Private &nbsp; Thriller Night

Beltran Rarr · Nov 2, 2020

Following the events surrounding the battle at Nar Kreeta, Beltran had taken a leave of absence from the Antarian Rangers. He had done this for a few reasons. First, he needed a rest. The wars between the Silver Jedi Concord and the Sith Empire had flared up to a point where three major battles had occurred between the two powers in as many weeks. They had been victorious at Voss, but had been forced to retreat from Mykyr. Then the Bryn'adul had decided to stage a new offensive on Nar Kreeta.

The death toll had mounted, with multiple worlds and several billion souls having been devastated. There had been a time, not so long ago, that Beltran would have relished the carnage of war on this scale. But lately, he just felt tired. He was proud of the work he and his men had done, but he needed to take a little time to get his head back in the game.

So he had left Kashyyyk on the Imperialis, barely a day after his return from his mission with Laertia Io. His goal? See a little more of the galaxy, hone his Force talents and continue his training and generally just not be a Ranger for a few weeks. So what had brought him to Vandalhelm specifically? Well, if you knew anything about the Imperialis, you could take a guess.

Engine trouble.

That's right. The hyperdrive had malfunctioned again, diverting him from his original destination and popping him out right in the middle of the Confederacy of Independent Systems. It was perhaps serendipity, or perhaps the will of the Force, that the system had it's very own set of shipyards.

"I need this fething ship fixed," He'd told one of the dockmasters as he'd docked. "I don't care how much it costs. I need the entire power distribution system overhauled, the navigation matrix retuned and the fething hyperdrive motivator replaced."

He knew it was a tall order, the ship being the better part of a thousand years old. But enough was enough. The dockmaster had been more than happy to take his credits, but had been....non-specific concerning how long it would take, so Beltran had decided to head down to the surface and book himself into a hotel.

Shipyard towns tended to be busy places, full of workers going to and from their shifts, markets, entertainment, gambling, organized crime and the other usual things that followed blue collar industry. As Beltran walked, he was able to spot most, if not all of these things, but not in the quantity that he'd expected. The town had a strange, almost subdued feeling to it and he could feel an undercurrent of fear.

It had a similar feelings to worlds that were on the verge of invasion, but Vandalhelm was deep inside CIS territory. More or less as safe as safe got in this galaxy. He spotted a pair of police constables leaning against a pair of speeder bikes. They had been in conversation over some piece of paperwork when suddenly they stopped talking and stared right at Beltran.

Neither being said anything as the Lorrdian walked passed, but he could feel their eyes on him for a long while after he'd moved beyond them.

Upon checking in at his hotel, Beltran finally heard the news of the double murder that had occurred the night before. It had come from the, highly dramatic Twi'lek concierge who Beltran suspected was only a year or two out of her teens. Murders happened all the time, all over the place. Hell, murder had once been Beltran's stock and trade.

But brain removal? That was new.

Perhaps once he had finished getting settled, he might mosey on over to the scene and see what he could see. You know, to pass the time.

Gnoll · Nov 2, 2020

Gnoll was not an investigator. Nor was he a jedi shadow who would be more skilled in maters of such complexity. In truth, normally, such a story would be beyond his talents. Yet he felt called regardless. The massive being came in on his personal-ship more suited to such a species of his size. And he paid for the landing fee for a week. It may take longer, it may take less time. But the payment was payment.

His lightsabers were both latched to himself, by his own bark and vines around his sides. More out of a reminder to his Jedi self than it was out of necessity. He could as easily latch them to his arms. But they were also more out of sight where they were now. And then he began to walk. Though he seemed to move slowly, the long steps of the creature meant he was traveling quite fast.

He was after the local law enforcement offices, he had services to offer. If he was allowed in, or should the building be too small for a 4.3 meter (14 foot tall) plant man to enter, he would speak to someone. Bowing his head as he spoke in a slow and deep voice, "Mmm I am Gnoll Barr, a Jedi Knight. I have heard of your murders, and I am willing to help. If you will allow me. I speak of the one who removes brains of his victims with precision." when he was done, he would simply stand, and wait.

Gnoll already had a number of potential possibilities. Some more clearer and easier to track than others. Anzati were a possibility, though they rarely removed the brain, simply sucked it out. But it was possible one had lost its proboscis. Even if it wasn't an anzat, it could still be related to the force. Either through a ritualistic purpose, or perhaps the individuals were force sensitive, in which case the possibilities were widened.

Regardless, he made no certain judgement. He would have to observe. Look at all the information, and then proceed. As sad as it was, it was unlikely he would discover the reason before another died. At least he believed this to be the case. Investigations could be time consuming even for those who moved much faster than he did.

Ravenous

Ishani Dinn · Nov 3, 2020

OOC: After reading everybody else's posts, I decided to use a different character of mine. Hope that's okay!

***

Through a series of incidents and coincidences both banal and contrived, Bithia found herself on Vandelhelm, an obscure old mining planet in CIS space. The first rumor to reach her ears upon consulting the locals involved a string of murders.

Now, murders occurred on virtually every planet in the galaxy, on any given day, with an alarming increase in frequency as of late. But the method of this murder—complete brain removal—was curious indeed.

“Could it be an Anzati?” she wondered aloud, her intuition following the same logical route as

Gnoll . “They consume brains.”

“It wasn’t like that,” the concierge replied. “The brain was removed surgically. With a scalpel. Fully intact.”

Bithia raised an eyebrow. “A scalpel by itself would be a very inefficient way to remove a brain. Could’ve at least used a bone saw as well.”

“I don’t know the exact details, I’m just repeating what I heard here at work.” The man hefted her luggage into her room. “I’m telling you because you seem nice enough, and I wouldn’t want to see you get into trouble. If you ask me, you picked a bad time to visit Vandelhelm.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that. And I’m sure I can take care of myself.” Handing him a tip, she tilted her head to the side and smiled. “Say, how would you like to have a drink some time? Or coffee, if you’d rather…”

“Well, uh… my shift ends soon…” Blushing, he checked his chrono. “Tell you what. I’ll meet you in the hotel bar in fifteen minutes. Is that all right?”

“Sure. I’ll be there.” Bithia picked up her bag and set it on the bed, waiting until the door closed behind the concierge before opening it. Inside were various articles of clothing, shoes, jewelry, fake IDs, passports, citizenship papers for all major factions, armor and weapons. She sighed and stashed the contraband in the closet, hanging up a few long gowns to hide it behind.

Downstairs in the hotel bar, she found the man waiting. They had a drink, as planned, though Bithia could taste nothing of the alcohol she’d ordered. Within a few minutes, the two of them left, heading for a supply closet, of all places. Bithia made sure nobody was watching them before she closed the door, sealing them inside.

When she emerged a few minutes later, she was alone. The young concierge stood paralyzed amid the cleaning supplies, two puncture wounds on his neck. He would have no memory of the encounter, or of the entire past day’s happenings—she had eaten those memories.

