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Alexandra saw him approach and closed her eyes tight as she thought death had come... then nothing... there was nothing. Her eyes opened at his words and she blinked as he pressed on the wound and attempted to heal it, the pain though... that was suddenly. "Kar- gods that hurts..." She bit hard and grabbed his arms, though not for the reason he would expect. She began to channel her own power through him to help him from exhausting himself, already knowing he probably wasn't a master by the way he went about the healing, though he did know what he was doing. Her own aura was more than clear in that moment, not a hint of malice or darkness, unless he delved deep down into her and found the second being she had forced to serve her so that it would not hurt anyone. "You know, you are healing an enemy right?"
"You gonna keep swinging or get your friend off world and into good medical care?" He asked as he stood and waited for a response. His greed eyes watched the golden ones behind the mask. what would a real friend do? What would a Sith do?
"Hate to tell you... but i can take it from here..." She pulled his hands off and placed her own hands back on the wound and breathed in before her eyes closed and her aura suddenly shot back inwards, barely going further than an inch from her body as she breathed in a sigh of relief, her feelings of pain and anger being ejected from her body and her smile wide as she closed up the life threatening damage first and opened a eye to spare a moment of concentration. "Go ahead and play with your old friend Tsolan, i have helper anyways if i need one... Daeda, bring the bag please." In moments a small, near pure white, ashlan wolf came over to her, dropping a bag with more than a few medical supplies and at the bottom of it a thermal detonator without a timer, the detonator also seemingly missing though.
Another pause. Then you could practically hear the syrupy beckoning in her tone. ̢ Wh̶a̛t͏ ̀m͢ore͡ ͏w̷ould y̢ǫu r̀eq̷u͟írè ̶in͞ ͢k͡n̵ow̨in̶g? ͟ ͞T͟i̕me ̷i͘s̨ o͞f ̧t̡he̕ ȩs̡se͠nc͞e. ̢Thé ̛m̧o̷r̀e yóu ͡f̨ight͝..̵. the mo̡r͘e sha̛l̵l̕ ̢p͠ęri͟s̛h.̵
Her words would taunt him.
͟ ̧Ho҉w ͞many ́mor̛e͘ ͠ơf̸ ̢yo͢ur ͝b͜r̡óţh́ers ̢m͠ust ̵ḑi͝e ̛to͘d͢a̢y͟?͏
Àll the while, the bright green eyes of the snakes would move nearer. Ever near. As would the hidden form of the Hydra as she would creep closer behind him.
Meanwhile, back at the massive Vong fight. The Warkeeper that the Antarian Ranger would attempt to crawl into it's mouth would soon find himself being shaken very vigorously, in an attempt to shake him off.
The massive slug like creature would rear on it's hind legs, before coming crashing down to force the man to be ejected.
More background noise of the Yuuzhan Vong fighting Republic forces advancing on them. ( I'm sick so i won't go into too much detail. )
Location: Aldera Ruins, Allied Frontlines Objective: Dance Around the Vong Allies: Galactic Republic, [member="Kiskla Grayson"], The Last Alliance, [member="Siobhan Kerrigan"], [member="Phylis Alince"], Enemies: The One Sith, [member="Tsavong Kraal"], [member="Darth Mierin"] Musical Selection: More Than A Feeling by Boston
The Vong would not catch the droid, as HK picked up on the movement of Tsavong's tail, the high-speed rotary motors in his ankle activated as he slashed at the member with his Phrik claws. The slash almost instantly turned sustained and buzz was hard as one of HK's feet turned into a Phrik Buzzsaw, if the Vong's tail would continue in its path a portion of it would have been lost, unless it could withstand Phrik.
But there was a chance that Vong evaded the clawing slash, for the rotation made flying HK rotate as well, twisting and pirouetting parallel to the ground as he sped away with his jet systems, creating more distance between him and the Vong as it was his original plan. His form spun and bits of ground exploded from the soil as one of this shoulders hit the pavement, causing him to tumble and skitter once more as he was thrown by the forces of velocity, his cloak wrapping around him like a toga, the painjob of his armor scraping, metal scratching, bouncing, denting, rattling, like a can of screws being dropped from a moving car. HK clunged to his shatter rifle, hugging it like a child would embrace a teddy bear, making sure he would not loose the weapon during chaos of battle and ferocity of his movements.
One of his hands extended suddenly, metal talons visible on his gauntlet-covered hand as he grabbed the hard ground, dug the sharp blades into floor, and his form yanked, the motion diffusing suddenly, causing him to flip as he released the rock covering the ruins, slingshot into upright position. It would all seem so fluid, so calculated and planned as the droid had his rifle already trained the moment his form was standing, for that was the way he fought, always calculating and planning, scheming to never be left without an option, without a move, the sequence already drafted in his mind as he was spinning.
And so he pulled a trigger once more, this time with more distance between him and Tef-Vong to take better aim, still much faster than a human would do so due to the sensors and protocols, and a hyper-velocity shot would be fired by the rifle, many times faster than sound, some beings would even be hit before they would realize that the shot was taken at them. Anyway, this pellet, with ability to punch through some vehicle armor, was aimed at the Vong Beast's kneecap, it was meant to be a precise shot to weaken the enemy. The whole attack would only take a second or two, and the droid would not wait around to see whether it had the effect it meant for it to have, a beetle was already screeching at him, one of the critters unleashed by the Tef.
