Nevermore {Open}

[Blake Morrigan]

Ke'lai​

Like a damaged reel of videotape, a broken record spinning feebly over the fissure with ugly static warbling, sunrise for the shadows arrived with repetition capable of deadening even the brightest eyes into some dim, docile, sheep-like compliance, twilight a shade pulled at predictable, timed intervals and condemned to be hatefully rejected by the destroyer for what it was, what it meant. Squabbling dogs nibbling their ticks, jockeying for position, rutting to produce piss-soaked replicas of themselves, they had no power here, and likewise she could only suffer them while slaughtering or torturing the odd, meaningless clone that wandered too close, rather than vaporize life in a vicious snake of teeth from which a thousand tiny soldiers, the insects, would emerge to swallow everything, the crippled victims negligible substitutes that failed even in their rawest screams and pleas and rages to provide anything worthwhile for her other than bland sustenance.

Even had she possessed the mental capacity to muse consciously on all this destructive nonsense, there would be no means to such an end. What did the wolves have but their dens, their hunts, their skittish fear and inevitable extinction? Blake was nothing, said nothing, tried her best to 'feel' nothing no matter how much it hurt...In the end she knew nothing and so now played the part of an obedient slave spectacularly, trudging aimlessly through the muck with her mind a misty, vapid haze, no memories and no conviction,the blackflies, the worshippers, those who commanded and dominated...

And so she moved wearing her common outfit...black jacket, boots, white shirt, ivory pants and a red scarf that she always wore...eye swollen shut and plump like a plumb...bruised, broken...the girl did what she had to do in order to survive. Scars healed...but death? Death was all that awaited her if she failed...and if she succeeded in her goals...if she finally achieved her one and only goal...she'd still probably die. But in the end that was all part of the plan...right? Noble sacrifice for the sake of some greater goal?

When it was all said and done she was going to die...and she was ok with this. Over many sleepless nights she had accepted this as her destiny...her end game. But not without the complete obliteration of her oppressors. And so it was with an utterly dead-eyed expression that she'd face the lump of tendon on her radar tonight, jaws slack on an almost bewildered pant that amplified the hideous wheeze always slithering from her throat. The bustle of the Ecumenopolis continuously ringing in her ears. Her silver gaze drew upwards to the buildings that reached for the clouds...it is here she would remain for now...in the slums of her home...with the trash. Riff raff had no business in the upper recesses...and likewise they had no business here. But slowly...slowly she'd climb the later...she'd get close to those in power. A slave she may be, a tool? Perhaps...but if one thought of her as a defenseless girl then they were horribly mistaken. She may not of knew how to wield a blade shoot a weapon or utilize the force...but that did not disqualify her as a potential candidate for taking a life. Her mind pulsed...brain throbbing against her inner helm.

Skull was pounding, her brain reeling with sloshes she could almost in her madness experience, and she halted to consider the route she wanted to take to get her...'masters' favorite lunch, her eyes narrowed in unblinking calculation. The streets were busier today...likely because of all the visitors they had gotten from the inner rims.

Blake scoffed, tugging up her red jacket and pulling the hood over her eyes to hide the bruises...

No one needed to know...her pain was a means to an end. As long as she got the results she needed. And as her journey went on and she neared the old restaurant which seemed to be a rather popular hangout for notorious crime bosses and generally well known individuals of a...negative nature. As she peered in Blake could see number of tables filled and many enjoying meals...Blake grimaced...she was half hoping no one would be around. Seemed everytime she came around there was an associate or business partner of her master and once they saw her somehow that initiated some kind of conversation...still...boss wanted his food, and it was her job to collect.

Shoving her disdain for most of the vile trash that lingered within Blake entered the restraint...the 'Click'cling!' of the bell ringing as if to alert everyone to her entry as the obviously out of place girl stepped further in...the scent of spices and meats cooked tenderly wafting through the air as Female Modeled Robotic Droids strutted around and served the customers...

Blake wasted little time looking around...moving straight to the counter and reaching over to ring the bell.

After a few moments of sizzling meat and casual chatter a large muscular alien creature appeared from the kitchen. His eyes lighting up when his golden eyes landed upon Blake.

"Ahhhh bon'vostal! How you doin?" He called out excitedly, wiping his hands along the apron around his waist as he headed over to the front counter with a smile.

Von...she was glad he was here. Von was a good guy, quirky sure. But her years in the orphanage were bearable because of him and his kindness to give her work and a decent meal here and there...a small smile cured upon Blakes lips, barely recognizable to some...but he knew she was happy to see a friendly face.

"Hey V...i'm...doing alright i guess." She mused, a croak in her voice as she rubbed her throat through her crimson scarf...her throat sore and strained from things she'd rather not think about. "Busy day? Business looks good." She said a bit more quietly, gesturing with her head to the customers who seemed rather content.

His eyes, filled with concern for a moment when he heard her force, but he quickly pushed such things aside when she commented on business. He chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest pridefully and shrugging casually. "Yeeeeeees yeees. Business is booming now ya? No thanks to you eh? Those suggestions you made were brilliant! The hungry now flock in swarms! And of course you telling your boss about this place has made it pretty popular as well." He mused, making Blake blush ever so slightly...it was rare, for her to be...recognized. Yet alone complimented. The girl nodded, keeping her face down. Von narrowed his eyes, leaning over the table and giving her a look over. "Say uh...Blake...you feelin ok? You seem less cheerful? And where is Ivory? I thought you two always traveled together?" He asked curiously.

The mention of Ivory made Blake grimace...her name still stung like the thorns of a rose. Her semblance of a smile quickly faded into a scornful frown.

"Gone...she is studying with the Jedi Order now." She stated simply, leaving it at that.

"Hm? Well thats good for her i guess...Go out and make a difference or whatever it is Jedi do..." He replied blankly. "But...still, what of you? You didn't go with her? You two were inseparable...i doubt she'd just leave you behind..." he pressed, making Blake recoil into her scarf and avert her gaze to the floor.

"I can't leave...and i won't. Not until i fix this." She replied, making Von cock a brow.

"And what are you trying to fix?"

Blade gritted her teeth...clutching her inner pockets as she slowly looked up at Von...making eye contact as her hood shifted back slightly, revealing her face. And with a simple gesture she directed him to the TV with the news broadcast...the reporter going on about the regime that now ruled this world...and the pirates and criminals who ran the joint. Economical depression and infighting...murder and war. Yes...this was was needed fixing.

"I'm going to fix this...this...broken thing." She muttered, making Von frown as he stared at her black eye and purplish flesh bruised and marked.

"...You plan on spilling blood?" He asked simply, his smile fading. Blake simply nodded.

"As much as i need to...the only ones who should kill are those who are prepared to be killed...right? And i rather die trying then living on the sidelines." She growled, making the man slowly nod.

