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Al'at


Strange. Curious. I Must Know More.




Al'at absorbed the scene in, a deep exhale of oxygen releasing from his lungs as the information before him was internally reviewed. These six creatures were foreign to the Zaldean, and oh how he loved things that were foreign. While he was sure that this was no time to start speculating, the current danger was very apparent to the hungry man-boy. How would their blood taste, he wondered? His black velvet covered fingertips traced down to his right hip, lightly making their way to become a tight clasp around the soft handle of his sword. The blade was a dark-tempered metal, shaped into a crux with a ring circumventing its guard. Glee brushed over Al'at for a moment, it had been quite a good while since he'd been able to perform. It was like stretching after a long rest, hell, it was like waking up from a coma surrounded by gifts. Six of them, infact. He flashed a toothy smile and then his legs began to move.

These "Reavers" seemed to be mostly organic, their misshapen bodies a horrible twist of perhaps some aquatic lifeform and an arthropod? This was immediately to the favor of Al'at. His graceful steps brought him to a relatively untouched wooden cart. Relatively, because of an unrecognizable corpse leaned against said cart- a pool of deep crimson soaking the sand below the body. The hot sun would dry it up quickly, but the body would be a fine tank to leech from before engaging the curious little creatures. There were still a lot of people running away or engaging the invading creatures, a small band of five, likely mercenaries of some kind- were putting up most of the fight against them. Though standard bullet-fire didn't seem to do much damage. The hardened sickly blue exoskeletons being stronger than the pew-pew, but all Al'at would need is a small cut, the slightest laceration would be an open gateway to straining the lifeblood from within the Reaver. A plan needed to be devised, but he also needed to be careful- you never know who is watching. His vampiric nature becoming apparent to those around him would paint a big red target on his back, attracting undesirables to track him down and kill him if he isn't killed here.

"Maybe I am the undesirable? Hmm." He hummed in curiosity, distracting himself from the Michael Bay action scene transpiring between the mercs and the Reavers. But now was the time for action, not inner monologues.

He quickly broke from his location, powder brown shooting behind him as his leather boots kicked through sand at breakneck speed. A thin stream of blood trailing from the corpse to his sword would follow behind him, to the untrained eye it would seem to be a very subtle red glow. The blood would slowly begin to coat the edges of the blade, coagulating to extend the edge ever so slightly over time. As he reached melee range of the closest Reaver, his right hand would lash out with his blade to cut down across the creature's forebody. Futile, the armor was thick of course. But a line of the forementioned blood was painted upon the blemish of the Reaver's armor. His left hand continued to orchestrate the blood from the body near the cart- but now his target was marked, and he instead conducted the blood towards the slash on the Reaver's chest. It continued to thicken, the moist sanguine prying and burrowing deep within to create an opening for the sword to enter. Al'at dropped to a roll, then rose back to his feet and sprinted back to cover after this action- the Reaver seemed to take insult from the demonstration and turned away from his former targets aiming now at the white tailcoat of the Zaldean.

"L'thaaaaak! Zhhhshirrrtha!" The Reaver spat and gurgled in anger, firing plasma at the woodpile Al'at hid behind blowing through it forcing him to jump away from the debris. Splinters fired in every direction, and a second Reaver now aimed at the white-garbed man. Attempting to suppress Al'at they continued to fire in his direction, and he simply ducked in cover, his sword in right hand- fingertips orchestrating in the other. And after a few moments his efforts would find success.

Blood would find its way inside the lone Reaver's body, a diagonal slit of exposure revealing ooey-gooey innards beneath. The enemy however did not notice until it was too late, the foreign substance creeping its way into the soft inner body of the invader. They targeting organs of importance, hardening into razor blades and slicing their way through the creature's body. From the outside this was unknowable, the Reaver simply stopped and began to limp around in pain. Al'at leaped from his cover, a small run of blood dripping down his cheek as he took off towards the second Reaver firing on him. As he passed the one he infiltrated, it would fall face-forward to the dust below, a well of blood pooling from its chest before a small amount is lifted up in small globules and fired towards the second reaver to follow Al'at. It splattered upon the creature's face and left shoulder, but this was followed by a barrage of steel coming from the Zaldean's sword. Eight slashes would be afflicted upon the creature, two on it's head, six on the same shoulder. This Reaver however had a little more sense to it, lashing with its superior body strength towards the man with it's gun-arm knocking him away and concussing him. He was a dainty little man-boy after all. He grunted as he fell to the sand below, his sword attempting to form some friction as he slid across the sand.

He'd stop with his back against an iron crate, pale strands knocked from their neat form into his face as he huffed in a pout of exhaustion.

