Knowledge

[Jacobi Wylcott]

---AURIL SECTOR - R-6
---ADEGA SYSTEM
---OSSUS

Alone.

Sitting there in the hold of orbit was a jet black Sith Infiltrator. Unmarked and without a name. Alone. Its systems were largely powered down. There was little need at this time to engage the actual stealth systems as the infiltration into most sectors of space via a single craft was easy enough. Even so the traffic in and out of Ossus had never been very significant since the Jedi Temple here had been sent to ruin and never fully rebuilt. Never the less the vessel sat in the orbit of one of Ossus’ two moons and there it waited like a predator poised to strike at any moment.

He stood in the armory in silence, staring at the Jidai Maras. How he so desired to take up his sword and thrust it into the heart of his prey. But there was a need for discretion and while he could still go out and seek glorious battle and remain anonymous so long as he held consideration for said stealth avenues - some things were unable to be seen without identification and the Sword of Tormentous was one such item.

As a result of this decision he left the sword locked in the armory and instead he reached out and clasped his gauntlet around the haft of his lightstaff and locked it to his belt. Typically his mask only covered half his face but for this trip he opted for a more concealing one to better hide his features. With battle armor covered in tattered black robes and hood with a full mask - the physical concealment was complete. For the next portion of his plan he began to concentrate on the Force itself and he delved into the depths of his energy field where he tapped into the endless and chaotic energies therein.

Utilizing the masking techniques though not to its fullest extent he would be able to alter the perceptions of those around him to not truly sense the fullness of his natural signature. Such a tweak would not steal the bulk of his concentration and perhaps it would be enough that should any Jedi survive this encounter they would not be able to identify Tormentous specifically but rather another Sith Warrior. Either way - success or failure - this was a great opportunity to train further in this technique and improve his talents among such.

His ensemble complete he made way back to the bridge. Upon entry, he needn’t speak as his pilot droid took initiative, the holographic orb of Ossus burst into view and a simple red dot began to pulse. The target was clear.

Attempting not to growl and failing to do so, Tormentous gave voice to the bridge through the metallic grill of his mask. “Have you made your preparations,” He paused, the being he stood with was one he had never fully understood though after a short moment he finished his address, “Neti?” Aside from when they were in events such as training, moments like this Tormentous chose to avoid eye contact. While he did not care for ‘aliens’ much the Neti were - to him - one of the ugliest sentients out there and looking at the tree-man did not disgust him but it usually made him question.

[Professor Mors]

Sa'ato smiled slightly at the personal address. While calling him by species could hardly be seen as a compliment under most circumstances– he had heard much worse, and knew the Dark Lord was capable of worse still. Besides, for the most part, the Neti was inwardly quite pleased with this development. He alone had been given an audience– and an opportunity to prove himself to the true power behind the Order. The academic's master had shown him unexpected grace when they met on that distant moon so many cycles back. Sa'ato remained ever-grateful, and was eager to utilize that which he had learned in service to the cause.

"Everything has been prepared to your specifications My Lord", the Neti answered back with a gracious nod, "The cultists in the hold have been armed and briefed– and whatever resistance they meet will be undone with the aid of our warbots". Sa'ato turned, sweeping his chromatic, scaly cloak before him as he dropped to a respectful knee. Clad in the bones of countless vanquished, volcanic beasts, barring a grisly helmet tucked still under his arm, only the arboreal academic's head gave away his origin. "Those untouched by the Force that heed our call remain unaware of your identity", he explained, "The usurper named me priest in your absence– they believe me to be such".

The Neti raised a single gilt eye to watch the expression of his liege as he continued, "Any Jedi or adjacent will see the rabble answer to me, and believe that this is my operation– and that you are merely an accomplice". Sa'ato lowered his head once more, "Of course, I answer to your command– and yours alone". The professor's smile redoubled, and he concluded in a gravel tone, "The Jedi and their allies will never see us coming. We shall obtain the target– and use their digsite for a mass grave". Yes, the arboreal academic was sure of that last point at the very least.

If what his master sought was not present, it would be simple enough to triangulate other likely suspects. They would do so again, and again, no matter how many bodies piled up…

[Jarak Kai]

Ossus - Former Jedi Enclave

"Feel - do not think." Jarak stressed to the Mon Calamari Jedi Padawan. His Padawan. "To think is to waste time. A second is an eternity in lightsaber combat so you must trust in yourself, in your patterns and that the force will sustain you as you strike with the saber."

