Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Dead on Arrival (Open; Roche Asteroids)

Neskar A'toll

Hail to the King, baby
OBJECTIVE: SCAN MEDICAL DECK
COMPANY: @Azalus | [member="Hannibal Oryen"]


Blood, guts and gore was the order of the day. The cranium of the undead chap imploded rather hastily, showering the nearby vicinity of Neskar with the aforementioned innards. The undead stumbled, taken aback by the loss of its head, and collapsed backwards onto the bloodied floor of the med-bay, spasming into death. Neskar kept his distance from the approaching corpses; despite his armour, he still didn’t want to get too close to them. He raised the CZ-836 again, cocked back the loader and shot once more, to the nearest corpse that took his fancy. It took the slug with gusto, after-all, it was merely shot in the throat, not anyway important. Despite the gaping wound in its gullet, the corpse forged on, grasping for Neskar’s flesh below the beskar’gam he so comfortably wore. The corpse was only two foot away, it dived towards him with malicious intent. Far too close for Neskar’s comfort. He jerked back rapidly, placing his right foot back so the grasping hands of the corpse cleanly missed his throat. Immediately after this, as the corpse recoiled slowly and shabbily, Neskar lurched forth, shoving the barrel of the slug-rifle right under the chin of the corpse. “Piss off.” he said gruffly, before squeezing the trigger, blowing the vast majority of the skull and brains of the corpse, which fell limply, all over the next one to come shambling towards Neskar.

Way too close for comfort, he decided, as he back-stepped onto a higher piece of ground in the med-bay - on a table, to be precise - continuously taking measured, calculated shots at the undead that shuffled towards him. These shots were not fast in deliverance, but they were majorly accurate, downing the undead within the second or third shot that entered their bodies. Rather be accurate and slow than messy and fast. Heh. But they still kept coming on. “Tell me again, what’s the point of this? I’d rather not be a tasty morsel today, thank you very much.”
 
Grozurra's armored boots thudded quietly on metal deck plates as the wookiee made his way down the hallway. His communicator echoed with orders and status updates and the sound of blasters firing as the other Mercenaries continued to fight in the hanger bay. He gave little thought to them. Grozurra knew that they could handle themselves and would clear the hanger soon enough. Instead, Grozurra focused his senses on what lay ahead of him. He could feel the creatures shifting in the darkness ahead of him. His helmet cycled through wavelengths and frequencies until the creatures were visible to him. There were three of them shambling in the darkness. They gave no indication that they had noticed the Wookiee or the Mando'ade that flanked him.

Holding up his left hand as a closed fist, Grozurra signaled the rest of his group to hold position. With luck, he'd be able to clear this group quietly and not attract the attention of any creatures hidden deeper in the ship. Grozurra stood still for a moment and focused his senses inward upon himself. He saw himself, echoed in the force as yellow light. Slowly and carefully, he focused on the yellow light and willed it to move. He pulled at himself. He smeared his essence over the walls and the floor. He smeared the yellow light over the ceiling and into the air-ducts that flanked the hallway. He spread his essence into the gears and wires and electronics that dotted his surroundings. He spread himself until all he sensed was the environment around him, which glew faintly of with dim, yellow light.

Grozurra didn't know how these creatures tracked prey, but he knew that any force sensitivity they might have would no longer detect him. His presence was blended into the environment as if he were simply a part of the ship itself. Slowly, carefully, and quietly, Grozurra moved forward. His bowcaster hung from its holster on his back, in each hand were his twin Ryyk Blades, each still stained by the dark blood of the creatures he had killed earlier. A feral grin spread across Grozurra's furred face as his body tensed and his blades were pulled back.

A few seconds later and twelve oozing mounds of flesh fell to the floor. A single click on the communicator signaled the rest of his team that it was safe to advance. Turning, Grozurra faced the thick, double doors that blocked the end of the hallway and read what was written on them. TRAM STATION. Grozurra willed the latching mechanism of the massive doors to release and used the force to force the two doors into their recessed positions to the left and right.


[member="Arrbi Betna"]
 
Betna had a longstanding rule when working with Wookiees: let the Wookiee go first.

