Monarch's Inheritance

[Maranon]

Came to Ossus in: The Lover's Reach (http://starwarsrp.net/topic/143422-the-lovers-reach/)

Wearing: Cabarello Armored Clothes

Armed with: Royal Decree (44. Revolver)

Crown of Katanos (http://starwarsrp.net/topic/143384-crown-of-katanos/)

Thousands of years ago.




The Zeltron smiled as she watched the castle shields sustain heavy fire from her forces cannons. Maranon had found these people of Katanos a people easily bewitched. Found them easily seduced. She loved their longing gazes, how seemlessly they had integrated her into their command structure so seemlessly.

She planned to exterminate them all of course, once she was in power. But for now she adored them, clad in a white ceremonial gown that went down to her ankles and covered her arms, but otherwise hugged her curvy figure. The cold did not bother her, very little physically bothered her anymore. But she was eager all the same for the shield to fall so she could claim this planet for her own.

They said he was mad. The Old King of Katanos Seven had supposedly long ago traded his soul for forbidden knowledge. It probably meant he was an adept of some kind.

Maranon spared a glance for the throngs of white armored soldiers ready to fight and kill in her name. It felt so invigorating, the surge of power, true power. Her armies waited in the old southern plain, clad in pearl white armor, ready to march in the vast ancient castle, whose grounds covered a small cities worth and built in seemingly endless multicolored vertical spires. For another few minutes, the shield stubbornly held, before it collapsed and with an almost careless wave of her hand the order was given to charge.

Maranon, up to this point in her life, had never before ordered an actual attack. It was strange, knowing you were sending people to kill other people. Maranon did not take pleasure in it...but she felt no guilt either.

Everybody Loves Maranon.

The Sith watched from her custom luxury armored red speeder, feeling the despair in every defender as her forces cut them down. She, for her part, ate an apple tart. Katanos's golden apples were splendid this time of year.

Only when her forces met with delay did Maranon grow impatient. She had waited for her throne long enough. She spied with her luxury range finder, crafted from the finest materials that a number of crude tank droids had stymied the advance and had killed half a legion already. Maranon did not mind losses but senseless ones were to be abhored. They had completely halted the frontal advance, their rockets and cannons shredding into white armored soldiers. Maranon, her speeder resting on a hill with trees overlooking the battle below, got out of the vehicle, and closed her eyes.

Nothing would stop her ascent to power, be it flesh or machine.

"Milady? Is something the matter?" called out her servant, a silvery protocol droid.

"Oh, nothing...crushing some cockroaches..." Maranon answered with contempt, closing her eyes, drawing on her greatest asset.

Her connection to the Force had always been swift, focused, and hard to repel as a Jedi Consular. It was even harder to repel as a Sith. Especially when she had the advantage of range, the fabled high ground, or, in this case, both.

It coiled around the heat and cold, and gathered it all into clouds. Bright purple flashes rumbled in a dark blanket across the sky as she held out her hands almost in a supplicating manner. But she was not begging. She was commanding.

Bright, heavy purple bolts came down on the droids, impacting on or around them, shorting them out or igniting their fuel source. This act also took out the soldiers closest to the droids but to Maranon, those were acceptable losses. The lightning came down again and again in a malicious stream, bursting apart each bipedal tank unit and freeing the way for her forces, even though she had cooked some of them.

Enraptured by the power she wielded, Maranon could only stare admiringly at her handiwork as her forces rushed through the great gates in a fierce rainstorm.

Not wanting her coronation gown to get wet, Maranon got back into the speeder with the droid, and popped a bob bon in her mouth before ordering to ferry her to her new castle.

After she made the king step down, of course...



The silver-white ship streaked out of hyperspace close to the peaceful, now ruined world where her formative years had occured.

It was on autopilot, of course. Maranon could not be bothered to fly her own vessel, not in one of her more morose states.

She was clad not in her royal finery...looking at it seemed to be inspiring melancholy as of late...but in more simplistic, black and brown armored civilian garb, loading her prize revolver. All her wealth, all the buildings she owned, and this yacht, a dress, a lightsaber, and this elegantly crafted hand cannon were the only bits of it that mattered.

Her yacht, even thousands of years after its crafting, was still the height of wealth, and taste. Its every interior design choice and furniture designed to convey wealth, power, and status.

