Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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The First Crusade

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Damien trudged through the icy terrain of Rhen Var, his boots sinking into the bright white snow. The citadel sat in the white blanket, its crumbling structures speaking volumes about its age. The wind picked up, a few snowflakes falling quickly to the ground. Damien recognized these signs; a snowstorm will start soon.

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[member="Eryn"]
 
Like Sweet-Tarts Without The Sweet Part
Some people might think being hauled from your hiding place and thrown off a ship as it passed a snow bank was an act of mercy. They could have killed her right there on the ship, or floated her when they entered space, or used her for a week before selling her to slavers. Hell, they should've crossed-checked her face with the bounty board and made themselves rich. But if they were intent on killin', Eryn would've preferred the blaster, or a broken neck. Anything other than this.

She spit out a mouthful of snow and floundered around in the deep white before tumbling off the drift and onto solid ground. With a shiver, the fugitive watched the cargo ship rise, roaring into the atmosphere and disappearing behind the clouds. She squinted, slapping away snowflakes as they brushed her face, and spun to scan the world around her. Blinding white. Frigid. Only one manmade building as far as she could see, and it didn't look very warm.

Act of mercy? Eryn begged to differ.

Already, her hands were growing numb. She tucked her long hair under her leather jacket, wrapping it like a scarf around her neck, and zipped it all the way up to her chin. Not that it'd do anything for her hands, and another twenty out here without the right gear meant bad news, so with the dogged determination of one who was used to navigating miserable situations, Eryn trudged through the snow towards the domes of the structures ahead, hands drawn up in her sleeves, breath making little clouds.

Good news was, it was big and, from what she could see, mostly deserted.
Bad news was, it was big.

Eryn sighed heavily as she hurried up a set of stone stairs, her ears stinging, wondering where the hell to look first. The snow was picking up, dancing around her face in greater density, and she needed somewhere warm and sheltered. Fast. Searching this whole place for that? Not fast. She passed a courtyard, giving the massive statue in front of the main building a suspicious glare before jogging into what looked like an ancient keep. There was a slight temperature difference, but not noticeable enough for her to stop and find a place to huddle down. She paused for a moment as she leaned against the cold stone wall, rubbing her hands together, teeth chattering.

Gods, she hated the cold.

|- [member="Damien Sinan"] -|
 
By now the temperature dropped by only a few degrees, but it didn't bother Damien much, since he was born and raised here. His cloak fluttered in the increasing wind, boots making that usual klak sound against the stone flooring.

The keep was still standing, surprisingly. Fires were still lit, and the meditation chamber was still intact, as if no one dared to touch anything in it. Damien took the chance to take a seat and meditate, waiting for the soon coming snowstorm to pass.


|- [member="Eryn"] -|
 
Like Sweet-Tarts Without The Sweet Part
Footfalls echoes through the hallway. Eryn pressed herself into the shadows in the corner, eyes wide, pulling her knife from her sleeve but they faded away, stopping altogether after a moment. She frowned, peering around suspiciously. She knew she couldn't stay here, but apparently she wasn't the only one wandering around the ruins and company made her jumpy, especially when she knew she had no true way out of the situation.

Clamping down on her chattering teeth, the fugitive crept on, gaze peeled and knife at the ready.

Her own boots were a very soft, flexible leather, and so she tread quietly through the icy halls, her silent footsteps a constant reminder of what she'd lost to [Member=Varik Ryjin] . She missed her thick, study boots with the double blades in the heels and toes. They were her wild card out of bad situations and had turned the tide for her against tougher opponents many times. She'd take their heavy reliability over stealth any day.

She paused when she saw the fires, brightly lit, dancing in the draft. Ahead, some kind of chamber, and the closer she got to it the more her insides twisted. Her gaze settled on the back of a seated figure, still as stone. Owner of the footsteps? Eryn set her jaw, flexed her fingers, and slunk forward with her knife ready, coming quietly up behind the person. She couldn't go back. She had to go on.

|- [Member=Damien Sinan] -|
 
I'm not alone...

Damien could feel the hairs standing up on his neck. He sensed another presence; another... life force. Whoever it was, he could feel the many emotions they were feeling. He calmly raised his hands, speaking in a low voice.

