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Piotr Malczewski

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Everything posted by Piotr Malczewski

  1. At the mention of the Sith, the two troopers he had come with raised their weapons to the craft, watching for any sign of foul play. Piotr glanced up as well, past the young woman's shoulder, trying his best to hide his concern as he spoke, his voice slowing to a deliberate pace, as though speaking too quickly may summon the creature of which she spoke. He had done well to hide the mark the Sith had left on him even secondhand after Falleen, but he worried that should he have to face one here, he may not have the courage to do so alone. He motioned to one of the troopers behind him, letting protocol take over for a moment. "Notify the Inquisitor that her services are required. We'll hold the location until she arrives." He turned back to the young woman, his attention half on her, half on the ship behind her as he watched for signs of the Sith. "And what became of the Sith who has committed such atrocities? Did you slay him? Or has he enthralled the survivors?" He couldn't hide the suspicion in his voice as he realized that the girl holding a blade that pulsed with the Dark Side may be enthralled, herself. It was only for a moment, dispelled when he realized that it was only the blade he could feel, and she had remained untouched, at least as far the Dark Side's hold went. He could only hope that she hadn't noticed.
  2. Piotr walked briskly through the crowd, flanked by two of House Malczewski's house guard, clad in the deep blue and vibrant gold of their house, their faces concealed behind their visors. When they'd received word that one of the missing refugee shuttles from Falleen had resurfaced and landed in one of their spaceports, his father had sent him to investigate. Indeed, while he was still only an apprentice with the Knights, even that much meant he was supposedly the most prepared individual on hand to deal with the potential corruption that had fled Falleen. He had long since returned Lord Contispex's armaments, receiving replacements more befitting of his own house upon his arrival. Their appearance was the epitome of a calm, prepared response. His mind, however, raced. Was this a Sith, come to track down those who had fought at Falleen? Was it some element of their corruption, meant to destroy his home and family? They approached the access to the berth where the refugee ship was moored, and he hesitated. Was he ready for this? He'd only been home for a few weeks, and he still struggled with nightmares. The young girl he had slain filled his dreams, terrorizing his thoughts as some sort of twisted reminder of what he'd done. Of what he'd witnessed. A necessary kill, he was told, but one that left it's mark on him still. The door opened, and he saw her. A wraith, covered in blood, carrying a malignant blade who's very being sucked in the Force around it, tried to corrupt it. The Sith had come, and the killing had already began. The people of his home, his family, would meet the same fate as those on Falleen. His hand wnet to the hilt at his side, and the troopers that flanked him raised their weapons. But something wasn't right- He took a moment, looking closer. Her eyes. He recognized them. They weren't familiar in the usual sense; He didn't know the refugee before him. He'd never seen her before that very moment. No, he recognized something else. He saw her eyes, the sorrow, the dull horror at an event recently witnessed. Grief. Pain. He knew them, because they looked back at him every morning and every night in the mirror, the joy and mirth stolen from their souls. Piotr released his blade, stepping forward, motioning for the troopers to lower their weapons. He knelt, meeting her level. "What happened here, child?"
  3. Tears fell unbidden down Piotr's face, leaving streaks in the dirt and grime of combat. He couldn't pull his eyes away from her lifeless body. Luckily, he didn't have to. Lord Raphanel found him, throwing a cloak over her body. He blinked as he was pulled away, and as his mind settled and he realized what had transpired. He had killed someone. In a battle, in self defense, in a scenario that no one would ever blame him, but it didn't help. He felt nauseous, closing his eyes and taking a deep, shaky breath. Raphanel's words were a cold comfort, unable to put the doubts in his mind to rest. If he hadn't been here, if she hadn't had the misfortune of attacking him in her blind fury, would she have survived? Could she have been saved? Healed? How many siblings did she have? Would her parents be mourning her come the dawn? Would she have gone on to meet someone, have children? What futures had he just rendered impossible by being in the wrong place at the wrong time? In a moment, he threw his borrowed helmet to the ground, leaning forward as last night's meal came back up to meet Falleen's dirt. He coughed, trying to clear his throat of the burning sensation the vomit had left behind. He shuddered, trying to compose himself. In doing so, he felt ashamed. Even now, he was concerned with what they would think of him. That they might think him weak, or undignified in his composure. He struggled to his feet, regaining his balance as he glanced back at the form under the cloak. He didn't speak, but he glanced at the Lord Commander, nodding his thanks. He was far from over this, but unless he wanted to get them killed here in this trench, he would have to push on.