HK swung his rifle around, changing its position in his hands to hold it like a club, with a good swish the beetle was splattered and its carcass zipped away like a baseball would, another screech, the droid was quick on his feet to change his position, another bloodied beetle corpse was batted aside to smash against the ruined building's wall. The droid tumbled once more in quick position shift, rifle held over his hand to brutally smash a beetle into the ground. He would pivot, looking to Siobhan's position as he extended his left arm towards them. She was flying, Phylis was also there fighting off the Darth Mierin Gardensnake, Vong scarabs were seemingly everywhere as they had to deal with them too.
From the droid's forearms two barrels would extend and air before him would light up in the rain of his built-in blaster bolts, working with his sensors and protocols to amazing degree. Beetles would begin to screech and burn as they were slain in masses, every bolt for one beetle, with inhumane aim the droid landed a storm of plasma fire, eradicating large quantities of Vong creations to aid his allies.
The rifle he held in his other hand would drop to the ground with a thud, he knew he needed to be ready and willing, tracking position of the Vong beast, he knew retaliation would be swift and severe. So he needed to be quicker still. It was more than a feeling to him.
He let out a small laugh as she seemed to shrug off her earlier condition. "She's quite a tough one isn't she." He swirled his blade and took up a neutral position as he faced [member="Talon Vosra"]. "Now, either you can leave this planet, or we can finish what we started." Was he impressed that he had healed [member="Alexandra Cinthra"]? Yes. But this was a war zone and he had simply done an honorable thing. In return, Vulpesen had given him a chance to prepare himself.
Location: Aldera Ruins
Objective: Mess around with a Jedi.
Enemies: [member="Zaren Bouqi"]
Allies: Who knows?
To many, one would likely ask why the woman known as Circe Savan stalked silently through the ruins of Alderaan. Why such a despised sorceress, hated even by some of those in the circles of Darksiders, would be here, she had little to no idea. But there were relationships that could be beneficially cultivated were she to offer her support to the One Sith in defending Alderaan. Perhaps even Republic technology itself. Regardless, she needed to first deal with a particular Jedi in the ruins. Once he was dealt with, she could get her hands on some of the datacards still inside the ruined Republic computers. These datacards would hopefully carry worthwhile information, but at this point, who knew?
Then she eyed him. She was cloaked in the White Current, silently stalking him. All she had with her was a single disruptor pistol, and that was it.
Location: Aldera Ruins
Allies: Pubs
Enemies: OS [member="The Hydra Queen"]
Objective: Resist hail hydra!
The chuckle was something that worried him. And it usually meant that something was coming up. Something unforgettable. Then the voice turned into a whisper and from that whisper he heard his identity. The designation number that was given to him; the number that was in the Confederacy's system; the number that he was called as; the number that made him.
He heard the rest of her dialogue and taunted him with his brethren. This wasn't real. It couldn't be. But it was real and not a nightmare. He would slow down from those words, his eyes looking as if they would come out from shock, even sweat came from his face.
"You're not real, you monster! Show yourself! Face me with courage and with honor!"
Location:Aldera/Vongera Ruins, Yuuzhan Vong Surprise Ambush Objective: Land A Hit Allies: The One Sith [member="Darth Mierin"] [member="Smeg"] [member="Darth Junra"] Frienemy:[member="Trenchcoat Man"] Enemies: [member="Siobhan Kerrigan"] [member="HK-36"]
Apparently the Warmaster of the Yuuzhan Vong extremist faction Hrosha-Gul's efforts were substandard as both the Force Witch assailant and the droid who had been caught by surprise both evaded his attacks and launched multiples of their own in the face of the behemoth. Beads of sweat formed upon the Myrshavong's brow, his green eyes narrowing, emerald pupils watching the HK droid evade Tsavong's attempt to grab him while rocket boosting himself away with his feet while at the same time turning one of his limbs - Tsavong wasn't sure which one - into a phrik claw which would then subsequently slash at the Myrshavong's tail. The tip of the beasts tail was cut off cleanly, sending the violet-tipped prehensile limb flailing into the whipping winds of the Force Witch. The behemoth Myrshavong roared in pain, hoping only as he watched it sail away in the wind that the portion of his tail would eventually fly into Siobhan's face by accident as she continued to flutter about the battlefield tossing buildings and parts of them therein at the leader of the Hrosha-Gul. His adrenaline was too high to worry about a sacrificial offering to Yun-Amon - nothing would stop the beast in his relentless pursuiot, save death - as he watched the droid dance into a twisting and pirouetting parallel to the ground with his rocket boots still boosting. Specks of black blood, remnants of the sacrifice prior, speckled the Yuuzhan Vong's face as he formed yet another snarl at the droid. White teeth gnashed, saliva gleeted, veins began to form road maps of rage upon the forehead of the bald warrior of destruction. Tsavong watched with fiery intent as the droid continued to grip his gun close to his form, knowing that this was the same gun that was fired before in their close entanglement before the Droid willingly whisked himself away from their earlier encounter.
