Beneath the Blazing Sands

[Ramoth Ocran]

Ramoth Ocran stood in front of the Board of Directors of Coruscant's Palpatine University. He quietly awaited the final decision of the board as to whether or not they would be willing to invest in his trip to the desert planet Daminia to search for lost archeological treasures buried beneath the sands.

So much potential. Why can hardly anybody see what I see in that planet?

He thought that over as he waited. Finally, after ten minutes of decision-making (almost half wanted to support him but the other half was louder about not doing it), the Head of the Board spoke to him, "I am sorry to say it, but it is the decision of this board that we cannot invest any funds into your archeological trip to the planet Daminia. This is our final answer. Good day Mr. Ocran.


Ramoth opened the door and walked out into the crowded streets of Coruscant- again. Out of a long list of potential investors, he had marked almost all of them off. It was simple really, no one was interested in some backwater desert planet. They didn't care that the planet Daminia had historical value as being the only source of Damind crystals. As the he had gone down the list, his outlook had become bleeker and bleeker. All the respectable investors and universities had turned him down as well as most of the semi-respectable ones. Ramoth was down to the less-than-respectable and possibly-illegal sources of investment.

Ramoth sighed and ran his fingers through his somewhat long, dark blue hair. "Why can't luck shine on me just this once?"

He was becoming frustrated very quickly. He slipped through the ever-moving crowd towards one of his favorite taverns in this sector of the city. He went in, ignoring the drunks slumped over tables, in booths, and on the counter. At midday, the place was packed. Ramoth grabbed himself something mild to drink and sat down at an empty booth. He would have to wait for another three hours before traffic in the universities died down enough for him to be able to get in a proposal to any of them. He casually sipped his drink, not necessarily the best tasting of what he had had at that particular pub, but definately the mildest.

[Zereth Lancer]

It was another average day, part of an average week, and following an average month. People went through their lives without a care in the world, well, the lucky ones that is. Most had no idea of the true darkness that was slowly creeping upon them from the shadows. People assumed that because they lived in the center of Imperial control that they were save from the threats outside the core. But they're fears were of space pirates, alien invaders, and criminals syndicates. They were too busy looking outside their personal protection for any danger to notice the threat standing right beside them. The foolish never noticed the shadows surrounding them. They don't even react as the knife slips around their necks and ends their lives. The smart ones have the tenacity to look around and see that, despite their so called protection, they are surrounded by shadow figures. They don't stand a chance as the circle of darkness closes in and they are snuffed out like a candle. This is how the world at large progresses. The fools and the intelligent die alike because they have false hopes and believe in security that does not exist. The Empire is perfectly well at keeping out the thieves and the murderers, but when it comes to a threat of a different kind, well, they might as well be armed with rocks. This new threat, an old threat resurrected, is not a single entity, but a group of like minded individuals, dark in appearance and sinister in nature. They do not sleep, for the moon is their guide, they do not eat, for blood quenches their thirst, they do not stop, because the force is their fuel. They are the sith, and they will never stop, never give up, and never die...

Zereth Lancer, High Lord of the Sith, walked through the crowds that filled the sidewalks and pedestrian walkways of Coruscant. There were so many of them, mortals that is. They choked the life of the planet with their vast numbers. Anything caught beneath their many feed was crushed to death instantly. People died this way just as often as vegetation and beasts. Limbs broke and bones shattered under the weight of a thousand bodies. Was this the kind of life the universe's greatest planet should boast? Should the Empire's capital be filled with accidental deaths? Of course not, but there was no way to stop it. Accidents happen, as the newspapers say. People trip and are thereby crushed by those behind them. Are people in such a rush to get home or to work that they don't notice the soft squishy substance on the other side of their boot? Of course they feel it, but they just don't care. Nor will they ever. There is the occasional good Samaritan at the front of the crowd who, if given enough time, would bend down and rescue the fallen before they faced the same fate as all the rest. But those saviors were rare and far apart, resulting in near non-existent decrease in deaths.

But today there would be several more fatalities added the list, and not from the needless stomping out of life underfoot. No, these deaths would be later identified as brutal, cruel, and sinister. City Watch officers would go home and take the next week off because of the trauma of seeing bodies so mutilated, so damaged and destroyed, that they saw them every waking moment and their dreams were filled with flashbacks of the crime scene. The holonet would be unable to display images in their news article because there were just some things that people should not see. The details would be simmered down as to not disgust the casual reader. People would become worried- they always did when death sprang up around them. Their senses of security faded away and they panicked. Citizens would arm themselves, secure their homes, and stockpile food. They wouldn't leave until the murderer was caught, judged, and executed. But the damage would continued after that. Their security blanket had been ripped off and thrown out the window. They would never feel save again and their hope in their government would falter and fail. They would cease to believe that their planet is as safe and secure as the Empire's propaganda boasts. They would slowly, one day at a time, loose all faith and darkness will fill their hearts. They will become bitter towards their government and eventually walk the road that in that situation walk. The path of Rebellion.

