Nar Shaddaa

[Saerin]

"I will." Saerin realized she'd probably lied and let Jhoren go, dashing off in the direction of the open airways. The massive explosion had taken out vehicles, lit buildings on fire, burst windows and twisted metal structures. Not to mention the...

 

People...

 

She didn't waste time brushing back her locks of blond hair now disheaveled and half pulled out of her long braid, but settled for pulling the whole braid out as she took to the road. Rampant destruction cluttered the roads with fire and hastily arriving firetrucks to try and quench the... the...

 

Her Rodian was probably dead or severely injured. There were probably no taxis left in the area. It'd only taken a few minutes to walk, so instead she ran, and even that took more time than she wanted. The spaceport had been in the range of the blast. Windows were broken and already cautionary warning signs were being put up around the area. She chose to pay them no heed. Someone shouted at her, something about the ships being fine.

 

They were. Saerin sank in a moment's relief, heading back to their ships.

[Kirana Sunrider]

The only notice she had that the pistol would explode was a sense of danger through the Force. She threw the pistol before it exploded, snatching up the hilt of her second blade, igniting it as well in a smooth movement.

 

More defensive instinct than deliberate move, Kira swung her blade upwards, more or less tracking Faust as he got thrown back from the kinetic feedback, slicing through his arm while he hung mid-air in the moments before he landed. Out of the corner of her eye she could see the arm still holding the sword hilt clatter to the floor. Her other blade came around in a defensive position, seeing his other blade pointed directly at her.

 

Kira was aware when Jhoren re-entered the bar though didn't expect to be pushed away out of Faust's range by him and into the wall across the other side of then room. It was unexpected though being removed from point blank range of her enemy gave her a breather, time to think her next move through. Both her blades were still ignited though she held them at such an angle that they wouldn't cause self-harm. Gathering the Force, she used it to assist her to her feet, the armor being slightly awkward to get upright with any speed other wise.

 

She watched Jhoren as he confronted Faust, pushing him to the opposite side of the cantina from where she was and brought the ceiling down on him. Dust, rubble, debris, it all came down on Faust. She disengaged her sabers as Jhoren did, still aware that anything could be possible with that particular enemy so still held them ready. ”œI'm fine. It's okay Jhoren though I think we better make ourselves scarce." Still alert for possible dangers, she headed towards what remained of the doorway, stepping around the varying obstacles still in the way.

[Vladimir Faust]

Mere moments after Kirana and Jhoren left the ruins of the cantina, a wide, all encompassing thermonuclear blast takes off the very end of a stray lock of silver hair blown back by a foul smelling wind. The term close is an understatement, as the duo came within centimeters of being vaporized.

 

The question of course, is how?

 

It goes without saying that losing his hand hurt, and hurt a lot. Far from the worst pain Faust experienced, it hurt physically, and it hurt his towering pride even more. A scream of unbridled rage echoed as the witch's lightsaber took his unguarded, natural hand off, followed by shock as her filthy knight-padawan caught him off guard and slammed him into a wall.

 

With seconds to act before the roof and wall fell atop him, Faust acted by first dropping his saber and summoning his sword back to him by pointing with his stump, his real hand still morbidly clutching the hilt, then drawing a disruptor pistol and blasting a hole in the floor at the last second.

 

The end result had Faust crash through what use to be floor and pipes, disintigrated by the energy blast. Landing roughly on his hand and legs in a dingy, slimey sewer, he gathers his saber and sword, sheathing that latter again, with the hand still attached. Beyond pissed, he activates a thermal from his belt and tosses it, running like hell.

 

So, when the explosion clears, new rubble falls atop the sewer opening, burying Faust's passage, and the Jedi narrowly evade his trap.

 

And what of Faust?

 

Still angry beyond reckoning, this injury made it personal. Being bested martially made his rage burn, causing a chill blue fire to light his eyes. They would pay! He would murder them all, then hunt down their relatives, clone the bastards, then murder them again... for starters.

 

First, he needed to assess his injuries, hurrying away briskly. The wound at least cauterized itself, and he knew enough chop surgeons who would reattach it.

 

At about this time the remotes reached the second jammer and destroyed it, giving him access to his ship. He contemplated nuking the area in a salvo of fire, but he wanted these deaths to be personal. He wanted to see them die, slowly. Too quick, too impersonal. Emerging from the sewers, the black shadow passes overhead- Faust leaping with the Force to board it, the cockpit snapping open to greet him.

 

He merely deposits his ruined hand and dons his trenchcoat with its cache of weapons, turning around towards the spaceport.

 

Afterall, that whelp said they were there to refuel? He would wait for them, after leading them on a merry chase.

 

Leaping out of his ship which speed off to act as a decoy and trick the Jedi, having it spew laser fire down in its wake, cueing the ship to project taunts in his usual voice to give the impression he was piloting the beast. Faust observes the flames spreading from his vantage with glee. He lands gracefully atop the spaceport, his eyes widening in malicious recognition at a figure heading towards one of the starports.

 

The padawan! Jhoren's little *****!

 

He doesn't draw his lightsaber. Too clean. He wanted this to be messy and to leave no mistake about what happened. A pity there wasn't a refrigerator handy to stuff the body into as well. Instead he draws a custom flechette launcher he can use one handed and leaps down, emerging standing in front of Saerin, a good five feet from her, his one good hand leveling the flechette at her, the cauterized stump of the other pointed as well, crackling with energy.

 

"I don't know your name, luv, but I know you came in the company of the Jedi," he announces cheerfully. "A pity your master let you go out on your own. You're going to die here. I want your anguish to be the last thing he feels." Still smiling, almost warmly, Faust squeezes the trigger, unleashing a cartridge of flechettes at Saerin.

[Saerin]

She was mere metres away from her ship. Saerin would have sworn, in retrospect, that at that moment she thought she was home free. She'd let her guard down and slowed her step just a hair to catch her breath and board the Argent Star.

 

With the tiniest, most graceful of sounds a figure landed before her. She shied back a half step, staring in awe. But this was no angel floating down from the sky to save them. He was clad in white, and by his hair and eyes he could have been her male counterpart. His hair was blond, he was muscular and well toned, even his age. But there was a difference: his eyes were ice and he rippled with darkness. She was plain and he was awe-inspiring and majestic and ice. She was justice and he was destruction. Everything he stood for was everything she loathed!

 

His trenchcoat was bulky and for a mere second she wondered how he could even move around with that many weapons...

 

That was not her concern. Saerin's concern was the weapon in his one remaining hand. The others weren't leveled at her.

