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Chapter Seven Five Scouring
over the multitudes of displays surrounding him, each containing battle
information from the ships in his fleet, Commander Silvas Orian, simply raises
his hand in a gesture, motioning Lt. Brizer to his side without losing his focus
even once. “What do you have for me, Lieutenant?” The
young man hands the commander a datapad, “Sir, we’ve had a transmission from
Green Squadron, your advance team.” “Well,
don’t hedge around it son, what’s the verdict from Tallage?” The gruff
commander never takes his gaze from the screens before him, leaving the
lieutenant a bit uncomfortable. “Sir,
Green Leader is reporting that Battle Dog One is taking heavy fire from a
massive Kuati capital ship. To quote the Captain, ‘biggest thing ever out of
the Drive Yards,’ Sir.” This causes the commander to finally look away from
his displays. He
takes a brief moment to stroke his chin before speaking, mulling over this
latest bit of information, “Is that so, Lieutenant?... Well, seems the
Kuati’s may have finally shown their hand, and they appear to have a
skifter…” The commander pauses another moment to stroke his chin. The
lieutenant, shifting uncomfortably on his feet, finally asks the commander,
“Sir, are we still jumping into Grid Five?” Instantly
the commander’s eyes light up with a fury, “Affirmative! Have Ocean’s Fang
and Tidal Storm maintain positions, everyone else should make for the rendezvous
point in Grid Five, on the double!” The commander then blanks all of his
displays and begins to strategize his next move. The
lieutenant, confused by the commander’s orders, takes a deep, and steeling
breath and works up the courage to question the commander, “Sir, what are we
planning for? I mean, it just seems like perhaps they have laid another trap for
us, haven’t they?” The
commander begins to laugh, with a robust vigor, a deep and hearty laugh, “My
boy! You overestimate the intelligence of the average Kuati, and you
underestimate their thirst for conquest!” Calling up the frequencies of all
the other ships to make the jump into Grid Five, the commander simply shakes his
head at the lieutenant, “All hands! Prepare to make the jump to the rendezvous
point on my mark… Ten, nine, eight, seven…” The bridge crew scrambles to
their stations in preparation for this micro-jump, “Six, five, four, three,
two, MARK!!!” And with his final word, the big ship vanishes into hyperspace,
leaving the lieutenant and the rest of the fleet to wonder what the commander
has up his sleeve this time. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ As
she and her squadron head screaming off into the fray, Captain Tallage hails
Battle Dog One, hoping to add the might her fighter group to his attack on the
Kuati capital ship and surrounding vessels where it might do the most good.
“This is Green Leader of the CIN… We are here to offer our assistance,
Battle Dog One… I repeat-…” Cut
off by an incoming transmission, the captain awaits the response, “Green
Leader, your offer is greatly appreciated. If your group could do something
about those flees pestering my dorsal gun turrets, we would be in your debt,
Friend?” Looking
over her scanners, she can see the tiny manned fighters scouring across Battle
Dog One’s dorsal section, “Copy that, Battle Dog One… One delousing coming
up!” Flipping her transmitter over to her fighter group, “You heard that,
Greens… We’ve got work to do!” The shouts of affirmation she receives back
over the comm are quick and excited. Her group is ready and the time to turn the
tide in this battle is now. Flight
Three takes the lead-off and goes tearing across space to hone in a group of
Kuati fighters. On the first pass they rip through five of the enemy craft,
almost as though they were acting as a lance through a rampaging herd-beast.
Green Three, acting as the point, brings his flight around for a second pass,
and the enemy, thinking he is about to the exact same maneuver fires everything
they have got, straight down the middle. However, Flight Three splits off into
three opposing directions and washes through the scattered debris of three more
fighters. Flight
Two is now soaring across the battlefield and begins picking off the fighter
harassing the turrets like targets at a street festival. Not wanting to be left
out of the action, Green Leader orders Flight One to advance into the belly of
the Kuati Battle Cruiser currently pouring ion cannon fire into the aft engines
of Battle Dog Five, peppering the gun ports with laser fire. On their next pass,
they continue to pepper the gun ports, causing their fire to become wild and
erratic, when suddenly they pull up and over the top of the craft, heading
straight for the command bridge and begin unloading torpedoes into the bridge
before shouting up and out of the blast range of the explosion that follows. As
she and her flight come back around to the fight, she quickly scans the
positions of the rest of the squadron. She quickly identifies that Flight Two is
in trouble, with two squadrons of Kuati’s flying right up their tails.
“Eight… Eleven… Flight Two is in trouble. Let’s head straight for them
and see if we can’t knock of few of those Streaks off their tails?” “Aye
Aye, Captain! Hey, if we keep this up, we’ll all be aces by the end!”
Eight exclaims with a little too much exuberation for Captain Tallage’s taste. “Cut
the chatter, Eight. Or you’ll get that ace on your funeral pyre!” She
receives only a click for confirmation that her message has gotten through and
soon they are flying through a sea of Kuati vessels. Biting down on her lower
lip, she prepares for her run as she says to herself, “Commander better get
here quick, before there’s nothing left to scrape up.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Careening
through the expansive underground tunnels of Chandrila on a speeder bike was not
exactly how Bowen Dracul wanted to spend his time, but not being shot at around
every turn was worth the trade off. The few times they had come up out of the
ground had eventful in that way, but fortunately he and Reklaw were good shots
and they all faired well. Except of course for the landspeeder shuttle, which
had taken several hits, much to the dismay of Master Fyrenon, who had gotten a
little singed on that last opening. However, according to the maps left by
Orion, they were nearly at the Great Plaza, and the Force only knows what awaits
them there. He could feel the panic coming from the people of Chandrila, the
fear and the absolute terror. Knowing that only horrible darkness could cause
such terror and fear, he dreads the sights which will behold them upon reaching
the Plaza. Sensing
his dread and apprehension, Meesahran calls over to her uncle, “Don’t worry,
you can survive one of Aunt Shiiru’s tantrums, you’ll be just fine!” The
gift of his neice’s humor was exactly what he needed to regain his focus.
