Stolen Souls

[sparrow]

Tendrils of smoke rose from the skeletal remains of the once-shining buildings of Inner Teth, as the small group of Sith descended from the bridge into what remained of the city. Advancing through the rubble-strewn alleyways, Zarene’s eyes continuously scanned their surroundings, maintaining awareness of the Archeri creatures that shadowed their every move. All the while, the constant hum of scratches and screeches in the background, pulsating in the back of her head.

When Imago had tried cutting a piece of the violet crystal earlier, the voices had seemed to change momentarily, deepening, resonating with increased authority. Zarene had not been able to make out the words, but she did not have to to detect the threat, and she could notice the effect it had had on her companions.

Gesturing to Imago, she pointed to a thick column of black smoke ahead of them, from the ruins of what appeared to be a derelict landing pad and fueling station. “These Archeri haven’t attacked in force yet, but we can’t expect that to last. We should check for any places where we can form a defense. And if we can find any salvageable vehicles, it would make our exit easier.”

[Neology]

[googlefont="News Cycle"]

Rabbit sparrow tenkalus TW: body horror They hustled along an arterial pathway for several tense minutes, comms silent except for assorted breath sounds. The haze in the air thickened, shadowed forms moving at the corners of Imago’s vision. Damn helmet, he couldn’t see … A fey thought, of ripping it off and flinging it away, danced through his mind. The chittering in the dark seemed to be in favor, which more or less made up his mind to do the opposite. Imago bit his tongue hard, finding clarity through the pain. With no other option, he swallowed the slow trickle of blood. He followed Zarene’s gesture, brows drawing down as he reconstructed her half-heard suggestions. ”Yeah. Okay.” Almost any ship would do, that made more and more sense at this increasing distance. And the enemy could hardly learn anything from the courier vessel that hadn’t already been in his head. Fuck. The weave and weft of his thoughts had parted so easily before that incomprehensible mind. He didn’t think that even the Empress had that kind of power -- and everyone knew how easily she flayed the minds of her enemies, the Force-blind and Sith lords alike. It was televised more often than not. Imago unslung his pack, making to hand each of the others a containment device. He kept back one more for himself, in addition to the sliver of black crystal. ”Grab whatever you can or turtle up there.” A quick gesture pointed out the fueling station again, the dark crouching shapes of a few civilian starships barely discernible beyond. ”Don’t take too long.” He loped off along, poisonous green saber humming in his right hand, casting sheets of strange color in the particulate dense air. The pounding in his head guided Imago along, fungal grass squelching beneath his magboots. Here and there, wilted green native flora broke up the false impression of a dead city buried under snow or ash. Small irregularities threatened to trip him – investigating one such, he found clothing and shoes and assorted detritus. Stringy blackish soup leaked in all directions when the mass was disturbed. Repulsed, Imago stumbled away and broke into a jog. No birds, no insects … It was as if Teth’s native scavengers knew better than they did, giving this slaughter a wide berth. Perhaps they sensed the wrongness of it all? All creatures, even the most simple, touched the Force. That or they were all dead by now, just like Inner Teth’s higher lifeforms. If disturbed, would one also find sad bundles of feathers -- carrion birds -- beneath the ‘snow’? Did this planet have birds to begin with? He didn’t know. The … Tree – he had no other word for it – loomed up out of the fog suddenly. Twisted bands of silver bark, shot through with gleaming violet crystal that danced before his eyes. Boughs heavy with strange globular fruit, milky white and leaking thick sap. It called to him, a chorus of voices, dozens of galactic languages combining into a primal, deafing cry. The ground here because increasingly uneven, slowing his progress. Imago caught himself on a waist-high protrusion, twists of bark … A clump of human hair came away in his hand. He flung it off in revulsion and reached for one of the fruits. The Archeri conductor’s sharp forelimb struck him in the collar with impossible strength. The fruit crushed beneath Imago’s fingers, a wet mass around a crystalline pit, ripping free as he tumbled backwards.

[tenkalus]

Astrid’s head was pounding. There was so much perceptionary input that her mind was overload. From the whispering scrapes of foreign voices in her mind, to the chittering of clawed feet following them. Now there was a solidly disembodied voice making a play at invading her head with its booming presence.

Her chest was getting tight. She was finding it hard to breath through her mask now, and only the discipline taught from both her deceased father, and the fatherly mentor she’d found in Keelen, kept her from ripping the mask off as they slogged through the increasingly thick haze.

The squish and squelching beneath her boots was making her stomach turn now as well, and she was almost certain that once or twice now, that goop had given way and she’d stepped on bones resting below. Everything around them was covered in unidentifiable nastiness. Everything about Teth screamed wrong.

With a shaky hand she took the proffered container from Imago with a silent nod. Briefly, as she looked down at its surface, she caught a glimpse of her own reflection. She was pale as a ghost. The sight of her own snowy complexion send a fresh gout of fear springing through her body from head to toe like a jolt of electricity. Was she going to die here? Would she become part of this nightmare? Was Teth going to be her final resting place?

Would these foul Archeri make her a part of their so called “chorus”?

She glanced wistfully over at her master and noticed that he was being physically affected by the environment as well. Usually it was hard to tell with a Chiss, but to look upon him now, Lord Invictus looked sick. He was still puffing a bit from the combat earlier, something he should have already recovered from, given his physical fitness.

They weren’t going to make it out alive.

That spark of fear spread into a storm inside of her and suddenly, that singularity within her seemed to amplify it. Her emotions were a-swirl, leaving her drifting for a fleeting moment before her internal drive reached critical mass. And in that moment of looking to Keelen, Astrid made a decision.

Yeah, screw that. You aren’t dying here.

Keelen had rescued her from the jaws of death on Korriban. She was stronger now, and she had the Force. It was her turn to rescue him.

Alright bitches, you wanna sing with me? First we’ve gotta dance…

Astrid steeled herself, letting that debilitating fear get swallowed up in the imaginary void in her chest. With minimal effort needed, she replaced the fear with anger. She set the container on the ground for a moment while she reached behind her and tied her hair back into a single tail, pulling it tight so it would stay out of her eyes.

