Taken 2 (Triko's Fungeon) [Arthos] [Complete]

[Triko]

@[member="Arthos Vynea"]


Employing fog wasn’t a particularly clever move.


Triko was really quite used to being blinded by all kinds of strange hallucinatory things, and so the fog did little to perturb him.


What also wasn’t a particularly clever move was jumping into a wall. Contrary to popular belief, flying into a solid metal blast door did produce sound.


Using the sound, he roughly worked out where the senator now was, rough locations being all he needed thanks to the wide spread of the scatterguns.


“Clever senator!” He grinned as more shrapnel peppered the senator’s general direction.

 

[Arthos Vynea]

The little bugger was still shooting! Who killed the only person who could the doors open?! His initial jump had made the more solid spray of scatter gun miss, but the new spread was not nearly as concentrated. Dropping to the ground Arthos gripped the force and crawled towards the front wall. Even as the first boom caused shrapnel to rip apart the flesh of his leg he held his silence. With his lightsabers off in the complete darkness that was now the study, and the fog sound was the only direction given for anything.

The purpose of the fog wouldn't be noted unless someone attempted to see the room through ultra-violet or infrared, but the fog would be completely impossible to see through in one, and the other so bright as to be blinding. In normal light it was just well, fog. All the Senator wanted at this point was to either trap the jawa in the room by himself, or to cut its crazy little arms off. It had shot him THREE TIMES! There was no question someone had paid the little ball of craziness to kill him! Slowly he felt his way across the floor on the opposite side of the Jawa, if he could keep quiet all the way to the bathroom door he could get out and reseal the damnable room.

@[member="Triko"]

 

[Triko]

@[member="Arthos Vynea"]

The last of the scattergun pellets pinged off the back wall- no hit.

Where was the senator?

Triko stepped back softly, waving the barrels of the gun about for a moment or two. He let off one or two shots, if only to scare the senator, aiming them in random directions. Next he drew a grenade, of the plasma variety. This was going to set everything on fire, and Triko was quite partial to fire, ergo this made some good sense.

That and most creatures burned in fire.

With a clink he ripped the pin out and hurled it to the ground, darting back as he did so.

 

[Arthos Vynea]

He'd done it! Somehow he reached the far wall, and now he could lock this crazy ball of mayhem inside of it. Even as Triko emptied some shots into the air Arthos was putting his finger unto a small needle in the door crevice that would open just that door. As soon as he felt the pain of the needle Arthos wasted not time and pressed himself against the door, falling through into the bathroom as it opened. Even as Triko threw the grenade the blastshielding slid back closed, and left the Jawa alone with his insanity.

As for Arthos he just looked at himself in the mirror a bloody mess, and turned on the shower. Turning on the intercom for the next rooom as he stepped into the slower to wash off the blood he left the Jawa a little message. "You know I should kill you, or just leave you in there to die. I won't, the smell would never get out anyway if I did. Now I'm stuck here on my shower floor washing this nonsense off, and I'm going to get all kinds of questions over this. Who the feth sends a Jawa assassin anyway?"

Laying his head against the wall of the shower Arthos realized on an odd note that he was bleeding quite a bit. He should see a doctor, and by the Sith Code they didn't clean this shower nearly well enough.

 

[Triko]

@[member="Arthos Vynea"]

Triko donned the principle of omerta and remained entirely silent as the plasma grenade set off and set the room on fire.

It was quite unnerving that the fire had disintegrated just about half of the room and melted a hole in the floor, but he wasn't on fire yet so he didn't see too many problems. There also seemed to be a lot of blood on the floor, but it wasn't his either, so that was unimportant. What was important was how he was going to get out of this.

And Triko had quite the plan.

Reaching into his poncho, he drew a hollowed out bantha horn, its surface polished, gold and silver bands fused to either end and pointed end cut away to make it something of a primitive instrument.

Sucking in as much breath as he could for the smoke-filled room, he blew as loud as possible into the horn, leaning down onto one knee as he did so. The sound was so vibrant that it could pass through even the blast doors, the roaring echo shaking the building.

For a few seconds there was nothing but silence as the vibrations slowed.

Then a low, rumbling, jagged thunder could be heard.

A thunder that grew louder and louder before Triko dove to the ground and a hulking three ton bantha clad in the HOB-NOB Bantha propulsion device tore through the blast doors and ripped down the wall, Triko making sure to keep out of its way as it sped forwards, rockets still flaring but in reduced capacity and charged through into the next room, horns taking out wall fixtures and collecting loose metal plates and electrical cables, its shaggy tail vanishing from the inferno of a room as it collided with the bathroom door and wiped it off its hinges, a smoking, bantha-sized hole remaining in its wake.

“Oooh feth…” He gasped as an array of police vehicles floated up on the horizon.

 

[Arthos Vynea]

As the loss of blood slowly made the Zabrak drowsier he threw his sabers our the window, and just rested against the wall. A wall which sadly was about to disappear. Banthas are large animals, and very heavy. More so with a giant rocket on their back. So as the giant Bantha crashed into the bathroom, and Arthos was absolutely certain he'd lost enough blood to die the floor simply caved in.

Thus did the Senator find himself buried under the rubble of his own bathroom while a rather panicked Bantha continued on its path of destruction. Even as the sirens came closer Arthos faded away into blissful unconsciousness. He'd just been beaten by a Jawa, and his flying reindeer, I mean Bantha. So he was going to sleep now under the incredibly large amount of rubble a crazy Jawa, and his flying Bantha left behind. His last thought... poor Bantha... how did it get stuck with that rocket strapped to it.

@[member="Triko"]

 

[Triko]

@[member="Arthos Vynea"]

Triko reared his head again and blew into the horn, the bantha flying into an arc round the building and swooping back into the gently burning room the jawa was standing in, skidding to a gentle halt beside him.

This gave him an opportunity to mount the creature, atop which was a leather saddle. Patting it on the scruff of the neck, he soared forwards and out of the building, leaving the skyscraper to the flames.

Waving his invisible hat in the air, he swooped off into the night sky, blaring police lights filling the blackness behind him.

 

[Arthos Vynea]

Arthos awoke the next morning in a bacta tank with a rather sour taste in his mouth for the entire Jawa race. One day he would punish them all for what happened, but today wasn't it. Instead he simply floated in silence, not much you could say anyway with a breathing tube shoved down your throat. He was going to eat Bantha steak for a week, no a year, and some day he'd kill the entire Jawa race. These there the thoughts that comforted the Senator as the Coruscant police stood protectively around his tank. Jawas... little red balls of insanity!

 

[Triko]

Triko couldn't hear the senator's raging thoughts because, well, he wasn't psychic.

That and he was too busy with glitterstim, jawa-juice and the numerous scantily clad Twi'leks that were surrounding him aboard The Kestrel. He couldn't see straight, but the girls weren't straight- they were curvy.

Or maybe they were. Everything looked a bit curvy.

Still, he was having a good time surrounded by the credits he'd claimed from the mysterious client who'd asked him to take out the senator.

As far as he was concerned, the senator was dead.