Private Special Delivery: A Deadly Game

[Itzhal Volkihar]

| Location | Axxila, Outer Rim Territories

Towering smokestacks punctured the skyline of Ralia, releasing plumes of grey that merged with the clouds, while the clamour of bustling streets filled the air with the sound of progress, incessant beeps and the hum of repulsorlift engines rattling in the skylanes above and below. Wherever one looked, the city flowed with relentless activity, a desire never to stop, to never settle. It was remarkable, as it was tiring to look at it. The vibrant pulse of a world constantly on the edge of greatness, or tearing itself apart.

Today, it was a little closer to the latter.

Itzhal Volkihar turned his gaze from the inverted skyline, where dagger-sharp rooftops gleamed in the artificial light, and skyscrapers dangled from the endless horizon of durasteel that covered the ceiling, metallic stalacities frozen in time, ignored by the civilians that walked the streets below. Never once questioning the disaster that could occur if the intertwined mess of repulsorlifts and gravity manipulations faltered, perhaps, though it was the only way they coped? Personally, he couldn't help but feel the relief in his stomach as he entered the cargo hangar; the grime-ridden walls, splattered in an unfortunate shade of crimson, restricted to a more sane grasp of reality.

The tangy, metallic scent of blood hung thickly in the air, clinging to the grates of the air-condition units in the walls, chugging along with slow laberous breaths that caught on the dust clogging their filters; yet, their was no sign of the bodies that must have spilt gallons, only the trail of crimson that sprawled along the floor and walls, marked with metal plates, torn to ribbons by serrated points that could have been archraic vibroblades, or terrible teeth. His boots stepped around a crater, the scraped remains of an armoured torso embedded within, their limbs twisted inwards—at least for those few that remained—there wasn't much of the battered battle droid.

In the centre of the room, an old Correllian model, a medium-sized freighter in an ugly wedge shape, was dropped to a set of three standing legs; sparks fluttered from the noose of cables that hung from the absence of the fourth.

"I hope you've got something for me," Itzhal remarked, his visor panning slowly across the crime scene.

Tags: Athena Faar​

 

[Athena Faar]

​

Tag: Itzhal Volkihar

Athena was raised in the jungles of Haarun Kal. She requested to Protect regions more rural and remote within the expanding empire. So the ecumenopolis of Axxila was unsettling. The bizarre layout of the city-planet didn't help. The place was chaos. But the boss pulled her into this one with him, and Athena complied. The old Aruetti soldier in her knew to follow orders.

There were reports of something terrible happening in one of the older docking complexes, a small one used by smaller cargo vessels. Details were scarce. No one seemed to have seen anything... and lived.

Itzhal had directed Athena to enter the cargo hanger from another entrance, one higher that opened to a metal grate walkway half-way up the high walls that ran along all four walls and overlooked the open bay. Several rooms sat perched on beams along the walkway. The place was old, or maybe poor upkeep just made it appear so.

The dragon rider stepped out onto the walkway, peering down over the rail at the freighter below. She spotted Itzhal, as well as the various dark spattered stains that puddled in the duracrete and metal plate flooring. Then she moved along the walkway to one of the rooms. The door was battered, hanging askew, a large portion marred as if crushed between an arch of teeth. Whether metal or otherwise she couldn't say.

Instinctivly she drew a blaster.

Inside was more blood. A window looking out into the bay was broken. The walls, the floor, several crates and a console of controls were coated in dark blood. There was debris scattered about, and Athena was sure some of it was organic. But there was nothing large enough to identify as such.

Itzhal's voice crackled in his comms. "If you mean wall to wall blood and shredded...everything. Then yes, I got something for you." She replied sardonically.

 

[Itzhal Volkihar]

| Location | Axxilia, Outer Rim Territories

The grated cross-sections of the walkway rattled with the firm press of Athena's footsteps, radiating suppressed displeasure with every clack of her treaded boots, drilling deep into the metallic surface, before she continued onwards. Shrouded in a familiar shade of black and red—the ideals of justice and honouring a parent emblazoned upon her armour—a common sight amongst protectors, one that Itzhal himself wore as well, although the exact meaning to him had been adapted over time.

Itzhal's steps were quieter, muffled by the extended stretch of durasteel that served as solid footing for his treaded boots, despite the sleek pools of blood that shimmered under the faded lights, surrounded by metal warped and pitted by the impression of flailing limbs and terrible tears that had rended the surface with deep gashes. Carefully, the Morellian stepped around another slick mark imprinted in the floor, more akin to an oilspill, if not for the way it gleamed crimson under the light. He followed the next mark, a vivid imprint of a person's back, splattered where the impact had first occurred—mere inches from the fourth leg of the Freighter—and gradually losing definition until it became nothing more than a faint smear that ended near his feet.

Encircled by a halo of frayed wires and twisted metal, the gaping hole in the Freighter's hull flickered with vibrant tendrils of livewire crackling between the gaps, exposing the ravaged remnants of the corridor beyond. Ceramic plates designed to soften the metallic frame were crumpled inwards, exposing support struts snapped like small twigs, shattered shards glittering between the sharp cracks of lightning where they littered the floor.

Staring past the hole in the ship, Itzhal watched as Athena disappeared beyond the threshold of one of the doors, half-clamped to what remained of the wall. A few seconds later, he strode towards the landing ramp, losing sight of the doorway above.