Bithia returned to her room and turned on the holo while she rummaged through her luggage. Local news networks were still talking about the homicides. She checked the rounds on the pistol Ayreon had loaned her and sighed. Might as well look into it while she was stuck here.

Sy' Lanat · Nov 3, 2020

"Well... Blast." Sy' muttered to himself as he rubbed a gloved finger in an empty groove in the partially disassembled rifle. It had been a long day and he was coming to the end of his proverbial rope. "Let's see." His right hand moved lithely from the within the rifle to the parts scattered over the bar table. "Lens. Focus le-ens. Where you at?" His voice taking on a sing-song tone as he called to his missing piece.

"Flash cone, Heat sink, and... Tumble pins. Not helpful." Swiping his hand gently, it came to rest with a small flourish on his mug of Chadian Rum. Lifting the mug gently to his lips he sipped, then deciding against better judgement, he took a long swig, one eye busily roving over the table for the part.

Lowering the mug in one elegant and practised movement, the cup returned to its condensation circle and the hand whipped back to his mouth to catch any of the droplets that might be trying to travel down his chin. As it turned out, there were none and the Chiss sat there a moment, growing more annoyed as he found his efforts frustrated. "Let's start again. I pulled out this..." He moved quickly, touching each part as he spoke to himself.

After a moment it seemed he had wasted his time, the parts were all there, except for the focusing lens. Sy' sat for a moment, considering his situation. "All part of a blasted game."

The diminutive near-human had arrived on Vandelhelm as part of a mental exercise. He was 'losing his edge' according to some of the kids in the Deep Core and Sy' had decided to take their condescending demeanours as a warning he should leave the mercenary scene for a while in that sector. He had decided to travel to a random world and make a name for himself totally anew, just to prove those silly, boot-licking mercs that this guy was not losing anything. Well, except his arm. And his return ticket pad. And now the focusing lens... Geeze, maybe I am losing something.

Not trusting himself to select the random planet, he had made some poor choices in the past, he had elected to allow a child at the local carecenter to unwittingly select it for him. Now he was here, on a planet that barely supported mining and shipyards. It was only marginally better than the city planets he had left behind. At least here he had some breathing room. Within hours of coming here he had managed to meet with some of the local underworld elements and had made a friendly wager, and by friendly, they meant near life threatening. He was to mark one of the upperclass individuals connected with the slave trading ring and tag him with a long range shot. It was a bit crazy, and honestly Sy' remembered very little of it.

It hadn't taken ten minutes in the luxury sector locate such an individual, he had all the usual signs. Then, knowing he had time to plan the shot and work out exactly what he would do, the Chiss had taken to the bar to double check his weapon and get some liquid courage.

And now he sat with a lens missing and still no plan. "Hmm..." He rubbed his temple, as the bar owner arrived.

"I told you, no weapons on the tables."

Sy' dismissively waved a hand, "Hmph, busy. Go bother someone else."

"Look pal. I don't want any trouble, but the sign clearly says no blasters in my bar."

The Chiss slammed his open palm on the table, rattling the parts and skittering the rifle towards him an inch. "Just give me a blasted mo-" Suddenly distracted by a gleaming piece in the corner of his eye, Sy' locked his face forward and his fingers drove madly to latch onto the piece of reflective material that had moments ago lain hidden under the rifle.

"So there you were. Why are they never in the places you look?" Smiling to himself he pushed the piece firmly into place and continued reassembling the rifle. The owner seemed taken aback for a moment.

Hesitantly, he pressured, "Alright, it is time to go."

The Chiss barely noticed as he slid the covering into place and raised the rifle to look down the lines. "Everything straight... clean ports... an-nd good to go. Sorry what were you saying?" He suddenly turned his attention to the now very concerned looking human.

"Um. You've got to go. I don't want any trouble." He raised a meaty arm. "But if you don't leave on your own, I've make you leave on you backside."

Ah, a challenge. Sy' stood rather solumnly, placing the rifle squarely on the table. He drew the cup to his mouth and in one long swallow finished his drink. Firmly placing the glass on the table he replied, "Let's go then."

Taking a step back the owner stammered, "I don't want to hurt you pal. Two arms against one, I think you'd better not start anything."

"Don't worry." You won't. Stepping in with a quick movemet, he jabbed into the mans lower ribs. His leg struck forward and knocked a leg out from under him and Sy' stepped back. The owner fell to his knees with a gasp, and his eyes darted to the door.

Following his gaze, Sy' raised his hands as two uniformed officers stepped in with batons raised.

----

A few minutes later Sy' sat in a small police waiting room, apparently, this particular station lacked a holding cell. Instead, he was cuffed, one on his arm and the other on the bolted chair, and an officer sat opposite him with a pistol trained. Sy' was fuming, at himself primarily. He mumbled to himself discontentedly, "This is ridiculous, I'll need to get my rifle, get out of this place, and still figure some time to make this plan."

There was some commotion outside and Sy' strained his neck to see out of the cublicle to get some idea of what was going on out there. For his part, the officer remained calm and focused on the Chiss prisoner. Gotta respect a man who doesn't get distracted on the job.

There was a deep voice or something, resonating into the building, so Sy' had little difficulty hearing and understanding what it said. "Murders? Not too new. But removing brains eh? I mean, that's a bit messed up. Maybe its personal?" Sy' would never disembowel his targets. Not unless his shot went wide and opened an unintentional hole in them or something, but that was more of an exception rather than a rule.

A thought came to mind and he spoke rather nonchalantly to the officer. "Hey, if I help with solve this murder thing, can we just let this mistep on my part slide?" The man remained stiff lipped and the Chiss sat back. He tried to rub his chin, forgetting his arm was stuck a good two feet from his face. Finding it impossible to continue with that action he decided to continue to persuade the officer. "Look, I've got what some would call experience in the field. I'm not new to crime scenes and where I come from I happen to be an expert in odd or unexplained cases. There was this one time on Fresia..." And so he dove into a somewhat altered version of one of his previous assassinations. He was not the murderer of course, in his telling, but rather a merc contracted to help solve the case. Hey, maybe murder could help him out after all.

Ravenous

Ravenous · Nov 3, 2020

Amazement plastered on their faces Police, staff and even arrestees watched as a 14-foot plant crawled in through the front door that was clearly too small for his stature. His branch-like hair caressed the ceiling as he walked (or rather crouched) over towards the front desk a thick layer of glass between the magistrate and

Gnoll . The Magistrate took a long sip of coffee before speaking. "Can I help you?" She asked. A response was given in a deep low tone that sounded ancient and wise, typical of Jedi Knight's she figured. The Magistrate licked her fingers and began flipping through the pages on her clipboard before losing herself in the pages of a particular file."Well, we don't usually employ freelancers or Jedi but I suppose we already have one aberrant on the case so another couldn't hurt." The official pulled open a drawer and handed the earth like Titan an access card. "This will get you to the back where the Captain is giving a briefing on the case files. I'll warn you he's not known for his mellow temper." The Magistrate went back to her coffee her eyes wandering through the pages of her clipboard.

