Diva, from Aeons Torn
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Post by Diva, from Aeons Torn on May 20, 2013 10:15:31 GMT -8
Press.
Yes! Yes! Yes! Pool those emotions, collect all that focus, and most of all, gather the Force. Rely on it, because in the end, it would be more than enough to feed the Smiling Mouthpiece. Eralam's collection of power, it was magnificent, a grade-A self-defecation causer for children. Really, he was spoon-feeding the hostility of the self styled queen of ice blue. And his sidekick -she was impressive! The stuff of nightmares, so angry that it truly should have been part of the definition of sexy. But. . .
...beep...
. . . She tensed, and Diva twisted her body to plant her black Doc M. boots on the floor. The pyromaniac jumped, sailing the small gap like death incarnate, but the black-and-blue, waterlogged devil had already crouched low like an animal, hands and feet touching like a tiger crouched for a pounce. Kuroro managed to fly over Diva's head, but not without burning off a large collection of the witch's luxurious black hair. Perhaps the psycho would clutch down on the locks, hoping to use the leverage to pull her enemy down. The hairs burned off completely, however, and now the only thing that could stop Kuroro's attractive momentum would be her own body.
...beep...
Bullet fast, before another movement could be devised, Diva was already diving past Eralam's poised legs. It was an extremely tight fit, so much so that the stubby bat wings that were pinned to her shoulders tore off against his robotic knee-caps. Two long slashes tear down her black dress with a sound effect much like toilet paper ripping in infinite relief. The seemingly useless Deagle pistol is scoped up in an icy white hand, and now the girl bounces off the other end of the basement wall, streaking upward in a flash of blackness.
...beep...
The wonderful thing about thermal detonators wasn't just the fact that they could tear holes through the hull of a space ship. It wasn't that on the upon activation with a simple button press, it took five seconds to blow the device. It wasn't that they were the size of a hand grenade, and were usually carried as such. It wasn't that if one were to blow in this basement, it would cause the floor above to collapse on top of it. The truly wonderful thing about thermal dets was something so honest. They were waterproof.
. . . beep. . .
Diva flies through the broken window which enabled street access. She lands acrobatically into a cool poise at the center of the road. The thermal detonator she primed was currently placed upon the floor of the basement, between Eralam and Kuroro, chirping gleefully since it thought it would get to make its explosion with such happy looking people around. There was plenty of time for lovers to hold hands and die.
. . . . . beep . . . . .
The long sleeping Queen grins viciously.
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on May 20, 2013 11:06:20 GMT -8
...beep...
"Huh?"
Eralam knew thermal detonators. That all-consuming sphere of plasma is a sapper's best friend. It eats through walls, doors, armor and flesh with equal ease. Five meters or so of nuclear fusion, your very own personal star. Eralam knew thermal detonators. They were his friends.
But that wouldn't save Kuroro.
...beep...
"SHIT!!!!"
The fiery human was still midair at this point. The scent of burning hair flooded the room as the waterlogged one dove between his legs. The Robot Space Ninja had exactly one chance, one chance to save his psychotic companion. He lashed out with his right hand, trying to grab the back of Kuroro's outfit. As soon as he had a solid grip, he stepped forward and pivoted on the balls of his feet, turning towards the right. The Force flooded through the room, lending its power to Eralam as he sent the operative flying through the window. With a little luck, she'd collide with the owner of the thermal detonator.
One problem solved, one to go.
...beep...
The trick to surviving a thermal detonator blast is simple: don't get caught in the blast radius. Unless you could conduct heat about a thousand times more efficiently than copper, you were kriffed, plain and simple. But if one were to get outside that sphere of death, even by a centimeter, you were fine. Well, fine aside from the secondary effects like collapsing buildings or what have you. Eralam figured he'd take his chances with the building.
...beep...
Once again the Force was called upon, and once again it filled the Shard to the brim. In one smooth motion, he turns the spin that should throw Kuroro clear into a crouch, building as much potential energy as possible in his hydraulic muscles. And then, with the help of the Force, he leaps. Straight up. Right through the ceiling, right through the floor above him, and clean into the building's second floor. His trajectory carries him out of the blast radius, but not out of the building. To the unobservant, it might even look like he didn't make it out of that basement.
...beep...
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Will Sontir
The Jedi Order
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Post by Will Sontir on May 20, 2013 21:19:16 GMT -8
Now, in the Medical Facility
On the third floor now there is the happen instance meeting of three force users, Jedi Master Will Son'tir (Watchmen of the Calamari Sector), Jedi Master Jago Pulastra (High Councilor of the Jedi Order, and a force user. whose name we have now learned, Was Syren. Syren is purpose of the jedis' visit to the medical facility, despite any resistance from the facility's faculty and administrators. She has willfully submitted herself to the custody of the Jedi; and now asks for a private audience with the Jedi before they decide her fate. . . .
