You Can't Stop the Beatdown (Sarge)

[Ashin Varanin]

Rach shrugged after a moment. "I can do it without talking. Weaker, sure. Less instantly lethal. But I can still do it. I'm just fascinated by how you did that, or knew how to do that. Ah well. Screw it."

Tendrils of darkness writhed around his empty left hand, then slashed out to ensnare Sarge. Seven tendrils, corrosive, half-substantial.

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

"Mysteries, mysteries.", he says, seemingly unperturbed. Three gunshots rang out, aimed for the spot between chestplate and groin protector. Likely, he'd sense them coming and stop them. He didn't much care. It would require him to break his concentration from the tentacle rape - provided it even worked like the rest of the Force.

 

[Ashin Varanin]

It did, in fact, work that way. As the Dark Master intercepted the slugs with his knifeblade -- yielding shards of knifeblade and not a lot of gut woulds -- the tendrils withered and faded. Rather than sacrifice them all, he cut his focus from four of them. The remaining three went to wrap around Sarge's gun hand, neck, and left ankle.

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

Another shot rang out, just to see what he'd do. Either way, tendrils were getting a bit too close for comfort and he didn't quite trust what they'd do. He began to back away out of reflex. He made another mental note; avoid Force Users like the plague in the future.

 

[Ashin Varanin]

Rach grimaced and stopped the shot with what remained of his knife. He threw it aside and refocused on the tendrils. Only two remained, now -- reaching for gun hand and left knee.

Length wasn't an issue. Neither was conservation of mass. It wasn't as if he was conjuring matter out of nothing; these could go quite long if necessary.

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

"Right. Well, can't say this was enjoyable." As he looked down at the tendrils snaking towards him, he sighed and did what anyone would do; he unloaded the last of his clip [four rounds] then clicked the clip release. The weapon was basically useless since by now the tendril would no doubt be around his wrist and he'd be hard pressed to reload.

As a point, he spoke that last sentence more as a realization that there really wasn't anything he could do at this point. Well, except try to cut the... sonofabi- he tried to cut the tendril around his wrist with the bayonet.

 

[Ashin Varanin]

Annnd-

The gun hand tendril cut and began to re-form. And it would have re-formed, if not for the left knee tendril getting a good solid grip and throwing Sarge about fifteen feet in the air.

Because tendrils were a really, really good focus for telekinetic manipulation. Feth, he'd used this to hang Anaya from a bedroom ceiling by her wrists.

Long story.

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

Sarge sighed.

Nothing to do now.

 

[Ashin Varanin]

The tendrils released.

"Welp. That was...pretty fething tough. Sorry. Linna Beorht mentioned you -- her dad and mine were friends, and we do shots sometimes -- and I figured I'd give it a shot. I mean, you made Avicus DuSang look like an idiot. Had to try my luck."

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

And then Sarge plummeted to the ground like a ragdoll.

Nothing broke.

He didn't even seem to take damage.

He sighed again, opting to just lay on the ground for now.

"I'm investing in ysalimir."

 

[Ashin Varanin]

"And, of course, by 'we do shots,' I mean 'we screw and whine about our idiot Jedi fathers and then I get inside her brain.'" The Dark Master shrugged. "She wanted to keep you private, for what it's worth. And yeah. Ysalamir are the way to go. If you can survive Dromund Kaas, there's a ton of'em that nobody knows about. Cheers."

He walked off.