A Legacy of Violence - The Hunt for a Blade

[Darlyn Excron]

Click for introduction, you won't regret it!

Exiting hyperspace above Zakuul, one of Commenor's Kantos-class frigates came into existence, slowly settling as they prepared for the day's operation. Normally, official Commenorian frigates stayed at home, as part of the planet's official defense force, but today was quite abnormal to say the least. After hearing rumours of a cult possessing an artifact of immense power, the Commenor Head of Security, Darlyn Excron, had approached [member="Lady Kay"] to request permission to investigate. No doubt for her own reasons, the Queen accepted his request, and the man had immediately commandeered this particular vessel to transport him to begin his search.

Before he could leave the ship proper, however, he had to place a call. Moving to the proper station, he opened holo-communications to Commenor, and offered a polite nod to the guardsman who answered. "Inform the Queen that we have entered Zakuul space and I am making my way now to the planet's surface. We shall see very soon if there are any truths to be found regarding the rumours wired our way." Offering a second nod, communications was cut and the word was brought to the Queen.

Moving on to the hangar bay, Darlyn was thankful he had remembered to bring along a pilot for his shuttle craft, he himself had little talent for flying and the landing zone was not the most forgiving. Stepping inside, he nodded to the pilot as they took off, heading down to the swamp covered planet.

As the ship finally entered the atmosphere, and grew closer to the planet, Darlyn became distinctly aware of how.. balanced everything felt. Normally planets felt chaotic, or lopsided in the force. Zakuul felt, distinctly orderly and balanced. Chaotic underneath that order, sure, but an overall balance washed over him, long before he landed on the planet's surface. Curious, that such a strange planet as this would hold such a unique signature.

Stepping out of the shuttle and onto the swamp itself, Darlyn immediately became grateful for having remembered to wear his thicker boots. The semi solid ground was none-too-pleasant to the eyes or nose. Were it not for the prize at the end, Darlyn would have immediately returned to the ship. He waved the shuttle away, knowing it would be safer to return the shuttle to the ship in orbit, and as the ship left he straightened his robes out. His hunter's garb, which he had yet to replace, consisted of his black robes, cloak, and metal chest piece over his vitals. Simple enough, and in a swamp like this he was grateful to not be wearing full armor, lest he start sinking into the ground as well.

Of course, unbeknownst to him, [member="Zmej Ren"] had heard the same rumours, and had her own plans for the artifact in question, the legendary Lightsaber of Exar Kun.

 

[Zmej Ren]

Rumours often spread like wildfire, especially when containing whispers of immensely powerful Sith artefacts. Going from one ear to another across planetary systems obviously resulted in lack of credibility, thus people tended to dismiss most as mere fairy tales meant to scare children or draw in treasure hunters and unsavoury folk hoping to earn wealth without too much work, often hired by passionate collectors with limitless supply of credits. Each lie contained a drop of truth though and items of power presented great danger in wrong hands, something impossible to ignore. As such, the eerie tales of perverse cults and death worship did not escape the enigmatic order of Ren, ears and eyes of the Supreme Leader. One Zmej Ren has been dispatched to investigate the situation and extinguish any signs of dissent. Should the rumours prove correct, she was to recover the artefact if possible – and destroy it otherwise, anything to eliminate the threat it posed to the First Order and its interests.

A black shadow tore through Zakuul’s darkened skies, headed towards the planet’s least hospitable parts where strength and adaptability prevailed over laws of men. Uncaring, emotionless, the vessel soared over the surface in search of a suitable landing spot. The endless green sea of vegetation covering the swamp lived up to its name, reaching as far as eyes could see. Unwilling to permit an outsider to tread these lands, the required islands of solid ground continued playing hide and seek, coreved by crooked trees. Slowing down, the metal bird gave up on its efforts and hovered in spot, engines roaring louder than Terentateks, scaring away all curious lifeforms. A hissing moan left the shuttle’s belly and it opened, revealing a lone figure standing within. Clad head to toe in plates of phrik and impervium, the dark disciple silently observed what would become her home for the next few days. Not exactly her preferred sort of terrain – mainly due to hindering movement, which went double for adventurers sporting battle armour. Impractical? Perhaps, but Zmej wouldn’t trade the protection it offered for comfort.

“Come pick me up in two weeks,” demanded the disciple sternly, her distorted voice meant for none other than the pilot, “If I’m not here, assume me dead.”

That was all she had to say. Before hopping off the shuttle, the teenage disciple discarded her armourweave cloak, thinking it useless and cumbersome given the environment. All else she needed to survive and complete her mission already adorned the young woman’s belt. Swamp water and muck went in all directions when Zmej’s metal boots sank into Zakuul’s mushy land and broke the swamp's opaque surface, followed by a beacon that would mark this place a pick-up zone. Bright light illuminated the Ren’s face when the helmet’s integrated HUD flashed on, showing the beacon’s position and having the blonde know the shuttle rocketed towards the sky, vanishing over the horizon and out of her sensors. Now she stood alone, in the middle of nowhere, cut off from the rest of the galaxy.

