Star Wars: Darkness Falls
It's been five years since the downfall of the Sith Triumvirate. The Republic, still wounded from the events of the Jedi Civil war ten years previous, is on the brink of collapse.
The Jedi Order, itself on the brink of extinction, has called an emergency conclave to discuss the future of the Order, as well as what shall be done with Kira Starr, the Jedi Exile - whether she will be permitted to return to the Order, or face the fate that the Final Council had decided upon before the intervention of Darth Traya.
At the utmost edge of the galaxy, unseen by the Jedi, an evil presence has faded into existence. As the Jedi Exile is reunited with old friends, the Force itself sinks into the depths of darkness, in search of something beyond anything the Galaxy has ever seen before...
The darkness was utter and complete. In the depths of the inky blackness, a man lay on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably.
"Master... Please, I-"
The rest of his words were drowned in the scream of agony that erupted from his lips, as a pair of unseen hands clenched at his insides. He gasped for air through his blood caked lungs, and coughed up a mixed lump of blood and bile.
A dark, cold rasping sound pierced the darkness in response to his pleas.
"The Fallen Sith, Master... he returns from his-"
He screamed again, and the veins in his skull threatened to burst through his scalp as his body was again crushed by an invisible force. The rasping continued, and the man forced a nod, instantly lifting the pain from his body.
"Revan... lives, Master..." he panted, spitting more blood onto the black floor.
The dark rasps sounded again, accompanied by a swift chill that pierced to the bone.
"Of course, Master... he... moves towards the system called Y'Toub. To the Smuggler's Moon. She is there as well."
He listened to the sounds once again, and stared up into the shadows that cloaked his master along with the room.
"Yes, Mi'Lord," he said, and he was smiling now. "We have learned the location of the Second. Traya had moved it from the heart of the Academy."
The sounds spoke once more, and the man nodded. "It shall be brought to you immediately, Mi'Lord. The Rogue Jedi shall both be destroyed."
He pulled himself to his feet with difficulty, hiding his pain from the Dark Lord - pain was weakness, and weakness was not tolerated. He bowed low, almost collapsing to the floor again, before turning and limping from the room.
The dull, slimy street of Nar Shaddaa reeked of drug, drink, and sweat. The night was still young, and the streets were deserted, last call not for another three hours. The quiet lay thick on the ears, interrupted only by the sounds of drinking and gambling emitting from the surrounding taverns.
The peace was torn by an odd hissing sound, accompanied by descending shots, which gave way to a deep screeching. A small light faded into life about eight feet from the ground, growing steadily brighter. Beneath it, a blue box began to fade into form, taking a solid shape. The screeching came to an abrupt end, as did the flashing light. The box stood there for a moment, as if it had been there for centuries.
A door on one side flew inwards, and a man stumbled out, collapsing on the ground in front of the box. He wore an odd black suit, with white, soot stained frills, and a tear along the left arm, which was soaked with blood - though the man's arm was not damaged. A small gold pocket watch fell from his pocket, the crystal shattered, the arms swinging freely. The man's shoes were a faded black, in desperate need of polishing. The suit itself also appeared several inches too short in the arms as well as the legs, and revealed about an inch of his midriff above the waist.
He pushed himself up again, running his hand through his receding hair. He pulled his hand away suddenly, as if shocked at what he felt atop his head. He stared at his hand, an awestruck look on his face. He prodded his slightly large nose, then rubbed his eyes before turning around to face the box. It had a large black scorch mark on one side, and the light at the top was cracked. A pillar of pale smoke was issuing from the door he had fallen from, and sparks flashed from somewhere inside.
He groaned, massaging his temples - then moved his hands away suddenly, as if shocked.
"New one's always a bit odd to start..." he said, speaking with an odd accent. He clasped his hand over his mouth, as if his voice too startled him. He looked around, taking in his surroundings. He made towards one of the taverns, closing the door of his box as he went.
He made it a few feet before his head exploded with white hot pain, and his midriff ached on both sides. One hand clenched his head, and the other clenched his left heart, which he decided hurt more. He collapsed to the ground, unable to steady himself. He distantly acknowledged a presence nearby, shouting at him, but he couldn't respond. He fell forwards, and the last thing he saw was a burst of white stars as his head hit the concrete, and he blacked out.
