Blood and Wine [Sith Mission @ R-7]

[Jake]

Spoiler: OOC

Two people can jump in to oppose us. This thread is death-enabled if we get into a fight. Since my profile does not elucidate much on her combat style, she is skilled with a lightsaber and focuses on physical Force powers, but is proficient in mental attacks. Unless someone takes issue with it she uses sorcerous objects acquired in her travels which make it difficult to discern her thoughts and leave her "footprint" difficult to pinpoint in the Force, neither of which should be particularly relevant in a duel. She wears padded robes that could soak a bodyblow or cushion an impact without weighing her down, and has two lightsabers but only uses one at a time.

This thread's context is briefly explained in its sister mission, Ascension.

If the soup-drinkers had their way, all offworlders would confine themselves to the spaceports floating in planet's upper atmosphere. Dirtside it was difficult to find accommodation if you didn't have a pair of bloodsucking tentacles dangling from your face. For this reason and many others, not the least of which was the fact that she towered above most of the natives with her impressive height, Tsurumah stood out when she went dirtside. From valley to mist-choked valley she stalked her prey. In her search she had exhausted every locale of passing affluence on Anzat, and yet Karo Varn's underlings kept a quiet profile. Vampires of considerable age themselves, they had centuries of experience eluding the hunters that would deliver them to their final rest. Her contact had better luck, however. He was a man who understood the decadent for what they were.

And as he had told her, there were few places on a world as ugly as Anzat for the powerful to flex that power. He sent her coordinates leading to one of the Anzati stone spires peering over the peaks of the surrounding mountain range. At its highest point it was lopped off to create a plateau suitable for the sanctuaries of Anzati's most wealthy and most disturbed inhabitants. There, drenched in rain and lost in the perennial mists, Tsurumah found herself on the third floor of an establishment tentatively identified by the Aurebesh sign outside as BLOOD AND WINE. Entering, she saw quickly that the restaurant catered to even the most exotic tastes... no matter how offensive to modern sensibilities.

Her contact was waiting on the third floor. From this side, the tile underfoot was transparent to allow her to peer at the diners on floors below. Beneath them were those whose milder inclinations did not demand the secrecy that Tsurumah found when she entered. Each booth was veiled behind a gossamer curtain to protect the privacy of those within. The floor was dark, lights dimmed for perfect ambiance. An Ithorian intoned in deep baritone the tragic tale of the life, death and reincarnation of their world-god from a secluded corner of the room. Immediately, she reached out in the Force so that her consciousness enveloped the space, her mind reaching out to every other ... the waves of their perversion crashed over her and were promptly swept away by the more pressing matter of her own hunger, one only violence could satisfy.

She slipped into a booth opposite her partner in the bleak performance that had been programmed for the night's entertainment. He had ordered for her. A half-finished bowl of spice still smoldered in the hookah set up on the table beside them. Sitting down, she immediately reached over and took a large hit, breathing the smoke out across the table into her companion's face. A covered platter and a bottle of cold blue wine sat between them. As she felt the pathways of her thoughts expand under the influence of the spice, she poured herself a glass without touching the bottle, and with another impulse gently checked to see what her friend ordered her.

One of the ten-armed octopus' tentacles thrashed feebly against the table, adorned with fish roe in shapes mirroring her own tattoos. Mirth that did not belong to Tsurumah bubbled up out of the spice in her brain. She laughed and laughed, a quiet, wheezing noise like the last breath in a child's lungs. Her hand darted out and plucked a tendril from its raw body.

She tore at the meat like a true predator, her sharp teeth gnashing even as she spoke in her deathly whisper of a voice, "Is it cannibalism? Are you trying to make me like them? The disgusting animals they sent us to put down. Insolent beyond words." She left unsaid whether she meant her companion or the Sith masters that sent her to the slaughterhouse, to carve flesh from bones and snuff lives from the world. Again the raptor laugh, a dry sound forced through a throat like a reed. "No matter. Our humor is the same. I ordered for you on the way as well." She took a long drink from her wine and inhaled again. Her companion had a fine taste in spice, selected perfectly for the night's mood. Killing high was the only way it didn't haunt her afterward.

She tore another piece off her meal. "Ten meters behind us. Having soup. I heard the girl whimper on the way in. A virginal smell to her."

@Toska

 

[Constantine]

Spoiler: OOC

Constantine's hardly a combatant here. Armed with a pistol, little knife, stun gun. Lightly acquainted for battle.

Anzat
stone spires
true dark​

i.​

Constantine was far from home. Adorned in silver at his heels, clipping the transparisteel floor in idle taps as his gaze fell down to the lower levels; obfuscated by the roll of smoke, of heady spice that filled the air with vile vice, he bequeathed a smile for the paupers below. They moved as ants, chimed about to synth that blared from surrounding speakers, chirping their hips and grinding to the pulse of beat so far removed from the thrum of hearts bleating at their wrists. Grotesque shapes, xenophiles backed with rims of state, a coat of arms on every breast, planted gold and printed with a lining which promised swift entry, and prompter opulence.

These bore the trappings of scum, their nostrils flailing as they moved. The lowest of the high, scraping together enjoyment at the top of sheared off spires so rife with conjecture. Chits bore their full weight in hands and pockets. Flashed with class that coughed up a fortune in receding wakes. For them, for the incandescent mirth glistering on their lips, unabashed, Constantine was moved only to pity.

