Angels (dire)

[Talau the Ever-Lurking]

He watched as the last of the others going with Ocelot scurried aboard the October, the engines rumbling to life in preparation for take off even as he turned his eyes back toward the wave of Hutt minions that ran toward him.

The hot desert wind made his coat flutter around his legs, and he closed his eyes for a moment, allowing the hot breeze to caress his face…to remind him. It reminded him of Rilia, of the pain and suffering he’d caused there…it reminded him not to make the same mistakes again. Slowly he opened his eyes, the brilliant blue of them darker than normal, edging with encroaching red. Even as that first volley of blaster rounds hurtled toward him, the man didn’t move until the last moment.

Not visibly.

Inwardly quite a bit was happening, there was much movement. The calm ocean waves of the force met with the molten lava of his righteous anger and created a churning and powerful mixture of scalding hot power that flowed through the man’s veins and thus rippled outward from him. These Hutt minions wouldn’t harm those on the ship, or those moving past it!

By the time those bolts reached him it was too late…the Valor and Battlemind that had helped him for years had already swept their power through his body. A twitch of muscle and his hand was up before him, a shimmering blue appearing as those harmful bolts rebounded back at their owners. Another flicker of barely visible motion and both hands were out, blasters springing from their holsters to his hands as, in a blur of red-brown material, Remiel sprang away.

Point, aim, and move were words that could only vaguely describe what the blond force user was doing at the moment. For years almost as far back as he could remember, the former jedi knew he had a gift with movement. He didn’t just move, he flowed, swept, spun, if there was a word you could use to describe movement, that word was in Rem’s vocabulary with added finesse and flourish that could make that word inadequate. Hours…entire days…of his life had been spent in the Art of Movement course at the temple for the sheer enjoyment of moving, the challenge he provided himself as he sought new ways of moving through it, to build up stamina and strength. Even as a padawan he’d been teaching other padawans how to move through the course more easily…movement was his gift and his talent...and it SHOWED.

The odd thing about Remiel, however, wasn’t necessarily his gifts in movement, nor his gift in the protective areas of the force…no…to the jedi that was far more normal and acceptable than his other talent. Use of ranged weapons…specifically blaster pistols and slug throwing pistols. While, yes, he had to aim like every other being in the galaxy, Remiel found this a simple matter…his first dealing with one of the weapons as a small child ending in the death of a dark jedi. It was, at that time of course, an accident…a reaction caused by the pre-youngling’s anger at seeing one of his new jedi friends being struck down…but it was a true enough shot to get the job done and stun the other jedi with him. His accuracy only got better as he got older.

Now, in the face of these goons who were (rather foolishly) about to attempt to harm his companions, Remiel held little back…and again, it showed. There was someone on that ship he NEEDED to protect and he’d be damned if she were injured because of one of these pawns. With that drive fueling his emotions and power in the force, the idiots that were about to collide with him didn’t stand a chance and most didn’t know what hit them. The more shots flew around him, the more he had to keep moving to keep from being harmed, the more at ease he was as he allowed his body to twist and contort around the incoming blaster bolts. It didn’t matter to him that the air was being peppered by all colors of blaster fire, or that occasionally his skin would be bitten by a stray bolt he hadn’t seen, Remiel was in his element. His blasters, extensions of his hands unloaded entire clips into his enemies before coming behind him to allow the new clips to be snapped in though his manipulation of the force, and then he was moving again with elbows, knees, feet, any body part of his that could do damage to those around him wreaking havoc to stun or worse as he flipped and twisted about. It was a challenge like he’d not had in a long time, and…for a few moments…he felt peace again. It was a peace he’d not felt since he’d left the temple a year ago on that final mission.

That peace ended as he felt something far too familiar join the fray….then the sound of weapons fire behind him…

Lanara.

In an instant his protection had come back up around himself, as he paused to look back toward the October. Bloody woman was supposed to be safe and aboard the ship! Yellow threaded into those blue, red and golden eyes as he watched the edges of the cluster of men he’d gathered about him start toward her. In a fraction of a second those barriers were down again and he moved in an entirely different fashion. The golden glow that formed around him seeming extra bright in the light the twin suns of the planet. Within that light change was happening, fueled by adrenaline, his will, and his fear for her safety. It wouldn’t be visible yet, but beneath that glow bones were shifting, the density of them rearranging into more bones and shifting his facial structure slightly. New angles appeared along his jaw and cheeks, his eyes slanting slightly, becoming more almond shaped, his skin taking on the golden tone of the light that surrounded him as he came to a halt before Lanara…and when that golden glow faded?

Most would have thought ‘Angel.’

His face had become more angled, more closely resembling the angles of a lion’s face. His hair lengthened, it's natural spikiness becoming thick and separated, but laying flat now as it cascaded down his back, coming to a thick point along his back...the golden mass looking much like a lion's mane or the crest of some noble bird. Two tawny colored wings expanded to fill the space around Remiel, appearing from under a long flap in the back of his coat, the long thick feathers shimmering gold with blood red, blue, ebony, and pearly white along the edges and tips of them, making them seem to shift hue as they spread menacingly from the back of the blond rilan. That golden glow faded, being replaced by a deep blue glow that surrounded the man's form, the light swirling with tinges of purple.

