Pzob's Open Terrain

Buried under a pile of rubble within the sinkhole, the mechanical monstrosity raged against the natural confines it currently found itself in, straining its hydraulic powered limbs as it tried to dig itself free. As Tyna expected, the fall itself caused little harm to the warbot's metal encased frame, corrosion and state of disrepair aside. It stood as a testament to the Order's former level of engineering excellence. The Starkiller units were well built. Error messages flooding the Commodore's heads up display as its thick mechanical arms were unable to lift off the massive layer of rubble that had collapsed on top of it after crashing into the crater floor. After a few moments of trying and failing to shift the stones around it, the Machine Lord stopped struggling and began to seek other avenues of rescue. It activated its wireless transceiver and attempted to digitally interface with any NOE technology in the vicinity, whether to upload its viral package to another host or to override some piece of equipment in the area that might assist it. The result was a dismal quiet as the layer of sediment it was currently encased in blocked its attempts. That left one option remaining.

Tyna was unlikely to hear it, currently dealing with the emerging kinrath and the surviving pigs taking pot shots from the sinkholes lip, but a high pitch whine sounded beneath the pile of debris as the Machine Lord's assault cannon began to charge superheated plasma in its twin barrels. A second later and a layer of stoney debris erupted from the pile in the form of jagged shrapnel, shredding one of the kinrath as they unwittingly crossed in front of the warbot's prison of rubble. Smoke poured from the muzzle, escaping through gaps in the layer of rock to somewhat reveal his current position. A second shot rang out, this time liquifying stone until it ran like blood seeping from an open wound. A third shot followed, then a fourth as the trapped technological terror repeatedly fired its assault cannon into its tomb with reckless abandon. Solid rock transformed to liquid and toxic vapor. Glowing white hot, the mechanical skeleton of the Starkiller unit rose from the rock that now ran like water, smoke pouring off its frame as the liquid stone began to harden in the cool forest air. Shale splintered off the warbot's surface as it stood at attention and glared about the sinkhole with the cold fury of a zealot confronting the gravest blasphemy.

Glowing crimson photo-receptors locked on a kinrath rearing on the blessed saint. SHINK! Two long serrated blades slid from their casing on the Commodore's left arm and intercepted a claw of the venomous arachnid as it attempted to strike at Tyna from the rear. The sharpened blades honed to a razors edge carved through insectoid carapace with relative ease, sheering the limb off as ichor and blood sprayed from the creature's severed stump. Next, the mechanical right hand of the Machine Lord closed around the back of the kinrath's long neck and squeezed like a pneumatic vice, crushing its throat and grinding its exoskeleton to a meaty paste. Organic ooze drizzled from the warbot's metal digits as the life drained out of the arachnid. With an almost casual level of disrespect, the war machine tossed the kinrath corpse to the side and out of its way, before moving towards the Dread Seer's apprentice. Steam hissed from Commodore Starkiller's joints as he stepped forwards and began to select targets. Reticules appeared across his vision as his advanced sensors designated every living thing, with the exception of the saint, as a hostile.

Mechanical Tone Death to the heathen! All glory to the Eye!

Up came his right arm, still bleeding smoke from the twin muzzles as the air was marred by the acrid stench of burnt ozone. Unable to grin in savage delight, the Machine Lord allowed its assault cannon to express its mood adequately.


As a gamorrean boar peered over the lip and took aim with a poorly maintained blaster, a bolt of superheated energy struck it square in the face and punched a hole through its skull, cooking the surrounding meat as it collapsed forwards into the hole. The tantalising scent of roasted pork filled the air. Not that the Commodore had a nose to enjoy it. The other two bolts struck the lip and further widened the hole, causing several of the deceased tribesman's porcine comrades to fall into the pit where they burst like melons upon striking the stone strewn ground at the bottom. Dark mechanical laughter boomed from the Starkiller unit's vocal output unit as it began to revel in the destruction and death. Nothing delighted the Machine Lord quite so much as enacting his intended purpose: bringing the Eye's judgment to the unbeliever. He continued to fire away as he strode forwards, eventually reaching Tyna and placing his metallic frame between her and the lip crest where the gamorreans were most numerous. Their blaster bolts, when they had the good fortune to actually hit what they were aiming at, sizzled against his duranium shell like little gnat bites. Annoying, but otherwise harmless.

Following Tyna's eyes as she looked up at the sky, the immediate danger they were in dawned on the mechanical monstrosity. Between his reboot and discovering the saint, the satellite he had positioned to collide with their current location had been forgotten about. What's more, its collision with the ship providing them artillery support had now served to increase the amount of flaming wreckage that was soon to be dropped right on top of them. If they didn't move, the kinrath and savage pigmen would be the least of their problems. Lowering his assault cannon, he aimed at one of the arachnids emerging from its hole and blasted it to a smoking ruin in one shot, while the glow of his photo-receptors illuminated the opening it had come from. Another blaster bolt struck his head and his metallic cranium swiveled to look back at the crater lip, then down at the wall of stone they'd have to climb to extricate themselves from their current predicament.

Fleeing from the fiery debris streaking ever closer seemed cowardly to the Machine Lord and chafed at his circuits, but he had been instructed to survive this encounter, if only so that he might deliver the Eye's judgment in the future.

Mechanical Tone My lady... His speaker shrieked with audio distortions as he raised the volume over the sounds of combat around them. ...the tunnels these creatures are coming from, they may be our only avenue of... He hesitated to speak the word, the disbelief in his programming that he had been brought to this of all decisions. Finally, he spat the word from his speaker like a curse. ...escape.

