The Heart of Rot

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Ash choked Atrisia's skies as another bout of violent storms pulled her into its cacophonous grasp. There were parts of the world that had been touched by restoration efforts by its would-be conquerors, but this place was not one of them.

It was here that a palace had once stood, and here that a palace stood no longer. All greenery had been scythed from its surface, as if the handy of a malignant god had swept away all semblance of life during the world's death throes. The cement beneath the layers of ash and soot was cracked. The concrete of the buildings was infested with an unearthly rot the color of gore that seemed to corrode everything it touched.

This place was truly dead, and a dead land was a forgotten one. Not a single living soul had set foot in the palace's ghostly halls; the ground was hallowed of a most unholy sort. Thus it was that the Recorder had chosen to make it his home.

The ghastly creature lingered over its mass of tattered books and haphazardly written note. Its alien eyes peered down at the inscriptions, and its mouth parts moved into what might have been a grin.

"You'll all have another night," it muttered, its voice bubbling with mold and unkempt growths. The being turned toward the subjects of its attentions; namely the cell that held its newest companions.

Some had been captured by the Recorder's minions while they were making smuggling runs. Some of the Jedi had come looking to purify its realm, or had felt its presence when it had allowed them to. Others still were random miscreants his servants had abducted.

All had strong spirits. All would make a proper offering.

"Make yourselves comfortable. Everything will be made clear soon enough," the Recorder hacked with raspy laughter. It turned away from the group with a sway of its robed arm. "Welcome to my home."

The sound of padding feet lingered as the Recorder meandered off into the darkness of its perverse kingdom.

The cell itself was of an older design, but it was robust. Any weapons or communication devices the hostages might have been carrying were absconded to another chamber. The room itself was dark, lit only by a few small candles, and particularly damp. A single guard - a lanky fellow dressed in red robes and armed with a blaster pistol - was seated a few meters away from the cell, his attentions stolen by an archaic looking book.

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

Cold, it was all so cold. It hadn't been very long since he had left the safe confines of the Baran-Do Sage palace of his homeworld. The world looked bleak and old as his eyes meekly looked about cold dark cell in which he currently inhabited. His eyes twitched, his cheek full and throbbing with a tinge of purple, scewing his view of the small cage.

He hardly was able to make much of his surroundings before a burning sensation inflicted itself on his mind, a painful migraine that returned his thoughts to a morbid curiosity. What had happened to bring him here? He remembered, something of a fight. Beyond that, not much else. He felt entirely unwelcomed here, and it caused him great distress. He was damp, his robe was clinging to him uncomfortable as he lay painfully in the corner of the cell. He grimaced, his breath returning him to a form of focus. The robotic nature of his mask giving him a sense of self as he pulled himself onto his knees, arms clasped upon each other. Waking his body to the morning that had come, that was another thought. How much time had passed? He was unaware, but not so concerned that he did not realise he was alone. He hunched overhimself, centering himself and allowing the will of the Baran-Do to sooth his worry.

The Kel Dor clung to the corner of the room, not wishing to be much more than something of an irritant in the corner of whosever's eyes were equally disturbed by this rude and unexpected awakening.

 

[Draconis Caesar]

Draconis awoke to the sound of rasping laughter. He lifted his head to peer at a being of a hideous nature. It struck fear in Draconis’s heart and for a moment he forgot his meditations. He quickly remembered the flame and void. He threw his emotions and thoughts into the flame, as his feelings disintegrated he became one with the nothingness that remained. He had come here to heal Atrisia. To help the thousands of refugees that still wandered the planet. He had meandered through broken buildings and dark alleys healing the sick and dying world, one person at a time. But as he went deeper into the capitol of this broken planet he found that not all of Atrisia was ready to be healed.

Tainted by the gathering of so many Sith who had sacrificed themselves in a dark barbaric ritual the presence of darkness on Atrisia was ever prevalent. The people avoided the heart of the corruption without even seeming to notice it. Draconis knew this is where the force had beckoned him too. He was to cleanse this corruption and finally bring peace to the war wracked planet. As he ventured further into the taint he was attacked by several hooded assailants. He was knocked unconscious and hadn't the faintest idea what happened after that.

