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Post by Whill Shaman Erevis on Apr 9, 2013 11:03:42 GMT -8
The Undercity was a mechanical wilderness on the ground level beneath the upper, middle and lower levels of Taris. It was a dark, wild area inhabited by the Outcasts—people whose predecessors were eternally banished from the surface as a form of criminal punishment.
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Tiro Saul
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Post by Tiro Saul on Apr 24, 2013 13:17:31 GMT -8
*Taris's under city held the darker crowds of Taris. It's criminal society ruled these streets, and the law stood away from the under city. Long ago under Ravens rule I walked this part of the planet quite often. I had loved it here. Now I returned after a long absence,Raven long gone. I didn't even look the same, my clean shaved face now had a full beard, and had a scar that ran from my right temple down and across to my chin. Who ruled here I could careless, just wanting to once again step on familiar ground. Making my way around I saw a familiar place to sit and drink. Entering the place I took a seat corner closes to the entrance. Ordering a corellian ale I sat there and listened to its patrons talk as I enjoyed my ale.
A few hours past and I heard rumors of the galaxy, disgruntled workers, and just plain complaints. Having had my fair share of Ale, I paid my tab and decided to leave. Once again entering the street I noticed the sun had fallen and it was now night time. Wiping my hands on the cloth hanging around my waste, I gazed up in the sky. Slowly I started off down the street humming to myself. Where to Next? Could it be possible that Ravens old Palace stood, maybe that is where I should go next.
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Post by Dragus on Apr 24, 2013 13:50:01 GMT -8
As night descended, the seedier elements of galactic society came out to play. Not just the criminal scum that harangued the justice system, but the truly wicked, warped, and depraved. One such being was drawn to Taris, though as of yet it couldn't say why. The malevolent fey, that which was known as the Darkside of the Force, acted in ways most mysterious. Even for one well practiced in treading its ruinous currents, the path was often pitted with uncertainties. Yet this creature of those unfathomable depths didn't dwell long on the 'why', nor did it resist the pull that drew it to this world. It gave in willingly, almost submissively really, though one would be wise to refrain from calling this being a servant.
A half block ahead and to the right of where Tiro now walked, a female scream shattered the otherwise calm silence of this particular street. In an alley, dark and ominous, something most foul was performing an act of unspeakable cruelty. The feminine shrieks grew louder, as did the pleas for help. They went unheeded by the creature in the alley that besieged her, laughing maniacally as strips of flesh were peeled from her body, leaving bloody markings that formed some intricate pattern.
It was tempting bait for any would-be hero.
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Post by Tiro Saul on Apr 25, 2013 16:28:23 GMT -8
*Even in the silence of the night, the ale seemed to be playing a trick on me. Or so I thought, the first scream I thought was just the drinks playing with me. But then there was more, the louder they got the more sober I became. Each scream cutting to my bones like a cold chill running up your spine I shivered at each one. The more I walked the louder it got, I was getting closer to it. Part of me wanted to ignore it and walk away, but I knew I would go to it. If I could help, I would. Closing in on the screaming I turned into a side street.
There the source was. A women appearing to be your tortured my a large creature.
It didn't appear human so approaching slowly I let my hands hang down by my sides, ready to snatch my sabers. The whole situation felt wrong, this thing was something else. I could feel Ashala trying to warn me but I hushed that voice, wanting to help the women get free of this thing. When I was only a mere 4 or 5 feet away, I stopped and looked in to the things face shrouded in darkness.*
"Let the women go now, and nothing will happen."
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Post by Dragus on Apr 26, 2013 3:39:46 GMT -8
As though on cue, when Tiro finished speaking the fiend looked up, revealing its wicked self. A saurian visage gazed back at the freelancer, with scales the colour of midnight and eyes like pools of blood. Scaly lips split and widened into a menacing grin, displaying a mouth full of dagger shaped incisors. If one was well versed in galactic xenobiology, they might recognize this beast as a Barabel. One bloodied hand ending in sharp talons held the bleeding wreck of a girl up, her legs having long since lost the strength to support her. Those claws glistened in the moon light, slick with the woman's life fluids. In the other hand the lizard held what appeared to be a strip of flesh he had carved off the poor female's thigh, drip-dropping beads of crimson. Dragus lifted the strip above his razor filled maw, then snatched it from the air with his long forked tongue, sucking it into his gullet with one wet slurp.
"Nothing?" He hissed, smacking his lips in satisfaction. The Sith shook his head and pushed the bleeding girl towards Tiro, almost throwing her at him. "Ssso sssayz you. Siss ssiss ssiss." The incessant sissing that amounted to laughter for the Barabel was followed up by the saurian pointing back the way the freelancer had come.
Voiced sounded in the night, as human as the bleeding girl now in Tiro's care. A group of four men appeared at the entrance of the alley, holding glow sticks in one hand and clubs in the other.
Local: "Elana?" Said one, calling the girl by name. Shock appeared on the man's face as his eyes spotted his daughter, now clutched by Tiro, bleeding on the ground....and all over his hands. "You monster!" Cried the man, which was shortly followed by shouts and jeers from the other three men that joined him. A simple case of mistaken identity, they now believed Tiro the villain that had absconded with their daughter and visited those terrible wounds upon her flesh. Of Dragus there was no sign, for as soon as the girl was handed off, he had stepped back into the alley, blending in with the shadow. He watched from his place of concealment, as much amused as he was curious.
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Post by Tiro Saul on Apr 26, 2013 9:01:58 GMT -8
*Looking the abomination in the face I saw it could careless what threats I used. I did not believe I had encountered one of his kind but I knew of them. And the site of him peeling flesh from this women ad devouring it made me sick. Even as I stepped forward to stop him I felt the body of the women press I to as if she had been thrown, and I immediately felt that her legs would not support her. Now as I looked back at him he seemed to be laughing or, as close as a reptile could. It pointed behind my and as I turned to see I heard the voices now joining us in this street.
Hearing their accusations, them calling me a monster. How could they I hadn't done anything but save her. Besides the true monsters was behind me. Yet as I wiped around to look at it, there was nothing. Nothing but Darkness.
