Stealing Freedom (Just ask to join :D)

[Placeholder 04]

TELOS: OUTSKIRTS OF UNIDENTIFIED CITY​

​

​

​

​

​

​

Gravesen had not had a good day. The Rattataki was hunched behind one of six long steam rods, back pressed heavy against the miniaturized smoke stacks. He still wasn't completely sure that this was the best idea--but what other choice did he have? He ran a black gloved hand over his bald scalps, bluish-gray eyes fixated on one of the Bora--class Light Freighter that was refueling at the southern dock. It really wasn't anything special. The Freighter was big enough to house himself and his partner, while being moderately sized enough to be piloted by the duo.

"Stang." He mumbled to himself, chewing down on his pale lower lip in thought. the air was humid, and it was bringing about a thin sheen of sweat on the Rattataki's face. Granted, his combat boots, hooded trench coat, reinforced pants didn't help much either. Neither did the fact that it was all almost entirely black or dark brown.

Just like Zeer taught you. Take in a breath.

Four merchants were ferrying cargo in and out of the shuttle. They were flanked by a small contingent of guards wearing the armor of the defunct Sith Empire. No matter what Republic propaganda was driveled out to its citizens, it was common knowledge that the remnants of the Sith Empire were still trying to establish control. Graves had withstood just about enough of the Sith's hospitality in prison. He set his DD-12 in the crook between two of the steam pipes. A flick of the firing setting put the weapon on semi-automatic.

I'm despicable. This is murder.

His finger played on the trigger, though it didn't pull. Graves took another deep breath. The walkway behind him was completely empty, and the security cameras had failed due to a simple lack of supplies. He only had a few moments to do this. "I'm ready when you are, Zeer." He whispered into the mic; absentmindedly noting how badly he smelled. A few weeks in the wilderness did that to you--hopefully this freighter had showers.

 

[Zeer Delos]

Zeer was crouched closer to the Freighter. His lithe canine form easily hidden behind the stack of large crates, his Armor hardly recognizable from what it used to be. In his left hand was his stun-baton, the normally non-lethal weapon was currently without a charge. A cold, cruel grin was across his muzzle and a look of amusement in those normally dead eyes behind his red-tented visor which allowed him to see. Without the piece of glass on his face he was blinded entirely besides the fact he had ultra-sonic hearing.

The moment was coming. He could feel it.

Blood, blood everywhere and freedom soon after. It will be GLORIOUS.

In all reality the Ranth had little concept of glory other than when he took a life and got to watch as it ebbed away. Which was exactly about to happen. The first guard wandered toward him and he got ready; without provocation he'd vault over the durasteel and catch the merc off guard. The poor Duros in the armor didn't know what hit him. Zeer's attack was quick and devastating, first he kneed the guard hard in the gut and doubled him over. The canine then reached forward and in one fluid motion yanked the alien close, and suddenly bit into the bodysuit around the neck instantly severing the jugular with teeth. Blood sprayed and the man screamed weakly alerting the guards who opened fire only to shoot their dying comrade in the back several times.

"Gravesen now! Before they fry my fur offfffff! Raagghhh!"

@[member="Gravesen Conclave"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

Well....that's...fancy...

Graves really didn't need a moment to think. This was all in his mind's eye already. The bloodied Duros going limp simply made it a reality. Without hesitation, the former university student set his sights on two of the guards who were taking potshots at his only friend--a murderous psychopath at that-- in the galaxy.

"Relax. I've got this." He whispered calmly into the archaic comm unit. It was so old that the young Rattataki hadn't even tried changing the frequency, for fear that it would simply shut off forever. He took in yet another breath, and pulled the trigger. The weapon hammered back against his arm the way he had grown used to as two deadly bolts of crimson shot through the air. The first clipped a soldier in the thigh, piercing armor and sending him sprawling. The second bolt went wide.

"Okay, I half-have this." Graves added quaintly, firing four more bolts down on the guards. Only one met a mark, hitting the soldier who was now screaming on the landing pad's flooring in the upper chest. The other guards all bolted for cover.

At least the screaming has stopped...

@Zeer Delos

 

[Zeer Delos]

You know these Sith really should have made more protection to the neck... Its really soft and chewy.

Zeer swallowed down the flesh in his teeth as three more guards came running from inside of the ship. The Ranth wasted no time, no time at all, his baton suddenly zapped to life. The first ex-Sith merc swung a blade at him. Zeer gave an odd, gurgling hissing noise that would be heard rather clearly in the mic. He knew the blade's arc from its humming vibration, his ears swerved in that direction as the thundering drums of blaster fire suddenly echoed in his ear.

