{Un-Barable Horrors}

[Dark child]

Bara
The desolate world.​

Sulfur. The air reeked of it. Etching the throats of all who set foot on the planet's surface.

A place, not fit for any living being, inhumane and unforgiving. Just like those who had been placed upon it's surface. This was their punishment. Their judgment. As seen fit by the Onderian hierarchy. Reclamation was never the purpose of the Bara Colony. Onderon did not wish to see it's incarcerated return to society. Bara was an absolute solution. It offered but one thing, and that was to suffer. Suffer for crimes committed against the great Houses that ruled the planetary system. For they were a force to be reckoned with, and this method of dealing with the deplorable skum that plagued their lands and skies appealed to them greatly. It was an example of might. Many that had found themselves captive on the planet's surface deserved death, yet they lived because the ruling houses had allowed it. It was a statement. Any that crossed Onderon would suffer till the end of their days, under Onderon guard, on Onderian lands. Sith, Jedi, royal, merc. It did not matter who committed the transgressions, or where they came from, once claimed by Bara, the planet would hold them, until their last breaths were that of sulfur, and all hope that remained in their minds had been eaten away by the heat.


Xanthier recoiled as the foul air entered his nostrils, it felt so dry in his throat, his acute sense of smell making it all the more pungent, his eyes watered as he opened them. He felt numb. His head swimming, voices on either side of him were dulled, and his muscles like rubber, immobile and loose, but still there all the same. Louder that that of anything of the outside world, was the pounding within his skill, a throb which pulsed with his heartbeat.

Inhaling deeply, his dry throat rebelled, the sound it made was raspy, that of something dying. Lifting his head, he tried to process just what was going on, and what had become of him. Strands of his own black hair obscured into his field of vision. Hair that was stuck together with sweat and body oils, the temperature unforgiving, his body still covered in the armor he had worn for so long. It insulated, only increasing the fatigue.

Of one thing he was certain, he was being dragged. Through the numbness, he could feel the hands which where wrapped tightly around his upper arms. His ears could hear the sound of his worn boots being dragged across the rocky ground. Ground which had every color of rust and darkness mixed into it, jagged and broken pieces of earth passed below him as he watched. This ground gave way to metal and darkness. For a short time, his feet still scraped across small rocks as he was taken within the structure, where the only sounds that remained were that of the footfalls of those who carried him, and the soft sound of his own boots sliding across the metal floor.

The pounding in his head had subsided to a dull pulse. His vision, slowly sharpening, along with his hearing, returning to what they had been before all this.

He began to recall..flying. Piloting a ship. The controls as his hands moved over them. The way the stars looked from within the cockpit.
What had gone wrong? Who's hands now grasped him so tightly? Where...was here?

Xanthier heard a great shifting piece of metal behind him, and the sound of two heavy pieces locking together. Something had closed. The rivets within the plates of the floor beneath him had rust attached to them. Crimson streaks of red.

Daring to look up just a bit, he could see that the room he had just entered was round and large, the metal black with oxidation. Filled with noise. Noise which was not pleasing in the least. That of calls, shouts and hollers. Some from far above his head. For it was a wide tower of cells, filled with undesirables. Stretching many stories up within the compound. Some of the inmates tried to spit down at him and the guards which carried his body, throwing whatever small bits of anything they could lay their hands on at the beings below. But their aim was off, and the walkway designed to prevent just such things from happening, so the drops of spit splattered down unto the metal floor like rain. Only the back-splash grazed Xanthier's face, and he began to realize just what kind of a place this was.

Gaining composure, he fought the numbness within his body. Willing it to be driven out. To be burned. To succumb to the hatred in which his very being revolved around. They passed through many halls, corridors, and gates, up winding steps. The guards were silent, uttering not a sound. Some areas were just as loud as the first, yet other were silent as the grave, and felt cold, like the metal which the facility was made out of.

Finally, when they reached the top of a set of steps, Xanthier rebelled against the arms which held him. Kicking forward off his feet which had been dead weight a moment before, he lifted them up, the shackles which bound them clinking as he did so, and shoved off the top step as hard as he could, forcing him, and those that held him, to tumble backwards down the unforgiving metal steps. This would hurt.

@Green Ranger @Black Noise @christhebarker @Comrade Matt

Want to join us? OOC Thread Information​

 

[e_black162_2]

"FRESH MEAAAT!!"
For the fifth time this week, Karlo awoke to the hooting of his fellow inmates as the new convicts were brought in.
Damn animals... He whispers to himself as he rolls over, trying to ignore them. The roars persist for a solid 5 minutes and eventually, he gives up and decides to take a look. The cold steel bed wasn't that comfortable anyway. He plants his bare feet on the ice-cold floor, and once the shock subsides, he stands and stretches before walking to his cell door.

Hmph. So that's whats got everyone so worked up. Karlo sees the scrawny man being dragged across the catwalk three floors down, and for a moment, feels bad for the guy.

Poor kid. They're gonna break him like a twig...

Karlo had been stuck here for nearly a year and has seen this scenario play out several times. Some petty thug was locked up in here with all of the galaxy's worst. All of the war criminals, the serial killers, the slavers, and worse called this hole their home, and now, so did the new kid. Past experience told Karlo that the new inmate wouldn't last a day before someone either claimed or killed him. It was best if he just didn't think about it, so he decided not to. Karlo turned back around and began doing push ups. After all, this was no place for the weak.

He stared into the polished, black-iron floor, watching his reflection mimic him as he counted to himself. 1-2-3-4-5-damn im getting ugly! Could use a shave about now...Krif, where was I? 36-37-38... He continued on like this for a minute or two until a loud clatter echoed through the tower followed by pained moans and yells.

The hell...?

Quickly, he stands and whirls around to see what went down. One of the guards from a moment ago was now sprawled out on the floor with a broken leg down at the end of the hall. The guard wailed as he looked down at his obviously broken arm, sending the inmates into a frenzy. Loud cheers and whistles rang out all through the tower and the convicts began pounding on their cells as if they could actually break out. The guards weren't taking any chances though, and a large switch was flipped, electrifying all of the cells. Karlo backed off a bit but still watched to see what happened next. Moments later, a squad of 8 guards armed with riot gear came swarming into the tower, dashing straight past their fallen comrade and into the corridor ahead.