A shift in his gaze drew him to the paleblooded nautolan on the opposite end of the booth. Separated by gauze, the gossamer sheen of smoke lifting between gurgling titters, and a writhing octopus floundering to the hysteric mirth, they made for an unlikely pair. They painted on different canvases, wracked by choice after caustic choice leading to their respective positions; one languishing in the pocket of wealth, one slipping between the cracks, falling into rhythm without missing a beat.

To which Constantine claimed ownership... denial flashed in that too white smile, in those lackluster gray eyes bereft of emotive feature. His coat long since hung on the seat back behind, he leaned on the table, sleeves rolled to his elbows and a quiet shrug on his lips.

"So you say, but I've little intention of eating a chimp, Miss." Ignoring the implications, a loose gesture procuring the hose with a long stemmed tip, he sucked in a breath. Let the acrid odor of spice and blood saturate his lungs; each breath coughed up a hot gust, rattled membrane with a chemical flurry. Beckoned his throat to admit the gravel of his failures, and splutter up some show of disdain. But he drank from the stem, a straw for the lustful soup beneath. It bubbled through water, shook the ice at its base, and filled him to the crooked tint of his grin.

"Now now," he said through rolling breaths, puffs of smoke trailing off his lips, out of his nostrils as the Anzati's tentacles, "to business so soon, yeah? The girl's cooked. The rest? They've an indolence to them. Reeks even from here. Ripe for the taking, if you've the gusto for it... but, indulge me a bit. Not every day I get the distinct pleasure of sucking in the same air as blood suckers. So keep me company before you divorce them of their heads and cut my stay short."

@Jake

 

[Jake]

If her blood was pale, this creature's must be blue. She watched Constantine with eyes bulbous and alien, completely devoid of any human emotion, yet fully capable of laying a soul bare. What she saw here was most intriguing, for example: a being so thoroughly soaked in the oil of excess and lit aflame by the fire of sin that it had no soul left. Only the most meager excuse of one. Her lips curled up into another carnivore sneer after swallowing another slime-coated tentacle.

"I find you much alike to the Anzati, human. You merely suck blood of another flavor." She gazed with hunger of many kinds at the man before her. For an instant her expression wavered, then transformed. She reached up and brushed one of her headtresses back into the coiffed bundle behind her head.

Sipping her wine, she leaned forward to rest her chin in an open palm. "Tell me, what drives the hearts of insects? You don't hunger like they do." She twirled a finger as if to indicate the room around them, a startlingly human gesture. "But I can smell other hungers on you. You reek of greed, for instance. Tell me, if I were to pluck an eye from your skull and swallow it, do you think you could purchase my restraint?" She ripped off another tentacle and popped it in her mouth, staring glassy-eyed and stoned at her companion.

She was beginning to feel them. The empathy that was denied to her in any other state but this one: feelings bleeding from all the hearts around them, thoughts belonging to other minds leaving shadows and reflections in her own... leaving new hungers, eager to be satisfied. She listened for a moment to a chorus Constantine could perhaps hear only softly, and before long selected a pair of lone voices from the multitude - the bleating voices of sheep in the abattoir.

"Where is your power, Constantine? Or perhaps do you have none at all?" There was a great deal of violence in her smile.

@Toska

 

[Constantine]

That wicked grin cracked its yolk over his lips. Bared teeth, white and ivory, a smile too cold to be sanguine, but blooded nonetheless from the rim of wine that stained his flesh. Those bold questions, the gentle animosity that sparked between them, electric in the current it cast to his spine... it made him nothing but a craven want, a want wont for nothing if not pleasure. And as those hedonists who wrung themselves along the floor, danced and spasmed to the curt tail of music and beat so rife in the air; the thrum, the hum, the sing of breath and hearts beating beyond the lure of synth and stain of onerous spice, Constantine smiled, eyes high and dilated above his cheeks. He cocked himself from the perch of a brow, purchased his rapport with a flick of the wrist.

"My," he said, "my how the scales have fallen from my eyes; to think you a sophist, Miss, I'd have never guessed." Lifting the tongs, he shifted coals, grasped the hose in a loose hold, and sucked out his laughter in a roll of breath. Heady, sinful, he breathed in the scent of conversation, the lull that hung between their lips and made him a martyr for no cause at all. An empty thing, little more than a husk.

It suited him well.

"Now, let's take it in reverse: Power? I've got none. If I can't crack your neck and put a fear of gods into you, there's no force in this galaxy that'll put my sway over you any higher. Nothing I have, nothing I am, is weighed so heavily as the face of action, see?" He dropped the hose. Let it rattle on the table as he leaned in closer, spoke in tongues and whispers that headed off conspiracy; this, this beat at his wrists harder, hotter than the aloft wave of reluctance with which he came.

A flippant hand, offered out and settled from the nook of his elbow. "You pluck out my eye? There's nothing stopping you. Go ahead, if you want. No depth of consequence can stop you, other than the force of my own arm. What moves them..."

He swallowed, he paused, he picked up his pace.

"What moves their greed is fervor. The desire to own, to consume. That they follow convention means they are protected by it in turn, yeah? Take that away from them, and their greed is nothing more than a plea. No more than the paupers below, on the streets, their mere existences an atom on a galactic scale; but take away enough, deprive us of so much that the boundary is questioned, that wealth is devalued and want nothing but a word...?

"You'll see even a bug can bite back."