In the briefing room.

A green Nautolan vigorously ruffled through a box of thumbtacks the wall in front of him absolutely inundated with photos, news reports, and red tape. The tension was tangible enough to choke on as he angrily slammed his fist into the wall his investigation having reached an impasse. "Fifteen. He's killed Fifteen people and we haven't got a damn clue about what's going on!" The door to the briefing room flew open the sunlight from the outside world contrasting the dim lighting inside the room. An officer walked in his left hand clutching a holstered blaster as another officer brought in a Chiss handcuffed on one arm and missing the other one entirely. The two of them looked weary of the stranger but chose to bring him in regardless. "Seargent what is the meaning of this?!"

The pasty face corporal stood at attention while his associate pulled on the Chiss' restraints. "We took this one into custody earlier for assault charges. But he offered his services in exchange for a pardon. We surveyed his record and while we couldn't find much of an online presence we can verify his skill level." The Captain pinched his forehead and gestured towards a large plant-like being sitting in the corner of the room once it was discovered their chairs were inadequate for his size. "So we're just letting ANYONE who wants to help in here then? For Feth's sake..." The Captain grumbled something unintelligible under his breath. "FINE. Sit em...eh- over there somewhere just DON'T let him out of your sight! We'll start the meeting once everyone's here."

Ishani Dinn |

Sy' Lanat |

Gnoll |

Beltran Rarr · Nov 4, 2020

Beltran lowered himself over the side of the apartment building, his powerfully muscled arms rippling with the effort of keeping his small but very dense frame from falling. The entire building had been cordoned off by the local authorities and Beltran didn't trust his abilities enough to risk trying to influence that many beings into letting him pass.

So he was doing this the hard way. Once he felt secure, the Lorrdian stretched himself out as far as possible and let go. He used the Force to cushion his fall into the next floor's fire escape, limiting both the noise his landing made and the jolt of the impact on his knees. As he landed, it went into a crouch immediately and activated his personal cloaking field.

He would only keep the, rather unreliable, device on for a handful of seconds just to ensure nobody was looking directly up at him before switching it off. Then he would travel, slowly and quietly, down the fire-escape stairs to the floor where the victims' apartment was located. He wore a leather jacket over a pair of black non-descript military-style fatigues. He had his ballistic vest on over his torso, his lightsaber and comlink on his waist and his hand-cannon in a drop holster on his left side.

All in all, it was a lighter loadout than he usually carried but it would do in a pinch. In his jacket pocket, he had his portable HUD device folded up and his datapad. As he came to the correct floor, Beltran stopped at the corner apartment. Closing his eyes, he felt inside-looking to see if anyone was home. There didn't seem to be any presences inside so he turned his attention to the locking mechanism of the window. It was a simple enough slide lock, so it didn't take much to give it a telekinetic nudge and pull it open.

Gently, he raised the window. He then took out the screen, placing it inside and climbed in. Again, he went into a crouch and triggered his cloak for just a few seconds. In that time, he listened for any signs that the apartment was currently occupied and when he found none, he switched off the unit again. He then replaced the screen and slid the window closed and locked it. With any luck, the resident of this living space would never know that anyone had been inside.

Moving to the front door, he unlocked the dead-bolt. The door opened with a bit more of a squeak than Beltran would have liked, but as he looked down each of the hallways he felt some relief that nobody was there. Stepping out, he closed the door and used the Force to lock the dead-bolt once more. Now that he was inside, he adopted a completely different demeanor. As he walked down the hall, moving toward his goal, he did everything he could to look like he belonged there.

As he turned the corner, he came into contact with a pair of constables who were guarding the crime scene.

"Excuse me sir," One of them began. "You can't be he-"

"Is Johns back from the lab yet?" Beltran cut him off forcefully.

"W-who?"

"Johns! You know, from Special Investigations? J-O-H-N-S!!" Beltran effortlessly affected a tone of exasperation as he turned to the next Constable. "Stuck with the new guy, huh? What about you, you know whether Johns is back yet?"

"I-uhh, I don't kn-"

"Feth me sideways." Beltran continued, cutting the other man off now. "Alright, either you or him go down to the street and see if Johns is back. I'll be inside, taking a look around."

"W-wait a minute. I need to see some identi-"

"Here." Beltran flashed his datapad with a hastily put together, but official enough looking document baring the symbol of the local force's special investigations unit-which had been easy enough to find thanks to a locally set police-procedural holo-drama that just happened to be playing in the lobby when Beltran had checked in to his hotel. It featured his name, "Micah Jones", his picture and a bar-code that if read would direct a person to the holo-site of one of the better noodle restaurants in the city.

Without allowing the constable to get more than a split-second glance at it, Beltran then shouldered his way past the two men and entered the victims' apartment. He estimated about thirty-seconds for the men behind him to stand gawking at each other. Another minute and a half for them to either go downstairs or com-in to the scene commander. Perhaps another minute or two before someone with authority understood the situation well enough to know that they were being had and a minute and a half for one of them to make their way up to confront him.

All told, Beltran suspected that he would get less than five minutes to himself before he would need to either leave, or convince the higher-ups that he belonged here. Pulling out his portable HUD scanner, he slide the device over his eyes and began to scan the area. There were a few med-techs milling around, documenting evidence, but after overhearing his demeanor with the men outside they gave him a wide berth. He would scan the kitchenette/dining space where the wife had been impaled by the table.

The body had been removed, probably a few hours earlier, and the table with it. But he was able to commandeer one of the med-tech's scanners to download the scans that had been taken then. Dried blood splattered the walls, indicating to Beltran a exceptional level of force had been used. Since nobody had heard screaming, he suspected that her death had been reasonably quick.

She probably wasn't the goal, then. Just an obstacle. He thought to himself before moving into the bedroom where the other victim had been disem-brained. There was blood here too, but the pattern was far more concentrated. Someone or something held him in place while he was being cut. They had probably also muffled his mouth with some kind of covering, or had rendered him unconscious-since again there had been no screaming heard and a procedure like this would have taken time.

His initial impressions were that whoever had done this had used the Force. A powerful telekinetic, with a decent working knowledge of the victims' anatomy could have done all of these things. It was possible that the being had just used brute strength, perhaps augmented by cybernetics, but being able to do all of this so quietly made that seem unlikely. Multiple assailants could have also been an explanation, but with each additional presence there would be more of a likelihood of a mistake being made.

And Beltran didn't believe that the perpetrator was one to make mistakes. Other than the damaged front door, table used to kill the victims' wife and the mess in the bedroom, nothing else seemed disturbed. So in going on with his Force user theory, Beltran closed his eyes and quieted his mind. He then reached out with the Force, knowing full well that if there were any other Force users in the vicinity he would shine out like a beacon to them. After a moment, he confirmed this theory. There was an aura of the Dark Side here. Twisted and malevolent and cold.

