Cold No More.

[Darth Ferus]

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Nar Shadda ​

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Underground trade hub. Ruled by Hutts and Bounty Hunters a like. Any kind of business was held here, and it was here the red skinned man liked to frequent. He could find himself pilots or mercenaries to do what he needed done, and there was always a job. Ferox walked around the hub as he scanned those around him, wondering who could do what he needed done. Yet as he looked around, something odd was found. Someone who looked completely out of place in such a modern world.

Without hesitation the Sith walked up to the stranger, [member="Bjorn Heartholm"] , and offered a simple bow of his head. "You're not from around here, kid."

 

[Bjorn Heartholm]

The cargo-ship carrying Bjorn landed on a planet that he had never witnessed before. Of course, he had never set foot of off Belsavis and so knew nothing else of the galaxy that awaited him. The planet was bustling with activity, the likes of which were incomprehensible to Bjorn. He accompanied the men from the ship to a large complex filled with people and species he could have only imagined from one of his mother's stories. People sat and drank at the bars, laughing at times, or having serious conversations at others.

It was then when the man with red skin approached Bjorn. He gave a curt nod and spoke, but it was then when Bjorn noticed something strange about this person, something different compared to the others in the room. This fellow seemed to be radiating the same power as Bjorn, an exquisite dance of darkness surrounded him as he spoke, curling and twisting. Bjorn knew that this was somebody much like him, although completely different. He snapped out of his trance just in time to respond, "You are correct. I am known as Bjorn Heartholm, this place is unfamiliar to me. May I ask your name?" Bjorn questioned. He wondered if the man could sense the same powers in him.

| [member="Darth Ferox"] |

 

[Darth Ferus]

"Most just call me Krest, so you can do the same. What brings you here of all places, [member="Bjorn Heartholm"] ?" As the Sith spoke his eyes traveled across the Vikings gear. Simplistic weapons of an era long past, yet pristine like it was just made yesterday. It was almost as if Bjorn had stepped through a time traveling portal and ended up here, on Nar Shadda. The thought made the Zabrak chuckle a bit out loud, though he seemed to dismiss it rather quickly.

"And, of course, do you sense what I sense in you? Almost like a sixth sense?"

 

[Bjorn Heartholm]

People wandered past the two, entrenched in conversation, going about their daily lives without a second glance. "I am seeking my own fate, Krest. After the extinction of my family and tribe, I left my planet Belsavis and found my way to this strange place." Curiosity overcame Bjorn and as if he had noticed, Krest questioned Bjorn about about the power he had felt within the two. "Yes, I am unfamiliar with this sensation radiating from another, this... sense has accompanied me for months now, whispering in mine ear while i would hunt. It is good to learn that I am not alone with this burden amongst the galaxy."

| [member="Darth Ferox"] |

 

[Darth Ferus]

"Well, I wouldn't say it's a burden. There is power there to be taken by those who want it." A disarming smile took over the features of the Zabrak as he nodded to his own words. But his blue eyes shifted to their surroundings, mostly to the crowds of people. "I understand you and I have just met, but how would you feel about learning what I mean?" With a turn of a heel Ferox made his way to a nearby empty bar. He looked back to [member="Bjorn Heartholm"] expectantly shortly after though, not even waiting for an answer.

 

[Bjorn Heartholm]

The man seemed inviting, yet cold at the same time as he turned and walked towards the bar, "As you wish." Bjorn stated, following in tow. He took a seat upon one of the empty stool's and faced Krest. "So... what is it that you wish to show me?" He questioned, unclasping his cloak and laying it upon his lap, revealing the rest of his two-handed broadsword on his back, the large mass of bone gleaming against the bar lights.

| [member="Darth Ferox"] |

 

[Darth Ferus]

"Simple tricks really. Something to help open your mind." He sat down beside [member="Bjorn Heartholm"] before motioning for the bartender to pour him his usual. A glass of Whiskey was presented and placed, but the Zabrak made no move to pick it up. "This.. Sixth sense is simply known as the Force to most. Probably heard of it at some point. Float things with your mind. Shoot lightning from your fingers. Nothin I've ever been interested in, but it does have its uses. Strength. Speed. The like." Holding up a hand Krest called his drink to it, and casually took a sip. "The sword on your back. What's it made of?"

