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Author	Topic: Stranger in a Strange Land - Part 7 - Our Time Has Come - UPDATE 5/2 - Chapter 16
Whiskey in the Jar-Jar Registered: Apr '00	Date Posted: 5/30/07 8:51pm Subject: RE: Stranger in a Strange Land - Part 7 - Our Time Has Come - UPDATE 5/2 - Chapter 16
	WHOA! I STILL HAVE A READER! WOO HOO! And not to worry, Casper...I'm not planning to float away just yet...got waaaaaaay too much stuff on my plate, what with trying to write this, work, AND my podcast projects. But I've definitely not forgotten about this thread...just neglected it a bit as of late. So, here's a bit more gory goodness to tide y'all over... Three coralskippers landed in a clearing near the centre of the island. They made no sound as they landed, save a loud thump, accompanied by the sound of several armoured bodies moving as one. Within moments of their touchdown, a company of sixty Yuuzhan Vong warriors had assembled on the ground, dividing up into several scouting parties. Most of them were middle-rank soldiers, judging from their armour, though a few higher-ranked ones could be seen leading them. The assembled soldiers eventually divided up into five groups of ten, each led by a high-ranking Vong warrior. Their heavier armour seemed almost garish in comparison to the armour worn by the others. Still, they had earned the right to wear such vestments through deeds of battle, and all were experienced killers as a result. The others in the groups hoped one day to attain such an honour, and perhaps some of them would this day by ridding the galaxy of the remaining native creatures of this world. One soldier in particular, one dressed in the heaviest armour, stood before the assembled groups and addressed them. “The drone delivered its message near the volcano on the east end of the island,” he said. “So we make our way there. Fan out into this cursed jungle and flush out any would-be interlopers…eliminate them on the spot. Mark yourselves for every native you kill, and I will personally reward you accordingly. Kill the Ambassador, and the Warmaster will make you his second in command!” The assembled Vong all howled an enthused battle cry. “Go forth!” commanded the soldier. “Let this day be ours!” The soldiers all began to move into the jungle in their separate groups until all that remained were the three idle ships, patiently awaiting the return of their soon to be victorious cargo. * * * His chosen group was beginning to fan out. Staves drawn and senses alert, each of the soldiers soon went their separate ways, keeping in visual distance with each other but at the same time virtually isolating themselves. In a practical sense, it allowed each group to cover more ground as they made their way towards the Hive. With any luck, their forward push would flush out any resistance and prevent them from flanking the attackers at a later time. Good intentions, no doubt…foolish…but good… Ravage watched the ten he’d been tracking spread out. Safe on his perch in one of the trees, the tiger waited patiently for the right moment to strike. His only weapons were his claws, teeth, skills, and the lightsabre. The last one however would be no good for the kind of battle this was to be. The thrumming of the energy blade would bring every member of the strike force down on him like summer rain. While such a battle would easily quell the growing rage within him, it wasn’t a very practical move. His eyes narrowed as one soldier drew close. Silently he descended to another tree limb, careful not to disturb the leaves and thereby giving away his position. He was only 3 metres from the ground now…the perfect height from which to strike. As the soldier drew closer, the anger began to swell in the tiger’s soul. The sound of Triel’s last gasping words filled his ears, and he felt the savagery emerge. His eyes began to glow hotly and his breathing became more ragged. His