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Jazen
Beelzaboot
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Jun 20, 2011 23:05:55 GMT -5
Post by Jazen on Jun 20, 2011 23:05:55 GMT -5
Yavor had to admit....the boy had some skill. Enough to put up an effective barrier against the first few waves of red and blue bolts that seered his way. No, that wasn't quite right. He blocked "most" of the shots that came his way but a decent amount of them were slipping through his quick defense, others missing as some of the men tried to force him to go one way over the other.
Yavor watched him carefully. From the minute the boy had declared himself a Jedi, he'd been watching his actions very closely. After all, if the boy was indeed one of that privileged class of Force users.....then Yavor's day had just gone from wonderful...to exquisite. Most people in his line of work would question his sanity about going up against a Jedi with a smile, their tales of heroism and awe spread far across the galaxy. For many slavers, going against a Jedi was like asking to be put down...permanently in some cases.
But Yavor and his crew weren't your everyday slavers. After all, while they did hand over the normal fare of slavery often enough, Yavor and his crew were more specialized for a certain kind of slave.
The kind that wielded the magical power of the Force.
The Cathar woman had it; not nearly as experience as a Jedi perhaps, but enough to at least make her sell for a decent price to the right owner. A Jedi...fully trained and in good physical condition...well, the price for him would be much greater. It helped that he was a bit of a looker too; that would help him sell that much faster. Still...for all their experience, his crew had only dealt with those who'd been just coming into their abilities or didn't know how or what they were using. A Jedi represented a new kind of challenge for them....and they weren't without their own trumps for this event.
After all, Yavor and Rilos both were the darkness colored versions of their Jedi brothers.
As he watched the young Jedi fight the bolts coming his way, Rilos frowned a bit. The lad had skill, enough to keep from burning himself with his own saber and to deflect a good portion of the bolts seering the air. But...his actions almost seemed sluggish, like he wasn't moving as fast or as sharp as he could. His mind mirrored that; it was murky, dazzed almost. Was he that bad of a Jedi or...perhaps there was another factor that was contributing to their good luck? Either way...this bumbling fool of a Jedi, no matter how skilled he was....from what Rilos saw, he would be dealt with swiftly enough.
Most of the men had body armor, so if their bolts came back at them, they at least could survive the first shot long enough to take proper cover. Only a few actually took a near hit though, as most of the Jedi's deflections went wide. And when Rilos made his attack, they lowered their weapons, creating a perimeter instead, making sure that no one assisted...and that the Jedi had no where to run.
His red saber struck out again and again,more for the purpose of keeping the boy occupied while Yavor worked his real magic in the distance. That didn't mean he wasn't either...very slowly and as quietly as he could, he was sending small pushes towards Locke's nerves, making him falter here and there in several of his blocks. For the most part, it was easy; the boy's mind being as clouded as it was, it didn't take much to give it a gentle nudge here and there. Again and again his saber whipped out in circles of a red and violent surge towards Locke, never letting the boy a chance to catch his breath or reposition himself. Sooner or later, he knew, the boy would tire, either through his attack or the blaster bolts that would hound him if the tried to flee...or if Yavor decided to get more involved then he was already intending to be.
One his lunges scored a solid hit, burning a decent chunk of Locke's shoulder as the blade passed by. To his credit, the boy didn't cry out...but even he knew that with only one good arm to fight with in this situation, he would have to try something else. So he did...first in the form of a hard strike at his elbow. Rilos saw the move coming though, catching it easily with his own blade and snapping the attack aside....and then he felt the boy trying to attack his mind. And despite himself, Rilos burst out laughing as he pushed aside the futile attempt on his mind, then preparing a burst of the Force to send the charging Locke flying as he stepped to the side to avoid the impaling strike.
And it was at that moment that Yavor struck himself, slamming a hard mental strike into Locke's mind, designed for the sole purpose of making every nerve in his body suddenly feel like it was on fire, though more specifically, he targeted the arm holding the saber. It was perfect timing really; with any luck, the move would cause the Jedi to loose his balance long enough for Rilos's push to knock him right off his feet. And if he fell, he'd find himself facing the blade of Rilos...and half a dozen blasters aimed at his form still.
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Rugs
The ring-dang-doo, now what is that?
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Jun 22, 2011 17:03:12 GMT -5
Post by Rugs on Jun 22, 2011 17:03:12 GMT -5
For the second time in a night, Locke realized he'd bitten off more than he could chew.
The man, whoever he was, was good. Likely too good for Locke when he wasn't already worn from an earlier battle and nearly drunk to boot. With him inhibited the way he was now...
Fear started to knot his stomach. His shoulder yet screamed in pain, but there wasn't anything to do for it. Nothing but strike and fight to get away. And try to save the girl, if possible. So he struck.
Cut at the elbow. Blocked. Not completely unexpected, though.
When he struck at the man's mind, his eyes widened. Locke wasn't a specialist at telepathy, but he was not slouch with it either. Yet, for all his ability with the area, he couldn't harness it all with his mind clouded by alcohol. But he had a feeling it wouldn't have mattered.
His presence hit a wall as he tried to slam into the man's mind. It was abrupt, sudden--as unyielding as the side of a durasteel bunker might be to his bare, unstrengthened fist. The sheer impact was enough to stun Locke with surprise for a moment. He gasped quietly and his step faltered as he started to lunge.
It was all for nothing, though.
The man shrugged his attack aside like it was nothing, and easily sidestepped Locke's lunge. As he moved past, Locke tried to stop himself, to spin on his heel and follow through with a swipe of his blade. But his body wouldn't cooperate. He still felt slow, like his movements were being hindered by some invisible Force.
All the frustration he'd bottled from earlier in the night began to rush back to the surface. He bared his teeth in an angry snarl, and started to turn...
Right as a blast of the Force slammed into his back and sent him flying through the air. His stomach dropped as his body left the ground. He yelled in surprise, and then in fear as he was attacked again. Pain, hot and fiery, exploded through his body. He tried to push back against the foreign presence he felt affecting him. They were too strong, though. Far too strong for him in the state he was in.