Tilted at an angle, the right side of the landing ramp was wedged further into the frame of the door, requiring it to be climbed rather than walked upon as Itzhal mantled his way into what would have been the central loading bay. Dozens of crates lined the sides of the walls, once secured by straps, now snapped and left to hang loose in the dim light cast by a cracked lighting rig above.

"Remarkable as such a discovery may be," Itzhal stated, his voice dripping with thinly veiled sarcasm, his gaze travelled across the crates and towards the fragmented frame that lingered in the centre of the loading bay, surrounded by splatters of blood. "I was more intending for something directly useful to the case."

With each deliberate step, he drew nearer to the front of the crate, its surface lined with interlocking plates of reinforced metal that formed an enormous security door, fortified by thick rows of dark grey metal bars clamped close. Adjacent to the door, a small control panel sat dormant, its vibrant buttons attached to a dull, unresponsive screen. As he stepped around the corner of the massive structure, a previously unseen rend on the other side of the crate captured his attention.

"I think I've found what was storing the cause of all this."

Tags: Athena Faar​

 

[Athena Faar]

​

Tag: Itzhal Volkihar

Stepping out of the small room, Athena looked over the railing to the bay below, watching Itzhal in his ancient beskar'gam ascend the freighter's loading ramp and disappear inside. She laughed sardonically at Itzhal's response. " Judging by the nature of the damage, it was not a someone, but a something that tore through here."

Athena's helmet turned to look down the elevated walkway. She noted a the evidence leading from the room away down the catwalk, where the grating and railing were dented and bent in places. She tread in that direction. It was curious that they had neither any sign of the cuplrit, and minimal remains of victims.

Two more rooms set along the catwalk ahead, but their doors seemed unbreached. A quick poke of her head inside found nothing of significance and no sign of damage or victims. But along the walkway, the evidence continued. Blood-slick patches on the railing, kinks in rails and supports, and a curious spot of viscous near transparent goo dripping from the grating to the floor below.

The cryptic voice of the 'old man' crackled in her comms. When her boss mentioned finding something, Athena was at the top of the stairs that lead down to the bay floor. At its head was remains of a labor droid, dismembered, its chassis savaged, lying in a pool of oils and hydraulic fluid.

Athena descended the stairs and crossed the floor to the vessel, seeing the same pools of blood, the same damage to the ship that the Morellian had seen. The extent of the damage to the ship may not have been the most gruesome find, but it was the most disturbing.

She too entered the ship, where Athena found Itzhal standing before a large reinforced crate. Its damage was almost shocking, attesting to something savage and powerful was once held within.

"What have we got running around here?" She asked.

 

[Itzhal Volkihar]

| Location | Axxilia, Outer Rim Territories

With a purposeful stride, Itzhal navigated over the warped and splintered remnants of shrapnel scattered over the floor. He lowered himself into a crouch, his hand swooping low to explore the jagged crack that marred the side of the cargo container. The colossal crate blocked the flickering beam of light from the damaged rig overhead, the sharp divide between the crack of dim light and the all-consuming shadow, like the sun sinking below the horizon in a world turned upside down. It loomed over Itzhal, a monolith shrouded in shadow. His visor flickered, an adjustment of light levels that slowly bled into view as the remnants of illumination from above burned with a white glow, while the darkness shifted into a bleak greyscale that peeled away the shadows.

Dozens of dents spiralled outwards from the impression of the fracture, frayed and splintered, the Morellian's calloused fingers trailed over the sharpened edges of the crate. As he probed the surface and slipped his fingers into the interior, a slick wetness seeped through the outer layer of his bodysuit. Instinctively, he withdrew his hand, revealing a faint trail of viscous goo that clung stubbornly to his bodysuit, undisturbed by the flick of his fingers or the shake of his hand. Only when he finally smeared the curious substance against the side of the crate did it deem to depart, and even then, he was left with the faint feeling of gritty moisture lingering over his skin as Athena entered the room.

"Now, that is the question," he contemplated, with a casual stretch of his right wrist, twisting it in slow-moving circles.

Shrouded in darkness, a shard of metal emerged from an opening within the right gauntlet of Itzhal's beskar'gam, resembling the form of a slender vibroblade. With a measured and almost tender touch, the Mandalorian Protector leaned closer, expertly guiding the tip of the blade across the slick, goo-covered surface before him, where the viscous substance slipped through a small incision, carrying up the length of the hollow internals. A soft trill echoed from the gauntlet, one beep, then another, building upon each other until they were replaced by a single click.

Information flooded his visor a second later—chemical analysis of the creatures' drool.

Itzhal shot upwards, pushing off his knees for a quick rise, as his hurried steps carried him towards the ship's exit. "Bloody idiots, analysis came in, we're dealing with a Rathar."

Tags: Athena Faar​

 

[Athena Faar]

Tag: Itzhal Volkihar

Athena found her lead crouching near the hole torn in the strong crate. The nature of the rent was exceptionally violent, with tears in the metal and shards of it scattered about the hold. The Korun woman caught the quick sampling of the goo in the opening, similar to what she had seen on the catwalk. The soft beeps and clicks of Itshal' vambrace suggested some analysis. Soon, he announced a result.