"Well i wont stop you...just...make sure you know what your fighting for." He advised, leaving it at that as she sighed and scoffed. "But on a more important note...who...did that?" He asked, pointing at her black eye and bruises. Blake frowned and simply did not reply. Von, quickly catching onto what was happening began clenching his fist and slammed his massive hands on the table and forced cups to fall to the floor.

"It was that Vicewood bloak wasen't it!?" She snarled, taking his fist and slamming them into one another. "I'll pummel him good!" He roared, causing a scene in the middle of the restaurant. Blake placed her hand on her face and shook her head silently.

"Von...i'm here to pick up an Order...just...get it please. You know what Mr Vicewood likes." She cut, attempted to defuse the beast and his apparent fury. The chef growled and slowly calmed himself down, looking over at all the staring faces in the restraunt who seemed fixed on them after that outburst...Von lifted his arms and slammed his chest.

"Got somethin to say?" He called out alarmingly. The customers exchanged a couple of glances to one another before simply muttering something and going back to their food. Blake, keeping her back on them just sighed deeply. Von sighed, shaking his head and rubbing his head. "I swear if i see that guy i'll rip his arms off...anyway, his money is good...so i'll get em his food. I'll get you somethin as well, on the house. Just sit down and try to enjoy some time away from that monster." He muttered, heading into the Kitchen to begin cooking the meal...Blake just turned heel and went to take a seat at one of the empty booths on the far side of the restraunt closest to the exit...her eyes fixed on the TV as she tried to pretend none of that happened...and yet, that word remained in her mind...

Monster...

What made a monster a...monster?

It was a question that haunted her...because deep inside she knew. That by the time she was done...

She would become the monster she despised.

 

[Shorarri]

Shorarri looked up from his fourth course of steak and studied the diner he now sat in. A curved bar sat against the far end of the restaurant. Behind which sat an alien of unknown origins. Red trimmed everything and tapered off into a dull yellow. Booths lined the walls and large glass window panes gave a pleasant view of the outside world. The floor was tiled and grey. The patrons seemed average, but then again all humans looked the same to Shorarri. Female robots raced to and fro delivering and taking orders. A music box sat in a corner and the Wookiee wondered if it had any hymns from his home world. Another waitress approached him.

"More of the same sweety?"

"Roar wrar argh Wrr!" (Please)

The waitress raced off and disappeared behind the counter.

"Growor wror," (What a skilled hunter) Shorarri whispered to himself.

Then he spied a small girl. (All people are small to Shorarri) She looked to have been beaten. Shorarri pulled a small wooden toy he had carved with his own claws from his satchel and approached the human.

"Grar hroar wror," He reached out and placed the toy on the bar next to the girl.

"Argh groar wror," (This is for you) He motioned to her then the toy. In case she didn't understand.

[member="Blake Morrigan"]

 

[BR-T3 "Zen"]

Zen had been late he'd been schedule to be bought by a man named Dominic Vicewood a warlord of this planet. Of course him being bought was a ruse setup by him, he need a place to operate here. The jedi were recently here, after hacking a few things he'd found out why. It seemed the jedi were here on this world to recruit more to their order. Why this world he thought, it was a pit nothing but scum must come from this world.

Musing zen had notice a gang following him, it seemed he attracted their attention him being shiny and all. Zen began to take a detour walking down an alley until they called out to him "hey... hey droid where do you think your going? You wandered into the wrong part of town you look pretty nice i bet you'd sell great after some reprogramming." Zen turned to the group "You gang together because you are weak i will show your true strength." The thugs only had knifes except one he had a pistol zen had deemed them to be a helpless.They approached him "look fellas we got a droid with a sen.." Zen had grabbed the man by his throat in a second he'd crushed it. The other two looked in on horror, zen turned his gaze on them the other man stabbed at him but his body had block it. Zens built in blaster poped out as he gunned the man down the last one a female started to beg "please spare me i have a family a child" his facial expression unchanging "mercy is for the weak".

Zen walked out of the alley blood shining on his body, not good i can't go like this. He looked around there was a shop maybe they could give him something to wipe himself off as he walked to enter.

[member="Shorarri"] | [member="Blake Morrigan"]

 

[Leo Vandermolen]

Leo had stopped to eat in a small cantina, of course he never actually planned on paying for his meal, he'd spent his last credit on getting a ship out here. He was delivering a package for a contract but hadn't reached his destination yet so at the moment he wasn't in any mood to buy anything. Leo was halfway through his well-done skrill meat when a sudden out-roar from the chef at the center of the cantina caught his attention. "This should be interesting." Leo smirked under his breath, watching the events unfold.

 

[Teynara Jeralyr]

[member="Blake Morrigan"] | [member="Leo Vandermolen"] | @BR-T3 "Zen" | [member="Shorarri"]​

The darkness lay thick here, concentrated in a way that spoke only of life, present in vast quantity, cheap and entirely meaningless, something to be discarded in a heartbeat, rather than preserved. It was a lie often spoken on the dark: this sense that it existed only in places empty of the living, monuments only to death and atrocity. The darkness echoed in such places as a memory of life: drawn by the suffering and torment, remaining when all such had finally ended. The truth of the dark is that it existed most strongly where the light was: where living beings drew breath, went about their mundane tasks, fantasised over something more. Here could the darkness be found, inescapable, drawn in with every simple inhalation.

Such a vast ecumenopolis, a city-wide planet, crafted to represent the pinnacle of civilised living, the cream of high society. And, as with all such lofty aspirations, so too lies the scum underneath it all. The bright lights and flashy advertisements, the tall buildings and elegant towers, the rich colours and gorgeous food: all this was an illusion, a lie built on the backs of those who lived only to observe it thereafter, knowing that they could press their faces longingly against a window but never be invited inside. To be used and discarded.

It was a simple enough truth: those with money and power almost always built their fine lives with the blood of those who would not so much as warrant a second look, if given any consideration at all. Planets like this were breeding grounds for the dark: a beautiful cityscape housing true corruption beneath it. A seething, disenfranchised mass of beings simply trying to survive in a world that gave not a damn about their existence. Suffering came not from physical pain, but from the demise of the spirit, slowly being crushed beneath the bootheels of those who considered all others to be beneath them.

This was a place largely untouched by the wars going on out there, in the wider galaxy. Such a world held itself above them, neutral territory protected by wealth and power, wanting little to do with the endless strife that so enveloped other worlds. The Sith had seen many such: all claiming to want nothing to do with conflict, but nonetheless profitting from it in some fashion. Such was how planets like this came to be: thriving metropolis', flaunting money the way an aquatic planet flaunted water. Few things enriched a population like war. No doubt that was true of Ke'rai.

He had come without regard for the glories or ills of the world: Sith Intelligence largely considered it a footnote, a place where activities might be conducted in secret, but otherwise unremarkable, and best left alone. Corruption rules here, backroom politics and social oppression both, he reflected, inwardly furious with such a state of affairs. Once, perhaps, he might have come here with force, to bring order to this world and tear out such evil, root and stem. But such will draw the war here, and that is to be avoided.

