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Post by Kelko on Jul 31, 2014 11:12:53 GMT -8
Kelko wanted to speak, but found that he couldn't. All he choked out was, "I love you" as he said goodbye to each family member. His mother had embarrassed him, but he felt too small to protest. Yet, at the same time, he felt like a giant because of his father's encouragement and pride. That did a lot for the heart of a young boy. Finally, he turned to the old Ithorian Jedi Master.
I am ready.
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Post by Oraltor Nadon on Aug 1, 2014 12:31:22 GMT -8
Oraltor puts his hand on kelko's head and leads him onto the ship.
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Post by Landrin Starholder on Aug 5, 2014 15:08:51 GMT -8
As soon as all are aboard, Landrin flies out of the hanger. He skims the treetops for a few miles before turning and heading into orbit.
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Vreegon
Member
Posts: 15 
Affiliation: Rodia
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Post by Vreegon on Aug 14, 2014 8:09:58 GMT -8
Vreegon watched the ship until it was out of sight, which was not long as low as if flew over the jungle. Then he looked over the datacard in his hand.
Honey, take the speeder and take the kids home. I'll be by after while.
=Neela=
You sure?
=Vreegon=
Yeah.
He kissed his wife and kids good bye. When they were out the hangar door, he closed it, leaving through the walk-through door to make sure that the temple was secure. He looked up at the statue of Brulax. That is where he would find Shiar. He walked through the city, crossed the river, and went to a medical facility. Here, this was a cryogenic facility. He walked to the right room, and walked past icy caskets to the one that contained the Sakiyan Jedi.
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Post by Shiar Throndec on Aug 21, 2014 12:15:09 GMT -8
Shiar sat with her feet propped up on the cryo tube that contained her friend. She looked at her Sabbacc cards, and then looked at the one she had dealt to him.
Good hand Red, but not good enough. That 8 you owe me.
She heard footsteps, and saw her old friend.
Hey there Deadeye. What brings you down here today? Just checking up on him?
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Faust Skirata
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I'm the Juggernaut, bitch.
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Post by Faust Skirata on Sept 26, 2014 19:40:42 GMT -8
He found the pilot at a cantina on the fringes of Equator City. A scrawny weasel of a man, Baroth Gryndine was falling down drunk when Faust pushed his way through the door of the Blind Bloodfin. There were less than a dozen patrons within the Bloodfin's dim, smoky confines, and not a one of them turned their gaze on the cloaked man with the scarred face when he entered. Most were too drunk to know where they were, let alone take note of a new arrival, and the others knew to mind their own business. His hand was on the grip of his Ripper as he sidled up to Baroth's table.
The pilot looked up at the stranger standing over him through bleary eyes. "And just who the kriff are you, then?" He was slurring badly, Faust noted.
He took his time replying, pulling out the chair opposite Baroth and seating himself. The furniture groaned under the weight of the armor hidden beneath the priest's cloak. "You are Baroth Gryndine, correct?" Faust already knew the answer. A copy of the pilot's identification card had been included in the files Jaroth had forwarded him.
"I said, who's askin'?" Baroth tried to stand and had to catch himself on the table to keep from falling. Faust's sulfuric gaze took note of the splotches on his flightsuit, the lank, unkempt hair, and confused anger in the man's dim eyes. Disgusting, to lose your senses so. All of a sudden the priest was very glad he was being payed to kill this man. But not yet, he reminded himself. Patience. Getting some information from the man before he died would make tracking down his crewmates a hell of a lot easier. If he wasn't too drunk to answer questions, that was.
"Shut up and listen," Faust growled suddenly, savagely, and laid his Ripper on the table. "Or I'll splatter your brains across that wall."
It took a moment for the threat to register. He could see the drunkard eying the pistol as he worked through the threat. Then he swallowed hard, his face turning the color of chalk. "Wha-"
"I said shut up," The priest hissed. "Speak out of turn again and it'll mean your life. Answer my questions and just maybe I'll leave you to your drink." That was a bald faced lie, and the pilot seemed to realize it despite the booze. He also seemed to realize he didn't really have a choice. He started to speak and then shut his mouth again hastily and nodded instead.
