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A Time to Search
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| Rath-Deschain | Date: Sunday, 06 Jun 2010, 11:33 PM | Message # 31 |
 Colonel general
Group: Users
Messages: 857
Status: Offline
| Cale smiled faintly and, very slowly, raised his hands in mock surrender. His smile was hardly friendly, holding instead a large amount of cruelty and amusement in it, almost as if he knew something that the Mandalorian didn't, which was a great truth. This truth would be apparent by the hiss of his vessel's hatch opening, followed by a soft clunk as it locked in place. "Are you sure you want to do this, Mandalorian? It might well be easier to let me be on my way. I'm really not worth the trouble." Even as he was speaking, he was working through the Force, slowly working his way outwards, not at the Mandalorian, but at his weapon. There were two things he wanted to do. The first was to quickly flip the setting to kill and then rip the switch from its housing. The second was to crush the barrel, rendering the weapon useless. Nonetheless, he was prepared for the plan to fail, and had a contingency ready as he shifted his weight to move.
Rath Deschain
High Inquisitor
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| Fenn_Shysa | Date: Monday, 07 Jun 2010, 0:03 AM | Message # 32 |
 Sergeant
Group: Users
Messages: 37
Status: Offline
| The cardinal rule of fighting Jedi, as Mandalorians knew well, was not to give them time to think or, in other words, to use the Force. The only way to beat one was to keep him on the defensive, and to take him, endlessly, by surprise. This Mandalorian did not disappoint in either respect; even before Cale had finished his sentence, the Mandalorian, holding his blaster carbine steady, fired. But not the blaster carbine. Rather, his ring finger inclined upon his palm and triggered the dart launcher on his wrist which, in his grip on the carbine, happened also to be aimed at Cale. The dart—too small and fast even for a Jedi to see, although he would no doubt sense it—was a variant on a traditional Kyber dart, only this one contained a sedative instead of a poison. It was intended to hit Cale high on his chest, near his left shoulder, if he was unable to avoid it. The Mandalorian, meanwhile, was on the move; he pivoted on his braced, right leg and pressed, unexpectedly, to his right (Cale's left), and broke into a wide, circular trot. He kept his carbine trained on Cale the entire time, and pulled its trigger thrice in succession, each shot tracking further to Cale's right (the direction in which he was likely to dodge the dart). Each squeeze of the trigger sent a bright, blue stun blast in the former Jedi's direction which his lightsaber was unable to deflect.
Fenn Shysa
Mand'alor
Message edited by Fenn_Shysa - Monday, 07 Jun 2010, 0:05 AM |
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| Rath-Deschain | Date: Monday, 07 Jun 2010, 0:16 AM | Message # 33 |
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Colonel general
Group: Users
Messages: 857
Status: Offline
| Cale had studied history well, as was part of every Jedi and, indeed, noble's upbringing. The Mandalorians had always fascinated him, as deadly as they were against the Jedi. Unlike many, Cale was confident in the Force, but not cocky. Cockiness got people killed, and in this case, it would get him worse than killed. He could not afford to be captured. His danger sense kicked in just before the Mandalorian triggered his dart and Cale spun to the side, his right side as he threw himself forwards, rolling as the saberdart passed him, close enough to hear the soft noise it made as it cut through the air. With the Force assisting his movemets, his push as he rolled carried him further and the trio of stun blasts, not likely expectng him to move forwards towards his attacker (which was offset by the Mandalorian's circling maneuver). At that moment, a large, black-armored form burst into the clearing at a dead run, charging towards the Mandalorian. The armor it wore glowed from the various odd runes upon it and in one hand, it clutched a black staff with an odd blade at the tip, a blade that was lit around by a red glow that was unmistakably a lightsaber blade of some type. Not halting its movements, the figure extended its right hand, closing its fist and jerking upwards in the unmistakable gesture of a Force-empowered choke designed to lift the Mandalorian a good six feet into the air and begin a not-so-slow strangulation.