As the High Councilor spoke with Syren, Will more then politely asked the security to remain their distance. He pulled the Nautolan aside and asked that they, a specially trained and hand picked squad of soldiers from Dac Def known as "Poseidon's Fist," bring their Quarren counterparts up and they take escort duty to the three as they seek a place to take an audience . . . .
Will could feel a sense of . . . pain? agony? suffering? All? Will was not sure why, but they grew in their anguish. Will took a deep breath to allow the anguish to flow through him as a part of the Force and expel it from his mind. When the squad was complete, Will took it upon himself to take lead to the turbolift to the Administrative floor of the Medical Facility, where he knew he would find a private conference room and a friend to the Jedi: The Medical Facility Administrator, Fanriel. . . . .
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Chloro
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Post by Chloro on May 21, 2013 2:53:34 GMT -8
So near, so near. Kuroro knew she missed from the smell. It was hair, but no skin. The flames still had a healthy blue glow and not the sickly yellow blaze of burning fat and bone. She gave a angry growl of frustration. Which turned into a startled shout as Eralam hurled her. At first it was mildly disorientating, but she caught that whiff of burning hair again - and she knew she was on the right track again. Like a bat out of hell, Diva sailed through the window - followed by the hell. The smaller girl had been lucky to avoid getting scalped the first time, but this time she wouldn't take any chances.
Sweeping her arms out, she tries to tackle Diva off her feet. If only Diva would give her a chance, Kuroro would give her the most unforgettable facial treatment ever. Would Eralam like to watch? She hoped so - after all she was doing this for him. That's why he sent her after Diva in the first place. Unlike Diva, Kuroro was no monster, destroying for malice. She did it for love.
Where was he anyway?
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on May 21, 2013 11:58:48 GMT -8
*CRASH!*
"...Hnn?"
*An outlandish man standing in the street leaning against a wall two buildings down turned his twisted looking, war paint masked face, his milky eyes landing on the source of the loud noise. He was just in time spy a girl come forth from a window like bat out of hell. Passers by would have expected she was thrown had she not landed on her feet with a grace so unusual looking back at the building with a most malice grin.*
"Bravo. Nine point five out of ten for style."
*Murd'er's interest had been peaked and he turned his menacing frame towards the unfolding events slowly marching forward, wading through the people. There was no way in hell he would blend in with the common for of this world. Massive spiked mohawk - Tanned, scarred tattooed skin and studded black leather attire. His war painted face and sickly white eyes would do no better to blend him in. As he moved closer he watched as another girl came flying through the shattered window like a rocket right towards the girl before. Must be some sort of tea party gone wrong. Fighting of a boy? He grinned to himself.*
*Murd'er positioned himself within a few feet from the scene but also out of the way. He wish he had some snacks. Violence was always fun and he could sense the intense pull of the dark side on these two. He had his hand on his slug revolver on him and a nice sharp blade should he wish to join the fun.*
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Diva, from Aeons Torn
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Post by Diva, from Aeons Torn on May 21, 2013 15:35:13 GMT -8
There was that confidence, as if all was victory and splashed gallbladder. But you could see it rip upon the Countess' face a moment before the explosion. It was disapproval, disappointment, and all around the stuff of letdowns. It was okay. . . She would fix the problem.
Without looking back, Diva whips down her hands from face level in a smooth, circular motion. The air ripples around them in sudden intensity, and then two highly controlled bursts of Force Push blast down upon the asphalt beneath her boots. The entire move is again executed with that same quick ferocity, like a tigress taking the form of anemic looking girl.
!BOOOOOM!
Again, a close call. Again, the firey piece of Sithspawn nearly ends the Ice Queen's latest reign of terror. Again, in the space of about four seconds, she misses. Albeit this time, instead of hair burning, the back of Diva's dress is singed by the beautiful heat that seemed enough to melt heavy metals. As the Mistress of Ice lands, she takes two quick steps backward while Kuroro no doubt prepares another heavy attack. Diva, aware of how important it is to make everyone feel important and special, goads her attacker.
"You know, you'd think someone who uses so much fire would try to use that heat to burn off those extra pounds."
She smiles sheepishly.
"You need an edge!" The massive explosion of the basement behind her is of no concern. Nor are the many speeder alarms that now echo across the nearby streets. The monster's blue eyes pause, and then she looks and points to the newcomer who watched their dance with just the right kind of expression.
"Mohawk! This girl needs a trim! Do the right thing -slice her down to ribbons!"
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on May 21, 2013 16:25:43 GMT -8
The building rocked as the basement was rendered down to its constituent elements, but fortunately, it stayed upright. Thermal dets lack the concussive force of normal explosives, and that was why Eralam didn't find himself buried under a few tons of rubble. There was structural damage a plenty, but it would hold for another minute or so. That was time enough for a little gunsmithing and mind screwing.
The Desert Eagle was still firmly tucked into the Shard's gun belt. He took the thing out, jacked back the slide, hit the slide release, and jacked the slide back forwards. With the release engaged, the slide and barrel came off easily.
