Evil Overlord Speed Dating

[coiledscales]

Let it never be said of Alacruun that he is one to simply rest on his laurels. He enjoys planning. He likes ticking off every check-box. Dot the Is, cross the Ts. All that sort of thing - and from time to time he enjoys getting his hands dirty. Especially when it means digging into ancient ruins and looking for artifacts that will help him obtain that level of godhood that he's still pursuing with a fervent sort of single-mindedness. The clues and ancient annals have led him to an out of the way corner; supposedly, some ancient precursor civilization (older than him, even, which is rather impressive) left behind many of their artifacts. A veritable treasure trove, if the battered old notes and dusty journals are to be believed.

He goes by himself; he has no need of followers for this. Not when he has power in his own right (being able to see in the dark is also a bonus when you're going dungeon-diving). Especially not when he'd rather not let said underlings get their hands on who knows what and then getting it into their heads that it's a good idea to try and test him.

No, no.

Far better to do this in person.

It's why he finds himself picking his way through the crumbled, ancient, underground catacombs of some long-buried city, trying to find a way past a dead-fall of rocks and debris.

It's rather irritating how much time seems to change things and make this so much more difficult than it has to be. He's contemplating just blasting some of the rocks out of the way (or melting through them with acid) when he thinks he hears something in the darkness and he pauses, head swinging around to listen. Are those... footsteps?

Who else is here?

Comments

[therevanchist]

Weapons, artifacts, tablets, Star Maps, whatever--it's always the floor of the ocean or the ground on Kashyyyk or the bottom of a half-collapsed tomb on the crappiest, hardest-to-reach planets in the galaxy. Why couldn't the ancients just put things in safe deposit boxes, honestly.

Moving rocks is easy, and Revan's tossed aside a few boulders in the course of finding her way deeper into the complex. It's seeing in the dark that's the hard part. She's spared the effort of figuring out how to get the Force to do it for her by the fact that her mask has infrared sensors built into the visor, and she's throwing off enough heat to illuminate the dusty old passages. The Mandalorians turn out to be good for something for once, imagine that.

Given that the place has been abandoned probably since the Infinite Empire was a going concern, she's not making much of an effort at stealth. So yeah, those are footsteps. They stop for a moment when Revan senses another mind where there should be only echoes, but sound of boots on stone resumes after only a brief pause, no faster or slower than they were before. If there is some kind of guardian and it's stupid enough not to bend the knee, she'll make short work of it.

"Hello? Come out so we can get this over with."

[coiledscales]

Alacruun's turned in the passageway to face the newcomer. This is irritating - why would anyone else be here? He was sure he'd collected most of the existing tomes about this place. Competition is really the last thing he wants. He takes a few steps forward as they approach, fingers flexing as he mentally recites a few spells that he thinks might come in handy in the next few moments.

"You're rather sure of yourself," he replies, sounding almost bored with the idea as he emerges more fully into the corridor.

The newcomer has some rather interesting armor and an even more interesting mask. Oh, and robes. Stylish. Practical.

Huh. He actually approves.

"What exactly would you like to get 'over with'?"

[therevanchist]

"'Rather sure?'" Revan pauses a moment to consider taking offense over the qualifier. She's Darth freakin' Revan, erstwhile Savior of the Republic and current Dark Lord of the Sith. She's very sure of herself, thank you. Still, only the wildly insecure pull that 'don't you know who I am?' nonsense, so she just cocks her masked and hooded head, any expression of chagrin or puzzlement hidden, and hooks her thumb over her belt, right next to one of her lightsabers. She doesn't recognize his species, but that doesn't mean anything--she'd never seen the Rakata before, either. If he's this far down, he's as confident in his ability to defend himself as she is...okay, maybe not that confident. But confident, and not in that blustery way that means someone's in over their heads, either.

"I thought you might be some kind of guardian, but it looks like you're just here to rob the dead." After a beat, she shrugs. "Me too, so no offense," she says, as though the possibility of him taking offense had only now occurred to her and she hadn't phrased her comment that way on purpose. Revan's a good liar on top of being covered from head to toe, but if she'd truly intended that to be believable, she'd have kept herself from sounding so amused.

[coiledscales]

Well, she's blunt, in an almost delightfully refreshing way. There's a flicker of a smile on Alacruun's face and than an outright burst of laughter a moment later. He's not... relaxed; oh, no, he's still waiting for the other shoe to drop. He doesn't plan to let himself be killed here (then again, no one ever really plans to allow themselves to be killed).

"Of course," he replies, "They're dead; they no longer have a need for it. I, on the other hand, am very much alive."

Which clearly means that it's a case of Finders, Keepers v. Weepers.

"But what did you come here looking for? I worry we might be after the same thing and that... might be a touch awkward, wouldn't it?"

He's still all polite smiles and quiet confidence, but there is something glinting in his eyes that hints at him being quite willing to kill in order to get what he wants.

[therevanchist]

Tact is for those who don't rule a third of the galaxy through a combination of personal magnetism, military brilliance, and the ability to kill dissenters with their minds.

"That's the problem with visions. They so rarely specify." Yes, Revan's wandering around a probably-haunted necropolis in the pitch dark because she had a weird dream.

Invisible behind the mask, her eyes flick over him, from his horned head to his sensible shoes. He's uncanny in the infrared, his own body heat making him bright against the coolness of the surrounding stone, washing out his features into a spectral blankness.

Fortunately, Revan's not limited to mere sight. He's uncanny in the Force, too, not awake and aware in the manner of a Force-sensitive adept, yet somehow bigger than he should be, her mind insisting that her eyes are lying to her, and suddenly he's so much more interesting than the ruins around them. You've seen one decaying monument to the hubris of sentient beings, you've seen 'em all, but he's new. Plus, he's ready to kill her if she sets a toe wrong--she will generously disregard the low likelihood of him pulling it off in her assessment of his character--but none of it's showing outside his presence in the Force, and she has to respect that level of cold-blooded dissembling.

"We could always team up for now and then try to kill each other after we've found whatever it is," Revan suggests in complete sincerity, not bothering to act like she hasn't seen through his friendly demeanor. They're clearly both professionals, so they can bypass the usual bald-faced lying and pretending to fall for said lying. "Assuming we can resist stabbing each other in the back on the way down, of course," she adds with a wide-armed shrug, her voice rippling with a hint of laughter.

[coiledscales]

"Divination is really more of an art than a science, isn't it?" Alacruun observes. Visions. Scrying. He's dabbled, but it's not something he's really tried to rely on too much. Interesting that the newcomer does. He supposes it takes all sorts, so he can't really judge. Not when she's being rather... open about everything. He can respect that. Easier than fawning and worrying about a blade in the back. Well, if she's being honest about being honest, anyway.

What else does one expect, though?

He laughs, lips curling in a little smile that might be a touch cruel, maybe a touch haughty, and then he sweeps into a bow that probably wouldn't be out of place in some monarch's court. He can work with this. At least for now. If she tries to kill him, she'll be in for a surprise - although she seems confident of herself and he's not sure what she brings to the table. He'll have to wait and see so he can factor that into his planning.

"I accept. But before we continue, I believe introductions are in order. You may call me Alacruun. No titles. Not just yet, anyway..."

Which might be a sop to his ego. He wants to make sure of this thing before he goes around calling himself a god.