last_kallig | OOM: In the Hall of Traitors, Part 2

Garyn affixes his own helmet and nods, his face stern and determined. His armor is stainless durasteel with a matte grey finish, polished, but with no shine. He looks every bit the hard man, the hired muscle that he is meant to be. It is an easy role for him to play.

And then he casts his eyes upon the city itself - spires upon spires, towers upon Towers, as though someone had stacked White-Gold atop Ada-Mantia and built them all again a thousand times. He cannot see the bottom.

Well. So much for acting like I belong.

"B'vek..."

Edited 2014-08-15 17:37 (UTC)

"The Citadel was designed to impress," Ibani replies, tone dry. Because that one building emblazoned with the red Imperial insignia was what Garyn was surprised by and not everything. (If anyone buys that, there's this spaceport Ibani would like to sell them.)

Luckily, there's something to distract Garyn from the sight of the city. Unluckily, that something is Khem Val. The Dashade looks even larger in person, a wall of muscle and predatory intent. The talons on his hands could easily disembowel a man and the blade on his back is large enough that even Khem must use both hands to wield it.

It would be easy to write Khem Val off as dumb muscle, but there is a look of keen intelligence in Khem's eyes as he looks at Garyn. The gaze of a warrior assessing another warrior's strength, how easy he would be to kill, how he is likely to respond to a threat, whether he is predator or prey. Khem is....not impressed by what he sees in Garyn. Khem Val snorts disdainfully and turns his gaze to Ibani.

"It is weak, my Master" the Dashade sneers. For all that Garyn's ears have never heard the words before, the syllables are no more mysterious to him than Ta'agra thanks to his being 'given' the language by Ibani. "What can it do that I, the Devourer of the Dromund System, cannot?"

Edited 2014-08-15 18:20 (UTC)

Garyn swivels his head and narrows his eyes at the beast. This much he has been prepared for - he has seen the hologram. His response he is even more prepared for. A test of nerve, to see if he flinches.

He does not.

"Oh, I shan't tell you that. But here's a hint: it involves one or three things you lack."

For a second, Khem Val looks surprised at Garyn's response. Not many speak Sith these days, and the language is almost unknown among non Force-sensitives.

Khem Val looms over Garyn, his fists flexing. "If you were not useful to my Master's plans I would tear you apart for your disrespect," he growls. "Fail in your duty and you will be the second one I devour when I am free."

Garyn's gaze lifts to meet the eyes of this walking mountain. Otherwise he remains unmoved.

"If you get free," he says, "it will not be on my account."

The beast terrifies him, of course. One would have to be a fool or a madman not to feel the wrath of Molag from every inch of him. But Garyn has fought werewolves and vampires. He has seen monsters, faced them and killed them, and is practiced in not allowing them to see his fear.

Khem Val gives a skeptical snort at Garyn's response, but he ceases looming over him.

"We should be about our business. I can't be certain how long it will take to reach the inner chamber of the Temple, and I have no desire to be roaming around its grounds at night," Ibani tells them.

Khem moves away from Garyn to stand by his Master, seemingly content to ignore Garyn's existence for now.

It won't be a very long trip on foot along the sky-ways that weave between towers before they reach an air taxi cab station. There's a small crowd here even at this hour, but they're given plenty of personal space. (No one, not even the very, very drunk, wants to get near Khem Val.)

Ibani approaches one of the droids manning the air cars waiting for passengers and the mechanical construct greets her with a synthesized voice and a salute. "My Lord, how may I serve you?"

"We wish passage to the edge of the city nearest the Dark Temple."

"Of course, my Lord." The droid moves aside and gestures to the aircar.

Garyn spends the brief journey over the catwalks and canopies trying his level best not to stare gormlessly. Ibani had warned him, but she could not possibly have prepared him for his first sight of this impossible expanse of gods-even-know-what-kind-of-metal. Horseless chariots soar and whizz overhead. Beings of races he cannot identify mill about on the corners of metallic streets. It is an endless forest of things that cannot be, extending as far as the eye can see and as far as the body can plummet.

Khem Val had been a welcome distraction, if anything. Garyn knows how to deal with monsters and muscle. Here it takes all his effort just to keep his neck rigid and his eyes in front of him.

He nods politely at the metal thing that has just spoken to them. It looks like a rendering of the old Dwemer constructs that he would see in books as a child.

With only a moment's hesitation, he follows Ibani onto the aircar.

Edited 2014-08-16 04:27 (UTC)

Ibani has to repress the urge to take his hand as she feels his discomfort and disorientation. But for his sake and for hers she must appear detached, indifferent.

The merciful thing about travel by air taxi is that it is swift. The awful part is that it is much, much faster than Garyn's likely used to going. Kaas City passes under the taxi as it flies through the air, ribbons of light forming as their speed blurs individual lights into a continuous thread. That might be a plus, as it makes it harder to tell just how little is under them and how very far away it is.

As they approach the edge of the city, there is green in the distance. The green of jungles and growing things. By the time the air-taxi lands, what spreads out before them is mercifully flat and lacking in towers. There are a few metal warehouses, a metal bridge, and beyond that there is nothing at all visible to the eye but jungle and rock cliffs where a road has been cut through the wilderness.

