Mace Jhiera Vos
The Mist Order
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Post by Mace Jhiera Vos on Jan 1, 2015 17:15:52 GMT -8
“Oh without a doubt,” Said Forcias with an amused grin on who was the worse tease out of the two of them. He blinked once to tell her that he got it loud and clear, after all she was the one who did imply more or less that she survived on MREs. Before Forcias could even turn his attention to the fridge and start up with their food, he clearly was transfixed at her undressing, that definitely made him laugh before rolling his eyes. “See, you are the tease. . .”Shaking his head playfully before he finally turned around to look at the fridge and decide on what they should be having for dinner, but to him right now there was something that was lacking, but considering that he did not have anything on him or in his stuff to make that happen, he just hummed to himself while he took out the nerf tenderloin and the salthia bean to cook those. Laying their plates filled with food on the table, he covered those so that it would stay warm, Forcias made his way towards the dock to find her, although he stopped at a moment and just looked at her with an amused grin. “Oh please, don’t let me interrupt you, I have the perfect view right now.” Said he teasingly before walking in her direction and grabbing the towel to help her wrap it around her body, not that she needed any help, but it was just an excuse anyways. “C’mon dinner is ready, later I do plan to return the favor of that massage you did once perform on me the other evening. . .” Forcias murmured teasingly as his lips hovered on hers before finally kissing her and then he wrapped his arm around her while they made their way back inside to their food.
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Jan 1, 2015 23:23:52 GMT -8
Grinning as she stands up and stretches before turning when Forcias moves to wrap the towel around her, Lucy leans back to press herself against him, shivering pleasurably as he whispers to her, then turns to accept the kiss he gives her, biting his lip playfully after they break from it. "I like the sound of that dope, she purrs when he reveals his plans for the evening. Snuggling against him when he wraps an arm around her as they walk back to the cabin, Lucy says, Give me a second to take a quick shower, since she is sweaty from laying in the sun. Once inside the cabin, Lucy wraps her arms around Forcias' neck, kissing him tenderly and lingeringly before stepping back and promising, Be back in a sec," and then heading for the 'fresher.
Returning with her damp hair pulled back in a ponytail, dressed only in her short, hooded bathrobe, Lucy sits at the table and uncovers her plate, smiling as she sees what Forcias has prepared for them. "Looks delish, Lucy says with a smile, picking up her fork and knife to cut into the tenderloin as she says, I think we should put you in charge of all future dinners, adding, Breakfast can be my thing. Groaning in delight after taking the first bite, Lucy covers her mouth as she says, You're definitely in charge of dinners dope. So, I was thinking we could enact the ride falumpasets plan tomorrow, Lucy says, remembering that they had joked about the idea on the way to Theed; the idea may have been proposed in jest, but Lucy figures that they might actually enjoy it all the same. We could make a day of it, do the pack a picnic thing, find a meadow somewhere and be all goopy and romantic, you know? What do you think?"
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Mace Jhiera Vos
The Mist Order
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Post by Mace Jhiera Vos on Jan 2, 2015 12:56:30 GMT -8
“What your imperiousness wishes. . .” Replied Forcias teasingly when she told him that he would be in charge with dinner. That wasn’t problematic to him at all if she was indeed going to deal with breakfast, but there was still a problem who was going to deal with lunch then? Well that was a matter they could either revisit the next day or whenever, he actually did not care when he really thought about it. Placing two bottles of ale onto the table before he sat down, he looked at her with a warm affectionate smile when she clearly showed her appreciation to the meal he had prepared.
Picking up his cutleries, he started to eat while listening to her attentively to her suggestion for tomorrow, he swallowed his food and wiped his mouth with his napkin before nodding in agreement, whatever she wanted to do anyways, he was game for it. “Be still my heart,” Playfully said Forcias with his hand over his heart with an amused expression. “You actually wouldn’t mind being goopy, that is so sweet, I thought that was my job.” Winking at her playfully as he returned to his meal, they continued to talk about anything and whatever for the remainder of their meal until they were done with that.
After being done with the dishes, Forcias led her to the common room and lit up the fireplace before telling her to lay down since he did say that he was going to give her a massage, which he did although he obviously wasn’t that much of a professional when it came to massages but that did not matter considering what followed afterwards. . .
The next day, he was with her in the bed and he woke up before her, which was a second first considering that she always was the one to sound the alarm for him, but he smirked at the thought before smacking her bum gently and laughing softly as he wrapped his arm around her again and just willed her awake by teasingly kissing her neck. “Wakey, wakey, Lieutenant. . .”
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Post by Deleted on Jan 3, 2015 21:34:44 GMT -8
Lucy groans, smiling as she says, "You know, we could actually sleep in. We're on vacation, you know dope, and then reaches up to push him over on his back and sitting atop him with a mischievous grin as she adds, but seeing as how you're up anyway, and in more than one way . . . "
After she has made them breakfast, and they have dressed for the falumpaset riding they have planned, Lucy searches the holonet for the nearest place they can arrange to rent the falumpasets as well as for places they can have the space to ride them and have their picnic. Even though she had suggested the activity mostly as a lark, Lucy enjoys the day; the grassy plain that they ride the falumpasets over is gorgeous, as well as an idyllic location for a leisurely picnic, and the more time she spends with Forcias doing things she once would have dismissed as cheesy or lame, the more she finds herself enjoying them after all due to the fact she is building memories with Forcias she knows they will always treasure.
