The swamps called out to Deonis, they had since he arrived on this planet. He had resisted the call for a long time but now it felt right or at least felt like a better time, he wasn't sure what the swamp held but there was possibility that more power was held here or something that might help in the coming conflict.

So armored and armed he set out into the swamps following the dark call that resonated from deeper within, the nature rough and uncompromising, pushing against him, testing him almost. He barreled forward one step at a time.

Pushing against, testing him, all was true as he attempted to delve deeper within. A presence felt on him, watching him as he journeyed forward. A coldness lapping at the back of his neck that could not be sent away with even the greatest of willpower.

[Average Difficulty Athletics Check with Two Setback.]

Deonis pushed through using his natural strength the dark power here called to him he felt closer to the force more readily flowing to him but for some reason he couldn't draw on it the power that presented itself required calm and control and all Deonis knew was passion and drive. So he used it to push ahead letting loose a little as he powered through the muck and grim and nature that tried to block him.

he felt a presence watching him but he was focused on the task ahead and he had heard feeling watched was part of this place.

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D1 Swamp walk athletics avg diff 2 setback enhance bonus: 4eA+2eF+2eD+2eS 1 success, 1 advantage, 3 Light Side

Deonis has little problems making it through the trials of the deep swamp. Managing to keep himself composed and managing himself and his pace through the harshness of the landscape. For about an hour longer he travels deeper and deeper into the swamp. Lead on what feels like a rounding path with no end until he finally bursts through a bush into a small clearing with a singular pool of black sludge at its center. Here this place has a distinct scene that overwhelms the senses and causes the eyes to tear up a little at the stench.

Yet, despite the assault on his senses there is a cold push toward the pool as if it is inviting him inward. Calling to him to step forward and sink inside the muck. Any step closer it begins to sound more and more like a demand instead of subtle prodding and pushing forward.

He hesitates for only a moment being driven by singular purpose and desire for justice. To fight the Empire he would need more power, if this is how he is to claim it then so be it. The armor clad figure steps up to the pool and takes a dep breath before stepping into the muck.

There is an uncomfortable warmth in the muck as he steps in. A warmth that feels as if its crawling up his legs as he seems to descend quickly moving in toward the center. Each step he takes the next step feels more and more necessary until suddenly he was up to his neck and it called for more. Giving him that one last moment to take another deep breath before removing his helmet, if he still wore it, and committing to sink fully into the black substance.

He pauses, the warmth was uncomfortable, he hated it but he knew no other way. To win or even survive the coming fight he needed more power he felt a strong connection to the force, his people always have from what he understood but his training was incomplete. His access to the force was limited or at least his control of it was. His hands shook, he wasn't sure this was the right thing but he had come too far for doubts and he had come too far to stop now. There was power here, he could feel it, power to undo the wrongs he had done and power to stop this Empire of evil spreading like a sickness.

We pan out as se pressed forward hands reaching up a deep breath goes in as seals hiss, a spinning shot, as he pushes up on the helmet a tree blocks view and when it clears there's nothing left but ripples in the dark liquid and a helmet clattering to the ground at the edge of the pool.

Power resided here for certain. Each renewed step into the pool welcomed him in further and further. Until he was suddenly enveloped, like slipping into a chasm he slipped down into the pool and disappeared without a trace. Nearby the footsteps of a woman followed behind.

Underneath however, Deonis experienced the uncomfortable warmth which had slowly enveloped him quickly shift in its nature. What was once warm was now a thick cool material which seemed to bite at his skin. All around him was the blackness of the material covering his eyes and filling the rest of his senses with a cold dread. Without any sense of up or down, left or right, he couldn't even be certain of how far down he had fallen. Weightlessly held aloft by the black material.

He sank fully embracing this darkness and did his best to focus on the power getting to it he couldn't rely on his senses so he relied on his feelings he focused on his emotions that sense beyond sense. His anger, his thirst for justice, his frustration at not being able to save those he cared about, and his drive to stop those that would harm the galaxy.

Each second he remains under the timer on how long he can potentially old his breath creeps up on him.

Roll Discipline vs Average, Fear Check.

Fear. Fear was something Deonis was used to. The fear of others fuelled his power and he had long sense learned to master his own fear. One must learn to know their own fear before they can turn the fear in others hearts into a weapon.

