Open The Haunted Haven

[Isen Ramm]

Mission Pack: A Haven For The Wayward
The Haunted Haven (Ord Cestus)
​

During the galactic AMS crisis, ghost stories began to arise in reference to a haunted Haven-Class Medical Station floating between Dathomir and the original home for the station, Ord Cestus. Spacers in the region began to circulate stories that the former Republic med station showed no outward signs of being powered, yet that the station was very much occupied. These types of stories take on a life of their own, of course, and soon the occupants of the Ord Cestus station ranged from cursed beasts to ghosts to phantoms. Soon, the stories began to congeal with many similarities.

Most of the stories were in agreement that there was some sort of black magic or dark energy associated with whoever or whatever was aboard the station. Rumors abound of explorers flying around and attempting to dock or land inside the station but never returning. Most discredit these accounts as mere ghost stories, playing on the history and mythology that springs out of nearby Dathomir.

Still, the station certainly exists and has all appearances of being neglected. The Jedi, now determined to get various Haven-Class Medical Stations back online and operational for the betterment of the galaxy, selected the old Ord Cestus station as one of their targets. Three Jedi were selected to get the Ord Cestus station back on line and operational, two Jedi Knights, Vahn Berand and Isen Ramm, and a padawan, Rishe Vakren. The trio of Jedi were being transported to the station aboard a Vaya-Class Scout Ship, an old model with not many frills. The Jedi wouldn't pay top dollar for a ride from the Ord Cestus starport to the supposed haunted med station, and the three Jedi certainly got what they paid for. This was an ancient ship with an old, and jittery Sullustan pilot named Tan Funda. Old pilot, old ship. Funda wasn't at all excited about making the trip to the med station with "all those ghosts." He apparently had bought in to the stories, but his need for a payday overrode his fear of phantoms.

The Jedi negotiated that for a little extra pay, he would keep his ship on board the station long enough to see if the comms on the station were operational enough to send and receive before he would leave them to contend with the horrors that surely permeated the ship. All in all, the ship was dutiful enough, and the massive station came into view. Starting as a small speck that appeared to be just another star, it grew as they got closer. Upon approach, the station did not give any appearance of use. Lights could be not be seen to be working. None of the mobile parts of the station were moving. None of the transport ship ports were open. All the bay doors were closed.

"How are we going to board the station?" Isen asked to himself, but loud enough for everyone near the cockpit to hear.

"Well, that's going to be a problem if this station is unmanned," Funda said. "This old ship isn't fitted to hook up to those extended docking ports. Someone's going to have to open one of the bay doors."

"I guess hail the station, captain." Isen said. "If nobody answers, I guess we're back to the drawing board."

As the captain was about to hail the station, an action that most probably thought was in vain, one of the ship bay doors opened without request. The pilot's eyes opened wide, the action only confirming his fears about the ship being haunted. In fairness, Isen thought it odd as well. He would give a glance to the other two Jedi, because this was suspicious. The Kiffar patted captain Funda on the shoulder. "It's going to be fine, Captain. And we have a deal, right? Put her down, and as soon as we can determine the status of the station's comms, you can leave."

Shaking in fear, the captain would try to be a man of his word. He turned the ship wide heading for the now open entrance for landing space ships. As they approached the bay doors and crossed the threshold into the station, the bocking day was littered with abandoned ships.

Perhaps the stories were true?

@Stick @The Steel Stag

 

[Rishe Vakren]

Stories may have just been stories, as mundane people feared what was alien and unknown to them. Without the guidance of the Force or the benefit of experience, what other explanation could there be but esoteric magick and ghost stories? So, the captain's fear or the appearance of the derelict station from the exterior hadn't affected Rishe, but not due to any fearlessness on her part. She didn't think it likely that agents of the Dark Side would infest a place like this.

Yet, when the battered, outdated scout ship settled into the bocking day of the station, a prickle of concern traced the back of her neck. The hangar was as lifeless as a graveyard, and each ship clumsily parked seemed its own tombstone for the crew. A shameful feeling filled her at the thought - was she getting superstitious too? There was no grave, just abandoned ships on an abandoned station.

ATM: TYPE III. GRV: 0.13 ? (θ)12.21° (φ)1.23° ​

She didn't know what it meant. The words might pop out to someone more experienced with piloting, the atmosphere being type III with gravity nearly nonexistent - and at a skewed angle at that - but it blended in with other bits of nonsensical information to the padawan's eyes. Though to her credit, she was able to notice something in the hangar. "Master Ramm. Look at the cables over there."

Rishe points towards one ship in particular, a vague shape in the gloom, shielded from the light past the hangar door by other ships that landed after it. Yet it didn't land like the rest, but had skidded over to its side, leaving deep furrows and streaks of some dark, ichor-like substance upon the metallic floor. One of the landing gear was bent, locked tightly to the ground, and thick cables and rods dangled in the air as if submerged, moving slightly to the whims of the barest atmosphere as air leaked past weakening hangar shields.

Then, the hangar doors slid shut behind them, slowly locking away the soft, broad light. They were left in stark, contrasting darkness, with the hangar illuminated only by a pitiful beam of light from the scout ship. She felt that prickle again, and took in a breath.

"The doors might just be automatic, since it needs to conserve air." The padawan says. "I... can get us some breath masks."

She stepped out of the cockpit quickly to search for the required items in the back of the ship, leaving behind the two Knights and a poor, poor Sullustian Captain in the process of losing his mind. She'd still be in earshot, it's a small ship.

@Isen @The Steel Stag

 

[Vahn Berand]

Vahn Berand stirred uncomfortably in his seat. It had been some time; at least two years since he had been performing official Jedi business and his unfamiliarity showed despite himself. Even still, he felt this was a good way to start again. Jedi business wasn’t all lightsabers and blasters; sometimes it was just making sure people had access to medicine and healthcare. If only things were like that more often.

Before him, a little green and black BG unit rolled back and forth while chirping away in anxious droidspeak. Vahn grinned, watching the little roller droid bleat out its little concerns. Ralta had always been a bit too fretful, always concerned about what he ate, what he did, and how he did it. Now, she was worrying about the details and danger of the mission at hand.

“How many haunted space stations or outer rim outposts have turned out to just be kind of spooky and mynock infested?” Vahn asked, tucking the lid of the weathered, tea-filled cannister of tea which he had been using as a cup against his chest.

“Okay, that derelict ship off of Utapau was kind of weird.”

The droid tittered.

“Yes, and that research outpost on Sumitra.”

Ralta let out a low whine.

