Fallenreaper

Blood Act I~ Ghosts of the Past

About the only one that has anything close to a gun would be Zaad, namely cause I can't find any other weapon to fit his history. Not to mention it's a one shot at time type and likely to miss then hit sometimes. :p

The Scrolls of Aerusya - The Throne of Evil

MacabreFox said
That's all and well. I'm waiting to see the outcome of Fed. If and when he rejoins, but I'll get a post up soon. Most likely by Wednesday, I'm a bit busy with school atm.

No problem.

Star Wars: Coruscant Sacked: Aftermath

Sish~l~Xid: Rtron and Fallenreaper

Sish was walking towards the prisoner cells when another Sith, the useless one that had gotten captured by a Jedi, ran past him. She smelled of fear and panic. He was mildy curious for three seconds. Then, his mind returned to the Jedi he was going to kill, and he forgot all about the useless human female and her terrified sprinting. He had located which cell the Jedi was in beforehand, using a computer to find the information he needed. As soon as that was done, he left, going as fast as possible wihtout actually running. A few more moments passed after Thalia ran by him, and a medic team followed by troopers ran past him, heading for the prionser cells. Now his curiosity was roused, if only because he was worried they were going for his Jedi. There was no fun in killing a nearly dead or severly wounded opponent! It would be like crushing a bug! Short, and depressingly unsatisfying.

So, Sish was greatly relieved when Strago was rushed by him, rather than the Jedi he was promised. Within a few minutes, he was at the cells and entering them. The smell of cooked flesh, and the prisoners inside looked like they had been through hell. Which wasn't much of a surprise, given that this was essentially hell for the Jedi. He ignored every prisoner except the one he was supposed to kill. Walking forward with a feral grin on his face, he activated his lightsaber. The Jedi backed away, perhaps sensing what was to come. "It would be easier if you just faced your death with some form of guts. Less work for the both of us."

Xid hadn't paid attention to where his sluggish steps had taken him and his head slightly throbbed from the effort to help Strago, the day seemed more hellish the longer it went. Not that he could tell day from night anymore. Merely they just melted into one another and his mind gave up trying to tear them apart as now all his thoughts turned to sleep. Rest might heal his pain. At least the physical type. The nightmare wouldn't give him any mercy, the young Padawan felt, before something nudged his mind.

Immediately his feet moved. His body darted, wearily, to one side. Too quickly in fact that he failed to registered which way he had shifted, stepped away his cell and towards Taia's! It took a moment for the Padawan to realize it until the familiar sound of the bulk doors opened. A strong dread washed over the youth when his eyes spotted Sish's form walk into the Cell Block, his claws clicked and clanked on route towards where the pair were. His form passed each field as it went down, the Sith ignored Xid to stop in front of the older Jedi. His claws clicked his lightsaber to life that casted its bronze.

Not again... Xid thought with wide eyes, his body moved from against the wall to step between Sish and Taia. He didn't stop the next word from exiting his lips, struggling to remain on his feet during his statement. His eyes lite with something deeper and different then before. "I can't let this happen again..."

Right around the same time that the soon-to-be-dead Jedi ran out of room to run away from him, another one stepped in his way. Sish turned his gaze from the terrified Taia to the exhausted Xid, glaring. He couldn't maim or kill the other Jedi, not without repercussions. But, that didn't mean he was just going to let the annoying Jedi get in his way. Still, he noted that there was something different in the Jedi's eyes, and in his bearing. He wasn't the cowed pathetic bug from before. Sish shifted his stance so he was facing Xid in a more ready position, before responding. "You won't let it happen. You'll just not get in my way after a nice little show of attempting to defend her. With that, he shoved Xid out of his way with a strong Force Push.

Xid wasn't strong in the Force enough to stop the Sith from tossing him away. He felt his body shoved to the side, his feet lifted off the ground in his tumbled towards the wall. Wham. His body hit it hard enough, the pain rippled through his spine and head, his mind saw stars. For a moment, the Padawan blinked. His thought stalled in his stun before he tried to get up. His boot slipped out from under him, preventing his weak form from rising. No...NO! Xid's mind screamed at his fumble.

