main
side
curve
  1. Welcome to the new boards! Details here!

Star Wars Dark Reach: Episode I - An Order Remade

Discussion in 'Role Playing Forum' started by Lady Belligerent , Jul 1, 2019.

  1. Mitth_Fisto

    Mitth_Fisto Force Ghost star 6

    Registered:
    Sep 29, 2005
    IC: Soliloquy - GM Approved
    The Cloning chambers, Tipoca City, Kamino

    Shimmer simply glowered in Esmerelda's face. Between the two a Force bond had sprung up, though in it's infancy, but it was clearly detectable in the sea of clone intelligences that were above them, and the school of Kaminoan ones in the lower levels - indeed this surface level and the immediate levels above and below were the sole ones inhabited by both clones and Kaminoan's in any major fashion.

    Lama Su had not expected such words. They did not err on the side of disrespectful, not quite, but instead were brutally honest. Lama Su managed a practised smile, and gestured offhandedly. "I appreciate a clear experts view of our craft. You are not crass enough to haggle over units, but instead look at the product, and our finish, purely from a genetic viewpoint. I approve, Lord Soliloquy, and you shall have your clone army, and indeed, I look forward to accepting your input into our processes..."

    His expression grew more possessive. "Indeed, I expect to secure your knowledge on the process as part of your payment for use of my facilities. I may allow you to negotiate some of the finer points of our usage of the same, legally, but clearly we have a lot to learn from each other." Lama Su spoke to Soliloquy as if an equal, and Taun We was now definitely flustered.


    The negotiations seemed to be going well, when they were interrupted, the Prime Minister's face conveyed irritation. At least he thought it did, but the message was far more pressing. Not tomention the implications of it being openly broadcast. His defenses raised as he went from protecting himself from curious clones, now to protecting himself from something unknown.

    "You claim to be kin to Kamino, but come doing the work of others; of this Lord Insipid, who pontificates and makes directions from afar. You are an outsider, wearing our genetics as if they entitle you to special attention here." A laugh, a melodious chitter that no Kaminoan should speak.


    Fantastic. Someone got caught. That was going to complicate matters. His red eye irised rapidly as he took in the room, the Force, the flow. Was it the breeders or the his blind seeing apprentice?

    "I serve the True Lord Kronos, you see. I know that among your numbers is a 'fake' Lord Kronos, who does not deserve the title. You will see now as I say the words of power Order 66."


    Kark. Somebody had a flair for nostalgia and un-originality. Shimmer screamed, clutching her head, and Taun We and Lama Su were suddenly uprooted by the floor beneath them bursting outward, sending them and other Kaminoans spinning. Taun We rolled to look back at Soliloquy, who was suddenly confronted by the Kronos-clone, its nostrils flared, and in its hands a jangle of electricity.

    "Yes." he simply intoned as the clone faced him, and then showed the stupidity of that things state of mind. It unleashed the attack on him, when he was ready for it, facing him. Using Force Deflection the energy gathered between his armors horns above his head into a small point of crackling energy before he re-released it into the clone. Aiming to stun and incapacitate it for a few hours.

    Turning his head as the body dropped he focused on his apprentice in this room. As he floated over the unconscious clones chest he erected barriers over the leading Kaminoan pair in the room and over Shimmer. "Focus on my voice, if you cannot defeat basic genetic programming you shall never know my depths. Fight, or die as a puppet. Above all, keep calm. Unlike the Sith we do not let our passions drive us, and unlike the Jedi we do not suppress them. We control them, we use them, we acknowledge them."

    At this the clone now beneath him obviously woke up, his mouth open in a silent scream as loud cracking noises were heard coming from beneath his drapery. In the Force it was a primal wave, a blast of pain and fear. A cry for help, and a warning. Satisfied with what he had done, consumed and shaped he lifted away from the clones body, floating back with fluttering waves of his robes his work it was laid bare. The ribs had been twisted and deformed into a circle of arches irrespectful of organs or other parts that had been in the way, with the heart still beating at their epicenter. Each rib was splintered along every exposed surface, or upon closer inspection broken into three dimensional glyphs. The sternum in contrast stood straight up into the air, by far the most deformed by these intricate geometric letters. The intercostal muscles and skin were spread out in wavy ribbons draping out across the floor like rays leading out from a sun of that vain glorious heart that still yet beat. Pitiable lungs no longer able to breath quivered in their moderate deflation with a thousand nicks upon them as a puddle of blood began to trickle flow out from the body, signalling the shortness of life as Soliloquy's head dipped in one swift motion.

    SCHTICK! In time with that motion the apex of the sternum, that spear tip of binding support like a scorpion hounds tail struck down, piercing the yet beating heart. In a last silent scream dark energy seemed to rip from every portion of the clones body to swirl about the heart before feeding out and up along the encircling ribs to meet at a fine point above the body where a black and red mass formed, pulsing. Once. Twice. "I will protect you for two waves. Then we shall see if you are worthy." he simply stated just before the sphere exploded out. A phantasmic show of shadow and blood intangible rushing past all and through the very confines of this room.

    It was a combination of several techniques old and ignored. It was the Sith's Death Field, and the Jedi's Force in Balance along with a minor targeting focus - the clones body. Clones were unique in the Force and this exploited that tinge, that humanity flare. The blast would go out twenty meters, any clone unshielded would be stricken, their hearts ramped even higher to stopping or bursting, and then their essence ripped from their bodies to feed back to the loci of the first clone he had killed, consumed in the ritual. Unlike the original form of these abilities where that energy was fed and used to heal the caster, this was to feed a second further reaching blast if enough clones were caught and consumed in each blast it would continue to expand. Until it reached a point where it could no longer draw enough in to fuel a larger blast. At which point Soliloquy would capture that energy and Force feed as needed his latest apprentice to life and health if needed. He wasn't done with her yet.

    TAG:
    @Sinrebirth
     
  2. Darth Cocytus

    Darth Cocytus Jedi Master star 3

    Registered:
    May 8, 2016
    Combo by Darth Cocytus and Sinrebirth

    Darth Cocytus, Koa Ne, and Faya Ne


    Something was wrong.“True Dark Lord Darth Kronos”? What was Koa Ne talking about? Or rather the better question is who is she really? Because unless she was being mind controlled, this was clearly not the real Koa Ne. A clone most like, Cocytus presumed, and the same could be said for this so-called “True Dark Lord Darth Kronos”. Regardless, everything Koa Ne said was simply nonsense about Cocytus's loyalty to Insipid and any Sith Lord who knew him would know that.

    Nonetheless, it was all worth a try using negotiation as a tactic to take advantage of the situation, Cocytus thought, and found something else to work on in the future. He tightened his defensive stance as the cold glare in his eyes intensified with anger as Koa Ne spoke the magic words “Order 66”. An order meant for a surprise attack, not to be said right in the target’s face, especially one who knew it’s meaning.

    As the kaminoan guards opened fire, Cocytus quickly moved his lightsaber in with tight defensive maneuvers, deflecting each any every blast with the quick and swift reflexes of soresu. The Sith kaminoan then reached out his hand to reach out into the Force, absorbing the next series of blasts with the use of tutaminis before turning his hand slighting. That instant each guard would feel something grab hold of their necks, as if invisible tendrils sprouted from Cocytus’s hand, and lifted them up in the air in strangulation. His icy glare intensified as he stared at the struggling guards and poured out his anger and rage onto them.

    In a matter of moments, the room suddenly became even more unnaturally cold as if a blizzard blew inside and as the strangling guards began to sprout intense frost bites as their body temperature dropped several degrees. In a quarter of a minute, Cocytus tossed aside the now frozen husks of dead kaminoan guards. A most terrible smirk of absolute thrill grew on his face as he grabbed hold of Koa Ne’s neck with the chilling power of the force and dragged her towards him. It’s been such a long time since Cocytus killed members of his kind. He wondered if -- and partly hoped that-- Koa would give him an excuse to do so again.

    “Now, as you were saying, Koa Ne, if that’s exactly who you are…” Cocytus spoke softly as he looked deep into the possible impostor's eyes, “Tell me about how you came to work for this so-called True Dark Lord Darth Kronos?”

    Cocytus then glanced at Faya Ne with his most intense yellow eyes, seeing her still hiding behind the Prime Minister’s ladle like chair and returned to Koa with a most hideous smirk of absolute cruelty . “Unless you want me to kill another one of our kin.” he added.

    The choice is hers, Master. Darth Cocytus told his master. Let the weak hang themselves with their own rope.

    Faya stepped from behind the chair to see her mother speak. She too was curious of what Koa Ne knew... and intrigued about Lord Cocytus, with his incredible power.

    Koa hissed. “My Master came to me with the truth of the galaxy; that the Sith had survived the death of Palpatine and would come for me, and my mind; that they sought eternal life. He did not want my skills, merely to keep them from you - he taught me...”

    The Sidious AI snapped, a moment to slow again. Kill her as I ordered!

    “How to fight!” Koa threw out a hand and a Force blow impacted with Cocytus’ chest, hard, even as she gestured the wave of blasters littering the floor to hurl themselves at him - moving away and shattering his Force grip.

    All the weapons except one, which was in Faya’s hands.

    As they neared Cocytus, from Koa’s fingers erupted with lightning, arcing for the blasters - which abruptly exploded, hurling shrapnel at him!

    As you wish, Master. Cocytus agreed, satisfied with the information given to him. He was now anticipating what would happen next. Forgive me master.

    Next thing Cocytus felt was something hard push against his chest before his body ended up flying across the room. However, calling upon the force to augment his being, the kaminoan quickly did a sort of midair flip. It was so that Cocytus landed onto the wall in such a way that allowed himself to immediately push himself launching towards the other kaminoan.

    As he charged, Cocytus summoned his lightsaber's twin to his free hand and released a second crimson blade. With a flick of his wrists, in the same manner of soresu, the Sith Kaminoan swiftly brushed both blades through the shrapnel. Every scrap if blaster that got close to him were reduced either even smaller pieces or simply pure plasma while any bolt of Sith Lightning was also absorbed into the blades.

    There was no time for games and there will have to be another way to initiate Faya Ne into the Sith. Thus, Cocytus showed no hesitation when he got close enough to Koa and swiftly swiped his blades to cut her down.

    Koa dodged one blow, and blocked the next on her wrists, the bracer there, which had seemed purely ornamental until now, catching the blow - and the lightsaber winked out of existence! Cortosis, Sidious snarled, it has shorted your blade out.

    This was rapidly becoming an actual fight, and Koa whirled away, feet touching the wall and then she flipped over Cocytus with a smug smile, eyes level with his. Her hand fluttered and the Prime Minister's chair ripped free, intending to crash into his side. She had the Force coiled within her, but she could already sense that Cocytus was akin to a tank, and she was at a disadvantage if she went strength to strength with him.

    Faya watched, blaster kept to herself, pointed generally at them both.

    Darth Cocytus blinked in surprise as his left handed lightsaber extinguished upon making contact with Koa's bracer. Cortosis! How in the galaxy did this woman get her hands on that, the Sith Kaminaon couldn't help but take a quick second to wonder.

    Such questions were better left to future speculation as he followed Koa's movements with a spin, putting his extinguished blade on to his hilt and clutching his remaining blade. Deciding to keep his distance from the other kaminoan as to not make the same mistake, Cocytus swapped hands with his lightsaber, his prosthetic hand now clutching tightly on the hilt, as he kept within his soresu stance. Stretching out his good hand, Cocytus unleashed an intense barrage of Sith Lightning in this rare moment of his anger and hatred heating up as it became poured onto this foe.

    Cocytus made a quick glance at Faya Ne, aiming her gun at the two of them. This could still be a chance for Faya Ne to begin her initiation into the Sith. She holds you back! Kill her! Cocytus commanded as he spoke within Faya's mind, returning his focus on Koa, intensifying his anger and therefore the lightning erupting through his fingers , KIll her and take your first step in your journey towards the Dark Side as my apprentice! The path to power beyond your imagination!

    In the meantime, never one to become overconfident in fights, Cocytus kept his guard up with his blade, just in case Faya decides to do something stupid…

    The bolt of lightning was intercepted by the chair, and it exploded into wreckage, briefly obscuring Koa Ne's location, who abruptly reached up and tore the ceiling fixture downwards upon him, and then shifted her hands to pour a bolt into the floor where he stood.

    Koa Ne was laughing, because Cocytus was all brute force, and not much else. He was angry, and she was smart.

    Faya seemed to get the jist of his thought, and pointed her blaster.

    At him.

    But, she did not fire.

    It seemed Koa Ne was stronger in the Force than Darth Cocytus originally thought, much to his annoyance, and as cunning as he was. She had to be an Apprentice herself to this Darth Kronos Clone, whatever he was planning. Even more so, this battle of the Force was becoming a duel of Wits, Endurance, and Stamina.

    First things first, though, of course, he had to deal with the next barrage of attacks. In a defensive stance, the Sith kaminoan stabbed his blade downward near his feet to absorb the lightning. Raising his other hand, Cocytus grabbed hold of the falling debris with the Force before flexing his wrist to toss them aside around him.

    Breathing heavily, although not quite in exhaustion, and raising his blade, Cocytus stared at Koa and glanced at Faya, seeing her aiming her blaster at him. His eyes narrowed at the younger Ne, once again in warning, but also uncertainty, before returning to the Elder.. Taking a deep breath and focusing on his anger and hate, he smirked at Koa and got into his defensive stance. "Come now. Is that the best you got?" Cocytus taunted coldly,"Your force skills are impressive for an amateur, but how about your skills with the blade? Surely your master has taught you the art of lightsaber combat?"

    Koa paused for a moment, breathing even more heavily than Cocytus. It was clear that she didn't have a lightsaber. That her training had not yet progressed. Sidious laughed. Her master doesn't know how to make one, clearly. For all her Force skill, she is projecting strength she does not have.

    Swallowing, Koa stood to her fullest height. "I am my Masters apprentice, I stand as a Sith, and you stand as an interloper. I will carve chaos of the order of Kamino, and birth monstrosities to consume the galaxy. Death stands as my mate, not as my foe; with it I shall cultivate the greatest species ever created -"

    Faya Ne shot her.

    Gasping, Koa toppled, and Faya strode over. "None of those things make us Kaminoan, mother - they make us monsters." She reached to close the yellowing eyes. Look back to Cocytus, she warily stood. "I saw that she was defeated; I just made it a mercy and a tribute to our future... if we have one." That head swaying again; uncertainty. "Are all Sith monsters, Lord Cocytus? Is there no Order, just Treachery and Spite?"

    Darth Cocytus rolled his eyes at Koa's little speech, finding her to be no more Sith than she was Jedi. What kind of apprentice carry no lightaber, let alone not practice it's arts? However, he snapped back to attention at the sound of a blaster and watched as Koa fell to the ground dead and glanced at Faya Ne walking forward. A cruel smile curled onto Darth Cocytus lips, knowing full well that he succeeded. Faya Ne was his and on the path to the Dark Side...

    The Sith Kaminoan waved a hand at Faya's concerns. "Mercy kill, or no. You killed your mother nonetheless. Do not mistake treachery and spite for chaos, Faya, for they bring strength and order to the Sith." Cocytus said calmly, glowing staring at his prize as he stood before her like a tall dark shadow, "They cull the weak and make sure only the strong survive to rule. When apprentices overthrow their masters by means of cunning and strength, proving that they themselves are stronger, the Sith Order itself ever becomes itself stronger. However, one must admit treachery and spite have also ultimately proven to be self-destructive to the Sith with infighting nearly leading us to near extinction many a time. That is why only two there should be. No more, no less. A mater to embody the power and an apprentice to crave it. That was how Darth Bane decreed a thousand years ago and how it must be again. The Sith have become too many and the venomous power of the Dark SIde has become diluted. Another purge is needed for the Order to survive. Tell me, though, Faya Ne... I embody power. Do you crave power?"

    @Sinrebirth
     
    Last edited: Nov 1, 2019
  3. Snokers

    Snokers Jedi Master star 4

    Registered:
    Jul 8, 2015
    IC: Darth Anark
    Aboard The Dark Dreamer, Nal Hutta

    This was quite hilarious.

    Anark tried his hardest to keep a straight face as Syren unraveled before the group over her new attire for their next mission.