whiskers tingled in anticipation of what was to come, and he could feel his fangs begin to pulse with need. The bloodlust was upon him, and for Triel, Ravage was indeed going to war. The tiger dropped from the tree, landing with a grace befitting his feline heritage. His arms lashed out like coiled whips, grasping the head of the Vong soldier and turning it too far to the left. The neck snapped sharply, and the tiger eased the dying body to the ground. He searched the corpse for anything of use, finding his amphistaff, a villip, and another serpentine blade…one Feslira had called a Coufee. It looked to Ravage that it would handle much like a dagger…perfect. Ravage quickly took what he could from the corpse and moved away, spying his next target and moving towards him. The bloodlust in him was somewhat sated by that first kill, but deep down the tiger knew full well that before this day was done, many more Vong souls would be sent to the Seven Hells. And they would all speak of the demon that sent them there…a demon called Ravage. * * * Bral Breed Aglash’k was no stranger to combat. On many worlds he and his brethren had wreaked havoc on the denizens of this galaxy. The Jee-dai struck no chord of fear in him; they were merely another obstacle blocking his people’s way to ultimate victory. His body bore the scars of numerous battles, and his armour reflected the rewards of such sacrifice. He thought briefly of what it would be like to present Tsavong Lah with the pelt of this ‘Ambassador.’ To be elevated to a rank akin to that of Nom Anor, any Vong would lay down their very lives, and his past victories made him the most likely to succeed in his mind. He’d battled with many of the great warriors of the Republic and the Empire, and had cut most of them to shreds. Despite this creature’s reputation as a slayer, surely he would be no match for Bral’s might. So focused was Bral on his own reputation, he barely noticed the brush in front of him tremble as the creature loomed up before him. By the time his mind had registered what happened, all he could do was listen to the swoosh of the amphistaff blade as it cut cleanly through his neck, removing his head from the rest of his body. As his vision slowly faded, Bral could only see the feet of that which felled him, and mouthed a silent curse before his life finally ended. Brief, but hopefully satisfying -----signature----- Stranger in a Strange Land...REPOST http://boards.theforce.net/beyond_the_saga/b10477/29243158/p1/?0 Outcast - Podcast Novel http://outcastnovel.mevio.com
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Casper_Knightshade Registered: Oct '00	Date Posted: 6/1/07 12:50pm Subject: RE: Stranger in a Strange Land - Part 7 - Our Time Has Come - UPDATE 5/2 - Chapter 16
	Satisfying none the less, Whiskey! Always good to see Ravage back in the fold. Reminds me of the new John Rambo trailer. Oh, it's so goooooooooooooooooood! JOY! -----signature----- Did You Honestly Think It Was Over.... http://www.geocities.com/thesithhunters/home.html --------------------- Dethklok! Dethklok! Dethklok! DETHKLOK!
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Casper_Knightshade Registered: Oct '00	Date Posted: 7/27/07 9:31am Subject: RE: Stranger in a Strange Land - Part 7 - Our Time Has Come - UPDATE 5/2 - Chapter 16
	GOLDEN! -----signature----- Did You Honestly Think It Was Over.... http://www.geocities.com/thesithhunters/home.html --------------------- Dethklok! Dethklok! Dethklok! DETHKLOK!
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Casper_Knightshade Registered: Oct '00	Date Posted: 10/10/07 7:08am Subject: RE: Stranger in a Strange Land - Part 7 - Our Time Has Come - UPDATE 5/2 - Chapter 16
	Okay, I shot Lassie: you may post now. :P FORWARD! -----signature----- Did You Honestly Think It Was Over.... http://www.geocities.com/thesithhunters/home.html --------------------- Dethklok! Dethklok! Dethklok! DETHKLOK!