With a fresh burst of energy fueled by her hate, Astrid picked up her container and bounded forward toward what could only be described as a massive tree of some kind. She found a sickly looking fruit and yanked the lightsaber off of her belt. The borrowed weapon that Keelen periodically gifted her, had a trio of finned blades surrounding either side of the dual ended weapon. She scraped one of these blades across the nasty looking tube that connected the fruit to the tree.

With a splurching sound the gooey fruit plopped into her container and she sealed it, wrinkling her nose under her mask at the nasty sensory input this place was offering.

Almost immediately following the cut, enemies were rushing toward her. She’d figured they wouldn’t like that. You freaks don’t like us touching your stuff, huh?

A grim smile spread across her masked face. This was it.

She wasn’t asking Keelen’s permission this time. She grunted and flung her container over the heads of her oncoming attackers toward her master, and noticed the Archeri stop and watch the container, as if fixated on its contents.

“Ohhhhh no! I’m over here!” She yelled at them.

Dual crimson lightsaber blades hissed to life and Astrid made a cursory slash at the “branch” that had been holding her sample previously. There was a screech from the assembled Archeri and they turned to look back at her.

“That’s right!” She taunted again, her hate of these creatures growing more and more by the second, “I cut your tree! Come get some!”

Two dozen Archeri screamed in her head and charged. And so did Astrid.

Only, Keelen had taught her better tactics than to jump into a fight with a superior force. The Archeri had numbers, and even as confident as she as in her own skills, there was no way she’d be able to take even four at once, let alone twenty-four. So she charged, but in the opposite direction, deeper into inner Teth.

It was a diversionary tactic. This wasn’t about making a final, nor was she trying to impress anyone at this point. She just wanted to draw as many away from her master as possible while he completed his mission. Hopefully, he’d complete his task and would live to report on it.

Astrid knew her chances of surviving this maneuver were slim. But if Keelen lived, it was worth it. Without him, her life held no meaning. Without him, she had no life at all.

Get out of here master… go on and live. I love you papa… she thought to herself grimly as she pounded the ground with her retreat.

Not long after, she saw shapes ahead of her. She realized after the fact that this had been the direction Imago had disappeared down. The senior Sith had an Archeri standing above him, while he himself was on the ground, having been knocked down.

Astrid hissed to herself. She couldn’t run to his aide, lest she take care of one enemy and pull a horde on top of him in return as she passed by. So instead she hurled her saber like a spear, and was rewarded at least with a glancing blow to the creature before pulling the weapon back to her hand with the Force. At the very least, it bought Imago time to recover. At best, she’d just add one more enemy to the train she’d created.

She ran and ran, deeper and deeper into Teth with the enemy following hot on her heels. The voices yelling in her head were making her a little woozy but her anger and hate battled for supremacy on that front. Her emotions were strong, and ran deep. The Force was collecting in her like a building inferno as she ran through the quiet streets. When it was ready to burn her up, then she’d release it.

But it wasn’t there yet.

So for now, she kept her pace fast and her breathing as rhythmic as she could as she ran on.

[sparrow]

Stepping into what remained of the abandoned station, Zarene scanned her surroundings. Dark smoke rose from the husks of several speeders on a collapsed landing pad, kept burning by what appeared to be a broken fuel line. But the structure of the station itself was more intact than expected. Pillars and pieces of broken wall could provide some cover, and the outline of what appeared to be a relatively undamaged starship next to a number of fuel canisters could be seen through the haze at the opposite end of the structure.

——————-

Signs of Archeri influence increased as they continued their advance into the city. The cracked pavement and piled rubble was now covered with layers of fungal growth, slime that somehow seemed to be both sticky and slippery at the same time, covered in patches of wispy white hairs. The haze was increasing as well, the floating spores threatening to clog her rebreather. Half wanting to rip her helmet off to escape its now-stifling confines and the screaming of the chorus in her head, half thankful for the full head coverage so that none of the spores could touch her skin, Zarene trudged along after Imago, doing her best to stay alert and keep tabs on the numerous Archeri creatures that continued to shadow them.

———————-

She had been following behind Imago when it appeared. Another one of the creatures, but larger and more imposing than the others. It’s presence felt… stronger somehow, and its movements seemed to convey an increased sense of authority.

Could this big one be the one they called the Composer?

She didn’t have time to consider that thought, for as Imago reached for the fruit of the tree, the big one moved with frightening speed, its spiked limb slamming into the tall Sith, sending him tumbling back. Zarene threw out a hand to try and catch him, twisting her torso at the same time to raise the bowcaster with her mechanical arm, bolt aimed at the Archeri’s eyeless face. But the Archeri was too fast, throwing out a chitinous spike that slammed into her metal shoulderplate. The spike did not penetrate, ricocheting off, but the impact was sufficient to, combined with her already unsteady stance trying to catch Imago, throw off her aim, causing the shot to fly wide.

The big one shifted its head slightly, seeming to stare at her despite its lack of eyes. She could feel a sudden rising presence in the Force, a buildup of energy as it release a mighty telekinetic blast. Quickly throwing up her blast in response, the opposing waves collided, releasing a shockwave that sent her flying backwards.

Rising back to her feet, she caught in the corner of eye the flash of a crimson lightsaber, and Apprentice Blackspyre sprinting away at full speed, a trail of Archeri following. What? Shit. Now’s not the time to be splitting up. What good is drawing off a dozen or two if there are still enough left to overwhelm us piecemeal? Was she supposed to go after her?

She wouldn’t have time to decide, as a dozen more of the Archeri formed a semicircle facing her, the big one having disappeared somewhere behind them. Her bowcaster lay on the ground yards away, where it landed when had lost her grip on it during the blast earlier. So much for that. Even if she pulled it back to her hand she wouldn’t have time to load another shot before the Archeri would be upon her, now that she had seen just how fast they could move.

She could feel the Force channeling through her, bubbling anger and rage. But at the same time she felt a strange sense of calm. Ever since landing on the planet she had felt unease, uncertain of when the shadowy Archeri horde would finally attack.

There was no uncertainty now. Just her strength against the horde. You surprised me before, but I’m ready for you now.

