Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

Register a free account today to become a member! Once signed in, you'll be able to participate on this site by adding your own topics and posts, as well as connect with other members through your own private inbox!

Smoldering Embers (Open)

"I can't wait to watch you burn."

Mothers warn your sons, the city was a dangerous place; the dark forest of every fairy tale, where the terrible old monster was waiting. Naivety of youth always drove them in, towards the look alike goblins that lured with smiling faces. But beyond the perfume this was no fairy tale: the only lurking demons he knew were white and scarred or wood colored nobles. Innocent recruits like the lost children, bright eyed, motionless in the green eyes as she danced. There were no goblins in this hell, only the few who proclaimed themselves saints among a world of devils.

Navigating the rotted stretch of land was not hard after a while, if you forgot the biggest danger. And that was the demons in ones self...but coming to terms with her inner monstrosities. She had begun to branch out...seeking someone, anyone who could help her.

She had managed to escape...the stench of fire and blood still lingered in the back of her throat as panic settled in the back of the womans mind. The cold air clinging to her skin as golden eyes flashed like embers in the night. Never in her life had she been so humiliated...made into a simple object of obsession. Her people enslaved...children she bore ripped from her very arms.

Fury...fury was all she felt...and as she stumbled in the cold holding her biceps together the woman huffed deeply, her nails digging into her own flesh as the cool breeze wafted upon the skimpily clothed femme as she wandered the open streets of Nar Shaada. Reaching out to those who passed her by often without a glance.

"Mozhesh dopomohty meni?" She begged, her golden eyes flaring with color as yet another simply brushed off her hand and continued on his way. Sharpened fangs would grind against one another as the womans long scaled tail swayed behind her...poised almost in a striking position as her fist balled. "Budʹ laska, meni potribna dopomoha. Vony vzyaly moyikh syniv! YA proshu tebe ... budʹ laska ... dopomozhitʹ" Her words slowed to a steady mutter as she simply stopped in the middle of the sidewalk...the bustle of the city simply passing her along as if she were an insignificant rock in the center of a river...

No one would listen...no one would even look at her seriously with the degrading clothing she wore...the only eyes she could feel were the ones on her back from the heathens who acted as if they had never seen a woman. Fine violet silk along the sides of her body, covering her amble chest from view. Dark colored sleeves along her arms and gold jewelry clinging to her cold skin, red gems strung along her belly and abdomen, golden rimmed leggings and lingerie. Alternatively, it was a finely crafted outfit...for an exotic pet for sale.

But the woman was no slave...death would sooner kiss her lips beforehand. No clothing that decorating her body was by no means a display of her personally...but rather a display of the situation she was in. She needed to find help...but none of the creatures surrounding her seemed to even care, and Shay could not speak their strange language. She was stuck, and quickly getting more and more prone to violent action to get the attention she needed...

Perhaps if she set the city ablaze...

Maybe that would get their attention.

Had to trip before you could tango.



OOC
This thread takes place after Shays escape from an auction to be sold as an exotic pet. You can refer here to see what happened. Since she is...or was a slave she is depicted as so above, the OOC thread that explains what the initial plan is can be found here. Enjoy, and if you want in just jump in. If you want to know something PM myself or post in the OOC thread.
 
CRACK!

Knuckle would strike bone as a man would fall onto the sidewalk, blood pouring from his mouth after the hard blow. The assailant had been fast, almost unnaturally fast. Almost as though he had appeared out of thin air and struck him. All people had seen was the blow, and they would begin to back away. The man on the ground was a known member of the current slave trade here on Nar Shadda, and so a few people stepped forward to intervene on behalf of a business partner. Others shy'd away, not wanting to be involved with slavers. The one who had struck the slaver though, would step forward. He stood at six foot four, with long blonde hair falling down to his back, just behind his shoulders. The man looked to be in his early 20s, though truthfully, he was a bit older then that... He'd been chasing this particular group of slavers throughout several planets, and had split up from [member="Marek S'hadar"] after their half of the mission while each went after the two parties that had split up and hidden on different planets. Where were the others in this party? Well, they were in the alley he had just come out of.