And it felt totally, utterly, crushingly barren to her.

She had not been able to enjoy her riches. Or her wealth. She was, in short, not enjoying her second life as much as she thought she would.

Vast stretches of melancholy seemed to hit her, when she was meditating or training. The mind was as sharp as ever. Could still call down the power of the sky and every foul magic...but it could not make her happy.

So she sat, at her table, slowly eating a two credit pasta bowl, rather than the rich banquet she was more than capable of having ordered for her, trying to remember what it was like when she could not buy her way out of her problems.

She wasn't even really sure what she hoped to find here, other than perhaps a reminder.

The more time Maranon had spent resurrected, the more she realized how dangerous this future was. She felt like a woman out of time, felt a crushing lonliness she dared not admit to herself. What would she find? Closure? A new reason to loath Jedi. Clarity of purpose? She would have settled for the last one.

She didn't know at all what awaited her as she calmly ate her breakfast, staring at her revolver...

[member="Thalliesin Bard"]

 

[Thalliesin Bard]

Thalliesin Bard grimaced as Arasha pulled out the seventh and final peice of shrapnel he had obtained during their last battle.

The young Twilek carefully placed the piece of shrapnel by the others on the table. "You wouldn't have to go through this if you would just be more careful out there."

"If I was more careful during the battle on Nar-Shadda you would not be here."

Arasha smiled "That should do it, I'll go see if the others are all right"

Thalliesins Frigate loomed over an asteroid field in search for the source of a distress signal sent out two hours ago.

Theron stood on the bridge leading the search effort. "Ensign report" He said turning to a Bith who just stood from his post.
"Sir...we have located the source of the distress beacon"
"And?"
"Yes, well...It appears to be a small mining station on the other side of a large asteroid to our starboard."
"Very good, then set our course for the station and I will report to Lord Bard."
Just as Theron turned to leave the Bith walked beside him.
"Sir...We have also located a luxury yacht not far to our port"
"Very good, Ensign is there anything else?"
The Bith thought about asking about a complimentary leave for his birthday...but the impatient look on his superiors face changed his mind.
"No Sir"
"Then get back to your post and monitor both the Station and the Yacht until further notice"

"Yub Nub gutta budda" Rekon was standing in Thalliesins infirmary room to check on him.
"Rekon, I see you made it out of the battle unscathed"
Rekon stood up straighter and pounded his chest "Nug ubba wa"

At this point Theron came in and made his report.
"Very good, send this Yacht a transmission asking if they would be willing to assist us"
"Yes my lord"

[member="Maranon"]

 

[Maranon]

Spin, twirl, toss. This was the rhythm Maranon kept her revolver at after cleaning it, getting ever closer to Ossus. It was better than finding yet one more luxury among what were surely trillions now and getting distracted temporarily. If you have had one luxury, you have had them all, a doubting part of her hissed.

The Sith in her wanted to ignore it, to crush it, but after her experience on Zeltros, her birthplace, she could not quite keep up the bravado like she had used to. Not when she realized how alone she was.

Maranon started to hyperventilate as the panic started. The knowledge that it was her own horrid flaws that rendered her barren of comfort made her fall to her knees as she dropped the empty pistol, trying to steady her breath. It was not easy, and she felt her connection to the darkness slip a little before grasping right back on, refusing to question all the personal power she had. It was horribly similar to the situation she had been in when she had still been a consular. No, forget that--it was the same.

What had she done all this for, made that bargain with that blood spirit, if she was going to be put right back at square one? It wasn't fair.

The Dark Side had given her everything, wealth, power, the ability to kill with one's mind...but offering any form of companionship beyond itself seemed an impossible task for it.

It wasn't fair.

Maranon got her breathing under control, at last. But barely. She needed a purpose. Maybe Ossus could point the way.

The ship alert sounded, they had a transmission requesting assistance for aiding a mining station.

A mining station? Out here? Maranon was curious. Curious and in desperate need of distracting from her doubt. She went to the cockpit and answered.

"This is The Lover's Reach. Am ready to comply with request for aid. Heading to the mining station ahead of you. See you there. I'll be the Zeltron with the hand cannon."

Maranon then piloted the large, T-shaped yacht to the destination in question, her sensors picking up the distress signal from the mining station. The Force gave warning, but Maranon had no desire to go for her lightsaber. It depressed her looking at it.