Somehow, Meesahran always knew the right moment for those little jokes. Either
that, or she just knew her old Uncle a little to well. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ At
the end of the underground passageways, the “We
must struggle to stay together, for I fear the result should we meet with the
dark lords alone...” Seeing their acceptance of his direction, he also looks
into the eyes of each for an answer to this dilemma.
When he reaches the face of Cherié Mehand, he finds hope, “Do you know
of another way to reach the Great Hall, Cherié” “Yes,
there is another tunnel, but we would have to reach the Université first.
The Plaza is the end of the line for all the underground passageways
because of the spring below it. It
will take time to reach the hall in such a manner, as the Université is on the
opposite side of the city. Do we
have that kind of time?” Her words
are quick and well spoken, and as Master Mussiri considers them, a notion pops
into his head. Turning
to the only member of the White Current to follow them in their quest, “Can
you create the image an impasse for the people who are fleeing the city?
One that we could use as a conduit for reaching the Great Hall through
the Plaza?” Looking
within herself, Taleri searches for an answer.
“In a manner of speaking, yes, but it will appear more as a parting of
the reeds than a clear path. I am
only one, and cannot affect as many minds as the whole.”
She nods her head in shame. “That
should be sufficient for our goals, good friend.
I wish to bring no harm to the frightened people of this city, and on our
present course, that seems like an impossibility.”
Looking around to get confirmation from the others, “We shall follow
your lead, good friend.” Forming
up behind the woman (with those carrying weapons on the outside), the adepts
prepare to make their way through the crushing mob.
Taleri pulls all of her focus into one thought, and gaining strength from
those around her, she projects a single thought into the minds of the crowd.
Quickly they begin to part, as though an invisible barrier is before
them. Swiftly, the group advances
into the vacancy left by the pressing throng. As
they continue along, their speed increases and soon they near the Great Hall,
but just as they clear the gates to the courtyard entrance a sight like no other
stops Taleri in her efforts. The
bodies of the Council members have been strewn about the courtyard in varying
states of mutilation. Most, dangling
from the pillars and lighting fixtures in a grotesque display of mangled flesh. Overcome
with terror from witnessing such a heinous act, Taleri is brought to her knees
before this show of carnage. Falion
rushes to her side while the others spread out in the courtyard to prepare for
any trouble. “Good
friend, you must go on, or you shall perish in this place.”
Falion pulls her up and puts her arm over his shoulder to help her from
this place. “I
am no good to you now, my strength is gone, good friend.
Leave me here to face what this galaxy has become in our foolish
idleness.” Her words tear through
his heart, but he knows that he cannot simply leave her to be crushed by the
rampaging citizenry. “I
shall not leave you here to face this alone.
We shall get you to a safe place and return for you when we have
completed our mission.” Motioning
for Meesahran to assist him, the two lift her onto their shoulders just as an
explosion rocks the walls just outside the courtyard. Through
a cloud of black and billowing smoke comes the familiar figure of man, guns
drawn and a large pack slung over his shoulder. Shouting out to the adepts,
“Quick, make for cover! We’ve got company coming!” Holstering one of his
weapons, the man takes the pack from his shoulder and splits the halves,
throwing one to Meesahran. “Sahran, set up the detonators, we need to slow
them down.” Meesahran grabs the bag in mid air and looks to Cherié to take
her place with Taleri. Released
from her burden she bolts for the courtyard entrance to ready the detonators.
Master Mussiri takes only a moment to question Orion, “How close?” “Close
enough to make me uncomfortable, so get inside. And if you want darkness, try
the Council chambers, it felt like a volcano went off when I touched down.”
Vic is already setting up the explosives as Master Mussiri begins rushing for
the cover of the Great Hall. “”Quickly,
we must get inside.” And he and Mistress Cherié head for the doors to the
Great Hall with the others close behind. Only
Jae lingers a moment longer, but Master Dracul takes him by the shoulder and
says, “Come on, we have to protect the others… She’ll be fine.” And once
again his voice, his words and his wisdom have shown Jae the way, and so he
double-times it into the Hall with Bowen. Meesahran
assembles and programs the detonator with unbelievable speed, as Vic lays the
explosives around the entrance to the courtyard. “Vic, what’s going on?” Speaking
quickly while he works, Vic tries to explain, “I was shadowing this one team
and I heard a comm telling all the teams to hit the Great Hall to deal with you
guys. I don’t how they knew, but they had our number from the time we touched
down.” Taking
in a breath before she speaks, “They are dark lords, Vic, they are using our
abilities against us.” “Whatever
they are, they got more troops than anyone gave them credit for; a whole
division, as near as I can tell.” He quickly scales the arch to plant another
explosive device, before dropping to the ground in front of Meesahran. “Is it
set up?” With
less than hand’s breadth between them, she answers, “Yeah, I just need to
lines and it’s good to go.” “Good,
then get out of here, I can handle it.” His words with so little emotion, it
startles her. “Just
give me the lines, and-…” He stops her by taking hold of her shoulders and
staring intently into her eyes. “I
Can Handle It! Now GO!” She
shakes loose of his grip, as few could ever do, “I’M NOT GOING ANYWHERE!” A
look of defeat enters his eyes, “Look, I can’t protect you on my own this
time. Besides…” He pauses for what seems like a long time, but is only
moment, “They Need you.” He takes her hand into his and holds it to his
face, “I only Want you. So, please go?” Dumbstruck
by his words, and without words of her own at this moment, she simply caresses
his cheek and leans her forehead to his, their breaths mingling together for
only a moment. However, before that moment can pass, another explosion can heard
and felt in the nearing distance, “Please?” And with his final word, she
places a gentle kiss upon his cheek and nods her head. Closing her eyes, she
breaks their bond and turns away from him. Slowly, she pulls away and then heads
out at a dead run for the others. Vic,
left to his own devices, takes in a sharp breath, and kneels down to connect the
lines to the detonator. As he installs the first line, he closes his eyes and
whispers to himself (or maybe to someone now gone), “I only want you.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Kuati
ships begin to jump into the fray, desperately trying to protect the enormous
capital ship in their midst. With every advance Battle One makes, another Battle
Cruiser comes in to attack him. His ship and his men are battered, but their