Beltran knew that he would need to speak to whoever was in charge of this investigation now. So he didn't leave, or try to flee as the constables with their scene commander in tow barged in to the apartment to confront him.

Ravenous

Gnoll · Nov 4, 2020

Gnoll bowed his head as he was given the keycard, "Thank you." he responded before making his way towards the location, careful not to break anything along the way.

It would seem color would be nearly the only thing he shared with the Captain as Gnoll entered the room. Waiting patiently as he watched the captain emanate frustration. Gnoll wouldn't have to wait long as another was brought in. He let out a hum as he saw

Sy' Lanat . Gnoll was in a sitting position more out of respect for everyone else. He actually preferred to stand, however it also caused him to overshadow almost every other sentient species.

Gnoll nodded his head towards Sy as he heard them speak of his skills. He spoke to the Chiss, "Exchanging time for time." he said simply. Each word seeming to take its time escaping his foliage bearded mouth. The captain already knew who Gnoll was, there was no need to introduce himself to him. However the Chiss may not. He spoke again, "I am Gnoll Barr, Jedi knight. I come in hopes my time can be of aid."

He had no interest in the money. Naturally it could be useful for payments such as docking fees and other such similar problems. But he did not eat, nor indulge himself often in anything that would cost money. Gnoll's live involved more meditation than almost anything else. It was one of only three things he could be said to have mastered, meditation, plant surge, and patience.

Ishani Dinn · Nov 4, 2020

Current Configuration: Psychologist Form (see bio for details)

Gear: Vibrocutlass | Last Whisper Suppressed Blaster | Pheromone bracelet

“I mean, it was almost like—something out of a movie, y’know?”

Bithia nodded, but her focus was on other things. The police chief following along behind her had been talking non-stop for the past five minutes. Thanks to the persuasive power of her pheromone bracelet, he had let her into the crime scene, but he had also been tailing her like a puppy, attracted by the fumes. Note to self: turn it down a notch next time.

As it turned out, there hadn’t been a string of homicides, just a double in this apartment. Husband and wife. The wife was impaled with a table (creative) and the husband had run to hide in the bedroom, only to be pinned down and have his brain removed. It was a neat little operation, done quietly and with finesse. If Bithia had to guess, the perpetrator was almost certainly a space wizard.

But what did he want this guy’s brain for?

Since the wife’s skull had been left untouched, she supposed the guy didn’t want just anyone’s gray matter. He specifically came after this one guy. And while hiding in another room was standard behavior in a break-in, she sort of got the impression that the victim may have known the killer. Or at least had some idea of what he intended to do…

Looking around the apartment’s bedroom, she scanned for forensic samples. The police probably would’ve already collected any stray DNA, but one could never be too sure when it came to backwater little worlds like this one. Nothing.

“So, uh, what’s it like being a detective for the Taris Lower City Police?” the cop asked casually.

“Not very lucrative, considering that Taris has been bombed so many times it might as well be uninhabitable at this point,” Bithia replied dryly, crouching down to look underneath the bed and other furniture. "But then that's why I'm here rather than there."

“Oh. Really? I hadn’t heard. Sorry to hear it.”

“Well, thank you for letting me have a look around here,” she said, straightening. “But I think I better go down to the station and see what the other investigators collected from the scene. Lead the way.”

***

Down at the station, Bithia produced fake credentials and turned up the pheromones in order to get through. Once inside, she found herself in a briefing room already occupied by what appeared to be a giant sentient tree (a Neti, her databanks informed her) along with a Chiss in handcuffs, the captain, and a few other policemen. Raising her eyebrows, she flashed her badge to everyone in the room.

“Lydia Mina, detective from Interpol. I’m here to offer my assistance in this investigation.” Lowering the badge, she conveniently waved her bracelet-clad arm in the direction of the sour-looking captain, hoping the pheromones would get him to lighten up a little.

Gnoll Ravenous

Sy' Lanat · Nov 5, 2020

Today was shaping up to be an informative day. It turns out talking enough does, in fact, help when working the authorities. Apparently all those years of being told to keep his mouth shut when taken in was a waste of time. Sy' wondered how many hours in various holding cells he could have avoided if only he had talked. On the flip side, he had never been convicted of anything, at least nothing more harmful to his image than the occasional drunken brawl.

The Chiss remained quiet as the officer, who seemed quite uncertain about this, escorted him through the station to a briefing room. Along the way, he idly wondered what the purpose was of cuffing his one hand if they didn't connect it to anything else. Sure, sometimes these things had manual shock systems that the police could activate with a moment's notice, but most were designed to activate when the cuffed individual attempted to break them. That really didn't work well with his current scenario; it was kind of like an oversized bracelet that would have given even the gaudiest of models a churned stomach. It just didn't quite compliment his complexion, not one bit.

Sy' was soon brought back to reality when he entered the room. The first thing that caught his attention was the odd decision of decoration. The far corner had an overgrown plant, it reminded Sy' of home, and he found it quite pleasant to see. However, it was an incredibly odd piece to have in a police station. It looked far too wild to inspire much sense of security in the police. Maybe there is no sense in this world.

He gave a most vexatious grin to the commander, "Thank you, sir. You won't regret it." As he was sat down in a most uncomfortable chair, Sy' released a drawn-out sigh. This is going to be a long day.

It was a moment too late that he realized the tree next to him had eyes, and more importantly that its eyes were focused on him as a deep voice seemed to rumble from it, dripping words slowly as if from molasses. The Chiss' eyes widened, and he failed to conceal his shocked expression. Nonetheless, his voice remained steady as he replied with as little surprise as he could manage, "Well, this is going to be a day. If you forgive my impertinence, but I thought all the talking trees were just figments of my childhood."

With an ostentatious glance to the nearest police, Sy' saddled closer to the treekin... treefolk?... and asked in a semi-hushed voice, "And a Jedi too? How did you manage that?"

The blue-skinned near-human noted as yet another party entered the room. For all of his apparent flippancy and inattentiveness, Sy' was quite observant, part of the job requirements when dealing with individuals hundreds of meters away. He couldn't put his finger on it, as if he could put his finger on anything at the moment, but he had a suspicion that this one, though she appeared completely normal, was anything but. I have been drinking though... He reminded himself. Also, if intergalactic police were involved in this investigation, then it was a sight more important than he had realized and perhaps not the best to get himself wrapped up in. There was also a bit of a misunderstanding with Interpol, some bad business on a rogue asteroid, back when he had both his arms and took himself far too seriously. He hoped, if he were religious he would have prayed, that she was not what she claimed to be.