  4. The hail of gunfire pelted the few that had survived the vanguard's push, catching any who couldn't find cover in a lethal barrage. The bolts hammered against his shield, leaving ripples in the energy lattice like rain hitting a pond. Unlike such an event though, these felt like hammer blows against his arm, threatening to unbalance him and send him to the ground by their velocity alone. His head was down, and he was braced in the mud as he tried to survive the hail of bolts. He felt something heavy press against his shoulder, and raised his head just in time to see Adrienne using his position to return fire, the bark of her blaster deafening the sounds of battle. This is where he'd die. Feet away from relative safety, caught on a battlefield on the furthest reaches of the galaxy. And for what? To liberate a planet from an enemy that was supposed to be defeated already? And then, in an instant, hope returned. A barrier erupted from the air in front of him, absorbing the blaster fire and offering him a precious reprieve. Lord Raphanel Contispex had joined the fight, and possibly saved Piotr's life. On his left, Tygo moved gracefully forward, a brilliant white light erupting from his hands. The power of the Force. Two people were able to completely turn the momentum of battle. An impenetrable wall of light. He understood why people rallied to them now, why entire armies would rally to the banners of Knights and Jedi. He felt himself carried forward, though whether it was cowardice or inspiration that moved his legs he couldn't tell. He supposed it didn't really matter. The few feet that had seemed like an insurmountable field before seemed like barely a road bump with the aid of the Knights. In seconds, he was over the lip and in the trench. For a moment, he was safe, he could catch his breath. It didn't last long. Someone rushed him. Their eyes glowed red, their body driven by some dark force. He barely caught a glance of her before she was upon him, wielding her blaster like a club. It collided against his helmet, and he smelled iron as he collided against the muddy wall of the trench. His weapon dropped to his feet, and it was only his instinctual raising of his shield that prevented a second blow from connecting with his head. It hit the shield with a power that belied the young woman's frame, and as she raised her weapon for another blow, he pushed off the wall, driving his shoulder into her. She lost her footing in the mud, slipping backwards as he pushed against her. She hit the ground, her neck colliding with a box. Even with the sounds of war drowning out everything, he could have sworn he heard a wet pop as her neck broke. The eerie light faded from her eyes, and he couldn't look away. They were the same color as his younger sister, little Emilia's. The fighting around him was already moving on- the defenders' morale was low already, and with an elite force bearing down in close combat, the first line melted away like conscripts. And even though he had survived this attack, he was frozen, his eyes glued to those of the dead girl who sat mere feet away from him,
  5. Dirt showered Piotr as he was swept up in the advance across the field towards the trenches of Falleen. An armored speartip shattered across the shield of House Contispex, one of the greatest houses in the Sovereign alliance. It was here that Piotr was expected to find himself. To become a man, a staunch defender. A warrior, a champion of the light. He was supposed to be filled with jubilant reverie at the idea of freeing the world from the Dark Side. The birth of a champion. But all he felt was fear. It paralyzed him. It turned his legs to stone, and his arms to jelly. How was he supposed to fight this? Their foe had LAVs, mounted weapon emplacements, and a horde of unwavering warriors. All he had were a blade and a shield made for a man much more worthy. Had his father sent him to die? A mortar landed a few yards away, killing two men and sending him to the dirt from the force of the blast. He hit the ground and rolled, struggling to his feet as the battle came into focus. He froze, raising his shield instinctively as friendly forces pushed past him. He'd just watched people die. It was the first time he'd been exposed to death, especially on such a large scale. He was pulled out of his thoughts by an armored hand grasping at his arm. He looked over to see Adrienne looking at him intently. "If you stop, you die. You need to move." She yanked him forward, out of his stupor. She was right. Staying there, in that open field, if the mortars and defenders didn't kill him, then the armored forces behind them would trample him. Ironically, the safest place to be right now was right against the trench. He followed close behind as she pushed forward, following in her wake as she moved troops aside with her presence. She wasn't a great lord or a renowned warrior, but she wore Contispex's heraldry, and was marked as one of their own. He tried to spot Kyrie, or Raphanel, or even Tygo, but in the chaos of battle, finding individuals was nearly impossible. When he looked back in front of them, they were only meters away from the trenches- Friendly forces were already inside, but he was forced to raise his shield beside Adrienne as they came under fire from a second line. "Get in, now!"
