And the Streets Ran Red! (Open to all)

[RC 212]

Location: Tatooine, Mos Eisley

Darkness...

That was all the cursed alchemical blade whispered into her heart. Ever since creating Soulbreaker, the obsidian blade had cursed her very soul. It hungered to feed, no needed to feed. After so long drifting among the edges of space she'd come back. Althea, the Scourge of the Stars, damned child of the Raxis bloodline.

And tonight, Soulbreaker would feed. Tonight anyone that resisted her would fall by the sword, and their souls would be absorbed to feed the demonic blade. Tonight the streets of Mos Eisley would run red with a flowing river of blood. Crew would be conscripted, and cowards would be slain.

In one hand the Witch captain held the blade, eyes roving over the intense dark metal. With a growl she sheathed it, and reached for her thin leather and metal strip armor. It slid over her body with a jingle, snapping snug into place. Last she swooped up her hat and placed it upon her braided hair.

"Cap'n, we've just landed."

"Aye, assemble the crew as planned."

As she neared the door Althea took one last glance at her quarters. Alchemical projects littered the tables and floors. Scrolls of ancient spells and dusty tomes lined her book cases. The blade whispered into her mind.

Kill....Consume....Feed....

"In time...." Was all she offered.

Moments later the Xo'Xann destroyers ramp fell into the dirt of the space port and she emerged. With a firm gaze into the dying light the Witch woman stalked down the gangway, one hand placed firmly upon her hilt. The cool breeze kissed the sweat of her brow, and the mercenaries and pirate crew behind her growled in anticipation.

The other hand, clutched her flag. A green banner with the symbol of a raven, dark and sickly.

"Tonight this city is ours. Take the urns I have given you and fill them with the blood of cowards. Any man, woman or alien who refuse to join our crew must fall to the blade!"

The Pirates roared, blades drawing, blaster pistols powering up with high pitched whines.

"Tonight we will make our first mark in the stars in a long time. Go now, bring my wrath to the denizens of this cess pool. Let none survive!"

And they surged forwards, blades chopping, blasters firing. The Hutt lord guards were caught by surprise, shredded into bloody pools of ichor and bone. Althea led the charge, the dark energy of the beyond pushing her body to superhuman speed. Just as the battle began the port exploded with activity.

A Swoop gang descended the streets, two riders splitting off to warn the rest of the Criminal forces. The rest falling in line, charging her as she slammed the banner upright into the ground.

The lead bike came, it's Rodian rider clad in bantha leather, lowering his DL-44 for the shot.

"Yarrrrrrgghhhhh!"

The roar emboldened by the force crackled the air, causing mini storms of lightning to erupt around her. Her hand drew the blade, and raised high above her head. Then it dropped, letting go at just the right moment. End over end Soulbreaker whistled through the air, a deadly sickening purple shade permeating the metal as it sank through the Rodians chest, spraying gooey green ichor in torrents through the hot night air.

The raider party roared, and surged forwards. Soulbreaker returned whistling through the air to her outstretched palm, and the battle was met!

 

[RC 212]

Blood was flowing freely now. As Althea lept forwards her leather clad feet hit the side of a speeder and she backlifpped off landing behind two more guards. The speeder careened right and crashed, exploding into a ball of flame against the mud wall of the starport. The first guard was able to draw his vibroblade, but was cut short with a flourishing knick to the juggular.

As ichor sprayed the captain pivoted on one foot, bringing her blade high and down to the second guards head.

But it met steel there, and it gave her pause.

"You'll never get away with this!" The Gangster snarled.

Althea's brown eyes bore fire and flame.

"Oh but I think I will!" She roared.

She'd trained all her life as a swordsman, serving many different captains and nightsisters. The Obsidian blade retracted, thrust twice and her elbow locked. Both feet slid forwards with each strike, probing the guards defences.

Each stab was swatted away, and she pressed again, except this time, the blade dipped, retracted and whirled in a figure eight with devastating speed. Both blades clinked and clacked, sparks and dark energy flying around them. Althea gritted her teeth, beginning a low chant as the chaos unfolded, whispering long forgotten syllables.

Thrust, thrust figure eight.

And as she worked dark energy in a purplish aura coalesced around her fist, growing, throbbing, intensifying.

 

[Thema Csapla]

Thema had initially ignored the sounds of chaos exploding around the small mud-brick hut she and her host were bundled in. She was much too submerged in the cracked Jedi holocron to care about some drunken bar fight. Those were common on this backwater desert planet, and she'd long since grown to ignore it.

But as the moments went on... The feeling in the pit of her stomach grew, despair along with it. Deep down, Thema knew this was no common mishap with the leading Hutt cartel. No... There was a sinister aura lingering around her, and it wasn't just the holocron. Sighing gravely, the woman rose, collapsing the force-sensitive holocron with a wave of her hand. Just as easily as it had open, the red lights dimmed, and the pyramid collapsed in on itself, lowering itself to rest on her hand. She'd have to deal with this swiftly... Or else.

