Dominion The Rising Storm | BotM Dominion of Durace

[The Mongrel]

Location: Durace, Forest of Broken Glass
Tags: Thomas Barran | Keilara Kala'myr | Erion Justeene

Spoiler: TL;DR

• The Mongrel retreats before the Starweird attack and evacuates his warriors
• Noticing that Mercy is not with him anymore, he goes to search for her

The Mongrel had, over his long career of brutal warfare, faced down many foes, from the most elite soldiers of a half dozen different galactic governments to the likes of Jedi and Sith themselves. He had demonstrated something of an ability to punch above his weight class, holding his own against mage-knights with sorcerous powers far beyond what his technology or brute force could match. He'd achieved this through ingenuity, improvisation, and savage cunning, along with simple, stark refusal to die. But he had also learned another lesson.

He'd learned to know when he was outmatched.

Whatever the wraith creatures were, the warlord knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was powerless against them. Though Jedi and Sith were powerful, capable of doing with their minds what would take a platoon of soldiers or squadron of starfighters for him to accomplish, they were still mortals; they bled when you cut them, and if their formidable abilities could be overwhelmed, they could die. But these things, these horrors from the endless emptiness between the stars... nothing he had could even touch them.

Perhaps it was simple luck, or perhaps it was a continuation of prophesied destiny, but someone who could hurt the things had just arrived. The Mongrel did not know the Ubese Sith personally, but members of his species were rare enough among the Maw's ranks that it was easy to guess the identity of this one, who wielded the Dark Side. He could only be the one called Superious, who had fought for the Brotherhood on Carlac, Csaus, and Dromund Kaas. Now his blades, one of them shining crimson and the other seeming the drink the light...

... were all that might hold the ghosts at bay.

That was still just a might, though, and The Mongrel had no intention of sticking around to find out. He had secured what he'd come here for, and had no intention of sacrificing valuable warriors in a fight with incorporeal spirits if he could avoid it. Yet the galaxy itself, or at least this accursed planet, seemed to continue to conspire against him. High above, the skies suddenly roiled with thunder, the dangerous storms that wracked Durace's blasted surface intensifying around him. By the Dark Three, how he hated sorcery!

That hatred turned to fear as a voice issued forth from the man he carried, a voice with an air of the otherworldly. He did as that voice bade him, setting down Barran's body, and was surprised to find that the man stood despite his unconsciousness. The omen's head turned, and The Mongrel met his black-eyed gaze. Twin pools of darkness bored into his metal head, sending a shiver down a spine that no longer existed. What was this?! What strange wickedness had overtaken the Shriven One? Was the prophecy not yet complete?

Around and above them, the storms intensified, the skies themselves seeming to tear open. The Mongrel could not sense the Force rift, the utter wrongness of it, but he could see and hear enough to know that something bad was happening. More and more of the Starweirds spilled through, the normally solitary creatures multiplying into a swarm, cutting off their escape. Hope began to fade. Blades and blaster bolts went right through these hideous specters, but their cold, soul-rending talons did not extend mortal flesh the same courtesy.

The creatures began to scream, and the world shook.

But just as The Mongrel thought his very brain would burst, and that the Forest of Broken Glass would crumble to lethal shards all around them, the Omen screamed back. The wraiths staggered in midair, their corpse-like faces hanging open in shocked rage. In that moment, the long lost Barran leapt into their midst. And somehow, he could touch them. The Mongrel watched, frozen in disbelief, as the Shriven One waded in alongside Superious, shattering ghostly forms with unarmed blows, causing carnage among the ranks of the damned.

Go! I'll be right behind you here! Mercy's words jerked him from his trance, allowing him to focus once more. With two of them facing down the ghosts, Superious and the Shriven One alike, perhaps they stood a chance against the unnatural legion. But whatever the case, this was not a fight that The Mongrel or his scattered troops could even contribute to; their only goal now was to survive. "With me!" he commanded, falling back toward the dropship. "Let the witch battle of prophecy play out! Our role in it is ended."

But as The Mongrel gathered the last of his warriors, counting them as they headed back toward the dropship, he came up one short... and it was the one he least wanted to lose. "Mercy!" he called out, scanning the desolate plain, gazing between the jagged pillars of sharp crystal. "Where are you?" He began to realize what had happened; she had led some of his pursuers away, risking her life to protect his. Well, he could not allow that. His existence was a bleak eternity without her, without the gifts she could bring in his mind.