His eyes squeezed shut of their own volition when the pain hit him. He stuck his free arm out to try to break his fall. A bolt of pain shot up it when he landed; the weight of his body fell right onto his palm before he crumpled to the ground and rolled a few time.
The sound of movement and weapons being raised was lost on him as he lay there in a heap. He could hear his own saber, humming softly near his head. A soft groan broke his lips as he looked up. His wrist hurt a lot. He could still move it alright, so it wasn't broken but it was likely sprained.
"Why can't..." He said softly as he tried to pick himself up. It was hard. He was disoriented, his mind hadn't cleared any, and his arm was screaming in pain. "Why can't I..." He took his saber in his right hand, and shook his head to get his hair out of his eyes. Then he looked up.
His blood ran cold with terror.
He was surrounded. The men had formed a circle around him and stood with weapons aimed at him. Right in front of him, with his blade hovering near Locke's chest, was their leader.
"No," he whispered, his voice shaky. These men were slavers. If he lost to them...
"No, no, no." He shook his head, as if that could make it better. "I can't... Not like this..." Locke could feel tears welling in his eyes as he looked up at the man with the lightsaber. "I can't lose again... Not like this..."
Why? Locke's shoulders dropped as he sat on his knees, looking up at his captor. Why am I so weak? Once again, his mind filled with images of his spar with Tylan. Images of defeat after defeat after defeat.
Those pictures lit a spark of anger.
How can I face the Trials if I can't even face this? How can I be a Knight if I can't even protect myself?
The tears dried up. The desperate, helpless stare became a glare of fury and defiance. "I'm not going with you," he hissed. The Force swelled in him.
Normally, his mind would warn him that he was about to do something very, very stupid. But that part had long been silenced.
Locke hand blurred as he stood to his feet, batting that lightsaber away from him with his own. He focused as best he could through his limitations and struck out again at the man's mind. Once. Twice. "You won't take me!" He yelled. And then he raised both hands, ignoring the pain from his burned and sprained left arm, and threw the stiffest push he could muster.
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Jazen
Beelzaboot
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Rocking from the Great White North
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Jun 24, 2011 21:42:25 GMT -5
Post by Jazen on Jun 24, 2011 21:42:25 GMT -5
Rilos didn't even need to try, nor did Yavor's mental burning of Locke's entire body come into play for his attack. That force push sent the stumbling Jedi flying forward, his limbs flailing ever so slightly as the boy tried to find some purchase in which to steady himself on. None came. And as if to make the situation of landing gracefully from this attack harder, Yavor's attack on his mind, his nerves, found its timing perfectly.
Both men could feel it in the boy; the fear, the confusion, the rage. The pain, the anguish, the panic that was slowly devouring that cocky and sure of himself attitude in massive strides. It was sweet to their senses when they felt prey go through the cycle; and no more so with this Jedi. Proud warriors that they were, defenders of the light and keepers of justice, not afraid of death if it meant the common man or the people in need were sparred from that fate. And here was one broken, afraid that his time was coming, his mind a flurry of ideas in how to get out of this situation. And yet nothing came.
The boy did try to break his fall, a tactic that would have worked were his mind working normally, not under the influence of pain and that drunken haze that plagued it. As it were though, the boy's hand reached out to act as a brace against his landing against the steel ground. And when it hit, both men felt that surge of blissful pain that lanced up his arm, Yavor especially grinning widely from his viewing place. Grinning because he knew that his payday was about to grow exponentially.
As planned, the men had shuffled to draw a bead on the struggling warrior, their weapons turned to stun save for a few, who waited only for orders to fire the lethal bolts over their comrades crippling ones. On all sides he was covered, in a position that no man wanted to find himself in. A kill circle basically; all the men would have to do is fire without care, unleash bolt after bolt in unending succession and even the most trained Jedi would find themselves overwhelmed by the storm that attacked them.
The way Locke was now, hurt and dazed and way away from the top of his form; he stood no chance if they decided to do that. And Yavor really hoped he wouldn't try anything foolish. Market value went down the more damaged the goods were.
Rilos quirked an eyebrow at the boy as he started to mutter to himself under his breath, a cocky smile growing on his face. Oh how it felt to see a Jedi realize they weren't the invincible warriors they thought they were. It brought a tingle to his spine; how the simple things in life were always the most enjoyable. "Ah young jedi...it can happen. It is happening. And from the sound of it, its happened more times then you'd like. But don't worry; this will be the last time that you lose for a long..."
Yavor sensed it at the same time Rilos did. A change in the boy's mental state. Where it was hopeless, disbelieving and for all intents and purposes, defeated a moment ago, something he'd been thinking about had changed it. Thoughts of a...master? Of losing to him earlier. And with their coming came a spark of anger that slowly began to dominate his mind, pushing down those previous thoughts like the tide receding to let uncover the ground beneath. His eyes hardened and slowly rose up to meet Rilos's, a cold fury burning behind them now instead of an empty voidless stare.
Suddenly the boy was on his feet, smacking aside that saber with his own as he suddenly shot to his feet. Yavor made a motion for the men to hold; he wasn't ready to toss out his grand prize so easily. Rilos, caught by surprise, took a couple of steps back so he could take a proper stance in case Locke attacked him with his saber. He did....but he struck at at Rilos's mind first. Two weak, anger powered strikes that Rilos brushed aside with the ease of brushing a leaf off your shoulder. it was almost laughable. Almost. Frowning as Locke launched himself at him, Rilos waited a moment longer then he needed to before countering.
First, he threw up a barrier to deflect the incoming push....and almost stumbled onto his back as the attack shattered it and put him off balance. He'd misjudged how much power Locke had put into it. And surely the boy would try to take advantage of that fact, which had him bringing his saber up to defend against whatever attack Locke would be trying on him.
