were designed to torture you in some uniquely terrible way. But this would certainly look good in his file, if the mission was a success. Prestige-hunting was not an uncommon occupation for a knight of his talents and reputation. Imago stepped onto the bridge, where two Darths and a double handful of ship’s officers were already at work. He sketched a painstakingly correct bow then returned to rest, slurping down the rest of his coffee. ”No doughnuts on a ship of this size. I can't believe it.”

[Deleted]

Zexva had volunteered for this mission for two reasons. One there was a massive library of knowledge where they going, and there was nothing that he wanted more than to just consume it all. The other reason, was that whatever had caused the previous expedition to go missing was probably still alive, and he would be lying to himself if he said he didn't want a decent fight. Though there were two members of the Inner Sanctum here, he doubted that he would see much action, because they would probably just barge in, and do whatever they wanted to secure victory. He didn't know anyone that was on board this vessel save for the high ranking Darths. He doubted they knew of him, but that suited him just fine.

Yawning almost boredly, as he waited for the mission to start, it would be interesting to see what this lost sith world held in store for them. Walking through the ship he approached the bridge, to see someone drinking that awful concoction that was called coffee. Just thinking about it made his stomach lurch. Bowing respectfully to the Darths he looked at Imago, or at least that is what he thought his name was. Leaning against a wall as he looked out into the space before them seeing the large volcanic rock that was their destination.

"Oh wonderful...Of course it's a volcanic planet, five hundred credits says that we have to actually enter the volcano to find the Ancient Darths Library..." he said almost sarcastically.

Thought it was true that most Darths of the old days had an eccentricity about them, the thought process to hide things where some of them did was amazing. Perhaps they were just merely insane...Who knew?

[Harukei]

Keres crossed her arms before her chest, as irritation began to swell as she heard the complaints of the two lower ranked Sith. The featureless visage of her mask would meet the two Sith Knights as they presented each other. Solis had not need such presentation. Even when she was deep in congress with the Dark Side of the Force as much as he was, there was little about his baleful presence and wide mocking smile that could not be detected, and even though she did not fear the might and commanding aura of the man, it still send shivers down her spine. 

"The temple is built inside a volcano, as the dossier for the mission detailed."

The Sith Lady spoke, her voice stern and detached as it passed through the vocabulator of her suit as she glared down at Zexva through her mask, before her eyes would fall upon the other Sith Knight. 

"And as for you Imago, this is not a luxury cruise. Had you wanted comfort you would have done well to stay in Drommund Kaas."

She had no time to complains, no time to cater to their needs and wants when they were going to one of the most hostile environments of the galaxy, as the echoes of the dark side became stronger and stronger. Oricon now dominated the view port of the vessel. Blood red, molten gold and midnight black against the starry vacuum. This place is death indeed. Keres thought before returning to the trio of Sith that had chosen to come. Leading them to a holotable, the Sith Lady would begin the briefing, a white-blue glow emerged from the table as the holograms manifested, showing at first the planet and then the objective. 

"As you all know the moon was rediscovered and with it, we intended to research its contents, look through whatever relics and artifacts we could find in order to strengthen the Sith Order and the Empire. A task force under the Imperial Reclamation Service was dispatched over too months ago, we lost communication soon after the first findings were made. Our objective is to salvage what we can find inside the library and return."

It was simply said, but she suspected it would be harder than just that. Darth Erebus had not been a man willing to share knowledge. Whatever had caused the communication blackout had certainly had something to do with the traps set within the sanctum of the library. 

"Make no mistake. Erebus chose Oricon for a reason, only the strong will survive there. We will be met with rivers of molten lava, fumes of toxic gases that choke out air, soot and smoke swept fields of broken glass. It will be necessary that we wear environment suits, even our powers will not protect us completely."

Once more her eyes fell on them and she straightened her shoulders. If there was a second thought about the mission it was now, far too late. Too late for regrets, too late for anything that didn't had to do with the mission. Her mind came back as she heard approaching steps and turned to meet them, Captain Zellos returned, pale faced at the task of being the bearer of ill news for two of the ruling Lords of the Sith Empire. 