He would not leave her. He went back in.

 

[Keilara Kala'myr]

Ziare Dyarron | Keilara Kala'myr (Mercy)
COMPNOR (ISB) Junior Agent, Nite agent | Marauder and Agent of the Maw​

Objective I.: Reporting for duty.
Location: Durace, Forest of Broken Glass
Equipment: 2x PV-16 "Sunfury" Pulse Pistol | Viper Mk. I Skinsuit | 2x Vibrodagger || OPBC-01m
Writing With: The Mongrel | Thomas Barran | Erion Justeene

[ Steel Commanders ]
"Galactic Basic" | ~"Telepathic" communication ~ | << comm. channel >> ​

As I walked away, I could even hear the warlord's voice saying they were doing the same, and the sensors were signalling that they were moving. Then I lost track because I got out of the 100-metres area and was no longer within coverage. If I had armour on me, that is, normal armour, I would have been able to follow their tracks much longer, but not so. And I had two uncomfortable companions who came after me. As I took a closer look at them, they were familiar from some legends, but I wasn’t sure.

While running, rushing, I heard a cracking sound beneath my feet as the dry branches of the trees cracked, the stones rolled away, sometimes my feet sinking into the mud in a muddy place. It was uncomfortable, mainly because my two pursuers were moving much faster and easier than I was. It didn’t help that I soon suffocated in the dusty air. Now I really felt like I wasn’t well yet, but my injuries were holding me back. My whole body started to hurt, especially around my kidneys, where the organ was also damaged.

I had been running for minutes, then paused for a moment when I heard a voice in the distance as if someone were shouting my name. Warlord? I didn’t have time to think or shout because the two of them got closer due to this momentary mistake. I started running again and then a few metres later a strong pain ripped through my mind. Just like on Dromund Kaas. The pain distracted me, causing me to stumble and fall to the ground.

I felt the pain again; they tried some kind of attack, but my mind still was able to withstand it. However, this is how the first, sharp pain ripped into my side as they scratched me with their clawed hand and left deep wounds on me. I screamed loudly in pain, but they had a physical body for now, I was able to kick them and push them away, and keep running. My side was bleeding, it wasn’t fatal, just a painful injury.

About a minute later, a crystal wall blocked my path, there was nowhere to run any further. It took me two moments to realise it wasn’t really just a crystal wall, it was some kind of ruined building as well. And my two opponents were already there on both sides, that is, opposite and in the side direction I could have gone. My back hit the wall as I stepped back. I snarled at them angrily.

Another attack on my mind and now they have broken through my defences. I felt the fear they caused, but there was nowhere to run. With my back, I could still feel the wall as they got closer. Because of the fear and closeness they generated, I screamed again. Even though I thought this was pathetic, but I couldn’t control it. The two beings paused in confusion; it was then that I realised that I was not only screaming loudly, but in my mind as well, like I did on Dromund Kaas.

One did not move, but I felt an invisible squeezing on my throat and some telekinetic force nailed me to the wall, the pistols fell out of my hand, and the other got there, hovering, splitting into my mind again pain and to my side as their clawed hand sank into my flesh, then they were preparing for a final attack, in the direction of my throat, as the invisible hand tried to squeeze more and more and my head throbbed non-stop.

I screamed again as best I could for at least ten to fifteen seconds…

The attack never hit my throat, I screamed loudly and telepathically at the same time. I saw the two creatures finally seem to burst into smoke and disappear. The force clenching my throat was gone, my headache became better. My throat ached, as did both parts of my side, but I was free. I fell to my knees tired and exhausted, panting loudly. No other creatures appeared.

I think it was over and I survived and defended the Warlord too... and blood dripped from my nose to the ground, overwhelming my telepathic abilities. Again.

 

[Tu'teggacha]

Location: Durace, Pictograph Caverns
Tags: Open

Spoiler: TL;DR

• Tu'teggacha's slaves uncover the ancient city

Deep within the pictograph caverns of the planet's equator, Taskmaster Tu'teggacha remained blissfully ignorant of the turmoil on the surface. Beneath the ashen ground there were no flensing winds or screaming wraiths. Instead the Taskmaster was surrounded by the grinding hum of colossal drills, the distant boom of mining explosives detonating in controlled bursts, and the soft, oddly regular fluttering of the Drudges' breathing. They breathed as one, the genetically-engineered thralls so utterly bound to the will of the Brotherhood that even their respiration was controlled. There was no fear here, only anticipation.

