[TEF MISSION] Finding Shade

[Xan]

The twin suns of Tatooine were beginning the process of setting, leaving enough light to be functional without the extreme heat that typically came as the price of light on Tatooine. A lone transport made its way over the sand dunes, carrying a total of four men aside from the pilot. These four men were volunteers of the Tatooine Expeditionary Force, and they had been tasked with seeking out a certain area within the scorching desert and exploring it in order to ensure that the place was safe for securing by a larger group. Normally this would be a simple task, and nothing to be nervous about or give a second thought to. One of the men in the transport was sensitive to the Force however, and at the moment there was a definite nervous energy emanating from at least two of the men aboard. Without a doubt there was a good reason for them to be nervous even if the Force Adept did not share in the feeling. The men had all been informed that there was a relatively high possibility of a Krayt Dragon encounter during the course of this mission, and most men should feel slightly nervous when told that they might come face to face with one of the apex predators of Tatooine. The Force Sensitive smiled when he sensed their discomfort, a small smile of pity that went unseen due to the fact that his face was covered. In fact, every inch of the man's body was covered, sealed away inside of the armor that he wore. It was this armor that gave him one of his nicknames: Desert Armor. Extending a hand towards one of the men emitting the nervous feeling and then the other, the armored figure introduced himself.

"Alexander Renelo. You two look a bit nervous. I take it you've never fought a Krayt before?" The men shook their heads, looking roughly at the point where Xanthus's eyes would have been had his helm been removed. "I see. Well, I've fought a few...well hold on...actually, I've hunted a few and fought several. I know that we don't have a formal command structure in this group, but try to listen to me and I promise all four of us are going back to Mos Esther in one piece. It helps to have a Mandalorian around, eh?" The last few words were said with something of a chuckle to help the men feel a bit more relaxed, and from what Xanthus could tell it seemed to have had a slight effect. At the very least the men felt somewhat more relaxed and confident about their task. Turning, Xanthus looked towards the fourth member of the team."So, what about you, fellow volunteer? Ever faced down the legendary Krayt Dragon before? Thought I'd ask to get a feel for the experience of the group before we stared down the jaws of a thirty to forty foot engine of destruction with teeth, you know?" Considering the fact that he was supposed to be 'laying low,' it was true that Xanthus would be relying on this group more than he would usually allow himself to. He would be limiting the powers that he would be using in this battle if it turned out that the reports about a potential encounter were true. After all, he had to downplay much of his Force potential for the moment, simply to establish the character that he was attempting to portray: Alexander Renelo, a Mandalorian former Jedi who happened to survived the destruction of Mandalore, and made his way to Tatooine. Unfortunately, Alexander Renelo was not as strong in the Force as Xanthus Dar'manda, and so Xanthus would have to act accordingly. Part of acting accordingly of course was learning the relative strength of this group so that he could regulate his abilities accordingly, as he also wanted to ensure that the men made it back to Mos Esther in one piece.

 

[Befallen]

To call someone foreign would oft mean they weren’t apart of something. That they stood apart, alien to it entirely. For the figure covered from head to toe in cloth and armor, that sentiment was entirely true. The glowing red panels of his faceplate stared hollowly forward; his thoughts a mystery to the other three occupants of the shuttle that flew low over the sands of Tatooine. He said nothing and barely moved as he watched his would-be companions tremble in fear of the coming storm. He stood apart from them. He did not know the fear they shared. Long ago, he had cast such worldly things aside. Perhaps, it was a byproduct to his upbringing, perhaps it was a coping mechanism stemming from the recesses of his mind. Whatever the case was, he no longer feared death. Instead, the figure embraced it.

As he watched expressionlessly as the two other men trembled and quaked for want of little else to do, he pitied them. They were young by comparison to him. Everyone was. Their lives were the length of a flame upon a match. With but a rogue breeze they would be snuffed out in an instance and at random. Would that same unbearable fate befall them? The Danthiri could not say. The dark elf, clung to the shadows of the cabin from his seat. Perhaps, it was his own imaginative musings, but he felt that they came to him, beckoned by his dark and heavy presence. It wasn’t the supernatural powers of the Force that beckoned the shadows to him, but, perhaps, his own, heavy heart.