Guided by the HUD and open to the currents of the Force, Zmej Ren set off, splashing through Zakuul’s murky waters.



[member="Darlyn Excron"]

 

[Darlyn Excron]

Every step only served to further Darlyn's disgust, as the squelching sounds of mud and grime echoed with each step he took further and further inside. The smell was the worst bit, he'd be cleaning his boots for weeks to get the stench off. And at least three showers. The long and short of it? It was not improving his mood one bit that he was forced to go deeper still, nor that this would likely be his weekend.

"You know," He spoke aloud to himself, nearly tripping over a root he couldn't see for the fifth time in that minute, "Most government officials go somewhere nice for their vacations. Nice sunny sky, nice rolling green hills, something pleasant. Me? I go hunting in a cesspool with local fauna that want to eat me. Welcome to Zakuul ladies and gentlemen, where absolutely everything wants to keep you out." Loudly speaking to himself was certain to draw attention, if any living thing could hear him, but it did ease his tension. For what good that was.

A growl, and heavy footsteps. Ah, speaking of the living hearing him, a Mawvorr, a dark skinned one, was making its way through the bog towards him. Long way from home, to be certain. And not having wished to endanger his father's blaster by taking it through a swamp, Darlyn only had a handful of grenades and his lightsaber to protect himself. Granted, that was a handful of grenades and a lightsaber, but it was still less than usual. Darlyn bent down slightly, just in case the beast moved along without actually noticing him, but of course he had no such luck.

The thing seemed ready to charge, and Darlyn's quick glance around revealed his back was up to a tree. Decisions, decisions. Well, given the quickness of this first encounter, he opted to remain safe as far as expending energy and resources. Keeping ready, Darlyn remained back to the tree, as the Mawvorr made a charge for him. using the force, he was able to jump straight up, well over the thing's reach, and grabbed onto the tree to hold on. Condensing the force around his hand, he blasted the Mawvorr with a bolt of lightning, then a second and third, until it stopped twitching. Ah, water, it made his favorite power just that more deadly.

He dropped down just after that, looking around. The noise, the lightning, he'd made quite a show for literally anyone to see. Hopefully he hadn't given himself away, though as he began to continue in his original path, roughly an eastward one, he couldn't shake the sensation of being watched.

[member="Zmej Ren"]

 

[Zmej Ren]

Snakes and other small, yet incredibly dangerous creatures stood no chance when confronting the armoured traveller. After realizing the failure of pitting their primal instincts against the plated figure, all lifeforms scurried away in terror, for the greatest predator of all was making her way through. No enemy could put a stop to it – except for the world itself, burping and slurping in muddy mockery of her efforts, determined to hinder her progress if killing the woman could not be achieved. Her advance strongly resembled that of tanks; unstoppable, yet slow and tiring. Exhaustion was destined to come sooner or later given the amount of effort necessary for each step through the unstable ground. Did she regret wearing a full suit of armour once wading waist deep in filth? Not in the slightest. Aside from protection, she’d been mostly spared the sweaty dampness rolling over the land as well, each breath filtered and free of all harmful gasses to threaten the Ren’s well-being.

Without any lead aside from knowing the perpetrators most likely resided someplace in this area according to most rumours, there was no other guide than the Force, ultimately winning over technology. A compass to guide the teenage Ren on her journey, it filled her head with powerful sensations each time her eyes shut closed and focus reigned over her mind uninterrupted. After pushing aside the infinite life signatures moving all over the place, concentrated on the unmoving, yet strong presences, the Force was willing to offer a helping hand. Although not persuaded about the cult’s existence yet, thin threads pulled her deeper into the Endless Swamp, the Force itself telling her to go there and uncover whatever kept sending dark ripples in all directions. Something dark resided in these inhospitable, wild lands – was it the Sith artefact, calling for a dark side practitioner to claim it?

The air smelled of ancient evil still, the kind that desired to return and scourge the galaxy once more.

Monotone creaks of amphibians and buzzing made by insects were the only sounds to be heard, an orchestra of wilderness hell-bent on driving its listeners mad. Heavy breaths pushed through the masked blonde’s throat as she came to a halt, muscles voicing their desire for a short rest. Granting the body its wish, Zmej glanced around, finding the nearest piece of solid land that did not sink when treaded upon. There, she momentarily escaped the treacherous marsh’s clutches, armour caked in blackish gunk, and allowed herself a break for a minute or two. The first stop, also marking the first time Zmej’s weapon hand twitched – ever the obedient slave, her lightsaber happily jumped into the outstretched palm, eager to get some action. There was a disturbance, not far away, one she had heard rather than felt; it was difficult to see such things through the Force without specifically searching for them in the first place.

Thoughts of cultists came to mind, images painted by imagination depicted mostly naked savages. Holding her breath, possessing stillness of a statue, the disciple listened.

There it was, the same sound once more. And again. Keeping the weapon asleep, Zmej’s gauntleted fingers wrapped around the metallic cylinder tightly, ready to give the ignition button a loving stroke should the necessity arise. No attacks or more tell-tale signs of battle reached her ears though. Curious, yet cautious, the Ren waded through the swamp once more, headed in the disturbance’s direction, wet sloshes making her company. Gone was the fatigue; working in tandem with adrenaline, the dark side cast such weakness away, preparing its faithful follower for battle.