  6. Piotr exited their craft right behind Kyrie, wrinkling his nose at the smell. He'd never been in a jungle before- He wasn't ready for the smell of decay that permeated everything. He'd trained on the way, and while he had a solid understanding of the blade work required of him, he didn't yet have the muscle mass nor memory yet to use it effectively. Still, it was a start, and while he wasn't confident that he could beat a trained Sith, he could probably survive against a cultist or two. A number of K-Wings escorted by A-Wings flew close overhead, screaming across the sky as they began the preliminary bombing. They were on the outskirts of the capital, preparing to charge a trench system that protected the entire city. Edsbryder was in the lead with what was likely his own house's forces, with Kyrie and himself inside the formation of troops. His armor was heavy despite the time he'd spent training in it, a side effect of his soft upbringing. What would his father say if he saw him now? He had hoped that Piotr would become someone worth inheriting House Malczewski's titles and responsibilities, and yet here he was, barely able to keep up with the marching pace set by those before him. Beside him strode Adrenne Contispex, one of their many daughters that had been present on Chandrila. She'd hardly left his side since they had left the dinner, though whether that was what she was told to do or if she genuinely enjoyed his company was yet to be seen. Much to his surprise, she had joined them in the shuttle, fully equipped for battle. Was this what it meant to be the scion of a sovereign House? That every member be able and expected to deploy to combat zones?
  7. Piotr took a deep breath as he stared at the steak knife in the chair. Any words of retort were quickly shut down by the Lord Commander's words, and likely for the better. He bowed his head in humility as he was offered equipment from Lord Raphanel's own house. This was a chance to repair some of the damage that had been done, and he would take it. "Your generosity humbles me, Lord Commander. I will make sure to find my own in time so that I may return these to your House, where they belong." He pulled the steak knife from his chair, tilting his head to the Inquisitor as he did so. This wouldn't be the last time they would clash, he was sure. But then, had he expected any less? The man had a vested interest in protecting his order from charlatans and traitors, and his own reputation wasn't exactly stellar. Whether the inquisitor knew the specifics of why he was here or not, it was bound to cause conflict. Still, there were more pressing matters at hand it seemed. He let his smile return as he lifted his glass. "And I would be honored to learn under a master such as yourself, Master Kyrie. I'm sure that even in the limited time we have before going to Falleen, I will be able to learn much from you."
  8. Piotr crossed his arms, pulling his hand away from the young daughter of the Lord Commander's house. His expression darkened- it seemed his reason for being here did not entire slip away unnoticed. Still, their responses were not wholly comforting. He was caught in a hard place here- His most appealing option was to shut up and take his licks, and risk some of the most powerful and influential figures in the Alliance thinking him nothing more than a spoiled brat. Which, of course, he was, but such things became much more uncomfortable when pointed out by others. Unfortunately, that left him in the same place that had gotten him assigned to the Knights in the first place. A blight on his father's precious House. Such a position wouldn't help his current situation in any form. And so, he would have to take the less favorable option. Defend himself and risk angering some of the most powerful and influential figures in the Alliance. He hated politics. When he spoke, he kept his voice low and level, not hiding his anger at the situation, but keeping it from those not present for the conversation. "Lord Commander, while I appreciate that lives will be lost in any serious endeavor against the Sith, I did not think a man of your talents and station would be so eager to send an untrained and unequipped man to his death; and though my valor and my privilege have every reason to be called into question given my reputation's stain upon my house, I find it telling that what has called it into question is that I'm concerned about what it means to be dragged into battle of potential Sith Lords with no training against such foes, not equipment save the clothes upon my back." He took a deep breath- He could only imagine what his father would do had he heard that outburst. When he spoke again, the anger was gone. Any pretense of jest or petty tomfoolery were gone now, and any who had met those of his line would recognize the determination in his eyes. "I apologize for my outburst, I don't mean to imply that any of you are blind to the deaths of your peers and your people. But I have been a member of this Knighthood for less than a week, and all I have heard is how I will die a glorious death for the Emperor against the horrors of the Sith, and if I dislike that, I can retire to a farm and die an old forgotten fool who cowered at the first sight of danger when in reality I am only requesting the tools necessary to survive this trial by fire."
