The Force Shall Free You— Literally

[Deviant]

cPvP; Death/Capture-disabled​

Hecate hated prisons. The scum that reeked within its confines, the smell of shit that permeated throughout, the clamor of both the senseless criminals and the moronic guards. This was no place for a Sith as renowned as she, and neither was this no place for Gren Vohari, the infamous Jedi who had so nearly defeated Hecate on Ord Radama. The Jedi was powerful, and the Sith knew full well that placing her in a prison as meager as this would not hold him for long. He was a danger to the Empire. If anything, he should have died on the battlefield, or at least be transferred to some immediate public execution. Fortunately for her, that was exactly why she was here today.

Emperor Malon, despite his own pressing issues, had requested the Jedi be moved for public execution. A sign to the Jedi Order that their advances on Ziost would not go unpunished. And Hecate, being the ever-watchful Sith she was, was determined to ensure the Barabel was relocated appropriately. So, with the same equipment as that of her last battle on Ord Radama, she now loomed over the Jedi as they were strapped to a dolly. With a metal muzzle fastened over his face and both legs and arms tight under the weight of steel chains, the chances of escape were slim. Even the neural dampener wrapped around his head would prevent any connection to the force, so long as he remained in bondage.

After this transfer was done? Hecate would be the one to lop off the Jedi's head. All to the raucous applause of the Sith. Then, she would be the first to ascend into the position of a Sith Lord. The Dark Lord, if anything. The first to do in a year without self-proclamation. And with such power and authority at her fingertips, she would finally retake Munto Codru, and become its rightful Queen.

Hecate glares at the Barabel and taunts him, knowing he would not be able to respond. "So, tell me, do you have any final requests before I execute you live on the HoloNet? Maybe some lotion? I mean, you could use it." She laughs, before turning her back to the Jedi, satisfied. This was going to be fun.

@Narsi​

 

[Narsi]

Gren roared into the muzzle, thrashing about as best she could, once again trying to free herself. It was a vain effort, and one that left her gasping for air. The prison conditions, which had consisted of little food, water, and chances for rest, along with the recent beating she'd been subdued with, had left her exhausted and weak. Her lack of connection with the force though, the lack of warmth and light running through her, that alone was worse then everything else. It made her feel helpless, in a way she hadn't felt since her childhood and SHE HATED IT.

Again, she leapt into action, straining, growling, heaving with everything she had at her bonds. Only to fall back exhausted a moment later, even more tired than before. But a few seconds later she was back at it, unwilling, unable to give up. She was a Jedi, and Jedi NEVER gave up, especially not to a Sith, especially when she had the highest chance for escape in a while. If the sith woman was speaking the truth, a doubtful certainty for any Sith, than this could possibly be her last chance. Gren gathered her of strength and tried again, almost foaming into the muzzle now. This WAS NOT the will of the force, she just had to be strong enough.

It was honestly beginning to hurt, a lot, her bindings cutting into her molted rotting scales, her muscles cramping and burning. Gen pushed on, even as little rivulets of blood began to run down her arms, even as the numbing fog of unconsciousness began to cloud her mind and senses. Dazed and blinking, Gren gathered her strength, all she had, for one last attempt, reaching out for anything to boost her power. Her mind fell upon the Sith's taunting words from a few moments ago, and suddenly she had everything she needed for one last push. Hissing with pure hateful rage, Gren bit down on her own tongue and heaved, putting every last bit of power she had into it.

A loud cracking sound.....and suddenly she had some slack.
@Deviant

 

[Deviant]

This was what it felt like. To be in power, to stand atop the weak. And every passing moment of it was a moment replete with satisfaction. She was Dea Tacita Hecate, after all. Former Queen of Munto Codru and, currently, the pinnacle of the Sith Order. She was untouched, undefeated, unparalleled. Nothing would get past her and nothing would stand in her way. At least, up until her prisoner writhed out right of their chains.

