|
lion
The Wintergreen
220 posts
38 likes
|
|
last online Jan 18, 2017 19:38:34 GMT -5
Padawan
|
|
|
Oct 4, 2015 22:15:14 GMT -5
Post by lion on Oct 4, 2015 22:15:14 GMT -5
A month.
A single month had passed since foot had touched the sands of Korriban; the barren and dusty wastes, a desolate and bleak view only the pessimistic and nihilistic would view as beautiful, his home. A month since leaving the Ashen, the aging Thunderclap-class vessel nestled in its paid-for hangar bay under the watch of the Dreshdae spaceport authority, in favor of maintaining a low-profile; spaceports were highly monitored, after all.
Murder, regardless of Korriban's status and rumors of dark machinations, was rarely tolerated in public; with the promise of prey even more risky than the Jedi, being arrested would be tantamount to grievous shame.
Sarkh could only find himself modestly amused in reflection, as the dust-tinged hot-air billowed through the cavernous ruin that had become his home-away-from-home, feeling the gust wash against his nigh-bare, scaled form. The cave had been a fortuitous find and within kilometres of his prey, minus the nest of irritable shyrack that had occupied it prior, but quick work with the lightsaber had established a humble-if-secluded base of operations for the young hunter, one that had served him well, and one free of pests. Even running water had been present; a small stream from deeper within the mountain range some distance from the cavern carved its way through the shelter; providing a humble means of hygiene and, more importantly, re-hydration.
And most importantly, shelter from the sun.
Blistering heat during Korriban's day-cycle had proven difficult to work with, Sarkh had noticed early in his prowling, and whilst the reptile was up to tolerating the discomfort, his cold-blooded nature had sought protection. The night time, cooler and darker, provided far better conditions for Sarkh's intentions, and thus, the days were often carefully managed. The sunlight could not penetrate stone, after all, and thus the cavern's shade provided some measure of comfort, though the hot air was still an issue to contend with.
But for the Scorekeeper's chosen hunter, her favoured among the favoured, the conditions were tolerable. The prey was far worth the ardor, far worth the challenge that Korriban provided, putting even the notion of hunting Jedi into a back-seat for the first time. Ever since his first Jedi kill, Sarkh had wondered if perhaps there existed a quarry that could match or surpass the thrill, and on Korriban, it seemed that the question had indeed been answered.
The Sith.
Far more powerful than the Jedi, seemingly more willing to engage the Force and unafraid to shy away from challenge, the Sith had seemed overall like a nest of Acklay; not to be approached single-handed head on. Indeed, Sarkh mused quietly to himself as he began to cup his hands into the stream to wash the heat from his scales, the Sith were not to be directly challenged but approached quietly; one did not target a Bantha bull in a herd, but its weak and sickly when they became isolated.
The first few days had been simple study; finding what shade he could to simply observe the ornate Sith Temple and those around it, watching their habits. It wasn't until later into the stay that the predatory Trandoshan made his move; waiting for isolated pockets of the weaker and younger members of the sect to become viable targets. An acolyte in single practice, a pair of unsuspecting apprentices sparring past exhaustion, these were the prey that Sarkh had sated his hunt-lust with in the early stages.
Easy prey; killed in brief but intense stalk-and-ambush conflicts. Humanoid for the most part, the reptilian hunter's prey were often left where they fell; unworthy of being pelted, leave-alone the effort it took to drag the dead back to the cavern. What was valuable, however, had been the lightsabers and other personal effects left behind by the victims; each body found had been stripped of its weapon. In a short month, the tally of dead had risen to no less, by count of training lightsabers and rudimentary knives, to five; an entire training group, sans the instructor themselves.
It had been close to six, Sarkh knew, his scaled mouth forming a wry little smirk as his fluid-drenched hands splashed water against his chest, letting the cool liquid dribble between the plates. A Knight, far more capable than the five apprentices Sarkh had cut apart, had on the fifth hunt managed to intercept the rogue hunter in the dunes; a similarly brief but rapid engagement. The fight, however, was un-spectacular; rather than a kill, Sarkh had only been able to wound the man, unable to deliver the killing blow; the Sith had proven a difficult adversary and had delayed the hunter long enough for discovery to be a real threat.