    Plo had been sheepish when he’d presented the garments to both Syren and Bellorum but it was a plan that, given the lack of time and resources - and their current location, made sense.

    There was a rabble that nobody else in the area would hear, one only he would be privy to; they all yearned to see not Lady Syren, but Bellorum in the metal bikini.

    He shook away the image and resolved to wait patiently until the ‘auction’.

    And so Anark and Plo would be the traffickers - the sellers. Yes, it could get them that bit closer to where they wanted to be.


    TAG: @Lady Belligerent @QueenSabe7 @Darth_wanderguard @Sinrebirth
     
    Last edited: Nov 1, 2019
  4. Silvertough

    Silvertough Jedi Knight star 2

    Registered:
    Aug 19, 2018
    Azeth Drost
    Tipoca City - Revolution

    The hologram calling itself the true Kronos snorted, perhaps in indignation, Drost wasn't sure. The hologram's words were a double edged sword, being both fascinating and dangerous. And he said he wasn't a Darth! pfft..

    Drost was running out of time. He knew it, and so did his host. The planet itself seemed to tremble in the force, a shivering whisper which rolled through his body in waves. Something BIG was about to happen, Drost was sure of it. Azeth Drost had become well accustomed to stumbling into traps since his arrival in this most recent timeline, and this? This was the trappiest trap yet..

    The Miraluka swallowed involuntarily, momentarily betraying his inner emotions to his host. How were you blindsided this time dear Emperor?

    His thoughts were interrupted by the room's intercom bursting to life with a hiss of static, the speaker clearly in mid conversation with an unknown party. "You claim to be kin to Kamino, but come doing the work of others; of this Lord Insipid, who pontificates and makes directions from afar. You are an outsider, wearing our genetics as if they entitle you to special attention here." A laugh, a melodious chitter that no Kaminoan should speak, "I serve the True Lord Kronos, you see. I know that among your numbers is a 'fake' Lord Kronos, who does not deserve the title. You will see now as I say the words of power Order 66."


    For a second, Drost's world was quiet, as if reality was blancing on a razor's edge, a mere breath from tipping in calamity. Drost saw the roar before he felt it, a cascade of raw, unfilitered screeching with tore through his mental barriers as if they were tissue paper. Thousands upon thousands of minds collapsed into terrified chaos in unison, a blinding display of uncontrolled panic which engulfed Kamino instantaneously.

    If that hate wasn't all directed towards himself and his allies.. Drost may have found it perversely glorious.. Unfortunately..

    A second later, Drost dragged himself back to the here and now, focusing entirely on the hologram in front of him, for the moment attempting to tune out the chaos reverberating around his skull like an infernal drum beat. Shuddering, Drost clasped his hands behind his back, hiding them between the baggy sleeves of his robe.

    "As revolutions go.." He said, between a groan, "I've seen worse.." Drost shook his head, finally able to think clearly, the distant screams of Kamino now nothing more than background static. "I have no desire or need to help my fellow Sith. Believe me, if they couldn't manage a few deranged giraffes, than why bother? What I'm really interested in is your end game." He said, taking the time to slowly move away from the door, positioning himself so that the hologram was now between him and the door. "So you, or your master, whatever, sprung a trap on two Sith Lords, a lowly apprentice, and, with recent revelations, your clone and his.. wife?" Drost shrugged, " So now what? I'm assuming the rest of Insipid's Sith were similarly ambushed during their missions, right?"

    The Miraluka tilted his head towards the door. The unmistakable sound of heavy footfalls could be heard nearby.. it seemed they had found his scent. Drost's lightsaber silently ejected from it's sheathe into a palm, still hidden underneath his robes. "Do we really need to go through these motions? All that's going to happen is my allies and I will fight our way out against all odds, we'll all reunite up with Insipid again, and then his plans will fail and we'll repeat the process!" He said, slowly adopting a variant style of the soresu opening as the footfalls grew ever closer. "I would so very much like if I could go a week without having to fight Insipid's battles..." Drost finished, imbuing his words with open invitation. He doubted the "true" Kronos would, or could do anything at this point, but hey, worth a shot.

    Drost ignited his lighstaber with a flurry, his crimson blade bathing the previously sterile white room in a blood red haze. Through the force, he saw them. Currently only four deranged clones, but that was enough. Either through the force, or through some other means, they had found him, and where now running headlong towards the door separating them, their mouths expelling howling shrieks of rage and pain..

    Tag: @Sinrebirth
     
  5. Sinrebirth

    Sinrebirth Immortal Mod-King of the EUC, Lit, RPF and SWC star 8 Staff Member Manager

    Registered:
    Nov 15, 2004
    IC: Luke Skywalker
    Kuat Hotel plaza

    Stepping free of a hastily erected Force bubble, Luke took a gasp to recover his composure as the Zabrak and the Anzati sped away. As he saw, there were half a dozen police speeders in hot pursuit; nifty speedsters, but Luke and his pilots' eye knew that the Acolytes had commandeered a sports-model; the kind the elite had but only as a trophy; a mid-life crisis kind of ride.

    They would thus be able to keep pace with the police vehicles - as ever, Kuat had a single flesh-and-blood controller, and a droid partner per unit. The droid was a battle variant of an IG model, and one did not take such things lightly. Each speeder, save for two, had a droid leaning out the window taking particularly precise shots. The others, their human partner was doing the shooting; and being more accurate for it - a shot took out a rear light, and another holed the dashboard glass, adding a spiderwork of cracks to obscure Manticore's vision as he drove... in an unfamiliar City.

    Bernael, of course, was busy feeding upon his late Master's corpse, absorbing not a shred of his soul but a whirlwind of memories affixed to the man's brain. His soup was layered, three separate flavourings, and the Anzati would recognise a man who had split his consciousness in three, somehow, and made each taste different. One was decipherable to Bernael in his most primeval mind; the mind Anzati rarely called upon for the fear of the loss of control... another was completely alien to him... but the last was the conscious thought pattern, a collapsing matrix of memory.

    I shall be to them both traitor and saviour.

    The words echoed through Bernael...

    ... about a second before he became intolerably drunk on the blood of Insipid. His vision blurred and his reactions slowed; if he spoke, he would slur, and if he used the Force to rectify the situation, he would grow worse, to the point of feeling another unnatural desire; the need to vomit, when he didn't even process food like other mammals.

    But that didn't account for the plaza.

    As Luke set calm upon the bystanders, extinguished fires, and soothed minds, he turned to deal with the last Acolyte; the woman. As he looked, she launched an attack on the hotel itself, and he felt the fear of his sister and brother-in-law as the floor they stood upon suddenly was rent with damage and tipped them out into the open. Luke reached out his right limb - missing his droid hand thanks to the Zabrak, and caught them, but they had a long way to go down and he didn't have the precision at this distance to not catch a chunk of the hotel structure itself; he had to bring them down, slowly.

    As he did, he pointed his green blade, still in his left hand, at the woman.

    At Leda.

    "You have been abandoned; I reached out and blocked what I thought was a tug in the Force upon me, but now I know it was for you, much as your Anzati friend was saved. Surrender, or else die." Luke was confident that even taxed and one-handed he could fight the woman, but it would a narrower fight than he would like... especially as a crack was spidering down the hotel base structure and he needed to keep that together or risk more floors collapsing.

    TAG: @QueenSabe7, @greyjedi125, @darthbernael
    ---
    IC: The True Kronos

    Amused

    "You may presume what you like, Drost," the True Kronos said, glowering. "You are correct; the clones will fail. But will the Kaminoans let you use their world now? After you brought misery to it? After Sith infected their precious perfection? I don't need to win, apprentice, I just need to sow chaos."

    A huff. "Insipid will continue to fail, of that you are correct. But of the rest? I was handed a great deal of information... information that proved to be correct. Your Keshiri operation... the plan to deal with Ni'Korish, on Hapes... the visit to Senator Apollin on Kuat. It didn't take much to arrange an investigation into the latter, a high profile target that of course Mon Mothma would send her best team to look into. I wonder how your Dark Lord will deal with Luke Skywalker."

    A snort. "Not that the name probably means anything to you; but the destroyer of the most powerful Sith in existence should terrify your Dark Lord and indeed his little A-team." True Kronos laughed. "I mean, did he even assign you to a team? This is his C-Team, my friend. The ones he could do without. The spares."

    "So if you do want to break this little cycle, then certainly - join me, and don't return to Insipid begging for scraps." A leering chin appeared as he slightly leaned forward; it was definitely a chin that belonged to someone familiar, but not Kronos... the shape of the ,outh... more... feminine? In a strange way, as if a mixture.

    But then the doors were being beaten at; the four monster-clones had found him, snarling; sensing him.

    "They can smell Sith blood," True Kronos said, absently. "I keyed them to the scent of the dark side, which was particularly impressive of my apprentice, no? But I imagine Koa Ne is dead now, so why wonder. Her work..." The hologram gestured. "... I have taken it. I will perfect my own clone army, one which will consume the galaxy whole... one which I can trigger, and send away, any time I like..."

    "I can save you, Drost... I can make you truly see the dark side of the Force. Your way ended with Bane, but it need not. The Sith are replete again, but serving Insipid's vision of One Sith, One Order, One Empire... where is the strength in that?"

    TAG: @Silvertough
    ---
    IC: Lama Su
    Chaos, but surviving

    The Prime Minister had no desire to extend matters, and led Soliloquy to his office, to Cocytus, the... aura of death consuming a dozen clones as they went. He spoke as he did. "We can seal the upper levels, Lord Soliloquy." Taun We carried/dragged Shimmer with them as he moved, careful not to pull too far away. "There is a control within my chair; back in my office, where I left Lord Cocytus and Faya Ne, Koa Ne's daughter. If Koa is indeed behind all this - she'll go after her daughter."

    There was a colossal roar behind them; a noise of many, many screams. "They're coordinating, I fear," Taun We said, narrowing her eyes to look back the way they had came. "Your... death field, I suppose, Lord Soliloquy, is highly effective against a handful of rogues clones pressing themselves upon it; they die very efficiently. But I imagine that a horde of the defective clones will overpower it." She lifted a willowy hand, pointing. "No?"

    Sure enough, there was that very horde.

    "I know not how they are coordinating, but it is very swiftly arranged, my Lord. We need to hurry to the Minister's office, but we also need someone, or something, to stall them. Can you?"

    Lama Su had left the protective field to rush to his office; it was not far. Shimmer simply writhed on the floor where Taun We had left her, clearly fighting the controls upon her. Order 66, Lama lamented. Again it cursed Kamino.

    TAG: @Mitth_Fisto
    ---
    IC: Faya Ne

    Prime Minister's office

    There was no question of it.

    Faya felt the empowerment of Cocytus sweep upon; it filled her whole. Every limb sparked, and she felt that he was definitely the embodiment of all she sought, secretly, cravenly, a wish kept from her mother and the world.

    She wanted to escape this world and become something powerful.

    Something feared.

    "I submit myself to your power, Lord Cocytus." She knelt to him, looking up at the male with an expression of unblinking resolution. "I pledge myself to your teachings, my Master." The dark side of the Force intermingled between the two of them, pressing upon the back of Cocytus' throat to name her; to claim her for the Order of the Sith Lords that Cocytus professed to be rebuilding.

    The Sidious AI appeared to be holding its breath.

    The moment was breached by the Prime Minister, Lama Su, tripping over himself to get to the office. He looked at the bloody tableau; the five bodies, the wrecked room, and gasped in a most-un-Kaminoan way when he saw the wrecked chair, which had been hanging from the ceiling, a trail of wire sparking down from it.

    "There are controls in that chair which can seal the upper levels! Protect us from the compromised clones!" His words tumbled from him. "Without that, we are doomed!" He rushed to the wires, eyeing them. "I have not the technical knowledge to hot wire the override." He looked back at Cocytus and Faya; only then noticing their poses, and blinking furiously.

    "Do you?"

    The Sidious AI paused. I do... but do we require this world, or not? Shall we let it fall, consumed, and move on, or stay, burning away at the heart of Insipid's foolish order for longer? We are Two in body and not just spirit now, my apprentice...

    But I bequeath the decision upon you; it is
    your homeworld.

    TAG: @Darth Cocytus
    ---
    IC: Ike

    Aboard the Dark Dreamer, Nal Hutta orbit

    "I get to be the owner, dressed in that?" Ike almost jumped out of his skin with happiness. "I am so there, Plo. This is going to be awesome."

    But then, Syren had to be the downer, but no surprises there. She was dour after her break-up with Aryan, and he couldn't disagree.

    She threw the uniform down, and Ike glowered, almost losing control of the moment to slide into thoughts of Bell and Plo together... no, no, no, NO. Anark didn't say anything, as ever.

    "I meaaaan," he said, gesturing a hand to draw the metal-bikini to his hand. "I could be the slab of meat up for sale and Syren could be the fancy buyer wanting some fine ass slaves for her collection." He pouted. "But I don't think my AAA-cup will pull off the top-half of the ensemble."

    He grinned. He also realised that he was stepping in for Syren against Plo and Bell technically, but he just really wanted to play dress-up.

    TAG: @Darth_wanderguard, @QueenSabe7, @Lady Belligerent, @Snokers
     
    Last edited: Nov 3, 2019
  6. Darth_wanderguard

    Darth_wanderguard Game Host star 6 VIP - Game Host

    Registered:
    Apr 26, 2005
    GM UPDATE

    IC: Bellorum & Plo - Dark Dreamer, Nal Hutta

    Bellorum stifled a laugh at Syren’s reaction to the garments, which she was in agreement with the assassins opinion, but it would do no good to take any sides currently. Tucking her bundle under her arm, she nodded to Haretisch with an expression that said, “well played.”

    “I’m sure we can come up with a more appropriate outfit for Syren,” Bellorum said while still looking at her former lover, “if she doesn’t approve of this one,” she motioned to the “outfit” at Syren’s feet. “Would that be acceptable?” Bellorum glanced now to Syren, “I believe we should give this plan a try, after all what’s the worst thing that could happen?”

    Plo, who had quietly accepted the berating he had been receiving from the assassin, was growing frustrated. He was not accustomed to people, let alone Syren, the oldest now of any in his retinue, not doing as they were told.

    “It fits Bellorum just fine,” he explained. Did it ever. He blinked, and pushed those thoughts from his mind. Maybe he’d dispense with keeping Bellorum at arm’s length after all. A man did have his needs. “And you’re both fairly equivalent in um... that aspect,” he continued a moment later, stopping just short of holding cupped hands out from his chest. “I mean, you’d mostly be wearing the robe over it, right?”

    “I meaaan,” Ike spoke up, “I could be the slab of meat up for sale and Syren could be the fancy buyer wanting some fine ass slaves for her collection,” he suggested, holding the outfit himself now after having called it into his hands. “But I don’t think my AAA-cup will pull off the top-half of the ensemble.”

    “No,” Plo said just a little more forcefully than he intended. It would be a mistake to let Ike run completely wild, and allowing him to be auctioned off at Bellorum’s side as a sex slave wearing a metal bikini was one step away from letting him do literally whatever he wanted. “It requires certain, um... dimensions, or it won’t stay on. I know. Why do you think we had two in the first place?”

    That might have been a bit much to share.

    Bellorum’s expression changed to ice, he was indeed sharing way too much. Maybe he needed a reminder of who was slave and who was Mistress...

    When she’d arrived Bellorum had seen an open tool box on a table behind Haretisch, it was a handy reminder message. Without looking, her smooth wrist movement sent a heavy hydrospanner sailing towards the back of his head.

    Plo was so engrossed in mentally working out how to get people to comply without resorting to his old self that he hadn’t sensed the hydrospanner flying towards him. Bellorum’s aim was true, and the tool bounced off of his skull and struck the durasteel floor with a pang. He was livid.

    Seeing red, he straightened to his full height after recoiling from the impact. He stopped clutching his head, barely resisting the impulse to call for his lightsaber. Instead, the ship simply rattled as he prepared to give them all a dressing down.

    “Go now and change into the gods damned outfits, all of you,” he roared, eyes flashing yellow. “Or don’t. If you’ve no intention of helping, I’ll simply find Hel myself and you can all do as you will. She deserves better. She saved us all on New Moraband, or have you forgotten?” One of the nearby fighters caved in on itself so violently that it hung in midair for a moment before crashing to the hangar floor, engine oozing fuel as it collapsed into a heap of twisted ruin. He turned to board the shuttle that would take them, or him, into the city, and stalked up the unfurled ramp to finish pre-flight checks.