Damn! Guess that kid wasn't so helpless after all!

Karlo'd never seen anyone manage to hurt a guard before, let alone attract the attention of an entire riot squad. This new guy might make a valuable ally after all...That is, if the guards don't beat him to death first.

(OOC: Feel free to offer any critique. I haven't written anything for almost a year and I fear I've gotten more than a little rusty.)

 

[Green Ranger]

​

Living in a super-violent maximum security prison really wasn't as bad as everyone made it out to be. Sure, there were the hourly brawls, the excessive beatigns from the guards that cared and the stabbings that occured when the ones that didn't were on duty. There was the lack of sanitary conditions, what with the dried blood and the loose teeth and various other bodily fluids on the floor and...pretty much every other surface. There was the maggot-riddled food and either the brown water that gave you violent diarrhea, or the black water that made you vomit. There were the illegal cyborg types and the aliens who could tear you apart with their bare hands if you looked at them wrong.

So, sure, there were a lot of things about the so-called Penal Colony on Bara that were good for building character. But the one thing, the one thing Anarchy Jones couldn't stand, it was the damned smell of rotten eggs from the sulphur pits. What kind of madman honestly thought building a prison on top of a giant stinking pile of sulphur was going to make for a calm, relaxing environment? Hell, there was a tenfold increased chance of a prison riot if there was increased volcanic activity within the prior 48 hours to any riot because, funnily enough, noone else liked no stinking egg-smell either. Rancid sweat and body odour was preferable to it - you wouldn't believe the lengths some of the prisoners went to to overpower the smell sometimes. It was just plain unsanitary.

Of course, the swing of an arm thicker than her waist, barely avoiding taking her head clean off her shoulders, reminded Anarchy rather abruptly that perhaps now wasn't the best time to be thinking about how much the prison stank right now. Mostly because she was currently enjoying - and she used that term loosely - some recreational time out in 'The Yard', which was basically a durasteel pen surrounded by walls patrolled by armed guards with a little bit of overcast and ash-filled sky way overhead, the closest thing to outdoors a prisoner got - unless you counted mining in the sulphur pits or avoiding fresh magma flows. Of course, as far as the guards were concerned, there were no rules in the Yard, and if inmates put each other into the ICU while letting off some steam then...well, that was two less prisoners they had to watch. Naturally in such an environment, women were something of an easy target. It was always curious how despite all their posturing and boasting, the men would always, always go for the targets they deemed posed the least threat. Rookie mistake. Every woman on Bara punched above their weight on a regular basis, and Anarchy herself was no exception.

Anarchy's playpal this particular day was Goron the Annihilator, a hulking brute of a giant sort of lizard-man hybrid thing who looked like he ate humans for breakfast - which wouldn't be out of the ordinary on Bara, since legally speaking cannibalism covered eating any sentient species and there were more than a few carnivores in the general population. At barely half his height, Anarchy was probably what Goron usually considered brunch, but, unluckily for him, he had bitten off far mroe than he could chew.

Because noone fucked with Anarchy Jones.

The brawl had already been going on for several minutes now and, aside from a ringing in her ears from a lucky first hit, Anarchy was holding her own well enough. The hulking lizard, however, was showing signs of fatigue; his enormous muscles were built for raw power over endurance, and the longer Anarchy ducked and dodged his swings, the slower and more clumsily they came. As he roared with frustration, swinging his treelike arm in a backhand swipe, his arm lingered just momentarily too long in a vulnerable position. Snapping like a cobra, Anarchy rolled under his reach, her hands grabbing his arm and twisting it up behind his back. The hulking lizard roared and struggled, but lackign the leverage, Anarchy held the advantage. Tensing her muscles as he twisted harder, there was a sickening popping, crunching sound as Goron's should dislocated from its socket, hanging limply by his side as the creature roared in agony. Anarchy leapt back and away from the furious flailing of his one good arm before once again ducking and sliding under his reach, her elbow slamming into the back of his knee, causing him to stagger and stumble. Hopping quickly to her feet, the woman leapt onto his back, her arms around his enormous throat in a full lock. Both Anarchy and Goron screamed out in a mix of pain and adrenaline, and with a sickening crunch the life left the lizard's eyes as he crumpled to the ground in a heap amid the cheers and jeers of the spectating inmates.

Of course, it was only after an inmate died that the guards ever stepped in, and as the sirens wailed and Anarchy fell to her knees, arms behind her head as the guards came up, stun batons striking any of the inmates who resisted. Anarchy never resisted, however. She knew the game.

"Hey, woah now, don't forget - I get his last meal tomorrow, right?" she said as a guard cuffed her arms behind her back. "Sure, sure, and his commissary. Same deal as usual, AJ." the guard said as he dragged her to her feet.

A night in solitary was totally worth it.
​

​

​

 

[vamp]

Annoyed, Malek watched the scene around him with disgust. Everyone around him was a savage animal, and he was stuck here with no aid. He hadn't planned his mission very well. Originally, he was meant to infiltrate the prison and speak to an acquaintance, for personal reasons, but everything went south when he learned that the contact had perished years ago, and his ship flew away to avoid risking arrest. Getting in was easy enough. He had just asked the captain to drop him off on the coolest bit of rock around, and so Malek had landed in the recreational yard. Since then, the guards treated him like a prisoner, even though they hadn't seen him before. Not that they cared.

That was a week ago. Now, he was in his cell, staring at the wall. He had sneaked his lightsaber in, just in case, but hadn't had a reason to use it. Attempting escape alone would be suicide, and no one around him seemed intelligent enough to hold a conversation, let alone escape one of the most guarded prisons in the galaxy. He had learned, however, that the cell bars were made out of durasteel. To his joy, a new prisoner was attempting to incite a rebellion, so he decided it was time to get out. As electricity ran through the bars, he stood. When the bars were fine to touch, he ignited his lightsaber, and stabbed it through one of the bars on the grid. It resisted a little, but melted, and he kept cutting, sawing out a square into the bars.