It was enough of a shock that the men skidded to a halt, slipping and sliding on the gravel and sand that covered the ground. Slowly those blasters were holstered again and one hand slipped inside his coat, withdrawing a long unused weapon…a weapon he only saw fit to use when he meant business…when lives were on the line. The shocked enemies seemed to recoil for a moment as he glared at them, stretching his wings out as far as possible, making himself appear larger, more intimidating, and causing the feathers to rustle against each other in deadly whispers, warning of eminent danger. His right hand slowly lowered out at an angle to him, his hand wrapped tightly around the weapon within it.

If there was a divine being, and he did have angels, it would be uncertain at this point if the one standing before them was still within that divine’s mercy or if he had, indeed, fallen from grace.

This one and those on that ship are under my protection…leave now and you will live.

This is your only warning.

To emphasize his point, Remiel thumbed that activator and the deep blue of his saber burned to life beside him.

The idiots decided not to heed his warning.

In a blaze of weapons fire the motley grouping of Hutt scum began to organize. That invisible shield was brought up again as those wings folded inward along his back, reflecting the damage of the blaster bolts and preparing for his next movement.

--Lanara…please, kitling, be careful.--

With a growl of anger and frustration at the new situation, Remiel launched forward Luinar trailing beside him until just before he reached the first haphazard line of his enemies, slicing through them as a hot knife would butter.

[Dire Wolf]

Lanara gave a long, heavy sigh as she stepped into her room aboard the Red October, casting her blaster carbine aside like a play toy. It wasn't right. They were mercenaries! What was going on inside that foolish blonde's head! No one aboard the dinky little boat would have done the same for him. 'Cept for you, Lan, the thought crept into her skull, bringing back flashes of Balosar. Axle. She nearly died defending him and his freedom from those bounty hunters.

Oceanic blue eyes drifted closed for a brief second as one hand met with her goggles, pulling the high tech bit of polarized polymer off of the armor. Brief flashes of their earlier conversation in the cargo bay met with her mind's eye, about her being related to the queens of their shared races homeworld. He idn't doin' this ta protect the crew as a whole, is 'e, she blinked at the realization, 'e's doin' it for me.

The inner soldier within Lanara told her to allow the man his sacrifice, that her going down to stand with Remiel as the world came crashing down on him would only make his sacrifice mute. Her sense of honor and duty, however, weighed far more than the logical partition of her mind. In a final defiant (to what, she did not know) move the woman slapped the goggles back onto her helmet, picked up her repeating blaster carbine, and marched to the back of the ship.

She'd be damned to Chaos if she allowed him to die alone.

Synthetic muscles on her suit twitched and flexed as she gazed out at the ramp, which remained open despite the battle that raged outside. Multicolored bolts of light raged about like a maelstrom just beyond the doorway to the star dock, idiot man. Why wouldja stand in front of th' door?[/color][/i] The woman thought, shaking her head as she slowly down the ramp with her blaster held casually in front of her.

The armored huntress looked almost like some warrior from ancient lore, her steps eventually guiding her to the doorway that Rem so vehemently protected. Yeah, she was ruining his sacrifice... but with the hope that his sacrifice wouldn't be one. There was no need for anyone, besides a gaggle of idiotic hutt mercs, to die a glorious death today.

Her breathing grew slow and her body hunched down, casting away the casual stride of her previous stance for one that was more tactical, aware, and battle ready. Light blue eyes laced with bright purple strings grew wide in their sockets and the face that was hidden behind the emotionless face mask grew stony and cold at what she was about to face. In a flash her blaster carbine was up and unloading a trio of bolts into each man.

Tap Tap Tap! Three bolts of ionized light spewed from the barrel of the carbine and slammed into an armored merc, two in the chest and one in the head. His body crumpled to the ground, lifeless and limp. Tap Tap Tap! The pressure of recoil from the carbine as a new trio of angry read plasma spewed from its gaping maw marked the end of another wretch, barely a man by her count. Tap... Tap...... Tap!? The next trio were slowed, mostly by the obnoxiously bright glow that was radiating out from Remiel. If it weren't' for her goggle's automatic polarization she would have been blinded by the light.

The intense new star that had winked into existence around Remiel barely had a moment to attack Lanara's eyes before her suit interceded, darkening the entire visor until it was near opaque. Rem's glow was so furiously bright that it made the almost completely polarized visor, which had gone to its maximum setting, seem like nothing at all... perfectly visible and clear. Lan watched the man as his form shifted, structure rearranged, and hair grew amazingly long.

Lana found that she could do little more than simply watch in awe as he unlatched his lightsaber. Which, normally, would have disconcerted her a bit... but was easily ignored considering the circumstances. A tinge of yellow and orange pervaded the ocean that was her eyes, though it was already being swallowed up by a growing pool of soft lavender. Even the snap-hiss of his lightsaber and the cacophony of countless blasters discharging did little to throw her out of that moment of awe.