[member="Darlyn Excron"]

 

[Darlyn Excron]

There was never a quiet moment in swamps like these, there was always.. something. Soft buzzing, croaking, some sign of wildlife. Not to mention the sloshes of his boots wading through the muck, fortunately able to keep at roughly knee or thigh level, as he sank very little into it. Yet after several minutes of walking, Darlyn became distinctly aware of something... wrong. Something fundamentally, completely wrong. He paused where he was, listening extremely carefully to his surroundings.

Yes... there it was. He'd thought he'd heard something off, but it wasn't until he stopped that it made itself clear. A wet, quiet slosh, some ways away from him. Far enough that it was pointless to look around, given the trees would inevitably block his view, and the oppressive bog itself made distant figures difficult to make out clearly. But it was most certainly there. He took a small, deep breath, and began to continue walking. Whoever it was, he wanted to give them a false sense of security, as the cloaked and hooded man continued his way deeper into the Endless Swamp.

Curious after a while, he slowed his pace to a crawl, as if trying to decide whether to make a path adjustment, and began to feel out with the force. Swamps like these, especially like these, were full of life, everything was caked in the force, yet it all had a certain feel to it. His mind poked, and prodded, searching for the figure he knew, or thought he knew, had to be there, somewhere. Yet it seemed like he was.. failing. They were either so similar to the surroundings he couldn't tell the difference, or they were hiding.

Or, as he discovered just before ceasing his search, he hadn't felt carefully enough. There, amidst the natural flow of nature, was something far darker, sinister almost. A sith, a Ren, some one or something that carried the dark with them like a shroud. A burning fire in their heart, so to speak. Darlyn immediately withdrew his mind, preparing for the absolute worst. If they were a Ren, perhaps they might not risk attacking him, if they knew of his position. Yet, they may simply not care... Politics didn't seem to be much their thing.

Reaching to his side, he unclipped his lightsaber and held it calmly as he stopped in a 'clearing'. In the center he could turn to easily see anyone there, and they'd have a hard time approaching without being seen. He was clearly aware he was not alone, as he turned the lightsaber in his hand and looked around himself slowly. Whoever it was had to be aware their cover was blown, and he was banking on them choosing to reveal themself then and there.

[member="Zmej Ren"]

 

[Zmej Ren]

Hunting the signature appeared challenging at first, albeit the task became easier with each step towards the source. First a barely distinguishable shape, the mysterious disturbance slowly turned into a misty silhouette similar to sentient beings. Now, free of doubt, she let her body become a dark side conduit, anger summoning untold amounts of strength to replenish the lost energy. A machine ready to battle and kill, she let fury fuel her advance. Although sinking into the mushy earth, Zmej was like a wild animal – once catching the prey’s scent, nothing could stop her from scoring a kill and feasting on every sensation it promised. There was zero point in trying to sneak up on the unfortunate being about to suffer her wrath, thus the disciple opted for a more direct approach – without a hint of guile, the Ren’s plated form practically declared her entry through a series of loud, wet splashes when she trudged forward, pathway leading straight to her future victim and leaving absolutely no doubt about where her steps were headed.

He looked different from what she had imagined; in place of a naked, blood covered barbarian stood an ordinary man, not what she'd call a cultist. His connection to the Force and lightsaber hilt in hand betrayed his intentions though; whether a Sith who wished to compete for the artefact or one of the cultists, the Ren considered him an enemy. As such, the young woman’s reaction was adequate; an unnoticeable motion of her thumb unleashed a blood red beam of plasma, casting menacing shadows and reflections over the marsh and her own plates of armour. The lightsaber hummed loudly, more so than ordinary weapons associated with Sith or Jedi, crackling streaks of electricity running along the blade’s length in chaotic intervals.

Its glowing red tip protruded the swamp’s murky surface, dragged through the water and hissing in disapproval as thick lines of steam rose ascended to heavens. Loud, announcing her position to everyone in an unspoken challenge, Zmej Ren drew closer, approach slow. Two last steps to bring her onto the semi-solid land and her march came to a halt, keeping a reasonable distance between herself and the stranger. Despite the aggression she oozed into the Force, it became apparent that, much like the unstable lightsaber, it was a leashed beast. Enough tension to be palpable formed between the two like a fragile wall, ready to fall upon the first sign of battle. He still had the advantage of standing upon a small island of steady earth, but such benefit would be voided the moment Zmej made two or three more strides forth.

“The artefact?” Zmej’s distorted voice came through the helmet’s filters, followed by silence dominated by the mask’s blank, yet demanding glare.



[member="Darlyn Excron"]

 

[Darlyn Excron]

Perhaps he had been spending too long around politicians, as the hiss of the woman's lightsaber filled him with a sense of disappointment, rather than excitement. He had turned to stare at her, and could take in her appearance, much what he would've expected. Heavy footsteps and sloshing water, indicative of the figure's heavier armor. Thick, black, intimidating somewhat... though he couldn't help but feel such effects were limited. He'd seen the angry side of a herglic, after all, and a rather massive one at that. Comparatively, the woman didn't have quite as strong an effect. So he managed to keep his calm, offering a polite smile to the woman, not mocking her, but making the ineffectiveness of her intimidation apparent on his face.