Anticipation of the great and terrible treasures soon to be uncovered.

Even the thought of all the captives who would soon be brought before him, prisoners dragged from Outpost 17 to be broken and reshaped into servants of the Maw, did not excite the Ebruchi quite so much as the promise of these long-lost ruins. The ancient Jedi and the various explorers who had followed in their wake had never dared to delve so deeply, concerned that digging into the caves might destroy the only surviving records of a lost culture. Weaklings and fools, wringing their hands when Truth and Power lay buried scant meters away. Beneath the devastated surface lay one of the great secrets of the Unknown Regions.

And when Tu'teggacha uncovered it, it would belong to the Maw.

Suddenly, a booming crash echoed through the caverns, followed immediately by howls of agony. The Taskmaster turned toward the noise, less concerned about the pained cries than what the rockfall might portend. He hobbled as quickly as he could up the tunnel, his hunched form wobbling from side to side with each step, the hems of his black robes becoming caked in chalky gray dust. Though the caverns were vast, and the Mawites had begun drilling in several different passages, it did not take him long to locate the source of the disturbance. One of the laser drills had suddenly bored through a wall, bringing the whole of it down.

Of course, there had been slaves working on that wall at the time, weakening it with vibro-mattocks and carting away debris. Many of them now lay half-buried in the rock and gravel, bright spots of blood marking where they had been battered and broken by the collapse. The captives groaned or wailed, their bones shattered, their organs pierced. The Drudges paid their injuries no mind at all; they were too simple to even recognize that they had suffered wounds, their weak minds filled with nothing but obedience. Both might have been saved with swift medical attention, patched up so that they could serve another day.

Tu'teggacha simply stepped over them, paying them no heed at all.

It was the cavern beyond that captured his attention, its reflection glittering in his glossy black eyes. For the cave was not dark; strange veins of greenish luminescence ran through the walls of rock, casting a weird, pulsating glow over the scene. And the things that glow illuminated! Vast cyclopean ruins rose out of the cavern floor, bumpy and irregular, meeting at strange angles. The stone itself was clearly not native; it seemed almost moist, reflecting the greenish glow with a multicolored aura that resembled a sheen of oil on water. The flickering, flowing light gave the impression that the whole city was slowly shifting...

... or perhaps breathing, like some colossal beast laid down to sleep.

Was this where the first worshippers of the Maw, the civilization that predated the rise of the Dark Voice by untold millennia, had made their homes? Was this the origin point of a religion that had now struck deep into the heart of the galaxy, finally enacting its prophecies by force? And if it was, could it be true that the legendary Fount of Rebirth lay here, buried in the ancient temple of the Dark Three? "Cease the other digs," Tu'teggacha commanded into his comlink. "They are irrelevant now. Bring all the workers here. We must possess everything that remains in this place." The treasures of the ancient Maw would be theirs.

 

[Erion Justeene]

Objective I: Survive and get a wee bit of a surprise too!
Location: Durace, The Forest of Broken Glass
Equipment: Lightsaber, Voidsaber
Tags: The Mongrel | Thomas Barran | Keilara Kala'myr

The skies ripped open with a mighty streak of lightning that raced from above. There is a storm, angrier than the many smaller ones before it. It was something to do with these horrors, he knew it and he knew that those here knew it too. He's going to have an interesting time making sense of this incident if he gets out of this one.

So, there were more of them, they certainly know their multiplication tables, which meant he needed to be counted and planned for. But the force seemed to have kept them from skewering him like a kebab, but he had managed to wriggle free. Superious needed something to at least give him space to at least think tactically.

His hair started to get extremely fluffy under his helmet, which means lightning was gearing to hit at any moment. He could use the force to pull it in and direct it like a lightning rod and hit one of them with it or pull them into the incoming pulse of pure lightning. Decisions, decisions.

Those talons became increasingly worrisome as they got closer to his torso, he'll need to mend the tears already rendered into his clothing. Looking back behind him to check for any unwelcomed Wraith related surprises. He turned back and moved backwards, grabbing onto the force and letting the bolt pass through his body and converting it into force lightning, hitting a large enough number of the Wraiths.