 

She draws her sword. It wasn't a lightsaber, it wasn't cortosis ore, it wasn't Sith steel, it was just a blastsword. Inwardly she thanks the Force and any other deities that might exist that he was a talker first and a shooter second. He expected her to shy back in fear. It gives her fifteen seconds. Fifteen seconds in which she did not think anger that being in the company of a Jedi she'd known for less than a day meant she was about to die again, fifteen seconds in which she did not think that he didn't even know her and would not feel her anguish because there was no bond there, fifteen seconds in which she did not think—

 

—BUT I'M NOT HIS PADA—

 

Her thoughts cut off and survival instinct kicks in. A buzz to replace the protests and stifle the hatred, fear, awe and desire shows up. A buzz to replace the cheerful tone of his voice—oh, so very much like hers! and the mockingly warm smile on his face that was identical to the way she—

 

"You're going to die here."

 

—He is stronger than her. Faster than her. Larger than her. More armed than her...

 

The buzz makes everything feel so slow. It's a flechette launcher. It will hit. It will spray out, up and to the sides. That means that there's going to be a foot or two beneath it that it won't hit because it's not going to hit him, just everything in a radius of about five metres, but not directly underneath it...

 

"I want..."

 

—Well, no, that isn't true, she has two of them left—

 

"...your anguish..."

 

THREE SECONDS, the buzz screams. On the last quarter second she dives for his feet. It hits where she now isn't. There's that tiny, tiny margin where she's at the former Dark Lord's feet, and an explosion of flechettes overhead, and she underestimates its range--one cutting through her left ear, one through the right, one through part of her left shoulder, and that one does the most damage because she feels muscle tear and smells blood but it misses the bone and of course it wouldn't hurt him because he's wearing armor everywhere, she's just wearing cloth, and cloth doesn't hold up against durasteel piercing flechettes...

 

But the blastsword is in her right hand. It's not the injured arm. It comes up even as metal shards are still sailing through the air. Some have sliced through the fuel lines still connected to the Star, mangled droids still refilling the ship, one has taken out a light. The fuel lines separate the Star and Paladin. She hits his launcher with the tip of her sword. It's made to release a blast when the tip hits something--and the blast hits the weapon. The cell powering it explodes in his uninjured hand... and possibly the other cartridges. She doesn't know. She hasn't looked, because by this time she's behind him, ducking under the shredded fuel lines. A tap from her sword, just a small spark, sets them ablaze, and the fuel shooting out rapidly in all directions becomes a wall of inferno that separates the dark from the light.

 

She flees towards her own ship, just a platform away, also still being refueled. But that's still a platform she has to get to.

[Vladimir Faust]

Faust squeezes the trigger, watching the lethal rounds pour out. In his mind's eye of the Force he can watch everything thrice- once as it happens, once as he senses it, and once in the future tense. The blood, the death, the anguish!

 

It would glorious!

 

Only that reality failed to bend to his will. Gritting his teeth in a snarl, he half contemplated if he should have shot first, immediately realizing it was not enough. He wanted anguish, physical, mental, and spiritual visited on his enemies. His pride would allow for nothing less than their utter ruin. As she moves forward, he makes the motions to step back, increase distance. Distance in a melee fight, something as simple as footwork, can make the difference.

 

Only he failed to stand profile and allow himself a the time for a retreat. Too caught up in what should be, he let his gun be destroyed by the blast sword. He feels it reverberate in his hand, and shields his face with his ruined right arm, hurling the gun aside as discs fly out. His armor protected the cybernetics in his hand, so no loss. Of course, it gave that worm time to escape and use her pyrotechnics to create a diversion.

 

The scent of blood and fire followed. He smelt it. Above all, the beast inside hungered for blood. He smelt hers from where her shots connected, and.... his blood as well.... dripping from under his right eye by a stray disc. He instictively licks up the blood, savoring the flavor, his nose enjoying the smokey odor of destruction. The second time today he bled his own blood?

 

"Oh, you're going to pay for that," he hisses, watching her flee. He breaks in a low, cackling laugh and with determined strides, he chases after her- not running, but power walking with surety, raising his hollow right arm after her. "You want to play with fire?" he screams, walking up to the fire wall. "Oh, I'll show you fire!" Grinning, laughing, he spots her through the flames, bending his hatred on her. At that instant, an unseen and powerful force grips the fleeing wench- as if clasping her roughly around the torso and pulling her back to the fire, lifting her just off the ground.

 

Slowly, he reels her in, roughly dragging her toward the wall of fire she made, intent on roasting her alive like a pig stuck on an invisible spit.

 

"The flames are beautiful, no?" he almost giggles, enjoying the prospect. "According to some myths, it was the gods' gift to men. In others, it symbolizes eternal torture," he states, slowly pulling her closer, instinctively measuring words that would hurt. "Fire is will made manifest! To burn, to cleanse, to cull. It is the ultimate act of power, one that sustains itself prepetually, consuming everything it can, and yet, it is a natural force, a force of nature's laws and of man's nature. Contemplate this as your creation, your fire, consumes you!"

[Jhoren Zeur]

By now, Nar Shaddaa's streets were flooding with commotion. There was an uproarious rumble as hundreds, if not thousands of people poured out of buildings and alleyways. For blocks on end, every citizen of this inglorious city were pushing and shoving their way through the thick of the crowd. Utter chaos would have been an understatement. Words did not describe the terror he saw in their eyes. They knew Faust was a killer. A psychopath. He deserved nothing but to be put to rest, and cast into the eternal embers of Hell. That was a service that Jhoren knew he couldn't do himself. He couldn't allow himself to lose control. As hard as it was not to unleash every ounce of his power on that animal, he had to remember control.

 

There is no emotion; there is peace.

 

Peace? He would not be showing Faust ”˜peace'. He would be showing him the emerald edge of his lightsaber, which he intended to drive through the man's skull when he was given that opportunity. To hell with letting him live; he was too dangerous to keep alive! Jhoren saw that now. Saw the destruction and death he'd inflicted upon all of those Nar Shaddaaians so far.

 

He easily avoided the blasts coming from Faust's ship. The Sith was still up there, but there was nothing Jhoren could do to stop it. He had to get to Saerin. To make sure she was all right.

 

There is no ignorance; there is knowledge.

 

He shoved his way through the crowd, careful to avoid the men, women and children who stood in his way. Their shouts of anger and fear followed him.

 

There is no passion; there is serenity.

 

Minutes later, he arrived at the spaceport. To his horror, there stood Saerin, taking a couple of sharp projectiles to her person. Projectiles from Faust's weapon.

 

'You bastard!'

 

His own mental blast at the former Dark Lord rang like a speaker throughout an empty mess hall. He was intent on turning his attention away from Saerin. Time was off the essence now; Faust's ship could still be in range. He was sure of it. He could almost feel it growing closer.

 

Faust had Saerin in a telekinetic hold. He was dragging her closer to a wall of fuel-induced flames, and at any moment, she watch catch fire and burn. He'd be damned if he gave Faust that pleasure.