Kel Kep was fifteen years old, but an accomplished Padawan already. He stepped into the difficult life of a travelling Jedi as a Mon Cala would to water, with grace and natural affinity. His master, Jarak, had been pleased to receive such a capable student, and as such, was often quite hard on him to better himself.

"Yes Master." Kel said as he dueled a rather ancient looking duel bot. "Though - I find myself reflecting on your critique, and, well, that takes up more time than if I'd just put a little thought into it in the first place?"

Jarak smirked, "That sounds like something you need to figure out, but I will say this - anything you have failed to think of before a fight, was not worth thinking of to start with. Trust, in, the, force." The Jedi Knight said as he stood up from the blackened rocks which used to belong to a structure. "Come - leave the duel bot time to recover. Jedi Vixtruu is finally arriving."

The Jedi Knight kept his hood up, and, following his Master's lead, Kel raised his tanned cloaked hood atop of his sky-blue skin, as he caught up with the Knight. They continued to follow a destroyed pathway littered with detail from the Old Republic and the Jedi who served that government, when Jedi historian, Vixtruu, appeared from around the rock face.

"Jedi Kai!" She said, louder than she had intended, and hurried over to him in correction of her outburst. She seemed nervous but characteristically embraced the Knight and then the Padawan, normal behavior for her but unusual for a Jedi. She seemed stressed, anxious even.

"Are there not more of you?" She asked Jarak.
"There is more help on the way." Kel replied, calmly, confident in the support due to arrive momentarily.
"What is it that you wanted us to delay our rendezvous with the Order?" Jarak questioned directly.

It was then Jarak realized that there was an additional layer of cloth around her arms. She pulled back the fabric to reveal shards, illuminating in an unnatural light.

"I asked Kenobi to send you specifically for validation of my findings." The older Mirialan said, far more quietly now.
"I can see why." Jarak coldly stated, grasping a piece of it in his hands. "Definitely Sith. A lot older than I'm used to though. Sith Lords went to a lot of effort to create logs of their knowledge only to be spitefully cast aside by their modern counterparts.... but this one, seems relatively well preserved. I think it was cracked before the sundering of the world."
"Well, with that confirmation of my belief... We have an issue. This isn't the only one. There are articles for Jedi, borrowed texts from the Jal Shey as well as apparently captured Sith relics. Some of the authors would give you pause." Vixtruu gestured to Kel as he cautiously looked to Jarak.
"All preserved?" The Jedi Knight asked, answered by a nod.
"A few exceptions, but yes, accessible." Vixtruu sighed heavily, "You would say destroy them, but I wish for you to hear my thought on the matter, and I will not yield until it is heard." Jarak nodded to her and she continued. "I know you know better than most the nature of the Sith, and if you think we should destroy these items, then so be it. However, I wonder if it would not serve the Jedi better to capture such information so that we may gain further understanding of the ancient Sith, and perhaps how they've effected them today?"

It was a well thought and constructive argument. Jarak was certain she had spent every second she had prior to their arrival, thinking of a way to stay his hand, but, she asked for him. She knew what he would potentially do and so deep down, she knew what the right course of action would be.

"The Sith of today, are not like the Sith of the past. They have certain aspects in common, hunger for power, selfishness and all-consuming, but the Sith of the past millenia have all been modelled after their current leader. Though I do not doubt the information would be enlightening, I strongly recommend we collect what articles of the Jedi we can, and destroy anything with the Korriban etchings upon it's edges."

[Zasabi Ray]

As the folds of hyperspace parted, Zasabi was left staring thoughtfully at the world before him. Ossus was something of an ancient world, with a history going back millennia tied inextricably to the Jedi. Once, as a Shadow, he had gone to old Jedi temples in search of teachings his defunct order could no longer supply. The small glimpses of wisdom he had found paled in comparison to what was concentrated here, even in it's diminished state.

It was ironic, in its own way, that he had been sent not just to secure the object and site in question, but to verify its utility before it was destroyed by overzealous Jedi masters intent on the purity of their order. Alliance intelligence was far from in lockstep with its more moral counterparts, and while they generally respected the Jedi they also acknowledged the limits of what the order could conscience in the unending war across the stars. Better to send someone who shared their views on the matter to prevent hasty action from taking away a potential resource.