He hated doing that, his clothes smoked, and his skin burnt red from what he just did, but at least he was able to use the VoidSaber to deadly effect, causing damage without any real obvious burn wounds on a few of the Wraith that got too close. A simple mission turned into a supernatural mess of giant proportions.

A pair of talons grabbed him by the scruff and dug in as they pinched his skin, so far he wasn't hoisted up into the air, this means he can force free himself with his Saber and pull himself to the ground with Force Pull. It worked but it ruined a perfectly good set of clothes and left a large wound on his upper back.

There was so much adrenalin that he didn't notice that a swarm of the Wraiths had begun to circle him like hornets, they were going into a dive to tear him asunder and as they were bearing down talons glinting, Superious was pulled from behind sharply and was now being dragged off away from the angry swarms.

He tried to get a look at who was dragging him along. He wasn't angry, just confused and curious.

 

[Thomas Barran]

7th post

Thomas Barran
"The Shriven One"

Objective 3: BYOO
Tags: The Mongrel Keilara Kala'myr Khaostra Devoid Erion Justeene

THE LIVING ARTIFACT: REANIMATION OF A FIRSTBORN - PART SEVEN

Durace (Summer of 870 ABY)

While the others doubled back to safety, the dropship's pilots would make a point of going around the storm to find the Scar Hounds somewhere on their way to the other side, finding them moving southwards to escape the sheer volume of nasty spirits and monsters bursting forth from within it, moving uphill to safety as the powers who aided them fought on bravely, so much so that time and space to move freely was being bought with every second that passed. These braves were more than helpful in these moments, not only in the attempt to keep the Scar Hounds safe from untimely harm, and not only in the attempt to keep their Warlord alive to fight another day also; they were, more specifically, fighting for something other than their own survival, fighting for the sake of everyone there.

One may have even gone so far as to perceive this action as valorous, perhaps even.... Heroic.

'PRIDE YOU ARE PERMITTED TO FEEL - FOR IT KNOWS NO MORALS OR THE LACK THEREOF!!!!BETWEEN THE FAITHFUL AND THE UNHOLY THOSE ATTRIBUTE IT TO, PRIDE DISCERNS NOT!!!!'

Some would struggle eventually, but in remaining aware of their godlike efforts until that moment, the voice within Thomas would then decide to herself that the right moment to order their retreat was nigh at hand, and that the order would be given before it was too late for any one of the Mawite champions still standing to defend the Scar Hounds' retreat. The young warrior with the bloodened-red lightsabre would be the last of the voice's allies to be sent back, as the only one who had not been pushed onto the back foot besides herself was in fact the one she would send back last, hearing the steadiness of his heartbeat sustaining, even after the others broke off and ran towards the Mongrel's dropship. This was no ordinary warrior, this was a being far more powerful than that, and in this realisation, the voice found herself feeling unexpectedly glad of it - unexpectedly reassured by the fact an aspect of darkness was aiding her without complaint.

Leave us, you should live to fight and die another day.​

'SO KEEP FIGHTING, YOUNG ONE!!!! STRENGTH REMAINS WITHIN YOU STILL, I CAN FEEL IT!!!!'

One thing that neither Superious or the voice expected, and not even for a moment, was the fact that sending the others back would mean they no longer had anything hindering their mutual urge to unleash their true power on the monsters of the Nether. Nothing was getting in the way of whatever spilled out of the souls of the two powers in reaction to whatever was spilling out of the dimensional rift at the time, though only for as long as they were fighting the wraiths that rushed ahead of the other monsters further off in the distance, and when they eventually broke and routed back northwards, the Sith and the Deity would be left with a choice; to turn back, or to find another way home, and after watching the Scar Hounds' ship roaring back into the cloudy skies above, the latter option then began to seem all too grim a prospect for either entities to bear.

But the mutated Starweirds weren't finished yet, hurling everything they were into one last rush en-masse at the duo who were ripping and tearing through their ranks with such ease, and reeling from their loss of momentum as soon as the young warrior hurled a Force-push in their direction, one strong enough that it could be seen actually bouncing off the front line of the Wraith's last coordinated attack. Handy, as it was only in this moment that the voice possessing Thomas saw that Superious had been wounded in the fight, thinking it unnecessary to check when the warrior's heartrate was still as calm as ever, and still every part as calm and meditative as ever at the time he was struck by one of the wraiths, seemingly the only detriment to remaining so calm under duress at the time. Then, in the moments after the voice processed their predicament properly, she realised that this was their moment to attempt an escape of their own, and though it embittered the voice to consider retreating, she was steadily making peace with the fact that the other option was surely suicidal by that point of the fight.