The Jedi Exile moved stealthily into the cockpit of the Ebon Hawk, coming up behind the pilot seat. Looking out the viewscreen in front of her, she watched the Smuggler's Moon grow larger as Atton guided the ship closer and closer to its surface.
"Found a dock yet?" she asked. As Atton turned his head to look at her, she gave him a small smile, her arms wrapping around the headrest of the seat as he sat forward to the controls. Se leaned against the seat, her chin resting atop the headrest as she watched him.
"Yeah, we've located an open one. Just looking for clearance." he peeked at her over his shoulder, "What's up with you? You're not normally so...subdued."
She shrugged. "Just finished meditating."
"Ah, I get it now. Man, I swear, you Jedi could sleep through the bombing of your ship when you're meditating."
((Sorry for the cruddy post, right after Doctor's great introduction :xp: ))
What a miserable life, Raquel Annerire thought to herself, gazing with disgusted eyes out into the bar. What made people pick places like this to discuss business? Before she had time to ponder the oddities of alien minds and mental processes, a human male accompanied by two Rodians took their seats across from her.
"So glad you could meet with us, Ms. Annerrrr... what was it?" he said, stumbling over her last name. Raquel's eyes narrowed.
"Annerire," she growled in her rather distinctive accent. "Come on, then. It's not that hard."
"Ann-err-ear-eey?" the human attempted. Raquel sighed.
"Close enough," she said. "What do you want?"
For just a few seconds, the human spoke of the job he wanted done. Then, Raquel shook her head. "I'm not doing that. Find someone else."
"Oh, come on!" the man protested. "It's not like we're asking you to kill... though you have been known to... are you listening to me?"
But Raquel was not. Her face had gone suddenly pale, her mouth open and her eyes wide as a very familiar sound rang out in the alleyway next to the bar. "40 TT," Raquel murmured. "Impossible!"
Now completely ignoring the man and his thugs, she sprang up from her seat. A glimmer of hope sprang into her eyes as she rounded the corner, but she halted abruptly at the sight of the strange blue box. "No..." At that moment, the strange man staggered out and Raquel shrank back into the shadows.
"New one's always a bit odd to start..." he muttered, seeming startled by his own voice. Raquel's expression darkened. Then, the man collapsed, seemingly unconscious. Raquel approached hesitantly, right hand tucked away under her knee-length jacket, gripping the hilt of her knife firmly, ready for anything...
The suited man stirred, coming around again quickly. His head still ached, but the pain had receded slightly. He tried to open his eyes, but even the dim light of the street seared his retinas, so he kept them closed. He gasped for air as another stab of pain erupted in his chest, constricting his airway.
He heard footsteps nearby, approaching slowly. He forced his eyes open, pushing against the pain that shot through his forhead as the light from the nearby streetlamp gouged at his eye sockets.
He barely had time to register the sheen of the approaching black shoes, recognising them as those worn by females, before the pain became too much for him, and he had to close his eyes again. He gasped for air, trying to speak.
"Please... I need..." he gasped in pain again. "I need..."
He suddenly forced his eyes open, and rolled onto his back, the rip at the arm of his suit expanding up to his shoulder. He stripped off the overcoat, revealing a bloodstained grey vest over a white shirt, with a brown necktie tied loosely around his neck. He stripped off the vest and tie as well, leaving only the shirt, with odd frills at the cuffs. He gasped as a fresh wave of pain broke over him, and the already tight shirt strained at the seams as he arched his back, trying to twist away from the pain.
As the pain subsided, he managed to open his eyes again, and look up at the woman approaching, who was now within six feet.
"Please..." he muttered again. "I need... help..."
Raquel approached, her steps faltering slightly as she drew nearer. Slowly, she drew out her knife, her mind screaming at her to take revenge. The knife drew nearer and nearer to the man's chest, but then, Raquel murmured to herself, "No. It's not who I am."
With a quick thrust, her long knife split open his shirt and it fell away. "Looked a bit tight, there," she said, adopting the drawling accent of a Corellian. They stared at one another for a moment. Then, Raquel shifted uncomfortably and looked away. "Well what of it? Haven't you got something else to cover up with?"
The man stared up at her, his pain forgotten as he gazed into her eyes. He recognized her from somewhere, but he couldn't recall where...
He grimaced as pain shot through his chest yet again, but this time he forced it down. He didn't like the look she was giving him. He pulled back slightly, stumbling to his feet.He grimaced as pain shot through his chest yet again, but this time he forced it down. He didn't like the look she was giving him. He pulled back slightly, stumbling to his feet, moving towards the box.