 

A stack of metal crates were pushed against one wall. Jhoren had perhaps seconds before Saerin became engulfed in the fire. He made a split second decision. Grabbing one of the top-most crates, he hurled it at Faust, intent on both injuring him and throwing his focus off Saerin. If it worked, and his mental hold on her vanished, he would do everything in his power to ensure her entry onto his ship.

 

His R2 unit - the one that had come with his ship - was already two steps ahead of everybody else. It fired up the Star, and the second it lifted off the ground, it brought the flaming fuel lines with it. Using a tendril of his power, Jhoren closed shut the fuel cap. Doing so snapped the fuel lines. Now, with no fuel source for the flames to thrive on, they were extinguished seconds before the lines hit the ground.

 

The ship stayed low enough for Saerin to climb aboard. Lightsaber still ignited, Jhoren flung another crate at Faust. They were heavy, but he was able to pick them up and throw them with little effort.

 

'Get onto the Star,' he relayed to her. 'Hurry!'

 

There is no death; there is the Force.

 

There is no death.

 

He gritted his teeth.

 

There is no death.

 

'Hurry, Kira.'

 

He distanced himself from Faust. He'd seen what he was capable of. The bloodshed had to stop.

 

This had to end, and soon...

[Kirana Sunrider]

Kirana followed behind Jhoren, taking time to send messages through to a contact and to check up on the response to her droids SOS. She had shut down her sabers as she hurried through the crowds, clipping one of her sabers to her belt-clip as she went along. As she reached the docking platforms, she noticed that Faust had Saerin in his telekinetic grasp. She somehow knew that Malice would still be alive... he'd escaped from them before, through the floor so she gathered that's what he'd done again here. As Jhoren threw the crate towards Faust, Kira let her free hand close around another pistol-grip. Her other hand still held her saber, ready to ignite at a moments notice.

 

To further distract Faust, Kira gathered the force and leaped upwards, landing on the top of one of the other ships in the docking area. She took aim towards Faust and fired a number of stunbolts towards him, her voice loud and clear over the commotion that he had caused, "Picking on mere children Faust. You should be ashamed of yourself."

[Vladimir Faust]

Faust was not unaware of Jhoren and Kirana's approach, having more senses than five, as well as the ability to detect snipers and other sneaks- tactics Faust himself favored. The mental blast, calling him a bastard, pure flattery, only made him more focused on proving his point.

 

Your friends girl, are ruthless in trying to stop me. They are fires like me!

 

Drawing Saerin in, letting her contemplate what he spoke of on the nature of fire, destruction, and man, he acts. Standing at the edge of the flames himself, he reaches out at the last second with his left arm, extending it. Pain sensors in it lets him know what he should be feeling by reaching through the fire, and his armor takes on an almost pink tinge- grabbing Saerin by the neck with his guantlet covered hand and whipping her around quickly though the flames unhurt. Despite the pain, he smiles in glorious anticipation.

 

Rather than hoist her or throw her into the fire, he pivots at the last second, and with a grin soley for Jhoren's benefit, lets the girl take the brunt of his attack- in this case, thrown metal crates, callously holding her out as a human shield and making sure they hit her both squarely with a sickening crunch, then steps aside to let her absorb the shock of Kirana's stunbolts.

 

Dodging, defending, or other means could have easily availed him to avoid those attacks, but he chose this method simply for its perverse nature. Still using the girl as a shield, he calls out loudly.

 

"Children are easy to break, Kirana! Yet the shame of injuring her is not mine... Jhoren!"

[Jhoren Zeur]

The second crate, already airborne, tumbled to the ground. The first one was a barren attempt at throwing Faust's focus off, but seeing as how he now had Saerin in his actual grasp, another ranged assault would be too dangerous. The bastard was using her as a human shield! She had taken the blow of the first crate, which, luckily, wasn't any bigger than it was. He cursed himself for making such a bold move and stepped forward, quickly forgetting that his master was right behind him.

 

To Hell with the Jedi Code.

 

”œLet her go, Faust!”

[Vladimir Faust]

"Cowardice?" Faust mocks, altering his voice mechanically so Saerin's voice, cruel and plantative, fills the air. "You should know, Jedi-boy, that there are no innocents ever." He backs up slowly, holding her tightly by the neck, eyes searching around, flashing a grin at Kirana on her perch. "Until the galaxy realizes that," he states, using his normal voice, "I feel free to do as I please." Faust's eyes dart, catching a ship as it lowered to the ground, doing a double take with the realization it was aiming at him.

 

"As it is, I find it much more useful to keep the girl alive... for now." A rather benign, even sickeningly smug smile flashes on his face. His hands clench and tiny molecule thin slivers of corusca gems slide out from under his artifical fingernails through slots in the glove- sharp and hard as anything in the galaxy, letting a visible trickle of blood flow from the girl's neck as a warning and to tighten his hold on her- in the next second they could extend fully, or cut her worse if she was ripped away with the Force. "You're a hypocrit, as are most of the Jedi. Using your ship in a lightsaber fight? Sniping from a distant locale? And you accuse me of fighting unfairly?" He laughs. "Don't play the fool, boy. When it comes down to it, you're either alive or dead, and nothing else matters. At least have the guts to acknowledge that."

 

Still backing up against a building wall about a story high, holding onto Saerin by the neck, he smirks, eyes and Force senses studying Kirana, Jhoren, and the ship. "Here's my proposal. Throw down your weapons, you and your master. Surrender, and I'll recall my ship, which is still leveling half the moon as we speak." In truth it was already making a return, locking its lasers on Kirana's rooftop perch, chaingun aimed at Jhoren, and ion cannons on the new ship, all ready for one massive burst- and if they took his life somehow, a missile salvo. "No more so-called-innocents murdered, the girl keeps her miserable life and you and your master... well, are you willing to sacrifice your lives to save others... or is your Jedi oath and code a hollow thing? Show me, or are you both determined to have my blood at the cost of this woman's life, and the life of everyone else on Nar Shaada?"

[Kirana Sunrider]

Seeing that it was no good using the stun weapon since Malice was using Searin for a body-shield, she holstered it, leaving one hand free for the moment. It seemed that he was going to play dirty. Well... there had to be another way around this, another way to free the girl and get her safely away.

 

Faust's talk about fighting fair would have made Kirana laugh as if he'd told a joke had things not been so dire. She'd had experience with him previously, and had researched the bounty hunter turned sith lord. His exploits were well documented all over the galaxy. There was no way Kira would let her guard down for a moment where he was concerned.

 

Unknown to Faust, others were secretly closing in on the location of the dock's, all armed and ready to carry out instruction on a signal. Faust wasn't the only one that had 'eyes in the skies'. The signal was for some to lock onto a certain target with missile launchers similarly armed like the one the droid had carried and others with their varying other ranged weapons of choice. It seemed a bit excessive against just one man.. and his ship... unless that one man was Vladmir Faust and that ship, the Bhelliom. That ship had to be taken out of the equation before too much more damage was done.