"Good." Faust glanced around the room to check that no one had lifted their eyes from their cups. Satisfied, he flashed Baroth a hideous smile and leaned forward. "Good." He repeated.
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Xeonon Solomon
The First Order
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Post by Xeonon Solomon on Sept 28, 2014 3:22:37 GMT -8
Rodia was one of the most dangerous planets in the universe. Between the Rodians, Vong, and Terra Forming it was a toss up as to what was the most dangerous aspect to the planet. That all changed as the shade materialized in the Blind Bloodfin which, despite Faust had been having one of its usual boring nights. That was until a man wearing a crown, a royal cape and dripping blood from his mouth, hands and eyes appeared in the middle of the room.
Just as they started to react Xeonon snapped his fingers which is pretty amazing when you remember they were coated in blood making friction hard. Just as the first drunk started to stand and back away in fear the place froze. Partially because it got colder, roughly -10 centigrade like the chamber of many Whills. The other part was that it literally froze. No one moved, time stood still save for Xeonon and the Mandalorian. Turning to face Faust his stare would unnerve and cause all the manliest of men.
Pointing at him as he walked his voice was rather raspy. Despite all appearances there was a limit to his powers, and rifting followed by stopping time in a bar was pushing his powers. He still had some though.
Skirata! You should know I have seen the underworld. I have seen much but I was never granted an audience with Kad. I saw his palace though, and all those who served him faithfully but never got to see him. Do you know who I am?
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Faust Skirata
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Post by Faust Skirata on Sept 28, 2014 10:49:54 GMT -8
"Now, tell me where Captain Morrows stores his weapons." Faust growled. When the pilot hesitated, he thumbed back the hammer on his Ripper. The click was enough to make the man jump. And speak.
"In a warehouse; it's...it's in the Eastern District of the city."
Faust nodded impatiently. "What are the coordinates?" As the pilot rattled off a string of numbers, Faust spared the bar one more glance, to ensure he hadn't attracted anyone's notice. With a snort he realized that none of the patrons had moved so much as an inch. Perhaps after Baroth had told him all he wanted to know, he'd butcher them all. These people had thrown their lives away to drink and drug and pleasure anyway, and an offering to Kad would ensure good fortune on his hunt.
He turned back to see the pilot sitting very still, his mouth open and his hand halfway to his cup. Frowning, Faust raised a hand and snapped his fingers inches from the man's face. There was no reaction. "What the hell-" He broke off as steam rose from his mouth. The bar had gone deathly silent, and all of a sudden the Mandalorian realized something was very wrong. He was on his feet in a heartbeat, kicking back his chair and whirling with his Ripper raised and his right hand reaching for the hilt of his beskad.
What he encountered stopped him short.
Faced with the horror before him, Faust could only bark a short laugh. "Some dinii be Arasuum, I think." And then, still smiling his gruesome smile, the Priest fired three times, pulling the trigger so rapidly that the rolling roar of the shots seemed to overlap each other. All three slugs were aimed at the entity's center mass. Should he remain still, the grouping would be quite close.
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Xeonon Solomon
The First Order
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Post by Xeonon Solomon on Sept 28, 2014 11:34:20 GMT -8
He remained very still. So still in fact that he did not even flinch as the shots were fired. He had time, all the time in the world as he saw the muscles move in infinite slowness. At least in his own head thats what he saw. There was not much in this universe that could stop bullets from a ripper, and those that could often left people dead from the kinetic energy. Good thing this shade of a man had one of those things, the indomitable will of a High Councilor and the fact that he was no longer truly alive. The bullets ripped right through him as he kept on smiling. Cackling as he stood there he rolled his head around before settling his gaze back on Faust.
I assure you Faust I am no lunatic, nor do I follow or trust that fool Arasuum. He just wants peace and idleness, Kad is much more fun. That is why I came here, you Skiratas always where over zealous in your beliefs. I fought one of you priests once, the one who carried a hatchet named Gorehound I believe.
