Resurgence: Leaving Home (Open)

[The Black Rider]

"Castles Made Of Sand"
By Jimi Hendrix

Down the street you can hear her scream "you're a disgrace"
As she slams the door in his drunken face,
And now he stands outside and all the neighbours start to gossip and drool.

He cries "Oh girl, you must be mad,
What happened to the sweet love you and me had?"
Against the door he leans and starts a scene,
And his tears fall and burn the garden green.

And so castles made of sand, fall in the sea, eventually.

A little Indian brave who before he was ten, played war games in
the woods with his Indian friends, and he built a dream that when he grew up, he would be a fearless warrior Indian Chief.

Many moons passed and more the dream grew strong, until tomorrow he would sing his first war song,
And fight his first battle, but something went wrong,
Suprise attack killed him in his sleep that night

And so castles made of sand, melts into the sea eventually.

There was a young girl, whose heart was a frown,
Because she was crippled for life, and couldn't speak a sound
And she wished and prayed she would stop living, so she decided to die.

She drew her wheel chair to the edge of the shore, and to her legs she smiled "You won't hurt me no more."
But then a sight she'd never seen made her JUMP AND SAY
"Look, a golden winged ship is passing my way"
And it really didn't have to stop...it just kept on going.

And so castles made of sand slip into the sea...Eventually

********************

Korriban, 28 kilometers southeast of the Valley of the Dark Lords


How long had it been? Millenia? Centruries? Decades? Years? In truth, the dark figure, shrouded in the shadows of the eve, had no idea. It had come here for reasons somewhat unkown to even itself. Something attracted it to this place, to this location, at this time. Perhaps it was the Force itself. Perhaps it was the hands of Fate. Perhaps it was a force inside him, one subjective to an entirely different will. Still, he was drawn here.

His mount slowed as his pace followed, stopping to gaze over the canyons of the Northern region. It was a desserted plain, cut into crevices and holes by rivers of ages past. Dried up ever since the spirits of darkness took hold of the planet, Korriban had been deserted by those who feared the spirits that inhabited the lands. Few stood before it--but The Black Rider held no fear.

Many kilometers back, his invisible ears had heard a strange sound for these desserts. It was the sound of a ship entering the atmosphere and possibly landing. Someone else was here. He wondered--for a moment--who, before he gave up. Continuing towards his destination...towards answers. It was time to discover the Truth.

The presence drew closer to him, but it did not lessen his pace. Those who would seek him or, for that matter, seek the tombs of Sith Lords past, would find what they wanted in good time.

[Evil Hobgoblin]

Hob did not often come to Korriban. It was a dangerous place to a Dark Jedi, full of the promise of power with no restraints. It was a lie that Hob saw through easily.

On the other hand, studying the Sith was a worthwhile end, and to know them, one had to know the traditions that created them.

The small and rickety freighter that Hob had stolen some time back landed on the planet, gently shifting the desert sands aside to make way. Hob left the ship and began to make his way through the desert sands. There was a tomb nearby, if he remembered correctly, and there he would once again be able to further his understanding of the Dark Side.

(ooc) Yo, dude, welcome back. Did you want to finish that other RP?

[The Black Rider]

OOC: Sure man, sounds good to me. Is it your turn to post there?

IC:

The Valley of the Dark Lords.

Its vast reaches stretched out to cover a sizeable chunk of the land in this region. Towers, monuments, statues--many different landmarks srpouted up from the broken land in every direction and as all kinds. Dust had settled over much of them, and the few footprints made in the past year stopped abruptly in a pool of skeletal remains and dried blood. Few dared to breach the outskirts of these tombs, even though they were full of priceless and intriguing treasures. Indeed, even Jedi Masters entered The Valley of the Dark Lords with great caution.

The presence behind him was getting closer--making better time than he was. Good speed, he thought. But did the being know exactly where it was being lead? The Rider wondered. Something caught him--as a whim lead by the wind. His head cocked, the dark hood gazing behind him. The presence was strangely familiar. Truth would be revealed soon enough, he thought. He was a very, very patient mind.

Coming to a large, broken mausoleum, he paused. His mount--the fantome d'argent, as it had been called in his old home--seemingly stuttered stepped. Something had spooked the brave steed. His head bobbed as he sniffed the air. Then he heard a familiar sound--the deep, guteral growl of a creature to his left. He turned left, his mount rearing back in fear. His eyes fell upon the dark, chizeled figure which stalked low to the ground. It's four legs kept to the ground, and it's short, fanged snout snarled.

