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Jazen
Beelzaboot
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Rocking from the Great White North
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Apr 18, 2010 20:46:51 GMT -5
Post by Jazen on Apr 18, 2010 20:46:51 GMT -5
Jazen had watched as Kzat, down to only one usable hand, rushed his master in what could be considered a suicidal last stand. Guess that meant he wasn't going to accept Locke's offer of surrendering. Jazen didn't know much about Kzat's species, something he intended to rectify when they got back, but his initial thought was that he was no match for his master with only one arm. That turned out to be horribly incorrect. Kzat matched his master move for move, countering Locke's strikes despite only having one arm to swing. At first, it was a stalemate, neither of them able to gain the upper hand. And then Kzat gained it without even having to do anything. His master had attempted to Force push him and it barely made the man budge. That took away the edge Locke might have had in this battle.
Quickly the tide turned, as the brief moment of pause Locke offered Kzat gave him all the time he needed to counter. Locke's lightsaber went flying and just as he managed to get up, Kzat was on him. Jazen's mind urged his body to get up, to race to aid his master, but it defied him in its exhaustion. Jazen cursed, focusing the Force around him to heal his body faster, so that he could get back in this fight. He watched as his master dodged the strikes Kzat sent his way, noticing that they slowly started connecting more and more. The first hit must still have been affecting him. Jazen winced as Kzat scored another direct hit, this one cutting a bloody cut in his master. Kzat didn't waste the chance, grabbing his master by the throat and hoisting him up in the air. Jazen begged his legs to move, to give him enough strength for one final surge at the man so that he could remove his ugly head from his body. Once again, they disobeyed. And he felt his master's presence in the Force wain.
The sudden crack of a weapon broke the silence that had managed to fill the bridge area. Jazen thought at first that it had come from the bounty hunter he had met earlier, but a curling wisp of smoke told him otherwise. The woman they had been sent to get had done it. Kzat dropped like a dead fish, his master barely getting out of the way before it landed with a thud. Jazen suddenly realized he was holding his breath, letting it out with an exhausted sigh. Somehow, his body decided now to listen to him and he managed to stumble his way over to his master, poking Kzat's body with his foot to make sure he was dead. Satisfied that he was, Jazen deactivated his lightsaber and helped his master his his feet. He almost caved over in the attempt, but the fact that they had managed to win gave him a second wind on which to draw on.
"You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say that you were actually having trouble with a one armed enemy. But that couldn't be true, could it Master?"
Jazen cast his master a grin as the words left his mouth, then turned his attention to the wound on his gut. It was actually pretty shallow, although if they didn't treat it right away, it could be serious. But they had time to get to that and for now, their mission required attention. Jazen motioned to one of the guards, this one obviously a medic that had been called when injuries were to be expected, and pointed him to his master. Jazen then approached the woman, nodding to the bounty hunter as he did. Carefully, he lifted the blaster from her hand, using the Force to project that everything was fine and that she was safe. From what he could see, the woman was fine, at least physically. He continued to pour positive feelings into her, hoping that it would keep her from panicking again.
"What she says is true. My name is Jazen Solari and that man there is my master, Locke Nemsee. Our objective was to find you and take you into our protection, far away from the Hutt. I apologize for scaring you in our earlier encounter. I didn't know that my approach would have that effect on you. But it is over and you are completely safe now. No one else will be coming for you and even if they do, we'll make sure they don't get within even visual distance."
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Kella
Fire and Blood
4,089 posts
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Fire cannot kill a dragon.
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last online Oct 30, 2014 9:41:46 GMT -5
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Apr 18, 2010 22:30:31 GMT -5
Post by Kella on Apr 18, 2010 22:30:31 GMT -5
Blanche's shoulders ached from the kick-back, but she would not let go of the gun.
Blanche's arms trembled from adrenaline and exhaustion, but she would not let go of the gun.
Blanche's fingers ached and throbbed from the death-grip with which she grasped the weapon, but still, she would not let go of the gun.
And when some invisible force, like an over-powerful magnet, tried to yank it from her grasp, she sure as hell did not let go of that gun.
Blanche's eyes were filled with the vision of the dead Dashade. The same creature that had carried her so roughly across the streets, that had made her witness to murder, was lying there. Dead. He'd held the very same barrel to Blanche's head, but he was the one with the hole through his skull. Not her. He was dead. Finally, he was dead. The blood that spilled out into the pavement, and trickled between the mortar guaranteed that, more than stillness, more than silence ever could. It was the blood. There was too much blood for him to be alive. Blanche was free, free of the stupid Dashade. But she was not safe, oh, no, she was not safe.
"It's OK, it's finally over now." Every muscle in Blanche's body leapt at the noise, tense and skittish. She was like a wary stray, too long abused to trust much of anything. The one thing that made her feel safe, the one thing that made her feel powerful was the bit of crafted metal in her hand. She pointed the gun directly at the woman. It was point-blank. There was no way she would miss. "You can put it down," the woman continued. "Do you remember me? I'm Arwyn. I'm with these Jedi here. You're safe. You're safe."
Arwyn might as well have been comforting a rabid bear.
"The Hell I remember you," Blanche spat. Blanche's eyes saw only malice in the hand that reached towards her, and she struck out viciously at Arwyn's arm with the heavy gun. "Don't touch me!" she screamed, her feet gripping the pavement and pushing her backwards along the rail of the bridge. "Don't you dare touch me, Shutta!"
And then Blanche heard the merc tell the Jedi to get his robe.
"I don't want your damn robe," she growled, "I want someone to tell me what the Hell is going on." In this outburst, she didn't hear Arwyn's last sentence.
Blanche was startled again as she realized another had approached -- and she knew just who he was.
"I know you, you're with the Shutta," she said, cutting into the beginning of his speech, Her eyes flicked between them both barely listening as he continued. Even if she had been paying much attention to the words, she wouldn't have believed them. "You think a damn apology is going to make up for it? If you're a Jedi, you're a gorram awful one, seeing as you're apparently working with the spittle that wants to kill me! Or worse!" All his calming waves might have been dandelion seeds against a brick wall. A Padawan's suggestions were not particularly strong anyway, and Blanche's mind was somewhat removed from sensitivity to the Force, it was a thing, a sensation that she did not know, and never would. There was a disconnect, and for all Jazen's efforts, the results were naught.
Blanche watched as the boy's arms came to take her gun -- his hands like claws to take it away! But he would not get it. Nothing in the universe could break her iron grip -- nothing.
That gun was her power, that gun was what transformed her from a vulnerable moth, to a snarling bear. The gun had freed her from the Dashade, the gun commanded respect, the gun stuck a steering wheel on her future. She called the shots now.
She didn't know how to use a slugthrower, but she knew about them. She'd translated for enough arms dealings to know that this one probably had about six shots in all. So, for the next five bullets, she was in charge. She was powerful. And all the universe be damned if she was going to run and hide a moment more.
And there was no way, not anywhere in this realm or another, that Blanche was going to let go of that gun. Instead, she raised her foot, her knee coming up to her chest like the coiling of a snake, before lashing out with a solid kick towards the boy's chest. Her leg was longer than his arm, and he was close enough she could see the whites of his eyes. There was no way she could miss.
Blanche pushed her feet against the ground, then, using the rail of the bridge to push herself up onto her feet, without taking her eyes off the two offenders, or her hands off the gun.