But those murders were yet to be discovered- because they had only just been committed. Zereth stepped down the street, never looking behind him at the house he had only just exited, leaving a scene of blood, carnage, and murder within the walls. He had not a mark on himself nor a speck of blood. He looked clean and pure, just another citizen on his way about the city. Yet his appearances gave away that he was more then just an honest bystander. He wore all black, from his boots to his shirt. All his clothing was loose fitting which implied that either he had a bad sense of style or he preferred to have free movement at all times. A ragged edged red cape hung from his shoulders, the extended collar of said cape hiding the lower half of his face. The upper half of his pale face could be seen, and the red, luminous eyes that looked out from under the shadow of his brow. Long black hair cascaded from his head and fell well below his shoulder, nearly to his waist. No sound was heard as he moved save for the sound of ruffling cloth. No visible weapon could be seen, but with muscular arms like that people knew he didn't need them. He had the appearance of a sand panther, coiled and ready to strike. In addition to a muscular form, he was also tall. Standing nearly at seven feet. He was a giant in the crowds. People got out of his way, ducked into alleys and building just to avoid him. They were scared, and had every reason to be. If they truly knew what Zereth was there would be screaming in the streets, mad crushed of a hundred bodies trying to get away, and death by stampede.

As he walked he noticed a small, pleasant looking tavern. It was called the Hapan Princess and was a frequent stop for him whenever he was on Coruscant- which was not often. He slipped in through the door, passed the bouncer just within the door, and into the main dining area before the bouncer even had a chance to check him for weapons. A glare over his shoulder silence the bouncer, who was reaching into his pocket with an open mouth, already framed around his first word. He left the bouncer behind and made his way to the booth in the corner, the one he always used. Yet instead of being empty as usual it was occupied with a single man. Without missing a step Zereth stopped early and slid into the booth beside the corner one. He sat down in a seat that allowed him to face the man in his booth. A waitress arrived shortly and a glass of Nabooian Red Wine was ordered, their finest by Zereth's tastes. The drink would arrive shortly and Zereth would pass the time watching the man in the cornet booth, his eyes never blinking as he watched the young man sitting there, in Zereth's seat..

[Ramoth Ocran]

Ramoth took another casual sip of his drink. He wasn't paying attention in particular to the people around him-until the hair on the back of his neck stood up and chills ran down his spine. He had a feeling he was being watched, but he ignored it. In this place and at this time especially, he knew at least three people were looking at him, how he was dressed up for the universities and therefore, in their minds, must have money he could give to them as a 'gift'. Usually he outwaited such thieves and they either became distracted or marked him off as a bad target. Nevertheless, the feeling of being watched was there. It was the same feeling as when he was out on an archeological dig and a certain item or location seemed to call to him. Sometimes the feeling turned out to be profitable by leading him to overlooked or undiscovered bits of knowledge, other times it led him to small objects that he generally just gave to some museum or something for them to look at. He didn't care about the 'things', he cared about the knowledge.

[Zereth Lancer]

Zereth continued to stare. He could see the discomfort the young man was feeling as he felt Zereth's eyes burning into his conscience. Yet he showed incredible resolve by not looking up to see who was looking at him. Instead he continued to sit there, minding his own business and completely ignoring Zereth all together. This interested Zereth more then anyone could know. His drink arrived, however, and was set down on the table before him. He flipped the waitresses a cred chit and then gently picked his glass up and raised it to his lips. He sipped the crimson liquid, yet did not show his enjoyement on his face. Instead his face remained empty, completely lifeless without normal human emotions. But what else could he do? Smile? Zereth didn't smile. It was just one of those things he didn't do, not even on special occasions.

So, now he was faced with the choice of either remaining where he sat, or getting up and doing something, either outside the Tavern or with this youth who currently occupied his favorite seat. Decisions, decisions. Which one would he make...?

He stood up, his glass still held delicately between his fingers, and walked over to the corner booth, "Excuse, and I do hope you don't think me rude, but do you know that the booth you currently occupy is a personal favorite of one of this Tavern's more prestigous patrons?" He was not going to point himself out, not yet, "Most would consider it unhealthy to occupy this table. Hell, some of the patrons here consider you dead already," Zereth's voice was cold and empty, hollow and scratchy; without emotion or change in pitch or tone. It was the kind of voice that got stuck in your head.

