Vance sat down on a side bench as Velira’s spider ship quietly flew through the desert towards their destination.
Behind them, a small army of Gutkurrs followed, controlled by Sirra’s concentrated efforts.
The rest of the crew were about preparing or resting until they reached…
“Brrrp, Brrrrp”
The front console, where the pale lady sat, began to chirp as the pink-skinned Sephi spun the Reynold’s slugthrower in his left hand.
“Guess that means show time soon doesn’t it Velira?” He then stood up, placing his free hand against the wall as he leaned a bit and gazed at the rest of the small crew.
“Are you all ready for sneaking in and taking down that karking son of a bantha bastard?”
“As prepared as possible,” Uka said, She had taken a seat near but still seperate from everyone else, but now stood up, arms in her sleeves and her saberstaff at her belt. “I’m ready to ensure this man harms no one else.”
The Gravewalker began its slow descent into the land. Its hull bent the light around it, drinking in the fading gold of the desert until it became little more than a ripple in the airy Long, articulated landing struts unfurled in silence, placing themselves with surgical precision as the cruiser slipped behind a towering dune, swallowing the ship whole from open sight. No engines thundered, as the arachnid legs of the vehicle steadied into a place. Only a low hum lingered for a fleeting moment, before even that faded.
Beyond the dune, the land stretched before them, into a sea of wind carved ridges and scorched earth. And rising from it, jagged and immovable, a mountainside silhouetted sharply against the horizon. Embedded within that stone face, was their target— A metallic structure, built directly into the rock of a mountain. Its shining surface caught what little light remained around them, as the day gave way into night. Inside the Gravewalker, a crimson glow reflected faintly across Velira’s gaze as she studied the structure through the ship’s tinted, eye shaped viewports.
Her attention lingered, not on the architecture… but on the premise of life within. The thought came quietly to her mind, but with weight. Feeding— Warmth, freshly extracted essence. Her fingers curled ever so slightly against the armrest, a controlled tension threading through her otherwise still form. Her hunger faintly stirred, and just as precisely, Velira pressed it down. Not in pure denial, but in control that had been carefully refined through the centuries. The sensation folded inward, locked away behind will and discipline. Her breath never faltered.
“Indeed,” was all she said to Vance with the faint, knowing curve of a smile held across her red lips. Only then did Velira rise. The motion was fluid, as she stepped from the pilot’s seat with quiet intent. At her command, the Gravewalker answered. The hatch slowly slid open, revealing that of the desert and cliff side beyond, where the structure awaited them. And somewhere within, so did their prey.
The whole time the ship had travelled across the desert, its newly acquired beastly escort in tow, Alex had stood by the hatch. With the impending approach to their target, he was fully in combat mode - while their intent was to get as far as they could without being noticed, it was inevitable that things would come to blows at some point and so he was ‘on.’ It was a stark contrast to how he had been during the briefing times and the rest of the trip so far; no little quips, no sarcastic retorts, very little talking at all. Even his body language had changed - to anyone who didn’t know better it would have looked as if a statue of a Mandalorian had stood in the ship.
As the ship began to settle and the hatch hissed open, the stillness broke. Without hesitation or a word, he dropped from the ship to the sands below, the matte black of his armor slipping like a shadow behind the dune as his twin blasters Honor and Glory sprung to his hands. The telemetry systems in his armor were on full sweep, scanning the nearby sands and the imposing cliffside for any signs of life or movement. Even if it were not hostile forces, disturbing innocent wildlife could give away their presence and he intended to avoid even that if possible. Crouched in the sands, he waited patiently, poised for the moment the gutkurrs were unleashed to begin his approach under cover of their distraction.
Vincent didn’t have words to say. He simply nodded at Vance. He pulled his helmet from the clip on his belt and put it on with a hiss. He tilted his head to the left and then to the right, cracking his vertebrae. As the hatch of the ship slid open, he walked towards it, stretching his arms one at a time in front of his chest. It was time to do what he did best.
Sirra was already descending down the ramp as the ship landed, her footfalls the only sound she had made the entire flight. Although not under immense strain, her features were creased in concentration, focused upon the hunting pack of Gutkurrs lurking behind the ship. They were awaiting there, motionless in the dust save for heaving gulps of air, fighting for breath after racing to keep pace with the Gravewalker. Even pacified as they were, Sirra could feel that killing urge thundering below her control; their instincts heightened by the adrenal surge of the run. She urged them forward, moving ahead of the ship and giving the others room to depart the insectoid vessel.
Time to make full use of them.
Sirra kept low as she left, moving away from where the Gravewalker squatted against the sand like an overgrown spider. They had approached the outpost from a low angle. Carved from the surrounding rocks, it was a harbour amid a sea of sand; fortified by metres of natural defenses. The Gravewalker had exploited that strength, keeping the cliff face of one side between the outpost and the approaching group. Normally Sirra would have reached out, testing the minds and number of souls which lurked within the walls, but she had no desire to turn any focus away from controlling the Gutkurrs. As she moved low over the dunes, keeping the still waves of sand between herself and the outpost, she pulsed commands to the hunting pack. Grunting and growling now, the reptiles edged forward, in a slow but certain pace toward the front of the ship, between it and the outpost.