"Better get a move on," Zasabi muttered to his pilot droid. "If we take any longer we'll have made the trip for nothing."

Turning away as the ship began its descent, he made his way down to the hold. His transport was a squat vessel, made for boarding actions against capital ships and the like. It lacked many of the amenities of his other ships but more than made up for it in utility and strength.

Entering the passenger compartment, Zasabi took in the sight before him. Eight Mandalorian armored figures moved in eerie silent lockstep as they prepared the racks of battle droids and their corresponding weapons. In the center of the room was a single speeder, the most that could be fit into such tight confines. Even preparing this much had run up against their operational time limits, but it was better to show up prepared.

"Stark," he began, nodding to one of the armored figures as they attached a sniper rifle to their back. "We're making touchdown in five. Priority is on establishing a perimeter and ensuring the safety of the site personnel. Try to keep everyone in line- between the security team and the researchers, we've got a lot of unknown variables at work."

The figure nodded. Within the armor was a scarred and heavily modified battle droid constructed to fit within the armored shell Zasabi had purchased years ago. While initially constructed as a bodyguard unit, the eight armored droids had become invaluable allies to him. After exposure to revolutionary thought that meshed well with his own ideas of the Force, Zasabi had decided to offer emancipation to all of his droid forces- Stark had been one of five from the original group to remain.

This offer had also extended to the small brigade of battle droids currently asleep. They had been old Confederacy models, with their own intelligence but limited exposure to independence due to the nature of their employment in the war. They possessed their quirks that made them in some ways less effective than well trained flesh and blood troops, but held none of the cowardice of their previous incarnations. Zasabi had ensured that they had their memories uploaded to a central computer in the case of catastrophic injury, and as such several were on their second or third bodies. It was... a mixed blessing.

Shaking his head, Zasabi walked toward the boarding ramp. He just had to hope that Stark had the situation under control. Grabbing hold of a nearby handle, he fielded the impact of landing with practiced ease. Light pierced the dull fluorescent gloom of the hold as the rocky landscape of Ossus was revealed to them.

His black kell dragon hide boots touched the ground before the ramp, his long jacket whipping in the wind. Looking out past the landing pad, Zasabi squinted through the dust and natural sunlight at the approaching staff. "Who's in charge here?" he yelled over the whine of the settling transport.

[Jacobi Wylcott]

The notion of the bent knee did not escape Tormentous. It was never a thing he had ever once demanded from those that had followed him. It was a thing freely given for the respect he had earned from them and so he had never denied them the sign of respect offered. He would endeavor to live up to the indication of leadership and he would not let anything stand in his way for it. He patiently waited for the Neti to finish, grinding his teeth at the idea of patience. He had patience, but that did not mean he liked it. “He will have his time.” The Dark One hissed inreference to the Black Handed Snake. “And we shall have a reckoning once our own measures are solidified.” The usurper. He glared down at the planet, how that arrogant bastard managed he would never know but he could not disregard his cunning. Well played was all he could offer at this time.

“For this ruse to ring true. Do not sway from command as you see it. Dominate your lessers, Professor. Lest your lessers take your measure.” It was part threat but lesson implied moreso. Fealty had its place but naturally the Sith would eat their own should they see even a chink in one’s armor. Though he was confident the Neti would play his part well here. Should Tormentous arrive and leave a field of battle without his identity exposed - it was a victory in itself. For the future tapestry to take proper shape, he needed this to work.

For now, the time had come. Resuming his position he queued up the scanner logs. Traffic in and out of Ossus was very light which made the significance of a new contact concerning. Transport size vessel which came in and approached the world on a heading akin to a military asset rather than a civilian one. Civilians tended to be more gentle of handling and played nice with the local Starport Traffic Control. This contact, too distant to properly identify, entered the system and dove for the planet. Less time in the open gravity well of Ossus which meant less exposure to threats and finally, less chance of being shot out of orbit. Tormentous keyed the heads up display so that Sa’ato could also view the red pulsing indicator of a contact flying in at high speed.

“Seems we are not the only ones arriving here today.” Engaging the stealth systems of the ship the Infiltrator shot off in the direction of the Jedi Temple in question. “We should make haste. I doubt our hosts will wait for us to arrive before they begin to secure our artifacts.”

