Red Right Hand

[Ronan Vizsla]

NAR SHADDAA​

THE CHASM​

--​

​

[member="Irella Toldreyn"]​

​

Little Coruscant, they called it. Nar Shaddaa... planet of crime, chaos, anarchy, there was no order to be found except the one instilled by the strong on the weak. Strange how an environment like that could hold prisons, but it did.

One of them was called the Chasm.

More a hole digging deep into the duracrete of the world and spanning multiple levels. The worst of the worst (or the unlucky) were thrown in the hole to be forgotten. There was no way out, the corridors were lined with micro-cameras and every movement made was recorded. Then? Broadcasted. Because the Hole was not just any prison. It was a vile form of entertainment for the denizens of Hutt Space.

Tune in and see how those prisoners ripped each other to shreds for scraps.

How they fought one another for so long that they had forgotten what the sky looked like.

Members of a paramilitary outfit controlled the Chasm these days. Their enforcers rolling through the streets, picking up the weak and accepting the betrayed, before dropping them into that whirlpool of ash, death and blood.

---

His taste and smell returned to him before vision did.

Smelled like... blood. Tasted... salt. He tried to blink, realized that even with an eye open Ronan couldn't see chit. It took a moment to process why- dried-up blood where they had knocked him over the head one too many times. Vizsla couldn't remember what had happened exactly, but as every bone in his body creaked and whined, he knew it wasn't good. "Funny." Ronan murmured softly as he tried to rise.

His muscles strained, until eventually Ronan managed to lift his head.

There were shapes in the distance.

Around him.

Their noises were muted, but something filtered through. How the hell is he still alive? Should we- no. Leave him. But look at that meat! Some of them stepped away from him, others merely came closer without bridging the entire distance.

Vizsla waited.

There was someone else here too, also awakening. "Who wants to go first?" His voice like the crashing of duracrete slabs against one another. Violence promised with a single syllable.

 

[Irella Toldreyn]

Nar Shaddaa, 'The Chasm', Somewhere Terrible, No Doubt, Undetermined Time
Literally At Rock Bottom | Interacting with [member="Ronan Vizsla"] ~ Wolves Without Teeth ~ "And I run from wolves, breathing heavily."
——————————————————————

You know how you know you've had a really bad night?

When you don't remember most of it.

Irella's entire body seemed to scream, begging for any sort of relief to the full-body aching she was experiencing as a result of whatever had been done to get her down here in one piece. With a foggy head she stirred from the depths of blissful unconsciousness in a somewhere that felt dark, violent and foreign. Sure, that's what all of Nar Shaddaa felt like, and she'd grown accustomed to that over her time on the derelict Hutt world, but--How had she even gotten into a place this dark and hopeless to begin with?

Such poor company, too. Voices echoed through her mind; her hearing came back in a sharp instant and almost at once she shut her eyes tight and tried to block it all out again. Fear coiled in her like a constricting snake, not just a product of her situation but of the sheer amount of confusing, overwhelming noise around her that led to a myriad of emotions to flicker in and out of focus. Mainly the bad ones. She was meant to avoid those, right?

Oh, but the loudest one produced a bone-chilling, ice-cold feeling in her gut that was just what she needed to get her system in overdrive. Rolling over from her prone position to her back the rogue started working herself up to a sitting posture, only biting out in an entirely unbecoming tone at the one who seemed to be the Netherworld with vocal cords, "Are you serious?" It was the only three words to come to mind, as a secondary thought registered in her mind.

My lightsaber is gone. Oh, chit.

 

[Ronan Vizsla]

[member="Irella Toldreyn"]

Behind him the other presence finally climbed to her feet.

He sniffed.

The whiff spoke of fear, pain and shock... whoever she was this was the first time she found herself in this sort a place and this sort of land. "Always." Ronan murmured back as he kept his eyes on the half a dozen of the most brave approaching. He only had his hands, they had taken his beskad (that realization made the decision for him. They'd all be turned to ash.) and... the Mandalorian quickly snatched up a piece of rock at his feet, turning it slowly in his hand.

Feeling its weight, the balance.

"No armor," He informed the one at his side. Behind his side anyway. The stench of fear was still forcing itself up his nostrils. At the very least Ronan wouldn't have to worry that she'd try an' take him while he was handling the business.

