RPG - Battledome II: The Cleansing (Page 5 of 9)

*Is that a different Dragon or the one me and WV were fighting?  We blew the head off of ours...Just checking*

Genjin's fist ripped out the mechanical innards of the last battle droid that had tried to surround him. He may have had to run from the Krayt and Rancor, but these droid annoyances were easily dealt with. The defuct battle droid collapsed to the ground and Genjin dropped the remains from his hand.

Resuming his seach of the urban area, Genjin leapt from roof top to roof top, leaving the roof top where the battle droids had seen and ambushed him. Genjin was currently stalking a group of inmates who were now holed up in one of the buildings. Last he saw from a distance through a window, they were at a stalemate and looked to be deciding whether or not to join forces. Genjin had considered this prospect himself, but considered it pointless. He would have to kill his partners eventually if he was to succeed. He wouldn't burst in and kill these mercenaries either because of his lack of a lightsaber and the tight spaces. His best bet was stealth.

He had now successfully reached the building where the group he was following now resided. He had seen a glimpse earlier of the female snatching several blasters and sneaking them away from her 'partners' he wanted to see what was about to transpire. He lowered himself like a ninja to an open window and moved one eye over the window so his whole body wasnt exposed and he watched the group.

know what you mean. I'm slow at posting, sometimes, and will lack inspiration and/or creativity beyond a few sentences at a time. So yeah, I'll check back and be like, "oops. Need to adjust things now". Don't worry about it.

Krish was surprised to run into some of his cell mates.  But what made him even more surprised was the fact that John followed him.  The boy needed to learn how to take an order.  It could get him killed.  Krish's right hand was aiming his hold-out blaster and his left arm was cocked and ready to launch a knife as anyone who even twitched wrong.

"So what's it going to be?" Otto started, "A joining of forces or a fight to the death?"

"Either way we will have to fight to the death."

Otto shrugged,  "Why not at least guarantee one of us will make it?"

Krish nodded but did not lower his weapon.  For all intents and purposes that would spell death.

"So if we are to join an alliance, who will lower the weapon first?"

The question hung in the air as eyes darted from one to another.

A lound thunk sounded as the broadswords tied to W's waist fell to the floor. Rando followed suit with his straight sword.
"You know, I don't think being disarmed will change the situation here. Rando and I don't want to win, he'd rather just get out." But what did Flying W want?
"I just don't care either way, if one of you wants to win and work for that invertebrate then go ahead. I won't be the one who fights Katray. Who will show up. The droids, the monsters, I wouldn't put it past Gerba to try and kill us all instead." Rando had lost a little spirit, leaning himself up against the wall halfhazardly.
Everyone else looked around, sizing each other up when the front door burst open. A Rodian, carrying a vibro-knife rushed them.
Rando moved, already having relaxed he could. Tense bodies were slow ones. The Rodian attempted to stab down. Rando caught him below the elbow with an x-block, right hand up. He moved his hands and using leverage bent the elbow in. It stabbed through the alien's gut, Rando used his knee to push it in to the hilt.
Had the assailant been quicker, had Rando been slower. His first target would have been the child.
"Children are precious things, who must be taught and protected." Flying W chuckled, moving further into the house swords in hand he waved the rest onward," Let's be off kiddies, staying in one place too long draws attention..."
Rando retied his belt, and went back for the cycler, he was last of the group who followed.

Nossk crashed to the ground yet again, his shoulder pauldron smoldering from the battledroid’s second cannon blast. He grasped the wound in one thick, four-fingered hand, gritting his fangs against the lance of pain. The sharp teeth cut into his mouth with ease, and his gums bled in slow, oozing rivers down his chin.

The Trandoshan released his shoulder and seized his vibroaxe, which had clattered to the ground as he was launched backwards for the second time. He pushed himself onto his feet, spit a glob of blood and spittle into the gutter, and charged again. The last time he’d done the exact same thing it had been no difficult task for the droid to simply take aim and let off another round, which it did, and send Nossk soaring back onto the pavement. His list of wounds was starting to grow, and he hadn’t even killed a half-dozen sentients yet. The reptilian was disgusting even himself with his weakness.

Surely this wasn’t the famous Trandoshan fury that The Scorekeeper rewarded so generously? Crushing terrified maggots, slaying a mere human by no other means than sheer luck, being struck twice and brought to the ground by a droid; The Scorekeeper wouldn’t even recognize the slaughter of such mindless, programmed husks. Nossk could almost feel his favor with the deity slipping.

