Tropic Thunder [Grayson Imperium]

[Alyson Halle]

The thunderous accord let out from the figure ahead of them. A man who seemed to be immensly strong in the dark side, stronger than any she had seen in quite a long time. The dark energies spewed out of them, infecting all the strings that bound him to his subbordinates. They were being fueled, their hatred brought to the top by this creatures evil.

"I will fight the leader, can I trust the rest of you to the grunts?" Alyson said, not waiting for much of a response as she went to charge through the enemy line. Her lightsaber was ignited, this was not the time for firearms.

She made her way, cutting through the fesh raiders with clean efficiency, one that only came with learned battle experience. The leader was powerful but untrained, he was using his raw potential to make up for it. Had the Rakata finally begun to regain their force sensitivity? If they had? What would that mean for the rest of the galaxy.

Now was not the time, the blade he held was imbued with raw, chaotic energies, strong in the Bogan. It would need to be destroyed, it corrupted the very earth beneath him. If she would allow it to continue existing, it would simply live again to corrupt another innocent soul.

The dark moon sat in the sky, casting over all that stood on the planet. The dark side was strong, the force was out of balance. That would have to be resolved, lest the balance be fully unseated.

[member="Pom Stych Tivé"] [member="Loske Matson"]

 

[Bernard]

One of the perks of being a Jedi was still sensing other living beings despite having lost sight of them. This type of additional sense came in useful in situations like these, when a Jedi lost sight of someone they were following due to an increasingly alarming amount of vegetation and insect life assaulting pristine white robes during a long walk through the underbrush of Tython with seemingly no purpose to it. He wouldn't have minded the earth and grass that was staining his robes had it still been the old days, but with barely ten credits to his name and no stable quarters it was tough cleaning his robes on a regular basis.

Sweeping aside the leaves before him he made it to a clearing and immediately spotted the back of his master, alongside another person. He paused a moment during his train of thought, he hadn't sensed him through the Force, in any way. His mind tried to come up with an explanation for a few moments before he remembered a short abstract from one of the many treatises on eccentric force phenomena which contained details of a unique type of species that had entered the galaxy many centuries ago during a brief conflict which had been impossible to sense through the Force. The man did not appear to be part of the species, but their unique state of being proved it was possible to be invisible to the Force. The exact source of this complete anonymity would have to be ascertained later as Bernard's focus shifted back to his master.

"A friend?" he asked the other Jedi in a hushed tone as he approached.

[member="Marcus Itera"] [member="Wyatt Morga"]

 

[Jegy Sesara]

The silence that enveloped that moment felt...unusual. During that time, he felt the presence of something long buried, something he had not felt in hundreds of years...and they all look towards Pom Stych Tivé. The presence of her in the Force...made him remind of his past, someone he cared of deeply. The Sullustans anger almost vanished as he looked towards the mysterious lady from afar, his mind slowly wandering as he can hear in the back of his mind, small words whispering into his mind of days long lost, his right hand almost gently grasping something near his neck. Then, the war horn sounded loudly around them and a single arrow pierced the liquor box he held as it was now all ruined. There was a bit of a stare towards the Flesh Raiders as he wanted to yell, turning yet the ground gave way underneath him as they start to tumble down, rolling as he would lose the crate rather quickly.

Landing with a THUD near the bottom, the Sullustan would lay there for a few moments as he groaned out in pain. Hearing the familiar hiss of a lightsaber activating, he would slowly look up at the color, seeing it glow a aqua blue as he admired the design from afar. The feeling of calm would wash over him, it was familiar to his own Dyasi lightsaber as he heard if anyone was okay, getting up slowly as he made a retort.

"Well, the Force failed at killing me again...so I guess I'm okay."

He gave a small cough as he leaned up, looking around the catacombs as his eyes would scan side to side. He had not been here before and that was slowly making him intrigued. The Sullustan was a good person when it comes to the artifacts in the Force, the only issue was that he had explored nearly every place in the Galactic Empires records...yet now, here it was, a new place to explore and it made him slightly excited though a sense of dread would soon overwhelm him, possibly having once again, put others into danger.

"Ruins or not...your friends are up there facing down odds alone. We need to head back."

The Sullustan would slowly consider removing from his belt his own lightsaber yet stopped short of doing so, knowing the other wielded a lightsaber of his own. Pulling out his datapad instead, he would connect it to a small light as it became somewhat a lantern on the side of his belt, it swaying back and forth before them. The Sullustan himself was still a bit drunk though it was already wearing off, the adrenaline slowly pushing the alcohol through his system much faster and focusing on the Force, was converting it faster as well through an increased metabolism. Almost each new step he took forward, his stumbles would become shorter, his face from almost drunken glee becoming serious, his eyes that looked heavy, now slowly starting to show life again.

However, the catacombs always seem to hide a secret and it could be felt at that moment. Just a few steps forward, he would stop as he stared to their left down a long, twisted hallway as one with the Force could hear whispers of temptation, of sorrow. Looking down the hallway, he would not make a step towards it as he had many dealings at this point with the unnatural though he turned to the human male that spoke about him saying it would not work, making a very simple statement.

"We are disturbing its final resting place...those of the Light are not the only ones buried here."

[member="Cedric Grayson"]
[member="Dak"]

 

[Dak]

[SIZE=10pt][member="Cedric Grayson"] | [member="Jegy Sesara"][/SIZE]​

[SIZE=10pt]The entirety of the situation thus far had been unexpected, so it only served as a minor addition to the confusion when the warhorns rang out across the temple grounds. Caught by surprise, the droid unslings his Jackal ACR and shoulders it, ready to open fire upon orders.