The man had a fair face, complimented by well-kept facial hair, but still very much fair and youthful, complimenting a muscular, warrior's build that wasn't all that well hidden as it would be under a Jedi's robes, when he wore what he did. A simple black leather jacket emblazoned over a blue t-shirt, with black combat pants and boots below. His lightsaber was hidden from view, and his Force presence was hidden as well, so all people saw... Was a smirk as he looked toward them.

"This tightwad and his flunkies ripped me off in another sector. Consider being handed over to officials their comeuppance" He would lie to the crowd with a casual shrug. They wouldn't have reacted kindly to him saying it was Jedi business... A business vendetta was generally more commonly accepted on Nar Shadda. A man, hooded, would walk over, and several others would join him. The Jedi Master would motion to the man on the ground, and then toward the alley, indicating who was to be arrested.

Scoffing as part of the act toward the man on the ground, he would nod toward the hooded men and leave it to them as he would make his way through the crowd, the crowd dispersing as he went until he hit a crowd of walkers who hadn't seen the incident, blending right in... He needed to get to his ship to report back to the Silver Jedi that his half of the mission had been complete, and to check in on Marek to see how his end had gone.

But he would almost collide with someone, and his actual personality came out over the act he'd been holding when he did, as he would grasp the shoulders of whoever he'd almost collided with in [member="Scheherazade Roshanara"] to keep a proper collision from happening. Noting her scantily clad build with a once-over and then shrugging it off, dismissing it as basic Nar Shadda at this point, he would look the woman in the eyes and smile as his hands fell to his sides.

"Sorry about that, I hope I didn't bring you any harm?" He spoke warmly, but gently all at the same time. While she might not understand Galactic Basic, his tone might convey that he was friendly, at the least.
 
Desmond C'artyom was surrounded by five other Chiss. They wore grey nondescript cloaks and sported no obvious weaponry. The Chiss had been on a mission to assemble a gift for the Grand Admiral. Des knew not why [member="Butch Mahan"] had wanted the slaves, which irked the Chiss to no end. As being part of Imperial Intelligence information was his trade. Whatever his reasons the Duros loved the kill. He almost seemed to vicariously worship it. So, as Desmond pondered this he reasoned that this might have something to do with it. Why the man would want slaves so expensive for murder though, was beyond the Chiss.

Following the gang of Imperial Agents were several chained Reptilian creatures, one of the agents even swaddled a babe in his own coat. The Imperials had been assured these Slaves were the most precious money could by. That they were from an almost extinct race, whose beauty was only matched by their ferocity in battle. But, as Desmond and his band of Chiss herded the slaves along he spotted another being of said race. This one scantily clad in silks, probably offering her goods for a steep price. Rare indeed Desmond snorted under his breath. Despite the fact that he had probably been jipped by the slaver he continued on towards the spaceport. Vowing to make the man pay later.

It had been a simple job that was far below his pay grade. But, then again Desmond supposed the Grand Admiral would want this to be kept secret. They reached the spaceport and loaded the slaves into the Rogue Sun. They prodded them like cattle into the cargo area where they were locked inside large shipping containers. Desmond took off his coat and hung it over his arm as he walked to the cockpit. He hung up the suit and keyed in a personal comm frequency he had been given. It transmitted directly to Butch’s personal data pad.