"My Lady.... My... Lords..."

He spoked, stammering. 

"What is it Zellos?"

The Captain nodded and looked at them after gathering enough courage to do so. 

"We found the rescue ships... they... well..."

Something caught her sight and then she saw the reason why Zellos had been afraid at all. Debris flew close to the view port of the bridge, pieces as small as a thumbnail and as big as a house flew aimlessly past the massive ship, broken and battered, hull blackened, peeled and melted, but clearly Imperial. They fired against themselves. Keres thought as her eyes widened. 

[Dutch]

Solis would turn from the viewport display to follow Darth Keres at his own pace, nonplussed by the warnings and sass uttered by his fellow Pillar. As the woman would talk, the zelosian would size up the other two Sith to accompany them. He could recognize the now tainted zeltron, his paler flesh doing little to hide his identity from Solis. Zexva, one of Onin’s mightier prospects, yet still lacked a given name. Solis was sure Aurelius had his reasons for not gifting his apprentice with one yet- after all it had been some time before Jessoin Zarander became Solis.

Searing red eyes would drift to the epicanthix next, and a smirk of recognition slid hidden behind the Darth’s rebreather mask. Imago had been a curiosity since joining the Cult of Truth, dangerous in both the Force and the Imperial political game. Solis could see himself in the younger man, as Renata’s once errand boy, well on the road to true power within the Order. A possible successor… someday…

Darth Solis would shoot the Knight of Truth a reassuring wink as Captain Zellos faltered with his announcement, and didn’t turn to look with the rest. After all, the zelosian could feel the widespread cold and necrotic energy which hung before them. Behind it, the hot, throbbing pulse of Oricon called through the aftermath to turn the Sith’s gaze at last.

His crimson iris' turned to take in the view, but it would remain unseen as a sudden mental image bloomed and bled into the zelosian’s mind’s eye. There was no longer the Tenebrous. There was the next cipher.

He could see it. An ovular room deep, deep underground. Dark, dim, and hot; the smooth red granite walls damp with condensation and the steady trickle of water which ran from a multitude of perfect holes in the ceiling. The chamber was massive, big enough to fit a monolithic inverted pyramid which hung in the direct center, whatever light within somehow emanating from it. Completely cast of smooth, pitch black metal, any water which poured would instantly dissipate into steam on contact.

Solis tried to see the object suspended at the tip of the pyramid, but the more he attempted to look, the heavier the pressure in his eyes would build until the dam broke. Malevolent energies poured into pupils to fill his mind like Oricon’s magma, and the sudden warm agony seized the muscles of the zelosian’s throat with dreadful yearning. He caught a gasp of surprise in a practiced stoic act as reality returned, and realized the silence which gripped the bridge was still fresh from discovering the fleet wreckage. This particular episode, had been less than seconds.

Certain everyone was more distracted by the countless death before them, the Darth grinned with anticipation as he turned to Keres and raised both brows towards her.

“Your command, Grand Prophetess?” He queried with a voice cold and raspy under the rebreather, the question meant to help bring her back to the task at hand as well.

[Harukei]

Keres would turn towards her hew fellow Dark Lord of the Sith, as the question remained between them. She studied the enunciation of his every word, his tone, and the way Solis had phrased the question. Through the frozen visage of her mask the Grand Prophetess would keep silence. The way the man spoke bordered the mocking, whether it was a calculated game for his own amusement or a way to understand how others around him worked, she decided that it wasn't worth an argument at the moment. She closed her eyes and found the words. 

"Prepare to drop." 

The Dark Lady said simply and to the point. In that instant the officers that were close to the entourage of Sith began their work, reading the dropships and the squads of troopers belonging to the Imperial Reclamation Services for the mission. A group of silver masked and dark shrouded Sith with saberpikes began to exit from the bridge in an orderly fashion, all but two remained, the two taller and physically stronger than them stood close to Keres. She took a notice to her bodyguards, two of the many that had been a remnant of the old organization the Cult had once had under the auspices of her master, but that she had not dared to dismantle. The so called 'deathshrouds' had been useful as her agents and her own praetorian guard of sorts. They made little sound but the soft rasping of the long cloaks and shrouds and the clinging of boots and tap of their pikes as they accompanied her and the rest of the Sith to the massive hangar bays of the Tenebrous, all but Imago whom she had ordered to stay on the ship to monitor the situation from orbit. 

