Storybot

a highlight of news highlights from across the galaxy: ———————————

The story played across holofeeds the galaxy over. Reports had been received by dozens of news outlets on dozens of worlds. Each one was the same. Shaky security footage from inside the nefarious Republic era prison, The Helvault. Footage that showed a red lightsaber wielding being cutting through security along with a variety of goons. Some footage was too graphic for all but the most biased news agencies to play. Footage of an octopus-like being suffering a grievous death at the hand of some murderous robot. Other footage was all but begging to be played, with a few faces blurred. Staff members struggling to escape as the g-forces aboard the ship pulled at them and threw them about like ragdolls. Reports indicated that the station had possibly been besieged by a variety of mechanical issues allowing an unauthorized ship to land in one of the receiving hangars. Pirates for all intents and purposes. Pirates, it seemed, wielding red lightsabers; the trademarks of the Sith. And then, as the station was careening out of control towards the planet below, sensors captured the shaky image of a warship. The ship slipped from the shadows of space, illuminated by the sun and stars. It did not take government clearance to recognize it as a ship of Sith design. In fact, it was an eagle-eyes investigative journalist who recognized the vessel as one seen fleeing the Battle of Nar Shaddaa. Dozens of stories, all with different insights and details, played across the holonews. Some had tear-filled interviews with the family of prisoners nearing the end of their stay in the notorious prison. Others had experts discussing the potential engineering flaws in the design of the station, flaws that caused it to too easily fall from the sky. Even others toted the story as a conspiracy, a way for the newfound Galactic Alliance to do away with old problems. Some stations speculated that the Sith were looking to replenish their ranks with the worst of the worst. Some stations swore that The Spider himself had returned to the galaxy after the disaster that was Nar Shaddaa. Every reporter had an opinion, speculation, or factoid they thought they could tie in. What ran common threads ran through them all were that a Sith warship presided over the destruction, the station had smashed into Nespis VIII, and lightsaber wielding raiders had stormed the station. All aboard the station were presumed dead. When pressed for an official statement, the Galactic Alliance Board had nothing to say. The Bureau of Justice’ Subdivision of Prisons on the other hand released this statement: The events surrounding the Helvault prison station are currently under investigation by the Alliance Department of Threat Analysis. At this time all aboard are assumed deceased and the station deemed a total loss. The Subdivision of Prisons wishes to express our deepest regrets and condolences to the families of those who gave their lives fighting to preserve justice and safety for the people of the Galactic Alliance. Their sacrifices were not in vain. Nobody aboard was deserving of a death sentence and the Sith soldiers who acted as executioner to those guards and prisoners will be brought to justice.