For a moment it seemed that nothing could bring her back to reality, nothing could force her mind away from the guardian angel that stood between her and the horde of ravenous beasts that clamored and howled for her blood. Their blood. Not until the thought arrived. It was alien, completely foreign... not hers... and it felt as such. --Lanara…please, kitling, be careful.-- It sent her mind reeling back to the present, and away from that awesome being that was now cutting through the enemy lines like a light saber through durasteel plating.

No... No! He didn't jus' do that!! Idiot! Her mind screamed at her as she realized what he'd done. Back at the doorway they had the advantage, they could use the enemies numbers against them or simply nullify that advantage with the bottleneck. Since Rem had a lightsaber he could have simply hacked and slashed his way to victory. But no. Instead he charged their lines, soon to be surrounded and overwhelmed by their numbers AND firepower.

She'd be damned if that happened.

Another flash of movement brought her previously lowered carbine in position to sling another trio of rounds at her enemy. Rem's enemy. Her blaster grew hot at the near constant firing, but with each passing salvo Greegar's merc's numbers dwindled down by one. She too advanced on their lines, but not nearly so wrecklassly and haphazardly as Remiel. Lanara ran up in a flash of soft blue armor from cover to cover, protecting her from any possible projectiles that her enemys may send her way. Fortunately and unfortunately, however, it seemed that a great deal of the mercs were focused on Rem, who was doing a wonderful job of turning the Hutt's finest into hunks-o-meat. It took her far longer than she'd have liked to reach the enemy's broken lines, but by then most of their focus was off of her and on the angry Jedi that was slicing and dicing with that deep blue saber of his. Lucky for her.

The brunette woman stayed behind the closest cover she could find, a simple water vaporator, and sent as many bolts the crowd's way as possible. No longer was she following the strict three round burst fire discipline, oh no, she was more or less indescrimanently firing into the gaggle of mercs. Hoping beyond hope to draw as much of their attention AWAY from Remiel as possible, her armor could take blaster bolts like a dry sponge would water. It could even reflect a bolt if the beam hit it just right, but the blasted stuff could withstand just about anything energy based, save a lightsaber of course. And a turbo laser. Well, anything man portable.

Rem, however, could only parry... and he couldn't parry forever. A simple tear began to roll down her eyes as her mind yelled out at him, hoping that he could hear, Remiel! ya WILL get back 'ere right now! Gettin' killed won't do either of us any good!

She hoped he got the message...

[Talau the Ever-Lurking]

Oh yes….he’d gotten her message, and the one before it that had also been screamed into his mind. He’d also felt her creeping up on him and putting herself into more danger. Blasted woman was trouble for herself and him! Ataru wasn’t easy to pull off with wings, but he managed. He’d practiced on Rilia quite a bit and it had helped dramatically. Instead of the large appendages hindering him as they once had, they gave him extra bursts of speed or acted as spring loaded battering rams that could strike out at those behind or to the sides of him, causing confusion in their wake. Even as he tucked those wings in tight against his back and vaulted backward, his enemies unleashed a volley of fire into the area he’d just occupied, injuring and killing each other, even as the October took off into the atmosphere, turning tail and making for space.

Hopefully everyone had made it aboard…well, with the obvious exception of Lanara and himself.

--You are the only one who will be killed if you come any closer Lanara. Either retreat back to the door or stay there!--

He willed her to listen to reason for once and keep herself out of danger and in an area he could defend or planted where she was so she didn’t do something stupid and get herself into more trouble. She was, however, already causing herself more trouble and attracting attention away from him.

--Gorramit Lanara!--

He was forced to retreat back to her, falling back into his soresu stance as he deflected those bolts back at their owners, who had so recently become interested in his ward. That blue flame danced about before him, but he only had once blade and it could only reach so far. Thumbing the next key on his saber it sprung outward again, widening that shield of deflection. It wasn’t going to be enough. Just as he turned to throw back the next wave of blaster bolts his eye caught the intelligent ones who’d pulled out their slug throwers. Cursing inwardly he deactivated Luinar, throwing up his force shield with a motion of his hand. Now came the problem…

He couldn’t afford to concentrate on putting up defenses around Lanara and making them both sitting ducks, nor could he defend her easily from those with slug throwers who were jockeying for positions to get an aim on them both and he couldn’t lower his own shield or he might be injured enough that he would be of no good to them. That left him with three options…charge the crowd again, grab Lanara and try to make a run for it, or use himself as a shield. Option one left too much to chance. Option two took too much time.

--You’re going to get us killed by being out here Lanara.--

With that one of those large wings snapped open in front of her, absorbing the impact from the bullets with a sickening sound of skin, tendon and muscle ripping, blood soon dripping to the ground from the injured appendage. As they reloaded he took his chance, launching at them as those wings pulled in behind him. The blue fire sprang to life once more as that corkscrew motion he launched forward in had him slipping into their ranks untouched until he was there, suddenly, and unleashing a series of speed enhanced slashes at those around him, effectively turning them into so much mince meat.