Returning to the cabin with enough time before dinner that she can work more on her tan, Lucy heads out to the dock and spends some time enjoying the sun, trusting that Foricas will almost certainly enjoy having some time to himself as she does since she imagines that being together constantly can be wearing on even the closest of couples, and she even decides to give them each more time to themselves later in the evening; retiring to the deck looking out on the lake after they eat with a trashy novel so that Forcias can do whatever it is that he does to recharge and relax himself.
The sole dark spot on the day occurs later, after they have gone to bed, when Lucy wakes from her familiar nightmare with a tortured gasp shortly before midnight. Sitting upright, feeling the sheets beneath her soaked with sweat, Lucy lifts a hand to brush her tangled, sweaty hair out of her eyes as she reaches over and pats Forcias gently on the shoulder when she feels him start to sit up beside her. "Sorry, just a nightmare, Lucy tells him, Go back to sleep," and then gets up from the bed to head into the bathroom. After toweling the sweat from her body, Lucy splashes water on her face and looks at her reflection in the mirror accusingly, knowing that she should probably not keep running from telling Forcias about the nightmare that she has come to accept will always plague her; not only does he deserve to know, but Lucy feels that a part of her also wants to share one of the darker passages from her past with him so that he can understand her better.
Pulling on her robe, Lucy finds a pair of dry towels and returns to the bed, laying one of the towels over her side of the bed so she doesn't have to sit in her own sweat, and hands the second to Forcias as she says, "Sorry if I got you drenched too, just one of the dangers of sleeping beside me. Sitting down beside him, Lucy rubs his cheek and, wanting to give him the chance to elude the SERIOUS CONVERSATION if he would rather have it in the morning, asks, Have I woken you up completely, or do you want to go back to sleep?"
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Mace Jhiera Vos
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Post by Mace Jhiera Vos on Jan 4, 2015 4:59:14 GMT -8
During their time in the meadow after their falumpaset ride, Forcias found himself to be completely relaxed and he was continuously laughing with her by his side. He even had taken some holopictures of her and the two of them together because he really wanted to have a factual memory of their time being spent together. Every moments he spent with her it was just perfect whether they did nothing or just talked about random things. He clearly did not care and even once throughout their picnic he did not hesitate to tell her again at least once that he did love her, and that wouldn’t change.
Now that they were back at the cabin, Forcias had spent his time meditating and even working out. Not really what most would call down time but it was what he did and what he enjoyed just to clear his mind so to speak.
. . . And now back in bed, Forcias clearly woke up when he started to feel that clear anguish from the woman he loved. Sitting up and looking at her with a concerned expression, he felt that the sheets were wet from the sweat and obviously the nightmare she had just gone through. Rubbing his face to wake himself up more fully, he waited for her to return, he watched her in silence when she returned and closed his eyes briefly when she began to rub his cheek. He knew that putting this off now wasn’t going to fix anything at all, and he needed to know too. But he did find that her being the one to rub his cheek right now when it should be the other way around was somewhat wrong, it felt like she was the one soothing him. Taking a deep breath Forcias sat up correctly and leaned his back against the headboard before gesturing for her to sit right in front of him.
When she did, he wrapped his arms around her protectively and turned his head to kiss her temple affectionately and lovingly. “You don’t have to apologize for drenching me, Lucine. . .” Said Forcias sincerely, he understood and quite honestly he did not care at all about that, what he cared about, or who he cared about, it was her and he just needed to know that she would be okay so to speak. “Talk to me,” He somewhat pleaded before tightening his hold on her somewhat without choking her of course. “Whatever you are going through, know that I am here, and that I will always listen to you whenever you feel that you are ready to share with me, okay?” Forcias smiled slightly and this time he was the one giving her that out if she wanted or needed it, even with his earlier plea, he still wanted to leave her that choice, really. . . He could after all be patient, but him not knowing, he knew that sooner or later it was going to drive him mad to the point that he would potentially do the unthinkable and ask a favor from Horsea sooner or later to access Lucy’s files in the intelligence department. . .
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Post by Deleted on Jan 4, 2015 21:27:43 GMT -8
Nestling back against Forcias, Lucy absently runs her hand up and down his forearm silently for a moment before she says, "I'm not going through anything, so don't worry, a bit defensively, and then closes her eyes after deciding to go through with her intent to tell him about the nightmare that has plagued her for years now, telling him in a calm and collected tone that is only partly forced, When I joined the CDF, they made me a Lartie pilot at first. Rubbing her robe over the spot the tattoo on her bicep is concealed beneath at the moment, Lucy goes on, Jess and I were in the same platoon, and he was my co-pilot. Sighing, realizing she is not the best story teller, but determined to finish the story she wants to tell, Lucy presses on, Anyway, I frakked up on an op. Got shot down, and then made it worse by crashing us behind enemy lines. We lost . . . everyone else on the crew. Some when my Lartie was hit, some in the crash, and some in the fighting afterwards when the enemy found us. Thirty four people that trusted me to keep them safe until we reached our LZ died. Thirty four, Lucy repeats in a haunted whisper, the names of each and every one of her teammates that were lost that day echoing in her mind along with their faces, their individual personality quirks, and their dying moments, their last moans or screams. Sniffing, willing herself not to cry, Lucy collects herself and goes on, Jess and I were both wounded, but we made it out together. Shrugging with a humorless laugh, the story seeming to have been told too quickly to make Forcias understand the effect having lived it imparted on her, Lucy says somewhat distantly, caught up in the memories and the guilt the dream never fails to stir up within her even though she tries to stay present for Forcias, And so I dream about that sometimes."