He let the Wookiee step into the tram and followed suit. He took the time to reload his weapons and check his gear. Hopefully, there wouldn't be any more surprises. Unfortunately, he knew there probably would be.

[member="Grozurra"]
 
Grozurra stood in the doorway with the rest of his squad at his back. Before him, displayed in full glory thanks to the filter in his helmet that allowed him to see in the dark, were dozens of the filthy creatures. Each of which were staring directly at the wookiee.

<Sheb.> Grozurra thought as he backed deeper into the hallway. The noise of the doors opening must have been louder than he had intended.

Creature after creature crammed themselves into the hallway as they pressed against each other and eagerly scrambled to reach the Mandalorians within. Grozurra and his squad continued to back themselves deeper and deeper into the hallway. The squad of Mandalorians opened fire on the wall of abominations with blasters and slug-throwers as they withdrew. Grozurra held up an arm and pressed a button on his wrist with the other. A second later, a gout of flame erupted from the wookiee's wrist and bathed the horde of creatures in burning gel.

Unfortunately, they just kept coming. And now they were on fire.

<Sheb.>

[member="Arrbi Betna"]
 
Larraq stood behind the line of Mandalorians and Mercenaries that stood between the scanner and the approaching swarm of creatures. The scanner continued through its cycle as blasters and other weaponry barked out and creatures were shredded by the wall of energy and projectiles that spat from the weapons of his men and women. Larraq was glad he had brought so many with him. He had originally only intended them to lightly escort himself and his property as they worked to scan the ship. But now that things had gone to hazmana and back, he was all the more glad he had decided to be cautious.

He aimed his pistol at a creature as it approached from the flank. The mercenary guarding that position was reloading his weapon and they were being pressed to severely for the merc by his side to cover him. Larraq lined the ironsights up with where the creature's heart should be and pulled the trigger on the Ambassador Revolver in his left hand. A millisecond later, the creature was missing its head and a gaping hole stretched between the creature's shoulders. Likewise, the two creatures that followed it were missing huge chunks of torso as they slumped to the ground.

The revolver could stop a charging rancor. And one day, Larraq wanted to put that claim to the test. But frell if the thing didn't kick like a mule. His shot had been off-target by a good 4 inches.

[member="Kable Detta"], [member="Galaar Tal'Verda"], [member="Siobhan Kerrigan"], [member="Hannibal Oryen"], @Nolan Detta, [member="Neskar A'toll"],
 
Sitting silently amongst the other professional mercenaries, Ballen-Ist's dark clothed hood hung over his face, as to emphasize the mystery that shrouded his character. The Sith's red tinted skin was hidden by black coloured gloves he wore, his neck and lower face being covered by a thin piece of cloth. Hopefully he would be able to keep his true Sith identity hidden amongst the others within the transport as they headed to the apparent ghost ship. After joining up with the Mercenary Guild, Ballen-Ist was happy to hear of the strange job opportunity that had been posted. The pay was more than handsome, and the mission itself was rather intriguing. Who knew what one would find upon their venture of an abandoned ship. However, uponing opening the transport's hatch, the group would realize they were unfortunately not alone. The shrieking, mindless zombie like creatures would barrel forward in large numbers, blaster fire opening to shred them to pieces before they could be surrounded. Every individual began to hop out at this point, not wanting to become cornered by the creatures most likely. Drawing his short sword from it's sheathe, the Sith Acolyte would charge out into battle, sticking with the sword users. The blaster fire around them was less random, being concentrated on the ones that approached rather than the ones that had passed.
Flicking his arm back and forth, the teen would have his weapon carve into the flesh of the assumingly previous ship crew. The shining metal of his sword would easily slide through their clothing, usually along their neck to sever the head. It seemed that stabbing their hearts and removing the brain were the only ways to kill them. Facing back to back, the many sword users would continue to push forward and out, eventually driving the current wave of beasts away temporarily. Blood covered Ballen-Ist's clothing and blade, as he stood around, awaiting orders hopefully.
[member="Captain Larraq"] [member="Maleus"]
 
