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Hagark

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Hagark last won the day on June 5 2023

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  1. Pariah had to stop to admire the Sith Lord’s work. When the beast fell, his laughter stopped and turned to silent awe. “My my my, how does the calypso cause punies to die?” Calypso turned to Pariah and gestured for him to finish the beast off. “What sweet gift the lady gives!” Pariah exclaimed and giggled, jumping up and down on all four limbs. “To allow us to choose if the beast lives!” Pariah charged the Rancor. Jumping onto its arm and crawling along its body, Pariah found himself directly on the Rancor’s head. Pariah drew a small knife from his side. But instead of attacking the Rancor, he did something different. He reached around to his backside, and grabbed one of the large budding mushroom stalks sprouting there. With a quick slice and a cut, he pulled the mushroom from his back. “With commands from the spore, I spread its curse evermore.” Pariah chanted to the mushroom in hand. It moved unnaturally alive in his hands, a gas of spore dust beginning to fall from it like a leaking coolant pipe. “Now take this gift, fellow thing, and hear the spore’s voice sing!” With its chant finished, Pariah forcefully slammed the mushroom into the Rancor’s left nostril hole. The thing inhaled it easily enough, and began to cough and choke in surprise. Pariah wasted no more time and jumped off from the beast and ran back to Calypso. Battered, beaten, confused, scared and riderless, the painted rancor followed the one rule all life followed. It attempted to survive. And this time, it did so by running away. As it got to its feet again, instead of attacking, it turned and began to lurch away, roaring the entire time in hope to scare off these predators that might kill it. “The Great Spore whispers…” Pariah said to Calypso as he watched it run. “That it will die. And once it does, its rage will fly.” Virago landed behind the two with a thud. His giant stature compared to the two made an interesting sight. “Our shaman rests, but hungers still. Come, grab some bodies, for her fill.” Pariah held up a hand. “Wait wait! Calypso will fly us away?” Virago nodded. Pariah held his hands up. “Then Calypso, listen to what i say! The Spore advised you, and we followed. Its words have never rang hollow! Your great power, I do now see. Get us off world, and we serve with you eternally!” Virago snorted at Pariah’s proclamation and went on his way to collect the Felucian bodies that could be salvaged. The rations they would provide after restoring Shaman would allow the three to make a long journey in space theoretically .
  2. Shaman collapsed after a few more throws of her boiling liquid. On all fours, she screeched and groaned at the pains that shot through her body. Her little body shook in weakness, her bones barely holding her up. A noise caught her attention. Giving fully into the darkness, she leapt forward as newfound power surged. The hunter was not expecting such energy from one so old and hunched. The two rolled over onto the ground, grunting and roaring at each other. But where the hunter fought with strength, Shaman fought with the hunter. Her jaw snapped over and over as she attempted to take bites out of the hunter. “Flesh! Flesh! I will have fresh flesh!” The Shaman screeched before finally getting a full bite from the hunters throat. Shaman swallowed the meat hungrily as the hunter clutched his bleeding neck. Not satisfied, she continued to feed, unable to restrain herself any more. The rancor roared. Shaman looked up. The beast loomed over like the titan it was. Still, Shaman screeched back at it, her face tendrils extended fully towards it. Even as it began to reach for her, she continued to screech. If she was to be eaten, she would at least try to eat its flesh as well… A burst of thick green gas exploded in the rancor’s face. The beast turned away as the spores created by Pariah stung its eyes and nose. “Oooh, such a nasty beast!” Pariah laughed as he landed near Shaman. Shaman growled at Pariah, reaching for her fellow cultist for another bite of flesh. “Not yet, not yet, he’s not the feast.” Virago stated as he landed near Shaman and began to restrain the Shaman. “Handle the beast. To safety I will take…” Pariah nodded to the two cultists and ran towards the Rancor. “If I must, then the Spore shall unmake! Let this be their last mistake!” The rancor’s rider had finally regained control and began to guide the beast towards the three. From atop, the rider pointed a singular sword at the group. “Hehe, come come, fight me! Or perhaps, fight what you see?” Pariah laughed. As the beast brought a fist down, Pariah jumped to the side and began to spray again. However, instead of the thick green plumb of spores, a thin pod came from his mouth and hit the Rancor in the face. Immediately, a pink gas erupted. At first, the Rancor stumbled, but no worse for wear, roared again and lurched forward. However, it stopped before it could take a swipe at Pariah. It began to sniff and look around confused. The rider tried to get the animal to focus, but instead of listening, the rancor began to swing