“Okay, I really don’t want to talk about Umbara. I never did find out what happened to that blurrg. You could hear it for miles all night. I still get shivers thinking about it,” He continued grinning as the droid rolled in a fretful circle, and winked conspiratorially to the young Padawan who had entered the cabin just in time to hear the tail end of his back and forth with the droid.

Vahn looked askance as the hollow vibrations of the old scout ship rattled the compartment. His commlink had set off an alert when they had reached a certain distance from the medical station but he was surprised. Every description of the station that he had managed to

“Seems we’ve arrived at our destination?” Vahn asked. “Alas,” he said, before draining the last sips of his tea; a sweet, herbal Ryloth brew this time and secured the lid back onto the slim semi-cylindrical canteen resting in a pouch at his belt. He stood, and adjusted the white and grey jedi robes that both hung loose in places, and seemed tailor fit to hug his proportions.

Ralta whistled at him while the young Padawan rummaged about for rebreather masks.

“Thank you, Padawan Vakren,” Vahn said as he took a rebreather. “Ralta was just telling me that the atmosphere may be...inhospitable in there," he paused then.

"Relax, it'll be alright. You have two Knights with you. We'll take care of you," Vahn said to Rishe, just quiet enough to not be overheard. He then exited into the small cargo and boarding compartment at the rearmost section of the ship. He leaned over on a railing just off the side of the boarding ramp.

“In fact, you know what; I have a good feeling about this. What could go wrong?” Vahn said, his gaze turned impishly back towards the cockpit as he heard an audible groan from the captain. He'd been gently ribbing the Captain for the whole journey, and he basked in one last jab before fitting the breath mask over his face. The device was only partially suffocating as he breathed

“But, just in case… Captain Funda you should keep the ship’s engines warm. As a precaution,” he said, his voice muffled by the mask, before shrugging helplessly towards his fellow two Jedi.

Vahn winced as the hatch leading from the compartment snapped shut behind the three Jedi as the atmosphere regulated to match the hangar outside. The boarding ramp hissed and moaned moments later, and Vahn descended onto the cold, low gravity of the abandoned hangar with the glaring floodlights of the scout ship at his back.

@Isen @Stick

 

[Isen Ramm]

Master Ramm, Rishe called him. Fresh from completing his trials, being called that by the padawans was a bit of a shock. Now he understood why some of the knights and masters prefer for everyone to call them by their first name with no honorary title. Isen was a little different though, being brought up in a very orthodox convent that upheld the "old ways." She pointed to one ship in particular, a ship that did not land with a lot of grace. Isen studied it through the viewport. "That's a transport ship. Could have been quite a few people on there."

Isen stood there, looking out the viewport in thought, thinking about the crashed transport ship. There was another, the same model, that landed just fine next to it. When Rishe returned with his breathing apparatus, Isen nodded in thanks and turned to follow the other knight out of the ship. While traveling from one place to another through space was not new to Isen, landing and actually working in space certainly was. He struggled at first with the weightlessness, floating aimlessly. His efforts to "swim" were embarrassingly unsuccessful. Once he got going in a direction, he had to wait until he could grab something or bounce of a surface to go a different direction. He learned that essentially, to go long distances, you had to push off and be pretty particular about the direction you were going. It was an odd learning curve.

Isen finally managed to get to one of the ships and looked inside the cockpit through its windows. It was empty. He pulled himself down to the hull and pulled down the ramp so he could go inside. He inspected the ship. Nobody home anywhere. Isen pulled himself into the cockpit of the ship and clicked on several of the ships systems. He accessed the digital flight log. This ship left nearby Celanon just two weeks ago. He spoke to the crew through his breathing helmet, "This ship landed within the last two weeks. Something tells me all of these ships arrived recently. At least in comparison to how long this station has been dormant. Maybe we should check the ship logs to be sure." About fifteen of ships were parked haphazardly around the docking bay.

Isen pushed off and floated to the transport ship that managed to survive the landing. He wormed his way into the cockpit and flipped on the necessary systems to access the data logs and flight logs. According to the graphic on the wall, this ship was fit for two pilots and 40 passengers. Isen swallowed as he looked at the date on the flight log. This ship departed for its last flight from Dathomir right in the middle of the AMS crisis, and Dathomir was a hotbed for the virus. Isen considered the goo in the transport that wrecked, and he hoped his worst fears would not be realized. It was almost certain they departed Dathomir together.

The Jedi Knight pulled himself out of that transport ship and pushed off toward the crashed ship of the same model. It crashed and skidded all the way to the back of the landing bay, and the light that made it here from the Vaya-Class ship left more shadows than vision. The poor old scout ship's light just wasn't cutting through the darkness very well back here. The cables floating from the ship gave the appearance of a hydra waiting for an opening for one it's biting heads to snap and attack. Isen entered the ship, and the smell was grotesque. It was a smell he smelled once before- in the underground passages of Nar Shaddaa fighting the zombie-like creatures affected by AMS. While the others ships he inspected were generally clean and free of evidence of chaos, this ship was not the same. The ship was plastered with blood and entrails of those that made the trip on this ship mixed with the oozing plasma that AMS victims secreted from their bodies.

Isen pulled himself out of the ship and managed to float toward the center of the docking bay among the ships. He would give them the bad news. "Things have gotten more complicated. I'm pretty sure that AMS is alive and well on this ship." He would pause, giving them time to process that. "If we're going to get control of this station, we're going to see the living dead face to face. I don't know if any of you fought against this crisis, but do not get bit. Do not get scratched. Watch your back. Keep your head on a swivel. They are fast, and they are aggressive. And finally...they are extremely contagious."


@Stick @The Steel Stag

 

[Rishe Vakren]

While Knight Berand's gesture was kind, it did strike sudden irritation within the padawan, though the emotion escaped only in a sigh as she handed the mask over. "Master Berand, I am not -" But he had left her behind as if being sensible and discrete about her fears, escaping her retort. One instance wasn't enough to drive her mad, but every Knight she'd met had either assumed fear or terror from her. It wasn't. It never was. She's just cautious. She doesn't hesitate, she's just deliberate.

“In fact, you know what; I have a good feeling about this. What could go wrong?”

She joined the other two, securing her satchel tightly around her back and adjusting the typical brown robes as the effect of gravity left her, and the lack of atmosphere tugged oddly at her eyes and ears. It wasn't absent, but she had to try pinching her nose through the mask to equalize pressure, blowing a few times to get it to work.

