The Cult in the Caves: Lords of the Fringe Dominion of Phu

[Coren Starchaser]

Right, disappearing. And focusing. Coren blinked a second as he watched [member="Tal"] run. He was trying to comprehend and process everything that was going on around him. Things were moving a bit faster than he was expecting, and without the Force, it was like drowning. But he had seen that things were going quirky. He'd only use it when he really needed it.

And leave it to the teen queen of the Fringe to point out the obvious. But it seemed that [member="Ashin Varanin"] was... moving? Not teleporting? That was... unexpected. Coren looked behind them before holding his pistol in one hand and chasing off after Tal.

And he wasn't sure if someone should be covering Ibaris Varanin-Jacobs or not, but he figured she could handle herself. Without waiting to see what the others were doing, he got off after the droid. Truthfully, the girl scared the kark out of him. Time to get to work, apparently.

[member="Matsu Xiangu"] [member="Nui Akona"]

 

[Hannibal Oryen]

[member="Dûvain"]

After witnessing the atomization of the Trandoshan, Hannibal decided it was in his best interest to stand up in the presence of this magical space gnome or whatever it was supposed to be. He looked between the space gnome and the manager. Obviously, the manager was utterly drained of color by this point and staring intently at Hannibal, as if waiting to hear whether or not he was going to get the death penalty. Pretty stupid. Did the manager really think the space gnome was the type of guy who would just waltz away if Hannibal refused his offer? Space gnome would just atomize the manager himself.

But, whatever. Hannibal could loot the bank card off the manager's corpse if it came to that and go get his fair earnings that way. As of right now, the Fondorian was not equipped to deal with Force Users... Or gnomes that could atomize people.

"Well, gee, did 'e actually do somethin' t' ya?" He inquired.

 

[Ashin Varanin]

She was still, she noted, paralyzed.

Except her arms had been paralyzed first. And now they were waking up, in an agonizing fashion. The rest of her was being manhandled into a suspended iron cage. Someone, it seemed, had decided to make the legendary machine run even if the Force was beyond erratic. She slumped against the inside of the bars, unable to raise her head, unable to reposition her legs or hips-

She let out as hard of a breath as she could manage, grabbed the nearest Frangawl cultist by the mask, and ripped said mask off his bulbous head.

At a guess, making her as invisible to him as to any non-Frangawl.

Her other hand slammed up, crushed the Phuii equivalent of an Adam's apple, and caught the bars of the free-swinging cage door. She latched onto the door with her other hand. Very, very slowly, she pulled herself upright as the Frangawl choked to death. Every frangawl cultist in the cavern turned to look at her cage.

At which point [member="Tal"] burst into the cavern, and it all went to hell.

 

[Sal Katarn]

"He existed."

Dûvain's expression would have seemed bored, but for the smoldering fires in his red eyes. The Arkanian Hybrid's thoughts were as tangled as a briar of thorns, purposeless save to cause nuisance and harm. His actions carried as much meaning as the destructive winds of a hurricane. There was no master plan, no driving force. Nothing but a vaguely curious three hundred year old monster, wondering how his prey would react if he prodded it just so.

"Humor me," he said, in a voice that implied [member="Hannibal Oryen"] had a choice, much in the same way a cat that tore the wings off a bird pretended the bird had the choice to hop away to safety.

What a wonderful little game they play.. Building illusions of stability and civilization. Let's pull back the curtain and show them their reality.

Entropy.

 

[Ashin Varanin]

They had a bunch of sacrificial victims ready to go, maybe fifty metres up and away, all hanging in iron cages. A clang echoed through the cavern, and Selka rose from where she was evaluating the ancient Force Drain machine. She squinted up the stone chute. One of those figures looked non-Phuii...

...and had just killed a Frangawl. Without the Force. From inside the cage.

She squinted harder and felt all blood drain from her face.

 

[Hannibal Oryen]

[member="Dûvain"]

"Uhhh. Well, I ain't usually the type 'a guy to straight up murder folks f' no reason, but since you seems like a pretty nice guy..."