It wouldn't come. Yavor had finally stepped in, attacking Locke's mind again as he worked to make the nerves in his leg falter. Then, a crimson blade burnt to life in his hand..and with the masterful skill of a Knight or Master level Jedi, Yavor flicked his blade out to lick at Locke's back, then spun the blade to catch his saber and disarm the woman from Locke's grip. An attempt backed by making his entire hand go numb via another mental jab. And provided all went well, one of the collars, the same one now around the neck of the Cathar, would suddenly spring from its holding place on one of his men's belts.
Its target...Locke's neck. And as if to make sure it connected, Yavor signaled to the others to fire; stun bolts only. A four gun volley aimed for the hopefully stumbling and unable to protect himself Jedi. Combined with the collar....Yavor was sure his latest prize was about to become his. And it made the taste of victory that was coming all that much more sweeter.
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Rugs
The ring-dang-doo, now what is that?
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Jun 27, 2011 12:43:34 GMT -5
Post by Rugs on Jun 27, 2011 12:43:34 GMT -5
Attack. He had to attack. Defending would get him killed, or worse.
With all the pent up anger and frustrations of the night, Locke wouldn't have any trouble at all making an offensive.
Without even really realizing he was doing it, he used his anger, his fear, his frustration. All of it. He called on it in desperation, knowing in some corner of his mind that he had to fight for his life here. They gave him strength. He could feel it. A small part of him whispered a warning, whispered that he was flirting with things best left alone, but he couldn't hear it.
There was something about being a mix of half-drunk and scared for his life that made it remarkably easy to ignore the warning voices of his training.
He attacked with his mind. Try to surprise the man, or break into his mind. Again, his efforts slammed into what felt like the walls of a fortress. His head rang from the impact, and from the totality of his strikes' failures. Locke just drew deeper on the Force; there wasn't time to get thrown off like this.
Power surged in him, filling him to the brink of what he could hold; filling him nearly to the point of pain. It was with that strength that he launched his blast of the Force. The man threw up a barrier, but Locke's push shattered it. He felt a momentary surge of confidence, a welling of hope deep in his stomach. Maybe he could do this. Maybe if he just pressed the attack, he could beat this man enough to get away with the girl.
Now's my chance!
He stepped forward, raising his blade to strike at the stunned man. Before he could truly do anything, though, the Force screamed a warning through the fog of anger and pain and alcohol. His head whipped around to see another man coming to attack him with a sanguine blade held in hand. Locke swore and spun around, licking out with his blade. The strike was turned aside hard, and the next thing he felt was the feeling of a saber burning down his back.
He screamed.
There wasn't any way to stop what happened next. As Locke tried to stagger away from the man, his eyes misting with tears from the pain, he felt it. There was the pressure of a lightsaber blade pressing against his own and then there was a twist. And then, nothing. No smooth metal pressed against the palm of his hand. No comforting orange to keep him safe. Nothing but the soft clink, clink, clink of is weapon clattering along the ground.
Locke managed to turn back and look over his shoulder with wide-eyed terror at the man.
"No..."
Then the volley came. The bolts hit him over and over, wracking his body with pain. Forcing him to fall to his knees, yelling and convulsing as his body recoiled away from each shot.
And then...
Click!
Metal, cold and smooth closed around his neck. Locke's mind reeled as a door suddenly closed and the comforting warmth of the Force vanished. "Wha..?" he gasped, voice filled with horror.
He tried to reach out to the Force.
Nothing.
"No." He tried again, straining as tears started to flow down his cheeks. Nothing. "No, no, no, no, no!" No matter how many times he tried, no matter how hard he stretched, he couldn't touch the force. It was there; it was almost as if he could feel it, off in the distance, but he could not touch it. It was like trying to reach through the bars of a cell to grab a key to freedom that was sitting just out of reach.
"NO!" He yelled again, barely keeping down the desire to just lay down on the ground and sob. He yanked at the collar, tried to pull it off his neck, but it wouldn't budge.
He was trapped. As surely as the Cathar.
What's going to happen to me? Locke thought in terror as he turned on his knees to face his captor. I... I can't be a slave. I'm a Jedi.
"No..." It hurt, but he forced himself up to his feet, ignoring the pain his body from the shooting, and the violent burning on his back from that blade. His eyes grew wild, desperate, as he looked at the man that'd chained him. "I won't be your slave! You hear me?! I'm a Jedi!"
And then, with the kind of stupid desperation that comes out in a cornered animal, he tried to tackle Yavor. He didn't care what he'd do to him. He'd beat him with his fists, his legs, anything to get free again.
Anything. He couldn't let them take him.
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Jazen
Beelzaboot
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Jul 2, 2011 22:15:27 GMT -5
Post by Jazen on Jul 2, 2011 22:15:27 GMT -5
A dark glitter of glee twinkled in Yavor's eye as his saber flashed out again and again. First when his blade knocked the Jedi's weapon aside with ease. Then it hissed again and that twinkle grew larger when the young boy howled out in pain and anger, Yavor's saber burning a clear line through cloth and skin as the boy stumbled away. Not enough to severely injure the boy, that wouldn't do at all. But enough to make his body hurt, to make him weak for a moment.
Long enough for that twinkle to see success as he lashed out again and sent that lovely orange saber twirling into the sky before it clattered to the ground several feet away. Faster then the young man could react, one of the men grabbed the rolling weapon and tossed it to Rilos, who was busy shaking off the fact that Locke had come close. Much too close.
Both men watched quietly as their men showered Locke with the painful stun bolts and the even more painful lethal ones, those skimming his arms and legs to create small but effective burns to the body. They'd heal of course, in time...but for now, they'd make it twice as hard to mount any form of counter attack. Not without sending massive amounts of pain through the boy's body. But also not enough of them to make it impossible for the young boy to walk on his own. Yavor wasn't -that- cruel.
Or, he wouldn't be, so long as the boy cooperated once all was said and done. After all, the more they accepted their fate, the less he had to teach them about it the hard way and the less that came out of the money he made for damages when he sold them. Plus, sometimes he simply lost himself in the joy of listening to his slaves or got angry at them enough to not know when to stop. And dead slaves didn't make any money or profit; did wonders to please the wicked side of him though.