Despite their crazy huge bullets and fearsome reputation, Deagles are surprisingly simple weapons. For field stripping purposes, it breaks down into 5 pieces: the slide assembly, barrel assembly, the frame, the buffer spring assembly, and the gas piston. You could break it down a lot further if you wanted, but this was enough for Eralam. He just needed to get to the slide assembly, and only that because he needed access to the bolt.
Now that the he wouldn't have to fight the buffer spring, the Shard held the slide in both hands. The left hand pushed the firing pin forwards, so that the tip protruded from the bolt face. Under ordinary operation, the trigger is pulled, and the hammer springs forward and strikes the firing pin, sending it forward and into the percussion cap built into the cartridge. Eralam intended to mix things up a bit. He held his right index finger just above the tip of the protruding pin. Using the his prodigious skill with Absorb, he took a tiny bit of power from his cell and channeled it through his finger and down to the bolt face, producing a tiny arc. After a second, the firing pin was welded in place by a tiny bead. It wouldn't be obvious that it had been modified unless the operator took the time to break the thing down. With that done, Eralam threw the thing back together.
Next step: trigger a small explosion, something that looked like the natural result of a building being torn to shit. Gas line-check. Source of ignition-check. Convincing fireball that would be easily handled by the Shard's aforementioned talent with Absorb-check.
KABOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The fireball was quite harmless to Eralam, but it blew out every window on the floor and sent out an impressive cloud of debris. Included in that was a well aimed .50 cal gas operated semiautomatic pistol. If everything went just right, it would land right at its owner's feet.
So what was the point of all this? Why go through all the trouble? Well, Eralam's modification would not hinder the gun from firing. Far from it. Since the firing pin was now permanently protruding, the act of chambering a round would also cause it to fire. And since the act of firing would chamber another round, the whole magazine would be expended in short order. Given the already massive recoil of the thing, it would be hilariously unusable.
As a bonus, the explosion gave further evidence to the idea that Eralam might be dead or incapacitated. He only had a few more moments before he'd have to evac the building, but he would use those moments wisely.
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Chloro
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Post by Chloro on May 21, 2013 17:16:52 GMT -8
Kuroro sailed past Diva and this time there was no Eralam to cushion the blow. She faceplanted into the street. How embarrassing. Kuroro's form stayed prone for a moment, not so much from the jarring smash but from the shame of missing - twice. She picked her head up in time to watch the building where Eralam was shudder visibly from the explosion. From the deep rumble, she knew it was a barradium charge.
Eralam...
The tar caught fire, engulfing Kuroro in her own inferno. The radiant heat made the world swoon with distortion. Diva's verb jibe did not even register above the hammering of her heart and the roar of the flames. And sickening dread that she felt for Eralam. Her body spasmed as the Sith alchemy brewed a special batch from her dispair. Death would be too good for that pathetic girl. Rising, she spread her hands and a new wave of black napalm spewed out in a wide arc. Duracrete burst into flame. The whole world took on the surreal edge as everything visibly sagged from heat.
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on May 21, 2013 17:19:49 GMT -8
*The freak of a man turned his gaze only for a moment as an ear splitting explosion rocked the basement of the building that had moments before held the two deadly maidens. A smirk crossed his cracked, dry lips as smoke drifted out of the building bringing with it the lovely smell destruction. As speeder alarms rang out and people went into a panic bolting in every direction but the source of the explosion Murd'er returned his sights to the dance of Fire and Ice before him just in time to see the the first demon-girl begin her counter. With curiosity he watched as she brought her hands down and used the force to push herself up and over the oncoming girl before landing and taking a few steps back. This little devil clearly knew what she was doing, impressive. Insulting words meant to taunt flowed forth.*
*Murd'er chuckled and muttered to himself*"Hiss hiss! Very catty." *His chuckled subsided as the blue eyes girl turned and pointed to him. Curiosity peaking again he met his eyes to hers as she hissed a command to him. He felt it humorous and another smirk came to his demented face. She had a lot of guts demanding he took action under her will but he liked her initiative and will to play dirty. Two against one was hardly fair. It hardly mattered he'd been invited to the party and he would never let a lady down! Murd'er clapped his hands together and rubbed them together momentarily, warming up with over exaggeration. He shook himself out and laughed before calling out.*"Yes my queen!" The man bowed again with exaggeration and while doing so he reached with his right hand, into his boot and gripped his blades handle. Rising he was armed and ready to join the tango. He moved towards the two girls with a gnarly smile.*"Play time!"