Zooming forward so his face was inches from Faust Xeonon whispered in the mans right ear.
Your bullets can not harm me. Look around, not even the Whills would be brave enough to interact in such a way as this.
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Faust Skirata
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Post by Faust Skirata on Sept 28, 2014 13:52:30 GMT -8
The slugs tore through the figure with wet, meaty thuds, spattering an even more liberal amount of blood across its finery. Yet the man was unmoved, even unfazed. From his expression it seemed he wasn't even aware of what happened. Faust's jaw set even as his mind raced. Was it a necromancer's thrall he faced? Some sorcerer's spell? His sulfuric gaze scanned the frozen patrons of the Bloodfin uncertainly. He'd slain all manner of forcie, from the Ysanna with their slugthrowers to alchemists of the Sith, and he'd never seen a spell such as this before. Yet what else could it be? A spirit returned from Manda? More like chaos, in this case.
And then the specter was there, inches from him and speaking quietly. Faust sneered, his ruined visage twisting. "Bah. If you were brave you'd die as Kad intended, and make way for your betters. Yet here you are, a shade." He scoffed. "And you expect me to believe Arasuum had no hand in this stagnation."
He slammed the Ripper back into its holster. What other option was there? His weapons could not harm the shade, and so he could not simply blast it away. He'd have to determine what it wanted. "Every Priest knows Gorehound. 'Twas Darian you faced, wretch. Was he the one who slayed you, I wonder?" Sour amusement danced in the Priest's amber eyes. Turning, he picked up the mug that Baroth had been reaching for when the entity had frozen him. He sniffed it skeptically, then shrugged and took a noisy drink.
"Why are you here?" He asked finally, slamming the cup down on the table. "Speak plainly, shade."
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Xeonon Solomon
The First Order
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Post by Xeonon Solomon on Sept 28, 2014 14:40:55 GMT -8
At least he stopped shooting. Still with his religious talk though.
If that sloth faced ingrate had anything to do with this he didnt tell me. Some old farts on Taris brought me back against my will.
It was actually because of this mans power that he was here. If Xeonon was going to be forced back to the land of the living why would he try to do the right thing. Death was bliss, no expectations, no fear. Just total happyness. When he had been ripped back into the plains of the breathing he had been involved with two of the best looking ghosts out there. Both working on him to relieve some stress.
In one reality he slayed me aye. Not the mainstream one though, I fought a Sith and died a martyr. My death brought down the New Order of the Eye.
Its not like it truly mattered though. He still died the same way as any other would. Alone and cut in half by his own shield.
It is simple. I am here because I want recompense on a universe that demanded my return. I want the ground to be bathed in blood, the skies to burn and civilization to crumble. I could do it myself
Using his hands to motion around him at the frozen time.
but that would do no good. The Whills would destroy me. So I must act through flesh and blood, normally I would toss you about beat you and kill you. I am in a giving mood though so tell me. Name something you can use. Anything and it shall be yours within reason.
As he spoke the shade took one of the cups and sniffed it. He did not need to eat or drink but the motions and the taste still felt good. One of the few human things still about him. This stuff though smelled like it would cause someone to go blind and the taste. Ugh. He had had enough of the rot gut while alive. Instead he snapped his fingers and one of the random people in the bar gave up their lives in order for him to have a nice Cognac to drink. He hoped this thing took him up on his offer, he wanted to undermine the Whills for allowing him to become this abomination. He of course left out some of the finer points to this gift but maybe the drink will tip Faust off to the price.
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Faust Skirata
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Post by Faust Skirata on Sept 28, 2014 16:07:34 GMT -8
He was silent throughout the specter's monologue, scarred arms crossed. Part of him wanted to inquire more about the battle that had taken his life. Perhaps it would give him some clue of the High Priest's whereabouts. Instead he waited, unsure if he could trust anything the spirit said anyway. When he finally got to the point, the Reaver Lord was even more skeptical. What motivation could it possibly have for helping him? With the power he'd shown by somehow freezing the patrons of the cantina- at least, Faust assumed the effect was localized- his excuse of needing to act vicariously fell flat.