"Aim for the red one! It's armor will be weaker.. I'm going to find a shady corner to recuperate." He humorously announced, breathing heavily after the exclamation. Quickly he raised to his feet once again, he was tired, but something good would come of this no matter what the outcome. Blood continued to trail towards Al'at at a slow rate as he quickly staggered away from the action a block behind the mercenaries. They would be good shields, and distractions. He pulled himself into a small shaded corner, people continued to run by in fear but he was mostly hidden from sight- enough to sate himself. Red vapor slowly flowed inside his nostrils and mouth, sighs of relief were exhumed from him as new life essence entered his body- revitalizing him. He continued on for a few moments, taking his fill but not getting carried away- than turning back to peer back at the scene behind him. The mercenaries listened to him and focused their aim on the bloodstained Reaver, breaking through the weak points on its head and executing it. The leader of the mercs shouting, "Fuckin' got him!" and pushing her subordinates to move forward with a metallic black glove waving forward. The Reaver blood tasted foul, and wasn't particularly rich in life essence either. Al'at would visibly grimace as the last of the drained essence entered his body, puckering and squinting as he pressed his digits into the sand and using his sword to pry himself up once again.


My sheet is ready to be looked over, let me know if there’s any discrepancies that need to be fixed.
My sheet is still a WIP but it’s nearly done.


I’ll plop interest.
Al'at


Terersg -- Habbin Spaceport


Three days, minimal amounts of food and water, times were rough for this foreigner and things didn't seem like they were getting better. He was short on coin, and while he could probably get a hefty count of currency for the well-maintained Zaldean attire on his back- his pride just wouldn't let him go that far. Al'at instead accepted what was offered, kept on his feet and traveled as frequently possible. There was no time to waste, people needed to be spoken to, he had knowledge to accumulate. There was however one thing that irked the man, gnawing away at the back of his head like a voice of warning. Blood. He had six vials left of what he brought from home, and, while there was a surplus of the very life essence walking and breathing around him- you could not just approach a stranger and ask them for a small insignificant amount of their sanguine liquid insides. Or could you?

"No, I can't.." The Zaldean quickly retorted to voice inside his head, a sneer of annoyance embracing the man's pale youthful face as he lightly marched on with the light leather taps on the sand below, damn it was hot.

His crimson eyes would glance along the numerous races as he did so, observing and analyzing, he'd read about many of them in books but few-few of his people got to see them with their own eyes. A Garuda female in particular caught eyes with Al'at and scampered towards him, a near-predatory smile upon the woman's face as she pressed past the oncoming flow of people to approach Al'at. She stood a good foot taller than the man, pale violet skin, with glowing runes across her body. What gave her race away more than anything were the feathery ears that slipped through the woman's raven hair. Her glowing hues stared curiously at Al'at, scanning his attire and visage with an expectant look as she came to meet his pace at his right side.

Keep your head down bureaucrat. This is a place of profiteering and survival, no pampering will be had here.” She hissed, her slit eyes seeming to bravely peer at Al’at, her imposition casting a shadow over the pale man.

I’m not dressed for this environment my lady, and I’ve not eaten or consumed water in some time- why I’m not dead is likely a feat of magic or a biological miracle. So believe me when I say, pampering is something that I am not accustomed to.” Al’at retorted with a troubled-innocent smile. His pristine white teeth beamed up at the woman, though her attention seemed to be drawn somewhere else.

We will see about that, what brings you to the scorching sea anyway? Typically it’s merchants of some kind who visit us, perhaps you’re looking for a slaver?” She flashes her own sharpened carnivorous teeth a purple blue hue tinged her mouth. She was an interesting specimen, maybe she would offer Al’at some of her blood. She had plenty to spare after all.

She still matched his steps and kept with the flow of footed traffic, but her avian vision seemed to see something he could not in the distance near a public statue. Was it the statue? It seemed to be of a Seeq of importance, artfully clad in ceremonial clothes and holding a large stave. Curiousity overcame Al’at, but it would be quickly replaced with an overcoming sense of urgency. A speeder car flew by, nearly leveling a nearby section of people and maintained full-speed as it continued through the port. Whoever was inside cared little for who he wounded or even killed, just what exactly drove them to do this? “If you value your life little noble boy, you better start running.” The Garuda woman started to sprint, and many others behind them doing the same, Al’at instead decided to watch and observe. Acting without information wasn’t something he enjoyed doing, it was too impulsive. Whether this caused him to meet his maker, or to visually see or find out what was stirring up such a ruckus was all that mattered in this moment.

My post will be up early tomorrow!
There is an abundance of robo-dudes.
Not going to be able to give my all at this, juggling three roleplays at the moment and not finding any time to write much. Sorry for the false-hope I hope you guys find some more bodies to keep this going.
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