Master Prophet

(OOC: Previous Post) He could feel his muscles pulsate as the surge of beams struck his armored body, although Sly had been taken a fair amount of torture in his days of being captured by the Hutt Clan, his body physically would be unable to sustain itself with three separate shots of a stun blaster. Feeling the blasts coming only moments before they struck, he braced his body for the uncontrollable spasms that would follow and did the best to relax as he collapsed onto the floor unconscious in his physical form. Knowing that he had only one hope of surviving the encounter that he had left himself relatively unprepared for, he readied his mind just before the blaster shots hit his body. It's interesting how the mind of an individual can still run even while its body has been rendered unconscious. Your mind, when unlimited by physical limitations of flesh and bones, can be a very powerful thing; especially when that mind belongs to one of the most dangerous outlaws in the galaxy. As the two storm troopers waited for their newly un-appointed lead officer to return with their captain who fell through the cantina, they readied the body for containment. As Sly's mind was still conscious within, his connection to the force was never severed, as such, his most powerful weapon was about to bring an end to the two troopers that stayed behind to guard the body. The trooper that had pulled his interlocking cuffs felt it first. He felt somewhere from beyond, as if being struck by an invisible enemy, his arm that was holding the detaining mechanism suddenly snapped in half. The bone shot from his arm violently and shattered with enough force to splinter through the white pristine armor he wore. His partner felt it next when his left leg did the same. It was as if they were being crippled, snapped in half, by an invisible enemy; and they were. The two men screamed in agony as the pain continued on for a few more moments before their heads twisted, snapping their necks, and ending both of their lives. Through the force, Sly made his new aquentance feel his need for help as he lay only feet away from her ships. Within the hanger Mirdala felt a calm presence calling for her help, asking her to come outside. The mind is a dangerous thing, especially one as fearless as Sly's. By the time the other officer would return, he would find only the two dead bodies of his soldiers, no witnesses to the escape, a fully fueled but almost empty ship in the hangar, and only the drag marks of a body through the sand into an almost completely empty hangar. Stevenson had narrowly evaded the Empire, again.

(OOC: Previous Post) The storm trooper made a grave mistake. He clung to Stevenson and for a moment Sly jerked and bucked like a ronto bull, attempting to fling him from his back. He could sense the danger approaching as the other troopers raised their weapons and fired, but it was too late. The heat from the bursting flames shot from Sly's armored jetpack which had sprung to life, lifting the two men off the ground. The stun blasts missed by only a few calculated inches as the two lifted and went soaring into the air like a rocket shot from the ground. Had the soldier kept in close combat, he might have actually done some damage against the aging former Jedi Master, but he had made a terrible mistake by getting TOO close. You could tell from the expression on the storm troopers face, he went from having the upper hand to losing control of the fight all together. It all happened so quickly and as a result, Sly had the advantage again. It was easier now for Sly to fling the man from his back with a stiff elbow to the un-helmeted face of the man that nearly split his face open. With a simple push from the force, the trooper felt his hands separate from his grip, and realized his doom. Turning to face the falling man, Sly could see the white's of his eyes; he was close enough to see the expression of horror that came upon the man's face. He was falling, and fast. Like a rock being pulled by Tatooine's gravity to the ground, he plummeted towards the roof of the cantina. If not for his armor, he would have likely died on impact, but he would surely be rendered unconscious when he crashed through the roof and landed on a table. The crashing sound sent the bar dwellers diving for cover thinking a bomb had just gone off. Hovering above, Sly drew his lightsaber to protect him from laser bolts that would likely be flying his way soon. Tapping his helmet to initiate his comm. device he spoke; ”œI'm on my way, are both ships ready?”

(OOC: Previous Post) Sly barely had time to dodge the weapon that came at him in the blink of an eye. Strange, he hadn't seen that one coming; this imperial soldier was trained well. His focus was on other parts, and even with Sly tapping into his mind to attempt to detect his next moves, he found it difficult to sense where the man would go next. Cathair's fist struck straight in the chin of the helmet, almost knocking it clear of Sly's head; the force of his fist knocking Sly to the side and jolting his head gear to a rattle. The echo of the shock from the trooper's fist rang through Sly's helmet; almost making him regret he was still wearing the armor. "Focus" he heard his master's voice say in his head, remembering his training long ago. He quickly regained his foot, and stumbled to the side, using the momentum of the punch to carry him into a turn that placed him a few feet from where Cathair had landed his first strike. Tucked within the compartment of his armor was Sly's lightsaber, the code, waiting to be awoken. In a worst case scenario, Sly knew that if he had to save his own skin, he could quickly call upon it to end his opponent's life. Using the force to aid his step, Sly turned from his stance into a full spin kick with his armored foot aimed straight for Caithar's head. Within Sly, he knew the truth. The truth was, the former Jedi and the Imperial officer weren't the real battle. The true fight had already long ago begun and the pieces were sliding into position for his final act.

(OOC: Previous Post) He could feel them come at him through the force, their muscles flexing, their fists balling, and their kicks bracing for impact. They had clearly received hand to hand combat training while at the academy of the Empire, but they were far inferior to the skills of the former Jedi. On top of being trained in martial arts with the Jedi, he was also well trained in Teras Kasi martial arts. Whether one or one hundred, the Teras Kasi touch the skills needed to defend yourself in a hand to hand combat fight and use your body to leverage against your enemy. As with most teras kasi warriors, his fighting techniques were mostly defensive, and once the opportunity opened, a well time strike that would cripple the enemy. He could hear their grunts every time he inserted his fist into their armor sections, or his hand colliding against their face. He dipped, moved, used other combatants against each other by pushing them, or throwing them into one another; the most dangerous part was, he wasn't really using the force to aid him in defeating his enemies. With all of their helmets removed, his favorite move was to ram his helmeted head against their skull, rendering them immediately unconscious or worse. The numbers quickly began to fall, and he counted his remaining targets in his head as if it were a game to him. ”œ5”

(OOC: Previous Post) She looked at him waiting for his next move, his mind already calculating the scenarios and possible outcomes. The individuals in the bar didn't give him much time to think at all, he could sense them ready to move into position moments later. He returned her gaze, putting his helmet back atop his head, then spoke through the metallic voice. ”œGet to the ship, I will meet you there. If I'm not there within 5 minutes, pick me up rooftop.”