The tall Morellian stood quickly, a haste she only saw in him when necessary. He passed by her briskly, and instinctively Athena followed on his heels, whatever it was, it wasn't good. Finally, he spoke.

Rathtar.

The name summoned a terrifying image of a big ugly ball occupied by a large, razor-sharp tooth-filled maw and flailing tentacles with an almost mindless intent on devouring and destruction.

"Perfect." Athena breathed sardonically. "Why in the hell would anyone ship something like that..." She mused in frustration, now that the horrifying creature was on the loose and now their problem. She shrugged, feeling the beskar shield strapped to her back, grateful she had brought it with her.

 

[Itzhal Volkihar]

| Location | Axxilia, Outer Rim Territories

"A question that I would have loved to ask them," he stated, his voice sharp, with a razor-edge impatience lacing his words. They were on the clock now—they always had been; he just hadn't realised until he saw the truth, borrowed time slipping through his fingers like sand. Each step he took was even sharper than the last, forming a screech of his tread against the cold metal floor that echoed like nails grating against a chalkboard. He barely noticed it, too focused on the path ahead—the faint glow spilt from the tilted segment of the entrance ramp, illuminating the delicate wisps of steam that curled lazily from gaps in the metallic plates, still warm to the touch.

His index finger jabbed the control switch attached to the side of his Buy'ce, activating the attached comm-link as he marched down the ramp.

"Mandalorian Pro..."

"...Listen, no time," he barked, urgency thick in his voice as he rushed through the eerily empty room, "Itzhal Volkihar, authorisation code; 262-Tanesh. Get a warning out, we've got a Rathtar in the sector, first identified at Level 83, Crescent Peak, Hangar 21."

He barely paused for a breath as he strode towards the narrow opening of the double doors, the metal firm against his chest as he twisted around and slipped through the gap. "Set up a security team to cordon off the site; we may need to investigate it further in the future." Blue eyes flickered to the display of his helmet feed, tracing the progress of Athena behind him, as he started to move towards the sleek two-seater speeder stashed outside the hangar-bay—a modest shade of steel grey and darker blacks that still gleamed in the glow of the artificial lights above.

His steps were only a moment behind the soft click of the airspeeder's locks, as the metal frame split in two, the top segment lifted into the air with a seamless extension that allowed access to the cockpit. "In the meantime, prepare for the worst-case scenario; we might be facing a Rathtar outbreak within city limits."

A small plastoid handle, attached to the upper half of the speeder, provided leverage as he swung himself into the driver's seat with a muted thump, the cheap fabric rumpled by the harsh press of beskar and armourweave. The dashboard began to shift with the quiet hiss of hidden hydraulics, revealing the impression of the steering wheel sealed within. Only moments later, the navigation system gracefully withdrew from its cover, presenting the controls to Itzhal with a silent flourish.

With only a few seconds to spare waiting on Athena, the canopy of the speeder retracted with a jab at the controls, and the sudden onrush of speed from the roaring repulsorlifts, which failed to muffle Itzhal's question, "Have you ever hunted one of these before?"

Tags: Athena Faar​

 

[Athena Faar]

Tag: Itzhal Volkihar

The gravity of their discovery settled in on Athena like a boulder on her shoulders, eliciting a tightening in her core. A rathtar loose in an ecumenopolis posed a terrifying problem that wouldn't be easy to stomp out. Athena was used to being assigned over more remote worlds, urban areas were more of a challenge for her.

A deep breath filled her lungs, was held a moment and released. The usual sarcastic comments that would form on her lips failed. It wasn't the right time, and Itzhal wasn't the sort to appreciate Athena's sardonic humor.

In fact, the sudden tension in the old Morellian's voice was almost as unsettling as the revelation of the loose rathtar. He was a dead serious man, but his tone bore flinty hardness that betrayed the severe nature of the situation.

As Itzhal made a hasty report and follow-on orders, Athena held her peace, following the veteran Protector's hasty pace. The circumstances had reached beyond the hanger, and beyond the two Mandalorian Protectors. But they were the boots on the ground, and Athena knew, with Itzhal, that meant it was their problem above any one's. It was their duty, and she agreed.

The pair made their way out to the speeder, the Korun warrior already peeling off the Aegis shield and bes'kad from her back. Arriving at the vehicle, she tossed the items in a compartment behind the seats and vaulted into the passenger side. The question came as they sped off.

"Have you ever hunted one of these before?"


Short answer was no. On Haruun Kal, she did learn to hunt in the jungles with akk dogs. She had hunted large predators as a Protector. often from the back of a dragon. But nothing as nightmarish as a rathtar. She wished she had Miit'alor with her, but the dragon was too big to effectively hunt in a city.

"No, nothing like them. Part of hunting something is being able to predict its future behavior. With this thing, I don't know how you predict what it might do or where it'll go next. Rathtar seem like mindless eating machines." Athena replied with her own frustration, reflecting on the destruction left behind at the hangera. "But they do leave a mess behind, tapping into the local official reports might let us know where it's been and were it is."

 

[Itzhal Volkihar]

| Location | Axxilia, Outer Rim Territories

"Under the circumstances, that's what I'm worried about."

The repulsorlift thrummed with restless energy beneath him, its power contained within the sharp contours of its frame, quivering in anticipation for the hunt that had only just begun. Itzhal's hands encircled the polished curves of the handles, fingers gripping tightly against the harsh vibrations that travelled through his extended arms as the speeder twisted into a sharp descent that closed the distance between them and the skylanes below.