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Diva, from Aeons Torn
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Post by Diva, from Aeons Torn on May 22, 2013 7:25:27 GMT -8
The fire spreads, spewing black ichorous clouds that are at first small, then spiral out of control, fervently rising, aiming to choke out Dac's lovely afternoon sky. Vehicles close to the inferno are caught in its snare, and one civilian speeder explodes as the heat engulfs its fuel tank. Those fiery debris bounce along the street, spreading terror as metal chunks pierced the nearest windows. Civilians are injured, and then the screams begin. Workers are shrieking, poor mothers clutch their infants in the nearest apartment buildings, and the emergency lines are strangled with a stampede of calls: some calling for fire, others for police due to terrorists, and yet many more needed life support, because glass puncturing your hands was extremely painful if you weren't a superhero.
Rhythm.
A smoking and dark figure bursts upwards from the black flames, landing against the fourth story of the apartment building which just had it's basement blown out.
Music.
Clouds splay and flee from sudden cold. The figure is Diva, grinning wildly. The right side of her face has sizzled off in the heat, revealing the dripping muscle beneath, and these grievous burns run along the scalp of the Brat, revealing ivory skull in patches of red blood. More intense scaring snakes around the body, but especially along the legs and arms. Now, the black dress has essentially melted into patches of the Ice Queen's skin. Specs of her cursed blood trail off and sprinkle the quivering mass of flame below.
!DOO DOOBEE DOO!
The vicious Queen stands. . .straight up at a 90 degree angle of the wall. Defying natural physics, she holds up her arms, brandishing her somehow reacquired Desert Eagle .50 pistol, as if gravity was merely something a being could master.
"Hell opens!"
Another speeder explodes. Engine parts bounce off the head of a pet in a safety cage while the owners are away. It whimpers. Dies. Fire pops and jumps, and a family roasts, doing their best impression of Diva's face, but handling it far worse. Vehicle and store alarms compete for which goes the loudest, and there, another scream as glass shatters. And all this sound, it's masked so subtly by the Sithspawn's inferno. Now, police sirens add their distant but ever growing wail to the improvised orchestra. Those pearly white teeth grind in excitement, and Diva's marred hands begin to drum an invisible drum, her pistol shining with an ethereal charm due to the intense lighting.
"!BUM-BUM-BUM BUDDA-DA-DA-DA-DA-DA, BUM-BUM-BUM BUDDA-DA-DA-DA-DA-DA!"
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on May 23, 2013 6:41:21 GMT -8
Normally, the sight of a wounded enemy is comforting to Eralam. This time, however, it was creepier than a group of clowns travelling in a panel van with the words "Free Candy" painted on the side in a shade of red that looks suspiciously like blood. On top of that, he wasn't quite sure why she was fighting. Or how she was standing on a freaking wall. Minor details. There was time to sort out that crap later.
The explosion on the third floor had left the Shard with a rather hefty surplus of Force energy that would have to be burned off rather quickly. Master of Absorb though he may be, he's as prone to the negatives as any other being. Fortunately, he had the perfect opportunity to do just that. Diva was standing on the 4th floor. He was on the third. He could feel her peculiar madness bleeding into the Force like oil from a ruptured well spilling into the ocean.
There was naught but a bit of weak and burning floor and the outside wall between them. He crouched once more, taking just a moment to infuse his next move with enough pure power to send him flying through both physical barriers to tackle the girl from below. If he could get them down to the street, where Kuroro's pyromaniacal tendencies had run amok, it would basically be over. There was no way a humanoid could withstand the heat for longer than a few seconds, and he could take it for minutes.
Now that the exposition was finished, Eralam launched.
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Jago
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Post by Jago on May 23, 2013 15:21:36 GMT -8
Foamwander Medical Facility Administrative Office of Fanriel ~ The Jedi and Syren swept into the room, Will making the necessary arrangements with the owner of the place so that they could have some privacy. Jago's eyes had been dulled on the journey there, however.
The pain. Syren had mentioned it, and it was as if flicking on a switch in his head. Apparently he had been getting slightly better at shutting himself to outside emotions, but when it was brought to his attention so sharply there was no chance of ignoring it. The suffering of others. A powerful emotion, if ever there was one. It was for this reason that hospitals were never Jago's first choice to visit. He could feel it: the desperation and prayers, the hopeless and the stoic. The facility was both a place for the dying and for the reborn: an interesting and, ultimately, confusing aspect through The Force: to sense life extinguished, only as a new spark came into the Universe at the same time. It was overwhelming in some cases and he, much like he assumed Syren, was glad to be in a place relatively separated from the more intense lower levels.
" This is better," he sighed in relief, still feeling the tingling sensation at the back of his mind but otherwise, once again, in control.
" So! Syren, was it?" Jago began oddly cheerfully (considering the circumstances), " Seems you and we have to have a bit of a talk."
He motioned to Will before taking a seat in a rather plush and comfortable office chair, waving for Syren to join him in relaxing. There was little need for formalities, he felt.
" Had a bit of an accident when I first saw you, I noticed," he approached the subject carefully, measuring his words as his brows came together slightly. An inquisitive expression glossed over his features.