Devoid moans of enigmatic origin bombarded the inner hull, from within the sterile docking bay lay scorch marks, a clear indication of a previous scuffle. His gloved hand descended onto it's metallic surface, he'd pinch his fore-fingers together, as he collected the obsidian-esqe marks he rub his fingers together to test for consistency. Then to confirm his suspicions he'd dangle his digits across his nose, there was no mistaking the faint odor of ozone which was depleted whenever blasters were fired. His metallic hand traced the curve of his back until he came across his trusty pike which he carried everywhere. With said pike in tote he'd slam his hand against the encompassing air-lock bulkheads which opened to release the smell of carrion. Taken aback by this he,d stumble backwards. "This scent is putrid, what th-" His words were interrupted by a slight jarring which took place on the side of peripherals. Skillfully he turned on his instep while driving his blade in the direction of where he turned, the ninety degree angle was enough to leverage enough momentum to lodge the point of the pike into the skull of a stray zombie. By motioning his blade down he was able to drag his knee upwards to smash the zombie off of his metallic projectile. The black tar that sullied his weapon angered him. "DAMN IT!" More rushed in to finish the job, he'd extend his hands on either side of his body allowing a drawing in of his essence, he'd intermix the vitality of his being with the force. This in turn gave him a -slightly- higher edge in terms of speed. "Here we go.." Two ornate sheathes dangled from the manifolds of his clothing, the daggers were painted in the floral-esuqe crimson the Zabrkian were infamous for. A series of aggressive slashes were made, his strikes followed the incline of these decayed sod's jaw-bones which came off easily enough. With their mouths disabled, the next priority were their hands. He'd skillfully weave his body in and out of harms way until he was an opening.

"... This isn't what I signed up for.."
Ballen-Ist
 
Eventually, the battling in the hanger would end, the typical mercenaries and above-average warriors heading out to explore the large starship. Completing certain objectives that had been listed by the Employer offered bonus rewards, such as a larger sum of credits or choice weapons and equipment. At the moment, Ballen-Ist did not exactly care for the extra rewards. He simply wanted his standard wage, seeing as he was going order-less at the moment. Watching most of the fighters run off, the young Sith pureblood would hang behind, noticing [member="Maleus"] and the pile of bodies around him. The two were similiar, in the fact that both were alone at the moment. Thinking back to the mission posting, a team of two was required in order to survive the deeper sections of the ship. No doubt, more of these creatures would come eventually. Walking across the bloodied hangar floor, Ballen-Ist would sheathe his soaked short sword, it sliding into the holster with ease as he approached the Zabrak.
"Greetings...I propose a partnership." He would mutter quietly beneath the clothing that draped his body, his voice sounding faint do to the cloth that wrapped around his mouth. Other than that, a large hood hung over his head, concealing the upper-half of his head, masking his identity successfully. The hood would be attached to a large black cloak, which would drape around his entire body, concealing his figure.
 
Frowned as his enemies demise proved to be lack-luster, dismembered heads and de-limbed appendages littered the ship. Even so, not one of them put up a good fight. His attention was averted by the somewhat tamed voice which seemed altogether effeminate. He'd chuckle as he revolved on the balls of his feet to see the male that stood before him. "Oh, I do enjoy team-work." He'd mouth sarcastically. "Though, in this case I think that would be the most logical course of action." With that he'd give Ballen-Ist, a subtle nod indicating he was ready to continue on their trek. Yes, indeed his mouth began to salivate as to what could be found inside of the various catacombs of this vessel.
 
A scowl crept across the Sith's face as he watched [member="Maleus"]' response, the man's insolence beginning to annoy him. The chuckle the Zabrak emitted angered Ballen-Ist very much, the man's latter comment only fueling the fire that was the Sith's patience. Remaining silent, the dark cloaked teenager would simply turn from the older Zabrak, stepping over the dead bodies and heading towards the far off blast doors. They would need to be pried open, but it seemed like they already had been. Many people had made it through the ship, already exploring it's deepest points probably. What a bother. All of this flowed through his mind as he walked, ignoring anything the annoying Zabrak might say. Ballen-Ist's black cloak would flap in the air as his stride turned into a job, eventually breaking out into a full on sprint down the dark hall ways of the abandoned ship. The metal clank of his boots against the floor was all he heard as he ran, his nose being overwhelmed by the smell of death. Dead bodies lay around the corridor they travelled down, apparently someone had already been this way. Who would he stumble upon?
 