[Professor Mors]

Sa'ato blinked, and lowered his head slightly lower in acknowledgement. It was a small lesson, but one the Neti would strive to embrace for the sake of his scholarship as well as the fate of the mission. Rising to his feet once more, the professor turned about to monitor their approach as the looming, arid sphere of Ossus grew larger through the viewport. His eyes quickly narrowed at the advent of a new signal on the tactical hud. Even before the Dreadlord began speaking, the professor began to adjust calculations, and pulled up a second screen to survey the upper hemisphere's geography.

"I had hoped for a clean landing in the woods just beyond the digsite", the Neti sighed, gesticulating slightly at the gridded chart that covered their strike zone and the next fifty-odd kilometers in any given direction, "No matter– adjust the pitch of your descent by point-ten. We'll make for that plateau on the western ridge of Ooroo canyon– we can at least approach on foot from an elevated position". Sa'ato then lifted his right arm, and keyed a command module concealed within the bracer of his bone, "Chansin, there's been a complication". "Your Eminence", the warped voice of the lead cultist rattled back over the comm.

"It seems this heretical band had foresight enough to hire security", the academic explained in an even tone, "We'll be landing sooner– at a higher altitude. Ready the alpine equipment, you will require harpoons and zipcables". "As you command, so it is done", the raspy voice obliged after a brief silence, until the line cut as abruptly as it had activated. The older fanatic was perhaps not as spry as he'd been some years prior– but age had done wonders to his religious zeal, and they were useful for inspiring the younger converts. If he fell in the coming battle, Chansin would be difficult, but not impossible to replace.

Followers of the Dark Side were known for many things: shelf-life was hardly one of them. That business now concluded, the Neti strode over to a computer terminal adjacent to the flight console. He swiftly began to punch in the requisite codes tied to a dormant E2 probebot nestled where the infiltrator would have otherwise stored heavy munitions. It was an older Arakyd series, from the very last days of the Republic. Sa'ato had appropriated the droid from a theoretical meteorologist with whom he had never agreed– and who he had quite literally cut down to size when standard negotiations had failed.

Luckily for both the Neti and his master, the old probe's more conic frame and shorter limbs helped maintain the illusion of a simple research tool collecting routine data. Sa'ato cast a gilt eye back toward the main viewscreen, identifying and memorizing the coordinates for a light shower northeast of where the Sith had hoped to land. The professor trusted that the aging automaton would have superior cover– and superior luck to its overseers. Keying the launch sequence, the infiltrator shuddered lightly as the probe, nestled in its atmospheric casing, shot out from the ship's navel and was embraced by the planet's gravity well.

The professor would not have time to mark its progress visually however. The Neti instead signaled for the incognito Darth to bring the infiltrator down into a steep descent– his gaze fixed on the viewport as they traversed clouds of vapor, dust, and finally the open air. The Ooroo Canyon came into view, yawning wide like a seismic scar that had never thought to heal. In some ways, it seemed emblematic of the many battles fought across this bastion of Jedi knowledge and ignorance. They adapted, but would not– could not learn beyond what their dogma allowed. It seemed they needed their own remedial lesson. One measured in visceral agony, and paid in blood…

[Jarak Kai]

Vixtruu had thought to debate the topic a little more, until she felt inside her being that the Jedi knight had no intention of making concessions for curiosity, and the Padawan with him, she sensed that he would put themselves in harms way to see their decision fulfilled. Kel Kep sought to sooth the disappointment in the Mirialan Jedi by coming to assist the process, though Jarak made his desire for his Padawan not to handle anything of the Sith clear beyond any doubt.

"It's not fair to expose him to such things, not yet." Jarak had said to Vixtruu.

He sensed disappointment in his apprentice, but that was to be expected. Kel, like most Jedi inducted into the Order in this period, knew well enough of the Sith and what a pair of them did at the head of a Galactic Empire. Many civilizations suffered, some ceased to exist in the struggle, and this created an overwhelming wave of support for the return of the Jedi Knights. It was true that in the waning years of the Galactic Republic, the Jedi had become very centralized within the core worlds. Slavery and struggle ran rampant within the outer rim and beyond, and the Jedi were a myth to these places, a foolish hope. Yet these places were often the ones hit the hardest of all the worlds by the Imperial machines of war and industry. At that point, the foolish hopes were all they had left. This led to the new wave of Jedi Knights, many of whom had the unique experience that Jedi never had until now - to know what that suffering feels like. This developed an empathy the Jedi had not shown in millennia, and from this a connection to the galaxy was born. A connection that would grant the promise of so many Jedi for generations to come. Jarak was certain Kel would see and defeat Sith in his own time, but that was not for him to decide.

