Nightmares

[Fatty]

During the night of a peaceful Naboo, there lurked a Nightmare. Hidden in the shadow's, seen only by the shine of the moon, and in the night every moment that passed a new soul, silently left the material plane, at the hands of a Noghri dagger. Above, a storm was setting in, colliding with the once peaceful atmosphere, now filled with an angel of death.

Kyle awoke from a slumber to a startling thunder crack that lit up the room. He was frightened at first, believing he saw something, and just as quickly dismissing it as a childs thought. Rising from his dwelling, he hopped out of bed, and made his way to the stairs. Slowly he walked down the creaky steps, clutching the railing, a hand almost stuck out for the purpose of replacing his dreary eyes, heavy with sleep, but unable to close. He reached the bottom and slowly scuttled across the small house, making his way to the kitchen. He opened the Conservator, scavenging for some Blue milk to heat up and drink, to help with going back to sleep. Rummaging around, he thought he heard something, looking behind him he saw nothing. After a moment with a confused look on his face he retrieved his beverage, closed the conservator door with a creak, and then turned in the direction of the stairs, bumping directly into an alien assassin. Lightning flashed and a small scream escaped his mouth, falling to see a silver blade dripping crimson originally from his stomach, held in the single hand of being with a face like that of death.
------
In the morning all was well and good, until the reports started to flood the police headquarters however. Over twenty political officals dead overnight, and almost no trace of the killer, despite modern CSI. Only Jhar'vokh Bakh'tor knew what happened, and its purpose. How many would die this next night, by this Disciple's hand?

 

[Disciple]

Sitting on a rock in one of the many forests of Naboo was the ultimate enigma, the Sith Lord known as something of a frenzied jackal. His story was millenia old, and his name was whispered around campfires and into naughty children's ears as the ultimate of horror tales; a real life boogeyman come to get you should you act inappropriately. What most failed to realize, however, was that the 'Demon Jester' was actually real... and the man running around the galaxy as him wasn't capitalizing off a legend. He was the legend.

But there were upstarts seeking to make their own way in this universe, followers of a Sith long dead. Followers bearing this particular Sith's name. Disciple. And that... well, that just wouldn't stand. He'd tracked one of these charlatans to Naboo, where a rash of killings was taking place.

He'd surmised, based off this assassin's modus operandi that he'd be targeting yet another official this coming night. Standing, his ephemeral gaze took in the sharp greens of the clearing, the mess of fallen sticks and leaves from the storm the night before. And in the center of this clearing? A body. Another of the Vader followers who'd been on planet and had been killed. He was insignificant, a newbie. And he'd made a fatal error - he'd been the punchline of a killer joke.

Carved into his face was a smile, leaving him forever happy and enamored with the galaxy at large. Placing a finger to the rictus grin of his mask, Disciple shushes the corpse and chuckles. Night would be falling soon, and Jhar's next target?

Well his next target was Disciple. He just didn't know it yet. The Jester had a trap to set.

 

[Fatty]

Jhar sunk his teeth into a particularly rare piece of meat, delighted to the drops of blood that fell from his mouth. He looked off into the distance, disappointed by the falling sun. More pettiful politicals to kill. Jhar packed up his small spartan camp, and headed off to begin his dirty work.

--------

Jhar waited and watched. He had been told this politician would be home an hour ago. He was late. It irrated Jhar, but roused no suspician. He sighed, eventually a figure in black clad arrived and went through the door. Soon would be the time to begin. Lets just get this busy work over with.

 

[Disciple]

Disciple spent most of the day arranging the house to his liking, stashing away his toys in various places - each had a build in cloaking generator that would deactivate by proximity. He'd made sure that this particular politicians day would be delayed too, so that he could ambush him on the way home and dispose of the body. Arriving an hour late, cloaked from the rain, Disciple disappeared into the abode, Force signature suppressed.

