Lunar Accords: An Ancient Despair (Primeval)

[Zambrano the Starweird]

"This is getting ridiculous..." You know things have hit the fan, when the man everyone's been calling insane has uttered those words with serious disdain. If he had eyebrows, they would have risen above those seemingly damaged eyes as he felt the tremors of battle in the sewers, the summoning of large beasts and the subsequent breaking of their brain stems, all the while an assassin tried to bicycle kick his main enemy. The use of the word "sides" seemed to break down totally, and it appeared everyone was essentially on their own side.

"What in the nine hells is even going on anymore?" Warlord Ba'jurir muttered as she hid behind cover, near to where Kahdri Ughad had jogged to. Her men prepared to guard her life, held blaster and projectile rifles out, prepared to shoot but unsure of who was even safe to shoot. One of them pointed and almost shot Kahdri, before an outstretched hand steadied them. "Not that one." She said simply, awaiting a response to her inquiry on the asinine scenario playing out before them. How long had this meeting taken to break down totally? 20 minutes? 10? Did it matter when it was only a matter of time anyway? "You here to help or what?"

Meanwhile, Warlord Balac had his weapons drawn and had already pulled several shots off on the huge summoned beast when it... promptly died from unknown cause. His weapons then redirected to Catalys, the Assassin, and the "Darth" he supposed who were not in cover in the open space of the central theatre. His weapons did not discharge, unsure of where to place them. To resolve this uncertainty the Ubese searched for the one true figure in the room he absolutely could not stand... the Warlord of Echoy'la. That could be his world, all he need do was take it from her cold dead hands. He kept a good focus one the force users however... they were becoming troublesome.

The Ewok walked up to the Host Lord's podium without much resistance or effort, his casual graces ironic in the face of his appearance, amidst this fray of what was supposed to be "civilized" folk. How is it that the least primitive seeming creature in the room, was in fact a shamanistic anthropomorphic teddy bear with a penchant for bloodshed... standing next to a half-dead gastropod responsible for the death and postmortem mutilation of millions of people. The question was simple, the oldest question man ever asked. It was all too casual for the mayhem that had erupted in the melodrama.

"My heart." The Host Lord spoke simply in turn, leaning slightly so as to make sure the Ewok would hear, simplifying the true nature of the thing he held within his grasp. An awkward silence filled the void between them momentarily, before the Hutt spoke again. "I think it best I leave this mess now, I've business on the Gulandi world. I've spoken my turn... would you care to follow?" In an almost unexpected manner, the Host Lord spoke and acted in a most polite manner to the furry Sith Lord that stood beside him. It was not the first time the Hutt displayed the capabilities to be polite... one time, he quieted down at the request of a sleepy student while he murdered the rest of her class. Nice girl, only got to choke her once.

As the serpent began to make his slithering circle around, and as his remaining Shade turned to follow him... one was left wondering if Catalys would follow or not... and what would become of this strange conflict? Slugs were slow though, so it may take enough time for us to find out those answers soon enough.

 

[Auswyn Nothrael]

While what used to be a glorious Host became little better than a rabbling Horde, while Loxa tended to a steadily ballooning belly, Auswyn did much better than getting herself flipped and filled (or mining her facial cavities for nuggets - which, it must be said, hadn't been done since she was a child; oh wipe that disgust off your face! Every child does it!), as much as she really enjoyed that. Really, really... and perhaps too much, according to some opinions, so she still did it, but used each opportunity as an experiment, each body she derived pleasure from as a test subject for her explorations of what she could and couldn't do with the power that bent to her will and was always at her beck and call. She had been running on the fuel of inspiration ever since that heathen tried to wring her neck dry of air on Wayland, and that fuel drove the defilement and violation of so. much. flesh. for the sake of her own wicked ends.

Suffice to say, she had ideas for what she could do, and had gotten faster, more brutal, and exacting in getting others to believe what she wanted them to. That in a moment's 'touch', she could have one that appeared healthy on the outside writhing from anything she desired (there had been much research into that!) though reliving a horror was always more potent. The same heathen that attempted to crush her windpipe was her very first test subject. A lesson in keeping his thoughts to himself, perhaps? She hoped to teach him more, someday... and would pray he died from the encounter.