He made a simple side-step from the blade's path the large Sith Trooper obviously confused until his wrists were suddenly struck by the baton sending currents of energy through his hand and disarming him. Quickly Zeer removed the merc's helmet and then in the same motion with the other side of his body he smashed the Sith upside the skull with the baton. It was rather like a clothes-line and there was enough force that there would be a sickening crunch and sizzle that echoed in the mic (along with Zeer's howling hyena like laugh).

The second guard quickly moved into place. With a screeching bark of his home tongue something only Gravesen would understand. "Karking sewer rats, always getting in my way." Then the helmet Zeer took from the last guard would fly through the air and smack the trooper harmlessly on the chest with a bounce and roll. The soldier lowered his gun for a split second, laughed, but was cut off rather quickly when Zeer threw the baton at the guy and electrocuted him where he stood.

@[member="Gravesen Conclave"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

I really like this rifle.

Graves stood up from his perch; bringing a hand up to block the sunlight from his eyes. Only one guard remained, and he was running for his life. The man tumbled over a box, rolled to his feet, and smashed right into one of the merchants. Gravesen couldn't help but let a slight smile tug at the corners of his mouth. "Try not to kill the merchants. They aren't Sith." He mumbled calmly into the comm system. He jumped down from his perch with relatives ease, rolled on his shoulder, and sprung up to his feet in a span of two seconds.

The would-be-ship-hijacker held his rifle at his waist, ready to spray rather than be precise. He'd already faced facts; Gravesen was no expert marksman. His blood boiled at the sight of the remnant's corpses. On one hand, his warrior blood wanted to see all those who had wronged him dead. On the other, his civil rationality, his love for knowledge, not war, was repulsed by the gruesome scene. It made his stomach churn. The Rattataki strode around the mangled corpses on up at Zeer's side. He had no fear of the alien, even if Zeer did seem more feral than sentient.

"Guess I'll be getting your dinner then; since you already had yours." He grumbled half-halfheartedly, nudging a brutally mangled corpse with his boot. The single guard had rushed into the vessel, along with all but two of the merchants. The ship's drives were revving to life. "Okay, this is the fun part. Don't kill the merchants." Graves ordered as his feet began to thud against the metal flooring. Four long strides and he was up the gangplank, rifle right in the face of that single guard.

The man roared something unintelligible and tackled the Rattataki. The two tumbled out of the ship, rolling across the ground in a violent display of sprawling limbs. The trooper was definitely stronger, but Gravesen was simply better armed. The remnant soldier's fist connected with Graves' nose. A dribble of blood flowed from the minor wound as Graves twisted to straddle the soldier; set all his weight against the man's neck and, in the process, retrieving a hail of punches to the midriff--retrieved his sidearm from his belt, set it to the mans neck, and pulled the trigger.

There wasn't much blood, as the man's helmet kept it from splattering. "Go, stop the ship from taking off!" Graves called, standing up now, but a bit disoriented.

 

[Zeer Delos]

"Awwwww! But the merchant boys have credits on them and squishy skulls! Heueheueeee!"

Zeer collected the vibrosword and slid that onto his belt and grabbed the baton as he climbed onto the ship. he drew both of his Czerka Machine Pistols into each hand. He moved with an up-right posture and his hips nearly swayed side to side in a matter that rather counteractive to his personality and combat style; but his race in general seemed to have rather feminine builds. Right on board another guard came running out of a room only to have each of half clip from his slug-throwers unloaded onto his chest.

"I'll clear the cargo bay, you get the bridge." Zeer spoke in his native tongue being unable to speak basic, though it sounded little more than growls, chuffs, and yelps.

@[member="Gravesen Conclave"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

Gravesen really didn't see a need to reply to that. He launched himself up the ramp, rifle held upward once more. The dribble of stick blood flowing down his lips to his chin was merely an afterthought. He swept through one corridor, up the stairs of another, and found him in a massive lounge. Two men stood with their hands up, both dressed in rather drably clothes. Clearly, they weren't the ship owners. "Off! Now!" The Rattataki snapped, shifting his weapon to motion down the stairs he had climbed up from.

The men remained silent; simply looking panicked and perhaps a bit lost as they rushed past him. Grvesen didn't miss a beat. His boots clanked against the metal scaffolding as he entered the cockpit, only to be greeted by a very angry looking Trandoshan. From his long claws, to his sharp teeth, green scales, and yellow eyes, the Trandoshan was a bastion of intimidation. "You made a big mistake white meat." The lizard hissed in Huttese--thankfully, Graves could understand many of the rim languages-- and marched forward.

