Paging Doctor Dasu'r

[Nicair Claden]

Luckily the guard station was a short distance away. He kept his weapons drawn and stayed low to the ground, moving as quiet as he could. He made sure he included his companion in his visual sweep, ten seconds forward, two seconds to either side, glance back. He did everything he could to steady his heart rate. Four second inhale, hold for four, exhale four, hold for four. Nicair didn't put much stock into Matukai meditation techniques, but the martial breathing was beneficial and kept his body in line. The blaster attached to his shoulder followed his helmet in a staggered matter as appeared to have been slightly damaged when he was thrown against the wall. Usually it was able to keep track with his vizor indicator in a snap-to style.

The door was open and the sign next to it. The room itself was empty of anything of use, no doubt the staff would be the first to know of anything happening. All the good it probably ended up being based on the damage he could recall from the hangar he had been in. There were a couple cabinets in various forms of disarray. One was laying "face" down, the doors against the floor. From it seemed to be a metallic crying. Living creature here? How long had someone had to have been hidden here? Flipping it over would leave them open to ambush in case it was a trap. His beskad and tomahawk were sharp, but it would still end up being metal on metal, it would take valuable seconds to stab and tear the metal to get at the insides. This was all assuming that the person inside would even be worth getting out, for all he knew it was just another inmate trying to hide and would give him nothing but insane babbling. While whatever it was stayed unknown it remained a possible threat, a clean stab could put it out of its misery and draw the attention of the pierced metal and death cries of the contents. It was then that he noticed the crying stopped.

"Hu-Hello? Is anybody out there? I heard the patients get riled up and heard different voices. The walls, they echo, they were designed that way. For safety. Yes. So we could hear danger coming. Please, you aren't like them. You're people. Real people. I think. I can help you get out I promise."

The voice sounded like reserved hysterics, barely held in check but growing in excitement and volume. This man would pose a danger without actually being free. The Mandalorian glanced back at his companion. A question. What do to?

[member="Drogh"]

(OOC: I'll be on a study abroad trip for about two weeks, my apologies. I'll try and post when I can and hope we can continue this thread.)

 

[Drogh]

Drogh followed the Mandalorian, he found that he moved with tactical precision, a military like swagger perhaps. The Mandalorians were a very warlike people, aggressive, violent and imperialistic by nature, as much as some try to deny it. This man carried it with him; the idea of war never left their heads, and this one certainly still believed this was a war. Drogh followed Nicar like a shadow, not that he would not waste his time mirroring the pointless gestures, but he made sure that he wasn't too far and not too close, just there stretching out like shadow. Subtle and faint cries echoed out, delightfully teasing with fear, some one was having a rather bad day. The horror and tread, despair and fear all rolled into those tears, crying for help or perhaps struggling to accept one's fate. Then his Mandalorian 'friend' went into a room, Drogh was a bit surprised, walking at a slightly faster pace to catch up, only to find his gawking clueless eyes starting at him.

Drogh knew what he wanted him to say, "let him out", or some thing along those lines but Drogh hated people, and his tears and mumbled voice was a liability, Drogh could see weakness and that man was drowning in it. Drogh said rather bluntly "Kill him, he will bring them to us."

[member="Nicair Claden"]

 

[Nicair Claden]

"Agreed." The decision was blunt, easy, and make perfect sense. Liabilities had to be nipped in the bud. The Mandalorian walked to one of the bunks and pulled up the mattress, an old design that would find use. He placed the padding carefully on the locker and readied his beskad pointing downwards in a stab. He'd need to be fast and efficient, no screams, and no sight of where the individual was even at. He took a moment to steady his aim and gather more approximate information. Then, with a movement as mechanical as any machination the beskad speared downwards and tore through mattress, durasteel, and flesh. The padding slightly muffled the sound of the weapon piercing through the metal. The blood pooling underneath the locker and lack of screams indicated it had pierced through something else just as efficiently.

