[ And so the journey begins. Three Separate stories to tell here all happening Simultaneously. Attacking from three fronts, is this the beginning of the end for The Nine? Please Like, Share, and Follow us! We are hoping to get new people coming our way, and could use the love! Thank you everyone!!!!! ]
[ L. K ] Once the door was demolished and sent flying out into the other part of the crypt they would notice something very interesting indeed; the blood was gone. The previous room that was where the massive head had been was empty and all that remained was a simple stone room with a stairway up.
The group had no time for delay, they had to move quickly, and since the stairs were no longer a sliding board the would have no problem getting out. Once they reached the top the would notice that the sky was black and the massive tentacle worms were flying across the sky.
Take to the trees. The group raced away from the crypt in an attempt to put some distance between them and the horrible place. But once they were finally safely away from their hell on earth; the reality sunk in. What would they do now.
“We need a place to stay, somewhere we can repair and heal. Raven needs energy, and Marseille needs some serious medical attention. And it’s about time that boy got a proper meal. We can’t return to Quelthalas, if we do it will spell disaster. We all look like convicts. And we need to make contact with survivors....Siida...”.
Lazarius eyes narrowed as he clenched them tightly. Losing both sisters. He was certainly a mess.
[ R ] The redheaded woman was unresponsive in Lazarius’ hold. Her slender form wrapped in cloth that left only hear bare feet and shoulders with bra straps exposed, leaving much to the imagination.
At first, if through the panic and chaos any took notice, one might note beneath the mess of black blood all over her, her skin was darkened and the veins that could be seen were blackened. Her skin had split in some areas, evident by the blotches of black soaked through various points of the cloth.
Was she breathing?
It looked as if Laz returned with a dead body. Not a peep came from her as he clutched and ran holding her. Her thick red hair covering up half-elven ears.
By the time they reached the outside world and were breaking through the tree-line to cover, all of those signs of void corruption had faded from her body and any void she was emitting was dormant.
[ P . K ] Here he had been. Minding his own business. Cozied up in his small hut within the depths of the Ghostlands. He liked it here. It was oddly peaceful despite the badies within the woods. His favorite tavern was here, too and it made easy trek into the city if he needed supplies. He’d been in this small hut for… too long.
Anytime he began to think about how long his mood soured and he fell into a depression. But not today. He had hunted a lynx that morning, skinned it bare to sell its pelt, then gutted it, readying it for his dinner. Just as he was about to pour himself a steaming bowl of lynx and veggie stew, the rumbling started.
The red head was immediately on edge, tensing, a sense of gloom and doom overwhelming him a moment as memories began flooding back. No, this wasn’t happening. This place of his, this sanctuary he built, it was peaceful here. Then he heard voices over his crackling flame coming from the direction of the crypts.
The few people who would venture that area were usually experiences archaeologists and explorers. And so, his dinner interrupted, the man grabbed his daggers and headed toward that direction. A few minutes later… The red-haired male would easily be seen along the tree line, not hiding himself at all.
He never felt the need to in this area, finding most things barely able to call themselves threats. But what he saw, the mangled group, left him confused.
“What in the bloody. . . is this? Are… are you all o---“
He stopped dead, blinking once, twice,
“Teacup?”
He said quietly, realizing the blonde… was the spirited elf he’d met many months ago. The tall, lanky, tattoo-covered, red-headed elf gaped at the group, seemingly in shock.
[ V . D ] The fresh air had certainly done wonders to alleviate the tension for both kaldorei and sindorei, Pame shaking from exhaustion with all the consistent excitement... Verzatea was shaking as well, although her shaking more so had to do with the wave of tears rolling down her cheeks as she endured Lazarius's recant of their situation.
Things were looking terribly bleak for them in this moment, and all she could think about was the horrors those in the Bastille must have endured. If it were anything like what their small and disheveled group experienced in the tombs she could only pity those who remained alive. If any did.
But first and foremost the issue of a safe space was a prominent concern before all else. Without a place to rest they could all die here and now in these woods. They were vulnerable bring exhausted, the wounded wouldn't survive long in this chill either... But the stench of ichor and rotting flesh and other unidentifiable offense odors was replaced with a peculiar smell.
Something that tickled an old memory in the far back of her mind... It was then that she'd lift her eyes to inspect the woods, her breath hitching in her throat before Verzatea mentions, her voice a ghost of a whisper as she tried to remember,
"This place... It's familar-- Like walking through a memory."