A close fight, a good fight, but one that Sarkh couldn't help but find himself somewhat concerned for. Were the Sith aware of him now? At least, more than simply the deaths of their learners? No doubt the knight would have spoken of the bone-adorned, masked reptilian they had fought and lost to; pursuit would be a matter of time, but the prospect brought both a small sense of uncertainty and anticipation. Prey that could fight back, after all, were to be treasured; like the Wookiees and other such hardy prey, it made the chase all the more worthy in Her eyes.
All that was to wait was to see the reaction of the Sith.
|
|
|
|
|
Rugs
The ring-dang-doo, now what is that?
6,347 posts
1,102 likes
Friendly neighborhood CEO
|
|
last online Jan 12, 2024 11:24:20 GMT -5
Administrator
|
|
|
Oct 15, 2015 19:21:43 GMT -5
Post by Rugs on Oct 15, 2015 19:21:43 GMT -5
{Featuring a guest appearance from Novus, courtesy of Neology } “You’re sure of this, Aeris?” Nieraan sat backwards in a hovering chair, arms folded lazily atop its low back. His outward appearance exuded indifference, perhaps even boredom—as it sometimes did—but he was quite intrigued by the Knight’s story. The young Knight’s face reddened, irritated that Nieraan didn’t believe or didn’t care about his story. Or the bruising that, despite his efforts to hide, was still quite obvious. “Yes, Lord Aurelius,” Aeris said. “I would not waste your time if I was not telling the truth. Either of you.” He added the last with a hasty nod to Darth Novus, who sat on the other side of a slender desk from both of them. It was hard to get a read on her—she had a way of keeping her thoughts to herself when she wanted to. “The… beast attacked me when I went out into the Valley,” Aeris said again, running a frustrated a hand through his mop of black hair. “I could have fended him off, but he caught me by surprise. Hurt my arm and forced me to flee.” Nieraan gave Novus a sidelong glance that said he believed Aeris’ claim potential superiority about as much as he believed that Rod had ever seen the top side of a running treadmill. But that was here nor there. “Fair enough,” Nieraan said. His words carried the faintest bit of mocking, and he didn’t care if the Knight heard it. That left the question of what to do. They’d surmised, through Aeris’ story and a bit of critical thinking that the Trandoshan—who apparently wore some strange bone armor—was responsible for the sudden deaths of five students. Aeris claimed he saw the creature skulking back into the Valley; west toward, some long-empty tombs and caves. There was no guarantee the beast would remain there, but it was a start, at least. “Well,” Nieraan said, turning an eye to Novus, “how will we tackle this? Shall I go look into it since dear Aeris here is obviously incapable?” "Yes, go,” she said. “Put Sol'kanar back in his box, or destroy him if you like. That creature is not worth the upkeep if he cannot be controlled." Nieraan smiled, both for Novus’ directions and Aeris’ ire, as he stood. “As you wish…”
Korriban’s sands were still hot, even though the sun was well on its way through its final descent into the night. The rocks held stubbornly to the heat from the day’s pounding rays, apparently only content to pass it when a wayward traveler passed over them. Nieraan didn’t mind this too much; he’d never been particularly bothered by the heat or cold, save extremes, and living on Korriban tended to a build a certain tolerance for the rocky world’s unforgiving heat. Still, he trudged along from his speederbike, after checking to ensure it was locked and awaiting his I.D. code of course, to the caverns that loomed ahead. He’d spent most of the day out in the Valley of the Dark Lords, searching for signs of the wayward lizard he was to deal with. Physical signs of the beast’s passage were rare—the winds had a way of blowing away what scarce imprints a being’s passage might leave behind—but with some careful observation and a thorough review of footage from the Temple’s security cameras pointed him in a general direction. From there, it was just a matter of deduction, trusting his senses in the Force and more than a little luck. But he’d found some presence, lurking in a cave. It was faint at first, but the closer he drew to it, the more he realized it was a wild, untamed potential in the Force that called out to him. Sol’kanar, perhaps. Hopefully; the lizard would be dealt with and Nieraan could get back to on to his own business. The cave’s monstrous maw gaped before him now. A wind blew up from the valley, setting the open front of his jacket to flapping as he looked into the depths. It was dark, but not so dark that he couldn’t see—even without his enhanced vision. More importantly though, he could feel the creature’s presence resonating out from deeper within. Nieraan allowed a smile to touch his lips as he rolled his shoulders and walked in. The clink, clink of his lightsabers tapping against each other echoed out in front of him. “Come on out,” he called, voice echoing into the cavern’s bowels, “I know you’re there.” He wasn’t concerned about being stealth here. After all, he was the hunter.