Time seemed to slow around her as the Archeri drew their arms back, releasing their spikes. She could feel the spikes as they streaked through the air, and were intercepted by her channeled telekinetic stream. Twisting her body to the side, the spikes, contained within the stream, flew past her. Following her hand as she spun her body around, they swung around her like a slingshot. Releasing as they reached the other side, she sent the spikes shooting back towards their owners. Many bounced off, deflected by the chitinous armor, but a pair of the creatures screeched as the spikes struck true.

The surviving Archeri of the group leaped into the air. Several were sent flying by telekinetic blasts, but the remains landed around her, poised to strike. Summoning her lightsaber into her hand, Zarene activated the icy blue blade, which ignited with a snap-hiss, and raised the blade to meet the downward stabbing arm of the nearest Archeri.

Bring it.

[Neology]

Rabbit sparrow tenkalus Pain made itself known on Imago’s next in drawn breath, dark bruise colored flowers that momentarily overwhelmed all other senses. Overlaid vision, whited out sound. He was just about aware of the creature following him down, of Zarene reaching out … Two wrenching forces met, something crunched and gave. The Conductor retreated minus one forelimb segment, spiny protrusions fouled on Imago’s armor. He felt at it blindly, warmth then cold radiating outward as the absorbent under armor wicked away the blood. Oh, crap. With stab wounds, you weren’t supposed to pull out the implement if you had a choice. He knew that. Yet his panic and revulsion were stronger still. Still on the ground, Imago collected his strength and worried at the chitinous fragment until it came free in his hand. More blood, a rush of weakness that went all the way to his fingertips. He struggled to his feet. Patch kit. Right. Imago dug it out of a belt pouch, shaking out the thin black material and holding it to the hole. No time to mess with the proper adhesive – his palm filled with fire, melting it on over durasteel and wound alike. In his disorientation, one monster had become many. He lowered his arm, dropping the cupped flame at his feet. It caught with an audible whoosh, directed out in an arc before him. As before, the creatures burned strangely and silently. If anything, the fire was more a hindrance for the two Sith as the Archeri did not slow or show any outward signs of distress. He was forced to draw his saber and join Zarene, fighting at her back. Eventually the fire would get to something deep and vital, and that alien would drop. In a free breath, Imago kicked at one such corpse, knocking embers and ash free. There seemed to be something coiled within the trunk of the creature’s body, desiccated and vaguely humanoid. Imago swore, barely getting his saber up in time to block another scything set of forelimbs. This wasn’t working. Perhaps Zarene could fight indefinitely, but he couldn’t. And what of Astrid, run off to Force-knew-where? This had been a busy plaza once, before the Archeri and that ghastly tree. Landspeeders of all sizes languished under the murk. ”My lord, if you will oblige me! You lift ‘em and I’ll blow the fuel cells!”

[Rabbit]

This was Imago's mission and Keelen hung back accordingly, to allow his fellow Cultist to set the direction of their venture. The Chiss also brought up the rear, so that he could protect that particular vulnerability. Both light sabers activated and in hand, he half-walked, half-jogged both forwards and backwards as the party traveled away from the mangled sky-bridge and further toward the outskirts of the city.

The landscape was straight out of the worst nightmare Keelen could possibly imagine. The air was thick with particulates that Keelen wasn't sure were ash, or spores, or worse, or all of the above mixed together. The atmosphere was a sick, lightly-pulsing-at-certain-points violet. The Chiss had looked over records of Teth on their flight from Dromund Kaas; Teth had been a vacation world, a play-place for the wealthy and fortunate. Now...now it looked like a wasteland of death and disease. Every occasionally squelching step made Keelen sick to his stomach. Everything, down the smallest particulate and minutest atom shrieked of utter wrongness in the Force.

And the voices...oh, the incessant voices... It took almost all of Keelen's concentration to keep them at bay at the very barest edges of his mind. The call was simultaneously sickening and alluring. It, too, reeked of death and perversion. As they neared what could only be best described as a "tree", Keelen saw Imago fling what looked like a clump of hair away from him. Against his better judgment, the Chiss glanced down to the uneven terrain that he had been trying to ignore for the last few minutes as they all drew closer to their goal. Bile rose in the back of his throat as he realized that he had just stepped through something hollow. The protrusions around his boot looked for all the world like the curved edges of a broken rib cage. Hair...ribs... His scarlet eyes flickered back and forth swiftly to the ground around them.

It was hard to tell with the thick, putrid fungus growing on top of everything...but not everything beneath its nauseating cloak had decomposed beyond recognition. Most if it, actually, hadn't. Cracked skulls...brittle bones whittled down by strangling fungus...bodies slowly stripping of flesh that surely accounted for some of the soft "give" beneath his boots.

"Csei s carcir en'kar," he snarled to himself in his native tongue. ["This is hell."]

Keelen thought he had encountered evil in the gladiatorial pits of Nar Shadaa. Now, he was starting to think he hadn't even known what the word truly meant. He had no other verb to describe what Teth felt to him on every level of every sense he possessed.

Thankfully, his mind was abruptly distracted from its internal fight against letting his body give into its feelings of nausea and succumbing to the siren cries of the voices that pressed against him. First, it was swarm of chitinous alien bodies that rushed at the group as Imago started collecting his sample from the tree. Keelen immediately swiveled to face them, his light sabers at the ready, his body dropping into a centered crouch.

But, before he could start swinging, Astrid darted from his side and started running in the opposite direction. This, more than anything else, caught Keelen off guard, and the taciturn, emotionally self-controlled Chiss actually sputtered for a moment as he watched, disbelievingly, as his apprentice shouted in defiance at the Archeri, drawing several of their force away from Lords Imago and Sagitta. Splitting their own group was not sound tactics at the moment...but pulling a good half of the enemy away from engagement with them wasn't something to quibble over, either.

Good tactics, poor strategy, Apprentice, the thought flashed through his mind, followed close behind by a bright-red streak of fear.