A tuk'ata.

These protectors of the tombs were not an uncommon sight among the ruins. The Rider did not phase. Instead, it simply settled its steed and dismounted, letting the horse do what it would. It stayed it's ground, snorting and neighing wildly. It was a brave spirit.

Coming to stand before the tuk'ata, The Rider stared the creature down. It's eyeless hood cast a gaze of domination onto the creature, one which commanded the creatures attention. The tuk'ata stared, its snarling fading, a soft whine coming to it's throat as it lowered its head. The Rider held out a metal gauntlet hand flat and forward. The creature rushed to it's side, resting it's head under the gauntlet.

"Very good," The Rider spoke in a death rasp. His voice was barely audible. "You have remembered. Take me to my home." The tuk'ata obeyed, leading The Rider through the twist and turns, past other tuks and many other traps and guardians.

He wondered how his gues was fairing the dangers of The Valley of the Dark Lords.

[Evil Hobgoblin]

(ooc) Yeah, I didn't see you around, so I kinda didn't post. I'll try and get to it Thursday.

(ic)

The dwarf was making good time, moving forwards with the aid of a small repulsor chair. It was much quicker than walking and had the double advantage of being easily lifted with the Force, allowing Hob to escape most earthbound dangers.

It was not long before he encountered some of those dangers. The first was in the form of a short, vestigally reptilian creature that looked as though it had been carved out of rock. It was a creature Hob had encountered before. The last time he'd dispatched the first one. The others had smelt the kill on him and nearly succeeded in overwhelming him. This time, Hob would not be so indifferent.

The creature snarled loudly at the dwarf, an open challenge. The dwarf turned his eyes on the beast for a moment, then continued forward. The tuk'ata growled again, and this time Hob leaned over from his chair and peered at the thing. It opened its mouth for a third growl, but Hob beat it to the punch; a booming cry roared from his own mouth along with a gale of wind, tearing the creature off the ground and hurtling it into the air.

Hob sensed it hit the ground, scared and confused. Clearly, it was not expecting such a rebuttal.

Before it could come to its senses, the dwarf moved on. He would play the part of the bigger predator several times more on his trek, foiling two bat-like guard beasts and what seemed to be some kind of golem creature.

Eventually, Hob realized that there was a presence in front of him that he was following. At first, he'd mistaken it for a call in the Force, but once the realization came to him that there was another being on this Light-forsaken planet the dwarf knew he would need to investigate.

Hob gazed into the sky, orienting himself by the position of the setting sun and the mountains, and then he went forth.

[The Black Rider]

OOC: Cool, take your time, man. :)

IC:

"Excellent," The Rider rasped, his voice seemingly as whispy as the wind. The tuk'ata crawled away peacefully as The Rider stood before the tomb of Exar Kun, the mouth of it's corridor spilling a chilly breeze as the spirit of the Dark Lord exhaled from within.

The presence behind him drew closer.

He examined the craftsmanship of the old masuoleum, the beatiful and decorative jewels sparkling as the rich treasures of a conqueror's loot. It was well put together, as he would expect from the Sith Lord. He ran a metal guantlet against the iron gates, pushing them open. They gave no resistance, and the mouth of the tomb seemingly beckonned him.

The presence behind him was familiar, and he began to grasp its identity.

He paused, turning to look out upon the path he had left behind. No doubt, his pursuer knew where he was. Indeed, he knew how to navigate the treacherous territory. The Rider stood, letting his dark arua eminate like a shadowy beacon to the follower.

It seems that you have found a familiar face among the shadows of Korriban. The Rider spoke. He was beginning to understand who was behind him. Someone from old, old times--times few could remember now. You will know where to find me He spoke the truth--if this visitor was who he thought it was, he would know where to look.

Into the mouth of the tomb he proceeded.

[Evil Hobgoblin]

Hob leaned forward. The voice in his mind was familiar. So very familiar.

It brought back tales of ancient Sith Lords, experiences that would freeze the blood of men today. The past held things that would destroy the present, but for the fact that those things had fought amongst each other first. Weakened, divided, and injured they were. And the masses rose up and ground them to ashes, time and time again.

Just as they had ground to dust a great creation, and humbled a great man. A great man who perhaps yet lived through the usage of untold power.