Draconis picked himself off the ground of the cell as the creature left the vicinity. Draconis was clothed in his usual white hooded robes, but it soon became apparent the robes were all they left him with. He felt naked without his saber, if he had it he could have easily broken out. But, unfortunately he did not. So he was content to meditate for a moment and ponder his situation. Draconis sat on the ground and crossed his legs. He felt the cold embrace of the void, the rough surface beneath him, the air entering and exiting his lungs. He had achieved a state no mind, but it brought him no clarity. The taint of the darkside clouded everything and he found any message the light may have delivered to him was lost in the sea of blight

 

[Tyris Hayes]

Tyris sat quietly in the back of the cell, he did not care much for cells, but he knew with whatever that thing was watching him he was not going to get very far if he ran. So he sat quietly, waiting for whatver mission they had for him. He stuck a cigarette in his mouth and lit it with one of the candles sitting around the room. He looked to the man sitting in the red robes, he did not seem to show much emotion. He tried to get a look at the book, he was reading, but the language was foreign to him. The AI companion which had been lodged in his brain by a computer virus did not seem to recognize the language either, it was strange for her, she seemed to know everything when he didn't want her too.

Tyris got a look at his companions in cell, a wide range of people, none like him, at the very least, he wondered how they had ended up here. He just blacked out drunk and woke up in this cell, he had no clue where he was, they probably did. They seemed rather quiet as well, nobody had even bothered to introduce themselves. If they wanted to get out of this, they would have to learn how to work together real quick, or end up doing whatever that creature wanted them to do, which by the looks of things probably was not good.

"Since nobody else seems ready to introduce themselves I might as well start. My name is Tyris Hayes, and i'm a former Dominion Dreadguard and now mercenary. Its a pleasure." He said to the group.

He hoped some slight courtesy starting out would start everyone off on good terms, they would need to cooperate if they wanted to get out, that was for sure.

 

[Emile Kaiden]

If Emile had been conscious before the laughing figure spoke, he'd given no indication. Even after the being supposedly left, he moved scarcely more than a muscle, with not even a pulse giving clue to his status. The majority of his focus, information gathering reliant only on sound and sensory organs bred specifically to identify the strong and their delectable soup, had become almost a bit of a game for him of which his cellmates were probably unaware. Such games, where the only real contestant and winner were one and the same, had become a common occurrence with the man, and perhaps what had gotten him into this predicament. Oh well. This wasn't the first time he'd pay a price for playing with his food.

Exact details of his capture were unavailable to the otherwise fairly well-tuned memory of the Anzat. From what he did piece together, it'd happened in the midst of a feeding or perhaps immediately after. Regardless, he wasn't exactly concerned as to what this all meant. His last meal would allot him plenty of strength should the time come that strength be necessary. Even if there came a time where his strength faltered, it seemed he had plenty of resources within his proximity.

It wasn't until one spoke that Emile relented in his imagined game. With an inhale, he sat up, now looking at each cellmate in turn with a gaze that twinkled with an odd combination of mild amusement and complete apathy. He stood with fluidity that screamed danger and composure all at once. His voice, a high tenor, followed suit in the other's introduction. "Emile Kaiden," came his simple response.

 

[Kyle Raymus]

Kyle blinked rapidly as he came to his senses. What was he doing in this dingy cell? Why was he on this deserted and rotten planet? The cell stank of mould. He was supposed to be sitting in a posh hotel room on Coruscant but now he was tossed into a cell, completely disarmed, among a bunch of other individuals. He stood up, staggering, then fell back down to the floor. He was still weak. There was a gash in his leg. It hurt, but it wasn't bad enough to hinder him in combat too much. He slowly saw fragments fly through his mind. His RZ-110's wreck, gliding through space amongst the asteroids. A ship with searchlights... some... droid? He couldn't see it all clearly, and it was merely pieces of an eeirie picture, one he probably didn't want to see. He made yet another effort to stand up, but he failed yet again. He would have to sit and regqin some strength before he did anything. One of the men introduced himself as a former Dreadguard of the Dominion. Kyle's only superior, the only man he took orders from, was a former dominion warrior too. He didn;t know much about the dominion, but Kyle assumed that they didn't stand too well with the sith. That meant that they had a better chance of getting along.