The citizens below the top of the food chain might lead miserable lives, but life was what they had. If the war came, that might certainly change.

His purpose for coming here was more mundane: a report that suggested a child of Force potential might reside on the surface. The galaxy had many, but a few residing within those hallowed halls to learn of their gifts. The rest were largely left unknown, their potential untapped, their talents wasted on lives of utter insignificance. As this one might have done, had Intelligence not suggested that the Jedi had their eyes here, seeking out that one that might be uplifted from their broken circumstances and indoctrinated to serve a higher purpose. But we learned of that in time, and have come to see that such an attempt fails. He'd seen too many damaged by conservative indoctrination into an order which was so hellbent on the destruction of his kind that they had lost all purpose. And residing in darkness, those born to it learn a strength unknown to lesser men. He had to know for certain which would be the case here.

It remained only to track and find such a person. Only then would the true work begin.

 

[Blake Morrigan]

[member="Tirdarius"] | [member="Leo Vandermolen"] | @BR-T3 "Zen" | [member="Shorarri"]​

Silent again...at least in Blakes head it was. This is how it tended to go whenever she was alone...the girl would block out all the outside noise and just remain confined in the spaces of her own mind. Silver eyes flickering over the outside as dark clouds formed above the bustling planet...cackles of thunder miles above echoed savagely down the steel structure of the massive skyscrapers.

Hard sleet shot through glistening pipes layers and windows, fine grey bullets shot from the sky's gun which was in this case, the black and varicose clouds slouching over the Ke'lai. The land below grew gray and gritty, although an ineffective, rusty thing at best - it was as though nature had designed it to keep things from getting out, rather than get in. The rain pelted in anyways and wetted the underworld in dismal shades, a water color painting gone askew. The artificial smoggy smell of fuel, gas and other foul stenches and atmosphere was pervasive and intense but not entirely unpleasant, carried on the roiling mists wafting upwards in thick, misty clouds. Sound seemed to have abandoned the asylum that was Ke'lai.

Silent, all save the comforting patter of rain against steel and glass, a barrier of gentle sound pierced by the occasional cry of a solitary bird. The girl sat quietly...her mind absent. Yet every line of quivering muscle and tendon along her body tense and alert with caution. There was an odd and organic grace about her being that mingled with a world-weary bravery readable in her sorrowful, perhaps even determined face, and an overwhelming sense of a burden - that of reluctant leadership. It was her expression that did it, both the one on her face and the language that bled through each step, a physical language. She was at ease here, or at least, well enough - This old joint was familiar and by extension, comforting, for she knew every inch like an intimate lover - yet something of the casual had been discarded from her nature and replaced with wariness, one open door shutting forever only to yield a dozen more just as shut. Still, her actions were direct and diligent, business-like, and she never once lost her vision...never losing sight of why she was here...and why she would stay.

How many times had Blake been here? How many cycles of forever - could she even call them cycles if they never approached an end? Here, not so much a place as it was an endlessness, a continuation of sameness that hovered about her, plagued her like some black, clinging apocalypse. Skyscrapers leered down at her even as Blake glanced expressionlessly up at them, looming with their usual dislike.

Sometimes she thought of... of her; and later when she couldn't bear this anymore, sometimes she thought of the children drowning in despair.

Wondered if they drowned yet.

And sometimes...

No...

Most of the time...Blake wanted to start a war, if only to ease the pressure of violence caught in her chest, a vice grip squeezing around her heart... Maybe just because she needed the release. No other reason, she lied. But Blake needed this planet too, that was the catch-22; the planets umbilical cord had wound its way around her brain, wormed beneath her tender skin, and it sustained her well enough. This world, as despicable as it appeared has taught her much... She would repay the favor...

And as the moments went on in silence her temporary peace was disturbed by...a clacking on the table in front of her. Blake, tiredly lifting her head from the cool window focused her eyes upon what appeared to be a wooden toy placed on the bar. A large wookie looming above her and gesturing towards the odd thing...Blake looked up at the beast...her one good eye narrowed suspiciously for a moment before looking back at the toy and frowning.

No one had ever...'given' her a toy before...and though she was to old for such things, something inside her nagged...pricked like a thorn.

It was the absence of a childhood...not that she could complain. Far to many children had it worse than her...many in this very room probably had stories bordering the insane about their childhoods...but still...the absence of love...the neglect had left her scarred. Young child-like bemusement slain in cold blood.

The logical part of her told her to reject the gift...the logical part of her scoffed. 'Your a big girl now, to old for toys!'...

And yet despite that...the side of her that remained human...that still held onto the hope of self salvation told her to accept it...sentimental value...a reminder.

Blake blinked...lifting her hand and reaching out to rub her fingers along the smooth surface of the wooden object...silver eyes wandering over it curiously for a long while before a croaking voice escaped her bruised throat.


"Thank you..." She would muse simply, offering a weak smile as she made eye contact with the beast for a brief moment.

 

[Shorarri]

Shorarri stopped and waited. He thought for a moment the girl hadn't understood what he had said and was getting ready to speak again when she broke out of her trance. She picked up the toy and studied it with a longing that spoke volumes. Shorarri began to understand how deeply this girls anguish cut. Her silver eyes spoke of pain and suffering that tugged right on the Wookiees heart strings. It made him want to defend her however he could. She had been left alone in this world for to long and the galaxy was an unforgiving mistress.

"Thank you," she said with a delicate smile.

He gave the urchin a toothy grin in return. It would appear awkward to anyone but another Wookiee.

"Roor worrah woar. Gro ro ro Oor," (It is a figurine of warr. He will protect you now!)

Then the waitress would appear. Her arms crossed, fingers impatiently tapping away on her forearms. Shorarri turned to face the impatient droid and gave her another one of his strange Wookiee smiles.

"Grah?" He asked

"We were beginning to wonder when you'd pay the bill?" she said suspiciously.

Shorarri had just taken to the stars in those days and still had little understanding of how the galaxy worked. In his home village they merely bartered for goods with necessities. Not money. Shorarri rustled around in his satchel then finally pulled out a handful of papers, some lint, and a few shell casings. Shorarri was a master of the Random Pocket Trade.

"Growr urr bowr hor," (You may have these)

"That's not going to cut it. Make with the dough or will call the authorities,"

Shorarri gave her a puzzled look. Paper was a rare commodity where he came from. He treasured his few books with a zeal that would rival a librarians. So when the waitress threatened to call the authorities he was dumbfounded.

[member="Blake Morrigan"], [member="Tirdarius"], [member="Leo Vandermolen"], @ BR-T3 "Zen"

 

[Seria Ventreme]

@Shorarri@Blake Morrigan@BR-T3 "Zen" [member="Tirdarius"]

As darkness reigned over the tight alleyways and dripped through the most poorly lighted limits of the rain filled streets, a figure, a woman at that. Walked alone. Her heels tapping loudly with each careful step, but in the busy expanse her sharp clip clopping fell unheard, choked into silence under the tight embrace of the rain and cities noise.