 

"No more so-called-innocents murdered, the girl keeps her miserable life and you and your master... well, are you willing to sacrifice your lives to save others... or is your Jedi oath and code a hollow thing? Show me, or are you both determined to have my blood at the cost of this woman's life, and the life of everyone else on Nar Shaada?"

 

"We all know that your words are meaningless lies, Faust... You are too well known. You would never keep your word - never just let her go, never leave off murdering other innocents - you never have before... I doubt you ever will. How many innocents have you killed since the last time you swore that exact thing to a Jedi that was asked to lay down their weapons and surrender to you..." was Kirana's response, hoping to goad him into releasing Searin unharmed. She knew from keeping a light touch on someone else that no such levelling had happened on the other side of the planet. She knew that her droid had hit his ship, had seen the smoke trail from the eyes of her contact as the ship passed by...

 

Hearing the signal she had been 'keeping an ear out for', she leaped down from her perch to a position that was not visible to a ship in the skies, using the Force to speed her away from the last visible location. Weapons trained on their target opening fire from their sniper vantage points on Faust's ship as it came into view. The others still held their fire, waiting for an opportunity. The comms were still jammed to prevent Faust from communicating with his ship. Kira had been using other means with all of her contacts. She now gave her signal with a light brush of the Force for them to fire on Faust's ship as soon as they had it in their sights. Touching Jhoren's mind she sent him a message, 'Don't give in to your anger... that's what he wants... he'll turn you to the darkside if you give him the opportunity... do not give in to your anger... that will not help her... keep yourself calm... To Searin she gave a reassuring mental touch and some advice, that they would do everything to free her from the madman's grasp. Use his own weapons against him if you can...

 

From Kirana's new vantage point she drew in the Force, the light energies swirling around her. She had a 'bodyguard' of sorts, one that would alert her to any danger coming her way. It was obvious to Jhoren what she was doing through their bond, hopefully she would present the opportunity for him to get the girl away while she kept Faust busy.

 

This time she meant business. This time she locked onto Faust's mind, grabbing hold with a tight mental grip, blinding and stunning him with the light side of the Force, demanding "Let the girl go unharmed" attempting to find a way deeper into his mind to force him to let Searin go without harming her further.

 

 

--

(ooc: getting a bit carried away aren't you R?)

[Vladimir Faust]

Faust laughs, speaking what he believes to be the truth. "I've told you before, Kirana, there are no innocents. People are born corrupt, die corrupt, and the beast is inside everyone. Suprisingly enough, I do keep my word every now and then, or I would not have made it as the best bounty hunter this galaxy ever knew!" Still brandishing Saerin like a shield, he laughs. "Now, either surrender at once or I wi-"

 

The sudden return of the static jamming rushes in like a buzzing sound in Faust's mind. Even as a low, angry growl buzzes up his throat and his arm moves to speak, he goes... blind? Screaming in rage, he tosses Saerin aside, throwing her violently towards Jhoren, eyes snapping shut as he tries to move. Aware of the jamming, he can hear his ship getting off one last burst of laser and chaingun fire at their respective targets before taking off evasively. More than anything, it associated the static now with the ion rockets and did not want to deal with those again.

 

For Faust himself, he jumps backwards with the Force, landing on the roof of the building behind him, sight still clouded, and the sickening taint of that Jedi's aura in her mind.

 

"You bastards will pay for this!" Rather than stopping to give a dramatic pose as he delivers his threat, he does it prudently on the run, and while tossing several tiny, almost invisible marble like sphere off the roof behind him in a wide spread, where the VICE- violitile incindiary capsule explosives- detonate with a loud roar around the starport and its fuel lines.

[Jhoren Zeur]

Jhoren's grip on his saber lessened. Kirana spoke to him through the Force, no doubt having sensed the spike in his anger and frustration. She was right; the angrier he became, the less of a chance Saerin had for survival. He forced himself to retain control. He opened himself to the Force again, concentrating hard to relinquish his feelings of anger and frustration. It was difficult; with Saerin still in Faust's clutches - quite literally, too -, getting her away from him and on board the Star seemed like a lost cause.

 

Suddenly, without forewarning, Faust threw her at him. He was ready for him this time. Reacting quickly, he stepped forward and attained a soft, placid hold around the young woman. Pulling her to him, he motioned for her to board his ship, which was once again up in the air with its ramp lowered. Keeping it low and steady, his R2 unit could be seen through the cockpit's view screen. The faintest hint of a smile flickered across his face, but it was gone as quickly as it'd appeared. This wasn't over yet.

 

He turned his attention back onto Faust, but to his surprise, he was no longer there. There he was, up on the roof of the building behind the starport. A large lump formed in the pit of his stomach. He had, without a doubt, another trick up his sleeve that he was about to throw into play.

 

Rather than waiting for Saerin to climb aboard the Star, Jhoren grabbed her by the wrist and made the small hop onto the ramp. He pulled her along with him before she could protest, and it wasn't until they scurried to the top when the lip of the ramp swooped past Kirana. He had a bad feeling about this, and going by his instinct, decided that it would be best to get the hell out of there.

 

”œGet on!”

[Kirana Sunrider]

(ooc: sorry for not posting sooner... RL caught up with me)

 

Kira felt Faust's fury, the malice that thick you could cut it with a knife. She emerged from her hidden location as the mind contact was cut with his retreat. Figuring treachery, she gave a signal through the Force for retreat to those she'd had closing in on Faust's position.

 

The Jedi Master emerged to see Jhoren take Saerin's wrist and get her aboard his ship, said ship soon closing on her on location. She allowed Jhoren to grab hold of her, letting the Force assist her as she too boarded the YT-2400. The explosions were ripping through the dock as they escaped the area.

 

Having relied heavily on the Force for that last mental attack and being connected to her contacts, Kirana closed her eyes, resting for a moment. She wasn't idle though, searching for any sign of pursuit from Faust. The jamming device would have to be manually switched off once she got to that location, either that or she'd have to mentally touch her contact again to get him to turn it off for her. Not sensing Faust anywhere close to them, Kirana opened her eyes and stood, making her way towards the cockpit.

 

"You did well out there Jhoren, though you really need to get control of your emotions. Faust could have used your anger against you... he very nearly did." Her voice was gentle. She stood there for a while looking out the viewscreen. "Where are you planning on heading now?"

[Jhoren Zeur]

((OOC: No problem. Hope you're doing well!))

 

”

[Vladimir Faust]

((A fun duel, but I'm thinking of calling it a day on this. Good fighting- and resourceful posting, all of you.))

 

Making a hasty retreat as the docks ignited behind himt, Faust's good sense told him to leave off and leave matters be. Arrogance, pride, and the desire for revenge however, overrode this.