    TAG: @Lady Belligerent, @Snokers, @Sinrebirth, @QueenSabe7
     
  7. QueenSabe7

    QueenSabe7 RPF Awards Host star 6 VIP - Game Host

    Registered:
    Mar 23, 2001
    IC: Syren
    Dark Dreamer, Nal Hutta

    Syren was using the toe of her boot to prod at the discarded outfit on the ground in front of her when she was startled by Ike seemingly standing up for her, even if in his own self-serving manner. Her face crinkled in a what the kriff sort of way as she shot him a look before turning to regard Bellorum, who spoke next.

    “I believe we should give this plan a try, after all what’s the worst thing that could happen?”

    Oh, just about everything, Syren thought in response, but kept that snark to herself. She could sense her defiance had gotten to Plo on some level and for the sake of this blasted mission and her need to keep focused on anything other than her damaged emotions, she seethed but accepted the job. Although, she didn’t say this aloud to the others yet, not when the man formerly known as Haretisch was starting to stammer over his words and casually reveal more than she cared to know about he and Bellorum’s bedroom activities.

    Ugh.

    Syren rolled her eyes so wide that they almost flew back into her head when the two got pissed at one another and a gratuitous show of anger followed. She hoped in her attempt to get rid of her own entanglements with love she hadn't stumbled into the middle of someone else's. A huff and she bent down to scoop up the tangle of metal lingerie when Plo turned his back to stomp up the ramp. “I never said I wasn’t going to participate, for kriff’s sake. I’ve worn less before!” she shouted after him then went off to find a place to change.

    Within the next ten or so minutes she was fully... strapped into the costume, having done so very quickly in order to minimize her discomfort. Like ripping a bacta patch off – fast is best. In doing so, however, she couldn’t be sure that she had put everything on correctly or hooked the right clasps in the right places, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to ask for help.

    Stuffing her regular clothing into her bag and slinging it over a shoulder, she strode back into the hangar sans cloak. That article of clothing was in one hand and her utility belt with weapons in the other as she confidently crossed the floor, feeling the need to make a show of no longer caring about the damn outfit. Though she had to admit that the material it was made from was surprisingly comfortable...

    Faintly pleasant clinking sounds were made with each sway of her hips and she passed by the others without a word, climbing the ramp in silence. Guess she was already in character.

    TAGS: @Darth_wanderguard @Lady Belligerent @Sinrebirth @Snokers
     
    Last edited: Nov 4, 2019
  8. HanSolo29

    HanSolo29 Manager Emeritus + Official Star Wars Artist star 7 VIP - Former Mod/RSA

    Registered:
    Apr 13, 2001
    The following is a combo with Lady Belligerent and Darth_wanderguard:

    IC: Aryan Graul, Dr. Cal Jepsun, Security Chief Rask, and Dr. Olag
    Medical Clinic, Nal Hutta

    Nal Hutta was known as the ‘Glorious Jewel’ to many within the criminal underworld, but as Aryan watched the polluted and barren wasteland race by outside the tinted viewport of the air taxi, he failed to see the connection. Or more accurately, he was simply incapable of detecting the irony of such a name in his addled state of mind. Either way, it did not make for a positive experience. In addition to the hovels and dilapidated structures that lined the dirty streets, the surface had become inundated with flat, muddy bogs, stagnant pools, and sickly marsh grass. A constant rain also beat across the hostile terrain, obscuring the horizon with its intensity.

    In many ways, it mirrored Aryan’s own despondent mood and made him withdraw even more. He had already expressed his displeasure with coming here, and it certainly didn’t help that things had not started out on the right foot; he blamed the hover chair for that. It was yet another restriction, another step back…

    While Aryan would deny that he had caused any trouble or acted inappropriately to the news about the chair – or maybe he just didn’t remember – it had taken the joint efforts of the doctor, the caregiver, and the Security Chief to get him situated. His tantrum had likely been accompanied by a string of expletives, some verbal abuse, and maybe even a physical altercation or two...but again, he couldn’t remember the details.

    What he could recall was that they had ultimately resorted to a compromise to calm him down. In exchange for his cooperation, they had agreed to leave the safety restraints unlatched. But of course, that was all an illusion. Aryan knew they wanted to make it seem like he was free to move around under his own power, though in reality, that was an impossibility. He couldn’t get up, or even walk, without assistance; he was confined to this chair whether he liked it or not.

    And so, he had merely given up. Why should he care when he had no hope of succeeding?

    With a weary sigh, Aryan allowed his body to slump to his weakened side, his shoulder pressed uncomfortably against the viewport and his right arm resting in his lap at an unnatural angle. He remained in this position, staring blankly out at the dreary landscape...until the doctor began to explain the reason for this trip.

    The man revealed that he had found a possible solution, a way to repair the damage.

    Slowly, Aryan angled his chin to study the doctor closely, a spark of hope reflecting in his blue-gray eyes. He may have believed the man, but as Jespun continued on to mention the healer and expressed his own skepticism over whether this would even work, Aryan found that same hope beginning to fade. Why should he put his faith in some self-proclaimed physician from the dredges of society when the doctor clearly had not?

    “No...uh, waste...time,” Aryan grumbled under his breath, his voice barely perceptible over the low hum of the repulsors. “Go...back.”

    He did not wait for anyone to acknowledge his words and simply turned his gaze back toward the viewport. At this point, he was content to let the moment pass.

    Cal sighed heavily and looked out the viewport, damned if he’d even acknowledge Aryan’s comment. He had a feeling about this healer person and they might as well see what the guy would say because he felt awfully close to losing his mind over Hel’s kidnapping and Aryan’s declining condition. Focusing on Aryan was all he could do really, the others were better equipped to search for Hel and the child.

    The taxi slowed in traffic as it entered the sector where the clinic was located, it was truly an awful area. Gangs of individuals stood around pots of flames, and others sifted through piles of rubbish. Wrecked speeders and assorted small vehicles were left sitting where they died, rendering the entire neighborhood an urban graveyard.

    Cal sat back, ran his fingers through his hair, and looked at Aryan. It was his fault that Aryan was so negative, why hadn’t he explained this visit in a more positive light? Damn! He looked out again and almost laughed, they had nothing to lose...except their lives.


    ~ ~ ~


    The “clinic” was nothing more than a crumbling shack and Cal would have been sure they were at the wrong address, except the address was scrawled, likely by a toddler, across the grimy door. In an effort to avoid looking at Aryan, Cal let Valieri handle getting their patient unloaded and to the door.

    Cringing, Cal pulled his sleeve over his hand and pressed the entry pad beside the door, and waited for a response. It took a couple of minutes and another attempt with the pad before the door squeaked open. Dr. Jepsun shrugged and stepped into the clinic’s lobby. The interior pretty much mirrored the exterior, but there wasn’t an opportunity to dwell on that because there sitting at a desk was a massive Gamorrean. The Gamorrean wasn’t unusual, what he was wearing was though. There was no mistaking this was a male and he was wearing a wispy pink silk wrap dress. Cal assumed that the matching shoes didn’t come in the dude’s size because he was wearing combat styled boots.

    The silence was becoming uncomfortable, but he wanted to be sure he could speak without laughing before opening his mouth. “I exchanged messages with Olag, uh, he is expecting us,” Cal stammered. The Gamorrean blinked and stood up, he went to an open doorway and squealed to someone in the back. “Thank you, Hap,” came a reply to the squeal.

    “Welcome, you must be Dr. Jepsun,” said a young man who rushed out to greet them. “Please, call me Cal,” the doctor answered as he shook Olag’s hand. “This is my patient that I mentioned,” Cal motioned to the unhappy Aryan in his hover chair.

    Olag leveled two antiseptic eyes at Aryan from behind a pair of round spectacles. This, along with the man’s expression and general demeanor would make him seem older than he was. His pants were pulled up too high, his belt too tight, his posture crooked. Still, he had a youthful face.

    “Yes, Mr. Aryan Graul,” he observed, and stopped to think. “Anoxic brain injury presenting with pronounced disruptions to speech and intellect, severe physical disability, and intermittent emotional disturbance,” he repeated the patient’s ‘chief complaint’ as he had interpreted the symptoms described to him, and reached to his pocket for a pen light. He stooped, shining the light in each of Aryan’s eyes to gauge pupillary reaction before turning back to Cal. “It’s an interesting case, no doubt.”

    With a soft groan, Aryan crouched down in the chair and recoiled from the strange man as he conducted his initial examination with the handheld light. The luminous beam pierced his eyes and induced a wave of pain that radiated out from his brow and wrapped around to throb in his temples. It was enough to make him gasp, though it was not the sole reason for his unease. Despite the fact that the younger man standing over him fit all the traditional stereotypes of a medical practitioner with his awkward posture, rimmed spectacles, and high-waisted pants, Aryan found that he still did not trust him.

    And rightfully so.

    It was all linked to the overall perception of the place – a ramshackle hut in the middle of a seedy and broken-down neighborhood didn’t exactly evoke much confidence when it came to receiving quality medical care. His own unique situation only heightened his awareness of that fact. Aryan had a very real fear that if he allowed this man to touch him, he would never recover. Perhaps it would even aggravate his condition further, and that was a chance he did not want to take.

    As if to emphasize this point, Aryan canted his head to meet Jepsun’s gaze, his eyes almost pleading. His demeanor had quickly shifted to one of agitation and fear, the tension clearly evident in the way his left hand clenched tightly to the armrest in a white-knuckled grip. He appeared poised to strike, either to lash out violently at Olag himself or to devolve into one of his emotional meltdowns. He lacked the self-discipline to control his impulses, so it was the luck of the draw. However, there was also a bright side – regardless of his depressive state, this reaction seemed to demonstrate that he still cared to some extent, both about himself and his recovery. It would be a difficult journey, but he wasn’t completely lost.

    “No...uh, I--umm, no...expert--ment, uh...touch--mmm,” he stammered incoherently, apparently protesting the young doctor’s last comment. From his perspective, it had been vague, and maybe even a little insensitive. “You--uh, don-umm--kriff!” Aryan leaned forward, now teetering precariously on the edge of the chair. “Under--under, err--stand…none!”

    “Hm, I see,” Olag responded monosyllabically, still regarding Aryan with a cold smile from behind his spectacles. “Definitely emotional disturbance - lack of cooperation and real interest in his own recovery.” He thought for a moment.

    “Cheryl!” He turned and barked, loosing a sound at a volume several notches higher than what one would expect he was capable of. The Gamorrean, who was only a few feet away, snorted in acknowledgment. “Please bring Mr. Graul to the exam room, and ensure the proper restraints are applied, chemical and otherwise.”

    “Hey wait,” Rask spoke up. It did not stop the Gamorrean from scooping Aryan out of his hover chair, by the waist, slinging him over its shoulder and making towards the back.

    “HEY!” Rask shouted, and the Gamorrean stopped, looking to Olag.

    “WHAT?” Olag shouted back.

    Rask gave the Doctor a look as though he were stupid, and then turned the same gaze to Cal.

    Cal shrugged at Rask and lowered his voice, “let’s give this guy a chance. I read that Olag’s methods were unorthodox, but successful.” He turned his focus back to Aryan and followed the direction the Gamorrean had taken him.

    Olag was directing where he wanted his patient, which there was only one place possible. He’d gone around Cheryl and hastily pulled the blankets and sheets up on a small bed. Cal hoped he was wrong, but it sure looked like this was Olag’s bedroom and yes, he’d slept in this bed. Maybe Aryan wouldn’t notice.

    Fortunately, he was far too distracted by the hulking beast lugging him around on its shoulder to note anything of importance, much less make a fuss about the crude condition of the room itself. Aryan had become consumed by his desperation and fear, his actions reflecting his panicked state as he flailed wildly in an attempt to free himself from his captor. It was almost comical with his limited range of motion, though he did not allow his impairment to hinder his progress. Instead, he thrashed all the harder, relinquishing control over to his aggressive tendencies and allowing them to dominate. This behavior seemed more fitting for a petulant child than a former Prime Minister, and it would only increase when it became obvious that his efforts were not having the desired effect on the giant Gamorrean.

    With a sharp intake of breath, Aryan began to frantically shout and curse to convey his message. Of course, most of it came out in a garbled mess that made it nearly impossible to decipher, but there were still a few key phrases that managed to break through the senseless babble. Dr. Jepsun’s name emerged at certain points, as did the words ‘no’ and ‘help’.

    But even then, the Gamorrean appeared unfazed. He had a one-track mind and nothing would deter him from completing the young doctor’s task, much to Aryan’s chagrin. How could he carry on at this point? He already felt himself wavering as the flamboyant creature finally deposited him on the rumpled bed, his body and mind both growing weak with fatigue.

    He was ready to roll over and surrender himself to his failures when a single voice entered his mind:

    "No one can save you but yourself."

    It was quiet and soft, like an echo calling to him from a distant memory. But no...it wasn’t truly that far away; it had only occurred the night before, in his own quarters with…

    Syren.

    Anger and grief clenched Aryan’s heart like a vise, turning his resolve into something feral. How ironic that his lover’s departing words would become such a powerful tool to wield under the circumstances. Or was it simply an outlet for his pain? Either way, he could not suppress his raging emotions, nor ignore his very basic need to escape...to survive.

    Craning his neck, Aryan’s blue-gray eyes burned with a fierce intensity as he regarded the figures gathering around the bedside. Without warning, he lashed out on the nearest target – the bespectacled Dr. Olag. His left leg kicked out violently to connect with the man’s upper thigh.

    To be continued...

    TAG: @Lady Belligerent; @Darth_wanderguard
     
  9. Darth Cocytus

    Darth Cocytus Jedi Master star 3

    Registered:
    May 8, 2016
    Darth Cocytus

    Cocytus raised his hand, his eyes glowing in triumph in claiming a new apprentice. She may yet serve as a vessel for the Sidious AI should she prove a failure. Nonetheless, now that Cocytus thought about it, with the AI merely residing in his head as a guide, he may not actually be breaking the Rule of Two he wishes to reestablish after all. Besides, the Dark Side seemed to have approved of the apprenticeship.

    "Then arise Darth Styx!", decreed Darth Cocytus, officially initiating the former Faya Ne into the Sith, "Arise, my Apprentice, so under my teachings of the Dark Side I shall break you until you become unbreakable."

    Suddenly Cocytus's attention was brought onto the Prime Minster, surprised and annoyed by his interruption. His eyes narrowed as he watched Lama Su stumble over the dead and towards the chair before staring at the Sith Kaminoans. Suddenly a choice was thrown upon Cocytus about the fate of Kamino, homeworld or not, still being overwhelmed by the rogue clones.

    Cocytus closed his eyes in ponderering and meditation to reflect on the choices before opening them. There was now a horrible darkness in those twisted eyes of his as he made his decision. "I am afraid that the entire city is compromised, Prime Minister." Darth Cocytus said in cold calmness, "These Kronos clones don't just pose a threat to the rest of Kamino, but the wider Galaxy, and most importantly, the interests of the Sith. I suggest we find a way to send Topica City to the Ocean depths, ending the scourge of insane Force Sensitive clones before they get any further out of hand..."

    And maybe send Soliloquy and the others into Oblivion with them. He noted to Sidious with a thin and barely noticable smile.

    Cocytus approached the Prime Minister, staring into his eyes as he towered over him in presentation of his power. "Surely there are codes or hot wiring for such a thing. Protocols should the abominations you create become too much to contain. Are there, Prime Minister?"

    @Sinrebirth
     
  10. darthbernael

    darthbernael Jedi Knight star 4

    Registered:
    Apr 15, 2019
    OOC Enjoyable and messy combo with @greyjedi125


    IC Bernael and Manticore
    Speeding away from the hotel


    Bernael’s body continued processing both the blood and memories of Insipid’s body. Suddenly the beast in its cage that had been howling with the power coursing through his body ceased its howl and straightened, sniffing the non existent air in his mind. It smiled, a predator’s grin, already black eyes now pouring forth dark energy, ‘I can taste…..the old gods.’ It morphed from an animalistic version of himself into what looked like a suave, sleek version. ‘Let us feed.’ it said calmly.