Only then did the appearance of Kretus stir the two elven women from their state of dismay. Pame stiffened and bore her fangs in a threatening snarl, her grip on Mars tightening-- until Verzatea audibly.gasps in astonishment!
"Kretus!"
She breathes out, relief swelling in her chest to see such a familiar and friendly face,
"By the Shadows, what are you doing this far out?"
Her lip quivers as she stumbles closer, her normally straight blonde hair frazzled and tousled about wildly with blood matting some tresses together. Too her dress skirts were soaked around the bottom of in a similar blood-- fel, everyone was soaked likely.. Resembling the devils rejects no doubt.
[ P . K ] Kretus immediately moves forward upon her stumble, attempting to sling both arms under hers and tugging her to his chest in order to keep her from falling. Gods, they all looked a hot mess.
“I... live... out here,”
He replies absently to her inquiry as his golden eyes moved to each individual in her party of misfits.
“You all look as if N’zoth himself beat you up and dragged you through a pool of blood.”
[ L. K ] Lazarius would have probably just burst into attack mode on this stranger; had he not had his hands full with the blanketed Raven. She was curled up in his arms and he was unable to really do much, but all things considered he would have not given this man a second look if he was free.
"Verzatea, might we focus please. . . I am assuming you know this fire haired country boy. . . introductions can wait."
He huffed, making sure Raven was secure and calling over to the man.
"While I am all for sentimental reunions; you have hit the nail on the head my friend. . . Oddly square on the head. . . that is exactly what just happened. . . in every sense of the word."
Lazarius would take several steps closer, past Marseille and Pame, around Jursol and her raptors and beside Verza and the boy she carried. He would look the man square in the eye with those ancient blackened pools.
"We need a place to lay low, recover and take inventory on what exactly we are doing. . ."
He peered toward Verza.
"Familiar how, if you know someone who has a large enough facility for us to find refuge we need it. We're losing valuable time."
[ J ] Once outside she took to the trees to move, her raptors remained low but were cunning little fucks. They would easily avoid detection. Following the others in silence as they made their way to their destination. While she did not know where they were going, she fully trusted them.
She had at some point spaces out follows them, before hearing a strange elf yelling. There were no words yet from her as she watched and listened to the other talking. Her eyes glanced at Mars as she moved to help Pame with him.
“He be needin help now.”
Her words were few but she knew Pame understood. Jursol was ready to lend a hand with his wounds, and with a nasty tasting concoction that would help.
[ P . K ] The red head scowled, mouthing the words, fire haired country boy with a bemused look on his face. As the male came closer, he squinted a moment, locking gazes. Why does he look familiar?
Kretus didn’t have time to ponder nor did he seem startled at Lazarius’ blunt reply of how right he had been on his observation. His Adam’s apple merely bobbed as he swallowed hard, and then he cleared his throat.
“I have a hut nearby with medical supplies, food, blankets, so on and so forth. I just did a supply run to the city two days hence. Come. It’s just a few minutes from here near the river edge....”
[ L. K ] "I have a man with a missing arm, and teeth marks in his chest cavity. . .have you ever seen a twelve foot tall human head with a centipede body? He was devoured by it. . ."
Lazarius snapped, giving the man a stern look from his blood covered face.
"A comatose boy who has been out cold for several hours and is probably going to need a complete frontal lobe lobotomy. . .and this specimen I have quite literally plucked from an alternate reality who is going to die lest she feed on the raw dark energy of the cosmos. . . .and you've got a 'hut' was it?"
Lazarius peered down at Verza with another glance.
"Don't you have family somewhere around here? You were off for nearly two months visiting them. . . I thought you said the Duskflame Estate was somewhere on the border of the Ghostlands and Eversong. . ."
[ P . K ] Kretus just stared at the man, hardly phased by the implied insult to his... hut.
“I mean that’s fine. Be on your way then if you have some where better to be. But something tells me my hut with things you will need for a journey is better than what you just described.”