Stalking around the boy as the collar stuck to home, he smiled a wicked grin and turned to his men, lifting his arms to either side as if he had just put on the greatest show on the planet and was waiting to receive his applause. He didn't get it of course, not from any of the normal people watching with disgust or fear. But his men were all grinning like idiots, some of them giving hoots of applause. They knew, as much as he did, what had just happened...and that the victory was theirs.
"My friends, today we were not only blessed with one but TWO lovely little packages to deliver to our clients. I don't think I have to tell you what that means?"
Another cheer from the men came up as Rilos came up to Yavor's side, the slight shame of possible defeat slipping away in the cheers of victory echoing from the others. Yavor, his expression light but nevertheless filled with a silent joy, smiled at them as they cheered. "That's right....tomorrow, we'll all eat like kings. Just as soon as we...."
He heard the warning long before Locke was even close enough to do anything worth him caring. He didn't really need it though.....with the way the foolish boy screamed out his frustration at his situation, Yavor could easily have guessed what was coming. With a slight sigh of disappointment, Yavor turned to watch as the lad rushed towards him suddenly, the desire to do whatever he had to do to defeat the man who had captured him reflecting in those eyes of his. In another time and place, where the Sith existed and desired people who gave into their anger and pain, Yavor might have seen something in the boy that would have merited trying to tempt him to the darkside.
But the Sith were no more, nothing but bloated morons with money and no power out in the Fringes. And so the man's frantic charge was pointless....because of what Yavor and Rilos had to do because of it. Without having to tell him, Yavor tilted his head to look at Rilos for a moment, then smiled towards Locke, stretching his arms out for him. Inviting him.....right into the elbow that suddenly swung out of Locke's blind side as Rilos brought his into the picture. Considering Locke's method of attack, his new lack of the Force and the fact that he was likely blinded from all other things but his rage, the elbow would most certainly find its mark.
And if it didn't, well.....Yavor would quite simply put the boot to him. Literally. Either way, once he was sure Locke was down, he'd signal to his men, who'd move over quickly and put Locke under the glare of two still hissing blaster barrels. Tempting him to move again....and then Yavor had an idea. Tilting his head, he signaled to another of his men...and this one put his weapon to little Elisa's head, prompting a gasp from the Cathar. And fear to seep back into her eyes.
"Very commendable, my young Jedi. However, you are no longer in a position to do much of anything but accept your fate. Now, I could threaten your life if disobedience occurs again but.....I'm not sure if that would work. Jedi are trained to put the life of others against their own right.....so instead I'll say this. Try a stunt like that again or try to free yourself or little Elisa over there.....and the next thing you'll see if her smoking corpse at your feet. Do you understand that....Jedi?"
Even Rilos had to admit....that was truly cruel. Put someone else's life in the Jedi's hands; take advantage of their commitment to life in order to get him to do what they wanted. Genius.
Yavor would wait for that to sink in before gesturing to his men and to his two new captives. "Now, we have an appointment to make. So if you'd move along please...before we have to remind you who will suffer for your mistake." Nodding again, his group formed up around him and their new "friends", pushing Elisa and Locke together and keeping blasters trained on them. Rilos also moved into the group, taking a position behind them and tapping his saber hilt against Locke's spine.
"In case you get any funny ideas, Jedi".
And with that, the group would start walking.
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Somewhere in the skies above the district, Tylan would lurch suddenly, twisting his head as if something had suddenly just smacked alongside his head. For a moment, he sat there, blinking as his mind tried to make sense of what had just happened. And then it came to him in a sudden surge of understanding....and worry. Lifting his eyes to the driver, he tilted a finger to the side sharply.
"We need to go faster. I just had a very bad feeling....and time is no longer on my side."
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Rugs
The ring-dang-doo, now what is that?
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Sept 6, 2011 14:56:10 GMT -5
Post by Rugs on Sept 6, 2011 14:56:10 GMT -5
Anything. Anything at all. A punch, a kick, the barest scraping of his fingernails across unprotected flesh. Anything. Locke just needed to hurt the man, needed to buy a moment might buy him freedom. Somewhere, deep in the quiet corner of his mind that still held to reason, he knew he was doing nothing but grabbing at a false hope. But he didn't care. The urge of survival was a powerful motivator, and everything he'd spent his entire life working for would be gone if he couldn't find a way to escape. So he charged this man, desperate to inflict upon him some of the pain he'd been put through. But it was for nothin. He ran one moment in a blind furor, and in the next, his vision was spinning and his ears were ringing. He had the distinct feeling that something had plowed into his face, and felt something warm tricking out of his nose, but he wasn't sure what. The momentum from his run kept him moving forward, stunned and staggering, until something caught him. It wasn't a wall. Nor was it the arms of bastard he'd been rushing down. It was a boot, pressing hard into his stomach. Before Locke could comprehend what was happening, he was pushed from his feet and thrown back through the air by a kick. It wasn't a sharp kick, to break bones and down him like that; rather, it was a strong, solid kick that pressed at him with the whole weight of the man, anchored firmly to the ground, behind it. The result was that he went crashing to the ground in a dazed tangle of limbs and came to stop with little more than a pained, weary groan. His face was starting to bruise where he'd been hit, and he was nearly starting to dry heave after being hit so hard in the stomach. As he opened his eyes, the street wobbled this and that, as if it couldn't decide what orientation it wanted to take. Every beat of his heart sent a throbbing pain shooting through his head. Worst of all, he still couldn't find solace in the warmth of the Force. "Very commendable, my young Jedi."He was dimly aware of the sound of movement around him. Boots on the ground, weapons clicking softly as they were pointed at his back. One of the slavers muttered something to the other and two hands grabbed him by the shoulders. He was hoisted up to his feet and turned around to see the speaking man. His eyes widened at what he saw. "Please... Please no." His throat was dry, his voice unsteady and wavering with worry. "Not her. Take me instead." He lifted a hand, hating to see how much it trembled, and extended it weakly toward the Cather. "Please, just let her go..." But what could the answer be, besides no? Locke knew the moment the plea left his lips that it would be denied, and that his fate--like the girl's--was now in the hands of someone who held no love for him. Instead of being heard out, he was pushed along with the girl and herded like an animal off to parts unknown. His lightsaber was gone, carried by one of his captors. And the Force might as well have been a myth as long as that piece of cool, evil metal remained latched around his neck. So he walked on, listless and hopeless, and with a lightsaber pressed to his back. It was over. Everything. No more nights spent in the Temple with friends. No Tiino. No Tylan. No trials. Nothing. And all because he'd thrown a childish tantrum. Ty... He dared a look back from the way he'd come, back to where he knew the Temple sat. You were right, Ty....
