Impact! Missing on Caluula...

[Baobhan]

'Do Robots Dream of Electric Sheep?'​

... Hastur had been waiting for what felt like a lifetime, the dull ticking of a primitive antique time keeper had felt like it had been slowing down incrementally minute by minute to a low droning where seconds had felt like minutes, and minutes felt like hours. Until eventually, the door sprung open, Hastur sharpened his attention on the entrance to see that it was yet another simple patron entering the hotel with a mistress linked to his arm. To his knowledge, neither of them had been seen by their many enemies which stalked the streets like feral cats in hunt of errant mice strewn about their home. The dreary sight and sound of rain combined with the exhaustion of the days events hit the young boy with a wave of tiredness and fatigue, his mind slipping as his eyes grew heavy. Barely able to keep them open by the time that Sigal opened the doors to the establishment, as she would spy men and women crowding the foyer... With the world as a blur, Hastur would spy the familiar colour pattern of his ally

'could it be..?'​

“Sigal?” Hastur would speak aloud as he would rub his eyes, groggily standing from where he had been sitting to make his way over to her, removing his hands from his face, cocking his head upward to meet her eyes. “Are you ok? Were you followed? What should we do now?” He would ask the questions one after the other not allowing her to answer until he had finished. With his eyes clear he would observe her to see if she had come under any additional harm, though it did not seem so, a couple extra grazes and scratches which he likely did not catch before. She seemed solid, but, there was more to the scenario, something was wrong, she had seen something that Hastur hadn't. Hastur in turn would open up his painters palette of emotions, looking over them like colours in order to paint a tapestry of complexity rivaling Michelangelo. Worry, freight, fear and hope shining in his eyes in a subtle manner would wash over his face, gradually fading in as the tiredness would fade as he looked to his protector for guidance.

'Like a lost puppy... How could he be denied?'​

... Hastur was a simple child, his ears awaiting a response he would likely agree with the next move regardless of what it was so long as it would push them into action, the longer they stayed anywhere, the greater the chance they had of being found. Not only that though, they needed to escape the planet and attempt to get another one that was within friendly boarders. Perhaps as payment for the information they were holding, so, that trade would have been performed easy enough... Their attackers could not simply shoot down every ship that was attempting to leave the city, because of simply how massive it was... a single assault corvette would not be a powerful enough ship to hold off a veritable pirate armada that would rise up against it, ripping it to shreds under the weight of dozens of pirates who had fought against authority figures since they were old enough to grip a blaster hilt.

But they had no idea how close the hounds had crept.​

... The market district nearby, had been where Hastur had been made and lost, the information relayed to the silver knight, bringing his forefinger and thumb to the underneath of his chin, he would call for a soldier whom was holding a holomap of the area, overlooking it he could chart the direction that they seemed to be moving in approximately from their point of entry into the area. Leading to the red light district... Having the ability to sense objects of the force, he could not sense aything from the case that they were covering, the Jedi obviously had not been to this sector before, or their searches with people would have picked something up before-hand. The Jedi had to lay low, the red-light district was littered with locations where that would be possible, but they were not completely unpredictable... There was always a pattern to the Jedi, forged and cemented by the uniformity of their training.

Learning that pattern, meant everything.​

​

... Hastur would point to the home that was on his own map, the subtle pyramid shape making it stand out among the homes around it, the proprietor of the den was the contact they were looking for. “Our contact is just outside of the northern industrial district between the CBD and the outskirts, the broker there is the guy who we can trust to spread the information to others quickly. He'll make a nice profit and we'll get what we need from him... but.” he thought aloud. “we have to get by all those men without attracting too much attention. The house is about fifteen minutes if we take the most direct route from here... we're so close.” Hastur somewhat whined, speaking lowly so that others around them were not capable of hearing the conversation clearly, purposefully muffling his voice though not quite whispering as he attempted to devise a plan of action, ready and willing to go by anything that was set out before him...

...​

... Jedi new to any area were all the same... they would seek out a person to gain information from, the case they held didn't hold a force signature, so it was likely money or payment of some kind. The world was bordering sith space, so they had to be performing some aid operation here... The pieces of the puzzle were beginning to align... a sly grin would warp the beings face beneath his void black mask as he would signal for his men to follow suit, pointing to several targets on the map around the red light district, leaving a path to the north east less guarded than the others... he would lead a small team with himself in that direction, nearing the northern most district. All the while, the rest of them would spread out. Marking down his location, the chromatic soldier would zoom the holomap in on a single building, triangular in nature, it was the home of a famed information broker in the area, well known by the inhabitants of the world... could it all be so simple?

The simplest answer, was often the right one.​

 

[Pam0wl]

​

'How could I dream a nightmare so foul…when I’m not even asleep yet?’
​

Sigal entered the establishment with a quick shut of the door, scrupulously ensuring that she was not followed soon after. Only once she had confirmed the integrity of her journey did she advert her eyes and seek out those of Hastur. She fought hard to keep the slither of relief from creeping into her expression. With a slight, subtle inclination of her head, she gestured from Hastur to follow her as she collected the access card to their reserved room. She ignored the snickers of customers loitering in the halls; no doubt they thought Hastur was acquiring her ‘services’ for the night, regardless of his age. With haste, she waited until they were in the confines of their allotted room before she began to vocalise the -limited- options they had left. She discarded the makeshift disguise she had fashioned from the shawl and optical visages, seeming relieved to be rid of them. Though she would have loved nothing more than to refresh herself and escape this growing nightmare, Sigal knew neither was valid option. They had to press on and quickly. Edging near the window, she glanced out at the streets below.

‘The net was tightening.’
​

“Our enemy has numerous ground forces scouring the city; far more than we anticipated. This is not a simple interception mission. It’s almost as if it were some sort…invasion. The longer we wait, the harder it will be to evade their roaming patrols; no doubt that beast of silver soldier is tracking us as we speak. Our best option is to move quickly and proceed to our contact’s location. We’ll stick to back alleys and rooftops if needed.” She sensed the nearing climax of the mission; the end was tantalizingly in sight. Hastur was right of course, they were such a short distance away from their target’s location. It seemed almost tempting to simply throw caution to the wind and make a mad dash for their final objective. But now -more than ever- they had to exercise caution. The constricting presence of the dark side was tightening its hold on the city; soon darkness would descend. Silently, Sigal already doubted their hopes of escape though she felt there was no point to voice them now. However, she saw no point lying to the boy; realism would be his saving grace should the worst occur. He needed to know what was hunting them, what Sigal had seen out on the city borders.

‘A monster than thought itself a man.’​

“We are not dealing with some bounty hunter. These are trained military; we cannot underestimate them. They are disciplined, uniformed and most importantly, they are merciless. The dark side strangely favours them. Hastur, you must listen to me on this…” Sigal forced her eyes to remain stoic and her voice to stay firm; the boy looked to her for guidance, she could not falter (even if secretly she wanted to). “These men know my face; they are far more likely to give chase to me than you. The fact they didn’t kill me straight away back in the forest is a…’promising’ sign. Perhaps it is their wish to interrogate me which is something I could use to my advantage. If we are pursued and are forced to split up, this time you. Must. Run.” She stared the boy down, ensuring he fully understood the gravity of the situation. Part of her was unsettling curious about this Silver Soldier; as much as she dreaded seeing him again, a face to face encounter could possibly reveal more nefarious details...if he didn't kill her first. Silently, she knew he would be able to complete the mission, even if she would not be there to see it. He had survived this far, before meeting her. Surely he had some skills….she hoped. As for Sigal, personal honour dictated she protect Hastur as long as she could, to the best of her abilities, even if it meant facing such fearsome odds…and even more devastating enemies. She would fight until the bitter the end, as melodramatic as it sounded. Many lives depended on the delivery of the parcel. Wars would be won before they even begun, thousands would be spared suffering and misery. Isn’t that what jedi were meant to do? Acts of heroism and selflessness for the greater good?

