Public Panic on Pzob

[Shora the Shameless]

Rook Heimdal | Gray Venasir | Everyone Else!​

The magnificent city of New Haven stood out amongst the tall jungle leaves of Pzob as a shining light to those who were looking to start anew. It was a city brimming with well-paying jobs and endless adventures, perched on a luscious planet with untapped potential. The perfect place for a young man or woman to start a family or to strike out on their own. Or at least that was what the Lord Mayor Trask hoped everyone would believe. In truth, New Haven was in an unwelcoming part of the galaxy on an even more unwelcoming planet. Simple brick houses lined streets that were not paved with gold and often not paved at all. There was only a handful of cantinas, much to local's dismay, and only one space port. The wilderness would claim the lives of would-be frontiersmen frequently, so often that the Lord Mayor had to invest in deceptive tourist holograms to attract workers, lest his lumber company crumble. It was hard work to even keep the vegetation back. There are times where the jungle, looming over the wooden palisades, threatened to swallow up the the town whole, as if it had never existed at all.

But alas, all was not hopeless for the town of New Haven. Peace had finally been struck with the neighboring Gamorrean clans and further trade may open up with the porcine barbarians. New investors are eyeing an opportunity to further harvest Pzob of its natural resources would grant credits to Lord Mayor Trask to improve the infrastructure of New Haven in preparation. New investors would mean new workers and new families and new businesses to support those workers and families. For once, New Haven has a chance to be the city that it has been advertised to be. Lord Mayor Trask has worked hard for the day that this town would become more than a pitstop for people who were going to better places. And if the success of New Haven would make him filthy rich, then all the better.

The Lord Mayor leaned back in his chair, daydreaming about his future wealth. He was this close to greatness. He could taste it! But soon the sweet taste of victory soured in his mouth as he remembered the one thing in his way. His new investments were on the condition that the Lord Mayor could guarantee the safety of those involved. He had been able to hide the news of the ghost from his investors thus far, but his time was running out and so was his patience. Every man slaughtered, every cargo hold ransacked, chipped at the morale of New Haven and at the pride of Mayor Trask. Bounty Hunters would return shaken from the jungle if they returned at all, and more than one pitchforked mob has ended in bloodshed. Even the fierce Gamorreans would dare to speak about the ghost.

The Lord Mayor twisted his mustache, stewing in his prideful, portly, wrath. How could he sleep when the beast was out there prowling in the forest? Its very existence mocked him! Here he was, carving civilization out from where there was nothing, risking his time and money, and yet this creature, no better than an animal, has the power to ruin all of this? The audacity! The defiance! And everyone else seems to be scared out of their minds! Do people not realize what he is trying to build? And bounty hunters, what a joke! Why he would do better to grab his own hunting rifle and march right...

~ Mayor Trask ~

~ Mayor Trask? ~

~ Mayor Trask! ~

The voice over the comm link had broken the Mayor's train of thought, bringing him back down to Pzob and the matters at hand. Annoyed at his fantasy of vengeance being interrupted, he sighed and stretched to relieve some of the tension he had built up.

~ Yes. Yes. I am here, what do you want? ~

~ It is the hunting party that went out yesterday sir. They haven't come back. ~

~ Haven't come back? ~

~ They are not coming back. ~



~ Sir? Are you there? ~
~ Lord Mayor? ~
~ Mayor Tr- ~

~ You listen to me and you listen good. I want that bounty tripled on whoever can get the ghost. I want it brought to me alive! I want its head mounted! I want its skin to carpet my office! Send out a signal as far as you can to everyone you can. Every scoundrel, bounty hunter, tracker and assassin! Jedi! Sith! Dentists! I don't care! Make them come to Pzob. or I will send you out into the jungle next! ~



Somewhere deep in the jungle of Pzob, Shora the Shameless sits and smiles to himself contently as the sun sets behind the tall canopy, his belly full with the good folks of New Haven.

 

[Skajin var Imret]

This whole sector brimmed with refugees from the encroaching Bryn'adul. After weeks of recruiting and training among the survivors, Skajin suspected they included the last known representatives of at least three species. He could, to a degree, empathize. When he touched their minds he felt aloneness that eclipsed his, exponentially. At least the Kubaz had enough of a galactic diaspora that the species would endure. Not so for...