Instead, the former Queen plotted a course, gathering, honing her inner power to ready. Whatever was waiting she would be ready for it.

As she sent a signal to a docking umbilical, Maranon paused at the fact that she was so bored, so hopelessly wayward, that she was helping someone without any self interest.

The mining station was a needle of black surrounded by a ring of metal as her yacht approached the umbilical. Its running lights were still going. She sent a transmission asking for the nature of the distress but there was only silence.

Unafraid, Maranon simply loaded her revolver, took a canister of bullets, and headed to the hatch, moving slowly, not at all with the regal bearing she had once possessed.

The beautiful Zeltron traveled through the attached passage and came to the other end, which was opened by pulling a lever. The Zeltron was greeted to a decontamination chamber with an empty security booth next to it. The Sith kept her gun holstered, stretching, expanding her senses for signs of danger. But there were none. None worth noting. The chamber was open on the other end and Maranon went through it, going down a dank, metallic passage where the sign 'Security' lay in red.

She had to find out what had happened. Why had no one come to meet her? Were things that bad here?

Maranon finally reached the main security hub, a vast office of computer terminals and her eyes widened.

People were encased, obviously quite dead, in growths of clear kyber, attached to walls and ceilings, protruding from their mouths and eyes. Dozens of growths. She snorted. "Typical" she muttered and went to the comms terminal, keying in the frequency of the ship as she lowered the fields to the hangar so [member="Thalliesin Bard"] could dock his ship.

"Captain of the Lover's Reach to unknown vessel. Have arrived at station. Found corpses in crystal growths. Hangar bat fields are lowered. Will meet you there. Out."

Maranon suddenly heard and ungodly shriek from another passage that was enough for her to draw her gun, lacking the confidence to use the Force at the moment but not entirely lacking in the confidence thst this forty four magnum could blow someone's head clean off...

 

[Thalliesin Bard]

Thalliesin Bard, followed by his Vanguard and a squad of thirty assorted species entered into the hangar to see what happened to the people here...and to see if any were left alive.

"Demos...can you sense what caused these crystals?"

The Zabrak reached out into the force "I sense a two great presences in the force one much greater than the other..."

Arasha scanned the ship "It is most likely that one of the presences he's feeling is the captain of that ship Theron hailed. my scanners indicate that besides us there is a group of life forms a few rooms away from us...and towards the center of the mining station it gets fuzzy, like there is something there my scanners can't understand."

"Well then, that makes our course of actions clear...first go to the group left alive then...then we go to the center and find what has caused this calamity.

At that moment several kyber crystals came shooting out of the ground encasing several of the rescuers.

Thalliesin started charging in the direction of the survivors "we need to move NOW"

[member="Maranon"]

 

[Maranon]

Maranon moved very slowly down the passage, her gun arm straight and steady, unlike her confidence, shot after Zeltros. For the old her it wouldn't have even been a question of whether she could dominate this station...it was a question of how quickly.

For the new her however...she kept that gun trained.

She intermittently felt the life forces of [member="Thalliesin Bard"] and his men. The ancient Queen made note of how he felt, a dark commanding one full of fire. She had been such a way, once upon a time...



Darth Maranon led from the front in her white coronation gown, lightsaber in hand. Her soldiers, clad also in white, held the surviving defenders of the city sized castle in rows of captired, bloody prisoners. Stepping stones to her magnificence. She regarded them all with a simple aside glance, smirking as she passed by the rows of captured in the halls of multicolored marble and crystal, and piles of mutilated, burning dead leading up to the throne room. A colonel in a white uniform with a white beret walked up to her.

"Lady Maranon, the king is beyond those doors." The colonel said, pointing.

"Then why is he not already here in front of me? On his knees?" Maranon asked, annoyed. "And can someone get me some damn coffee? When they have a chance?"

"We have sent people to get him before. None returned."

Maranon snorted. "Well, I suppose it would have been unreasonable for the guy in charge not to be a little bit badass." she mused. "Wait here. I'll be back..."

The great doors of the black throne room were carved with reliefs of trees and green gemstones as Maranon forced the doors open with telekinesis. The throne room itself had a sparse, ascetic feel to it that reminded her of a Jedi Meditation Chamber. It was lit by plane, simple globes of crystal burning with a green light. She saw scores of dead soldiers, some of them his defenders, some of them hers. Hers had been savagely torn apart. She saw the king and was actually taken aback.