“Sir, your package is secure and we await your arrival. Keeper 1 out,”

[member="Joshua DragonsFlame"]
[member="Scheherazade Roshanara"]
 

Basaba Willamina

A'den and Alor be aliit Willamina
[member="Scheherazade Roshanara"] [member="Desmond C'artyom"] [member="Joshua DragonsFlame"]

The Yaim'la was there, they went around now. With the damage done on Mandalore there was a lot of her sisters out there searching the galaxy. She sat there when there were sounds from the klaxons alerting her. Basaba looked up while she was working there. She started to set the course and if there was a chance of finding something to well take her mind off of it then that would be worth it. The hissing sound as she reattached her arm clenching and unclenching the hand to eject the blade itself from the knuckler was a nice look. She had her armor and her helmet setting up the shockwave generator like on the basilisk war droid in the cargo hold she could use. Her beskad there on her hip with the blade of sorrow she could use when the biot pilot brought the ship down for a landing. The doors opened and the blue grey armor shimmered with the stealth field activating, the taozin making her invisible in the force unless you knew how to see through it.
 
I hated this planet. Its a place where the rules are there are no rules. There is no law other than the weapon you carry, and the reason behind the fight. As much as I hated this planet, it was one of the few that could offer many jobs for me to complete. Either taking out other Cartels, gangs, or collecting on credits that were owed off planet. However, I was here to oversee the man who had been here to sell slaves.

Would I use them? No. Did I like the idea of slaves? No. Were they useful? Yes. There were distinct failures and reasons behind having slaves or people who could serve you in every way possible. Thalia was not with me today. She hated working for people who she believed was morally wrong. Sooner or later, she would have to understand, that there are no morals in the galaxy. Everyone was just using the term to justify the right to do, or to prevent something from happening.

As I walked after the men who were in the group. I smiled lightly as I could see the man come out of the alley and smash the man's face.

What did it take to see men in my employer be beaten by some man in long blonde hair? Nothing. Quite funny actually. Standing in this crowd as the man pointed to have men arrested was quite... stupid? This is planet is corrupted in every level. The law is survival of the strongest, or the cunning. If you were both, then you were. All I could watch was as the man walked away. Running smack into a rather scantily clad woman.

Prostitute? No. Slave? Likely. Why could I tell this? Prostitutes here didn't have clothing that had a crap ton of jewelry. They wore the bare essentials for public view, and would remove all of it for their job. As for this woman? Her clothing was silky almost. Flowing and intricate. If this really was her "uniform" for a prostitute, then she would have been hit on much sooner than now, and would likely have the clothing rent from her delicate frame. The curves of her body were in all the "perfect" sense.

Either this woman was a slave, or she was trying to strut her stuff.

With the man running into the woman, He asked if she was hurt. I shook my head and walked over. Taking off my overcoat, I came a placed it around her shoulders. She was different. Her tail and figure was strange. I had never seen a humanoid with scales unlike the Lizard men of various kinds. This lady was different. A completely different species compared to us.

"You may not have hurt her, but she is troubled. Look at her eyes. Look at her expression and clothing. She is in need. Let's get her off of the street and somewhere not so exposed. Considering you just punched a man's face in, You draw too much attention to yourself."

This woman needed a comfort of some kind. Yet she seemed clearly out of place. I had no clue if she would be able to understand me. I could feel through empathy of the force, how distraught she was. She was confused, angry and down right wrathful. She wanted to put the hurt to someone, and badly. Using this empathy, I tried to make some kind of mental connection. One to calm her, and possibly keep her from blowing up on the sudden advances of two strange men.

"Do you have a place to take her, or will we resort to where I am."

[member="Basaba Willamina"], [member="Desmond C'artyom"], [member="Joshua DragonsFlame"] [member="Scheherazade Roshanara"],
 
Hood up, caramel eyes always scanning for any pickpockets, hand held precariously by the soothing touch of his lightsaber, Crix meandered through the alleys of Nar Shaddaa. It might've been dangerous for a young and naive looking man like him to do so, but he was no newcomer to the streets. He'd been here for years and he'd memorized most of them, which ones to avoid and which ones were considered safe. Well, safer than most.

The youth stepped back towards the walls as heavy and careless footsteps thundered him, thugs who have obviously taken a beating running past a second later. Another gang fight? He didn't know and he didn't care to know. Sighing, he stayed there, well clothed back pressed against the grimy walls, hand dancing over the hidden form of his lightsaber. He sensed the Jedi Master before the man sensed him, or it could've been the other way around. Who knew? The air around the Master was different, soothing and leaching off with the Force's qualities.