    As he processed the alien portion he tried to study it in the short time he had, but then the third version of Insipid washed over him, familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. It was both more and less than the being he had known, and held such a depth of history and knowledge. But before he could finish processing the knowledge the euphoria of the feeding erupted, stronger and deeper than usual. He could feel an unfamiliar experience rising.

    “Hic….hic….sorry Lord….hic….” and then a flood of an almost black, deeply red, oily looking, noxious substance that smelled of blood spewed forth from his lips, spraying everything before him in a tidal wave of effluence.

    A roar of pure fury escaped Manticore, belching fire as he did so. Everything was happening so fast and not for the better. His fiery eyes remained tinged in baleful red as he held himself together through sheer force of will.

    Skywalker had done a number on the former Sith Executor. That last slash had render his left arm almost inoperative. Skywalker’s green lightsaber had penetrated deep, slicing through flesh, muscle and bone. Manticore’s left scapula, his humeral head, which is located at the shoulder, had been cleanly cleaved. His ulna at the forearm was fractured. He knew he had internal injuries as well. The zabrak’s Dark Rage was spent, yet he absolutely refused to surrender to all these adverse effects, regardless of the excruciating pain he was experiencing.

    His hate and his anger crested like solar flares, even as he pushed the speeder even faster as he drove on.

    From all the probable scenarios he’d played in his mind, this was the least likely- and yet, it was the very one that played out in the end.The Sith Emperor was dead and his Apprentice, Bernael, had become so intoxicated after consuming his Master’s ichor, that he was now physically ill because of it. The Anzat was not looking well at the moment.

    More shots from the Kuati police, who were in hot pursuit, peppered their speeding vehicle, which forced Manticore to make a sudden defensive maneuver as he barrel rolled, then speedily descended towards a populated area.

    Manticore was so furious, he was nearly beside himself, but he couldn’t let that happen. Not now, not ever again. More than anything else, he wanted to go back and snatch Leda from that thrice damnable Jedi. His only probable guess as to why his first attempt had failed, of which he was quite certain, was due to Skywalker himself.

    “SNAP OUT OF IT!!” He roared at the retching Anzat.

    As the last of the bile spewed forth Bernael’s mind began producing adrenaline in enormous quantities, knowing that if it didn’t reset his body he could drop into the healing fugue at any second. His mind began to clear, a small portion continued absorbing the memories of three sets of Insipids, while the rest began refocusing on the task at hand.

    “Try eating an almost God sometime, Lord. Trust me it’s not easy.” he responded, as he ripped off his mask for a second, wiping it down with the outside portion of his cloak, best he could do in the time given. His eyes, as those of his primitive side had been were completely black, darkness pouring forth from them.

    Turning he stretched out his mind and hand, borrowing from the immense store of energy and power he’d just absorbed, a lance of almost pure Force energy washed out in an arc, swallowing the police force’s bolts as it swept forth then washed over the pursuing speeders in a wave of pure power.

    “That damnable Skywalker, need to make sure Leda gets out of there before we get somewhere to regroup, and soon, I’m not sure, after that feeding, how much longer I can hold off the regeneration and absorption of a feeding sleep that’s looming over me and i’d rather not do so with him around!”

    The moment he saw that Bernael was back to his senses, Manticore whipped the speeder into a tight loop. He’d had enough!!! He was beginning to feel spasm of fatigue, despite the somatic control he was exerting over his own body. Likewise, Bernael informed of a ‘forced sleep’ he would have to undertake in due time.

    Time, it seemed, was against them -yet again.

    “Abyss take you all.”

    He came to realize, somewhat belatedly, that perhaps no one feared the Sith because of Skywalker. Well, it was past time for that very specific lesson to be taught.

    “DRIVE!” He commanded to Bernael at the height of the loop, even as he ignited his crimson lightsaber and leapt out of the speeder. The dauntless zabrak, injured as he was, aimed himself at the last police speeder in pursuit, shielding himself from their shots while in mid-air as well as deflecting. Tactically, the majority of the police speeders were not in a position to fire on him for the moment.

    Manticore was way past gesturing while commanding the Force, though he did angle his chin as he growled furiously. First, through an exertion of telekinetic Force power, he snatched the human sniper from his perch on the speeder- then sent him tumbling to his death, even as he landed vehemently upon the vehicle a split second later, spearing his lightsaber through the droids ‘brain’; the very act was mercilessly enhanced by the force.

    Manticore did not wait, but bounced off, still utilizing momentum and rebound energy to aim himself at the nearest incoming vehicle, fully intent of repeating the process.

    One down, five to go.

    Two Sith filled with the darkside against half-automated vehicles. The math was simple; at least in his mind. They needed to dispatch these nuisances as quickly as possible, for Leda’s sake, and retrieve her, for the sake of the Sith.

    Bernael slid forward and took the controls of the speeder, leaving insipid’s body draped across the speeder. As Manticore leapt he gunned the throttle and shot toward the oncoming police. He saw Manticore come down on the last speeder, the destruction he wrought, and then his leap toward the next. He smiled grimly beneath his mask, the huge reservoir of power he’d just obtained coursing through him.

    The speeder raced down the street and Bernael let his legs wrap over the controls, leaving his hands free to cause mayhem. Reaching inside his cloak, he withdrew several daggers. Speeding directly towards and aimed between the two closest, he leaned back as he sped forward, letting bolts pass over his head. His arms shot out in both directions, flinging several daggers to both sides, igniting them with the Force. To the right, only one of the three he’d thrown truly mattered. The other two hit their targets, of course, one to the chest of the human and one to the main sensor of the droid but the third found the fuel tank and, once penetrated, ignited the fumes inside and blew the speeder even further to the right and into the path of the outermost speeder.

    To the left, he only managed to disable the gun arm of the human and embed a dagger deep into the main torso of the droid, causing damage to it’s drive circuitry. The speeder began a series of turns, increasing in speed, wobbling as it moved and the droids processors degraded. ‘Two down, three counting Manticore’s first, three to go.’ he thought as he whipped the speeder around and headed toward the outboard speeder that had just avoided the flaming one in its path.

    TAGS: @Sinrebirth, @QueenSabe7, @greyjedi125
     
  11. Mitth_Fisto

    Mitth_Fisto Force Ghost star 6

    Registered:
    Sep 29, 2005
    IC: Soliloquy
    Topica City, Kamino

    Although he was perfectly content to merely stay put and ride out the storm, perhaps a bit of learned behavior from being a holocron playing out in that comfort, the Prime Minister did not share that comfort. So the Kaminoans had set out to seal the levels, although honestly if the exploding floor and attack on him was any indication then sealing off sections wasn't going to accomplish as much as the other hoped.

    Better to wait and let the field do it's purpose, eat and expand. Of course they had disquiet about that as well. They had no understanding and no frame of reference, and truthfully they should be very afraid knowing a biological entity without personal weapons was able to just randomly create what equates to a slow weapon of mass destruction on a whim. Terrified even. Although they seemed to think it was a grenade it appeared, or would fail with too many bodies.

    Wait . . .actually they might have a point. Not the screaming although that might point to what he was about to expound upon. "Yes and no. If too many enter the field at a time the effects are slowed as the field kills and consumes, somewhat of a drawn out process can occur. Once that bottle neck feeds the field it will have an exponential explosion of coverage and strength." What he left unsaid was that if the field was too over taxed it would merely injure and slow those in the effect range before the spell exhausted itself. Taun We carried/dragged Shimmer with them as he moved, careful not to pull too far away not that it really mattered now. His time of promised coverage for her was nearly up and she was still battling for her mind.

    The Prime Minister decided to interject a reason to their moving beyond sealing off the levels for limited control. To see and understand their technology better and have unfettered administrative access. Not to mention a free demonstration of that access . .now there was something he gladly would move forward to and for.

    Sure enough, there was that very aforementioned horde.

    Taun We begged for diversion and staving effort. Citing this as a sign of coordination. Could be, could not be. After all pack mentality was a hard thing to avoid, add the Force and same bodies. . .wait. Same bodies, genetic memories. . .genetic proclivities?

    "Time to test a hypothesis." He simply stated as he used the Force to lift Shimmer off the ground raise her high into the air, still writhing in pain. "If you love her, submit and walk slowly forward. Your lives energies will be given to save hers!" He loudly stated, pushing that thought as well as the echoing words into the Force. Then he did something he felt he had desperate curiosity to do. With one foot firmly in the world about him he dipped a toe into the mind of his apprentice. 'Shimmer? Shimmer? Fight, reverse the binding of this thing. Show me the links, and I will help you break them - or use them against them if you have the strength.' Gently he drew upon the Force and pushed a little into her, inflating her with false strength and perhaps hope as it would fade. Quickly.

    TAG: @Sinrebirth
     
  12. QueenSabe7

    QueenSabe7 RPF Awards Host star 6 VIP - Game Host

    Registered:
    Mar 23, 2001
    IC: Leda
    Hotel Plaza, Kuat

    There had been a wisp of a tug at her side that Leda, so heavy in her concentration, was able to resist with barely a stumble. She allowed a glance in the direction the Force pulled her eyes, showing her Bernael’s position at last though that was only because he was on the move. As was Manticore.

    As was the Emperor’s headless corpse.

    All three were launched into a passing speeder and then they were gone, zooming off down the avenue and lost to her sight in the lanes of traffic overhead. With a growl she paid their abandonment no mind, knowing her training and knowing her duty was to stay and fight. For Insipid. She must seek revenge in the name of her leader, even if it meant her death alongside his. It was an automatic response that did not allow for any alternatives.

    They had stopped firing; the lovers. Drawn back to their perch several stories up, Leda could sense the fear growing between the two of them, both for themselves and for the other. How sweet, she raged, bolstered on by the new cracks and breaks in the hotel exterior that she was creating with her outstretched fingers. Like conducting a macabre symphony, with each flick of her wrist or twist of a thumb, new music sounded out in ear-splitting roars as the duracrete bent under her pressure until the entire section of the outer wall broke away from the support beam and began to fall.

    Exalted, she tipped her head back to watch the bodies of the man and woman lose their footing, coming out into the open plaza like the pieces of the establishment that fell along with them.

    Picking up on a specific surge of attention aimed at her, her joy was short-lived as the lovers decent was slowed unnaturally. Only made possible with a certain brand of help

    “Surrender, or else die,” the bastard threatened her from behind. Leda turned and regarded him like a bug she wished to smash beneath her boot. Outmatched and overpowered, still she was Sith and therefor no coward. She knew he had been engaged in a most strenuous fight and he appeared to be missing a hand on the arm he held aloft to keep his companions from falling to their deaths, his left pointing an emerald blade at her. Perhaps he was worn just enough that she could get him to drop his hold...

    Tipping her chin down, her yellow-green eyes now melted into the amber hue of darkness, her stare bore into him as she had a moment to contemplate dying here and now.

    It did not phase her.

    An opportune piece of a balcony tore away from its moorings and started its journey downwards only to be redirected by Leda’s will. Having to use both hands, she deactivated her saber and thrust the Force around the projectile like a lasso, then whipped the tangle of metal at where the man was concentrating on keeping his friends from face-planting onto the plaza ground still several stories below.

    TAGS: @Sinrebirth ( @greyjedi125 @darthbernael )
     
  13. Silvertough

    Silvertough Jedi Knight star 2

    Registered:
    Aug 19, 2018
    IC: Azeth Drost
    Tipoca City - Annihilation

    Drost's eyebrow twitched involuntarily. So the clone does know of me.. Blast! There goes that plan.. He thought, almost bouncing on his back heel, the all too familiar rush of adrenaline that accompanied combat beginning to take hold. Well, winging it hasn't failed me so far..

    Drost tilted his chin back towards True-Kronos, contemplating on his words, all the while slowly retrieving a programming spike from a hidden back pocket. "I may not have been apart of Insipid's little gang of Sith for long, but I do know of one thing." He leaned closer to the hologram, obscuring his off-hand from view as it moved towards the room's central terminal, programming spike aimed towards an open port. "Insipid seems to have plans for each and every eventuality, no matter how absurd. I am not aware of who this Luke Skywalker is, or the importance of his actions, but I'm sure Insipid would have had some sort of extravagant plan set in motion to counter it.."


    Drost paused, the frenzied banging coming from outside the room getting louder by the minute. It would appear as if they were set to claw their way inside, ignoring what damage such actions may do to themselves in the process... Using the noise as further cover, and with a touch of some sleight of hand, Drost inputted the programming spike into the central terminal. If he had done his homework correctly, the spike would break through any system defenses within a few minutes, hopefully giving him some form of access to Tipoca City's data storage. Or in the very least, their physical location.


    He shrugged disarmingly, ignoring the hologram's attempted insult. "But hey, say Insipid didn't, and he's now dead. That's good news for me. This world will implode in on itself, all the while I escape out into the galaxy, free to explore to my bitter heart's content." He focused back on the door, which had begun to slowly but surely open, a twitching hand now thrusting into the room. "Tell me hologram, if Insipid is dead, why would I trade one meddlesome schemer for another?"

    The door bent inwards another inch, allowing more of a frenzied clone to push itself closer.

    "Cocytus'll probably sink the city if he felt there wasn't another option.." A pause. "No on second thought, he may have come here to do that in the first place.. I've never been able to get a good read on the guy.." His commlink chimed once in his ear, signaling the programming spike had been successful, and was now downloading something onto his datapad.

    The door creaked open even further, now allowing almost the full body of a clone to enter, save for its waist. He would have only a few more seconds..

    "Frankly.. " Drost reached out with his open hand, yanking open the bent door with a surge of the force, the clones now toppling helplessly forwards into the room. "I think I may forge my own path for once.." He trailed off, gripping his lightsaber overhead on both hands, the closest clone leaping towards him.

    Fist met blade, and with a series of quick downward slashes, the first clone fell to a heap by his feet, joined shortly thereafter by its freshly amputated limbs and head. Drost exhaled, his face draining of emotion as he re-adopted his opening stance, the final three clones charging together as one.

    The first came at him with an improvised weapon-a club of sorts, fashioned from a now surely ruined bit of furniture. The second and third came from his flanks, seeking to overwhelm him with attacks from all angles. For one without the force, a generally favorable plan, even with ignoring the irregular screeches and wails of insanity which erupted from each of their maws at random intervals.

    Unfortunately..

    Drost spun on the balls of his feet, using the momentum gained to slide effortlessly out of the way of the first attack. At the end of the rotation, a booted heel surged sideways, catching one of the flanking clones just below the rib-cage, sending it crashing into a nearby wall. With a force-assisted open palm, Drost redirected the club's trajectory sideways, the blunt object impacting with a sickening crunch into the opposing flanking clone's long neck.

    Drost inhaled. His flanks were cleared. And from the odd shape the flanking clone's neck seemed to bend these days, at least one more was dead. Which left..

    The Kaminoan with the club tried to attack in a similar manner again, but was cut short. With a quick thrust, Drost's crimson blade had found a new home within the clone's skull.

    A sigh, and he extinguished his blade, taking a brief moment to bask in the adrenaline which coursed through his veins. Was the little maneuver he pulled a tad excessive? Probably. Did it feel good? yeah..

    Drost tilted his head back towards the hologram,a goofy smile on his face. "Whelp, I 'spose it's time for me to be off then. I'm sure I'll be hearing from you again soon..." His commlink chimed again, signaling the download had completed. Drost clenched his hand into a closed fist, crushing the programming spike inside the terminal through the force. With a final wave, Drost turned and simply ran, straight through the twisted frame of the door he had entered from.


    He had almost made it to the end of the hallway before a single thought surfaced from within. Seeing as it was a good a time as any, he poked his head back into the hologram's room. "Oh, before I forget! You need to update your information! Azeth Drost died back on Bedlam!" He pointed at his chest, his prior grin shifting somewhat, replaced by a curious inner determination which he made no attempt to shield. "MY name, is Vyatoris."

    His little spiel over, Vyatoris turned and ran, his end goal being the landing pad the group's ship had docked..