Malek kicked the bars out, and the entire square fell with a loud clatter on top of a guard. He leaped from above, the 5 meter drop no problem for him. He glanced ahead to see that the new arrival was wrestling down the stairs with two guards, and noticed a group of others hustling over. Lightsaber ignited, he stalked to meet them, and cut one down from the start. Another ran forward, only to perish. The others backed away, clearly unnerved and confused. Out of the 6 guards that had arrived, 4 were still alive. He engaged them, sweeping in a circle to kill them all.

 

[christhebetrayer]

the tribal tendencies of those in prison interested kann, spread rumour here, take something there and you can cause a gang war or get rid of a pesky individual. he had been only been there two mouths but within a month, he could manipulate the politics of the prisoners so he didn't need to get his hands dirty to get rid of a problem, not he couldn't do it himself but doing it his way meant that he wasn't the one that would get punished for it by the guards. they probably knew what he was doing but they probably didn't care or have the evidence for it just as long as someone was punished for it.

they say good things happen for those who wait. it often does but my waiting has yet anything good to come from it. I'll have to take action myself. he thought to himself as laid in his bed, eyes closed against the grey metallic ceiling. the banging and chanting quickly picking up as he laid there in silence. obviously, a newcomer, won't even last a week most likely he thought. then he heard the tumbling of someone and then activation of a lightsaber this grab his attention immediately open his eyes wide and launching from his bed to the doorway. there he saw a kid at bottom of the stairs with two guards quite badly hurt from a tumble down the stairs and some sith further down fighting the guards. good things do come to those who wait."hey sith, imperial legion over here. I think we can both help each other out," he shouts at him from his cell in hopes of getting is attention

 

[Dark child]

Wrought iron. Black, cold, unforgiving.

The boy had thrown himself at this very substance, his flesh weak in comparison to it. Down they went. Both guards and the pale skinned vagabond they had held.

The guard's instant reaction was to let go, to cast their arms out as a counter balance, despite there being nothing to catch their fall. Xanthier however, had different plans. He knew what was coming , and the moment they entered the air, his skinny fingers latched on to the guard's bulky forearm on his right. Clammy hands wrapping around and holding on tight as he brought the guards arm closer.

Closing his eyes as they fell, hoping beyond all else that the guard's body would absorb the brunt of the incoming blow.

Xanthier's head snapped back, slamming unto the metal chest plate of the guard who's arm he still managed to hold. So great was the force of their fall, that the individuals bounced, horrible screeches scratches and clanks emitted from the armor as it collided with the angular metal steps. It was then then they began to slide. Metal on metal as the momentum carried their bodies down the stairs. Xanthier saw nothing but the movement of the ceiling rushing past as he opened his eyes. The clanks no doubt heard throughout the tower.

The fall was brought to an abrupt end as the guard's shoulder jammed itself against the heavy wrought iron door at the bottom of the steps, halting movement instantly. Xanthier's body wanted to keep going with the momentum, and the side of his face hit the metal of the door despite the white knuckle grip he had had on the guard's arm. His nails pressed against the armor plate of the guard's brace so hard, they would certainly have drawn blood if the guard had any exposed skin.

Head still spinning from whatever substances he had been given and the fall itself, the boy began to pull himself together. Underneath him, the guard issued a groan of pain, slightly muffled from underneath his helmet. Glancing to his side, Xanthier could see that the other being that had held him had not fared well at all.

Sometime during the fall, the guard to his left had tumbled freely unlike the one with the extra weight of Xanthier on top of him, his leg having caught the edge of one of the metal steps, it was now broken badly, twisted forward. No blood showed through the armor, but Xanthier could see that some had begun to drip from the back of the leg. Regaining the breath that had been knocked out of him, this guard now cried out in utter agony. Something Xanthier knew he had to put a stop to.

The chains around his feet clanking as he shifted over to the man, Xanthier yanked off his helmet to be greeted by the silvery eyes of an echani, who's mouth was still opened in mid-scream. Xanthier clutched his throat and squeezed, immediately silencing him. He then brought the echani's head back, and slammed it into the wall behind him as hard as he could, causing a very small splatter of blood. Normally Xanthier would have tried to find something to kill him outright, but seeing as if the man posed a significant threat at the moment, he moved on. Knowing he'd have to act fast no matter what the outcome. The cells above began to yell in uproar.

It was too late however, for already the boy heard the sound of boots on metal. More guards approaching.

He glanced back up the stairs, he was fast and nimble, but to make it back up before they arrived with the chains on his feet would be nearly impossible. Still huddled over the echani's body, Xanthier reached for the guard's holster, removing the stun blaster which resided within. Further still, he shifted the man's unconscious body on top of his own at the very second the first guard entered the doorway. Xanthier wasted no time lining up the sights in the vague direction of the intruder, and squeezed the trigger.

The riot guard's body instantly became rigid and full of muscle spasms as the volts coarsed through him.

A flash of red passed him in the hallway, and that of refined boots. Boots that did not belong in a place like this. The red was unmistakable. The blade of a darksider, a Sith no doubt.

Riot guards enjoyed their job. Relished putting inmates back in their place with their superior numbers and weapons. Imagine their surprise when they saw such what was headed their way. The glow from a Sith warrior's blade. It was too late for them. Their riot shields, while phrik lined in some places, were a poor amalgam against the heat of the saber. It cut through the impure metal with some resistance, but more often then not the Sith just side-stepped around them elegantly, and thrust his blade forth into their armor, melting glowing holes in Onderian steel.

Xanthier watched all this from behind the body. His grey eyes peeking out curiously as the scene unfolded. For the first time in his life, a Sith had actually come to his aid. The man could easily have cut Xanthier down like the rest of them. He had to have seen the boy shift himself behind the body as he made his way down the stairs. Xanthier was uncertain how to process this development, he certainly did not like the Sith, who differed from the boy in many ways, but now was not the time to dwell on such things.

Shifting the dead weight of the body off him, he stood. Smoke still rose from the pile of dead at the Sith's feet, and if Xanthier didn't know better, the Sith looked quite prideful of it at first glance.

The boy advanced, grey irises locked on the Sith.
"Cut them."
He demanded as he drew near, pointing down at the chains which still bound his feet. Head still nauseous from the suppressant drugs that should have kept him passed out for many more hours to come.