By the time she had turned around, having ignored much of the thrashes and bitter grunts from the Barabel as nothing more than childish anger, the Jedi was free from his chains. They hadn’t simply slipped through, but through brute strength, the Knight had unmistakably snapped the metal shackles in two. Likewise, the force of the fracture had been so sudden, a wedge of the manacles shot forward, slamming right into the side of her head.

“Bitch!” She hollers, stumbling backward before regaining her balance. Two of the other guards who were accompanying her also stepped back, initially fearful, before jabbing the Barabel with shock pikes. What Hecate feared most, however, was the force that boiled within the Jedi. The neural dampeners were barely holding it back, but now that he was free, all he would have to do is tear it off his head to unchain the raw power within him. And if anything, Hecate was in no mood for a rematch.

“The neural dampeners! The fail-safe! Kill him!” She bellows at one of the guards, which so happened to have a control switch over the implant.

 

[Narsi]

Gren didn't stop to question her good fortune, or anything really, she was too hyped up on her own rage, pain, and exhaustion. Instead she just acted, instinctively, running on desperation and the adrenaline that flooded her system. Her first target? The stiffening neural dampener on her head, which she immediately reached for even as the guards jabbed at her with their weapons. She managed to narrowly avoid the first jabbing pike, while the second connected with her raised left arm. A flash of pain and her arm suddenly fell limp, numb and useless. It didn't stop her other arm however, and with a hiss of pain, she ripped the implant free, hurling aside at one of the guards.

It was just in time too, as a moment later, one of the guards managed to flip the kill switch. A moment after that, Gren finally managed to give in to the anger, rage, and hate that had been plaguing her since capture. A muffled roar, and she released everything, an icy shockwave of air and frost that exploded outwards from within. With the blast, a chilly fog covered the area, and Gren's remaining bonds froze over and shattered. Unfortunately, she wasn't ready for the sudden freedom, and immediately faceplanted as her limbs gave out beneath her. Lying there limply on the newly iced ground, gasping and bleeding, Gren reached for the force, properly, for the first time ages. Slowly, surely, the lightside began to flood her veins, a loving warmth that chased the pain and weakness away.

It felt different for some reason, a little less warm, a bit....darker than usual. Gren ignored it, happily gulping away at the power, letting it fill her in its entirety. Planting her remaining arm, she leveraged herself up, slowly regaining her feet, snarling all the while. Her first step, nudged against a moaning huddled figure on the floor. Closer examination revealed it to be one of her guards, also slowly rising from where he'd been knocked off his feet. Gren drove her heel down onto the gap between the head and shoulders with as much savagery she could muster, relishing the sudden crunch and consequent collapse of the trooper. Yes, it was finally time for some payback, time to deal the Sith scum the fates they deserved. She snatched the fallen man's shock pike from the ground with her good hand, spinning it crudely as she glared at her surroundings, still partially concealed by the icy mist.

"SITH, COME AND DIE!. THIS ONE WILL EVEN THE SCORE"
@Deviant

 

[Deviant]

Before Hecate could unleash another flurry of demands, or even jump in to finish the Jedi herself, she was suddenly thrown backward from a frigid and powerful wave of the force. She stumbled even further, letting a hiss slip out from her mouth as she felt frost gather around her cheeks. Still, she remains unfazed. Undaunted. Since joining the Sith, she had resided into the farthest reaches of Rhen Var. This cold meant nothing to her. What did unnerve her, however, was the power now coalescing around the Jedi. Darker, more potent. It was far more than what she had experienced on Ord Radama, and if anything, that made her livid with uncertainty.

But who needs the force when you’re among the best duelists in the Sith? No less one with twice the arms and twice the dexterity. Hecate would cut down this Jedi with ease, just as she was meant to back during the invasion of Ziost.

She rises back to her full height, and beneath her veiled robes, her hands tighten around each individual saber. In an instant, as the Barabel roared his threats, Hecate allowed all arms to shoot out freely. Crimson streaks of light, four in total, bursts forward from each hand, all pointed directly to the Jedi. Given she had never engaged them blade by blade, the Sith hoped her reveal would taunt the Knight, from which she would then feed on his fear before tearing him to shreds. A smirk grew across her face. “Let’s dance, chevin scum.”