determination never falters. Barking
orders in every direction, their commander leads his men in a valiant and strong
attack on the Kuati vessel. Their blastboats nearly depleted, and the lifeless
bodies of many a crewer floating about in the empty spaces of the battle. If it
were not for the sudden appearance of that group of Waverunners,
the battle may have been lost. Suddenly,
breaking comm silence again, the captain of the Waverunners
hails Battle Dog One once more, “Battle
Dog One this is Green Leader, prepare for incoming!” Searching the
vidscreens for some unknown threat or new tactic, the commander completely
misses what the captain was talking about, until the klaxons begins to sound
across his flagship. First
to drop out of hyperspace are the remaining ships of his own fleet, their guns a
blazing. Next, a swarm of Waverunners
and Riptides come surging into the bloody fray. Just as the commander
thinks that is all, a lumber capital ship comes into starboard view. Indeed this
time the tide has turned. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Struggling
to swoop and dive away from the micro-jump point, Captain Tallage pushes the
agility of her vessel to the maximum. Seeing that her squadron, still in tack
since their arrival on the scene, has come up alongside her in perfect formation
brings warmth to her heart. As
the ships pop into existence all around her squadron, the captain receives her
instructions from the commander, “Okay, Greens, listen up!” She is met with
eight clicks signifying their alertness, “Time to share the wealth, so we’ve
been assigned protection detail for Battle Dog One. She’s taking some nasty
hits, so let’s see what we can do for her. Let’s clear the decks and help
her shake off those Battle Cruisers!” She
punches in her suggestions of flight formations to download into everyone’s
computers and then cuts them all loose. Her flight dives straight down and then
inverts to skate along the underbelly of the ship, cleaning away the Kuati
fighters attacking her there. Second Flight clears a path for a wounded
blastboat to make it’s way into the hold of Battle Dig One, while Third Flight
pulls a whirlpool maneuver, swirling around a Battle Cruiser that has taken aim
on the ship. As their Waverunners repeatedly circle around the Battle Cruiser,
the captain can see ship’s fire quickly falling off to nothing, as their gun
ports are sheered off from the blazing fire of Green Three and his Flight. However,
what she cannot see, is that the Kuatis have succeeded in opening a vector
through which the massive capital ship can make it’s escape into hyperspace.
Fortunately, the commander of Battle Dog One does see it, and he begins to order
his men to clear a flight path for him to charge at the Kuati flagship. As
he turns his ship about to get in line with the Kuati flagship, the commander
downloads a pre-recorded transmission into his comm station and hails Commander
Orian. “Go ahead, Battle Dog One.” Before
answering the commander, he gives the abandon ship alert to his crew, as he
redirects all control of the ship to his command chair. “Commander Orian,
please see to it that this gets into the right hands.” He punches a key and
sends the transmission to Tsunami Gale. “I am certain, that you are the man
for the job, my Dear Friend.” And with that he closes the comm down. There are
no words that can change his mind now. If the Kuati rulers are allowed to escape
this scene, there will be no end to this despicable evil. They must be
destroyed, and if that means he must join them, then so be it. He believes it to
a be a small price to pay for his own evils. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Commander
Orian, upon hearing the man’s words, is confirmed in his suspicion of the
man’s identity. Seeing the escape vessels pouring out of Battle Dog One, he
also knows exactly what the man is planning, and if it is going to work, he
better direct his ships to protect his vector to the Kuati flagship. “All
hands! Grease the rails for Battle Dog One! Get her through that opening the
other Battle Dogs have opened up while you deal with your targets.” With
laserfire seering into that flight lane, nothing could survive the blasts.
Battle Dog One begins to accelerate to an unbelievable sublight speed and is
slowly making up the ground between the two vessels. Each meter that closes
between them means that much more damage when the moment comes. The battlefield
grows more anxious on both sides; the Kuatis to allow the escape of their
leader, and the rest to stop it at all costs. As
Silvas watches Battle Dog One heave its way towards the Kuati vessel, he notices
a single Waverunner chasing after the huge Commenoiran pirate ship. Instantly
knowing the identity of that pilot, without even looking at the ship’s ID, he
hails the fighter, “STAND DOWN GREEN THREE!” When he receives no response,
he tries again, “Green Three this is Commander Orian, and I am ordering you to
stand down!” “This
is personal, Sir, so I respectfully decline your order.” The voice of Yorel
Tryashoenu fills the commander’s ear, but he knows that this is not the way
this battle should end. “Listen
boy! If he knew you were following him into this, it would be his end. Pull up
and return to your squadron, at once!” The commander pours every ounce of
concern he has for the boy into his words and hopes beyond measure that he will
heed the call. Just
before Battle Dog One closes to within two hundred meters, the Waverunner pulls
off and returns his squadron. When he is just barely out of blast range, Battle
Dog One explodes into a brilliant fury of roiling gases and tears the Kuati
flagship in twain, spilling its contents out into the void of space. As tiny,
accessory explosions begin to make their way across each section of the ripped
vessel, the fighting begins to subside and hails of surrender can be heard from
many of the Kuati vessels. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Rushing
through the first corridor of the Great Hall (and the source of all this
terror), they quickly find a safe place to rest their weakened comrade. Master
Mussiri is the first to speak, “Are you certain you wish to be left, Friend
Taleri?” “Yes,
Master Mussiri, I am too weakened by all that I have done and all that I have
seen… I would only be a burden to you now… From here, perhaps I can warn you
if anyone makes it past the courtyard, but with you I could cause someone else
harm. My place is here, Master.” She places a hand of comfort atop his own,
and nods to him that all is well with her in this place. He returns her nod and
walks back out into the corridor to speak with the others. Just
as he begins to speak, Meesahran comes running up to meet them, “We haven’t
much time, Master. The insurgents are amassing around the Hall as we speak, we
have only created a delay.” Laying
a hand across her forearm, Master Mussiri attempts to comfort his pupil, “And
Orion?” She
nods her head to show she accepts his gesture and then answers for all to hear,
“He’s doing what he does best, so that we can take care of our own
business.” Sensing
that the subject is closed he turns to the others, “The most energy appears to
be emanating from the Grand Council Chambers, and it is there we must go.”