its arms around wildly at unseen foes. “Haha! Fight what you see!” Pariah giggled as he ducked beneath a wild swing that knocked over several mushroom trees. “Will you stop fighting me?” Virago growled as he landed back into the open hangar bay. Over his shoulder, Shaman continued to kick and flail wildly. “Flesh! Meat! I must eat flesh and meat!” Shaman screeched. She attempted to scratch at Virago’s skin, but even when she tore the flesh apart, she found it was mostly mycelia and very little flesh. “Not the spore! I must feed the Great Spore!” Shaman griped. Virago looked at Calypso and the ship. “I’ll restrain her, for Shaman must survive this war.” With that, Virago made steps towards the vessel. Outside, the beast roared again as more trees were knocked down. Now, it was using one of the mushroom trees like a club, swinging wildly in the air at something only it could see. Pariah could be heard laughing over the commotion.
  3. The Technician the Sith Empress left for the Felucians was quickly devoured. Unhinging his jaw, Virago opened wide and began to swallow as much of the technician as possible. When the poor soul began to get caught, Virago began to growl and snarl. The darkness radiated off the large Felucian as it’s upper torso began to grow suddenly. Skin ripped, revealing a mass of chartreuse yellow mycelia underneath encasing the revealed muscles like another layer of skin. Already pushed against the ceiling of the building, Virago had to stretch out on the floor just to make more room for his newfound size. Slowly, the human, still screaming, slid further and further in, until Virago could close his mouth. Just as quickly as he grew, he suddenly began to shrink back down to his normal, albeit still large, size. Inside his belly, bones and body parts snapped as they were pushed on top of each other, rapidly devoured by the fungus inside. Now with a literal full belly, Virago seemed to calm down. “Delicious meat…” Virago said. “Aye, always an amazing feat!” Pariah chuckled as he raced past on all fours. “Come, let's follow our sweet.” When the two caught up with Calypso, Virago looked confused at the specimens. “For us to eat? Nay, not as sweet…” “Nay!” Pariah corrected his larger cultist member. “That is her own treat!” Pariah looked at the ship ahead and, laughing under his mask, began to dance. “Ah, the spore was right! A way to leave! To think, to think, I almost didn’t believe! Do you, wicked lady, know flight? Shall we leave to great skies tonight?” Outside, however, was a different story. Taking care of her new found creation, giving the drone plenty of small pieces of dried meat from her satchel, the shaman heard a crashing in the jungle foliage. Looking up, she witnessed several beings step into the clearing. There was no words amongst anyone. Everyone knew what was going to happen. The last of the cultists had been tracked and found by these warriors, would be eradicated. To the natives of the planet, the cult was a darkness that, left unchecked, would spread and consume the world, and possibly the rest of the galaxy if outsiders got involved. The only answer to this cancerous problem was complete destruction. The first warrior charged first, blade drawn. Shaman however reacted by calling on her new servant, who rushed in the way. Despite losing a limb, the humanoid drone did not stop. Its hunger drove it past all sense of pain and bit into the warrior’s exposed arm. The two went down wrestling each other. Some of the other warriors joined in to help their comrade. Shaman smiled and reached into the Force. Calling on the Darkness through the Great Spore, she twisted her arm. Immediately, the drone’s head exploded, releasing a cloud of spores to the hunters, dooming them to becoming a drone after their death. While the warriors were still stunned and reeling from the attack, Shaman tapped her cooking pot on the ground with her knife and then sliced her left hand. Dripping blood into the pot, she began to chant. “Double double, toil and trouble. Fire burn and cauldron bubble!” Suddenly, the pot began to hiss as moisture evaporated off its sides from some invisible heat source. Inside, the blood began to boil and multiply, creating a broth of sickening rusty red. Shaman held her hand above the liquid, drawing further on the darkness. The boiling substance rose into the the air and, with a flick of her hand, was thrown out at the nearest Felucian. The warrior screamed as the stuff burned through armor and skin alike. Shaman began to cackle madly as she pulled her arm back and moved the liquid to another target, burning their face to the bone underneath. However, the ground still continued to shake. Shaman gritted her teeth and continued her gruesome work. She only had to stall until her other members could return to help. There was no way she could fight off one of the Rancor Riders. Even her spores would take time to convert such a beast to her side, and time was not a luxury she had. The only benefit was this was a small war party, and no doubt hadn’t signaled the Great tribe yet. They were young warriors, too eager on glory and zealotry. Still, even now, she could see the painted marks of the Felucian Rancor breaking through the foliage. Felucian Rancor
  4. Hagark