The city stretched out like a glimmering maze, its towering spires and suspended walkways held in defiance of gravity. Above and below, the streets were a blur of activity—crowds of pedestrians rushing between illuminated storefronts and businesses, undaunted by the hundreds of skycars that choked the skies in a flurry of speeding vehicles, their only delay the infrequent pulse of flashing lights that shrouded the nearby glittering glass windows and stained metal walls in a flicker of red and green. Impossibly, his hands tightened further around the handles, releasing a slight squeak of the synthsuit gloves that covered his fingers.

For them, it was just another night in the city, oblivious to the danger that now prowled the streets.

"Attention all units: we have reports of blaster fire and screams echoing from the Dire Path on Level 79, avaliable units have now been alerted to the situation, proceed with caution," a new operator announced, their voice flat and unemotional, with a metalic tint to their words that could only come from a voculator or a droid—Itzhal had a feeling it was the latter. In the corner of Itzhal's HuD, a faint outline of the nearby city region flickered to life, glowing softly in an almost gentle wave of blue. Almost immediately, a sharp red line sliced through the serenity, marking a direct and urgent route from his current position to their reported disturbance.

"Brace yourself," he warned, his voice tinged with urgency as the words faded into a low grunt of pain. The cockpit jolted violently, rattling against the sudden shift in direction, while the force-dispersion unit whined horribly like a dying creature before it too faded into silence. Outside, the blaring horns of other vehicles carried through the air, a wave of furious words stolen by the growl of repulsorlifts and the screech of tortured air, torn apart by vessels too close for comfort. Itzhal's brow creased with concentration, while a deep frown etched itself into the corners of his lips, hidden beneath the concealment of his Buy'ce.

"First thing to know is that Rathtars have something of a hive-mind; the more of them there are, the smarter they become. Second, they breed quickly under the right circumstances. If they start feeding, we'll have a pack of them by the end of the day." He leaned forward, pushing down on the controls as the navigation system bleeped about their speed. He ignored it. Entire city blocks vanished in the blink of an eye, replaced by others of their kind, almost like a powerpoint flickering between scenes as they shot down the sky-elevator. "Third, they hunt by a mixture of sound and smell; the latter isn't exceptional, but it does the job. They can't see us. So if we need to, a mixture of gas and sonic grenades should disorientate them. We probably will, their skin is resistant to blaster-fire."

With a tilt of his Buy'ce, he glanced over at the flicker of crimson light below, "We're going to be coming in hot, ready yourself."

Tags: Athena Faar​

 

[Athena Faar]

Tag: Itzhal Volkihar

Athena settled into the passenger seat, instinctively fastening the safety belt. It was an unconscious habit learned from strapping herself into the dragon harness. If you didn't fasten into that seat, it was over.

Itzhal was a skilled pilot, and the Korun warrior felt no anxiety as he raced through the city skylanes, but when the local law comms reported blaster fire, the Morellian amped it up. Athena did cinch her belt as his speed increased, the speeder darting through traffic at breakneck speed, narrowing avoiding collisions with other vehicles over and over. It was very much like riding Miit'alor. Her brain went again to the Rathtar, what exactly they would face when the met it.

As if hearing Athena's thoughts, her comrade shared more information about their prey. None of it was good. Time was not on their side. And worse yet, Itzhal said blaster fire didn't do much good. She hoped beskar fared better against the creatures.

At the veteran Protector's warning to get ready, she released the belt and readied to exit, grab her shield and besk'ad and face what awaited them.

 

[Itzhal Volkihar]

| Location | Axxilia, Outer Rim Territories

Crimson lances of plasma burned through the atmosphere, scorching the air until every breath was laboured with the acrid smell of desecrated ozone lingering in the ruined space of the street. Smoke hung heavy, swirling like a shroud that distorted the glow of the nearby buildings' neon lights into a ghastly stretch of vivid blues and reds, which hid the grim mark of blood beneath. Silhouettes flickered between abandoned vehicles and shattered storefronts with the movement of the mist, traversing cracked walkways and the faint glimmer of glass shards glittering in the chaotic mess.

In a flash of speed, the speeder descended towards the battle, little more than a blur of monochrome.

Through the viewport, humanoid shapes twisted in the mist, revealed with the burst of crimson light that flew off into the distance, vanishing into the remnants of the devastated building; a neon sign flickered above the entrance, 'The Dire Path'. It was about the only thing on the front of the building still standing. Metal supports that stretched across the frame of the window were cracked in a dozen places, wooden shards reduced to nothing more than shrapnel, not unlike the glass that had exploded outwards into the main street. Of the doorway, there was nothing more than the suggestion of a former structure.

Another bolt flickered through the air, splattering over a shifting stretch of tendrils and a bulbous body, illuminating the trashed remains of the bar top and ceiling lights that dangled from stretched cables.

Itzhal pressed on the cockpit hatch, the seals disengaging with a whine of released air.

Volleys of crimson light filled the sky, illuminating the bar as a screech like nails against a chalkboard tore itself free from razor-sharp teeth chittering in the haze of activity. Outside, orders were given, and local police fired, again and again.