That, though, was swiftly followed by an icy flood of pure rage. Like hell they were all going to die on this thrice-damned planet, to these quadruple-damned alien abominations. He had fallen back far enough from the group, taking up the rear as he was, that he was outside of the Archeri swarm trying to circle around Zarene and Imago at the base of the tree. A good half-dozen or so were scuttling for all they were worth after his apprentice - hare-brained, exasperatingly impulsive girl that she was. He had to hope that while she clearly had no clue what she was doing, that she would use the Force to her advantage and get back to his side alive.

Ch'at csohn k'tici vacosehn can vah, k'eten, he whispered softly as his scarlet eyes locked onto the fuel station in the distance beyond the tree, the Archeri swarm, and his fellow Sith. ["The Red Flame be in you, daughter."]

Without further ado, the Chiss deactivated his light sabers and, gripping them hard still in his hands, he bolted through the hole that had opened between the Archeri following Astrid and the Archeri trying to take down Imago and Zarene. Calling on the Force, Keelen straightened his spine, pulled his chin up high, and lengthened his long stride as far as it would go, as he sprinted toward the hull of a ship that faintly loomed up ahead of him through the swirling violet mist of choking ash and deadly fungus.

[sparrow]

You can join the Chorus peacefully. Why do you struggle? The rasping voice continued its lecture.

Piss off! Zarene thought to herself as she swung her lightsaber around, cutting through the spiked arm of the nearest Archeri. Together with Imago, the two of them fought back-to-back, their spinning blades forming deadly circles of blue and green. But no matter how many they cut down, the mass of Archeri seemed limitless and unyielding.

“Looks like Invictus has the sample,” she muttered to Imago as she ducked below an Archeri’s slash, before stabbing her saber upwards into its torso. “So it’s up to the two of us to cover for him until he can get to a ship.”

But both of them knew that this wasn’t working. The Archeri was a foe that did not seem to suffer from pain or fatigue, and it would only be a matter of time before they were overwhelm. She listened as Imago voiced a suggestion. Glancing at the numerous speeders that lay half-buried under the dark sticky muck, she understood. “Clear me some space,” she replied, “I need some room to work.”

Throwing out a quick force blast to knock aside the nearest Archeri, she pivoted and extended her a free hand towards one of the half-buried speeders. A larger model, most likely used as a tourist mini-bus when operational, but closer and less covered than some of the others.

The Force is mine to command. My will make it so, she whispered to herself, concentrating and increasing the flow of dark side Force power through her body, like a river of fire and ice, threatening to consume her if she did not maintain control, which was not helped by the constant screeching of the Archeri through the Force. Concentrate, concentrate,.... concentrate!

The body of the speeder shifted, metal chassis creaking as it strained against the fungal slime that held it down.

She slowly the palm of her outstretched arm upwards. The Force is mine to command…. The body of the speeder ripped free from the muck, floating above the the ground. My will…. The speeder followed as she swept her arm in a semicircle around her body, its chassis plowing into some of the nearest Archeri as it floated past Imago, towards the horde and the copse of violet trees.

"Now, Imago," she growled hoarsely. "Burn them all."

[tenkalus]

The skittering didn’t stop. For every fall of her boots in the muck, Astrid heard a hundred scraping claws rushing after her, sweeping through the mire beneath them.

What am I doing? Where am I leading them? Think Astrid, think!! What would Keelen do?

The answer to that was irritatingly simple. Keelen wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place, he’d stayed with their comrades as befitting a proper military man. But she had done this for her master and so it was on her to figure out where to go next. The chances of her surviving the numbers following her were slim and she’d known that going in. But if she was going to die, then she was going to take as many of these ugly creatures with her as she could.

They would earn her death.

Grim reservation embedded itself into her core and she mentally steeled herself for death as she hustled through the abandoned streets of Teth.

But there was no way around it. She was being followed closely by a superior force comprised of greater numbers. Even her esteemed soldier of a father would have seen this is a no-win battle, had he been alive.

That doesn’t mean I can’t make them pay for every inch. But how? How do I cut their advantage?

Astrid glanced frantically as she ran. Whatever she did, it would need to be soon. She couldn’t keep running forever.

There!

She cut a hard left and darted into the gap between two ghostly buildings, and straight into a long dead end. The buildings on either side were at least 20 feet high, as was the wall at the end of the alley. She wouldn’t be flanked here unless they took extra time to go around the buildings, climb up the side and then back down from behind her. By that time, she’d be back against said wall or dead. So it didn’t matter. She slid to a halt and turned around to face her enemy.

They were funneling in as best they could, but the alley effectively bottle necked the horde coming at her and they were so wide that only one Archeri could fit comfortably down the alley at a time.

“Yeah…” she huffed and set herself, saber coming up horizontally before her, “Your numbers… don’t count for shit, here!” Ultimately, it didn’t matter of course. There were still too many for her to handle.

And then they were upon her.

Her world turned to crimson ash as she poured her focus and concentration through the crystal of her lightsaber. Enemies lit up in her eyes like lights on a life day celebration. Her awareness expanded three fold and she held onto the sensation for dear life. A life she knew was about to end. But because she knew that, all the stops were being pulled out. The fatigue suddenly drained from her limbs, her eyes sharpened and her stance widened and her lightsaber began to whiz and whir seemingly of its own accord as the Force filled her up and guided her movements. Even in her armor, Astrid felt light and unhindered. Archeri limbs and bodies were flying through the air as her blades passed through them with little resistance. She was a whirling dervish, a riot of movement and death.

The only drawback to opening herself completely was that the noise in her head seemed to amplify as well, as if she’d turned the volume up on the same channel the Archeri were speaking through. Even in her exceptional focus, it was overwhelming. But she dared not let go. The headache that was building didn’t matter. The pain would be temporary. Things would be quiet again when she died.

Bladed arms sliced at her armor, feet kicked at her and fists pummeled her face and body. But still she fought on. There was an ocean of swelling bodies before her, littered with angry glowing red and orange wounds from her buzzing weapon.