Compared to Ramm, it really was a completely new experience for her. She didn't initially adjust to the new lack of gravity, and like the newly-appointed Knight, she struggled for a second before reaching for one of the poles on the boarding ramp for something to push off. After that? Well, she had a burgeoning satchel around her shoulders that acted as a very strange counterweight. With the straps sufficiently loose, she was able to pivot using it, able to aim her feet towards the surface she propelled towards.

With Ramm's investigation of the crashed ship, she looked in other directions. It wasn't a bright light, but she used a tablet from her satchel to check darker areas of the hangar. "If they all arrived recently, what stopped them from leaving?" Rishe asks, her voice muffled by the mask, but carrying across the hangar with an echo. "This station clearly isn't habitable."

Her investigations took her to the blunted nose of a nearby shuttle that had landed near the closed hangar bay doors. A terminal on a control platform - likely for the hangar's systems stood dismantled, hooked up with wires and devices to the same shuttle. A suspicion flickered within her.

And around her? Fear and shock lingered in the hangar, twisted, sinewy threads of emotion buried beneath dust and decay. Whispers left in the Force by the previous inhabitants. The doors didn't seem to cooperate, and something made at least one of these past visitors desperate enough to ram their ship at a chance to escape.

What caused that panic was clear as Ramm addressed them both from the center of the hangar. What was once misgivings and stubborn resolve turned to an icy chill. Suddenly, the darkness felt oppressive, dangerous. She leapt away from the hangar door towards the center, grabbing onto the same pole on the miserable scout ship they'd paid to transit them. What did he mean by fighting against it? She was just an initiate when the news broke, barely fifteen, but she'd heard the stories. Force forbid, she remembered those well.

"What could go wrong indeed." Rishe says, with a rare visible concern. "I don't think we can leave. Someone's tried before us to spike the doors open. Whatever's opening them for new arrivals isn't going to let us out." At this rate, the suggestion that the Jedi would leave might very well entrench those ideas of her fear or anxiety in Berand, but she honestly didn't care as much anymore. If logic looked like cowardice, so be it. The station needed to be vaporized, not cleared out.

She eyed the gloom, keeping herself on the ramp and pole, within the light. She trusted in the Force, but... aside from that fear and panic, she felt something else, the barest hint of smoke at the furthest edge of a fire. Deeper within the station, a taint of a different but not dissimilar kind from the AMS virus.

The ships did come from Dathomir.

@Isen @The Steel Stag

 

[Vahn Berand]

Vahn’s bowels twisted the moment he stepped out onto nearly weightless microgravity. The smallest misplaced step or inattentive movement sent him floating. Oh, minimal gravity at best it seems. He sighed into his breathing mask and shut his eyes, opening himself up to a small flow of The Force. His face twisted in discomfort, and he recoiled briefly as a rush of emotions; pain, confusion, and above all fear assaulted him at once. The hangar was thick with negative emotions, the residue of each thought clinging to every rusted, weathered surface in the hangar bay as sticky and repellant as festering pus. His years travelling the stars had exposed him to all of these feelings fused with the very air around him many times before, but there was something different here. A purity and intensity of emotion that was new to him. He reflexively gripped the lightsaber at his hip.

He took a calming breath, rolled his shoulders and allowed his senses to extend, focusing enough to push through the level of ambient psychological trauma. He raised a hand, and reached out with his mind towards the rusted pylon on the stubby wings of a twisted shuttle that hadn’t quite survived its landing about fifteen yards off from the scout ship. A short, strong Pull was enough to send him sailing through the intervening distance into the dim periphery of the scout ship’s flood lamps. Inertia was sufficient to carry him the full distance. It wasn’t conventional for a Jedi, but without disapproving eyes he’d long since grown accustomed to small, but still unnecessary displays of The Force to help navigate zero-G environments.

Once he got closer, Vahn frowned at the condition of the shuttle. It hadn’t just landed badly in the hangar. Carbon scoring, and deep, ugly furrows that dug into the surface of the hull suggested that the shuttle had limped into the station in an attempt to find somewhere safe to do repairs. The faint illumination of a handful of emergency lights lingering on the interior of the shuttle suggested it had landed recently, as well. Vahn hugged the side of the shuttle and peeked through a narrow viewport just aft of the cockpit. No bodies. If they had survived the landing, why weren’t there any signs of the actual repairs on the ship?

Vahn was liking this mission less and less. It seemed every step they took closer into the station was rising ever more concerning questions. Could the stories have been true? Was there actually something wrong with this medical station? He needed answers. The other two Jedi seemed to have investigations of the various spacecraft in the hangar well under way; a third set of hands couldn’t do any better than they could. There were other questions he could find answers to.

“If I’m remembering what little I could learn of the floorplans of these stations there should be…” Vahn paused, “Ah, there,” he said and Pulled himself from the shuttle towards a square panel on the floor surrounded by grating.

“Ralta, got a job for you,” Vahn said while hooking his fingers under a discretely recessed handle in the floor. He twisted his grip and pulled upwards, slowly drawing out a hip-high chromed pillar docked with faintly glowing read-outs and several data ports around its circumference.

The droid rolled down the boarding ramp and a liquid-cable tether shot from one of several discrete launchers on her chassis with a hollow snap. The magnetic grapple anchored her to the durasteel floor and she reeled herself through the air, bobbing like a green and black balloon towards the service-post. The little BG unit whistled and chirped while she accessed a dataport. Vahn’s frown deepened with each little verse of droidspeak and twist of her scomp link.

“Good news. Seems the reactor is still putting out enough juice to get atmosphere control and gravity back on line. Bad news, the security protocols have been sliced through again and again into Gamorrean slurry over the years. Probably small time scavengers. Admin dumped advanced access privileges on non-essential dataports in self defense, probably years ago. We’re going to have to get closer to Communications before we can re-route the power needed. Probably have to do it sector by sector,” he explained bitterly. Most likely, Ralta could have just overridden the security from here and given them full access to the ship if it weren’t for some ancient security protocol. At least then they’d have an exit.

Isen’s explanation of the severity of the situation brought Vahn no additional comfort. Violent, highly infectious creatures brought to unnatural life were most likely stalking the halls of the medical station, forever on the hunt. Wonderful. At least that would explain the nagging sense of dread emanating from somewhere deep in the medical station.

Vahn shrugged helplessly with a sheepish twist to his brow as the padawan turned his own words against him. Well, alright. Maybe he deserved that one! He gave an approving nod. Even he recognized there was a time and a place for wise cracks and levity, and another time for more serious thought. He turned his full attention back towards Isen.