[Ramoth Ocran]

Ramoth looked at the man curiously. "Well...I wouldn't consider myself famous persay. I mean I realise some of my discovering have been important to the archeological world, but those were merely the next steps forward in others' works. You've obviously read some of the papers I've written and I clearly state that only a marginal amount of the credit due to the discoveries is my own."

Ramoth looked the man over. Hmm...not what I would expect an archeology student to look like...he must be from one of those other universities.

"But if you'd like you can join me, I could tell you all about my next archeological target. It's this really interesting planet called Daminia."

[Zereth Lancer]

Zereth refraimed from arching his eyebrow in perplexity. He had no idea what the young man was talking about or why he was talking at all in the first place. It was all huttese to Zereth, making completely no sense. But he took the man's offer and sat down, sipping emptying his glass as he did so and motioning to the nearest waiter for a refill, "Yes, by all means. Please tell me about this archeological quest of yours," He really had no interest in archelogy, but he had nothing else to do. Might as well improve his knowledge on the subject.

[Ramoth Ocran]

As the man sat down, Ramoth began with the basic history of the planet.

"The planet Daminia is a desert planet that was frequented by both Jedi and Sith for eons before the fall of the Jedi. There is a special kind of crystal that grows there called a Damind crystal which can be used as a focusing crystal for lightsabers. Not entirely sure what it does, but that's not why I'm going anyways. See, when I was helping excavate an old archive building on the planet Corellia a few months back, I discovered this tablet that perplexed me greatly. I recognized the language as an archaic language used primarily by the Sith about 2000 years ago, but the translation was beyond me."

Ramoth stopped for a moment to take a sip of his drink before continuing. "The darned thing sat there staring me in the face for months, calling to me almost, until I finally took it to the Imperial Center Archives and slowly, piece-by-piece managed to translate most of it. It was the tale of an old Sith Lord who had been betrayed by his apprentice and entombed alive in an ancient library on the planet Daminia. And so, this was a great discovery, and I said to myself, 'Ramoth, you must go to Daminia and find this library!' I've been trying to get universities to fund my trip to Daminia so that I can attempt to refind the library and uncover all the knowledge contained therein, but so far none of them have been willing to invest. They use transparent excuses like 'I have no solid evidence.' or 'Daminia is a desert, I could spend hundreds of years looking in vain.' All fake. What they really want to do is send their own teams to Daminia and get all the knowledge for themselves and their university."

Ramoth sighed, "And if I can't find someone to fund me, that's exactly what will happen."

[Zereth Lancer]

It was very interesting, extremely so. This all sounded like a grand adventured full of vast rewards, both the physical reward of possible treasures and the mental reward of knowledge. Zereth like adventure and knowledge, not because he was a smart person or a scholar, but because he knew that to benefit in life one needed to know as much as possible. He'd employed this philosophy for the last thirty or so years of his life and because of it he knew much about the ancient sith, combat, and the force. He'd read any and all books that stood out to him in the library, the sith library that is, and seldom forgot what he read. He was a slow reader, but in the end he tended to learn more then the average speed reader. If he was a prideful being he would have boasted in his knowledge. But such a human emotion was beyond him. It was evident by his red eyes that he was not entirely human; for red eyes do not take place within many humanoid species and red glowing eyes are virtually unheard of except among those late night party animals who get them surgecily implanted into their faces- that way they stand out on the dance floor and get girls or guys attention better. But Zereth exibited none of the features normally assocaited with someone with artifical luminous eyes. No dark lines under his eyes, no micro scarring visible in the whites of his eyes, and no sign of implant rejection, minor or major.

But let us return to the present.

"I have a deal for you, sir," He responded, "How does this sound to you. I'll fund your trip, and expenses you have will be covered. You need a ship I have a ship, you need equipment, I have the credits to purchase them. Anything and everything required for the journey will be yours, and some. All I ask in return is that you bring me along for this trip. I am a lover of knowledge, especially ancient knowledge and history. An ancient library would be about the greatest thing I could ever achieve to find. Just think of all the information held within," He forced himself to smile, and as such it looked a bit unnatural; like someone who'd heard of smiling but never tried it himself, "Of course you will recieve full title to the discovery, I care not for it. I am only interested in what information you might find."

[Ramoth Ocran]

Ramoth Ocran's day had just taken an unexpected turn for the better. His entire week had just taken a turn for the better. After all that searching, he managed to find an investor here! In this place of all places!

Well, a little unorthodoxed, but it will do.

"Truly? I thank you! But there is one point I would like to correct you on, and I only feel I must do so because many in the archeological world misinterpret my motives. I only care about the knowledge, not the claim for myself. I simply don't want those who are unworthy of the claim to make it either!" Ramoth grinned.