Winds whipped at Tsavong as he found solace in the few seconds he had before the Force Witch's next attack as he watched the droid extend claws of some shape or distinction and dug into the ground. That was a neat trick, the Myrshavong thought to himself, keeping one eye on the Force Witch as she took to the skies once more. He could've sworn she was flying earlier - obviously she was capable - but perhaps this was some trick, some illusion from before. Or perhaps it was the mind of a warrior, that battlefield emblazoned mind, that had tricked him into seeing something skewed in a reality that was his own. Either way, it didn't seem to matter now, there she was up in the air - but Tsavong could see the concentration on her face. The beads of sweat, the furrowed brow. He'd seen Sith Masters exhibit these same signs, and knew there was only a small limited frame of time that this woman could maintain this posture - which is exactly what this was. A show off. People who fought like this were simply attempting to display their powers in a method of terrorizing the enemy. There was no conservation, no restraint. Just a pure display of unbridled power. The minute she hit the ground, weakened from her timely overexertion in using her magical powers, the primal beast would be upon her ripping her to shreds. Or attempting to convert her in the name of Yun-Amon and the Dark Lord. Either way, this was no sustained form of attack. This was a measure of attempting to either end the Yuuzhan Vong quickly, or scare him off. Neither would prove her solution.
Tsavong had trained for this his entire life.
The HK droid shouldered his weapon and Tsavong merely stood in his spot, unmoving, stoic in his stance facing the droid as the Jeedai continued to put more distance between her and the behemoth. She would need it, Tsavong thought, his heart pumping faster for what he knew was to come. His senses, even in this whipping storm of currents, were on high alert and performing fantastically. He took a deep breath in defiance of the Droid, knowing the inorganic creature could never feel what he felt now. Could never feel attuned with the ground he stood on, could never feel the wind whipping at his face, could never feel the primal instinct of both nature and combat as Tsavong did now. The creature was in symbiosis with his transformed environment, in sync with his surroundings and the battlefield. Every muscle, every tendon, every bone and sinew - with the exception of the missing portion of his tail – tensed with the adrenaline of the moments that were about to predict the future of this battle. The three heads upon the Kraetos shield that the Yuuzhan Vong hybrid held in his head began to gnash their teeth in deadly defiance, each of their fiery red eyes glaring at the droid, plasma seemingly seeping from their mouths as they continued to feast for his blood – or lack thereof. Tsavong wondered if the biot could consume his entire form for nutrients, and in this capacity could the behemoth Tyrant return the droid’s deformity to the ecosystem. The natural circle of life, of organics. The circle of feeding. Would the Droid return to his Maker? Would he meet Yun-Yuuzhan, as the children of the Gods would one day upon meeting their ends? Or would the droid simply cease to exist. One might think that would be a depressing way to live, to know that when you were powered down, when you ceased to be, that there would be nothing else. To not know the beating pulse of life that was the heart of Yun-Yuuzhan, Yuuzhan’tar, the giver of life and the Creator – he who sacrificed his limbs, his body for the creation of the universe. This droid would never know these things, would never know sacrifice, love… not so long as he remained outside the natural realm. This creature was nothing but an abomination in the scope of the Galaxy, something that provided nothing but a meaningless waste of space in the eyes of the Gods. Perhaps he could serve Yun-Yammka, the God of War, in some capacity… but Tsavong would probably find that even the Warrior would spit upon the image of something not born of the body of Yuuzhan’tar.
The whole thought of it would leave a bad taste in Tsavong’s mouth, but that was a battle for another day.
Today, during this battle, Tsavong would meet the raising of the HK droid’s rifle. The abomination was obviously trained for combat, and was attempting to match the speed of the poised four-armed behemoth as they would meet in this standoff. The gun whipped up, ready to fire, but still Tsavong stood stoic. Like the behemoth he was, the creature wouldn’t dare stand down, or cower, before an abomination of this magnitude. No, instead the creature would take a step forward, smile, and wink at the Droid before raising a shield to his right just as the shot was fired. WHAM. A massive pillar, thrown by the Force Witch through the air as she maintained flight and sustained her maelstrom, would connect with the faces of the Kraetos shield as it would open in flame. The hypervelocity round would pierce the pillar, missing the tyrant widely as it hit the pillar and shattered the back end of it. Tsavong’s next few seconds were a complete railroad of wild exhilaration, pain, and suffering as the creature was flung through the air by the force of the impact that had been mostly absorbed by his Vonduun Skerr Kraetos shield. His hand felt numb, his arm felt instantly sore, but for the most part most of his body was still found in working order as he continued to tumble down the hillside of the terrain within the city. He fell on his back and then was back up on his feet again, then once again onto his back and once more onto his feet. A dust cloud grew to heavenly proportions from his epic fall from the shattered battering ram that had been sent in his general direction and had also seemingly saved his life from what seemed to be a deadly shot from the abomination. In those few moments, Tsavong knew what had been coming, and purposefully positioned himself to take the hit in order to evade what he envisioned to be yet another one of the powerful shots from the Droids supposed life-ending gun. The beast would not be stopped, he thought to himself, reveling in the pain as he stood to his feet once again. The beast would not be stopped.