Once inside, he disappeared from sight, cloaking himself in the Force. Turning on the bedroom light for a few minutes, a fake body is laid under the covers of the man's bed and the light is turned off. Disappearing into the corner of the room, he plays the waiting game and bides his time.

The Demon Jester was here. And it was time to make his first truly important kill to make sure the pretenders knew he was coming.

 

[Fatty]

The lights went off. From his hiding place Jhar rose, but none would witness him. No ordinary eyes would see Jhar, unless he wanted them to. He entered the house stealthily, and made his way to the bedroom. Every step was silent, every motion brought no attention to itself. Jhar, was a ghost. The door was closed, but this didn't matter. With the force, the door was opened without noise. A glistening knife pierced through the darkness, as the Noghri revealed himself to his unsuspecting victim. The politician should be greatful, dying during sleep was so much more pleasing to those without honor. If he had it his way, Jhar would scream and thrust a sword into the mans hands, to give him an honorable death. No such pleasure would come of this night, and this upsetted him. Of course all of this was for a purpose, but what this purpose is, has been yet to be revealed to all but Jhar.

 

[Disciple]

Secreted away in his own little corner of this particular universe, Disciple could only grin beneath the already happy facade he had on. Eyes alight with anticipation, he flexes his fingers like the legs of a spider, gripping invisibly at the figure that was soon to come. He couldn't quite see him, nor truly sense him... but he felt him. That killer instinct within him finding it's companion in someone or something nearby. One killer will always know another on sight. It was just the way of things.

When the knife flashed, and the body fake was impaled, he grinned and pulled his two lightsaber shoto's out. They were small, more daggers than anything, but they were what he preferred to use. Assassin's sabers, was what they were. Boosting himself with the Force into a blur, he lunges towards the back of the Noghri, aiming to piece his shoulderblades just below his neck. Once they were in, and if they were in, he'd simply pull them downward to slice the man open.

A perfect ambush.

 

[Fatty]

A gasp escaped Jhars mouth just as he activated his own shoto blades whipping around to parry just in the nick of time. He spun the blade in his hand rapidly as he twirled for a counter attack, and when it was parried he leapt backwards behind the bed and used the force to throw it at his assailant. Hm, how ironic. The assailant's assailant. Jhar caught a glimpse of the assassins face as the bed seemed to pass through him harmlessly and his lightsabers glow illuminated his face. Jhar was caught a few moments off guard at the other beings apparent face, but he did not allow it to deter him for long. Charging forward Jhar lengthened his blade to thrust it forward like a spear, and followed up with a shortened hind-blade for a stab to the stomach, which could easily adjust to a block from a second blade in the combat of which he would use the momentum to carry down as he would leap over his oppenant with a straight down slash, as his feet connected with the floor. Jhar hoped he was several steps ahead of this Sith, brute strength did not seem to hold up well the last time he fought one, or the time before that. Having two arms would have been welcome help to his last duel, and Jhar wouldn't mind his arm back now either. He felt the power emanating from this one as well. Was the Sith Empire hunting Jhar so soon already? Surely Darth Sidic couldn't be that displeased. Well I did destroy his super-weapon.... and deny him of another apprentice.... and left him empty handed. Perhaps fighting this Sith won't be so difficult. Maybe I'll only lose a foot. A foot is easy to work with, I can just as easily kick with a peg in place of flesh and bone can't I? All these seemingly random thoughts coursed through his head at once as he prepared for a lengthy battle.

 

[Disciple]

The beast was faster than he'd anticipated. Far faster. But it was an eventuality that had been planned for. As he'd noticed, the bed passed through empty air. There was, however, a small problem of taking on a theater major was overly theatrical moves. He outsmarted you with simplicity. A void greeted the overhead slash, and instead, in the space directly in front of where the Noghri landed was a jack in the box.

It's head was a human skull, and a dart launcher spat a rancor tranquilizer at him from near point blank range. The real enemy he sought? The Sith? He was perched upon the overturned bed, that mask's ridiculous grin almost mocking him. "All work and no play makes for a boring end to your life."