If Superious had not been wounded in the process, the Deity may have given the other option more consideration, but in seeing the wound with her own black eyes, the voice knew there was nothing else they could do but try their utmost to survive the encounter - even if it meant going against their fighting urges so they could retreat to the safety of the dropship.

'My apologies for this, but I know you have a future beyond this place.'

Snatching the young warrior's cloak beneath the hood, the Deity would dig Thomas' heels in and sprint with a pace the Shriven One had never known, practically dragging the Darth behind her until Barran's unconscious body began to pick up speed with frightening intensity, heading straight for the ship at the summit of the hill they'd been fighting on at the time as the starweirds tried their utmost to keep up with their prey. If it had been any other entity in control of the Shriven One's body at the time, if any other power had been resonating from within the unconscious Goidel's soul at the time, the Deity within Thomas was quite certain that neither would have survived the retreat, perspective of which was providing the very fearfulness that spurred the voice to run even faster. They were drawing closer to the ship, and the off-ramp was still open, their way to safety was still open to them, but the dropship itself was hovering in it's early process of taking off.

No matter, I jump - and I will jump like the air itself is guiding me to salvation.​

'Almost there! If you can trust in me a little longer, I will get us to safety! HOLD ON!!!!'

And then, after another ten paces or so, the voice dug the Shriven One's feet into the black gravel of the hill's summit, bending knees with poise before pushing off the ground to careen into the skies above with sling-shot intensity. It was enough to escape the wraiths and the monsters of the rift, and as luck would've had it, the vaulting jump of last-second desperation was enough to send both the Shriven One and Darth Superious barelling past the off-ramp and into the back-wall of the loading bay beyond; and with a crashing clamour, the last two Mawites to retreat were finally safe, despite the pain and discomfort Superious would be experiencing as a combined result of the wound and the landing alike. Turning over to find the young Darth unfazed in mind and maintaining the same steady heartrate as ever, the Deity controlling Thomas would groan,'You and I - will meet again someday. The one I control won't know until he is told, but it would be wise to tell of this day when you see this face again.', as she attempted to get the unconscious Woad standing upright again.

'The eyes will tell you which one stands with you at the time - and if the eyes are not black as they are now, you speak not with the one who saved you. Tell the Warlord his Shriven One is free of my embrace for now.... Until the next crucible, young warrior.'

And with a fearsome, feminine laugh of pure malice, the voice within the Woad winked with a wild sneer before finally letting the Shriven One's eyelids close over, letting the unconscious Barran drop to the floor with a sickening thud as the skull of the Mongrel's new champion made full-weighted contact with the durasteel floor-sheeting both individuals were standing on at the time. Most would be left in a comatose state after such an impact, but the Shriven One had proven capable of bearing the unbearable multiple times that night already, stirring with a groan on the floor as some of the Scar Hounds were beginning to make for the loading-bay, stepping through the door as the Woad fell back into his unconscious stupor again, likely to be out cold for days as opposed to weeks - despite all that the Woad's Rebirth had inflicted upon him already.

Thomas was alive, safe, and in wise hands, finally, and for the time being. Many threats would lurk in the dark where he went, but none were to be concerned with anything of the likes just yet, time was theirs to use, to learn who (and what) their living artefact was at the very deepest depth of his soul.

 

[The Mongrel]

Location: Durace, Forest of Broken Glass
Tags: Thomas Barran | Keilara Kala'myr | Erion Justeene

Spoiler: TL;DR

• The Mongrel finds Mercy
• He attempts to help her get back to the shuttle

The Mongrel did not fear for the success of his mission. He knew that his warriors would be equal to the task of bringing the Shiven One, the objective they had not even known they were seeking, to safety. He trusted that the mysterious Sith who had followed them here would be equal to the task of holding back the spirits that had poured out of the rift, spilling over the desiccated surface of this half-dead world. He had witnessed the power of both men, sorcerous power that could touch the Netherworld in a way no ordinary man could.

Instead he feared for Mercy, and for himself.