Shit Tiro what have u gotten yourself Into now? I turned towards the angry group of men they were now moving towards me.
Local: What have u done to my Daughter u Monster?
I have done nothing it was something else a Barabel I only came to stop him after hearing this women's screams.
Local: LIES!!!!! U are the only one here. I will kill u for what you have done to my Daughter!
As if on cue the other three men shout there approval. They all moved in on me with speed. I had no choice but to throw the girl aside as gently as I could. Which from the appearance caused her father to grrow more irate then he already was. As they closed in, I didn't want to hurt them but I had to do something. As the first man threw a punch I stepped in grabbing his out stretched are and putting my back against his front I pulled on his arm and bent forward launching the man down the alley into its darkness, using Ashala to aid me in my throw.
With him gone I went to turn to the other three men but befor I could turn around I felt one of them collide into my side, his arms wrapping around me as we not plunged to the ground. Then the beating started I felt the one on top of me trying to punch my sides but do to are struggle... Well more like my struggle to get up his blows were light. But the two who had been Standing one of which was the women's father wailed Into my sides with kicks. After a few more hits I felt someone kick me in the side of my head then there was red, nothing but the beautiful warm Red.
Both my hand faced upwards into the mans side as I gathered the force into the palms, and like a flood I felt Ashala gather there. And with a slight push I threw out all the power I could. The man groaned and the flew into the air above me. As the man went flying the other two stopped kicking only for that slight moment of shock. A look of horror on there face. But it had been just enough for me to rock on to my shoulders and then throw my legs out causing me to flip off my back and on to my feet in a crouched position.
Both men looked at me, but to them it seemed as if ideas gone, and with a twitch of my hands the face showed their horror. For now both my sabers were gripped tightly as there activation switches were flicked.
Snap/Hiss
Their teal, and orange blades now humming their song of death. The men tried to escape, they tried to flee. But befor they could move I was upon them with a swing from left to right cutting one man in half at the waste, and a jab forward with my left saber I jabbed the teal blade through the back of the Fathers Skull. His body hanging there limp for just a moment befor I Deactivated the saber and let his body fall to the ground with a thud. Deactivating my other saber I placed them back on my side were they belonged and fell to my knees. In my mind all I could here was Thats it my clone, that's it. and the red faded away.
Looking around I saw the two dead men two were missing. I couldn't believe it. I did not mean to kill them, but I lost control once again. And this is what happens. I stood up slowly looking into the darkness of the alley.
Why?
I asked.. The question seemed so silly to ask, especially to the darkness. Yet now I was filled with anger, anger at myself for allowing this to happen. Sadness for the death I had just so unnecessarily weaved.
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Post by Dragus on Apr 26, 2013 9:51:33 GMT -8
It always struck Dragus as curious how men of a sound moral foundation could so easily give into their baser urges. When presented with a supple and eager beauty, a husband of many years would break and give in to adulterous desires. When presented with a delicious morsel such as chocolate cake, the fat child does not relent from stuffing his face. And Tiro, a man clearly with enough martial prowess to escape this situation without resorting to murder, gave into his more violent nature and slaughtered the men who sought naught but justice for a ruined female. Had he expected more? Perhaps, but it was not his place to judge. His kind didn't prescribe to societal norms and values. When it came to sensation, to surrendering oneself to instinct and desire, morality was pushed aside without so much as a second thought.
Claws fully extended, the Barabel leaped from the shadows with the impressive physical agility of his race. His talons dug into the brick alley-way wall, anchoring him above the gory scene, his feral saurian grin still spread wide. He shifted, clinging upside down to the wall so that his tail flicked back and forth above him, the glinting of a glass blade strapped to the tip clearly visible. He hissed, deep and raspy, then responded in an accusatory tone.
"Why?" He growled. "Becaussse they dessserved it. Becaussse it felt good. Becaussse you wanted to. Ssiss, ssiss, ssiss." As if it wasn't already clear, Dragus was of the Dark side of the Force. His aura projected cruelty and he stunk to high heaven of sin and depravity. It wasn't anger that surrounded him, as it was with most Sith, but pure delight. A sadist, one that drank in the desperation and hopeless of others, and spat out only suffering in return.
The lizard's forked tongue snaked out from between dagger shaped teeth, flicking back and forth in the air, spattering little flecks of blood and saliva across the alley. His slitted gaze was now more like two bales of witch fire, illuminated in the dimness of the alley.
"Men have done far worssse for lessser reasssonz. Yet you regret your actionsss. I can sssenssse az much, human. A pity, for what iz done can not be undone, nor can forgivenesss be found. At leassst not on Tarisss." He released one hand from the wall and jabbed a clawed finger towards the corpses on the ground. "Thessse two will never ssspeak again, but what of the two you let get away? They will recant what they have ssseen here to otherz, if they aren't doing ssso already. Monssster they will sssay, murderer...." He motioned to the girl on the ground with a jerk of his head. Her chest still rose and fell, albeit far more shallow than before. Dragus put emphasis behind the next syllable. "...violator. Ssiss, ssiss, ssiss."
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Post by Tiro Saul on Apr 26, 2013 14:57:24 GMT -8
I was surprised to see the Reptile leap to the wall from the shadows. So you have been watching this whole time. The dark side just rolling off of him. Why ask a darksider anything, they acted I emotions. Should I know I was a clone of that very nature. As I watched him hanging there accusing me of wanting to kill and enjoying it. I couldn't argue, I did enjoy these thing but not like this. They deserved better. Yet we're pawns in yet another Darksiders game.
Turning to look at the two now lifeless bodies. I realized that the Reptile spoke the truth these two would be silent forever but the other two now free possibly. But the others I cared less for. Looking back at the reptile I stared back into its eyes. He seemed to be enjoying this so much. But all I felt now was anger.
The two that might possibly live can tell what they want I don't care. I no longer call this place home so, let the Taris people think what they want. I did merely what I had the right to do.
Right to do? O how that lie seemed to slip so easily. And what do u mean forgiveness?i went over to we're the women was out cold. She was still alive, but she would be Scared for the rest of her life because of it.