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Whiskey in the Jar-Jar Registered: Apr '00	Date Posted: 11/15/07 9:44pm Subject: RE: Stranger in a Strange Land - Part 7 - Our Time Has Come - UPDATE 5/2 - Chapter 16
	Wow...been a long time, hasn't it? I know I shouldn't be making excuses, but I have to say as far as DRL goes, 2007 will be a year I'll be glad to have behind me. A lot of my writing has slowed down recently, owing to my Dad's passing in July...and add to that the piling expenses of my car constantly needing repairs, and yeah...my head's not exactly been in the best of places for anything creative. It's been a slow process, but I'm slowly crawling out of the funk now, and things're starting to look better. I'm writing again, though not as prolifically as I was before. I'm also working on my podcast novel (Dalan's origin, if anyone's interested), as well as a few other creative endeavours. So, I'm really...really sorry for leaving this go for so long. I hope anyone who's left out there will be forgiving enough to give this battered old writer a second chance to entertain you. Thanks. Close to a kilometre away from where Bral met his end, another battle was taking place. Already, the Vong had lost six of their group, and were still no closer to discerning who was attacking them. Every few minutes, an arc of white hot plasma would streak forth out of the surrounding foliage and take down another soldier, but when the others went to investigate there was nothing for them to find. Blast bugs and thud bugs had already paved a good portion of the surrounding area down, but still the beams returned, claiming soldier after soldier. Their leader, an advanced scout named Trrsk, was growing frustrated. His heart was pounding with the realization that his life may end this day, and that the glory of victory would be denied him. He scanned the surrounding bushes, his eyes alert for the slightest disturbance. He gripped his amphistaff tightly in his hand, waiting… Waiting… Waiting… Waiting…THERE Trrsk reared his arm back as the next plasma beam shot out, cutting down yet another of his comrades. He hurled his amphistaff like a javelin towards the source of the beam, and his ears made out the sound of it strike home, cutting into metal and then into flesh. He saw the bushes rustle, and then a gout of dark green blood erupted from it, spattering on the ground. “Attack!” he cried. He and the remaining soldiers sprinted towards the blood, staves ready to carve up the creature behind it. Their cries were wild, guttural snarls of bloodlust as they moved, crashing through the underbrush and seeing what Trrsk’s efforts had gained them. There were no words to describe it…at least none that could be uttered in time. Yes, Trrsk’s staff had struck home; an Invid Enforcer lay dead, the staff still sticking out of its chest. Yes, dark green blood still poured from the wound, soaking the ground, and yes, Trrsk could indeed mark himself for this kill…the first of this sortie. Well, he could have…had the other three Enforcers waiting for him had let him. It had been a group of four that stalked Trrsk’s squad. Moving like shadows, they struck quickly and faded away, making the remaining Hated Ones afraid and jumpy. They had deftly avoided the explosives they’d hurled, which had felled so many trees, and continued to strike, burning one soldier after another to Hell. It had been unexpected and unfortunate that one of the Enforcers had to die to draw the rest in, but it was an opportunity the remaining trio intended to capitalize on. Their armoured bodies betrayed no emotion as their plasma cannons reduced the remaining Vong soldiers to ash. Not so much as a twitch could be seen as the remaining four Vong screamed out their last oaths of defiance. However, beyond the armour’s cold exterior…beyond the barrier of speech across which only one Invid had crossed, their minds and souls all thought the same thing: Burn, you murderers…burn in the fires of the Wasteland. * * * The screams could not have been better timed. Ravage’s third target was distracted by the screams of his dying comrades, and barely registered the hand covering his face. It wasn’t until he felt the coufee blade being dragged across his throat that he began to struggle. Any exposed skin soon felt warm as his blood washed over it. His anxiety made his heart pound harder, which only served to empty his body faster. He tried to cry out, but all his voice could manage was a blood-soaked gurgle before he fell to the ground convulsing violently. Ravage wiped the blood from his hand on his chest, painting his white fur with it. His crimson eyes gazed down at the twitching remains of his last kill and he couldn’t help but smile. It had been far too long since he’d done work like this. The familiar sensation of the kill danced over his senses, supplying his grief-stricken brain with an oh, so overdue dose of endorphins. His blood-soaked consciousness wondered how he could have possibly given up such a thing in favour of a family life. This was where he belonged…on the battlefield slaughtering would-be conquerors and evildoers. He was the true spirit of battle…the bringer of war…the Hand of Ra’Tal… “Over