As he observed in silence, the fourth adventurer made his presence known and felt. Both physically and incorporeally. Through reasons long since chalked up to a greater and darker purpose by his species creator, he had been gifted with the ability to sense the Force being manipulated in others. This manifestation of a sixth or seventh sense often lead to an advantage in his previous life. Considering, that the mystical energy he’d come to know as the Force surrounded everything, encapsulating it, he felt it constantly wherever he walked. In some, the concentrations were greater. It was in his experience that those with higher concentrations of those energies were often able to bend that energy to their will. This could be done in a multitude of mundane ways as well as fantastical. The armored and mechanical being that accompanied them. This ‘Alexander Renelo’ was one such individual. Although, he did not outwardly project the energies of the Force, his own signature danced with the others’ as his senses reached out to touch them.

Cnaiur, too, could feel their fear palpable in the air. However, one didn’t need the misfortune of constantly sensing the Force to do so. It was evident upon their visages and body languages. Their very essence was a roadmap of their insecurities. Yet, this Alexander had none of those traits. He seemed self-assured, confident as he tried to assuage their concerns. Cnauir simply sat and watched as events unfolded around them. In the time between then and now, his hands silently moved to the scabbards adorning his greaves. Seizing one of his prized daggers, he fished out a whetsone from a pouch and went about sharpening his blade. There was no true purpose behind this ritual. His blades were already sharp enough. However, the act of doing so occupied him and often kept him from having to interact with others. He found conversation to be... cumbersome of late.

Yet, as the jarring ring of the stone gliding across edged steel cut across the cabin, the armored Renelo felt compelled to address the obviously antisocial Desert Ranger. Cnaiur felt no compunction to make friends among the TEF. They shared a common goal which was the sole reason he had allied with them. Add to that the fact that this Force-sensitive had just announced to the world he was Mandalorian and the Ranger felt less than obliged to greet him. Raising his head slightly, the Ranger cocked a brow from behind his helm.

He grunted as his way of greeting before flatly responding, “I’ve killed two. Hunted and tracked more.”

 

[Xan]

The enigmatic fourth member of the scouting party did not have overmuch to say, though Xanthus supposed that he could not hold that against him. It was clear from his mannerisms that he was not a sociable person, or at the least was not feeling sociable at this moment. It mattered not, as he at the least answered the question and gave Xanthus a better idea of the relative experience level of the group: not overwhelmingly high, but nothing that would necessarily lead to casualties unless an element of carelessness was involved. "Fair enough." The armored man said simply, nodding once before turning back towards the other two members of the team. One fortunate aspect of wearing a full-body suit of armor was the fact that it was difficult to read expressions when said expressions could not be seen. At this moment, Xanthus was frowning lightly, holding an internal debate centered on the subject of the proper amount of Force usage for this mission. It would be a wise idea to have an idea of how much skill he wanted to display before having a need to tap into the semi-sentient energies. He decided that he would simply use a moderate amount of Force potential, nothing overly worthy of n otice or comment. Simple movements and techniques would have to suffice unless the need grew great enough that more would be required, or perhaps if he were to be separated from the group to face the beast alone. It was true reports had only mentioned a possibility of a Krayt Dragon being in this dig site somewhere, but to Xanthus a possibility was close enough that he simply planned for the occurrence. He had brought along his three silver-bladed lightsabers for the occasion: two were attached to his shoulder blades via magnetic locks, while one was attached to his waist. There might have been one attached to the other side of his waist, but that one was currently in the hands of a presumably far away Jedi named Lutomi. This was fine however, as four lightsabers would be unnecessary for today's purpose. Speaking of today's purpose...

