RPG - Battledome II: The Cleansing (Page 7 of 9)

What?? Kal thought to himself.  They’re not BOTH hunters??  I’m lucky, the Mandalorian might make an even closer ally then I thought.  How did a Mando get himself stuck in such a situation anyway??  Oh, Wait!  There was one, maybe even two of them in my cell block!  Maybe this is one of them; he does sound familiar. 

“I understand.  When the time comes, let the best of us win.  Until then, we shall fight together as one.”

The lizard man didn’t seem all that happy still, but was apparently satisfied for the moment.  “Very well” he said.  “Lets break out those hidden supplies and get something to eat.  It’s going to be a long day.”

*hope that works guys  *

(Yes you will, with Mandal being so unhappy with you    )

"It seems there is a new target--should we pursue it, or wait for others to throw themselves into death?"

Dra'Kash's scaly lips pulled back in a reptilian grin.  "Let's hunt."

*Hey Werda, lets not be too eager to set up a breaking point in the team, unless of course you have something in mind the requires it.  I'm more then willing to switch my goals of winning becomes an unrealistic option or if I see Gerba as having double crossed us *and somehow I get the notion that wouldn't exactly be beyond his 'moral code' *  Lets just roll with it until we see where this leads

---RD*

**Hey, no prob ner vod.  I agree, it is an alliance based on serving each other's ends while knowing we WILL at some point be enemies...or at leat that would be their mind set right now.  And I was clear that winning was HIS objective, but I'm not so rigid    I just wanted to let you know his goals and my future plottings aren't exactly the same, and things will likely happen that turns his goal from winning the contest to just escaping it.  Looking forward to your post  **

((Enjoy, ye action-starved RPers.))

---

Nossk’s vibroaxe tore a Bartokk to his right clean in half; his machete opened a long gash across the chest of one to his left; the two blades came together and crushed a third darting right in front of him into the ground; it was a shame, though, that for all his persistence, he couldn’t move fast enough to slay the two to his rear. The pair of insects each latched onto one of his legs, and in perfect synchronization pulled the Trandoshan’s feet out from under him. The Scorekeeper-hallucination’s jab about spending so much time on the floor flared across Nossk’s mind as he went down.
   
The moment he hit the duracrete, the rest of the swarm was on him like flies to rotting flesh. There was no way he could fight back this time; his arms were pinned firmly to the ground; Bartokk slashed at his open face as he tried to snap his jaws onto them; his entire body was immobilized by the mass of chitin and buzzing insectoids, and the feeling he’d been disregarding since descending the cellar stairs returned with such ferocity that it was impossible to ignore.

This was it. Maybe it had been close before, but now it had truly arrived. His train had just ground to a halt, and it was his time to board. His death was happening - right here, right now.

He felt disappointment, above all, that his favor with the Scorekeeper should end so abruptly moments before his demise. Then confusion rose above shame. Much of the weight pressing down on him was suddenly gone, though at least a dozen of the little bastards remained fastened to his immovable limbs. Nossk turned his head and tried to squint through the blood running into his eyes from his cut forehead at what had caused the rest of the swarm to clear away from him. Finally he saw, and despite the stinging blood that streamed into his sockets, his eyes widened.

Off to the side stood a single Bartokk, physically no different from the dozens that filled the basement, yet exceedingly noticeable among its kin. The others gave this one a wide berth, clearing around it and Nossk and the dozen or so insects holding him down a circle of freakish tranquility. The omnipresent humming of the swarm was still there, but the Bartokk had ceased their ravenous attacks on the hemorrhaging Trandoshan, and seemed perfectly content with keeping him still.

After all, it wasn’t as if the insectoid that had approached Nossk’s struggling body knew how to aim the shotgun that it now held in its hands with any semblance of accuracy. It wouldn’t matter here, though, not if he was lying motionless on the ground and the damned bug was this close.

How the hell is it even going to use that thing? It’s just a fracking bug! Nossk thought incredulously. Even as he tried to assure himself that such a primitive creature couldn’t possibly work a firearm (some might’ve wondered the same about him), he found himself trying to remember if he’d pumped the shotgun before it was torn from his hands. As usual, he hadn’t the slightest idea.

The incessant, insectoid whine that filled the confines of that God-forsaken cellar increased as the Bartokk raised Nossk’s slugthrower. As if the shame of being killed by a hive of insects wasn’t enough, it would be done with his own weapon. The Scorekeeper would make his afterlife hell.