‘In times of darkness, scared children look to light for protection.’​

Glancing out of the window, Sigal could see the target’s location. It was a beacon, standing out in the intrepid city sea. If they would see it -she thought with a humourless chuckle- then so could their enemy. Donning her shawl and visage once more, she readied herself to move, gesturing for Hastur to do the same. She knew they were tired, fatigued and without rest but the longer they delayed, the stronger their enemy became. If all else failed, they needed a fail safe. “There is one more thing, courier. Get this information to our contact anyway you can. If you can’t…destroy it. We can’t let it fall into the hands of our enemies. Should we fail this mission, we can at least hinder the victory of theirs.” It was then a devious thought crept into her mind. At first she felt compelled to discard it almost instantly…and yet…it lingered. If they did have to destroy the information, all their efforts would be worth nothing and none could gain from their endeavour. However, she wondered if they were a way of concocting one final deception. She was a Hapan after all; deception and trickery were to be expected of a noble. Concertation and deliberation washed over her features as she considered their next possible action. She glanced at Hastur before looking at his case (oblivious to the fact he had switched its content). “If one of us memorised the contents of that data file, we would be able to ensure we still possessed the information, even if forced to destroy its physical form. It’s a last option in worst case scenario, but at least one of us could possess the information and pass it on to others allies, should we fail to meet this contact.” She looked to Hastur, for once seeming open to his own opinion; afterall, knowing the actual information could place them as even greater risk, especially if captured by thee enemy. And yet, it was possibility, another attempt should this one fail. They just have to ask themselves – was it worth the risk?

‘Fortune favours the brave.'

@Baobhan ​

 

[Baobhan]

'Do robots dream of electric sheep?'​

... Sigal seemed almost darkly serious, as if she were readying herself for her last stand against their enemies, following her to the room Hastur would look around nervously at the glances which would peer his way, while he was able to cherry pick the emotions he felt, he didn't like the idea of others thinking that a Jedi like Sigal would stoop so low as to sell herself on a backwater planet like caluula. Furrowing his brow and puffing up his cheeks somewhat in disapproval he would enter the room, closing and locking the door behind him as he would look around to ensure the coast was clear of anyone or anything that could potentially listen in on them. The place was clear enough, so, returning to the Middle of the room he would begin to listen to her very strongly make demands of him should they come into conflict again... Hastur didn't like the idea of leaving her behind, but he could see in her eyes that she was not about to back down from this confrontation. Deciding to pick his battles for now, he nodded silently in agreement with her, his eyes slowly training towards the ground, shying away from both her and the grim tone that this conversation seemed to be taking.

But what could he do?​

... Hher words spoke to him deeply, he could not tell whether or not she was saying these things in some attempt to protect him on an interpersonal level, or whether or not she was simply adhering to the confines of the mission at hand. Either way, reluctantly, Hastur would take in the information she gave, waiting for her to finish everything she said before he would take the time to reply in kind verbally. It was a lot to soak in, but the thought of remembering the information was impossible, Hyperspace routes were massive strings of coordinates and numbers, the likes that only one with an eidetic memory could hope to memorize in the tiny amount of time they would have had to do so. It was simply an impossible ask, however, if they were after the case, Hastur had already replaced the drive within it to a hidden location on his person... a fact that even Sigal was not aware of. The mission was high priority, and as she said, it was like this was an invasion force... if that were the case the mission was getting more and more dire by the moment

“I agree, but we can't memorize the information, unless you want to try to learn tens or even hundreds of thousands of sequenced numbers for republic hyperspace routes... Either way, I promise, I'll run from any conflict to focus on the mission at hand. Ok? I don't fail my deliveries.” The words left his mouth like a hero, though his nearly shaking hands betrayed his confidence clearly.

... However, Hastur nodded with a hint of hopeful pride, intending to pick the move up a little and convey a more positive message than leaving his companion with the wolf pack, come whatever may. But just as word of the wolf pack came to mind, as if summoned by his own unconscious call, the wolves were at their doorstep. Unknown to Hastur, he had not been entirely unseen moving into this area, and his heading had been tracked to this section of the red light district. He could hear the sounds of commotion nearby as he moved to peer from the window onto the open street, as what looked to be about ten men were closing in on their positions. Each of them seemed to be armed to the teeth as more of them were exiting houses from further back... they were obviously going basically door to door to look for the Jedi who had eluded them... In moments, they would not be able to exit the way they came in... Hands pressed hard against the window, Hastur would look back with a hint of fear, but allowing it to wane in the face of determination.

“They're coming!”​

Not far from them, at their intended destination the Silver Fighter received word that they were in the location that they were last seen, the blockades had been set up around the district and to the north, moving up street by street. There was little to no way that their prey would escape, as, like a riviting game of fox and the hounds, they were looking to trap their wiley prey in move by move. The silver armoured commander gave no reply, merely allowing the communications device on his collar to fall back to a relaxed position, not moving from his position on the street beside the building... he knew they would have no-where to run but right towards him now. They had waited too long, and that was their final mistake. But with each waking moment, the people of the districts were becoming restless, the thought of an unknown authority trapping them in and not allowing them to pass was causing a stir, tempers were riling, tensions rising, as conflict at this point began to seem inevitable.

The coin had been cast into the air, and all that awaited, was for it to fall.​

 

[Pam0wl]

“They’re coming!”
​

...Sigal bolted from dingy bedding and dashed the window, gazing over the top of Hastur’s head. She cursed under her breath, spotting the riling commotion in the streets; the unmistakable, marching mass of soldiers converging on their location set off warning bells in the Hapan’s mind. The noose was tightening, the trap had been sprung. If they did not flee in that instant, there would be no escape. Their window of opportunity was almost closed; Sigal was forced to shove it back open. “And we’re going!” Tugging the boy to follow, she dashed out of the room. Yet she did not lead them to the front entrance. Sigal knew all too well that by the time they made it outside, they would be in clear line of sight of the soldiers. They would set upon the pair within a heartbeat and then the hunt would truly come to an unsavoury end. But the Hapan was cunning; if Sigal knew anything about such pleasure houses, it was that they always had back exits - often well used by guilty parties trying to quickly escape the wrath of their belated spouses. With a mighty shove, the door flung open, leading them out into the backstreets. Poking her head out from around the corner, they waited until the immediate area of clear before moving off once again. Their destination was in sight. So close and yet so far. They had no choice by the brave the direct streets and hope the force preserved them.

‘And so the hunt continues…’
​

...But it became all too clear they had been outflanked. Soldiers marched infront of them in the distance, another squad pulling up the rear. Any immediate movement or flight would alert the encroaching hunters to their prey; they needed a distraction. Sigal’s violet eyes scanned the amassing angry crowd, searching for an answer. And it came through the force. Sigal could sense it; the growing discontent of the civilians around them. Their bitter emotions were like sour wine, leaving a spiteful taste in her mouth. There was anger, vexation and even fury. The blockades were effecting their business and trades; the abusive control of power the soldiers exercised was only being met with hostility and resistance. Sigal’s cunning mind quickly formed a devious ploy. It was risky and somewhat underhanded, but their desperate situation called for dire solutions. She gestured for Hastur to stay close but quiet. If her planned worked, they’d have to bait a quick retreat. She did not want them to become separated in the chaos that was about the ensue. Clambering on top of discarded crates, her voiced called out to the present crowd. The force amplified her voice, carrying her words subtly into the hearts and minds of the irate crowds. She spoke with the seasoned expertise of a diplomat, but with the passion of a rebel. It drew in spectacors in an instant, but also the attention of the soldiers. Hurried, she rapidly spoke,

“People of Caluula; pirates, smugglers, brethren! Do you not see the enemy that walks amongst us? Are we to do nothing as they take over our city? These soldiers wish to trap us! Contain us! They would call themselves our masters and steal from us; our credits, our weapons, even our merchandise. They would make us slaves and profit off the labour of our backs. These greedy oppressors have no right! If you are a true free man, then I say fight! Fight! Show them that we shall not be conquered! That we shall not be controlled! If they want to make war with us, then with our blasters, let's give it to them!”