With a spring of his hand pressed against the exterior of the cockpit, Itzhal threw himself out, his boots landing with a clatter as his hand reached down towards his waist—too slow, for the tendril that shot out of the bar, a flicker of sinew and meat in the corner of his eye that pierced through plastoid in an instant.

Human vocal cords filled with pain and agony tore through the air, an accompaniment to the sound of blaster fire as red bolts flew from their hurtling form, dragged straight into the Dire Path, then just as quickly vanished in a terrible sound akin to a wood chipper.

Itzhal's visor glimmered with a soft blue hue, the intricate sensors embedded in his beskar'gam analysing the terrain with precision as he raised his left arm towards the bar with a swift, decisive motion. He uttered a sharp command that echoed through the air, and in response, a missile launched from his gauntlet with a piercing shriek. The projectile streaked through the neon-drenched mist, hurtling straight into the gaping maw of the ravenous beast that loomed before him, its jaws wide open in a frenzy of hunger.

For a second, it paused.

Then, with a muted thump that reverberated through the air and an exhale of black smoke that leaked from the creature's mouth, its body expanded, bloating outwards before it splattered against the walls and ceilings.

In the aftermath, the only sound was the soft shift of the missile platform retracting as it loaded the next projectile.

It didn't last.

There was a screech.

Itzhal turned to face it, then circled as the sound echoed around him.

Then another, then another, then another, then another...

For once, the familiar weight of the blaster pistols in his hands did not settle him; his expression settled into a grim line. "Well, Athena, if you get out of this one, you can say you survived a Rathar pack."

Tags: Athena Faar​

 

[Athena Faar]

​

Tag: Itzhal Volkihar

As the speeder raced towards the broadcasted hotspot, Athena could see it. Street after street had appeared normal, and then they turned a corner, revealing a war zone. The devastation was extensive, far worse than the hanger. Chaos reigned in the spastic illumination of blaster bolts and damaged street and storefront lighting. Law enforcement were engaging the rathtar, which was obscured by the wrecked storefront and smoke, with glimpses of tentacles snapping outward to grab or fling.

The speeder canopy opened, the cacophony of the battle, muted within the speeder, was suddenly loud and alarming. The Protectors hit the ground. Athena made a quick tactical scan before her helmeted head turned to her companion. Itzhal said nothing, nor moved. A moment later, his arm lifted and a missile lauched from his vambrance. The result was drastic and deadly.

A breath of relief hissed from under her helmet. But it only lasted a breath. In the sudden silence of the screaming and blaster fire, more terrifying sounds echoed.

There were more?

Izhal said they multipled quickly. Athena wished he had been wrong. Seeing what one could do, she scowled behind her visor at what devastation a pack could inflict on the city. She pondered whether she could affect them in any way. Her Korun-inherent ability through the Force gave her some telepathic connections with animals. But Athena quickly dismissed the idea, the rathtars were far to brutish and dim to communicate with.

With a grunt, she gripped the Aegis shield in one hand, and pulled out her beskad with the other. Itzhal finally spoke, a dryly humorous comment. "Do I get a patch if I do survive?" She quipped, not expecting an answer. Already, the horrid screeching was getting closer.

 

[Itzhal Volkihar]

| Location | Axxilia, Outer Rim Territories

From the depths of the alleyways and ruined structures that dotted the street, the incoming horde emerged, a grotesque tapestry of sinnuous flesh and razor-sharp teeth that chittered with the grinding movement of their bulbous forms. Stretched tendrils protruded from glistening flesh with the texture of soaked leather, their skin stained with viscous liquids that shifted from vivid crimson to sombre blues under the erratic flickers of neon lights that trailed above their heads. Viscous saliva dripped from jagged maws, pooling on the pavement and within the remnants of their previous hunting grounds—bars and dinners, now little more than crumbling rubble and warped metal plates.

In their wake, Athena's light-hearted jest floated amidst the hushed murmurs of her fellow law enforcers, their hushed footsteps growing closer as they stepped nearer to the centre of their formation. One officer, a young human man clad in the crisp uniform of the local Ralia police department, flinched instinctively at the ominous scuttling of movement from the shadows of a nearby alleyway—his grey eyes flickered from spot to spot, searching for danger as his fingers trembled around the trigger of his blaster, a relatively low-end model designed for pacification against civilian threats rather than punching through armour, nevermind blaster-resistant hide.

"Athena, I'm going to distract them," Itzhal whispered, his voice low yet deliberate enough for the others to catch every word. The transparisteel reflection of his visor absorbed the distorted light of the street, revealing the enroaching forms on the edges. He scanned the surroundings with deliberate, slow movements that ended on the speeder that they'd arrived in. "Once I give the signal, escort the others to the speeder. It'll be a tight fit, but better squished up there than down here."

Another wall crumpled with the appearance of tendrils bursting from the seams, the metal groaning with pain, before it clattered to the floor with a wave of searching limbs.

Itzhal stepped away from the others, his steps soft beneath the churning sound of teeth rattling between shifting gums.

Around him, the world slowed, focused down to the minute movements of the enroaching horde and his own assortment of weaponry. His heart thumped, veins pumping blood throughout his body, every breath laboured with the heavy weight of anticipation. He waited for the first of the beasts to pounce.

He should have focused on the others.

