Posts by The_Revanchist

Devorad shrugged at Quin's silence and moved on.
"You are all relieved, but be ready to move at a moment's notice, people!" Devorad shouted. The crowd dispersed and went back to their daily lives. Devorad would return to his home, locking the door behind him before retrieving the spell tome from his bookshelf and sitting down upon his bed with it in hand. Absentmindedly, he flipped through the pages, observing any spell that caught his interest.

Ra'iz opened Nass's door and slipped inside, closing the door behind him.
"Milady? Are you alright? You seemed distraught, so I figured you maybe want to talk about it?" He asked innocently enough. He hadn't meant to frighten her, but Ra'iz figured it was his job to tell Nass things such as these. It was the least he could to to try and right his error.

"This? It's just a spell tome. Well, a particularly powerful tome, but still just a tome." He said, thumbing through the pages, though he was far more interested in Estrei than the book. "How do your kind learn magic? It seems like you'd have no need for spellbooks, as you don't exactly die. I figure they're passed down another way?" He asked.

Ra'iz scoured the room scrupulously, looking for any sign of the princess. "Milady? Where are you?" He called out. How could this have happened? Ra'iz was stationed outside her door day and night...
Stationed by the door... Ra'iz thought, then a thought crossed his mind, urging him to search around the windows.

Devorad leaned back and looked up at her. "I see, so there's no records of your nature magic? I've heard of druids, but I've no knowledge of them other than that they exist. Are they of your kind?" He asked curiously, cocking his head.

Ra'iz gritted his teeth and called for a troop of guards to follow him, soon to mount their horses and pursue the fleeing princess. Finding her would save his neck, certainly, but why was she running in the first place, he wondered.

Ra'iz grumbled to himself. This one was not unknown to him, unfortunately.

"What do you want, sellsword? I have no need of your services, nor your banter." He spat. He detested those who killed and harmed others simply for sport or for gain. This elf was no different.

"Unless you have trackers to spare, you have nothing to offer me." He said, bristling at the thought of possibly having to ask this lot foe assistance. But he had heard of the impeccable senses of the elves, senses that could undoubtedly prove useful.

Devorad shrugged. "Nature magic could prove useful in the days to come, with trying to rebuild a kingdom nearly from scratch. Growing crops faster and more easily could prove a crucial ability. Maybe you can teach me?" He asked.

Ra'iz partially drew his blade, then thought better of it, placing his sword back into its sheath. He should have beheaded the elf where she stood, but that would have incited a great deal of panic. Without another word, Ra'iz gripped the rein and urged his horse onward.

Ra'iz grumbled at the stubbornness of the crowd, dismounting his steed and sending it off to the stables once more. With a certain grace, the royal guard slipped and weaved his way through the crowd, as easily as a fish through water. He knew these roads, and he knew them well. A flicker of sunlight bouncing from fine silk caught his eye up ahead, where a disturbance in the flow of the crowd began to become apparent, much like a rock parting a stream. With a sigh, Ra'iz pushed further through the crowd to rescue this helpless, hapless girl.

Devorad closed his spellbook with a charismatic gusto, rising to set it back on his desk.
"I've decided I will tell the group tomorrow. It's been long enough, and I can't stand having you cooped up here like a prisoner." Devorad announced, flopping down onto the bed beside her. "By then we will be ready to depart. Are you ready, my dear?" He asked, wrapping his arms around the bare nymph and pulling her into his loving arms. As much as the house was keeping Estrei trapped, the forest around them was trapping them all with its arboreal grip.

The swift capture happened before Ra'iz could even react, before he could even bat an eye. Cursing up a storm, he gave chase after the impertinent elf. But it was far too late, the doors slammed almost directly onto his nose.

Completely losing his interest in his own question, Devorad allowed himself to get lost in her seductive aura. He would never allow something to distract him from this sensation...
"Let us make tonight a really good one, yeah? It may be the last time for awhile, we'll be moving day and night for some time..."

Devorad smiled devilishly, taking her by her horns and pulling her into a steaming kiss that would most certainly make the gods look away, ashamed that they themselves could not accomplish the same. Yes, Devorad took her lips, and everything else in one fell swoop. Interlocked in a grip of heated love that no one could hope to break, nor to even emulate.

In the shadows of the throne room, the smallest, most minute of movements were made across the ramparts, quiet enough that not a soul would hear. Somewhere between ten and twenty silhouettes, all holding crossbows in one hand, a knife in the other, and a curved blade at their hips. This was going to be a day to remember...

Ra'iz cursed up and down the halls, around corners and down corridors. He had to get to thw throne room, for the sake of saving his dignity, and for the chance of flaying the blasted elf who dared to cross him.

Blasted mercenaries... Damn it all! He cursed to himself, picking his pace up to a sprint.

Devorad packed his things into the saddlebags on his own, midnight black steed before rousing the troops, getting them into their positions and assigning shifts for those who would be on guard, and those who would rest in the meantime.

All around them, silhouettes began materializing out of nothingness, each brandishing a black, smoky blade. Without the slightest notion of hesitation, the figures rushed into the fray of elves, charging at them with blades raised, all but silent. Not a footstep was heard, not the drawing of a blade, nothing. These figures were completely and utterly soundless, soulless.

While any blade that pierced the flesh of an elven attacker would inflict a very much real and mortal wound, should an elf bypass the defenses of the shadowy figures they would find that their blades would cut through nothing but air. These warriors were unrelenting and—seemingly—undying.

Devorad spent most of the day directing the troops and assigning shifts for the weary soldiers to rest, while the rested would take their place. There would be nearly no time for him and Estrei to have fun, if there was any time at all. The stress of the situation would impair any fun they would have as well... Devorad hoped this wouldn't last long... As the days droned onward, the exhaustion and fatigue began to weigh on them all, forcing them to stop for the night.