...well, a long list of others. Many of whom were setting up to live out their lives on Pzob because it was conveniently close but well beyond the battlefront.

Some of those survivors had taken up bounty hunting to pay the bills. It was much like signing on with Skajin's guerrillas except for the money angle, and he didn't begrudge them the chance to build their skills and provide for their communities. People like that were the future of their annihilated species.

Until a monster began prowling in the woods. When Skajin stretched out his mind, he felt only the terror of the forest. From the enemy he felt an implacable, incomprehensible silence.

He'd called his fellow guerrilla, the woman who'd promised to teach him the Force strength he needed: Laertia Io . They'd been discussing going on a mission together, a resource raid or a nibble at the Bryn'adul lines, so she could teach him in the field. Maybe this was their opportunity, and it was certainly Skajin's problem.

***​

The rogue xenobiologist checked his scarpyen armor's venom-dart launchers for the third time this hour. He'd taken a skiff out over the forest, with a powerful sensor suite attached. The Force offered nothing direct - except the fear that the monster inspired in various lifeforms. That was more than enough to give him a general sense of direction. He kept the skiff a good thirty meters above the tree canopy as he scanned.

Shora the Shameless

 

[Don Cagliostro]

The large green man, Don, had wind of the troubles going down on a part of this planet. He hadn't made his way to Pzob before. But he had been in Gamorrean space for some a bit lately and caught wind of an interesting bounty. He normally didn't take on gigs like this. But it was being issued by a notable mayor. He trekked through the jungle with 4 other members of his hardy crew, towing over them as he led them. His Sporting Blaster Rifle was holstered over his shoulder for when he found this "Ghost", and if things got a little too up close and personal he still had his trusty Vibro sword, shaped like a classic cutlass.

He wasn't sure if there were others in the Jungle, who too were hunting the bounty. Don honestly didn't even know if The Ghost was some particularly savage Gamorrean or an actual beast. Either way he didn't really try hard to be stealthy. He would constantly chat with his men as he move though the foliage. Often chuckling loudly at his own jokes. Clearly too confident over the situation.

"I just hope we can get this over with until too long, maybe treat ourselves afterwards with going somewhere better in the Galaxy. Honestly I've had my fill of Gamorrean dancers for a while. Good to mix things up..." He didn't really understand how the Sows of their society were successful. Where he came from it would be the talk of the kingdom with news of female leaders.

Nonetheless he continued his trudge through the thick jungle landscape in hopes they'd run into their "prey" sooner rather than later...

Shora the Shameless

 

[Kaiden Rien]

With an old geezer snoring soundly on his shoulder, Kaiden furiously rubbed his hands together in an attempt to warm up his frigid palms. The air was stale and it smelled like old fish grease. But it was suitable not to mention Kaiden preferred to travel by cargo hold anyhow. He's a wanted man and the underworld his creepy stalker. He can't count how many times a rogue syndicate or anonymous payroll has put a bounty on his head and sent half the galaxy sifting through his hair. Bottom line, it was unsafe to travel openly especially when a means of transport isn't always available.

Dust and other particles went flying through the cargo hold as the landing struts opened allowing a small measure of sunlight to filter through the small hold. "Hey. Old man." Kaiden shook the drooling man from his slumber. "We're here." Blinking away last night's sleep the old man slung his satchel over his shoulder his ragged poncho and stained trousers a reflection of his most recent endeavor. "I swear there will never be a day where compassion is stronger than greed, at least not today anyway." Kaiden began to button up his coat as the gusts of wind grew stronger. "Alright grab on tight and don't let go!" Arching his back Kaiden allowed to small man to climb onto him as he looked over the ground below.

It wasn't a long drop but it would ensure that no one on board saw the duo exit the vessel, at least not until they were already gone that is. Slipping through the small opening Kaiden landed inside the New Haven spaceport a looming shadow growing larger by the second. It wasn't long before the two were dashing through the streets of New Haven warranting looks from the bewildered populace. "You said your family is the next house right?' "Uh...I think so I can't seem to remember much before..." "Don't sweat it. I understand." With all the war and politics and weapons spreading like the Rakghoul plague all the various factions tend to forget that it's cities they are fighting over and families they are burning to the ground.