[member="Ballen-Ist"] Did not seem to have a sense of humor, and while he could tell the lad was angered his indifferent attitude was enough to convince him he was just naturally irritable. He followed pace with the disguised pure-blood, as their gaits became more deliberate, the sense of urgency and importance at the task of hand was also elevated. The slight burn that afflicted his calf's would be remedied by their short break, he could tell by the bodies that seemingly sprawled into infinity that something, or someone had been killing them in great numbers. "Th f-" A being comprised of fused tissue and hardened bone lunge at the duo. Maleus forced himself into a low stance in order to avoid it's blow, while now on his knees he'd roll with his momentum which carried him a few feet away. While the beasts back was still turned his jammed his pike into one of it's legs. The beast forced it's leg upwards towards the base of the ceiling which Maleus would be carried into, the force of the impact caused him to lose his balance for a bit and he was able to recover quickly. "A little help?"
 
The Zabrak being lifted into the air was quite the sight. An amusing one, at least. Leapign to the side, the boy would press his back against the wall of the hallway as the beast appeared, it charging past him and directly at Maleus. Turning his head, Ballen-Ist would quickly draw his short sword, it's thick, sturdy metal material scrapping against the sheathe as it was un-holstered. The long, sharp pike that Maleus wielded would be sent forward, stabbing into the strange, mutated zombie like creature. It would lift it's leg, pulling the Zabrak off of his feet, only briefly. That is when the Sith acted, leaping from the shadows with his shining blade, his arm swiping across the air in an upwards slash, darting past the creature in order to get a good aim at it's head with his overhead attack. The blade that had swung up into the air would attempt to slice into the creature's head, splitting it down to it's neck if successful. Landing swiftly, the boy's figure would be covered by his cloak once more, as he sheathed his stained blade.
 
The behemoths head seemed weightless as it was cleanly severed from it's shoulders. A fountain of black mist seeped it's neck as it began to writhe on the ground. Ballen-Ist's movements seemed to be all but a blur. His speed was definitely one of the things that put him on par with most of the people who he had met in his short journey. As the young Sith placed the sword back into it's respective cover Maleus casually observers the man who stood before him. "Your moves, not many people know how to move like that. You're much too moody to be a Jedi, but perhaps you're just a really good Merc." It was evident that Maleus was attempting to construct a imaginary profile of whom this man that stood before him really was. But before he could consider it any longer he remembered where they were. He could not afford to become lackadaisical just because of this strange man. He would have time to think later, for now they had to act. "Let's keep moving.."
 
"Agreed, you don't hear me assessing you, do you?" He would question, turning from the bloody corpse and [member="Maleus"] to continue his way down the hallway. "Don't lose that pike, it's your best weapon in these conditions." He would say, it being the last thing he spoke to the Zabrak as they ventured through-out the dark corridors. Heading deeper into the vessel seemed like a bad idea at first, but who knew what they might find? It was also some pretty good training. The young Sith's pure blood was boiling at this point, enjoying the thrill of the hunt. It was strange, however, for it seemed as if the usual positions had been switched. Were they the hunters, or the hunted? Breaking into a sprint, the teen's boots would thud consistantly against the ground as he aimed to cover large amounts of distance in short periods. He did not like the idea of walking around slowly. It seemed only a few new creatures had appeared in this area, the regular hordes already being slain by someone, or something.
 
Nolan pushed forth along with his brother [member="Kable Detta"]. The creatures were becoming more prevalent the deeper into the interior of the ship they went. And the uglier. Nolan peeked around a corner to witness a creature dragging a dead vod into a room labeled Laboratory. He edged closer to where an observation room was perched above a surgery room. The creatures were pilling dead in the corner and a less dead looking humanoid stood over a merc from [member="Captain Larraq"]'s teams. The dead merc twitched as the humanoid worked with its body until he injected it with a syringe then the body convulsed, writhed and awoke as one of the walking dead, pustules began to form on its body and its bones broke to form the grotesque form like the others.

