Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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SO, we meet again... FOR THE LAST TIME!

Jak Sandrow

"Nobody cares for the woods anymore."
Elijah touched down precisely on the landing platform. As he got up and left the cockpit, he suddenly remembered that he had crashed, and must be dreaming.

"...ohh, my head..." Waking up from the control panel where he had made an impromptu pillow, he felt over his face for any major injury. Nothing aside from a broken ego. Well, that was repairable. He just needed to find out how he was going to get off this cesspool of a planet.

Closing his eyes, he let himself go green. Using that new awareness of life around him, he expertly determined that the correct direction to go was that-a-way.

Heading off with a spring in his step, he decided to make the most of the situation.

@[member="Sarge Potteiger"]
@[member="Elijah Rowlin"]
With a grunt and a wet thump, the last of the corpses was put onto the pile, and newly black eyes drifted upward to admire, albeit begrudgingly, the damage he had done. What had become of HK and his company, Sarge wasn't sure, but judging by the sheer amount of OmegaPyre bodies lying around... it hadn't turned out well.

All their dogtags were collected and kept in a pouch on his waist, but his clothing was torn, ragged, and his body had long since been caked in dirt. He'd been roaming this inhospitable karkhole of a world ever since the undead had gone back to their eternal slumber, but he'd yet to find a way off planet.

Now, now he looked like some wayward tribesman; skin stained with dirt, hair matted. In general, to call him 'disheveled' would be to do a disservice to just how unkempt he was.

But that was life. Sighing as he picks up his scratched and pitted rifle, the man dips his head in respect to the fallen before moving off and into the woods. That was his legacy on this world... a pile of corpses. A testament to a man who was far too stubborn to ever die in a place like this.

But he was forgotten, he knew that. He'd stopped caring though. Now he just wanted a ride off planet.

Jak Sandrow

"Nobody cares for the woods anymore."
Elijah was lost. Understatement. He was worse than lost. He was nowhere.

Stopping to catch his breath, he checked his supplies.

One pistol, 12 shots left, but 2 extra mags. One Chewy-Chunky-Glop-of-Fudge bar. A water bottle. Two climbing hooks. And a knapsack. So, enough to last him a week at most, provided he could constantly get sunlight. Being a half-plant (mostly plant) had its perks.

But something was off. In this world of teeming life, there was... something else. Not dark, just... rotten. Something that didn't belong. Something that had been very present here, but now was little more than an annoyance.

And he smelled death on the wind.

Turning into the wind, he jogged toward the smell.


Corpses. Corpses everywhere. And not all of them human. Some were alien, some were human, there were a few droids... and something...else...

Were these the zombies?

Apparently so.

So... now what?

Wait... there was something else. Not another presence in the Force... rather, a lack of a presence.

Which on Dagobah was not common.

So he decided to set out after it, like any stupid person would do.
The curious thing about Force Dead individuals is that it took a lengthy period of time before one could, in fact, spot their absence. Cira had only just recently started to learn where he was by the void he created, while some others still couldn't quite find him. It was something often called Vong-sense, and it was almost as rare as the ability to be considered Force dead.

But that was neither here nor there, for now, Sarge was heading towards the small hut he'd made for himself and from where he'd been operating. Stepping inside, the crackle of the fire telling him it needed fresh wood, he set his rifle against the wall and frowned as he smelled something... familiar come with the wind.

It was a smell he couldn't place due to the combination of smoke, death and brimstone, but it was enough to briefly catch his attention. Snapping something in the Vong tongue, a snake-like creature slithered it's way from under a pile of wood and headed into the wilderness.

Sitting himself by the fire, watching the door, he figured it was time to play the waiting game.

@[member="Elijah Rowlin"]

Jak Sandrow

"Nobody cares for the woods anymore."
To be true, it would be difficult. If the individual in question was among things that didn't react.

The absence of Force was also repelling the Force-sensitive objects around it, similar to a magnetic field.

Regardless, whatever it was, it had stopped moving, and just like a wind in the grass, the Force settled to normal.

Elijah had lost the scent.

"Well, kriff."

Bending over, he stopped again to catch his breath. Grabbing a sip of water, he decided to head in the approximate direction of where he thought the void might be.

