JulienJaden

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Oh dear, she turned our enemy into a fire monster, didn't she? ^^"

The Absent King

Sunlight, smoke and the rest of the warband greeted her as Annara stepped outside, knowing the knight and Juna behind her. One of the Ytharien announced that Nalendiel was that and, even though Annara was disgusted with herself for it, the message filled her with grim satisfaction.
From her interactions with him, she had found Nalendiel to be short-tempered and cruel, a man who would pick fights over petty things and held more contempt for the humans in their group than just about any other elf present. He had killed most of the cattle in the last town and was responsible for more than half the deaths of villagers on their last three raids, yet Lothren did little more than take him aside and reprimand him for it.

After the last raid, she had had a 'disagreement' with him over witnessing one of his killings 'in self-defence' that quickly developed into a screaming contest and it took Alonso on her side and Aust and Dagolan - the dark-haired elf - on Nalendiel's to keep them from attacking each other. Alonso had told her that Nalendiel's transgression were ignored because most of his family had been killed by humans, though it wasn't clear whether they had been Viceni or Aretans, and he had displayed fierce loyalty towards his elven brothers and sisters, defending them with little regard for his own life and, over the course of the last years, saving many of theirs on more than one occasion.
The elves and most of the humans in the group respected him and therefore most turned a blind eye to his actions.

But not Annara. If anything, she had become even more hateful towards him after she had killed that girl, projecting her own guilt on the elf. And now that he was dead, she allowed herself to feel avenged, in a way, but the feeling lasted only a few seconds.
As soon as Lothren ordered that they return to camp, her thoughts shifted to Alonso, then quickly to the house with the young boy and her conscience left nothing but guilt, enough to make her feel sick to the stomach.

She swung herself up on her stallion's back, watching impassively as the knight struggled with getting upon Lothren's steed and made his name known. He was boastful even now, the marks of her fists fresh on his face, and yet what had transpired on the stairs seemed strange and surreal. The blood on her hair and face was dry and itching now, her head heavy and tired, and she dreaded their return to he waggons. But at the same time, she longed for it, longed for the opportunity to confess to Alonso what she had done because the more time she spent among the Ytharien, the more she felt like wasn't herself anymore. Perhaps that was why her hatred for Gawain wasn't burning as hot out here in the sun: He was a monster in her eyes but, if she was being honest with herself, she was beginning to turn into a monster herself aswell.

Thoughts like these occupied her mind as she gently nudged her boots into her horse's sides, the loyal creature following her wordless order and making its way back towards the camp.

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@Luminosity I agree, a quick reaction might be helpful.

That said, I tend to not have time to write on the weekend, so I had Nicholas watch Fiona's pretty behind while she plays "Roast the Marshmallow". :P

{Closed}

Nicholas

[HP: 500 - SP: 4/6]

Unknown Location

---

One slash and it seemed to be over, the humanoid's neck severed, its form melting before his eyes. For a few moments, Nicholas let confidence and excitement wash over him, same as the others, same as the priestess who had been just as successful with her enemy and smiled at him in a way that left him with no choice but to respond in kind.
Some of them, he realized, had never fought anything like this before, may have never even ventured outside Armistice before. They had brushed aside the thin veil of safety that was the city wall and, for the first time, saw the world for what it truly was, what it held in store for all of them... and how exhilerating it could be to defeat something of otherworldly power, how sweet the sensation of not only cheating death but laughing in its face when it sent beings their way that had all but destroyed human civilization and yet you cut them down with ease.

He noticed that his body was warming up but it probably wasn't just due to the priestess' attractiveness - His armor, his swords, his shield, together they amounted to about half his body's weight without them and moving quickly in them was exhausting, even for a seasoned fighter. Considering the blow of the creature, the violence he had to withstand, Nicholas wasn't surprised to find himself beginning to sweat and breath just a little heavier than before.
But it wasn't so bad that he couldn't hide it still and he winked at the priestess again, as if to say 'See, that wasn't so bad'.

In hindsight, he should have waited a little longer with that; not only was Marcus still facing one of the faceless with considerably more difficulty than the rest of them but Nicholas' own liquified foes had gathered themselves, literally, not far from them, growing and taking a new shape, more imposing and terrifying than the last.
"Oh, for fuck's sake", he murmured under his breath as he returned to his combat stance.

The mercenary had seen and fought something vaguely similar to this before, a creature made entirely of slime and magic, though there had been one critical difference: The beast he had faced then was only about the size of a dog. That said, it had been a brutal fight still, the creature changing shape and taking blows from the sword like it was nothing, moving with devillish speed and, once it caught hold of one of his companion's legs, melting it right off, absorbing it, eating him alive.