The towering stone walls of the shadowy fortress seemed as if they would fit in better in a b-grade horror holo flick than where it sat atop the highest steppe in the area. In it’s shadow sprawled the slums; homes of hundreds of thousands of humanoid-esque beings. Each of them seemed to sport an evolutionary variety of extra growths that ranged from vestigal wings, sensory organs, growths, fur, fangs and more. They lived in squalor eeking out an existence subsiding on the meager amounts of food the cold poor soil could yield. Hunting seemed to be their main subsidy of survival. Those who could trekking across the barren treeless on month-long hunting trips to bring back food and water. They were allowed little more than primitive tools, leather armor, and medieval steam-punk technologies. Those few pieces of advanced technology were held with reverence and secrecy, lest their oppressors, the Imperial Empire, enthroned in the ancient fortress above, discover them. Those found with som much as a glowlamp were harshly punished, their children carted off to the yawning blackened moat-spanning bridge into the castle. Most were never seen again. Those few that were, were found wandering the steppes, their minds broken and their bodies mutilated; never to be the same again, babbling about incomprehensible magics and tortures. The Nusp-Ashla Nest which occupied the fortress were an outcast Nediji family that had for generations rules over vast swathes of the planet with impunity. Their enforcers donned stolen Imperial equipment and carried arms ferreted from galactic shipments the galaxy over; stolen from thieves of purchased on the black market. To the locals, they were the Empire. They had no way of knowing any different. The Nest was wealthy and wanted for nothing. The highest ranking members never left the solitude of their towering gargoyled spires and state of the art laboratories. They ate extravagant meals and entertained only the most select clientele within their walls. Even then, guests were closely monitored. They were escorted by armed soldiers. Their movements were monitored and controlled so that they would never see the squalor and suffering of their test subjects that lived outside. Business was done cash-in-hand. Once business was complete, any clientele, bound by iron-clad non-disclosure agreements and knowing that their purchases would invite scrutiny from the Imperium, Sith, Rebellion, Republic or whatever force happened to be in control, were taken to the single small landing strip on the far side of the fortress where they were whisked by private shuttle to a third-party location where they were returned to their craft. Delivery of serums and purchases would be done elsewhere in the future by agents of the Nest. The rest of the planet was comprised of windswept deserts. The small tribes of men that moved about the world survived by hunting and herding. They gave a wide berth to the fortress in the north, a place they referred to in their native tongues as Munstroen Jauregia, The Palace of Monsters. The people that live in the shadows of the fortress were known as the Accursed; their mutilated and mutates bodies ravaged by generations of experimentation until they were barely recognizable as what they had once been. Hunting parties from the nomadic tribes were pitied, and kills left for the Accursed to ‘discover’ beneath the scrub. The Nusp-Ashla Nest ruled, unchallenged by any but their most foolish vassals. Hordes of stolen Imperial tech supplemented their own bio-engineered adaptations. Rumors whispered about dying fires the world over spoke of creatures, demons, failed experiments that were entombed within the deepest bowels of the fortress. Legends tell of hellspawn bursting from the earth to devour entire tribes in a cacophony of wails and gnashing of teeth late in cloud covered black nights. A pair of Ho’din missionaries somehow managed, by a stroke of luck, to completely bypass the sensory blockade that lurked within the rubble-strewn asteroid belts that encircled the world. They were some of few who had ever done so and the first to have done so completely by accident. More importantly, they were the first to manage to get off world before being apprehended by Nest Imperial agents racing across the landscape in Imperial speeders and walkers.

The floating fortress hung silently in orbit over the pristine world below. From the outside, nobody could tell anything was amiss. Even from within, aside from the fee glitches that seemed to be popping up in the network, all seemed relatively, well, normal. Of course, mealtime was 15 minutes late. That was almost unheard of. If anything, the station ran like a machine, punctual, routine, boring. Prisoners were gathered together in the bulbous opaqued recreation area-another of the many built in security measures. Nothing was there by chance. Normally only a handful of the best-behaved high priority inmates were allowed in there at once, if at all. The fact that a majority of them, 112 to be precise, were gathered there now under the watchful scanners of three dozen armored, tamper-resistant, stun baton wielding security droids. Behind the screens and within the secured corridors where prisoners never went, the limited crew of the station were on high alert. Things were wrong. Lights flickered and computer screens flashed. The finer workings of the station were under attack from an unknown unseen attacker. In the main control room, the lights flickered and powered down for a full thirty seconds within the secured core of the station. Then the power returned. The computers began to power up in a secure mode. All outside communications were cut off. The station was cut off. Emergency protocols instantly went into effect. None but the stationed warden could override it; and that cybernetic Rodian was currently swinging a stun baton in the yard trying to break up what was fast becoming a riotous brawl. Blast doors slammed into place cutting the yard off from everywhere else. Automated turrets deployed at every junction point and every hallway. Anyone not bearing a security-encoded chip would be turned into holey cheese as the turrets locked onto them and opened fire. As the station began to go into anciently encoded lockdown procedures, the external protective measures of the ship flickered, once, twice, three times. Then they powered back up. A minute later, a flicker, once for ten seconds, twice for ten seconds, a third time - ten seconds. Then back to normal as the ion turrets began to power up again scanning for threats. Security measures fully engaged, the ship began to slowly rotate. The thrusters briefly fired beginning a slowly accelerating decent towards the planet below. The main computer screen in the control center began to flash a countdown. If order was not restored in the next thirty minutes the station would enter the planet’s upper atmosphere, unable to be salvaged as it plummeted towards the mountain ranges below.