That would have been annoying.

"No real weapons." Sticks, stones, one had a shiv. "Go for the eyes. Throat. Use teeth if need be." That tone of his made some of them stop. Think twice. They didn't leave, but they didn't continue their track towards them like the other four. Instead they decided to wait and see what happened next. Ronan didn't move there. Instead he just waited, head slightly inclined, knees barely bend and resting until they crossed the line. Where a single leap would take him between them.

"Don't kill. Destroy."

Killing them would mean nothing.

Leave them alive to show the tale? That would inspire fear.

 

[Irella Toldreyn]

Nar Shaddaa, 'The Chasm', Somewhere Terrible, No Doubt, Undetermined Time
Back Against The Wall | Interacting with [member="Ronan Vizsla"] ~ Wolves Without Teeth ~ "At my feet, and I run from wolves."
——————————————————————

Always. Shaking off the last of her delirium and forcing down the last of the emotions associate to the orchestra of death around them-- They were to be a 'them', then. Great, just great --Her new ally's grim suggestions began, and Irella's heart dropped a few meters in her chest in reaction. Forefinger rubbed against thumb as she debated tactics mentally, tan eyes alive with their situation glancing between him and the goe. The man next to her, she knew already, would fight like an absolute animal. Not just because of his words, which granted plenty insight into his mentality at the moment, but the way he felt compared to the others in the Force. Taking her weapon away didn't lessen her connection to it -- In actuality, they were probably safer with the blade out of her hands. Stars knew the damage she could do to herself with the damned thing.

The others were prey, plain and simple. This was the hunter, and she felt a silent gratitude that she was on the same side of the divide as him.

"Eyes, throat, teeth, got it." The offhand manner in which she had to state those three utterly barbaric methods of self-defense would have sent her reeling if the rogue's disposition wasn't as well-honed as it was. She hated this planet sometimes, she really, really did, but it made people of impeccable caliber on occasion. Long ago it might have been a serious test to see if she could have brazenly taken life, but now, now it was just another stepping stone. A necessity. Something inside reminded that if she didn't kill them first, they would almost certainly do her in. Without question.

A small, jagged piece of duracrete was her weapon of choice, cradled in bruised hands with reluctance behind the grip. If this was a bad dream, it was the first one for a while that seemed all too real; but dreams usually ended by now. This one kept going.

 

[Ronan Vizsla]

[member="Irella Toldreyn"]

The atmosphere thickened inch by inch.

Like a great rubber band being pulled into two different directions, until it finally snapped. The change in Ronan's demeanor was palpable for a singular moment- they had crossed the line and there was no doubt in Vizsla's movement as he leaped. Three out of six got lucky (maybe) and passed him by towards Irella. The other three immediately tried to recover ground as the sharpened rock in Ronan's head came down crashing, the point jabbing into an eye.

A violent twist and it turned the socket to pulp, but Ronan was no longer there to enjoy the scream.

Instead he moved further and forward. His was the storm and even as he accepted a gash across his side (he had no armor on either, they took his beskar'gam too. They would suffer) his hands lashed out, snapping bones and maiming without hesitation.

In those violent moments Ronan's wake was quiet.

Less a storm then, more the tide slowly rising up and taking what it wanted. There was only suffering in its wake.

 

[Irella Toldreyn]

Nar Shaddaa, 'The Chasm', Somewhere Terrible, No Doubt, Undetermined Time
Can't Talk It Out? | Interacting with [member="Ronan Vizsla"] ~ Wolves Without Teeth ~ "Tearing into me, without teeth."
——————————————————————

The dormant scholar in her had questions. A lot of them. Like how and why had they in particular been dragged down here to engage in this visceral bloodsport? Sure, she was between places, but that wasn't an excuse to drag her out of the slums and into this nightmare. At the very least, least her horrifying ally seemed to be finding some pleasure in it. She couldn't say she sympathized with the passion; a cold, empty feeling of necessity filled her whole being from toes to hairline as her own makeshift weapon came down on an assailant's shoulder. Irella was fit, but not nearly as strong as Ronan, she couldn't manage such feats of strength like fracturing bone without a little help. Still entirely unsure of Ronan's persuasion when it came to the Force-- Enough people on this damn planet were self-proclaimed Jedi hunters, it'd just be her luck to have one such killer in a grudge match with her --she kept it minimal. Putting a bit more force behind a strike to send the attacker to the ground, followed with a surprisingly brutal kick right to the jaw once he was down. He didn't seem keen on getting up.