Nicholas hoped against hope that this being didn't share the last trait with its relative, although he did remember the weakness its cousin had had, their salvation... and the priestess' seemed to have the exact same idea a few seconds before him, warning them to stand back as she started her assault. He admired her spirit and, even though he was confident in his magic, assumed that he would be no match for somebody who had done nothing but prepare their body and mind to act as a conduit for raw arcane power. What he did know, however, was how weak this energy could leave its user.
Maybe her attack would succeed and destroy it but if it did any less than that, she would be leaving herself wide open for a counterattack that, even if the being didn't possess the combined strength of the faceless enemies, could be deadly.

That was why Nicholas ignored the red-head's warning and stormed right after her, his sword in hand still but his entire focus on his left arm, ready to raise his shield in her defense or to tackle her and pull her out of harm's way - though he hoped that neither would be necessary.

The Absent King

@Thortimer Welcome. :)

{Closed}

@IcePezz It's a really, really long day. :P

Star Wars - Jedi Exile - Knights of the Last Republic

@Sep Hope that's to your satisfaction then.

Star Wars - Jedi Exile - Knights of the Last Republic

On the outside, Lyla was completely indifferent to the deaths above them, her eyes blinking impassively up at the platform as more Jedi she had barely known were slaughtered.
But inside her, everything was different. The moment they died, she felt a sharp tug in her chest, her usually weak Force senses hit with the strength of a fist to the stomach; her ears were filled with a strange noise, like cracking glass, and she knew that this was only for her to hear, her mind's way of telling her that it couldn't take anymore, that the pressure was too high and she needed to vent some of it right now.

But she held herself together, the strain of doing so driving her brain to a form of physical punishment: For the first time in years, she felt her missing fingers again, but instead of being joyfully reunited with her, they sent angry waves of pain through her arm and up her spine, causing Lyla to craddle her arm and biting her lower lip hard enough to draw blood to keep herself from letting any of it out. It didn't go away either - after a few seconds, the intense agony was replaced with a throbbing pain in the limbs that weren't there anymore. She tried to convince herself that it wasn't real, that what wasn't there couldn't hurt, but the girl understood why it was happening, that she needed to play her part before she broke down completely, and break down she would.

Had the Master's idea of a cover allowed it, she would have taken his hand in her need for comfort and even the faintest sense of safety. Instead, her right grasped the Padawan's left painfully tight, her plasteel prosthetics hard against his flesh. Her head was swimming with emotions she was trying hard to suppress and she didn't dare take a glance at him or speak to him; she was like a bactatank filled to the absolute maximum and even the tiniest drop would make her spill over. Her gesture conveyed everything she needed, a single thought so strong, so desperately clear in her mind that it was 'transmitted' through the Force, not only to the young man whom's hand she was holding but beyond that - Don't leave me alone. I can't do this alone.

And then, she started walking, at first pulling the Padawan along but, once he had regained his composure, overcame his hesitation or whatever it was that was holding him back, soon merely leading him and their 'slave'.

At first, her movements were erratic, her eyes looking for anything she would recognize so she could pinpoint their location, the phantom pain rising and falling in intensity and making her half-artificial hand tighten its grip accordingly, but after a few minutes, enough to make her companions have their first doubts about her leadership, she seemed to find what she was looking for and her steps henceforth had a clear direction.

Lyla led the two surviving Jedi down several elevators and a few service shafts, through maintenance tunnels and underground alleys, her feet only stopping to wait for them, her hand only leaving Rylos' when they had to climb. Surprisingly little had changed below the surface in the past decade and she recognized places, faces, even individual piles of junk. As terrifying as the notion of returning here had been, it was strangely comforting in a twisted way, like an abusive parent.

After only half an hour, they had acquired three sets of less conspicuous clothing (without the consent or knowledge of the owners), a little bit of food and water and, turning around a corner and squeezing through the minimal gap between two broken condensators, a hiding spot that was cold, dark and damp but out of the way and, by the looks of it, abandoned - the ideal place to take a short breather and change their attire.
They were only a few levels below the Anchorpoint and, on foot, perhaps another half an hour to an hour away.

Not waiting to see what her companions would do, Lyla took a few listless bites out of the dried something she had stolen for them, drank a little bit to moisten her parched throat and retreated into a corner of the confined room to change into the black, clingy outfit that had seen better days - not that it made a difference in terms of actual privacy but given the circumstances, modesty was the least of their concerns.

Star Wars - Jedi Exile - Knights of the Last Republic

@Sep How far do you want me to take us? To a hole in the wall where our merry group (what's left of it anyway) can change clothes and perhaps meet the other three Jedi? Or should I bring us aboard a ship by the end of it?

Star Wars - Jedi Exile - Knights of the Last Republic

@Sep Huh, your post is a little shorter than expected.