An electronic buzz escaped the droid, something one could only interpret as an exasperated sigh. Flail as he might, the droid was unable to right himself on the uneven surface. “A bomb?! Why would I be a bomb. I am a civilized individual trapped in these accursed tunnels for days now. At least I assume it has been days using a standard galactic orbital cycle. It is hard to tell without seeing the sky and I am ashamed to admit this, but I am no longer sure where I even am in this wide galaxy. I just know it is wet, dark, and all together unfit for man or droid in these ghastly tunnels what with skittering crustaceans and strange beasts all about. No not at all. The sounds of torture are not something I am accustomed to. I was told I would be cataloging supplies is all. Can you help me up? I would prefer not to power down permanently down here. Nightmares and all you surely understand?” the droid prattled on, his tense voice calming at the sound of his own self talking. Still it bought time for the scanners to complete their assessments. Nothing out of the ordinary, a plain old protocol unit. The shaft was hewn unevenly, almost as if by hand, into the coral rock. Water dripped from the walls, reflecting the soft glow of the saber. It arced slowly uphill until one could barely see the entry point before it turned. Just visible around the corner from the corner was a body, stripped of any worthwhile gear and filled with blaster holes. It was cold to the touch and limp, rigor having come and gone. Rolling it over for facial recognition while slimy and all together unpleasant would not help in identifying the body; the face seemed to have been sucked and serrated off leaving a bloody coagulated mess in it’s place. Deeper down the tunnel in the dark, a clatter would echo at the sight of the Imperial Knight followed by sloppy wet footfalls as someone or something ran further down the pitch black shaft. “Oh no. Not again.”

“Gəl” The voice whispered in the dark recess of the minds that might hear it as cold air seemed to press in from all sides, the stillness of the tunnel almost a crushing beckon to drive them forwards, further down the tracks and into the darkness. The global positioning system of the tracker had been activated by one of the troopers. Another had attempted to contact the surface, bit had been unable to do so. The coral and depths played havoc on their comms; or was it something else. The only noise that broke the stillness was the soft beep of the tracker. It’s red activation light a soft beacon against the dark. Further down the tunnel the tracks continued on their path. A solitary shaft that appeared to have been hewn from the stoney coral walls branched steeply downwards to the left bathed in inky blackness. Clearly, an off the books shaft. It appeared newer than the main shaft. It would be a tight fit to slide through the crevice, but if one thought skinny and pulled off any outwardly worn bulky equipment, it could be done. Then suddenly, broken by the darkness came a voice, mechanical and concerned. The instantly recognizable voice of a 3P0 unit. In the darkness, a pair of photoceptors appeared jolting with the droid’s uneven footsteps as it walked up tracks. “Sir? Is that you? Have you finally returned? I was beginning to. . . . Oh dear.” The droid’s queries were cut short as a crash was heard and the rusted black clad protocol unit tripped over the uneven ground and crashed to the floor. “This will not do at all. Umm. . . . . . . . . . . HELP! Can somebody help me? i have fallen again and cannot seem to get up. This floor is slick and not terribly even. I was built for civilized society.” he bemoaned.

The cacophony of blaster fire echoed up and down the shafts. Any semblance of stealth was lost more so than it may have been at the cry of the beast. Still, they did little to dissuade the monstrous crustacean; it’s thick armored hide absorbing the brunt of the stunning energy and blasts. Turning with a screech, intent on destroying they who were attacking, the lobster made to charge. It only got a couple steps; however, before it was attacked again, feeling it’s body lifted up into the air before it was unceremoniously flipped onto it’s back and in a singular motion of force-powered momentum and slammed back to the floor, grating against the stoney ground and crates beneath it. Sparks flew through the air as the beast let out one final angry squeal; Lok’s blade piercing it’s soft underside and scorching a home through the creature’s ravaged mind. With it’s death throws, the crustacean lashed about as it’s body spasmed unto death, lighting the room with sprays of sparks that seemed to settle across everything, singing exposed cloth and smoldering against the crates of explosives. Finally the beast was dead. A cold wind ripped through the shafts, pushing the group deeper; a cold hunger bidding them forward. A chill was on the heavy humid air.