...As the spoke, bystanders flocked to her, attention fixed as her flames enflamed their vehement. Many began to vocalise their agreement, unknowingly spurred by Sigal’s force endued suggestions and speech. Though her ability was not able to ensnare all in the immediate area, it was enough to persuade a select few. Everything else simply fell into place; the masses conformed to the growing consensus of the crowds. Irked murmurs turned to angry bouts of yelling and shouting. Thunderous, even vindictive, glares turned outwards towards the approaching soldiers. A tense standoff was imminent. Like a rival pack of beasts, the rabid city inhabitants snarled and jeered at the marching soldiers, riling themselves up for the conflict that was to follow. All it took was one twitchy finger to ignite the explosive maelstrom; and that’s exactly how it started.

‘War erupted within the streets of sin.’
​

...“Quickly.” Ensuring Hastur would follow, Sigal sprinted away from the converging conflicts. Those opposing the soldiers’ occupation of their city seemed to have flown into a mindless state of aggression. Chaos soon erupted on the streets, full on brawls broke out in unorganized patches, diverting and separating the squads. Though the experienced soldiers attempted to keep organized counter defences, the growing numbers of rioters flocking to the fights seemed to temporary overwhelm them, distracting them from the flight of the jedi. Armoured troops from other ends of the city pooled to contain the fighting and re-establish order. Despite the fighting, the killing and conflict, it allowed Sigal and Hastur to spill in and out of the alleys and backways without much resistance. Had Sigal the leisure of an unhurried moment, she would have found the situation morbidly humorous; the pirates and smugglers had proved more useful to their mission than she originally thought. But Sigal pushed such callous thoughts aside; she focused instead on ensuring their progress. When one of their paths was crossed by a separated armoured individual, the Hapan acted on impulse, charging the singular soldier at full speed before he could com their location; his raised blaster gave clear indicatation he knew they were the targets being hunted. He meant to stop them by any means necessary. Sigal felt compelled to return in kind. Her hand stretched out to channel the force. In an instant, she sent the trooper tumbling into a nearby wall; with a sickening crack, he fell limp on the ground, sprawled out. It hadn’t been enough to kill him, but it had been enough to stun him. Taking opportunistic moment, Sigal snatched the communicator from his wrist, before gesturing to his weapon, “Grab the blaster!”

‘All’s fair in love and war.’
​

Whilst running through the rioting streets, Sigal listened to the brief transmissions in silence, creating a picture within her mind as to the enemy’s positions and formations. Various squads were calling in, informing their leader as to the chaotic developments. As soon as she acquired some of the information, the Hapan quickly discarded the device, cautious that the recipients on the other line who would soon question its radio silence and lack of individual response. Worst case scenario they could start tracking the com link and get a fixed position on the pair’s movements. Believing she had given them the best odds, Sigal continued to run, pushing Hastur as she did to ensure he was not swallowed up by the mayhem on the streets. They were approaching the target’s location; the light at the end of the tunnel. Little did they know of the welcoming party waiting for them inside.

‘Little did they know they were about to enter the wolf’s den…’
​

@Baobhan​

 

[Baobhan]

'Wolves in Sheeps clothing seldom get cold feet.'​

... Hastur would feel himself almost yanked from his position as the two of them would veritably fly from the room they were stationed in. Reaching a stair-well, they would take them several at a time, Hastur needing to vault the banister simply in order to keep pace with the rushing Hapan female who was charging ahead of him. He could not tell if she was simply decisive or if she was as mind-numbingly scared as he was as everything was just seeming to get worse and worse. If this was the sith that were hunting them, he doubted that they would be able to get out of this unscathed. Bursting through the foyer, Hastur could feel the cold breath on the back of his neck as he was certain the scouting forces would reach the front door of their building in moments. Such was the rush that they were in, Hastur crashed into one of the patrons of the establishment, knocking the unprepared man violently, though, due to his overbearingly heavy set stature, he simply spilled the wine in his glass over himself and his company slightly. Barely having the time to even dream of mounting an apology, Hastur ignored the two and fled with his guardian out the door that was meters in front of them. The flooding of street lights and neon would flood the boys' senses.

And the next step began.​

... Picking up his feet he would spill out happily onto the street, but the danger only seemed to compound as the hounds around them seemed to be closing in on their fox-like prey. It was a stroke of mad genius that would leap to the scene and hope to save them as Sigal would throw the proverbal spoke in the works of their foes. Standing high upon her soap-box, Hastur whispering loudly in absolute objection as she would speak out loudly to those around her. Her voice would ring in the hearts of men, but falling deaf on Hastur, simply because the boy had no emotional state to prey on with her words, had he wanted to show the emotions attempted to broil up within him, he would have, but that zealous nature, was something that could get you killed quickly on streets like this. Those she had inspired would begin the call to arms, rising up as the leaders of the rebellion that was to come against their foreign armed aggressors. As worried as the boy was about the fact, as stones began to be cast at the soldiers ranks... the damage had been done. The poor boy could not help but wonder if... any of these people would live to see tomorrow.

“Viva La Revolution... i guess.”​

... Hastur would mutter as Sigal would jump down. Part of the boy wanted to protect these people, many of whom worked as honest a job as they could, though, he could not help but remember that those who had taken her message, Jumping straight to violence as a first option without any hesitation or consideration to the fact that they, or those around them may be harmed or even killed due to their actions. But what worried him the most, was her persuasion, although a little more than mere words, it was a direct call to arms putting civilians at risk as sacrificial lambs so that they may escape. It was simply not the Jedi way... this is something that Hastur would remember for some time. Something that he would likely have to tell someone so that it did not happen again, likely on a planet far from this one, with a much more innocent member-base.

The Dark-side was not often an overt master.​

... As the riots would come to their head, Sigal would race away calling for the boy behind her to hurry, in the distance, Hastur could already see their intended destination approaching on the horizon, hope welled within the spirit of the young Jedi initiate. Finally they would be able to deliver their intended information to the recipient and be on their way, able to blend into the crowd with no feasable means to stop them now that they did not have a specific intended destination in mind. Even now, Hastur would allow himself to smile, letting out a cry of triumph just as they raced towards the finish line, crossing over as they would charge for the door-way of the building. But, like all good things, they often came with a hint of salt... but in this case, it was more than a fistful. Moments before they finally made their destination, a familiar figure stepped out from the darkness, weapon poised and aimed in their direction as the Silver Soldier that had been tracking them so long stood in their way.

Yet something was off.​

... The man who stood in their way did not seem to make any direct eye contact or look directly in either of their directions, it was as if he was facing them, but his head made no inclination to either of them directly. It was as if he were attempting to keep both of them in his peripheral rather than his core vision... or... it was as if he were not looking at them at all. The Dark-Side did indeed seem to radiate from the man to those who would be keen enough to sense it, but the feeling seemed to stem more from his emotional state, more than his physical connection to the dark side of the force. The force was not strong with the vicious man, but he seemed to have some distant or perhaps passive connection with it, allowing the taint to cling to him like a viscous corruption which was palpable in the air around him. Allowing a shuddering breath to pass his lips, the man spoke like a serpent, coarse yet seductive in a strange and pervasive sense.

"Oh, masster Jedii, onsse again to sseems you are ass predictable ass ever. Now, ssurender your weaponss and come quietly, or face ssevere conssequensses."​

... The blaster was charged and aimed, pointing it directly at the female of the two as Hastur would try to think his way out of this and around it. But for now, it seemed that confrontation was centric to how this story was going to play out. Hastur would move slowly in the hope to grip his lightsaber without the knowledge of the being before him, yet with a sudden motion he would find that the blaster pistil would be trained directly at the boys' head at a staggering speed, the silver soldier waggling his finger coyly, reminding the Jedi not to get any funny ideas.