It cant go on. Sooner or later there's gonna be nowhere left to run and then what? What will be left to fight over? What will be left to destroy? What's the point of ruling a galaxy if it's just a graveyard? What does it matter who's in charge if your legs get crushed under your house after a stray bomb levels your neighborhood? Walking up a small flight of stairs Kaiden approached the front door of the small townhouse before him its old paint job and decayed underbrush making it out to be older than it is.

"Let's hope it's the right one..." Knocking the brown wooden door, Kaiden heard voices from inside. They sounded panicked as they scrambled inside their hushed tone and fast speaking apparent to the young man. Eventually, the door did open...to a man holding a high powered rifle...

Kaiden nearly fell down the stairwell as the barrel trained on his forehead. He went to explain himself when the man abruptly dropped the rifle and darted into the back of the house alerting the rest of his family. It wasn't long before they all came storming out of the house, practically tackling Kaiden as they began to hug and kiss the old man. Kaiden took a glance inside their home taking in all they had to offer. It wasn't much, they barely had any food and the furniture they did have was matted and ripped. They're refugees...just like the old man. Kaiden looked at the family who were still hugging (and in some cases berating) the geezer. When they fled their home on Riileb did he get left behind? They must have been desperate to get away if they couldn't go back...

Well, now his next mission was simple. He needed credits and lots of them which meant he needed to find work...but where? New Haven isn't exactly a known landmark so he doubts it'll be easy to find credits fast but it's his only course of action...

Don Cagliostro | Shora the Shameless | Skajin var Imret

 

[Gray Venasir]

"This is New Haven? Really?" Gray was standing outside the landing ramp of his ship. His astromech droid, "Shiny", was standing beside him, and whistled an answer to his owner. Those who could understand astromech droids whistles would know he was not fond of this place, far from it. "Yeah, I don't like it either, though I would have the decency to not use such words. And besides, we're here for a job, not for vacation."

This kind of work wasn't among Gray's usual job-list. But the number of credits in the job ad made it too good to pass up. And the ad mentioned dentists, for some reason, so the job couldn't be too hard. Supposedly, a ghost was haunting the woods near New Haven, and terrorized some local Gamorreans. "Guess the previous hunters couldn't have been very good, if they can't deal with a ghost." Gray knew from experience that such stories like this one, tended to just be a mad hermit, or a crazed force-user. They could be dangerous, but that was a risk Gray was willing to take if it meant redusing the number of force-users in the galaxy.

"You wait by the ship Shiny, and I'll contact you if I need a pick-up, okay?" The droid whistled something Gray chose to ignore, before he rolled up the ramp inside the ship. Then, Gray set out into the forest in search of the ghost.

Shora the Shameless | Skajin var Imret | Don Cagliostro | Kaiden Rien | Rook Heimdal

 

[Laertia Io]

Wearing: Black Knight Chitin

Armed with, Constant Gardener

LJ-50 Concussion Carbine

Accompanied by: Syd Celsius wearing the 90 Suit and a squad of Nuetralizer Model Ones

Came to Pzob in: The Shadow Bride

A black Starship the size of a Light Frieghter dropped out of Hyperspace.

Aboard it was its Captain and her strongest Ally, who was also her paramour.

Laertia Io piloted towards the planet feeling like a rock was deep in her stomach. Her new student, Skajin var Imret was going to need all the experience he could handle. Syd was going because she expressed interest in using Magic Rituals to bolster Pzob's defenses, and was actively looking for magical focal points to facilitate this. Laertia had come to test something about to go into full production.

She had brought a pair of droids modeled on a human skeleton. Each had been equipped with Mandalorian Assault Rifles in addition to their onboard weapons. Syd had only glimpsed bits and pieces of Laertia's special project but it made her grow more intrigued at such a display of engineering. It was a thing to both marvel and be sad at. The closest Laertia might ever get to having children and they were all bones, no skin.

Both were still in deep sorrow at having to leave the Jedi. Spending time together helped, but each were still suffering near crippling guilt over the things they felt they had to do to oppose those in opposition to their efforts.