The grimace on her face now was from her own dependance on this gore-y horrorshow, giving the cameras exactly what they wanted to see. To fall into the trap of this place wasn't what she wanted to do at all, but at the same time, she really preferred being alive. Really, really preferred it.

Her unknown ally could dismantle all he liked with efficiency that bordered on the insane; Irella just went to swipe her next assailant across the face with her 'weapon'.

 

[Ronan Vizsla]

[member="Irella Toldreyn"]

Perhaps the largest difference between Irella and Ronan wasn't just the ferocity with which he tore into their assailants.

But instead the sheer acceptance of the situation that he had in the moment. He didn't worry why he was here, how it happened or when, it didn't matter where he was and there were no questions running from his lips as he snapped knees, gauged out eyes or otherwise left a trail of suffering. Instead Ronan's mind was entirely in the here and now, his body as much a weapon as the conquered shiv clinging between fingers that seemed more like contoured claws.

There was efficiency of movement.

Every gesture made brought pain and brought purpose.

Until finally Ronan was done. Surrounded by crawling and ruined men, but alive. He breathed hard and his eyes closed for a moment. Trying to find a center within that destruction. Reminding himself that this was pleasant, yes, but it should be in the past.

That there was building to do and that the little voice at the back of his head (why can't we stay here forever?) was treacherous and should be ignored. "Wrong." Ronan finally got out as he rose and watched Irella's work as she finished off her last one. They were disabled, yes, but they weren't destroyed and that made all the difference. "Fight not to disable. Those dead and disabled can't carry your message." He stepped on over a sobbing body towards her.

His face bloody, eyes wild, the point of the shiv gesturing towards her lazily.

"Prey or predator. Choose now, while the choice is yours."

 

[Irella Toldreyn]

Nar Shaddaa, 'The Chasm', Somewhere Terrible, No Doubt, Undetermined Time
Learning To Bloody Her Knuckles | Interacting with [member="Ronan Vizsla"] ~ Throne ~ "So you can throw me to the wolves--"
——————————————————————

Glassy eyes stared back at the one she'd been paired with, an expression of absolute disillusion on her face, hefting her makeshift club down slightly as a stricken-sounding, "What." Slipped from a panting mouth, hair and body caked with sweat and blood and Force-knew-what-else. Part of her tempted to snap, only held back only by the tenuous reassurance they'd make it out of this nightmare relatively whole if they only co-operated.

You saw a certain level of ferocity on this world every day. Degrees of it, across everyone, because this moon wasn't a place for those with good in them. No, this was a kingdom of killers, and if Irella didn't know any better she would have assumed she had just met a king of the sport. It should have scared her; it did, slightly, but she opted to take some peace out of the fact he wasn't turning that shiv on her.

Yet.

His conflict fueled her own, the skin of her palms rubbed raw and beginning to bleed from handling the abrasive material the way she had to deliver the blows she had. Fixable, like all broken things, but that didn't lessen the pain in the moment even as she shoved it away to a dark part of her mind as words started to form again, a little more collected, "There has to be a way out." Not a question, a statement of determination, because she had no intention to die here tonight.

 

[Ronan Vizsla]

[member="Irella Toldreyn"]

Those eyes stared at her.

There were depths there, behind the madness and mania of the moment. The darkness filling and drawing all of it in without hesitation or judgement. Ronan saw it all and there was no part of him that didn't accept what was in front of him at all times. She didn't get it though, didn't understand that it wasn't about getting out. Oh that was the eventual goal. But in moments like these one needed to be able to split the journey up in short and long term goals for survival.

Survive first.

Establish.

Then eventually get out if possible. Even as the rage inside subsided, the blood (not his and his) slowing to a trickle during its glide, those thoughts passed through him before Ronan snorted. "Survival first, Jetti." It was only a guess.

A flip of the coin.

But it was something in her stance, the set of her jaw and her smell that told him.