His nose wrinkled in disgust. "I require naught but my tools of worship, wretch. And those I have." He laid a hand on the pistol at his hip and narrowed his sulfur-yellow eyes. Would the shade take his refusal badly? Such a battle would end in his death, unless he could find a way to kill the thing. Unfortunately dark side lore hadn't been a passion of his. Still, if the Destroyer God willed it, he would triumph. His flayed lips bowed in a smile. "If you truly wish to grant me some token, then find me a worthy sacrifice. These Rodians die too easy."
As if suddenly reminded, Faust turned to examine the frozen pilot. Leaning over the table, he gave the man an experimental slap on the cheek. He felt teeth rattle under the heavy beskar of his gauntlet. Baroth remained still as stone, looking straight ahead. With an exasperated sigh the Priest straightened and turned back to the shade. At least he knew his quarry wasn't going to make a run for it.
His offer hung in the air.
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Xeonon Solomon
The First Order
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Post by Xeonon Solomon on Sept 28, 2014 16:30:15 GMT -8
Part of him wanted to strike this man dead, refusing the boon offered to him? Smart but also dumb. At least at the end he amended his statement. It wasnt what was offered but it was a request.
I like you so I wont kill you? You wish for a worthy sacrifice, fine.
Snapping his fingers again all but the man Faust slapped aged prematurely, going to old me, mummy, skeleton and finally dust. All of it took less than 30 seconds. The end result was an empty bar and a new face also frozen for the time being.
I was going to ask you to kill everyone here for whatever you wanted, but since you only wish to kill here. Its me, or at least what I was prior to my death, leader of an entire order of force users few have defeated me in honest combat at this point.
Despite his words the "clone" of past Xeonon bore the scars of a fighting man. Missing cheeks, replaced eyes, right arm missing and a host of other scars all wrapped inside the armour he was known to wear back then. This Imperial Knight had yet to face death like Xeonon had but he hoped this would be a good sacrifice.
You tried to kill me earlier, here is your chance. You kill me and maybe Kad will be impressed, if not well you get to meet him and see if he deems you worthy.
Snapping his fingers the clone of the shade charged rather uncharacteristically of the real thing. He however had been removed of his conscious and instead briefed on his mission. Kill the man or die. It seems that even clones have self preservation because he charged with his curved silver lightsaber poised.
Have fun
He then unfroze the bar, not that it mattered considering only three people were alive inside and one was probably going to pass out from being smacked by a crushgaunt. Turning invisible to make the Mando think he was gone he watched to see how this would go.
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Faust Skirata
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Post by Faust Skirata on Sept 28, 2014 16:58:41 GMT -8
He freed his pistol again as the patrons of the Bloodfin began to decay. They were reduced to dust, all but Baroth, and Faust suddenly found himself alone with the shade. Well, aside from their paralyzed observer, of course. The Priest only nodded as Xeonon summoned another version of himself. This one was a mass of scars as well, but obviously of flesh and blood. As the shade faded, Faust let out a raucous shout. "I said a worthy sacrifice, ."
And then the clone was charging him, a silver lightsaber in his hand. Quick as a whip the Mandalorian leveled the Ripper and fired twice, first aiming for the clone's pelvis and then lifting the pistol and firing a slug at his throat. His lips moved in silent prayer and praises to the Destroyer God.
As long as blood was spilled, Kad would be pleased.
I will show you, Faust promised silently. I will prove I am worthy. The late great Xeonon was sure to be a skilled fighter, but a worthy sacrifice? Never. This was no warrior, with a fire in his heart and bloodlust in his eyes. It was a husk, a shell. There was no more glory to this than terminating droids. But in the conquering of the weak and the shedding of life's blood, there was great holiness. For a chance to make a gift of a bloody corpse to Kad, the Reaver Lord was grateful.