Managing to sit up, he held out his hand and attempted a force push at Sish's leg. A weak one thanks to the strength sapped from healing Strago. He would be surprised if Sish could even notice it, let along affect the Transhadon.

Ignoring the Jedi he had thrown to the side, Sish walked ever closer to Taia. The padawan had ran out of room to retreat to, and threw up her hands at Sish, as if to fend off any blows. The Trandoshan was distracted by the light tug from Xid, and when the much stronger push from Taia arrived, he stumbled backwards. Seeing an opportunity, Taia tried to run past Sish, to at least make more space between him and her. Seeing her attempt to run past out of his good eye, Sish lashed out with his lightsaber.

A scream echoed in the small chamber as the lightsaber sliced into Taia's leg at the thigh. The girl crumbled to the ground, and Sish regained his balance. Walking over, he grinned at her before kicking Taia in the side. His claw came back bloody, having torn through flesh and robes, breaking ribs in the process.

The crack of bones and sight of blood made Xid's body shake. His mouth couldn't allow the words to escape as his hand pressed against the wall, unable to rise and help. He knew he had to do something. Not just sit here and watch her died, his mind felt a bit numb to the sight.The youth's breathing seemed never to settle in his lungs, his heart raced like a hooved animal that beat at his chest. What good was he if he couldn't save her? The question seemed to taunt and torment him, the unsaid truth that proved he was pathetic. Then again he never put much worth in his own life. A mere tech who's only worth was tinkering with machine but the creature that did this, he was bone and flesh. The plain fact Sish was living made Xid unless.

A memory... that familiar voice echoed past words again. You and I, we see the world very differently. Why change our view of the world when it's easier to just adapt the world itself to our view?

The Padawan blinked for a moment and let the slight click set in. How could he had forgotten that? After all this time it never made sense before until now. Xid closed his eyes, forced his breathing and body to settle through Taia's screaming. Each time the Sith kicked harder depriving some sick pleasure from the blood he drew and the bone he broke. Not easy to ignore the sounds during the struggle as he fought the shivers that finally died down. Under his breath Xid muttered an inaudible phrase then snapped his eyes open. His teeth gritted and hand flipped out, pointed at Sish's planted foot. Energy, small but focused aimed at the Sith's leg where the Achilles tendon was.

Just as he was bringing his leg back for another kick, taking a pleasure in the blood slowly pooling beneath Taia's body, he suddenly felt pain in the back of his ankle. Pain the blossomed into a small, centralised form of agony as he felt the tendon snap. He hit the ground with a thud, snarling a curse in his native language. Taia was too busy curling in a ball from the pain to have done it, and there was only one other Jedi in this room. Sish glared at Xid, wishing that the Minder had made it three targets rather then just two. It would so easy just to kill the both of them and be done with it! But no. He had seen what happened to the apprentice that had killed the prisoners without permission. While he doubted they would be able to do that to him, he also knew that his own punishment would be very painful, and not very fast.

So, rather than impaling his lightsaber in the two Jedi and leaving, he raised a clawed hand towards Xid. Without a word, lightning arced from his hand to the Jedi, fueled by Sish's hatred, frustration and anger.

Pain... the lightning hit Xid like a familiar feeling that seemed to rip him apart. He let out a scream, long and loud, his force released from the Sith. His focus torn between fighting the pain and not seizing up. His muscles tensed, seemed to fold up or collapse in on themselves. He couldn't just stop now. His heart seemed ready to bust from his chest, the purple jagged lines raced up his arms and legs seemingly to cook his flesh. Focus...Focus through it... Xid scolded himself, knew he had to save Taia. He had to save her at any cost...

His hand struggled to edge out, slowly and painfully, finally straightened. His teeth were clamped shut from the dark energy rippled through him and part of him wished for it to end. Electric...nerve ends... in his mind Xid saw the living wiring that aided the Sith, the spot near the Transhadon's spinal stem. He had to stop this. Not for him, but for those he cared for. His forced reached out just as his fingers curled, connected with a key nerve on the 'machine's' neck that would certainly distract and likely piss the Sith off.

