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| Heart of Beskar | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Oct 6 2010, 09:44 PM (260 Views) | |
| Beviin | Oct 6 2010, 09:44 PM Post #1 |
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Diet Dew Fiend
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Gayiyli Prudii Eparavu was being followed. At that, it was either by an amateur or by someone intentionally displaying their presence so as to distract her from the real threat. She marked a tracker in her HUD regardless; the helmet's sensor array would follow the individual's location with a ping noise which changed area in her helmet to reflect position, and tone for proximity. Not that she needed it. Her experience as a professional courier had built an instinctive sixth sense in her, a sort of danger alarm. There was something else, too, occasionally. Something she couldn't quite describe. There were times when she could... 'see' things that she shouldn't. Times when enemies lurked beyond a door, or when an informant was about to go turncoat. She could perceive something beyond what her eyes told her. A disturbance in the air, there but not. As if there were an invisible heads up display providing data she could scarce understand. Gayiyli had heard mention, from her grandmother, tales of her ancestor Beviin Eparavu. He was known in the clan as a 'Child of Sight', a unique birth only visited upon the families every few decades. Supposedly a trace of alien heritage, or jedi, or both. She didn't much care either way; she was a proud mandalorian woman, and had no use for archaic force magic. Still, she knew deep down, there had been occasions where it had saved her life. The urban scenery blurred by as Gayiyly increased her pace. A mandalorian in a city was not extraordinary, to the contrary creating the effect of a wider berth. However, this was Bastion. An ever increasingly fortified planet, and the last refuge of the Roan Fel Empire. Anyone here was either a Fel loyalist, or hunting one. Gayiyli was the former. Most mandalorians had sided with the Galactic Alliance during the war, but when the sith took over the empire, all bets were off. Her clan had dealings with the sith in ages past, and none ended favorably. She glanced back, saw a figure duck back around a corner. Well, she was sure she was being followed now, and worse, the person following knew she was sure. The stranger was likely trying to follow her to her employer. Well, tough luck for him. She had already deposited her parcel with its owner, and picked up her shadow on the way back to her ship. Gayiyli pulled her cloak tighter around her, a dull brown fabric covering her teal and red plates. It was hard to conceal her helmet, which she wore for protection and practicality. She ducked into a side alley suddenly, down a flight of stairs and pressed the call button on a rusty-looking turbolift. She faced the portal, using her deceptive t-visor to cast a sidelong glance at the stalker peering around the corner. Probably just some kid who has never seen a mando. Not taking any chances though. She was tempted to lure him around a corner and kill him, but she didn't need the extra responsibility. Disposing of bodies was a chore. Finally the seemingly disused turbolift opened, revealing a heavy-set man in a trench coat. Through the gap in the coat, Gayiyli could spot a hint of dark red armor, which Gayiyli recognized as that of an Imperial Knight. Force sensitives with absolute dedication to the emperor, they rivaled a well-paid mandalorian in protection. His features were grim, scrunched into a frown as he looked her up and down. Stubble speckled his aged features. "No entry." He shook his head. His black ponytail swished over his shoulder. His eyes narrowed, as if expecting her to become violent. Gayiyli sighed, and slowly held her hands to her sides, showing no weapon. She leaned in close to the disguised knight, and attempted a whisper through her comm. -"We will never fall, for we still have Fel."- The knight seemed taken aback momentarily. "Remove your helmet for a retinal scan." She shook her head. -"Can't. Being followed. My face is a weapon they can use against me."- "I can't let you in without verifying your identity." The knight glanced to his right, not stepping from the turbolift, but appearing to detect a presence. -"Let me into the turbolift then. I'm unarmed. I need to escape my tail and get off planet."- This was not entirely true, as Gayiyli always carried a dart launcher in her right gauntlet, a knuckle mounted vibroblade in her left, and a small blaster in her helmet. The last item was designed for a probe droid, but refitted to her helmet in lieu of a rangefinder. Still, she meant no harm toward the Knight, as they were allies in current events. He seemed satisfied, but let one hand stray to where Gayiyli presumed his lightsaber was. He stepped back and allowed Gayiyli in, sealing the turbolift behind him. With a deeply programmed reluctance, she released the seal on her helmet, and removed it. The dim lighting of the lift revealed her features; fair skinned, a chestnut braid, and olive-green eyes. Her features reflected her lack of years, but the Imp Knight did not comment, obviously aware of how young mandalorians start careers. She resigned herself to a retinal scan, watching her information reflected in her comrade's datapad. She replaced her helmet as he read aloud: "Gayiyli Prudii Eparavu, age twenty. Mandalorian human. Commissioned courier for the Fel Empire." He raised his eyebrows. "Courier? That's an odd job for a mandalorian. Aren't you a warrior culture?" -"We're all warriors. It's arbitrary. But as with any society, we all have our own set of skills."