Ravenous

Ravenous · Nov 6, 2020

Misfits, rookies, and professionals all in one room. In any other setting, it would have been absolute chaos but when your a cop on the trail of a scalpel wielding serial killer you can't help but fall in line with whatever's going on. So the group of about thirty or so lawmen sat there with their hands folded and eyes tracking their captain's every movement as he paced frantically around the evidence board riddled with smugged red marker that refused to come up no matter how much bleach was poured on it. "Alright listen up because I only want to go over this once!" As if their pupils weren't already zoomed in on the Nautolan the officers leaned forward in their chairs determined not to be reprimanded by their captain. "Over the course of the past month, fifteen people have died in the exact same fashion. Their brains were removed from their bodies and their heads were stitched back together afterward. Their homes were broken into and anyone inside was brutally murdered. They all seem to have jobs at the Vandelhelm shipyards where they were working on some special project. Strangely no one can seem to get a glimpse of this figure and the victim's neighbors don't recall hearing any strange noises. People are starting to refer to him as The Headhunter he's become a sort of urban legend. Now after doing some research we actually found a case very similar to this that took place thirty-eight years prior." The Captain held out his hand and grasped a file brought over to him by another officer.

"In this case over twenty-seven people went missing over the course of three years. We eventually identified the culprit as Garick Bander a middle-aged shipyard owner living at the top of Banker's Point a cliffside to the east of here." The captain activated a slideshow of images containing Garicks victims, their hands, feet, and head removed. Some of the rookies cringed at the sight while the veterans only managed a slight grimace at the morbid display. "We eventually found the bodies inside one of his warehouses which has since been condemned." The captain deactivated the slideshow and turned to address the room. In front of him were three stacks of paper all with different contents. "We only have three leads on this case. Banker's point, The old Bander Warehouse, and The Vandelhelm shipyards who have so far refused to relieve any info about their special project."

Three cops traveled around the room instructing

Gnoll and

Beltran Rarr (Who was brought in earlier when the cops found out who he really was. Would mentioned this earlier but technology) to investigate the warehouse while

Sy' Lanat Checked out the old house on Banker's hill.

Ishani Dinn was ordered down to the shipyards in hopes she could get some answers.

Hey guy's Just a head's up while I am going to kind of nudge the thread in a certain direction for plot reasons feel free to find whatever strange bombshell of a fact you want to at these locations. I'm excited to see whatever strange shenanigans you find.

Beltran Rarr · Nov 6, 2020

Beltran listened to the Police Captain's briefing, dialed in as if it was any other operation. The truth was, he was in some uncharted waters here. During his career with the Antarian Rangers, he had done his share of surveillance and reconnaissance, but he'd never actually investigated a criminal case before. Even prior to his days in the Rangers, when he had been a hitman, he'd been on the other side of the law.

This would be the first time he would act as a member of law enforcement, and it was an interesting feeling. Part of him remembered all of the corrupt, or otherwise useless police officers he'd had to deal with growing up on the streets of Lorrd. That part of him felt a slight tinge of resentment at the sight of all these beings pooling together to stop this threat, when so many of the things that had been allowed to hurt him had been ignored but another part of him found it to be a refreshing intellectual exercise.

Once the briefing was over and the assignments were handed out, Beltran would approach the giant Tree-like being

Gnoll and introduce himself. "Beltran Rarr," He told the being, extending his small-by-comparison hand in greeting. "I'm a Captain with the Antarian Rangers." He left out the part where he was also a Force apprentice. Beltran could feel the being's calm presence through the mystical energy and knew that he was a Force User. Odds were, if Beltran could feel him, he could feel Beltran in return. "I don't know if you had a chance to look over the apartment," He continued. "But I believe that I felt a Dark Side presence lingering there. I suspect that our killer may be a Force User."

Beltran didn't think that he was the only one to come to that conclusion, but on the off chance that the Tree-man hadn't been to the apartment, or hadn't felt the presence, he wanted to be sure that the being knew what they might be walking into.

"At any rate, I'm ready to go check out this warehouse if you are."

Ravenous

Gnoll · Nov 7, 2020

More would be brought to the room, including

Ishani Dinn who introduced herself as Lydia Mina of Interpol. Indeed this situation had escalated to such a point. He wondered just what extent they'd be willing to go to to keep the individual from escaping. Or, perhaps, they'd be just fine with their escape.

Gnoll chuckled slightly at

Sy' Lanat 's joke about 'talking trees' being childhood figments, "Perhaps that's all I am." he said quietly, an amused smile visible underneath the 'beard' His Jedi comment received a more straightforward, but not much more informative, response, "With effort."

The things went on, and Gnoll watched all. But more importantly he tried to feel through the force. He wanted to know if he could sense any deception from those present, particularly of the officers or the captain himself. Because if there was, he might be able to glean more out of this. It was unlikely that someone in here was directly involved, but not impossible.

Fifteen in one month, or approximately one every two days. An incredibly fast kill-streak. It again pressed him on the idea of an anzati or similar species. They'd have the skill and powers to locate and feed on someone without getting caught, and killing anyone who was there. But they were not known for these tactics, and stitching the head together again? That just didn't match. It wasn't just a species thing, it was something that more resembled culture. He began to wonder if the brains were eaten, destroyed, or...maintained.

Presumedly, this happened before but the individual was caught. It was however a long time ago. This caused a deep hum to come from the sentient plant. This he felt was an extremely vital point. If they were wrong, then it further pressed the idea that whoever they were dealing with likely had greater age or capabilities than normal. If they were right, than this may be a cult or something like it. Or a copycat.

Gnoll would be put with

Beltran Rarr who introduced himself as an Antarian Ranger. Gnoll bowed his head in turn. Interesting, they were not known for force sensitivity. "Jedi Knight, Gnoll Bar." he responded simply. He listened as the man mentioned that he'd sensed a dark presence at the apartment which further pressed Gnoll's belief in that possibility, "Mmmm yes, I have been under a similar impression but this presses it further. The Dark Side often harnesses those with unusual belief's. I have heard of more than one case in which the brain is removed or destroyed, however, not within a force sensitive group."

He nodded his head as Beltran said he was ready to check out the warehouse. Gnoll might very well have to walk, or else rent a much bigger speeder or taxi.

Gnoll's arrival would not be followed immediately by a physical search. Instead, he would simply stand, and shut his eyes. If Beltran was with him, he'd explain himself, "In most things, I remain considered a Knight in terms of skill. Except in two, one is meditation. I intend to search the force for guidance, perhaps it will prevent me from making mistakes." he said. And then seemed to simply stop moving altogether. His body didn't seem to change much, yet his footing made him appear ever so much more treelike as he conversed with the force. Letting it flow. He would leave his eyes closed, and would likely remain that way for a few minutes, searching for any warnings of the force about the dark side, or, if it were to do so, guiding him towards what evidence might be available.

Ishani Dinn · Nov 8, 2020

Bithia watched the captain’s presentation intently. Had she still been truly alive, the gruesome images of the bodies in the slideshow would’ve turned her stomach, but she no longer suffered from such biological reactions. She did, however, feel empathy for the victims and their families. This was a horrible, brutal way to die, and the bodies were still piling up.

