Marriskcal Lati, Civilian
Objective: #2; Et tu, Skywalker?
Equipment: Lightsaber x2 (Cyan & Azure), Throwing Knives, Hairsticks x2, Attire (made from shell spider silk)
Location: Jedi Temple (Council Chamber), Mountain Range, Tython
Interacting with: Seto Du Couteau | ST-00/0666
At the gentle rebuke, Marriskcal averted her gaze away from her brother in a pretense of making a sweep around the chamber, her lips curving into a faint pout. It was not as though she had purposely scuffed that particular pair of shoes! The tunnel was old and dilapidated, filled with dust and dirt. And white was such an easy colour to stain.
A torrent of laser fire began to fill the vast space, the barrage of toxic green light taking down those who were unfortunate enough to be severely wounded or dazed by the explosion from earlier. The blonde watched with keen curiousity as Seto flickered past her, the edges of her long coat fluttering as he moved forward to parry a strike from his chosen victim, trapping the vermin within a sphere of his making.
“Well, it was not like I had a sabre a moment ago,” the young woman reminded Seto, her eyes falling on the lightsaber that was laying in its dead master’s grasp. With a tendril of a thought, the Makashi-styled hilt rose and flew into her hand. There was a slight disturbance in the flow of the Force as the crystal resisted her claim upon it, but as Marriskcal has never once owned a hilt with a crystal that resonated with her, she crushed and suppressed its feeble voice with her will.
In time, it would quiet.
Just like the crystal she has acquired from the Jedi Archivist.
The blonde swivelled on her heels, so that she was guarding her brother’s back from any who was foolish enough to charge through the unrelenting hail of laser in hopes of aiding their trapped comrade. While there was a chance that Seto may need more than one being before he was found the location of the artefact depository, she doubted her brother would mind it very much if she were to tear through a few of the less important beings.
“But now I do~” Marriskcal continued in a joyous lilt, though her cheer was interposed by a soft noise of displeasure when she noticed the beads of crimson that stained the ivory bone and engraved silver of the lightsaber. Even though her hands were protected by the leather gloves she wore, the blonde still held a distaste for the stickiness of blood when it began to congeal. But despite the mild annoyance, there was nothing to done about her own faint need for cleanliness for the time being.
She hummed a jaunty tune, hilt in a light grip as she carefully watched the two remaining council members that were trapped at the far end of the chamber. From the piercing tang of pain and bitter cloud of futility that coloured their aura, Marriskcal knew at least one of them were severely injured and they were both losing hope. Even then, when the thud and clatter of a body hitting the ground reached her ears, the young woman continue to stay vigil. Jedi were tricky little pests, and there was nothing quite like desperation to bring out their hypocrisy.
Mm, I will try my best, she assured her brother with fond exasperation shading her thought. The servants of Du Couteau has mentioned something about… silk? All Marriskcal remembered was that it had some protective qualities to it. It was then that she felt the same flame that she has memorised since their brief conversation back on base. The voice and words that followed made her turn despite the inherent danger still within the hall with her, a sharp smile in place as she caught the familiar set of weaponry in hand. “Thank you, Beast.”
Good hunting, Seto.
With the last of her thoughts conveyed to her brother, the blonde stepped further into the chamber, buckling the holster carrying her hilt and knives back to a thigh. Trusting in Seto, Beast, and the rest of the stormtroopers assigned to the operation to successfully carry out their secondary objective, her blue gaze swept across the ruined Council Chamber for one final time.
As her senses were unfettered, Marriskcal could sense the bright flames of the vermin dissipating one by one as their lives were slowly reaped by the Imperial forces. Her gaze fell to the unconscious male on the ground and with a quick flick of a hand, one of the slim knives buried itself deep in his throat. He probably would not wake in time before the Temple was destroyed by the orbital bombardment, but the young woman was never a believer in leaving loose ends.
With a swift series of hand signals from her, the remnants of the small team that were keeping the two remaining Jedi Masters afar slowly retreated from the hall, rejoining their brethren to hasten the journey towards the artefact depository. Time was swiftly running low, and Marriskcal preferred to be far far away from the Temple before the first of the star destroyer’s lasers cut through the atmosphere.
Unlike the meek veneer she wore when she first entered the chamber, her eyes were narrowed in clear annoyance when the older pair stepped out from behind the debris, their mouth open in an attempt to negotiate or censure. “Raise your blades, Jedi. I am not interested in listening to anything you have to say,” she spoke in a low tone, the hiss of her voice venomous as it flowed over the most hated word of her existence. While she may have abandoned her once Lord and Master, a lifetime worth of learned animosity was difficult to discard.
Edited by Marriskcal Lati, 18 April 2019 - 11:57 AM.