Watch me, Scorekeeper. Nossk pleaded, his resolve deepening and the casual disregard that he applied to just about everything beginning to fade away. He saw the battledroid lock its gun arm in place, requiring few adjustments, for the machine’s target was barreling straight for it. The Trandoshan heard the weapon’s short charging cycle begin, just another half a second before it would fire. The red bolt of fire erupted from the droid’s built-in weapon, searing through the air towards its large, tactics-ignorant destination; this blast was aimed for his head, where his stubbornness, pain tolerance, and considerable constitution would do nothing to keep him alive and fighting.

And indeed they didn’t.

Without thinking (which is traditionally when Nossk performed best) the Trandoshan had grinded his clawed toes against the asphalt of the replica village, slowing himself down, and ducked to the left. The bolt flew over his uninjured shoulder, blasting a small crater into the sidewalk on the other end of the street. The reptilian recovered quickly, drew back his axe, and ran full-force at his enemy once again, this time unhindered by the blaster that wouldn’t have time to fire a second shot before he got there. The battledroid calculated the same thing, and raised its vibroblade appendage as it assumed a defensive stance. It was equipped with several advanced dueling programs; Nossk, on the other hand, knew how to run and swing. Beyond that he was ignorant of the art of close combat, which ironically enough was considered his specialty.

Nossk closed the distance gap quickly, but hesitated even once he knew he was in range. He led with his machete rather than the vibroaxe, despite the rather obvious fact that the non-vibro weapon simply didn’t have the cutting power to do much of anything to the war droid. Nossk realized this in some part of his mind, but ignored it; after all, he had a plan. Somewhere, solar systems away, a certain Trandoshan mother dropped a tray of glass tankards, not quite sure of what had just surprised her.

The droid reacted as its programming dictated, shifting its sword-arm to parry the machete despite its relative harmlessness. Nossk’s primitive plan had just worked (the same Trandoshan mother tripped on her way down the stairs, cursing her clumsiness). Reveling in its success, Nossk brought his vibroaxe across his chest and towards the droid’s head, which was now unprotected by the preoccupied vibro-blade that the Trandoshan kept locked on the other side of its body. Metal collided with metal. Sparks flew.

The battledroid pulled its vibroblade away from Nossk’s machete and stepped back, sparks and tibanna gas spewing from its blaster-arm. The droid had blocked the vibroaxe with its blaster cannon, devoid of any other alternatives other than virtual “death”, and the Trandoshan’s blow had bitten through several inches of frame and vital systems. The war machine’s problematic ranged weapon was disabled, and Nossk wasted no more time in pressing his advantage. He followed the droid step for step, attacking with both of his blades in a constant barrage that managed to bash through the battledroid’s preprogrammed defense in a matter of violent and furious seconds. One of Nossk’s vibroaxe strikes severed a servo in the droid’s sword-arm, and after that it was a simple matter to take the rest of the arm, followed in short order by its protruding head.

The droid slumped where it stood, completely rigid. At first the Trandoshan dared not lower his weapons, lest the machine return to life and try to kill him once again. When it remained motionless for several seconds Nossk kicked it in the chest; the droid toppled over and crashed to the ground. Nossk roared, coming out as more of a hissing/gargling fit, and spit the still-flowing blood out of his mouth onto the fallen droid. A few choice curses in Dosh completed his victory.

Nossk sheathed his machete, checking his scalded shoulder as he did so. The bulky pauldrons he wore absorbed a large amount of the blast, which was only a glancing blow to begin with, and the damage was fortunately minimal, though not painless. Nossk rolled it experimentally, wincing just the slightest bit, and prepared to move on. The open garage door caught his eye, however, and he turned to face it instead. The droid might have had a purpose for being placed in that garage, and the Trandoshan could very well have just destroyed the guardian to some rather valuable spoils. Drawing his slugthrower, Nossk entered the darkened prefab building.

Trandoshan eyes work excellently in low light conditions, but the light switch was easy to find, even for Nossk, and the room was soon bathed with light. The thick-headed bounty hunter would have smiled, were he able. Laying on a tarp at the back of the garage was an assortment of gear that looked both beautifully heavy and brutally powerful: it seemed a perfect match for the barbarian reptile.

Nossk could identify none of it, but then again he didn’t have to. There was a suit of Iotran Braceman armor, blocky and thick, just like its soon-to-be owner. The armor covered his forearms, torso, and thighs, complimenting the improvised assortment of protection he already wore; a standard infantry helmet was placed next to the armor, but it would never fit a Trandoshan skull, and Nossk ignored it as he donned the rest of the armor. After adjusting the straps for his chest and upper legs, Nossk found that the Braceman armor fit rather well, and he was in high spirits as he moved on to the weaponry.
   