It was one of the few things he missed after leaving the Jedi Order. Being surrounded by everyone's quiet but vibrant presence brought him peace, but just not enough peace to actually meditate. That, he still had trouble with doing, and it was one of the reasons he left.

The other presence was small, as she wasn't Force sensitive, but at the same time, it felt different.

With another breathy release, he turned and began treading out of the area.

[member="Basaba Willamina"] [member="Desmond C'artyom"] [member="Joshua DragonsFlame"] [member="Scheherazade Roshanara"] [member="Atheus"]
 
So much has happened in the months she had been locked away...She was still unsure how it had happened, though perhaps it was some instinctive defense mechanism, initiated by her fear of the evils committed by the strange creatures of this world. What the monsters had done in her absence made her that much more afraid for her life and those of her people...and her children...gods her unborn was in the hands of the devil. Helplessly fallen into the reaper's jaws.

It was nervous energy which had her wandering aimlessly about the filth of a planet, hoping that she would find some sign, have some epiphany, which might show her where she had to go, what she had to do...anything. She was by no means a mighty being capable of overcoming all in her path, this she knew, but she would be damned if she sat back and did nothing. At the very least, she might be able to nip at someone else's heels and force them to act, to find some solution to the Drava' collective problem.

Shay wore a somber expression as she stepped cautiously about the sidewalk, concentrating quite hard on what laid before her. The woman was unsure where to even begin. It was obvious no one was going to help her, and thus she was beginning to resort to her own methods of solving problems.

They had meddled with a mother and her babes. A dragoness with vicious savagery and now they would all feel her wrath. She was the Matriarch of her people, bringer of war and fire. She killed for so much less and for every creature that didn't so much as spare her a glance her fury only began to boil.

If they would not listen by choice...then she would make them listen by force. Her golden gaze focused intensely as her slitted reptilian eyes dilated, exhaling a breath as smoldering cinders escaped her very nostrils through a huff of anger. And when a man clashed into her the red haired maiden was pushed off balance, stumbling to the side and making her catch herself against a pole. Her expression twisting into a scowl as steam and smoke emanated from her very being. Generating heat from her hands as she squeezed the pole firmly...her hands slowly melting through the flimsy metal as she attempted to contain the growing desire to lay waste to all before her. The blonde mans words never even registered to the red haired dragoness.

Slowly she looked over her shoulder at the blonde man...her reptilian gaze narrowed upon him as she turned to face the man with a posture that screamed aggression. Open flames along her hands as her long serpent-like tail swayed behind her, its spiked tip poised upward as if prepared to strike as she spoke.

"YA spalyu yikh. YA spalyu yikh usikh!" She would ask, balling her fist as the flames intensified with each passing second. "Hrishnyky, vse z nykh. YA peretvoryty yikh na popil!" She hissed, preparing to strike the man until suddenly...something warm was placed over her shoulders. Her eyes going wide for a split second as her tail reacted instinctively, positioning itself behind her as its bladed end pressed itself along the body who whoever stood behind her.

Still though...her mind settled if not but slightly...her eyes looking back to see an odd figure looking down at her with a seemingly calming gaze that had made the flames that bathed on her hands dwindle. She grimaced at the feeling, looking back at her open hands and then back up at the blonde man who seemed to stare at her.

The man behind her spoke, yet again the language she knew nothing of. Her tail remained positioned at his neck...a simple defense that she did not feel comfortable lowering. Still...she closed her hands and dismissed the divine fire from her palms. Reaching up and taking the jacket that had been given to her and pulling it together to cover herself. Her expression tight with hate and disdain as she averted her gaze to the floor, exhaling hot steam into her hands to keep herself warm.

She had been defused...or at least stalled. After all, it was hard to predict when a time bomb would go off when it had no clock.