No one but his closest advisors had ever seen The Old King of Katanos Seven. Not his armies, not his parliament, which she would be demolishing after he was gone, so she would be left purely and solely in control. Certainly not her before this moment, though she had schemed against his rule for months.

He was fourteen feet tall, clad in a long black robe with hood that was topped by a jagged crown. He sat in a custom made throne with a great arch, in his gauntleted right hand lay a great jeweled mace that was as long as he was tall. The throne room was vast, black marble, support pillars arranged in a concentric circle around his great chair.

"So it is you who has come to snatch my kingdom from me..." The Old King spoke, his voice a deep growl that somehow possessed an aristocratic inflection still.

"It's not your kingdom if you cannot hold onto it." Maranon pointed out.

"As long as I wear this crown, I hold it, regardless of your armies."

"Oh come now king, that's just willful ignorance. I've smashed your armies, your last defenders have surren--"

"Are you going to get to the part where you try to kill me?" The Old King of Katanos Seven interrupted tersely. "I hate it when usurpers talk."

"What ARE you, anyway?"

The unnaturally large man rose, and Maranon sensed no darkness or Force in him.

"A sovereign who cares for his people, who you will oppress once he is dead." The King answered. "Tell me...why do you wish to rule?"

"Because I am creating my legacy. A dynasty."

This earned only harsh, bellowing laughter from The King.

"I rule because these people must be protected and guided. You shall not make a good Queen, I think. Your knowledge, vast though it obviously is, is too self centered for it to truly benefit you. Or anyone else, for that matter."

The Zeltron attempted to use her wiles.

"Oh my, Old King, I was deceived! To think I had written you off as some typical blue blood. Perhaps killing you would be too hasty. I would be more than delighted to offer you safe passage off world--"

"A sovereign who cowers and submits is no sovereign." The King snapped, rising and brandishing his ceremonial mace. "Just as a Usurper that spares her predecessor is a fool."

Maranon sighed.

"Oh feth it, you LOOKED cool enough to spare...but if you want to do this the other way..." The Zeltron raised her hands menacingly.

The Old King of Katanos Seven bounded towards her with a speed that shouldn't have been possible, given his size, his gigantic mace raised to crush her skull...



Maranon's senses shook her from the memory as she barely evaded a gigantic kyber erupting from under her feet, an impaled person bursting into gore as they were forced through the puncture hole the kyber had made.

Maranon sensed weaker life forms and though she did not truly care if they survived, she was so indescribably desperate for imput, for different, that the burned out Sith Lord was going to try to help those survivors simply because she had little else to do. So off she went. She sensed a great darkness here, far ahead, and after reaching the center of the mining station, where she saw great tanks of unprocessed ore below, along with a number of mining workers, tied to pillars of translucent kyber growing growing out of dozens of slaughtered people. Maranon cautiously went to them trying to sense what sort of magic was at work here. She had passing familiarity with crystal formation but it was not her preferred field of study. This would change. She looked for magical traps or wards, slinking up to one of the survivors.

"Who did this?" Maranon asked.

"Dark...Jedi..." the survivor got out..."we found something in an asteroid, next thing we know, some ship came by, derelict..."

"The old smuggler trick. Gets 'em every time..." Maranon muttered. "So where is this great and terrible Dark Adept?"

"Central...central machinery operation." The prisoner answered. "They have security fields. He...he hasn't stopped torturing and killing since he got here."

Maranon cocked her gun, using her telekinesis to rip apart his bonds.

"Can you walk?" Maranon asked, this being about as far as her altruism was capable of taking her currently.

The man nodded.

"Then get everyone else untied and run for the emergency access umbilical to my ship. I will deal with your guest" Maranon commanded with The Force, not in the mood to try puppy-eyeing him to do her bidding. The man nodded mindlessly and began undoing the binds of others. Maranon went to inspect the way to central computing, only to find its turbolift access blocked by a white crystal mounted on an iron pedestal, projecting a red tinged field on the turbolift to where she needed to go.

Maranon sighed.

"Fething projection barriers..." she muttered, as she begin to look for flaws in the device...