 

Still trying to shake the lightsided taint from his mind, he stills himself, trying a method of shielding his Force presense to at least give himself come level of comfort. That nausiating calm and unnatural serenity associated with the so-called light almost made him want to empty his stomach right now.

 

With his ship inaccessable due to Kirana's jamming device and not wanting to incur the headache that would result from fighting through the jamming, Faust concluded he would need to escape the area and regroup. The Jedi were gone on the YT-2400 and persuit was not feasible at this point in time.

 

Quietly dissapearing into the back alleys of Nar Shaada, Faust considers his next move- to get his ship back where it was likely resting safely in some back alley or hangar/safe house, and to hunt down the Jedi and end them.

 

Hunting down the jamming source was not too hard and done in short order, and Faust made slow work of Kirana's accomplice- also making sure to leave a lovely message for her written in blood as warning. His anger cooled somewhat, Faust glanced down at the ruined stump of his right hand, realizing he waisted more than enough time on this. The Jedi would pay, but this was a diversion. Fun to a degree, but he had more important matters to tend to- also concerned that this opening would give the Rebels time to approach and descend.

 

Locating his ship at one of his safe houses in the lower levels, Faust's next trip is to a street doc- using a combination of credits, mind wipes, and coercion to get the hand reattached in a satisfactory manner, though it would be stiff for some time, requiring medicines for the nerves to slowly heal. Vain as ever, he has skin grafted over the scars caused by the lightsaber.

 

Walking back to his ship, trying to relish his small victories to chill his burning rage, Faust jumps in and departs with haste, pulling into hyperspace.

 

Someday, when he had the leisure, he would get his revenge.

[Kirana Sunrider]

"Easy Jhoren. Don't make going after him your only focus. That in itself will consume you. I know what he has done more so than you and yes, he has to be stopped..." As Kira spoke she felt the death of her contact. She winced, feeling the connection she had with the contact extinguish as he died in a painful manner. She also knew the moment the jamming device was destroyed as her comm chip reactivated. Kira received messages from others, one telling her that Faust's ship had left Nar Shaddaa space.

 

"He's left the planet Jhoren. You can drop me off towards the southern district. Faust found my contact with the second jammer. I'd like to see that his remains are interred properly." Her voice was sombre as she spoke. "From there I will go my own way and let you get on with training your new padawan"

[Jhoren Zeur]

”œYes, I know,”

[Kirana Sunrider]

"Well, she's seen both sides of what the Force can do now. Not a good introduction for her, being held by an insane Sith Master. I wish you two good luck, whatever the decision." Kira responded, then inclined her head as he arrived at the location.

 

"Yes, this will be fine. May the Force be with you Jhoren. You will always know how to contact me." She smiled at her former padawan, resting her hand upon his shoulder for a moment before she turned to leave. Reaching the embarksion ramp, she hit the controls to lower it, leaping off the end to land lightly on the roof of one of the lower buildings. She raised her hand in a salute of farewell before she jumped off the roof to land lightly beside the body of her deceased contact.

 

The Jedi Master shook her head at the message left in blood before she called for assistance to take the body to the morgue of the closest hospital. She accompanied them to the hospital, letting them know who the man was and who it was that killed him. The hospital was busy due to Faust's explosions so it wasn't a surprise that there was another of his victims there as well. She organised for his burial and then took her leave, quickly heading to where her ship had been docked at a hidden location.

 

The Lost Soul soon lifted off after all the preflight checks and left the planet to another destination.

[Saerin]

((I'm sorry for not posting... at ALL... I've been knocked over with a massive cold for the last week and a bit. I have health complications that mean when I get sick, it usually hits very hard, and writing is the first thing to go. I figured my character was probably half dead anyway so any posting would've been along the lines of 'attempts to hide behind metal crate while not dying.' Great scene, all of you and it was a pleasure to be involved.))

 

She was... on the floor in a ship.

 

She was dragged onto a ship.

 

She was in safety's hands.

 

She was thrown through the air. Used as a shield, lit on fire, her skin broken by evil's hands...

 

She was pain.

 

She was still pain. Signifigantly more black dotted the edges of her eyes and blood was dried on her neck and if there weren't five ribs broken where the metal crate had hit, then, well, there weren't five ribs broken but she wasn't planning on moving any further to test it out. She'd heard horror stories about broken ribs piercing lungs and somehow coherently through the fog and the liftoff--the liftoff really didn't feel all that great--she pieced together that it probably wouldn't be advantageous to move all that much except to hopefully stop her neck from bleeding. Getting slammed and thrown and used as a shield with broken ribs was...

 

...Not something she wanted to repeat, but at least she could think and see through the fog that controlled the rest of her body now.

 

I'm going to kriffing kill that Sith, she thought vaguely. Vague because even now she couldn't correl her thoughts. Repeatedly she'd been called his Padawan, young, and girl and right now she didn't feel very young at all, and certainly not much like a girl, and even less like a Padawan, because at least a Padawan would've been able to hold his own. Jedi (and contrarily Sith) had such an absurd advantage.

 

Right now, though, she really just wanted something for the second degree burns, the massive bruise covering her side and the broken ribs to be checked, a bandage or five for the blood on her neck and something cold to compress it with and about half a bottle of painkiller.

 

She settled for unconsciousness since it was much closer at hand.

[Jhoren Zeur]

Once the Star was set to autopilot, Jhoren rubbed the bridge of his nose. He was shaken. Hurt, too - the burns covering his hands stung. Biting his tongue, he averted a tendril of his power into his reddened palms, managing to null some of the pain. Saerin was in far worse shape; that much was obvious as he approached her form in the corridor. She lay there, and for a second, he was scared that she'd slipped into a comatose. However, a feather-light touch with his mind told him that she was merely unconscious.

 

'Hang in there, Saerin,' he thought to her, his presence as gentle as a caress. 'You'll be better soon.'

 

He scooped up her body in a graceful, gentle motion. Taking care as to not afflict her fractured ribs, he moved her from the corridor into the medical bay. There, he lay her down on the bed and set about removing her clothes. Out of consideration and respect for her, he didn't remove her underclothes.

 

With a jar of bacta patches at the ready, he applied one to each visible burn mark. Each patch was wet and cool to the touch, no doubt a wonderful sensation on her scorched skin. Once the last one was laid down, Jhoren brought the back of the medical cot up so that it put Saerin in a sitting position. He grabbed a roll of gauze bandages and cautiously wrapped them around her chest, making sure to avoid her more sensitive of injuries. One rib jutted out furthest from the rest, so he took his time with securing the last strip in place. The bruise would subside in a few days' time, and another bacta patch was all that was needed for the wound on the woman's neck.

