Crisis Over Iktotch (PM For Invitation)

[Astoach]

​

Ascended far above the windy, arid wastelands of Iktotch, the spice vessel, Amore, lazily drifted amongst the voids of space. It now steadily floated among the ethereal tracks of the planet's gravitational pull as it ever so gently descended from orbit with the ginger care of some unseen, guiding hand, and soon would catch aflame without the guidance of its crew in Iktotch's atmosphere. Distant stars flickered in the distance, illuminating its darkened corridors through the thick port windows, casting incandescent auras of crimson light through the stains of blood that drenched its empty halls. As the ship creaked, it signaled the beginning of the haunt, to the naked ear of the fearful, one might swear to catch the ever so distant, fading whisper of the dead, caught in the winds of vacuum and sealed away to the depths of the unknown.The crew of the Amore lay dead, stretched in bloody heaps of smashed, twisted bodies along the crooked walls of the vessel, smashed into the delicate craft’s panels and walls, and thrust into pulpous mounds of shattered flesh. Only ghosts dwelt within this crypt now, save for those who walked among the phantoms of pain.

“We heard there was a Dark Jedi Knight aboard,” moaned Astoach, his E-11 rifle drawn and shoved into the bony brow of the captain, the sole survivor of the slaughter commenced a mere half an hour beforehand. In such a brief snap of time the crew was eradicated by the duo, the Force Hunters [member="Kresh"] and “The Goblin” Astoach. Astoach's body had since erupted into the ecstatic tingle of stimulation as the first of the heads began to roll. The singed taste of burnt skin, erupted into blackened gore by the breath of his rifle, sung across his tongue and snuggled into his widened nostrils, inhaling heavily the scent of slaughter. “We would have told you!” cried the captain, a deep-voiced weequay, groveling at the floor before the man in the mask, the Polyp, his knees sinking into the muddy pool of matter that composed the skull of his first mate.. “You never asked, you just began shooting-“

“Is he aboard this vessel, yes or no?”

“Yes! We picked him up at our last location, he wanted transportation to-“

The shot erupted with a crack, splitting through the captain’s skull and spilling charred blood across the floor from what veins failed to cauterize. Sparks rained down to the ground, briefly illuminating the dark aftermath of the previous bloodshed which began to stain into the plated flooring, sinking into the cracks and crevices, and rusting the screws and the plasma-torched seals. It was a delicious taste, an appetizer of what was to come, the glorious, lucid climax of their hunt. They had been tracking this exotic beast for a while now, sniffing out his scent and clutching him tightly, like a babe to their breast, gently stalking his trail until they sensed the time of the upper hand was nigh. [member="Darth Raijin"] was a Dark Jedi, from what they could gather, and was expected to excel at roughly Knight level. They had intercepted his transport and Astoach had since sacrificed the entirety of its crew in the glorious name of his darkness, this Polyp that grew upon his face, the dark mask of Keln’shar carved bleak in the visage of his wraith, his grim harbinger.

Astoach took a long gaze into the darkness that dissolved away at the form of the corpse, sucking away at the shape, the purpose of his defeat, like derelict leeches of silence, or perhaps gnawing and gnashing like rats of death, of Sammael, dragging the dead to the beyond one scrap of meat at a time. He turned at long last, his cloak swashing and swishing with vehement, wicked purpose, and faced his partner, his pawn, his toy. “Kresh,” cooed Astoach in the calm manner of sweet release, beckoning his voice from the bowels of his throat. “Darth Raijin and whatever lucky survivors avoided our rampage are all that remains, ignite thermals into the vents and flush them out. Stick to the plan and we’ll route this demon and cast him back to the raging hellfire from which he was forged. We'll take his golden bones and compose a monolith, a symbolic praise to our message of vengeance. It's people like him that hurt people like you, like your family, go and stop him with me before he strikes again!"

 

[Dravek]

Kresh poked playfully at the broken body of a technician with his electrostaff. It sparked and shocked the corpse every time it made contact. These ones don't even make a fight, he wistfully thought to himself. What a shame. Too easy. He was brought out of his thoughts by Astoach's words. Thermal detonators in the vents. Easy enough. Darth Raijin would be much more interesting than these fodder he had just conquered.

Kresh noted a nearby vent and stepped on several bodies to reach it. That's when he heard Astoach state, "It's people like him who hurt people like you, like your family..." The words struck home. Every night, Kresh fought the same eternal nightmare of his parents' demise in his head. The Sith and the Jedi were responsible. The pain, the never-ending angered had consumed Kresh until he thought it near impossible for him to feel anything but hatred and sorrow. He had learned to channel these feelings when he fought, effectively making him unstoppable in combat. Yet every night when he lay down to sleep, the flashback to his parents' slaughter returned to him, embraced him. And each morning, Kresh would grow in his hatred. The Jedi and Sith must die.