"I'll keep watch on the door. Check the schematics of the facility."

[member="Drogh"]

 

[Drogh]

Drogh was surprised. This man had saved his life, when Drogh had nothing to offer, other then being another "sane" person, and yet he didn't even hesitate at killing a man that offered help. He had misjudged the Mandalorian, as even some had some remote idea of honor, what ever that means. This one lacked it, but what ever reason this Mandalorian risked his life for a complete stranger that offered nothing, and willingly killed a stranger that offered them help. What did he see in Drogh that he didn't in that man? These thoughts, while meaningless in a sense worried Drogh, his paranoia sinking in he hid behind his mask but his little trust had been evaporated. Remote echos of agony whispered down the halls, far away enough for Drogh to missed as nothing more but painful moans and rumbles of the insane. Yet he was given a task, a task that Drogh believed had no value what so ever. What was the point in finding schematics in a station that was barely functioning? Drogh outright refused snapping sharply with a quiet voice "We need to go, if there are any schematics in here, it's broken, we need to leave who knows what's behind us or watching us?"

[member="Nicair Claden"]

 

[Nicair Claden]

"Nearest hanger should be down the hall. If this place is anything like a prison." Nicair had seen prisons from both perspectives, that of a guard, and an inmate. If this place was what he assumed it to be, more prison than healing facility, it would be designed in basically the same way. Keep the guards close to the hanger to watch for escape and entry. Nobody gets out, and nobody unauthorized gets in. Simple formula that the brutes that don't ask questions can follow.

Mumbling came from down the hallway the way they had come, echoing off the walls. It was familiar and the spacing between words indicated that there was a conversation going on, questions being asked. His gut told him that what he had encountered before was catching up.

"Hurry."

[member="Drogh"]

 

[Drogh]

Voices radiated down the halls, dark and twisted in speech. Mumbles only getting louder and louder, yet faintly so. It was a crawling doom that would follow them if they lurked here any longer. Drogh didn't need to be asked twice to hurry, hurry is what he did. Not wanting to run, in fear of waking those corrupted beasts, or to run into some thing that was mutated. Drogh walked with careful, but fast steps, making sure not to lag behind, yet not to rush off, his dim light only brighten the path to a small extent. Yet, what was there at the hanger? A ship? Drogh grew suspicious of the Mandalorian, would he ditch poor Drogh in this barren hospital? Well, he had saved his life, but only fools trust anyone. And Drogh could feel his betray like how a priest could sense the end times. It was pure paranoia, but paranoia has it's benefits. Drogh in a moment of interest looked behind him, and he was greeted by faint shadows in the distance, at walking pace but getting closer, there was many. Their heavy breathing filled the halls, and their clumsy steps made them as clear as day. Drogh froze, he didn't know what to make of this, he didn't know if to carry on walking, would they chase if he ran?

[member="Nicair Claden"]

 

[Nicair Claden]

The nearest footsteps behind him stopped, it took a couple seconds for the man to figure out why. They were being followed, and by more than one thing. Going on like this would reward them with either death or salvation, and he didn't like the odds. It was almost a sure bet that the Twin was aware of where they were headed, continuing on in a straight line would be a sure way to be ambushed. The problem was that Nicair wasn't even 100% certain he even knew where they were going, this place could have held very dangerous individuals, individuals who would know the basic layout of a prison and thus, this place. If they didn't keep moving somewhere then they would be found eventually, better to be closer to a possible exit for a mad dash. There's too many unknowns, it made him uneasy, more than he already was.

"Better not give them a stationary target." His words came out in a whisper, softer than his usual. He turned to his rear as he did so, allowing his voice the least barriers as possible. At some point it would almost be smarter to remove his helmet, it muffled his speech, in some cases that can be dangerous. He pointed down a side hallway and nodded in its direction.