They each acknowledge his insight and prepare to make for the Chamber. “Reklaw,
Fyrenon and I’ll take the lead, everyone else stay behind us. We have the most
firepower in case there are any more surprises waiting for us.” They each nod
and step into place behind the three men, with Bowen at the front, his heavy
pulse rifle at the ready. Upon
reaching the entrance to the chamber, they find the doors shut against them.
After Tibbierion and Roltern try to force the doors open, Bowen looks to Jae.
“You got any explosives on ya?” “Unfortunately,
no… But if we supercharge these pulse rifles, I bet we can get the force we
need to blast the doors open.” As the words leave his lips, they both begin
charging the guns. As the whine from their power sources begins to reach a
fevered pitch, Jae calls to the others, “Cover your faces and stand back…
This may not be pretty.” In an instant the men both fire at the giant doors
and watch as the metal latches begin to glow with their combined fire and melt
away from the doors themselves. “Not
bad for a laser-brain.” Meesahran calls to Jae as she and a few of the other
begin to push the enormous doors open and walk through, leaving Jae, Bowen,
Fyrenon, Toryn and the hatchmates Roltern and Tibbierion to keep watch for any
trouble before they enter themselves. Just
as the remaining six are about to walk through the doors a man comes flying
through the air behind them. Leading with his shoulder and firing with both guns
at the suddenly amassed group of mercenaries behind them, Vic Orion warns them
of the danger, “DOWN!!!” And soon there is a volley of blaster fire seething
through their ranks. Vic
hits the ground and goes into a roll which brings him up on one knee, still
firing and the far end of the group. The others begin to return fire with their
weapons, but their power packs are nearly depleted within seconds, when all of a
sudden a voice fills the air with a poison that attempts to infect their very
minds. “GO NOT FURTHER, HERETICS!” At
the source of those words is a disturbingly dark man and a band of ruthless
mercenaries. Everyone is nearly paralyzed by the sight and his words, especially
Meesahran. Her
eyes betray a terror beyond any that has been witnessed before.
And when the desperate cry escapes her lips, it causes the very air
around them to scream along with her. In
her mind, she can see only the ravages of torture she was forced to endure at
the hands of this monster. Her
poisoned mind, her brutalized body and the face of that man: that man and a
woman. And just as soon as that last
thought enters her mind, she spins around to find the very object of her every
nightmare staring right into her very soul: The Dark Woman! With
their astonished paralysis broken by her tortured cry, Jae-Lee looks from
Meesahran to the newly emerged dark woman and before his mind can register that
he is too far away from Meesahran to defend her, he also realizes that their
group has become separated by the entryway.
However, his realization comes too late, as the monstrous doors are
slammed shut against him, leaving him and his part of the group outside of the
chamber to face the dark lord and his mercenaries alone, and away from
Meesahran. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ In
shock from all they have born witness to, the remaining members of The Chosen
stand motionless at the sight of the Lady Lusankya, herself. The Dark energies
exuding from her are enough to frighten even the most hardened cynic to the
powers of the Force. However, by tapping into that Darkness she has taken a
desperate toll on her body and her mind. Warped by its constant feeding, her
insanity is as obvious as the lines on her quickly weathering face. Breaking
free of the stupefaction afflicting them all, Master Mussiri is the first to
speak, “Barevi!” His voice filled, not only with damning, but with
familiarity. Hearing
his voice, the Dark Woman turns to view its source, and soon a calamitous cackle
begins to fill the air. With everyone now free of their bewilderment, they each
attempt to take a ready position. Everyone, that is, but Meesahran. Her face is
one of sheer horror, and she moves not an inch. Enjoying
the folly of Master Mussiri’s attempt to influence her, Barevi Lusankya
finally ends her laughter to respond to him, “Please, Mussiri… I am not one
of your weak-winded pupils. You can no longer reach this mind,” she says with
such vitriole as she taps at her temple. “And
neither did I ever desire to, Barevi… Far too cold and a dark a place. And
terribly desolate, as I recall.” The Good Old Man attempts to jibe her out of
her focus on Meesahran. Staring
intently at the golden haired young woman with whom she believed to no longer
have to deal with again, Barevi replies, “It was well enough to make short
work of your pupil standing there.” Her eyebrow raises in a gesture of deep
disdain for Master Mussiri and her dismissal of Meesahran. “Yes,
and what of that, Barevi… Setting your sights on children? It would seem to me
that you have so weak as to not be able to handle adults any longer.” The
master works at getting the Dark Woman to direct her anger towards him. “Tsk,
tsk, tsk, Old Man… You should know better than that… We have my pathetic
excuse for a brother to thank for her choosing… I was merely dealing with the
garbage, once he was through with her.” She takes a step towards Meesahran,
and begins to look at her more closely. “Though, by the looks of her, I would
have to say I may not have been on my best game at the time… I’ve never had
a survivor.” Her
last word breaks through Meesahran’s mind like a stone through large pane of
glass. Through everything that has ever happened in her life, Meesahran has but
one trait; she was always a survivor. Even the despicable, deplorable and
inhuman tortures she was forced to endure at the hands of this woman, and her
brother, Meesahran came out alive and strong. She was not damaged by the things
that have happened in her life, she has been shaped them. Standing here today,
she would not be the person she is, were it not for the pains she had endured.