@[member="Sarge Potteiger"]
Not being able to be sensed through the Force was not similar to a magnetic field in any way, shape or form. But none of that was on Sarge's mind at the moment.

Regardless, Sarge's companion beast was back a few moments later, slithering it's way up and along the entrance of the hut on the inside. Raising a brow, the man set his back against the wall and waited. Smoke had a way of drawing attention, after all.

Jak Sandrow

"Nobody cares for the woods anymore."
That was why Elijah was not a master of the Force.


Smoke. He smelled smoke.

Just a whiff on the breeze, but a whiff nevertheless.
"Hrn. That's interesting."

Heading in the smell's general direction, he topped a rise, and saw a little plume of smoke rise from the swampy forest mess that was Dagobah.

Picking up his pace, he headed to where the smoke rose...

A hut. Looking over his shoulder, he thought there was more... there wasn't...

Shrugging, he went up to the door, quite brashly, and knocked politely.
"Let yourself in, it's just wood.", grunts a rough voice from within. The voice wasn't his own, not anymore. Something about the atmosphere around here made him sound like a career alcoholic and chain smoker. Part of him hoped it would clean up once he was off planet, but for now... he sounded like a cancer patient.

Jak Sandrow

"Nobody cares for the woods anymore."
Opening the door, he stood in the frame for a moment, letting his eyes adjust to the near-darkness.

"Nice place you got here," he said, gesturing to the humble but obviously comfortable living area. "Better than what I got."

And that was true as well.

He turned to look at the other man.

Jak had never seen the face of Sarge Potteiger. Not even on... that day... and the voice was completely unrecogniseable. As was Elijah's. Elijah had altered his voice along with his body, enough that only a slip of the tongue could fully give him away. Still... he may have forgotten something else...

Jak Sandrow

"Nobody cares for the woods anymore."
"Ehh, bit of both. I'm travelling because I'm stuck here. For now. I crashed about... a day or two ago, and I have no idea where to go. My provisions all got mushed, so I'm left with little more than the skin and clothes on my back. You?"

As there was nowhere to sit down, he moved in through the door to lean against a wall of his own, gratefully putting his pack down.
"Join the club. Been here for weeks, ever since that whole weird thing with the undead." The scruffy man sighs, running a hand through matted here. "Ain't got noway off the planet." Sighing, he sits himself back down and rests his hands atop his knees.

"You at least have a comm unit we can boost to get a message off planet?"

Jak Sandrow

"Nobody cares for the woods anymore."
"So it was true..." he murmured under his breath.

"Not really, but I might be able to scrap something from my ship... if I can find it again. I always carry a personal comm, but the batteries are almost toast, and it's short-range only. The one on the ship should be sufficiently powerful, though. Provided we can get it running."

@[member="Sarge Potteiger"]
"Right, well, we'll retrace your steps. Should be an Inimica somewhere towards the south we can scavenge from for parts if we need to." After the hasty retreat the Omegans had beat due to what Sarge could only assume was a tactical blunder, some vessels had been left behind as they blockade fleet prevented any means of retrieving them.

The destroyed elements of said fleet still hung in orbit, floating like some monument to the sins of the galaxy that had brought destruction on this unpopulated world. A shame to think of how many people of all stripes had been killed. "It was pretty nasty down here, although from what I gathered most of the fighting took place on the moon and in orbit."

Sighing, the man stands and moves to the door, picking up a bolter that had obviously seen far better days. Dried blood still caked it from the last owner, but there was no shortage of ammo to go around right now since the Pyre hadn't really gotten a chance to expend their resources before they had met whatever fate had been in store. Sighing, he flicks his head and pushes open the door.

A faint noise escapes his throat and a Vong amphistaff slithers it's way along the wall and around the man's leg, curling upwards until it got to his arm where it wrapped itself firmly around his bicep. "Lead away, stranger. I'd ask your name, but I don't really care. Too many dead here for me to be personable."

Jak Sandrow

"Nobody cares for the woods anymore."
"Alright. I'll do my best to remember..."

As the stranger recalled the battle that had been fought here, Elijah nodded at all the right spots, taking the information in. As the man went to get his bolter, the shape of Omega Pyre's distinctive gun sparked something in Elijah's head. He had seen that gun before.