"Well, now that that is settled, let's go! Oh, by the way, I didn't catch your name. What was it again?"

[Zereth Lancer]

He didn't allow himself to pause for even a moment, "Ezra Khaine," He had no idea where the alias came from. It just seemed to fit, almost as if it was his name. He knew it was not, but he felt like he'd heard the name before, perhaps even been called it. He'd never used the alias in his life... so this was strange, "Of Corellia," He added as he leaned forward in his chair, "And you are?" He didn't mean it in a mean way, he was just a bit forward at times. His hand snaked across the table and reached out to the young man. Most people these days didn't shake hands anymore. But it was an old costom that Zereth wholeheartedly agreed with.

[Ramoth Ocran]

Ramoth was surprised and it took him a moment to realise that the man was not in fact a fan of his work. Any fan would definately know the name of the person they admire. Now Ramoth was curious.

"Ramoth Ocran, archeologist."

The hair on the back of Ramoth's neck stood up again, this time a little different than usual. Something about the man was fake, but all Ramoth knew was that it wasn't his offer.

I can see it in his eyes...this man wants knowledge. Almost as much as I do.

"Well then, now that we're aquainted, shall we go? I already have everything in order including exit clearance for traffic control." Ramoth grinned, "I expected to have to leave at a moment's notice depending on how enthusiastic my investor was."

[Zereth Lancer]

"Will you be using your own vessel?" He asked without missing a beat. He was anxious to leave, but he knew that, logically, it would take time to fully prepare. He would need to return to his ship, the Star of Oblivion, and retrieve a few... personal items before he was ready to leave this planet. He also wondered what kind of ship Ramoth planned to use, either his own or perhaps on a charter ship that would take them to their destination and bring them back. Zereth had nothing against comercial transportation pilots, but he knew they didn't keep secrets, and secrets were something Zereth liked to remain just that, secret.

"Are there any other scientists, or otherwise, serving on this mission with us?"

[Ramoth Ocran]

Ramoth turned towards his new investor. "I have made deals with several pilots that are all willing to take us to Daminia. Each one was scheduled to take me on a different day so that no matter when I found a sponser within the next few days, I would be ready to leave immediately. Part of the contract was that if I didn't signal in by a certain time with a specific pilot then that pilot was free from obligation. Because the appointed time has not yet come, I can signal in to today's pilot and go ahead and signal to the other pilots that I will not need their services. That way, we can leave at your earliest convenience. All equipment needed is already in a storage container at the spaceport and only two other people will be joining us. Both are students of mine who are failing my course for one reason or another and need the extra credit to make a passing grade. Whenever I go on an expedition, I offer it to any willing student."

With that, Ramoth pulled out a small hand-held comlink and set four messages to different people. Two were sent to his students, one was sent for the pilot that would take them there, and the other one was sent to all the other pilots.

"Besides the four of us, five including the pilot, this is it. I'll gather my remaining things and meet you at the south spaceport. The hanger number is 975. I'll be there shortly."

[Ramoth Ocran]

Ramoth Ocran arrived at the right hanger and boarded the ship, the pilot was ready and all pre-flight checks had been made. All the ship needed to do was get clearance from traffic control...and wait for it's fifth and final passenger.

[Zereth Lancer]

Zereth made haste to his residence, a small, cramp hotel room that served as his home on Coruscant. He gathered his things, placed most of it in storage, and took a single black bag with him. He checked out of his room, handed the key over, and left the hotel building. He didn't bother catching a speeder, he simply ran off down the street at a speed that caused the edges of his body to blur in the eye of the casual observer. He reached the docking bay, pausing outside for a moment to cool off and catch his breath. Then he stepped inside and made his way to hanger 975 and up to the waiting ship. He stepped up the loading ramp and into the ship. He took a moment to stash his gear before heading up to the cockpit where Ramoth was waiting for him with the pilot. He said nothing as he stepped into the cramp flying compartment. He had to bend his head forward as he stood nearly seven feet in height, "Let us be off," was all he said.

[Ramoth Ocran]

Ramoth continues to study all the information about the planet Daminia that he has during their few days worth of travel. For the most part, he doesn't speak to his mysterious sponser, but occasionally checks on the progress of the flight. His two students get in heated debates with him and each other on minor subjects like politics with no one usually coming out as the discernable winner. They finally arrive at Daminia and disembark into the desert planet's main spaceport, Dan-Addine.

We are finally here. After all that, we made it. Now the real work begins. What do we need? Hmmm...we need water, and we need a speeder.