[ V . D ] Verzatea's shoulders tensed with the haughty and stressed tones, her hands clutching onto the familiar figure of Kretus. She would have pressed her forehead against the gentlemans torso when he first pulled her forth, but rather than linger in this moment - no matter how she wanted to given it was the safest she'd felt since the tomb - she recalled the severity of the situation. Her eyes glance around then, hissing out:
"Mind your tempers,"
She sighs through her nose, standing up right now and releasing Kretus after a grateful smile was sent his way,
"It id very good to see you again my friend... And once more I must ask your aid-- While your home would be an appreciated opportunity to rest..,"
Tea glances back to offer the group an apologetic stare,
"We cannot linger... Its no guarantee we're out of the woods just yet. Theres another place, one much safer than the middle of the woods-- I just..,"
She glances around, the familiar forest and its natural scents riling those old memories once more... Childhood memories, even, but not enough to navigate the woods blindly,
"I dont know how to get there from here."
Turning to the group Tea remarks hesitantly,
"If we can make it to the North-Eastern most tip between the Ghostlands and Eversong Woods we can gather safely at my childhood home..,"
Glancing over her shoulder she'd peer up toward Kretus to explain,
"You aren't safe in these woods anymore, after having contact with us. Come with us? Lead us, even, since you know these woods well?"
Pame grunts as the weight of Marseille begins to dawn on her tired muscles, huffing out in aggravation,
"Choose quickly."
@siidaraykashebahl
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To be continued in “In Mind of Misery, Manipulation, Part 13″
“You know…” his supernatural voice echoed dryly, a sinister tone dripping off of every word, “In Acherus, you learned a lot about what anguish truly is. Torment. Effective torture. You learn what breaks down not only the body, but the spirit as well. That’s the tricky part. That good old defiant stubbornness innate in all of us. Overcoming that. That’s the trick. Trust me, we all go through it.”
The Kul Tiran was groggy and his vision blurred. Whitstan offered a quick, solid and cold smack to the head with his hand. Marcus swore a wall of ice had struck him. As the drool fell from his chin he struggled to process what memory he had of the hours leading up to this moment. He shuddered and shivered violently as realization sunk in. Terror in the depth of his soul welled up as his heart pounded against his chest and his mind sent adrenaline pumping into what felt like every cell in his body. He became hyper-aware of the sensations in every nerve along his body, everything tingle in sheer nightmarish terror yet he couldn’t remember why. As sweat beaded down his head and he struggled to open his mouth he noticed something peculiar. He couldn’t feel his feet.
The absence of feeling wasn’t the only odd thing. The crunching noises and juicy grinding kept resounding in his mind. A deeper terror sunk in shortly after.
“People… they get obstinate. You take something away from them and they plant their feet in deeper into their stubbornness and refuse to relent. You have to be aware of their faith, and the depth of their resolve. The more you torture someone who holds absolute resolve and inflict pain upon them… they just get more and more stubborn. They realize that the pain inflicted upon them and their limbs lost only fuel their resolve. If they held on this far and lost this much, what does it matter if they lose a bit more, or lose everything, right? Really, you try torturing a few Scarlet Crusaders and you learn the real definition of stubbornness.”
Marcus looked down to see what he was afraid of remembering. Bound to this chair by countless leather straps, two ghouls mashed their blunted teeth and rotted gums against the nubs that were once his shins just below the knee.
“The key is to remind them… their resolve means nothing. There’s always another level of despair to sink into… to get lost in. And that the pain…? That’s only the beginning…”
The first-mate began hyperventilating. He tried to scream with all his might but realized his jaw was clenched shut by something. A long and loud, yet muffled cry escaped his lungs.
“Oh, are you back? Sorry, I start rambling sometimes. Especially when my audience nods off. Are the drugs wearing out then? Good. You seemed to lose your senses and what little sanity you had left, I wanted to make sure you remained grounded enough to form cohesive sentences when I started asking you questions… yet you fell asleep right away when I gave you the medicine. Maybe it was too much...”
Whitstan wore a slight frown, unsympathetic and mostly foreboding.
A sense of dread came over Marcus as his breath grew erratic and his chest grew tighter. It felt as if a thousand needles were being drug across every end of his nerves and along his core. He struggled against his restraints as muffled screams were forced out of him. He felt every chunk of flesh being forcefully mashed and slowly torn from what was left below his knees as the ghouls chewed violently and gleefully.
“Then again, sometimes I want to ask questions and then… I forget. I forget why I’m doing this in the first place. Because your torment brings me reprieve. This affliction we Death Knights suffer… we have to inflict agony on the living for it to recede even a moment. Oh, and believe me, it’s really hard trying to be a good, kind, law-abiding citizen. You have no idea. But… I do it. Because I believe in something greater than myself. In someone that I care about more than you might ever know. And here’s the best part… she brings me you so that I don’t have to suffer anymore… and that to me, that means everything.”