Only once she was far enough away did Sirra stop. Coming to a halt, she rested on her stomach at the edge of one dune and raised her rifle; peering through the scope at the main entrance to the slaver’s bolthole. A broad doorway atop of stairs, well guarded, with one way in and one way out. Perfect.
Recalling her strength, Sirra withdrew her influence almost entirely from each beast’s mind and shunted it instead into another of her abilities. Space seemed to bend inward around each beast, before reasserting itself again, now with them gone. Then, within a stone’s throw of the outpost door, each Gutkurr blinked into existence. There was a howl from the largest beast, taken up by the others as they sent to work.
We have our distraction, Sirra sent telepathically to the others. I suggest we make use of it.
Meanwhile within the stronghold
Kervach Seytr leaned back in his chair, smiling wistfully. Things had been going well for him, the slave and illegal substance trading was booming and more clients were coming to him.
“Sargul the Hutt will be pleased to hear how well we are doing Avur.” The Corellian man smirked. “Because of our small operation, we have gotten almost triple profits coming in and we are receiving offers from other operators on Nar Shadda and Tattooine. And the best part is we are so fortified, hidden away and recluse enough that no one has been able to tag our location. We are virtually undetectable and impenetrable.”
Avur, a grey Twi’lek, sniffed and scoffed at Kervach as he stared at the man. “Sir, I think you give this stronghold too much credit. Just because no one has found us doesn’t mean they will. You remember what happened last time we tried to hold a camp on Ryloth.”
“Shut up Avur, it wasn’t my fault that SITH attacked the camp. I had losses too, my best slave..Vance was lost and it took me years to get back up to where I could build this. That half Sephi was so valuable. Hated to lose him, but it was me or him. He’s probably dead from being cut down by that Twi’lek female. Only saw her from a distance…but..” He shuddered. “She was terrifying, barely got out before she wrecked the place.” He then laughed. “If she only knew that we were still here, she would be livid, but I am prepared this time.
” He gestured to the other two guards on the second floor with slugthrower rifles in towers on opposite sides. One was a yellow-green Rodian and the other a pink Devaronian female with broken horns. “Jeyna and Stura, best snipers I have up in the towers, they shoot anything that comes up to the sealed steel doors that isn’t expected and with deadly accuracy.”
“And even if someone did get in, they will have to deal with Seyqua and her little nasties. Like I said Avur we are well defended here and then there is you. The master of blades and close combat fighting. I didn’t hire you just for your little comments about how much I trust this place. You aren’t gonna run are you?”
Avur glared at him. “I ain’t a coward, but I never just place my trust in a fortified building. Seen too many things, so I will stay skeptical. But because you do pay me I will protect you as long as I get my credits.”
“Yeah, yeah as long as we have slaves and drugs flowing, those credits will keep stacking.” He then touched a screen and opened a channel to the slave pens. “Suka, make sure the prisoners are cleaned up and fed. Today is a trade. One of our clients paid heavily for half of the slaves here and a crate of our finest deathsticks. Make sure the landing pad is clear and our slaves prepared for the transfer, got it!”
Suka nodded. “Aye will do.” He took out a vibro whip and cracked it against the pens holding several slaves. “You heard the boss, I want three of you right now, you are going to the baths to get cleaned up.” He then hit a button on one cell to open it up. “Let’s go NOW!” He cracked the whip menacingly close to the slave’s faces. “I won’t ask you to move again.”
Shuddering and trembling in fear, a human and two red Twi’lek females painfully clamored by the slavedriver, slave collars on their necks as they tried to walk swiftly towards the bathing room.
As Jeyna and Stura looked out towards the doors, suddenly they spotted a group of five gutkurrs charging the base. “Oh nine hells, what do they think they are doing!” replied Jeyna as she prepared to shoot. “Gutkurrs at the gates!” She shouted through her communicator.
With a loud cry the Gutkurrs charge at the doors and begin to slash at them.
As the chaos of battle ensued, Alex took a deep breath, steadying himself and reading the subtle ebb and flow of combat. The Gutkurrs were busy slamming into the door, a large and vicious distraction that would more than draw the eye away from a relatively small and dark shape sliding across the sand. With a nigh-inhuman burst of speed, the heavily armored form burst from behind the dune toward the rock wall. Cutting the sight lines from the snipers - using the fortified compound’s own natural defenses against it - the Mandalorian proceeded rapidly toward the facility itself, being sure to keep well clear of both the rampaging beasts and the sharp eyes of its defenders.
Trying to mimic Bograt, Vance attempted to run against the side of the wall as quietly as he could, unfortunately as he stopped a bit behind Alex, a rock loosened from the side wall and rattled a little as it clinked to the ground. Vance froze his eyes wide as he mouthed. “Sorry…” And stayed quiet.