 

[Fatty]

Jhar gritted his teeth. Once again he was in danger of death or worse. He saw the tranquilizer and he could do almost nothing about it. Where the hell did that come from? Jhar in a quick attempt to save his life bent over backwards as he altered the darts tragectory with the force in the general direction of the Jester. Falling on his back Jhar quickly rolled back and slashed the lethal toy. The Sith was a Joke! Albiet an incredibly lethal joke, but what could his words possibly mean other than an unfulfilled life?

"There is no honor in entertainment! Now die or kill me! I have no time for your pointless games!" Baring his teeth he scaned the room with his mind for any potential false-hoods and works of trickery.

 

[Disciple]

Cackling faintly, the dart is crushed mid-flight by the Jester's mind. Having distracted the Noghri into both talking and looking for more traps, it was his time to fight. Reaching out faintly with one hand, the Force coalesces around the beasts throat. Unlike most Force Choke's where the build up was slow and to make a point, Disciple put all the pressure he could into it nearly immediately. The point? Crush his windpipe.

"As you wish."

And then he cackled. Yet again.

 

[Fatty]

In an instant Jhar could not breath, and even after the pressure was relieved he still could not. The nasty Sith crushed my windpipe! Jhar's mouth was agape, having not a second hand to place it upon the throbbing pain. His lungs burned. With this Jhar had no choice but to enter a rage, augmented by the force. Soon he would no longer need his breath, and charged the Jackal without a further word, not only because he didn't deem it necessary, but because he couldn't. Mouth open full of predatory teeth the Noghri leapt at the Sith with the force, trailing behind him a wide arc of light, simultaneously he produced the biggest force push he could. Rubble flew forward, and hopefully the Sith as well through the hole the Noghri just blasted through the building.

 

[Disciple]

Cackling happily as he's shoved through the hole that was pushed through the wall of the building - bed and all, the ragdoll of Disciple laughs and laughs, even once he's hit another wall and sluggishly gets up. Reaching out with the Force to either side, he pulls his blades back into his hands and dances about merrily, knowing that, in his rage, the Noghr couldn't be far behind.

Humming to himself, he bows to the right and then bows to the left, the wisps of his ephemeral blue gaze leaving paths in the air following the movements of his head. Kind of defeated the purpose to try and stab someone you were flinging away, but regardless! "The show must go on!"

 

[Fatty]

Following through the hole the wide arc he had been building reached maximum muscular momentum, allowing the Noghri's muscles to work easier with the effects of gravity and inertia, allowing for an incredible increase in power. During his charge he deactivated one blade while lengthening the other. The result was an incredibly strong aerial attack containing muscular, gravitational, and force augmented strength behind the strike, that could easily be readjusted should the agile joker dodge, as the momentum of his arm could be used to twirl a new attack in a circular motion. Of which Jhar would attempt decapitating the enemy, should his attempt of dissecting his opponent down the center fail, or be blocked. If it was blocked than the momentum would be inverted as he would switch the active blades and lengthen the one he would attempt to stab behind him, should that be blocked too then the Noghri would give himself distance between he and the enemy with a back kick. No longer did the assassin think, no oxygen was reaching the brain, he relied entirely on the force. Soon he would have to learn how to sustain himself on the force if he was to survive this night. Jhar hated the thought that he was being used as this clown's play-thing.

 

[Disciple]

"No, no, no!", the Jester chides in a comical mimicry of an angry teacher scolding a student as the beast did what all beasts did best. Attempt to win through brute strength. The assassin would be using vast reserves of his Force potential to keep himself functioning when he couldn't breath, but it was only a matter of time before the lack of oxygen to the brain would see him collapse. It was a process Disciple was about to speed up.