Nossk’s bleak hope that the Bartokk wouldn’t be capable of operating a weapon winked out as the creature, struggling at first, worked the slugthrower’s pump-action, and pointed the wide barrel at Nossk’s prone form. Rather than close his eyes and accept his fate, the Trandoshan glared with pure, wicked revulsion at his executioner. Some of the monstrosities holding his limbs trembled as their weak telepathy felt his hatred.

And now, Nossk thought, snarling even in his own mind, it all ends.

Three slugthrower shells discharged in the dusty, bloody basement, and Nossk wondered what it would feel like to die.

But fate would have its way over what should be, or what could’ve taken place in that cellar, or what logic would dictate was supposed to happen. And fate decided that Nossk wasn’t meant to expire just yet.

The shotgun-wielding Bartokk was hammered back into a sheet-covered wardrobe, a neat trio of spouting bullet wounds blasted through its thin abdomen. In unison, the pitch of the swarm’s buzzing rose noticeably. In unison, they turned to identify the attacker. In unison, their compound eyes fell upon Captain Demarq, holding Nossk’s smoking pistol in his uninjured hand.

A half dozen more gunshots erupted from the huge handgun, and suddenly four of the Bartokk on top of Nossk seemed to disappear. For a few seconds the swarm was wholly focused on the human pirate captain they’d previously forgotten about, and in that window, Nossk forced himself to move. Being restrained had let some of the adrenaline coursing through him wear off, and the countless wounds covering his body started coming to his attention. The Trandoshan wrenched his arms and legs free of the distracted Bartokk, wincing at the pain that flared through his body.

Nossk rolled over on to his stomach and pushed himself off the ground. He struggled to get his wounded legs under him, somehow managed the feat, and forced them to drive towards the human that might have just saved his life. The powerful legs that pushed the Trandoshan forward screeched in protest at the activity; blood still poured freely from where one of the Bartokk had stabbed into his thigh, and dozens of other smaller gashes adorned his lower legs. Still, Nossk ordered them to keep running, pumping up and down like gory, failing pistons.

The Trandoshan bent to scoop up his shotgun from the bullet-ridden Bartokk corpse, and almost tripped over his own feet. He recovered, shouldered clumsily through a pair of the insects, and made a beeline for Demarq, a name he still didn’t know. He found that he could no longer feel his legs, but his brain told them to move just the same; and move they did, stubbornly refusing to accept the fact that they shouldn’t be able to support the reptile above them.

The nature of the Bartokk’s “hive mind” had a few rather interesting aspects to it. Not only did the connection allow them to share feelings and messages between them, but it shared their very intelligence as well. How smart a group of Bartokk was literally depended on how many of their kind were within a certain distance. The kills that Nossk and Demarq had made certainly thinned their ranks to some degree, but compared to the strength of the entire swarm, no significant impact in their brainpower had occurred. What did happen however, and this was absolutely vital to the pair’s unlikely survival, was the onset of a slight sluggishness in the swarm’s reaction time. While they were still processing that another threat existed off towards the door, and that the one they were about to execute was now making a break for it, Nossk had already sprinted a full 5 meters on what should have been crippled legs. Finally the pack of monstrosities leapt, all at once, into pursuit of their reptilian prey, but it would be too late. The Trandoshan’s miraculous pace provided him with too much of a head start for them to catch him before he reached Demarq, and the double umbilical doors behind him that opened into the fake house’s backyard. What they could possibly do once they reached the surface, neither of them knew; the odds were that the swarm would simply follow them out, kill them, and move on to terrorize other fighters in the Battledome, but for now even Nossk’s hectic and dense mind acknowledged that they had no other choice.

Blood dripped from the Trandoshan’s forehead into his eyes, stinging painfully and forcing him to shut his eyes against the rivulets of his own precious life-sustaining fluid. He charged blindly onwards, barreling in a straight line like a runaway train. Demarq saw him coming, and it was a good thing too; if he hadn’t, the blinded lizard-man would probably have blasted right through him.

The pirate captain sidestepped as the crazed reptile hurtled past him, staring in awe as the Trandoshan not only overshot him, but kept going and plowed straight through the double doors to the surface. The lock ripped free of the wooden doors as the massive reptilian crashed into it, pouring sunlight into the dark cellar. Demarq was after him in a flash.

