Space Patrol : Part 90 - Once More Unto the Breach

[Master_Cameo_Naton]

Welcome to Space Patrol, the longest running thread on any of the Star Wars Galaxies roleplaying boards.

The Obligatory Last 3 IC Posts...

Cameo sighed and sat back down. Didn't look like he was going anywhere soon. "I'm always ready to listen, Litan. That's what I'm here for." He gestured to one of the other open chairs in the galley. Between him, Silver, and Lits, the room was starting to fill up. He hoped Rik didn't get hungry for a snack. But this was serious. He'd just been joking with Litan about Venix. He thought she was gone for good... But judging by Litan's reaction, appearances had been deceiving.

"So..." Cameo said. "Tell me about Venix."

(ooc : Sorry this is a short one, but not much to go off of. I'm having a very dull weekend.)

ooc: much apologies for the lack of posting...I've been busy with work...work is fun, Yay....I hate holidays now.......

Ic: Silver looked at the former spy as the human so casually joked about his death....It took the noghri a few minutes to remember that Litan never trusted anyone hardly, and they had never really had much contact with each other. "I will listen. I do not know how I may be of any use, but I will listen." Silverwuulf all but bit out the words. "Funny how I have problems with certain things now, but I have to protect myself from the force." The noghri thought to himself. He had never been an exceptionaly powerful jedi, and was no match, if he was honest with himself, for Cameo or Cecil. But now however, Litan Adats was thinking just a little too loud. In fact, Everyone was, and Silver was thankful to be near Cameo, for the simple and quiet mind that was the man.



++++++++++++++++++
Elsewhere:

""Why are we going to Nar Shadda?" Demitria asked as she struggled to work on the finicky hyperdrive, cursing Melissa for stealing their mechanic and navigator, as Veruka tried to help.

"Because he was there. I can feel it." The sith snapped as the other woman's voice broke her concetration as she attempted to trace an electrical line through the cooling system components. "Now shut up and focus on the task at hand so we don't blow ourselves up. Frell the idiot that decided to rewire this thing with only one color wires."

"That would be how they are made." Demitria muttered under her breath.....

Ooc: I was hit by a priest would you believe.
Would have been handy if he’d killed me you know, could have performed the last rights on the spot… maybe not that handy since I’m not a catholic, but hey, I’m flexible, I can convert.
Anyway, as I’ve forgotten what I was going to do, so I guess I’ll just pull something out of my hat…

IC:

“Early last year I tracked her down… aboard the wreck of the Ardra would you believe, life’s full of these little coincidences, anyway, she was in mothball in then upper atmosphere of some Gas Giant. Verlin had already gone after her without me, I was going spare I… well lets not mince words I stole an X-wing and blasted my way in. Took down a half squadron of ties and crashed the ship into the barracks where she had her troops stationed.”
“Big boom?” Asked Cameo.
“Big boom.” Litan confirmed. “Eventually I got to Verlin, she’d already been beaten half to death by her, I carried her half the way to the shuttlebay where she’d docked her own ship, on the way out I disabled the Ardra’s engines, sent it sliding into the Gas giant, thought if that didn’t kill Venix nothing would but…”
“But what?”
“She was waiting just in front of the docking bay. I held her off while Verlin ran for a ship, we scuffled, I stabbed her, I almost died… by then me Venix and V were the only ones left aboard the Ardra, Verlin was in a Ysalamiri shielded shuttle, when her body died I was the only host she could find.”
“So… you’re Venix now?”
Litan glared at the Noghri. “Yes and this all a clever ruse to destroy Cam.” The level of implicit sarcasm was so thick it was practically solid. “Verlin saved me, she dragged into the ship so that Venix couldn’t use the force to rip my mind apart… she knew she couldn’t go in and save me ‘cos despite popular belief my heads not big enough for three.”
“Could have fooled me.” Murmured the Noghri, Cam elbowed him and Litan ignored him.
“Without the force it was simply a battle of wills.” The spy continued.
“Wait,” Silverwuulf interjected again. “Venix was a blond was she not?”
“Yes, why.”
“Then that will explain how you won.”
“I killed her… no I didn’t just kill her I erased her, completely, she’s gone. I mean we’ve all killed before, I’m a trained assassin, murders what I’m trained for… this was different though. I felt her slip away into oblivion.”
“And this is bad because?”
“Because a part of me went with her!” Litan suddenly burst out, before he realised he was on his feet, “Her last gift… I-I c-c-can’t seem to feel anything, I… I kiss my wife, nothing, I hold my children. Nothing. She took something with her, something I cannot get back. I couldn’t tell V about this… how would she feel if I told her I didn’t love her anymore? I felt what it’s like to die, and part of me did die… I think her idea was to make my life not worth living. One final victory or something get me to kill myself, or waste my life or something, maybe drag Verlin down with me I don’t know. All I know is I can’t let her win. Cos if I do… I’ll die.”