He turned to watch the blue blaze of Darth Mierin’s attack on the Jeedai with a hydrastaff and lightsaber – and the blue blaze of lightning towards the flying force witch – with blurry eyes from the trainwreck he had just suffered and was now wondering whether this flying witch was now once again shrugging off an attack from possibly one of the most powerful Force Users the One Sith had to offer, though then again he wasn’t quite convinced he knew what he was seeing… he had just been hit by a train. Surely this woman was a celestial with all of her grandiose power, even if some of it had been gifted by another, whom had now for surely been distracted. Tsavong looked down to take inventory of what he had left – his armor was mostly unhurt, his inventory and his weapons were still intact even from suffering the collision with a piece of the building – he was only missing the end of his tail and now, apparently, his Kraetos shield. The three heads were whimpering and their light began to dim from the impact with the pillar from earlier. The Dark Tyrant said a silent prayer to Yun-Amon for this sacrifice and gently placed his shield on the ground in front of him, reaching for a plasma eel that was in his pouch of his armor, which harvested a great many weapons of the Yuuzhan Vong. Bloody hands reached down to force one of the mouths of the Kraetos shield open and began to force feed the plasma eel into the mouth of the Kraetos shield, a creation of an extremely volatile nature. Tsavong then began to swing the Kraetos shield in wild circles rapidly, and shot put the shield at the HK droid from afar. The creature, if it connected in the vicinity of the abomination, would explode with gratuitous violence as it was aided by not only the volatile nature of the Kraetos shield but also the organic explosive nature of the plasma eel. The behemoth could only hope that this Droid didn’t have the ability to fly or rocket boot himself around like the flying witch did, whom he now turned his gaze on.
Furious hatred and annoyance towards beings who exhibited this sort of power of this sort of magnitude. What sort of Jedi was this, anyways? Surely she was a Sith on the opposite side of the battlefield, a Sith opposed to the ideas of the Dark Lord. The Myrshavong had, in his time studying and preparing for battle against the Jeedai, never encountered a Guardian of the Force that quite exhibited the aggression and blatant displays of power that this particular one did. Flying about, displaying grandiose maelstroms coupled with the shaking and tumbling of buildings – the woman was either mad, gone insane in the head that her world of Alderaan was being rebuilt in the image of Yun-Amon – of the woman was extremely desperate in her plight to be rid of the One Sith. Or, it could be as Tsavong suspected – this was an acolyte of the Dark Side, as Darth Mierin and Darth Junra had instructed him of such, and that she was merely displaying power adequate to her mastery over controlling the Force, not serving it. Part of Tsavong wondered if Darth Mierin could simply negotiate with her, convince her that the One Sith do serve all Sith, that they had provided order where before there had been none among the disciples of the Dark Side. Yet the other part of Tsavong wanted to crush her, wanted to wear her tired from her theatrics in using the Force – which he again presumed would happen rather quickly due to such an exhibition – and take her remains back to Coruscant to study her brain or perhaps transform her in the the ways of the Shaping Protocols… or perhaps beyond. Either way, very little of this mattered as the Yuuzhan Vong had already decided that Darth Mierin would require his involvement and Tsavong once again began sprinting in the direction of the Jeedai who had attacked him with the pillar, his four arms hitting the ground and aiding his feet in running as he began to reach the speeds of a Voxyn. His devil tongued leapt out of his mouth, streaking through the air as a thick trail of saliva and black blood and dust marked his path of battle.
Running to an opposite position across the battlefield of Darth Mierin in an effort to flank the flying woman, the beast began reaching in one of the pouches of his Necraesa armor for just the right tool for a person who was seemingly unassailable. He began to feel around in the pouch and began to feel the flutter of wings in his pouch… and the skitter of tiny insect legs upon his hand. The Yuuszhan Vong reached deeper in the pocket and grabbed three total of this small critters and the joy of their flutter of wings told Tsavong they were ready and willing to obey the will of the master and Shaper. Snap bugs, they were, the flash bang variants of the Yuuzhan Vong. These variants were quite different than the analogous versions the Galactic Infantries would use, as these variants would flutter their wings and begin to seek their target out through the air – and if they failed to find their target, or missed their target before exploding – they would circle back around and try again and again until their mission was successful or the bugs were stopped. With a furious flick of his wrist, Tsavong sent the creatures sailing through the air at the flying Jeedai in an attempt to blind, distract, and confuse her. These beastlings would, upon reaching their target, explode in a deafening sonic boom and a bright flash that would blind their prey. If the brought her down from the air, which was extremely possible given the amount of concentration flying would obviously cost a user of the Force who was also tossing maelstroms and buildings about – Tsavong would descend upon her faster than the pillar that hit him. And his maw would gaping wide, ready to consume her entire essence, and return her – unlike the abomination that tried to kill him – to Yun-Yuuzhan. Unless Yun-Amon intervened, and asked that she be converted to the ranks of the army of the Yuuzhan Vong, of chaos and evolution. Though the fiery rage was the driving force behind most of Tsavong’s decisions, he would ultimately listen to his Gods for their directions.