As Tyna entered the nearest tunnel, the Machine Lord lingered at the opening, placing himself between the tunnel and the other threats in and around the sink hole. Blaster bolts continued to sizzle off his frame, scorching the duranium black in places while coating just about every available surface in carbon scoring. Though unable to feel pain as an organic did, his programming alerted him to the increase in damage he was taking, practically blotting out his vision with one warning after another. Irritated, he turned the alerts off. It didn't matter anymore. His circuits would either handle the damage or short circuit, either way there wasn't much he could do about it. A few more superheated bolts spewed from the mouth of his assault cannon, mostly for show as he couldn't get a clear fix on the pig men still hiding behind the lip at the top of the crater. The blaster bolts were growing less frequent, however, as even the gamorrean savages began to take notice of the flaming debris falling towards them like the Eye's judgment made manifest.

It was almost beautiful, he thought. Those two glowing lenses flared to their full brilliance as they struggled against the overwhelming bright death streaking ever closer. Some of the smaller debris was even making impacts, peppering kinrath still mulling about the pit with molten metal and jagged shrapnel. One piece, possibly a screw or nut from the recently exploded Spook, struck the Starkiller Unit in the left photo-receptor. The transparisteel lens shattered and a shower of sparks gushed from the damaged part like a bleeding wound. Taking it as a sign to leave, the warbot finally entered the tunnel after the blessed saint and slid down the angled drop in a shower of rock as his battered frame scraped the sides of the hole. With a particularly ungraceful fall, the Commodore crashed into the watery depths at the bottom and face planted the ground as his heavy frame sank to the bottom. The ground water fortunately extinguished the fire blazing in the left socket of his metal cranium, while washing a layer of grime and porcine blood from his outer casing. Placing both hydraulic powered arms on the floor, the Machine Lord pushed himself to his feet, emerging from the pool next to a kinrath corpse with a cracked carapace. His now singular glowing ocular sensor illuminated the otherwise dark tunnel, while water continued to drip out of the fried socket next to it. Reaching to the armoured arachnid, the warbot dug his metallic fingers into a section of exoskeleton and ripped free a palm sized piece of its shell. He held the chitin plate over his damaged receptor and using a concealed multi-tool in his middle right mechanical finger, spot glued the plate in place, sealing it from further intrusion by moisture or anything else.

Makeshift eye-patch now in place, the Commodore looked around the pool for any sign of the acolyte. She wasn't in his immediate presence but his motion sensors were pinging activity somewhere further ahead. The warbot wadded to the pools edge, then pulled himself up and out of the waist high depths. Water still sloshed around his iron shod feet, but was far less obstructive than before. Steam hissed from his joints as he continued further into the smoothing tunnel system. The terrain beneath his metal soles began to give slightly and he looked down at the mossy like growth that covered the slick surface and seemed to muffle the usual heavy thud of his step. He extended his left arm and prepared to burn the offending organic growth from the very ground when he recalled that all his fuel was already spent. Furious static crackled from his frustrated vocal output unit, elicited a series of expletives in pure binary code. Vexed, the war machine trundled forwards and around the bend, nearly crashing into Tyna who was communicating with someone. He just managed to catch the last part, joining the NOE channel as he stopped his metal frame just shy of the acolyte's kneeling body.

There was another member of the Order already down in the cave system? There was so much he had missed during his time spent in storage, his viral programming lingering in a limbo state. He had missed the Order's deception to the galaxy, the decline of their empire so that they might conceal themselves within another. He had missed the self internment of the Lord of War in cryo-stasis, as well as the departure of the other high lords. All he knew that remained for certain was the temple and those hannite meat-sacs that tended to it. But, if there was another keeper of the faith out there, he was practically duty bound to try and assist them.

Mechanical Tone My lady. His cybernetic voice was loud at first, but then modulated its volume, lowering in pitch to a hushed whisper. The Eye is in short supply of loyal followers, this Unit understands that now. We MUST move to assist.

Far easier to say than to actually do. Dimming its luminosity, the remaining photo-receptor performed a visual scan of the large cavern ahead and began to tally the kinrath within the hive. Too many to fight their way through if they had any hope of aiding this embattled loyalist. If his mechanical frame was in better condition and he still had a full weapons payload, he could have cleared them all. Currently that was not the case, however, and his frame was far too slow to outpace the bugs before they would be on them. As self detonation was still out of the question, that left only one solution he could calculate.

Mechanical Tone This Unit lacks suitable armament to subdue this infestation, but can provide a distraction long enough for you to assist. He paused before quickly interjecting for concern Tyna might protest. I swear by the Eye that I will not self-detonate.

Without even offering her the chance to reply, the technological terror rerouted power to his photo-receptor and speaker, projecting a blinding red light from his mechanical eye and causing loud static to crackle from his booming voice box. Slamming his heavy feet on the ground at the edge of the cavern to draw the attention of every kinrath drone in the vicinity.

Mechanical Tone Behold heathen scum! You stand in the presence of the Machine Lord, Commodore Starkiller, the judgment of the Eye blessed with pure mechanical form! Come and face your end! The Almighty Eye longs for the sacrifice of your imperfect organic flesh! Come quickly so that I may purge your pestilential blight from holy Pzob!

With reckless abandon, the mechanical monstrosity charged straight into the hive, hollering as loud of his volume settings would allow.