Garyn can now see nothing of the city around him. He had shut his eyes within seconds of the aircar taking off on its nauseatingly swift trajectory across Kaas City. The lights and sounds had swirled into an in inchoate blob of color and motion and...

He shuts his eyes harder, trying to ignore his headache. This ride feels like a lot longer than it is.

Traveling by silt strider had been disorienting enough - it's hard to get past the fact you're inside a hollowed-out insect. But at least the ride was smooth. And conducted at a more-or-less sane pace.

As the car slows to a stop, Garyn doubles over and hangs his head over the side. His face is pale, nearly green. He looks as though he is about to vomit.

Ibani's presence brushes across his mind, sending feelings of question and concern. Does he want her help with the nausea and the headache?

If he assents to her intervention the headache and nausea will fade, hopefully BEFORE he vomits. It's tricky, working a healing without touch, but there is a facade that she must maintain.

A soldier in the gray imperial uniform comes out of one of the warehouses to see who's arrived and snaps to attention and salutes when he sees Ibani. "My Lord," he says respectfully to her. Not that different from how people react to nobles in Garyn's own world.

Ibani nods in acknowledgment. "Lieutenant. Are you aware of the situation in the area near the Dark Temple?"

"Yes, my Lord. An entire work gang of slaves was lost when the spirits became restless and took their bodies, as were most of the guards that were stationed with them." Despite attempting to appear calm and collected, the Lieutenant becomes visibly uneasy as his recounting continues. Being shot at is one thing, being possessed is quite another! "Several Sith have also been taken and are presently causing considerable problems for the reinforcements sent to hold the area."

"That complicates things," Ibani replies, thinking. "Thank you for the briefing, Lieutenant. I shall not keep you from your duties."

Edited 2014-08-18 21:16 (UTC)

Garyn's assent to aid is so swift it's nearly below the level of thought. He breathes deeply and spits over the side of the aircar. Then he spits again. Finally, he rights himself and joins Ibani in a suitably subservient position behind her.

He doesn't exactly look happy, but at least he didn't mess his new armor. It wouldn't do to show that kind of weakness in front of Khem Val.

Ibani is relieved that she was able to help him in time, though that doesn't show in her body language. That would be considered weakness, and she can't afford to be seen as weak.

"We'll be on foot from here on out, it's a few miles through the jungle to the Temple."

The plants in the jungle are not ones Garyn knows, but it is a natural landscape and not a bizarre metal cityscape. Dirt, plants, animal sounds and the dim light of the rising sun through the heavy storm clouds above.

The power of the Dark side grows as they approach the Temple, heavy and thick to Ibani's senses. The area around the temple is in twilight even though it is a scant few hours past dawn. That alone would be enough to provoke a sense of unease, but then the voices start....

Whispered threats and promises in many different voices begin to arrive in his head without bothering to pass through his ears. Ibani's power protects Garyn from being possessed by the ghosts, but it isn't keeping him from hearing them.

It is fortunate for Garyn that his dizziness had subsided, for his head is now buzzing with unsettling noise. The voices of lost spirits swirl around him and through him. They speak to no one in particular - they sweep across this tangled wood like a swirling breeze through a canyon. They fade in and out of hearing, one voice flowing into another, as though all spirits are one here.

is this where, Where am I - it hurts - my own saber, my apprentice you have finally learned --- please, let me die and from here to Shola, wherever you may go there shall be no escape for you, your followers, and when I strike you down I shall roast your entrails and serve them to my it approaches such pain do you remember Malachor for I do what species is this will the Force not permit me to perish it is new my saber where is it it never leaves my side where is it new meat, this Sith cannot protect you forever

The closer to the Dark Temple they get, the more voices begin to notice them. He does nothing, he says nothing. He cannot afford to show weakness either.

Edited 2014-08-20 03:37 (UTC)

Ibani pauses in mid stride, her hand going to her lightsaber. "Trouble headed our way," she says, glancing toward the Temple. "Sith, three of them."

Khem Val looks rather pleased at her announcement. "Let them come. I shall tear out their hearts and feed on their power!"

Sure enough, a mere minute or so later a large, armored figure appears on top of the low cliff that marks a bend in the path to the Temple. The red blade of his lightsaber comes to life as he stands, looking down at them. An ordinary soldier armed only with a sword wouldn't be able to reach Garyn from where he is, not without taking the long way down the cliff and charging toward them across the open ground afterward. But the Sith play by a different set of rules.

The Sith makes a tremendous, inhuman, leap off the cliff, arcing toward the ground to land with a teeth rattling impact right in front of Garyn. The Sith's grin is cruel and ferocious as he brings the red blade of his lightsaber down toward Garyn's neck a mere moment after his landing.

Edited 2014-08-20 04:06 (UTC)

And there is the Sith's first mistake - assuming that Garyn will be intimidated. Never enjoy it until it's over is a lesson he's learned the hard way through years of training. He can assess this young one already - arrogant, undisciplined, no doubt reliant on his Force abilities.