Marcus felt fingertips along his cheeks, but they were cold and callous. Oddly familiar but foreign at the same time. A light few pats came to the sides of his face as the smell of decay and blood filled his nose, forcing him to fight the vomit climbing up his throat. The taste was familiar. Suddenly he remembered the taste of his own stomach bile that he had been throwing up for hours, only to be blocked by the straps around his head and forced down his throat again while he retched. It came up again, and was forced down, meeting the next wave of bile coming up as he tried to swallow what was once in his mouth. It became a cycle of complete disgust and agony as his eyes settled on the hands that were touching him. He desperately turned his head to witness the bandages on his wrists, where his arms ended. The hands were his own dirty, bloodied hands.
“Marcus, MARCUS! Breathe… BREATHE through your nose, stop trying to swallow it down and relax… it’s not going anywhere.”
His chest convulsed a few more times and he felt as if his jaw and cheeks were about to explode yet somehow during his hyperventilating he had become accustomed to the stomach-bile resting in his filled mouth.
“Remember these? I told you that I was going to pluck off your fingernails and you told me to do my worst, so I just tore these off instead. You told me to go to hell, and that I’d never get anything out of you, so I decided to bind your mouth and fed you to my ghouls. Look… look Marcus.” he continued, tossing the hands onto the ground. One of the ghouls shrieked out of excitement and moved away from the nubs to began chewing on the hands. “It’s nothing personal, but if you aren’t going to help me, I might as well use you for everything you’re worth. Food for my ghouls… and fuel for me to escape my affliction. Thank you Marcus.”
Tears flowed freely from the Kul Tiran’s eyes as they pleaded with Whitstan. “Hmn? Wha… what is it Marcus? What’s wrong? Are you okay? Don’t go dying on me yet, okay?... Shhh… it’s okay. Just keep breathing.” he maliciously reassured him, a sinister smirk wearing on his face.
Dearest Kaevia,
Poor Marcus doesn’t seem to be doing well. I don’t think he’ll survive the fortnight. If you could get into contact with his family near Shatterstone Harbor, it would be for the best. Maybe they’ll be able to take care of his last rites. By the time I was done tending to him, he didn’t have the strength to tell me any more about his family. I hope this is enough to reach out to his kin.
As the star ship entered into Hutt space and his preparations were complete he cast out his mind into the ocean of the living force. Like a shark following the scent of blood he searched the sea of people for the one, seeking out her presence through the strong emotions surrounding her. In truth searching Nar Shaddaa it was like trying to locate a single ripple on Manaan, but when one is so intimately familiar with that ripple it becomes only slightly more into the realm of possibility. Still all he would likely be able to locate nothing more than an echo, but an echo would at the very least bring him nearby, within the same district at the very least. That would save him months or years of searching and if the force was truly with him, narrow it down to weeks or even days.
He felt it singing to him as if from a great distance, like a woman’s voice at the furthest end of some cave, she was here, in the entertainment promenade. That much should have been obvious, perhaps that’s where her new companion lived or worked, still, that place would be densely packed with various comings and goings. He felt the fluid begin to drain from his tank and his feet once more touched the ground, he shivered slightly as the cool air hit his wet skin. He stepped out of the tank drying himself off and dressing in semi-luxurious attire, not to stand out, but also not to draw to much attention. He stood before the mirror and looked at himself, he sighed as he realized what he must do, his scars and his mustache were easily his most identifiable features. Carefully and meticulously the mustache was shaven away, he withdrew a facial cream and applied it to his scars blending them with the rest of his face.
Jur’ten exited the ship quietly keeping his saber pike extended like a staff or fancy walking stick, keeping it hidden in plain sight, on his hip rested a blaster pistol he had set to stun, it was underhanded, but honor is a fool’s virtue. He melded into the crowd and reached out with the force passively searching for her presence, it was like trying to identify a single voice out of a planet sized chorus. However, the occasional whisper spoke to him, eventually however his wristband chimed, his holonet database had identified approximately 6 matches to her physical description, only two of which corresponded to his conclusions about the entertainment promenade. The first of which worked in the pleasure quarter, the other resided in one of the many yachts that constantly swarmed about the skyways of the planet.