I'm so sorry.
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Jazen
Beelzaboot
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Sept 15, 2011 10:14:05 GMT -5
Post by Jazen on Sept 15, 2011 10:14:05 GMT -5
The young Jedi’s pleas fell on deaf ears. All save for Yavor’s, who twisted his head to look from the young Jedi to their other captive, who was caught between tears and a glum understanding that her best hope of freedom had been captured as well. He smiled silently to himself as he looked back to the Jedi again as their group started to move, stroking his chin thoughtfully. It appears the Jedi are as self-sacrificing as I’ve heard they are made out to be. Too bad in this world, two is better then one when making a deal.
Motioning with his arm to the others, Yavor stepped into the lead as his party began the trek back to their waiting ship, Rilos falling into quick step at his side. The rest of his party closed up, two guards behind their leaders, three each for their captives in a loose triangle, one in the lead, two to either side, with the remaining four or so coming up the rear. They had another eight to ten men waiting for them back at the ship, the whole crew for their small little slaver ship.
But that was only the tip of the iceberg of their operation. But no one would ever figure that out, Yavor knew. They were simply just too good for that. And their two latest captives just proved that. Smiling again inside, Yavor suddenly jerked his head to the side as they walked….feeling the world around him. Somewhere out there, he’d felt…something. Someone calling out….but for who? He didn’t know exactly, but his years of training and experience and instinct told him only one thing; time to go now. Lifting a hand and with a simple gesture backed by his voice, he made a command to pick up the pace; there were slaves to be selling and it was high time they were sold.
He had been too late.
The thought swirled among the many in Tylan’s mind as the older Jedi sweep his eyes back and forth over the area the cab driver had left him at. Normally, Tylan would have needed to pinpoint exactly which of the many establishments to start his search for something, usually based off of intel he had gained through questioning or probing. But not this time. For he already knew which of the seedy bars to start looking…..and his quest already showed that he was on the right track.
As clever as Locke thought he was, Tylan was better. Tylan already knew about Locke’s forays into the city and on more then one occasion, followed him silently and in shadow to make sure the boy stayed out of trouble. The bar he stood outside of now was one of the more common stops for Locke, and therefore a good place to start his search. It did not fail him. Almost as soon as he arrived, he could feel it in the air. The lingering feeling of his young ward, even though he was long gone from this place. Locke’s feeling in the Force…stretching out with it as far as his senses would allow him to go, Tylan dug for that link, that connection that two Jedi could make across distances in order to retain contact. Pushing past thousands upon thousands of other essences, of people in the living Force was not easy, but he had spent much time with Locke and therefore had a more direct presence to search for. And…yes, there he was. A small signature, direction quite tricky to pinpoint but a general idea of where to start looking. Calmly, carefully, he reached out for Locke to touch his mind and speak to him.
Only to find that he could make no connection at all. Tylan’s eyes widened in surprise for the briefest of moments before his mind settled and he went to work digging through the possibilities that could cause such an unnatural event. There were several, but unless he found evidence, there was no way to determine which of the many was the cause. Well, he would just have to get that information then, wouldn’t he? Letting the Force become his guide once again, Tylan focused this time on the people and the area around him. It quickly yielded the answers he sought.
First and foremost, Tylan moved to a young couple who were still gossiping away. A small smile lit his features; even with a planet as big and as populated as Coruscant, the sight of a Jedi always seemed to be the flavor of the day. And as he approached, the young couple made the mistake of glancing at him, then whispering back to each other. Whispers that may have gone unnoticed by anyone else…but not by him.
”Hello there. I appear to have lost a friend today and was wondering if you’ve seen him?” A quick description was rattled off to the pair, who looked to one another as if in thought, pondering what they should say. They didn’t need to; the second he’d mentioned him, the image of Locke had burst into their minds at the very tip where he could pick it up. Smiling, he waited for them to tell him no….when to his much welcome surprise, he was wrong.
“Yea….we saw him. Hey, I’m sorry to say this but a bunch of guys grabbed him and carted him off. Beat him up pretty bad first too.”
“I feel bad for him; he was just trying to help that Cathar. And now he’s going to end up sharing her fate.”
“Tell me, what fate might this be?” he calmly replied, trying to silence that small inner voice that was starting to hiss with anger at what might have happened here.
“…..Well, those guys looked like pirates or slavers. It looked to me that they were being set up for a one way ticket to the forever employed line. Uh…no offense, but you’re probably better off cutting your losses man. He was a Jedi, but they had a couple of guys that could use those fancy sabers of yours too, plus about a dozen or so well armed guys. He didn’t stand a chance and I don’t think…..”
Tylan lifted a hand to stop him mid speak, smiling and giving a small bow of his head. “Thank you for your concern, but don’t concern too much. You have provided me much more detail then I would have expected to gain and I thank you for that. Enjoy the rest of the night. Oh…..tell me one more thing. Tell me about what you thought of the party in as much detail as possible.”