" Do you know what happened? What you did, or, more precisely, what you used to do that?"~
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Syren
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Post by Syren on May 23, 2013 16:30:04 GMT -8
*Syren looked around the room as she entered. A random doctor's office.*
<<Probably out to play a round of zero-G golf in one of the city courses.>> *She took a seat across from Jago as he waved her into a chair. As she sat, the cushion seemed like it was trying to eat her as she sank into the plush covering. She decided that she would not relax just yet, but sat on the edge of the seat.
Her hands were folded tightly in her lap as Jago referenced their meeting.* <<How much should I elaborate?>> *Her thumb brushed softly against her wrist as she thought.*<<On second thought, how much do I know?>>
"Jago," *She started after her moment of hesitation,* "While I don't think the good doctor upstairs has released my files to you, I will go ahead and state that while I may know what I am called and what I am physically, I have no idea who I am. I washed up in this city six months ago after wandering around these oceans for who knows how long." *She offered him that smile of nightmares again,* "Before winding up in the psyche ward here, I have no memories. What I have recovered, like my name, and my species, seems to come back through flashes or dreams." *Her shoulders gave a little shrug, the universal "I have no idea what's going on."*
"As for upstairs," *She blew out a deep breath of air and held up her hands to stare at them,* "I was about to leave, discharged from this place. But I had this growing sense of dread? Maybe panic? A really difficult to describe feeling, one that can only be described as 'bad.' It seemed to follow me from my room to the turbolifts." *She shook her head, a shock of green hair falling in front of her face.* "When the orderly touched me, I just... reacted. As if I were being attacked? The motion felt familiar, and there was this fluid rush, or that's kind of what it felt like, like surge when the tide comes onto a shallow reef! That rush ran from the tip of my head and out through my fingers. Some kind of energy? Nen? Is that what it was, that threw the orderly away from me?" *She blinked at him, sensing that he might have more of an idea of what just happened.
Then she looked from Jago to Will and back to Jago. "But our encounter was chance? Why are you here? The Doctor clearly has no love for you... Jedi? What a silly sounding word." *She chuckled a bit.
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Chloro
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Post by Chloro on May 24, 2013 4:20:16 GMT -8
Kuroro was blind to the world, a protected by a membrane that had been built in to prevent her eyes from catching fire in her own inferno. But she didn't need her eyes to know that the world was looking the way it should. It frightened her, it fulfilled her. A part of her would be blackened, the raw nerves never able to feel again, while her other half would burn without relief. It was a calculated to create not only a useful weapon, but equipped it with a user with no inhibition to use it. It was a potent mixture - as was the next load of heat that she was bringing.
There was a pleasant smell of a lower-metropolis bonfire and a sickening reek of something that didn't want to quite burn. And Kuroro prided herself of being quite thorough in this department. There was no need to ignite her own flame - at this point, anything remotely flammable had joined in the pyre. Metals of all sort were aflame. So, she slowed things down. The roaring flames began thickening, like rubber flowing uphill. It stuck and burnt anything it came into contact with - but that was an unlikely scenario for most. Anything within spitting distance would find themselves missing the needed facilities to do so - such a face.
Moving like a princess in full regalia, carefully picking her way forward, she moved toward the singed smell. There was a Diva at the end of the rainbow. Would there be anything left when she opened her up?
She felt a spray hit her face - not of fire. Something wet. Sniff. Blood. The stench, unbearably strong, again. That didn't melt like blood should. Kuroro frowned - that wasn't right...
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Jago
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Post by Jago on May 24, 2013 6:07:27 GMT -8
~ Well, the signs were all there: perception of emotions. The ability to sense things that felt intrinsically wrong. Usage of a power triggered by a heightened state of panic. There could be no doubt about it. Syren was touched by The Force, and could feel and use its awesome and terrifying abilities.
Perhaps no Jedi would describe their ability to manipulate the world around them as terrifying, but Jago often felt a need to take note of the fact that, usually for worse, they frightened normal folk. They broke every law of science ever stated by making gravity, electromagnetism, and time their plaything, shattered the feeble concepts of mental privacy with powers of the mind that con artists could only dream to have, and summoned reserves of strength and speed that made them appear super, no matter the species in question. While The Force was a natural thing that touched life, all life, the fact that not everyone could feel or sense it often gave them misconceptions about Jedi that strayed into horror stories of women and men cursed with the power to unmake stars with a wish.
But that was to muse on another time. For now, Jago could only lean forward in his chair, elbows resting upon his knees as his fingers formed a steeple to support his chin. This woman, this Syren, was describing amnesia: a scary thought. He couldn't even possibly imagine the feeling of not being able to recall who or where he was. That the aquatic Force User was taking this all in stride was ... Commendable, to say the least.