Slug thrower group 1: eliminated.

The second set of those men had noticed the slaughter of their companions and were scrambling to get lost amidst the others there as they too backed away from the demon of a force user…the herald of their doom if they stayed much longer. He wasn’t about to let them go so easily, however. With an injured wing, dozens of blaster grazes, and now having to worry about slug throwers in the mix…not to mention an infuriatingly stubborn woman who was causing him more problems than she was resolving…those men were about to be VERY sorry, and then VERY dead.

[Dire Wolf]

A smirk pulled one her right cheek to the side almost as if it was being pulled by a string. The being that held the other end of his string in its grasp barely strong enough to bend the muscles of her cheek to his will. This action was, of course, the reaction to the external stimuli that was the gaggle of mercs, many of the front-liners of which had more or less forgot about Rem as their arse was peppered with enough plasma to pop a balloon. The next facial expression to cross her face, however, was not a smirk... nor was it positive. Her lavender eyes grew as wide as milk saucers at the sight of at least 5 mercs spinning around to bring their weapons to bear on her.

Lanara barely had to twitch her leg muscles to bring her body back around behind the cover of the moisture vaporator, dozens of blaster bolts sizzled through the space that she'd just occupied not three heartbeats before. Her head bowed away from the maelstrom of bolts that whurred and sizzled past the vaporator, and her eyes shut tightly on instinct, almost as if the gruesome truth of her being suppressed would go away if her eyes were shut tight enough.

Then, suddenly, it stopped. The cacophony of blasters didn't, however, if anything it increased... almost as if every blaster that was pointing against her. But the sizzling of the air as the little bolts of plasma was unheard in her ear, but was replaced with the whurring of a lightsaber blade. A light smile stretched her lips thin at the realization: Rem had saved her. Near instantly she slung herself to the side of him, using part of his body for cover as his lightsaber returned each salvo to its sender. Though it seemed that he couldn't quite get each one, and more-than-a-few grazed his skin.

That was when she saw it: the gaping maw of a slug thrower that was pointed straight in her direction. Her own repeating carbine was slinging blaster bolts into the opposite end of the gaggle, and couldn't seem to whip around and shoot the merc fast enough. Inside of that rifle that was pointing straight at Lanara rested a simple bullet, one that was 5.56 millimeters across and 27 millimeters long. Its composition was simple, lead wrapped in a copper jacket that would allow better armor penetration. Once the firing pin hit the primer, igniting the gunpowder which would cause the expanding gas to propel the projectile out of the barrel, it would fly at about three thousand feet per second. It would, of course, span the small distance between it and Lanara quite literally less time than one could blink.

That firing pin struck the small primer in the center of the brass cartridge, causing the series of events that lead to the bullet flying out of the barrel towards Lana. Time slowed to a crawl as the expanding super-heated gasses erupted outwards like lava from a volcano, propelling the spinning bit of lead towards the two. The air seemed to ripple at the heated bullet's twisting, causing a matrix-like air effect. There was something that had moved in between it and its target, however... it was a simple avian wing. Not enough to stop the bullet, but perhaps enough to slow it down if it hit the hollow bone structure.

Fortunately, it did just that... the wing had moved enough to hit a bone. And, after travelling through thick sinew like muscle, hitting a bone and ricocheting off of said bone, the bullet was travelling at a slightly modified direction. Instead of hitting Lanara in the heart, it grazed the side of her chest. It didn't take long after that little shot before Rem was off again, slicing those slug thrower toting mercs up like a thanksgiving turkey.

In a flash of movement Lanara was back behind the vaporator, her hands fluttering about her body searching for a bullet hole as her blaster hung loosely on her sling. The spitfire eventually found it, and after thanking the Force at her luck, she spun back around and began to fire into the crowd once more. Only this time she kept to her strict "two in the chest, one in the head" fire discipline. Oddly enough, it was just then that she saw a perfect stall for her to set up shop in, one that allowed for 360 degree cover and with enough structural integrity to withstand a storm of plasma bolts. It looked like it anyways.

Lanara looked for cover to move to, hopefully making herself able to work her way up to the little patch of real estate. Unfortunately, there was none that looked suitable... so she'd have to make some. Her armored hand flung itself at a small cylinder on her hip, pulled the pin, and almost threw the thing. It was smoke, and would lay an opaque cloud across the area, one that would mask her movements. She would still be able to see the gaggle via infrared vision, even shoot at them, but none of it really mattered.

Why?

Well, a small red sphere plopped into the sandy-gravel next to her feet. As far as most natural instinct reactions go, hers was pretty fast. A swift kick sent the plasma grenade flying off in a random direction, but unfortunately... pretty fast wasn't quite fast enough. She knew it, too, Awww fu-, the grenade detonating cut off her thought. Luckily, just as the grenade was about to exit the 5 meter mark, the killzone inside her armor, the grenade was replaced by a furiously bright star. If she was in any other armor but the kind she had donned at that very moment, she'd be dead.

