Memoirs of Taran Sapret

Discussion in 'Chronicles' started by Taran, Jan 7, 2019.

  1. Taran

    Taran Character

    Old Empire
    Level 1

    Sith Acolyte
    OCC Account:
    Character Profile:
    Slavers are on my vessel. My vessel...Trandoshans. Blasted all. This is not good. They were waiting at the edge of the system. Is this another test?

    -Audio Recording Entry 1.1 - 500 ABC

    Taran's neck was bristled. His body was tense, barely holding the energy gathering from the inner eye. The Amaran's ears were forward, listening to the subtle hisses of the Trandoshans from each one. The left to his immediate right had a raspy tone from the scented smoke that offended his nose. Their weapons trained him, warning him to not make a single move. They knew what he was. "How much are they paying you?" The vulpine biped questioned, the hiss of Huttese decorating his Basic. The one detail he could never rid of.

    "Enough." The slavers' leader answered in his clicking tongue. "I hope it's worth what comes nex-" The Acolyte was inputting before the flaring of stun rounds flung. The rings flew and clashed against the wabbling egg of Force energy, the effort caused a scrunch in the Amaran's face before his shield exploded just as fast. The kinetic force slamming into his attackers hard enough to throw a few off their feet. They were experienced, the former slave recognized from the past hour of barely escaping the others in this chase.

    And in that, there was no leisure of a slow death.

    The closer of the six was already aiming, provoking the Sith to act. His animal instincts already moving him, a near blur to the natural eye and the flash of red a heartbeat's start. Boots slammed to the shoulders, the small weight perched while the stunner's head was already leaving its sizzling stump of a neck. With a better vantage point, Taran threw his hand in a dismissive flick that swung the falling scalp into another. In another motion of his hand, crackling bolts of lightning arched from black claws and slammed into the trapper's chest.

    Bandolier sparking and the whines of activated explosives. The dung-colored lizard widened his eyes, already snatching at his equipment and attempting to tug it off but the cruel smile on Taran's pale face was the last thing he saw before being engulfed into the blossom of plasma and sonic equipment. The waves of force rolling, taking two others with him and flung the Sith several meters back with the shimmer of his projected shield at his tail.

    "Hmph!" The grunt punched from his chest, the Amaran corrected himself before landing into a slide across the hanger floor. Already the hail of slug-bolts were chasing off him. Clever. One punched a groove into his covered pauldron, more than enough to spur him to move. The Trandoshans clicking and demanding the Sith's points to their score.

    Taran's heart was beating. His mind rolling like a horizontal tempest - the mixture of adrenaline, anger, disgust, desire spinning to a center he was digging for with the soft claw of exhausting from his shield's defense.

    Four remained, he could taste their anger and losing their primary objective to capture him. Good, Taran refuses to let them take him alive. I will not be a slave again...

    Gripping his shoto, the Amaran whirled through the air with a high-shrilled scream of rage. He allowed the tempest to explode. From his calm, the fury of the Dark Side roared and sent fire into his veins! The Trandoshans shouted out to move, trying to distance themselves and keep the pressure on their target; however, he was small and unbelievably nimble! With the threat of a blade that cut through most materials known to the galaxy, nevermind their hide and bone, it send a flare of chaos that the Sith acolyte took advance of.

    Coming for the closest trying to draw a warblade from its sheath, those thick claws couldn't grip the weapon fast enough before the arc of scarlet blade sliced the arm from the elbow up! The scream of late-responding pain loud in Taran's ears but he couldn't stop. His feet touched the crumbling body, spinning off the chest and already flipped off for the next Trandoshan in the same motion of carve a great portion of throat from his previous victim.

    The world around Taran was disorienting. The lightsaber form of Ataru was one of upmost energy and mobility, to stop is to die...and he wasn't going to stop. If it wasn't for the zero-g training, he would be lackluster at best. His training in the Force guiding him to the slightest disturbance, he felt the biting adrenaline and the unnatural lightness of complete surrender to it. He could only imagine what his enemy saw as he cut them down until a clawed fist beat him straight of the air with the cost of the offending limb!