 

[Pam0wl]

‘How quickly foxes run; even when into a trap.’​

…The violet eyed vixen did not dwell on those whom she had sacrificed in the ensuing the riots; to her, their lives were forfeited for a greater cause. War was uncaring. Whether you were neutral opposing, combatant or civilian, if made no difference. All were claimed in and amongst its destruction. The Hapan had committed what many would consider atrocities - but desperate times called for desperate measures. At least, that’s what Sigal told herself. And yet, part of her wanted to explain herself to Hastur; she could sense her actions had caused some unease within the quiet boy. But just as quickly as the light of uncertainty bloomed within her, she squashed it with professional malice. In the end, the decision was Sigal’s burden to bare alone. One of many she already carried. She did not need to condolence or clemency, least of all from a lowly messenger. During their earlier company, he even spoke in their defence. Did the courier have a possible background amongst such unsavoury characters? The Hapan never gave it much thought. She had studied and focused solely on the mission, she did not even bother to do any external research on her temporary partner. He certainly was a curious fellow. Before meeting Hastur, she had never even expected a jedi to hold such a humble profression. But Hastur wasn’t just a simple courier. He was attentive and present minded. Innocent in a way and yet not. He was a paradox of conflicting features – But Sigal had no time to contemplate them. For now, she approached the pyramid with a growing sense of relief and triumphant. They were so close…

‘…And yet so far…’​

…Sigal skidded to a halt, her hand reaching instantly for her saber. But the soldier marked her with his blaster straight away. She hesitated. She was not proficient with blaster deflection, her Makashi lightsaber was better suited for one on one swordplay. Already, she felt at a disadvantage. The soldier was unlike any she had seen before. He seemed more beast than man; he movements were like that of a restrained predator, ravenous with hunger. Their fear would only incense him further. Sigal hid her vexation behind a well-practiced sneer, “I wondered when you’d crawl back from under your rock.” Though she spoke with confidence, Sigal shivered slightly, feeling the tentatively, almost residual remnants of the dark side clinging to their armoured adversary; even her skin crawled at his serpentine lisp. The Hapan’s frustration grew and bristled like augmented thorns as she continued to scrutinize their opponent. Hidden behind the armour, with its military implications, Sigal could not make a definitive observation on the Silver Soldier. Even through the force, he seemed to be shrouded in a hazy mist she was unable to wade through. Perhaps if she could coax him into remove his helmet, she could be able to read him better; one look in his eyes and she’d be able to regain some advantage. What better way than to taunt him? She had already spurned him once during their escape from the jungle. "Show your face, you coward.”

‘The trap was sprung, the prey seemed caught. But in the face of the hunter, the foxes bared their teeth.’​

...When the Soldier’s blaster fixed itself on Hastur, Sigal took a brave step forward, inching herself slowly to come to the boy’s aid should he need it. Already her mind was trying to formulate a new plan. Almost instinctively she wanted to fight the Silver Soldier and allow Hastur time to escape and enter the Pyramid. But their enemy’s reflexes were sharp, he could just as easily snipe Hastur whilst keeping Sigal at bay. Somehow, they needed to get inside the building. But how? No doubt if they surrendered, they would be detained and escorted somewhere else, no doubt locked in some dingy cell awaiting their fate. A most unappealing fate. Briefly, her eyes flickered to Hastur, as if trying to see if he had any alternative plans. They desperately needed more insight, more information. Any actions now could prove counter productive. She needed the Soldier to talk and give them something to work with – though with his sort of selective training, it was highly unlikely. “It was never your intention to cross paths with us.” She began, carefully prodding, and probing for answers to the unspoken questions. She even took another daring step forward, “Your people plan on invading this planet, am I right? Yet another step in some sort of grand scheme. What does that make you? Your masters’ hunting dog?” Deep down, Sigal knew this encounter was going to end in conflict. There was no feasible way their enemy was going to let them get away this time. He could not be bargained with or swayed like a common criminal – his intent for them was so great it nearly choked at her. Sigal could only hope to create an opening for herself. She would have to fast; no doubt the Soldier already sensed her conniving mind in motion. What would she go for first? A barrage through the force or a defence with the saber? Either way…

‘The vixen readied to bite’
​

​

​

@Baobhan
​

 

[Baobhan]

'Do caged canaries sing for themselves?'​

... Death seemed to cling to the silver specter like a wraiths' shadow filling the air with a vile darkness, but not one of power in the darkside, merely murderous intent that was radiant in the atmosphere around him, surely due to what little force potential the being seemed to posses. Had this man been a Sith, had he been but a modicum greater than he seemed to be, there was a chance that the galaxy as a whole could have seen a thousand years of darkness rule by virtue of the feeling alone. But it was not to be. The being gave off a haunting chuckle, his chest heaving lightly as his head bowed, the hand which held his weapon remaining still and firm as if he were completely emotionally detached from his combat arm. Quietly he would listen to the accusations spouted forth heroically from the Jedi initiate before him, he could not help but think she was a brave one to speak out so loudly, so defiantly, so gallantly. But he could not help but think for a moment, that children like her, should be seen and not heard. It was this thought, that had his aim alter slightly, pushing him to pull down on the trigger letting out a blast of red plasma directly into the shoulder of Hastur. The shot was so sudden, so quick and surprising, it caught the boy off guard, letting out a cry and dropping to the ground as his arm seemed to have a black scorch where the weapon had hit.

"Foolish girl, thiss is what you get when you sspeak out of turn... sso very rude... you would do well to resspect your ssuperiorss.
But, sseing as you sseem so curiouss. I know not of any invasion... Dog as I may be. Ass far as I ssee it, it is better to kneel before greatness in an aim to asspire to it. Than sstiffle in sservice of those who reject it!"​

... Venom dripped from his words as he spoke, Hastur lay on the ground clutching his arm, ripping the material away to see the damage that had been done. He was burned there, badly, but the blaster bolt had not gone directly through him, it had burned into the muscle, easily beyond the point of moderate third degree burns, but well under the power potential of most blaster pistols. Reflecting only the cruelty of the man before them, he wanted to scare the two of them, he was attempting to distract them or weaken them with fear, and it would likely work against the Young Jedi. Had the silver soldier had wanted to, that blast could have well likely killed Hastur if aimed in the correct place, and had he not consciously reduced the power settings of the blaster manually... The wounded Courier took all of this into account, but he knew he would have to play the part of the wounded boy now, allowing fear and pain fill his eyes and bring him to tears, the issue was, he didn't know what else to do... he could not reach for his shoto without taking another shot, and he didn't have another weapon on him... It was up to Sigal to save him again. Even Hastur was beginning to think this was a little too much to bear, underneath the skin of his honesty lined facade, he knew that the galaxy was a dangerous place, why he thought otherwise was beyond him. So the boy could not help but think...

Had I but taken my role seriously, and trained in combat, we would not be here...​

... Darker, times seemed to be quickly becoming, Hastur would look at Sigal with his big round teary eyes in the hopes of inspiring her to action for but a moment, before he would drag himself up from the ground, his position still meant that he could not go for his light-saber, but there were other weapons on his person that he would be able to use... the vials of toxin for one. He only needed what little distraction that he could get in order to set something up that would not betray his position. While looking to his protector, he hoped to catch her eye, as for but a moment, Hastur would flicker just a hint of something other than sadness into the mix of his feeling. With a single sniff, he would turn to stand, angling himself towards her as he would slip a vial from one of his pockets as he rose in such a manner that she would be able to see, but the soldier would be blinded by his position and his movement... if even the man could see. Between the two of them, there was a way to get through this encounter alive, whether or not they would destroy the evil before them would be another issue all together. But Hastur could remember vividly what this liquid sap had done to the creature that had attacked them at the river... and could only imagine what it would do should it come into contact with humanoid skin.