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D1 fear the black lagoon average reduced by one with confidence: 2eP+1eA+1eD 2 successes, 1 Triumph

As he calmed himself, steadied himself against the fear something in the liquid appeared to him in front of himself. A humanoid figure with white spaces for eyes that appeared alike light reflecting off a slick oil surface. This entity seemed to take Deonis by the hand and raise it up to where the things chest supposedly was.

Eyes burrowing into him he could feel the presence grow closer, and closer. However, the closer it gets the more threatening it feels. Malice infects and invades.

Deonis can resist: Discipline vs Daunting, 1 Upgrade to difficulty for willingly entering, 1 to Difficulty for GM Destiny, 1 Upgrade to resist from Triumph on Fear: Upgrade vs 2eC + 2eD]

Or, accept the entity.

Deonis hesitated thinking before mentally taking a breath, since breathing was impossible, he had come this far. Control the darkness, use the power to do good. You make your own destiny.

He thought before fiercely looking back into the oily reflective eyes and willing it into himself.

As the creature grips hard on his forearm he can feel it seeping into him. Suddenly overcome with a feeling of resignation to a greater purpose, to the sources own ambition. Having come down this path it was unavoidable that one would have to put themselves at risk against the odds. In order to achieve their purpose there was so much more risk they would have to undergo. However, the feelings he felt in that instant were quickly consumed and enveloped by his own and with his own. A whirling vortex of malice overtook him as the second arm latched on. Pain seared from the touch, bringing him to scream from the pain. Whatever the substance was that was around her poured into his mouth and he could feel himself struggling to move against the entity as his chest lit on fire.

Suddenly the grip was gone and he was able to claw his way out up toward the surface. Coming splashing out in a heap he sent the sludge flying from the pool, finding himself on the edge. Given a few extra heaves he was able to dislodge the sludge from his chest and walk away.

Found in this moment alone at the edge of the pool there was some traces of another having been through here. For now though he was alone, and after this experience he was feeling.. uncertain as to what purpose it may have had.

Except, he *wasn't* alone. A few moments after Deonis had emerged from the pool... so did *another*. A young woman, coughing violently until the last of the sludge left her chest. Which is when she became aware of the stranger there with her. Instinctively she reached for a weapon... but all she had was a harmless looking stick, which she wielded in a manner that implied a certain level of training.

"...and who the hell are *you*?"

Hacking up sludge and muck Deonis took a few labored breaths gaining his bearings when he heard another. In a panic he scrambled for his helmet sealing it over his face all the stranger should have seen was a black muck covered humanoid head.

As he heard the words he spun in a crouched position drawing his own over sized vibrosword his voice a rasp but menace radiating through it an aura of violence and fear around him if she were sensitive to such things. He held the sword like a man trained and experienced in its use. "I could ask you the same thing." Was his terse reply.

All she had was a stick. A perfectly balanced stick, but a stick nonetheless. She did not favor going up against what looked like a heavily armored individual armed with a lethal weapon. Especially one who looked to have had some training of his own.

It was almost reflexive... the way she vanished from sight. One moment she was there, the next... the force obscured her from his vision.

But she was not gone.

"I asked first," she said, now from behind him.

"Did you follow me?"

Misdirect: 2eF 2 Dark Side
[1 DS used to activate Misdirect, lasts for a turn, +1 conflict]

Deonis growled sounds slightly more menacing due to the modulation from his helmet "I was drawn here. Followed nothing but my instincts." His tone was aggressive but his posture was defensive and something about him seemed to grow he radiated strength.

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Committing Force die for enhance: Brawn

"Well," she said, her form now turning visible again; though her hood was drawn down, obscuring most of her face, "I suppose you aren't an inquisitor. At least not one skilled enough to be allowed his own lightsaber."

She manipulated the stick in her hands in a flourish as she calmly walked a half-circle around him, back to where she had first emerged from the pool; studying him as she did.

"And I don't suppose a Jedi would find himself being called to a place like this either."

There was a small pause.

"Yet you've received instruction," she said, a light gesture from her stick pointing at his sword. "And you're here. Right when *i'm* here too. Who trained you?"

"Who trained me is unimportant." He growled "I am no inquisitor and certainly no jedi. I am not hunting you."

He tracked her as she came into view again keeping the sword between them but still in its defensive position "you have been instructed too. And not for a stick I think."