Ramoth addressed one of his students, the guy, and sent him to go find a speeder for them. The other student, the girl, asked if they needed a guide. Ramoth turned to the sponser and tapped his forehead, "I know exactly where we're going. Don't worry about it."

[Zereth Lancer]

The ride was boring, to say the least. Zereth spent most of his time in the cargohold, which was empty for the most part. He meditated nearly the entire length of the trip, only coming out of the cargohold for supper; during which time he ate, used the 'freshner, and rummaged occasionaly took place in whatever heated debate was dominating the meal table. He also read. He'd brought many books with him, many without titles, cased in hard leather covers with old yellow pages, and usually written in non-basic languages. All together it passed the time quite nicely.

When they disembarked the ship Zereth emerged from his hiding place dressed in a black tanktop, a pair of black semi-baggy pants, and sturdy black boots. Fingerless gloves covered his hands, the knuckles of the gloves were studded with metal discs- The kind of gloves found more often on street fighters then not. A very plain black and silver hilted knife was slipped through his belt and a small black bag hung from his shoulder, "No guide will be required. I believe we are all confident in Mister Ocran's abilities," He said as he tied his hair up into a topnot to keep it out of his face.

The sun glinted off his well muscled arms, the hilt of his knife, belt buckle, and boot clasps. It was clear that their sponsor liked the color black. But that was just about the only thing revealed to them.

[Ramoth Ocran]

OOC: sorry I took so long to post, been uber-busy with school.

IC:
After making it fairly far from the spaceport, Ramoth stopped the skiff they had rented. In all directions there was nothing but sand...it reminded Ramoth of an amusing commercial once. "This program is brought to you by sand, it's everywhere get used to it."

The spot Ramoth picked was completely unremarkable, but Ramoth could feel something calling to him from beneath the sands.

"We'll stop here and make camp. In the morning we'll start digging."

Ramoth got off the skiff as he and his two students began setting up tents and pre-fab shelters.

Yes...we'll start in the morning. Whatever it is we will find...it...must be found...in the morning. Ramoth's head was pounding with a massive headache. Whatever he found, he hoped it would stop the dreams he'd had been having about this place, stop the headaches, and stop the voice that he heard every time he closed his eyes. The voice that was calling from the desert.

[Zereth Lancer]

Zereth aided in the process of setting up camp. In no time the tents were arrected along the small pre-fab shelters, that he assumed would be used for research and similar things instead of sleeping. Zereth had brought his own tent but left it in it's canvas bag in the center of camp. They had set their tents up in a circle fashion, typical of any campsite found anywhere in the galaxy but most popular among the scientific community that liked having a center to everything. By the time they finished the sun was falling behind the distant hills and mountains. Zereth spent the last moments of light to prowl around the immediate area surrounding the campsire. He used the excuse of looking for firewood when he really wanted to scout things out. He returned just as the last rays of light disapeared, an armful of discarded wood in his arms. There were not many trees out here and the ones that did exist were short, thin things made to withstand the desert winds and possess roots that went deep enough into the planet's crust to tap into any pockets of water found in the deep. The wood was pilled in the center of camp but no fire was struck, not yet at least. Zereth found a nice spot, no different then the rest, on the sand near the wood pile and sat there motionlessly with his eyes raised to the heavens.

[Ramoth Ocran]

In the morning, before the sun was up, Ramoth and his two students were already up and digging with sonic shovels that pushed the sand out of the way and formed it into a densely packed pile out of the way. They decided to try not to disturb their sponser, instead taking all of the tedious work for themselves.

The voice in Ramoth's head was lounder now, and it was not confined to times of sleep. It was one unending dream. The voice was calling him to dig deeper and deeper. If his students noticed anything different about him, they didn't mention it or they simply didn't notice at all.

"Dig...come...to me...such...wealth...such...power...all yours...Dig!...Dig!...Find me!...Release me!...

And so it went. The dug deeper until the displaces sand was a seperate sand dune itself. And then they found it. The sonic shovels picked it up first as something they couldn't move or compact. When they had uncovered it sufficiently, Ramoth could see writing all over the tomb's exterior. He could only translate a few words because it was an ancient Sith language like that on the tablet that had lead him there. From what he could understand, it was a tomb and the Sith Lord that had been sealed inside had been alive when he was sealed in the tomb and buried beneath the sands.

Ramoth's thoughts were once again disrupted by the voice. This time, instead of sounding in his head, it sounded as though the words were being whispered on the very winds of the desert, "Release me! Free me from my bondage! Surrender yourselves."

Ramoth discovered the enterance into the tomb and went to tell the sponser of the progress.