Like most people out at this time, Seria was hungry, not for food, or sex or any depravity one would find bred into the very soul of a place like this, but for the staple of her peoples diet, the same dark soul of their culture that was a staple of their very being. For Seria was a true Anzat, a fresh and ravenous pilgrim newly arisen from the homeworld, and was thrilled to be set upon her first voyage into the great hunting grounds of the universe.

She had already selected her target for the night, there was a group of them. Low level thugs for sure, judging by their weapons and lack thereof. She only required one to quell the hunger pains inside, but knew that such weak creatures would not sustain her body for long enough if she devoured them one at a time, and she did not think they would be missed. As such, she hung far back, waiting for them to separate, or head off the main street, or for some division or distraction to occur which would allow her to rush in and consume them. Her gloved hand curled up, its sharp metal points poised on her fingers tips as they played sharply on the black leather like staccato notes on the black keys of an ivory piano. Playful and timid. Excited but shy. Dangerous in their delicacy.

The distraction came, but not how entirely how she she expected it. As the group turned into the alley and threatened to scrap @BR-T3 "Zen" she quickly moved closer, hiding behind a set of empty bins junk as she bent her body down low, the predatory movement almost feline in nature as she watched the machine slaughter the first man, as the second stabbed Zen and felt his knife bend against the hard metal of his body. She struck at the gang members weak mind with a sudden and crushing telepathic assault. Waves of self doubt and suffocating guilt passed over him in an instant as visions of the younger brother he had widowed as part of his initiation into the gang suffocated slowly under a pillow he had held against his face. His body and spirit too damaged by his failed attempts to end his own life, to put up any resistance. He stood, gormless, his mind too overloaded and distant to even try to defend himself. Perhaps, if given the chance. He might have repented for his actions, but hopefully like the 'butcher of Korriban' in the far away territories of the Silver Jedi. He was not given one, and found himself subsequently dispatched by blast bolt as Zen struck him down.
As he finished off the woman, the Anzat waited in silence. Only emerging once the killing machine had left towards the diner. As he headed away from the corpses, she approached them. Dragging each further into the alleyway, towards the bins she would eventually leave them inside, to be disposed of like any other city trash.

Once she was sure she was alone, the Anzat reared her head back, and a light cracking sound emitted from the skin of her cheeks, displacing the makeup covering their exit slits, before two slimy tendrils eased out of her faced and into the dead and dying's own through their nostrils. The one suffocating from a crushed throat went last, kept fresh for as long as possible as she converted their insides to soup and consumed their sea of memories. Eventually, she withdrew. The horrifying process ending with a sickening pop as her tendrils left their noses and the pressure inside their husks adjusted. Once her tendrils were hidden from sight, she quickly smudged the makeup nearest around the slits to hide them once again, before heading into the diner to dry off and clean herself up.

 

[Leo Vandermolen]

The sounds of clashes from the alley outside ceased, silence deafening Leo's ears once more. Probably just a tussle between two urchins fighting over scraps. Silence... silence was golden to Leo, nothing like the feeling of leaping from some rooftop in the darkest reaches of a city, the neon lights glowing in the distance while the darkness seeps before your eyes. Not a sound but the sudden woosh of the air as it races past your ears, obscuring the senses and testing your reactions as you land. Silence and darkness had become his only friends, the only ones he could truly trust.

But that silence was now being broken. The big brute of a Wookie seemed to have annoyed the waitress, something about lint not being a viable form of payment. She began threatening to call the authorities on the big guy if he didn't pay up when something clicked in Leo's head, thinking that this was his que to leave, use this distraction to get out of the cantina without anyone knowing any better and he's be home free. Leo stood up to leave, his hands reaching into the pockets of his trench-coat.

@BR-T3 "Zen" [member="Shorarri"] [member="Seria Ventreme"] [member="Blake Morrigan"] [member="Tirdarius"]

 

[BR-T3 "Zen"]

Entering into the dinner it was quite not many people but enough to be busy, whatever had everyone so quite it wasn't zen. He walked up to the lifeforms at the counter he'd spoke "Greetings it seems i have been dirtied is there some form of cloth i could use to wipe down with?". The alien glanced at him if he'd wanted to say something he didn't, most likely he'd had experience of some sort but he did seem tense. The blood began to drip a bit, zen could hear every drop each hitting the ground drop after drop. Two noise's interrupted this sound, one was the door opening a female walked in covered in rain. The other was the sound of the big alien talking to him "here its what i got" he was uncomfortable not unexpected.

Zen wiped off, as he did he took in the dinner more. For what the planet mainly consisted it was decent. The occupants that drew his attention was the female that just walked in,a man leaving, a wookie with a small child, and the child herself holding a wooden toy. The female was wet as it had started to rain zen noted the use of make-up. The man leaving human didn't draw to much attention he was most likely from this planet if zen had to guess. The wookie drew the most attention from him, whatever it was doing here it didn't have the money to pay for its food. The girl herself was mostly unassuming she held a toy gotten from the wookie, it would be interesting to see what she would do for the wookie who had no money.

Zen watched on to see but afterward he would need to head out the human warlord waited.

[member="Leo Vandermolen"] | [member="Seria Ventreme"] | [member="Shorarri"] | [member="Blake Morrigan"] | [member="Tirdarius"]

 

[Teynara Jeralyr]

[member="Blake Morrigan"] | [member="Leo Vandermolen"] | @BR-T3 "Zen" | [member="Shorarri"] | [member="Seria Ventreme"]​

The skies had opened and fallen upon those who stood within the streets, a torrent that sent many scurrying for cover, hoping to avoid that which struck at them with all the merciless fury of the natural at war with the artificial. The darkness was obvious now: a wave of emotion that stemmed from those all around, expressing dismay, frustration, even anger. Such feelings fed the darkness, made it stronger, satiated that raw hunger that was never truly satisfied. The dark energies that wove through everything on this world were truly inescapable, but as darkness covered the skies and water poured from above, that sensation became more potent by the moment.

Tirdarius had always enjoyed the pleasure of rain: it was an elemental tempest that spoke of the raw truth of their reality, an exquisite metaphor for the fact that one could not always live in sunshine. And, yet, without that darkness, without the flood that it would bring with it, life would not exist. And so darkness was bound up in that most precious life-sustaining resource, a fact which so many observed but ever failed to recognise. As always, failing to see that which is right in front of them.

He had not sought shelter from the rain, nor made so much as a move from those cold streets. Any close observer would have noticed that not a drop touched him, simply sliding away as though making contact with something proof against it, moving from surface to the firm ground below it. The darkness provided all the energy he might need here, and he fed upon it as it fed upon him, drawing strength from his emotion as it did from that of all the others on this dismal world. Open to it, he felt a level of clarity that allowed him to reach outwards and touch all those minds that those energies were connected to.

