No Rest for the Wicked

[Bishop]

By the time the ship had touched down on the surface, Nikolai could feel the dark energy all around him. It was flowing through his body, taunting him with its very presence. He had begun to regret signing up for this mission, but there was nothing that had held him back from volunteering at the Jedi temple in all of his reckless arrogance. Many Jedi had been reluctant to go to Malachor, but Nik was was not one of them. At least, not until now.

Darth Nokris had not been a name Nikolai was familiar with. Before their departure from Tython, he had searched the archives for any information regarding the ancient Lord of War that he could get his hands on. It was his tomb they were entering, but it was anyone's guess what they would find. Nikolai's most recent nights had been spent pondering that very thought. His imagination had gone unchecked. Now, he was anxious and ready to put his questions to rest.

Accompanying him was his fellow Knight, Lysander. The two had been acquaintances since they were Padawans on Tython, and now had a duty to uphold as Jedi of the Order. It eased his tensions to know that he would be going into the tomb with someone he could rely on.

When the ship had been docked and its ramp extended, Nikolai was the first to exit. As he stepped out onto the surface of Malachor, his robes fluttered in the wind. His hood was raised and his lightsaber was at the ready. "And here I thought we had won a vacation to Alderaan," he chuckled.

A shiver went down his spine.

@Deviant

 

[Lysander]

Eyes translucent in a cold shade of blue, and boots gleaming as it clicked against the ramp, Lysander trailed behind Nikolai. His gaze remained snug to his physique, having taken only a moment's glance to the wasteland enclosed around them. Whereas his long-time friend had personally sought out the supposed spirit that lingered among the barren rock of Malachor, he had little reason to care. All that concerned him was just how long the two would tarry on the dreary world. The Sith wraith, or whatever it had dubbed itself, caused him no worry. All Sith were the same in his eyes: haughty, presumptuous, arrogant. Too weak to the see the truth that lay right before them. And in this case, the truth would be his lightsaber. Going straight through that specter's face. If that was possible, at least.

Robes slender and taut around his figure, he moved to stand alongside his fellow Knight. Classic smirk tied to his face, Lysander placed his hand onto his shoulder. Looking toward his friend from the side, he quipped, "Hey now, at least you won a vacation with me— even if it is on this dreadfully dull piece of shit."

Managing a light-hearted chuckle, he allowed his feet to guide him ahead. Lightsaber strung beside his waist, he was more than ready for a solid round of ghost-busting. Who knows— there was always the off chance he'd find himself a new souvenir. Or a load of treasure. It was the tomb of a renowned Sith Lord they were raiding, if he could recall correctly.

@Bishop

 

[Bishop]

It was colder than he had expected on Malachor. A storm was brewing around them, and another gust of wind sent Nikolai's hood flapping back, exposing his head to the elements. Nikolai couldn't bring himself to smile at his companion's droll remark. They were on a planet shrouded in the dark side, did it not provoke the same sense of queasiness in Lysander that it did in him? Nik couldn't help but wonder. He went on, albeit lagging behind to take in his surroundings while his fellow knight took the lead. They had landed at the edge of a valley, it appeared. Roughly one hundred meters to their left was a sharp drop in incline, which Nikolai presumed lead to the entrance of the tomb.

"Are you not the slightest bit disturbed by this place, Lyse?" he asked. He had noticed his friends apathy. They were to potentially encounter a legendary figure of old--a relic from the beginnings of the Sith, and Lysander didn't seem to care. Nikolai couldn't shake the feeling of uneasiness that had gripped him when he first set foot on the surface, and yet... at least a part of him was innately curious. The young knight longed to know what awaited the duo in the tomb, but even in all of his recklessness he knew to be careful. He didn't get the same impression from Lysander.

He could feel the darkness growing stronger as they approached.

@Deviant

 

[Lysander]

"Oh yes, certainly," he answered, sarcasm dripping from his voice, "Absolutely terrified! I'm just, quivering in fear."

He made a point by coiling his arms over his chest, shuddering and trembling with evident mockery as he turned to face Nikolai. On the spur of the moment, Lysander opened up his arms to him, melodramatic and theatrical as he sardonically wailed, "Oh, no. The Sith are going to kill me! Save me, Niko— my Jedi Knight in shining armor! Save me!"