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Xeonon Solomon
The First Order
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Post by Xeonon Solomon on Sept 28, 2014 17:14:48 GMT -8
Despite being a husk of his former glory the creature still had his fighting sense and dueling was one thing he excelled at. As Faust leveled the gun Xeonon flicked his eyes at it and called on the force to shift the gun so it the bullets would fly off to the side. It was a good thing to or else the bullets would have easily well ripped through his body. Finding some words finally they came out so husky they could pull a dog sled.
No. We fight like men, with blades.
Now within striking distance Xeonon swung from right to left. An easy thing to block but he was under strict orders to have this man prove himself in combat. Of course he was fighting a man in mandalorian iron so the attack would be next to useless on the chest and lower body. His best bet was the arms, and as such he tried to burn the flesh unprotected by the chain mail on Fausts left arm.
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Faust Skirata
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Post by Faust Skirata on Sept 28, 2014 17:35:35 GMT -8
Just as he squeezed the trigger the gun jerked in his hands. The first slug buried itself in the far wall, while the second grazed along the top of the bar, throwing up splinters and dust. Annoyance rippled across the Priest's scarred visage as he realized the clone had picked up speed. He had time to line up another shot, but if it failed to stop the charging wraith it would be too late for Faust to defend against that blazing lightsaber. Instead he reached back with his right hand and grasped the hilt of his beskad.
Just before the clone was upon him the Priest stepped into his charge, yanking his blade free and into a downward slash in one smooth, continuous motion. The diagonal stroke synchronized with the mercenary's step, and he lowered his shoulder into the strike, turning it into a sledgehammer of force that would impact from the clone's left shoulder down to beneath his right pectoral, and then further out, to intercept the incoming blade of his lightsaber.
Just beneath the whisper of beskar cutting the air and the thrum of Xeonon's lightsaber were the muttered songs of a madman.
On the follow through Faust lifted his heels and pivoted his hips to the left, letting the force of his swing turn him until the clone was presented with his profile. Fury blazed in those yellow orbs, and his teeth gleamed wickedly between the ragged shreds of his cheek. His left hand raised, Ripper gripped tightly, until his forearm was laying across his stomach, the barrel of his slugthrower aimed at the clone's bowels.
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Xeonon Solomon
The First Order
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Post by Xeonon Solomon on Sept 29, 2014 14:44:04 GMT -8
As the shade watched on in morbid fascination he saw the gun pointed at past him. Some sort of self preservation made him pucker up even though he was not the man below. He was impressed by Faust. You would be surprised how many people out there are willing to fight with just blades when integrity was called into play. Obviously this Priest of Kad was above such name calling. He was only sated by the blood lust and killing in the name of his god. So when the bullet ripped through his conjuring of his past self he simply made the ghost vanish.
Good. You have proven yourself to me. Tell me mortal where you would get the most glory? What species is the best to slaughter in the name of Kad, I will get you there so you may kill untold numbers and increase your renown.
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Faust Skirata
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Post by Faust Skirata on Sept 30, 2014 14:47:39 GMT -8
He fired again, aiming higher this time, the clone was suddenly gone. Disappeared. The slug hit the floor at an angle and ricocheted with a low whine. The Priest was still for a long moment, and then he shoved his Ripper back into its holster and the beskad into its sheath. It seemed the spirit wished to toy with him, giving him just enough to whet his appetite for bloodlust. It is a dangerous thing, to tempt Kad. Faust thought when their eyes met. You cannot direct a wildfire.
"The Destroyer God does not play favorites, di'kut, and I cannot yet leave Rodia." He pressed his flayed lips together. The Reaver Lord had accepted a contract, one that he couldn't leave incomplete. Not only was it lucrative, but it played a critical part in his campaign. No matter how the shade might bait him, he could not abandon his mission.
But might there be a way to appease the thing, and bring him closer to his goals?
Faust folded his arms. "Kad has called me here, to serve as his hand and slay a crew of smugglers and thieves. My wish is to obey." If the specter could make carrying out Kad's orders more efficient, then surely that would be to the Destroyer God's glory. Yet he was eager to take his leave; the prospect of slaughter was enticing, and the Priest had half a dozen more lives to take before the night was done. It occurred to him that he could in all likelihood manage to sic the shade upon his prey, and with a word the thing would be done.