A quick glance around gave Blanche the opinion that the guards were much smarter than these two, for they had wisely given her a wide berth, not daring to approach the obviously antagonized former hostage. Of the three that stood out, the only one that Blanche had not seen before the bridge, was the Jedi who had stood up to the Dashade. If he was really a Jedi.
"Don't you two move, not a muscle," she said, her voice sounding more desperate than commanding. She swung the barrel first at Arwyn, and then at Jazen.
"You, whoever you are," she gestured at Locke with the gun. Her feet were still braced against the barrier of the bridge, and she was ready to take the kick-back, if she had to fire the gun again. "If you're the Jedi they sent to me, then prove it. Prove you're not a mercenary, and prove you're not working for the Hutt. But nobody," she said, "Is going to touch me." Her voice cracked and wavered now, but it was still strong with the strength of exhaustion, still loud with the agony of silence.
~~~
While Blanche gave her Ultimatum, whispers rippled among the crowd of guards. They had not come to stand forgotten, they had come to do their jobs. While a few went and tended to the fallen ones, those on the other side of the bridge were largely untouched -- he hadn't been one of their unit, after all.
But that woman, the one who had flown in on a Jet pack... Perhaps the whisper started somewhere, and diffused through the crowd, or maybe it came upon all of them like dawn, the soft, unanimous realization that the woman was who they thought she was.
The one who had busted the roof.
The next few moments with meaningful glances and silent pushes, as each guard tried to goad another into making the announcement. They were not cowards -- far from it. But each of them, being a sane and rational being, was as wary of the Arkanian who was wildly flinging that gun around, as they were of the mercenary, or the two Jedi. Native Alderaan people, they were more used to traffic violations and minor squabbles than they were to full-out combat, and utter destruction of public property. However, eventually the wonderful democracy prevailed, as the majority decided who would be compelled by the power of their stares. As it were, the minority vote happened to belong to the one who was the subject of the staring.
Johan Bak happened to be one of the Rookies, a new recruit who was eager to show his worth. He just didn't want to have to show it near a volatile Arkanian, a weird mercenary, and a wild-card Jedi. He attempted to recruit a partner, but had no luck. And so, his high chin, rolled-back shoulder, and confident strut could barely conceal the nervousness that radiated from him, every time his adam's apple bobbed from another anxious swallow. He walked until he was still a good three paces from the mercenary woman, and he kept her and her armor between him and the gun.
"Ma'am," he said, but his voice was barely even at a conversational volume. So, he cleared his throat and tried again. "Ma'am!" Ack! Too loud! But he continued anyway, trying to make his voice sound as commanding as possible.
"Ma'am, you're under arrest for willful destruction of public property. Please come with me."
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Rugs
The ring-dang-doo, now what is that?
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Apr 19, 2010 22:43:37 GMT -5
Post by Rugs on Apr 19, 2010 22:43:37 GMT -5
Locke's head fell to the pavement as the last words left his mouth, and for a few moments, he had quiet. Sweet, blessed quiet. With all of the fighting and running through the city, and that whole bombing deal at the University, Locke was glad that it looked like things were finally coming to a close. This was supposed to be simple, he mused as his head rested against the cool, smooth stones of the library. Come in, get the girl, leave. There wasn't supposed to be all of this trouble, all of this death. A lone eye slid open and turned to see one of the guards standing a short ways back. How many of his comrades have died tonight? And for what His focus drifted over to Blanche. This girl? Whatever knowledge it is she has locked away in her head?
As much as he'd just like to lay there on the ground and think about things, he knew there was still work to be done. While Blanche was no longer in any immediate danger, they still had to get her out and away to safety. Locke also would need some medical attention so he didn't pass out halfway across the bridge from the blood loss that was coming from the gashes on his chest, which would probably leave permanent marks, when all was said and done. The ladies do like scars, so I guess it's not all bad, he thought wryly as he started to push himself up and off of the bridge's surface.
Jazen was moving by this point, and Locke took his hand gratefully and rose to his feet. It was then that the boy decided to make a quip about Locke's struggles with Kzat. Now, normally, Locke would've been thrilled at this, but the cumulative effects of everything that had happened on the mission weren't really doing good things for his mood, and so he simply muttered unpleasant things under his breath. He glanced down at Kzat for a moment, remembering that the Dashade had brought him to the brink of death only a few moments ago. Locke could respect his skill, if nothing else. And he only had one arm... The thought struck him that the Dashade's death had been poetic in way as Locke studied the bullet hole in the back of the big reptiles head. Locke's gaze turned to Blanche once more. Fitting that she should be the one to kill him after all she's gone through. He waved away the medic that was trying to get to him; he'd be fine for a few moments more.
Arwyn suddenly spoke up, asking Locke to give her his cloak for the girl. Locke sighed irritably, ignoring the blood that was still running down his torso for a moment. He didn't have his cloak. Not now. He'd discarded it a while ago, when he'd made his first wardrobe change in an attempt to blend in. But Jazen spoke before Locke could say anything, trying to calm the Arkanian girl down. Locke opened his mouth again to speak when his student was done, but he was cut off once more, this time by Blanche.
She exploded.
Locke watched most of it passively, and despite his souring mood, felt a bit of amusement rise up in his belly. She's fiery, that's for sure. Of course, none of it really pertained to him, as most of her ire was directed at Arwyn or Jazen. Well, none of it pertained to him until the end, rather. Then she looked to him, and demanded, no, challenged him to prove that he was a Jedi. Of all the things the ungrateful little wretch could do, she did that?!
Locke's focus was only on Blanche, and so he didn't notice when the guard came up to Arwyn, indicating that she was in a good deal of trouble for destroying something. No, he was focused on that troublesome girl, and trying not to lose his temper.
It didn't work.
"I'm sorry," he said, his incredulity leaking through into his voice, "you want me to prove to you I'm a Jedi?" Locke just stared at her blankly, as if he could not comprehend why she'd ask such a thing. "I've chased you around this damn city all night." Heat was starting to rise in his voice, and a faint reddish tint was growing in the olive skin of his cheeks. "I've nearly been knocked unconscious twice, I've had a grenade go off not ten feet away from me, and I was almost caught in the explosions in that University. And you want me to prove that I'm a Jedi?! I'm not doing this for pay, Blanche!" His voice continued to rise as he spoke, and was now at the point of a barely-restrained yell. "Look at me," he continued with a short, sharp gesture at the wounds across his chest. "I just got myy ass beat near to Corellia for the sake of saving you! What else do you want?!"
He suddenly reached out with the Force, pulling the hilt of his deactivated blade to float above the palm of his outstretched hand. "Do you need to see that I can do that?" The hilt fell into his grip and the yellow-orange blade burst to life. "Look, it isn't red. That means I'm a good guy, right?" A sudden thought crossed his mind. It was risky, given the Arkanian's current mood, but he couldn't think of any other way to try to gain her trust. "Here, if you still don't trust me, take this." He removed his blaster from its sheath and tossed it lightly to her. "And this." The blade of his lightsaber faded away, and it too, was tossed to her. Locke took a step back and spread his arms out, palms open to Blanche. "You've all my weapons Blanche. Save the Force, I'm unarmed, and I'm too tired with too much of a headache to use that properly. If that cannot make you trust me, then I don't know what will."