[member="Atheus"]
[member="Basaba Willamina"]
[member="Desmond C'artyom"]
[member="Joshua DragonsFlame"]
 

Butch Mahan

Si vis pacem, para bellum
Following the transmission, a Consular Class Cruiser appeared in orbit, approaching the Rogue Son. The Grand Admiral had waited a few parsecs outside the planet's orbit, nearby another planetary body, before coming to this place. Not only being such a high rank in the Imperial military machine, but also a High Moff on the Moff council in the Imperial Remnant, he could not rear his ugly mug just anywhere. It was much safer to stay in hiding, protected by Imperial troops, and let drones do his dirty work.

But the detour was easily forgotten, over the next few days would begin the annual ritual of the Ni'Shaw-Dak, a religion of which he was apart of. He had taken out leave for the six rotations and the extra two rotations before it began to acquire his sacrifice. On the planet of V'shar, normally the sacrifice would be a vicious predator, hunted by a grand warrior, or a local heretic, taken down by a true Dak. But Mahan wished for a good, blessed year under the wrath of Ni'Shaw, and thus he would make one of the most sacred sacrifices. The younglings of infidels, the unholy spawn of blasphemic peoples. These sacrifices were prized by the war God Ni'Shaw to prove not only your devotion to himself, but your loyalty to the eternal army of Ni'Shaw. Of course there were far more than just the spilling of blood on the holy soil of V'shar, the week of Ni'Shaw Alm consisted of three chapters, as described in the three Volumes of Truth. Starvation, Torment, and The Offering. All of which would be observed by Mahan this year.

When the ship's commanding officer, Lieutenant Commander Hiszass received the transmission from the Rogue Son, Mahan was pouring over some potential offensive strategies for Remnant capital vessels. Over the ship's intercomm, the commanding officer spoke, "The Rogue Sun has transmitted the message, Grand Admiral. Preparing jump to hyperspace on your orders." Mahan stood up from the retrofitted holotable and spoke on the wall panel nearest him, "Make your jump, commander." Without a response, the cruiser readied its hyperdrive system.

The jump only took a moment, due to its proximity to the planet already. The solid grey cruiser popped into orbit only three klicks from the Rogue Son's position. Within a fraction of a minute, the CO sent a transmission to the Imperial Intelligence vessel, inviting them to board the Grand Admiral's transport. Awaiting the couriers he had sent, Mahan attended the air lock, not only to thank the Intelligence officers for their discreetness, but to examine his specimens.

[member="Scheherazade Roshanara"]
[member="Crix Halcorr"]
[member="Atheus"]
[member="Basaba Willamina"]
[member="Joshua DragonsFlame"]


OOC
This is not a holiday/ritual specified in legends or canon. This is of my own concoction, all of its rules are of my design. Just to ensure continuity.
 
Of course, the officials making the arrests had been from the planet the slavers had been doing the crimes on originally... Which slavery was illegal on. All Josh had done was notify them of the slavers' presence in Nar Shadda after they got away. That's as much as he'd tell people anyway... Truthfully, the story was true, except it was a Jedi mission. Nothing more. These really were officials from the planet, but he hadn't been ripped off at all... He was just doing his job. But Nar Shadda was Nar Shadda...

He did not flinch, or get into a stance when [member="Scheherazade Roshanara"] would suddenly lash out as she did. It was clear she was not a human woman, but some kind of draconic creature. But he didn't move. Instead, he remained calm, relaxed... Calm, and collected as he would watch her, watching her every move with intention of only attacking when he had no choice. While he hadn't thought to try to sense it before, he could sense great fear from her... Distresss, and rage.... She was afraid, but why? He'd only tried to prevent a collision within a crowd. He watched the fire dance between her fingers in her rage...

[member="Atheus"] would step in, placing a jacket on her shoulders and speaking toward him. The woman at least seemed somewhat calmer... Hopefully enough to keep her calm while they could move her and try to piece together what was going on. She clearly did not speak Basic, so they had their work cut out for them.

