The black VT-49 Decimator dropped into orbit over the planet where the Temple resided.

“VT-49, identify yourself,” an eerily pleasant voice came over the speaker.

“Tell your Consul, Sanguinius, that the shadow that has become death; haunts him still,” Etah’s answered somewhat quizzically.

“Lower shields and prepare to be boarded VT-49,” the chirpy voice replied with a little more resolve.

“That would be a mistake,” Etah informed them casually.

Before the fleet of Naga Sadow could respond to the developing situation, a new line entered the conversation.

“This is the Consul, authorization code 11 Alpha, stand down; VT-49 is clear for landing,” Sang’s voice rang over the line. “What can I do for you old friend?” the Entar continued.

“You know why I am here; terror always follows death just as misfortune must always follow fortune,” the Sith Battlelord replied cryptically.

“Beef said you had started acting strange, I didn’t actually believe you were stranger than you were within the Shadesworn,” Sang said half concerned and half joking.

“Things change friend, nothing in fact remains the same. Even when we think it does. It will be interesting working on you over this matter,” Etah replied.

A hologram of Dark Jedi Master Bloodfyre appeared on the deck, Etah nodded his head briefly toward the hologram acknowledging his mentor but much less dramatically than some other Tarenti would have.

“I’m glad you made it, for there is much work to be done” Bloodfyre said to Etah through the homogram.

Lightsabers of all colors sprang to life illuminating the trees and throwing shadows around the group. The light from the weapons of the Jedi revealed the hideous creatures that had surrounded the Sadowans. They stood approximately 2.5 meters tall and looked as if they were pure muscle. They had bronze skin that looked almost as if they were made of rock. They only wore a loin cloth, but carried a very large sword.
One of the Dark Jedi charged the beast. With one large swing, the guardian cut the Jedi in half. The guardians began to cleave who ever stood in their way. The telltale hum of lightsabers igniting was heard through the melee. The beasts began to fall as the new combatants waving the banner of Tarentum sliced through their thick bodies.

Raikou examined the stone door blocking entry to the chamber where the spectre incident happened. The party, himself included, had tried everything to get past it, from blaster fire to thermal detonators. Not a scratch. The Raider didn’t care much for the Sith whore that was trapped behind the door, but being appointed as the new Quaestor of House Shar Dakhan meant losing her would disturb the state his Clan was finally in, ordered and disciplined.

The sound of hastened footsteps coming from behind him broke the silence. The Keibatsu turned his attention toward the sound, only to see an enormous Dashade, whom he immediately recognized as the Consul of Clan Tarentum, making his way toward him alongside a handful of troops.

“I believe there is a situation here?” The Warlord’s presence was ominous. “Would you mind if we gave it a shot?”

“Knock yourself out,” Raikou replied, stepping out of the way. “We’ve tried everything, it won’t budge.”

Frosty Romanae Tarentae stood two meters tall in front of the stone barrier, his eyes closed, his arms wide open, and his lips moving as he muttered something silently under his breath. All of a sudden, he let out a deep, loud cry that made the atrium tremble and started running at his target. With a loud crack, his clenched fist made contact with the door, leaving a deep dent in it.

The Tarentae turned toward Raikou, blood running from his knuckles. "I suppose you haven’t tried that yet?"