Unfortunately, before those orders would come, the ground shook violently and Dak found himself in a sudden free-fall.

The DAC hits the ground with a loud metallic clank and tumbles forward, losing his grip on the rifle and tossing it to the side by accident. He skids to a stop, laying still in the dust and rubble for a moment while running a brief internal diagnostic.

ALL SYSTEMS OPERATIONAL – no failures detected

Content with this result, he stirs from where he landed and pulls himself to one knee. "Quite unexpected," he says quietly, snagging his ACR from the dirt next to him. He brushes the weapon off and gives it a once-over as he stands to full height, then turns his attention to the other two who had fallen with him.

“This stranger is correct, Master Cedric. We must get back and aid the others quickly.” He gives his ACR a final shake and returns it to a tight grip, held close to his chest. As an artificial entity, Dak had no connection to the Living Force. He was not able to hear this places’ warnings or feel the lingering pain like the two Jedi he now accompanied.

Whether good or bad, he also lacked the concern of his two allies.[/SIZE]

 

[Wyatt Morga]

As Bernard closed towards them, there would be a simple message to the Apprentice -

“Be careful. He might be dangerous.”, and that was that.

Wyatt never looked at his apprentice when he broke through the treeline, the Jedi Knight smiled and motioned him forward - then looked back to Marcus;

“This is my padawan, Bernard.”

And with that, he motioned them all to follow -

“Let’s find Cedric. What are you meeting him for, Marcus?”

[member="Bernard of Arca"] │ [member="Marcus Itera"]

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Boom goes the ground.​

​

Yeah, that made sense. Cyr being [member="Cedric Grayson"] was really no surprise when [member="Pom Stych Tivé"] broke it down. Cyr was short for Cyril, and despite the differences between them, there were also some pretty striking similarities. Like their faces.

And you could talk to the dead, if you wanted to apparently. Pom Stych Tivé had developed quite the knack to be nonchalant with her delivery of absolutely reality shattering information. It made interpreting what she was saying….rather tricky for the Padawan. Was it all real? Was it a joke? Her expression was quizzical, as if contorting her face would be enough to call out if the witch was lying or not, but it was missed in the general movements of the group meandering.

The group detoured, and dutifully each one followed after the other. All confronted with a very agitated [member="Jegy Sesara"]. Even though he was upset, she couldn't help but lift her hand in a familiar wave. She'd met this fellow on Wayland, and they'd taken a bike ride together. That trip had turned out to be a bit of a disorganized mess in the end. Which was...probably an anti-saving-grace to the frustrated Sullustan. "Hi, doctor.." she murmured, barely able to interject a notable salutations between his raised voice and frustrated undertones. It was a shame to hear someone so desperate for death -- that level of destitution was beyond the blonde, so she could only frown and listen with as much feigned empathy as she could muster.

Then, all heck broke loose. There was an ominous encroaching feeling, and cerulean gaze darted about rather frantically. It didn’t take long to detect what created that rolling, dark presence. In fact, it announced itself. Themselves.

“Oh..” She exhaled, dropping her hand to her hip. She’d yet to create her lightsaber, and thus was left with nothing but an uncivilized blaster. Oh! And The Force. On a planet was was teeming with potential. It didn’t take long for the grass beneath them to quiver and react to the thunderous slam of their perceivable leader. She crouched to her balance, but it didn’t matter. She tumbled to her butt anyway. It seemed The Force hadn’t chosen the few who remained standing, whereas parts of the ground gave way to swallow half of the explorers. She grunted only, to counter the reverberations, and absently wondered whereabouts [member="Shanoed Marais"] was. She seemed like the type to be into this sort of thing.

[member="Alyson Halle"] declared she’d focus on the brute with the sword, and Loske was all too eager to allow the Jedi Master to do whatever she needed to. Which left herself and the woman who convened with the dead to handle….everything else. By now, she’d righted herself to a kneeling position.

She gulped and closed her eyes.

When she opened them again, everyone was in the same motion she’d been half a heartbeat before. Her body was filled with adrenaline and a focus that she partly attributed to her ring, but also The Force itself. It wanted to be used. It was practically begging. The ground had been tainted to the serenity it’d felt earlier, disrupted by something toted by the horrifying beasts with the troublesome name. In that breath where she’d closed off her physical vision, the empyrean had assisted her gaze to that akin of a targeting beacon. All the footsteps on the spoiled ground that were not of malicious intent and the dark side had been identified.

She pressed her palms into the soil, sending out a telekinetic search that ended up manifesting in a bubbling uproar that would erupt at the feet of the opposition, blowing many from their stance and putting some distance between the trio above ground and the manipulated, deft Rakata. Parts of the soil splattered along with frayed roots, and grass to add to the debris.

Still engorged with Ashla, Loske had yet to hit her stride. But before she did, took a moment to admire her handiwork as she rose to stand, and some of the alien folk also struggled to rise while their two respective seniors in The Force contested. “Holy kark that was awesome.”

 

[Placeholder 0128]

[member="Dak"], [member="Jegy Sesara"]

"I really, really hate tunnels." Cedric groaned as he looked over each of his companions. All the right parts seemed to be in place, so that was something at least. "If the Force wanted you dead friend, you would be," he added to the Sullustan. "We need to get up there. There were more flesh raiders than we could have handled all together. They'll have to find some sort of escape, and we need to do the same." The Sullustan spoke of darkness and lost spirits. The Bogan. Cedric's brow furrowed, but he gave no comment.