Not betraying the revelation on her face or with her body and thoughts,
Meesahran waits for the right moment. Finding
no more delight in seeing this girl standing in utter fright before her, Barevi
turns her attentions toward the others. As she scans the faces of the people
present, she spots another familiar visage. An evil chuckle escapes her lips,
“If it is not one of the many mewling brats of the LATE Ruler Mehand…
Terrible tragedy, my dear… Couldn’t have happened to a better person.” Cherié
struggles to stamp down the anger welling up in her heart. This is the woman
responsible for the threats on her mother’s life. This snarling beast is the
reason her family has lived in fear for more than twenty years. In her eyes,
Cherié
can see the hundreds of plots swirling around inside her deranged mind. Cherié,
however, holds true to her upbringing and her training, and simply holds her
position. Barevi,
sensing that her torment hit its mark, moves on to the others. “Such an
esteemed group sent to deal with my little endeavors… Had trouble getting
volunteers, did you Mussiri?” Once again her raised eyebrow sends a wave of
disdain, but this one gets no response. Outside
the chamber, the sounds a fierce battle can be heard. The intense blasterfire,
the melee of debris being blown about and the shouts of angry men filter in when
the silence allows them. Striding back and forth across the raised dais before
the adepts present, Barevi decides that her play time is over. Without
warning, a wave of seats begins to hurl itself into the gathering of The Chosen.
As the tide rises to meet them, they are suddenly halted and blasted away in all
directions, leaving only Mistress Kyra Salynnadorn standing with her arms
outstretched as she tosses the seats away from her companions; a devilish smile
upon her face. Barevi claps
her hands together in a stilted rhythm, “Well done! Such a talented
telekinetic you have brought with Mussiri… I see you have thought of
everything.” She pauses a moment and begins to walk towards the back of the
dais, before spinning back to stare at them once more, “I suppose it is good
to include those who are strong, where you are weak, Old “Face the
truth, Barevi… Your time has neared its end… And since you shall not depart
gracefully, you shall be removed, expediently.” His words, so solemn, mean
nothing to Barevi, as her madness as surpassed any rational conversation. “I do not
believe that to be true, Old Man… I was decimating greater foes than these
when THEY were still on the teat. My power is far greater than you could well
imagine, Old Man!” Her words, simply dripping with the cold sting of evil. The Master
looks straight at Barevi and returns her glare, “Then I suppose that was why
you had to enlist the Kuati’s to gain entrance on Chandrila… Seems an odd
alliance for such a staunch supporter of the Anti-Kuati Defense League. How can
you hope to gain the trust of people of Chandrila when you are in bed with their
oldest enemy?” “I DO NOT
NEED ANYONE’S TRUST, OLD MAN!!!” Her words echoing throughout the Great
Hall. Realizing that she has been provoked, she traces her hands along the seam
of her dress, then, taking a deep breath, she replaces the strand of hair which
has fallen during her outburst. “I am not here to be a ‘ruler,’ I am here
to take my rightful place at the throne. The place that was denied to me by that
simpering she-beast Mehand. I am on Chandrila because it BELONGS to me, as do
the people. I do not NEED their trust, because they will owe me their very
lives.” Sensing the
anger rising up in her, Master Falion knows she is about to attack, but he is
unable to break through the barrier put in place by the others to keep her out
of their minds. His fear is given life when she speaks again, “And now, I will
take back what is mine!” From all around them at once, the seats rise and
begin to swirl about, the fixtures from the walls and ceilings take flight and
no loose piece of furniture remains still. They are all under attack by her
telekinetic assault on their persons and their senses. Her saber
drawn, Master Hutchsnare is forced to slice and parry more and more debris as
time goes on. Her telekinesis lacking, she is forced to battle the onslaught
with open combat. Flipping and rolling as she slashes the objects in twain, she
is a blur of motion in her endeavors. Mistress
Salynnadorn struggles to keep the debris away from herself and Master Jsarn
Melotian with her voluminous telekinetic abilities. His saber at the ready, he
works to keep the pieces she cannot stop at bay. Master Beldon
Marsenal, standing closest to Master Mussiri, struggles to keep pace with the
man. Heedless of the dangers being thrown at him, Master Mussiri tries
desperately to reach the Dark Woman and put a stop to this insanity. Suddenly,
Master Marsenal is struck by a large object and goes reeling to the floor in a
heap. Master Mussiri stops to check on the man’s health when he is instantly
sent into a storm of spasms. When he looks down at his own flesh, he finds tiny
ripples of greenish energy bands encircling his body. And when he hears the
screams of the others, he knows that he is not alone. A look of pure,
unadulterated evil fills the face of Lady Barevi Lusankya as she screams out,
“I WILL HAVE MY REVENGE!!!”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Having
seen the terror in her eyes, to be separated from his dearest friend causes
Jae-Lee Reklaw more pain than he has felt since the death of his father.
But before him lies at least one clue to the suffering that his friend
has endured and that being will pay for his despicable acts. Throwing
the pulse rifle to the ground and drawing the front saber with his right hand,
Jae-Lee Reklaw drops immediately into an imposing battle stance, daring the
mercenaries with his very presence. Holding the saber at the ready on his right
(the blade crackling with the ferocity of its energy), he looks to his
companions, and finds that they too, have taken their own stances. From behind
him, he hears the cold and commanding voice of Master Bowen Dracul, “You will
not last the hour, Dark One. Stand
down, and perhaps your life can be saved.” The fire in Dracul’s eyes matches
the fire that Jae can feel burning deep within his soul. The
dark lord laughs at his supposed arrogance, “You obviously know very little of
my sister, you ignorant buffoon!” Vic
rises and stares down the dark lord with a look of such intense hatred that his
gaze can be felt by all around him. He
reloads his trusted slug thrower pistol and calls the dark lord out, “And you
know nothing of me.” Slamming the cartridge into place, he spits out his last
words at the man, “But you won’t live long enough to find out.” And with
this exchange the mercenaries open up their weapons once more, turning it into
scene of laserfire careening back and forth across the entryway. As
the blaster bolts fly, Jae easily deflects them with his right handed blade and
with the assistance of the Masters at his side. Standing as a warrior among many
other brave souls, Jae-Lee can feel the surge of pride and honor flowing into
him from those standing by. Even separated from a large part of their group,
these seven powerful beings are well more than any band of mercenaries could
hope to overcome. Add to that the sheer strength and determination of Vic Orion
and Jae cannot see anyone getting the better of them right now. With
each volley, the group inches its way closer to the mercenaries and their lord.