Having been mindwiped by the Vagrant Fleet, a good portion of his past was gone, but the distinctive shape of the bolter was irreplaceable in his mind.

So he's Omega... interesting... Making no comment on the matter, he headed out the door as the snake-thing made its way to the man's arm.

"Not a problem, I don't exactly have a name. And I'm not about to ask yours." He began to follow what he had seen, turning back frequently to try to remember his steps.

"It's a good ways out, I'd assume. Unless I've been walking in circles," he explained to the man. "I had no idea where I was going; I still don't."

@[member="Sarge Potteiger"]
Jak would have only been half right. Sarge had been Omega, but he'd never used a bolter. His own weapon had been stripped from him and he'd been unable to find it, so he'd simply taken a weapon from a dead soldier with no need for a gun anymore. "Probably a good idea to not ask my name; sometimes I forget it. It's been a long couple of weeks."

Sighing, the man shakes his head. "You didn't think to mark the trees with a blade as you moved? Mark where you came from? That's a basic survival skill. I'm honestly surprised you haven't been eaten by something yet." Shaking his head, the black eyed man sighed again and motioned for Jak to get going.

As they walked, however, he pulled out a scavenged blade and began scratching marks into tress and other landmarks so they'd know where they came from - he'd know how to get back to his makeshift hut, but getting back to the man's ship again if they found it would prove difficult without it.

"You should, perhaps, invest in survival training if we get off this rock."

Jak Sandrow

"Nobody cares for the woods anymore."
"Yeah....okay." And so the awkward conversation topic was discarded.

He shrugged. "Don't have a blade. Only a pistol with a few shots left. And I kinda want to save those for an emergency. I didn't think the planet would be this uninhabited. By self-aware life, anyway," he said, gesturing to the snake...thing.

"Yeah, no kidding," he said, only half-sarcastically. "I have about zero training. In everything. I know how to shoot a gun, and use a sword. Not one of those fancy lifesavers the Jedi use, or whatever. I mean, give me a well-made, well-weighted sword, and I could stand toe to toe with a Mando, I bet."
The man's eyes dropped to the snake, "That's not native.", he says, eyeing the Vong bioweapon with a careful eye. It had been happenstance that he'd stumbled across polyps left over from a crashed vessel, and it had been pure happenstance that he'd known how that it was his only chance to tame one of these beasts.

Or, at least, he'd hoped it had been happenstance.

Part of him was still in denial about his connection to the Vong. "Mandalorians don't favor swords, really, so probably. They tend towards ranged weapons, more than anything. Hardly a feat of strength. If ya can use a lightsaber use a lightsaber; things are probably the best weapon you'll ever get your hands on. No weight, so they won't tire you out. Blade of plasma, will cut through pretty much anything. About the only downside is it makes an annoying humming noise that sets your teeth on edge."

Shrugging, he kept walking behind the stranger, hoping they found a way to his ship soon.

Jak Sandrow

"Nobody cares for the woods anymore."
"Oh. Okay."

He continued peering into the brush and muck ahead, alternating looking forward, and turning back to remember the way. "Huh. I thought all Mandos liked these besker swords. Or something. I was given a lightsaber once, by my best friend; nearly chopped his arm off. I'm so used to a sword, when I tried the weightless blade, it was like swinging the handle of the sword. And with a handle, you don't have to be careful."

He sighed. "I kinda want to learn to use one, but I'm apparently 'too old', or I'm 'not skilled enough', or whatever. Whatever." He was only making idle conversation; how was he supposed to know the man behind him was Force-dead?
"They're more ceremonial than anything; hardly practical to mass produce swords made of one of the rarest metals in the galaxy." Barking a laugh, the stranded man simply shook his head. "You're still young, trust me. You can learn. Only person stopping you is you. You didn't succeed on the first try so you gave up; that's no way to live."

Smirking, he remembered just how bad he'd once been. It had once been a joke that he was unable to finish a mission concious because he kept getting wounded or otherwise incapacitated. Every 'great' started somewhere, and some journeys took longer than others, but you had to get beyond the first few steps to realize your potential.

"Just try to learn, and don't give up. There's a reason lightsabers are a symbol of prestige. If you could just pick one up and use one there'd be nothing special about having one."

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