The blue skinned Mon Cala Padawan jogged at a quickened pace around the corner of the dig-sight, coming to a walk as the dust settled behind him, staining his leather boots with the reddish 'ash' from when the sun scorched the surface of Ossus. Jarak nodded with a hint of approval towards his Padawan, who's large aquatic pupils looked away when they made contact with Jarak's.

"Something is on your mind." Jarak said, exhaling for what he knew was coming.
"It's about the Sith relics." Kel replied. There was a silence between them before Kel realized it was unspoken permission to continue.
"Did you deal with such things? In the past, I mean. I mean when -" Kel was cut short.
"When I was Sith." Jarak finished the sentence for him. "Yes - relics and trinkets were often a way to measure one's value over another. So, Sith are fascinated with the material thing. Even if it rarely provides any real power. The thought that it does, was often enough to be worth the struggle. At least to them."

Jarak gestured to his Padawan to sit, and so they did. Both sitting upon the blackened rocks of Ossus's surface, they faced one another before Jarak continued.

"You know I was Sith, because-" It was Kel's turn to interrupt.
"Because you handed Krynn to the Jedi. You turned from the darkest of evils and chained it. The Padawans, Knights, even our teachers at the enclave talked about it. I was not the only Padawan who wanted to be instructed by you." Kel uttered with a sense of pride in his selection at the end of it.
"I see." Jarak nodded, immediately exerting immense strength to suppress that memory. "As a Sith, we saw put extreme effort and haste into testing ourselves, to measure against each others power to see where we fit in the universe. These relics are extension of that behavior, and the Jedi believe that the Sith never really grow out of their obsession for possessions, especially when it could grant them power." The Jedi Knight explained with an air of calmness.

"Does it work?" Kel asked, almost ashamed to do so.
"Does what work?" Jarak replied.
"The desire and acquiring of these 'things'." The Padawan clarified before continuing. "Does it grant them power?"

Jarak smiled and simply said, "No."

Kel looked confused at the certainty in his master's response. "Why so certain, Master?"

Jarak gathered his thoughts on the matter. He did not expect to give a lesson today, but he knew eventually Kel would ask of the Sith, more specifically for the knowledge he himself had of them. It was more current and relevant to the current Sith than anything sitting in an archive or library in any Jedi enclave.

"When you encounter a Sith, and you will, you will see it's like seeing a wildfire or a storm up close. It crashes, burns and wrecks destruction, but it is only power granted on a fleeting feeling. Sith gain strength from compounding their fear, feeding the anxiety within, the suspicions, the anger and resentment at others from slights or betrayals, little or large, or even feeding that desire for more that we Knights warn all Padawans about. All these things contort and twist the user into a face of powerful rage." Jarak placed his hand on his Padawan's shoulder. "But it is not their true face. Every kill they make, every victory they have, it all piles onto this absolute certainty that they are RIGHT. That they KNOW they are strong. But when your lightsaber cuts through them, and that certainty shatters and the mask they built around them falls to pieces, you see their real face once more before they pass. They are frightened, Padawan. They realize it was all a lie and it is heartbreaking." Jarak released his apprentice as he sat back, allowing him to digest this perspective. It was not exactly standard teaching at the academy.

"Then, why do we kill them if they are scared?" Kel, the promising young Padawan, asked his master who he knew must have killed many by now.

"Think of the Force as a living being, a singular being that is. When a creature is infected, the body reacts and sends resources, it's own agents, to remove that infection. The Jedi are that which the force sends to remove such sickness, so we take life where we must. The force does not tolerate twisting and manipulation of itself. It will always move against methods of evil, by empowering the Jedi to defeat it."

Jarak looked over his Padawan's shoulder to see two of the civilian members of the dig site approaching them, but it was not their arrival he felt. Kel stood up to engage with them, but Jarak couldn't help but feel a pull in the back of his mind as he stood and looked to the way the two Jedi had approached the camp. Someone was coming.

[Zasabi Ray]

A bewildered looking academic moved in close to Zasabi, relying on proximity rather than volume to be heard.