there!” The tiger cursed and sidestepped as two thud-bugs screamed towards him, missing his body but obliterating the tree behind him. The force of the blast knocked him off-balance, but instead of collapsing on the ground he tucked himself into a dive-roll and came up on one knee, his arm cocking back and hurling the Coufee. The hardened serpentine dagger twirled towards its target, catching one of the soldiers in the neck. He gurgled out his last words as blood sprayed from the opened arteries, pulsing like some kind of sadistic garden sprinkler. Ravage had been in motion even before the Coufee had found its mark. A mere heartbeat after his comrade had died, the other soldier was blown off his feet by a devastating kick from the tiger. He hit the ground, not noticing that his chest plate was now decorated with a distinct foot impression. Winded but unhurt, he sprang back to his feet, amphistaff at the ready. “Tsavong Lah will reward me for your hide, creature,” he hissed. “Come and get it, skreg,” spat Ravage, “I ain’t got all day.” Their staves met like two sword blades, clashing again and again as the pair duelled. The Vong soldier moved his amphistaff in one intricate pattern after another in an effort to confuse and intimidate his foe, but no matter his moves, Ravage would not relent. The tiger was a blur of fury, barely giving his opponent time to breathe as he attacked. Over the past two years, Feslira had been training him in its usage should the need arise for a field weapon switch. The tiger reminded himself to thank her for the training when he got back home. Home…Naboo… Ravage’s rage swelled even more as thoughts of possibly returning to his adopted home filled his mind. Triel was gone, yes, but now be believed…believed that escape was possible. Yes…there was a chance at victory here…a chance to rid this planet of the Vong and secure his ticket home. His only obstacle now was the packla in front of him, offering up a valiant but altogether pathetic show of force. Now…he would no longer be denied… His tactics changed almost mid-stride. Now, instead of mere staff-play, Ravage had become more of a clutch-and-grab fighter, accenting parries with the odd backhand to the Vong’s head or a kick to the chest. He’d tried a couple of foot-sweeps, but the soldier had been a little too quick for that, safely bounding out of the way of the tiger’s foot. Ravage didn’t let this frustrate him, though…he knew for a fact that this guy was going down. It was only a matter of time. The Vong soldier came in for another flurry of strikes, starting with a mid-height swipe. Ravage jumped back and leaned back to avoid the return stroke, which had been intent on taking his head. He let the momentum of his move catapult him into a back-flip that landed him back on his feet, his gravity re-centred and out of reach of the Vong’s weapon for the moment. The soldier, seeing this, moved to close the distance between he and his adversary. He didn’t realize until it was too late the purpose of Ravage’s retreat, but soon had little to say about it. As he raised his amphistaff for a devastating downward slash, the tiger’s left hand struck out like a cobra, catching the Vong soldier at that delicate junction between the armoured helm and chest plate…namely the neck. The force of the blow all but crushed the Vong’s windpipe, and the momentum of it forced him back. He dropped his weapon and clutched at his throat, trying desperately to bend his trachea enough to allow air in, but in those moments of hesitation the tiger was on the move yet again. Ravage’s amphistaff sliced through the Vong’s right arm at the shoulder in an upward stroke, severing it cleanly. The tiger then pirouetted clockwise, throwing his entire weight behind the neck-level slash, which took the Vong’s head in another clean stroke. The soldier’s body crumpled, his severed jugular spewing blood all over the place, including onto his killer. The tiger looked at his fallen adversary, his whiskers now tingling madly as he sensed the remainder of this scouting party approaching. The sounds of his battle must have drawn them here. He scanned the group approaching, now more cautiously than before. Five soldiers, and one that looked like their leader now stood before him. The lesser soldiers all seemed to hesitate at first, seeing this creature before them, clad in nothing but a pair of shorts and covered in the blood of his enemies, but they soon steeled their resolve, each intent on claiming Tsavong Lah’s prize. Greed…such a foolish motivation… Ravage’s heart pounded like a war drum. He drew in one ragged breath after another. His eyes burned crimson and his teeth were bared in a savage snarl. His muscles vibrated with anticipation, and his fangs itched with bloodlust. He twirled the amphistaff in a gesture of defiance against the oncoming attackers. “Attack!” yelled the Vong leader. “Destroy him!” All five charged at once, the commander lagging somewhat behind to perhaps land the fatal blow after their quarry had been somewhat worn down. However, as he watched the felinoid before him spring into action, the commander began to instantly regret his strategy. Ravage introduced his first target to the