“You have the most experience with this thing. I’ve never encountered anything like what you describe. I’ve heard a lot of stories, but direct experience always pays off. Do we proceed fast and loud, or slow and quiet?” Vahn asked, already hefting the familiar, comforting weight of his lightsaber in hand.

@Isen @Stick

 

[Isen Ramm]

At least it wasn't a complete loss. The droid was able to determine that the most important systems could come back on line, most notably, to get gravity going and to fill the station with oxygen once more. It was just going to take a little work. With three Jedi, they had a fighting chance to come out of this thing alive. It would have to be tough sledding though.

"Do we proceed fast and loud, or slow and quiet?” was the question posed by Berand.

"We had success mixing it up. Progressed slow while traveling from A to B, but when the infected came at us, we cut them down quick," Isen said. He felt the need to explain why the lack of compassion. "The infected...their brain is washed out. The only thing working is the brain stem. The sentient part of them died long, long ago. The only part of their brain that works is the part that wants to eat you." He cut his between both of his Jedi comrades. "That is not an exaggeration. The react to sound, motion, light. They aren't smart, so they can be outwitted. If we keep our heads...we'll...keep your heads...if you know what I mean."

The knight pushed off closer to where the transport ships were. "But, something in this station besides us can think. Those infected with AMS wouldn't have the mental faculties to open the bay door to let us or the other ships in." Through the faintest of light making it back that far, Isen spotted a door hidden by the crashed transport. "And, since there are no dead pilots from these ships in here, someone is opening the doors to the facility from the hangar." He paused, looking at the door. "And whoever that is could be more dangerous than the mindless flesheaters I'm pretty sure are walking around this station. Never a dull moment, I guess."

Isen pushed and pulled his way to float over to the door. He patted around in the near darkness until his hands ran across a control panel for the droid to hack into. His hands finally felt the cold, rectangular door panel that the rolling droid could hack into. "Here's the panel," Isen said through the helmet's com system. "Think that BG unit could ha...."

Isen was suddenly interrupted by the doors beginning to open, the unmistakable clicking of the doors unlocking and the hiss and grinding of the doors against the frame.

@Stick @The Steel Stag

 

[Rishe Vakren]

Rishe took a deep, steadying breath through the restrictive mask, stretching her hand as her saber slipped from her sleeve to float to her grip. "All we must do is wade through infected, mutated creatures in null gravity to earn the opportunity to tiredly walk back to our ship after those systems are restored." She said, her tone dry. Though, she recognized the purpose of Isen's clarification. He was worried that one of them might hesitate. Probably more pointed at the padawan. So, she spoke again with a nod to defeat any potential concern, "With something this dangerous, there will be no hesitation or carelessness, Master Ramm."

And she did mean it. Life was turning around. She was earning her rank, Ahotta's lightsaber didn't feel as foreign to her as it once did. She was not going to lose her life here. None of them were going to. They weren't on a time crunch, they could afford to take this as slowly as possible. She was considering potential approaches to clearing the station when Isen had floated towards the exit, with Rishe following a few metres behind. These creatures responded to sound, light and -

"Think that BG unit could ha...."

The door unlocked. The dim red lights around the mechanism switching to green, before spinning dizzily into position. With a grinding, hissing strain, the two sides slid open. Beyond was a hallway that ran parallel to the hangar, illuminated only by the fizzling, stark walkway lights along the floors, shining upwards. It was eerie.

But what was within was worse. Spherical globules of blood and gristle flashed like glittering beads as the lights illuminated crouched, hunched figures clinging to the walls. Some were missing limbs. All of them were missing significant parts of their bodies. Uniforms, flight suits, and outfits torn and rent asunder, stained with black and crimson. And with the angle of the hall, she couldn't know their true number.

The worst part to Rishe was the feeling from beyond that door. It was here. Not just the virus, but a taint. A sense of corruption so potent it was physical, a microcosm of what one would feel upon a nexus like Korriban or Dathomir. It leeched into the hangar like a miasma, and as Rishe felt those sickly threads through the Force, she knew they ran deep. Something even worse waited for them further in.

But these things in the hall were a current threat. The door opening drove them to attention, mangled faces staring towards the opening with their bones splintering and cracking as infected muscles tensed. Rishe could feel the heat of the scout ship's spotlight on her back, and knew that she must be floating in contrast with it, her body casting a sharp silhouette in comparison to the stark white light.

They react to light and sound.

An undead creature placed a flesh-stripped hand on the door's entrance, inches away from Isen. Its head emerged past the threshold, a guttural vibration rising in its throat.

@Isen @The Steel Stag

 

[Vahn Berand]

Advance slow, but strike hard. Vahn nodded agreeably to Isen’s suggestion. He could work with that. From his description it also seemed like there wouldn’t be any concerns cutting down these undead creatures efficiently. No worse than cutting down a freshly memory wiped droid. At least, Vahn told himself, there wouldn’t be any debating the ethics of the moment. It helps to adjust to these things when you’re already well familiar with stories of life beyond death.

Vahn anxiously rolled the dormant lightsaber in his hand like a baton, and he clucked his tongue thoughtfully. He anxiously thumbed the activation switch on the lightsaber, a slightly longer than normal utilitarian affair.

Rishe’s abortive statement already had him turning back to the little droid. He was sure there was more he could get the ball droid to do. Then, the grating, scraping sound of the durasteel door behind him had him frozen mid motion.

“How did you-” Vahn asked, perplexed. It shouldn’t have been so easy to get those doors open. He turned slowly, looking half way over his shoulder. He froze in place, eyes wide for a single precious moment as the door opened to reveal the horror beyond.

“Ah kriff.”

He had just a moment, a scattering of seconds, just one razor thin margin to take action and avoid . Isen was nearest to the ghoulish staggering corpses. Rishe was strongly highlighted with the flood lamps at her back. He was furthest from the yawning portal. His instincts took over. Pulled himself forward, landing just in front of the young Padawan. He felt the force pulsing within his veins, invigorating him, bolstering his courage against the crowd of shambling horrors slowly turning to face them.

He lowered a hand to his belt and palmed a single smooth durasteel dart; merely a simple bar of metal sharpened to a fine point, a tool scarcely cruder than simply throwing a stone, but in the right hands still as deadly as any blaster. He secured the dart to his palm with a firm pressure of his thumb, cocking it back towards his head and then, once he had stabilized his posture, flung it forward. The simple cold momentum of being thrown was considerable, but with a soft acceleration from The Force it turned the simple dart into a truly terrifying weapon.

