Pumpkin Smashing

[Astoach]

​

As the dreary sunshine sunk through the thick flora that expanded across Felucia’s populous surface, the briefly luminous plants, whose trunks lit aglow with neon bright shades of vibrant color, sunk into darkness, cast under the behemoth shadow of distant, forested mesas and arcs. In the shadow the fauna, sunken into their various hubs, holes, and dens would densely scatter through the alien brush, desperately sinking into the nuts and berries, or the exposed prey, whilst the sun vanished beneath the far obelisks. Much like the grubs, the yerdua, and whatever hidden amphibian and reptilian specie attempted to scavenge the darkness, Astoach too exposed himself into blackness, bathing in shadowy downpour and exposing himself to the mortal sense of reinvigoration, shining into his bones like radiation and cleansing him of the sun’s poison. Light would be damned by him.

He traversed this hunt alone, parting ways with his partner, Kresh, to assume the mantle of sole predator, encapsulating his perimeter with the sense of dread he alone emanated. But the corpse of a man he was, walking in the footsteps of God, sprouting small spores of fungi from his face and vomiting the truths of reality so vivid he would be damned a monster until his dying breath. Or so he thought, the mask on his face growing heavy as it filled with sweat, for the days of Felucia were humid and hot, and the trek through the jungle was difficult, even with the durasteel machete he used to hack his way through the messy vines and flower-like trees that sprouted from the wilderness like a fungal infection. He had discarded his cloak for this journey, bearing only his exposed chest above his trademark black pants and boots. He intended for this hunt to be special, where he would bare his self to the world and remain confident in his bestial nature.

[member="Carona Totsari"] was his target, a lone padawan exposed to such vile nature with the assistance of some other opponent, perhaps an additional Jedi if he were to be fortunate. Why they had traveled here was unknown, but through the eyes of his void – his knowledge -- he spawned a crusade against them, planting probe droids stealthily within her midst to watch, to learn, and at the moment her destination to Felucia was revealed he took flight to follow. He could have landed closer, Astoach knew that well, but the intense experience of exploring the jungle, to finally reach a climactic height of lascivious enjoyment as he butchered the pair, was too much to give up. His hair stuck the flanks of his face, curling into his cheeks in greasy sweat as he gulped exhaustive breaths. He might be a god -- in his own vision -- but he was still contained to the fetters of flesh, and exhaustion would claim him easy after miles of travel on foot, especially in such hostile terrain. His blade already painted blues, blacks, and reds from the gored beasts that approached him as predators, only to find themselves prey, butchered and rotting amongst the fallen plant life as food for the lowest. Ironic as Astoach would put it lovingly, for all things ironic he adored.

Now it would be time to stain it additionally with the gore of a togruta padawan, bathing it in layers of crimson blood and scattering the guts to the wind, as sacrifice to dirty the world of Felucia. It would spread his seed, his Polyp and then, and only then, would he claim Felucia as a further home to him, an additional heart in which he had sunk himself into, sharing a bond in his sacrilege of all things breathing, the desecration of all things in the Force.

 

[Carona Totsari]

[member="Astoach"]


Carona chuckled as she followed the newly dubbed Jedi Knight, Dye Facct, through the jungles of Felucia. Carona was usually with her mentor Matsu Ike, but Facct wanted to take an "easy" apprentice to test his own skills as a mentor... of course, Carona was the best seen option around. As the terrelian endlessly talked about facts Carona already knew about, she looked around the beautiful night time. The plants glowed in a marvelous display of shapes and colors. This had to be her favorite planet to be on... after the troubles the Clone Wars and many more conflicts put it through, it was beautiful as ever... only if Carona could say the same for herself.

Dye Faact and Carona Totsari were on a mission to check on a small town of farmers, aligned to the Silver Jedi, who hadn't replied any messages they recently received. Carona sighed, the togruta loved this planet, but bad things always happened here...

Carona was having a good time, but she was suddenly stopped dead in her tracks when she sensed something... a darkness... The mute child "called" out to her temporary teacher, Master, I sense something!

The blue terrelian stopped as well, taking a moment to take everything in. The redhead then turned to Carona, worry across his yellow eyes, "I sense it too. It's odd though..."

What? Carona asked, drawing closer to the knight.

"... I don't sense it's a force user..."

Carona pulled her pale orange finger to her chin, Maybe just an animal?

The terrelian jedi shook his head, "No, it's a very intelligent person."

Carona nodded, now entirely serious. If there was one thing Master Facct was great it, it was his force sense. He motioned her to follow him, "I'm sorry, but I don't think you are safe here."

 

[Astoach]

Dye Faact: "I'm sorry, but I don't think you are safe here."

Astoach lurked just beyond the brush, outlined in black and surrounded by the incandescent rays of illuminating light cast from the breadth of various luminous fungi, exposed in darkness and taking alight in shadow. He watched from behind their gaze, eyeing the nips of their neck and breathing shallow gasps of bodily ecstasy. If they were turn, however, he would vanish, silently sinking into the dense underbrush to observe as an animal, taught and drawn into the erotic stance of predator and prey, observing the prime opportunity to strike, not for fatal blow, but for the prime ignition of terror. He was the thresher, the jawline of the rancor, snuggly fit into the maw lined with razor teeth, gnashing the bones of the unsuspecting. He was a phantom, the Ghost of Pain, the Dark Comedy, and tonight, for all the failures initiated, he would have his revenge.