    Tag: @Sinrebirth , @Darth Cocytus (mentioned briefly)
     
  14. DarthIshyZ

    DarthIshyZ Chosen One star 7

    Registered:
    Jan 8, 2005
    IC: Renn, Bo and Serapis
    Aboard the damaged Hapan Battle Dragon

    The raid of the Hapan Battle Dragon had begun! The race was on as each member of the group took their own way to the Command Deck. Helinith and Bo were in separate lifts, Renn was "slithering" through the guts of the ship and Serapis was outside the ship, taking advantage of his droid prison. Who would make it to the Command Deck first?

    The next few seconds seemed to stretch out in slow motion. The Vizier heard the shots make contact with the deck but it seemed as though there was plenty of time to take in what was happening and yet he found himself standing in the shattered turbo lift as if everything were normal.

    BOOM

    The Vizier was startled into action as the shards of glass on the elevator floor all flew with rapid and deadly speed to the brand new hole in the deck.

    Bo was battered with the extremely unpleasant sensation of the breath in his lungs being sucked right out of him. He had just managed to reach back and grab his staff as he was pulled off his feet. In the nick of time he squeezed the button to extend it. The two sides of the weapon shot out and braced themselves against the elevator doorframe - the Vizier helplessly holding on for dear life as the pull into the dark void of space grew stronger and stronger. He had no idea how long this would hold.

    Renn felt the shuddering begin as the bolts began to smack into the ship. ‘Frack it! This captain is a Grade A moron for completely disabling his ship.’ He thought even as he expanded himself as much as possible, jamming himself into the engineering conduits like a plug as the vacuum began tugging at him. Closing off his hide, his bark, and the capillaries there as they passed by blown open sections, he moved like a massive inchworm, as quickly as possible through the conduits. He sped up as he saw the next section hatch begin to close.

    Flattening out as he dove through it, to make it through the tightening space, he yanked hard against the vacuum to get the last bits of his body through before the hatch slammed shut, ‘Thank goodness for compartmentalized hatches in these ships or I’d be a tree popsicle right now.’ he thought. Moving faster now, he was almost to the bridge area. ‘Hmmm, why come through the corridors, that I’m sure are buried in Hapan troops, when I can have some real fun.’ he thought again, a huge grin crossing his face as he began moving once more, trying to get there first.

    The blast from the other ship knocked Serapis loose. Floating. In the vastness of space. Away from the safety of the ship. He was tumbling head over heels away, unable to reattach himself. His consciousness panicked, even if his body could not. The battle dragon was just a few meters away at this point, but it might as well be a kilometer. He was drifting further because of the air pressure released from the hole in the hull. He needed to come up with a solution... fast.

    Debris was all around him, too. That afforded a potential solution. He grabbed onto a larger piece and jumped off of that toward the ship. That slowed his drift away. Grabbing onto piece after piece, he started getting closer. As he got better at this hopscotch he was doing, he started using it to get himself closer and closer. At last he was close enough that he used the magnetic feet again and with a *CLOMP* was reattached. He was also now within a few hundred steps of his goal - the airlock near the bridge.

    He started to sprint. This captain was a dead meatbag.

    Bo, caught in a tug of war between the force of the pull of the split-open hull and his staff that remained (for the time being) braced between the door frame of the turbo lift, called out all manor of curses.

    This was bad.

    Who knew if the other’s had survived the ambush or if they were now lost in space.

    As the Vizier attempted to pull himself forward, having to expect even more energy than he thought, his heart sank a little bit when he heard a terrible creaking sounds that turned swiftly into a cracking sound... and there was no mistaking that it was coming from the very fibres of his staff.

    Bo tried to remain calm, tried to keep still until the perfect moment - the last moment...

    When the pull of deep space through. the ship’s wound finally overwhelmed the broken staff, it split and shattered into a hundred pieces. Bo propelled himself into the elevator. He knew for a fact he’d just tapped into it; tapped into what had always been there dangling just out of his reach.

    The Force.

    The Dark Side.

    But he wasn’t out of the woods yet. Now bracing his back against a portion of the doors that was still in tact, he kicked at the call ascension button with his boot.

    The storm in the opened deck raged on.

    Just as Renn finished his thought about sailing through the engineering conduits the one just before him, second to last one before the bridge, slammed shut. ‘Frack it, spoke too soon!’ he thought. He stopped before a hatch leading to a corridor below. Below him he could see the corridor itself, packed almost wall to wall with Hapan troops just waiting for one of them to come through. ‘Ok, they want to play it the hard way.’

    Several moments later, the mass of troops heard a creak then the sound of ripping metal. The more astute ones began diving out of the way of the overhead hatch to the engineering conduit that ran the length of the corridor. And then the hatch, came flying off it's hinges and careened off the deck, bouncing and smashing into any bodies that weren’t fast enough to get out of the way.

    It continued bouncing for several long moments, leaving crushed and maimed bodies in its wake. As it settled and the quiet, broken only by the moans of the wounded, reigned a roar that shook the bulkhead emanated from the darkness beyond the ripped open conduit. What followed the roar could only vaguely be described as humanoid by those that managed, most by burying themselves under the corpses of their comrades, to survive. Those that remembered most would be committed to mental wards based on their descriptions of something 15 feet tall, fangs as long as a forearm, silver white fur, and 6 arms, two of which wielded sabers, two which carried recovered blasters, and two that just used their claws to rip their comrades to shreds as it continued to roar.

    Renn had chosen the form he used based on the description of a beast others had seen, in a very secure enclosure, on a far distant world, in one of the satellite galaxies. It served well, and he could use each arm independently. So he dove out of the hatch-less conduit, landing on several Hapans, crushing them beneath his now huge pawed feet. Bounding down direction of the corridor his sabers flashed out cleaving limbs and heads from bodies, the blasters flung bodies back and forth across the corridor, his claws rended flesh from bone and bone into splinters.

    By the time he reached the far end of the corridor from the bridge he was wading through body parts, viscera, and blood to reach the hatch. The last few at that end of the corridor were cowering against the hatch their wide eyed brethren on the other side refused to open. He finished them off, arms blistered from blaster bolts that had singed them, fur smoking, slashed on most limbs from blades that had gotten too close. Turning, his golden yellow eyes sought the remaining Hapans at the far end, near the hatch that led to the last space before the bridge.

    As those he’d just finished off those troops cowered against the door, weapons in shaking hands pointed toward him. A smile revealed even more of the fangs this face wore and a deep growling voice sounded, “You boyos made a biiiigg mistake assuming four Sith was a small number.” His lower two arms reached up, he’d had enough of swinging sabers for the moment, and twisted energies reached out. Screams and pleas filled the corridor as bodies began to melt and run together. As he finished, what was left before the door, whimpering from various orifices, eyes that dotted its surface crying constant, he dragged away from the hatch, and tossed into the remains at the end of the hallway.

    Four massive paws reached up and pounded against the hatch before him. “Little pigs, little pigs let me in or I’ll huff and I’ll puff and I’ll blow your whole house in.”

    Running along the hull at full speed was easy when you were dealing with a starship. Nothing to trip on. Nothing to avoid. It was a straight shot to the bridge airlock. The fools hadn't even set any of their soldiers outside the airlock as speedbumps for the charging BX Droid. He wondered if that was wisdom or if his compatriots had killed the rest.

    He arrived at the airlock and opened the hatch. Climbing in, he cycled the air while keeping his feet mag-locked to the deck. While this worked, he took count of the beings on the other side of the inner door. They were distracted, to be sure. They were looking back and forth from the inner door to the closed blast door nearby. As the atmosphere equalized he could now hear what they did. A loud banging and scraping of the blast door. It appeared a nest of gundarks had been released on the other side.

    He also utilized the droid's mapping software to memorize the layout of the room on the other side. He noted all obstacles, walls, doors and releases. Soon he had a plan assembled. And just in time, too, as the hissing of atmosphere stopped.

    He opened the inner door and immediately put his plan into place, taking out soldier after soldier. Some he blasted with his "acquired" blaster. Some he simply crushed against a wall or the floor. There had to be a dozen of this cannon fodder waiting for him. Meanwhile the clanging on the other side of the blast door continued.

    When he had the area outside the bridge completely cleared, he pressed the hatch release for the blast door. It opened to reveal a being that could only be the shape-shifter. He glanced at the hideous visage and laughed his droid laugh. "Why didn't you just knock?" he joked. Then he jolted to a realization. "Where's Bo and Helinith?"

    The Vizier, far enough into his elevator ride to no longer feel the effects of the explosion, winced at the pulled muscle in his shoulder.

    He checked that he’d hit the right button - the one that would take him to the bridge - and tugged and pushed hard at the dislocated joint at the top of his arm, popping it back into place. He let out a grunt of relief and unholstered his blaster as the turbo lift approached it’s destination.

    The doors did not part because there were no doors. Bo stepped out into a well lit corridor. He passed two armed Hapan guards but managed to ambush and dispatch them with minimal fuss.

    As he rounded a corner a young woman, slight of frame with bright auburn hair, gasped and tried to backtrack.

    “Stop!”

    She continued her retreat, holding her data pad close to her chin as she marched. Bo caught up and grabbed her by the shoulder. He spun her around and pointed his blaster at her temple, not in the mood for any more delays.

    “Take me to the bridge at once.”

    Renn heard a noise and now the terrified faces on the other side of the hatch were darting back and forth, as though there was something new to be scared of. ‘We’re supposed to turn these to support us?’ he thought. To keep up a distraction, as he could sense a small thread of a familiar presence beyond the door, he continued banging on the hatch, keeping the Hapan focus in more than one spot.

    Eventually it grew quiet on the other side of the hatch and then it opened to reveal the droid body of Serapis. Renn laughed, in this body a deep, grunting, sounding cough. “I was knocking, but they didn’t want to answer the door!” he paused, “Wait, the lifts, vacuum, crap, little Craziness better not have gotten sucked out into space, I’d never forgive her if she did. And if something truly happened to her….” the grin that crossed his face, his current face, was naught but fang, “the Captain will regret every being coming out of the birth canal. As to Golden Boy, that armor of his would get stuck in any hole put in the ship so he’s got to be around here somewhere.”


    Renn shifted back into something a bit more comfortable, in his mind, and moved toward the hatch to the bridge. “Whether our companions make it here in time or not, we need to finish this, and show the Hapans that, no matter how many Sith they face, fighting us is a losing proposition.”

    Bo had thought he would need the woman’s keycard or something to get him through the blast doors but it appeared there was no need. The doors were open and two of his comrades were already there.

    Bo gave them a nod, wiping a sheet of sweat from his forehead.

    He shoved the poor harassed woman forward, set his blaster for stun and let her have it, sending her to the floor with an unceremonious clatter, a broken data pad, and probably the best sleep of her life.

    Serapis was somewhat satisfied. We could take the bridge and find Helinith later. He still wondered where she was, though. As Renn started toward the bridge, proper, Bo walked up sweating. "That sweat is one thing I don't miss about having a body. Let's go." And with that he turned to follow Renn. "Renn, I hope you have a plan."

    Tags: @Sinrebirth, @darthhelinith, @darthbernael, @Snokers
     
  15. Sinrebirth

    Sinrebirth Immortal Mod-King of the EUC, Lit, RPF and SWC star 8 Staff Member Manager

    Registered:
    Nov 15, 2004
    IC: Ike
    Aboard the Dark Dreamer, and then, not

    “Go now and change into the gods damned outfits, all of you,” he roared, eyes flashing yellow. “Or don’t. If you’ve no intention of helping, I’ll simply find Hel myself and you can all do as you will. She deserves better. She saved us all on New Moraband, or have you forgotten?” One of the nearby fighters caved in on itself so violently that it hung in midair for a moment before crashing to the hangar floor, engine oozing fuel as it collapsed into a heap of twisted ruin. He turned to board the shuttle that would take them, or him, into the city, and stalked up the unfurled ramp to finish pre-flight checks.

    Ike blinked. Oh so Plo was gone again, and there was Darth Haretisch.

    Syren snapped back, but headed off to change, while Ike simply rolled his eyes and stripped where he stood. Modesty was overrated when speed was required. A quick shift and he was suitably attired, rakishly twirling some cuffs. They weren't fluffy, not these ones. He even had his trusty whip to hand, because he'd need that, after all.

    Ike regarded the leather instrument, and felt the need to adopt some more idiosyncacies to pad out his character.

    "The name is Lord Chall, you are welcome to obey me... or greet Babs." He snapped the whip on the floor, leaving a crease. "Babs is not the friendliest of sorts." He adopted a drawl of sorts, back from the southern lands of his homeworld. Ike frowned. Homeworld? He remembered his homeworld?

    Shaking his head, he got back into character and strode to wherever he was supposed to. "Um, Mr Plo," he wondered, "Should I take another ship down, or just sneak off later? And whats my limit? The auction house won't check that I've transferred the credits to you, but won't they charge a, waddayacallit (more drawl), agents fee?"

    He wasn't one for specifics, but he knew money, as Bell had drummed it into him a dozen times or more when he had been Vizier of Twilight Sun. "Or, if I don't need to worry about it, I won't, but I need alcohol money. Lord Chall likes alcohol, and he buys stuff when he's drunk." Ike fluttered his eyelids at Plo.

    Anark he didn't pay too much attention to, but he hadn't even interacted with him, either, not especially directly, even when he had been Insipid's formal apprentice. No, Ike had interacted with his secret apprentice, Bellorum herself.

    TAG: @Darth_wanderguard, @QueenSabe7, @Snokers, @Lady Belligerent
     
  16. Sinrebirth

    Sinrebirth Immortal Mod-King of the EUC, Lit, RPF and SWC star 8 Staff Member Manager

    Registered:
    Nov 15, 2004
    IC: Captain Tarsul
    Hapan Battle Dragon Song of War, Consortium edge

    Several dozen of his human shields, ahem, crew were dead at the hands of two of the Sith, who had regrouped with the droid. Why hadn't he thought about the hull approach? They had dealt with the Sith woman, maybe, because she hadn't been seen since the other Battle Dragon opened fire. But that was one Sith down, and two and a droid left - a droid that was basically Sith.

    Shirking his helmet over his head, he shot the crew closest to him, sending the rest into a panicked rush to flee - or rush the Sith. A few dozen more deaths wouldn't hurt them.

    The doors opened to spill screaming bodies at Renn, Bo and Serapis. Having spent a bit of time attaching itself to the Dragon's mainframe, Ser@pis chimed in. Enemy has decompressed the bridge, sealed the bulkhead between the outer and inner segments. I have reports of the viewport being shot apart, which means...

    Sure enough, the way that Serapis had entered the area suddenly had a jetpack-wielding Captain Tarsul rocketing through, clearly seeking to force an end to the engagement. He slammed into Bo, sending it flying into a side room, which a handful of crew member rushed into, and as vacuum rushed into the area, Bo was suddenly cut-off from Renn and Serapis as two grenades detonated; one flame; one ion, even as Tarsul shot out of the body and gore filled area, even as bulkheads sealed the two of them in the room, even as Tarsul rocketed up to the ceiling and attached himself to it with his magnetic boots, pointing his pistols down at them and firing.

    It happened in a flash, and they had a lot to respond to in a short time.

    Sensors, however, if they had been paying attention to such things aboard the Song of War, would have noticed that something large was coming out of hyperspace. Forewarned, the other ships of the task force were retreating, withdrawing in the face of their Queen Mothers ire.

    Ni'Korish was coming.

    TAG: @Snokers (sole reply), @DarthIshyZ, @darthbernael (combo with Sinre, you two), @darthhelinith (spinning).

    ---
    IC: True Kronos
    Watching, spurned, annoyed, maddened

    'Vytorias' cut apart the clones with aplomb, and True Kronos sniffed with irritation. The data upload was about 23% complete. He'd need another hour to complete it, but he was trying to steal whole genomes of data; the largest lump of data one could try to steal, unless it was moon-sized battlestations, of course.

    Fleeing back towards the landing pad would see the Miraluka avoid the direct corridor which was currently besieged by a flood of clones, but when he reached the ship he would find that half a dozen had managed to reach the ship in advance and some Kaminoan's had broken in and were hiding in the sealed ship, which was about to slide off the edge of the platform -

    Four of the clone-mutants turned and threw themselves at Vytorias the moment the doors to the rain-slicked area opened.