Ten minutes later, Tylan was moving with purpose through the city streets. The couple had given him as much detail as they could on the group that had taken Locke, but his main focus was on the pair they spoke in fear of. Two men….armed with lightsabers? Even if they were just wielding the weapons, Locke should have been able to handle them. Which meant one of two things; Locke had been drunk and unfocused…..or had fought like he had earlier and had suffered for it. Maybe both. Either way, he was suffering for it now…but it was one lesson Tylan would not allow him to finish. Because at the end of this lesson was only despair, no chance for correcting your mistake. All he had to do was get to where they were going before they…
He froze mid thought. There was a THIRD reason Locke could have lost….a slim and very rare chance of that reason but it filled his mind with dread anyway. The two could have been trained Jedi or rather, once been Jedi. He didn’t speak it, but the word stung in his mind anyway. Sith
Tylan’s speed kicked up a notch or two as he started at a run down the crowded city streets. He’d done a quick survey about the nearest spaceports they might have been heading too and after a quick mental checklist, had come to the conclusion of which one they were headed to. And though it was faint, Locke’s feeling was still there, moving towards his conclusion. Be strong Locke. I’m coming my young friend….retain your hopes and the hopes of your companions. The day is not lost until the sun rises on the next.
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Rugs
The ring-dang-doo, now what is that?
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Oct 5, 2011 15:38:47 GMT -5
Post by Rugs on Oct 5, 2011 15:38:47 GMT -5
One foot in front of the other. Then the next, and the next, on and on...
What's going to happen to me? Locke sniffled quietly as he shuffled along. He wanted to run, to find some way to fight back to freedom, but what could he do? One of the men had his lightsaber, and any attempt to fight would just end with the leader beating him again. Maybe worse this time. He didn't know what would happen.
But he did know any chance he'd had for escape died the moment he decided to take the group on.
Why couldn't I save her?, he wondered, looking at the Cathar. A tear, wet and warm, slid down his cheek from his eye. What kind of Jedi can't protect people that can't protect themselves?
Locke sighed quietly and kept forcing himself on against the lingering pain from his beating. In his mind's eye, he saw the events of earlier: getting embarrassed by Tylan over and over, his running from the Temple in a fury, and finally, his fateful, foolish attempt to do what seemed like the right thing to do.
The weak kind. Like me.
Now it didn't matter, though. Now he'd be taken away and his dream to serve the Republic as a Jedi Knight was effectively dead. All because he'd done something a Jedi would do.
The group picked up the pace at the leader's command. Locke didn't at first--he still hurt, and the burn on his back was throbbing angrily. A rifle butt to the ribs and a rough shove had him moving soon enough though, feeling nothing but shame as he felt the eyes of Coruscant's people on him as he was herded away like an animal being shipped off to a slaughterhouse.
After a while, he lifted his fingers to his neck. The collar was still there, cold and smooth. As long as it remained on him, he really didn't have any hope.
"Where..." he started, with a voice that trembled from the effort of trying to hide how afraid and hopeless he felt, "where are you taking me?"
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Jazen
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Oct 12, 2011 22:21:03 GMT -5
Post by Jazen on Oct 12, 2011 22:21:03 GMT -5
The procession continued down the streets of Coruscant, unchallenged and without incident. Not a surprise considering the group looked like a bad bunch, were armed and had two beings in their midst that looked absolutely broken. And that was just looking at the ruffians that made up the most of the group; the two men in the lead, while not openly armed as their comrades were, gave off that kind of aura that told people it was best to keep their distance.
Good thing they did; otherwise they'd be a few more bodies for the trashbots to sweep up in the morning. Insects didn't need to be brushed aside after all. They needed to be swatted so other insects learned to stay away.
Yavor, still leading, walked with a skip in his step and a shallow smile lining his features. Everything had gone right today, no, everything had gone more then right. One slave had become two, one beautiful and would fetch a fair price on that alone. The other...well, he wasn't a bad looking man either, that would help with the sale. However, the main selling point for him would be that he was a Jedi; so many possible buyers for such a strong, well trained man. As long as he was kept in line then he would make a wonderful slave. And fetch an even better price. Yes, today had especially well. Nothing could change...
Yavor almost stopped midstep as the Force suddenly pulsed...something. A flutter? Something out of place in the universe. Yavor cast a glance back to his second to see if he had noticed the flutter as well. One look between the two of them told Yavor that he had; then it wasn't him just being paranoid or having his mind trick him. Something, somewhere related to them maybe, was amiss. With a snap of his fingers, Yavor signalled to his men to pick up the pace. Best to get away from this planet and off to their business before whatever caused that flutter stole that chance away from them.
The cracking of a broken voice made Yavor turn his head slightly to search for the source. Not that it took much searching, he already knew who had spoken. The broken Jedi boy. The boy wanted to know where he was going. Yavor's smile widened for the briefest of moments before sliding back to a cold sneer.
"Where we are taking you? Why, we are taking you to a much better place then that old crummy Jedi Temple. I don't know where exactly that is yet, but so long as your good and do as your told, your life should be....decent enough. Now be silent; I wouldn't want to damage my merchandise by having to slap the opinion out of you."
With that said, he turned back to focus on where they were going. Their ship was at the next dock over, just around the corner. Soon they would be loaded up, their prisoners locked away for the journey and everything would be right with the world. Everything would be right. As he and his group walked into the open bay, Yavor felt his spirits lift....and then his face turned a frown. Where were the guards? He had told them to have three people on guard and waiting for them at all times..so where were they? Someone would suffer for this; after all, examples of the wicked kind did wonders to force the next group to avoid the mistakes of the first. Snarling, he pointed to two of the men behind him.
"Hail the ship and find out where the others are. Someone will pay for this lack of duty and when I find out who...." he started to say before the sound of hissing ramp turned his attention to their ship. The ramp lowered slowly, the pistons groaning as the ramp came to rest on the ground with a thud. And standing on the open ramp was a man...a man that snapped a lightsaber to life in his hand and spun it around once before holding it down to his side.
"Welcome home good sirs. Kindly release the woman and my apprentice, drop your weapons and prepare to be arrested for slavery. I'd hate to have to repeat the lesson I showed your fellows twice in one day."