"I have a... a wardrobe... back in the TAR-" He pitched forward slightly, clutching his chest. He straightened suddenly, a smile across his face.
"This could be fun!" he said, beaming. "Always loved this part of it - new pair of clothes, and all."
A faint smile crossed Raquel's lips. "I imagine..." she began. Then, she scowled. "In, then. You're just..." She eyed him with distaste. "... indecent."
His smile widened, but became a grimace of pain as he hunched over for a moment. Then, with lightning fast speed, he turned to the box and dashed inside, already stripping off what was left of the shirt, and undoing the belt to his pants. Raquel followed, but as he undid the belt, she stopped short.
"Not very modest are you?" she demanded critically.
"Can't be," he said. "Don't have the time." He suddenly burst out laughing. "Oh, I crack myself up sometimes!"
She stepped into the box after him, and looked around. She seemed completely unperturbed by what she saw.
The inside was massive. The circular room she had stepped into was a good twenty to thirty metres in diameter, with a large console in the center, covered in switches, bells, exposed circuits, and even what looked like a small sledge hammer attached to it with a bit of rope. The man ran across this room through a door on the other side, still laughing hysterically.
"I am not following you in there," Raquel called after him. But he seemed not to hear, and the door clicked shut behind him. "Oh, hell..." Raquel muttered. "What am I doing?"
Shaking her head, she crossed the room and leaned against the wall, waiting.
The man ran through a labyrinth of twists and turns, going up staircases and down hallways seemingly at random. He threw open a final door, and dashed into a room full of clothes of all types - both human and alien. He ran by the nearest rack of clothes, pulling out clothes here and there, only to throw them aside after a few seconds.
His eyes caught a pair of slightly faded black jeans, and he snatched them from their rack. He smiled, tearing off the black slacks he had been wearing. Now in his knickers, he threw the jeans over his shoulder and ran up a short spiral staircase to a rack of shirts. He pulled out a frilly green shirt, similar to the one that the woman from outside had cut him out of. Pausing for a moment to wonder idly who she was, he tossed the green shirt back onto the rack, and snatched up a violently orange sweater-vest with a horrible brown collared shirt. He considered them with the pants for a moment, then cast them aside as well. He stared hopelessly around the room full of clothes. His eyes fell upon a dash of red, which he reached out and pulled roughly from the hanger. It was a long sleeved, yet lightweight jumper. He smiled, pressing it against the jeans to see the effect. He beamed, and thrust his naked legs into the legs of the pants. They fit well, though they were still a little loose around the waist. He threw the shirt over his head, and pulled it down over his bare chest. He looked down, smiling. He bounded down the spiral staircase, and made for the door. On his way out, something caught his eye.
He turned around, and saw that it was a dark brown, extremely worn leather jacket. He considered it for a moment, wondering why exactly it had caught his eye. It was a simple jacket - a little longer than waist length. The collar was faded with wear. It had three widely spaced button holes, but only one button - the other two having vanished somewhere in the cavernous box. He approached it slowly, making up his mind. He grabbed it, and dashed from the room, his free hand preventing his pants from falling past his hips as he went.
He burst into the console room, still holding up his pants, and threw the jacket over the sledge hammer. He moved past the stranger who had shown him back to his box as if she wasn't there, and snatched up the belt he had cast aside. He threaded it through the loops of his jeans, then turned to her. "Well?" he asked, stretching his arms out. "What do you think?" He beamed at her for a moment. After a few seconds, however, his face fell to a look of terror. "No! Wait!"
He dashed past her again, and picked up the jacket he had found. He threw his arms into it, fighting with the leather around his neck, trying to put the collar back into shape. He shook his arms, then hopped on the spot a bit, to get the jacket into a natural position. He held his arms out again, smiling. "There. How do I look?" He didn't wait for an answer, but arched his eyebrow instead. "Hold on... You can't tell me you haven't noticed?"
"Noticed what?" she asked coldly.
He stared at her for a moment. "The box! It's bigger on the inside than - Oh, forget about it, you'll just ask how."
He moved past her, bursting back into the street. She rolled her eyes, then made to follow. She was a few feet from the door when he burst back in. "I'm the Doctor, by the way," he said. "What's your name?"
Again, he didn't wait for an answer, instead choosing to retreat back to the street. She jogged to the door and stepped out after him, closing it behind her as she stepped into the half-light of Nar Shaddaa.