The decaying, corrupted face leaned in close to his fellow Jedi Knight, and just as it started to turn, leering menacingly it suddenly arched back, its expression suddenly frozen in place as the back of its head blew open with a spray of bone and brain matter like a slug thrower had just pulverized it. A hole allowed a comical view through the undead creature’s skull as it drifted slowly in microgravity.

Still bound to him through The Force, that polished durasteel dart turned impossibly through the air, curving down into the narrow spaces of the hallway. It ricocheted, ringing down the hallway like a bell as it deflected off of an unseen surface and rending the air with a metallic din as it buried itself into a metallic surface somewhere down the hallway. Hopefully, the cacophony would prove to be enough of a distraction for a few more precious seconds.

“Kill the ones that get past me.” Vahn said over his shoulder. His tone was soft, unsteady but clear, he wasn’t commanding a subordinate, he was asking for help. He knew he couldn’t handle this alone.

Vahn reoriented his grip through The Force to the space directly below his feet, tethering him in place in the space between Rishe and the abominations rising in the hallway beyond. His gaze grew hard, brow knit as he took in the mass of degloved flesh and rotted, bone-bare corpses. He whirled his lightsaber into the air above him, first starting with a stable, Form III stance. He then breathed, steadied himself and stood tall with the lightsaber hilt held above his head in both hands, muscles coiled like springs to strike powerfully; classic Form V. He needed aggression and power, not defense.

Those few precious seconds he bought with the distraction were sold fast, and he ignited the brilliant azure blue of his lightsaber just before bearing down with a powerful cleaving stroke that separated the first undead monstrosity clean in two down the middle from brow to groin.

@Isen @Stick

 

[Isen Ramm]

The door opening was a surprise. An undead face ready to chomp a chunk of flesh out of Isen's neck...also a surprise. But the surprise that Isen was grateful for the most, was the one that resulted in that undead face getting turned into a canoe by Vahn's projectile. Isen watched as the blood and puss and bits of rotted flesh exploded from his head only to start floating slowly in plasma-like globs in all directions.

Isen threw his body weight behind him and used his feet to kick off the zombie's chest to flip backward to create some space. The mass of bodies came in. They were fast, hyped up on the super-trooper chemicals that turned them into incredibly strong, incredibly fast monsters. The saving grace for the Jedi was that the zombies faced the same weightlessness and low gravity as the Jedi- a fact which thankfully slowed their advance.

Still, seven or eight of them poured in floating quickly and directly for Vahn and Rishe. Five more floated in, chomping and clawing in anticipation of getting their jaws and claws on Isen. The Kiffar Jedi was able to get his footing as the mindless, floating chompers floated within a few feet of him. Isen gave three quick motions with his hands and three of the five quickly reversed their momentum with the Force push in directions away from the Jedi. Just as one of the zombies was setting up for a slashing claw, one of Isen's lightsabers zipped into his hand, and in one clean motion, the cyan blade dissected the undead at the waist. The knight followed that with a near mirror image as his other lightsaber zipped into his left hand, the blade igniting and continuing it's path catching the fifth zombie and slicing him into two separate pieces as well.

One of the three that Isen sent for a ride was getting its bearing on the crashed transport vehicle. Using the Force, Isen manipulated the cords and cables floating above it to entangle the monster. Isen lost one of them. He had inadvertently sent him back through the door. He banged off a back wall and ricocheted weightlessly in some unknown direction. That only left the fifth one who was violently pushing off a wall himself to fly at rapid speed like a torpedo at Isen.

And as such, this really exemplified the problem these AMS monsters had against thinking, reasoning sentients. At the end of the day, they were only operating with their brain stem, and they had one mode: attack. Against sentients that kept their cool, their aggression could be their undoing. Isen used the lack of gravity to his advantage and jumped up slightly positioning himself out of arm's length for the AMS infected Dathomirian who could not change his direction in the weightless atmosphere. His pale, rotting face snarled, but came to a sudden stop as Isen, while staying out of arms length, did not take himself out of lightsaber length. With a scissoring motion of his blades, the horned head separated from the neck and floated off in the direction of the other two Jedi still chomping for a moment. The rest of his body continued floating until it hit a ship and careened off to the side.

Isen checked the doorway for the last of his group, but he presumably was still floating down the hallway. Isen's pushing and floating had placed a parked ship between himself and the other two Jedi. He could see the flashing of the blades as the Jedi were presumably mowing down some of undead of their own. "You guys all square?"

@The Steel Stag @Stick

 

[Rishe Vakren]

Rishe was surprised by how quickly Master Berand took the front, protecting her in her exposed status. She felt foolish, kicked herself for the hesitation, for allowing herself to be in such a compromised situation that forced him to take such a brash, dangerous position.

With a dart and his saber, he held that door. And even if it wasn't meant as a command? “Kill the ones that get past me.”

Rishe would. She pushed hard on her satchel, yanking her at a skew towards the floor of the hangar. Using the weighty object around her shoulders as that anchor due to a constant push of the Force, she found herself almost approximating gravity. Her saber fell from her hand, staying still in the microgravity, assisted by her use of the Force. She inhaled. She cleared her mind of regret, of hesitation. One wrong move would get the Knights bit.

And then she pushed her saber forward, much like that dart. Just as Ramm dealt with several infected creatures that had leaked past, the simple durasteel hilt of her former master's saber flashed towards one of the undead that had launched itself to where she'd been only seconds prior.

Then it ignited. Rishe's hand was outstretched, and a flex of her fingers flipped the activation switch through the Force, cutting an unsteady arc through the reanimated corpse, slicing an arm, pelvis, and single leg away. She frowned, making a mental note of the other undead that threatened her and Berand. She needed to adjust, to do this quickly.

Like it was animated itself, the hilt adjusted, cleaving the creature's head in two with a golden arc. Then it deactivated, rushing towards Berand, toppling end over end. It activated on the way, creating a shimmering, glowing buzzsaw that cleft another undead and leaving it in bloody, pulpy ribbons as it continued before deactivating again.

This was a rare opportunity for the Padawan. Weak in the force, but with a strong, disciplined control over what she was able to muster, it was simple to maneuver the hilt without worrying about a smarter opponent or with managing the various forces of gravity. It let the padawan's potential truly shine. The hilt halted near Berand as if attached to a bungee, a bright amber light emerging near him as an undead found their infected brain ventilated by a neat, clean hole. Then it lurched back again, Rishe switching her saber between the most threatening target at a time, using small nudges of the force to keep herself stationary, unmoving, and occasionally to misalign a creature's trajectory before swiftly disabling it or rendering it into a pulp. The saber cut broad arcs around the padawan as her robes and hair floated about her, before it lunged forward like a blaster bolt at a creature that threatened the knight, the blade shearing part of its face away.