That was the rage of vengeance going into her actions as she worked her way through dissenters, musing on what use she could possibly make of fear.

​

[member="Darth Pikiran"] | [member="Dresden Verbrennung"] | [member="Lord Ajihad"] | [member="Zambrano the Hutt"] | [member="Warok the Defiler"] | [member="Kadri Ughad"] | [member="Bloodknight"] | [member="Laguz Vald"] (Who are you calling a hussy, twunt?) | [member="Delekhan"]​

 

[Isar]

"Oh," said the Ewok.

A being without a heart. Alive, yet dead. Warok was well familiar with such a woeful state of resurrection, but better a soulless dog than a dead king.

In answer to the giant slug, Warok began to pad along beside him, paws clasped behind his back in a semblance of austerity while the world around them churned to the steady chorus of guttural screams and clash of war. He had not taken a side in this conflict. Not yet. Although he might be persuaded with the right offer. In truth, the fools at each others throats back there seemed to ill-grasp the nature of their own leverage. They'd sooner burn the grain with the chaff than take the time to separate meat from bone. Everything in nature has its place, but they had failed to learn theirs.

The moment Catalys declared for Host Lord two sides had formed. And despite these lesser warlords actions tonight, there would still only be two real sides. When two boar-wolves tumble in the brush, better to let them be than see yourself the source of sudden reconcilement.

A soldier flew past and slammed into a wall, body broken by the Gorax's club. Suddenly, the Gorax itself collapsed, crushing a squad of guards beneath its massive bulk. Warok sighed.

Odd that the being felt no malice for the burning of the staff, but perhaps it too bided its time. A game of waiting, then.

"If the Great Spirits came to you, ready to grant any wish, for what would you ask?"

[member="Zambrano the Hutt"] | [member="Catalys Maijora"]

 

[Laguz Vald]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BKDslK2dT0I​

Oh, kark me.

There was a sharp clap just before xe depressed the trigger completely, and all Laguz could do was watch, gnashing xir teeth against that annoying feeling of helplessness. [member="Catalys Maijora"] had put a plan B in place, it seemed, except that the plan B had been hasty and sloppy to boot, and ruined the shifter's perfect shot.

Resolving to have a word about it with the Exemplar later – for they were both otherwise occupied at the moment – the merc calmly adjusted xir aim by a few fractions, training the crosshairs on the rising man. For a breath, Laguz pondered sending the next pellet into the back of his neck, severing the brain stem and ending his life in the briefest of instants… then decided that the shot would be slightly too reliant on luck in the given circumstances. Sure, xe had more than a century of regular practice to back up xir skills, tripod support, a steady hand, a hair trigger, an advanced scope with a HUD… but the brain stem, at this range, would be incredibly difficult to hit, owing to its negigible size.

No, Laguz would opt for a lower target this time; the back of the knee – the popliteal fossa – beautifully exposed as [member="Darth Pikiran"] began to stand up. The pellet, small as it was, would be accelerated to breakneck speeds within the coils of xir rifle, and when that piece of metal ripped through the warrior's flesh, the end results wouldn't be pretty. The best xir target could hope for was a couple of shredded tendons; at worst, his whole joint would explode into a bloody mess of bone shards, muscle, and fat.

No time to waste.

With xir perception stretched out to infinity and seconds trickling by like a thick, golden syrup, xir whole thought process had taken place before xir target had even straightened to his full height, and by the time the other sniper was being rapidly reduced to smithereens and ash, Laguz had already squeezed the trigger for the second time.

You see, Verpine shatter guns are not only quiet, but also lack any sort of muzzle flash by virtue of being powered by gravity coils instead of your run-of-the-mill explosion. Unfortunate, that xir target and his AI would be so distracted by the lesser danger, but Laguz wasn't about to look a gift bantha in the mouth.

In the end, plan B had worked out quite well for xem indeed.