 

Nearly two standard hours had passed since the Knight began this lengthy procedure. He was fairly well-equipped to handle just about any kind of injury, but nonetheless, he planned on keeping a close eye on his companion's status. He was no medic, nor was he a Healer. But, Jhoren knew standard first aid skills, and of course, the Force brought his attention to the more serious of Saerin's injuries. He decided against putting her tunic and dress back on - the less moving around she did for the next couple of hours, the better -, so he turned about-face and left the room in non-ceremonious silence.

 

= = =

 

The Argent Star reemerged in the all too-familiar starry void. Tapping a series of commands into his nav-computer, Jhoren settled back in the pilot's chair. Within seconds, they entered the spectacular destitute of hyperspace once again...

[Vihk]

A group of rather large cargo ships clustered on a seemingly abandoned landing pad on the outskirts of Nar Shadaa when an irritated flying creature approached shaking his fist in restrained hatred.

 

A grouchy and grizzly voice that echoed years of smoking pelted down the line until one of the Cargo ships' door opened.

 

"What do you think yo- yo- you..." Then as if death itself had claimed the pestilent creature, he shut his blubbering mouth before his tongue was disintegrated. Out of the Ships came a very large mass of unarmored Mandalorian troopers that were now draped in what appeared to be a darker set of clothing. Only a few Mandalorians were still wearing some of their beskar'gam, because any hint that they were Mandalorian would give their position away.

 

Vihk, the man that moved easily through the crowd approached the flying grease-ball and shoved his throat to the durasteel docking platform.

 

"We were never here... got it?" said Vihk through quiet tight lipped conversation. The Mandalorians eyes pierced the Toydarian's body and pushed the ugly things inhibitions aside to give in to the aggressive man's wishes.

 

"Y-ye-ess" said the flying bulb as he grasped for breath and struggled to sound out the words.

 

"Good" finished Vihk with a smile as he let the creature go, "then we'll have no problems".

 

As the distance between the group of Mandalorians and their ships increased, Vihk pulled out a small device and said goodbye to their transports. All that lay bear aside the ships were large damaged crates only slightly revealing the metal on the inside.

 

After the pestilence was depressed and their path off planet was closed for now, the Mandalorians made their way in relative secrecy down the ramp and into the city. Meanwhile, Toydarian gasps echoed off of the ragged walls heading down and finally stopping indefinitely under the weight of terminal velocity. Now, the only problem that drew to Vihk's mind, became readily apparent as the rest of the Mandalorian mass finished moving and gather at the bottleneck passage entering the city. Mandalore sighed, looking into the depths of scum that filtered about the streets and wondered how 5,000 Mandalorians were supposed to gather and move simultaneously. We're just too large to just mosh the populace and to slaughter indiscriminately would not be smart... but, Ah!

Vihk told his officers to follow by example and for the others to follow their lead. "We'll meet at a set of coordinates when I find a suitable place" whispered Vihk lightly as he took his comm out and asked the others to do the same when the time was right. Then, as if Vihk was just another pedestrian, he curled up in his black blanket with his arms crossed and grumbled every now and then as he walked slowly through Nar Shadaa. Mandalore's shoulders were almost sandwiched between two larger Pig like individuals, but he lived through the nasal fugue and watched through peripheral vision as other Mandalorians did the same.

 

There were no children in his group, because they went with the 10,000 Mandalorians that were ordered to disappear, so Vihk figured his troops' ability to blend would be simple and insure there were little to no casualties. Regardless of his assurance though, Vihk's heart skipped slightly as he fathomed the task ahead. His eyes pushed through the wide rows of crowd and there were easily hundreds of structures that might have satisfied their needs. Alright bud... Take it slow... Vihk half thought to himself as he systematically began to check any structure he could without drawing unneeded attention.

 

Building by building, corner by corner... Steel... steel.... and more steel...

By the fifth hour of walking Vihk, his face covered in sweat and the blanket now draped over his right shoulder, began to wonder if there was a suitable structure for him and the Mandalorians. Then, as Vihk's mind began to wander, he located an organization building that was particularly large. The organization was indiscriminate and Vihk guaranteed if it was on NarShadaa it was a criminal cartel anyway, but there were no guards posted out front. With a rigid smile coursing through his exasperated expression, Vihk posted the coordinates throughout the Mandalorian comm channel and took steps toward the building door in hopes of preemptively scoping the area out.

 

Step by step he closed the distance fairly quickly, but once his foot touched the front tile of the door alarms went off inside and the door began a swift locking procedure. Thinking quickly, Vihk located what looked like a terminal near the door. So his hands rapidly moved toward it typing out encryption codes and as the security system rained itself down upon him, Vihk countered the system's every movement with a coded countermeasure.

 

Vihk's old hands succumbed to the speed required and worked like mad to achieve what brute force would not accomplish. Calluses hit oily keys as each branch of the security measure was pushed... One by one...

 

five...

 

four...

 

three..

 

two..

 

ONE!

 

Finally Vihk beat the door's locks, leaving the durasteel passage unlocked for easy access. Then, seeing no other dangerous or oppressive security measures, Vihk took his blaster rifle from his back and opened the door slowly.

 

Nothing...

 

For such a rapid security measure it appeared that the first level of the complex was abandoned. Vihk puzzled for a few moments before other Mandalorians began to leak through the door behind him.

 

Hmmm... Vihk mumbled quietly, "if there are no people on the first floor...".

 

Vihk quickly left the ground floor in hopes for some action, but as he climbed lower and lower the same pattern seemed to repeat.

 

At least it's consistent, Mandalore thought as he continued his venture to the bottom floor which was locked down tight. The multilayer durasteel door seemed sturdy and there were multiple latches attached to it, but it was the body guard that Vihk noticed at first.

 

Maybe this is why I've never heard of this organization, Vihk thought as his eyes laced the so called "security" with incurable scrutiny.

 

A single Rodian was equipped with a CDEF Blaster Carbine and positioned at the front door. So, not wanting to spend too much time with the man, Vihk shot the carbine out of the officer's hands and closed the distance between them quickly. What Vihk began to notice though, was that the Rodian, although shot, showed no visible apprehension toward the pain he'd received. In fact, the Rodian seemed to smile underneath his misshapen features and without blinking the green Menace unsheathed a Vibroblade, moving at the same pace toward Vihk.

 

Mandalore grunted to himself as he grabbed the Rodian's blade arm with his own massive ones and wrenched it behind the alien's back until he heard a loud snap. Pain apparent in the now sobbing Rodian's face, Mandalore looked into the alien's eyes and stared...

 

"Now, give me the key or your arm will be the least of your concerns... Understand?" Vihk emphasized as he took the first finger on the Rodian's broken arm and twisted it all the way around, listening to the Rodain's cry with a stone expression.