Turning so that she is curled up on her side in his arms, Lucy keeps her eyes closed as she tells rather than asks Forcias in a flat tone, "Small price to pay for failing them all, for surviving when they all died. That's why I wanted to become a starfighter pilot. Only me that bites it if I frak up." Not expecting Forcias to say anything, feeling that there is nothing he or anyone could say to absolve herself of her sin, Lucy nuzzles more comfortably against him and tries to will herself to return to sleep.
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Mace Jhiera Vos
The Mist Order
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Post by Mace Jhiera Vos on Jan 5, 2015 12:26:42 GMT -8
Silently, Forcias listened to her. Before she had even explained to him the cause of her nightmare, he had a feeling that what she was going to tell him had something to do with survivor’s guilt. . . What else was there anyways? Lucy was a soldier just like him, not a lot of things would cause to have people like them to have restless nights, he could relate in a way. He knew that there were no right words to say to someone who went through that, and he also knew that it would never fade away at all. Lucy felt that it was her fault, but the thing was she shouldn’t blame herself that much, everyone in her platoon knew the risks when they signed up for that.
“Luce. . .” Began to say Forcias as he held her closer to him and even rested his chin on the top of her head. “Know that you honor them by remembering all of them, but I am sure that none of them would want you to bear this guilt too long, they all knew what to expect when they enlisted.” Forcias knew that his statement wasn’t going to make her feel better, but still she said that they trusted her, and that was without a doubt they would continue to do so. The enemy was more fortunate back then and had taken the right shot at the right time.
Life went on, and maybe Forcias was a tad selfish right then and there and he was glad that she had survived, because he couldn’t even imagine how his life would be without her in it. Sighing softly and knowing that she could only endure this event, Forcias knew that he could at least try to soothe her which was why he closed his own eyes and tried to soothe her with the help of the Force so she could at least get some rest for tonight, so that hopefully her sleep would be void of any other nightmares.
Forcias stayed in that position although he did not fall asleep instead he tended to her by just holding her and just rubbing her arm soothingly, at least that went on until the morning. . .
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Post by Deleted on Jan 11, 2015 20:45:43 GMT -8
Lucy doesn't reply to what Forcias says, appreciating the sentiment even while not being able to bring herself to agree with him. There are times her nightmares are not as straightforward as reliving the event, times when her old teammates find their way into dreams about her present to accuse her, or to exact their revenge. A part of her knows that such dreams are manifestations of the guilt she feels, knows that it is she that ultimately decides to haunt herself rather than her dead, and yet still cannot help feeling the haunting is deserved. Curling into a tight ball and nuzzling herself closer to Forcias, Lucy pretends to sleep for his benefit, and in pretending eventually does fall asleep.
Their next few days on Naboo are lazy ones, almost following a routine since, at least for her part, Lucy has a soldier's inclination for structure and order even when she thinks she is free from it. Waking early and jogging together, Lucy and Forcias then have a leisurely breakfast followed by a shower that does not always only involve getting clean. Mornings and afternoons typically find Lucy tanning or swimming, with Forcias either joining her or off doing his own thing, and evenings they spend together watching cheesy holovids, walking around the lake, playing some of the equally cheesy old board games they find in a closet, or some other activity. Having lived alone for so long, Lucy has often wondered whether she could actually live with anyone else that wouldn't drive her crazy, or be driven crazy by her; and finds to her happy surprise that she and Forcias don't seem to have any habits that would make living together an entirely laughable prospect. They fight, as anyone does, on occasion, about ridiculous things mostly, but neither lets the argument linger long, always resolving it, or laughing at themselves for having allowed something trivial to escalate into a fight, before the day ends. As the time for their vacation to end draws closer Lucy finds herself wishing that they had more time to spend on Naboo, away from their responsibilities, responsibilities she knows will be waiting for them when they return and which will almost certainly require them to occasionally be apart for extended periods. Not one to indulge in reflection, Lucy is only marginally aware of some of the things her subconscious alone realizes, and she always manages to set her thoughts aside before they can make her enjoy the time remaining to them on Naboo any less.
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The Shepherd
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Post by The Shepherd on May 10, 2015 14:48:21 GMT -8
"Yoosa sure yoosa no wantin' to talk about dis ting?"
Rutil's only response was one of his trademark glares. Ever since he had told his Gungan guide that he was on Jedi business, the amphibious, curious boat driver had been completely unable to stop asking dumb questions. But while the Zabrak tolerated the general sort of questions that everyone seemed to want to know - what Jedi did, how many fights they had been in, all the planets they had been to, and so on - the constant questions about why he was actually on the boat that day were starting to wear on him. Previously, simply saying he was on a mission for the Jedi had done the trick, but the Gungan had slowly grown more persistent over the course of their journey together. And as many that knew him knew all too well, patience was not something the surly old man was known for.
"I'm positive."
"Ookie-dokie. Meesa jus' tinkin', Jeedi no comin' here a lot. Jeedi only goin' to trouble. If da Jeedi is here, den deresa trouble. Bombad trouble, metinks."
The Gungan's view was dead on. Oversimplified, of course, but no less accurate for it. Rutil was only on Naboo because a holocron had been rumored to be here, and the very rumor of such a thing warranted an investigation as far as he was concerned. Not necessarily for the holocron itself; much of what the Jedi Order had lost in the Purge had since been regained. But the Jedi were far from the only ones interested in such things. Even beyond that, Jedi were not called in for simple things like treaties and security detail. If a Jedi was involved, things were either about to go royally sideways or already had, and all other options to avoid a crisis had been taken off the table. Bombad trouble, as his guide had said. Considering what he had already felt in the spaceport, the window to avoid disaster was already narrow, and was getting narrower with each passing second.