The transport came to a halt and the passengers made ready to depart and properly begin the mission. The man who had brought them here would wait at this location for a few hours for the group to return, at which point he would turn about and return to Mos Esther. Connections between the modes of communication available to the group were presumably synced so that everyone could maintain contact. Interfacing with his armor, Xanthus saw the advanced head's up display come alive with tactical data concerning himself and his teammates. Stepping off of the transport and into the sand, Xanthus looked forward and into the area in which the group had been dropped. It was something akin to a small Tatooine 'town,' evidence that whomever had been working here had expected a long stay. The place was almost infinitesimal when compared in size to Mos Esther, but it was large enough to comfortably hold the very large team of people that must have abandoned this place. For a moment, Xanthus wondered how long ago the buildings had been left behind, for they did not appear to be that old or rundown. Most of them appeared to have gone through whatever years had passed in a decent condition.

The small 'town' was built near the side of a large valley wall, and in this wall nearby to the town was a hole in the valley wall. That was more than likely the entrance to the actual 'dig' itself, with the town being a resting place for those who had worked on the project before. The sight of the town and valley wall cavern raised and answered a question simultaneously. Once again Xanthus was curious about what the people who had constructed the small town-camp been working on before they abandoned the site. Was their work or research finished? Not that it mattered, and not that he cared in the face of the answer of one question. If there was indeed a Dragon here, it was within that cavern and it had come more than likely for the purpose of finding shade from the sun in the rocks. Unfortunately, everyone required protection from the twin suns rays, and so whatever critters were within the cavern had to be eliminated. "Quaint little place, eh? Come on, let's go make sure that nothing is moving about in the...town. And be ready with those blasters, gentlemen." 'Alexander Renelo' said as he began to take steps towards the small location. Opening his mind to the Force, Xanthus extended his senses in an effort to detect life within the place. He did not seem to sense anything, but that did not mean that nothing was there, but merely that he did not readily sense its presence.

 

[Befallen]

As soon as the armored Ranger spoke, he had forgotten the presence of the other armored man. If the Ranger were to be honest with himself, he would have preferred to do this mission alone. To be around others was disconcerting. He had simply spent too much time with himself and the dead. Mourning days past. As the Renelo turned upon his heels and departed the Ranger’s company, the whetstone resumed its gruesome march upon the edge of his blades. Both were sharpened ritualistically. The sound that was used to isolate and alienate him from the others, now brought him solace and purpose. Even now, he could sense they were nearing their destination. It was no preternatural skill. No mystical gift. Not like the Renelo. It was, simply, an extra sense honed from many, many years of use.

It served him well throughout his ridiculously long life. And it would serve him until the day he died. The Ranger could feel it in the ship, feel the insignificant change in acceleration, feel it in the wind resistance upon the hull. But, mostly, he could feel it in his gut. Dead eyes shown through red lenses as he stared at the bay doors behind his fellow companions. Dead eyes that suddenly hungered. This, this was far easier than socializing. This was far easier than living with the living. This, he understood intimately. Just as the armored Renelo began to speak, the Desert Ranger rose from his seat. He was whisper silent as he navigated his way past the three men. Stopping just short of the doors, he sheathed both of his keenly sharp daggers and unslung his rifle. In a fluid motion, he cocked the bolt back by sliding the lever action forward and surveyed the chamber. It was recently cleaned and well oiled.

His rifle wouldn’t have much of an effect on the Dragon’s hide. It was much too tough for that. However, if there was a dragon present at their destination, it would serve to obtain its ire and attention. A useful tool. As he slammed the lever home, he watched blankly as a 6.5mm round was chambered. The ancient warrior then felt presences behind him as the ship gently shook. As the doors slid open to reveal to its occupants that they had arrived, turbulence and jetwash were kicked up around them, churning and swirling to form a cauldron of dust and sand. Renelo stepped forward, just as the Ranger was beginning his slow descent from the ramp. He cut him off and landed first. Armored feet touching upon soft sand. His armored head took in the landscape. Suddenly, the Ranger could hear him in his head. No, not in his head, but through his helmet. Absently, he glowered. Their apparent ‘leader’ talked too damn much.