Nossk’s incredulous rampage came to an abrupt end on the other side of the doorway as his legs finally gave in. The Trandoshan collapsed on a well-kept flowerbed that had no business being in a bloodbath like this. Demarq leapt from the cellar, firing Nossk’s pistol behind him as he dove beside the Trandoshan. He glanced over to appraise the prone lizard, hoping the brute was still alive and potentially of use. The pirate scanned the blood-soaked body quickly, then returned his gaze to the basement door.

The rest will be coming out any second now. Demarq thought, wondering how many rounds were left in the Trandoshan’s big handgun. He reached over and groped at Nossk’s pistol-belt, feeling for an extra magazine. As he fumbled through the ammunition pouches his hand touched something round, heavy, and cold. No…it can’t be. There’s no way he’d have some and not have used one already.

Captain Demarq’s hand returned from the ammo pouch clutching one of Nossk’s fragmentation grenades.

He stared at it blankly for a precious moment, amazed.

“And when were you planning on using these!?” Demarq yelled at the Trandoshan, who appeared to have lapsed into unconsciousness.

Shaking his head in exasperation, the pirate got to his feet and yanked the pin from the explosive device. The first of the Bartokk burst from the doorway just as the grenade sailed past it into the basement – it clattered to a halt among the tightly-packed swarm of insectoids. The single bug that had emerged from the cellar turned in time to see a huge fireball engulf most of his brethren; Demarq emptied the last of the slugthrower clip into its back.

A faint buzzing still emanated from the basement, but it was out of sync and barely audible. The Bartokk’s intelligence had been reduced to well below sentient level, and their organization was in tatters. What numbers remained didn’t dare stray from the hellish basement, effectively making Demarq and his Trandoshan target’s escape a success – if Nossk managed to stay alive that was.

Already Demarq was tearing strips from Nossk’s prison coveralls (his machete and vibroaxe had been left in the cellar, and he wouldn’t dare venture back to that place) and using them to bind the Trandoshan’s many, many wounds before he lost too much blood to recover from. He’d heard that their kind had amazing regenerative abilities, and Demarq was banking on that capability to keep his soon-to-be enforcer alive. In the meantime the cacophony of their battle should serve to keep other combatants away from the house, giving them at least a little time to regroup, and Nossk some time to recover.

“You really are an idiot.” Demarq said casually to the unconscious body, amazed that he could have completely forgotten about his own grenades. But you’re one tough sithspawn, I’ll give you that – and lucky for you, that’s just what I need.

**Sorry for the lack of posting, been sick - then addicted to KOTOR 2**

Nelba was half starved, his cousin had fed him on only half rotten prawns and something that had once been water. As the blades of the Shell Hutt sliced through the stupider victims of the Battledome Nelba suddenly felt hunger pangs. The blood was whetting his appetite. The small part of him that was still sane was repulse by the idea, but base instinct overruled.

A chunk of flesh hit the side of Nelba’s view port and he used a claw to retrieve the fleshy mess that had once been part of a Zeltron.

-

Tressah peered out the window at the massacre outside. “A Shell Hutt, why would Gerba throw in a Shell Hutt?”

Otto shrugged, “He’s demented, there’s no logic in anything he does.”

“True enough,” Tressah replied. She almost gagged as she saw that the Shell Hutt had taken a piece of Zeltron flesh into his shell. She could see the less the podgy face as he devoured it. “Oh that’s just wrong.”

“What?” Otto asked.

“You don’t want to know,” Tressah replied. She stopped for a moment. “Notice that everyone is focussing on the Shell Hutt or the Dragons?”

“Does that really surprise you?” Otto replied with a roll of his eyes.

“No, but this could be a good opportunity to get to the jetpacks.” Tressah pointed out.

Otto laughed, “They’re probably rigged to blow.”

“They’re the only reasonable way out of here,” Tressah said as she placed her hands on her hips.

“You’ll die before getting out of here.” Otto said as he checked his pistol.

“It’s worth a shot,” Tressah said with growing annoyance.

Otto shrugged, “It’s your funeral, I plan to stay right on the ground.”

“Wuse,” Tressah said as she moved for the door.

Rro said nothing during the whole exchange. But he moved in sync with Tressah. As soon as she poked her head out the door she was shot at. Otto countered through the window and took out a human male.

“Thanks,” Tressah said quietly then moved out. The five pillars were not far but there was going to be a lot of bloodshed before getting there.