But being right didn't entitle the curious boat driver to an answer.
"You aren't wrong. But believe me, the less you know, the better. All you need to know is that I'm here to get something that the Gungans might already know about, and that the people behind me won't be nearly so reasonable. Understand?"
With a frustrated shrug, the Gungan turned his attention back to the waters before him. They were about a third of the way to Kaadara now, and before long there would be a coastal settlement; a laoyver where Gungan fishermen would store and stage their hauls for transport across the surface. It was farther than Rutil would have liked to be from the capital, to be sure. But it was also the closest submarine - bongo, as the guide called it - available, and thus the fastest route to one of the Gungan underwater cities.
And if there was any justice, the fastest way to the holocron.
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Darth Andor
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Post by Darth Andor on May 12, 2015 13:47:13 GMT -8
The bongo submarine and its three occupants continued making its way further out to sea. Andor's eyes were still closed as he continued searching for the presence of the holocron: but to no luck. His eyes opened and he sighed, running his hand through his hair and scratching it. The Gungan serving as co-pilot looked behind him as he began to talk.
"Issa everythin' ok?"
"Yes, I'm fine. Just frustrated." Andor looked out the side of the ship, observing the sea-life around him pass by.
"So whata exactly are youssa lookin' for, meester? Andor's eyes burned into the Gungan's in response and the sentient being wilted in his chair. "Messa sorry. Messa no ask'a anymo' questions."
"Wise decision. Just follow the wake of that boat that's ahead of us. I believe that passenger is looking for the same thing as me and we need to make sure he doesn't find it." An image of an aged Zabrak flashed in his mind. Andor adjusted his seating position, growing both stiff and restless in the close space with the two Gungans.*
*The submarine stayed a careful distance away from Rutil's own vessel as it followed. Andor closed his eyes again and reached out once more, searching again for the lost holocron.
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The Shepherd
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Post by The Shepherd on May 16, 2015 7:32:07 GMT -8
There it was.
Rutil made neither sound nor expression to alert the Gungan boat driver that something was amiss. But he had been a Jedi for almost a century, and a Jedi Guardian for nearly as long. He had been one of a select few to survive the Great Purge. He had kept himself hidden away from the Empire. He had seen the New Republic come to light. He had been from one side of the galaxy to the other, had seen every level of society from its highest echelons to its deepest pits, and met every person that lived in between. But no matter where Rutil went or what Rutil did, there was one universal constant; the Force.
And the dark side's filth was as sickening here, in the crystalline waters of Naboo, as it was anywhere else.
The wizened Zabrak cursed under his breath. When he told his guide that those behind him would not be as willing to negotiate for the holocron, he had not expected them to be nipping right at his heels. For all he knew, whatever lied in wait behind them would strike the second Rutil's boots hit the docks of this village they were going to, and if the Jedi did not act then the entire community would be laid to waste. In hindsight, perhaps warning the Gungan would have been the correct course of action; it was only fair that they understood what was about to befall them. But on the other hand, a panic would not only cause more people to get hurt, but also cause any potential witnesses to flee the scene. And if that happened, the holocron was as good as lost.
Not that the Jedi would have minded. But in order to reach the holocron, he had to know where it was. And sending anybody that could either tell him where to look or get him to a Gungan underwater city to continue his search was not going to help matters, even if it was to save their lives. If Rutil played his hand right, nobody would die anyway.
"Dissen de place, Mister Jeedai. Yoosa findin' yoosa bongo here, metinks."
Stepping out onto the wooden dock, Rutil nodded in gratitude as the boat pulled away. The village was small; forty full-time residents at most, the settlement barely more than an outpost. And one of them would be able to point him in the right direction.
Preferably before the dark presence now shadowing him made itself known.
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Post by Alkor Centaris on May 16, 2015 14:36:28 GMT -8
"People are dying," came the wavering response.
Alkor watched the shaken civilian stare at him with a haunted expression. He heard the breath catch in the man's throat as they skated across the Nabeen sea. "I don't know what this is," he choked. "Why am I seeing this? I can't concentrate on steering-"
"You're no good to me if you can't get me where I need to go," Alkor hissed. "Concentrate. You're having a vision- the Force is thick here, and imprinted with echoes of the past. Naboo was a battlefield, back during the Clone War-"
"No," the rattled youth whispered, "it's more than that." His body shivered as the darkness caressed him and drove his mind toward madness. "I feel like... where we're going. It's going to cause something horrible."
"Forget it," Alkor snapped, "visions are like guesswork. Nothing about them is set in stone until you go out and make it real." His gaze hardened on the horizon as the boy attempted to shake off the sinking feeling. "It's getting caught in that trap, believing that what you see is a certainty, that makes it so. Disregard what you're seeing. It will pass."
The man did not feel strong in the Force. Alkor knew many non-sensitive people who, when exposed to extremes in the Force, experienced such phenomena. Part of what made broaching a Shatterpoint so dangerous was that it was a convergence in the Force. Unaligned- neither good nor evil, simply raw power that surged through anything close by.
"Calm down," Alkor insisted. In truth, he had taken measures to dampen his own connection. The flaring headache at the back of his mind spasmed periodically as the Force tried to leak through. Visions danced across his consciousness and faded just as quickly, squelched beneath his control. "We don't have time to waste. The opening is impossibly small."
"Opening?" the pilot questioned.
