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Praise The Sun (Jared, Closed)

Triko

Purple Haze
Writer
ENDOR

The soft clap of boots filled the forests of Endor as the shadow moved through the trees. Birds trilled and creatures stirred; glimmering pools of murky water quivered silently with each motion. Thump. A mossy stone rolled over an overgrown ridge and crashed down into the dirt in a billowing cloud of thick brown dust.

All fell silent as the sun rose through the trees, glimmering rays of pure gold filling the canopy with warm light. The shadow met the light, and there it stood, crouched before the glittering lights of the sun, still and unmoving.

Triko.

@[member="Jared Ovmar"]
 
The Admiralty
Writer
The Rebels were a pain in the collective bum of the Fringe, it was for this that a hunter was dispatched to the forest planet of Endor. He stalked through the lush and vibrant surroundings, while trying to locate his prey. Sources told him it was only a small target, as such he would have to be vigilant. The smaller the prey, the easier they can sneak up on you. He vaulted over a ridge and then jumped on top of a branch of a tree, gazing over the forest; trying to pin-point the prey's location.

It was going to be a worthy fight, if stories were true.
 

Triko

Purple Haze
Writer
The lights danced across the Jawa as he padded along a fallen tree-trunk, crouched down low beneath the vast canopy of endless green. Serpentine branches twisted out around him, scratching at the rotting bark upon which he stood and clawing at him from all sides; by the time Triko had reached the bottom of the basin beneath the ridge, the sun was almost invisible.

His first step onto the basin was met with a soft squelch as his rancor-leather boots sank deep into what he now realized was a bog, overgrown with ivy, reeds and grasses that rose from the glistening mud. Beneath the darkness of the trees, it was near impossible to tell, save for the foul stench of stagnant rainwater.

A second foot plunged into the marsh, brown pools wobbling as the small creature waded towards the hill before him.

Progress was going to be slow.
 
The Admiralty
Writer
Sadly his progress would be severely halted, for it was just then that his Hunter had found his prey. A kinetite ball formed itself between his fingers, as Jared regarded the little Jawa. For a moment he considered what he was about to do, was he sure that this was the right one? Maybe his sources were wrong about him, maybe he had no part in the actions of the Rebel Alliance. But then he thought back to all the deaths caused by the Rebels and he enforced himself, this had to be him. There were only so many Jawas running on Endor.

With a gesture of his arm the Kinetite construct flew from his hand towards the Jawa Rebel. He would need to be fast to avoid it.

@[member="Triko"]​
 

Triko

Purple Haze
Writer
Waist-deep in the impossibly thick mud, Triko stopped dead, golden eyes staring blankly into the trees ahead. For a second there was only the rustling of the trees; the jawa slowly lowered himself into the mud, crouching down slightly amidst the gently wavering reeds.

Then came the hum.

The quiet buzzing turned into a howling screech; in an instant Triko shot down into the reeds, submerging himself in the thick black marsh as the screech dissipated. Now Triko was blind, his world a dark, murky swirl; every movement was slow, sluggish and uncomfortable. He struggled for breath, but he was not scared. For what seemed like an eternity he pulled himself through the mud, his entire body invisible. He started struggling for breath; even the murkiness was fading, his entire world turning a blank white. It was then that Triko felt death fall upon him, cold hands gripping him from all sides. Triko struggled on blindly.

Death clutched him tight, and soon his entire world was white, blank, empty and cold.

Triko did not will it. Triko refused. In a storm of black mud, Triko rose, a phantom of shimmering black, death itself hanging from his shoulders; without another movement he looked up to the trees, looked to the figure among them, and stared, unmoving, infernous eyes staring without reprieve.

@[member="Jared Ovmar"]
 
The Admiralty
Writer
There had been no expectation of hitting the target when he threw the ball, it had merely been a taste of what was to come. Lightning played around in his hand as he extended his fingertips towards the mud pool where the Jawa was located. Then with an almost casual gesture he threw it at the pool, the rebel would have to run quickly if he wanted to avoid being electrocuted. Jumping out of the tree he brandished the hilt of his sabre and casually played with it.
 