And let the IC continue...

[High Moff Betts]

ooc: Do we have to?
[yes!]
Oh...why?
[Well... we do.]
Why.
[Well...becuase...]
becuase what?
[Becuase we do.]
Why?
[Oh frak off!]

[Master_Cameo_Naton]

(ooc : We have to. Because it's here. Like the mountain. We must climb it. Or waste our time with mindless OOC. Like I'm doing now. Oh, and on a side note, if anyone has a better title for this part, we can change it. We have L33T |\/|0D SK1LLz. And I shouldn't have drinken, dranken, drunk, whatever, that 2-liter of Vanilla Coke all at once. Needless to say, I get back on a plane in four hours time, and I'll be back to old Virginia Beach, and I'm flying first class. I would make that a longer run-on sentence, but I just don't have the heart. The english major in me, you know? It dies a little each time I post. And alas, my time is up. Must go pack, or else leave all my stuff here in Michigan. Which wouldn't be good. So, adieu... for now.)

[High Moff Betts]

ooc: How about we call the thread.

"Becuase it's there."

Incidentally, the mountain in question (Everest unless your quoting Kirk in ST:V) isn't there anymore, due to geologicle pressures it's now a couple of milimetres over there.

[Jolts]

OOC: Tommorow I shall post... I'm confident in it

[High Moff Betts]

OOc: Ok heres my idea...

Space Patrol: Part 90, Kill Cam

Sadow can unleash the deadly Venix Assassination squad. Pim can have his own Anime sequence in the middle, Garrett can dress up as Therman dressing up as Bruce Lee… we can generally rip of Sergio le-whats-his-name westerns…

Come on!



Well its either kill bill or Spiderman we're ripping off and the Baron aint dressing up as no Green Gobo.

[High Moff Betts]

OOc: Oh and I'll post 2m... who wants to lay odds on how long it is till i crack 'an bring Venix back?

[sidekick]

OOC: I would, but I know i wouldn't like those odds...

And Lits needs to get his feeling back from somewhere, right?

[JerinPuck]

ooc: *Ahem.*
Woozles.

Thank you, that is all.

[High Moff Betts]

ooc: This is me remember, Litan's probably a clone, Verlins really the Baron and my boxers are on back to front... that last is something completly unrelated to SP... or is it?

All shall be reviled.... er revealed, when i've worked out where i'm going with anything and have woken up. IC after i've sorted my book shelfs.

[High Moff Betts]

OOc: And before I forget, if someone puts up a "LItan's lost his mojo" related joke, sharks with lazer beams strapped to their heads will be the least of his/her worries.

[Heathro]

OOC: Is it just me, or did anyone else notice a high percentage of SPers, past and present, have this strange habit of talking with themselves?.. *pets wuulfy*

[High Moff Betts]

ooc: Yes I had... hadn' I? yes I had.

[Master_Cameo_Naton]

Cameo blinked. It wasn't really all that necessary. His blind eyes were always staring blankly forward, so blinking didn't really do a bit of good, aside from keeping them moist. But what Litan had just told him took him aback.

"You actually felt a piece of yourself go with Venix..." Cameo mused softly, racking his brain for any memory of a similar situation. His mind went over Rahj, giving his body to Kuun Deasa... Healing his own wife, Marle, after Gargolus had severed her connection between body and soul. Silver, and his strange brain-freeze, forgetting who he was, what he had done. Even Kelsey, Cecil's wife, a Jedi of the past whose soul had been entrapped, and finally freed to take the body she now bore. Unfortunately, all of those were the results, and Cameo knew almost nothing of the situations leading up to those strange separations and unifications. He turned to face Litan. "I've... honestly never heard of anything like this." He frowned. He glanced at Silver. Silver shook his head before Cameo could even form a thought to ask him.

"Hrm." Litan was going to be non-verbal now. Cameo couldn't blame him. On one level, he could relate. In the weeks after Marle had died, Cameo had felt dead inside. It was only through the Force, and the help of his friends that he was able to move on. Now, everything he did was for Marle's memory. She was gone. But there were others who needed him now. Others like Litan.

Litan hadn't lost someone. He had lost a part of himself. The soul, the part that enjoys life, enjoys living. Cameo couldn't imagine not being able to find that, to no longer care about those who were important to him. And yet, Litan was still there. Part of Litan that made him who he was wanted the rest of himself back. Wanted things to be the way they were.