The fact that this boy saw the same death in his visions as Alkor unnerved the Jen'jidai. What was the nature of this thing they sought? Seek knowledge, my apprentice, the familiar voice echoed through his memory, and you will find truth. Through truth, you will gain the power to liberate yourself.
Liberate. In the voice of Plaga, the word sounded almost profane. Alkor worried at what the sudden recollection might insinuate, but he pressed aside his worry in favor of more urgent matters. "How far behind those other ships are we?"
"Not far," came the skittish reply.
"Good."
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Post by Sakri on May 17, 2015 1:51:28 GMT -8
Where Alkor's ship was behind the others, there was still one other ship close behind his. Its pilot, a golden-skinned woman with red and blonde hair, stared intently forward, the nictitating membrane across her bright green eyes slid closed to protect them from the spray of water. Though she was looking forward, it was hard for her to see, visions of pain and death dancing across her sight. She shut her eyes, letting the visions wash over her, before quickly tiring of their repetitiveness. If people were to die, then she would send them on their way to the next life. She would take no pleasure in their deaths, but neither would she shun them. She would follow her path.. wherever it led.
Finally, she opened her eyes, forcing the visions of death and dismemberment aside. There was no benefit to seeing them anymore, and she would not let them distract her when she could be aiding her travels. Alkor's boat was close enough to hers that she could make out his silhouette, as well as his pilot's. Her eyes narrowed; this was perfect. Sakri reached out with the Force, the swirls and eddies of its dark waters wrapping themselves around her as she did the same with her cloak. The currents of the dark side reached upwards, gathering the clouds, turning the breeze over the expanse of water into a wind, then a gale. Soon, there was a flurry, a furious wind behind and around her ship. Once more she delved into the dark currents, lending strength to her muscles, and Leaped forward, the wind at her back catching her cloak and lending its aid to her flight. It, as well her Force-enhanced strength, propelled her across the empty expanse between the two craft..
..until she landed on the boat's stern, the landing rocking the craft substantially, velocity adding to her momentum more than her slight frame did.
The storm followed behind her, the wind pushing the craft forward even faster, as her eyes settled on the "Jedi" before her. They lingered on him, long enough for him to turn around and lock eyes with her if he so chose, before looking forward once more, a clear indicator that they should do everything in their power to advance their journey. The Jedi already had a substantial lead, and Sakri had every intention of closing that gap as quickly as possible.
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Post by Alkor Centaris on May 17, 2015 12:54:18 GMT -8
He watched silently as the boat behind him jilted and raced out of control. The woman rode on the currents of immense power toward his craft, and the boat sighed furiously and shifted beneath her modest weight.
Alkor turned his gaze back toward her. "My boat," he asserted simply.
"Actually," the driver piped in, "it's technically stolen."
"I'm going to be honest with you," Alkor said over his shoulder, "you have about a thirty five percent chance of surviving this ride. When you talk, it doesn't help your case."
The boy withered in his seat, face paler with each second that passed. "Now," Alkor cleared his throat and deactivated the heat shields that kept the assailing winds at bay. His hair tossed wildly as he stared up at Sakri.
They did not speak for a long moment as Alkor looked her over, then shrugged. He felt no compelling need to rid himself of her if she had no intention of getting in his way.
As he turned his eyes forward, the canyons converged ahead and created narrow passages inland. "Can you navigate those quarters?" Alkor asked quietly.
"Not at this speed," the pilot answered honestly.
"Well," Alkor whispered, "that's unfortunate."
The hum of plasma hissed to life in a clean arc. His body folded and the head tumbled overboard. "I suppose that means you're driving," Alkor intoned without a backward glance.
The Jen'jidai gripped the headless corpse and tossed it gracelessly into the sea.
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Darth Andor
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Post by Darth Andor on May 18, 2015 12:25:33 GMT -8
As the Gungan Bongo Submarine continued its underwater travels, tracking the movement of the preceding Zabrak Jedi, Andor felt a darkness grow in the force behind him. Being underwater, he could not see the actions taking place between his followers, but he could sense the power as someone wielded the power of the force.*
*For a moment, the water grew choppy and the Gungan pilots had a difficult time keeping the submarine steady. Andor could feel his hate growing, at what he presumed was an attack to keep him from reaching the holocron, when all of a sudden, the water calmed and the darkness behind him dissipated to a dull throb in the back of his mind. Andor latched on to it, using it to keep a more precise location of his follower(s).*
*The energies darkside of the force that he had drew upon swirled around the Sith like a maelstrom, seeking to break from his body and wreck havoc across the seas. Images of death, bloodied and maimed bodies flickered across Andor's vision. They were no doubt premonitions of the Force, showing the Sith Lord what was to come. He relished the thoughts, feeding off the pain, fear and hate that raged in his visions. His body shivered as his cravings for death grew stronger and more realistic.*
*Andors visions vanished as the Gungan's annoying voice spoke up.*
"Ex-squeeze me. But thesa boat wessa following has-a docked at some tiny village. Whata would youssa like ussa to do?" *He was docking? Why? Andor had no doubt the Jedi would be able to sense him, as he took no time in concealing himself in the Force. Was the Jedi trying to lead him astray, leading him away from the holocron? Andor did not know, nor was he able to sense the holocron itself amongst the other presences in the force that were both stronger and closer. The Sith Lord thought hard, wondering if his own followers already knew the location of the holocron. But his instincts told him that they didn't.*