There was much sensation to feel: quiet desperation, misery, resignation to being stuck outside in such miserable weather, the darker frustrations of those that cursed the sky for offering its bounty. The Sith Lord smiled faintly, amused by this, perhaps one of the few that felt in his element here, connected to that darkness in a far less passive way than those who called this petty planet 'home'.

There were other emotions, too, sharper, more urgent: barely-concealed bloodlust, the threat of aggression preparing to be unleashed, and the joy that existed at the thought of letting go and giving in to that barbarism, to perhaps feel the lifeblood of another drain away at their hands, a means of removing one whose sole value lay, perhaps, in his wallet. Not one being, but several: aggressive, primal, disciplined only insofar as they awaited their moment.

Then fear, panic, a sudden rush of terror sweeping through those that had been hunters but a moment ago, now being preyed upon by something far more dangerous than them. The Sith's eyes narrowed coldly, his expression dispassionate as he sought for the source. Pinpointing a true physical location was no simple matter, but the Force would always provide for those that served it. There was something more: a hunger, waiting in the shadows, anticipating a feast in a predatory fashion that was far unlike anything he had ever felt himself. It as though the darkness welcomes death, and offers it as sacrifice to another.

Life ceased in an instant, heartbeats stilling, blood no longer being pumped through those delicate veins, an abrupt end to violence that had existed for but a short handful of moments. One light winked out, then another, slower this time, as though the life were being drawn slowly from it, the spirit released only after a patient agony tore at it. There is more than one hunter out here, the Sith Lord reflected. There was something eminently unnatural about what he could feel: no clean death, but something whimsical, a cessation that had fed that insatiable hunger that he could feel. Something out here does not see these people as unfortunates, but as food.

Anger flared in his eyes for a moment, gripping at him with uncharacteristic force. What he had felt was murder: no surgical act of self-preservation, but a killing perpetuated only to satisfy the one that took it. It was brutal, inhumane, barbaric. Such an evil should not exist. That made his duty clear, for the moment: the Jedi candidate would wait. He would find them when the time was right: the Force would draw them into his path. First, however, there is a target to be dealt with. Those that would feed off the energies of another deserved no mercy, and he would offer them none.

 

[Blake Morrigan]

[member="Tirdarius"] | [member="Leo Vandermolen"] | @BR-T3 "Zen" | [member="Shorarri"] | [member="Seria Ventreme"]​

Hunger, oh hunger, the purest sin. Through the fraught lines of a land buried deep within the cataclysm of monstrosity and the carnality of beasts, shreds of humanity glimpse through thickened claws and slathering fangs borne within the harshened regard of a predatory mask, the barest bones of an artistry of naked flesh slipping through the cracks to become a wholesome intricate design. It is the true form they have chosen, perhaps the most animalistic of them all that betrays itself before the entirety of awestruck eyes as they rise from underneath silken fur of predators and stand upon booted heels in the splendor of a rising sun, of a traversing moon. Blake was a predator of a different nature...slow...methodical.

She possessed no impressive features...no claws or fangs...fleet of foot or desire for the chase. Now...Blake stalked...for weeks...months...'years'. Waiting, watching and learning. She was in for the long game because she was not capable of anything else...but lack power did not make one weak.

No, lack of will made you weak...lack of dedication. Lack of desire...these were things that crippled men and poisoned them. She may of been a pawn...a slave. But she was a Pawn to her own design...her own destiny. Manipulated by none but her own.

Searing anguish. Leering agony that crept along dulled nerves and deadened senses ached in malicious stead. The first few moments, she sat, staring at the others in the diner as they mingled and talked...and the fact she knew some of them were business partners with Vicewood only made her grimace. .

Oh she remembered the day...that wretched day where all she knew was taken from her... Body sensation began to collapse in upon itself, unable to stand, unable to hold up any longer, quivering flesh would drop to the cold chalice of the stone floor in which she was binded was the feeling of dripping sanguine wine that slipped, spilled over paling skin, that ran in amorous stead over the breadth of honed muscle. Frame grew taunt, stiffened with the kiss of death's macabre appearance and grandeur grace. Lungs struggled, pulse becoming little more than the thrum of enslaved insect wings to flutter weakly against the span of ribs. Low was the voice of the gallows, a sentence to the sea before he felt a sense of rising. Ascendance gave way to dismal descent, a rapid fall that left her disoriented, a loss of time and space and all of the minute workings once taken for granted. There was a heavy discomfort, a malevolent weight upon her chest that suffocated in blind hatred, that threatened to drain the very life from her veins, yet still she struggled, she fought through morose, grim determination to stay away from the ethereal curtains of eternal night shade that beckoned so sweetly.

All those years ago...before the orphanage...when she saw glimpses of the parents she never really knew. All she remembered was suffocating darkness and death creeping through the walls...consuming...decaying all before it. And through the darkness a creature as black as death appeared...a being that called itself [member="Darth Carnifex"] . Yes...the name still rang in her head...haunted her dreams and even worse stained her nightmares. When conscious the name pricked at her mind like thorns of a dead rose. She remembered what happened that night...when her parents perished...and she herself was...cursed by the ethereal being. She could not fully recall what happened when she was taken...but when she awoke her body had been...corrupted.

Blake clenched her jaw at the memory...looking over to her left arm which was covered by sleeves...and underneath the sleeve densely bandaged by wrappings. The mark...it was pulsing more and more...as if the sudden downpour marked the arrival of something sinister...

The silver eyed girl narrowed her eyes intensely. The pain growing intense with each passing moment as darkness closed in.

Vicious, vicarious progression deemed a more fervid miasma, one that seized with the sudden bitter acridity that well spoke of the endeavors of such malicious deeds. Slaked. The animosity of the toxins spread through constricting veins, shrieking resistance in futile efforts, a struggle against the permeating death of blood, of flesh and bone. Crippling at first, but steadily, hastened did the effects truly begin to illuminate. Something was coming...someone...

And just as others entered the Diner her arm stiffened and her fist tensed...the girl shrieked in pain. Dropping the gift the Wookie had given her on the table with a large 'clunk!'. She grabbed her left arm with the right and clutched it tightly in her hand painfully as she winced and huffed. The pain...is burned through her entire arm. Every last cell felt like it was on fire and her flesh felt as if it was melting. The look of distress plain on her face as the robotic droid hassling the Wookie quickly went to Blake and leaned in.

"You ok hun? Whats wrong did someone hurt you?" She asked rather scornfully. Blake simply shook her head erratically, shuffling over to slide out of the booth before the pain bolted up her arm and electrified her body. Her legs became weak...her attempt to stand failing as she collapsed on herself and crashed to the floor.

What was this? Her arm only felt this way when she attempted to draw upon the force...one of the reasons she never attempted to dabble in the art. But now...it was as if separate force signatures were triggering it...as if a beacon being activated the girl began to radiate Dark energies that any force sensitive could sense from miles away...it called to them. A beckoning call as she struggled to her feet. Her left arm limp and shaking violently as tears began to stream down her cheeks.