Location: A few blocks outside the battlezone, floor 12. Objective:Stop the Vongforming Allies: One Sith; Aldera City Enemies: The Republic;YUUZHAN-VONG Soundtrack:
Phase 1 went as easy as could be expected. After picking out a target in the form of a thamassh, taking it captive was simply a matter of Dermarcus bashing its mouth in with the butt of the scattergun. Benedict assisted with a few brutal blows to the head here and there, the thick glass of the whiskey bottle refusing to shatter even after the third blow. Though the thamassh could not speak their language, they still swore at it viciously, laying upon it with harsh insults it would never understand, adding cruelty to the entire exchange through the sheer one-sidedness of the hatred involved.
So what if they needed to get amped up? For most of us, It’s hard to hurt things with a still pulse.
You psychopath.
The choice of the office building was convenient as much as it was symbolic; its location across from a REconstruction site a hard reminder of what Aldera had wanted to be, rather than what the Yuuzhan-Vong had since decided for it. Passing through the main entrance, the two men dragged the foul beast across the lobby, each pulling upon a single arm as they mopped the granite floors with its allegedly purifying fartmist. To each his own.
“Ah, hell,” Demarcus whispered, directing Benedict’s attention to the security desk and the guard still occupying it.
“He’s asleep,” the Guttermage assured without looking up, forcing the cabbie to re-evaluate his opinions regarding Coincidence and Luck.
They pushed the elevator button only to have the doors immediately open. Demarcus shook his head and laughed as the trio made their ascent.
“Right, then. We want the West side, ennit?,” Benedict wondered aloud as they reached their floor, lucky number 12.
3+2+7
“How about 'Left' or 'Right?'” What was he? A compass?
“Kark’s sake. Just follow me, mate…,”the Guttermage grumbled, tugging on the thamassh.
“So, Left, “ Demarcus teased with a laugh. He was starting to feel the liquor.
They had just taken another left turn when the thamassh first began to stir, its moisturized bum likely taking a stink to the carpet burn as it was steered down that long hallway of abandoned cubicles. Moonlight streamed through the windows in isolated beams, prodding at the creature’s delirious face from the squared portals overlooking the girders and construction equipment.
But as they advanced, the walls took on a shine, the floor took on a squish. The building had been Vongformed, at least in part; half-inorganic, half biological, like some kind of architectural cyborg. Benedict relinquished his grip, a sudden awareness to an additional presence in the room hovering around a glimmer of light, reflecting off a pool of…something. It was a big brain jellyfish floating in the center, staring at them with a sublime menace that did not require eyes. Metaphysical experience intuited its existence was for ritual purposes. Benedict could jive with that; but he wasn’t too groovy with the Vong attendant charging their position. Reaching into his trenchcoat, he produced his Ancient Sith Evil Black spraycan and started to shake it, the little stirring ball rattling about the metal chamber. At the same time, Demarcus had stamped on the thamassh’s increasingly aggressive face before readying his scattergun.
It was clear the Vong was no warrior, dispatched far too easily by a conman and his driver. When within range, the Guttermage maced the attendant’s face with the spraypaint, blinding him, then quickly spun out of the way. When Benedict was clear, Demarcus fired off the shotgun, catching the Vong in the gut and sent him careening back….right onto Benedict’s awaiting lightsaber, lopping his head off and ending his threat.
He extinguished his lightsaber and returned it to the abyss of his overcoat.
“Brilliant. This is perfect, this is,” the Trenchcoated Man seemed genuinely excited…and bizarrely unconcerned about the monster they’d wasted so much time and effort in dragging this far, trading his interest for the bigger, newer one at the end of the hallway.
“Uhhh, he’s waking up, man, “ Demarcus stated the obvious. The thamassh was emitting a sound akin to crying; a desperate effort to sound an alarm from a broken mouth.
“Bugger me, is he really?” Benedict had started off back down the hall from whence they had come, spraypainting an X within a circle upon the wall. A few feet down, he placed another.
“What should I -- ?”
“Put the poor bastard down, yeah? We don’t need ‘em anymore,” Benedict placed a third and final circle-X.
“Really? Are you karking kidding me?”
“Yeah. Light ‘em up.” He had opened up a maintenance closet, disappearing into it.
Demarcus shrugged and fired. The scattergun blast erupted with sound, giving way to more as the creature wailed in protest of its insides being made outsides. Demarcus made a bit of a wince face, relocated the muzzle for the creature’s nose and turned his head into paste.
“There’s a lad.” The Guttermage patted the side of Demarcus’ face condescendingly and handed him a big, white jug.
“Motherkarker – Don’t you ever –.” His lack of appreciation for Benedict’s contact would take a back seat, however, as he looked at the contents of the bottle: Bleach. “This for him…?,” Demarcus asked in earnest, the notion that, once this was all over, this whole place may well be a crime scene occurring to him somewhere in the garage of his mind.
The Trenchcoated Man was in the process of spraypainting an odd circle upon the floor surrounding the outside of the chemical bath. He adorned it in symbols typically associated with magic of the scary variety. “Nah, squire, it’s for me,” he muttered, pulling a piece of bubblegum from his mouth. He minced it up in his fingers, placing a small wad at specific intervals along the outside. “If this goes pear-shaped and I start looking a bit under-the-weaffer, you’re going to need to dump that on me head, right yeah? Purification and that.”