The noises behind her alerted her that something was approaching from her rear. Though the moss and the sand helped muffle Starkiller's stomping feet, hissing joints and bursts of static., it still seemed awkwardly loud to her. Maybe it might also be that she was on edge from the insanity of the day.

The cavern shuddered and vibrated, and rocks fell from the ceiling. VVVVvvvvvvvvvVVvVVvvvvvvvvvvvrvrvvvrvvvrrrrrrrvvvvvmmmmmmmmmmmmm  pop pop pop.... pop. splish splosh sploosh.  The impact gave away to additional vibrations, and Tyna could hear things dropping into the pool she landed in. The bombs and ammo on the Spook probably exploded when the wreck hit the ground. In the back of her mind she noted that the tunnels they used to enter were probably blocked now.
Tyna grimaced while the droid's vocabulator dropped the volume drastically. 
"Yeah. We will in a bit." She didn't look away from the Kinrath hive. Her voice carried the urgency of a teenager preoccupied with how to sneak past and/or kill the greatest number of Kinrath. It did not sound like she believed that the inquisitor needed her help. Brother Eli was a tough guy. He had held his own in worse situations... (probably? I mean it's not like she knew his life story).  In the glow from the lichen, she could make out what looked like two tunnels in the far wall.  Eli's location pulse told her that he was about 500 meters straight ahead, straight through the hive.  She hefted the grenade in her hand. If they timed it with a cave-in or she threw a grenade in a different direction to lure and distract the Kinrath, then they could both...
"What?" "Why...?" -would you, if you lack the armament? Why are you talking like that?" Is what she meant to say, but before Darth Tyna could say more, the wardroid charged towards the Kinrath.
"No!" She was utterly drowned out by Starkiller's amplified speech output. She clenched the grenade in her hand; the grenade that was supposed to cause the diversion that the Commodore was presently starting.
Already the Starkiller unit's angry stomping and shouting had attracted the Kinrath. Several viper Kinrath, larger than the drones, already were attempting to swarm the droid and trying to spear his shiny metal skin with their venomous barbed spike. Some of the drones began to franticly attempt to pick up their eggs to take them somewhere else, but did not seem to know where to go.  Drones began to pile up behind the vipers, ready to overwhelm the impending threat with sheer numbers if their viper counterparts were unsuccessful.

Like a silent black sprite in combat boots, Darth Tyna sprinted into the depths of the Kinrath cavern and away from the distraction that Commadore Starkiller was causing. Grenade still in hand, she cartwheeled around and leaped over Kinrath until she reached the opposite side of the cavern. She refused to look at Starkiller, her face a mixture of anger and concern at the same time. She'd never forgive him if he threw himself away. "Why? Why did you do that?" She had wanted to take on the Kinrath with her friend, but she knew the Commodore was clearing the way so she could go to Brother Eli. Based on Brother Eli's last transmission, it was important to back him up, even if the inquisitor could handle himself. That didn't mean that she had to like it.

"Greetings. I am IG-LOMM." The glowing yellow photo receptors shone from the darkness as a droid walked into view of the Starkiller unit, who was currently slaughtering Kinrath. The assassin droid was caked in dried mud. "My sensors identify you as a ranking Commodore asset of the Order of the Eye. I will assist you."  The IG droid had both of his DLT-20A blasters out and vibro-blade bayonets fixed on the barrels.
The IG droid was, no doubt, detected sooner by the superior electronic suite of the wardroid and the fact that Starkiller had not fired on Lomm was evidence that Starkiller identified Lomm as friendly, and would not interpret Lomm's weapons as threats... to Starkiller. 

"Initiating hostilities." The assassin droid began providing Starkiller with fire support. The circular targeting sensor band rotated around his spindle-shaped head, and his arms rotated independently as he fired on the Kinrath bunched around the Starkiller unit. If a Kinrath set foot too close, Lomm speared it with the bayonnets and a burst of blaster fire. 

The droid continued to talk as he walked and fired his blasters. "I am programed in cryptographic analysis and... hospitality." Lord Havok's ethics settings allowed IG-LOMM to lie to anyone except the sith lord. Sometimes it resulted in Lomm telling absolutely transparent lies. At times, he was an analyst, aid, assassin, or an agent of chaos to keep people on their toes.
"I am following Lord Havok's apprentice." He continued firing on the Kinrath, "to observe and log her performance."  Lomm followed Darth Tyna's location pulse until he encountered the superior wardroid. The IG assassin droid entered the cavern system from a different tunnel, shortly before the area was decimated by the proton cores on the Spook. "Have you seen her? She is small. Tyna even. Ha Ha." Lomm's joke was forced just like his jarring laughter. He calculated it had a 0% chance of getting a laugh from an organic, let alone another droid.

Lomm's blasterbolts cut through five of the weaker drones, leaving the stronger Viper Kinrath to the wardroid. Based on his earlier observations of Starkiller's performance, his processors calculated that Starkiller was able to dispatch the vipers gathered around the warbot. But on further, closer assessment, the Starkiller unit was showing additional wear and had accumulated more damage. "Starkiller unit: My sensors indicate that you are operating at less than optimal efficiency." The powercell dropped from one of Lomm's blasters and a small thin arm reached out from Lomm's torso and took the blaster and inserted a fresh powercell. Lomm's unburdened arm threw two concussion grenades at the clusters of drones and workers, before rearming itself with the reloaded blaster. The concussive explosions burst eggs, liquified soft tissues, and stunned nearby Kinrath. 
"Your trigger pulls are 18% slower. Perhaps you are compromised and in need of maintenance?" Lomm probed, seeking evidence of the conspiratorial theories his processors produced after watching the superior creation of metal and war programming bow down to Lord Havok's apprentice.