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Cirith An'Gol
"You got something for me? or are you just another slack jawed arruetti admiring my armor"-Cirith
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last online May 31, 2020 19:14:38 GMT -5
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Apr 28, 2010 0:01:10 GMT -5
Post by Cirith An'Gol on Apr 28, 2010 0:01:10 GMT -5
((OOC: Sorry it's so short, I might add some later))
Arwyn was pissed. Not only did Blanche, the ungrateful Arkanian girl she was trying to save, threaten her, then she proceeded to curse at her, point the Slugthrower at her and then to add insult to injury some wannabe cop was trying to arrest her for destruction of public property. Arwyn calmly took off her black and maroon helmet and leveled a piercing green gaze at the man behind her as he stepped up. "Copaani mirshumre'cye, vod? Step closer greenie, I dare you" the Mandalorian said coldly (Copaani mirshumre'cye, vod? means Are you looking for a smack in the face mate?) her fists clenched tightly at her sides.
"Somebody better get this chaakar off of me before I make him eat his handcuffs" Arwyn glanced at the two Jedi, her gaze resting on Locke's apprentice, Jazen, as he took the kick Blanche placed and jumped back a couple feet.
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Jazen
Beelzaboot
1,617 posts
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Rocking from the Great White North
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last online Apr 20, 2022 19:46:47 GMT -5
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Apr 28, 2010 18:39:44 GMT -5
Post by Jazen on Apr 28, 2010 18:39:44 GMT -5
Of all the things Jazen had expected the woman to do when she was freed from her captor, freaking out at them wasn't one of them. And if he was a normal person, her sudden and violent attack on him would have caught him completely off guard. Her kick might have actually done some serious damage too. Luckily, being a Jedi had many benefits and one of them was being able to feel the emotions of those around him. So when her emotions went from frightened to confident to angry, Jazen knew something was coming. He sensed it too late to completely evade the attack, so he did the next best thing. As he foot started to come at him, he put a small amount of Force on her kick, reducing its momentum.
The kick still connected but with less force, knocking him back only a short distance. But her emotions told him she would use that gun in an instant on him if he came close again, so he leapt back as soon as he stopped stumbling back from the kick. Part of him wanted to activate his lightsaber, to cut that slugthrower clean in half and then pin her to the wall so they could try and explain. But that would probably end badly...and it was most un-Jedi like. It was more of what a Sith would do. But Jazen focused his attention back to her, then his master, who was being demanded to prove he was a Jedi.
Jazen almost laughed at the demand. The only ways a Jedi could prove he was a Jedi was in his lightsaber, which obviously didn't work, or by using the Force, which his master tried. But his next move surprised even Jazen. He took his blaster and his saber and floated them over to Blanche. Jazen cast his master a suspicious glance, a what-the-heck-are-you-thinking? kind of glance. But he saw the wisdom in it as well. If she thought she was safe because of the weapon, giving her more might give her enough confidence to allow them to talk. The again, she could also try and run again or even attack them in disbelief. Jazen eyed her boots, then the weapons she now held. The blaster and saber he could handle and if he needed to, he could deal with the slugthrower. And if she tried to run, she'd find that her boot laces were suddenly tied together. Of course, he hadn't done it yet but he probably could do it fast enough if need be.
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Kella
Fire and Blood
4,089 posts
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Fire cannot kill a dragon.
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last online Oct 30, 2014 9:41:46 GMT -5
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May 8, 2010 0:23:38 GMT -5
Post by Kella on May 8, 2010 0:23:38 GMT -5
"Look at me," the Jedi said, and she did. "I just got my ass beat near to Corellia for the sake of saving you! What else do you want?!" Something about his words, and the way his bloodstained clothes hung in tatters twanged a cord within Blanche, somewhere through all the dense layers of paranoia and mistrust, of pain and abuse. But twanging a cord wasn't enough to start a melody. However, it was when she clumsily caught the Jedi's weapons, and watched his arms outstretched, nonthreatening, that some ethereal hand drew itself across the cords, and that discordant melody became a bit of truth. She looked down at the weapons in her hand, and blinked. And then she looked up at the man, and blinked. The Jedi. She had no idea what to do. Oddly, most of her had been hoping that the man would fail to prove it, because running was something she could do. Fleeing was easy, escaping she'd done before. But now... it was over? She was safe, with the Jedi? Well, maybe not safe yet... but with the Jedi. It was disarming, that singular shock of actually having her demand met. It was then that she realized, in a mind-numbing moment, that that was the first time she had ever told someone to do something, and they'd done it. She wasn't quite sure what to do. So she said, "Okay." First it was deathly quiet, barely more than a murmer, and the second time, only a cracked whisper. And then she said it again, just a hair louder, and once more, a low mutter. It was as if she was saying it more to herself, soothing herself, assuring herself that putting forth a single strand of trust wouldn't summarily cause the world to explode. Heck, it probably would, but at this point... Blanche was beyond caring. She took a cautious step forward, and then another, like a timid fox sniffing at the hand-fed meat. She turned her eyes to the weapons in her hand, and swallowed hard, beginning to extend her arms to pass them off... She looked up at the Jedi, and for the smallest sliver of a moment, for the quickest flash of light, her gaze was one of implicit trust. And then the world exploded. Funny how these things work. Heat pushed Blanche backwards, blinding her infrared-sensitive eyes. She gasped as the concrete below her wretched, as if gripped by some nauseating illness, and the weapons, her safety, her power, tumbled to the ground as Blanche herself teetered backwards. And even as she tried to right herself again, the floor beneath her feet began to dissolve. It was like reaching the top of a staircase, and expecting one more stair than there is. That moment of gut-wrenching falling, when security was expected... Except, unlike the top of a staircase, the sensation of falling didn't end -- and it was a sensation born in a fact, for Blanche's chilling scream knew before she did, that she was falling. The world raced by her, backwards, closing away from her. Perception of time was lost to her, for when the fall finally came to a violent end, she could have said it took five minutes, and she could have said it took a heartbeat. The water slammed into her from behind, but it was only water because that's what was logically supposed to belong to bridges. In that moment of impact, it was a brick wall, an impassable face, and it ripped into Blanche's spine with all the fury of an angry Rancor. But then the wall melted and devoured her, and in the shock Blanche could do nothing but let the current sweep her along. This was not like the calm canals of the city. This was their mother, their source, and their final resting place -- the broad river that bisected the city, like some sentient deity of the lurching waves. Down, down, Blanche was pounded, then up again, and for a moment, her head was above water, and her body snapped-to when her mind could not, gasping in a breath of air. Suddenly, Blanche came out of her daze, and panic sent icy stabs of fire through her limbs. She began to beat and struggle against the current. Once upon a time, she'd been taught how to swim -- but she hadn't been submerged in over ten years. She strained to remember the patterns, strained to get her head above water for the few gasping moments in which she could breath, before the air turned to water and poisoned her lungs... //_________________|__________________\\ "Hmmm." It was a cold, throaty sound of assessment, similar to that expressed after one who understands the angles and the math of billiards, lets her finger slip, and misses the shot. That was basically what had occurred, as was revealed by the analytical slant of cold yellow eyes. The rocket launcher still smoked, oozing satisfaction at having departed a gaping hunk of duracrete from the bridge. The mind behind the weapon was fresh, a new hunter in the savanna, and had decided, at least for this kill, to pursue a somewhat showy style. It would have worked splendidly, if not for how the target had moved suddenly, just before the rocket had launched, and so instead of taking out the target, it had destroyed the bridge beneath her, sending her, naturally, off the bridge. Alas, the cue had slipped, and the billiards balls had gone awry. But they hadn't stopped moving yet, so maybe an unexpected one would fall into the pocket... The figure leapt down from a ledge thirty feet above the bridge, black cloak billowing and obscuring them in mystery. Some aspect of their anatomy was able to absorb the blow, and so the figure remained perched on the edge of the bridge, the same side from which Blanche had just fallen. Showy indeed. Maybe, if played right, this could become a recurring scene. Glowing eyes turned back, assessing the percieved threats on the bridge. The yellow splashes brimmed with malice, feeding on the tension in the air...