Daven strolled down the dark streets of Nar Shadaa without fear. He was confident he could handle any petty crook who happened to want to mess with him. He turned a corner and saw a woman and an oddly dressed man. He approached them, with caution and his hand on the hilt of his shortsword.
"Good evening." Daven spoke with a noble voice, yet down to earth.
The Doctor turned to the new arrival smiling brightly. "Hullo!" he said, waving with two fingers. He reached out to shake the man's hand.
He stopped, and doubled over as if he were punched in the gut. There was a sharp hissing sound, and his skin began to glow a goldish orange. He gasped in pain, and a yellow mist escaped his mouth. He fell to the ground, clutching his head as if afraid it were about to fall off.
Memories were flashing back to him. Death. Suffering on a Universal scale. The Time War. All accompanied by a guilt that threatened to overwhelm him completely, and drag him into the depths of darkness...
"Please..." he moaned. "Make it stop... I couldn't... I wasn't..."
Compassion flickered in Raquel's eyes, but then they went cold again and fixed on the newcomer. "This is beyond your comprehension," she told him coldly. "Leave while you still have the option... or he'll destroy you."
When the man didn't move, she glared at him. "Didn't you hear me? I said go!" Gesturing to the Doctor, she added, "He's not safe!"
Visas sat inside the passenger hold of the Ebon Hawk as she always did. Her meditation had improved ever since the night on the Ravager where she swore herself to the lightside of the force.
As the proximity of the smuggler's moon became even greater, she sensed something. Something on the moon, but she could not pinpoint it's origin, it escaped her even perhaps it eluded her. She wasn't one to become restless but she could not stand for this and so she stood up, taking her lightsaber from the floormat next to her. She walked through to the cockpit where the exile and Atton were.
- "There is something in this moon, it's origin is unknown to me" - Visas said neverminding what Atton and the exile spoke of or where doing.
"As you wish." Daven said, bowed then turned and left. He entered the first tavern he came apon. "Corillian ale please." He said to the bartender as he sat down.
The night air was harsh and unwelcoming as it breezed by carrying the smell of urine and alcohol along with gas and other mechanical smells that emanated from the dark and putrid corners of the Nar Shaddaa docks. Oddly however, this wasn't what was bothering the man in the gray cloak who was standing in the shadows trying his best not to be noticed. He had long grown used to the smell of Nar Shaddaa, but what he hadn't gotten use to was the silence of no one being around. From the very moment he had stepped onto the dock walkway, it seemed as though everyone had vanished, something that didn't happen on the planet of Nar Shaddaa much.
In fact, it was so rare that it could only mean one thing, his initial assessment had been correct, and now he was somebody's pray. At this thought, a smile brushed over his face. Bounty hunters, while not seeming all to mighty, could indeed surprise one from time to time with certain tricks one wouldn't expect...or at least one who wasn't attuned with the force.
Resting his hand on his saber, he knew staying here was about as useful as hiding behind a barrel. In fact, he wouldn't be surprised if they had their eyes on him even now.
Stepping forward he let out a short breath of air and then began to walk slowly out into the open walkway of the docks. Immediately, a small round and red dot appeared on his chest moving in small circles above his heart. Running at this point was out of the question but he still had a few more tricks up his sleeve. They would have to wait though.
For now, he calmly put his knees on the ground and his hands behind his head. He hoped that whoever had put the bounty out had asked to receive him live instead of dead because if not, he had just given himself up completely.
Let's I'm wrong, he thought to himself as the red dot continued to circle.
"Hey, pal. I was sitting there." A smelly Rodian said. The tavern smelled of vomit and alcohol, the two smells you would expect in an establishment such as this. "Move your ass before I have to move it for you."
"There's plenty other seats around here," Drake said calmly.
"I said move it!" The Rodian said. Two other Rodians appeared on both his flanks, apparently his buddies. He placed a hand on Drake's left shoulder.
"Bad idea," he said. "Get your hand off of me." He said, making his voice frosty.
"And what if I don't," the Rodian said, taking his chances. Drake took a sip, and put his ale down. Faster than a heartbeat, he shot his hand and gripped the Rodian's hand, violently bending it back until he heard a satisfying snap. Spinning around in his seat, he lashed out with his foot, catching one of the others in the gut. He pulled back his arm with the last Rodian and hit home, leaving a quarter-sized dent in his skull.