The pleasure quarter was the closest to his current position and his landing pad, while he was not terribly enthusiastic about having to visit that area it would be best to search it first. It did end up being just as unpleasant as he had expected it, the instant he entered through the thresh hold he was assaulted with an innumerable number of topless gyrating women of various species. He squinted through the deathstick smoke and wove his way through the crowd of partiers, as well as the inner rim and core world teens and young men out for their first thrill. The sheer number of twi’lek women who were blue with relatively large breasts was making this less like finding a needle in a haystack, and much more like finding a needle in a stack of needles. He pushed one evidently intoxicated women off of him and avoided a grappling group of men as he scanned the faces of all present. He checked his armband again and ascertained the employer of his first candidate.
It was the largest of all of the “brokers” present in this part of Nar Shaddaa, which would make things both easier and more difficult at the same time. He walked in through the automatic doors wrinkling his nose at the assault of aromas that clung in the air. Mixtures of cheap perfumes, sweat, drugs, and cheaper alcohol. He moved past a couple walking out the door and approached the topless receptionist. She smiled up at him, a cheap attempt at seduction, he could see the deadness in her eyes, this was likely not her first choice in career paths.
“Well, hello there,” She said with a fake smile and extended a hand in greeting “How might I be able to help a delicious specimen like yourself today sir?”
“I am looking for a very specific girl,” He said with a much better, at least he hoped, fake smile than she had given him “she should look about like this.”
Jur’ten pulled up the holographic mockup of Kassumi generated by the parameters he had originally given to the holonet search base. The receptionist scrutinized the image somewhat scowling slightly in thought. She looked him up and down and then entered in a sequence of numbers and letters on her terminal. She sat in silence for several moments before brightening up some as she seemed to come to a conclusion.
“Ah, yes, she is one of our more popular girls, however, she is with a client at the moment and is booked throughout the month,” She said turning her monitor to face him as if for visual confirmation “Could I book you for an appointment sir, it can be on site or a house call.”
“I need to see her now,” Jur’ten said narrowing his eyes slightly, when she opened her mouth to protest he drew the pistol from his side and held it casually on the counter “That was not a request.”
The woman stared at the pistol for several moments before she proffered up a key card for one room 34A without question, clearly she hadn’t been in Hutt space long if she surrendered to a man with a gun so easily. He pondered the idea that perhaps 34A was a trap meant to summon the authorities in situations like this. He determined it best to make the calculated risk and go to the room, so he smiled threateningly at the receptionist who seemed on the verge of tears, and headed up to the turbo lift. As it turned out 34 was the floor and A was the room identification.
He was the only one on the turbolift which made for a silent ascent if not slow, likely to give patrons the opportunity to “warm up” before they made it to their rooms. The elevator stopped at floor thirty four and the doors slid open quietly. This must be the more luxuriant suites, the lack of perfume and sweat stink was almost palpable in the air, he thought to himself. He stalked down the hall somewhat reading the holoplacards on the doors as he went, the unit he had been looking for ended up being a corner unit at the end of the hall. Soft moans and grunts could be heard from within. He tapped into the living force and placed his hand on the door focusing on the idea of it shattering like glass.
The creaking of tortured metal emanated from the door as hairline cracks formed in its structure, slowly they spider webbed out from his palm. As he channeled more and more of the force into his assault on the door the cracks widened until the door shattered into several dozen pieces. He was careful not to let them fall to the floor lowering them softly into a pile by the wall and looked about to make sure he had not been noticed, cameras would not be present for obvious reasons. Once he was sure he had not been seen he reached down and activated the stealth field generator on his belt his form melding into shadow and refracted light blending him into his surroundings.
The room itself was indeed luxurious tall ceilings and a large bathroom could be immediately seen from the hallway. Holo terminal was in the farthest corner to Jur’ten’s immediate front, and around the corner to his right must have been the actual bed or whatever other furnishing was preferred. He crept into the room with complete silence relying on the force to mask his footfalls as he slowly rounded the corner. The two seemed to have finished their task and were sitting upright together talking quietly both seemingly catching their breath. Jur’ten approached silently and let his stealth field generator deactivate, the man and the escort were rather surprised to see a man with a gun suddenly materialize in front of them.
“What the hell do you think…” The man started to shout but was cut short when a full powered lethal round from Jur’tens pistol blasted a cauterized hole through his skull.