The concussion of the blast threw her back a good twenty feet into the wall next to the door way, and made those synthetic muscles on her suit dull and unresponsive compared to before. A host of blood red warning lights flashed at her through the cracked visor that covered her face, making her look dead at first glance. Of course, the calm, digitized voice of a man washed over her ears, "damage critical. Armor sections A¹-Z⁴ compromised. Recommend shut down immediately." A cough racked her form as she got up, that armor of hers not quite as responsive as it used to be. Her insides felt like they'd been squeezed by an angry wookiee, and she had an odd tang in her mouth. "I rec-," she coughed, "I recommen' you shut 'ur digital trap 'fore I shut it for ya."

The armor clad woman got up slowly and retreated to the door with the haste of a sloth. Her carbine had been lost in the rapid transit, and she was left with her magnetic accelerator pistol. In a smooth yet slow motion she drew the weapon from its holster and took cover behind the right side of the door way. Every so often she'd pop around slowly, still not quite used to the new lag in speed, and pop a merc in the face... but it wasn't often. The digitized view of her armor showed a host of flashing red lights marking her entire armor... front, both sides, and back. It was unlikely that it would take anything more than a glancing blow.

She really didn't look forward to that glancing blow, either.

[Talau the Ever-Lurking]

If Remiel had known about her movements, no one could say. He certainly didn’t seem to notice them between the pain of his damaged wing and the fury he felt, the heat of his anger rising up off of him like the shimmering air that rose from the baking ground around them. The warning ripples through the force all but screamed into his mind just as he had tossed back a group of his enemies with a wave of kinetic energy from his palm, his saber skewering through another who dared to come within range of the dark blue blade.

All he saw from the corner of his eye was a blur of movement and then a blaze of light and the unmistakable sound of an explosion. Soon as the light had died down, his head whipped in the direction of Lanara…or where she had been. It didn’t take much to find her again, she was only a little off to the side and a bit of distance back. Seeing her there, like that, collapsed against the wall and half splayed along the ground….it was too much for him, thinking that she might be dead. The pain, grief and anger welled up in him, eating away at the last of his restraints.

His coat billowed around his legs, wings stretching upward and flexing slightly despite the pain of his injuries as that stiffly spiked hair rustled in the invisible gale that swirled around only him. Jet black eyes and the sparks that flickered about in that intangible whirlwind was enough to make those around him withdraw, bumping into each other as they struggled to back away…but it was too late for them. That blue and aura around him laced with red and black, a maelstrom of power and emotion. An intense silence seemed to radiate out from the man for mere moments before he screamed his agony and hatred at his enemies, that gale around him fully fledged as it erupted outward like a supernova of energy, fire and mental anguish. Those great wings extended fully as he let loose his unintentional attack, the bodies of those nearest him were broken and their lives torn from them as they burned if they were unfortunate enough to live through the concussive energy and mental beating. Those further off, or shielded slightly from the kinetic blast by their allies were thrown backward or burst aflame indiscriminately. It was lucky that Lanara was far enough away from Remiel that his actions would have little effect on her, especially since she had hidden behind something more solid, having dragged herself behind a doorway.

Collapsing to a knee amidst the wreckage and carnage that was now strewn about him, Remiel’s saber flickered out as the last of those thugs (the ones that lived anyway) pulled themselves up and scrambled away. He was shaking, drained, injured, but there was still danger…he could feel it coming and it was nearer than he liked. He needed to get himself and Lanara out of here…dead though she might be. Remiel wouldn’t allow them to do anything to her body. Growling as he pushed himself up, drawing on the force once more to give himself the energy he needed…the energy and strength he was now lacking…he pushed himself up and turned toward where he’d last seen Lanara laying, those injured wings folding in carefully along his back. The rilan expected to see her body there, and when he didn’t, he immediately bristled again, those wing feathers ruffling up slightly…until he saw a shadow in the doorway there…felt…

--…Lanara?...--

He looked to the doorway, moving toward it cautiously, ready to strike should it simply be his desire for her to be alive playing tricks on his mind and the shadow he saw really be an enemy.

[Dire Wolf]

The armored brunette heard it just as she allowed herself to settle heavily against the doorway. A scream. But it wasn't one of fear, nor was it one of physical agony. No. It was one of emotional and spiritual agony at her 'death.' Yes, it did looked like she died. Chaos, it felt like she died in that explosion, and Force knew she should have died. No doubt that if she was wearing any other kind of armor she may not be dead... but she'd definitely be worse off.

If her armor didn't dull all noises over a certain decibel the scream would have registered fully in her ears, and likely have burst her eardrums. She glanced out at Rem just as a knee fell to the ground, his winged form the epicenter for carnage and destruction almost beyond what she'd seen before. The only other comparable time was the quelling of a terrorist faction based out of Felucia... and only then because she bore witness to the effect that the swamp parasites had on unprotected flesh. Seeing a man's arm that was digested from the inside out is NOT something that one sees and forgets about. Ever. Some of the times on that month long mission on the planet still finds its way into a few... all... of her dreams.