"Okay, anyone able to stand needs to take to defending the barriers. Anyone who can't, just crawl to your bedrolls and get some rest. We all need it."

Ra'iz skidded to a stop just outside the throne room door upon hearing the clashing, slashing of steel from inside. On instinct, he drew his blade and smashed through the great oaken doors, rushing into the fray to gut whatever enemies dared to endanger his king.

The bulky, carbon-scored chassis of a freighter streaked across the sky at a dangerous speed, whipping around to a stop before slowly lowering itself to the dank, musty old landing pad. The pad creaked and groaned as the landing struts beared down upon it, like a stubborn child who just didn't want to get out of bed. Within moments, the loading ramp dropped down onto the landing pad with a small thud, and a single man came striding down into the thick, boggy air of an industrial section of the Smuggler's Moon, Bar Shaddaa. The man hardly looked out of place. Light armor on his chest, arms, and legs, and a wide-brimmed hat atop his head. He looked just like any other bounty hunter, only his burning blue eyes and stern, stubble-covered face showed a different sort of determination. He wasn't looking for someone,rather, but something.With a tip of his hat, the man tossed a few credit chips to the dock attendant and brushed the brown-black hair out of his face. The hunt has begun.

Such a hive of scum and villainy was no place for temples or ancient ruins, save for possibly the lowest levels of the planetwide city. However, there were a number of wealthy high-rollers in the upper levels who manage to get their hands on ancient artifacts and relics, or other objects that they had no business in dealing with. Especially those of Jedi and Sith origin. Brade didn't know much about either of the two, just enough to understand that such artifacts were better off in hands other than gangsters and kingpins. And right now, he was after one of the biggest hauls he had caught wind of yet. A small collection of Jedi and Sith Holocrons was spotted by an informant for the Bounty Hunter's Guild on the planet, but no more knowledge could be acquired. Brade didn't often work with the BHG, but this was a special case. A haul like this could set up for life. And where was better to start looking than the local cantina?

The shadows staggered slightly, but cold would have little to no real effect on something like a shadow. With nothing more than a low groan, the shadow warriors lumbered onward seemingly without a problem whatsoever.

Upon seeing these monsters, how they fought and how nothing could seem to stop them, Ra'iz's mind became a blur of thoughts and worries as they began to close in on the elves, and on Nass. With little thought, Ra'iz grabbed a torch from a nearby sconce and charged at the shadows, swinging sword and flame at them in equal measure. His sword proved ineffective, however the torch made the shadows hiss and recoil at the sudden influx of light, lashing back at the Royal guard with anger and ferocity.

Brade walked the streets of the Corellian sector with one hand on his blaster, and the other one on his wallet. Just because these people were from his homeworld didn't make them any less untrustworthy. The Smuggler's Moon corrupted all, even the charm and style of a Corellian. It twisted everyone into either a beggar, or a brute. Those who didn't, didn't survive very long anyway. There, a cantina on the corner. That's where his search would begin, and hopefully where Brade would get some leads. He wasn't an optimist, but there wasn't anything wrong with a little bit of hoping. That's when he glanced over and saw a particularly shady looking Weequay ducking into an alley. The Weequay weren't a race well known for their kindness and hospitality, and seeing one slinking into an alley wasn't a comforting sight. Almost without thinking, Brade's heavy blaster pistol slipped out of its holster and into his awaiting palm as he crept towards the alleyway.

The sound of a body hitting the floor instantly piqued Brade's interest, and he flicked his blaster's safety off. Brade rounded the corner to see that the Weequay had pinned a frail looking Echani woman to the ground, planning void-knows-what. He scoffed and raised his blaster, leveling the sights to the vile creature's skull. Silently, he crept up closer and closer to the Weequay, not able to get a clear enough shot that wouldn't involve hitting the woman in the process. Rest assured, Brade wouldn't allow this Weequay to get his way with her, nor with anything ever again.

Brade swiftly wrapped his arm around the Weequay's neck and pulled him back off of the woman, proceeding to apply more and more pressure against his windpipe.

"This is how you get your rocks off, eh? How about I give you a little parting gift before I send you on your way?" Brade asked, aiming the heavy blaster between the Weequay's legs, not hesitating for even a moment as he pulled the trigger and sent a bolt of searing hot plasma through the being's genitals. The Weequay cursed and wailed in agony, desperately trying to tear himself away. Brade let the vile creature go and watched as he scurried away like a rodent, tripping and stumbling over his own two feet. Brade thought twice about putting another bolt in his back, but decided that his victim needed more attention than he did. The gruff mercenary swung his gaze back to the Echani, holstering his blaster and extending a hand towards her.
"Are you alright?" He asked, cocking an eyebrow in mild concern.

Brade recoiled, pressing his fingers to his ears as a reflex. Grunting and grumbling to himself, he reached out his hand once more.
"Do you want help or are you going to blast my eardrums again?" He asked bitterly. Brade understood that the woman was in distress, but this was cutting into time he needed to spend searching for those holocrons. As much as he needed this pay, he couldn't well let this lady off without some sort of medical attention, or possibly therapy.
"I know a doctor on the upper levels. If you come with me I can cover whatever expenses you require." He added reluctantly.

Brade raised his free arm to his face, and a holographic image of their section of the city was projected from his forearm holocomputer in an instant.
"Show me the quickest way to Zala's Medical." Brade ordered. In under a second, a route was projected for them, directing them to a airspeeder taxi about a kilometer to the south.

This had better not jeopardize my chance at those relics... He thought to himself, turning in the opposite direction of the cantina.
"Come on. The doc's this way. Don't dawdle, alright? I'm in a hurry here.."