Preacher
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Post by Preacher on Nov 30, 2014 9:38:32 GMT -8
Preacher made it to the bottom of the ramp before collapsing to his knees. The medical professionals from... wherever this was... had taken over, and Adrien's future lay in their hands. He knelt and said a few quiet words of hope and respect as the medical hover-bed with Adrien's prone form disappeared into the building. It was a supreme effort to stand and re-enter the ship. He made it as far as the common area before falling into a deep sleep on one of the couches...
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Post by Preacher on Nov 28, 2014 15:05:53 GMT -8
I'll have one up tonight or tomorrow morning.
-Preacher
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Post by Preacher on Nov 19, 2014 6:42:24 GMT -8
"Sir? You can uhm...relax a little now. We're at the Medical Center."
The words were like the first morsel of food for a starving man. It seemed that years had passed, and Preacher felt bruised and battered, beaten down by the sheer force of will Adrien put forth. He knew that as soon as the link was ended, that feeling of ages, of years spent in the mind of this man, would pass like fog burned away by the sun, but would be replaced by an all-encompassing fatigue.
As gently as possible, he removed himself from Adrien's mind and body. He opened his eyes for the first time in hours, and squinted from the dim light of the Wayfarer's interior. Almost immediately, his legs felt like slabs of granite, and the need to sleep was overwhelming.
Likewise, as soon as he disengaged from Adrien, the man's vitals dipped and spiked wildly. Everything from respiratory function to blood flow to the wounds -- all responded anew. Connected monitors all began flashing alerts, as Draykon was again in danger of succumbing to his various injuries as if they had all just happened moments ago. Dressings applied to the wounds were now soaked through with blood, and moans of pain filled the cabin.
Vision swam back into focus, and Preacher saw where they were, and his eyes filled with terror.
You said we were in the Medical Centre! We're still in the gorram ship! This man's going to die! -- casting about and spying the hatch release, he slammed it with a closed fist and the ramp began to descend...
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Post by Preacher on Nov 12, 2014 20:53:49 GMT -8
Aw, crap. Why didn't I follow the link? I would have known a few days ago we were already in orbit...
Ugh. Nothing like being a week late to a party that's already over!
Ah, well. Pretend that my post happened in Honoghr orbit instead of hyperspace?
Dan
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Post by Preacher on Nov 12, 2014 5:26:45 GMT -8
Post up. Just a bit of filler till we reach Honoghr.
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Post by Preacher on Nov 11, 2014 18:29:35 GMT -8
...aboard the Wayfarer-class transport 'Midnight Shadow,' medlab.
Preacher held on for dear life, clinging to every ounce of his Power as he fought a dizzying battle of wills with the being known as Adrien Draykon. This was not where Preacher's strength lay. Healing was more the realm of the sisters of Mercy back on Kilia, and he had seen some of their works, even spoken to one of the older sisters about their skills with the Strength a few times... but his was a killing art. Yet here he was, doing his best that this man might be saved from some truly awful injuries. Yet Draykon fought him, every step of the way. His will spoke volumes.
Adrien, I'm trying to help you.
GET OUT!! AAAARGH!!! GET OUT! OUT. OUT! OUT OF MY HEAD.
The sheer force and thunderous white noise of the intensity of Draykon's vehemence was staggering. Every act was met with the same anger, confusion, outrage. Though Preacher was keeping the man alive, it seemed almost certain he would rather be dead than have Preacher's art practiced on him. Everything the outlander did was to preserve, heal, prolong, calm. But this man was stubborn to a fault, and fought his actions as if they were an assault.
Thus, though the time certainly moved slowly for Erly, doing her best in the medlab to heal using science, to Preacher it seemed that weeks passed. He was exhausted, drained, spent. But if he released Adrien now, he would surely die. So he held on, and hoped they reached their destination soon.
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Post by Preacher on Nov 5, 2014 9:04:19 GMT -8
I'll have one up this evening.
-Dan
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Post by Preacher on Nov 3, 2014 12:18:01 GMT -8
Au contraire... I think we aught to post an arrival in Honoghr orbit now -- Kiri and Dice are busy, and we'll languish in Hyperspace forever if one of us doesn't make a move. Fenrir, you're Cap'n... you make the call. I'm ready to post if need be, but I won't make the move without say-so.
But let's move this along, please.
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Post by Preacher on Nov 1, 2014 12:16:18 GMT -8
I don't really need to say anything (unless someone interacts with me) until Honoghr.
P
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Post by Preacher on Oct 29, 2014 17:21:46 GMT -8
Yo!!!! Who's up? Personally, Preacher isn't going to stop what he's doing to jump on the squawk box to introduce himself... so does anybody have stuff to say IC, or should we jump to Honoghr?
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Post by Preacher on Oct 26, 2014 17:32:31 GMT -8
hm. Well... you'll get over it!
...or you won't.
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Post by Preacher on Oct 26, 2014 14:58:05 GMT -8
Hey Fenrir,
You mention in your post that you have a particular problem with Force-users. Though in your profile, it only mentions that you take extra damage from their attacks. What particular problem do you have with Forcies? Or will I just have to wait and see?
-Dan
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Post by Preacher on Oct 24, 2014 16:55:16 GMT -8
Her voice registered as if from at the end of a hallway, and Preacher nodded, though he remained standing, taking no notice of the chair, nor opening his eyes. Being this deeply entwined with another was disconcerting, and it took the Outlander a few moments to remember that he hadn't informed anyone of his intentions or what in fact he was doing with their Captain. Those sorts of surface thoughts became a distant, low priority when his mind was so focused on Adrien'd well-being. He wanted to set her mind at ease, that he wasn't doing any harm, but the fact was, what he had to say may not leave the other occupant of the medlab feeling any better about his efforts.