tip of his amphistaff. The ophidian blade slipped easily into the Vong soldier’s body, slicing through his heart and killing him almost instantly. While the move had been decisive, it had been a tactical error on the tiger’s part. He was unable to withdraw the staff in time to parry the next Vong’s strike. Instead he forewent the staff at the cost of a nasty gash on his right arm. The tiger winced and found himself off-balance. In desperation to arm himself, his left arm reached down and his fingers wrapped around his last hope of salvation: Soulsbane. The hybrid lightsabre crackled to life and Ravage swung wildly, the blade slashing through one of the attacking Vong soldiers. The soldier screamed as the blade passed through his armour, and the others around him took a step back as they saw his life energy follow the green blade away from his body, only to be absorbed into the blade itself. His rage abated only a little, Dalan took a moment to analyze the sensation in his hand. The tingle was back as it had been against the Invid messenger, but this time there seemed to be something more behind it. This time, the sensation travelled from his hand straight to his mind, and he instantly knew the Vong soldier’s story. His name had been Trak Breed Ag’Mus, and he’d been a faithful follower of the Purity since his youth. To him, the Warrior’s Dream had been the fulfilment of a childhood dream, namely to serve the cause of the Vong in their search for a new home. Instantly, Dalan realized the other side of this weapon: While it truly was a stealer of souls, it made sure the wielder of such a weapon knew everything about the life it had taken. The Invid Enforcer messenger had not left any mark on him probably because its brain wasn’t quite that evolved. However, it seemed that against a more advanced sentient the weapon reacted differently. Still, with no other recourse before him, the tiger set his mind back on the battle. Four more Vong stood before him, all of them having regained their composure after watching their comrade’s soul get ripped out of him and absorbed into the tiger’s blade. His right arm stung and he could feel the blood flowing…something he’d have to take into account. His left hand flourished the blade in a Katu pattern taught to him by his grandfather, and his eyes once more resumed their unholy glow. “All right,” he growled. “Who’s next?” * * * The fighting lasted for what seemed an eternity. Moving like phantoms in the forest, the Invid Enforcers brought down the Vong strike force efficiently and with only minimal losses. For every Enforcer that met its end, no less than five Vong were sent screaming into the afterlife from their weaponry. Within a few hours, the strike force that had numbered over fifty had been reduced to a mere handful. Of course, the Invid weren’t the only ones sending the Vong to the next world. Ravage had become a one-tiger terrorist squad, attacking from the shadows and melting away, leaving a trail of blood and offal in his wake. There were no survivors from the groups the tiger stalked…his vengeance in Triel’s name demanded totality, and that was what he delivered. Nrik Breed M’oTg felt his heart pound with anticipation as he and the few remaining Vong soldiers broke through the tree line and beheld the volcano before them. The lava tube at its base seemed as inviting as lover’s embrace, and they quickly moved towards it. While they had no idea what awaited them within, the remaining dozen soldiers and Nrik felt it had to be safer in there than it had been in the forest. A scream from behind forced the Vong leader to turn around and behold a horrific site. The last soldier to clear the tree line had only made it a few meters before an immense orange, white, and black creature exploded from the foliage and seized the soldier, dragging his screaming form back into the underbrush. The screaming stopped moments later amidst the wet, meaty sounds of flesh being torn open and innards being pulled out of him. Nrik doubled his pace towards the volcano. Thoughts of claiming the pelt of the Jee-Dai’s guardian were the last things on his mind at this moment. Survival was his only goal now. Once away from the killing fields of the forest, he could regroup and re-evaluate his position. He could always send a distress call over his villip, and summon a larger strike force…perhaps one large enough to merely raze this island and all its secrets. The sound of erupting plasma blasts filled the air and was soon followed by the screams of the doomed. Nrik looked around in horror, watching as white hot streaks of light touched his comrades and reduced them to screaming, flaming hunks of meat and bone on the ground. The beams were strong enough to barely be slowed by the voodun crab armour they all wore. Each soldier that fell did so with a gaping hole in place of part of their chest, neck or head. These wounds were merely a precursor, though, as subsequent blasts set the bodies alight, filling the air with the acrid smoke and stench of burning bodies. Nrik did his best to drown out the screams of his dying comrades. To fail in this mission meant certain death for him. He pushed himself onward, deftly side-stepping the