He returned his spraycan to his person, returning to Demarcus and the freshly-dead vongbeing.
“’Purification?’ Damn man, shouldn’t you just use – Hell, I don’t know – Holy Water or something?”
“Kark off– You trying to burn me?,” Benedict grinned wickedly. He crouched at the foot of the executed thamassh and gestured Demarcus over, “Give us a hand over here.”
Demarcus set down the bleach and moved over cautiously, not quite sure what to make of all this. “You know, dude, I’m seein’ you zip from here to there and back again –“ The cabbie paused for a moment, watching Benedict plunge his grubby-ass hands into the monster’s buckshot-riddled guts, rooting around with all the care and intention of a child searching through his toybox. “—like you know what you’re doin’, but I ain’t seein’ you stopping for two seconds to recognize that none of this makes any damn sense. “
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, mate – but there ain’t a whole lot in this sodding galaxy that makes any karking sense,” Benedict tore his hand out, now in possession of the thamassh’s fartmist gland. He handed it to Demarcus.
The cab driver refused, “No way.”
“You’re right -- might be plagued, like.” With that, Benedict began to rip at the bottom of his shirt, tearing off the bottom, leaving his midriff exposed like some 90’s G.I. Joe. His junkie physique revealed a six-pack and a black chaosphere around his navel, because why wouldn’t it? He wrapped the gland like it were a rock in a sling, spat on it, then handed it back to Demarcus.
“When I enter that pool, I’m going to start babbling like a loony. Don’t question it – Just swing that bloody fing like a censer, and mutter ‘Tchurrok sen khattazz al’Yun, tchurrokt’tiz’”
“Tehchurrock zen kattaz alyun tehchurrock tees?,” Demarcus repeated unconfidently, awkwardly taking the “censer.”
“Tchurrok sen khattazz al’Yun, tchurrokt’tiz,” he corrected.
“Teh Cha-Rock zen kat-taz alyoon the cha-rock tease?,” Demarcus repeated, somehow getting worse.
“Sod it. Close enough,” Benedict withdrew his cigarettes, packing them against his hand as he turned back toward the pool, “Keep saying it. You’ll know when to stop….I reckon you will, anyway.” He set five cigarettes in his mouth, then took his time lighting them all.
“Oh, so I guess that means, ‘Bring in the noise, bring in the funk – let’s get this party started,’ huh?”
Benedict pocketed his items, removing the whiskey from earlier and tossing it at Demarcus’ feet. “May as well.” He made his rounds along the outside of the pool one final time, setting one of each of the four cigarettes in the wad of gum from earlier, the prelit stogies continuing to smolder like cheap candles.
He kept one in his mouth, of course – for that’s just how guttermagick worked.
“Here we sodding go, then,” he took a deep breath, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke, and slowly stepped into the Succession Pool.
“Tchurokk Yun’tchilat,” the street magickian spoke in a low, guttural snarl as he approached the Yammosk. He was trying to be ingratiating to the monster, speaking its own language. It was garbage mostly, a collection of phrases he’d picked up from comic books, from Live-Action Roleplayers.
Demarcus took the cue, walking around the outside of the pool, waving his gland, spreading the mist, and mumbling his lines in the most half-assed way he possibly he could.
“Bruk tukken nom canbin-tu.” Now up to his waist in scum-water, the curious brain reached out its tendrils to the imposter. They encircled his midsection in a squid-like hug. “Bruk tukken Vong pratte.” He could feel it probing at his mind, hammering relentlessly on the doorbell on the house of Eden.
Demarcus continued, painting the room in the purified musk of the Yuuzhan-Vong; in the lulling cadence of worship.
Benedict focused on the smoke rising from the cigarette as it dangled dangerously from his lips, stealing inspiration from the rising images in an effort to escape confronting the nightmare that wait before him. It was like a microscope, only in reverse; not the peeling back of layers, but the laying them down, sight fixed closer and closer, millimeters into micrometers, the damming of light and electricity in their receptors, brain-voltage binding and building…until…
“Pop!,” goes the pineal gland.
The Yammosk infected him, and he infected it right back. Benedict’s eyes rolled back into his head and his voice shifted from lowly growls to a booming command, “ZIRDO LONSMI DEPEDE ZARZAX.”
Demarcus arched a brow, feeling suddenly very different about the situation. He botched his prayer for a moment, but continued where he could, swinging his censer. The smell started to change, he’d noticed.
“SOBA DOOAIN MAD ZILODARPE…”
It smelled like car exhaust.
Benedict’s body continued to chant, but his sense of self had gone elsewhere.
Across the spectrum of awareness, he and the teenage Yammosk wrestled; a battle of angst, of adolescent rage…
For a moment, he was a Voduun shoulderguard, then a grokata, devouring a squad of Republican soldiers…
…a crash of identities, a grudge against authority…
…he was a charging rakamat, its sudden aneurism felling it jarringly amidst the slaughter…
… Concrete versus Crabshell; a contest of None-More-Spunk…
A shaper; a weebit, seconds before getting smacked by the butt of a sniper rifle….until, finally…
Once her ship had landed in a once familiar spot now forever changed by the technology that was changing her home world Rianna stood upon Alderaan looking up she could see the changes already in the sky. She had to move toward Aldera. Rianna picking up the pace ran toward the city.