"I'm going to talk to Cecil, Litan. I don't know if he's going to be able to help, either, but we'll figure this out. One way or another." He put a hand on the Intel agents shoulder.

Litan smirked. "Wow. I've got the dynamic duo working on it. I feel better already."

Cameo smiled wryly. "First things first. Where did you kill Venix?" Cameo's plan to go after Exar Sadow might have to take a back seat for a while... But Cameo had a feeling, wherever they went, Sadow would be coming after them. Finding where Venix had met her terrible end, would probably lend at least some clues as to what happened to the other part of Litan.

[High Moff Betts]

Ic:
"First things first. Where did you kill Venix?"
“Ah. Now there’s the tricky part.” Began Litan, he knew what Cam meant and he knew it would be easier to bounce a supernova at lightspeed to get back there. He may not feel anything for these guys but he still knew what was right, he wouldn’t have these guys commit suicide for him.
“It was aboard the Ardra,” The spy continued. “Which has since been crushed to the size of a bake-bean can by the phenomenal pressures of the Gas giant I crashed it into -Junlok it was called- and it’s in the Thracia system… which is in the Braxil sector.”
“Oh…” said Cameo, comprehension dawning. “You mean?”
“It’s where Baron D’s main shipyard is located, the giant itself is where they mine the deuterium for the ships reactors and there’s about three dozen damaged and aged ships moffballed and hanging in low orbit there. If your thinking what I’m thinking your thinking. Don’t think it.

ooc: I'll try and post this evening, No, change that. I will post this evening.

[VegetaTheWhite]

D'Omic wandered the empty corridors of the Midnight Run, memories flooding back to him as he ran his fingertips along the corridor walls. People he hadn't thought about in years were suddenly remembered, things that had happened to him that he'd been trying to forget. He'd helped the crew of this ship save the galaxy at least once before, and now that he was back aboard it... something didn't feel right. It was like he didn't belong. These people, they had been living and working together for years, while D'Omic had gallavanted across the galaxy on some kind of second childhood, taking odd jobs and doing mercenary work. But it was that very kind of behavior that had landed him in the mess he was in anyway, running into Cam and the gang was probably the best thing that could have happened to him. With luck, he might even be able to get some training from one of the Jedi on the ship; he hadn't used his latent Force abilities in a long time, and the lack of practice was definitely showing.

In his wanderings he found himself in front of the door to the Run's galley, and he could hear voices from behind the door, including one that he didn't quite recogznie but thought was familiar. He frowned slightly, deciding whether or not to go in. He didn't want to interrupt anything important, but then again if Cameo and the others hadn't wanted him here, they wouldn't have invited him along in the first place. He stepped through the door and grinned slightly as the occupants turned to see who had come in. "I'm not interrupting anything am I?"

[High Moff Betts]

oocic: "Yes you are so frakk off!"

[VegetaTheWhite]

OOC: It's good to be loved.

[High Moff Betts]

IC:
Litan looked up and threw a glare at the man that said planner than basic that he bloody well was, not that it mattered.
“No, ‘course not we were just discussing old time, in-laws, that kind of thing. What do you want? Aside from oxygen, fast ships, money and women of course.”

[High Moff Betts]

ooc: And no, in asking the question "What do you want?" Veggie, Litan has not joined the Shadows.

[VegetaTheWhite]

"Food, actually," D'Omic said with more than a hint of sarcasm, "this is the galley right? Though if you'd prefer I leave I can come back later."

[Darksilverwuulf]

ooc: Look everyone, Its Jerin!

I got petted? Hiya Heathro.

Um, I'm bored? what was the plot again?

[Master_Cameo_Naton]

(ooc : I'll post sometime this weekend. Too tired right now. )

[Darksilverwuulf]

ooc: ordinarily I would post something...but I'm still sorta stuck. Oh yay! the joys of writing a character that has decided to be brooding and silent so he can contemplate his soul and all that dramatic crap......

When can I kill something?

[Master_Cameo_Naton]

Cameo shook his head and rose from the table. "No. I think we were just finishing," he told D'Omic. He shared a look with Litan, and gestured towards the seat he had just vacated. "Help yourself."

Cameo frowned, and headed for the crew quarters, where he guessed Cecil would be waiting. They had a lot to discuss, beginning with Jolturn's problem. Then, there was the development with Silverwuulf, though Cameo suspected that was handled as well as it could be for the time being. Silver's situation would be an ongoing development. Lastly, there was Litan's problem. The intel agent didn't seem to want to risk his friends lives going on some fool errand in Braxil Sector, but Cameo rated their chances as pretty good. Maybe better than their chances of tracking Exar Sadow down in the Unknown Regions.

