Runt and his warband had been sent ahead to scout the mines earlier, and had been supposed to report to Tu'teggacha and Ptolemis when they arrived. Sent early by the machinations of Runt's new master,
Maestus
, though none knew of that. Perhaps to discover what lay in these depths before the others, or to test Runt.
However, their ambition and rush to be the first had caused... problems. Namely, the insane, half-dead horde of miners driven into a frenzy that now surrounded Runt's small force in the bowels of the mining station.
"
Get off!" Runt yelled, pushing yet another miner off him with his Blade, slicing the miner's belly open. The rest of the warband were shouting back and forth, trying to coordinate a retreat through the pitch-black that had descended on them when the emergency lights went out. The muzzle flash of guns and the dull glow of Dread Blades were the only illumination left, and Runt got to his feet, trying to re-orient himself.
He instinctually opened himself to the Force, and grasped at it in his mind, willing it to direct him. A strong pull to hs left, and he spotted the edges of the corridor they had come from illuminated by the gunfire of one of the warriors.
"
Back this way!" he yelled, slicing through the miners in his way. The warriors could make out Runt's direction by the movement of his blade and followed suit. For their part, the Scar Hounds were surprisingly disciplined. No one dropped their gun to run away, no one shot another to get ahead. They all knew they would live or die as one here. Runt could not claim credit for it, but he did appreciate that no one tried to shoot him in the back even as he sliced through the skull of two miners.
The warband trundeled back, the hallways now slightly better illuminated by marker lights they had set on the corridors earlier. They came to a junction.
"
Hang right!" Runt instinctively yelled from the back of the column, feeling the Force press into him again. Maestus' lesson had not gone unremembered.
Which was a good thing, as the warband barreled into an almost solid wall of crazed creatures that took up the corridor. They were mad with hunger and rage, their bodies piled up and pressed together in a compact wall of flesh, bones breaking under the sheer weight of the group, and still on the wall seemed to inch forward towards the warband, forcing them back into the running horde of miners.
"
We're cut off!" one of the Hounds shouted.
Runt charged to the front of the group, his blade attempting to cut through the mass of miners.
"
Keep the runners at the back away! I'll make a way through!"
But it was no use. The blade was not a lightsaber; even if it were, the density of twisted bodies was too much to cut through without receiving bites and strikes from the arms reaching out from the grasping wall. Runt chanced a glance back and saw the other path out of the junction had collapsed somehow. In sheer desperation, Runt turned back to the wall and hacked away at it. He could feel the Dread Blade almost blunt from the repeated strikes.
But it was not enough. Indignant panic filled Runt.
I won't die here. I can't die here. You won't make me die here!
An arm grabbed his blade arm and Runt reacted, feeling again the Force surge through his limbs, and he grabbed hold of it, twisting and willing it forward.
His other hand swung forward at the wall and a blast of air smashed into the wall. A hole appeared in the mass of flesh, some of its component bodies flung back by the impact of the Force Push. Feeling hope, Runt wrenched away and did it again, channeling another Force Push, and another, the compressive force shattering and breaking bones, organs and
meat as the monstrous press of flesh was flung apart by the Force. The constituent cultists were completely shattered by the press of bodies and the Pushes, their discarded bodies and limbs twisted and discarded like refuse, bent at unholy geometries.
"
We're through!" the Hounds rushed after Runt, firing backward at the miners still chasing them. After a few minutes of running combat that felt like hours, the warband made it to the last blast door before the shuttle hangar. But blocking the hallway leading to the blast door was a gigantic droid. Its sensors rotated rearwards to the warband. Makeshift guns fired before the Hounds could react, gunning down several of the Hounds and some of the miners that had come to close into the arc of fire.
Runt and the Hounds found what cover they could, but they could only hope the droid would leave or find another way out. None of their weapons would be able to directly harm it, especially in the tight confines.
"
We need to take out its guns! They're not shielded!"
"
How? We can't pick 'em off accurately under these conditions!" One of the others cried out, covering the rear of the Hounds by shooting at the miners that still came down the hallway they had come through, albeit now in smaller numbers.
"
Who had the ion blaster?"
"
Me, but we've only got a few shots left."
"
Make it count, we'll cover you!" Runt ordered, and the Hounds peeked over their makeshift cover and firing. Two more went down as the Hounds with the broken ion rifle aimed and fired, taking out the blasters welded onto the machine.
Runt was about to order they double back and lose the droid in the tunnels before escaping, when a sudden shockwave in the Force rippled through him.
Darth Ptolemis takes a step away from the Taskmaster, and turns toward the closest row of incoming attackers, but instead of drawing his saber, he draws upon something far, far more destructive. He stands completely still. With each passing moment, they get closer. Dangerously close. Yet in the next moment, his eyes flash a bright orange, and following a deep sonic boom, all through his cone of vision
a devastating wave of atomizing hatred bores a wide tunnel through the influx of frenzied workers. Their moist pockets of remains plop on the floor unceremoniously. The Force power comes and goes in a matter of a single second.
The surge in the Force stunned Runt and he fell over from cover, having to be dragged back into cover by one of his men. The pure, raw power had been felt by all here, but Runt was completely shaken by it. He could feel the psychic after-effects of a true Sith, the wake of his power imprinting into his mind. Runt moaned in pain, trying to force his mind to re-pattern back into itself, overriding the primal roar of Ptolemis that lingered.
When Runt re-oriented his mind, recovering from the shock, he looked back in the direction they had come from: the miners that had been chasing them were dead.
"
Where are the runners?"
"
None left here," one of the Hounds replied from her place behind a stack of boxes.
Well, that's one less threat...
But right as the flaming orange fury behind his mask dies down, with many more of the maniacs still running at them, his gaze snaps to the great blastdoor that leads further into the station. It slams open and reveals a large, quadrupedal loading droid with white, glowing eyes. Barely fitting through the gate, each step it takes toward the group of Tyra's marauders shakes the ground beneath them.
With the Hounds forced into cover and hiding, the droid turned back to the blast door, remotely opening it and stepping through. Runt ordered the remnants of his warband to stay low and tail the droid at a distance. As they reached the blast door, they could see the hangar, crawling with miners attacking other Mawites.
"
Take out the droid for real this time! Keep it distracted while the others in the hangar lay on the heavy firepower! You two with the chain-blades, follow me!" The warband fanned out behind the droid, taking cover behind the cargo boxes in the hangar and opening fire. Meanwhile, Runt and two of the Hounds charged ahead past the droid and into the fray of miners, trying to cut their way through to the surrounded Sith.