After being given her assignment to investigate the shipyards, she rose to leave. On her way out she overheard some of

Beltran Rarr and

Gnoll ‘s conversation, specifically the bit about a Dark Side Force User being involved. That certainly didn’t surprise her, given the nature of this case. A cult of some kind certainly sounded plausible. But she didn’t want to draw any more conclusions until she had a chance to poke around the shipyards.

She found the Vandelhelm Shipyards strangely deserted. There were no workers milling about, and the hulks of ships in obvious need of repair were just sitting in the docks, some covered up and others left out in the sun. As she walked she saw the frame of a new ship in the process of being built—though all activity to that end seemed to have halted a long time ago, as the metal frame was dirty and starting to rust.

Wandering the yards, she searched for an office or other similar building where she might find an employee. At last, she saw a white place that seemed to fit the bill. The door however was locked. Taking a step back, she kicked the door down.

“Hey!” a voice shouted in surprise. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? This is private property!”

“I’m looking for an employee,” Bithia replied calmly, pressing a button on her pheromone bracelet as she entered the building. “Do you work here?”

“I—Sure, yeah, I work here,” the voice, which belonged to a Weequay sitting at a desk, stammered. “What do you need?”

“I need answers. Fifteen people have died this past month, and all of them worked here. Clearly there’s some kind of a connection, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Oh chit, oh hell…” the Weequay muttered. “Look, I don’t know anything about that. I’m just an office guy. I file the paperwork.”

“Then where is everybody else? The boss, the mechanics, the builders?”

“I don’t know—I think these murders are taking a heavy toll on the company. They’re losing too many workers. It’s probably gonna go under soon. That’s why nobody is around here anymore but me…”

“Do you know anything about the 'special project' they were working on?”

The Weequay shook his head vigorously, but he was shaking. “No, no. I don’t know nothing about that.”

Her programming detected classic signs of dishonesty in his body language. Reaching out, she grabbed hold of his collar, pulling him toward her. “I think you do know something, sir. People are dying out here. Who knows? You could be next. Won’t you tell me the truth so I can put a stop to it?”

Swallowing, the alien squeaked out, “I don’t know what it is—I just know that they hold meetings under the docks late at night. Random days of the week. I don’t know what they do, but I see them walking every now and then, dressed in—in long robes!”

She let him go. “Thank you.” Looking around, she added, “I strongly suggest you go home for the day. Things might be getting a little bit messy around here.”

Nodding and panting from terror, the Weequay stood up, grabbed a few things, and hurried out.

Ravenous

Sy' Lanat · Nov 9, 2020

Sy' watched as the various images of grisly details flashed on the screen. I remember when I could have been a suspect in this sort of thing. He lied to himself. Wouldn't have cut people's feet off. Hands and head, sure makes it harder to identify. But feet? Might as well just draw and quarter them, go all the way. As one holo came up, the Chiss stifled a chuckled. And that is why you don't get a tattoo like that, never know how it will look when you're dead.

As the briefing concluded, Sy' shrugged inwardly. Well, I get the old house eh? Probably creepy too. The blue-skinned sentient was passed a dataslate with information on the house. He decided to leave the room and at least head towards Banker's Point, he could read the information on the way. Sy' nodded to the officer that joined him as he walked out the room. "Look, if you're going to follow me around and keep an eye on me, take this off will you?" The human seemed uncertain how to respond for a moment, but as they stepped onto the permacrete he relented.

The now uncuffed mercenary waved down a taxi and the duo stepped aboard. Sy' remained silent for the first few minutes, reading about the building and its owner. Finally, he decided to break the tension. "So, looks like this place has been in the family for quite some time. Must be pretty bad if they couldn't find a buyer..." The joke seemed to catch the junior policeman off-guard.

"Umm, no the family's avoided selling, very valuable land there. Set up on a hill with good views." Sy' just stared for a moment as the officer explained.

Pushing out a short breath, the Chiss responded more slowly, "O-oh, I see we are not going to be on the same page here. Anyways, it says here our suspect was an Elomin. Heard about them from an Elom I hunted once. Not very creative with their naming huh? But these guys are supposed to be neat freaks, very hygienic. Why would a person of a race known for obsessive preening be messing around with bloody bodies?"

His companion seemed about as stumped as he was, so Sy' continued unabated. "And this Bander guy is imprisoned or something, life or death sentence, so this can't be the same guy. Copycat? Seems a bit too cliche, although they have an interesting twist on things. Taking the brain, but leaving most of the body intact compared to removing the extremities."

So it continued for the ride, Sy' going through pertinent topics and occasionally falling into inane incomprehensible statements. Never be predictable.

----

Finally at Banker's Point, Sy' spent a few minutes exploring the premise. It was a large space in a very convenient location. Although the large viewports were a bit much. He could almost imagine sitting on a neighbouring building and taking shots at targets through the windows.

"So, sir. Are we free to move about the area? Or am I going to have to watch out for somebody inside?"

"Should be fine. Official business."

Without waiting a moment longer, the Chiss charged up to the front entrance and pushed open the large swinging doors. How very archaic. He motioned to the officer, "Come on, we've got work to do."

Ravenous

Ravenous · Nov 9, 2020

With a resounding metal creak, the colossal metal doors to the old rusted warehouse opened dust and other filth showering from the ancient entranceway. The constables drew their blasters and switched on the flashlight attachment beams of Light illuminating the dark and mysterious facility. "Spread out! look for any clues!" The force of officers infested the warehouse the sour smell of mold and mildew assaulting their senses. The horrid sound of clanging metal could be heard as metal panels and alloy scraps were flung about the scene being dissected vigorously by the enforcers. "Hey! We got something over here!" Their attention garnered the rest of the force made their way over towards the duo of Cops their guns aimed at a pair of rusted metal doors on the floor a browned chain and copper padlock barring them shut.

"The Chain is rusted...the lock is new. Someone has been down here...recently." In silence, the group exchanged looks their next action clear. A loud flash of red preceded a loud bang as the metal doors were blown open a stream of cops descending into what appeared to be a cellar of some kind.

Broken glass, Shattered tech, and an array of liquids lined the floor in what seemed to be a hastily planned cleanup. Careful not to trip on any stray wires the Police investigated the scene traces of bleach and other cleaning agents present on what was left of the evidence. "They must have known we were coming and packed up shop." Sliding open a wooden box a Junior officer searched through its contents his eyes empty and distraught at his discovery. His warning came out in a series of strained whispers as he tried to warn his colleagues of the danger his face snow white. Ash and cinder filled the chamber as the bomb inside the box went off followed by several other loud bangs outside. The warehouse began crumbling and the cellar was engulfed in intense flames.

Meanwhile at the Vandelhelm Shipyards...