Triko

Purple Haze
Writer
Triko heard the crackle of lightning- he barely managed to set one foot towards the edge of the bog before it hit the water. In an instant his world was white, his only feeling that of falling.

With a thunderous crash he came to his senses, lying amidst the reeds as mud enveloped him, his body unbelievably heavy. His eyes opened. He was overcome by the stench of muddy water and seared flesh, congealed blood leaking out across his body as he lay, unmoving, eyes staring blankly to the trees above. The smell grew stronger as blood seeped from the corners of his mouth, followed by thick vomit and even more warm blood. With that he let out a near-silent groan, tepid brown water leaking over his face.

@[member="Jared Ovmar"]
 
The Admiralty
Writer
The little Jawa was no longer visible underneath the mud. But only a fool restricted himself to mere sight, when he had the Force available to him. Jared closed his eyes and with a frown he started scourging the surrounding area with the Force. The Jawa would not be able to hide for ever, it would be a matter of post-- seconds before his Force Sense had localized him amidst the mud.

Carefully he started to build up energy at the same time, for something.. interesting. Something to change up the game entirely.

@[member="Triko"]
 

Triko

Purple Haze
Writer
Like a snake amidst the grasses, Triko slipped through the reeds without a sound, only the subtlest of ripples marking his progress. For a second he wallowed in the silence, peering out from the reeds to the trees where the man had been. It was a beautiful silence, vast and soft. Nonetheless, he needed to act.

The silence was shattered.

Water shot up into the heavens, a wave of glittering bronze rising around the jawa. Reeds parted, bowing down like smallfolk before their king. A storm of crashing thunder was borne about him, the water cracking off the rocks of grey as lightning streaks across the night sky. In a sweeping motion Triko drew his weapon, a dark ball of red- a plasma grenade.

It whirled through the air, letting out a mechanical screech before landing just beneath the man's feet.

Hopefully the water hadn't got to it.

@[member="Jared Ovmar"]
 
The Admiralty
Writer
...Sadly the water had gotten into it.

Even sadder was the fact that now Jared had a clear view of the little Jawa. With a smile he released the power he had built up; an intricate web of force energy surrounded Triko and mental tentacles started digging his head. Having a Mentalist as his Master had certain advantages, like knowing how to mess with someones mind. That was exactly what he was going to do now.

Because seemingly a frontal Force Lightning hit, enhanced by the water, had not quite done a lot.

"You ar-'' He broke off, what was happening. Lights.. flashed.. the world turned upside down and then.. darkness. A sudden screech filled his ears, as he tried to open his eyes. Jared blinked, but only darkness was available to him.

Then suddenly.. Light. A black sun moving through a purple Sky.. "Where am I." he whispered to himself, as he witnessed sights his mind could never come up with.

@[member="Triko"]
 

Triko

Purple Haze
Writer
In a blinding flash of light, Triko was gone, but yet also there. He opened his eyes to the darkest place in the galaxy.

The mind of Triko.

One hand raised before him, a bloody claw of a thing that melted away into the purple sky. The other he dared not look upon. He turned around to see the darkness, and found himself amidst a desert of shimmering red. Asun as black as night rose above the bloody dunes, covering him in sunlight even darker. Giant monoliths rose from all sides, upon each carved a face, frozen in eternal terror.
At first he was confused; then he recognized a face. And another. Each face became a familiar friend to him until he realized at last who they were.

Staring down upon him from the swirling sands of crimson were thousands of dead men, each by Triko's hand. They grew bigger, reaching over him until they disintegrated, turning from shining black stone to scarlet sand.

Triko reared his head, staring deep and thoughtfully into the still, silent sun. He pondered upon the purple sky, and then he looked away, letting out a savage scream of complete and utter fury that rang through the darkness, pausing for some time afterwards.

"Triko in bad place." He murmured.

@[member="Jared Ovmar"]
 
The Admiralty
Writer
It did not take a genius to figure out what had happened. After a little five minute-break of running around in circles, while crying for Spencer, Jared finally came to his senses. His master had warned him for exactly this, when a mind does not have any mental protection... things like this happen.