Crimson light from a blaster bolt flared through the air, a sharp crackle of ozone joined with a scream that was swallowed under the skittering screech of a dozen Rathar. Itzhal didn't turn to see who fired; he already knew. The movement caught in the three-hundred and sixty-degree view of his sensor rig the moment it happened. Then another bolt fired. And a tendril longer than a man shot out, little more than a blur as it flew towards the young man who'd fired the shot.

Itzhal's hand already raised to fire with his blasters, twisted, and with a hissed word spitting frustration into the air, a torrent of blazing fire erupted from his gauntlet, illuminating the darkness in purifying light.

Tags: Athena Faar​

 

[Athena Faar]

​

Tag: Itzhal Volkihar

Athena wanted to think of the looming creatures as mindless machines of destruction, as giant brainless mouths rimmed with slavering razor sharp teeth and flailing slimy tentacles. But they were worse. It was as if they had hive mind. The rathtars drew closer from all sides, gurgling and screeching and gnashing their maws. They seemed an offense to nature. Itzhal took one out fairly easily, but could they kill them all?

The law enforcement officers drew closer to the armored Mandalorians like children to their mother when thunder threatened a storm. The blaster fire had ceased, perhaps because they knew their weapons were useless against the invaders. Then Athena grinned under her helmet. But they could charger hers. Itzhal was going to draw the attention of the rathtars, she would get the others to the speeder. It would all have to be timed right.

Turning to the officers, she spoke low and calm. "Keep your minds about you. Don't move until my partner signals. When he does, we make for the speeder. But I want you to fire your blasters at my shield as we run. You'll see why."

Yet another rathtar appeared form behind a toppling wall. She turned to watch the Morellian inch away, her hand held up to keep the officers at bay until the signal came. But one couldn't keep his cool.

A blaster bolt screamed through the air, then another. The response was the peal of near defeaning screeches from a dozen creatures. A tentacle shot out to snake around the man. Athena's blade rang through the air, cartwheeling toward the man, until the songsteel blade severed the leathery limb. It's repulsors returned it to the Mandalorian's grip.

"Now!" She yelled, running towards the speeder. The lawmen followed hot on her heels, several remembering to fire at her Aegis shield, which she held behind her as she ran. One or two hastily fired bolts hit her armor. But the shield absorbed and stored the plasma in its energy capacitor. Her eyes darted to Itzhal, who was laying down a withering barrage of blaster fire from his arsenal.

Athena's boots then skidded to a halt as she yelled for the others to get into the speeder. She stood her ground as two slobbering rathtar's descended. Holding the shield up before her, she activated the shield. Near-blinding flash of lightning burst out of the shield with the sharp cracking of electricity, branching and impacting against the two creatures who screamed and shuddered vehemently before sinking to the ground, smoking.

Unfortunately, there was only enough energy stored for one blast. They all needed to get the hell out of there. Her visor darted back to see the last of the lawmen scrambling into the speeder, then to the Morellian.

"Itzhal! We have to go!" She yelled, her humming blade severing another groping tentacle reaching for her as a snarling rathtar approached. She flung it at the thing's open mouth, where it sunk into the soft flesh inside and into vital organs. It too railed violently. Athena recalled it, the blade fidgeting as it worked to free itself from the dying monster, until it freed itself and returned to its owner's hand.

 

[Itzhal Volkihar]

| Location | Axxilia, Outer Rim Territories

For an instant, the blaze painted the street in an inferno as bright as daylight, revealing the true scale of the nightmare advancing towards them. Dozens of bulbous forms inched their way across the pavement, their grotesque bodies glistening in the fiery light, while others clung to the walls, nearby ceilings, and rooftops alike, their tendrils threaded through windows, sewer grates, and even the carcasses of abandoned speeders. An infection spreading with every moment the source remained untreated—tendrils writhed like living cables within the inferno, shrivelling as the heat washed over the shattered street. It wasn't enough. Itzhal's visor blinked urgently, flooding his vision with frantic status reports as the gauge for his flamethrower spiralled down towards empty, his only remaining fuel source the jetpack strapped to his back.

A colossal Rathar thundered through the searing wave of flames, its thick hide bubbling and blistering as it released a foul, viscous ooze that dripped from angry, inflamed sores. Drowning in a tide of bleeding gums, a chaotic frenzy of teeth, opened wide, chittering with rage as it barreled directly towards Itzhal with terrifying momentum. He pivoted sharply, boots grinding against broken ferrocrete. In one fluid motion, he thrust his arm sideways, twisting sharply to channel the raging inferno into a seething whip of smoke and fire that surged between the retreating law enforcement officers and the rest of the monstrous pack. His blaster pistol gleamed in his other hand, distorted by the crimson light that crept from the barrel, only to be absorbed by the approaching tide of flesh.

"Terlyraha," he commanded, his voice slicing through the air with a chilling authority, each word imbued with a cold determination that felt as unyielding as a slab of beskar.

In an instant, the air was saturated with the metallic scent of blood as it sprayed forth, painting the ground in a vivid splash of crimson from the gaping hole that tore through the side of the Rathar's bulbous frame. A deafening crack rent the air, and a moment later, the sound reminiscent of a thunderclap erupted through the sky. Itzhal stepped back, a single adjustment that allowed the beast to stumble past, the heavy thud of the creature's massive form striking the duracrete with a shuddering ripple.

Athena's voice shattered the stillness, accompanied by the monstrous screeches that clashed for dominance over the battlefield.