"Jedi Vixtruu is at the site with Jedi Kai discussing the-"

Zasabi cursed. "He's already here?"

Whirling to his droids, he issued out a series of hand signals. Without so much as a nod, the armored figures began awakening the other battle droids, one skeletal figure after another animating to life as they dropped from racks along the side of the bay.

"Nagrom, pull the speeder around. We need speed."

He turned back on the archeologist, a stunned expression on their face. "You see the one in grey and black? He's in charge. Whatever he says, goes. For right now, I need you to link our ship to your sensor net and start backing up your files for copying into our systems. We need local maps and environmental data, anything recorded for the last few weeks. Whoever's been in charge of security, get them over here immediately."

"I- I assure you, there's nothing dangerous on this planet other than some of the surviving fauna, certainly nothing requiring such a-"

Zasabi clamped a hand on the smaller figure. "I need you to understand that however you folks were doing things isn't how they're being done now. Whatever you think about the situation isn't important- what's important is that you do as I say. Now go!"

With a small shove toward Stark, Zasabi began to jog over to the speeder as it pulled up. The academic was probably right, but if he didn't establish authority over the camp immediately it was going to make his position worse later on. Alliance Intelligence would not be happy to hear that potentially useful resources were destroyed simply because he was late, and he needed their approval to enact his own plans.

Droids began to spread out across the camp like a small swarm of bees invading another nest. Communicating with quick blurts of binary and the occasional "Roger Roger," they moved with graceless speed as they began to find the appropriate positions to watch over the site and, more importantly, the area surrounding the site. Hovering crates, daisy chained together, were pulled down the ramp rapidly as the droids began to site out where basic defensive emplacements should be set. They were fast, efficient, and most importantly impressed upon the others in the site that they were not to be interfered with. Throughout it all they were observed and ordered by the remaining mandalorian armored figures, spreading out with their own arsenal of equipment throughout the camp.

Hopping over the door of the speeder into the passenger seat, he shifted so as to fix his clothes before settling into the cushion and closed his eyes. Thankfully for him, he didn't have to rely on map data. The Jedi would serve as his compass.

Immediately he could feel the harmonies of the planet, discordant and strained. This world had suffered greatly, but even now life flourished in it's own way. Among the drum-like beat of the world's lifeblood flowing deep within was a broader chorus, and among that... There. In the mountains nearby, two or three flute-like notes resounded like a rising bar in the grander theme of the world.

He pointed sightlessly to where he sensed the Jedi, his droid bodyguard reacting instantly and engaging the repulsorlifts. Winding over the camp, the speeder took the most direct path toward their target.

About to open his eyes, Zasabi hesitated. There was...something. A distant sound, like the strings of a violin being plucked by fingers made of blades. A new addition to the orchestra, reminiscent of the violence inflicted around them long past. Something horrible was on it's way, and it was far from friendly.

"Nothing dangerous on this planet," he whispered as shock crossed his face. "Until now."

[Jacobi Wylcott]

The Sith Infiltrator dove early once it broke the atmosphere so that the nearly vertical descent would provide the least time of exposure in the air. At the preferred altitude, Tormentous leveled out the craft and spotted a canyon trail of which topography - being scanned by the probe droid - was showing them would lead to their target. He looked to Sa-ato and nodded, an indication that he should also now become mentally prepared for the coming fight. (Force Shield). Mental barriers erected within the Sith Lord’s mind - probes of the kind offered by the Force would have a difficult time breaking through now.

They skimmed the earth to lessen their profile, and addressing the distacnce-to-target with swift measure. While stealth technology could get them passed scanners and even their paint scheme could fool visual targeting and even more, their engines were largely suppressed. But this would do nothing to mitigate factors surrounding the Infiltrator such as wind drag and the like. The rush of wind against the canyon walls would cause great disturbances in the natural scale. For that the ghostship did not drop into the canyon but made as low as possible. It tracked the elevation and through mountainous terrain made great attempts not to show itself to the excavation site. Imperfect - but the attempt was made.

Setting down now the ramp dropped and the cultists departed with instructions to get into position on the highest elevation with a view of the site. The Sith did not yet know what they were getting into - the probe had not yet been given enough time to gather the details. Yet haste was their goal here so they would get into position as fast as possible.

A short trail - likely used by the local creatures - scaled down the higher elevation and would bring them out to a natural bridge. From this bridge they could make way over to the excavation site.