He was trapped inside the mind of a crazy little Jawa midget and he had no -clue- how to escape it. Spencer had said something about it, in one of there lessons. But... this was probably the wrong time to confess he had not been paying much attention then.

It had been one of their first lessons together and Jared... well he loved his women. So he had been pretty distracted.

With some unease on his... mind, he started exploring his surroundings. Maybe he would find something that could be useful.

@[member="Triko"]
 

Triko

Purple Haze
Writer
ENTERING DM MODE

Jared was soon to hear a low, regular thud. Slowly, albeit surely, the sound would grow louder.

Louder. And louder. And louder.

And then, once the sound was unbearably loud, his very thoughts inaudible, the ground before him would open. Out would rise a titanic arm, scarred and skeletal, covered in grey flesh, shiny but coarse to the touch.

If Jared intended to live, he probably needed to move before it clawed him.

@[member="Jared Ovmar"]
 
The Admiralty
Writer
...and if there was one thing that Jared loved to do, it was living. Sweet sweet living. So the moment a gigantic skeletony hand appeared out of the ground to kick his ass... well let's just say Jared started running his own ass off.

Which was rather a big success, that is until he fell down. As he turned around on his back and saw the gigantic metalic skeletonic (are those even real words) come up to him, he thought he was done for.

It was at that point in time, when death was racing towards him, that he remembered the lessons Spencer had tried to instill into him. It was a fething dream.

His hand moved quickly and swiftly, just like THAT. The Hand turned into a little puppy and jumped into his hands.

That was that. Now a way to get out of this hell hole.

@[member="Triko"]
 

Triko

Purple Haze
Writer
Getting out of this 'hellhole' wasn't going to be that easy.

In the forest where the two beings were lying, inanimate, gurgling on the floor, Triko sneezed.

This summoned some strange things in the mental realm. One of these was a tidal wave of blood.

The other was giant, armoured krayt dragons. Lots of them.

These weren't like to become puppies anytime soon.

@[member="Jared Ovmar"]
 
The Admiralty
Writer
“Sweet Mother of Almighty himself.” the words came as a whisper and just like a whisper it fled into the night. Just like Jared did, with the little puppy in his hands he started running the opposite direction. Skeleton hands, bloody tidal waves and now bloody Krayt Armored Dragons. How the kark was he supposed to fight them with a puppy in hi-- oh right.

Jared threw the puppy in the air and like that the form changed and imploded into a cascading wave of killer-butterflies. Killer Butterflies who would descend upon the Armored Krayt Dragons and on contact would explode.

Hopefully enough time for Jared to find that damn Jawa and get out of here.

@[member="Triko"]
 

Triko

Purple Haze
Writer
Thankfully, the moment Triko sneezed he then rolled over and fell off a log.

This somewhat reduced the gravity in this dreamworld.

Or rather, removed it.

In the bowels of his mind, everything was probably floating, including Jared, Triko, and said wave of blood.

At least he hadn't farted.
 
The Admiralty
Writer
...it was a shame Jared let loose some gas himself. The changes were not as spontaneous as what had happened before, for a while Jared just glided through the air with no problems or qualms. The Krayt Dragons almost forgotten, as they were trying to bite him.

Then.. the gravity came back. But inverted. They were -all- falling from the ground to.. space? Emptiness? The Vacuum of dread and despair? Who knew, but everyone was being effected. Even the little Jawa who probably was still screaming inside of his own head.

Crazy little bugger.
 

Triko

Purple Haze
Writer
Triko wasn't screaming, quite surprisingly. Instead he was dancing with the scantily clad Twi'leks of his mind, for which he was grateful, even if he was falling, or flying. Whatever. The Twi'leks were nice.

He wasn't really bothered about the whole 'inverted gravity' thing.

@[member="Jared Ovmar"]
 
The Admiralty
Writer
Honestly, Jared was starting to worry. Skimpy Twi'leks, Krayt Dragon, Skeleton Arms, Farts that caused a disruption of the gravity. It was heavy stuff, so eventually he figured enough was enough. As he was flying into oblivion he assumed direct control. His mind rippled around, and stabilized the entire environment.

With a blast, they flew into a white room.

“Goddamn it, not -another- white room.”

Feth.

@[member="Triko"]
 
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