Hannibal stroked his chin for a few seconds, considering what price would be within the gnome's purchasing range, sufficient to cover the costs of carrying out the murder, and ultimately make casual murder on Hannibal's part a bearable thing. After that allotted time, Hannibal had come up with a price.

"Thirty-seven bazillion Ithorian shekels."

 

[Onith Trill]

Chaos yessssss.

My 'gut', manufactured and filled with sensors though it was, was correct. The Grand Admiral was found, and doing rather well for herself by the looks of it. But there were still the matter of the Frangwal Cultists and Bardottan captives.

"Cultists on twelve, eight, three, and ten o'clock" Tal shouted to the group behind him, though those locations would only be true for a moment or so as they scattered and began to attack. Tal had already begun to open fire, clocking one cultist in the chest with a blaster bolt and hitting another on the bridge of his nose. If Tal could have smiled he would have. Making a shot to the head of a target thirty meters away obscured by cover with a factory-standard blaster carbine under fire was a difficult shot to make. Achieving one's goals against statistically long odds. That. That was love.

But love only lasted so long, as did droids without cover. Tal sought cover in a nearby rock after making his two shots and began to scan the perimeter, figuring out his next target.

[member="Ashin Varanin"] [member="Ibaris Varanin-Jacobs"] [member="Matsu Xiangu"] [member="Nui Akona"] [member="Coren Starchaser"]

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Tal"] 's blasterfire slashed across the intervening space and punched into the second-nearest Frangawl's skull. Pins and needles through her whole body-

She slid out of the cage, braced herself against it, and lashed out to catch one the recently be-holed Frangawl by the sword arm. A Frangawl blade, smelling a little like an unfamiliar kind of alchemy, slipped into her hand; she lashed out to ward a spear away, and took the spearhead clear off.

"...nice. Very nice."

 

[Arage Bao]

There are times when to play it simple and subtle, but then there are these times. Times when one of your teammates gets captured by crazy cultists to be sacrificed, times when you run into the room and witness dozens of other prisoners waiting to be taken into their infernal machines.

Those times? They are times I get angry.

Took out my pivot blades and started working, dodging bolts, crouching when necessary. Got one in the side anyway, burned, stung, was painful - especially without the Force blunting it. But I got vong physique these days, I endure and keep cutting them.

They would die for this.

 

[Onith Trill]

The Frangwal it seemed, did not enjoy using conventional technology. Like say, blasters. Instead using things like "Swords" and "Spears" and "Magic." None of which I really understood the place for in modern society, but there was probably a TA-4 droid somewhere that would tell me it was dishonorable that I used my blaster instead of a blade.

Personally though, I couldn't waste two processing cycles on what was "honorable". I'm a soldier, I care about one thing. And that's results.

So more blasterfire poured down from my covered position, taking down a few cultists here and there, till I detect a rather burly fellow coming on my left flank. I turn and shoot a bolt at him but he has some magic armor, just takes it and keeps going. If I were a human I'd probably sigh or curse, and I do a little on the inside, but my main course of action is to back up and find a new position, while laying some fire on this armored Frangwal. Hopefully before someone else chucks a spear at me.

[member="Ashin Varanin"] [member="Nui Akona"]

 

[Coren Starchaser]

Cultists.

Crazy cultists.

Coren was here because there was exploring to do, and he needed to do what he could to help out the Fringe. Sure, maybe he wasn't a combatant, but he could protect people fairly well. He was following after the others, however slowly, but part of him wanted to watch the terrifying teenager. With her 'Papa' kidnapped, no need for her to be left to make irrational decisions.

Checking the load on his pistol, Coren nodded. Following in behind [member="Tal"] and [member="Nui Akona"], he took aim, squeezing off rounds, one, two, three claps of thunder in the cultists' home. That wasn't the best move. And two out of three... He was supposed to be a good shot, but without the Force?

He needed to get back in the sky.

 

[Sal Katarn]

"A mercenary with moral standards..."

Dûvain almost smiled. Almost.

"Something new. I enjoy new things. Do take care of yourself mortal. Until we meet again..."

Poof.

He disappeared in a flash of glitter.

[member="Hannibal Oryen"]