"Alright, let's break the surface. Dock a safe distance away from his vessel and wait for me until I return. There will be more credits waiting for you."*The Gungans brightened at the mention of more credits, unaware of Andor's other plans which included their untimely death. The submarine began to rise and finally it breached the surface of the water and Andor looked around, catching the approaching boat behind them. They were still a fair distance away, too far for Andor to distinguish any distinctive features. He could sense power for the pair, and he had to stop them from reaching the holocron, just has he had to stop the Jedi. And he had a plan.*
*The submarine docked and the bubble shield deactivated, letting in the cool air of the outside. Andor immediately attacked, his two hands reaching out and curving to make the cliched choking gesture at the two Gungans. The two creatures began to thrash in their seats, their hands clenching around their throats as they lost the ability to breathe. The Sith could feel their fear, rising as their lifeforce began to diminish, the lights slowly dimming until they blinked out for good. He squeezed harder until he heard two audible snaps as necks broke under the pressure. The lifeless bodies hung there, suspended by his grasp with the Force. With a wave of his hands, the two dead corpses flew from the bongo and splashed into the clear blue water of the docks. With a little push of the Force, they floated beneath the docks, disappearing from view. Finally, he got out of the boat, his boats clicking on the wooden pier. Looking around, Andor's mouth twitched into a small grin when he realized there had been no witnesses.*
*He smoothed out his merchant attire, making sure his weapons were still concealed and made his way into the village, looking for the first villager he could find.*
*Within a minute, he found a young woman aging around her mid-twenties. He stopped her, grabbing her shoulder and turning her to face him. Her brown eyes locked against his own black eyes. They widened in fear, but Andor held her still, calming her through the Force.*
"There is a Zabrak here," *He began* "He claims to be a Jedi, but he is not. He is a Sith. And he means your village harm and plans to enslave you and use you as ransom against the Naboo Royal Family. You must rally everyone you can and bring him down. I'm a Jedi sent here to help you."
*His mind broke into hers, using the Force, seeking to make his words the truth. Tendrils of corruption fingered their way into the cracks of the woman's mind, spinning a web of intricate lies and deceit. It was easy. Andor pushed deeper and her will snapped like a twig under the pressure of the Sith Lord's, caving in and succumbing to his trickery. The words he spoke came alive as he told the woman to bring the village together to bring down his opponent. He spoke words of encouragement, telling her that he was a Jedi and would stand by their side during the battle that would no doubt take place.*
*The woman gasped at the visions the Sith placed in her head, visions of enslavement and death should the Zabrak live. She ran down the street, spreading the word to every villager she passed. The Zabrak Jedi was a Sith and they had a warrior who was there to help them.*
*Fortunately, and unknown to Andor, the woman he had tricked was the wife of the Village leader/chieftain, who was highly renown throughout the tiny village. She would be able to easily influence those in the community, rallying them under one banner to bring down the Zabrak.*
*With the village being so small, it would not take long for the word to reach everyone's ears. And when the time came, they would rally together to bring him down. Soon, the Zabrak would find himself being the odd one out, until he would be surrounded by the villagers, pitted against them as they moved in to kill him.* |
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The Shepherd
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Post by The Shepherd on May 18, 2015 14:53:11 GMT -8
Rutil had barely been in the village for ten minutes when he felt the dark side start to permeate through the denizens of the small community. Its stench rode the wind, carried along by deceit and catalyzed by the natural apprehension of the unknown. Dirty looks and hushed tones were something he had dealt with extensively in his years in hiding. But those had been in seedy underbellies and crime-ridden slums. This was a fishing village and cargo waypoint on Naboo. While rare, Jedi were far from unheard of, and fairly easy to spot when they put as much effort into hiding as Rutil did. Stories of their power and their fight against injustice would have been fairly well-known, especially in the years following the Trade Federation invasion. Seeing people go quiet at his approach and shoot stares as cold as his own were one thing. To palpably feel it? To feel the dark side's cold, clammy touch as an unknown lie spread like wildfire?
This was the work of a Sith. And a cunning one at that.
Most of the self-styled Sith Rutil had come across made no effort to hide their allegiance to malice and self-indulgence. Red lightsaber, dark robes, cackling laughter, the whole shebang. Whoever this monster was, they were lying low, letting their command of others do their dirty work for them. Rutil did not have that gift of subtlety. He was no Consular; the old Jedi had never quite managed to learn patience as so many of his companions had, and it was that flaw that had kept mastery just beyond his reach. For as long as he could remember, Rutil Iorek knew he was destined to go blade-to-blade against the dark side's proponents, and had tailored his ability with a lightsaber and his talents with the Force in that direction. And most of those decades of training and experience would be next to useless here.
What he did have, however, was a fairly decent lead. Before the Sith had begun to spin his little web, Rutil had managed to glean the location of the nearby Gungan city he had been so desperately trying to reach. It was far from a complete picture, but between the directions he had received and the landmarks he had been told to watch for, he would be able to - at the very least - point a prospective submarine in the right direction. As time went on, and the village grew ever more fearful as word spread, Rutil felt less and less certain he was going to find a willing guide this time around. But the Force had led him this far, after all. It would not abandon him to the machinations of the dark side now.
Especially not when innocent lives hung in the balance; skilled though he was in various martial arts, Rutil had no doubt that the need to activate his blade to defend himself was a very real possibility. And if it came to that, it was only a matter of time before he was forced to kill someone. If and when that time came, Rutil would have only one action left to perform, and one more life to take. But that would matter only if he were pressed into action. If he acted quickly enough, it would not be necessary.
That a bongo had made its way to the docks not long ago helped matters along greatly.