    "Oof!" The hammering blow knocked the power and air from his body and lungs. The sickening spin of the world gave the Sith acoyte a groaning pause, only thing he was aware of is the floor under his trembling limbs and ears ringing from the blow. The suffering of breath caught the Sith in mild surprise, he felt a stinging pain...a rib was broken he believed.

    Trying to blink away the spinning room, Taran looked up with squinting eyes. The Trandoshan leader was coming on him fast, the glint of his short vibroblade flashing from the hanger's illumination. His hand reached for a missing lightsaber. A spike of panicking fear rolled in his throat! By the sheer force of will, the Amaran leapt out of the way with the slice of cloth from his sleeve.

    The weep of the cut wound rolling down his tattooed arm, the vulpine Sith glanced at it and heard the cruel sound of dry laughter. "I know those marks, little Slave. One of the Hutt's pets are we?" The leader mocked, flicking the sanguine off the edge and ugly sneering grin on that snout. "We'll enjoy cutting it off your flesh..."

    At the mention of 'we', Taran looked up from the sound of groaning weight and saw the last Trandoshan pouncing from the top of a shuttle!

    Too late to move again, the Sith shrieked out from the painful weight slamming on his back and immediately squirmed to escape the brute's tearing grapple. Claws biting at his toned muscles and clothes. "Y-you dare, scum! You dare touch me!?" he screamed, snapping an arm back to elbow the snarling maw clamping for his ear.

    The attack slammed straight into the rupturing of the lizard's eye, provoking a piercing scream and loosened grip just enough. Squirming himself around to see the Trandoshan clawing at his bleeding eye, Taran screamed hateful shrills as his small hands grabbed around the slaver's head with palms covering those eyes before letting all of his hatred flow into dark electricity. The arcs of pale lightning roaring into the scream, the intensity showing the spasming skeleton before it locked up and exploded away by a flight of rolling telekinesis.

    Panting from the new flow of exhiliration, Taran rolled backwards and lept to his feet. His legs were shaking. He couldn't let this battle continue anymore or he is done for. The Trandoshan knew that and realished it, a grenade already sent in mid-flight whilst his prey was handling his last pack-brother. The whining warning was more than enough for the Sith to know its purpose; sonic shrieker.

    Holding both of his hands out with his heart beating in fear, Taran heaved his mind forward with his fingers shaping a triangular roll of Force energy. In that brief moment, the force of a slug projectile slammed into his chest and sent his body tumbling back a meter. Fortunately, the explosion flung towards the ceiling with its high-frequencies rippling far from the sensitive ears. Now, there was the pain of a slug-round digging at his armored chest. Damnable creature took him in a split-attention.

    "You think you could defeat me, Little Sith?" The Trandoshan questioned, holding his smoking slugthrower rifle under his arm with its barrel aimed while holding his vibroblade in the other. "You are nothing but measly points to my scoreboard! I have killed many beasts and Sith for Imperial credits."

    "Now, you die on this little ship."

    Coughing a gobblet of bloody phelgm from his throat, the Amaran looked at his shaking hand with the blood staining it. "Y-yes...that we can agree..." His ears twitched at the tensing finger on the trigger. Only for the hiss of a lightsaber to make the Trandoshan spin around in the presuming of a second Sith. No, it was a whirling lightsaber coming for him. Ducking a milimeter from losing his head, the score-hunter was in the movement to kill Taran. His glaring eyes watched that the Sith passing and landed in a low graceful bow.

    Claw tensing and the slugthrower fired. The glare slowly dying and looked down, finding that he was looking at his own back. Neck cooking from a cleaved neck. In the horrid revelation, the body fell in two.

    A moment and Taran quivered, letting his weapon arm drop and lightsaber phase dead. "By...the Council...2B. M-medical...assistence. Now." He muttered, looking down at his collasped cuirass before slowly prying it off with a gasp of relieved air. The Sith Amaran's pain was rushing twofold, the energy dying away to fatigue and finally unconsciousness claimed him. His body shivering, losing himself to the void.​
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