"Let's see the sights. Use the terentatek's maze against it." His reference was to an old Sith legend of a creature cast away in a maze, fed prisoners. The other details weren't important. Nothing really was.

[member="Drogh"]

 

[Drogh]

Drogh focused his vision on loud beating steps, hearing out and looking how they were moving, slowly, yet it improved with pace with every step, subtly and slowly getting faster. A creeping chaos, slowly they got closer and closer, quicker and quicker. Drogh tensed up, hearing muffled whispered aching it's way to his ear, Drogh heard only blurs of what the man said, but assumed by taking a quick glance at him, that they ought to go. Drogh faced the front of them and his back the darkness behind, yet as the steps go louder and quicker, Drogh broke into a run, carried down only slightly by his clumsy armour; Drogh ran for his life. He had followed the finger of the Mandalorian, but had absolutely no idea what he meant by "teretateks maze", a faint "What?" crossed his lips, a whisper in the dead air as Drogh ran off, only hoping the Mandalorian would follow him, and that he would not bump into grotesque mutants ahead.

[member="Nicair Claden"]

 

[Nicair Claden]

Drogh ran off ahead in the direction of Nicair's finger. He couldn't help but wince and groan as his companion made unneeded noise in his bulky armor and rushed panic. Speed was essential for survival but so was caution. The Mandalorian himself was antsy in the situation and he often forgot his brain caused him to react less to threatening stimuli. Put simply, he had almost negative anxiety, having a little helps with empathy, the basic principle of remembering people get scared and can panic. He sped up his steps but stayed at around the same level, landing on either the balls or the outside of his feet to reduce noise. He could maintain the tracking position for awhile as he had had to do so when he was pursuing big game, people moved differently than animals however. Granted there were some similarities, yes, but instincts are easier to predict than attempts at reason and logic. Intelligence varies, primal concepts don't.

Eventually he was going to need to get his companion under control, that meant he'd need to break into a sprint to close the distance. Sprinting was loud, especially when one had thick armor to weigh down their steps. He needed a pattern in the running, fear was a powerful motivator and drives people with its own whips, faster and faster. Nicair knew better than to try and outpace someone running for their lives, at least in the long haul. He'd need to anticipate turns to close a few inches and feet and a time. The man had learned how to focus his senses on different things, his eyes followed his target, his ears listened in the distance.

[member="Drogh"]

 

[Drogh]

The loud clangs and rumbles of the ground stirred the horde. Drogh had made a critical error, giving into his fear, which he often indulged in. Drogh embraced fear like few could, it shaped him and broke him in two. His entire existence was fear and terror, the force flowed though the easiest when it was like this. He knew how to become it as well as to feel it, he knew what to fear and what to hate, and how to make others fear you. Yet insanity nulls fear, or emphasizes it to such an extent that it no longer becomes noticeable. His light flickers and died, the darkness encased him and drowned him. He was alone, hearing only distance yells and heavy footsteps, then it came. A large grotesque hand reached out from the dark grasping Drogh by the neck, Drogh squirmed and struggled, despite being a force-sensitive he had issues channeling any of it, even if he was linked to it more so then most other force-sensitives. He simply never knew how, and when he did it came out in spastic untrained bursts of energy. Yet even now, as he was smashed up against a wall, a grunt of pain pushed it's way though his strangled neck, but air was fleeing quickly. Drogh could not tell if his eyes were closing or not, the darkness was so encompassing that it blinded his senses, although he could tell he was dying. Drogh worried if his neck would be snapped or a slow struggle till his final breath. He could not even see the body of whom was strangling him.

[member="Nicair Claden"]

 

[Nicair Claden]

Distance was a killer in a situation like this. The Twin was more of one. Nicair chastised himself for allow so much space to have been created between he and Drogh. In the time it took him to cover a quarter of the distance his companion was already pressed against the wall. By half he had become aware of what had happened. By three fourths his mind had already decided what to do. Target the legs. If he can't walk he can't pursue. One might have thought that cutting the hand that held his companion to the wall would have been a good option. Nicair could have used the momentum and maybe cut through the arm, but if he couldn't then he'd be barreling forward, and as this creature had already shown, Nicair would have probably landed into the same sturdiness of a wall. He needed the space behind his target for maneuverability.