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Post by Dragus on Apr 28, 2013 6:45:00 GMT -8
Releasing the wall, the Barabel dropped to the ground, landing on all fours. His wicked reptilian eyes focused on the woman, causing his incisor filled maw to salivate and drool. He was careful to stay out of Tiro's reach, well aware of the clone's anger. It was highly likely he resented the Sith for placing him in such a position; however, Dragus couldn't help but detect the briefest hint of satisfaction from the freelancer. He knew what he had done was wrong yet he felt pride in the fact that he punished those that had wrongly accused him.
"Thisss one ssspeak of forgivenesss of ssself." He licked his lips. "You may not care what the people of Tarisss think, but can you jussstify these actionz to yourssself?"
Dragus stood up and walked over to one of the dead men, stepping over the corpse before squatting down on top of its chest. He pressed a clawed digit against the dead man's right eye lid and peeled it back, examining the lifeless orb underneath.
"Were their actionz ssso different from your own when you confronted me? If you had attacked me and I had ssstruck you down, would I ssstand morally sssuperior for it? A woman waz in trouble, they came to ressscue her, and you gutted them like dogsss. Did a sssimple cassse of missstaken identity warrant their execution?"
These were all questions the Sith was certain Tiro already knew the answer to. Though the clone had been provoked by these men, he had taken it too far. He prodded the dead man's eye with a claw, piercing the retina and prying the orb free of the socket with a single flick of his finger. He hesitated a moment, then popped the eye into his mouth, chewing as he continued to speak.
"Only you can anssswer thessse questionsss. Persssonally I rather enjoyed the disssplay. You're quite handy with thossse lightsabersss. It ssspeaks to the sssort of perssson you are." Munch, munch, munch. "You're jussst like me."
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Post by Tiro Saul on Apr 29, 2013 13:46:58 GMT -8
I head the reptile land on the ground behind me, i kept and eye on him. Currently the women was still alive. Yet I was sure he would still try to have some kind of fun with her if I did not stand by her for now. Yes he was right I cared not what the people of Taris thought, but I believed I might some day forgive myself. I knew the only way for sure, would to be to slay the beast behind me that caused it. Yet for some reason I felt deep in my stomach I could not take him if I tried to. Maybe i had been a bit rash in my action, but I lost control. It was something I knew i had an issue with, I have spent many years working on it. I stood up turning towards the reptile seeing the disgusting sight of him playing with the dead bodies.
The difference between you and me, is that I was not intentionally causing harm.
I could feel my blood boil the more he compared me to him. Nothing was the same, he represented everything I had hated at one point in my life. The reason I left my old master, my other half. Now here I was being taunted by that very aspect, surrounded by the death he had caused.. Maybe he was right, maybe this was the only path I could follow. Everywhere I went I fought, war raged with every friend I had. Every group i had resided in. Was death the only course I knew. I enjoyed fight I always had, its why I never sided with the Jedi. Why I could never be apart of them. I never felt more alive then when I was fighting.
The kind of person I am? No I am not like you, But maybe....Maybe you can make me like you.... No you can't...
Did i really just ask for him to make me into him. All these years spent, would be wasted. But Why did I feel it was right. Gah why did this monster have to appear now. To me of all places. Reaching to my head I ran my hands through my hair sighing. I didn't know what I wanted anymore. There was nothing left, to cling to. After all maybe I should become the very thing, that old crippled man wanted. O how I can just hear his laughing now. What a waste.
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Post by Dragus on Apr 30, 2013 3:34:34 GMT -8
Maybe he could? No he couldn't? That sounded an awful lot like a challenge, and there were few things this particular Sith enjoyed more than a good challenge. It wouldn't be easy. Tiro was already proving to be a tough nut to crack. He was able to justify his actions, at least partially, so pushing him over with guilt was out of the question. The best course of action given what he knew about the man would probably be to show him what he could have if he became like Dragus, if only so that he believed he could use that power to strike the saurian and all his wicked kind down. Then slowly, as his connection to the Darkside grew, its corrupting influence would warp him into the very thing he hated. Or that was the theory at least. Either way it seemed like a good bit of fun. Unfortunately it meant that Famine would now have to perform some physical exertions and give Tiro a good snot-kicking, if only to make him desire to be stronger.
"Letz find out." He hissed in reply before rising from the corpse. Pulling back the tattered folds of his robe, the barabel withdrew the hooked silver cylinder from his belt, holding it down at his side with his left hand. Shifting his thumb, he pressed the ignition trigger, causing the blade to ignite with an audible snap/hiss. A crackling crimson beam of death emerged from the hilt's emitter, extending out to 1.2 meters in length. It was louder than most lightsaber blades, due in part to the piece of dragite stone that served as one half of its dual-crystal pair. The Saurian Sith lifted the hilt over his head, clutching it with two hands in a classic Shii-Cho horse stance. Then he rapidly advanced, gliding towards Tiro with such speed that it looked as if his feet hadn't even touched the ground. Down came the lightsaber in a powerful vertical slash, looking to split the freelancer in two where he stood.
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Post by Tiro Saul on Apr 30, 2013 11:39:08 GMT -8
I barely heard his words as the corner of my eyes caught the slight movement from the Reptile. All I was able to do was to spin towards my right out of the way of his vertical slash. Stumbling back a few steps, my mind raced. I noticed his saber was different then mine, different then most I had seen. Curiosity would have bitten at me if not for the fact, it was now trying to cleave me in two. Now he was attacking me? O how I was going to enjoy this one. Calling my saber to my right hand, my body felt like it was starting to burn as I flicked the activation of my saber, bringing its Teal blade to life with a hiss. First he caused this tragic scene now he bared blade at me. I felt every muscle in my body constrict, then loosen. I felt like I needed this more then anything. Ashala pressing me on, I opened myself to her embrace feeling her wash over my body.
First them, now me?Advancing upon the Reptile I started bringing my saber in wide arch's from my left side to my right, then back to my right, and so forth. No wanting to give him the Idea of my strike just yet. As I came within striking distance my saber arched once more towards my right, as I gripped the last part of the hilt with my left hand a slashed horizontally at his body putting as much power into as I could hoping to slash his body in half just above where a humans navel would be. Even if he blocked it, I wanted him to feel that I would not be as easy a foe as the women before me.