And with each advance the Lord Lusankya grows evermore uneasy with his
choice. He begins to search for
answers from the minds of his attackers, finding not only their desire to stop
his sister’s plans on Chandrila, but in three of the men he senses a blind
hatred for him. A hatred caused by
something that he himself has wrought: the girl!
That can’t be the same girl, she was killed.
Barevi told me I killed her! Damn her black heart! As
a bolt whizzes past his ear, Lord Corevi finds himself with another choice: stay
and die, or run and live (for now). As
the mercenaries continue to pour their blasterfire into the assembly of mystics,
Corevi is faced with the fact that their progress is unimpeded. Desperation and
doubt fill his soul, and he reaches out to his unseen sister beyond the Grand
Chamber doors. When he feels only hatred and contempt, he knows that she will
offer him no support, and his resolve melts ever further into that black pit he
calls a soul. Once again searching the minds of those rallying against him, Lord
Corevi Lusankya touches upon their desire to see him pay for the wrongs put upon
that girl and to annihilate any chances he and Barevi have at regaining the
throne of Chandrila. And then his mind touches upon the strange man who rushed
in to warn them of his attack. The dark man, a man with hatred and anger
seething from every part of his being, is doing everything he can to get to
Corevi right now. Knowing that the man will stop at nothing, not even his own to
save his own life to take from Corevi his own life, he begins to seek out an
opportunity to slip past the group. Throwing all of his long latent strength in
the Dark Arts into bringing the beams and columns down into the melee, he hopes
that it might give him a chance to escape behind the barrage of falling debris.
When their attentions are focused on the insuing chaos, Corevi ducks down into a
hidden corridor and makes his departure. Seeing
through the Dark Lord’s plan, Vic lets loose an inhuman sound and surges
through the falling marble to follow him in chase. For Victor Orion, there is no
other task now. This man, this dark lord, this inhuman beast, this butcher of
young women must die, and Vic is the one to take him out. He vows at that
moment, as the rocks fall down around him, and he dodges to and fro, trying to
escape their weight, that he will spill the blood of this creature, even if it
takes his last dying breath. Jae
begins to feel a sense of desperation coming from the mercenaries, and when
looks up, he sees that the Dark Lord has vanished. And just as he turns to the
others, he catches a glimpse of Vic diving through the cascading rubble of the
ceiling just behind the mercenaries, taking another man down as he disappears
behind the debris. Deciding that the Dark Lord will be in capable hands, Jae-Lee
Reklaw begins to advance, pushing ever closer to the entrenched gunmen. With the
others following his lead, Jae begins to re-direct the bolts into the main focus
of the blasterfire. Scoring hit after hit, Jae begins to sense that they will
soon charge at him and the others. Looking to Masters Dracul and Vinriiinng for
conformation of his intuition, he squares off and prepares to meet the charge
head on. Seeing them take the same position, Jae is heartened to look upon the
rest of their group, with nary a casualty, yet. Just
then, ten men come at them from the right flank, with more pouring in from other
directions as well. Jae, at the ready, dodges the first man, and parries the
second. Sensing a need for bravado, Jae reaches for his back and with his left
hand he finds his other blade, the special one, within his grasp. Making a grand
sweep with his right hand over his head (and separating the head of another
mercenary from his body), he brings forth his left hand, hilt turned down, blade
igniting. In a great flourish, he brings down the right hand in a gaping arc,
striking the marble flooring to his right, from front to back, and leaving
behind a tremendous, blackened, semi-circular gash into the stone. And then in
another great flurry, he swings his left arm up and to the left-rear
(eviscerating another mercenary in the flourish), twisting his body as he does
so and then brings it down in an opposing arc to complete the circle, from back
to front with another slash to the floor. His attackers, mesmerized by the
awesome display are halted in their advance. Then, with a grim determination
that has never before taken hold of his soul, Jae-Lee Reklaw, bringing his
blades into a sizzling cross above his head, makes his stand inside the newly
formed circle. The
awe quickly leaves their faces, and they begin to charge him once more. With
each oncoming mercenary, Jae parries and dodges the blasterfire, returning some,
but mostly just bridging the distance between himself and his attackers. And as
they near his circle of death, they each meet their dooms on the blade of his
saber. One takes a reverse slash to the midsection, while another charges
blindly into the blade itself. Yet another gets close enough to receive a
roundhouse kick to the jaw, just before Jae ends his life by removing his head.
One by one, they all meet their fates in the sapphire blue glow of Jae’s twin
blades. When
he downs the last attacking man, he looks for more but sees only a heap of
smoking and charred flesh at his feet. Taking
a breath, Jae begins to scan the hall, searching out his companions… Master
Bowen Dracul, beaming with so much lifeforce that he could be felt from across
the galaxy, stands amid a pile of dismembered bodies, literally glowing with the
radiance of the Force as he flips over his current and last attacker. Bringing
his blade around in a grand arc as he lands firmly outside of his own circle,
Bowen bisects the charging foe with the elegantly fluid turn of his golden
blade. Turning to see if anyone else is in need, he notices Jae-Lee on his right
staring back at him in amazement. Then looking to his left, he finds Master
Toryn Vinriinng, seething with the pain of his fallen life partner, Master
Fyrenon Obisidian as he holds the fading body in his arms. And further to the
left he sees Masters Tibbierion and Roltern lying lifeless atop their own piles
of fallen mercenaries; two more casualties to this insane action. Shaking
himself from the reverie of the scene before him, Master Dracul suddenly
realizes that the Dark Lord is not among the casualties. Looking around, hoping
to catch sight of the evil beast, Master Dracul is instantly aware that Orion is
also missing. He then looks to Jae for answers. Jae
simply points at the site of the mercenaries ambush position, “He went after
Lusankya.” Jae-Lee searches the man for a sense of his emotions right now, but
not being able to pierce his barrier to the Force, Jae can only guess from the
expression upon his face, that he understands. A
brief moment passes and the two men look to the doors, “We must turn our
attention to the present, Reklaw… To the others.” And as the words leave
Master Dracul’s lips, Master Vinriinng rises and joins his friends. Jae and
Bowen fight to keep their focus through the now searing pain of their comrades,
trapped behind those massive doors, but he can also feel something else.