Hecate launched ahead, all sabers moving in flashes of light. Her two lower blades, angled over one another, arc toward the Jedi’s torso. Like scissors, she would cut them clean in half. As for her upper arms, each would remain to guard her flank, but nevertheless ready to parry or puncture the Knight’s upper chest.

 

[Narsi]

The sudden burst of ignition through the mist drew Gren's attention, and when she finally laid eyes on her target, she saw red. Literally, as the Sith was holding four blood red lightsabers, which shone very brightly against the somewhat drab background. Most Jedi would probably balk at the number of blades Gren found herself facing, heck, Gren herself would likely hesitate under normal circumstances. But these weren't normal circumstances. She didn't have the luxury of flinching away, of hesitation or alternative routes. If anything, she was thankful for the rage they ignited, for giving her that extra push she needed to walk forward despite the danger. Oh, and the insults, those helped too.

Angry, desperate, fueled by a force high, Gren forgot that she'd never before wielded a pike-like weapon in actual combat and charged forward to meet the Sith. Like scissors, the enemy's blades, the lower ones at least, began to snip forward, aiming to bisect Gren in two as she neared. She couldn't block both, not safely at least, so she didn't bother. Instead, as she put her foot down, she PUT it down, stomping hard and fast, feeling the force flow through the limb and channel into the movement. And with that, Gren flew, blasting into the air on leg power alone, just barely clearing the scything blades beneath her as she went into a somersault. With a snarl, she lashed out with both her tail and the pike shaft, whipping them around with her revolution as she soared over the Sith's head, majestic as a spiraling piece of dung loosing smaller pieces of dung.

She would land, awkwardly, but safely a few feet off the Sith's other side, and would immediately spin around to face her foe. She would hold the pike, if she still held it, in a vertical defensive position, snarling all the while.
@Deviant

 

[Deviant]

As if Hecate was not already surprised enough by the strength of the Jedi, watching them miraculously defy gravity was the final nail in the coffin— this Jedi was insane. She would have never thought, or at least anticipated, seeing the massive, seven foot brute launching into the air. The Sith may have seen a great many things in her lifetime, from the sadistically intricate rituals of the prior Dark Lord to warped, twisted spirits of the ancient Sith, but never could she have imagined witnessing a five hundred pound clump of meat flying over her head. Even with the force, the idea was nothing short of impossible. But man, could she haven’t been any more wrong.

Hecate ducked her head low to avoid the brutish feet of the Jedi and their pike but nevertheless was smacked with the edge of his tail. She hissed and stumbled forward. While she regained her balance in a moment’s notice, her mind was rattled, and her resolve shaken. Her voice, low and dipped with newfound hatred, once again echoed through the corridor. “Who the flying shit do you think you are?”

With that, she lashes out once more, but rather than launching forward, she propels two of her lower sabers forward. Like a frisbee, each blade screams toward the Barabel, ready to shred him apart should he ignore her attack.

 

[Narsi]

Gren's return to earth was a triumphant one, gargling on victory as she spun on her heel. The pike strike had missed, but she'd felt her tail connect, it would be the first of many. Facing the Sith, Gren frowned at her question, opening her mouth to respond, only to be interrupted by the sudden streaks of red reaching for her life. A deep breathe, and she flipped the pile into a horizontal position, slamming it down suddenly into the incoming blades, all the way to the ground, impacting with a crash and bruising her fingers on the floor.

It was a close shave, the attack leaving matching minor burns on each side of her chest. But by leaning forward into the strike, Gren was narrowly able to pin the two blades to the ground with out being impaled, using the length of the pike to successfully stop both strikes, one lightsaber with each side. Down on the ground holding the pike, on all fours like her great lizard ancestors, Gren took the opportunity to snarl back a response to the Sith's earlier query. "This one, IS JUSTICE!"