"I appreciate your enthusiasm [member="Dak"]," he added as he started to walk down the path that had been carved through the tunnels. He felt the whispers just as the Sullustan did, calling out from one of the left leaning paths. Cedric paused. "I'm Cedric, this is Dak," he explained to the Sullustan. "I've got no idea which way we need to go, but something tells me whatever's calling out to the both of us has something to do with those flesh raiders being so riled up."

Another pause.

"We have to have faith in them. There's nothing we can do down here, and it could take hours to find the path back up, but if whatever's down here is fueling our foes above...well, we need to deal with it." He did not wait for a reply, instead marching off into the gloom of the left path, the presence of the Bogan growing ever more present with each step.

--------------------​

​

[member="Loske Matson"], [member="Alyson Halle"], [member="Pom Stych Tivé"] ​

Up above, the robed figure marched forward. Rather than flee, the hated Jedi chose to stand and fight - it would be their undoing. The handful of rogue Flesh Raiders that had broken through the cordon to rescue the Jedi could not hold their opening. Two dozen had marched out of the trees, and many of them fell beneath arrows, blaster bolts, and the wicked blades of their former comrades.

The one eyed leader howled in frustration. "Through hole Jedi!" He roared as one of his comrades was ran through with an extended scythe. He pointed toward the hole in the enemy line they'd created. "We die here! My people die for you - why you wish to die? Run!"
One of the Jedi had elected to charge the robed one. A low rumbling laughter came from the beast as it reached up, drawing back its cowl. Its face was deathly pale, and marked with triangular crimson tattoos. Eyes like smoldering cowls peered out from a short face, its lips pulled back in a pleased sneer. The robed one was a Dashade, and the Flesh Raiders under its command that were not in combat immediately dropped to one knee in veneration.

"You are overconfident child," its voice rumbled in heavily accented basic. The runes along its warblades began to glow bright red as [member="Alyson Halle"] approached. "You come to me rather than save the lives of those that follow you. Always predictable, your kind," a massive wave of telekinetic force was ushered forth from the beast's fingertips. It exploded outward, tearing up the earth and sending anything in its path flying. Several of the Dashade's flesh raiders were caught in the blast, their bodies breaking against the ruins of the old temple with sickening cracks. That wave headed straight for the charging Jedi Master.

----------​

​

[member="Wyatt Morga"], [member="Bernard of Arca"], [member="Marcus Itera"]​

Elsewhere, a clan hunted. These were some of the robed ones favorites. Flesh Raiders born of the most vile of violations, and forged to be Tython's apex predators. Seven of them stalked through trees. They were armed with poisoned warblades, and clothed in black robes in mockery of traditional Sith vestments.

The creatures watched the trio for a few minutes, gauging their danger. It was only when two of them came dropping from the canopies, words of war screamed at the top of their throats, that Wyatt and his companions would likely notice them. As the two fell, the other five charged from the brush, screaming similar words as they intended to carve the trio into small bloody ribbons.

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

Cedric and some others fell into a trap door hidden under the earth. The Nightsister knew they were capable of defending themselves. If the group had to get out of being in the open, down into wherever the others went will be an option. It wouldn't take much magick to accomplish! Open Sesame and its done! The Jedi seemed focussed on dealing with the locals, and so she put that first.

'Don't dare do stuff. Now to do stuff.' Let's face it, she can't just stand here and be useless. Pom has no idea if the Jedi have determined these beings need to die, or should she simply corral them? Then her new acquaintance did the latter, and nobody died...yet.

She had no idea what it accomplished, but watched as some of the animalistic beings seemed to withdrawal a few paces. "Hmm," is all she said, but she is perhaps just as intrigued with what was done, as [member="Loske Matson"] seemed to be with Pom.

'Well, now what?' she wondered, for surely the animals hadn't scattered enough to retreat. Pom could give them something to run from! She has quite a few demons under her sleeves. But [member="Cedric Grayson"] said...

'Shut up! This is no time for demands on style,' she decided. "Hey! If you need a hand, just say so," she told Loske, while a crude arrow soared through the air toward the two, and Pom casually waved a hand causing the arrow to stop in mid air as if hitting an invisible wall and fall to the ground. She looked around nonchalantly, as if wondering how that had happened.

The Nightsister whistled as she shuffled on by the side of her new acquaintance.

 

[Wyatt Morga]

Wyatt could sense them -

Perhaps not in the way one could smell prey, nor could he even see them; but the Force spoke to Wyatt in a way that many couldn’t understand. A whisper on the wind, the casual gesture it imposed on him ran a cold chill up his spine - and after a few moments, he knew who they were, and where they were; but if he let loose to either of those following him, he’d put them all in greater danger than needed.

Instead, he held his hand near his lightsaber and focused - waiting for them to attack. The two that dropped were closest, and in a flash of blue his lightsaber came to life and ripped through flesh and cloth - leaving nothing but smoke and cries of pain through the air. They were killed before they even had a chance to touch the ground, but he had to move quick to stop the other five from overpowering the others.

The Force moved to his beck and call, a complementary relationship that never relied on dominance, but a dance between him and the all encompassing nature of the universe - and one of the raiders flew off his feet towards him. Telekinesis, a skill Wyatt was on par with some of the best, allowed him to rip the warrior from his feet and find his way skewered on his lightsaber.