As he descended the ramp, he slowly and silently moved forward. His steps light upon the sand despite the weight of his armor. In his wake, the wind removed all traces of his presence. He moved forward towards the mining town without permission. Behind him, he could hear the last two occupants disembarking. He could hear their chatter in his head thanks to their connected communications. His glower intensified. As he moved, his pace slowly, but steadily began to quicken. His form began to hunch forward. Rifle held loosely in both hands he almost appeared to be on the hunt. The Ranger didn’t much care what the others would do. He didn’t like being out in the open. Especially after arriving in their noisy transport.

Tuskens could be about. After all, this was nomansland. It was not his true intention to disobey the Renelo, nor cause fear to form in the hearts of the others. It was not his intention to cause them to doubt if he was with them or not. Simply, his instincts had taken over and the others were forgotten. Today had been one of his worse days. He’d woken up haunted by dreams of the past. Of happier times. As he’d risen from his cot, his chest felt heavy and hollow. His eyes, as he surveyed his scruffy alabaster beard, were hollow. A sheen of sweat had draped his brow. A howling gust of wind sharply returned him to the present.

He stopped in his tracks and slowly lowered himself to kneeling. His rifle became snugly positioned against his shoulder. Dead eyes scanned their surroundings. He noticed rogue streams of sand flutter off of an abandoned structure. His HUD whined and chirped as it went nuts, trying to distinguish between possible threats and nothing. Slowly, a guantleted hand rose from off his rifle to smack the side of his helm. Inside, the holographic screen shook, faltered, fritzed and then blanked out. A long sigh exited the Ranger. His eyes continued to scan from behind red lenses. He rose, deciding that, at least for now, they were alone. He continued forward, undisturbed until he came before the building that had sand gently falling off its roof. By the time he arrived, his HUD’s internal systems had begun rebooting. Moments later and everything was back to normal and working as it should.

The Desert Ranger eased himself forward, hugging the building until he reached its corner. There he paused as he leaned forward to peak around it and survey the street beyond. It was desolate. A solitary well sat in the center of what once would have been the main street. An old wooden bucket dangled from rotting rope. It creaked and groaned in the wind, but did not break. More sand twirled in the breeze, randomly throughout the street. Doors from abandoned houses and buildings clattered open and shut. For the first time, the Ranger remembered he was not alone. Easing his way back behind the corner, he turned his head to look upon the approaching men. He noticed how much the armored Renelo stuck out against the backdrop of sand and rock. His glower returned with a grimace. He waved to them to pick up their pace and join him before he moved forward. Before he forgot they were there again.

 

[Xan]

The other armored figure was swift to leave the others behind, marching to the beat of his own drum into the abandoned town. For a moment, Xanthus felt something akin to a flash of annoyance. He then cracked an unseen smile and mentally shrugged. For a brief moment, he had forgotten that he was no longer 'Xanthus, Executioner of the Sith Order.' He was used to Acolytes and Crusaders being essentially attached to him, hanging onto his every word and not making many movements unless he commanded them or had outlined them aforehand. He had almost forgotten that he had left the privilege of instant obedience behind when he decided that he no longer desired to affiliate with the Sith, the Empire, and the mad woman who led both. Instead of being annoyed, he decided that he should be...amused by the fact that the other armored figure was so individualistic: he reminded him of a few of his former colleagues. Momentarily deactivating his personal comms, Xanthus turned to one of the two men who had now begun to walk on either side of him. Gesturing to the back of the man who had walked off to a great distance by this point, he shrugged lightly.