It was a match made in heaven.​

... Their adversary would watch the boy drag himself from the ground, gripping his arm and clenching a fist tightly, he could smell the salt in his teary eyes, he could hear the drops hitting the ground as they left his cheeks. It was such a precious sight. The two opponents he was staring down seemed so prideful, and to think that the Army of Light had trained them, it was almost enough for the silver armoured man to let the two of them go in hopes that one day, that pride would corrupt them, torture them, so that some day they would look into the mirror and not recognize the people they had become. They would not see the faithful jedi they had imagined themselves to be, but dark, hollow reflections of their former selves. They would have become him, and the irony would be poetic indeed. But fate did not seem to smile on that ultimatum, as much as he was toying with his food.

The Vixen was poised to strike, but the fox seldom defeated the hound.​

 

[Pam0wl]

‘Is a cage ever truly empty?’
‘Well, that depends. Are you referring to the one you left behind or the one that still lingers within your mind?’

​

...Sigal’s heart seized. She registered Hastur’s anguished cry before she even acknowledged the blaster bolt leaving the barrel of the weapon. She didn’t think – instinctively she collapsed to Hastur’s side, inspecting the wound, fearing the worst. A laboured breath exhaled with fricative labour. The boy was alive, though scorched and wounded. The Hapan’s gaze reverted to the Silver Soldier; her amethyst eyes turned as vindictive as her tone. “You swine!” The blonde had to restrain herself though, halting any further insults from escaping her lips. Their enemy had already shot at Hastur for her earlier words. What other horrors would he inflict if spurned on further? Again, Sigal sought to shield Hastur – no doubt the malicious soldier would hurt the courier more just to spite her. But the Hapan’s attention was stolen away from their enemy. Instead, she focused on Hastur’s emeralds. Something glinted in his eye. It was so subtle, so out of character, Sigal almost missed it. But she recognised the devious plotting flashing in the green embers of the boy. He had a plan. Or at least he thought he did…

‘Foxes can lay traps too. All they need is the right bait.’
​

...With practiced features, Sigal gave nothing away, no nod or even the briefest twitch. Instead, she slowly stood, facing for the soldier head on. “Greatness?” She mumbled, as if pondering the word with philosophical musings. She then chuckled – it was haughty and humorous, though it soon grew into a laughter that was nothing short of mocking. “I hate to break it to you, but ‘greatness’ doesn’t work like that. Whatever lies you’ve told, whatever promises your masters have made –they’re not going to happen. The ‘thing’ you’re aspiring to is nothing more than an illusion; a little dog treat to bring you to heel. You’ll never reach greatness; not when you’re trapped kneeling in the dirt.” She knew what her dangerous words would earn her. The soldier may not lash out in pure emotion but no doubt he would want to silence her – even she knew how incredibly vexing she could better. She almost prided herself on it. Daringly, as she spoke, the Hapan took tentative steps forward towards the shoulder, though she made sure she was still in front of Hastur, keeping the soldier’s attention mostly fixed on her.

‘The Vixen dances in front of the Hound. Coaxing. Taunting. As if flirting with death itself. Will he answer her call?’​

...“And for the record…Hapans don’t kneel. To anyone.” The challenge was there, as plain as any formal declaration. Would their enemy rise to such temptation? Sigal could almost sense the perverse thoughts riddling within their opponent’s mind. This male single handily had the talent of making her skin scrawl (usually only a Hutt could accomplish such a feat.) This went beyond a simple exchange of hateful words – their armoured clad opponent took sadistic joy in break his opponents down and forcing them into a corner. And he was exceptionally skilled at it, no doubt from years of practice. He seemed able to predict sentient behaviour even better than the queen of observation herself. No doubt he knew what was coming. She only hoped whatever Hastur had in mind was outlandish enough to take the soldier by surprise. Begrudgingly, the boy had managed to astound her more than once already; perhaps he could do the same to their opponent. Sigal readied herself; though she postures mimicked that of sultry, mocking minx, her muscles tensed and tightened, preparing for a rapidly burst of movement. The soldier wasn’t fool; unable to beguile him with beauty or wit, Sigal resorted to her last option. Offensive engagement. Knowing the soldier would curry an advantage with speed, Sigal erected a protective barrier up through the force, just enough to cushion any blaster bolts that may come flying at her as she drew her purple saber.

“Let’s dance, soldier boy.”
​

@Baobhan ​

 

[Baobhan]

'With a God inside her fist, she'd strike the anvil and quake the heavens. '​

... Hastur gripped his wound tightly as he stayed low to the ground on one knee, allowing himself to repeatedly assure his partner that he was fine as she came down to his immediate aid. The look of horror on her face was not something he had expected, as cold and calculated as Hastur was under the skin of his expressive demeanor, he hadn't thought that him being shot would have illicit this kind of extreme emotional reaction from her. He could only assume that it was the realization of the failure of their mission, rather than it reflecting her caring directly for his well-being as a person. Though, he could not deny that on some level, there was a chance of it happening. With great care he pulled the vial tightly into his grip, so far, he had not been seen grabbing it from his clothing, his plan was going well so far, all he had to do now, was throw it with enough force that it would hit on his armour, breaking the thin glass vial, the toxin would splash across his form, getting into the cracks and making the armourweave between them wet. That wetness would surely touch his skin and within moments the hound would be thrashing and howling in pain, begging for it to stop.

While far from full-proof, it was the best he had.​

... Sigal was doing her part, her voice course and challenging as she raved in the direction of their oppressor. He seemed to be enjoying her moral stand, as he barely made a move towards her, simply holding his blaster pistol leveled with her torso, not firing or threatening any more than he had to. He simply fell silent, listening, thinking. Hastur could not see where his eyes lay, he seemed to be absently looking somewhere in between them now. Not at Hastur, but also not at Sigal, it was misplaced, and odd, like he was thinking about something else entirely. Or he really was blind. Should that one realization be true, they would gain an immediate advantage against their enemy in theory, but his senses seemed so keen it was almost unnatural if that was the case. None the less, as Sigals' speech came to a close, the man finally exhaled before breathing in again, as if he were a tired parent listening to the pretentious prattle of his teenage daughter.

He did not seem entertained.​

“Are you quite done?” He began, leaning his head to one side as if he hadn't the energy to hold it any longer. "I had ussed to think you Jedi to be entertaining, but you mewl on and on about the most inssufferable things. You sspeak of greatness as if you are great... but you are not. You are a child, not ssome philossopher. However... you surprise me, a Hapan Jedi... why... one could not imagine a more proud creature. I thought the Jedi council were meant to be wisse. I bet, one nick to your ego, one scar to your pristine visage, and you would faster and harder than any before you to the dark side..." The man snickered, revealing the small etched claw-bits in his armour. "Or perhaps, I will do you mercy, scar you so severely, then remove your ability to perceive it, so that one day, you may just forget how hideous you had become. What a price to a Hapan, to look. like. me..."

... With a single gesture he moved his free hand to his helmet to remove it, revealing himself to be bald, gaunt, like flesh stretched over a skeleton, blue veins trailing over his body as deep scar tissue crossed across his features. Though of all his features, the worst were his eyes... or lack thereof. where they should have been, were nothing but holes, the shadows cast because of them made them seem endless, like looking into a void. The Dark-side, where it would manifest physically in ones eyes, acted like a phantom limb outwardly. It was as if, while the eyes were no longer there, the force still thought they were, and so the dark-side accumulated in those empty pools as nothing but concentrated malice. The man was indeed blind, but more, he was miralukan. Hastur was lost in his blind gaze for a moment, before he clicked to the plan, the man wasn't wearing a helmet! So, with a whip of his arm, he cast the vial with pinpoint precision to meet its mark. And with this, spell the end for the encounter before it could escalate any higher.