His own death had long since ceased to worry him. In fact, he had longed for it for years now, ready to pass from this broken galaxy. He wanted his emptiness to end, to be reborn by the grace of the Avatars into a form not isolated by the oppressive void in which is disembodied mind hung suspended, powering a war engine that could not feel. But death was not the only relief from that emptiness anymore. With Mercy, the warlord did not have to put his faith in the future gifts of the gods. He could escape the void here and now.

If she died, if he lost her, that escape was gone.

Did he care for her, or only for what she could do for him? At this point, even The Mongrel himself was not sure. Was she lover or tool, partner or slave? In that moment it did not matter. He would find her, and he would bring her away from this place. He had to, or the only relief for him would be in martyrdom, and he had begun to fear he would go mad waiting for the day when the Maw would allow him to die. So he tore off through the desolate terrain, past crumbling spires of jagged crystal, through pits of mud and ash and dust.

To find her before it was too late, for her and for him.

Again he shouted her name. "Mercy!" His voice, cold and mechanical, was incapable of showing care or concern or fear; those emotions remained locked in his ruined brain, pumping through neurons and circuits alike, giving him adrenaline that had no place to go. There was no reply to his shout... but a moment later, his powerful auditory sensors picked up a scream, and he knew it was her. "Dark Three, hasten my feet," the warlord prayed, and wondered if they would answer. After all, Mercy helped him to preempt their reward.

But surely, after ten years, he had earned this small favor?

The Mongrel found her slumped against a vast wall of smoky crystal, wounded and bleeding but alone. He rushed to her, his ocular scanners taking in the injuries she had suffered. She was in pain, suffering from many cuts and impacts, but none of the wounds looked like they would be fatal. What had happened? The warlord doubted that the hideous wraiths would have given up when they had her cornered, and no ordinary weapons seemed to hurt them. Indeed, Mercy's pistols had flown from her hands, and lay some distance away.

Did Mercy possess more talent for sorcery than he knew?

In that moment, it did not matter. The Mongrel didn't care how Mercy had saved herself, only that she was safe... and they were only safe for the moment. No doubt more wraiths, and the strange predators of this broken world, would be attracted to the smell of blood. "You will live," he told her, and again his mechanical voice could not properly convey the relief and gratitude he felt as he spoke those words. He had not felt this way about anyone since the day he had been reborn into the Maw, stripped of compassion and empathy and love.

He was changing, and even he didn't know where it would lead.

Offering Mercy a powerful metal arm, he helped her back to her feet. He would carry her if he needed to, but he didn't want her to look weak in front of his warriors - that would be dangerous for both of them. "We must make it back to the shuttle," he told her, scooping up the pistols she had dropped when she fell and returning them to her. "Then we can begone from this Avatars-cursed wasteland." He drew his warblade in the hand that was not supporting her, for all the good it would do. He was helpless against Nether beasts.

But he would do whatever it took to get them both home.

 

[Keilara Kala'myr]

Ziare Dyarron | Keilara Kala'myr (Mercy)
COMPNOR (ISB) Junior Agent, Nite agent | Marauder and Agent of the Maw​

Objective I.: Reporting for duty.
Location: Durace, Forest of Broken Glass
Equipment: 2x PV-16 "Sunfury" Pulse Pistol | Viper Mk. I Skinsuit | 2x Vibrodagger || OPBC-01m
Writing With: The Mongrel | Thomas Barran | Erion Justeene

[ Steel Commanders ]
"Galactic Basic" | ~"Telepathic" communication ~ | << comm. channel >> ​

I have no idea how much time has passed, I was still kneeling on the floor, my back leaning against the wall. I was pretty sure I would fall asleep from fatigue before I walk away or I'll be able to get up from the ground. Yes, a sleep and a hot bath would definitely have gone well. Not in that order, the bath is first, sleep is second. And a massage would have made the end of the day perfect. And if I don’t see more of these creatures and I get a big dose of painkillers. Yes, they were also somehow in the top spot in the present moment's wish list.

I heard the severe footsteps echoing on the walls and on dead crystal growths before my sensor signalled that someone was approaching. These were certainly not beings; they weren't indicated by the sensors. However, I no longer had the strength to shout to the person approaching that I was here. As I recalled the team who were with the warlord to figure out who can be the person who was approaching me; I got only one result. It was him, the warlord.