Brother Eli was able to dodge the attack aimed for his head, but the mass of the long narrow creature slammed the inquisitor's body into the cavern wall. "OOPH!" He regained himself in a flash. "DIE FOUL DEMON OF THE DEEP!" He managed to fire a sabot off before he was grappled by the creature, a large glim worm covered in shimmering crystalline scales. The sabot was deflected by the scales, spinning off and impacting in a shower of sparks farther down the tunnel.

In the struggle that followed, the creature managed to swallow the inquisitor's right arm up to his shoulder. The material of Brother Eli's armored trench coat resisted the cutting and piercing of the worm's teeth, but offered no protection against the massive crushing pressure of it's jaws which clamped down on his shoulder, grinding on his genetically enhanced bones. Unfortunately for the worm, Eli's slug-thrower was in his hand when the worm swallowed his arm. Unfortunately for Eli, he lost his grip on the sacred weapon as his shoulder was crushed. He could feel the wriggling peristalsis of the worm's hot gullet pull the gun away from him.

Eli was pinned against a rock by the body of a glimmering worm with spear-shaped scales. It reminded him of one of the trials where he had been interrogated by slowly being crushed under a durasteel plate, on which stood a starship's hydraulic landing leg. A crude, but effective test of loyalty. Even through the torture he never failed to utter his praises to the Holy Emperor. Now through his grimace he again prayed. "Ave... Imperitor. Ego servus tuus, punior et ethnicus. ... amen!" With his good left arm, the inquisitor reached for the handle of the inquisitor's cube, dropped when he was attacked. "The blood of the DAMNED shall quench my anger, saith the LORD!" The passages of the Sanctus Codex seemed to fortify him. In a divine feat of strength, the seven foot tall genetically enhanced human began bashing the meter-sized metal cube against the worm's head. "His WORDS...argh!... STRIKE the WICKED, and NOURISH the RIGHTEOUS!" The glim worm thrashed and shook the supernaturally violent inquisitor, trying to break its prey. The inquisitor again lost his grip on the inquisitor's cube after he gave the worm one final, savage bash. Miraculously the blow stunned the worm.

"While the wicked stand confounded, call me, with thy SAINTS surrounded!" Brother Eli used the lull to retrieve his slug thrower. With insane determination, the inquisitor pushed his right hand deeper into the worm's bowels. He could follow the lanyard and sling connected to the slugthrower going deeper into the worm's throat. Eli wrapped the lanyard around his wrist and slowly extracted the divine weapon from the depths until he felt the handle. "From the deep, I raise up mine servants..." Though acid burned his hand, he still managed to fire bolts off in the worm's mouth, shredding its guts. The sabots burst through the worm's digestive system and shattered and ricocheted against the underside of the worm's scales, causing massive internal damage. When one of the sabots cut the worm's spinal cord, the creature finally relaxed and went slack. 

It all happened so fast, he didn't even feel the pain until he was extracting his arm from the dead creature's mouth. He held his weapon in a death grip, and saw that the red clay talismanic seal on his blessed weapon was still intact. He tried to lift and move his right arm and it wouldn't obey. He let go of his slug thrower and the lanyard connected to his neck sling disintegrated letting the weapon fall to the sandy floor. 

Keeping an eye out for opportunistic cave spiders, Brother Eli retrieved the inquisitor's cube and opened it, reaching deep for a bacta pack. He pulled two bacta syringes from a pack of 6 and used his mouth to pull the caps off the needles. He leaned back against the wall and jammed both the syringes under his coat and into his shoulder and then used his chin to press the button that started the flow of the kalto-bacta mixture. He slid down the wall to a sitting position. "Just a little light-headed." The needles jutted out of his shoulder still.  He sang while he waited for the medical mixture to work. 
"The Emperor protects!
What have we to fear?"
Bow low and genuflect
water Pzob with your tears"
He could feel the healing concoction jumpstart his genetically engineered healing ability. Though in this case, with his shoulder crushed, it might only stabilize him. He would need to continue with his right arm... compromised.  With his left, he reached into the cube and pulled out a vial of consecrated oil. He poured several drops on his slug-thrower to neutralize the corrosive acids eating at the metal. He used the rest of the oil on his right hand to stop the acid currently eating away at his hand. Even a short exposure to the worm's stomach acid covered his bare hand in ulcers and blisters. He continued singing,
"Drexl and Porg shall lie together,
and frolic in a bed of heather
Xeno shall God's Drexl devour,
and murder millions by the hour."

He holstered his slug thrower and pulled out a collapsed warhammer from the inquisitor's cube. One end of the hammerhead was a claw, and the other end was a flat engraved surface of an eye with a spherical indentation where the pupil would be.

In the faint glow of the lichen in the tunnel, Brother Eli saw Darth Tyna approaching at a jog. His anger suddenly flared at the prodigal Sith. "Your lack of faith... has been a scourge on this mission."  What else could it be? SHE was the one that failed to love god. SHE was the one that would not stick to the mission. The inquisitor confessor displaced his own anger and shame over his temporary carelessness that allowed him to be ambushed by the Glim Worm and focused it on her. SHE was the cause of his misfortunes! Evil cannot befall the blessed... "Your weakness! Your... unbelief...; God punishes me for YOUR transgressions." His eyes were full of his misplaced hatred.
Tyna saw the dead Glim Worm leaking from multiple gaping wounds.  She saw the bacta syringes sticking out from the inquisitor's neck. She also saw Eli was not moving his right arm. He was in a weakened state. <Betray him.> She felt the impulse.