 

[Jake]

She watched and her dead eyes betrayed less than nothing, instead seemed to obscure what half-eaten scraps of her soul were left to find in such communications as superficial as conversation and bodily expression. Throughout her exchange with Constantine, Tsurumah's breathing never fluctuated, not a single muscle twitched save from clear purpose. Half of her mind engaged the smoothtalking aristocrat in front of her and the other was elsewhere and everywhere. She listened to conversations in a dozen booths around them and shared in the ecstasy of dancers on the floor below. She was the shadow in the booth beside the very monsters she had come to slay... she was the helpless horror in the girl they dined upon between bouts of hallucinogenic laughter, a girl who on another world in another life could have been Constantine's daughter.

And she was hatred. Cold and heavy. Within and without.

"Yes. There is the crux." Again the same horrible smile full of cruelty. Did it belong to her? A hazy cloud of spice enveloped her mind as she took another long drag on the hose. She couldn't remember.

"You are powerless. Just like a bug."

She reached up and held a hand in front of Constantine's face. Gently, like a child with a flower, she peeled his eyelids back so she could admire the full globe of his gray eye. She twisted her fingers, manipulating the Force so that side of Constantine's head would lose sensation. Blood trickled in a red rivulet down the front of his face. She held it there, her expression one of absolute concentration, her hand so faintly trembling as if with exertion. Truly she knew that the numbness meant Constantine could not admire her handiwork, or even really verify whether or not she had made a canvas of him for her art, until he had a reflective surface to peer into. She also had a feeling that peering into reflective surfaces constituted one of Constantine's enduring pastimes, and that he would find out very soon. Was she a child throwing a tantrum, or had she merely sought to make a point? Or perhaps was her psychology not limited to human duality?

Peering down at the ruined carcass she'd left in the wake of her meal, her hand fell flat against the table. For an instant she looked contemplative, even sorrowful. Then she stood and pulled the dark cowl down over her eyes.

"I thank you for your companionship. I have come tonight in search of another pair of insects... these more mosquitoes than you, the wasp. Come to pass an hour you will feel again, and know for certain if I have maimed you or if merely you should hold your needle steadier when you take the plunge."

It must have been the spice; Tsurumah was not a creature prone to humor.

Parting the curtain, she stepped out into the dining room, alive with hushed conversations in twenty or thirty booths like the one she'd emerged from. Quick, decisive strides took her ten meters down the aisle. She could still hear the disgusting slurping noises the vampires made as they feasted inside.

With a flick of the wrist she tore the curtain, revealing both of her prey. She read the vulnerability, even the half second of fear, as they saw her from where they hunched over their feast. Sensing their imminent reaction, Tsurumah fell into a battle stance, one fist near her chest and the other forward. One foot in front of the other.

"Has the blood run so thin, that great warlords of the Anzati are now wont to dine on vermin? Or is it merely that as the centuries grind on, you lose your appetite for glory? I recall the tales of your princelings among the Sith, of the ecstasy they found in the minds of the Jedi. Come now... I promise that my thoughts are of a finer flavor."

 

[Jake]

((Advancing story a bit to prepare for opposition.))

"All I see is a bitch eager to be buried," one of the Anzati growled, wiping ooze from the nasal slits that wept the leftovers of his meal. Beneath them electronic synthfunk blared loudly, reverberating through the transparisteel now as the volume rose and the Ithorian baritone receded to his quarters. The buzz of chatter throughout the room died as the first Anzati stepped out from their booth, brandishing a ceremonial knife gleaming with fresh blood. His companion hesitated; Tsurumah immediately read the doubt on his face, the desire to avoid confrontation, and fear that she immediately attributed to their knowledge of trouble elsewhere on Anzat where the leader of their sect was being ruthlessly hunted just as she had hunted them.

But the spice let her see deeper, past the emotions sketched on his face and into his heart, through an inner world constructed through long centuries of life, of hunting, of soup... Countless scenes of blessed debauchery, of wanton violence and dreams too libertine to be remembered... Yes. Tsurumah steeled herself. Anzati did not live for centuries without clinging desperately to that precious life, over and over, every time the hunger called to them.

"Be reasonable, Vyren," this calmer vampire said to his companion. "Not all creatures are conditioned to our ways. However, I sense a strength in her that was not won through meditation and hours spent peering into a holocron..." He smiled with practiced charisma. How many girls like the one lying drained and wilted on their table had been led there by that smile, over so many seasons and cycles?

"No, I see that this one bought her strength with--" Of course, Tsurumah saw the imperceptible tilt of the head, the slightest dilation of their pupils, the shift in breathing as subconsciously the one called Vyren recalled his predatorial instincts. "-- with blood." By the time the last word was spoken, Vyren was vaulting through the air, moving with the perfect grace and silence of a killer who had refined his art over a life spanning whole dynasties.

Yes! Tsurumah thought in triumph. There could be no greater glory than battle! No canvas more fit for expression!

She turned to face him with reflexes enhanced by the Force and the spice that fueled her fury. He didn't expect her reaction, this much she read in his face; their encounter was decided in that instant, no matter how close his ambush might have come. Her forward arm darted into his guard; grabbing the wrist that held his knife, she used the Force to swat their limbs away as if buffeted by a great wind. The telekinesis lent its momentum to her other arm as it swept blindingly fast into his oncoming body, her fingers burying them in the soft flesh of his throat. For an instant Vyren hung suspended in midair from her arm before sliding backwards, dropping with a soft thud to the floor. Blood bubbled from the terrible wound, pooling beneath him. The rave lights of the floor below shone dimly through the thick black puddle.

Tsurumah had no time to catch her breath; immediately she dropped to the floor to avoid the empty husk of the girl that careened through the space she had been standing a half-second earlier. His companion circled around her, his eyes gleaming with the manic frenzy of the recently satiated.