    Space

    “Ylsia” Hagark tasted the word in his mouth, sounding each syllable carefully like one who had only recently learned the language. “Refugee camps… interesting. Perhaps great Quest can go from there. Smaller quests lead to Great Quest. Information and food make good spoils. Few trophies, but good loot. Ylsia sounds good.” Hagark continued to follow into the Jedi and Togruta to the dropship, preferring to crawl over walking on two legs. When it eventually left and the group boarded the star destroyer, Hagark instantly noticed the difference. Like the transport ship, the air was recycled and stale, but here it was noticeably thicker with the presence of more sentience. To the native Felucian, who grew up on fungus rich Felucia and did not know how ships worked, there was more life on this vessel. “Make sense…” Hagark commented to himself as glanced every which way, his face tendrils swaying wildly with his turning head. “Bigger hunting ground, more creatures. Wonder if could acquire one for Great Quest. Indeed hollow horn?” Hagark glanced again at the Togruta and wondered silently. The Togruta was certainly a hunter, but back at the transport ship with the pirates, the whisperings seemed interested in Vekra. A few questions ran through the primitive mind, but in the presence of the Jedi, he didn’t dare ask them yet. They could wait until Hagark could feel solid, earthy ground at Ylsia. “Breeze goes far…” Hagark commented. “ Ylesia far from home. But Great Quest goes with the breeze. I interested in your Quest too. But that wait until landing. First, food. You hungry, yes? I am always hungry. Warrior!” Hagark called the Jedi out. As he did, he stopped and patted his belly, which made a loud gurgling sound, despite the snacking he had done on the transport ship. “Still hungry. Gave you loot from hunting ground for transport. You carry spare rations for hungry hunters? Strength run further on full bellies”
  5. At Calypso’s words, the three Felucian’s looked at each other. Wherever they were expecting, it wasn’t this. They had not expected laughter and prideful boasting. When she left, the three spoke quietly to each other. “What you think? Is she wise? We follow, we chase, to our demise?” Pariah asked, crouched on the ground rubbing his face tendrils curiously. “Perhaps the Spore was wrong…” “Silence!” Virago boomed at the comment. “Or you won’t live long! Never deny the Great Spore’s works. No matter who the Spore does choose…” “Besides, what have we to lose?” Shaman added as she hobbled closer to Virago. She tapped on the large Felucian, who quietly bent down to scoop her back into a fetal position in his arms. “Follow, follow, let us follow. The Hunters come. Follow, follow, and let the drones have their fun!” Nodding, the two other Felucians took off after Calypso. The drones they left behind began to wonder in different directions. No longer guided, they would attempt to consume whatever they found. Eventually, other Felucians, trying to find the cult of the Spore, would find them and put them down. But by then, the trio would be far from the scene. _____ The trio arrived at the station just as Calypso disabled the communication dish. Silently, the three observed the dark lady’s works. When she rushed into the station, Shaman made a motion to be let down. “Follow, follow, find her plans. The Great Spore will need and army to command…” The two nodded and gave pursuit into the station. As they did, Shaman wondered closer to the building, towards the technician that Calypso had already killed. “The Great Spore will enjoy this delicious man” Shaman commented. Wordlessly, she shoved what looked like a small green pod inside the man’s nose, before pinching the nose together, breaking the pod open. Immediately, the spores attached and began to spread, rooting themselves into the man’s blood vessels, and, more importantly, the nerve cells that connected directly to the brain. Shaman stepped back. The corpse began to move on its own. The Great Spore had taken root and had created a new drone. One that was hungry. Shaman smiled as she began to follow the others. Virago and Pariah who followed, ignored