- She stepped past the man, who allowed her to select her destination. The turbolift smoothly shifted into motion. "That makes sense." The knight nodded. "What kind of name is Gayiyli though? That can't be easy for even you folks to say." -"Honestly, I have no idea what it means. There's really no such thing as a mando baby-name book. My friends just call me Lily."- The knight smiled, as the turbolift opened to an underground facility. "Good luck then... Lily. The galaxy is full of enemies." She nodded, and stepped from the turbolift without asking his name. * * * * * * * * * * Meanwhile, on the surface, the person following Gayiyli had long changed course, and now strode leisurely away. After a minute of walking, he lifted a communicator to his mouth. "Mission accomplished. I stirred her up, you shoot her down." *********** It took only minutes for Gayiyli to reach her ship; she had left it in a concealed hangar, some distance from her objective. Taking the first turbolift available ensured her antagonists would lose her trail. The bay was unguarded, but she felt safe in leaving it here. To the contrary, Gayiyli felt that the any individual who knew its location could be made to tell another. Her craft, the Binding Light, an unassuming light freighter, hummed to life at her remote input, peeling open a section of hull to provide entry. Its owner hustled aboard, turned toward the cockpit, and immediately went head-over-heels, tumbling over an obtrusive lump of flabby skin and apathy. Gayiyli landed on her back, letting her limbs slack and lay for a moment staring up at red-rimmed eyes and a cavernous maw, filled with sharp teeth like the eye of a hurricane which tore through a sword market. A low grumble began at the far end of the tunnel which was the creature's esophagus, as it stared over her prone body. The rumble travelled to the beast's mouth, finally emerging with the flapping of loose jowls as an excited whine. A massive tongue, like a slimy slab of rare meat, slapped and slurped at Gayiyli's visor. "The first time you move in a galactic standard week, and you park yourself right in front of the hatch." The strill seemed to confirm its intentions by resting its massive head on hers. "Get off, Wigi. We need to go." It is debatable the extent to which a strill is able to comprehend sentient speech. Obviously one can be trained to recognize commands, but some, Gayiyli included, felt sure that through anything from hormones, tone, patterns, or empathy, their strills knew exactly what they were saying. And then consciously decided to obey, or too often for Gayiyli, to spite them. The strill however, seemed to sense the urgency, and reluctantly rolled onto its side-- a feat for this specimen, said to be descended from a traditional Eparavu pet. It vocalized a loud belch-like sound, sustained for several seconds with its mouth open, tongue lolling onto the floor. Gayiyly sprang from the durasteel surface and made for the cock pit, stopping to open a cabinet and lob a meat-crusted bone toward the strill. It landed astride the animal, just below the reach of its jaws. It began an inner debate which lasted for a time, the strill carefully considering the worth of moving as far as it may to gain a joy equal to laziness: eating. In this time, Gayiyli had fired up the engines in the craft, sent her departure transmission, and set her sights for the stars. The shields were directed toward the rear, as was usual, for her prime tactic involved using the Light's remarkable speed and low weight to burn vacuum and put the enemy behind her. This is not to say the ship was incapable of a dogfight, as there was a rotary cannon mounted under the cockpit, which could turn three-hundred degrees to face any direction but straight backward. The rear of the ship was loaded with anti-missile weapons, and a custom warhead she had devised, designed to hinder enemy tracking and communications via a storm of metallic flakes, similar to a chaff grenade. Gayiyli burst from the gravity of Bastion, leaving behind one of the safest refuges she may have enjoyed. Her work was never done, as there was always vital information to be borne somewhere, or an item of importance to the empire which needed to cross the galaxy quickly and safely. She allowed herself a parting glance at the great sphere, speckled still with visible inorganic structures. She left at midday, but her flight path afforded her a glimpse of twilight, as the dark side of bastion crept over its visible counterpart. Only because she had enjoyed such a sight, did she see what her scanners did not. As she blazed away from the safety of her second-home planet, a small fighter darted toward her from the concealment of bastion's night. |
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| Beviin | Oct 6 2010, 09:47 PM Post #2 |
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Diet Dew Fiend