A snap of deactivation, and he fell to the ground in a slump.

Wyatt glanced to his side as a surge of pain ran through him - and only then did he realize there was a very subtle cut on his arm; and he could feel the poison begin to strike through him. He moved a hand to it, forcing it to heal to cover what was otherwise a superficial incident, and began to focus -

He had to get to the greater group before the poison spread.

“Are you guys alright?”, he said with a glance between his apprentice and Markus.

[member="Bernard of Arca"] │ [member="Marcus Itera"] │ [member="Cedric Grayson"]

 

[Marcus Itera]

The arrival of the Jedi's apprentice was noted, with Marcus sending the younger man a respectful nod of the head. Two of them complicated things quite nicely, though. Marcus never even expected to meet the first Jedi before he reached Cedric.

"Just an old friend of mine." Was all he provided, his voice breaking the silence. "Been a while."

Before either of the Jedi could muster a response or question for their newfound companion, a chill cut through the air like a bad joke. Marcus caught the pair perking up, their innate senses giving away the telltale sign of danger as hands reached for their lightsabers - eyes darting to the thick underbrush and foliage. The sunlight that cut through the treetops flickered as a gust of air rustled the plantlife around them, masking the sound of whoever or whatever was approaching.

Then they came.

Bloodcurdling squeals and cries of war. The Flesh Raiders dropped from branches, clad in the trappings of warriors and clutching primitive weaponry that oozed. That part worried Marcus. The snap-hiss of waking lightsabers was joined by the clicking back of hammers as the bounty hunter drew both of the revolvers from his gunbelt, standing firm in the middle of their motley formation.

There was no art form in this, there was no deep connection to some holy power from the gods. Just a man clutching iron.

Shots rang out, sending slugs deep into the charging ranks of raiders. Some were eviscerated cleanly by blade, and other died violently as bullets tore through their chests and abdomens, collapsing in bloodied heaps. Two were silenced instantly by Wyatt, three more died by projectile wound, and the last pair were presumably being handled by the younger Jedi.

"Dammit," the hunter snarled as he watched the eldest Jedi fall to the ground. "Can ya walk?"

Marcus moved forward to cover his body, kneeling with his revolvers still trained on the brush surrounding them.

"If you can't, I'll have to carry your heavy sheb through this." He grunted. "Heard you wizard folks can heal yourselves."

[member="Wyatt Morga"], [member="Bernard of Arca"], [member="Cedric Grayson"]

 

[Jegy Sesara]

The droid to say the least was...strange. The Sullustan never really understood them, save for one over the course of his entire lifetime. They were enigmas, strong in strength and/or knowledge but never with morality or compassion. They were always a lifeless husk and is given great consideration of their duties as any moment, they can be destroyed in an instant. What a shame, to be made into a droid, to have a brain, to have thought. What a terrible curse that had been laid upon this droid, what a terrible way to live.

Names were exchanged during this time, discussions over what would happen to their companions as the silent hum of the lightsaber before him and the lights from their fellow droid named Dak, along with his datapads light would remain. The whispers were slightly strong as the one named Cedric mentioned to move towards it as the Sullustan merely nodded, taking the first steps forward as it seemed to react to the Sullustan more violently, as if unsure what to make of him. The Sullustan had more than once, encountered the unnatural and to those, the unexplained nature of the Force. To him, it was an adventure that sought him time and time again, as if saying that more work had to be done. Finally he would speak up, his voice a bit more gentleman like and his stumble reduced to nothing, the affects of the alcohol had now worn off, the Force around him seemed to be even brighter than before, even if it felt uncontrolled.

"A pleasure...I am the Sh....know what, screw it. My name is Jegy Sesara, I am a Doctor among...other things."

He chose not to reveal much about himself, always knowing that more that is known about him, the more questions that generally was lead to be asked. Moving a bit further down, the whispers turned into a voice, the Dark Side itself seeming to radiate moreso onto the Flesh Raiders above...and the one before them, Jegy. The voices would start speaking things that could be considered unusual, things of death, the fault of many, blind faith, eternal bonds, some directed to the Flesh Raiders, some directed to the Sullustan. Finally, Jegy would stop along the pathway to stare at a set of eyes, as if something of his past had come to haunt him once more. Slowly it would march down, a rather tall human as it wailed something horrible yet at that moment, a bright light would illuminate from the Sullustans right hand.

The human shaped figure would turn into almost a wraith like form in the Force, going backwards into its section of the passageway. It would shriek loudly as the Sullustan held up his right hand, palm outstretched as the light would shine brighter, forcing it back as it screeched even louder but all around them, the Dark Side would be diminished, even if for a brief period of time. The light protruding from the Sullustans right hand felt of the Light Side of the Force, no emotion, no hatred, nothing but the act of law, the attempt to bring one home. After half a minute, the wraith like Force Ghost would shove itself into a wall, going through it as the light from the Sullustans hand would fade away, the smell of burnt flesh would only remain afterwards as the Sullustans right hand would be blackened in flesh, as if saying he was not pure enough to do this, to be a Warrior of the Light. Pushing his sleeve back, he would stare at it and gently focused on the Force, rejuvenating his flesh as it slowly healed, speaking out loud as his eyes glanced at Cedric and his lightsaber.

"It saddens me to say I have no sword to banish those back to the Force...do you know what I done though I wonder? Making the light in the Force?"

