Starting a fire.

[Gideon Hask Starr]

Dreshdae was a truly meagre settlements, and the agonised shrieks of the woman on the pyre before them did little to make it seem more pleasant. Echoeing through the vast courtyard outside of the sandstone administrative hub that dominated the settlement, long after the smoke of the flames which had comdemned her came to their rest. The motely assemblage of village officials, who had emerged from the hub to observe the execution, began to meander their way back inside.The heavy crowd of slack jawed, enraptured locals however, watched on, as if looking for some glint of life in the ashen remains of the convicted one. It was they, combined with their superiors now departed inside the Hub, who had felt the deepest sense of relief when the 'Traitor' had been put to the fire, and it was with a mix of cruel enjoyment, blended with geniune satisfaction, that they had been watching, entranced, as the victim has been submitted to the flames.

Burning was a horrific, cruel and harsh way to go, and Shortaa Vandeem has spent a damn long while dying. Gideon Hask-Starr had not departed with the villages grandees, but remained still as a statue before the blackened scaffold and charred remains to the very end, waiting behind until the last meak wisp of smoke has died oout, his armoured hand resting on the pommel fo his sword, his face drawn into a sneer of satisfaction. His cape snapped at his heels, the gentle breeze that had fanned the flames to their lofty hieghts, add an air of mystery to the man, who had been the one to call forth and sentance the condemned. The Jedi Hunter had witness his fair share of executions, and they always filled him with a sense of fulfillment, a job well done - a chase seen to its end, and today was no different.

It was an ugly thing, make no mistake, but in his eyes, and the eyes of his superiors, a required one. Jedi, and their followers, where a weed that, if not put the flame, sword or whatever else would see them subjeud, would spread like a cancer. There was simply no question of justice when a belief system as utterly alien as that of the Jedi reared its head, fear, and absolute judgement had to meeted out, and quickly. No, the execution of a Jedi or one of their disciples was not just a punishment, it was a measure of fear, something that had to be delivered with finality, so as to route to disease out before it corrupted others. The true prupose of such displays as the burning of their number, was not for the punished, but for the observer.

The execution of a Jedi, or in this case a follower of their cause, was a cautionary tale to those who would consider turning ther gaze and heart away from the loving embrace of the Empire and its teachings. A parable so terrifying it evoked nothing short of horror and fear, enough to make the rabble recoil at its telling. In Gideans minds, there where only two ways to the hearts of a man, loyalty for the noble, and fear for the rest. It was the only thing that could keep the masses in line, fear, was Gideons trade, and he was in the market of selling.

Studying the small crowd before him, he turned away - for he had seen such faces in most Imperial Settlements. As they elft the courtyard, some red with the heat, or with fear, others filled with a glow of sadistic glee at what they had just witness, Gideon noticed some whostood out - muscle bound heavies even a few cloak saddles types that just stank of Sith. In his large hat, and cape straddles clothes, he cut a fine figure himself, and simply waited for those interested, or contacted for the next step of his mission, to approach, for today would be a good day to gather the mettle of those men and women with whom he would engage.

After all, where one Jedi follower could be found, others soon sprung up in their wake, and there was plently more wood for the fires.

OOC - Death disabled. Invitees only please.

 

[Niish Chichel]

Niish had joined the Jedi Hunter in watching the Jedi sympathizer burn, not so much for the reasons of poetic justice and ridding the area of one sympathizer to an old enemy, rather, he was waiting for a nice char on his next steak. Both of his stomachs roared with anticipation as the living skin of the woman on the pyre burnt to a living crisp. The screams, to Niish, were an angelic cacophony,a purifying of this person's soul, as he skin and flesh cooked.

"Thisss One hopesss you'll save ssssome for him," he said, hungrily, referring to the woman, to the Jedi Hunter. He grinned, maliciously licking his lips with his long reptilian tongue, "Hope iss for weak. Demand. Hmmm," he growled, as he walked toward the pyre to get a good look. Her skin had began to blacken around the legs, as she screamed at the tope of her lungs, at a weaker pitch now, as one of her vocal chords ruptured, and as smoke entered her lungs. She would look down to see the hungry eyes of the man-eater below her, and resume screaming, less for pain, and more for fear of what will happen after she succumbs. If she succumbs, before his hunger got the best of him.

@Nor'baal

 

[Sabrina K]

She had come to roast marshmallows and jedi, and she was all out of marshmallows. Which was upsetting, as she really liked them. She was dressed in her marauder armour, and lightsaber by her side. She was hired to make sure no one got in their way, as she wanted to see them burn Jedi. The Jedi where worst of the worst, they even worse than imperium republica. Though they rejected the rule of strong, they still where atleast trying to pay lip service to the sith ways. The Jedi denied nature itself, they deny emotion, they deny themselves children, and they took children from families. They where kidnapping heretics who need to burn, to put end to their evil ways.

She stood silently behind the others, and waited to receive orders, or to put down trouble maker. She did like seeing the burning corpses, of heretical Jedi. They who think it is okay to brainwash children, into following their little cult. There is no emotion, yes their fething is, and it was joy in seeing them burn.

@Gian Greydragon @Nor'baal

 

[Alastair Valkyrion]

The light from the flame danced in Alastairs amber eyes, giving them an eerie flickering glow. The combination of his sharp facial bones and pale grey skin making the shadows from the firelight give him a deathlike visage, his bone white hair just adding to the image.

The crowd gave him a wide berth, allowing the light to play off of the large ruby set into the center of his ornate chestplate. The Vahla sorcerer wore a satisfied smirk on his face as the Jedi lover burned, this was beyond justice. This was what was right. If the Jedi really were the truly right ones then by the rule of the strong they would have defeared the sith long ago, instead they were driven to near extinction.

As ths crowd dispersed Alastair noticed several staying behind to continue watching with the Jedi hunter, Sith like himself.

As Alastair stood there, his hand resting comfortably on the hilt of the large phril sword that always hung from his hip he breathed the smoke in and reveled in the scent of purification. His long black coat flapping in the breeze.

@Nor'baal @Gian Greydragon @Sabrina