The beast flung about, scraping against the passageway, lighting the darkness with a shower of sparks as it’s flat armored tail carved a groove in the coral stoney wall. It tried to follow Edelmor, but failed, it’s claws snapping in the darkness as it’s eyestalks darted about looking for it’s prey; much wilier than it had expected. Still it searched, even as a subtle presence began to play about it’s mind. To such a simple creature, emotions too were a simple thing. Hunger, safety, survival, propagation. Responses were gauged and guided by these simple things, and yet here, where it now felt threatened, a sense of serenity seemed to be falling over the beast. Perhaps, just perhaps, things were not that bad. And then, by some incomprehensible force, the beast could see itself. Looking through the eyes of Lok was not something it understood or could comprehend; what it saw was reality, wether it was fact or fiction. At the same time, a pulse of dark side energy surged through the shaft, buffeting the mind of the beast any any not prepared to withstand it. “yox. mənə sehrbazlar gətir. digərlərini öldürün.” The creature whipped about, stoked back to a frenzy. It’s mind not it’s own, but it’s actions pure instinct. Claws, tail, and boney plates raked the walls. It’s speared legs pierced the boxes it stepped on, scattered detonators and devices amongst the explosive compound on the floors. Wet gutteral cries echoed from it’s maw and it’s claws snapped at whatever might fall prey to them. Through Skyshatter’s eyes, the beast felt threatened by what it could only see was the presence of another, and what more, other intruders as well. In a fury the beast attacked, shambling about chaotically as it could not grasp that from where it saw and where it was were any different, slamming into walls and crushing whoever and whatever was in it’s path. ((NOT GONNA ACT THE TROOPERS PART. WILL ALLOW YOU TO DO THAT AS YOU SEE FIT))

With a gurgling snarl the beast’s beady red eyes focused on the beam of green that illuminated the dim. In the cramped space it’s chitinous armored scales scraped and sparked as the beast surged forward on spindly spiked legs at a shockingly quick pace. The beast ignored the others, clouded as they were by the shadow of the force. it’s serrated claws extended, snapping for the green blade and it’s wielder with a singular destructive focus. To be caught within was certain death-heralding wounding beneath the razored edged and stiff barnacled coating. Nothing else mattered but to protect the nest from this sole trespasser. “Onlari mene getirin”

The tracks stretched off into the shadows ahead. Even the haphazardly still functioning glow mounts were infrequent as the group pressed downward along the decline. It was just enough to make walking uncomfortable on the damp ground, hard packed or smooth worn as it was. The tracks were barren, but glistened where they had recently been worn by the passing of wheeled carts. Nothing moved. In the distance, faint dripping could be heard; but aside from that and the crunch of the party’s feet against the ground, it was quiet. Too quiet. Nothing showed up on thermal scans. The entire area was chilled by the unseen press of the sea outside. Everything was still, even the air, damp and stale as jt was. And yet, one could not help but feel like they were being watched, that their movements were preordained against the landscape of the cosmos. The deeper they went, the more tangible the darkness became. One could almost taste it, feel it crawl across their skin leaving a trail of gooseflesh in it’s wake. Yet nothing moved. Every 100 or so meters, a wider area had been carved from the coral caverns allowing for storage of rails, gear, and ore. Most of it lat untouched; save for piles of recently replaced rail. It had been used to bring the defunct mines back to work, but for what? Aside from bits of ore forgotten in the corners that looked like they had sat for a long time, there was nothing. The group could pause but there was little to be done in the open shaft. To press on, the silence would finally be broken by a skittering clatter and the crushing crash of a crate of being smashed against the wall. Bathed in the darkness, a terrific beast shambled about what could only be a way camp of sorts. It was a large rough chitinous plate covered crustacean. It looked similar to a lobster, but it was at least 8 feet long and 3 1/2 feet tall. It’s claws were serrated and monstrous. The beast swung about at the scent of the arrivals, a gurgling cry of anger escaping it’s toothy grasping maw. It’s tail raked against the wall sending up a stream of sparks behind it’s thick armored covering. It was probably thick enough to withstand conventional weaponry. Across the floor, packages of unexploded ordinance were kicked about beneath the beast’s pointed limbs. And yet, this could not be all of it. Even if the crates that had yet to be broken open all contained the same, this was not enough. There had to be more. The tunnel went deeper. The sound of lapping water radiated up through the darkness. In it, a thick eyestalk watched. And through it all, the darkness pressed, tasting for death, for sacrifice. “Daha böyük tanrı üçün qurban!!”