((Alright, this post was supposed to be like at least four times longer than this, but I've been brutally assaulted with a schedule of upcoming exams and research paper due dates, and will be unable to write until next week at the very earliest. The past few weeks of inactivity as far as this RPG goes I will also fully blame upon the workload of my beloved (@#&%) MCV.))

-----

Nossk had experienced plenty of rough mornings, especially in his teenage years, but this, he thought, easily trumped them all. Everywhere ached and burned; even opening his eyes and stretching the skin of his scabbed forehead made him wince, which hurt even more. The Trandoshan immediately closed his eyes again, situational awareness be damned.

“Morning sunshine.” The human voice that had only ever spoken a few sentences to him was already becoming all too familiar. “So you didn’t bleed out on me overnight, good. I’d almost written you off as a dead man…lizard.”

“Were it so easy…” Nossk groaned, forcing his eyes open again and trying to see the human without having to move his head. He was hunkering off to the Trandoshan’s right, the slugthrower pistol dangling between his knees from his good hand. He appraised the reptilian with a skeptically raised eyebrow.

“I hate to break it to you Rexy, but you still don’t look so hot. Where’re those fabled Trando superpowers?”

“Don’t let your little eyes fool you, human.” Nossk growled, digging the butt of his shotgun into the ground and using it to pull himself into a painful sitting position. “I’m fit enough to break you in half if you call me that again.”

“Ya, I’ve heard that one before.” Demarq retorted, referring to the lizard-man’s unfulfilled threat from the night before. “Can you move?”

“Of course.” Nossk snapped immediately, as if he was scolding the pirate for doubting him. Pulling hard on the shotgun, the Trandoshan began to haul himself to his feet. In his vigor to redeem his brutish image, however, he seemed to forget that his hand was on the slide-pump that loaded the weapon. As he tried to pull himself up, the action slid down. Nossk hadn’t been expecting the sudden drop as his body weight, which had been supported solely by the slugthrower, jolted a few inches down. He collapsed, and lay sprawled quite ridiculously on the soft, seemingly well-kept lawn of one of the faux houses. His frustration spiked sharply.

Demarq regarded the stubborn lizard with a bemused one-sided smile.

“Very amusing, but we don’t have time for the antics Rexy, get a move on. No one ever found redemption in the dirt.” The pirate captain said sternly, making his voice as harsh as possible.

Shame, he thought, is the key to controlling this one. Keep hitting him where it hurts, and he’ll keep pushing harder.

Not even bothering to threaten the human for using the degrading nickname he’d concocted, Nossk clenched his jaw and adjusted his grip on the pump-gun. This time, after some struggle, he managed to attain something vaguely akin to a standing position. The Trandoshan remained entirely dependent on the shotgun for support; the stab wound in his thigh was deep, and Demarq already knew it would take longer to heal than the other injures. Considering the extent of those injuries, and belying the pirate captain’s stinging insults, he was, in reality, astounded that Nossk was even alive, nevermind being able to stand. Regardless of what he’d said earlier, the regenerative abilities of the Trandoshan seemed to be very real indeed, and he was willing to bet that if he checked under the bandages festooned about the reptile’s body, the more shallow ones would already have closed.

“Very well.” Demarq said casually, careful not to sound the least bit impressed. “Let’s go.”

The pirate, who now wore Nossk’s pistol belt, appropriated the pack he’d been wearing as well before stepping off. Standing would be a difficult task for the crippled Trando; walking would be nigh impossible; there was no way he could handle the extra weight of the rucksack.

Demarq watched with amazed anticipation out of the corner of his eye as Nossk took his first step...then a second…and a third. The Trandoshan was actually walking. His shotgun served as an appropriately-themed crutch, and with it he limped to the pirate captain’s side; the human could’ve sworn he caught the equivalent of a smug grin tug at the Trando’s marred face as the lizard-man hobbled abreast to him.

Their pace was understandably slow, but Demarq didn’t mind; after all, the pair had no real destination to speak of. For the moment he was content with just getting away from this “neighborhood”, away from the battlefield where they’d fought the Bartokk hive, and in doing so basically broadcast their position to any scavenger looking to pick off some weakened competition. Demarq was surprised enough that they’d survived the night unhindered, and was determined not to press his considerable (but not limitless) luck if he could avoid it – he had the feeling he’d need as much of it as he could get.