Thanks, Miss. To be honest, can't rightly say what I'm doing. I can see wrongs in here, and I'm setting them to rights. Bout the best I can explain it. I'm also doing my level best to keep the Cap'n calm, and I'm lowering his bodily functions to their lowest possible levels to conserve his strength, and give you the time to do any healings that your machines and needles can do. You'll notice his heart-rate and pulse. That's me. I can tell you this: he's a fighter. More willpower than many I've encountered.
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Post by Preacher on Oct 21, 2014 17:49:38 GMT -8
The blonde-haired woman and the team's Captain (and Preacher, by proxy, as he still held firm to the Captain's shoulder) were led into what the Outlander could only imagine was some kind of med-lab. Eyes still shut and deep in concentration, the goings-on outside his own head were muffled, like listening to a vid with the volume too low. The floor sounded different, and the room echoed and reverberated differently than the one they were in before. Preacher caught snippits of conversation, talk of IV's and bacta, injections and monitors. Thru all of this he stayed perfectly still, though should someone attempt to remove, or move him, they would find Preacher strangely immobile, as if tethered by chains to Adrien's torso. Outwardly, there were few signs that Preacher was doing much of anything, though sweat stood out on his brow, and on occasion he gritted his teeth and moaned in unison with the Captain.
Inwardly, he fought as hard as he had ever been forced to fight. This man was stubborn, and fought Preacher's help every step of the way. He had remarkable reserves of strength and tenacity, but he was in a bad way, and navigating the man's mind was treacherous. Finally, Preacher was forced to slow the man's circulatory, brain and respiratory functions to almost nil in order to stabilize him at all, and even then he was using every ounce of his strength. It seemed as though days had passed...
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Post by Preacher on Oct 20, 2014 11:49:03 GMT -8
Kiri, you're up!
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Post by Preacher on Oct 17, 2014 6:59:27 GMT -8
??
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Post by Preacher on Oct 17, 2014 5:53:57 GMT -8
Thanks Erly! That's pretty high praise. To be honest, though I've played TOR, and I really enjoyed the video for 'Return' (maybe my favorite of the three TOR cinematics) I really hadn't thought of Okarr when I designed Preacher. He really comes from two places: The visual in my profile and my avatar was drawn by a good friend of mine, Ramon Perez, for an RPG quite a few years ago that, to me, really represented the sort of travelling judge/jury/executioner that we saw in many Westerns (Pale Rider, Joe Kidd...) and which I saw comparisons to in sci-fi and always enjoyed (Dredd, for instance) but had never seen a version from the Star Wars Universe, and thought it would work well here, too. Ethically, the character does draw a little on religion, though I am by no means a religious person. Truthfully, I wanted to challenge the site's (and the wider SW community in general) narrow view of the Force, and those who practice it. Is he light-side? Dark-side? A Sith? In the case of the Preacher, these questions are all left purposefully vague. And he doesn't have the answers.
What if there were a powerful force-user that came from a planet with no outside influence from the galaxy, and no technology to speak of? (like Preacher's Kilia IV) What if this force-user grew up with his own set of morals and frontier sense of what's right and wrong, using both light and dark powers without benefit of training or guidance from other force-users? I am looking forward to finding out...
But yeah... I re-watched the 'Return' video, and that moment where Okarr draws his pistols... very cooooool.
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Post by Preacher on Oct 16, 2014 14:58:11 GMT -8
Post up, y'all!
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Post by Preacher on Oct 16, 2014 14:56:01 GMT -8
The blonde woman who had bumped into him, throwing him off-balance, was clearly rattled, and as the group pressed in toward the ramp of the Wayfarer-class transport, with sirens and all manner of evil bearing down upon them, Preacher allowed himself to be carried along with the crew, even as the same woman called out, panic in her voice, "Come on mister, you're gonna get killed staying out here!"
Watching the armored man and the fierce warrior lay waste to the remaining thugs, Preacher couldn't argue with that logic. Never turning his back from the gangway, he nodded to the blonde and backed with her into the belly of the ship, passed at break-neck speed by another, red-headed female humanoid, who headed off deeper into the vessel. Only when the armored man, also covering their retreat had entered the hold, then left a moment later closing the boarding ramp, did Preacher look about himself to take in these new travellers. He cast a watchful gaze over the crew, opening the breech of his shooter, allowing the spent, hot brass to clatter on the duralumin grating of the cargo hold, and reloaded the three spent rounds, sheathing the hand-cannon in it's thigh holster.
Seeing the injured member of the party was worse off than he might've originally thought, he approached cautiously, in case the crew were particularly touchy about their own. Pulling his hand free of its glove, he carefully placed it palm-down on the man's shoulder as the blonde took the man's pulse. Then blondie referred to the man as their Captain. Preacher closed his eyes, and concentrated, calling on his Inner Strength, and Adrien stirred under his touch, moaning. He spoke, his eyes still firmly shut.
I can keep him stable for a few hours, maybe more, but my art is no replacement for a doctor. This man... is not human. He needs special care.
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Post by Preacher on Oct 15, 2014 11:54:35 GMT -8
If Dice doesn't post tonight, can I slide one in before she gets around to it? Just don't want to lose momentum!
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