With a roar, Kresh tore the vent cover off of the wall, flinging it at a corpse, crushing its skull in. He sunk his huge hands into his pack for a pair of thermal detonators and tossed them down into the vent as hard as he could. Darth Raijin would pay, and all like him.

[member="Astoach"] [member="Darth Raijin"]

 

[Raijin Arashi]

Raijin was on his feet, holding his lightsaber in his Ataru guard position. He'd felt the rage of the two men who were killing all the passengers. His senses were outstretched in every direction, trying to figure out where the murderers were, and if there were any survivors still onboard. The deaths of the crew were fairly obvious, as their minds had been screaming with fear and bewilderment, and then suddenly silenced.

When the two grenades came out of the air shaft, the Shard was quick to slice one in half, but the other rolled past him, exploding and destroying much of the sealed room and bulkheads around him. He managed to jump far enough away from the other one to only catch the edge of the blast, but he noticed with a great deal of disgust that his shirt and pants had been scorched and partially burnt. He heard himself growl as he pulled off the remains of his shirt, "Dammit, I liked that shirt. And... oh, you frakking schuttas!"

The lightsaber he'd been using was scorched and sparking... Raijin threw it across the room, and watched as it exploded into little bits of metal and crystal. And now he was unarmed. Wonderful.

[member="Astoach"] [member="Kresh"]

 

[Astoach]

Nigh was the time of the hunt, the corporeal bounds of skin pickling in goosebumps and Astoach’s excitement intertwined with his flesh. He smelled the air with fresh inhales, pulling the scents of death through the leather exterior of his mask and basking in the sweet taste that tickled his tongue, flexing and taking in his surroundings with motherly care to the details provided. His heartbeat accelerated, pumping fresh, divine and holy blood through his wicked veins, energizing the predatory body with intense sensation. Nigh was the time of the hunt and now this Wild Hunt rode the skies of Iktotch, frothing and foaming at the mouth in rabid excitement for the heralded bloodshed prophesied in Astoach’s visions of conquest. “Kresh, let’s begin.”

Astoach unclasped the power pack, inspecting the energy cells nuzzled beneath its shell before clicking the magazine back into place. He undid the stock clip, extending the butt of the gun snuggly into his elbow and fastened the lock, extending the power disperser to lethal levels of emission via a small settings switch on the side of his gun. “Don’t play with your food this time,” commanded Astoach as he finished screwing the fixed flash suppressor to the emitter tip of his blaster. “He’s a Knight and if you can recall the war that consumed your village, Knights are the footsoldiers, the fodder. He’s average rank but don’t let the simplicity of his persona fool you, he’s capable of vast displays of sorcery, capable of demolishing homes with ease. He's a monster. Approach with caution if you want his head, otherwise you’re getting us both killed.”

He straightened the primary focusing coils and raised his gun, aiming down the distant length of a gloomy corridor before raising the barrel to the ceiling, now carrying his weapon with nonlethal intent for the meantime. He snapped a small bud from his utility belt and popped it into his ear, addressing [member="Kresh"] further, “[member="Darth Raijin"] is a dangerous opponent, one neither of us should take lightly. Put your comm extension into your ear so he can’t eavesdrop on our channel and split up, take the lower level and destroy every hiding place you can find. I’ll take the upper level and the cockpit; I have some work to do there. Destroy all escape pods, firebomb rooms you come across, and leave no one alive.” With that he snapped on the E-11 rifle’s targeting sensor, which beeped in an almost eerily excitement akin to Astoach’s own. “We’re taking this Shard’s head tonight.”

 

[Dravek]

Kresh's huge hands gripped the small comm extension and shoved it in his ear as best he could. It didn't fit as well as he would've liked, but it worked. Plodding across the bodies to head further into the ship, Kresh was ready to search the bowels of the ship for survivors. Passing through each room, Kresh would promptly swing his electrostaff into anything that looked important; control panels, crates, pipes, vent covers, etc. It was so satisfying. However, the ship was large and he needed to move on.

The escape pods would be lower in the ship. Spotting a stairway at the end of the hallway, Kresh jogged towards it, each step sending vibrations that rattled any loose items. Then he heard a noise in a small room to his left. Almost missed that one. Squeezing himself inside, Kresh laid his eyes upon two wimpering passengers, huddled in the corner. Kresh smiled at them. "Don't worry," he whispered. "It'll be quick." A couple of swings with his staff took care of them.

Kresh plodded over to the stairs. Either this Shard was in the lower levels, or where Astoach was sweeping. Either way, they'd find him.

@Astoach@Darth Raijin