 

[Bjorn Heartholm]

Bjorn watched with intrigue, "That's quite the power you have there, and you say that this power is also within me?" He asked curiously. Bjorn noticed the interest that this man had for Bjorn's blade. "Ahh." He began, unsheathing the bone sword from his back, unawares as to the other people milling about them and as to how they would react, in all honesty, he simply did not care. "My father used to weave tales of how it was made from the bone of the last Mythosaur, but even as a child, I did not fall to this naivety." He let out a hearty chuckle as he recollected the lost memories of his father.

| [member="Darth Ferox"] |

 

[Darth Ferus]

"A Mythosaur? It's very name suggests folklore. Then again, anything is possible in this galaxy." Krest spoke in a bemused tone, a smile on his face as he took another drink. Regardless on what it was made out of, it was a well crafted weapon. The weapon of a warrior. "Regardless, it's a good sword. Do you know how to use it?" Despite going to the most empty bar on Nar Shadda, it was anything but. After all, this was a Hutt world, no place would be empty. The few patrons cast a glance over to the unsheathed weapon and mumbled to themselves, but they didn't seem to care. Here, weapons were normal.

 

[Bjorn Heartholm]

"A simple test then?" And without waiting for a response, Bjorn easily hefted the blade over his head, bringing it's gleaming edge to a halt mere inches from the man's crimson face. Bjorn grinned as he spun, the blade arcing downwards through the air as it cleaved a nearby bar-stool in half, the wooden seat crumbling into nothing but a pile of sticks. A few nearby patrons let out choked gasps at the sudden defiance of the quiet, it's not everyday somebody turns a stool into a pile of debris in such a display. Bjorn returned his blade to it's sheath with a satisfying clink, and took his seat once again, returning his glance to his new acquaintance. "I was quite the chair-slyer back home." He said, letting loose another brief laugh before the situation returned to normality, if you could call it that.

| [member="Darth Ferox"] |

 

[Darth Ferus]

A brow raised as [member="Bjorn Heartholm"] pointed the blade for him. For a moment, the Sith was prepared to lash out, but the boy instead turned the blade on a nearby chair, cutting it to pieces with a single swipe. Impressive, both for the blade and the boy. But not entirely what he had meant for a task. None the less, the red man chuckled at the light humor before shaking his head.

"What I had meant for the test wasn't as simple as cutting up some wood. I have a job here in town that involves killing some people. If that doesn't bother you, you could come assist me in killing these gangbangers and show me what you really know about battle."

 

[Bjorn Heartholm]

"Aye" Bjorn responded, if not a little embarrassed yet proud at what this Krest thought he could do, "If these gangbangers are an issue that must be dealt with then I shall lend my blade." Simply put, Bjorn wanted this opportunity to prove himself to Krest, who also seemed a powerful combatant, and could provide Bjorn with the tools and skills to achieve.

Bjorn stood from his seat, the hustle of the trading hub seeming to slow as the night dragged on. He lifted the glass of alcohol that the bartender had made for him in the meantime and downed it in one, thick gulp. "Shall we depart?" He asked.

| [member="Darth Ferox"] |

 

[Darth Ferus]

"Of course." A smile was offered to [member="Bjorn Heartholm"] as the Zabrak too finished his own drink. Truth be told, the gang he was planning to have the boy assist with eliminating was one of many, but their style of combat and life was more fit to testing what Ferox wanted to see in the Valkiri. In a way, he had planned it. Just, for his other acolytes, not this prospect.