From several floors above, a voice called out, clearer than all the rest. A legionary.
Xanthier didn't care. The legion were the Sith's instruments of war. Dogs meant to be slaughtered to teach their masters a lesson.The Sith would feel more compassionately towards for his comrade no doubt. Accepting them as allies would be difficult, but for the moment, it was the only choice the boy had.​

 

[vamp]

Malek turned as the last of the guards fell, the shield clattering to the floor. He saw a boy behind him, looking pale and weak. A boy that, if he had not incited the riot, would have doubtlessly been torn apart, to pieces, by the inmates here. On another occasion, Malek may have ignored the boy, but he was indebted to him for the opportunity.

"Cut them," the boy ahead said, his voice raspy from staying silent for long.

On another occasion, he wouldn't have let someone tell him what to do. But now, Malek nodded. "As you wish," he said, flicking his wrist downward and slicing the shackles on the boy's arms and legs. "Malek Maldor, at your service," he said, and then turned back around as more guards made their way down. He didn't wait for the boy to say his name, because there wasn't enough time, but he would listen if he did. Malek rarely missed the details. If not, he would just refer to him as "boy".

A legionnaire found his way down followed by other troops. He opened his mouth to give an order, but Malek cut him off. The Sith looked into the man's eyes, and silently beckoned on the dark side to aid him. As energy coursed through him, he felt powerful, and the words he uttered carried that power. He said the sentence as though it was true. "He's with me. Defend us as we depart."

Nodding, the legionnaire turned and said something to his troops. A few seconds later, they were making their way back up, assaulting all guards coming ahead. It was only a small band of troops, however, and they were bound to be overwhelmed soon. Wordlessly, Malek followed, waving to the boy to come along.

@Dark child

 

[Sly]

The light flickered over head the poorly lit, dampened room. Solitary. A small metal chair sat in the middle of the space with a set of poorly designed restrain cuffs piled on the ground near it. A simple restraint wasn't holding Alyse; surely these guards would have caught on by now.. The woman sat in the chair silently, picking at her finger nail with a makeshift blade she had managed to acquire from one of the local pond scum that inhabited this rusty hell-hole.

The room was deathly quiet, however, the sound of dripping moisture from the ceiling above her would be enough to drive even the strongest of men to insanity. Fortunately for Alyse, sanity wasn't her strong suit anyways. She sat reflecting on everything that had led her to this point. It was all a blur of a timeline but she recalled the events over and over in her head everyday like clockwork. That kid. That fu****g bothan was the reason she was trapped here. It was a mistake not shooting him as soon as he had walked in the door looking for money back in that bar, but she gave him the opportunity to make some credits and she paid the price for it. The more she thought about it, the harder she pressed down on her crafted knife; Eventually causing herself to accidentally poke a very small hole on her finger.. She watched the blood fill the newly formed space, dripping down towards the floor slowly. It ran crimson and warm down her hand. It was the simple things that gave Alyse pleasure and the sight of blood was a newfound pleasure.

Her silence was soon interrupted by the sound she had been waiting to hear, her chance to have a little more fun. The cell doors were solid metal, but they left enough of a space between the floor and the base of the door panel to allow every little movement to be heard from the hallway outside. A pair of guard boots approached with a prisoner, she wasn't sure if it was the same girl she had known about, but it was definitely a female being transferred. Alyse had heard about another woman raising trouble in the yard before, she hoped that she was now neighbors with the troublemaker.

Alyse took action, waiting to hear what sounded like the nearby door being sealed. She needed the guard to open her door. Quickly, she poked a bit more of the blood out from her palm, wiping the liquid on her hand to work as a make-do fingerpainting kit. She quickly smeared a hand print on the dusty, faded reinforced glass with a trailing path of blood down to the edge of the frame. Moving out of the windows view, hugging the wall nearby, she screamed out "OH GOD, PLEASE PLEASE HELP. I'M BLEEDING OUT, GET MEDICAL HELP. I DON'T WANT TO DIE". This call for help was followed by the faked sounds of puking and choking. She figured this would be enough to get a guards attention, concealing her blade under her wrist within the prison-issued uniform shirt she had received. This was her chance.

 

[Green Ranger]

​

"A lightsaber. You're shittin' me, right?"

Several levels above on the catwalks overlooking the cellblock, Anarchy looked down at the unfolding chaos, a scowl on her face as she watched multiple guards be cut down by the sudden and rather obvious breakout of the Sith as he cut a swath through the poor idiots who rushed to face him. Anarchy had met her fair share of Sith in her time, and the site hardly bothered her in the least. No, she was rather more miffed at what his presence suggested.

"So which one of you A-holes was manning the full body scanner the day someone got through with a freaking lightsaber shoved up their colon?!" She snapped at one of the guards, who visibly flinched. "I mean, what the hell am I bribing you people for anyway if people can just smuggle weapons in, no problem? Shit, I've been wasting my time on spice when I could be creating an army of degenerates to simply take over the damn prison like I'd wanted to in the first place. But nooo, you guards said you'd play ball, that you'd cooperate, that this would be a chance for me to lie low for a while if everyone still assumed the prison was running properly."

It hadn't been hard to pay off a significant chunk of the guards, in all honesty. Stuck on Bara, sweltering in armor every day for a pittance while the prison administration watched from afar on a separate installation? Most of the guards didn't get paid enough to deal with the conditions of Bara, let alone the inmates. A few greased palms was all it took for word to spread. Anarchy wasn't the only major player in the prison, by any means - she was a small fry, if you asked anyone in the know. But Anarchy was playing a different game entirely - the prison gangs could have her fun as long as things more or less ran smoothly in between the turf wars, but anyone that tried to turn on Anarchy or any of the guards she controlled tended to turn up...sooner or later, and often in various states of dismemberment.