|
|
|
|
|
lion
The Wintergreen
220 posts
38 likes
|
|
last online Jan 18, 2017 19:38:34 GMT -5
Padawan
|
|
|
Oct 15, 2015 20:30:24 GMT -5
Post by lion on Oct 15, 2015 20:30:24 GMT -5
No sooner did the sudden and familiar sensation coarse through him did the Trandoshan stop dead in his tracks, water trickling from cracks in his cupped palms, letting his physical and mental awareness stretch behind him as if trying to conjure eyes in the back of his head. Something was here; whether the Force or She herself had alerted Sarkh to its presence, something had found the cave and had ventured in.
The hesitation was only momentary as years of experience kicked into action, bringing the reptilian man's hunting instincts to the fore. Yes, it was only a matter of time before the Sith sent a true example of their Order to track him down, and whilst it was difficult to place an exact bead on the shadowy blot in his mind creeper ever closer, it was safe to assume by sheer volume of power alone that they were beyond mere initiate stages. There was a subtle sense of fear that bit into Sarkh somewhat, the knowledge that perhaps this was more than he could handle, a shard of ice forming in the man's spine that threatened to freeze him entirely.
Rather than allow it, however, and rather than simply try to shove it aside, the bare-chested reptile took the third path; fostering his fear and turning it to his advantage. Adrenalin beginning to dribble into his bloodstream, his heartrate gently beginning to rise, the trandoshan's mind began to whir in controlled chaos, running through his imagination just what the Sith would be capable of. This was a hunt, and whilst the Trandoshan was most comfortable as a predator, there was more than enough knowledge in his head in the study of prey to use their defenses to his advantage.
And staying one step ahead of his shadowy pursuant would be, like prey to predator, key to survival, and the first step was preparation of the environment.
Rather than hurriedly try to collect all of his equipment, Sarkh left it behind, abandoning both the small pile of training lightsabers he had collected from slain apprentices as well as his bone tabard and peltist's knife; the thick ivory-and-cloth coat left neatly piled by the stream next to the weapons. His hunter's sword was similarly left behind but hidden with a careful application of dirt layers covered the saw-toothed weapon from sight; a potential fallback to rely on.
The next step was simple; many species of prey employed not only active defenses but camouflage, and for the damp Trandoshan, it didn't take much looking to find it. Grasping at the dusty, dirty floor of the cave, Sarkh wasted no time in flinging several handfuls of it in rapid succession against his chest, his face and down his back; the water-slicked scales catching the particles of dirt and grit, obscuring the darker green of his bare body with the earthen brown of the cave. Some work with the hands to smear the heavier-caked pockets of dirt about and properly cover himself and, for all but direct observation ,the reptilian man was practically indistinguishable from the cavern walls.
Bait, protection, fallback; all I need now is the trap. Sarkh mused, feeling his hand grip the metallic tube of his own lightsaber as he plucked it from his belt, the Trandoshan made good his attempt for ambush. Traditional hiding spots were few and far between in the cavern, especially with the dark presence inching closer, but with his makeshift camouflage Sarkh was able to position himself carefully against a nest of rocks to the west of his bait pile, some ten feet away.
The voice of the Sith echoed in the chamber, the clatter of metal on metal, the taunting voice from the dark shadow stating its knowledge. Forcing himself into a state of 'calm panic', closing his eyes and measuring his breaths, the Trandoshan offered little more than a deep and guttural hiss in return; a primal challenge that no doubt any hunter would expect to hear pursuing prey, a warning of territory trespass. It was far, far from what Sarkh would have wanted to say, but if the shadowy figure expected an animal, let him have one.