Suddenly the voices don't matter, the city doesn't matter, every impossible thing he has seen today doesn't matter. He is in combat. This is what he was born to do. He's drawn Ibani's warblade before the Sith has even reached the crest of his leap.

As the Sith's red saber hisses its challenge, Garyn's sword roars its own answer back. And the battle begins.

As Garyn's battle begins, the other two Sith enter the fray, force lightning crackling through the air. Ibani and Khem Val take one each, keeping the enemy from ganging up on any one of their group.

The signs of Dark side corruption are heavy on the human's face, his irises a sulfurous yellow and the blood vessels around his eyes heavily dilated. He roars in rage as Garyn blocks his blow, the bellow carrying enough Force pressure to make those in its path dizzy, disoriented.

That's two Force abilities in as many exchanges of blows, it seems he's read his foe aright.

Garyn has fought battlemages and spellswords before. He knows to expect their tricks and attacks. He even brought a few potions with warding effects - though he had no time to use them here.

More importantly, he's been in enough alehouse confrontations to know how to fight when you're dazed and blurried. "Aim for the one in the middle" usually works. This time he's able to block the one in the middle.

But he's not going to be able to hold off a Sith for long while he's dizzy and half-blind. He could use a diversion right about now.

His foot finds one. In an instant, he scoops a small, jagged stone with the side of his boot and sends it rocketing at his assailant's smirking face.

Edited 2014-08-21 03:54 (UTC)

The dizziness and half-blindness begins to fade as Garyn finds the rock with his boot. The technique is only meant for a few moments of disorientation and those are passing quickly.

Sensing the incoming stone, the Sith instinctively twists away from the missile just in time to avoid a rock to the face. But the dodge puts him off balance, especially when one foot slides a bit on some loose scree. A blow in the right place at that moment could open up all kinds of opportunities....

Garyn was never about to leave it at that. Before he even perceives his weakness, his leg is sweeping again, sprung with momentum from the initial impulse that sent the projectile his way to begin with. As his vision clears, his torso lowers. He knows just where to hit him.

His durasteel-toed boot connects with the Sith's knees and keeps going, dropping him to the unstable ground beneath him.

There is a flicker of surprise on the Sith's face as his legs are swept out from under him and he's sent to the ground. His problems only worsen as the impact jars his lightsaber from his hand and the red blade flickers out.

He won't be without it long though, Garyn had best act quickly.

Garyn takes a long, lunging stride and stomps hard on the Sith's wrist, keeping it pinned between stone and durasteel.

He lifts his blade, primed to thrust it downward toward the Sith's heart.

Edited 2014-08-22 04:16 (UTC)

Up until he was sent sprawling onto the ground, the Sith wasn't taking this fight seriously, not really. One mere soldier couldn't be a real threat to a Sith!

He's definitely taking Garyn seriously NOW. The Sith reaches out with the Force for his lightsaber as Garyn pins his wrist. A touch of power presses the activation button and brings the blade back to life. Another pull sends the blade flying at Garyn in a deadly arc.

Even a mercenary from another universe can recognize that distinctive hiss-and-buzz of a lightsaber being activated. Before he can even vocalize it, Garyn realizes what the Sith is doing.

Telekinesis.

He falls flat to the ground, hands-first, and begins to roll out of the way. It's a desperate move, he knows it. It surely wouldn't be enough. The impact comes. There's a brief sizzle of plasma-on-durasteel. Garyn closes his eyes. But he feels nothing.

A glancing blow. The armor had done its job.

Garyn pulls up from a crouch and turns to face his foe. He had lost the initiative, but retained his sword. The Sith rises, grimacing, his saber in hand.

Then his leg buckles, and he falls to one knee. He had torn a ligament in the fall!

Garyn charges, seeing now his opportunity. With a mighty blow he sends the Sith sprawling onto his back once more.

Even on his back, the Sith has his lighsaber in one hand and ready to defend himself.

His other hand is pointed toward Garyn, palm out. Rage, hate, fear and pain are all excellent fuel for the Dark side, and for force lightning. There is a faint smell of ozone in the air an instant before blue lightning arcs out at Garyn, writhing almost as if alive.

Edited 2014-08-24 17:43 (UTC)

The lightning lances around and through Garyn, the polymer padding beneath his armor providing only the most basic protection against the searing electricity coursing through his bones. It is agony to even stand. He grits his teeth and growls like a cornered werewolf as the Sith parries his repeated strikes. But he has borne worse. He will die if he does not bear this.

He grinds his boot on the Sith's ruined knee. His enemy howls in unrelenting pain. The lightning intensifies, striking out at every living plant, animal, or microbe within five meters. But there is no focus to his attack now - a diffuse emanation of incoherent rage, directed at everything and nothing. It's more painful. But it hurts him less.

The Sith's hands are spread wide. He has dropped his guard. Mustering all his strength, Garyn plunges his sword into the Sith's chest, stabbing again and again and again, time after time until finally, the lightning ceases.

The Sith's eyes stare blankly up at Garyn. But the fury is gone, and the spark has left him.

Garyn stays on his knees and fumbles around his belt for a healing potion. The miasma of ozone hangs in the air, and he can smell something cooking.

Edited 2014-08-25 03:22 (UTC)

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