Uka glanced nervously at Vincent and Velira.
“I’ll, uh, trail after them… to escort the prisoners,” she very much did not want to even think the word slaves, “Once the others find them.”
Without waiting for a reply she hopped down the ramp, and let herself sink into the familiar mindset she’d drilled so rigourously at the Temple Praxeum. Light bent around her, letting her vanish from view, and she quickly and quietly padded her way towards the chaos of battle.
A smile played about Sirra’s face as she watched the Gutkurrs get to work, already knowing the sheer panic which would be rising from within. Determined and hungry, it wouldn’t be long before the armoured doors bent inward under a rain of claws and teeth. That just left the other threats to deal with.
Sirra shifted her position, raising the scope of her rifle and skimming the upper section of the fortress. Movement shifted among the armoured towers along with a flash of colour, and Sirra picked out two figures. A long-snouted figure with a skin the colour of sulphur clouds, and a horn-headed shape with a vibrant pink complexion. Both were alert, raising thin long-barrelled weapons which glinted in the sunlight. The sort she had seen her sister use all too often for many years, hunting monsters and men alike along with their father.
Snipers, up high, Sirra warned, reaching out and broadcasting the words through the Force to the rest of the group. Two - a rodian and devaronian - carrying KiSteer 1284s. Scoped rifles, likely with armour penetrating rounds. They’re focused on the Gutkurrs for the moment.
Vincent watched as Draconis and the little Jedi left the safety of the ship. He smirked under his helmet as Sirra quickly pointed out two snipers. It was party time. With the press of a button on his armor he once again dematerialized.
He stepped down the ramp of the ship and followed behind the other two, making sure to stay close enough to Uka to give her a general uneasy feeling, but not so close as to appear threatening. The others were focused on getting the slaves out. That was their plan and it was a necessary one, but Vincent hadn’t come here to save; he had come here to punish. All he needed was a way into the building.
Velira lingered for a moment, her long crimson nails tapping softly in measured thought as her companions moved ahead. Then, without warning, she advanced forwards. Her form lowered into a smooth, predatory crouch, each motion controlled as she swept forward, dissolving into shadow. The black and red of her cloak trailed behind her, as her glowing crimson gaze tracked each movement of the guards.
One of them, a Rodian female, shifted. It was subtle, with the slight turn of the head. Velira stilled at once, her body going motionless. And then she smiled. It came slowly, curling across her blood red lips with a quiet, knowing look that never quite reached her eyes. The look in those remained cold. Hungry.
Velira’s mind reached out, unfurling from her consciousness like a blade of silk, gliding soundlessly through the space between them until it found its mark. The Rodian’s thoughts offered little resistance, much to her pleasure. Velira slid inside with practiced ease, coiling through the guard’s mind, exploring without permission and without hesitation.
Genya. The guard’s own name was the first thing that surfaced. Velira lingered, then pressed deeper. Desire greeted her next… Raw, unrefined, and gnawing. Death sticks. The very craving pulsed through Genya’s mind in a desperate ache that never truly quieted. Velira brushed against it lightly, savoring the way it trembled beneath her touch, how easily such a thing could be manipulated. Then, she found something more… A fixation, carefully hidden, but no less potent.
Kervach, The Captain, the male who was the primary object of Genya’s desires. A quiet yearning clung there— hopeful and fragile. But it did not stand alone … Jealousy had taken root beside it. Jealousy directed to the other guard, the one standing just at her side, with her shining hair and radiant smile. It was not Genya, but her, who was the object of the Captain’s affections. It was she who the Captain gazed at with warmth in his eyes… Never Genya.
Velira coiled into the heartache that lurked within the female’s mind. She let her presence settle, wrapping gently around those thoughts, until they could no longer distinguish themselves from her influence. When she spoke, her voice came in that of a gentle purr.
“He will fall in love with her, dearie… But you can fix that,” Velira whispered into her thoughts delicately, ensnaring around them and placing the idea there. “You know what you must do…”
The suggestion burned through the female’s very mind . It threaded itself through jealousy, through that desperate need to be seen and chosen… until it felt inevitable. Genya’s breath caught as she gazed at the other guard, at her smooth skin and soft smile. And then, she acted.
The Rodian drew her slug thrower in one sharp, trembling motion, turning it toward the guard beside her with sudden clarity. A shot split the air in a violent crack that shattered the silence— The round tore through flesh and bone, obliterating the other woman’s head in a sudden burst. Blood sprayed outward in a thick arc, drenching Genya in crimson, followed by the fleshy fragments of what had once been her companion. What little remained of the body crumpled to the ground, in one swift motion.
And though Velira certainly did not relish the waste of perfectly good life essence… For those who were slavers, she could make the rare exception. She lingered within Genya’s mind for only a heartbeat longer in the aftermath. “Good girl…” Velira whispered slowly within her thoughts. “Now he will be yours.”
And just like that, she was gone. Velira withdrew seamlessly, her presence slipping free without leaving so much as an echo behind…. Only the carefully woven memory that this act had always been one of Genya’s own choosing.