He knocked on the door. "Cecil, you home?"

"Yeah," his friend said. "C'mon in."

Cameo walked in, and sat down on a bunk. He heaved a great sigh.

"So..." Cecil smiled wryly.

Cameo supressed a grimace. "What a day."

"Has it only been a day?"

Cameo smield. "Yeah."

Cecil nodded. "You got Marle's lightsaber back, I see..."

Cameo nodded, contemplating the extra lightsaber on his belt. He unhooked it, and studied it. It was the blade Marle had constructed after she returned from Gargolus. The same blade she had wielded through their courtship, and the few years of marriage. It was the same blade she had carried and used in her final battle... in her last moments of life. It had extinguished the same moment her life had.

Cameo opened his eyes. He hadn't even realized he'd closed them. He glanced at Cecil.

"Yeah. I got her lightsaber back."

Cecil nodded soberly. "What are you going to do?"

What a loaded question. It covered so many levels, and Cameo knew Cecil meant more than just what Cameo intended to do with the lightsaber. It was as though he'd gotten a piece of Marle back. Would it be enough to sate him, or would it merely spur him on to finish the job he had started - eliminating Exar Sadow as a threat from the galaxy.

"There were some fighting techniques the old Jedi Order used to teach," Cameo said. "Some of the members of the Council were actually Masters who used two lightsabers. I think I'm going to train to use both of them."

Cecil smiled. "It's a plan."

"Speaking of plans, I need your help. We've got quite a few things going on, and I don't want to bear the burden alone." Cameo knew he was kind of trying to duck responsibility, but he seriously needed Cecil's counsel. He had no idea where to progress from here. Maybe Cecil would be able to make sense of the situations, and point him in the right direction.

[High Moff Betts]

OOc: Tried playing Thief Deadly Shadoews today, was put off it when I realised the name of the main character is Garrett. I'll either post a large post later or two 2m. Depends how my day stacks up. I promise hower it will involves violence, sex, jungels and generally bettsyness... ok it probably wont involve sex. Sorry guys.

[xfiend1013]

OOC: Heh, Adam, now you're on to me. I've been a huge Thief fan since the first one came out oh-so-long ago. Too bad the new one's so PC-intensive, or I'd play it. Maybe it's time this old computer hound slowed down and bought himself an Xbox or something...

But to sate my desire to go out and buy a new PC (which I couldn't afford) I've been traveling, which is why I haven't posted in so long. I've been from Mississippi to Texas, New Mexico, Colorado, Kansas (where I saw the home of Bob Dole, the most boring town in the USA), Missouri, and several other states, places, and things. Took a few weeks of camping on hard rocks and eating food out of cans, but hey - that's a small price to pay for seeing a great big chunk of the continental US.

Now I'm back and my ability to post should resume - yet I'm not quite sure how long it's going to be before I've got a job and apartment with a net connection, which will seal the deal on my frequent postage.

Anyway. I read a bunch on the trip, and I think it's time for me to post. I mean, I've got things going on, right? There's an old guy on the ship, Garrett's been sold to a Hutt (I think...) and well, damnit, I miss posting...

That's why we climb this mountain! We're addicts! All of us! Filthy, hopeless addicts!

Sigh. Damn monkey on my keyboard...

IC in a moment, need to run and check a bunch of P.O. boxes... I believe that the Kansas police have my driver's license...

[Master_Cameo_Naton]

(ooc : I'll bet there's a story or two there, Xfiend. Might we hear how the Kansas police ended up with your license? )

[Jolts]

OOC: Hehe.. they've got your license? That's too bad man.

[xfiend1013]

OOC: Yes, Space Patrol, Part 90: "Once More to the Beach:" The zany tropical adventures of Garrett and Litan!

GGG: Say, Litan, we've been stranded on this tropical island for four months now. Want another fermented coconut drink? Banana? Monkey jerky?

LA: Shut up.

GGG: You're wearing a grass skirt. Again.

LA: My pants caught on fire in the wreck, remember?

GGG: I think Pantalones en fuego would make a great band name.

LA: Shut up.

***

IC:

Zimradam had been sitting in a remote corner of the Midnight Run, his legs crossed, his knees to the floor, his hands crossed over his lap. It was the classical meditation position he had learned, properly aligning his muscles and nerves to accentuate the strongest flow of the force through his body.

The room was darkened, yet not completely dark, and a small cube of incense was burning on one of Rikard's plates.