They had progressed more, a bit on personal secrets. At revealing them at least.

Laertia quietly confessed one night as they meditated together that at one point she had wanted to kill her master for not showing up after she was injured. Syd had confessed hating her "creator" in much the same vein but mainly for imprisoning her after she had done what he asked.

Both of them, betrayed by their makers. The more she learned, the more she believed this was destiny at work.

Laertia felt Syd's gold chrome covered arms wrap around her shoulders. In spite of all that freakishness on Abraxas, Syd's Mind, her beauty did wild things to her brain. She craved it. Craved having her at her side, in spite of how bizarre it was.

"Its been a while since I've seen you use that blade..." She remarked. "Feeling Nostalgic?"

"Sorta..." Laertia said with a gulp, thankful the black helm with a green visor hid how she blushed, as Syd gently ran a finger against the part of her helmet covering her jaw. Syd pressed her lips against the top of the helmet.

"Without you at my side, I don't think I'd have the guts for all of this..." Laertia admitted.

"I could never have let you do it alone..." The Force Spawn replied as she landed the deadly warship.

They held hands as they walked through the cold, imperial derived warship. Laertia was better understanding the cold within herself by having Syd's heat to contrast against. Their attire also contrasted, Laertia in modified armor based off Echani designs, Syd in a skintight blue and gold enchanted catsuit covering a curvy, athletic figure that had a chromium sheen, making it reflect everything around it as she walked, stopping in front of the pair of Nuetralizers that would accompany them to the Jungle.

The sinister steel skeletons, bristling with hidden weapons were currently inactive. The first two production models of the line. Syd activated them with a control switch.

Their red photoreceptors glimmered on and Syd's eyes widened at what the Battle Droid's said next in unison:

"The Nuetralizer has entered The Dance Floor!" they said with a synthetic electronic deep tone.

Syd turned to her with a wry look.

"I know you are grinning under that helmet."

"Only because of your bemusement, my Inferno-Haired Muse..." Laertia replied.

The two Nuetralizers turned and noticed them, walking up. Syd noticed that their walk wasn't the walk of droids, but individuals. Organics.

"Hello, Mother! Do we get to Boogie today?" The Nuetralizer with the serial number 001 asked.

"Welcome to life, my children." Laertia said, terrified and nervous at being a mother for the first time. "I am Laertia Io, your designer and creator. I gift your first day with the potential for danger. You shall march with me and my...my..."

She turned to Syd, unsure how to describe what Syd was to her in a way that felt adequate.

"My precious treasure..." Laertia said after a moment, finding some words that made Syd smile. "Number one, you shall accompany me, Number Two, you shall accompany Syd."

The Nuetralizers nodded in affirmation.

"But before anything else..." Laertia said, removing her helmet so she could look at her sons with her own eyes, holding out her hands. The murderous robot skeletons took them.

"Lets have fun..."

Laertia and the robots began to waltz together, Laertia's will kicking on the sound system so dubstep began to play...

Meanwhile...

She felt her new student deep in the jungle, after paying the docking fee to an awestruck collector at the deadly warship, they had departed, each going their seperate ways on Pzob, Her off to jungle secrets with the second of Nuetralizers, and her with the first to aid Skajin. She rented a skiff where she had, and let her skeletal son pilot the craft to where she sensed her student was.

Skajin's inner hate radiated out, and Laertia was conflicted. Skajin didn't seem evil to her in spite of his dark nature. It left her deeply confused inside.

She at last stopped by his skiff, waving at him and teleporting aboard his skiff.

"Hello Apprentice. Who is the target? I figure today we would better hone your danger sense while we are out here, as well as your combat acumen. How have you been? I saw a bunch of guerillas wandering new Haven."

 

[Shora the Shameless]

Rook Heimdal | Gray Venasir | Skajin var Imret | Don Cagliostro | Kaiden Rien | Laertia Io | Syd Celsius​

It has been eight years since Shora had crashed on Pzob. At first, he thought it was an act of divine punishment. That the Yun'o had condemned him to die on this foreign planet so far away from his home and family. But as he had pulled himself from the wreckage and regenerated his wounds all those years ago, he realized that the Yun'o were not done with him yet. Perhaps this was the opportunity he had been searching for, to redeem himself under their ever watching eyes. Through pain and sacrifice did the Yun'o create the Yuuzhan Vong, and only through pain and sacrifice can they be appeased.