 

[Thalliesin Bard]

Thalliesin Bard and his Vanguard raced through the halls closely followed by his slowly dwindling forces...

Thalliesin sidestepped and used his mace to smash an incoming kyber crystal.
"We have to find whatever or whoever is causing this terror before my men are annihilated"

Arasha glanced down at her scanners blue glowing screen.
"We are closing in on the first group of lifeforms"

At that moment a cry rang out from behind them.
"Arrrgrgggh" a kyber crystal shot up a little to quickly for Gorgana to dodge slicing her from elbow to shoulder.

They arrived at the entry of the room holding the lifeforms and finding the door to be locked Thalliesin turned towards his group.
"Ahem...Zarr."
The Trandoshian walked up to the door..."With pleasure" and knocked it across the room and towards a very tall woman...[member="Maranon"]

 

[Maranon]

Maranon, too busy still looking over the strange device making a barrier over the turbolift, was quite aware of the danger around her, the stimuli shaking her out of her torpor. She did not really pay mind to the door hurled her way, and when she did she didn't even bother with a hand gesture to catch it with her mind, setting it it gently aside, not even taking her eyes off the device.

"I must admit this is some rather unusual magic..." Maranon said in a faded echo of her playful tone.

"Now what kind of magic requires them growing kybers all over this station--?" She wondered to herself more than the others as she examined the device, admiring its mix of crystal and brass innards humming with The Dark Side.

"Channeling, you suppose?" She asked the others who had joined. [member="Thalliesin Bard"] was among them, and the Zeltron knew he was the one to actually pay attention to, so the question, in truth, was directed at him.

"Bah! I've forgotten more about magic than the amatuer doing this will ever learn..." she grumbled as she set her mind to the problem, closing her eyes, feeling out its magical nature.

It was like a gigantic sieve. It had no power source, save the ambient energy around it, whether collected from the other giant crystals in the area or living beings. Clever little set up. But it could be disrupted.

Maranon took out a knife, cutting her palm. The Dark Magic required for this would be taxing.

She took slow deep breaths, focusing the Dark Side, the blood dripping onto the crystal.

"Oh precious life blood, burn through my obstacles..." she whispered.

The blood started to hiss, then burn, letting off steam as it turned black, the wound in her hand sealing up at the same time. Maranon swooned, stumbling back, coughing, watching the blood eat through the magical machinery of the device in question. It would take six minutes. More than enough time to get to know the other guests.

The ex-Queen rose, turning on the charm.

(Random sexy music plays)

"Allow myself to introduce...myself..." Maranon muttered, realizing she had put her foot in her mouth in the first three seconds. (OOC: AUSTIN POWERS REFERENCE #5072 ACHIEVED!)

"Okay, okay, do-over, do-over, I screwed that last one up...I am Maranon. Keeper of The Six Blasphemies..." she said immedately afterward, her good humor juxtaposed by the boiling power inside her.

 

[Thalliesin Bard]

Well, that was interesting...
Thalliesin Bard stepped towards [member="Maranon"]

"Well... Maroon, I Am Thalliesin Bard, Leader of the Dark Travellers, slayer of many, and bringer of peace to this ever warring Galaxy.
As for what caused this I am lost... If only that old Goat of a blacksmith hadn't made that oath...He would know."

During this conversation the Vanguard tends to their wounded... Except for Demos, Scar and Z'arr who of course were taking turns smashing random crystals into bits... Oh how Thalliesin wished that Theron hadn't stayed with the ship.

Also Rekon the light brown Ewok slowly walked up to [member="Maranon"] and tugged her dress.
"Yub nub gunna rug."

{OOC You can interpret that if you want because I have no idea what he said}

 

[Maranon]

Not 'Maroon', it's 'Maranon'..." Maranon clarified, listening to someone mangle her name for the umpteenth time. She had heard such variations as 'Maran', 'Maranaan', even outright 'Moron' (That was the most common mangling of her name, though Maranon sometimes could not tell whether they were just calling her a moron. More than a few lightning bolts from above may have been unnecessary because of this.)

"Leader of the Dark Travellers, eh? Sounds creepy enough...and you claim to be a bringer of peace? Not to...burst your bubble, or anything...but...you are far from the first person with power to make this claim. I mean, take me for example...I once claimed the exact same thing when I took control of a planet...I was a bloody liar."