Zimradam pulled more of the force around him, slowly, feeling the building power above the spot directly between his eyes. This surging center of power was his third eye. Empowered by the force, it slowly revealed the invisible world around him - the force itself eventually becoming visible to him.

Had anyone been watching the old mystic meditate, they would have noticed that, as he meditated, he had begun to slowly rise up off the ground, his knees bending even further downward, touching the metal floor for many minutes more, until even the bizarre bend of his knees left the ground, leaving a wavering shadow underneath.

As soon as he had left the ground, the unmistakable image of a third, golden glowing eye seeped through the skin of his forehead and opened, casting a beam of bright white light onto the ceiling. Zimradam felt his self and ego slide slowly from his body and travel up the beam of light, passing easily though the floor, leaving his floating body behind.

Freed from the constraints of form and matter, he watched patiently as
Cameo and Litan discussed what had happened, as Litan described the events he felt himself there, light years away, back in time, on that gas giant, feeling the sickening parasitic symbiosis of the force that Venix had mastered.

Flashes of Silverwuulf's time beyond life came to him as his astral form brushed past that of the noghiri. He had heard those voices and seen some of those faces before, in his deepest meditations - could it be that they had come from death, from some afterlife? The fact that the noghiri had encountered them - it was a mystery for another time; he needed to know what was transpiring aboard the ship.

Again, he watched as Cameo and Cecil discussed their options, seeing Marle's lightsaber, he felt the ripples of the force imprinted upon it by the hands of so many jedi; some of their faces streamed in front of him - some were wise and serene, others were twisted in anger and the vitriol of the dark side. These were the faces that would lead him down the path of destiny he had percieved. The other things he had learned - Venix, Silverwuulf - all of it deserved another look, however.

The noghiri... He thought. Dangerous creature. Yet he had seen that which Zimradam had tried to reach before - the knowledge beyond life; and seemed to retain none of it. Perhaps such was impossible, the form and content of such knowledge might very well twist the mind and corrupt the very soul.

So Zimradam's form wafted up through the decks, finding the noghiri again. He brushed him again, this time forcefully enough to implant the image of the room in which Zimradam sat.

He waited, hoping that through this confrontation with whatever forces had used the noghiri, he could gain the wisdom he would need for the difficult battle ahead.

[JerinPuck]

ooc: Don't bother calling. Kansas is closed on Mondays.

[xfiend1013]

OOC: Well, the police ransacked and searched our car for drugs (they came up empty handed - we'd run out....) and locked my friend and I in the back seat of the cruiser while they did so. I happened to leave my license there on the back seat. We were pulled over twice in the same 30 mile stretch. I think that the Highway Patrolmen who pulled us over didn't want to have to search through the giant piles of luggage we had, so they simply had some jerkoff sherriff's deputy do the job a few miles down the road. Poor guy. It was 100 degrees and he was searching like mad for absolutely nothing.

Oh well.

IC:

Garrett woke up sprawled over a pile of rubbish, the metal corners jabbing him in all the most uncomfortable places. Slowly, he pulled himself to his feet, which shook as the husks, tools, and parts shifted underneath him. He was in some sort of garbage pile.

"Fix it!" A gammorean squealed in the porcine gammorean language. "Fix whatever you can!"

Garrett's heart dipped down past his stomach and went spelunking into the small intestine. Everything in the dark pit was smashed beyond recognition, and what wasn't broken was so old that "obsolete" didn't quite cover it.

The gammorean, however, looked about as bright as a blown bulb in a power outage. "You tell Hullax you can fix things, now I say you fix things!"

"None of this stuff is..." Garrett began, but a sharp electric jolt in the collar he was wearing bathed the dark room in an eeire white light. He staggered for a moment then fell, shaking, to the floor.

"You fix or you fry!" The green giant huffed, slamming a very heavy door behind him. The room was totally dark for a moment before a light on the wall flickered to life.

A workbench, complete with a wide variety of tools, sat under the light. Garrett struggled to his feet and looked up at the ceiling. Security cameras scanned slowly.

"With all this junk..." He thought. "There's no way I'll stay in here long..."

He picked up the round dome of a dismantled R2 unit. It was time to get to work...

[Darksilverwuulf]

ooc: YAY! I have windows once more! also, I will be moving soon (again) Also, went to see chronicles of Riddick...awesome movie....although, with the eye thing, it sorta reminded me of Dune.


ic: (yes, an actual ic)

As he saw that he wasn't needed, or wanted, anymore, Silverwuulf slipped out of the Galley and went to the small hangar aboard the Run. He had realised, after Litan's story, that he hadn't slept in almost three days, and it, along with his refound powers and memories, were taking a toll on him. Curling up behind some crates, the noghri fell asleep almost instantly, unconciously clutching the lightsaber he had stolen off of his first victim in the fight against the dark jedi....