[member="Lord Ajihad"] | [member="Zambrano the Hutt"] | [member="Dresden Verbrennung"] | [member="Warok the Defiler"] | [member="Auswyn Nothrael"] (But you posted, didn't you, hussy? ) | [member="Kadri Ughad"] | [member="Bloodknight"] | [member="Delekhan"]​

 

[Dresden Verbrennung]

There were three primary plans of attack specified in the contract.

The first was to infiltrate the meeting, mine the exits, kill the power, and wait. This plan relied heavily on stealth. Despite their preference for blowing things up, a short company of sappers can be surprisingly low key when they want. Skulking through the darkness and evading sentries might not have been as satisfying as a fireball the size of a Coruscanti skyscraper, but it had its perks. That got blown to hell when an enemy fighter more or less just happened to be in the right place at the right time.

The second and third plans were basically the same thing; the difference was a matter of degrees. In the event the first plan was compromised, outright stealth was out of the picture. They were to make their way to the target building as quickly as possible and prepare to do one of two things: use a controlled explosion to create a distraction, or just drop the thing.

Of the two, the controlled part was actually the hardest. Most people think demolition is all about stuffing a place with a bunch of boom boom and lighting the candle. In reality, it's a complex art that requires the utmost precision. Most buildings of a certain size were designed to be resistant to large, sudden shocks, like, say, earthquakes. In this day and age, if you wanted to make a building shake like a bowlful of jelly, you had to take out the dampers without actually dropping the thing. That was difficult indeed.

On the other hand, a controlled implosion still required the dampers to be taken out, but one didn't have to be quite so precise. It really was just a difference of degree.

"And with ample patience and saliva, the bantha deflowered the flitnat," Dresden muttered to himself.

At the moment, his men were prepping for plan 2, on the assumption that they could always switch to 3 if needed. Three squads were doing the prep work, while another three had men with heavy weapons and mines posted up on all the potential approaches. They had no illusions about being able to hold the base of the building against all comers, but they could at least give the others some warning. If someone did try to force their way in, the plan was to just stuff the explosives wherever they'd fit and blow the whole fucking thing down.

The seismic sensors were picking up some pretty heavy activity from above. The mercenary didn't want to joggle his boss's elbow, but on the other hand, the guy was paying them. He was fucking this duck, the mercs were just there to hold the wings. He picked up the commlink and keyed a very specific frequency, hoping the others hadn't started putting in detonators yet.

::Two or three?"

[member="Catalys Maijora"]

 

[Matreya]

(I looked originally at the sniper you picked. It says slug. But when you read the description it says scatter. So I was confused...not so much now. Apologies!)

The Force once again warned that something was off, thus while he fought for balance, he threw up a Shield once again. Then, when the bullet struck it had slowed enough to pierce the armor, getting stuck in his leg.

But, holding a hand before the back of his knee, it summoned the bullet, and with a wave of the hand healed the wound it had been encased in. Darkside healing, as it was a type of molecular control, came second to him only to cqc and mentalism. It was a talent he had used many times, once to save a man from death long enough to get to a bacta tank.

With the bullet done with, he examined it for the briefest second, then dropped in his pocket. His attacker would have left trace markers on the pellet, perfect for differentiation from other would be assassins. Turning, he threw his Cloak about himself, vanishing from detection. Passing by the war like zone, he exited the building, then headed for a far off point where he would get picked up by his ship - so that the assassin would not see his location.

[member="Laguz Vald"]
(Again, my apologies. In haste to reply I didn't read well enough! Just continue pretending the ship never attacked.)

 

[Laguz Vald]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4gDch1p4c_M​

Curious. Perhaps the man xe was shooting at was a master of Vongsense? But even the, Laguz was not Vong. Xe was simply… absent from the Force. A plant-shaped hole sprawled about a click away in some foliage, with only a quiet and deadly sniper rifle to keep xem company; and technology, likewise, did not communicate its lethal intentions through the currents of the Force. Certainly, the merc was no Jedi – nor was xe Sith, or a member of any other of the myriad of cults – but xe'd been hunting their sort for a good long while now, and knew a bit or two about it.