Lanara fell back against the wall and holstered her pistol, all of the wretches were dead. Her armored head fell against the wall with a thud, and she closed her eyes... thanking the Force that both she and Rem survived the onslaught. In a single, slow, and graceful motion the woman slid her pistol into its somewhat melted holster when, as if without warning, a foreign thought entered her mind. --...Lanara?...-- It was completely and totally alien, and while it wasn't malevolent, she never truly got used to it.

A heavy sigh followed by a terrible coughing fit forced her to fall to her hands and knees. That tang that she felt in her mouth? Well, the taste just got a bit stronger. She suddenly felt awful claustrophobic in that helm of hers, behind those goggles and that face mask. Her hand took off the goggles and the mask in a slow, graceful movement... she could manage nothing more what with her armor being so disagreeable. The heat from her external environment almost instantly swept into the coolness of her armor, assaulting her face... and her lungs... causing yet another coughing fit to erupt out of her lungs.

After her second coughing fit was over she turned those honey colored eyes up to Rem. Her tone belied the slight feeling of dread that came with the awareness of her injuries... and the coughs, "yeah?"

[Talau the Ever-Lurking]

((tres suck))

“Yeah?”

The coughing he heard before and after the word sent a mixture of emotions through his already tiring form. His shimmering form appeared in the doorway as he looked down at her silently. She was alive…thank the force for that, but even he could feel the damage done to her and the warning in the force was growing stronger each passing moment.

We need to get you out of that armor…or as much of it as possible. I need to carry you and that armor won’t help me with how I’m going to have to move while carrying you.

In short: “tell me how the hell to get that armor off you woman, we can’t stick around here.” His finger tips tapped restlessly along the hilt of his lightsaber as he gazed down at her, black eyes fading into yellow and green as the fear began to creep up again with his happiness at seeing her alive. She was alive, yes, but she was in bad shape and now they were about to have more problems arriving with blasters.

[Dire Wolf]

She listened as Remiel spoke to her about removing the armor, trying to hold back a morbid chuckle for fear of the pain that would ensue from the buckling of her diaphragm. Instead, she dragged her forearm against her lips, wiping off the excess saliva that was brought to them from the long series of coughs and shook her head. "It takes me half-an-hour to get this thing offa me when it works right. Unl-" she caught sight of her armored forearm, which had a nice crimson smear across the royal blue synth muscle.

Lanara gave a long sigh at the sight... coughing up blood was not exactly a good sign. Each breath was like a blast of hot air into her chest, like the gentle breeze of the scorching desert of Tatooine. The woman managed to lift herself off of her hands, then finally up to her feet... and each centimeter of altitude looked to be a struggle. She'd had far worse than what she had at that moment... she just couldn't exactly remember when. "I'm sorry," the bruenette's eyes drooped to dusty deck of the star port at the words.

The spitfire of a woman left the ship in hopes of helping the grey jedi, but instead became a liability. Now it was likely that he'd die defending her from the horde of reinforcements. "Go, Rem. I got 'nuff ammo to cut down these ingrates in the prime a existence." As if on cue, the final syllable that left her lips caused another terrible coughing fit to erupt from her lungs, making the inside of her chest hurt more and more with each passing cough. At the closing of this short, but wet, series of coughs she spit out yet another small bit of blood.

Did she have valor? Hell yeah. Was she using her intelligence at that point in time? Hell no.

[Talau the Ever-Lurking]

(le suck)

That means little to a lightsaber…just tell me where to cut, woman, and stop being a martyr.

The struggle for her to get up, the blood on her armor, it didn’t go unnoticed by those black, red and yellow eyes…but that wasn’t what had him tensing. That wasn’t what had him looking over his shoulder and scowling, wings ruffling and raising up like some sort of half angel, half demon. Rounding on her once more, he let out a gruff grunt and stared her down.

We’re leaving. Don’t struggle or you’ll get us both injured worse than we are…we’re going to be moving swiftly.

With that he scooped her up swiftly. Unfortunately he didn’t have time for gentility, and he was sure it would hurt her, but they might at least live.

Hold on to me.

Those wings folded in against his back as he wrapped the force around his muscles, pulling in and exerting it swiftly and efficiently to propel himself out the door and bounding up a stack of crates and onto the roof of a near by building. From there his path was undefined…a myriad of walls and obstacles and sandy roofs that comprised this new movement course. To him, that’s all it was…a new and improved Art of Movement course for him to traverse. That was exactly how he moved along it also…large wings shifting to balance and counter balance his movement as he skidded along sandy balconies, ran up and along walls, lept over gaps between buildings…putting as much distance between himself and his starting point as possible as swiftly as possible. The stress on his body was taking its toll on him, however, and he wasn’t going to be able to move like this for much longer.