Brother Eli continued verbally railing on her. "...Mark my words. When God forsakes you-- when you will know his wrath, I will be there to scourge you..."
Darth Tyna's glowing red lightsaber tip appeared at Brother Eli's throat. "I could kill you now. How's that for wrath?" Her eyes flashed in the red light of her lightsaber, emboldened by his temporary weakness.
"I'm not afraid of death." Brother Eli spat. 
"I know. That's why I'm not going to kill you." The inquisitor's absolute, unshakable faith bothered her. In a world of darkness and shades of gray, how could he operate as if everything was black and white? "I just wanted to make a point. If I wanted to kill you, I could. Besides, you'd probably like dying, you sicko." Killing Eli would displease Havok. Alot. "I'm more afraid of going back to my master empty handed, than I am of your words or your 'scourge.'" She spoke matter-of-factly. 
"Lord Havok is God's instrument, whether he cares to admit it or not."  He sneered. "I obey his command until the signs and the Eye dictate otherwise." Listening to her talk was more painful than his wounds. But then again, he knew she was trying to hurt him. A fledgling sith and her dun moch. "When God commands it, I'll make your death a painful one." He could not touch her while under Havok's protection. At least during the mission.

There it was. The side of Brother Eli that let her know that he wouldn't try to 'cleanse' her absent Havok's permission. They were all friends again. She extinguished her lightsaber. "How bad are you wounded?"
"Bad enough that I'm considering scrubbing the mission." Brother Eli threatened. "Especially if I have to do all the work." He wasn't that badly injured but he wanted to see her squirm.
"Fuck no." The sith apprentice would not accept failure and risk Havok's punishment. She bowed her head, as if praying. "Uh, May god strengthen your ripped, big-ass, inquisitor body. I command you rise up and walk! That's an order soldier! Or whatever. I'm trying to believe."
"Your blasphemy..."  The inquisitor grunted and climbed to his feet. "will doom us all." His faith in god was sustaining him, though the bacta coursing through his body helped alittle. 
"I'll try to remember that, Brother Eli." She used his preferred name. She didn't want to push him too far. It already seemed like the Inquisitor was one small push away from trying to kill her, just like her friend Starkiller. She really was going to need to study the religious side of the Order when she got back to the Belphagor. 
"The sins of the servant fall upon the head of the master." Brother Eli muttered. He could rightfully argue that Lord Havok shared the blame, and he would have words with the Sith after the mission.  "The terentatek is this way.  Are you listening?" As an afterthought, he pulled the bacta syringes out of his shoulder. 

"For fucks sake." Darth Tyna reached into the inquisitor's cube for another syringe and pulled out another bandolier of grenades. "Why are there so many grenades in here?"
Brother Eli closed the cube. "To liquidate nonbelievers." Taking one of the concussion grenades from the bandolier, Brother Eli placed it in the indentation on the striking head of the warhammer, completing the engraving of an all-seeing EYE. With the press of a hand, the collapsed handle of the warhammer extended to full length. While the weapon would be two-handed for a normal human, Eli, with his 7 foot tall dimensions, wielded it with his left arm.

The rain was getting progressively worse. Darker clouds arrived, glowing with the flashes of lightening. Tendrils of electrical energy shot from cloud to cloud, followed by the loud rumbling bass of thunder. Through a trail of smashed trunks and tree limbs, the Spook's lifepod sat in a clearing of toppled trees that the pod carved through the thick forests of Pzob. Green figures gathered around the pod. 

With engine sounds masked by the howling of the wind, rain and thunder, the rescue ship came in low and stopped to hovered just above the treetops. A black figure with a large sniper rifle jumped out of the open rear cargo hatch into the trees. Within moments, the rescue ship started getting hit with small-arms blaster fire from the ground. The shots harmlessly carbon scored the outside of the ship, as its engines powered up and accelerated back in the direction from which it came.

BAM BAM BAM!
Ensign Ives watched fearfully as the large, burly, green figures continued bashing at the lifepod door. He could hear the muffled squeals and grunts of their language.
"Lifepod 1, calling for help!" the Ensign was whispering into his comlink, hoping someone-- anyone-- would hear him. "Is anyone out there? Can anyone hear us?"
"Lifepod 1 this is Rescue 23. We read you. Marking your position."
"Oh my gosh! They found us! They found us... Uh." He remembered to push the transmitter button on the comlink. "Please hurry! They're trying to open the door!"
"Who is trying to open the door?"
"The green people! They have sticks and rocks!"
"We can't stick around. We've dropped someone off for you. We're going to the other lifepod and picking them up and then coming back for you. Just sit tight until we get back."
"Wh-what? You can't leave us!" Ives was whispering franticly.
"We have our... orders. Like we said. We have an operator coming for you, he should already be at your crash site. Do you copy?"
"Don't go! The natives! They're trying to get in!"
"We hear you. But we'll be back. Hang on until then. Rescue 23 over and out."
The ensign tried to raise the ship again, but it wasn't responding. An operator? What the hell does that mean?