Her voice, distorted, offered only two words in questioning. The artifact.. so she too had come in search of the weapon. He ran his thumb over the ignition switch, not engaging his weapon yet as he mulled over his choices. What.. to.... do. He'd much enjoy pummeling the individual's face into the swamp, but unlike the cultists he had no doubt she would end up putting up a fight. And if he got injured, well, the hunt would be over. And if he came back empty handed, he was certain Kay would be disappointed, to say the very least. Perhaps he could speak, in such to ease the tension, avoid conflict until the prize was within sight.

"First Order, I'll assume?" He motioned to her lightsaber, and its violent red blade hissing. She was certainly no jedi, and they were within an easy travel distance to First Order space. "If so I would suggest disengaging now. Our governments are quite the allies, it would be a shame to ruin a prosperous relationship." He'd been at a recent ball, of course, in honor of the First Order soldiers. He'd been seen alongside Kay most of the night, so assuming she held any awareness of the Queen's relationship to her Order, well.. perhaps that alone would prolong the calm.

"As for the artifact, perhaps you could be a little more specific? This planet has quite the history, I'm sure there are thousands of artifacts here for those who would look." Another diffusion of the situation attempt alongside the 'government' card. If neither worked, of course he'd fight it out with the woman.

[member="Zmej Ren"]

 

[Zmej Ren]

More silence.

Without an answer to break it, there was only that disconcerting, cold and expressionless glare. The mask revealed nothing, an eternally patient, yet also eerily unnerving listener. Everything beneath it remained a mystery, turning all assumptions and guesses into equally valid possibilities. The man’s guess was correct, of course – overly so. Naturally, such insight bred suspicion. She hasn’t been informed about another operative – and Zmej knew for certain the man had nothing to do with the order of Ren, her family. Furthermore, the Force painted his dark allegiance, suggesting the possibility of a Sith.

All in all, trudging through a truly endless swamp and accidentally bumping into a sentient who guessed her allegiance on the very first try seemed too much of a coincidence. Perhaps she looked into things too much, but the situation reminded her of another, one where the First’s Order’s enemies also anticipated her arrival. After barely escaping with her life, the blonde had zero desire of going through the same once more, especially since the terrain itself did not allow for comfortable combat. Unlike the last time though, Zmej stood alone, the only trusty ally her lightsaber.

Completely disregarding words of allied governments, the dark disciple further closed the distance between, abandoning the slimy mudhole. Slurps accompanied the transition from one to another; plated boots now treaded land solid enough to support a fight. Extinguishing one disadvantage meant Zmej could allow herself a momentary distraction in form of replying. As if to dissuade from any wrong moves on his part, the disciple raised her cross-shaped hilt, three crimson beams of pure energy releasing a menacing whizz when it cut through empty air.

“You must be mistaken,” she finally spoke, “I am Kayn. A Sith acolyte.”

That should have been his first guess. A Sith, one of the order disrobed of all mystery through the actions of the One Sith. Definitely not the secretive order of Ren.

But what’s been said could not be corrected so easily. Suspicion mixed particularly poorly with anger and Zmej Ren found herself in abundance of both. Unable to chain the dark side’s flames any longer, her free hand reached out in a sudden attempt to telekinetically rob the man of his weapon and add it into her collection. Striking first usually paid off and the pale skinned disciple would take every advantage she could get, unwilling to take any chances.



[member="Darlyn Excron"]

 

[Darlyn Excron]

"Ah, sith then? Best be careful, we're rather close to First Order territory. They're a rather authoritative sort, efficient and brutal. Not too fond of Sith, almost as despised as Jedi, with exceptions of course." He only half believed her words. She could just as easily lie as anyone else, and just as capable of violence. If anything, her declaring herself a Sith rather than a member of the First Order actually put him on edge, he distrusted Sith almost as much as Jedi. It hardly helped his own nerves when the weapon was raised higher, and became a more threatening figure. He was completely on edge, believing if she truly was a sith she may have come to kill him, or force him back into that lifestyle.

The last straw was her attempt to pull free his lightsaber, something he remembered distinctly from his time, temporarily, as a sith acolyte. Her intent to fight was made absolutely clear, and his grip tightened, his own powers activating in moments, firmly keeping his weapon in his hands. For once, his paranoia paid off, he'd have to remember to thank his old Master if he ever got the chance. For now though, he held tightly to the lightsaber, igniting the yellow blade, which hissed as it cut up through the air. "]I'm not to fond of Sith either. So this should be enjoyable, it's been so long since I got to kill someone."

What were his advantages... they were in water, and sinking slightly in swamp at that, at least if she wished to come to actually fight. That was her disadvantage, as she was wearing what looked to be fairly heavy armor. But... if she was willing to stay in the armor, that meant it'd be incredibly strong, worth the weight. And if it was worth the weight, that meant his grenades were likely to be a little less than useful. Still, perhaps he could get around that, after all...