[Dire Wolf]

Lanara offered a weary sigh and a wet cough at his words. He truly didn't understand the nature of her armor, because if he did he'd realize that she simply couldn't be "cut" out of the blasted thing. That'd be too easy. He would have to cut it at precisely the right spot so that the synthetic muscle would rip itself apart... and he'd have to do it on every single synthetic muscle. Granted, he'd have a few inches give or take for error... but even still. It would take a little while to cut the thing off of her. If he decided just to go Zoro on her it was likely that she'd earn herself a few saber slashes or he wouldn't cut far enough.

She sighed, yet again, as there was no point in saying anything. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out just what Remiel was going to do. What she couldn't do, however, was move in such a way to dull the pain that erupted from her chest as he jerked her up into his arms. A sharp hiss forced its way out from between tightly clenched teeth just as he began to run, the force from each of his steps working their way back up to her and causing just a little bit more pain than the last. Slowly, and painfully, she wrapped her arms around his neck. Making his life easier was the least she could do, considering the fact that he was currently carrying her up a building and would probably start free running at any given moment.

Lana allowed her head to rest against his chest as he jumped and ran in a vain attempt to look comfortable despite the screaming pain in her chest at his quick and jarring motions. She also resisted the nearly overwhelming urge to cough, as that would only make things worse and her harder to carry. Eventually, however, they stopped... and once she was put down the woman forced her suit to walk over to a small structure on the roof and slide her back down against it. A heavy pant caused her chest to heave, though the armor wouldn't allow it to rock back and forth as quickly as her body would have liked. "Rem," her heavy breathing paused each word, "thanks. I... think... we... should... get... me... out... of... this... armor."

With that, she began to try to undo each of the plates that held the synthetic muscles. Key word: Tried. It required a certain strength that she just didn't have at that moment in time. It didn't stop her from trying, however. Nothing could do that.

[Talau the Ever-Lurking]

A light nod was given to her words as he panted, those wings rapidly shrinking back into his very bones. The marrow, the cartilage, everything that made up those wings filtered back into his body, shifting back into his body mass, weighing his body down once more. The problem with the shift though...the break in his wing bones?...yeah....it transferred into the bones of his ribs. A light hiss was given as he felt that break transfer over, weakening and fracturing three of those enclosing bones.

Yes, I agree...but first I need to heal you a bit. It'll be far from perfect, but I have to stop the bleeding.

Yes, he knew she was injured badly. He was far from stupid and while he'd been running he'd been checking her through the force as best he could. That injury was about as blaring as a flare on a dark night.

Try to relax.

[Dire Wolf]

Lanara's head hit the hard slab of sandstone wall heavily as she tried to force her breath past the restrictive muscles of the suit. The pain involved in both actions meant little to the woman, she had been trained to ignore such things of the body and the mind. The funny thing about her armor, while it was great at times... it made itself nigh impossible for some muscles to push their way past while it was powered down. Like the abdominal region. "Just... argh... alright. I'll "try" to relax," she paused for a brief moment... only to think, "yeah. Try. I'm the gorram definition of serenity." Her head shook once to mirror her amusement at his comment before she spoke again, "right. Okay... basic'ly you jus' 'ave ta pull each segmen' down. Startin' from th' top ta th' bodom. After that... jus' gotta gimmie outta the underlay."

All that the brunette could manage to do was breathe as the distance between them closed, and he began to pull each segment of armor off of her. Eventually, each of the synthetic muscles found their resting place on the hot sandstone and all that remained was a matte black underlay. Each chest and abdominal section allowed the woman's diaphragm to extend out just a little further. It allowed her to breathe, and therefore stopped the heat killing her. "Thank the Force. Oh... I can breathe. Hmm.. I thin-," she cut her train of thought off right there. He could read her thoughts, and there was no way that she wanted him to hear that.

It didn't take long for her to worm out of the heat dampening underlay, and each inch brought more and more exposed skin. She was wearing clothes underneath all that armor, yes, but not much. All that the woman essentially had was a white tank top that clung heavily to her form, exposing her midriff to the elements just at the base of the ribs. Around her hips clung a pair of hot pants, anything more and her clothing would grow incredibly uncomfortable with the pressure of the formfitting armor around her.

"Thank... you... Rem," her exhausted muscles could no longer support her back, and she simply fell backwards onto the sandstone roof of the house. The searing heat of the twin suns baked the woman's soaking skin and heated the stone underneath her back. Lanara cared little for the pain involved in not moving, as she could do little to move. All that she could do was angle her head to the side and close the skyward eye tightly, hoping to save herself from the dull pain of staring into a bright light.

Her well defined abdominal region shimmered with sweat as it heaved up and down heavily. The coughing fit that would have no doubt occurred from this panting did not come right away, as her lungs were enjoying the newfound space to fill. It felt like she was simply laying there for hours on end, panting heavily. Her one open eye gazed out from the dark shadow created by the creation of the super bright sunlight and her sweaty face.

