Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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#thebreakup

[member="Spark Finn"]

The three warriors surrounding Spark, being the closest, were flung the farthest. One of them smacked into a tree with a gruesome crunch, but was probably alright. The other two wound up several dozen yards away in various patches of undergrowth, dazed and confused. Water boilers could do magic. Magic was real. Their whole worlds were turned upside down. There had been two others that had a little more distance from Spark. One had been approaching, but was subsequently bowled over when she lashed out with the Force. The lookout only had enough time to turn around before he was knocked flat on his back as well.

Somewhere in orbit, ostensibly on the Lucrehulk, Darth Adekos smiled at the development. All according to plan.

Spark's mad rush back to the village had her leaping over the lookout, who had since rolled onto his stomach. Reacting quickly, he lunged forward and tried to grab her ankle, potentially causing her to fall flat on her face. He was yelling something in that wonderful tribal dialect we all enjoy so much- something pertaining to witchcraft and how he might have to set her on fire. The good things. In the distance, further away from the village, a war horn suddenly sounded- a low pitched and foreboding thing. That was probably the signal. While Spark was probably fighting for her right to keep on running, the other tribesman that had been bowled over but not completely neutralized was standing back up, hand pressed to his forehead as if to alleviate some great pain.
 

Spark Finn

Encrypt Code: 1989//
[member="Darth Adekos"]

Someone didn't get a fistful of ankle. They got a fistful of handwoven skirt, instead. #frumpy. The slicer lurched forward, rolled, and shot back to her feet as an article of clothing was rewarded to the bb tribesman.

#myskirt #nosouvenirs

Now she was just in a shirt and mud-covered skinny jeans that would probably need about 20+ sanisteams. Just to be sure she stopped that hitch hiker, the blunt end of the 'borrowed' spear in her hands angled backward for a quick jab toward the guy's jaw. Mother Willow, the head water boiler and Hunter liaison from Leaky Leaf tribe would be quite proud of her.

#lookatthemutenow

And the sudden horn whatever-it-was didn't make her stop, it just made her gangly limbs pump faster. Free hand curled around her lower ribs. Side stitches were no joke. #thestrugglewasreal

Blue-eyes focused ahead. She was coming to the village's outer perimeter. Hands waved wildly as the mute suddenly found her voice and spoke in broken tribal language.

"RUN!!!!!!"

She wanted to say more but didn't have the words both in language and in breath.
 

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