It was a job she was confident the Sith under Solis' auspices could do, and at the very least she would not have to content with another member of the Jade Pillar. Now in the hangar hundreds of soldiers and engineers began making the last preparations, checking equipment and loading supplies, an honor guard escorted the trio of Sith towards their ship, a dropship larger than the rest that was being fueled and prepped for take off. A squadron of fighters also did the same, another escort for the salvage team as they made their way to the blasted surface of the planet. 

Once inside the dropship, the hatch closed with a hiss as the whine of the sublight engines became more apparent, with a soft rumble the dropship took off and the Imperial party was now on their way. The lights of the passenger compartment flickered and darkened, bright blue replaced by dull red as the formation of transports and fighters hulls kissed the scorched atmosphere of Oricon during reentry. The dropship shook as drafts of burning wind and clouds of black ash met them. Her hand reached for the webbing strapped to the ceiling as white-blue flashes pierced the squared windows, lightning cut a way through the dark paths of ash clouds. 

Keres would look around, at her guard, at the soldiers and at Solis and Zexva trying to feel something from them. Any emotion that could give her an idea of what was their thinking, but suddenly something else caught her attention. Through the inbuilt communication system of her armor, she heard the usual chatter of pilots and traffic control officers. But there was something else. A whisper that appeared half a second before disappearing. She turned her head back towards soldiers and saw some of them reaching to tap the sides of their helmets as if there was some malfunction. It couldn't be a coincidence. She opened a voice channel with one of the communication officers aboard the dropship. 

"My Lady?"  

He asked in a calmed tone, deciding it was better to be concentrated in his job than in anything else. 

"Is there a problem with our communication? I hear something that is definitively not the fleet not our pilots."

There was a second of delay as the soldier began to work through his instruments. 

"There seems to be some interference, possibly due the magnetic field of the planet my Lady, I will attempt to clean it up."

It would be but a few more seconds as the soldier typed his keys, working through them to get rid of the bothersome signal until his voice returned, this time in confusion. 

"Wait... No... that can't be right. Milady, it seems the signal is mingled in imperial frequencies, but I cannot pinpoint the origin... wait.. there's someone speaking..."

"Play him through."

Keres said in a calm tone. The frequency changed, static coming for a second as she heard a voice speaking in unwords, in a plain gibberish that made no sense at all. Until it did. A raspy voice came, and cold fear ran down the spine of every Imperial Soldier above. The pilots that guided the ship shook for a second, translating in a strange swaying of the ship. 

"Amarok. That's the only name you'll hear. Amarok. It means the end and the death. Amarok. I am Amarok. Amarok is all around you. Amarok is the man beside you. Amarok will gnaw on your bones. Look out! Amarok is here."

The message continued on and one, until Keres ordered the soldier to remove it from coms and had the entire salvage teams to change to another frequency. Her mind raced through all knowledge she had amassed and memorized, yet the name Amarok did not came through, this had to be a survivor, a crazed survivor. 

---

The ships landed ten miles away from the camp. Meeting them was a waste of broken black glass, rivers of boiling lava, and rocks that had a sharper edge than any knife she knew ever had held. Fumes of volcanic gases erupted from the soil, and at the distance she saw the great volcano from where Darth Erebus had constructed his dark fortress. His guard had spread in a circle, lightsaber pikes deactivated but aimed at nothing as ash began to fell as snow. 

Oricon was death, she now understood it. She always had for she knew well how a dark lord like Erebus had thought. It was not only the volcanoes and the lack of breathable air. What had been a whisper in orbit, had become a lullaby of screams and anger that attempted to pierce her mind. Now she had understand why the expedition could have gone so awry.