  9. Interesting. The Lord Commander either didn't care about his remark, or didn't think it was worth addressing in the moment. Regardless, it made sense that a man of such station wouldn't react to such provocations easily. Still, it was best if he behaved himself for the rest of the dinner, at least as much as he was able. It seemed their table was growing rapidly, and with several esteemed persons. The Lord Commander Raphanel and the legendary exorcist Kyrie, in one place? Something interesting was bound to happen, whether he instigated it or not. He bowed his head respectfully, giving a lopsided grin. "It seems I have misread the room. A pleasure to meet one as esteemed as yourself, Master Kyrie. I hate to kill the mood, but if we're going to Falleen to root out the last of the Sith, should I not have... any training before I go? Not that I doubt the abilities of any present, it just seems foolish to take me without any sort of training or equipment, where I would only be a hamper on your abilities."
  10. Piotr grinned as their company drew more Imperial Knights- a welcome distraction from the Lord Commander's family attempting to wed him to their daughter. It would hardly do him any good to return in a week with a woman on his arms, proclaiming himself a changed man, as humorous as the idea was. No, he was much more intrigued by the two new arrivals. A man of clearly noble birth, but with table manners nearly as poor as his own, and another Harlequin, an alien, one who seemed unsure of her place here. Another opportunity to test his newfound allies, and his current host. "Please, don't apologize. We're all allies here, there's no reason you shouldn't join us for a meal. I believe this gentleman was just about to regale us with stories of his valor?" He shot a glance at the other newcomer as he spoke. He was vastly overstepping his bounds- The Empire had a relatively strict caste system, one that lowborn aliens often found themselves at the bottom of. Even outside of that, he was not the host, and to invite a guest to the host's table could be considered a massive faux pas. He glanced at Montjoye- She could probably put together what he was doing. He'd done it to her not a few hours ago, feigning ignorance for an honest look at her character. She had every opportunity to spoil this attempt, but would she?
  11. His voice was quiet as to not alert those fixated on them of their conversation as they were introduced. "Is that truly your hope? That I see such horrors that I cannot go back to a normal life? If that's what the knights rely on for retention, then we live in a sorry galaxy indeed." Piotr chuckled, nodding humbly as they were introduced, stepping forward in sync with his new guardian as his demeanor shifted. This was his domain. She was visibly uncomfortable- It hadn't occurred to him that she might not have been acclimated to such things, or that her station, even as a knight, might be considered below such occasions. He felt a twinge of pity. It was always a sharp contrast to his own life, witnessing how the court treated those outside of it. "Don't worry, as soon as they know why I'm here, I'll likely quickly overtake you in the topics of conversation. It's not often the heir of a house is forcibly conscripted into the Imperial Knights." As they approached the Lord Commander, Piotr straightened his posture. "Lord-Commander, it's a pleasure to meet you. My father has told me of your heroism at Kuat. You do your station justice." In truth, he wanted nothing more than to slink off and listen into court gossip, stirring the pot where he could. But he knew that would only make his current predicament worse. Badmouthing a lesser district governor was much less harmful than speaking out of turn to the Lord-Commander of the Imperial Knights, someone who could actively make his family's life difficult if he was offended.