the bodies and pursued. While Virago had to bend over to fit through some of the more tighter doorways, Pariah kept up with ease, giggling slightly. “Seeds, thats what you seek? Seeds,so soft yet sleek?” Pariah asked as he followed, bounding like a Kowakian Monkey Lizard. A Klaxon alarm went off. Someone monitoring a camera had noticed the intruders and sent out the small security team the research station could afford. Three guards popped around a corner, wielding blaster rifles. Without missing a beat, Pariah stopped and all of his face tendrils pointed towards the guards. A stream of thick green smoke-like gas shot out. As the stream struck the lead guard, the gas suddenly exploded outwards, clogging the hallway ahead. The guards began to cough violently as breathable air began to vanish, replaced by choking spores enhanced by mineral rich foods that Pariah had stored up in his body. Pariah drooled as he started to approach the guards, but Virago responded first. While the large Felucian had to slow down due to the small hallways, the smell of meat made him go berserk. With a roar, he shoved both Calypso and Pariah aside and into the choking gas. Moments later, a body was thrown outwards towards Pariah and Calypso, as screams continued, followed by chomping noises. “Oh, so sweet, always remembers…” Pariah commented as he jumped on the body that crashed before him. Pariah placed both sucked hands on the guards head and twisted, killing the man instantly. Following this, Pariah pulled upwards and ripped the skull right off, a trail of vertebrae following. “Even when starving, he cares for his members.” Pariah continued as he licked the newly acquired spinal cord. The guards' screams ended, and the only noise was Virago comping on something juicy “So seeds, that’s what we find? These seeds, exactly what kind?”
  6. When Calypso dropped, the drones turned their non-sentient gaze on her and began to reach for her. The fresh meat before them would be consumed. It would be devoured and added to their mass. And the remains, if any, would be consumed by the Great Spore, and serve as fuel for… “Stop!” Pariah shouted, raising a hand. He quickly used the suckers on his appendage to make several pucker sounds, to which the drones became still, unmoving but eyeing Calypso hungrily. “Is this what we seek?” Virago asked, laying Shaman onto the dirt covered floor. “Is this, the Vesh, the thing unique that the Spore has us meet?” “Perhaps, perhaps brother…” Pariah commented, crawling closer to Calypso. Even as she demonstrated her power, the two didn’t seem to hesitate to get closer. Pariah even began to circle Calypso, darting forward and back like a dog uncertain about a thing. “Or perhaps, this thing be an other, a false cover over a lonely mother?” “Ah but her power, little Pariah, do you see?” Virago commented, striding closer, his height more apparent with each step. “See how the force reacts to her a degree? That be power, yes it is…” “Power, or anger, ugly siz?" Pariah interrupted. “Anger is temporary, power forever. Can she call upon the Force whenever?” As the two spoke, not really acknowledging Calypso, Shaman finally held her head up from the ground, a pile of mud with worms in her mouth. “Silence you two, listen good. Listen to my words, as you should.” She blurted, slop spilling everywhere. The two quickly became quiet and backed off from Calypso. Shaman pulled herself up and swallowed the last gulp of worms in her mouth, and hobbled over to Calypso, her cooking pot dangling around her neck. The drones gaze turned to Shaman and slowly began to break off, turning their attention to the environment. It was clear Calypso was not their next meal. “If she who the Spore desires, then we help. And should she prove false, well, then we eat the whelp.” Shaman stood a few feet from Calypso. Her hunched body forced her to look up and the woman, and yet she seemed to not mind. “Tell us, Vesh, why you breathe our air. Why Felucia, the Jedi’s lair? You sought us, and we sought you. If you were a Jedi, we’d already eaten you. Did Hagark find you, maid of murk? Did you come to perform some gruesome work?“
  7. Hagark