Velira rose then. She stepped forward, her posture returning to its natural, composed elegance as she rejoined her companions. “How… fortunate,” Velira said smoothly with a faint gleam in her crimson eyes, “It would seem that our path has… cleared itself.”
Vance nodded quietly impressed at her work. Meanwhile the Rodian shook her head as she looked at the dead guard. She then smiled. “Serves you right, Bitch.” She then spat and aimed for the gutkurrs. “RIght, these fracking things again…”
Blackhawk snuck behind Velira. The Rodian in the tower didn’t get a chance to shoot. Blackhawk, aware of the sniper in the tower, was not willing to deal with them firing upon him or those he arrived with. He needed to be in the tower, and so, with the blink of an eye, he was.
The Rodian never stood a chance. The Clawdite’s lightsaber came to life directly through the sniper’s waist, carving a path directly through it’s skull. With the sniper dead, Blackhawk looked around, looking for other groups of enemies to let loose the automatic blasters contained within his gauntlets upon.
Having smelled the scent of blood in the air, the gutkurrs give a loud cry and turn around to look towards the rocks. Still hidden, the gutkurrs cannot see anything, however their sense of smell tells them something fleshy is out there. Hunt, find, eat! They start to turn from the door to search the rocks for food.
Seeing the beasts turn away from the gates, Alex closed his eyes to center himself for a moment. From their movements they clearly didn’t quite know yet where the folks outside were, but it was only a matter of time before they found them. They needed to be inside the gates and fast - both to avoid becoming a hot meal, and because it was only going to take so long before the forces inside realized their gate guards were no longer.
“Alright folks,” he subvocally drawled into the comms unit worn beneath his helmet, “we have overcome the first hurdle. Now as I see it, we have two main things to accomplish, and a few steps to take to make them happen. We need everyone who works here dead, and everyone trapped here alive and out. First, if we can find a way to open these gates, our lives are gonna be much easier escaping with the prisoners. …And I suppose getting inside for those of us that do not have some sort of clever trick.”
As he spoke these words he turned and began deftly scrambling up the wall with an agility that belied the weight and heft of a man of his size in armor so bulky. His actions and his words seemed to carry an ancient and powerful weight behind them, and those on the receiving end could feel themselves bolstered and focused by his speech.
“We should not expect everything we are about to encounter to go quite so easily as those tower guards did, but…I daresay we have now shown we are more than capable to meet the task before us.”
Vance again hugging the wall tried to make his way quietly again as he stepped out towards the middle of the rocks to move closer to the gates. He then accidently stepped on some tumbleweed. Cursing inwardly, he held his breathe as the gutkurrs began sniffing and listening. Thankfully they were not quite close enough yet to him to smell, hear or see him. He was safe, for now.
Uka saw Vance attempting to hide from the gutkurrs. Holding her breath, she picked up a stone from off the ground and and through it at the head of one, trying to lure it away from Vance’s location.
As she threw the first stone, it sailed beautifully through the air actually whizzing past and striking the opposite cliff wall far away from the gates, three of the gutkurrs began to give chase to the rock and ran away from the gates. As Uka tried to throw a second rock, it accidently struck one of the two gutkurr’s left, right in the face, cause it to shriek horribly.
Before the situation could spiral into a bloodbath, Sirra reached out through the Force and snatched hold of each Gutkurr once more. There was no stiffness or sudden shudder in their motions as she controlled them again, but the group turned in unison and began slamming against the door. The sound of muscles strong enough to rip a human in half being put to work resounded across the area, as teeth, claws, and sheer physicality in a frenzy of motion. As tight a hold as she had over their minds, she could feel their hunting fury now. The scent of blood and violence had sent them into a feeding frenzy, ready to kill and consume anything in sight. That included both those they were trying to save and the team itself.
To Sirra that made their task a simple one - Have the creatures tear down the door and go in first. Take the brunt of any counter-attack or trap waiting for them, and keep going until they finally fell. Better a violent end fighting their enemies than to have them turn on the group. Over the following few heartbeats she heard the noise of rending metal and the sounds of the door starting to bend under the assault. A short while longer and they would have their way in.
As the Gutkurrs pounded on the door, ripping their efforts tripped the silent alarm against the door. Kervach’s communicator went off, indicating the front door was being breached.
“The nine hells is going on!” He shouted as he went to the surveillance room. Tapping a few buttons, he saw the snipers nowhere to be seen. “What the hell, DAMMIT! Avur, get Seyqua and get to the main hall, we apparently have some unwanted company. He then turned to his wrist communicator. “SUKA, we have a breach, if they punch through, kill the slaves except the ones for the transfer immediately.”
Vincent watched as the Gutkurrs ripped and slashed at the doors, but he was growing impatient. Surely those inside were aware of the situation by now. They were wasting time. Though no one could see him, he turned his head to Sirra and spoke.
“Pull the Gutkurrs away from the door… at least 20 meters… the rest of you, stay back… we need in, now.”