    ---
    Said main hallway of Doom

    Shimmer wailed, feeling the pressure and presence of Lord Soliloquy pushing through her. She resisted, not as much as herself but also her programming, which incited her to feel as if this was a grave violation, co-opting the parts of her brain which were fighting back the programming itself -

    But Soliloquy had followed his instincts and soundly found it; a bacteria was the source of the programming, keyed to attach to various lobes of the subject clone, and then it attached the same to an overwhelming central mind; a Gravemind, if you would. It was the kind of mad scientist trick that was relatively beyond Koa Ne, and probably even the True Kronos blighting their day...

    ... but it spoke back.

    Blood Mind knows you.

    Black ichor consumed Soliloquy's mind-space, and he would be confronted with an old foe.

    Lied to us again, Holocron.

    A dark rueful unpleasantness filtered through the connection Soliloquy had sought; he had given it a way in.

    Mnngal-Mnngal remembers; now you die.

    The death-field dropped, not of Soliloquy's volition; indeed, his body lost shape and became shapeless as his will was detached from it... though half his face remained shaped as he had willed, for it was only in the moment of surprise that Soliloquy would lose grasp of what he had...

    ... and of course the Horde approached, baying, tripping over the bodies of the fallen for but a moment.

    But in the mind, a moment was an eternity, so Soliloquy had time to fight back...

    For now.

    ---
    Prime Ministers chambers

    "I am afraid that the entire city is compromised, Prime Minister." Darth Cocytus said in cold calmness, "These Kronos clones don't just pose a threat to the rest of Kamino, but the wider Galaxy, and most importantly, the interests of the Sith. I suggest we find a way to send Topica City to the Ocean depths, ending the scourge of insane Force Sensitive clones before they get any further out of hand..."

    And maybe send Soliloquy and the others into Oblivion with them. He noted to Sidious with a thin and barely noticable smile.

    Cocytus approached the Prime Minister, staring into his eyes as he towered over him in presentation of his power. "Surely there are codes or hot wiring for such a thing. Protocols should the abominations you create become too much to contain. Are there, Prime Minister?"

    Lama Su looked to Darth Styx, or, to him, Faya Ne. "I've tried them as we ran this way, Lord Cocytus."

    The Prime Minister nodded. "You're right, of course. Tipoca City will be a blow, but we have other cities, and I will transfer the capital to Timira City. The Kaminoans in the lower levels can evacuate into the sea, either way. The aberrant clones must be destroyed, before they spread." He began to speak into his comlink, conveying orders to blow the struts that held up the City; long had the Kaminoan Cities stood above a rising sea floor, which had consumed all landmasses; their genetic prowess had enabled them to jump-start their evolution and handily adapt.

    Now it was time to make Tipoca City sink.

    Darth Styx stepped beside her master. "My lord," she whispered into his hearing membranes. "My mother kept codes to herself, and told them different ones, knowing her. We could locate those codes in her offices, of course... she would have kept a record... I do know her passwords, but it depends if you intend to betray your colleagues..."

    She smiled, almost knowingly. "It is a Rule of Two, no? Not of however many Sith your present Dark Lord claims to allow?"

    "I hope I prove worthy of your teachings, my lord."

    The Sidious AI cackled to itself.

    In a matter of minutes the City would descend... and Cocytus would be fine; he could breath. The doors began to vibrate with the beatings the mad-clones inflicted upon them. There was a window out of the office, of course, and Lama Su looked to it as he spoke in the comlink.

    "But I might ask, my Lord. Do we need Prime Minister Su? If we take charge of the recovery after Tipoca City falls, we could simply become the leaders of Kamino... we are far from the New Republic, after all."

    More temptations...

    Su looked back to them. "We have five minutes until the City falls." He indicated the window, trying not to look at the rapidly bowing doors, and the jangle of bloody limbs forcing their way through in-spite of the jagged edges ripping at sinew and bone. "If you would, Lord Cocytus?"

    ---
    In Koa Ne's office

    There they were; Kronos and Esmerelda...

    ... peering over data-files which confirmed their worst nightmares were true.

    The final fate of their twin children.

    TAG: @Silvertough, @Mitth_Fisto, @Darth Cocytus, @Darth Kronos
    ---
    IC: Luke Skywalker (and Narrator)

    Plaza, Kuat Hotel

    The balcony slingshot in the Force, and Luke barely had time to notice before he crashed into his hastily erected Force barrier; he was propelled away, through the sole remaining part of the fence, and rolled up, bloodied, battered, and bruised, in time to reach out and catch the free-falling Leia and Han and indeed hold the building firm. "Merciless," Luke breathed, drained by the effort of keeping up this level of fight.

    Armed response had circled the hotel from a distance and now a larger group was advancing, some four dozen well-equipped troops. From other exits, dozens of innocents fled, screaming, herded out and away from the fight and definitely to avoid the plaza entrance. Senator Apollin was among them, the Kuati already interviewing reporters at a 'safe distance' from the fighting. Had any of the Sith/'Acolytes of the Beyond' been relatively nearby, say, in the plaza, they would have recognised his presence, blurred though it was.

    Leia and Han had their blasters out even as they fell, lining up for a shot. They weren't far from the ground now, and Leia took the opportunity to apply her ill-directed but powerful Force skills to yank at Leda's lightsaber; even as Han shot at her, his typical precision shots ringing out. When they hit the ground, Luke would be able to release them and launch into the fray.

    Leda would feel an otherworldly presence whisper in her ear. Insipid's voice.

    Run, Leda! Run!

    It was very Obi-Wan Kenobi to Luke Skywalker aboard the first Death Star, but neither Insipid nor Leda had been present when that happened, so the completely ironic moment would pass them by. A shame, really.

    Her escape route was not clear; there were more variables than certainties, and she would only peripherally sense her comrades, getting further away... and then there was a green streak from the sky and an explosion wherever they were, or had been...

    In the chaos and panic that consumed Kuat City, she would be unable to sense the others.

    It was just Leda, her vague sense of the Senator, who even now was rushing to a speeder limo, and of course the trio; Luke, Leia and Han...

    ... and however many armed officers were settling into a semi-circle, expectantly; someone had a plan for her, the Force panged with warning.

    ---
    On the run, Grand Theft Speeder

    Vomiting Anzati aside, Manticore had taken charge of the situation and he and Bernael were partaking in the greatest of cinematic pleasures; a good old fashion speeder chase. There were explosions, dramatic turns, impossible flips, lacking the ample stunt doubles as the two went Action Hero on the cast. Well, we'd already had a superhero landing, climatic anime fight, and indeed shameless homage, so why not?

    Three speeders were down in impressive fashion, but their speeder had taken a jangle of hits and indeed the Anzati and Zabrak's comedown would commence soon; as much as drawing on the Force could sustain you, it could also burn you alive... Manticore was closer than Bernael, but Bernael had chewed through reserves of souls instead of his own flesh.

    But what they had done was cause a reassessment of matters; the three speeders dropped back, far back, further than Manticore had leapt before - various droid processors allowed them to work that out - and then the Force jangled with warning half-a-second before a metres-thick green turbolaser bolt slammed into the ground in-front of them, sending an immense shockwave outward.

    Kuat built warships, usually Imperial ones.

    Of course one was in orbit above the capital city.

    Of course someone thought it appropriate to use a weapon like that on a speeder chase going very, very wrong.

    It had fired, and the speeder would flip, and where Bernael and Manticore would end up dropped in the middle of the residential area - in the middle of dozens of terrified civilians and so forth. Screaming TIEs descended from orbit, and in a very Imperial methodical decision, the orbiting Kuati Admiral decided that a few hundred low-class citizens was worth it.

    Wherever they landed, whether together or apart, they had dozens of people to hide among...

    ... but an indiscriminate foe pursuing them.

    What Bernael and Manticore wouldn't know was that the New Republic diplomatic team had a MC85 cruiser in-orbit - three kilometers of Mon Calamari technology, nearly twice the size of any Imperial ship in the present Kuati armory; though the prototype Resurgent would equal such a ship when the First Order started mass-production... and of course the Kuati didn't have any highly illegal and impossible to hide Super Star Destroyers to hand.

    So in a matter of minutes the Kuati would be severely reprimanded at gunpoint and be forced to call off the attack on their own populace or be blown out of the sky. X-wings and A-wings were already launching, as a matter of fact.

    But between now and then...

    TIE fighters would be making their runs, shredding the buildings and houses and shops and schools with laser fire as they swept across the area. Indeed, they would be searching out the signal from the speeder that had been stolen by the two dark side terrorists, as the media was labelling them.

    Not quite checkmate, but someone was having one hell of a go at it.

    It was not a matter of Sith victory now, but Sith survival.

    TAG: @QueenSabe7, @darthbernael, @greyjedi125
     
  17. Darth Cocytus

    Darth Cocytus Jedi Master star 3

    Registered:
    May 8, 2016
    Darth Cocytus

    Cocytus smiled slily as Prime Minister began to give the orders to sink Tipoca City, finally feeling complete control of the moment at hand. The Sith Kaminoan never saw himself as a long term planner, no matter how patient he has tried to be. However, there was nothing that he could spot more than the perfect opportunity to take advantage of situations such as this one. “Very good, Prime Minister.” Cocytus crackled slightly clutching a raised fist, “There will be no escape for these abominations as they drown in the ocean depths.”

    He then glanced at Lady Styx and gave her a devious smile at her mentioning of betraying Soliloquy and the others. Darth Cocytus was already becoming very proud of his apprentice. She clearly had the aptitude of quick learner and was already offering opportunities to help carry out the interests of her Order. “Treachery is what the Sith Order is all about, Lady Styx.” Cocytus said coolly, “I have... ‘foreseen’ the mission I was sent here for to become a complete failure. That we would be set up by Insipid to be disposed of. I fully intended to take advantage of that to dispose of my rivals. We shall use this codes you speak of to their utmost potential.”

    Cocytus then looked back at Lama Su when Styx suggested getting rid of him and stroked his chin in amusement at the suggestion. “I was never one who held much interest in the squabble of the politics of ordinary beings.”he said calmly and quietly, “Not when there’s the Power of the Dark Side and the duties of the Sith Order to focus on. I propose replacing our friend here with a much more… reliable Prime Minister to carry out our interests… and to plant the seeds of a Sith Ruled Kaminaon Empire to overthrow the New Republic and Inspid's band of mewling Dark Jedi.”

    A cruel smirk grew on Darth Cocytus’s face, liking the sound of all that he spoke of. An Empire with Kamino as it’s Capital and an army of clones to wage war against, Insipid, the Jedi and the New Republic. The plans of the Palpatine AI may vey well be carried out yet. A Second Clone War, a New Galatic Empire. Darth Bane's legacy will once again come to full fruition, finally and completely, with no Jedi or pesky chosen one to stand in their way and undo it all.

    Cocytus nodded at Lama Su and proceed to follow him out the window. “Come, Lady Styx. There is much to do…”

    @Sinrebirth.
     
  18. greyjedi125

    greyjedi125 Force Ghost star 5

    Registered:
    Apr 29, 2002
    IC: Lord Manticore
    Big Trouble in Kuat

    He’d leapt towards the next police speeder and missed. That’s because they were no longer giving chase and had suddenly changed their tactics. The speeder moved away, quickly increasing the distance between them.

    Manticore readjusted his trajectory and landed hard, his breathing already labored, his vision blurring. Before he could even negotiate his next attack, the darkside of the Force blared a warning.

    Move!

    The Sith Lord was caught in the middle of an evasive leap, his hastily formed shield likely the only thing to save him from getting blown to bits by the tremendous green explosion that sent him careening through the air, and landing unceremoniously many, many meters away.

    The zabrak groaned in pain and laid still for a moment, looking up to the sky, his yellowed eyes squinting.

    Turbolaser fire?

    Emperor Insipid was dead. There was no way to get back to Leda now. And he was in no shape to do battle any longer, not with all his injuries. Manticore growled in utter frustration, as he took a moment to ignore the growing panic from the kuati citizens around him. The mission was an absolute failure. It was a bitter admission, but one that he could not deny.

    As if to underscore their defeat, the screaming sound of approaching TIE fighters filled the air, even as they began their first pass, firing indiscriminately at shops and houses, shredding them without regard of those inside.

    That’s how desperately those in authority wished to end the ‘sith threat’. In fact, they were close to succeeding.

    Growling and breathing raggedly, Manticore forced himself to move as best he could, hobbling into a crowd of fleeing citizens. His garments were already rent and in tatters as he moved, and did his best to blend in. With a deft gesture and keen use of the force, he dismantled his lightsaber, metal components haphazardly falling to the ground, then snatched the focusing crystal. In a smooth motion, he brought the crystal to his mouth then swallowed it.

    As he cradled his left arm with his right, he did his best to keep up, but his body was now completely spent and his legs shook, hardly responding. The edges of his vision grew darker with each passing moment and no amount of fury would jolt him back to clarity.

    Above, TIE fighters continued their strafing runs, firing on the ground and adding to the chaos with every explosion. Manticore spied a set of stairs descending to a shop by an underpass and fell down upon it.

    Somehow, he’d lost Bernael during the TIE attack and general chaos. He was now alone, in this ‘other timeline’. Did the other missions meet similar ends? Was this the end of the Sith now that the Emperor was dead? Or had they been betrayed yet again?

    He could not move and darkness was beginning to claim his awareness, though he could still hear the screams of the fleeing crowds, the sound of the explosions.

    Was this what it was like for the citizens when the Sith took Coruscant?

    It was all bitter irony, yet he regretted nothing.

    “I will have my revenge, Skywalker, mark my words…..”

    It was the last thing he heard himself rasp, before his eyes closed of their own accord, and brought on unwelcome unconsciousness.


    Tag: @Sinrebirth
     
    Last edited: Nov 10, 2019
  19. Lady Belligerent

    Lady Belligerent • WNU Adoptions Coordinator• star 7 VIP - Game Host

    Registered:
    Jan 29, 2008
    GM Update by @Lady Belligerent and @Darth_wanderguard

    IC: Bellorum & Plo


    “The name is Lord Chall, you are welcome to obey me... or greet Babs,” Ike flowered his whip and left a mark on the shuttle floor. Plo was concerning himself too much with pre-flight to pay much attention as he went on about “Babs,” but tuned back in when he heard his name.

    “Should I take another ship down, or just sneak off later? And what’s my limit?” Ike asked, quite prudently. “The auction house won’t check that I’ve transferred the credits to you, but won’t they charge a waddayacallit, agents’ fee?”

    Plo thought for a second, ignoring Ike’s new accent. He certainly did know how to play a character. “I suppose I hadn’t considered that. We could always just stiff the auction house,” he thought out loud. “If they do mistakenly think we’re with the Exchange, then the real Exchange won’t be hard to find after that since I’m sure they’ll come after us for the bad name we’ll be giving them. Especially if Lord Chall doesn’t get his slaves and makes rather a loud stink about it.”

    Syren came clinking in at about that time, having apparently chosen to forego the robe in favor of putting her near-nakedness on display for all to see. It seemed a deliberate act of defiance. Plo stole a brief, uncomfortable glance and looked back to the flight console. He was decidedly less gratified about it now that his plan had been complied with - frustrating, that. Parading Syren and Bellorum around in a hutt slave getup was under his skin now in an unpleasant way. Perhaps less so in Bellorum’s case, as she used and abused others at will as part of her game. No, it almost felt right to expect this of Bellorum, but not of Syren who was as innocent as anyone of that sort of manipulative Sith nonsense that Insipid so loved. She was simply a worker, and steadfastly so, a weapon willing to maim or destroy whomever or whatever he aimed her towards. This did not befit nor become her, and Plo was quietly growing more contrite the longer he dwelled on it.

    Back in Bellorum’s quarters, she had undressed and donned the slave outfit. Since Haretisch didn’t specify footwear or accessories, she added tall black leather boots and large sapphire earrings. She stood in front of a full length mirror and inspected her reflection. “Kriff,” she muttered and grabbed a black hooded cloak, It didn’t cover everything and opened when she walked, but it was better than nothing.

    Bellorum strode up the boarding ramp with a bottle of wine in one hand, and a full glass in the other. She looked around and raised her glass to Ike, who was holding his whip, and smiled at Syren. “Fabulous outfit,” she laughed and offered her glass to the assassin.