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Post by Dragus on May 1, 2013 4:46:46 GMT -8
Famine was pleased to see Tiro had some skill with a lightsaber, for it might just be what spared the freelancer from a quick death, something Dragus had no desire to give. He much preferred the slow and painful kind. Yet he would not relent if he saw an opening; weakness was something he could not abide. Not in himself and certainly not in others. This duel would play out to his satisfaction.After his first strike missed, Dragus turned and followed after Tiro, facing him anew as his opponent stepped back and activated his own lightsaber. The ruthless reptilian's slitted pupils shifted in their blood red orbs, following the blade of his foe as Tiro sought to confound him with fancy sword play. Rather then fall prey, the barabel simply raised his lightsaber again, once more holding it in a two handed grip above his head. Shii-Cho might not have been the flashiest of forms, but it did play to the strength of the crystal combo in Dragus' lightsaber. When Tiro's blade came across in a horizontal slash, Dragus' blade came down again in a second vertical slash, only this time for the purpose of blocking instead of attacking. As the two lightsaber blades collided, a resounding 'crack' was elicited from Dragus' blade, audible to the point of being painful to ones ear. It didn't stop there, as the blade continued to resonate loudly, threatening to deafen them both. To his credit, there had been strength put into Tiro's attack, though the barabel's response matched it equally.That was benefit another benefit of Shii-Cho. The styles reliance on a two handed approach to lightsaber combat allowed more force to be put behind every strike and block. Even as the air molecules between them vibrated with the resonance of Dragus' blade, the saurian Sith let out a savage roar, attempting to further disorient his opponent. At that near distance the rancid stench of the Sith's breath would be notable, like a putrid combination of soured milk and rotting meat. Pieces of human flesh caught in his teeth shook free, expelled from his razor toothed maw by the blast of pestilent hot air, joined by flecks of saliva and blood. To face the foul lord of Famine, one did not only have to contend with the wickedness of his action, but a pure offensive on the senses as well. Sight, smell, and sound were as much a weapon in his arsenal as the lightsaber in his hand, or the dagger strapped to his tail. Speaking of which...As he held his opponent's lightsaber at bay with his own, Dragus' serpentine tail slipped around his right side, bringing with it the wintrium shikkar affixed to its tip like some sort of sinister pike. Rarely did the barabel's opponents consider the appendage to be for anything other than show, but to Famine it was no different than any other limb, thus it was often a surprise when his opponent's found out that this too he would use to fight with. The glass dagger whipped through the air as the tail snaked around his right side, then slashed towards the outer side of Tiro's left ankle. The tail would have otherwise been just out of reach, but the dagger added an extra twelve inches, enough to potentially separate the whole foot from the leg.
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Post by Tiro Saul on May 9, 2013 17:42:29 GMT -8
Dragus stood close to me which I new H&r would. But I couldn't figure out why he had turned to attacking me. Today was not my day. I knew the reptile would be strong but when his saber collided with mine I felt the vibration up my arms. But that was not what caught me off guard no, the sound that came afterwords did. I shut my saber off and jumped backwards. Almost stumbling as i landed. Maybe it was the sound that caused it, or maybe it was the glint of some kind of weapon attached to his tail.
I looked down see that their was now i alce in my pants. what the hell was going on here? I mildly Hoped Dragus strike downwards would cary enough wait that the sudden disengage of my saber would cause him to lose balance for a second.
My ears now throbbed and his growl had not helped. It felt as if I had been slapped open handed on both ears. And when I thought for just a moment that I would be alright I caught wiff of his foul breath. Dear god he smelt as if he rummaged the sewers here. But the smell I could handle. The noise was another thing, where it came from no clue but I needed to find away to avoid it. Mind u I had to figure out where it came from befor I could avoid it.
You are by far the foulest thing I have ever meet. Did your mother hatch u in a sewer? Gah how anything to stand to be near u his hard to believe.
Now it was my chance to attack. I charged forward bringing my saber up high over my head and with aid from Ashala I began my onslaught of attacks. First bringing my saber downwards in a diagonal slash from right to left, and the drawing it backwards and out towards me left I brought in across horizontally again for a slash left-right aimed at his mid section.
Hopefully the attack would push my opponent backwards I needed time to think. To figure out where this sound wax coming from. Though I was nervous and unsure I kept a smile on my face. Never show weakness, never show hesitation.
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Post by Dragus on May 10, 2013 9:05:20 GMT -8
Did his mother hatch him in a sewer? That would have been an improvement over the way he was actually birthed. Dragus was born in a tube, grown in a cloning vat in the forgotten laboratories of his genetic father. He wouldn't be alive at all if it weren't for the power surge that shut down the pods hibernation sequence, thus awakening that which was never meant to know sentient life, forever darkening the future of the galaxy. He had no mother, though the part about sewers was near enough to the truth. Famine did tend to spend a lot of time in damp dark dirty places, the filth thick waters of sewers numbering among them.
Irritation was among the first of the emotions he felt when Tiro broke off his attack, for his calculation had been right, and Dragus found himself momentarily thrown off balance as the strength he had been putting behind his saber was met with no resistance. He stumbled forwards, then stopped himself, catching the ground with his talons while planting his tail flat to the ground in order to further secure his stance. Up came his lightsaber again, just in time to meet the freelancers diagonal slash with one of his own. Where Tiro's first attack came across diagonally from right to left, Dragus' blade came up from his left side, slashing upwards in a diagonal slash from left to right, briefly making contact with Tiro's lightsaber before the freelancer moved into his follow up strike. Yet again it was enough to elicit a sharp 'crack' from Dragus' lightsaber, the resonation intensifying anew.
It was unfair to say that Famine was immune to the sonic vibrations, for he heard them just as surely as Tiro, even if he was careful about directing the worst of the sound towards his opponent. But unlike Tiro, Dragus was used to it, having been partially deafened by his own weapon in nearly every lightsaber contest he had entered into. A bacta bath would be needed to repair any permanent damage the saber's vibrations might cause, and sure enough pain pierced his ears when it cracked, sometimes bleeding them. But to a Sith this was not an impediment. Pain, when courted correctly, produced power to be harnessed by those strong enough to endure the suffering.