He chuckled and offered a shrug. "You really shouldn't just attack anyone you meet in the swamps. You might be shocked what you find." He laughed a bit as he held out his left hand, sending bolts of lightning from his fingertips, aimed at the woman standing there. Hopefully it would slam into her chest, and quickly end the fight. Of course he was quite prepared for things to go wrong, holding tightly onto his lightsaber to keep it in his hands as he sent bolt after bolt in her direction, no matter if she moved. Each bolt was no more than a half second in length, as he'd drain himself quickly of his concentration if he tried to sustain it.

[member="Zmej Ren"]

 

[Zmej Ren]

He talked too much. Combined with terrible puns, the result birthed irritation; Zmej found her chalice of anger mercifully filled to the brim, providing a secure income of energy for a while.

Entering a standard opening stance, Zmej prepared herself for whatever his intentions were, standing ready. Even though she did not recognize the motion of his empty hand, unable to predict the incoming attack, she still understood a trick was about to leave his sleeve. Brief, yet powerful, the bolt of energy similar to lightning swiftly tore its way forth, arcing towards her with deadly accuracy and terrifying speed. Difficult to block, definitely, but not impossible – and after the first dispersed against the heavily humming blade of her lightsaber, all others behaved in similar patterns. Still, this was an entirely new experience; Zmej had never seen nor heard about such ability, thus treated is as blocking any other projectile. Flashes of white illuminated her mask every time the unleashed dark side energy crashed into the superheated plasma. One shot of lightning like energy after another, all met the disciple’s scarlet blade.

Once the last strike kissed the deadly tool and died, Zmej retaliated in kind. Keeping the straightforward attitude, the woman charged, an animal blindly throwing itself against the enemy. Specks of dirt flew off the ground under her boots; a wild slash ripped through the humid air and let the stranger hear her lightsaber’s fiery song up close. Zmej Ren remained aware agility played against her, leaving the rare piece of solid ground meant fighting massively disadvantaged. That meant she could not allow her opponent to leave either, for without armour, he would experience much greater freedom inside the marsh’s murky waters. Burning through the accumulated energy, Zmej’s gloved palm curled into a fist in hopes of telekinetically pulling the man towards her in one forceful shove. It’d stop his retreat, unbalance his footing, anything to gain the upper hand.

Unknown to either combatant, others have already surrounded the duel’s location. Moving like shadows, one with the swamp, the cultists closed in on the two. Saliva dripping down their chins clearly revealed their hunger and eagerness to chew on fresh, juicy meat. It’s been too long since they last feasted on those delicious Force users – and if the malevolent god they worshipped listened to their pleas, all would gain the strength of the two combatants, turning sensitive to the currents of the Force.


[member="Darlyn Excron"]

 

[Darlyn Excron]

What an opening to a duel, it was violent, quick, without a hint of delay. It made the ex sith's blood begin to boil over in excitement, and naturally made his river of flame that was his force signature begin to burn ever brighter. Her rush into the water only made him smile wide, what a tactical blunder she had made. The moment she stepped in, she reached with the force to pull him closer, and his own resistances weren't quite to the point that he could easily resist such an action. Still, he only stumbled forward somewhat, managing to catch himself before he tripped over a root below the surface of the water, and raise his lightsaber to block whatever strike she might follow her action with.

Regardless of if she took full advantage of the momentary advantage or not, Darlyn would act on the defensive for several moments, to gauge her abilities in lightsaber combat. His own may need refinement, but he was confident he still outclassed such crude forms as these, if only out of practice and training he went through himself. After several strikes, Darlyn would plant his back foot, and step forward to retaliate. First he struck at the woman's right shoulder, only to spin the weapon around to strike at her left. Provided both strikes were blocked, he then raised the weapon high and brought it down at her head in a heavy overhand strike, only to release a hand and lower it to her chest level, and muster up enough energy to fire a point-blank force push. Naturally every strike could be countered, in fact given his own lack of recent lightsaber experience it could be countered fairly easily.

Even so, it did at least get him distracted, as he was unaware of the cultists beginning to encircle them. Smart little buggers, waiting for these powerful entities to exhaust themselves with one another. Were he aware of more than just [member="Zmej Ren"], he might've congratulated them on clever hunting.

 

[Zmej Ren]

His stumble worked like a highlight of weakness, one begging to be exploited. Answering its plea, Zmej brought her sparking blade down; a heavy crash against the stranger’s hastily formed defence. Given he wore no effective means of protecting himself against lightsabers, it would have effortlessly cleaved him in half if not for swiftly raising his own saber. Both beams of plasma crackled and hissed upon locking in a kiss like inseparable lovers.

It was a short-lived relationship; Zmej withdrew the weapon and raised it high again, immediately swinging its length wildly to make another contact with the man’s weapon, intent on breaking through his defences by continuously hammering his form with mighty blows that held zero resemblance to Makashi. For all the plated armour, her moves radiated dark energy, unnatural strength and speed. Cunning and intelligence would also be tested – while physical prowess played the decisive role, outsmarting one’s opponent and dirty tactics held enough value to grant victory as well.