Her smile made him shudder perceptibly, passing off the shaking as if a sudden chill had entered the room instead. Her grin was ... Predatory. Hungry, almost. While he was sure that was simply how her species smiled, it still felt off a bit. Then again, he had never even seen a member of Syren's species before. Or had he? He seemed to recall ... Maybe. Hard to say. Regardless, the "flashes of dream" she described as aiding her memory ... That felt like something more, something beyond a regular mortal's definition of insight.
" What is your species?" he asked of her curiously, tilting his head in an owl-like manner, " I'm sorry to ask, but ... I don't think I've ever encountered one of your kind before, and I've been around the Galaxy once or twice."
Definitely from a water planet, that seemed ... likely. Not Dac. Manaan? Didn't seem at all in line with a Selkath off-shoot. Glee Anselm ... Definitely not related to Nautolans. Possible Anselmi relative? Unlikely. Varn, maybe, but ... He didn't recall any aquatic indigenous species on Varn. Then again, his geographical and cultural knowledge of water worlds was sorely underdeveloped, derived from his own fear of the substance. Drowning was not appealing to him in the slightest.
When she described her reaction to the orderly, Jago listened intently, nodding briefly as she spoke of "energy" that she had felt and used. His lips curved into a soft smile as she related the experience to the ocean, knowing that it often helped newcomers to The Force to compare the jolt of power to something their mind could rationalize and see: it was actually a wonderful meditation technique, and helped focus a Jedi to better understand who she was, and what she was capable of.
" You could describe it as energy, yes. It's ... It's like an energy field, in a sense. You can feel it all around you: it's what made you want to come up here, away from the lower levels. You felt pain and anguish, but did not know why, yes? That's part of the same aspect that allowed you to push the attendant away. All of us can feel it in one way or another, some more strongly than others. It surrounds us, all life, everywhere. It penetrates us, allowing you to feel the heartbeat of the very stars. binds us together, that we may know and understand the universe in ways more intimately than even I, still, can imagine."
He leaned back, stretching out a bit before standing and pacing a bit around the room. Jago often got quite restless if kept in one spot for too long: his friends had jokingly referred to him as a caged sand panther more than once upon witnessing his need to move, to go, after being rooted for only a few minutes.
" It's called The Force."
Jago let the name hang in the air for a moment. A powerful title for a powerful entity.
" It flows through us, the river that connects us all through its tributaries," he described, using water analogies like she had in the hopes his point would come across clearer, " It can be as still and quiet as a pond, or as unyielding and mighty as the greatest of tidal waves. Its applications are many, the attempts to understand it taking lifetimes that no species has. And you, Syren."
He stopped in his tracks. Faced her. Locked her eyes upon his azure gaze not with their normal, icy sheen, but with warmth and compassion like the clearest sky.
" You can use it. You can learn the ways of The Force and become a Jedi, like Will and I before you."
Jedi ... He supposed it was a bit of a silly sounding word. He briefly wondered where it had even come from, but, then again, who understood the complexities of language and names anyway. She spoke of chance, though, making him sigh inwardly. Chance implied fate, destiny. Destiny implied he had no control over the situation or his actions. What a stupid concept. He brushed over that sentiment quickly.
" We're here because The Jedi Order serves and protects The Galaxy. Our Knights bring criminals to justice, face the enemies of all sentient life, uphold truth and peace, and burden ourselves with the scars of war so that war may never happen to begin with. It's not an easy life, but ... It's a good one," he nodded solemnly, his tone clearly inflecting that he believed that with every ounce of his soul.
" This world is currently on the verge of ... Well, what appears to be civil war, if the situation doesn't get resolved. Myself and Will are here to ensure that things don't come to that point: we're keepers of the peace, and we intend for Dac to stay quite peaceful. Seditious elements are trying to usurp the current government here, make the planet secede from the Galactic Republic. It'd throw the entire world into chaos, killing millions in the ensuing conflict that would surely arise, not to mention leaving Dac relatively defenseless in the case that any less-than-savory elements decide to take it for themselves."
He looked over at Master Son'tir. Gave him a brief nod.
" We aren't about to let that happen."~
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Diva, from Aeons Torn
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Post by Diva, from Aeons Torn on May 25, 2013 6:26:14 GMT -8
Irony was rearing its ugly face today on the surface of Dac. Do-gooders, kindhearted, and serious people discussed saving countless lives. And yet, while they continue the debate the various hospital staff members became overtaken with fear and anxiousness. Reports blared on the holo-news channels: a terrorist incident was developing in a nearby sector of Foamwander. According to the legion of emergency calls, there were already injuries and fatalities on the scene. The FCPD had just been dispatched to the area, and as soon as they had the situation under control ambulatory services would no doubt be called upon to evacuate the wounded -the seriously hurt would no doubt be placed under the care of the Foamwander Medical Facility, the closest hospital to the pandemonium. The staff gussy up, preparing for the panic that would soon embrace them. They intake legal stimulates, others say a quick prayer, and yet even more are nervously excited to test their abilities. These were in general decent people ready to undertake the important job of healing and rehabilitation. But the fire had clearly spread to most of the street, smothering the space between the two nearest avenues with thick clouds. The police sirens wail even louder. A few hovercraft are already floating in the air above this little slice of chaos, hoping to catch the big scoop firsthand.