He watched as the Gutkurrs pulled back, marching away from the entrance to the facility. The Sith weaved around them and approached the damaged, but still standing door. He reached to his back and unhooked a medium sized cylinder from his armor. He placed the cylinder at the base of the door. With his right hand he turned a dial, setting a timer to the number labeled “15”. With his left hand, he flipped a switch on the side of the device. A devilish smile crossed his face as a red light began glowing at the top of the Proton Charge.
The Sith turned and scuttled away from the door, counting down in his head from 15. Just as he reached the cliffs again he counted 3. 2. 1.
A huge explosion rocked the ground beneath them all as fire, stone, and metal flew into the sky behind him. As he approached the group, he spoke once more.
“That ought to get us in. Sirra… get those Gutkurrs in there… everyone else… you know what time it is.”
He watched as the Gutkurrs turned back to the now gaping hole that was the entry to the facility and began to make their way inside.
The shockwave rolled through them, heat licking at her pale skin as fire and debris tore the entrance apart. Her senses sharpened in anticipation, poised for the premise of her next meal.
Slavers. Her tongue dragged slowly across her lips, almost unconsciously, as the thought settled in. Life essence… rich and ripe for the taking. It coiled at her senses, and for a brief moment, her focus wavered.
The kukri blades at her sides lifted, in the quiet curl of her will as both weapons rose into the air, hovering at either shoulder in the shape of poised fangs. With a sharp flick of intent, she sent them hurtling forward. They cut through the smoke fast, but not with her ordinary sense of precision, as hunger tugged at her senses. The blades missed. Velira stilled, with a soft hiss of annoyance.
The hunger remained, and yet now it sharpened into something colder. Her crimson eyes narrowed, locking onto the creature’s movements in predatory focus. The kukris drifted back into place at her sides, hovering once more.
This time, Velira waited for the precise moment to strike. The creature shifted in her vision, and she advanced. The blades launched forward with lethal precision, cutting through the air, until they met flesh. The first kukri drove into a thick tentacle, tearing in with a wet crunch. The second followed in a vicious arc along the same limb, carving into the sinewy flesh.
Her voice came soft, almost thoughtful in observation, as she watched the lylek bleed. “Better.”
KABOOM! Blackhawk heard the tell tale beeping of an explosive beyond the door. No doubt rigged to kill whoever opened it. The Clawdite tried to throw it into the unseen space beyond with the Force. The door disappeared. Luckily, Blackhawk was able to avoid the explosion uninjured. He ran into the hallway, and the room led to. His gauntlets sights revealed the beast on the other side of of one closed door. Through the other, he saw two targets. He took aim, and fired his wrist mounted Dur-24s. The Transdoshan standing beyond the wall crumpled to the ground, dead. It’s partner hissed, eyes widened in surprise.
The remaining wall disappeared beneath the hands and feet of the climbing Mandalorian as if he were walking on a plain, flat floor. Without issue he scaled the rest of the tower and made his way through the blown-open door to find a scene of carnage and pending violence. Without skipping a beat his twin blasters Honor and Glory leapt to his hands, bearing down straight on the remaining Trandoshan with the slight hum and glow of a partially depressed firing stood.
“I would not if I were you,” Alex said, his normal jovial drawl now cold and even, “unless you were looking to rapidly join your friend.”
Hearing the Lylek’s scream, Vance’s violet eyes focused,
No fear, just action.
He stepped just near the door pulling Vangwë-mórë from his back and drew it out. As he looked through the scope, he focused his aim towards the Lylek’s head and adjusted the angle slightly.
Through the scope, he could see the monster’s head in full view.
“Smile, you son of a karking whore!”
He pressed the trigger and fired a single loaded, but powerful shot from his slugthrower.
Silence, save the sound of the Lylek and trandoshan hissing at Bograt, the bullet sailed directly into and out of the back of the Lylek’s head, splitting it.
Viscera and blood spewed everywhere as the Lylek collapsed into a putrid smelling heap, its tentacles still wriggling wildly in death throes.
The Lylek was dead.
Vance then relaxed his body again, lowering the gun. He turned to Velira, Uka and Sirra winking and giving a slight nod.
“The way is clear, after you ladies.”
Wordlessly signing her thanks, Sirra scurried to her feet and raced forward over the dunes. Keeping low and scanning the rooftops for any sign of movement, she didn’t halt until she reached others bunched up near the main door. The Gutkurrs had done their job, charging in and dying to what awaited within. Their end had been a bloody and violent mess, turning the interior into a charnel house, as was typical of their species; even so Sirra had wished they had lasted a little longer.
Approaching the outpost, Sirra reached out into the aether, searching for any lifesigns beyond. If there were troops waiting inside or even massed groups of people, it would at least give them some map to follow or chokepoints to disrupt. The image she gained was less than promising. A fog of victorious elation and self-certainty seemed to hover close by, matching the thoughts of Alex and Blackhawk. This was paired with surprise from another consciousness, and as Sirra covered the door, she caught sight of the back-end of a Trandoshan half visible at a turn in the corridor.