A chance to recover would not be granted. Losing equalled death and Zmej had zero intention of picking that option. His daring advance forth only resulted in locked blades. Not the best result for her – facing a physically superior opponent, the disciple of Ren sidestepped, pulling her blade out of the lock before he could overpower her. The plated figure spun on her heel immediately to face the stranger again, slashing downwards in order to catch his attack aimed for her shoulder.

With their blades locked once more in a struggle kept in safe distance from their bodies, the only logical option was to charge. Indeed, Zmej used her suit of armour as a weapon, quickly moving forward to essentially crash into her opponent, intent to drive her shoulder into his face and throw him off balance, possibly ruin his expression and turn it bloody.


[member="Darlyn Excron"]

 

[Darlyn Excron]

He could feel it, the moment their blades became locked in a momentary conflict of strength. He outclassed her, at least enough that he could take advantage of it. For all her armor, she lacked the strength to back up the forcibly slowed style of combat. Even her vicious attacks came without the same, punch, as his own. A casual swipe seemed to be enough to keep her at bay... he'd be sure to take advantage. Though in that moment there was something more concerning than pressing his clear advantage, she moved to bash into him.

A strange tactic, he thought, to force one's self closer to the engagement of deadly lightsabers, but she clearly had a plan in mind. That could only be bad for him, balance here was life and death. Yet her attempt to close the gap also left her less time to react... he grinned to himself and shifted his grip to hold her lightsaber at bay, whilst his left hand opened, fingers splayed out. His arm was well and away from the blades, but close enough to provide as little time as possible. With that cleared, he summoned up what he dared and released another bolt of sith lightning at her body, now somewhat submerged in water, and very close to his own body.

Unfortunately for the both of them, shortly after his arm began to raise to spend even more energy, the cultists made their own move. The fully completed circle had slowly been chanting for a while now, and whatever strange powers they had began to create the sensation of drowsiness, and the need to sleep, for those encircled. Darlyn managed to hold on just long enough to take two steps back, before becoming overwhelmed and passing out under the mental strain.

[member="Zmej Ren"]

 

[Zmej Ren]

She hadn’t accounted for outside interference, too focused on the fight at hand to notice the cultists surround them. Speaking in terrible tongue that birthed a sudden, powerful urge to fall asleep, the barely sentient beings relentlessly continued chanting without a pause. Despite the adrenaline pumping in her veins, heart racing, Zmej swiftly felt the spell’s effects, succumbing faster than her mental defences flared up to shatter the telepathic assault. Breaking her series of strikes, she parted in a doomed attempt at stopping the chant, now fully aware it’s been infecting her mind like a deadly disease. Putting a stop to it became priority. Two feeble swings through empty air as if fighting invisible opponents only her eyes could see and she dropped down, unconscious before even landing on the mushy ground. Even in her unconscious slumber, strange words continued singing through the woman's mind.

Sulphur yellow orbs fluttered open once consciousness came back and brought a plethora of sensations. It was uncomfortably hot, the humid kind that made one sweat immediately and carried the swamp's foul stench. All thoughts felt dizzy, thus seeing the surroundings didn’t appear out of the ordinary at first. It was after the blonde collected her thoughts that panic seeped into her heart. Around her stood a wooden cage and the first attempt at moving gave away her hands have been tied behind her back. Tugging at the rope produced no results, leading to frustration. Worse yet – no plates of armour shielded her form, no bodyglove either. Robbed of everything, the young disciple yanked at the rope once more, furious. If nothing else, the loss of armour had a particularly violent effect on her mind. She swore, kicked the wooden floor, spat promises of death. To no avail – the few cultists surrounding the prison paid her no mind, perhaps not even proficient in Basic enough to grasp the meaning of her words.

Wearing nothing only underlined how vulnerable she was, dissuaded from the very thought of trying her chances and attacking the madmen. With her hands tied to the cage, no weapon in sight, robbed of all equipment and weapons, the Force remained the only ally. Zmej still held the ranks of a disciple though; in a way, her hands were necessary to summon the Force and use it. If not for the binds, she would have called upon the dark side’s crushing might and choked the life out of everyone in sight. Possibly even her fellow prisoner, who found himself in similar predicament. A brief glance towards his face revealed the man she had fought earlier. Now the enemies shared this miserable, damp cell. Most infuriating.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, the Supreme Leader’s Hand shut her eyes closed, deep breaths drawing in the stench of decay. Zmej knew too well directing the anger promised much better results than letting it control her, clouding each thought, thus she meditated. Her focus concentrated on anger, the only weapon left. Truly, the pale blonde’s emotions burned in fury, begging to be released upon every single lifeform responsible for her capture - it would be a powerful tool once unleashed.