Rath Deschain
High Inquisitor
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| Fenn_Shysa | Date: Monday, 07 Jun 2010, 0:49 AM | Message # 34 |
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Sergeant
Group: Users
Messages: 37
Status: Offline
| Fortunately for the Mandalorian, he'd seen the thing, whatever it was, coming at him from some distance away. It looked like a droid, but it could just as well have been a man in power armor. He switched his carbine to kill. He might have stood a reasonable chance against it if the thing didn't have the Force. Not that he was out of this fight yet, of course. Even as he felt his throat begin to constrict and his lungs labor to breathe, he was thinking and acting. Caught in a Force power, the Mandalorian knew, one needed to distract the aggressor as urgently and dramatically as possible. It didn't look like his carbine would do much good against that armor. No matter. Man, droid, whatever it was the Mandalorian would make things a bit hot for it. He pulled one hand free of the carbine and aimed it at the black armored figure, and depressed his ring finger as he'd done before. This time, his wrist gauntlet loosed a stream of fluid that was adhesive and, as the figure would soon discover, immensely flammable. From his height from the ground and distance from the target, the stream of fluid would saturate the target rather than hit it in a localized area. All the better. The Mandalorian, beginning to see white spots in his vision, raised his carbine faintly and held down its trigger, spraying the thing in automatic fire—far more than it could deflect and, with its size and bulk, likely more than it could dodge. It was about to get very hot inside that suit. If it was a droid, it would in a few moments melt its circuitry. If it was a man, he'd boil to death if he didn't get out. The fancy, decorative runes would be burned, too, and deformed in the process. The fluid was intended to adhere to its target and burn, and burn, and burn. In the meantime, the Mandalorian could do little else but keep his finger on the trigger of his carbine and turn his head, and his vulnerable visor, away from the direction of any bolts that could be deflected back at him. His aim was not precise, however (it didn't need to be, of course). He half expected to die, and thus paid the Duke of Baltimn the courtesy of making sure a number of blaster bolts flew in his general direction too.
Fenn Shysa
Mand'alor
Message edited by Fenn_Shysa - Monday, 07 Jun 2010, 0:50 AM |
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| Rath-Deschain | Date: Monday, 07 Jun 2010, 1:02 AM | Message # 35 |
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Colonel general
Group: Users
Messages: 857
Status: Offline
| Cale had come to his feet, lightsaber finally ignited. It was then that he saw what had drawn the Mandalorian's attention. Repressing a growl of annoyance, he withdrew a few steps, deflecting any fire that came his way. He didn't want the Mandalorian dead, annoying as the man had been. Needless killing had never been Cale's style, but this time, it might become necessary. The suited being, however, was quite easily set alight. To the Mandalorian's surprise though, it would continue to advance. The hand holding the polearm though, swept from the top of its head down the body, and flame and fuel alike would seem to be swept from it. The runes flared bright white for a moment and then faded, blending in with the black armor again. Tendrils of smoke came from the edges of the suit, giving it a slightly melted appearance. Its crafting had made it capable of withstanding extreme amounts of heat before it succumbed though. The superficial damage was fixable. Bringing its fist down, the figure would aim to slam the Mandalorian into the ground, still choking. Then, oddly enough, it spoke, but the voice was toneless, hollow, yet it carried an undercurrent of hate with it. "Foolish man... you scrabble around, eking out a meager existence while so much power floats around you. You are not worth the life you inhabit... I will help you transcend the flesh and move into the Force." From the side, Cale realized what was about to happen. "No! Don't kill him, damnit!"