[Zereth Lancer]

Zereth was troubled. As the dig site deapened he could feel a strange presence, a presence of hate, darkness, and power. He wondered what it was the scientists were digging for, or if they even knew. Finally he was made aware that the dig was finished and he made his way quickly around the rising dune of cast away sand and down the steep slope to the uncovered tomb opening. He froze in the doorway as he read the runes surrounding the many surfaces of the tomb. He knew how to read Sith Runes, perhaps better then any living soul in the galaxy. He was a sort of historian among the sith, having read nearly every book on ancient sith history located in the extensive library of the Sith Temple on Korriban. What he read disturbed him all the more. Something, or someone, powerful had been sealed away here and buried under the crushing weight of sand... never to be released again. He had a choice now, either stop the scientists here, possibly killing them, and reseal this evil, or... he could kill them and take whatever power held within for himself. He was, as a sith, naturally power hungry, but he was also a open thinking, wise man who valued honor above all things. He couldn't kill these scientists without it weighing heavily on his mind for the rest of his life...

"Do you think this wise?" He asked as he followed after the group of youngsters, "This entrance is sealed tightly," He pointed at the large stone door blocking their path, "I don't think it was ever meant to open again," The door itself was very plain except for a large, life-size handprint indent in the middle of the door. Zereth moved his seven foot frame over to the door and ran his hand over it's stone surface. It was so smooth, polished by a thousand grains of sand. His hand drifted down to the hand print and he slipped his hand into it. His hand was larger then the mold, due to his larger then average size, but the moment his hand slipped into it the door split down it's middle, a seam invisible to the eye, and opened before them, "Oh..." Was all Zereth said...

[Ramoth Ocran]

RELEASE ME! OPEN THE-
The voice cut off in mid-command as the door slowly began to open.

As Ramoth peered into the tomb, the voice came to him again, this time it was clearer and the tone was comforting...almost as if the voice gently wanted him to come to it.

Ramoth Ocran...you have been found worthy. Come and join with me. I invite you and you and your companions into my home, but you and you alone are allowed into my inner sanctuary.

Ramoth turned to his two students. "You two stay here and protect the camp." Ramoth then addressed the sponser. "You're welcome to join me. I have a feeling that we will be safe in this tomb." Ramoth turned and walked boldly into the tomb.

[Zereth Lancer]

Zereth was still disturbed. Why did the door open? Was it simply pressure sensative or was it, like other tombs he'd entered on the planet of Korriban, connected to the force? Force controlled gates, portals, and doors were not something new. Many sith lords put force barriers on their tombs that only another sith lord is capable of removing. Was this such a place? His answer came as he entered the tomb behind Ramoth and the surge of dark force energy hit him like a rolling wave. At first he couldn't breath, but shortly afterwords he could feel his body absorbing the energy, adding it to his own. His dull red eyes lit up like fiery beacons and illuminated the areas of his face around his eyes. His hand absently slipped into his the baggy pockets of his pants and gripped the lightsabre hilt located there, "Lead the way, Mister Ocran."

[Ramoth Ocran]

Ramoth was amazed at the information that was written all over the walls. He was sure that the entire history of the Sith was laid out on these walls though he could not decipher any of it. His interest in gathering information was, for once, distracted however by the voice. Ever time he came to a turn or split in what seemed to be a massive underground labyrinth, the voice urged him on in what he assumed was the correct path.

As he approached the end of the maze of tunnels, the voice became louder, clearer, and filled with more and more emotions. As he was walking, the voice called insistantly to him.

There is so much we have to accomplish. We will rend worlds, slaughter stars, and tear civilization apart.

Ramoth did not understand what drove him forward. Surely it was not the promises of grandeur, but nonetheless, he knew that whatever it was...it was powerful. He even tried to distract himself on several occasions only to find himself moments later walking again.

After hours of walking, they finally came to an open chamber with high ceilings. As Ramoth walked across the threshold into the room, ancient lighting fixtures turned on and slowly lit up the room. It was breath-taking. The walls glimmered a pale silvery metalic sheen, the floor seemed to be obsidian or black glass, perhaps formed from the desert sand, over what Ramoth recognized as an incomplete map of the galaxy, and all over were adornments and drapes perserved by the tomb's sealed environment.

None of this captured Ramoth's attention as he was focused on the monstrous statue standing in the middle of the chamber. It was made out of the same obsidian as the floor, but had a beauty that enthralled Ramoth. The creature the statue was of was not human though it was humanoid or had once been humanoid. It had four arms, each ended with four fingers and a thumb, all of which were pointed claws, and two inverted legs that it stood hunched over menacingly on. It was clothed in a black robe that hung from it's broad shoulders and a hood that would have gone over the creature's face if need be.