As he slept, he dreamed of things he remembered. He cherished the memories, and more than once, almost woke up due to his mind starting to take control of the dreams. after a while though, his sleep was undisturbed by dreams.........then came the voices:

"You'll just become the same thing you were when you died the first time scum."

"It was pointless to die for that space trash in the first place, do you even think that sith bitch loved you?"

"You betrayed your closest friends, do you really trust the man whose wife you helped kill?"

"You killed your best friend to live. What makes you think you deserve this second chance?"

"You'll never be redeemed. No one wants you now, not even the afterlife."


If anyone had walked into the hangar, they would have heard the strange sound of Silverwuulf whimpering and sobbing in his sleep.....

[xfiend1013]

IC:

Zimradam still floated mere centimeters above the floor, his knees dangling down, his tattered brown robe occassionally brushing the cool metal floor.

In the hangar, Silverwuulf slept, and the force fed him dreams, visions that his wanting mind devoured like a starving animal. Voices came to him through the ether.

In an instant, Zimradam was there, an astral projection embodied in the force, floating in the ethereal link between Silverwuulfs mind and the strength of the force that brushed against his ego.

Tendrils - dark, oily things, snaked through the air, coiling and uncoiling as Zimradam hovered through them. They were the effect, the phenomenon caused by the flow of the force into the unconscious mind of the noghiri.

"Where are these voices coming from, Silver?" Zimradam asked the mind. Feline images - predatory reflexes and visions - pummeled his mind for a moment, opening the old man to the perceptions of this... hunter...

A place beyond time and place... Neither here nor there nor anywhere. Not with the force, but not beyond the force...

It was Silverwuulf's voice, his mind that seemed to speak to Zimradam - but were they his words? The place he was in seemed treacherous, devious, the scenery shifted constantly from jungle to space station to cramped quarters and then, always, shifting to an incredible void, a place out of space, out of time.

Voices came, some cold and malicious, some warm and nurturing, some sharp and full of fire. Some repeated spiteful mantras, chanting.

Scum! Betrayer! Hated one! Murderer!

Murderer. Murderer. Murderer. As all the other words were lost to the incalculable size of the void, murderer echoed again and again, ringinging and growing with every repetition.

The voices started back again, bombarding Zimradams senses as the most painful memories of the noghiri flooded his mind. Death. Betrayal. Hate. Malice. And again, murder. Murder, murder, murder.

To stay alone in this place was to risk madness. Zimradam shouted arcane words and invoked the powers of long-dead jedi masters just to block the memories. For a moment, it worked. The dark tendrils of the force that had been feeding Silverwuulf recoiled in agony, sprawling away from the old bearded man as he pointed his staff in their direction.

"Silverwuulf!" He cried out in the mind of the noghiri. "Come here, Silverwuulf! Who torments your mind!?"

He started a slow chant, an old and forgotten ritual designed to bring the unconscious noghiri into his own mental world. If Silverwuulf chose to participate, the two could travel through the void and confront the noghiri's past. If the hunter chose to stay asleep, however, Zimradam would have only a few precious moments to escape the potential astral prison, which would lock his mind away in this horrific place beyond death - perhaps for all eternity...

[xfiend1013]

OOC: I do hope you'll play with me, Silver. I'm bored...

IC:

Garrett sighed and clicked the holograph transmitter in place atop the stocky remnants of the R2 unit's dome. Everything was in place - and in only two hours. He chuckled to himself as he looked at the jury-rigged holonet transmitter he'd managed to hobble together.

In a few minutes, the dim-witted gammorean guard would return, slinging the heavy metal door open. Moments before that, the holo would spring to life, creating a convincing image of Garrett slaving away at the workbench - while the real (so far as he knew, anyway) Garrett was hidden in a compartment made of rubble near the door. He'd kept the whole thing hidden from the security cameras by simply appearing to be doing what he was supposed to. The compartment was conviently located in the one place in the room not covered by the cameras.

Garrett tucked himself into the compartment, snug in the knowledge that, when the piggly-wiggly guard came into the room, a magnet would prevent the door from locking behind him, and Garrett could slip out unnoticed while the hologram - with a few antisocial programming tendancies - would distract the dolt.

Then, he could fire the holonet beacon, make like hell for the surface, and sit tight while the Codex came and picked him up.

It wasn't his best or most thorough plan ever - but then again, he was matching mental weaponry with a bunch of overgrown slabs of bacon and a space-slug.

The door squeaked open, then clacked shut - but Garrett didn't hear the mechanical lock.