Ives frantically shook Faust and Leno again trying to wake them. This time his efforts were rewarded.
"Ow. Stop. Just five more minutes." The pilot of the Spook stirred.
"Faust, wake up!" Ives continued shaking him. "We crashed!"
"Crashed? Psht. Impossible. I'm the best... wait." Faust opened one eye, realizing he was in a lifepod and not his bunk. "Ah, shit. That wasn't a dream."
"Ah hah hah. No. We were hit." The ensign turned and tried to wake up the Spook's executive officer, Leno. "Sir. SIR! We need you! Wake up!"

The pod came to rest on its side, lying on the main door. The auxiliary hatch was their only means of exit. The hatch was 0.66m x 0.66m with a small window in the center, though it was progressively getting more scratched up as the natives continued beating on it.
BAM! BAM! BAM!
Faust sat up in the pod to see the glaring face of a Gamorrean staring back at him through the viewport on the pod hatch. "HOLY FUCK!" The pilot's jump-scare sent a first aid kit flying and which landed on Leno's crotch.
"AHHHHHH!" Leno suddenly came to, and doubled over in pain. "FUCK!" They were all in the navy. No one shied away from salty spacer language.
Faust, still watching the Gamorrean at the hatch, pulled a tiny concealed recon blaster from his waistband. "Ives, what. the. fuck."
"They're crawling all over the pod. They have been trying to get in for the past 15 minutes." The ensign felt compelled to continue whispering, afraid that the enemies outside might hear them talking. "I think they are the natives of this planet."
"No shit, Ives. I think those are Gamorreans." They were even uglier up close. "I've seen them fight in the combat rings on Coruscant." Faust frequented gambling establishments and saw a few Gamorrean fights. 
Leno, still holding his crotch, looked over at the hatch. "Yeah. those are Gamorreans. Tough SOBs."
"What do we do sir?"
"Survival inventory.  What do we have weapon-wise?" Leno, now conscious was taking charge of the situation, as best as one could.
"Uh, there is a... survival kit with a survival vibroblade a sonic axe, and a hunting bowcaster."
"I have a blaster, sir." Faust volunteered.
"Ok, so I'll take the hunting bowcaster. If they breach, the plan is we blast anything that sticks its head in the hatch. If anyone gets past us, Ives, kill them with the ax or the vibroblade. If one of us falls, then take our blaster and keep on fighting. Whomever is the last man standing, fight as long as you can and shoot the other two to make sure they are dead before you shoot yourself. I don't think these Gamorreans are going to take prisoners."  Leno's plan was efficient and practical.
Faust nodded and held his blaster at the ready. "Any response from search and rescue?" 
"You just missed them, before you guys woke up. I picked up a rescue ship on my comlink, but they said they couldn't stay. They had to go get another escape pod. They said they dropped an operator here." Ives wondered. "What's taking so long?"
"Where? I don't see anything happening outside." Faust couldn't see anything outside that would indicate any rescuers were in the vicinity. 

BAM BANG BAM BAM BANG BANG! The Gamorreans resumed beating on the lifepod hatch.
"Did you raise the operator on the comlink." Faust asked.
"Not yet." Ives fumbled with the comlink.
"I'll try." Leno reached out for the comlink.
Ives passed the comlink to Leno. "Unidentified Imperial operator, this is Lifepod 1 of the Gozanti cruiser Spook. I am Executive Officer Leno, requesting that you identify yourself."
"..."
The silence was broken by additional pounding on the hatch door.
BAM BAM BAM BANG BANG BANG...    PING!  Ping. The distinct sound of the metal bolt of the hatch sheering off.  WAH-BUMP WAH-BUMP-    It took the Gamorreans a moment to realize the hatch door was flapping open as they continued to hit it.
With the pod no longer sealed, they could hear the sound of rain and thunder outside.
"This is it boys."

"Emperor's star, guide my sight, find my prey in darkest night, Amen!" "By the Holy Codex, we will soon be upon our quarry." Brother Eli was whispering now as he stalked along. 
Darth Tyna still couldn't make out how the Inquisitor was able to track the terentatek, following imperceptible traces of a trail on the stone floor of the cave system. Regardless, her mind was more preoccupied on the possible bloodbath ahead. Brother Eli seemed to be in worse shape than he let on, and the dread she felt when she tried to look into the future was an ill omen. She spoke up. "I don't think your plan for a direct frontal assault will work."
"What would a doubter know of God's covenant with his servants?" The inquisitor scoffed. The injured fanatic, with one working arm, was confident. "If god wills it, I will be victorious. The Emperor protects the faithful. The honor of victory is mine to secure, and shall be a token of God's might and glory."
"What difference does it make whether an assault is from the front, or side? Or if I take the lead and you are backing me up instead?  Are you planning on beating it unconscious?" 
"I, God's humble servant, have done so to a rancor, once before." He hefted his warhammer. "I only needed several concussion grenades." Brother Eli was wearing two bandoliers of grenades, and Darth Tyna had a third bandolier. "Your questions vex me. What do you know of the will of God? Have you had a vision?" It annoyed the confessor that God shared his visions with the girl and not one as righteous as him.
Tyna's silence was conspicuous.
"Go on then, speak oracle: have you had a vision?"  It was one of the few times Brother Eli called her by the apprentice's formal title, Oracle.
"I have but, it's not clear."  Her mind was full of the image of the beast's toothy grin.
"Go on. I am listening." Brother Eli coaxed. The inquisitor confessor had heard many a heretical confession... usually such dark secrets required torture to uncover, but sometimes... quieter... tactics were called for.
"One of us dies. I see a body being torn to shreds...-" She stopped talking.
"And?"
Her muted expressions suddenly became animated and irritated. "And? And I don't go 'deeper!' I let go and stop, 'cause I don't want to see it!"
"You let go of the vision?" Brother Eli was surprised.
"Yeah? So What?" There was that irritable teenage tone again.
"Is that even possible?" He said almost to himself. "Torn to shreds." He repeated to himself. Huh. "Afraid?" He said aloud. "So The Oracle of the Dread Seer is afraid?" Maybe even terrified. "You can't serve Lord Havok if you're afraid of god's gifts."
"I'm not afraid." Her denial was not convincing.
"You are afraid." Of course she was afraid of the power of god. It made perfect sense.
"I'M NOT AFRAID! It's just a vision! I can look at it any time!" Her cheeks were flushed red with anger and embarrassment. 
Brother Eli lifted a finger to his lips to remind her to keep her voice down, warhammer still in hand. "Then do it. Tell me what you see, oracle."