"Yes," the Anzati whispered in a voice husky with lust. "To dine on you will sustain me through seasons of trial yet to come... I've never felt such hunger." His soup-drinking tendrils slid from their slits and tasted the air, as if they sensed the feast that awaited them in victory...

@Aberforth

 

[Aberforth]

And you awaits the same great Destiny.’
Then came the moment of majestic stillness,
Hushed was the hour, His great heart beat no more.
The conqueror had gone to His Dominions,
That land of bliss beyond all time and space.​

Cepheus put down his manuscript and pondered on his reading for a while, but his thoughts slowly drifted to what had proud him to Anzat. Macabre villainies had been reported in the underworlds and the Jedi Knight had traced back the whispers to this dreary club. He had been sitting in a booth – the only place that provided him with sufficient lighting to study his escritures – for a few hours, his consciousness scrying the cantina, when a disturbance caught his attention.

He had noticed two Anzati feasting upon a girl in another booth a few meters away some time ago. While he personally found the practice to be abhorrent, it was his understanding that the relationship the Anzati and its meal – for lack of a better term – was more than simply that between a predator and its prey, it was spiritual in nature, almost sexual. As he had begun wondering if that was what had brought him here, the Jedi Knight felt a more complex and direful aura approaching the brainsuckers. For an instant, Cepheus tried to scrutinize her intentions, but his effort was in vain. When he felt the somber touch of death on one of the Anzati, he left his seated position and started treading towards the point of origin of the disturbance. He moved forward carefully, his right hand over his thigh close to where his lightsaber was dangling from his cincture.

He stoped five meters from where the Anzati stood was facing an unidentified Nautilian, his tentacle-like proboscises unfolded, ready to strike. With a swift motion of his left hand, he used the Force to push the Anzati back into his booth.

“There has been quite enough blood spilled here tonight, I think.”

@Jack

 

[Tsurumah]

Tsurumah only half turned to accommodate the newcomer's arrival. Her eyes drifted towards the lightsaber dangling at his hip.

"Jedi," she said simply. She did not misjudge the Jedi for his years, which outstripped her own by decades. Nonetheless, she found it more efficient to dissuade him from interfering while simultaneously showing a false veneer of arrogance. "You would step between me and this contemptuous creature? Know its crimes: it makes of its people slaves to their hunger. Know the balance I bring to this world in slaying this man and stay your hand."

Turning away, she called the slain Anzati's ceremonial knife to her grip. She tested its weight with a few practice swings which cut the air at blinding speeds and began to walk towards the booth, where the dead man's companion had composed himself. His eyes glowed with savage want. After a few steps, Tsurumah paused, considering the likelihood of the Jedi's interference.

"The Force offers us all the freedom to choose, Master Jedi. Weigh the life of the Anzati in your hands. Consider the alterations its ending will bring to this world and to the Force. If you interfere, not only will you be attempting to thwart that justice, but you will fail. You will die beside him, and not alone. There are many who will suffer if you do not consider carefully the consequences of the choice that the Force offers you."

Without further hesitation, she advanced towards the Anzati, weaving patterns in the air with the knife's edge. Her senses were primed for any kind of movement, any fluctuation in the Force. The spice pushed them even further, greasing forgotten pathways through her thoughts, driving her towards the limits of her consciousness... simultaneously, she saw the world through her eyes, and through the eyes of many others who watched the same scene developing from all of its angles.

She did not bother see which fraction of that manifold perspective belonged to her prey. Instead, she mustered black despair from the deepest bowels of the dark side and thrust it upon all of the minds she touched. She could not see deep enough to personally drag the fear from their souls, but there was no need. She need only stoke the fire; everyone saw their own vision in its flames.

@Toska @Aberforth

 

[Aberforth]

“I will not pretend to understand the root of your discontentment, but revenge, deterrence and death are not justice, child, and you have no authority to enforce the Qotsisajak on neutral territories. Here, all sentient beings have inalienable rights, including those who commit atrocious crimes. They are not granted for good behaviour and they may not be taken away even if a person has committed outrageous and brutal acts, which is why they protect us all.”

Cepheus firmly believed in these ideals: Ei incumbit probatio qui dicit, non qui negat; All should be given a chance to atone for their mistakes and be forgiven; The sanctity of life his not to be violated trivially.

“Now, I must insist that you release the Anzati into my custody for both of your sakes. If the concerns you have expressed are founded, he will be trialed,” he asserted. “If you choose to let anger guide your actions however, I will stand for my principles.”

Within seconds, the Jedi Master had grabbed his lightsaber with his right hand and ignited the soft green blade. He held the hilt back, at eye level, in a one-handed grip, angled forward with the left arm held parallel, in a challenge. His dominant foot was placed back while the other was extended forwards and to the side in a brace-position.

As the blade lighted up the surroundings, exclamations could be heard across the cantina. "Jedi", many of the off-worlders hissed, though none tried to intervene. They knew better than to meddle in the Order's affairs.

As the Nautilian, roughly five meters away, moved forward, knife in hand, Cepheus motioned to propel the weapon out of her grip.

@Jack

 

[Tsurumah]

"Yes..." Tsurumah breathed. Her lidless eyes regarded the Jedi who opposed her. When Cepheus dipped into the Force to attempt disarming her, she allowed the knife to be pulled from her grip. She merely reached into the Force herself, altering its trajectory so that it spun in a chaotic circle around them for just an instant before flying at an angle that seemed random... until it struck the bewildered Anzati that was her prey, flinging him back into the booth he'd emerged from and pinning him to the table by the blade lodged in his gut. His regenerative powers ensured the wound wasn't fatal, on its own. Nonetheless the vampire remained very still, waiting for fortune to play its hand and for his body to piece itself together in preparation for what might be his last lease on life when he next tried to flee...