Rutil found a small alley and ducked inside, closing his eyes and slowing his breathing down. He stretched out with the Force, feeling each and every soul in the village one by one; the beating of their hearts, the turmoil and fear clouding their minds, the tightening of their hands as they gripped whatever weapons they could manage to find. Slowly, their heartbeats began to slow down. Their collective exhalations became long and drawn. Moderately-paced steps slowed to a crawl. Nearby, a bird that had taken flight came to almost a dead stop, each flap of its mighty wings going agonizingly slowly. As the world around him slowed to a crawl, his feelings zeroed in on the Sith himself; cool in the growing chaos, a barely-contained wildfire in a sea of rising panic. But that was incidental; not important.
Rutil opened his eyes.
And less than a second later he was little more than a saffron-colored blur making a beeline for the docks, heading straight for the recently-vacated submarine.
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Post by Sakri on May 18, 2015 17:16:21 GMT -8
The black-clad woman had remained as taciturn as ever as Alkor spoke to her. There were no words worth saying, no power worth broaching her silence. When the fallen Jedi lit his crimson blade and spun it, her mouth opened slightly, an animal snarl once more escaping her throat as she bared her elongated canines. Her eyes glared daggers at the man as he heedlessly threw his latest victim over the edge, before closing her mouth once more to appear stoic again. She stepped forward to where the driver had been sitting, taking his place at the helm; and as she put her hand on the control stick, Sakri spoke for the first time since she had set foot on this planet.
"Rest well."
The words were a whisper, directed forward towards where the lad's hand had last been. She didn't care if Alkor overheard her. She cared even less for his opinion. The canyons loomed before them, and with a few minutes of deft maneuvering, they were through it. She allowed herself a smile at the realization that Alkor seemed mentally incapable of piloting this rather simple craft.
It was the little things in life.
There was a tremor in the Force, followed by a bongo submarine surfacing some distance before them. Her smile faded. More parties meant more complications. The submarine docked, a single figure emerging from it, and it was only a few minutes more before their skiff had pulled into a dock of its own. Her eyes narrowed as she stretched out her senses; she felt the Force churning in the village before them.
One Jedi.. and one Sith.
Her eyes glanced towards the other craft. It was the only other ship available, all the other boats presumably out fishing or docked at Theed to barter and do business. Finally, she turned and acknowledged Alkor directly.
"Move quickly."
Surely he had felt what she had as well. And what she felt now was the gathering of the Force around one individual, the being of light.
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Post by Alkor Centaris on May 18, 2015 17:40:45 GMT -8
His blade thrummed its sinister song as Sakri spoke her soft words to the damned. Alkor narrowed his gaze aw the salty sea sprayed his face, but he did not speak. He did not need to brush her mind to feel the animosity that tugged at her when he acted. His life was a tumult of haggard emotional states- hatred perhaps the most noteworthy and affluent. The woman enjoyed the simplicity of regarding the dead.
Perhaps one of her least infuriating traits.
The shift of power remained subtle, but extensive. A battlefield of discontent and terror stood before them as they raced to make landfall, then Sakri said something outright useful. Alkor marked the momentous occasion in his mind so that he could faintly praise her for it later.
Move quickly.
The maelstrom of negativity swirled around him and seeped into his mind, body, and soul. Alkor devoured the intoxicating poison from the world and poured it into his movement. His knees bent for a half second as he drove the power into the soles of his feet, and he propelled himself into motion.
In the wake of his jump, the boat creaked and rocked violently. Alkor dove through the air aided by the Force itself. Where he landed, dust and dirt kicked up like a miniature hurricane. The world trembled just around his feet, as though he were some sort of Titan whose footsteps shook the world. Sometimes he forgot the power of the Dark side.
The breath of profane power left his lungs and his shoulders sagged. In his hand, the wicked blade burned vigilant, a testament to his malicious intent. He rose slowly to stand between the racing Jedi and his precious submarine, the means by which one of them would claim the prize in the depths.
Screams of panic rose behind the Zabrak Jedi as the sight of a blood colored blade sounded the alarm. "Sith!" came the warcry, "a Sith has come!"
Alkor bowed his head and took a deep breath. In the face of this coming storm, he would be forced to unleash power locked deep within himself. The Dark side tempted him with whispers of violence and death; it drove him toward haste and reckless abandon.
His Master taught him long ago to feast on those simple urges. Gorge yourself on the things that goad you, Alkor, the deep and ancient voice resounded in his thoughts. Make them your weapon and they will never enslave you. A Jen'jidai is his own master.
Even the greatest wildfire begins with a small spark.
"Retrieve the item," he called back to Sakri.