"Yaaaaaah!!" A bald middle-aged Mirialan was sent flying across a small docking bridge a bubbling pool of molten ore steaming just below him. The assembly line was dim in light and the heat from the machines made his eyes water as he crawled away from the danger that hunted him ruthlessly. Three figures each dressed in long crimson robes with bronze frills along the arms and neck approached the plump man their faces covered by Bronze masks that resembled a face screeching in agony. "You missed your last payment." Said the ring leader with an emotionless drive that chilled the Mirialan.

"B-But this is your fault! All those deaths and kidnappings...it's killing the company and it's killing me! How can you tax a company that you yourself are destroying! This will-" With inhuman speed and accuracy the figures sped forward the ring leader, in particular, clutched the old man by his neck and hoisted him over the edge of the docking bridge. "This isn't about your lack of funds." He whispered with the same emotionless demeanor. "The Progenitor has called for your quick and untimely death at the hands of an accident." There was a long pause between the two before the three figures began speaking in sync with each other to an almost inhuman degree. "In the end, it is only his wishes that matter and only his goals that can be allowed to persist. There is only him and there is only his way and you have strayed from that path and must be purged if he is to succeed."

Their sentiment delivered the ring leader dropped the man into the smelting bot his anguish filled screams masking the figures escape as they ran out the shipyard the almost abandoned status of the facility aiding them in this regard. As the Mirialan anguished in that fire his skin and tissue melting away he thought on recent months and how unkind they had been to him. A divorce, a spike in work-related injuries, and now this...Life was a cruel mistress.

Meanwhile at Banker's point

The Inside of Bander's family home was very...antique. Dreary wilted wallpaper and tired old paintings of rich nobles lined the walls of the main hall a grand wooden staircase leading upstairs to a dusty, lint-filled hallway lined by stone statues of naked philosophers of dead ideas and cultures. The kitchen and dining room were no better as both were coated in a lining of dust and filth that had caked up over time. The furniture that was inside the house was torn and matted and the flooring of the mansion had been reduced to crumbling marble.

Bander's bedroom held a canopy bed occupying the middle of the room while dozens of dressers and file cabinets lined the sides of the room. Files scattered the floor their contents emptied...recently. Footprints could be seen in the dust and a handprint could be seen on the large wooden door.

Two Hours after Bithia's Aggressive negotiation...

his bag in hand and his throat still aching a Weequay strode down a dimly lit road the yellowish-orange light from the street lights providing a minimal sense of comfort on that humid summer night. His house was within eyeshot when he suddenly glimpsed at a tall dark figure leaning against a lampost ahead. If he could've avoided this encounter he would have but this was the only path to his house so he had to face this raven-like figure. As he walked past he covered his face with his hand doing his best to avoid eye contact only to catch a glimpse at the figure as he brushed past him. From what he saw the figure had black robes and golden eyes, not like the alcoholics and drug addicts he called friends but of pure evil and malintent that ate and ravaged everything in sight.

The Weequay felt cold and empty a creeping sense of dread crawling over his shoulders.

"Do you know the definition of reprisal?" The Weequay stopped in his tracks the figures cold deep voice seemingly holding him in place as he tried to step forward to no avail. "T-This...This is the force! The power of the Jedi or the-" His mouth slammed shut part of his tongue being crushed in the process. As blood trickled down his chin the dark figure behind the Weequay approached a dark metal cylinder object in his hand.

"Reprisal isn't something that can be random, it has to be earned...And you my friend..." Instantly a beam made of pure light and energy punched a hole through the Weequay's chest piercing his heart and sending his eyes rolling to the back of his skull. "Have earned that right."

Sy' Lanat |

Beltran Rarr |

Ishani Dinn |

Beltran Rarr · Nov 10, 2020

Beltran wasn't the first in the door, leaving that up to the local police. As the officers spread out through the dingy warehouse, Beltran stood in the center of the structure, stretching out with the Force. "Do you feel that?" He would ask the Tree-giant

Gnoll . There was an energy about this place, a twisted darkness that permeated the concrete pillars, rusted metal and broken windows. It reminded the Lorrdian of what he'd felt at the victims' apartment, but somehow it was subtler.

Perhaps he was feeling the residual presence of the warehouse's original owner. Or perhaps this was from the current killer. Or perhaps they were the same person. The Force was funny that way, Beltran was coming to learn. It could provide you with all sorts of preternatural information, but it couldn't-or wouldn't-sort it out for you. So much was open to interpretation. So much was...imprecise.

"Hey! We got something over here!" Beltran overheard one of the officers calling out. There was something of a mad dash as several of the police officers, including their commander went over to the pair of rusted out doors.

"The Chain is rusted...the lock is new. Someone has been down here...recently." One of them was saying as Beltran arrived. Already, members of the investigation team were planting charges on the doors. Beltran might have gone for a quieter entry, but he understood their reasoning. So he stood off to the side, one hand on his hand-cannon, as the tactical team stacked up and the charges were detonated.

Within seconds, the doors had been blown in and the team of officers were making their way down the stairs in a textbook breach. Beltran watched them, silently appraising their training and execution. They were surprisingly efficient for a local police unit and Beltran felt that with some additional training, most of them would have made excellent Rangers.

He was about to begin his way down the stairs when he felt it, sudden and jarring. Danger. Turning to the man behind him, he spoke quietly and firmly. "You need to get everyone out of here, now." The officer looked confused, so Beltran used the Force to amplify his voice. "NOW!" That was enough to push the man into action as he took off for the entrance, shouting for everyone to evacuate. For his part, Beltran pulled the damaged doors closed as best he could, using the Force to hold them in place.

Seconds later, flames erupted from the chamber below and shot out of the hole the det-charges had made in the now twisted metal doors. Dust and smoke filled the main section and a second later there were several more concussive blast. Releasing his hold on the door, Beltran backed away. To his left, he spotted an officer lying on the ground-unconscious but still breathing. Grabbing him with one hand, he hefted the being up and tossed him toward

Gnoll , the force and his cybernetics enhancing his strength to a point where it looked easy. He trusted the Tree-being to protect the man.

Looking up to the ceiling, he saw the beams beginning to crack. They had maybe five seconds, ten at best, before this entire building collapsed on them. Moving back toward the entrance, Beltran spied another pair of downed officers. He extended his hand toward them, using his telekinetic powers to slide them outside. He then raised his hand to the ceiling, trying to keep the building together be sheer force of will. To

Gnoll , he grunted. "Get. Everybody. Out."

Then the building collapsed, burying Beltran and those who hadn't been able to make it out under it's rubble.

Ravenous

Gnoll · Nov 12, 2020

Gnoll remained silent, as the force guided his thoughts. However there was something of the future. Rather than the past, that would require his aid. Gnoll nodded in response to

Beltran Rarr 's question. Indeed there was darkness here, of past, present, and future alike. It was an unpleasant feeling, like rotten life. Full of holes and fit only for creatures that ate on death.