"Not a particularly friendly fellow, is he? That's fine though, considering the fact that an advance scout is always welcome. Does he happen to have a name that can be called if his presence is required?" The man that he was talking to looked to the other before shrugging and responding that the man was typically called by the name 'Desert Ranger.' This time Xanthus could not resist the chuckle that rose from his lungs, so amused was he by the thought that he and the Ranger both had the word 'Desert' in their titles. It was almost as though they had drawn inspiration from a roughly similar source. "Ah, I see. Well as long as we can all communicate. At any rate, stick with me. I intend to return to Mos Esther with everyone still being alive." With that, the man who sometimes went by Desert Armor continued his walk with the two men towards the abandoned town. Perhaps it was simply anticipation of a much greater threat, but Xanthus was acting with an uncharacteristic level of casualness towards attempting to perceive threats within the ruins. Or perhaps it was simply the fact that he was so used to anticipating greater threats than dragons on a mission that this task seemed almost childish by comparison. The last time that a task of this nature had required his fullest efforts and attentions had been when he held the rank of Initio, and that had been well over a decade ago.

As someone who was arguably one of the most powerful beings in the galaxy, and a person who had been until only a short time ago one of Andraste's best assassins...this was simply an exercise and nothing more. That being said, he supposed that he could excuse himself a slight bit of carelessness, especially considering the fact that the Ranger was already handling the scouting of the town-encampment anyway. Suddenly the other armored figure emerged and waved in what Xanthus assumed was an impatient manner for them to pick up their pace before he turned away and continued forward. "Come on gentlemen, let's get going. The sooner we inspect this town, the sooner we can get down into that hole there and see if the rumors about critters are true." With a thought, Xanthus reactivated his communications so that the Ranger could hear him. "I'm going to assume that the town is empty?" He said as he picked up his pace with a gesture to the others to do the same. The question was rhetorical at this point, considering the fact that he had been searching through the Force for signs of life. He already knew that the place was empty unless there was synthetic life within, which he doubted highly considering the fact that this was an encampment in the middle of nowhere on a planet in the middle of nowhere.

 

[Befallen]

Turning his head around again, the Ranger stared back into the armored warrior and smiled thinly. “Yes, this mining town is empty.” A barely audible layer of annoyance edged his otherwise flat voice. Was it entirely true? He didn’t know. He suspected that this Renelo did. Even now he could sense the Force being pulled, drawn and manipulated by him. It was unsettling being next to someone as strong in the Force as this.

Many years ago, long before he suspected any of his companions had been born, he’d encountered others outside his race who could bend the Force to their will. Even now, as he pushed off from the wall to quick-step across the deserted street he remembered that uncomfortable sensation. It felt like his senses were being pulled towards them, sucked into a vacuumous blackhole. If that was what it was like to use the Force, than Cnauir was glad he was born without the gift. Yet, the curse he was born with was going to plague him now. As he picked up his pace to put some distance between himself and the remaining three, the ethereal sensation began to lessen. Being so close to that man put his teeth to jarring. Perhaps, that was the true reason behind his dislike for him? Perhaps it was other things. Cnauir did not bother to muse any deeper on the matters than the surface level.

There were dragons to hunt and this location to scout. Plus, the more he fixated on this armored stranger, the more buried feelings and memories it dug up. The Ranger was plagued and hounded by his past enough as it was. He didn’t need further reminding of how he stood apart, aloof from everything and everyone. Being apart from the armored one quieted the catacombs of his mind and kept the ghouls lurking in the shadows therein, mostly silent. Reaching, the next building, he rolled around its corner until he faced the street once more. For a moment, he spared a glace back at the three men. With a gruff scoff, he averted his eyes to the interior visible by a busted window with a rotting wood sill. Quickly rolling his head about the windowsill, he took in as much of the interior as he could.

At one point the place had been a cantina. It was probably the only and main source of entertainment in this pitiful excuse for a town. However, with this vain venture failing and the company that funded it pulling up its stakes, this pub like everything else on Tatooine was left to rot, abandoned. Inside all the furnishings had a thick layer of webbing and dust. What parts that were disturbed were not recently so. Chairs were overturned or broken, tables were stationary or smashed into bits. Old slugthrower wounds stuck out from their holes in the walls. Cobwebs hung from lighting fixtures. And, yet, despite how desolate the place appeared, it did not mean it was abandoned. Rogue and rampant droids could be about. It was known to happen.