[member="Cedric Grayson"]
[member="Dak"]

 

[Dak]

[member="Jegy Sesara"] | [member="Cedric Grayson"]​

​

[SIZE=10pt]Droids were blind to the Force in both body and mind, and thus Dak was unable to see the apparition that presented itself to the others. Despite this, he still understood the nature of what was happening around him – his time spent among Jedi had broadened his perspective and made such curiosities less anomalous to him over time.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10pt]The Force was a mystifying power that transcended logic and the fragile understanding of the Universe that most sentients held onto. It was out of his reach, he knew, and he had come to accept that.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10pt]He watches from a few meters behind the Sullustan with his finger on the trigger, ready to open fire should the manifestation somehow extend into reality. He could tell from Jegy’s reactions that this experience, whatever it may be, was not welcoming of uninvited guests.[/SIZE]

 

[Alyson Halle]

The flesh raiders could speak, that was new. She had never seen either of these groups before, how they had eluded her rather conclusive searches was beyond her. There was sometthing new going on here. That was no matter now, she had a fight to win. "Sorry, but I cannot in my right mind run until I measure my opponent!"

She would quickly learn to bite these words. The force energies flowing into this man were chaotic and dark. It was raw potential that allowed him to do this, raw potential the likes of which she had never seen before. The wave let out, and Alyson used to at the same time, brace her position, and to let out a stream of energy of her own, in an attempt to counterbalance the strong energies blasting for her position. The wall held, for a time, but crumbled before the worst of it was done, knocking Alyson back quite a few feet.

She quickly used the tendrils of the force to launch herself upward, using the extra time to perfect a still somewhat sloppy landing. "Alright I believe that is appropriate measurement." Alyson muttered to herself. "EVERYONE THROUGH THE HOLE, WE ARE FALLING BACK!"

She knew where Cedric was, she could sense his presence, the only matter was finding a way down there. That would be troublesome. She didn't have time to think about that now. She was getting the hell out of here.

[member="Pom Stych Tivé"] [member="Loske Matson"]

 

[Loske Treicolt]

On two accounts, she felt rather sheepish. One, [member="Pom Stych Tivé"] seemed capable of walking around metaphysically flicking arrowheads out of thin air, and two, she hadn't realized the Rakata were working in their favour until the agitated holler alerted her such was the case.

"Ah kriff," she huffed in response to the aggregate realization. Then there was a telekinetic blast that scoured the vicinity, ravaging its own players in the game alongside the intended targets. The reality of having to run was undeniable, and although her hands were tingling and ready to be used, her feet were more prepared. Hubris would cause waste here, to the helpful indigenous who were risking themselves for them. "Next time, for sure. We gotta jet." She pointed to the hole, which was really obvious now that she'd seen it, that she missed earlier and reached for Pomsy as enough of a get going indicator. She cast a wayward glance to seek out [member="Alyson Halle"], but it seemed in a leap-frog fashion the Jedi Master had reached the same conclusion. Thank goodness.

A medley of salvo and more melee weapons peppered in their direction, darkening the skies in a clash of fury and frustrations between technology and heritage. For now, it seemed Pom was particularly good at diverting any that would have skewered either of the women in a rather unfavourable way.

Bodies rolled over one another like a waves in a washing machine, torrents of animosity and weapons. Her fists clenched as she ran, slid, and other contorted movements to avoid being pegged with the aim of the nasties. There were some blasters in the mix she could visualize, and help the Rakata with. A telekinetic crunch, reaching through the mixture and closing off the barrel so the metal closed in on itself, firing backward or imploding in the weilder’s hands.

Meanwhile, those blind followers of the hooded fellow that had dropped to their knees seemed rather perturbed the Jedi Master that had formerly been engaged with their commander had decided to retreat. They were...armed better than their comrades. With more advanced technology than shears and spears. Still kneeled, they moved to lift their blasters, using both hands to brace the weight and took aim at the Jedi (and the witch - Jedi by their standard) their foolish brethren had elected to aide. Loske and Pom had almost made it to that hole. With a skid, the blonde found herself behind Pom, giving a rather force-aided push to project the other woman forward and out of harm’s way as soon as the blaster fire opened.

Thankfully, Loske was close on the tail of getting through the hole, and was probably going to be able to make it save for getting clipped through her oblique while trying to stretch after pushing Pom through. Alyson had handled herself.

Suddenly, with only a heartbeat of a warning that something was wrong, her run stopped, and she dropped to her knees, yelping in pain and surprise. One of those shots hit target, searing through her oblique and tearing through her torso with ghastly, hot precision. On the grass, the odour of dirt, blood, and burnt flesh and clothes was ghastly, and not something she’d felt before. The pain was on a similar spectrum of the electrocutions she’d been victim to before, and it was ferociously disorienting. That gap was so close, and at the same time, just..not. Clambering to stand, she attempted a lunge only to be stomped down by a menacingly stalwart opponent, who was thumping his scythe in his hand, blocking the way through that precious escape.

“Kriff again.” She muttered, awkwardly looking up from her table-top position and feeling that same, alarming radiation at the back of her neck which alerted her, and imbued those muscles of hers to roll to the side to get away from that downward strike of the scythe.

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

And we were back to NOT doing stuff…that fast. Pom raised a brow oddly at the quick call to retreat. They really don't seem to want her help. She never faced a no win situation, and still she would not make that determination. The energy from blasters she can manage, but a barrage of slugs from crudely fashioned throwers, she could not justify any solid guarantee. She never understood the mindset of those who prefer melee weapons, the whole deal just seems too messy. Maybe Pomsty does have a sense of compassion for her victims afterall? She is quick and clean about killing.