Tormentous made down the ramp and took stock. Five-OH. His Sith Warbot came up to his flank, for this mission equipped with wrist mounted blasters and a halberd of hardened durasteel and phrik. A round espionage droid flew out of the hold - on its own mission and buzzed away into the rocks.

With no further delay the Dark One stomped away from the Infiltrator and headed straight for the trail that would lead them to the excavation site. Once they broke the cover of the rocks the stealth factor of their operation would be over.

Only moments now barred them from the Jedi. Soon - they would make continuation of the age old war between Light and Dark.

[Professor Mors]

Sa'ato courteously inclined his head in turn, but did not immediately follow after his lord. Donning the chitinous mask that completed his physical defenses, the disguised Neti simultaneously moved to shroud his thoughts and essence through the Force (Force Shield). The academic transcended his usual scholastic mode. Through meticulous layers of chiseled bone, oak, and mental concentration, he would serve as a literal and spiritual barrier in defence of Sith interests. The chainmail maze of Sa'ato's thoughts would allow exterior suggestions no quarter while he fought to liberate lost knowledge. Those that attempted to forestall his curation were sure to suffer dearly.

With these psionic preparation in place, the professor keyed the door leading back into the infiltrator's main hold and crew quarters. Chansin had already taken his place, battle fervor simmering behind his wizened irises. Sa'ato looked upon the assembled fanatics with a cold indifference. Favor could be won by those that survived– if they survived. Some wore patchwork armor, likely looted across several incursions akin to the present operation. Some, like Chansin himself, were clad only in tattered robes, modeled after or duplicated from the reddish pastel garb of the ancient Sith race.

Sa'ato lifted a hand at the elder lead cultist. He in turn queued his second, who stepped forward with a large metal tray. On said tray sat the severed head of a human or some adjacent race. "This Imperial hound fell at my hand during the defense of the Reach", Sa'ato explained in basic, watching as Chansin began submerged his digits into the crimson pool that had sprouted round the base of the neck, "I grant to each of you a talisman of that victory– so that you may bring new glory to our Order– and the blessings of the Ancients– so you may draw on their undying strength". The Neti began to gesticulate, uttering the alien, guttural verse of the Pureblood Sith.

Throughout his various incantations, Chansin smeared the red sacrament across the forehead of those hopeful followers assembled in the hold. As his voice rattled through the syllables and built in volume, Sa'ato flared out sinuous digits, bidding the fresh blood to sizzle and sear across the flesh of his would-be conscripts (Pyrokinesis). Gilt eyes watched intently as fire and faith burned more brightly in each face. These were no commandos, no professional strike force– but their blind allegiance to the Dark Side and to its mortal emissaries would make every soul fight with the ferocity of twenty.

Sa'ato almost felt a tinge of pity as his psionic parlor trick cemented their belief in the cause. Almost. Compared to the professor's own devotions– his cult of science, this lot had chosen very poorly indeed. Let them be of service to those who'd had the care to study, perhaps that could afford them some shred of meaning. When his oration had ended, the Neti lowered his hands, and Chansin dismissed the rabble to the armory. Most were armed with some combination of blasters and vibroblades. A select team had been drilled prior on operating an older but still commendable e-web turret.

One of the better-armored cultists, a Duro, had some battlefield experience, and came bearing his own Blastech A280-CFE rifle with a marksman's configuration. Chansin had previously attempted to persuade Sa'ato to requisition a handful of missile pods– but had been quickly shut-down for fear of damaging any artifacts. Once the small arms were dealt with, the grunts hurried down the exit ramp single file. The weapons team and their turret came after, followed those who trained with and toting various climbing gear. The Duro and Chansin brought up the rear. The Neti lingered a moment longer, activating his own personal war bot in the alcove across from Five-Oh's.

"Stay close Dee-One", the professor cautioned as the droid's photoreceptors flashed to life, "Eliminate priority targets with extreme prejudice– pay no heed to any collateral caught in your sights". With that, the Darksider stepped out onto the rocky plateau, and observed the strike team hurrying to take point and begin range-finding. Ossus had been reduced to ash many times. This was not likely to be one of them– the Darth's own penchant for mayhem aside. Still, for a planet that had been planted with so many corpses, Sa'ato was sure that a great many more would feed the earth before the day was through…