Something even greater than their terror: Meesahran’s lifeforce. The
three remaining men, having destroyed their attackers, set about to enter the
Grand Council Chamber. They must get to the aid of their companions, whose
screams of anguish they can now hear in their ears, as well as feel in the
depths of their souls. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ A
torrent of energy shoots from her hands, as though she commanded the lightning
from the very heavens themselves. The
hundreds of tendrils of energy bands begin to envelope the assembled force,
driving them to their knees in agony. All,
but one. Meesahran
Tofallin, moving away from the place in which she was pretending to be frozen
(and where she was thought to be completely benign), begins to cross in front of
her companions, outstretching her arms to her sides, with a look of total
serenity still firmly entrenched upon her visage. “You
dare not stand against me again, little one,” snarls the dark woman.
Turning her attention to the young woman and releasing her hold on the
collapsed group on the floor. “You
will not be so fortunate this time, whelp!”
It is then that the dark woman pours the full fury of her energy bands
onto the golden haired young woman, completely encasing her within its ferocious
grip, while the strains of her actions begin to form on her own face as darkened
wrinkles. With each strike a new
line forms on the dark woman’s face and the fury of her actions is seen in the
lightning and in the forming of the purplish lines. Yet,
the girl still advances. The
energy begins to move towards her hands, as if drawn into her very grasp.
Frustrated at the girl’s stamina, the dark woman puts all of her effort
into the next wave of energy ripples. Yet,
the girl still advances. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Racing
down darkened passageways, Vic stays just out of sight of the Dark Lord during
his pursuit. Within the first few minutes of his chase, Vic decided that this
man could not have acted alone, and that the grand scale of this plan was well
beyond two people with a single-minded agenda. No, this was much bigger than it
appeared on the surface. If he was truly to exact vengeance on this man, he
would have to go after everyone who had placed him in a position to perpetrate
such evil on anyone. So,
the hunt began for Victor Orion. And for Vic, the hunt was real. He stayed just
out of range of the man, but never lost track of him. He shut himself off to the
Force so as not to be detected. In fact there were only two people capable of
finding him when he shut himself down. One was fighting a horde of mercenaries
right now, and the other… The other is not any position to find herself at the
moment, let alone him. No, this time Vic was completely on his own, and that was
just fine by him. Just
as he nears an opening in the dark passage, he slowly peers out into the
clearing before him. In the clearing he finds a small ship firing up its
engines. Reaching into his pack, he pulls out a tiny, magnetic, tracking device,
and waiting for just the right moment (as the ship is lifting off of its landing
skids), he hurls it at the underside of the vessel. As the sleek one man ship
continues off across the tree line, Vic sees the tell tale lights of the device,
showing that it has acquired its target, undetected. “Thanks, Sahran.” And
with his words, he reaches out to connect with her in the hopes of finding out
that she is okay. What he finds nearly knocks him off his feet. Dropping to his
knees, Vic cries out with the pain of twenty-five years of submerging his
emotions. “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Struggling
to rise and assist his pupil, Master Mussiri reaches out to Meesahran through
their Force bond, sensing nothing but calm, peace and serenity where only
moments ago there was naught but gripping fear and tortured pain. The master
suddenly realizes what she is doing and calls out to her, Meesahran, stand
down! The Force Lightning shall
destroy you! Looking up at
her slender form, only barely visible through the mass of lightning, he sees her
looking back at him with only a faint smile. Across
his face passes the knowledge of the future, seen through the eyes of his pupil.
His pupil: who has become a master before his own eyes.
The
others in the group now struggle to rise and all look from the girl to Falion,
and each learning the truth from the look of resignation on his weathered face.
When a sudden discharge of energy is sent into their middle once more,
they are forced back into their agony, and now they have this added knowledge to
increase their pain. Lady
Barevi Lusankya feels the fear, the pain and the anguish coming off of the
cowering horde. The weak fools who
were sent to dispatch her from this realm are now feeding her power with their
grief for this pathetic child. Lady
Lusankya luxuriates in their fear a moment longer, relishing in the delicious
feeling it provides her, but not for long, as she is also beginning to feel the
effects of the tremendous amount of energy she is exhausting in her strikes.
Sensing the need to get this over with quickly, she unleashes the power
that their despair has given her and sends them yet another bolt of Force
Lightning for their pain and then concentrates fully on the ridiculous child
before her. “You
will pay dearly for your arrogant pride, young one.”
Barevi sends another wave of energy at the girl. Yet,
still she advances. Swirling
around in cascading patterns of energy, the lightning still being drawn to her
hands, Meesahran brings her arms into her chest and as she extends them outward
some of the bolts are thrown back at Barevi.
The
shock of the returned bolts suspends Barevi’s barrage, but only momentarily.
As she once again continues the assault, she begins to look around for
something that will put a stop to this insipid whelp of a girl.
Spying a pair of pikes, lying just below her feet, Barevi summons them
with her left hand as she continues to rain lightning down upon the girl with
her right. Once aloft, Barevi spares
another bolt for the mass of writhing flesh on the ground and positions the pikes
in a final assault on the life of this infernal child. “I
grow tired of this display.” Barevi
raises the pikes and prepares to strike, but the young woman continues to
advance as she slowly withdraws her lightsaber and ignites it.
The contrasting glows between the deep scarlet of her blade and the green
Force Lightning as it is absorbed into its shaft casts an eerie shadow across
the young woman’s face, giving her the appearance of a spirit instead of a
flesh and blood woman. Forced aback
by the specter before her, Barevi’s face turns into a hideous scowl, “I
should have put you out of my misery many years ago, you disgusting little
wench.” She takes aim and launches
the taloned pikes at the girl: the first sliced in two by a quick swipe of
Meesahran's saber, but the second pierces her, unchallenged, straight through
the mid-section, and Barevi lets loose a howl of sheer delight. Yet,
still she advances. With
little effort, Meesahran removes the many-pronged pike from her abdomen and
drops the pike at her feet as she continues forward.