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Rugs
The ring-dang-doo, now what is that?
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May 9, 2010 20:38:59 GMT -5
Post by Rugs on May 9, 2010 20:38:59 GMT -5
Silence hung in the air after Locke made his attempt to calm Blanche. It was a loud silence, an invasive silence--a silence that, for Locke, held within it the hope that had been so fleeting for most of the night. It was (he hoped) the final test of the worthiness of all of the effort and frustration he'd been through, all for the hope to save this small, frightened Arakanian woman. He'd chased her all night. He'd fought for her. Men had died, and a university had been bombed, for the sake of saving her. And, just a few moments ago, Locke nearly died for her. And if she keeps acting crazy I'll knock her out and a drag her back to Coruscant, trust be damned. Locke would certainly not be chasing her anymore this night; he'd rather eat his boots, or the bloodstained ruins of his shirt.
But thankfully, it seemed that wouldn't be necessary. Locke's brain felt something shift within the girl, and as he looked at her pale face, he hoped against hope that he'd broken through to her. He hoped that for once, Blanche would trust someone, rather than fear them. I hope I can get off of this damn planet sometime tonight. That would be nice too.
Time seemed to slow near to a halt as Blanche's expression shifted and Locke's hopes soared. Then she said it.
"Okay."
Locke nearly cried. She said it again, and again, as if working to convince herself that she could do it, that she could trust up. Locke smiled one of the first genuine smiles he'd smiled all night, and silently praised whatever gods might listen that his ordeal was coming to a close. "That's right Blanche," he said softly, warmly, "everything is going to be alright."
Maybe he should've kept his mouth shut, though, because not two heartbeats after he said that, the Force yelled a warning at him, but it was too late. Heat washed over Locke when the rocket slammed into the bridge, and he moved back, shielding his face with his hands and arms. Locke didn't need the twisting of the concrete beneath his feet to tell him that a hole had been blown into the bridge. He didn't need to hear the guards' surprised yelling to know that something had gone horribly, horribly wrong. Nor did he need to hear Blanche's scream to know that he had to go after her.
Locke moved quickly, and pulled both of his weapons to him with the Force. He tossed them to the nearest guard, who stared at him wide eyed. "I'll flay you if you lose them," he said as his hand went to hover over his chest . A soft glow appeared as he used what little knowledge he had of healing to ease some of the pain and stop the bleeding that came from the two gashes across his chest. The rest could be deal with later; he already knew the cuts would scar, and as long as they weren't spilling his blood all over the place, he didn't care.
"Jazen, with me," Locke called as he sprinted to the edge of the bridge and jumped, wasting little time to go after Blanche. He fell down towards the raging river, and a thin shield of the Force, just wide enough to cover his profile, came into being in front of his hand. It took the brunt of the impact into the water, rather than him. Even so, Locke's breath went out in a hiss when the river closed its icy maw around him.
Terror shot through the air, and Locke only needed to look around for a minute to spot Blanche struggling against the river's mighty pushing. Locke thanked the Force he was a strong swimmer and moved, pushing himself to get to the Arkanian before it was too late.
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Cirith An'Gol
"You got something for me? or are you just another slack jawed arruetti admiring my armor"-Cirith
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last online May 31, 2020 19:14:38 GMT -5
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May 18, 2010 0:06:42 GMT -5
Post by Cirith An'Gol on May 18, 2010 0:06:42 GMT -5
Wisely the guard backed down, whether it was from the malice in Arwyn's voice or the promising glare of pain in her green eyes, or both, who could tell, because at the moment she had returned her attention back to the ever dramatized scene that Blanche had created, she'd been stumbling backwards from the impact of an explosive on the bridge. Arwyn saw her bounty fall from the bridge and into the water below, followed shortly by Locke. She had to admit to feeling pleasure at the sight of Blanche falling into the undoubtedly cold water below, but, such pleasure was pushed aside for the moment, as a new target had presented itself.
Not wasting a moment Arwyn donned her black and maroon helmet and drew her E-11 Blaster Rifle. She looked to where the trail of smoke led only to see a black blur jump from a ledge thirty feet up and land with amazing balance on the rail of the now twisted and ruined bridge.
Arwyn unleashed a set of particularly graphic Mandalorian words before slamming her armored fist into the rail in frustration, denting it considerably and making it bow sharply where her fist impacted, due to not only her natural strength but the strength enhancing implant in her arm. "I dunno who you are sister but, you picked the wrong time to piss me the fierfek off!" Arwyn said standing fully upright and leveling her E-11 blaster rifle at her new opponent.
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Jazen
Beelzaboot
1,617 posts
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Rocking from the Great White North
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last online Apr 20, 2022 19:46:47 GMT -5
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May 18, 2010 21:15:50 GMT -5
Post by Jazen on May 18, 2010 21:15:50 GMT -5
In the silence that followed Locke's insane attempt to show Blanche that they were her allies, Jazen spread out his connection in the Force to touch the people around him as well as Blanche. Crazy as this idea was, it could work and if it did, Jazen didn't need someone else barging in to mess everything up all over again. He felt fear, confusion, even amusement from the nearest circle of observers, but nothing that would suggest they were about to jump in and make a run for Blanche. He still wasn't content that they were out of the woods yet, so he kept some of his attention on the crowd. The rest of it was focused sorely on Blanche and what she was now thinking.
To Jazen's delight, he felt disbelief, followed by a slow acceptance of what was happening. And that acceptance started to grow. What started out as a small flame, one that could be snuffed out in an instant, suddenly started to burn more brightly. It didn't stop there either. As if matching the growing flame of safety that resided within her, Blanche was muttering the word okay over and over again, each time saying it louder. Each time the word escaped her lips, the flame grew until it was a raging fire. She was coming around! Jazen felt relief swarm his tired body, finally glad that this mission appeared to be coming to an end. Jazen relaxed his stance as Blanche slowly started to move towards Locke, offering to him the weapons he had risked to give to her.
That's when Jazen felt danger. His bubble of the Force, the one he'd been using to read the people around him, had been burst by someone. Someone with the intent to cause harm. It was faint, putting it somewhere near the very edge of his Force bubble. But it was there. Jazen's eyes darted in every direction, trying to find its source before it could disrupt all their hard work in getting Blanche to trust them. It wasn't anywhere on the ground around him....nor was it below. That left....UP! Jazen's head snapped to look towards the bridge sky just in time to see something come streaking towards Locke and Blanche. It was too late for him to stop whatever it was, so Jazen did the next best thing. He changed its trajectory a little, so that it would not hit either Blanche or Locke directly.
That didn't solve the problem as well as he expected though. The incoming object turned out to be an explosive and when it connected with the bridge, it exploded. From the distance he was, Jazen was knocked flat on his back, but he recovered quickly by rolling when he landed. Snapping his head up, he quickly spied his master, struggling to get back to his own feet. A womanly scream, barely heard over the mass screaming and panic from behind him, turned Jazen's head towards the now gaping hole in the bridge exactly where Blanche had been. Not wasting a second, Jazen dashed to the side of the bridge and looked down, spying a small figure trying to keep her head above the raging river below. Movement behind him, along with the sound of his name being said made him turn, just in time to see Locke go diving headfirst over the railing into the water below.