She tried not to look upon her world as she moved it would hurt her to the core and worse if she saw the citizens the look in their eyes would it be accusatory or sympathic she could not bring herself to look. Soon she was nearing the edge of the city looking in. oh my she thought, she had to keep a control on her emotions. She tried to sense others near by reigning in her healers sense to help she began to slowly move, watching as she did.
Aldera Ruins
[member="Darth Mierin"], [member="Siobhan Kerrigan"]
Long, complex and annoying. No, that wasn’t the review of Phylis’ later work on Force levitation in the Pre-Tython Era (not yet anyway), it was trying to keep up with this thread.
Since it seems the Sith pureblood is the only one bothering to involve Phylis in their fiendish plans, Phylis reacted only to her.
The rock was chopped aside. Good. No point fighting an enemy who couldn’t block a rock.
Phylis’ danger sense flared though as the hydra staff suddenly spat poison at her with terrible ferocity. The Jedi dodged hard to the right, rolled up to her knees just in time to block the slice of the Sith Master.
Levering herself off her feet and dancing back, she faced the Sith, blade settled into the traditional Soresu stance.
For retaliation, the Jedi called upon the Force to blind the Sith, hoping to surprise her. She followed up with a quick jerk of the Force aimed at the woman’s legs to try and topple her to the ground, dazed and stunned so she would be easy prey.
Aldera Ruins
[member="Phylis Alince"] [member="Siobhan Kerrigan"] [member="Tsavong Kraal"]
As soon as Mierin felt the massive telekinetic chains around her, she reacted. She may not have been as proficient as the other Master, but she knew Telekinesis well enough to not be crushed or thrown about by it, at least not for long. She felt herself getting lifted and tossed backward from the Jedi master, the force building within her, just as she was about to be slammed against the ground a massive pulse of the force escaped her.
The invisible chains around her limbs were broken, the grip on her throat loosened, and Mierin fell to the floor with a loud thud.
Mierin crashed to the ground, sliding on the hard concrete and scraping her armor. She cursed, scrambling to her feet and looking towards the Jedi master she had attacked. The Hydra heads over her shoulder hissed loudly, each peering at the Jedi. The Serpent let out a loud hiss, then slithered up Mierins arm.
The Sith Pureblood threw the snake like a spear, tossing its five hissing snapping heads towards the Jedi Master.
Then suddenly the world went dark.
Mierin let out a loud scream at the surprise of it. The bright flash of light emanating from Phylis' hand blinded her almost instantaneously, she let out a screech, cut off by the tug of the force on her leg. The Sith Pureblood twirled, then fell onto the ground with a curse.
Before the Jedi, or her friends, could get to her, Mierin pressed onto the ground with the force. She sent out a massive wave of energy, pushing debris, dirt, and sand into the air. She created a massive smokescreen of fine rubble.
Cloaked by one of those Nuun things Carach sat nearby on the roof of a partially destroyed building, studying the battlefield and waiting for a moment to pitch in himself, battle wasn't about glory. It was about winning and the moment he saw Siobhan fly over with the Vong Voice attempting to throw something at her... the Lord knew now was the moment to act.
Reaching out with the Force he attempted to crush Sio's mind with his own. Best possible scenario would be catatonic state, but at the very least it might be possible to distract her long enough for the Vong to... do whatever he was planning on doing.
Talon sighed and reached down for a hand full of dirt, then rubbed it between his hands and took a defensive stance. He had hoped that the Sith would leave quietly but it wasn't meant to be.
"Oh." Was the only reply to the dramatic reveal. There was always something these days, people were darkening left and right. Selena had been just as dedicated to eradicating the Sith as Daella --- but her methods had been deemed controversial.
"A resolve that has been built on a faux foundation. Admirable indeed.
Hand-in-hand with your faux promises of galactic peace." She was referring now to the Vong and the other dark purging methods the genocidal government was using. "Unification by infection and indoctrination does not mean harmony."
Kiskla had a vague idea what The One Sith were offering-- she'd heard it from Ben, and those who had succumbed to [member="Darth Isolda"] spoke words of Vahl's liberated promises. She'd seen Marcello's interaction with Shara-- about eradicating the Jedi to build on a new foundation. But for a government that had to adopt pseudonyms and change their identity? There was no trust there.
In history, the empires had been accepted initially, but the people eventually wanted their weight to mean something and rebellions would rise. It was the duty of the girl and her army now to prevent the next generation from having to do the dirty work. "How can you do this. Move forward for your Dark Lord without any regret or thought to The Jedi and those that believed and worked with you to advance The Republic?"
She needed to be more useful on this battlefield than sit and talk forever.
Location: Scaling the beast
Objective: Attempt to slay the Warkeeper
Allies: [member="Kiskla Grayson"]
Enemies: Warkeeper, [member="The Hydra Queen"]
Wells was almost there when the great beast realized that there was a small thing hanging off its face by a rope. He had just enough time to spot the creature's movement before Wells was tossed around like a yo-yo on a string.
