Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Private First Impressions, Bad Impressions

Taramaz Arcturus

Guest

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I N V E S T I G A T E
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Location: Naboo – Varykino Estate - Backyard Forests
Time: 1130 Hours
Equipment: Fangs of Death, Sean-Olc Robes
Tags: | Nuraya |

The leaves upon the pine trees rustled, a gentle breeze rolling in from the lake. The Midday Sun shone down from above, the canopy above blocking out some of it's brightness, but not it's gentle warmth. The forest floor illuminated with a gentle glow as birds chirped from the branches above.

It was a beautiful scene; Nature in all it's beauty.

Taramaz had truly been fortunate to be given ownership of the Varykino Estate, after being left abandoned and dormant for so long. In the short time he had been in possession of it, he had set to hiring a carefully selected caretaking crew who had so diligently cleaned up the manor itself.

In so short a while, the manor had been transformed to an exquisite estate worthy of the royalty it had once hosted.

Now, though? Now, it played host to the Arcturus Family, serving as their home. Even if it wasn't Baleron of legend, it was most pleasant either way. Besides... Baleron would be theirs once again. Given time.

But on the present day... The Patriarch of the Arcturus Family found himself strolling through the Woodlands on the far side of the Island.

Strange feelings had plagued the man of late. The feeling one got when they were being watched, visions of conflict in the near future clung to his dreams like a disease. Doors were left open when he knew them to be closed. All signs that Taramaz did not like.

Nobody who plotted to assassinate him would do so if they did not think that they were incapable of performing the deed.

And though the possibility of being assassinated loomed on the horizon, Taramaz' schedule did not change. He was more cautious, perhaps, but he did not go out of his way to make it obvious. Clearly he was dealing with no professional assassin if they left such obvious clues as open doors. Or perhaps they wanted him to know of their presence. Either way, he held the advantage. His newest lightsabers hung from his belt.

He wore the traditional raiment of his people, of the Sean-Olc upper-class. The robes were purposefully ambiguous and bland, so that when the Nobility came to meet, intimidation and status played no part in the proceedings. Yet, they were edged with a particular shining metal. There was no doubt, it was Obsidian. One of the sharpest metals in the galaxy, worn so easily. It ran in a pattern up the front of the black leather boots, giving structure to the robes.

He, clad in his black attire, was certainly a far shot from what one might expect to see in such a peaceful place. But yet... he was there. Knelt upon a rock facing out toward the great Lake Country, head downcast and hands upon his knees. And so he entered into a state of meditation. His senses heightened as he connected his mind with the Force. To the uneducated, he was an ideal target. Paying no heed to his surroundings, defenseless.

There was no doubt in his mind that the Assassin would appear. It was simply the perfect situation.

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Nuraya

Guest

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A S S A S S I N A T E
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My debt will be paid.

Perhaps it could be said that we all incur a debt upon birth. The pain and anguish we wrought upon the goddess of our creation seems a cruel way to greet her for the first time, and for that, we all owe her a debt. I used to lie in bed awake and wish that was the extent of what I owed. Some nights I still do.

But no, my debt is so much greater.

I had to rend her life from this plane when I was born, replacing it with my own in terrible flames. I dream of screaming sometimes. Maybe it's mine, maybe hers. I don't know. Either way, until that debt has been paid to my father, I will continue to collect offerings to lay at his feet. Until the entire galaxy belongs to him, I can't rest.

Taramaz was my target.

I grimaced as I crouched in my hiding spot, my gaze fixed upon the figure. I could hear father's voice in the back of my mind, even as I closed my eyes paused to focus and center myself.

You're too brash, Nuaraya, too hasty. Patience, study, these are your tools.

A soft breath exhaled from my lungs as my eyes opened, that sigh taking all the doubt and memories with it. They were no help now, they were the past. The present was me, was him, kneeling upon the rock, likely in meditation.

It was almost too perfect.

A tiny smile crept onto my lips as I felt my heart begin to race. I broke my focus for just a moment to stifle a moan into silence as my racing heart coaxed a wave of pure heat to roll over me. The fire was hungry, it yearned to consume, and I in turn yearned to feed it. My steps were small at first, as tiny and silent as I could manage. Slowly, the distance between us closed; 40 feet... 35 feet... 30 feet...

My heart was in my throat now, my head spinning and my breaths almost barely daring to pass through my lips at all. My entire being seemed suspended in anticipation as I crept up behind him; 25 feet... 20 feet...

Close enough.

It was here that I struck; planting both feet into the ground and calling upon all the pent up energy around me. Even deep in meditation, he would surely feel the disturbance in the force; the distinct swirl of darkside energy directly behind him. My intention was to send a powerful bolt of flame directly towards him before he had a chance to react.​
 

Taramaz Arcturus

Guest

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I N V E S T I G A T E
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Location: Naboo – Varykino Estate - Backyard Forests
Time: 1130 Hours
Equipment: Fangs of Death, Sean-Olc Robes
Tags: | Nuraya |

It was a new smell on the breeze, one that was once unmoving, but now moving closer. Without sound.

Then it was an all-too familiar presence.

The Dark Side. The Unrestrained Ruthlessness of the Force.

Though, more specifically, it was a burning flame. To anybody else, nothing was happening, but Taramaz knew that smell. The air igniting slowly as the Force was called upon to burn all in it's path. It was an ability known as Force Pyrokinesis. Something very familiar to him.