Its claws outstretched in outrage, but Graves was just a hint faster. That, and Gravesen was also holding a rifle. Two loud cracks echoed through the ship as bolts of energy went through the Trandoshan and dispersed as they made contact with the flooring behind the lizard.

"Cockpit clear!" The Rattataki called out as he set the rifle up against the primary flight terminal, kicked the freshly made corpse down into the corridor, and set himself into the pilot chair. "Hurry this show up. The security turrets are locking onto us!"

@Zeer Delos

 

[Zeer Delos]

Zeer was quick about his work. The cargo bay was entirely empty, it seemed the merchants had jumped ship. He quickly tagged into his comms as he made his way back to the bridge; he was speaking in his native tongue, a garbled mix of barks. "Cargo Hold clear, get us OFF the ground, my white, tattooed friend."

He waltzed into the cockpit with that feminine swank his race seemed to carry themselves with; the fact his midriff and upper hips were exposed by the modified armor made it slightly worse though Zeer always though it made him more impressive looking.

"Take off!"

@[member="Gravesen Conclave"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

"Alright, alright, sit down." Graves grumbled, pressing his fingers against the ignition switch. The ship rumbled and creaked as its drives came to life. A few more switches, and the drives had reached a very strong level of power. The Rattataki leaned forward in his chair; teeth grit as fire from the dock's security turrets began to pepper the shielding of the ship.

"Why are they shooting at us?! They'll destroy their own cargo." Graves hissed in a more rhetorical question than anything else. The ship lurched, sputtered, and shot up from the landing pad. The drives were already at full heat; the massive freighter shook as it catapulted from its former position into the afternoon sky. Bolts of green energy flew past the cockpit window as Graves tried to dodge the anti-air fire--but the ship simply wasn't agile.

"Make sure this thing is locked down--I'm afraid we'll have an air compression when we break atmosphere." He ordered, brow knit in deep concentration as he directed the vessel up toward the stars.

@Zeer Delos

 

[Zeer Delos]

The Ranth gave a gurgling hiss and started pounding control panels with his clawed hands. It took seconds to register and the whole ship locked down, each and every bulkhead sealing and the life-support being routed to the bridge only in an attempt to kill off anything may have stowed away.

Zeer then barked in that language of his. "Everything is sealed down and I have nothing to kill or eat! Graaaaah!" Gravesen would know how Zeer's mood consistently shifted at this point. "I like my new armor by the way, the mantles from the Kath Hound fur are incredibly warm."

@[member="Gravesen Conclave"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

"Yes well-" The younger of the two cut off into an annoyed grunt as the ship lurched further skyward. "-we'll find you a nice Twi'lek gangster wherever we set port. Maybe with a nice chest, I figure those would be the fatty parts, eh?" The ship broke the clouds, and the a flood of amber light from an afternoon sun flooded the cockpit. For a long moment, things were silent and serene. The only sound within the ship were the monstrous rumblings of its massive engines.

"I think...I think we did it!" Graves roared, loud and happy. A huge grin split across his chalk white face as the ship broke through atmosphere. It only shook slightly, as the layer protecting the planet wasn't exactly the thickest. Ozone did that kind of thing. "Where did you get the Kath fur?" He added quickly, a brow raised as he chanced a glance at his friend. A sea of stars had come into view to greet the duo, though other than four single space stations, the void was completely devoid of life.

"We're almost clear...."

This adrenaline...I killed those guys, but I didn't care. I stole a ship--I really am a criminal!

@Zeer Delos

 

[Zeer Delos]

"Remember that Farmer's House, the big one we passed two weeks outta prison? he had pet Kath-Hounds, the furred kind. I killed and skinned the three. The Farmer's skin was harder to work with Ithorians have tough hides."

The Ranth's barks still carried tone and the worst part was that this his carried over like it was an everyday activity of his. Once he himself was entirely certain they were safe he kicked back in the co-pilots seat and placed his legs up on the command-console, careful not to click anything though.

"The fatty parts are more around the gut actually, chest are rather muscular."

@[member="Gravesen Conclave"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

"Shuttle Four-Eight-Six, you were not cleared to leave for another day?" A distinctively low voice rumbled through the ship's intercom. It had a deep baritone, too low to be human.

"Oh, kriff...identity code..." Graves chewed down hard on his lower lip. Scanners were picking up two snub fighters from the nearest station making a bee-line for their frigate. "Zeer, look through the records, find some kind of code...I'll stall him. Shuttle four-eight-six. They really should have given this bucket a real name." The Rattataki knit his brow as he tended to in a bad situation. "And I wasn't aware breasts were muscular."

Okay, you've got this Gravesen. You're from a powerful clan! You're a bilingual major and a graduate student in the culture of foreign species! Negotiation is your thing.