They could be hunting you, a voice chided, sickly sweet. The Ranger desperately shook his head. No. No. No. He rolled back around the corner, facing deeper into the interior of the mining town. The entrance of the mine was about a thousand meters or more in front of him. His path there would be unobstructed, yet not without its dangers. Bisecting alleyways lined the side street at seeming random, like arterial veins that coursed through a body. Anything or nothing could be lurking within them. He quickly checked his internal systems to make sure his external comms were not transmitting. He had already unkeyed himself from their internally shared channel. Cnauir might be forced to hear this armored Renelo in his head, but he would not be forced to respond.

Realizing that he would not be disturbed, he began muttering to himself. The voice became another and another until a chorus filled his skull. One by two, they’re coming for you, they sang sweetly, three by four they’re at that door! The door of an adjacent building clattered open, smashing against the adobe wall that held up the face of the building. The Ranger’s eyes were drawn there, pupils dilated and transfixed. The grip upon his repeater tightened. Slowly his eyes switched from pale blue to a deep purple, signifying the increase in his stress level. Pushing his way forward, he began to repeat the rhymes Daphne used to sign to him in the dead of night when the monster’s called. Incessantly, he repeated them line by line, stanza by stanza, until he had begun mimicking the sound of her voice.

Five by six, you better look up quick! A whoosh of wind rolled out from the mouth of the tunnel entrance to howl across the town. It kicked up dust and sand and caused the Ranger to force his eyes shut as he began to hyperventilate. By now, it was taking all of his willpower to remain glued together. It took a lifetime of mental exercise and dealing with these demons on a regular basis to allow him to remain functioning, even if only on an instinctual level. To the astute, they might notice the sudden choppiness of his clipped movements as a sign of danger. As the Ranger continued to mutter to himself, he drew closer to the cave and the nightmarish rhyme continued.

Approaching the mouth of the tunnel’s entrance, the rhyme reached its crescendo and the Ranger was perspiring heavily. His hyperventilating had elevated to a near full-on panic attack kept only at bay by rigorously indoctrinated training. Suddenly, as the voices rose in mocking crescendo, a false light enveloped him. As he visibly disappeared into the tunnel’s entrance, his hands laxed their grip upon his rifle. It fell to his side, held limply in his off-hand. His main hand reached up to desperately clutch at the locket he wore over his armor and held it fast as his mutterings reached a fevered pitch. Descending into the darkness, yet only seeing the light, a figure appeared from the hallucination. A woman bathed in radiant light and wearing an all white shift blossomed from the light, her hair fluttering as she smiled in an imagined breeze. She appeared, old, perhaps, it her sixties. Her olive-colored skin looked just as he chose to remember it. She appeared an off-worlder, born on some distant, tropical planet. She was human. She was beautiful in her old age. This woman smiled at him delicately as she floated closer to him.

In the darkness, the Ranger’s steps became unhinged, jaunted. He half-skipped and dragged his feet as he descended deeper and deeper. The woman fell to embrace him in the warmth of the imagined light. Smiling soothingly. In his ear she cooed, 'I’m always with you Cnauir. You have nothing to fear from the shadows. I will always protect you.' In that very moment, the mocking voices rose to a fevered pitch, Nine by ten, its time to wake up again! Stopping in his tracks, the Ranger shuddered horribly as his world became bathed in inky darkness once more. He looked around his surroundings for a short time with wild suspicion as he continued to desperately clutch at the locket and began breathing techniques to calm himself. Slowly, he turned around until he faced the entrance.

It was only then that it occurred to him just how far he had ventured. The presence he felt, that ethereal sensation was but a distant pull at his senses. He could not make out the group from his current position, just vague outlines. He had to guess that the tunnel went straight down for several thousand meters before it diverged. The Ranger then remembered that he had seen the fork in the tunnel and wheeled around to stare at it once more. By now his breathing had relaxed some. The sweat upon his brow had cooled, while the sweat upon his body clung to him in an uncomfortable fashion. In the darkness, he weighed his options. Left was a mystery that begged exploration, but so did the way to the right. Reasoning that both paths would eventually lead to the mine’s center shaft, the Ranger surmised it really didn’t matter which path he chose.