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Darth Andor
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Post by Darth Andor on May 19, 2015 9:55:17 GMT -8
After the chieftain's wife had scurried on her way, Andor had made his way back to the the docks by means of travel along the rooftops, knowing that the Jedi would try to escape once he realized he was compromised. A Jedi would do anything to avoid confrontation, violence and the harming of innocent civilians, and the Sith Lord planned to take advantage of that.*
*His legs contracted and then extended as Andor leapt from one flat rooftop to another. The cool wind rushed through his hair as he flew forwards, his brown boots finally coming into contact with the next roof. He paused before reaching the edge as his senses picked up a multitude of things. First, he could sense the Jedi making haste, his location getting closer and closer with every ticking second. He was on the run, and as Andor had predicted, was beelining straight for the docks, and the Sith Lord. He also felt the presence of the two newcomers: Alkor and Sakri. They were below him and out of sight but their presence in the force was strong.*
*As Alkor moved to intercept the fleeing Jedi, the villagers began to amass around the dock, armed with whatever they could find: Pitchforks, shovels, hammers, knives, machetes. The small police force, a total of only six middle-aged men, had arrived wielding heavily outdated E-11 blaster rifles. Being a tiny village with very little thru-traffic, the police force had seen very little to no action, their only experience at shooting being at the targets at the station and the game that they hunted for food for their families. They began to circle around Alkor and Rutil (should he stop to confront Alkor, which seemed highly likely given they both wanted the submarine), their attention focused mainly on the Jedi, Andor's deceiving words echoing in their ears about the evil Zabrak.*
*Hidden on top of the rooftop, Andor sat down and crossed his legs. Closing his eyes, he began to reach out through the force. He drew on the village's ever strengthening fear. His mind was alert and in an instant: he saw the island like a battlefield: looking down on it from a bird's-eye view. He saw everyone as he sank deep into his battle meditation. Fingers and tendrils of darkness trickled out from his mind and began to creep into the heads of all the forty villagers, into Alkor, into Sakri, and into Rutil. He would manipulate them like a puppet master controls his puppets. He yearned to control the battle, to tire out the three force sensitives enough for him to make the final kill. Andor was the king and the villagers were his pawns. At first, his focus was directed mostly on the villagers and Alkor, as he began to amp up their energy and skill, pushing their morale to a level it wouldn't normally reach. He was like a captain of a speeder, pushing the throttle as far as it would go, and then a little further.*
*He decided to help Alkor because he could sense a strong darkness stirring. It wasn't the aura of a Sith, but it was definitely not the aura of a Jedi. And Andor could play a tag team if it meant keeping the holocron away from the Jedi. Andor thought it would be possible for him to convert this dark stranger completely to the darkside if they were able to obtain the holocron... But then again, maybe not. The Sith Lord knew to play this game with caution.*
*Meanwhile, he pulled the "throttle" down on Rutil, pushing to make things harder than usual for him. What would normally be effortless would require more concentration along with a seemingly decreasing morale. Andor knew the effects would be greater on the villagers than the two force sensitives, but he gave his meditation everything.*
*Down below, the battle was about to begin. The villagers confidence and skill grew with each passing moment, their puppeteer pulling expertly at the strings.*
*The Sith Lord sat on the rooftop, hidden from view. He sat as still as a statue, the only movement being the natural rise and fall of his chest with each breath. On the ground before him lay his two black light sabers, laying inches from his fingers to be grabbed and ignited within a moments notice.*
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The Shepherd
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Post by The Shepherd on May 19, 2015 13:50:14 GMT -8
Rutil had been right at the base of the dock, practically flying past what paltry resistance the village had managed to scramble when it hit him. He was unsure what "it" was, but it was there, interrupting his usually flawless concentration, slowly damming the onrushing flow of the Force within his body. While Rutil had never actually been under the thrall of battle meditation before, the effects he had read about were unmistakable, especially considering the events surrounding him. A Sith was at work, the villagers and their pitiful attempt at a militia was actually gathering the courage to take on a still barely-visible Jedi Knight, and the Zabrak's body - which had been honed to its physical prime and through which the Force flowed like a mighty river - felt sluggish and unsure for the first time in almost a century. What else could it have been? Whoever this Sith was, he was already proving quite the adversary...and quite the coward.
Continuing to move as the world around him desperately tried to return to normal speed, Rutil weighed his options. He could keep his momentum, charging the newcomer and going blade-to-blade with him; an encounter he was sure he would win even with his enemy's psychic interference, but left him exposed to the villagers as well as the Sith Lord itself. He could move to disable the villagers; neutralizing them as best he could before the two dark-siders moved in for the kill. A third option presented itself in disengaging entirely; letting his momentum carry him down the dock before diving into the waters and making a break for it, disabling the bongo along the way and swimming for the Gungan city. But that left him underwater, directly below a dark-sider with an ignited lightsaber, with the only beachhead held by angry thralls, all of whom were at the dubious mercy of the Sith. The holocron was important. More important was preventing either of his two foes from acquiring it.
But if he left, forty-something people would likely be slain. And a Jedi Guardian did not allow that to happen under any circumstance.
Fortunately, that led Rutil to the fourth - and most fun - of his options.
The Sith Lord's wretched presence was still as noticeable and repulsive as ever, and Rutil found it again with ease, despite the monster's attempt to dull his senses. Still keeping the world around him at a crawl with Force Speed, the Jedi banked hard to the side and hauling down the street before making another hard turn, putting him on the far side of the building that served as a lighthouse for the Sith's blackened soul. One leap took him into the side of the building, where the Jedi began to gather the Force around him, preparing himself for any countermeasure the Sith might make. Another leap and a backflip took him to the roof of the adjacent building, where he unclipped his own lightsaber from his belt and readied it in his right hand, gathering just that little bit more energy.
One final leap took him to the roof of the Sith Lord's makeshift spire, where he landed in a low Soresu stance, the snap-hiss of his royal blue blade alerting the abomination to his fate. The igniting of his lightsaber was immediately followed by the strongest Force Push the Jedi could muster then and there, aiming to knock the Sith Lord to the street below.
The fall itself would not have been fatal. But in the worst case scenario, the Sith's concentration - and thus, his battle meditation and his hold over the village - would be broken. And in the best, the bastard fell, broke his neck, and the village would rally against the man with the red lightsaber on the far side of the docks in a case of serendipitous self-fulfilling prophecy. Regardless, the villagers were out of the line of fire, and that would serve as a good start.
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