Anything to lull the shadow into a sense of security enough to become complacent, as Sarkh crouched down just a little deeper, gripping his lightsaber in his right hand tightly. All the Sith had to do was approach the clothes and pick them up, or the lightsabers; anything to distract his hands and Sarkh would uncoil like an enraged viper and fall upon him.
|
|
|
|
|
Rugs
The ring-dang-doo, now what is that?
6,347 posts
1,102 likes
Friendly neighborhood CEO
|
|
last online Jan 12, 2024 11:24:20 GMT -5
Administrator
|
|
|
Nov 3, 2015 11:00:36 GMT -5
Post by Rugs on Nov 3, 2015 11:00:36 GMT -5
A hiss echoed out from the cave’s depths, rasping against Nieraan ears. So Sol’Kanar wanted to play hide and seek, did he? “Suit yourself,” Nieraan muttered as he gently reached to touch the Force. A smile exposed his fangs as he strode along, confident as ever. “Don’t say I didn’t give you a chance.”
The steadily-fading light proved little trouble for the Firrerreo as his infrared vision filled in the pieces where visible light began to fail. More than that, the world took on a blueish hue as he reached out to see with the Force, trusting his senses rather than his rather capable physical talents alone.
The beast was still dangerous, if primal, and Nieraan would not let stupid pride get in the way of what should be an otherwise easy task.
All the world around him sang with Korriban’s twisted power as he descended deeper. A beetle scattered around a stalactite on the ceiling above, as visible as a pinprick of light as it was noticeable as a gentle hum of life through the Force. A snake curled in a crack in the rocks as he passed by.
The cave eventually widened to a chamber of sorts. Here, Nieraan stopped, observing the surroundings. A pile of belongings lay on the ground, haphazardly strewn about. A being’s presence was strong on them, but even that didn’t hold his attention for more than a passing moment.
The beast hid himself near some rocks a few paces away. Nieraan smiled silently, drawing more wholly on the Force as he gave a sidelong look at the prey who fancied himself a hunter.
Clever trick, he thought. The dirt and mud caked around Sol’kanar would go a long way toward hiding him from the naked eye, especially in the dim light.
But in the Force, his life shined like a furnace to Nieraan’s senses.
“Nice try, Sol’kanar,” he said, voice wry as he raised a hand. “But you’ll need more than a beast’s tricks to avoid me.”
Nieraan gave a lazy wave of his hand to tear a rock from the far wall. It hurtled toward the lizard.
|
|
|
|
|
lion
The Wintergreen
220 posts
38 likes
|
|
last online Jan 18, 2017 19:38:34 GMT -5
Padawan
|
|
|
Nov 5, 2015 0:39:04 GMT -5
Post by lion on Nov 5, 2015 0:39:04 GMT -5
The trap sprung.
It had been the subtle shifting in the air as his target crept into view, the surge of excitement carving its way through the Trandoshan's nerves like a heated blade through butter, bringing on the flow of adrenaline as his body prepared for the rigors and stresses of battle. The reptile's pupils dilated under the heady rush; taking in more and more of the negligible light among the cavern and, in turn, detailing more of it; defining more of it in a vivid display. Blood surged through his veins as Sarkh's heartrate rose, flooding the scaled muscles with a richly-oxygenated meal they so keenly absorbed.
Likewise did the Trandoshan's connection to the Force begin to broaden; tapping into the deep reserves that had otherwise been left untouched and unrefined. The first sparks before the scrub-fire flickered into being within the reptilian's form, pressing against the figure of shadow lingering before his mind's eye, challenging its very presence.
The furnace, as it were, had lit, and belching a bright blaze even it had little comprehension for, the reptile sprung into motion. Like a viper, Sarkh uncoiled and struck out with a speed that seemed almost eerie for his size. Dust kicked up from the cavern floor and the Trandoshan's body in kind as scaled muscle clenched and compressed; a large portion of the cavern wall to the naked eye seemingly coming to life within the space of a heartbeat.