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"Fierfek." Realization of the situation was a cold shock to Gayiyli's system. Immediately thereafter, came the physical shock of the ship being impacted by enemy fire. Gayiyli slammed the engines to full thrust, and activated the comm link with her other hand. "Bastion! Do you read me? This is Fel Imperial agent code name 'Final Flash'! I am under fire by an--" She cut herself short, upon realization that the signal never connected to the planet. She glanced at the rear cam and noticed another layer of twinkling among the stars, like millions more, closer and tinier. Chaff? "Shab shab shab!" Gayiyli tantrumed, pounding her fists on the console. They struck her jammer missile! The same tool which served her to orphan individual enemies now worked against her. She was alone in space with a sith assassin. Could they have targeted it on purpose? It is unlikely, as only a few people in the galaxy knew of it. To boot, it was a nearly impossible shot. The only options are escape, or turn to face them. Either one, or both, could result in death. Instinct told her to flee. Pride told her to fight. The ship beeped and blared at her, signifying that the shields had dropped. * * * * * * Kushiri Kotyc Eparavu looked disapprovingly at his daughter. "I've never heard of a mandalorian courier." "Exactly buir! I can break into an untapped market! All the professional bad-shebbery of a mandalorian devoted to... secure transport of parcels and information." Gayiyli smiled hopefully. Kushiri, tall and stout in his brown and red armor, looked at his daughter in the eyes, red-tinted t-visor to t-visor. "I don't want you in danger more than any other parent, Lily. A courier would seem to be a safer avenue than an assassin or bounty hunter, but it isn't." He pounded a knuckle on his chest plate, then hers. "You are mandalorian. When the time comes to fight, you know what that means." * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Gayiyli Prudii Eparavu was calm. She had made her decision. With the steady hand of one with nothing to lose, she began flipping switches and handling controls. Power forced to port shields, engines set to a portward ellipse. Remaining power was directed to the rotary cannon. Gayiyli brought up the port side view, and took aim. A stream of red blaster shots screamed through the night, filling and enveloping the space occupied by the enemy interceptor. Gayiyli pumped the air with her fist. "Take that aruetti!" Celebrations were cut short, as instead of an explosion, the result of the massive attack was minimal; the offending ship had lost its weapons and sustained hull damage, but was not destroyed. It sped through empty vacuum toward her, seemingly intent on a last ditch attack. Gayiyli wrenched at the controls, coaxing the ship to roll evasively over the attack. She clenched her eyes, waiting for the impact, but none came. Instead, there was a small jerk at the gravity of the ship. "What in corellian hell just happened?" Gayiyli check each exterior feed, searching for the belligerent ship. She found it, finally, on the underside camera. The craft seemed to be hanging in space, drawing closer and closer to the Binding Light, the view port staring into the camera like a passive, dead eye. What was happening here? A tractor beam? But the mass of even her light freighter was greater than that of the teensy interceptor, so... Gayiyli gasped loudly. She rushed back a few feet to where Wigi lay, slowly eroding the remaining bone with its tongue. It stared up at her, as if to imply a sincerest hope that she didn't want the slobbery skeletal limb. Gayiyli opened a nearby storage compartment, level with the ground. "Sorry Wigi, but we're being boarded. You gotta go in the hole." The strill looked apathetically at her, until she rolled its overweight form toward the compartment, stuffing it in with a dismayed squeak and sealing the chamber. The ship echoed with a loud clang as the sith interceptor connected with it. Alarms screeched, informing Gayiyli that hull integrity was being compromised. ` She sat back down in the cockpit, and grabbed the rotocannon's controls. "Got you where I want you, now." She aimed the vicious gun all the way to the left, but failed to put sights on the aggressor. Sweating inside her cooled helmet, she turned the cannon right, frantically wishing it could aim faster. The cannon ceased moving, indicating it had reached the end of its almost-circular field of fire. Gayiyli's stomach knotted. Whoever it was, the enemy had known where to find her, known how to prevent her calling for help, and knew exactly where to attach itself so to be untouchable whilst boarding. Somebody had betrayed her. Wigi moaned from his vacuum-sealed safety, as a slow hiss grew louder, alerting Gayiyli to time running out. "Forget it." She buckled herself in tight at the cockpit. "I know when to run. Let's see what happens to you if I enter hyperspace." There was no time to consider a destination, less to plot it. There was no time to consider her decision. She fired up the hyperdrive, and jumped. Stars streaked and bled together , blurring into a blanket of white. 