Post by Darth Exolus on Feb 2, 2016 17:31:26 GMT
Awaken...
Aelor's back was soaked. The sound of water trickling past his ears, then the image of an overcast sky, miles above a sinkhole. It was terribly cold, and his wet clothes did nothing to help in that regard. When he sat up, his hazy vision focused on a dark figure, wading through the shallow water. The vaguely-humanoid shape was a wreath of black wisps, churning and swirling about, yet with solid form. It vanished as it approached, leaving the Miraluka and his limited vision to peer around. A slow, steady drip was all there was. Then, more footsteps behind him. Turning, he found nothing. At last, the figure appeared in front of him.
"You disappoint me, Aelor Kyr," a familiar voice chided, pacing about like a caged animal, "I thought you a sturdier adversary. And now you fall to these - what, slaves to the Dark Side? Grotesque machines! Arrogant cultists! We Sith marched across Korriban for millennia before these gonifs! You, and your kindred have inherited our power. Your Dark Lords anointed with our blessing."
The unmistakable visage of Nilos Ven the Bold appeared on the figure, frowning deeply. It clutched its simple stave, flexing four-fingered hands on it.
"I say, child. Was our struggle meaningless? I told you that you would never escape me. But I will not see my champion fall to weaselly soothsayers. Get up!"
Ven thrust his staff into Aelor's forehead, and he awoke to klaxons. The bunker's sublevel had been destabilized by the detonation of a kyber shard, and now it was coming down. Instinct drove Aelor out of the room, and into a very real sinkhole, a long spiral path leading up toward the surface levels.
Aelor's back was soaked. The sound of water trickling past his ears, then the image of an overcast sky, miles above a sinkhole. It was terribly cold, and his wet clothes did nothing to help in that regard. When he sat up, his hazy vision focused on a dark figure, wading through the shallow water. The vaguely-humanoid shape was a wreath of black wisps, churning and swirling about, yet with solid form. It vanished as it approached, leaving the Miraluka and his limited vision to peer around. A slow, steady drip was all there was. Then, more footsteps behind him. Turning, he found nothing. At last, the figure appeared in front of him.
"You disappoint me, Aelor Kyr," a familiar voice chided, pacing about like a caged animal, "I thought you a sturdier adversary. And now you fall to these - what, slaves to the Dark Side? Grotesque machines! Arrogant cultists! We Sith marched across Korriban for millennia before these gonifs! You, and your kindred have inherited our power. Your Dark Lords anointed with our blessing."
The unmistakable visage of Nilos Ven the Bold appeared on the figure, frowning deeply. It clutched its simple stave, flexing four-fingered hands on it.
"I say, child. Was our struggle meaningless? I told you that you would never escape me. But I will not see my champion fall to weaselly soothsayers. Get up!"
Ven thrust his staff into Aelor's forehead, and he awoke to klaxons. The bunker's sublevel had been destabilized by the detonation of a kyber shard, and now it was coming down. Instinct drove Aelor out of the room, and into a very real sinkhole, a long spiral path leading up toward the surface levels.