"My ship it is" He would speak calmly toward the man, before turning to face the woman again, lifting one of his hands and allowing fire to dance between his fingers in front of her, smiling lightly. Like her, he was also a pyrokinetic. He was hoping that perhaps, it would indicate he was a friend, showing that they were two of a kind in some fashion. She didn't speak basic, and tone of voice seemed to do nothing. As the man had shown... Only actions seemed to work.

He would motion for them to follow as he would begin making his way back toward the hanger bay. He did not trust either of them... And would be sure to take proper precautions. But he could at least try to help someone in need.

[member="Butch Mahan"]
[member="Crix Halcorr"]
[member="Basaba Willamina"]
[member="Desmond C'artyom"]
 
The woman was fluent with flames. Even more so as I could see out of my peripheral vision, the shape of what could only be the woman's tail. The barbed end was a tool of war. The woman may seem smaller in frame, but she clearly had a very strong muscular structure. Either she had been used for labor, performed labor, or knew how to fight and honed her body to defend herself if need be. However, this didn't seem to match with the slave idea. Was it possibly she was tricked into her current state? I had no idea as the words she spoke were completely foreign to me.

However, The man before me released his true nature. A force sensitive. Flames danced upon his hand. Like I hadn't seen that before. An old and long gone mentor of mine was a Master Shaper of Kro Var. Let alone, he lived in a bloodline of shapers that could produce fire to extreme levels. Why would this man flaunt this kind of power out in public on a world such as this? Clearly he was not a Sith. His fine skin, and clear care for his body proved he had no real "taint" of the dark side.

At the very least, he was grey, or like me. One who kept the darkness hidden, and caged. Coming out around the woman's side, I kept my hands away from her for the moment. Showing that I wasn't intending to harm her. Once more, throwing emotions at the woman that I was safe. There was no need for me to threaten her. I would gain nothing from it. However, I knew that this man was curious of me, and my own involvements. Stating that his ship would do.

Not so much wanting to join him on a ship, If I was being walked into a trap, then he could easily do so. I had to be careful of the man. I looked every bit of the part of a Mercenary. Having a Tir stunner blaster on my right thigh holster, and a rifle hanging in a sling on my back, The only thing different was my rather strange metal arm that looked more like metallic flesh, than a skeletal limb. My lightsaber was hidden on my body. Away from prying eyes. However, as much as this man suspected me, I am sure he could clearly tell I was not your average merc.

I looked down at the womans hands as the man motioned for us to follow him. She was releasing steam, and using the fire rather close to her body. She was attempting to warm herself. I smiled lightly behind my mask. As she was standing on my left side, I reached out with my arm. My left arm. Watching it and motioning her to watch. Slowly the metallic metal seemed to darken in color and become a deep burned red.

Just the forearm was turning this deep hue as I presented it before her. I showed to hug my arm. She seemed cold. And with fire around her, and steam, the woman seemed resilient to the flames themselves, but needed heat to survive. Clothing like the one getup she wore would not be enough. Speaking up to the man ahead of us as we walked onward,

"The woman is cold. We need to prepare some kind of emergency blanket or get her into a warm room."

Since we couldn't make any kind of verbal contact with the woman, the best course of action was to have some form of communication between the two of us. Trying to understand one another, so we don't have to argue over stupid crap, and make sure we get what this woman needs.

[member="Joshua DragonsFlame"], [member="Butch Mahan"], [member="Scheherazade Roshanara"], [member="Crix Halcorr"], [member="Basaba Willamina"], [member="Desmond C'artyom"],
 
Desmond C’artyom walked along the length of the cargo containers as the ship floated on autopilot. He opened one of the crates and watched as the slaves huddled in the corner, as if hiding from the light. He motioned for two of the Chiss to stand guard at the entrance as he brought forth a bucket of gruel. Des cautiously walked deeper into the bowels of the container.