Anything that had gotten past Berand, Rishe handled. And she did not suffer the creatures a chance to advance anywhere close to either of them. Around Master Berand, three corpses idly floated, hands outstretched, jaws opened for an attack, and each had relatively uneven carbonized holes in their skulls.

Around herself? It was less clean. A semicircular orb of gore, viscera, and strings of flesh and connective tissue expanded away, pushed by the momentum of the saber's strikes. Anything that had gotten close was reduced to a strange slurry. With some discomfort, she found a disembodied hand floating past her face, and she shivered as she shied away from it.

She noticed she was sweating as Ramm checked in on them. Force be thanked that he didn't seem injured. "I... think so. I feel fine. Master Berand?" She asks towards the Knight at the door, clearly more concerned about the man who seemed to have taken the brunt of the combat.

@Isen Ramm @Vahn Berand

 

[Vahn Berand]

Stability, focus, power, and precision. In this moment he displays all of these things as he keeps himself rooted in front of that yawning door as it vomited a horde of flesh hungry monstrosities. In its face he holds firm; a bulwark against the infected, unmoving.

Above all, however, he shows trust. A proper swordsman should, in all situations keep a high level of situational awareness. In this moment however, he focused on the task before him, his saber flashing in wide, powerful arcs as the tide of infected threaten to roll over the two Jedi.

He paid little mind to covering himself from other directions, his mind solely focused on holding this ground at the foot of the veritable hellmouth before him. Recklessly, his mind was solely fixed on holding his position, even taking forward steps with authority as his lightsaber cleaved through body after body. He had to hold it here. If he faltered, the simple mass of bodies rushing into the hangar would force them to retreat. Without the ability to take off, they’d be forced into a chaotic zero-G battle throughout the hangar. There, with just one mistake.... He had to hold. He had to draw a line in the sand. No one gets past without challenge. He did his part, but others flowed around his circle of control, and here he had to trust. There was no way he could accomplish this task if it weren’t for the other Jedi working to prevent him from being surrounded and overwhelmed.

There was a fluid economy to his motions. An upward cut, completely bisecting an infected dathomiri into two smoldering halves would then mutate into a deep lunging thrust through the mouth of another undead, searing the hunger mad remnants of its brain. The saber would be wrenched free, charged up for him to twist his wrists into a shallow cut that would remove an attacking claw, and followed through with a shallow cut through the face of another. It was in this way, showing the years of precision and training he had acquired that he held his position.

By the end, his lightsaber was held low, and his posture was stooped. Necrotic pus and ooze stained his silver-grey robes in places, and his hands and face were streaked with the greasy remnants of carburized rot and blood. But, he was standing and though his robes were torn in places, he didn’t seem to have been bitten or scratched. Before him, more than half a dozen Dathomiri corpses floated through the microgravity in charred pieces. He was thankful for his breathing mask; at least that would filter out the certain damnable scent of seared rot.

“I’m alright. I’m good.” Vahn replied to Isen, his own appraising eye turning over the other Jedi. Good, no apparent wounds. “They’re faster than I thought. I’ve never seen something not even get slowed down by having an arm chopped off with a lightsaber.”

Rishe’s question caused him to turn, and he gave a grateful nod.

“You kept me alive. Good work, thank you. I owe you one.” He offered to the young Padawan with an approving thumbs up.

He grinned through the pain. He had been battered by thrashing, suicidal attacks more than he liked. The discrete armor plating in his robes had caught the worst of it, however. His gaze wandered to the hangar bay floor, tracing the line of carnage he had just traversed, and he grimaced. Three feet. He had sacrificed three feet. They had pushed him back that far, and he had nearly broken. He needed to be better. But he couldn’t show it. Ralta had caught up with him by this point, and whined in quiet, concerned droidspeak.

His lightsaber whined to dormancy, and he dusted some carbon from his robes, doing more to smear the grease than anything else. He then spent a moment looking back, and there, he spotted a security camera array, vaguely pointed in their direction. He didn’t even know if it was functional. He didn’t even know if they were actually being watched by anyone. But something… something wasn’t right here. The way the door just opened, the way the infected seemed to have been in just the right place to attack....

“Your little attack dogs failed! You’d better get ready, because we’re coming for you next!” Vahn shouted, before turning to walk straight into the newly opened hallway, his boots squelching through the remnants of viscera clogging the hall.

@Isen @Stick

 

[Isen Ramm]

The Kiffar Jedi was happy to see that both of his comrades had made it through relatively unscathed. Both relayed that they were good, and Berand was right- this was unlike anything else in the galaxy. They are in feed mode all the time, and nothing stops them unless their brain stops working. "The hardest thing for most Jedi to get over seems to be coming to a realization that they are no longer sentients. It seems like a mass killing of intelligent forms, but as you can see..." He shook his head. "It's not."

Isen had just started pushing and floating his way toward the door when Berand yelled out his warning to whatever was controlling the doors in this med station. Isen was able to use a slight Force push to get himself stopped for a moment and gave a pause just to make sure it didn't cause a lingering zombie to come through the door. He wasn't sure how much sound was carrying in this environment, but he wasn't taking any chances either. After all, one of the bodies he force pushed through the door is still out there somewhere. He may well have gotten himself turned around by now is headed back in their direction.

But, it was time to advance. Isen ignited his lightsabers to provide some light and floated through the door that led to a long, circular hallway that offered them directions to both the left and the right. Was there a right choice? A wrong choice? The knight looked at the other two and the droid. "Does the droid have a line on where to go to get gravity oxygen pumping back into this place and help us get our footing?"

Woops...it seems they forgot about the pilot. He probably watched the events unfolded and passed out in the cockpit. Isen went to comms. "Captain Funda..........."Captain Funda?........"

"I'm....I'm here," Funda reported back over comms.

"How are you doing in there?"

"Not, uh, not too good. What were those things?"

"That Captain, is what AMS looks like if you haven't seen it yet. Keep the doors locked and you'll be fine. They aren't going to be doing any critical thinking, so I'll doubt they'll be able to slice their way in. The glass should be more than strong enough to hold up if a mob comes in here and starts banging on it." Isen started thinking. These were super-jacked monster, designed to be stronger, faster, deadlier super-soldiers. "Should be. But, do not leave this station without hearing from us. If we get to comms and can't get it online, we're marooned up here."