Only he wanted to perform the rites personally.
"If you've something that will serve Kad, I'll take it in his name." The Priest finally growled.
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Xeonon Solomon
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Post by Xeonon Solomon on Oct 1, 2014 17:32:13 GMT -8
Had the priest not accepted his request one of two things would have happened. The first and more probable of the two would be very bloody and violent. It would only end with Faust strung up by his entrails, flayed from the toes up, only to be replaced by tar and feathers. The second would have involved he following Faust around like Patrick Swayze did to Whoopie in Ghost.
I have just the thing for you thin.
Rather than just snapping his fingers the Shade went for a more spectacular route, something to show off. he was a creature of vanity after all. From around him wood, metal and even glass polled around him, morphing shape and material. The wood petrifying, the metal fusing no matter the material and glass liquefying and changing material entirely.
In front of the priest a new weapon formed. All of the parts of a pistol arranged itself individually and hovered there for a minute as the smaller parts waited for the larger ones to finish forming. With a blink of his eyes the parts formed together, forming a C96 Mauser. Attached the the back was the box that gave it, at the time of its creation the nick name "The Broomhandle". Embroidered on the stock were the words. "Re gar sur'haii draar trattok'or" Or in Galactic Basic "May your arm never fail" written in silver. Unattaching itself from the stock the weapon went into the stock, which fit it perfectly as a holster it flew into Xeonons right hand. In addition thirty rounds flew into free hand and he smiled.
This handgun shall serve you and Kad well. As you can see the stock also works as a holster for your weapon, it holds ten rounds and although extremly archaic in today's day and age the insignia is embroidered with power. As long as you are within two hundred meters you would be hard pressed to miss; even against force users. The rounds are also special. The outside of the round is made of Durasteel, while the inside has a small amount of Cortosis. Use it well, those rounds are specially made for the weapon, once those 30 are out well either we meet again or you wont get to use it again.
With that done he handed the two things to the armoured man his smile showing straight oddly white teeth.
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Faust Skirata
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Post by Faust Skirata on Oct 2, 2014 17:19:28 GMT -8
Faust watched with narrowed eyes as reality began to twist and shift once more, materials molding together at their master's will. He'd seen feats of magic before, but that had been on the battlefield, mostly. Blasts of lightning, men torn apart by invisible hands or plagued by an otherworldly sickness. One of his own Reavers had even turned his beskad against him at the behest of some Sith Lord's treacherous power. Yet he'd never seen anything like this. The weapon that spawned from the chaos was beautiful, and obviously deadly.
The Reaver Lord took the pistol almost reverently. It was no surprise the grip fit his hand perfectly. Nor was the impeccable balance. It was a masterwork. One calloused finger traced the caligraphy embroidered on the stock, and a begrudging smile bowed his flayed lips. When he looked back up at the shade he seemed taken aback. "Vor entye." The words came reluctantly, but sincerely. Setting the weapon down on the table where Baroth still sat, frozen, Faust pulled a dirk from his belt.
"And thanks be to Kad as well," The Priest growled as the blade sliced across his palm. Blood dripped from between clenched fingers as Faust bowed his head in silent prayer. Then, turning, he picked up the pistol and smeared his hand across its length, painting it crimson. With the appropriate blessings made, Faust was sure the weapon would prove a glorious tool of destruction. He had to resist the urge to test the pistol on the patrons of the Bloodfin.
He settled for nodding to the shade. "I am in your debt."
And what now? Would the royal cadaver vanish now that a gift had been bestowed? The Reaver Lord was not so naive as to believe the spirit did not want something in return. There was always a catch when you dealt with their kind, he had found. But what could it be? He held on to the pistol while he waited. It was doubtful that a weapon the spirit had forged could also unmake him, but it had a better chance to slay the thing than his Ripper, that was for sure.
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