"Kyle Raymus, Shrouded Republic Admiral, Dominion Remnant"

Kyle replied simply, and gave the former dreadguard a nod.

He looked around at the others. He didn't know any of them. Were they sith? Jedi? Friends or Foes? They would probably be on his side, since whatever the creature that passed by their cell was, it made it clear that it wasn't friendly with the group of prisoners. Not by a long shot.

"One night huh? Well in that case..."

Kyle trailed off. Death. It was something he feared deeply. More-so than the average sentient. He certainly wasn't a coward, no. But he did not like death. He didn't want to see people die. He didn't want to die himself. He shivered as his mind threw gory pictures of bloodied bodies at him. He made an effort and shoved them to the back of his head, clearing his mind. His eyes danced around the cell, looking for any way of escape, with childish hope, though deep inside, he knew there was no escape. Atleast not at this moment. He had but one option. He would have to wait...

 

[Trajan Golovkin]

Just what the kark happened? Trajan asked himself as soon as he started waking up from the kinetic blunt trauma induced sleep he was in. His head pounded hard as he felt around his skull to the bruise in the back side of his head. It hurt, it would hurt tomorrow too, ice would do the trick... he was hoping this was just another regular hangover. Boy was he wrong. As his eyes adjusted he heard the familiar voice of[member="Tyris Hayes"] and thought he was dreaming. He felt around his belt for his service pistol and was now in full panic mode, his pistol was gone and so was his machine gun. [member="Rusty"] made some fine weaponry and his machine gun was his baby, he spent a pretty penny buying it and now it was gone. "I'm going to kill someone..."

Cerberus payed well, better than the Dominion that's for sure... last thing he remembered he was on his way with a band of spacers to hunt down and capture a live starweird.... he remembered something hard coming in colision with his head while still in the ship and now he was here. Wherever the kark here even karking was. First question, yeah, let's roll with that.

He heard others introduce themselves but it was as if they were far away, he was slowly coming back to the plane of the living bit by bit. "Trajan Golovkin, I work for Cerberus but I was Dominion before that" His body shuffled forward and suddenly it hit him... he was in a karking cage. "Oh... Bantha Chit..." He said in exasperated annoyance, eyes looking to his right to see if he recognized anyone else.

"Anyone know where we are? Who the kark is that guy with the book and what the kark are we doing here?" He crawled a bit to the bars and tested them, he had never seen bars like these before. His hands clasped them and pulled hard, no dice. He produced a flask of Balmorrean Blue Sky he kept in his person, yeah Cerberus payed well, and downed it in one gulp.... he was going to need it.

 

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DM/Character Post

"You're on Atrisia."

The voice belonged to a shadowed figure in the corner of the room. The figure rose to its feet and stepped forward. Eyes the shade of winter narrowed as they perused the cell's other occupants in the way a butcher might look over a flock of chickens.

Then he spoke again. "I came here to make a personal trip. This was all unknown to me," he waved about the cell with a gloved hand. He'd foregone a cloak in favor of a fur lined jacket, denying him some of the presence he had hoped for. "Though I have been here the longest. There were two before me, but they're gone now; sacrificed to a god I've never heard of." Thudding footfalls echoed throughout the halls. One could pick up three different people in motion were they to listen closely enough. For the moment, they were distant echo, but they grew closer with every moment gone by.

Panic flashed through Cedric like bolt of lightning; the patrol would be delivering the night's meal to their beleaguered guests. It was the only time they would have access to the outside before whatever was going to happen the next day.

"That's the warden and his servant. They'll be bringing food," he paused, his gaze shifting from one cellmate to the next. "The warden's a Gen'dai. I don't know about the other one. There are far more of us than there are of him - if we rush them, we might have a chance."

The footfalls drew closer, and seemed to grow heavier with every step.