@The Steel Stag @Stick

 

[Rishe Vakren]

If the Jedi Knight said he was fine, Rishe would accept it without much complaint, yet... she had kept track of the fight, visually and mentally observing the shifting tides of their brief skirmish. Vahn had stubbornly refused to give any ground, and the battle marked him in gore and left him exhausted.

"You took the brunt of it, Master Vahn. Even a fresh apprentice would have been able to keep the rest off your back." Rishe said, though the humble nature of her words didn't hide the pride she felt at his thanks. It felt good to be doing something right. And for a moment in the hangar... she had felt powerful. It was a rare feeling for her.

Though she could feel the contradictions. Just as she displayed humility and he displayed strength, the Force often told different stories, and foreign emotion and sensation had always resonated strongly with her. Determination, pain, relief, fear, exhaustion. Fresh, new, tangled strands of emotions yet to be woven into the tapestry that covered the station. While she could not exactly follow each thread to each source, she could take a rather educated guess as to who was feeling what. That meant Vahn might be bearing too large a burden, so the Padawan needed to prove her worth and pick up more slack.

And beyond the door that Vahn just held, there was that malice and corruption woven deep within the station. Vahn had noticed the cameras, but Rishe was less concerned over their apparent overseer and more concerned about what caused this taint. The Dark side of the Force yawned hungrily at them. Yet, she followed Ramm past the door, letting the aged sensations surround her.

She kept that push on her satchel helping her anchor to the floor, though she permitted herself to float from time to time to avoid the splattered viscera. "I don't know much about droids or stations." She said, in response to Ramm looking her way with his question. So, she shifted her gaze - and the responsibility of answering - towards Vahn. Perhaps that would get the determined Knight to lag behind as she edged towards the front of the group, igniting her saber in a defensive posture and mixing the golden glow with the deep blue from Ramm's own weapons. She was cautious, naturally, but she wasn't aware of the one creature Ramm had pushed back through the door.

"The door was opened remotely, yes?" Rishe asked the two knights. "I feel there might be something more at play than a single madman working buttons to toy with us. And some of those things are - were - Dathomirians. The virus can't be the only thing infecting the station."

@Isen @The Steel Stag

 

[Vahn Berand]

Vahn couldn’t hide the amused smile as Rishe shrugged off his praise.

“Even still, I’m glad it’s you watching my back. Have you seen some of the saber work of the other padawans? So sloppy! Who’s training them these days?” he said, grinning, before her words made him nod solemnly. "I fear your intuitions are probably correct. There's something else at work here, something I can't quite..." he trailed off, silence looming before he turned to Isen once he was addressed.

“Ralta, show us where we need to be going,” Vahn said, gesturing into the gore caked corridor. The little droid wheeled over,ambling awkwardly in microgravity while using a liquid cable tether to make short jumps. She paused just before the threshold of the hallway. The dome shaped processor unit atop her spherical body leaned forward, observing the fetid mess before snapping back up to look at him. She whistled an angry, discordant note, and Vahn put his hands up in a helpless gesture.

“It’s not my fault! I didn’t throw meat chunks everywhere! I’ll give you a good oil bath when we get home, I promise,” he pleaded.

A moment of silence followed before the droid latched a magnetic tether to the wall next to Vahn, and drew itself in between the three Jedi. She secured herself in place with a second tether before a compartment on its hemispherical dome slid open, and a holographic projection of the station materialized in the dusty air.

“Alright, so she told me that it’s actually a fairly straight shot to Comms. We can probably gain access to the station’s core systems there. Problem is, everything is locked down. It really would have just been a matter of following the halls deeper into the station. However…” Vahn said.

“Option 2” Vahn started, before pointing upwards. A rusted, narrow barred grate was positioned just above the three Jedi. “These old Clone Wars stations were all honeycombed with ventilation ducts. No idea why they’re so big, they must have been a nightmare for security,” he then shrugged. “But these can get us past the first locked gates into the inner station. If we follow these ducts we can get to a turbolift, which should still have maintenance access to the Environmental deck. She said there’s something weird going on there though, some kind of strange temperature and humidity readings from the few instruments she could get access to.”

He then turned back towards his fellow two Jedi.

“Sounds like a plan?”

@Isen @Stick

 

[Isen Ramm]

Isen looked up. The vents. He was curious how honeycombed it was and what sort of maze they would get themselves into up there. On the bright side, however, they should avoid zombies and the like in the ventilation system. Also a plus, while it was roomy enough for them to traverse through it, he couldn't imagine their being enough room that it would be difficult to navigate the current gravity issue. The main corridors were significantly more likely to come across rabid AMS sufferers and much larger, making the lack of gravity a much more troublesome issue. It certainly made since to him.

"The vents work for me. I see more positives than negatives." Isen said. He thought about what the temperature and humidity readouts might mean. Of course, the entire thing was supposed to be empty and the humidity should have been zero by the time they got there. "Speaking of security, I guess the security systems are down? Cameras? Heat sensors?" He gave a long look at the doorway to the main corridor that was open as well as the bay door that exited to deep space. "Something in security is working, right? They knew we were here, and they opened the doors. Can Ralta tell us if whatever is waiting for us will know we're coming through the vents?"

Isen looked over at Rishe. "What are your feelings telling you? Or your good sense for that matter? Is there something we're missing?" Isen asked the padawan because, not being too far removed from being a padawan himself, he remembered all too well being on missions with knights and masters who would discuss plans, often times the obvious answer staring them in the face. But Jedi, so as they are, often try to bring deep thought and philosophy into simple strategy. They can't see the forest because of the trees as it were. He always wanted to speak up, but never felt his place. If only someone had asked him...He didn't intend to let the padawans he went on missions with feel the same way.

@The Steel Stag @Stick

 

[Rishe Vakren]

It was then that Rishe knew Master Berand's praise was inflated. She was far from the best duelist in her padawan cohort. And... while a lot of the padawans lacked in many areas, they usually took to their sabers quite well. She may have been the sloppy padawan he's noticed. She had kept trying to put her hand on the blade by habit, which isn't safe when dealing with lightsabers. Though, when he questioned who trained them, "I do believe your generation is responsible, Master Berand." She says with a hint of a smile.

With the brief lecture and helpful holodisplay from Ralta, their two options were set out in front of them. The two knights discussed them, and while she had misgivings - she always had those - she didn't see enough to really remark on it. She didn't understand droids at all, so it was helpful that he explained what it said for them.