<You are not weak. You are strong. Your heart is hard.> She closed her eyes, "I see..."  She could see flesh being ripped and torn in the jaws of the terentatek... but she felt no pain. It might mean she was already dead, if the body was hers, or it might mean it was Brother Eli...  She couldn't see any remnants of clothing to give her a clue...  "I see the beast eating one of us, I can't tell which." <Do not fear...Thunder only follows, and lightening strikes harder.>

"Well, it will"  "probably be you..." Brother Eli started to say.
"What is that sound?" Tyna heard a noise.
Crrrrrshkt! Crrr Crrrrshingkt!
They carefully turned the corner and were confronted by a walking mound of horns and spikes. They froze realizing it was the backside of a large beast. Darth Tyna eyeballed it in comparison to Brother Eli. It had to be nearly double Brother Eli's height, to be around 4 meters tall.
Crrrrrshkt! Crrr Crrrrshingkt!
The beast was scratching and scraping at the rocks in front of it. The attention of the predator was absorbed by its attempt to claw at a small nook in the rock. The legendary beast was actively clawing at the crumbling sandy walls of the cavern. Clumps of sand and rock flew behind it, landing on a larger pile of rocks it had dug. It paused for a moment, and lowered its snout to the entrance of the recess, sniffing. It found the smell it wanted and, with a snort, began clawing at the stone again with more energy. The creature's stubby spade-shaped tail wiggled in excitement. The beast began grunting trying to scratch and claw the sides away to get at the unfortunate prey trapped inside.

Brother Eli lowered the inquisitor's cube to the floor and re-established his grip on the warhammer.
The terentatek seemed to catch a whiff of Darth Tyna and Brother Eli. It's manner suddenly changed. It seemed to flex its scales so they didn't click or clack as it moved anymore. Its motions became very smooth. It's tail did not wag. Silently it lifted its head and extended its long narrow tongue as if tasting the air. It bent his sinewy neck to look over its shoulder...

While the terentatek was distracted by the newcomers' scent, the cornered prey bolted from the nook in the wall. Darth Tyna caught a glimpse of the humanoid shape moving impossibly fast along the wall and away from the nook and the beast. The terentatek reacted instantly to the movement by giving chase. It galloped after the fleeing figure.

Not another chase! Brother Eli had spent half a day tracking and chasing the beast and now the chase appeared to continue. To hell with Tyna's plan. This blessed creature would clearly revel in the opportunity to fight one of the Emperor's chosen servants. "FOR THE EMPEROR!" The Inquisitor charged after the beast, intent on preventing it from escaping. 

<Fight smarter, not harder.> In spite of this clusterfrack, she felt her master's training take over.  "What is the Terentatek chasing?" Darth Tyna stretched out with the force...

Brother Eli caught up to the beast to find it appeared to be dancing. The terentatek had both its arms over its head and was doing little hops as if trying to reach the ceiling in the darkness above it. The inquisitor charged and shouted his challenge. "By the power of the Imperial Messiah!"
"ELI! NO!" Darth Tyna's voice rang out behind him, but the inquisitor was already swinging his mighty, righteous warhammer. As if in slow motion, the sacred talismanic seals and scrolls on the weapon streamed through the air. 
Unawware of the incoming attack, the Terentatek jumped and swiped its paws at something floating in the air over it's head.
The head of the hammer struck the beast's shorter hindleg as it jumped. The concussion grenade in the warhammer's striking face exploded on impact and blasted the terentatek's leg, knocking it out from under it. With a frustrated roar the beast stumbled and caught itself on on it's knees. It menacingly glared as it climbed to it's feet again, not significantly injured. It's left thigh held a bloody and burned imprint of the eye engraving from Eli's warhammer head.

Inquisitor Eli was already reloading another concussion grenade into the smoking hammerhead. He was grinning. He couldn't help it. He could feel the spirit of Saint Kryptman quickening his actions. He was filled with the divine spirit of God! "Holy cleansing fire of destruction, sanctify through strife! Amen!"
"Don't do it inquisitor!" Darth Tyna's vioce called out again behind him. What did that whelp know anyway? She couldn't even properly see the future... Brother Eli deliberately ignored her. 

The terentatek rose up and turned on the inquisitor faster than its size would suggest possible. It's appearance was indeed terrifying. Its maw was a massive grin full of teeth as sharp as vibroblades. It's head had two large tusks and horns sprouting from it's crown like a teufel dervish.