    Space

    Hagark’s eyes flickered to the person’s weapon again. This being handled it like one of those Jedi back home. Those weapons, that were both magic and machine, were wielded by a select few as far as he knew. He wondered if this person knew what he was, or just saw him as something else. As Hagark followed, he licked his mouth underneath his mask. Such beings who wielded such weapons would make worthy meals. But like rancors, they would be much too deadly to fight at the moment. The loot may have been tempting, but the Jedi was not a wise target yet. “Noble quest…” Hagark stated, patting his chest as he followed, . “take far. Great hunt across savage wilds of the stars. Like spores, I go where breeze goes. ” Hagark looked at the Togruta. “Breeze with you at moment. Where do you go? Where does Quest lead you?”
  8. NPC post separate from Hagark. Deep in the wilds, five Felucians stumbled forward. Unlike their brethren of the global tribe, these Felucians did not walk with caution nor with subtlety of a hunter or a gatherer. Instead, they marched forward, their hands grabbing at the mushrooms that grew around them, ripping off pieces of the cap to fill their rotting mouths. Several bent to the ground and scooped up handfuls of dirt into their maws, with worms and insects wriggling under their teeth. Behind each Felucian trailed strands of mycelia, which clutched at the pieces the hosts dropped. Behind the group, three Felucians followed. Elderly beings, each one having tendrils that drooped in dark energies intermixed with mycelia and growing spores. Each Elder seemed to walk differently from each other. The tallest of them, a giant compared to the others, made strides through the undergrowth, pushing aside foliage and debris like it was nothing. The smallest of the three crawled on all fours, sniffing the ground and running ahead randomly, only to run back and giggle madly. And the final one, with a large brewing pot around her neck, limped ahead slowly behind the rest, barely able to keep up. “Make your gait slower all…” the Shaman complained. “Lest your sister behind dost fall” The two stopped and looked at their companion. The Virago snorted. “Does your strength finally wane?” “Does your power grow weak?” The Pariah giggled. “Fall behind, leg muscles juices drain, like the meek? The one with the pot snarled. But contrary to their jokings, the two did slow. The shambling Felucians however, did not. Their mouths continued to drool even as they stuffed their mouths full of plant and dirt and worms. Ahead, a young Gelegrub larva broke through the foliage, intent as eating as much as the Felucian drones ate. Unlike the Felucians, it did not intend to eat meat, and so when it saw the planet’s natives, it did not charge nor flee. The Felucians, however, broke their shambles and descended on the beast in a frenzy, quickly tearing it apart with teeth and hands. “Stop! Stop!” The large Shaman cried, as it charged the group and shoved the devouring Felucians aside. The Grub shrieked as it was devoured, until the large shaman ripped its head off with a few tugs, spewing jelly like fat everywhere. “This treasure ours!” The large one continued taking the head to the others. The Pariah clapped his hands wildly as the Virago passed, stealing some jelly and licking its contents. “Yes, ours, ours! These juices our connection empowers” The shaman dropped her pot on the ground and gestured to it. “Drain its mind, and let me cast...” “Ah, but what spell to cast? A spell for strength, or a spell to fast?” The Virago asked. The Pariah giggled. “Strength would help, should some Jedi find” Virago nodded. “Indeed, and might help break their mighty minds” The Shaman shook her head. “Nay, not strength nor fortitude, nor enlightening rage, but rather, escape from this planet’s cage. Do you not forget our plight?” Virago growled at the Shaman wild holding the grub’s head over the pot. “You insult me, for i wish to fight” Pariah crawled closer to the pot, and reached into the pack at his side. Producing several handfuls of spores, he carefully tossed them in with the juices that drained from the grub. “No no, our sister right. Escape Felucia, escape our plight and turn our focus to future fights” Shaman nodded at her brothers. “Come, add water, fire, and grass. To commune and see it like tempered glass. “ The two obeyed and added the ingredients. While they threw in several mushroom caps, water, and pieces of cider from a previous fire, The Shaman held her hands on the side of the pot. Slowly, she began to chant, channeling the dark energies inside of her into the mixture. As she did, the large mushrooms growing from her back seemed to wriggle with newfound energy. The Shaman began to communicate with the Great Spore . “Darkness, darkness, clear away Let us see more of today. With these juices of prey devoured Show us our predicting hour Help us flee and make new blight Across stars, across night. How shall we flee this dangerous place Where shall we go, whom shall we face?” The mixture bubbled violently with the dark energies coursing into the mixture, the rest of the shambling Felucians broke from their meal and stumbled to the three. With the Shaman’s chanting, they began to encircle and sway with the words. The mixture suddenly exploded upwards, smoke billowing into the air. However, the Shaman did not react, but instead released her hands from the pot. Now, she plunged her hands into the pot the scalding mixture burning her hands. Shaman raised her head and sang several piercing pitches. As Shaman completed her spell, the drones opened their mouths and began to speak. “Nooooorrrrtthh” Virago nodded. Pariah giggled. “North we go, but how far?” Pariah asked. “Do we march until there are stars?” Shaman and the drones ended their long singing and moans and took a breath. With their next notes from Shaman, the Great Spore answered again. “Veeeeessshhh” At this, Pariah and Virago looked surprised. “Vesh? What is Vesh? Is Vesh a building, a place? “Or is Vesh something that bears a face?” Barely able to hold onto the spell much longer, Shaman took one more breath to get one more answer. “Fiiiind heeerrrrrr” The drones answered. With that, Shaman drew her hands from the scalding mixture. The mixture instantly evaporated into the air, leaving behind nothing but a greasy coat over the pot’s insides. Shaman took several deep breaths before looking her hands over. The burned skin had completely split open revealing muscles, bones, and mycelia trying to knit itself back together Still, her hunger triumphed and she quickly grabbed the remaining pieces of the Grub’s head and devoured it hungrily. With each gulp, it seemed her hands healed a little faster. “Come sister, I'll carry you far!” Virago stated, scoping the hobbled being into his arms. Shaman didn’t even react, but continued eating. “Yes, North, for Vesh is our guiding star! Let us go, brother and sister, and find this Vesh!” As if sensing Pariahs words, the drones turned and began to shamble northward. “And maybe we will find some delicious flesh!” Pariah laughed. The three turned and followed the shambling Felucians.
  9. Hagark