 

The Rodian's words were fragmented and were hard to understand because of Vihk's only relative knowledge of Rodese, but Mandalore retained the information he needed and said goodbye to the Rodian as he twisted the alien's head til it's legs buckled. That seemed a little too simple Vihk thought as he looked around for any other threats, but deciding against taking too long in the hall, lest he be mauled, Vihk picked up the carbine, strapped it to his back and unlocked the Thick Durasteel door.

 

A click was all Vihk needed before the door he was trying to open was sprayed with blaster fire. Apparently the bulk of the organization had fled to the lower levels and thereby let the leader benefit from added protection. However, what they hadn't really considered was what bad maneuvering comes of having a large group clustered together. So, as Vihk stood his ground, the door pushing against his foot with added pressure in each bolt, Mandalore took a couple small metal spheres and tossed them, into the enclosure.

 

A simple measure he though as he patted the detonators at his hip roughly, let's see if they can escape from this.

 

Silence...

 

Then screams filled the room and blasters sporadically charged leading feet throughout the room as boots smashed the floor indiscriminately.

 

A third canister followed though as the explosion scored its bout and as soon as smoke poured from its tank, Vihk made a roll, armed, into the room holding his breath. Brief blurs were inexplicable in the pulsing fog, but in seconds large blurs came into view as men were in a chaotic transition. Some henchmen were choking, some were limping, some were running and a smaller regiment were heading for cover.

 

Taking no time off for laziness, Vihk dispatched the free agents immediately. Then, letting the cowards hide behind their screens, Vihk used the fog as a shield, moved slowly about the barricades and quietly started breaking bones of henchmen and dodging sporadic bolts that flew towards a misshapen blur. Vihk, who had been trained in this environment could see as well as he wanted and grabbed his assailants as they shot at random, taking their lives quickly and subtly.

 

Granted a few of the henchmen's shots hit Vihk, grazing his wounds and breaking the skin here and there, but their efforts were cut short. The fog seemed looser and Vihk found what he was looking for and as soon as the fog cleared Vihk stood with his rifle barrel down the throat of the organization leader.

 

"Now, what is it you guys do exactly?" Vihk said with a coy inquiry.

 

The muffled answer was hard to defer, but the rather interesting tentacle faced boss managed to get his message through... "Metal huh?" finished Vihk with a flinch of his fingers. "perfect"

 

The Boss's arms went limp and although the event was insignificant, it was made all the better when Mandalorians came into the room to witness it...

 

"Alright boys and girls, let's get these bodies out of here and get this place cleaned up." Vihk swept a few particles of dead skin off of his cargo pants and moved toward the gathering mass of Mandos. "Alright guys and gals, we have quite the task here. " sighed Vihk as he looked about, "you, you and you... See if you cant get us a great deal of bedding, me and a few other Mandalorians will go and find this "metal" that the boss was talking about and I will begin preparations. Then we will fetch the iron for our armor and hide it as best we can. The rest of you try and make the best of your new home... You'll be here for quite a bit."

[Osku]

"Zcuth! If you are listening to this comm, I want you to do two things. I want to you tell the other Mandalorians that for the time we must go into hiding; we are not running away, but separating for a time as to prove strategic in this endeavor and leave our enemies dumbfounded as to our presence.

 

However, I would like it if you came to Nar Shadaa and spoke with me. We have much to discuss and if everything goes well we will have a Mandalorian future to invest in as time progresses."

 

The words rang sharp in Zcuth's ears as he stepped out of the V-wing and onto one of the many landing platforms that Nar Shadaa, and this particular spaceport (an out-of the way and nondescript one, which were legion on Nar Shadaa). Breathing through his helmet's ventilation systems, he could already detect smells and sounds that he had never heard or smelled before in his life, for as a farm boy living upon Tatooine's desert sands, Zcuth had rarely been exposed to drugs and other illegal substances as he had been now. The thought revolted him, nearly making his stomach puke, but he held it in. He was Mando'a now, and if he and the rest of the Mandalorians were going to survive, they were going to need to hide where others could not find them. Primarily, Nar Shadaa.

 

Walking out of the check-out office after negotiating the landing price with a rather shady Gran, he looked up at the numerous traffic lines and catwalks and skyscrapers, noting the colors on the signs that advertised in Galactic Basic, or some in their own, foreign languages. Diagrams of Twi'leks dancing to and fro, or Death Sticks being used by a charming and appealing young subject, it was all awkward to Zcuth's eyes. Some of the things he didn't even know. Gentleman's club. he thought, what is that?

 

After standing there and taking it in for a few moments, Zcuth was bumped into by a Trandoshan with a flight suit on. He muttered something in Dosh and looked over at Zcuth as he walked past. Zcuth stared him down, his visor offering a gaze of emotionless spite mirroring that of a machine's.

 

Eventually, the Trandoshan disappeared into the crowds mobbing along the catwalks, and Zcuth followed suit, though not following the Trandoshan, obviously. For his job now was to find Mandalore. The only question was how and where.

[Vihk]

Vihk was pretty precise in his orders and although Jaraht doubted heavily his success in finding the Mando Vihk was looking for, he found that Zcuth was the only Mando on Nar Shadaa actually wearing his beskar'gam. Jaraht found the man walking about the crowd and saw as he had a minor altercation with a rather large Transdoshan.

 

So Jaraht, out of his beskar'gam, walked up to the figure known as Zcuth in a very casual looking outfit. Then, after spending around 20 feet walking at the Mando's side, he inexplicably bumped into him. There was nothing to give precedence to his gesture, but as if to give pause to his previous action, Jaraht walked deliberately in front of the Mando's path and caused the Mando in question to stumble.

 

After his crude gesture though, Jaraht made sure he held the Man's attention as he walked slowly into an alleyway and down a few streets, using a few gestures with his hands to emphasize his moves.

[Osku]

Zcuth nearly fell to the cold floor beneath him when the odd man had bumped into him, but it only took a moment to regain his balance, even though several others nearly bumped into him due to not paying attention. The whole commotion produced quite a few more grunts and curses then was needed, and one would think that in such a place as chaotic as Nar Shadaa, that people would not make such a big deal out of it. But there were quite a few aliens of unrecognizable species for Zcuth that seemed to carry on about it, even as they moved away from him, melded into the crowd.

 

But Zcuth's eyes (or visor, in this case) were more attentive towards the man who had bumped into him. And that man was now traveling down the stream of civilians towards Mandalore-knows-where, so naturally, Zcuth followed him, perhaps it was to chastise him for not watching where he was going, or perhaps it was to ask directions, Zcuth was unsure at this point. What was sure was that some invisible force was telling the Mandalorian to follow this man. And follow he did.

 

The crowd was like a sea, always pushing him back the closer he got, but still Zcuth fought, shouldering his way past people with more then a few protests. In fact, Zcuth was called out to fight more then once, but Zcuth ignored it, knowing that it was a fool who fought here in this crowd, where unseen enemies lurked behind every routine maintenance droid en route to a repair site.