"Sorry for the mess," he told the barkeep, flipping him a large denominational coin. He stepped over the bodies and walked outside into the cool night air.
((OOC: Han Solo reference. If you don't get it, you suck.))
"You can sleep through an earthquake after just one Juma, dear Atton."
At that point, Visas walked in and spoke of something that she had felt while meditating. The Exile frowned. She hadn't sensed anything out of the ordinary when she had been meditating...not that she was exactly concentrating on that, but...
"What type of 'something'?" Kira asked.
"Lemme guess, something dark and sinister that's waiting to kill us, right? Juuuust great."
Visas did not mind for Atton's response as she had now grown accustomed to the man's sarcastic and often pessimistic personality but instead turned to face the exile.
- "I am afraid I cannot tell what it is" - Visas said and then turned to Atton - "But I cannot say that I know it's purpose either. As I stated earlier, it's origin eludes me, but there is a presence here and it is not trying to conceal itself or if it were it is failing miserably yet it is constantly changing, hence the reason I cannot say what it is exactly".
A small one man ship dropped out of hyperspace, it’s hull gleaming in the harsh yellow light of the Y'Toub sun. The pilot punched at his controls, trying to bring his thrusters back online. He opened a channel to the docking authorities.
“This is Amol Kotay, of the Starlight. I’ve sustained heavy damage, and request immediate assistance.”
There was no answer. He checked his instruments - his comm system was down. Cursing in a very un-Jedi like manner, Revan looked for the first time at the planet he was heading on a collision course with - Nar Shaddaa.
“If anyone can hear me, this is Amol Kotay of the Starlight. My engines are down, and life support is failing. I don’t know how long I can-”
The ship crashed into a landing pad, part of the engine assembly exploding in a shower of debris. Amol smacked his head on the console in front of him, and the world went black.
Drake was the first on the scene of the crash. He was heading towards his speeder to return home, when a bone shattering crash was heard. He ran over to the ship's cockpit, hoping to find someone still alive.
"Ugh..." A moan cried out from inside the sparking cockpit. Drake, upon not finding a hand hold, punched his fist into the metal and pulled back, creating a horrible metal-on-metal scraping noise. The pilot fell out of the ground and onto the landing pad, and Drake dragged him to a safe distance.
He sat down and propped the man's head up on his lap. He gave him a firm smack on the side of the face, making sure not to hit too hard. "Hey, you. Wake up." Drake said. The man's eyes fluttered open, then shut again. "Don't die on me now," he said, giving the man another slap. The man's breaths came in rasps.
Daven paid his tab and went outside, the odd silence was disturbed by a crash. Daven rushed to see what it was. He saw a man dragging another man from a ship.
"Do you need some assistance?" Daven said running over to the two men.
"Sorry pal, but you're out of luck. You see, despite your reputation, I don't let money I can keep go easily." The fat man sitting across from Phoenix smirked, his two bodyguards gripping their weapons tighter. Then he continued with "And I don't fancy leaving anyone, except myself of course, alive that could be questioned about this assassination, so that leaves you out of luck."
Then less than a millisecond after that, Phoenix put a blaster pistol to the man's head and pulled the trigger. The fat man's bodyguards gaped for a moment at the speed in which their boss had been killed, before one of them suffered the same fate. The last one snapped out of it just in time to feel the last bolt hitting his forehead.
Threat Neutralized. Initiating Routine Search Protocol... Phoenix 'thought' to himself as he searched the bodies for anything of value, coming up with a 100 credits. Some people thought that assassins couldn't defend themselves when faced with open conflict. They were wrong.
Phoenix was in his normal cloths at the moment, armed with only his pistol and his combat knife, when he heard something big crash into the distance. Curious, he went to check it out.
Drake looked over to the man coming to them. "Yeah, I do. This guy's unconscious and he's barely breathing." Drake told him, laying the man's head on the permacrete. "You have any medical training?"
"A little." Daven said examining the man, "alright, move over." He said then took a handful of the water from the ground and splashed it in his face and pumped once on his heart. "Hopefully that'll work, if not, we're going to have to get something strong for him to drink."
"He he," chuckled Drake, wearing a evil smile. "I've got just the thing." he said, pulling out a small tin container.
Kira frowned faintly. Now that she was paying attention...she did feel something strange. And it was constantly changing - changing unlike anything she had ever felt before. So...what was it...?