First to attract his attention was the grenades. There were four little globes of destruction in all, and Nossk snatched them up greedily and attached them to the gunbelt he’d replaced over the Braceman chestpiece. Two weapons remained on the damp floor of the garage: a long-rifle and a wide-barreled, pump-action slugthrower. Nossk found the long-ranged weapon not to his liking; his way of fighting was always up close, pistol or blade range, not hundreds of meters away squeezing off rounds at a target you can only see through a scope. The Trandoshan had the presence of mind to destroy the rifle’s action with a quick swing of his vibroaxe before picking up the pump-gun.

The reptilian mercenary felt a connection the moment his hands gripped the cold metal. He’d used weapons like this before, spread-fire slugthrowers that would, a long time in the future, in a galaxy far, far away, be called shotguns, but none of this craftsmanship. A large box of shells lay next to the weapon, and Nossk distributed them through the pockets in his belt and armor before filling the shotgun itself and working the action. The Trandoshan reveled in the satisfying sound that the simple process of loading produced.

Little did Nossk know, however, that this very weapon, dozens of years in the future, would make its way onto a small, forgotten space station; a space station, as it so happens, in which a contagious, disease-spreading monstrosity, a Plague Beast, if you will, would take residence. This shotgun would fall into the hands of a boy, a boy who would become a man, a man who would become a legendary soldier the likes of which the galaxy he lived in was most certainly not ready for. But that is a far, far different story than the one being told.

((This part is mostly just for the old Battledome writers, little tie-in I thought might be kinda cool. Don’t mind my reminiscing.))

Nossk hefted his new find with pride, and, convinced that there was nothing more of value, left the dank confines of the garage. He roamed the streets of the faux town with renewed confidence, eager and ready for whatever the Scorekeeper was planning to send at him next.

"But if you do, know this...In the end...I will betray you."

The Mandalorian hesitated, making a quick look toward Dra’Kash, his grip still tight around his weapons.  Dra’Kash narrowed his slit pupils and clenched his jaw.

“I would trust a Mandalorian to honor and alliance, and IF we completed this arena together, to fight me honorably as warriors.  Betrayal is the word of a coward and murderer.  I will not fight beside you, but would rather…”

A shot rang out, as the Mandalorian apparently tired of the monologue and decided to get things over with.  The Jedi’s lightsaber flashed into action just in time.  However, the slug wasn’t entirely incinerated by the block, and parts of the molten metal peppered his vest and face. 

Dra’Kash quickly opened fire as well, but the Jedi made it to cover behind the massive dragon’s corps. 

Before they could advance on him, the Mandalorian suddenly stopped and look behind.  “I think we have a problem” he said through his helmet’s comm. system.  A scream sounded from behind just as Dra'Kash turned to look.  The Barabel's heart skipped a beat when he saw the SECOND dragon that was standing behind them, it's clawed foot holding the crushed body of a weequay face down in the sand.  Picking up the body with it's massive jaws, the body slipped in with a single gulp. 

The creature's black, lifeless eyes turned toward the warriors.  With a roar, it prepared to charge…

*There’s your in Si, hope it works.  Let me know if I can edit to make it fit better or if I missed something.  Same for WV and Mandal, if this goes against a plan you dudes worked out, let me know and I can edit

---RD*

((I'd say that's just the right amount of gross. It's awesome. However, could you possibly clarify what it is exactly that W can do? I've been looking back, but can't quite figure it out.))

I second the motion.  Is the drink a blood thinner or is that just what the jug was made out of?

EDIT:  I think I have it.  It's Rando's blood and the jug stops the blood from coagulating inside the container.  Yes?

Masra enjoyed the air of death surrounding her in the battledome. She had yet to sink her vibroblade into a creatures flesh, and every cell in her body now hungered, craved and desired to inflict pain. Masra longed to wreak havoc in the arena, but was disappointed to see battle droids amongst the madness and dead. “Inferior foes.” She thought. They neither bled nor felt pain. And that was all the point. The was no joy in stopping a droid, no power to be stolen in its defeat.

There was much chaos around the dome. She could see blaster shots being fired in the jungle habitat, and heard some hapless creature scream, as Masra watched it crushed beneath the toes of a large lizard. “Krayt Dragon” her HUD labeled it. Masra blinked twice and even more information was brought up, only this time into the small ear pieces she wore. What stood out to her was the mention of “highly valuable and sought after ‘pearls’ “that apparently formed in one of the creatures stomach. An interesting twist as well. It would be a great bonus proposition for the mercenary. And unlike those pathetic, weak droids, the dragon posed a mighty challenge and threat to herself. But it would be no easy task.

A Barabel and the Mandalorian stood near one another right in the path of the formidable beast. She thought she saw the flash of a lightsaber as well, but she was unsure as she was distracted by the fact that there was actually another carcass of the same sort of great beast.  That hutt Gerba had apparently spared no effort and expence to make this battle bloody as possible.