When Famine's blade came up, he twisted his wrists and brought the lightsaber back down, turning his body counter clockwise just as Tiro stepped into his horizontal strike. As with their first exchange, Dragus' vertical slash met Tiro's horizontal slash, both energy blades catching in the middle with near matched strength. 'Crack', again the blade of Dragus resonated, sending sound waves crashing over them both. A mad cackle escaped the Sith's throat, shaky in its delivery as the vibrations distorted his voice. Pressing against the ground with his heels and his tail, Dragus attempted to move ahead a step, angling his blade forwards so that it leaned slightly on top of Tiro's in order to push it back and down. Meanwhile, Dragus leaned his snout forwards, snapping his razor tooth filled maw in front of his opponent's face.
A disconcerting scare tactic to be sure, though his teeth were sharp enough to back up his bark with some bite, should his opponent fall into reach. There was little he enjoyed more than sinking his incisors into an opponent's neck and tearing out their throat in a deluge of blood and fleshy bits.
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Post by Tiro Saul on May 22, 2013 15:59:02 GMT -8
My lips curled upwards forming a smile as I watched dragus fall forward. Though he caught himself, little triumphs was what I needed. Though my victory my first was short lived, as strike came across Dragus Saber I heard that resounding Crack. I felt my hand slipped slight as my horizontal slash came, and yet again there was another loud crack my ears now throbbing and all i could hear was the high pitch ringing in my ears. Causing more pain then I had expected. When I felt dragus pressing against my saber I was barely able to press back. I was barely able to hold against him as he lunged forward Snapping his jaw.
I did the only thing I could think of, and deactivated my saber and once again retreated backwards before dropping one knee bringing up my right hand up towards my ears. My left hand clenched my saber as I leaned on my balled fist.
My ears throbbed and felt dizzy. Though I've finally figured out where the sound was coming from. The reptile must have put a crystal that when it empacted with something else it resignated with this ear splitting sound. But now how to avoid it, I had a few Ideas but one of them involved using a technique that I was not use to using in combat, unless I could strip his saber away from him, and destroy it. Slowly I stood up swaying just a bit still feeling dizzy. I spread my legs apart stabilzing myself as I rotated my saber around igniting the blade with another snap/Hiss I looked at the reptile and motioned him forward. So far the sound was the only thing bothering me, and once I could find a way around it I would be set.[/b]
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Dragus
The Sith Eternal
In front of the Empire, to all you Vader haters out there. We'll blow your planet up.
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Post by Dragus on May 23, 2013 13:45:56 GMT -8
Famine felt a note of satisfaction as his foe fell back and took a knee, though that was soon replaced with annoyance when Tiro got back to his feet and motioned for the Sith to attack anew.
This wouldn't end well for him. The human was quick and had more than some skill, but he was outpaced, outclassed, and soon to find himself outmatched. The barabel, for all his savagery and brutal intent, didn't want to destroy yet another useful tool. He had already disposed of his last set, using them as fodder against his brothers. It was time to rebuild his ranks, fill the quota of souls with strong able bodied Sith. This freelancer, this...human, had potential. There was strength in him to be brought out and harnessed, then turned against the Order's enemies. More importantly, Dragus' enemies, some of which included members of the Order. Like he had of Gaiscioch, Rook, Niver, Viox, and so many others, he would craft another dark disciple and put them to the test. If they rose and proved of worth, all the better. If they failed, as many had failed the dreaded lord of Famine, then he would dispose of them. This stallion before him had spirit, but first he needed to be broken in and brought low.
Releasing his right hand from his lightsaber hilt, the saurian Sith lowered his lightsaber down to his left side, forming a pool of steaming liquid mush where the tip touched the alley floor. The mad cackle of the Sith paused, though his lips were still peeled back to reveal a feral grin full of teeth, forked tongue flickering in amusement. When he spoke, his tone was merry, almost cheerful in delivering the fiend's wicked thoughts.
"What'z thisss? Tired already? I haven't even ssstarted yet. If thisss iz the bessst you can do, then perhapz you should sssurrender now and sssave me the trouble of tearing you apart piece by bloody piece. Ha ha ha ha. Really, it'z quite pathetic. You, a human, think you can ssstand up to me? I'm almossst insssulted." Mad laughter continues. "I'll tell you what. Throw me your lightsssaber and I'll ssspare your life. Come on, hand it over."
An obvious taunt, but what couldn't be seen was the invisible attack taking place. In the ethereal, what one might see if they saw through the eyes of the Force, a series of dark tendrils extended from the Famine Lord. He exerted his will, which was considerable at that, focusing his mind on wearing down his opponent's resistance. It was like a cold whisper in the Force, baying Tiro to give up, to fight no more. Jedi used mind tricks, Sith used mind control. While Tiro was too strong willed to be possessed in such a manner, he could be worn down over time. Even stone eventually erodes when kissed by the wind.
Behind him, Dragus' tail and the dagger blade attached to it began to flick back and forth, setting a rhythm. Back and forth, back and forth, right to left, over and over again. It was almost hypnotic, mesmerizing if one was foolish enough to allow their eyes to follow it.
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on May 24, 2013 8:20:24 GMT -8
==Second Battle of Taris: Mandalorian Wars - 3,961 BBY==
Deafening explosions radiated throughout the Under City. Death silently paced, gently touching and subsequently claiming the lives of the young men, on both sides of this conflict. Screams of men violated the serenity that this planet once knew in what left like a lifetime ago. Long before the stain of war seeped into this, newfound, hell.
Above the Republic Army, the Navy was engaged in a heated exchange with the Neo-Crusaders who, until then, dominated the skies above Taris. When some of the larger starcraft exploded, you could see a small shimmer of light above and it was a beautiful, yet morbid, sight to behold.
After long hours, the Republic Army was able to drive back the Mando Crusaders. It took some skillful maneuvering, but eventually the Army was able to cut off half of the Crusader's forces while simultaneously flanking them. It was the benefit of having overwhelming numbers. General Shkuratov, the commander of the Republic Forces, took note of how few Mando Forces there were with paranoid, yet delighted, interest.