That man...Carnifex...what did he...do to her?

 

[Lark]

There was something about corruption-filled planets that seemed to attract Lark like a flower attracts bees. Coruscant, Geonosis, and now this bleak world. And as fate would have it, rain began to fall from the skies as soon as he set foot onto Ke'lai. His arrival would go unnoticed by everyone, for he was nobody worth noting. He's nothing but a criminal, probably running some drugs, some people would think. He's nothing but scum who've got nowhere else to go, others would say. Those who withstood the downpour would see strands of red hair protruding out of a black hood, perhaps if they gazed at him closely they'd see his burning, yellow-orange eyes calculating his unfamiliar yet at the same time accustomed surroundings. Places like this were all to well known to Lark.

Homeless people littered the alleyways Lark traveled through, he had no particular destination in mind. Some with strength left in their tired bones reached up towards him, hands held in a pleading manner, palms towards the sky, begging for money or scraps of food. They collected nothing but dirty rainwater as Lark walked past them pitilessly.

He didn't get far when two thugs approached him. Both held jagged knives, perhaps half a foot long each. "We saw the way you been walking 'round here, head held high. Thinkin yer better than us, do ya? Guy like yourself probably got plenty of money. Give it here, and maybe I'll only cut off yer tongue."

Nothing but the sound of the rain pattering on the rooftops of run-down buildings followed. The thugs were breathing heavily, and Lark let out not a single breath. "You deaf?" The other thug yelled. "Pay up, or we'll slice you open from head to toe!"

Such weak threats, Lark thought. The first thug who spoke, the taller of the two, had waited long enough. He thrust out his arm, knife pointing towards Lark's cold heart. He stepped to the side, and the blade fell in between his chest and arm. He closed the gap, clutching the mans arm tightly, wrapping his own hand around the mans forearm. He headbutted the man, causing blood to spray across the damp ground. It wasn't necessary, but the sensation of pain was a pleasant contrast to the numbness he had felt before. Lark's hood flew backwards due to the sudden movement, and the man dropped his knife. Lark quickly picked it up, and rammed it straight into the man's gut. He coughed up a bit of blood onto Lark's jacket, before meeting his eyes, in a dead stare. His final vision was Lark smiling at him. Not a maniac's smile, but a smile similar to that of a proud father whose son just won some sporting event. Then he slumped over, lifeless.

The other thug tried to run, but he had a knife between his shoulder blades before he got far. The alleyway was covered in a scarlet red, but the rain would wash it away soon enough. Or perhaps it would stain the ground, a permanent reminder of what had happened here.

He ditched the blood-covered jacket, he barely felt the cold. He wandered for a bit longer, before setting his sights on a restaurant with a decent crowd. As he walked through the door a man quickly pushed by him, clearly in a hurry. He muttered something, he couldn't tell if it was a curse or an apology, probably the former, before making his exit. Lark continued in to quite a scene. A wookie stood screaming at someone, Lark couldn't understand a word of it. It looked like he didn't have enough money to pay for his meal. A girl stood next to him, holding some toy. He walked around the restaurant, choosing a seat that was close to the action and presented him with a decent view. The girl looked at the toy with a sense of longing in her eyes, a look that Lark was all to familiar with. He could see into those eyes, and he saw a reflection of himself from ten years ago.

Before he killed every part of him that resembled a human.

The girl stiffened, and let out a cry of pain that resonated throughout the room. At first Lark thought perhaps that it was a ploy, that she and the wookie had devised a plan to get a free meal, and this was all some sort of act. But that pain, the way she convulsed, that was no act. I didn't do that, did I? Lark was aware he was force-sensitive, but he hadn't learned how to use it. There was no way he could have done that accidentally. No, some other force was acting upon this girl. Curious, Lark leaned back into his seat, and rested a finger against his lips.

[member="Tirdarius"] @BR-T3 "Zen" [member="Leo Vandermolen"] [member="Seria Ventreme"] [member="Shorarri"] [member="Blake Morrigan"]

 

[Seria Ventreme]

[member="Blake Morrigan"] [member="Tirdarius"] [member="Leo Vandermolen"] @BR-T3 "Zen"

Seria paused in the doorway, undoing the loop and clasp that held her hood in place before sliding it down and brushing a hand through her short frizzy hair. After a moment, she spoke. The words forming a question that clearly needed no answer. "The weather always this nice out here?" She asked, before she awkwardly headed towards an empty table. As she went she slid the heavy grey rucksack from her back and slowly unzipped it, before dropping it down onto the surface with a sigh of relief as she pulled out a red towel, unfolded it and ran it through her hair repeatedly. Removing what water had seeped through while she looked around the restaurant, and got a look at its patrons.

A Wookiee, never before had Seria seen one - at least outside of the art gallery her family had collected from across the galaxy across the last millennia-, but still knew the creatures species upon first sight of its majesty. It was not quite how she remembered the stories, of powerful, ferocious, strong willed warriors. But she tried not to judge it for its crass grin as it argued with the staff in its strange bestial tongue. Instead, the woman walked across. "Do you both mind if I clear the bill? I'd rather not see this place torn apart before I've got some directions."

No sooner than she'd finished talking, the girl who looked a similar age to her -Blake- fell, and the Anzat found herself walking towards her. Disturbingly drawn in by the waves of appetizing force energy flooding her senses from every direction. No sooner than she reached the woman, Seria found herself offering Blake her left hand. After a second she hesitated, fingers curling back before straightening them out again and speaking as she'd help the woman to her feet. "Are you alright?"

 

[Matreya]

Damien Daemon walked silently amongst the shadows, the hood of his Cater coat hanging behind his neck rather than in place, Lymmahtun at his hip, and his Spirits too his side. He bore no more armor than this, despite the numerous ones he possessed, though he did bear a Baka Bodyglove on his person just in case. Rarely did the three thousand plus year old Forcer not bear full, unequivocal armored glory.

However, for a decade nearly he was in the hills, in caves, hidden to the universe as a whole. He had fought to utilize his mind and powers during that time, keeping them as honed as ever, but his body had grown weak. He had given in to the times. Now he would bear upon himself the next several battles he would enter, with no extras. His power, his mind, they would lead him into being the warrior he had been long before he found he was Force sensitive, before Voracitos took him under his wing. Back when times were simple.

A flare. Power driven into the essence of the weakened. Anzat. Damien stilled his body, his senses exploding outward from his mind, seeking what he had sensed. Scouring the area around, he wished to locate the probable area to which was one of his kind. Yes, he bore no more the Anzat purity he had once, but it did not change that he was still Anzat at heart. That was what he sensed as well, the leaking of ones Soup, to be erased then absorbed forever. This, was something he did not approve.