 

Finally, the man exited from the stream of people, and Zcuth followed suit. But now he noticed that his hands were doing something, Beckoning me? And then bumping into me? What is he trying to lure me into?

 

As the man disappeared into an alleyway, Zcuth stopped. He was unsure exactly who this man was, and if it was some sort of murderer or irritable drug dealer, it would be trouble. But on the other hand, something inside Zcuth told him that there was no danger here. Still, Zcuth readied his suit's flamethrower systems by activating a button on his suit's forearm armor, and proceeded cautiously into the alleyway behind the man, not knowing what to expect...

[Vihk]

Jaraht slowly smiled as the newly wrangled Mandalorian moved swiftly at his heels and was rather pleased when he started readying his weapons. The mild stench of the Nar Shadaa streets couldn't compare to the arid waste that moistened the air of this alley, but it was more the convention of this particular meeting. No one would follow them; the two would be completely alone here save for a handful of parasites that leeched upon the very ground they walked on.

 

Staving off a mild sense of suspicion, Jaraht noticed the man behind him get closer and once he reached a certain point inwards, Jaraht stopped his procession. The Mandalorian Lord paused for one moment and then in the span of a few minutes slowly turned about to reveal himself in the vague light that penetrated the depths of the foul clustered fog that was no doubt the remnant offset of alien sewage.

 

Jaraht smiled slightly, looking upon the fellow mandalorian although the man had no reason to trust him. Lights fell in different directions and sounds echo cavernously about them, dulling the quality of their voices, but Jaraht tried his best to stand out in the opaque sound mixture, while keeping his voice as low as he could.

 

"I am Jaraht Ajek Kaeldrohma, Clan lord of the Skirata Mandalorians and yes I am a commando. Would you happen to be Zcuth by any chance? If so.... Mandalore sent me to find you..." finished Jaraht in further hushed tones, although the smell from around them burned his nostrils fiercely...

[Vihk]

The man didn't seem to respond to Jaraht's attempts at leading him to the base and although he was a fellow Mandalorian, Jaraht felt that patience was futile at this point of hurried determination.

 

A crawling heap of sweat dropped clumsily upon Jaraht's chest, the black robes he was wearing proving too warm for his body. His exhales were caught and sucked into the amalgamated gas that flooded the site which stank like a wet Bantha under the hottest Tatooinian cycle. Jaraht had no desire to stay there and with quickness disarmed the Mandalorian, heaving the man onto his shoulder. The effort was enough to make Jaraht stand on edge and the little fellow squirmed quite violently against his will, but Jaraht inevitably prevailed and shot from the alley with tears barely waiting behind his burning blue eyes. The refreshing air however, bit back the pain and Jaraht moved on through the masses of people with as subtle a flourish as he could with an average sized man in armor flailing about.

 

Needless to say the pair got a little attention, but Jaraht managed to skirt the outsides of each crowd and lose each tracker through the masses as if they couldn't even notice the large metal arms floating above their heads.

 

This was in part because of their only lingering desire to pay attention to the new discovery and because they had duties elsewhere. So, aside from those few altercations the pair managed to make it all the way to Ahzinger Armors with Jaraht panting heavily and the man above him still squirming like crazy. Jaraht had sever bruises on his back because of it, but he promised Mandalore he'd get Zcuth here no matter what and even if this wasn't the guy, he was another brother all the same.

 

Taking a moment to punch in the code, Jaraht set Zcuth down on his feet after once again getting punched square in the back, pushing his knees closer to the ground and his arm up in a reflexive counter that managed to daze the armored Mandalorian.

 

Once Jaraht set Zcuth on the ground though, he figured that deliberations would wait and he left Zcuth outside while he walked in, subtly indicating for him to follow.

 

((alright, I wanted to hurry things up so if you have anything against this let me know, but if you are going into the armory post in the thread indicated as such, but if you are being really indecisive you can post out here... Just post when you can Osku))

[Vihk]

As soon as Jaraht had gone into the doors of the mysterious armorer though, he came back out, not noticing the still frozen Mandalorian that had yet to enter. It seemed that the Skirata clan Lord was on a rapid tread and as he talked on his comm would not be bothered by anyone.

 

The hands that had been rallied so far tallied to about 300 strong and although Jaraht himself wanted more and was anxious to begin with so few, he indicated their cardinal direction, pushing all Mandalorians to make it to the system as quickly as possible. Sweat lurched upon the precipice of his brow as Jaraht himself mounted an Alpha 3 Nimbus in full beskar'gam, but like the others he was soon initiating pre-launch countermeasures and preparing to challenge fate. The cold air of Nar Shadaa brushed over the Mandalorian as the click hiss of his helmet made its stand upon the atmosphere and without another sight nor sound, Jaraht shot into the cockpit seat and closed all hatches.

 

20 Meteor-class Q-Carriers, 20 Alpha-3 Nimbus-class V-wing starfighters and 30 StarViper-class attack platforms shot into hyperspace heading for the onslaught in the Krayiss system...

[Sheog the Mad]

<>

Sheog belched and grabbed another handful of the delicious white worms he was obsessed with and put them promptly into his gaping mouth. He forced them down gullet and paused for another breath. He felt satisfied, but as always, spurred on by the gnawing hunger that resided inside his aching skull. He leaned forward in his throne and eyed the blue holograph of his father Radcrass.

 

<>

 

A large smile spread over the elder Hutt's blue, holographed, face, emphasizing the many scars Radcrass had accumulated over the years. Sheog smiled in return, and grabbed for another large handful of worms, but instead of eating them, he began sorting them by size and deliciousness on the table beside him. Radcrass shook his blue face, and leaned forward as the holograph terminated. The change in sound woke Sheog from his madness. Sheog slowly gazed around his sparse court sitting around his mobile throne room onboard The Demented Madness. There were few sentients, one Trandoshan (Ogarth) and one Gand (Joha'a), but many droids of many shape and size. Sheog's favorite (and most abused) droid was a black protocol droid, Hakill. Sheog motioned with his hand and Hakill made his way across the small throne room and stood beside Sheog.

 

<>

The droid buzzed annoyingly, the only sound he could make thanks to Sheogs order to remove his voice synthesizer. Hakill opened the com to a closed and encrypted channel and awaited futher orders from the Hutt.

 

<>

The Gand leaned forward, ”œHow about Honorable Sith Allies?”

[Charon]

In the middle of dinner the lights went out. Calamity and confusion created in the poorly laminated room as servants and droids alike scrambled to find the source of the disturbance. Then all went black for the Hutt, and the scene escaped him.

 

It was no easy effort managing him to the ship, especially unconscious, but the deed was completed none the less.

 

Ask and ye shall receive.

 

((Yes, I kidnapped you. Don't want to be kidnapped, say so and we'll figure out other ways to get you to the temple, but for now time is of the essence.))