  12. He smiled- It had worked. She spoke her mind, beyond the mantras and doctrines of the Imperial Knights. She was a protector. She wanted to keep everybody safe, and he would wager that if she didn't reign in those ideals, she would wear herself thin. Still, it gave him something to work with. He shrugged earnestly, coming clean to his actions. "I must admit, the things I said were purposely inflammatory. You don't get a reputation for garnering reactions in the Imperial court without knowing what to say to get such a reaction. But even if I wanted to serve on the line for as long as it took, it must get tiring being forever wwdatchful. Surely, the fight must end eventually. You must aim for a time you can lay down your weapons and return home, otherwise what's the point?" He stood, gazing at the remnants of her projections, shaking his head. "What's more, if numerous Jedi couldn't stop such beasts from ravaging entire worlds, what am I going to do? What are you going to do? Do you believe that you could do better than Jedi Masters and entire planetary defense forces? That's the height of arrogance, even more so, it's dangerous to assume I, unarmed and untrained in the ways of the Force, could do any better than merely be a speedbump on the Sith road to victory." "Make no mistake, I'm here to clear my name, to return home and live a humble life next to my family on Carida, but it's been made clear to me that won't happen until I serve with distinction in the Imperial Knights. So I won't resist your training, but if you expect me to meaninglessly throw myself against eldritch horrors so that I can be added to their body count, you're wrong."
  13. Piotr was silent for a while after she spoke, contemplating her words. It hadn't occurred to him that the Imperial Knights might take their jobs so seriously. He wondered if they were all this steadfast in their beliefs, or if he had just happened upon one of their zealots. Either way, for the time being at least, he was stuck with her. It was worth seeing what made her tick. "But that seems rather ineffective, doesn't it? How much manpower is wasted on the off chance someone decides to be a Sith or start killing people with the Dark Side?" In truth he knew the ignorance of his words- It was like suggesting a sovereign power shouldn't maintain a military because who would want to hurt them? But that didn't matter- Some of the best and most genuine reactions he got out of people were from the times he was being intentionally dense with the worst takes imaginable. Would she respond with anger that he be so insolent? Pity at his apparent stupidity? Understanding of his ignorance? Much could be gleaned from how someone responded to ignorance. "I think we'd be better off leaving the Force shenanigans to the Jedi and the Sith. It's not our business."
  14. Piotr's eyes darted around as he was led out of the servant's passage like some chastised dog, and he pulled his wrist away, rubbing it absentmindedly with his other hand. She hadn't hurt him, but he'd just happened to discover that he didn't like being led around by the wrist, especially by someone who's been essentially hired on to straighten out his behavior. He followed her through the streets, his head low as he tried to avoid recognition. "You don't have to lead me everywhere, you know. I came willingly- Or rather, as willingly as I could, given the circumstances." Luckily, it was early enough in the morning that not many were out. Still, that didn't save him from hushed whispers and stolen glances from the people that walked the streets at this hour. While they had no context to what he was doing out, it seemed that his mere presence elicited gossip now. He slowed, only sparing a brief look around before catching back up. Had he really gotten that out of hand? That the common folk gossiped just at the sight of him? A traitorous part of him understood why, if that were the case, his father had taken the actions that he had. Eager for a distraction from this realization, he looked at the young Imperial Knight. "You mentioned aiding the Jedi and their rebellion- I was under the impression we had already won." His voice dropped in pitch, a mocking narrative tone taking over. "That we had shattered the Sith armada over Nar Shaddaa, and sent their ruling class fleeing into deep space for fear of their own comeuppance."
  15. Piotr glanced back to his father. It was a last attempt at a way out. A vain hope that his father would back down now in the face of sending his son to war like this. No such surrender was found- Ludomir Malczewski had fought in the brutal campaigns of the Sith's resurgence, his accomplishments in those conflicts what had given him reign over Carida, even if only temporarily. He remembered what the man had suffered after his fight was over, and feared the same coming to his own psyche. Regardless, in this moment at least, he would rather risk that as the Sith Empire collapsed than be fully and truly alone. He looked back to Montjoy, taking the letter gently. While he was certainly unhappy with the current situation to say the least, rejecting such a letter would only hasten his fall from grace. He was quiet for another moment as he looked at the letter, before lifting his eyes to meet hers, the fire of defiance making no effort at hiding itself. "It seems you have, Knight Montjoy. I presume my father wants me out of his holdings, so I will let you lead the way to wherever our next destination may lie."