Tsurumah turned fully to face Cepheus. Her face was utterly devoid of expression as she said, "Typical platitudes of the Jeeedai. You trip over old holes, wizened one." Snap-hiss. Her red lightsaber sprang to life to join his own and she adopted the ancient stance of the Makashi salute.

"You would stand against me for threatening this creature that has caused so much grief over the long centuries of its life... You say that I violate his inalienable right to life, no matter his crimes. Will you then violate mine to enforce the justice you claim to uphold?"

Gathering the Force around her, Tsurumah edged cautiously forward, closing the distance between them from five to four and then three meters, where she began to sketch a circle around Cepheus. The full extent of her power flowed through her as she steeled herself for what, as always, could either be the end or another step towards greater glory.

@Aberforth

 

[Aberforth]

"Your life is just as valuable as mine, I think," the Jedi Master responded and he sincerely believed so. The Sith Brotherhood was just as necessary as the Jedi Order in order to keep balance in the galaxy. Although, most darksiders were undisciplined and could represent a danger to all living creatures if they were left unchecked. "I never fight to the death, unless it is absolutely necessary," he explained calmly before the Sith started marching forward.

For a moment, he closed his mind and slowed down his breathing. He didn’t want, nor particularly like to fight, but from where he was standing his foe was forcing his hand. While not exactly a pacifist, he was gentle by nature and had followed the Jedi code unwaveringly since had been knighted decades ago. He had devoted his life to the Order and to its core values: he would duel to see them upheld.

From his initial stance, Cepheus crouched slightly, bending the knees and moving his dominant right foot back ten centimeters, and lowered his lightsaber on his right side. When it reached a distance of thirty centimeters from the ground, it lunged forward aiming for the Nautolan’s left tibia. Then, the blade was withdrawn and raised back above the Jedi Master’s head in one fell swoop.

He did not intend to harm his opponent just yet. He wanted her to step backwards, whist he was trying to gage her strength. Not many of her kind were aligned with the dark side of the Force and Cepheus was intrigued. He had visited Glee Anselm during his pilgrimage and knew its inhabitants to be peaceful and living in harmony with the other races thorough the galaxy.

@Jake

 

[Tsurumah]

Tsurumah watched carefully as Cepheus crouched, steeling her mind, narrowing her focus to this moment. Her awareness felt stretched to its uttermost limits, the mind-altering effect of spice. They said that the most ancient monastic orders to wield the Force used the drug to open themselves to the invisible energy pinning up the stars... But the Nautolan's thoughts did not wander to these forgotten corners. She stared at Cepheus with the same intensity as she would a lover's body. More, because they now shared a far more intimate bond.

The bond of battle--

Her disappointment was almost as reflexive as her reaction. At the first sign of movement, her preternatural instincts summoned the Force, pulling her ignited saber from one hand to the other even as the Jedi Master thrust his blade towards her. It required only the smallest change in angle to intercept the tip of his green blade. The air cracked electrically as their weapons kissed, casting long shadows across the floor. Even as she parried, Tsurumah shifted her feet so that she stood in a fencer's posture, presenting minimum surface area to her opponent, her free hand extended towards Cepheus' body... yet 'free' was a definite misnomer, because even as Tsurumah repositioned herself she was far from idle.

She had been channeling her power since the Jedi showed himself, since before...* And now she released that pent up energy in a concussive wave, intending to throw the Jedi from his feet with bone-rattling force.

Spoiler: OOC

* Included merely for clarity, and for any reader that might be interested in the strategy behind PvP: I've been dropping mentions throughout the thread of Tsurumah touching the Force, particularly in my last post where I specifically stated she was gathering it for an attack. Often it's useful to drop such details into your posts that might or might not go unnoticed, from gathering energy which usually isn't subtle, to a one-liner about dropping something into the sand beneath your feet or what have you...

@Aberforth

 

[Richie B.]

Jason was badass, no one would deny him that even as he stood on the weird ass home of some weird as species after hunting some weird ass target the hunter was about to head back to his ship. Which for some reason probably some weird god messing with the hunter since it seemed a party was going on. At least from what he was hearing in a the building not to far from him, so being he badass he was. Jason got to a point that was super high up and drove his speeder bike right though the second floor building. Thankfully the speeder bikes speakers were still fine, as he landed it what seemed to be a private strip area. The speaker was barely sticking out from the cover, when the hunter came out in his armor with his gutripper in his right hand he had two packs on ammo on his armor and, the strap on his left shoulder. His mercy guns on his outer thigh on some holsters, while two supernovas on his hip and two Firespray for those pesky Sithies.

With the speakers that were fine the best music was being played on a loop. Really pumping the hunter up, many it was also cause he took a little bit of spice too but it only seemed to make him hyper active. An with his nice gauntlets that were connected to his jumpers on his feet which was part of the armor. Jason felt powerful and awesome. But to complete it all he carried a vibrosword on his back connected by magnets or something, Jason didn't really care.

"NOW WHOSE READY TO PARRRRRRRTY!!!!" The hunter yelled out, looking around to see if anyone else could see how awesome he looked with is helmet covering about half his face, giving him enough light to see everything around him clearly.