Something new sparked her interest, and as she turned her concentration to it...her heart nearly stopped. She recognized that presence. But she hadn't sensed it since...
"Atton, turn the Hawk around."
"What? Kira, we're almost--"
"For four seconds, turn the ship!" she said, grabbing his arms and forcing the ship to move a bit to the starboard. From there, she could see a small one-man ship carreening towards them through space. Her eyes were wide as she watched it.
It's him...I know it is!
"Land, quickly." she said, "As close to that ship as you possibly can."
"Good thing he just crashed into our dock." Atton grumbled, shifting the Ebon Hawk and intching it forward. After locking coordinates, he gunned it.
"I won't ask, just pour it down his throat, but not too much, we don't want to drown him."
As the phial tipped towards his mouth, Revan forced the man's hand into the air with a sharp jolt of the Force. His Jedi reflexes kicking in, he flipped into the air, ignoring his legs' screams of protest, and ignited his lightsaber, swinging it out in front of him, forcing the men back.
"Who... are you...?" he panted, grimacing as his heart strained to keep beating.
Visas had formed a strong bond with the exile as they traveled together, both opened the force to one another in their own way, mostly in the time they spent fighting together and talking. She knew that something was happening, and the thought crossed her mind as it was said in the exile's mind.
"Could it be Revan?", Visas asked herself, she had learned of Revan from her previous master and she had marvelled in the legend that he became. The legend was real and there it was 'The heart of the Force' as Darth Traya had said once.
- "Interesting" - Visas said in a monotone voice and headed towards the ship's loading ramp and stood there waiting for it to open, she wanted to meet this Revan and see for herself, in her own particular way, the man she had only heard tales of.
"Hey hey hey," Drake said, jumping back, "Put that saber down. You got into a fight with the dock and the dock won." The man's knee's started to visibly shake. "It's all right, we were just trying to help," he said, his arms all the way out. He took slow steps toward the man, trying not to alarm him. "I'm Drake, and this is...." he said, looking towards the other man.
A rusty and destitute droid lay in a scrap yard, water droplets pounding it's metal body constantly. It was huddled next to a drain, under a high pass walkay that went by the scrapyard.
The droid twitched ever so often, it's extremely dim eyes flickering. It's body was oddly bulky for a droid, and it's body was flecked with rusty stains and spots.
The droid wearily lifted it's head as it heard the patter of frantic feet running nearer and nearer. Suddenly a man stubbled off the high pass, careening over the droid's head, and landing face forward into the sludge covered ground.
The man got onto all fours, breathing heavily, he looked back, looking up at the walkway as the noise of pursuers clamered throught the streets. He glanced down noticing the droid, who's eyes flickered brighter at the sight of the man, and it began to jerk slightly as it tried to move.
The man's eyes grew wide as he seemed to recognise the droid, but his mouth was pursed tightly closed. The man got up, sprinting away at high speed, as two figures jumped down into the scrapyard after him, but eventually stopped. They turned around, laughing to eachother, they were young boys, no older than thirteen, one twilek, one zabrak, and they acted, and dressed like thugs.
The boys turned around, spotting the droid, laughing, they picked up pieces of metal, and began throwing them at the droid.
"Looks like a newcomer," one jeered. The droid twitched slightly, the boys faces growing serious for a moment, then sinical smiles spread across their faces.
They approached, snickering they spoke in cocky, and sarcastic tones, "hey there buddy, would you like a fix up?"
They laughed, kicking at it, they mocked, "too bad you aren't gettin' fixed, you're gonna be here awhile."
The kids burst out laughing, as if torturing the droid were the biggest thing since the holonet. But their laughter was cut short at the eyes of the droid suddenly flared up, taking on a new light. It twitched once, then it's arm shot out, snatching one of the boys by the throut.
It began moving, pushing itself up, it got on it's legs, towering over the second boy, the first dangling in it's grasp. It's body almost seemed to expand, and widen as the plates pushedapart, the rusty flecks flaking off as they seemed to be unattached.
With it's free hand it grabbed it's wet, sludge covered face, wiping the grime off, revealing a helmeted head with two small but dark horns, it's green eyes glaring at them darkly.
It looked at the boy it held, tears in his eyes as he wimped in the 'droid's hand.
"Where is that man headed?" Came am extremely heavy, and raspy voice.