Maranon sighed a little. "Oh well, live and learn. Okay, [member="Thalliesin Bard"] , I'll be nice and take you at your word that you are what you advertise...for now..."

She saw them smashing the crystals.

"Uh, excuse me?! Excuse me, that is a very bad idea..." Maranon said tersely with great alarm.

"The magic sustaining these crystals is at the bottom of wherever that turbolift leads. Smashing them will only cause the shards you make to become more crystal fragments. Chit, chit! Its happening already!"

Maranon snapped her fingers and the crystal shards, already lengthening, shuddered as they rose up and were deposited into a local plasma incinerator.

"That's the best way to make sure..." Maranon explained.

The Ewok walked up to her tugged at her clothes and Maranon listened for a few seconds before blushing.

"Oh! Well...not that I'm not flattered... but you really aren't my type, dear." Maranon let the alien down gently, realizing her dark side amplified zeltron pheremones worked a little too well...

"One of the miners told me that they found something and then they hauled in an empty ship that just 'happened' to have a Dark Adept aboard. And whatever they want they are spreading these whole crystals throughout the station to do so. Speaking of which..."

Maranon looked over as her blood finished destroying the mechanism keeping the turbolift shut. The red tinged field shut it down.

Maranon smirked, as the turbolift opened.

She entered it, inviting him to follow her.

"So tell me, what's a big, strong muscular bringer of peace doing out here?" Maranon asked

 

[Thalliesin Bard]

{OOC He really does believe that he will bring peace through destroying the factions warring against each-other... He is delusional.}

The armored warrior stepped into the turbolift..."Z'arr, Demos, Scar come with me...the rest of you get back to the ship and wait as long as you can without putting it and you in danger."

He turned to Maranon "Hmph...flattery however true it might be, will not make you make you greater in my sight...However, as for your question we were on a recruiting mission in the neighboring system when we got wind of the distress beacon."

Z'arr clicked and hummed in his own language. He was relishing this excursion.
Demos turned to Scar "Well we're about to face death yet again my old friend"
"Yesss...and maybe thisss time you won't do something that blows up in my face..."
"That. was not my fault, how was I supposed know a Rancors heart was lower than it should be."

 

[Maranon]

"Hmmm...me? I was out here looking to go to Ossus...what's left of it..." Maranon admitted to [member="Thalliesin Bard"] .

She had missed a lot being dead. Ossus was a ruin, a lost planet. She had seen it in its glory days. Part of her dreaded going back there, and to all the memories it would dig out of the grave...



The Old King of Katanos Seven brought is mace down so hard when it cracked the floor that Maranon was momentarily floored by the shockwave. She had tried Force Pushes on him, all that seemed to do was piss him off. Next had come the hurling of loose statues and furniture but his mace had swatted it aside. He was also immensely speedy, giving Maranon no room to retaliate at times, forcing her to retreat constantly.

After she was too slow to retreat, the mace came down. Maranon's immense telekinesis was all that held the mace back, but this was a considerable effort...the giant of a man pressed all of his mighty strength, and this forced Maranon to her knees even as the mace inched ever closer.

Maranon had to think now. She decided holding back his mace would be a futile waste of her power. So she let go, desperately rolling to the side as the mace cracked the floor.

"Mother Nature, conjure to me a burning javelin..." Maranon whispered.

Fire coalesced from nowhere into a rod with a pointed end, all composed of flame, held in Maranon's hands.

"You should give yourself credit, King. I don't normally break out such powerful magic for one without the Force."

Maranon hurled the javelin at the king....but he blocked it with his palm, and it harmlessly dissapated.

This caused Maranon to raise an eyebrow. "What the hell 'are' you?" (Anytime: 90 XP)

"The Lawful Sovereign of Katanos." The Old King answered, guarding, strafing her in the great throne room. "My people are a peace loving people. They desire no war, yet you have brought it. They desire no blood, yet you'll force them to down it by the liter. I never needed to do any of that to be ruler. To be looked on as a just king. That is why you are a Usurper instead of a Leader."

Had any of the jedi Maranon had once been remained, it would have been deeply disquieted by this. Instead, Maranon only snorted.

The Usurper held out her hand, chanting, focusing her magical might.

"Mother Nature, send a fiery torrent upon my foe."