Yes, it was illogical, as even in this body that was his means of sustenance. But feelings, hates, they were not logic. They were feelings. His memories with other Anzat had long taken the potential comradery and thrown this from the ship. His species would just as soon absorb an allies Soup, as look at them.

Damien was darkside, deadly, and a psychotic lunatic on days, but even he did not do this...

Well, much anyway. That town had it coming.

Finally finding what he had also sensed, the flaring of pain from a young one, Damien set to that direction. His eyes began to glow luminous lavender, signalling the Force Walker now gathered energy from Master Zaiden, as well as the other spirits bound to him.

[member="Seria Ventreme"] [member="Lark"] [member="Blake Morrigan"] [member="Tirdarius"]

 

[Leo Vandermolen]

Leo brushed past the woman at the doorway, pulling his hood up in preparation for the rain splashing down outside. The thumping of the droplets, pounding against his hood form an almost rhythmic pattern as he walked away. Screams from the diner caught his attention for but only a brief moment, but he had to focus on his task, getting this package to its recipient. The rain had cleared most of the populace from the streets, they dashed inside to avoid the downpour, but Leo wasn't going to let some water stop him from completing this delivery. Leo turned a corner and came face to face with a man, he was about as tall as Leo, but this person held himself with authority, a stature of grandeur without making it to apparent to commoners. But something was... off. As Leo observed him, he noticed the rain was... sliding off of him. This was no commoner, and Leo was sure he was up to something important, with important people. Important people with valuables. "My apologies." Leo said, sliding graciously past the man in one fluid movement. Leo kept walking for a few paces until the man had turned the corner and shot to an alley, scaling the wall with such speed and grace the nearby homeless were in disbelief that a human could perform such a feat. Leo caught sight of his new target, the delivery could wait, this was going to fetch him a pretty penny. He was heading back toward the diner, something big must've gone down after he left. Leo began stalking him across the rooftops.

[member="Tirdarius"] [member="Lark"] [member="Blake Morrigan"]

 

[Seria Ventreme]

[member="Damien Daemon"] @Blake Mor [member="Tirdarius"]

While by no means a master of the force like Damien the morally sound Anzat, who was capable of draining the soup from entire cities, or like Tirdarius who could sense the presence of a single individual he had never met, of a particular species he knew not was there, in the middle of a heavily populated area he was not observing, and who posed no immediate danger to him or those around him as the prey he hunted consumed the already dead before he pinpointed their exact location and headed towards it. Seria was still force sensitive, and as the four dark presences converged on her position, seemingly swarming her as she mistakenly attempted to aid one of them. A feeling of immense danger uttered through the back of her mind, sending tingles of fear and dread across her body as she slowly withdrew her hand and pulled up her hood, before grabbing her rucksack and quickly heading into the kitchen. Once inside, she turned off any lit stoves, before turning the gas of each on, letting the flammable gas fill the room as she placed a short fused detonator upon a high shelf. Once outside, she quickly descended down an alley moving away from the restaurants entrance before joining the nearest crowd and heading towards the closest public transport station that would get her offworld.

(Leaving the thread, I had no intention of joining this to get involved in a battle. I hope Tir and Damien have fun fighting each other to the death)

 

[Shorarri]

Shorarri was surprised when a kindly woman offered to pay the bill. Something was off about her though. She made the hackles on the back of his neck stand up. Then the girl he had been speaking with fell to the floor as if in immense agony. Shorarri and the serving droid rushed to her side. Shorarri growling in worry as strangers seemed to flood into the building. With each one that entered Shorarri began to sense the same thing he sensed on the woman. Then he realised. It was the smell of blood. He looked up and saw they each had an air of danger about them. One of chaos. He began to suspect they were the cause of the poor girls illness. Slowly circling their prey like firaxan sharks. Then he noticed the woman had disappeared. Leaving behind something that smelled even more distressing. Gas. He scooped the girl up into his giant arms and began running for the exit.

"GRAR HROAR WROAR!" (EVERYONE RUN!)

He was the first one out the door. The smell of fresh rain on stone greeted him. His favorite, ruined by the stench of death. By everything that was wrong with this world. Merchants were packing their wears and the homeless sat in their alleys huddled together for warmth. The skycrapers dominated the brooding skies. A monument to the insignificance of man. Not one person stopped to help the Wookiee while he roared for help. As he ran down the street he accidently bumped into a man who seemed not affected by the rain at all. Despite Shorarri's size the man didn't budge. It was as if he was tethered to the ground by an unseen magic. Shorarri looked at the man then thrusted the child out to him. If anyone could cure the girl it would be a shaman such as this one.

"Grah roo roo wor," (Help her, please.)

[member="Tirdarius"] [member="Blake Morrigan"]

 

[Lark]

Lark continued to spectate the odd scene with increasing interest. A hooded figure attempted to help the struggling girl, or perhaps she was offering to pay the remainder of the wookie's bill. Then she hesitated, and quickly walked away, into the kitchen of all places. With the restaurant finally quieting down, a robot waitress approached Lark. "What may I get you sir?"

"Just a coffee please," he replied kindly, eyes not moving from the girl and her beast of a companion. The waitress nodded her metallic head, before a cry that rivaled the sound of a canon being fired erupted from the wookie, making the entire restaurant jump up in their seats. He grabbed the collapsed girl, and bolted out of the building faster than Lark would have guessed a wookie could move. A few dozen eyes followed their exit. Perhaps it was an act to get free food, Lark thought, impressed at the girl's acting skills.

The waitress brought Lark's coffee a moment later, and the crowd settled down. He could hear the rain patter on the roof, and the murmur of conversation soon filled the diner. Hushed whispers of some warlord who owned the area, panicked voices trying to figure out how they were going to survive the reign of terror that would likely soon envelop this pitiful planet.

"Ahem!"

Lark's attention was brought back to the waitress, who extended a cold hand in an expectant manner. "Don't you expect to pull a stunt like they did," she said.

"Of course, my apologies." Lark paid the waitress, and she gave him a cruel look that he quite frankly didn't think he deserved. He took a few sips. It was a bit bitter, but he could choke it down. He didn't feel the cold or the rain, but he'd suffer the effects of prolonged exposure regardless. Best try and stay warm.

That's when he smelt the gas.

The wookie must have noticed it before the rest of us. He was trying to warn everyone of the danger. He stood, and nonchalantly walked out of the restaurant. He kept the coffee, covering it with his open hand, taking sips when he was under cover. At first Lark thought he heard thunder shaking the night sky, but it was actually the wookie's roar, the creature was probably looking for someone to help the girl. Good luck with that here, he thought.

He peeked around a street corner, and saw the wookie offering the girl to a man clad in darkness. He stepped into a two story abandoned building, which was towered over by other nearby structures. The windows were blown out and parts of the roof were missing, but a few people found shelter here regardless. They looked up at him with weary eyes, but they were to broken to make a move to take his coffee. Instead they gazed at the warm drink with longing, and Lark finished it with a satisfying gulp.