"We will be left around for a while." His glance went back to the crawlers and the sobbing. Some of them had managed to climb to their feet, limping away, some already gone. There he stretched. "Mm. Need a drink, some bite." A glance towards her again, before Ronan turned around and started walking towards a particular direction. The one the weakest had been limping off towards. He didn't offer her to come with him and didn't tell her not to.

Truth be told he didn't give a chit.

His stomach was rumbling though.

 

[Irella Toldreyn]

Nar Shaddaa, 'The Chasm', Somewhere Terrible, No Doubt, Undetermined Time
Surviving This Chaos | Interacting with [member="Ronan Vizsla"] ~ Throne ~ "--Tomorrow I will come back, leader of the whole pack."
——————————————————————

Irella might have shrunk under that gaze only a few years prior. Now she only stared back, openly, not with defiance but with a nigh-sick and bitter wonderment. Then he said that fateful title and her world grew a little dimmer.

The way her body tensed like a creature caught in the headlights of a speeder only proved his guess correct, and at once her eyes narrowed, cautiously, like she was preparing for the inevitable conflict that was never to come, "I haven't been one of those for years." Perhaps it was justification, perhaps not -- Either way, he was walking off and away after all but assuring the fact that she was not going to see the sky for a while. And for some reason she found herself following.

He hadn't asked, which was why she went. It's not like she had anybody else here to bind herself to (At least until they were out of it, of course) and there were strengths in numbers. Even if that number was just a slight increase from one.

Her own stomach felt a little raw, but she also knew if she ate now she'd be liable to bring it up later in a bout of nausea, which this place seemed to inspire. So perhaps operating on fumes was for the better. She dropped her rock, it hit the ground with a thud and she stepped over the bloodied weapon casually. Most of it wasn't hers, anyways. A thumb trailed over the self-inflicted scrapes on her hand, following close enough behind the person she now realized was more than likely a Mandalorian of some sort to utter, "I'm Irella."

Names might not matter down here, but it was better than stuck calling each other Jetti and Mando.

 

[Ronan Vizsla]

[member="Irella Toldreyn"]

That voice came again and this time it was closer.

Too close.

Her scent washed from fear into contemplation (the concern was there, but her panic was dying down for now) and Vizsla scowled. The last thing that he wanted to do right now was baby-sit a pup while he was hungry and needed to get a lay of the land. Shift. Then he quickly turned on his heels. As expected Irella was paying more attention to herself rather than her surroundings or even the man that she was following in the moment. She didn't walk into him.

Mostly cus four inches between them the edge of his shiv was suddenly kissing the barest hint of her jawline.

"You should pay better attention to where you walk." Ronan cautioned as he leaned in. He kept that control between them, keeping her in place with the hint rather than the nick that drew blood. This close she would smell the copper of blood on him. The honest sweat that smelled clean no matter the grime. "Ronan... Vizsla."

And then the lick of the shiv was gone as he turned around again and resumed his stride.

This time Ronan assumed she'd walk the other way.

No matter who, most had heard of Ronan, Alor of House Vizsla. His reputation was that of madness, of blood and scattered ash. He killed. The Mad Hound. Still, contrary to his reputation he hadn't killed her yet.

 

[Irella Toldreyn]

Nar Shaddaa, 'The Chasm', Somewhere Terrible, No Doubt, Undetermined Time
Making Bad Choices | Interacting with [member="Ronan Vizsla"] ~ Throne ~ "Beat me black and blue; every wound will shape me."
——————————————————————

On second thought, she could have worked with anything, anything, except that.

Her chin recoiled high at the sensation of a weapon drawn against her skin, even a would-be Jedi reduced to the basest sentient instinct when faced with immediate danger; trapped in a mind that cannot decide between turning tail or baring fangs. She didn't need to decide, because he lowered the shiv and kept going, leaving her with a hand at her throat and a newfound sense of dread blooming like a deadly poison. What luck it was of hers, to be stuck in this place with Vizsla, out of every possible person that could have been taken to join this macabre ring of death, it was him.

Stories didn't do his personality justice, that much was certain. Stifling a sigh Irella kicked back into motion, and somehow found the courage to keep following him, this time with a hopefully acceptable chasm of space between them. One thing about her that never changed no matter the passage of time was her absolute inability to perceive a potential threat. Ronan should have scared her plenty more than he actually did.