Sish kept his lightning going, reveling in the pain he was causing, until he felt the pressure on his neck. Pressure rapidly turned into pain, and the pain turned into agony again. He had the sense of mind to realize that it was the Jedi he was electrocuting him before instinct took over and he crumpled to the ground, one hand going to his neck in a futile attempt to stop the pain. His other remained firmly clamped upon his lightsaber, however. Old habits die hard, and keeping his weapon no matter what was one of the oldest.

He became faintly aware of the fact that the Jedi could very well kill him here. The thought filled him with anger. Not because he was dying, that was going to happen sooner or later, but that it wasn't happening at the hands of Jayda. He had failed. The Zabrak was still weak, still unsure of where true power lay.

Xid was surprise he felt nothing when the Sith collapsed to the floor. It was scary and odd, his fingers curled tightly until it was just a fist. The lightning had ceased but he continued a little longer. He didn't want the Sith to get back up, never to hurt Taia again or anyone else he cared for. He wanted the suffering to stop above all else. Even if someone else was hurting to do it.

Xid felt sicken by the realization of what he was doing, his eyes filled with shock and terror at the image of his foe helpless just a bit away from him. This wasn't what he wanted, he realized as his fingers unfurled, the force pressure released and freed his victim. What had he done or almost do? The question rang in his head over and over, his hand dropped to his side. His head tilted to see the Taia's limp body, her eyes closed and blood stained the cell floor. A slight dread filled the Padawn when he couldn't tell if she was breathing or not. Painfully he pushed himself off the wall and started to crawl over to her, thinking for the moment the Sith would take some time to get back to his feet. Arms pulled him along until he was right beside her, his finger stroked her bloody cheek smearing red across the dark skin. Nothing...

He whispered, softly. "I'm sorry...I couldn't save you."

The pain suddenly stopped. Never one to let an opportunity slip away from, he pushed himself to his feet, snarling another curse as his snapped tendon flared in agony. The Jedi was crawling over to Taia, who was obviously dead. Still regaining his balance, Sish watched Xid warily. He couldn't understand it. Why were the Jedi so attached to the corpses of their fallen? The dead were gone, and cared little about how their bodies were treated. Yet, here the Jedi was, tenderly stroking her cheek. How could the Jedi possess such power, yet hold such weakness?

Regardless, he felt confident enough to walk without collapsing to the ground, so he limped over to Xid, catching his whispered apology. "You could have saved her. If you hadn't waited so long to use real power. If you had killed me rather than letting me go. You could have kept her alive for at least another day. But you didn't. You clung to your Jedi ways, and she died for it. Next time, I'd suggest you realize where powere is and use it sooner, so another doesn't die." And then, with is free fist, he hit Xid in the back of the head.

Xid could hear Sish's words yet they didn't seem to hold much meaning. It wasn't suppose to be anger he used at all but the strong need to protect someone, a person's whose life was worth more then his. The Sith was right, he waited too long yet he would never allow this to happen again. He couldn't. Xid had made a silent vow that day never to become like him and that was a promise he sought to keep. There wasn't death after, just the force and at least within it he would've been of greater use then what he had been.

He world went black the moment Sish's fist hit, the Padawan taken by brief pain and exhaustion in the end.

Before Sish left, he had to make sure Taia was dead. He had assumed someone was dead once before, and she had come back to try and kill him. That had worked out in the end, but the next time might not. With a deft flick of his lightsaber, Sish cut off the head of Taia's corpse. Deactivating it, he turned around, and limped out of the prisoner cells, heading towards the Med Bay.

At this rate, he was going to have to replace all his limbs with cybernetics.

Blood Act I~ Ghosts of the Past

Freeshooter92 said
I'm not saying I want guns, I'm just saying it's technically possible. All my character's/future ideas are all Melee fighters.