"Wut you doin' dere?" The guard growled. He shuffled through the mechanical mess towards the hologram.

"Shut your wart-covered face, you overgrown space-swill slugger." the hologram snarled. "I'm trying to fix this piece of shavvit!"

"Youse be shuttin' up NOW!" The gammorean howled, gripping his vibroaxe in both burly hands.

"Shove it, shavvit-brain!" The hologram snapped.

Garrett dashed for the door, a small piece of rubble clattering down behind him. The guard whipped around to see him scramble up the stairs.

"Wut!?" He squealed in confusion, just as Garrett clipped the magnetic seal from the doorway and slammed it behind him.

He pressed the button on the holonet beacon and darted down a hallway. He was sure there was an exit here somewhere.

And then, down the hall, there it was. He stood next to a protocol droid - armed with a nasty blaster rifle - and asked, politely, if he could open the door.

"Right away!" The droid said cheerfully, not seeming to notice the slave collar around Garrett's neck. "Have a wonderful day!"

"I'm sure I will!" Garrett said, stepping out. He noticed that something was blocking his holonet transmission - right before he realized the reason that the protocol droid had been so gleeful in letting him out.

The athmosphere didn't seem to contain much oxygen. In fact, it seemed to be mostly nitrogenic gases - and very cold.

"Shavvit..." he thought, just as consciousness left his body. "Shavvviiitttt."

[Jolts]

OOC: I'm gone for the week, Just a small holiday but a much needed one I'll cook up some IC's there,, ooh its going to be faboulus.. 4 guys on an island... lots of girls/woman.. YAY errr see you in a week guys

[Darksilverwuulf]

ooc: Garrett, I will happily play... but its late, and I can't think straight for this type of writing. I will post tommorrow, hopefully.

[High Moff Betts]

OOc: Sorry guys, Wanadoo (SP?) internet has messed up my account details so I can't get online (and haven't been able to despite having writen a post). Apparently they sent me an e-mail explaining but it's a bit hard to read it when they wont let you get online to look at it. Sometimes the stupidity of these organisations astounds me.
Anyway I should have it all sorted by 2m and i'll post soon as I get online propper.

[Master_Cameo_Naton]

(ooc : I'll be back today, probably. Jeremy's not posting, and I need to get the story going. So, I'll give it to you guys. Where do you want to go today? Core-ward, or back to the Unknown Regions?)

[xfiend1013]

OOC: Well, I'm ready when you are, Silver. Make with the mental angst, man!

Also, the following post will commence with the physical angst. It may contain adult content not suitable for those under the age of 12.

IC:

Garrett opened his eyes, which stung with the light and air. The greenish haze that blurred everything in front of him slowly vanished, dissolving away from his vision, revealing the fetid interior of the Hutt palace.

"You are awake." The protocol/gladiator droid announced, deadpan. "Hullax will now show you what the punishment is for attempted escape."

"I was just... wandering outside for some..." Garrett began. He stopped as his lungs burned. Whatever he'd inhaled outside was still causing a great deal of chest pain.

"Shut the frell up." A man clad in a dark, rubbery suit said, approaching Garrett. "Hullax doesn't want to hear your rubbish, and I want to get back to my meal, which you're going to put me off of."

The great guttorial guffaw of the Hutt rumbled in the rear of the chamber. "Undaya jan hababa shuuunaka!"

"Hullax demands your torture and the death of another slave! That is your punishment." The man in black said, sighing. He opened a briefcase, which glittered with gleaming curved knives, duller instruments, syringes and other objects Garrett knew would soon be causing him incredible pain.

"What first now, Hullax?" The torturer asked, displaying the glittering briefcase to the prostrate Hutt. "I myself am for a bit of lashing, some shin-carving, perhaps something to blind this troublemaker, keep him in line, you know?"

"Wait!" Garrett protested. The torturer looked back at him, then at Hullax.

"Should we get him a gag? It is rather late at night, and we might awaken the rest of the palace."

"Grolath." Hullax sighed. It was a word and tone of total indifference.

"No gag, then." The torturer said. "I do like to keep tags on them. More people die with the gag. Of course, those are the lucky ones, I always say."

"Ja baratha unda wanke bell!" Hullax bellowed.

"Oh, he won't pass out, sir." The torturer said. "Not until we've killed someone in his place."

"Pollah nagara tith, jara und yana."

Garrett swallowed hard and felt his heart vanish. Hullax had just said "Make it the last thing he sees."

At that, the torturer stepped back and produced a vicious whip from the pack. He came close to Garrett and pressed the metallic tip of the whip to his bare chest, pressing hard, letting the sharpened bits of metal on the end cut slowly into his skin.