Barevi stands in utter shock and the lightning ceases to fly from her
fingertips as the girl stalks forward, blade drawn and prepared to strike.
Snapping to her senses, Barevi returns to wielding her weapon and awaits
the advancing young woman. Without
a single expression upon her face, Meesahran nears the dark woman and can feel
her fear, her confusion, her hatred. Yet,
Meesahran feels nothing but peace, passivity, serenity, calm.
She has finally found it, at the end: her center.
Knowing what she must do, and the resulting end, has brought more peace
to her life than she can ever remember knowing before.
No... Wait… There was
another time... Her parents, she can feel them with her, she can remember,
she knows. Upon
reaching the dark woman, Meesahran must block a piece of furniture that has been
heaved at her with a spinning motion to the left.
That motion brings her lightsaber low and swinging up from her right side
as she completes the spin and brings the blade back across her front and into
the ready position to once again face the dark woman.
But the dark woman is no longer standing before her. . .
And now, neither is Meesahran. Now
free from the terrible Force Lightning, Master Mussiri is able to once again get
to his feet, allowing him the ability to rush to the collapsed heap that was
once his pupil. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Scrambling
to gather something to break open the doors to the Grand Chamber, Jae-Lee, Bowen
and Toryn work at a feverish pace to get to their companions. As Bowen totes a
box of power packs to the door he notices movement out of the corner of his eye.
When he turns to warn the others, he finds Jae standing with his hand raised, in
a gesture of silence. Toryn, seeing the exchange, ducks back under the eave used
by the mercenaries to hide his presence. Bowen
places himself against the wall in an effort to not be seen and Jae slinks over
the opening in the Grand Chamber’s entryway. Just as he is about to peer
around the corner, he is met with the barrel of a very large pulse rifle.
Raising his hands in the air, and hoping they have not seen the others, Jae
plays along, until a good move can be made. However, once the owner of that
pulse rifle shows himself from around the corner, all of Jae’s tension melts
away, “It’s about time you guys got here!” The
commando squad captain shows himself and signals the rest of his men to come
forward into the entryway. “And you are?” “About
to get inside those doors, with some help from those pulse rifles you’re
carrying.” He calls out to Bowen to come quick. When he appears, Jae tosses
him the captain’s pulse rifle and then grabs another. “You think we have
enough to blast those doors off the hinges this time?” That
sinister grin is back on Bowen’s face, “One way or another, we’re getting
through those doors, boy.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Overcome
with grief, Falion is desperate to get to Meesahran’s side. But before he can
reach her fallen body, the great doors to the Grand Chamber are suddenly thrown
open with a violent crash. Springing forth from the cloud of dust which follows
is Jae-Lee Reklaw and the remainder of their forces, including some Chandrillan
Defense Force commandos. Reklaw
runs up to Falion and looks into his eyes for answers, when he at last sees the
slumped figure of his dearest friend and the eviscerated body of the dark woman.
Split from left hip to right shoulder, the dark woman is no longer the
snarling beast he saw only moments before his separation from Meesahran and the
other Followers. Just away from the
body, and still rocking from the force of its removal, sits the severed head of
the evil woman, but Jae’s focus is on Meesahran. The
terrible agony in his heart is given a moment of hope, when he sees her hand
grasp her saber once more. Falling
to his knees and taking her up into his arms, he now sees the horrible gaping
hole in her abdomen and scorched lips, and the blood leaking over them from her
lungs. He brings his desperate gaze
up to the Masters that have now gathered around him, but in their eyes he finds
only defeat and resignation. Cradling
her head against his chest, Jae-Lee Reklaw does something he can never remember
doing in his entire life; he begins to weep.
Rocking her back and forth and trying to will her back to life, his tears
fall onto Meesahran’s pale and distant face.
As Jae falls further and further into despair, he feels a familiar and
insistent presence. Opening his
eyes, he finds himself looking down into those shining emerald pools once more,
“Mees!” His heart leaps with
joy. “Hold on, Mees. We’ll get
out of this yet, you and me.” His
tears are now streaming down his cheeks and cascading onto her face, but she
only smiles: a resigning smile. And it makes Jae’s words catch in his throat. “I-I
found it Jae.” She pauses to use
great effort to fill her lungs once more, “I finally found it. . .
It really is-. . .” As she coughs, she tries to finish her words,
“wonderful. So. . .
Much. . . Peace. . .”
And with her last words, those emerald pools drift away. “Noooooooooooooo!”
Jae hugs her to his chest and pleads for her to return, but as he
struggles to hold on to her, he can feel her weight start to fall away, leaving
him clutching only her worn and tattered jacket. Shaking it loose, and holding
it up in to the sky, he lets loose a thunderous and anguished cry in protest to
the passing of his closest friend. But then, a slender chain, with two golden
rings upon it, falls to the cold, hard marble floor.
The
sound of the metal on the thick marble catches Jae-Lee’s attention and he
reaches out for it, as he wipes the tears away from his eyes.
Still warm to the touch, he forces himself to focus on the rings. Barely
able to see through his grief, the details of the intricate patterns and the
ancient Corellian inscriptions are crystal clear to him.
Jae holds them up to his Uncle Falion, “What do they say?” From
everywhere and nowhere, they can all hear the words that begin to fill the Grand
Chamber with their power. Joined in Life, As One for Eternity. . . The
voice lowers to a normal level, Heed these words well, Jae-Lee Reklaw, for
they are a gift… And then,
before them arises the spectral image of Meesahran Tofallin, smiling with a
grace that she never possessed in life, but has finally been blessed with in
death. The voice comes down to
barely over a whisper, They contain the warmth from the love of those gone
before. Make good use of them, my
friend. And remember, I will be with
you, always. And with a silent
gust of clean and clear air, she is gone. Creator: PtrsonsZOO (Jennifer)
*SPECIAL NOTE: Due to circumstances beyond our control, the rest of the story will be written by PtrsonsZOO (Jennifer)
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