  16. Both Piotr and his father glanced at the new arrival, and a rare moment of synchronicity was shared between them as they sized up the Knight together. His father was the first to react- He was already standing, but he moved out from behind his desk and gave her a respectful nod as she introduced herself. "I hope that we live up to the reputation in your brief visit, Knight Montjoy, and that you enjoy your visit to Carida. We've worked hard with the rest of the Empire to rebuild our home. I am Count Ludomir Malczewski, head of the House and the acting governor of Carida until the Empire can assign a new Moff. This is my son, Piotr, and the reason for your visit. I trust you've been briefed by those who have sent you?" Piotr stepped forward stiffly, examining the woman as he held out his hand politely. He knew better than to act out in the presence of his father. Regardless on what else he had to say on the matter of his conscription into the Knights, he knew he wasn't in a position to reject them. Perhaps in a year or two, his father would see the error in his ways and ask him to return, and he could renounce his commission to return home. Regardless, he doubted that she had the ability to truly interfere in his activities. She was young, likely younger than he was, though it was hard to tell. Her robes hid her stature and her status, though her boots and her getup indicated that she was more than likely from a lower class. "A pleasure to meet you, Knight Montjoy."
  17. "This is outrageous. It's unfair." Piotr scowled at his father, an aging man who sat before him at a desk. He had called Piotr to his office, a rare occurrence. It should have been the first sign that something was about to go very poorly for him. Despite his age, nigh, perhaps due to it, he still held considerable power on Carida, and a not insignificant amount in the core worlds. At first glance he was a shrewish man, his bearing that more akin to a banker than an intimidating political powerhouse, something that had caused his opponents to misjudge him more than once. Piotr was not an exception to this. "What's outrageous is your treatment of our name. Time and time again you've dragged it through the mud. I've tried to tolerate you- the bonds of family are strong, and you have a good mind for politics, even if you so rarely use it. But you need to grow up. You aren't a teen anymore, and I'm getting older. This behavior will cease one way or another, but I'm tired of waiting for you to make the right choice, so I'm making it for you." It had been an accident- a silly joke that had gone to far. He'd whispered something obscene about a count's wife, well intending to be long gone by the time it reached the count. Alas, that did not happen. The count had, in his infinite wisdom, lost his composure, loudly and publicly accusing Piotr of slander. Another scandal in a long line- and enough to apparently convince his parents to take drastic action. "It was a silly comment, not one worth sending me away like some reprobate. The Count over-reacted." "You suggested his wife was not only leaking our defenses to the Sith, but that she was sleeping with a Sith Lord. He had a perfectly reasonable reaction, and I've had to pull considerable strings to stop you from being imprisoned. The condition, which came at my recommendation, was that you would either join the Imperial Knights, and rebuild your name, or I would strip you of your titles and your wealth. The consequence of spending your time dancing about instead of building your own wealth or connections is that you are entirely at my whim." "So much for being your son." His father stood slowly, looking into Piotr's eyes. "You are still my son. I still love you. But I have to protect the rest of the family, and right now that means protecting them from your antics. This is not up for debate- the Knights are here and already on there way in. You'll either leave with them, or alone, but you will leave until I deem that you've fixed your behavioral issues."
  18. PIOTR'S CHARACTER SHEET Identity Real Name: Piotr Malczewski A.K.A: x Homeworld: Carida Species: Human Physical Description Age: 22 Height: 5'11 Weight: 159 Hair: Brown Eyes: Brown Sex: Male Equipment Clothing or Armor: Fine garb befitting a noble- blues and golds are very prominent. Weapon: None Common Inventory: Credit chip. communicator Faction Information Force User, Force Sensitive or Non-Force User: Force user Archetype: Paladin Alignment: Light Current Faction Affiliation: Imperial Remnant Current Faction Rank: Squire History Force Side: Light Side Trained by: Trained who: Known Skills: Background: The first son of a prominent noble family on Carida, Piotr was always expected to carry forth his family's proud legacy as a defender of Carida. He promptly looked to drop any semblance of responsibility, instead looking to rely on his family's name and good graces to coast by. He was involved in many scandals and other incidents, and would have lost his nobility had it not been for the discovery of his sensitivity to the Force. His family gave him a choice- Join the Imperial Knights and rebuild his reputation, or be left nameless, penniless, and humiliated. This hasn't stopped his quick wit or his lack of restraint, but it has focused it away from the courts of Carida, much to the relief of the local counts and countesses. Ship Registration Name: x Class: x Model: x Manufacturer: x Length: x Armaments: x Armor: x Anti-Personnel Defenses: x Modifications: x Appearance: x
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