And so in exile, he had honed both body and mind. In many ways, the jungled planet was similar to Shora's homeworld of Zonama Sekot. While the smells and tastes and sounds were a bit different from those of his youth, all of Pzob was brimming with life. Every breathe of the fresh air was electrifying to the Yuuzhan Vong warrior. He loved to watch the sunset every evening, to prowl the jungle floor in search of food, to battle the hordes of Gamorrean warriors that were almost as bloodthirsty as he was. Shora had even carved himself out a quaint little hut on the mountainside. Indeed Pzob has grown to be his home away from home. Before his crash, Shora had the misfortune of wandering aimlessly across the galaxy. He had happened across more than one planet choked with large structures, unnatural lights that hurt his eyes, and unfeeling metal men. Life was abundant on those planets too, though it felt different, more artificial, more staged. No, Pzob was not like those concrete forests. At least not yet. Shora was convinced he was placed on this planet for a reason.

At least, that was what he thought initially.

But the slaughtering of so many Gamorreans in tremendous clashes of flesh and blood had started to lose its appeal. It had become repetitive, and his injuries would still mend themselves. His body was still pristine from any scars or wounds that he had earned during his exile. It was like he had never left Zonama Sekot at all. He hadn't aged a day since his shaming, and his body has nothing to show for the constant fighting and numerous sacrifices he had performed on Pzob. This above all was what discouraged him. Were the gods not witnessing his struggle? Have they truly abandoned him in a body that rejects all bodily sacrifice?

Such thoughts had plagued his mind since he was first exiled. But over the past few months a feeling gnawed at Shora's stomach that it was time to move on in his journey. That perhaps he won't find redemption on Pzob after all. The dreadful feeling inspired him to pull his crashed Yorik-et from the undergrowth and start repairs. Just in case. He had been raiding local caravans coming and going from the human settlement for parts over the past several months, and had begun attracting more attention to himself. New sacrifices enter the jungle every week now. Shora could feel something coming in the future. All he needed was a sign from the Yun'o.

The large warrior sat on a log outside his small mountain hut, overlooking the jungle valley and the human settlement below. It was a refreshingly cool winters day in the jungle, and the wind ran across his alabaster skin. His amphistaff, his closest companion, uncoiled from around his arm and straightened out in his lap. He began to apply venogel to Nagini's razor sharp edge, watching the settlement in the distance and listening to the sounds of the jungle behind him. All he had were his thoughts and Nagini to comfort him up here.

However, his contemplations were broken by a sudden noise behind him. His pointed ears pricked up at the sound of something loud stumbling through the jungle floor. Two feet. Perhaps several bodies with two feet. He turned to meet whoever had stumbled upon his clearing. No local would dare visit his hut if they even knew its location. However, another buzzing sound attracted his senses. Shora, perplexed, turned in the opposite direction to the sight of two skiffs coming up the valley in the far distance. Was this the sign he was looking for?

The young warrior stood up from his log and straightened the Nagini in his hands, preparing for friend or foe.

 

[Skajin var Imret]

She rented a skiff where she had, and let her skeletal son pilot the craft to where she sensed her student was.
Skajin's inner hate radiated out, and Laertia was conflicted. Skajin didn't seem evil to her in spite of his dark nature. It left her deeply confused inside.
She at last stopped by his skiff, waving at him and teleporting aboard his skiff.
"Hello Apprentice. Who is the target? I figure today we would better hone your danger sense while we are out here, as well as your combat acumen. How have you been? I saw a bunch of guerillas wandering new Haven."

Skajin jolted violently as Laertia vanished from her skiff and reappeared on his. And he'd felt the Force work in a completely alien way.

"What. What wasz that, Laerrtia? How did you do-" He choked on his words. "The Forrcze can be uszed to teleporrt!?"

He'd known that Silk Holdings cracked the teleport-gate code years ago in an extremely limited way, and there were a few other curios bouncing around - but all technological. Behind the lenses of his scarpyen armor, his eyes bugged out as the possibilities unfolded.