She thought it best to fight in the open, than to become trapped inside the underground tunnels with their new friends following. "You want us to go in there?" she asked as a huge wave of only partially sentient humanoid animals crested and poured over the edge of her vision. "Ah!" she exclaimed, catching a clue.

Would the ape-types respond to a display of magick? Pom started pondering if she could do anything to mesmerize them. The idea hit her…

But she soon learned that just within the opening [member="Alyson Halle"] had uncovered, [member="Loske Matson"] had been hit. Not only that, the beast which chased after them had the Jedi Knight pinned. Pomsty turned to face the animal and brought her hands together in fists and twisted each in opposite directions as she quickly whispered her incantation. The neck of the beast that cornered Loske twisted until she heard it crack. Immediately Pomsty grabbed hold of Loske and Alyson, Apparating the lot into thin air. She maneuvered them quickly into the nearest tunnel. She watched over her shoulder as the Flesh Raiders stopped and stood stunned for a moment, looking around. Behind her where the animals stood, the Nightsister generated an Illusion of an even bigger beast, which roared as it appeared to be running towards the mouth of the hole at the Flesh Raiders who scattered away from it.

Pomsty Apparated the two Jedi through the dark tunnel as far as she could, until where the tunnels became collapsed, and the sounds of the Flesh raiders at the opening faded away. She then stopped, depositing Loske gently upon the ground to assess her condition, illuminating the tunnel with a ball of light from her hands.

"Let's have a look," she said to Loske.

 

[Draconis Caesar]

Draconis stared boredly out the drop ship's bay window port. The landscape and forest fauna zipped by at break neck speeds. They were aboard one of the Golden company's light dropships. The pilots were more used to breaching war torn planets atmosphere's, dropping to the earth like a meteor, rather than peacefully descending through the stratosphere like a feather. As a result the drop ships occupants were jostled about and anything that had failed to be tied down was now cascading through the air, hazarding all within. For most this was not a problem, as most within were Sun Guard initiates, clad in golden power armor and armed to the teeth. However for a select few, such as the scientist the mercenaries had been paid to protect, this all made for one very uncomfortable journey...

"Blurgh!"

Draconis's head swiveled slightly to inspect the source of the noise. What he found was quite comical, but none of the troop dare laugh. Draconis was the lead of this operation and while only a initiate, he ran a tight ship, taking his duty very seriously. A scientist had taken off his helmet once they were within the planets oxygenated space and had begun vomiting within it profusely. Draconis released the handle which he grasped and began walking towards the poor wretch, his mag boots keeping him secure in his movement as he did so. He grabbed hold a bucket along the path to the man and upon reaching him placed a hand to the seated scientist shoulder. He pushed the bucket towards the egg head whilst retrieving the man's helmet with the other hand.

The man looked to him through watered eyes and silently thanked the act of kindness with a nod before resuming the act of disheveling the bucket. Draconis took the helmet and handed it to one of the initiates.

"Clean this," He commanded in a stern voice.

The Sun Guard promise took the helmet and bowed his head slightly to his superior in a silent salute of acknowledgment. He raced to the dropships rear where he would begin the methodical task of making the helmet usable again. Draconis and nine other initiates had been hired to guard a small group of four archaeologist while they searched for an ancient Jedi artifact. The scientist had refused to divulge much about their expedition, but did offer a handsome sum of money. Enough for Golden Company to not ask to many question. So as they made way to the landing zone, Draconis and most of the other initiates remained silent.

It wasn't long however before things went from exceptionally peaceful to dangerously violent. Out of nowhere a unguided rocket came barreling out of the foliage. It smacked into the dropship's wing and the craft began spiraling out of control. The initiates and scientist were hard pressed to maintain balance. Alarms roared within the personnel bay and smoke began to fill the room. Red flashing lights were blinking all around and the sound of screeching metal could be heard as the damaged wing finally gave way. Draconis fought gravity's inertia as he trudged towards the cockpit. He passed the scientist and saw that most had passed out in their seats from the downward spiral. He pushed forward further and glimpsed out the window only to see the earth growing larger and larger at an alarming rate.

He had to get to the cockpit. Now.

He ran forth with all his might. Assisted by the power armor's hydraulics and thruster pack he was able to reach the pilot's room just in the nick of time. The window had a large crack in it which diminished vision, but even so Draconis could see that they were headed straight for ground nose first. He had to fight the darkness creeping at the edge of his vision. His chest heaved in great bouts as he choked on the thinning air. The pilots were both dead or unconscious. Draconis sluggishly shoved aside the pilots chair and the thing toppled over sending it's inhabitant sprawling across the deck. He yanked hard on the yoke with all his strength forcing the craft to turn upwards, but without it's other wing it would not completely rise. They reached the cap of the forest and the trees limbs began tearing at the hull dangerously.

The craft hit earth and slid several hundred meters. The good wing snapped off as the drop ship spun on it's side before crashing into a pair of large boulders and stopping completely. Draconis was launched from his standing position even with his mag boots activated. He went flying through the window and crashed upon the earth hard. He tasted copper in his mouth and his whole body ached. Darkness ate the corner of his sight and he quickly fainted from pain and exhaustion...

 

[Placeholder 0128]

Something unholy stirred ahead of them.

Cedric was a pace or so behind [member="Jegy Sesara"], but he could sense the creature just as well as he could see it. The Bogan swirled about it, the specter a remnant of some long forgotten malignancy. It stared back at the group, then asJegy began to approach, simply phased through a nearby wall.