His hands dropped to his side. Smile wide and plastered across his unshaven jowl, he laughed breathlessly. Holding his chest in an attempt to contain his laughter, he slapped the hem of Nikolai's shoulder in jest. Wiping a tear away, he continued, "Ah, Niko. You shouldn't worry about it. Malachor is all bark but no bite. Sure, it looks like a wampa just shit out some macerated bantha, but you shouldn't get so worked up. We'll be in and out of here in no time."

At least, that's what he had assumed.

Leading the two forward to the outer verge of the tomb, where the dark side grew thicker the closer they approached, Lysander pat his old friend on the back in consolation. "This is gonna be fun. Trust me."

@Bishop

 

[Bishop]

As they carefully tread down deeper into the valley, the tomb had become much more apparent. In the distance he could see ruined statues, presumably of great lords of old guarded the entrance to the tomb unblinkingly. Their decayed features were hard to make out, but it was evident that they were once modeled after Sith Pureblood. "The Sith are nothing to take lightly," Nikolai said, grimacing. "Was it all shits and giggles when Tython was sacked?" He paused, collecting himself. "We're on a mission for the Order. Please, Lysander, let's act like it." Oh, when had the reckless become the cautious?

Once they had made it down, Nikolai lingered at the entrance of the tomb. In front of him lay nothing. It was an abyss of darkness, one big enough to swallow a rancor. He slowly opened his robe and reached for his utility belt, pulling out a torch he had brought along in anticipation of the darkness that awaited them. He preferred the torch over his lightsaber as a source of light, believing his sacred weapon to be much more likely to disturb whatever may be waiting for them inside.

Reluctantly, Nikolai lit the torch and held it out in front of him. It helped illuminate the area to an extent, though they were still largely greeted by darkness. Nikolai took one step forward, followed by another. Before he knew it, he was inside.

@Deviant

 

[Lysander]

"Loosen up, Nik," he confided softly, looking up to him with inviting charm. However, recognizing his austere scowl, and hearkening to his guttural response, the Jedi Knight regressed in both his movement and exuberance. Unlike the early, glorious days of their Jedi trials, Nikolai seemed far more contemplative. Somber. Remote. Although Lysander knew full well the measure of his presumption and gall, as well as his own overbearing enthusiasm, to see his own friend admonish like a child him proved hurtful. Glazed eyes unpinned from his partner, he sauntered soundlessly through the entrance of the tomb, his lips sulking in reply, "Alright, alright. Sorry. I'm just... eager, is all."

Voice melting back into his throat, Lysander carried himself alongside Nikolai through the darkness of the corridor. Steered only by the incandescent flame of the torch, the two drifted aimlessly to what he assumed would be the precise location of the tomb. However, his mind felt waxing unease. An unrest that sent shivers crawling down his spine; his backbone. And as they farther they ventured, the passage grew only colder, even in spite of his intimacy to both the glow of the torch and the warmth of his companion's aura. Regardless, he didn't mind. Having been born to the bitter chill of Hoth, the raw air seemed only a distant reflection of his past. One hardly worth noting.

Yet the cold was seldom worrisome, Lysander nonetheless gravitated ever closer to Nikolai. Hand wandering down to where his lightsaber hanged, he murmured beneath his breath, but still loud enough for his friend to hear. "We're almost there. Don't shit yourself just yet, Nik."

@Bishop

 

[Bishop]

The light from the surface of the planet slowly disappeared behind them as they wandered further into the tomb. Before long, Nikolai's torch was the only source of light available to the duo. They were sheltered from the growing storm that was preparing to rage outside, yet only at the price of more sinister problems. The only sounds to be heard were their footsteps echoing in the hallway and the flickering flame in Nikolai's possession. It seemed to carry on indefinitely.

"Thank you," he said abruptly for no reason other than to break the silence. What he was thankful for, if he even was, he could not say. Perhaps it was Lysander correcting his attitude, though Nikolai had a hunch that his companion was simply just now becoming unsettled himself.