Thanks to the spot lamp being turned on, Jason looked like a soldier that took one to many drugs and now was on a rampage. An that wasn't too far from the truth, the man had fought for the republic a bit having been there when they captured the past Supreme leader, which Jason likes to take more credit then he really deserves. But it did gave him a huge boast to his ego and street cred that Jason didn't care.

As he notice a old man getting hit by some mystery force that wasn't visible the hunter instantly thought sith, and felt his blood pumping. OH HOW JASON HATES SITH. But a closer look on said sith made Jason stop. Cause sure you can hate sith but can you hate a beautiful giant green lady that looked like a strong beast? For Jason that answer was no.

So now with his head mixed up between two separate sides of him, hating sith and a bit hating force users, and loving all things that can move and fit his category of alluring and attractive.

"N-now hold right there gorgeous, I am going to have to ask you for some digits girl." Jason said a bit nervous but eventually getting the courage (or balls however you wish to see it) to speak up and ask out this pretty green lady.

His hand lazily held the gutripper pointing to the ground and turning to face the pretty girl being about 10 meters away. Yet he didn't realize his spot lamb was still on so it would hit her face, but he wasn't planning on shooting or fighting just yet. Unless that was the girls kink, which Jason wouldn't argue about.

It seemed that the glass was so weak and silly that it barely did anything to the man of steel, with armor. Luckily it wasn't something uber super deadly or that would have been the end to the poor Jason man.

@Jake

 

[Tsurumah]

For grievously underestimating his opponent, Cepheus would pay a cheaper price than he deserved. Perhaps the old man's karma had brought him so far despite a lack of talent for warfare. Her saber caught his halfway into his lunge, which itself had merely been an attempt to gauge her strength... strength she had been building around her for several minutes, a part of which she unleashed through her free hand in a concussive wave that hurled Cepheus through the air and against the wall. Though spry for his age, the wizened Jedi Master crumpled to the floor in a heap, his deactivated weapon rolling away from his prone body to tap softly against Tsurumah's heel. Their quick exchange, swift and precise as a brushstroke, did not mark an end to Tsurumah's evening. She passed her saber back into her dominant hand.

Even as she dispatched the Jedi, his thoughts began to bleed into her own. The spice made her sensitive to strong feelings, no matter how profoundly ugly they were... and the sensations that washed over were certainly ugly, to say nothing of the ridiculous music that blasted her eardrums, an unwelcome shift from the Ithorian baritone who had been singing just a few moments before. Restless and disturbed first by violence, then by the appearance of a Sith and a Jedi, and finally by this lunatic whose speederbike crashed through the window and onto a table, dozens of Anzati were emerging from their booths to roam aimlessly around the floor, some leaving, others staring with clear hatred at both Tsurumah and the hotheaded newcomer. Somewhere behind her, her prey moaned and pawed uselessly at the vibroblade pinning him to his own table.

The Nautolan had ingested enough spice to make her mind feel like it was melting into all the other souls around her, but none so much as Jason Bates. This was a fact she hoped to remedy as soon as possible. Beyond that, her connection to the Force felt so intensely augmented that it was driving every sensation to synesthesic heights. Every time she touched it she recoiled from feelings so powerful they were more than sexual - spiritual, if anything. And this sperged out trash was polluting the experience with a lust so physically palpable that Tsurumah could feel her ovaries shrivel and die a dozen cycles before their time. Not to mention that her eyes were forced to compensate for the lamp flashing her in the face. She shielded them with her free hand while they adjusted.

But none of this, not the spice or the intense disgust she felt, not the physical discomfort or even the slight indigestion from eating that fried squid and immediately dipping into a complete skirmish, changed in Tsurumah one of her foremost qualities.

She was a professional. She didn't take shit. And she didn't wait to be shit on.

Halfway through his skittish attempt to flirt Tsurumah brought her arm down sharply, calling on the Force with the rest of the energy she'd been harnessing to tear the gutripper from Jason's lazy, one-handed grip and bring it clattering across the floor towards her. A success or not, she slipped simultaneously into a neutral Soresu stance, saber held lengthwise to protect her body should his reaction involve any of the numerous blasters evident on his athletic, armor-clad frame. An absent part of her mind wondered what he was compensating for with so much firepower, while a far greater fraction was absorbing every detail of the situation, waiting to see if she would conclude her night and her mission with just a little more blood on her hands.

@Richie B.

 

[Richie B.]

The one thing he hated about Sithies is they try and take your stuff, and KES them if they tried to steal his gutripper a second time. Oh no Jason was too smart for that. See he had a strap on his left shoulder keeping the gun on him as the sith tried to pull it away with the force. Clearly not being affected positively with his super hotness. Since the gun was in his right hand and the strap on his left shoulder the Sith would effectively be trying to pull all of him. But her goal was only the gun so she was underperforming there. But thankfully Jason didn't judge most people had a hard time performing at their best when with him.

An as the Sith would soon realize Jason responds with extreme prejudice, even if they called him a space racist for it. Jason was about to drop the pain, so as the Sith tried to pull the gun, Jason's hand remained on the it thanks to the power of the strap, which kept it close enough to Jason's body that it wasn't to much of a jerk. An so as she tried to steal Jason's beauty with the force, Jason would let out eight bolts of pain, straight at the green girls chest. Four at the chest, Four three at the stomach, and it was set on 4 round burst. Plus the fact that the gun was held in place by the fact that the Sith was trying to pull it while the strap made sure it didn't leave him. Plus since his arm was within the strap, Jason didn't have to go that far to reach for the gun. But if the Sith did stop the force pull early. At least one four round burst would be sent by then, and because of how close it was the Sith would be incapable of just standing in one spot and trying to deflect them all. Since two would be on the right side of her chest the other two on the left, and with a single lightsaber it won't be enough.