"I'm on my w..." he gasped, the syllables dying on his lips as a sinuous tendril slithered out from the ravenous blaze, wrapping cruelly around his waist in less than a heartbeat, thrusting him into the hellfire's maw as it yanked him backwards, the searing heat morphing into a suffocating embrace that enveloped him entirely.

Tags: Athena Faar​

 

[Athena Faar]

​

Tag: Itzhal Volkihar

It was nightmarish. No battlefield had been so horrifying than that street, lit up in fleeting flashes of fire, lightning and sparking power lines, revealing the mass of tentacles and teeth that clung to buildings, clamored over wrecks, and surged forward in freakish disregard for the destruction Itzhal laid upon them. Athena's helmet volleyed between the fleeing lawmen and the Morellian. Itzhal created a barrier of flames between them, providing precious ticks for the officers to squeeze into the speeder. But it wouldn't last long.

Athena swung the shield to the magnetic harness on her back, drawing the repulsor slugthrower form its holster. She watched as Itzhal roasted a large rathtar. She aimed the pistol at a smaller green one scrambling towards her. The heavy slugs punched through its tough hide and one eye, leaving it to skid to a dead halt.

Then he heard the officers yelling. Athena's visor pivoted in the direction they were pointing, to see a thick, burning tentacle wrap around Itzhal and draw him towards it's mouth, wide and fang-rimmed, even as it burned like a bonfire.

"NO!" Athena yelled, swinging the slugthrower around and emptying it at the thing that wouldn't die, the thing that had Itzhal. There were too many....too many. They were closing in. She raised the vambrace of her other arm, a panel opening as a series of micro-missiles streaked towards yet another monster closing in, crippling it, but not killing. She inched back, not willing to bolt for the speeder and leave her partner. Then a tentacled snapped out of the erratic shadows to snake around her ankle, jerking her off of her feet. She hacked at it with her beskad.

 

[Itzhal Volkihar]

| Location | Axxilia, Outer Rim Territories

An inferno distorted the very atmosphere around it, creating a shimmering haze that made the air feel alive with a ravenous hunger that could not be denied, only delayed. Tongues of flame flickered with a hunger that mirrored the sinuous flesh wrapped around the Mandalorian's waist, licking eagerly at the edges of his bodysuit, hot cinders seared the skin beneath. Oxygen crackled ominously in his ears, consumed by a voracious cycle of flames that dragged him deeper and deeper into the all-consuming realm of fire, where reality blurred into a dazzling flare of blinding light.

In a twist of the luminous flare, his visor darkened, a protective shutter that insulated him from the searing world on the other side, a world that might have left him completely blind. In less time than it takes to blink, he was dragged straight out of the flames, curling light reaching towards his position with crooning fingers of flame that illuminated his form.

At his destination awaited a chittering mass, a wave of gleaming teeth and bulbous eyes, poised to strike with primal intent as the tether wrapped around his waist yanked him closer. Itzhal's knees slammed into the ground with a ding of metal, his bones creaking with the impact. Armoured plates skittered across the ground, barely buying him a second as he glanced down the razor-lined gullet before him.

With a twist of his left arm, a metallic hiss echoed through the air, a sleek wave of silver escaping from the smallest of gaps in his gauntlet, only moments before he slashed, the blade slicing through the air with an almost liquid grace, straight through the extended tongue wrapped around his waist. There was no whisper of hesitation or a flicker of doubt—only intention. Ichor sprayed from the wound, pouring over the metal plates of the pavement and seeping into the atmosphere with a putrid tint of yellow that sizzled in the air. His other hand was not idle; the moment the strike cut, crushgaunts shot forward, squeezing the tenderised flesh of their tongue before it could retreat.

"That hurt," Itzhal remarked, staring down the bleeding wreck filled with holes from Athena's slugthrower.

The Rathaar emitted a piercing screech, the sound warped and tortured by the crushgaunt tightly clamped down on its elongated tongue, effectively preventing the creature from shutting its maw. With a calculated movement, slower than he intended, Itzhal lifted his other arm, revealing the sleek contours of his blaster—Oath—in hand. Then, with a vindictive smile, he pulled the trigger and the screeches silenced.

Out of the corner of his eye, another tendril flew past, ducked with only a second of warning as he turned and fired.

"Tell the others to leave; their weaponry won't do the job. I'll remain, buy them time at the very least, and finish it if I can. If we run here, we only allow these creatures to recoup their numbers," he said over the sound of blaster fire, a relentless blaze of crimson light that tore through eye-like tumours and teeth, yet failed to pierce through the oily sheen across the Rathaar's skin. It didn't matter. They were only a distraction; his gauntlet clicked with the sound of his next projectile settling into place. "I won't tolerate that."

Tags: Athena Faar​

 

[Athena Faar]

​

Tag: Itzhal Volkihar

The battle raged, flailing tentacles, gnashing teeth, fire, blaster bolts and hacking metal amid the sputtering of battered street lights and the horrid sound of the rampaging rathtars. Athena's beskad severed the sinewy tentacle that grasped her, eliciting an ear-piercing screech from the creature. A glance revealed Ithzhal still fighting valiantly, though he was hard pressed by the swarming foe.

The officers crowded did their best to help, but their light blasters couldn't penetrate the rathtar hide, only adding chaos to the mix. That was when she heard her companion's instructions through the comms. The officers would leave to safety. Itzhal pledged to stay until it was over.