But then, she was asked her opinion. It was admittedly strange for the traditionally-trained Padawan, her former official master had not been one for such open input. But thankfully she'd had experiences with less rigid Jedi that preferred a much more hands on, interactive style of education.

"Well... the gravity is uncomfortable, but it benefits us." Rishe says. "If we go to the environmental controls first, the infected would be on equal footing with us. They know how to walk and run, and with the strength they're given, they'd be deadlier. But in zero gravity, our intact minds are more dangerous than their base instinct. Once they've leapt from a surface, all they can do is wiggle in midair and bounce."

"And some of the security systems do work, as Master Berand noted earlier. Cameras and door controls at the minimum. And there is an intelligent danger on the station using those systems. If we can recognize that the vents are an attractive option, whatever lurks in the communications station may have recognized that as well." She let the implication hang there, primarily because she wasn't sure what could threaten them inside the vents. Just that if she was some sadistic Sith orchestrating this, she'd make sure there was something. And a smaller, shameful consideration was her own strength. The microgravity benefited her the most, as she took to it well and it complemented her grasp of the Force. Without that quirk elevating her and dragging the infected down, she was less certain of her own ability. And she didn't want to lose that advantage. Force forbid I feel powerful for once.

@Isen @The Steel Stag

 

[Vahn Berand]

"I do believe your generation is responsible, Master Berand."

He sucked in a tight breath, bracing one hand against his chest as Rishe cut straight through his very soul. The girl had a sharp tongue; and he wasn’t nearly brave enough to face her in this moment!

“Score 1-0, Padawan,” He simply said with a half-grin.

Vahn stayed crouched near Ralta, one hand on the droid’s little dome-like head as the projection dissipated. He listened to Rishe’s thoughts, nodding grimly to himself. His swordsmanship relied on structure and stability, but he couldn’t deny the advantages she spoke of. He exhaled softly, and slowly rose to his feet.

“You have a good point. It’s at least worth considering that in this situation we may be served better with keeping the gravity off. We should probably at least get the atmosphere scrubbers going however; if one of us gets a damaged mask that’ll be a whole host of new problems. We can decide everything when we get there,” He said, gripping the corner of a wall along the corridor. He looked up at the rusted grate hanging above.

Ralta twittered in response to Isen’s question.

“She says her ability to observe the security channels are pretty locked out this far out. If we can get into the inner ring she should be able to slice in to see if we’re being actively monitored,” he explained.

“As far as this goes for now….it’s probably best to assume we’re being watched no matter what we do,” He stated, raising a hand to allow a touch of The Force to shift the grate up and out of the way to one side.

“I’ll check it out first to make sure it's clear; it was my idea after all,” He said, and then kicked up off of the ground before pulling himself into the open ventilation duct above. Both directions seemed clear; just cold, uncaring durasteel panelling on all sides as he pushed off several yards towards the center of the station.

“Everything seems good, so far!” he called down, his voice muffled.

@Stick @Isen

 

[Isen Ramm]

The Kiffar nodded at Rishe's point of the gravity. She had a great point. The Jedi would certainly be a big advantage in a near zero gravity environment. Not only did the Force work in zero gravity, but getting around required some critical thinking and the AMS sufferers didn't seem to be in high supply of that.

He simply offered an "Mmhmm" as Vahn discussed his agreement with that assessment. He watched the other knight head up into the vents and waited until he got the all clear. Isen reached out a hand and lifted the droid with the Force and navigated him into the vent as well. "There you go, little one. We're going to need you."

He looked at Rishe and smirked. "See you up top," and Isen gave a small lift with his calves and guided himself into the vents. Isen pulled a flashlight out of his Jedi utility belt and to help him see. It would be highly unlikely that any AMS folks got up here, but then again, in zero gravity and mindless zombies...anything was possible. It wasn't out of the realm of possibility that one or more happened to get here by mistake.

Isen looked at Berand and said, "We have to assume something was keeping an eye on us. They opened the bay doors for us to land our ship in here. It was an invitation to try our luck. Then they waited until I was right by the door to open it so I could get attacked by those things down there. Whatever is here has a wicked sense of humor...and that's the best case scenario. And if we're correct about that, and they can't keep track of us on the cameras anymore, we have to consider the idea that they will not be happy about it. There is no telling what tricks they may have up their sleeves. I think it would be wise to get out of the vents as soon as possible. Hurry....but don't rush."

He smiled and shrugged. "Sounds easy, right?"

@The Steel Stag @Stick

 

[Rishe Vakren]

Rishe bumped against the roof of the vent as she followed the two knights in. And as they'd hoped, there wasn't anything inside. She kept a firm grip on her old master's saber as they coasted through the thin durasteel sheeting, heading for the atmospheric controls. She was careful to keep as light a touch as possible - she'd seen movies.

"Slow but steady then." Rishe says, she knew the noise the three Jedi would make if they were tromping and leaping across in the vents, and she had no interest in drawing undue attention. "And as quiet as possible."

She wasn't claustrophobic. Or at least, she hadn't been. But even with the disciplined padawan, the aching and creaking of the station grated on tense nerves. That sensation of death and malice charred every visible surface, even so deep inside the station's recesses. And as she floated through the vent, her hair and robes a swirl around her from a faint rotation, she could feel the fates of others who've tried more direct routes. As they passed over, pain accompanied the painting the Force laid out for her. She noticed she was sweating, and part of her felt shameful. It was probably... hopefully only the heat.

And all of that didn't say anything for how dark it was. Even with Isen's powerful light, the darkness encroached on the edges of her vision.

But they were getting closer to the atmospheric controls. Even if she could only taste the sterile, recycled air of her mask, she could feel humidity and heat prickle her skin, dampening her tunic and robes. As they drew closer, the warmer it got. And as the Knight's torch passed along a corner in the vents, it settled upon a heap in their path.

Charred, bloody clothing draped over a fixture on the 'ceiling' of the vent. Dark, furred hands swayed against the slight eddies of air being pushed out, with singed fur and damaged skin. But more alarming than the corpse itself was the method of it's anchoring.

A spear had been thrust through the bottom of the vent, folding punctured durasteel up like petals to continue into the victim. Rishe's breath caught in her throat, and she manipulated her bag with a push to try and keep herself as still as possible, not saying a word. Her blue eyes looked between the Knights for answers. Not only did their current position feel frightfully horrible... infected didn't have the intelligence to use weapons. Or they did. Either way, that meant their intelligent threat could very well be roaming.

@Isen @The Steel Stag