A fiery orange could filled with orange lightning formed over the king as he charged, sending thick heavy rain drops of fire pelting his robes. Though his robes caught fire, Maranon gulped a little when she realized he was still coming. The robes had burned off, revealing a gaunt, muscular figure whose face was concealed an in all-black helm with wings on the side. Oh. That explained it.

The Usurper grew uneasy...she...she might actually have to beat this one with something other than her usual arsenal...




The turbolift doors opened and Maranon exited, staring at the central machinery depo, a massive storehouse of spare parts and repair bays for critical systems, overrun with crystal growth filled with impaled humans. Maranon spotted a corpse close to a bare section at the center of the depo floor. It was the corpse of a nightbrother, a zabrak in black and white tattoos, in massassi combat armor, this variant one in whit, with a jagged, black crescent on the chest. The corpse was next to a circle of bloody runes with red crystals at the edges and what looked like a blood red holocron at the center, pyramid shaped, seemingly trapped in mining ore. Maranon's revolver came out out, shooting the crystals, watching the fragments for the tell tale moment when they would bounce against something invisible...and they did, hitting the cloaked figure hiding in the crystal growths.

The zabrak decloaked, while the "corpse" broke down into crystal fragments. The muscular man slowly removed a double bladed lightsaber.

"Well done, dark one..." The Zabrak proclaimed. "What gave me away if I might ask?"

"Its not your fault, honest..." Maranon trailed dryly. "I've just been doing this too long. I've forgotten more about the Force than you will ever learn."

The Zabrak smirked, spinning his staff. "If my Force talents bore you, perhaps my skill at the lightsaber will not. I am highly regarded for my skill."

"Buddy, I knew people who would would have diced your instructors up. Hell, I'm not even a tenth what they were at the lightsaber and I will still kick your ass. Be a good boy and not do this the hard way and waste my time and that of this muscular man--"

"Ahem..." The Zabrak coughed.

"Oh, sorry, getting off track. Where was I? Oh, right, I was about to pul the trigger and kill you." Maranon chuckled.

"But you've lowered your revolver--" The Zabrak claimed, for that was what she was making him see."

"No I haven't..." Maranon said, having distracted him with a Force Illusion, circled around him from behind, and leveled the gun at his skull. She pulled the trigger, and her forty four magnum blew the back of his head clean off.

The former queen blew smoke out of the gun barrel, emptying the cases out and loading more rounds.

"His teachers taught him to shield his mind well..." she trailed with a sigh as she holstered her revolver. "But like I said...I have been at this too long. Way too long."

The ex-queen turned the body over examining the armor. "Massassi, high quality. Would have stopped the pistol round...Too bad for him he didn't have a helmet..."

Maranon retrieved his orders from a datapad on his person. He had orders to rendezvous in what was left of the Ossus library." Maranon noted, going over to the runes, looking at the specific parts to destroy the magic effects. Insecomds she found them, chanting old spells of negation to quietly undo the magical effects.the crystals stopped growing everywhere.

"He was trying to turn the whole place into a tuning fork...but for what?" Maranon wondered. "Oh well...we'll learn more on the surface..."

The Force whispered danger, and her yellow lightsaber barely had a chance to activate, Maranon dodging and parrying fast furuous slashes of double bladed lightsabers from other zabraks in white armor, others decloaked to attack Thalliesin as well.

 

[Thalliesin Bard]

Thalliesin chuckled as one of the zabraks charged at him.

"It's been sometime since I have crushed a force wielder in combat...Scar"

Scar lifted his slugthrower and fired a carbonite canister hit the zabrak in the chest freezing him instantly.

Thalliesin was no fool, he was not certain what skills these Zabrak possessed, that's why he brought Demos.

"Raaggghhh" Demos shot out waves of lightning at four of the strange Zabrak warriors, the result was what you would expect...stepping over the charred remains Demos unleashed another wave this time
of force terror, a few fled, some out, others unwittingly into Z'arr who promptly bashed their heads in with his fists.

Of course others started to fight harder out of fear of death. Oh well, everyone is different.

"My Lord their are eleven remaining enemies what are your orders?" Scar Said.
"Block the exits, kill any who stray your way, but otherwise leave them to our new friend."
Z'arr grumbled, and demos zapped him with a small lighting charge. "Orders are Orders don't grumble, besides you already killed four of them."





[member="Maranon"]