So yeah, Anarchy was going to take a slight offence to someone just massacring guards left right and center, and she didn't care that he had a lightsaber - he was a nuisance. Snatching a bowcaster from one of the nearby guards - who gave little more than a stifled squeak of protest before catching himself and remembering who he was dealing with - Anarchy cocked the weapon, took careful aim down from above at the Sith as he swung his blade at the four surviving guards, and squeezed the trigger, the projectile flying through the air with deadly precision to hit him square in the chest - or, blast him off his feet with a explosion that could easily be lethal to an unarmored prisoner. Whether or not it actually was lethal or even injured himwas of little concern to Anarchy. She just needed the idiot to stop with the rampage for a minute before the administration on Nothon caught wind of the unfolding massacre on Bara and put the facility - and the planet - on lock-down. Noone was getting out alive if that happened.
​

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[e_black162_2]

Karlo watched as the chaos unfolded below him. The guards were being slaughtered by what looked like Sith warriors, and by the looks of things, were even beginning to submit to the warriors.

Guess thats my cue...

Karlo walks back to his bed and retrieves a knife he'd stashed underneath as well as a half-smoked cigar. Now armed, he returns to his cage door and puts the cigar up to his lips and yells:

"Vosk! Gimme a light would ya?"

His voice echoed through the halls and for a moment everyone was silent. The inmates all turned first toward Karlo, and then to the cell next to his. They looked on in fear as a booming voice roared from within the darkness. The noise echoed throughout the entire prison and everyone knew who it was. Four hands reached out of the dark cell and grabbed the electrified bars. Ignoring the intense pain, they began to pull. The hall filled with the sounds of twisting metal until evenually the bars were ripped clean off their hinges. What was left of the cell door was tossed over the ledge to the floors below and out of the darkness stepped a 7 foot Cordu-Ji. The inmates began to cheer again as the beast of a man walked over to Karlo's cell and repeated the feat, again throwing the door over the ledge. For a moment, he basks in his own glory, flexing and roaring at the other inmates until...

"Ahem." Karlo looks up to the Cordu as if he was expecting something.

The alien's eyes lit up as he recalled his orders. He reached out with one arm and grabbed Karlo's left hand. Carefully he raised it up to Karlo's face and and popped back the thumb. A small flame came out and they used it to reignite the old cigar.

"Heh. Alright, lets go. We need to make a call."

To everone's surprise, Karlo walked out of his cell, going straight toward the warden's office with Vosk following behind like a loyal dog. They make it halfway across the third floor before another squad of riotguards charge in from ahead.

"Hold it! You can't just leave!" The leading guard barks.

"Sorry, but our vacation's over. Gotta get back to work." With that, Karlo snaps his fingers and Vosk springs into action. The leader tried swinging his blade at the beast but the top two arms caught it. The lower two ripped his shield away and then his sword arm. The guard slumped to the floor, bleeding from his missing limb. He tried to get up, but Karlo gave him a swift kick to the head, knocking the man off of the catwalk. Another guard attempts to attack but Vosk bashes him with his new shield and launches him over the edge as well. One by one, the guards are launched over the edge to their deaths as Karlo and Vosk push forward. Two of the guards tried firing at the inmates with bowcasters, but the shields made Vosk almost indestructible from the front. The two met the same fate as their comrades: dropped head first off of the third floor catwalk. Karlo snagged one of their bowcasters and, now armed, the two pushed on. As he enters the third floor control room, He turns back to the guys on the first floor.

"Meet me in the trash room, at the back of the prison, just past solitary." He commands. "I have a proposition for you."

And with that, Karlo turns and walks into the control room. He and Vosk execute the guards and find the terminal in the back of the room behind a big desk. Karlo sits down and begins pressing buttons. After a bit, the cells are no longer electrified and a electronic voice asks, "Would you like to open any cells?"
A devious smile comes over Karlo's face. The PA system dings and his grizzled voice comes over.

"Hey everybody! RIOT!"

With a loud buzz ALL of the third floor cells swing open, letting out hundreds of the galaxy's worst.

"Now, lets make that call..."

 

[Sly]

Alyse prepared as the door slowly began to creak to life. The sound of grinding metal and rust chipping away at the aged prison walls echoed through the room as the gears holding the metal barrier in place came to life. The stale stench that had overcome the room was replaced by a new, equally toxic smell of burning sulfur. The temperature began to shift as the heavy slam of a guard's boots began to move into the doorway. This was the moment she needed, her time to raise a little hell. As the guard approached the entryway, Alyse clenched the cloth wrapped handle of the makeshift blade that she had concealed in her sleeve, "Wait until he gets close" she thought to herself.

The beast that entered the room wasn't nearly as intimidating as she thought he would be. Surely they would have stepped up patrol gear after she had tossed the last guard over the catwalk railings. Talk about amateur hour, this guy was something of a prisoner himself. A prisoner with a undeserved sense of authority. There was no control in this prison, only different colored uniforms that supposedly made a difference in the amount of respect the wearer was supposed to be given.

Alyse chuckled to herself lightly as the obviously new recruit of a guard entered with his sidearm drawn, trembling as he faced the bloodsoaked girl. "Prisoner, what is the issue?" the lightly armored tin can muttered. Avoiding eye contact, Alyse looked at the floor to see the blood dripping from her hands trickling onto the dirty metal slab. She needed to play the part, she needed him closer. "My... My hands.. H-help" Alyse cried to herself. "I see light..". As these words echoed the cell, she could feel the guards presence move closer. Now was her moment.

All in an instant, Alyse dropped her body limp forward in an attempt to force the guard to react. Functioning like clockwork, the armored lug took the bait. She suddenly found herself with her arms around the back of the guards thin rubberized chest protection. He had caught her by the waist and played the fool role like an expert. In a motion, Alyse slide her hidden weapon into her hand, clenching it tightly. "The light... It was actually for you" she said as she jabbed the blade into the back of the guards neck. The tip of the weapon was lost somewhere in the flesh of her victim but the flow of crimson heat that covered her hands seconds after told her that her plan had worked. This was followed by a grunt and then a slow sigh as the guards eyes faded into the distance.

She slid the blade back out, pushing the bulking mass of her former plaything onto the floor. "Thanks for the good time, call me". She said as she bent down, blowing a kiss to the corpse.

The hallway was roaring with commotion nearby, it was time to make some friends.
She needed the sight of some fresh blood.