Jedi, Sith, Witches, or Passersby, it made no difference in his eyes, sunken into the black, puckered holes of leather, curtained by shadow. It was all the same, all the prey, and through their exalted ends he would traverse heaven and earth, body and soul, and accumulate Legion within himself. He would indulge in the drink of their blood, and swallow the flesh in gorging heaps of flyblown carrion. It was not for the pleasure, that was the killing’s part, but in death, in devoured meat, they would connect as one. It was not a measure of intensity, but a measure of purpose, of divine right that would save them all from themselves and Astoach would be the Christ that reveled in his chosen priesthood. “I’m coming,” he whispered from behind the flora, crawling amongst the layers of shadow cast upon the overblown leaves and tall, wide fungi that expanded with greedy extensity along the jungle grove. “I’m coming.”

He crept his body low on the ground, the machete resting in its weathered sheathe of leather, softly clacking against the overgrowth and he snaked through the low-grown vines and vegetation that coated the ground below. They knew he was here, even without his incessant callings to them in the mutter of heralded demise. He wanted them to raise their guard, to wait, to fester in fear and in that brief window of climax he would initiate the assault. For was death incarnate, born to chop sinew from bone and bathe in blood, to cascade the worlds con amore in gore. “I’m coming for you, Carona,” he said, quickly skittering through the brush to a new direction, desperate to keep the pair from pinpointing him, lest they run in the opposite direction and turn a fun game into a prolonged chase. “I’m going to catch you Carona. You and your friend.” He spoke not with hostility, but a very eerie truth that radiated in his voice, a voice of calm demeanor, as if simply stating the means in which gravity behaved, holding us all to the surface of planets near and far.

Without a doubt, he would be coming. Soon.

[member="Carona Totsari"]

 

[Carona Totsari]

The feeling was getting worse.

Carona felt almost sick now, like it was ready to reach out and pull her into a monster's jagged teeth. She dare not voice her full doubts to her master now though, why would he listen to her? A little padawan with no wisdom to speak of at all. He titled his head towards the trees, hair bouncing about, "C'mon, let's get back to the ship for now."

Carona nodded, relieved that they were retreating. As she let out a small sigh of relief, she followed him into the forest. Their ship was only a small run away. For Carona though, it was an exhausting run or no run. Quickly, compared to the jedi she was assigned under, she was all out of breath. She stopped for a moment, trying to pull gusts of air into her burning lungs. She tried to stop her mentor, who was many yards away now. Carona thought he was lucky to be terrelian...

Master, wait! Let me catch my breath, please?

Dye Facct skidded to a halt, turning to watch her. Carona was bent over, but she could hear him activate his lightsaber, "Hurry, padawan, he's closer!"

Carona knew it. She could feel it very well. They had so much little time, but she already felt like she'd run an entire marathon. Carona was fighting the urge to let her self harming thoughts on her physical disorder take over and looked up to the Master Dye again... her eyes widened at the image in front of her though...


[member="Astoach"]

 

[Astoach]

There would be no escape, for the monster’s jagged teeth ensnared, caught onto strings of skin and muscle and tipped into the veins, digging and hooking into bone and latching the maw to the man. They would run to safety assuredly, yet, as the little girl fell ill under her own exhaustion, they opened the window of approach, the moment of unseen fear to strike, slipping into the heart like a long needle, to drain the blood from your face and drive you pale, drive you mad. As she pleaded for assistance, for them to pause – which the Jedi foolishly did – Astoach was granted the opportunity he had been waiting for. She doubled down, allowing the arrogant knight to separate and distance himself, opening flaws in vision and protection, and removing the safety of numbers.

Carona was bent over, but she could hear him activate his lightsaber, "Hurry, padawan, he's closer!"

How right he was, Astoach already stood behind him, sniffing down his neck with flared nostrils, hidden behind the gruesome fetish of leather tied to his face by bands of taught, tanned animal flesh. Dye had ignited his blade, the brief momentum of his gait speaking words of surprise at the presence, the overwhelming essence of cold, which swallowed him from behind. The Monster’s jagged teeth. They were so close to the ship too, if only a few dozen meters away. If she ran, she would make it, and if she could fly, she would escape instantaneously, no harm done. Even with her weakness, she would escape, Astoach would be fixated upon his current prey, the Knight, and sought to bleed him dry before he greedily gorged upon the child. But no, he would work on that, he would not grant her the avenue of freedom, and would ensnare her also into his jagged teeth, biting at her psyche with the visage present.

Her eyes widened as she glanced up, gazing at the tall, dark figure that stretched beyond her ally as a shadow born alive, aflame of black, risen from the shadows of night to swallow, devour, and imbibe. The knight was turning now, but time seemed to move so slow, the adrenaline coursing through his sick, erotic enjoyment of the predator to prey intensity as he sowed the seeds of fear amongst the two unsuspecting Jedi. The Knight’s gaze had hardly reached him, noting only the sole silhouette of darkness amongst the backdrop of luminescent foliage, before the slash came, the blade drawn so swiftly from the sheathe it seemed to make the wind roar in force. It bit into the left elbow as the Knight turned, severing the arm in crimson explosion of scarlet life, liquidated and released from weeping veins. He screamed, the lightsabre tumbling from his hand in the shock of pain, and collapsed into the wild grass below.

Astoach reached out with tender compassion, grasping the crimson hair of the terrelian and weaving his fingers throughout the locks of red hair. An ironic color. He faced the child, eyes of white and black glittering in the moonlight, freed from the shade of his mask to stare, wide-eyed in excitement, and practically shimmering in his hidden grin. The Knight screamed in pain, blood soaking passionately into the pale robes and sinking, spilling into the ground below, and with such pain Astoach tugged his hair, drawing his head back with all of his strength, and forcing it to face the padawan before him. “Carona, it’s me,” said Astoach in a solemn tone, thundered across the silence shattered only by Dye’s screams of pain. “Death.”

[member="Carona Totsari"]