The Force flowing around him, saber raising to halt the descent of his opponents blade, Disciple simply disappeared - only to reappear behind the Noghri by some ten feet or so. He'd used an ability called Force Travel, in which he could tear open a hole in the fabric of space and teleport himself wherever he pleased. It could, feasibly, transport him across the galaxy, but was near-deadly if you didn't know the end-location by heart or if you'd never been there. Therefore, it worked best when you had eyes on your destination; which Disciple did.

Flinging a powerful Force Push towards the Noghri's back while deactivating his sabers, he made a mental probe and rammed it towards the Noghri's mind, hoping to induce a catatonic state within the xeno to put him into Stasis. "I'm all for the audience getting into the performance, but this is ridiculous!"

 

[Fatty]

What trickery is this? Jhar had seen the clown before him but just a moment ago, and now he was gone, only discover his new location behind him as he was thrust forward. The rip the clown had made broke Jhar's concentration, causing him to convulse in an attempt to breathe, upon landing hard into a wall and then slumping to the floor. Then the probe came, invading his mind. In anger, Jhar let go his lightsaber and threw one of his daggers at the devil, trying to force him out of his mind. On the floor, the Noghri was an interesting spectacle, his image being constantly warped as he tried to hide from his oppressors eyes, or cause illusions with his Doppelgangers to buy more time to solve his situation. He was doing all he could to survive at once, a fatal mistake on his part, but one observing would be amazed by his great lengths, seeing objects all around him fly around him and away from him. Trying to cause as much distraction as possible to the intrusion.

Why was this demon tormenting this insignificant disciple? A mere beginner versed against a Sith Master. What purpose could this madman have for this small creature? The Noghri's body slowed, the convulsions stopping, the illusions fading. He was dying, slowly. He tried to call on the force, asking it for guidance. His mouth slowly opened and closed in a childish attempt to "eat" the force to sustain him. He tried to will his throat to heal, for his lungs to expand and collapse, he willed himself to breath. The probe still existed though, his distractions paying for nothing in the long run.

This disciple must live, there are many more years he must serve his Patron! His lightsaber still on the ground, the Noghri made one last attempt to stand, and pulled yet another knife. Unable to rise fully, he imperceptibly hobbled his way in his tormenters general direction. A pain in his head caused his nose to bleed, and phantom pains were killing the Noghri, as he felt his tormentor replay his failure, over and over again. using the force he screamed at the joker with many voices, clawing the floor for grip, his legs refusing to operate, and going nowhere with his one arm. He screamed again, louder, angrier.

"What do you want!!!!" He threw his knife again.

 

[Disciple]

Disciple stepped out of the way of the first dagger, marching forward slowly and with clear lethal intent. The footsteps were slow, considering, and his attention was focused solely on the man on the ground. There would be no distraction now - distraction was solely in the mind of the Noghri, who was splitting his efforts in a flailed attempt at survival.

Splitting reality, Disciple's shape literally begins to pull in two, separating into two distinct shapes. Each had one saber hanging from their waist and thus it was near impossible to tell which one was the true one. No longer is there the taunting laugh of a court jester. Gone is the perceived happy airs the Sith put on. The grin plastered on the mask was now sadistic instead of just creepily happy. Somehow, that smile was angry.

That anger radiated through the air, weighing it down. Hatred was a Sith's greatest tool, and simply be existing, the Noghri had handed this tool to his opponent. "What do I want...?", he asks, suddenly dangerously serious. "I want you... and the rest of your ilk. To die. You besmirch my good name. I am the only true Disciple and I serve not your inglorious Vader." It was the tone of an answer given in the last moments of life, that last bit of realization for a departing soul to give him some semblance of peace before passing on.

Each form pulls out a saber, paired blades erupting into life as they each stop to one side of the Noghri. That probe was still there, never ending. That last knife he'd thrown? Embedded in one of the bodies of the two Jester's. But, no blood seeped out. Either it was a very, very good clone or the real assailant just didn't bleed.