Now was their only chance!​

... The miralukan however, was quick on the mark, his blaster veering towards the flight path of the vial, firing at its intended diestination in mid fight before pulling the trigger. The red beam of plasma crashed with the vial effortlessly as the contents of the container detonated in every direction, though closer to their intended target than either of them. Drops of the vial landed on his armour, and one even on his cheek, which began to immediately redden and creep outwards as it reacted with his flesh... Hastur couldn't believe it... he had failed. The look of utter failure painted on his face as his plan washed away entirely... their enemy was simply too good... There was nothing he could do...

But to a trained fighter like Sigal, she would immediately know one thing

he was distracted~​

 

[Pam0wl]

‘Woe to the fool who threatens a Hapan’s beauty.’​

... The Hapan visibly recoiled at the grotesque sight before her. The ravaged flesh of their enemy was truly more disturbing to gaze upon than the imposing uniformity of his pristine armour. It somehow seemed fitting for their deplorable opponent to be so disfigured, the darkness having ravaged his form like a pestilent plague. He was a walking spectre, almost inhuman in his appearance. No doubt any who gazed upon him would instantly be unnerved by the horrifying visage that stood before them. The absence of eyes was a tell tale indicator.

‘A monster in the mocking form of a man’​

... Miraluka - A form of near human species with an innate connection to the force. The Silver Soldier’s actions, his abilities, all seemed to make sense now. Sigal was somewhat familiar with them, having seen some train with the Jedi; already, she began planning and plotting, attempting to recall any information or episodes of experience she could muster. Many underestimated Miraluka, but they could certainly prove to formidable opponents. Though physically blind, they would perceive much through the force, allowing it to compensate for their impaired vision. Very little could escape their disembodied ‘gaze’. But, there were weaknesses. They could not feel, perceive, or see beings/things not connected to the force; a difficult feat to achieve…but not impossible.

‘A maiden of undesirable virtues’​

... A feral grimace broke across Sigal’s expression, her eyes gleaming with vindictive intent at the Soldier’s sordid words. How dare he. How dare this mongrel of a misshapen man dare threat her beauty. Her physical virtue of perfection. There was no greater insult and most certainly nothing warranting greater punishment. Gone was her restrain and hesitation; yet the Hapan was not outright blinded by her anger; she used it to focus on the Silver Soldier and fuel her assault. The first step was to disarm of that pesky blaster -no doubt he had more- but one claw at a time. Sigal did not hesitate; she did no falter. In Hastur’s belated offensive attempt, she saw the opening momentarily created, the advantage she was starved to take. Her hand stabbed out into the air, fist clenching in mere moments. Her saber was drawn ready to deflect any blaster rounds that fired – it was not an art she had perfected; a competent user of Soresu could have easily deflected the blaster bolts back at the aggressor. Sigal had to settle for random deflection as she made her move. The blaster in the Soldier’s hand would crumple and bend until it was nothing but a mangled mess, the metal whining in protest as it buckled and contorted. She charged immediately with wide, garish slashes and jabs. The art of Makashi enabled its user to force their opponent’s movement, linear as they were. For now, Sigal was forcing the Soldier back, to the best of her abilities. She was trying him, testing him. Her martial prowess was admirable but no doubt an unworthy match for the seasoned warrior. Recoiling back, Sigal put some distance between them, disactivating her saber. The force embedded in the crystal would be like a blinding beacon to her movements.

“I can never be like you.” She hissed, body poised for any assault the Soldier may attempt during the brief reprieve. “No one else could ever become that ugly. On the outside or the inside." With a slow exhale, Sigal centred herself, focusing inwardly rather than the opponent in front. For years, she had attempted to perfect the art of closing off her emotions from blatant broadcast. Now, she was doing the same to her force sanctioned aura; covert, espionage missions sometimes called for force concealment – Sigal had ranging success with this art, most certainly none would consider her a master at the ability. But, perhaps it would be enough to put the Soldier on edge. Her presence in the force may seem fluctuating and obscure, brightening, and fading one moment after the other as she shifted on her feet, edging around the Soldier. It would be perceiving a mirage dancing amongst the shifting dunes of Tantooine’s deserts. Sigal just had to keep her focus, control her breathing, clear her mind. Against her better nature, she had to endeavour to simply ‘vanish’. Growing smaller and smaller in the force until she was small in scale. By no means was she invisible, but perhaps it would be enough to put her on equal footing with the morbid Miraluka. She drew her Hapan dagger and once more advanced on her enemy. Though the two were ready to face off once more, there was still one wild card in play…injured though he may be.

‘A courier with more surprises than was to be expected’​

@Baobhan

 

[Baobhan]

'With deft hands but a defter mind, the war is won and lost in kind.'​

... The totalitarian aggressor as she reached out her hand, mimicking the might of the force her opponent would just as rapidly pivot his arm to align itself with the female jedi, beginning to pull the trigger en route at such a rate that it was like he was slinging a blaster bolt like casting a throwing dagger with a back-hand. Yet it seemed like the female Jedi was ready for the bolt, defending herself with her saber, the red bold deflected back in his general direction, slamming into the ground near his feet as the battle of his short nosed blaster pistol would warp and crumble. At the apex of his swing he would cast it aside, reaching to his belt with his off hand, drawing what seemed to be a stun blade. An electrified short-vibrosword drawn like lightning as the female Jedi charged in anger, raising her light-saber, the evil stalker did not strike or block with his osculating blade, but rather he maneuvered himself backwards, one arm behind his back like a fencer as he would evade the bright plasmic blade. Due to the Kyber crystal within the blade, he could feel the presence the weapon had in the force as brightly as he would should he have eyes.

This seemed like nothing to him.​

“Oh dear,” The man would begin to say as he darted further and further backwards, avoiding her blade and her laboured strikes as they would hit nothing but air. As large as the man was in comparison to her, he was nimble as a fox with his quick explosive movements. “ Never be like me? You're halfway there already Jedi, I can feel the dark anger within you... I bet your masters can already feel your mind clouding as I can to anger and pride forming pious rage... How very unjedi-like.” As soon as he finished his taunt he would flourish his blade like lightning rather than avoid the next strike, routing his movement to instead step in on his opponent with his superior body-weight, attempting to clash with her weapon hard enough to throw her backwards or to the ground, the downward axis would hopefully force her to attempt to throw her weight backwards while she was already dedicating her weight to the front, as one does while advancing against an opponent. The effect would, hopefully, land her falling backwards on her ass. Where the child belonged.

... Hastur however, as soon as the battle began picked himself off the ground and began to run, charging into the house, slamming into the door and disappearing. The eyes of the assailant watched him run, as the boy didn't bother to dust himself off, he didn't bother to speak or apologize, but the fear that radiated from him, the pure, primal terror that could almost be smelt on a chemical level as well as felt on a level with the force, was so palpable that even men on the street would be able to pick it up. Scrambling, Hastur ran for the mission destination, in his mind, he had no intention of returning...

“Aha, even your teammate has abandoned you girl. You're all alone now.” The silver soldier spat with spite and venom in his voice, hoping to crush the willpower of the Jedi as well as her body. The fact of the matter was however, as deft as his movements were, he moved like a viper, coiled and explosive, but sweat could already be seen to be beading on his face. Whether it simply spoke to how much effort he put into his quick movements and explosive actions, or it was due to a lack of fitness. He was tiring quickly, and it was visible. In truth, the corruption that flowed through his veins, even though he relied little on the force, the dark side was so thick in his system, the man was physically ill, the trade off being his sharpened mind and senses to superhuman levels.

Yet only for the shortest time.​

... Within moments, Hastur had charged into the house, looked for the man that they had been looking for, reached into his pocked and slammed the data-stick down on the table. Looking the man dead in the eyes, he nodded, the information broker would nod in turn, taking the stick and plugging it into a system. Within moments streams of data would be uploaded into a closed network shared by trusted brokers within an area, they would sell the route information to pirates, giving them almost total control of movement in the system. The upload only took moments, recieving his payment, Hastur thanked the man and began to move for the back-door, placing his hand on the handle, he could remember what his partner had told him to do should they encounter trouble once again... her orders were exceedingly clear... he was to run, as fast as he could in the opposite direction of danger.