General Shkuratov was an older man, almost sixty years in age. His coutenance always seemed to be that of anger or annoyance. His voice was deep and powerful and his very presence was intimidating. The General was always well dressed and, unlike some of the other Generals in the Army, never engaged in the spoils of war. Although, it should be noted that the General found other, more deviant yet private, ways to enjoy a good victory in the field of battle - just ask his daughters and wife. What they were forced to do after any victory of his was almost unspeakable.
Let's not get too ahead of ourselves.
The General beckoned for his staff as he stated, with deep timbre to his voice, with his trademark look of anger."These Mandalorians... this is supposed to be a stronghold of theirs. Their meager display of resistance in this conflict suggests to me that this might be over sooner rather than later." One of his staff spoke up, his son, Radden Shkuratov. Radden was roughly twenty-five years of age and found himself holding a rank that most do not achieve in their entire career within the Army; Lt. Colonel. No doubt, it was due to the fact that his father was well-connected, and feared, to the point that General Shkuratov could get away with such things. Radden was as dark and twisted as his father but in more overt ways and his father loathed him for it. Their relationship was contentious at best.
Radden was tall and slender, much like his father was at that age. It should be noted that, even though the elder Shkuratov put on some weight in his old age, he was still every bit the strong warrior that he was in his youth. And though Radden looked much like his father, he had his mother's coloring of hair. His dark brown eyebrows and hair were quite the contrast to his ghostly white skin.
"Father. Could this not be a trap to lull us into a false sense of security?" Radden questioned.
The very sound of his son's voice clearly aggravated The General a fierce grimace streaked across the face of the elder Shkuratov. The General sighed loudly and for great length until he finally replied, still with his eyes closed. "Radden, if I wanted counsel from you I would have asked for it. However, seeing as you are resolute in pretending to be a wise strategist, I'll briefly entertain your thought." The General stated before he finally opened his eyes and coldly grinned at his son. The others in the General's staff fell silent. "No, Radden. Not only is it highly unlikely that this is some sort of a trick, the Neo-Crusaders are about as smart as you. Thusly, we haven't a thing to fear. You would do well to remember, Radden, that a man learns much by listening and observing and...less... through talking. Continuously." The General's words were laced with anger and his condescending tone was not at all lost on his son who returned a clearly angered gaze of his own as his brow folded whilst his eyes locked on his father's. There was something that brought them off his father's own, perhaps the realization that they were in the company of others, or something else. Regardless, the younger Shkuratov simply yielded to his father and did not press the matter any further.
"Sir! The Mandalorians are in full retreat. Their Army is being evacuated and their Navy has moved deeper into the Outer Rim. The Admiral is requesting to pursue the enemy." One of the Sergeants spoke up, having received the report as the two Shkuratov men were engaged in an awkward exchange. The elder Shkuratov brought his eyes to the young Sergeant with a chilling grin. "Tell Admiral Varr... forget it. Put him on the screen here. I will talk to him personally." The General requested. Within minutes, Admiral Varr was presented to the General and his staff, as they stood in a make-shift camp in the, now, Republic stronghold of the Under City on Taris.
"General Shkuratov." Admiral Varr stated with voice of a man who spent years smoking a dozen cigarettes a day; which, indeed he had. Admiral Chanis Varr was a man of no more than forty-six standard years himself. Unlike General Shkuratov, Admiral Varr was intimidating only in appearance. Varr was, by all other measures, a fairly warm man. However, if one were to simply judge him by his looks, they might never surmise such a thing.
Admiral Varr had a brutally scarred face. A victim of torture by a malicious and malvolent slaver, Chanis Varr knew of the true cruelty of humanity. Eventually he earned his freedom when his master became in-debted to a Republic Colonel and, taking pity on the young boy, the Colonel had young Chanis enlist in the Republic Navy. Accompanying the countless and painful-looking scars that decorated the face of the Admiral was an eye patch over his right eye. The loss of his right eye came, as you might have guessed, at the disturbed request of his master. The young Chanis looked for too long at his master's daughter and told the young boy that he was fortunate that he did not remove both of this eye for such a "stunt".
"Admiral Varr. Congratulations on your victory." General Shkuratov replied back and, without allowing Varr to state anything further, Shkuratov ceased the superficial pleasantries and continued on his line-of-thought. "I hear you want to purse the Mandalorians. Negative. We need you and your ships above us as we continue our pursuit of any Mandalorian cells that might still be here as well as some reports of their allies - The Exchange. Apparently, they reside in the Upper City. After that, we are due to rendezvous back with Central Command. There are plans for a final offensive. You will remain where you are until further notice." There was a brief silence between the two and though Varr tried with all his patience to remain dispassionate about the words that Shkuratov spoke, there was a clear resentment that appeared on his face before Varr did finally speak, with more-than-slight annoyance "Very well, General. We will remain in place." Before The General ceased the conversation, Varr killed the visual and audio feed. The General's first thoughts were to have Varr brought to military tribunal for his churlish behavior but, after a few moments forgot all about it as they continued in strategizing their offensive to claim the entire planet for the Republic.
Varr, meanwhile, upon cutting the feed to General Shkuratov had two simultaneous thoughts within his own head. The first being that he thought General Shkuratov was a dick and the second being the following, "The military and slavery - same thing, different uniforms."
And yet, Admiral Varr waited in place and ordered his fleet to do the very same as they remained ever-vigiliant for any returning Neo-Crusaders, their fleets or any potential allies to enter the skies over the planet of Taris. Down below, the troops of the Republic maintained an overwhelming presences in the Under City as the troops marched onward to the Upper.
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Post by Deleted on May 24, 2013 11:10:11 GMT -8
On the outskirts of the Under City, Lt. Zan Plotika received a message from General Shkuratov's Office. It was a pre-recorded message from the General's personal secretary for communications.