Brother Eli readied himself for another swing, but paused, suddenly realizing there was a Gamorrean floating over the fearsome creature's head. That slight hesitation gave the beast an opening. It attacked Brother Eli with a powerful swing of its massive right paw.

The inquisitor barely had time to brace for the impact and block the terentatek's claws with the head of his warhammer. "GOD'S WILL BE DONE!" He commended himself to the hands of the Almighty Eye. BRAAM! The ringing sound of claws on metal reverberated through the cavern.  The full force of the impact bent through the warhammer and into Eli's left arm and body, dislocating joints throughout his genetically enhanced skeleton and pounding him down into the ground, cracking the stone beneath his boots. The pain was exceptional, possibly even divine.
Brother Eli threw off the Terentatek's paw. Every movement caused new pain to spike in his body. The single strike of the mighty beast left his body feeling like he had just survived a speederbike crash. "Forsake me NOT! Harken angels to my need!" He grit his teeth. "RESTORE. ME. TO. THY... SALVATION!" The inquisitor flexed his body, straining with all his might. The veins on his face and neck bulged as his muscles began to force the dislocated bones in his arms, legs, back and ribs back into place. "AMEN!" The genetically purified and enhanced inquisitor cracked his neck, putting one last bone into place. This technique sufficed for the battlefield, but was not true healing. The pain wracking his body reminded him of the ritual floggings and brandings that covered his body in holy symbols. If this continued much longer...
The cave dwelling monster was frustrated by the inquisitor that refused to crumple like food or flee like prey. It roared its displeasure with its large toothy mouth; flecks of spittle spattering far and wide.

Despite the continuing pain, the champion of the militant order of the inquisitorious wound up for another swing with his sanctified warhammer emblazed with the all-seeing Eye. "Upon the beasts in the fields, the LORD GOD breathes, for they shall not mock their master..."

Darth Havok landed in the branches of the trees as the wind and rain whipped around him. The Gamorreans that fired blasters on the shuttle either didn't see him jump, or lost sight of him in the tree tops. Within moments he had selected a branch that gave him a clear shot of the clearing with the life pod surrounded by collapsed trees. He fastened his jumpsuit's harness to the branch and unslung his sniper rifle. Nothing fancy, just an updated rendition of the same slug thrower he used to use when he was a sniper back the Onderon military. Havok lifted his rifle with the butt to his shoulder and pointed down at the clearing. Honestly it was ludicrous that he was using the rifle at such close range, but screw it. Sometimes the itch for overkill needed to be scratched.
In the branches, water still flecked his face. The storm shook the tree tops, and Havok's face was soon soaked. There was no scope for the seer to wipe, just iron sights. His assault suit naturally repelled the moisture everywhere else.

Havok observed the 21 wet Gamorreans clustered around the life pod. Some of them banging on the door, some of them roaring and squealing encouragement.  Others were standing watch with blasters. They hadn't seemed to realize all the potential applications of well placed blaster bolts: for instance, that they could have used blasters to shoot the locks on the pod. A side effect of their very recent discovery of blasters, no doubt. 

The seer could see the threads of their lives, woven into the fabric of the force. He could vaguely see some of them being born; the dark side on Pzob invaded the wombs of some and mingled their blood with the force... The essence of Pzob had twisted most of them into larger and more fearsome versions of the species. Too bad they still needed several decades to undergo a greater transformation before they could function as the mindless butchers they would become.  Such pathetically short lives. The seer made a note to himself that genetic intervention might shape them into something more useful. 

The seer closed his eyes. Like a spearfisher sticking his face in the ocean, the Gamorrean lives gathered in the clearing around the escape pod flashed into view like small shimmering lights-- candles that he would snuff out. The flow of the force, like a river, would carry their souls to him, waiting like a ravenous black hole. The moment fast approached that would tip them over the event-horizon of their lives and their fates would be sealed; forever terminating and swallowed up by the destiny of the Dread Seer.

Havok could hear the distant music start to play.  The seer could not help but hear and feel the wound echoing through the force- all of time and space. His wound. That haunting music from Onderon. The wells of rage it inspired- encouraging him to end another life and another. Time had worn those memories smooth. The hate served him well. Havok was not indisposed, nor was he reminiscing, yet his heart was still there back in that cellar, praying to the gods for death; back when he believed in gods.

That was before he realized *he* was the god. Surrounded by lesser mortals unable to channel the powers that flowed through him. The ability to see the future... and the past. Such overwhelming power. You feel it in your bones. It cleaves you in two. You are both here, and there simultaneously.  In the Now and Then.  As if you become a two-faced god, able to see forwards and backwards at once. You hold the sword in your hands and you can see it simultaneously being forged and rusting into oblivion across a thousand years. You see every life taken along the way. A thousand lives pumping through the blade like the beating of a heart.

Darth Havok's finger rested on the trigger of his rifle. His eyes were still closed. The wind and thunder and lightning faded away. He could feel the dark side pulsing through his veins, his fingers, begging Havok to commune with his brother Mortale, the Lord of Death, and bridge the gap between the world of the living and the dead. Every shot would be guided by the dread seer's supernatural sight. Every soul would be an offering to honor Lord Mortale. "Death always gets his due." 

Havok's comlink came to life with the voice of one of the survivors in the pod.
"Unidentified Imperial operator, this is Lifepod 1 of the Gozanti cruiser Spook. I am Executive Officer Leno, requesting that you identify yourself."
"..." Havok thumbed the transmitter to answer, before thinking better of it. This wouldn't take much... time.