Masra understood the limitations of her armor and strength. Blood lust went a long way, but she wasn’t foolish. It would be impossible to deal with those two plus the Krayt simultaneously. But if she used them to her advantage, a distraction to the dragon, they would be to busy themselves to give much attention to her, and like wise the creature.

Masra unsheathed her longest blade, and sprinted towards the action. So far no one had paid any mind to the yellow armored mercenary. She drew nearer and slowed down. There was a large rock which she crouched next to, keeping a careful eye on the situation unfolding. She had heard and felt the mines that detonated earlier near the center of the dome. So trying to use that knowledge she picked up the largest stone she could see and reach. It landed hard with a thud into the middle of what she had supposed was the mine field.

Nothing happened. The dragon nor the other combatants gave the stone a first glance.

Masra uttered a curse under her breath. Her mind raced with possibilities as what could have gone wrong. She picked up another stone to try again, seeing that her cover was still useable. This time she did manage to find what she was looking for. It landed squarely on a mine. But it was anti climatic. All the other mines’ detonation had damaged this one, leading only to a half hearted “poof” of sand. Again it had no effect on any one else inside the battledome. But it had the unwanted effect of drawing the scrutiny of one of the battle droids sensors. And it headed toward the originating point of the vector of the stone that triggered the minor explosion.

To the battle droids dismay, Masra’s motion sensors detected the droids approach. With a sweeping flourish she pushed her vibrosword backwards, and into the center of the droid, stopping it in its tracks. Masra spun to face the droid and in one fast move of the blade upward and the droid lie in two smoking and leaking lubricant into the sand floor.

When she turned to face towards the krayt dragon again, it was closer than ever, but for some odd reason still oblivious to her presence. Maybe it had something to do with that it had turned to snack on a hapless weeqay whose legs were now sticking out of the dragon’s mouth. Masra was now looking down the backside of a very nasty lizard. But she ignored the displeasure of the thought, focusing on the wealth that the pearls would bring.  So she ran forward, pulling out her other virbrosword that was still slung on her back. At the last second she slid down in the sand, ducking under the creature’s tail and by its back pair of legs. Masra sliced as hard and as deep as she could into the back of the these legs, severing tendons and causing green blood to flow from the wounds and cover the blades in the sticky, warm fluid. The creature bellowed in pain and Masra felt the surge of power from it.

Masra did a quick roll forward to avoid the creature as it started to fall back as those legs could no longer support its heavy weight. As she came out of the roll she jabbed both blades deep into the creature's soft underbelly and actually ran with them until she reached the creatures neck. There the scales were thicker, almost like the durasteel plates on a star craft, and the blades stopped. The krayts screams were intolerably loud, and the sound reverberated around the dome.  Yet it only fueled Masra on further. She pulled the blades out and dug deep again with them, up to the very hilts, and cut out the prone portion of its neck.

All the sand around them was now soft with the blood and fluid from the krayt dragon gushing wounds. There was organs spilling down and dragging on the ground.

Again Masra rolled out of the way as the beast fell to the ground, bleeding, gasping for air, but not finding any. The creature would die. It was only a matter of time. Masra now sheathed her vibroswords, and pulled a smaller dagger out from her belt. She cut a new wound into the dragon, where she was estimated where the gullet that carried the pearls was purported to be. But alas her hand came up empty.

There was another curse uttered inside the helmet.

She went towards another spot and this time she was rewarded with two small stone like shiny globes.  But the slaying of the krayt dragon would be noticed. And others would be coming for her. So with that she ran for the cover of the mock urban landscape.

(( Sev I have an idea...... i dunno if you're up to it but.... ))

Dra'Kash had turned his attention back toward the Jedi's direction after the second dragon went down, but he was nowhere to be seen either.  The real competition seems to have arrived... he thought with a sneer as he pulled his massive blade from it's sheath and cut into the first dragon.

"Well. That was interesting. Who do we go after?"

Ripping the pearl sack from the body in his bloody hand, Dra’Kash let the two jems fall into his palm.  Gazing at them for a moment, he pocketed one and flipped the second to the Mando.  “Most of the sentients have run to the city.  Let them kill each other.  We shall own the woods, killing those we find and letting the masses slaughter each other in the town.”  Stopping to pick up a large tooth from the fallen dragon, he pulled most of the burnt flesh that still clung to it and started into the deepest section of the forest. 

“We must find our ground and master it.  Come, those in the city will learn soon enough that the buildings only hold death.  They will seek shelter…and we shall be waiting”

*That’s what I have in mind.  Anybody who was planning on giving us an in to something else PM me and I’ll edit*