“Grubs on,” He said as he slowly set the bucket down and kicked it over to the slaves.

A few looked at the bucket and he noticed a few tongues taste the air hungrily.

“Foul creatures,” He said under his breath as the prisoners slowly moved to the bucket and dipped their hands in. Then he noticed one in the back. It refused to move from the corner and seemed to be shielding something. Des produced a stun baton from his hip and cautiously moved towards the beast. With one arm extended he slowly made his way to the being while making cooing noises.

“I won't hurt you, what have you got?” He said softly. As he came near the animal it bit him. Hard. His cybernetic fingers gave off a soft whir as circuits broke beneath the force of the reptilians bite. “Why you little!” Desmond swung hard with his baton and clubbed the creature over the head. It fell to the floor with a thud and a small orb rolled out from its arms. Desmond gave the lizard a kick for good measure then curiously looked to the ball shaped thing. He picked it up with his free hand. Upon closer inspection he found it to be an ornate egg covered in scales and leather.

“How barbaric. They lay eggs,” He said softly.

He was thinking about what to do with it when one of the Chiss guarding the entrance called out to him. “Sir we are approaching the Grand Admiral’s vessel now,” Docking procedures between two vessels were not best handled by an AI as it required a deft hand and no small amount of attention. So, Des made his way out of the container egg in hand. The guards closed the container behind Desmond and he entered the cockpit. He placed the egg in his co pilot seat and carefully began to maneuver his ship for boarding.

“Men dawn your nicest uniforms, we will be in the presence of a High Moff,” Desmond announced over the intercom as the two ships finished pressurizing their air locks. Desmond walked to his cramped quarters and rummaged through his locker. He undressed from his grey stealth cloak and threw his dress blues on. He set the egg down on his bed and as an afterthought placed a heating lamp over it. “Stay warm little guy,” He said to the egg before he left.

He and crew assembled at the airlock and stood at attention. All were dressed in their finest uniform and groomed to exact regulation. It wasn’t everyday you had a High Moff aboard your ship...

@Atheus @Joshua DragonsFlame [member="Butch Mahan"] [member="Scheherazade Roshanara"] [member="Crix Halcorr"] [member="Basaba Willamina"]
 
She remembered the fire...oh yes, the flames that engulfed her homeworld on that fateful day. Beautiful pandemonium as her world crumbled and descended into ash...gods, if the sight had not been so horribly she may of relished in the sight. She remembered the battle...the heavy noise that sounded like the beating of wicker drums, cheering screams, smoky air laden with the metallic aroma of fresh blood. Oh how the memory of war possessed her dreams...caressed her very thoughts and settled her weeping heart.

And her world gone...her people gone...children...gone...she could only feel anguish and yet...satisfaction.

Yes...she felt satisfied with this. Satisfied with her current situation. Because in the end she knew how this game was played...she knew just how it would end.

With the complete destruction...of all that stood in her path.

And speaking of paths...eyes were on her now. Guttural, mocking, the obscuring voices drifting out of the crowd like a sluggish phantom that momentarily seized her growing hysteria. The gathering crowd...feasting their gaze upon the sheer spectacle of her defused fury. Cautious in their eyes, and yet, she supposed it held a purpose, something she'd begrudgingly admit later on down the line that had aided her to be able to come through most of this experience as placidity began to slip like a sedative through her careening frame, as her impassioned heart quieted and the snarling savagery of the fiery beast came to heel with the calming regard of cunning calculation.

She could not...waste...time.

They wanted a battle...she would bring them war. And as the two men beside her spoke among themselves Shay lowered her hand. Running her fingers over her womb as her golden eyes began to burn violently.


"... Et ponam ardere me invenies." She would utter as her gaze steadied ahead of her. No more running...no more hiding!

Heat generated from her very being as she exhaled smoke and embers from her nostrils. The fire in her soul grew ablaze and her body combusted into flames. The jacket that had been placed upon her shoulders going up in smoke as it was reduced to nothingness.