"!?"
Sudden force, exploding adobe, and a machine man flying. Eralam's attack is heavy and finally manages to catch the Witch flatfooted. The only audible noise coming from her sizzling figure was the satisfying "whump" her body made as it was clearly struck by speeding metal. However, because of the strange angle of his attack, coupled with the fact that Diva was basically "standing" over him, made grabbing a proper toehold on the Mistress of Madness a pipe dream. As his powerful robotic limbs sought a good purchase an intense burst of cold surrounded Diva's body, lowering the temperature down to a ridiculous point beneath sub-zero. The effect would be similar to the Firestarter down there: objects that touch could be frozen with such haste it would appear instantaneous. Obviously, it wasn't enough to harm the Roboninja, but it would be enough to momentarily lock his limbs. This moment was more than enough time for the Ice Queen to twist around their falling figures and violently kick off his metallic form as if he were nothing more than a spring board. Eralam is pushed downward into the center street; Diva launches herself just far enough to arc past to the sidewalks. Unfortunately for her there isn't enough momentum in a move such as this, and she manages to fall into a spot where the flames still burned on the spilled fuel of a now dissolved speed craft. The end? Quaint thought, but not while there was still so much to do.
The figure aflame rolls away from swirling sea of red, orange, and black. There it manages to find a patch of courtyard untouched by the Sith Magic. The body is smoldering with patches of raw flesh steaming and nicely cooked. Parts of its arms -chunks of its thighs- fall off and slap the cement like tomatoes dropped from rooftops. It smokes and it doesn't stink like one would expect flesh to do in this trying situation. Instead, the figure leans back, arms spread, and from it emanates a blood curling call distorted into both the girl's higher pitched ice and something deeper: like the vocal chords were pulled to sound off like a deep-sea monster.
"!AHHHHHHHHHH HAH HAH HAH HAH HAHAHAHAHAHA!"
It laughs. It laughs so fully it appears to gasp desperately for more air to now speak.
"I HAVEN'T HAD THIS MUCH FUN IN AGES!"
With bony claws held together with sinew and throbbing veins she points to both to Eralam and the Sithspawn.
"Wot are your names? Give me your names! More! MORE! MORE! STOP TEASING AND GIVE ME MORE!"
The skinned body trembles with what appears to ecstasy. The Dark Side collects, and the cruelest part of the Force draws to Diva -flooding every fiber of the metaphysical space around them with the dread of an incoming tsunami of complete calamity. Those bony hands crunch into tight fists and what feels like a supermassive black hole beckons from them. It was a incredibly powerful Force Pull, not aimed the main combatants, but on targets far more vulnerable; namely, the hundreds of lives cowering and awaiting help inside the various apartment buildings that were otherwise trapped due to the fire below. Glass panes shatter with the collective force of thunder and dozens upon dozen of lifeforms, of many species, of all kinds of age, fly out from the windows and walls, pulled down into the wailing inferno. The lucky ones are skewered to death or have a head sliced off an errant doorframe; the unlucky tumble into the worst parts of the fire. The cursed were any who managed to fall into the fire and now twisted and turned as the burning took minutes to finish them off. The screaming before had nothing on this; lives outreach in the Force begging for help in the language of muscle spasms but are extinguished in the pinnacle of agony. Natural causes and natural selection had no part in this show, and each death sounded off like violins scratching at a furious pace before snapping. And still, the unluckiest sap of them all was that simple man from earlier, who was just fixing parts on his junker speeder. He has smashed into the duracrete in front of the Howling Monster, and he has broken many bones on the trip. He cannot, in any effective capacity, move. He is too dazed to even speak. Surely, this is was the worst of dreams: the fire, the fighters, and the demon whose glowing blue eyes were alight in hatred. Mr. Mechanic would just wake in the morning and visit a shrink. It would be no problem. And in his mind as Diva kneels down over him and uses her fleshy arms to raise him to her now gaping maw, which with glittering white and pointed teeth endlessly buzz and remind him of power tool, he is thinking everything will be a-ok.
!CHOMP!
He shrieked as the pain flooded his senses. He screamed like an infant abandoned, and these high pitched whines began to weaken into whimpers and gurgling gasps, as the Age-old Queen took her fill of his soul. Finally, the fun truly begins; finally, her "skin" of muscle and vein begins to bubble and pop. It starts at her head, and then the boiling effect takes to her entire body.