Cedric's brow furrowed.

"I'm not keen on spirits," he grumbled, gaze shifting to the Sullustan. "And no, I don't know what you've done Jegy, aside from singe yourself." Cedric grimaced as he eyed the man's gnarled hand. His worry was abated as the Sullustan healed the wound with quick ease - something that was beyond the Jedi Master's own abilities.

"Don't let anything sneak up on us [member="Dak"]," he added as he trudged forward, taking point as he followed after the spirit. The path ahead opened rather quickly. A pale blue light flickered out from a room just beyond, and from it the shadows beckoned. "Let's be careful here. I sense a trap."

Cedric stepped through the portal.

The room was a massive circular chamber forged of ancient masonry. In its center sat what looked to be a tomb, and several mounds of rotted skeletons were arrayed before it. The skeletons hailed from many species, from Flesh Raider to Ortolans. Several torches flickered on the walls, their flames bright blue, and giving off cold rather than heat. Cedric felt the temperature drop by several dozen degrees as he stepped through, his breath expelling in white puffs.

Something within the tomb stirred - a loud thump came from within. Cedric exchanged glances with his companions. "This is no Jedi's resting place," he mused with concern as he approached the tomb...

---------

Above, the old lord roared in frustration as his quarry seemed to vanish into nothingness. The Dashade bellowed his rage, and elected to take it out on the handful of renegades that still stood against his warriors. Those rogue flesh raiders that did not immediately flee were swiftly butchered, their deaths far more brutal than they had to be. Body parts and viscera lined the temple ground by the time the old lord was finished with his work.

"I have had enough of these heretics," he hissed to his closest lieutenants. "You have found their village?"

One of the raiders - slightly more intelligent than the rest - spoke in broken basic. "It not far. Not know where it be to exactness, but it be near. Me will find them master. Only need blessing."

The Dashade sneered. "You have it. Hunt down the stragglers. They will lead us to their home."

-----------------​

Meanwhile, old one eye was busy staring in disbelief at [member="Loske Matson"], [member="Alyson Halle"], and [member="Pom Stych Tivé"] after having been unceremoniously deposited in the tunnels by the hand of some unseen god. He'd never seen such magick as he had today, though his wonder was quickly replaced with panic. They were within the tunnels. This was where the tombs were held.

One-Eye grimaced.

"Why here?" His voice was a low growl. "We leave my people to die after they come to save you. A jetti cowards?" He seemed outraged, the thick veins beneath his blackened skull popping out through the flesh. "They not escape without Jedi help. Be slaughtered. Why do we leave them?"

One-Eye peered down at Loske's wounded form. There was the slightest hint of sympathy in his alien gaze, but it did not calm his rage. "I must go. Find way out, save my people." He grumbled, standing up to find his path back up from the tunnel blocked by a cave-in. He knew this area well. He'd been born in these tunnels.

"RAARGH!" He roared as he pulled in vain at the many rocks guarding his path. After a few moments of trying, One-Eye became aware that his efforts were entirely in vain. He turned back to the group. "Fix girl, keep from dead," he pointed a talon at Loske, "Then back to my village. Healers fix rest. I know way."

-------​

Out in the depths of the forest, the clade that assaulted [member="Marcus Itera"], [member="Marcus Itera"], and [member="Bernard of Arca"] were dealt with. The surviving hunters knew when they were outmatched. If they could not kill the jetii in an ambush now, then it would have to be done later. A standing fight here would just get them killed. The glorified beasts lowered their voices as they tried to withdraw, scuttling off into the underbrush in search of the rest of their comrades. They would be back, and in far greater numbers.

The sudden stillness of the forest was interrupted by a loud, nearly deafening crash. Trees collapsed en masse as a large vessel careened through the canopy, eventually coming to land in a flaming heap in a clearing betwixt the forests. Flames licked up from the shattered vehicle as the dust settled. It likely wouldn't remain whole for long, but anyone could with a lick of power in the Force could sense life ([member="Draconis Caesar"]) within. Whether the group would choose to actually assist this life form was still up in the air.

 

[Alyson Halle]

The teleportation was abrupt and violent. Alyson had to use the force to suppress the urge to simply vomit on the spot. Apparition was the way of the shadows, not something Alyson desired to be versed in. She had intended to help the flesh raiders in their retreat, hence why she ordered them through the hole, but the witch had other ideas. It was probably for the best, for Loske was on the verge of a rather gruesome end, had the teleportation not been done.

He closed her eye for a moment, realigning herself with the force. She used the location of the blade of Ruusan to orient herself, its strong force energies acting as a light house of sorts. It seemed she was in the tunnels, and the Light Sided Rakata leader had been teleported with them. Loske was hurt, bad, she needed urgent medical attention. Alyson knew how to heal, but they didn't have the time to use the force or the equipment to properly heal the wound. Alyson could probably heal it enough to get her moving. Fighting would be another story.

There was much to do and not much time to do it. Every moment wasted was a moment which put the Friendly Flesh Raider villiage in danger. They had to move.

"I did not intend to flee, our guest had other ideas. Probably for the best however, It appears that Loske here was on her last legs." Alyson said. "We need to get her walking and then we need to get moving. I know where Cedric is, I can probably navigate us to him, but it will take time. After that, we need to move as quickly as we can to your village." She continued, looking to the Flesh Raider. "It is in grave danger."