Under his breath, Nolan spoke to the whole team, Looks like Kable and I found the epicenter. Someone is alive, well kinda, and it's turning the dead into those things.
 
Aedan Miles steps off of a transport rolling his shoulders as the young man looked around with him was a small squads worth of heavily armed and dangerous droid guards. Hell odds were that he wasn't supposed to show up but the young man was bored. With a shrug he took off jogging down a hallway as he searched out a familiar presence that he could half sense. [member="Nolan Detta "][member="Kable Detta"]

As he jogged he came across what appeared to be zombies. With a sound of disgust that brought the creatures shambling towards him Aedan's weapons ignited with a snaphiss and he flicked it up violently cutting a zombie in half as he used the force to send two others flying. Spinning away as a zombie bit a thin air only to find driods unloading upon the rest of them Aedan started to move again the droids stomping after him the zombies left a pulped mess. His eyes gleamed dully as he looked around himself trying to figure out where the two Detta brothers had gone.
 
Kable turned the T-Visor of his helmet towards his brother and shook his head <We gotta stop that thing from making more of these freaks.>

He looked down at his rifle and saw the blinking red light alerting him that his power pack was low. <....and we might have to do it the old fashioned way...I'm almost out of ammo...>

Nolan Detta [member="Aedan Miles"]
 
Nolan nodded and checked to see that he had 5 shells left, but still had his pistol. He Looked to his brothers back hoping to see a Beskad, We could just get down and dirty?

Nolan slid to the edge of the room near a door that lead down to the room. He poked his head through the door and noticed a generator sitting in the corner of the O.R. He blinked it to Kable on his HUD highlighting it on the map.

Nolan waved for Kable to follow and stay low.

[member="Kable Detta"]
 
"Gravity field disengaged." Was the next thing he heard which came blaring out of the intercom. Corpses danced eerily through the corridor that the duo had approached. Their platted boots repelled off the walls which accelerated their forms into the next room. A mirage of light proceeded to illuminate the silo, as if on cue the corpses spurned from their slumber.

"Ehhhhhhhhh"

The fallen had been reduced to moans as their hunger began to physically pain their rotten forms. Soon the two found themselves in battle yet again. Having tugged on his steel rod it's metallic frame would come to life. The audible vibrato of metal being unsheathed from it's scabbard was indeed music to his ears. He'd spin the pole end to end on the base of his fingertips. The base of which caught the zombie closest to his person off guard. The blunt force trauma caused it's skull to give way, brains seeped from it's ears as it fell back into placidity.

[member="Ballen-Ist"] , "Here they come.."
 
No mercy would be shown to the mindless creatures that were assumingly once sentient. Now, they were nothing more than husks of flesh, shadows of their previous beings. These creatures that were savage had no potential, living only to attack, and to be attacked. If the beasts wanted to hunt, they would be hunted in turn. Drawing the short chalon crafted blade, the teenager would lift it towards the crowd of zombies that charged towards their position. Quickly back pedalling, the boy would draw the zombies closer to him, forcing them to run as he did backwards. With this, he would begin to cleave swiftly at their numbers, one by one dropping as they continued to attempt their advancement on them. They were primitive, and predictable, allowing a quick and easy solution for their demise. After a minute or two, the beasts were dead, their blood flowing onto the ground to form a large puddle. "Let's continue, someone has already been this way." He would speak, walking forward ahead of @Maleus.

The trail of un-dead led the duo to a hall way, the word Labratory plastered along the wall, an arrow beside it that pointed in the direction they were heading. Taking cover quickly, he would look down the corridor, spotting some creatures walking back and forth. Though, there was one that stood out, simply examining a corpse, before kneeling down to touch it, apparently. On the other side of the room, further down the next hall, the Sith was able to spot @Nolan Detta, along with another Mandalorian who happened to be [member="Kable Detta"]. Giving the two a wave, he would aim to make his presence clear, hoping the two wouldn't do anything too drastic that would get him injured. He planned to work alongside the duo, if they were able to communicate.
 

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