So, opening the door, and taking a single step, he made his exit...​

 

[Pam0wl]

‘Dancing with daggers invites only death.’​

...Sigal gritted her teeth in vexation; none of her blows with the saber had even landed a glancing graze on her silver clad opponent. It was as if the man was a beast made flesh, a mocking ensemble of depraved humanity; heightened senses otherwise preserving him. It was as she feared, the Miraluka was damn near untouchable; his perception was too great. Even with her diminished force signature, he still seemed able to read her movements. What’s more, he managed to evade them without injury. The spectre was certainly more nibble than she gave him credit for. She thought the armour would hinder his mobility, but his agility was hardly impaired. It reminded her vehemently of her Echani combat instructor, toying with her during her youth. The enemy who stood before her, warped and twisted as he was, was still a seasoned warrior. Years had honed the skills Sigal still lacked. Confidence bled into his fluidity, his callous words attempting to stock Sigal’s simmering flames. Yet she openly scoffed at them with practiced indifference “Spare me your derisions. I’ve heard them before.”

‘Blades of metal may cut through flesh but words of venom could pierce the soul.’​

...For some time now, Sigal knew she was not the ideal model of a Jedi; she had done terrible things in the name of the greater good and she had made her peace with that. But she’ll be damned if she allowed some mongrel to speak to her about such intimacies. Yet the silver soldier’s words had hit their mark, Sigal briefly faltered, allowing him to shift her off balance. She cursed as she fell back. But ever adaptive, the Hapan’s body instinctive reacted; using the momentum to roll back, Sigal braced her hands flat against the ground and straightened with speed, launching her feet upwards in a powerful handstand, all with the intent of catching the soldier’s chin with her strike. Carrying the manoeuvre through, she rolled away, falling back into a secure stance, dagger at the ready. Despite Sigal’s slender frame, her physical assaults -accentuated with speed and precise deliverance- could hold surprising power. Despite the jarring impact of the blow, by no means would it be able to incapacitate a man monster like him. Still, Sigal allowed herself a grin in slight smug pride.​

‘Even the smallest victories should be counted in stride.’​

...Composing herself, Sigal’s opalescent hues briefly followed Hastur’s flight. She shrugged off the jeer, though her tone held little elation, “Courier’s just following orders. About time he listened.” Sigal did not allow her slight disappointment to show; the soldier would seize on it like a scavenging kath hound. She was no stranger to such devilish, demoralising tactics. She would not let herself become so easily flustered. Instead she calmed herself with rationalised thoughts. Hastur had done as he was instructed; continue with the mission, avoid conflict. He had already proved himself somewhat inadept, having already been shot. If he remained, his presence would always be at the back of the Hapan’s mind, a possible liability for the soldier to exercise at will. It was for the best, or so Sigal told herself. In this battle, there was no room for sentiments. Endeavouring to even the odds, Sigal sought to unsettle the soldier in turn. Perhaps it was childish tit-for-tat -something which she was discouraged about during her youth- but all was fair in love and war. A keen observer, Sigal fixed her mind on analysing the spectre before her, searching again for obvious cracks in his ghastly, yet disciplined, act.

‘Even a tiny fever wasp can carry death into places where a Krayt dragon cannot go.’​

...The Hapan noticed something. It was faint, barely noticeable at first, but it was there. Fatigue. In a moment of brief reprieve, she recognised it now. The soldier, slowly but surely, was weakening. Why? Had he become unused to prolonged combat? Had the bite of time sunk its teeth into his decrepit form. Sigal’s insightful gaze turned almost cruel. “What’s wrong, old man?” A hint of mockery laced her coaxing sweet tone, “Starting to feel your age? Not used to dancing with little Hapans like me?” Sigal had heard about the decaying effects of the dark side before, how it was able to rob its user of their vitality and very life’s essence. Even the deadliest warrior could be felled by their induced premature fragility. Such was the vile price of power and those depraved enough to pay it. But Sigal used the knowledge like a second weapon, launching herself once more into the fray with youthful viciousness. Despite her young age, she was certainly still more adept with her dagger than her saber; its small size complimented her petite frame, allowing for better movement and variety of attack. Avoiding long sweeping strikes -knowing full well the soldier would use them to his advantage- Sigal instead favoured a quick succession of shallow cuts. The songsteel would not be able to outright pierce the armour but it could certainly be jabbed into the chinks. Joints, appendages, even the soldier’s neck were target; like the simmering fever wasp, Sigal stung repeatedly, all with the intent purposes of slowly bleeding him out. She kept low to the ground, inviting the enemy to try an assault from the high position. For one of her stature and strength, using aerial blows would only prove to be superficial and ineffective, instead, she would bait the beast to come at her, letting him stick himself with her blade. True to the weapon’s metal, the weapon creating a fine singing as it cut through the air, its movements resonating with a disorientating pitch. Again, Sigal allowed herself to grin. Whilst preferring to avoid conflict by no means was she a pacifist. If anything, she could be outright cruel once the heat of battle set in. The perpetual phantom had slighted her, she intended to make him pay. Why else would she be delivering a glancing slice at his empty eye sockets, if only to mock him.

‘Beauty is truly a devastating thing. It conceals from sight even the most foulest of beasts.’​

@Baobhan

 

[Baobhan]

'We will never do anything in this world without Courage...
It is the greatest quality of the mind next to honor.'​

... He had no intention of returning at the time he had run from the field, this much was true. Hastur, as far as he was concerned, had done as he was told, he'd run a block within moments, before he could feel the tug on his conscience, without anyone around, Hasturs' mood had moved to its default state, solemn, uninterested, introverted and blank... But even he felt a soft ping in his chest, like a weight that pulled back in the direction where the conflict still raged onwards. Every step he seemed to take away from the battle, was a step where he could feel gravity crushing downwards on himself. So bad was the effect that he could no longer bare the thought of progressing this way. Was this what a Jedi would do? The question resounded in the boys mind until he decided against the course of action, Drawing his Shoto blade, he would turn back and charge for the enemy, his face blank of any meaningful expression other than anger as it flooded him, if he was going to fight, he was going to need the adrenaline that began to course through his veins.

Meanwhile...​

... The Miralukan as he knocked down his opponent would tilt his chin to a side, as the foot would grind upward across his chest-plate as little more than a glancing blow resulting in little more than jostling his armour. The ability was so transparent he wouldn't have needed the force to see it coming, not to mention that the head was the smallest, and most mobile target on the body, it was a fools errand to attempt to land a blow to the head and have it stick unless their opponent was almost incapacitated. The silver soldier was far from it. As she would rise to her feet, the Miralukan would push his offensive, stepping in quickly as the beads of sweat would drip from his head he would swipe with his vibro knife diagonally left and right of the Jedi's chest as she would raise to her feet, barely giving enough time for even a trained fighter to bring their weapon to a defensive position. His entire goal was to keep the Jedi off balance. If a Jedi was off balance, their mood would seldom stabalize, not allowing them to focus... if a Jedi could not focus...

Well, they were as good as dead.​

... It would be after the third swing that Hastur would re-enter the battlefield, having climbed a building he would charge the man on the ground, who, having sensed the presence of the young boy would smirk and turn, throwing his right foot back to potentially brace what was to come. He could hear his foot-steps, he could sense his anger. Was this the same boy as before? The miralukan could barely tell by mood alone, but his presence in the force seemed the same hollow dull signature as it was before while he was frightened... It was then he sensed the Shoto blade. As Hastur leaped from the roof-top, the Miralukan took a step backwards to avoid the boys' path entirely... But even a Miralukan could only sense so many things coming at once. Small vials with no force presence, not being alive, would be far more dull to his third eye. Slipping a vial from his sleeve, he would hurl it in the direction of the enemy, slamming him in the chest and spilling the ichor all over his neck and sinking into the gaps around it.