His voice brought a storm of measured calm and stricken anxiety to her chest and she didn't like it one bit. Didn't like the way it made her proverbial hackles rise. Maybe that was a warning sign she could have listened to, yet still, she followed.

 

[Ronan Vizsla]

[member="Irella Toldreyn"]

The scratch of her boots against the duracrete pulled out a sigh of his own.

It seemed his personality didn't ward off as many as Ronan would have hoped. She kept her distance now and that was enough for him though. It meant that they wouldn't be seen as a pair, which meant that if someone was to jump her... they wouldn't try to involve him in it at the same time. That was plenty for now. They walked for some time, following the bleeding trial of one of the men that Ronan had horribly destroyed. Maybe someone else would have walked away from that.

But Ronan knew something of men.

Hurt them hard enough and they would shy away from you again.

Eventually the rounding streets took them to a set of hovels. They were more like holes inside the thick walls, blankets covering them and serving as doors. The broken man had limped through one and there were more enforcers here.

They were disciplined. Kept their pace there in front of the 'doors', rather than walk towards him. Ronan for his part settled down on a pair of stars that would lead either deeper into the hole, or higher towards the roofs of the makeshift buildings. "There is structure here." He murmured and it might even have seemed like he was talking to her. Maybe part of him was. "Order of some sort. Not completely animals then." That changed the dynamic just a bit.

His glance past the makeshift structures towards the Jetti.

"What use do you have?"

 

[Irella Toldreyn]

Nar Shaddaa, 'The Chasm', Somewhere Terrible, No Doubt, Undetermined Time
Saying Bad Things | Interacting with [member="Ronan Vizsla"] ~ Throne ~ "Every skull will build my throne."
——————————————————————

Use?

For a second Irella didn't know how to reply. Following the trail of literal destruction had been an experience in and of itself. Her attention span was... Jumpy, from the trail of the blood to the man who had caused it to the hopeless around her to the buildings they were forced to call home by whatever sick mind designed this place. Anger was a dark place to tread, but she felt animosity to the ringleaders of this gore show.

"I can heal," That much was true, the way the Force bent to her suggestions to weave skin and bone back together had been something she had the ability to do since a child, her talent, her gift, "Accelerate the body's regeneration better than Bacta." Not even a scar remained, in most cases. A hand slicked back blonde curls out of her eyes, which only served to leave a fresh smear of red across her temple, "Other things. Sense intentions, feel people." Her gaze wandered over Ronan loosely, as if accenting her point. But that was all she deigned to say. There was some more, more complex skills, ones she didn't feel comfortable sharing with this mad dog quite yet.

Out of the rest of this pit, he probably could have done much better than someone like her, she was certain of that.

 

[Ronan Vizsla]

[member="Irella Toldreyn"]

Heal. Sense. Feel.

Useless type of chit in here, especially for him.

Oh, healing in itself would have been a boon to anyone else, but Ronan Vizsla? He extended his palm just a bit and there she would see something. The edge of the shiv that had bit into his skin, when he had yanked it away from those enforcers. There was still a wound there, but it was already closing up. If it had been a larger wound, it would have taken longer. The slash of his side burned, it would be hours before that would approach anywhere near fitness.

But.

"Suppose ya can be distraction." A derisive snort there. "Jetti, what will ya do to get out of here? To see da sky again?"

A glance up towards the deep maw of obsidian above them. They couldn't even see the ceiling from down here. "Will ya murder? Hurt 'em? Whatcha limit, so I dun' have to find out in da field." You had to know what you were working with, before using a tool, no?

Don't use a hammer when you needed a scalpel, vice versa.

 

[Irella Toldreyn]

Nar Shaddaa, 'The Chasm', Somewhere Terrible, No Doubt, Undetermined Time
Damning The Soul | Interacting with [member="Ronan Vizsla"] ~ Throne ~ "The sticks and the stones that, you used to throw, have built me an empire."
——————————————————————

Swallowing the last of her true nervousness, it didn't take much for Irella spit out, "Whatever it takes." Because it was true.

At this moment she wanted nothing more to leave and would snap necks to get there. It was a combination of him, his intimidation, the way he put her at ease and sent her to the edge. The way this place felt of unimaginable tragedy and terror. The conviction in her own mind to so callously take life sent a momentary chill through her, forcing more words out, "I'll kill. But I don't think I can maim." Oh, but couldn't you?