"Stay inside." The young Chiss ordered her Ithorian host, stuffing the fountain of knowledge into a leather pouch hanging on her belt. Alongside it rested her silver-plated lightsaber, just waiting to be used. She hoped this wouldn't be the case. Unclipping it, she opened her glowing red eyes, and paced towards the door. "And please, watch yourself." An untranslatable fragment of Ithorese sprouted from the old man, but she understood the jist of the message. "May the Force be with you." The old man had said.

The words were slightly empowering. Even so, she hesitated before stepping out towards the cool, desert night. Bracing herself, she stepped forwards, brushing aside the tarp the man had used to cover his doorway...

Only to confirm what she'd felt before. Death. "No..." She said, astonished, eyes resting upon the orange flames engulfing a great part of the village. All around her were the sounds of screaming, crackling fire, firing blasters, and the howling of swoop bikes. Somehow, she knew it couldn't have been a simple Tusken Raider attack. No... The offenders seemed too organized. Too well equipped. Off in the distance, she could make out the figure of two troop transport shuttles, bay doors open, devoid of life.

Pirates.

It made no difference to her. Pacing over towards the Hutt palace, the padawan ignited her lightsaber, green blades exploding out of the hilt, forming a green cross, illuminating the unscorched white sand with an eerie emerald glow.

Thema had never faced an entire pirate batallion before, but she feared they'd be the least of her problems. No, there was something far more sinister in the streets. Force-pushing two laughing raiders each other, she cut them down with one swift strike, silently taking them down before they'd had time to react.

As stealthily as she could, the Jedi made her way for the dark presence, collecting her knowledge, and her nerves.

[member="Althea Raxis"]

 

[RC 212]

[member="Thema Csapla"]

Sure footing was the work of master swordsman, and Althea was a Master at that. Having fought across many decks with vessels bucking and swaying under enemy fire had honed her instincts, but it gave her no edge here. Her opponent was cunning and full of guile. A feint left, followed by a slash right forced her to break the rhythm and swing her blade to parry.

"Yarrghh!"

And the parry was full of vengeance, all two hundred pounds of her muscle and torque going into it. She spotted her opening and took it, sliding the obsidian blade down the enemies and then lopping the tip around. With an upward flourish the hungry alchemical steel met flesh and separated the warriors sword hand, spraying red blood across her face and the sands as his heart pumped furiously.

The chant continued, weaving dark energies into a crescendo around her. The Chaos and the lost souls were swirling about the place, giving the darkside a boost.

But witch magics were more than just some hokey religion.

"Alcaroth, nah gulaoth!"

The shadows moved, glistening about her body, hardening into a shadow smoky armor. Electrical currents arced and moved over her frame, cloaking her in an extra layer of protection.

"We are making ground!"

"To the tavern!" Althea roared, jumping up onto a nearby stone wreckage.

She lowered the sword in the direction of the end of the street.

That's when she felt it, something odd......

There seemed to be some kind of real opposistion here. Perhaps a worthy adversary at last.

 

[Rasor]

The Nightbrother was retreating steadily, he refused to give much ground but the pirate force was overwhelming. He ducked as a blaster bolt zipped past his head.

"Woi bata!" he shouted to the guards stationed around him, on his command they began to slowly back up firing as they did so. The most he could be appreciative for was the corridors of the cantina gave them slight cover, he was grateful for this much as he took shelter behind an outcropping of wall as blasters went off around him. He leaned around the corner firing at the first thing he could see, somehow the stray bolt connected and took a pirate in the chest, the man was flung backwards by the power of the bolt. The pirate force was too much, he and his small group of mercenaries were forced deeper into the cantina. He quickly fired behind him before taking off at a sprint in the opposite direction, ducking and weaving through the hall to avoid the blaster fire coming in his direction. A Gamorrean went down next to him, a Trandoshan to his left was struck in the back of the leg.

What was left of his group made it to the common area, the Hutt they were protecting was stricken with fear on his pedestal. Rasor scanned the area, no way out, no way out for his enemies either. He turned around and aimed his rifle towards where he had come. If he wasn't going to make it through this he would make sure he took out as many intruders as he could, his nightbrother life required his courage.

[member="Althea Raxis"] [member="Thema Csapla"]

 

[RC 212]

[member="Rasor"]

They were pressing the attack now. The main bulk of the force was making its way into the tavern with Althea at the fore. Step by bloody step they cut a swath through their opposition. Pirates roared as they clove flesh and bone. Some took grievous wounds, others fell limp and lifeless from well placed shots.

The citizens were being put to the sword as well as any who resisted. Those Urns she had given the men earlier would soon be filled. Teams carried them between them, following close behind her. Althea moved forwards, slicing a Rodian in half, and kicking another citizen with a roundhouse so hard he flew into a nearby building with a sickening crunch.