Still, as he calmed, he continued to weigh his options. He could continue forward, alone, undisturbed by the others. They wouldn’t have to know how close he came to teetering over the abyss. He wouldn’t tell them, regardless, however, the armored Renelo could probably have sensed his momentarily unraveling. It’d been quite some time, since Cnauir was forced to practice the art of shielding his mind from invaders. He was noticeably out of practice. Still, he had a loose sense of duty to these men to warn them of what awaited them deeper in this tunnel. Left or right their fates would be sealed. If a dragon had, indeed, made this place its home, it was well dug in. Through the eyes of one who was accustomed to the darkness, who could see in it without the aid of technology, he tried to discern what was further down the left path. However, his natural sight could only allow him to see so far. So, with a tap of a button, he turned on his nightvision. The left curved about two hundred and fifty meters in. With a frown, he did something he did not want to do.

“Renlo,” he called over their internal channel, “I’ve entered the cave. It ends after fifteen hundred meters. There is a fork. The path left goes straight for two hundred and fifty meters and then curves.” He paused, unused to talking so much. A flash of annoyance brought him comfort as it signified that he was slowly returning back to his normal self. How he loathed the way he had to work with others. “The path right,” a momentary pause. Should he lie or tell the truth? Quickly, he shot his head right to scan ahead. “The path right curves after about fifty meters. From here I can hear the echo of wind rolling through these tunnels. Somewhere deeper in the shaft is an opening. Probably in its roof. If there is a dragon about, that is mostly likely where it nests.” Again he pauses and grimaces. Why did he have to relay all of this?

Slowly, his hold over his prized locket releases and his hand fell to his side. Momentarily, he left the channel open as static and silence filled the void. Turning around once again, he began to stare at the tunnel’s entrance. His eyes reluctant. With an audible sigh, he asked, “what would you like me to do?”

 

[Xan]

The Ranger confirmed the suspicions that the small town was as empty as was expected, then continued moving forward at a rapid pace that suggested practice, expertise, and an almost hurried need to accomplish his task. The man went from building to building with a great enough speed that when he was finished and racing towards the cave mouth, Alexander and the two men were still moving through the dilapidated town. Renelo was beginning to wonder if he should just leave the two men in the town so that he could move faster, considering the fact that they were very likely to be eaten by the dragon if he took them into that cave. Perhaps even worse, they would probably prove to be more distraction than helpful allies against a Krayt Dragon. 'Hmm...well, there are advantages and disadvantages to either side of the choice, though I think that it would be best for all involved if...' At that moment, Xanthus began to notice something strange, a warping in the Force that he recognized as a strong surge of negative emotion, or perhaps it was a mind being twisted and fractured. As a Sith and Assassin, Xanthus was prone to sense sudden emotional surges, and this one was quite 'loud,' creating significant ripples that were detectable by those with the gift. This darkness was emanating from the Ranger, who even now was making his way into the cavernous maw of the cave. As the darkness grew about the man, Xanthus's eyes opened slightly with curiosity. At the end of the town, a little ways away from the opening of the cavern, Xanthus called for a stop. "Gentlemen, go ahead and stay out here. Continue to sweep the town. Look for anything that can be of use to the Expedition, and make sure that there is no synthetic life hidden anywhere. The Ranger and I will handle the dragon. After all, when doing battle in a cave, having a few is better than having many."

The men were more than relieved that they did not have to fight against a Krayt Dragon and were swift to make their ways deeper into the town. As for Xanthus, he was free to move at a much greater speed. He arrived at the mouth of the cavern and had begun to descend when he heard the voice of the Ranger in his ears. As the Ranger relayed his information, Xanthus was descending into the cavern, feeling somewhat impressed at the speed with which the other man had descended. "Well Ranger, I leave the decision to you." At this moment, Xanthus decided that he would need to choose his next words rather carefully. It was obvious that the Ranger preferred to work alone, and his hesitation to inform Xanthus about the right path meant that he was probably favoring the left. Perhaps it was so that he could escape having to work with others, or perhaps it was simple curiosity for what lay down that way? Perhaps it was something else entirely, or perhaps Xanthus was simply looking too deeply into the question. In any case, Xanthus decided that he would attempt to give the man some personal space. With him potentially coming apart at the seams, a bit of time with himself in the cool and dark cave would likely do some good. "The way that I see it, the Expedition needs the entirety of this cave system explored as a part of this task. That said, if you take the left way, I'll take the path on the right. An acceptable arrangement?"