But the force pull still pulled the bounty hunter closer to the Sith, but only by a meter, making them still at 9 meters away. Jason's left hand while the force pull started would reach and grab his mercy pistol, which was barely a millimeter away, and firing from the hip, at the Sith. But his accuracy was a bit off, and would be sent to the right of the Sith, it would barely touch the right arm of the Sith but if she jumped to her right she would get face first of that stun bolt.

The entire time of course the spot light would still flash in the Sith's eyes making it difficult for the Sith to see, since her species was good for low light areas not a flashlight beaming right into her eyes. Plus since the room was already low lighting, the light would be a extreme contrast and be more effective at causing the sith some issues seeing. An with the sudden bolts coming at her mid force pull it would be a difficult time despite her already getting her lightsaber in a defense position.

Of course Jason would be prepared to move, when all his shoots were fired.

@Jake

 

[Tsurumah]

Though her vision was somewhat compromised, the head lamp shining towards her from 30 feet away was far from blinding, though she could say nothing for the numerous Anzati milling about between them who were going to get caught in the crossfire if Jason chose to continue his drugged rampage. As soon as Tsurumah felt the resistance from Jason's shoulder strap she did the obvious thing, reversing her telekinesis, though with far less intensity. She merely nudged the muzzle so that its spray would shift slightly to her right, assisting her as she sidestepped towards her left, the direction in which she had the most open space to work with.

With a single sweeping gesture of her saber arm, she deflected the bolts aimed at her left back towards Jason's table. Obviously, she did not wait for him to reopen fire; she juked behind a few startled patrons who froze as soon as they saw blaster bolts so close to them, taking advantage of their incredulity to make cover for herself. Even if Jason was a half-decent shot to begin with, it would be an impossible feat to train his sights on her while she weaved between and behind the Anzati club-goers, looping around to slip past the curtain of an empty booth about 7 meters from the deranged gunman. Unless he opted to tank his own shots that she'd deflected towards him, they probably would have been enough of a distraction for him to lose sight of her in the first few seconds of her maneuver.

While it was true that the Nautolan's eyesight was better adapted to low-light environments, the oceanic evolution of her species gave Tsurumah numerous other boons in her current predicament. Developed to defend themselves from predators in all three dimensions of their underwater world, Tsurumah's spatial awareness was far keener than the human's, and even from the odd angle she was well aware of his exact position, to say nothing of her incredible olfactory sense that detected the acrid stench of spice all over him, jarringly incongruous with the sick-sweet aroma of soup that permeated the air.

She gathered the Force about her to prepare for another attack, kneeling just within a booth, peering out from the edge of the curtain while she waited for Jason's next assault. The room between them was now full of commotion, security guards beginning to file in from lower floors, beating back the flood of fleeing patrons. The Anzati were by nature a predatory species not given to fear, however, and so many of them hung around the room to see what became of the Sith and her prey. Regardless, if Jason had any moral fiber whatsoever, he was going to have to choose another dance - the one he wanted could only create unnecessary civilian casualties if he continued.

@Richie B.

 

[Richie B.]

(OOC: This was a bit rushed but hopefully it was good enough. If you got any questions just asks.)

Jason watched as the sith stopped the force pull and send back two bolts at him, barely moving to the right to keep himself safe, the bolts barely scratched the shoulder on the left and the left stomach. But thankfully his armor took the hits and would keep him alive and really unharmed for the most part. Am getting about 5 meters towards the alien without making much noise having never lost the giant green alien in a group of regular enough looking humans with gray skin. So hiding behind people for the big alien wasn't that successful.

Having seen her go into the booth, having put away his mercy pistol, and grabbing one of the firespray and priming it. The hunter as the sith moved so her head was just looking out of the cover. An Jason being just slightly to her right but 5 meters away. Placing the gutripper under his arm pit to hold it somewhat steady. And letting out another four round burst at the big green alien, and just after shooting which would cause the sith to lose focus or get hit by the bolts, two of which were aim true and aimed for her chest. The other two just over her head and to her side, holding the firespray up and letting it shoot out at the sith, anything in its path would start to burn, including the fancy fabric that concealed the booth.

After shooting the firespray, the hunter fired another four round burst but he had began to move further to his right while facing the sith but keeping at least 5 meters between them. So the fire would move so it can get more into the booth and just burn her out. The second four round burst was far less accurate only aiming to the space around the sith. Two above her, and two to her side that was away from the wall.

The sudden attack would no doubt break the siths concentration plus the bolts being shot first means the sith either had to deal with them first or risk getting burned. But if the sith tried dealing with the firespray first she would be hit by the bolts no doubt. The firespray would continue unless the sith somehow tried to push the fire sent by the firespray away. An the hunter was careful to notice what the Sith would do.

@Jake

 

[Tsurumah]

Spoiler: OOC

written from my phone

Of course, when she saw Jason following her movements she realized that her plan to conceal herself had failed and she reignited her lightsaber. Nonetheless her assailant failed to consider that he was firing into a crowd of astonished club-going Anzati whose night out was rapidly becoming a terrible dream. His first four rounds were decently aimed, managing not to intersect with any of the patrons in their rush to the stairs, but they stirred the frenzy even further. Two of the particle bolts went wide, seemingly by design, and she deflected those aimed at her chest harmlessly into the floor at her feet with a single fluid motion of her lightsaber. The hunter was right, he interrupted her concentration, but she had merely been focused on dragging some small object towards them and had mostly succeeded.