"I mean no harm to you..."

|- [member="Eryn"] -|
 
Like Sweet-Tarts Without The Sweet Part
"Yeah? That's what they all say right before they gut you." Eryn paused right behind him, tip of the blade just brushing the side of his neck. She shivered, fingers numb with cold, ears stinging. In retrospect, threatening random strangers (who clearly had some kind of sixth sense) with a knife when you could barely hold the handle was probably not a good idea, but Eryn was freezing beyond good ideas and rather unfamiliar with other ways of approaching people these days. Everyone was guilty until proven innocent. If she had to poke this guy full of holes to get some answers, she'd do it.

The fugitive tried to keep her voice steady, teeth from chattering, but it was difficult. She eyed the side of the man's face, noting the durasteel mask covering it. She prodded him with the knife, not roughly, but not gently. "Three questions, and I'll leave you alone. One, what planet is this? Two, where's the warmest part? And three, how do I get there?"


|- [member="Damien Sinan"] -|
 
Damien sat there, his breathing calm and collected. He could tell that she was in no mood to stay out in the cold. He noted her shivers and her teeth barely making contact in a small chatter. "I will tell you what you wish to know... if you remove that knife from my neck. If you do not comply, I will rip it from your hands myself." The last part of his sentence sounded dark, almost evil.

"It's entirely your choice. Just know that one bad choice leads to much worse consequences."



|- [member="Eryn"] -|
 
Like Sweet-Tarts Without The Sweet Part
Consequences? Eryn didn't like the sound of that at all. Half of her wanted to jam the tip into his neck to prove she wasn't kidding; on a better day with less snow? Maybe she would have. But the smarter part of her brain won out. She was in no shape to take on anyone, especially someone who liked to sit in the icy cold, creepy ruins of a snowy wasteland. The sharp metal left his neck, but she didn't put it away. She moved around him, knife held at the ready as she came to stand in front of him a few feet away.

His mask glinted in the firelight, and there was something about his voice that made you want to rethink threatening him, but Eryn's only concern right now was not freezing to death. Didn’t mean she couldn't try to give the guy a taste of his own medicine, though. Her teal gaze turned as frosty as her surroundings, jaw set in defiance. "Same to you, pal. 'Rip' anything from me and you'll be facing consequences, too." It was mostly posturing on her part, but sometimes acting the part was just as disarming, and it bought you enough time to make a new plan. "Now, about those answers…" The fugitive waved the knife a little. "Start talking."


|- [member="Damien Sinan"] -|
 
"Alright, fine. One, you're on the Rhen Var system. Two, the Crypt is the warmest, and three, you'll have to follow me."

Damien still didn't feel comfortable with the knife still in her hands. He moved his fingers, attempting to remove the knife from her hands with the force. If it didn't work, so be it. It almost seemed pathetic how she tried to threaten him in her condition. They were polar opposites when it came to the cold; He's used to it, she isn't.


|- [member="Eryn"] -|
 
Like Sweet-Tarts Without The Sweet Part
"The Crypt?" Great. There was no way 'follow me to the crypt, we have blankets' ever ended well. Eryn gave the masked stranger a skeptical look, but she was too cold to waste energy on a smartass retort. Mentally adding 'Rhen Var' on her 'Places To Avoid' list, she suppressed a shudder and sent the man a hesitant nod.

At this point, she didn't really have a choice. She wasn't dressed for the cold and winter wasn't coming: it was here.

" 'kay, fine. Unless you wanna give up your coat, I can't stay out here. So lead the way, whoever you are—" The knife flew out of her hands. Immediately, everything changed from her perspective. Where once was wild suspicion now grew complete and utter mistrust as she realized exactly how unbalanced the scales had just become. She thought about retrieving the knife in her other boot, but left it alone in case she needed it later. "Force user? My day just gets better and better. Look, just…stay out of my head and don't come near me, 'nd we won't have a problem. I'll follow you to the Crypt because I don't want frostbite, but if you try anything, I'll take my chances in the snow."

|- [member="Damien Sinan"] -|
 
Damien brushed the snow off of his armor, standing to walk to the halls. "Try not to lag behind." He led her through the winding hallways of the structure, going deeper and deeper down into it.

|- [member="Eryn"] -|
 

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