“Could have sworn that was set to stun, well no matter, you,” He said pointing the pistol at the woman on the bed, “Stand up.”
“You…you killed my best paying client,” the woman seemed rather shocked at this turn of events though rather more concerned with her loss of steady pay rather than the actuality of the man being dead, she did however comply and stood before him unashamedly.
Jur’ten scrutinized her for a moment, but it was short order to tell the woman who stood before him was in fact not the one he was looking for. He holstered his pistol and sighed somewhat before turning away.
“I apologize for the inconvenience, you are not the one I am looking for,” He said flatly walking out of the room and into the hallway
“Well who are you looking for,” She asked following him out into the hallway either not remembering her naked state or just uncaring “and how do you know it’s not me?”
“Because your nipples were wrong, and it’s nothing you should concern yourself with, for your own good step away and forget this ever happened,” Jur’ten said removing several round objects from his belt and tossing them in various directions where they stuck to the walls and ceiling.
“What do you mean my nipples were wrong,” the twi’lek asked indignantly following him about as he placed his objects around the hallway “and what are you doing, tell me or I will tell the authorities.”
Jur’ten halted in his tracks and turned to face the woman, she had her arms crossed with a very indignant look on her face, she was attractive, pity she couldn’t have simply do as she was told. Without a word he ignited the blade on his saber pike the black and purple blade was noiseless due to similar sonic dampeners to his speeder. Her shock turned to pain when he drove the point through her chest skewering her heart in a single, lightning fast, fluid thrust. He withdrew the blade and she fell to the ground with a dull thump. He stared at the dead body for a moment before turning and entering into the turbo lift selecting the return toggle to bring him to the ground floor. The receptionist smiled her fake smile, bid him farewell, and gave him the obligatory “come back soon” which he had no intention of doing if he had anything to say about it.
Once out onto the street again he pressed down on the detonator, the entirety of the thirty fourth floor of the pleasure house exploded in a shower of flame and debris. That at least would do to cover his tracks, a corpse with a lightsaber wound was not something he needed to draw attention to himself. He wove through the crowd of people trying to flee and people trying to get a view of the explosion, somewhere in there he thought he caught glimpse of a first responder. However, he had reason to believe that since this was Nar Shaddaa, a Hutt blowing up another Hutt’s whorehouse from time to time was likely not an unusual occurrence. Jur’ten cleared the pleasure quarter and made haste to his ship. The myriad of neon lights was starting to annoy him, why did all the crime worlds have to be so damned colorful.
He did not even wait until the dock officer gave him permission to take off, the only other possible match was the pleasure yacht, and after the disgusting affair of the pleasure quarter he was half tempted to knock the damn thing out of the sky. However, Lady Wrath and Darth Vindicta had demanded a live prisoner, not a corpse, furthermore a firefight in open skies on one of the most heavily populated world in the galaxy was not his idea of trying to remain subtle. There was also the minor inconvenience of a war with the Hutts that Darth Vindicta would likely not appreciate. Jur’ten reapplied the make up to his scars and maneuvered his vessel towards the location of the pleasure yacht.
While his cloaking device made him relatively invisible it did not make him intangible which posed a very real danger to him on such a densely packed world. So he would have to maneuver twice as carefully since the nigh suicidal Nar Shaddaa traffic could not actually see him. So he flew low, just under the flow of traffic, as the indicator for the pleasure yacht slowly drew closer. It an interesting phenomenon to watch the air traffic flow around it like a river around a stone, I guess one could never really tell which was owned privately or a Hutt’s. Jur’ten maneuvered himself around and underneath it, he extended his landing skids and magnetized them. Such a maneuver was risky, but he was counting on the traffic to mask the sound of him latching on, then like a leech he attached himself to the yacht.
He retracted the landing skids until he felt the barest resistance he should have been relatively flush with their hull by then which should allow him to enter unseen. Jur’ten ordered his droid to keep the ship cloaked and running in case a quick escape was needed. He made his way to the escape hatch and opened it, he held onto the ladder as he was nearly blasted back down by the wind. He then ignited his saber pike and stabbed it up through the base of the hull cutting a wide circle out of it, using the force he lifted the piece out and away from the hole setting it to the side. Still using the force he transferred the warheads of several torpedos up through the hole before clambering up himself. This time there were no need for stealth, he was going to kill everything aboard and this new lover Kass had attached herself to. Then and only then would he reveal himself.