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Post by Deleted on May 25, 2013 6:56:35 GMT -8
A lesser being would have been roasted alive by the heat of the inferno that Eralam found himself in. But then again, a lesser being wouldn't have survived long enough to become the goddamn Robot Space Ninja in the first place. The heat, pure thermal energy, is fuel for one such as Eralam. Too much to take in all at once, and prolonged exposure would overload his being with power, and his very soul would explode like a dying star, ripping a hole in the Force. But a master of Absorb knows better than to take it all in. Instead, the power flows through him like water through a sieve, dammed up enough for a clever fellow to use, but spilling out before it has a chance to cause any damage. Eralam's presence, as ancient and deep as the very ocean that this city floated upon, floods the area. Centuries were mere specs in his eye. He had seen civilizations rise and fall. Hell, he had given a few of them a nudge in both directions.
Eralam knew the effect his magnified presence could have on the minds of the sensitive. Somehow though, he didn't expect the thing at the center of the maelstrom of darkness in front of him to care.
"I am many things," he said as he strode out of the fire, a walking cliche from every bad action movie ever. "I am the oldest Shard, the first Iron Knight." Not necessarily true, but damned if there was anyone alive who could question his claim. "I was a Whill, a Shaman even, and now I am an outcast. I sit as a judge in the arena where the brave and the foolhardy clash for supremacy in mortal combat."
In a flash, his revolver is in his hand. The ancient pistol barks out in the language of death, nine shots. Nine of the suffering citizens find their wish for an end granted. He stands in front of Diva now, perhaps ten feet away. On the purely visual level, the difference between the two beings is almost comical. One, a charred facsimile of life, the other a robotic monolith. Both completely at odds with the massive swirls of Force energy; one a black miasma of purest dark, the other a font of pure power, utterly unconcerned with notions of either light or dark. It was a miracle that the Jedi on this watery rock had yet to detect it; two nukes going off would hardly have been less subtle.
"I am Eralam."
The universe wept under the weight of the melodrama.
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Diva, from Aeons Torn
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Post by Diva, from Aeons Torn on May 25, 2013 8:02:21 GMT -8
It appeared that the beginning of his introduction went unheeded. The ghoulish sprite was far too concerned with slowly cradling the meal in between her arms until it was quite drained. He could have probably dolled out his life story and it would've fell upon no one's ears -except maybe the Firestarter. Eralam showcased the true spirit of the gray side, and paced out nine quick shots to send nice people to Chaos and Harmony, rather than attempt to save them and send them to the nearby medical facility. While he showed adroit marksmanship, she let the now dead mechanic drop. All would appear to proceeding as planned. Diva's flesh continued to bubble and shift itself -now appearing black and unnaturally shadowed. But then the Roboninja said his name.
"ERALAM?!"
Across her boiling and quivering mass many eyeballs form in the most unlikely of spots. They all are stretched in bewilderment, each glowing with an intensity that could match the fire that surrounded them.
"A Whill?"
The darkness stands.
"Are you here to judge me, then? Is it that final day already?"
There is a touch of apprehension in that distorted voice, and now the eyes slant into a state of hyper-attentiveness.
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Post by Deleted on May 25, 2013 8:34:09 GMT -8
Fact: it is physically impossible for a droid to roll its photoreceptors. That never stopped Eralam.
"No, I'm not here to judge you. We're outside of the arena and in the real universe. I gave up the right to judge people here a long time ago."
It was fascinating to watch this burned and battered being feast. At least, that's what Eralam assumed she was doing. He had encountered many odd things before, including those who fed off the life energy of other beings. This one, however, was a bit different. Most of the Whills he had served with would only look at the death and destruction she caused, and had one been here, a literal judgment would have been a very real possibility. The Shard, however, had parted with them for a variety of reasons, this being one of them. They would only see the deeds, he saw the potential. Kuroro, back when she had been known as Chloro, was a murderer and a terrorist. Now, she was a psychologically damaged stalker who would kill at the drop of a hat and never know why, and had a destructive potential that topped anything that the Shard had witnessed from her before. Killing her would have been the smart thing to do. It would have also been a waste.
There was endless possibility wrapped up in this seemingly demonic female. He knew better than to think that this one could be captured or controlled or even contained. But maybe, just maybe, she could be aimed. The beginnings of a plan began to spark through his mechanical mind.
"I would like to know your name, if you don't mind. I've met many a being over the eons, but I think you might possibly be unique."
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Diva, from Aeons Torn
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Post by Diva, from Aeons Torn on May 25, 2013 9:04:46 GMT -8
It takes about 30 seconds for the Demon-child to come up with a response. For whatever reason the question itself provokes thought into the beast -not because she was some higher form of intelligence, but because the answer was rather complicated.
"She called me Diva. It's all I can remember now."
Buying time was always in vogue, but now the starting wave of first responders were on scene trying to create a perimeter around the block. The few police officers in the immediate realize the severity of what they were dealing with, and rather then rush in and die needlessly, decide to take defensive positions by their various forms of transport, waiting for either Special Tactics teams to show up and pacify the antagonists, or hopefully something bigger.
"DIVA! Because, get this, she thought I could sing!"
The black shape chuckles, and the eyes splay in merriment.
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