An uncomfortable expression crossed her face, one of inner conflict. Could she really go beyond her own limits, to save her own skin? Or would dying with dignity be better off? No. If she sinned now she would atone later. That thought kept too much dread from her heart.

Unreadable eyes fell on his healing hand with a tinge of curiousity. Sure, there were more ways to heal than just the Force, but these were ones she had yet to witness until now. Vizsla kept surprising her in ways Irella wished he wouldn't.

 

[Ronan Vizsla]

[member="Irella Toldreyn"]

Whatever it took.

Big words that were almost immediately swallowed again when the sheer depth of them resonated with this Irella. It was why Ronan didn't talk much. Words were wind, they flew and bounced around with no control once you let them loose. Dangerous things and they could potentially cut twice as hard. But actions were different.

Nobody doubted an action. You couldn't back away from it no matter how much you wanted, this meant you'd consider it heavily beforehand.

Action... that was what mattered. "You'd take a man's life, but you won't take his limb?" Ronan asked, the point of the shiv aimed at her again.

Indicating as he spoke.

"What logic is that, healer?" It was clear that she wasn't impressing him much.

 

[Irella Toldreyn]

Nar Shaddaa, 'The Chasm', Somewhere Terrible, No Doubt, Undetermined Time
Caught In Greys, Now | Interacting with [member="Ronan Vizsla"] ~ Throne ~ "So don’t even try to cry me a river."
——————————————————————

"Because I don't want them to suffer." She bit out then, a conviction in her gaze, a definite stubborn naivety in Irella that clearly showed that even if her point made little sense, it was one stupidly valid to her nonetheless, "Mercy isn't something lost on me." The grimace on her face as her eyes flashed down to the point of the shiv said it all; impressing him wasn't a goal. Co-habituation, maybe. But a part of her was still grasping onto whatever teachings she recalled from her time in the Praxeum to keep herself from sliding too far down a path she didn't want to go down, and unless their situation magically got even worse, what the Mando thought of her didn't matter as much as whether he was going to leave her for the wolves.

His statement sowed doubt, nonetheless, and her eyes never left the weapon.

 

[Ronan Vizsla]

[member="Irella Toldreyn"]

"Hurt makes strong. Dead is dead." Life was cheap, Ronan knew that, but it surprised him that a healer like her didn't understand that only in the most extreme of situations did a sentient pick for death, when life was just within reach.

They'd go through horror, agony, dimensions of pain, all in an attempt to stay alive.

That is where they had the potential to outgrow themselves. To become stronger than they had been when it all started.

"Ya ever ask em if they want the Jetii mercy, healer? Or ya just assume they want death just cus ya would take the exit rather than live and survive?" Now he dug at her personally. In truth Ronan was hungry, wanted to eat and Jetii had always annoyed him.

The ones that were stupid were the worst though.

Case in point.

 

[Irella Toldreyn]

Nar Shaddaa, 'The Chasm', Somewhere Terrible, No Doubt, Undetermined Time
Shades Of Red | Interacting with [member="Ronan Vizsla"] ~ Blood On My Name ~ "There's a reckonin' a-comin' and it burns beyond the grave."
——————————————————————

To fight among themselves would solve nothing. Irella had her own frustrations, sure, and it really felt like he was just trying to degrade her now, but if they end up in a fight it'd only fuel the cycle of this place and more than likely end with her dying under the surface of Nar Shaddaa. Surprise surprise, Mandalorians and 'Jedi' don't mix, like oil and water, abrasive substances that met in the middle and ticked down to the explosion. Who could have guessed?

The worst part was how much she wanted to concur. The Smuggler's Moon that she'd called home for too long had left her far stronger than she'd have been before, without it. But it had hurt. Nails dug into her injured palms deep as some suppressed ire flared up, her expression shifting to something a little harder and seriously miffed, quite un-Jedi-like, "Fine. I get it, we're not exactly going to be best friends."

"And we don't have to see each other ever again once we're out of this God-forsaken place, but working together is going to be better than working apart. Can we at least agree to that." With an exhale that bordered on being hash, Her steeled gaze shifting from the shiv to Ronan.