 

[Befallen]

The Ranger turned in the darkness, his pulse fluttering still. He looked ahead of him, back the way he had come. Pale red eyes from his helm shining in any light that might have been reflected at him. He stood there stock still and rigid. His hand, having fallen to his side, tremored ever-so-slightly in the darkness. He still had yet to dispel the darkness from his mind as evident by the tremor. As he waited, he continued to practice old exercises in his effort to relax him. Now would not be the time to allow his darkness to consume him. And, were it up to him, not ever. Before him he could begin to see the sillhouette of the armored figure approach. And, if it were somehow timed perfectly, the Renelo’s words filled his ear. As the stranger spoke, Cnaiur couldn’t help but nearly grin in relief as a sigh existed him.

The armored one seemed to be giving the Ranger his much needed space. Deep within him, though, he was not fool enough to believe it was for any other reason than because he had sense his fracturing mind. Just as Cnaiur could sense the ebb and flow of the Force in others, so could those sensitive to the Force sense his emotional state. It was a begrudging give and take relationship. One, the retired assassin had long ago forgotten about. Nodding in silence, Cnaiur almost uncharacteristically thanked the stranger, but his words fell upon silence. Within nothing more to say, his hand stopped shaking and he gripped his Wellington with both hands and descended down the left path. Once he got to the curve, he paused. It was piteously dark in here.

And while, he could see rather well in complete darkness, his vision was not perfect. So, it was required of him, to have it assisted by his archaic helm. He withdrew his trigger hand to fiddle with the dials on the outside of his helm. In silence, the Ranger said a small prayer that his equipment would work without the need to reboot. A moment later, his lenses flickered. Ahead of him, an IR light began to bathe the cavern ahead in invisibile light. Immediately thereafter, his red lenses flickered, sputtered and cooperated. The elf sighed in relief and said a silent prayer to a Goddess who’d long since turned her back on him. With his gear sorted, he began his trek, renewed.

As he walked, he slowly slumped forward, falling back into old habits. His steps once more began predatory, his purpose - for the moment clear and succinct. He knew exactly why he was here and what needed doing. And that - at least for now - was enough. He carefully paid attention to the wall of the cavern. Noting its stalagmites and the general soundness of this tunnel at least. Further ahead, he noted the tunnel wound to the left and sloped downward. Wherever he was head, he was going deeper. The sound of the wind from earlier steadily and softly echoed, but whether or not it was near or far remained undetermined. Reaching the slope, he took a moment to look beyond it and deeper into the depths. He got the sensation of being watched and desperately tried to cast it from his mind. The Ranger’s thoughts returned to his wife’s locket and the feeling began to fade.

Consciously, he shouldered his repeater before descending deeper into the unknown down the slope. As he descended, he wagered that it dropped gradually for about three hundred meters before it leveled off and the tunnel opened up into a modest cavern. Moving away from the tunnel’s entrance, he found nearby shelter and cover behind a boulder. Pressing his body against it, he peaked around to get a better idea of his surroundings. He couldn’t tell how high the ceiling was, perhaps one hundred and seventy-five meters? It couldn’t be more than that. Dropping his head, he swept the IR light across the open expanse, noting rubble, stalagmites and boulders. However, no dragon was seen.

Returning to rest behind the boulder, he stared at the tunnel’s mouth as he radioed Renolo, “Renelo. I’ve reached a modest cavern. No sign of the dragon. Once I hear from you, I’ll be moving on.”