One of the Archeri got through and shouldered past a comrade who was impaled on Astrid’s foremost blade. The scythe-like arm came down on her head, and she had to release one hand from her hilt to block. The scythe bit into her armor and cut down like it was made of cheese. She felt a sting on her arm but heard a metallic clank as the scythe hit the much tougher bracer below the upper armor. A bracer that Keelen had given her. There was definitely a dent, but the scythe hadn’t made it to skin, or better still, didn’t take her arm off. She ripped her saber free and stabbed it into the face of the offending alien, dropping yet another to the ground and tore her arm free of its appendage.

The voices grew louder in her skull.

Shut up…

One of the Archeri skittered forward and bodily kicked her backward, causing her to ricochet off of an abandoned garbage dumpster and slide to the ground. In that impact, she felt her left shoulder pop. When she was back on her feet, her left arm hung limp at her side.

She couldn’t spin her saber anymore. She could still stab and lunge with her weapon like a spear, but her defense was broken. This was it.

Icy fear crept into her again. She didn’t want to die. Not to these things. Not here.

The voices intensified.

Shut up, shut up, shut up!!!

Resentment, anger, hate and fear pooled in her chest, creating a mad and sickening swirl of negative emotion that began to burn her from within.

Over and over she lunged and struck. How many had she killed? She couldn’t count them now. Would it be enough for Keelen to get away? Had she even made a difference?

She took a deep breath through her mask and held it as her saber dropped from her loosening grip and deactivated. At least she would try to cool the burning in her lungs. But her head was swimming and Archeri were still coming.

The scratching voices were screaming in her mind now and she couldn’t take it anymore. Her head was going to explode with the strain.

SHUT UPPP!!!!!!!!

This time…. She didn’t have to hold back. This time, she didn’t have any ears to hold for fear of their owner dying on accident. At the very least, she had the foresight to flick her mask up to its original position on her forehead.

Astrid stamped her foot forward and screamed for all she was worth, squeezing her eyes shut tight from strain. She released the negative energy that had pooled in her chest and poured it into the Force.

Sound waves erupted from her like a shattering dam and rocked through the Force. Windows for three floors upward on the surrounding buildings exploded outward in sequence as the reverberation of her scream found them. The Archeri in front of her stopped, shook and eventually seemed to fold in on itself as it was unable to block or absorb the raw power pouring at it. Behind it, others similarly shook for a moment before dropping to the ground, their cries in the chorus overwhelmed by the dominating sound and power over them.

When she was out of breath, Astrid collapsed to her knees. She felt empty and hollow, and expected the sensation of blades tearing through her flesh.

But no blades came. Everything was quiet now. Was she already dead? Had the strain taken her? That didn’t seem likely because she hurt all over. Her shoulder was on fire and everything ached. Even her eyes were burning. But her training kicked in, and she belatedly dropped her mask back into place.

Maybe…. Maybe I’ll just rest for a minute. I don’t… I don’t have anymore left in me. She thought sluggishly.

The image of Keelen dead on the ground flashed before her and she started. “No!” She warned, opening her eyes wide again. “No I have more… I have… I have more! I can still... I ha-have more...”

With a grunt and another whimper of pain, Astrid latched onto the edge of the dumpster and hauled herself roughly back to her feet with her good hand. She groaned as she shuffled forward and leaned over to retrieve her lightsaber from the ground. And then she stumbled through the gore that had been left in the wake of her combat. She took note of none of it. Her mind was in basic survival mode now, probably in shock as she stumbled through the carnage she’d wrought. Then she caught a glimpse of herself in an unbroken shard of glass, hanging on to the former storefront it belonged to. She noticed a long gash by her hairline that was bleeding.

“Don’t … don’t wanna get infected..” she said in a disconnected drone. The lightsaber was clipped to her belt and she rummaged in her belt pouches for disinfectant spray and a bandage. She slapped the square bandage on with her palm and nearly fell over backwards from the impact. It barely touched the gash itself and was almost squarely center on her forehead. But the task had been completed and so she marched on, back toward where they’d spotted some ships. Driven by willpower and instinct alone.

Astrid hadn’t even noticed that her normally brown eyes had shifted from a tainted yellow-orange, back to their normal color in the reflective glass.

[Neology]

Rabbit sparrow tenkalus Clear some space. He could do that. Imago pushed the flames outward in an orderly, expanding net. If he was slow enough, he found that the Archeri crept back as well. They seemed to have some slight instinct for self preservation – they would not burn themselves unless they had to. Useful to know. One better than him. Imago pressed a few steps forward, into calf-high flames that shrank and reluctantly sputtered out. This armor had been truly made for him, thickly coated in some artificial material that did not seem to melt or burn. It transferred heat still, albeit very slowly and at an extremely inefficient rate. He didn’t feel the burns starting, shivering and shocky. His control was starting to fail. The fire spread on its own, swallowing up the fungal grasses in great leaps, lingering upon the oily residue left behind by the recently dead. The whole city – planet – needed a good burning. But how could you ever be sure to get it all? Y̡̙̬ͬ̅̅̒͒o̤̥u̙͍̘/̤͖͕͌̒̑͒̍ͧ̔͝Í̢͇͔̍/͉̞̘̼ͬ͌͊ͮ̾̇̂̕ẃ̳͒͌ͩe̝̦̳̭̯̖̐̂͞ ̜̩̣̫̜͞c̴͉̺̦̺̫̭̆ͧa̘̤͙ͧ̅̾n̜̟͆ͧn͕͛ͥͧ͞ǒ̬̾ͪ̄t͇̪͈̯͗.̭̞̫̹͙͔̔ The alien voice in his mind was amused, indulgent. As a parent speaking to a favored but regrettably slow child. Imago cringed against the invasion of self, bringing with it an unwelcome dilation of his senses. For a moment, he saw what the Composer saw. There was life of a kind here in abundance, channeled through the crystalline spires. The Chorus. It did not originate from the creatures themselves, but in their strange works … Spiraling up and down through the violet stone. The Force ran through it, an irresistible current that, on inspection, threatened to scoop Imago right out of his body. Only the shriek of tortured metal and a near miss from a bus of all things brought him back to himself. Without thinking, he drew his blaster and shot a neat hole in the speeder’s undercarriage and chased it up with a dancing thread of fire. The cells detonated explosively as the whole mess struck the spire/tree. It swayed and snapped deep down on the trunk, tearing open along one of the veins where wood and crystal merged. A flood of foul smelling brothy fluid spilled from the mortal wound. The impossible presence in his thoughts severed its connection. The remaining Archeri milled uncertainly for half a moment, then surged forward in an incensed, suicidal flood. Imago swayed on his feet and started shooting.