But the dark figure was not without its response, for no sooner had Sarkh sprung into action did he too follow suit, flinging from the opposing cavern wall a large chunk of the dusty rock with seemingly little more than even the most nonchalant of gestures. Already on the move as he was, however, the Trandoshan hunter had little time to alter course, instead following suit in drawing upon the Force, not with the grace of a skilled hand but with the sheer force of a bull rancor enraged.
There was no reverence, no respect, for the empowering entity binding all of reality together; it was merely a tool to be used, as the energy flowed through the Trandoshan's body. Mid-stride, Sarkh sank low; bringing his center of balance down toward the floor with sheer super-human speed, sliding along the cavern floor beneath the hurtling mass of stone that had moments prior threatened to fracture his skull.
But the near seven-foot reptile didn't stop; bending his knees and planting his feet against the ground. Powerful quadriceps flexed, compressing and uncoiling the powerful tendons in the Trandoshan's legs that sent him from a slide into an outright leap, taking to the air with a cry of effort. Fangs bared, Sarkh swung for his target, claws splayed as his scaled right hand rushed through the air, seeking to literally tear the skin from the intruder's face.
|
|
|
|
|
Rugs
The ring-dang-doo, now what is that?
6,347 posts
1,102 likes
Friendly neighborhood CEO
|
|
last online Jan 12, 2024 11:24:20 GMT -5
Administrator
|
|
|
Nov 8, 2015 11:35:49 GMT -5
Post by Rugs on Nov 8, 2015 11:35:49 GMT -5
[Pardon the rust. Been a while since I wrote a combat post xP] Time slowed.
Or it seemed to, rather, as Nieraan’s senses kicked into overdrive. Precognition, his by blood right through his connection to the Force and finely honed under Kamirille’s brutal tutelage opened his mind to the Force’s whispers as an apparent struggle began in earnest.
No sooner than he’d hurled the rock at the lunging lizard did those whispers, those Force-heightened reflexes urged Neiraan’s muscles to coil and press into a sidestep. The beast ducked low beneath the impromptu projectile. It was a surprisingly savvy move to pull on the fly — one Nieraan might give a nod of respect to, were he not burdened with avoiding the angry monstrosity bearing down on him like a mag train gone of the tracks.
Already, the Force surged in him again as he brought his left hand around. The beast’s claws lashed out, swiping hungrily at his head.
Nieraan pulled his head back as he moved. The extra effort ensured that his face remained quite firmly attached to the muscle and bone beneath it, but there simply hadn’t been time enough to avoid the strike altogether.
Twin lines of fire lit as the claws grazed his cheek. They were remarkably sharp; even the glancing blow was enough to easily split his skin and, fittingly, incredibly unpleasant.
Nieraan scowled as he pivoted. He pushed his left hand forward, from the charging beast’s backside. The Force exploded out of him with every intent of sending the beast hurtling into the unforgiving rock as he gave a roar of effort.
The rock he threw only a few heartbeats earlier shattered against the cave’s far wall.
The enraged Firrerreo didn’t stop there, though. No, nearly as soon as the blast of the Force left him, he closed his fist. He meant to pin the beast as the Force closed down around him, as an angry kraken might use its tentacles to trap an intruder to its domain.
“You will submit, beast,” he said, voice tight with anger as he felt the warmth trickle from the two cuts on his cheek. They were superficial wounds; they’d likely close within the hour from his accelerated healing. But the principle of the wounds fueled his ire more than the cuts themselves.
His silver skin darkened. His presence, hot and furious, flared. “Or I will kill you.”
|
|
|
|
|
lion
The Wintergreen
220 posts
38 likes
|
|
last online Jan 18, 2017 19:38:34 GMT -5
Padawan
|
|
|
Nov 8, 2015 17:54:57 GMT -5
Post by lion on Nov 8, 2015 17:54:57 GMT -5
If Sarkh counted himself as fast, the Sith before him was akin to quicksilver; moving with a fluid-like grace as if unfettered by gravity itself. The burst of speed that the Trandoshan had applied would have, by any measure of the imagination, been nigh-impossible for a baseline human to comprehend, letalone defend against, but here? Here, it was if the robed figure could read not only his mind but his body, adjusting to the Trandoshan's swipe as it were thrown in slow motion.