The fire consuming her grew higher and higher...heat radiated as the crowd around the three separated and backed away from the burning creature who had set herself ablaze.

Her hands balled into fist as her gaze flicked from left to right. She would find them...she would save them. Even if she had to burn down all that stood in her way, she would get them back! Every man woman and child involved would feel her fury, every pathetic creature who turned a blind eye would suffer as her children had.

Only one question remained to the mother...a question that was so simple to answer she found it inconceivably difficult.

Who would be the first to burn?


[member="Butch Mahan"]
[member="Atheus"]
[member="Basaba Willamina"]
[member="Desmond C'artyom"]
[member="Joshua DragonsFlame"]
 
He generally knew not to use his Force powers more openly in places like this... Only subtle-ly and when it was needed. He thought this was a time that it was needed. His intent had been simple and easy to tell, even for an amateur. The woman was not able to communicate in Galactic Basic, but did emit flames quite often. Using flames of his own, even just as a signal, might serve as a means to communicate to the creature that he was not an enemy, nor one that meant to bring her harm... But a friend.

But it was all for naught.

He didn't even get a chance to answer [member="Atheus"] when she would burst into flames, seeming ready to attack... But as others would back away, he did not. Instead, he stared at her calmly.

His hands no longer ignited, he would close his eyes, and try the same trick that the other Force User had tried before... But he tried to be a little more aggressive with it. He would try to have his consciousness touch hers, try to reach her directly through the force... He tried to touch her mind with his own.

And when he seemed to find something, he would project his thoughts to her, as best he could. He tried his best to get past her anger, and rage, and fear... And show that he meant her no harm.

That he was her friend. That he wanted to help.

He would reach out a hand toward her, offering to her to take it. Many people around would consider him crazy, he knew... But he wanted to try to end this without bloodshed.

No... No try...

Do or do not...

There is...

No try...

[member="Scheherazade Roshanara"]
 

Butch Mahan

Si vis pacem, para bellum
Butch chuckled as he strode aboard the Rogue Sun, gazing upon the several similarly dressed Chiss men, all of whom apart of Imperial Intelligence. He knew he could trust these men to do his dirty work, and now he could easily begin his pilgrimage to V'shar, the homeworld of the universe as created by Ni'shaw. As he entered, he gave the agents a brisk salute, breaking it with a handshake to each man, his own form of gratitude in performing his little task with discreetness, even from the Remnant itself. In his experience with the Remnant, things such as Mahan's own religion did not tend to pan out well with the majority of the Imperial military command and Moff council, a seeming barbaric practice in use by own of the very elite command triumvirate. But as long as he kept his religious beliefs and rituals off the records and only between whispers, his political opponents would be given less flak to use against him.

After giving his small gratitude to the Chiss agents, Mahan turned towards to his most trusted of all the Imperial Intelligence directors and agents alike in the Remnant, Special Agent [member="Desmond C'artyom"]. Within recent months, Mahan had recruited him as his own eyes and ears within the Intelligence community, and as his hush hush man when he needed it. With political enemies such as the director of the intelligence branch itself, Mahan needed his own loyalties in a variety of areas, not only his own branch of the military.

The Grand Admiral spoke briskly to the special agent, "C'artyom, I trust you have my special cargo?" Mahan emphasized the word special. Although slavery was not technically illegal in the Imperial Remnant, it was by far looked down upon in the higher echelons of the Remnant's military and government, a barrier which eventually would be taken down, but as of modern day stood as a barrier in Mahan's practices. He did not want to be too blatant, even though all parties present knew what he was talking about, it was best to keep the element of secrecy in their operations, you never knew who was listening when things were off the record such as this.

[member="Joshua DragonsFlame"]
[member="Cinder Rose"]
[member="Atheus"]
[member="Crix Halcorr"]
[member="Basaba Willamina"]
 

Users who are viewing this thread

Top Bottom