He stood and would lead the way from the bar to their target. "They're called Blackarm Snakes. Odd name, but it does match how they choose to arm themselves. Poisoned daggers, swords, throwing knives. In a time of blasters, they carved their path using material weapons simply because they always had the element of surprise on their side. They don't show unless they think they can win."

Smart, almost assassin like. Perhaps Ophidia would be proud. "As such, we're going to make it seem like they can win, and ambush them. You'll go in alone, lure them out, and I'll come in to help clean up."

 

[Bjorn Heartholm]

An hour later...

Bjorn had been briefed on his role in this scheme, and so here he was, cautiously treading the back streets of the planet that Krest had called Nar Shadda... alone. While his bulk and large blade would appear threatening to most common muggers and other scrabble who roamed the streets at this hour, he would appear as easy pickings for a well-organised gang skilled in stealth and surprise tactics. Intentionally walking to a dead end, Bjorn turned to see a single man standing at the entrance to the alley, blocking off his exit.

"A little lost, boy?" The man sneered in an almost serpentine tone. Bjorn was beginning to see why they were known as the Blackarm Snakes, everything about them appeared deceitful. Bjorn began to hear more noise now, a low drone that seemed to gradually increase in frequency. It took him awhile to realise that the drone was the whispering in his head, telling him to kill this man where he stood. That was the plan...

"Did you hear me?" The man hissed, agitation that his little game was not working grew in his voice. "That's a nice blade you have there, it'll look mighty fine in my collection!" He grinned, obviously growing bored with the charade and deciding that now was the proper time to attack. However Bjorn had expected it, and had unsheathed his blade as the man unfurled a gleaming dagger, throwing it through the air towards the Valkyri. Bjorn's blade arced downwards just in time to deflect the knife, sending it skittering into the ground. The man's calm temperate was now gone, anger began seeping across his face, and it showed in his posture, clenched and firm.

Bjorn instead decided to relax his body, narrowing his eyes at his opponent as if to say, come get some. And with that he broke, the man charged forward, drawing another dagger from his leather coat as he attempted to slice at Bjorn's exposed throat. Bjorn sidestepped a fraction before the blade would have connected, twirling and heaving his own down as the man fell past, unbalanced. In one, fluid movement, Bjorn had cleaved the exposed arm right from the man's body. He dropped to his knees, letting out a grotesque scream of pain that sent his comrades running. More were coming...

| [member="Krest"] |

 

[Darth Ferus]

Ferox had been watching from above, his blue eyes ever focused on [member="Bjorn Heartholm"] and his actions. Of course, the red man wasn't just up there sightseeing. As the scream echoed through the ally his job was revealed. Gunman congregated on the nearby balconies, silent. So this was how these Blackarm Snakes grew so quickly. While their opponents were focused on the dagger and poison welding foes below, their snipers would pick them off one by one. Sly snakes.

The form of the Red Assassin would drop down upon one of the snipers, his blade puncturing the man's throat before any sound could be uttered. War did not want to interrupt the test below, and he certainly would not let these petty snipers intervene. The remaining three would meet their deaths at the hand of the Assassin, each taken down systematically as Krest jumped from balcony to balcony. Blood would drip down from above, but there would be no sound to alert Bjorn on what had transpired.

Or the group that came barreling down the alleyway to confront him. A bemused smile formed on the Assassins face as he sat down beside one of his kills, now simply watching once again. He would continue to keep the rooftops clear, but he would not join the battle below just yet.

 

[Bjorn Heartholm]

The others began forward, knives at the ready. Bjorn had trained all his life, teaching himself swordplay in between working and hunting, however he had never faced a real opponent before, one with the intent on ending his very existence. Bjorn welcomed the challenge. Two of them attacked first, attempting to size up his skills and abilities, or lack there of. Bjorn gave them what they were seeking, a hefty blade mere inches from the face of one of the grunts. They split, skirting either direction of the Valkyri in an attempt to force him to focus on one while the other attacked and the undefended back. Bjorn had devised this tactic as well, and aimed to counter it.