Gagging suddenly, Gren felt the burns on her throb with agony, several scales dropping to the floor. Smirking a teeth filled grin, Gren continued gagging, letting the searing pain begin to move up her chest, and into her neck, and then into her mouth. Jerking up rigidly, Gren gave a final hiss, and then spit with all her strength up at the Sith. Except, what came from her mouth was not spit nor blood, it was a wad of fire, burning bright orange and yellow as it flew cheerily at the woman's face.
@Deviant

 

[Deviant]

One after another, the Barabel Jedi shattered her every move. The physics-defying flip into the air. Some petty, unexpected smack with its tail. Then, a defiant, unruly counter to her blades. They hadn’t even bothered to use the force to stop it, but rather with a quick whack of the stolen pike. Since when did they make those self-glorified batons lightsaber-resistant anyway? By the Emperor, if she had to continue to compensate for the stupidity of her allies, these Imperials, was serving the Sith even worth it?

After all, her prize remained with Munto Codru. Hecate was to be Queen, a ruler above all. But now, she was stuck attending to the work of a man who couldn’t even hold the Empire together. Everything was falling apart. Regardless of whether the Emperor triumphed over the rebelling Legion, did it matter anymore? Their fate was sealed. The Insurgency, Jedi Order, and the Dominion would pick apart the pieces that remained from then on. It would mean the end. Which made her question: was fighting this Jedi even worth it too?

Her thought, unsurprisingly, was answered soon after. In the following moment, just as she reached out with the force to pull her sabers back, Hecate watched as the Jedi began to spit fire. As in, literally spit fire. Shocked, it took all her focus to raise a force wall as she did before on Ord Radama, this time inches in front of her. Be that as it may, some of the flames seeped through, and fastened itself to her veiled robes.

“Bitch!” She screamed, infuriated as she tore the robes off completely to reveal her armored frame. Before she could lash out in anger, however, Imperial troopers poured into the corridor behind her. She hissed. “Get him! Kill him!” And as they flooded past her, she sunk back. In the end, fighting this Jedi was not worth her time. She had more important matters to attend to. So, melting into the guards’ advance, she offered a final gesture of farewell to the Knight— all four of her middle fingers.

 

[Narsi]

Her throat, it felt as if she'd just swallowed acid, and for a moment, Gren could only gasp with her mouth open, letting her charred tongue lap at the cool air greedily. It helped quite a lot, but what truly soothed the pain, was the sight of the Sith catching fire. Unfortunately, she didn't have much time to enjoy her mouthiwork before the situation took a sudden turn for the worse. Imperial troopers, clad in their distinctive armor, flooded into the corridor and at the Sith's beckoning, charged forward.

Scrambling to her feet, Gren also charged forward, hissing her rage and hate as she dodged blaster fire. She scattered them like bowling pins initially, hurling herself through the soldier mass with all she had. It wasn't long however, before the sheer numbers began to overwhelm her, and their blows started landing. A kick here, the butt of a blaster rifle there, and her strength was fading again. Slowly, surely, Gren was forced back, back to where she first started, and then farther down the corridor.

As the crush of soldiers weighed her down, Gren was just able to look over their heads still, angrily searching for the one target who mattered. Her gaze found the Sith, hands raised in an obscene gesture just as she melted out of sight. Eye's widening, she surged another step forward, only to get clubbed in the face by an armored fist for the fifth time that day. This one was enough to send her stumbling away, blinking at the sudden assault on her consciousness. The troopers followed, further pushing her back and down, until with a sorrowful hiss, Gren was forced to admit her defeat. Ashamed, disgraced, She disengaged, dashing away as the soldiers opened fire on her behind. Her tail, waving about wildly as she sprinted, was shorn in half as the tip was near instantly vaporized by a view lucky shots. Gren only gritted her teeth and powered on, a half stumble the only indicator of her new injury.

She turned the corner just in time, feeling the heat on her back from multiple near misses, gasping heavily. Her strength, the power she'd felt, it was fading faster now, and in its place was a dreadful heaviness and agony. Luckily, she didn't need much longer, for soon after turning the corner, Gren had seen her salvation. When the soldiers rounded the corner, they were just in time to find a empty hall way, and an open manhole cover with blood staining the front of it.
/exit thread

@Deviant