    “Well,” Plo muttered. “We’re all here, then.” He glanced to Anark in the copilot seat and the shuttle lifted off. “New plan, courtesy of Ike,” he spoke up after the ship was airborne. “After the sale, we’re not going to pay the auction house their cut, and Ike aka Lord Chall isn’t going to get his slaves. Once he starts being loud about ‘the exchange’ ripping him off, it won’t take long for the real Exchange to come to us.”

    A short shuttle ride later, they were settling down in a small spaceport in the thick of the bazaar, and the boarding ramp unfurled as if an invitation.

    The bazaar was a writhing knot of human and alien life, mostly alien, walkways lined on both sides by stalls and carts and other little makeshift shops as far as the eye could see. It was loud and busy, but there was a sort of order and rhythm to the chaos, to the shouting of the shopkeepers, and to the movement of the people. There were smells, too, mostly from the food stalls, ranging from the delicious and sweet to the rancid and stomach-turning.

    “No one cares about us enough yet to notice us together, but we should split up quick anyway. Ike, go. Anark, you’re Lord Chall’s bodyguard. We’ll see you at the auction house.”

    The auction house was situated dead center in the massive bazaar which seemed the size of a small city all its own. It was a large squat building, painted coal black.

    “Shall we?” he asked the slaves.

    Tag: @Sinrebirth @QueenSabe7 @Snokers
     
  20. darthbernael

    darthbernael Jedi Knight star 4

    Registered:
    Apr 15, 2019
    IC Bernael
    The Gods be damned, they want to destroy their own planet to kill me, again


    As he skewed the speeder sideways, to block the oncoming police speeder, it abruptly changed course and took off in the completely opposite direction. As he saw Manticore diving away from the speeder he’d been aiming for, which had also changed course, Bernael’s senses began screaming. Without a thought to drained and unrecognizable body of Insipid, Bernael pushed off the speeders foot pedals, diving into a nearby building, trusting his senses in that moment, rather than his sight.

    That split second of movement saved his life, once more. As he rolled to his feet, raising a shield toward the street, a pure green light, almost as wide as the street touched down in front of the speeder he’d abandoned. The shockwave hit his shield, blowing him through the building he’d taken cover in, as rubble rained down around him.

    Flying through the air, impacting various pieces of building or vehicles as he was thrown, one clipped him near the missing ear and knocked him out for a time, not even waking when his body cartwheeled across the ground and came to an abrupt halt against a residence. Slowly he came back to his senses knowing the Kuati were supremely unhappy with the destruction being wrought if they were prepared to use shipkiller weapons to attack two beings.

    And then it got worse, TIE fighters screamed down from the sky, in somewhat random patterns, in the residential area he’d been thrown into. They definitely didn’t want any of them surviving. He hugged the side of a residence as he moved, his bruises, cracked bones, and missing ear beginning to ache as the adrenaline rush started to wear off. Luckily camouflaging himself wouldn’t use up more Force energy but it would tire him out. He had no choice though, his visible wounds would cause panic and direct the fighters toward him.

    Disappearing from sight, in the shadows he ducked and weaved down a street, attempting to get closer to the hotel, to see if he could see Leda, see if there was a way to assist her own escape. As he drew closer though, he could see the security cordon, the troops ringing the plaza. ‘Manticore’s disappeared and she’s surrounded by dozens of troops, not to mention the Jedi. I need to find a spot to hole up and regenerate or I’ll be no good to anyone.’

    He looked for, and found, a relatively open path, even though people were still running wildly as the fighters continued to strafe the area outside the cordon. Slowly, ducking into or under rubble they’d generated with the attack runs, as the fighters returned again and again, he made his way out of the residential area, into a nearby shopping district. Many of the shops were locked, given the time of day.

    Finally finding one unlocked, he slipped inside, but had to continue on, there was no lower, basement level, which would have offered minimal protection from the attacking TIE fighters. Several more busts, for the same reason, came and went before he found what he wanted, several miles from the plaza and the hotel. Now slowly moving, fatigue setting in, he made his way down the stairs, dropping his camouflage as he went, and looked for the quietest, least used, section of the basement.

    Moving gingerly, so as not to disturb the dust in that area, he found a narrow space behind a pallet of goods for the shop. In a small corner, behind the pallet, he tucked himself in as best he could, pulled up his hood, and extended his senses, as a tripwire, should anyone come down into the basement. Closing his eyes, ‘Heal, wake, find one of them, figure out a plan.’ And then he was out, body finally surrendering to the healing sleep.

    TAGS: @Sinrebirth, @QueenSabe7, @greyjedi125
     
  21. QueenSabe7

    QueenSabe7 RPF Awards Host star 6 VIP - Game Host

    Registered:
    Mar 23, 2001
    IC: Syren
    Bazaar, Nal Hutta

    “Fabulous outfit.”

    Syren peered to her side in the direction the compliment had come from, her eyes connecting first with a glass full to the brim with a dark red liquid. It was held out for her to take, which she did before even acknowledging the woman who offered it. “Thank you,” she said to Bellorum after eagerly taking a sip of the sweet beverage. Smacking her lips, she held it aloft in cheers. “For both.”

    Casually appraising Bellorum’s get-up as Anark initiated take-off and their shuttle rumbled on its way, she idly realized she had never had the chance to note how attractive the half-chiss woman was. Though of course, blue skin held an inexplicable allure for her, especially when it was canvasing a female body…

    The landing a short time later startled her out of her inappropriate thoughts, as did the fact that she had emptied her glass a long while earlier though she still cradled it as if prepared to continue sipping invisible contents. Setting it down on a seat, she gathered her belongings and at last wrapped the useless cloak over her shoulders to match the former Empress. Syren had already begun breathing in the buzz in the Force from the commotion of the bazaar, so coupling that with the heady warmth she was enjoying from the wine and the assassin’s nerves were practically nonexistent.

    Not that this was anything she couldn’t handle.

    “Shall we?” Plo asked her and Bellorum.

    Slouching her shoulders slightly and angling her gaze down, she quickly fell into her subservient role and nodded once, giving the impression she was cowering in fear. Perfect.

    Then she fell in line and followed along out into the crowds.

    TAGS: @Darth_wanderguard @Lady Belligerent ( @Snokers @Sinrebirth )
     
  22. Jerjerrod-Lennox

    Jerjerrod-Lennox Jedi Grand Master star 7

    Registered:
    Mar 9, 2005
    A combo with @Darth_wanderguard :)

    IC: Captain Lennox Jerod, Ami Sayul
    Location: Dark Dreamer, Nal Hutta


    First things first - Ami had gotten the eggs off the ship right away. She’d sealed the crate after setting it on the ground outside the ship, but obviously if the things hatched it wouldn’t matter, they’d get out.

    She pushed back her mousy brown hair and sat on top of one of the crates. It hadn’t been easy moving them outside herself after the security troopers scurried off, still smarting from their well-deserved dressing down. Jerod was tending his own wounds of course, and the maintenance team was already hard at work fixing the damage the ordeal had resulted in, leaving Ami - all one hundred and ten pounds of her - to move the crates without help. She hadn’t minded. She wasn’t one to shy away from hard work, only she had grown unaccustomed to it now in the past several months.

    She glanced down at her chrono, wondering after Jerod and when he would be showing up.

    Lennox meanwhile had made his way to the medbay, unfortunately dripping some blood on the floor from his bleeding bicep. He was still aching from his previous fight on Nar Shadda despite the rest and having more cuts and bruises to add to his collection didn't help.

    The medbay was empty thanks to the Doctor being off the ship so Jerod had to rummage around and see what he could find and do. The wounds on his back would have to wait until the Doctor got back so it was the wounds on his arms he would have to focus on. Thankfully Azzurri had dropped off one of his spare uniforms too.

    After cleaning and stitching his wounds (which took him a little while as he was not properly medically trained) he then bandaged his bicep wound and flexed it. It would hurt for a while and hopefully it wouldn't affect him if he had to use his blaster. Perhaps this time he would have to go a little bit more armed, especially if things got physical. He couldn't just rely on his martial arts skills here….

    After getting changed into Azzurri's uniform (which actually fit him nicely) he made a quick stop at the armory. Grabbing a couple of spare blaster packs, a vibroblade in each boot and even a couple of batons which took his fancy, he strapped one on each hip. He was on an outlaw world, it didn't hurt to be tooled up.

    He made his way down to the cargo bay and nodded at the maintenance team as they were working. He greeted Ami with a smile his bright green eyes sparkling "So Miss Sayul, how do you propose getting these to town?. We could carry one each I suppose but I hope perhaps you have an easier idea".

    “Uhm,” she looked around, still sitting atop the crate. “Well, there’s a hover dolly in the cargo bay that I forgot about. I was... kind of in a rush to get these things off the ship I guess.” She wiped her sweat, feeling a little stupid for having overlooked the hand-truck previously. She wasn’t used to physical labor, or nearly as used to life-threatening mishaps as she should have been now after having so many of them.

    She went to get it, and once the crates were loaded she looked out at the horizon to the rundown cityscape in the near distance. “We shouldn’t have to walk too far to find a taxi,”she thought out loud. “There has to be some kind of trading district or bazaar where we can offload these things. Unless you have a different idea.”

    Jerod still kept the smile on his face, only to try and reassure Ami that he wasn't going to yell at her. The security men needed a dressing down after basically freezing in place, Lennox supposed that he had been too used to stormtroopers and security officers doing their jobs back when he was in the Empire and Imperium.

    With the crates loaded up it was time to head out "I agree with the bazaar idea, they must have a food section where they sell these type of things. Or people may use them as pets, who knows. Let's see if the bridge crew can help"

    He opened his comm "Azzurri, see if you and the navigator can find a local map for me. Me and Ami need to find a bazaar we can sell our wares"

    "Hold on, checking…" came the response and then some discussion in the background as Azzurri and the navigator got to work.

    A couple of minutes later the Lieutenant came back "Got one. Bilbousa Bazaar, apparently you can get anything there. Might be useful perhaps for the food shopping. Sending map to you now…."

    His datapad pinged, Lennox pulled it out and his smile grew wider. Azzurri and the navigator had come up trumps again, providing an icon for the location.plus a handy map.

    "Brilliant, thanks Azzurri, thank the navigator too, will check back in again soon" he shut off the comlink and showed Ami the map "Jackpot, there is a bazaar in the city itself. Hopefully there is someone there that likes hawkbat eggs."

    He put the datapad away and moved behind the controls of the hover dolly "Now we just need to find a taxi big enough to load these in" he gestured with a hand "Shall we?"

    “Yeah,” Ami replied with a tired nod. It would be a long walk from the outskirts of the city.

    As they worked their way down muddy roads towards an area where they would hopefully be able to catch a taxi of some kind, she kept expecting things to get a little nicer. Maybe more expensive as they drew closer to the areas with heavy commerce. Maybe cleaner, or safer-looking at the very least.

    This was not the case. Cross street after cross street of trash can fires gave a faint orange glow to the sky above. Spice addicts lined every street in various levels of decay, both living and dead. The atmosphere was noxious, and would only seem to grow more so as the polluted air which blanketed the planet began to mingle with the natural stink of a large city. Garbage, rot, urine - Bilbousa was a symphony of smells. This planet was a disease-ridden bog from one end to the other, it would seem.

    Finally the long road of mud had turned into one which was paved, though not very well. The pavement was cracked and uneven to the point of being unsafe to walk on unless one was being careful not to trip on either a crack or the vines and weeds climbing through.

    The first taxi they would see was one well large enough to accommodate their cargo, and as Ami flagged it down the large boxy hovercraft came to a stop.

    “We need a ride to the Bilbousa Bazaar,” she explained to the driver once he’d rolled his window down. She was not sure if he was a species she’d never seen before or if he was just a horrifying mutant. She suspected it was both when he opened his mouth to reply and spewed crumbs more forcefully than words. “Gggeettt innn,” he slurred, the sounds oozing from the front of his malformed head, more like death rattles than language. “Whattss yourr carrrrgguuhhhhoo?”

    This was worse than Hell, this was the deepest pit of Hell.

    As he was pushing the hover dolly along and he was getting a few weird and sinister looks his way, a hand on his blaster or either of the batons made sure that if they approached him, he would either shoot them or beat them nice and hard with his batons. He wished he had stayed back on board, however he could not leave Ami alone in this hell hole. Lennox’s arms were getting a little tired from pushing the hover dolly but it was good to get some exercise away from the gym and his usual workout and martial arts routines.

    The taxi approached as Ami flagged it down. Jerod stopped the hover dolly and waited as the driver, who looked like some kind of mutant asked what their cargo was. Jerod stepped around the dolly to answer, arms folded expression one of annoyance.

    "Nothing dangerous, just food we wish to sell" he said "Our business there is our own" he gave a quick look to Ami to check if she was okay then turned back to the driver," Take us to the bazaar, no questions asked, and you may get double the fare" if you don't you will get a whack in the face Jerod thought.

    He had to act like an outlaw, not an Imperial here, and he had to try and not look stoic, which was difficult. He was in with the scum now, he just had to play along.

    He moved behind the dolly again ready to load the crates on board.

    The driver blew a burst of air out of his mouth, mismatched tentacles flapping in the breeze it created, and waved a hand dismissively at Jerod. “Dddddo you knnnnnnnow wwwherre you are? Alllll ccccargo is danggggerous here. Just pppputit innn thhe tttrrunk.”

    Ami looked to Jerod and shrugged. At least there were no liars here. Once the crates were loaded she went to the far side and climbed in the back seat, and they were off toward the bazaar.

    “Ssooo, offfwworldders I ggggggggggguess?” the driver asked casually, steering with one hand and he weaved through light traffic.

    “Uh, yeah,” Ami answered.

    “Whhhhhat brbrbrinnngs yyyou to the gglorious jjjjjjewel?” He continued, the words gurgling from his hideous maw as though he weren’t a stomach-turning abomination. Ami noted he did smell rather nice, though. Like... vanilla, and toasted nuts.

    “Oh, you know,” Ami trailed off, “business. We’re businessmen. Errr, people, businesspeople. I’m not a man.”

    “Hahaa, yeah, thhhatt’s ccccool though. I llllike your eyes,” the driver sunk a little lower into his seat.

    “... thank you,” Ami answered, bewildered. Was this... whatever he was, flirting with her?

    “Ohh hhhhgghhey, hererrre we are,” the hovertaxi came to a stop, and just outside the Bilbousa Bazaar was bustling. It had to be the most active place by far in the mostly dead-seeming city.

    “Gosshhh, I hhhhhategoodbbbbyes,” the driver said with what one would expect was some kind of smile, but Ami was already climbing out of the vehicle. “Hhheyy, I’ll waivvve the fair by hhhallff iff you ggive her mmy nnummbber,” he turned to Jerod. “Shhhe forgggot to gget itt, it happpens.” He scribbled some digits on a piece of flimsi and held it out. “Jjjjustt fifttty ccrreditts, fffrriennd.”

    Jerod popped the crates in the trunk with the dolly and then joined Ami in the back. The driver did have a point, most of the cargo coming through was dangerous, spice, weapons, feral animals, slaves and all manner of outlaws like them buying or selling their wares. This mutated taxi driver had probably seen it all.

    Lennox watched the exchange between the driver and Ami and it seemed the driver was flirting with her. She seemed rather nervous too especially when the driver asked what brought them here. Jerod watched her his green eyes eyes noticing that yes she did have pretty eyes. After losing Cleo he never thought he could love another woman let alone look at one. But he knew he had to move on, Cleo would have wanted him to move on, she probably thought he had after they had split up. But the job was his bride, now though he did'nt have much of a job to do, perhaps he could find some time to make friends and find love.

    Xander though would be the problem. Who would want to be stuck with a psycho child?. Would he be happy with Lennox replacing his mother?. If Jerod found the right mother figure perhaps Xander would be fine.

    Besides if he did try and flirt with Ami he could end up going back to the ship alone, or end up in the mud. However it wouldn't hurt to pass some compliments over. See where that went.

    Because of his mind wandering he did not realise they had come to a stop and he suddenly realised Ami was getting out. He shook his head and put his business face back on. He gave the driver seventy credits "Extra for handling the cargo," he said "Sad to say you flirting did not yield results. But hey, as my mother always said there is someone for everyone out there. Unfortunately my business partner has not taken a fancy to you, someone might" he nodded at the driver and then headed to the back to retrieve the crates and dolly.