Jazen didn't follow him though, deciding to take another route. Running to one end of the bridge, Jazen flung himself over the edge, grabbing a travelers robe as he did. As he cleared the bridge, he used the Force to send the robe wrapping around one of the bridge's supports, tying it tightly. Gripping the robe as hard as he could, he swung down, then unwrapped it with the Force. Two more quick repetitions of that and he was standing on the riverside, rushing after his Master and Blanche. Calling on the Force to strengthen his already exhausted body, he reached out with the Force to find both of them amongst the speeding water. Blanche wasn't hard, a beacon of pure terror just ahead of him. Concern and desperation alerted him to where his Master was, noticing that he was keeping pace with Jazen, albeit swimming. Locking onto Blanche, Jazen concentrated on her, his left hand pointed palm up towards her. Carefully, he tried to slow her against the rushing water, even though it was probably futile. If he could just get her close enough that Locke could grab her. Wrapping the robe tightly around his right hand, Jazen continued to keep pace, ready to fling the robe to them to reel them in as soon as he could.
"Master, I'm right here, on your left. As soon as you got her, I''ll throw you a line. Don't miss it, cause I've only got one shot."[/i]
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Kella
Fire and Blood
4,089 posts
5 likes
Fire cannot kill a dragon.
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last online Oct 30, 2014 9:41:46 GMT -5
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May 20, 2010 1:13:41 GMT -5
Post by Kella on May 20, 2010 1:13:41 GMT -5
Cold, rush, pounding, wet--
There were no conscious thoughts. Fragments. Flashes. Instincts. There is no preparing a mind for that moment of sheerest death.
The thrashing waves pounded against Blanche; fiery Arkanian rendered fragil by the relentless water. It sucked her down, an unarguable force, pulling her deep beneath the surface to where the blunt boulders of the riverbed pounded against her, sharp impacts diffused to an whole-body throbbing by the numb cold.
Then the water pushed her up again, where the touch of the air tempted her fingers, but even as her basest instincts pulled her upwards, her head could not break the surface...
But her lungs burned, oh how they burned! Like a thousand fires inside of her, the clawing of some savage beast, a pain deeper, stronger than the worst of hungers...
Just as hunger of the body renders anything food, hunger of the lung renders anything air, and Blanche gasped a breath of water, anything, anything to ease the pain...
But then the numbness was inside of her. The fire began to fade, as the cold... cold throb of the waves enveloped her... and slowly... her thrashings fell into stillness...
//____________|____________\\
"Sister?" the voice mused, almost disembodied by the mystery of its owner. It sounded amused, thoughtful, unconcerned. No clue could be gleaned from the rasping, husky tone -- other than it was distinctly not human.
Now suited, the woman leveled her blaster rifle at the figure. The mind beneath the hood wasn't stupid. One doesn't join the mercenary business if one can be frightened by something as simple as that.
"I wasn't aware that I had to run my business against your schedule," it said, with a distinct sneer in its tone. "Now, I have an acquisition to complete."
With that, the figure raised once more the rocket launcher, squaring Arwyn evenly in the sights. From this rage, even a close hit would be more than lethal...
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Rugs
The ring-dang-doo, now what is that?
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May 22, 2010 19:45:56 GMT -5
Post by Rugs on May 22, 2010 19:45:56 GMT -5
Locke Nemsee did not, as a Jedi, receive pay for his work. Oh, sure, he'd occasionally receive some sort of gift from a client in thanks, but as a rule of thumb, austere monk-like orders didn't pay. Or if they did, they paid poorly. Now, normally, Locke didn't mind this. He loved his work and had become an Investigator to prevent the things that happened to his family from happening to others. The Knight gladly would--and often did--do what he did for free. However, there were some times where he found himself wishing that the Council would rethink their 'work for free' policy.
Now happened to be one of those times.
The water was cold. His muscles screamed at him with every movement, protesting that he'd pushed himself too far and that now was the time for rest. Oh, how he so wanted to agree. But he could not. Not when the life he'd worked so hard all night long to save was finally within grasp, and in desperate need of his help. And so, with the steely resolve that'd seen him through so many cases in the past set firmly in place, he called upon the Force, using it to bolster himself as the last reserves of his strength started to fail.
Even so, the work was difficult. If he'd thought that Kzat, with his strength and skill, had been a difficult foe, the river was an entirely different demon altogether. It raged at him, battering his weary body as he desperately pushed to get to Blanche. Locke thanked the Force that his training left him both physically fit and a strong swimmer, else he might not have been able to save her.
Still, he fought on, refusing to bow to the river's wrath. Locke pushed as hard and fast as he could through the rough waters, but the going was slow. The river was wide and its current strong. There was also the issue of being dangerously near the river's mouth, where, unknown to him and perhaps Blanche, the riverbed dropped off precipitously after a short slope down, joining with the ocean floor hundreds of feet below. The currents were stronger there, and anyone caught in them--let alone a bone-weary Jedi and a girl who couldn't swim--would surely persih.
Hope runs deep though, and against the wishes of the river, against the dreams of the Hutt, against the demands of fate, Locke triumphed. Well, after a few tries. The first time he reached out to grab Blanche he just missed, and the current pulled her along as if nothing happened. A wave took her under for a few brief moments the second time. He just used the Force the third time, though; he'd probably shoot himself if that didn't work from two feet away. But it did, and with an arm wrapped firmly around Blanche, Locke started to make his way back toward the shore. Toward Jazen.
Swimming with the burden of another was considerably harder than just swimming out by himself had been, but Locke made it. Now everything would come down to this one moment. This one final action by his student. Locke would make a hat out of Jazen's skin if he screwed it up. Well, no he wouldn't yes he would. "Jazen," Locke yelled, "throw it out!"
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Cirith An'Gol
"You got something for me? or are you just another slack jawed arruetti admiring my armor"-Cirith
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last online May 31, 2020 19:14:38 GMT -5
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May 26, 2010 20:10:43 GMT -5
Post by Cirith An'Gol on May 26, 2010 20:10:43 GMT -5
Arwyn smirked beneath her helmet as the mystery Merc raised her beloved Rocket Launcher. If she thinks she's gonna hit me with a rocket she's got another thing coming Arwyn thought as a plan was set firmly in her mind. She activated her jetpack and pushed off the ground at the same time. The effect was Arwyn rocketing off the ground like a maroon and gold bullet and slamming into her foe's stomach.
Arwyn carried her captive off the bridge and slammed her, hard, into the outer wall of the spaceport, before letting go and making for the roof before her fuel ran out. Arwyn didn't care if the woman fell and hit the water below or was fortunate enough to make her way up to the roof where she was. Either way, the woman would be in pain and that suited Arwyn just fine. She was in the mood to hurt something now and this unfortunate person was going to get the brunt of it all. Arwyn stood on the edge of the roof, arms crossed in satisfaction, waiting for either a splash from below or a hand to appear on the edge of the roof.
She secretly hoped that her new foe was more of a challenge than that.