Rath Deschain
High Inquisitor
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| Fenn_Shysa | Date: Monday, 07 Jun 2010, 2:25 PM | Message # 36 |
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Sergeant
Group: Users
Messages: 37
Status: Offline
| (( It doesn't trouble me much in this particular thread, but for future reference, if, as I assume is the case, this suit of armor is actually empty and is being animated by Atropos, it's worth noting, I think, that Atropos is still bound by the physical limitations of Drasek Cale's body and Drasek Cale's ability to concentrate and use the Force. If I'm right that the suit is being controlled by Atropos, via Cale, then I assume the shots fired at Cale which he had to delect would necessarily break not only his concentration but that of Atropos as well. An explanation of exactly what's happening, however, would be helpful and is probably required in Turn Based, so the opponent can know whether to call shenanigans. Not that I'm accusing you of shenanigans, mind you. But for instance, an explanation of how exactly the flame is being put out would be appreciated also. I do have some doubts that it might not be kosher under Rule 3.1. Again though, I don't mind it so much in this particular thread, but in the future it will probably come up again. )) The Mandalorian could do little at this point but wait. That is, to wait to pass out or to die. Or both, as he suspected would be the case. He always had a suspicion that death, especially by asphyxiation, was like going to sleep. He was certainly feeling lightheaded now—his hearing was about to fail him, and so were his eyes, as white began to close in around the edges of his vision. Whatever he saw and heard in the next moment would undoubtedly be the last thing he saw, whether before passing out or before dying.
Fenn Shysa
Mand'alor
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| Rath-Deschain | Date: Thursday, 10 Jun 2010, 5:12 AM | Message # 37 |
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Colonel general
Group: Users
Messages: 857
Status: Offline
| (sorry, my fault not being clear. he was using tthe force to shuck the fuel from his armor. the other stuff i'll discuss in messenger with ya.) as deprived of oxygen as the mandalorian was, weakened by loss of air and the joly into the ground, he might not make much sense of what happened next. before the man (for, presumably it was a man) in the suit could finish his death grip, the former jedi crashed into the suit, knocking it to the ground and breaking the force grip. "no, damn you! he's just a bysatnder! an idiot! that's not reason for death!" the suited form spun, launching the jedi away as it climbed to his feet. "pathetic... you fear what you've created... jedi." the last word was spat with loathing. "you give me life and instead, you hold my actions back? disgusting. what a waste you are." Added (10 Jun 2010, 6:12 Am)
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the mandalorian might well have passed out by now; if not, a quick pinch off of his air by the armored figure before cale slammed into the suit again might well do the trick. if the mandalorian were unconscious, he would miss the argument between the two that ended with cale's insistence to keep the mandalorian alive. providing there were no issues, the man would be stripped of his armor and gear (the gear being checked for traps), then securely bound (naked save for underclothes) and stowed on the ship. the oddest of all, perhaps, was once the dark suit was stowed, it became lifeless and the duke seemed to freeze, spacing out for a long moment. when he shook his head and rubbed his eyes, he looked at the bound mandalorian with some curiosity. how had he manged to overcome the man again? well, no matter that he couldn't quite remember. he'd had a number of memory gaps before. with a destination in mind, cale departed null for his next mission.
Rath Deschain
High Inquisitor
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| Fenn_Shysa | Date: Tuesday, 15 Jun 2010, 1:49 PM | Message # 38 |
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Sergeant
Group: Users
Messages: 37
Status: Offline
| Hours had passed, and the sun was setting on Null. The sun was a brilliant orange, which glinted off the hull of a Meteor-class Q-carrier that stood stoic watch over the excavation site. Mandalorians bustled about the site, their helmets cradled in their arms and blaster rifles resting upright on their shoulders as they browsed the debris, the charred dirt, the remains of the droids, and so on. Fenn Shysa was there, his hands on his hips and his hair as fiery orange as the sky as he surveyed the site with a troubled glare. "Vod Shysa," one of the other, armored Mandalorians approached him from behind. Fenn turned to him, only to find a lightsaber in the man's outstretched hand. "We found this." Fenn narrowed his eyes as he nodded, took the weapon and studied it. His suspicions were confirmed. "Vy'am," Fenn said, and the Mandalorians began gathering their things and meandering back to the troop carrier. There was no sign of Vod Skirata anywhere, and it seemed they had learned all they would from this site. He clipped the lightsaber to his belt and placed his helmet on, and had been preparing to leave himself when, suddenly, he heard a faint, raspy burst of binary code from behind him. His hand tensed instinctively over his holstered blaster as he turned, slowly, in the direction of the sound. There, on the ground, was the still functional remains of an L2 labor droid. Its photoreceptors were watching him. Watching everything. Beneath his visor, Fenn's eyebrow raised. END.
Fenn Shysa
Mand'alor
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