    Space

    Hagark growled at the person who demanded he drop his loot. He had challenged, fought and defeated these enemies, along with the Togruta. By rights, their treasure was his. However, his eyes fell to the person’s weapon, and then towards Vekra’s ease of tension. He doubted he would have her support against this foe. In the Jungles of Felucia, when a Rancor came barreling through the mushrooms, one sometimes had to abandon treasure for the loot known as ‘life’. Hagark licked his lips and, against his better judgment, slowly placed the arm on the ground. “My loot, yours…” Hagark commented slowly, still staying on all fours. “My sword, still mine. Need for Noble Quest.” Hagark looked at Vekra. His face tendrils swirled around slightly in thought. He nodded to her, indicating he would follow her for now. “You lead,” Hagark commented. The reasoning was simple enough. In the wilds of civilization, he would prove more than handicapped. Perhaps with the hollow horn, he could navigate the strangeness of civilization with more success than alone.
  10. Hagark

    Space

    Hagark growled at the approaching knight Still on all fours, he backed off slightly, keeping close to the Togruta. “Hagark…” the Felucian said after Vekra introduced herself. Whether it was to him or the stranger, he wasn’t sure, but he figured it would be best to follow suit. Hagark eyed the woman’s weapons and the distance between himself and her. He wondered if the female would take away his prized arm he had acquired from the pirates. Such a thing was his to own and use as he wanted, but the laws of these offworlders didn’t seem to always gel with his. And where Vekra had proved herself to be helpful, this one was an unknown. “Bodies ours…” Hagark stated, gesturing back towards the other bodies. “Choice prizes. Loot look good.”
  11. Hagark

    Space

    Hagark heard several of the bodies fall to the floor, as well as the rest turning and fleeing. At this sound, he dropped the dead corpse shield and looked at the enemies fleeing. The Noble hunter was already giving chase. >Good hunter…< Hagark commented in his native tongue. >Like Warrior with Rancor. She is good for my noble quest.< Hagark looked at the bodies before him. His stomach growled loudly as this whispers in his head become stronger. His mouth began to drool, and his tendrils glowed a slightly redder hue . >Such a feast should not be wasted< Hagark raised his mask slightly for his mouth and without restraint, bit into the exposed flesh that hadn’t been burnt by blaster fire. The neck bled slowly, coating the dry skin like a fine sauce. For a moment, Hagark felt bliss as the metallic porcine taste coated his mouth. Even his tendrils seemed to stoop to touch the blood his mouth tasted. Following this he pulled his blade and dislodged the pirates arm from the body. While he was not a hunter, he understood how to carve limbs from animals, and these pirates were not much different. >Future rations…< Hagark commented, looking over the bleeding limb. An explosion rocked the hallway. Hagark leapt from the body and donned his mask once more. As much time as he spent away from home, he was not used to the explosions of fire everyone seemed to carry with them. Once the explosion was done, Hagark followed on all fours in its direction until he found the Togruta once again. “You, good hunt…” Hagark commented, now in broken common. He stood and held the arm like the prize he believed it to be. “Be many choice prizes. Think more prey exist?”
  12. Hagark