With a mighty swing, Bjorn spun the blade in an arc, as he turned. The man in front managed to dodge the attack, but the one behind was not so lucky. Unprepared for a counter-attack such as this, he received a clean slice through his midriff. The voices screamed low whispers at the river of red that gushed from his stomach, demanding more.

Turning back to the other goon who was just recovering from dodging the attack, Bjorn crushed downwards, the simple dagger failing any sort of parry. As his blade came down into the man's skull and the audible crunch echoed out, Bjorn began to realise how this gang fought, relying more on speed in their attack than power. If Bjorn could disable their fast movement, they would be crushed.

Now all he needed was an opportunity...

| [member="Krest"] |

 

[Darth Ferus]

Two on one? And still won. A smile formed on his lips as he watched how efficiently [member="Bjorn Heartholm"] took care of the pair. Yet there were still more, coming down the alleyway to meet this would be target. But, something was wrong for them. Their snipers should have taken care of this man long before the other two were cut down. They looked between one another, and the one in the front pulled free a blaster, leveling it at the swordsman's chest.

It was then that the Zabrak chose to enter the fight below. Still from his perch he lifted a hand, and the Force swelled around the gunman's throat. With only that as a warning he was lifted into the air, his throat crushing below an invisible weight. He grasped at nothing, trying to pry what ever it was chocking him. Fear filled his eyes as he was unable to, and his throat was crushed with a loud snap.

Krest jumped down as the corpse hit the ground, and he stood behind Bjorn with a frown plastered on his face and a look of grim determination in his eyes. The snap hiss of his red lightsaber filled the air with a hum as he looked forward to the thugs. "Careful of above. They use snipers, and will probably have more take position soon."

 

[Bjorn Heartholm]

With three men now lying lifeless and broken on the floor of the alley, Bjorn peered up at the rest of the gang, expecting a full on assault. A chance to prove his skills. Instead, he was greeted with a blaster aimed directly at his chest. Damn, he though to himself, there's no way I'll reach them before being shot. Just as it seemed the man was about to squeeze the trigger, he dropped it, instead reaching for his throat as the life slowly drained from his body. His body contorted as he was slowly lifted to the air, the only noise being his gurgling struggles, ending with an audible pop that once again returned silence to the street as the others watched on in horror. Bjorn only gazed in morbid curiosity.

The silence was broken with the appearance of Krest. Suddenly, a red blaze of light streaked from his side and a low hum rang out, emanating from the weapon. It took Bjorn a few seconds to focus and understand just what exactly this magnificence was, a blade of burning red light. Bjorn diverted his gaze back to the group of men as Krest explained the situation. Whether they were staring in foreboding dismay, or in grim resolve and hope for assistance in the form of more snipers, Bjorn did not know. But fight or flight, he waited for their next move all the same.

| [member="Krest"] |

 

[Darth Ferus]

The red blade of the Zabrak soared over the head of [member="Bjorn Heartholm"] just as another gun shot went off. A growl escaped the Sith's throat as he deflected the laser back into it's sender above. More snipers had already arrived. At least there was only the one, so far. "Move, now." Krest ordered the Valkyri without any hesitation. This had become a rather threatening fight for the pair. More importantly, the three ahead finally gained the nerve to move in now that their snipers seemed to be coming back.

Plasma hummed again as the Sith blocked another shot, his frown deepening. He shouldn't have jumped down so soon apparently.

 

[Bjorn Heartholm]

Krest spoke, and Bjorn followed. Taking flight toward their only exit, through the group of men. Bjorn cleaved the two in front as he barreled into the ones behind, clearing a path to escape. He'd caught the men unprepared, not expecting such a sudden decision, the remainder had barely reached for their pockets and jackets before Bjorn had reached them, protecting himself from any sniper fire while smashing through the crowd.

| [member="Krest"] |