[Rabbit]

Keelen had never run so fast in his life - then again, he couldn't think, off the top of his head, a time when he was literally running for his life.

No, not just his life...for the life of three others. The Sith weren't exactly known for their emphasis on camaraderie or teamwork - at least, not in Keelen's experience. But, this was a battlefield and when lives were on the line, he reverted instinctively to how he had been raised from infancy to think - as a military man, who was part of a greater whole.

They were all getting out of this thrice-damned mess, dammit. If he had anything to say about it...and as it turned out, Keelen had quite a lot to say about the situation.

Or, he would have, if his entire concentration wasn't focused like a laser on the nearest ship looming ahead of him. The Sith's boots slipped and slid as he tried to find enough purchase on the fungus-slick ground to stop himself. He nearly fell over, as his forward momentum was pitched forward by his sliding feet. The Chiss threw out a gloved hand and caught himself on the smooth curve of the ship; even as he struggled to get a firm grip on the ground beneath him, his red eyes were dancing over the structure, assessing it for his purposes.

It was a personnel shuttle, by the size and look of it. No external indication of weapons, though it was built for speed.

Useless.

On to the next.

Keelen's assessment of the ship took mere seconds. No sooner had he gotten his feet firmly underneath him, than he was launching himself forward again. As he sprinted past the ship's curved aft, one on the other side of the personnel shuttle caught his eye. The Chiss did a sort of turning-slide of the kind one might see in Huttball, as he pivoted around to eye the next option.

There was a gaping hole in it and a fungus-covered form spilled out from over and around the jagged edges. Keelen's lip curled in disgust behind his mask - which was fogging up to alarming levels from his exertion. The Archeri had claimed another body, or two, by the looks of it.

Was there anything left alive on the planet? A shudder crawled up the Chiss' spine and for the first time since he started sprinting, he became aware of the sibilant voices trying to pull his attention away from his mission. The Praetor hissed and after a quick glance around, darted further into the small shipyard.

The Force let him know when his eyes grazed over the one meant for him and the others. Again, the Chiss skidded to a stop as he nearly ran past it. He slapped his hands on the cool metal exterior of the ship, his eyes lighting up as he made out the distinctive shape of external guns through the condensation inside of his mask. It was a model he was familiar with, too - a Corellian one, popular with smugglers and shipping merchants. Small enough to have speed, heavy enough to have decent armor, and from just a glance, it looked to be customized for a fight.

Keelen wasted no time in ducking below the hull of the ship and slamming the heel of his palm into a release panel that was located just to the left of the cargo ramp. With a hiss of hydralics, the ramp lowered; the Chiss bounced once, twice, on the balls of his feet in impatience. It was taking too damn long. He jumped onto the ramp before it had even hit the ground and he started moving as fast as he could through the short passageways to the cockpit.

He was flipping switches and pushing buttons the second he cleared the side of the pilot's seat. Engines roared to life and Keelen grabbed the controls as he all but threw himself against the seat cushions. He paused only long enough to mash the button to close and seal the cockpit door with one hand, while he ripped his mask off with the other. He couldn't see any more through the damned thing and he was going to need every sense he possessed to make this impromptu plan of his work.

First thing first - Astrid. Not out of sentimentality, either. The external guns couldn't be controlled from the cockpit; someone was going to have to physically man them. Keelen fully intended to have a gunner mow down the horde going after Imago and Sagitta. But, for that, he needed a gunner. Which meant, his apprentice.

Keelen just hoped that she wasn't dead already, or hopelessly mired in her own fight. His planned hinged on speed; he would have exactly enough time to locate her and hope like hell she could jump up onto the lowered cargo ramp. As the ship lifted off of the ground, Keelen took a deep, steadying breath and reached out for Astrid through the Force. It took him a few precious seconds...

...But, there she was. To his surprise, she was heading back toward the "tree", where she had veered off from the group. Keelen eased the ship forward - not too fast, since it would do no one any good if he over-shot Astrid's position. As for how she felt in the Force...well, the Chiss didn't focus on that too much. She was vertical and moving. That was all he cared about, for now.

And there she was.

Apprentice! he called to her, as he maneuvered the ship carefully toward her position.

The ship couldn't hover, so she was going to have to move, even as he moved himself. The cargo ramp was lowered, though and he hoped she'd get the point. Calling to someone through the Force wasn't his forte - about all he could do was hope like hell that she could discern his voice from the Chorus.

Astrid!

It was the first time he had ever called for her by name.

[sparrow]

The flash from the explosion filled the air, as the tree and surrounding Archeri were covered in fire. The ground was littered with shattered crystals and Archeri limbs. Flames danced along the fungal slime covering the ground, tendrils of smoke rising into the air.

But the gaps in the Archeri line were soon filled with new bodies, and the horde surged forward once more. From the corner of the eye, Zarene noticed Imago pulling his blaster and firing into the advancing wave. How many of these bloody things do we need to kill?

As the frontmost line of Archeri leapt forward, the second line stopped, raising their spiked arms. Zarene reacted quickly, pulling a sheet of twisted scrap in front of herself and Imago, just in time to the chitinous spikes launched by the Archeri to embed themselves within the metal, one of the spikes penetrating through the surface to stop inches away from her face. Too close!

“I think Invictus should have found a ship by now,” she said, turning towards Imago. “One of us needs to find Blackspyre and get her back here before --”

She didn’t have time to finish the sentence as the shattered husk of another speeder arced through the air, hurtling towards them. She rolled to the side just in time before the heavy metal projectile crashed into the ground in between where the two Sith had been standing, as Archeri swarmed into the resulting gap to surround her, trying to separate the Sith and pick them apart individually.