Filing the information away for later, Laguz readjusted xir aim – again – and would have grinned like a maniac possessed, if xe'd bothered to put teeth and a mouth on xir shrubbery disguise. Since xe hadn't, the smirk remained in xir mind, and as [member="Darth Pikiran"] leaned down to do… something to his knee, the shifter fired off two more shots; one to the back of the other knee, and the second one to the back of his neck. Quick reflexes, a hair trigger, and a syrupy perception of time were a sniper's best friends, indeed.

Now, unfortunately for xir target, the merc had remained just as Force-dead throughout this shooting exercise as xe'd been for years, and with nothing to disturb the Force and give him the warning, Laguz's mark was in the unfortunate position of being oblivious to what was coming.


[I'd rather roll with it than retcon; see my last post about the ship's attack.]

 

[Ughad]

(muh verdana is gone. We did it Chaos)


[member="Zambrano the Hutt"]


"I believe that you could say that, yes. I'll see to it personally that you get enough equipment and supplies to fight this war, by my side or not. You'll get that heretic's head on a silver platter before this war is over. We cannot let millions die in vain."


The old Umbaran stayed low, his guards were ordered to hold their fire until an actual threat presented itself to Kadri's life. Something which seemed nonexistent now. He had tricked the hutt, or so he thought. Had the Hutt been so far along in his twisted game that he could read the minds of those around him?


"Come, I know another passage through the Northeastern hall. We can make an escape through there. These sith and warmongers are far too powerful together. Let them find enemies among themselves."

 

[Talos Rygat]

[member="Zambrano the Hutt"]

A whirlwind of green light appeared out of almost nowhere, tiny spectral leaves fluttered in the torrent as the light grew in strength. As it began to reach its peak rotary speed, the whirlwind gave way to a figure in all black. The leaves turned to skulls and swarmed the being as if called into his center. As the light faded away, Talos looked out and witnessed a building in front of him, its doors opened with Primeval guards at their stations. A summit of warlords had been called for the future of the Primes was at stake.

Having been on hiatus, struggling to control the spirits within him, Talos returned now to aid his Host Lord. Walking the steps inside, to where the meeting was being held, Talos took one look to realize everything wasn't as he'd expected it.

"What is going on?"

 

[Zambrano the Starweird]

"I would ask for a quieter heart." The gargantuan dread slug rumbled to the philosophically pondering Ewok [member="Warok the Defiler"].... it was clear from the intonation of his voice, that he really meant a silent heart... he wished for death to take him. How appropriate the a "Host Lord" of Balagoth would ask for death if given the chance... and up until now, such a possibility was barred from him... but now, he held his screaming heart locked to the magickal binding of an entire slaughtered species by the power of his presence in the force (now ripped from him into the artifact). If ever there was a time to shatter his soul into oblivion... now was the time. As the Hutt began to slither towards a pseudo-organic orb, a familiar form materialized near him, [member="Talos Rygat"] in a state of questioning.

"I have done, what I came to do. Dantooine burns, Mirial bleeds, and Anirc shall cut. The hydra-head of the Primeval faith has been severed this day with my presence... the Great Change has commenced... now all will be open to the Unseen Rift. All will know Balagoth. At last, I shall see him, and be wed to my dead love." Those milky blue eyes could almost see the ghostly form of [member="Mishk"]... but it was merely delusion... it was always delusion.

​

--------​

As Zambrano prepared to leave the world, chaos continued within the meeting place. Meanwhile Warlord Ba'jurir, and her new companion began to make their escape. Her men guarded [member="Kadri Ughad"] as well, though to a lesser extent to than they did for the Protector of Echoy'la'yaim. They wanted no part of this conflict, but they wanted Zambrano the Hutt dead. The Warlord of Wayland though, would not be so easily evaded... he was a Mandalorian... and he could smell his own kind if forced to. Using the cover of stealth, he maneuvered around the Chaos as something began to happen. Those strange walking corpses slaughtered on Mirial... they began to appear at the exits and windows. That could only mean one thing: they were about to fill the room and attack. Not knowing their capabilities, he opted to tail the Warlord of Echoy'la and her new compatriot.

[member="Catalys Maijora"], [member="Auswyn Nothrael"], [member="Laguz Vald"], [member="Darth Pikiran"], [member="Lord Ajihad"]