Cedric drew in a deep breath, focused on his connection to ethereal, and exhaled.

"You have about five seconds to decide."

The doors flung open. An armor clad Gen'dai and Togorian stepped through them.

[member="Trajan Golovkin"], [member="Kyle Raymus"], [member="Emile Kaiden"], [member="Tyris Hayes"], [member="Vendrick of Amar"], [member="Draconis Caesar"]

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

Vendrick took to his feet as both guards entered the room. He looked around at his compatriots feeling a mixture of both fear, and a desire to know exactly why he was here.

He didn't quite like the sound of being sacrificed to a God, but even so he felt a calm rush over him. It was just a jail cell, there wasn't anything too traumatic happening, yet.

But, he didn't quite appreciate this Cedric's suggestion, attack their captors? Not likely. He didn't seem to quite grasp their peril. Whomever had captured them had been able to subdue and place each member of their group within this cell without much of a fight, or so it appeared.

Vendrick most certainly didn't plan on getting involved unless everyone else did first. He readied himself, to if necessary, cloak himself and escape whilst the others fought.

 

[Tyris Hayes]

Tyris did not like his odds. A togorian and a gendai were not easy prey, he would have to think quickly. His best chance would be getting some sort of weapon. The guard probably had a blaster, it would just be a matter of running past two massive wardens, disarming the guard, and then blasting them both, which he knew wouldn’t faze the gendai in the slightest. His superhuman abilities would only get him so far. He had to weigh which was worse, fighting a Gendai, or dying during some obscure ritual to whatever their captor was.
“What are my odds” Tyris mentall asked his AI companion.

“My data is limited, but they aren’t good, 5% with a 5% margin of error.” She replied.

“Fantastic”

“Why do you even ask? You know they aren’t good.”

“The thought of the sweet release of death is enough for me” He answered, one might take it as darkly comedic, he was dead serious.

Being force dead, he did not get the luxury of becoming one with the force. When he died that was it, his existence ended right there. Tyris did not care much for being existent anyway, it just brought him pain and suffering every time, he cared little about when he died but how. He did not fear death, he only feared dying without a fight.

He quickly looked around the room, there was not much to speak of only old school candles and people. The door opening was almost enough air to knock out the candles. Hot candle wax would be a useful weapon agains the togorian, but by that point he would be pounded into a bloody pulp by the gendai. His odds were not good, but he was not keen to let himself be killed with his hands tied behind his back, executed by some deranged creature obsessed with obscure gods. If he was going to die, he was going to go down fighting.

He ripped one of the candle saunters from the wall quickly hiding it behind his back after blowing out the candle. He lurked around the door, hoping others saw him and began to do the same. As the wardens began to make their way through the door, Tyris said just a few words. In a vague attempt to confuse them so they expected what came next

“Sirs I must ask you, what is your conceptual continuity?”

He then proceeded to splash the hot wax on the Togorians face, hoping his plan worked, and others would have done something in the meantime. He knew how these situations worked. They wanted them to think they were helpless, when really, if they all worked together, the wardens were the ones who were helpless, all they needed to do was think as one, not as individuals.

 

[Emile Kaiden]

"We're to believe you're here under the same circumstances as us?" Emile had little care his cellmates, where they came from or why any of them were here. All of them would be under his scrutiny until proven trustworthy, something Emile doubted would happen. Good. He'd have no problem betraying them later should the need arise. Still, for now, he'd feign concern for the group as a whole.

He needed a bit more than five seconds to decide. More specifically, his participation depended on the meal being served. That didn't stop him from moving, however, standing with the fluidity and elegance one could expect from a predator of nature. He took toward the corner of the room, closest to the cell door. There were hardly anything in the room that constituted as a weapon, a fact that'd effect the other cellmates more so than him. He'd let others make the first move, using stealth as his utmost advantage.

With the warden and servant's arrival, he bid his time, moving not a muscle until both were completely within the cell. The Gen'dai would be difficult to deal with, his guard a lot less of a challenge. Part of Emile wanted to ignore them both, slip past them and take care of the watch outside the cell. When the old solider stepped forward, attacking the servant with hot wax, he stilled Emile's action. Against his better judgment, spurred by the old man's eagerness to act, he paused just short of exiting the cell. He didn't attack the Togorian directly, favoring instead a telepathic attack of sorts, turning his attention toward slowing the servant, confusing his retaliation.