No immediate hostiles sensed, Sirra pulsed to the others, keeping her rifled raised and covering the battered ruin of the main door. Move in now before they can muster a response.
Vincent watched as the battle began to unfold. They had gained entry, and it was officially time to do what he did best. He still had his optical camouflage activated, so he was mostly invisible to the naked eye, only transparent waves silhouetting his body appeared when he moved a bit too quickly. Now would be one of those times.
He sprinted into the facility through the hole his proton charge had left behind. He entered the hallway and noticed two doors, one on either side of the hall. He also spotted what looked to be the backside of a Trandoshan down the hall. The Trandoshan could wait, he wanted to find the slaves, and that meant clearing the facility, room by room.
After a moment of thought he decided to try the left door first. It was locked, but it was a simple mechanical lock. That was plenty easy to deal with. He reached to his side and pulled the hilt of Hellfire into his right hand. He placed the hilt against the lock and then quickly snapped on and then off his saber blade not even allowing the full blade to extend. He heard a clang and the door loosened. He smirked beneath his helmet.
As slowly and as quietly as he could, he pushed the door open. As he peaked inside he saw a Zabrak woman, staring directly where he was… but she couldn’t…
”Oh druk, another Force user” he thought to himself.
In front of her were three Vornskyrs. As the door opened they turned and growled at the invisible man, having smelled his presence immediately. The Zabrak cackled. She was a monster of a woman, built like a mixture of professional bodybuilder and a model. Her eyes almost glowed yellow. Her skin was crimson and her hair black, Her face was covered in traditional black Zabrak tattoo patterns. Before he could take in any more about her, Vincent heard the inevitable.
Snap-hiss and then another snap-hiss
A red double bladed lightsaber screamed to life. She winked at the man that she couldn’t possibly see physically, but very much saw with her connection to the Force. Vincent knew the fight was inevitable, so he pushed the door the rest of the way open and entered the room, never disengaging his camouflage.
“Aww, seems someone would like to join us. Want to play with me?” she said.
With a wave of her hand the door slammed closed behind Vincent and the room began to quickly darken. An orb of blackness started at her hand, but quickly expanded until the entire room was pitch black. Vincent couldn’t even see the HUD on the eye pieces of his armor.
He pointed his right arm to where the Zabrak had been standing and quickly yanked back on his lanvarok. It let out a POP! and though Vincent couldn’t see it, he knew that a weighted net had flown across the room and towards the Zabrak. An instant later he felt the heat of fire as the net’s hidden trick took effect. Accelerant shot out of the weights on the net and with a click, sparks ignited it.
Vincent didn’t hear screams. He had missed, but there was fire. That would be useful. He still held Hellfire in his right hand. Quickly he reached for Brimstone with his left. The blades screamed to life, but he couldn’t see the blades.
“WE HAVE A SITUATION!” the Sith screamed towards the door, hoping anyone of the team was close enough to hear him.
He heard the growls of the Vornskyrs as they began to approach and the cackle of the Zabrak in a different location than where she had stood before.
Velira advanced, crimson eyes narrowing slightly beneath the shadowed hood of her cloak. Firelight flickered across the floor from Vincent’s burning net, casting restless reflections along the walls. Her crimson gaze tracked Vornskyrs that prowled low around them, watching through the darkness.
The Anzat slipped soundlessly through the doorway, and the creature’s focus snapped onto her. Three pairs of predatory eyes locked onto her at once, growls rumbling through the darkness before they lunged in unison. Claws slashed toward her from three separate angle, only to be met with a crimson barrier flared to life around Velira’s body.
The first strike scraped against her shield. The second glanced away moments later, followed by the third, each impact rippling scarlet light across the surface of the energy field. Velira squared her shoulders defensively. The Zabrak woman’s grin widened, yellow eyes gleaming with amusement as she tilted her head. “Fiesty one you are,” she purred. “I like you.”
Her lips curved faintly at the edges. Then she moved, in one swift motion. She glided forward across the chamber floor, cloak trailing behind her like a shadow as one pale hand disappeared to withdraw. A shock collar flashed into view alongside a pair of stuncuffs. The collar snapped outward toward the woman’s throat, but the Zabrak moved just as quickly.
With a sharp laugh she twisted aside, her spinning blade knocking the restraints away before they could lock into place. The Zabrak wagged a finger teasingly, grin widening further. “Now what did I just say about trying to cage and arrest me?” she cooed, with a blown kiss to Velira. “That’s not very nice, miss pretty pale lady… I am impressed you did try, though.”
For the briefest moment, Velira simply stared at her. Then a slow smile spread across the Anzati’s crimson lips— cold, elegant, and distinctly predatory.
Slowly, she stepped backwards through the darkness, crimson eyes never leaving the Zabrak woman. The red glow of her shield faded from around her body as she lowered herself into a prowling crouch, posture fluid with the movement. Hidden beneath the smooth planes of her pale cheekbones and the dark curtain of her hair, subtle movement stirred… proboscises shifting instinctively beneath smooth skin, in anticipation of a delectable meal.