Lark perched himself on a wide windowsill, allowing him to sit and watch what transpired, a red shadow in the night. Few others walked along the greasy street. He kept the mug in his hands, it was still warm and steam rose from the bottom. The figures still hadn't moved, and the wookie looked as if he was pleading with the man. As he studied the little he could see of the man, Lark started to feel an encroaching darkness, something was off about that one. A force user, and a powerful one at that. He dangled one leg out of the window, yellow eyes watching for what would happen next.

[member="Shorarri"] [member="Leo Vandermolen"] [member="Damien Daemon"] [member="Blake Morrigan"] [member="Tirdarius"] @BR-T3 "Zen"

 

[Blake Morrigan]

[member="Tirdarius"] | [member="Leo Vandermolen"] | @BR-T3 "Zen" | [member="Shorarri"] | [member="Lark"]​

​

​

Silver eyes darted across the smooth tiles of the Diner floors as her body wracked with pain...trembling helplessly, eyes staggering in her sockets as the intensity of the agony fluctuated throughout her left arm. Her nails digging into the tainted flesh through the leather of her jacket as the patrons of the Diner all seemed to stir. Her vision began to double as the mark began to force her into a state of unconsciousness every moment that passed. And when a strangers voice rang in her ears Blake slowly lifted her head to face a young woman with dark skin...apparently just arriving from the outside judging from her condition...however, when the woman offered a hand of help Blake grimaced...slowly lifting her own hand to take hers before she suddenly just...pulled away. Lifting up her hood and quickly venturing off into the Kitchen with the chefs and waitresses who operated in the back...Blake made a look of distaste, scoffing and struggling to her feet slowly and leaning herself onto the table to support her rather lopsided weight as her head spun like a top...

Though, in her obscured vision Blake did manage to look past the ordering window to see where the woman had stalked off to...and while back there she could see her meddling with the stoves settings and then reaching into her pocket and pulling out some small gadget and simply stuffing it up on a shelf while the dozens of chefs...did...whatever it was they did. Apparent she had snuck past an entire staff team without even trying...

Still, Blake frowned furiously when the mysterious woman then just turned tail and walked out the back entrance. The silver eyed femm wondered why she had left in such a hurry...and more importantly why she was messing with the restaurants equipment. And before Blake could even regain her sense of focus and control the Wookie had let out a blood curdling scream that made even Blake nearly jump out of her skin before being snatched by the beast and rushed outside before she could even think of a reaction...the faint scent of gas infiltrating her nostrils before she was rushed out.

Panic set in her chest, and through Silver optics she observed the sky was tainted with a guillotine motion of navy blue thrusting down on reddened horizon. The stars applauded the promised deaths that would partake on Ke'lai... Thunder rumbled beneath the background while clouds drifted hazily combating the moonlight for dominance in the sky. Rain was an imminent element, the perfect tool to run the wasted blood back into the land. And as the darts of liquid crashed into Blakes flesh her ivory and ebony locks clinging to her skin as she was whisked away...

And as she grew closer...her mark tightened its grip on her mind and body. Wherever the Wookie was taking her...it was to something or rather someone dangerous...Blake struggled in the Wookies grip, growing more and more desperate as the pain intensified.

"Arrhg. Put me down!!" She shouted horsey, claws raking the inside of her throat as she thrashed violently in his arms. And when the Wookie came to a stop her forced herself free from his arms, crashing into the water mixed grime that coated the surface as water splashed around her, soaking her cloths as she pressed her face into the ground...gritting her teeth, tightening her grip on her arm as she lifted her head. Strands of her hair floating in puddles as the downpour rained down upon them. The first thing she saw...was a pair of legs before her...and as her eyes ventured upwards to find the owner she only stared up at the stranger draped in black. Her eyes narrowing for a moment as her ears rang deafeningly. This stranger...was she the source of energy that seemed to make her mark go haywire? Because if so she needed to get away before he noticed the dark signature corrupting her...then again he probably already knew. But still...best distance herself from him before he decided to do anything about it.

Blake lowered her gaze back to the floor and pulled up her hood, her swollen eye slowly opening as she struggled to her feet in a wobble. Still clutching her arm as agonizing pain wracked her body and tears streamed down her cheeks she took a breath. In the rain...she hoped no one could tell how much pain she was in.

'Just hide it Blake...they don't need to know.' She thought to herself before giving a slight bow.

"I'm...fine. Just fell is all." The girl lied, taking a few steps back as her hand only tightened around her biceps and her nails dug into her flesh. She quickly turned around, brushing past the Wookie and sluggishly dragging herself back to the restaurant as she growled to herself. She smelled the gas...and that woman. She had done something to the stoves...Blake would be damned if she let anything happen to that place. And as she rushed back through the Diner doors one of the droid waitresses instantly called her out.

"Oh, Blake you're back. What happened to that Freeloading Wookie? You know em?" The Droid asked almost naggingly. Blake merely grimaced as she brushed past the bucket of bolts and entered the back kitchen. Von was in the back preparing a meal before tilting his head.

"Ah Blake...Vicewoods food is just about done. Is everything ok? I heard some commotion out there while i was preparing, a scream?" He questioned innocently. Blake shook her head and went over to where that mysterious woman had gone to.

"Someone came through here and turned on the gas to all the stoves. Turn them off before your joint goes up in flames!" She hissed, stumbling to the back of the Diner as Von looked at his fellow chefs with a look of concern before hesitantly going to check their stations. Sure enough only to find out she was right...the scent of Gas was thick in the air and a majority of unmanned stoves had been tampered with. Blake headed over to the shelf where she saw the woman and reached up to pull down some boxes and other condiments...

After shuffling around for a moment, she felt the object that felt out of place and pulled it out. Examining the fuze for a moment before realizing what it was, Blake stumbled over to the back door and slammed her side into it, taking the fuze and tossing it out into the rain. Preventing it from going off and making the place blow up with everyone inside...

Blake took a deep breath and shut the door...pressing her back against it and slowly sliding down to the floor in exhaustion Von rushed over with a bag, crouching down to her level as he began to nudge the girl.

"Psst...Blake? Hey Blake!" He hissed in a hushed down as her eyes began to drift closed...the pain in her arm throbbing as she blinked.

"Mmn...Von..." She whispered as her bi colored locks of hair hung messily in her visage.

"Yeah?" He replied quietly.

"I think...i should go home...can you call...me a cab?" She asked tiredly, still holding her arm as she sat there quietly. Von frowned, staring at her for a while before giving a brief nod.

"Yeah...yeah i can do that. I'll go ahead and call...and have one of the droids bring Vicewood his food so you don't get heat for it." He offered, heading over to one of the companies holophones. Blake just nodded, resting her head against one of the trash bins next to the door as she allowed her eyes to fully close...the mark that corrupted her only sending out torrents and waves of Dark Force energies that she herself found overwhelming and weighing on her mind.

She would rest for now...

Just for a moment at least.