 

[vamp]

Something was off. As he swung his lightsaber onto a defenseless guard, Malek felt a warning. It was the type of feeling you get when you're being watched. He swiveled, and saw an arrow flying toward him. A bit farther off, he could see the shooter (@Boli). Slightly perplexed by the fact that a prisonier was shooting at him (shouldn't they be grateful?), he stepped to the side, and dashed forward. He knew what was about to happen, although the shooter probably was too near-sighted to realize the consequence of their actions.

The arrow slammed into a guard's shield. The guard, happy to live, was in the process of shooting at Malek when he slashed the man's arm off. He slashed at the guard's midsection now, and simply took the shield from the corpse. Shield in one hand, lightsaber in the other, Malek decided to go on the defensive now that he was facing more opponents, and headed back to help the boy (@Dark child)

 

[Dark child]

Steel gave way under heat. The chains severed. Molten metal now cooled at the boy's feet. The Sith's blade had passed through unhindered.

The youth should have been grateful, but Xanthier was unsure how he felt about the refined man who called himself Malek. Who, at the moment, was enjoying himself thoroughly as he cut down several guards that had just entered through the corridor. The Sith's Legionaries were no where in sight, and Malek seemed to have no regard for this at all, simply continuing with his slaughter. The boy suspected that Legionaries had met their fate somewhere in the hallway, but he did not wish to stick around to find out, and the prison was so full of shouts now he couldn't discern the screams of the guards over the uproar. The entire cell block was excited beyond belief. There hadn't been this much action in years, and when you're serving life the spectacle must have seemed like a gift from the gods. Chants of various types broke out among different gangs, but in the end, all seemed to come together to form a single deafening chant that resounded throughout the halls. The stomping of feet and the clapping of hands. Cheering on the one Sith that had dared to challenge the guards, and was winning...for now.

As the sound began to flood the boy's ears he began to back up towards the stairwell which he had tumbled down moments before. He hated it, such horrible noise. Reminding him of long weeks, devoid of sleep, he had been forced to endure under the watchful eyes of the researchers that had raised him. Through it all, in his phased state, he still managed to squeeze off several shots from the Mercy stun gun which he held in his hand so tightly his knuckles turned an even paler shade of white. Missing all except except two of the shots, which struck guards haphazardly. One in the shoulder, one in the chest. The rest of the beams of energy defused into the walls, leaving small scorch marks.

It wasn't usually like this. Xanthier craved chaos. He was a hunter by nature. Easy prey. Catch them when they are weak, fight them on your own terms. He was a being of the wild, and simply did not belong here.

The Sith was doing an incredible job holding his own against the onslaught, but as Xanthier watched, a single bolt shot from one of the overhead railings towards Malek, who barely avoided it in time.

Dispatching the guard that it struck, Malek rushed over to the boy once more, his eyes alone ushered the boy to continue, and the boy could already tell that the Sith was a bit unimpressed with his actions thus far.

As Malek neared the entryway to the stairs, the com system burst on at full volume.

"HEY EVERYBODY! Riot!!"

A cheer, louder than ever before, emitted from every cell.

The buzzer went off, and from then on out, chaos ensued.

As the cell doors opened, inmates flooded the upper levels, and mere seconds later, Xanthier heard impacts while he and Malek ascended the steps. Dull thuds against the metal floor which rang out like gongs amidst the steady tone of the uproar. Objects had fallen from above, and this time, they had not been drops of spit, but rather the guards being thrown off the rails.
This, was going to be one hell of a ride...

​

 

[Sly]

It was only seconds into the hallway that Alyse began to hear the cheering of men, women, and creatures alike in the cell blocks nearest her location. This was a full scale riot. She loved a bit of action, but she wasn't a fool, something like this would kill her if she stayed in the open. Alyse knew she had to put her plan to action.

Finding the nearest elevator, she noted a guards corpse slowly bleeding out. There will still dulled moans from the body but she couldn't be bothered to waste more time. The guards badge was laying in the open and Alyse needed an ID to use the lift anyways, "Lucky day", she thought to herself as she ran the swipe of the card. The elevator seemed to draw to life, gears crunching like the sound of teeth shattering. It was at the sound of a "ding" and the sight of a dull green light that was so faded it was beyond reading that the woman found herself entering the steel box. She pressed the highest button on the panel, something reading "Maintenance Floor C-362". This would be an easy slaughter to freedom, most of the staff would drop their equipment and run as she started the bloodshed.

The waited patiently as the rickety elevator seemed to sway her towards the top. Suddenly it stopped. Not just at a floor, everything stopped. She looked to the ceiling of her new confinement and watched as the lights faded dull. This elevator was disabled. Millions of thoughts rushed to her head at once but she quickly convinced herself it was only because the riot, not an issue with Administration.

There was no point in staying here any longer than she had to, it was time to keep moving. Alyse ran her hand across the top of the elevator ceiling until she felt a panel move, the emergency hatch. She lifted herself out of the dimmed cage and found herself standing on top of it. There were only two steel cables holding the lift in place. Alyse ran her eyes up the cables only to find that her trouble was just beginning. As she watched, a random floor had forced it's elevator doors open and the prisoners weren't taking kindly to the place. There was a lot of prisoners spitting and catcalling at her but this wasn't the issue, the issue was the big, brolic looking one that had found a large construction saw. Carrying it with both hands, Alyse could only watch helplessly as the man began to chip away at the cables keeping her in the air, she needed an escape now or she would be free falling back down.

There were no ladders on the sides of the shaft, just dim red bulbs spread 15 meters from one another going vertically in the shaft. There was a new sound, something that completely zoned her out of her worries about the cable cutter. An elevator on the shaft next to hers. She could see it approaching from below and readied herself to jump. This was her one chance to make this out alive, it was time to jump ship. Alyse bent her knees, jumping to the blackness of the approaching lift only to be quickly swept back down onto hard metal. Her plan had just gone to hell.