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Jazen
Beelzaboot
1,617 posts
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Rocking from the Great White North
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last online Apr 20, 2022 19:46:47 GMT -5
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May 27, 2010 19:17:37 GMT -5
Post by Jazen on May 27, 2010 19:17:37 GMT -5
Jazen watched in complete silence as Locke struggled with the waters around him to reach Blanche. Several times during the attempt, Jazen's heart skipped a beat in response to either Blanche or Locke going under the water. But they came back each time, gasping for air and in Locke's case, pushing towards his goal. But Jazen could sense his master's body tiring, along with Blanche's. If he didn't hurry, they would both be swept over the approaching falls into the ocean. Of course, that was only after about several hundred meters of empty space. Jazen knew his master was tough but there was no way he would survive that kind of a spill. As Locke struggled onward, Jazen tried to help his master in different ways while he waited. He tried to slow the waters around Locke with the Force, only to find the constantly moving mass far beyond his current abilities. Although he wasn't as strong as his master at his telekinetic skills, he knew he could put all his effort and remaining strength into pulling them from the water.
The falls approached rapidly, Jazen himself only standing a few meters away from them For a brief moment, he was afraid Locke wouldn't make it. But he felt his Master's relief at the same moment he saw him grab Blanche, his own body relaxing for a moment in its own relief. But the threat of the falls still loomed and although Locke was pushing with all his might to reach safety, he simply didn't have enough time. Jazen heard him call out to him and in Jazen's mind, time slowed. The robe, while long enough to fit the large person he had borrowed it from, it lacked sufficient length to reach Locke unless he got closer. Even if he extended it as far as it could go, he would just be out of reach. He needed to close the distance, if only by a little. And he knew a way....but it was risky and he would only get one shot.
First he needed to extend the length of the robe. Jazen looked around for anything he could use to make the robe longer. Anything at all. He shivered for a moment, the cold wind coming from the water doing nothing to help this situation. That was it!! His clothes! Quickly, Jazen swung off his upper robe and dipped it into the river. Soaking wet now, Jazen spun his robe into a fine thin line, making it as long as it could be. He wrapped the two together, making sure they were tight enough that the added weight wouldn't slip them apart. Summoning his saber to life, Jazen spun and faced the railing that lined the river. Cutting the beam that held the rail to the ground, Jazen grabbed hold of the end, using the Force to wrap it around his waist. One shot was all the had time for. He would have to make it count. Wrapping the end of the robe around his hand, Jazen called on what little Force he could muster to guide its direction as he snapped it out towards Locke. For a second, he thought he had failed. Then then rail slammed hard into his waist and he almost leaned over the edge from the added weight. The railing held though and Jazen grabbed the robe with his other hand. Slowly but surely, he started to pull his master in. The sound of metal straining made him look at the railing and noticed it was starting to buckle. He started pulling faster.
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Kella
Fire and Blood
4,089 posts
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Fire cannot kill a dragon.
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last online Oct 30, 2014 9:41:46 GMT -5
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Jun 8, 2010 14:38:10 GMT -5
Post by Kella on Jun 8, 2010 14:38:10 GMT -5
A low hssssssssssssssssssssssss escaped from beneath the black hood, as the body slammed against the wall. Perhaps a human would have been unable to breath. Perhaps a human would have shattered a bone. Perhaps a human would have lacked the strength to scale the wall... Perhaps a human would have had to rely on mechanical instruments to make up for their weaknesses. But the cloaked figure was not a human. Somewhere from beneath the black shadow, hands worked, gripped. Maybe they were fingered, maybe they were not -- the darkness told no secrets. The mercenary dropped a few feet -- a controlled maneuver as the tug of hidden muscles pulled the body around, chest flush to the wall. Gripping the outer wall of the spaceport, finding every nook and cranny, the figure began to climb. However, even lacking the experience of years, this mercenary was not so stupid as to be predictable. Climbing at a diagonal, quick and nimble as an insect, the living shadow soon came to the lip of the roof, fifteen meters to the left of the human female, who stood looking down over the ledge. It might have been wiser to leave the human, and fetch the target -- but though the mercenary had instincts, it did not have wisdom. The human represented competition, and competition must be eliminated for victory... and, chances were, if one had armor like that, one had a bounty. Even if it only bought the mercenary a few celebratory drinks, it was worth the trouble. The figure sprinted forward, almost silent. It no longer held the rocket launcher, having dropped it when connected with the solid wall, but only a fool would have only one weapon. Like a star on the ink of night, light flashed -- the glint of a dagger blade. With inhuman speed, the blade bore down as the two figures drew close, honing in towards a seam in Arwyn's armor, just behind her left shoulder... //_________________|__________________\\ Something cut through the ice. A sharp heat. It suddenly pulled all matter into focus, whereas moments before, the lines between water and reality had been blurred... everything was water, cold water... But not anymore. Now there was heat, and something solid against something solid. Deep in Blanche's inner ear, her body told her mind that it was moving. But the mind was drifting, fleeting, it didn't want to listen... The mind didn't want to hear that the solid thing was an arm, and that the heat was from another body, close, touching. The mind didn't want to hear that the movement was out of the swift pressure of the water. The mind didn't want to feel the grit of sand on Blanche's palms, or the sharp stab of rocks in her back as Blanche was hauled onto the riverbank. Her mind didn't want to hear it... But her body echoed with it. Her body was trapped by her mind. Or her mind had slipped from her body. The stillness of her lungs blurred the solidarity of her mind -- her will had escaped over the boundary, and drifted into the ethereal... Blanche lay still on the riverbank, as limp and pale as her wet, white hair. She did not breathe.
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Rugs
The ring-dang-doo, now what is that?
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Jun 8, 2010 21:42:52 GMT -5
Post by Rugs on Jun 8, 2010 21:42:52 GMT -5
Jazen lucked out: his throw was accurate, and Locke caught the edge of the cloak, which meant that his student's skin was safe from being turned into a hat. For the time being, anyway. The lone arm that Locke had free to grab onto the piece of cloth protested loudly when the force of the river's current (which was stronger out here, near the point where the ocean and river merged) slammed into his battered torso, wishing for nothing more than to carry him out and away to the sea. Stubbornness filled Locke, though, as he'd came far too far to have everything end in failure.
And so, against the might of the river, and the stacking of the odds, Jazen and Locke persevered. Most of the work came from Jazen's end, in the form of maneuvering them to the riverbank. There was a time where the groan of tortured metal rang out; Locke looked up to see the railing that Jazen had attached himself to bending. Well that wasn't good. That sound apparently lit a fire under Jazen, as the young man suddenly started to pull harder, speeding Blanche and Locke along their way.
A few too-exciting moments later found Locke on the river bank with Blanche under his arm. His breaths came hard and ragged. He was soaked to the bone, and his clothing clung wetly to his lean form as he staggered away from the water's edge. "It's finally over Blanche. You're safe now." Good thing too, because he really wanted nothing more than to find some place to lie down and pass out. Just a little while longer...
"Blanche?" Locke's brow furrowed as he looked down. Something was wrong. A Blanche's face was pale, and didn't respond much when he moved he-
"No. No no no no no." Worry filled Locke when the realization of what was going on dawned on him. Had he been too late? Surely he hadn't... Right? She wasn't breathing, though. "Not now. Not after everything that's happened. Blanche!" He took her shoulders in his hand and shook her, but she didn't respond. He called her name, poked her, prodded her, did anything he could think of to get some kind of reaction for the girl, but nothing worked. "No, no no. Please, no." Locke's voice grew weak as the hope he'd felt started to, once again, fade away. All of that work. All of the running around and chasing. The beatings, the pain. All of it would be for nothing if this girl slipped away into the next life. What could he do, though? He wasn't a healer. How could he possibly save her?