Even with the scant connection, the lightest touch of claw to flesh that cut into the side of the Firrerreo's face, Sarkh knew it was by sheer luck on his side that the blow had connected. Underestimation, perhaps, on the part of the Sith, but not enough to ensure that the mammalian's face wasn't ripped apart.
Recovery from the over-ambitious swipe was indicative of the Trandoshan's training; even with an all out haymaker-esque swing, the reptilian's balance almost immediately returned with just the slightest motion of the feet. Pent up momentum bled off, and under perhaps any other circumstance, the Trandoshan would have cleanly deposited himself into a better attack position to press his advantage against the robed sith.
Instead, however, it were as if a giant child simply picked him up and tossed him. An unseen force, raw and blunt in its power, grasped the reptile from behind and threw him seemingly as hard as it could toward the cavern wall. So fast did Sarkh move that he barely had time to exclaim panic; the instinctive move to raise his arms up and turn his head just barely stopping him from face-first mashing the stone surface.
The impact, nevertheless, drove the air clean from the lizard-man's lungs as his bare, dusty scales hit the wall with a crunch. Pain blossomed from several points along the front of him, but the Trandoshan was quick to crush the nervous signal down from his mind, pressing it away from his focus in an attempt to power through. The invisible hand didn't relent, however, squeezing hard against the muscle and bone, bringing forth a deep, guttural hiss in discomfort from the younger Sarkh.
Under the unseen force, the Trandoshan's body fought in kind; scales shifting as the flesh and muscle beneath clenched and flexed in effort. Testing his bonds, Sarkh tried to push from the wall but found himself failing; raw strength alone wasn't enough to release him, no matter how bigger or how stronger he was over the Firrerreo subduing him.
But two decades worth of the finest martial education in the known galaxy didn't simply rely on being strong, after all, as Sarkh's mind turned to the environment around him. It wasn't the first time the young hunter had found himself engaging prey far more powerful than himself, nor was it the first time finding himself in a compromising position at the hands of his quarry. Rather than panic or surrender, as some may have, the Trandoshan simply expanded his field of view; carefully and methodically calculating his next step.
The answer wasn't far coming, as with a steadying breath, Sarkh summoned the Force about himself. It was a careful effort, one that brought the reptile's eyes to a momentary close in concentration, but one that under the stress of combat was surprisingly successful for the untrained hunter to attempt. Rather than attempt to strengthen himself, or to resist the bonds that held him, Sarkh instead reached outward to the floor beside the Firrerreo Sith, grasping a rough handful of the loose dust, rocks and dirt scattered about the ground.
And with one sudden heave, flung it squarely for the Sith's bloodied face like a gas cloud, aiming for not only the sensitive eyes of the Firrerreo, but more importantly, the blood-oozing open cuts.
|
|
|
|
|
Rugs
The ring-dang-doo, now what is that?
6,347 posts
1,102 likes
Friendly neighborhood CEO
|
|
last online Jan 12, 2024 11:24:20 GMT -5
Administrator
|
|
|
Dec 14, 2015 17:13:39 GMT -5
Post by Rugs on Dec 14, 2015 17:13:39 GMT -5
[Late I know! But here's a quick something for you x3]
Nieraan allowed himself a small moment of grim satisfaction as the beast’s heavy frame collided with the cavern wall. The impact brought force enough to loosen an until-now undisturbed brushing of dust from a handful of the clawed stalactites overhead.
It was oh so gratifying to hear the lizard hiss and groan from the pain of the blow, and even more so to feel him struggle and fail against the invisible wall that pressed him firmly against the cavern wall. The beast was a powerful creature, no doubt; where the contest a matter a pure physical strength alone, even Nieraan, strong as he was, couldn’t hope to contain him.
Physical strength meant little to the Force, though. The beast might as well have been an ant underfoot before the potency with which Nieraan could wield his power.
I should just crush you, the Firrerreo mulled as he wiped the drops of blood from his cheek with a thumb. Not a damn person in the Order would miss you.