The first boy gurgled, clutching at his neck, the second one, wide eyed, mouth open, and frozen in fear, barely responded in a stuttering voice, "h-h-h-he, l-looks, like h-h-he's headed t-t-t-to, the...c-c-c-c-cantinas."
At this the huge and looming figure, that was often mistaken for a large human, headed in the general direction of the cantinas, dropping the boy first, the two children ran faster than they had ever run before.
Daven had stpped back and had half unsheathed his sword, which was weaved with cortosis.
"I am Davendithas Loyalar, and we mean no harm, you crashed and were knocked unconscious, so we tried to revive you."
Revan shook his head, trying to clear his vision, as the Force alerted him to a familiar presence approaching. One of the many ships zooming around overhead had detached from the main traffic, and was on a course straight for the landing pad. The vessel registered with his memory instantly.
Revan narrowed his eyes. The last time he had felt that presence, it had not been a happy parting.
Turning back to the two men, he deactivated his lightsaber and attatched it to his belt. "I'm apologise," he said. "I forgot myself. Now, if you'll excuse me, I really must be-"
He was cut off as the ship's landing struts were released with a screech of metal on metal. The docking ramp was already half open as it touched down. Revan lifted the hood of his robes over his head, casting his face into shadow.
For a moment, Raquel watched as the stranger departed. Then, she turned to the Doctor and remarked coldly, "If you want to be inconspicuous, you'd better get back inside that little box of yours and wait this out..."
The Doctor scowled at her. "Nah, where'd the fun in that be?"
Raquel rolled her eyes. "You have an incredibly odd sense of 'fun'," she said. "You're half-collapsing every ten paces and you say it's 'fun'." She arched an eyebrow curiously. "Any other oddities about you I ought to keep my eyes open for?"
"That's the thing!" said the man, positively beaming. "I don't know! I literally have no idea who I am, or what I'm like!"
"Fantastic," Raquel muttered. "Positively fantastic." With an almost mocking smile, she held out her hand, "Want to go try and figure it out over a drink or something to eat?"
The man seemed to take great entertainment in her words. "Fantastic!" he said. "Fan-taz-tix. Fan-tas-teek!"
"Oh, just come on," Raquel growled, reaching out and pulling him along toward the cantina she'd just recently left. As she entered, she found herself confronted by the human and his two Rodian thugs that she'd turned down earlier.
"Going somewhere?" the Human sneered. Then, he saw the Doctor. "And who's this? You need hired muscle?"
The Doctor laughed again. "Muscle?" he asked, pulling up the arm of his new/old jacket. "You won't find any here. Not this time!"
"He's no one," Raquel answered quickly. "And if you're looking for muscle, you'd best be leaving before it finds you in the form of me!"
The Human laughed and reached forward to grab her. With a quick twist, she swung around, her right leg knocking the Human's neck, and propelling him to the ground.
"Warned you," she said softly. "Now get out."
Frantically, the Human and his thugs departed. Raquel directed the Doctor to a small, corner table.
The Doctor shook his head. "All you humans are the same..." he muttered sadly. "All kicks, and punches, and fighting..."
Raquel glared at him, but said nothing. The Doctor looked around the room excitedly for a moment, then closed his eyes and grimaced as a stabbing pain seared at his temples again. "Way did you say your name was?" he asked, trying to distract her.
"I didn't," Raquel answered sharply. Then, she sighed, knowing it wouldn't take him long to ask her for it. "Raquel Annerire."
The man beamed again, reaching out to shake her hand. "Nice to meet you, Raquel Annerire. I'm the Doctor."
The man from earlier ran into the cantina, frantically looking around, he found a booth table that was in a inconspicuous spot, and had a lot of congragators around it at the other tables, which kept it out of immediate sight.
He sat, calming his breathing, he tugged at the collar of his shirt. He raised his hand calling for a drink, when he noticed that no one was following him he seemed to calm down.
Scud's heavy steps thudded to a stop outside the cantina, he looked up at the sign, then back to the door, the noise of laughter, talking and breaking glasses permeating from the building.
He stepped inside, ducking down to get through the small doorframe. He looked around, then walked through the cantina slowly.
The man slunk down in his seat at the sight of Scud, his heart skipped a beat at seeing him.
As if Scud had detected this, he twisted around on a dime, staring straight at the man, trying to hide in his seat. The man's eyes went wide, he frantically tried getting up, but Scud was at the table before he could get himself unglued from the seat.