    Space

    Hagark grinned under his mask after his shield clonked the pirate and the Togruta finished him off. Such a kill was good to witness. The facts of her striking at him as well as her slaying of the pirates led him to believe this was the cause of the whistle that summoned him. The whispers inside him grew louder in her presence, as if they were trying to say something about her. But the whispers were too numerous and unclear to be understood. “Yes, us… noble hunting…” Hagark agreed with the idea the Togruta gave. “A delicious feast awaits.” At the sound of the whistle, Hagark got back onto all fours and followed, only stopping to grab his shield once more. The next hallway revealed another group of pirates. Hagark reasoned that these six must have been alerted to the duo’s presence, for their weapons were drawn and readied. He scowled slightly at the thought of having to face the group, but remembered how the Togruta nearly struck him with her blades. “Noble hunter…” Hagark growled softly in common for the Togruta to hear. “You hear beasts? They come fattened, teeth bared. Perhaps…I challenge beasts, Togruta, and once distracted, you gutt?” Hagark broke into a galloping rush, his hands and feet beating on the floor. Instead of being stealthy like usual, he gave a loud roar. >Face me! Face me and despair!< Hagark issued his challenge in his native tongue. To the common person, it sounded nothing more than grunts, growls and clicks, but to Hagark, it was the noble roar of a questing Felucian. Hagark got off all fours and wrapped his arms around the first pirate, barely losing any momentum, he lifted the pirate up and continued running past the others. The pirate he had picked up dropped his gun in surprise and was trying to beat the thing down to no avail. Finally, the two crashed into a wall. Hagark wasted no time in spinning around, still holding the pirate. Several shots rang out, filling the hall with a red glow. The body in Hagark's arms went limp. Hagark grinned again and held the body forward like a shield. The pirates, now focused on him, fired again and again, hoping one shot may hit the Felucian.
  13. Hagark

    Space

    Hagark heard the bodies hit the floor first before he saw anything. He knew the sound well. When beings died on Felucia, their thuds were much softer thanks to the mud, but they still made noise. Hagark had seen enough to die on that world to know the sound of a body. However, Hagark did not hear the sound of the blade flying until it hit his sword. Startled by the clang of metal, Hagark jumped back slightly as he raised his wooden shield defensively in a now crouched position. He gave out a large growl, hoping to intimidate whatever had attacked him as his hand hovered over his sword’s handle. In the darkness, it was hard to see his foe. He could manage to see a slight silhouette thanks to an emergency light in the hallway, but that was all. The thing had horns and was humanoid, and about his size. Hagark’s memory flashed to some of the stories the great tribe told of such beings. Zabracks had many short horns, Devorians had two solid horns, and Togruta had hollow horns. Behind his mask, Hagark squinted at the being, trying to figure out which this one was. “You… noble devil?” Hagark grunted with broken common, hand still hovering over his sword. “Or you... a listening Manta Ripper?” In the dim light of the emergency lights, Hagark no doubt looked like something out of some mythical or exotic tale. The numerous long tendrils from his head each had tiny spots of luminous light, giving his mask a distinct blue coloring. Only his eyes and mouth behind the mask were completely abyssal black. While wondering whether or not to strike down this stranger before she replied, Hagark suddenly perked up at something behind the stranger. “Duck” was the only word he growled before he flung his shield at what seemed directly at the being. If she managed to dodge out of the way of the thrown wooden shield, it would connect with the pirate that had managed to sneak up on the group.
  14. Hagark