Yet, something stayed his will — kept him from pressing the Trandoshan’s body until it cracked or choking the life from him from a distance. Curiosity perhaps, or maybe the unshakeable feeling in the back of his mind that something was off about this whole encounter. But what?
The Force whispered a warning to him. His foe, it seemed, lacked the wit to realize Nieraan was sparing him a prolonged and [/i]surelypainful death and reached out to the dirt by Nieraan’s feet. A puff of dust and rock suddenly erupted upward. Nieraan shut closed his nictitating membranes against the attack, shielding his eyes without sacrificing vision. Even so he, reflexively moved a hand to stay some of the particles.
Most passed harmlessly by, but a few bits of dust found the fresh cuts. A hot burst of stinging pain erupted from the irritants, and Nieraan’s grip loosened on the Trandoshan.
“Fine,” he growled, releasing his hold on the beast altogether as sparks began crackling between his fingers. The air smelled faintly of ozone. With a roar of anger and effort, he threw his hand forward and sent a current of crackling lightning hurtling towards the beast…
|
|
|
|
|
lion
The Wintergreen
220 posts
38 likes
|
|
last online Jan 18, 2017 19:38:34 GMT -5
Padawan
|
|
|
Dec 18, 2015 23:42:48 GMT -5
Post by lion on Dec 18, 2015 23:42:48 GMT -5
Sarkh was far from slow.
No sooner had the Firerreo Sith's 'grip' upon him loosen did the Trandoshan advance; taking the opportunity to rip from his adversary's hands without a single moment passed in hesitation. The intent was clear; every micro-movement of muscle matter beneath the green scales lining Sarkh's frame falling in line to guide the Trandoshan into battle, to grab and decimate the smaller, older man before him.
Lunging, claws reached for flesh, and with fangs bared did Sarkh begin to descend upon Nieraan like nexu upon its prey, but no sooner did the Trandoshan find himself in range did the reptilian youth find himself struck stunned. Blinding agony, wracking pain the likes of which he had never felt, surged through the Trandoshan's nerves like fire upon fuel. Sparks of lightning, conjured from the Firerreo's hands as if conduits of raw power themselves, arced across Sarkh's powerful frame as the current sought the path of least resistance through him, and with great force, drove the young jedi-hunter to the floor.
The Trandoshan didn't scream. Muscles clenched and clamped in sheer, blinding white-hot pain, but he didn't scream. Savage hissing instead took the place of wailing cries and pleas for mercy as Sarkh's body hit the ground, letting the current dissipate into the floor of the cave. The smell of burning flesh permeated the air, much like the stink of charged ozone, and as the Trandoshan panted for breath, Sarkh could have sworn he could taste the pain surging through him.
Everything hurt. His heart felt as if it were squeezed, his lungs desperate for air, and whilst the initial instinct had been to try to rise to his feet and resume battle, not a single part of him seemed willing to follow his mind's orders. With great effort did Sarkh slowly begin to sit up, eyes screwed closed and teeth grit in sheer effort; wheezing and coughing as the hunter got his legs beneath him, only to buckle as he tried to stand upright.
Those mighty legs felt numb; strength resided within them still, but it was hard to fully bring to bear.
"What manner of c-uhh..conjurer's magic was that?" Barked the injured reptile, hissing and spitting rather than speaking, as he swayed on his feet. The instinct to fight was commendable; Sarkh's stance resembled a ready posture, but with his hands drooping and his head low, it was clear the reptile was struggling to absorb what he had just taken.
|
|
|
|
|
Rugs
The ring-dang-doo, now what is that?
6,347 posts
1,102 likes
Friendly neighborhood CEO
|
|
last online Jan 12, 2024 11:24:20 GMT -5
Administrator
|
|
|
Jan 5, 2016 0:01:00 GMT -5
Post by Rugs on Jan 5, 2016 0:01:00 GMT -5
The beast lunged.
Nieraan stood his ground, confident in his skills, his reflexes, his power as lighting lanced through the dry air between them. His attack struck true before the Trandoshan could reach him. The hulking mass of muscle and primal rage halted before those claws could tear the flesh from Nieraan’s bones.