Scud sat opposite of the man, the seat growning under Scud's weight. The man gave a nervous smile, then spoke in a cracked voice, "h-hello, Sc-Sc..."
But the man was cut short by Scud placing his hand on the table, his fingures tensing, then relaxing, then tensing again, and then relaxing again. This obviously meant something, because the man was staring at the hand intently, and he had shut up pretty quickly.
"T-that's right, you d-don't like your name sp-sp-spoken in public...by your targets," the man said nervously, whispering at the last comment.
"Dead or alive Mr. Worren?" came Scud's deep, raspy voice, causing the man to flitch at the sound.
The man seemed to calm down at this, thinking over what Scud had asked.
"I've run for so long, my life has gone to the rats....Death is better than torture at...his hands....and I've been too afraid to kill myself," Mr. Worren said to Scud, and Scud could already understand where this was going, and what the answer would be.
"Finish your drink Mr. Worren," Scud told him, leaning back, folding his arms across his chest, waiting for him to finish.
Mr. Worren smiled a weak smile, he finished his drink, then sighed. "I know you don't use blasters, so use this," he siad, pulling out a small blaster from his boot, and handing it to Scud.
Scud got up, then Mr. Worren, they headed outside. Mr. Worren faced away from Scud, closing his eyes, Scud held the tiny blaster in his huge hands, they couldn't be seen outside the cantina, except for the tinted window, though no one could see out from them.
A blaster shot rang out, the silhuete of Scud holding the blaster, and Mr. Worren's falling form could be seen through the tinted window from inside the cantina.
Soon Scud came back inside, he no longer held the blaster. He went back to the booth table Mr. Worren had been at, and sat down, leaning back, he observed the people in the cantina.
Daven had sheathed his sword by this point, but he still was at full alert. He noticed the mans reclusiveness as the new ship landed. If there was going to be a fight, Daven would be there to do as much as he could to prevent bloodshed.
"Is it just me," Drake said, cocking his head to the left, "Or is this getting kind of weird?" He looked to Daven, who shrugged and said nothing.
Kira forced herself to keep a calm control on her emotions as the loading ramp hissed, the hydrolics lowering it to the dock below. She waited for it to touch the ground, her hands folded patiently behind her back in an almost military fashion. She had placed her cloak around her shoulders, the brown folds hiding the lightsaber that was clipped at her thigh.
Descending to the deck, she took in the scene. There were three men - two who looked totally bewildered at everything that had just happened, and one who seemed to barely be able to stay standing. The two bewildered ones were most likely passer-byes. It was the apparently weak one that caught her attention.
"'Evening, gentlemen." she said, her eyes flitting casually from one to the next.
"Evening M'lady." Daven said with a small bow. "I am Davendithas Loyalar, I introduce myself because I have sense that us being here isn't by chance or consequence."
"Drake Incik. I, uh, dragged your friend from the wreckage," he said, giving a sheepish smile.
Revan retreated behind the other two men slowly, moving around them towards the ship that the woman had come out of. There was a group of people at the top of the ramp, looking down upon the woman, but he ignored them.
He turned back to the woman, and watched as one of men bowed to the new arrival, introducing himself. Revan stared at the back of the woman's head, hardly believing his eyes. She was here. After all these years... how he had missed her...
"Kira..." he said slowly, loud enough for her to hear him.
Visas observed the sight, the shape she could see that was soo bright and with an ever changing presence came from Revan. It was as if the power he had almost burst out of his body where as the exile seemed to absorve power. Maybe that was what Traya spoke of, the exile being a wound in the force trying to heal itself.
She did not speak, she merely observed and concentrated on the situation at hand, if there was to be any trouble she would be prepared for it. She was ever ready to sacrifice herself to save the exile if it was needed, that was how far her loyalty reached.
((Sorry it's taken me so long to post, guys. I've had a bit of a busy week :xp: ))
Kira nodded at the two men as they introduced themselves, her blue eyes studying and watching both of them.
"It's a pleasure to meet you," she said, "I'm Kira Starr. The others are my companions: Atton Rand and Visas Marr."
The sound of the voice sent a shiver up her spine, causing her heart to skip a beat. She knew that voice. She had been right - she hadn't mistaken the presence. Not that she ever could...but it was almost...too good to be true...
She turned to look at the dark shadow of the cloaked man, her face seeming to be unsure of what emotion to display first and as she spoke the name, her voice was weak.
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