The Miralukan looked shocked...​

... Hastur hit the ground hard, twisting in the air to throw the vial meant he hit the ground side-on, his foot rolling to a side on an awkward angle as he still attempted to land feet first. Something sounded like it snapped as he hit and rolled, landing with that foot outstretched and gasping in pain as he had heavily sprained his left ankle. Likely to the point of having momentarily dislocating the joint...

But their opponent however, was a little worse off, the reddening and blisters that began to immediately appear on his skin did not look friendly, he began to claw at his face, bursting them and causing them to bleed heavily due to the blood vessels located in the face. The man wasn't out, but as far as blows go, it would be like having set the man on fire. But now, it was all up to Sigal.

 

[Pam0wl]

'The final conflict...'​

...The Hapan hissed in growing frustration. She had hoped her improvised assault would have at least scored a glancing blow, but the soldier dodged it like a silver clad serpent. Despite his apparent afflictions, the Miralukan was still a challenging opponent, his physical prowess more than enough to keep Sigal on edge. She cursed bitterly, flinging herself back yet again to avoid the soldier's counter measures. Despite her own agility, Sigal barely managed to avoid the vicious slashes raining down on her; she dived in and out of the way, lessening the strength of the blows rather than absorb them head on. If she attempted to meet them with an equal block, her stamina would only be further depleted. The soldier's force was as draining as it was brutal. The cur may be waning in vigour but he certainly wasn’t going down without a fight. Sigal quickly realised this encounter was fast becoming a test of endurance rather than simple skill; whoever was left standing would ultimately be the one to claim victory. Panting harshly, the Hapan once more stared her opponent down, eyes scanning for a weak point to exploit. Even if it cost her life, she would bring this beast to heel. One way or another - all she needed was an opening, one moment of distraction.

'Ask and you shall receive.'​

...Sigal scarcely believed her eyes – had her senses through the force not confirmed it, she would have never thought it even possible. The courier had returned, his bubbling anger blazing a trail as he entered the fray. What on earth was the boy thinking? Had she not told him to flee? To complete the mission, no matter the cost? Yet here he was, charging head long into combat, his unusual shoto style blade drawn. His emotions were resonating with such velocity, such steadfast passion, for a brief moment even Sigal faltered, her empathic outreach shaken by the raw aptitude of Hastur's emotional spectrum. It was like seeing the sun for the first time and being blinded by its brilliance. To say Sigal was astonished would be an understatement. No doubt Hastur would take slight preserve pleasure in her openly shocked expression. Yet again, the boy had surprised her. She almost laughed at the thought; the courier was certainly starting to make it a nasty habit of his, rendering the Hapan seeming speechless. But it was one she could affectionately allow. 'Alright, courier...let's see what you're made of'. With sharp, keen eyes Sigal watched the scene unfold, tension once more building. She was more than ready to intervene if the threat to Hastur became too great; after all, the green eyed boy was already injured from before. He may not be lucky enough to walk away from a second encounter alive.

...Yet it seemed Hastur had a crafty trick up his sleeve; vials of toxicity to be exact. The slight of hand was so subtle, its motion masked by the speed of his movement, Sigal missed the initial attack until it was too late...for the soldier. The sound of fine shattering glass was unmistakable. The Hapan even balked in sheer disbelief. The boy had actually managed to land a hit! Sigal let out an outlandish cry of encouragement. The boy had actually done it! Even as Hastur tumbled aside in apparent pain, Sigal had to temper her elation. Instinctively she readied to approach Hastur;s side to offer aid but restrained herself. Now was not the time to get distracted - she had to focus. Hastur had played his part, rather beautifully. Now it was her turn yet again. Riveting her violet eyed gaze back on the soldier, Sigal drank in the ensue horror.

'Divine punishment. Terrifyingly just.'​

...She didn't even try to hide her growing disgust or even her cynical sneer; somehow it seemed the soldier had become even more unsightly, his skin blistered and bubbled. Congealed blood trickled from the abscesses riddling his face, seeping in and under the cervices of his armour. Only spreading further irritation. With a nod of acknowledgment to Hastur, Sigal once more charged towards the Miralukan, dagger drawn. It was now or never. One last opportunity to fell a beast. Her footfalls were heavy, pounding against the stone floor as she advanced. Even as she approached on foot at speed, she readily flung her dagger through the air, its fine point honed on the pulsating jugular of the soldier’s neck. Sigal did not attempt any graceful maneuverers or agile displays of acrobatics. She simply went straight for the soldier’s strained, exposed neck. The head may be a small, nimble target, but the neck was like a stubby trunk, not so easily moved or protected -especially with the absence of a helmet-. The window of opportunity had finally presented itself thanks to Hastur’s actions. Sigal seized it. With the will of the force to guide it, the dagger found its mark with satisfying accuracy. A clean, somewhat shallow, slice. The sharpness of the blade so pronounced, the cut may not have been immediately felt. But none the less, Sigal had finally cut the silver soldier.

@Baobhan

 

[Baobhan]

'What is the true nature of objective Terror?'​

... The silver soldier, blinded by a moment as the waves of pain came over him, the senation of swelling and discomfort overtaking his senses as there was sudden movement on the horizon, but with his focus on the force distracted by his medical condition, he was in no place to 'see' what was about to occur before it was too late. Sigal and her blade soared through the air, the hiss of the blade singing as it cut swiftly for the mans' neck. It wasn't until he heard the hiss of the blade that he was able to react in any measurable way. Lurching backwards as quickly as he could, was the only attempt he had made at an evasion, but the knife still met its mark. Half an inch, was all it sunk into the side of his neck, but the blade had tripped something... blood began to violently expel from the side of his neck in a spectacular manner as the major artery was tapped. Shock and anger flashed across the mans' face as his hand instinctually snapped to the side of his neck in a desperate attempt to stem the bleeding...

but it was too late.​

... Gritting his teeth he would let out a loud curse, fumbling backwards as his senses would refocus, the potentially lethal blow landed to the side of his neck removing any focus on the pain that had been inflicted on the rest of his body. That said, the adrenaline from the loss of blood and the blow would quickly work to ensure that shock would not be a symptom of being hit with Hasturs' toxin in the mean time. The Silver Soldiers' heart pounding so quickly and steadily it likely wouldn't be stopped by putting something through it, rather than the far more meek suggestion of anaphylaxis.

“You damn Jedi, though It may not be me who will finally put an end to you, It will be some-one, the Dark side comes for your worlds, I tell you now... Your days are numbered... You ... can't ...run ....fr-...om... what.s.. coming... ... ...”

... The adrenaline that pumped his heart faster to hold off the infection, would pump the blood faster to the wound in his neck as his brain would be desperate for oxygen. The silver soldiers' world began to fade as he slumped to the ground before falling to his back, appearing unconsious as his vitals would rapidly decline. He was daying, and Hastur almost felt bad for the man. Calling his ally over to him, he would attempt to stand, but fail, only managing to get himself sitting upright. While the hunter was dead, it would, ironically, only blind the enemy that were seeking them. Although crippled, they were still on the hunt through the city, meaning they would have to slip out while they had the chance.

“Sigal... uh... help please? ” Hastur would call out. “I don't think I can walk on my own, sorry, i guess i should look before i take a two story drop. haha”

... Hasturs' laughter penetrated the mood as he seemed to devolve to his more child-like state once again, though it only took a few moments for his focus to loop upon the dying man before them. Guilt began to bubble to the surface of his emotional spectrum, not wanting to look away, whether it was simply how he was taught, or the expectations of the Jedi, he could not help but pity the man for what he had been made into. He doubted that as a child, with limitless potential, he had chosen the path of a hunter and a killer of fellow human beings outside of some kind of extra-ordinary circumstance... but, the thought was cut short as shouts came from the distance, their battle had not gone entirely unnoticed it seemed... enemies were on their way.

It was time to leave... But words lay on the boys's tongue.​

“Do you think we could have saved him?” The hopeful Jedi initiate mused.

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