[member="Vendrick of Amar"] | [member="Cedric Grayson"] | [member="Trajan Golovkin"] | [member="Kyle Raymus"] | [member="Tyris Hayes"]​

 

[Draconis Caesar]

Draconis stood from his sitting position. Still encompassed in the meditative void he felt nothing. He heard the others around him begin to introduce themselves and merely nodded along. He atempted to sense the intentions of those around him, but the darkside clouded the place and he found it almost impossible to use the force without subjecting himself to its taint.

“I am Draconis Caesar padawan of The Jedi Order,” He stated mildly.

He approached Trajan as the man held his head. He appeared to have a large knot on his head from a previous blow. Draconis touched the force despite the darkness surrounding the area.

“If you’ll allow me,” He said soothingly as he placed a hand to the man's head.

He attempted to feel the wound, but found he couldn't even sense the man in the force. It was as if he was non existent... As Draconis attempted to heal the mercenary the cell was approached by a pair of guards bringing food. This was their chance. They had the numbers, they just needed the courage. The old Dominion cyborg known as Tyris approached the Tygorian and splashed hot wax in his face. Draconis moved just as quickly, rushing the guards. He ran at the Gen’dai and pelted him with his fist, using the echani martial arts to assault the alien with ruthless efficiency. At the end of his assault he used his leg like a whip aiming it at the Gen’dai’s head. He spun deftly round and his leg arced outwards as he did so, seeking a connection.

 

[Kyle Raymus]

Kyle stood up shakily as the guards approached. Their footsteps echoed heavily. Both were massive, to say the least.

Kyle looked at both guards as they walked into the room. He readied himself. One of them was a Gen'Dai. That mass of nerve and muscle could be a very big problem. They did not have any weapons that could vaporize the monster. But the warden outside did. He was busy reading his weird book. Kyle readied himself.

The guards entered with the small tray of food. One of the men splashed the Tygorian's face with boiling wax. [member="Draconis Caesar"] smashed the Gen'Dai with moves from the Echani martial arts list. Kyle used his chance, grabbing the tray the Tygorian dropped and rushing out of the cell, launching it straight at the warden's face. It flew beuatifully, straight for the warden's face. It would hurt a lot if it connected. Kyle meanwhile slid along the floor and made a kick towards the chair the man was sitting on, hoping to topple it over with the guard.

[member="Recorder"] | [member="Emile Kaiden"] | [member="Tyris Hayes"] | [member="Vendrick of Amar"] | [member="Cedric Grayson"] | [member="Trajan Golovkin"] |

 

[Trajan Golovkin]

When [member="Cedric Grayson"] spoke, Trajan activated like a bloody sentinel in survival mode. Boots hit the ground and he stood up like the speed of sound. No weapons? No problem. He was Valkyr, his body and strength were many times the ones of a regular human so without finesse and without coordination in his movements of a martial artist he joined the attack against the Gen'Dai throwing his entire frame and weight behind his shoulder bum rush. He sought to pin the thing to the wall and begin smashing his face in hit after hit. If he got hurt, it was no issue, he was a warrior first and deep down... he wanted to brag about this poodoo to the guys in Cerberus. Like. "I beat this Gen'Dai all by myself" or "I went Alexander on his Muscle bound arse"

He screamed, no subtlety, no class just brute force. He still had his armor and the weight of the durasteel plates on his shoulder would definitely hurt even a Gen'Dai. With his hand in the air as he charge he gave a wave of it to him, it was an infantry signal, the universal signal that he then shouted with words. "Follow Me!" he was never an infantry grunt, but he operated with them more than once and technically... he was one for Cerberus. Right?

[member="Kyle Raymus"] [member="Draconis Caesar"] [member="Emile Kaiden"] [member="Tyris Hayes"] [member="Vendrick of Amar"] @Recorder​