The industrial lift rattled and shook a sit descended into the depths. It took multiple trips to transport the stormtroopers, Knights, and Lieutenant down to the loading zone beneath the city. The grating of ancient gears told of their coming well before the gate creaked open to reveal a dimly lit pinkish coral cavern carved into the heart of the city’s base. Water dripped in the unseen darkness beyond. Lights faintly illuminated the cavern lined with pallets of supplies, most of which appeared to have been broken open and gone through. Three maws stretched out into the blackness. The one to to left was smaller than the others and unlit. As the group got set up to begin their quest, a clattering of rocks falling in the unseen beyond echoed from the shaft as it stretched down into the depths. To the right, the sounds of rushing water cascaded from the inky dark. The central main shaft was dingy but illuminated by glowrods. Those that had not fizzled out, illuminated a set of rails that glistened under the humid heavy air. Here in the deep beneath the unseen seas that pressed in outside, the darkness was almost palpable. Beyond the pitch black that consumed even the feelings of light, a malignant aura pressed in, hungering as the new arrival’s piqued it’s attention. “uşaqlarımı salamlayıram. mənə gəl.” it called out low on the waves of the darkness that was the force pressing in. “What is that?” one of the trooper’s asked aloud. “It feels like there is something or someone here. I thought we were hunting smugglers? L T what are we supposed to do?” “We can divide up, four each to to LT and each Knight.”

The foundations of the city rumbled and groaned. Pebbled debris on the street vibrated and shook for a moment before settling to stillness again. Lightly hung pictures clattered to the floor. The deeper one was in the city the more intense the vibrations were. Up and down the city, engineers and residents looked up in surprise, mumbling concerns as they returned to their work. Imperial engineers redoubled their efforts beneath the surface of the sea trying to patch the ever-growing cracks in the exterior foundations of the city. Water continued to surge where massive patches had not been placed and seeped about the edges of patches where the cracks grew with the shaking. Still the massive coral reef that supported the city stood strong even as signs of distress appeared in it’s vibrant sea life, strands of death whitening the myriad of color and putrid sulfuric expulsions began to drive away fish and other creatures that could flee. An icy wind blew through the city, whispering thoughts of destruction and sowing seeds of doubt. The dark side gnawed on the edges of the stiff breeze, growing and waning on the rise and fall of the wind as it swept in from the open sea; it’s lonely howl whipping between buildings and through open windows and doors plucking the returning warmth in a storm-heralding chill. “Uşaqlarımın yanıma gəlin”

Deep within the bowels of the sea, an ancient hunger grew in glee with each death, pouring it’s own powers into the darkness that had taken ahold above. Every death, fight, tear of pain, and howl of loss shimmered in the waters of Mon Cal before slipping beneath the surface. The darkness topside was being beaten back by the forces of good, receding like the tide to surge again with the pull of the night. Even there, the darkness lurked in the shadows, it’s touch light and nearly unnoticeable to all but the most discerning. And still, if one were to still themself and allow the force to speak to them they might here it, a dark chanting over and over again: “Uşaqlarımın yanıma gəlin” Wherever chaos broke it’s bonds, tempers flared and a dark laughter seemed to whisper in the background, gone if one turned to give attention to it. It was as if a dark wraith floated on the shadows, gone with a glance or a breath. “Uşaqlarımın yanıma gəlin”