Hot blood seeped out, flowing across Garrett's chest. The tip dug in a bit more, elliciting a stronger stream. Garrett gritted his teeth.

"This is a special little cat-o-nine-tails I've put together, slave." The torturer said, unrolling the black whip to the ground. "I think you'll appreciate it at a higher speed."

He stepped away from the insidious rack Garrett had been strapped to. His ankles and wrists were inserted in metal bars, locked down, and they were the supports hanging him from the ceiling, with shining metal chains.

Garrett heard a sweeping roar of the incoming whip, then the sickening, sweat-and-blood slap of the metal shards tearing through skin and muscle. He screamed and writhed in the rack, which twisted and bent. rattling the chains and bars as blood flowed freely down his chest, onto his legs, the warm threads flowing down his body.

Just as he'd managed to retrieve his recoiling mind, the whip smashed into him again, scraping sickeningly against one of his ribs, gouging the bone, splitting open his skin, which stretched further open as the deep wound began to pulse with blood.

Another crack felt like a punch to the stomach. Afterwards, however, he felt as if his stomach might break open and spill his guts to the floor. His breath was coming in frantic gasps.

Two more, three, four - until ten bright red, black and blue gashes criss-crossed his body, creating deep bleeding holes where the channels in his flesh would meet. He was wet and warm with his own blood, which could be heard dripping to the floor.

"No one escapes from Hullax, you frelling moron!" The torturer snarled as he curled the whip up, slowly, letting the metal ends tinkle across the duracrete floor. "This planet is out in the unknown regions, the athmosphere out there is deadly in a matter of minutes, and all communications are cut off when you're in the palace!"

Garrett would have been disheartened by the fact that his beacon never made it past the electronic jamming system, but the pain coursing thickly through his body was his main focus. The pain felt like a living thing, like something moving under his skin, ready to burst free, tearing him apart.

"Time for the shincarving, frell-face." The torturer cackled, pulling out two electric drills with wide, rusty-bladed bits. "But first, while I'm gettin' the right bits in, let me turn on the juice for you...."

He nodded to the shadows, where someone flipped a switch. With a pop of ozone and smoke, the metal restraints holding Garrett were electrified. His body strained and writhed under the current, his muscles stretching and distending under his skin as the electricity caused him to clench and unclench, flexing hard, causing the gaping wounds of the whip to grow and quiver with blood.

The torturer nodded again and the current stopped. Garrett slumped down in the restraints, which rang like a demented bell choir as the chains rapped slowly against them. Everything went briefly dark, then the sound of the electric drills caught his attention.

"Now hold still." The torturer said, grinning. "If you move too much, I might send a drill bit right through your shin, out the back of your leg - or cut your leg off at the ankle."

Garrett watched the rusty, spinning bits turn. The edges had been recently sharpened, crudely - bits of twisted metal shavings still protruded from the edges.

The first drill bit contacted the flesh of his shin and he jerked to the side, causing the bit to drift agonizingly across his leg. For the first time, he screamed.

"Stop! I won't try to escape again! I'll fix whatever Hullax wants! I..." He was cut off in another scream as the second drill bit howled it's high-pitched whine, boring into his shin, grinding away shards of bone and thrusting the splinters into his flesh.

"Just the serial number, Hullax?" The man asked, revving the drills. "Or anything... personal?"

"Just the number." The Hutt chortled. He didn't even seem to be watching, he was touching a display screen in front of him with his oversized hand, slowly scanning something...

"Alright then." The torturer said, sending the bit back into Garrett's leg.

"Oh, but when you're done, cut that hamstring. I don't want him to run off again."

"Yes sir!" The torturer said, with a bit too much glee.

The drilling continued on. Garrett felt all his bones shake as the bit chipped away at his shin, slicing through muscle and tendons, piling up the disgusting flesh as it ate through his leg. Flecks of rust and metal and bone stuck out of the bloody mess, which was creating a thick pool of blood on the floor.

"Don't want you to pass out or bleed to death." The man said, grinning. "Time to cauterize." He reached into his briefcase and brought out an old-fashioned oil burner, splashing the vile fluid all over Garrett's bloody shin. He produced a chemical match and grinned evily at it, his eyes gleaming. He touched it to the mangled shin, and a vicious plume of thick black smoke instantly curled up around Garrett's leg, blackening the skin there into a crackling, hardened mess as the flesh higher up his leg turned red, then bubbled up.

The torturer had made his first of many mistakes. Garrett screamed once and passed out, the pain finally overcoming his mind, turning everything red, then a peaceful, terrifying blackness.