She used the force, knowing Cedrics location, to build a telepathic bond with [member="Cedric Grayson"]. It was something she had done many times, but it is not something she preferred doing. She didn't have much of a choice.

Your apprentice is wounded. The witch teleported us into the tunnels, we are going to try and meet up with you. Flesh Raiders in brown robes are friendly, black are not. Beware Dashade. Extremely dangerous, avoid at all costs.

That should do for now.

She then moved over to [member="Loske Matson"].

"Allow me to see your wounds dear, I will try my best to get you moving, but we don't have the time to heal it fully." She said in a soft voice.

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Wow wow wow this was a lot to react to. The scythe was a narrow miss, and the twist to avoid it had shot agony through her tissues. Her head was pounding, and she was going to have a heck of a time defending herself, and before she could reach for her blaster in an attempt of self defence, [member="Pom Stych Tivé"] turned back to her rescue. The spectacle of the neck twisting and sound of bones splintering was ghastly up close. She didn't have long to dwell on what she was seeing when all of a sudden she was seeing something completely different. Still felt terrible, though. Defensively, her hands were cupped around the gaping hole.

Cradled and at the whim of other's touch, Loske found herself mostly wincing and struggling to right herself to a sitting position. Her abdomen angrily cautioned against it, physically rebuking her to the point where she could only gasp in frustrated pain. From her perspective, they'd been outside, outnumbered by the belligerent Rakata, and now they were somewhere dark. With far less noise, and hostility all around. It wasn't really until her new friend created a sphere with helpful phosphorescence that she could squint to infer they were somewhere with a lot of rock. Probably caves. Seemed cave-like. She felt really woozy. Despite the blaster wound being instantly seared and fiery, it was Rakata tech, and part of the self-contained magnetic field that had pierced her body contained fractoids of dark side energy, which was spreading more harm than the actual encapsulated plasma bolt.

"Augh," she grimaced, looking to the raven-haired woman as the one-eyed (bulging, might we add) Rakata leaned in to scold and investigate, and then turn away and angrily direct everyone to do something. Alyson was trying to smooth things over between the actions, and the Rakata's explanations. Loske could only react to all the individuals that were paying attention to her, which made it uncomfortable. Her voice was low, she was trying to regulate her breath..."This is a lot of attention..It's probably going to be fine."

She pulled the hand away, on both Pom and [member="Alyson Halle"]'s request to reveal the atrocious cauterized wound stretching to create a black crater where clean flesh should have been. "Goonnnaa be fine.. thank you" she feigned, and feeling particularly dizzy as she pressed her hands to the ground, again looking to shift her weight from the awkward, serendipitous, rock she'd been propped up against to sit on her own. Her heels scraped against the cavern floor, as if preparing to stand. Again, her core rejected it. Ah kriff. It was somewhat disorienting, but reassuring to hear Allyson (who had just been a super warrior) refer to her with as endearing a term as dear. But that also set off alarms that she looked as bad, or worse, than she felt. She felt pretty numb, other than the...scorching pain.

Still, a wan smirk found a way to creep to her lips and she flicked her gaze toward [member="Pom Stych Tivé"]

"Can you snap this away too?"

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

The Jedi party leader spoke of helping the half-wit/barbarian/someone who has a poor grasp on basic cyclops?? She couldn’t figure him out. But having an upbringing herself upon Dathomir she had an inkling to not judge too harshly, her own accent still thick and rather unique to any region of the galaxy. The idea so foreign to her is that of concern over those she has no prior attachment; even while among the CIS, her involvement only concerned furthering her coven’s interests or her faction’s peace directly. In it, the only change of heart she ever had from her Dathomiri upbringing, was her understanding and acceptance that slavery is wrong. At that moment when she listened to the local resident speak and she heard [member="Alyson Halle"] reply, the Nightsister actually recognized that her emotions of concern and selflessness which stirred strongly within her heart were absolutely alien to her before now. Perplexed, she suddenly wondered from where the hell they pour forth from! Are these actually her’s?

The explosion of the dropship rocked the underground foundation and kneeling next to the young Jedi, she bent over [member="Loske Matson"] to shield her wound from the dust which broke loose from the cavern walls. The Nightsister knew they would have to face their adversary not long from now. The young girl is clearly brave and attempted to rise a few times again offering to risk her life to fight. “ I can help her, if you need to return to the surface,” she said to the Jedi leader, “In time we can catch up.”

With her demonic god angry at her for her current choices and Ashla forbidding her communion with him, Pom would need to rely on her stash of Spirit of Ichor in her Talismans to accomplish her magick. She had enough to be an army sewn into her vest. The only time she ever shed it would be nestled inside the safety of her own home. Once the Talismans are empty, she shall receive no more magick from this angry god, for Pom has forsaken him first by remaining to dwell among the Jedi sanctuary on Coruscant, the Ashla having torn her away from her world at a critical turning point without warning, leaving Pom requiring temporary seclusion foremost.

Witnessing Locke’s pain and the severity of her wound, she immediately went to work. She set the glowing orb to hang in the air above them and the Potions Mistress reached into her bandolier sewn inside her vest and withdrew the correct potion, as usual without fumbling through them for they each having unique properties are stored in order and memorized. She raised the vial to her eyes to view it and pop the cork with her thumb. She smelled it and whispered into it and it began to glow, its magickal properties activated.

Pom began to hum and sing softly as she trickled the tincture over the gaping wound while setting her other hand to radiate her intent into the damaged cell structure. Weave...