"To all platoon leaders, General Shkuratov has received the following directive from Coruscant. This order is to be carried out immediately. All slaves found in Taris are to be freed at once. Please inform them that they are being granted their freedom as newfound citizens of the Republic. In the following weeks, we'll send an envoy to oversee outreach for our new citizens. Thank you." The video cut out after the message was relayed completely. Lt. Plotika's eyes narrowed as he thought something was askew here. Sure, the Republic was against slavery and slave trade but to release the slaves this early into the conflict was suspicious. Lt. Plotika thought to himself "they are not solely doing this okay of the kindness of their hearts. There is an angle here." And indeed there was. Whilst the Republic had a firm stance on being against slavery, outlawing it in all Republic Systems, in this particular instance their strategy just so happened to be a good deed. It was not necessarily just something done out of good-will with no other agenda present. The Republic were hoping that it would squash, permanently, The Exchange's presence on this planet with an armed peoples who have recently been given their freedoms from the Republic. With The Exchange's influence all but nullified on the planet, it would make their control of Taris all the more smooth and irrevocable.
It was no surprise that Lt. Plotika would see through this. Zan Plotika was a highly intelligent man from Alderaan spending his youth excelling in his studies and making his father, a Hospital Administrator, proud. When Zan came of military age and enlisted, it ironically broke the heart of his father who wished for his son to find a job within one of the more prominent universities or practice law - something more becoming of a boy with his intelligence. Regardless of his father's wishes, there was no stopping Zan who, headlong, enlisted within the Republic Army given that he secretly dreamt of bringing glory to the family name within the Mandalorian conflict.
Zan Plotika, roughly thirty years of age, was an average looking man, not particularly strong nor did he have any unusual features. He was average height, average weight and was average at interacting with others. The only thing remarkable, outside of his un-remarkability, was his intelligence when it came to his studies though such things, within the military, did not make Plotika stand out at all. In fact, many of his superiors would often forget his name when he was mentioned in conversation or whenever they came across him. Zan was, more or less, a pretty forgettable individual within this Republic Army.
It is important to know, whilst away fighting in the Mandalorian Wars, Zan had fallen on some financial hard times. He was a married man and had a sickly child. The cost of care, coupled with the strain that it placed on his marriage, plagued the mind of the young Plotika. In fact, he had learned just prior to the conflict here on Taris, that his wife had filed for divorce from him which would only increase his issues with money.
After Lt. Plotika spent a few moments re-reading the letter sent by his wife's attorney, and with the scattered medical bills on his desk within his private quarters, Zan bunched everything together and calmly ripped up both the letter and the bills. Finally, he got to his feet and called out to his platoon who were on the outside of the tent eagerly awaiting their orders as they inched closer to the Upper City.
"Madaris!" The Lieutenant beckoned and, within a few moments, Pvt. Madaris was at the threshold to the entrance of the private quarters of his commanding officer. Mike would recall years later what the inside of the private quarters were like. The inside was dimly lit and smelled like cheap cigarettes and even cheaper whiskey and though Plotika never smelled like either, Madaris genuinely wondered who consumed these things and why these fragrances seemed to hover around Plotika but never -on- the man by any other measure.
"Sir?" Madaris replied.
"Madaris. Tell the others, we are leaving for the Upper Cities first thing in the morning. Get some rest and be ready to move out." Plotika ordered, unmoved his chair with his back to Madaris.
"Aye, sir! Sir! I also wanted to mention!..." Madaris started before being interrupted by Plotika with a simple lift of his hand. "Mother Anaxilea, Madaris. You do not need to scream everything. The Academy days are behind you now. Lower your damn voice..."
"Sir, yes sir..." Madaris replied with a lower tone than before as he continued "...Sir, the others would like to know what we should do with the slaves we have in our company. The ones we took from their Masters before killing the Masters...Do we release them now?"
Finally, and without delay, Plotika turned and looked to Madaris before he stood up and slowly walked over to the young Private. Zan's eyes scrutinized Madaris as though the young soldier challenged him to a duel. Ultimately, Zan spoke with a tone of arrogance yet certainty when he instructed to Madaris the following, "We're ordered to hold them for now. They are prisoners of war until further notice. Now get out, Madaris."
Without hesitation or question, Madaris made himself scarce. After he left, Plotika turned to his desk and picked up his personal com-link. Before he activated the link, his face displayed clear worry as beads of sweat began to expose themselves on the forehead of the young Plotika. In the end, Plotika pushed the button, activated the communication between himself and the mysterious person on the other end of the device. And for this, he cemented his destiny.
Once the com-link channel was activated, it took merely a few moments for a reply. On the other end of the link, there was a male's voice, in quiet tone, that inquired simply "Zan? Is that you?"
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Post by Deleted on May 28, 2013 9:22:18 GMT -8
==The Second Battle of Taris: Day 3. Mandalorian Wars: 3,961 BBY==
“Right in here, Commander. General Shkuratov will be with you soon.” One of the staff for The General motioned to the young, handsome Lt. Commander Duo. The Commander stopped in his tracks and locked, in bashful hesitant, contested the direction given to him by the Private before him, “His personal quarters? Wouldn’t the General object to this whilst he is in another meeting?”
The private did not flinch and, with a grin, kept the flap open that lead into the private tent of the General and stated, “No, sir. The hospitality came directly from the General himself.” Lt. Commander Duo would press the matter no further and proceeded, with strange caution, into the private quarters of General Shkuratov as the Private closed the tent behind Duo.
When Duo noticed that he was alone, he scanned the inner sanctuary of the leader of the Republic Armed Forces. Everything seemed expensive, ornate and clean. Even for a mobile office, which this was, it seemed fascinating that the General would go to such length to be surrounded by some of the finer things in life. In a lot of ways, it was different than what Duo had seen of the planet so far since his re-assignment from a ship in the orbit of Taris to the ground itself. Duo had never been to this planet and the little he saw of it, intrigued him on some basic level. There wasn’t much to look at it, but how many men can say that they were present when a planet was liberated and made a part of the great Republic? It would make for a wonderful story to his grandchildren someday.
The handsome Lt. Commander made his way, slowly, towards a small desk that occupied the far right corner of the small tent. Directly in front of him, on one side of the desk, were two chairs that faced the towering chair for the general on the other end of the table. The chairs for the guests were made of steel and very cold to the touch whereas the chair for the General had a long, wooden back that stretched almost to the ceiling of the tent itself. The backing of the chair was draped in plush red carpet. On the nondescript desk, there was situated a small black book, closed though with a red ribbon inside of it proudly marking the page in which it was situated.