Athena could do no less. She would not abandon the Morellian, or her duty as a Protector. She sighed behind her helmet, even as her whirling blade fended off another attack. She turned for a breath towards the speeder.

"Go, go go! That's an order!" She yelled at them. They paused, looking at one another uncertain, but the approach of a slavering rathtar, and the realized ineffectiveness of their weapons, convinced them. With a promise to get help, the closed the speeder and the vehicle lifted up and out of the fray.

Turning to fling the beskad into another gaping, toothy maw, it pierced what passed for a brain in the thing, halting it. Mini-repulsors freed the blade again and sent it streaking back into her grip. She wished she had come with a full loadout, but they had no idea of what a simple investigation at a hanger bay would lead too.

She quickly reloaded the Madrugar pistol and made her way closer to Itzhal, firing the slugs into the closest creature, her blade in her other hand fending off relentless tentacles. She had no more quips for the Morellian, all focus had to be on holding against the rathtars.

 

[Itzhal Volkihar]

| Location | Axxilia, Outer Rim Territories

With a speed that defied logic, a sinuous tendril shot forward, slicing through the thick haze of smoke and ash that hung heavily in the air like a shroud. Itzhal's tarnished boots clacked sharply against the cold, metallic floor as he executed a swift sidestep, his body twisting with precision. The glistening flesh of the Rathaar surged past him, missing its mark by mere inches, leaving behind the smell of burnt flesh clinging to the filters in his Buy'ce.

In a heartbeat, Itzhal adjusted his dual pistols, their metallic surfaces gleaming through the blinding mess of smoke and neon light, and aimed with unwavering focus at the beast that threatened him. Both thumbs pressed down against the backstop until he met resistance, then he pushed a little deeper, the weapons whining for a second before the sound was replaced with a faint hum.

A split second later, he pulled the triggers.

The blasters erupted in a wave of light, vibrant bolts of energy tearing through the atmosphere with ferocious intensity. Each shot landed like a miniature sun, golden light spreading outwards in shimmering waves of scorched ozone and a smell he'd long grown inured to. The sound of detonations echoed through the space, followed by the sickening screech of a wounded animal, its maw a bloody rent, as fractures widened and splintered across the blaster-resistant surface of its outer skin. Until, with a single whine, the Rathaar faltered and collapsed into a dull silence.

Yet, the horde continued to screech.

Itzhal sank his combat boots deep into the scattered rubble, pushing aside pieces of crumpled and chipped duracrete from the front façade of the ruined Dire Path, along with other buildings unfortunate enough to be located at the blood-stained breeding ground. In just a few more hours, it was a fate that could spread across the surface of Ralia—unless they put a stop to it right here and now.

Charred flesh twisted amid the flames, creating an unholy sight of flailing tendrils and greed-filled eyes—his visor flickered, a momentary haze outlining the creature in his peripheral vision. A shrill screech tore through the air, battering away at the protection of his auditory filters. The creature charged forward, heading straight for the ascending frame of the skycar. Inside, men and women, prepared to face the danger of drunken civilians and troublesome children, braced for impact with shock and horror written across their faces.

In a blur of motion, Itzhal's right arm extended without even a moment to twist his head in the direction of his target. He didn't need to. The charging mass of flesh exploded under a wave of radiant light, blossoming outwards with each golden bolt that arrived. In his other hand, his left arm raised, Itzhal fired a torrential hail of bolts that tore through the remains of a local takeout, sending burning splinters through to the other side, where another Rathaar screamed in pain.

Another tendril shot towards his back, only to be sliced through by the arrival of his ally, as the tip smacked into his back with a wet flop.

"Appreciated," his voice pitched high over the sounds of battle, and the particular whine of his dual blaster pistols, tearing through everything in their reach as the particle beams exploded on impact and left a trail of destruction in their wake. "I wouldn't have blamed you if you'd gone with them for a higher vantage point."

Alien muscle tore through the space between the two Mandalorians, far enough away that neither was in serious danger, until with a sudden shift of momentum, it cleaved sideways, twisting after Itzhal. His knees braced for impact, a split second before the clash of Beskar'gam and monstrous power that tore his feet from the ground. Less than a second later, his backplate slammed to the surface, impact gel shuddering with the recent hits that left the Mandalorian groaning rather than as a red smudge across the pavement.

He blinked.

And his hands twitched around the crumpled mess of his blaster pistols, the triggers pushed inwards, around the new metal moulds of his crushgaunts.

The Rathaar's tendril slithered across the blisteringly warm surface like a serpent on the hunt, its fleshy, undulating skin glistening under the confusing haze of lights, as it closed in on Itzhal's ankle with a terrible hunger. With a heavy, resigned sigh, Itzhal sheathed the ruined blaster pistols, the weapons clattering as they failed to fit in their holsters quite right. Then, the creature pounced, a flash of movement that he didn't quite see as he felt the after effects of it as they wrapped around his armoured boot, only to stop with the squelch of his crushgaunts.

"I liked those blasters," he grumbled, flicking off gore with one hand as the other yanked on the rest of the appendage, dragging the creature closer and off balance as his wrist-mounted vibroblade went to work. "So, I take it this doesn't count as an incentive to try out city living."

Tags: Athena Faar​