Wait. There was a way... A way that sent color running into Locke's cheeks. He knew how to do mouth-to-mouth. It wasn't something he'd ever really had to do often, but he could do it. But the thought of doing it to Blanche... Well, she was pretty enough, in her own way, he supposed. Wait, wait, wait, no. Someone at the Temple would have a stroke if they knew I was thinking like that. And they'd be some damn hypocrites too, but... Locke was wasting time when he didn't have time to waste. With a quick glance spared back to Jazen, he adjusted himself to do what needed to be done.
He leaned in and titled Blanche's head back. Then he pinched her nose with his fingers and, as his olive skin turned the brightest shade of red it'd been in a very long time, put his mouth to hers and exhaled, giving his breath to her, and willed with everything that he had for her to live.
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Cirith An'Gol
"You got something for me? or are you just another slack jawed arruetti admiring my armor"-Cirith
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last online May 31, 2020 19:14:38 GMT -5
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Jun 18, 2010 21:06:35 GMT -5
Post by Cirith An'Gol on Jun 18, 2010 21:06:35 GMT -5
Oblivious to the drama playing out below on the shore of the river, Arwyn waited for her mystery opponent to surface on the roof of a building that was attached to the rubble strewn bridge to her immediate left. Arwyn looked down over the edge one more time and tapped her foot impatiently, her arms crossed over her chest. Something felt wrong, she knew that her opponent hadn't hit the water, there was no splash, nothing to indicate that a body had hit the surface, and the assailant wasn't attached to the wall below her. Arwyn looked up a second later, realizing that her competition had indeed scaled the walls but had shifted position.
She looked to her left but, there was nothing there. Then a movement caught her eye and she saw a shadow over lap hers.
Arwyn glanced to her right just as her competition came upon her with a knife aimed for her left shoulder. There was no time to move and her opponent was too close to get her arms raised in a defensive posture. So she did the next best thing and hoped the knife wasn't harder than Beskar.
She shifted her stance so that the center of her gravity was more grounded, rolled her shoulder up and back to close the seam in her armor, and waited for the inevitable impact of the blade before pushing the weapon out into the open, and continued to turn to her opponent before following through with a right handed punch to the jaw.
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Jazen
Beelzaboot
1,617 posts
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Rocking from the Great White North
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last online Apr 20, 2022 19:46:47 GMT -5
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Jun 19, 2010 21:54:48 GMT -5
Post by Jazen on Jun 19, 2010 21:54:48 GMT -5
Jazen sighed in massive relief as he saw his Master heave himself and Blanche onto shore. And not a moment too soon. The raging water had done its number on the clothing he had been using as a rope and by the time they had made it to safety, the makeshift rope had almost broke; it was held together by only a few very stubborn strands. The railing Jazen had been using to brace himself with had almost been at its limit, the metal bent enough that it could have dropped Jazen into the drink had he not been careful. As Locke coughed up water and struggled to shake the exhaustion off him, Jazen collapsed to the ground, laying flat on his back as his body screamed for a chance to rest. Maybe now it would get it.
Sadly, something decided that their day wasn't finished. Jazen went his Master's terror through the Force, with words to back up his feelings coming soon after. Jazen shot up faster than he thought his weary body could manage and turned his eyes on his Master, who was shaking Blanche while calling her name. Jazen rose an eyebrow, unsure of why his Master was shaking the woman who they'd put all their effort into saving. And then he felt it. Blanche's presence in the Force fading. Alarm surged from Jazen and he struggled to his feet, stumbling over to the both of them, unsure of what to do. Had Blanche taken on too much water while she was struggling with the current, filling her lungs with weighted water instead of the life giving oxygen they required.
Jazen felt his hope die within in, the feeling of failure slowly growing. Had they come this far, through countless hunters and near death experiences, just to fall against the ruthless touch of nature? He wanted with all his being to have an answer to this but none came to him. One came to Locke though. Jazen watched Locke's face turn crimson, then widened his eyes in surprise as Locke put his mouth to Blanche's. Jazen knew what he was trying to do, but the suddenness of it caught him by surprise. And for some reason, made Jazen turn crimson himself. Ignoring this feeling, Jazen prayed to the Force that Blanche took the breath of life Locke was offering her. He could have run for help, but he knew that by the time he found someone, she would be gone for good. Her only chance at survival lay with Locke. Not bad odds, in his opinion.
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Kella
Fire and Blood
4,089 posts
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Fire cannot kill a dragon.
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last online Oct 30, 2014 9:41:46 GMT -5
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Jun 20, 2010 13:11:58 GMT -5
Post by Kella on Jun 20, 2010 13:11:58 GMT -5
The right-hook connected. The figure reeled, stumbling backwards as its hood fell around his shoulders. The wide yellow eyes captured and reflected the moonlight, odd phantoms in the darkness. A few strands of moonlight glinted off a purple carapace, revealing the insectoid face. Its jaw looked oddly unhinged. The creature raised a hand and snapped its jaw back into place, grinning wickedly, baring pointed yellow teeth. It was a Shadowman. Creature of the night-planet Nivek, the species had no proper name in basic, other than that word of nightmares. Shadowman. Darkness was its abode and faithful friend, its power lay in the shadows. Here, all was drenched in shadow. The Shadowman darted around the human, moving quickly, silently. First on one side, then on the other. Rocket launcher and knife, both had been taken from the Shadowman, but he had more up his sleeve... Quite literally. The Shadowman appreciated a good cliché. From beneath the black shadow emerged the muzzle of a sonic blaster. It would not kill, but it would overwhelm, daze, incapacitate. The Shadowman centered the blaster on Arwyn’s chest, and pulled the trigger. Only a yard away. How could the shadow miss? //_________________|__________________\\ An invisible savior forced Blanche's lungs to fill again. As air returned to her body, so did Blanche's spirit. The two parts came together, were reengaged, and the conscious met the physical once more. It was a violent meeting. Blanche's body was suddenly wracked by a violent convulsion, curling into a half-way fetal position that rolled her onto her side. Her diaphragm wretched, and water came gushing from her mouth. Another violent wretch, another out-pour. Subconsciously, Blanche's hand had reached out to grasp the thing that was touching her, the thing that meant life, meant warmth -- the arm of the Jedi she now faced, though he was above and she below. She grasped his forearm tightly, desperately as she clung to her own life. Blanche drew in a ragged breath, this time under her own power. Her lungs seemed to be clear, but they were not calmed. She shoved herself onto hand-and-knees as the coughing overcame her. It was a harsh, miserable sound, coming from the girl. But it meant life. And somewhere deep within her, Blanche knew that life was good. But then terror seized her still-muddled mind. If she was alive then they were coming for her, and if she was alive then she was not safe! Her eyes drew quickly into focus, darting around like a frightened animal. She was a frightened animal. Her body stiffened at the threat, the man looming over her-- No. Not a threat. The Jedi. Relief was a foreign, rare emotion for Blanche, but it washed through her now, softening her frozen muscles. For a half a moment, she simply locked gazes with the Jedi, her eyes brimming with that relief. She was cold and she was shivering and she was wet, but the Jedi was wet with the same river, and that meant he had saved her -- twice -- and that meant that while she was here, with the Jedi, she was safe. Her breath was still ragged, and her voice did not come, but she threw her arms around the Jedi’s neck, clinging to him. He was warmer than the air around her, though she still shivered. He had saved her, he would save her, she was safe. No one had ever done that for her bef-- No one had ever done that for her before. And that was just it, wasn’t it? No one had and no one was. The same thing that made her valuable to the Hutt made her valuable to the Jedi. It wasn’t her, it was what was in her head. Information. Incriminating evidence. That’s all she was to the Jedi, the evidence to close a case. Nothing more. She’d come to terms with this. Cooperating with the Republic meant taking down the Hutt, making him suffer in more agonizing ways than Blanche could ever hope to achieve. But that also meant she was just a witness. And to the Jedi, she was probably less. Just an assignment. Blanche’s mood crashed down around her, falling fragments of an indulgent dream. She fell away from the Jedi, wrapped her arms around herself to abate the shivering. Numb. The Jedi had been doing his job. She was alive. For that, he deserved some gratitude. “T-t-t-th-ank y-you,” she choked, teeth chattering. For the first time, she registered the Jedi’s younger companion, and his apparent role. She added, “B-both of you.” The soaked woman who was more of a girl looked small and pitiful as she hung her head in shame. Not shame at having caused trouble -- that was justified. Hutts were always trouble -- the Republic had known that when they’d accepted her as an official witness. Her shame lay in thinking, for a moment, that she was worth anything more than the information in her head.