Jur’ten place the warheads throughout the guts of the ship placing the most of them by the reactor. He did encounter a few workman, but most of them were too busy to look behind them, he skewered a fair few of them before he cleared the first deck. His goal was simple, he would make it painfully obvious the place was hit by sith assassins, and when Kass and her new companion returned he would strike, and take her. He made sure to keep the uniform of one of the deck workers intact, he slipped it on over his armorings and pulled its cap down to shield his eyes. Kass was skilled enough to detect and combat his stealth field generator so a disguise was certainly warranted.
He of course revelled in the slaughter, one of the few times he could ever feel alive was when he inflicted terror and death upon the helpless. It was dangerous for him to partake in things with such enthusiasm considering the great lengths he went to keep his emotions as heavily suppressed as possible. What did keep his nerves on edge however, was the prospect of fighting a trained sith lord and her companion was a wild card. Kass and her penchant for ataru would make things difficult, and his personal take on makashi was largely untested. He was sure however the trauma he was about to inflict on her was going to provide a mediating factor, after all she did not have the same protections as him. As Jur’ten struck down the last of the crewman he looked out over the landing pad and watched as the ornate shuttle came in to land.
She was here, he could sense her, but there was another force presence, it could not be Kass was with a jedi? His face darkened as he watched the shuttle touchdown and the two women walked down the ramp he felt the animosity rising within him. This was becoming far more personal than he had originally intended. However, the consequences of Kass’s betrayal had just gotten that much worse this was likely to result in some horrific punishment from the wrath herself. He exited the control room and coated his chest in blood and gore from one of the mutilated workmen,
“Help me,” he shouted putting all the desperation and fear into his voice he thought he could get away with without sounding like he was acting, “He is killing us all, help us!”
The two women seemed slightly shocked by the appearance of the bloodied man before they both break into a run to reach the hallway he had stumbled into.
“Wait, who is the one doing this?” Kass asked as she tried to catch up to him, “stop moving let us help you.”
Jur’ten had to stop himself from a grim smile of satisfaction as the trailed them down the hall, they hesitated as they encountered the saber slashed bodies. He rounded the corner into a blacked out room and listened for them to be following him, he activated his stealth field generator just as they entered the room. He could hear them conversing quietly as they searched the room carefully in the darkness.
“Kass I think we shoul-” she started to speak before she cried out as the purple and black saber blade erupted from her chest.
Jur’ten willed the activation switch for the lighting to trip and as the room was lit and he pulled his blade from the chest of Kass’s newest lover he felt his satisfaction rise. The look she gave him was something he would butcher entire star systems to see again, the look of fear, pain, and betrayal was the sweetest thing of his life to date. Her face contorting in pain and anger she drew her saber from her hip and the two circle each other for a few moments. Her attack came first, the hallmark of ataru a wide sweeping strike delivered from a learp. He deflected it to the side and thrust at her, she managed to twist enough to avoid being skewered but still received a painful glancing blow to her belly.
“Come to take revenge Jur’ten?” she asked growling through the pain of her injury and slashing viciously at him “I am stronger and more experienced than you, you will die here.”
“No,” Jur’ten said flatly and countered the slash locking their blades, “I am not here for revenge, I am here because our dear lady demands your presence, to pay for your betrayal.”
He threw her blade to the side and sent a flurry of force assisted pinpoint thrusts at her forcing her back some. She withdrew a short distance and they circled one another again each combatant trying to find a hole in the others defense. They clashed again, saber pike countered lightsaber and lightsaber deflected pike point. The dance continued around the room, but Kassumi was beginning to tire. Jur’ten’s reliance on precision rather than strength kept his energy conserved. He performed a disarming move against her cutting her saber in twain, she in turn gathered the force in her hands and blasted him against the wall. Jur’ten allowed here to believe in her victory for a moment, watched her as she picked up the saber from her slain lover, ignited it, and raised it over her head.
Jur’ten in a movement quick as lighting drew the pistol from his thigh and fired a shot into her knee, she screamed and fell to her knees. He leapt to his feet and a roundhouse kick crashed into her head with a loud crack throwing her onto her side the saber’s safety activating and cutting its power. He seized her by her collar his fist cocked back, it thundered into her face with a sickening crunch as her nose and cheekbones broke. She went limp in his grip the saber dropping from her hands, he thought better of it and crushed it under his boot. With that he threw her over his shoulder and carried her down through the now derelict yacht. He dropped her unceremoniously onto his ship and then dropped down himself through the hatch.