The creature's face was what Ramoth was staring at. It had two main eyes and two smaller ones right below the main ones. The nostils were flat and small, almost like a snake's. The mouth was barely open showing shining white, persumably a different kind of material, perhaps diamond, pointed teeth. The main eyes stood out the most. All four eyes were gemstones that Ramoth vaguely recognized as Damind crystals. The Damind crystals shone brightly as the light reflected off of them and Ramoth continued to look into them. He heard the voice speak to him as he stared.

Ramoth Ocran, gaze upon your destiny. You have been chosen. You will become the "death that the Force demands" There was a prophecy Naga Sadow made almost five thousand years ago that claimed that sometime in the distant future, there would rise a creature that would bring the death that the Force demanded, a kind of purging. The avatar would come from nightmares to slaughter all it deemed unworthy and it would come through the blood of one who was the disturber of high places. I, Sith Lord Rhadamanthus, and I was once thought to be the fulfillment of this prophecy. I almost reached the point where I transformed into the creature before you, but before I did, I was imprisoned in this tomb which once served as my base of operations. I was alive, and before I died I did become the creature, but my fellow Sith Lords, Sion, Kreia, Traya, and Nihilus betrayed me and entombed me alive inside this place. I broke into their minds and read their thoughts as they retreated. They thought that I was too much of a danger to them and to their armies...and so, even though the thick walls of this place are made to dampen the force, I managed to scour their memories of this place so that they could never suspect my return. Vegence will now be mine. Together, we will complete the prophecy and purge the unworthy. Awaken!

There was a blinding light and Ramoth Ocran realized he was in a white chamber, somehow tranported there. There was single black table before him with two Sith swords and an extremely ancient looking book.

Open the book.

Ramoth did as the voice commanded and began reading. Ramoth read for hours, perhaps a day even. The book was the journal of Sith Lord Rhadamanthus and he read everything the spirit he realised must belong to Sith Lord Rhadamanthus poured into him and he felt their souls merge and become one.

Everything changed. Information was not important, only the decontamination of the Force had any meaning. He picked up the Sith Swords and knew them by name. They were Purity and Eradication, the two most necessary tools of his work. The whiteness of the room intensified and Ramoth blinked.

Ramoth Ocran, whose spirit was now merged with that of the once great Sith Lord Rhadamanthus, opened his eyes. He was back in the room, and the face above him was that of the obsidian creature. We will eventually become that. The voice was not inside his voice, it was him.

[Zereth Lancer]

Zereth's glowing eyes read as many runes as he could as he passed the walls. His unique eyes granted him a very strong sense of nightvision that allowed him to see very well in the dark. What he read was all historical. Information spanning thousands of years, and all familiar to Zereth. The Golden Age of the Sith was recorded here, along with the Sith War and the death accounts of Naga Sadow, Ludo Kressh, Marka Ragnos, Exar Kun, and Freedon Nadd. The absence of names such as Sidious, Maul, Tyrannus, and Vader marked the records as being very old and ending abruptly several hundred years ago. Some names Zereth was less familiar with came up. Names like Revan, Traya, Malak, Nihilius, and Sion. He'd heard these names before, but the records of those sith were harder to find and incomplete. He would have loved to stay here and read everything written, but his mind only allowed for a slow translation and it would take him a year, or more, to translate it all.

And at the present moment Ramoth was getting further and further away from Zereth. He quickly ran ahead to catch up the scientists and then fell in step behind them just as they entered the main chamber and rested their eyes on the grotesque statue. The two other scientists remained behind as Zereth followed Ramoth up to the Statue. The room was so still and quiet, and then a surge of force energy spiked through his conscience and mentally crippled him for the moment. His eyes witnessed Ramoth's body turning hazzy as the edges of his body blurred and the air around him distorted. And then as quickly as it started, it ended. Ramoth was not the same as he had been when had begun his distortion. Now he seemed bigger, stronger, and deadlier. Was it something different about his face or his stance, or was it the twin blades clenched in his hands. It did not take an expert to notice the styles of the blades. They were clearly of ancient sith origin, but the inlaid rune style was different from anything Zereth had ever seen or read, "Ramoth," He spoke clear and loud, "Give me those blade, at once," Without loosing a beat he brandished the sabre hilt in his hand and thumbed the activation place. The dark red beam shot to life and cast it's glow around the room, "Do it or your friends die..."

[Ramoth Ocran]

"Do it or your friends die."


...I have no friends.

Ramoth did not even turn when he spoke to the man he now knew was a Shadowuser, or one the greater part of the galaxy called a Sith. But when he spoke, his vocal cords did not create one voice, but two. One vocal was Ramoth's normal, the other was deeper and filled with judgment. "If you kill them then you will only be saving me the trouble. They have potential you see...but they are not worthy." Ramoth turned to look at Zereth now. He cocked one eyebrow at him. "Are you worthy?"