The Warkeeper tossed its great head back and forth and, with it, Wells on his line. He managed to avoid injury from the inertia somehow. Maybe it was the armor. Maybe it was that the creature didn't put enough effort into the attempt. Maybe it was just pure luck. Wells wasn't picky, he was just happy something kept him from snapping his spine, or worse.
The Ranger was thrown around like a rag doll and then, when the great beast reared up on its hind legs, was flung high up into the air over the thing's head. He had just a few moments of falling, his limbs flailing a little bit as he plummeted through the air, before he hit something solid and started sliding as the beast's feet thundered on the ground.
He'd landed on the creature's snout, near the eyes. Giant cannons flanked him on either side, studding the monster's head, spine, and face. It was a slightly awkward predicament made worse by the fact that he was sliding off because the rope was no longer anchored. Frantically, he hit the retract button on the thing, the rope rapidly reeling in as he slid. He had one chance and one chance only.
That is, until chance number two revealed itself. One of the smaller guns on the beast was coming up ahead, and fast. He could wait for the rope to reel in and try and hook on to something, or he could risk grabbing a potentially live cannon and hope he could move fast enough. The cannon was coming up fast and the rope hadn't reeled in fully just yet. Choice made.
He snapped an arm out and grabbed the cannon with his left hand. He immediately realized two things. First, his sliding, uncontrolled fall was now controlled and fully stopped. Second, the cannon was still hot from firing; hot enough to burn him through the armorweave glove on the armor he wore.
He bit back a cry of pain and gripped tighter, though his body told him to let go. Carefully, painfully, he pulled himself up until he could get a foothold on the beast's hide. It was barely soon enough. As he finally let go of the cannon and consolidated his foothold on the beast's hide, the cannon went off. The backwash of heat was enough that he felt painfully uncomfortable through the sealed armor, something he made a note of for later.
Now came the scramble. Bit by bit, Wells pulled himself up the side of the Warkeeper's snout, carefully using spines for foot and handholds and the edges of armor plates to grip on to. He ignored his burned hand. It functioned, it wasn't bleeding, and it was still attached. He could inspect it later when the medics looked at it. Slowly, he made his way to the front of the snout and decided to take a quick preventative measure.
He took the grappling hook and secured it around a forward spike, making sure it wouldn't slip or slide off. Once done, he stood on the edge of the snout and prepared to rappel off.
Tsolan let out a small smile as [member="Talon Vosra"] prepared himself. "And the dance plays on." His saber's swirled at his side just before he leaped forward, bringing wide yet quick arc towards Talon's mid torso. It was a simple attack, one that's chances of hitting weren't very large at all, but at least it was something. Besides, this was only the beggining.
Location: Fighting Glitter, Fighting Sparkle, Fighting Sith and Vongspawn
Allies: Jedi
Enemies: One Sith
Saki moved as she gave a grunt, the jawbone of the leviathan striking into a vong as she didn't care of its protection from the force... She just gave it what was needed. Blunt force trauma as the teeth shards bit into the enemies. She had incinerated one while the other was there without its jaw. She barely acknowledged the other fighting while the sight from standing up on one of the creatures brought her attention to larger vong beasts being attacked by Republic soldiers. She was just smirking now while wading back into the fight and the weight swung into a creature as it went up into the air.
Saki checked her comlink and the thing was busted as she removed the thing from her ear popping her neck and her shoulders popped. She was looking at the large beastie and chasing after him as Glitter slammed a large limb into the ground, Saki umped up abandoning the weight and grabbing some of its scales while she started climbing up the beast and could hear it roaring. Her bracelet protecting her from being sensed as she bypassed a blister pod that was filled with republic soldiers. The leviathan getting smarter while she kept going towards its head.
Then she was feeling something against her back, as she was flying.... Through the air and looked at her shoulder where there was pain and a spike was in it. A hangnail from the beast going through her shoulder and it was roaring while she went towards the creatures mouth. Force energy flaring and pulsing throughout her body as she reached for every reserve she could and she punched seeing one of the beasts teeth as she felt it. The gauntlet of the armor shattering as the Akure leviathan's tooth splintered and split then shattering.
Saki stayed there for a moment and didn't feel the pain just gravity coming as she snarled and kicked at the gums with twin blue jets of fire before more came from her hands. She kicked off and away letting the blue light glow in her eyes and her sigil draw upon as much as she could propelling her into the air towards the mountains. That was worth it and she debated what to do after all of this trying to find logic in her next step and trying to figure things out. She wasn't finding it, the idea of retaking the world with a handful of forces when the enemy prepared after each engagement had her doubting.
Then she was slamming into the ground and making an impact crater as she laid there and groaned looking up. She could hear someone running and rolled up out of the crater shaking her head. "Oh my head." She looked up and saw her then, [member="Rianna Ordo"] one of the old jedi councilors before it had been dissolved, a master healers and as Saki stood up. Someone who might know where she actually was. "Hey ah Rianna.... did you catch that plates on that speeder?" She moved a little groggily and stumbled.... Okay maybe she was worse for wear but at least she was alive and there was one less tooth in the beast.
Talon hopped back as the slash came across and stepped to the sith lords right side and waited as he now looked at him from the side rather than the front.