Meanwhile. back near the Slave pens “Understood, Kervach, Suka out.” The Mirialan man smiled gleefully. He always did enjoy the screams of slaves before their demise and now to get the three slaves up to the second floor for transferring. He pointed at the Human, and two Twi’lek females now cleaned up in nicer clothes, but cuffed with collars on. All three trembled and cowered as he raised his vibrowhip and cracked it. “Let’s go, NOW!” Shaking in fear, they obeyed and shuffled out towards the stairs, going up to the landing pad on the second floor.
He didn’t see the slaver merchant’s vehicle yet. “Damn fool must be a bit late.” He looked at the slaves on the stairs. “Wait there and don’t move, or I promise to make it hurt more.” Not daring to challenge the slavemaster, they just huddled together and waited silently on the stairs as Suka moved out to the middle of the landing pad.
He narrowed his gaze a bit, looking at the sky, and he swore he could see something. “Huh, finally making it, about damn time.”
The lylek let out a final scream as it died. Blackhawk left the remaining Transdoshan to Alex’s tender mercy as he ascended to the rooftop.
Landing Pad. That’s probably where the slaver scum will try to run to.
The Clawdite wouldn’t allow them to leave. Not without dealing with him first at the very least. He hopped, braced against a wall, and launched himself… downward. Gravity changed direction, propelling Blackhawk directly towards the landing pad instead of the ground. Blackhawk rode the fall like the pro he was, having used this trick many times, over much larger distances.
Four targets. No. Mirialan with a vibrowhip. Three probable slaves. Draw . Flip. Point. The slaver scum turns. Seems to sense the rapidly approaching danger. Too late.
Snap Hiss_
Thump
Blackhawk landed on the slaver, his lightsabers piercing through the air ahead before becoming embedded in the surprised Mirialan. The slaves jumped back, surprised.
At the callout from the other room, Alex cocked his head lightly toward the Trandoshan. “Sorry,” he said as he calmly depressed the firing stud on Honor. “In the next life, try to choose better friends.” There was no reply from the body which dropped to the floor, crowned by a smoking stump that had been a head mere seconds before.
Cutting out into the hallway and around through the door, the first thing that struck the Mandalorian was the field of darkness pervading the room. It was clearly unnatural, but there was little he could do about that. He deftly swapped his readouts over to a telemetry view, scanning the room through the use of his sensors and telemetry equipment. Several pings lit up immediately and without a second thought he brought both blasters to bear and fully opened up.
“A little bit of darkness and you get run down by a malnourished dog?” His voice rang out as the decimated corpse of a Vornskr dropped at Vincent’s feet. “What, do you not spend your credits on anything worthwhile?”
<@466040899970007041>
Vincent smirked beneath his helmet. Any other time, he might be furious at such a taunt, but he earned that one and he was glad to have more back up.
“Careful.” he quickly advised. “Unless Vornskrs have learned to harness the Force, we have bigger problems.”
Upon hearing Vincent shout, Vance dashed up to the blackened doorway. Stopping suddenly because he couldn’t see anything.
“Well karking nine hells, Vincent. You certainly know how to cause a big distraction. ” He then pulled out Alva Run'ya from his holster. “All right love, do what you do best.” As he moved into the blackness, the weapon pinged two targets consistently moving. Taking aim at one of them, Vance fired twice.
“Rawwwrrrrawwwrro!”
Then came a collapsed thud of a body dropping. From where Velira was, she watched as the magenta colored half Sephi’s slugs pierced through neck of the vornskyr ripping everything organic in its pathway to hamburger, spraying arterial blood everywhere as the middle vornskyr collapsed, leaving now just one left. Vance grinned in the dark.
“Thank you Alva, never failed me yet.”
Uka felt her insides clench and twist; the chaos around her had shattered any sense of calm or control, and for the moment it was all she could do to keep herself from hyperventilating.
Find the prisoners, she told herself, the thought bordering on panic, an anchor in a storm. Find the prisoners. You don’t have to fight anyone today, leave that to the… to the Sith. Find the prisoners.
She kept her cloak around herself as she bolted away from the mad melee that had consumed the room ahead of her, dashing silently in the direction she thought Sirra had gone.
Over Here
Uka froze in her steps. What had that been? For a second, it felt like the Force had rung like a clear bell, before being drowned again by the storm raging around her. Her eyes were drawn to a long corridor.
Over Here it rang again.
It wasn’t the direction her allies had gone. She couldn’t say with any clarity what had been there on the map.
And yet, her feet turned, almost without her input, and began to move down that corridor.
As the shots from Vance punctured the Vornskyr, Vincent for a brief moment saw the last Vornskyr. Quickly he memorized the location before blackness enveloped the spot again. He could still feel the heat radiating from his net burning in the corner of the room. He took a deep breath in and focused on the flames, grabbing them with his mind and tossing them onto the Vornskyr.