"How long did it take you to learn that?" he said, missing her questions entirely. The hunt was, for the moment, secondary.

 

[Laertia Io]

Laertia felt deep discomfort at hearing his speech, for it so reminded her of the verbal impediment she had, kept suppressed by Syd's magic. His awestruck state made her blush under the helmet in embarrassment.

"Yes. It can be used for that. The power to destroy a planet is insignificant next to the power of The Force." Laertia answered, nodding.

When he asked how long it took her to learn, Laertia scrambled to give an answer.

I had...advantages. I learned it as a child, and spent years honing it. I'll teach it to you if its possible...not everyone can teleport, and those that can often can't do it the way I can...my...my brain is just wired differently..." she answered.

She gestured to the steel robotic skeleton piloting the skiff.

"Skajin, that Droid? Its the first of thousands. Its called a Nuetralizer. Its based off droids built to fight the Vong. They are being built for the CIS, and a few other factions, but they are also being built to reinforce We Who Survive's own guerilla forces.

"I am programmed wanting the death of all Bryn'adul." The Nuetralizer said on the skiff next to Skajin's. "And when they are all dead...we shall boogie..."

"There were some quirks in the metaprogramming. They should iron themselves out over time..." Laertia mentioned, not mentioning it was her who had designed the fiendish droid to start with. She then turned to her original question.

"So, who are you searching for?"

 

[Skajin var Imret]

All of the above prompted further questions, but Skajin held his anteater tongue. Strange or not, the droids certainly looked worth deploying. He had the feeling they'd create quite a mess.

"A monszterr hasz been eating patrrolz out herre. It crrosszed szome compatrriotsz of mine - otherr surrvivorrsz of the Drrael - and slaughterred them. Otherr hunterrsz are out in the woodsz." He gestured at the sensor suite. "I'm trracking a few. When they converrge with otherr lifesignsz and begin to die, I'll have found what I'm afterr. Whateverr it isz, I can't find it in the Forcze. I hearr only szilence and the fearr of life arround it."

Laertia Io

 

[Laertia Io]

"Ahhhh...a void..." the helmeted woman remarked, removing her helmet. She stretched out her senses, free of the Brain Regulators in the helmet.

"Some species, like The Vong, are Force Dead. Others can hide their presence...if its the fear of life you feel, then pay attention to where that fear is the strongest, where it actively retreats from, rather than trying to find something you won't find normally."

She stretched out her senses, recalling the lessons 'Ursula' (Secretly the homicidal Force Witch called The Amalgam ) had taught her...

Even now, just speaking Ursula's name could drive her almost to tears. The reveal her Mother figure (Not her first, nor the last, it had turned out) had been the psychotic witch stalking her and murdering and mutilating innocent people had cracked the very core of everything she believed about herself.

No longer was she a cast off failed Jedi pining for her Master's approval, her only company being the Android Moya Virtu and her beloved rabbits and desperately looking for the next gig in a dying business as a Stage Magician performing tricks in public and at birthdays.

Now she was...someone trying to stay alive with her loved ones and figure out what the hell she wanted from life. Really wanted. And she wanted to kill The Amalgam for her treachery...but mostly, she wanted to kill The Amalgam for creating Ursula...and then not staying buried in that False Identity.

She wanted to kill the Witch because, more than anything else she had done, her chief sin in Laertia's eyes was breaking her heart. Selfish sentiment, yes, but it was how Laertia really, honestly felt...

Laertia felt shame and self disgust at still loving "Ursula". It made her wish to vomit. She still hadn't told Syd about her, about that Witch.

Laertia instinctively controlled the electronics of his skiff, directing it to a far off area in the distance, The Nuetralizer in the other skiff followed.

"Your enemies will not always be easy to find. But the indirect methods of seeking them, by looking for where the evidence of life's disruption is at its highest, you can narrow your search. Tell me, my student...What's your plan for killing the threat? Do you know much about the kills conducted so far beyond obvious consumption? The method of killing will tell you much. Were tools and weapons involved? How many? When do the attacks occur? How quickly is the process over from start to finish. I never considered these things in my youth, there was only me, and the knife, and the person the knife went into. It wasn't until I received my own combat education that I began fully considering this."