Her breathing was heavier than before. She could feel the sweat against her skin inside her armor. The effort of forming so many telekinetic weaves was taking its toll, and fatigue was setting in. Still have enough in me for a few more. Need to end this soon… As the Archeri closed in, she spun, slamming her fist on the ground, sending a concentrated telekinetic blast emanating in all directions, blasting the ranks of Archeri surrounding her into the air.

She remained kneeling on the ground, trying to catch her breath. She could see the shadow of the ships Invictus had been heading towards in the distance, the way temporarily clear. Just a moment to rest… Some fresh air would be nice….

Suddenly, the thrusters of one of the ships roared to life. The ship lifted into the air, passing overhead, flying towards the remains of the Archeri tree. What the…?

The invisible column of Force energy crashed into her, sending Zarene flying back into the broken wall of nearby building, the impact knocking what breath she had managed to gather back out of her. What the…? Where did that come from? With a thud, the colossal body of the Archeri conductor landed in front of her, brandishing its spiked limbs like swords as it rose to its full height.

With inhuman speed, the giant hands of the conductor pinned Zarene’s arms to the wall, thwarting her effort to call her lightsaber back to her hand. A sudden icy cold severed her tenuous grasp on the Force as the chitinous spike thrust through the gap between the armored plates of her armor to pierce her lower torso, following by searing pain. She gasped in shock, her strength fleeing from her body. Two more spiked arms of the Archeri conductor lowered towards her head, detaching the faceplate from her helmet. Zarene coughed as she inhaled a lungful of spore-filled air, the Archeri spike in her torso sending shockwaves of pain into her body with each shudder.

The Archeri conductor appeared to regard her as a predator who had taken down its prey, and was not simply keeping her alive out of amusement. You had the choice to join the chorus peacefully, little one, to join her voice with ours, the deep bass voice boomed in her head. Did you really think your feeble strikes could silence us?

Her vision blurred, as if she was viewing the world from underwater, warped and distorted. The sharp pain subsided slowly, replaced with numbness, as she felt her life slipping away, like grains of sand falling through her fingers. She had occasionally joked in the past that she did not expect to live to old age, but speaking in hypotheticals was one thing. Feeling death creeping upon you was another thing entirely. She had fought dozens of battles for the Sith Order, first under Darth Iniquitous, and later Empress Renata. Was this how she was going to out? No… no… no… no… I still have… just a little bit left...

“This is not how I die,” she whispered, gulping down the mixture of blood and mucus in her throat. “This is not how it happens.”

Summoning the remnants of her strength, she felt the Force flow into her once more as the world snapped back into focus, the numbness giving way as the pain flooded back in, as searing and sharp as before. The remnants coalesced into a focused blast, intensified by her pain and rage, pointed at the Archeri conductor that loomed over her. Taken by surprise by her sudden second wind, it could offer no counter in response. She gasped as the spike exited her torso, and the Archeri conductor was thrown back and launched high into the air.

Now free from its grasp, she reached for her faceplate, reaffixing it to her helmet. With the spike now gone, the gel underlayer of her armor began to fill in the puncture, a temporary stop gag that would prevent her from bleeding out immediately. Straining, she tried to push herself back up to her feet, but collapsed back to the ground instead. Can’t give up… not here…. I’ll make it back, even if I have to crawl.

[tenkalus]

It was force of will keeping Astrid Blackspyre on her feet when every cell of her being screamed for rest and respite. Her left shoulder felt as though she’d cut the joints open with bits of molten-hot jagged glass that seemed to jam further into her nerves every time the limb swayed.

Her thoughts were clouded and hazy, and her eyes saw nothing but her feet trudging before her. The same thought kept repeating over and over in her head: I have more… I can keep going.

Truth be told it would have been a stray wind in that moment to send the girl to the ground, and not even a strong one at that. But on she walked, trying to get back to the group. Subconsciously she knew she’d only be a liability to them in her current state. But Keelen was still back there. She needed to make sure he got out.

In the distance, movement caught her eye. Probably more bug people, coming to kill her finally. She gave a delirious little laugh at that. She’d taken a bunch of them out by herself. An accomplishment for the ages. One she was content to die with.

Apprentice…

And now she was hearing things again. Damn bug people, always trying to get in her head…

ASTRID!

She blinked in surprise at the urgency of the message coming down the bond she shared with Keelen. He’d given her subtle emotions and nonverbal instruction with nudges in the Force before, but never had she felt her name being called.


The apprentice blinked through the haze and reassessed the motion coming toward her. It wasn’t the Archeri at all. It was a low flying ship.

It was her master!

But the ramp was down and still coming at her. He was in a hurry and couldn’t stop. The ramp was too high for her to jump to. She was going to be overflown. Then a stray memory hit her in the face. It was a brief encounter with her favorite NCO back on the Revenant before she and Keelen had left for this mission. Sergeant Breena Omahri had offered her a piece of gear that she’d not heard of before. It was a last resort for soldiers in the field. Breena had handed her a single shot hypo injector to put into her medkit.

Warriors cocktail, she’d called it. Adrenaline mixed with a shot of dopamine. It was a mixture that would jumpstart her system and revitalize. But it was a last resort for the simple fact that such concentrated mixtures could also wreak havoc on a person’s system. The warriors cocktail could either keep you alive long enough for help to come, or long enough to take a few more enemies with you before you die.

With a trembling hand, she reached into her medkit and removed the hypo. She didn’t have time to deliberate about it. Astrid jammed the applicator to her neck and triggered the mechanism. There was a quick stab of pain in her neck, but it honestly didn’t compare with the rest of her body feeling like it was on fire.

Her world lit up in a new tone of a hued yellow as the adrenaline hit her blood stream. Everything snapped into extreme focus and the pain her body was radiating seemed very far away now. Her heart was pounding hard in her ears as her heartbeat escalated dramatically, threatening to thump right out of her chest as Keelen’s ship was getting closer and closer. But even hopped up on the chemical concoction, Astrid still only had one good arm and a body full of worn out muscles. As she glanced to her left, she took note of some of the abandoned speeders that lay vacant in the street.

With an apprehensive and strained whimper she jogged over to one, clenched her eyes shut and rested her forehead against its roof. She didn’t want to do what she was about to do. It was going to hurt like all hell, but she didn’t have a choice.