There was no other in such powerful armour that made such a sound. And a few moments later, I really saw him. I was still gasping for air, not only because of the pain, but also from the exhaustion.

"I know there is a medical scanner in the biochip in my head as well. I know the exact extent of the injuries as well. They hurt more than they are dangerous." I smiled involuntarily. "This is the second time you've come after me to save me."

I laughed softly the next moment, maybe I’ve never laughed like that before; not as if I had a chance.

"I like the way you behave like Prince Charm. It is flattering to honour me with your attention!" despite the pain, I was able to even have a sincere smile as I looked up at him.

Was he like that behind the Warlord mask, a caring man? Or did he just not want to give up the tactical advantage that my work had for him? Does not matter; I accepted the outstretched hand as he helped me stand up. As I put my hand in my hand, my heart started beating harder. Damn it! That move was so gentle from him too, feth! He is one of the most formidable warlords in the galaxy. I nodded at his words, yes, it would have been nice to finally get out of this damn place, while I took back the pistols and put them in their holsters.

"I hope we don’t meet more of these creatures; I don’t really think I would have the strength to do more “telepathic screams” against them. I did the same on Dromund Kaas against the Eternal Imperials but I didn't have strength to kill them all… now these two, they were strong… but I don’t think I would have more strength. And my head hurts a lot, I used my powers too much… and I repeat myself." it was not a complaint, just a fact; while I said I wiped the blood that was leaking from my nose.

He didn’t have to carry me, I could go on my own two feet, luckily; true because of my pain I wasn’t the fastest and I couldn’t even run. Although, if my life depended on it, it would have succeeded. But it wasn't needed now. However, I was able to walk at an average pace, but not for a quick, strenuous military march. And soon we got back to the place where the dropships were without any problems. However, before we could reach the part where the members of the tribe could see us, I gently grabbed his arm for a moment to stop him.

"Forgive me, warlord. But I have one more question before we get back." in my voice it was the usual respect, after all, he was my commanding officer and I was not only his agent but also his slave. He could even kill me because I touched him without his permission, but unfortunately, I didn’t have any strength to ask him telepathically, at this moment I don’t. "I feel like something has changed since what happened aboard the Triumph… between us. I think this is supported by your reaction when I greeted you here… do I have reason to hope for anything, or have I just misinterpreted the signs?"

Which would not be too surprising in light of the fact that I have to rely on Ziare’s non-existent experiences…

 

[Erion Justeene]

​

Objective I: Fight back!
Location: Durace, The Forest of Broken Glass
Equipment: Lightsaber, Voidsaber
Tags: The Mongrel | Thomas Barran | Keilara Kala'myr

Superious was on the ship and out of the frenzied Wraith Swarm that had wanted to make flesh confetti out of him, but he was also out of the game. So now he has to figure out where to go next, will he just stay out of the fray or go aim another blast of lightning and drive the horrors away?

This opens another question if Thomas was here, then where are the other two? That's what he wanted to know. So he left the prone form of Thomas be and headed to the pilots to order them to circle low to the ground and Look for Mongrel and Mercy. He'll force push any Wraiths that came too near.

He originally wanted to come here to inspect the planet as a curiosity, but then ended up indirectly waking up the angry Landlords for his troubles. He needs to get them to leave just in case the other two are down there. He is still burning from his previous redirection of lightning, he knows the fabric is beginning to stick to the burn marks. No point worrying about it. New objectives are needed. As he can only hold them at several arms lengths away and keep everything from becoming an ever bigger rout than it was already.

Another barrage of Lightning erupted from his fingers, driving the beastly eldritch horrors back as far as he can, grabbing the door edge as the ship lurched as another swooped at them, he was nearly pitched out from the ship as they evaded and dodged.

As soon as they were able to breathe again, Superious expanded his presence in the force, taking different paths to find the two that are missing. Ignoring dead ends and digging down into strands of force presence. Hm, they seem to have arrived back at the ship themselves without much help, Mongrel was after all an experienced warrior after all. One of whom is exhausted, he reckoned that was the one known as Mercy.

The wound in his back painfully made its presence known and he directed the pilots to make it quickly off-planet or they will be dinner for the Wraiths. Even he knew prolonging a fight is very unsound strategically.

That did not stop him from producing a large amount of Force lightning from both hands to drive the Wraiths away.