She went a tad quieter as she got closer to where she felt disruptions.

"Look, see if you can find any evidence of your foe's passing...don't look for him...concentrate where the disruption is highest..."

Laertia didn't give Skajin var Imret the typical advice of calming his emotions to be at peace. She was no longer a Jedi, and thus not training him as one. She had thought some of the rules in place quite silly.

Laertia had decided to not lecture him on 'anything' unless he asked first. You can't 'convince' someone away from the Dark, no matter how well reasoned. They have to decide for themselves to give it up. Getting preachy with him would only build resentment in the long run.

Besides, Laertia wasn't a paragon of morality herself. Any lecture she could give would fall flat on its face just on those grounds alone.

For now, it was enough she had a student...




Shora the Shameless

 

[Shora the Shameless]

Gray Venasir | Don Cagliostro | Kaiden Rien | Laertia Io | Skajin var Imret​

Shora the Shameless stood completely still, amphistaff in hand, as he listened to the rustling movements which approached his hut. His muscles coiled tightly beneath his alabaster skin, ready at any moment to pounce into action. As the footsteps drew closer, his pointed ears could pick up several voices coming from the undergrowth. He relaxed his muscles slightly. Even though his knowledge of Galactic Basic was poor, Shora could tell that they were not expecting his presence. He called out into the jungle.

Qe'u! Bos sos si?

Mon-mawl rrish hu camasami.

Shora listened for a response but heard no reply. As if they could speak his tongue! He stood silent, listening for any more rustling in the undergrowth but he could hear and see nothing. Perhaps he had scared them off, whoever they were. Nevertheless, by accident or on purpose, the intruders stumbled too close to his hut and Yorik-et. Shora would need to hunt them down lest they spread word about his location to the humans or Gamorreans. Not that he minded the conflict, but he preferred to meet the enemy on his own terms and such a disturbance to the sanctuary that he had built over the years had irritated him.

But before he could set out to pursue his prey, the soft hurring sound of skiffs had regained his attention. They drew much closer now and he could roughly make out the skiffs' occupants. His brow furrowed at the recent developments. Unknown forces approached him from both sides and he knew not why. He was beginning not like the situation that he found himself in. The skiffs would surely see him and his hut positioned on the mountain side. Shora thrusted his amphistaff into the air, prompting Nagini to spit a venomous glob at the nearest skiff. The ball of neurotoxin would fall far short but hopefully its occupants would receive the message. One foe at a time.

Leave!

 

[Cedric Grayson]

He'd drifted in with the rest of the dregs about a week ago, or perhaps it was two weeks? Maybe three? Time had become something of a loose concept for the exile after his arrival on Pzob, aided by the constant flow of tihaar into his veins. The world had become little more than a miasma of images and vague stimuli that the Reuigen registered in the same sense that a Bantha might notice a fly. The conversations he carried were empty and meaningless, and the concept of a proper sleep cycle was both foreign and unwelcome.

The handful of denizens that frequented the sole cantina in New Haven had come to regard him as something of a fixture in the establishment, akin to a piece of furniture set in the corner of the room: wholly familiar, ineffectual, and utterly unnoticed. That much suited him just fine. he had little want for companionship, and even less so to deal with the problems that all sentient beings seemed to come packaged with.

Better to linger on his own, to let his veins rot with alcohol, and fade into obscurity. It was better than doing any more damage than he'd already inflicted on the galaxy with his supposedly good intentions.

"Another hunt's on," the bartender called, though his voice was nearly drowned out by the beating of the Reuigen's own heart. Tihaar had a way of making everything seem dull and uninteresting.

Despite himself, the exile couldn't help but lift his head from his table and stare hazily at the bartender. "Eh?"

The old man peered at him with a mix of annoyance and pity coloring his features. "Another hunt! The Ghost struck again, don't you know boy?"

"I've not paid much attention," the Reuigen managed as he did his best to sit up fully in his chair. "How many?"

"Quite a lot! Didn't expect you to know given how you are, though I figured one of you Jedi types would do something about it by now," the bartender muttered as he gestured emphatically toward the Reuigen's choice of dress. He was still wearing the same robes he'd donned during his last conflict with the Bryn'adul. He'd not bothered to launder them or opt for a change of clothing since arriving - indeed, he was having trouble recalling the last time he'd showered.