After three quick breaths to psych herself up, Astrid grabbed hold of her limp wrist and twisted as she slammed her dislocated shoulder against the speeder.

Her scream of anguish echoed off the ghost town, drowning out the sickening pop her her shoulder joint snapping back into place. Involuntary tears streamed down her face and mixed with the blood still coming from her forehead where the ill-placed bandage struggled to absorb it. She wanted to retch. In that moment she just wanted to pull her breath mask off and puke her guts out, from the trauma her body had endured.

But she could throw up later. Right now, Keelen was trying to rescue her. Again.

Still, the ramp was too high for her to jump and snag, and she wasn’t so talented with the Force and its manipulation yet that she could give herself a serious boost. So she ran away from the ship as hard as her weary and chemically amplified body could carry her. Down the street in the same path the ship was traveling. There was a truck a few spots back and she ran up the hood of the abandoned speeder in front of it, then up to the truck itself, and finally onto the boxed trailer behind it. It wasn’t an exact match for Keelen’s angle but it was good enough for her to leap as soon as her feet his the trailer. She launched herself as hard as she could and reached out for the ramp.

Her fingers closed on the very edge, and as soon as her shoulders took her free swaying weight, her left shoulder screamed in protest, or maybe it was just Astrid that was screaming, with the adrenaline going, she couldn’t much tell.

But she did know that it was her screaming when she gritted her teeth, shunted the pain and hauled herself up in the most dangerous pull up she’d ever attempted. With a monumental effort, she swung her left leg up over the lip and scrambled up fully to the ramp and lay there gasping, and sobbing in the same breaths. Again, reality hit her and she realized she still wasn’t done.

Astrid turned on her belly and clawed her way into the ship. She didn’t even bother going to the cockpit. Keelen was in a hurry, and was likely trying to leave. Their group had stirred up trouble, and it was unlikely that they were going to be simply allowed to leave. She crawled to the center of the ship and swung her legs over the hole in the floor, trying to get purchase on the ladder down to the turret.

But her foot slipped and she cried out in strangled surprise as she tumbled down into the gunners seat, hitting her head against the wall as she fell. The impact wouldn’t do serious damage but if she lived, it would definitely bruise. There was no headset for her to put on in this ship, but she didn’t care. Keelen would feel her there. She was practically radiating pain from every pore of her body.

Lights were flashing, her heart was pounding so hard in her ears that it was causing her vision to fluctuate between crystal clear and hopelessly dazed. Yet her hands found the control stalk of the gunnery station. She twisted the stalk and the turret spun 360 degrees endlessly, throwing her back in the chair until she corrected the angle. By the time her vision was right again, she found that she was looking at a sea of Archeri swarming over Imago and Zarene’s position.

How was she supposed to get enough focus to fire and not hit her companions?

Easy, stupid. Shoot at anything that has too many arms.

Her thumbs found the turret triggers and the dual cannon barked to life. She twisted the stalk and stitched a line of heavy blaster fire right up the street, across the tree and then into the crowd of swarming insect people.

Astrid leaned into the controls and screamed again, brow knit in anger and frustration and agony. She bellowed with the staccato of the guns, as if her yelling would add power to the energy spewing from the ship, raining death down on the heads of the aliens below.

When she was out of breath, she began panting, a low whimper with each shallow lungful. But she filled them again and shouted her defiance once more until she had nothing left.

[Neology]

Rabbit sparrow tenkalus Concentrated fire was the thing. Four or five shots, if grouped near enough, pierced the dense outer layer of the thorax or head. That dropped an Archeri … Caroler, Imago extemporized, in their tracks. He should have brought a heavier blaster. A lightsaber and his talents with the Force had seemed enough to him as recently as this morning. Unfortunately Makashi was ill suited for this repetitive butcher’s work. Even were that not the case, he couldn’t be sure of parrying too many more of those terrible blows. The Archeri had the advantage in both height and raw strength. A swordsman could expect another to take the place of each he killed. Imago ducked into cover with Lord Sagitta, managing a vaguely affirmative grunt that could have been acknowledgment or thanks. Search for that girl? He did not consider himself callous – at least so far as Sith went – yet he couldn’t see how either of them might manage to do that, pinned down and surrounded as they were. Even if it were possible, what would become of the one who stayed? ”I’m sure she – Shit!” Imago dove clumsily, dropping his blaster pistol in the soupy muck. He lost sight of Sagitta through the smoke and debris, though he could still hear her through his suit radio. She was sucking air as desperately as he was, rather inelegant proof of life. The Archeri forced him to creep back, though the fire and crashed speeder forced them into double or single file. He palmed a spare power pack, roughing its inner edge with his knife. Throwing it like a grenade, Imago squeezed his eyes shut against the sudden burst of bright plasma. Ship engines, flying low. He felt it in his belly, beneath his feet. Imminent death or sweet salvation, dare he open his eyes and see? That he wasn’t suddenly chewed up by turret fire seemed to be the surest answer. Imago struggled to rejoin Zarene, clambering gracelessly over the rough terrain. ”My lord?” She wasn’t moving and, between the ship and someone screaming over comms, he couldn’t hear anything else. Too tired to complain or worry he crouched and lifted her, draped over his good shoulder. Between the armor and cybernetics, she was heavier than he expected. Dizziness rushed to his head as he stood up. The ship set down and, as something of a belated afterthought, Imago cleared a track through the fire. Poor NZT-331. Maybe someone could come collect it someday. If they ever stopped this thing, which didn’t seem likely from where he was standing. He struggled up the loading ramp and watched it close up behind him. He wanted to sit down. He wanted to sleep. He wanted to lay down and die. ”Pilot?” Imago spoke hesitantly at first, it could have been anyone at the helm and he doubted he’d notice the difference. ”Set a course for Nar Shaddaa. This ship could be compromised, I need to make some calls ...” We could be compromised, too. He shifted Zarene on his shoulder, hoping he was not wasting all this energy on a corpse, and went in search of the medbay. Failing that, a bed would do. It should only be a few hours to the Smuggler’s Moon. After all, the Composer had said plainly enough that he would let them go. Why?