:p

Blood Act I~ Ghosts of the Past

Frettzo said
It took real humans about a thousand years more or less to go from inventing gunpowder up to modern guns. Guns have existed for what, six hundred years? I don't think anyone in Tiien has the expertise to make a gun :p

Indeed... I prefer to leave it that way for a long time as it messes with my plotline dangerously. I will eat anything that messes with my evil plans.

Blood Act I~ Ghosts of the Past

Crossark said
AND DON'T GET ON ME ABOUT ELECTRONICS NOT BEING A THING! THEY ARE IN THE TRIBE CYNN'S FROM! THEY WERE DISCOVERED ON ACCIDENT AND BLAH BLAH BLAH BOOOOOOOOKS.

Ah...no. :p Though they could make the Magic version using Runecrafters and Crystalliods.

Apocalyptica

Yeah, pay no attention to the crap Remmy post. I'm still getting back into the groove with him once more. XD

Apocalyptica

Remmy

Remmy just sat there. His body slumped in the window seat, feinting sleep, and body jerked when the worn tire passed over each road bump. Bright eyes closed and lost in deep thought, arms crossed over in a familiar while he leaned against the window’s cold glass. In the back ground his ears caught the dull dribble from the jolly pair beside him which was the only thing to make him realize he wasn’t alone. Their words, gestures and rather pleasant mood didn’t wash over the usually cheerful and sociable Cajun. At that moment he drifted between the disgusted thoughts about the would be slaves in back and prior events, mentally summed where Remmy’s choices had went wrong or to be more accurate, no longer benefited his mission.

He felt his anxiety grow a bit at the future ass chewing he would receive from Kurtis, the old man in a little huff over his little detour and the fact he had carelessly tossed away the Sentinel’s months long efforts in a span of a few words. Namely just a phrase but it worked, and then his mind glazed over the Slaver group he had been running with for some time and their reaction to his sudden change of heart. Remmy wasn’t surprised to find it was Hayden who was left a little dumbfound and disappointed. The old farm boy looked a bit grudgingly at Remmy for his choice yet knew anything said wouldn’t have changed the Cajun’s mind, merely made wished him good luck. Paul merely grumbled about being forced to make his own breakfast from now on and didn’t concern himself with his send off. Silva, on the other hand, had seemed rather relieved he was leaving. His little warning about Simon had rattled her more than he expected.

When he finally left, he had tossed away the efforts and sacrifices of many Sentinels. Any lives loss to retrieve the information or pain lived through was now pointless. His selfishness had wasted months just to cling to the idea for redemption. Even after all that Remmy was certain he would’ve made the same choice, his consequences been damned and the rest could go to hell. So now he rode here within a truck full of slobs, a slave cage hauled in back and worst of all, he could feel his foot filled with sleep’s pins and needles. For a moment Remmy had started to realize he missed his bayou home back in Florida only to hear the light thud. He jumped then, his eyes snapped behind in time to see a bloodied hand pressed against the glass and leave it’s tell signs. Panic stopped his heart, thoughts turned to Simon in back.

Jerked upright, he snapped his fingers for the other two’s attention then gasped. “Somethin’s wrong, stop!”

It took all his will not to just jump out and haul his ass to the back, his hand grasped over the Winchester on his exit. His hand opened the door seconds after the truck stopped and slammed it shut behind him, his figure already the first to head to the back followed by the other two. It had been too long since the pair had chatted. Conversation’s absence had its affect, the Cajun became a little antisocial and gloomy these past weeks, the difference well noted. Only tolerated due to his ability to make a decent meal the pair could quickly scarf down.

Quickly his boots brought Remmy closer to the back, his gun held ready and finger edged lightly over the trigger. The sight of blood made the three jittery. Blood meant a lot of things in this world, not a single one of them good or helpful as many had found out. When Simon fell to his knees begging to be killed, Remmy’s heart had seemed to shatter right then and there. A sad flicker entered his eyes that soon became a quicker action. The keys jingled, taken from Remmy’s dirty jeans, to reach out and unlocked the cage. His other hand pulled the iron bars wide while he felt the familiar sensation of guns pointed at his back.