And Tylan said all of this with a smile on his face.
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Rugs
The ring-dang-doo, now what is that?
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Oct 27, 2011 23:03:12 GMT -5
Post by Rugs on Oct 27, 2011 23:03:12 GMT -5
"Where we are taking you? Why, we are taking you to a much better place than that old crummy Jedi Temple. I don't know where exactly that is yet, but so long as your good and do as your told, your life should be....decent enough. Now be silent; I wouldn't want to damage my merchandise by having to slap the opinion out of you."
Locke sighed and kept walking. A slave. Force save me, I'm going to be a slave... The lights along the walkway grew indistinct, and then the rest of what he saw blurred as more tears started to well in his eyes. All I wanted to do was help her.
Why did he have to suffer for that? He'd only done what a Jedi was supposed to do. And what does the Code say about that? Why am I going to lose it all for doing what I had t-
The hard shove to his ribs from the butt of a rifle was the first thing that made him realize he'd stopped. In his despair, his mind had turned inward and he'd lost track of the world around him. But when he wiped his eyes and looked at what was waiting in front of him, he felt his heart drop in his chest.
It was a ship. Waiting to take him away, and end the life he'd come to know and love.
"No," he gasped, backing away. "No no no no no. I-I can't go on that." He fell over his own to feet as his body acted on its own will in a frantic effort to get to safety. But before he could even hit the ground, a pair of strong hands grabbed him by the upper arm and hauled him back up to his feet. "No please! Ple- Agh!"
He yelled as one of the guards keeping him up jabbed his side with a stun baton. In an instant the fight was gone from him, and he sagged wearily in the hold of his captors. He couldn't get away. So this is it...
That was when he heard a lightsaber.
In his sudden panic and failed attempt at escape, Locke hadn't noticed what was around him. He'd missed Yevor's apparent ire at the missing men, and he'd not even seen the familiar face standing at the top of the boarding ramp. The sound of the saber igniting drew his eyes, though.
"T... Ty?" He muttered weakly, not sure that he was seeing what he really thought he was. But Tylan spoke, demanding his release, and a flicker of hope ran through Locke's stomach.
"Ty!" He called with more strength. It got him another jab from the stun baton that had him grunting loudly in pain and dropping to his knees. "Please..."
Please save me.
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Jazen
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Oct 29, 2011 21:51:37 GMT -5
Post by Jazen on Oct 29, 2011 21:51:37 GMT -5
Peering down from his vantage point slightly up the ship’s ramp, Tylan’s eyes took in every detail before him. From his earlier arrival, he had already scouted out the small hangar, a fact that would have been lost on most due to the lack of items within in, which gave it a larger look then it truly was. What little cover he had spotted on his way in had already been moved by his will, making the hangar one big open ground for which the fares of battle would soon begin. It was a fact that might disadvantage him but it disadvantaged the group as well; after all, the Force was his ally and so long as he kept them from surrounding him, his chances of winning were good.
What little cover was left assisted him more then them; if they took cover behind it, a gesture with the Force would solve the problem quicker then his lightsaber would and, with some luck to the assailants, not end their life as easily as his lightsaber would. Even the worst deserve a chance to live, even if it’s to rot in prison for the rest of their lives.
Then his eyes studied the group itself. Even without the Force telling him their current state of emotions, Tylan knew that his appearance had surprised the group to great ends, moreover due to the fact that their escape from this world was where he had appeared from. From their standpoint, their means of fleeing was already barred from them with him there and the possibility of him having damaged the internal structure of the ship to prevent them from fleeing even if they made it past him was surely on their minds. The worst of them would panic at this thought and panicking foes were much easier to deal with them calm and collected ones. It made them prone to mistakes and considering the big mistake they had already made, any more would be suicidal. And that mistake was taking a Jedi and thinking they could slave him out.
As the stunned faces slowly warped into shock, anger, or to his surprise from a few, calm and calculating, Tylan let his gaze drift lightly to the two men in the lead. Again, the Force told him what he needed to know as clarity, but Tylan’s years of experience was already warning him that those two out of them all were the most dangerous. The way they stood, the aura around them, their surprise pinching through their iron facial masks for only a second before fading behind it once again told him that not only were they the leaders but that they had a reason not to be worried by the appearance of a single Jedi Knight. The only question was to what that was, but there were three points that lead him quickly to a conclusion. First, the thought that Locke, as angry and whatever else he’d become after his run from the temple, could be captured by simple slavers was illogical. The Cathar woman beside him likely had a factor in that but even still; it simply did not make sense. The second was the fact that while Locke had become closed off by the Force, the two men were closed off to him mentally, a sign that they had the ability to negate his probing with the Force.
The third was the fact that the smaller one had just snapped a crimson blade to life.
Taking careful steps down the ramp, slow in timing to work the tension already building in the followers, Tylan made his way to the base of the ramp and stood there, saber humming gently in time with the other in the quiet of the hangar. The look on Locke’s face almost made Tylan laugh, for it mirrored the surprise on the faces of the slavers, though he held it back and let a smile crease his face instead. Then he turned his expression sour for a moment as one of the men butted Locke with a stun baton when the boy cried out to him. With a flick of his free hand, the stun baton shot free from the man’s hand, then suddenly shot back into his gut, doubling him over with the shock of the weapon. Tylan’s voice, as calm as ever came through, but the venom behind it was unmistakable.
“Now now there….harm the boy or the woman and I’ll make you regret that action hundred times over. Once again, release them both now and offer yourself freely to the proper authorities and you may yet leave this day behind with your lives intact. I will only ask nicely one more time. “
Silence followed for a moment after that…and then the lead man smiled.
“And this is my reply, Master Jedi.” Snapping his fingers, the men suddenly raised their weapons, two of them pulling Locke and the woman aside and pointing their muzzles at them to keep them from fleeing. The rest opened fire. And thus the dance of death began. And as Tylan’s blade danced to send bolt after bolt away from him or back towards its owner, a small cylinder started rolling along the floor towards Locke…..and Tylan could only pray that no one save the young boy would notice its approach.