She wasn't sure what had happened but it was evident that the cable had been cut and the elevator swooped into the next shaft. The metal on metal collision was deafening as the box slammed the other and they both began to grind down the shafts, leaving sparks as they trailed down. Everything was happening so fast but Alyse knew she wouldn't survive on the outside of these. She tried pulling the emergency door of the new elevator open but it was wedged shut. She looked as the elevators plummeted, scared with a feeling she hadn't felt in a long time, a loss of control. The lifts were in an upside down V-shaped as they chipped away at the metal and concrete of the shaft the grinded down. Smoke was filling the tunnel as they traveled deeper, all Alyse could sense was that she was clinging to life by the handle of the emergency hatch that she had once thought to be her escape. Suddenly, Black. Unconscious and bloodied, the woman's body laid limp on the interior of a ruined elevator. They had hit a stopping point and Alyse was propelled through the hatch. A puddle of blood pooled under her as she faded in and out of awareness. She heard voices approaching but couldn't bear the strength to move..

 

[Enuf]

Quiet, Damp, the small four-by-four room kept the Sith enclosed inside. The Only light he gained was that from his Cybernetic Eye, a dull crimson that would glow when he was awake. It had been sometime since Luca, Son of Lord Jissard found himself captured by the Mandalorian on that fateful day. He was sloppy, arrogant and didn't seem to care what came of him during that mission. Hatred and rage took over his mind, plaguing it like a diease he failed to recall the name of the person who put him here, though vividly remembered the armor and markings. The Damages done to his body had healed over time. The Dreaded thought of abandonment had set in on the Young Sith Lords mind, his Father was not coming for him.

Grinding of gears echoed quietly in his cell, this metallic hand remained functional and he was not stripped of these. The Process might of out-right killed him, and the Doctors if the Sith easily felt like it. Standing slowly to his feet, a deep breath came from Luca as his brows furrowed. Stuck in a literal box because of the dangers he posed to the personal of the Prison. Ears perking up as the a explosion rocked the small cell he was in, a distant sound of clashing metal on metal contact rattled through the hallway and was mumbled by the Blast Door that contained him, a standardized alarm began to ring out as a sickening smile came across the Sith. "Father must of arrived..", the PA System echod and bounce around "HEY EVERYBODY, RIOT!"

Playful words for the Sith, his eyes winced as the door slid open exposing him to the chaos that was sweeping through the Prison like a tidal wave. As the Door opened it expose Luca to the back of a Bara Guard, who seemed to be reaching for his standardized Vibro-Sword. He, as well heard the door opening behind him as he turned to face the towering Sith, Gathering a glimpse of the his form. He was by far, no small man. He was built like a literal brick-shit house, covered in the many scars of battle. The blade pulled itself from the sheath with a stratifying rasp as the Guard automatically rushed Luca in a second. The Guard brought his hands over, going to strike down through the shoulder-blade of the Sith, who has yet to drop his wicked smile. Spilt-Second, a sickening crunch was heard as the Cybernetic Hand latched around the wrist of the attacking Guard "Neat tricks come with this.." he would cackle, the sound of unbolting joints and twisting rotors would echo through the chaos as the wrist itself spins violently, twisting the Guards wrist in a odd direction with a sickening crack of metal and bone as the sword clattered to the ground with a ear piercing scream "I'll...do you a favor, tell me where they held my gear and I will let you live. Spare you from the chaos that will happen in the next few hours." He pushed him onto his knees, easily overpowering the man as he couched up a painful response "Secruity Room C-3912, P-plea-!", nothing came from him other then the faint yelp of pain as the Boot of the Sith collided with his helmeted form sending him over the remaining railing and smashing into the other platforms as he fell the several levels downwards. Wrapping his hands around the blade of the Officers he picked him up, taking up a deep breath, Luca spun on his heel with a grace as he marched his way down the Catwalk.

 

[christhebetrayer]

Who knew this place was powder keg ready to explode and all .....it .....needed .....was .....a ....simple ....spark and BOOM. chaos everywhere.

And chaos is what is needed. Not too much and not too little. Just enough to get out without the place burning down and unnoticed. As Kann's cell door slid opened, he new where he was going. They have his property and he's not leaving until it's returned. So his first port of call is the armoury to take it back. As he takes the first steps from his cell, stretching his arms as he observes the sight before him as prisoners vs guards and occasionally prisoners fighting each other. "Time to go to work" he says to himself before climbing over the railing of the metal walkway. Taking a deep breath before jumping down to the ground floor below and landing with a roll into the fray of guards and prisoners.

Immediately as he breaks out of his roll a guard engages him. Charging Kann with a stun baton with a powerful right swing hoping for it to connect to the head. Kann ducks and sidesteps under the swing throwing the guard off balance. Now behind the guard he kicks him in the back of knee to bring him down. Now on his knees Kann promptly snaps his neck with a swift single motion before he ocould react. He makes his way through the cell block taking out any guard that got in his way quickly, as was not his ally today.

As he made his way through the cell blocks and the hallways of the prison, fighting when necessary but otherwise avoiding it. As he approach the armoury he slowed his pace as he approached the corner that lead to the armoury. Peaking his head around the corner he spots a squad of four riot guards in full combat gear guarding the entrance, Kann spotted one had a code cylinder, obliviously a officer but really question is would it give him access to armoury and how to get it? As he looked around for some thing to use to help his situation he spotted the foot of a guard stuck in a storeroom door he passed. As he investigated further he found the guard was dead which was good meant he could steal his uniform, it had quite a bit of blood on it but he could play that to his advantage. So he began stripping the body.

As he left the storeroom in his new attire making sure everything looked legit, he turned the corner and began acting out his injuries, screaming "help!!!" to the guards as he walked limping toward them and clutching his side which where covered in blood. As he approached he did a fake collapse towards the officer who captured and held him up on his shoulder. Kann began to explain what happened "I was ambushed by a prisoner when I went by the storeroom. He got me pretty good but I managed to get the better him of but he had a comlink and more his buddies are coming, they'll be coming from that direction" he says point from the direction he came from. As he does this he slips his other hand resting on the shoulder above the pocket with the code cylinder into it and pulls the code cylinder out and slips it into his sleeve as the officer turns back to face him. "You two come with me and you stay here and guarded the and while you're at it patch him up and send him on his way. What's your name again?" He asks
"Jace, Jace Lorrin. New transfer." kann grimaced try acting in pain to sell his story.
"Alright, you heard my orders let's get moving" he says before doing a slight jog down the hallway as his other two guards follow him. Leaving Kann alone with a single guard. As soon as the other group left sight and ear shot. Kann immediately attacked, kneeing the poor guard in the gut much to his surprise. Collapsing to the floor in a groan the guard was completely winded, Kann proceeded to punch while he was down to knock him unconscious which would buy him enough time to get what he needed. He inserts the code cylinder into the door control system and as the door opens a slow grin appeared Kann's face.