The man’s mind lingered over the trigger fingers state didn’t help relax the Cajun, his eyes likely betrayed it to the pitiful man’s form in front of him. Finally, his guilt and fear swallowed down, he exclaimed loudly, "Y'know the rules? Few miles on your feet should remind you.”

This punishment was cruel but an excuse for him. A chance to give Simon hope and a reason to live, to help when he otherwise had his hands tied. They only had to make it to Chico alive then the Sentinels within the Haven could take it from there. If the man died before then, Remmy would never forgive himself as he hauled the pitiful shadow of Simon to his feet then leashed him to the truck. When other two slavers went back to the front, the engine roared to life and moved, caused the chain to taunt and tug the man along. Each time Simon stumbled or tripped Remmy’s stronger hands came out to hoist him upright again, ensured he wasn’t dragged along. A small, apologetic smile had secretly reached Remmy’s boyish face to ease the ill situation.

Soon he came around to working some humanity and hope back into the skeleton figure before him. It felt more one sided with each attempt, first subject shifted to Simon’s friends and then at last a topic the Cajun really missed: sex.

“Tell me again about your ladyfriend, Wendy,” Remmy purposely mispronounced Winifred’s name in hopes to catch Simon’s attention, his eyebrow raised in curiosity and taken a moment to glance ahead. He almost laughed aloud at the man’s gentle sigh, noted the spark of life in the hollow shell, and correction at his error. Remmy’s grin widened at his little secret, about to talk farther on the subject before something caught his attention. His body tensed when the truck stopped, his hand reached out to gently touch Simon’s shoulder. The pair stopped in their tracks and prevented the fragile man from toppling into the ground, Remmy’s eyes drifted to the low rumble from what seemed to be trouble. Shit he mentally cursed at spotted the Blackhawk, overheard the man read off what he knew.

That’s when Simon chose now to collapse. Concern and surprised, Remmy set his weapon down and took a knee to look the man over for answers. His hands settled upon the skeleton of man’s frame while listened to the slight gasps then tried to draw his own conclusion between Simon’s reaction and the sudden appearance of the Blackhawk. It couldn’t be an odd fact that the man choose now to give out, was it? He didn’t think so, his arm pulled the weaker man’s around his and hauled them both upright once more. Remmy half walked and half dragged his friend to prop him against the truck wheel then asked the oblivious questions on his mind.

“Simon…Simon,” His hands cupped the man’s jaw to lift his wearied eyes to meet his fearful ones, his words desperate to reach him. His fingers edged to tighten a bit at any lacking answer from the man or even signs he was fading too fast, “Are you alright? Do you know that Blackhawk? Answer me, don’t just fuckin’ give up brah.”

However before any answer could come, something coming towards them caused Remmy’s head to jerk up from a shout. Drawn by the alarm, he said one last thing to Simon, “Don’t you dare fuckin’ pass out on and die on me. You know, brah, your ladyfriend, Winni, won’t forgive ya if you did.”

With that Remmy moved away from Simon and stood, his Winchester ready, beside another slaver. The man in mute silence merely pointed his finger towards the rather large group heading towards them. In moment of realization, all the Cajun could think was that they were going to get their asses kicked… big time.

Blood Act I~ Ghosts of the Past

Invictus said
DANG IT! I just arrived back to the guild a couple days ago and was like, "Hey I need to find out if they've restarted Blood "...Barely missed the beginning of Act 1! Well by a while actually...

*poof* you don't see me stalking!

Not by much, we're technically on the first normal day and likely the last when all hell beaks out after the times skip... Trust it's going to be hellishly good fun. Though there's still many PCs as there is... I might consider allowing one more but you'll have to impress me with your CS. :p That is if the other two GMs are willing to accept another PC ( oh gods I need Lucius and Rtron to implant a mean bone into me at some point...)

*poof & vanishes*

The Scrolls of Aerusya - The Throne of Evil

Neat... I look forward to meeting him, hopefully. I've got a post in mind yet I don't want to write it up until the group moves on, namely past the fight scene, so I've got the scene details in mind.