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Rugs
The ring-dang-doo, now what is that?
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Jun 21, 2010 11:10:05 GMT -5
Post by Rugs on Jun 21, 2010 11:10:05 GMT -5
"Come on, Blanche, please."
Locke's voice was strained with emotion as he worked, desperately pumping Blanche's ribcage in the hopes of kickstarting her lungs back to life. Nothing.
"Dammit, Blanche, don't go out. Not now. Not after all you've been through."
What could only be a tear started to form at the corner of one of the Investigator's eyes. In it, was the feeling of uselessness, of frustration at being so incredibly near to completing the task he'd been sent to do, only to have it snatched away at the very end. There was more though. On a more personal level, Locke felt that, if Blanche died, he'd be breaking an oath; one he'd made four years ago when he'd joined the corps of Investigators at the Temple.
He'd sworn to protect those who couldn't protect themselves from those who might prey on them, after he discovered the fate of his parents during his Trial of Spirit. He'd sworn to do everything he could to save the people that the criminals of the galaxy made a living off of. Blanche was only in this position because of the evils of the Hutt, and then men that went after her, seeking the slug's reward. She was only here because he'd already failed too many times tonight. People were dead, and a school in ruins, all because he hadn't been able to get this girl to safety before those dark hands got to her. And now, if she died, he'd do more than just fail the mission, more than just fail to get the information that was hidden away within her mind.
He'd fail her.
And if he failed her, her name would be added to a list of names within his head; a list that was made up of all of the people he'd let down in his time as a Knight. The list was relatively short, and he prided himself on that, but it hurt him to know that, inevitable though failure might be, he'd failed a number of people. But if Blanche's name went on that list, after everything he'd gone through to rescue her...
As he went down, preparing to breathe into her once again, she suddenly tensed. A fit of coughing took her, shaking her small form violently. She looked pitiful, laying there on the ground. Despite that, as he felt her grip on his forearm tighten, Locke couldn't stop the smile that began to spread across his face. She was alive. Oh, by the Force, there was hope!
Blanche wrapped her arms around Locke's neck for a moment, but then she fell away, back to shivering on the riverbed. Safe though she might have been, Locke knew that they weren't quite out of the woods yet. She was cold and wet. He was cold and wet, but he could deal with it better than she might be able to. Now they needed to get to some warm place, where they could dry off and get some much-needed re--
A feeling in the Force broke Locke's train of thought. He looked down at her as she stammered out her thanks, and nodded at it. There was something more, though. Something was gnawing at Blanche, that much he could tell. He could feel it, settling down over her like some dark cloak. He couldn't say what it was for certain. Regret maybe? But what would she be regretting? He shook his head. Now wasn't the time to try to figure it out.
Locke took Blanche up in his arms, holding her near to him to give her some source of warmth. The thought crossed his mind that she might react poorly to it, but he didn't care. If she still had enough fire in her to fight over being carried, she could bloody well walk until they got inside. "Come on Jazen," he called, with a look back toward his student. "We're done down here."
His gaze hung on the young man for a moment, and then silently, through the force, he spoke. "You did good today, kid. I'm proud of you."
With that, he turned and set off, back up the river bank in the direction they'd come from. There was an entrance to a tunnel there, under the bridge, that led back in to the space port. Once they got back in they could go to the medical ward and get taken care of. And then, maybe this long night would finally come to an end.
"You know, Blanche," Locke said after a few moments of silence, "you don't have to thank me." He didn't know what was bothering her, but it was still there, eating away. "After all, that makes us even after you killed our big lizard friend, right? You saved my life when you did that." Locke smiled wryly and snorted a soft laugh. "Besides, it's my duty to protect you, beyond just what the mission calls for. I'm a protector of the people of the Republic; a protector for those who cannot protect themselves. That's what it is to be a Jedi." He spoke loudly enough for Jazen to hear, making it obvious that the talk was for more than just Blanche. "I've worked so hard tonight to get to you not just because the mission called for it, but because you're a person just like the rest of us."
A sigh turned into a shiver when a gust of wind blew in from the ocean, pressing Locke's cold clothes against him. He didn't really know why he was saying what he was saying. Surely it didn't relate to whatever was bothering Blanche, right? Perhaps there was some inner guilt buried deep within his own mind that he was trying to assuage. Or maybe it was the Force's will. He couldn't say for sure, but now that he'd started, he wasn't going to stop. "Look, I... I don't even know why I'm saying this, truthfully. But you're safe now, Blanche. You're safe, and I'll stop anyone that tries to take that safety away from you. You have my word on that."
It was with that that Locke turned into the tunnel, walking back up the ramp that would ultimately lead them to their destination. And as he went on, thinking that they were finally in the clear, he felt his thoughts turn back to that bounty hunter. Arwyn. What ever happened to her, anyway? The last he'd seen, she was back up on the bridge, when the explosion threw Blanche down into the river...
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Cirith An'Gol
"You got something for me? or are you just another slack jawed arruetti admiring my armor"-Cirith
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last online May 31, 2020 19:14:38 GMT -5
Knight
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Jun 22, 2010 17:16:31 GMT -5
Post by Cirith An'Gol on Jun 22, 2010 17:16:31 GMT -5
Arwyn felt her punch connect and heard the disgusting crack as the force of it unhinged the creatures jaw and knocked the hood it was wearing off, revealing devilishly yellow eyes and an insectoid face. "A Shadowman?! You've gotta be kidding me" the Bounty Hunter said more to herself than he newly revealed foe. She'd heard of them ofcourse but, they were mixed in with nightmarish tales that came from The Expansionist Regions that she'd taken as exaggerated rumors meant to scare children.
Arwyn saw the glint of a weapon as the Shadowman glided into the shadows. Arwyn threw herself to the side not knowing if she'd successfully dodge the shot, and pulled her E-11 Blaster Rifle up and fired at where she guessed the Shadowman was. Years of handling the weapon in her hand made her fast in drawing and firing but, only Manda knew if she was fast enough to hit anything while trying to avoid whatever projectile was being fired at her.
Arwyn hit the ground and immediately began to get back up, as she'd been trained to do since she was a little girl. "I'll give ya this bug eye. You're full of suprises" Arwyn said as she switched her HUD's vision over to a low light environment with a quick movement from her eye as she once again raised the Blaster Rifle. She focused her vision through the scope of the E-11 in her hand and looked for another shot.
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