The Anzati gave the gunman a wide berth, but Tsurumah had deliberately put them between her and her opponent; there was no clear shot at the Nautolan through that commotion, and Jason would now have to deal with the consequences of his inattentiveness. His firespray not only failed to reach Tsurumah, it succeeded only in immolating a group of three bystanders who had been making their way out of the room, filling the air with their shrill screams and the smell of cooked pork. Tsurumah took advantage of the momentary distraction to slip out the corner of the booth.

Regardless of whether the firespray had started the curtain on fire it wouldn't be a difficult obstacle, and the second burst of blasterfire had been misaimed. Two passed harmlessly overhead to scorch the wall and one was absorbed by an unfortunate Anzati who fell squirming to the floor, clutching his face still wet with the soup from the meal he'd been enjoying moments earlier. The other, aimed towards Tsurumah's side away from the wall, ricocheted within the empty booth. Maneuvering away, she was careful to keep the panicking crowd between her and Jason so that his flamethrower couldn't reach her. Meanwhile, the club's security were making their way towards the madman spewing fire into a closed space, hefting their weapons to put a stop to the mayhem, and in her momentary respite Tsurumah again reached out to the Force...

 

[Richie B.]

(OOC: Sorry for the delay and was written on my phone if you have any questions just ask)

Jason was really not having a good day, but the people of this restaurant was clearly having a worse day. And now with three bodies on the floor, but cause of the burning bodies everyone within the restaurant started leaving. Like everyone pushing and shoving no one wanted to stay here, the security would find their knees shot out by the hunter and the gutripper making them flee and leaving the two fights to continue their dance. But noticing the Sith trying to move away from the curtain and out of the room exposing her. The hunter reacted accordingly, shooting the firespray just in front of her then moving towards her by about 2 feet. While the gutripper fired on her with a four round burst. The combo attacking making it so the sith had to focus on one or the other but unless she can somehow manage to pull off defending against both she would be extremely injured.

The hunter and the sith was about 4 meters apart by then and as soon as the four round burst was finished the hunter would be ready to move out of the way. Without anyone to cover the sith body, she would be force to either deflect the bolts but get burned alive, or send the liquid flames away but get shoot up. As one bolt would be at the head, two at the stomach and one that won't be hitting her as it was sent closer to the booth she was currently in and blocking her path back.

@Jake

 

[Richie B.]

Jason was glad to see that his attacked had done what he needed, the flames got onto the giant green's arm causing her to go back and the bolt skin the top of her head, and the two bolts hit the edges of the stomach. All the hits would just knock out the Sith, after she went down the hunter listened to his music blasting out and watched as a small lightsaber fly past him. It was weird but the bounty hunter didn't pay much attention to it. So letting the gutripper fall on his side, while letting the used firespray hit the ground since it wasn't of any real use for him. Walking over to the Sith and figure best not to let her burn to death, he rip off her sleeve of her outfit while avoiding the fire so her arm wouldn't be to burned up. But some burns could be seen, which the hunter felt would make a cool looking scar later in her life. One which Jason was sure she would thank him for later, and since this was the first time soloing taking down a Sith, he grabbed one of her lightsabers and put it on his belt. Figuring it was good to keep something like that, and maybe he could use it to draw her out again for a date.

Remembering that she wouldn't be able to ask for the lightsaber back unless she could somehow contact him, Jason walked over to one of the empty table. Grabbing a pen that was next to a check and writing on a napkin his contact number and the name Jason so she can ask him for the lightsaber back. An putting it in her shirt so she couldn't lose it, but depending on what happens later Jason might never see her again. But at least he attempted right. Standing over her a bad thought went into his head and he decided to let it out.

"You should be happy most things I leave with woman usually ends with me having to pay child support." Jason said chuckling to himself, and heading to the speeder that was still sticking out of the wall.

He tried to start the engine but it seemed that it wasn't going to start, which did put a frown on Jason face. He had recently rent it and now he was going to have to watch out for his mail for payment to the company he rented it from. Grabbing his music chip from the speeder and getting up and started heading out, whistling the entire time. As many of the people within the restaurant were still screaming, some dude was bleeding and another old man was knocked out that looked like a human. Which would mean the dude would be a mean waiting for these creatures, picking up the dude and looking around and grabbing some keys to a speeder so he can head out at least with a speeder.

Jason took a while walking down but no one seemed willing to try and stop him, probably cause half didn't know who he was, or they were scared trying not to get burned alive like the other three people. Heading out with a old man on his shoulder the hunter no doubt looked like a badass, just needed some glasses and maybe a cool trench coat, so he can walk out in style. Pressing the keys to see which speeder he was going to get looking at the parking lot. When one speeder sound out signaling to Jason which one he was going to get. Dragging the old man to the speeder and being surprised and sad to find it is a giant pink speeder, with the back in big white letters, "CUTIE RIDE!". The seats were cover with some pink fluff which kind of creep out the Jason, but he didn't have much choice, plus didn't care all that much.

Placing the man on the back seats and getting on the speeder and standing up and yelling at the restaurant.

"YOUR SERVICE SUCKS!" Jason said sitting down on the sit, watching in the corner of his eye, a man running trying to ask him to stop.

Before putting in the keys and starting the speeder, flying away with pride. Knowing he did good and might just get some more press for this, maybe even some credits from some Jedi. Of course there was no guaranteed, but Jason was interested in only two things credits and kicking bad guys and girls butt.