[member="Darlyn Excron"]

 

[Darlyn Excron]

Darlyn groaned, listening to the woman shouting and cursing at anything within earshot. It was, annoying to say the least. But he let her run her mouth until her throat was either too sore, or she had nothing more to scream. After she finally stopped, he sighed quietly and sat up a bit. "Clever hunters, you have to admit. Letting us distract and exhaust one another." He chuckled a little and shifted in place, double checking his full range of movement. More than he'd have given but, well, it worked well enough. His arms behind his back, looped around one of the bars. Wooden cage, and absolutely nothing on him. Hardly a pleasant situation. Though he had quite the range of movement still available to him, especially since he didn't notice any bindings on his ankles. Curious choice, perhaps they simply didn't have the extra rope.

Silence filled the air as he tried to come up with a plan. "So, Kayn was what you called yourself yes?" He began to twist his hand around to feel the wood, testing how firm it was. Fairly strong, not terribly so but more than enough to make his own physical strength pointless. "You really sith? I've met more than one, I can't say they'd ever let someone with as crude a style out hunting artifacts, even if they are an acolyte. Usually they have some standards for who they let live." Was he taunting her? Perhaps, but his tone was more curious than taunting.

Another few moments, perhaps just enough to curse at him, or respond. Then another question, "You aren't a fan of dying today, are you?"

[member="Zmej Ren"]

 

[Zmej Ren]

“You obviously don’t know much about Sith,” replied the blonde, sulphur eyes revealing themselves once more and giving the man a hard stare, ignoring him further as her hands tried to fight the rope. Untying it was a matter of life and death, thus Zmej fully focused on combining her sense of touch with the Force instead of exchanging pointless banter with the stranger. Although he faced the same fate as her, the disciple of Ren did not consider him an ally – her own survival had priority over anything else. That, and wiping out the cult, thus ending their threat. Petite fingers played with the rope tying her hands together as the golden-haired disciple slowly drew a mental image of how the bindings looked like.

Solving the puzzle became much harder with so many savages nearby. Pausing in her current task, Zmej Ren peeked around through the Force. Living signatures immediately sang to her, though her mind paid them no attention, searching for something different. The distinct signature of her faithful weapon was there, but weak, faint. Locating it among so many disturbances proved challenging, not impossible though. The bond between the Ren and her weapon’s crystal resembled a thin thread in the Force, connecting one to the other. Once the blonde knew its general direction, the painfully slow process of untying herself continued. Many thoughts raced through her mind, forming a plan that was to start as soon as she escaped the cage.

Zmej’s nose picked a distinct scent of smoke. While preferable over the swamp’s odour, it signed exactly what the cult wished to do with its prisoners. Rushed pace hurried her efforts, no time to lose. When the knot finally gave away, immense sensation of relief washed over her. Whoever came to the cage to bring the cattle to slaughter wouldn’t expect her to defend herself – after all, she had not studied Teräs Käsi for nothing. If all worked well, she'd be free, her chance to get to the lightsaber that called to her through the Force like a child begging its mother to come. Continuing with the act of a defeated, shackled prisoner, the girl calmly rested, mustering up all energy she could through anger and hatred.


[member="Darlyn Excron"]

 

[Darlyn Excron]

"Geeze, tough crowd. Just thought it'd be nice to talk to someone outside of a cannibal that doesn't seem to understand Basic." He shrugged and went to work on the knots on his own bindings. The wood would make too loud a sound to simply break and use as a sharpened stick to cut his bonds, as he had originally intended to do. Had it been made of wet, weak wood he might've tried it. Instead, he took some time to undo the knot, his thicker, less slender fingers were having a hard time to undo the bindings, not to mention he got to work later than the woman did.

Even so, unlike her he didn't pause, and remained calm through the entire process. Soon enough, he too was completely freed from the rope, letting it fall into the swamp behind him as he breathed a sigh of relief. Excellent hunters, terrible knot-tiers, it would seem. He rubbed his wrists behind his back, looking around at the few cultists nearby. There weren't many at the cage itself, most seemed to be scattered over.. whatever kind of camp they were in at this point. It worked fine for him, he just had to find a way out of the cage before they all noticed he was free.

Slowly he sat back, letting time pass. He couldn't break out of the cage without alerting them, but he was counting on their ignorance to set him free. And sure enough, after some time the guards seemed to be drawn away. Two moved to open the cage, and began entering the rather large cage to collect their night's meal. Darlyn had taken note of his companion of sorts freeing her own wrists, and counted on her to be intelligent enough to realize a moment for freedom when it presented itself.

In a flash, Darlyn moved up from his position, catching the guard that came for him by surprise as he tackled him. Before the man could cry out, Darlyn clamped a hand over his mouth, and gripped his head tightly as the other arm grabbed his shoulder. With some exertion, he twisted the head sharply, and managed to snap the man's neck. Quick, silent. He glanced over at the woman, and the second guard, to see if she, too, managed to take down her guard without difficulty.

[member="Zmej Ren"]

 

[Zmej Ren]

Their chance came when two cannibals approached the cage, opening it and walking in to retrieve the sacrifices. Instead of coming among lambs prepared for slaughter, the two have found two deadly predators. Zmej’s colleague must have managed to free himself as well, given he was the first to act, swiftly subduing one savage. The act left one standing – after the initial shock and surprise wore off, the man launched himself at the recently freed prisoner. Distracted, he would be an easy target for the trained disciple of Ren. Without making a sound, she rose, pale body contrasting the cage’s dark, moist wood. Her corrupt gaze fell upon the remaining opponent, a look that could kill, yet a move to intercept had yet to be made.