He heard a loud shriek of a scream from the beast as the fire began to consume it. The stench of burning fur instantly filled the room. The Sith smirked.
Using the sound of the cries as his guide, he pull Hellfire back and darted it into the flaming creature. He felt the resistance of the blade digging into the Vornskyr. With one quick, upward jerk the canine dropped to the floor, dead. Vincent only wished that he could see his handiwork.
Velira’s crimson gaze locked onto the Zabrak through the chaos of flashing blasterfire and writhing shadows. The Anzati woman remained calm as one pale hand lifted slightly, her fingers curling inward in a beckoning gesture. “Come here,” she purred to the woman, her voice smooth and laced with tendrils of the Force. “Kneel.”
The command coiled outward, subtle and invasive, to press against the woman’s thoughts with practiced precision. And yet, it met resistance. As Velira’s smooth, velvety words tried to ensnare their way into her mind, the Zabrak glared fiercely back, lips twisting into a sneer. “My body and my mind is my own, little charmer. No one owns me!”
Silence answered her…. Velira did not retort back, did not threaten, or even so much as blink. She moved swiftly through the shadows. One instant she stood beneath the fractured light— then suddenly, she was gone, dissolving into fluid movements.
The strike came without warning. Velira slipped inside the Zabrak’s guard in a blur, her motion precise. Rather than strike for the throat or chest, two pale fingers drove sharply into the inside of the woman’s forearm, targeting a vulnerable nexus of nerves just above the wrist with a physician’s sense of knowledge. Pain shot through the Zabrak’s arm, and muscles seized in response. The weapon tore free from her hand and spun across the floor, skidding away into the darkness with a metallic clatter.
Velira flowed past her rather than stopping directly before her, emerging low at the woman’s flank in a poised crouch. Her cloak settled around her like spilled ink. Beneath the pale skin of her cheekbones and concealed by the dark curtain of her hair, faint movement stirred… proboscises shifting restlessly beneath the surface, in restrained anticipation.
“I’ve had enough of these little sharts.”
The door beside Seyqua opened and two grenades landed in the room, everyone had been preoccupied and couldn’t react. As they hit the ground, the room exploded in a bright explosive chaos…
Avur stood a distance from the door, laughing. “Idiots.“
As the smoke cleared and blackness disapeared, Seyqua was nothing, but a pile of ash. As he turned around…
"What the Nine Hells! Just who are you people? Can’t you just die!”
There coiled beside Vincent now visible was an almost six foot, four armed serpent.
The barrier she had used just before the explosion spared everyone, except seyqua. The force of the grenades shattered it completely. She smiled weakly at Vincent her body spent from keeping them alive.
“Well hello handsome. Nice to see you again.” Syk coughed as she grinned. “I hope I wasn’t being too interrupting.”
Ignoring the sounds of violence from the room nearby, Sirra raced further into the outpost. The steel walls already reeked of those ever presence scents of the battlefield, viscera and ozone hanging thick in the air, along with the tang of charred flesh. Old lessons were already taking over, focusing the instincts which had long kept her alive. As Sirra swept through the outpost the voices of old mentors emerged in her mind.
Breach, hunt, engage. Leave them no time to respond. Strike your targets, do not become bogged down in singular fights. Cold and fast.
Easier said than done.
Silent save for the quiet chain-rack of charging up her rifle’s shotgun mode and low bass hum the plasma cells thundering into life, Sirra passed by one corner after another, sweeping and tracking for movement. Nothing answered her movement, not guards, not traps, or even a surprised repair droid. Yet she could feel something nagging at her. Not the sense of danger or walking into a trap, something pulling at her mind, guiding her deeper into the base. She kept moving for over a minute, making a direct run deeper into the facility without opposition. She was about to turn about and sweep another section of the outpost when something gave her pause.
The door Sirra had stopped before seemed like any other so far - Time worn and built for rugged survival, with the first creeping fingers of corrosion reaching about the edges of its frame. Yet there was something else playing at the edge of her senses. Sirra uncoiled her mind and reached out through the Force. What awaited her on the other side felt like a void. An abyss of emotion, black and all consuming, without end or release. There was a silent unending scream in the void, born from multiple voices, a shape crafted by a mix of potent agonies and sorrows.
Sirra checked about her again, and then telepathically reached out to the minds beyond the door.
Hello? I can hear you. Who are you?
The answer that game was blunt, tinged with pain, but unfocused. Sirra concentrated, reaching through the haze of exhaustion and mental fatigue, finding a singular message within it.
Please don’t lash us! We are slaves to Kervach. Locked up tight in cuffs.
Sirra was reaching for the security blades at her belt, ready to breach the door when there was a flurry of motion to her left. She half turned in time to see Uka bolting past, a determined focus leading her forward. The door slid open with a grinding metallic clank and she disappeared inside. Sirra watched and then, from beyond the door the Padawan ran inside, heard the distant chink of metal cuffs.
Sirra took a long look at the open door, and then silently took off after Uka, doing her best to stay hidden as she shadowed the Jedi.