"I think you'll have no problem dying.", the voice whispers directly into Jhar's ears before the sabers swing. One to remove Jhar's remaining arm, the other to slice his legs off.

 

[Fatty]

"-inglorious Vader." He gritted his teeth. He watched displeased as the knife drew no blood, and perplexed by what was happenening before him. "-no problem dying." With that, Jhar pushed in all directions, causing the floor to give way. Jhar fell as the room he was just in exploded in the last of his ability in the force. He was nothing but a Noghri now, and luckily in his attempts to survive his crushed windpipe had been moderately repaired, allowing for strained breathing. He saw a glint nearby, and scuttled quickly over to collect his lightsaber, and ran as quickly as he could to the door. As he left he dropped an explosive, intended for exactly this. Within ten seconds it would detonate large enough to engulf the house. Jhar was expecting burns to scorch his back along with shrapnel embeded into his armor. He jumped into the streets and waited for the place behind him to be engulfed in flame. The authorities would be here soon after, Jhar would need to find someway of escape, or a faster way of killing this living Nightmare.

 

[Disciple]

If Disciple was prone to screaming in rage, he'd do it right now. But what good would it do? The short alien was already gunning for the door and Disciple would need to leave himself - if only to follow. The doppelganger disappeared and Disciple pulled the knife from his chest with a grunt. Already, the regenerative processes of his body was seeing fit to heal the wounds he'd received.

Sprinting for the exit, both sabers dangling from his hips, he's gone by the time the explosive goes off. Police would be scrambled, investigations would be conducted. But no manhunt would begin. At least not officially. Reaching out, he attempts to find the Noghri with his mind, intent upon tracking down the escapee as quickly as possible.

"Hmmm.", he considers, bounding into the night with leaps and hops. The Noghri would likely make for a hideout, a doctor, or a spaceport. But, for now, he was confined to the local area. Which meant his trail was fairly easy to pick up. After all, the abject pain and confusion he felt was practically radiating. As was the indignation at his insulting of the man's likely deity. "And so the curtain closes and Act 2 begins..."

 

[Fatty]

The swaps. I must make it to the swamps. Jhar was running from the explosion, and this was his reasoning that the swamps were much thicker in trees and would protect him better than a forest. This notion however evaporated. His stay on Naboo was ended now. Despite the looks of this planet, this place was Dangerous. A powerful Sith Lord, and a crazed Sith maniac had fought him here, both times they had essentially killed him. The spaceports weren't an option either, that would be the first place he'd look. Obviously he wouldn't mind killing a few civilians to get at him. The hunter was being hunted... quite well actually. Jhar went through all the possible places he would search for. Safe house (natural areas derived of buildings), or a spaceport. He then looked at his condition, a degraded version of himself, a havoc wrecked upon his flesh through his rage. A doctor is where he would look next. Did Jhar think he could sneak up on this monster should he follow him? Then Jhar had a thought. Surely there was a crime syndicate around here somewhere. If he found a base of operations somewhere then he could hire them to detain him at least long enough for Jhar to leave planet. Jhar though was frightened by the prospect that the joker seemed to be able to rip through space and time at will, being extra careful around corners, expecting him to be there. He was beginning to regain his force strength and with it began to conceal his force signature, running through the streets before climbing up and jumping from roof top to roof top. Looking for suspicious activity that may just save his life.

 

[Disciple]

If there was one thing you should never do while trying to hide, it was go to the rooftops to move yourself around. Because, invariably, when looking for someone, you sought to get a height advantage to track your prey. So it was that Disciple caught sight of Jhar. However, in order to mask his presence, he subtly nudged Jhar's senses and perceptions. Due to how dark it really is, the moving shadow of Disciple was far less likely to be seen.

The subtle nature of this manipulation should allow it to go unnoticed. And again, the hunter was the hunted. He'd wait for the Noghri to get somewhere truly either alone, or at least partially isolated to make his next move.