'Best case scenario,' she thought to herself, 'I dislodge this pest and get somewhere safe. Worst case, i come out of hyperspace into a sun. Good odds.' Neither of these outcomes came, as the damaged hyperdrive exploded after a few seconds, abruptly returning the ship to real-space. The Binding Light drifted lifelessly through space, and worse, the enemy fighter was still attached. There was silence, for the moment, from the forced connection between ships. The pilot was obviously unprepared for the jump, and possibly otherwise affected. She had but a few minutes, Gayiyli knew, and she had to figure something out-- fast. Navigation indicated that she had emerged into an unoccupied expanse of space, but scanners showed a menagerie of varying-sized objects all around the ship. "An asteroid field? Not as bad as a sun, but..." She flipped the monitors from the underside view, reasoning that staring at the enemy craft wont help matters, and assigned each to a different direction into the cold void. What she saw filled her with hope, and horror. There was no asteroid field here after all. The disabled freighter blended seamlessly into a massive ship graveyard, a sea of ravaged vessels strewn about the cosmos. She didn't recognise any of the models of craft in various states around her. The hyperdrive was completely shot, leaving one option. The hatch opened with a pop, sucking Gayiyli out into the bleak scene. She tumbles and somersaulted over and over before stabilizing herself with a space-friendly propulsion pack. Small bursts of pressurized gas spat out into the yawning void, until she was under control. She stole one last glance at the bizarre union of ships, wondering what the sith soldier would do should it finish cutting into her vessel, only to find it unoccupied save a strill in a cupboard. There was no time for such ponderings, however. She could only hope that she wouldn't be spotted, slowly gusting toward the most intact vessel. It was an elongated craft, with two flat rectangular wings angled down from the top. An insignia was half destroyed on the blaster-scarred nose, but it seemed almost like an imperial symbol. The side appeared to have a slide-open hatch, but it was torn and rent on one side, exposing the inside to vacuum. Try as she might, Gayiyli could not force it open. Sliding under the peeled-back section, she carefully squeezed through the small opening, careful not to tear her flightsuit. Her beskar'gam was not designed for prolonged space exposure; her oxygen was at three quarters already, and the cold of space began to creep in. Inside the craft, Gayiyli witnessed a scene straight from a devaronian horror-holo. White armored humanoid figures floated randomly, bumping into one another, and off the walls, lifelessly frozen in time. Some were missing chunks of armor, others were without entire limbs. Gayiyli had to inspect a passing helmet, refraining from looking inside, to assure herself that these weren't in fact imperial stormtroopers. Much more to her dread, they seemed nearly to be plastoid-armored mandalorians. Black t-visors glared at her in the dim lighting from her headlamp. She shuddered, and made her way to the back of the craft. Along the way, she noticed what appeared to be a headless droid, slumped against a wall. Its body was a skeletal humanoid shape, covered by a faded brown cloak. Its shoulder bore an insignia different from that of the soldiers and the ship, a hexagon with each opposite corner connected by a line. Gayiyli cursed herself for not knowing galactic history better, and made her way to the back of the ship. The hyperdrive was ancient, and looked slightly damaged by whatever took out the ship and occupants, but it would certainly do the job. She quickly uninstalled the device, then moved back to the hatch to plant a small explosive, just big enough to get the hyperdrive out but not send the ruined shuttle careening into space. She stepped gingerly once more over the headless droid, into the wider area filled with the dead soldiers. She planted the charge where the hatch appeared to be most securely attached, stepped back, and pressed the button. Her helmet vibrated from the sonic detonation, but did not so much as cause her to flinch as the hatch was blasted away from the ship. Gayiyli checked her oxygen levels-- under fifty percent. Had to hurry. She peeked out the newly-widened portal toward her own ship, and noticed that the enemy vessel was no longer docked. Nothing for it, she decided. Maybe it flew away. She turned to retrieve the pillaged hyperdrive, when the droid in the corner stood abruptly. A glaring red light on its chest seemed to be looking directly at her, as the droid took one tentative step, then another, then reached for her with cruel-looking metal hands. |
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| Beviin | Oct 19 2010, 09:57 PM Post #3 |
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Diet Dew Fiend
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Space is quiet, in a certain frame of mind. Objectively, it is silent as the grave, and shares many other qualities. For one IG-100 magnaguard, it served for years as a cold cradle, free of the erosion of time. It sat forgotten, sharing a durasteel tomb with a cluster of bodies, from one angle of perspective, far more dead than it. The magnaguard lingered in its informal coffin, damaged but not destroyed, waiting for allies that had forgotten it. Systems powered down from disuse, processes went silent. A metal mind waited, unburdened by the weight of years. It waited. Then, for the first time in over fifty years, there was life aboard the deathly vessel. Proximity and temperature sensors awoke readily, as the day they had been installed. One by one, electrical nerves surged with renewed life, feeding an inquisitive brain unaware of the passage of the clock. IG-100: Online. Diagnostic... running... done. Systems 70% efficiency. Head Photoreceptors: N/A Chest Photoreceptor: Functional. Motivators: Functional. Objectives: 1Success of Confederacy 2Destruction of enemies to Confederacy 3Obey agents of the Confederacy The droid summed its resources in a matter of nanoseconds. Its head was missing, but no matter. It was unbothered but such trivial losses. It stood, testing each remaining limb, diagnostics assuring its central mind that it was no less functional despite the unknown passage of time. It turned, casting its photoreceptor over an unfamiliar figure, clad in armor with an all-too familiar T-visor. Memory scans first compiled data of the clone troopers it had despatched previously. They hung in the void now, all the better for comparison. There was discrepancy, but the droid knew it was not its place to conjecture the variety of the enemy. Objective 2: Destruction of enemies to Confederacy. The droid reached for the new figure, durasteel manipulators flexing, intent on punching through the soft flesh in between armor joints, just the smallest of holes to flood the enemy's system with vacuum. Magnetized feet clamped down on the metal floor of the disused ship, tentatively gaining ground on the enemy. Its systems continued to self-observe, matching the appearance of the intruder to known specimens. Reason circuits implied the being may be mandalorian, but the droid failed to recognize the style of armor definitively. If droids could feel anything resembling dismay, this magnaguard certainly would have, as its quarry boosted backward again and again, nimbly evading the cold metal embrace of death. However, the ship ended after but a few more feet, leaving the organic trapped. Steadily still, the magnaguard approached, carrying out its task with mechanical patience. The possible mandalorian squeezed behind the pilot seat, turning to apparently ponder escape via the transparisteel view port. The briefest of distraction was all the IG-100 required, immediately releasing th magnetic grip and lunging for its enemy. Its pincer-like hands closed around the helmet even as it snapped back to attention. The vice-like grip locked onto the dome, as inescapably powerful 'thumbs' pressed into the visor. There was nothing for a moment, then the tiniest of cracks as the droid slowly breached the weak point in the helmet. The owner thrashed uselessly against it, then paused for a moment, in which one symmetrical antenna angled forward, releasing a stream of small blaster shots. The cabin of the ship flashed and illuminated briefly, glowing red in the sea of black and steel-grey. The shots pinged and dispersed upon contact with the droid's durable body, but as a precaution, it swiveled its hands at the wrist joints, maintaining the fatal grip but turning the hapless victim upside down. From this new position, the droid could not help but notice the large insignia painted upon the back of its prey. Immediately its system recognized the symbol as that of the Eparavu clan of mandalorians. Within the next few seconds, several things happened at once. The droid's mind was flooded immediately with images, data, and new signals. The Eparavu clan, the droid's memory supplied, is an acknowledged comrade and co-belligerent to the Confederacy of Independent Systems. Personnel files opened, detailing known clan members and their contributions to the cause. The magnaguard, if it were capable of it, would be feeling a cold splash of dread, as it realized it was quickly robbing the life of an ally. Simultaneously, a notification flashing on the opposite side of the cracking visor indicated a complete absence of reserve oxygen. Then, drawn to the visual display like a moth to flame, the previously absent sith fighter made itself apparent by blasting away the rent hatch of the larty. Whatever the pilot's plans were from there, they certainly did not expect to be answered by a headless droid launching itself from one ship to another. The magnaguard flew through the macrocosm, (lack of) headfirst, latching onto the surprised sith ship. Magnetized limbs activated, and the droid began savagely ripping into the hull as the conjoined pair whirled and tumbled through space. Witnessing such a scene, one could feasibly forget that droids lack the capacity to vent a pent up need for violence. As this specimen clambered to the cockpit, it crouched to its knees and began pummeling the view port with metal fists. Were it nor for the soundless void of the stars, the air would be filled with the crunch of yielding transparisteel. The magnaguard put its manipulators together over its shoulders, and swung them down hard, punching finally through to the pilot. It wrenched its arms free triumphantly, bearing a sizable portion of the occupant. Vacuum took hold of the cockpit, and spewed red into the infinite black. Gayiyli Prudii Eparavu saw none of this, so intently focused on her ship through a thousand jagged windows. She used whatever gas was left in her suit, in conjunction with a feeble push from her legs, to begin a slow float toward the Binding Light . Her lungs screamed for oxygen, reflexively pulling at the atmosphere of her suit, seizing nothing. Her limbs began to tingle and lose sensation, and tears streamed down her bloodshot eyes. She stretched her arm pathetically, straining to reach the hatch, still yards away. She blinked her eyes, and almost forgot to open them again. Then, despite her eyes going wide, everything went black. |
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