hail of plasma bolts that left scorch marks on the ground around him. The gods seemed to be smiling upon him as he closed the distance to the cavernous entrance in mere seconds. However, as he got within 2 metres of the opening a seeming wall of white landed in front of him. Six of the armoured native creatures now barred his way, weapons drawn and trained on him. Instinctively he crouched, amphistaff at the ready for the inevitable battle. Only six foes stood between he and his objective. They would fall quickly enough. Another sound made Nrik turn his attention back to the tree line just a few feet from where that one unfortunate soldier had met his fate. Out of the foliage stepped a creature that both intrigued and terrified the Vong leader. He’d seen enough about this mysterious Jee-dai ally to recognize him, but his fur was streaked with so much dark Vong blood, Nrik began to wonder if he’d feasted on some of his kills. He swallowed hard and brandished his staff menacingly, his mind and soul preparing for battle. The tiger moved with a grace and speed that was almost too quick for Nrik to counter. As it was he had to bring his left arm up to deflect the first punch thrown his way, and even then was barely able to keep it away from him. The force of the blow was enough to knock him off-balance and prevent him from avoiding the boot to his chest. Though protected by his armour, Nrik still felt like he’d been hit with a point-blank concussion blast. He let the momentum of the kick carry him into a back-flip, bringing his own foot up and catching the alien in the chin. He heard the creature grunt and, as he landed, noticed him rubbing his jaw. The alien then spat out a rather nasty combination of phlegm and blood before assuming a type of fighting stance. Nrik twirled his staff again, sinking into a crouch with his left hand outstretched and his right holding the staff at a 45 degree angle. He flashed his teeth as he moved in, sweeping his staff first right to left, then left to right. He missed both times, but managed to connect with a quick snap punch to the tiger’s chest. He then brought his right leg up for a kick only to have it batted away. Again, he’d been knocked off balance and couldn’t counter the massive right hand rocketing towards him. He felt the fist connect with his face and was momentarily sickened by several crunching sounds. He felt his jaw, a few teeth, and part of his sinuses break under the force of the blow. He felt another blow to his head, but his helm took most of the force. Still, it was enough to leave him dazed and unprepared for the kick that catapulted him off the ground yet again. He expected to merely fall again, but instead felt another kick send him several metres back, skidding as he hit the ground. Nrik tried to blink away the spots that insisted on clouding his vision. Try as he might, though, he couldn’t focus his vision. Blood filled his mouth and he tried not to choke on it, coughing roughly and rolling to his side. His shattered teeth joined the bloody pool beside his face mere moments before he was roughly pulled up by his opponent. He managed to find his footing, but there was no strength left in him. He was at the tiger’s mercy, and said a quick prayer of forgiveness as he felt the two massive hands grip either side of his head. He couldn’t even scream as his skull collapsed under the pressure. Ravage pulled his hands away, each filled with the bloody remains of the Vong’s skull. The body crumpled to the ground, its still-beating heart pumping the remaining blood onto the forest floor as the tiger stared at his hands. Flesh, bone, and grey matter sat in his palms, jiggling slightly with each breath he took. The cold, calm rage he’d felt while dealing with that packla slowly began to fade as the more familiar, hot rage began to build within him again. He clenched his fists, squeezing what was left of the Vong’s head and letting it ooze out between his fingers. He could feel the sharp edges of the skull poke his palms, but he didn’t care. He clenched harder, letting the fragments lance his flesh and mingle his blood with that of his enemy’s. He lifted his fists high into the air and cut loose a roar that seemed to echo all around the world. After several minutes of roaring, a winded Ravage brought his hands down and opened his palms. They were a bloody mess, but then so was the rest of him. He felt his muscles begin to quiver as the adrenaline rush faded. He moved his cut arm, realizing that the wound had barely congealed before facing off against the last Vong soldier, and the loss of blood was quickly catching up to him. He turned towards Azar and went to take a step towards him. His knee buckled and he felt himself fall. Luckily for him, he was unconscious before he hit the ground… Author's note...when writing fight scenes, playing Mortal Kombat is a great source of inspiration This ends Chapter 19...with any luck I'll be posting Chapter 20 in a few days. Until then... -----signature----- Stranger in a Strange Land...REPOST http://boards.theforce.net/beyond_the_saga/b10477/29243158/p1/?0 Outcast - Podcast Novel http://outcastnovel.mevio.com
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