(Your welcome to control the group or Yavor or Rilos. Gonna have to now to be fair xd)
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Rugs
The ring-dang-doo, now what is that?
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Feb 16, 2012 21:59:09 GMT -5
Post by Rugs on Feb 16, 2012 21:59:09 GMT -5
{Figure it's past time to get this old gal rollin again and finished}
Locke's vision blurred as he gasped and struggled for breath. His head hurt. His body ached from the shooting and the beating and the lightsaber that'd seared his flesh. And that collar, light as it was, felt a like a weight tied 'round his neck. Like he was about to be thrown into the depths...
So deep was his self-pity that he didn't see the baton ripped free of the hand of the goon behind him. With the Force withheld from him by the collar, he couldn't feel it. But he heard a yell of surprise and a thud as someone fell to the ground. He looked back over his shoulder, seeing the man laying there with a hand clutching his stomach.
“Now now there…."
Locke's focus whipped around to Tylan. He wanted to hope. Tylan would show them. He was young, inexperienced. Weak. But Tylan... Tylan was capable, strong. If anyone could free him, Tylan would.
Tylan made his demands, ordering that Locke and the Cathar woman be released peacefully. But that wasn't going to happen. Locke knew that, and Tylan had to have known they wouldn't let their Jedi prey go so easily. But Tylan was a Jedi, and long shot or no, he gave them a chance.
Please be careful, Locke pleaded silently. His eyes darted between Yavor and Rilos. He knew he was still young, but they'd handled him quite easily. Tylan could do the same, as their spar earlier in the night still proved, but they were two where he was only one...
I don't know what I'll do if you fall here too.
Suddenly, he was grabbed by something and forced to lurch to his feet. Before his mind caught up with the action, the air was full of blaster fire and the whir of a lightsaber, and he suddenly had several gun barrels pointing directly at him.
Not good.
He heard the sound of something rolling on the ground toward him and glanced to the side. His breath caught in his throat and his eyes widened. It was his lightsaber. If I can just get it... But that would be hard now, with the slavers' men guarding him so doggedly. Maybe no one would notice...
For now, Locke would have to be patient. That's what Tiino and Tylan always worked so hard to get him to remember--that patience was just as key in combat as is it was out of it. Locke just prayed patience didn't get his lightsaber stolen from him...
"We can do better than this," he heard a voice mutter. He looked to his side and saw the two Dark Jedi muttering to each other. Yavor, the one who'd brought Locke down, looked to Rilos and nodded. "You know what to do."
Rilos made a hand signal and called something to the men in some language Locke didn't recognize. Their fire stopped abruptly, but as soon as it Tylan might've recovered from defending himself, there was Yavor, coming down from a jump with his blade streaking at Tylan's face.
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Jazen
Beelzaboot
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Mar 4, 2012 20:25:54 GMT -5
Post by Jazen on Mar 4, 2012 20:25:54 GMT -5
Tylan's blade was a glowing blur of light. Blaster bolts came at him from all angles and yet, wherever a bolt appeared, Tylan's blade was there to deflect it. Every step Tylan took put him in position to deflect a series of bolts aside with ease while never exposing any part of him to an open counter attack. Experience and years of facing situations not unlike this one showed their worth now and Tylan was their avarice.
His deflections were not idle either; the bolts Tylan reflected always had a purpose. Whether they hit near one of the men to force them to take cover, injured them to make them unable to fight or outright dropped them to the ground with a sure finality, each bolt served to make Tylan's position easier and his foes weaker.
All the while, his attention never wavered from the two men who obviously led this group, nor did his focus slip from the men holding Locke hostage either. Three men, standing next to their leaders, all with their weapons aimed straight at Locke's head. If this was an attempt to make him stand down, it was a poor one. He felt for Locke, was sad to see him in this position, but he knew he could not bow to them if they tried such a trick. Luckily, it seemed that their position was merely to keep Locke from trying anything foolish; a step towards him in the advantage's category.
Locke being guarded like that did present a problem however. As closely guarded as he was, without the Force to aid him, there was little chance the younger man could make a grab for his weapon without being seen. Or rather, blasted or subdued for such an attempt. And with both leaders there, any attempt he managed to pull off with likely fail just as quickly. Tylan's options were few and worse then that, few and risky. All the while, Locke's life was held in the balance. Amidst the shower of bolts he was deflecting, Tylan winced inwardly.
Then the shower abruptly stopped. Not gradually, but all at once, as if someone had simply turned off the tap. In essence, that was what had happened. Still, no sooner had the sound of the bolts faded did another sound present itself, an all too familiar sound at that. Tylan's eyes snapped to the sky, a shadow in the night descending upon him, lit by the countless lights of Coruscant's streets...and the hissing red of a lightsaber blade.
Already Tylan's feet were in motion, adjusting his stance by several steps back and bringing his saber to guide the man's blade to the side, then quickly sliding his feet so that he stood across from his new foe. "Well now...isn't that interesting? When all this is over and if you live, we shall have to discuss your origins in great detail. I'm sure the Jedi Council would enjoy that." Lowering his saber down to his left, Tylan spread his legs and then held it out horizontally to his side...and smirked.
All the while, Locke's saber was edging closer, hidden from sight now in one of the rare shadows that covered the streets. A plan had edged its way into Tylan's mind when the man had attacked him and it was time to put it into play. With a twitch forward, a feint of possible action, Tylan's eyes suddenly snapped to Locke as Locke's own blade blazed to life and flung itself into the attackers around him. As predicted, the men turned to the sound of a lightsaber hissing to life just in time to lose one to its spinning blade.
Tylan was aware of his foe rushing him now but he had done his part, the saber turning off and guided by the unseen hand of the Force to Locke's hand. From here my friend, it's up to you on your end. Do me proud and act fast; we have little time. Then his attention turned to the man descending on him with red blade in hand and the fight began anew.
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