First Reply Stuck on Corellia

[Shinma]

CORONET CITY
LATE NIGHT - HEAVY DOWNPOUR

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Shinma was somewhere the Sith was not meant to be.

A deluge poured down on Coronet City this late evening. Still, signs illuminated half the streets with ease. Speeders zipped around in the skyways far above the streets. An active, mini Coruscant continued to breath as the night continued.

And deep within the seedy parts of the city, a figure clad in black burst through a door and into a cramped alleyway. Shinma emerged from the building with heavy breath. The Sith's hand clutched tightly on the Sith's torso.

Without wasting much time, Shinma looked left then right up and down the alleyway. Shinma then chose a direction and just started to run.

And run.

And run.

Blood oozed from the Sith's torso and through gloved fingers as Shinma fled from whatever or whoever was in that building. While glancing behind, Shinma then accidentally-

SLAM!

-ran into another being and fell back and onto the ground.

 

[Varin Mortifer]

VARIN MORTIFER

Equipment: Durum Mantle | Black Blade of Chandrila | Eye of The Dragon | Heavy Sith Mace | Cross Guard Broadsaber | Wyrmfang

Rain thudded over his armor as he had rounded the corner. He had his reasons for being on the planet, within enemy lines. Possible leads to something more personal.

Something else had caught his attention as he explored the many alleyways of the area.

The impact came without warning. Another Sith running into him while his back was turned.

The massive Sith Knight slowly turned to look down at the individual before him. His red visor glaring down at the wounded Sith.

The smoldering cloak on his back pulled to the side as his hand reached down to grab the collar of the other Sith, jerking him back up to his feet.

What was this one running from? And why?

Varin's gaze glared into him.

“What are you running from? Drawing attention to yourself in the streets even further endangering us both. You better have a good explanation for this.”

The runic branding upon his flesh flared heating the metal plates over his body causing the rain to hiss once they impact his armor.

“Speak now.”

Shinma​

 

[Shinma]

Shinma appeared to be in a daze for the moment after impacting the mountain of a humanoid that is Varin Mortifer . The next second, Varin snatched Shinma back up from the ground. Almost instinctively, Shinma grasped Varin's wrist - some blood now smearing on one of Varin's gauntlets.

Appearance wise, Shinma bore the dress of a typical Sith. Black robes. Black helmet. A lightsaber not too conspicuously dangling from the hips. To the lower left side of Shinma's torso, and obvious blaster would could be seen. Not fatal - at least not in the immediate term if healed.

Heavy breathing first answered Varin. Then, a heavily filtered voice finally said, "White Worms..."

SPLASH SPLASH SPLASH!

As rain continued to pour down on this night, the sounds of footsteps could be heard from the alleyway that Shinma had just run down. Grindalids clad in their protective armor rounded a corner - armed with blasters and staffs. They spoke their own language, not Basic.

<<There! He's here!>> one Grindalid said while pointing at Shinma and Varin, <<Get the hunter!>>

The White Worm Grindalids continued to run toward Varin and Shinma. They seemed willing to choose violence if Varin did not hand over Shinma...

 

[Varin Mortifer]

VARIN MORTIFER

Equipment: Durum Mantle | Black Blade of Chandrila | Eye of The Dragon | Heavy Sith Mace | Cross Guard Broadsaber | Wyrmfang

The approach of the Grindalids warranted but just a glance at first before Varin let go of Shinma. The sight of the wound on the Sith's side made it clear he was being hunted.

Varin was not one to leave a possible ally stranded to die. He was not like most Sith, and perhaps this other one could prove useful to him.

Varin stood in the alleyway, his body taking up most of the space between the walls leaving just enough for Shinma to take cover behind him. If they so chose to.

Varin did not speak their language, but intent was a language spoken universally. Varin stepped forward as they approached. Not enough room in the cramped space to draw his Black Blade or Wyrmfang.

The spikes within the soles of his boots extended stabbing into the ground. First came the blaster bolts.

In a red flash his lightshield erupted from his bracer, taking the bolts and sending them back either into the walls or screaming back towards some of the advancement.

As one with the staff drew close enough his other hand shot forth calming the man's face hoisting him up as his grip cracked the helmet. His shield deactivated as he used the man as a shield for the next wave of blaster fire. What blasters made it through bounced off his armor as he pushed forward.

Another staff welder came close to Varin with a thrust. A small light-dagger extended from Varin's forearm deflecting the attack into the wall. Varin's hand flexed as the human shield let out a muffled scream followed by a crunch and a squelch. His body falling limp.

Varin lifted his boot, the phrik bladed soles moving towards the back of the other staff man piercing his armor and pressing his body into the wall causing the wall to crack.

The shield came back up just in time to catch the next one, the heat of the plasma shield devouring the screaming man until nothing but ash remained.

Shinma​