The path began to open for her, blaster bolts and blades skidded off the smoky shadowy armor, until she was at the front of the Tavern and had it surrounded. It was time to take on crew, as many as she could.

A single leather clad fist stopped the chaos, giving the town a moment of relief. Burnt flesh and acrid smoke thrust it's way into her nostrils. The feeling of fear was palpable she could taste it on her tongue. Both brown eyes flashed from beneath the hat as she stepped forwards through the door, shadowy armor crackling, ground blackening beneath her intense barrage of dark energies.

No one said a word as she scanned the crowd, cowering within.

Then she broke the silence.

"Whom among you has the will to live. To serve under the banner of my fleet and my crew. Speak now."

 

[Rasor]

The Dathomirian didn't know what to think as the woman, more muscular than even the nightbrother commanded the respect of all the pirates intent on killing he and his forced companion. He had never thought of himself as a pirate, it was something he felt he'd be good at, his life was filled with training and combat. His will to live was strong, it was the only thing that had kept him alive so far. Tatooine was certainly not a place he was willing to die, not here, not yet, not after he had lived most of his life in slavery.

"I stand before you willing to live." His allegiance to the Hutt meant very little, hadn't even given him a fair wage for his work, if he had to kill the creature he would, easily and happily. His pale red skin glinted in the rotating light as it swung on its cord. He could feel something in his gut, power radiating from this woman, he couldn't explain it. Whether he could or not he knew in his two hearts that his greatest chance at survival was to join her crew. He stepped forward keeping his hands at his side, he would join them, but he would not raise his hands in surrender.

[member="Althea Raxis"]

 

[Thema Csapla]

@Rasor @Althea Raxis

The next few pirates fell with more than just a little opposition. Blaster fire, screaming, and calls for mercy echoed around Thema, as the Jedi either cut through them, or slammed them into the surrounding buildings, knocking them unconsious.

Honestly, she'd had preferred they surrendered peacefully, and quietly. Now, their captain knew she was coming. And most importantly, that evil presence, ringing through the Force. Then again, the latter probably already knew of her presence. Light and Dark always sensed each other. Just as she did now.

Deflecting a volley of blaster fire back towards the burning cantina's guards, Thema paced in, taking a moment to glance at the droids which were now scurrying in fear around the building. They'd been caught outside when the incident had happened, but even so, some were half-melted, or damaged beyond repair. Not that Thema could do anything to help them. She was no expert with droids; she just knew enough to survive in a backwater planet like Tatooine.

Crouching down towards the most operational astromech, she set a hand on it's head, trying to calm the droid down using the Force. No such luck. Thankfully, it's programming responded in a semi-useful manner, making it turn over to her, and give a warbled series of beeps.

"Droid." She addressed him quickly, but fluently, words accentuated by her imperial tone of voice. "I want you to send a message to the nearest Republic or Alliance outback." The droid beeped in confusion, clearly unqualified for such a task. Groaning, she pounded her fist on the droid, receiving both a metal thumb and a shriek of protest in response. "Sorry." She apologized quickly, before inspecting the robot a bit more carefully. It was, indeed, an astromech. One of the older editions, and heavily worn from years of use, but still...

"Alright." She started speaking again, a bit more clearly this time. "See those dropships?" She pointed towards the twin pirate transports, completely empty, at least of lifeforms. "I need you to hijack one." She ordered, receiving an indignant beep from the droid. "Yes, I'm serious." The Chiss replied sternly, glaring down at the little droid. "When you achieve that, get away from the first ship, and destroy it with your vessel's blaster cannons. Afterwards, fly the ship down towards the old Czerka base." The droid gave an acknowledging beep, followed by a few more boops of complaint, and went on its way.

'At least we've got that taken care of.' Thema thought to herself, standing back up, and reigniting her lightsaber. With a few more steps, each more fearful than the last, she entered the cantina, red eyes swiveling around the crowded bar, counting her adversaries. At least a dozen. And straight in the center, a human, wearing some sort of primitive hat, and leather armour. 'She's it.' The Jedi thought, eyes landing on the onyx-black blade in her hands. It just rippled in the Force, leaving a dark streak wherever it went. As a Jedi- no, as a sentient, it was her duty to destroy that cursed sword.

Now, the question was, how? She could probably carve through half of the pirates, before being shot down. And that was without counting the Force-sensitive warrior.

Reaching out with the Force, the woman built up some pressure in the tavern's drinks machine. Slowly rising... Until it popped like a balloon, showering the nearby pirates with all sorts of Jawa juice and blue milk.

That was a distraction enough.

Leaping in, the blue lightsaber cut through the air, the hum of plasma swooshing and slashing through another two nearby pirates. Before her position turned into a glorified firing range, she dove under one of the cantina booths, using the thick table as cover.

"Face me!" She called towards the pirate captain, only raising her head for a second to bounce back a few blaster shots at her enemies. This was, no doubt, the stupidest thing she'd done in her life.