 

[Sly]

The thick smell of smoke and ash riddled the dented, bloody metal. Alyse found herself laying somewhere between life and death, clenching her wrist in agony. It was bad enough she had been propelled through the elevator's poor excuse for an emergency door, why did she have to land directly on her arm? Her once dirty white hair now laid in a pool of blood, soaking up crimson shades of the warm liquid.

She had heard the rush of people running around nearby but simply laid in a dazed and confused state in an attempt to muster the energy to move around. Finally, she began to use her un-injured arm to slowly slide the rest of her body up on of the toppled walls and onto her feet. She had felt pain before and even tried to simply ignore the feeling, however this was too harsh not to notice.

Once up, she coughed her way through what looked to be the broken entryway for one of the bottom floors of the shaft. She limped her way through the blown-out doors to find herself in a darkened, dusty room. She saw a dust covered sign on one of the doors and ran her hand across the metal panel to reveal the a symbol. It appeared that she had fallen into one of the old transport areas that were long abandon from past years. Rumors flew around the prison that there was a full-scale underground subway system that connected the large installation to the rest of the world beyond the gates, but many had ever thought much of it. This was good and bad for Alyse. She was in a new, uncharted and potentially dangerous situation; However, it was peaceful and quiet for the moment.

The room she had stepped into appeared to be one of the stations for which, she assumed, arriving prisoners would be dragged off the train and forced into their new hell-hole. For some reason, even though the station appeared to be completely abandon, it appeared that the dim lights were still being powered. "Maybe someone just didn't feel like going back down stairs to hit the switch?" she thought to herself with a mild chuckle. Somehow she still managed to retain a sense of humor when facing a less than fun situation. A large metal door creaked in the distance on one of the walls near the stairway that led back into the upper floors. It looked worth investigating.

The dust-ridden metal slowly pushed against the door frame that it was bolted into; A pane of what was once probably reflective glass sat next to it, looking darker than the wall it clung to. This appeared to be some sort of administration area. Alyse pushed the door open with a large creaking sound. To her surprise, the inside of the room was rather well kept and hadn't seemed to take too much of the damage that the outside had. She walked turned the corner behind the door to reveal a set of large monitors and a radio system that faced the window looking outwards. There were white tiles covering the floor with pale-painted concrete walls surrounding the room. It was only a moment after she began observing the room that the door slammed behind her and a voice came over the interior, "Welcome. I've been waiting for my next visitor".

 

[Redmerc]

How was Skorphoxx supposed to know that the Onderon people were against slavery, ridiculous!


It had been five years since his capture at the hands of the Onderon guard following his establishment and failed running of a slave trafficking ring on the planet. For five years he had been forced to endure the constant smell of sooty sulfur, screaming of other inmates and the bored ruthlessness of the guards within the prison, and to be honest, it was just like home! Despite the arguably long time that had passed since his capture, it only felt as though it had been yesterday that he was placed in captivity, five years seemingly nothing to the Hutt who had the potential to live for perhaps another millennium.


Even though his tenure had been short, Skorphoxx decided to make the most of his time within the prison and be as big of a nuisance as he was physically able to the guards. If one were to ask about the Hutt, they would know just how much trouble he had been during his stay. Fighting other inmates to death was commonplace, fighting the medical personnel that came to their assistance was also part of his routine, before finally attempting to beat up as many guards as he was physically able before he was inevitably pelted with stun bolts which would usually see the end of his day. Had the Onderon guard known he was going to be so much trouble upon his capture, they probably would have ordered his execution straight away, but then again, who could have known that a Hutt was so physically capable? Not the guards, that much was clear. Because of his constant trouble making, Skorphoxx had become restricted and disallowed from many of the other privileges that the other inmates were afforded. He was no longer allowed to interact with other inmates, or even leave his cell, on the brightside, his meals were now hand delivered straight to his room!


On yet what was just panning out to be another ordinary day in paradise, Skorphoxx ‘sat’ (for lack of a better word) in his cell. The floor was covered in a green gelatinous slime trail from where the slug had been pacing, his cell no longer being cleaned due to the demise of the last guard who had attempted to do so. For now, the Hutt remained quiet, his eyes shut as he listened to the various ‘pleasant’ noises of the prison. Truth be told he had grown accustomed to the noises around him, the various screams and moans from his fellow captives having become the equivalent of birds chirping in the morning.


*SPLAT* was the sound that was made when a particularly nasty guard spilled the contents of his meal on the ground. “Enjoy that you slimy slu-” The guard was cut off by the intercom sounding:


HEY EVERYBODY! RIOT!!!


A smile would form on the putrid maw of Skorphoxx as the cell door then opened. It was as if the Hutt was able to almost literally hear the gulp from the guard as the barricade between them was suddenly removed. Approaching, the guard frantically tried to grab at the bowcaster at his back but ended up tripping on the mixture of slime and prison slop which he had deposited on the ground. The Hutt would then slither up towards the downed man as quickly as he was physically able, easily covering the small distance between the two of them. Ripping away the bowcaster from his grip he would then grab at his neck with his immense strength, hoisting him up as he slowly began to move towards the railing which was the likely demise of this particularly sadistic guard. Unfortunately, for the aforementioned guard, Skorphoxx’s sadism was much greater. Holding him in the air over the railing for a few moments, the guard would kick and scream in terror, the Hutt letting out a mighty bellow of a chuckle before releasing his grip, allowing him to fall to his death/grave injuries several feet below. Not bothering to watch the man fall to his death, he would aim his bowcaster at the two inmates in the cells adjacent to his, thwarting their attempt to escape, firing a stun bolt at each of them before continuing to slither on his merry way.


The real question on the Hutt’s mind though was: How the hell am I getting out of here?