He dragged her into a force cage stripping her down to her skivvies and injecting her with a force blocking sedative, when she awoke she would wish she had never been born. Jur’ten moved into the cockpit and detatched from the yacht, when he was a fair enough distance away he deactivated the cloaking device. When he was in low orbit, he activated the detonator, he could see the bloom as he left Nar Shaddaa’s atmosphere, various patrol ships turning on their axis and racing down planet side. He entered the coordinates for Arkona into his navicomputer and prepared for his jump to lightspeed. However before his departure into hyperspace he went to his holoterminal and sent his usual cryptic message back to his master.
“...Assignment completed…”
“...Understood, safe journey home, Lord Inquisitor…”
everytime someone asks something in the guild chat i respond with “your mom”. guildees absolutely hate me but since i’m 1/3 of our girl population they keep me. tz tz guys xD you and your low standarts
Recently, I posted up some guild storylines to follow and allowed the guild to make the selection. The voting still continues, but I figured I would post up the basic stories. NOTE: None of these are fleshed out in extreme detail yet, but we will get around to doing all of them. At some point.
"The Blood that Binds." [Dawn's Mesa]: The noble houses of Quel'Athillien have finally come together with a consensus: The queen needs to bear an heir. The problem has been that each of the houses believes that without an heir to take the throne, the lands of Quel'Athillien will fall into disarray and potentially become a neutral territory for warlords on both Alliance and Horde to eventually take over. However, at the same time, one of the new houses: House Sunspire, believes that it should be the heir to the throne as the queen has not yet made good on her promise to provide the lands with a proper heir. House Sunspire is going to attempt to bully the chancellery into agreeing to terms and conditions under which House Sunwhisper may continue to rule.
"The Blackflame Candle" [Bogwater]: Since the cleansing of Bogwater, the spirits have been stirred and the chapel that had once housed the Light has now become the center where the Black Candle Society meets. While they work for the church, the demons that have since been killed have had their bones used for weapons and study materials. A few of these artifacts have been since removed from the chapel by thieves and have begun to attract new demons to the area. This would be a storyline to introduce the first Prestige Class: Exorcist.
"The Wolf and the Bear" [Riverheart]: Between Riverheart and Seradane, there has been a surge of animals that have grown violent and have begun to attack small villages. Some of the druids have tried their best to quell the spirits of these animals, but something stirs them to the point of insanity. Many blame some of the mining that has been going on with the Dwarves that have moved in and believe that when they pushed out the fauna of the area, it angered some of the animal spirits that had been left to watch over the sacred groves. The druids have tried to explain this to the Dwarves, but they refuse to believe that such a thing is possible. This would introduce the second Prestige Class: Dark Druids.
"Frozen Hearts" [Northwinter]: With the absence of Lord Duran, the hearty people of Northwinter have begun to contemplate secession from Quel'Athillien to make their own homes. A budding Jarldom has begun to rise there from the many people who have fled Autumnhigh and away from the Twilight's Hammer. The person who is at the head of this is a strong, burly man who believes that Northwinter was intended for those who have fled and ought to be separate from the Elves. There is a small army amassing and seek to begin a war to prove that they ought to be ruled by their own people and not by the Elf-Queen. This would use the army roll system.
"Misty Mountains" [Dal'Danil]: The mountains that border Da'Danil and Northwinter are known as the Misty Mountains because of the thick layer of mist that surrounds them where the cool air from the North combines with the warm air of the South. In these mists, dangerous things stir and often come down to attack small villages and people who cross between the duchies. Within the mountains are small stones, better known as "Fallen Stars" that hold a very strong, almost primal source of arcane. The Conclave firmly believes that these stones might be the answer to many of the questions regarding leylines and how to preform a new type of magic. However, as they go to fetch them, they are met with the dark creatures that warden them. This story would include new buffs and artifacts for use.
They are by no means perfect, but a good start. Enjoy, Vestige people. Voting for the guild closes on Saturday and we begin the event on Thursday.
You get to choose your adventure this time. On the site, I posted up 5 different ideas for stories and I need you to vote on which one you would like to go first. All voting will be closed by next week so I can begin setting things up. Feel free to drop questions, comments and concerns!