She hesitated upon seeing the cultist’s tall, athletic form.

For all her training, trying out Teräs Käsi posed a considerable risk of simply being overpowered by the physically superior man. Unwilling to take that chance, Zmej raised her hand and curled it into a fist, mimicking an invisible grip that squeezed the savage’s throat. All struggle against the overpowering might of the dark side proved fruitless; a swift collapse on his knees accompanied the cultist’s vain attempts at removing the rope coiled around his neck. Several desperate attempts at drawing air followed, none successful; eyes wide open for everyone to see the spark of life slowly extinguished until his gaze became void of all emotion. Thudding against the cage’s wooden floor face first, the cannibal’s motionless form remained still, never to get up again.

As it should be.

Eliciting a sigh of relief, adrenaline still actively pumping through her veins, the blonde woman displayed no further hesitation and swiftly escaped the cage. Guided by the Force, her first destination was nothing else than whatever place the captors used to store their weapon and armour in. Naturally, completing such task required a certain degree of discretion. While usually found on the front line, Zmej knew how to sneak and hide. The rigid training had prepared her for many eventualities, this being one of them.


[member="Darlyn Excron"]

 

[Darlyn Excron]

Hesitation, would she be a liability in this escape? For a brief moment, Darlyn contemplated sounding an alarm, and leaving the woman to whatever fate would befall her, only to have his concerns wiped away as she opted to use the Force to take down the second cultist. He smiled lightly, and slowly dragged the two bodies slightly further from the cage, to submerge them fully in the swamp rather than have them in plain view. A brief few seconds, perhaps, was all that could be bought with this, but it could still mean the difference between life and death.

Or at least between dying with a rod in your hand or a fully ignited lightsaber. In either case, the fighting chance sounded far preferable. With this taken care of, it was only natural for Darlyn to slip into the background, calmly moving through scenery as he followed instinct, and the woman to a certain degree. Unlike her earlier approach, the water gave little more than a soft reminder that he was there, hardly more than normal for a swamp full of life. It was, oddly relaxing, helping to calm his mind further even as the stakes rose with every passing moment.

And for the most momentary of seconds, a cultist nearly ruined it all. Walking past Darlyn, he seemed to spot something unnatural, and clearly was concerned. Before [member="Zmej Ren"] could be outed, however, he reached out and grasped the cultist in much the same fashion as he had the first. However rather than simply breaking his neck, he held him firmly, arm wrapped around his neck as he slowly felt each attempt to breathe, even vain attempts to bite him until he would let go.

By some miracle they didn't seem to be heard, as the last attempt to breathe escaped the cultist's lips, and he could feel the energy drain from him. Setting him against a tree, Darlyn took a breathe and glanced around. Surely they'd made some distance, hadn't they? It felt like ages since they had been in the cage... though of course in moments like these even short distances could feel like centuries...

 

[Zmej Ren]

Crouched, the blonde’s lithe form sneaked from behind one tree to another, staying out of sight and intending for it to remain that way. Her breath stopped each time a cannibal’s gaze brushed over her surroundings. Hitting the dirt and remaining motionless was a necessity, mentally praying the savage did not see through the lush green flora of the Endless Swamp. At times such attempts at hiding seemed desperate and doomed to fail, panic threatened to take over, yet in those moments the dark side disciple remembered Kaeshana. Defeating two Jedi with her thigh shattered served as a testament to her skills and remarkable determination to survive and succeed despite the overwhelming odds. In a way, the current situation posed only little challenge, one stemming from the Ren’s inexperience more than anything. Indeed, once reunited with her weapon, there would be no stopping her.

As she crept further, Zmej cast a brief glance at the other prisoner. Whatever happened, obtaining a weapon before he did was absolutely crucial. Without a bit of trust between the two, there was no telling what would happen should he be the one to seize his saber first – and Zmej had no intention of finding out. Turning her gaze back, brushing away stray foliage that stood in her path, revealing six savages standing around their object of worship, dancing in a strange, incomprehensible fashion. The girl’s sight locked with a primitive altar in the middle of swirling bodies, made of bone and skin. Upon it rested nothing else than several lightsabers. The intimately familiar cross-shaped hilt called to her similarly to children crying after their mother, though the disciple’s attention remained fixed upon another lightsaber. Double bladed and fairly ordinary from the looks of it, though radiating a powerful aura similar to sentient beings almost.

Answering her blade’s calls, the young woman’s hand reached out. At first the lightsaber shook unnoticeably, but after fully seized by her telekinetic abilities, the weapon snapped to life, screeching and sowing death as it moved from the altar into the Ren’s open palm. Two unfortunate souls to find themselves in its trajectory were split in half. Prematurely torn from their ecstatic dance, the rest turned in her direction, but by that time Zmej launched herself from the vegetation and charged.



[member="Darlyn Excron"]