Gordon stopped himself for a moment and lurked over the book. Quickly, he turned around back towards the entrance to the tent to listen and to see. When he believed himself to be alone for the foreseeable future, Duo lightly lifted the cover of the book and peered down to read the contents of the marked page, with the red ribbon. His gaze was that of profound confusion as he simply was only able to make out a couple sentences. “…next year, we wish to engage the Mandos at Malachor V. The Mass Shadow Generator will be completed by then according to the Jedi.”
The newly assigned Commander wished mightily to read on but was sharply interrupted, in his intrusive and rude behavior, by a voice – that of the Private who ushered him into the tent of Shkuratov. “Yes sir, General! Lt. Commander Duo waits inside for you.”
With wide eyes, Duo acted quickly. He shut the book and made three quick strides away from the desk as he came more toward the middle of the tent. When the flap to the tent flung open, Duo greeted the General at the position of attention and saluted his superior officer. “Sir, Lt. Commander Duo reporting for duty, Sir!”
The General rolled his eyes and replied, with a noticeable sigh, “At ease, Commander. Come, take a seat at my desk.” The General slowly started to walk over to the desk, as did Duo who went to reach for one of the two chairs for the guests until he was interrupted by General Shkuratov.
“No. Sit in that chair.” The General said as he pointed to the wooden chair, with tall backing draped with red carpet. Duo was noticeably caught off guard by this and looked at the General while he politely tried to decline. “Sir, I couldn’t possibly…” but was unable to finish his thought at the General interjected with his trademark deep and commanding voice. “*Sit*. Down.”
And with those two words, there was an eerie and intimidating silence between the two until Duo, out of nervous habit, cleared his throat and quickly made his way to the chair behind the desk. Before he sat, Duo unfastened the two buttons on his Navy issued overcoat, on which the badges of his rank proudly were pinned. After he sat, General Shkuratov grinned before he seated himself in one of the cold, iron chairs left usually for one of his guests. Without many seconds passing between them, though they were in silence given that Duo was entirely too intimidated to speak first, the elder Shkuratov took out, from the sheath under his left breast a thin, silver blade and held it with his right hand. Shkuratov studied it as he rotated it in a bit in his hand.
“Commander, have you ever killed a man?” The General asked cryptically. He removed his eyes from the shiny, sleek blade and locked them squarely, and intensely, on Lt. Commander Duo.
“Yes, sir. I have.” Replied Duo confidently and with a thoughtful, yet sad gaze.
“I don’t mean in one of your ships, from thousands and thousands of meters away with the single push of a button, Commander. I mean up close…while looking in his eyes as you shoot him or send your blade, headlong, through his flesh and bone as he grabs at you as if to beg for a reprieve.” The General stated through almost gritted teeth and a curled lip.
“No, sir. I have not killed a man in the manner in which you mean.” Duo said with clear defeat in his mannerisms.
“The Navy. Of course not. Well, Commander Duo, do you at least like that chair that you’re seated in?” inquired Shkuratov with a much less intense gaze than moments prior.
“I do, sir. Yes.” Replied Duo instantaneously
“Maybe you’ll get to sit in one like it someday, Duo.” The General stated with a grin, still he held onto the small, thin blade in his right hand. “I wanted someone like you, Commander Duo. Do you know why?”
“I do not, sir”, Duo answered honestly.
“Of course you don’t. Look at you, Duo. Young and smug; I hate the very look of you. This war has been going on for more than a decade and you’ve been involved for far less than half of that time. Your hands are as soft as your mind and there you sit thinking you’re here based on your merit, your achievements. Ha! You’re here because I didn’t want Admiral Varr or his Vice Admiral or Rear Admiral or a Captain. I wanted someone young and inexperienced. Do you know why, Duo?” The General asked one last question to the young, handsome Commander before him. Confused and afraid, Duo answered with a voice now ripe with shaken uncertainty “N-no, no sir I do not.”
In one quick movement, Shkuratov brought his blade down and stabbed it with all the ferocity he could muster just a half inch away from the book that lay on the table with red-ribbon in between its pages. As he sent the forsaken blade into the table, Shkuratov came to his feet, and with his left hand reached for the collar of Duo, grabbed him tightly and brought him toward the center of the table. Shkuratov then leaned in and, as he stared with the intensity of a thousand suns, grinned and showed his rotten, nearly decayed teeth. With every passing sentence, Shkuratov gripped Duo’s collar tighter and shook him just a bit whilst he spoke. Duo did nothing to resist, mostly because Shkuratov was a superior officer and for as startled as Duo was, he did not forget where he was and with whom he was speaking too. “Because I like to watch young, ignorant men like you become consumed in the fires of war. You bastards with your ‘right’ and your ‘wrong’ and your arrogance in thinking that you know something that us older men either don’t know or forgot. I’ll enjoy watching you become miserable; become stuck; waiting for a promotion, waiting for the end of war. There is no end of war and you will learn it. There is only war and preparation for the next war. Young men like you do not understand this. Ultimately you will know it to be true. I wanted to see a young Naval Hand grow up to become something he hoped to never be. And that is why you are here, Commander Duo. That will be your fate. Don’t allow yourself to think that I will rely much on your counsel, if at all.”
The Commander’s eyes, wide with fear, looked back toward the General as he swallowed hard. After the elder Shkuratov finished speaking, he released Duo with a shove back against the plush chair from which he originated and left the young Commander seated there with the book and the blade before him.
General Shkuratov then turned and walked towards the threshold of the tent and, as he kept his back faced toward Duo, the old General said very plainly and with such sincerity that Duo would live in fear of Shkuratov for the rest of his days. “Don't count on being sent back to Admiral Varr. You're stuck on my staff until I am through you. Oh, and Duo, if you ever read through anymore of my personal documents without my say-so, I will personally gut you and hang you by your innards.”
And with that, he left the young Commander there, within his own private quarters. Duo sat in the chair in complete disbelief of the conversation that had occurred, nor how the old General knew he had read some of the personal notebook before their meeting commenced.
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