Eventually, the woman managed to fight against her own arm so that it could drape across her face. The brunette sighed happily as the back of her elbow fit in perfectly with her nose. She was in heaven. Despite the incredible amount of heat, searing pain, and sweatyness, of course.

[Talau the Ever-Lurking]

It took quite a bit of time and effort on both their parts to get the stubborn armor off. For the life of him, Rem just couldn’t understand why ANYONE would want armor THIS difficult to get off if it became disabled. It was a death trap waiting to happen…and it likely would have been a death trap for her had he not been around. The thought hardened those blue eyes to a frustrated brown laced with an angry orange. Ignoring her thought, he helped her ease back onto the hot roof. He couldn’t hope to move her without checking her first…there was too much of a chance of furthering whatever damage she had sustained and he wouldn’t risk that. She certainly wasn’t wearing much, so he would have to get her to shade sooner rather than later or she’d fry in the sun and get heatstroke.

Hush and try to relax. The more you relax the better for us both.

With a mild groan and a sigh, he shifted himself onto his knees, those hands hovering above her upper abdomen. It was lucky for them both that she wasn’t truly focusing on him. Remiel had sustained quite a bit of damage because of her foolish antics of joining the fray and not leaving with the others…now he was going to have to heal her and that wasn’t about to make his injuries any better. It was a good thing that she couldn’t see what was about to happen beneath his long duster coat as he healed her. While he pushed that energy into her…first from the force, then supplemented it with his own energy…he focused on her injuries, but his…well, it wasn’t entirely uncommon for the Rilan to sustain more damage while healing others if already injured themselves. Depleted as his reserves were in the force, as tired as he was, expending that energy deepened those injuries.

Luckily those cracked ribs didn’t break, luckily he hadn’t been injured horribly, and lucky he (like many jedi) had a high pain tolerance. Slowly but surely he healed the more life threatening damage she had taken from the grenade and so he had been able to pull her further away from death’s door. Bleeding had been repaired, bruising to her lungs had been lessened, fractured ribs had been mended…and he was exhausted. Any more and he ran the risk of death himself…not that he would have minded if it meant saving her life, but if they could both live, it would be preferable. With another, barely audible groan, he shifted again and undid his coat, slowly, painfully, and carefully pulling it off to reveal the blue-grey and leather armor beneath. Wrapping her up in it, he pulled her into his arms (unfortunately he didn’t have the strength to be overly gentle about it), hoisted them both up, and walked to a patch of relative shade, settling her down in it before standing up once more on shaky legs.

Stay put, if you move too much too soon you risk undoing what I just did…and neither of us wants that.

It was lucky for him that he could control the amount of his shaking, the physical signs of his weakness…he didn’t wish to worry her more than she might be already. Besides…he didn’t enjoy being seen in a weakened condition…it made potential attackers that much more willing to attack, and he couldn’t have that. Not right now. He couldn’t protect either of them like this…not without his death being the result.

[Dire Wolf]

Exhausted. Lanara's entire being could have been summed up in that word at that very moment. Those taut bands of sinew were pulled tight beneath her tanned skin, which glittered and gleamed in the light of the twin suns as it moved from her heavy panting. At that moment, she vowed to never wear another suit of light power armor... ever. The increased speed and power simply wasn't worth the consequences of it being damaged.

Well... at least power armor from that particular manufacturer.

The bruenette heaved a long sigh as her tall guardian withdrew his hand from the space above her abdomen. A small smile graced her tired lips as he pulled back further and took off of his coat. It wasn't obvious to those now blue sapphire's set in her eyes that he was in pain due to her. Nor was how his pulling her into his arms lacked a certain kind of caring, gentle force.

Quite the opposite. She saw the intentions behind both of the actions... or what she thought were his intentions... and they were noble. Lana simply curled her weight into the tall blonde's chest as he set her down on a spot of relative shade. It cooled her now skin, and revealed the rather serious sunburn on her exposed flesh.

A light, but exhaused giggle caused her abdomen to rumble up and down in a wave at the man's words. Though he was rather shaky... it wasn't surprising to her. They just got out of a near death experience, and the adrenaline was bound to be coursing through his system. "hehehe, Rem, I ain't goin' no where."

Heat. Even while in the cooling shade, she couldn't escape it. Why? She was wrapped up in a jacket. Lanara soon began to squirm her body out of the jacket like some kind of snake out of a cave. Unfortunately, the woman didn't even have the energy to pull herself out of the jacket all the way... and simply slumped into the cool sandstone roof about halfway through her task.

Those little flaps of skin that covered her eyes soon grew in weight until it felt like they were a pair of steel plates, and quickly slid shut. "Rem, I... just..... want," the space between her words grew with each passing breath, "that... you'r-" A comfortable sigh and nestling of her head later, the woman had sunk into the depths of unconsciousness. Her breathing slowed from a quick pant to a more comfortable one, and her face adopted a rare peaceful look. If one looked at her face at that moment, she'd look like some kind of angel... definitely not a super-elite ex-black ops bounty hunter.

Too cute for that.