He could hear all the voices in the building, began to hear bits of the past, see bits, pieces of electronics, and yellowed eyes. Or perhaps they were not truly yellowed to the eyes of most, but to him they were. This was unusual, Gnoll had never practiced abilities of a similar design, but he understood their concepts. The force connected all life just as it connected all of time, they were interwoven, you just had to know how to follow the right strings.

However, then the electronics in the past began to click together into their present form. His eyes opened as he began to grow in size, and more arms seemed to extend from his back, his voice of warning was not needed. Beltran called to get everyone out, and tossed a soldier to him, who the Neti caught gently in his hand, moving its motion to reduce the impact. His arm stretched out releasing him out the door as he reached out, pulling more with the force to his hands to be released, another two legs seemed to emerge from his chest. And then the roof came down.

Gnoll's grunt likely went unheard under the sound of crashing structures. But when it was done, dozens of limbs remained holding the collapsed roof from crushing them under wait as Gnoll stood on four legs, crouched over them all his arms outstretched, eyes shut, as he focused on maintaining his position, and using the force to strengthen him against the considerable weight pressing down on them.

A soft laugh could be heard, deep enough that it might be mistaken for rumbling before he spoke, hopefully only loud enough that they would hear but it wouldn't hurt after the crushing noise from moments ago, "They prepared to alter the present and the future. But they cannot change the past. Beltran, if you don't mind, would you mind creating an exit. While I will ask you to be quick, that is for the sake of everyone else. I would do it myself, but I do not like to move quickly. And have not yet figured out my own exit."

He let out a hum in thought, perhaps he would go through the roof. Regardless. He maybe able to discover more details with time. The question was, would it be necessary. The force could indeed guide one to the right result, but their targets were here recently. That meant there may be a way to track them more easily. As a Jedi, he was taught to be able to run on multiple thought streams. Should him and Beltran both run through footage or documents, he imagined they could discover potential individuals who were involved.

There was of course the possibility he could attempt to re-enter that state of examining the past. It would require meditation, and time, but it seemed like a potential route. Regardless, the present was where one could take action, they needed to get people out first, then more thoughts could be made into action.

Ishani Dinn · Nov 13, 2020

Ravenous

Sy' Lanat

After her encounter with the Weequay, Bithia had found a nice dark corner out of view of any doors or windows, stripped naked, got down on one knee, and began to change form. Her flesh rippled and writhed so disgustingly and disturbingly, it would make a casual observer vomit and/or run away in terror. Even to those with stronger stomachs, it was an absolutely nightmarish sight to behold.

But when the three minute transformation was done, she rose to her feet, now in her Combat Form (see bio for details). This body had a different face and hair; her body was more athletic, muscular, clad in armor and carrying a vibrocutlass strapped to her back.

Scooping up her clothing, she stashed it away and left the office building, strolling through the shipyards. The sound of voices talking rather loudly over by a nearby docking bridge caught her attention. Within seconds, the air was filled with screams—and even as she ran over to the smelting pot, she knew by the timbre of the cries and the accompanying smell of burning flesh that it was already too late to save whoever was producing them.

As for catching the ones responsible…

The robe-wearing figures, in their hurry to escape the shipyards, didn’t even know what hit them. With superhuman speed and strength, Bithia slammed into the trio, sending them sprawling like bowling pins. At least one of them fell and simply didn’t get up, knocked unconscious by the impact. She hacked at the shoulder of another, enough to leave him bleeding and screaming in pain, then turned her attention to the last man standing.

“Well well,” Bithia cooed, hefting her vibrocutlass at him. “Looks like I was right. It is a cult. Complete with terrible fashion sense. Are those robes polyester? Must’ve been sweating up a storm over by that smelting pot. You're lucky you didn't melt in the heat.” She advanced toward him. “How would you prefer to do this: the easy way, or the hard way?”

Sy' Lanat · Nov 14, 2020

"Well, this guy certainly had more money than sense." Sy' spoke aloud, not entirely caring if his companion overheard him or not. "Let's see, that one's a Bothan, 'Life stands at the crossing between the material and the immaterial.' Sounds like a bit forced." His boots crunched loudly over the marble rubble that littered the floor. "Time has not been kind to this place huh." The floors were in shambles and the house could have been the setting for some battle. The statues, expensive beyond Sy's comprehension, stood as emblems of the travesties of sentients. Crude obscenities had been carved into the once blemishless marble, extremities had been severed and lie in ruins about the place, but perhaps most important of all each of the stone figures had identical incisions made on their cranium. "Hmm. Think these might have been done by the killer? Or someone else?"

The officer with him had decided at this point to return from somewhere else in the bowls of the house and spoke up in response, "It's a possibility, the cuts fit the em-oh of our killer thus far. Though we haven't seen anything similar to this before. He's always left his mark on the targets he takes the brains from, never on anything or anyone that he left intact." The human spoke on his own findings, "The only prints in the front rooms are from local adolescents. Guess they must have been the ones who unlocked the front door. Most of the damage is older, but footsteps in the dust suggest there have been recent entrants."

Sy' continued without acknowledging the answer, "Nothing stranger than cutting into stone with the same stuff you'd cut into flesh and bone. Waste of power or cutting edge. Copycat maybe? But why copy a killer with statues? Seems a bit odd. Not made by the owner, cuts are too new and the splinters are on top of most of the rubble."

As if the Chiss had only just realized he was not along his head snapped to the policeman. Standing, he gestured towards the exit further down the hallway. "Nothing helping here, anything on your end?"

With an expression of incredulity, the officer replied slowly, "Nothing too important. People have gotten in before and recently too."

Sy' nodded thoughtfully, "Let's see what else there is then."

The two continued on down the hall into a kitchen where the smell of mildew lay heavy in the air and Sy' had to stifle a retch as the rotting odour followed. The officer behind him seemed less prepared and backpedalled into the hallway with a sound Sy' didn't believe a human mouth was capable of producing.

Putting his hand to his face and pinching his nose, the Chiss moved swiftly to the refresher and pulled it open. A collection of flies and moths scattered as he moved. Disappointing. Inside there was nothing but rotten food and drinks in various states of decay. Was hoping we could say this was the hideout for our killer. Maybe some brains or something.

He stepped out to find the officer several meters down the hallway, ragged breath and coughs filling the air. The blue-skinned sentietn smirked as he reported in a flat voice, "Nothing of interest there. Unless you want to have some old take-out. Let's try the upstairs, got to be something more helpful."

The upstairs was similarly uninteresting until they reached the bedroom. The floors were covered in files and paperwork and Sy' felt a slow churning in his stomach. They were going to have to read through all of that... "Come on, let's look through some of this."

The oficer perked up at the sight of the documents and fell to his knees as he started sifting through them. He appeared to be in his element as he explained, "The footprints appear fresh, these look like personnel documents... from the shipyards? Maybe this will give us some idea of who will be attacked next."

Sy' had reservations, but he reluctantly dropped and began pulling the papers from dusty floor, wishing this were a holofile insteaed of this.

Ravenous