    Space

    Hagark stirred from his slumber inside the cramped quarters of the ship’s storage bay. The figure was twisted over atop a large crate marked ‘Sorosuub’ in a futile attempt at a decent sleep in the ship. Hagark, large for his species, was unable to get into a perfect position that he would’ve liked. Even when he drifted off to sleep, the dreams always followed. And the whispering always continued. The endless whispering in his dreams continued to follow him into the waking world. The whispering occurred during the hunts, and during the kills. The whispering even occurred when he focused on the things called ‘datapads’ and ‘labels’ trying to decipher the Common text before him. The whispering was always there. And here, in the ship that traveled the great skies, far far from home, the whispering followed. Hagark woke fully at the sound of blasters. While the technology behind the weapons was foreign to him, the deathly fire they spewed from their nozzles was not. But his attuned ears picked up other noises. Screams. Something bad was happening out there. Hagark’s stomach growled. The native Felucian clutched his belly as the hunger pangs began. He had already eaten all the food in the storage area. He needed more. He needed something more filling and sustaining. He needed meat. And during chaos, meat was easier to acquire. Hagark quickly donned his mask and wooden shield. Sword at his side, Hagark pressed at the door. The scene that welcomed the Native Felucian was a pleasant one. Lights flickering down long hallways from flashlights, people running to their rooms panicking as large men opened fire and dragged people by their hair. Large nets holding children were being dragged being several of the new foes. Hagark smiled under his wooden mask. Such chaos was perfect for hunting. Such chaos was perfect for the former Mushroom Farmer. Hagark charged out and roared, rushing the nearest group of pirates. Sword drawn, Hagark cut down the pirate holding two younglings in nets. The other pirates turned on the new foe. They had expected resistance, but none of them were expecting a Felucian wielding a primitive sword shield. One of the pirates turned and ran, radioing for help. Hagark was surprised. The runner was bigger than him: an Abyssin. He had not signed up for this kind of fight. Kidnapping younglings and shooting civilians was one thing. Fighting a gangly, armed primitive in the dark was another. Hagark salivated as the thing ran, but stopped. A new noise pierced the air. A whistle. High pitched and alluring. Hagark wondered who in their right mind would whistle during a hunt. Weren’t such things cause to lure danger? Who would do this? Thankfully, the whistle seemed to come from the same direction the Abyssan had ran. On all fours, Hagark began to follow the halls towards where the whistle had come from. Questions rattled his mind. Was this prey or predator that lured him? Should he go back to the previous kills and make sure they weren’t the cause? Shouldn’t he first satiate his hunger? But the whisperings egged him forward. The whistle was too luring to be resisted. He would find its source, and figure out what to do with it.
  15. Real Name: Hagark A.K.A: x Homeworld: Felucia Species: Jungle Felucian Physical Description Age: 24 Height: 6’10 Weight: 188 lbs Hair: Red Eyes: Red Sex: Male Equipment Clothing or Armor: Primitive Rags, Mask, Weapon: Felucian Bonesword, Wooden Shield Common Inventory: Bone Necklaces, Red/Yellow dyed Cape Faction Information Force User, Force Sensitive or Non-Force User: Force Sensitive Archetype: Warrior (Virago) Alignment: Chaotic Evil Current Faction Affiliation: Sith Current Faction Rank: Hopeful History Force Side: Dark Trained by: Felucian Shamans, Cult of the Spore Trained who: None Known Skills: Hunting, Wrestling, rudimentary sword combat, stealth Force Powers: Force Sense, Background: Once, Hagark was a mushroom farmer. In the Felucian Caste system, he was pretty low but also comfortable. He had a peaceful life amongst the forests of Felucia. He would occasionally meet and trade with outsiders of his worldly tribe, bartering his goods for whatever the shamans needed. He never dreamed big. He didn’t dream of quests and hunts. He never wandered far from his birth spot where his mother was buried. He simply listened to the peace of the Force and led a decent, happy life. However, when the Sith attacked Felucia, and his mushroom farm burned to the ground, he was lost for a while. He didn’t want to return to the farm yet. He needed something else. After the attack, something awakened in him. In the days he spent waiting, he discovered it was Rage. Rage at the Sith for attacking his home and burning his farm and hurting his tribe. Rage that he didn’t do anything to stop the Sith, that he didn’t pick up his weapons to fight alongside Jedi and Warriors. And greatest of all, he felt Rage at himself for being curious at the kind of power the Sith wielded. Rumors began to feed into the global tribe. A group of outcasts had found something. Exiles had begun to make a place for themselves and were fighting the great tribe. Something wicked had snuck into the heart of Felucia, and risked destruction of all. Something vile, greedy and hungry was growing. At first, Hagark didn’t care about the rumors. His place was a farmer of the great tribe. He would tend to his burnt lands and fix what was destroyed. He wasn’t going to quest after some mythical ‘sub-tribe’ no matter how much rage and curiosity he felt. However, a choice was made for Hagark. During the night, he and a group of other Felucians were kidnapped and taken to the Shamans of the Great Spore. It was there he inhaled the spores and made contact with the Great Spore. And it was there his eyes were opened. Rage, now fed and nurtured by the Great Spore, flourished wildly. No longer a farmer, Hagark fought for the Great Spore, killing his once relatives in combat. He didn’t care for the sword at first. He preferred the snapping of necks, the breaking of bones, and the taste of flesh. The other Shamans of the Great Spore saw the raw power building up in Hagark and communed with the Great Spore. In its wisdom, it made a demand. Hagark packed up and left the cult, seeking a ship off world. He was excited for his first quest. He would find the Sith who harmed his world. He would fight them. He would regift rage with rage. And he would make them come back for his new tribe. They wanted to leave. That was the will of the Great Spore. And he was both its messenger and its monster.
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