    Once unloaded Jerod stood beside Ami with a smile. "He does have a point, you do have lovely eyes" he turned serious again "Right, let's see whether we can find somebody to take these off our hands"

    Ami, who was still confused and disgusted by the mutant’s overtures, was not overly receptive to Jerod’s advances either. She was somewhat relieved, however, as they seemed toat least validate that the monster in the cab was indeed flirting, and that Ami wasn’t just flattering herself. It did irritate her though, the more she thought about the poor timing of it.

    “My eyes are small and too far apart,” she deflected, and pointed to the north. “Looks like the entrance to the bazaar is that way.”

    She thought, but it wasn’t clear. In truth the bazaar was like a city all its own, and somewhat amorphous .They were at its edge, or outskirts, and yet it seemed to surround them from three directions, the size of a regular city by itself, and there was no clear line indicating where it began and ended. There wasn’t *really* an entrance.

    Ami started north anyway, letting Jerod push the crates as penance for his opportunistic flirting.

    Jerod sighed well that went down well he thought as he continued to follow Ami.

    He took a quick look at his datapad whilst they had a minute. The bazaar itself was huge surrounding them like a small city, sights and sounds of a colourful marketplace at work.

    There was no entrance outlined on thae map Azzurri had sent him and Lennox couldn't see one. It basically looked like the bazaar was sprawled everywhere.

    He might as well follow and keep quiet for now until Ami spotted someone who would be able to take the crates off them. And at least Jerod was getting a good workout pushing the dolly.

    As they pushed forward, the bazaar grew thicker - a jungle of commerce which grew more and more difficult to navigate as one went on. At the beginning the shops were sparing - the less pricey stalls with the less lucrative wares and less money to spend buying the goods carried in dotted the outskirts, pushed to the fringes by those with the means to stake out a spot in the interior, where more foot traffic would intersect. It was all a game of exposure - allroads of course led to the center, and this was where the most powerful sellers, and buyers, would be situated.

    “HEY!” A raspy voice spoke up,and a winged alien short in stature leapt out from a stall to the right. “ARE YOUUU FOR SALE?” he reached out a hand to grope at Ami’s backside and gave a cackle.

    Ami reacted on pure reflex and landed a straight left square to the alien’s nose-snout, leaving him stumbling back. She immediately regretted it.

    “YOU KRIFFING WENCH!” he yelled, and went airborne towards her. She turned to run but was tackled to the ground - the alien was small but Ami was smaller and his weight made it difficult to even move, let alone throw him off and stand up.

    TAG: @Darth_wanderguard
     
  23. HanSolo29

    HanSolo29 Manager Emeritus + Official Star Wars Artist star 7 VIP - Former Mod/RSA

    Registered:
    Apr 13, 2001
    Another combo with Lady Belligerent and Darth_wanderguard – thank you so much, guys! ^:)^

    IC: Aryan Graul, Dr. Cal Jepsun, Dr. Olag, Valieri Denora, and Cheryl the Gamorrean
    Medical Clinic, Nal Hutta

    Cal felt his stomach sink when he saw the conditions in what was supposed to be a medical establishment. The lighting in the room was horrible, mostly because the glowrods appeared to be coated in years of grease residue, and there were discarded items piled on crates along one wall. Besides the bed, there were a couple of chairs beside a table, and a screen set up in one corner.

    Remembering the others in the party, Cal stepped back into the reception area just as Aryan was grunting curses. In fact, he completely missed Aryan’s impressive kick aimed at Olag.

    Meanwhile, Cheryl had been loosely restraining Aryan, but wasn’t holding his legs. Olag, whose back had been to Aryan, had appeared to anticipate the action. The healer had merely made a halting motion with his hand that held Aryan’s leg motionless in mid kick. Cheryl snorted and grunted something that Olag chuckled at as the receptionist went back to his desk. Aryan would be feeling an unexplained pressure that eased his leg down to the surface of the bed, and then the pressure spread as if a weighted blanket had been spread across his body.

    “Goodness, man,” Olag clicked his tongue and shook his head as he walked behind a dressing screen, “if you want me to help,” his voice now muffled as he was moving around behind the screen, “you’ll need to cease that useless expenditure of your energy.”

    Cal returned from reassuring Valieri that he’d stay with Aryan, as Olag stepped out from the screen. He had changed his clothes and was now in a sand-colored homespun cloth robe. ”What the kriff,” ran through Cal’s mind for probably fifty-odd times since they’d arrived.

    A low growl issued from deep within Aryan’s throat, though it was not in response to the young doctor’s stern rebuke...at least, not entirely. He was more frustrated, and perhaps even a little perplexed, by the strange feeling that had suddenly encompassed his whole body. It restricted his movement, and when his leg initially failed to reach full extension, he thought it had been yet another side effect of his injury that he would have to learn to compensate for.

    But it only continued to spread.

    Like a parasite consuming its host, it started with the offending leg and traveled slowly up his torso and shoulders before extending out at the neck to proceed down both arms. His muscles felt sluggish and weak, almost as if he was trying to navigate the hazy landscape of a terrible dream; no matter how hard he tried to command his body to move, it failed to cooperate. All the while, the danger continued to lurk from behind, drawing ever closer to his position.

    Closer and closer…

    Aryan jolted to keep himself awake, realizing far too late that he had allowed himself to momentarily lapse into unconsciousness. Whatever had overtaken him, it wasn’t exactly painful or unpleasant. It was quite the opposite, really. As the warm sensation embraced his body, it promoted a sense of calm that was slowly lulling him to sleep.

    And yet, he fought it. He couldn’t afford to slip away, particularly when the danger still loomed...

    In this instance, he perceived Dr. Olag as that danger, and he made no effort to hide this fact. Blinking through his fatigue, Aryan shifted his gaze to glare at the man, his eyes boring into him with an intensity that reflected his fear and uncertainty.

    “H--Help...no, uh...not,” he grumbled hoarsely, his eyes beginning to close again as his head sank back against the pillows. “No...from, err--you...uhh, leave.”

    Cal went to Aryan’s side to try and calm him, “please Aryan, keep an open mind and let’s see if Olag can help you,” he spoke in a soothing tone, “we have nothing to lose, so relax.”

    Olag had been washing his hands in a small basin that sat amongst dirty dishes on the table, and he came to stand on the opposite side of Aryan as he dried his hands on a tea towel. “Dr. Jepsun is quite right,” he assured Aryan, “besides most of my patients find the treatments quite uh, pleasurable. Now please take some slow deep breaths,” Olag opened Aryan’s shirt and placed his hands over the patient’s heart, fingers splayed, with light pressure. Olaf’s eyes were closed and Cal resisted the urge to roll his eyes, he couldn’t think of any reason this was going to help. “So, Olag?” Cal spoke up but Olag silenced him by shaking his head and shushing him with a soft, “shhh.”

    In the waiting room, Valieri was concerned for Aryan. She paced the length of the room several before Cheryl groaned loudly and pointed to a chair. She must have looked miserable because Cheryl brought her a cup of tea and possibly smiled as she handed it to the caretaker.

    As Dr. Olag began the procedure, no amount of persuasion from Jepsun or any of the others could alleviate Aryan’s fears. He remained unconvinced, his eyes staring up at the mottled ceiling and his jaw muscles clenched tightly with the tension. He may have protested further, but he simply did not have the strength. The strange sensation that had enveloped his body was relentless with its restraining capabilities; it was impossible to break free of its influence in his lethargic state. He could no coordinate his movements and he continued to feel himself drifting away...

    And then Olag touched him, his fingers prying open his shirt and spreading across his exposed flesh. Aryan noticeably flinched and issued a soft gasp, reacting to both the intrusion of his personal space and his own inability to move properly to escape. The young doctor would surely feel his pulse beating wildly against his chest, the rhythmic pounding making it seem as if his heart wanted to jump free of his ribcage.

    Aside from his rapid heartbeat, a sinking feeling also settled in the pit of his stomach as he angled his chin marginally to seek Dr. Jepsun’s face. Aryan tried to lift his arm to reach for the man, but the limb remained stubbornly at his side. Instead, he settled for a series of incoherent grunts that soon dissolved into simple words, his voice barely above a whisper.

    “Not...uh, work,” he grumbled quietly, reiterating his earlier point. It was difficult to tell whether he was speaking directly to Jepsun or more to himself for his own benefit. Either way, it was easy to see through his expression that he was miserable.

    Both Cal and Olag chose to ignore Aryan’s muttered protests.

    Finally, Olag removed his hands from Aryan’s chest and smiled gently, “you can relax you know,” his tone was kind, “I wanted to feel your heart before I begin healing. I’m happy to report that your heart is in excellent working order, however, I did notice a very minor area of ischemic heart disease.” Cal looked curiously at Olag, wondering how in nine hells he’d determined that without any scanning device. Worse yet, Cal had done scans right away when Aryan was brought to him and he didn’t find any heart issues.

    With a wavering breath, Aryan stilled and craned his neck to regard the younger man, the dull stupor that had haunted his expression since suffering his brain injury finally fading from his eyes to allow clarity to prevail once more. It might have only been a fleeting moment in an otherwise endless journey through a hazy existence, but it was enough for him to comprehend Olag’s words and offer a lucid response.

    “How...do...you, uh--know?” Aryan asked in his usual stammer, his brow furrowed with concern at the news he had just learned. In spite of his addled state, he knew that heart disease, even in its early stages, posed a serious health risk. Never mind that he was also severely brain-injured; this had apparently taken precedence in his mind.

    If only for a brief time...

    It soon occurred to him that it was possible Olag was simply bluffing to cause a distraction. The man was a danger, after all. And considering it was so easy for Aryan to lose his concentration, he quickly found himself drifting off on a new tangent. The possibility of a ruse played right into his anxiety, and he began to grow restless once more. As his behavior regressed, his blue-gray eyes shifted erratically toward Jepsun, almost as if he was seeking confirmation.

    “Doctor,” Olag spoke pulling Cal out of his wonderings, “there is a small hot plate on the counter, please make us tea,” he asked as he went to the foot of the bed and grasped both of Aryan’s ankles. “Don’t be alarmed,” he switched back to speaking to his patient, “it’s not completely unexpected for a male of your age. I’m sure Dr. Jepsun will monitor it and instruct you on a healthy diet and exercise regime.” Olag pulled Aryan until his feet were at the edge of the small bed, then he crawled beside his patient and situated himself behind Aryan’s head. After Olag adjusted his position for a few minutes he ended up with Aryan’s head resting in his lap. “Now, we will begin, and I require silence, unless I ask a question.”

    The healer closed his eyes and gently stroked Aryan’s hair and left his fingertips brush against the scalp. Olag took a deep breath and felt himself taking a journey through the brain, Aryan’s brain.

    Across the room, Cal looked up and saw Olag’s bizarre position and how he was poised over Aryan’s head. The startled physician dropped the full tea kettle, splashing water all over the floor. “Kriff!” Cal exclaimed and then cringed, “I know, I know...shhhh,” he whispered and looked for a rag to mop up the water. All the weirdness was making him jittery, he’d definitely made a mistake by bringing Aryan here. He was very close to calling for Rask to get them out of this place, but he’d finished preparing the tea instead.

    Olag grimaced at the clattering of the teapot, but didn’t open his eyes. He was slowly moving through the forebrain, which was where he picked to start his exploration.

    Things did not go well when the procedure began. Between Olag’s eccentric behavior and his rather brusque approach to health management, including his poor bedside manner, Aryan had reached his limit. His agitation worsened, and despite the precautions put into place to restrain him, he fought against it to thrash and scream wildly. If the young doctor had bothered to hook him up to proper medical equipment, the monitors would have likely been beeping to reflect his soaring blood pressure.

    At one point, he thought he even witnessed someone trying to hold him down and calm him, but that could’ve just been a hallucination. There was a very thin line that separated reality and fantasy in his debilitated state. Whether it had been real or simply an illusion, Aryan continued to flail about by rolling his head back and forth frantically in Olag’s lap.

    But then the doctor began to massage his scalp and everything changed. The action was soothing and relaxing at first, Olag’s efforts causing an almost hypnotic effect on his senses, though it continued to intensify until it felt as if the sensation had permeated deep inside his neural networks and his brain itself. There was also a mounting pressure that was unlike anything he had experienced before, almost as if something was trying to push against his eyes in an attempt to escape.

    And yet, Aryan did not feel any pain. Instead of continuing his struggle, he immediately quieted down. That was when the strange murmurings began.

    “Wha--where...is, uh--Crim...Crim-son...Temp, err--Temptress?” he grumbled quietly, his speech muffled to the point where it sounded as if he had a wad of cotton stuffed in his cheek. The words themselves were random, the delirious ramblings of a madman. “I...saw, uh…where? The...Crim--son, umm...Temptress…”

    Angling his chin, Aryan stared up at Olag with liquidy eyes that rolled back into his head slightly. “I...need--h-her,” he insisted in a whimsical tone before succumbing to his fatigue and drifting away...

    TAG: @Lady Belligerent; @Darth_wanderguard
     
  24. Snokers

    Snokers Jedi Master star 4

    Registered:
    Jul 8, 2015
    IC: Vizier Bo Etraa
    Riding the dragon...


    Bo grunted when the jetpacked maniac wiped him out. He hadn’t been anticipating the impact which left his stance loose enough to dislocate a shoulder when he was hit.

    But there was no time to react. He couldn’t even consider trying to regroup with the other two - he was being rushed by a fast approaching, slightly fearful looking hoard.

    The Vizier got to his feet with yet another grunt, noticing an unsightly crack in his once gleaming armour, in full view on the forearm too. That ‘Queen Mother’ would be fronting the cash for repairs!

    Lifting his blaster rifle, he shot from the hip, unleashing a rapid-fire barrage of bolts at the oncoming crowd. The ones who didn’t drop with the initial attack were ignited in a blaze of fury as the Vizier, not at all amused with the way things had been going thus far, engaged the flamethrower concealed below the sheathing of chrome around his wrist and turned the room into a deadly inferno.

    There were screams as men and women, staff, he presumed, of the Song Of War, darted frantically around the place before crashing to the floor in smoking heaps.

    He ceased when it was clear he’d put down the horde Tarsul had thrown at him. Bo holstered his blaster and reached around to his back to retrieve his staff. When he pressed the lever to engage the extending mechanism the staff broke into three pieces, sending a painful shockwave through his hand.

    BLAST!

    It must have taken all it could handle from being wedged between those elevator doors. It had saved his life however so he felt little regret. Still, it was his signature weapon; it had seen him through many a battle and felt natural to wield - just an extension of his armour really.

    But it was time, sure enough. He wanted to become a Sith. For real. He wished to build a lightsaber and for his brother to look upon him with pride, if they were ever to be reunited. He wished for them both to command a legion one day, a legion of darkness.

    When this was all over he would make a point of obtaining an audience with Insipid

    Somewhere in the distance he heard the pull of vacuum again through another hole in the ship.

    This Battle Dragon wasn’t long for this galaxy, he thought.



    TAG: @DarthIshyZ @darthbernael @darthhelinith @Sinrebirth
     
    Last edited: Nov 15, 2019
  25. Snokers

    Snokers Jedi Master star 4

    Registered:
    Jul 8, 2015
    IC: Darth Anark
    Shuttle, Nal Hutta



    The shuttle came down with a slight thud... Anark found himself a bit distracted by the scantily clad females behind him.

    Business business

    “Hush,” he hissed, too low for any of the Sith to hear.

    “Ike, go. Anark, you’re Lord Chall’s bodyguard. We’ll see you at the auction house.”

    Anark finished powering down the shuttle and spun round in his chair to regard this ‘Lord Chall’.

    The man called Ike was known to him only as the one who held Insipid’s heart for a time. He’d taken a dislike to the outlandishly dressed man the moment he laid eyes on him back in the hangar.

    Who would the Sith Emperor favor if the two were to fight he wondered, scratching at a bald patch in his eyebrow.

    Anark shot a look at Plo that communicated.

    He dutifully made his way down the ramp behind Ike and was greeted with the stench of Nal Hutta.

    His yellow eyes began searching immediately for the bazaar.


    TAG: @Lady Belligerent @Darth_wanderguard @QueenSabe7 @Sinrebirth
     
    Last edited: Nov 15, 2019