"I can't breathe! I know that's what you're thinking, deep down in that sub par cranium. I can just taste the moment, as the poisons fill your lungs when your pride collapses...that's when I'll have it." Flying W was ecstatic, he'd found a prisoner to play with.
His hands were firmly planted on the youth's head, contact improved his abilities, and in this case the image of being breathless was so firmly planted in the boy's brain he wasn't even trying to. His chest had stopped falling, and the race had begun. Still looking for the two that had escaped the basement, this unfortunate soul had stumbled in their path.
If he didn't know anything, only Flying W would see it. And in this drastic reality, only W was there to hear the boy. His screams, his confession.
He began to breathe once more, he'd cracked. Flying W took his hands away, the boy fell, out.
"Well, it appears they won't be too hard to find. Just left the building block, according to our friend here. I wish I could just pierce the mind through to the core, could've been done earlier."
"Let it be, they'll tell you anything to live." Rando had his arms crossed, they were too open for something like this. His eyes hadn't stopped moving since they'd started. Watching for that eventual attack.
"Oh no, no, no! You don't understand, I can't get them out from under my skin! If I don't, well..." Rando casually stepped away from the approaching lunatic,"I want to meet these great slayers, want to taste the blood running from their feet. What's my reason? Who cares for reason, it's just something I must have!"
Rando sighed and refused to argue. Every second spent together was Flying W's advantage, he'd no escape now. But such is the way that opens up before him. He took a look at the boy, passed out on the cold purmacrete, and pulled him inside a nearby doorway.
As much sympathy as he could afford to give. He caught up to Flying W, and cautiously walked behind.

"That parasite!" Flying W took a swig of water ffrom Rando's flask and threw it back.
"Well, I don't know to say."Rando laughed under his breath.
Steps out of the purmacrete they'd been surrounded. Six thin, gangly creatures with blaster pistols trained on them.Unfortunately, with the way the day was going, they just didn't care. Imagining the problem didn't exist helped a little.
"Hand the rifle over!" The lead had said three times already. If wasn't going to shoot now, then he never would. A moment passed and nothing, just another demand for them to disarm themselves.
"It has been a very long while in here hasn't it? I think they've gone crazy with staying alive!" Flying W swung the gourd loose in his hand, the stopper was missing.
Rando picked out the boy from earlier, being shouldered by a woman in the back. They'd been watched and slow about it.
"I propose we go our separate ways. We have nothing you need." Rando kept the cycler strap firm in one hand.
"Yeah, but they have something I want..." Flying W stepped forward. Rando snapped the pistol out of the nearest hand and with a diving roll came out of the circle.
The first fractured anguish split the air. He looked up from the ground to see a sword tip ease out of place in the man's sternum. Blood dripped lightly from the edge, quickly drieing out. Less than a minute passed, and Flying W remained standing. Unharmed and clean.
"Grab two bodies and follow me..." Any hint of his indirect sardonic nature had been wiped off. Rando followed suit after finding a place to tuck the pistol. He looked back to see the boy and woman gone.
They pulled them up stone steps, through a dull metal door, and with determined ease Flying W knocked the kitchen table out of his way. He stacked the corpses, two high around a central square.Within that square, he placed the gourd.
He started working, making slow deliberate incisions with a basic metal knife. Life cascaded, death stained the confines in a bitter acrid film on the air. Rando stepped outside and swore. Then looked toward the house next to them, a human was working. His head raised slowly up, Rando jumped back inside. Hoping he hadn't been seen, but he knew the motion had been.
The stench had gotten worse, now with no where for even barely decent air, and neighbors he was caught.
He stalked up the stairs, to open a window. Let everyone else know a lunatic was fileting bodies inside.

.

Sorry I been off this dude; been meaning to post for like a week now.  Finals are over, so no more excuses      I'm off to work like, now, so this'll be short.  Will try to add more tonight.

"So, kill him and run, or stick out the fight?"

The thought of killing the encased slug brought a toothy smile to Dra'kash's face.  Before he could say anything, however, the Shell Hutt's hover-sled revealed a full battery of missile launchers.  "COVER!!!"

Dra'kash and landed head first in the same depression as the missiles crashed down everywhere around them.  "I think he's made the desicion for us.... we FIGHT!"

((Alright, I can jump back in anytime, most might have probably forgotten my character (:P) so Railn, Werda...just say the word and I'll get to working on a post. And thanks guys, for the prayers. ))

a little late for me to join eh? oh well theres always a next time.......i hope