Glassland Fairytale

[Thrandis Jorin]

(OOC Thread Here: http://starwarsrp.net/topic/118874-glassland-fairytale-ooc/ )

Leaning against the bulkhead, Thrandis slid slowly down the wall into a seated position. His body ached and stung, fresh lacerations and bruises joined the ever expanding legion of marks across his body. He'd done what he had to do, they had weapons, and that made them a risk. Tolerating risk got one killed out here, rather quickly too. The battered man couldn't even will himself to check the ship's hull for food and fresh drink, instead feebly sipping the water from his worn canteen. The lukewarm liquid rolled over his cracked lips and into his dry throat, giving him the smallest bit of relief.

It had been stupid to turn on the beacon. Who was going to answer? The friends and loved ones of the men who's corpses were strewn about outside as well as in the cramped confines of the ship?

He'd expended the last of his ammunition for the slugthrower he'd relied on for ages, he would need to use the arms of his victims in what would undoubtedly be a futile last stand. Once upon a time a last stand was what he'd considered one of the better ways to go out, fighting to the end for a just cause, now it was just a stupid way to die, there were no just causes to him. Not anymore.

Silently he waited, no words came from his tired vocal chords, only a deep, ragged sigh. Perhaps he wouldn't even fight back if they came to kill him. There wasn't much of a point, even if he killed them all and took their ship, where would he go? He couldn't go home, he could never go home. His place was here now, in the whipping dust of the glasslands. Where else could someone like him belong? It was either here, or among the dead.

He'd accepted that a long time ago.

 

[Via Dolorosa]

"Captain, Lady Venefica our sensors are picking up a beacon. The ship's signature is that of a merchant vessel, should I forward the coordinates to the nav officer?"​

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Captain Viter went stiff, knowing his use with the Swamp Witch was on the bubble; knowing his past opinions had panned out against him.​

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"Relax, Captain. Your apprehension smells foul...speak your mind."​

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"We should investigate. Pirate activity in this region has heighten due to all the refugees fleeing from the planets due to the wars. My opinion is we should at least look into this."​

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Her eyes shifted to the Captain of her ship whilst her nails dug into the palms of her hands that rested in marriage behind her back.​

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"Forward the coordinates....I'm interigued!"​

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[member="Thrandis Jorin"]​

 

[Thrandis Jorin]

He simply sat in stillness, screams echoing in his mind, while hellish visions clouded his view. Thrandis pushed them all away, his hand helping left himself up and to his feet. Instantly he staggered, bracing himself against the wall and dragging a dark smudge across the interior. Despite it coming from a gash in his hand, the blood washed away some of the dust clinging to his skin, staining the crimson to a darker brown.

Stumbling forwards over a bulkhead, he drew a makeshift blade from a sheath on his chest. It was nothing special, just a piece of shrapnel with the base wrapped in cloth. If it came from Protectorate ordinance or CIS, he no longer knew. He used to, he used to know that and so much more, but the knowledge hand been lost among the storms of dust and glass.

Reaching the galley, he wretched open cabinet after cabinet with his free hand, opening packet after packet of rich food, not caring how his blood would stain the morsel. It was foolish, once upon a time Thrandis knew that, he'd have known to pace himself, but now he simply vomited. He didn't care, grabbing a packet of cool water he drained it instantly, then cracked another and poured it over his head.

Blood, grime, and dust fell from his battered visage, rolling off of him in beads of water stained black. Even if they killed him, at least he'd have some sort of pleasure, one last time.

[member="Darth Venefica"]