With a vicious snarl he swung his left handed tomahawk down into the side of the Twin's left knee. The beskar forged weapon imbedded itself with a sickening chunk, Nicair used his forward momentum to spin on his knee and slash the back of the opposite knee with his right handed beskad. The slash had less effect than he had hoped and had served to put him in a dangerous position. It broke the skin, sure, but not much else. The skin stretched across the rock hard muscle underneath. No sound came from his enemy, the reply came in a lifted left leg that would have sprawled the Mandalorian out had he not let go of his tomahawk. He rolled backwards on his shoulder to create the distance he felt comfortable with. He had to hurry though, this creature had strength he'd never seen before. What just one hand could do to a human neck..

With the gracefulness of a dancer Nicair torqued his body around the creature to its right side and swung his beskad up and over his head down onto its arm. He couldn't know for sure if he had hit it directly, but he had been aiming for the Twin's radial nerve located near the elbow, a direct hit would for the hand open. This was of course assuming it still felt pain and regular "human" pressure points would still be effective.

[member="Drogh"]

 

[Drogh]

Drogh could feel his life being forced from him. The dark corridors only got darker, yet his fear and hatred grew, festering inside him like a volcano ready to burst. Drogh could feel it, the force. The voices inside him had enough, they were screaming into his ears, and the force flowed. Drogh felt as if something was possessing him. His eyes now bloody opened wide, the creature had not let the slightest bit other then turning it's vile head. Drogh would die, or so he wanted to believe. As Drogh slowly clenched his hand into a fist the crackling of bone was heard. Slowly, the twisted body of this creature began to break, it's bones splintered and shattered, some poked out of the naked flesh, like pillars. Groans of pain and fear erupted from this creature, as it's very body was being broken again. This deformed mutation was put right by the force, as it was nothing more but crushed bone and torn flesh after. It's grip was released long before it's death, as Drogh laid on the metallic wall, breathing lightly. As is pain and fear left him, the connection to the force did as well. He felt this gift fly though his fingers away from him, he could only sigh. Drogh forced himself up again, looking ahead into the emptiness. "We need to leave." Drogh said with a determination he had not found before.

[member="Nicair Claden"]

 

[Nicair Claden]

"After you." Nicair wasn't about to let his companion know he had raised a disbelieving eyebrow underneath his helmet.

[member="Drogh"]

(So very sorry for the long long response time and really short reply. College has been hectic recently.)

 

[Drogh]

Drogh found no comfort in this death, as he looked down a the defiled corpse of twisted flesh and bent bone. As the faint steps of a horde came creeping near. Darkness would swell on them, like a tide of black water. They were coming, in the dozens if not more. Drogh could feel them in the sterilized air, feel their faint thoughts in the dark halls. Screams of pain and yells of revenge, but the plain simple desire to kill was also there. Drogh knew neither of them would survive if they lingered here, the darkness was unwelcoming, but what choice did they have left? The grey metallic halls of this nightmarish metal rock floating in the void was all but a horrid thing. Drogh would not linger here any longer. Drogh had come to like this man savage nature held down by thin veil, Drogh liked that. The man might betray him or kill him, but what was the point? If he needn't one the trouble of Drogh in the first place, he should of left him die and tore apart by those foul hordes. Still, to linger in thought any longer would be suicide, we run, we run Drogh. Drogh ran, his feat made a noise all could hear, but did he care? The answer was no, they knew where they were and Drogh would not submit to a horrid of death. He could only hope that his new found 'friend' would follow Drogh.

[member="Nicair Claden"]

(it's fine, respond when ever you want)