(OOC: Previous Post) ”œI will accompany you to Concord Dawn and assist you in acquiring what you need”¦”

(OOC: Previous Post) Sly returned her smile with what resembled his own smile, never showing his teeth, the corners of his mouth just slightly turned upward. In reality, he hadn't smiled in years and he couldn't remember the last time that he was truly happy with his life. Things, as they were, had become so complicated these recent years with all the hunting, betrayal, and deception. The hunting was something that he knew all too well now, and he thought it was bad when he was leader of the Jedi Order; that was just a warm up. He was more machine now than man, figuratively speaking; he lacked many of the characteristics that made up any normal human. His body had become accustomed to lack of sleep, scarcity of meals, and consistent dehydration. His heart hadn't felt compassion for anyone in a long time, the world he knew became darker and more difficult to find joy. All things considered he was actually in the best shape of his life from years of being on the run. Sly actually knew very little about her, only what he told her which was provided to him by a spy network contact he had used many times in his years of being on the run. Raek had become a loyal friend to Stevenson, even though they had only met a few times; they shared the passion together for the destruction of the Empire. Raek had once told Sly that if the information Sly was giving ever came back to him, that he would gladly be tortured and killed before giving anything to them. Not just because they shared the same view on the Empire, but because they had become brothers over the years, and as each mission became more successful and the holonet began to report, Raek took just as much pride in the mission as Sly had. Assassinations. Rebel rescues. The destruction of weapons facilities, ships, and personnel. All had been completed with the information Raek had supplied. Sly was grateful to his little bothan friend, for the endless information he provided which had ultimately led him here. ”œI appreciate your assistance in any way possible. I've slipped some, imperial entanglements, coming into the city.”

(OOC: Previous Post) He wasn't exactly sure how Raek had known her, possibly through other mutual contacts, but he convinced Stevenson that the only way for his mission to be an ultimate success was with her help. Sly realized that he may be coming on strong, but he didn't have time to explain, or the time to convince her to help. He knew that every moment that past by, the hunt continued and whoever was looking for him, was making progress. ”œHe did,”

(OOC: Previous Post) He moved inside the back yard apartment, lowering his head to fit inside the doorway, the apartment opening up allowing him to stand at full height again. Still unsure if this was who he was in fact looking for, he spoke again looking for confirmation; "My informant gave me information that I may find help from a Mandalorian woman in the city of Mos Eisely. I submitted myself to the will of the force and it has led me to your bar.”

(OOC: Previous Post) The metallic voice that came from the helmet softly spoke one word to her; ”œSu'cuy”

(OOC: Previous Post) His jetpack's engines cut and his metallic boots slammed against the ground; the sand sliding beneath his feet as he sunk an inch or two. Through his helmet, he took note of two imperial watchmen who stood outside the northern gates, neither patrolling nor standing on guard; he assumed they were on leave. In either case, they didn't seem much interested in his approach, and for a moment, he appreciated the deception of being within the armor suit. It had been months that he had this feeling of freedom, but he was lonely, although he probably wouldn't admit it. He missed being able to walk, just to enjoy the stroll and the stretching of his legs. He missed his conversations with strangers, and learning from their different upbringings. He missed everything. He had casually walked past the troopers and had even gotten a slight head nod and a raise of a hand that passed as a wave. He thought for a moment how different the situation would have been if he weren't wearing his helmet. Would they raise their weapon? Would they lay it down for him? Call for reinforcements? It didn't matter, because he WAS behind the mask, his deception”¦ his new face. So he had no choice but to play the part, ”œhail the Empire.”

(OOC: Previous Post) ”œWe're here, bounty hunter.”

(OOC: Previous Post) The bounty hunter's composite assault armor wasn't much to look at, that's for sure. It was plain, dark in color, and had lost its reflection years back from too many fights. He could tell that it was somewhat of a keepsake to the bounty hunter he ”œpersuaded”

Real Name: Sly Stevenson Nickname: Master Prophet/New Prophecy Age: Unknown Age. Species: Human Height: 6'5 Weight: 235 Hair: White/Silver Eyes: Light Blue Sex: Male Homeworld: Ilum Alignment: Neutral/Good Clothing: Robes Weapon: Multiple Lightsabers (assortment of sabers constructed over the years of living in hiding.) Force User or Non-Force User: Force User Inventory: Assortment of Jedi tools. Crystal Farming tools. Leather Bags that carry many Ilum grown and harvested crystals. Spare parts for constructing lightsabers. Jedi Comm. device, inventory of fallen stormtroopers Possessions: A small Imperial shuttle craft Force Side: Lightside Trained by: Lei Kim Ness / RaveN Trained who: Mes Tisserand, Eas-San Fenrir Current Affiliation: None (Former/Seeking Jedi Order) Current Rank: None (Former Jedi Master/Former Head of the Jedi Council/Reinstatement Level: Jedi Knight)

The shuttle that holds the Prophet sits idle above the space near Coruscant. Though he is too far to see any of the events, he feels them through the force. His companions lay restless below, near defeat. The lifeless bodies of the storm troopers lay on the floor now near the rear of the ship. Their bodies lay lifeless as cold as the black of space. Master Prophet does as he has for many years now, he waits.