Not an adept at it's use, either. Clearly, it was the main weapon of the assassin, one that they had trained harshly with. It could use improvement, but he doubted it would be much use trying to teach his would be killer.

As the fire ignited the space between Uncle and Niece, the meditating man's leg shot out behind him, his other springing up. He pushed high off the ground, dust lifting from the rock as he jumped over the fire bolt. His boots slid to either side of him, landing with a quiet grunt. He lowered his form into an on-guard stance. His hands raised up infront of him as if he was about to engage in unarmed combat.

The fingers of his left hand worked, as the fire bolt slowed behind him, turning and hurling itself back at it's creator. Picking up speed as it flew, the bolt headed directly for the Fire Princess's chest and neck. It would be a hard attack to dodge without throwing herself suddenly to either side. Taramaz' hands then upturned themselves, raising slowly upwards as flame sparked forth, shooting to the ground and spreading into a burning ring of fire around Nuraya.

The flames roared up, forming a wall that would begin to close in on her. Soon, it would begin to lick up her body, aiming to engulf her if left unchecked. The Uncle took no time, however, and his hands were once again working, this time as if holding something. The fire seemed to develop hands of it's own, grabbing and grasping at the girl's wrists, their touch freezing cold rather than burning hot.

If the fire was successful in it's grabbing, Nuraya would soon find herself brought to her knees on the dirt. She would then be dragged forward until she was but a few feet from her Uncle, kneeling.

The fire was every bit controlled, defying it's primal nature. It left no embers smouldering, it was as if it had simply... glided over everything that was not the Uncle's Niece.

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Nuraya

Guest

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O B J E C T I V E
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I gasped.

My target reacted far too quickly for someone deep in a meditative trance. All at once I felt the sharp pang of regret as I realised my mistake, my eyes briefly darting about me as I finally saw the walls of the trap, and watched them snap shut. But I couldn't stay in that mote of regret, as the man landed before me, outstretching his own hands to take control of the hurtling flame.

I scowled, my brow furrowing, as he curved my fire around and brought it back to me. But rather than attempt to leap out of the way, I merely braced myself, squaring my feet in the dirt, ready to take the bolt. Apparently, he didn't know as much about me as he thought.

But the strike never came. Instead, the fire dove into the dirt, flashing up into a ring around me. My gaze rose to Taramaz, shaking my head ever so slightly as the flames danced in my gaze. Wrong move. I thought to myself. Maintaining his gaze, I waited for his ring of my fire to engulf me, to prove to him that I was not some mere girl, stumbling and crawling.

But it never did.

Suddenly I yelped as something ice cold wrapped around my wrists, glancing down to see the fire had latched onto me like some burning liquid chain. With a shriek of rage and frustration I was yanked to my knees, my shoulders wrenching back and forth as I fought to pull myself free of the tendrils. With a huff, I forced myself to stop, as I was brought kneeling before the man I'd come to kill.

"What are you waiting for," I hissed, scowling up to him, "You can't keep a princess on her knees. Kill me or free me, as a man or as a coward, I care not. Just let me go."
 

Taramaz Arcturus

Guest

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I N V E S T I G A T E
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Location: Naboo – Varykino Estate - Backyard Forests
Time: 1130 Hours
Equipment: Fangs of Death, Sean-Olc Robes
Tags: | Nuraya |

"I think I shall choose neither."

The man gazed down at her, his hood having fallen back, resting upon his shoulders. Crimson eyes that burnt fiercer than any fire glared at her face, as if scanning it. Taramaz saw a girl. One that bore his brother's resemblance.

A young girl, perhaps, but a girl none the less. A girl who had no business on his island, much less to kill him.

Yet... he could not help but reach out with the Force, inspecting his Niece, only to retract a moment later, as if uninterested. Though it could not be further from the truth, for before him was a girl. Born of human blood, yet basked in the Force. Not as one of the gifted who the Force elects to do it's will... but as an embodiment of it.

It was as if she did not control the flame, but that she was, instead, the flame itself. This struck a chord in the man's memory, his lands lowering, clasped behind his back as the flames kept the assassin bound to the ground. His voice was rough, angered, with only the slightest hint that it was capable of kindness, and soothing.

"
You are a relative of mine, no doubt. A niece, I would say. You bear a strong resemblance to my brother. You may be one of many, yet you find a way to make yourself memorable. In the worst way possible. I'm not entirely sure where you grew up, my dear Niece... but murder is quite illegal in the Confederacy of Independent Systems, on Naboo particularly. When the target is a Lord of the Knights Obsidian, and brother to the Vicelord no less."

He sighed, turned his back, pacing forward to the rock, the flames dragging her along behind him, maintaining the exact same distance at all times, as if the fire carried a tape measure with it.

"I'm quite disappointed, really. Not that you would attempt to kill me. No... familicide is, unfortunately, quite common among families as large and powerful as ours. I'm disappointed, nay, disgraced, that you would call yourself a Princess after attempting to murder me in cold blood, and then have the audacity to think that you would have the right to do anything more than kneel."

He pulled a hand free from behind him, holding it up as a bird of bright colours descended from above, landing upon it. Taramaz held it upon his finger, his other hand raising, as a few seeds rose from the ground, flying up into the open palm of his other hand, held up for the bird to peck at.

"I would first take your name. And I offer you a warning that, should you disrespect me, or struggle, my glove will find your face faster than the bird's beak went to the seed."


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