- Joined
- Sep 7, 2014
- Messages
- 532
- Reaction score
- 90
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Upon his return to the clan-cave of Clan Vohari, Darth Ragnorik was greeted as a venerated hero having become an actual Lord of the Sith. But his mother greeted him with concern and over a meal welcoming his return, Grik's mother Szebati voiced her concerns about reemerging Jedi influence on Barab I. She told him of two turn-coats in their very own clan who had fled their settlement under Mount Stev'Shuulsz in an attempt to join the Jedi Order by meeting up with a ship coming to take them away from the planet.
Moff Malak Arpha of the Sith Brotherhood and Brother Essja Dreytila of the Sacred Band of Ziost have been tasked with hunting down these fleeing Jedi.
They cannot be allowed to flee the planet and join the ranks of the Order. They must be stopped.
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Upon his return to the clan-cave of Clan Vohari, Darth Ragnorik was greeted as a venerated hero having become an actual Lord of the Sith. But his mother greeted him with concern and over a meal welcoming his return, Grik's mother Szebati voiced her concerns about reemerging Jedi influence on Barab I. She told him of two turn-coats in their very own clan who had fled their settlement under Mount Stev'Shuulsz in an attempt to join the Jedi Order by meeting up with a ship coming to take them away from the planet.
Moff Malak Arpha of the Sith Brotherhood and Brother Essja Dreytila of the Sacred Band of Ziost have been tasked with hunting down these fleeing Jedi.
They cannot be allowed to flee the planet and join the ranks of the Order. They must be stopped.
OOC: Participants are @Wit and @Slamdingo. Contact either participant or Sith leadership if you wish to participate in some manner.
[/fancybox2]In the few short days that he'd been on the planet as part of the Band's task-force in the area, Essja had already learned to hate the planet with a passion. The Sith were good at - hating things - he figured. And the Sacred Band had training cut from the same cloth. But this was the special sort of hatred that was normally reserved for serial pedophiles and people who talk during vids. The day-period lasted sixty hours and that wouldn't have been so bad by itself. But during those sixty hours the entire surface of the planet turned into a scorching hellscape of solar radiation that sapped up every last drop of water on the surface and killed anything that wasn't either underground or in some kind of shelter. And while all that ocean water stripped away to reveal oceans of churning magma, it didn't stay up in that dense cloud cover forever.
The Jedi hunter's boots gave off an odd sort of squelching sound that he could just make out over the ungodly torrent coming down on his head when he pulled them, step-by-step, from the thick mud. He was soaked head to toe and it was only the environmental seals of his armor that kept it from getting to his skin, but it did nothing to keep it from weighing down the undersuit and all of his gear with the sheer bulk of absorbed water. The sky was a cacophony of rainfall, brilliant strikes of lightning, and the crack of thunder overhead. Right now some Barabel god was laughing at Essja as he took a nice, big piss on his head.
But he wasn't just out in the muck and the grime and the rain for no reason. His whole life he'd never found wading through an increasingly deeper swamp to be any fun and the current experience wasn't convincing him he had ever really been wrong. No. The locals had given him information when asked about just where a shuttle might land to pick up two fleeing Jedi hopefuls where others might not easily get to it. On the other side of this miserable and horrid swamp was a wide shale plateau. It sat dead in the center of what during the day turned into a horrid and frothing lake of magma and would take the several hours to slog out to on foot. Local hunters seldom ever ventured out that far unless they were looking for the pride or death-wish of facing down a durgolosk on the nightly hunt for its prey.
It was big enough that a small cargo ship or a shuttle could land safely on it and it was full of caves that one could hide in to escape local wildlife. Or a Sith hunting party.
Speaking of . . .
Essja looked over his shoulder and peered into the thick mist that settled over the bog as thick as soup. In these conditions night-vision was all but useless and thermal vision was severely limited when it came to finding, say, a six foot tall humanoid in a swamp with bitterly cold water that came up to your waist in some places. Rudimentary geostat mapping acquired coming in meant that Essja had been able to set up waypoint markers on his HUD after the fact for mapping out the route. Those glowing icons on his HUD and the thermal silhouette of the Sith he'd been assigned to work with were all he could make out. There were very few other things he might run into and if the local wildlife was consistent in nature then he wanted to find none of it out in this open ground of the swamp land.
The Jedi hunter readjusted his one-handed grip on his carbine as he blink-clicked to key his radio, "Hey, uh, sir. How are you holding up back there?" He wasn't a fan of calling anybody 'sir' but the man was a Moff. That distinction wasn't just given away and it came with the kind of authority that could probably see the hunter killed. He looked to the next way-point - a kilometer out as the bird flew, "Looks like another klick to the next way-point. Not that much farther out and we've still got some time left to burn if you think you need a breather." He tried to control his own breathing with how much just sloshing through the swamp was taking it out of him.
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