"I...guess I am one of those." He muttered, gripping hard onto the back of his chair to force himself up to his feet. The bartender was right, of course. Disregarding all moral obligations, it was his essentially his duty to deal with the threat. It'd been easy to ignore it whilst indulging in the alcoholic swill, but he'd taken notice now.

He couldn't ignore it now, no matter how much he wanted to. It would eat away at him, just like everything else, and he had no desire to add to that ever expanding list.

"So you gonna do something, or do want another drink?"

"I'm gonna do something." He snapped back with far more force than he intended. "I...uh, do you know where the hunters were headed?"

"Into the forest I'd guess. Took a couple skiffs, could probably follow after them if you leave now, but eh, you don't really look to be all there if you get what I mean."

"Probably not," the Reunigen sighed as he walk-stumbled toward the door, his hands raising to draw his cowl over his face. The Force could guide him if he allowed it to, but if he let it back in, he might never rid himself of it again. "Probably not," he repeated quietly to himself as his boots squelched through the muddy streets toward the awaiting treeline.

Shora the Shameless , Laertia Io , Skajin var Imret , Gray Venasir , Kaiden Rien, Don Cagliostro

 

[Skajin var Imret]

Laertia Io Shora the Shameless

Skajin nodded and closed his eyes under the helmet's faceplate. "The fearr isz frresheszt..."

When he opened his eyes again, a large pale figure was pointing something weapon-like at the skiff from a mountainside hut a good ways off.

"That way," the rogue academic said drily. "I sztill szensze nothing of him."

Skajin steered the skiff that way above the trees, closing to less than half a kilometer. Any closer and the unknown-but-long weapon could be a serious threat to the skiff. With macrobinoculars, he tried to get a better sense of the target. The Force wasn't offering much.

"Larrge. Barrbarric. Capable of violensze. Thisz isz likely the Ghoszt."

He wasn't much of a marksman, not enough to bullseye a man from half a klick away. Therefore he'd come prepared with one of the weapons that Laertia and her associates had recommended: a Stouker concussion rifle.

The huge weapon jolted against his armored shoulder almost hard enough to dislocate it. Skajin dropped the rifle on the skiff's deck with a strangled grunt. A heartbeat later, a portion of the mountainside exploded. Whether he'd hit anywhere near the big pale humanoid and his hut was an open question.

 

[Laertia Io]

Laertia smiled as Skajin var Imret pulled out the Concussion Rifle, and blasted off part of the mountain in the distance.

Ah, you remembered my suggestions. But I see you had trouble firing!" Laertia complimented and critiqued, picking up the rifle like it weighed nothing. The Nuetralizer Model next to them gave a thumbs up at the destruction.

"I dunno if it killed anybody, but damn if that isn't a way to start a Dance Off!" The murderous, intelligent battle droid remarked.

Laertia took the time to give out more instruction.

"Heavy weapons require a certain stance when firing to absorb as much of the recoil as possible."

Laertia demonstrated by shifting her footing and posture while hefting the rifle. She squeezed another shot in the same direction, destroying more of the mountainside.

"Try again, Skajin. Learning to control such power is even more important than acquiring such power to begin. You'll build up your physical strength, and it wilk teach you efficiency when operating deadly weapons..." she explained, handing the rifle back to Skajin. "Try again. Firing giant bolts of Mega-Death is not a skill easily learned. Anymore than becoming an expert with the Force is."

Laertia was disturbed at how much her method of instruction was starting to resemble that of her own mentor...

Laertia got a bit of a fright at the idea that she wasn't as different from the Amalgam as she believed. She hoped she wasn't screwing up with Skajin this early. But they had come from two different worlds, and had two very different alignments (Perhaps not as much as she thought though, given her infamous brutality) in the Force. She wanted to train him to the best of her ability, but there was still this fear she might end up screwing him up even worse than she was. What tolls would avenging his home take on him before it was all over. Would her burdens make his worse?

Laertia suppressed these worries, deciding to just keep her eye on the ball and train him. She watched how he would do in the next few seconds...

Shora the Shameless