Hob continued on, aware of a change. Through some subtle workings, he encountered no more guardians or traps, as though they had been ordered to stand down their guard. Without interference, he made much better time than he previously had.

In time, he came upon two open gates and the entrance to a death barrow. This gave him pause, for he recognized the markings here.

Hob levered himself out of his repulsorlift chair and began to walk forward without any aid. There were very few people who had any reason to visit the tomb of Exar Kun. Hob was one. And the other...

The dwarf stepped inside the mouth of the tomb and allowed his eyes to adjust to the light.

[The Black Rider]

The other was very close, now. Very close indeed.

The Rider stood before the altar that was made of bones and treasure and stone. The great statues of the Sith Lord stood like sentinels, their eyes piercing and as cold as they stone they were forged from. The Rider remained--still. He was standing in such a way that one would think he was entranced--emotionless, unbreathing, unmoving. But he was not. A higher power captivated his every attention now, as though he had been beckonned to this place and commanded to stand still.

"A museum of the dead." His unseen mouth contorted into a crooked smile. "A museum...and only that." His body almost shivered as the spirit of Exar Kun ran through him. The bodiless, shapeless apparition had been with him for some time since he reached the Valley of the Dark Lords, and it was only now that he had made his presence truly known. He could not hide from The Rider, though. The dark cloaked figure could sense the spirit like the smell of the morning, or the air taken in by starving lungs.

"You summonned me here--even if it was not on your own accord. You beckonned me to this place--your tomb, your death bed, your temple." The Rider moved closer to the great altar. "Why? Why? For nothing! For rememberence?" The wind within the tomb increased as ancient bodies stirred within it's hallowed guts.

"I think not! You have abandonned me in moments when my strength suffered and my pride faltered. You left me to die--to die! To rule in a body with no soul, a lamp with no light." His hands turned to fists, the metal gauntlets he wore clanking as their iron graps enclosed on his hand. "You think I have come to return to your prison? HA!" He laughed loudily, his voice gaining strength as he spoke.

[Evil Hobgoblin]

"Prisons are all in the mind," a soft voice growled from the room's only entrance. "It takes only truth to set them free."

Hob continued on into the room, taking in its surroundings. "A single ray of light destroys even the most intricate of deceptions of darkness. And so, I will risk a little light."

The dwarf's hand lifted, and within its confines a globe of pure white light grew from nothingness. It clearly illuminated the confines of the tomb, including the altar and the being standing next to it. "A long time, has it been, Rider. Jarus."

[The Black Rider]

Jarus turned his shadowy gaze towards the voice that had resonnated behind him. A globe of pure light had formed in the small creature's hands and the shapes and faces formed of blackness scattered as the light radiated goodness into the mouth of darkness. As the room lightened, the breeze almost withdrew back to the gut of the tomb. Despite the rays of light casted onto the dark figure, Jarus's hood remained empty. The globe did, however, illuminate the face of its creator.

"Hobgoblin," Jarus rasped, his voice revealing a hint of pleasure. It had been some time since the two had met--more than a century or two. Few knew time apart like that, and to be rejoined with his old confidant was exhilerating. "Your presence, old friend, inspires memories of times long gone." Jarus drifted closer to the smaller man. It was odd--he had developed a very intense Force signature. When they had parted last, he had not been overly adept to the Force. Perhaps things had changed since The Rider had driven himself into seclusion.

He betrayed you, remember? He left you when you were crippled most. Don't you forget the truth! A voice in Jarus' mind called to his conscience.

"SILENCE." The Rider turned to face the empty tomb. "I AM IN CONTROL NOW." His voice took on a deep, loud growl as it gained intense volume. The Rider's body shivered with a deep cool, as he found his attention back to Hob.

"Things...have changed..." he breathed heavily, alomst somewhat embarassed. "Since our parting, many things have come to pass. Many things." His voice came back to its usual rasp.

[Evil Hobgoblin]

"Yesss," Hob agreed, drawing the word out. "Come to pass, much has. Changed, both, are we."

The light grew a little bolder and brighter, although at the same time harsher to look directly at. Even the shadows and edges of the tomb were unfavorably lit by Hob's light. The dwarf gave the room another once-over and dismissed it as he had upon first seeing it. "A worthless hovel of paltry trinkets," he sniffed. "For the death of a dog, it is fit."

The dwarf turned to regard the empty hood of the Rider. "Back to this miserable place have you come. Why?"