Ramoth looked down as and his eyes went slightly wide as he noticed he was holding his two treasured blades. His lips curled into a satisfied grin as he looked at his two former students. Ramoth drank in the fear in their eyes.

"You and I...we shall determine whether you are worthy enough Zereth." Ramoth did not know how he knew the man's name, he just knew that he knew and there was certainty that he was right. "You will enjoy this I think. I shall call it a Judgment, this little thought of mine. Of course, because I have just thought of it, not everything is covered and perhaps a little unfair, but you will be a good test subject I suspect. If you are not impaled on my blades in two rounds, you will live. Here is the risk. If you lose, do not count on becoming one with the Force. I will consume you. Not that bad of a fate in my opinion considering you would be fuel for a fire that will span the galaxy."

Ramoth lunged forward, thrusting both swords at Zereth.

[Zereth Lancer]

The world just had to go to smack right then, didn't it? Zereth thought to himself as he listened to Ramoth's little monologue. It was boring, it was dramatic, it was typical. It was all those things, and more. A darkside speech, to be sure. He was challenged, the rules were given, and the line was drawn. Zereth loved a challenge, and this would be one of the most challenging things to befall him in quite some time. Zereth did not rush to meet Ramoth, oh no. He was not your typical sith lord. His views were tainted with those of the Jedi and other groups and ideals. He was... unique. So instead of charing forward as a sith would, Zereth ran forward, but to the side. A half crumble pillar rose into the air just to his right. His angle brought him to this pillar. He jumped into the air, ran up the side of the pillar at a diagonal angle, and pushed off it at the last second. He flew into the air, high over Ramoth's head, and to another pillar. He stuck his lightsabre into the pillar and held on tightly. The obsidian black pillar was made of a strong stone and it would take awhile for the heat of his sabre to burn through it. So for now it provided a crafty anchorage. He clenched his free hand into a fist and orange light began to gather along it as he used his powers of elementalism and telekinesis to rip the very air particles from their currents and forcing them to swish around his hand fast enough for friction to build up. A fireball is born. The process only took a handful of seconds and Zereth was already throwing the fireball down at Ramoth before the boy had scarcely a moment to look up at Zereth on his high perch.

[Ramoth Ocran]

One moment Zereth was about to be disemboweled, the next he was coming at Ramoth from above.

One moment Ramoth was looking forward where his prey, the next his face was contorted into a mask of evil mischief and he was bringing a hand around in a great sweeping arc. The moisture in the air became super-cooled and extinguished the fireball. The effort forced Ramoth down on one knee for his abilities were not fully awakened quite yet.

With a spike of Force energy that made his vision go white and a light buzz appear in his mind, Ramoth further super-cooled the oxygen in the air into a spike of dense, frozen air. With one hand holding his head, he mentally threw the spike toward Zereth.

[Ramoth Ocran]

Instead of striking Zereth, the spike suddenly dropped out of the air as Ramoth got a distant look on his face. He seemed as though he were listening for something very faint. A strange look came over his face and he looked at Zereth, still seeming like he was somewhere else. "Whether you are worthy or not will have to wait. For now, I shall deem you worthy enough. I have other...more pressing matters to attend to. Farewell."

Ramoth disappeared from the tomb, using the Force to erase all the history written on the walls. He was the only one who should know some of those secrets and they were all in his mind already...no need to leave things around that could be detrimental to his cause. He stared at the blazing sun and looked out over the sands.

It starts.

[Zereth Lancer]

Ramoth disapeared, and at the same the sith runes on the walls began to evaporate, scartched off the walls by an invisible eraser and removed from existance. He committed several more sections to memory before they were all gone, but in the end the fragments did nothing for him. He dropped from his perch and deactivated his lightsabre. He turned his head at the two researchers still alive, huddled together against the wall. They'd seen too much, they all had. Ramoth had been warped into something else, and Zereth was disturbed by the power he felt within the young man. Those researchers were the unlucky ones indeed as Zereth strode over to them and executed them with a clean flick of his knife. He left the building, humming a toon under his breath. He sent the souls of the researchers into the next world, singing praise to whichever deity they serve to grant them high positions in heaven, or wherever their deity sent his followes.

Zereth left the tomb, resealing the door and covering the entrace by using the force to throw the sand back on top of it. The researchers equipment was shattered into millions of tiny particles and tossed to the wind. Finally he gathered up his things and set off in the speeder, heading back the way they had come in the beginning. He was going to leave this planet, archive his finds, and hope to hell that he never met Ramoth again.