“Oh, just a bit too slow,” Nieraan cooed as his power wracked the beast’s body and sent him to his knees. “Better luck next time.” He raised his hand, rolling it over to look at his fingertips. They tingled with Force Lightning’s subtle, familiar sting. It hurt, a long time ago, when he was a boy first learning to harness his emotions as the Dark Side demanded. Now, the sting was as familiar as an old pair of boots…
“Something about the ground suits you,” Nieraan said, voice turning wryly as the beast struggled to stand. The Force yet filled him, but he didn’t strike out at his obviously shell shocked foe. Were the beast an immediate danger, Nieraan would act again to ensure he stayed down, but no… This wasn’t faked. That was clear as day from the beast’s shaking voice as much as his wavering presence in the Force.
Still, Nieraan wasn’t a fool.
“Conjurer’s magic?” he asked, unable to hide his contempt for such a silly notion. His fingers flexed, hand closing to a fist. The Force would likewise close around the Trandoshan to hold him in place, even if it stopped short of crushing him. For now.
“Don’t be stupid,” he said with a dismissive wave of the hand. “It’s the Force. More importantly…” one of the three sabers at his waist leapt to his palm with a tug of the Force. A gold blade hissed to life, throwing light like a burning star across the dim cavern. “Who are you?”
Nieraan should’ve noticed it sooner, he realized, but what were the odds of another trandoshan besides Sol’Kanar on the loose and behaving badly near the Temple. But yes, this one was smaller, perhaps (it was hard to tell once you got to a certain point of “very large”) and perhaps looked a bit different. The voice, more than anything, was the tip.
“And give me one reason why I shouldn’t kill you.”
|
|
|
|
|
lion
The Wintergreen
220 posts
38 likes
|
|
last online Jan 18, 2017 19:38:34 GMT -5
Padawan
|
|
|
Jan 5, 2016 2:12:45 GMT -5
Post by lion on Jan 5, 2016 2:12:45 GMT -5
Try as he might to have tolerated the bitter pain, the blast of Force Lightning from the very tips of the fingers of a mortal man was enough to bring the Trandoshan down to his knees. Being burned by fire and scalded was one thing, mere blisters and burns on the outer skin could be tolerated, but the charge that had shot through him went far deeper; wounding within the body areas that were never supposed to truly feel the daggers and slings of the outside world.
It felt as if being cooked from within, and even once the electricity had dissipated from his bones, the charring, almost sizzling sensation against his flesh left Sarkh desperate. It hurt to breathe, it hurt to think, and every bit of strength that had once resided in his body seemed unwilling to come to the fore; momentarily sapped from him like evaporated water.
It was waning, slowly subsiding, but even with that slow return of capacity, it was clear that he had been outclassed. No man with that strength was capable of being taken alone in such places; the prey had proven itself above the hunter for the time being, and rather than risk further humiliation, the Trandoshan simply opted to lay down his hand.
Even if it meant enduring the egotistical taunts that followed. The victor, after all, had the right to gloat if they so chose. And if not? The golden-hued lightsaber that had ignited in the Sith's hands, bathing the cavern in its shimmering glow, was authority enough to keep the Trandoshan hunter in line.
"You've not..Hrf..You haven't killed me yet; your reasoning is your own... Even now you're staying your hand." Sarkh offered in return, his rasping voice still panting as his singed lungs choked the dusty air down as hungrily as they could. Slowly blinking, shaking his head to try to concentrate, the Trandoshan continued; his gaze holding firm, wounded but un-submissive. "I am Sarkh; I came looking for knowledge,. To learn their ways; to learn the Force. I have it, I know this as fact; the Scorekeeper demands I hone it through struggle. I have with Jedi, so too now with the Sith."
"Those initiates I killed gave some knowledge, some insights...before they died. Either I learn from the Sith in word or in contest, or die in the attempt." Sarkh continued, taking from his nostrils a broad whiff of the air surrounding him once more, his gaze travelling from Nieraan's face, to the lightsaber, regarding the golden light of the weapon. "Knowing this, what will you do?"
|
|
|
|