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"VENGEANCE!" roared the muscled Trandoshan as his doshanek penetrated the scaly torso, and tore apart the heart, of the muscular brute who only moments ago foolishly dared to shame the Trandoshan warrior by stealing what he deemed his rightful kill. Hot, bubbling blood splashed onto the reddish scales that made up the slavers skin, and sluggishly ran down his sharply edged maw. Savagely grinning, Karnetssh twisted and jerked around the two-edged blade of his doshanek in the body of his fresh kill. As his sword tore out from the cadaver, his claws clasped the hilt of his weapon even tighter than before. THIS BLADE DEMANDS MORE BLOOD, he thought to himself, MORE BLOOD, MORE KILLS IN THE NAME OF THE SCOREKEEPER!
In his blind stupor he stampeded forward, his armored boots crashing down ontop of the corridors surface with every inconsiderate step forward, into the darkness of the unlit corridors ahead. It would be a long time from now untill the savage urges of his species would have ceased, and Karnetssh was determined enough in his blind rage to kill everyone who dared to even breath in his presence.
In his blind stupor he stampeded forward, his armored boots crashing down ontop of the corridors surface with every inconsiderate step forward, into the darkness of the unlit corridors ahead. It would be a long time from now untill the savage urges of his species would have ceased, and Karnetssh was determined enough in his blind rage to kill everyone who dared to even breath in his presence.
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The universal, empty darkness of space had a soothing effect on the Trandoshans normally twisted mind. He, amongst the massive horde of his brethren, resided inside the loading area of a Republican freighter inbound to land on OS-C624, an observation station in the Corellian Region and under the control of the Galactic Republic. The warrior handed his mind over to the void that his eyes perceived to be all around him. Once the slavers would storm savagely outside of the loading bay of the freighter, there would be no more allies---once the slavers would storm savagely outside of the loading bay, nothing would matter anymore. Not blood. Not friendship. Anyone who showed weakness in the eyes of the other would be free game, and in the bloodlust of his brethren, noone would turn on the slaughterer of their kin. Anything that showed resistance and survived, would be enslaved---such were the rules, such was the game, of his people.
It was only a matter of time before the carnage, after which he was named, would unfold in all its twisted beauty and ended the lifes of those proven to be too weak to survive in the madness that had swept over the warriors aboard the freighter so many times. Suddenly, a punch to the reptiloids shoulder tore him out of his calming trance, an act that was followed by an angry gaze directed at the eyes of a self-confident, muscular brute. Mockingly, the warrior who had intercepted Karnetssh let out a booming laughter. What little calmness that had remained in the mind of the Trandoshan slaver dimnished utterly. Resentment and hatred filled the sentient beasts eyes. Then, suddenly, the green-scale flew harshly down onto the metal beneath him, a red scaled Trandoshan hovering fiendishly over him.
Instinctively, the slaver reached out for the scabbard of his doshanek, a double-edged sword made from Chalon, but his grasp only met a hilt of nothingness. An expression of luck flushed over the downed barbarians grotesque visage, when several of his kin unusually calmy approached the scene. Their bodies were covered in yellow jumpsuits, much like the ones Karnetssh and his victim---which was still winding helplessly on the plated floor---were enveloped in. "Ashkrik gwa jahumba thoo!", boomed the largest of them, his voice meshed together with the resonating sound of his armored boots stomping and grinding together dirt with metal, "Perhaps, though, I should seek another jahumba. One who isn't so immensively weak that a simple red scale knocks him down with a single punch to the throat."
Karnetssh triumphantly looked down on what remained of the once proud warrior. What lay before him had been reduced to a forfeit, ashamed husk. His bloodlust screamed out inside of the red scaled slaver, urging him to end the pitiful life of the scum infront of him---urging him to slash savagely at the husk infront of him---and he would have, if not for the sudden shake of their vessel which knocked over everyone foolish enough to be standing this shortly before the docking protocols.
It was only a matter of time before the carnage, after which he was named, would unfold in all its twisted beauty and ended the lifes of those proven to be too weak to survive in the madness that had swept over the warriors aboard the freighter so many times. Suddenly, a punch to the reptiloids shoulder tore him out of his calming trance, an act that was followed by an angry gaze directed at the eyes of a self-confident, muscular brute. Mockingly, the warrior who had intercepted Karnetssh let out a booming laughter. What little calmness that had remained in the mind of the Trandoshan slaver dimnished utterly. Resentment and hatred filled the sentient beasts eyes. Then, suddenly, the green-scale flew harshly down onto the metal beneath him, a red scaled Trandoshan hovering fiendishly over him.
Instinctively, the slaver reached out for the scabbard of his doshanek, a double-edged sword made from Chalon, but his grasp only met a hilt of nothingness. An expression of luck flushed over the downed barbarians grotesque visage, when several of his kin unusually calmy approached the scene. Their bodies were covered in yellow jumpsuits, much like the ones Karnetssh and his victim---which was still winding helplessly on the plated floor---were enveloped in. "Ashkrik gwa jahumba thoo!", boomed the largest of them, his voice meshed together with the resonating sound of his armored boots stomping and grinding together dirt with metal, "Perhaps, though, I should seek another jahumba. One who isn't so immensively weak that a simple red scale knocks him down with a single punch to the throat."
Karnetssh triumphantly looked down on what remained of the once proud warrior. What lay before him had been reduced to a forfeit, ashamed husk. His bloodlust screamed out inside of the red scaled slaver, urging him to end the pitiful life of the scum infront of him---urging him to slash savagely at the husk infront of him---and he would have, if not for the sudden shake of their vessel which knocked over everyone foolish enough to be standing this shortly before the docking protocols.
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The savage war-cries of the Trandoshans echoed throughout the corridors of the Republican observation station, and instilled fear into the hearts of every person aboard the space-hulk. A horde of slavers, armed with a vast array of primitive and modern-day weaponry, stampeded outside the massive belly of their vessel, devouring anyone caught up within it and leaving behind a gory mess of bone and organs grinded together beneath the three-clawed feet of the Trandoshan monstrosities accompanied by a vast army of small, hovering drones the size of a Humans head--- instruments engineered for mining and maintenance purposes, which now served a much more gruesome task.
Yet only half an hour later, the horde had broken apart completely. Any sense of unity they had felt whilst slashing at their victims had been given up in favor of their hunting instincts and bloodlust, scattering the force across the vastness of the bowels of the station...
Yet only half an hour later, the horde had broken apart completely. Any sense of unity they had felt whilst slashing at their victims had been given up in favor of their hunting instincts and bloodlust, scattering the force across the vastness of the bowels of the station...
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