As the hallways narrowed, Nikolai cocked his head towards the right. He had noticed something peculiar. After stopping for a moment he shifted his direction and began to walk towards the wall, his torch held out in front of him. With the light from the flame, Nikolai had discovered what appeared to be hieroglyphics written everywhere. "Lyse, come look at this." He lifted his free hand and delicately stroked it across the wall, taking off a thick layer of dust which he proceeded to wipe on his garments. Without saying a word, he shifted his gaze from one transcript to the next in concerned amazement, trying to figure out their various meanings. Numerous stories appeared to be conveyed in the texts, all dark and eerie. One that particularly grabbed Nikolai's attention was what he interpreted as a recorded sacrificial ceremony to a god or deity.

"I'm not sure whether to be amazed or unsettled," he murmured not impassively. In truth, he was a bit of both.

@Deviant

 

[Lysander]

Furrowed arks and intricate designs gleamed beneath the warmth of the torch. Eyes narrowed in distant curiosity, his own hand traced along the buried grooves throughout the wall. Dust collecting onto his fingertips, he gently wiped the grime onto his partner's robes. After all, Lysander was sporting a first-class robes interwoven with lashaa silk and Corellian fabric, and sullying it so early on would naturally irk him for the remainder of the mission. Then again, he already was perturbed. The thick darkness enclosed around them; shadows not even the torch could fight off, seemed as if they were watching their every move. Like eyes entombed against them. Daunting, perhaps, but the Knight had a good feeling that a little stab here and there with his lightsaber might prove successful.

That was how the Jedi fought infernal specters of the dark side, right?

Glancing onto the unrecognizable language a final time, Lysander hissed under his breath, "Neither. We should be prepared, that's what." His metal blade strained in the anchor of his right hand, he motioned Nikolai farther into the tomb. There was no use idling around walls adorned in some really awful attempt at cursive, or whatever it was. Rather, Lysander was looking to get out of the vault as soon as possible, and that would mean confronting the dark spirit first and foremost. "Nik, I think we should get going..." His awry gaze looked briefly into the darkness.

He shuddered.

@Bishop

 

[Bishop]

He was lost in thought as he studied the designs that lay before him. It took Lyse's calling out to him to bring him back to the present. The hieroglyphics were fascinating, but Nikolai was on a mission and knew that he couldn't get caught up looking over them. He would surely have to mention the discovery in their briefing when they returned to Tython, but for now it was imperative that their focus remained on the ancient spirit plaguing the tomb. "I'm coming," he said before finally stepping away from the transcripts and heading back towards Lysander.

Their shadows danced across the floor as the two continued their maneuvers through the exponentially shrinking hallway. The only warmth left in the hall was from Nikolai's torch, though even that seemed to be diminishing as they went further in. Before long, they had made it to what he believed to be the end. They were greeted by a small wooden door, its condition pathetic. The door seemed to desperately hang on to the rocky walls around it, as if it could fall off at a moment's notice. Nikolai couldn't help but wonder what lay beyond.

@Deviant

 

[Lysander]

Vigilance laden in his footfalls ahead, Lysander flickered to the door. Rough and coarse, made so by innumerable years of desertion, the wooden entrance croaked as he placed the palm of his hand against it. Lightsaber wedged between fingers tight with caution, he leads himself into the doorway. Rather than wait for his unforeseen foe unarmed, he ignited the edge of his blade. A slender line of glacial blue pierces into the darkness. The polar hue fights against the shadow, moving through the air as Lysander made an attempt to inspect the chambers. However, he moves quickly, already several meters beyond the warmth of his compatriot, and deep into the freezing environs of the tomb.

Lips creased with silence, his head permeates with only the sound of his heartbeat. Loud, furious. It's grows to unnaturally deafening levels as he moves to what looks to be the silhouette of the Sith Lord's crypt. His saber wavers. Pointing the sword to the jagged rock of the coffin, his instinct stands ready for even the most dreadful of surprises. Be that as it may, Lysander was seldom prepared to greet the ethereal spirit on his own. And he knew it. Steering his blade farther and higher, his mind make a final scream of thoughts before falling silent. The light of his saber unveils a jagged statue of a disfigured man. The Sith Lord.

In an instant, his eyes loll back into his head. His body twitches. His neck careens. The handle of his blade clatters into the stone floors.

Lysander is no more.