At one point in time Luprora stood as a haven to the immigrated Lupr’or. The haven did not last as worsening climates reduced the population down to a single settlement. All that remains is the corpse of a civilization, constructed from a combination of wood and metal that barely resemble buildings. They function more as a protective shell and a solid frame for those that remain, hoped to be far outside the reach of the native threats.

The rising tide of the expansive seas lap at the outcroppings of obsidian rock that makes up what remains of the land. Mountainous croppings that shrink with the coming waters. Passageways and staircases are carved into the stone itself, left to assist those travelling in low tide. The scattered relics of technology lies abandoned throughout the expanse as a testament to the Lupr'or's original immigration, left unused and at the mercy of erosion and time.

The tide stands as the greatest threat to life on Luprora. Starting at its lowest point at dawn, the tide rises throughout the day and brings with it the native Tsw’ells. These tentacled monstrosities sleep in the earliest hours of the morning and reside in the ocean’s waters. It is ill-advised to travel along the shoreline, as Tsw’ells have been known to drag unsuspecting individuals to their deaths beneath the waves. These massive creatures aren't the lone threat to those who trespass upon the surface. The R’ora live among the shallow outcroppings across the planet. Extremely territorial, this species is sentient enough to wield primitive polearms and rely on the presence of Tsw’ells for protection.

Luprora the haven is a promise lost to the sea, with only the battle for survival left behind.

A’lora’s footfalls along the narrow cliff were forecast with rhythmic thumps from her quarterstaff. Salt and moisture clogged her nostrils as the ocean’s water crashed against the rocks below. Fierce and tumultuous, the current forced seawater through channels in the cliff, making the passage even more hazardous than its lacking width would suggest. Swollen from moisture, the pads of her feet met the ground with wet spattering noises matching those of her staff.

Fortunate for her tree-like qualities, Vorsa’s feet took on a flatter shape reminiscent of tree trunks, plodding down onto the stone without much visible effort for balance. Unlike her travelling companion, the Neti was well within her element as a being that thrived where moisture was most abundant.

At dusk, this cliffside passage from the village would cease to exist. Swallowed whole, the rising tides and sea monsters would rise to reclaim it until the morning. The duo had left the comfort of the Lupr’oran village at the first light of dawn, when the tides were at their lowest and the Tsw’ells rested on the seafloor, though not soundly.

“This world is most strange. How is it possible that our enemies could hide something here, much less survive?” Vorsa asked while surveying the horizon.

“It’s possible,” A’lora spoke plainly, “that none survived.”

Contained within a low barrier of the same obsidian stone forming the cliff face, the Jedi arrived at a shallow basin of water. Red algae floated on the surface, obscuring the subtle movement of sea life beneath it. Ahead, more stagnant pools stretched out as far as Vorsa could see.

“These are…” Vorsa observed, recognizing the descriptions of the sea floor from the Lupr’or villagers.

“Breeding grounds.” A’lora finished, coming to the same conclusion. She moved her staff through the water, disturbing the algae as it broke apart and scattered to the edges of the basin. Something translucent caught the light, nestled among similar objects sunken to the seafloor. “R’ora,” she confirmed.

As if to echo the revelation, Vorsa felt something cling to her leg like a vice. It wrapped around the trunk-like appendage, tightening its grip as it forced itself above the surface. “Offspring,” the Neti discerned, reaching a hand to the creature in curiosity. Confused, the creature took hold of the hand offered to it, releasing its hold on her leg to curl itself around the Neti’s forearm. Its lidless gaze fixed on the other being wading ahead of its perch, following the Togruta with an interest that betrayed its feral nature.

Following from a safe distance to intervene, Vorsa matched the creature’s interest with her own affectionate concern. Producing a scanner from the objects tied to her outfit, the Togruta set to work on locating the source of the signal that Morgan’s contacts informed them about—garbled transmissions resembling those of a surveillance beacon. If the Inquisitorious had something to hide, the seafloor would provide the means.

“Across these grounds,” the accented voice called. “Here,” her index finger indicated a sheer cliff opposite of the R’ora breeding grounds, to a crevice along the otherwise flat wall.

“We’ll have no time to navigate around this before the tide sets in,” Vorsa replied pointedly, “Dawn will soon end.”

“Then we will make our stand,” A’lora decided, setting towards their goal.