The Rattataki clicked into the comm system, and spoke up. "Just a moment fleet control...we've had an issue involving a wild gizka infestation and my commanding officer is having a bit of a panic."

@Zeer Delos

 

[Darth Ferus]

Ah crap. Why is this ship flying..?

Krest was in the back of the ship, hidden from pretty much everything. But the ship was flying, a lot sooner then it was suppose to be. The Zabrak ran his way to the bridge, no longer cloaking or hiding his presence. He felt only two others, but they were both right where he was heading. He pulls his blade free as soon as he reaches the door, alighting the light blue blade. He sticks the blade into the base of the sealed door and slowly carves a circle. Who ever these two were, they weren't his targets. And more importantly, they just destroyed his mission.

 

[Zeer Delos]

Zeer made a loud, hissing snarl that was likely heard over the comm unit. He looked down at the computer in front of him that was supposedly the ship's log.

My mortal enemy... We meet again.

Zeer just sat there and glared at the computer for a few moments before trying to tab into the thing. He then realized its command prompts were entirely in basic which he had no idea how to read. He hit a few buttons at random... A rather unsightly holovid from the unmentioned parts of the NET popped up. Zeer sat there for three seconds, entirely silent, staring at the monitor. Suddenly without provocation he broke into a loud screeching hiss and began smashing his fist into the screen.

"WORK! WORK! WORK! AAAGHHHH!"

Both ears then swiveled backwards at the sound of a much hated weapon. A lightsaber. He suddenly burst onto his feet DD-12 rifle trained at the door with a loud, vicious, wolf-like snarl.

"Sith..."

@[member="Gravesen Conclave"] @[member="Krest"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

"Gizka? Shuttle, transmit the identification code. Now."

And then, there was a blue energy beam making nice with their security door. The hiss of the weapon was foreign to Graves, and he couldn't make out what it was from the energy beam. EIther way, someone was coming in--likely to kill them. That simply wouldn't do. "Zeer, code, now!" He called out over the pop of melting metal.

Oh no...that isn't what I think it is, is it?

Graves pressed a hand to the comm unit, and drew his sidearm with the other. "Of course Sir, transmitting now. The scanners are a little bogged down, it may take a moment." He quickly cut the communication before the man could reply, and set the ship into an accelerated spin. The snub fighters were closing in. This wouldn't be good. "Zeer! Zeer, I think that's a kriffing JEDI!"

@Krest @Zeer Delos

 

[Darth Ferus]

Krest finished the hole quickly, then moved a step back. He stared at the molten edges of his quickly made circle for a moment. He had no idea what he was about to charge into, but he knew he was going in anyway. He used his robotic leg to kick the cut metal in, and he followed quickly after. He went right towards the rifle wielding Zeer, his blade a flash of light blue. The edge went right for the gun, intending to disarm Zeer.

 

[Placeholder 04]

"OH HOLY KRIFF!" ​

Needless to say, Graves was no calm collected combat veteran. he fired two blind shots from his slug throwers at the assailant, all while speeding the ship up with his free hand. He stood up from his chair and set his shebs against the control panel. This, inevitably, opened the transmitting signal back up.

"Shuttle, prepare to be boarded. Disarm and come quietly. I will see to you personally." The voice chided, demanding and perhaps a bit monstrous.

"Oh, kark." Graves said simply, which could be heard through the transmission. Their little scuffle had been heard by the flight officer, every bit of it. "Sith--Jedi!" He paused to stare at the blue blade. "The Imps are going to kill us just...calm down!" Of course, he said this after shooting two bullets at the man.

 

[Zeer Delos]

Zeer gave a loud screeching bark as his gun was sliced clean in half by the saber. That. Ticked. Him. Off. The Ranth was quick to draw both of his melee weapons and back up, dropping into a defensive posture oddly enough. If Krest tried to read Zeer's mind he'd find a swirling mass of insanity.

"I want to kill him though! That saber hurts my head! The noise, greaaaah!"

It was a good thing Krest wouldn't be unable to understand him, it was a loud chirping hiss noise though and it was laced with anger.

@[member="Gravesen Conclave"] @[member="Krest"]

 

[Darth Ferus]

Krest stared at Zeer for a moment. He made no move to read his mind, an instead went to read his posture. But that was abbandoned after getting shot in the shoulder. He stumbles to the side, his saber deactivating and dropping from his hand. Krest himself slumped near his carved entrance. His real hand held where the blaster charred his robotic limb. "Gah..! Neither of you are sith, why are you n this vessle!? You've made my mission a failure." The Zabrak grits his teeth, growling the words. He wasn't too happy.